#IF there is a problem it would be the needle itself

[ceesimz]

Our Sun Is Setting

TW: mentions of homophobia and grief for a parent. It's quite a heavy fic, please keep that in mind.

"I told my Mami about you today."

You didn't think it was possible for a relatively normal, short sentence over the phone to make you feel sick to the pit of your stomach, but it did.

"Oh." That was all you managed.

Your mind was in overdrive as you stood in the middle of the grocery store, buying ingredients for the dinner you were preparing for later that evening when Alexia was going to come over. Any other person would have reacted better, wouldn't have been frozen to the tiles of the shop in the middle of the breakfast aisle, wouldn't have been on the brink of a panic attack from a simple statement.

"She was very happy. And she would like to meet you soon, whenever you like."

Another punch to the gut.

"She also teased me for talking about you so much. I couldn't stop myself." Alexia paired her words with a shy laugh.

The sound of it grounded you slightly as you moved out of the way of an old couple walking in your direction, but your head was still being insistently ruthless as you wandered mindlessly through the rest of the shop. Alexia was still talking over the line, seemingly not noticing your silence, but you couldn't work out what she was saying due to the unbearable ringing in your ears.

You were in shock.

"Are you still there?"

"Y-yeah, sorry. I think the signal went a bit weird, I didn't catch much of what you said." You reply in a shaking voice.

On the other side of the phone, Alexia frowns ever so slightly - she can almost sense something is wrong, but she can't quite figure out what or why. She hopes that when she sees you later, you are perhaps feeling better or if not, at least she's there for you.

"Okay cariño, would it be better if I left you to your shop?" She suggests, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel of her car where she was parked outside of the training complex before an afternoon training session.

"Yeah, probably. Sorry, I'll see you later."

And with that, you hung up.

As you went to slide your phone into your pocket with your shaking hands, you missed, causing it to clatter heavily against the tiles. It earned a few stares from the people around you, only intensifying the jittery dread that surged through you. Pins and needles encapsulated your body as you crouched down to pick up your now-smashed phone, but currently that was the last thing on your mind.

Alexia's statements circled relentlessly around your head - to literally anybody else in the world, hearing those words from someone they had were seeing would be enamouring and seen as a key, heart-warming milestone. But to you, it opened up a dark spot in your mind that you had shunned to the side for some amount of time. It seemed now was the right moment for that unidentifiable problem to break free from its shackles and make itself known, and you were terrified of what those repercussions would be.

You carried out the rest of your shop on autopilot, shoving a handful of notes into the cashier's hand before rushing out without a clue of how much you just gave them. For all you know, you could have massively overpaid them or robbed them in broad daylight. You were so out of touch with the world right now.

So much so, that you were unlocking the door to your apartment before you realised. How long did it take you to get home? Did your phone still work? What time is it? Did you walk, get a taxi, catch the bus, how did you get here? What did you even buy at the shop? Why won't this fucking door open-

A neighbour walked past hastily as you barged a shoulder against the door and almost crashed through it as it finally opened. You sent them an apologetic smile, though there was no doubt in your mind it was more of a manic and unnerving look than anything else, before slamming it shut behind you. The icing on the cake to this whole thing was the fact that the bottom of your shopping bag split open, scattering your groceries across the floor of the entryway. At least now you could see what you had bought.

Whether your legs failed you and buckled or you put yourself on the ground, you kneeled on the floor and gathered everything into your arms to transport it to the kitchen. It was a struggle, your trembling arms barely having the strength to hold themselves up, but you managed to dump your belongings on the kitchen side. Once you'd done that, you rested heavily against the counter, desperately trying to replenish the oxygen that had been stolen from your lungs some point along the way to this moment here.

What the fuck do you do now?

You turned to lean back against the counter and slowly slid down to the ground until you were sat on the floor, head back against the cupboard. There were too many conflicting thoughts and emotions rushing through you that all you could do was sit and stare. Feeling nothing but everything at the same time, thinking nothing but everything all at once.

Seeing Alexia tonight might tip you over the edge. You hope it doesn't end that way. You hope that her presence eases you. You hope she saves you from falling, sinking, spiralling into an irrevocable state of mind, whether she recognises that she's doing it or not. You hope, hope, hope.

Time seems to be a temporary concept for today, because before you've even had the chance to start preparing dinner for tonight, Alexia is at your door. Her voice calls out from behind it, asking if you're in there and if you're okay, because you've zoned out again. You're on the sofa, your cross-body purse still hanging off your shoulder, your jacket still zipped up to your chin, your shoes still on. Your groceries are still strewn on the kitchen counter, and the torn bag is still in the entry way.

"Amor, are you in there? Let me in." Alexia calls out, her voice tainted with concern.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm coming!" You jump up, kick your shoes off, throw your bag onto the small dining table, and open the door. She visibly deflates at the sight of you, her tense shoulders dropping, but her face contorts at your attire.

"Why do you have your chaqueta on?" She asks, and you're beyond grateful to hear it's said in an amused tone.

"Bit cold s'all. Come in." You're not cold. You live in Barcelona, and it's the middle of the spring.

You step to the side and she walks in with a tiny smile on her face. She's glad to be here, you realise. She seems to be in a light and happy mood, carrying no extra stress or other burdens, and, rather selfishly, you're glad.

"How was training?"

You plaster a smile on your face as she takes her shoes off and drops her bag beside them, turning to you and opening her arms. You walk into them with no hesitation, but the feeling isn't as relieving as you desired it to be.

"It was good. I did a amazing free-kick, I will show you the video." Alexia beams, and that does warm your heart somewhat. Her passion for her work, her career, her life, was forever an invigorating thing to witness. It's a shame you weren't in the right mood to appreciate it.

"That's great, Ale." You smile genuinely up at her, more than happy to return the soft kiss she offers.

It momentarily calms and heals a small part of you you'd been hoping she would subconsciously fix, but it wasn't enough and you recognised that straight away. You'd get on your knees, beg, and pray to any higher power that would listen to you just so you'd feel okay for one more day. Except, who do you pray to when you don't believe in God?

"What's that?" She points to the white plastic bag from earlier.

"Oh, the bag for the groceries ripped as soon as I walked in. Must have forgotten to pick it up." You shrug it off, wishing for her attention to be elsewhere for the time being. "I haven't started dinner yet, sorry."

"That's okay." She smiles, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly and kissing your cheek. "How was your day?"

Tough question.

"It was alright, haven't done much." You brush it off, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen... where the whole area was still a state.

"Oh, what happened here?" Alexia frowns.

If it was just a few items, she wouldn't be so puzzled, but when a good portion of the food left out was fridge and freezer food? Strange.

"I... I, when the bag ripped before, a jar smashed by the door and, uh... I took a while cleaning it and forgot to put the rest of the stuff away." You ramble unusually quickly. It was a blatant lie, but she didn't need to know that.

Except, Alexia was an incredibly attentive person, and she knew straight away that something was amiss. The first sign was that, in her intelligent mind, she knew that theoretically if a jar filled were to smash by the front door, the white bag from earlier would have been covered in its contents - but that wasn't the case. The second sign: whenever you cleaned your apartment, you used a very strong smelling citrus scented spray - she often complained about it and nagged you to get one that smelt nicer. Your apartment didn't smell uncomfortably citrusy right now. Funny observation, sure, but these two pieces of seemingly inconspicuous evidence gave away the fact you weren't right. Oh, and your strange behaviour showcased on the phone earlier and a few moments ago didn't help your case either.

But, she chose not to pressure you about it yet. She wanted to wait until you perhaps opened up to her some point this evening. However, that didn't entirely stop her from speaking up.

"Ven aquí, amor." Alexia demands calmly, reaching a hand out to you. Suppressing a sigh, you take it, and she looks down at you with a pressing stare. "Answer me honestly. Are you okay?"

No.

"Yes, I'm okay. I'm fine, Ale, I am." You try to reassure her, squeezing her hand and smiling up at her.

"You promise?" Alexia raises her eyebrows and offers her pinky for you to seal your, rather untruthful, truth. "It's okay if something isn't right."

Pinky promises, as childish as they may come across to some, were never to be broken. Since the start of your relationship, they had been a thing that had been utilised by the both of you to ensure you are telling the truth. Alexia had broken one of her promises she had made to you before in the past, so why couldn't you do one in return? It's only fair, right? Relationships were meant to be equal after all.

"Promise." You smile again and raise your other hand to lock fingers with her. She smiles, though you can see she's not convinced, but nevertheless she kisses your knuckle.

"Can I help you cook?"

"I'm meant to be cooking for you. And you are a bit of a control freak in the kitchen." You tease, desperately trying to steer the night away from the morose direction it could go down, and instead towards the light-hearted, content way you so needed.

"I think I am just a control freak in general." She smirks at you before turning to put away the disregarded shopping. You would also happily accept that direction too, you supposed. "Venga, I am so hungry, I skipped lunch at training for a meeting and now I regret it."

To your relief, you both make peaceful conversation once you've told her what you planned on cooking, and it's so peacefully domestic as you do your individual tasks beside each other. Every so often, Alexia will joke and bump her hip into yours as you giggle, and this version of your girlfriend is exactly what you needed. For a moment, you feel the cloud over your head slither away, until the topic you wanted to avoid came up.

"So, what do you think of me telling my Mami about us? You never gave me a response on call earlier."

You freeze momentarily, Alexia thankfully not noticing from the corner of her eye. With a subtle clearing of your throat, you continue cutting up the chilli peppers on the board in front of you, but your now shaking hands pose as a slight kitchen hazard considering the sharp knife you were wielding.

"I, yeah, it's nice. Nice that you, um... did that." You stutter out anxiously, nausea settling cruelly in the pit of your stomach. Alexia takes in your reaction and laughs under her breath, turning briefly to leave a kiss on your forehead.

"No need to be nervous, amor. We have been together for many months now, it was due to happen soon. And M-"

"Ow- fuck!" You gasp sharply, dropping the knife immediately and cradling your hand as blood began dripping from the middle joint of your index finger.

"Woah, amor, what happened?" Alexia winces at the sight, grabbing a few squares of kitchen paper and pressing it against your cut.

"I- my hand slipped and I obviously cut myself." You grimace, eyes tightly shut to rid yourself of the sight. "It burns too, fuck."

Alexia knew you didn't handle blood too well, so she turned you away from the scene and wrapped one arm around your back, rubbing up and down comfortingly whilst she still applied pressure to the cut.

"It's okay, it's okay, it hurts more because of the chilli. Take some breaths, vale?" You nod hastily, not really realising your cheeks had puffed out as you held your breath. Alexia watches your face closely, eyes still closed as you took deep breaths to calm yourself. "You're doing good, bebita. Keep doing that, so good. Let's relax a bit, hm? We should sit down in case you get lightheaded."

The last sentence is her thinking out loud as she started guiding you towards one of the chairs at the dining table. Resting one elbow on the table whilst Alexia continued to hold your wounded hand, you lay your forehead against your uninjured hand as Alexia crouched beside you. Your joined hands lay in your lap as you calmed down, or at least tried to.

To Alexia, it would appear that you were just mentally recovering from the shock of the incident. But actually, you were trying to dispel the unsuspected horror that filled you to the brim at Alexia's earlier reminder.

I told my Mami about you today. She wants to meet you.

That line inevitably meant you had to tell your family too. Except, you couldn't. There was no way you would, no way you could, not without facing realities you had pressed down far into unreachable and forgettable depths of your mind. It was all too much, it was simply not a possibility for you. You knew what it would lead to, and you weren't ready for that.

For the past months you'd been with Alexia and the time you spent getting to know her before that, you had mostly lived in a bubble that dissociated you from the broken, cracked, ruined, utterly destroyed parts of your brain. It had been perfect so far, and you'd be fucking damned to leave that bubble now. But perhaps it was too late and the damage had been done long before Alexia said what she said earlier, maybe that darkness just needed a catalyst before it submerged you in its wake.

"Amor? Hey, come back." One of Alexia's hands lightly patted your cheek to bring you back into the room. "You scared me there. Your breathing got really bad and you were in a... a weird daze. I was talking but you weren't reacting or anything. Are you back now?"

You nodded wordlessly at her, still not entirely taking in what she was saying.

"The blood... freaked me out." You rasp breathlessly, shaking your head a little to rid the glaze over your vision.

"That's okay. Do you feel a little dizzy? I can get you something to help that. Clear your head maybe." You nod again, and she gently lets go of your hand. Cold shivers immediately burst through at the lost contact, but you had to get over yourself and get used to it.

Cautiously, you take the tissue off of your hand and inspect the damage. It doesn't seem deep enough for stitches, which instantly fills you with relief. If you weren't already in a state of intense dismay already, a trip to the hospital would cause a hurricane of emotions that left a lasting imprint on everything and everyone around.

"Here, some apple juice. To get your blood sugar back." Alexia places a mug of apple juice in front of you and notices your now bare hand. "Oof, amor, that looks painful. I'm not sure if that may need a doct-"

"No! No doctors, no hospital. It doesn't need stitches, it's fine." You rush out, eyes wide in what Alexia guesses is fear as you look down at where she's crouched again. "Please, no hospital. It just needs to be cleaned and wrapped up."

"Okay, if you are sure." Alexia replies, nudging the cup closer to you. "Drink that and I will get the first aid kit."

You do as she says, drinking the half-empty cup of apple juice whilst she searches through the kitchen for the green box of medical supplies. Her eyes hardly leave your slumped form at the table, filled with worry for you. Things weren't adding up now, it was obvious, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could ignore it.

A part of her feels afraid to push you; emotionally she wants the best for you and if subtly, or not so subtly, urging you to do that works then she'll do it, but intellectually she senses a deep, internalised issue that could rip through you if handled incorrectly. It's not up to her to cause that. So she asks a question that's so layered it flattens all remaining atmosphere in the room.

"Cariño, how do you feel now?" She pretends to busy herself with organising the already packed box of medical necessities you kept.

"Better." Phyiscally true, but mentally wrong.

"Why don't we order something for dinner instead?"

As if you weren't filled with disconcertion already, that suggestion signs, seals, and stamps the envelope set to be sent to the fucking psyche ward for your admission. Were you so inadequate now that you couldn't even cook a simple meal? Apparently so.

"O-Okay."

Alexia frowns and comes back over with alcohol wipes, antiseptic cream, and a box of plasters, placing her items on the table and gently tapping your chin to get you to look up at her.

"I love you, you know that?"

The words fell from her lips before she could stop them. Alexia maybe wasn't the most emotionally helpful person ever but she sure did try. She thought her saying that would comfort at least a small part of you, but she couldn't be more wrong. It planted the seed of an unforgivable idea in your head.

The realisation of what you had to do poured over you like cold water, washing away every ounce of the little remaining hope and positivity you had. A feeling akin to mourning settled in your heart, accompanied by the debilitating weight of this twisted entity in your mind seeping into your bones. Your body strained under the heaviness of it all, unable to capacitate for the burden of living life like this, only confirming that the thing you must do was your only solution. Your lower lip quivered as the thought consumed you, the devil in your head chanting it over and over and over and o-

"I do know." Your lips tug into a smile but your throat bobs to conceal the sobs bubbling at the surface. "I know that. I love you too."

For the remaining time you had with her, you would make sure she knew that too.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

It's silent between you both as she delicately cleans the wound before applying cream and wrapping it up in bandages. It's silent as she leads you to the sofa, silent as she ordered your meal for you from one of the common takeaways you always got together. It's silent as you wait for it to come. It's less silent when Alexia turns on Netflix and opts for a new TV show for you both to watch together. It's still fairly silent even as you sit beside her, back stiff and straight beside the woman whose heart you were soon to break.

Alexia has never loathed quietness more than she does right now. It was an occurrence she valued at any other point in her life; watching football, reading, studying a game, relaxing in a post-match bath, going on a solitary walk to gain some peace of mind. But here, in this moment beside you, her skin crawls at the unbearable stillness of the room. Sure, she did enjoy silence with you too, but it felt like the unavoidable elephant in the room was stomping on her heart with every beat of her heart. There was a hidden agenda in the belly of the beast attacking her, and for some reason it felt like she was running out of time to put out the fire.

Her spiralling was interrupted when the buzzer of your apartment rang through the room, letting you know there was someone outside of the apartment complex without a fob to enter the building. Alexia reluctantly gets up from the sofa to let them in and hovers by the door to wait for the delivery driver to find your flat. She keeps her eyes on you, subtly watching you attentively, but even if she stood face-to-face with you, noses touching and breaths mingling, you wouldn't have a clue she was there. Your senses were incredibly warped and you were so far detached from reality, it felt like you and Alexia were two worlds apart.

What's at stake right now is something that's much bigger than the both of you. The dynamic around you may as well have a 'fragile: handle with care' sticker slapped on it, except, even that wouldn't have stopped the hands of the puppets controlling the world from acting so cruelly. You'd taken constant blows for quite some time now with no respite. Just as you started to recover from one punch, another would come to hit you square in the face.

"Hey." Alexia lightly knocks on your forehead with her knuckle. Every concerned glance from the woman in front of you felt like a jab at your body, slowly working you down until you gave in. "You are here, but you are not here."

You blink gormlessly up at her, your shoulders lifting in a careless shrug before you took back control of your mind.

"Food's here?" You force a smile, taking the paper bag from her hand and walking on shaking legs to the kitchen. You get plates and cutlery out, dishing up your meals before joining Alexia back on the couch, the taller woman now the one seemingly stuck in her head. "Ale, your meal."

"Ah, thank you." She leans in to quickly kiss your cheek when you sit beside her again.

The blonde woman has one more trick up her sleeve to try and bring you out of your shell, and it's one she hardly ever played.

Immediately, she begins to babble on about her day and her teammates and her family and whatever new antics Mapi and the youngsters had got up to, going abnormally overboard with the amount of anecdotes she was spewing out. Everybody knew Alexia was not a talkative person, and she only ever acted like this when she was in a rare giddy mood. And that really was rare.

The Alexia on display so far tonight was not in a giddy mood. She was happy, of course she was, but factor in the concern she'd shown for you tonight and the giddiness she had not portrayed at all even recently, something was off. It threw you completely off-kilter, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why she was doing this.

"I'll tell my Dad about us tomorrow." You blurted out, interrupting another of her rambles. It's kind of the truth, not all of it, and it's not the biggest decision you've made for yourself tonight, but you owed her something at least for putting up with you.

"Que?" She frowns. Out of all things she'd expected you to say tonight, that wasn't one of them.

"You're talking a lot because you want to know why I'm acting weird. It's because I'm thinking about telling my Dad about us, I'm scared to do it but you told Eli so I'll tell my Dad." You explained, pushing your food around your plate as Alexia processes your words for a moment.

"You don't have to do that if you don't want to. I don't mind, I know things haven't been... haven't been great between you both since your Mu-"

"Okay, but he's still my Dad." You cut her off again. You're not in the mood to discuss what she was about to bring up.

"You don't owe him anything, amor. Sure, he's your Dad, but you said it yourself only a few weeks ago; he's an idiot. No one should treat their child the way he's treated you after they've just lost their Mami."

There. She said it anyway.

"Alexia, I know you're just trying to stick up for me, but please don't go there. This has nothing to do with my Mum." Another partial lie.

The subconscious, realistic part of you knows every issue you've had in the last two years has everything to do with... her. But right now, the impulsive side that has been at the forefront of your mind ever since it happened wants to blame everything on the world around you and not your flaws that you've ignored all this time. Anyone could see that your refusal to sit with your grief and just feel was your Achilles' heel.

"Okay. I'm sorry for mentioning it. But I am absolutely on your side, amor, I'm always on your side. So if you want to tell your Dad, tell him. If you want me there next to you or if you want me out of the country whilst you do it, then I'll do it. I will do whatever you want me to." Alexia tells you, her voice pleading as earnest swirled around the eyes that bore down into you.

Well, you thought, that's good to know.

"Thank you." You smile ever so slightly, dropping your fork and placing a hand on her leg. You squeeze her knee three times, one more chance for her to understand the love you held for her.

"De nada, amor. Now eat up, please."

The pair of you spent the rest of the evening delicately dancing around the untamed elephant from earlier whose patience was wearing thin at the prospect of going entirely avoided for the night. Conversation topics were kept light, finally giving you a brief reprieve from the onslaught of your mind, and Alexia kept her arms tight as they wrapped around you. It was as if with each breath you let out or with each twitch of your body, she held on tighter and tighter, every hint of movement from you a reminder of your presence and how much she ineffably adored you.

Yet, the sun began to set, indicating that it was almost time for Alexia to leave for the night. She had to get up early tomorrow whilst you had the day off, and initially Alexia always agreed that when this was the case, you should sleep separately so that you could rest. However, as she collected her bag and slipped on her shoes, she kept her movements purposely slow to delay her departure. The last thing she wanted to do was leave you alone.

"Are you sure you will be okay tonight?" Alexia sighs, a reluctant hand on the door handle.

"I'll be okay." You answer simply, hesitating for a moment to decide on your goodbye gesture, before settling for a lone kiss on the cheek.

"Call me, immediately, if that changes. If you wake up in the night and need me, I will be straight here. If you call me in the middle of training, I will be straight here. Please. Don't suffer on your own."

Oh Alexia. If only you weren't so late.

"Everything will be okay, Ale." You tell her, desperately trying to disguise the emotion threatening to break through. "Te veo pronto, sí?"

"Sí. I love you." Alexia smiles, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then opening the door.

"I know." Is all you can say now to that declaration. And fuck, if Alexia hadn't felt so uneasy in her life after that.

Somehow, you managed to sleep that night. Maybe it was your body allowing you to build up all the strength you need for the day ahead, because your life was about to be irreversibly changed. And the worst was yet to come.

"Hi Dad." You murmur quietly from your place in the corner of your sofa, legs tucked underneath you as you pitifully hold onto a cushion for comfort.

"Well, it's been a while since I've heard from you." The man on the other side of the phone chuckles spitefully. "Remembered who I was again?"

"Hm. How have you been?" The best way to deal with such a man was to ignore his behaviour, in the hopes he dropped the act when you didn't give a reaction. Perhaps you underestimated him.

"That's a loaded question, you know that. It's all everyone asks nowadays and I'm fucking sick of it." He grumbled, and for the first time in a while it sounded like his anger wasn't directed at you.

"I do know that." You stated.

"So why ask then? Still as dense as ever, I see."

Okay, well, clearly you judged him too soon.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing." You mumble insecurely, a frown settling on your face as you try to hold back the emotions you knew would spill out sooner rather than later.

"Don't lie to me." He snapped through gritted teeth. "You couldn't give a shit about me if your life depended on it. Be honest and tell me what you want, I have better things to do than talk to you."

"I... I have a girlfriend, Dad. Here in Barcelona, I've met someone." You reveal with a hint of a smile on your face.

All morning, you'd been in over your head on whether to tell him about Alexia. Part of you thought it was futile since you had already decided on your future with her, or rather, the lack thereof. But the naïve and childish part of you painfully thought he could be happy. That wasn't a concept this man had understood as of late, so it was a wonder why you'd thought he'd be happy for you. Especially given his latest behaviour, and his long-standing opinion on your sexuality. If only your Mother was here.

"Wow. Because I couldn't give you the life you want after your Mum left-" he could never say the true reason for her absence out loud, "-you look for it elsewhere? What did I tell you about doing that? A home can't be a person, kiddo, you need to stop looking for that. Your Mother wasn't home, I'm not home, this new 'girlfriend' isn't home, a person cannot be a fucking home! You're just desperate to fill in the love that's absent in the death of your Mother. Get a fucking grip of yourself and get over it, this 'girlfriend' business. You know your Mum would never have stood for this."

Silence.

Of all the words in the world, across all languages and cultures, over all periods of time, there was only one description to be used of how you felt right now. In your little flat in the heart of Barcelona, cowering in the corner of the couch, you felt suffocated. Any semblance of clarity, peace, hope, love - suffocated, by the words of your father, by the events that had changed you for the worse throughout your life, by the burden of simply just living.

Except, the words 'living' and 'simply' could never be used in the same sentence, because that wasn't a possibility. Every aspect of human nature wasn't simple, that's the beauty in it. The thousands of tiny mechanical functions in your body that allow you to breathe, the hundreds of muscles exerting themselves daily for one small step, the twitches and spasms of nerve endings to feel just a little alive. And despite it only requiring thirteen miniscule muscles to smile compared to forty-seven to frown, the latter felt so much easier. The weight of a smile had never seemed so damning, so suffocating.

