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beneathashadytree · 3 months

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MESSING AROUND - JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA X READER

Warnings : just two teens being in love and all over each other, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : puppy love n fluff <3

Word count : 1.1K words

Additional notes : This came to me in a dream. Love the idea of teenagers being sneaky and lazy teehee

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

They tiredly rubbed at their eyes. What was this, the tenth, or the hundredth time at this? In all cases, it felt like it was a never-ending cycle that they were doomed to stay in.

“Josuke, would it really kill you to study for an hour straight?” Nudging the textbook on the coffee table, they tried to bring his attention back to the long-forgotten syllabus. “We’ve got a quiz in 3 days.”

“Still plenty of time, if you ask me,” he shrugged, not looking away from the television screen where he was trying to beat his high score (again) in one of his video games. “That’s a whole, uh, 72 hours.”

“If you hesitated while doing simple math, then I fear how you’ll face a few calculus problems.” Rolling their eyes, they sidled up to his back. “Come on. Didn’t Miss Tomoko threaten to smash the console if you don’t get at least a B+? With the looks of things, we’ll be lucky if you pass at all.”

Still without looking at them, he scowled. “First off, thanks for your obvious belief in me.” He could be petty when he wanted to, and this seemed like one of the times he wanted to pout and get snarky. “Second of all, she wouldn’t.”

At that, they arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Did you forget that time she threw the television out of the window to keep her word when you flunked that history test?”

A few moments of silence, save for the sound effects coming from his game, and the furious tapping of buttons. “Alright, maybe she will. But still, we have a lot of time to go through the material.”

“Three days. Half of one you’ve already wasted, mind you.” They sighed, carefully wrapping their arms around his midsection and snuggling up to his broad back. A cheap trick, yes, but how else would they grab his attention without outright snatching the controller from his hands? “C’mon, Josuke. Miss Tomoko asked me to come over while she was out for this reason. I don’t wanna let her down, y’know?”

Josuke audibly swallowed, and they had to hold back a smug laugh. They had him right where they wanted him. “H-hey, who are you dating, me or my mom?”

They snorted, teasingly squeezing his waist. “My supposed-boyfriend’s got me right with him, and he’s been practically ignoring me for two hours. I’d say the answer’s currently neither of you.”

Instantly, the controller flew all across the room, landing somewhere unknown as his character on the screen crashed into explosives and died. Bingo, they wickedly thought to themself as Josuke finally turned around in their arms, his handsome face blocking out the ‘GAME OVER!’ flashing behind him.

Heavy eyebrows furrowed and lower lip jutted in a subconscious pout, he leaned in, caging them against the back of the sofa with his arms. “Dirty move.”

“You fell for it, though.” Grinning, they hooked their arms around his neck, tugging him a little closer. “Can’t believe I had to fight for your attention this long.”

“It slipped my mind that we’re finally alone,” he moaned pitifully, nudging their nose with his. “Next time I get distracted from you, punch me in the balls.” At the sinister look he saw in their eyes, he pulled back for a second, alarm on his face. “On second thought, I take that back. Don’t.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Cocking their head to the side, they toyed with a few loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck. It was so rare to see his hair anything other than immaculately styled, so the rare chances that they got to touch the soft strands were deeply cherished—by the both of them, it seemed, if the current redness of Josuke’s cheeks was anything to go by. “Or would you rather I keep my hands on you?”

Their boyfriend buried his face in their neck, partially out of embarrassment, and partially out of a desire to press achingly gentle kisses against their exposed skin. “Mm, I don’t know,” he mumbled, “So long as you’re not too rough with me, I’d prefer that, yeah.”

“Oh? So you like to be treated gently, big guy?” Their voice came out a little breathy as he lightly nipped at that one spot on their neck, and they hoped that it wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had them weak in his arms. Just a little more…

More kisses rained down on them, trailing up to their jaw and sucking at the skin there, just lightly enough to tease them without leaving a mark. A sigh escaped their lips, and their hands trailed down his back, gripping at his yellow tank top in hopes of regaining their sanity. Strong arms embraced them tightly, and arched their back into him.

“Yeah, so what?” he mumbled against the corner of their lips. “Got a problem with that?”

At the very last second before their lips met, they turned their face to the other side and pulled away. “Actually, I do. Because we’re not doing anything at all until you finish studying chapters one through four.”

Groaning, Josuke made to reach out for them as they slipped from his embrace and began to walk off. “Babe, you can’t be serious—“

“I am,” they coolly said, as if they hadn’t been seconds away from pulling him ontop of them. “Would you like me to call your mom and tell her you’re fooling around instead of getting your shit done?”

He shuddered, visibly recoiling at the thought and slumping back in place. “Don’t. She’ll probably put a ban on you ever visiting me when she’s out.”

Still a little shaken up and their nerves slightly tattered by the onslaught of intimacy, they hurried to his room, calling out behind them in a sing-song voice. “Well, these calculus problems aren’t gonna solve themselves!”

Collapsing onto his bed, they muffled a laugh as they heard him swearing and slamming his heavy notebook open, grumbling under his breath the entire time. In the meantime, they curled up into his freshly-made sheets and snuggled their head into his fluffy pillow.

“It smells like him,” they whispered to themself, their face flushed as they squeezed the pillow a little. Somehow, having their boyfriend’s familiar scent surrounding them from everywhere warmed them up to their fingertips, and sent their heart racing in their ribcage. “Wish he’d hurry up and join me before Miss Tomoko gets home…”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling

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ggomos-maribat · 2 years

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Reunions

Maribat Origins October 2022 Days 14 and 15 - Shopping/Truth

"I shouldn't have come to Gotham."

"If you had not, we wouldn't have seen each other."

"We're in a hostage situation, Damian."

"Yes, I am aware."

"We're trapped in a small metal box with explosives attached to it."

"I know."

"And this box is suspended on the ceiling."

"I can tell by the swaying."

Marinette stared at him. It was purely coincidental that they found each other in the same predicament. She was kidnapped because of her status as MDC, while Damian was taken because he was a Wayne. They both had their hands cuffed at their backs, seemingly helpless until the vigilantes came to save them.

Did she mention that he was looking at her fondly?

"It has a romantic touch to it." Damian shrugged.

She snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that. Why did you let yourself get kidnapped anyway?"

"I have to appear as a defenseless rich boy to protect my identity," he explained coolly. "It is better than to rouse any suspicion if I showed my abilities. Besides, this is not the first time this has happened."

She glanced at the digital numbers ticking down to zero. They had about five minutes before the bomb was set to explode. "So . . . you were just going to stay here and wait for your family to save you?"

"That is my plan, yes." He smiled. "The company is not bad this time."

Damian leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I've missed you, ma chérie."

The bomb ticked down to three minutes. She pecked his lips in return. "I've missed you too, ya hayati. Shall we get out of here now?"

"In a few minutes."

"Damian," she said in a half-scolding tone.

He didn't say anything, only coming down to kiss her again. Marinette gasped against his lips, silently cursing the handcuffs restraining them. She tilted her head to get a better angle, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"You did not tell me you're coming to Gotham." Damian said breathlessly.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she replied softly.

Tick. Tick. two minutes.

Damian raised an eyebrow. "I could have prepared for your arrival."

She huffed. "I'm here mainly for the fashion show anyway."

A minute and a half.

Like synchronous clockwork, they picked their way out of their handcuffs, rubbing their reddened wrists. Damian kicked down the door of the box and held her hand tightly before they leapt onto the railings together. Just in time, the bomb went off just as they ducked into a safe place.

Marinette craned her neck upon hearing footsteps down the hallway.

"That must be Father and my brothers," said Damian. "They're getting sloppy."

