#but it got so much worse last year after being quite stagnant for a few years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paellaplease · 3 years

Note

HAII!! if it hasnt been done yet, could you do revali x reader with basorexia? maybe reader really wants to give him a kiss but she really cant since,, yknow she has lips and he has a fuckin beak so she just decides to give him a lil smooch on the cheek? idk that was just an idea i had in mind, u dont have to write it!

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss.

pairing: revali x reader summary: revali spirits you away to enjoy the new years eve festivities.

In the darkness of your room, you awoke to the sound of a soft tapping on your window. Twisting in the mess of blankets and pillows, you pushed aside the papers and textbooks that had accumulated at the foot of the bed, noticing only then that the candle at your desk had long since extinguished.

Head pounding, you rubbed at your tired eyes, feeling heavy. How long had you been asleep?

The tapping grew more insistent, forcing you to get up. Grumbling, you allowed yourself a second to stretch, ignoring how your room felt like water sloshing in a glass.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on!" You said, hobbling to the window. Brushing the mess of hair from your eyes, you pulled the curtains away and roughly pushed it open.

The culprit hovered outside, eyes bright and smug. Revali looked very much at home though he was floating at a dizzying distance away from the ground. In the sleepy haze, he looked like a painting of some myth you had read before, with the late night sky as his backdrop and the outline of your window as his frame.

"Took you long enough."

"Apologies. I thought some tree branches were hitting the glass."

The Rito made a show of turning in the air. "Funny, I don't see any nearby trees."

"I know," you sighed, disappointed.

Revali rolled his eyes and poked his head through the window, feathers brushing past your cheek as he ignored your personal space in favour of scoping out your room. The stiff turn of his neck as he looked around reminded you of the curious and confused little birds that landed on the sill from time to time.

"Quite a dreary home you have here." Gesturing to the overall darkness, he pointed to your stack of scattered papers. "You shouldn't study without proper lighting, it's bad for your eyes."

"I was asleep."

"Why, I'm surprised. And here I thought you were one of the festive many who choose to stay awake at an ungodly hour in order to count down the remaining seconds of the year."

"Well," you shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Not like it's anything special. New year, same shit. What difference would a countdown do?"

Biting down on your tongue, you stopped yourself from saying anymore. The cold breeze sifted past the light shirt you were wearing, making you shiver.

He was right, normally you were one of those people who stayed up, excitedly watching the hands of the clocktower tick til they reached midnight. You enjoyed the energy of being in a collective crowd, waiting with bated breath for the first inhale and exhale you would take into the brand new year.

The final month on the Hylian calendar brought a sense of relief and a hope for new beginnings. Usually today of all days you were at your happiest, jumping at the prospect of celebrating along with the rest of the kingdom and yet…

That sinking weight clawed at your chest again, forcing you to clamp down on it once more.

You grimaced. There it was; that bitter feeling. Hylia. How annoying. It twisted in your brain like an angry snake, pulling down your mood and enthusiasm along with it.

Last year you wanted to cheer and dance until the morning light. Now all you felt like was staring at the wall. Or falling asleep.

You blinked, turning back to the window to see Revali patiently waiting for you to continue. Feeling your face warm, you hustled your brain to get a move on. A coherent thought would be great right about…now!

"Hey have you ever wondered why they don't grow trees on this side of the castle? It's not fair the more expensive quarters get all the pretty greenery. I mean, non-noble guests still need that sweet oxygen everyone keeps raving about, you get me?" Shut up brain, that's enough. I said a coherent thought. C o h e r e n t.

Stars in his wings, Revali shook his head but answered anyway. "I agree, it's hardly fair. Also go change into something warm, we need to get you outside."

"What? Why?"

Something in the Rito's expression clued you in to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to play stupid. You've been sitting in the dark for the past few days and it didn't take a private investigator to know it was playing tricks with your head. "Fine, but when I say we go back--we go back, got it?"

He huffed, turning around to give you some privacy. "I promise on my honour."

The brightly lit lanterns of the town square made you squint as you shuffled closer to your guide, the sound of the city loud in your ears.

Though less prominent, the twisting feeling in your gut continued, making you more hyper-alert than usual to the world around you. Adjusting the sleeves of your coat, you followed Revali past the streets, the Rito expertly navigating through the sea of people.

Somewhere along the way he had taken your hand, and you told yourself it was a good way for you both to stick together. Wouldn't want you getting lost and spending the final minutes of the year playing an elaborate game of hide and seek after all. He was a great friend like that. Nevermind that everytime you would hold his wing a little tighter to remind yourself that he was there, he would always squeeze back.

You needed a distraction.

Just focus on everything that's not him.

The night was alive with the sound of music. It didn't matter if you partied with an alcoholic drink in hand, or a glass of milk, everyone in Hyrule was filled with an addictive buzz that came with an event that only happened once a year. Vendors with bright smiles called out from their stalls, the smell of freshly baked sweets or the sizzle of a barbecue beckoning you to take a closer look. To your left, a group of friends raised their hands in the air, loudly welcoming a Goron that had turned up late but regardless had finally arrived.

The archer followed your line of sight, guessing the question bouncing in your head. "Daruk is in Eldin, probably rattling Death Mountain with that story again about the Moblin camp and the barrel of explosives."

"I love that story."

"Of course you would."

"Sorry about your feathers though."

"Whatever, they grew back."

"How about the one's on your--"

"Anyway," he interjected quickly, playfully nudging you to the side and glowering at your laughter. "We've been told to 'take a break'. The other Champions have chosen to spend this day with their families and loved ones. We are planning to regroup and continue preparations in the days following."

"How about you?"

"I already said it."

Your cheeks coloured at the implications of his words, mind replaying the previous sentence. Families and loved ones. Families and loved ones. He didn't even hesitate. You both were not related. So that left you with...

"Woah!" Digging your heels into the dirt, you abruptly paused your brisk walk and saved yourself from colliding with the archer's back.

Stopping at one of the stalls, Revali held two fingers up. You glanced up at him questioningly but he refused to give anything away, expression relaxed. The vendor returned quickly, the Rito thanking them quietly and placing the payment on the bright yellow table cloth along with a large tip in their jar.

He turned around, dropping a square shaped pastry into your hands. It was some kind of rice cake, with a fluffy exterior and a golden baked surface that smelled of butter and felt warm like the sun.

Taking a bite, you smiled at the hints of coconut that were hidden in its sweet flavour. The sticky treat was familiar somehow. "Is this so luck sticks to you in the new year?"

Revali scoffed, though failed to hide his own smile behind the cake held in his wing. "You said the same thing when we first met. You need new material."

"Says the baron of bird puns."

"I am the king." He punctuated the statement by biting into his own rice cake. Offering his wing, he gently took your hand once more, turning back to step again into the busy promenade.

Following him, you noticed that the crowds ever so slowly began to thin. A lantern lit hill was coming up. The grassy expanse was dotted with a few people, though it was blessingly not as populous as the town square. "I should be the one that's surprised. Thought you hated crowds unless their attentions were all on you."

"It's tolerable so long as I am with good company."

The both of you walked up the hill with an unspoken agreement to make it to the top. Taking a seat on the grass, you allowed yourself to breathe, chest heaving from the small burst of exercise after days of being sedentary.

The twinkling lights of Castle Town stretched out before you. Gazing at it, you could imagine all the untold stories hidden in the glowing little pockets of the alleys and in the hushed whispers behind closed doors. Funny how in a city so full of people, one can feel so alone.

Revali was the first to speak, breaking you from your thoughts. "I think I can understand now. Looking at it from this distance, it really can feel like nothing much has changed."

You continued to stare at the lights, trying to focus on a certain string in an attempt to ground yourself. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like though the world continues to spin, I'm remaining completely still. Just stagnant."

Frowning, you ran your hands through the grass, feeling the dirt shift under your fingers. You could feel your frustrations building, bubbling up to the surface with no way of dragging them back down.

"And the challenges just get worse every year. How am I going to face those old problems and these new ones if I'm still the same lost person I was back then?"

Your voice echoed at the last sentence, making you hide your head in embarrassment. That was loud.

Some strangers relaxing on the hill turned around to flash you an annoyed glare, before quickly returning to their picnics after spotting the Great Eagle Bow on your friend's back.

"I'm so sorry." You wanted more than anything then to dig a hole and hibernate preferrably for the next hundred years or so. "I'm yelling, that isn't like me. I'm so so--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to say it." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. There was a serious element to it that made it a little hard to breathe. "There is one part of that I don't agree with, however."

"What is it?"

"That entire section about you, how did you put it, stagnanting." He twisted a wing in the air, thinking on his words before pointing a feather directly at your face. "You're fully capable of enacting the change you want to see in yourself."

You felt a little dizzy now. But another kind of dizzy, one very different from the vertigo you felt waking up in the darkness of your room.

"And who said you were exactly the same as you were back then? You've changed. In a good way. You're stronger and more capable of things I'm sure the person you were two years ago or even less couldn't even fathom doing."

Turning to face you, Revali gave you his full attention, compelling you to do the same as the cadence of his speech joined the steady rhythm of your own beating heart. From the back of your mind, you could barely register the sound of people gathering together, their voices floating into the cold night air.

'Ten!'

"It's difficult to see your own progress from a distance."

'Nine!'

"So take my advice and start looking at yourself up close for once."

'Eight!'

He had that expression on his face, one that said he was thinking too hard about something. It was like watching him try to pull the planets together with just a piece of string. His brows were furrowed so deep that your fingers wished to run over his feathers and smoothe the worried creases.

'Seven!'

You slowly reached out to him, giving him enough time to back away. Revali stilled as your hands traced up the nape of his neck, leaning in as his pulse thrummed underneath the soft pads of your fingertips.

'Six!'

He opened his beak the moment you reached his face. You paused, half expecting him to tell you to let go and pretend like it never happened.

Instead, he called out your name.

'Five!'

He said your name again, though quieter now. It was enough to tug at the invisible force drawing you two together. Enough so that the polite distance nervously enforced by the both of you gradually began to dissipate, trailing away like a ribbon of smoke as you both leaned in closer.

'Four!'

"May I--," He cleared his throat, eyes darting away for a second before they were back on you again. Bright green in the lantern light. Emeralds in the desert sand.

'Three!'

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

'Two!'

"Your way or mine?" You couldn't help but joke. Revali smiled, exhaling a soft joyful laugh before pressing his forehead to yours.

'One!'

'Happy New Year!'

An earth-shaking boom rattled your ears, but all you could think of in that moment was Revali and the feel of his feathers against your skin; the utter elation of being so close to someone you deeply cared for and that cared just as deeply for you.

In the dazzling light you lifted your head from his, both your eyes meeting for a brief moment. Hands moving, you gently angled his face with a steady hand, feeling then the soft, butterfly light brush of his wings on your waist.

Closing your eyes again, you leaned in to press your lips against his beak, the blush on your face warmer than any fever or furnace. The Rito's soft sigh was barely audible as you trailed your kisses upwards, stopping at the red circle on his cheek.

Revali laughed again as you turned his face to press a kiss to the identical red mark on the other side. "You're very thorough."

"You deserve it." You beamed. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait at the end of the countdown I'll--"

"Actually my dear," he grinned, pointing to the sky.

"Huh?"

Above you were the vibrant colours of the firework display. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, but a confirmation that you were definitely minutes in to the new year.

"Oh," you said, before shaking your head with a smile. "It's fine, we got 12 more months to prepare ourselves for the next one."

Revali nodded, pulling you closer so he could press your foreheads together again.

"Indeed," he grinned. "Now will you finish your sentence? What exactly were you going to do at the end of the countdown?"

fin.

#revali x reader #revali #botw #revali botw #prompt fic #more taggs later #i wrote this entirely on my phone so apologies for any errors #been thinking about this for a long time #also very late but happy new years #paella writes

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quinncupine · 3 years

Text

Obscured Chapter Eleven: Black Ties and Loose Ends

Chapter Word Count: 7,290

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Previous Chapter: Ten

Next Chapter: Twelve

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Angst, mentions of injuries

Notes: So sorry this took a very long time to get out, but I do hope you enjoy it!

It was nearing late afternoon. The sky an orange haze with thin streaks of clouds that seemed stagnant from your position on the couch. The house was silent, aside from the dull noise of the television on the wall playing the pre-show of the gala. You had tuned it out a while ago. It was the same thing every year; two hosts talking and playing games with the fans who were hoping to meet their heroes. The only thing you could even remotely focus on was trying to figure out the right words to convince your husband to stay home, but Izuku was a stubborn man.

Said man stepped into the living room, messing with his crooked and all too stubby dress tie. A small scowl on his face as he tried to fix it, but only seemed to shorten it more. When he looked up and saw you tucked into the corner of the couch glaring daggers out the window, he forgot all about the tie.

"Y/N," he said softly, feet rooted to the spot on the other side of the room. "I have to do this."

"You always have to do things," you grumbled, tucking your legs in closer, refusing to look at him. "But not when you're supposed to be on bed rest for at least the next week. You're such a hypocrite." That last part came out mumbled, but he still caught it.

"I've been through worse before. I was trained for this. I'll be fine."

Rolling your eyes, you finally turned your steely gaze on him. "You say that every time and then you land yourself right back into a hospital bed."

"But I've always turned out fine in the end."

"That's not a philosophy you should be living by Izuku!" you grabbed your head "You're just as human as the rest of us and you can die just as easily."

"Y/N-"

"I'm worried about you, you idiot!" You jumped to your feet, raising your voice. "Can't you see that? Why do you always have to run off and go play hero even if that means you won't come back to me!"

He stood there, a slight frown on his face, but he didn't look like he was giving in any time soon. "I have to-"

"Why?" you finally screamed at him. "Why do you have to go!"

"Because I have to make it right!" he yelled back, then shrunk in on himself, lowering his voice. "I have to fix this. It's my responsibility." His head dropped. "It's my fault."

It wouldn't matter how many times you told him it wasn't. His entire personality is based on that insecurity of never being enough and words can only do so much. His body wasn't the only thing injured this time.

Your gaze drifted down to his tie and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. "How is it that you can save hundreds of lives every day and yet you still can't tie a tie properly?" With a sigh, you walked over to him. There was a bit of hesitance before you reached out to grab the stub of a tie. "Honestly Izuku, you're an enigma."

He held his breath as you untied the tie, body stiff and so unfamiliar to your touch. The Izuku you knew, at least the one you knew before the attack, couldn't get enough affection from you. Now he shied away from even being near you. You knew why. You had the same reservations, but this was your husband. The man you trusted and you had to show him that. You had to show yourself that.

"I don't save that many people," he murmured, staring at your hands, "and what's wrong with my tie?"

"What's wrong with it?" you tugged the fabric up to tickle his nose. "It's a stub. Honestly, I think you just refuse to learn how to do it properly."

"It looks better when you do it." He whispered, still staring at your hands.

With nimble fingers from years of practice, you pulled the tie through the first loop. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm still here then." You didn't mean to imply anything by it, but the way his eyes darted to his shoes, he obviously put meaning into the words.

"Sorry." It was a word you were getting quite sick of hearing lately.

Pausing on the second loop, you peeked up at him. "This plan of yours...it'll work, right?" He refused to look at you so you sinched the knot up to his neck forcing him to stumble closer with a slight wince. "You're nowhere near healed enough to be doing anything dangerous. This Ikari woman is getting under your skin. Making you reckless...well, more reckless than usual. I don't like it."

"I'm sorry Y/N, but-"

"Ugh," you pushed him away, "just stop with the sorry's already. I don't want apologies. I just want you to be safe."

"Y/N", he held up his palms, "I'm-"

"I swear to god, if you say sorry one more time," you threatened, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He deflated, a hand running through his gelled hair. When he opened his mouth to say something, he stopped and instead turned away, rubbing his face. The two of you hadn't been able to finish a single conversation since you came back home. Luckily, Inko had gone to stay with the retired pro Aizawa for the evening, to return a favor he owed Izuku. There was already enough tension in this house as it was, adding a third person would only make it worse.

The doorbell rang, cutting into the thick silence permeating the room. It irritated you that even the doorbell could make you flinch now. Everything seemed to startle you nowadays and you were hating it. Izuku used the interruption to escape the room and came back a few moments later with a casually dressed Shinso in tow.

Since you weren't going to the gala, you wanted to talk with your boss. Nazim, your friend who worked with you at the hospital, had texted a heads-up earlier. Apparently, there was talk of Haru replacing you after the whole 'teleporting your near-dead husband in the E.R.' fiasco. There was no way you could just sit at home and worry in front of the television all night anyway. This provided a productive distraction, even if you dreaded the talk with your boss.

Shinso had volunteered to accompany you to the hospital since he loathed going to things like galas, or really anywhere with a lot of focused attention. You didn't mind either because you liked Shinso. He was quiet and respectable. Plus having someone with you gave you some comfort.

Thank you, Shinso," Izuku said, grabbing the underground hero's shoulder as they walked in. "I really appreciate it."

He shrugged. "It's fine. I never liked going to those things anyway." Then he waved at you. "Hey, Y/N. No fancy dresses tonight?"

"Think it'll make my boss more lenient?" you joked with a half-smile.

"Eh, you'll be fine. The bark is worse than the bite, right?" he smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"You clearly haven't met my boss," you muttered, searching for your purse.

Izuku glanced at his watch. "I've got to get going," he finally looked at you, "you have your phone, right?"

"Yeah, I got everything I need," slinging the bag over your shoulder, you grabbed his arm, "you?"

That single touch seemed to send him spiraling again. He froze, staring at your hand as if it would shatter with a single breath. With a nod, he stepped back and let your arm slip off him.

Frowning, you turned to Shinso. "Can I have a minute?"

"Uh, yeah." It was easy to sense the awkward tension in the room, so he excused himself rather quickly. "I'll just be outside."

When Shinso closed the door behind him, you crossed your arms, willing his eyes to meet yours. "Izuku, look at me." After some reluctance, he finally looked up. "I know things are...messy right now, but I need to know you have a clear head tonight." Stepping just a bit closer, you held out your hand. "I know you. I know you're feeling horrible right now and if I could fix everything, I would. But that's not how the world works, we both know that. I'm not upset with you Izuku," you sighed, dropping your head. "When this is over, we definitely have some things to talk about, but right now, I need to know you'll be okay tonight."

A stray tear fell from one of his eyes as he lightly grabbed the offered hand. "How can you forgive me? You should be furious with me."

"Do you want me to be?" you cocked your head, "is that it?"

He went back to staring at your hand, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "No, but...but you should. If they didn't stop me then-"

"Izuku, thinking that way is only going to dig a deeper hole." Grabbing the lapels on his jacket, you pulled him close. "You are a hero and a damn good one. Please just..." the lump in your throat blocked the words so you rested your head on his chest instead. Through his vest, you could feel the thin material of the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest.

That unfamiliar tenseness came back. You'd been together for so long that being around each other was easy, but this was unlike any Izuku you knew. When you had first started dating, he was a cute awkward mess that smiled and laughed because he didn't know what else to do around you. But this...this was an entirely different kind of anxiety. He felt like a stranger and that in itself made you upset.

"I hate this," it was all but a whisper.

"I know, but I have to go-"

"No, that's not what I mean," you twisted your head up to stare at him. "This. I hate this."

"This?" Those giant foresty eyes fell into your own and you could practically hear what he was thinking. 'Me?'

I just-" trying to voice your thoughts was a lot harder than you realized. Mainly because you were still trying to figure them all out. "Once this is over, I want things to go back to normal, but I...I don't think they can."

His fingers rested on either arm, gently digging into the fabric of your sweater. That was the closest he's come to holding you since you left the hospital. He looked so lost, so unsure and it killed you inside. There was a small moment of silence that beat in your ears until he finally nodded, closing his eyes.

"After tonight, whatever you decide," there was a slight warble to his voice, "I'll...support you."

A small hum and you leaned into him before the words clicked in your mind. "Wait, hold on," you pulled back, holding him at arm's length, "that sounds like you think I want to leave. Is that what you think?"

He stared at his shoes, not daring to look at you.

"Or is it the other way around?" Frowning, you shook his arms "Izuku, look at me."

Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his arms across his chest, carefully aware of how much pain even that motion cost him. "If you would've...died, I don't think I can even handle the thought of that. I knew this life was dangerous and I was fine with that, but then you came into the picture and turned everything on its head. You made me realize that there's more to life than just being a hero," a shaky exhale and he continued, "I thought I could handle both. I thought... well, I thought a lot of things that I clearly can't do." He backed away, shaking his head. "I love you more than anything, but if being here with me means you get hurt, then..." those wide eyes of his were desperately searching for some kind of confirmation, but you refused to give it to him.

"Look here," you marched over and poked his chest, "I appreciate the fact that you want to protect me, but I'm a grown woman. I make my own decisions. Not you, or anyone else who thinks they can decide what's best for me." He opened his mouth to say something, but you just held up a hand. "Maybe I hit you in the head too hard, or maybe I didn't hit you hard enough, but you're acting like an idiot. If you think I'm going anywhere, then let me tell you, you've got another thing coming."

Another moment of silence searching your face before a breathy laugh blew past his lips. "Stubborn as always."

"Oh, so I'm the stubborn one?" Jutting out your hip, you crossed your arms and glared at him. "So says the most stubborn man alive."

Finally, a tiny smile took up residence on his face. "Alright, fine. I suppose we can both be a little stubborn sometimes." His fingers delicately reached up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and lingered there. His hand no longer taut with so much anxiety. "You're amazing."

"Okay, don't go gettin' all sappy when you got a job to do," you said, yet you leaned into his touch. "Besides, you have to go meet up with your date."

Another successful chuckle, "Jealous?"

"You wish," finally pulling away, you picked up your bag and winked at him. "I've already got myself a hot date tonight."

Heading to the door, you left Izuku standing in the living room, eyes wide. "You're just messing with me, right?" He followed after you. "I mean, you don't think he's-"

When you reached the door, you glanced back at him. "What? Jealous?" you fired back and watched as his face flushed red. "I guess you'll have to find out after you come back home in one piece." A brief moment of hesitation before you grabbed his shoulder and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "And you better come back home in one piece."

He blinked when you pulled away. Before he could say anything else, you opened the door and greeted Shinso who was leaning against the porch railing.

"Yo," he waved, somehow looking even more tired.

"I know you're Mr. Badass, but those injuries aren't fully healed. I'm gonna say this again in case you didn't understand the first hundred times; you're going against all my medical advice," you said to Izuku as the three of you walked down the porch. "So just please don't do anything too reckless, okay?"

"I know and I'm sor-" you shot him a warning glare and he coughed out the last part, rubbing the back of his head. "I won't be reckless."

That earned a quiet chuckle from Shinso who opened the car door for you.

"Good," you tossed the purse into the seat, "let's see if you can actually hold up that end of the bargain this time. And if not, here." You slipped a small pouch in the pocket just inside his vest. "It's only if you pull your stitches so try not to pull them in the first place."

"Thank you," he patted the pocket and glanced at Shinso who had gotten into the driver's side. "If you need anything, call me. You'll know where I'll be."

"Likewise," patting his cheek, you gave him another gentle kiss. "Love you."

That smile never ceased to exist every time you kissed him. Even now after everything, it still shined through his nervous exterior. Some things never change. Seeing that brought a smile to your own face as he breathily whispered it back. His fingers swept along your arms, barely touching the skin, but it was more than you'd gotten all day and you'd take it. The two of you stood like that for a moment before you finally slipped into the car.

He closed the door for you and nodded to Shinso. The car slowly backed out of the driveway and Izuku waved goodbye. Not the last goodbye if you had anything to say about it.

After a quiet car ride, you finally arrived at the hospital. White knuckled fingers unclenched themselves from your pants and you let out a heavy breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Guess car rides were just another box to check off on the growing list of things that unsettled you now. Wonderful.

"Thanks for coming with me," you said as the two of you entered the building. "I know it's probably not any fun to play babysitter."

The sun was starting to set, which meant the guests at the gala would be arriving soon for the red carpet event. It would be the first year you weren't with Izuku for it in almost six years. The press would be ruthless this year and if he wasn't careful would try to rip him to shreds. But for now, you had to focus on your own problems in the form of one Mr. Nobusuke: your boss.

"I don't mind really," he shrugged and glanced up at one of the T.V.'s as they passed a waiting area. It was currently broadcasting the live feed from the red carpet event where dozens of heroes were posing for the cameras or being interviewed. "It's better than being there, trying to socialize.

A laugh bubbled out as you tried to imagine Shinso standing on that red carpet smiling for the cameras. Those two images didn't mesh well together.

"Hey, so I never got the chance to properly thank you. You really saved me...us back there."

Pursing his lips, he stuffed his hands into his pockets with a hum. He didn't look all that convinced.

"I think your quirk helped clear his mind a little," you said a bit quieter, aware of the people passing by. "You're really impressive. I mean it."

Turning his gaze on you, he said, "I guess I can see why you and Midoriya go together so well."

"What do you mean?"

"Where's this office at?" Shinso stopped and looked down a few halls.

"Hey, you can't just change the subject like that!" Crossing your arms, you stepped in front of him, but he ignored you and kept walking. "Hey!" you called after him, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you know when I first met Midoriya, I hated him?" It was said so casually. "I was so frustrated that someone who had no grasp of how to use their quirk made it into the hero course." Running a hand through frizzy hair, he continued, "but as I got to know him I realized how relentless he is. Stubborn to a fault and refuses to give up no matter what. Willing to do anything for the people he loves."

You looked at your shoes. "That's Izuku alright."

"It's also you."

"Me?" Now that had you confused. No one's ever compared you to Izuku: the great hero Deku. "I'm not a hero."

"You don't have to be a hero to help someone. It's why you chose this career, right?" he gestured around the building. "Even after everything that happened, you worked till you dropped to save him. Sounds pretty heroic to me." With a shrug, he picked a hall to walk down. "But who am I to say?"

Digesting the words, you looked at him. "How come you didn't want to be a public hero?"

"I don't look so good in the spotlight." Pulling the skin under his eyes, he grinned at you. "I think it's the bags."

"Oh come on, that's not a real answer."

"It's just not the kind of hero I wanted to be. Midoriya has the personality and the quirk fit for the public. But for me, it's easier to work when no one knows who you are. I don't give a shit about recognition and I doubt the public would be very accepting of my quirk anyway. As long as I can still use my power to help, then I'm fine with where I am."

Bumping shoulders, you flashed him a smile. "Well, I think you're cool Shinso, and I'm not just saying that cause you saved my life. Although, that is a bonus." you scored a grin with that one.

The rest of the walk was made in comfortable silence with you trying to avoid eye contact with anyone you might recognize. Nazim had said Mr. Nobusuke was in his office late tonight, still dealing with all the press from the incident. You wanted to catch him off-guard because if he had time to get everything in order, Haru could very well take your job. When you eventually arrived at the door to the office, you stood in front, dreading the talk. Mr. Nobusuke was a no-nonsense kind of guy and after the fiasco in the E.R., you weren't sure what to expect. This should be fun.

"I'll be out here," Shinso smirked, pushing you forward on the small of your back. "Good luck."

Mustering up as much courage as you could, you knocked on the door and heard a gruff voice invite you in. With a deep breath and one last glance at Shinso, you cracked the door and peered inside. "Hello, Mr. Nobusuke."

"Oh, Mrs. Midoriya, come in." He was standing by the bookshelf, shifting through one of his prized leather-bound, first edition books. "I'm surprised to see you here of all places. Shouldn't you be at home resting with your husband? As I recall, he was put on bed rest."

"Uh, well, actually he went to the gala," you said, wringing your fingers, "but there's something I want to talk-"

"He went to the gala in his condition? I suppose nothing holds that man down." He snapped the book closed with a loud pop and carelessly dropped it on the coffee table, causing you to flinch at the noise. "I would think you'd much rather be there than talking with an old man like me tonight." With a bellied laugh, he made his way over to his desk.

"I think you're overestimating how fun galas are." You nervously laughed along with him, tugging at the thick scarf around your neck. "But I did have a reason for coming."

"Oh? Well do sit down then," he pointed to the chair across from his desk. "What brings you in." The chair squeaked and strained under his weight as he lounged back, arms crossed.

Seeing him sitting so relaxed was odd. Maybe it was the time of day. You never really spoke to him outside of working hours other than events. He wasn't the type to socialize with his subordinates nor had the time to. The man grew up in America before moving back to Japan once he graduated. He didn't have the same workplace ideals as everyone else, but he was good at what he did. Despite his aloofness, you managed to secure a good relationship with him. This, on the other hand, was a different side you had yet to see.

"Um," this was far from what you were expecting and somehow his lax attitude was making you more nervous. "I wanted to talk to you about my job."

"I believe you're still on leave, yes?" A grin split across his lips as he sat up and searched through a stack of folders placed neatly on the center of his desk. "After what happened, I would understand if you wanted more time off."

"No, that's the thing," you squeezed your fingers together, watching as he pulled out a thick file. "I don't want any more time off. I want to come back."

"Ah, here they are." he triumphantly held up the folder and opened it. "Do you know what this is?"

"Uh..."

"These are your records." The way he held the folder made it hard to see exactly what was inside. "And complaints."

"Complaints?" Everything was starting to spiral.

"Yes, complaints. Did you know Mr. Haru filed twenty-four complaints against you in the past six months?" He peered over the folder. "In case you're wondering, that's a lot.

"Okay, but-"

"Don't interrupt," those stormy gray eyes of his flashed darkly and you looked down at your hands. "Remind me, how long have you been charge nurse here?"

"Three years."

"Would you say you're doing a competent job?"

This was definitely not going how you planned. "Yes."

"Now I realize you've had a...difficult month, but I need to think about the wellbeing of all my staff and patients. Not just you Midoriya." Tucking the folder back into the stack, he folded his hands and sighed. "So I think it's best we hand over your duties to Haru for the time being. And I think a transfer is in order."

"A transfer?" Hands gripped the edge of the desk as you tried to real in your anger. "Sir, with all due respect, I am more than capable of handling my duties just fine. And Haru, well he-"

"What did I say about interrupting." He held up a hand, cutting you off. "What's done is done. You will be transferred to Admissions when you return from your leave. That is all Mrs. Midoriya."

No. You couldn't just let him do this. You had to do something. "Mr. Nobusuke, please cane we just-"

"That is all." That growl marked the end of the conversation.

Fingers digging into the wood, you stood up. There were so many things you wanted to say, but screaming at your boss would only dig the hole deeper. You needed time to come back with a solid argument, so reluctantly, you let go of the desk and stormed from the room.

Once you burst through the door, you didn't slow down, marching right past Shinso. He hopped off his spot on the wall and caught up with you, hands deep in his pockets.

"Might wanna slow down or you're gonna trample someone," he said, easily keeping pace with you. "Judging by your face and that steam coming out of your ears, I'd say that didn't go well."

You grabbed your ears before you realized what you were doing and scowled at him. "Real funny."

"Okay, just-" Shinso reached out to pull you aside and you instinctively grabbed his wrist and shoved him away. He stumbled back a few feet, holding up his hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean- look, I'm not the best at the whole comforting thing, but I am good at listening. Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

In a vain attempt to tap out the annoyance with your foot, you crossed your arms and glared at the wall. It didn't work, so you turned to him with a huff. "I was demoted. Happy?"