The promise of life was a unique one, that's common knowledge and yes, life is beautiful, but any glorification of the struggle of living was inefficacious, nothing could extinguish the flame of the fire inside of your mind that was already uncontrollably burning through your self-preservation. No promise of light one day shining in your world again was worth it; you were merely a shadow of the people you loved.

"Okay Dad." You choke out. Even uttering one word was such a fucking exhausting challenge. "I... I planned on breaking up with her anyway. I think I want to come home."

You expected the feeling of verbalising your plans to be freeing, but the gravity of what you were going to do grounded you so humbly it almost almost stopped your heart entirely.

"Wow, I mean, if I had known that you would listen to my opinion and follow my advice so quick, I would have given it more often." He laughed maliciously, his way of celebrating your fall from grace.

"Can I come home?" You can't stop yourself in time from asking that question in such a begging tone. Another victory for him.

"I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart. If you're that desperate, maybe stay with your grandparents. Perhaps they'll want you." He sighed as he said it as if he was in a rush, acting like speaking to his daughter was such a chore. "Listen kiddo, you done now? I've gotta go."

"Yep, I'm done. Can I see you if I come home?" The question was paired with a hasty swipe away of tears as if the man hundreds of miles away could see them.

"Oh honey. You fascinate me. You're at danger of almost being interesting now, you know that?" He laughed once more at his own words before hanging up.

Silence again. Such a plaguing thing.

The weight of the conversation you just had collapsed down on you, a whirlwind of emotions surging through you as a result of it. Each beat of your heart served as a reminder of every word spat at you from the man you once thought held all the love you had to give, the thump against your chest echoing his disappointment and distaste for you. A daughter's love for their father was undoubtedly one of the most dangerous things to themselves, proving that point yourself as you mentally scrambled to find a way to mend the fractured bond, yet each time coming up empty, feeling powerless and minute in the face of your father's disappointment. Every response from that man carved deep wounds of guilt and regret into every crevice of your mind.

Behind a facade of stoicism, a torrent of emotions fulminated throughout your body - a spiteful mix of every insecurity, every doubt, every shattered dream, it all coming together to form the final piece of the puzzle that was needed to make the decision to break out of your life. There was no other choice.

Outwardly, there wasn't a hint of such breakage shown anywhere on your body. And that's how it had to be, that's how you had to be. Completely numb to it all until you had escaped this turmoil.

By 2pm, everything was different.

Flight booked. Every suitcase you owned bursting at the seams, waiting by the door. Apartment tenancy ripped up. Your resignation handed in to your work. Every bit of furniture, every little trinket, all of it ready to be left behind. Despite it all, the most heartbreaking symbol of your new start, was the cardboard box of Alexia's belongings sat in the passenger seat of your car as you drove, waiting to be dropped off discreetly outside her door.

Your life was the perfect image to sum up how quick things can change. Twenty-four hours ago, you were walking to the local supermarket to pick up the stuff to make a perfect meal for you and your girlfriend to eat and have a quiet, relaxed evening together. Now? You were driving to said girlfriend's apartment, equipped with the words to tear your lives apart.

Oh, how things change.

In the blink of an eye, you were parked up outside her apartment building. You had the key to her apartment in your hand and the code to enter the complex memorised for one more use. You failed to notice her car parked in her usual space as you walked through the car park. The heaviness of the box was nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest of what you were about to do.

Ears ringing, eyes blurred with unshed tears, throat burning and constricted, your bones aching under the weight of purely just existing, all of it immensely overwhelming. But you were numb still. Numb and out of tune with your feelings, because you had to be. Otherwise, all of this couldn't happen. There was no way any of this would be possible if you just listened to what your heart wanted. No, that devil on your shoulder had gotten its way once again.

"Oh, what are you doing here?"

Fuck.

You had truly done it this time, because here Alexia was, standing in the doorway of her apartment as you froze at the sight of her.

"What are you doing here?" You ask frantically, desperately praying for her attention to be anywhere but the box of her stuff in your arms.

"Well, this is my apartment, amor. I just got back from training but I left my phone in my car." Alexia answers, an eyebrow raised down at you. Of course she'd catch on that something was wrong. She always did. It was one of the things you loved her for. "What's this? Are you a delivery driver now?"

She laughs to herself as she says it, taking the box from your arms and placing it on the floor. You're still stuck to the spot, eyes wide in fear at what she was about to find, and your heart thumps angrily against your chest in protest, trying to get you to react in some way. But it's too late. Alexia has already opened the box and began to read the letter in there before you could stop her.

The smile on her face immediately dissipates at the first line.

"To Ale, I'm sorry... what do you mean?" She asks, glancing up at you briefly before continuing to read it.

That's when your body finally decides to react. You slowly back away from the woman in front of you, but Alexia grabs your wrist tightly to stop you from running away.

"No, you will not leave my sight right now. Explain this fucking letter, what is going on?" Alexia attempts to sound commanding, but there's a certain glisten to her eyes and a lump in her throat. "What is going on? Tell me, now, please."

"I... I'm sorry, Alexia." You croak out, rushing to wipe the tears already falling with the sleeve of your sweater. "I am sorry, you have to know that."

"Sorry about what!?" Alexia shouts, then takes a deep breath to compose herself momentarily. "Come inside, sit down, and please can we talk?"

"Everything I have to say is in the letter, Alexia, I-"

"No, no it is not. This letter is hardly a whole page. You've come to my apartment with a box of my stuff and a letter that starts with the words 'I'm sorry', I'm not letting you leave." Alexia says, and you have no choice but to listen to her. However, she softens for a moment, and the lost look on her face tugs on every one of your heart strings. She takes one of your hands and squeezes it three times, resulting in another stream of tears from yourself. "Please. Whatever is going on, give us a chance to solve it. I need you to explain what's happened so I can help you, amor. Please."

You relent easily, forever at her mercy, and follow her into her apartment. She leaves the stacked box by the front door, completely unbothered by it - in fact, she doesn't ever want to look inside it if this conversation goes the way she thinks it'll go. She's kicking herself mentally, her mind already skimming over every interaction she's had with you recently, desperately trying to plot a point in time where your attitude had changed. It's easy for her to do so, the moment jumps out almost immediately. If only she hadn't been so scared, so cautious, maybe she could have solved this before it was too late.

"What do you want me to say, Ale?" You sigh exasperatedly as you sit on the edge of her sofa, eyes fixated on your fidgeting hands.

"What do I want you to say? Amor, I want you to be honest and explain why you're sorry, why you've come over with all my stuff, why you've written me this letter. It's all come out of nowhere, I have no idea what's going on and I just want you to clue me in. Yesterday we were laughing together and having a nice evening, and now you're... I don't even want to say it." Alexia laughs nervously as she speaks, her shoulder stuck up in a shrug as her hands gesture eratically.

"It's okay, I'll say it for you." Your false facade takes over, body armoured with a hard exterior. "I'm leaving, Ale. I'm leaving Barcelona, leaving Spain."

To hear you say those words were perhaps the greatest pain Alexia has ever felt in her life.

"Leaving... leaving me?" She whispers quietly, the question punctuated with a gulp as she swallows her emotions.

She sounds eerily similar to a young, innocent child who's just lost all they've ever known. It makes you wonder for a brief second if you're a sick individual for causing such pain, but you shun those thoughts away for a later date, because right now you need all the feigned courage you can muster up.

"Yes." The ease with which you say it sends shivers down her spine. It's the hardest sentence you've ever had to say, and it's just one word - once more an example of how life can never be conformed to simplicity.

"Why are you being so cold? This is not the woman I know." Alexia practically pleads, inching closer to you on the sofa. Her hands land on your knees, but you're too far in to back out now.

"I don't know who I am anymore, Alexia. I need time and space to figure my shit out, that's what is best for me right now and that's why I have to go." She scoffs in your face once you've finished, and that's the moment this conversation goes far more downhill you could have expected.

"What about me? What about what's best for me? You're leaving me behind!"

"Leaving you behind? You're acting like a sad dog that I've just abandoned in the middle of nowhere! You were perfectly fine in your life, your very successful and established life might I add, before I came along and you'll be better off without me!" You snap back. This is not the direction you thought this would go. "Why can't you accept the fact I need to leave?"

"Because I fucking love you! I love you and I don't want to live a life that doesn't have you in it! But maybe I should grow out of that opinion since it seems so easy for you to turn off your feelings for me, so easy for you to be so selfish at the flick of a switch."

"Selfish? I'm being selfish?" You repeat her words back to her with an outraged laughter that sounds all too familiar to you. Is this who you've turned into? "I'm being selfish for choosing what's best for me? I'm being selfish for wanting to take time on my own to figure my life out? I'm being selfish for wanting to take time to grieve my own, dead Mother?"

Alexia's face falls as soon as those words come out of your mouth. Never in her life had a sentence caused such a visceral reaction from her because it feels like someone's just plunged a dagger right into her heart. She'd been too panicked, too focused, on her own feelings to even wonder why you had made this decision. She had been the selfish one for jumping to conclusions and now her lethal arguments had completely tanked the conversation. The possibility that there was no coming back from her vicious assumptions instilled a deeper, darker fear in her than she had ever felt in her life.

"No, no, I didn't-" She begins to dig herself out of the hole she finds herself in, but you're in no mood to entertain her begging.

"Good one. Really funny, that." You stand up and go to walk away, but not without one last attempt from Alexia to stop you.

"I didn't mean that, I swear, I am just so confused and scared and-"

"Do you not think I'm scared too? This will be the second time I've uprooted my life and regretted everything I have ever done. I'm terrified to leave, terrified to find out what's waiting for me at home, terrified to figure maybe this is all I am and that there's no better side of myself to find." Your voice trembles with a mix of fear and fury. "I've realised that throughout our whole relationship, from the moment I stepped into this country, I've been someone that I'm not. Losing my Mum was losing the biggest part of myself, and everything I've done from then 'til now has just been a poor attempt at filling in the hole in my heart-"

"S-so, what, you're saying our relationship was fake?" Alexia splutters out. You pause at her words, completely caught off-guard by her utterly stupid and inept fight back.

"That's what you caught from all that?" You ask, dumbfounded. "Right. Because it's always about you, Alexia, isn't it? This whole conversation has just been you talking about yourself. Have you even properly heard what I've said? Have you read more than the first line of my letter?" The guilty look on her face says it all. "That's what I thought."

"But I... I know what it's like to lose a parent, amor, I can help you!"

"Wow. For the sake of us both, don't go there, Alexia. Don't." You fix her a warning glare, shaking your arm out of the grasp of her hand.

"You can't leave. You can't, I won't let you. It's not right." She speaks sternly again now, a final plea for your relationship.

"Oh, fuck off Alexia. You have the emotional maturity of a teenage boy. I'm done with this now. Good luck at the World Cup this summer."

You walk out and slam her door shut without looking back.

Alexia's life had just taken a nosedive, because a breakup was absolutely not on her agenda for the day. The hand that had grabbed your arm earlier tingled with the stain of your touch and certain areas of the room were tainted by the lingering scent of your perfume. One conversation and you had vanished from her life - an excruciating result caused by her own incompetency to act like a decent human being.

For some time after you had left, she had been stuck rooted to her sofa, her mental temporarily ruined by the events of the day. A traumatic event had occurred, this was a natural reaction, to go into shock. To be so damaged by something that all she could do was sit and be consciously unconscious to the world around her until her body and mind could recover.

There was one phrase that ran circles around her mind. It isn't fair. What that defiance was directed at, she wasn't so sure yet. At first it had been you, but as the clouds cleared a little, it was obvious that it wasn't. Despite her words earlier and how accusing they came out, she didn't blame you. Not one bit. No, her anger was aimed at the so called 'fate' bullshit that everyone championed so often. How can people praise such a phenomenon when it had brought so much evil into people's lives? It felt like everything came at the price of something, and that's not fair.

For Alexia? It felt like her career came with the price of her Father. Everything she had done was because of him, and he couldn't even be here to see it. No, because fate or destiny or whatever other nickname it had, had taken that opportunity away from her. It isn't fair. For you? If anyone asked you, in the future when you're in your rocking chair, a knitted blanket draped over you and the waves of the ocean lapping away in front of your eyes, you'd say that in this period of time you had gained the world for the price of your soul. This dichotomy of good and evil sometimes felt like it wasn't worth the fight because in cases like this, it just wasn't fair.

The realisation of it all left a sour taste in Alexia's mouth. But something seemed to snap in her, some higher power finally giving her a backbone, and she sprung into action. You didn't deserve any of the stuff that had happened to you, and she sure as hell wasn't going to be another name on that list. One of her worst fears, a view shared by all of humanity, was to remember someone she loved in such a gut-wrenchingly awful way that it tarnished her entire memory of them. That's something she couldn't do with you. If you were to end this, it had to be on good terms.

So, she grabbed her keys and headed down to her car, where her phone still was. Alexia was a determined woman; when she put her mind to something, she got it done. This would be no different.

Call after call, after call, after call, came through on your phone from the one woman you probably least expected. There was only so long you could hold her off because, after all, you were once in a relationship with the woman, meaning you got a front row seat to her persistance.

"Hi, uh, Alexia. What do you want?" You say when you answer, finally.

"We have to talk more." Alexia rushes out quickly, for lack of better words and composure.

"I don't know if I want that after what happened earlier." You state in a defensive tone. But secretly, you craved nothing more.

"I know, and I am so so sorry for all that. It was so selfish and awful of me, I regretted every word that came out of my mouth the second I said it. I just... can we talk again? Please?" She begs, her hand fidgeting against the steering wheel of her car as tears silently rolled down her cheeks. "I would hate myself if I didn't at least try for this, amor, let me try."

"The decision is final, Ale, you can't change it. I'm sorry. You said yesterday that you would do whatever I wanted you to do. Well, this is what I need you to do, Alexia. I need you to let me go."

"Okay." Alexia squeezes her eyes shut, tears spilling out the corners, and her clenched fist comes to rest against her forehead. "Can I see you one more time? So I can properly apologise? I have no other intentions than that, I promise. I just... I can't remember you that way. I can't remember us in the way we left it. It doesn't give us as people any respect and it does not do justice to the beauty of our relationship."

That was the tipping point for you. There's the woman you love.

"Okay." You smile and sit up in your bed where you previously lay in a cocoon of your own pity. "How about we meet on neutral grounds this time?"

"Let's do that." Alexia responds, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

Some time later, you found yourself walking along the promenade of the beach, looking for where Alexia said she was seated on one of the benches. It was a chilly evening with no help from the sea, so you had your hands tucked into your coat pockets and your chin hidden under the zip of your coat. Alexia had spotted you long ago, a content smile on her face at the all too familiar sight of you and your distaste for the cold. You recognise her soon after, taking a deep breath before approaching her.

"Hi." You mumble, muffled by your jacket and the wind whipping around you. Alexia hears it of course.

"Hi. Sit down, please?" Alexia taps her hand on the wooden slats of the bench beside her, and you quickly follow suit. "I, uh... got you this."

She hands over a takeaway cup of hot chocolate. Your favourite.

"Thank you. Something to keep my hands warm." You say, happy to see her laugh quietly and nod.

"Exactly why I got it."

The pair of you sit in silence for a while, encapsulated by the serenity of the sky and the elegance of the ocean. Strangely, you realise, the two things resemble you and Alexia. Two things of beauty that never quite meet, never quite mend, just a parallel that reflects each other. You can't tell if that's a horrifying allusion or a calming one.

"So, what's this then, a... a post-mortem of our relationship?" You joke, giggling when Alexia scrunches her nose at the suggestion.

"I mean... you could say that." She shudders as she says it, not quite at peace with the new revelation. She's not sure she ever will be.

"I have to go, Alexia. I... it's so hard leaving you behind. It's the hardest decision I've ever made, but it's one I have to make. I hope you know that."

"I do. I do know that. I want you to know I understand. I'll never be... content with it, but... it's a necessary evil." Alexia has her eyes cast down on her coffee cup, fiddling with the lid. You notice and take hold of one of her hands, intertwining your fingers perhaps for one final time.

"It is. I've got no energy to fight anymore. I need to sit with my emotions and all that shit," You pause as you sigh dramatically, making her laugh once more. "So that I can figure out who I am after all this. Doing that whilst in a relationship isn't fair on either of us. It'll only lead to something more soul destroying, no matter how hard this conversation is."

"I know." Alexia purses her lips and nods, finding the strength to look at you. A genuine smile breaks out onto her face. "I had a feeling something was wrong a little while ago. I guess I'm just... angry. That I can't solve it."

"I'm angry that I can't solve it." You repeat, a sad smile on your face. "There's just a lot wrong with me, I think. And I can't burden you with it all. I have a lot of baggage I drag along and there's an awful lot of cracks in my mind-"

"There's cracks in everything, amor, that's how the light shines in."

You had half a mind to berate her for interrupting you again, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Why were you leaving this woman again?

"I'll value you forever, Ale. Nothing could make me change that, even if we left things at what happened before. You're the most astounding person I've ever met, and even when I'm breaking your heart, you still treat me better than anyone else. If we forget what happened at your apartment." You tease, the both of you chuckling lightly.

"It's hard to hate you when you're breaking my heart so gently." Alexia states. "I'll always love you. It's probably not the right thing to say but it's the truth."

"No, I... I'll always love you too." You respond, absolutely certain. Despite the predicament you both find yourselves in, Alexia finds every bit of relief and closure she could ever need in that one simple sentence.

"When do you... when do you leave?" She asks with a sniffle.

"I fly out later tonight." You answer quietly.

"Will you come back one day?" It's the one thing she knows she probably shouldn't say, but she can't resist. She has to know.

"I don't know, to be honest." She turns away and nods slowly. You squeeze her hands three times.

"If you do, will you let me know?"

You can't promise her that, and she knows it.

"I will." You smile softly up at her.

You both fall into silence once more. This one feels a little less suffocating than those of the past. There's still so much more to say, but as your head falls to rest on Alexia's shoulder and you both look out at the view that had been the background of your relationship, neither of you can name a reason to interrupt the peace that's settled. It's perhaps more peace than either of you had felt in a long time.

The thing is, about the ocean and the sky, is that they do meet. They're one and the same in their own essence, and in the distance, they do eventually meet. And the sun will rise again. Two inevitable occurrences that form at the hands of a little thing called fate. Or destiny. Or whatever it is.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso community #woso imagine

[mokulule]

Almanac - Chapter 1

Fandom: DP x DC Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Masterpost Summary: Summoning extradimensional beings was never without a cost. Jason didn’t consider himself particularly knowledgeable when it came to magic, but that he knew. Desperate situations however called for desperate measures and the Justice League was desperate with Trigon suddenly allied to ghosts of all things. Summoning the Ghost King in that context even seemed like a sensible choice.

For better or worse John Constantine was the expert on those kinds of deals.

At least when his information wasn’t out of date.

Chapter 1 - September 23rd Fall Equinox

The summoning circle blazed in tall green flames. John grit his teeth against the terrible heat. Sweat ran down his brow, but he barely even dared blink. Across from him Zatanna was equally affected. This was like no summoning he’d ever done before. Normally the circle and the ingredients in a summoning ritual would do most of the work, that was the whole point. But this, John thought, as he doubled down on his hold on the magic, this was like riding a dragon. It was almost like the Ghost King really didn’t want to be summoned.

What else could cause this?

But they couldn’t give up, the fate of the world depended on it. Zatanna was not looking good, John didn’t suppose he himself was looking chipper either right now, but he had done things to increase his magic power Zatanna never had, because she was too good, and she was flagging. John growled, he’d be dammed a hundred more times if he lost her to this ritual.

Come on you bloody bastard!

A green rip opened in the middle of the circle with a terrible screeching sound. There was yelling and ears being covered behind him by the Justice League, but John couldn’t focus on that, it was not over. They were nearly there. A flickering dark shadowy form was getting sucked upwards through the rip. Wind rushed around the room, throwing papers and small objects around the room; The bucket of stag blood they’d used for the circle splattered onto Green Lantern judging by the sound of disgust. As long and tiresome as the ritual had been as suddenly it was over. Like an elastic band finally snapping, the shadow was pulled all the way through, the rip closed and the flames died.

“ ̵̨̜̩̜̖͈̺͈͎̜̩̻̖͔̗̺̳̘͈̳̖̩͂̄̏̇͂̂̃͒͌̊̓́̿̽̽̀̚͜ ̶̧̡̢̜̯̘͔̺̻̖͚͚͍̪̼͙̲̭͌͛̈́̈́̆̀͝N̵̢̢̧͓̩̱̮̰̪̘͙̹͍̪̤̼̺̑̀̓̔̔̍̂̍͛̈̈́͋͛͆̆͌̌̃̀̄̕Ơ̵̡̱͕̬͕͎̞̞̟͔͇̽̀́̇̐̂͂́̈́̈́̾͜͠ͅ ̷̢͖̯̰̙̥̤͔̹̜̦̙͙̲̪̲̯̗̙̦͓̜̓̋̂͋͘̚͝ ̶̭̺̣̻͖͗̍̔͂ ̶̡̰̞̹͇͓̫̜͖͛́̀̒̃͆̀͑́̅̂͌̿͐̚͝͝.”

The word rung in the sudden silence like a bell, cracked like glaciers, skittered across their mortal senses like small needles. John fell to his knees clutching his chest. It was so cold it was hard to breathe. Teeth chattering he forced himself to look up. The shadow coalesced into something with too long limbs, too many joints, claws, teeth. It had gained a blazing white flame and underneath there were two pools of green.

It observed them with an intensity like a thousand eyes on them, then it drew in on itself, getting smaller until it was more person shaped and the cold disappeared.

John gasped in relief. He wasn’t the only one. He looked to Zatanna, she met his eyes with a pale and tense nod. She was alright.

“Aaaaargh!” The frustrated scream had them quickly focused back on the circle. The green pools, now more eye shaped glared back at them all.

“The fucking Justice League of course, who else would summon me to save the world?” The shadow for lack of better words paced back and forth in the air, then spun on John. “And you John Constantine should know better.”

There was a pool of dread in his stomach and every single backup plan vanished from his mind as those toxic green eyes held him trapped. “If you have a problem that calls for the assistance of a ghost, why do you not ask a ghost you know? Why in the Realms would you summon the Ghost King? Of all the bullheaded…” The angry words devolved into an angry growly mutter too low for anyone to hear the words, but it was a sound that grated in their bones. And the Ghost King resumed their pacing.

“Deadman is-“

“I’m talking about Phantom,” the king snapped.

“Phantom?” John repeated baffled, meeting the equally baffled eyes of Zatanna. The friendly spirit from small Amity Park? “No offense, your Majesty, but Phantom is small fry compared to this.”

“Full offense,” The King growled. “I am Phantom.”

With a bright flash, suddenly there was Phantom. The surprisingly human looking ghost, who would have fit in perfectly amongst the Justice League standing outside the circle with his white highlighted tight black suit and the logo on his chest. Right now his usually friendly face was drawn into a glare.

It was then, when it clicked with a small delay in his brain that Phantom was the Ghost King, that John Constantine realized how much he’d fucked up.

Oo o oO

Danny was livid. He had done his very best to resist this summoning, but of course summonings weren’t meant to be resisted and with John Constantine and Zatanna Zatara two of the Justice League Dark’s most powerful magic users being the ones reeling him in like a fucking fish, it was no wonder he hadn’t succeeded. This was a disaster. Why did they put him in this situation?

“We thought you were a city spirit…” Constantine trailed off helplessly.

And that had Danny gaping. They thought… how? why? He was confused, but most of all-

“Excuse me, did I introduce myself as Amity? No, I did not.”

Of all the stupid things to think. City spirits were some of the proudest ghosts around, to even think a city spirit would introduce themselves by anything other than their name was beyond moronic. And last he checked his hometown wasn’t called freaking Phantomville.

“We thought, since you never left the city-“ Zatanna cut herself off when Danny swiveled his glare on her.

“It. Is. My. Haunt,” Danny hissed enunciating each word clearly, the lights in the room flickered. “Did you not at all think it was weird that a city spirit-“ he made quotation marks around the words- “was visible to regular people?”