Marinette checked the time on her watch and groaned. "I'm late for the technical run!" She kissed Damian's cheek, squeezing his hand. "I'll go ahead, habibi. Take care."

Not long after Marinette ran to the exit, Red Robin found Damian crouching in the hallway. The vigilante studied him warily. "You got out by yourself?"

The youngest Wayne scoffed. "Do not be ridiculous. I escaped with my wife."

"Your . . . you're still going on about your imaginary wife?"

---

The product aisles were seemingly endless in the grocery store, reeling in buyers with colorful packaging and tricky deals. A blonde girl wrinkled her nose distastefully as she followed her two friends, one of which was pushing their cart and humming.

"Why do we need to buy food, Maribug?" Chloe whined. "Isn't the hotel buffet enough?"

"Snacks for extra sustenance," Marinette responded, dumping a box of instant coffee and some cookies in their cart. It soon followed with a set of energy drinks as they moved to the next aisle.

"Right. Sustenance." Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Why, Chlo? I thought you agreed on shopping?" The cheeky look on the bluenette's face made Chloe want to stomp her foot.

"Clothes shopping, not grocery shopping!"

"Okay, let's get ourselves some face masks for a spa treatment later," Marinette lightheartedly consoled. She turned to Adrien, who was eyeing a jar of cheese balls on one corner. "What about you, Adrien? Pick whatever you want."

"But my diet." The boy pouted.

"Fuck your diet. While we're in Gotham, your diet is nonexistent."

After a visible internal debate, Adrien nodded and began gathering snacks in his arms: Doritos in every possible flavor, packs of M&Ms, loads of chocolate Pocky, and grape sodas. Marinette grinned wildly, pride radiating as she watched Adrien spoil himself.

They were traversing down the aisle when Marinette stopped, lips parting as she looked at someone who was also pushing a cart in front of them. "Damian! Ya hayati," she gasped.

Chloe and Adrien immediately exchanged a look, both equally confused. The two men following behind Damian also glanced at each other.

"Mon amour." The stranger perked up, going up to Marinette. They exchanged a la bise, holding each other while smiling.

"And what are you doing grocery shopping?" Marinette smirked teasingly.

"Pennyworth is currently unavailable and Father sent us on these errands . . ."

The two went off to a far area in the aisle, catching up like old friends while picking out snacks. They had completely left behind their carts and companions, who were currently short-circuiting at the odd encounter.

Chloe looked at Adrien and whispered, "What the fuck?"

Adrien stared back with wide eyes. "I haven't seen him in my life. Ever."

"Since when did Marinette know someone in Gotham?!"

"I don't know! She's never mentioned it to me."

"Wait a minute." Chloe narrowed her eyes at the boy Marinette was talking to. "Damian . . . that's Damian Wayne!"

"The Damian Wayne?"

"The Damian Wayne!"

"Maybe he was her client before?" Adrien scratched his head.

"Adrien, all of Mari's clients go through you," Chloe pointed out. "I'm sure you'd remember if he ever commissioned her."

"Oh right."

Meanwhile, Jason and Tim gaped at the couple, failing to comprehend how soft Damian acted around the girl. They could butt in and ask about their relationship but they had a feeling Damian wouldn't spare them if they dared interrupt their own bubble.

The two boys looked to their side to see the girl's friends sporting the same puzzled looks. They held eye contact for a few awkward seconds before the blondes whispered to each other in French.

Jason tugged on Tim's shirt. "Take a video."

"What?"

"We need proof or else Dickiebird and the others won't believe us."

Tim begrudgingly held up his phone in a sneaky angle to capture a video. Finally, after forever, Damian and Marinette parted with cheek and head kisses, heading towards opposite ends of the aisle.

"Who the hell was that?" Jason was first to ask.

"My wife," Damian responded nonchalantly, taking a bag of potato crisps.

"She's real?!"

"Of course she is. Why would she not be real?"

Jason and Tim looked at each other yet again, minds running at lightning speed as they tried to figure out the 'who's, 'when's, 'why's and 'how's. Damian would always be too casual about mentioning his so-called 'wife' and they didn't take him seriously, thinking that it was a sort of joke or delusion.

The same bemusement plagued Adrien and Chloe as Marinette examined the label of a juice bottle. "Marinette," Chloe began. "How do you know Damian Wayne?"

"Oh Damian?" Marinette barely looked up from the bottle. "He's my husband."

"I'm sorry, your what?"

"Yeah, I know I still use Dupain-Cheng, but that's just for convenience since we technically don't have a marriage certificate. Also, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Al-Ghul Wayne is a terrible mouthful."

---

A knock rapped on the door during one rainy night. Bruce hesitated opening it at first, realizing that all his children were present in the manor. Stephanie and Cass had dropped by and had decided to stay until the storm weakened. Dick was back from Bludhaven. Even Jason was home for the obligatory family dinner.

Which led to Bruce wondering who could be knocking on the door.

He opened the door himself in Alfred's stead, since the butler was busy cleaning in the kitchen. On the doorstep was a young girl, shivering and wet from the rain. Bruce did a double take. Another one of mine?

"Good evening, Monsieur Wayne." The girl sniffed as her teeth chattered. "May I stay here for the night? It's a long story, but I'll explain later."

Bruce gave a polite smile. "Sorry, who are you?"

"I'm really sorry!" Her eyes widened. "I would've texted ahead of time but my phone died and I had no way of reaching Damian."

What did she have to do with him? "Damian?"

"Yes . . .? My husband?"

Before his brain could fully comprehend, the others' heads popped in, lured in by the sound of a guest. Jason and Tim let out a chorused gasp while Damian immediately rushed to get his coat to wrap around Marinette.

"Mon coeur, what were you doing out in the rain?" Damian protectively tucked her inside the large coat.

Marinette sneezed. "I got stranded in the area and the manor was the nearest place I knew and my phone died . . ."

He led her to the living room and the rest of the siblings followed in quiet curiosity. Meanwhile, Bruce was still standing dumbfoundedly by the door.

"I have a daughter-in-law?" He whispered to himself.

---

Marinette plopped down on the bed, holding up her hand to see the permanent mark on the back of it. So I'm married, huh.

Did she mind? Not as much as she expected. She had already given up on all chances of romance since she became swamped with guardian work and designing. Nonetheless, she still wished she had a choice on who she'd be bound to for life. 'Damian' was a complete stranger, one affiliated with a group of people she didn't know existed until the previous day.

The door flew open just in time, and Damian was ushered inside by Talia. "It's time for you to consummate your marriage," the woman told them.

Damian scowled, while Marinette deadpanned, "We're barely eighteen."

Talia only shut the door and locked it. Their room was windowless, devoid of any other potential exit routes aside from the door itself. Marinette sat up and watched as Damian restlessly paced around the room in frustration.

Her hand touched her earrings. Strangely, the League had returned her kwamis and belongings after the ceremony.

"Damian . . . Right?" Marinette began tentatively. "What do we do now?"

Damian's lips pulled into a thin line. "We need to escape." He crossed his arms. "I can take out about half of their numbers, but they might summon more people and we will not be able to handle them anymore."

He looked at her. "Unless you can contribute?"

Marinette bit back a smile as she held up her ring. "I take it you're familiar with the Miraculous?"

"The Black Cat," he breathed out. "We can take out this base in one blow."

Marinette hopped off the bed, making her way to the array of decorative weapons on the side of the room. Why Talia even allowed that collection to be within their reach, she didn't know. "But we need a plan. I can only use Cataclysm once before I need to recharge."

"We can target a weak point by the grand hall and I can take care of the ones who won't get trapped in the debris."

Marinette nodded, picking out a rope dart (which had a similar feel to her yoyo) and a separate kunai. "I can support from the back."