"Why?"

"I don't know!" you burst out, "Haru's always been a pain in the ass. Even Mr. Nobusuke knows that. I've been charge nurse for over three years. I worked my ass off just to get there! All that hard work and I get demoted to Admissions?" Every muscle in your body was clenched, ready to explode any second. "It doesn't make any sense. It's like he's punishing me. I just, I'm just..." you paced back and forth, taking shallow breaths before Shinso caught your shoulders, halting you.

"Take a breath Y/N." He said with a calmness you envied. "Why don't we go get some coffee. You look like you could use some."

Following his advice, you took a few deep breaths, feeling your heart calm just a fraction. In hindsight, you were glad you didn't drag Inko along. Having another breakdown in front of the poor woman wouldn't look good.

Taking the lead, you eventually made your way down to the cafeteria where you ordered your coffee (Shinso put six shots of espresso in his) and sat at one of the tables in the corner.

"I put so much into this place and this is how they treat me?" you grumbled as you ripped a packet of creamer open and dumped it into the cup. "This is not an easy job, but have I ever complained?" a pause, "have I ever complained out loud? No."

"From what Midoriya's told me, you're the best of the best," he said, watching you furiously stir the coffee.

"Well that's just Izuku being Izuku," you waved it off. "But I am quite capable of my job. I could walk back in there tonight and I wouldn't have a problem. People are just getting too hung up on what happened, but I'm fine. They're all treating me like some sort of traumatized child and I'm so sick of it."

Shinso took a large sip. "Well, have you told them that?"

"Yeah, but that's not going to change how they see it." Rubbing your face, you glanced out the large wall of windows lining the cafe. "I mean yeah, it was scary, but if you guys can go through those things every day and come out fine, then why can't I?"

"Whoever said we come out fine?" Shinso cocked his head. "Those experiences change everyone. Trying to compare yourself to how others handle them is only going to lead you down a bad path. Just because we look like we've got it handled doesn't mean that we do. You live with Midoriya, you know that first hand." He leaned back. "Part of being a public hero is hiding everything under that golden rug and dazzling smile, but it's still there. It's always there and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying."

No one had ever been that blunt with you before, not even Tsu. In a way it was refreshing.

"So what do I do then?"

"I don't know if I have an answer to that." Shrugging, he took another long sip. "I think it's something that you need to decide for yourself. What do you want to do about it."

What do you want? That seemed to be the buzzword question lately and despite everything, you were lacking the solution. Deep in thought, your eyes drifted around the room until they landed on the television on the wall behind Shinso. Of course, they'd have the gala on in here. It was on nearly every channel tonight. The event was one of the biggest functions all year and everyone who was anyone would either be there or be watching.

Different heroes sauntered down the carpet, waving those all too fake smiles at the cameras and adoring fans lining the roped-off walkway. A few younger heroes were being interviewed at the moment and you half-heartedly listened to the conversation before the crowd erupted in a sudden uproar that drew the camera's attention.

Izuku had just arrived. Beside him was his mentor, All Might. He plastered a smile to his face and made his way down the carpet a little too stiffly. If you were anyone else, you probably wouldn't have noticed, but you did. He was still in a lot of pain. That wound was far from healed and you were regretting not trying harder to stop him from going.

Every interviewer stationed along the carpet tried to rope him in for a conversation and he expertly avoided them until one bold woman stepped out of her designated area to pull him aside. He was all but powerless to stop her with all the eyes on him.

"A quick word, if you will Deku," the reporter said. He had no choice, leaving now would only hurt his character. Trapped by societal convention. "It's great to see you tonight, but many were speculating that you wouldn't show, given the events of the past few days," she grinned, sparing a glance at All Might, "but here you are looking as healthy as ever and with the former Number One Hero All Might no less." She stuck the mic right under his nose and asked a question that had you holding your breath. "But I suppose everyone is wondering, after all the rumored news these past few weeks, how is your wife, Y/N Midoriya?"

Izuku took a deep breath, shuffling his feet in the back of the car, casting nervous glances out the window every few seconds. He didn't realize he was tapping his feet until Yagi grabbed his knee.

"Calm down son, you're gonna stop a hole in this car if you keep that up," the retired hero tried for a laugh, but Izuku only muttered out an apology before he switched to tapping his fingers on the seat beside him. "Izuku, look at me."

"Hey, Izuku," Yagi whispered, reaching across the little space that separated them in the limo and grabbed his arm. The minute those boney fingers connected, Izuku flinched so hard he slammed his head into the roof.

Ever since Izuku got in the car, the man had been quiet, which wasn't like the Izuku he knew. The man was a chatterbox and only grew worse the more distressed he was. This whole quiet attitude was disconcerting, to say the least. Yagi had never seen him look quite so desolate before. Izuku's face was pale and creased in a nervous concern, deep in thought. His once gelled hair was starting to fray and poke out in certain places from all the times he'd run a hand through it. It would be a miracle if no one noticed anything off about him.

Stunned, he blinked and looked at the older man. One hand carefully rubbing over the bandages concealed under his dress suit. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Yagi was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out the right words. "Izuku, are you sure this is the right call? I don't doubt you, but you're still injured. No one would think any less-"

"No, that's not why I'm doing this. I need to be here," he interrupted, sitting straighter and wincing at the sudden motion. "I'm fine. I can handle this."

"No one said you couldn't. I'm just worried," he sighed. "You're not even supposed to be out of the hospital yet. You've always been so reckless with yourself. Don't forget you have friends you can rely on. Don't try to do everything yourself." Yagi paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes, "Are you sure you're not using this to push yourself towards some sort of atonement because-"

"I said I'm fine!" Izuku yelled, dark green eyes shooting a nasty glare to the man he considered a pseudo-father before he realized what he did. With a shake of his head, he leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry Toshi. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's alright," Yagi frowned as he watched his protégé take a slow, pained breath, "I can imagine the stress you're under right now." One of his hands rested on Izuku's shoulder. "I believe you can do anything you set your mind to because, well, I've seen it with my own eyes. But please," he caught Izuku's gaze, "please be careful."

"We have the plan," Izuku seemed to say more to himself than Yagi. "If anything goes wrong, we have the backup plan. It'll work." The car slowed to a stop and the both of them glanced out the tinted windows to see a mob of flashing cameras waiting for them just outside. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Of course," Yagi patted his shoulder, "who else would want an old man like me as their date?" Finally pulling a genuine grin from Izuku, Yagi grabbed the handle. "Ready?"

Another deep breath and he nodded. As soon as the door opened, the buzz of the crowd swelled. Every camera whipped in their direction. Even some of the heroes being interviewed turned their heads.

Izuku had been at the top for a few years now and that in itself always garnered media attention, but this time was different. He'd been at the center of the news for weeks now with different allegations coming from all directions. Some quite scandalous and utterly ridiculous, but they weren't to be taken lightly. And now, he'd made his first public appearance in days, at the gala of all places. That in itself was a statement, whether good or bad was still to be determined. The spotlight was his tonight, even if he didn't want it.

Yagi climbed out first, waving to the crowd, followed by a stilted Izuku. He swallowed that thick ball of nerves in his throat and forced that trained smile on his face. There was no room for error. Not here. Especially not here. As much as his chest ached, he kept his head high and waved for the flashing cameras.

A few heroes lining the red carpet were so caught up in the arrival of Deku and All Might together that they forgot about their own interviews. Everyone wanted a shot at talking to the hero, but Izuku tried his best to avoid getting drawn in by one of the reporters. He just wanted to make it inside the building, away from the public. For the most part, the event was private, save for the speech and performances near the end that were broadcast live. Once he was inside, he could finally breathe.

They made it halfway down the carpet before a woman darted in front of them, blocking Izuku. "A quick word if you will Deku." He was so close to making it inside, but now he'd have to talk. " It's great to see you tonight, but many were speculating that you wouldn't show, given the events of the past few days," that grin radiated a hungry ruthlessness he'd seen in his fair share of reporters. "But here you are, looking as healthy as ever and with the former Number One Hero All Might no less." She shoved the mic in his face. "But I suppose everyone is wondering, after all the rumored news these past few weeks, how is your wife, Y/N Midoriya?"

That was a question he was dreading. He knew they would try to pry out some sensitive answers from him tonight and refusing to answer certain questions was an answer in itself. For the past few years, he was able to mostly keep you out of the public eye, usually only coming up when important events surrounding his status were brought up. This time, you'd been forced into the limelight by a series of events he wasn't able to stop. Saying the wrong thing now would only add fuel to the fire. He needed to choose his words carefully.

"I'm glad everyone is so concerned for my wife's wellbeing," he smiled through his teeth, "but this year the gala is a closed event." He'd worked with the commission to ensure only heroes would be allowed entry for safety concerns. No plus ones this year. That change alone caused quite the commotion, but it had to be done. "So, unfortunately, she couldn't be here with me tonight."

They both knew that wasn't the answer she wanted.

"And what about you?" She pressed, "The Hero Billboard charts will be released soon. Are you worried that your performance this year will knock you out of the top spot?"

A performance. That's all this was. That's all it's become, even to him. Being a hero wasn't about saving people or doing 'good' anymore. It was about rankings and popularity. And he was sick of it.

When he didn't say anything, she continued, "I also hear you were freshly released from the hospital only yesterday?" That was hot topic news to anyone at this point, but even so, his smile wavered for a moment. This woman was relentless. "My sources tell me it was quite a significant injury. How are you faring now?"

"Well, as you can see," he twisted around with a chuckle, "I'm perfectly fine."

"It seems so," she sounded disappointed, "but your wife was rumored to be there as well so-"

"Well, thank you for your time," Yagi cut in, startling the woman. She nearly forgot he was there. "But I believe the event is starting soon." In one easy sweep of his arms, he pulled Izuku away.

Yagi ushered Izuku further down the carpet, leaving the woman open-mouthed, holding the microphone out to no one. She quickly recovered and moved onto another hero walking her way, but Yagi caught the little glare she tossed his way.

Once they made it through the doors and into the foyer, Izuku stepped off to the side, getting a few curious glances. Faint orchestral music replaced the dull roar of the crowd, but he could only focus on his breathing. That little spin he pulled off wasn't doing him any favors. It was bad enough that the wound was barely closed, but he decided against any type of painkillers. He'd had enough of drugs for a long while and in his mind, he rationalized it as needing a clear head tonight. At least that's what he'd told the others. The part he left out, the real reason he decided against it was that he thought he deserved to be in pain right now. It was a small way of atoning. One you would be absolutely furious about if you found out.

"Thanks, Toshi," Izuku sighed, absentmindedly rubbing his chest.

"Well, I should be thanking you," the retired pro smiled, "I didn't have to answer any questions this year."

This time, Izuku did manage a small laugh. When he composed himself again, he looked to the large doors that held the gala. This was it. It would all end here tonight.

Cups nearly empty, you stared out the window, watching small flecks of silvery snow hit the glass and promptly melt. Fingers mercilessly bent the little coffee straw into different shapes. Izuku put on a good show for the camera. That's all it really was, wasn't it? The whole thing was just a show. No one cared about the people behind the masks.

You don't think he'll lose his ranking over this, do you?" A small glance up at Shinso before they flickered back to the straw.

"I don't know." That admission, while honest, flipped your stomach. "There's no pleasing the public. All they want is whatever shiny new thing you dangle in front of them. It's impossible to keep them on your side forever."

The chair screeched against the tile as you stood. Shinso took one last desperate swig of his coffee before getting up to follow you. Your nails dug into the plastic cup as you marched over to the trash bins.

The straw snapped in half. "I want to go home now."

"Hey, I just meant that eventually, they'll find something else to hate on." He caught up to you, leaning on one of the bins. "Don't worry about it. It's got nothing to do with you and everything to do with the system itself."

That wasn't true. It was you that started this whole mess in the first place. As much as Izuku likes to take the blame, the fact was Tatsuya came after you because of you. Even if someone else had set him up for it, you were still involved and it hurt that you couldn't even do anything about it.

"What, so everything's supposed to blow over just like that?" You crossed your arms, turning to him. "It's supposed to be that easy?"

"No, I just meant-"

"Mrs. Midoriya?" A frantic voice spoke up behind you.

Hearing your name called out like that startled you so much, you nearly knocked one of the bins over in your haste to whirl around. Standing a few feet away was a face you'd nearly forgotten in light of everything. "Mr. Miwa?"

Taglist: @dorki-time @miriobaby @thecindy @awilddreamerwrites @sailorstupidsblog @kenmaskitten10 @slytherintothedms @chanyeoloml @tanakasprayer @kiyoobi @justscar @amive2567

#izuku midoriya x reader #pro hero deku x reader #deku x reader #taken series #bnha #mha #deku #midoriya izuku #pro hero deku #angst #hitoshi shinso #all might #yagi toshinori #dadmight #gala #hospital #cursing #injuries #mentions of injuries

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buckleyydiaz · 3 years

Text

torn at the edges

pairing: tony dinozzo/timothy mcgee

length: 1.4k

description: fuck rule 6, tony decided, and fuck rule 12. they weren't worth it if they were hurting mcgee like that.

---

Tony fiddled with the corners of the envelope that sat, sealed on his desk. Despite his urge to read what was enclosed within the crisp white paper, the nagging dread held his fingers back from ripping it open, instead just leaving the very edges of the seal bent and nearly torn.

There was no questioning who it was from, or what it was regarding - Tony knew from the moment he first saw it atop a pile of unfinished paperwork, set aside the previous night in favour of prospective alternatives, which had, at the time, seemed far more joyous than slaving away at his desk till some god-only-knows hour of the morning. As such, the butterflies within his stomach - not butterflies though, of course, something much more manly, and strong, and more Anthony DiNozzo like - were not a result of some memory he tried to bury deep in the back of his brain being unearthed, instead it was simply what it seemed; Tony was just stuck with an asphyxiating fear of what the words within, surely having been typed on that goddamned typewriter, and what they had to say.

His usually decisive mind fretted about what he was to do, as the timer ticked down before Gibbs made his mind up for him, sick of Tony’s messy thoughts flowing through the whole office, creating a generally unpleasant and on-edge atmosphere. Taking one last look at the empty desk to the side of his own, he tore the seal of the envelope open, without any care or finesse, pulling the letter out as quickly as he could, his mind now past the question of whether or not to open it, only now curious about what was contained within.

Skimming his eyes over the words on the page, Tony found that as he had predicted, written - or rather typed - in the signature style of the man who should have been sitting to his right as of well over an hour ago, but instead had been overcome with what had been skeptically announced by the boss as the flu, with a very pointed look delivered straight to DiNozzo, a clue containing Gibbs’s usual lacking level of subtlety, telling him that even if the note did contain the plague as one of a similar staging had years ago, that was the least of his worries, in the case that he failed to fix his fuck up.

Shuddering at the reminder of that certain set of consequences, Tony simultaneously felt vicious waves of regret pulling him under as he read what was written. Honest words from a heartbroken man, he quickly identified, all too used to hearing words that shared a remarkable similarity, but not from his best friend -- just from women who had read into something never meant to mean anything.

What only worsened the remorse was the knowledge that it was his fault - Tony wasn’t any stranger to self-flagellation, but in this case, it was more deserved than the majority. Instead of pausing, taking a breath, even just spending one fucking moment thinking about what he should say, he had just let his mouth speak without a second thought, bullshit pouring out as easily as it ever had, words that meant nothing, despite the perfect opportunity to say everything that actually meant something.

Reading what Tim had to say only set his regrettable words on repeat, a bad movie that he couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard he tried to do that very thing. Fuck Rule 6, he declared to himself, and fuck Rule 12. They had failed him this time.

“I think that the Probie could do with some soup, since he’s so sick.” Tony announced, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair, looking to Gibbs, who nodded, a wordless response that he took as approval to up and leave, to do far more important things than complete the ever-piling paperwork.

---

The drive to McGee’s apartment happened almost without Tony’s awareness, his focus solely on his destination, and what - or rather who - he would find, rendering him oblivious to the brief journey. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel of his car, a symptom of his restless mind that simply would not settle until things were, for lack of a better word, settled, with McGee.

Once he parked, Tony couldn’t quite pull himself to get out of the car and speak to Tim. It was strange - he had always been a man of action, and previously, his conviction to fix what he had broken between them had seemed unbreakable - but in this case, it seemed daunting to do what was necessary. After a moment of letting his own nerves overwhelm him, Tony decided that the fact it was so intimidating was reason enough to do it. There was no way he was going to let a mere conversation get the better of him.

Setting aside his apprehension, Tony knocked on the door twice, waiting for a response from the man inside.

“I’m fine Abs, you don’t need to be here.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh, despite the situation that lay beyond the door that he was more than dreading. Although tempted to mock Tim’s mistake in identifying who he was, he figured that in this case, it probably was better not to, to choose not to be an asshole. The last thing he needed was another thing to apologise for.

“I think you’ll find that I’m not Abby, McGeek.”

Okay, so not entirely un-teasing, but better than he could have been. There was a moment of silence, which Tony assumed was Tim deciding whether he wanted to take a trip down the fire escape stairs to get away from the looming conversation, before heavy footsteps came towards the door, followed towards the clicking of the lock.

The door opened in front of him to his friend looking… worse for wear, certainly. While never as preoccupied as Tony with how he appeared, he was generally not a slob when dressing, going to some effort to look semi-presentable when he expected visitors, but that wasn’t remotely visible in his current outfit.

That wasn’t at all to say that Tony didn’t think Tim looked absolutely adorable in his worn old hoodie and sweatpants, with an expression that looked equal parts sad and pissed off, but entirely pathetic.

Yeah, Tony wasn’t remotely sure how he had almost let McGee slip through his fingers - actually, he knew exactly how, and it had everything to do with years of intimacy issues that probably stemmed from a neglectful childhood or something or other, but it was hardly the time and place to unpack all that - so he returned to his plan to remedy that.

“I got your letter, McWriter, and I-”

“Stop it, Tony,” He was cut off, McGee clearly not wanting to hear what he had to say (not that Tony blamed him at all for that). “I don’t need you to make fun of me any more. It was bad enough for me to tell you… that in the first place, and then the letter. Can we just leave it in the past and move on?”

Tony almost felt bad for shaking his head at Tim’s plea, clearly oblivious to what Tony had in fact come to say. He let the silence sit stagnant for a second, before attempting to make a casual confession.

“Y’know, Tim, I’ve had a thing for you from when you were so green that just looking at a dead body made you green in the face.”

It was as though the words took a few moments to enter McGee’s head, and then another couple to process, the whirring of a computer working overtime could just about be heard through the pin-drop silence. Even when the words did seem to make their way through McGee’s brain, he only tilted his head, as though puzzled by what Tony was sure were perfectly clear words.

He scrunched his face up, deep in thought, before Tony decided enough was enough, and it was time to put him out of his misery.

“I’m into you, Tim. I’m sorry for not saying this before, but given how little your brain seems to be processing right now, I’m sure you understand how I felt. How about we break rule 12 together.”

Tony watched, heavily amused, as McGee’s jaw fell slack and his eyes opened wide, before he began spluttering for words to say.

“You...what? Y- uh-”

After a moment, Tony figured it was only fair to put the poor guy out of his misery and took a step towards him, leaning in until their faces were only centimetres apart.

“Is this okay?” he asked a still speechless McGee, who only nodded, before Tony pulled him even closer.

#mcnozzo #tony dinozzo #timothy mcgee #mcgee #dinozzo #ncis #ncis fic #anthony dinozzo #tim mcgee #fanfic #ncis fanfiction

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blindingdutchy · 3 years

Text

lamentation | FOUR

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,907

warnings: angst, talk of death/tragedy, a little fluff

18+!!! minors stay away

At school the following week you were more than a little embarrassed. Peter Parker had seen you outside of school twice, and both times you'd been a crying, hysterical mess. Granted, you were a hysterical mess all the time anymore, but you usually kept that very well suppressed. Then along came Peter, and suddenly there was another person outside of your family who knew just how messed up you were.

He didn't mention it, which you were thankful for. You could see that he was concerned, though, with the way his eyes seemed to linger on you during every silence. His worry and pity only made you more resentful of the things you had shown him.

You'd shown up to school the morning after he showed up in your room, and you weren't at all surprised to see him lingering by your locker with an antsy jitter as he rocked back and forth on his feet. What had surprised you, though, was the fact that once he saw you were present he simply nodded at you and walked away. Was that his idea of a truce? An understanding?

Whatever it was, you had been thankful for it. The last thing you had wanted that morning was to talk to Peter, knowing he'd certainly want to talk about the events of the night, and you were relieved to get a little break from his constant presence. He still sat by you in classes, but he didn't pester with you his usual chatter, nor did he follow you to your locker even once.

The trend had continued for most of the week, and you had to admit you were starting to feel a little more isolated without his overbearing company. It was strange--you almost, emphasis on almost, missed him. You'd grown used to ignoring his borderline stalker-like tendencies, and now without him around to ignore, you felt lonely. Lonelier than you already had been, anyways.

At home, things were just as cold and distant. Your mother was in a slump again following your outburst at dinner, and you were beating yourself up over it endlessly. She'd been doing good, finally, and you'd just had to have gone and ruined all of her progress.

She'd been holed up in her bedroom ever since that evening. Not even your father was able to get her to let him in, and in turn he was banished to the sofa night after night. As such, you were feeling the ice from your mother and your father alike. You couldn't blame him, really, because the sofa was definitely not the most comfortable for sleeping.

It felt a little like your life was falling apart all over again since your birthday. The childish, bitter part of you wanted to blame Peter, because it would have been so easy to blame the only thing that had changed in your life, but you knew better. It was you. You were the cause for everything that was going wrong, and you didn't know how to stop it.

Why couldn't you just be better? The whole world was moving on, making progress, and yet you were stagnant. You didn't understand why you couldn't let go of all the heavy things holding you down, holding you back, but you just couldn't. Grieving her wasn't getting easier, and you didn't know how to try and make that change.

"Are you alright?"

Startled by the sudden return of Peter's voice, you jumped in your seat and blinked at him in surprise. It had been such a long week of near radio silence from him that you were shocked to be acknowledged by him, despite the fact that you'd been sitting beside him for the entirety of your Speech class. You'd almost started to wonder if maybe he was ignoring you, though you didn't exactly try to talk to him either.

Quietly, you mumbled, "Not really, but that's normal these days."

It was only then that you realized class was over, students packing up and filing out of the classroom eagerly in anticipation of the weekend. You'd been far more spaced out than you had thought--it felt like just moments ago you were sitting down and waiting for class to begin. You awkwardly began to pack up your untouched classwork and Peter did the same, neither of you quite sure what to say to the other.

Ever since she died, you had an uncanny ability to make any and every situation uncomfortable without really trying. It started with your inability to contain your emotions in response to the thousands of condolences you received over those first few days, and then the more you secluded yourself it only got worse. People looked at you strangely and whispered when they thought you couldn't hear them. They thought you were a ticking time bomb, and in a sense they were correct.

Maybe that was the reason you weren't quite as adamant about pushing Peter away as you were others. He didn't look at you that way, nor did he whisper hushed words about you that would surely make your ears burn when you overheard. Both times that he had seen you in a horrible state, he'd only looked at you with concern and worry. Not once had you seen him give you those all too familiar apprehensive stares, and you were grateful for it.

Realizing you were moving at a strangely slow pace, and Peter was anxiously waiting for you to finish, you cleared your throat and muttered, "Do you want to start the project tomorrow? Or tonight, if you're not busy."

"Um," Peter stammered, not bothering to hide his surprise at your offer, "sure. Tonight is fine if--if that's okay with you."

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither of you quite comfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere. Zipping your backpack, you stated, "Yeah, great."

"Great!" Peter echoed, and you both turned and hurried away from each other in discomfort.

When you told your father that Peter Parker was coming over that night you weren't entirely sure what to expect. The reaction you received, however was so far off your radar it scared you a little. He'd nearly wept with joy, kissing your cheek and saying he was proud of you for making friends again, to which you retorted Peter wasn't your friend.

He could tell it was a lie, despite the fact that under normal circumstances Peter definitely wouldn't have been considered a friend. For you, now and after everything you'd been through, he was the closest thing you had to a friend, though. So, you resisted the urge to fight your father on the premise and let him run off to boast to your mother about it.

Even if you felt like you weren't making progress, it couldn't hurt to let your parents think that you were. You were trying, anyways, so you didn't feel quite as guilty about letting them read too much into things. You just hoped that they didn't get their hopes up too high, because there was still time for you to mess things up like you always did.

You spent the afternoon cleaning your room and wallowing in your anxiety. The project was something you were dreading starting, mostly because you knew it would bring up all sorts of negative memories and emotions for you, but also because you feared what Peter would think of you. Would he judge you for your opinions? Would he think you were bitter and ridiculous?

For awhile you contemplated all the ways you could try and lie to appease him, thinking of ways to keep your composure well enough to debate on behalf of superheroes. In the end, though, you knew it was impossible. Arguing against the Avengers was going to be hard enough in itself, let alone trying to pretend you were in favor of them. Was it too late to ask for an alternate assignment?

Peter Parker: hey i'm on my way

Peter Parker: if that's okay. if you're busy that's fine too

It was definitely too late to ask for an alternate assignment, and as you typed out your response you decided it was time for you to finally start trying to do better. You'd wished for things to be easier, to be better, for so long, yet you'd never put in any of the work to make it happen. It was time for that to change. You were going to do the project, fight your stance to Peter, and try your best to not ruin his opinion of you completely in the process.

You: yeah that's fine

You: my mom says you can stay for dinner

You: if you want... if not that's cool you probably have other things to do

Okay, you were definitely biting off more than you could chew. Reading over your awkward texts to Peter made you cringe in a bad way, and you felt nauseous with embarrassment. It was so, so unbelievably hard trying to be approachable after you'd spent the past year pushing everyone away. The fear of him rejecting you was sending shockwaves through your entire body, tingling your skin all the way to the tips of your toes.

To your relief, Peter responded to let you know he was okay with staying for dinner, and informed you that he was on his way. You shot off a remark about using the door this time, and then promptly threw your phone away in shame. What if he thought you were being rude instead of joking? Or worse, what if he knew you were joking and thought it was stupid? Socializing was a real drain on your energy.

By the time Peter arrived with a timid knock on your bedroom door, followed by your mother's coo, "Oh, honey, just go on in. She's never doing anything," you had successfully stressed yourself into oblivion. You were so consumed by your thoughts you almost didn't notice her throwing open your door with a beaming grin, but the sound of Peter's uncomfortable laughter snapped you out of your daze.

"Uh, hi." you squeaked, suddenly extremely self conscious of your bedroom. He'd seen it before, obviously, but this time it was actually swathed in lamp light and the evening sun. "You can sit."

Peter stood in silence, studying your room with an indecipherable look on his face for a long moment. "It's nice in here." he finally stated, dropping his backpack and letting that easy grin slip across his lips for the first time in the past week. It was incredibly relieving to see it, and you even found yourself relaxing a little.

He sat on the edge of your bed and both of you turned to your mother curiously as she continued to stand in your doorway with a tearful smile. Jumping in shock, she gasped, "Oh, right, right. I'll just be downstairs if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Peter."

With one last lingering gaze, your mother backed out of the room and shut the door. That was how you knew this was a special occasion in her eyes--what sane mother would ever shut her teenage daughter in a bedroom with a teenage boy willingly? It had been a long while since you'd genuinely felt embarrassed, but you couldn't help but to groan and cover your face at the whole situation.

Peter, however, seemed thoroughly amused by everything. "Your mom is a lot like my Aunt May." he mused, twinkling brown eyes trailing over every inch of your room, "Your room is huge. I think I could fit my entire bedroom in here three times and still have extra space."

"I used to share it with my sister."

He paled at your statement and stuttered, "Oh, shit, I'm so--I'm so sorry. I didn't know--"

"Peter, it's fine." you interrupted his frantic apology, and for what felt like the first time ever, you meant it.

It was fine. You didn't feel angry or bitter about the reminder of her disappearance from your life, and it was strange to you. You liked it, though, and it felt nice to talk about her without being bogged down by thousands of horrible thoughts and feelings.

Relaxing only slightly at your reassurance, Peter looked at you wearily as if he expected you to start crying or lash out at him. To his, and your own, surprise you gave a small smile. That still felt wrong; it didn't come very naturally to you anymore, but Peter seemed mesmerized by it none the less.

The sight of your permanent frown disappearing from your face gave him the confidence to move on from the uncomfortable topic, it seemed, because he grinned back and moved to unzip his backpack. "Okay, so, first thing's first--have you read the outline for the project? It's ridiculously broad and I've been struggling to think of any ideas to make our speech unique." he rambled, rifling through the crumpled mess of papers he retrieved from his bag until he finally found what he was looking for.

You slid your smooth, unwrinkled copy across the bed and asked, "Shouldn't we start with which stance we're taking?"

Peter blinked at you, and you tensed in preparation for the argument that was about to ensue. "What do you mean? I thought it was just a given that we were arguing in favor of the Avengers?" he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "I mean, I'm pretty sure everyone is going to."

"I wanted to argue in opposition, actually." you muttered, pursing your lips. "That could be what makes ours stand out, you know?"

His lips opened and closed like a fish for a few moments as he clearly struggled to formulate words, but eventually he sputtered, "Is that the only reason why? I don't know if I can argue against myself, considering I kind of am an Avenger."

You chewed at the inside of your cheek, already wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Letting Peter into your space, into your life, was already hard enough--adding conflict into the mix only made your heart rate pick up and your hands start to sweat. "I don't agree with the Avengers, no, but I have reasons. So, maybe you feel weird arguing against yourself, but I feel just as weird arguing in favor of something I don't agree with." you finally explained, and Peter's eyes widened incredulously.

"Why don't you like the Avengers?"

You nearly scoffed at the way he posed the question, as if he were asking you why you weren't a fan of a specific sports team. "I don't agree with them, there's a difference." you stated bluntly.

Peter wiped his palms on his jeans tensely, just as you did the same, and repeated, "Why, though? What's not to agree with? They--they've saved the world over and over again, isn't that impossible to not agree with?"

"At what cost, though?" you retorted, "Have you paid any mind to all the things they've destroyed? How many lives they've ended, or destroyed, in the midst of their heroic deeds?"

He seemed to get riled up by the bitter way you spat out the word heroic and scoffed, "Okay, but that doesn't just happen with the Avengers. The police do all of that and more on a much more frequent basis."

You raised your eyebrows challengingly, though you had to admit it was a fair counter argument. Clicking your tongue, you rebutted, "That's true, but at least sometimes there are consequences for that! With people like the Avengers there are no consequences. There's no justice, no opposition, nothing! They can do whatever they want, whenever they want, no matter who gets hurt in the process."

Peter stood from your bed abruptly, raking a hand through his hair and pacing around your room with red cheeks. You could tell very well that he was trying to control his temper, though he was about as intimidating as a mouse, and you took deep breathes yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was to make him angry with you, but you weren't willing to back down about how you felt.

Inhaling slowly, he turned to you once again and said, "There are consequences. Don't you remember the Sokovia Accords? That whole fiasco was because of people who felt like you do."