“We figured it was because of all the death magic in the air,” fucking Constantine said and Danny keened in despair. It was a sound just at the edge of human hearing, and most of them really couldn’t hear anything of it aside from a very high pitched tone that had the entire group flinching. Superman though, not only flinched but also took a step back covering his mouth, he looked sick.

“You could have asked, like normal people. What did I do to give you the impression you couldn’t just ask?” He dug his hands into his hair and tugged, doubled over and took a deep calming breath.

“Okay,” he forced his voice chipper, “so we’ve established you’re morons and now you’re all going to pay the price.”

There was a moment of silence as they all took that in and Danny’s eyes ran over their faces: Constantine, Zatanna, the big seven of the original Justice League and would you look at that Batman brought a bunch of his brood along, one of which was an actual child. Danny whimpered.

“I don’t really understand the problem,” the Flash stepped up to the circle in, well, a flash. “If you can help us then what does it matter that we summoned you instead of going to you?”

“It matters,” Danny said rubbing the bridge of his nose, “because you’ve gone and made it official. You didn’t ask small time ghost hero Phantom for help saving the world, you went and summoned the High King of the Infinite Realms.” He waved a hand allowing the green flaming crown to manifest over his head and the ring to appear on his right hand, the long starry night cape settled over his shoulders with a familiar weight like freshly fallen snow.

“The fact that I am one and the same is irrelevant. Intent is the most important thing in magic.”

“So we can just unsummon you?” The Flash suggested, looking from Danny to Constantine and Zatanna who both looked away.

Danny chuckled humorlessly. He touched a hand to his chest pushing energy into the chains binding him, so they could all see the chains going from him to each and everyone of them.

“We are already bound in a pre-contract, that’s what a summoning is.”

Oo o oO

Jason looked down at the Lazarus green glowing chain, going from his chest to the Ghost King. From each of his brothers including the brat’s - the brat, who actually looked scared. No matter, his maturity and upbringing he was still just a kid. Anger flared in his chest, but before he could do anything Bruce stepped forward.

“John, what is the meaning of this,” he demanded. To the League, that was just the gruff Batman voice. To Jason and the birds, the undertone of fear was obvious. Nothing set the old man off like a threat to his birds. Jason would know, he’d taken advantage of that before.

Constantine grimaced, “well, you see-“

But the Ghost King interrupted him. “No, let me explain. John Constantine is the greatest con man that ever lived. He could sell sand in the Sahara. He’s swindled demons and gods alike. He’s somehow managed to sell his soul like fifty fucking times, making the day of his eventual death into a jurisdictional nightmare of interdimensional proportions.”

He paused to take another deep breath - something Jason noticed with bemusement was a bit strange for a ghost.

“Ol’ Johnny here probably expected Pariah Dark, the previous Ghost King, the kind of mad hat conquerer who’s been locked up for millennia for unspeakable crimes against the Realms - just the kind of proud, single minded sod that’s ripe for John’s kind of swindling. Whose only spells of freedom came from summonings like this, which were thankfully rare, ‘cause very few people are stupid enough to summon the Ghost King.”

“But me-” he touched his chest, “there’s a reason I’m not locked in a sarcophagus. For one I don’t deal in souls or eternal damnation, secondly even if I did I wouldn’t touch that soul of yours with a ten feet pole.”

“Congratulations, Jackass, you managed to summon the actually ruling Monarch of the World In Between Worlds at full power and there’s absolutely nothing you can offer me. I deal in equivalent exchange. Nothing matters to you as much as the world, except your own skin and your ownership of that is questionable at best. That leaves your… friends? Or coworkers? Is that what they are? to pay.”

And with that the King turned to them all, green eyes both angry and resigned.

“Better start thinking about what things you’re willing to give up, I’ll be friendly and let your offerings stack, the world is heavy enough as it is.”

An unsettled murmur rustled through the assembled heroes. It was one thing to sacrifice in the heat of battle, but this was something none of them had prepared for. They had all expected Constantine to handle things, they all were just present for safety’s sake. It was certainly why Jason was there or he wouldn’t have been in same room as the heroes.

Ever since his revival he’d had somewhat of a magic resistance and the All Blades were the best bet if something went south. That had been the idea at least, but this had gone south in the entirely different direction. And, Jason suspected, the All Blades probably wouldn’t even work on the king. The impression Jason got from him wasn’t evil at all; he had purposefully directed their thoughts in the direction of physical possessions.

With the room stalled in uncertainty, Jason felt anger rising. They were wasting time when the solution was obvious. He’d said he didn’t deal in souls or eternal damnation that still left a wide range of interpretation to Jason’s thinking.

“Oi, Spooky!” He stepped forward tilting his head up in challenge, “You can have me, - a willing sacrifice gotta be worth a good deal.”

There were gasps all around him but he didn’t look just kept eye contact with those glowing Lazarus eyes as they turned to him in consideration.

The was a sudden cacophony of protest from his brothers, hands grabbing onto him pulling him back but he stood his ground.

“J-Hood, back down right now!” That was Bruce’s voice and for a moment there, it was almost like he actually cared, but then he was just ordering him about like usual. Then Dick was in front of him and even he couldn’t ignore that.

“Jay, no,” he hissed lowly horrified, “what’s the matter with you?”

The was a small tug in Jason’s chest at that.

“He said he didn’t deal in souls,” Tim pointed out urgently.

“Todd,” was everything Damian said, but there was a vulnerability there that was rarely in the little brat’s voice.

Jason couldn’t help but smile. It was heartening that they cared at least a little. He set a hand down on Damian’s head and ruffled his hair roughly. “Take care of my books, brat.”

“NO,” That was Dick, and he held on tighter, Jason couldn’t shrug him off, but as it turned out he didn’t have to.

There was a tug on the chain in his chest and he slipped right through his brothers and flew right up to the king inside the circle until he hovered level with the Lazarus green eyes.

The was a cacophony of protest but it was somehow muted like background noise from here inside the circle and yet the crackling fire of the crown was loud in his ears. The inhuman Lazarus eyes flickered from Jason then behind him and then back again.

“You offer your life to the High Ghost King as a sacrifice?”

Jason shuddered, felt fear grip him at the wording, because that was what it meant. Truthfully he didn’t want to die, but he’d been there and he’d done that, and if he was to die again, at least those eyes held no cruelty. He was the obvious choice. He clenched his jaw and steeled his resolve, the world would do fine without him.

“I do.” There was a momentary frown like regret on the king’s face before he looked to the wider room.

“Then with the consequences of that we have a deal, and I, High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, will save the world.” The chains leading to everyone but Jason burst into showers of tiny green stars.

“Come.” A white gloved hand was reached out to him, deceptively human if it wasn’t for the glow. Jason took the hand and next he knew the world turned into a green swirl.

The world solidified suddenly like a punch to the gut and Jason fell to his knees in loose sand. He gagged, but nothing came up from his empty stomach. Slowly he looked up, they were in the desert. In the distance was the nightmarish portal to the Dark Dimension Trigon’s forces were coming through. If only Raven hadn’t been hurt so early in the fight, but Trigon was working with someone else, someone Constantine had claimed was a powerful ghost and the combined forces were not something they had been prepared for. Even so there were heroes in the distance trying to hold back the hordes.

“What are we doing here?” He looked up to the King who was floating just half a foot off the ground and he was suddenly aware of the fact that he was kneeling.

“Figured the least I could do is show you that I uphold my end of the bargain. Stay here, this distance should be safe.”

With that the Ghost King flew off.

Jason had half a mind to try escaping, but as the first punch was thrown in the distance the futility settled in his gut. At least he could enjoy the show.

Oo o oO

“Daniel,” Vlad greeted him in his typical self satisfied drawl, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Danny’s lips split in a grin. He wouldn’t be so satisfied in a moment. He flashed forward throwing a punch that sent Vlad into a crater in the ground. He looked down at the man who at one point had been his nemesis. Now he just looked sad and confused.

“I think you’ll find you miscalculated this time, Plasmius.”

Finally Vlad actually seemed to register that Danny was wearing the full regalia and what that meant. His face paled to white.

“No, your Majesty, please, have mercy,” he begged, folding instantly - pitiful.

Danny snarled, fangs and limbs growing and growing with sickening cracks, like the frozen surface of a lake when you’ve stepped too far. He was the darkness of space itself, too many mouths split into white fanged grins.

“A line was crossed today.” His words reverberated across the field halting all the combatants in place as terror gripped them. “You have been warned time and time again. Now a price has been paid, a deal has been made and you shall reap what you have sown.”

With that he swept across the battlefield dark and all encompassing leaving only the heroes standing cold and shaken as he pushed Trigon’s army and Vlad and his panicking ghost minions back into the Dark Dimension.

The portal closed behind him when he willed it.

The large horned guy in the armor who was shouting in outrage had to be Trigon. The Ghost King was bound in contract to save the world from this threat. He could technically stop now, the threat was ended they had no portal and those were not simple to make, but was the world really saved when Trigon still stood and his army was still whole?

No, the Ghost King did not think so.

It had been a very stressful morning. He would very much enjoy taking it out on these fools.

Oo o oO

It didn’t take long before the Ghost King reappeared, thankfully looking more human, though there was still a wild glint in his eyes as if the beast hadn’t quite been sated.

“It’s done then.” Jason said with resignation. The green eyes blinked down at him slowly and again a white gloved hand was offered as if Jason had any real choice in the matter. Annoyance that he wouldn’t just get things over with rose up and Jason grabbed the hand with more aggression than was maybe wise.

All he got in return was a bemused look, as if he was less threatening than a kitten. Which arguably, compared to the eldritch monarch of the death, he probably was.

The world turned into a green swirl again. When the world solidified he found that traveling this way didn’t get easier a second time. He was down on his hands and knees in plush red carpet, his stomach turned nauseously. Shit it felt like he really would puke this time.

Suddenly a cool hand touched his forehead, somehow easing enough of the nausea that he could look up.

The king was kneeling in front of him, a worried look on his face. And that had anger rising in Jason’s chest, because how dare he.

“Why don’t you just get it over already?”

Black eyebrows rose.

“Get it over with?” He had the audacity to ask.

“Just kill me already, stop playing with me.”

Any leftover amusement went out of the Ghost King’s face at that.

“Why would I kill you?” He asked flatly.

“Because I gave you my life? What else would it mean!"

"Your life belonging to me, does not mean I have to kill you, in fact that would be rather stupid of me.”

“What difference does it make? Aren’t you the king of the dead!”

The King shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t own my subjects. Death is the one thing that will free you from me.”

Jason paled, he hadn’t considered this. The Ghost King had said he didn’t deal in souls or eternal damnation, but a human life wasn’t eternal - hadn’t he himself thought there was a lot of leeway in those statements?

“No no no, I’m gonna stop you there, you look like I ate your favorite pair of slippers.”

Jason blinked, startled out of his spiraling train of thought by the sheer absurdity.

“Is that something you have experience with?”

“You’ll never know.” The king grinned back at him teeth definitely sharp enough to rip slippers to pieces. His features turned serious. “Now you listen closely. You did not offer your mind-“ he poked Jason’s forehead firmly- “your body, your soul or your service-“ he underscored each of the last three words with a poke to Jason’s chest.

He got up to his feet.

“All I own in capacity of King is your life. And so your life will be lived here with me, that is all. Wording is very important in magic.” With those words he strode down the hall, cape flaring out behind him.

Jason was left on the floor, mind reeling.

“You changed the wording,” Jason realized, because he had offered himself - all of him being implied. But the Ghost King had changed the wording when they made the deal. He jumped to his feet to catch up. It’s wasn’t hard, the Ghost King was actually rather short when he deigned to touch the ground.

“You changed the wording,” Jason repeated firmly, “you-“

“I already told you I’m not into the soul trade. Nor do I want any slaves, there’s enough of that mess leftover from the previous king.”

He grimaced at that.

He wouldn’t kill him. He’d changed the wording, so Jason’s will was his own. He wasn’t a servant or slave, or a soldier or anything. “So what then?”

“What then?” The king stopped and looked back at Jason bewildered.

“You own my life and you have no plan or purpose for me, what am I gonna do?”

His eyebrows drew down in a frown but Jason was not done. Indignation burned hot in his chest.

“If you are not going to kill me or have any use for me, why even bring me here? You could own my life just as easily in Gotham as you can here!”

There was a rumble, it sounded like it was in the distance but somehow Jason knew it was from the ghost king in front of him. His legs suddenly felt unsteady.

“You are here,” the King growled, “because idiots decided to summon me and you and your family are paying the toll for saving the world.”

The anger turned to ice in his chest. “My family, what do you mean?”

“I mean, Jason Todd, that you mean the world to them and if it wasn’t for that your sacrifice wouldn’t have been enough, you think too little of yourself for that.”

What? No! That couldn’t be right?

“You’re lying,” he whispered. It couldn’t be true. Jason was the one paying the price, not his family. It couldn’t be.

The Ghost King snarled, morphing into sharp shadows and glowing eyes.

“You dare,” his voice boomed from all around Jason and he clapped his hands over his ears.

“I have stretched-” he seemed to grow longer and longer into spindlier shadows, chittering and cracking, “stretched, as far as I can on this deal and you call me a liar!”

The last word rumbled through Jason’s bones like a bulldozer and he fell to his knees. Nothing existed for Jason in that moment but the pain and the voice- he had nothing left to do anything with, he could neither protest or apologize. Only feel and hear despite plugging his ears.

“You summoned me! I did not ask to be cast as a villain in your Saturday morning cartoon!”

The temperature plummeted and there was something like a mournful wail in the distance, then a long spindly arm opened a door in the wall. Jason could have sworn it wasn’t there a moment ago, but honestly up could be down right now and he wouldn’t know. His teeth clattered and he desperately wanted to wrap his arms around his body, but dared not move them from his ears.

“Your room,” the King spat. The tapestries on the wall melted slowly together with his shadows.

“You may move around the castle, but don’t go into the west wing, those are my rooms, and don’t go into the dungeons - for your own sake.” He disappeared in a short flash of light.

Jason’s ears popped as pressure and temperature returned to normal and he gasped as if he hadn’t breathed for several minutes. Maybe he hadn’t. He couldn’t remember.

His mind was reeling, unable to comprehend, to process, what had happened. Words, he didn’t know them, but the King’s voice felt engraved onto his bones.

Beyond the doorway was a bed. A bed, he turned the concept around in his head as if it was a strange new thing, despite that he knew he should know the concept.

Slowly he picked himself up. With every staggered step, he felt more and more worried he would just melt into the carpet, but finally he fell down on top of soft covers.

Bed good.

-

Next

We are not talking about the fact that this is another wip... >.> I wanted to do something for Trauma Tuesday, but in the end I'm too tired, and then Clock suggested it would be Trauma Lite Tuesday, so that's what we're going for XD I don't tag people, if you want to follow the story please subscribe to the handy masterlist/subscription post

#Almanac #dp x dc #dead on main #summonings have consequences #trauma tuesday #though more like #trauma lite tuesday

[hunterwritings]

𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 | 𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍

summary: bi-han comes home wounded, trying his best to keep it from you warnings: mention of blood/laceration, stitching notes: i can only think of writing for bi-han rn 😭

You knew that Bi-han was hot-headed, ironically. You knew that he liked to fight and even though he would most likely win, he would still have battle scars.

It was something you expected, but never looked forward to. Bi-han has a problem being vulnerable and asking for help, so whenever he would get injured in battle he would do his best to hide it from you. Sometimes he'd get away with it and you'd eventually find out after the fact, but sometimes he's a bad liar.

It was the middle of the night when Bi-han stumbled into the temple, his brothers at his side. "Please brother, let us-" Tomas began before Bi-han shut him down. "I can deal with my own wounds." He beckons as he pushes them off and begins walking to your bedroom, holding a hand at his side. "He will be fine Tomas, the pain of us helping him would cause more damage than the wound itself." Kuai Liang reassures his younger brother as they turn and return to their own rooms to rest.

A small groan falls from Bi-han's lips as he rips the mask off his face, his teeth grinding together. He swiftly opened the door of your shared bedroom, trying his best to not wake you. As he quietly shuts the door, he turns back to see you sleeping peacefully on your side of the bed. A sigh of relief fell from his mouth at the sight of you, just knowing you were safe was enough to put him at ease.

His eyes darted to the bathroom, thinking that he could make his way there and clean up, while being quiet enough to not wake you. Bi-han would be lying if he said it wasn't difficult with the large wound at his side, but he would rather die than admit that. He took a breath before slowly beginning to walk towards the bathroom, a small wince caught in his teeth as his hand shot to his side.

As if you had super sonic hearing, you tossed in bed and turned your body to face him as your eyes slowly begin to open. Once you saw the shadowy figure in the dark, you quickly sat up. As you realized it was Bi-han, your heart began to relax for a moment. "I didn't think you were going to be so late." You whisper, still half asleep. "We ran into some trouble, it was a quick fight." He bluntly tells you, relieved you weren't able to see his wounded body in the dark. His relief is quickly gone when you reach over and turn on the soft light next to your bed. Your eyes instinctively shut as you held a hand over your eyes and try your best to focus on Bi-han. When your eyes adjust as best they could, you finally noticed the dark red on his blue uniform.

"What happened!?" You ask, now awake and pushing the covers off of your body.

Bi-han just groans before quickly walking into the bathroom. He tries to shut the door on you, but you quickly make your way into the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" You ask with your eyes glued on his wound. "I am fine." He hissed, keeping his gaze away from you. "Clearly not." You said, a bit of anger setting in.

You pushed him back and made him sit down on the edge of the tub. You turned to grab a small bit of bandages and stitching kits from under your counter. You crouched down next to him as he exhaled deeply. His hands reached down and tried to take the needles from you but you pulled your hands away from him.

"Stop." You began to open up the sewing kit. "I can dress my own wounds, go back to sleep." He tries to demand. You look up and give him a sour look before gripping his shirt. "Take it off." You demanded as you pulled up on the upper part of his uniform.

He reluctantly abides, knowing that you are too stubborn to let him do this on his own. Now with his skin exposed, you could see the wound in full. It was a large cut from his upper ribcage down to the side of his lower abdomen. "Bi-han." You breathe out as you touch the skin around the wound, feeling dried blood around it.

"You act as if I am fragile." He snarls, still looking away from you. "I know you are not fragile which is why this is a bit much, but I knw you will be fine." You nod before pouring a bit of alcohol on a rag before dressing his wound. The alcohol on the wound causes Bi-han to wince loudly as he tightly grabs hold of your leg as you stood next to him.

"Do not treat me like a child." He shakes his head, his eyes tightly pressed together. "I am not treating you like a child, I'm treating you like my husband. It is my job to worry about you, to want to help you." You explain, feeling his grip on your leg soften as he finally turns to look at you. "I know you do not want my help even when you need it, but I am always here to provide it. Because I wish for you to be safe and not in pain, just as I hope you'd like that for me." You hold his face in your hands as he looks up at you, his cold demeanor completely faded as soft eyes stare at yours.

"I would freeze the world over to keep you safe."

A soft smile goes across your lips before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, pulling away and pressing your forehead to his.

Although you interpreted his saying as a metaphor, he meant every single word.

#— hunterwritings #hunterwritings #mk1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #bihan x reader #bi han x you #sub zero #sub zero x reader #sub zero x you

[luveline]

hi! could I request a fic where reader has trouble falling asleep without someone with her? maybe with Hotch or Miguel? like their voices soothe her into sleep? only if you feel like it!! have an amazing day and I adore your writing! 💟💟

hi gorgeous, thank you! ♡ fem

Hotch is rubbing the knots out of his neck when his phone pings with a text. 

Hi, handsome, hopefully you're sleeping, so when you wake up I was wondering if you can send me the photos from last Wednesday to print <3 

He adores your silly electronic heart. 

Hotch clicks your contact and brings the phone to his ear, waiting as the dial trills once. You pick up immediately, sounding sorry and sweet and the slightest bit tired. "Hey. You're awake." 

"Yes, I'm awake, I just got home. Why are you awake? It's four in the morning, honey." 

"You sound very accusatory right now. You're accusing me." 

"Mm. Can I come over, or will you fall asleep before I get there?" 

"Fat chance of that. You're really coming over?" you ask. 

Hotch leaps up the moment he hears the relief in your voice. Something is wrong, and you won't tell him over the phone. He says goodbye gently, dresses less so, and makes an impressively quick journey to your home to put whatever it is back the way it should be. 

You seem in good spirits even though the hollows under your eyes are prominent in the light of the porch, opening your arms for him and hugging him there on the door jam, rumpled under his chin. "You're not wearing a suit." 

"Would you have preferred that?" 

"Only if you were gonna take it off." 

"You'd like that, hmm?" he asks, his teasing at odds with the dulcet cadence of his voice. "I'll dance." 

You giggle into his chest. Hotch grins but quashes it as you look up for a kiss, your lips soft, sweet against his. You kiss his cupid's bow all smushed upward before stepping away from him, your hands drifting together. He pauses to lock the door and take off his shoes. You tug him impatiently back to your room.

Hotch has dreams about your bedroom. There's something about you, the way you climb into bed and sit pretty against the headboard waiting for him to follow you in, innocuous, intensely tempting. He pulls back the sheets and slides in, needling an arm under you to drag you into his side and down onto your back simultaneously. 

"Unnecessary show of strength," you say with a laugh. 

"Just reminding you." 

You turn out your lamp. He squirms to get comfortable. Your mattress is a mess and he's not young enough to bear it without consequence in the morning, but he'll suffer it and worse if it means you'll stay nestled against his side, your cheek at home on his bicep, your arm wrapped around his middle. 

"You'll tell me what's keeping you up?" he asks, hushed. 

"I really don't know how you just know these things…" You give in, because you always give in with him, and (to his credit), he always listens. "I don't think I can sleep without you, Aaron, I really don't." 

"Why? You're not worrying about me, are you?" he asks. 

"No. Of course I am, but that's not the problem. I just struggle without you here. It's easier when you call me, I can fall asleep with you talking to me. But otherwise it's hard." 

"How did you fall asleep before me?" he asks fondly, turning his face to nose at your temple. 

"I'm used to you, I think. I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." He pressed his lips to your cheek, eyes closed to breathe you in. "What do you want me to talk about? Think of something soothing." 

"You aren't a man with many soothing stories," you say. 

Hotch tells you about the quieter things in his life, the things that make undertaking the unsaid worthwhile. Jack wants to be Bugs Bunny for Halloween and Hotch has no idea why. Spencer destroyed his computer with a cup of coffee —the problem being the amount of undisolved sugar clumped at the bottom of his cup that found its way into the computers RAM with no hopes of cleaning, rather than the drink itself. His office door squeaks constantly and he's half mad with it, but there's no solution beyond waiting for someone in maintenance to oil the hinge. 

He realises you've fallen asleep somewhere in his stories and he hadn't noticed. He didn't think your confession was wholly true. Perhaps you're stressed, or anxious in a way you haven't shared. And yet you fall asleep as promised from the sound of his voice, your hand scrunched in his shirt like you worry he'll escape you, your eyelid to his arm. Hotch contemplates you as you sleep, pulling the sheets snugly to your chin. He doesn't know if you know this, but you're his sweetheart. He finds you so precious, among a thousand other things, brave and kind and loving, but he knows he's a lucky man. He's the spoiled one. 

If you need his voice to fall asleep to, he'll talk until he's hoarse. And while he's away, he'll have to remember to call. He can't have you missing out on sleep. Hotch kisses the hollow under your eye and tries to sleep too, but he finds he misses the sound of your voice. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[teatoptony]

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐬 - p.j

summary; who knew life threatening situations made you reevaluate your love life?

pairing; percy jackson x demigod!fem!reader

word count; 7.5k

warning(s); mild mentions of injury, spoilers for ttc

a/n; i'm guessing you meant the titan's curse? i changed a few things, but i hope this was what you had in mind. if not, feel free to send another request :)

the ending is schist. sorry.

You were on a dark hillside, shrouded in fog. Wisps of haze stuck and clung to your hair and clothes like cat hair, refusing to come off even when you tried to brush it away. Up above, you couldn't see the sky—just a close, heavy darkness, as if you were in a cave. From every direction, the same amount of pressure pushed down on you, like you were hundreds of miles below sea level. The place felt more like a deep-sea cavern than anything.

You felt like you were suffocating.

