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lvl10gojocoper · 2 days

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Motion Sickness: Chapter 1

Synopsis. Slowburn-ish, Heavy angst, pining because you're losers, inaccuracies and stuff, mature language. Note: lots of plot building in the first parts :)

Pairings. Gojo x Reader

a/n: My first JJK fic or work in general. I'm a slow reader of the manga but I've seen spoilers already. Safe to say I wanna avoid acknowledging Shibuya Arc from existing and onwards. Maybe a bit (or a lot) of inaccuracies but let me cope!! + idk how to tag on tumblr so yolo.

Chp.1 Chp.2

It's hard to breathe.

I only had one thought I could fully register at that moment. My lungs consume as much air as it could in the short moment I'm so graciously allowed.

I palm at the rough ground and watch as the asphalt's gray turns darker from his shadow. Tall and menacing. My heart beats faster when the sound of his footsteps gets louder, closer. I look up—I was right, he is close.

His face is unreadable , looking down on me. I stay looking up at him, even through the bandages covering his eyes, I know he sees me. He sees me very clearly. Neither of us choose to look away.

I grunt, forced to look down as the pressure of his foot crushes my hand under all his weight. I taste blood in my mouth. I don't know if its from any previous blows I took before or is if it's from biting my lip too hard.

Fingers slip under my chin, pulling my face up slowly to meet his gaze. "You yield now." He said with finality. He stared down at me, I assume darkly, but I hated the stupid blindfold he had on. I hated how he could read me completely while I constantly searched his face. I felt bare before him, powerless.

I roughly pull myself from his grip, "Fuck off." I hook his leg with the back of mine, forcing him to bend out of balance. Unfortunately, it allows him to knee me on the shoulder. I look up at him towering over me, for a second I feel like I found his eyes.

The second passes long enough for me to hook my arm on his calf and ruin his balance. He grunts as he falls on his back, flat and unguarded. I take the opportunity to lock him between my legs and push all my weight on his knees. I go for his face, my fist coming down to meet his cheek but he gets a hold of my wrist. I scream almost, frustration building in my chest.

He flips over almost too easily, my body now trapped between his own legs. My other fist aims at his face but he stops it with his own palm with almost no effort, squeezing then pushing both my restrained limbs to my chest. I hiss as the raw skin of my knuckles are even more crushed in his palm. He catches the way I bite my cheek to stop myself from making any noise, his grip softens. I take my chance to try and swing at him but he holds my wrists to the sides of my head.

His chest is heaving, breathing finally as labored and as heavy as my own. The bandages covering his eyes are loose like the platinum hair falling on his face. "Enough," He says.

He knew how much I hated when people told me what to do. I try my hardest to wriggle away, a pathetic attempt. He squeezes my wrists in almost a plea, still I fight it.

"You're a liar." I mutter quietly. His hands slip from my wrists, I slap and throw weak and clumsy punches at his chest. I keep punching, and he lets me. "You're such a sick fucking liar." I cursed, strained and broken.

When my hands slow down and eventually stop, he falls to the side, we both breathe. "I—" He finds the words, the lies to say, maybe. "I'm sorry."

The air is still, and the world is quiet. I stare angrily at the purple sky, almost blue. "One day..." I used to like looking at it. I waited till it turned bright blue and then search stars when they would appear, mapped out and scattered. I look to my side, searching again. I meet his gaze when he turns to me but I cannot see it. I cannot see him. My chest begins to feel heavy. That's when I realize I'll never be able to as long as he won't let me. "One day, I'm gonna kill you."

He only scowls, "You're impossible."

"...Don't you think so, Miss?"

I'm snapped back to reality when the train's inertia pushes me forward, forcing me to hold onto the handle in front of my seat. I blink myself out of it and turn, looking at the kind looking elderly man holding the newspaper. My gaze lowers down to read the headline written in bold, "6 dead, 4 missing near one of Tokyo's Red Light Districts."

I look back up at the man, he waits patiently for my answer. I blink again, fuck what am I doing. I curse at myself, "Shoot, I didn't get that. I seem to be disassociating or something," I laugh to myself, "I'm so sorry."

The man just smiles at me, "It's alright, dear. I seem to be bothering you at the wrong time."

I immediately feel bad and urge the man to continue, "No, Please. I insist, What was it about again?"

He clears his throat and flips to the page of the newspaper and shows me what had gathered his interest. "Well it's the headline. It's just, it doesn't make sense someone could do all of that then just disappear without a trace."

I nod my head as I listen to his theories, "I supposed it is a bit strange. But maybe it was more than one person?"

The man huffs, "Well maybe. They also say it could be motivated but it says here the bodies found were merely remains, scattered in a dark abandoned building. Who would leave these normal people's remains, who seem to not be connected whatsoever, if it were motivated? Seems fishy..."

He squints his eyes as if he goes deeper in thought. Just when I think he's finished, he continues. "And isn't it strange that no one had seen anything, in a place as lit up from day and night like that place in particular, surprisingly no one had seen those people go through all that. So it's just simply impossible to not catch anything, Don't you think, Miss? Or maybe that's just me..." He taps his chin in even deeper thought.

A small smile makes its way to my lips, even if it definitely wasn't the type of subject that's supposed to bring this kind of reaction, I couldn't help it. "Wow, you seem very invested."

The old man just chuckled at himself and nodded, "Apologies, It's just that, ever since I was a boy, some of these stories around Japan—Tokyo in particular—would appear in and out of the newspapers but then after a period of time, nothing would come out of it. True crime, things as such. It always fascinated me."

I agree, entertaining him with my own thoughts. Afterwards, I asked him with the same enthusiasm as he spoke with me, "Is that why you're on a train to Tokyo? To explore the stories of the unknown?"

He shook his head, folding the newspaper in half. "Oh, no. I'm here to visit my granddaughter in Asakusa. However, we may be both considered as pioneers of true crime and such. Now that I've talked to you, it'll be easier to talk to her!" He says proudly. There's a pause in the air until he himself asks, "And you, why are you here? Visiting as well? Maybe you're also here to indulge yourself in the stories Tokyo has to offer?"

