#these types of ‘well meaning concerns’ are what made me suffer in silence and prevented me from getting a diagnosis for years 👍 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hercleverboy · 3 years

Text

persistence

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ when spencer finds out that the reader has a stalker, he is determined to not let history repeat itself.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ stalker-like activity, death threats, few swear words, descriptions of blood, puking, spencer being kinda emotionally manipulative

word count ↠ 8.2k

“Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow.”-- Vincent Van Gogh

Y/N stared down at the letter in her hands. Her fingers trembled, tears blurring her vision as she reread the words over and over. Written in an ominous red ink, a chicken-scratch-like writing filled the page.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

It had all started two months ago.

First, it was the dark blue Sedan that she began noticing sat across the street from her apartment complex. Of course it easily could’ve belonged to one of the many people who lived in the complex, or perhaps even a friend of theirs. At first, it went unnoticed by her. It was only when she started taking note of the hours it was parked there that she began to get slightly concerned.

8am to 8pm. Every single day.

Like clockwork.

She’d peak through her living room curtains at 8am, and watch the car pull into its usual spot. It wouldn’t move all day but as soon as it struck 8pm, it left again- only to return the next day.

However, ever the sceptic, she didn’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. Her mind came up with countless possibilities. The owner was staying with a friend who lived close by (but then why would the car not be there overnight?), or perhaps it was an plain-clothed officer doing some form of undercover work? Honestly, there was nothing she hadn’t considered. So while the presence of the unexplainable car was a little unnerving, it wasn’t enough to make her paranoid.

The paranoia began when sheets of paper began being posted through her letterbox. They always came between the times that the blue car was parked outside, and had only a few words on each one that was delivered.

‘I’ve been watching you, you know.’

‘You’re so beautiful.’

‘That boyfriend of yours, does he hold you like I did?’

‘Does he touch you like I did?’

Whilst they weren’t exactly threats, they were enough to set her skin alight. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, jumpy and paranoid.

Spencer noticed it, too.

He’d seen the subtle change in his girlfriend’s body language, but didn’t want to push her on the matter. He had asked once, but she’d reassured him that she was fine. So he decided that he’d let her confide in him when she was ready, but that didn’t mean that this change in behaviour didn’t make his heart ache.

He was a profiler, one of the best, he knew the behavioural tells that signalled fear.

So what was she so afraid of?

Then the phone calls started.

Y/N heard the buzz of her phone, assuming it was Spencer calling. He was out of state on a case, but he always called to check up on her, or to notify her he was almost home. Although they didn’t live together yet, Spencer spent most of his spare time at her apartment. (He’d joked once that it was because her place was bigger than his, but really it was because his work took him away from her so often that he wanted to spend any spare minute he could with her.)

Reaching for the device, she frowned as she saw ‘Unknown Number’ flash across the screen.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

and then she heard it.

Heavy, husky breathing on the other end of the line.

The caller didn’t speak.

Unease filled her as she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. She placed her phone down beside her, biting down on her bottom lip as she attempted to rationalise what’d just happened.

Probably a butt dial, or maybe even a wrong number?

She pushed it to the back of her mind, distracting herself so that she wouldn’t have to confirm what she already knew was true.

The second call came two days later.

Spencer had returned earlier that day from an exhausting but overall successful case. He hadn’t even stopped by his place after landing, instead opting to go straight to Y/N’s apartment, unable to contain his excitement of seeing her for the first time in a week.

He let himself in with the key she’d given him for their one year anniversary, as he quietly made his way into the home. He called out her name, announcing his presence so she’d know he was home.

When she didn’t come to greet him in the hallway, or even call back to let him know she’d heard him he frowned. He slipped off his shoes before moving down the hallway, his eyes finally landing on her figure in the living room. She was stood by the large window that overlooked the street below them, her phone pressed to her ear. Spencer took in her body language, noting how her shoulders were tensed, and how the hand not holding her phone was gripping tightly onto the curtains as she peaked between them.

The unknown caller hung up, and Y/N looked down at her phone in her hand, eyes welling with tears- still unaware of Spencer’s presence behind her.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, trying not to startle her but still managing to.

She shrieked, turning around to face him, relief filling her features as she saw the familiar sight of her boyfriend. She forced a smile on her lips and pushed her worries away, wiping the tears from her cheeks quickly and hoping he hadn’t already seen them. “Spence! God, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were home.” She chuckled.

His frown only deepened as he moved toward her. “Is everything okay? Who was that on the phone?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she quickly came up with an excuse. “Oh, It was no-one.” She waved it off, hoping she’d played it off well enough to ease his worry.

Once he reached her he put his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight hug, his arms around her waist. She sighed, hugging him back with her arms around his neck.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, placing a kiss there that was so soft and delicate that it almost moved her to tears. “You know you can tell me anything, right? If something’s bothering you or worrying you then you don’t have to keep it to yourself. I’m here.” He whispered.

“I know.” She whispered back, squeezing him gently to comfort herself. “Thank you.”

Truth is, she knew she could tell Spencer what was happening. She knew that he would immediately inform his team, and with their wonderful minds and Garcia’s infinite systems, they’d have their unsub within days. So what was stopping her?

or more specifically, who was stopping her?

The answer would be Maeve, the woman that Spencer once loved, who he lost so suddenly and so tragically. She’d heard what had happened, and had comforted Spencer when he cried as he told her of the only other woman he’d ever loved, apart from Y/N. He’d confided in her about Maeve around four months into their relationship, and Y/N was grateful that Spencer trusted her enough to tell her such a thing. Losing the person you loved like that? Y/N couldn’t fathom it. Her heart ached for Spencer, and the heartbreak he’d endured.

She didn’t want to worry him over what might be nothing. After what happened with Maeve, she didn’t want to make him suffer all that again, to make him think that it was all happening again. She never wanted to be the reason for his hurt, and she knew that telling him is exactly what it would do- make him anxious, worried. She knew her boyfriend like the back of her hand. He’d go into overdrive trying to protect her, to prevent what happened to Maeve from happening to her. But still, she refused to be the one that set those events into motion. She knew it was stupid, he boyfriend was in the FBI- who are exactly the type of people you’d go to if you had a stalker.

She had tried to tell him a few times but when she opened her mouth to say the words, nothing would come out.

The final straw was the letters.

The first one was pushed through her letterbox on a Friday afternoon. Spencer was at work, thankfully only on a paperwork day instead of being called for a case. There was no name or address on the front of the letter.

She felt sick. Immediately she knew it was from him. At least she presumed it was a ‘he’, from the possessive tone of voice in the notes.

She ripped it open, taking out the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, both sides filled with that chicken scratch writing. Her eyes skimmed over the words written before her, tears blurring her vision. It was a love letter. Her stalker even gave her a nickname, ‘Dove’.

‘My darling dove, you were made for me.’

‘My love for you knows no bounds.’

‘You’ve got such a beautiful laugh, I’ve heard it.’

‘And your skin, so perfect, so soft looking. I’d love to run my fingers along your-’

Y/N let the letter drop to the floor as she felt the bile rise in her throat, dashing to the bathroom and throwing up her stomach contents in the toilet.

She felt sickened. She couldn’t bring herself to read what was left of the letter, instead screwing it up and throwing it away. The words she had read haunted her, made her feel disgusting. She spent hours in the shower that night, as though she was scrubbing his filthy words off of her skin.

The letters continued, and with each one, the comments became more and more repulsive. Instead of declaring his undying love for her, her stalker began to get enraged. With each letter he became increasingly angrier, and it shook Y/N to her core.

‘You whore, I could hear your moaning for that little boyfriend of yours from across the street’

‘When I get my hands on you, you’ll be begging for me to show you mercy’

‘I’ve protected you, watched over you! I’ve taken care of you for months now and this is how you repay me?’

‘Fucking dirty slut. I’ll kill you for that.’

‘What a shame it would be for that pretty flesh to be torn so carelessly, but it seems I’ll have to teach you a lesson, dove.’

‘You’ve made a mistake, choosing him over me.’

All of those led to one final letter.

Written in red ink, eight simple words with a sinister underlying message.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

Dropping the paper as though it had burned her, she desperately tried to slow the breaths that were increasing rapidly, willing the air to fill her lungs.

The realisation hit her like a freight train.

She was in danger, real danger. Now that her life had been threatened, she knew she couldn’t hide it any longer.

No matter the consequences, she had to come clean to Spencer.

She scrambled around her apartment, grabbing any evidence she had in the form of letters/threats and made sure she had her phone so she could show them the phone calls from an unknown number.

She glanced out the window to the street below. It was only midday, and she could see the familiar blue Sedan parked opposite her complex. She just had to get to her car safely, which should be a relatively easy task, given the numerous people who were walking down the bustling street- the perks of living on a main road.

She made it to her car thankfully unscathed, locking the doors behind her. She didn’t dare look across the road at the car, afraid of what, or who she would see. As she drove to the BAU, she anxiously tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She anticipated what Spencer’s reaction was going to be- he’d be angry, definitely. Y/N was torn, she wanted to stand by the decision she’d made two months prior to not involve her boyfriend with what was going on, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a poor choice. If she’d have told Spencer earlier, things would’ve been resolved. But by telling him the truth, she couldn’t help but ponder if she was putting him or his team in danger.

Shaking her head clear the thoughts, she pulled into the car park that was next to the building. Taking a few deep breaths, she grabbed her bag and headed toward the buildings’ entrance. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was dry. What the hell was she going to say? ‘Hey Spence, I have a stalker who’s threatening to kill me that I neglected to tell you about, how’s your day going?’

After being granted access at the front desk, she was given a visitors badge and headed up to the sixth floor of the building. As she stood alone in the elevator, she tried to take a few breaths, feeling the familiar clawing at the back of her throat that indicated she was close to breaking down. She’d been holding it together for so long, been so fucking scared for so long.

As soon as the doors opened she was greeted with the smiling face of one Penelope Garcia.

When Spencer and her had begun dating he brought Y/N along to one of Rossi’s pasta nights and the whole team immediately took a liking to her, especially after seeing how happy she made Spencer. However Penelope in particular absolutely adored Y/N, and the two had even hung out together a few times.

Garcia gasped with a grin as the doors opened. “My sweet Y/N! I got the notification that you’d checked in downstairs and thought I’d come greet you!” She moved toward her, hugging Y/N tightly. “Are you here to see our boy wonder? He’s around here somewhere-” She pulled back when she noticed the tenseness in Y/N’s shoulders. When Garcia met her teary eyes she gasped at the sight. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N finally let the tears tremble down her cheeks, reaching into her bag to grab the handfuls of threating letters from the person who’d made her life hell for two long months. She handed them to Garcia, who after years of working that job knew from the first few words what they were dealing with.

Y/N met her worried eyes. “It’s bad, Penny. Really bad.”

Garcia nodded, shocked but still placing a comforting arm on Y/N’s back. “Reid- He never mentioned-”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to worry over nothing but- this is the first time he’s threatened my life and I’m scared, Pen. I’m really scared.”

Garcia burst into action, coaxing Y/N with gentle words to head into the bullpen. As soon as they walked through the glass doors, all of the team member’s heads turned toward them. Spencer’s eyes immediately fell on his girlfriend’s tear stained cheeks and within seconds he was by her side.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

She shook her head, moving forward and wrapping her arms around him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried into his chest, her shoulders shaking as she let out everything she’d buried so deep inside.

He looked over at Garcia, bewildered. She simply walked up to Hotch’s office. The team could faintly hear Garcia presenting him with the papers Y/N had brought with her, explaining what she had told her when she arrived.

Minutes later Hotch came out of his office, walking down into the bullpen to where the team all looked at one another, confusion on their features.

“Y/N?” He asked as he approached her, and she pulled back from spencer to see him, wiping her tear stained cheeks. “You’re gonna need to tell us everything. You may be in immediate danger.”

Y/N nodded and Hotch headed off toward the round table room, Garcia scurrying in behind him. The rest of the team, with concerned glances to one another, followed into the room. This left Y/N and Spencer alone in the bullpen.

She felt Spencer gripping her hand, squeezing gently. Worry laced in his tone, he moved to stand before her and locked onto her eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

Y/N nodded and cleared her throat, her voice quiet with shame as she spoke. “I have a stalker. He sends letters, calls just to breathe down the line and scare me. In his recent letter, he said he’s gonna kill me.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his hand dropping from hers and he turning and stalked toward the board room. He had to see the evidence for himself.

He reached the room and the groups gazes all shifted to him, but he could’ve cared less. He reached out for one of the sheets of paper, eyes quickly scanning over the threatening words as Y/N entered the room behind him.

“When did this start, Y/N?” JJ asked, that caring, motherly tone present in her voice.

“About two months ago.”

“Did you notice anything odd about the neighbourhood beforehand? Cars that weren’t normally there, people stood on street corners at odd times of day?” Derek queried, his eyes scanning over some of the notes she’d received.

She nodded. “There was a car I noticed, right at the start. I didn’t think much of it until I started taking note of the timings. It would sit there all day, but be gone overnight. Then it would return the next day.”

“Do remember the colour, or make of car?”

“Yeah, a dark blue Sedan. Then a few days later the phone calls started.”

“Garcia I need you to run through Y/N’s phone records, see if you can trace the number they were calling from.” Hotch ordered and Garcia quickly left the room, heading to her bat cave.

“Here, listen to this.” JJ started, holding up one of the first letters. “I’m doing this because I love you, pretty dove. So very much. It’s okay, you’ll see.” She looked up to her team. “He’s planning something.”

Hotch turned his attention to her. “Y/N’s safety is our primary concern. This unsub seems to have fixated on her, for whatever reason. Y/N, do you have any ex boyfriends or enemies we need to know about?”

“I have five ex’s, but I don’t think any of them would be capable of this.” She reasoned, but there was a seed of doubt in the back of her mind.

At her words, Spencer stood up, slamming the letters down on the table with an audible thud before leaving the room. Y/N stared after him hopelessly, Hotch clearing his throat before speaking again.

“I’ll need a list of their names.”

Derek piped up. “We also need to know locations of spots that you frequent, anywhere you may have met this guy. Coffee shops, restaurants, even the library. No detail is too small, okay?”

Y/N nodded, turning back to stare out the door that Spencer had stormed out of moments before. “I’m just going to go check on him.” She murmured, earning an apologetic smile from JJ.

She found him outside the building, sat on one of the stone steps of the staircase that led up to the buildings entrance. He had his head in his hands, trying to calm down the thoughts that sped through his overworking mind.

She sat beside him, draping his coat that she’d grabbed from his desk over his shoulders to combat the cold winter air. “You’ll catch a cold.” She muttered, offering a small smile as he looked over at her. Despite how he felt, he let the smallest of smiles find its way onto his lips at the comment. She had a stalker threatening her life and she was worried about him catching a cold?

They sat in silence for a little before Y/N broke it. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.” He mumbled, looking out to the street, watching people walk by. When Y/N didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You could’ve told me, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t.” She whispered sincerely.

“Why didn’t you say something, Y/N? I would’ve dropped everything to make sure you were safe.” He promised, trying to make his voice sound strong, but failing as it cracked with his words.

“I didn’t think it was important. He wasn’t threatening at the start, and I thought I could handle it.” Now the words were leaving her mouth, she knew she sounded stupid.

“You didn’t think it was important?” Spencer repeated back to her, his breaths heavy as he failed to understand her reasoning. “Y/N you are the most important thing in the world to me. Okay? Please tell me you know that.” He turned his body toward her.

“I know. I know and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. It’s just I know- after everything that happened before with Maeve-“ She paused for a moment. “I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”

His breath hitched when she said Maeve’s name, and Y/N could almost see him replaying the moment he lost her in his mind. The curse of an eidetic memory.

“I’m not going to let that happen to you- no, not you. Never you.” He sniffed, reaching over to take her hand in his.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes once more. She cuddled into his side, her head dropping on his shoulder. She sniffled. “I’m scared, Spencer.”

“It’s okay. He’s not coming anywhere near you, Y/N. I swear to you, he’s not going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Over the next few days, the team spent hours analysing ever piece of evidence Y/N had received, and Garcia went through tons of security footage, trying to get a good look at whoever was in the blue Sedan. She’d ran the license plates, but they’d come back as being fake, so that had been a pretty dead end, and the phone number she’d traced had come from a payphone, so there was no lead there either.

Spencer was evidently over-working himself, not taking breaks from work to eat or sleep. He reread the words a hundred times, desperately looking for what it was he must’ve missed. He was filled with this overwhelming need to protect her, to keep Y/N safe. To succeed where he’d failed previously. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake he’d made with Maeve. He’d let his emotions cloud his judgement and it cost Maeve her life. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

There wasn’t time for that, not when Y/N was in danger.

Y/N spent most of her time alongside Spencer at the BAU, mostly because he insisted that she was somewhere he could keep an eye on her at all times. She only went home in the evenings so she could change and sleep in her own bed, but always with a police escort that Spencer had himself done a thorough background check on and knew could be trusted.

Eventually, It had been an entire week. Spencer had only had a handful of sleep, only when the exhaustion became too much did he pass out and actually get a few hours of sleep before he was right back at it. Members of the team who attempted to gently voice their concern for him received a scowl in response, with Y/N even trying to get through to him, but he just shrugged her off. Ultimately, Hotch had to pull him aside to talk.

Hotch walked into the room where Y/N sat reading silently in the corner while Spencer’s eyes ran over the words he’d already read a hundred times.

“Reid, Can I speak to you?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, pissed that he was being interrupted from the task before him. He grunted under his breath, standing up and walking out of the room.

Hotch brought Spencer up to his office, closing the door behind them so there was some dilution to the raised voices that were definitely going to come from this conversation. He sighed, turning to face the younger man and crossing his arms. “The Bureau don’t want us using any more of our time on this case. The unsub has been inactive for a week, and we have other cases building up that take priority.”

Spencer scoffed. “You want us to stop? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid not. The order came from above me, I have no power here. The best we can do for now is send Y/N home with police protection until this guy resurfaces.”

“You wanna send her home? No way, Hotch! There’s some son of a bitch after her and you want her to be at home?” He was angrier than Hotch had seen him be in a long while.

Hotch sighed. “Reid. It’s out of my hands. I recognise how hard this is for you, but we have no choice.”

“But I- I can’t protect her if she’s not with me! I can’t keep her safe.” His tone changed from angry to more of a begging. “Please, Hotch. There’s got to be something you can do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer huffed, his anger returning. “Bullshit! You know as well as I do that she’s vulnerable as soon as she leaves here. Police presence or not, if something happens to her-”

Hotch shot him a warning look, which made Spencer stop mid-sentence.

“You’re done with this case for now, understand? Until he resurfaces, we have other priorities.” Hotch spoke. Spencer scoffed, walking and brushing past his unit chief. “That’s an order, Reid.” He warned.

Spencer ignored him, heading back to the room he’d left Y/N in, his mind refocused on getting back to his previous task- despite Hotch’s orders.

He stepped into the room, slamming the door closed behind him, earning a surprised squeak from Y/N, who still sat in the corner with her book in hand. He looked over at her, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “He wants you to go home, and we have to put the case on hold because we have others to work on. Can you believe that? How could he ask that of me?” He laughed humourlessly as Y/N shut her book, placing it next to her.

She sighed, standing, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

It was just the protective side of him coming out, and at first Y/N thought it was endearing, but he couldn’t neglect his own needs to favour hers any more. She wouldn’t let him.

“Spencer, you gotta stop this. I know how hard you’re working, and I’m so grateful, but you’re killing yourself here.” Her voice was gentle, hoping she’d be able to appeal to him.

“No! No Y/N I’m not stopping until we get this guy, until you’re safe.” He snapped.

“You heard what Hotch said, you have other cases that need to take priority.” She moved toward him, still trying to reason with him. She was still scared to death, and she didn’t particularly want to leave Spencer’s side- after all he made her feel safe. But there were people who needed him and his team, and if she was no longer in imminent danger, his talents were needed elsewhere. It made her feel sick, but it’s the way it was. They were just going to have to wait for this guy to make his next move.

“But Y/N, you are my priority. Don’t you get that?” He asked, moving back as she came toward him. The motion hurt her, so she stood still.

“I do, I promise you I do, but there’s people out there who need that beautiful mind of yours more than I do right now.”

He scoffed. “So you just expect me to give up?”

“Of course not, but Hotch is right. What if this guy never makes any other moves? What if he just wanted to scare me? You can’t waste your time. It’s too valuable.”

“And what if the second you walk out of those doors he gets you?” Spencer shouted, his arms coming out by his sides to exaggerate his point.

“Then you’ll find me. If that happened, which is a worse-case scenario, I have faith that you and this team would find me and bring me home.”

“And if I can’t? If I fail, again? If I have to watch you die like I watched-” His breath hitched, his voice catching. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “No, No. I will not lose you, do you understand? I will not stop looking for this son of a bitch, not ever. I’m not letting you go home, Y/N. I’m sorry, that’s final.”

“Spencer, you can’t keep me here. You’d be disobeying Hotch’s direct orders-”

He shook his head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Y/N. I’ll talk to Hotch, change his mind. Just- stay here. Please.” The last word was quiet and pleading, a stark contrast from the tone he was using before. He picked up the evidence files he was going through and walked away, feet stomping as his anger still radiated off of him.

Y/N had stood there for a minute, collecting herself before she took a shaky deep breath, bringing her hand up to wipe the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

She walked out to the bullpen, ignoring how Spencer had asked her to stay. Her eyes met Derek’s who offered her an apologetic smile.

“Hey.” He called out to her as she passed by. “Whatever the kid said, he didn’t mean it. He just wants to keep you safe.”

She gave a sad smile. “I know. Um, is it alright if I just step out the front for some air? I’m feeling a little boxed in.”

“Sure thing. I’ll keep you company, make sure you get back alright.” He stood up from his desk chair, grabbing his jacket and accompanying her downstairs.

When they got there Y/N turned to him. “Is it alright if I have a moment alone? I’ll stay where you can see me, I just need a minute.”

Derek was hesitant, but nodded. She pushed open the doors, out into the cold night. She remained stood by the front doors, where they bright lights from indoors seeped outside, lighting up the pavement. She took a few deep breaths, letting the cold air fill her lungs, hoping it’ll help alleviate the stinging pain in her heart. She looked up at the sky, willing herself to keep her tears at bay. She appreciated what Spencer was doing, and adored his instinct to protect her, keep her safe. She knew how stubborn he could be at times, but now she thought about it, maybe when she sided with Hotch earlier it made it seem like she didn’t have his back, which was certainly not the case.

Derek watched as Y/N collected herself, seeing that she was about to turn and come back inside. Suddenly someone bumped into his side, his attention turning from Y/N to the person who collided with him. He looked over to see a young man he didn’t recognise.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. My apologies.” The man apologised before walking off.

Derek furrowed his brow, before turning back to look outside.

Y/N wasn’t there.

He bolted forward toward the doors, flinging them open and looking left and right for any sight of her.

She was long gone. And so was whoever took her.

Hearing a crinkle beneath his feet, Derek looked down at the sound, noticing a scrap piece of newspaper on the floor where Y/N had been stood.

He picked it up, unfolding the paper. On it, written in the familiar blood red chicken scratch was the same threatening message Y/N had received before.

‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’

Derek placed the paper down on the roundtable, that the team was now gathered around, shock and worry on their faces.

Hotch closed his eyes with a sigh as he looked at the paper, guilt rushing over him. Just then Spencer came into the room, immediately picking up on the mood that had settled over the team.

“What’s’‘-” His eyes landed on the message, the realisation spreading over his features. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a sort of denial in his voice.

“He has her.” Derek confirmed, bowing his head down in shame that he hadn’t protected her like he was supposed to.

“Morgan, What happened? You took her out to get some air and then what?” Emily asked, trying to establish where it’d gone wrong.

“I took my eyes off of her for a minute, some guy bumped into me and it distracted me, and when I looked back she was gone.”

Emily’s mouth opened as she connected the dots. “It must’ve been a distraction, one guy bumps into you so that you take your eyes off of her while the other guy grabs her.”

“So what, we’re looking for a partner here as well?” JJ posed, looking up at her team.

“It would seem so. He waited for his opportunity, and when it came he took it.” Rossi chimed in.

“This is now an active investigation, we have a missing woman who’s already been gone for nearly an hour. We’ve got to work fast.” Hotch ordered, which sent the team out of their seats, each with a task assigned to them. However, Spencer still sat in one of the chairs, trembling fingers trailing over the words before him. The air in the room seemed thinner, his lungs working harder to fill themselves.