Thorn was long gone, you could tell. The smell of his disgusting cologne was nowhere to be found. A good thing, you supposed, as it really was rather horrible. On the down side, though, that meant you were completely stranded alone in the middle of nowhere.

"Thorn!" You called. Your own voice made your head pound. Raising a hand up to the back of your head with much more effort than you would like to admit, you felt something warm and sticky matting your hair. You grimaced. "Where are you? Why did you bring me here?"

You waited a minute or two before deciding that you were, in fact, on your own. Standing up only to drop back down, you hissed as you clutched your leg. Looking down at your calf, you gagged. Where one of Thorn's spikes had nicked you, the skin around the cut had turned a greenish-purplish colour, the cut itself scabbing over in a yellow-brown-black mess. He'd said his poison only causes pain; infections were a whole different problem.

You struggled up the hill, trying to reach the top. Maybe you'd be able to see if anything was around here from up high, though you doubted there would be anything for miles around. As you climbed, you vaguely noticed old, broken Greek columns of black marble scattered around, as though something had blasted a huge building to ruins.

Climbing over a section of broken wall, you finally made it to the crest of the hill. What you saw made your heart drop into your shoes.

On the rocky ground lay a boy with messy black hair and a tattered orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. He was crumpled like a soda can, and he seemed to be in pain. The blackness seemed to be thicker around him, the fog swirling hungrily. Squinting your eyes, you could see his eyes screwed shut with the effort of.. well, you couldn't quite tell. Whatever it was, it seemed horrible.

"Percy?" You whispered in shock, making your way toward him. As you walked closer, the air grew thicker and thicker, almost buzzing with electricity and the smell of ozone.

Percy's eyes cracked open when he heard your voice. Then they were wide with panic and relief.

"Y/N!" He called. "Help me! Please!"

You ran forward until you were no more than a few inches away from where he was standing—well, 'standing' is a strong word.. 'trying extremely hard not to be flattened into a Percy pancake' would be more accurate, now that you properly saw the state he was in. His hands were propped up next to his shoulders in an odd manner, like he was trying to hold up something massive and invisible.

Panic jolted into your brain as you registered his words. You reached out to touch his face.. then stopped at the last minute. He looked off; you couldn't tell why. Icy little needles prickled at the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine.

"Please, it's killing me." He said again. You took a step back.

"What happened?" You asked warily. Seeing Percy like this broke your heart, but something just felt wrong.

"They left me here," Percy groaned. You could've sworn his eyes looked almost yellow as he squeezed them shut again. He seemed to be struggling against some invisible curse, as though the fog were squeezing him to death.

Studying him closely again, you shook your head. You were just about to take another couple steps back when Percy's knees buckled. He yelped in surprise and almost toppled, but regained his balance in the last second. His face paled.

In the scarce light, Thalia's pine tree glimmered a soft green hue on one of the beads on his camp necklace. There was no Golden Fleece hanging from its branches.

The darkness above him began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. You rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. You held it somehow—tons of rock. You kept it from collapsing on you and Percy just with your own strength. It was impossible. You shouldn't have been able to do that.

Just as the debris stopped falling, Percy rolled free, gasping. "Thanks." He managed. You clenched your jaw to steel yourself.

"Don't just lay there," you groaned.

Percy caught his breath. His face was covered in sweat and grime. He rose unsteadily.

Then, he flickered. Literally. His whole image flickered like the flame of a candle. You would've just brushed it off as something your brain made up from being put in such a stressful situation, but then it happened again. And again. Eventually, Percy flickered away..

..and Luke stood in his place.

"I knew I could count on you." He said, a crooked smirk twisting his face. He reached for his Camp Half-Blood necklace, and you realized there were glowing green runes etched onto every one of the six beads. Magic. Of course.

"Castellan." You spat, almost forgetting about the crushing weight on your shoulders as white-hot anger made your blood boil. "You prick."

"Nice to see you haven't changed," Luke said. He began to walk away as the trembling blackness threatened to pulverize you.

"Help. Me." You gritted your teeth. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. You knew it was no use; you were grasping at straws. But holding up literal tons of rock can make you do weird things.

"Oh, don't worry," Luke said. "Your help is on the way. It's all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die."

The ceiling of darkness began to crumble again, pushing you against the ground.

—

It's amazing how one perceives time when holding literal tons of stone.

At first, every second goes by agonizingly slow. Just when you think you're getting used to the weight, the ceiling cracks some more, piling more rocks on top of you until you're nearly squished like a bug. Once that cycle repeats a dozen or so times, you realize that a couple hours have passed, judging by the members of Kronos's army chatting amongst themselves while they stride by. You'd never been more relieved to hear dracanae making dinner plans.

Luke had said your 'help' was coming. You didn't know what poor soul was going to be trapped here next, but you couldn't help but hope they arrived quickly. As much as you didn't want anyone other than Luke to bear this weight, you were certain you'd die if they didn't. Maybe you could take turns once they arrived.

You were tired. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment. Your bones felt like they were on fire.

In front of you, a throne of black marble had been strategically placed in the shadows so that whoever was sitting on it wasn't really visible unless you got really close. Ugh, villains and their ambiance. It oddly resembled the chair from that one Lincoln statue, albeit a bit smaller in size. Fortunately, you were far enough away from it that you didn't have to look at the ugly face of whoever was on the throne.

Your eyes had been screwed shut for a while when you heard the clanking of chains drawing near. The sound scraped to a stop a couple feet in front of you. You peeled open your eyes to see what was about to go down.

A small girl with auburn hair was shoved forward by a meaty hand. She had chains of celestial bronze binding her hands and feet like some medieval prisoner. Her silvery dress was torn and tattered. Her face and arms were cut in several places, and she was bleeding ichor, the golden blood of the gods.

A goddess?

"How is our mortal guest?" A male voice boomed. Its force made the ground and the boulders on your shoulders vibrate. Your head pounded in protest. You'd compare it to a bass guitar, but that would be offensive to bass guitars.

Luke emerged from the shadows. He ran and knelt beside you, then looked back at the unseen man. "She's fading. We must hurry." You vaguely wished you could bite his hand off.

Hey, he's in range, just under the rocks.

You were tempted to just drop everything and let it crush everyone to death. You decided against it, only because of the goddess in chains. There was no way she'd be able to escape.

"You heard the boy," said the man in the shadows. "Decide!"

Shut up, you thought irritably. The world buzzed with every word he spoke, and you were not a fan of that.

The girl's eyes flashed with anger. You supposed she must have been either a minor goddess or extremely drained, because she didn't seem able to just will the chains to explode or make herself disappear. Maybe the chains prevented her, or some magic about this dark, horrible place.

The goddess looked at you, and her expression changed to concern and outrage. "How dare you torture a maiden like this!"

Maiden? You mused. The ceiling piled more boulders on you, and you almost crumpled, barely regaining your balance in time. Must be Artemis. You decided, groaning weakly. From what you recalled, Artemis was the protector of women. Besides, silver.

"She will die soon," Luke said. "You can save her."

Like you'd care.

"Free my hands," Artemis said.

Don't be stupid, you caught yourself thinking. You thanked the fact that the gods couldn't read minds. Well, most of them, anyway.

Luke strided over to her. He brought out his sword, Backbiter, and broke the goddess's handcuffs in one swift strike. You promised yourself you'd use the damn thing to stick him in the stomach if you ever got the chance.

Artemis ran over to you and took the burden from your shoulders. You collapsed on the ground like a pile of bones. You felt your spine creak as the pressure was taken off of it, and your limbs wouldn't stop trembling. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the bile from rising, but even that took so much effort.

The man in the shadows chuckled. "You are as predictable as you were easy to beat, Artemis." Oh, hey, you were right.

"You surprised me," Artemis said, straining under her burden. "It will not happen again."

"Indeed it will not," the man said. "Now you are out of the way for good! I knew you could not resist helping a young maiden. That is, after all, your specialty, my dear."

Your breathing grew more and more ragged with each word the man spoke. You felt something hot trickle down the back of your neck, leaving chills in its wake. Recalling your head wound from earlier, you grimaced. Had it not patched itself up? How much blood had you lost? Thinking about it made you dizzy.

Artemis groaned. "You know nothing of mercy, you swine."

"On that," the man said, "we can agree. Luke, you may kill the girl now."

Oh, you complete piece of–

Luke hesitated. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "She–she may yet be useful, sir.. Further bait."

"Bah! You truly believe that?"

"Yes, General. They will come for her. I'm sure."

The man considered. "Then the dracaenae can guard her here. Assuming she does not die from her injuries, you may keep her alive until winter solstice. After that, if our sacrifice goes as planned, her life will be meaningless. The lives of all mortals will be meaningless."

Luke gathered up your listless body and carried you away from the goddess. You would have stabbed him, but you weren't in any state to do much more than breathe, and even that was a bit of a struggle.

"You will never find the monster you seek," Artemis said. "Your plan will fail."

"How little you know, my young goddess," the man in the shadows said. "Even now, your darling attendants begin their quest to find you. They shall play directly into my hands. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a long journey to make. We must greet your Hunters and make sure their quest is… challenging."

A sudden surge of annoyance flooded your brain. It was always like this, wasn't it? The 'bad guy' knew everything while your friends had to wander, dealing with every freakshow that sprung up on the way. It wasn't fair.

The man's laughter echoed in the darkness, shaking the ground until it seemed the whole cavern ceiling would collapse. You suddenly sympathized with how Zeus must have felt when Athena was banging on his skull, demanding to be let out. It felt like you had a goddess trapped up there. You wished someone would take an axe to it. Not like anyone here would have much aversion to that.

Luke took you a little while away from where Artemis was. Among the ruins, there was a semi-intact room with about two or three walls, depending on how tall you considered a wall to be. He placed you with your back against one of them. You glared at him from where you sat.

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped.

"Rot in Tartarus." You replied. Surprisingly, your voice worked. It sounded like metal against metal, but it worked.

Luke rolled his eyes. Then, his expression softened, just a little. "The gods are using you," he said bitterly. You rolled your eyes. Not this again. "Do you honestly think they care what happens to you?"

"I don't give a flying fuck what the gods care about," you said. Luke raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. "I care about my friends. I care about my life. You know, all the things you used to have before you stabbed us in the back and ran away."

With a bit of effort, you turned your head and spat on the ground. "Coward." You muttered, your hand wiping your face to get rid of all the grime. It didn't do much other than smudge it, really. "Couldn't even face us after your little stunt."

You could tell he was just itching to draw his sword from the way his hand twitched. You smirked. He was just too easy to rile up.

"I could kill you, here and now." He threatened. Geez, his villain talk needed some work.

"Go for it." You said, turning your head to look him in the eye again. Seeing the scar under his right, you cursed whatever dragon had caused it for not taking out his entire eyeball. Luke's expression changed from anger to irritation as he took a step back.

"I don't have to deal with you right now.." He muttered, turning away and walking off. Half a dozen dracanae came up from behind you, four of them taking positions on your left, right, and center while the other two continuously slithered in circles around you.

"Turn tail and run," you jeered. It was quiet, but it was enough to make him hear you, from the looks of it. His posture stiffened as the words left your tongue, making him seem rather huffy as he marched out of sight.

When the top of Luke's head disappeared, you felt all the strength leave your body. Your need to poke and prod at him had been the only reason you'd even been able to talk, you were sure. Your eyelids felt heavier than the cave ceiling. It wouldn't hurt to just close them for a moment or two..

You slept like the dead.

—

Surprisingly, it wasn't all that long until Percy came around, simply because the days blended into one. The sun never rose here, which meant your biological clock was the only thing that told you what time it could possibly be. The dracanae assigned to be your guards—three batches of six, from what you could tell by some of their features—weren't really the chattiest of their kind.

Your head wound had turned crusty and gross during the time you were kept here. Your calf wasn't in much better condition. You were shivering most of the time, cold sweat drenching your clothes and making them feel uncomfortable and disgusting to be in. The world spun without any prompts now.

You were messing with your roughly once-a-day rations when Luke came to grab you. It was the first time you'd seen him since he left you here. He looked paler and weaker than the first time you'd seen him here, and that was impressive considering he had just gotten out of getting crushed to death back then. Even in your condition, you had no doubt you could have taken him if the guards weren't here. Maybe if you had your weapon...

Despite that, he had a smug smirk on his face that you would've loved to slap off.

"Get up," he ordered. You pointed at your tray.

"I'm not done with my slop." You replied. In truth, you'd never touch the stuff, maybe taking one or two glops out of it just to keep yourself alive before lobbing the rest at your guards.

Luke snapped his fingers at the dracanae. Two of them slid over to either side of you and harshly lifted you up by each of your arms. You let out a disgruntled groan. The slop you'd just choked down threatened to make a reappearance as everything turned blurry and twisty. You tried not to sway on your feet.

"I said, get. Up." He sneered. You made a face at him in return.

"Fine." You snapped. You pulled your arms out of the snake women's grasp, only for Luke to cuff your hands behind your back. You opened your mouth to complain, but he stuffed a gag in it. You felt like you were about to hurl. The thing tasted like sandpaper and mouldy gym socks.

He dragged you alongside him, walking—well, limping, in your case—downhill and circling the lower points before climbing his way back up. There, he joined half a dozen dracaenae bearing the golden sarcophagus of Kronos and a hulking man in a brown silk suit. You supposed this was the one who'd been sitting on the throne when Artemis was brought in. You waited for your vision to clear a bit before taking note of his appearance.

His skin was light brown, and his dark hair was slicked back in a (in your opinion) rather wet-dog-like fashion. He had a regal expression; a cold, proud look in his grey eyes, like a CEO who ran one of those huge companies that were responsible for the ice caps melting.

"My lady!" Someone cried at the top of the hill. The Hulk-man gestured with his hand for his forces to follow him up the hill. Ugh, villains and their grand entrances, too.

Luke pushed you forward as he unsheathed Backbiter. Once you reached the crest of the hill, he pointed the blade at your neck.

From here, you could see a small group of people who were definitely not a part of Kronos's army. There was Percy, Thalia, and another girl who was kneeling at Artemis's side. You grimaced. None of them looked like they were in much of a shape to fight. Especially the new girl—you could see the dark colour of blood soaking through her silvery clothes. The getup looked somewhat familiar.. where had you seen that before? Her skin, which you assumed under better circumstances would be a coppery brown, was slowly being bleached.

"Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Artemis groaned. Her voice was strained. She was drenched in sweat. The ceiling threatened to pile more rocks on her as one or two new cracks appeared.

Despite the goddess's warning, the girl tugged stubbornly at her chains. Of course, they didn't budge. You could see she was trembling, but whether that was from the blood loss or from crying, you weren't too sure. She really needed a medic.

"Ah, how touching." Hulk-man said.

Points for a moderate opening line, I guess.

The three turned around. Percy and Thalia raised their weapons as New Girl opted to position herself between Artemis and Hulk-man. Ah, must be a Hunter. You'd seen the pamphlet Annabeth had.

Your eyes met Percy's as he scanned the crowd. When he took in what was going on, the look of anger that took over his features was like nothing you'd seen before on him. The boy looked just about ready to commit war crimes.

As touching as that was, all you wanted was for him to get the hell out of here. Hulk-man, as much as calling him that made him sound ridiculous, wasn't one to be taken lightly, you could tell.

"Luke," Thalia snarled. "Let her go."

Luke smiled thinly. "That is the General's decision, Thalia. But it's good to see you again." He said. Thalia looked like she was ready to murder him, which she probably was. Honestly, same.

Thalia spat at him. The gag stifled your laugh. Luke rolled his eyes and pressed the blade of his sword harder against your throat. You tried not to wince as it cut shallowly through your skin. You could just see Percy's grip tightening on Riptide.

Hulk-man—'The General', whatever—chuckled. "So much for old friends. And you, Zoë. It's been a long time. How is my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you."

New Girl—whom you could only assume was Zoë—clenched her jaw. Her face was pale, and she didn't look like she was in a much better condition than Luke, which was saying something. Huh, she and the General looked kinda similar..

"Do not respond," Artemis groaned. "Do not challenge him."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "You're Atlas?"

Ah. Oh. Wait—what?

The General glanced at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

"You're not going to hurt Zoë." Percy said. "I won't let you."

The General sneered. "You have no right to interfere, little hero. This is a family matter."

Percy frowned. "A family matter?"

"Yes," Zoë said bleakly. "Atlas is my father."

Percy's eyes flickered between Zoë and Atlas, taking in the new information. It was easy to see the family resemblance, even if one of them was an evil titan overlord and another was a Hunter of Artemis. His frown deepened as he made the same connections.

"Let Artemis go," Zoë demanded. She struggled to her feet, the look in her eyes so close yet so different from Atlas's.

Atlas walked closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

No, no, no, no, no. You thought. Look at the state you're in. You'll die.

Zoë opened her mouth to speak, but Artemis said, "No! Do not offer, Zoë! I forbid you."

Atlas smirked. He knelt next to Artemis and tried to touch her face, but the goddess bit at him, almost taking off his fingers. Pity, if only he were slower.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckled. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

Percy looked at you. Your eyes flickered between his and Zoë's bow. In situations like these, your philosophy was simple: first move, first kill. Whoever took the first shot was going to result the first casualty, and you hoped your friends were smart enough to know that by now.

Atlas was in a somewhat vulnerable position. If Zoë fired now, he'd have to take a second to stand. You bet it would take Luke by surprise, too. After all, if she was Atlas's daughter, she must be thousands of years old, with that much experience.

Take. A. Shot.

Percy just stood there, staring at you. His eyes lingered on the top of your head. Thalia muttered something to him that you didn't quite catch. Geez, was the wound really that bad? Could he even see it from there?

As if on cue, you stumbled, suddenly feeling like you were standing on a surfing board. You hissed weakly as the movement made Luke's sword slip across your neck. A trickle of blood slowly made its way down to your shirt.

"I don't understand," Percy said. His voice was slightly forced. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughed. Ugh, shut up. The sound made your head pound even more than before. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiled. "Unless someone else takes it from you."

He approached Percy and Thalia, studying them. His back was turned to Zoë. Take a shot. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," he said. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

Luke looks like he'd fall over if you looked at him too hard, you thought. Then you internally groaned at yourself for being held hostage by him in that state. Ugh, being helpless felt gross.

"So you're another coward," Percy said.

Atlas stiffened. You were sure he would've punched Percy straight in the head if he wasn't so prideful. With difficulty, he turned his attention to Thalia.

"As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you." He said smoothly, although you could hear the clear irritation in his voice.

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that he somehow looked even worse than he did just a couple moments ago. Beads of sweat made their way down his forehead (ew), and he spoke every word as if it were painful. You thanked whatever was the reason for his pain. "Thalia, you can still join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waved his hand, and next to Thalia, a pool of water appeared: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for a small seal. Percy took one look at it, then stared for a few moments like he was in a trance. He then shook his head a little and looked back at you with a rather stupid, blank look on his face. He looked like he'd broken his brain by thinking too hard, an expression you knew all too well from sitting next to him in English Lit.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persisted. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke…" Her voice was full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods? Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Like the Titans were going to be any better. Could he not see that he'd be dead as soon as Kronos rose to the throne?

Thalia shook her head. "Free Y/N. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promised, "it can be like old times. Annabeth will see our side eventually. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree…"

His voice faltered. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

Okay, so maybe he did realize his life was in danger here. You weren't sure what he meant, but the fear in his voice sounded real enough. For one reason or another, his life depended on Thalia's joining his cause. You, for one, couldn't bring yourself to care about him after everything he'd done. You were afraid Thalia might, though.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoë warned. "We must fight them."

Luke waved his hand again, and a fire appeared. A bronze brazier, just like the one at camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," Percy said. "No."

You held your breath. Whatever they were talking about, it was clear you were out of the loop. But one thing was for sure—Luke, and by extension Kronos, desperately wanted Thalia to summon this Ophiotaurus thing, which meant you had to hope desperately that she wouldn't.

Behind you, a quiet, high-pitched humming noise grew louder as the air grew warmer. You saw a golden light cast on the boulders, presumably from Kronos's sarcophagus. As it did, you saw images in the mist all around you: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful palace rising around you, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promised, in a voice so strained it was hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

Debatable.

He pointed toward the ocean, and Percy's expression turned into one of slight horror. With the whole being held at swordpoint and all, you couldn't look at whatever it was he was so afraid of, but it must have been horrible if it scared Percy like that.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke said. "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitated. She gazed at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wanted in the world was to believe him. Then she leveled her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleaded. "Please. Don't make me… Don't make him destroy you."

Percy looked back at you. You nodded slightly, hoping he'd get the message already. He then looked to Thalia and Zoë, as if he were steeling himself for the fight to come.

"Now," he said.

Together, they charged.

Thalia went straight for Luke. The hideous face of Medusa glared at you as she ran, making you stand frozen in fear. Behind you, you heard panicked hissing and a loud thump as the dracanae ran away.

Despite his sickly appearance, Luke was still quick with his sword. He snarled like a wild animal and counterattacked. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As Backbiter left your throat, you did the least heroic thing you could think of.

You ran.

Tucking yourself behind a large boulder, you tried to wait out the battle. In your current state, you'd be a liability rather than an asset. From this new position, you could see wave after wave of monsters marching from the Princess Andromeda and up the mountain.

You hated that you could do nothing but hope that your friends would make it out alive. Preferably before the army reached the top.

"Die, little hero," Atlas said. You had a feeling he was talking about Percy. Your heart dropped a hundred miles below.

Screw this. You had to do something. Now.

Finding a jagged spot in the boulder you were hiding behind, you maneuvered yourself into a position where you could somehow strike your hands downward and theoretically break your cuffs on the rock. Assuming they weren't made of celestial bronze, that is. After about three tries and one painful miscalculation, the chain finally broke, and you ripped the gag from your mouth, spitting to get rid of the taste.

When you peered around the boulder, the fight was complete mayhem. There was Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fought. And a blur of silver—Artemis?

She had two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashed wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seemed to change form as she maneuvered. She was a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just your fevered brain.

Zoë shot arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roared in pain each time one found its mark, but they affected him like bee stings. He just got madder and kept fighting.

Wait, if Artemis was out fighting...

Who was holding the sky?

Where was Percy?

Looking over to the dreaded spot, you saw Percy trying not to get crushed under the weight of the sky. His eyes were screwed shut, concentrating on anything and everything but the burden on his shoulders. Right before your eyes, you could've sworn a lock of his hair was turning grey.

Oh, hell no.

Not really thinking, you streaked across the battlefield with surprising speed. Rolling under arrows and narrowly avoiding Atlas's javeline once, you reached Percy, who was about to pass out. You rolled under the boulders—which you now saw were actually dark, heavy clouds—and braced yourself on your good leg, kneeling down. Reaching up with your hands, you took the sky once again.

Every cell in your body screamed in protest. The pounding in your head was worse than what Zeus felt in Athena's origin story; you were sure of it. You felt like the vertebrae in your spine were being welded together by a blowtorch.

Fortunately, though, two people holding the sky was evidently easier than doing it alone.

"What the–" You vaguely heard Percy say. He was cut off by a blood-curdling scream. You managed to open your eyes and saw Zoë leap between her father and Artemis, shooting an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodged like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellowed in rage. He swept aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

"Zoë!" Percy shouted. He looked frantically between you and the direction she flew. As much as he wanted to go help her, he didn't try to move, afraid you wouldn't be able to handle the full burden of the sky.

The cold weight of dread settled in your stomach. Zoë didn't get back up.

Then Atlas turned on Artemis with a look of triumph on his face.

Artemis seemed to be wounded. She didn't get up.

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloated. And he stabbed downward.

Just then, a voice spoke in your head. Get ready, Artemis told you. You realized she was leading Atlas closer to where you knelt. With great difficulty, you turned your head to meet Percy's eyes. You could tell Artemis had told him the same thing.

"Go." You said, your voice strained. You tried to tell him the goddess's plan, but your voice wouldn't work anymore, so instead you looked frantically between Atlas and the sky. Percy hesitated for a split second before ducking and rolling out from under the clouds.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabbed Atlas's javelin shaft. It hit the earth right next to her and she pulled backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her.

You saw him coming down on top of you, and you loosened your grip on the sky. And as Atlas slammed into you, you didn't try to hold on. You let yourself be pushed out of the way and rolled for all you were worth.