For a while I think about it, and the train slows down, "Something in between, I suppose."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #basic bitch posting

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jojosquires · 3 days

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So, the next chapter of "Dizzy Edges" is actually not the doozy chapter I thought it would be. I'm doing a small (I'm limiting myself to 3,500 words) chapter following Tim in the (slightly) distant aftermath of Ch. 26. He's going on a field trip! Then, it'll be time for the big chapter that may destroy my brain (parallel Dick and Tim POVs as they have one-on-one conversations with two guest characters--can you guess who?)

BUT... I found this note in my phone and I think it's a pretty good breakdown of Helena, Dick, and their relationship to Tim in this story (makes sense because I wrote both the note-which I forgot existed-and the story). Helena isn't a terrible caretaker... She's just not equipped to be what *Tim* needs all the time (~sometimes~ her ability to just let things go actually *is* a benefit to Tim...) He's pretty good at balancing himself out of given time and a little space to think things through. Even in RR he's fully aware he sounds crazy and he might be wrong... He's got some level of self-awareness even if he ignores it.

So, here's the note and I hope it helps make sense of a few things that have happened:

Helena is fighting for Tim but in the way she *thinks* he needs her to: taking down crime, with prejudice, in Gotham. The reason she got to know him in the first place is because the usual systems *failed* this kid so she has to work outside of them to *fix* things on his behalf. It's an intentional parallel that she *leaves* at night to fight the problems that plagued him and he *left* at night to escape those problems. He had to leave to find comfort, by leaving she (accidentally) isolates him *from* comfort and stability so he finds himself wandering the city again looking for things to do to take his mind off... Just everything. Tim appreciates her dedication and is aligned in her goal to protect the innocent (even if he disagrees on her methods). But she isn't fighting *for* him the way he actually needs her to (just by being there to listen and being open/honest with him).

Dick is fighting *for* Tim... He wants to protect Tim and that's his number one goal when he thinks of Tim. Long-term goal may be to fix/break the system, but short-term he's concerned with Tim's well-being (physical and mental). He wants him to keep existing yes, but he also just *needs* Tim around. His support and his jokes and even that incessant little head tilt. He listens to Tim and remembers what he says and values his steadiness and adaptability. He keeps showing up when Tim is out looking for a distraction, for comfort. If Tim asked Dick to stop doing something on his behalf, he would because he's fighting for Tim in this scenario and he actually listens to what Tim says he needs (even if Tim is wrong about that).

Helena loves Tim like a brother (genuinely), but that means she thinks she knows best what he needs and doesn't ask Tim what that might be. Dick *is* Tim's brother and he trusts him to make the right call when it matters. He'll catch him if he falls. That's the difference. Helena would kill for him, Dick would *spare* someone because Tim asked him to. And Tim would ask him to stop to save *Dick* from having to grapple with the guilt and the consequences of a choice like that. They're each other's life raft and lighthouse. Saving each other and guiding each other in the storm. Each is the other's biggest supporter and, honestly, one of their most trusted advisors.

Sorry if this isn't interesting. But if you stumbled across this by accident maybe give the first few chapters of this weird and overly long story a go.

Either way, I hope you have a great day (or night).

#ao3 batfam fanfic #batfam #batfamily #tim drake #dick grayson #helena bertinelli #I have thoughts and they come out a lot and I think I miss literary analysis #Some day I'll write a completely unrelated essay about Usopp Zoro and water 7/enneis lobby in one piece because... there's something there

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silhouetteonpaper · 20 hours

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Point Shoes Make Great Weapons

Summary: When Y/N is tasked with dancing her way to an assigned target, will her ballet skills be enough to get her through the auditions that lead her to the enemy?

WC: 3822

Warnings: Fighting, mentions of guns

A/N: This is my first one shot, yay! I tried to keep the ballet terminology simple so anyone can read this, and there’s a few term descriptions below. Also, dance auditions are done in so many ways these days, so I wrote one in a way that would make sense to the story. Some things might not be 100% accurate.

Terms:

pointe shoe box - the part of the shoe that holds the front of the foot, usually made with dense paper, cardboard, or other stiff material so you can stand on it

révérence - a bow/curtsy

1st, 2nd, & 3rd position - foundational ballet positions that are used often

“You’re kidding.” Y/N states, looking up at the presentation Tony is giving the entire team about a new mission. The screen shows their target, a professional ballet dancer named Ivan Volkov, who also happens to be a leading crime boss with ulterior motives. The plan described someone needing to get close enough to take him out so he could be captured, the only way to do so being an Avenger attending the same ballet auditions and getting him alone. All eyes fell on Y/N.

“You’re the youngest here, and the best at dancing. I’ve seen you practice.” Tony reasons, getting a look of disbelief in return from the girl. It would be less suspicious for a young adult to audition, sure, but Y/N wasn’t eager to dance in such a strict setting.

“I practice for fun, it��s different when you have to be perfect.” Y/N explains. “Besides, Natasha also knows ballet, why don’t you have her do it?” She tries to bargain. Natasha scoffs.

“My dancing days ended the second I left the Red Room. Sorry, but this ones all you.” Nat shrugged, leaning back in her chair. Y/N exhaled sharply, searching the room for anyone else who could possibly do this mission. Not any of the boys, for obvious reasons. Wanda was already shaking her head by the time Y/N looked at her, and then there was Yelena.

“How about you, Yelena? You learned ballet in the Red Room too, right?” Y/N pleaded, hoping the blonde could take the lead on this mission. Yelena only laughed, shaking her head as well.

“Try to put me in a tutu and I’ll break every bone in your body.” She remarked, leaving Y/N to groan as she slouched in her chair. Tony clapped, happy to see that Y/N was left with no option but to accept.

“Great! Y/N it is. I wouldn’t put you on this mission if I didn’t think you could handle it.” He consoled her. Soon, the meeting was adjourned and Y/N’s training for the mission would begin. She found herself alone in the compound’s dance studio Tony set up for her, wearing her usual dance attire: a black leotard over light pink tights with black shorts on top. She dropped her newly broken-in pointe shoes on a bench next to her water bottle, waiting for the person who was supposed to help train her.

To the girl’s surprise, the studio doors opened to reveal Natasha walking in with a cold look. Y/N smirked, quickly realizing the redhead would be the one to train her in all things ballet. “Don’t even start with me, I’m doing this for you, okay?” Nat snapped, Y/N nodding as she stifled her laugh.