“Reid? Reid.” Morgan tried, but all he got from Spencer was little incoherent mumbles.

Finally, he looked up to meet Morgan’s eyes, the words he’d been whispering falling from his lips in a more audible whimper. “He’s gonna kill her.” He choked on his words, the realisation crashing down on him. “I’m going to lose her too.”

Time was a precious thing.

Spencer had never been more aware of how quickly the seconds passed than he was at that moment.

He was on his knees, hunched over the toilet, hands gripping the sides in a vice-like grip, desperately trying to push down the nauseating feeling creeping its way up his throat. After the note that Morgan found, Spencer had rushed into the toilets, standing over the toilet bowl as he dry-heaved, holding himself back from being sick. He took heavy breaths, eyes screwing shut as he tried to think of anything other than the danger that Y/N was in.

He tried so hard to ignore the familiarity of the situation.

The thought set in motion a memory that he’d much rather forget, one that he pushed so far back in his mind so he could deny it had ever happened, that he’d ever allowed it to happen.

Ultimately, it was the curse of his brilliant memory, having the ability to perfectly recall things that happened years before.

As if he could ever forget that day, eidetic memory or not.

“Diane, Diane, there’s still a way out of this.”

“You never wanted me. Never! You lied!”

Diane has her arm around Maeve, gun pointed at her head. The bullet she’d shot into Spencer’s shoulder felt numb, the scorching pain felt irrelevant to the fear spiking his heart.

“I didn’t. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. Me for her. Let me take her place.” His eyes lock on Maeve’s, so full of fear, and he tries to reassure that she’ll be fine- because he knows she will. How many times has he talked down an unsub waving a gun around? She would be okay, she had to be.

“You would do that?”

“Yes.”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would. In a heartbeat.

“Thomas Merton.”

Maeve’s voice was small but sure. What scared Spencer the most was how certain she sounded, as though she’d accepted that this was her fate; her end.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?”

“He knows.”

She loved him. And he loved her. Oh how bittersweet.

“Who’s Thomas Merton, who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us.”

Its only a moment’s hesitation, a moment that he should’ve reached for a gun, a moment where he should’ve taken his shot.

“No.” Diane scowled.

Time is a precious thing.

and Maeve’s was up.

“Wait-”

The shot still rung clear in Spencer’s ears, a sound he was sure he would hear for the rest of his days. His breaths were heaving again, his eyes flying open as he willed the image of Maeve’s body to leave his head. But when his eyes screwed shut again, it was someone else in her place.

It wasn’t Maeve’s body on the floor anymore. Instead, in her place lay Y/N, blood gushing from the open wound at the side of her head, her lifeless body cold against the concrete floor.

That’s the thought that made him sick, throwing up into the toilet at the thought of watching Y/N die the same way he watched Maeve.

Taking gasping breaths, he sat back against the side of the cubicle, hands running down his flustered face, feeling the streaks of tears that trembled down his cheeks.

He shook his head, as if that would erase the horrific thoughts swimming around. He reminded himself that Y/N was still alive, and they had no reason as of yet to believe that she wasn’t. It was that thought that made him pull himself to stand, raking his hands through his hair and trying to calm his quivering hands.

Y/N was still out there, waiting for him to save her.

He grit his teeth together as he walked out of the toilets.

He wouldn’t hesitate this time. He was not going to lose her.

He walked back into the roundtable room, ignoring the looks he received from the team. They had been bouncing theories off of one another, trying to use their profile to figure out who their unsub was, and where they would’ve taken Y/N.

“Is it possible a woman is our unsub, or perhaps even the partner?” Emily posed, her eyes scanning over one of the letters.

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think a woman would use language like this, it’s very derogatory, it exerts a power over Y/N.”

The team fell quiet in thought, only interrupted when Garcia came scurrying in, her laptop in her hands. “You’ll never guess what I just found!”

Everyone looked up to her, Hotch speaking. “What is it, Garcia?”

“I looked over the list of Y/N’s exes, and only one of them jumped out to me as a little suspicious. So I did some digging.” She tapped a few keys on her laptop before grabbing her remote and broadcasting to the team what she’d found on the TV. “Daniel ‘Danny’ Stone, 29, dated Y/N three years ago. He was her last boyfriend before she met Reid.”

“Three years? You don’t think he’s still bitter about the relationship ending?” Emily asked, confused.

“Three years is a long time. Why surface now?” JJ chimed.

“Reid, did Y/N ever mention her previous relationship ending on a rough note?” Rossi asked, turning to face the younger boy.

Spencer frowned. “She said the breakup was a little rocky, but nothing awful. The last time she spoke about him was a few months ago, said he got in some sort of accident?” He looked to Garcia for confirmation, and she nodded.

“Indeed. Stone was involved in a road collision four months ago.”

JJ hummed, looking through the medical reports on her iPad. “Says here he suffered brain damage, specifically to his pre-frontal cortex.”

“Well that would explain why this stalker seemingly came from nowhere. People who suffer damage like this are impulsive, unable to make rational choices.” Derek posed.

“So what’s the theory here? He wakes up after this accident, and because of his injury chooses to track down his ex? Three years after they break up?”

Morgan shook his head. “It isn’t a choice. Not anymore. He has to do it. He’s become fixated on her. He knows she’s with Reid, and like he said, If he can’t have her, the neither can Reid.”

“Okay, but why stalk her? What does he gain from that? Instead of just taking her and getting what he really wants?” Emily questioned.

“This newfound impulsivity would make him a risk-taker. He’ll do things that the average person wouldn’t dream of trying. But it’s unlikely that Stone actually staked out Y/N’s home, or delivered the letters to her door. He wouldn’t have the self-control to span this out over months. He just pulled the strings.”

“So that was his partner, then.” JJ deduced, earing nods from the team. “Then what does the partner gain from this? Why help Stone?”

“Maybe Stone manipulated them. Perhaps he has some form of information on them he’s using as blackmail?”

“Did you get an address on Stone, Garcia?” Hotch asked, and Garcia nodded enthusiastically.

“You know I did, It’s already been sent to your phones.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

The team all stood, heading for the doors. Spencer was quick to get up and follow, hope sparking in him now that they had an address. He was just about to leave the room when Hotch’s voice stopped him.

“Reid, you know I can’t let you come with us.” His voice was firm, he knew there could be no room for error here. Not after what happened last time.

“Like hell you can’t.” Reid snapped, turning around to face him. He’d regret his smart mouth later when Hotch undoubtedly told him off for it, but at that moment who couldn’t have cared less.

“We will get her and bring her home, but you can’t be involved in this. It’s a conflict of interest, you know that.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t a conflict of interest when you went after Foyet?”

It was a cheap shot, one that Spencer really regretted the second he said it, but amends could be made later.

Hotch’s face didn’t falter, despite the petty jab. “Yeah, and look where that got me.”

Spencer’s defesnive stance dropped, his arms falling by his sides. “Hotch. You were there when when Maeve died. Do you remember it?”

“Of course.”

“Not like I do. I can see every second of it every time I close my eyes. I can’t go through that again. I almost didn’t make it out the other side, If it happened again I don’t know if I could cope-” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. “Just- Please.”

Hotch grunted, giving in. “Fine, but you can’t allow your emotions to cloud your thinking. I know it will be difficult but I need your head to be in this.Y/N’s life depends on it.”

Spencer nodded and they headed down toward the SUV’s.

They pulled up to the address, lights blaring and sirens sounding. They all quickly jumped out and regrouped, strapping their kevlar vests to their chests as they moved. They were stood in front of an abandoned apartment complex, one that had ben uninhabited for years.

“Alright Morgan, Prentiss I want you to go around the back, find a way in through there, see if you can find this partner of his. JJ, Rossi and Reid you’re with me. ” Hotch ordered, as they all drew their guns and prepared to head in.

As they stealthily walked through the building, they listened for any noise that indicated where the unsub was. Hotch, who was leading the group, pushed open a door to the staircase, and they were about to head up when they heard a bang coming from the floor below them.

They headed down the stairs, seeing that they were entering the buildings basement. They rounded the corner, guns at the ready, and stepping into a small boiler room.

In the centre of the room, Daniel stood. He held a struggling Y/N to his chest, his arm around her neck and gun placed at her temple.

Spencer recalled how it the sight was all too familiar, how Diane had held Maeve the same way.

Daniel’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “If you step any closer, she dies.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay back, but I need you to put down the gun.” Hotch tried, shooting a look over his shoulder to Spencer, a look that told him to stay put.

Daniel shook his head. “No. You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Ruin what?” JJ asked.

“My chance do what’s right. Y/N doesn’t want me. But I love her, can’t she see that? I would do anything for her, and still she would choose him over me?” Daniel’s eyes moved to meet with Spencer’s, narrowing.

“Daniel, we know what you went through. We know about your accident, how you’ve felt so out of control since, but if you come with us we can get you the help you need.” Rossi was next to attempt to convince him, but to no avail.

“No- No!” Daniel scowled, clenching his teeth as his gaze fixated on Spencer, who’s eyes were locked with Y/N’s, trying to silently reassure her that she was going to be okay. “She’s mine. I protected her, I’ve looked out for her. She’s finally going to understand.” He looked down at Y/N, his grip on her tightening, causing her to let out a frightened yelp.

Spencer gulped, tearing his gaze from Y/N and onto the unsub, putting on a strong and unbothered facade. He wouldn’t let himself be clouded by his emotions, not this time. “You’re right. You kept her safe, and I’m very grateful that you protected her when I failed to.”

“Thats right. You failed her. I’m so much better for her.” He seethed through his teeth. “ And that’s why, if she won’t chose me, she’ll have to die with me.”

“You don’t want to do that, Daniel. Put down the gun. We’ll bring you in, and if you tell us all about this partner of yours, we’ll tell everyone that you co-operated.” JJ suggested, her gun still aimed up at him.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N gasped out, still struggling against his hold.

“Because if I can’t have you, the neither can he. No, No.” He grinned, bringing the gun up to his his own head. From where it was angled, the bullet would pass through his own head, and lodge itself in Y/N’s too. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

This time, Spencer didn’t hesitate.

One single gunshot.

Daniel collapsed to the floor, a bullet between his eyes.

Y/N fell to the ground with him in a fit of sobs, scrambling to get away from the man who lay dead on the floor, the pool of blood growing around him.

Spencer holstered his gun, immediately surging forward to wrap a trembling Y/N up in his arms.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He cooed, rubbing a hand on her back in a soothing manner.

She sobbed into his chest as he held her, tears forming in his own eyes at the sound of her cries. But Spencer allowed himself a moment to breathe, looking over Y/N’s shoulder at the man he’d just shot without hesitation.

And he’d wouldn’t be losing any sleep over it, either.

He tightened his arms around her, thankful that she was safe. He brought her up to stand, his arms still tight around her. He looked toward his teammates, nodding gratefully at them as he walked Y/N out of the building. As he passed, he overheard JJ and Hotch’s conversation.

“Emily and Morgan found the partner fleeing out the back. They say he’s agreed to talk.”

With an internal sigh of relief, he held Y/N closer as they stepped out the doors of the building, guiding her toward the medical staff so she could be checked for injuries, despite how she told him she was fine. After it was concluded that she’d come out pretty unscathed, with only a few cuts and bruises, Spencer came and sat down next to her. She smiled weakly up at him, and he knew it would take a while for her usual bright smile to return, but she was alive- and right then that was all that mattered.

He immediately took her hand in his, gripping it tightly.

“Is it over?” She asked quietly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, they got the partner, and he’s going to co-operate in return for a reduced sentence, but he’ll still be going away for a long time.”

She nodded, her head dropping onto his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Spencer. You saved me.” She whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m sorry about the argument we had, I was being a jerk. I just wanted to protect you, but in the end you still ended up getting hurt.” He frowned, looking down at the gravel ground.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry you had to relive all of this again, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you.” She sighed, guilt overwhelming her.

“Hey, no. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He promised and she nodded against him.

Giving her hand a squeeze, he turned slightly to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds

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kurisus · 3 years

Text

Chapter 96 thoughts

This chapter made me want to not be alive so uh let’s talk about it, group therapy style. Spoilers under the cut, obviously.

This was easily the worst chapter in a long time, but it was a different type of pain than the last bad chapter I flipped out over (Hagusa’s first appearance in 88-2). This was more like a slow, burning feeling of dread. I’m not quite sure how to describe it but this chapter definitely made me feel no less than 7 new emotions.

Things started off poorly with Yuka seeing Hiyori as being similar to her mom. Which, as we learned a few chapters ago, means the type of person to keep pushing away her pain and inconvenience with a smile. At least I’m glad Yuka decided to make her breakfast anyway.

The comparison isn’t entirely one-for-one though. Yuka and Haru’s mother was also the type of person to completely close herself off from her surroundings, not really doing anything to prevent her kids from being hurt. We know our Hiyori would never let that slide--I’m fondly remembering the multiple times she’s gone after trash dad despite how he keeps finding new ways to hurt her.

On that note, I still don’t think Yukine’s father is alive, but if he was I would love for Hiyori to kick his ass too.

Anyway, the anecdote about Haru forgetting their dad’s birthday was already rough for me. I’d forget too, if I had someone like that holding it against me every time. And of course it shouldn’t surprise me he was cruel enough to force his children to sleep outside at night, but somehow it’s just another horrible, horrible thing we were forced to learn.

Adachitoka’s really pulling no punches with Yukine’s backstory, man. Every time I think we’ve heard the worst of it, they come back with something new and equally horrible.

I’m really not sure what to make of Yuka’s “This isn’t something to talk about just after waking up” statement. What was she implying was happening to Haru? My first thought was that she realized he’s in danger somehow, and is afraid he’s going to die, but if that were true she’d be urging the girls out the door to go look for him. Feel free to tell me if it was obvious, but I was confused.

I still have no idea how Nora and Hiyori are gonna explain what happened to Haru, but I feel like Yuka will just catch a glimpse of him and realize, somehow.

I also feel like when they meet, Yukine will turn his anger on his sister at first, but hopefully Hiyori will be there to mediate things. I can’t wait for her to get some action, provided things don’t go belly-up again (they will).

Okay so I was completely NOT expecting to get the letter revealed this month so I felt blindsided.

I remember speculating the letter would be something normal, like what Yato saw in those fragments when naming Yukine. But boy, was I wrong.

He never got any of her letters, and didn’t Yuka also say she never got any of his?

Anyway, my first thought when I saw that final letter was that their dad forced him to write it, but looking at it again now I’m not so sure. I think the paneling is meant to imply their dad read out all his letters, and that was the one he was holding when the POV switched to a flashback. I also misread “I can’t take it anymore” as a sort of suicide note, but I think it was just frustration.

Either way, there’s a conspiracy going on that their dad was behind. Somehow, he got hold of all Haru’s letters, and likewise prevented Yuka’s from ever reaching him. So the two siblings wrote to each other and never got a response, each believing they had been abandoned.

It’s also horrifying that Yuka wrote about mundane things out of concern for her brother’s life and safety, yet Haru was openly writing about how much he wanted to run away. Perfect fuel for their dad’s story once he went missing, huh?

This also shows he wasn’t, like, handing the letters to his dad to mail off. He was sending them by himself, in secret, yet they all got returned one day. So like, was their mom hoarding his letters to prevent Yuka from getting them? What exactly happened here? I’m wondering if their mom was so committed to putting everything behind them that she kept all of Haru’s arriving letters and hid them away, hoping the siblings would forget about each other. But then, did she send them back? Why would she do such a thing?

I mentioned this a while ago, but nothing about this whole letter business adds up, and now there’s a whole new layer to it.

Anyway, on to what was, for me, the crux of this chapter--the page with just the “thud” and “smack” sfx, followed by an unnerving silence. This was, as is shown later, the final abuse that Haru suffered. His father got hold of the letters, ripped them up in front of his son, then beat him up and dragged him to the mountains where he dumped him in the fridge, already concocting his story about how Haru ran away. Now we know why Haru was barefoot and in his pajamas when it showed the fridge door shutting. Good lord.

This page had a deep impact on me, because though Adachitoka is not one to shy away from direct depictions of abuse (think Father smacking Yuuki against a pole or setting wolves on a crying Yato), everything about this was deeply unpleasant in a new way. I think it’s because we already knew that everyone ignored what was happening at the Tajima house, as well as the consequences of that specific instance of abuse.

I think it was @eerna who said this page goes straight to the compilation of pages that make me feel like I’ll never be happy again? bc yeah.

I gotta stop talking about this before I cry so I’m instead pivoting to taking another break from being mad at Kazuma because he was actually doing good stuff this chapter. Seems like he’s finally come around and agrees they need to get Yukine back, and is offering his help to Yato.

Poor Yato, though, remembering how their last exchange before Father named Yukine was Yukine renouncing that name in a fit of anger. I don’t think calling Sekki would work at the moment, but certainly when Yuka, Hiyori, and Nora help Yukine see reason, I can picture Yato summoning him back and away from Amaterasu.

So, they better all get their butts moving, because Father’s about to do a test run of Hagusa’s fury against those gods unfortunate enough to be in his way. Pleaaaaase let them be in time. I don’t have it in me to go through a box incident again.

If memory serves, Arahabaki is also in the area, meaning Shiigun may face off against Yuuki. But their time is running out, so Yukine’s fractured mental state will likely interfere with that plan.

One last thing before I close out this very long post. Father drew a clear parallel between himself and Yukine with their shared feelings of despair, yet the visual puts him in the same place as Yukine’s father, and Freckles as Yukine. Makes me wonder if she received similar treatment from Father as Yato and Nora did. Was their relationship not quite so “star-crossed lovers” as Father would have us believe? Was he perhaps partially to blame for her death?

In any case, seeing Yukine’s father carrying him to what will be his grave made me feel violent. I really hope that bastard is long dead, because I don’t want Yukine to become a murderer even though it would be completely justified after seeing incident after incident of the environment he grew up in.

Always questions, questions, and more questions. Feel free to send your own thoughts! See yall in October~

#Noragami #Noragami spoilers #Noragami manga #live update

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

you're not living in this world alone

i wrote this in one sitting and i'm sorry i don't really know what the point is i was just frustrated lmao, the song title is from "enjoy your life" by marina which is what i'm manifesting for COT. i don't think there are any triggers beyond what you would expect: mentions of bullying and elias' shitty parenting

Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

“And how would you know where Alastair was yesterday afternoon?” Matthew mused.

Thomas exhaled. The truth was a long time coming. “Because I was with him. Alastair and I are friends.”

“Friends? After everything he’s done? You can forgive him so easily?”

“It’s been years since school, Matthew. He’s grown and changed since then, just as you and I have. I have forgiven him, and I ask that you respect that, even if you choose not to.”

“Respect that? Thomas, how could I-” He moved closer and lowered his voice as if that would effectively prevent Cordelia from hearing him, despite her sitting mere feet away. “I don’t know what he said to you, but you don’t owe him anything just because he helped you with the whole serial killer business. Listen, Thomas, you’re very kind, and Alastair… Well, I know what type of person Alastair is, and he’s the kind that understands well how to take advantage of kindness. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Thomas could see Cordelia straining to stop herself from reacting. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“And you do?”

“I know more than you, continuing to reduce him to the horrible nonsense he said over four years ago.”

Matthew flinched. “Horrible nonsense? That’s what you’d call the things he said about my parents, about your parents, the things that made your mother cry?”

Thomas bit back involuntary tears. He knew how those words had hurt his family. His intention was never to reduce the gravity of them. “Don’t you dare use my own words against me! What about the things you said, Matthew?”

Matthew crossed his arms. “I have not a clue what you’re talking about. Whatever he told you were lies, I’m sure-”

“Did you forget that I was there that day? I’d nearly forgotten because it was so long ago, but I remember. I was trying to help Alastair because he was in a very bad way. Clive had just died. I know that the prank affected you, too, maybe even more so, but Alastair said that the prank wasn’t his idea, and I believe him. Clive was Alastair’s bully long before he was any of ours, and I don’t blame Alastair for fearing his own safety and going along with his stupid, dangerous plan. At the end of the day, it’s just not something you need to blame someone for. Alastair learned his lesson in the worst way possible. Someone died.

“I could tell that the other boys’ parents coming to the school in the aftermath of it all was upsetting him because he knew that Elias would never come to his rescue. You can jest all you’d like, Matthew, about how if he was your son, you wouldn’t care about him either, but it’s never going to be funny.”

A stillness fell on the room, a look of guilt creeping over James’ face, a look of panic having set in on Matthew’s shortly after Thomas began speaking. Cordelia stood up abruptly. “Excuse me?” She turned to Matthew. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Never to his face! It was just a joke. I didn’t mean it-”

“Is that supposed to make it better? All those times that you acted as if were some heroic feat for me to love him… Now I’m not sure if they were jokes or if you genuinely believe he’s less deserving of love than you or I. All this time my brother suffered in silence, he shielded me from it all so that I would never have to know what kind of person my father really was, he sacrificed his own well-being for mine, meanwhile… you all were here, making jokes about it.”

Thomas expected Cordelia to be angry, and she was, on some level. Her expression was haunted, however, her eyes holding even more guilt than Matthew’s. He realized, suddenly, what she must be thinking: How dare they discuss in passing something she never realized herself? How could Thomas and his friends see it so clearly when she could not? Thomas wanted to tell her that Alastair didn’t try to hide it from them, not in the way that he hid it from her, that he’s learned from his parents that in many cases you it’s more difficult to see the bad in those you love, your heart always searching for the good, but James began to speak instead.

“Daisy-” James started.

“No,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. Thomas, finish.”

“I- What?” he stammered, nearly forgetting how the conversation began. His heart was racing; he shouldn’t have said so much, he knew. It would only cause more pain. He simply needed all of this nonsense about Alastair to stop, and he did not know how besides telling the truth.

“What happened that day at the Academy,” she prompted.

“Right. He… he was in a bad way, because of Clive’s death and because of his father. He told me to leave him alone, but I didn’t because I thought that I could help. I… I thought that he shouldn’t be alone. Now I wish that I had gone, because Matthew went looking for me. He found me with Alastair and started insulting him. He made fun of his hair, which I know sounds silly, but it wasn’t, was it? That’s why he changed it,” Thomas realized as he spoke. “So that he would- so he wouldn’t look Persian. Matthew could tell that it bothered him so much, that’s why he continued to say it.”

Thomas sighed as he continued. Alastair should be the one saying all of this, but he would never, nor would Matthew ever hear it. “Matthew asked him if no one cared about him enough to tell him that he looked silly, not his friends or his father. He told him that the prank was entirely his fault, that it was his fault Clive was dead. And then Alastair asked me to leave. I assume that’s when Alastair said the things he did, and I’m assuming that’s where he got the bruise I saw on his face later.”

“And Matthew placed Alastair’s belongings in the wing that Christopher blew up,” James offered.

“Sorry,” Christopher chimed in, though no one was much concerned about him or his actions that day.

“What? Was I meant to not retaliate after he said those things to me?” Matthew’s eyes narrowed at them.

Thomas was exasperated. “Of course that’s not what I’m saying! I’m saying that you need to stop pretending like you haven’t said and done things to Alastair that were just as terrible as what he’s said to you!”

“Are you serious?” Matthew asked. He looked to James for a defense, but none came.

“This entire time you’ve acted as if the whole ordeal was one-sided,” Cordelia said. “Like you were just some child helpless against my brother’s cruel words, but that was never the case, was it?”

Matthew didn’t respond.

“I need some time to think,” she said finally, walking quickly out of the tavern without waiting for a response.

Matthew turned back to Thomas. “Is this how it’s going to be now?”

“What do you mean? Me, not letting you mercilessly take out your own problems on someone who’s been trying to make amends, someone who has been through far enough? I suppose so. It’s up to you, Matthew. As I said before, you don’t need to forgive him, but I have. You are my friend, but so is he. He doesn’t have a problem with that. Do you?”

Matthew finally resigned himself. “No,” he said quietly.

Thomas knew this was only the beginning. Cordelia was almost certainly on her way to confront her brother, and soon this would be an even larger discussion. There were apologies and amends that still needed to be made. Even more, Thomas knew that Matthew’s issues with Alastair ran deeper than his actual dislike for the man, but he knew that allowing him to continue to take his own guilt and self-hatred out on Alastair would only continue to make life more difficult for all of them. Both Alastair and Matthew deserved to be free of it. Once Matthew was free of this nonsense with Alastair, Thomas knew that the real work towards true freedom would begin. And once Alastair was free of it… Thomas could only hope for what would come next.