The weight of the sky dropped onto Atlas's back, almost smashing him flat until he managed to get to his knees, struggling to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it was too late.

"Noooooo!" He bellowed so hard it shook the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas was trapped under his old burden.

As for you, you didn't try to stand. Odd as it was, you could feel no part of your body and every single atom at the same time. You felt like you were literally burning up. Your head felt like someone was taking a dull axe to it over, and over, and over. Your leg felt like it was poisoned all over again.

After that, you don't remember much else. Hard to when you're unconscious.

—

Things were kinda hazy after that. You faintly remember waking up on a marble floor, a good-looking guy with a perfect tan and gold curls leaning over you. You thought it was Will, but this guy looked a lot older, and more golden, somehow.

"There you go, kid," he said, smiling widely at someone next to you. His teeth were so white, you were surprised it didn't make your head hurt worse. Wait.. did it even hurt at all? "God of medicine, at your service."

"Thanks." You heard Percy's voice mutter. He sounded relieved, but there was a bit of a point to his tone. Golden Guy—Apollo, you assumed—smirked knowingly and stood up, teleporting out of sight.

"Now for the Ophiotaurus," a voice said. Maybe Artemis. You fell asleep before you could hear much more of the conversation.

—

The next time you woke up, it lasted a lot longer. The familiar scent of the infirmary prompted you to open your eyes. When you did, the sight made you let out a breathless laugh. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm sunlight in patterns across the white sheets of the bed. On the windowsill, a small collection of potted plants sprouted soft green shoots.

When you tried to move your hand, you found that a slight weight held it down. Someone took a sharp breath, and their fingers tightened around your hand.

"Oh, you're awake." Percy said. You sat up. His face looked a mess. A couple scars here and there and some bruises (all covered in some sort of balm), plus dark circles like he hadn't had a proper sleep in days. His shoulders sagged as he scanned yours. "Thank the gods."

You must have looked confused, because he straightened up and started explaining everything that had happened at the mountain, then at Olympus. Mr. Chase was, surprisingly, not that bad. Something about Artemis's Santa Claus sleigh. Zoë had passed on. Apparently, you were an expert pegasus rider in your sleep. Golden Guy was, in fact, Apollo—though Percy seemed a bit miffed when you called him that—and was the one who had healed you before you came back to Camp. Will had still insisted you stayed in the infirmary for a day or two so that he could check on you to make sure you were alright.

"You really had me scared, you know?" He said, his cheeks growing red. "You were so dumb, taking the sky when you were like that. I had it."

"Yeah, sure you did, Ariel." You snorted. Then you squinted at him. "Your hair's grey," you informed.

"So's yours," Percy rolled his eyes. "Dude, I was scared you were gonna die on me, and the first thing you say is that my hair's grey?"

"Well it is," you simply said. He let out an exasperated sigh, and you put a finger on his forehead to push his head up. "You didn't have anything to worry about. Not gonna get rid of me that easily, Jackson."

He laughed, but then trailed off. He fiddled with your fingers a bit. You felt your ears grow warm as you realized he was still holding your hand.

"Seriously though... I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if you were gone because I let you take all of it. The sky."

"Yeah, well, I'm still here." You said softly. He smiled a little.

He took a breath, then paused, as if deciding whether or not to say what he was thinking out loud. "You know why I was so scared?"

"Because you thought your best friend was about to die?"

"No." He said. Then he quickly backtracked, "well, yeah, but not just that. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to tell you..."

He took another breath.

"I like you. Like, like-like you. A lot, actually."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what?" You asked, dumbfounded. Your face flushed as his sea green eyes met yours, suddenly very interested in the linen sheets of your cot.

"I've been in love with you since we were kids," Percy chuckled. "I used to make my mom pick out my clothes when we went to your place so that I'd look good."

If your face wasn't red before, it certainly was now. You grabbed Percy's hand in yours a little tighter and laughed. "You know, I used to make you watch all those Disney movies so that you'd kinda get the hint that I liked you," you mused. Percy perked up. "All the girl-gets-the-guy stuff. Now I kinda figure, I should've made you play Barbie and Ken with me instead."

"What, make me Ken?"

"Nah. You'd be Barbie." You laughed at his expression. He huffed as if he found the idea nuts. "I'd be Ken. We'd be married, maybe have a horse."

"A horse?"

"Hey, I lost all the tiny Barbie puppies!"

"Well," he chuckled. You could've sworn his eyes sparkled. "In that case, you'll be happy to know, since we were kids, I planned to marry you someday."

"Oh yeah?" He hummed in confirmation. "What did it look like?"

"I dunno. Like the first thing that pops up when you type 'wedding' on Google."

"Wow. Way to be generic, Perce." You deadpanned. He punched your arm lightly.

"Hey, I was like six!" He said defensively.

A light quiet settled over the two of you as you looked down, avoiding Percy's expectant stare and fiddling with his fingers instead. He had that stupid grin on his face, which you'd come to adore over the years you'd known him.

"So..what now?" You asked, slowly lifting your gaze to meet his. His face flushed, and this time, it was he who turned away. He muttered something under his breath—a prayer?—and looked back at you. He looked like he wanted to run away.

"D'you want to go to the fireworks with me? Like, as a date?" He asked. You giggled.

"That's like, six months away." You laughed. He shrugged.

"Yeah. I need six months to get ready, obviously." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, obviously. My bad." You held back your laughter long enough to accept. "I'd love to go with you."

Percy was just about to say more when Will burst out of the 'doctor's office'. The boy stood up so suddenly that he almost knocked his chair over. Will walked over and shooed Percy away.

"Yeah, yeah, we all like each other. Can you please let me work now?" He said, and Percy's ears burned bright red. He muttered a quick see you later and practically ran out of the infirmary.

"We thought he'd never tell you," Will commented, checking the back of your head.

"We?"

"Uh, probably, what, half the camp? Maybe more," he said absentmindedly. Giving you a once-over, he nodded to himself in satisfaction. "Dad did a good job on you."

He gave you the go-ahead a minute or two later. As you walked out the door, you saw Percy talking animatedly to Annabeth near the volleyball court, his back towards you. The blonde had an amused smile on her face, and when she noticed you, she put her hands on Percy's shoulders and spun him around. Catching your eye, the boy gave you a small wave and a smile. You waved back, a grin of your own on your lips.

With his slight blush and bright eyes, it was hard to believe a doomsday prophecy was in his hands.

The end of the world never felt so far away.

#percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson books #pjo imagine #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n

[florence-end]

Stitch up

Azriel x reader

Request: Could you please write a story where Azriel and the reader are on a mission, and the reader is injured and she needs stitches, and Azriel is the one who has to do it.

Warnings: vague description of injury, sad Az, hurt/comfort

“Sweetheart, please. You need to sit still so I can do this right.”

“Az, it’s not necessary. The bleeding has stopped and it’ll close up by itself. There are people out there that need proper healing, I need to get back out there.” You continued to evade Azriel’s flittering hands as he tried to hold your face still to assess the wound on your cheek. His large frame blocked the doorway to your tent, stopping you from slipping past and back out into the war camp.

“It is fucking necessary. Sit down now,” he was getting frustrated now but so were you. You stared each other down, neither bothering to hide your irritation from the other through the bond.

“You might give orders on that battlefield, Azriel, but you will not tell me what to do when it comes to healing my patients. Get out of my way,” you demanded, arms crossed over your chest. The stinging of the laceration on your cheek was long forgotten, and the Hybern General that had inflicted it was long dead thanks to your mate.

Azriel hesitated before stepping to the side, clearing your path to the door. But as you reached it, he spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please just let me stitch you up, I’ll be quick.”

You turned to look at him, noting that the anger on his face had quickly melted to guilt and pleading. You glanced out of the tent to assess how much you were needed at the healers’ stations, and realised your colleagues had it mostly under control.

Without speaking, you walked back to your mate and sat down in one of the chairs he had pulled over from the strategy table.

He gave you a small smile, and his shadows brushed over your arms and hands in gratitude as he readied the suture kit. He began his task in silence.

“Why is this so important to you? You knew I would have been fine letting it heal on its own,” you asked gently, understanding there was an issue Azriel hadn’t voiced yet.

“I can’t let you scar,” he murmured quietly, not meeting your eye as he focused on getting his stitches perfect.

“The thought of a small scar on my face is really that repulsive?” you replied, trying to keep your hurt feelings from projecting down the bond.

Azriel’s head snapped up.

“No! Gods no, it’s not that. You would be perfect in my eyes no matter what, a scar couldn’t change that.”

“Then what’s the problem?” you urged again.

“I have so many scars. Probably hundreds by now. And they are all permanent reminders of times I was too weak to protect myself. I wasn’t fast enough or clever enough in a fight, or I wasn’t strong enough to deter my brothers from tormenting me. I can’t stand the thought of my failure to protect you today becoming a permanent mark on your skin,” he took a deep breath as he finished his speech and lowered his hands as they had begun shaking.

You took the needle from him and placed it on the table next to you before cupping his face in your hands. After a beat of silence, his eyes met yours.

“Azriel, you have never once failed to protect me. This wound is proof of that. A Hybern General marked me for death while I was too busy to defend myself, and yet I’ve walked away with barely a scratch. And your own scars are proof of nothing but your bravery and honour in everything you do,” you spoke with certainty, and sealed your declaration with a kiss to his chapped lips.

Never one for many words, Azriel simply nodded but his eyes were a fraction lighter than they had been before and the love he sent flooding through the bond was enough of a response for you.

Leaning forward to press his own kiss to your forehead, he picked up the needle and continued his task.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A short but sweet one hopefully! Thank you for the request🫶

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

thinking about tattoo artist!draken giving me you a tattoo in between and under my your tits im so unwell i want him to suck on my titties so bad HNSKSGDJKHGK okaybye

Hi Mack! Thank you for entrusting me with this awesome ask! I hope you like it! Proofed as much as I could.

WC ::: 2230 (HEY! It was 8 pages and I got it down to 5. So, you're WELCOME!)

C/W ::: MDNI, TattooArtist!Draken x F.reader, unprotected P->V and some other funsies.

You sat in the booth waiting for the artist to come in and start working on you. You'd met him a few times before while going over the finalized print of your design but why hadn't you noticed how sexy he was? He was like some mythological creature.

He walked in backwards and slid the screen all the way to the edge so the small booth was completely shut off from the rest of the shop. "Ok, ready when you are." Draken said as he turned to start getting the ink ready.

"Oh! O-ok, yeah. So, like," you hesitated with your words not wanting to seem like you were too inexperienced. You have tattoos, just not on this part of your body.

"Take your shirt and bra off and lean back and enjoy the ride." He is so fucking cool, you thought.

"Right, enjoy ... enjoy the ride." You began lifting your shirt over your head, watching yourself in the full-length mirror the whole time. Kicking yourself for wearing such a shitty bra (but really what else were you going to do? Wear your best one only for it to get ruined with blood and ink? No. Absolutely not.)

You put your clothes on the extra stool in the corner and wrapped your arms over your chest waiting for his next instructions.

"It's ... heh ... you gonna enjoy the ride or do I have to tat you up while you're standing by the wall? Come on, I'm gentle, I promise.

"Yes! Right right right. Sorry. I'm just a little shy I guess."

I've tattooed much stranger things than tits, trust me. Now sit down."

You moved to sit on the tattoo chair and leaned back. The cool leather made you shiver. Draken placed a paper towel on your chest and told you to relax. He leaned over you to grab the ink and needles. He was so close you could smell him. He smelled like leather, cologne and cigarettes. It made you feel high, breathing him in like that.

He pressed the needle into your skin, making you wince in pain. He pulled away for a second to apply more ink and then went back to work.

After a while, he was about halfway done with the outline. "You doin' ok, y/n? Needa break or anything?" You had zoned out so much that he had to nudge your arm to get your full attention. "Hey! You good?" He laughed.

"Oh shit. Yeah, I guess I just kinda got into a trance. You're very ... rhythmic. It's oddly soothing." You blushed.

"Told you I was good." He beamed. "So you want me to keep going?"

You nodded and put your arms back to your sides where they'd been.

"For this next part, I need you to put your arms above your head. Can you hold them there for a while while I work on the underside of your chest?"

"How long are we talkin' here? 30 minutes? 45?" You couldn't read his face because you didn't know him well enough to. But the look he had was less than comforting.

"Ish? I don't know, honestly. But it's going to be a while. I have a lot of detail to do here. Look, don't ask. Ok? But I can - *aheh* - fuck. I can tie your arms up if this is going to be a problem?" He made a point to look away when he suggested that to you.

And good thing too because the expression that washed over your face would have embarrassed a porn director. You're so proud of yourself for not moaning at the offer.

"YES! Yes. My arms get tired easily. Tie me up, Draken." Your eyes fell to his crotch and the bulge that was presenting itself was nothing short of delicious. You don't know what came over you but you let them roam the length of his chest and met his gaze.

He walked over to a cabinet in the corner and grabbed a few ties. "Which one do you want?" he asked, holding up a few options. You pointed to a soft-looking black one and he tied your arms above the chair. "How's that? Not too tight?"

You shook your head. "No, it's good. Just tight enough." He walked back over to the counter to get the ink and needle ready again. And you know he adjusted his dick. You've seen enough men do that to know what that little dance looks like.

He pressed the needle back into your skin and started on the underside of your tits. He was close enough that you could hear his breath hitch every time he accidentally touched your nipple. And you were certain he was doing it on purpose.

You don't know if it was the drilling of the needle into one of the most sensitive expanses of your body, if it was Draken being so close to you that he could stick his tongue out and flick your nipple with the tip of it. His shallow, labored breathing. His big hands doing such delicate work. But you were getting so fucking wet. And you couldn't help but imagine him sticking his fingers into you. Fucking you with them.

"You're um, doing great. Almost done with this side, are you hot? Do you want some water or something? Want me to crack the window?" he said, breaking the silence.

You nodded, not sure how to respond. "No, I'm uh, I'm doing great, thanks."

He walked over to the window and opened it just a sliver. The air was still warm but it was better than before.

"Thank you." You sighed.

"You're welcome. It's fuckin' hotter than hell in here." He took off his jacket and tossed it over onto your clothes.

You couldn't help but stare at the way his arm muscles flexed as he moved. The tattoos on his right bicep were beautiful and you wanted to trace every inch of them with your tongue.

"SO!" He shouted, startling even himself, he pulled the gun away from you. "Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that so loud." His cheeks were burning. You wanted to reach out and smooth your fingers over his face. You wanted to sit on it. But that's just crazy, you thought. Draken continued, much quieter this time, "You got a boyfriend? Or ... or girlfriend. Sorry. I forget about that shit sometimes." He chuckled.

"Nope, no boyfriend. No girlfriend either." You said, looking down at his crotch again. You were so horny you could hardly stand it. "So, just me, my shitty bra, and my soon-to-be tatted tits."

He laughed and leaned over you to start on the other side. He was close enough that his breath was hot on your ear. You closed your eyes and let yourself just enjoy the feeling of his weight pressing against you. You were so close that you could have turned your head and kissed him.

But he beat you to it. He stopped what he was doing, sitting the gun down on the tray next to him and he trailed his fingers up over your belly. Lifting them up long enough to skip over your freshly inked skin and he put them down at your collarbone, skimming them to your chin and tilting your face toward him. You tried to put your arms around his neck but you forgot you were all tied up. Literally.

He smiled at the new light of this situation. "You're tied up." Draken's demeanor changed.

You looked into his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"You wanna be free or do you like it?" He said, tracing his fingers up and down your jawline.

"I like it." You blushed. "But I can't touch you. And that's kinda bumming me out." You laughed.

He leaned back, grabbed the scissors from the counter, and cut the ties, but he left them around your wrists. "You wanna touch me, y/n? You wanna play with my hair? My dick?"

You nodded and reached down to his pants. You cupped your hand around his bulge and squeezed it lightly. He moaned and you loved the sound of his voice. "I wanna do so much more than that, Draken. But … am I crazy for wanting this?" You laughed.

"Oh, you're definitely crazy, baby. An' that's just how I like it." He pushed you back against the chair and softly wrapped his lips around your pointed nipple and dragged his tongue over it.

You shifted in the seat and let out a small whimper. "Fuck that feels so good. I don't know if it's because you've been drilling on me all day or if I just really - I really want you, Draken." You pulled on his hair and he moaned again. He moved his hand up your leg and slipped it into your jeans, feeling how wet you were.

"Well, I guess I was right about something today, huh?" He laughed and unbuttoned your pants. He pulled them down just enough so he could get his fingers inside of you. "You wanna fuck me, y/n? Right here in my booth? You gonna let me fill you up - make you cum all over my cock."

You nodded, unable to form words.

He pulled his fingers out of you and unzipped his pants, pulling them down and sitting back on the edge of the table. He stroked himself a few times and looked back at you. "C'mon kitten, need this dick?"

You sat up and straddled him, holding your weight up enough so that he could slide himself into you. You let out a low moan as he filled you up, your pussy clenching around him. "Holy shit, you feel so fucking good," you moaned. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your breath all but stopped it's exchange with the space around you.

He started to move his hips and you rode him, rolling them and bouncing up and down on his cock. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, feeling him moan into your mouth. His hands were at your waist, guiding you up and down and you felt so fucking good.

"Fuck, y/n, arch your back, stick your tits up, wan' 'em in my mouth." He said, his voice muffled by your chest. You leaned back, he pushed your breasts together and he latched onto them. Massaging them, sucking and biting on your nipples. You felt like you were in a dream, your body humming with pleasure and pain from the abused inches of your skin.

You slowed your movements to feel him better. His cock was hot and dragging against your walls so perfectly that you almost didn't want to cum. You didn't want this to ever stop. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and he moaned, his body tensing up as he came inside of you.

"Fuck, y/n, cum for me, cum all over this dick, baby." He moaned as you ground your hips against his, rubbing your clit against his abdomen. You let yourself go, your body tightening and releasing with the orgasm that washed over you.

You breathed heavily and leaned forward to rest your head on his shoulder. "Wow, Draken. I ... that was..." you trailed off.

He laughed, "It was, huh?"

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah. It was. But I really like your work." 

Your work? You thought. Why did you say that.

"My 'work'? That's what you like? Heh, well, I'm glad?" He chuckled, shaking his head softly. "I'd say the same for you but, I think that'd be weird since I just fucked you and you're still sitting on my dick." He pushed your hair away from your face and kissed you gently on the forehead. "But, you know, I do like your ‘work’, too. It's beautiful. And you're beautiful. And I can't wait to see the finished product." He said, smiling.

You smiled back and leaned in to kiss him again, this time on the lips. "Me too. I'm excited to see it." You blushed and slowly lifted yourself off of him, wincing as he slipped out of you. "God. I hate this part." You pouted.

"Me too, but I think I can make it better. I wanna take you out, y/n. Let me take you out?" He asked, getting up to put his pants back on.

You nodded, smiling. "I'd love that." You grabbed your bra and shirt and held them against your chest as you watched him walk back to the sink and start washing his hands.

"Deal. We should wait a few days after your tattoo has healed up before we go out. Don't wanna get it infected or anything." He laughed, drying his hands on a paper towel.

You laughed too and nodded in agreement. "Sounds good. I guess that gives me time to plan what I'm gonna do next." 

“Do next?” he asked zipping his black jeans and fastening his belt.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got more ideas.” You turned your back to him and he helped you fasten your bra 

around the wrapping.

“Tattoo ideas … orrr …?” He spun you around by your shoulders and tipped your face up with his fingers.

“Would you laugh if I said both?” 

“No. I wouldn’t laugh. I’d say ‘when’?”

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #ken ryuuguji #ken ryuuguji x you #ken ryuuguji x reader #draken x reader #draken x you #draken x y/n #draken tokyo revengers #draken tokrev #tokyo revengers draken #x reader smut #x female reader #draken x fem reader

[whumpsoda]

if ur doing prompts may I request a pet whump where pets are so common that there’s been a serum invented to take away higher cognitive functions from whumpee’s and overload them in oxytocin. so while still them—they can’t understand how to read and miss many conversation cues. all they know is that they used to be scared, they’re treated nicely, and enjoy sitting by the fire

Inspiration finally struck, and I can’t say no to pet whump!! Taglist: @softvampirewhump

cw: mentions of vomit, pet whump, dehumanization, drug use, injection and needle

———————————————————————

The rugged man sighed, gazing down at the man defrosting at his feet. “Alright darlin’. It’s time for your medicine.” Whumper’s thick, gloved thumb glazed over his pet’s frosty cheek.

“Mmm…” the pet hummed, the words of his master practically flowing right over his head. Whumpee was far too enraptured in the sensation of the growing fire warming his chilled skin, as well as the plush feel of the blanket which engulfed him. 

Whumpee couldn’t exactly recall how he’d gotten so cold in the first place, but wasn’t very concerned with it. He’d probably just gotten carried away outside again. He just got so excited when Master would let him out, even in such a brutal winter. All that mattered was how nice and comfortable he was now, anyway.

He snuggled eagerly into the stroke of affection on his face, a lazy smile resting on his lips. 

Whumper was trying to pull away from his beloved book, an impossibly large one Whumpee had seen him engulfed in for days now. The pet was always shocked that Master was so smart, being able to get through such a thing, and even enjoying it.

Master flicked swiftly through the pages, the crinkle of paper mixing with the pop and crackle of the fire. The pleasant beat of heat on Whumpee’s skin was beyond enjoyable, and if he had a choice he would most definitely choose to be in such a state forever.

Reading, or trying to at the very least, was always a painful experience for Whumpee, a situation he was not a fan of. A pet wasn’t exactly fit for reading in the first place though, so it was never much of a problem he dwelled on.

Master’s fingers began to slip from his head, tempting to pull away. At the notice of Whumper’s touch beginning to waver, the pet desperately pushed his head back into the man’s hand.

He simply chuckled in response. “I need to get your meds, sweet. It’ll take just a moment ‘n I’ll be right back.” 

Whumpee whimpered dejectedly, savoring the last of the contact before his master fully pulled away. He held back the urge to beg for more, instead opting to be grateful that Master had been kind enough to grant him such a gift in the first place.

Whumper pushed his tired limbs from his beloved leather chair next to the fire place, his thick socks shuffling on the floor as he walked past. The pet could faintly pick up the noise of his master bumbling around the kitchen, gradually becoming increasingly nervous with what was to come.

Whumpee didn’t like the injections, or the medicine itself. The injection hurt, and no matter how slight or insignificant, he did not like it. He especially wasn’t fond of the way the drugs made him feel, spinning his animal brain in circles and bringing bile up his throat.

But he couldn’t not have the medication. All pets took it, he knew that much. And if Master said he needed it, then there was no doubt he did! Even if no amount of good behavior could seemingly get him out of it.

Whumpee was snapped from his thoughts by the sudden sight of Whumper towering over him, sweetly ruffling his damp hair. The pet wished he could have enjoyed the affection more, as his stomach churned with growing discomfort.

He wriggled in his fuzzy fabric pile, becoming visibly upset as he listened to Whumper ready his tools. “Hush, boy, you’ll be fine. Same stuff as always.” 

The words did close to nothing to calm his nerves, simply washing through one ear and rippling out the other. His struggles were only halted by the commanding grasp of his master’s glove on his chin.

Master was strong, strong enough to punish any slight disobedience in the blink of an eye. As much as Whumpee disliked it, he quieted his dismay.

“I know you hate it, but there’s no way around it. Your meds help you stay such a good boy. Don’t wanna turn naughty now, do you?” Master questioned.

Whumpee shook his head energetically, staring up with pleading eyes. Of course he didn’t want to be bad! He wouldn’t dream of it, Master had to know that!

As if the pet had answered aloud, the other man gave him a satisfactory smile. “Of course you wouldn’t. So be a good boy and stay still for Master, alright?” 

Whumpee tried his very hardest to keep himself still and tense, only guided by the clutch on his chin. He fearfully clamped his eyes tight, sticking his lids together with all of his might.

Familiar sounds spread around him, ones he desperately tried to shut out in fear of making any mistakes that could irritate his master. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Just one moment and we’ll be all done. Still for just one more second.” 

Master’s soothing voice licked his delicate ears, almost distracting him from the sense of the needle descending to his pale flesh. 

The prick of the edge puncturing his skin was almost instant, as well as scarily alarming. Practically against his own will Whumpee lurched forward, the nick seering in a jolt of pain. Whumper gripped his frame firmly in response, almost painfully so.