They talked about their plans in detail, even deciding to steal off some food from the kitchens and priceless artifacts during their escape. Marinette was surprised about how well they clicked together—Damian was blunt, but straightforward and competent.

She figured that maybe it wasn't too bad being married to him after all.

---

"Wait a second." Tim ran a hand through his hair. "So you blew up a base of the League of Assassins after you got married?"

The whole family was now sitting in the lounge room, gathered around Damian and Marinette, who had just changed into borrowed clothes from Cass and was now cradling hot tea. Alfred had also served snacks and drinks as everyone listened. Unsurprisingly, the news was already known to the butler.

"Cataclysmed," Marinette corrected. "Only the grand hall collapsed so it's all cool. Damian and I fought our way out until we reached the mountains."

"So that time when you went away to see Talia . . ." Dick looked at his younger brother.

Damian nodded. "I got married."

"Why didn't you tell us?!" Stephanie exclaimed.

"What are you talking about?" Damian pulled Marinette closer to him. "I have always talked about my wife with utmost appreciation and pride."

"What happened after that?" Tim leaned forwards.

"I got a teleportation Miraculous and dropped Damian off back in Gotham," said Marinette. "But we exchanged contacts so we can figure out how to go about our marriage."

Bruce cleared his throat. "Son, why haven't you invited her to a family dinner before?"

"She was not comfortable with meeting the family yet." Damian protectively placed his arm from around her waist to her shoulders.

Marinette ducked her head. "Sorry for that, Monsieur Wayne. We were trying to keep our marriage down-low."

As the family tried to badger them with more questions, Damian stood up with Marinette. "If you will excuse us, we need to get some rest. Marinette had been out in the rain for too long."

The couple retreated to the upstairs bedrooms, leaving the Waynes staring after them, still in disbelief.

"Holy shit," said Dick. "They're sharing a room?"

Taglist:@maribat-calendar-events@the-coffee-fandom@tinybrie

#MARIBAT DAMINETTE OCT 2022 #DAMINETTE MONTH 2022 #ggomoz #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat fic #dc x miraculous #maribat damian wayne #they are little shits your honor

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spencermyangel · 1 year

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Guilt and Brokenness

How did this happen? One minute they were walking up to a witness’ house, the next there was an explosion and Spencer was laying on the ground.

Morgan and Spencer deal with the aftermath of Spencer being injured on a case.

For - @criminalmindsvibez I hope you like it :)

@cmgiftexchange

CW - Ableism, Permeant Injury

You can also read on ao3

“Reid, Reid. It’s okay, I’m here,” Morgan ran his hand through Spencer’s curly hair, trying to do anything to console the sobbing man.

“How… how bad is it?” Spencer managed to ask through tears and winces of pain.

Morgan glanced at Spencer’s legs. He closed his eyes, anguish written on his face at the sight of the mangled flesh and bone.

How did this happen? One minute they were walking up to a witness’ house, the next there was an explosion and Spencer was laying on the ground.

“Morgan.”

Spencer’s voice snapped Morgan out of his thoughts. He looked into Spencer’s honey eyes.

“How bad is it?” Spencer asked again, this time with more determination in his voice.

Morgan shook his head, “don’t worry about that. Just keep squeezing my arm and focus on staying awake. Help will be here soon.”

Spencer looked as though he were about to argue but suddenly winced in pain and nodded. He gripped Morgan’s arm tighter and tried to stop his increasingly heavy eyelids from closing.

Morgan paced around the emergency room, as the rest of the team stood or sat. They desperately waited for news. Morgan tried to focus on his breathing to remain calm and listened to the comforting sound of Garcia’s knitting needles clanging together.

“Spencer Reid?”

Morgan turned to see a middle aged man. The doctor. Morgan, along with the others, rushed over to him. The doctor looked slightly overwhelmed but began speaking.

“Dr. Reid is in stable condition. We tried our best to save his legs, but we had to amputate. I’m sorry.”

Morgan felt as though his heart skipped a beat, his brain racing.

“Both?!” Garcia squeaked from beside him.

“I’m afraid so,” the doctor replied, with sympathy in his eyes.

Morgan stared forward, his face emotionless as he tuned himself out. All that kept running through his head was the fact that Spencer had lost both his legs.

“Morgan.”

Morgan blinked at the sound of his name. He turned his head to the side to see Hotch studying him.

“They said Reid should be waking up soon. Do you want to see him?”

Morgan quickly shook his head, “he won’t want to see me.”

“Why?” Hotch questioned, his brows furrowed.

Morgan scoffed, “because it's my fault. If I had done my job…”

Hotch’s face only grew more confused, “you did your job, you were going to interview a witness.”

Morgan shook his head, “my job is to protect Spencer. I failed.” with that he turned and walked away.

“The kid’s been asking about you.”

Morgan turned away from his file and looked up to see Rossi with a cup of coffee in his hand. Morgan didn’t respond.

“He’s wondering why you aren’t coming to see him. He needs you Morgan.”

“No, he doesn’t, Rossi,” Morgan sternly replied.

“He does,” Rossi’s voice grew quieter, “he’s really struggling. Keeps going on about how he’s useless and broken now.”

Morgan shook his head about to turn back to his work.

Rossi scoffed, “so, you’re just going to cut Spencer off? Because he has a disability?”

Morgan harshly turned to face him, his eyes sharp, “it is NOT because he has a disability!”

“Then why is it?” Rossi questioned, his voice soft.

Morgan deflated at this, “because it’s my fault he’s disabled,” he whispered.

“Really?” Rossi reached into his back pocket and pulled out some handcuffs, “Well, I guess I better arrest you then.”

“What?” Morgan glanced at the handcuffs in bewilderment.

“Well, you just confessed to covering Arthur Riley’s property with explosives. A federal agent was injured. That’s a serious crime.”

“Rossi… I… you know what I mean,” Morgan stammered.

“You told me it was your fault. So, either you knew about the explosives or you didn’t. In which case, it's not your fault. So did you know about them or not?” Rossi asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t” Morgan responded after a slight pause.

Rossi nodded and put the handcuffs away, “so, it’s not your fault. It’s Arthur Riley’s fault.”

Morgan looked down and blinked back tears.

“How about I take you to see him? He’s staying at my place while he is using a wheelchair.”

Morgan nodded as he wiped away a tear. He stood up and grabbed his belongings.

“Let’s go.”

Morgan quietly peered in Rossi’s library, where Spencer was sitting in a wheelchair reading a book. A blanket was draped over his lap. Morgan glanced at Spencer’s legs, which now cut off a little below the knee.

Morgan took a deep breath, before entering and clearing his throat, “hey, kid. How are you doing?”

Spencer jumped slightly as his eyes flashed up. When he caught sight of Morgan, he blushed and quickly adjusted the blanket on his lap to cover his legs.

“Morgan… What are you doing here?” Spencer asked.

“I’ve come to see you,” Morgan responded, “you didn’t think I’d just abandon you, did you?”

Morgan’s heart broke when Spencer’s eyes dropped to his lap and he shrugged.

“Spencer…”

“You didn’t come to see me,” Spencer mumbled, trying to hide how hurt he was, “I thought maybe, I wasn’t good enough for you anymore.”

Morgan sighed, sadness in his eyes, “no. I… it was hard for me to see you hurt like that. I had to deal with it before I could come and see you,” he tried to explain, “do you understand?”

Spencer met Morgan’s eyes and nodded, “thank you, Morgan. I… sometimes, I jump to the worst conclusion.”

“I understand,” Morgan assured him, “but, just know, I would never abandon you. And for this,” Morgan nodded towards Spencer’s legs, “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

“Well, rolls for now,” Spencer said, with a playful smile on his lips.