Thanks for reading! Tagging my usual suspects (lmk to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs

#thomas lightwood #cordelia carstairs #matthew crit tag #alastair carstairs #the last hours #tlh #fanfic #fanfiction

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bramblepeltao3 · 3 years

Text

IDK where else to put this indulgent nonsense so, as one does, I’m putting it on my Tumblr.

Hey do you like my fic where I have an OC who is a gremlin girl and do you also like the Prince!Prompto AU trope and do you want to read a few loose little narrative bits about those two things coming together?

No?

Here it is anyway!

The clock in Prompto’s room sounded out to anyone who listened that the time was now eleven in the morning. Since it was a Thursday, this meant the start to the worst hour of his week, every week, for his whole life.

Every Thursday at eleven in the morning, Dr. Besithia would come by for his weekly check up. The Prince would spend the time trying not to show too much emotion as the doctor used a variety of needles to inject and extract numerous fluids, all while chastising him for being a waste of his and everyone else’s time.

It didn’t matter how strictly Prompto followed the doctor’s orders, or how much control Prompto had over following them in the first place. He never got any better, and he was always made well aware that it was his own fault. The prince of Niflheim was a sickly recluse, so sheltered from the public that many would even doubt his existence. And at fifteen years old, he was lonely and listless and so very tired of living like this.

The door to his bedroom began to open, and Prompto mentally steeled himself for another hour of angry commands, needles, and insults.

“Dr. Besithia to see you, your highness.” The attendant said with a bow. Prompto nodded in return, sitting upright on the edge of his well cushioned bed. The least little rebellion he could maintain was forcing that unpleasant old man to come to him.

But the person who stepped through, all dressed in well ironed white, was not Dr. Besithia. Not at all. This doctor was a woman, and much younger. She bowed slightly upon crossing the threshold before making her way over to him. Prompto, in spite of himself, felt compelled to stand and greet her like the well mannered young man he was supposed to be.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, highness.” She said with a small smile. She looked sad, but gentle, and seemed to be staring at something right behind his own eyes.

“I...I was expecting, I apologize…” Prompto was used to being ogled and visually picked apart by people. Something about her green eyes felt softer. Less invasive and judgemental. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking but her gaze seemed almost kind.

“You were expecting Dr. Besithia?” She asked.

Prompto nodded.

“You’re looking at her.” She smirked. “Doctor Delphia Besithia. Verstael is my father. I understand he was completing your weekly heath assessments, but business for his Imperial Majesty has become...pressing.” The doctor crossed the room over to the little seating area where the work was usually conducted. A clear table, two chairs, plenty of places to hook up Verstael’s array of electrical instruments. “Luckily I’m now officially a licensed medical professional myself, so I’ll be taking over for him.”

Prompto almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So...Dr. Bes-...Verstael won’t be…?”

“You know, why don’t we call my father Dr. Besithia, and you can refer to me as Dr. Delphia. Does that work, your highness?” She asked, setting the large case she was carrying on the table and opening it.

“Yes. I mean, I think that would work fine. Doctor.” Prompto joined her at the table, removing his coat to reveal his bare arms and taking a seat on his usual side of the table.

“So I went over your medical record on the way over, it seems like my old man kept to the same routine every week for a long time. Not all that surprising, except he usually at least tries to change things up whenever he doesn’t get results…”

Prompto cringed. “Yeah, it’s my fault. I just wasn’t trying hard enough.” He sighed, casting his eyes to the floor. He could feel her gaze staring into him once again.

“Your fault?” She asked. “Did my father tell you that?”

He felt himself beginning to sweat. Soon she’d understand just how awful of a patient he really was, and all the gentle niceness would end. She’d grow to hate and resent him just like Dr. Besithia did, he was sure.

“Dude. That’s bullshit.”

Prompto snapped his face up to hers, the bluntness of her assertion shocking him. The doctor had such a look of concern on her face.

“He was your doctor. Treating you was his job. If you weren’t getting better, that’s his fault. Not yours.”

Prompto blinked in confusion.

“If it makes you feel any better, and I doubt it does,” she started retrieving the same instruments he was always used to, “he’s like that with everyone. Everything is always someone else’s fault. No way his genius could be to blame!”

By her tone, Prompto inferred she’d suffered at his words just as much.

“So, let’s start with the easy part. How are you feeling today, your highness?” She asked, taking the other seat and smiling at him.

“How...um, well I’m…” Prompto was not prepared for this question. Easy part, indeed. “Tired, I guess. Like usual. I get dizzy if I stand too long.” And now his heart was pounding in fear. Did he answer wrong? Was that something he could do?

She was typing on a tablet resting in her lap. “Hmm, how about sleep? Do you think you get enough?”

Dr. Besithia never gave Prompto so much time to talk like this. It felt...strange. “I sleep a lot.”

“Do you feel well rested after? Or still tired?” She asked, still typing.

“Oh, uh...I guess I haven’t really thought of that? I’m sorry...guess still tired.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize for anything, highness. Okay, if it’s alright with you I’d like to start taking your vitals now.”

...did she just ask him permission? She did. And she was waiting for his answer.

He nodded. And the next thing to strike him was just how gentle she actually was. She never grabbed, but waited for him to offer his arm or hand as needed. She didn’t yell or snipe or speak critically of him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. It was oddly terrifying, somehow.

“Alright, your blood pressure is a little low, so we can start with that. There’s a few simple things we can change to try and get it stabilized. Hopefully that will help with the dizziness too!”

Prompto sat in stunned silence as she prescribed such basic things like drinking more water and adding salt to his meals. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It felt...too easy. After years of living like this, there was no way it could actually be so simple.

“Unfortunately I am going to need to get some blood for lab work, if that’s ok, highness.”

He felt like he might cry. She actually listened to him, and asked him to talk to her. If she really was replacing Besithia going forward, maybe things would actually get better. Maybe... He hoped she never got sick of him, and he’d do everything he could to prevent that.

“You can call me Prompto, um, Doctor. Please.”

She looked at him strangely, like he’d just told her there was a behemoth on her shoulder. But then she smiled again. “Why don’t you call me Del then, Prompto? Has anyone ever told you you have great veins? This is going to be so fast.” And surprisingly, it was. The whole ordeal was over so quickly he couldn’t believe she’d actually done it.

“Alright, unless there’s anything else you’d like to discuss, I think that ends our appointment today.” She began packing everything back up. “And if anything comes up at all, I’m only one floor away!”

“Wait, really?” Dr. Besithia always made a point of reminding him he had to travel a long way for these appointments.

“Yeah, I’m here at the palace full time. Another perk of the job. If you need anything at all, just ask your attendant. I’m here for you Prompto, any time.”

It took everything in him to maintain some amount of regal composure and not start crying. Somehow, for the first time, he had hope. And if nothing else, there was someone here who might actually listen to him.

---

Delphia bowed to the prince before turning and walking to the elevator. She held herself together perfectly until the elevator doors closed behind her and she was granted ten seconds of complete isolation. An hour’s worth of suppressed, extreme emotion bubbled out all at once in a large gasp for air. Her chest felt tight and her eyes burned with the threat of tears.

You have to do this. You have to do this. You have to be here for him, because no one else will.

Delphia composed herself just as the doors opened again. It was another two minutes before she made it to her office which she thankfully had to herself. She opened the door and flipped on the light.

And really, she should have expected that she wouldn’t actually get to be alone just yet.

“Doctor Besithia, how is our young charge on this day?” Chancellor Izunia, hat in hand, bowed to her.

“Terrible, but you already knew that didn’t you Ardyn?” She didn’t have time for his fanciful speech patterns and flowery prose right now. She had samples to run.

“Looking a bit red eyed yourself, Delphia. Hard first day on the job?” He tailed her to the workstation, watching carefully as she washed and gloved her hands.

“Why do you always ask questions you already know the answer to?” She asked, getting the little centrifuge ready to go.

“The same could be asked of yourself, Doctor.”

She sighed. “My father’s been purposefully keeping him ill. Or at least below a functional baseline.”

“You’re certain?” Ardyn asked like a child giddy about knowing the punchline to an old joke.

“Verstael did the same tests, same treatments, same everything over and over again despite no improvement. There’s only one reason you don’t change up the treatment plan.”

“Because it is working as intended.” Ardyn smiled in that wicked way that made her feel like a small rabbit being eyed by a wolf.

But this rabbit had an understanding with the wolf.

“Exactly. But here’s what I find really interesting.” She looked up from the samples currently shaking at a dizzying rate in the machine. “Whatever was going on, you wanted it to end.”

“Oh do walk me through your process of deduction, Delphia. Your brain is always so intriguing to pick.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cut the shit. You knew I’d see these numbers and figure out what was happening immediately.” She pointed at him accusingly. “When the Emperor gave Father his orders, you made damn sure I was the one who took his place.”

“Who better to take over the father’s work, than the daughter?”

“My graduating class had 44 other young doctors who would have been eager and willing to take up his job and do it unquestioningly. Exactly at his direction, no critical thought or deviation. And you insisted on the one singular doctor who, you knew for a fact, wouldn’t. And that, Ardyn, is the most suspicious thing of all.”

“You do wound me, young one. But all the same please go on, I am on the edge of my seat.”

She considered not continuing, just to piss him off. But she couldn’t resist any opportunity to show off. It was a problem. So on she went.

“Verstael takes pride in his projects, particularly the ones he...made from scratch.” She felt sick, thinking of the thousands of lives just like Prompto. His life was anything but easy, but it was worlds above that of his many, many brothers. “If he was interfering with the prince’s health on purpose, it must be because someone above him told him to. And there’s only one person who could tell him to do anything.”

Ardyn smiled, somehow even wider.

She began the process of sterilizing her instruments, taking her time with each.

“The Emperor wants the Prince to waste away in poor health, hidden from the public and with zero sense of self worth to boot. Which is curious, since the Emperor was the one who commissioned a prince in the first place! Which leads me to believe Iedolas wanted this from the start. So. Why create an heir and then sabotage him?”

“Perhaps because the heir is meant only to act as a symbol.”

“Mmmhmm.” Del had considered as much. Hearing it from the chancellor cemented it. “A means of reminding the people the monarchy is here to stay. But Project Deathless is right around the corner, or so Father claims. And if it comes to fruition, then Iedolas is the monarchy. Forever.”

“Who needs an heir when you never plan to retire?”

“Who needs an heir beloved by the people, capable of leading and inspiring a coupe before you have a chance to gain immortality?”

“In the meantime, the chain of succession is decided by blood.”

“And the snakes in the cabinet can’t finagle their way into increasing power, at least not as easily.”

“Delphia I do love our conversations, not many can keep up quite like you.”

“Like father, like daughter.” She sighed. “So where do you come in, Ardyn? What do you get out of Prompto getting better?”

“Is it not enough to see a poor child suffering, and wishing to see him well again?”

“No, it’s not.” She replied, despite the unsaid implication hanging above them. Once, she was that suffering little child. And he healed her bruises and did what was needed to get her out of that hell hole. But that was a long time ago. And they were both very different now.

Ardyn hummed in response. “I would like to hear the good doctor’s hypothesis before the big reveal.”

She sighed. This man was so exhausting. But he was the only person worth talking to, somehow. “I think it's suspicious because you have no interest in the throne. Well, not this one at least.”

“And…” He smirked, telling her she was on the right track.

“And what a coincidence that our little prince is the same age as Lucis’ little prince.”

“What a coincidence indeed!”

The centrifuge stopped, the samples were ready for testing.

“I think you have a use for him in your little tirade against the Astrals and your brother’s descendants.” She snarled.

“And what use would that be?”

“I don’t know.” Delphia leaned over the workstation, looking Ardyn in the eyes. “But whatever it is you’ve got planned, if it ends with Prompto hurt or dead, I’m putting a stop to it. Now.”

Ardyn clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Now now, Delphia, you wound me.” He clutched his hand over his chest in mock insult. “Such accusations. I know you too well, little finch. The guilt you feel, unable to end your little brothers’ suffering. It tears at your weak, mortal heart. I have brought you to one who may live, and perhaps even prosper, with your guiding hand and sharp mind. I have no intentions of causing the boy further harm.”

Del didn’t believe that for a moment. Not because he was a liar, though he was certainly lying. She knew what lurked through the chancellor’s veins. What was eating him from the inside out, slowly, with every breath he took. It was getting worse, warping him. He was not the same man who befriended her fifteen years ago. Though bits of that man were still in there. And she knew if she just continued to play along, did what she could to keep those bits floating around alive, she’d get that friend back.

She just needed some more time.

---

“Commodore! Fucking finally. I have a request.” Delphia shouted across the courtyard, having finally found the woman after an hour of chasing down lead after lead.

“Interesting way of approaching someone. Mind an introduction first?”

Delphia tempered her knee jerk instinct to say something rude. “My name is Doctor Besithia, I assume you’re familiar with my father?”

“You mean the quack keeping the prince weak and at his mercy?”

Oh, she liked this woman. “Yep. Well, used to. I’m the prince’s personal physician now.”

“You planning on keeping up daddy’s work, Doc?” The Commodore crossed over to her, looking down with suspicion.

“Not quite. I’ve been going over his notes and I think there might be some...room for improvement. But I might need your assistance.”

Aranea shrugged her shoulders. “I’m a bodyguard, not a nurse. When the prince can leave his bedroom then I’ll have a job to do. Until then-”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking for your help, Commodore.” Delphia smiled. “The prince needs to leave his bedroom.”

“Uh huh. But can he?”

“Yes.” Delphia smirked up at the taller woman. “We’ve been working on it for three weeks, but he’s more than ready now. Of course, he’s not supposed to go anywhere without his retainers. Specifically the one that knows how to hit things with a stick.”

Aranea crossed her arms and frowned. “You’re telling me, after less than a month, Prince Shortcake is already improving?”

And this is where Delphia wanted the conversation to be. She needed to know who could be trusted, and who was in on the whole charade. Where did the true loyalties of the prince’s shield lie?

“Yeah. And if he’s going to keep getting better, he needs fresh air and sunlight. Vitamin D doesn’t make itself, you know. So, you ready to get to work, Commodore?”

Aranea studied Del’s face, obviously searching for answers to the same questions.

“Alright, Doc. Show me a miracle, and we’ll have ourselves a casual little stroll.”

Fantastic.

---

“Fifteen minutes.” Del reassured the two of them. “That’s all you need. Fifteen minutes in direct sunlight with bare arms, that’s more than enough time to get your daily dose of Vitamin D.”

Prompto felt like his heart could beat right out of his chest. It’d been so long since he’d left the palace walls. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. The doctor was on his left, keeping a close eye on him. Most likely observing his physical state while he walked around.

On his right was Aranea, keeping an eye on everyone else in the courtyard. He hadn’t seen her in so long, he almost ran over to hug her before remembering his manners. She’d been like a sister to him when he was younger. But the weariness of the past seven years took just as much of a toll on her as it had on him.

Behind them, a guard was pushing a wheelchair. It was Del’s idea and insistence. “Just in case.” She said gently. “And there’s no shame in needing to use it.”

He might need it sooner than later, as everything around him was becoming overwhelming. The smell of fresh growing flowers, the sun on his face warming his skin, the light chatter of palace staff meandering around, their shoes clicking on the stone below.

It was making him dizzy.

“Yep, alright dude, easy now.” Del took his hand and helped guide him to the waiting wheelchair. “Take a few breaths, let me know what you need.”

Aranea did not look happy. “Is he alright?”

“I’m fine.” Prompto yelped, sitting up straighter. “I’m fine I’m just, it’s...a lot.”

“I bet.” Aranea smirked down at him.

“Are you okay to stay outside a little longer?” Del asked, voice filled with concern.

All of this positive attention was going to make him just about pass out.

“Yes. I’d like to, at least.”

Del smiled and put a hand on his forehead, wiping the hair from his eyes. “Alright, we’ll keep on. Just give me a heads up when you need to go back inside.”

He nodded. Prompto let the guard push him forward, watching little birds flicker through the sky and listening to his doctor and his shield have a not so private conversation between them.

“Well, credit where it’s due, Doc. Guess the Hippocratic oath still means something.”

“So then, about my proposal…”

“Count me in. Shortcake’s long overdue for some combat training.”

“Gradual, structured, short session combat training.”

“Yeah, I got it the first time.”

“With a lot of padded mats and-”

“Doc, you worry about his bone marrow count or whatever it is you do. Let me do my job.”

If he wasn’t already light headed, that would’ve sent him right over. He’d dreamed about getting to swing a sword around or hold a shield just like one of his father’s soldiers. In fact when he was still little and full of energy, he and Aranea would pretend spar with sticks or paper tubes for hours on end.

He’d all but abandoned being able to do that ever again. And now.

Del stopped and turned to look at him, smiling, her green eyes radiating warmth. “How you doing, Prompto?”

Aranea turned, crossing her arms, awaiting his response. And for the first time in forever she wasn’t looking down at him with pity. He hadn’t seen her look so content since they were kids.

Prompto nodded, smiling even wider. “I’m great.”

---

Cor was in complete disbelief. Not for the reason everyone else in the situation room was, oh no. While everyone else was staring mouth agape at the first recorded proof the prince of Niflheim actually existed, he was focused on the young woman walking next to him. The image wasn’t the closest, or clearest, but there was no mistaking.

That was Del Besithia, the six year old shit head daughter of Verstael, who treated an Imperial military research facility like her personal gymnasium. The little girl who called Cor a ‘dumbass’ in many colorful different ways. The kid who was so lonely and so deluded that she truly believed an army of clone babies were her brothers.

He’d tried so hard to get her to trust him, to get one of those babies to him so they could figure out what exactly was going on. In the end, she bailed on him, and Cor went home empty handed save a few photos of babies sleeping suspended in large cylinders.

From the looks of things, one baby did manage to get out though.

Incredible, really. Seeing the two of them standing next to each other, it was so obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. It was so obvious to Cor; the prince was one of those clones. And his ‘sister’ was his personal physician.

She looked happy. And sure, one still photograph couldn’t fill in a 14 year gap. But she was smiling, and with one of them, and she was walking freely outside. She’d told Cor with zero hesitation she knew she was going to die in that facility.

The look on her face when she made that statement had haunted him since. Maybe this one could replace it. She was fine. She was alive and okay.

There wasn't anything else he could’ve done for that kid.

“To be fair, hardly anyone ever saw Iedolas before he took the throne. And by that point he was already greying.”

“And we have no leads on who the mother could be. The lack of resemblance means nothing; the boy wears the Imperial regalia. That’s all the confirmation required.”

“Yes, but what if-?”

“That’s their prince.” Cor finally spoke up, hoping to end the back and forth guessing games. “Looks to be Noctis’ age as well. Prompto Aldercapt. Keep our eyes on him, I want to know his political and moral leanings before he has a chance to use them.”

The meeting adjourned, and his agents filed out. Cor had more business to get to. Training Gladio, overseeing the new recruits orientation, a briefing on the status of the wall, another briefing on the growing demon population…

He took another look at that photograph. Looking at Del smiling down at the prince, both of them looking happy and peaceful. There was something...pulling at him. Like a fist gripping his heart and trying to rip it from his chest. Something felt very wrong, a lingering threat aimed directly at them. Cor couldn’t tell why, but he knew they were in danger, and in spite of his loyalties he felt like he needed to protect those two.

It was a strange impulse, maybe even something of an instinct. He couldn’t place its origin but he had a feeling a cigarette and some sleep would help dispel it.

Or...

---

“So...guns, huh?” Del frowned, watching as the prince shot off another round down the firing range.

“Your prescription of sunshine and lollipops-”

“I didn’t prescribe lollipops-”

“-can only do so much. He’s lacking the coordination for hand to hand combat, and swords wear out his stamina too quickly. A gun is lighter, easier to handle, and keeps him out of reach of more conventional weapons.” Aranea looked very pleased with herself.

“Well...at least he’s wearing ear protection.” He was also standing with a more determined posture than when they’d first met. And his skin was starting to show a little color, freckles not unlike her own dotting his cheeks and shoulders.

“Emperor dropped in yesterday.” Aranea sighed.

Del felt her stomach drop. If the hypothesis she’d shared with Ardyn was anywhere close to correct, this was bad.

“Prince Shortcake shrank in his shadow, like the past few months never even happened.” The shield began chewing on her thumb, furrowing her brow. “Iedolas just grunted, looking as pissy as ever, and walked away. Poor kid. He’s still got a long way to go on that confidence.”

“You’d think the guy would be even a little bit happy his son was getting better.” Del shrugged her shoulders, hoping the anxiety wasn’t evident in her voice.

Aranea narrowed her eyes, studying Del for a moment. “You know, I really don’t get who you think you’re fooling.” She said before turning back around, walking to the prince to continue coaching his form.

Del blinked. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

---

“Like, seriously, what the fuck was that supposed to mean?” She asked, several hours later, pacing in her office while flipping through her notes.

“The mind of the Commodore is a mysterious one.” Ardyn had once again invited himself in, leaning back in her chair, boots resting on her desk. “But little finch, you have not been the most subtle in your intentions. There are whispers, you know…”

“Intentions?” She snapped. “Oh how terrible, I want the prince to not wither away and die in his bedroom at the age of sixteen. What fucking whispers, Ardyn?”

“The daughter of Verstael schemes to make the prince completely reliant upon her, such that when he overthrows his father and takes the throne he will do so at her own whims.”

Del pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache rising up. “I’m getting real fucking sick of politics. It’s like no one can do a single nice thing without having some wicked ulterior motive! It’s bullshit.”

“You have seemingly worked miracles, Delphia, in the eyes of the court.” Ardyn flicked at the brim of his hat to get a better view of her. “That is always suspicious.”

“Miracles. Intentions. All I did was treat my patient. I’m...I just want my brother to be healthy! Any sister would want that, much less one with a medical license. Is that so fucking terrible?!” Del was going to snap. Nothing about anything was ever easy in this godsforsaken hellscape of a country.

Ardyn lifted his eyebrows, eyes flickering to the door, before lifting a finger to his lips.

Del got the message. Someone was listening. And they heard...that. Slowly, quietly, she started to step towards the door. She gestured at Ardyn, asking him to talk so it wasn’t obvious they knew.

“Your heart is pure as always, little finch. But when one is steeped in their own darkness for so long, well…”

Del wrenched the door open and shot her head out, seeing no one but hearing fast paced foot steps.

“Darkness tends to be all one can see.”

She took off, down the long hallway, turning the corner. Nothing, not even a sound of a door. Whoever just heard her stupid ramblings, they got away.

“I did warn you to be careful.” Ardyn said from behind her shoulder.

“Yeah.” Del swallowed hard, catching her breath. “You did.”

---

6 notes · View notes

lumaejin · 4 years

Text

Happy Halloween?

↬ Rating: General Audiences

↬ Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

↬ Genre: Fluff. Halloween themed BTS housemates AU

↬ Category: M/M

↬ Relationship: Sope (Jung Hoseok x Min Yoongi)

↬ Word Count: 3.6k

↬ Summary: The maknaes are once again playing matchmaking by sending Hoseok and Yoongi to a funfair. On Halloween. While it's raining. Oh, and Yoongi totally doesn't want to kill them at all. Who would have thought that it would have actually initiated something between the two of them?

gif made by me - story written in 2020

(cross posted on AO3)

The rain clouds loomed overhead, darkening the sky and obscuring the sun from view. Aside from a few lone cars passing by, the roads were completely empty. Not that it surprised Yoongi; no one in their right minds would be driving to a funfair on a stormy day. Specifically, on Halloween.

"We should have never given in," Yoongi said, his hands on the steering wheel.

Hoseok glanced at the downpour, his eyes moving up to the ever-darkening sky. A frown appeared in place of his usual smile, though he covered it up quickly.

"Come on, don't be like that. It'll be fun!" Hoseok said, "Besides, they would have never stopped bothering us if we didn't agree. It's better to suffer now than for the rest of our days."

"We're going to a fair. In the rain. Because the maknaes forced us to. And you're telling me it's going to be fun?"

"They weren't the only ones forcing us to go..."

"Missing the point."

"Right," Hoseok said, "What I mean is: make the best of the situation, you know? We both know what's going to happen if we come back earlier than planned."