Whumpee squealed frightfully. Pet didn’t like it! He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it! Master always said it wasn’t a punishment, yet it always felt like it! 

Whumper’s gloves dug into his exposed skin, only encouraging Whumpee to struggle more. 

“Okay, okay, we’re done!” The grip restraining Whumpee disappeared in an instant, leaving the ghost of an angry touch.

His breaths continued, yet ragged and shaky. He noticed the creep of tears in his eyes, no matter how eager he was to prevent them. Whumper cleaned up his tools, gathering them to return to their rightful spot to ready them for the next time. “S’all over now, boy. We’re all done.” Master soothed, a slight tinge of annoyance prevalent.

A light flame of anger lit deep inside of the pet. It wasn’t over, not yet. 

Whumpee jerked forward yet again, grabbing for the rug below him to contain himself. A wave of painful thickness was settling over him. His vision was quickly growing fuzzy and bleak, the room swaying around him. A warm, thick slurry rose, sliding up his throat and lingering just there. He tried to regain himself, an act that quickly became futile as his strength lessened. The pet’s limbs shook, weakened and afraid.

With glossy eyes and sickly sight he searched for his master, who was sitting comfortably in his chair once again. Whumpee could only make out a pleased smile on the man’s face as the pet clung to his pant leg. 

Whumpee gagged fearfully, the sick sense tainting his throat. His brain was swimming, cotton and clouds making their way inside. His thoughts were becoming gummy, slowing and allowing himself to calm. Coherency was hard to reach, and he soon gave up on the task.  As long as Master was around, he’d be fine.

Whumper put a hand to his pet’s swaying head, guiding the man against his own leg. Whumpee’s sluggish muscles were thankful for the help, surrendering to Master’s whims. 

With his thoughts so hard to reach, his limbs so tired, and the pain subsiding, Whumpee was gradually calming, melting into his master. Hearing was fuzzy, as well as most things at the moment, but he could mostly make out Whumper’s purr of words.

“Relax now, darlin’. It’ll be fine in a bit. Gotta keep you all nice and good, right? Be a good boy and take a little nap while you’re all out’ve it.” Whumpee cuddled further into the man, desperate to follow him. His blanket was soon placed softly back on his shoulders, as his drool drowsily trickled onto crusty denim fabric.

Whumpee was losing consciousness, a pull he was fully willing to give in to. Master said he should, and so he would, simple as that. As long as he could be a good pet when he woke up, the hurt would all be worth it.

#asks :) #my writing #whump #whumpblr #pet whump #whump writing #drug whump #dehumanisation tw #pet whumpee #writing drabble

[breaddwoo]

-Just a Few Scratches-

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader

word count: 4.36k

warnings: injury/blood

desc: you get injured trying to solve xavier's problems for him. silly you :)

a/n: im having a field day writing all my fic ideas :)) can't decide if the next one will be another xavier or wednesday

edit: pt 2 is now posted! 🦭

"fuck, fuck!" xavier yelled, sprinting across the field of pine needles before him and leaping over bushes and rocks.

cold sweat dripped down his flushed face; he could feel tears sting the back of his eyes. xavier felt like he could puke as he ran, but only one thing occupied his mind:

"(y/n)!"

> > >

-5 hours prior-

“are you doing okay, xavier?" you ask with worry. after class you had to stay late to ask the teacher something, so it was a surprise when you found xavier sitting on a bench in the hallway with his head in his hands.

he jolted. looking up, he seemed tired. really tired. you noticed the purple bags under his eyes and the way his breathing appeared to be unsteady.

xavier tried to smile, but it instantly fell off his face when he met your gaze. he bit the inside of he cheek to keep salty tears from spilling out of his eyes.

"I... " he began, but it came out as a strangled sob.

the sight of his pitiful state filled you with worry, and you picked up your pace as you sped over to him.

standing in front of xavier, you ask, "have you been sleeping? you look like a wreck."

xavier laughed at this, quickly wiping away a tear that dared to escape, "yeah, i know. I'm just.." he looked down, "I'm just really stressed."

you stepped closer and he pressed the top of his head to your stomach, refusing to look at you as he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist.

you began to move your hand to pat his head, but hesitated. "can i...?"

without hearing the rest, xavier said, "please."

this consent allowed you to weave your fingers through his hair. "do you want to talk about it?" you asked in a low voice, afraid that somehow, despite the hall's vacancy, someone would hear this sensitive conversation.

he was quiet for a few moments, considering his words.

"it's... wednesday. i'm so, so tired of her- of her blaming me! always saying i'm a mass murdering monster! it fucking hurts and she keeps finding new evidence that genuinely makes sense, " his voice is strained as he tightens his hold, "but i can't do anything to convince her it's not me. and she even found my art studio, which just makes me look worse."

seeing him like this made you want to cry, but you restrained yourself because this wasn't about you; this was about xavier.

"i'm so fucking scared that she's going to get me locked up. i can't even blame her- all of the evidence points directly at me! and these nightmares, they plague me in my sleep and i wake up screaming and then i can't go back to sleep so i've just been painting that fucking thing so i-" his rambling is cut short when he hiccups through his frustrated tears. he felt angry and hurt and afraid.

you leaned down to hug his head, pushing his face into your tummy as he sniffles. "i'm sorry, xavier. i wish there was something i could do."

xavier looked up from your (now wet) shirt to say, "just listening is enough. don't worry about it, hopefully everything will fix itself soon."

and as he rested his head once more, an idea came to you.

there's a way to help xavier.

> > >

three knocks and wednesday was ready to order thing to strangle the person at the door.

she lifted from her desk, about to tell off the perpetrator for interrupting her writing time. when she opened the door, however, she recognized you as the person that xavier constantly follows around.

"enid isn't here," she said point blank, beginning to shut the door. you stick your hand out and risked amputation to make sure it doesn't close, "actually, im here to see you."

wednesday narrowed her dead eyes, "go on then. explain."

"i need to know where the hyde's lair is."

wednesday's facial expression didn't change, but you could tell she was confused.

"why don't you ask xavier? he would know."

the fake smile that you wore to feign being nice dropped. instead, you replaced it with a tight, irritated line on your lips.

"haha, yeah, i would. yknow, if he were the hyde. but here i am, asking you. why do you think that is?" you said all this with a lighthearted tone through clenched teeth.

wednesday could read the passive aggressiveness of your words but decided to press on, "try looking at his gallery of police evidence. that would give you the answer you're looking for."

with that, the door closed and you soon heard the sharp clicks of a type writer. you knew she was talking about xavier's art studio, but he hasn't allowed you in since people started dying around the school.

you decided that the only way to enact your plan would be to sneak into the renovated shed. sneaking in you could do, but distracting him for enough time to find something was completely different.

fuck, this is gonna be hard.

> > >

in the end, enid was your best bet. your plan was for enid to ask him for help on a subject and get him to tutor her for a bit in the library.

she agreed immediately, hoping it would also make ajax jealous; it was a win-win situation.

though, when she asked, you would not tell her why you needed her to do this in the first place. she was skeptical but trusted that you were doing it for a good reason.

finding the studio was easy, you had been there so many times that you knew the trail like the back of your hand. you were xavier's rock after his breakup with bianca, so it made sense that he'd commonly invite you to paint with him in his secret hideout.

when you made it there, you took no time to begin searching every single art piece for a deeper meaning. xavier mentioned that he was having nightmares about the foretold monster, but wouldn't allow you to see the art "for your own safety".

there was nothing of value on the walls and canvases, so you turned to plan b.

you bent down to the trash, fishing through it, hoping you'd find something important. about ten pieces of paper had been uncrumpled by the time you found something worth your dumpster diving.

"there it is!" you excitedly whisper-scream to yourself.

it was a drawing of the monster in front of a familiar cave. though its name and exact location eluded you, there was someone who would know those exact details.

later, after asking eugene if he knew anything considering you'd seen him working alongside wednesday on the investigation, you set the final steps of your plan in motion.

it is here that you will find out who the hyde is, if only to relieve xavier of his stress.

> > >

"enid, we've gone over this topic, like, ten times. i think you're just a lost cause," xavier said in exasperation. he had been attempting to teach enid the different geometrical formulas but she hasn't understood a single word he's said in the past two hours.

xavier, giving up, grabs his phone off the library table to check his notifications.

"huh, that's weird."

"what?" enid asked.

"(y/n) hasn't texted me. usually she'd have sent several messages asking to hang or something by now," he frowned, his expression a dark overcast.

enid, feeling something was off, finally broke, "uhm, well, (y/n) kind of asked me to distract you. im not really sure what for, but she did mention something about an art studio?"

xavier's heart lept in his chest. "what?"

"yeah, sorry, i felt she had a good reason but now i'm a little worried, " enid replied with an awkward laugh.

he wracked his brain for any reason that you might have had to go to his studio. a surprise? was she curious about the paintings i wouldn't let her see? why would she need to sneak around to do it?

instead of searching for an answer that wouldn't come to him, xavier stood from the table, gave a small "thanks", and left the library in a hurry.

at the studio, he found nothing amiss. none of the paintings were gone and nothing had been moved.

that's what he thought, however, until he saw the trash can laying on its side in the corner of the room. kneeling, he sifted through the scattered, unfolded papers.

his eyebrows knitted together in further confusion. what is missing?

then it hit him:

the drawing of the hyde's lair.

xavier didn't know exactly what you were up to, but he knew with every fiber of his being that it was definitely dangerous. he was absolutely terrified.

the doors burst open as xavier ran out of the studio, an unwelcome gust of wind blowing many of the drawings off the walls. at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

a mirage of trees passed him by as he sprinted. the nighttime autumn air was far too cold for the season.

"fuck, fuck!"

the words were strangled and every noise around him felt muffled; all he could hear was the crunching of the leaves beneath his racing feet and his own hammering heartbeat.

"(y/n)!" he shouted, the distress in his voice echoing back at him.

xavier slowed to a stop, unable to tell where he had gone in his desperation to find you. he took a second to breathe when a shrill scream sounded from an unknown direction.

the scream of a girl. a girl who was horrified, or worse, in danger.

and he would know that voice from anywhere. it was someone familiar; someone close to him. the person most important to him.

"(y/n)! where are you!?" he yelled in response, but the forest had turned into something akin to a funhouse mirror maze and he couldn't tell left from right.

xavier heard footsteps running toward him at a high speed, and just as he began dash in the similar direction, you came into full view.

pain spread through his chest as you slammed into him, sending you both crashing to the moist soil beneath.

you were laying on top of him now; shaking with labored breaths.

it rook a moment for xavier to process what had happened, but he wrapped his arms around you with little delay.

"you- are you okay!? what were you doing!? are you stupid!? there's a fucking monster on the loose and you-"

he shut his mouth when saw a steadily growing red patch on his shirt.

"you're bleeding! oh shit, we need to get you back to nevermore fast," he was quick to hold you, your body laying bridal style across his arms.

you winced in pain, sobbing out the words, "i'm sorry. i'm sorry xavier, i just wanted to help. i really wanted to help. i'm sorry."

xavier didn't give a shit about your apology. he wasn't mad at you. he was mad at that thing that hurt you. he was fucking furious.

he had many, many things to say to you but for now, he'd let you rest in his arms.

he then headed back in the direction he had come from, you now tucked safely in his embrace.

> > >

once the final stitch was in, xavier was allowed to visit your hospital room.

the bright white lights made him feel sick. even more so when he saw you sitting in bed with a hospital gown and an IV drip in your arm.

the moment he walked in, you gave him a warm, content smile.

"is right now really a good time for you to be smiling?" xavier questioned, sitting on a seat next to the bed.

you held the hand that he placed on the edge of the sheets, "well, i was able to achieve my goal."

"at the cost of several pints of blood and a couple scars on your arm? what was worth that?" he asked, unrestrainable anger surfacing on his face.

though, when he took in the finer details of your state, he couldn't help but soften. many scrapes graced your skin from the collision earlier; the complexion of your face much paler than normal.

rubbing his knuckles to ease his frustration, you say, "i was able to convince wednesday that you're not the hyde. how could she believe that out of all the people you could attack, you'd attack me?"

something clicked in xavier's head and it all made sense. this all started after his breakdown in the hallway, caused by wednesday's meddling. the sneaking around, stealing his drawing and going off into the woods.

"so you did this on purpose? you scared me half to death!" he bursted, his emotions a flurry of love, anger, and guilt.

"so what if i did? it's just a few scratches."

god, he loved you. could you believe he had yet to even ask you out?

#wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x reader #enid sinclair #wednesday imagine #xavier thorpe imagine

[suresne]

writing my young harry/kim au has me thinking about how it seems pretty clear that harry regretted leaving his gym teaching job before his amnesia. the mentions of harry’s teaching days are tinged with nostalgia and melancholy that don’t seem to just be caused by harry idealizing his youth or the years he was still with dora:

[Og] *468. YOU - "You said in Couron? I was a gym teacher there?"

[Og] *396. JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Yes, you *taught gym* in Couron. I believe that's the term? Taught gym at a high school. You were a high school gym teacher."

[Og] *508. PERCEPTION (SMELL) - The smell of sweat and glue, the worn floorboards...

[Og] *549. ENCYCLOPEDIA - Couron is just east of Jamrock. It was a short walk, every morning -- to the baseball field or the sports building...

this shivers check with annette in particular makes me insane

[Og] *110. YOU - "Shouldn't you be at school or something?"

[Og] *149. ANNETTE - "I do my studies at home at the moment. I have to help Mum keep this place running."

[Og] *530. YOU - "What is *school* anyway?"

[Og] *256. ANNETTE - "School?" She rubs her red, chilled nose. "Well, mine is a big yellow building on Boogie Street. And the people there run it. They say it's a *charity*."

[Og] *711. SHIVERS - The gale wind blows in from the coast, a wind of needles. It wraps itself around a building of brick and mortar. Somewhere, a clamor rings through the honeycomb of classrooms.

[Og] *315. YOU - What is this feeling?

[Og] *662. SHIVERS - Remorse. The parquet of assembly halls, the rows of stall bars are growing cold. The corridors stand empty. A girl's voice somehow finds its way through this strange feeling...

thinking about how harry would have been a great teacher to “problem” kids. how he would have understood and empathized with their hyperactivity/lack of focus/lack of impulse control. how he would be encouraging and funny and a good influence on kids who probably had difficult lives

thinking about how the RCM would take all of that away from him…..

#lying on the floor #harry du bois #disco elysium #my meta #de character meta

[allkordelia]

Enemies to...Friends?

You were in the caves tending to your dragon when a screeching came from above, both you and your dragon looked up to the sky to see the rogue prince dragon, caraxes, fly above before landing on the ground. Your gazed turned back to your beautiful dark green and brown beast noticing how she was longingly looking at the blood wyrm, you shook your head as you rubbed her neck.

For a while you notice that your dragon has taken a liking to caraxes and vise versa, you would be happy that your dragon had a little beau if only that beau didn't belong to Daemon Targaryen. You didn't have a problem with the rogue prince only because you didn't know him well enough to but it seems he had a problem with you, he would spit horrible names like "Silver Cunt" and "Sea Whore" at you whenever you cross path. It was a bit childish since he was ten years your elder, it was like a never ending nightmare when he was around you tried to act civil and ignore his nasty behavior but after a well it grown a bit too much to handle so you stayed home in diftmark.

The only reason your here now is because your father wanted company on his journey to see the king, well his there you were here in the pit keeping your dragon company. As if sensing your mood change your dragon snort nudge you out of your thoughts, you glance over at daemon and caraxes to see him staring at you making you turn away. A noise came from your dragon making you look up like her you sense she wanted to go to him, you sighed patting her side before taking a step back.

"Alright, alright, you can go." The dragon didn't waste time as she made her way over to caraxes laying her head next to his own, you frown a bit kinda jealous that your own dragon got itself a mate well your still single and alone.

"Odd, isn't it." You side eyed daemon who appeared next to you.

"What?" He glanced down at you as you still watched the two dragon.

"Both of our dragons have taken a liking to one another well we somehow despise each other." You make a face at this words before bending down taking your broken saddle from the ground.

"You make it sound like you don't know the reason why," you said walking over to one of the dragonkeepers with daemon following close behind.

"Oh, I know but I'm beginning to think you don't." His words caught you off guard making you cut your hand on the saddle gear.

"Fuck!" You looked down at the cut on your palm, the dragons looked your way as you held your hand out so the blood won't get on your dress.

"Go. Get us a cloth." He demanded from the dragonkeeper causing them to hurry off before leading you to take a seat well he held your hand.

"What you doing with that." You watched as daemon took out a flask and untwist the top.

"Cleaning the wound." You winced twisting your eyes shut at the burning pain, the dragonkeeper came back with medical supplies before leaving to send for a carriage.

"Where have you been these last couple of months." You looked in pain at daemon who was using the cloth to stop the bleeding.

"Home." He looked up at you before moving the cloth to see the bleeding has stop before gathering the needle and thread.

"Shouldn't we just wait until we get back to the castle, and let the maester do it." You said fearful not trusting daemon with a sharp object.

"We can. But, than your hand is gonna get even more infected and then the maester gonna have to cut it off." He looked back up at you with a mock smile, you rolled your eyes before nodding.

"Are you sure you know what your doing?" He examined the thread making sure the knot is tight.

"Yes, I've done this thousand time when I was on the battlefield." You groaned in pain as he stacked the needle in your hand, they were quiet as daemon was concentrating in sewing your hand up.

He finally finish bending down a bit breaking the thread with his teeth, you looked at him feeling his lips against the palm of your hand before looking away.

"Do you remember the day the great council made my brother king." He asked grabbing the gauze, you looked up at him before shrugging.

"Not really, I was twelve then...and I may or may not had too much to drink on that day." She let out a shaky chuckle making Daemon give her a raised eye brow.

"Didn't know you drink."

"I don't...that was my first time my cousin and I had stolen wine from my father's cabinet on The Sea Snake." A small smirk appeared on daemon's face at his cousin mischief.

"Well, I do and I remember over hearing a conversation between you two." He started wiping her hand she tilted her head to the side a bit perplexed.

"What about?"

"Me." You furrowed your brows before glancing down at how tight he was wrapping you hand.

"Daemon–"

"You said if viserys didn't get a son, does that mean we're stuck with me." You hissed as his thumb held pressure on your covered wound.

"Daemon!–"

"Do you remember what you said next because from what I can remember you said the last thing we need is another vicious king starting wars because his bored." You finally snatched your hand away from his grip as he glared at you, you look at him as you held your hand to your chest.

"Your fucking psychotic you know that for fuck sake that was ten years ago." She snapped.

"Yeah, ten years of everyone living off your words, calling me another maegor convincing my brother I was unfit to be his heir. Is that how you see me...cruel. " You looked away from him looking down at her feet.

"No." You whispered.

"Then why say it." You looked up at him with a sad and gulity look.

"Because I was bitter and hurt, I didn't mean for anyone to hear me. I'm sorry, Daemon." The rogue prince let out a huffed as he leaned against the wall crossing his arm, he glanced over at you as you tried to wipe your hand. He pushed your hand away as he grabbed your bandage hand and started to wrap it properly.

"You would have made a good queen." He stated not looking at you.

"And you would probably made a good hand." He scoffed giving her a smile.

"Too boring for my taste, but you know what's not boring." You raised a brow at him curious.

"What?"

"Riding to Dorne to see the fireworks." You hmmed narrowing your eyes at him.

"Are you asking me on a date, daemon."

"More of a assignation." You rolled your eyes with a slight smile before nodding.

"Fine. Only if you take me to Old Town next." He stood up turning his body towards her, he pulled out his hand for you to take.

"Deal." You gave him your unbandage hand before getting up, he linked your hands togther walking over to the dragons.

"This isn't some ploy to sleep with me is it." You asked out of curiosity still holding his hand.

"You think that lowly of me, cousin." He said mock hurt putting his empty hand over his heart.

"I don't know would you accompany a man known for being the lord of fleabottom." You asked him.

"Yeah, he sounds fun." He smirked.

"Of course you would say that." Your dragon lowered her upper body making you check that the new saddle on her was settled, before mounting her you looked over at daemon who spoke.

"How about we make things interesting."

"What did you have in mind." You asked watching him mount caraxes.

"Let's see whose can make it to dorne the fastest." Both dragon started walking to the opening of the cave.

"What do I get if I win." You asked.

"What do you want." You thought about it.

"I always wanted to go to silk street." Dsemon raised his brows at you.

"Only to drink and observe." He chuckled before nodding.

"Okay, I'll take you maybe if your lucky you see me in all my glory." He gave her a look making roll her eyes.

"What about you?" He made a look as if he was thinking before shrugging.

"A late night visit from you would be a nice reward." He smirked, you blow a raspberry before laughing.

"In your dreams, dragon prince." You held your reins before shouting in valyrian.

"Jēdar." Sky.

The dragon wings flew opened as she shoot up into the sky, Daemon looked after her in astonishment.

"....clever little serpent." He said with a sly smile, he shouted in valyrian causing caxaes to screech before shooting into the air after you.

#daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x y/n #asoiaf #asoif/got #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house velaryon #house hightower #daemon targaryen x black!reader #asoifedit #asoif fanart #game of thrones #hotd #blackoc #black!reader #black oc #x black reader

[thegatorsgoose]

Mourning Dove notes, batch #1

So since I am a very visual thinker, whenever I post my ideas (that aren't in-the-moment rants, that is) I like to draw something for it. It's the closest thing I can get to transferring something directly from my brain to yours. Unfortunately, I have a lot of thoughts, which means I have a lot of drawings I want to make to help get my points across. And since it's easier to write my ideas down as they come to me anyway, I'll be posting Mourning Dove stuff in batches, drawing + notes = a batch :)

Speaking of the drawing part, this is actually a redraw of fanart I did for Wayne's Haunted Mansion I drew a while ago, so you can actually use the bear as a size reference! He's bigger than Bearwing now, but to be fair the bears not that big. Danny, at 14, is 5”2 at most, probably closer to 5’0. He's still a small king.

I decided to have him be 14 when he becomes a vigilante because 1. That seems like a reasonable amount of time for him to have recovered mentally and physically enough for him to be able to handle unfamiliar environments and have the training necessary to be cautious and know when and how to step in (at least 4 years of training + his powers make him a tiny terror).

2. Yo Danny Phantom he was just 14

This batch is going to be dedicated to why Danny is this au has autism and ADHD, and how that affects him. The why will come from the original fanfic this au is based on, Wayne’s Haunted Mansion by @tathartiel (which you should definitely read if you enjoy dp x dc!). How it affects him will mostly be part of the au. Ok? Ok. I tend to ramble a bit but I tried to make it easy to follow.

First of all, Danny enjoys knitting! He's already sewing, it's only the natural progression for him to find out about knitting, and the family would definitely try to encourage the hobby with less sharp tools. It gives him something to do with his hands, and at the end of the day he has something he made all by himself, something he can be proud of. He loves making stuff for people he cares about, he likes knowing he can do something to keep his loved ones warm, whether by making a blanket, scarf, sweater- you name it. He's definitely not great at first, but he does practice a lot. Whenever he's nervous or fidgety, it's nice to do something with his hands.

One of his favorite parts of knitting is the yarn itself. Specifically the texture and feel of certain yarns. The Waynes are rich so they have no problem supplying him with extremely soft yarns to make the softest sweaters and blankets. And you know how he loves pillows? Well I'd imagine that he’d also love the extremely thick, pillowy yarn. He uses it to make a huge blanket that enhances his pillow nest 10 fold. The day he got a giant roll of thick fluffy yarn he spent all day making a giant fluffy blanket out of it, and the following night shoving it in the birds and bats faces so they can experience the bliss that is the feeling of his new soft, pillowy creation.

Speaking of textures, Danny loves hoodies, especially his Batman hoodie(s). Not only so that he can physically show his appreciation for his family, but that they are warm and soft on the inside, and make him feel secure. His siblings have all gotten him their merch at one point or another, but it wasn't until Jason got him Red Hood merch in the form of a leather jacket did they realize that texture could be a problem. The inside was just not working for Danny, but he was happy to have merch so he tried to ignore it to make Jason happy. It lasted until dinner that night, Danny had a breakdown because the uncomfortable feel of the jacket was agitating him and suddenly the klinks of silverware on plates was to loud, the scrapes and stabs of forks hitting the plates felt like he was physically being hit on the head, and the vibration of the table when someone moved felt like pins and needles going through his arms that were resting on the table. It all became too much for him and he excused himself from the table with a wobbly chirp before promptly disappearing.