The girl took a moment to put on her pointe shoes, eventually twisting the sewn on elastic bands disguised as ribbons to secure them. Natasha raised an eyebrow as Y/N stood, standing on her pointe shoes to test out the sound. “First thing we’ll cover is proper ballet attire. Starting with those pointe shoes.” She lectured.

Y/N looked down at them, unsure what she did wrong. “I just broke these in and sewed them myself. What’s wrong with them?” She tapped out on her box a few more times to double check that they were solid. Now reassured, Y/N gave Nat a puzzled expression.

“The ribbons, you need to use real ribbons at a professional ballet audition.” Natasha told her like it was common sense. Y/N sighed, walking to the barre up against the mirror. “And you know once you get to auditions, you can’t wear shorts, right?” The redhead asked, taking a few steps closer to the girl ignoring her.

“I’m well aware, thank you. I’m trying not to think about that right now. Let me warm up, and then we can start.” Y/N voiced, beginning to stretch using the bar. Natasha crossed her arms with a laugh, eyeing the girl’s movements.

“If I’m training you, then we’re starting from ground zero. Keep that posture at the bar, and you’ll be cut from auditions immediately.” Nat jabbed, watching Y/N’s judgmental look as she stood back up from a plié. “You can do better than that. Turn out more. Delicate, Y/N, c’mon.” She called out as the girl kept her barre routine going. She repeated each move until Natasha was satisfied with her perfection, Y/N sweating by the end of her warm up.

“Great, now onto the audition choreography. You watched the video Tony sent you, right?” Nat asked Y/N, who was gulping water before moving back out to the open floor. She nodded, having rewatched the same video over and over to get the ballet choreography down. Although the girl was comfortable with ballet in general, she’d never auditioned for a professional company before. Y/N knew they’d judge every move she made, and the smallest mistake could mean a failed mission. She’d have to blend in as a professional ballerina.

Y/N made her way to the corner of the floor, preparing her opening move by getting into 3rd position. “Alright, let’s see what you can do.” Nat spoke as she hit play on the music connected to the room’s speakers.

As the orchestral melody began to flow, Y/N started to glide across the floor. Her focused expression informed anyone nearby of her extreme care to each move, all of her dancing laced with precision and perfection.

Her pointe shoes struck the floor with each advance, the sound echoing around the tall-ceilinged room. But no sound could get in the way of the music that fled the girl’s mind. Each note was like permission, allowing her to move onto the next step and give her dancing life.

As Y/N made her way to the center of the space for the end of the sequence, she dropped into a révérence, bowing as the music ended. Silence filled the room as the girl stood still, waiting to see how Natasha would react to her performance.

Y/N felt like she did nearly perfect on the choreography, but sometimes near perfect isn’t enough when lives are at stake. The unimpressed look on the redheads face gave the girl more than enough information. She’d have to run this number again and again until it was flawless.

“You look like you don’t even enjoy what you’re doing when you dance.” Natasha tells Y/N, stepping closer. Y/N chuckles, putting her hands on her hips as she catches her breath.

“Yeah, cause I don’t.” The girl remarks. Natasha sighs, moving to the side as Y/N goes to grab her water.

“The auditioners are looking for people who are passionate about ballet. People who appreciate the perfection, as well as the beauty in every move. If you look like you’re caught up in one or the other, they’ll know.” Nat explains while Y/N chugs from her water bottle.

“Alright, so it’s about finding the perfect balance.” The girl concludes. Nat smiles for the first time in the past hour.

“Exactly. And the best way to find that is by practicing. Let’s do it again.” She directs, gesturing back over to the open floor. Y/N sighs, dragging her feet as she steps back onto her starting mark, the familiar melody playing as she attempts to find her own flow once more.

“I put a gun in your bag, just in case.” Tony says as he drives the three of them into the city. Nat and Y/N sit in the back, making sure everything is in order for the audition Y/N will attend momentarily. Tony received intel that Ivan would be at one in the center of New York, making it a perfect opportunity for the young Avenger.

“Honestly, these pointe shoes could make a great weapon.” Y/N jokes, considering how strong the hard box of the shoe could be, especially if used in combat. The young girl wears a black leotard, pink tights, a black ballet skirt, and fuzzy boots in the stead of pointe shoes currently sitting in her bag. Natasha carefully pinned up Y/N’s hair in an appropriate ballet bun earlier at the compound, making sure the girl had everything she’d need for a full day of dancing… and also possibly fighting.

“Alright, kid. Are you sure you’re ready?” Tony asked as he parked the car. Natasha smirks.

“Oh, she’s ready. I didn’t make her repeat the routine fifty times for no reason.” She responds. Y/N laughs, nodding her head in agreement. She felt ready, not only from the extensive training Natasha provided, but also from the solid plan Tony concocted.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N prepares to exit the car as the three say their ‘see you laters’. Natasha even patted Y/N on the shoulder, instilling just a little bit more confidence in the young girl. The cold air of the city brings a chill to Y/N’s bare arms as she steps outside of the car and into the tall doors of The New York Ballet building.

A classy interior greets the girl as she quickly follows the sign reading ‘auditions this way’. She soon approaches the crowd of dancers in a hallway, some looking worried, others looking confident, but all of them girls. There was no Ivan in sight. Worry crept up her throat, forcing Y/N to swallow as everyone began to stretch and put on their pointe shoes.

She placed her bag down, being discreet as she pulled out a small ear-bud like device from one of its pockets. She placed it in her ear, immediately connecting to the team through the communication device.

“I’ve got a problem. There’s only girls here. I don’t see Ivan.” Y/N spoke quietly to the comms device, scanning the hallway once more for any sign of her target.

“That’s a bummer. Let me look into it, hold tight.” Tony responded, leaving Y/N to awkwardly put on her pointe shoes as she waited. Nat had forced her to sew on real ribbons, taking Y/N an extra second to tie them perfectly as she’d been taught.

Luckily, she blended in well out here, everyone dressed similarly and shrouded with the same worry. Although, Y/N wished she could say she was worried about the same thing as the rest of the girls.