There was a moment of silence. Both of them did know. Very well in fact. They had had enough of Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung's devilry to last them a lifetime. Their plans of revenge were feared by all (Hoseok, Namjoon, Seokjin and him) and could last weeks on end. Of course, Yoongi felt some sort of affection for the three and all their "punishments" weren't really punishments. That still didn't stop their behaviour from being a right pain in the butt, though.

This time, however, it wasn't just the maknaes they needed to be worried about. Seokjin and Namjoon had been hell-bent on making them go too, and Seokjin, especially, had more power in the household than all the others combined. To have him somewhere in the equation made everything so much more dangerous and Yoongi could already see the mountain of dishes he'd have to wash. Every day. For five weeks.

"We're not risking that," Yoongi said with a sigh, "But I might or might not beat them up once we get home."

"No objections," Hoseok said, "Um I mean, don't go too hard on them."

A roar of thunder interrupted their conversation and Hoseok shuddered at the sound. His eyes once again found the darkening clouds, his eyebrows furrowing. Rain was okay, but thunder and lightning though...

"They really had to pick today," Hoseok said, shaking his head. Not only was it Halloween (a festival he disliked simply because it was rather... frightening), but the weather was at its worst. They hadn't had a storm like this in weeks, not since the thunderstorm which had nearly blown away half of the country.

Yoongi grumbled in agreement, catching sight of a neon sign at the side of the road. So this was it... Seoul Fun Fair? He'd never heard of it before, which, in itself was rather unusual. After all, Jimin had claimed that this fair was pretty popular.

"What are the chances that they have a tracker on this car?" Yoongi asked. He had half a mind to continue driving -- maybe to a nearby village -- but the thought of being found out loomed over his head like a dark rain cloud.

"Do you even have to ask?" Hoseok said.

He was right, of course; both of them knew the maknaes well enough by now. In fact, Yoongi would be extremely surprised if they didn't have a tracker on the car. Shaking his head, he exited the motorway and stopped the car at the traffic lights.

The sky had darkened considerably, causing an unnerving feeling to settle in the pit of his stomach. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he looked back towards the main road.

"The rain's getting worse," Hoseok said.

"Do we have an umbrella?"

"Yeah. I think there might be one in the trunk... but um... I think it's that small and pink one."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at this. Typical of the maknaes. Typical. It was one of their many "grande" schemes and he knew for a fact that Jin and Namjoon had become a victim of this one in particular before.

"Those three boys are unbelievable," he muttered, starting the engine of the car again.

Another 15 minutes passed before they arrived at the funfair, during which Yoongi swore that he felt the temperature drop by at least 20 degrees. The trees rustled wildly, casting large, ominous shadows on the roads, which most certainly did not help to ease the feeling of dread. In short, Yoongi very much felt like punching the three maknaes in the face. For real. No joke.

The parking lot was empty when they arrived (surprise, surprise!), though pumpkins of different sizes and shapes had been strategically placed on the lawn. Hoseok had to admit that they fulfilled their purposes well; he was much more scared than he would like to admit. It didn't help that the sky was almost completely dark now, meaning that the candles inside the pumpkins were one of the only sources of light.

After coming back with a parking ticket, the two of them decided to walk towards the fair in search of warmth. Neither wanted to budge, but it turned out that the car they had taken -- Jin's to be precise -- was the one with the broken heating system. (Hoseok had to give the maknaes credit; they seemed to have gotten better and better at planning. Though, at the moment, he'd rather they were terrible at it.)

As they walked towards the gates of the funfair, Hoseok was very much aware of how close the pink umbrella forced them to be. He was terribly aware of how their arms touched more than usual, how he could smell the light hint of cedarwood. He knew one of the maknaes had given them that umbrella on purpose, and while he did curse them, he also felt slightly, just slightly, grateful. It wasn't every day that he got to walk this close to his crush- no, roommate.

A mantra of "I don't like Yoongi this way"s started playing in his mind, well, because he definitely didn't like Yoongi that way.

Nope.

He totally didn't sometimes stare at Yoongi in his sleep. And he absolutely didn't hang on to every word the latter said. Oh, and he most definitely did not want to cuddle him. Not at all. No.

It was simply a light slip up, one which didn't mean too much. It was normal for friends to occasionally find themselves in a dangerous zone, right? Though now that he really considered it, these thoughts never seemed to surface when he was thinking about Namjoon or Seokjin or Jimin or Jungkook or Taehyung... No- he needed to distract himself. This wasn't a topic to ponder on and he was bound to overthink it.

"How did the maknaes even get Jin and Namjoon involved?" Hoseok asked, grabbing at a random question in his head. Anything was good, as long as he was distracted.

"Probably by threatening. Or Jin and Namjoon just felt mischievous. Though they most likely told Jin that they were gonna cook something in his kitchen."

"They're not that terrible at it. Jungkook makes food every now and then," Hoseok said.

"It's not that. It's when they're together that they make a massive mess," Yoongi said, "Once, I walked into them having a food fight and it took Jin 5 days to scrub the kitchen clean. This was before you moved in."

They stopped at the gates of the fair, looking beyond it sceptically. A few lights were on, but most of the booths seemed to be closed. That wasn't the concerning part though because neither of them had expected large crowds anyway. What was surprising and slightly off-putting, was the fact that all of the stands and the attractions looked worn down and old. *What type of fair was this, if they didn't make sure to repair their equipment? *

Come to think of it... he hadn't heard about this fair before the maknaes mentioned it. Hoseok had always been under the impression that he knew Seoul well and if this funfair was as popular as they said it was, he should have heard of it at some point, right? The thought made him unconsciously step closer to Yoongi.

"Um Yoongi," Hoseok said, "Have you ever heard of this fair before?"

"No," Yoongi said, "Why the sudden question?"

"Don't the booths look a bit run-down to you? It just feels like they're gonna fall apart at any moment," Hoseok said, pausing for a second as he looked around anxiously.

Silence.

"Where did those three discover this fair anyway?" Hoseok asked, "They said it's really popular, but it doesn't really look that way. It seems more like business hasn't been good for years or something."

"They wouldn't send us somewhere dangerous," Yoongi said.

"Not on purpose," Hoseok countered.

Yoongi scanned the fair again with caution, before abruptly turning back to Hoseok. "It's fishy. But we should stop worrying before it drives us crazy. Let's just find somewhere warm to sit and wait it out."

He had a point of course. The rain was relentless as it pounded against their small umbrella and though they tried to stand close enough to prevent it, at least half of their shoulders were already drenched. If they stood here any longer, their shoes and trousers were bound to get soaked as well.

Yoongi reached out, opening the rusty gate and wincing slightly as it creaked loudly. Even though Hoseok tried to get his mind off of it, the way everything looked worn down continued to bother him. The paint was fading and there was rust everywhere; it honestly creeped him out. Or maybe it was that, paired with the fact that it was Halloween.

Or maybe it was Hoseok's sneaking suspicion that they were the only customers the shopkeepers had seen in years. Something about the way their eyes glinted just seemed off...

"I think that booth over there has a place to sit," Yoongi said, "And there's a fireplace behind the counter so it's bound to be somewhat warm."

"Sure," Hoseok agreed.

As the two of them crossed the lawn -- still followed by the stares of the funfair staff -- a peculiar shape caught Hoseok's eye. It looked sort of like the shadow of another person, maybe of someone walking towards them. As he turned to point it out to Yoongi however, it was gone.

It must have been a trick of the light, Hoseok thought as he shook it off. He had a tendency to imagine things when he was paranoid and even though Yoongi had told him to pay it no mind, he really wasn't succeeding. After all, everywhere he looked, something or someone creepy seemed to stare back.

Reaching the shelter of the awning, Hoseok put down the pink umbrella and greeted the lady behind the counter. He sighed in disappointment; the booth didn't offer coffee. Instead, the two of them ordered two cups of hot chocolate and sat down.

Even as the warmth of the booth simmered out towards them, Hoseok couldn't stop shivering from the cold. It was like sitting in a pile of snow and even the hot chocolate couldn't do much to help.

It was so cold in fact, that his tongue stopped perceiving the sweetness of the drink, leaving only an unappetizing blankness in his mouth.

"Do you think Namjoon and Seokjin will kill Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook if we come back home with a cold?" Hoseok asked.

"They won't. The brats will feel bad enough on their own, so they won't need reprimanding."

Thunder and lightning interrupted their conversation and Hoseok turned back towards the stands and booths opposite them. The sight made him freeze, his cup pausing by his lips. A shadow had appeared... the same shadow he had seen while crossing the lawn! It was lurking in front of the two, before making its way towards them slowly.

Once the initial shock of having seen the shadow of another person had subsided, however, he'd managed to calm himself down quickly. After all, it was normal for someone to come towards this booth; he and Yoongi couldn't be the only ones at the fair.

Just as he was about to turn away, however, the shadow started morphing. Morphing, and not in a normal way. Rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, Hoseok stared avidly at the monster-like form.

"Yoongi," he whispered, his voice trembling as he pointed towards the lawn.

He glanced sideways to see Yoongi's eyes widen in shock and confusion. Hoseok had no idea what to do. Was this some sort of supernatural thing that only happened in movies? What were they to do in a situation like this? Shadow-monsters or whatever that thing was didn't exist in real life, right?

It seemed, however, that Yoongi had the answer. In the blink of an eye, he had started dragging Hoseok by the arm, not caring about the rain or the way both of their clothes were starting to get soaked. He fumbled around for the small umbrella, only to find that he had left it behind. His heart pounded heavily as he turned around; the shadow was still there.

It was following them.

He tapped Yoongi again, but the latter only looked ahead. He was moving the two of them forward at a constant speed and Hoseok really didn't mean to notice the way his hands gripped Hoseok's wrist tighter than ever before. Or the way he felt Yoongi's shallow breaths on his face. Or the fact that his t-shirt was starting to become really see-through. It really wasn't the time to worry about things like that, but sometimes, Hoseok couldn't help it.

"Yoongi," Hoseok said breathlessly a few minutes later. They were mindlessly rushing around the fair, looking for a place to hide. But the shadow was hot on their tail. Every time Hoseok looked back, it was there. Was this how the main characters in those goddamn horror movies Jungkook liked to watch felt like? He'd never appreciated being forced to watch them, and he certainly didn't appreciate the experience either.

"Come on," Yoongi said, tugging at Hoseok's hands. He had stopped to scan the area around them, his eyes finally landing on a small shack in the very centre of the fair.

Then, just as he was about to turn around again, a funny feeling made him stiffen. Was something behind them? Of course, the shadow was... but had it come nearer? He automatically looked towards Yoongi for reassurance, but the expression on the latter's face didn't help one bit, nor did the way Yoongi was staring at the ground behind Hoseok, or the way he was muttering something under his breath (something which sounded oddly like "Maknae" and "Kill").

Hoseok opened his mouth to ask, but before he could even form a word, they were running as fast as the muddy ground would allow them. Mud was splattering all over Hoseok's trousers and shoes, as they raced towards the small shack Yoongi was pointing at. The shadow was falling behind, but neither of them dared to slack off. In fact, though Hoseok had always been a hard-working person if he did say so himself, it felt as though he had never been this diligent before.

"Hide," Yoongi said, panting heavily. His hair was matted to his forehead as he pushed the door open, moving behind one of the many crates.

Hoseok stepped in behind Yoongi, nearly tripping over a long piece of fabric on the ground. Clown costumes were carelessly placed over the crates and straps of silk littered the floor. It creeped Hoseok out, though he tried to hide that as best as he could.

"How are we supposed to hide from a shadow?" Hoseok said, forcing out a shaky laugh. His heart was pounding against his ribcage like a hammer. His attempts to push the fear aside and lighten the mood were unsuccessful. "I think I've seen enough of Jungkook's horror movies to know that shadows can never be outrun."

Yoongi ignored him in true Yoongi-fashion, but Hoseok didn't mind. He hadn't expected a reaction or a reply, and he had most certainly not expected his half-assed attempt at a joke to actually elicit some type of reaction, especially when the atmosphere was as tense as it was.

As the two of them huddled behind their respective hiding places, Hoseok tried to keep still. It was hard. Really hard. How was he to control his shivering? Or the loudness of his heartbeat? Or the raggedness of his breathing? He was afraid the shadow could hear it. Or maybe even scent them. Or maybe it was already in the room. Maybe it had already found them, but they didn't know?

What if they were caught by this shadow? What if it killed them? Devoured them? Turned them into beasts? Ghosts? Undead? He shuddered as the idea of never being able to live normally again engulfed him. His heart accelerated and all fears, which had been ignored initially, surfaced. He gasped for air frantically, his senses going numb.

He and Yoongi were going to be turned into monsters. They would hunt their friends down, they would do horrible things, they would-

A cold hand grasped his shoulder and Yoongi's familiar presence appeared behind him. Hoseok was turned around slowly, his eyes catching Yoongi's warm brown ones. It brought him so much comfort that he almost forgot about the whole situation altogether. At that moment, only the two of them existed. No one else. No ghosts, no shadows. No monsters, no Halloween.

"We've lost the shadow," Yoongi said.

Hoseok snapped back to reality.

His breathing was slowing down, the pounding of his heart was starting to calm. It was as if Yoongi had flipped off a switch in Hoseok, as if he alone had the power to do so. As they sat in the same position for the next few minutes, Hoseok was very glad indeed that Yoongi was with him. Otherwise, he was sure that the bout of anxiety would have been much more nerve-rattling.

"Thanks, Yoongi," he said, as his breathing returned to normal. He noticed only then how close the two were... and how Yoongi's hot breath was caressing his neck. His cheeks warmed immediately.

"It's no problem Seok," Yoongi replied. His gaze lingered on Hoseok for another moment, before they looked back to the door.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know," Yoongi replied, "I just saw a door and ran."

"It could have been locked," Hoseok said.

"It could, but it wasn't."

"Well thank god for that. I don't what I would have done if we hadn't been able to enter," Hoseok said, his voice still slightly shaky. He was doing his best to keep it steady, but it was easier said than done. "How long do you think we should stay here?"

"I don't know," Yoongi replied, "But what I do know is that Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung are dead."

There was a dangerous glint in the older's eyes, one which hadn't been there before. In fact, Hoseok had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with his anxiety attack. He blushed even darker as he imagined how horribly embarrassing it must have looked.

"They didn't know there was going to be a creature lurking here," Hoseok said carefully. He was annoyed at them, sure, but he couldn't just let them suffer a sure death without protesting at least a little. Yoongi's threats before had been mild, serious, but mild. Right now, however, Hoseok was sure that they were very much dangerous (loud-telling-off-and-death-glares-for-the-rest-of-the-year-dangerous and doing-all-chores-for-the-rest-of-their-lives-dangerous). He could already hear the shitstorm the maknaes would be subjected to as soon as he and Yoongi arrived at home.

"But you had a panic attack because of them!" Yoongi burst out angrily.

"It's fine... They couldn't have known," Hoseok said.

"It's not fine! They should have checked that this place was safe!"

"Once we tell them what happened, they'll regret it enough. There's no need to make them feel even worse."

Yoongi huffed in response. For a moment, the two of them just sat there unmovingly. Thunder was booming outside and lightning illuminated the room suddenly and repetitively. The world around them was both loud and silent; it made the hairs on Hoseok's arm stand on end.

"I care about you," Yoongi said, "and it hurts to see you in that state. I..."

A small bit of hope surfaced within Hoseok, but he did his best to push it down again.

"I would hope you did, we are friends after all," Hoseok replied, forcing a small smile.

They were friends, nothing more.

"No, I think I should have told you this a while ago," Yoongi said. He was still staring at him with an expression Hoseok had never seen him wear before. Yoongi was biting his lip and avoiding eye contact. And then, Hoseok saw the blush. Min Yoongi was blushing. "I'm sorry if this ruins our friendship, but I can't hold it in anymore."

"You're scaring me," Hoseok laughed nervously. Lightning flashed behind him, It made the situation seem much more unbearable than it was.

Behind all the joking, however, his whole body reacted to the words. Was it really possible? Did Yoongi really have some sort of non-platonic feelings? As quickly as that hope surfaced, however, Hoseok let it go. It was never going to happen.

Yoongi hesitated, his mouth opening and closing every few seconds as Hoseok tried his best to concentrate on the sound of the rain. He tried desperately to distract himself from the scene playing out in front of him. Yoongi was giving him too much hope. Too much hope. He was going to fall. He was going to fall and crash down if he didn't control himself.

"I- Seok, I like you a lot," Yoongi said, stumbling over his own words, "And not in a platonic way."

The world seemed to stand still as if had been captured by a camera and all Hoseok could do was stare at the photograph. The patter of the rain disappeared and he stopped registering the lightning or the thunder. This was the moment he hadn't even dared to dream about.

Yoongi had just confessed to him.

He had... right? This wasn't some sort of hallucination? No... this was real, very much real. And all he could do was blankly stare. Then, as if he had been freed from a spell, he lurched forward and hugged Yoongi.

"I'm sorry really," Yoongi said, "For ruining our friendship."

"Oh god," Hoseok replied, "you don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

Hoseok pulled out of the hug, holding Yoongi's shoulders tightly. He was scared that if he let go, everything would disappear, that he would wake up in his room. With a deep breath, he pulled himself together, "I like you a lot too..."

They were close enough for their noses to touch. Yoongi's eyes flickered down to Hoseok's lips and Hoseok really couldn't help it. The urge to lean forward was strong, and then... he just gave in. Their lips met in the span of a millisecond. It was as if they had been made to fit together.

If it hadn't been for the overwhelming need to breathe, they might have stayed like that forever, heck, Hoseok was ready to give up the rest of his life to stay like th-

Click.

Flash.

They froze in their rather compromising position. Had that just been a camera? Who was there taking pictures of people kissing... More importantly, who was at this fair, on Halloween, standing in the downpour to take pictures outside the storage room of a haunted house?

Hoseok dreaded turning his head and when he did, he had to suppress a scream. What looked like a massive monster, at first sight, turned out to be three people. Three people Yoongi and he knew very well. His dongsaengs were standing in the doorway, dripping wet and smiling like madmen.

"What are you three doing..." Hoseok began, before trailing off as he looked down to the ground. Their shadow looked awfully like...

His head snapped to Yoongi. He could hear the growling and the older's quickening breathing.

This was going to be a massacre.

"Happy Halloween?" Tae said uncertainly.

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

Text

Bio! Dad Strange part 4

Shorter but a paris update for her life and a little on gotham with Jason as Robin while Tim is a hero Stalker.

Marinette is 7 when she changes schools, ordered into the Dupont school chain by her teachers since she was getting ‘difficult’ and contradicting their ciriculum. When they challeneged her on this, she went to the school board with Rolland beside her of all people.

The board agreed on one thing, Marinette’s contradictions were not only factually correct, but were done to prevent the outdated ciriculum from hurting her classmates. Instead of punishing her, she got to skip a gade and was given to Dupont as a ‘highly reccomended gifted student’.

Her first day she met Max, who also skipped a grade. The pair bond in five seconds over a new programming focused on learning emotional intelligence. Uncle Riddler was showing her it, and Max got his hands on a various ai bases. This led to then teaming up and designing the one and only Markov together, if only in schematics.

A week in and the two notice that some kids are being followed around by a guy with a bat. They report it. Again and again, but no one can find him.

One day he catches the pair on their way to Max’s—they wanted to work on their ai together, ok? The guy tries to hit Max, saying something about them being lucky metas that needed to suffer.

Marinette’s gotham training kicked in. She caught the bat, ripped it away from him and hit him in the chest with it, while yelling at max to run.

At the end of the incident, videotaped by a bystander, the Dupont Stalker was arrested.

Marinette was given another name by the police, ‘fille de batte’ or bat girl. Her having family in gotham only made the nickname more popular.

This put her on Kim and Alix’s radar. Kim wanted a challenge for fighting and competitions, and this tiny kid did that—to an adult! New friend and rival!

Alix was went from shock to joy as Marientte does art. She does art. Art friend to rant to found!

Nino ran into Marinette not long after Kim and Alix attached themselves to her and Max. Nino became their judge for Kim challenges. Including Mari pinning Kim to the mat, or deciding who did a circus move better (Mari won acrobatics).

Chloe doesnt go to dupont until next year, and sabrina is in another class, mildly concerned for Marinette.

In this au, again, Dupont is considered a ‘i would not be shocked if there were metas there’ school for gifted kids in any way.

Marinette is sent there for her insane science obsession at the time, but is also put in their arts program with Alix to develop as an artist with her medium, fabrics and fashion.

And if marinette redesigns hero outfits as “monsiuer ross, scribbles have more style, let alone fashion sense” alot, well. Kids get obsessed a lot and the Justice League is a common one, as are known villians. Her everyday outfits having different hero schemes—oddly enough some forensic scientist she’s obsessed with from some american city ended up in her mix—well. She’s a kid and showing signs a few types of anxiety.

Possible social and OCD and a developing case of perfectionism common to the arts program. The school has her see a therapist and know she isnt telling them everything beyong mild concern for her gotham family, and confusion over people just ‘not getting things’ as she is terribly smart and good at finding patterns and how do people not see it?

By the end of the year Marinette is in a strong friend group who’s parents and hers have decided to have joint custody during the school year.

She was now (forced) to learn vietnamese from Kim’s Grandparents, italian from Rolland (her nonno that has a Thing for tradition and somehow married Gina and raised Tom mostly on his own while running the bakery to boot), english from Father/Strange, Mandarin from her Maman and she started Arabic to talk with Nino’s aunt who kept saying marinette was her future in-law and point out that nino and her are friends, not dating ma’am.

However, Nino endured most of this with her-not the italian or Mandarin, but the others. Kim couldnt get Arabic but mandarin was a breeze for him. Alix cannot get vietnamese or arabic but Mandarin is her jam after french. Max just speaks french and english, he understands the others he just cant get the sounds right, ok?

When Marinette goes back to Gotham that summer, she ends up dealing with Hero Stalker Tim (jason is robin now) while looking for Red Hoodie who No oNE is telling her what happened and she’s worried, ok?

Tim feeds her obbsession with fixing problems. He sometimes sends her building layouts of places Catwoman stole from. And then the jewlry reappears thanks to a nervous Marinette coached by Rose and Ghoul while Frost handles her post-fix it freak out. Tim also may or may not get helped by her alot during Batman Stalking Time as she teaches his butt how to sneak and complains he’s worse than penguin.

Tim hates that, works on it, and still has nonidea who she is. He does admit to figuring out who batman may be, but needs more evidence so...

Marinette hits him becuase “thats dangerous!” And tries to lecture him in identites.

Batman’s radiowave was used for said lecture.

“And it puts their families in danger you, uh, hero stalker! And stuff so no more identity investigations!”

“They have the same builds, and did signsture moves from—“ the signal cutout.

He and Jason are more careful... ish. They change channels and monitor the old one.

Sometimes Batman catches Marinette and Tim talking about coldcases and she has asked three times if he heard anything about Jason’s street kid identity. Jason is feeling guilty about this as she’s his Pixie Pop. This lets Bruce know that the probably-clark’s-kid would keep Jason away from GCPD and CPS.

When a convo leads to Batman finding out Tim and Marinette have considered asking the police for help with a case of medicine that needed to be recalled as it was beign used to mule drugs contaminated the batches and hurt patients, but turned it down after she saw some taking bribes from Fish, Batman lets Gordon know and an investigation is launched.

While Bats is away, Jason visits marinette as Robin and tries to get her to bats for more information and a lecture on heroing without adult supervision. Maybe.

Only she’s currently stealing from a sleeping selina at another HQ. A Selina who has stopped trying to stop marinette and let riddler turn her house into one of his ‘traps’ to stop Marinette’s ‘return theiving’.

Jason gets stuck in a trap. Marinette is gone by then, scared Robin will tell Superman about her and he’ll hurt her family or something.

Catwoman is annoyed at Marinette’s sucess. She goes to stop the girl after leaving him tied up for Batman with a message: leave her new kitten-to-be alone.

Follow up talk post-Caught Marinette reverse theiving.

“Blame the Council’s decrees. She’s their little princess, and my new neice,” Catwoman watched Batman carefully.

Confused Batman in interrogator mode. “You mean the Court of Owls, arent they disbanded?”

“Bats, the council is gotham’s underground. Apparently Two-Face made the contracts as penance for scaring the Princess during a breakout. Unless you want an organized attack by the council, steer clear of her.”

Batman conencts the dots and curses himself. The girl he was looking for last summer is the Princess of Gotham’s underground. It will be hell finding her. And Superman/Clark will lose it when he’s told.