It wasn't until later that night, before Jason left, that he reappeared in front of him, tears in his eyes, and handed back the jacket with a guilty chirp. It took Jason some prodding to get Danny to explain why he was handing it back, and then when he finally understood it took a lot more convincing to get Danny to understand it's ok to not like the jacket, no i'm not mad at you, its ok. After he got Danny to calm down he left the manor and informed the rest of the group chat of the new development… and then got Danny another, comfier Red Hood jacket. Bruce, having autism himself (i'm not even sure if that's a headcanon or canon at this point), helps Danny in making sure he knows its ok to feel that way about certain textures and asks what textures he likes and doesn't like, even writes them down so when buying something online or getting something tailored, they can make sure it won't be uncomfortable. His siblings 100% take advantage of this list and start a sort of unspoken competition of who can buy Danny his favorite piece of merch.

Speaking of merch, he has a hoodie of every single Gotham vigilante and wears one almost 24/7. The media was given the vague explanation that Batman saved him from a physically abusive household at 10 (or whatever his age ends up actually being, they don't reveal his existence to the world until he's 12, where by that point he can change back into his human form comfortably. I'm making the assumption he eventually can for the au cus I don’t know everything) so they just assume it's hero worship from that. His siblings however know that it's because he loves them and thinks they're the coolest people ever. Everyone thinks he's adorable anyway. When he first saw Mourning Dove merch he was super excited, until he realized it would be too uncomfortable to wear. Later that week when Bruce gives him a tailor made Dove hoodie, he cried. (Bruce totally won the competition for it, the kids are just a little bitter about it)

Merch was made for him because Gotham does know Mourning Dove exists, mostly from eye witness accounts of the baddies he took down, but also from the literal one blurry video of him that exists. It shows Dove holding onto Batman's cape as Red Robin talks. This was taken on his first official patrol, so he was a little nervous. At first Gotham was mad at Batman for bringing yet another child into the fold, until all the criminals Dove brought in came back terrified. They realized they really should have learned their lesson from the latest Robin, and now just respect their funky shadow child.

However Dove doesn't actually come out all that often. He started his vigilante career because he got wrapped up in the supernatural side of Gotham, at first it was just helping the occasional stray ghost find their haunt, but you know how dangerous magic and the supernatural world can get in just the blink of an eye. Think Jujutsu Kaisen, he was able to see Gotham spirits causing and feeding off of citizens misery, and he just can't not help. When the Batfam realizes what he's doing, he's fully committed to helping the spirit of Gotham deal with her curse. They know there's nothing they can do to stop him, so they do the next best thing and give him armor, a mask and a weapon. They also up his training, which they had been doing before because… it's Gotham. So Mourning Dove doesn't actually come out as often as the others, just either when they're down on members, there's an emergency and need his powers, they want to teach him something, or when he just asks.

… Anyway, back on topic. Another way his autism affects him is making him mostly nonverbal/selectively mute. I'm making the assumption that they eventually do get his voice back, but at that point he can adequately communicate without his voice, using chirps and gestures. He knows now that if he needs to talk (talking to a stranger, needing to explain something more complicated, etc) he usually can. Usually. If he's stressed or uncomfortable in any way, he often finds that he can't talk. Thankfully he's been learning sign language for a few years now and can get across simple ideas and feelings just fine in a pinch. And sometimes, he doesn't even feel bad. And yet still, he can't find it in himself to speak. In those cases, if he needs to explain something complicated, he can write it down. He's gotten a lot better! And if he ever trips up, he can always look it up or use autocorrect if it's over text.

Another thing his trama definitely made a lot worse is that he has episodes of hypersensitivity. An analogy I once heard is that most minds are like doors, and most people can choose to shut the door on small pieces of information that are deemed unnecessary. Like the ticking of a clock, or the scratching of pencils around a classroom. But people with adhd can’t choose to closes those doors, and the flood of information can easily overstimulate us. With his super hearing this definitely becomes a problem, and I can only imagine it gets worse when in crowds. I actually already talked about this, with bad textures. Often we can ignore the extra sensory input and go on with our day, but when faced with something that agitates us, it opens the floodgates to make everything agitate us. The sounds of dinner don't usually annoy Danny, but with the extra bad sensory input that he just couldn't ignore, it made it so he couldn't ignore other pieces of input like usual, and it became too much for him. I usually counteract overstimulation by wearing headphones or earbuds, and while I know Danny definitely has noise canceling devices made for the supers with him 24/7 just in case, I think he deals with it, again, by controlling the texture of the cloths he’s wearing and using it to fidget. He counteracts the negative input by surrounding himself with positive input. If he's not in public or that doesnt work, he’ll curl up into himself and rock back and forth, countering the input with a soothing motion and clenching onto his skin like a stress ball. Of course, that's if Cujo, his service dog, isn't there to help him through it.

One thing that carries over into the future is his short attention span. curse you ADHD! He has trouble sitting still and concentrating on a task that doesn't interest him. However he still LOVES space, and often hyperfixates on it. He’ll sit in front of the tv or a tablet and watch documentaries for hours without moving an inch. The first time this happened the batfam where scared something was wrong, maybe he's having an episode and can't move? But when they approached him to see if he was alright he started wildly flapping his arms and letting out excited chirps, till he noticed the look on their face and got out his phone. An hour later he sent them a poorly written, excited and long text about his favorite star in the galaxy to the family group chat. Suffice it to say, space is his special interest. Since then they started using it as a way to get him to sit still or to distract him. Often it helps to play a documentary in the background while he does a task that doesn't interest him so he won't get so bored he up and leaves.

Last but not least, he has trouble understanding social cues. This is absolutely not helped by how sheltered he is in the social department. Danny's part ghost, and ghosts don’t really lie. It's just not a thing they do. They are loud and honest with their intentions, no beating around the bush. Danny just doesn't understand why people aren't straightforward as well. Danny is very honest and says exactly what he means. I always find this ironic when reading the actual story, that the one person in the family (minus Alfred) that's good at communicating can't talk. This is something that becomes an issue with Bruce and his habit of not using his words to talk. I'd like to imagine that, in trying to set a good example for his youngest son yet, he’d realize the importance of communication, and how he communicates.

You could argue that a lot of these traits come from his trauma, and you're absolutely right. It definitely contributes to making some of these traits a lot stronger than before in this au as well. However, I don't want to just make it all a trauma response because then it sort of implies something is… wrong with him. That there's something to fix. And I don't want him to be treated like that. There's nothing wrong with him liking hoodies. There's nothing wrong with him not wanting to talk. There's nothing wrong with him loving space so much. Those are just a part of who he is. Everyone has quirks, and those are his. I don't want the batfamily to obsess with fixing him, or try to make him “normal.” I want them to accommodate his needs like they do for everyone else in the family. I want them to accept him, and his flaws, like a normal person. Not look at him like he's broken. After everything, he deserves a family who accepts him, chirps and all.

Tldr of the last paragraph: making everything a trama thing makes people sad and want to help “fix” him instead of treating him like a normal person. I aint having that in my au so even if he wasn't hurt the way he was, he would still act like this. There's nothing wrong with Danny, he just needs to be accommodated for and treated like a normal person.

Bonus: close up and flat colors (idk if you can even see them but I am way more proud of those eyelashes than I have any right to be)

#art #digital art #my art #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny phantom #batman #fanart #dp x dc fanart #dp x dc fanfic #Wayne’s haunted mansion #mourning dove #mourning dove au

[britcision]

As promised, part two!

First Chapter:

Part One of this chapter:

————————

So That Just Happened part 2

In the bathroom, Jason turned the hot tap on as high as it’d go and stood over the sink, breathing in the steam. He just… he just needed to clear his head. Get his thoughts straight.

Sleep for the next six fucking weeks and make Pitty someone else’s problem, ideally.

The weight of Frostbite’s gift sat heavy in his pants pocket and he pulled the case out, shaking a single glowing ice chip into his hand. The rising temperature of the bathroom didn’t affect it at all, which didn’t surprise Jason.

He considered putting it under the stream of hot water but didn’t bother.

Frostbite said not to use them too much, or get too dependent on them. On the other hand, fuck today. So much.

He crushed the shard in his hand and shoved the pieces into his mouth. This time it tasted like ozone and limes, and stung the inside of his mouth. In a good way, though.

The rush of energy was the same, and Jason would swear he could feel his frayed edges slowly closing over. Not a real substitute for food or sleep, but sure as hell beat coffee.

He had a couple dozen more ice chips, which he tucked away in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. The mirror wasn’t supposed to have a cabinet, but it had been easy enough to make one, and so far none of his siblings had found it yet… if they even found this apartment.

(None of them would have been able to resist commenting on the collage he’d made across the back wall of their most “interesting” family photos. Or the little batburger figurines of each of their alter-egos.

Jason had made sure he got the worst ones on the market, and knew their exact positions. If a single one shifted, he’d know.)

It was on the outer edge of Crime Alley, far from the heart his family all expected him to hole up in, and the rest of the building was a completely unremarkable old library which had been abandoned before Jason was born.

Getting himself a well secured home had been easy to slip into the renovation plans; he’d had Bruce “buy” the building through Jason’s funds to start restoring it, keeping it well removed from Red Hood’s name. It was the first project he planned to put his own name on, now that he was officially alive again.

The Catherine Todd Memorial Library.

The building itself wasn’t open yet, the main part of it still being remodelled, but the needle drop off and exchange was already running from the front entrance.

This was home, as much as anywhere ever was. More than anywhere had ever been since Wayne Manor.

Jason tensed against the anger, but nothing rose this time. The ecto-ice had given him a flood of energy, the same almost static clarity, but he still felt drained. Like there was no anger left in him.

It would have been nice if it felt good.

The steam had fogged the mirror now, collecting in the air even against the bathroom’s fan. Shutting the tap off, Jason closed his eyes and sucked in a few more deep, fortifying breaths.

Maybe the ecto-ice had been a mistake. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep, but he wouldn’t be able to for at least a few hours now.

Patrol was out of the question. His body may be revitalized and humming with energy, but his head wasn’t in the game. Even Lady Gotham’s embrace couldn’t pull his scattered thoughts together.

What he needed was some mindless TV, some stupidly indulgent junk food, and a blanket. He’d heard… well, things about the new Sex and the City spinoff. Not exactly good things, but things.

Carrie Bradshaw’s not-problems could be the perfect backdrop to a night in.

Alfred would probably send him cookies if he asked. This being an emergency and all. Although… it wasn’t like they could explain the nature of the emergency without the whole ghost reveal.

… Probably still worth a try though.

His Red Hood phone was still at the safe house he’d slept in, but at least one of his spares for his civilian life should be in the apartment somewhere.

The steam had mostly cleared too, leaving the mirror only slightly foggy around the edges. Jason gave it a careful wipe down out of habit; dots on the mirror didn’t usually bother him, but… he’d put Catherine’s name on the building. He wanted to keep everything in it nice.

(Which was why a lot of stuff was unused.)

It wasn’t until he opened the door that he realized he really hadn’t said anything to Danny before disappearing.

Would he have left? Fuck, that’d be the obvious choice, wouldn’t it? Getting dropped off just inside a stranger’s door, and then they just walk away from you into the bathroom.

Shit, Danny had probably left. That… Jason didn’t know how to feel about that, and the empty hall only confirmed his suspicions.

On the one hand, he really wasn’t up to more talking. He didn’t even want to think about everything that had happened today, and especially not whatever the hell was lose in his city, trying to feed his rage. He couldn’t handle one more gentle reassurance that it was okay to be angry.

On the other hand, he really, really didn’t want to be alone. The noise from the TV and the snacks would cut it in a pinch, but the only thing he actually wanted right now was company. Quiet, nonjudgemental company.

He hadn’t told any of the bats about this safe house. Not even Bruce’s contractors knew he’d snuck it in. He’d wanted it to be safe from them and from everyone else, and now he could keep his fucking secrets at the cost of being alone.

A little heavy handed as a metaphor.

… Fuck, Alfred couldn’t even bring him cookies without knowing where he was.

He turned away from the hall and made for the bedroom to grab the spare phone, though he wasn’t sure who he’d message anymore. Just as he was debating the merits of messaging Cass and getting her to do him a delivery, a noise from the kitchen caught his attention. Hope rose, slowly and uncertainly. Had Danny not left?

… Why was Danny in his kitchen, when he was a self professed fire hazard?

Caution and concern flaring right alongside that hope, Jason backtracked and hurried to the kitchen.

**

There were not enough dirty dishes.

There was like, a mug, a coffee pot, and two plates. Really, Danny should have been done in minutes and fidgeting for something else to do.

But then he’d been looking for where to put the plates away, and he’d found a really impressive spice cabinet. Right next to the stovetop, made sense he guessed, though personally he preferred to keep the damn plates where they’d be used.

He’d perused a couple of labels on the little jars, mildly amused by how many he absolutely could not even guess at. What the fuck was “marjoram”? Or “zataar”?

So the logical thing to do had been open the jars for a sniff.

All well and good. He didn’t recognize most of the smells either, and couldn’t imagine why you’d put almost half of them in any kind of food, but some of them smelled really good.

But then he’d found the garlic powder.

Danny did not cook, as a rule. Sam cooked, mostly from spite, and she always used fresh smashed garlic. Danny’s youtuber chefs mostly said the jarred chopped stuff was fine, but what the fuck was garlic powder?

And what garlic powder was, was pungent. Really, really strongly scented, and super light. Just opening the jar had puffed up a cloud of the stuff, and Danny had been about to sniff it anyway and took a bigger huff than he intended.

And then he’d sneezed.

And now Jason’s entire kitchen was dusted in garlic powder, including the dishes he’d just washed and left on the counter while he found their homes.

So Danny panicked.

Trying to dust the garlic powder off the counters with his hands only got more of it into the air, and he wasn’t falling for that fucking trap again, no sir. He went ghost again and stopped fucking breathing is what he did, then grabbed a garlic covered towel and tried to wipe the powder into a pile.

No dice.

But Danny was a professional superhero. He calmed himself down. He stopped panicking. He went looking for a dustpan and brush like a sensible adult.

And then he heard the bathroom door open, froze like a deer in the headlights, and reflexively jerked straight off the floor.

Because right, he had fucking ghost powers.

At least he already hadn’t been breathing. Luckily, Jason seemed to need something from the other side of the apartment since his footsteps pretty much immediately moved away, and Danny let out another relieved breath.

He could still fix this. This would be fine. He could telekinetically pick up all the garlic dust, and throw it in the trash because a lot was on the floor and the rest was on him and also Every Other Surface On Earth, and buy Jason more tomorrow.

Before Jason came back from wherever else he was going and realized Danny was a fucking menace. Focusing hard, Danny let his aura suffuse the room and focused on the garlic powder. Willed it to lift off whatever it was touching, and come towards him.

Of course, some of it was now on the clean dishes, and in the mug. Which fell over as Danny pulled its powder coating away.

Jason’s footsteps immediately stopped. And then began hurrying towards him.

And maybe Danny panicked again, just a tiny bit, but the good news was he did not ice over the whole kitchen! He’d grown so much since Ghost Puberty Part 2 Electric Boogaloo! He was totally in control!

He just iced the dishes to the counter and froze the floating garlic powder, which was why Jason appeared in the doorway to see Danny floating like a fucking dumbass in the middle of his kitchen, surrounded by sparkling ice crystals.

Danny raised both hands immediately.

“I can explain.”

**

So the thing about Spiderheck. The really big pain in the ass thing. Was that every round was super unpredictable, even when you weren’t playing with superheroes trying to adapt their actual abilities to spider bodies.

There really was no way to know what would be a long or short round.

Tucker had tried a couple more times to “fall” early on, only to be promptly followed by one or both of his fellow competitors.

The good news was, they were at least all tied up for now, so he’d gotten more time without anyone asking questions. The bad news was, it was match point. Whoever took this next one, if they didn’t all tie, it would be time for another set.

Aaaaand Conner and Tim were still having fun, and insisted they were just warming up, but Tucker was sweating anyway. He didn’t even know spiders could sweat.

Ancients, had he actually fucked up using his powers for the first time in years when he was trying to show off for Red Robin and Superboy?

He was going to look like a fucking newb. An absolute amateur.

And that was assuming that no one had come looking for them and noticed the empty room and still going game on the TV. Would Batman think he’d kidnapped Red Robin?

Who was Tucker kidding, he totally would. Bruce was paranoid as hell, and while he mostly seemed to be aiming it at Danny, that was probably because he hadn’t realized Tucker was liminal. Did the GIW even know about liminals? There probably wasn’t much documentation for him to freak himself out about with.

Of course, in this case he wouldn’t be wrong. Tim would be trapped. It’d just be because Tucker was a dumbass, not a malicious force. At least Tim and Conner would almost definitely believe him.

Aaaand he’d never live it down. It was only a matter of time before they both noticed he wasn’t really trying to win anymore too. He’d kept up, but that was mostly by accident. He just had a lot of practice being inside the game levels.

A lot of them could kill all the players on their own, no PVP required.

He felt like an absolute caveman when the answer finally came to him, and it wasn’t even his own idea.

Because the last level had been one of those “kill all the players” levels, and all three of them had managed to be thrown into lava close enough that the computer didn’t count a winner.

Tim and Conner groaned loudly before bursting out laughing, because of course that was what happened at their dramatic finale, and then as they’d spawned in again Tim turned to Tucker.

“Hey, can you pause before we get into this one? I just wanna catch my breath a second.”

Which, for a nanosecond, felt like the absolute end of the world, because he didn’t have his controller buttons. Because he was a dumbass.

Luckily, it also snapped him back to his senses, and reminded him of the very first time he’d put Sam and Danny into a game with him. They’d made the same mistake, not leaving anyone their actual console controls, and Danny had begun trying to actually physically break them out before Tucker worked it out.

They were his fucking powers. He could always pause them, whatever they were doing; all he had to do was close his eyes and blank out for like, a minute.

He’d been collapsing in despair that first time, and Sam had kicked him over, sat on him, and demanded he take a nap, and then they were all back in their bodies like nothing had happened.

Keeping them inside the game was the part that was difficult; it was an act of focus, and sure it felt automatic at this point because he did this all the time now, but it was still something he had to actively do. Sure, technically, he wouldn’t be controlling the game from the inside, but they’d be back in their fucking bodies in the real world.

Where the actual console controls were. And then he could reload them in, and not forget his overrides this time, and everything would be fine.

Luckily, while his brain was techno-linked, he was processing in computer-time, not people-time. There was barely a pause after Tim asked the question and the answer came, tension leaving his body so quickly he almost sagged.

He even sounded a little giddily relieved to his own ears as he answered, laughing and already shutting his eyes.

“Well, kinda. Let me just pop us back out, we should probably check the time too. Hang on.”

Luckily, this stage did not seem to have any instant death traps. Tim and Conner fucked around with the crates and the platforms for a couple of seconds while Tucker reached inside, deliberately pulling his disconnect instead of waiting, and then they were all back on the couch, controllers in hand.

He’d never been so happy to see his own hands. Or the Start button, which he promptly hit to pause all three spiders before Tim and Conner’s could swing to their deaths. Even if that would give him the win.

Tim and Conner shifted beside him, getting used to their bodies again. Tucker took the lead there, setting his controller down and stretching his arms up behind his head, the phantom sensations of extra limbs already beginning to fade.

“It stops feeling weird pretty fast, but it helps if you move around,” he explained brightly, still high on that buzz of relief.

Conner made a noise of agreement, standing and stretching his arms over his head, which made his shirt ride up. Tucker had the good sense to turn away quickly, before he got hypnotized.

Not quickly enough that Tim didn’t notice, but Tim Drake-Wayne remained the very coolest person on planet Earth and didn’t say anything. He just grinned knowingly at Tucker and rolled his shoulders, stretching out his neck.

“Okay, that was really cool. Not even a little bit the same, but really cool.”

Tucker grinned back, sheepish but still just happy he didn’t get caught.

“Yeah, there’s always the skill barrier where you can’t do the button combos, but I still feel like it helps? Y’know, understanding how the characters move and stuff.”

“I’m just glad you picked up the TTK that fast,” Conner cut in with a laugh, now bending down to touch his toes, blessedly while facing them.

Tucker swelled with pride.

“I mean, it wasn’t all that complicated. You explained it really well,” he said totally calmly, totally cool, definitely not fawning over the actual demigod in the room.

He didn’t exactly get why Conner shot Tim an entirely triumphant grin or why Tim rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t gonna worry about that. Tonight, he was batting a thousand.

He’d be tired getting back to class tomorrow, and he couldn’t exactly tell his classmates he’d been hanging out with Tim Drake-Wayne and being carried home by actual Superboy, but this was still the best week of his life. And Tim had already been talking about getting him an internship.

His life really could not be finer.

**

Jason took the mess well. Probably because Danny had a) already been working on it and b) panicked like a startled duckling and explained at a mile a minute, getting the order of events completely wrong at least twice.

Having the garlic powder iced over definitely helped the cleanup too. Jason grabbed a garbage bag, Danny floated what was in the air in, and they both took damp cloths to hunt down any stray garlic powder hiding in crevices.

Danny rewashed the dishes, but Jason dried them with a fresh towel and showed him where everything was. All in all, it was a blissfully domestic moment after a genuinely fucked day.

He could feel an unasked question waiting on the back of Jason’s tongue while they cleaned up, the shape of anticipation and something that wasn’t exactly fear, or even anxiety, just a low grade avoidance. Danny didn’t push it.

That seemed like the right answer too, because when they’d finished and stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment, Jason sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, I know you’ve got school tomorrow. If you’ve gotta head out…” he trailed off, resigned-tired filling his aura.

Danny raised both hands to cut him off.

“Hey. I can fly across this city in like, fifteen minutes. It’s not even half eleven yet, so if you want some company I’ve got nowhere else to be. We can talk about whatever, play some more MarioKart, or I can just make you some cocoa and go if you need space?”

Jason didn’t physically sag with relief, but that was probably because he’d already been holding himself carefully to hide the tension. Didn’t matter, because everything else about him screamed it as he raised an eyebrow at Danny, glancing around his kitchen.

“I’m not leaving you alone in here again until you’re Alfred-certified,” he declared sarcastically, and Danny grinned back.

“Ah, so never again. Good to know. It’s probably for the best, I’m a lousy cook for anything I don’t have to wrestle to the ground.” Not that he was any better at cooking it after he’d won the fight; he was just pretty good at the fighting part.

Jason’s eyebrow twitched and then he chuckled, shaking his head and pointing out of the kitchen.

“Tell you what, I’ll make you some cocoa while you go turn the TV on. Remote’s on the end table.”

That sounded like an invitation to stay to Danny! So he hadn’t totally fucked by not booking it out of Jason’s haunt at top speed; good to know.

And maybe he did physically sag with relief a little, because expressing your emotions was cool actually and everyone should totally be doing it more. And it was more fun in ghost form; he actually sunk til his feet almost touched the ground.

Didn’t go all the way when he remembered he was still in his boots. Jason’s other apartments had been pretty well lived in although still generally tidy, but this one was almost pristine. Whether it was new or he was just more careful here, Danny could take a hint.

He gestured quickly at his body while Jason pulled a cartoon of milk from the giant, gleaming blue-black fridge that looked mostly empty.

“Sure, uh… mind if I change?”

Jason blinked, which was fair since Danny had been a ghost for the past couple hours, then nodded.

“Not at all. There’s also some sweatpants and stuff in the bedroom if you wanna get more comfortable, but I don’t have as much of Tim or Dick’s stuff here so you might be stuck in mine,” he added a little shyly, and Danny’s grin widened as he remembered his new favourite shirt.

“You have five minutes to hide any other great soup shirts before I take you up on that,” he teased and Jason grinned back.

“Nah, go for it. I’ll only be a little longer than that with the cocoa though, so don’t do too much snooping around.” It didn’t sound like an actual warning, but he’d also already turned back to what he was doing… which already looked way too complicated.