Morgan laughed and shook his head, “you’re something else, kid.”

Morgan kept his promise. He went with Spencer to physical therapy every chance he could and the day he first walked on his new prosthetics was one he would never forget.

“Okay, Spencer, I want you to slowly release the bar,” Spencer's physical therapist, Adam, said.

Spencer looked at Morgan with fear in his eyes.

“Come on, pretty boy, you can do it,” Morgan encouraged him. This was the first time Spencer would be walking without using the parallel bars.

Spencer gulped and nodded and slowly released the bar. He took a shaky step forward and then another. He looked up at Morgan with tears in his eyes, but a smile forming on his face.

Morgan, himself let out a watery laugh, “you did it!” he said.

Spencer nodded and with determination in his eyes, took another step forward. This time towards Morgan. Morgan smiled and walked to meet him halfway. When they met, Morgan took him into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” Morgan whispered, as Spencer cried into his shoulder.

Spencer’s first case back was nerve wracking for him. He was scared of how people, witnesses, LEOs, and others would act. Would they think he was incapable? Unfortunately that proved to be the case, as the detective immediately noted the slight oddness of Spencer’s walk and the chair that was provided for him, while the rest of the team was standing. He gave Spencer a look of disbelief when he spotted a hint of Spencer’s prosthetic legs underneath his pant legs.

This came to a head when the detective and the other officers were getting frustrated with them.

“If you would listen to what we have to say, we probably would have had this case solved already!” Morgan argued to the detective.

Hotch held his hand up to calm Morgan before putting on his Hotch stare. “Listen, you called us here. We are simply here to help you, but you have to let us.”

The detective rolled his eyes, “When I asked for your help, I thought I was going to get a legitime team of FBI agents. Not a ton of people who think they can do fortune telling! You brought a cripple with you, for goodness sake!”

Spencer ducked his head at the last part. He wanted to defend himself, but he couldn’t help but let the detective's words amplify his already self-doubting thoughts.

The sternness on Hotch’s face increased, if that was possible. “That is not appropriate and I’m sure you know that. Dr. Re-”

“No, Hotch,” Morgan cut him off, as Rossi gave Spencer’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. Morgan then turned to the detective, “You know he lost his legs working on a case of two young boys who had been abducted and killed. We were looking for the third one. If he hadn’t lost his legs, someone else would have, and maybe by then we wouldn’t have found the boy in time!”

The detective went silent for a moment before his eyes glanced over to Spencer, “I’m sorry,” he begrudgingly apologized, sensing he wouldn’t win this fight.

Morgan rolled his eyes, “come, Reid, let’s go check out the latest crime scene.”

After a few moments in the car, Morgan glanced over at Spencer who was fiddling with a strap on his bag.

“I hope you know nothing he said was true,” Morgan said.

Spencer only responded by shrugging.

Morgan pulled over the care and turned to Spencer, “I’m serious, Spencer. I understand it’s h-”

“You don’t,” Spencer mumbled, cutting him off.

“What?”

“You don’t understand.” Spencer finally looked up, “you don’t understand what it’s like to lose something you used all the time, to feel broken and incapable now that it’s gone.”

“Spencer,” Morgan sighed, “you’re right, I don’t completely understand. I most likely never will. But, those thoughts you have, that you’re broken or incapable, are not true. I don’t know what we’d do without you. What I’d do without you,” Morgan paused, “I love you, Spencer. And nothing could ever change that.”

Spencer looked at Morgan with wide teary eyes. He wiped away a tear that was falling down his cheek, “I love you too, Morgan,” he responded.

Morgan smiled and pulled Spencer in for a hug.

#derek morgan #spencer reid #moreid #criminal minds #injury #criminal minds fanfiction #moreid fanfiction #derek morgan angst #spencer reid angst

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beybaldes · 2 years

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A Love Never Flourished

Abe x gn!Reader

“Fate is cruel but Wilford is kind.”

Word count: 2.5k

As encouraged by @crazy-obsessed-enby and @enderman-ezra‘s love for the first part <3

————————————————————————

Part 1 - The Prying Hands Of Choice

Part 2 - A Love Never Flourished

Part 3 - Somewhere, Somehow

————————————————————————

"And, uh, thank you..." Mark sounded unsure of himself, as though he meant more then he could ever say, as though thank you wasn't enough. "...for, uh, not giving up on me."

Giving him a short nod and a small smile, you let him know you understood - it was so much more then just a thank you for being a good captain to a slightly out of it head engineer.

"Just, thank you." Mark would never, ever truly thank you enough, nor would he ever believe you forgave him for what he did. But at the end of the day, you think you would've done the same in his shoes.

You were upset with him, in a way. But instead of letting him catch a glimpse of your frown, you turned back to look out the window at the expanse of the new planet. Taking a long sip from your 'no.1 captain' mug, filled with coffee just the way you liked it.

Easing out of cryosleep, you'd heard, was difficult. And you hoped that the steaming liquid would help ease that process.

It wouldn't help ease your racing thoughts.

You wished you could go back, stop mark from pulling the glowing crystal from your palm. You can remember the searing pain of the objects being pulled from flesh; a part of you taken. Both in the physical and emotional.

With the removal, and later destruction, of the crystal, you lost all hopes of ever finding Abe again.

It was a good thing you hadn't promised your safe return. Or your return at all for that matter.

"Thank you." You finally spoke, letting Mark hear your voice for the first time. You were well known for your choice to stay quiet upon the ship - talking could build an attachment that would be ripped from your hands before you knew it.

It wasn't a risk you often sought to take after the events of the manor.

"Thank you for sticking by my side, believing in me; even when I didn't." Mark's eyes widened, then softened at your gentle tone and soothing words - more and more in awe of the beloved captain. "You're the best head engineer I could've asked for."

"Friend." You quickly corrected, turning and placing the cup of coffee on the ledge of the bridges console. "The best friend I could've asked for."

"Why captain-" Raising your hand, you silence Mark, placing your hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Removing yourself from him, you nodded a goodbye - one that felt more of a permanent then it should have - walking away from the bridge and into the bowels of the ship, hoping to find something to distract your aching heart with.

You'd left Abe behind yet again. How many years had he spent fighting to avenge you? Keep your memory alive? To find any remainder of you that there was out there? And how quickly had you given up on finding again him in return?

Wondering the corridors of the ship, you trailed your finger along the raw flesh of your palm, one bound to scar - a slight reminder that this was real. Not another wormhole you'd fallen through and would inevitably leave. Not a reality you could so easily escape and potentially find Abe again.

Sometimes you felt as though you missed the ever-falling wormholes; the limitless edge it gave to life. There had been no permanence in your torment - every gunshot, explosion, death being undone just as quickly as it had occurred. Though you supposed, after all, it was still torment you were going through; limitless or not.

You wince at the notion; an echo of an old saying about things seeming better once long lost rather then in the moment. Maybe it was true.

In all your memories Abe was encased in glimmers of gold; a spectre of a person. A sight to be seen. He encapsulated every thought he was a part of, every room he walked into. However, you knew Abe was equally as good in the past as you knew he would be in the present and future - if you could ever find him again.

The halls of the Invincible had never seemed so lonely - so quiet and lifeless. Even when you'd first stepped on the ship it'd been full on from the get go and roaring with life, but now it was so, so quiet. So many members of your crew were already bound for the new planet, pretty much only you and Mark remaining.

Sometimes you pitied the man you would call your closest friend; he appeared to fawn over you often, though you knew his affections would never be returned: your heart too concerned with the likes of another.

Bitter and broken by a love never flourished, never allowed to live in the sunlight, breath in the crisp, spring air.