He lets the JL know about it, saying ‘possibly kyptonian clone, female child. Gotham’s underground is calling her their Princess. Connor and Kidflash tailed her last summer during the arkham breakout while Robin was with the Titans. Be alert for a small asian girl.’

That was how Marinette ended up on the JL watch list and how Superman had another existential crisis.

Dick freaks out with the Titans over this. Becuase kyltonian raised by villians is terrifying. Jason forwarded the message and adds on “she’s a good kid and wants to help. Somehow keeps zsasz and joker from killing people, so its not good to take her away or issolate her from the villians if you find her. From what i remember, she is terrified of her family beign put in danger. The others wont listen to me. If you can, pass this along to the other sidekicks and your allies—none of them trust me enough to listen. I cant talk to her as a civilian like i used to either for obvious reasons. And she’s terrified of me-Robin. Maybe you can get through to her, or someone else can. Just talk to her first, she’s more reasonsble than she looks”

Dick doesnt read the add on until much later and regrets it.

He met marinette once. She was a very excited kid babbling about aerodynamics in acrobatics and asking about that. Not hero things, not power things, or justice league but That.

He tried to be nice but he was having a horrible mission, saw the girl floating as she rambled and tried to grab her.

She freaked out and bolted, sort of. He got slammed into a building, or would have had she not caught him, rambled in french while trying to apologize (he was a but stunned from the throw, and rebooting as villian-kyptonian was... nice?) and put him on the roof, hit his communicator and said one thing.

“I think i broke your robin? All are robins like bird bones or something?”

He regained a functioning brain as that. That was something he could respond to.

“I am human thank you!”

That seemed to be enough for her as he moved to get up. She waved bye and bolted, something about Rose being mad at her for being late...

“Titans. I think we might have been wrong about the kid...”

Later with Young Justice the info was passed on.

Jason asked if anyone read his attachment and was met with silence. He groaned and told them “so another team she’s going to avoid... great.”

Marinette added the titans to her list of ‘people to aviod—tetch and Jerimah were the worst. Luthor and Cadmus were under them. Then the entire Justice League (they would tell batman or superman. Snitches.), followed by GCPD, CPS, the Bat Family and now Titans. She wonders if she needs to add anyone else, and hates that she cant talk to heroes. They could help with controlling her powers instead of suppressing them but she cant trust them not to give her to superman like batman did with Rose to Poison Ivy and she’s pretty sure Superboy too.

Next time, times marinette accidently put together identities and curses Hero Stalker Tim for her now knowing.

#bio!dad au #bio!dad strange #my au #marinette strange dupain cheng #my ideas #marinette strange dupain cheng part 4 #maribat #ml au

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pandawritespoorly · 4 years

Text

Soap

Author’s Note: Got bored and felt like hurting Marinette (because Kwami knows I've done enough to Adrien recently). So, I searched the internet for an obscure fact about Ladybugs I could hurt her with. Enjoy!

Summary: Ladybug collapses after a fight against a soap akuma.

Marinette nudges the model sleeping on her chaise. “Kitty, I’m sorry to wake you-”

“There’s a ‘kume?” He guesses.

“There ain’t no rest for the wicked, unfortunately.” She smiles at him softly as he sits up from his nap, stretching.

“What’s he got for us today?”

“Soap.”

“Ooh, well that’s new at least.”

Marinette shrugs, heading for the balcony. “Maybe, unless he focuses on the bubble aspect.”

“Is it too much to ask for him to just shake things up a bit?” Adrien groans.

Marinette giggles as she transforms. Ladybug shakes her head at her partner. “Silly kitty, you know that old geezer doesn’t have an ounce of creativity in him. It’s too much effort.”

Chat winks. “Not to play devil’s advocate, but some of the akuma designs are rather creative…”

She shudders. “Ugh, if that’s what you call it, then I don’t think I can associate with you anymore.”

---

He doesn’t focus on the bubble aspect, as it would seem, so there’s that. The fight mostly consists of them getting sprayed with a high pressured hose of soapy water. Poor Ladybug looks exhausted, and given how many times each of them has been slammed into a wall, Chat can’t blame her. She does have less armor after all.

Not that it makes much of a difference. The suits protect them nonetheless, the armor is mostly for show.

He wonders if she changed her suit recently, because something about it seems a little off, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

That said, she’s always been more susceptible to the cold, and being sprayed with water can’t be helping things, especially with how shaky she seems. Kind of pale, and moving slower.

She’s shivering, poor bug.

Eventually, they swipe the akumatized object and Ladybug breaks it. It could be his imagination, but he’s fairly certain she has a little more trouble with it than she should. Cure or no cure, Chat will definitely be making her take a nap when they get back. She needs a break.

The second the magical beetles finish their clean-up around the city, she turns to him. Before either of them can speak, a light overtakes her. Tikki is forcing a detransformation, no warning beeps at all.

Something is very wrong.

Marinette stumbles over to him, collapsing against him. He catches Tikki, who barely lasted any amount of time in the air before she just gave out.

What’s going on?

“Mari? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” He holds her securely, but shifts the girl so he can see her face. She’s pale, and she can barely keep her eyes open. What he’d assumed was shivering is more along the lines of trembling, her body shaking weakly.

Marinette only frowns, leaning against him. He can feel Plagg in his ring growing anxious. It’s time to get home.

“Hold on Bug, we’re heading back.” He clutches her against his chest and propels himself back toward the bakery.

When he arrives, he wastes no time slipping inside. Plagg detransforms on his own, rushing to Tikki who hasn’t moved from where Chat placed her on Marinette’s chest.

“Plagg, what’s going on?” Adrien can’t keep the tremor from his voice, doing his best to look after Marinette, but unsure what caused this.

The God has wrapped himself around his other half, holding her close. Adrien can tell he’s trying to sense it, so he just turns to his Bug.

Now that she’s laying down, he can see some bruises. While a fight like that would definitely cause damage (worse damage than just some bruises), the cure should have healed it, and her suit should have protected her to begin with.

She groans, rolling around on the bed slightly. Marinette isn’t asleep, but she hasn’t been fully awake since she cast the cure. She’s just in a halfway state between consciousness and unconsciousness. She’s so clearly in pain and it hurts him that he doesn’t know what caused this.

“It’s got to be a tendency,” Plagg guesses, “It’s got that signature feeling of damage around it. It’s not one I recognize though.”

Adrien stares at him. “What do you mean you don’t recognize it?”

Plagg shrugs. “I can’t think of anything that we’ve dealt with before that’s caused this. This is new.” Plagg’s tail lashes out behind him, and he only holds Tikki closer. Adrien didn’t know that Kwami’s could look pale.

If it’s a tendency, there’s not much they can do. Normally they’d have Tikki or Marinette heal something - at least partially - but well…

They’re indisposed.

If it gets bad enough, Wayzz might be able to do something, but not much. He’s more for preventing injuries, and of the Kwamis bound to a miraculous, Tikki is the healer.

---

Adrien doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but he wakes up to Marinette groaning softly in her sleep. She’s curled up into herself slightly, and her face is flushed. He reaches out, putting a hand to her forehead.

She leans into his cool touch, and he frowns at her clear fever.

She hasn’t gotten any better.

“We need to take them to Fu.” Plagg’s acid eyes glow in the dim room. Adrien nods, giving Plagg a moment to situate Tikki on her chosen before transforming. Even with Mari’s parents away, it’s not like he can carry some unconscious girl around the streets of Paris.

Chat Noir tenderly scoops the designer off of her bed, holding her tightly, but mindful of her bruises. Taking off across the rooftops, he takes the quickest route he can to the massage parlor.

He knocks, his tail thrashing anxiously. It isn’t Fu who answers, but rather Wayzz. The Kwami takes in the sight and gestures for them to enter. “I will get Master Fu.”

Chat knows he should thank him, but he can’t find any words at the moment. Something has settled in his gut and he can’t shake the sense of wrongness. This is bad, this is bad, this is bad-

He doesn’t even realize Plagg has detransformed to hold Tikki until the Guardian enters. “Adrien. This is a rather odd time of night for a visit, but I can see why you came. What happened?”

Both Wayzz and Fu seem extra concerned that Tikki is just as bad as Marinette.

“We don’t know. Plagg says it’s a tendency, but it’s a new one.”

“A new tendency? Even for Tikki?” Wayzz parrots. “That’s…”

Fu nods solemnly. “That is indeed concerning.”

“She was fine before the attack. I noticed that she seemed off slightly during the fight, and then afterwards she just fell over onto me. Tikki couldn’t even fly, she just dropped out of the air,” Adrien reports.

Fu’s eyes are closed, though he nods to show he’s listening. The man’s hands hover over the girl on the mat, likely trying to detect what’s wrong.

After a moment, he folds his hands in his laps and looks at Adrien. “If it is a tendency-”

“And it is,” Plagg cuts in.

“-then there’s not much I can do. You are already aware it would be for the best to stay close to her, so I do not need to tell you that. That said, we can heal the more minor things, the bruises mostly, and possibly assist in the fever, but given that we do not even know the root of the issue, I am sorry to say I cannot help much beyond that.”

Adrien nods.

Wayzz pipes in, “If they do not begin to improve after a few days, it would be for the best to return here.”

He nods again as Fu begins the healing ritual. It feels like an eternity, but Adrien can see the bruises fade and Marinette’s face seems a little less colored.

Her big eyes crack open slightly, staring around her, but not truly taking anything in. She babbles incoherently, and Adrien grips her hand.

She mumbles some more, and this time he can recognize the word ‘kitty’. He squeezes her hand, and she at least manages to turn in his general direction.

“I’m right here.”

She hums, her eyes slipping closed again. She’s not quite sleeping, but at least she’s made this very slight progress. He slips his arms underneath her to pick her up once more.

As he heads toward the door, he hears Fu call after him quietly, “Regardless of anything, please do let us know how she’s doing.”

Adrien nods, then whispers, “Claws Out.”

He can tell Marinette is still awake as he goes across the roofs. She’s whimpering at the cool air and squirming slightly.

“My Lady, I know you aren’t doing so great, but please stay still, at least until you’re back in bed.”

She doesn’t respond, but at least the bakery is in sight.

He places her down on the bed, detransforming so Plagg can care for Tikki.

“Okay, Bugaboo, it’s time to rest now, alright?”

She doesn't let go of him, and honestly, he doesn’t want to let go of her either.

---

Marinette squints as she wakes up, the light from her balcony shining in her eyes. She moves her hand to cover her face, grumbling to herself. At her movement, the boy beside her begins to stir.

When did they fall asleep? What happened?

She knows that there’d been an akuma attack, but for whatever reason she can’t remember what happened afterwards very clearly.

Adrien sits up, turning to her. He exhales when he sees her eyes are awake, smiling at her. “How you feelin’?”

“...sore? I guess? Tired?”

“What happened? Do you know when you noticed feeling off?”

She sits as well, frowning in thought.

Tikki pipes up, “The soap. It… weakened the suit.” Marinette nods.

Adrien’s eyes widen. “How? It shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“I don’t think it was normal soap, it kind of stung,” Marinette adds.

“You could have told me! I don’t want you to suffer in silence.”

She shrugs. “I figured it was just part of his powers. In hindsight, when I really started to feel those impacts against a wall I should have known something was wrong. You were fine? How did the soap not bother you?”

“It’s a new tendency,” Plagg says.

“With the soap?”

“We don’t really know?” Adrien admits. “I probably could have looked something up, but I was kind of panicking…”

Marinette frowns, looking around for her phone. She grabs it, and types into it quickly.

“‘Harsh soapy solutions may injure ladybugs at all life stages, but even gentle, common soap products kill beneficial ladybug larvae as surely as they kill harmful soft-bodied pests’” Marinette reads. “There’s such thing as insecticidal soap apparently… oh gosh it dissolves their cell membranes.”

“So it damaged the suit first.” Tikki realized. “Especially since you aren’t entirely a bug, it just weakened you in general.”

Adrien sighs in relief. He’d been worried it’d be so much worse. He could handle her being a little weaker for a little bit. He hugs her tightly.

She returns the hug, but he can feel her going limp after a little bit. He pulls away to look at her, and she smiles sheepishly. “‘m still tired, and you’re warm…”

“Then I’m going to have to order you to rest.” He teases.

“Wow. The cat wants to take a nap.” She rolls her eyes. “Who could have guessed it?”

“Hush.”

She harrumphs, but doesn’t attempt to escape the hug. She’s asleep again within a minute.

---

Author’s Note: Did you guys know insecticidal soaps were a thing? 'Cause I didn't. I'd assumed they were new enough that the Kwamis wouldn't have run into them before, but apparently they've been in use for 200 years, soooo.... to Kwamis that's barely anything, and it's not like they were out with a holder all the time, right? So like, let's assume they hadn't run into it before.

I just really like hurting Marinette, don't ask me why.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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inkstaineddove · 4 years

Text

Renewal

Characters: Prussia, Austria; mentioned Germany and Russia

Summary: After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Roderich invited Gilbert to Vienna in an attempt to clear the other man's mind and provide him with an opportunity to get outside. They catch up, knocking the rust off their strange relationship after not seeing each other for years.

Vienna, 1989.

Gilbert looked around, shifting in his seat nervously and absentmindedly folding and re-folding the sleeves on his shirt. How he loathed Vienna, loathed it and this ridiculous castle. Roderich’s tastes had always been too luxurious for his liking, the home decorated to be an ostentatious display of wealth and filled with antique furniture. It made him so uncomfortable, afraid that he might sneeze and be forced into debt to repay the cost of whatever he ruined.

His host returned, placing two wine glasses down before them. "Why so anxious?" Roderich didn't have to be focused on Gilbert to feel the wave of unease rolling of him. It also didn't help that he could hear the incessant tapping of Gilbert's foot, a nervous habit he'd had for years. "I would've expected you to be relieved to be out of your own country. Are we no longer good enough for you here?" His voice lilted up at the end of the sentence, gently teasing his guest.

"I hate this city. The people here have always been so snobbish. Your home looks like a poor man's idea of a rich man. It always has, it's excessive." Prussia waved a hand in a noncommittal way. "It's....everything's a lot."

As he took a long sip of his wine, Austria sighed. "Are you done?" The Prussian nodded. "I figured it would be nice for you to travel again, now that you could. I didn't think me rushing to Berlin would do you any good. You need to see what you missed of the world." It was his roundabout way of saying it meant a lot that Gilbert would visit him first.

"It's strange though. When you're in a cage for so long, you get used to it. In a certain way it even becomes comforting. The isolation almost becomes welcome or that you feel you deserved it." Prussia's eyes were burning with an indescribable emotion when they locked with Austria's. There was a flesh of desperation in them, gone as quickly as it appeared. "I can't help feeling that, in some way, I deserved it for everything. Monsters belong to be imprisoned."

That broke something in Roderich. He felt his heart throb with sympathy. He forced himself to keep the eye contact, despite wanting to look away in fear of giving away too much. "You're not a monster. And if you are, then so am I." He smiled faintly, trying to make them both feel better in vain. "All you've ever been is a bit boorish, but that's not a criminal offense."

They drank in silence. Both had been more vulnerable with the other than they'd wished. It was still too new, viewing each other as confidants and uneasy friends instead of the enemy. It felt even worse to consider them on opposing sides now, not after they'd shared so much and fought against much worse. How could they think of each other as evil when they finally knew what true evil was? It would feel like a dismissal of everything. No, they'd have to learn to get used to rhythms of this new stage in their relationship and whatever it would bring.

Roderich passively observed Gilbert. He'd never seen the man so unsure of himself. Normally Gilbert's ego suffocated the whole room. He moved in a way that commanded attention, that challenged the world to consent to his will or face the consequences of disobedience. This was not the same man. His emotions were impossible to decipher, walled off in a place deep within. His eyes kept darting around as if he was searching for the nearest escape.

Gilbert reached for his glass of wine. Roderich snatched his wrist midair. "My God, Gilbert. What happened?" Scars crisscrossed Gilbert's skin. Most appeared to finally be disappearing for good, but many remained.

"Relax, I didn't cause them." Gilbert jerked his hand away, hiding it beneath the table. "It's nothing for you to be concerned about. It's better I took a few more beatings than the others." He gave a toothy smile, trying to bring some normalcy to everything. "You're the one who said it's always what I've been good for."

A dark emotion passed across Roderich's face. A sickly feeling crept into his stomach. "I may have said so, but I never acted on it in such a way." It wasn't unusual for him to be so furious in Gilbert's presence, but it was for it to be on Gilbert's behalf. "What a barbarian. Where's the humanity? To act with such cruel disregard for other's and their sufferings? What a big man, I'm trembling." He scoffed. "To think he was the boogeyman we were all so terrified of for all these years. To be so fearful of a coward is dishonorable."

Such strong sentiments were shocking. For once in his life, Gilbert didn't know quite what to say. Unworthiness overwhelmed him. He bowed his head, staring at his hands as they played with the lace ends of the tablecloth. "You don't have to pretend to care so much. I appreciate the invitation enough as it is. Save me your mock outrage."

"You think I'm pretending?"

"Did I stutter?" It was the most Gilbert-esque thing he'd said all day. In any other conversation, it would've been a revelation.

Roderich rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. How to get it through such a thick skull? "I understand that our relationship hasn't always been on the best of terms, to put it incredibly mildly. But you have to be a bigger idiot than I ever thought possible to not realize my feelings on you have changed." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Really, Gilbert, actually think about this. After my divorce, against every possible logical expectation, you were the only one to check on me. Not only once, you made a point of visiting every month to harass me and give me some semblance of normalcy. And you never mentioned whatever it was you were doing with Erzsébet! It was the most oddly comforting thing and, to my horror, I began looking forward to seeing you." He rolled his eyes. "Let's not even mention the last war. We were thick as thieves then, running off and getting into whatever mischief was necessary."

"You only worked with me then because you had to." Gilbert remained glum, but didn’t dare to look at Roderich squarely to prevent being proved wrong.

"Oh, please. Bavaria and Saxony shot down our offer, I could've done the same to you had I wanted to. But I didn't because I trusted your judgement and wanted in on your little scheme. And I don't regret that to this day, regardless of whatever the personal costs may have been." Roderich smiled and it reached his eyes. "Whenever I had the misfortune of meeting Iv-Russia," he stopped himself, refusing to use Russia's personal name out of principle. "I would hound him by constantly asking after you. How you're doing, were you holding up well, urging him to pass on messages to you from Ludwig and me. I would do the same on Erzsébet's behalf, but you were the focus. I had visions of you trying to be her savior and winding up in an even worse position."

Gilbert bit his lip, wearing an incredibly guilty look. "How did you guess?"

“Because I know you! Every time we'd sign a new treaty or agreement, you'd be begging me to make her life better. It got to the point where I was telling my advisors to throw in an expansion of Hungarian rights before we even began negotiations.” Roderich rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that behavior would've ceased, especially under rulers with a much crueler bent? Though I appreciate that it must surely make my monarchs look so kindly and benevolent.”

There was no point in even touching that last part. Especially when Austria would have ample examples of Hohenzollern excesses to throw in Prussia's face. Instead, he focused on how touched he felt over everything. Things really had changed for them, the tables had turned so completely. A warmth spread throughout Gilbert's chest. “I had no idea you asked about me.”

“I suspected you didn't. I have no idea why Russia would be so reluctant to pass on anything to you two. We weren't trying to spread Western propaganda, or whatever he would be concerned for. The only goal was to let you both know your family still loved and missed you gravely.”

“He wanted us to be one big, happy family. To do that, for some fucked up reason, he felt like he had to constantly tell us that no one on the outside cared in order to break us down. It really got to those who only had friends on the inside regardless of whatever Erzsi or I said to them.” Gilbert shrugged, nonchalantly. Out of everything that happened behind the wall, this facet concerned him least. Its effects on him had been minimal. He couldn't believe Ludwig, no matter the bad terms they parted on, would disown Gilbert and leave him to the wolves. The kid had always been loyal to a fault. “Wait, you missed me? And consider me family?”

The vein in Roderich's forehead began throbbing. “Why is this so difficult for you to understand?’ Grumbling, he hurried off and returned with a pen and piece of paper. “I'm going to make this very simple and I'm going to speak slowly so you understand. Look me in the eyes, if you misunderstand a word of this, I'm going to hit you." Once they made eye contact, Roderich continued. “Our relationship has changed, meaning things are different now. I regard you, Gilbert, as not only one of my closest friends, but as family. And not merely the most distant of cousins either, close family, the type of family you wish to spend time around and worry for when appropriate.” He quickly wrote something on the paper before sliding it over the table. "Here. Try carrying this around with you in case you forget again."

Gilbert picked it up. It read ‚Roderich und ich sind Familie.’ He folded it and tucked it into his wallet, unable to stop himself from smiling. Perhaps his existence wasn’t so pointless, perhaps there was some meaning to be gleaned from his life. "You're actually a good guy. A really good guy. I wish I'd realized it sooner." His heart felt so full it could burst.

It was Roderich's turn to be caught off-guard. He looked away, studying the Schwind that hung on the opposite wall. “‘Good’ is not a classification I would accept so willingly. At the risk of sounding too Catholic even for myself, we've all committed sin. I'm simply trying to learn from mine, even if it's a bit late in some cases.” His lips turned the slightest bit upward. “But I do appreciate the compliment.”

"You realized it sooner than everyone else we know." Gilbert sipped his wine, needing something to do with his hands. "Don't be so hard on yourself. That has to count for something." A coy smile slipped through. "Besides, I know you hid people in your homes throughout the war. You shouldn't look so surprised; you were always asking me to help you stock up on food and clothes and you suddenly had new servants here. What other explanation could there have been?"

Despite all the time that had passed, the acknowledgement of his deed caused Roderich's heart to race. The instinctual fear at getting caught took over, regardless of there being an absence of authorities who would arrest him for it. "Well, I knew many of the upcoming Viennese artists and musicians then. It seemed...such a waste of incredible talent and life." He paused, the memories coming in vivid technicolor. "Anyone would've done the same."

"You know that's not true."

There was a point there. "I wanted to at least sound humble, regardless of whether it reflected reality accurately." He folded his hands in his lap. This was something he'd never discussed before; it was a secret he'd kept close to his heart first out of a survival instinct and later out of a desire to not be viewed in a heroic light. "You yourself noted how my last name could be perceived, as had various Jewish communities here. Over the years I'd warmed up to them and begun to count many of them as friends, those especially who easily shrugged off or accepted the nature of our existence. To turn on them in their greatest hour of need seemed to me to be beyond reprehensible. I had grown close to many of them, been invited into their homes, to witness their births, deaths, and marriages. You'll understand more than anyone else that, for my own peace of mind, I had to do what was right."

Gilbert had listened in silence. The coy little smirk never left his face. “The ice king does have a heart.” At Roderich's bewildered expression, Gilbert barked out a laugh. “Relax! I'm only kidding! You're looking at me as if I just shot your dog!” He wiped a wayward tear out the corner of his eye. “What can I say? I'm not surprised by any of this. Despite your best efforts, you're not heartless. A couple centuries ago, I could see you ignoring everything and letting the chips fall where they may, but not now. You figured out that having a little humanity isn't so bad.”

Now, that was insulting. Roderich harrumphed. “You say it’s a joke, but must you make me sound like a being incapable of the most basic of emotions?” He folded his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes in the process. Oddly enough, the prickle of irritation felt comforting. Over Gilbert’s long absence, Roderich had naturally felt annoyed at others plenty of times. But being aggrieved over America’s brashness or Arthur’s arrogance or Francis’ smugness didn’t feel quite the same. Being irritated at Gilbert came as easily as breathing air, felt like the comfort of sheets against you at night. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it till this very moment.

Apparently, his face was giving it away. “What are you staring at me like that for?” Gilbert’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did I suddenly grow a third eye or something?”

“‘Or something’ for sure.” The corners of Roderich’s lips softened into an easy smile. “It’s nice to have you home, that’s all. It seems I really did miss you.”

Gilbert grinned, his most natural one yet of the evening. “I’m back forever now. There’s no more getting rid of me. From now on, you’ll be stuck with me till the end of eternity.”

“Threatening me so soon?” Roderich brought his wine glass to his lips, smiling. Against all odds, he was looking forward to the rest of eternity.