The Sokovia Accords were a sham in your eyes. You remembered well when they had come about, and it seemed that they had changed nothing. For awhile most of the Avengers had gone off the grid, choosing to be international fugitives rather than sign, until the world needed them again. When Thanos had tried to wipe out half of all life in the universe they'd all come out of the woodwork again to save the day, and afterward it seemed as if all was forgotten.

There was no punishment for Captain America, Black Widow, none of them. They stopped another world ending event, causing plenty of damage in the process, and in turn were regarded as godly heroes once again. You sometimes wondered if the Accords were even a thing anymore.

"They felt that way for good reason!" you snapped before clearing your throat and trying to calm down again, "The Avengers have caused just as much devastation as they've prevented, maybe even more."

Peter jumped at your loud tone and snapped back, "What would you even know about it? I see it first hand every time, remember, so I know what happens! What do you know?"

"They killed my sister, did you know that?" you shouted, and he froze in place with wide eyes and parted lips, "Yeah, you know what happens, right? Well then you should know that I know damn well the damage the Avengers can do."

He sat back down on your bed wordlessly, watching you hesitantly as you tugged at a loose thread on your blanket anxiously. "I didn't know that, (Y/N)," he sighed, "I'm really sorry."

You didn't say anything for a long while, not trusting your voice to come out steady as you tried to hold back tears and also keep your temper in line. Talking about your sister's death wasn't something you really did, mostly because you knew it would cause you to break down. It hurt too much to think of it, let alone speak the words out loud.

But, as Peter continued to watch you as if expecting you to explode, you tried your best, "It was my fault. If it weren't for me we wouldn't have been at the park, and she--and she wouldn't have had to wait for me."

Peter reached out and gripped your hand firmly in his, causing you to momentarily short circuit in shock. You internally battled the conflicting urges to pull away or cling to him, but eventually you relaxed into the contact. Gently grasping his hand back, you let out a shaky breathe you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

It was grounding having his hand in yours. You didn't feel like you were at risk of drifting away into the void like you usually did; with his hand touching you, it felt as if you had a secure connection to the world again. It was a feeling you never wanted to lose again.

"It wasn't your fault, (Y/N)," he soothed, but you shook your head stubbornly.

Your eyes burned as you continued, "It was! She wanted to go shopping but I begged her to come to the park with me instead. I wanted to take some photos, and she'd argued with me for so long until she finally caved. A little bit after we got there we heard this really loud explosion, and I just--I just froze, and I..."

The words seemed to lodge in your throat, and your voice came out hoarse as you forced them out, "I froze staring up at Iron Man blasting some alien through the air, so stupidly shocked I didn't notice the building collapsing until she pushed me out of the way. I tried to grab her, but it was too late! A bunch of bricks hit her and--"

"Hey, hey, you don't have to tell me." Peter hushed you, gripping your hand tighter and scooting so close to you that his leg was pressed up against yours. Somehow the increased contact and warmth caused you to break, and suddenly you were crying in front of Peter Parker for the third time. You were three for three on crying in his presence, a thought that made you cry harder in embarrassment.

He didn't seem to care at all, though, as he took you by surprise and hugged you. "He just flew right by us. He didn't even stop when I screamed for help." you croaked, clutching Peter's shirt tightly in your fists as he held you, "I hate them. I hate them so much because it should be their fault, but I just keep blaming myself!"

You really hoped your mother wasn't eavesdropping, because she'd surely have wanted to talk to you about everything later. In all the time that had passed since your sister's death, you hadn't once retold the events of that day. You'd never spoken a single word about it, not even to the police who questioned you following the incident.

No matter how hard your parents had urged you to talk about it, or your therapist, you hadn't ever budged. It was your burden to bear, and you had never felt the desire or the strength to impart that load unto anyone else. Peter somehow broke down all of your walls without even trying, though, and it felt like a breathe of fresh air to finally get it all off of your chest.

There was no explanation for why he seemed to get you to do all the things you swore you never would without a word. It made no sense at all, and it scared you a lot, but you liked it. You craved the connection he gave you. Already, after such a short amount of time, you needed it. It would surely have crushed you if he decided not to care.

As your crying slowly subsided, Peter rubbed your back timidly and comforted, "It wasn't your fault, (Y/N), I mean it. It was just a freak thing, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it--sometimes bad things just happen, and they're inevitable."

"But, if I had just--"

He cut you off, "No, no buts. It wasn't your fault and you couldn't have prevented it. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, okay? It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't your fault either."

You wanted to ask him how he could possibly know what you felt, or what he meant by saying it wasn't his fault, but it wasn't the right time. Pulling away and wiping your eyes, you sniffled, "I really need to stop crying in front of you. You're like an onion, you know? I just can't stop crying when you're around me."

Peter laughed loudly at your weak joke, and you couldn't fight back the quiet giggle the escaped your lips too. You hadn't laughed, genuinely laughed, in so long. "I like your laugh," he breathed, and your stomach erupted in the strangest fluttery sensation, "I like it a lot. You should never stop laughing."

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

Text

Hellblazer 2.5 | jjk

Genre: demon!au Pairing: demon!Jungkook x FemConstantine!reader Word Count: 2.6k Rating: PG Summary: Now that the true identity of the new Prince of Hell has been revealed to you, you are left back on Earth, wandering aimlessly through life hungry for another taste of him while being repulsed by his memory. You find your health failing and in one last attempt for help, you drag yourself to the Vatican only to find yourself falling deeper into the darkness surrounding you. Ever so slowly, you’re slipping towards a death you didn’t think would come so soon. Author’s Note: I hope you guys still find this interesting. I guess this can be seen as “filler” to progress their relationship, but I find it really starts to expose true feelings here. More to come!

Sluggish. Languorous. Torpid. Stagnant. Those four words and more were how you would describe your life right now. It had been three months since your last encounter with him. You had woken up in your bed just as before; sore and almost lifeless. Before, he haunted your dreams. Now, he was all you wanted and your worst nightmare. You felt pushed and pulled in two directions.

Lost.

Utterly lost.

You were seeing him more and more, standing under the massive altar in the Basilica, sitting at the same table at the coffee shop, just around the corner in the bookstore, and basking in the sun at Trevi Fountain. The few people you knew, because you didn’t have any friends, were noticing your declining health. You became withdrawn and idle. Just living each day, sometimes eating, getting out of bed when needed, and spending less time outdoors as the months rolled on.

Even the Pope came to see you, worried about your health. At first, you felt good knowing someone cared but then you reminded yourself he only liked you for information. His visit didn’t go quite as he had planned when the thought dawned on you and you cursed at him, demanding he get the fuck out of your house.

You had never planned on staying in Rome this long. Yes, it was the hub of your line of work, but you didn’t want to be here, yet you felt tied. You felt as if you left then you’d never see him again, but then again, you didn’t want to see him. Not really.

You were starving, but not for food. If you had a soul it would probably yearn. This was a different kind of pain; something deeply rooted into your heart. Your body was lacking something, and you weren’t sure what.

When you were ready to throw yourself off the nearest cliff, you trudged reluctantly in the direction of the Vatican. Your limbs felt like they were filled with sand. People gave you strange looks as they passed. You knew you hadn’t brushed your hair in a hot second nor had you really been concerned about your personal well-being either. The closer you got, the worse you felt. You found yourself stopping and leaning against a wall more than once trying to catch your breath. It felt as if you had been running when you could barely walk. By the time you got to the Vatican Obelisk, you were stumbling, struggling to stay upright. A Swiss guard recognized you despite your unkempt appearance and rushed over immediately, calling out for assistance.

The bright summer sun, a flash of pink, and what you had thought was him were the last things you saw before you succumbed to that falling feeling. Peace. Finally, you were able to rest.

When you awoke again, your limbs were just as heavy if not heavier. You heard the faint beep of a machine and the whir of air conditioning, but beyond that was silent. Your eyelids felt as if they had weights on them as you struggled to open them. Finally, you were able to peer into the semi-darkness. Blinking a few times, you slowly scanned the room. It was very nicely decorated, with a fireplace, and your guess was confirmed when you saw the framed picture of the Virgin Mary. An IV stand was next to you and you followed the tube of fluids to your arm. Wiggling your fingers a little, you made sure you weren’t paralyzed for some reason. As if by divine intervention, a nurse came scooting in backwards with a cart. You watched as she blissfully hummed and then turned towards you, jumping back in surprise as you looked at her.

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, holding her hand over her heart. She moved closer to the bed, first looking at the machines, and then back at you. “Hey, are you okay?”

You nodded. Your throat was so dry you didn’t think you’d be able to say anything.

“Let me get you some water!”

She turned away again and to a pitcher that was sitting on a table, filled a glass of water, and made her way back to you. She held the glass to your lips as she held a cloth under your chin. You drank gratefully and sighed as the cool water soothed your throat.

“What happened?” you finally asked once you were able to speak properly.

“The guards saw you stumbling around outside. You collapsed right in a crowd of people!” She threw her hands up excitedly as she recounted the story to you. The Pope had insisted you stay in the ”house of the Lord” in case what was happening to you was “demonic” in nature.

He knew better.

“How long?”

“Oh, let’s see,” she paused. “About a week and a few days now.”

No wonder you felt as if your muscles hadn’t been used in a million years. You still felt just as bad, if not worse than before. Before you knew it, you were slipping slowly. You wanted to stay awake, you feared falling asleep again, but your body was giving up. Slowly, darkness overtook you.

When you awoke again, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You half expected a paralysis demon to be perched atop you when you were finally able to open your eyes.

The room you were in was the same, but this time there were more machines. You looked down to see that your hair had grown a considerable amount. Panic washed through your body and you heard the rapid beat of the machine as your heart sped. A small alarm sounded as your blood pressure rose. You were being thrown headlong into a full blown panic attack. The same nurse as before came rushing into the room and was at your side, checking the readout on the machine, and then reached into a small refrigerator for a glass bottle. She pulled the cap off a syringe, pulled the liquid into it, and then pushed it into your IV line. Your body immediately relaxed. She held her hand on your forehead as she grabbed her stethoscope. After she determined that you were okay, she laid a hand over yours.

“He wants to talk to you. I’ll be right back.”

What? You had just woken up after god knows how long and she’s worried about someone wanting to talk to you? You were so thirsty.

The Pope came rushing through the door, dressed casually, and looking both distressed and surprised.

“____!” he exclaimed as he rushed to your bedside. “It’s been months.”

Months? Surely…not?

He turned his head to where you couldn’t see his face, but you saw the look of surprise on the nurse’s face as she nodded and then left the room. He turned back to you; concern written in his features.

“____,” he began again, as he pulled a chair to your bedside. “When did you meet him?”

Your brows knitted. You had already told him when you met the new Prince of Hell.

“The Archangel. God’s general.”

Your blood ran cold. How did he know?

“You have the sigil,” he said reaching out just a little, “behind your ear.”

For fuck’s sake. You were getting peed on by everybody in Hell. You wet your lips a little. Or tried to. Realizing that your mouth was probably dryer dirt, he grabbed the pitcher. Funny, one of your last memories was almost this exact same situation months ago. Once again, you were fumbling with your voice, having not used it for some time. He sat patiently as your mouth moved robotically. You were frustrated that you couldn’t just spit it out and you felt helpless as you lay there with your overly heavy limbs.

“He fell,” you finally croaked.

“What?” He didn’t believe you.

“The demons. In Rome.”

You saw him piecing things together with your minimal words. He had warned you that things were happening in Rome.

“You mean…,” he trailed off in disbelief.

“War.”

It wasn’t a secret that there was a war in Heaven before when Lucifer fell. You had met a few demons that fell with him, recounting the day in vivid detail to you. Now there was going to be another one. God’s greatest ally had betrayed him.

“But then…” He glanced towards the spot behind your ear. “Those are meant for protection.”

You half shrugged. You weren’t about to admit to him what had happened…twice.

“Get your rest, _____.” He patted the back of your hand, stood, and left from the room without so much as a backwards glance.

The Pope stood before the statue of the Archangel taking down Lucifer with his golden spear. His heart was tight in his chest as he prayed.

“Dear God,” he was at a loss for words as he gazed above him. His voice echoed in the cavernous expanse.

A low, menacing laugh filled the space as soon as his voice died out. The darkness suppressed around him and fear filled his heart. He clutched to the rosary in his hand as he turned around. The laugh seemed to be coming from every direction, bouncing off the walls, and doubling back in on itself. This type of darkness was one that he felt deep inside of him.

“There’s no point in that,” he heard whispered amongst the laughs that were slowly dying out.

Out of the darkness and through the pews of one of the service areas walked a man, dressed darkly, and even darker than the murkiness around him. The candles that had been lit on the altar went out one by one. A heat filled the basilica that had him sweating under his night robes. A smell so pungent that he recoiled filled his nose and it was soon replaced by the sickly sweet smell of roses.

He emerged into the dimly lit expanse of the area before the main altar and he was able to see his glowing eyes and pale skin contrasting against his black suit. His hands were clasped behind him as he walked slowly. His footsteps didn’t make a sound. His smile was malevolent. As he approached closer and closer, he began to faintly smell burnt wood. By the time he was within feet of him, it was as if someone had snuffed out the fire in a fireplace. The smoky smell filled the area and assaulted his senses. A usually comforting scent was now going to be reminiscent of this new fear he felt.

“Where is she?” he asked, leaning in close.

He saw the sigil on his lapel as it caught the light.

“A-are you…?” he stammered.

“You know exactly who I am. Now, answer my question, Your Holiness.”

He stared into his dark eyes and saw nothing there. Only emptiness.

“I’m not giving her to you.” He held onto his rosary tighter as he willed himself to be brave in the face of evil.

His smile spread, but then suddenly turned down at the corners. He could see where he was once beautiful, but now he was beautiful in a terrible way.

“If you want her to live, you will.”

He was shaking as he held out the hand that clutched the rosary. The Prince looked down at it in disgust before speaking again.

“Your trinkets won’t do anything to me.”

“Why do you want her?”

“She belongs to me.”

“Your sigil is meant to protect. What are you doing to her?”

He sighed as he brought his hands in front of him, intertwining his fingers and holding them to his lips. The Pope saw the tattoos that you had mentioned, and it further confirmed his fears.

“The real question is, what are you doing to her?”

He suddenly became defensive in the face of the Prince.

“I have been protecting her and keeping her alive for these last few months.”

“Have you, though?”

“Quit talking in circles, demon!” He was red faced now, utterly angry. He was angry that a Prince of Hell was here on hallowed ground and he was angry that he seemed to think he had some claim over you.

“This space you feel like you’ve created for her to heal is killing her,” he said simply.

You had no soul. Heaven couldn’t protect you and now that it was weaker, they would be no closer to doing so.

“The sigil…”

“She’s dying on holy ground. If I take her, she won’t.”

The Pope was torn. What he said made sense, but what if he were lying? He had no reason to tell the truth. But why would he want you?

He slowly removed the brooch from his lapel and suspended it in the air between them, but the Pope refused to reach out and take it.

“I promise you protection. On my word.”

“I don’t make deals with devils,” he said snidely.

“It’s in your best interest to do that now. There’s going to be a war soon and Earth will suffer just as many consequences. You’ll want to find yourself on the right side.”

The Pope walked briskly down the carpeted hallway with the Prince walking closely behind. None of the guards were around as they turned corners and he knew it was his doing. When they reached the door to your room, he looked back at him tentatively. He seemed eager for him to open the door. He pushed it open, stepping inside, and to the side. He watched closely as he crossed the room and to your bedside. You were asleep, laid back amongst the pillows, and looking as frail and drawn as ever.

“How could you let this go on for this long?” he asked as he undid the IV at your arm.

The Pope was frozen to the spot as he watched him quickly detach you from any and all machines, alarms going off left and right. The nurse came running down the hall in her robe. He held out his arm in front of her as she crossed the threshold and froze to watch the scene in front of her.

He was lifting you from the bed gingerly. You had lost so much weight that you were very easy to carry. He turned with you in his arms, curled against his chest, and the Pope saw a shadow of who he once was. His expression was soft, yet worried, giving him a glance at the Archangel he used to pray to.

“You have my protection,” he said before seeming to disappear into thin air. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving the Pope and nurse dumbfounded.

The next time you awoke, you felt lighter. Your breathing came easier and your mouth didn’t feel as if it were on fire. The pain in your head was starting to subside and overall, you felt as if you might survive whatever was wrong with you. You moved your fingers over the sheets beneath you and felt an all too familiar silkiness. Your heart raced with both fear and some unfound excitement. Slowly, you opened your eyes and you were met with the same grey stillness of the bedroom that haunted your dreams. You were afraid to move but you desperately needed to see if you imagined the presence behind you. You quietly and gently as possible turned your head.

He looked so peaceful.

Fast asleep, mouth slightly agape, he laid beside you, hand rested on the pillow. He had saved your life, but that was only because he had marked you. You hadn’t asked for this, but you were starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was what you wanted all along.

#bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #demon!au #demon!jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #femconstantine!reader #constantine!au #constantine x bts crossover #bts #hellblazer #hellblazer 2.5 #nonidol!au

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standbi-ghost · 3 years

Text

Guess I’ll Just kms

Words: 1812

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicide (technically), suicidal thoughts, panic attack

Go say hi on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387829

In order to go ghost, Danny has to kill himself. It isn’t that bad really, but when his mom finds a journal where he keeps track of the best ways to kill himself (which sounds sketch in and of itself) and thinks he’s suicidal, he has an important decision to make.

It was a grounding feeling; the cold touch of a knife pressed to his throat. What once would’ve frightened him to no end, was now becoming something of a constant in his otherwise chaotic life. He let the knife find its keep and in seconds, his Jugular vein was sliced.

As he let the all too familiar feeling of his ghostly transformation happen, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the ghastliness of his situation. Was this technically suicide? No, probably not, it’s not like he was actually dying, just, playing dead. Lots of animals do it in self-defense and this wasn’t that far off. Plus, Danny knew he didn’t want to die, or in his case, cease to exist, right?

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he turned to see Skulker already in a fighting stance. He sighed and shot into the sky ready for the chase to begin.

At the cursed hour of 4 in the morning, Danny found himself sneaking into his own room. He flopped onto his mattress and let out a long, well-deserved mind you, groan.

He felt like he’d been run over by a car which was probably because that’s exactly what happened. Hey, to be fair, he had also been invisible. How was the poor driver supposed to know Danny was stupidly floating in the middle of the road? The driver was fine too, a little shaken up but he managed to phase him out of his car before any damage was done to him.

He lazily snaked his arm into his abandoned backpack and pulled out a dying black notebook barely holding itself together by a thread. There were rips, tears, and folds everywhere and a suspicious amount of green and brown stains were spattered throughout the pages. He liked to joke that it was his own personal Death Note except the only one doing any dying was him. It had started out as a way to record which death methods were quick and easiest, which were dramatic but efficient, which shouldn’t be tried again, but it had developed into a coping mechanism of sorts, some kind of morbid diary filled with a mixture rants and execution plans. He flipped to the next clean page and began to write his death-of-the-day and the events that followed.

A sinking calm settled into his core as he continued to rant about missing yet another test because of Skulker. He was halfway done with the entry when his eyes began to flutter closed, no longer being able to fight his body’s plea for rest.

He didn’t hear the soft creak of his door open, didn’t see the hand reach out and take his notebook, didn’t feel that same hand run itself through his hair, giving way for a pair of lips to kiss his forehead.

When his alarm went off at the usual 6 am it always did, he didn’t notice the suffocating stagnant air in the room, just stretched out his sore limbs, rubbed his eyes awake, and went on with his usual morning routine.

As he made his way downstairs, Danny made sure to annoyingly, as any younger sibling should, yell at his sister.

“Jazz I swear to the Ancients that if you try and leave without me again, I will piss your pants, you know I can’t be late again, Mr. Lancer-”

His voice trailed off when he took in the sight of his parents before him.

His dad was avoiding direct eye contact in the most obvious manner. His mom was wearing a watery smile, most likely trying to mask whatever had both his parents so tense. For a second, he panicked. Had they figured it out? What was it? Was it the mannerism, the eyes, the hair?

“Danny?”

He looked up from his panicked haze and saw concern plastered on both his parents’ faces. It looked wrong.

“Uh- where’s Jazz?” he asked, looking around in a last-ditch effort to crawl out from under their crushing gaze.

“Jazz left for school early today, something about a meeting with one of the counselors” his dad quietly responded, almost like he was tiptoeing around Danny, which set off all kinds of red flags.

For one it was hard to forget his dad could even be that subdued, the man practically radiated excitement. He also seemed, tired. Not the kind of tired you get after working at a lab all day, no, this was a soul-crushing tired, one that reflected inner turmoil. He looked away to catch his mom’s gaze only to look Danny in the eyes again, a forced smile finding its way on his face.

“Danny boy, we just wanted to talk to you about some- about how you’re doing.”

“I- uh, don’t know what you mean dad” he stuttered out.

“You’ve just been really closed off lately and, as your parents, we worry Danny.”

He turned his wide eyes towards his mother. Had he heard her right? They worried? Had he been worrying his parents? Was he a distraction? He was already indirectly messing with their inventions but now he was distracting them too. What kind of son-

“I’m fine. I mean, school’s been, uh- something, but I’ve been dealing- “

“Danny, are you suicidal?”

It came out as a whisper, but it echoed loudly in his head.

All he could do was stare, mouth agape, desperately trying to form words in his favor.

Heavy wasn’t the right word to describe the air in the room. Suffocating came closer. How was he even supposed to respond to that? If he told his parents the truth, they would hate him for keeping it a secret for so long. For lying to them, manipulating them, making a fool out of them. They would do much worse than dissect him, they would no longer see him as their son and that cut deeper than any scalpel could. On the other hand, if he lied and told them he was suicidal, they would ship him off to a loony bin. They would stuff him with pills and strip his mind away from him leaving him an empty husk of a person. And would it even be a lie? How many times had the thought crossed his mind? How many times had he begged for death at the end of an alleyway, at the bottom of a ditch, passed out at the foot of his bed, only to get up, dust off, and continue to live- no- to exist as a drone.

His breath began to pick up- could he even call it a breath? He knew if he didn’t say something, anything, his parents would come up with their own answer. What was the question again? Why couldn’t he think straight? He would lose any and all control he may have had. Was he in control? Why couldn’t he control his own body? His own mind? His thoughts were racing, and he was dragging behind them. Why was everything moving so fast? Why couldn’t he catch a break for once? He felt like a cornered animal, quite literally too. A feral growl crawled out of his throat as he backed himself into a wall, attempting to make himself look less pathetic. Attempting to make himself look like a threat. Maybe then they’ll go away. Maybe then he would stop hurting so much.

Don’t let them know you’re weak.

They’ll hurt you.

They won’t understand.

They’ll never love you.

How could they love you?

You-

“Danny”

And just like that, the fog dispersed and he was left stranded in the empty halls of his mind. He felt the cold wall behind him taunting him with its cold embrace.

“Danny it’s okay, you’re okay, breathe”

That was his mom’s voice. He felt the adrenaline seep out of him, embarrassment taking its place. That was all the confirmation they needed. He was fucked. No matter what they thought of him before, nothing could erase the scene he had just caused. Ancients he was fucked. What even was that? What normal person freaks out over a simple question?

He groaned as he let his face fall into the palm of his hands. He felt a wave of shame wash over him as his mom took him in her arms.

For a moment everything was back to normal. There was still tension in the air, but it all melted in the warm embrace of his mom.

“I found your notebook last night.”

And with that, it all made sense. He flinched out of her embrace and felt shame at seeing the hurt on her face the action caused. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his chapped lips. Of course, the one escape he had was what had exposed him. It was naïve of him to think that no one would find the notebook he practically carried everywhere. Sooner or later this had been bound to happen, he just hoped it would be later. He had been careless and now he was paying for it.

“I guess I should come clean huh?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, terrified, but he couldn’t shake the possibility that maybe, maybe, his parents would support him, be there for him. The very thought left a warm feeling in him.

“It started a few weeks before Freshman year...”

And so, he let the dam break. 3 years filled with pain and fear poured out in a flurry of words. He found that, once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t help but flinch as his dad reached out and took his small hands in his. He looked him dead in the eyes, searching for confirmation, that this was okay, and when Danny nodded, he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his mom following closely behind.

“Oh Danny, how could you not tell us?” his dad asked.

“We’re sorry for making you feel anything but loved and accepted. There is nothing you could do or become that could get rid of our love for you.”

So that’s how he found himself skipping school, in a cuddle pile with his parents, binge-watching Star Wars, Marvel movies, and the occasional Space Documentary.

And when Jazz got home after school that evening, she didn’t question the sight of her parents holding on to Danny for dear life in the middle of their living room, caught in a pile of pillows, blankets, and love, acceptance. She just smiled, shook her head, and made her way up the stairs.

She would have a talk with her brother about his mental health another time. Right now, she knew, everything would be okay.

“oh uh, you guys should probably stay far away from the red bulls in my room.”

“Wha- “

“I may or may not have filled them with arsenic...”

“Daniel James Fenton”

“It's death on the go!”

Everything would be okay.

#yall want angst?#angst #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #danny phantom au #alternate universe #fentons #maddie fenton #jack fenton #jazz fenton #fanfiction #suicide?#not really #panic attack #identity reveal #family fluff #angst with a happy ending

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sapphicwhump · 3 years

Text

Deception of Luna

Fandoms: Destiny, Destiny 2 Tropes: F/M, trauma recovery, heavy angst, light fluff, creepy whumper, cosmic horror elements, whumpee/caretaker intimacy TWs: flashback, explicit noncon, implied death of loved ones, implied misogyny

Read on AO3

Lich-5 considers herself to be quite lucky. At least with her assignments on Luna; not so much with her loot. She speeds across the lunar surface on her Sparrow towards Archer’s Line, having just received a bounty to clear out the Fallen there. There are three of the usual crimson phantoms en route this time; each one cowers and screams in terror as her Sparrow plows by. To her, these nightmares are just nameless red silhouettes that occasionally make creepy noises; none of them are the slightest bit recognizable. The larger ones, the ones that appear as long-dead enemies rather than Guardians, have names she can recognize from her historical studies, but nothing more than that. Despite her own experience, Lich knows that most of her fellows don’t see them that way.

The Pyramid of Luna is a nasty piece of work, to say the least. She would call it sadistic, but it would be improper of her to anthropomorphize such an alien being. The nightmares it spawns are drawn directly from the Guardians’ most painful losses; vanquished nemeses, outlived mentors, lost loves, and a myriad of others now walk again on Luna. In every case, their passing had left wounds on the people they left behind, and now the Pyramid has made those wounds fresh again.

The worst part, Lich thinks, is that doing so offers it no tactical advantage. The Pyramid doesn’t need to crush Guardians’ morale; it could crush them all very literally if it so chose. This thing’s kind had caused the Great Collapse of humanity’s golden age; surely the Last City of today would be no trouble for it to exterminate. The only thing keeping them all alive is this Pyramid’s continued desire to bide its time. And in that time, it’s chosen to reopen their old wounds because it’s fun.

The reason Lich-5 considers herself lucky is because she doesn’t have many wounds that can be reopened. She'd been resurrected just after the Red War, into a world struggling to recuperate, to make some amount of sense out of the tremendous loss. Her roommate Windy isn’t a particularly old Guardian by any means, only a few years her senior, but that still puts his resurrection date solidly before the War. She doesn’t pry him about it, but she’s aware that the majority of people he knew had been permanently Returned To Light by the forces of Dominus Ghaul. Windy avoids assignments on Luna like the plague, as do many of her elder acquaintances. She’s met Guardians who were resurrected in the Dark Age, now hundreds of years old, who have pushed on through every defeat humanity has ever faced since the Collapse. Lich herself recently turned three.

Will she live to be hundreds of years old? If she does, how much will she lose in that time?

She’s coming up on Archer’s Line now. There’s already some Guardian activity here; in the distance, she can pick out the dull gray bulk of a male Titan’s armor against the background of lunar dust. Ignoring his presence, she drives into the old K1 Logistics facility and gets to work.

Clearing the facility takes under ten minutes. She emerges from the front entrance with her armored Warlock’s robe dotted with scuffs and splattered with Fallen Ether. Her bounty objectives aren’t quite complete yet; there are still a few Fallen skittering around the Lunar surface that’ll have to be dealt with. She’d think that life-or-death combat would be too stressful to become boring, but when that death isn’t much more than a temporary (if painful) setback, the repetitiveness of it can get a bit dull.

Just gotta get it done, then I can relax. The rewards from these last few bounties should be just enough to afford that fancy new armor set she’s been working towards, and then she won’t have much to do until the next big crisis inevitably hits the Sol system. She’s already thinking of a few new science projects she could start work on during her extended down time; monotonous work like this does little to satiate her burning curiosity.

The Titan she saw earlier seems to be approaching the K1 facility now. He’s welcome to loot the place if he wants; she only went in to get her bounties done. It’s nice to see another Guardian out here; the presence of an ally makes her feel slightly less alone in this gray hellscape, even if they don’t interact.

The boxy silhouette of his armor strikes her as oddly familiar. It’s possible that she’s seen him somewhere else before; there aren’t an unlimited number of Guardians in Sol, and Lich has met quite a lot of them.

Wait a minute—

Recognition shoots through her neural network like arc lightning. Instantly, her every piston is tense, all sensors on high alert. It’s him. Why does he have to be here?

She takes it back. Having another Guardian here isn’t nice at all, not when it’s him in particular . Lich quickly ducks back into the empty facility, taking cover from the imminent danger behind one of the large storage containers strewn about. She needs to be in a place where he isn’t in her line of sight.

Maybe she isn’t so lucky. Of course the phantoms wouldn’t reopen old wounds, only for another Guardian to do it instead. Taking stock of her emotional state, she abruptly realizes how much she’s shaking. She forcibly steels herself, struggling to regain her composure while cursing her own weakness. Simply seeing a Titan, even if it’s him, should not frighten her to the point where she’s struggling to even function.

Lich is ashamed to admit to herself how much sway he still holds over her mental state. His existence is a disgusting muck polluting the back of her mind; just being reminded of him feels like wading through a stagnant pit of human sewage, from which she can never truly escape because it’s in her head. Thinking about it more only makes it worse, causes her to sink deeper. She can forget him, at least temporarily, but then eventually something random always jogs her memory and she'll be back, trapped again in that pit of sewage.

She considers abandoning her objectives and transmatting back to her jumpship, still safely parked at the landing zone. But it’s this part of Luna that needs to be cleared of Fallen, and that fancy new armor set won’t be on sale forever, and she really shouldn’t be so pathetically weak to let this get to her. No, she’ll stay, to earn her extended down time if nothing else. She just needs to calm down and wait here until he—

“Oh hey, Lich. Long time no see.”

If Lich had a heart, it would have stopped beating at that exact second. His voice, just his fucking voice, almost throws her back there all by itself. He’s so insufferably casual with his greeting, like she’s just any other acquaintance to him.

“Hey. You mind leaving me alone?”

“Woah, relax. I’m just finishing up these bounties.” Condescension drips off of his words like spoiled milk.

“Yeah, well, please stay away from me while you do that.”

His tone sours, sounding almost disappointed. “Well you’re being awfully frigid.”

“Of course I fucking am!” Lich fumes, rage momentarily cutting through her fear. “What did you expect, that I’d be nice to you!?”

The Titan pauses. “Well… yeah, kinda. I at least didn’t expect to be jilted like this.”