An auditioner stepped into the hallway, beginning to brief everyone on what’s to come. “Hello, everyone. Shortly, we’ll start calling in small groups, where you’ll perform the choreography we sent for you to learn prior. Afterwards, I will call out those we are interested in pursuing to stay, where you will learn a second combination with one of the male partners auditioning.” An exhale of relief washes over Y/N, now understanding her shot at finding Ivan wasn’t lost yet.

“I found where he is, I just have to make it through the first round of auditions. Wish me luck.” Y/N tells the team as the auditioner starts calling the first group of girls.

“Good luck, kid.” Tony responds as the girl takes out the device from her ear, safely storing it in her bag while she prepares to enter the audition studio. Although discreet for usual missions, the communication device would be obvious in a ballet studio, especially when a panel of people are judging every single thing about a dancer.

Eventually, Y/N’s name was called, or rather an alias used for the mission. “Phoebe Trent.” The auditioner lists, the girl making her way inside the studio as she hears the fake name Tony gave her. The handful of ballerinas stand beside each other, a smaller group of five girls now formed as the auditioners sit at a table to the front of the room.

“Welcome, dancers. Today’s audition is solely about finding those who strive to be the best version of themselves on and off stage. We want people who are eager to push themselves to become better dancers. People who are graceful on the outside, but show it from the inside as well.” One of the auditioners expresses.

Y/N holds back the urge to roll her eyes, this emotional monologue nearly causing her to fail her mission out of boredom. Although she was able to master the art of dancing with emotion, she couldn’t find a true passion for it like all the other professionals here did.

“And with that, let’s begin.” Y/N inhales deeply, lining up to the side as the first girl is called to dance. They move down the line, Y/N being second to last. She watches as each girl moves, the same music that replayed at the compound filling the room again and again. Every auditioning ballerina brings something unique to the table, making Y/N’s stomach flip with nerves as her confidence depletes. The girl knew she’d have to look the part, but she was unaware she’d actually have to dance the part. Having to get through one round of auditions without being cut made things a lot more difficult.

The other ballerinas all look like they truly enjoy their art form, flying across the floor as they become one with the music. Y/N can barely take her eyes off of them, similarly to the auditioners. The next person in line was Y/N, who was making an attempt at finding a way to be as passionate as these other girls were.

Scanning her mind for ideas, Y/N thought of the things she was passionate about. Combat, fighting, avenging. Violent, jeez, Y/N thought. At that moment, she realized combat was quite similar to choreography. Every step had to be well calculated, yet you were doing it for one reason: saving lives. There was a purpose behind each step, each movement, just like with dance.

Y/N concluded that she could apply this to her ballet routine, each move adjacent to that of a fight—just more graceful—her completing the routine saving lives. Which was true, if she executed this mission then many lives would be saved from the killing hands of Ivan.

“Ms. Trent, you may proceed.” The auditioner spoke, allowing the girl permission to walk to her mark. She set herself into her opening position, taking a deep breath. Straight away, the familiar symphony filled the studio, Y/N letting her pointe shoes take her swiftly across the floor. She wasn’t calculating each perfect step in her head anymore, Y/N was letting her body ebb and flow to the melody. The girl didn’t even glance at the auditioners, her loving expression speaking for itself as she turned and stepped across the floor.

Just like when she was triumphant in a battle, flipping across the city, she let the familiar feeling of turning across the floor fill her with that same confidence. Each pirouette like a flowing fight sequence, every arabesque like a high kick to an enemy, yet all done with grace instead of force.

It felt like only a moment had passed when the music ended, Y/N smiling center studio as she bowed. The auditioners matched her grin, soon moving onto the next person while the girl caught her breath and joined the line once more.

Although Y/N had no clue if she’d make it in or not, she was proud of the performance she gave. Regardless of today’s outcome, she at least had that. After everyone completed their routine, the girls were all left to wait in the hall until everyone in the crowd had an opportunity to dance. After another long bout of waiting, an auditioner entered the hallway with the clipboard.

“Alright girls, I have the names of everyone who will continue today. If you are not called, please escort yourself out. If your name is called, we would like you to stay for the next part of the audition.” Every girl in the hallway tensed, the pressure rising as a series of names was listed off. Y/N held her breath unknowingly, hoping that she made it through to continue her mission.

“Abigail Greg, Phoebe Trent, Olivia Knight…” The auditioner called out. Y/N exhaled, relief washing over her as she was now one step closer to completing the mission. For her, the hardest part was over. At least she hoped so. All she had to do was find a way to partner up with Ivan during the next section of auditions.

After a quick water break, the accepted girls joined a larger studio with the accepted boys. They stood in unorganized lines as a ballet instructor guided the crowd in learning a new ballet combination. It wasn’t long, but it definitely looked complicated, especially for Y/N who could only practice so much at the compound without knowing about this second round.

Luckily, she didn’t have to be amazing at it, the goal wasn’t to get through this next audition. She just had to seem confident enough to get Ivan to pair up with her. Now scanning the people around her, Y/N tried to locate the familiar face of her target. Finally, her eyes caught a glimpse of the man she was after in the very back, stepping along with the combination as the instructor taught it.

Y/N was in the middle of the room, trying to figure out a way to move farther back to him. It wasn’t easy, seeing as everyone tried to take up as little space as possible, careful to not hit other dancers. With each little stride, though, the girl progressed farther back, slowly ending up only a few people away from Ivan as they all ran through the choreography one last time.

“Alright, please partner up with one another and we’ll run it once more here. You’ll have a chance to practice it on your own in the other studios afterwards.” The instructor explained, everyone in the room awkwardly breaking their position to find a dance partner.

Perfect. Y/n thought, knowing she could get him alone in a studio if he accepted her as a partner. She didn’t hesitate, her eyes fixating on Ivan as he stood scanning the room. “Hello, I’m Phoebe. Want to partner up?” She asked him sweetly. He smiled warmly, nodding and prepping to run the combination together.

Soon, everyone in the group was all partnered and ready, following the instructors lead as they ran the dance together. Y/N began with the step forward, letting her arms fly upward as her leg lifted behind her. She feels Ivan beside her, soon placing his hands on her hips as she lowers her leg and prepares her turn sequence. Using her opposite foot to kick off, Y/N spins as Ivan uses his hands to keep her steady. 1, 2, 3, pirouettes later and he removes his hold as she lands, the two continuing on to the steady rhythm of the music.