#aph prussia #aph austria #hws prussia #hws austria #hetalia #Axis Powers Hetalia #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfiction #aph fanfiction #hws fanfic #aph fanfic

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drops-of-moonlights · 4 years

Text

Confrontation, A Winx Redux AU short

Roughly 2k words, kinda hurt/confort... I think. Stella, Riven, a diner, and the aftermath of the incident at Red Fountain’s Academic Showcase. (AO3)

It was 9PM, she was definitely breaking curfew, and Griselda will definitely give her the earful of her life when she gets back, but she didn’t care enough right now. Not after what happened at the Academic Showcase two days ago.

Bloom has only come out of her room to grab some food occasionally and she still doesn’t want to talk, and from what Brandon told her Sky is in more or less the same situation. She didn’t even want to imagine how Diaspro was feeling - she saw the reluctance in her speech on the news earlier that day and she was glad the redhead hadn’t seen it yet. She looked at the map on her phone to see if she was in the right direction, and finally arrived at the small diner she was heading to, recognizing the black motorcycle parked near the entrance. It was decently filled and the aroma of food was certainly promising, and that meant that she would not be noticed, even if her unusual dark clothes helped her blend in regardless. She started looking for a specific booth until she saw him.

“Hey, Riven” - she said with a familiar affection, even if the tone was pretty monotone - she was not in the best of moods. He seemed to be the same, if his expression was to be considered. “Hey yourself, Stella.”

She sat down opposite from him, and after quietly ordering their food they remained like that, Riven looking at her and she looking at the window absentmindedly, or at least she hoped that’s how she looked like. The silence finally broke with a question.

“So, was that why you asked me to not speak with you at all last year? The whole switch thing?” His tone sounded slightly hurt, but it was mostly just genuine curiosity. So he’s mad but not super mad, Stella thought to herself, so hopefully I can explain it without much issue. “More or less, yes.” She finally looked at him, and realized it might be more than just “mad”.

His eyes were very red, and while he tried to hide it a bit with that scowl, it was clear he had cried a bit. He was always bad with holding back tears.

“So for an entire year, I couldn’t hang with one of my best friends because of just some weirdass switch between a prince and his squire? For some marriage arrangement or whatever that shit was? Why the fuck did you even have to do with all that?!” He kept the tone low since they were in public, but it was clear he was hurting. From what she heard of what happened last year, she’s not surprised - and she really wished she had been there for him that time.

“More or less, yes”, she said again, before elaborating. “I was tasked to help with the cover of Prince Sky due to Eraklyon and Solaria’s ties, and as such anyone close to me that was not related to the Courts of Solaria or Eraklyon had to be cut off until it was deemed safe for Sky to reveal his identity”, she said, fully knowing how stupid that entire thing was. Erendor was being paranoid again and Samara only helped make that fear bigger, Sky knew how to use a sword and Brandon was always with him, he wasn’t in that much danger. She was happy her father agreed with her, but his hands were tied and the council accepted Eraklyon’s terms. She hated politics so much sometimes.

“So for an entire year, a year where I had one of the worst experiences of my life, a year I almost got expelled from Red Fountain, I could not talk with you, or even be near you, just because of some dumb royals deciding that you shouldn’t do all that?! For some dude?!” He wasn’t shouting yet, but he was getting close to. Her mind was telling her that she should try to calm him down, but her emotions acted first, her face twisting into a scowl matching his.

“Right, because I didn’t suffer anything at all that year no siree, not like I had to break up with my boyfriend for all this bullshit, not like I had to go through my parent’s divorce, not like I didn’t get actually fucking expelled from Alfea in the middle of the year for some dumb accident. No, only you suffered at all. Of course”, she practically hissed the last words, anger starting to overcome her. Riven looked ready to start actually yelling, but he stopped and had a deep breath. “Okay, fine. We both went through some shit, sorry I pretended you didn’t went through bad things. I mean that.” He did sound sincere and his expression had softened. She took a deep breath herself, and tried to see how to continue as their food got served. This was not how she expected their first conversation in a year and a half to go like this.

“Thank you for apologizing. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have made it seem like what you went through was nothing.” she started eating some of the steak they had ordered - nice consistency, though it could use more spices - before continuing. “I heard the rumors. That had to be hell on you.”

Riven took a bite himself, and looked out the window into the streets of Magica City. “It was, though I’m happy I didn’t get fully expelled and got the chance to stay at Red Fountain. My mother was between furious and ultra comforting when she found out,” he let out a small, sad chuckle at the memory before turning, “but that’s not what we’re here to talk about, Cami.” He finally looked her directly in the eye, and she was genuinely surprised at both her nickname and the topic change. “How are you taking all this?”

“Well, if Musa ever talks to me again even if it’s just insults I’ll be glad”, she looked down at her steak again, a sad look on her face. “It feels like she took it worse than Bloom and she wasn’t even involved. Tecna’s been mostly checking up on Bloom every hour to see if she’s starting to get better with Flora, and Aisha’s both understanding of why all this happened and also wanting to punch Sky and Erendor in the face.” She thought of that for a little longer, and the mental image made her giggle a bit. “As for myself… well, it’s good that I can no longer have to keep that hidden. On the other hand,” she looked out the window again”, I might have lost Bloom as a friend forever.” She still had the fire fairy’s scream fresh in her mind, of how she was a liar, a bad friend, of how she could have prevented her all this by telling her. She didn’t tell herself that it was her fault, but she still had part on it and she couldn’t deny that. “You?”, she returned the question, despite having already heard the answer. “How are you taking all this, especially with… well, with the Darcy thing also happening.”

It had been a week or so since the Trix’s identities had been revealed, and from what she knew the Roccaluce Paladins had been searching for Icy, Darcy and Stormy for all that time. She knew thanks to Musa that he had become good friends with the Solarian Witch, and all this on top certainly would not have helped. “Well, this didn’t help with that I can tell you that much,” called it, “but I feel at least this made me forget about that if only for a little bit.”, he looked back at her, sadness starting to lift from his head. “I still think this was completely stupid-” “it was, trust me”, she interrupted, “-but politics are like that from what I remember you telling me. So I guess I’m fine with it… for now”, he falsely threatened in that annoying fake tough guy tone of his, and she let out a small laugh at that familiarity. “I will see if this can hold up.”

“Thank you for that, Riven. It’s nice that we can finally talk again.” She reached out and held his hand, a genuine smile forming. “I missed this.”

“I missed it too, Cami”, he held the same smile, and they both finally started eating in full, catching up on lost time.

----

They had just finished eating, and they were waiting for the bill, when Stella asked some final questions. “Hey, have you kept in touch with the guys at all?”, a memory coming back to her forgotten in the previous talks. “Because last thing I heard is that you straight up disappeared after the Showcase.” Brandon had called her earlier that day to update her on things on his end, and he had admitted on not having seen Riven at all since then. He in turn sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, hints of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Uh, I… kinda went to sulk on the city for two straight days and I might or might not have tried to look for Darcy myself.” Stella immediately put her hand on her forehead, exasperated. “Of course you did. You were always bad with this type of stuff.” She looked back at him concerned. “You should go back already, you dumbass! Sky is being enough of a hassle as is, you don’t need to add to their worrying.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I really should, I honestly just called you on impulse and… kinda went from there.” You’re always like that, Riven, she thought for a second. “I’m going to see if I can help coax Sky out of his blanket fort, he owes us his side of the story as well, and I’ll see if I can convince him to talk to Bloom for you.”

“If you manage that I’ll be impressed, he’s almost as stubborn as you are,” she said with a cheeky smile, before turning it into a real one. “But thanks, Riven. I’m happy we did this.”

“I’m happy about it too, Cami. I’m still with my bike, you want a ride back to Alfea?” “I would appreciate that, cuz I kiiiiiiiiiinda wasted the Sceptre’s reserves on getting to the city.” It was Riven’s turn to smirk. “And you call me impulsive?”

“Oh shut up.” Her tone was angry, but she was smiling, and she felt like things were finally looking better for her.

#Winx Club #Winx Redux AU #Stella #Riven #Drops writes apparently

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kaoru-takaida · 4 years

Text

Lost In Translation Fanfiction

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters mentioned or portrayed in this fanfiction. (Except for “E”.) Please support Jjolee and their amazing works including the Lost In Translation Webtoon on the Webtoon app and follow them on their social media. Thank you.

Chapter One: The Wyld Incident...

Jaewon yawns and opens his eyes, rolling over in his bed. It’s been a week and the anonymous texter hasn’t responded to his “Who are you?” text he sent after the short picture message that was sent to him. He looks at his cellphone and sighs, not seeing the unknown number in any of his recent texts. Jaewon sits up, standing straight. He raises his hands yawning again and stretching. As he does, there’s a ding from his cellphone, as if on cue. Jaewon chokes, stopping mid-stretch. He quickly slides over to the side of his bed and eagerly opens the new text message. Low and behold, it was from the same number. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond right away. You must have been anxious.” Jaewon cocks an eyebrow. They were worried about him? They weren’t some stalker, were they? “I’m sure you want an answer, but I can’t tell you who I am or how I know everything I do.”

Jaewon scowls. “Why?” He texts back. “How did you get that photo? And why tell me you have it?”

Elsewhere, a mysterious hooded person frowns. They look up at their computer. They begin typing. “As to how I got the photo. I can’t tell you.” Jaewon tsks seeing this. When his phone dings again he glances down and his jaw drops. “But I’m telling you because I want to help you. Like you helped me.” Jaewon’s eyes lit up… He helped this person at one point? He rubs his head, tussling his deep red hair, puzzled at who this could be. “I promise to try my hardest to help you out of this without making Mayhem suffer.” Jaewon gasps. He stares at the message in awe. An admiration crept in him over that message. That was all he cared about in this. The reason he was worried about this person knowing the truth. He purses his eyebrows.

“What’s your name?” He texts them.

The person messaging back inhales sharply. It was so tempting to tell Jaewon everything. Why they were doing this. What their name is. What Jaewon means to them. They exhale a long breath and begin typing. "Call me E."

Jaewon cocks an eyebrow at the letter name. "'E'🤨??" He texts back. "But I need more than a letter…" He says aloud. He doesn't type it and instead, texts something back. "What's your favorite animal?"

E stands straight and stares at the monitor. "Huuuuuh?!" "My favorite animal? Why?"

"Just tell me."

They tsk before typing in their answer. "Don't laugh. My favorite animal is a mouse." Jaewon smiles before laughing a little.

"Mouse, huh?" He says to himself. He texts back. "Mice are cool.😎"

"You laughed, didn't you?😑"

"Yeah. A little,😁 lol." He then clicks on the cellphone number. He taps "save as contact" and he saves the contact as "E🐭". He screenshots it and sends it to E. He doesn't know why, but he felt he could really trust them. Although he desperately wonders why they're bothering to even help him. Jaewon hears the phone ding.

"Lol I like it." Jaewon smiles.

E smiles now, too. They sigh and then scowl, flipping tabs on their monitor screen and pulling up a CCTV view. It's inside High Class Entertainment HQ. And in the CEO's office no less. (Mr. Park… )They think to themselves. (You'll get what's coming to you… I swear it.)

The next day…

E stares at the photo on Twitter. (This picture… was taken inside Jaewon's apartment! How?!) They swallow hard, tabbing out and opening up Twitter. They click on the profile. It's set to private. Of course. E searches for more results on the internet. There was nothing. Just the many pictures of Jaewon as Wyld, fancams, and Wyld focus videos at Mayhem's concerts. They pull up their Messenger. “Jaewon, that picture is suspicious.” E texts. “Please text me.” An hour passes and E grows restless. "Jaewon, are you ok?" There's no response. E frowns. Another hour passes. "Hello? Jaewon?"

E readjusts the black medical face mask on their face, fussing with their hood. They watch as D.Min helps Jaewon into a sleek black car. No doubt belonging to Kang Dongho himself. A patrol officer is there, seeing them off. As D. Min gets into the car, the officer waves. When the car pulls out of sight, E strides up to catch the officer.

He was about to enter his vehicle when he noticed E. "Woah! I have a friend who lives in this building. What happened here?" E asks. The patrol officer cocks an eyebrow at E.

He glances at the young lady, handcuffed in the back of his cruiser, sobbing. "Wyld~~~!" She shrills. E scowls, pulling the face mask from their face. When the officer sees this, he softens his expression.

"A piece of work, this one. She broke in and kidnapped one of the tenants here." He says. "I can't tell you the full details. But if I were you, I'd make sure your friend is safe.” E’s eyes widen. “Make sure you tell your friend to be more careful from now on.” E gives a slight bow. “Thank you, officer.” When the cruiser drives away, E looks over to the doorway of the apartment complex. E walks over to the door of the apartment complex. They look around to make sure no one was around, before dialing the code in. The door unlocks. E opens the door and walks in.

Jaewon sighs, slumping down into the covers D.Min lent him. He frowns, turning on his side and hugging his pillow. He then glances at his cell phone. “That’s right…” He says to himself. “I turned it off after everything that stuff happened…” He hits the power button. After a few seconds, the phone lights up. And as soon as it does, the multiple dings scare him. He swipes the phone open and sees how many messages he has from a certain someone. “What?! Fifteen text messages?!” He scrolls through the texts with a surprised expression stuck to his face.

“Jaewon, that picture is suspicious.”

“Please text me.”

“Jaewon, are you ok?”

“Hello? Jaewon?”

“Pls tell me ur ok!”

“Jaewon. Someone might be in your apartment!”

“Pls txt me!”

Jaewon blinks wide eyed at the concerned messages. Then the final text makes him sit up quickly. “What the-?!”

He stares at the text. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek. “I’m on my way over! Please be okay!” E was on their way over?! But this was an hour ago… They could be gone by now. Jaewon looks around to see if D.Min or his butler was anywhere near. He swallows hard before inhaling sharply. “E. I’m okay now. I’m sorry I didn’t see your texts.”

E sighs a big sigh in relief, walking home. They lean against the wall of a building. The worry melts into relief and they slide down the wall to squat a little, texting back. “OMG! THANK GOD AND ANY OTHER GODS THAT EXIST!” They text back in all caps. “Jaewon, are you hurt?! Nothing happened, did it?” Jaewon felt his breath catch in his throat. The thought of what happened makes his heart beat faster. His body trembles and he purses his eyebrows. E takes the silence as a bad sign. “You don’t have to tell me.” Jaewon is surprised at that. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”

Jaewon stifles a trembling inhale. “Me too.” Jaewon texts back. “Can I call you?” E chokes. They stare at the message. (He… wants to call me?) E begins to text. Before they could respond with their response of “not a good idea” the cell phone dings again. “Please?” E closes their eyes. They sigh and open up an application on their phone. They click on Jaewon’s number and swipe “call”.

Jaewon hears the cell phone ring and quickly answers. “Ah… hello?”

There was a long silence that made Jaewon a bit anxious. And then… “J-Jaewon…” Jaewon’s eyes widen a little. He felt a familiarity in the voice. He swears he’s heard this voice before. “Are you… sure you’re okay?” Jaewon chokes a bit, a trembling sob slipping from his lips.

“N-No…” He says, tears welling into his eyes. He’d tried to hold it back. But hearing someone else other than D.Min ask him that after everything had happened… It made him overflow with emotion. E gasps at the sound of Jaewon’s sniffles. “I… was so scared…” E frowns and purses their eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that…”

“I…” He sobs quietly, trying to avoid having D.Min or his butler hear. But E can still hear him. “I’m sorry.”

E sits down on the pavement. “Why are you apologizing, Jaewon?”

He wipes his eyes gently with his hoodie’s sleeve. “I don’t know.” Jaewon says.They both don’t say anything for a few moments while Jaewon collects himself. “There was a fan that found their way into my apartment.” E scowls. (WHAT?! That’s crazy!) E thinks. “She put a tracker in a gift she gave me at one of Mayhem’s Fansignings to find out where I live. And then she installed a camera to get the keycode to my apartment.” Jaewon hears E breathing unsteady on the other side. (I should have known this could happen.) “She ambushed me and tied me up threatening me with a knife from the kitchen.” E closes their eyes.

“I’m sorry that happened.” E says. Jaewan can tell the voice was familiar, but can’t place whether the voice was male or female. The voice was very androgynous, and despite Jaewon trying to focus on their tones, he can’t place the voice with a gender or a face. But he knew without a doubt he’d heard this voice before. But where? (At a fansigning or meet and greet for Mayhem? I can’t be sure… )“I… will try to prevent that from happening again…” Jaewon scowls a bit.

“Because you know where I live, right?” Jaewon asks. E freezes and can’t help but feel a bit nervous. How is Jaewon reacting to this? Was he mad? Skeptical? Suspicious? E stammers a bit. Jaewon sighs, letting it go for now. Call it exhaustion, or just his gut feeling that E wasn’t a threat, but he didn’t feel like pursuing this any further at the moment. “Are you still there?”

E stands up from their seat on the pavement. “Ah… no.” E replies. “I-I’m not. But I promise I didn’t go into your apartment. I just wanted to see if it was secure.”

“It’s fine.” Jaewon says. He pauses now. “E, can I ask you something?”

“Mm?”

“Why won’t you call me Wyld?” Jaewon asks. E bites their lip a little, tempted to answer. “You’ve only ever called me by my real name. You never use my Stage name. Why?” E doesn’t say anything. But Jaewon still waits for an answer. When E doesn’t answer Jaewon sighs again. “I get it… You can’t answer.” E looks down at their sneakers. Jaewon smiles, though he knows they can’t see it. “Please, be safe…”

E chuckles. “I should be saying that to you, Jaewon.” E says, fussing with their hood. Jaewon ends the call. He tiredly slumps back into the covers. He hugs the pillow next to him and wraps himself in the comforter. He scowls, frowning. He buries his face into the pillow his head was on and tries to sleep. Just around the corner, leaning against the wall of the hallway outside, D.Min puts a hand to his chin, deep in thought.

He’d heard the entire conversation… (Wyld can’t go back to his apartment. Not with everything that had happened.) D.Min thinks. (But… who was this “E” he was talking with just now? Do they know about what happened? They seem to know a great deal about him and then some.) D.Min cocks an eyebrow, peeking into the room through the doorway to see Wyld finally falling asleep. The most D.Min can see is his bright red hair poking from beneath the soft heap of comforter. It rises and falls slowly, relaxed with Wyld’s breathing. (Is it possible E knows all about the scandals he told me were “misunderstandings”? Are they trying to help him?) D.Min crosses his arms, a scowl on his brows. (Or are they just pretending so they can get close to him?)

Author’s Note:

Hi hi, lovelies! So I know it’s taken a while. But with COVID-19 and my lack of work and rollercoaster health concerns, I hope you all understand. So I took extra care to make sure this chapter was airtight and nicely done.

First things first, about this mysterious “E”, I am addressing them as “they” to keep the identity a secret. They are the original character I’ve hinted at previously and there will be more information about this character in the coming chapters. You’ll be learning about this character as the other characters do. I won’t be giving any hints or answers on said character. But if there are questions about this fanfiction anyone has, just let me know in the comments and I will work on answering them the best I can. I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to my future chapters ^.^

Jjolee’s twitter: https://twitter.com/_jjolee

Lost In Translation Webtoon: https://www.webtoons.com/en/drama/lost-in-translation/list?title_no=1882

#d.min #lost in translation webtoon #lost in translation webtoon fanfiction #mayhem wyld #mayhem minsoo #mayhem daehyun #mayhem d.min #mayhem jaewan #kang dongho #lee minsoo #kim daehyun

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fraybaness · 5 years

Text

something that’s not there anymore

ao3

nobody needs to know that magnus isn’t fine (post-3a)

There are moments where he forgets.

The first few seconds after waking up in the morning. When he's too distracted by what he's reading or who he's kissing. Times when he's too sleepy to get up to turn off the lights.

In those moments, he'll raise his arm - not too high, just to his shoulder level - and reach for something that should be there. Something that's always been there.

Then it all hits him, suddenly and in agonizing detail: the fire, the deal with the devil, the feeling of everything he'd learned not to hate about himself being ripped away from him, leaving him bare and empty and vulnerable. Then his father's magic, too much for anyone. Far too much for a mortal body. Then Alexander's blood on his hands, and Catarina's furrowed brows, and Luke's haunted face when he came to Magnus begging for help only to be turned away, and Maryse holding back tears at Alec's bedside, the silence between them loaded with things they both should have said out loud.

When this happens, Magnus can usually process it quickly. Okay , he tells himself. So you don't have magic anymore. You're not a warlock anymore. You're not immortal anymore. There are worse things in this world. And there are, so he quickly wipes any trace of sadness or unease from his face and carries on with what he's doing. Grabs the sugar himself. Gets out of bed to turn off the light. Stops trying to draw out his magic.

Other times it's not so easy, and more than once he's jolted awake in the middle of the night and only been able to sleep again after he's cried his heart out, face pressed into his pillow to muffle the noise. This is always done in secret, because he's fine, really , and nobody needs to worry and nobody needs to know that he's not.

The only person he cries in front of is Catarina, that first night. She's just finished healing Alec and managed to get Magnus to leave his bedside for a minute to eat and drink something. It’s there, under the bright lights of her kitchen as she urges him to take off his bloodied coat that it all really sinks in for the first time. He collapses. She sits on the floor beside him and asks him what's going on. He tells her. Or, he tries to, but at some point he just starts crying, and she holds him until he's too tired to cry anymore.

Everybody tries to get him to talk , of course. Isabelle, who shows up with terrible homemade muffins and dark circles under her eyes, tells him she's there no matter what, and he can always talk to her. Maryse, who ushers him into the living room and pulls him into her arms once she's satisfied that Alec will be okay, whispers that she doesn't know what's going on, but whatever it is, he can talk to her about it. Raphael, who calls from three states away saying that he heard, and he's on his way, and he's so, so sorry, makes sure to remind Magnus to call if he needs anything or just wants to talk . Even Jace starts his brief but heartfelt apology with, can we talk?

Magnus really doesn't feel like talking.

He tells Alec exactly that one night a few days after the fact, when they're lounging on opposite sides of the couch, their legs touching, reading different books, trying to distract themselves from all the things going on in the world. He's been feeling Alec's eyes on him all evening, and the second Alec opened his mouth he knew what he was going to say. So before Alec can say anything, Magnus says, “I don't want to talk about it.”

Alec hesitates. “You will,” he says after a moment, “and I’ll be here when you do.”

Magnus has to admit, Alec’s quiet but constant support does make things slightly easier - which is a relief, because nothing has been easy these days: His makeup takes an hour longer to put on. He has to drive places since he can't make portals anymore. He keeps misplacing his apartment keys or forgetting to lock the door. He gets drunk now - worse, he gets hungover . And considering he's not a Downworlder anymore, he doesn't really know what to do with Pandemonium. Everything’s a mess.

And then, just as Alec fully recovers and gets the OK to go back to work, things get even harder: Magnus catches a cold. And for the first few hours he's very concerned, because he hasn't gotten sick in about two hundred years - and he's certainly never had the common cold before. Once he realizes he's not about to drop dead, he just becomes frustrated.

Alec brings him chicken soup and orange juice at Maia's suggestion.

“Thank you, darling,” Magnus says, voice unfamiliar from the stuffy nose and hours of coughing himself hoarse. When Alec bends down to kiss him on the forehead, Magnus moves abruptly out of the way. “No, you'll get sick too!”

“I'll be fine,” Alec assures him. He tries the kiss again but Magnus dodges him once more.

“Also, I'm disgusting.”

“As if,” Alec scoffs, and finally gets the damn kiss that he wanted so badly. He turns his attention on the soup and brings up hot spoonful to Magnus' lips, holding a napkin underneath with his other hand to prevent spills. Magnus has never been more in love with him.

It turns out that Alec is a wonderful nurse. He brings Magnus food and medicine, makes him tea, rubs his shoulders, even buys a humidifier for the bedroom. On top of that, he doesn't seem at all bothered by the constant sneezing and occasional vomiting. He even works from home two days in a row so he can keep Magnus company. They spend so much time together that Magnus runs out of "sexy nurse" jokes by the end of the first day. He decides to instead occupy his time by looking through job listings and typing out a resume, but with his splitting headache and frustration at trying to list his qualifications in a human way, he doesn’t get very far.

When he's feeling better, Alec takes him out on a date. They have to take a taxi there, which throws Magnus off a little at first, but it's a nice Chinese restaurant with romantic lighting and prices just high enough to make Alec's insistence on paying the bill sweet as opposed to idiotic. They eat and drink (water - they drink water because Magnus is still a bit sick and doesn't understand his own alcohol tolerance anymore) and hold hands across the table and tip the waiter two-hundred dollars because it's dinner rush and she's trying her best.