For a brief moment, Lich sees red. Her trembling has elevated to a truly intolerable level, and she’s currently about five seconds away from drawing her Dawnblade on this man. She knows that getting violent with him would almost certainly end poorly for her, though. With great effort, she puts together a facade of something resembling calmness.

“Look… I think I’ve got a pretty good reason for not wanting to see you. Please leave, and never try to interact with me again. I know I’m never gonna get justice, so I just want to move past this and get back as close to normal as possible. You’re making it rather difficult to do that right now.”

“Justice?" He cocks his helmet to the side in what looks like disbelief. As if he has any right to act surprised by any of this. She can practically feel him rolling his eyes at her underneath his blank faceplate, and it makes her synthetic stomach turn. “Fine, fine. If you wanna be like that, it’s not my problem.”

He proceeds deeper into the K1 halls, finally giving Lich a reprieve from his vile presence. She turns to leave in the opposite direction, but stops short when she catches the Titan muttering a final insult under his breath.

“Fuckin’ melodramatic bitch.”

She whirls on him. “Fuck you, asshole!” she spits over her shoulder, still heading for the facility’s exit. “If I ever see you again, it’ll be too soon!”

The Titan is mercifully quiet. Lich is almost at the door; just a few more Fallen slain, and she’ll be able to go home and do her best to forget that she ever saw him again.

“No, fuck you.”

Lich barely registers the Titan’s words in her audio receptors, and she doesn’t notice the suppressor grenade roll between her legs until it’s too late.

————————————

Windy’s day has been restful, to say the least. He lays sprawled out on the couch of his and Lich’s shared apartment, his usual combat armor doffed in favor of boxers and a tank top, lackadaisically swiping through the datapad in his hand. On one tab is the sidearm section of Omolon’s digital storefront; on another is a gallery of images displaying a nude Awoken. He lifts his can of alcoholic liquid from the coffee table and pours the last of it down his throat, sighing in satisfaction. It’s kinda nice to stay home for once while Lich goes out to grind away at bounties.

Fuck, he needed a day like this. He’s been seeing less than his fair share of action recently, but continuously dodging Vanguard assignments on Luna has been anxiety-inducing enough on its own. After his first visit, he vowed to make every effort he possibly could to never return. The Vanguard had assigned him a strike against the Hive on Luna today, and so he had to call in one of his favors for a friend to take his place in the fireteam, hence his current position at home while Lich is out and about.

An Incoming Communication notification buzzes at the top of his screen, and he quickly closes the pornography tab before answering. It’s from Phylactery. That’s odd; Lich’s Ghost hardly ever lets themself be seen, and speaks even less. If Lich had a message for him, she’d give it herself.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

The Ghost doesn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “Lich needs immediate evac from K1 Logistics on Luna.”

Windy instantly bolts up from his slouched position. “Wait, what’s going on? Can she transmat out?”

Phylactery is doing their best to keep their tone clipped and curt as usual, but Windy still picks up on the desperate way they hurry over their words. “No, she’s currently catatonic. We’re stuck here until someone can provide an evac.”

“Catatonic?" Windy balks. “What the hell happened down there?”

The Ghost’s distress is evident. “I’m not quite sure. Lich saw something; I think we were attacked, but she still isn’t cognizant enough to give me the details. I felt something suppress our Light. I was knocked unconscious, and Lich… she’s not recovering. We need you here as soon as possible.”

Fear grips Windy’s gut. Suppressed Light means that an RTL is on the table. He’s got enough dead friends walking around on Luna without Lich joining that long list.

“It’ll take me awhile to get there; can you call any nearby Guardians for backup?”

Windy can detect a wince in Phylactery’s tone. “No, this… isn’t the kind of thing that a random stranger would be able to help with. Might make matters worse, even.” the Ghost quietly speculates to themself. “What she really needs right now is someone she trusts.”

Well that’s cryptic. He knows he’s not getting the full picture of events, and stumbling blindly into danger has always been more of Lich’s thing than his. He doesn’t exactly have time to press the Ghost further, though.

“Already on my way. Just gimme like twenty minutes to get there.”

“Right, thank you.” Phylactery seems relieved to no longer be discussing it.

Windy is already in motion as he hangs up the call. He drops the datapad on the cushion beside him, then vaults over the back of the couch in his usual manner. He doesn’t bother taking the time to change out of his boxers and tank top before exiting the apartment; he’ll don his armor in his jumpship. The residents of this housing block have seen far weirder things than his underwear, anyways.

Fuck. On Luna. Guess I won’t be able to avoid it after all. Dread constricts around his gut like a snake as he approaches the Tower’s hangar, a sensation that he knows won’t dissipate until he and Lich are safely back on Earth. For now, he tries to shove it down as best he can. His current priority is making sure that his roommate doesn’t get RTL’d; once she’s safe, he can go drown his worries at the nearest bar and put this all behind him. He distracts himself by planning out the route he’ll take there, what drinks he’ll order, who he might meet up with...

As he’s exiting the Earth’s atmosphere, Windy briefly speculates that maybe finding a therapist would be a better use of his time than just getting drunk again, before he blasts off at near-light speed for Luna.

————————————

Lich-5 awakens to the sensation of an immense weight on top of her, as if she’s trapped underneath a boulder. She’s laying stomach-down on the couch where she fell asleep, being pressed down into the cushions by the heavy object above her. She’s in an apartment typical of one of the Last City’s massive housing blocks, although not the one she shares with Windy. Night has long since fallen outside, casting the living room in darkness. What little illumination remains bathes everything in an odd vermillion.

The Titan’s apartment is small, but his couch provided an adequate place to crash for the night after a particularly wild bar crawl. Lich can’t get drunk, but flying her jumpship home while exhausted would be just as dangerous. When she proposed the idea of crashing at a nearby friend’s place, one particular Titan was eager to offer. He’s new to her group of drinking buddies, and so it struck Lich as unusual that he would so readily invite her over. Once at his apartment, she figured out his reason pretty quickly.

Tucked away in her backpack at the foot of the couch, Phylactery sleeps soundly, enjoying a well-earned rest after a long day’s grind. Lich is currently not being afforded that same rest. The weight on top of her shifts around erratically, fiddling with something, trying to get it open. She’s nearly driven to panic, but her fear keeps her frozen in place. Just pretend you’re still asleep, her mind unhelpfully provides. Play dead, and soon the predator will go away.

The predator does not go away. She feels a sudden spike of pain, and the irregular shifting of the weight quickly becomes paced and rhythmic.

Lich can’t pinpoint when or how her view shifts, but at some point she finds that she’s above herself—literally. She’s watching the scene unfold from a third-person perspective, her disembodied consciousness hanging a meter in the air over her incapacitated frame. She can’t compel herself to move a single piston or servo, her physical form refusing to comply with her immobilized will.

Long ago, in a time before she could remember, Lich had had nightmares in which she was pursued by an extreme danger, only to find her limbs paralyzed and unresponsive to her attempts to flee. This is a lot like that, only it’s not a nightmare; this is real life and the danger is directly on top of her. There is no chance to flee; she’s already been caught.

The Titan’s head, now free of its helmet, rests on the couch next to hers. Despite the warmth of his breath, a chill runs through Lich’s system. She can feel his wet lips graze against her artificial skull as he begins to speak.

“The Light does not hold its wielders to any standard of morality.” he whispers into the side of her head, where the ear would be if she were human. There’s a horrible wrongness in his tone, like multiple beings trying to speak through one mouth. “In the Dark Age, the Warlords inflicted terrible violence upon the innocent, just as he inflicted violence upon you.”

The motion gradually escalates in speed and magnitude, pressing Lich further down into the couch cushions with an oscillating rhythm. Her pain briefly increases as the pace picks up, but it quickly turns dull, and a sensation of warmth grows in its place as her own body turns against her. He’s speaking again, those wet lips and warm breath directly on her audio receptor. He doesn’t pause for air as he produces the words, regardless of his physical exertion.

“In Light, there is only pain.”

There’s a groan from above her, and the weight slumps, ceasing its rhythm. Lich silently breathes a sigh of relief, although she’s still far too overwhelmed with disgust to really be relieved by any of this. She knows on some level that it’s only been minutes, but her dilated sense of time has stretched the ordeal into what felt like hours.

The floorboards creak next to her, and the Titan exits the small living room, although Lich still remains effectively paralyzed. A heavy exhaustion has seeped into her chassis, now even worse than the one she was trying to cure by crashing here. Still unable to will herself to move, it isn’t long before unconsciousness claims her again.

————————————

Windy summons his Sparrow within the second he touches down on Luna. His stomach churns as he exits his jumpship, doing his best to keep his eyes on the ground and away from the lifeless red Guardians hanging motionless over the landing zone. The Pyramid must know this is a center of Guardian activity, and so the nightmares swarm here like some kind of macabre flock.

He passes three more of the crimson phantoms on his way to the dot Phylactery marked on his heads-up display. He gives each of them as wide of a berth as he reasonably can, trying to keep them in his periphery while still steering the vehicle on course. If he looks at one too closely, there's a decent chance he’ll recognize it. He fails to give the third one enough room, and winces under his helmet as it wails at him for help in a voice he’s pretty sure he can put a name to.

Phylactery’s coordinates lead him to the K1 facility at the far end of Archer’s Line. A short distance in, he finds his roommate’s distinctive hive-bone helmet lying discarded to one side. It’s not until he proceeds down a hallway and searches behind a storage container that he finds the Warlock it belongs to. She doesn’t appear to be in any immediate physical danger, although he wouldn’t think it purely by her posture; she’s curled up in a fetal position on the floor, trembling violently, the shutters over her optics squeezed as tight as they’ll go.

One of the red phantoms looms over her cowering form. This one is clearly a Titan, and Windy can’t restrain his relieved exhale when he fails to recognize it. It does not turn to acknowledge him as he enters, keeping its blank gaze fixed on the ball of a Warlock curled behind the box.

It takes Windy a moment to realize that Lich is crying. Her digital optics don’t feature tear ducts, but the anguish in her soft vocalizations is unmistakable. It’s a sound that he doesn’t hear often, but still far more than he’d like.

Windy steps straight through the phantom towards his friend, passing through it as if it’s not even there. The spectral Titan’s body offers no resistance and induces no sensation. The thing recoils in a mimicry of pain, then disperses into maroon wisps as if it were mist. The instant it vanishes completely, her optics fly open.

The first thing that Lich sees is Windy leaned over her, right where he had stood, offering her a hand.

"W-windy?" She accepts the hand graciously, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Phylactery told me you needed an evac.” The somber concern in his tone catches her by surprise, and she briefly feels a pang of guilt for causing him to worry this much.

Lich emits a single humorless laugh, barely holding in a sob behind it. “Yeah. You could say that.” She’ll have to thank her Ghost for their forethought later. She takes a moment to collect herself, brushing the lunar dust off her robes and trying in vain to suppress her shivering.

“You didn’t have to come for me.” she tells him frankly, refusing to meet his sympathetic gaze. “I know how much you hate this place.”

“Lich, it’s fine. There is nothing in all of Sol that could make me leave you behind.”

For a moment, Lich looks like she’s about to cry again, before she closes the distance between their bodies and embraces Windy in a tight hug. He tentatively returns the gesture, protectively wrapping his arms around her back, and her hold on his torso quickly turns into a death grip. She’s no longer crying, but he takes careful note of the way she still shivers and shakes in his embrace.

Lich buries her face in the crook of his neck, hiding away from the world in the rough fabric of his Hunter cloak. Her chemical receptors flood with the particles that cling to the garment; it smells like his shampoo and sweat and the dust of a hundred worlds, all composing into a unique odor that is very distinctly Windy. His smell is grounding, bringing her attention back to the here and now.

“So, did the nightmares get to you?” he asks, tracing his fingers over the top of her fiberglass cranium in the way he knows she likes. He immediately withdraws his hand when she unexpectedly flinches away from the gentle contact. “I thought you hadn’t lost anyone.”

Lich shakes her head gently against his cloak. “I, uh… I saw him again.”

Windy’s blood freezes. Then the phantom Titan was—

“Oh shit, Lich, I’m so sorry.” He suddenly feels very conscious of the way he’s holding her.

Windy can’t forget the morning that Lich had nearly collapsed into their apartment, utterly disheveled after a long night out, and he had to delicately explain to her that sex is not a required payment for a male friend lending you his couch to crash on. Working through that day had been a painful experience for them both, although Windy has no illusions about which of them had it worse. Despite his seniority as a Guardian, dealing with this particular type of violence was entirely outside of his expertise. To his knowledge, aside from him and Phylactery, she’s never told another soul of what happened that night.

“This fucking Pyramid.” he spits out venomously, staring out at the lunar expanse beyond the facility. That fucking Titan. Hate festers within his ribcage like rot. At the time, he’d had half a mind to bust down the Titan’s front door with his Golden Gun in hand, ready to vaporize both him and his Ghost. But Lich needed him more than that Titan needed a bullet, and so the obligation to support her had stayed his hand.

With the Pyramid, though, it’s so much worse. Even though he couldn’t act on his impulse against the Titan, at least there had been some degree of hope there. With how utterly infinitesimal he is compared to the Pyramid’s world-ending might, he doesn’t even get the luxury of a revenge fantasy.

"It was like—" Lich begins to speak, but stops short as her chassis is taken by a violent shiver. Windy can almost feel the intensity of the chill that runs through her. "Like being there all over again."

His attention snaps back to her, and all the hate goes cold. His rage is not what Lich needs right now. Staying angry is impossible when she’s still so visibly distressed. He mentally reminds himself that this is her pain, not his; she’s the one who gets to have the revenge fantasy, if she so chooses.

“Yeah. I... get what that’s like. It sucks, but the suck is ultimately temporary. You’ll get through this.”

The pair are silent for a moment as Lich’s mind swims. She really wishes she could take his words to heart, but the memory of him freshly burned into her mind is all she can focus on. She tries to clear her thoughts by concentrating on the steady rise and fall of Windy’s chest, while her own remains eternally still. She reminds herself of what’s real: he’s here, holding her in his arms, and soon they’ll be home safe. The danger has long since passed, and was never even here in the first place.

“I feel disgusting.” Lich voices the thought aloud, her gaze remaining firmly downcast. “I’ve felt disgusting since that night. I don’t know if it’s ever gonna go away.”

Windy winces, sucking in a quiet breath through his teeth. "That… I lack experience with. But, from the experience I do have, I can tell you that it’s not true." Now he’s the one to strengthen the embrace. Through the heavy weave of her robes, he soothingly runs a hand up and down her mechanical spine, and is relieved when she relaxes into the touch rather than flinching away. "You’re smart, and beautiful, and brave, and you can be really really annoying when you want to be, but I still care about you. You’re the furthest thing from disgusting that I can imagine. What he did doesn’t make you any lesser as a person; you’re still the same Lich I’ve always known.”

Lich tries to form a response, but words fail her, immediately getting caught in the knot that’s formed behind her speakers. She settles for simply holding Windy close, savoring the feeling of their arms wrapped around each other. Some part of her is still trapped in that sewage pit, but it’s further away now, distanced from her by the closeness to him. For the briefest moment, she believes with absolute certainty that everything he said is true, and almost manages to clamber her way out.

“Y’know, if Guardians really are amoral, you’re a pretty good counterexample.”

“Hm?” He turns his head towards hers with a raised brow.

“Ah, nevermind. Symmetrist ramblings.” Windy can’t help but notice another chill run through her.

It’s a long while before Lich feels stable enough on her own to leave his arms. When she finally begins to move away, he retracts his protective embrace, allowing her to separate from him without resistance.

"You ready to head home now? I'll ride with you to the landing zone and fly us back to Earth. We can pick up your jumpship later."

Lich releases an extended sigh, exhaling her residual tension into the thin lunar atmosphere. “Sure. Thanks for all this, by the way. I… needed to hear that.”

He gives her a warm, relieved smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Lich finally escapes from K1 Logistics with her hand firmly in Windy’s. While the Sparrow is intended to be a single-occupancy vehicle, that’s never stopped particularly affectionate Guardians from riding them two at a time. Lich and Windy share the single seat, with her clinging to his back, holding on with her arms wrapped around his midsection.

The ride back to the landing zone is short, but both Guardians savor it. The red phantoms don’t cause either of them much distress on their return trip. Holding each other close, the nightmares seem just a little bit fainter.

#my writing #whump #lady whump #female whumpee #tw noncon #lich-5 and windy

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

When The Earth Met The Sea | Of Eternity and Euphoria (2)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Summary: You had been playing this game with the god of the sea for far too long. He decided to finally put an end to it.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4.7k Words

A/N: Ideas are just-flowing. Let me know your thoughts, they help motivate me a lot!

Other:

Series Masterlist

Normal Masterlist

The god of the sea, with dark eyes like the depths of the ocean and luminescent skin like the fish below, met her when she was just a new god. A goddess meant to manage Earth long after the original god had worn himself out.

You were the newest addition to the collection of gods and goddesses. Everyday seemed to have a newcomer. It was bad enough that they need a welcome booth for where they all seemed to pop out of nowhere. The Earth was changing and so were the gods. When the god who brought the continents of the Earth together discovered that his apprentice, you, had accidentally triggered fault lines to break them apart, he was rightfully angry.

“I can’t believe this. A million years of work to be broken like this.” He had hissed at you. You smiled, still young and hopeful, open to change. That’s what the new gods held against the old gods. They were more open and adaptable. They broke tradition.

You met while you were busy arranging Iceland. You sat puzzled at your desk. It was glass with a large Earth in the middle. You could rotate it with a wave of your hand. For a long time most gods called you the insane ruler of Earth. The goddess that was always in her head. You spent most of your days alone, but you had your thoughts distracting you anyway.

There was a soft knock on your office doors. You looked up quickly, hesitating to open the door. Maybe you could pretend you weren’t here? You shoved Iceland towards the top of the globe hastily, telling yourself you’d move it soon enough.

“I know you’re in there.” A low voice announced. You knew that voice, everyone did. The god of the sea often complained to the other gods if they encroached on his territory. You had simply been waiting until he got around to you. After all, you were the reason for so much distress in the oceans with continents sliding everywhere.

“Come in.” You sighed, not wanting to deal with the annoyed god. Taehyung always looked calm on the surface, but he had a swirling vortex of emotions below. You just didn’t feel like being dragged under right now.

“Pardon my intrusion,” He started off, to which you held back rolling your eyes. “But there are important matters we need to discuss.”

“Ever the polite gentlemen.” You drawled. “Well, I suppose I have some time. Please, sit.” You gestured to the chairs at the other side of the desk. You then waved your hand, shooing away the globe.

“First of all,” He sat carefully, making sure not to wrinkle his suit. “I would like to request you slow down your innovations to the modern world. The continents are stirring up the sea floor and causing thousands of species to become endangered or extinct.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, giving away his frustration.

You simply smiled, clasping your fingers together at the other end of the desk. “Of course, I understand your anger. However, Mr. Kim, there will always be change. Perhaps you just need to adapt?” Your words held a fire that so contrasted your innocent look.

You may be considered innocent, lost in your own world, and fragile, but in reality you were anything but. You held a fire in your soul, a down to Earth nature, and you quipped back impeccably well. Taehyung had never met a goddess like you, much less a god. Usually gods and goddesses alike would bow to the whims of one of the oldest gods. He may have let the power get to him. He was taken aback.

“While that, uh,” He swallowed thickly, not sure how to string together the right words. “While that is true, water adapts easily, I can as well. The issue here is the rate at which change is happening. It’s too fast to adapt. I’m asking for your compassion in this to understand my concerns.”

“I’ll think on it.” You said vaguely. “I want to get the continents settled. After all, I have my own people to take care of.”

He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement before standing. The tension in the air thickened.

“Well, then, I must be going. Thank you for your...consideration.” His voice was steel, but there was a hint of warmth. You couldn’t deny that you had enjoyed the snappy conversation.

“Good day.” You smiled as you watched him leave in a hurry. It would take more than good looks or witty dialogue to change your mind on things.

“Ah, Ms. Y/N.” A familiar voice reached your ears. Oh no. You slowly turned around, a forced smile on your face.

“Taehyung, how lovely to see you again.” You greeted, looking past him to view the other gods he had arrived with. “I didn’t expect you to actually come.” Your face didn’t give away any emotion, staying on a stagnant smile.

“Of course I would come, it’s your 1000th birthday.” His lips twitched into a smile.

“And I will have many more.” You shot back.

“The first millennia is always special. Soon enough you’ll be considered a proper goddess yourself.”

“I’m not considered a proper goddess already?” You quirked an eyebrow. He let out a loud laugh that would seem natural if you didn’t know him. He casually ruffled your hair.

“You’re new yet, don’t be in such a rush to grow old.” His voice had a touch of affection and you weren’t quite sure what to do with that information. He walked away to grab a drink and socialize with the other gods and goddesses at your party.

It wasn’t a grand party, in god terms. You had a large ballroom in your home, though you rarely held any parties. Humans were tiresome and always needed something from you. That reminded you of another encounter you had with the old sea god.

“What’s got you so agitated?” Taehyung leaned casually against the wall in your office. You didn’t need to look up to know it was him. That voice was iconic enough.

“These humans.” You muttered, running a hand through your hair. “They always want more. It seems Jin has created a very greedy species.”

“But Jin loves them nonetheless. He admires there tenacity.”

“They’re like weeds.”

The dark eyed god laughed genuinely. “You are correct, my darling goddess.”

You rolled your eyes. “First they thought the world was flat and now they’re begging for a better harvest as if I have nothing better to do.” You massaged your forehead, holding your head in your hands. You sunk miserably into your chair. “What makes it worse is that I don’t.” You practically threw your hands up in frustration. “Why couldn’t I have gotten assigned to the stars or moon?”

Taehyung’s gaze softened seeing you struggle so hard. He carefully approached you, looking around uncomfortably. What could he do? He lifted his hand and slowly patted your back. It was a mixture of being comforting and annoying.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. You’ll learn soon enough that you don’t have to do everything they want. Yes, they’ll worship you, but they love you even more if they experience what’s it’s like without your guidance. They’ll appreciate you more.” He said, his voice deep and soothing. You sighed, back moving up and down under his touch.

“You’re right, I guess.” When you looked up, you met his eyes. And it was like you were drowning. The orbs of his eyes weren’t obsidian at all, they were a deep, glittering blue. You felt like you were losing your grip, so you quickly pulled away. “Thank you, but I’m very busy.”

He simply nodded and made his way toward the door. “Try not to be so hard on yourself.”

Even now, your eyes trailed him around the room. You shook your head and decided to distract yourself with greeting the endless sea of new guests. The temperature of the room rose with the amount of bodies piling in. You hadn’t expected so many to show up. You weren’t much of a crowds person, again, you were known as the looney goddess up in her head all day.

“I hope we can get along well.” Seokjin smiled, placing a kiss on your hand. You smiled gently.

“I, too, hope we can work together. Though, your humans are troublesome creatures.”

He chuckled and moved to the side, making way for the last god you expected to see. The god of the underworld stood there, his presence seemingly dropping the room’s temperature in itself. He frowned, looking awfully out of place next to the bright colors of the night.

“Mr. Min, lovely to see you.” You smiled pleasantly. He waved you off, eyes lazily surveying the room.

“I just came to wish you well. I believe we’ll be in touch very shortly.” He whispered so only you could hear him. You froze. No god or goddess who was in charge of living things wanted to hear that they would be meeting the god of the dead any time soon.

“What do you mean? What do you know?” You murmured back, fighting the urge to run to your office and check on the troublesome humans. Jin had left them in your care after he was done perfecting them. He claimed they were the perfect inhabitants for your lonely continents.

“You’ll have to talk to Jungkook about it.” He shook his head, moving to the side. You realized you had been talking far too long and people were throwing you suspicious stares, especially Taehyung. You excused yourself from the long line and made your way to the bar. You practically stumbled into a seat, like you were already drunk. You must have looked physically paler than ever before because the bartender poured you a glass of something strong without question.

Jungkook was a new god, like you. He had been made when humans were made. A very select few gods knew his reason for being here. That included the big three (Yoongi, Taehyung, and Seokjin), Jungkook, and Namjoon. The five of them didn’t seem very happy about him being there and they refused to tell you his reason for inhabiting this world. Taehyung would just shake his head, a soft look on his face, and say that he prayed you never found out.

“What happened?” Taehyung slid into a seat next to you.

“Tell me, Tae.” You turned to him, hand tightly gripping the glass. “What is Jungkook’s purpose here?” Your jaw clenched.

“Why do you need to know?” He looked bewildered.

“It pertains to the safety of my inhabitants.” You hissed.

“You really shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why did Yoongi claim I would be meeting with not only him, but also Jungkook, very soon?”

Taehyung’s gaze searched your face. He had a distant look on his face. Then he brushed his hands through his hair. He forced a kind smile onto his face, but his eyes were cold.

“War. Y/N. War. He’s the god of war.”

You rushed out of your room to empty the contents of your stomach out once more. You truly were the most human of all the gods and goddesses. You took on a certain amount of pain your little humans possessed, but this was getting ridiculous. How many times can a god throw up on an empty stomach?

You were not well, everyone knew this. When you could stand, other gods sent you sympathetic looks. Your little humans. Your dreaded companions that plagued themselves with hatred for each other for centuries.

You gasped for air, flushing the toilet. Your eyes closed, trying to hold onto your stomach. You couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. You had to constantly survey the Earth to make sure they didn’t completely destroy it with any of their fancy new weapons. You fell to the floor, feeling like you’d just been punched in the gut. Gods, what had they done to your beautiful creation this time?

You stumbled down the halls and towards your office, feeling more dizzy by the minute. Then you saw it, the news reports that flashed onto your screen, the carnage.

“No.” Your voice was so quiet in disbelief. Then it rose. “No! No! No!” You banged your fist against the table, your other hand clutching your stomach. You felt sick, sicker than before, like you’d been poisoned. All you could see were the words atomic bomb and Japan. You wanted to scream in pain and frustration. You had no lively energy, no color in your cheeks. Your eyes were hollow. Your hands shakily grabbed the table as you pulled yourself to a standing position. Quiet tears streaked down your cheeks.

“Jungkook.” You yelled hoarsely. “Jungkook!”

Finally, the young god appeared in a shimmering light, an astral projection to your office. Unlike you, he seemed to be glowing, basking in the violence. Now he radiated energy and pure rage.

“Please.” You choked, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please, stop this.” You cried out, voice breaking. He just tilted his head, seemingly reveling in your tears.

“Why? I’m thriving, Y/N.” He chuckled darkly.

“You’re killing me.” Your voice was flat, stating a simple truth. If the reason for a god’s existence disappeared, then the god would be forgotten as well. He smiled a little.

“Fine, but you can’t expect me to hold back next time.” He disappeared and you collapsed on the floor, unable to stand any longer.

Pain was all you felt, saw, heard, smelled. His sadistic smile forever burned in your vision.

“Y/N?” A concerned voice came through. You heard a tray drop and the hurried footsteps of someone. “Oh my gods, what happened?”

You didn’t have the energy to respond.

“See, this is why I told you not to get so invested in your little humans.” He murmured, the low voice giving you a sense of peace. Inside, Taehyung was furious. Seeing you laying there helpless broke something in him. And when he picked you up, you were so frail, all bones. Your immortality would not allow you to starve to death, but you could feel that pain.

“You idiot.” His voice didn’t wobble, though he felt like breaking down seeing you like this. Maybe he cared more about you than he should. Maybe he was the idiot for falling in love with you.

“I just-I just wanted to help.” You murmured softly against his shirt. He just clutched you tighter, laying you down onto the large bed.

“I know, love, I know.” He whispered, brushing a few strands of hair from your forehead. He couldn’t handle seeing you in this feverish state. This is not what a god should look like.

Your ethereal light was faded significantly, now a dim glow.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to take care of me. You have the sea to handle.”

“I’d choose you over the sea any day.” He murmured, hoping you hadn’t heard, but you had. You just didn’t react, knowing he would feel awkward if you acknowledged it. Your heart beat quickly, and not because of the fever.

You tugged on his hand. “Stay.”

And he did.

“What’s the prophecy?” Taehyung tilted his head, looking at the pale god before him. Yoongi sighed and took a deep breath, ready to repeat the entire thing again. “No, no,” Taehyung held up a hand. “I’ve already heard that version. Just sum up the important points.”

“Alright.” The older god grumbled. It wasn’t unusual for Taehyung to talk brashly. “Basically, I’ll meet my soulmate and they will lead me down a path that will end in my demise.”

“Anything else that could lead to your demise?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow.

The seven men all sat rather uncomfortably around a table in the throne room. They all looked around, trying to avoid the topic. Finally, Jungkook banged his fist on the table.

“Can we all stop acting like idiots, we’re gods! Why can’t we utter his name? It’s pathetic!” He shouted. Namjoon shot him a glare and Taehyung eyed him warily. He still hadn’t forgiven the younger god for putting you through so much pain.

“Kronos is not a titan to be trifled with.” Namjoon muttered, barely making out the name.

“We all know he’s coming back, hell, even Y/N can feel the growing tension.” Jungkook continued his rant, though a little more subdued. It was true, you had been complaining of this tension in your chest for ages now.

“Don’t talk about her.” Taehyung crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat.

“What? You worried for your girlfriend?” Jungkook sneered. “You’ve grown soft for that insane goddess.”

His fists clenched under the table and Namjoon eyed him carefully.

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Namjoon glared harshly at the two gods. “Jin?”

“Yes?” The sky god straightened.

“Keep an eye on Kronos and Taehyung, please stay behind. I need to speak to you about something.”

Taehyung simply nodded as the others filed out of the room. Now alone, he sagged in his seat. “What do you want, Joon?”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Is that any way to speak to me? Now, I need you to watch Yoongi. I don’t...I don’t want his love to be the downfall of us.”

The sea god scoffed at the other. “You really think Yoongi would fall in love with anyone?”

Namjoon’s eyes softened, looking Taehyung over. “I mean you fell in love, it’s not impossible.”

Taehyung gaped at Namjoon. “What-what? No!” He sputtered. The elder god gave him a knowing smile. “And what are you suggesting! I’m not that hard to love.” He mumbled the last part.

“Listen, you just need to take care of whoever it is.”

Taehyung’s face fell. “Take...care of?”

“Make it look like an accident.”

“I thought you didn’t believe that stuff?” Taehyung argued. The thought of destroying someone’s soulmate made his heart ache.

“Of course I believe the fates. I just didn’t want to worry Yoongi too much. Now, Tae, you’ve found your soulmate, yes?”

The dark haired god tilted his head. “Really?”

“Oh come on, Tae. You can’t be that stupid. It’s obviously Y/N.” Namjoon rolled his eyes. Taehyung swallowed.

“Why does this matter?”

“Well, I love you like a brother, but if you can’t follow through on this...” Namjoon looked into Taehyung’s eyes, a dangerous smile reaching his lips. “...I won’t hold off Jungkook next time.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But, hyung, this is too cruel.” Argued the restless god.

“I have no issue with being cruel. I have an issue with Olympus falling to Kronos once more.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“Yes, a mortal.”

Taehyung froze, swallowing thickly. “A...mortal? Hyung this is too easy.”