“Great job everyone, while we set up here, go grab some water and practice on your own. We’ll grab the first group momentarily.” The instructor dismissed, everyone heading back out into the hall.

“I’m going to grab a drink of water, then we can run it again.” Y/N let Ivan know, getting another nod in response as she went to find her bag. The girl made sure Ivan was out of sight before opening it, taking a chug of water and slipping the small comms device into her ear.

“Welcome back, Y/N.” Tony’s voice sounds, the communication device in the girls ear connecting.

“I got through the first round, I’m about to have a chance with Ivan. Stay ready.” Y/N told him, zipping up her bag.

“We’re always ready,” Natasha remarked, joining over the comms. Y/N smiled and shook her head, soon putting her sickly sweet face back on as she approached Ivan. Y/N opted to keep the device in her ear as she was no longer in the presence of any auditioners. The two made their way into an empty studio, both standing in the center of the room and preparing to repeat the same dance, or at least Y/N was.

She waited until he was ready, soon going through the same motions. Step forward, arms delicately moving upwards. Leg rising, watch your posture, foot turned out. Ivan ready behind her, hands falling on her hips as her leg meets the floor. The girl begins her pirouettes, feeling Ivan’s hands help her complete each rotation. 1, 2, 3… 4, 5. He wasn’t stopping.

She attempted to place her foot back down, but the speed of his turning made it difficult. Y/N’s stomach twisted, he knew who she was. More than ten spins later, he pushed her to the floor, leaving the girl dizzy as she was unable to keep up. Y/N quickly realized she didn’t grab the gun, and she couldn’t conceal any weapon under her ballet attire, so she had to rely on combat now.

“You made a mistake coming here,” Ivan finally spoke, his Russian accent now revealing itself. Y/N stood, steading her body as the lasting dizziness finally wore off. “And what, the Avengers sent a kid after me? What’s a dainty little ballerina going to do?”

“You made a mistake underestimating me.” Y/N asserted. Without hesitation, she threw the first punch. Ivan immediately reacted, the two of them moving back and forth trying to overpower each other.

She caught him by surprise, hooking her leg around his to bring him to the floor. But he quickly recovered, rolling to his feet and attempting to lock his arm around Y/N’s neck. She twisted his arm the other way just in time, avoiding the move.

They took turns gaining control of the fight, no clear winner could be predicted. And to the girl’s disadvantage, she kept sliding around in her pointe shoes, the awkward shape difficult to walk in. That’s when the idea came to her: I can use my pointe shoes, Y/N realized.

She ripped herself from Ivan’s hold, the two of them out of breath as they stood mere feet away. Ivan gave her a menacing look, almost giving away his idea at an advance. Before he could throw another punch, Y/N kicked him right in the head, her pointe shoe creating a loud crack as it made contact with his skull.

Ivan’s body hit the ground with a thud, finally unconscious. Y/N started to catch her breath, resting her hands on her hips as she talked to the team over comms. “Ivan’s down. Studio 3, he’s all yours.” Y/N spoke, glancing at the limp body of her target. She stepped over him to head towards the exit, noticing the annoying feeling of her pointe shoes now that she was walking instead of dancing.

Pulling them off, she laughed to herself. “It turns out pointe shoes do make great weapons.”

#marvel #marvel one shot #marvel fanfic #mcu #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #tony stark #the avengers

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anawrites3 · 1 year

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I'm thinking about blind Dick today, about how he'd lost his sight during one of the missions and there was nothing anyone could do to help him. He was so mad about this at first, fucking furious. Not only he's not able to protect the city anymore, he needs help doing the most simple everyday things now.

Alfred helped him put his clothes on right; Tim helped him out with eating because he fucking needed help with that too; Jason read to him because listening to TV just made him want to throw the damn thing out of the window; Damian was a warm presence, always at his side that held his hand and lead him through the Manor so he won't walk into things, and Bruce... Bruce was there somewhere.

Dick was trained for it, he screamed to himself, to be able to fight without his senses but this... this was so much different. He couldn't listen for his opponent's breath, he couldn't focus on the sound of their steps - none of that was useful, he was still putting his shirts backwards, he was missing the food on his plate, he was fucking useless and no amount of Bruce's training from before could change that.

More than once, Dick's siblings had to endure his outbursts, his screaming, crying and throwing things. It was a hard time for all of them. Dick just felt so helpless all the time, useless and that made him furious. So many things he won't be able to do anymore, he won't perform on a trapeze ever again...

It took a few months, of living in the Manor with his family helping him every day, of having a new life without being Nightwing, when Dick just accepted his fate. Because, let's be honest, there was nothing he could do. Being angry and yelling wouldn't help any of them and only made things worse so he slowly started to accept the fact that he was blind now.

He learned to live without his eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Slade opened the window and slipped inside the apartment without making a sound. The place changed a bit from the last time he was there but not enough to make it a problem for him, even with the bedroom enveloped entirely in darkness.

Dick was sitting on the couch in living room, in front of the turned off TV and didn't even look in Slade's direction when he walked past the door. He was looking down instead, at the knitting needles he was holding, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was kind of cute, honestly. Did Grayson hope to fight him with one of those things, in a way of greeting?

"Long time no see, little bird." Slade purred out, taking a few steps closer. "Did you miss me?"

Dick's head shot up abruptly, just like Slade knew he would, but instead of looking at him, those blue eyes just flicked in his general direction.

Slade frowned. It wasn't that dark in there.

"Slade... You're back." Dick breathed out. He wasn't as quite excited about it as Slade expected him to be.

"I am. Aren't you happy to see me, little bird?"

Something about his words made Dick's hands clench on the needles just slightly. Dick barely moved his hands but it was still enough for Slade to notice.

"Now is not a good time." Dick said instead of answering his question.

"Oh? We haven't seen each other for almost a year and that is how you greet me?" Slade shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Where are your manners, boy?"

They weren't exactly dating but Slade expected Dick to be a little bit more optimistic about his return. They didn't put any label on what they were doing and Slade was comfortable with that - they simply fucked and annoyed each other on every possible occasion, with a lot of flirting and too-friendly touches that Dick loved to initiate. It was weird to see Dick just sit there instead of jumping him right there right now.