“You wanna take a walk?” Alec asks once they're outside, bundled up against the chilly - but not yet quite cold - weather. Magnus nods and they begin to walk hand-in-hand down the street.

“Thank you for dinner,” Magnus says. “Next one's on me.”

Alec shakes his head fondly. “No one's keeping score. I just felt like doing something nice for you since you've been cooped up at home for so long.”

Magnus squeezes Alec's hand with his own as he takes a deep breath, taking in lungfuls of the fresh, crisp night air. The walk is long and eventually Alec calls a taxi anyway, but the half hour stretching their legs in open air does wonders for their mood.

Back at the loft, Magnus makes tea and has Alec join him on the couch on the balcony. Alec wraps a blanket around the both of them and they both sit there in silence for a long while, sipping tea and watching the stars.

“I love you,” Alec says out of nowhere. Magnus doesn't mind. It feels like the right thing to say and the right thing to hear.

“I love you, too,” Magnus says.

“I know,” Alec leans in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “And I'm really sorry.”

“About what, darling?”

He can hear Alec swallow thickly beside him. “Your magic.”

“Alexander-”

“I know you said you didn't wanna talk about it yet, but… come on , Magnus. It’s been over a week and you’ve refused to talk to anyone .”

“That’s not true,” Magnus lies.

“I talked to Catarina,” Alec says. “And if you’re not talking to her, and you’re not talking to me, and you’re not seeing a therapist-”

“I don’t need a-”

“-then that means you’re just bottling things up again.”

Damn him - he knows Magnus too well.

“If you need time to process, I understand,” Alec goes on. “But at least let me apologize.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Magnus starts to say, but Alec holds up a finger to his lips to silence him. Magnus gives him an unamused look but respectfully lets him continue.

Alec takes a deep breath. “I- I just want you to know that I love you more than anything. And the thought of you suffering because of something that I could've prevented is... it's killing me. But nothing hurts more than you hiding from me. So, please, don’t put on a facade for my sake or anyone else’s.”

Magnus takes a moment to let the words sink in. He doesn't quite know how to feel about that. He feels a little lost, a little ashamed at not having noticed Alec felt this way, and some semblance of anger deep in his subconscious because it’s not for your sake .

But mostly he just wants to fix this because he knows firsthand how damaging guilt can be.

He places a hand on top of Alec’s under the blanket and turns to him. "I made a choice in Edom,” he says quietly. “And, yes, it was because of you - but so what? I think I have made it clear by now that I would do anything for you, Alexander, and never regret it. Can you trust me on that?"

Alec nods.

"Good," Magnus smiles. "Now, I've come to realize that life is a gift and our time on earth that is not spent healing from stab wounds or throwing up into a toilet is very limited, so don't waste another second of it feeding your guilt. We're both alive, we're both here, and we should make the most of that. Yeah?”

Alec has started tearing up, but they're not sad tears. He quickly blinks them away. Magnus cups his face and kisses him before wrapping his arms around Alec and going back to stargazing. He meant every word he said. He just didn't mention the underlying fear and bitterness that accompanied his optimistic worldview.

A week or two later, Magnus is still trying to get used to living without magic. He's started googling things religiously. And thankfully it seems he's not the only person out there who needs a step-by-step guide on how to do the simplest mundane things like call a cab or use a dishwasher or buy condoms.

Simon’s a big help, too, with the mundane stuff, and Raphael when he finally comes back to town. Magnus wants to ask Luke how he and Jocelyn adjusted to being out of the Shadow World, but Luke has stopped coming over and calling and joining the others on missions. Simon, on the other hand, seems happy for a chance to make himself useful and has taken to shadowing Magnus like he used to shadow Clary.

It’s all very depressing, really. Magnus wonders if there is a WikiHow article on helping all your friends deal with their respective traumas.

“Uber Eats: mankind’s best invention,” Magnus announces one evening, pressing “track order” and settling into Alec’s side on the couch in front of the TV.

“Yesterday, you said that was Netflix,” Alec says, wrapping an arm around Magnus’ shoulder. “And the day before that, waterproof mascara.”

“And I meant it every time.”

“Hmm. Do you wanna get married?”

If Magnus was eating or drinking something, he would be dead now from how violently he chokes at those words. “ What ?”

“Not right now,” Alec says quickly, as if that’s supposed to make it any less shocking. “But...in the future. Do you see us getting married?”

“I… well, I haven’t really thought about it…” That’s a lie. Magnus has thought about it plenty. But always in a fantastical sense - it has never felt within the realm of possibility, not with Alec and not with anyone. Not ever for Magnus. He can’t even list all the reasons why anymore. At some point it’s just started to feel like one of the sad truths of life. “Why do you ask?”

Alec shrugs. “Just thinking about the future.”

Magnus briefly and bitterly thinks about making a comment about how Alec must be loving this, not having to worry about being forgotten or replaced or turned into a memento in a box. But that’s just cruel and - probably - hopefully - not true, so Magnus stays quiet.

Instead he says, “I don’t know, I’ve never really had a bucket list or anything. Maybe I should make one and add that?” It’s a subtle hint, but Magnus hopes Alec understands what he’s trying to say: Not the fucking time or place, babe.

Alec tenses momentarily at the reminder of Magnus’ mortality, but recovers quickly and instead tightens his hold on Magnus, mumbling a quick apology.

Magnus starts thinking about the future. He’s never been able to picture anything specific before.

He still can’t.

The next day, when Alec gets back from work, Magnus has cooked dinner and decorated the table with rose petals and candles and everything. Alec seems to have also had a similar idea: he’s bought flowers and chocolate.

“What’s the occasion?” Magnus asks playfully.

“Could ask you the same thing,” Alec hands him the bouquet and kisses him softly. “I saw these and thought of you, that’s all.”

“Oh, darling, that’s so sweet,” Magnus says, smiling uncontrollably at him, before gesturing to the dinner table. “This was meant as an apology for snapping at you last night. I know you didn’t mean anything bad by your impromptu proposal. I’ve just been a little on edge.”

“I know, it’s okay. And I’m sorry that it came off… well, however it came off. But that wasn’t a proposal. That was just speculation. I’m not gonna actually ask you to marry me without a ring, you know.”

Magnus laughs, and they sit down to eat, but he can’t get Alec’s confident tone when he spoke so surely of their future marriage out of his head and focus on dinner no matter how hard he tries.

Maybe it’s just Magnus’ luck that he’s going to get the one thing he wants solely because he’s lost everything else.

Later that night - almost morning, really - they’re lying in bed in each other’s arms and Magnus asks, “do you really want to marry me?”

“Of course,” Alec says without hesitation. “Why wouldn't I?”

Magnus shrugs. Where do I begin?

“Magnus,” Alec says forcefully when he gets no reply. He places two slender fingers under Magnus’ chin and tilts his head up until they’re looking in each other’s eyes. “You’re literally the man of my dreams. All I’ve wanted to do since the second I met you was spend every waking moment with you for the rest of my life. Why wouldn’t I wanna marry you?”

Magnus is dumbfounded for a moment, as he often is when his boyfriend says things like that as if it’s the most obvious thing in the universe. Then he’s shaking his head and setting his jaw and pulling away from Alec. “Because!” he cries. “Nothing that good can come from this !”

Alec’s confusion at his words melts away when Magnus stares down at his hands - his cold and sparkless fingers - replaced instead by a hurt, incredulous look.

“Hang on, you think I wanna marry you because-” Alec sputters. “You think I only want this because you’re mortal now?!”

“Well, why else have you never brought it up before?”

“Because I’ve never come this close to losing you before!”

It’s quiet for a moment. Magnus wraps his arms around himself. Alec sits up and tries desperately to catch his eyes.

“You went to hell , Magnus,” he says, softer and quieter. “You had the highest fever I have ever seen on anyone in my life. You’re pulling away from me and you’re pretending you’re not hurting. I didn’t want to go another second without reminding you what you mean to me.”

Magnus takes a deep breath. “It feels like pity,” he admits.

“It’s not pity,” Alec says. “I would marry you whether we both had a day or a thousand years to live. But if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I don’t care as long as I get to be with you.”

“It feels like pity.”

“Then I’ll shut up about it.” Alec promises, then after a moment reaches out and playfully shoves Magnus. “See what happens when you talk to me?”

He’s got a point. So a few hours later, after a quick nap and a lovely breakfast prepared by Alec, Magnus finds Alec in the library and finally starts talking.

At first he talks about everything but himself, but he can't avoid that topic for long. So “Catarina asked us to babysit next week” turns to “how's your family holding up?” to “I watched her grow up, you know. She used to make these drawing for me... I couldn't keep them - no one could know I knew her for everyone's safety - but I still remember them all. I can't believe she's really…” to “it's strange, not being able to use magic anymore, I don't know how to get used to it” and finally it all goes back to the root of the problem:

“I'm scared.”

Alec, who’s gone from listening intently from five feet apart to hugging him so tightly Magnus’ words are muffled into his shirt, looks down at him for a long moment when he says this.

“Of dying?” he asks quietly.

Magnus shakes his head.

“Then, what?”

“Of being…” Magnus sighs. “Of being powerless. Of not being able to help people or defend myself or fix thing. Of…not knowing who or what I am anymore if I’m not…”

A warlock. A healer. Useful .

“You’re the best person I know, and you always will be,” is what Alec says in reply, with no hesitation. “And we’re going to figure this out.”

Magnus feels himself smile without meaning to. He buries his face in Alec’s shoulder and Alec holds him for a while longer. This doesn’t answer any of his questions or solve any of his problems, but Magnus can’t deny he feels a little better, a little lighter, after their talk. Alec doesn’t understand (no one understands, really) and his words could be empty promises as easily as they could be an unbreakable oath. But it helps, somehow, to hear this kind of unwavering support and reassurance. To not have to pretend all the time.

The next time Magnus forgets, Alec is there to lace their fingers together and remind him to breathe before the world starts to feel like it’s crumbling down all around him again.

#c: magnus #c: alec #r: malec #canon divergence #angst #fluff

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sneegsnitties · 5 years

Text

Creatures of the Light, Run From the Night Ch 3. Finality

[AO3 LINK] @tazbang

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: blupcretia, taagnus, davenchurch, the light, the voidfish

tags: The Adventure Bang 2019, blood, transformation, alternate universe - canon divergence, character death, canon compliant, canonical character death, temporary character death, body horror, stolen century era, established relationship, we know nothing abt the light yall, angst, the light fucks everyone up? kinda, touch starved, alternate universe - creatures and monsters, other additional tags to be added, crying, slight religious themes,

Summary:The Light Of Creation has always been one of a mystery. It has the power to create, that obvious. But what else does it do? No one knows. This is what the seven birds are trying to figure out, why it’s so important to the hunger? what is the extent of its abilities? What else can it do? These questions will be answered, but not in the way that either of them were expecting. The light of creation has its reasons for doing what it did. A reason that is not quite understood. But whatever it did? It was definitely not what they signed up for. Not even close.

Chapter summary: Lup and Magnus let off some steam, Barry and Lucretia watch over Taako, and as for Taako? well it looks like hes fully embraced his fate.

Lup is exhausted, stressed and fucking pissed. The past few days she’s been trying to dig deeper into the light, further than they’ve already dug in the past 49 years they’ve been doing this. In the cycles where they’ve found the light of course. But no luck so far, she’s unable to find anything new.

She can’t fucking find anything. Not even Barry can, well not what they’ve already found out.

No matter how hard they dig deep into the inner machinations of the light, it always seems like something is preventing them from doing so.

It’s frustrating, especially now, it’s like there’s somebody out there who doesn’t want them to know. Making this a pain in the ass to figure out.

That may be a possibility but whoever the fuck is doing it will get an ass-kicking from Lup as soon as she finds out how and who.

But that can wait, sort of. Not really. It can’t wait. Because Taako is running out of time. It won’t be long until he’s fully crystalized

That little escapade he took out onto the deck of the ship the other night? It only made it spread more. All that moving around he did only made it worse for himself. It has completely devastated Magnus because now he has less time to spend with his boyfriend before his time is up.

It goes for Lup, too. Even though they’re only halfway through the cycle now, it’ll still be too long for them to wait until he’s back.

Honestly, she can’t imagine how Magnus is feeling about all of this. But Lup? She hates it. A lot. The elf wanders the ships as she tries to cool down from the frustration she feels at the moment. She could just scream at the top of her lungs on the deck of the ship or beat up some of Mangus’s training dummies. Or set some random shit on fire.

Anything to get her mind off of this.

“Lup?” she hears Magnus say, pulling her out of her thoughts. Speak of the devil. “Want- want to go for a walk or something?” he asks sheepishly. Lup is quick to notice that he looks so, so tired.

“Yeah.” she smiles, “I think a walk would be good for both of us.”

Magnus returns that smile. But it doesn’t reach his eyes like his signature smiles usually do. But in this situation? It’s understandable.

“How… how are you doing with all of this?” she asks, though she can already guess the answer.

“I don’t- I don’t know. It’s just so fucking bad Lup.” the fighter says, focused on the ground in front of him. His fists clenched as he holds back tears that threatened to fall.

Gods. it’s just so easy to forget that Magnus was just a kid, barely even an adult, when the mission first started. So was Lucretia. This isn’t anything anyone should go through.

“He was in so much pain when he woke up again, I just couldn’t handle it.”

Lup winces, “where’s it spread to now?”

“Half of his face, most of his chest, left arm,” he pauses, “just basically his entire left side now.”

The elven woman nods with a frown on her face, “I’m not finding anything new with The Light either. No matter how hard I try? There’s always something preventing me, somehow, from going deeper.”

Magnus gives her a confused look, “what do you mean? This is like some magical bullshit right?”

“I mean probably?” she shrugs. “But fantasy Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking frustrating!”

“Everything about this is, in a way. I just want him to be fine and back to normal.” he sniffs, “did it feel this bad when he caught that plague back in 14?” a tear glistens in his eye when he turns to look at her.

“I-I don’t know, I’d say this feels worse, so much worse.” she rubbed his shoulder in an attempt of reassurance, but finds herself tearing up too. “Because that time? I didn’t have to see him suffer for very long?” Lup holds back a sob.

Magnus nods, now tears are streaming down his face. “We’ll- we’ll get through this,” he says with the most sincere voice he can muster.

“Don’t we always?” she says with a watery laugh.

“The best we can.”

Lup looks away and up towards the sky through her tears. The sun has begun to set, bathing the sky in a beautiful pinkish purple. It reminds her of home. The sunsets were amazingly beautiful back home, but these are enough to rival. “I guess… this walk wasn’t as relaxing as you would have hoped?”

“No, not exactly.” he chuckles slightly, “but it got us away from the ship.” he wipes his nose with his sleeve.

The duo walk more in silence, enjoying the silence and scenery. Soon, they reach a clearing with a lake. The sunset reflects off of the still waters and luckily, there isn’t anyone around. It’s a good distance from the ship. So she lets out a scream, accidentally startling Magnus next to her who grins and follows her example.

They take turns screaming a few more times before heading back to the ship, seeing as the sun has gotten lower in the sky and it will be night soon. She hopes that their screaming didn’t raise any alarms from any nearby villages from all of their yelling.

“I should take Lucretia and Barry to that lake,” she hums, “Luce would love it.”

“She would,” Magnus says with a small smile. ~ It hasn’t been long since Taako had woken back up again after he was put under another sleep spell, waking up from this one isn’t as painful as the last time. Lup and Magnus have returned from their walk to blow off steam in the training room. Leaving Lucretia and Barry to watch over Taako.

Not that he minds or anything, he gets to spend time with one of his girlfriends. One he hasn’t had the opportunity to have enough alone time with. If you could call this alone time.

But Lucretia has been writing furiously in her journal about all the events that have transpired the past few days, even with one hand.

Moving to another page, she begins to sketch the mostly crystallized form of Taako. He’s impressed. He wishes he could draw that good.

Taako lets out a pained noise, breaking the silence that was hanging in the room. Making Lucretia look up with a look of concern.

He’s getting closer and closer to being fully crystallized now. Even with the process slowed significantly with him being restricted to his bed. Not like he has a choice in the matter.

The human woman gives him a look of concern, “won’t be long now.” she whispers and chews on her bottom lip.

“Y-yeah,” he whispers back, wrapping an arm around her waist, “should- should we call the others?”

“I think we still have time, too early to tell how long it will take exactly.”

“Love that you two lovebirds are talking about me like I’m not even here.” the elf speaks up through a pained voice, “really, how insensitive can you be?” he jokes.

“Sorry Taako, would… would you like to see my drawing?” she asks, almost hesitantly

“Hell yeah, show me.” he says with a smile, or the best smile he can do, “oh wow, that’s me ain’t it?” Taako goes silent. Barry realizes that Taako hasn’t looked at himself in a mirror in a while and doesn’t know what he looks like.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have shown it to you, I’m sorry.” she shrinks into herself slightly.

“No, Creesh it was super good, I liked it,” he reassures sincerely.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Barry confirms and kisses the side of her head.

Lucretia smiles sheepishly, then continues working on her sketch.

The room falls silent again before Taako speaks up again, “do- do you guys know what kind of gemstone slash crystal is covering me?”

“Nope, not a clue.” he shrugs, “that might be a question for Merle.”

“I mean, definitely amethyst, right? Not opaque enough.” the chronicler supplies, not looking up from her drawing, “there are also streaks of various shades of purple in it too.”

“Well, what other types of gems are purple?” the elf asks.

“I can’t think of many off the top of my head.”

Taako then makes a pained noise again as the crystal spreads further down his leg and completely covers it. Now only a portion of his torso is uncovered and the rest of his face.

“Might be spreading faster than we thought,” he whispers to Lucretia again but disguises it as another kiss to her head.

She nods, jots something down in her journal, faster than Barry can process, then turns the page to a clean one and writes something else. She shows him the page which says ‘could be moving faster because talking could equal movement. Should call in the others when its spread over his torso.’

“So soon?” he asks in the most hushed whisper he can manage. “How long do you think he has now?”

She nods and scribbles something else down before presenting it to him again, ‘I don’t know. I hope he lasts through the night.’

The blue-jean clad man exhales sharply. Taako is approaching his end of the cycle rather quickly. But hopefully? Hopefully, he lasts until tomorrow. He has a feeling that Lucretia feels the same way. ~ It did, it held off, allowing Taako to make it through the night.

Last night felt excruciatingly long for Magnus. He could not stay asleep because he was worried about his boyfriend. The thoughts kept on swimming in his brain, making him toss and turn. Needless to say, he had gotten little to no sleep that night. Thoughts on when Taako was going to die.

That time was now, the moment the whole crew was dreading.

Taako almost fully crystallizing.

His torso was covered entirely by the time Merle had come and checked on him that morning.

It was hard not to hear the panic written within the cleric’s voice as he announced over the intercom as the rest of the crew was eating breakfast.

The crystal had - albeit conveniently - only left a portion of Taako’s face uncovered by the time that everyone had filtered into the elf’s room

“I managed to calm him down with calm emotions, so that’s why he’s unnaturally calm,” Merle explains, giving the fighter a look of sympathy.

Magnus ignores the look the dwarf gave him and immediately moves to his boyfriend’s side, “Taako?” he whispers and feels a hand on his shoulder and immediately knows its Lup without even looking.

“Hey babe,” Taako says through a strained voice and a half-smile, “I guess it’s time, huh?”

The fighter nods, tears are already streaming down his face. He doesn’t want to lose his boyfriend this cycle. It isn’t fair.

“Hey, don’t cry over me.” he says reassuringly, “I won’t be gone long, just a couple months. That goes for you too, lulu, don’t cry over me, okay?”

Lup lets out a sob, but nods as the crystal spreads over his remaining eye.

“I- I love you Taako,” Magnus says through his tears

“Love you too, big guy,” the elf smiles, “how about one last kiss for me?” the crystal spreads over his remaining eye completely and he smiles.

The fighter leans down and kisses his boyfriend for the last time this cycle. It takes some effort considering the crystal covering a good majority of his mouth.

“Taako, I-I don’t know why we don’t say this more and only in situations like this but, I love you.” she lets out another sob, “promise me we will? I can’t- fuck!” she buries her face into Barry’s shoulder.

“I promise.” the crystal grows slightly.

Now everyone in the room is crying. Surely, this is one of the worst deaths that has happened on this ship and in this damned journey. With how slow, yet so fast it had taken.

“And Lup?” he barely hears his boyfriend over his tears.

She makes a noise of acknowledgment, looking up from her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Love you too.” and with that, the crystal finally spreads over the rest of his mouth.

The room goes silent, just for a moment, then Lup breaks down into tears again. Barry acts quickly and ushers her out of the room, his glasses clutched in his hand, not to get the tear stains on them, Lucretia follows closely behind them.

Magnus doesn’t move from his spot, he… he can’t bring himself to.

“Kid?” Merle comes over to place a hand on the fighter’s leg, his worn copy of the bible of Pan is in the other. Right, they have to do that prayer thing. None of them are all that religious aside from Merle, but it’s become a sort of a tradition whenever someone dies. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Davenport appears on his other side and the gnome takes the much larger hand of Magnus into his own.

The cleric directs him to the right page, he’s heard this same prayer many times before. He takes a deep breath and begins to recite. “Dearly beloved, we are here in honor of pan, who we are praying to today.” he wipes a tear away from his face before he continues.

“I love you too.” Taako says as the crystal covers his mouth completely and the dark purple world goes black.

‘This will only take a moment’ The Light says somewhere deep within his mind. ‘I just need to connect your new body to your mind.’

#taz #taz bang #the adventure bang #taz bang 2019 #the adventure bang 2019 #vesper speaks #vesper writes

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timeoutforthee · 5 years

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Like It or Not-Chapter 18

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl, @bubblycricket, @fnp-alizay, @neonbluetiefling, @comicsimpson, @a-little-bit-of-ace

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings: referenced child abuse

Read it on AO3!

“Until next time, take it easy guys.”

The four boys nod and start to exit the room, slowly. Thomas thinks about calling after Virgil, to hold him back, but he doesn’t think that’s necessary right now. Maybe next time, after he talks to Picani. Speaking of which, he needs to get to his office to wait for his colleague.

When he heads down the hallway, he finds the therapist already at his door. Emile sends him a smile.

“I was just about to knock, perfect timing!”

Thomas forces a smile, though his mind is still on this last session.

“What’s wrong?”

Thomas laughs as he unlocks his office. “You’re really good at this therapist thing.”

“That, and you practically wear your heart on your sleeve.”

They both walk into the office and take their seats, the door swinging shut behind them. Thomas pulls up the documents they have to fill out for their superiors on his computer as Emile opens his brown notebook.

“So?” Emile prompts.

“I’m just worried about Virgil. He was practically silent this session, much quieter than usual. What was he like during your last session?”

“Noticeably quieter,” he says, without even checking his notes, “And twice as fidgety. We talked in circles a bit, which is strange, he hasn’t done that since the beginning. But when I asked him if he had any final questions or concerns, he finally confessed that there was something he needed to tell me, he just couldn’t this time. So tomorrow I’m either getting more information or we’re taking a different step.”

Thomas let out a breath. “That’s good though, at least we know what’s going on. Any updates on Roman?”

“The more I hear about his family, the more it makes me uneasy. He has mentioned that one of his brothers has been coming around more often, which I think is an attempt at support, but this brother encourages exercising, so it’s a bit of a double-edged sword.”

“So Roman’s still exercising?”

“He says his brother won’t let him overexercise, but-and I don’t mean to make judgments here-I can’t guarantee any of his family members have a healthy state of mind when it comes to exercising.”

Thomas nods, typing the information into the computer.

“What about Logan and Patton?”

“Logan seems to be using the distress tolerance skills effectively. He hasn’t skipped therapy, and he’s gotten better at recognizing when he needs to eat, and that he needs to eat more.”

“That’s great!”

“I’m worried, though, that he may try to convince himself that he never suffered and therefore doesn’t need the skills, similar to the last incident.”

“Are there any skills or anything that we can do to prevent that?”

“I’m not sure. I told him in the original session, when we made the crisis plan, that he could never abuse this resource, even if he, in theory, didn’t have an eating disorder, and that if I thought he was stable enough to quit therapy altogether, I would let him know.”

“That’s a good place to start. Some preventative measures. We can think about other in the future, we don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

“True,” Thomas finishes typing and then leans back in his chair with a sigh, “As for Patton…”

Dr. Picani shoots him a sympathetic smile. “Patton still isn’t committing.”