“Mortals are easily curious and attracted to evil, you know this better than anyone...Y/N knows this better than anyone.”

“And yet she stays good on her word to Jin. She still defends them and helps them tirelessly.” Taehyung had even grown a soft spot, seeing how much you cared about those pitiful creatures.

“She’s a bit odd,” Namjoon watched a muscle in Taehyung’s jaw twitch at that. “But she will understand, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“She’ll hate me, hyung.”

“Thousands are lost to the sea every year.”

“But never on purpose!”

“She won’t hate you. Y/N is your soulmate, she’ll understand it’s for the better of all gods.”

Though the sea god doubted this, he still nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if I get kicked out of the house, I’m staying with you.”

You did not understand.

“Tae! You can’t just do this to an innocent person!” Once she had overheard the plan, she ran straight to Yoongi to warn him. “She’s eight. EIGHT!” You felt distraught, feeling sympathy for this poor child who was almost killed for no fault of her own.

“I can’t believe you went and told Yoongi.” Taehyung cried, slamming his hands on the desk. You flinched slightly, but that didn’t deter him. “I did what I had to! Don’t you understand that? Do you want to die? You’re part of the original gods who put Kronos down there. He won’t be kind to you.”

“That was the original god, not me.” You defended yourself. “I’m sorry I went to Yoongi, but I can’t do that to him. I know I would feel absolutely heartbroken if my soulmate died.”

Taehyung frowned, ignoring your statement. “Did you know?”

“Know? That you wanted to kill a child?”

“No,” He stepped around the desk and took your hands in his. “That we’re soulmates.”

Your face got visibly pale and you instantly dropped his hands. You tried to ignore the hurt that flashed across his face. “You’re mistaken.”

“Namjoon told me.”

“He could be wrong.”

“Would it really be so bad, to be soulmates with me? To live together, forever?” He peered into your eyes. You softened your facial features.

“I mean, no, I don’t know.” You sighed, tugging at your hair. “I just didn’t expect this.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

You stopped your worrying, glancing over his features. You searched for a sign of sarcasm, but you found none.

“I think I love you.” You suddenly said, your voice quiet. He resisted the urge to kiss you right there, the look on your face was so pure.

“You think?” He teased. He took a step forward and this time you didn’t move away. “I think I love you too.”

He leaned forward, lips brushing yours, teasing you almost. You leaned up, planting a soft kiss on his lips timidly. It was all over then. He grasped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You ran your hands through his hair. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth and you gladly let him in. Taehyung’s breath fanned over your face as he pulled away, leaning down to pepper kisses down your jawline and neck. You gasped, surprised at the neediness he displayed. His hands ran up and down your waist.

“You know I’ll protect you no matter what, right?” He said breathlessly. You nodded, shifting under him. “You drive me crazy, Y/N. You make me want to ruin you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, the centuries of being alone slowly fading away. It had been so long since you’d touched anyone intimately. You were sure you were that last virgin goddess in this town. You nudged him away softly.

“Not yet.” Your voice was firm but rang sweet.

He whined ever so slightly when he pulled away, taking in your flushed face.

“Gods, I’m so in love with you.” He declared.

You were speechless. You were so madly in love with him too. But how could you say it? It almost embarrassed you to be so open in your affections. So you simply nodded, pulling him into your lips once more.

You had long forgotten the little eight year old you and Yoongi had saved. Then she stumbled into the underworld, every god could feel the disturbance, no longer a little girl. She held herself with a lovely confidence. You couldn’t help watching her. After all, she was under your jurisdiction. You left your bed early in the morning, wiggling out from under Taehyung.

You watched him slowly shift, not noticing the lack of warmth. You smiled at his sleeping figure. He looked so peaceful, no sign of the whirlpool underneath. You had long been swept under, but you didn’t mind. He never overwhelmed you.

“Little human, what are you doing here?” You murmured to yourself, watching her wander through the halls. Then you remembered the meeting the gods had in a bit. You carefully flicked through the latest news, though you, of course, knew all of it first. You enjoyed the simple views of these papers, just trying to grab the attention of consumers.

“You’re up early.” Taehyung stood in the doorway, watching you with such love in his eyes, you just wanted to melt. You were still emotionally unstable since World War II, unable to think about war without wanting to break down again. Taehyung hated that he never stepped in. He hated that Jungkook allowed you to go through that. You felt like a ghost, often drifting off during conversation, but Taehyung was always gentle and patient with you. It seemed you were the only one he had patience for.

“Oh, yeah.” You scratched your head awkwardly. “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“Yeah. Yoongi said it was important.”

“You didn’t kill the girl.”

“I know.”

“What will happen to you?”

I’m more worried about you. He thought to himself. “Nothing, love.” He opened his arms and you didn’t hesitate to hug him. “You don’t need to worry about me.” He murmured into your hair.

“Just don’t do anything stupid.” You mumbled.

“Of course.”

You patted his arm lovingly. “And try to give her a chance, okay? You intimidate most gods, what can you expect from a mortal?”

Taehyung chuckled, but he didn’t respond. You sighed and gave him a chaste kiss. “Be safe, love.”

Your face blanched, watching Taehyung get dressed. His hands shook.

“Where are you going?” You asked, voice small. He jumped, looking back to see you standing in the doorway. Taehyung fastened his necktie, swallowing.

“Namjoon wants me to finish the job.”

You froze, eyes widening. “What?”

“I know.” He groaned, hurriedly putting on his shoes. “but it should be easy since she’s traveling to the surface to pack up.” He went to move past you, but you planted yourself in the doorway.

“No.” You said firmly, crossing your arms. He looked at you, bewildered.

“I know you don’t like this, but at this point I have no choice. It’s you or her.”

“I’m a goddess, Taehyung. I’m not a fragile flower. I can handle pain. A mortal cannot!” You cried out. “If it’s me versus her, choose her.”

His gaze hardened and he stepped forward. He place his hands on your shoulders. “No.” Then he moved you aside like you were nothing.

“Kim Taehyung.” You were shaking, hatred pouring through you. “If you do not turn back around right now, I can promise you I will leave. I will leave and you won’t see me again.”

“I can’t believe this.” He whispered menacingly. He turned on his heel, facing you, pain in his eyes. But he knew the terror and pain you were displaying on your face would be engraved in his mind forever. “A human over yourself? You truly are the most selfless goddess I know.”

“They are my fish.” You gestured grandly. “If they die, I die. If the Earth dies because of them, then that’s my fault for loving them too much.”

“You always love people too much. Including me.” He took your hands in his, giving them a soft squeeze, all anger from before was gone. “But you’re lucky I’m absolutely, madly, in love with you.”

Then he turned around, leaving you frozen in place, heart beating wildly. “Taehyung!” You cried, dress flowing behind you as you chased after him. Too late. He was gone. “No, no, no.” You sank to the ground, holding your head in your hands. The pain you felt for that poor girl.

“Lift your head, Y/N.” His gentle voice called to you. And when you looked up, there stood Taehyung in all his glory. Not a hair out of place. You scrambled up, immediately backing away.

“That was fast.” You said bitterly.

“How long have you been sitting there?” His eyes met yours. You glanced away.

“Since you left.”

“That was hours ago.”

“So you did it?” You answered harshly, already feeling the tears ready to spill over.

“No.”

You looked up at him, eyes blinking back the tears in surprise. “No?”

“I couldn’t. Not to you. Not to her.”

A grin broke out onto your face.

“So you do have a heart after all, Mr. Kim Taehyung.”

He grimaced, “I didn’t like you using my name like that. I prefer you calling me Tae.”

You chuckled at his forlorn expression. You walked forward and embraced him. His arms enveloped you in warmth and you felt completely safe. Completely normal. Now you understood why humans went to war for such trivial things. Before you couldn’t understand why they hated each other, why they hurt each other, and by default, you. It’s because they love something else that’s worth fighting for. And as you sank into his embrace, you knew you would go to war for him, even if Kronos ate you like your ancestors, you wouldn’t regret it one bit.

#bts #bts x reader #tatawrites #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #of eternity and euphoria #fluff #angst #God!Taehyung #God!BTS #proof reading is not a thing here lol

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seizethecarpe · 4 years

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Hook, Line, Sinker || Carrington, Mina, Dave

Timing: Current Parties: @carringtonblackwood @drowningisinevitable @seizethecarpe Summary: Carrington, Mina and Dave go fishing for the Sandman and Bloody Mary Warnings: None!

Dave didn’t like this. It had been bad enough to be trapped in the underwater cavern with her lunging out at all sides. Setting up a bunch of mirrors to invite Bloody Mary out sounded like hell, but with the weather taking a turn for the worse, the lake’s waters were too rough to hold a reflection, so setting up this lure with two killers just outside of it. Dave set the last hand held mirror perched precariously on a tree. He looked around him at all the mirrors surrounding them. “Think that’s enough overkill?” He asked his companions, looking over to Mina, the “innocent” in particular. Bloody Mary wasn’t the only one they had to catch today.

Carrington leaned a tall, rectangular floor-mirror against a fallen tree opposite where Dave was setting the last of his own. He’d brought several different ones - safely covered in black sheets - from his home, not needing them himself. It was ironic, in a way, since Carrington had no real reflection to speak of, that it would be mirrors that drew the vengeful spirit to their presence. He stepped back, glancing at the others. A small furrow appeared in his brow as he looked towards the young girl who stood nearby. He didn’t like the idea of using her as bait - she was just a child in the vampire’s eyes - but apparently there wasn’t much choice. He would have to trust she could hold her own. “I believe so,” Carrington said, moving to stand near the others. He glanced up at the angry sky, thinking it suited the mood of the hour. It wouldn’t be long now. He turned back to his companions. “Shall we run through the scenario once more?”

Mina took a few deep, steadying breaths, looking at mirrors around them. She’d agreed to do this. That’s what she had to remember. She agreed to do this because she wanted to help the people in this town, no matter what. But looking at the two men and the mirrors, she wondered, not for the first time, if she was in over her head. She wondered what her dad would think of her, going after vengeful ghost and sandmen instead of doing her actual duty. Would he be disappointed? Or would he be proud of her for helping people? She liked to believe the latter. “It’s certainly a lot,” she murmured, catching her reflection. An iron knife was a familiar weight at her side. “Well, ah, one of you could call out to her? Isn’t that what brings her places in the first place?” Mina still didn’t quite know how she was going to get the sandman here. She supposed she’d figure that out, wouldn’t she?

“Mmm. Problem is that she goes after everyone who’s involved in the summoning, so I’d rather wait for the Sandman to rock up as it were-” Dave didn’t quite pause at his own joke for applause, but he did smile a tiny bit. “Before bringing her here. Rather someone after one person first than someone after all three.” He scratches the bottom of his chin. “Ain’t too sure how to summon him yet. Maybe we all talk about how awake we are to rile him right up?” He shrugged, looking back over to Carrington. “Then we lure ‘em to the lake for them magic folks to take over, and get the hell out of dodge. Anyone got anything more specific than that?”

“I suppose better too much than not enough,” Carrington said quietly, a hint of trepidation in his words. Of the three of them, Carrington had the least to worry about when it came to methods of being killed. However, he was fairly certain such as a creature as Bloody fucking Mary would know exactly how to dispatch him if she wished. Which she would. He had 400 years of blood on his hands, after all. And far too little remorse to go along with it. Carrington silently agreed with Dave about the method of summoning, a tiny smirk lifting the corner of his mouth at the joke, and gave them both a nod. “He’s right. If we call her before the Sandman shows himself, the risk of someone getting hurt - or worse - increases exponentially.” Carrington looked at Mina. “You’re the one the Sandman will want. Mary will likely ignore you in favor of the two of us.” He gestured between himself and Dave. “And of us two, I can’t drown, or be killed by any superficial means. She’ll have to take my head. So I can try and lure her further into the water once we get her there” He looked to Mina again. “It wouldn’t hurt to call out to Sandman. To declare how you’re very much awake and refuse to dream. The idea is sound.” He gave Dave a nod before turning back to Mina. “If you’re ready, of course.”

“Right, okay, right,” Mina said, realising that this was on her. Her two companions, she’d known about what part they would play in this, just as they’d known the part she would play. She agreed to it. Of course she had. This was for the greater good. And, yet, a part of her wondered about the two men in front of her, of the blood on their hands. Was it human? Was it supernatural? Was it both? Did one negate the other? If she’d been the way that her dad had always wanted her to be, she’d be useless to them. Perhaps it was a good thing, in the end, that she’d been far too weak to kill. “That’s completely understandable. I can--” She cleared her throat, looking around them. “Oh… Mr. Sandman? Won’t you--” She was really doing this, wasn't she? “Won’t you bring me a dream?” Mina flinched a bit, feeling embarrassed and a bit ridiculous about calling out into the woods. “I’m very awake right now, you know. Why, I can’t even imagine going to sleep right now!” Nothing. She squinted, but she couldn’t see anything. “Super awake, and I-- I refuse to sleep right now. In fact, I don’t think you could make me sleep if you tried!” She looked to Dave and Carrington, her eyes a bit worried. When she looked back in front of her, she could see… Was that sand, a short distance away in the trees?

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dave breathed, looking out at the trees as the Sandman slowly walked closer. “Didn’t think that would actually work.” He should have been paying more attention to the mirrors, really, considering he had a distinct disadvantage on the other two there. When something cut through through his shoulder, he jerked away from the mirror as Bloody Mary slowly lifted herself out of the frame. “Didn’t even need to call. Time to move!”

Carrington gave Mina what he hoped was an encouraging nod, and waited anxiously next to Dave as she called out to the Sandman. It might have seemed silly at any other point in time, but right now it was nothing if not nerve-wracking. And it was mere moments later that Carrington picked up the sound of something shifting through the trees. When Dave spoke, Carrington looked where his attention was focused. “Christ…” The vampire frowned at the figure stepping from the forest. He looked at Mina, hoping the girl would be alright under so much pressure and fear. Carrington should’ve been watching the mirrors as well. Dave took the first blow, the smell of blood rising quick and sharp in the air. It was unmistakeable, but Carrington had fed well that morning, and had no desire to take from either of his companions. His only desire was to see this murderous bitch dealt with once and for all.

The spirit swiped at Carrington next, and he let her have a taste of him. A long gash split the front of his shirt. Dark blood welled up slowly, thick and coagulated, as he danced out of her reach on the second swipe. “Come on darling…” Carrington taunted as he backed away from the looming spirit. “You can do better than that…”

While Dave and Carrington were preoccupied with Bloody Mary, Mina had her own problem to deal with. Pulling a pair of goggles out of her pocket and putting them on, she turned to face the sentient sand creature coming towards her. The goggles, she knew, might not help her at all, but it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? If they could keep harmful materials out of people’s eyes while they were working, surely they could keep nightmare inducing magical sand out of her own. Right? Maybe. She pulled out her knife, likely useless, but the familiarity of it was grounding. The Sandman seemed to watch her, as if expecting to turn her knife against her companions, to become a killer. “Oh, no,” she said. “This isn’t for them.” She leapt forward, lashed out, and pulled away immediately. As expected, it felt like cutting sand, but it caught the Sandman’s attention. If he wasn’t before, he was definitely focused on her now. She let him get close, ducking and weaving as sand was shot at her, only to keep leading him back. Get to the lake. Get to the lake. Get to the lake.

Blood spilled down Dave’s bare arm rapidly, but it was a shallow cut so he kept moving, keeping his eyes on Mina as much as he did he did Bloody Mary. He had no hesitation letting Carrington take the lead on this, the man was far harder to kill and far more fit ‘n’ spry. Mina, he had been told, could hold her own, but considering she was by herself against the looming shapeshifter, hell, yeah, Dave worried about her. He kept up the pace as they moved away from the pair rapidly, trident gripped tight in his hands, although the weapon was useless against the two of them. Ready to step in as Bloody Mary’s closest target whenever Carrington was starting to look worn down. As they got closer the the lake there were more and more pools of stagnant water, which gave Dave an idea or two. As the sandman lunged at Mina, Dave whipped his net through the water and then, spraying water over its front, the sand dripping away from his form, not that it slowed him. Growling, Dave jumped back, looking over to Bloody Mary and Carrington. “Wait, where the fuck did she go?”

Carrington backed away, careful not to fall over any debris as he stayed just out of the vengeful spirit’s reach. He could always transform if needed. A cloud of mist was far harder to harm than his physical body. But that would likely turn Mary’s full attention to Dave, who had already taken a hit. He seemed fine as Carrington caught a glimpse of him. Mina did as well, taunting the lurching Sandman in order to draw him closer. Part of Carrington smirked, liking the girl’s spirit. Though he knew she was likely still terrified. Carrington certainly was. But he’d faced down worse. Not often, mind. But once or twice in the past four centuries. Bloody Mary swiped at him again, rushing him in flashes of shuddering movement that made Carrington question his senses as she was suddenly too close. It wasn’t until he saw more sudden movement from Dave that he let himself become distracted. He turned to look at his companions, only to see that Dave had turned a new tactic onto the creature that was closing in on Mina. Not much seemed to be able to slow the Sandman, however. Carrington turned back to where he was sure Bloody Mary was about to make another swipe for his throat, but she was- she was gone.

Carrinton stopped, one foot in a puddle of the stagnant water. It was cold as ice, but he didn’t dare move. “I don’t know,” he said to Dave. “She was right-” Carrington jerked suddenly, his words abruptly cut off. Something lukewarm and sticky was soaking his shirt. He looked down to see something sharp and covered in gore protruding from the left side of his chest. He spun away, gripping the sharpened piece of wood - not thinking about how close it had come to his heart - and pulling it free as he felt Bloody Mary’s icy fingers reached for him. The water, though stagnant, had still allowed a reflection to appear. And allowed the spirit a pathway to sneak up on the vampire, attempting to stake him. But when her efforts didn’t pay off, she turned her sights on Dave. Who was very, very close.

“Behind you!” Carrington cried out, the hole in his shoulder already starting to heal.

The water hadn’t done much to slow the Sandman, but it did give Mina an idea. Allowing webbing to form between her fingers, she kept bringing the Sandman closer and closer to her. Then, she’d lean down, scoop up a handful of water, and splash him, watching as clumps of sand fell away. It was slow going, but he did seem to be getting smaller, and Mina was feeling more and more confident that this was going to work out. Or she would have been, had the Sandman not shot out a blast of sand in her direction, knocking her off her feet. She landed on her back and let out a grunt as sand began whipping through the air around her. Her skin stung, sand tearing at her flesh, causing it to turn red and bleed in places. She could barely make out Carrington get stabbed before Bloody Mary turned her sights on Dave, but she couldn’t call out, couldn’t risk opening her mouth and letting sand get in. Scrambling to stand, Mina’s hand came in contact with another puddle, and she flung more water out, causing the sandstorm to recede a bit and allowing her to take a gasping breath. But there was no time to struggle, no time to sit on the ground and catch her breath. Up she got once more, and it was time to focus on her duty.

For a dead woman, Bloody Mary was remarkably strong. Dave didn’t realise she was behind him until her delicate dainty arms wrapped around his throat, squeezing down like a vice. Dave struggled, grasping at branches as she dragged him backwards and he saw spots swimming in his vision. He struggled, his throat sliming up until her grip slipped off him. Dave collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. He rubbed his neck, but had to force himself back to standing, rising as Minas did against her own foe. They burst through the tree line to the lake shore. Dave’s heart hammered in his chest as he looked around, looking for Jasmine and her team for entrapping the duo. It had been her idea and he damn well needed her to be there. “Jesus, couldn’t they have been on this side of the lake?” Dave growled, squinting out across the water at the motley crew. Every part of him itched to plunge into the water of the lake and drag the two of them with him, get the hell out of their reach. “Nearly there.”

Carrington’s shoulder was on fire as broken bone and ripped muscle slowly repaired itself. Being immortal didn’t mean he couldn’t feel pain, but he pushed past it, focusing on what needed doing. A small thrill ran through Carrington as he saw Mina slowly but relentlessly chipping away at the Sandman that was beating down on her. But Bloody Mary had her hands on Dave, dragging him backwards as she tried to strangle the man. Carrington moved after them both, stumbling a bit through the underbrush before they all emerged - Thank Christ - at the lakeshore. Dave was gasping, but had slipped Mary’s death hold, and Mina was struggling but holding still holding her own. They were close now, as Dave said. Carrington could just make out the others across the water. Bloody Mary had disappeared again, but they all knew it was only a matter of time before she returned. The lake spread out like a vast, dark mirror, reflecting everything around it. It was the key to all of this. To ridding themselves of both Mary’s vengeful spirit, and the Sandman’s eternal nightmares. So Carrington made a decision, and started to wade out into the water, hoping Bloody Mary would take the offered bait. The water rippled around him, his reflection wavering gently. If something went amiss, well…. at least he wouldn't drown.

There could be no stopping until the other group was able to take over, Mina knew that, but she’d never fought sand before. It wasn't that much different than when she’d helped her dad by luring unknowing Fae to their deaths. Except, of course, she’d never been in any true danger then. Fae didn’t typically harm other Fae. The Sandman didn’t have any such hangups, and he was pissed, sand once again whipping around her. Dave and Carrington, from what she could see, didn’t seem to be having a better time with Bloody Mary. She’d just barely been able to see how Bloody Mary lifted Dave up by the neck before he was dropped to the ground. She’d check on him. She’d check on him, later, when they were all safe and free of the monsters chasing them. Nearly there. Nearly there. The Sandman solidified once more, no longer a storm but a lumbering monster right on her heels. Didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what he did. Because they were almost to the others who were performing the ritual. Mina could see them growing closer and closer. She hoped they were prepared.

“Better be goddamn ready, Hale,” Dave growled under his breath as his legs began to burn, sprinting towards the trio. Hopefully just Jasmine’s presence would be enough to draw the Sandman’s presence away from Mina. His arm was soaked with blood as his lungs burned for air. He looked back at Mina, sprinting away from the Sandman herself. He looked out to the lake as an arm began to reach out of the water behind the vampire. “Carrington! Behind you!” He bellowed.

Blood from Carrington’s shoulder dripped into the water, but he paid it no mind. Things were fast coming to a head. Dave was running towards the others, a crimson stain spreading across his shirt. Mina was still on her feet too, though the Sandman seemed to realize what she’d been doing and was bearing down on her faster than ever. But they were so close… the others were right there. So Carrington continued to back towards them through the water, careful to stay in the shallows. He was about to call out to Bloody Mary, to taunt the spirit into coming for him, when Dave’s voice cried out in warning. Carrington didn’t hesitate. Bloody Mary’s lethal blow never met flesh as in an instant, only a cloud of shimmering mist remained where the vampire's corporeal form had just been. He reformed behind the raging spirit. Somewhere nearby, the Sandman was still raging closer and closer, but he had to trust that Mina was still alright. And Dave as well.

“Come on then, I’m right here…” Carrington taunted as Bloody Mary spun towards him, long, jagged pieces of glass held in each twisted hand. She opened her mouth to wail her fury at Carrington and Dave for having slipped her grasp. Carrington smirked at the display. “Four-hundred years I’ve walked the earth… the blood I’ve spilled would fill this lake to overflowing. While a single tear could contain all the remorse I feel for it.” Another taunt, though mostly true. Still, Carrington kept moving backwards, never taking his gaze from Bloody Mary. There was a moment where the water rippled unnaturally, and the air grew heavier. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the vengeful spirit came for what she wanted in one last desperate rush of fury and violence.

And got something else instead.

Close enough to see another group of people gathered near the edge of the lake, Mina decided it was time to steer herself away from the Sandman and let the other group take control. Already, the Sandman seemed to be growing tired of her games, his attentions moving beyond her. Good. Had she been hunting with her dad, this would be the moment where he stepped out of the shadows and she stepped back into them, often unable to watch as he killed whatever manner of creature she’d brought to him. This time, though, as the Sandman focused on the other group and Mina stepped out of the way, she didn’t stop looking. There was no guilt as she let the Sandman go to what would hopefully be his doom. All he’d done was harm people, give them nightmares or make them killers. She couldn’t feel bad for him. She hoped that he and Bloody Mary got what they deserved.

#potw #para #chatzy #carrington #mina

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saladejin · 4 years

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Solace (M) | 01

4-part Jimin x Reader | fantasy au, school au, magic user!Jimin | Fluff, angst (basically unresolved), smut with some plot

Summary: Why not spice up your high school life with a teleporting boy of your very own? You find yourself not having a choice in the matter.

While he figures out how to fix his mistakes, strap yourself in for an adventure to remember…

Warnings: Kat’s early ass writing, nothing smutty in the first chapter (bear with me, it gets there lol).

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.7k - first chapter

A/N: Okay, okay. As much as I wanted to edit the absolute shit out of this, and make it 10x better, I stopped myself. This was one of the first smut pieces I ever wrote, and it’s quite old, but I really wanted to have some of my older/first-time writing on the blog so that I could have something to look back on and - better yet - improve from!

I want to look back on it and just think ‘wow, this is absolute trash’, but in a good way. Ya know?

I apologise in advance, yet at the same time I’m hoping some of you out there might find some enjoyment :)

»»————- << masterlist | next >> ————-««

If someone had asked you if you believed in magic a year ago, you would have answered ‘no’ without batting an eyelid. It was simply illogical and plain wrong on so many levels to think greater forces out there actually existed.

Children’s storybooks, fairy-tales, and fictional novels were already out there appealing to the fantasy-ridden minds of the human race, to name a few. So nope, you would never allow yourself to foolishly believe in such silly myths.

Or so you thought.

Reader’s POV - 2nd Person

“As you can see, this historical movement meant…”

You sighed. Over time, drowning out your teacher’s monotonous voice had become much too easy for your liking. You listened to the whispers and soft giggles of your classmates as they all mucked around and paid little to no attention to the lesson taking place.

The year is only halfway done. Should I consider transferring schools?

This place had taught you nothing for the five years you had been here. High school was something that was originally meant to be an ocean of opportunities waiting to be discovered, but now it seemed like a mere wasteland holding no promise for the future; well for your future anyway.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Your teacher droned, looking at everyone over the rim of his glasses as if daring someone to waste his precious time.

Yeah, what’s the point of being here?

You tapped your pencil absent-mindedly against the lined paper in front of you.

“(Y/n),” Your class friend whispered to you from the seat beside yours. You raised an eyebrow at her with a bored eye roll as she pursed her lips guiltily and glanced at your tapping pencil.

“Do you know what he’s been talking about for the last half hour?”

You almost laughed. “Does anyone?” came the scoff from your lips almost instantly. Your friend stifled her smile with one hand so she didn’t draw any unwanted attention to the two of you.

“You’re right, but I also want to pass this exam coming up. How are we meant to do well here?” She asked with a light growl edging her tone. You could only shrug in response, because the answer was also lost on you and had been for as long as you could remember.

“Tell you what, we should get everyone together and come up with a plan to get him fired,” Your eyes lit up, hands suddenly clasping together as the brilliant idea blurted from your mouth. Your friend looked like she was about to whoop for joy and agree with you, but an obnoxious voice cut her off rudely.

“Miss (Y/n), do you have something to share?” The teacher wore his stern expression, eyes flashing with irritation as he stared you down with menace. You felt the anger burning hotter and hotter the more you looked at his punchable face.

Oh, I’m about to tell you exactly what we were talking about you piece of shit.

You were about to stand up and lay it on him, but something interrupted your outburst. Your classmates shifted their attention from you to the strangely flickering lights on the ceiling. Everyone fell silent as the excitement from seeing their teacher get sassed died down, the atmosphere was eerie as the room suddenly became very chillingly cold.

“Who’s playing a prank? Show yourselves before you get punished even worse,” The teacher shouted into the stagnant air. Nobody answered to him or his threat.

“What’s going on? Is it that kid from the other class messing with us again?” Your friend clicked her tongue while gradually moving to cling onto your arm. You barely felt her touch due to the intense amount of goosebumps travelling along your exposed skin. Students begun to question things loudly and the nerves shook their voices as the weird power outages continued.

“It’s probably just the building’s power. Can we get help from the office?” One boy asked your scowling teacher after a few minutes.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” The bald man shook his head and finally walked towards the closed door of the classroom to check for any tricksters.

Before the boy or anyone else could make a move to get help, the flickering stopped and the temperature seemed to return to normal. Everyone exchanged confused glances until the weirdest spectacle of all occurred right near the teacher’s desk.

A body appeared from literal thin air and landed heavily on the carpet below. There was a muffled groan from the figure and the room filled with gasps and shouts of alarm as the person sat up straighter. It was definitely male, seemingly Asian and probably the same age as you. You blinked your eyes rapidly as you tried to comprehend what had just happened.

“You! Were you playing this prank?” Your teacher screeched as he turned around. He hadn’t seen what had happened, but had heard everyone’s shock and responded immediately.

You watched in amazement as the randomly appearing boy lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion. When you looked closer, you could see his chocolate brown eyes gleaming with fear.

He knows just as much as we do…how did this happen?

You being the courageous person you were, got to your feet and stepped around the table tentatively. You didn’t want to approach him just yet because you didn’t know if he was dangerous. Your teacher continued to yell at the boy as you drank in his beautiful night-black hair and perfectly even complexion. You realised just how attractive this person was, but those thoughts had to be swept aside as you recognised the pure terror flooding his gaze.

“I don’t know what’s happening! Please help me, I don’t know where I am,” The boy finally spoke. Well, he spoke, but in flawlessly fluent Korean…

What the-

Your classmates threw even more concerned glances at one another while your teacher just stood still, fully stunned. They hadn’t understood a single word, but you had.

“(Y/n) sit back down, he could hurt you!” Your friend hissed, and you jumped when she grasped at the bottom of your school dress to bring you backwards. The movement caused the strange but beautiful boy to whip his head around in your direction. He was only wearing a casual white t-shirt and loose grey pants with no shoes, but everything looked a little dirtied. How exactly had he appeared here of all places? By what method?

“Hello,” You murmured shakily in his language and squatted down to seem less threatening. You had to muster up what scraps of Korean you knew, as you were known to be the language-centric person of your year level. It was one of your favourite things to do, learn languages, but you never thought it would come in handy for a situation such as this.

“Hello? Do you know Korean?” The boy breathed in a sudden gush of hope and relief. You could’ve sworn tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes, but you weren’t judging because he seemed so lost and scared. You stood up again as he hurriedly got to his feet, his hands trembling and gaze darting around the room from one student to the next.

“I’m calling the principal, we need to figure out what is going on!” Your teacher spluttered before racing from the room, a few pieces of paper from his desk fluttered to the ground as the air rushed past. A few students followed the teacher, and their gazes were terrified from the weird events. You tried to breathe deeply.

“H-how did this happen? I want to be home, argh why did I try that fucking spell?!” The boy cried angrily as he stumbled until his back hit the classroom wall. He buried his fingers painfully deep into his hair and keeled over. You raised your hands, not knowing what to do or how to act. You wanted to help him, but was that okay? Should you even be going near something so strange and unpredictable?

“(Y/n) do you know that language? Maybe you should say something else?” Your friend whimpered from behind you. She had gathered nearby with the other remaining students whose curiosity had gotten the best of them. You felt the overwhelming pressure envelop you whole as your eyes trailed from the group of familiar faces to the frustrated boy.

I have to help him. It’s not something evil, I can tell.