Slade knew that this contract would last a few months, knew that it could get even longer were there any complications - and he told Dick exactly so when he was leaving. "Good" he said then, straddling Slade's naked body with a grin, "we'll finally get some peace in the city". He didn't seem the slightest bit upset about it, maybe except the whining about the fact that he'll miss the sex.

Slade didn't usually take on contracts that long but it was well-paid and on the other side of the globe, and he almost considered it a vacation. They didn't contact each other during that time but it was hardly the first time something like that happened. It was the first time, however, when Dick wasn't happy to see him after he came back from the job.

"Maybe things changed during this year." Dick forced out and Slade's grin slipped completely off his lips.

"Yeah? And what changed exactly?"

"Maybe you're not welcome here anymore."

Slade barked a surprised laugh at that, "Kid, when was I ever welcome? Isn't that what made it so exciting, what made you run back to me again and again? You fucking a mercenary right under your daddy's nose?"

Dick swallowed with an effort and Slade focused on the way his Adam's apple bobbed.

"That's not it." Dick insisted. He looked almost desperate to convince Slade of that and Slade took a few steps closer to him, his boots soundless on the cheap floor.

"Then what is it, Dick?" he murmured softly. "Tell me. If you're worried about Bats being around, he's not, I checked."

"That's -" Dick started before shaking his head. "No. I don't care about Bruce. You should go."

"Maybe I should. But I don't think I will."

Dick still wasn't looking directly at him. In fact, now that Slade walked over to the couch, Dick's eyes were pointed more at his chest than at his face, as if he didn't even notice that Slade got closer.

"Something is wrong. Something happened when I was gone and you're trying to get rid of me instead of telling me what it was."

"Everything is- I mean, nothing is wrong." Dick stuttered, putting the half-made sweater away. "But it doesn't matter anyway. I want you out of my home, Slade."

Slade crossed the rest of the distance in two steps and reached out to gently cup Dick's cheek in his hand. But Dick didn't push his hand away or nuzzle the palm like he would usually do. No, Dick flinched violently, as if he didn't even see the touch coming.

"What the fuck is happening?" Slade growled. "Tell me, Grayson, before I get really mad."

"No. No, get out." Dick's voice trembled. "Get out, get out, get-"

Slade clenched his fingers on Dick's chin and forced his head higher. The kid was trying to fight him, digging his nails into Slade's wrist, kicking at him and doing his best to pull away but Slade was stronger and didn't let him move.

That's when Slade saw it. Saw the way Dick's eyes weren't focusing on anything in particular, the way their blue color was dull and empty.

"No... Dick-" he breathed out, feeling as if someone stole all the air from his lungs.

"Shut up!" Dick yelled and punched at Slade's chest. "Shut up, get out of here!"

"You're blind." Slade said, as if saying it outloud would make him understand it. As if that would make it easier to accept the truth, that Dick Grayson was blind now, that he got injured while Slade was away on a job. "You're-"

"I know that, you fucking son of a bitch!" Dick roared. "Believe me, you don't need to fucking tell me!"

"What happened?" Slade demanded but Dick just pushed at his chest again.

"I'm not telling you shit-!"

"You are fucking blind, Grayson, and you didn't even think about calling me!" He screamed. No, they weren't dating but they were close enough that it's the least Slade would expect from him in this kind of situation. He ignored the weird feeling inside his chest. "What, did you think I wouldn't ever find out?!"

Dick started to scream and curse in Romani and Slade let him, forcing himself to calm down a bit. There was no use in screaming - usually their argument would turn into a physical fight but Dick couldn't see. Slade couldn't even take him to the rooftop without the fear of Dick falling out of the edge during one of his flashy moves.

It took some time but finally Dick calmed down enough to stop yelling. His breath was fast and heavy, as if he ran for hours and at least he stopped trying to push Slade away. His arms fell down suddenly, as if all his strength abandoned him at once.

Slade waited a few more seconds before asking again, "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter." Dick spat out, shaking his head. "Nothing you can change now."

"Doesn't matter." Slade echoed. "Tell me. Tell me what happened, who did this to you. Who do I need to kill?"

Dick laughed but it turned into a sob pretty quickly. Slade wrapped his arms around Dick and pressed him close to his chest, just letting his little bird cry for a moment.

"Fuck you." He said at last, voice hoarse. "I was doing so well about it too."

"I'm sorry." Slade murmured. The words held a lot of weight and they let the silence envelop them for a few more minutes.

"I don't even know what are you doing here." Dick whispered. "I'm just another fuck for you, why do you care?"

"You're a lot more than just that. You're not stupid, little bird, I know you know that."

Slade wasn't able to count how many times they tried to kill each other. Dick had a bunch of scars created by Slade's blade, and if it weren't for his healing factor he would have a lot of marks left by Dick's weapons as well. If nothing else, that alone made their relationship so much deeper than just occasional fucking.

"Not a bird anymore." Dick curled his fingers into the material of Slade's shirt. "I can't fly now. Not with not being able to see."

"You're my little bird nonetheless." Slade argued, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Stupid..."

"Mm. Tell me."

"...I don't want to talk about it." Dick's confession was so quiet Slade barely heard it, even with his enhanced senses. "Not now at least. I- I don't -"

"It's alright." Slade murmured into his hair. "Alright, it's okay, I won't push. But I'll be here if you decide you want to tell me."

He had a lot of questions. What happened? Who dared to touch Dick? Where was Batman at the time and why the fuck did he let that happen? How long has it been since Dick lost his sight? And more, a whole lot more. But Slade was a patient man and he was going to wait as long as it took.

Slade still remembered what it felt like when Adeline shot out his eye - he didn't blame Dick in the slightest for reacting the way he did. Dick had to feel even worse than that, with not being able to see at all. But Slade was here now and he was going to help and make it better, however he can. Even if it'll be just a little bit, Slade wanted to be by Dick's side.

Maybe what they had was so much more than simply fucking and annoying each other on every possible occasion. Maybe they should talk about it soon. Maybe. But not now.

Right now, the most important thing was that-

"I'll be here, little bird." Slade whispered as Dick pressed his face against his neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

/ / / /

Wow that was something for sure! I apologize if the pacing is all over the place, I had a lot of thoughts for this one 🥰

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed please consider [buying me a coffee] 💕 It means a lot!!