So when you noticed the flashing of lights from underneath the door separating you from the tunnel to the warp core, you were very surprised. Maybe even slightly scared.

Thoughts raced through you mind; maybe this was all, indeed, another trick of of a shimmer and swirl of hues of blue. Rubbing your finger against the flesh of your palm, you assured yourself that wasn't true.

Approaching the door with caution, you leant into it, listening Intently for any sign of who - or what - would be waiting for you on the other side. When your ears were met with the melodic beats of some random 70's song, you pressed your hand against the scanner opening the door as quickly as you could.

"You're not supposed to be here yet!" Wilford. You had never been happier to see the man before you; clad in a bright orange shirt and swaying from side to side in time with the music. The same as when you'd left him, though missing the bubble-gum pink curls from his head. "Or are you?"

Wilford's dancing came to a sudden stop, questioning the thought seeming to take up all of his focus and energy. Tapping his forefinger against his chin, he took occasional sips from whatever fruity cocktail he held loosely in his grasp. "Time is a tedious thing isn't it."

That was the biggest understatement you'd ever heard. Tears began to well in your eyes at the notion - terrified that this was just your mind playing tricks on you, and scared for what his appearance could truly mean.

It was always hard to tell; your old friend filled with tricks up his sleeve you swore not even he knew of.

"Will? What are you-"

"I've heard I owe you a favour." He groaned, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat, a frown settling on his face. Always the dramatic; something you finally came to appreciate as you stood before him in the warp core tunnel. "From me - or someone else; perhaps even you, my dear. I was told it was the least I could do."

Abe.

You remembered the moment as clear as day; though how could you forget? Falling through universe after universe, you couldn't stop thinking about the devastated look that creased Abe's brow when he pleaded - begged - Wilford to do something, anything, to keep you with him.

The man who he hated more then anything, the man who he blamed for your death - his own death too - had had Abe at his complete and utter mercy. If only he had been able to do something.

God, how you wished you had done anything, tried anything, to stay by his side while you had the chance. A certain, honest chance.

But you had a duty to your crew: to get them to the new planet safely.

Now though, your duty was done, colonists and crew alike headed for the safety of ground. A new planet, that you weren't needed on; one that could easily be governed by Mark or Celci. One you hoped you wouldn't be joining them on, especially if Wilford had given himself the chance to intervene.

"Well, come on!" Wilford whined, stomping his foot against the ground as he gestured for you to come closer. "I don't have all the time in the world."

You let out a short laugh at Wilford's words. Almost ironic from him. Though you doubted that he had as much time as you liked to think, he certainly had more then you - him seeming to come and go as he pleased.

Taking off your red beret, you placed it against the door to the corridor, rubbing the soft material with the tips of your fingers. You had been through so much together; you and Mark, you and the Invincible II, you and that silly little beret.

It was time to let go: it was okay to let go. And so you did, with a whisper of an apology to Mark you stood and faced Wilford. It was okay to be selfish for once, just this once.

Wasting no more time, you sprinted to the other end of the corridor, right before the entrance to the finally calm warp core and into Wilford's open arms. Colliding into the taller man, you wrapped him in a hug, standing on the tips of your toes to throw your arms over his shoulders.

He pulled you in tightly to his side, an arm snaking around your waist. Wrapping your own arms around him tighter in return, you braced yourself, not knowing what would come next. At a cry to 'hold on' you squeezed the tipsy man even tighter, buzzing with a mix of fear and excitement.

As you tightly closed your eyes, you didn't see the swirls of pink, white and sparkles open beneath you, however you did feel the wind sweep through your hair as you fell downwards at an alarming and increasing rate.

Even as you came to a standstill, you held tightly onto Wilford. Allowing yourself to slowly become adjusted to the flashing lights and streamers that filled the corridor you'd landed in.

"It still- it looks the exact same as last time." You muttered, slowly pulling away from Will and looking at the four walls of the white corridor.

"It's not been long since you've gone; maybe for you, but not here." Wilford explained another fruity drink appearing in his hand at the click of his fingers. "He's been dancing, taking a break. Though he looks for you in everything."

Your heart warmed at the thought you'd have such an effect on the handsome detective; you'd have never imagined you would. He knew you loved him, as you knew he loved you. Never having said the words out loud don't change that fact.

"The wind would blow and he'd hear your call, the song would change and he'd swear it sounded like someone he knew. You're all he thinks about. It seems as though you’ve completely and utterly consumed him."

Even in the daze of disco, he kept looking for you in everything, everywhere. Fuck. How could you have ever been so willing to give up on finding him?

Though willing wasn't a good word, how else could you explain it? You had believed it wasn't achievable and you had resigned to that fact.

"What if I'm not what-"

"No time for doubtful thoughts." Wilford mused, stepping closer to you and putting a gentle, guiding hand on the small of your back. "You've done your duty, as a good captain should: a mighty fine duty if I might say. Take this moment."

Wilford slowly moved you closer to the streamers, wherein you could push through at any moment and make your presence know to Abe; find him once again. Will never pushed you through, knowing this was not something to rush, you'd already served your time apart and he wouldn't be one to force you back together.

This was a choice you needed to make alone. Braving the unknown of the roller rink behind the multicoloured streamers. For who knew what really rested behind their shroud?

After all, life was now yours to choose.

With a deep intake of breath, you pushed through the streamers, running out into the midst of the roller-rink disco dancers. Scanning the room, you finally made eye contact with the back of a suave leather jacket, clad on broad shoulders. Opposite him was the pink-haired Wilford you'd recognised from your last visit to the disco, a wide smile on his face and a cocktail in his hand.

This was it.

Standing firm in your place, you called out to the charming detective, your voice a whisper in the wind amongst the volume of the music and the chatter of the crowd. Abe still heard by some magic, and turned as he always did when he thought he'd heard any kind of resemblance of you: though this time there you were, at the other end of the call.

The detective whispered out your name, a crooked smile curling onto his face as he stopped dancing for the first time since returning back to the disco.

You'd come back for him - to him - and in that moment he can't imagine that you didn't promise your return. Even when you weren't sure yourself he knew, that somehow, somewhere, you would come back to him. You had ensured that to him after all. And God, was he thankful you’d chose this time, this place, this Abe to come back to.

Closing the distance between the two of you, you crashed into your lovers arm, your hands twisting into the leather jacket and holding him tight against you. At the momentum of your impact, Abe lifted you off of your feet and into the air, twirling the two of you around as a boisterous laugh came from the caverns of his chest.

A wide smile settled on the detectives face as he caressed your cheek, his hands guiding both body and face closer to him. He drunk in the sight of you; forehead pressed so close to his own that he could only see the reflection of the strobe lights in your eyes and feel the outline of you against himself. Breathing, heaving, alive enough.

Placing your hand on top of Abe's, you leaned deeper into his touch, closing your eyes and absorbing the feel of him - the blaring music of the disco drowning out and away as you relished in his touch at last.

Slowly the two of you began to sway to the music, it becoming more slow and sensual since your arrival at the roller rink disco. Wrapped in each other's arms, you let yourself get lost in the song and each other; the warmth, the smell, everything.

When had you last seen him so happy? You couldn't quite place a time - maybe at the manor, before things went down how they did, or maybe as he died right in front of you thankful it was him who'd been caught in the crossfire, not you.

That didn't matter now though, what mattered what that he was safe, in your arms and alive enough. And that you'd found him again; somewhere, somehow.

————————————————————————

Hey guys!! Thank you for all the love on part 1. part 3 will be coming soon!!