He looked so out of place here, you could see he didn’t have a single clue about what had happened. You carefully moved towards him while ignoring the loud warnings of your friends behind you. You had to know what was happening, and you had to make sure he was okay.

“Um, hello. Who are you?” You asked in Korean, standing in front of him but not too close. You could be as brave as you wanted, but you didn’t want to die just yet.

The boy looked up, his red-rimmed and puffy eyes were the only evidence left of his overpowering emotions. Now he just looked empty with disbelief and shaky with apprehension.

“I’m Park Jimin, just Jimin I guess,” He answered, voice broken and cracking. He seemed weary and emotionally exhausted after all the disorder. You felt seriously bad for him, but still didn’t know how to approach the situation. The only reason all of the responsibility dumped itself onto you was because of your particular skill with language.

“You? What’s your name?” He asked unexpectedly. You looked up from the ground with raised eyebrows, shocked to see that he had taken a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He even managed to smile for a solid second before his full lips pulled into a frown once more.

“Uh, (Y/n). I’m (Y/n), and this is my school,” You tried to explain with your musty skills. He seemed vaguely amused with you, but the humour was lost underneath his crushing anxiety and fear of the unknown. You caught the way he observed you as if he had just seen you for the first time. You could only hope your hair wasn’t too messy.

“This is (Y/c), but how did you get here?” You questioned while using one pointed finger to emphasise what you were asking. He started to explain something quickly, but you only managed to translate a few of the words in your head. He was growing agitated fast, and you regretted asking immediately.

“Hey, hey! Calm down Jimin,” You soothed to the best of your ability, reaching out to touch him but jerking your hands back when you thought about what you were doing. You took one step backwards and sighed, wishing this had never happened.

“Sorry,” He apologised softly.

Before you could protest, your teacher burst into the room with the principal hot on his heels. A few other members of the school’s authority followed, and you winced when you thought about how scary and intimidating the whole thing looked. You turned around just in time to see Jimin’s eyes flashing with more fear.

“It’s okay, they’re okay. They’re teachers, they’ll help you,” You comforted and actually brought one hand up to touch his shoulder. The contact was brief but it seemed to ease some of his worries. He flashed you such an immensely grateful look that your mind short-circuited suddenly. He was really, really handsome.

“Please come here,” Your principal commanded, and to your surprise Jimin looked like he understood to an extent. He pushed off the wall to obey, but looked back as if asking for you to come with him, to be his solace through this hell.

“Do you need someone to help translate and everything?” You piped up hopefully, but you completely expected to be met with the cold hardened stares of the teachers and principal.

“No, we’ll be fine,” The principal assured with a clipped tone, eyeing Jimin as if he were a dirty rag on the side of the street. You clenched your teeth in anger as the party of teachers left with the boy in tow. He saw your frustrated and guilty expression, but only flashed you an understanding smile before leaving the room.

He seems so kind-hearted, I wish he would be treated better. I hope he figures out his shit.

You felt upset, but didn’t know why since you had literally barely met the guy. In all honesty, you should still be scared of him just like everyone else was, but you just weren’t.

“Girl, are you okay? At least that weird person didn’t attack you,” Your friend shook her head in disbelief. The other students dispersed back to their seats and you only noticed then that the rest had returned when the teachers had arrived. Everyone was back and chatting about the strange happening animatedly.

“He wouldn’t. Didn’t you see him? He seemed so afraid, but he was kind,” You argued. You felt angry that nobody seemed to be feeling sorry for Jimin. He was the one that deserved to be scared, not any of you or the teachers.

“I don’t know how you got all that from the small conversation you had, but I guess whatever you say,” Your friend shrugged.

As things seemed to return to normal, you couldn’t push your concerns for the boy out of your mind. Was he okay? What if those cold-hearted teachers shipped him away somewhere just because he couldn’t properly explain how he’d appeared? He could quite easily be sent to the police, or eventually a random orphanage.

“Are you still thinking about him? I’ll admit he was pretty handsome, but that was way too weird! I mean didn’t he just randomly appear in this room?” Your friend grunted, her tone raising as she tried to convince you to think of something else.

“I don’t know!” You widened your eyes, feeling slightly irritated that you couldn’t know absolutely everything, yet you were still expected to. Maybe coming from a family of lawyers did that to you.

Everyone fell silent again and you jerked your head towards the door impatiently. The teachers filtered back in with Jimin, but you blinked firmly when you saw that the boy was dressed in the uniform of your school. His hair was a little neater than when he had appeared, and his eyes were now crinkling along with the striking smile he wore.

“Everyone, please welcome Jimin Park to your class. I’m sure you will all treat this new transfer student with care,” The principal eyed everyone pointedly, just as she usually did, but you sat further backwards in your chair in bewilderment.

“Why-”

“I’m glad to meet you…all. I am (Y/n)’s family friend,” Jimin cut you off and spoke with a broken accent, which in all honesty you and many others found to be adorable.

Wait, my family friend?

You widened your eyes and brought your brows together in sheer confusion. Did you just hear that right? You were about to open your mouth to question him when he flashed you a knowing look. It was a warning, a warning to keep your mouth shut.

“I’m…not good at English. I will try my best, thank you,” He finished and instinctively tried to bow, soon straightening as he remembered he wasn’t in Korea anymore.

“Oh, so this is the dad’s friend’s son you always talk about. Wow, he’s handsome!” Your friend whispered to you with a tiny giggle. You looked at her in shock, mouth hanging slightly open as you tried to grasp what was happening.

The principal left as Jimin moved forward to take the empty seat right next to you. You threw him a glare that demanded an explanation, but you knew it would need to wait for later because your asshole of a teacher was about to start class again.

“Sorry, when we get home I will talk,” Jimin muttered in Korean, leaning towards you so that no-one would overhear. Not that it would matter since you were the only one who could possibly understand him anyway.

“Um, ‘we’? I don’t remember my home being yours too,” You choked out, not even caring if he understood or not.

To sum it up, a random boy had landed in your classroom, caused the whole class and its teacher to freak out, and had then proceeded to alter everyone’s memories somehow.

You were in for one hell of a ride.

#bts au #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin au #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #jimin angst #jimin fluff #magic park jimin #salade-tb #solace

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ceruleanwhore · 4 years

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MLB rant

At this point, I am genuinely pissed at Miraculous. Among other things, Thomas has wrecked the quality of the show over shipping bullshit with episodes like weredad and, in the process, fucked everything over so that now, no matter what happens or who ends up with who, it’s going to be shit. In a lot of ways, he’s done to Miraculous what Bryke did to Avatar in the comics- ruined established characters and the overall story by trying and failing to take care of the relationships/shipping. At this point, Marinette’s character is so awful in relation to this that I truly can’t fathom how Adrien and Luka can still tolerate her, never mind actually like her. Where she should have been steadily improving this whole time, she is instead getting much worse. This, of course, is because the show is constructed such that there is only the few main plot aspects everything revolves around (Hawkmoth and the love square) but, even though Astruc is clearly trying to drag the show out, he isn’t adding any other layers to the show to make up for how flat it is, so in the process of keeping those main plot points static, he has ended up fucking over his own show and dragging Marinette’s character down. At the start of the series, Marinette was clumsy and socially awkward but in a somewhat endearing way. Now, a school year or so later, she hasn’t improved at all and, in spite of now being Ladybug which would be the perfect catalyst for her character development, she’s genuinely getting worse to the point where, as we see in Desperada, she now acts like she has brain damage or something.

The degradation of Marinette’s character is a direct result of Atruc trying to shut down side ships, including some within the love square, in spite of how completely unnecessary it was. He shouldn’t have been doing stuff like that at all, honestly, but things like that should have only been done if and when he was going into the endgame and setting up to finally put them into canon relationships. There are a few ways he could have done this more successfully:

1. In season 2, after Ladybug flat out rejects him, have that be enough to initiate the process of Adrien moving on and have him be completely over her by the end of the season but leave him single. Meanwhile, from the beginning of the show, it should be shown how the way Adrien constantly says that Marinette is “just a friend” wears on her over time, plus Luka showing up adds another element that would shake things up and leave her feelings for Adrien unsteady. Eventually, maybe later season 2, Adrien would make another comment like that again and that would be the last straw at which point she’d be done. Shortly after that, she’d get together with Luka.

2.Kinda like what I just described but after Adrien gets over Ladybug and Marinette gets over him, they could get together as Marichat in some rich dramatic irony.

So then there is the matter of character development. I’ve already lamented Marinette, but I’d argue that basically none of the characters have any significant character development. Chloe had the opportunity that got royally fucked over, which was probably also for the sake of maintaining stasis, but other than a couple people here and there, there isn’t much to be found. I think this is because there isn’t actually much content, when it comes to this show. About half of each episode is taken up by the akuma and what’s left tends to be more concerned with cute things like Marinette facetiming Alya about Adrien or bringing some macrons somewhere or whatever and, like I said earlier, there are no subplots that would provide more depth to the show and help promote character growth. I think it would work better if a) there were subplots and b) there wasn’t an akuma every episode, maybe just every couple. It gets really boring and repetitive to have half of every episode be basically the same and take up so much space so that there isn’t room to put in real shit and character growth around it.

Regarding Chloe, if they were going to give her a fucking miraculous, they should’ve been planning on using that to kickstart her redemption arc. It makes absolutely no sense to trust her with it and then have her proceed to not change at all. All it does is create a shitty situation where this bitch is now a superhero but she’s still a mega bitch so then when she no longer gets to be a superhero, that adds to her being a miserable bitch. Honestly, it doesn’t even remotely make sense why Marinette gave it to her in the first place and when I look back on it I think it’s literally nothing more than pure pandering in response to what people were posting on Tumblr. It would’ve made a lot more sense for her to have had some level of preliminary character development first before Marinette presented her with the miraculous. Also, maybe it could be after she’d made a bitchy comment about Chloe that then got a response that showed Marinette how she was wrong and made her feel bad and this is her way of making it up to her but, more importantly, showing how she’s getting over her prejudice and now choosing to put faith in Chloe and support the progress she and those around her have witnessed. Then, the miraculous and the responsibilities that go with it (plus Marinette’s inevitable end of episode apology) would catalyze Chloe’s continued growth and development but like the amount of growth she’d have already would be enough for her to act more maturely and keep her identity a secret, which would be A Thingᵗᵐ.

However, along that same vein, I think it’s absurdly stupid how they really went with the “everyone gets a miraculous (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ *:･ﾟ ” thing. It makes sense to bring in one more but not this bullshit where everybody gets one but only sometimes. Bring on one more, permanently, maybe even add another later on (MUCH later on) if necessary but don’t just have this bullshit where Marinette just picks the flavor of the day. Also, her now being the guardian is the genuine worst decision, period. If it’s really that important to boot Wu and bring in a new guardian, have it be someone else like Alya, idk or, even better, a new character entirely. Wu said he had to be trained so I’d like to propose to have it so that he’s been training one for a while but we just don’t see them because since their training is incomplete, Wu can’t trust them with Ladybug and Chat Noir’s secret identities yet. But jesus fuck, Marinette should not be that person. She’s already quite Mary Sue already, she really doesn’t need that and the episode where she’s able to weild all the miraculouses to just throw in more shit about how she’s so good and so powerful and all that stuff.

So, then, there are inconsistencies in the writing, mainly in regards to their secret identities and shipping. In one of the episodes in season three, Master Wu told them they would have to give up their miraculouses if they ever learned each other’s identities, which is incredibly fucking stupid since he then just hands her all the miraculouses and makes her the new guardian. So she’s just supposed to hold that boundary because he told her to when she’s now the one who’d be enforcing it and taking the miraculouses if that ever came to be? So if (when) they learn their identities, she’s supposed to, as the guardian, take Adrien’s and give up her own miraculous but then keep on being the guardian? I think the line from Master Wu was supposed to add drama and suspence but that only works if you don’t go and negate it three seconds later. The other inconsistency that, to me, was glaringly obvious and just as annoying was when Marinette, Adrien, and Kagami went to Andre’s. Back when this guy was first introduced, the way it all worked was that when someone came up, he’d make them an individualized ice cream cone based on the person they love. In season three, all of a sudden, for no reason whatsoever, the fact that it’s three people coming up to get ice cream changes the entire system to some other bullshit all so we can get some over done, in-your-face adrienette vs adrigami tension in which Marinette is a Good Girlᵗᵐ.

Then, lastly, I find it extremely odd how there are practically no background characters and that the few there are tend to be recurring. If there are going to be 77+ episodes of “oh no that dude got akumatized”, it would be prudent to have more throwaway background characters to use for the akumas and then only use the main/recurring ones for that intermittently and only when it adds something to the episode and/or the plot as a whole. The classroom kids shouldn’t be the default, they should be used sparingly and with care. Not to mention how it also would be good to have more background characters just so stuff like scenes where they’re in the hallways in between classes don’t look so awkward because there’s just this one class of kids in this entire school (plus Marco) and literally nobody else. It’s a thing in every film or show that has ever been made but in this one, for no reason, there just are no extras and it feels so awkward at times.

The way that every single episode is set up the same and how there is that lack of background characters to akumatize so there ends up being a bunch of reakumatizations, plus the way that nothing much actually happens, in terms of plot progression, after season one all make it so that the show as a whole after the end of season one feels really stagnant. It’s like Astruc is trying to hold out and wait to drop actual resolution to any of the main plot points until later on but he hasn’t sufficiently constructed other layers to the story, like subplots, to have it still be engaging. In my opinion, MLB could’ve actually been completely tied up with the whole Hawkmoth business back in the season one finale, based on the content of the show, because there’s just not that much there. It makes me mad because the show has a great concept and I love the characters, but it’s just been shit and it’s not getting better.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous adventures of ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #hawkmoth #gabriel agreste #thomas astruc #anti mlb #anti miraculous #ml critical #mlb critical

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jellyfish-neo · 4 years

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Recent OC Summaries!

These are all for an urban fantasy or science fantasy setting, not sure yet. Several of them are or could be interconnected. A couple race descriptions may be thrown in. I also may have been inspired by Good Omens to do some angel/demon stuff?? Also i’m gonna add some gender/sexuality stuff not because it’s important but because it’s fun! Anyway here we go:

Race: Astomi

The astomi, originally from Greek/Roman mythology, are mouthless people who live off of sweet-smelling fruit and flowers. Bad smells weaken and can potentially kill these beings, and the pollution of a modern world has made them very few and far between. When one of the few astomi left attempts to warn the public of the very real danger this brings them, they are silenced.

Iovita | Aromantic, Asexual, Agender

Vita is a 20-year-old astomi. They wear a face mask to hide their lack of a mouth as well as shield their nose from the pollution they’re inevitably bathed in living in a city. They communicate using sign language, and their queerplatonic partner, Ashton, acts as their interpreter when necessary. The two work at a small office and art supply store, but also earn some money on the side doing non-criminal forgery. They won’t fake signatures or anything like that, but Vita uses their talent for forging handwriting to write letters, essays, and papers for anyone who’s willing to pay, and Ashton acts as their interpreter and, on occasion, bodyguard. Vita is very tired most of the time due to their weak condition, but they’re calm and observant. Sure, they’re willing to break most rules to get what they want, but they’ve got enough morality to not do anything too bad and enough sense to keep said rule-breaking minor enough to not get caught.

Ashton | Pansexual, Nonbinary

Ashton, a 20-year-old human, dropped out of magic college last year. They wanted to go into combat magic, specializing in fire magic (the coolest kind), but as it turns out, they were okay at plant magic and terrible with fire. This was not all bad though, since they could use it to help their best friend and eventual QPP! This isn’t a one-sided thing, though, since Vita’s survival instincts often help Ashton keep out of trouble. Ashton is very rebellious, and can be rather arrogant and rude at times, getting them into fights. While they’re not great at combat magic, they can certainly hold their own with their fists. If you can get past their somewhat annoying exterior, however, you’ll find an excitable person who’s fiercely supportive and protective of their friends. They also have a girlfriend from magic school named Mari.

Mari | Trans Woman, Bisexual (attracted to women and nb people)

Mari is a gifted elven wizard going to magic college for praecantology (the study of magic) and combat magic. She and Ashton had plans to start an adventuring party together since middle school, but when Ashton started having trouble with combat magic, Mari was the first to tell them they didn’t have to go that route. She would have loved to carry out a career with her partner, but if it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be. She still plans to be an adventurer, and they’ll have to figure out how to do a long-distance relationship when that time comes, but the for now she’s content renting an apartment with Ashton and Vita. Mari is an ambitious person, but she’s still got her fair share of caution. She does, however, have a bad habit of trying to fix other people’s problems. She doesn’t think she knows the best for anyone, but she can spend so much time worrying about issues that have nothing to do with her that she has barely enough energy to do things for herself. When she’s not in such a state, she’s quite responsible. She also bakes. Really well.

Races: Angels and Demons

Angels and demons are viewed as very different beings, and they come in many different forms, but they all share one thing in common: they are forged by gods. Angels are forged in the heat of stars by a god of order, while demons are forged in the depths of the earth by a god of chaos. They’re not as simple as good or evil, either. If the world is bathed in the chaos of war and disaster, angels are the ones to attempt to fix it, while strict regimes and stagnant societies are best fixed by the demons.

Devrim | Demiwoman, Aromantic

Devrim is a humanoid demon who thinks the mortals have gotten too boring for their own good. Sure, they’re not all filing taxes with their money from their 9-5 jobs, but there hasn’t been a revolution in like, four whole years. Not a serious one, anyway. And, even worse: not a single person has stepped up to even attempt the trials of godhood in a century. Even the kid who did it last time was an outlier who was seen as insane. To fix this problem and make those who believe they’re ‘in charge’ a bit less cozy, Dev has set aside her centuries of notable protests, wild parties, and minor crimes to gather a group of mortals to shake the pantheon up a bit! She may seem like the irresponsible “they’ll figure it out for themselves” type, but she’s really the irresponsible “they’ll figure it out for themselves after I shove them in the right direction” type.

Declan | Agender, Aromantic

Declan is a humanoid angel with a poorly-disguised grudge against Devrim. They say everything they do is for the sake of order, and while order may be the lense through which they see everything else, it’s certainly not their only motivator. That other motivator is malice. They may not show it, but they thrive on getting in other people’s way. This is likely because this gets them praise from the higher-ups. Either way, Declan’s got some mysterious beef with Dev, and they’ll stop her with any lawful means possible.

Blaine | Trans Man, Demiromantic

Blaine is an absolute ray of sunshine, or, at least, he tries to be. You see, he’s been half-possessed by a demon rat sent by the chaos god themself for about a year now, and this rat’s intentions are a lot less ‘good’ than Devrim’s. The rat, who Blaine calls Pla, was sent to find a mortal to cause as much chaos as possible, and forcing a person like Blaine to do it was sure to get Pla some extra credit. While he’s not fully possessed all the time, Blaine must do Pla’s bidding, or else they’ll take over his body. The possession is terrifying and painful when it happens, and yields the same result either way, and after a month or two of trying to fight him off, he pretty much gave up and started hoping for someone to stop him. The tasks he is forced to carry out range from spreading panic-inducing rumors to murdering people and sending fake threats. Blaine refuses to let his anguish show, instead showing the world a happy, polite, and positive person when he can. He also tends to believe in other people more than he believes in himself.

Torny | Lesbian

Torny is in a similar situation to Blaine, but she’s certainly not having nearly as bad a time. As a chaotic person who does whatever she wants without any thought to the consequences, an cat-shaped angel whom she calls Peir has taken on the role of her magical therapist while also giving her ‘lessons’ by having her help people. Peir doesn’t control her unless she’s about to do something drastic like hit someone. Torny likes motorcycling, starting fights, and fantasy animal crossing punk rock.

#long post #oc summaries #ocs

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mattamyers · 4 years

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My long journey of healing has continued

It’s been years since my last blog post. I’ve decided I will start to post a log of my days, when my mental energy allows, when I feel well or positive or organized enough to do so. I’m not sure how this practice will evolve, however I’m wanting to actively start sharing my story, where I’m at, so people can start to get to know me - and what my days are like, how my life is hopefully evolving, moving forward - as well as the difficulties I face daily. What’s changed most recently is that the last stem cell treatment I did in the Cayman Islands has improved my executive function and recovery time from activity more, where posting regularly of longer form text seems like a possibility now - at least in this fairly stream of consciousness, limited organizational executive function way. Unfortunately the post-LASIK eye pain (corneal neuralgia) has proved itself to be the mainstay of pain, causing the majority of the executive function disruption, dysfunction. Yes, I struggle dealing with a varying degree of severity of being suicidal. No, once I decide I can’t do this anymore then I will not be letting anyone know - I have already tried multiple times to get help in our healthcare system, to which I was exposed to what in the future will be considered barbaric care provided due to a number of factors, however heavily due to indoctrination and a lack of multidisciplinary understanding and care; as which as I hopefully am able to share, you will see highlighted in my multiyear effort to help save Taylor, a friend, save her from from the broken system and from herself and her coping mechanism, who is trapped in it due to the funnel toward hospitalization and under care of the non-multidisciplinary care of psychiatric doctors - where that profession somehow has been allowed to capture and have a monopoly on a person’s care even if physical symptoms play a primary role in their dis-ease; the system having allowed her dis-ease progression to continue over years - most recently seeing how inadequate and arguably negligent care provided by not only doctors who are in control of her during hospitalization but also by legal aid that was provided her.

I’m not inherently broken, I’m not clinically depressed. As I’ve healed myself further and follow holistic health practices I’ve strengthened my nervous system, and unfortunately that has only had the affect of allowing me to feel pain more clearly, sharply - in higher definition, resolution. I can still smile, have a conversation - story tell and reason. What’s difficult for people to understand is how the constant, strong pain that refers from my eyes (primarily right eye) affects and sensitizes my nervous system - how that is a constant battle that exhausts me mentally and causes my executive function to be greatly impaired as well - increasingly so with added stress, physical or emotional - and tied to that the more potential emotion or stress tied into a decision, with more complex decisions being worse or having a stronger aversion, the more difficult it is to move forward - to get past the pain. Most of my days, weeks, are full of frustrations, exhaustion, of reminders of where I am at and what my life is like - how stagnant it is. I do my best to be on a positive line of thought, to having and being able to hold onto hope - for my projects and toward finding a solution that may help me tolerate the eye pain by reducing it further.

If I can successfully rally my designer friends to be able to help focus me and to help move the presentation forward for my greater plans, my vision for a health-wellness differentiated ecosystem - and ultimately towards building a city to compete with the status quo - their help to develop and refine the plan, then they may give me enough hope to keep fighting through the eye pain until hopefully research finds a solution to heal it with stem cells, regenerative medicine.

January 29, 2020

8:35am

I’ve parked myself now at Balzac’s Ryerson. I took the bus and had three nice interactions on the way. The first was letting someone who was running for the bus and about to get an an almost crammed bus, that another bus was right behind. He thanked me and made sure I got on first. At the next stop a man was at the back doors which I was sitting behind, however no one was getting out - I tried to push the bars to open the door but the green lights weren’t on since the stop wasn’t requested. He thanked me, smiling as he walked towards me from the front. The final interaction was the man sitting next to me, who turned out to one a first year student at Ryerson in Urban and Regional Planning. He was reading a book by Jane Jacobs, which I asked if it was worth reading. I told him first that after high school I first went to Ryerson, in his current program, though filtered myself out after first year due to not seeing myself having that career for the next 40+ years; irony perhaps that all along I was developing necessary skills, knowledge, and experience toward creating my New City and New City model. Everyone else on the bus was relatively asleep, unengaged, unsocial.

8:50am

I hadn’t used my laptop much yesterday, except a little before bed and the screen at a distance - less than 5 minutes really. Today I’m already feeling the eye pain increasing significantly compared to what I felt anytime yesterday, and how much it’s distracting my thinking, mental organization.

9:05am

Since my last stem cell treatment in the Cayman Islands significantly healing in particular my cervical and lumbar spine, I can be more mobile and the pain is reduced enough where if I don’t completely overdo it, I can have some level of executive function to manage myself. However now I am able to experience this contrast of more mobility - which keeps me away from my laptop screen - with how strongly my laptop screen triggers the burning sensation, pain of my eyes (most noticeably my right eye) and its cascading symptoms of headache and fascial tension increasing in my body. My focusing ability is decreasing from where I started before being in front of my screen, however how far it will degrade compared to before, I am still getting used to - however I can feel a building mental exhaustion as I’m having to counter, push against the aversion caused by the increase of pain triggered by the laptop screen light.

9:21am

My right eye more easily wants to shut too, an autonomous guard mechanism to protect itself, compared to yesterday throughout most of the day.

9:50am

I have been wanting to focus on, direct my attention, to finishing - so I can conclude my attention - the past week, especially the last few days, of a very heavily emotional and stressful event where I’ve been trying my best to help save a close friend I’ve known for a few years - to save her from herself, and from our healthcare system that has been adequate and negligent in her care - and is currently hospitalized, again, where he disease progression has been able to worsen because of specific, narrow scope of psychiatric care ignoring the importance of body health — in Taylor’s case needing proper treatment - a safe container, environment - to treat gut, sensory disorder (hypersensitivity; autistic characteristic), and for

“The lesser of two evils” - sharing Taylor’s story from my observations vs. being afraid and not exposing the system with an actual real person, case study to reference in high detail from a narrow and holistic view - while respecting privacy and not exposing any identifiable details that only doctors or other people Taylor shared with could would be the “lesser of two evils” as Taylor likes to say; and hopefully everyone has the integrity and rigor to not share what they shouldn’t, particularly if bound by privacy laws.

10:28am

As the body pain, from walking the amount I have today - from house to closest TTC bus stop, from destination stop to cafe, and around cafe a bit to purchase tea, water refills, and bathroom break(s) - has been calming, desensitizing, localizing - I’m more clearly able to feel the tension and soreness referring from my right eye, down through my right ear, down back of my neck on right side, and so on. When I close my eyes, right eye in particular, the desensitizing, localization can start to unwind relatively quickly before compared to the Cayman Islands treatment - however the discomfort is still quite distracting. I am curious — and afraid to go to acupuncture again, which I went too a short bit before going to the Caymans - not having done acupuncture for at least 2 years — to see how strongly acupuncture now will clear as it does, and how strongly it leaves me specifically and clearly feeling the right eye pain as an intense burning, searing sensation - which last time lasted for 8 hours or so, that sensation only diminishing as my body re-sensitized and therefore masked out the perception of the eye pain; it makes me wonder if others who have done LASIK, if they had clearly flowing, non-stagnant energy to begin or even if doing acupuncture for long enough to open their energy flows up - would experience post-LASIK symptoms differently, more clearly than before opening their body up; similarly regarding Ayahuasca ceremonies, marijuana use, or other psychedelics.

I believe more now too that since the neck and jaw pain has been healed more - reducing the masking, allowing me to more clearly feel what’s going on in these sensitization vs. localization flows/cycles due to pain - that the right eye pain’s referring pain sensitizes (makes hypersensitive) the tissue on the right side of my jaw increases, the soreness, and pain increases - even with limited to no use from chewing food (I haven’t eaten yet today). The sensitization of my teeth seems more clear now too, which at the moment I can feel much more than when I first woke up this morning - in line with the jaw pain increasing too.

11am

I just stepped away to the bathroom to go pee. As I was sitting — something I’ve been doing for a long while because for a long time was too difficult to relax enough to pee standing, my body didn’t trust standing if more relaxed — I closed my eyes and let myself relax as much as I could. During this time I could start feeling muscles in my jaw and face on the right side fluttering, spasming some. I hadn’t felt the jaw muscles spasms, fluttering before, only muscles around and closer to my right eye that I could feel where that’d happen — something I haven’t actually written much about or maybe not even at all; it’s the muscles being able to start relaxing but still not quite able to, with the reduced constant pain of my eye being closed for that short period after sensitization.

I’m able to more easily notice, along side with the pattern cascading from the right eye pain when I open my eyes each morning, when sitting and trying to be in a more relaxed state, in slouching posture and using back of chair to rest again — that my neck still wants to go into a more back and to a right position — something that before I couldn’t as easily allow, because perhaps the guard mechanism pattern was pulling my neck back too strongly, from there being too much pain being referred; it’s possible that that guard mechanism is triggered, such as that if say a “present moment” injury to the eye was occurring — a good, natural quick, rapid action reflex, would be to pull your head back and away; it was only in the last few months that I started theorizing that, and now that I’ve continued to have substantial neck pain from injuries healed - I wonder 1 )how much is still due to remaining injury, 2) how much is due to old patterns that need time to trust the neck and surrounding tissues are safe (as they dance and slowly heal with physiotherapy etc), and 3) how much of that reflex is caused by the referring pain from my right eye?

12:22pm

I can feel that I’m still reconnecting to and slowly processing stress from the last week, the last few days. It’s good, very good that my body can start to processing things emotionally more easily again since last treatment even with a relatively higher amount of physical activity compared to before — but unfortunately still what that means — as to the reason why there was such resistance, difficult, aversion to emotion processing before — that I’m grounding, grinding into my body - with the friction of the aversion to remaining pain — and where the post-LASIK eye pain is still the primary contributor; I do wonder and theorize that there is an abnormal inflammatory response (perhaps EDS related or that causes similar symptoms of EDS) - whether in brain and/or body - that leads to a central sensitization affect [effect?] to cascade so strongly, and therefore that many people who has done LASIK don’t have the same level of severe symptoms.

1:06pm

Taylor just texted me again. I responded saying I didn’t need the fork and plastic container her mother took home to finish the food I brought Taylor to dine with her in the hospital on some quality food that would be safe for her - steak and kale, to get high calorie and nutrient dense food in her, in with what little she eats due to an aversion from years long untreated gut pain and nausea; I said I don’t care to spend the time, energy, or money to go to her mother’s to pick it up, and to take care.

Taylor continued to reply in her usual way which I won’t outline here. She communicates often by referencing songs for how she feels that she believes relates to the current situation. I took that opportunity to then respond in equal by saying the song that came to me was In the Arms of the Angel Sarah McLachlan - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pvf_OBuJVE - as well as to notify her I was blocking her phone number again, and that she can email me if she wants - however that I don’t know how often I will check it; long ago I started having to block her phone number at different points, and redirect her emails to automatically archive - so I don’t see them unless I search for her email, in order to protect myself from being triggered or pulled into what can emails or texts as bombardments to well-thought out pleads that she needs help - intelligent, and eloquent, and an expert seductress as one of her coping mechanisms to bring in various qualities of support, company, as a means to distract herself; always as her most desperate, in her darkest hours, has she consciously and even once subconsciously (where her ego mind boundaries and controls for respecting someone else’ wishes to not contact me through phone directly getting superseded by a short-circuiting of sorts due to how degraded, ungrounded, destabilized her thinking has become — reached out to me again with a different phone number; this has happened 6+ times over the last 2+ years — where I learn more, understand her patterns, and how deeply the inadequate care goes with her recurring hospitalizations into psychiatric care over these years as well.