#are they a little ooc?#mmm maybe just a little tiniest bit #it's almost 2k words long #and i was fighting with myself to keep it short #but well... you already know that im unable to write short stuff #maybe ill turn it into something bigger one day #who knows #also yes jason was the one who convinced dick to start knitting #and teached him how to do it #my writing #sladick #sladedick #sladin #dickstroke

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

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Human/Mer AU + Bioluminescent Siren Duke ; requested by @justwannabecat!

The human hadn’t been in his territory recently.

He wasn’t attached or anything, but Duke had started to look forward to seeing him around. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying to be under the curious, watchful eyes of a human who could so easily be dragged down into the depths.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be indulging this human’s curiosity, trying to lure him closer time after time. Holding the attention of any human is dangerous; Duke’s heard the stories plenty of time. He’s seen the damage humans can do even more.

There’s just something different about this human, who never dives too deep, who smiles at him and leaves little gifts in the tide pools tucked away from the rest of the beach, hidden from sight. Or rather, usually hidden from sight, since this human is the only one to go there.

It’s foolish, but Duke actually misses his human.

It’s not the first time he’d been gone for long stretches of time, but something feels off. There’s worry curling up at the base of his throat, making him swim to the surface more frequently. Steph had given him a look when she caught him, but didn’t say a word. She shouldn’t, really, when she’s been sneaking up to the surface for her own human friend, some small, dangerous human with dark hair and hands that speak more than a voice.

He’d seen her, just once, when he had gone up to splash water and his human then swim away.

Somehow, things felt easier back then. Like the horrors of the world couldn’t reach them among those tide pools.

It’s reached them now.

Duke’s not expecting to see his human when he swims up to the surface. He’s expecting another quiet night, an empty beach, a dark sky with only the moon casting its lonely light down onto him.

But when he swims up, his eyes go to a figure on the beach instantly.

Even from this distance, Duke knows: that’s his human.

He doesn’t think before he’s swimming over, pushing himself faster than he’s ever gone before. It’s low tide, so he can’t get as close as he wants and can’t reach most of the tide pools at all, but it gets him close enough. Human and merfolk vocal chords are different; he can speak in water, but can’t make more than a few hums in air, and humans can’t really do anything in water at all.

His human is sitting with his knees tucked into his chest on the beach. He’s hiding in his clothes, a hood pulled over his head, but he looks up when Duke drags himself onto the sand.

Duke can see bruises. Dried blood. A stray tear slipping out of his eyes.

He wants to ask what’s happened? But all that comes out is a low crooning noise.

His human laughs, a quiet, bitter noise that makes Duke’s chest tighten uncomfortably. “Hey,” he rasps in a low voice. “Been a while, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve had a better time than I did.”

Duke can’t reach his human. The distance between them isn’t great, but it’s too much. He’s already partially out of the water, hands sinking into the wet sand just out of reach of the waves, and he can’t get any farther out. He reaches a hand out, silently pleading for his human to come closer.

The move makes his human soften, some of the hard edge of tension in his body melt away. He gets up and walks into the water, then sits down next to Duke, taking his hand.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

If they were underwater, Duke would be able to say I missed you too. Don’t ever go away so long again. But his human is in no shape to go underwater right now, so Duke presses his hand against his lips and hums lightly.

They sit in silence for a moment, and Duke realizes that he’s never been this close to any human before. It doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels like relief, to finally have his human in his reach, safe from the rest of the world.

He gives him human another moment, then reaches out and carefully pushes his hood back. His human allows it, blinking at him slowly. Without the shadow of the hood, Duke can clearly see the bruise coloring his cheekbone and the cuts going down his temple to his jaw. His split lip is still red with blood, and what little of his throat isn’t hidden by his clothes reveals more bruises wrapped around the delicate column of his neck.

Duke ghosts his fingers over each of these injuries, hating how easily humans hurt each other. His human leans into the touch despite how it must hurt, something devastating in his expression.

Who hurt you comes out as a questioning trill. Somehow, it gets the point across.

“It’s alright,” his human says. “Really. I’m not even that hurt. It’s just been a long few months. We never talk much, so you wouldn’t know this, but I have to fight a lot of people. Perils of being a hero, you know?”

Duke knows about heroes. More specifically, he knows about mer heroes. He’s considered being one himself, but the currents shifted and he ended up more a loner, banding with the other rejects of the city to live in the fringes and help only those who wander out too far from the marginally safer waters within.

He hasn’t heard of any human heroes, but then again, he doesn’t know much about humans at all. Nothing beyond the stories all parents tell their children to scare them away from the surface, or the horror stories kids tell each other in the middle of the night when they want to scare each other.

He hums again to let his human know he’s listening. His human has such a nice voice. Why haven’t they done this before?

It’s always been a push and pull between them, carefully keeping their distance but always circling back to each other. Duke would let his human swim with him, and his human would let Duke sit safely on the other side of a tide pool, tossing sea shells back and forth between each other.

They don’t even know each other’s names.

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could go back in time and do things better. But he’s happy here with his human and he doesn’t want to lose this either.

He’ll just have to make the best of what he has. It’s how he’s always lived after his parents disappeared.

“This really isn’t that bad,” his human says, “I’ve taken worse hits before. It’s just that I couldn’t transform before the attack started, so now my human form is bruised too.”

…Human form? The more Duke hears, the more questions he has.

Duke hums at a lower octave, placing a hand over his human’s chest.

His human laughs lightly. “Yeah, I guess we’ve never really talked much about ourselves, did we? I’m human, don’t worry, just not all the time. I… actually, I died a few years ago. But I came back partially. So I’m also half dead still and I can transform into a ghost to fight threats. I’m a hero called Phantom. Actually, Danny Phantom since I was stupid enough to just give out my first name when I started out. In my defense, my brain was still a little fried.”

There is so much he wants to say to that. He tries, and makes a series of low hums and clicks in the back of his throat, staring at Danny (he finally got his human’s name!) incredulously.

“I promise I’m fine,” Danny continues. “It was just a bit rough. As soon as I get some time to recover, I’ll be good as new! And I really did miss you, you know. Didn’t even go home first, just come straight here.”