I hope you enjoyed!! <33

#abe x reader #detective abe x reader #abe the detective #detective abe #district attorney x the detective #iswm x reader #in space with markiplier x reader #wilford motherloving warfstache #wkm x reader #captain yn #abe wkm

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drabbleitout · 2 years

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Find the Word Tag Game

Tagged by: @spacetimewraithwrites forever ago over here, hope you're doing well Don! My Words: talk, scream, yell, cry, whisper, murmur Tagging: @druidx, @zmwrites, @winterandwords, @fearofahumanplanet, @asomeoneperson, and tagging back @spacetimewraithwrites Your Words: Dramatic, Dream, Damage, Drive, & Dull Cw: language, gun violence, blood mention

Talk

Garnet slumped in the passenger seat after closing his door, releasing a deep sigh with his head craned back. Beau got in, buckling up and turning the engine over, still expecting it to be a trick. He glanced at Garnet, blood dried down his face and on his neck, the slit on his brow probably going to need stitches. “Why don’t you grab a screenshot and get us down the road instead of staring?” Garnet grumbled. “There’s a first aid kit in the console. You should patch yourself up.” “Oh, listen at you,” Garnet snickered, opening his eyes and lowering the visor to check his reflection, “Mr. Badass now, huh? Talkin’ shit.” "I learned it from you."

Scream

LOCKING SAFETY BELTS ABS INITIATED Ives jerked the wheel to avoid the explosion, spinning the back end around to swipe them with the bumper. |0-36 to Dispatch,| “Go ahead, 0-36.” |Requesting ambulance to 4468 Sypher for suspect.| “Already on their way 0-36. Happy hunting.” There was laughter in Ayla’s voice. Again there was the scream of bullets sparking off of Beau’s side of the car, splintering windows, filling the cab with the thunder of firepower. Ives kicked his door open, yanking Beau over the console, past the steering wheel onto the pavement on the safe side of the vehicle.

Yell

Did someone break in? Ryker lowered the gun only slightly, checking the rest of the kitchen and towards the living room in search of Beau. With little light to see by there was still no telling his condition. Ryker crept towards the small junk drawer near the fridge, quietly digging inside for a flashlight. Bringing it up beneath his weapon hand, he kept it dark as he crept towards the pantry door. Leaning around the opening he turned on the light, bright yellow eyes reflecting back at him. He screamed. Only a split second after the startled, and frankly loud, shriek did he recognize Beau’s face. He instantly lowered the gun, huffing the yell off into a wheeze. “Oh my God,” he breathlessly gasped, reaching out for the doorframe to steady himself. Suddenly lightheaded, he had to bend over and brace himself on his knees. “Captain,” Beau chirped, continuing to rustle. “Good morning!”

Cry(ing)

Garnet offered out his hand, waiting. Nate stared, blinking tears down his cheeks. “I know it’s been hard, but you wanna try one more time?” Garnet asked, softer. His other hand touched Nate’s shoulder, massaging gently. “Let’s try one more time, bud.” “Okay,” he breathed, taking Garnet’s hand in a firm shake. Garnet pulled him in, throwing his arms around him and holding him tightly. Beau could hear Nate’s crying through the mic, slumping in Garnet’s hold. “You’re doing great, buddy. I’m so proud of you.” Garnet whispered, and Beau suddenly felt as if he were invading a personal moment. Instead, he focused on putting things back in order in Nate’s room. He backtracked through the apartment, closing the door behind him and heading upstairs.

Whisper(ed)

High heels clacked closer, and surprisingly stopped in front of him. [Garnet] slowly pulled his face from his hands, squinting up at the person in front of him. Eden. Synthetic manager of HQ with their short-cropped, dark hair, deep blue eyes, and only the upper half of their face plated to look human. The rest of them was bare framework and looms, always dressed in something high fashion and chic. They were 50/50 bad news, either telling him to leave for the night or bringing him coffee. And they had one hell of a poker face. “Dr. Yew is ready to see you now.” They whispered, lips curling faintly. The air rushed from Garnet’s lungs, bowing his head at the strong sensation that he may black out. Eden didn’t move, didn’t repeat themselves. They waited. “Is it bad?” He finally got himself to ask, looking up again. Eden gave a small smile, shaking their head.

Murmur(ed)

“Oh, hey, Ives.” [Ryker] turned to look at him, lowering his tablet to check his wristband, “what are you doing on this side of the woods?” “I’m here to get Beau for quarterly Audits.” “Ooh, the principal's office,” Garnet murmured. Ryker grimaced, lowering his wrist. “You forgot, didn’t you?” Ives asked. “Yeah, I forgot,” He admitted.

#wip: tb #ftwtg #tag game #I would want TB to be in visual form for no other reason than to make a montage of the clumsy tripping/falling off things #and the moments of grown adults who are supposed to be serious/professional shrieking from being startled #What genre is this? The 'Hot Potatoing 1 brain Cell' Genre

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stargatelov3r · 2 years

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Yes of course! And the things an engineer and an explosives expert could concoct in the name of pranks would be legendary!

Your mind!! I absolutely love this hypothetical relationship of theirs.

As a nod to one of their scenes, you could have Zelenka getting hurt when another gate tech spills their drink on a console.

Chuck is overcome with guilt having dismissed Zelenka’s notion that they would get liquid on the equipment.

The relationship is born.

Radek, (Because of course they are on a first-name basis now) would slip love notes to Chuck and he’d have to hide his blush because everyone can see him in the gate room. Chuck would leave drinks and snacks at Radek’s desk knowing the man hardly ever stopped working to head to the mess to eat.

As friends would be awesome too. I can see it so well, playing poker, and watching movies at a homemade cinema together. Heck let’s just have All the side characters be as tight-knit as AR-1, Laura, Radek, Chuck, heck throw in Evan. It would be glorious and the Atlantis mortals would love them to death.

Hmm, ship anon? I accept this!

I would like to state that I did not ask about John/Larrin. I actually had to look the name up LOL probably because she's in the fourth season, which I rarely watch. I did ask about Ronon/Aiden though.

omg ship anon YOUR MIND!!!! This is amazing!!!!!

we love a caring boyfriend who sees that their boyfriend gets to eat something, and if it's just an energy bar.

They probably share their coffee rations too, always giving up theirs if the other one has an especially stressful day/night.

And yes! give me all the Atlantis Lower Decks stories! There is just so much potential, especially in the first season when it's literally just the (how many are on the original expedition anyways?) 100? 200? people! They all know each other, they all know what trouble AR-1 is always getting into!

I think my favorite headcanon about that is that they have some kind of social media that everyone is on except maybe the apartment heads and the "aliens" (although Ronon later joins for sure)

there is a huuuge meme market, too

i just think the cameraderie on Atlantis would be so strong, and they are all experts in their fields! they are all scientists and nerds! there's bound to be some crazy shit going on !

(tbh i keep forgetting about Larrin too... that character did not stick xD)

#ship anon #radek x chuck #and yes they are absolutely on first name basis #GOSH THE MORE I THINK ABOUT THEM THE MORE I SHIP THEM #sga #headcanons #answered

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400legends · 1 year

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File Recovery (Day 179)

EDI's voice was just overhead: "In addition, the acidic soil on Awindid Tan-graw allows for Coffea arabica to grow wild along the slopes of the Vellen Mountain Range."

"Wow," I said, interrupting her flow. "And you said this is the captain's favorite book? It's just an alphabetical list of coffee growing planets."

"Just the first 15 hours. After that there is a section on the history of the plant and a separate section on Cichorium intybus - also known as 'false java.' The captain has listened to this book 8 times."

"How much more time on your file retrieval?" EDI was attempting to recover a file from my drives that predated my own existence.

"Uncertain, Doctor Quinn. My best estimate is between 30 minutes and 3 hours. Should I resume the audiobook?"