To be fair, it only feels right to share: my voluntarily hospitalization December 2017 is when I first met her in hospital. I had been struggling for over a year at that point with debilitating pain that severely fucked up my executive function. My decision making, mental organization, emotional processing — and in general anything related to thinking about moving forward — the planning triggering a slight stress as a preparation into the body readying to actually move, causing an aversion due to even thought about moving forward/organization of future — was extremely difficult. The only coping that worked was greatly limiting my activity every day, reducing any possible irritants from diet as much as possible, and usually I’d keep my right eye closed for up to hours every morning after waking up to slow how quickly the post-LASIK eye pain would ramp up and sensitize the rest of my body and its pain, making it hypersensitive to pain. That day in 2017 I knew if I had gone home I would have taken my life, having desperately struggled for around a year by that point to find support to help me with tasks - with organizing, planning — for basic things as well as for finding somewhere to do more stem cell treatments (longer story I won’t share now), with more complex tasks with more steps being more difficult, a stronger aversion, towards acting including on how much emotion would be surrounding or behind the decision or action that needed to be taken.

1:33pm

I’m sitting by the door at Balzac’s - was only window seat available when I arrived. I just got a chill that reminded me that a few nights ago while laying in bed ready to fall asleep, my whole body - both right and left side together, shook in a wave as my body reacted to warm up a bit; I had never experienced or perceived that feeling before, at least not that clearly or in such high definition.

1:40pm

I finally checked a voicemail someone left. It was an automated call to confirm — a 2nd time — for an endocrinology appointment I have coming up to test my hormone levels; another long story to outline the stupidity of understanding this may be a cause to the fatigue I experience or then towards actual diagnosis.

2:04pm

I just went pee again. Relaxed sitting position, closed my eyes, the face muscle fluttering started again. I tried this time instead to do some alternate nostril-breathing (with thumb/pinky to physically block each nostril) to see if it would help - and it did seem to help whatever energy was struggling to flow, to pass, to flow; https://www.healthline.com/health/alternate-nostril-breathing

The amplified symptoms I’ve experienced has lead me to re-realize that the body relaxing more easily while having the eyes closed is natural, a mechanism whereby once your eyes are open — tense your body and fascia for movement, and presumably when your eyes are closed, start to relax your fascia — which at length is during sleep, when you want your body and tissues to be as open as possible for best blood and other fluid flow to be as unrestricted as possible; inflammation is linked to Alzheimers-Dementia as channels in brain that want to open during sleep to clear toxins, waste, efficiently — can’t, it’s easy to conclude that similar dis-ease can progress in the body for rest of the tissues in brain, and where dis-ease state could progress quickly if an overall unhealthy system is already at its tolerance of regenerating, regulating immune system for clearing the body of cancer, etc.

January 30, 2020

Summary of yesterday:

I am roughly transcribing this from an audio recording I made before getting out of bed. I’ve done that a lot over this last year, it’s allowed me to share without getting out of bed agitating the pain, without opening my right eye or having my left eye open much except for initially recording. A friend awhile ago suggested setting up voice activated recording - I just haven’t been able to focus enough, direct myself to that task, with everything else going on; it would help but obviously I do need to open both my eyes at some point during the day anyway, and even if I don’t open them, if I become active with thinking just the movement of my eyes with my eyelids closed increasingly agitates and increases the pain from the eyes anyway.

All I want to finish with saying is to say that what Taylor is going through, it exposes many things that are wrong with our system. I won’t begin to go into the detail here, however I have written much and will continue to clarify and evolve my understanding, write the story, in hopes of saving Taylor and anyone else who is hurt more and left suffering longer by the system; the doctor kept her hospitalized, was forcing a tribunal on her where he’d present a case to force medication on her she doesn’t want (meanwhile after multiple hospitalizations over the years they still ignore and don’t treat her gut pain, nausea - nor care to understand its consequences - nor are they or do they provide safe food for her, nor do they manage and control to only provide food that is part of helping stabilize her). The largest failure is that somehow the field of psychiatry has been given a monopoly on care when mental health is involved - allowing non-multidisciplinary care to continue.

I will leave you with a video to show the new hope coming for all in the near future, that Presidential candidate Andrew Yang tweeted - saying it was the greatest video he’s ever seen: https://twitter.com/AndrewYang/status/1222736120930295808

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7crf0mzhws

10:22am

I finally got frustrated enough to return a phone call to book an echocardiogram. It seemed now that the pain is lower, allowing the frustration to build was easier — and then I could turn that into action much easier than prior to the Cayman Islands treatment. Making this call was a relatively low stress, unloaded decision toward action - compared to say the reason behind and how loaded making an appointment requiring a trip to an eye specialist, researcher in Boston, who I was recommended to make an appointment with - that has a lot of weight, resistance behind it - which I won’t go into reasoning for, having stopped me so far from booking an appointment with him.

Why I need an echocardiogram is part of determining a possible diagnosis of EDS — “Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS) is a disease that weakens the connective tissues of your body. These are things like tendons and ligaments that hold parts of your body together. EDS can make your joints loose and your skin thin and easily bruised. It also can weaken blood vessels and organs.” It seems I have enough symptoms that it’s possible I do. There were two people that suggested it — a person online I briefly messaged with, and then one of the doctors at the stem cell clinics — whereby they were trying to help me problem solve why I report a much higher pain for tissue damage, some of which they can see in imaging, however that I report more highly than they’d expect. I will eventually write in detail about this.

I just realized, as part of an experiment, that reading along while I type helps keep my mind focused, on track, for what I’m writing about — noticing that trying to think to allow fluid flow of thought to continue if not looking could work — simply trying to remember what I just said in order to continue typing without looking — is at least impossible for me at this point, maybe a skill that can be developed or not; it wouldn’t be a useful skill unless someone like me was trying to problem solve how to find ways to reduce the issues related to the post-LASIK pain, some of which I theorize in part has to do — gets triggered more with use of the eyes, the surface and tension changes of the eye has focal distance (and other) changes, from near to far, etc.

11:04am

I think paying to have a space for me to work, a cowering space, would be good for me socially - outside of my current primary destination to be around people, busyness, distractions of Balzac’s cafe. I was reminded, had memories arise, a few weeks ago when I was in a Lyft shared ride that ended up going down around the Queen and Spadina area. I was reminded of the time spent in a coworking space I started working out of with my then new girlfriend and business partner I brought into helping me with I Live Yoga - in particular with outreach and support. Along with the memories were the feelings of good experiences that were able to make it up through the new level of reduced pain from my last stem cell treatment. It made me think at the time that I’d like to get back to that place. At the time I was still unsure, doubtful if I’d ever be able to get there, get back to the point where Anastasia and I were excited about life, in a good routine, working and passionate about a project we both loved — and that was ready to start scaling; my physical pain had started to become too much for me to handle however, and though I struggled to keep things going, at one point I had to give up — let go. The relationship with Anastasia ended and psychologically it was very difficult to let my “baby” go — as is often referred to as an entrepreneur’s project — especially since for at least a year I was using the project as a mental distraction, focus for the pain. I kept trying and essentially being reminded that it was too hard, and then making bad decisions. Ultimately it was the last try two big attempts to keep ILY alive and moving forward, to find to find good, capable people to move ILY forward without much guidance from me were: 1) attempted to hire someone to takeover Anastasia’s role of outreach and support, and 2) hire a local designer — who ultimately took $5,000 from me, an initial deposit out of a first section of work worth $10,000, and ended up doing barely any work. I will eventually write in more detail about this: I will name her as well as a consequence of consequences that lasting forever — karma — until they are righted, or ignored, and then light can be shone for those who pay attention to me — highlighting that this is how this person conducts themselves. These consequences, bad, hurtful behaviour lacking integrity or simply exposing unskilled or underdeveloped behaviour — where a point of learning is the opportunity presenting itself, if only for a safe container was present to allow it. This karma, consequences, trickle through time — allowing for multi-generation dis-ease progression in all aspects of life. Karma is still playing out and trickling through society, our energies, frequencies, decisions — from major suffering and events such as Nazi Germany and every new suffering starts a new ripple that will all need to be addressed. It must all be addressed by individuals. This allows for healing to happen in a decentralized manner — and allows for people at different parts of dis-ease or on path towards healing, enlightenment — being enlightened, developing understanding and compassion — and so even those who may be repressed in places like China, the light will make it through the cracks — which all rigid containers will increasingly have as pressure mounts; whether that is your ego mind’s control, guard of “protecting” you from fear/trauma and scarcity mindset, or a nation state who wants to contain what knowledge and information is spreading; these are both a condition, a dis-ease state, a symptom of ego mind’s greed and control going unchecked within oneself.

When I have kept my movement and activity greatly limited as I still must, I am able likewise to get glimpses and enjoyment at the thought for a goal I had roughly a decade ago: to be leading yoga classes, to further develop my own yoga practice and to guide others to teach them what I learned — also developing my own skill of speaking and holding space while actively guiding people in the present moment.

Someday I’d like to find and be able to afford, and be able to handle the added activity of going to (or perhaps they could travel to me?), singing lessons — so I can improve, develop my voice, for a growing list playlist that I’ve entitled New Life that I’ve been building mostly for motivation, a reminder that I at times have played multiple times daily as a distraction from the pain.

I’d also like to learn basketball, so if I ever decide it necessary to run for Prime Minister of Canada to get Canada on course, then I’d challenge current Presidential candidate Andrew Yang to - and kick his ass - in a game of basketball; a more physical activity that I may never be able to do again however — so I’ll just have to enjoy the thought of being able to hangout with Yang.

11:41am

I still have strong emotional resistance (PTS) to diving into and finishing an update reply for Dr. Trotter on behalf of Taylor. I don’t know if I will get to it today - there’s ultimately no real rush as she’s in hospital and he only returns from vacation a week from now. I need to recover further and be in the healthiest, low activity level, routine again for at least a few days before I will be able to approach the task again.

11:47am

I can quite clearly now feel, notice, that while I have been wearing my reading glasses when writing and on my laptop — I just picked up my phone and was looking, writing some texts, and as I did so — with the straining or even just putting things into focus, that the eye pain very clearly increased as I was doing so; this to me confirms to me, a theory I’ve had over these years especially when my pain level was much higher, that the post-LASIK pain has created an aversion to my eyes working properly, normally, a resistance to changing focal points (as part of the symptoms, part of it disrupting autonomous function including tearing, moisturizing, of the eyes — that LASIK has been successful in dumbing down, minimizing, their #1 symptom of “dry eye syndrome” as something you can just use moisturizing drops as the solution to it); te regulatory capture and unquestioned loyalty or review by the industry and professionals in the field, incentivized by profits, is disturbing - and one of many issues that society must actively become better acknowledging — identifying, studying, paying attention to in order to develop industry-wide critical thinking in all practitioners involved.

1:21pm

I’m starting to allow myself again to checkout attractive women. I guess I’m ready to experiment again to see if the reduced pressure on my nervous system allows me better to manage sexual energy building, and unfolding as that does into emotions and managing of relationships of more potential intensity, emotionally and physical activity wise. Maybe I will start playing with the idea of dating again, making plans with potential partners; an “exciting” idea however one I have had to drop previously the last few attempts due to the pain level still being too high.

1:34pm

I decided I may fast today. That would allow me to — after being tired and mentally exhausted from Balzac’s — to go to Bampot Teahouse and hopefully stay there for a few more hours before I’d otherwise be hungry. It’d also help to more quickly clear the inflammation I caused from the sugar/junk I ate yesterday. If I do this I’ll take the probiotic tonight at minimum.

1:50pm

My body energy is quite low at the moment though — primarily I think as I’m likely out of a ketogenic state, so it might be a good idea to eat something tonight to let my body recover faster anyway.

January 31, 2020

Summary of yesterday:

The day that had become positive, later in the day, after my mental energy being exhausted - grounding me into my body and the pain, the eye pain - knocked me back down to reality again. I can’t date. The exciting ideas or plans for ideas are fantasy. I was reminded that even if I have a very productive or positive day then the next few days when my mental energy is lower, it’s more difficult to impossible to concentrate enough to distract myself from the pain. This last stem cell treatment, as predicted as the pattern has continued, allowed me to feel the eye pain more clearly, feel how it cascades and refer down my body more easily.

I don’t know how I am even going to afford my own cost of living soon, let alone the idea of paying additionally to have a coworking space to work out - as an alternate to Balzac’s cafe that I am bored of going to so often, for so long. And I still don’t have a routine that makes life tolerable. Streaming at night can be nice, however it is mentally exhausting itself. The Joe Rogan style podcast I had thought could be a nice thing to do to socialized, meet people, and chat regularly hasn’t gotten setup and I wouldn’t be able to organize and manage it anyway. Likewise the money I’ve had to spend on stem cell treatments and will continue to need to spend indefinitely on unknown future diagnostics or future treatments is money that originally I had wanted to use to move my projects forward. Ideally I could raise $420k to hire contract workers to help me finish designs and specifications to then find developers to get estimates from - but developing a presentation and putting in the ground work to reaching out, meeting with, family offices to get them onboard and convince them of my plan: $420k, $4.2mm, $42mm rounds and sharing a high detailed plan for each along with an executive summary - the presentation itself will be difficult for me to compile, and then the ground work, leg work necessary, will certainly be too difficult for me due to the highly limited activity I must maintain in order to have more than less tolerable days.

Feb 2, 2020

Summary of yesterday:

I was planning originally to make a “summary of yesterday” - yesterday, but it didn’t happen. It was overall a bad day to which I was just waiting for 4pm when two designer friends, Akshay and Salar, were supposed to come over. They eventually made their way to me around 6pm. It was or wasn’t a very productive meeting. The purpose was to try to help onboard their help so I can try to move my projects forward, in part to decide a path, a strategy for what to focus on - for where they could help me and for where I could try to focus and use my limited mental energy to hopefully guide them towards helping move things forward at a pace that allows me hope.

I don’t know how much to share from the meeting. I don’t want to get lost, summarizing points from last night - of which there are two recordings of to hopefully review at some point for reminders, lost in that my mental focus gets spent where I can no longer conclude this to a point where I am “comfortable” publishing it - where I don’t concern myself of sharing “too much” that leads me to wanting to expand on what I mean, without having to continue a thought by injecting a relatable quote like “first they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win” for how grandeur my vision has evolved to; Gandhi, and as you may be able to tell, I like and tend towards being thorough - it’s a challenge until it will become a gift.

Feb 4, 2020

The hardest part to sharing my experience is that when it is most difficult it is most difficult to share about the difficulty. And perhaps as a natural fail-safe prevention mechanism, if I am to pass there are certain things I want left a certain way, however completing them, organizing them with how difficult the pain already disables me from doing so easily is even worse when I have lost hope and am struggling and too stuck in the pain, and so the final 3 or 4 things I hope to have organized before I go haven’t really been able to get done. I am at the point now where I will just let go and forgive myself for not articulating what should be to expose certain fights for what is wrong in systems in society.

I just got 1 of 5 things done - sent an email as final attempt to try to find someone trustworthy to help my mom finish her house so she has a peaceful place for retirement. 2 of 5 will be posting this. 3 of 5 will be emailing a naturopath with an update re: Taylor although I am no longer hopeful she will have a container that will actually lead her to problem solving her issues, so unlikely anything will come from it. 4 of 5 will be briefly updating long form version of Taylor story. 5 of 5 is trying to compile what I can about the post-LASIK eye pain, what I have tried to heal my body including the eye pain, and how the eye pain has remained the constant and the majority cause of the executive function troubles I have - as has become more and more obvious as I have healed significant pain in the rest of my body nearing having likely more than 10 stem cell treatments now over the last 3+ years; something I would hope to share with the Boston eye doctor/researcher, with the lawyer who filed the Canadian class action lawsuit against LASIK and the doctor who did my surgeries, and in general for the community in general and perhaps the “Lasik Complications Support Group” on Facebook - so maybe anything that I tried would give them insight into what might help them or perhaps help problem solve a solution.

Aside from trying to get these final 5 things written, I no longer am going to attempt to write anything regarding to who would get my business projects, life’s work - Elon Musk and Dr. Jordan Peterson can share ownership if either of them wants my domains, designs, what I’ve written and so on; likely not because they are compiled well enough to transfer - though they would together both be most competent at understanding the ecosystem of platforms, holistic scale, and multidisciplinary health-wellness approach of my plans. I also no longer am going to attempt to fill out a form that is prerequisite to trying MDMA-assisted psychotherapy - a hope I had that maybe it would reduce stress in my body enough to make the pain more tolerable, however I am quite certain it is the ongoing, constant, trauma from the eye pain - though certainly it has made these past years also full of trauma. I am just trying to get myself to an appointment Feb 19th to try AmbioDisk for my right eye, and then to get to 2 more stem cell treatments in San Francisco - however it is difficult to even bother trying to hold on to get to those because the AmbioDisk, if my eye can tolerate it, will only help while wearing it - and it will be a brutal, impossibly strong reminder once I have to expose my eye to air again, and the stem cell treatments though they will reduce pain in my body again - that, as every other time as resulted in, will result in my just feeling the eye pain more clearly, and how it refers out and sensitizes my body.

Feb 5, 2020

One reason I don’t want to actually post this is due to the large amount of explanation that hasn’t happened, describing everything I have tried, all the failures of our healthcare system - especially our “mental health” system - and still where no one has offered me an opiate prescription, so aside from having taken them post stem cell treatments for a few days - I don’t know if long-term it would make the pain and limited function tolerable enough to not constantly be struggling. Having, trying to explain over and over and over again over the years to different doctors, answering the same line of questions over and over and over again - never really getting much deeper into actually problem solving or trying to provide treatment options that may help. I am just done with this Canadian health “care” system - no one is going to know the true extent of incompetence, how broken it is, I don’t see myself being around to write about it. I will try to post the “Saving Taylor” post and update so there is a public record of it, 100% chance it won’t change anything unless someone actively pushes for investigation and change for oversight and accountability.

This is how much I normally struggle, at least 50% of the time I am trying to dredge at the bottom, where it’s dark - but regardless of how well I stick to a routine, to limiting my activity, to eating cleanly, to optimizing to have mental energy to counter the physical pain - to counter the disruption from the eye pain and the executive dysfunction it causes, the baseline dysfunction caused by the eye pain hasn’t improved in years, there is no routine or baseline that is tolerable; the two times the eye pain did permanently improve some with each treatment - first with autologous serum eye drops and then ProKera I did for each eye - the noticeable permanent reduction still wasn’t significant enough; and temporarily the Scleral lenses to be worn for only periods throughout the day, the dramatic executive function improvement I had with them, was impossible to maintain with that relief and function improvement contrasted each day at the end of the day when I had to re-expose my eyes to the air, triggering the pain again fully, and rapidly experiencing the cascading of symptoms - the mental disruption and the tension, sensitization, referring and building through my body; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scleral_lens

The other up to 50% is when I am delusional enough with hope, optimism, waiting for the next “big” stem cell treatment - in fantasy once tricking myself again that maybe this next healing will be different than the previous ones: where maybe my nervous system will reach a tipping point where the impact of the eye pain will greatly diminish due to enough pressure, pain, being removed from my nervous system. It never has happened though. This is where I am in a routine where I am not yet again bored of rotating through different social media sites - Twitter, Reddit - along with some other technology-related news sites, forums. This is when I am not yet completely bored of distracting myself with watching streamers on Twitch or watching YouTube videos. Days when I am in a routine and in a positive enough mood to enjoy and try to engage socially, in a routine going to Balzac’s cafe - taking a Lyft shared ride there and home again. The problem is nothing can actually move forward from this routine and routine itself is flawed in that boredom exists and that routine can’t really change due to the limitations the pain keeps me within; I can go out for stimulation, people watching, but there’s no gain in “teasing” myself if letting myself notice attractive women - teasing myself by allowing myself to think about dating or sex or anything nice, any of the creature comforts that come from relationships of various depths or intensity.

Cost is another factor. The money I have access to currently won’t last forever - and even if appointments like acupuncture or osteopathy would net positive, which I’m still not sure they are which I won’t explain here - at the moment when mostly going to those appointments via public transit, that amount of activity - the additional physical stress on my body on top of the stress the eye pain constantly applies, certainly counters most of the benefit from those appointments; likewise, acupuncture which I only did 3 or 4 weeks ago, and hadn’t done it for likely 2 years prior, allowed me to just feel my right eye pain as strongly and as clearly as I had ever been able to feel it - a strong, searing, burning sensation over the whole cornea that lastly as strongly for the next 8 hours - that searing sensation only diminishing as it slowly sensitized the rest of my body, just meaning it prevented me from properly perceiving it - but not reducing the executive dysfunction symptom. If I am in the better side of the difficult cycle then I regularly, daily, listen to my “New Life” play list - and often listen through the more somber but pleasant Jardim album by Rainer Scheurenbrandt; https://rainerscheurenbrand.bandcamp.com/album/jardim

I’ve written so many times about this pattern over the years, I hate writing about it now too - and why I am now struggling to even bother trying to get myself to a Boston eye doctor/research I was suggested to go to - however after the effort and cost of traveling to Boston, the being out of routine to not look forward to causing additional turbulence in my life the following 3-4 days, and after the $1300 USD cost, just starting cost, there is near 100% chance that no insights nor new treatment option that will come of it; it seems that I also know of stem cell research being conducted in the US that the main plaintiff in the Canadian class action lawsuit doesn’t know about, therefore nor does the lawyer, and likely also not this Boston eye doctor/researcher the plaintiff recommended I see - I’m guessing they don’t know about the mice/rat research from years ago either, the results of are which the human trials are being fast tracked in India; turns out the plaintiff who recommended me to see the Boston eye doctor/researcher hasn’t even gone to see him himself.

There has just been no point in continuing with trying to keep myself positive, optimistic - for as difficult as it is - once I am “flying” in it well enough, life can’t improve - relationships can’t evolve, I can’t move forward more in life. There’s been no point when letting myself mentally get excited about my projects or ideas to fix all of these broken systems - it just causes there to be more pressure, a stronger aversion to fight against, the pain to fight more strongly against - and trying to use executive function to try to move those ideas forward in any capacity, just the attempt adding pressure/stress - and then the potential consequences of trying to find others or spending money to hire others to do an uncertain but large amount of work necessary, is a lot - and certainly more than I am reasonably capable of handling, and even if I had the financial resources to hire and manage a team to do the work - managing would likely be too stressful as well; https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=21885586

I’ve tried twice now from different places in the last 8 months to get a referral for someone to speak to to see if the pain having been reduced as much as it has, if there was any value in talk therapy. Still haven’t heard anything back re: an appointment - though I was doubtful anyway that the physical cost of going to the appointment would result in net benefit anyhow.

And there’s nothing more I can do to help Taylor - the system isn’t going to be able to hold the safe container she needs - other than trying to send an update to her naturopath re: trying to problem solve her gut pain and nausea (that psychiatric doctors haven’t cared about nor understood the dis-ease progression consequences of for years), so I don’t have that hope or drive for effort to try to distract myself with any longer either; I don’t understand how psychiatry got a monopoly on hospitalizations, not only a monopoly but an exclusionary monopoly - where there's no requirement to work with other fields/disciplines, how isn't this considered or acknowledged to be neglectful by default, by design?

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unboundpen · 5 years

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Pandemonium [2/3]

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Fandom: Batman

Characters: Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, batfam appearances

Pairing: JayDami

Rated: T

Warnings: Damian is aged up, should be in college.

Summary:

In which Damian is way too oblivious and Jason suffers.

Read on AO3

A/N: So I haven’t picked up a DC comic since Damian died in Nu52 timeline. So everyone in the batfam follows pre-Nu52 here.

Tonight there was something off about the kid. They'd hit a dead end with their case yet again, but Robin was more annoyed to have that happen. Usually, he would be fine with calling it a night or go off to patrol on his own if it was early. Red Hood would often join him if the kid decided to stick around his part of the city. Even now, as Jason surveys the scene before him, it isn't very hard to see that the kid was using more force than necessary. More than necessary for Batman, not enough for Red Hood. But hey, he was trying to work within the limitations he was given. If Robin wants to break more bones than needed, then that was his prerogative.

However, with hours of fighting bad guys, Jason can tell Robin was going to run himself ragged. It was nearly two in the morning, and Red Hood had only jumped in to help once. Robin's stamina was impressive and his fighting was always exhilarating to watch, but even now, when the last baddie drops to the ground, Jason can tell that the kid was going to get hurt if he continued like this.

Any protests Robin gives him are ignored and only cease once they're in one of Batman's safe houses, one with a communal shower, and clothes and within walking distance of Jason's favorite diner in the city.

"I don't see any reason why we have to go out for food, Todd," Damian glowers across the booth at Jason

After the two of them had showered and changed, Jason had dragged the kid back out into the night for some grub.

"Can it, Babybat. I'm willing to bet if I had sent you on your way back to the manor, you'd be a lot worse than you are now."

Damian shakes his head, now glaring at his menu that was laying flat on his table. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Jason sighs before taking a long, noisy sip of his milkshake. Damian takes the straw covering Jason had removed, and fiddles with it, eventually rolling it into a ball.

"Must you?" The kid growls.

The older man savors the taste of his milkshake, smacking his lips, "Must I what? Drink my shake like how I'm supposed to?"

Before the Damian could make a comeback, a shadow casts over them. “Decided on what you want to order, sonny?”

“Onion rings and French toast with extra powdered sugar. I also request an empty ketchup container with my food, thank you.” Damian’s tone is cold while he hands the menu to their server and then slouches against the window with his arms crossed, looking pensive as he looks out into the city night.

“Don’t mind him, Merv,” Jason says to the big guy, “Kid’s in a mood.”

The other guy chuckles, “No worries at all. I get all walks of life at this time. Believe it or not, your friend there is part of the better half.”

Jason raises his glass to him, “Well, you’re always good company.”

“You have to say that for the milkshakes.”

“Best in the city, Merv, best in the city. Better yet add two more shakes to the order."

Jason smiles brilliantly while their server walks away to get started on their order. His eyes slide back to his companion him study him. “Wanna know how I came across this place?”

“Not particularly.”

“It was sometime in the fall of the year I turned sixteen,” Jason continues, completely ignoring Damian’s snide answer, “after having one too many arguments with B, figured I needed more time to cool off.”

“Let me guess, you walked past and decided to come in for food?”

Jason taps his glass patiently, “Nope, now don’t interrupt story time. Anyways, I was getting into fights just like you were doing tonight, just not as Robin -all in civvies. Got into a nasty fight with one baddie in particular and we just so happened to be trading blows right outside of this place. Guy got ahold of me and actually threw me through the same window behind me.” His right-hand goes up to point a thumb at the booth behind him.

Damian’s eyes flicker past Jason’s shoulder with intrigue then looks back at him, sitting up straight.

“My arms were pretty cut up, this one especially,” Jason flexed the fingers of the same hand that he had used to point, “So I couldn’t get a good hit on the other guy, who was pretty much pummeling my face at that point. Hurt like a bitch, but I didn’t pass out. Merv was actually the one that pulled him off of me and turned him into the police. He was gonna hand me over too but saw that I was just a kid. So he sat me down at the counter, handed me a shake and patched my arms up. Turns out he worked medical during the Korean War.”

Damian, at that point, was giving Jason a skeptical look, “What about the window?”

“I got B to pay for it and hire some quick workers to replace it. Technically, he was the one responsible. Wouldn’t have broken that window if he wasn’t on my case about everything that night. I’d come in from time to time, help out Merv if the place was swamped with customers or help clean tables and sweep the floor, but eventually, it was the milkshakes that got me coming back.”

Merv comes back with their orders, setting Damian’s steaming plate of French toast before him and the onion rings next to it. The shakes come clinking in after, this time in front of Jason. “Enjoy,” he states before moving to a booth that had called him over.

Jason takes a meaningful sip as he watches Damian primly cut his French toast in strips with a fork and knife then reaches over to take the syrup container and pour its contents into the empty ketchup container he asked for. Jason’s eyebrows raise up when Damian takes a strip and starts dunking it.

Hmm.

Elbow on the table and chin in hand, Damian takes a bite.

“So, Bruce issues?”

The kid looks up at Jason with a blank expression as he chews.

“Look, as an experienced veteran of navigating through the complicated waters of your dad’s disapproval, it’s not that hard to figure out that he’s the source of all of your…this.” He gestures to all of Damian.

“That was quite...poetic of you, Todd, but if it’s all the same to you, I would prefer not to talk about it right this second.”

Jason holds up both hands in surrender with a bitter smile, “Hey I get it. I’m not Dick. Sometimes talking makes it worse if you’re not up for it. I’m just here to keep you company and for when you are ready to talk about it. In the meantime,” Jason slides one of the milkshakes across, “unwind and enjoy the food."

And for the rest of the night, they eat in comfortable silence. This was nice. Jason wouldn’t mind getting used to doing something like this on a more frequent basis. For the most part, living on his own left him craving companionship. It’s also why he had Kori and Roy as teammates. They were two of the most affectionate people he knew, aside from Dick.

From there his thoughts wander, how would they feel about him potentially being with Damian? Better yet how would they interact with the demon spawn overall. Now that would be a very interesting thing to witness.

xXx

It's been about two months, closing in on three, of them working together on this case and Jesus Lord Almighty, Jason was frustrated in every conceivable way. Yes, there is the never-ending sexual frustration -which he doesn't even want to delve into right now, lest he gives himself continual blue balls...again- but he's aware that this thing he had for Damian was going further than just sexual attraction. It's so bad that he's so close to swan diving off of one of the bridges in the city.

But no, that would be the easy way out, and while he was lazy for the most part, this wasn't something he was trying to half-ass. Especially with how fucking clueless Damian was with everything he's been doing. If Jason did anything subtle, it went over the kid's head.

Jason has to resort to his biggest move. Yeah, it’s gotten that bad. So here he was, on a slow day, and arms full of groceries, walking up the steps of the manor, per Alfred's request. He would reach down to get his own set of keys, but why struggle when the doorbell was a lot more accessible.

Jason didn't have to wait long for the door to open, and who was at the door but none other than the owner of the manor.

"Jason?"

The look of surprise on Bruce's face was something the younger man appreciated. There were a few things that could take Bruce Wayne by surprise, and even less for Batman.

"Uh yeah, just here to..." Jason fumbles over the next few words in his head.

To get your son to like me by cooking him his favorite foods so that hopefully I can get in his pants?

"Get a few recipes off of Alfred," he finishes slowly.

Bruce's face relaxes back into neutral and holds the door a bit wider so Jason can enter. Half of the bags are taken from his arms as Bruce shuts the door, and they make their way to the kitchen.

Bruce hums in reply, "How's the case going? Damian hasn't said much on it."

"Because there isn't much to say to be honest. We're looking into any leads we come across along with stakeouts on their warehouse." Which was true, yeah they have the location for drug storage, but they weren't searching for the drugs. It was the child trafficking Jason was trying to put a stop to. Old habits of some of the criminals on his side had resurfaced while Jason was away. Five months of operation may not seem like much, but that's still one too many kids out there.

Bruce nods as they enter the kitchen and places the food on the island, which Jason copies. Then they just kinda stand there, the air turning awkward. Jason's skin starts to crawl from the way Bruce is not so secretly studying him. While their relationship may have gotten better, this stagnant air between them would always be the norm when they weren't talking about something related to crime fighting.

"Hey, I'll be making enough for everyone in the manor, probably even more than that. So you can let the others know if you want." There, now he can claim that he tried.