He had a saucepan for crying out loud. Like Danny couldn’t see the electric kettle and fancy coffee machine. Tempted to stick around to watch just for curiosity, Danny floated back to the front door to change back and drop off his shoes and coat instead.

And hesitated.

Jason had given him permission to go to the bedroom. Change out of his jeans and jacket. He didn’t actually need to; the jeans were pretty comfy, well worn in, but they did have some built up salt, slush, and yuck from walking and driving around Gotham’s streets around the ends.

It was possible the suggestion had been more for the sake of Jason’s couch than Danny’s comfort.

He could just go intangible and let the dirt fall through, but that’d leave a pile which while technically being more contained would still be more mess. And sometimes it was hard to tell what was dirt and what was pants, since they weren’t exactly “his” either way.

He could just do laundry when he got home.

Luckily the bedroom door was open, so Danny didn’t have to poke into any of the other doors from the hall. Just like at his other apartment, there was indeed a separate set of six drawers with Jason’s siblings name on each drawer.

Well, “Dickhead”, “Timbo”, “The Purple One”, “Cass”, “Demon Brat”, and “Best Sibling”. Snickering to himself, Danny considered taking a picture. Or asking Duke what he’d done to be “Best Sibling”.

Unlike the other apartment, each drawer was mostly empty though. Just a pair of sweatpants about the right size, a hoodie, and a shirt that Jason had definitely assigned rather than getting one of theirs. Although Danny didn’t doubt Dick would own a Nightwing hoodie in the least.

The My Little Pony shirt for Damian was… well, Danny didn’t know him well enough to say.

With the clothes that might actually fit located (and honestly Cass’s were probably actually his best bet), Danny snooped through a couple other drawers to see if Jason did have any other fun shirts to steal.

There was actually depressingly little; Jason had plenty of clothes here, just like the other apartments, but all of them were… respectable. Plain. Block colours, simple patterns, normal people clothing.

Danny was just about to give up when he popped open the bottom drawer and stared in awe.

Jason’s regular wardrobe (from Danny’s admittedly limited experience) was kinda basic; plain shirt, sexy jacket, plain pants. Extra sweaters given the weather, but he did also have a pretty good collection of graphic tees with various swearwords usually featured boldly.

Where what had to be the complete collection of every Wonder Woman shirt ever made fit in, Danny wasn’t going to try and guess, but he knew good taste when he saw it.

Unfortunately, if he stole one of those, Jason was probably gonna want it back. Most of them were clearly worn, and just as clearly carefully cleaned to keep them nice. Danny wasn’t good at keeping things nice.

Somewhat reluctantly, he shuffled back to the siblings’ dresser and stole Cass’s hot pink paw print sweats, Steph’s 1000% bootlegged Sex In The City misprint shirt with the purple sparkle dildos painted over the girls, and the Nightwing hoodie. Never let it be said he could put together an outfit.

Fingering the shirt, he made his way back out and to the open plan lounge, his own clothes tossed carefully onto his shoes by the door. Jason had told him to put the TV on… and the worst he could do was say no.

Pulling up the streaming services, Danny went looking for And Just Like That. Mostly for curiosity’s sake, to be honest. He could probably sneak a trailer before Jason got back, just as a sample.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Jason appeared just as Danny found the right service, two steaming mugs of incredible smelling cocoa topped with a mass of whipped cream in his hands and a large bowl of popcorn, skittles, and smarties in his other arm.

Danny couldn’t even complain about not getting to have nice things, because if that wasn’t the epitome of a fantasy walking into the room he didn’t know what was. Hitting pause quickly, he hopped up to take the bowl for purely altruistic reasons.

Definitely not for an early handful, no matter how Jason raised his eyebrows at him. The handful was Danny’s reward for being a good citizen.

“Hey, that smells fantastic! Your family is gonna ruin me for shitty cafe hot chocolate,” he teased through a mouthful of candy.

Jason rolled his eyes but smiled, switching both mugs to one hand to set a trio of coasters on the coffee table. Danny reluctantly relinquished the bowl to the third if only to grab his cocoa and take a sip as Jason sniffed.

“Hot chocolate is to cocoa what instant coffee is to fresh,” he said snootily, like those were words that meant anything. Danny just stared at him, whipped cream on his nose purely for comedic effect.

Until Jason leaned in and wiped it away with his thumb, and Danny’s brain shut down. Unfortunate, since Jason started talking.

“So, uh… you a Sex and the City fan?”

“Huh?” Danny kept staring, pretty sure words had meanings until Jason jerked his thumb in the direction of the TV (which was huge and gorgeous because of course it was. This was the rich son of a bitch apartment Danny would expect of… okay, not a Wayne, it was still way below that level of fancy, but at least someone making a good chunk of change).

Then he shook himself out of it, grinning.

“Oh! No, never seen any.”

Jason cocked his head, eyebrow raised again.

“Then why…”

Danny shrugged, settling himself comfortably back into the couch. He was going to sound like a crazy person anyway, he might as well be comfortable.

“I listen to The Worst Idea Of All Time on my way to classes. And when I’m welding. It’s a couple of guys from New Zealand who watched Sex and the City 2 every week for a year, and a bunch of other stuff. Like, uh… Grown Ups 2, We Are Your Friends, oh and the first Sex and the City movie.”

And, sure enough, Jason looked appropriately baffled.

“What, all at once?”

“Nah, different years. They never did the actual show, but they’re doing commentary on all of the episodes of And Just Like That now that they’re out since they did both movies, which were after the show. Why, did you watch the actual show?”

Jason nodded slowly, and Danny snickered.

“The show’s not canon for the Worst Idea boys. Brady the Rat King is though.” And yeah, he probably could be explaining this more like a sane and reasonable person, but that just made the podcast sound worse.

This time it was Jason who raised both hands, even relinquishing his cocoa to do it.

“There are too many questions, so I’m just gonna start with “why?”” He was already smiling though, so Danny was going to take that as a good sign.

He shrugged cheerfully.

“Schadenfreude is the leading theory from the boys, and to be fair it is fun watching them suffer through the worst movies they can find. They’re both professional comedians though so it is actually really funny, and they’re really positive. Every watch has to have a shining light, which is something you actually liked about the movie that week. I did that with one of my lecturers last semester, a real blowhard, and it helped. Mostly it’s just the aural equivalent of comfort food; nothing challenging, no thought required, just two good soft boys making up crazy stories about movies every week.”

Jason was actually listening, pursing his lips as he considered what Danny was saying. Privately, Danny suspected having actually watched Sex and the City might work against him… although he might have been dead when at least one of the movies came out.

Finally, Jason sighed.

“So you’ve just watched the movies, and none of the show?” He asked, in a tone which told Danny exactly what he thought of the movies. So he might like the podcast after all.

Danny grinned and grabbed another handful of popcorn.

“Nah. They actively discourage us from watching them, even when they do directors commentary. And Just Like That isn’t getting the full season treatment though, so I kinda wanted to take a look just to see the outfits.” A stroke of inspiration struck him, and Danny dropped some of the popcorn into his cocoa.

Getting it back out again was not as easy as he’d have liked, but he got two pieces that were heavenly and was content to let the third wallow under the whipped cream where it had retreated.

Jason totally was not laughing at him, because he was a gentleman. It was the brilliance of Danny’s answers that had him smiling like that, for sure. And when he was sure he had Danny’s attention again, he pointed at him.

“Okay, we’ll watch And Just Like That tonight. But you have to come over and watch the original series at some point too,” he added quickly.

Danny pouted but considered it. He didn’t even know how many seasons there had been. Time for a counter offer.

“Only if you try the podcast.” Which was a totally reasonable offer and absolutely no reason for Jason to make that face as he nodded.

“Fine. I’ll give it a shot on my way to work. Happy?”

“Deeeeee-lighted,” Danny cackled, holding out a hand to shake. Which Jason obligingly shook, then nodded to the couch.

“No spoilers, okay? Unless there’s good hats. I’m just going to run and change.”

He even came back bearing a fuzzy throw from the end of the bed, which he dropped on Danny’s head and imperilled his precious cocoa. It was mostly empty by then though, and then Jason even refilled it for him, so Danny graciously gave him a royal pardon.

Jason graciously told him to shove it up his ass and settled in, and Danny swiped the remote for his impertinence. Long day now finally behind them, it was looking to be a much better night.

**

Taking a quick glance at both his League communicator and both of his phones, Bruce dismissed about thirty messages from Harley. He might have liked to talk to her earlier, and probably would actually message her back to talk later.

It had only been for a matter of minutes, but even a second of believing that Jason had died again… no. He knew he hadn’t handled it well. If he actually slept tonight, he had no doubt it would be even worse than usual, and plagued by nightmares.

Fortunately for him, he had a new case to distract himself with… or rather, a new direction for his existing case.

Diana was right; she usually was, in matters of the heart. He had to trust Jason, and trust that Jason knew what he was doing with this business in the Infinite Realms.

A year ago, Jason likely wouldn’t even have involved Bruce in the conversation, if it happened at all; he’d have dropped the evidence on Dick or Duke, or just gone around trying to blow up a rogue government agency on his own. That he had brought this to Bruce showed a lot of progress in their relationship. It gave him a reason to hope.

He would have to try and reward the trust Jason had shown in him, rather than punishing it. A proper apology, just between them… if Jason would speak to him.

A few days to give Jason time to calm down would probably help. And, if he was truthful, for Bruce to put his concerns to bed.

He may have been… hasty in leaping to conclusions about Danny Fenton. It wasn’t like him to become so entrenched in an opinion without checking it from at least a dozen more angles; the Mansons and Vlad Masters could only know so much.

Diana had been right again; he had to get to know Danny, to put his fears to rest. He trusted…

Okay. When it came down to it, he didn’t exactly trust his children not to lie to him about the dangers of a potential friend. There’d been one too many secrets-turned-disasters. But he could trust them to fact check and rat each other out if they truly believed their siblings were making a serious mistake.

For the joy of an “I told you so”, if nothing else.

Cass’s first impressions in her debrief had been illuminating. A little more discussion with her and perhaps Steph, their views were often varied enough that between them a very comprehensive picture could be built.

Talking to Danny himself again… Bruce knew himself well enough to know that wasn’t a good idea yet. It would have to happen eventually; he suspected he also owed Danny an apology for his behaviour, although no one else had mentioned it. Which was perhaps another sign of how badly he’d failed Jason.

No, he had to level his opinions on Danny first, make sure he could keep a clear head. Returning to the cave, he made his way directly to the batcomputer and sank into its familiar embrace.

Tim likely hadn’t had time to make the updates that would allow them to read through Amity Park’s data directly, but Tucker Foley had provided them with a respectable amount of downloaded data. Bruce could begin his researches there, and make some travel arrangements as well.

If he couldn’t get into Amity Park digitally, physically would have to do. Likely as Brucie Wayne rather than Batman, although repairing the town’s relationship to the Justice League was a worthy goal while he was there. And while people wouldn’t be as open to giving him information about Danny face to face, he could pick up some native tech and make his own adjustments. That should let him get past their unique protections.

And a better look at these ghosts, and an understanding of what exactly the Justice League Dark were so concerned about.

Hands pausing on the keys for a moment, Bruce briefly considered messaging Constantine again, or Zatanna. He should at least inform them that he was planning to go to Amity Park in person.

After a moment’s consideration, he sent a brief message to Zatanna. As unprofessional as it might be, Bruce knew himself well enough to know he just wasn’t up to spending any more time with Constantine at the moment.

Zatanna could brief him on any necessary etiquette just as well, with far less dramatics. A little space between himself and Constantine could only help as well. Honestly, a few days away from Gotham and all of his current headaches could only be a good thing.

Harley might even be proud of him.

——————

So here we have it! Also, by the way, that nexus thing is actually canon in the DC multiverse, and it is so much fun

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny fenton dead and loving it #dfdali #dead on main ship #chapter 18 part 2 #so that just happened

[thatfuckinjester]

Cw: EDs and Self harm

Many quints in a pack... They can feel each other's pain.... Omega and Aether wondering why it feels like there's needles in their stomach (from Pantom not eating properly).... Wondering why they all the time have headaches... Wondering why they feel burning lines on their arms and legs... Their answers are only answered when they see the new quint and the terrible state he's in...

-🤭

okay putting it under a cut because, like the ask said TW sh and ed possibly also an attempt, please do not read it if it triggers you

so idk if you saw but i made a post about that if there's a few quints in a pack they can feel each other's pain, so i love this idea!!!!

like quints can feel their packmate's pain obviously but a few quints in a pack? they feel each other's pain on another level, if one of them gets hurt the others can feel it too.

so aether quit the band, but before he could announce it he and omega got asked to go help at another church so everyone thought that phantom was only summoned as a temporary replacement, but the ghouls weren't sure, because it takes energy to summon a ghoul.

they got their confirmation about this when a sibling told them that imperator said that phantom is just a temporary replacement, and they ran with it.

it didn't really matter to them that phantom never sat to eat with them, he's going to be sent back anyways.

it didn't matter if phantom looks sick, he's getting sent back anyways.

meanwhile aether talking to the pack on the phone, telling them how he and omega are feeling horrible, they constantly have headaches, it feels like their stomach is eating itself, and recently they started to feel burning lines all over their bodies, omega think that they have caught something, maybe it'll take longer for them to come back. and he also always asks about phantom, how is he, how is he adjusting, the pack always says that he's fine.

it didn't matter if they haven't seen phantom for days, maybe he got sent back and then he's not their responsibility. not that he was their responsibility at all, he's getting sent back, why would they care?

they didn't have any problem reminding phantom that he's just there temporary, he isn't a part of their pack, he doesn't matter.

none of them understand why aether cares so much to ask about his temporary replacement.

and when omega and aether come back because they did help, they did everything they were supposed to, even with the horrible pain, they just wanted to get back home, to get back to safety and get better there.

that's when the pain became unbearable.

the pack have held a dinner party for their return, but they couldn't even stay for the rest of it, the pain just kept getting worse and worse, aether could taste blood in his mouth, before the pain was calling for them.

and that's when omega realized what it was.

omega pulled aether with him, hurried steps as the calling of the pain lead them outside, and that's where they found phantom.

he was laying on wet grass, eyes closed, buggy clothes on, a bat stuffed animal hugged to his chest while blood from his wrist was sipping into it, his other hand to his side, bleeding as well.

this whole thing scared them, shocked them to their core, but what really terrified them was his eyes.

glassy milky eyes, looking without seeing at the stars, the stars reflecting perfectly on the smooth, empty surface of phantom's eyes.

aether was sure they got their too late.

#jester rumbling #lovely 🤭 anon #the loveliest 🤭 anon #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #phantom #phantom ghoul #phantom ghost #aether #aether ghoul #aether ghost #omega #omega ghoul #omega ghost

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Endgame

I stopped blogging this drama some time ago because nothing new seemed to be happening. Oh, there was tons of telenovela drama, but none of it was "moving the needle" to quote Meghan. Even the Lady C and Tom Bower books were not very interesting, at least to me. I think they were significant in that they shone a spotlight on the various lies and misinterpretations, which I think helped flip the narrative on these two idiots, but if you've been following the shenanigans closely, as I have, they had few surprises.

I do have posts on the Netflix documentary because those had real revelations. However, I think this The Hill article is the real game changer. The Eye of Sauron has turned itself upon them, so to speak.

Those are pretty strong words, and so are these:

"U.S. national security." Wowza.

What's interesting is that a few days ago, this was The Hill's viewpoint:

Way back in December 19th this was a "you" problem in the eyes of the Washington establishment (which is what The Hill represents), now suddenly it's an "us" problem. What changed?

Well, this IPSO poll came out in the UK, showing that the documentary did not affect royal popularity at all. The Brits are calling it inaccurate and the personal popularity numbers were not affected at all.

https://www.ipsos.com/en-uk/britons-more-likely-judge-harry-and-meghan-documentary-inaccurate-depiction-events-crown

YouGov also got positive results for the monarchy.

I haven't seen similar polls regarding the Commonwealth though, but I bet they were done and I bet the results weren't good. The documentary got strong international ratings and the Harkles are going to find out that success is a double-edged sword.

It's going to be interesting to see where this goes. So far, the results are encouraging. Hello, Colonel Kate!

Trooping isn't until June but that got announced in December, which is fascinating.

And Charles' coronation was budget friendly back in October, but it will now be "glorious" pomp and pageantry showcasing UK plc and, no doubt, the Commonwealth.

Harry effed around and now he is going to find out that attacking the family is fun gossip that important people don't care about but attacking an institution that is part of the US national security establishment is a different matter altogether. A lot of people are now going to reassess their tacit support of the Harkles.

It will take a while because no one will admit Harry's Invictus role was axed because of a Netflix drama or internet trolling during the Wales' Caribbean tour, but that will be the eventual result. It will take years and it will be camouflaged as a "reorganization" or "rethinking" of the organization (everything military is now in flux as the establishment analyzes the implications of the Ukraine war) but he's going to be out. Notice that Sunshine Sachs leapt out of the sinking ship way back in September. That was likely the canary in the coal mine.

https://www.hellomagazine.com/royalty/20220924150955/meghan-markle-parts-ways-sunshine-sachs-pr-firm/

I doubt anyone reads this blog anymore since so many fantastic people are covering this drama now, but I'm compulsive about completing tasks so I'll be covering the endgame (as Scobie would put it, although the monarchy will not be the one losing this game).

[pigeontheoneandonly]

exit criteria

ETA: Now with AO3 link! Link

For once, I was actually feeling writerly, so I did a little time loop fic tonight about the run to the beam at the end of ME3:

The mortar struck the tank, flipped it, and in one single motion smeared Kaidan and Garrus into paste.

Shock took Shepard first, and the bullet took her second.

* * *

This time, Shepard threw her arm out and kept Kaidan from running ahead.  So the bullet got him instead.

* * *

She had figured out far more complex problems than this, many times over.  Failing twice was annoying.  A blemish on her record, even if nobody else would ever know.  So Shepard took half a beat before charging down the London rubble once again, used it to draw her own heavy weapon, and simply blasted the tank out of the way.

Garrus spared a moment none of them had to toss her a confused glance.  Her answering smirk had just reached peak smugness when the airborne reaper unit, alerted by the explosion, sighted and fired, briefly illuminating each of their three outlines in its plasma beam before they atomized.

* * *

Her squad balked at running down the right side of the field when the center was clearly optimal.  But they’d followed her to hell, and there was no time to argue.

Kaidan didn’t say I told you so when the banshee lifted him by his hair to her fetid mouth.  He was too preoccupied with screaming, suddenly cut off.

* * *

Think, Shepard.  She stared across the battlefield.  Twenty seconds, then a minute, then five—an eternity in these conditions.  The profligate waste didn’t concern her.  Clearly, she’d have as many attempts as necessary to get this right.

(You hope, whispered a poisonous thought.  You assume.  You need.)

Beyond the beam that led to the Citadel, Harbinger crouched.

“I need to go further back,” she said aloud, abrupt, just before the reaper’s cherry red beam shot out through the dark with unerring precision.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Hackett told her, on the med evac shuttle more than a day after she left Garrus and Liara dead under the tank.  “The Crucible firing disabled most of the fleet, but stopped short of outright destroying it.  Cerberus put too much reaper technology into the Normandy’s redesign.  We found no survivors.”

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Shepard said, as Kaidan broke their goodbye kiss, eyes wide.  A hypodermic needle was small but still noticeable when it pricked the delicate skin of the neck.  “I need you to live.”

Her arms caught him as he folded up, gentle.  Forgive me. 

A bombed-out building had few good or secure hiding spots the size of an adult human male.  Someone found him and brought him back to the Normandy.  To the impromptu field hospital.  To the personal care of an inexperienced and self-trained civilian medic whose misdiagnosis led to organ failure.

After the fourth attempt, Shepard abandoned the approach in exasperation.

* * *

Her squad charged down the left side.  Killing a brute wasn’t unprecedented at this point in the war, but doing so with barely twenty feet of maneuvering room proved impossible.  She should know.  She tried ten times.

* * *

Shepard sat down at the top of hill, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring down the beam with real anger.

“Shouldn’t we charge?” Kaidan asked.

“You’d think so,” she grumbled.

* * *

The tank flipped.

The tank flipped.

The tank flipped.

The tank flipped—

* * *

Once, she went to the hill alone and screamed with every last ounce of frustration in her body.  “What do you want from me?!”

Harbinger did not deign to reply.  It did not even deign to slap her aside itself.  Instead, it left her to be overrun, eventually, by various husks.

* * *

It merited further consideration, however: What did Harbinger (or the universe, or fate, or or or) want from her? 

Her eyes narrowed over the London apocalypse.  The galaxy can burn.  There is no version of this mission where I let Kaidan die. 

* * *

I won’t, she said, as a marauder broke through his armor.

I won’t, she said, while Kaidan flew thirty feet into the air and hit the ground with terrible finality.

I won’t, she said, as the tank flipped over him.

* * *

Kaidan found her in starboard observation, Earth growing ever larger in the port.  Her hand pushed against the glass as if she could, by force, prevent it coming any closer.

She knew his footsteps.  She knew the way the air stirred around his shape, the faint rustle of his clothes and the even fainter whiff of soap.  Every line, tick, and habit.

Her shoulders hunched.

He asked her what was wrong, because he knew her, too, every mood and every flinch.

So Shepard did something she’d never done before, in any iteration: she told him.

It took a bit of time, and then they were both quiet for a long while.  Kaidan held her curled in his arms.  His breath in her hair.  Her fingers digging into his forearm. 

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, at last, sounding as tired as she felt.

Shepard knew Kaidan.  Her grip tightens another fraction.  “Don’t you dare say it.”

Quietly, inexorably, gently.  “You need to let me go.”

The only answer she could bear was to shake her head, her throat stopped up.

* * *

Shepard never made that mistake again.  But yet.

He kissed her in London, his hand lingering, cupped around her cheek.  You need to let me go.

His gloved hand scooped up hers, just for a few paces, a stolen moment on a quiet street between packs of roaming reaper forces on their way to the beam, an ounce of warmth amid terror and despair.  You need to let me go.

His breath woofed out, relief and new tension all at once, as they crested the hill and stared down at the frighteningly open terrain teeming with endless enemies, glowing with gunfire, the last stand, the last fight.  You need to let me go.

* * *

She sat beside the tank a long while.  Kaidan, his meat, was somewhere under it.  In point of fact, this was the longest she’d ever lasted, any time she’d paused during the run to the beam.  Nothing cared about her.  Not here in the shadow of a ruined vehicle, no gun drawn, no fight left in the lines of her body.  They all saw instinctively that she was no true threat.

There wasn’t a name for this sort of grief.  How could anyone grieve a person who was dead thirty or forty or a hundred times over?  He’d been dead the first time the mortar struck the tank and he was still dead now and there was absolutely nothing, nothing, to be done about it. 

After a time, other reapers landed, legions of them making mountains on the horizon with their long, raised thoraxes.  Systemically, they scoured London clean in a shower of particle beams and sonorous booms. 

Shepard fell asleep not long after dawn and died without knowing it.

* * *

Kaidan tore his gaze away from the beam when he felt the pressure of Shepard looking at him.  He cocked his head.  “What are you doing?”

She took him in.  Not long, not nearly long enough, but she took what she could get of him, always.  Almost too quiet to hear, she sighed out, “Letting go.”

His brow creased.  Then Garrus yelled, as the first of the enemy took notice of them, and they were flying down the field, Shepard chasing Kaidan chasing Garrus.

The mortar arced downward. 

The tank flipped up into the air.

Shepard ran.  The bullet whizzed past her shoulder, where she stood not a fraction of a second earlier. 

The airborne reaper, passing overhead, took note of the human, and fired a plasma beam.  The angle was not optimal.  Even perfect machines bow to physics.

The beam flashed by her at near light-speed, hot enough to scorch her cheek.

It met the tank in the midair. 

The tank glowed, and then exploded, knocking Kaidan and Garrus to the ground under a hot shrapnel rain. 

The stab in her chest never lost its edge, no matter how many dozens of times he died.  But her step didn’t falter.  Her arms pumped, her legs flying, moving so fast, in fact, that the tears leaking out of her eyes flowed back into her hair—

Until, as she flashed by the tank’s remains, something new:

Kaidan sat up. 

#mass effect #kaidan alenko #commander shepard #shenko #this is like...barely edited but it felt SO GOOD to be able to write something #i don't even care lol