“He says he’ll do anything to get better, but he won’t even admit that he’s still binging or purging.”

“Have you asked him that directly?”

“Everytime he comes in,” Thomas drags his hands down his face. “I don’t know how to help him if he won’t be open with me. But I’ve asked if he wants to switch, and he looked hurt, like I was the one who didn’t want him.”

“I don’t think it’s you,” Dr. Picani says, “I think Patton has had this disorder for a long time. To the point where he may not be able to imagine a world where he doesn’t have one.”

Thomas frowns.

“Or maybe we’re wrong and he’s a little shit who doesn’t want to work,” Emile says, trying to make his colleague smile, “But either way, we may want to start looking at this from another angle.”

“Hey, Hot Topic, are you even listening to me?”

Virgil blinks, bringing himself back to reality. Well, as much as he can. He’s felt a little...disconnected recently.

“Sorry.”

“What’s up?” Roman asks, frowning.

“Nothi-”

“Let’s try again. What’s wrong?”

Virgil sighs. “You know how a week ago you told me I should be more open with Picani?”

Patton and Logan exchange looks.

“Yes…?” Roman says.

“Well, I’m going to. And I’m not exactly looking forward to it.”

“Is the thing you’re telling him new information?”

“Yes. Maybe not for him, maybe he put it together, I don’t know,” Virgil rubs his hands down his face. “God, I hate this.”

“But it’s going to be so much better!” Roman says.

“How do you know?” Virgil says, a little harsher than he means to, “How do you know it won’t bite me in the ass? How do you know it won’t-?” Virgil snaps his mouth shut before he says too much.

There isn’t really a “too much” anymore. He can’t say too much and have someone overhear and call CPS. He can’t say the wrong thing and get a black eye because of it. But the instinct is woven into him by now.

“Virge,” Patton says, quietly. Virgil turns to look at him, “Dr. Sanders and Dr. Picani are on our team. Letting them know how to best fight for you isn’t going to bite you. It’s going to help you, no matter what it is.”

Virgil takes a deep breath. His anxiety brain is still pressing, still continuing to shout, but how do you KNOW?

“Virgil. Do you find us at least a bit trustworthy?” Logan asks.

Virgil pauses. Trust is a lot, but a bit trustworthy seems safe. And, okay, also true.

“Yes.”

“So could you trust us enough to believe we’re leading you to something positive?”

But what if they’re WRONG? Virgil’s brain screamed, but suddenly, some small part of him responded.

What if they’re not?

“Is there something on your mind, Virgil?”

“Nope,” Virgil says, instinctively, “Why do you ask?”

Dr. Picani looks pointedly at his hands, where he is currently death gripping a Squishable. Virgil lets go automatically. “No reason.”

Instead of gripping it again, Virgil rubs a thumb over its fur. He never really had stuffed animals growing up, but this thing was...cute.

“Say there was something I wanted to talk about…,”

There’s no change in Picani. No leaning forward, no whipping out the notebook, no sitting at attention. He just looks up at Virgil. “Hypothetically?”

“Yes. Let’s say I got through, like, half the thing and didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Could we do that?”

“We can talk about anything you want, Virge, however you want.”

“And if I told you, you would keep it a secret?”

“Well, if you’re a danger to yourself or others-”

“I read the contract, Emile,” Virgil cuts him off, “I mean...you wouldn’t bring it up in group.”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” Virgil says, and he feels his hand close around the stuffed toy again. Emile leans over to the little table and picks up the fidget cube. He holds it out to Virgil, who lets go of his current fidget for this new one. “Thanks.”

The only sound for a while is the rapid clicking from the buttons on the fidget cube, before Virgil finally takes a breath and forces it out.

“My dad used to hit me. He did for a while.”

There’s a silence, and there’s a panic inside Virgil rising. He messed up. Oh God he fucked up so bad what happens when-

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Virgil. Now, before we continue, I want you to take a deep breath.”

Virgil takes a shallow one.

“Try again,” Dr. Picani takes a deep breath in through his nose, and lets it out slowly through his mouth. Virgil does the same. “Now I want you to remember. You’re safe in here. Nothing leaves these walls unless you want them to. You’re in control here.”

“I’m in control?”

“Yes,” Dr. Picani says, “So, may I ask a question?”

“I mean, sure.”

“Is that why you came to live with your aunt?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says, “It happened...sorta fast.”

“What did?”

“You know...getting taken away. Being placed with her. One night I had an issue with my dad, the next I’m getting interrogated, the next I’m at my aunt’s.”

“That sounds like it would be hard.”

“It...was.”

“Did you see your dad after the “issue,” as you call it?”

Virgil opens his mouth, then pauses, thinking it over.

“No, I guess not. Not really. I ran up to my room, I hid, I snuck out to go to school, I came home and he said-” he shakes his head, “Then we were separated. And-and-”

“Deep breaths, Virgil.”

“I don’t-we can’t talk about that, not now, not yet.”

“That’s fine, Virgil. Is there anything else you want to share?”

“N-no,” There’s a voice, in the back of his head, that yells, what, you can’t even fucking speak now?

“Virgil, can you look at me?”

Virgil tears his eyes away from the cube and looks at Emile.

“I’m so, so proud of you, Virgil. That’s a lot to admit. I’m so glad you trusted me enough to tell me that.” Emile takes another deep breath, encouraging Virgil to do the same. He does.

“Now, our session is almost over, but I need to ask you one more important question.”

“Sure,” Virgil says, even though he’s a little more cautious this time.

Dr. Picani stands and holds out his arms. “Can I have a hug?”

Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there patiently. Eventually, Virgil stands and lets himself be hugged.

“Thank you!” his therapist chirps, going to the door to let him out. Virgil smirks at him, but starts walking out, before pausing.

He’s just now realizing that Emile hasn’t used his handy dandy notebook this entire session. He was focused entirely on Virgil. That thought suddenly feels like too much, and he bolts for the exit.

#dude it's been a while what do i even tag this #like it or not #lion #sanders sides fanfic

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steal-this-idea · 5 years

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Babylon 5 rewatch continues...

Now with a LINK to the original post that I had let grow to unreasonable length instead of forcing the two people who will see this scroll through ever last piece of dumb shit I’ve had to say first!

JUMP TO ORIGINAL LONG POST HERE

(Learning Curve)

I’ve taken the talk on meditation to heart (the “anyone can meditate in silence” bit) to the point where I think I can become impatient or even annoyed by those who insist upon quiet to do so (think especially for certain sports like golf and tennis...like, if you’re to the point where you’re a professional, some asshole in the stands should be able to neither faze you nor distract you)

If garlic stinks then what’s saffron? (the meal where Garibaldi starts laying into Lochley’s past and Zack is obliquely commenting on it, asking if anyone thinks the food tastes funny, suggesting saffron when it starts getting awkward and concluding garlic after Lochley puts Garibaldi in his place)

Continuing my Takashima just disappeared rant: N’grath, our season 1 praying mantis gangster, gets a mention in this episode but Lt.Cmdr. Takashima? Who’s she?

I do love that the Minbari are an advanced race but not an impassionate one...which honestly makes them scarier, as the Earth-Minbari War shown to us throughout “In the Beginning” demonstrated...

Meaning does not exist independently... I wonder if this episode is where I got that idea from?

(Strange Relations)

I don’t hate the ex-wife of Sheridan revelation of Capt. Lochley. If anything, it kinda complements how Cmdr. Sinclair got appointed to run Babylon 5. I assume, like with the Minbari when the station first came online, Sheridan insisted on veto power over anyone EarthGov might select to run Babylon 5. I wonder if Capt. Lochley was far down the list too?

Zip ties: Still good enough for the 23½ century :-)

The bottle tossing Hyach is at it again...

(Secrets of the Soul)

I do like Season 5 being like a mirror of Season 1 and giving us more standalone type episodes which allows us to be given closer looks at members of the (former) League of Non-Aligned Worlds. This episode, the Hyach; the next episode, the Brakir; and the one after that, the Drazi.

And I have to say this again. Even when he’s cheesy, I don’t hate Byron.

I think Lyta made me love bangs :-)

I liked the detail of the Drazi record not being in English

Also, why didn’t we learn Byron’s secrets too? While, yes, dramatic effect for the later episode, sure...why not? I suppose also Lyta’s walls coming down during her intimacy may have simply flooded everything else out too. Hard to say. I also wonder why Lyta’s eyes went black during their lovemaking when, since this is a Vorlon-influenced memory, they should’ve glowed white? Again, I’m sure it had something to do with dramatic effect...

(Day of the Dead)

I love that Capt. Lochley hates Rebo & Zooty. It’s like, ugh...these hacks :-)

And I also love Delenn’s reaction to one of their jokes. I wonder what Mira Furlan was thinking about to get herself to laugh so heartily and convincingly?

youtube

Nice that the guest spots got end credits billing and not upfront so as not to spoil the surprise (unlike what happened with Anna Sheridan). I wonder if that cost TNT a fine with the Screen Actors Guild? I know Lucas always had to pay a fine to get out of putting traditional title screen credits over the start of each Star Wars film.

I presume there is plenty of A.U. fiction out there about who the other characters would have met had they been on the other side of the line?

Do you think Kosh would have appeared in its encounter suit to Sheridan had he been there or would it have been more open like in the death dream sequence (or even in its true squid-like form)?

(In the Kingdom of the Blind)

The Centauri are ultra racist. That dude’s not even attempting discretion: he’s gonna talk shit about Narns right in front of a Narn with not even a hint of concern that G’Kar might understand what he’s saying or be capable of feeling hurt by it.

As much as I hate what Byron did after learning how telepaths came to be and what they were intended for, I also can’t imagine an equivalent shock that could so forcefully shake the very foundations of my world and thus how I would react to such knowledge...

Would the Drakh have worked better if they didn’t have visible sclera? I just can’t help but feel if their eyes were entirely black or red instead of looking human, if it would have increased their visual menace or just made them look goofy?

But that lighting on the Drakh’s reveal though...magnificent

Isn’t that a Brakiri warship? How could it have been unarmed? I’m not in any way justifying the attack on them but, like, of *all* the ships you could’ve used to illustrate an attack on a commercial transport...

(A Tragedy of Telepaths)

I’ll admit I’ve tried using the “There’s No Bomb” technique in my desperate attempts to quell my allergies. Trying to tell my itchy, runny nose that, despite its objections, there’s no need to sneeze. There’s. No need. To sneeze...

Can’t say it ever worked though...

Byron just dropping that some worlds developed telepaths naturally which seems strange because I thought I recalled JMS mentioning that if a species were to develop telepathy they’d never advance to civilization. Being a telepath would just be another technique a predator could use to snare prey and/or a technique a prey animal could use to avoid being eaten.

Still, if I’m going to grant him this, I wonder if the Soul Hunters were an example of natural telepaths? The behavior of the two we meet in the show’s second episode is reminiscent of telepath behavior we witness in later episodes (like Byron sensing that man’s impending death and the Soul Hunter being able to pick up on Delenn’s secrets as the machine she was hooked up to slowly killed her). Were Soul Hunters like vultures originally? Always feeling for the impending death of an animal so they could eat that night? But that particular ability wouldn’t necessarily have prevented the kind of generalization necessary for the development of language, tools, and technology so the ability served them rather than limited them and as they developed and went to the stars, the idea of preserving special souls became of paramount importance to their raison d’être. Comments? Concerns? Good idea? Poorly thought out idea?

G’KAR: Would you like some jala? It’s cold.

LONDO: Get that away from me. Jala needs to be hot. It takes heat to cultivate its flavor. To consume cold jala is to insult a Centauri. I don’t even know where you got it.

G’KAR: I saw it on a tray heading into the south end of the palace. I assumed no one would mind if I took it.

LONDO: That’s right. Only Narns can stomach it cold.

It would be interesting to have a culture which marks the peaces rather than the wars. I don’t even know if that would be so far-fetched to imagine such a people given the Incas made “constellations” out of the dark parts of the sky as well as its luminous parts.

Byron’s demand for compensation is SOOO much more reasonable than his threat of blackmail. It’s a shame he didn’t think of it first...

Is the Interstellar Alliance basically the Minbari Empire? Minbar’s going to be the home office of the ISA. After the White Star fleet (which really cannot be rebuilt), the Minbari military is the strongest in the known galaxy and I have to assume it is their fleet the ISA would lean on in the event of a major war between powers. I don’t know. I just think of it like if we were to form an EarthGov right now and it actually had real power, its power would almost certainly be heavily reliant on U.S. military might, making an EarthGov like a de facto U.S. empire, no? It’s outside the scope of Babylon 5, but I wonder if such a thing will come up in the ISA’s future?

Babylon 5 did for me with telepaths what Buffy the Vampire Slayer did for vampires. I can no longer accept any alternative :-)

(Phoenix Rising)

I wonder how this telepath colony plot would have unfolded differently had Byron had the foresight to have some non-human telepaths among them so they wouldn’t be wholly under Earth’s jurisdiction?

Do you think Bester spoke to his underlings at the briefing because he *had* to or was it solely for our, the viewer’s, benefit? I just think back to when Bester first met with Sinclair...

Regarding Bester’s “How stupid do you think I am?” speech: I’m so glad JMS didn’t pad the scene by going to commercial as the music climaxed with Garibaldi holding a PPG to him. That immediate release of dramatic tension because there never was any there to begin with; that subversion of expectations, was an effective choice.

I don’t drink but after that scene, I’d probably start drinking too...

Peter’s telekinesis seems underwhelming. I suppose I could blame it on the show’s ability to do that special effect (the ring Eilerson fires in that episode of Crusade was an effect done well). But how hard was he casting those objects? I feel like I could throw harder and more accurately; like his telekinesis was really an inefficient way to go about things, y’know?

I know from reading around that had Claudia Christian remained on the show, she would’ve been the one to fall for Byron and I have to admit it’s still hard imagining Ivanova in that role. I think I’m glad she didn’t not because it would be unbelievable but just that it would be yet another tragic love and broken trust story for her and it’s like, damn, give this woman a break already...hasn’t she suffered enough?

Did Byron program his followers with that hymn? The way they gather around him before he immolates them is practically instinctual. I suppose it’s not so far-fetched. Byron *is* a strong P12 and more than once he desperately tried to get back to his people in order to calm them down suggesting his hold over them may not have been charisma alone. I don’t know...

(The Ragged Edge)

The Drazi with the vomit bag on the shuttle, haha. I love those touches they put into the show :-)

Is it my imagination or is G’Kar’s room less red?

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grootiez · 6 years

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The Joys of Raising a Teenaged Groot- Chapter 37: The Meeting

The next day, Rocket came to visit Groot to discover that he was fully recovered from the flu that he suffered from yesterday. Groot was more alert and eager to start his day as Azrik got him into the patient lift and into his wheelchair and buckled in before he took Groot down to the nurse’s office to have his feeding tube hooked up to him for his breakfast.

As Azrik left with Groot in tow down the hallway, Rocket had a few unexpected visitors enter Groot’s room: the rest of the Guardians.

“Hey, Rocket.” Peter greeted. “How are you and Groot holding up?”

“We’re good.” Rocket answered. “Azrik just took Groot down to the nurse’s office to have his feeding tube hooked up to him. He’ll be back soon.” Groot’s excited screams could be heard down the hallway. “...Or right now.” He said as Azrik brought Groot back to his room.

Groot was happy to see the other Guardians. The teenager squealed in delight as he tried to outstretch his arms in an effort to hug each of them, where they each gave him a hug, one by one as Azrik affixed the lap tray to Groot’s wheelchair and placed his talker on its stand.

“Alright, Groot, we’re going to do something a little different this morning before you go to therapy today.” Azrik informed Groot as he looked at his aide, confused. He then turned to the other Guardians. “We have to have a meeting concerning Groot’s future care. So, if you guys don’t mind, we can go down to the conference room to discuss this.” Azrik added as he started to push Groot down to the conference room as the other Guardians followed.

They all filed into the conference room, Drax holding the door open for everyone before closing it. They each sat down in one of the plush dark brown leather seats as Azrik parked Groot in the middle of the Guardians before sitting on the other side of the table and getting out Groot’s case file.

Azrik cleared his throat before he began his statement. “As you all are well aware, Groot wasn’t expected to make it this far.” He stated as Rocket held Groot’s hand in order to make him feel at ease. “Groot wasn’t even expected to live, but by some miracle, he pulled through.” Rocket then smiled at his son. “However, Groot’s recovery hasn’t been easy. His diagnosis was severe brain damage from his injuries and his prognosis was for him to be no more than a bedridden vegetable dependent on machines for the rest of his life. He was not supposed to even make eye contact with anyone or understand what was going on around him.” Groot tried to not become upset at these words.

Azrik then smiled at Groot as he looked at the teenager in the eyes. “But you’ve proven everybody wrong, Groot. You can look at everyone who sees you everyday and know who they are, you don’t need a ventilator to breathe, you’re not a vegetable by any means, you’re not confined to your bed, instead you’re sitting in your wheelchair and you’re able to do more things and move around because of it, Ms. Calina says that you’re enjoying speech therapy and using your voice synthesizer to communicate, especially since Ms. Calina was able to merge Rocket’s voice with yours so it’ll sound more natural, and your therapists say that you’re making progress in rehab.”

“So... why are we here? You could’ve just told us he was doing so well in his room. Why do we need a meeting?” Peter questioned.

The comment didn’t faze Azrik, who stated. “It is with my recommendation that we send Groot home.”

The Guardians were speechless for a moment, followed by uninterrupted cheers and congratulations for Groot. Groot expressed his happiness by joyous cheering.

When the celebrating died down, Azrik continued. “Now, the only caveat is that this is only a trial period of time. Groot has a lot of medical concerns and if anything should go wrong, he’ll need to be brought back here for further care. Your house would also have to be inspected and be declared safe and accessible for Groot before he is able to come home.”

“When you say a ‘trial period’, how long do you mean by that?” Drax questioned.

“We want to see how Groot would do at home for a couple of days, so we’re probably going to send him home for a weekend, starting on a Friday, staying overnight, and him coming back to us on Monday.” Azrik explained. “However, Groot has multiple medical conditions that would make a sudden life change such as this impossible, so we have to slowly get him used to it over time, until both you and him are comfortable.”

“What conditions are you talking about?” Rocked asked worriedly.

“Groot doesn’t like sudden changes in his daily routine or environment unless he knows what to expect. Which brings me to my next point. Starting tomorrow, we’re going to move Groot from the special housing unit, down to the transitional housing unit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kraglin asked as he ate some soup.

“Transitional housing is where all of our patients go when they will be discharged soon and can go home to their families. But since Groot has a couple more special needs, it would be advisable that you attend some of these home life sessions with Groot so that you can properly care for him.” Azrik advised.

“What are these sessions about?” Gamora asked as she got out her notebook to write down notes for the other Guardians.

“Well, since Groot is unable to tell you when he needs to go to the bathroom and isn’t able to be potty trained, you’ll need to learn how to change his diaper.” Azrik answered.

“Well, that won’t be too hard. We’ve raised Groot from when he was a baby and needed to change his diaper before he was potty trained, this won’t be much different.” Peter stated.

“Actually, it is.” Azrik replied. “Since Groot doesn’t have proper bladder control, he had to have a catheter put in to help control his bladder movements. It also needs to be changed twice a day- as soon as he wakes up and taken out before he gets his shower and replaced with a new one afterwards and just before he goes to bed. Now, if he falls ill, he’ll need a catheter change 3 times a day.” Groot winced in response.

“Anything else?” Gamora queried.

“Yes, you’ll also be learning how to help give Groot a shower. Since he isn’t mobile on his own he’ll need the use of a commode chair just to get into the shower.” Azrik began. “You’ll also need to wash him with a shower wand to make it easier on yourselves.”

Kraglin soon realizes a problem and brings up his concerns. “But we don’t have a shower big enough to fit all of this stuff. Plus, converting the showerhead into a handheld one might be a problem...”

Peter was confused by what Kraglin was saying. “Kraglin... the shower was working just fine yesterday. What are you talking about?” Kraglin stared at the floor as Peter placed a finger underneath his chin and made the Xandarian look at him in the eye. “Tell us the truth...”

“...I reconverted the showerhead so that instead of water coming out, it rains hot soup instead...” Kraglin mumbled as everyone except for Groot and Azrik covered their faces with their palms. “What? It was Drax’s idea...”

The Guardians let out a collective moan. Peter was not too happy that he would have to call the plumbers again to fix another problem with the shower, on top of possibly having to widen and probably convert the shower to a roll-in shower in order to fit and accommodate the commode chair Groot would need to be able to even get in the shower.

Gamora broke the silence after an uncomfortable minute. “Is there anything else that we’ll need to learn in order to take care of Groot?”

“The biggest and most important thing that you’ll need to learn in order to properly care for Groot is how to feed him and give him his medications through his feeding tube.” Azrik took note of the Guardians’ faces as he talked. “Now, I know that all of this sounds daunting, but if you guys start to feel overwhelmed, we can look into hiring a professional home care nurse to look after Groot full time. They will take on the responsibilities of administering his medications to him, giving him his formula through his feeding tube, basically all of the medical care that he needs, his nurse will be able to provide for him.”

“Is that all?” Gamora asked as she flipped to a new blank page in her notebook.

“Just one more thing. Are you planning on taking Groot anywhere after he’s discharged?” Azrik inquired.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve been talking to him about taking him different places after he leaves here and he’s excited about it.” Rocket answered as he held Groot’s hand as the teen squealed happily.

“Do you have a way of getting Groot around?” Azrik questioned.

Peter thought about his answer. “Well, yeah, I mean, we have a car of course.”

“Can your vehicle accommodate Groot?” Azrik asked.

“Well, yeah. It ain’t like Groot’s going to be standing up in the car while we’re driving.” Peter was starting to get annoyed.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea for him either.” Azrik stated. “Groot needs to be seated down in a moving vehicle. Now, there’s two options for him. The first would be specialized car seat designed for special needs individuals like Groot.” He showed the Guardians a brochure of the car seat in question. It was designed just like an ordinary car seat for babies and toddlers, but the size was much larger for teens and adults. It also had a block in the middle to prevent Groot’s legs from squeezing against each other. “However, in order to use the car seat, Groot must be able to sit up on his own without any assistance of any type. I’m sorry to say that this would not be feasible for him.”

“Then what would be feasible for him to get around in?” Gamora asked as Azrik handed the Guardians another brochure.

“Since the only safe way to transport Groot is in his wheelchair, he’ll need a special van to get around in.” Azrik began. “Luckily, this company specializes in building those types of vehicles so that the people who need them the most get them. There’s almost no difference in between driving them and a regular car. The only difference is that in the back where the lift gte is for the trunk, there will be a wheelchair lift to get Groot in and out of the van. The last row of seats will also be removed, except for a single captain-style seat next to the bay where Groot’s wheelchair would be tied down so that he can safely ride in the vehicle. Now, given the size of your family, you would have to get the biggest van that the company currently offers. The layout would be the leather driver’s seat and front passenger seat, 2 rows of bench-style leather seats, that can fit 3 people and 4 people, respectively, and the single captain seat in the back next to the wheelchair bay with tie down straps where Groot would be riding from.”

Peter was a little bit skeptical at all of the features. “How much is all of this going to cost?”

Azrik took a deep sigh. “Unfortunately, these types of vans are expensive. Since your family needs the biggest one that they make and Groot needs all of the space in the back, it’s going to cost around 100,000 Units.”

Peter balked at the price tag. There was no way any of the Guardians could ever afford the vehicle. Before he could say anything, Gamora talked to him.

“Peter, it’s okay. We’ll find a way to pay off the van so that we can take Groot places.” She reassures the humie as Peter calms down.

After a moment, Azrik turned to Groot. He then asked the teen, “Now, Groot, do you have any questions about what we discussed?”

Groot thought about everything that was said. He still couldn’t believe that he was going to get the chance to go home. Even though it was only going to be for a short trial period to see how he’ll make out. “When can I go home?” He asked through his voice synthesizer.

“Well, Groot, you’ll need to have your halo removed and be in the transition program for a while, but as soon as we feel that you’re ready, you can go home.” Azrik told Groot as the teenager squealed happily as he squeezed Rocket’s hand.

The meeting was now over. Everyone then went to Groot’s therapy session. They (especially Rocket) couldn’t believe that soon, Groot would be able to go home.

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Read on Ao3.

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