Jason would be lying if he said he wasn't blinded by Bruce's sudden smile. And just like that, Jason was brought back to the more happier times of his teenhood. Jason wasn’t an exception to the need for approval from Bruce Wayne. There was a reason why once you’re a part of the batfam, no one can never really leave. You become hooked and once you're flying high on it, he can take it all away for weeks, even months. However, another result is actually leaving for a time. Dick, Jason (obviously), Tim, Cass, and Steph, even Babs. They had all left at some point, but even from those breaks, the wash of Bruce’s approval was imprinted. Jason had fought that instinct for so hard and so long that all his relationships would never go back to what they were. Eventually, everyone comes back to try and coexist with it.

It was only a matter of time before Damian had to pass through the final leg of this long endured initiation into the batfam. But to Jason, he hopes that the kid can maintain this somewhat decent relationship with his father.

“The last time everyone was here for a family dinner was Thanksgiving three years ago.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise, “Everyone?”

Bruce nods confidently, “Barbara is visiting, Stephanie is back for spring break, and Cassandra -as I’m sure you’re aware- has moved back almost half a year ago.”

“Oh wow, full house tonight.”

The older man looks wistful. Jason watches Bruce get that far off look, where he can only imagine how Bruce’s ideal family dinner unfolds. Thankfully, Alfred chooses that exact time to push through the kitchen’s swinging door.

“Well then,” Bruce clears his throat, broken out of his reverie, “I guess I better tell everyone else to stay for dinner.”

“Splendid idea, sir,” Alfred responds smoothly then turns to Jason as soon as Bruce leaves the room. “I’ve taken the liberty of pulling out the recipes we shall be using tonight. Although, I do have to say this may be a bit…much.”

Alfred pulls out a stack of index cards from his coat pocket with an amused look. Jason whistles, “The kid likes to eat.”

Alfred places the stack on the island, “To be fair, Master Jason, you did say all the food he likes. That is a very broad guideline to go by.”

The younger man grins and starts to take everything out of their bags. “Would it help if I said his favorites then?”

Alfred taps the pile thoughtfully, “That does cut this down considerably…."

Jason stops moving and steals a glance at Alfred who was studying him. He was somewhat prepared for the questioning that may have come with the request, he just wasn’t prepared for it this early. He was hoping that he would be busy prepping at least.

“Is there a particular reason why we are only cooking food palatable to Master Damian?”

“Not really.” Yes, yes he is very aware just how higher pitched that sounded.

Alfred lifts an amused eyebrow at Jason, but the younger man does not budge. A moment of silence later and the butler concedes with a sigh, “Very well then, Master Jason. Shall we get started?”

xXx

Jason had to say that this dish was the most unique thing he’s ever attempted. This was apparently Damian’s favorite by far, and the whole recipe was copied down word for word straight from the kid’s mouth. And according to Alfred, that was from the first night Damian started living with them. Oxblood was something he never would have expected to cook in his lifetime. However, the smell was pretty appetizing.

That was one conversation he attempted with Damian on one of their nights together. Considering that the kid had gone vegetarian, was he going so far as to go vegan? The answer had been that the kid was not opposed to eating meat if they were killed humanely and all body parts were used, but considering that this was a hard thing to keep track for each and every animal, vegetarian was the easier option for now.

When I was younger, mother had a specialty soup made with oxblood. Thankfully, Pennyworth has a source where the animals are not killed for it.

So like donating blood to eat, interesting. What about lab-grown meat?

-Tt- I've tried the impossible burger. If they make lab-grown meat without it tasting like liver, then I will consider it an option.

He gives the stew one final stir and then covers it to let it simmer. He sidesteps to the setup beside the stove and picks up where he left off. Alfred had left him to deal with the manor’s laundry. Considering that the manor was almost at full capacity, it would be a while before the butler came back. But before Jason could get lost in the motions of making dolmas, there was some commotion outside one of the two doors to the kitchen.

“Alfred is definitely cooking up a feast. I wonder why-”

The door swings open and in walk Dick, Tim, and Cassandra, with Dick and Tim freezing at the sight of Jason standing there surrounded by steam, hands full of lab-grown meat filling, and covered in an almost frilly apron. For a moment, he freezes too. Of course, Bruce had said everyone was here, but another thing he did not mentally prepare for was actually interacting with his siblings until dinner.

“Not Alfred,” the second eldest in the room states and sidles up comfortably next to Jason. That wasn’t much to go by since they were about the same age anyway. She uncovers the oxblood soup and basks in the smell before she takes up stirring.

Tim is the first of the other two men to unfreeze, inspecting Jason’s handwork while walking up to the island.

“Soooo,” Tim drags that word on for a bit, “what’s the occasion?”

Jason, without missing a beat, places his finished dolma onto the forming stack located slightly to the left. “You don’t gotta worry your head about that.”

He hopes that he looks at least collected on the outside, but his nervousness rises as he watches Tim look around, studying all the food that Jason had made or was preparing. It wouldn’t be long before he figured out what Jason was doing, and he curses the kid for it.

Dick, the last to recover, follows Tim and sits at one of the bar stools opposite of Jason and Cassandra.

“It’s sort of a big deal when it’s you that’s cooking, Jay,” Dick says, reaching over to pluck one of the piping hot potstickers out from the steam basket.

“Hah!… Hah,” Dick breathes through his mouth while he fans at his face.

Tim nods in agreement, ignoring Dick’s sounds of pain. “This all seems to be Dami-”

Jason coughs loudly, catching Cassandra’s small smile of amusement. She’d probably already deduced it too.

“Maybe I just got tired of the taste of beer and ramen every night,” he spouts, then directs his gaze to the woman standing next to him who had taken a spoon to taste the soup, “Cass had the right idea, you guys could make yourselves useful and help me out with these. Ah, except you Dickie-bird, you’re fine right there. Just don’t eat everything.”

Tim shrugs, not objecting before he washes his hands and takes one of the wooden cutting boards from a shelf. The smaller man situates himself on the other side of Jason, who had rearranged the station so the growing pile of dolmas, the grape leaves, and the filling were between them.

“And why can’t I help?” Dick whines, once he manages to swallow a bit of the food in his mouth.

“Because you burn what you cook.” Jason doesn’t hold back the laugh that comes tumbling out of his mouth. Cassandra’s childlike bluntness always took him by surprise while Dick’s pout was just the additional cherry on top. The eldest takes another and suffers through the burning sensation, much to everyone's amusement.

"You remember that Damian is vegetarian right?" He says once he's able to talk again.

"It's made in a lab."

"No kidding?" Dick holds it up into the light like it was a diamond to inspect it, "It tastes like it's real pork. He's okay with that?"

Jason shrugs, "I mean technically, it still is pork. As long as it doesn't taste like liver, he should be cool with it."

And then Jason shows Tim how to prepare one before they fall into an easy silence. He had made about five different dishes for tonight, with this batch being the last of it. The thing was he had already steamed a lot that the leftover ingredients were for him to take home and prepare for himself and a few for Alfred to make at a later date.

After about half an hour of Dick eating half a dozen potstickers, Cass sampling the other dishes, and Tim obsessively making sure that the grape leaves were secure (Jason has to admit that the atmosphere was actually really pleasant), he sees a flash of light across the room followed by the distinct sound of a shutter flash.

Whispers and giggling coming from the other side of the door before the culprits burst through. Barbara wheels herself in followed by a grinning Stephanie Brown, her wrist flicking in the air as she fans the polaroid she just took.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Just need the two actual Waynes in here and then it’ll be a true reunion.”

“It’s a sight to see when Jason is the one that’s cooking. What would be even better is if Dick actually manages to make something without ruining it that isn't cereal,” Barbara teases.

“Ouch, Babs.” Dick gives her a weak smile.

“Well,” Stephanie singsongs, coming around to be beside Cassandra to hip bump the other woman, “she ain’t wrong there, Dick.”

Dick grabs one of the cooled potstickers he had plucked out and handed it over to Barbara, which she takes thankfully. “Alright, that’s three against three.”

“Actually,” Tim cuts in, “make that four.”

Jason nods, “Five.”

“Aw, screw all of you,” Dick shoots back without malice.

Stephanie frowns at the pot in front of Cassandra. “Uh, Jay, you do know that Damian and Cass are the only ones that really eat this, right?”

“No worries, there’s plenty of other food.”

“Yeah about that,” Tim starts.

“-all of this stuff is what Dami likes to eat,” Stephanie interjects.

Jason goes still, avoiding eye-contact with all of his bat-siblings, then rolls his eyes upward and counts the tiny speckles on the ceiling tiles. The underlings of the Greatest Detective in the world...of course, one of them was bound to say it out loud. His skin really starts to itch from everyone's eyes on him. Once he finally gathers the nerve to look around, the range of expectant faces overwhelms him and he feels his face start to heat up. Gone were the familiar conflicting emotions on some of their faces, which made his chest tight from giddiness?

Welp, that was new.

“You guys could set the table,” he grits out.

None of them move, much less say anything. And fuck, Jason knows he can’t avoid not talking.

“This is to say thanks for helping out with the case we’ve been working on.” Even now it sounds really weak to his ears.

Babs crosses her arms under her chest and gives him a pointed look over her glasses, “There’s gotta be more than that, or else you’d have been cooking our favorite meals for ALL of us for a while now.”

“Yeah, last I checked, I didn’t get a homemade meal courtesy of the Red Hood-” Stephanie gasps and clasps her hands to her mouth, eyes comically going wide at Jason. The raven-haired beauty between her and Jason gives an imperceptible nod, while Tim’s grin grows sharp within Jason’s peripheral.

Jason swears and wipes his hands on his apron roughly. He turns around to get the pot he used earlier and turns back with a not so subtle bang on the counter to Dick and Barbara leaning in a lot closer than before, unflinching at the sound.

“Why can’t you guys mind your own damned business?” He puts the prepped dolmas into the pot none too gently.

Dick has his head in his hands, staring intently at Jason. “The only time I’ve ever seen you cook food was for that one girl that came over for dinner when you were a sophomore in high school.”

Babs glances over at Dick with curiosity while Tim finishes his last roll and pops it in next to the one that Jason put, deftly avoiding Jason's jerky movements.

“If I remember correctly, you had this huge crush on her and wanted to impress her with your cooking,” Dick furrows his brows in thought, “but that wouldn’t be right. You don’t like Damian, and you certainly don’t have a…crush…on Damian.”

Dick pauses, then lifts his head off of his hands, locking eyes with Jason, and then straightens in such a way that you'd know he'd been around speedsters for a certain amount of time. “Unless you do have a crush on Damian.”

Jason tries to keep his face neutral, but his silence was answer enough for the rest of them. The air gets thick before all chaos breaks loose. The barrage of voices came from all sides of the room.

“Oh My God, you like Damian?!” “How long have you liked him?” “It was pretty obvious.” “Called it.”

Jason places a plate on top of the food in the pot before he fills it with water. “I do not confirm nor deny having a crush -of all things- on the demon spawn.”

Stephanie pushes away from the island and points at Jason in accusation with the corner of the Polaroid, the picture half-formed, “Oh you so do.”

“There’s no hiding it, Jason.” If Tim’s grin got anymore sharper, Jason could probably use it to chop more vegetables. Jason chuckles at the thought of banging Tim's head on the counter repeatedly but stops when he sees that Dick has not budged at all.

“You,” Dick emphasizes by holding his hands out towards Jason, then he moves them to the side, lost in thought, “and Damian.”

Barbara adjusts her glasses and gives Jason a rueful smile, “Odd pairing, but it makes sense.”

“Right? Your immediate reaction would be like ‘Woah!’ but then if you think about it, they would be good for each other.” Stephanie says with animated hands.

“Fuck. Me.” Jason mutters under his breath.

“Nah, Damian could do that,” Tim counters.

“Or Jason to Damian,” Cassandra adds.

This time Jason snatches a clean towel from the counter and hides his face in it, knowing that it was way beyond the suitable normal color of pale. He hears the loud, ringing smack of a high five behind him, followed by loud giggling from the two.

"I swear, I will shoot each and every one of you in the foot.” Was his towel lessening the threat? Yeah, but it was a better option than looking at any of them at the moment. Then hears a snort from Barbara.

Ah crap,

Poor choice of words, but she was always a good sport when it came to her injury. If there was one thing she was fond of with Jason, it was his anger towards the one that caused them the most hurt. He-who-must-not-be-named, if you will. Yeah, he took that from Harry Potter. Voldemort wasn't the only unspeakable name.

“Is there a reason to be this loud?”

The only person -or well, one of the two people who would have made the situation much worse had stepped in.

“Nothing, no reason at all,” Barbara responds way too quickly for Jason's liking, “Cass, Steph, why don’t you guys help me set the table. Better yet, you two too.”

“Todd?”

Jason sighs and lowers his arms to the sight of the other batsiblings filing out with plates and cutlery, which had been set there by Alfred. They were all abnormally silent but each one of them with shit-eating grins. His gaze slides to Damian whose head was tilted in a questioning manner as his eyes sweep over the scene before him.

“Uh, hey, Damian.”

“What’s all this?”

Jason replaces the pot of oxblood with the pot full of dolmas. “I was getting tired of the taste of my usual recipes,” Jason does a one-shoulder shrug, ignoring the heat of his probably red face, “I figured that since I was here, I may as well cook for everyone.”

The kid’s face was really unreadable.

“With Alfred’s help…of course,” he adds.

Jason’s breath hitches when Damian comes around to his side, peering at what was on the stove. The kid was close enough that Jason could smell what hair product and body soap he had used. It wafts and mixes with the other scents in the kitchen.

While most cologne would counter the scents of the kitchen, the smell of lemongrass is fitting with the smells of the Asian dishes that Jason had cooked up. Jason starts to drown from the kid's presence, his smell, the water droplets that dripped from his hair and trickled down his neck. He gets lost at the thought of following those water trails with his tongue but snaps back to Earth when he hears Damian's voice.

“I doubt you would have much of a taste for seonjiguk.”

“While I do go for the more traditional chili dogs and pizza, I’m not opposed to trying new food.”

Damian hums absently, then reaches down to take the spoon that Cassandra had used to sample the soup with and dips it into the pot to taste. He would have warned the kid about the used spoon, but one, he was still nervous with the kid's close proximity, and two, all of them have shared food with one another that sharing germs wasn't much of a concern anyway. However, he was envious that Cassandra had just shared an indirect kiss with Damian.

Jason balks at the ridiculousness of that thought. Indirect kiss? What was he ten?

"This," the kid starts thoughtfully with a fond smile, "tastes the closest to my mother's."

"I uh-," Jason clears his throat, "made sure to go to Alfred's place so it's ethically to your standards. All the other dishes that have meat in them actually contain lab-grown meat. So those are also ethically safe."

Damian reaches across to get one of the leftover potstickers that Dick left out to cool. Unlike the eldest Robin, he takes a bite into it rather than stuffing the whole thing in his mouth, and Jason almost groans at the sight of the younger man’s lips wrapping around the appetizer. There was a light glistening on Damian’s upper lip from the grease of the filling, and Jason goes cross-eyed when he sees Damian’s tongue follow the trail. It seems his eyes have been doing that every time the kid was around.

Damian takes no notice in Jason's discomfort as he savors the taste with his eyes closed. With each methodical chew, the kid’s face softens.

“Decent.”

“Thanks,” Jason gulps. Two compliments in a row. Jason feels his pride wash over him and his pants go tight until he hunches over in hopes that his pants aren’t tenting that much. God, is the addictive nature of Bruce Wayne’s approval genetic? It had already been a confusing time for Jason and his hormones when he was Robin, but getting turned on from praising words from Damian Wayne?

“Why don’t you help me take the food out to the table?” He suggests, ignoring how gruff his voice sounds.

Damian’s eyes open and it feels like the kid already knows what’s going on, and Jason’s breath catches in his throat.

“You made rice, yes?”

Jason deflates and then snorts, “After the rant that you and Cassandra gave. How could I not remember to?”

Damian nods with no joke. “Good.” Then he takes one of the plates and heads out of the kitchen. Jason sighs and shakes his head then takes deep breaths, trying to calm his beating heart. He knew it was pathetic, but there wasn’t much else to do other than bulldoze forward. And he thought he did pretty well with bulldozing since the kid should have definitely caught wind of Jason’s interest. It was pretty obvious.

He walks around and picks up the sweet and sour eggplant dish.

Maybe he'll see after this family dinner.

xXx

How?! How the fucking how? Three fucking days and not one word, not one inclination that Damian was aware. Hell if he did something obvious, the kid would still not notice. At this rate, he would probably have to kiss the kid to get his feelings across.

The dinner had been torturous, the constant teasing from everyone while Bruce and Damian were oblivious as to why. Well, maybe even then Bruce caught on, but Jason didn’t want to even think about that possibility. The focus was on Damian and this case of course. He can face daddy’s wrath once he gets the kid. And even then that was a very small chance.

But now that all of them knew, they went out of their ways to bring it up as much as possible. Even earlier this evening, he had received several texts within the batkids family chat, with all but Damian in there.

“Hey,” he starts, still laying on his back on the rooftop ledge, even now he knows that his phone is getting messages from the chat. Hell, there probably was a comm-link opened with them plotting several different ways to take him down with embarrassment via his attraction for Damian.

“You ever just think about not being in the gig anymore?”

Robin lowers his binoculars and places the mask in his direction.

“Not at all.”

Jason sits up slowly and pops his back before picking up his cigarette again. "That's gotta be a lie.”

Robin’s lip purse in the thought, then softly, “I was created for this. It is all I’ve known.”

Jason notices the kid's choice of words. Created...not born...

“Come on, Babybat. You have to have some frustrations with being Robin.”

Damian’s cheeks twinge with movement before he turns back to face the warehouse.

“Frustrations, yes, but none that I cannot deal with on my own. They have been new…relatively speaking.”

New frustrations for the kid?

Jason takes in Robin’s frame and notes all the tiny clues: stuttering breathing, rapidly beating pulse and avoiding eye contact. The kid was embarrassed.

Oh.

OH.

Jason swallows with difficulty. “Everyone gets that at one point or another on patrol. Best is to just find release before you start swinging again.”

“I do,” the kid admits quietly.

Oh okay, so he could not breathe properly. Jason can only hear the blood rushing through his veins. And it’s a while before Jason can even utter another word. Maybe now would be the best time? Maybe not? God, would it be creepy if he did?

Fuck it.

“So, I’m just gonna go ahead and say it,” Jason curses under his breath before continuing, and what comes out is just babbling words. “I’ve been doing this for a few weeks now, and it’s like you’re not noticing what exactly I’m doing. It’s obvious, so obvious that everyone else knows. I mean I cooked a dinner of your favorite foods. How is that not hint enough for you? But for Superman’s cape, which mating dance do I have to do for you to realize that I like you?!”

He’ll admit, he does sound hysterical near towards the end there. His chest heaves with the exertion of finally telling the brat outright.

Robin directs his gaze back at Jason. “-Tt- Of course, you like me.”

His mouth drops open, speechless. Wow, that was said so simply. As if it was the most obvious thing. He had to hold back a laugh, a laugh he would have no control over. Oh, it was over! Now was just to wait for the kid’s acceptance or rejection, and if Jason were at all honest with himself, he'd take either option. They were a lot better than Jason continuously up in feelings limbo.

Robin’s lips stretch into a fond, close-lipped smile. “We are partners after all.”

The shock is instant. Jason isn’t sure how the kid could be this clueless. Then the too familiar act of free falling towards the dirty street flows around him. Jason's instincts kick in, with his hands reaching for his grappling gun before shooting it in a random direction. His body flips once more and then jerks with the sudden change of momentum. The gun reels him in, only for Jason to realize that the warehouse was coming in way too quickly, and he struggles to get his other grappling gun to shoot.

BANG

Thank god for the fucking helmet, is his first thought, but then it’s quickly overpowered by a sharp pain in his left shin. While there was a bang from his helmet connecting with the long windows of the warehouse, he vaguely recalls that it was one of his legs connecting with the ledge first. There’s no way he can move right now, however, he feels his arm lifting then a smaller body presses up against his side. Jason feels an arm wrap around his torso before they’re moving upwards.

His eyes closed and all he can just focus on is breathing through the blooming pain. It may also be the growing paranoia, but he thinks his leg is swinging in a place that should not be swinging. Just from that, it takes all his might not to throw up in his helmet.

It was always a bitch to clean whenever that happens.

Pretty soon they land, none too gently, a good 50 rooftops away from their location. The kid was fast on the line.

Jason throws off his helmet and falls onto his palms, leaving no weight on his injured leg, before he starts throwing up. While his pain tolerance was fairly high, unexpectedly (potentially) breaking his bones can get him to upheave his dinner.

Through his retching, Jason hears Robin tsk in disgust beside him. “I did not take you for an easy fainter, 'Hood.”

Jason spits away the bitter taste left in his mouth when his body stops, then wipes away any bile from his lips before he scowls up at Robin. “I didn't faint,” he grits out, maneuvering himself until he’s sitting and blinks away the involuntary tears that come from throwing up.

Robin’s expression screws up in concern, then he crouches down, reaching out for the older man’s leg.

“Don’t touch,” Jason snaps.

The kid frowns, dropping his hand, but keeps crouched next to Jason. “Don’t be even more of an idiot, Red Hood, it may be broken.”

“Oh,” Jason chuckles darkly, “more of an idiot?”

“Yes,” Robin stresses, “your carelessness alerted them of our presence.”

The older vigilante sucks in a breath. Then struggles to his feet, favoring one leg over the other. He notices that Robin stands up with him, but doesn’t try to reach out to help him again. Instead, the kid opts for crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m heading home.”

Robin nods once, “I suppose it would be best to call it a night. Do…Do you need assistance returning home?”

“No, the idiot can manage just fine, thanks.” Jason knows his sarcasm is scathing right now, but he couldn’t care less, even when the kid straight up scowls at him.

“Fine,” Robin responds icily. Then doesn’t wait for Jason to be the first one to leave.

Once Jason is sure that he’s gone, he spends a good minute cursing loudly up at the sky. Of all the outcomes that could have happened, it was just his luck that it would be something like this.

xXx

He could say he is ashamed of how he’s been. After that disastrous confession that made him feel like he was in middle school again and almost breaking his leg, which would have left him out of commission for a good two months -thank god that wasn’t the case, just a very ugly bruise that took up half of his leg- he had not seen the kid since. His phone had been blowing up within the chat group, but instead of light teasing, there were concerned messages all around. After that night, Jason’s mood wasn’t the only one that had turned sour. Sure it may be a petty thing, but it did lighten Jason’s mood knowing that the kid was bothered too.

But after some coaxing from Roy and Kori, Jason had finally mustered up the will to get changed and went to where the kid had texted to meet him. Since this was in a place with a lot of foot traffic, it would have brought them more attention if Jason went out as Red Hood. The kid was probably out undercover too.

Jason rolls his shoulders under the jacket he had chosen for tonight. He muses that this was a jacket he had gotten before his trip to space. Oh well, it’s not like he’s strapped for cash anyway. He makes a mental note to go to proper clothes shopping.

Just then he feels the full force of someone trying to barrel him over. His hands reach up to steady the person and himself. Damian’s scent is what he registers first before he looks down at Damian’s annoyed glare.

Before Damian could say anything, sounds of heavy running came from around the corner. The kid pulls both of them into an alley next to them. It was a bit too forceful of a pull since Damian’s head hits the brick wall hard enough to make his teeth chatter.

The sounds of footsteps get louder.

Damian’s eyes flitter over Jason’s shoulder then zing right back, wide with panic. “Kiss me.”

“What?” Jason blurts out, which gets Damian to roll his eyes before he grips Jason’s shoulders with both hands and pulls him in until Jason feels the surprising softness of Damian’s lips.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

The kiss wasn’t even a kiss by Jason’s standards, it was purely the basic definition of the act. Lips touching lips. And once Jason realized that his eyes shut close from the pure bliss he was enjoying. It was scary that all the worry and bad juju feelings he had for the past week all seems to evaporate. Nonetheless, he lets himself get lost and unconsciously initiates more of the kiss.

The older man hunches over Damian, unconsciously putting all of his weight against the kid, who doesn’t protest at all. This was all too much and happening too fast for Jason’s mind to keep up. The scent of lemongrass and herbs ropes around Jason, binding him that closer to Damian. With every breath he takes through his nose, he gets even more lost. The flat hand above Damian’s head adjusts so Jason’s weight was on his forearm instead, allowing him to completely cover Damian’s body with his own.

Once he’s situated better, Jason angles his head then slowly deepens the kiss. He almost stops when Damian moves underneath him, feeling lithe hands grab fistfuls of his shirt. The anticipation, the expectation of being pushed away, it levels Jason from the weightlessness that is quickly spreading throughout his body. But it never comes. Instead, the kid tentatively kisses back.

Jason knows he’s shaking from the adrenaline. Not like he cares at the moment though. Especially when he can reach up to cup the kid’s neck and jaw. Damian goes rigid for a second, most likely the fighting instincts preparing to attack back, but Jason caresses the kid’s cheek with his thumb.

God, it’s so fucking smooth. If given the chance, Jason could probably keep stroking that spot for hours.

Damian’s hands flatten to palms on Jason’s chest, then slide around Jason’s torso to pull Jason in until they are flush against each other.

Welp, there’s no hiding the erection now.

The kiss is suddenly broken, with Jason following after the kid’s lips for a split second. He inwardly groans. Not opening his eyes at all, he rests his forehead on the hand against the wall. Damian’s ear is right next to mouth, so he’s aware the kid can hear his ragged breathing.

“I believe they are gone now. They saw me around the entrance, hence why I needed you to kiss me.”

Jason takes pleasure in the fact that Damian’s voice was husky.

Wahid

Talatha

“Todd?”

“Give me a moment, Babybat,” Jason whispers hoarsely, but his mind blanks when the kid shivers against him. So he starts again, out-loud this time.

“Wahid…talatha…khamsa…saba,” the older man trails off, wracking his currently putty-like brain for the next number.

“Ahad ashr.”

Jason startles out of his thoughts, then backs off a little to look at the kid. He was a sight that Jason appreciates: pupils dilated, eyelashes long and curling to frame the baby blues with one eye slightly closed from Jason’s thumb still stroking his cheekbone, face darker from the flush of his skin, and his lips full and plump. However delectable Damian looks in this exact moment, his face is neutral.

“You’re counting in prime numbers?” Jason nods. "Eleven is ahad ashr.”

“Oh, shukran.” May as well thank the kid in his language anyway.

Jason doesn’t want to pull away, especially not when Damian gives him a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. To his credit, Damian doesn’t seem to be making a move to push Jason away either, just that his arms drop from the older man’s body.

“Do…do we have to go after them?” His hand drops away to hang awkwardly at his side.

“No.”

It’s at that instant that the floaty, post-kiss air dissipates and Jason can see the kid remembering the last time they were together. He sighs but doesn’t take a step back just yet.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t faint. I also didn’t mean to be an ass-“

Damian snorts and Jason glowers back at him, “I’m trying to fucking apologize here. Not like it was entirely my fault.”

The kid looks aghast. “I understand I was…difficult when I first came here but-“

“No. No. Nono. That’s not…” Jason sighs, “Do you remember what we were talking about before I fell off the roof?”

His face scrunches up in concentration, “We were discussing our mutual respect for each other.”

Jason sighs again, this time with his whole body, “Not exactly. I said I like you.”

“Right, which is necessary for two people to work together.”

“No, you dipshit." Jason gives the two of them more distance between by stepping back a few more steps and quickly continues before the kid starts swinging, “I like you, Damian…like you like how Bruce likes Selina."

So the thing with assassin babies, and their beaten in assassin training, was that when trying to process new information, they were good at maintaining a poker face. And Damian wouldn’t be Damian if he wasn’t doing that right now. To cope with the silence, Jason amuses himself with the thought that Damian’s head was record-scratching back to what he had just said and Damian’s brain melting from it.

The kid then starts to blink rapidly, getting Jason to think maybe he did break the little Wayne.

“So,” Damian starts quietly, so quiet that Jason strains his ears to hear, “that was what Grayson and the others were talking about."

"I don't know what they said to you exactly."

"All those looks and jokes they were making to each other. They knew. And I was the last to know?" Damian questions incredulously.

This time Jason bursts out laughing. It's a laugh mixed with hysteria, absolute amusement, and just a smidgen of relief. He brings his hands up to his face and presses his bare palms to his eyes and continues laughing for a good moment.

By the time Jason is calmer, he drops his arms back to his side to the view of Damian looking petulant. It was cute.

Jason can't even erase the grin on his face, making the kid's pout even deeper. "It's not like I was trying to hide it. I've been trying to tell you that I like you for a few weeks now."

That does nothing to stop Damian's sulking.

"I literally told you I liked you last week. I even specifically said I made dinner with your favorite foods, which I did. Considering that everyone caught on that all of those dishes were the food you like, we all would have thought you'd have caught on. But for the actual biological son of Batman, you can be incredibly dense."

Well, the sulk does turn into a scowl, and it's fitting. "Is that how you talk to someone you like?"

"Yes."

It's interesting to actually see the kid blush from embarrassment. "But...how? Why?"

This time Jason steps closer to Damian, forcing the kid to look up at him again. "Can't really explain how. Not now anyway. I don't want to scare you off with that info. But for the why?" Jason's tone is soft, "I think out of everyone I know, you've understood me best. Sometimes I get into those moods and you just understand that that happens, and you don't bug me about it. Not everything has to be talked about, not for every time anyway. Trying to explain to someone who hasn't been resurrected so violently like we have, that the violence and anger and frustration that we have is like telling B to go kill someone with a gun." He smiles wryly at that and the kid does too.

"Not to mention how much hotter you've gotten."

Damian rolls his eyes.

"Right, yeah, can't make you blush from compliments since you already know how attractive you are." Jason runs a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"Todd...Jason, I..." Jesus, Damian looks like he's constipated with his loss of words.

"Don't strain yourself," Jason responds in bemusement, then after a beat sigh, "Look, you don't have to answer me right away. I know you never really considered me or anyone for that matter-"

"Not true," Damian cuts in sharply, then his cheeks turn a few shades darker. "That is to say, it is not true that I have not considered you romantically, nor are you the only one. However, those few times were brief thoughts."

That brightens Jason's mood greatly. "Well, again, you don't have to answer right away."

The younger man nods, "I cannot make an immediate decision based solely on those few times."

"Right, but now that you actually know," Jason steps closer to Damian, bringing one arm above Damian's head to lean on the wall, almost getting as close as they were when they were kissing, "would it be okay to kiss you again? I was actually holding back before. I wanna give myself a more lasting impression, ya know?"

It's a lot easier to seduce someone when they actually know Jason's intentions, and with Damian, it is a lot more amusing. The kid was so caught off guard, having really only used his own charms and seduction as a means to achieve a goal. His lack of experience was endearing.

His other hand comes up to cup Damian's jaw again, and his breath hitches just the tiniest bit.

Jason, in his element now, leans down until his forehead touches Damian's, his hooded eyes boring into Damian's, as his thumb slowly caresses Damian's bottom lip, soft lip. God so soft.

The older man says nothing else, knowing that this slow seduction was working for him. He makes no other movements, just his thumb running over Damian's lip over and over.

This time when Damian says, "Kiss me, Todd," it's the barest of whispers.

#jaydami #jasondamian #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #batfam

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