That’s honestly really sweet. Duke hums again, a lighter pitch, and takes hold of Danny’s wrist and tugs him towards deeper waters.

“What? You want me to go in?”

Duke nods, already shuffling his way back out of the sand.

He expects to look awkward during the process. What he most definitely doesn’t expect is for Danny to easily pick him up and walk them both into the ocean.

Listen. Duke is not a small mer. He’s big. He’s got a long, heavy tail and wide fins going down his back, his forearms, and the sides of his tail. It’s a struggle for him to fit into seaweed nests with his friends during the colder seasons, often left to balance on the edge with his tail hanging out. His friends struggle to pull him through the water with his weight. His parents weren’t able to hold him much after he started growing.

None of this matters to Danny, who acts as if Duke weights nothing at all.

To his great embarrassment, his fins flare in appreciation for Danny’s strength. He was not expecting a human to be so strong, but Duke’s not about to lie to himself and say it’s not attractive.

He trills to Danny, who laughs again, then falls into the water, taking them both under.

Duke doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Danny and swims them further out. He stays close to the surface so Danny can rise for air as needed, but he makes no move to leave Duke’s side even after a few minutes.

He glances back, concerned, when he sees that Danny is watching him with dark eyes, not breathing at all despite being conscious.

Danny holds up a finger and closes his eyes. Two rings of light appear around his waist, then split apart and pass over his body. Instantly, Danny’s body becomes lighter, as if Duke’s hand is grasping at a current on the seabed. His hair turns white and his eyes glow from how bright of a green they are, but there’s something inhuman about his features now, something that makes him look different beyond just physical features.

Well. Danny did say he could transform.

Now that they’re underwater, Duke can finally speak. The first thing he asks is, “What was that?”

Danny grins at him. “That,” he says, speaking with ease as if he’s not underwater at all, “was my transformation. And this is my ghost form. Quite the look, isn’t it?”

“You can talk down here?! Also, hi, my name’s Duke. Since I never introduced myself.”

“Ghosts can do a lot of things,” Danny answers with a cheeky grin. “It’s nice to finally know your name. I’ve been calling you glowfish in my head this whole time.”

“Glowfish?”

“Yeah. Because you, you know,” Danny gestures vaguely at him, “Glow.”

Duke glances down at his back fins, which are indeed glowing. They flare a bit from embarrassment, which just makes the dots of light lining the fins more visible. He doesn’t glow a lot, keeping a tight hold of that ability, but sometimes it comes out anyways when he’s feeling especially happy.

And apparently, he’s always very happy around Danny.

It’s a good thing Danny doesn’t know what that means, because if anyone of his friends found out, they’d laugh at how obvious he’s being. Drawbacks of being somewhat bioluminescent: anyone familiar with mers who have this feature know exactly what the glow means.

“Right,” he says just a beat too late. “Well, now that we know each other’s names, can you tell me how you really feel? Those injuries didn’t look too good.”

“It’s fine, really! I take harder hits all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Danny doesn’t answer for a long moment, then sighs. “Yeah. It still hurts.”

“Stay with me for tonight,” he says. “You’ll be safe. You can rest and heal and I’ll keep you safe from anything that comes looking for you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Danny doesn’t put up much of a fight. He must be exhausted. “Yeah, alright. Take me away, Duke. You know, this is like those stories about sirens luring sailors down into the depths.”

“Well, I am a siren.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I take after my mom. She’s the one who taught me how to sing.”

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re friends so I don’t have to worry about being dragged down to my watery death.”

Duke snorts. “Good thing you’re already a ghost then. Not much I can do to you down here.”

He swims down, heading towards a small cavern in a sea rock that he’s claimed as his own, leading Danny into it. The light from his fins illuminates the entrance and the rocks within, a narrow passage that goes in for a few meters before opening up into a larger space full of carefully tended to seaweed and starfish decorating the walls.

There’s a nook tucked away in the back wall where he’s set up a seaweed bed, the plant braided together into something more solid. It’s big enough to fit his tail, which means it’s big enough for him and Danny.

“Here,” he says, helping Danny down. “Get some sleep. Then you can tell me about what happened in the morning and we’ll take it from there.”

“I’m glad you’re here Duke,” Danny whispers, curling up on his side. He holds Duke’s hand, twining their fingers together, and it’s as nice as it is strange to feel how cold Danny is in this form when he was so warm as a human.

“I’ll always be here for you. You just need to come back to me.”

Danny hums, but doesn’t answer. It’s alright; Duke’s used to his loved ones leaving. He knows he can’t make them stay. All he can do is hope they return one day.

It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone in his home. There’s a communal cave where his friends stay that he visits when he gets lonely, but this place used to be for his family. Now it’s just him.

Him and Danny.

The last time there was song in these walls, his mother was still around, singing him lullabies.

Looking down at Danny, curled up and so strangely fragile looking, Duke feels the song build up in his chest. It slips out in low, soft notes, an old melody passed down through generations of their family.

He sings Danny to sleep.

He sings and sings and sings until all his nightmares are soothed and dawn is almost upon them.

It’s all he can do, so Duke sings and hopes it’s enough to keep Danny close to him for just a little longer.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #once again hit by the need to go crazy with worldbuilding #hitting myself w a broom while writing this like KEEP IT SHORT. KEEP IT SHORT!!#this could so easily be 20k+.....#the worldbuilding.... i have Thoughts on mer society and underwater gotham and human/mer differences and so much more #duke's parents were captured by a human (the joker) to use in a fucked up traveling aquarium #danny's still a halfa and a hero but he's not w his parents. they're good parents they just fought the gov for his sake and got arrested #so he's w vlad in a coastal city while jazz is in college #other heroes are still around on land and are not mers so villains are still up there too. and danny had to fight them hence his injuries #he actually got captured a bit and taken to some evil underground gladiator ring he had to fight his way out of mostly in ghost form but #also as a human. and the whole time he just thought abt the only friend he has in this new city which is duke. a mer he visits when he can #there is just SO much i want to write for this but i have to hold myself back....#this whole asking for prompts thing is to make myself writing shorter things... keep fics brief... not 10k+....#anyways. thanks for the prompt!!#i went straight for the hurt/comfort lol

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