I was tethered to the workbench console to make EDI's access easier, so I couldn't go anywhere until she was done. "Sure."

Later, as EDI was relaying the fact that the planet Burahe is the 18th largest producer of coffee (due to its fresh water lakes and tropical weather), she broke off and said, "Recovery complete. Would you like to view the file?"

I sat up straight and nodded. The screen in front of me showed static. A sound like howling wind hissed from the speaker. The view jolted, and a hairy arm came into view. A voice said, "Trak, buddy, watch yourself. I want you in one piece when we get there."

A second voice - my voice - said, "I'm fine. Just hit an icy patch." And I realized that I wasn't seeing the static of a corrupted file but the snow of a blizzard.

A Glabrau came into view, a smile across his face. "Raath is one big ice patch. Just -- we're almost there, OK? So be careful. We don't want to be late. The Advocates of Freedom seem like a jumpy bunch."

The camera showed a long upward slope with a dark hole near the top. A cave?

At the top, the Glabrau paused and turned to Trak. "You ready for this?" The view bobbed as Trak nodded her head.

They stepped into the cave, and I saw a ship just like the one that took Nexus and Iota away. A Saguarin and an Ezonite stepped from the shadows. Neither of those cultures would build a ship like that, let alone fly one.

Trak's Glabravian companion said, "Who are y'all? We're supposed to be meeting wireborn here." A rustling noise and then a blaster appeared in his hand.

"Easy," said the Ezonite. "You want to find Refuge? That's why you're here?"

"How do you know that?" asked the Glabrau.

The Ezonite took two steps closer. "You're not as sneaky as you thought."

The view shifted again as Trak seemed to lean to one side. Beside her, the Glabrau said, "Better start talking plain, or I'll put a hole in you."

Before the Ezonite could answer, the Saguarin stepped up beside his companion. "Everyone, be calm. We're simply refugees looking for a home. Just like your friends. We want the same things, surely. No harm can come between like-minded folk. So everyone just relax."

At the corner of the screen, I could see the Glabrau's weapon begin to lower, but just then Trak's arm came into view as an object left her hand. A blur and muffled sound as we suddenly got a close up of Glabravian fur. Trak was falling with the Glabrau as an explosion sounded.

The file playback stopped on a view that was part fur, part cavelight, part flames.

I typed a few commands and let the clip play again. As it ended once more, with fur and flame, I said, "EDI, is that-- I mean do you see any activity after-- I mean--"

"This is not where Trak died, Doctor. Although Trak's eye camera stopped recording, her vitals were strong."

"We need to go to Raath. I need to show this to Cosmic Peanut." I pushed away from the console and rushed toward the cockpit.

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grahamstoney · 11 years

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How To Handle Rejection: By Getting Even

New Post has been published on https://grahamstoney.com/relationships/handle-rejection-getting-even

How To Handle Rejection: By Getting Even

I know a lot of people are struggling these days with the whole concept of rejection. An invitation to grab a coffee with a cute member of the opposite sex is rudely declined, and you’re left feeling all alone in the world with nobody to console you. An offer to dance is declined because they’re “too tired”; and yet suddenly have a mysterious burst of energy when the next potential suitor comes along straight after. You send an SMS or leave a voicemail, and your so-called “friend” never gets back to you. Some days it’s just one rejection after another.

Rejection stings because it reminds you just how much you hate yourself. Someone else affirms the negative beliefs about yourself that you’ve got stashed away deep down in your unconscious, and suddenly you’re flooded with all the feelings of unworthiness and inadequacy that you’ve been avoiding ever since your earliest childhood experiences when you just weren’t good enough to make the grade.

But hang on a minute… who are they to put you in touch with such repressed inner pain by discarding your generous offer like that? You don’t deserve it. You’ve spent a lifetime avoiding that pain, and you’re certainly not about to go delving into it now. What’s all this “taking responsibility for your own feelings” bullshit anyway?

Fuck that.

So here’s how to really handle rejection; by getting even:

Step 1: Take It Personally

Now you may think that you’ve already mastered this step, but don’t be too quick to gloss over it. Remember, rejection isn’t about them. It’s not about their personal preferences, the mental state of their damaged psyche, their irrational moods, their foolish inability to see how great you are, or the other fifteen things that they had already booked at lunchtime on Friday.

It’s about you.

Rejection is all about you not being good enough. Inadequate and unacceptable the way you are. So suck it down and really take the rejection personally. Developing a truly paranoid state of delusional narcissistic thinking is necessary in order to generate the intense feelings of self-righteous outrage that you’re going to need to motivate you to carry out the remaining steps. They will liberate you from the pain of this particular rejection, so that you can move on to the next one life has to offer.

Step 2: Get Angry

Hurt and sadness have their place; but really, who wants to feel disempowering emotions like those?

Yuck. Talk about a victim mentality. Screw sadness and pain: get angry instead. That jerk who should have known better turned down your kind offer and that’s just plain wrong. So get as angry as you can. Beats the hell out of feeling sad. Anger gets your adrenaline pumping and prepares you to stand up for yourself. Once you’re full of rage at the appalling injustice that has been handed out to you through no fault of your own, you’re ready to really get even.

Step 3: Firebomb Their Letterbox

This juvenile prank isn’t just the providence of junior high-school boys with too much testosterone flooding their adolescent brain for the first time. It’s also a legitimate remedy available to adult you.

If you really want to go hard core on this, you’ll need some copper tubing, a small drill, gunpowder, matches, some explosives fuse, and a bench-mounted vice. I’m not going to go into all the details since I don’t want you to blow your fingers off, but suffice to say that any teenage boy can probably fill you in on them. Just check that the one you ask has all his fingers intact before following their advice.

But to be honest, that’s not really necessary. A bunch of off-the-shelf firecrackers will do the job quite adequately. All you really need to do is turn up when nobody else is around, preferably sometime between when the postman delivers the mail and when the object of your affection turns up to clear the letter box. Light your incendiary device(s) with the matches, offload it/them into said letterbox and make a run for it.

Christmas is the ideal time of year for this, as charred Christmas cards will make a nice keepsake to remind your victim not to be so hasty in rejecting you next time. But you don’t have to wait until Christmas to get this off your chest; a destroyed electricity bill can be equally effective in teaching them a lesson which will be hammered home nicely when the utility company comes along and cuts their power for non-payment of its indecipherable smoking remains.

I recommend you only do this on free-standing letterboxes, and only on days when there isn’t a total fire ban. You don’t want to end up burning a building down and ending up in prison for arson, as that will make the next step much more difficult.

Step 4: Start Stalking

Now we’ve all heard that “No means No!”, and that’s fair enough. But some people have become so jaded that rejection has become their habitual first response to any good thing that comes into their life… like you. In cases like these, don’t take “no” for an answer! If you just keep giving up at the first sign of difficulty, you’ll get nowhere in life. Life rewards persistence.

Some people just don’t know what’s good for them. In order to endow them with your healing presence, you may have to get past an initial “no” long enough to turn it into a “yes”. If they are particularly stubborn about maintaining their flawed belief that their life is better without you in it, then you really have no alternative than to prove them wrong by becoming a stalker.

When they appear to get angry at all the loving attention that you’re lavishing on them, just remind yourself that they’ll be thanking you when they finally learn to accept love from other people into their cold, dark heart. Most particularly from you. Be prepared for the long haul though as it could take quite some time, and several prison sentences on your part, before they come around to see everything that you have to offer.

Becoming a stalker is relatively easy. Obviously the first step is tracking down their home address, but that’s a sinch these days, what with Internet search and all. I’m not going to go into all the details lest my first girlfriend from high school decides she wants her come-uppance, but suffice to say that you’re more than smart enough to work it out. Which is why you’re such an asset to them in the first place, right? That and your great sense of humour, which I’m sure they’ll appreciate when you disable their home security system and turn up unannounced in their bedroom at midnight, just to spend some quality time together.

Step 5: Let It Go

After a few year of educating your victim on the benefits of your company, eventually it will be time to move on. By this time you will have caused them way more pain and annoyance than they ever caused you, meaning that the overall karmic flow between you and the universe is headed in the right direction.

It’s normal to feel a little sad at this point; this is a time for letting go. Dismantle the shrine that you have built in your bedroom towards the person in order to make space for someone else in your heart. You’re now ready to move on. Rejection is still about you, so it’s relatively easy to transfer your hurt feelings onto the next person who fails to engage with you.

Repeat as often as necessary until you decide it’s time to deal with those hurts within yourself so that you can stop taking rejection so personally. There… don’t you feel so much better now?

Note: Nothing in this post should be misconstrued as using or advocating violence.

#justice #rejection #retribution #Relationships

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

Could I please request an iswm one shot? I love space engineer mark sm, he’s so cute! Could you maybe just have mark and the captain dancing in the bridge? Slow or not doesn’t really matter, just ✨he✨ (Preferably very fluffy) (Totally fine if not, love your fics regardless!)

I've done more of the ISWM routes today and he definitely deserves more love.

And thank you! ❤

........

Finally, the Invincible II escaped that wormhole.

By some miracle it just...got unstuck by itself and carried on its journey. No Event Horizon Protocol necessary.

All of the failsafe explosives were carefully disarmed and stored away..just in case the ship gets stuck in another wormhole. Everyone was glad it was kept in one piece despite the numerous issues that arose.

Soon the colonists were going to reach their destination: a planet that both you and Mark found together, agreeing that it was the best one out there that suited all of their needs.

Of course, your crew had to celebrate.

They were partying, sharing drinks, and patting you on the back for an excellent job you’ve done as their loyal captain. Some did question your leadership skills, but in the end you won their trust back.

As for Mark, well, he only got minimal praise considering his ship’s many, many design flaws got everyone into that wormhole mess to begin with.

They would've thrown him out for sure had you not been the captain, trusting him as not only a crew member but also as a friend.

Still, that put a bit of a damper on his mood.

You noticed how sullen he seemed as he gazed out the large window on the bridge, looking at the stars and the planet the ship would soon land on.

At this point, everyone left for their chambers or other duties, so it was just you and him alone here now. You poured him some coffee and brought it to him. “Don’t worry about them, they’ll get over it. You've done great."

“Thank you, cap.” He sighed, accepting the drink with a smile of gratitude and taking a sip. “All I’m thinking about is that beautiful little planet that's just within reach. I guess we..only had to let the problem sort itself out. We didn’t have to do anything, really.”

“Except get the life support back on.”

“..true.”

“And extinguish the fire in here.”

“Right.”

“And fix the ADS-”

“Okaaaaay I get it, Captain.” He pouted, now facing you. “I know I messed up a lot-”

“[Y/n].”

“..huh?”

“Just call me, [y/n]. But if you prefer “Captain” I don’t mind it.” You shrugged, amused at Mark’s flabbergasted expression.

Though you turned away from him and went to the main console, searching for something on it.

The head engineer raised an eyebrow, wondering what you were looking for in such haste. And being the curious doofus that he was, he joined your side and saw you scrolling through...

A Spotify playlist?

He wasn’t sure who downloaded Spotify to the computer, but he just watched as you browsed through many space-themed songs.

Then you found one: Rocket Man by Elton John.

After hitting the play button, you smiled and turned up the volume as music filled the room. And you stepped back and began dancing a little.

Mark could only stare at you, his heart fluttering.

Not only did you dance good, but you looked amazing while doing it.

God, why were you so perfect?

Then you gazed at him and offered your hand. “Care to dance, rocket man?” You winked.

“M-Me??” He nearly squeaked. “I..uh..yeah!!”

Sharing a dance with the Captain??? He had to be dreaming. He wanted to slap himself just to make sure this wasn’t just his imagination.

But nope, this was very real.

You grinned and took his hand anyways, leading him into a sweet slow dance. It was easy to tell he was nervous--whether that’s because he’s never danced a day in his life or was dancing with you was a mystery. You led the way for him anyway, both of you taking turns singing the lyrics.

“And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time. Till touchdown brings me ‘round again to find-”

“I’m not the man they think I am at home. Oh no, no, no..I’m a rocket maaaaan. Rocket man! Burning out his fuse up here alone!”

You were almost taken aback by the passion he put into singing. Hell, if he didn’t wanna be an engineer his voice would’ve been great in a musical or movie.

Maybe after the colony was set up, you’ll bring that subject up to him.

For now, though, you just enjoyed this moment with your righthand man.

Sure, he wasn’t the brightest and had his faults. But he was always by your side no matter what.

That’s all you could ever ask for.

#clanask #anonymous #iswm x reader #in space with markiplier x reader #space mark x reader #iswm spoilers #fluff

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runningwithcoffee · 2 years

Text

Love Triangles, Champagne and Tequila Part 2: Coffee and Unexpected Calls

A sort-of spin-off to the masterful 'Three Hearts' by @cityfanchelseaslut.

Part 1 is here: Love Triangles, Champagne and Tequila

Word Count: 2712

Warnings: none really for this part, unless you count language and a bit of innuendo, but if you've read these two series so far, you're probably 18 or over.

***

“Oh, fuck off, Ben,” Mason growled as he stormed off, pulling his phone out and, Ben guessed, sending several messages to y/n in a panic.

Ben stared after his friend with a slightly wounded expression. Thanks, mate. I’ve just spent my night, which I should have been spending with a sexy blonde who wanted me to fuck her senseless, consoling YOUR crying girlfriend and letting her sleep in my bed whilst I told her it would all be fine, whilst I was also trying to tell YOU not to fuck that clout chaser whilst you were pissed off your head, and that’s what I get?

Beside him, John sighed. The two of them made eye contact, then broke off, staring at the ground.

“He’ll come round,” John offered glumly.

“Right now I can wait,” Ben muttered.

“Don’t blame you,” John sighed. “Complete fuck-up, this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. You off back home?”

“I’d better head back. Take care of yourself, yeah?” John headed inside to collect his things. Ben leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily. Time to… what? Go home, feed the dog, and get ready for next week’s training, although heading back to an empty flat did not have much appeal.

At that point, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, half-dreading what might be on there, but being pleasantly surprised by a message from someone he hadn’t expected to hear from.

[Jack] You free right now?

He’d spotted Jack hanging out with Phil Foden and Kevin de Bruyne at the back of the event venue last night and vaguely meant to go and say hello, but other things had got in the way. He decided to call Jack, being more than a bit fed up with text messages at the moment.

“Hiya, Chilly!” Jack picked up straight away. “You free, mate?”

“Yeah, where are you?”

“Phil’s room. He’s brought his missus and the kids with him, bit of a family trip for them. She’s off doing girl stuff at the spa, so I’ve been helpin’ him keep an eye on the babs.”

“Is he there now?”

“Nah, he’s taken the kids down to go have a swim with his missus and her mates. Wanna come up? Be good to see you.”

“Yeah, I would. What’s the room number?”

Five minutes later, he was knocking on the door on one of the higher floors of the hotel, Phil having gone for a suite of rooms big enough for his family. The door was flung open to reveal Jack Grealish, wearing a familiar-looking pair of ripped jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Chilly!” Jack grinned, flinging his arms around Ben with his usual golden retriever-like levels of enthusiasm. “Great to see you mate, come in!”

Ben grinned back. It was a relief to see someone who didn’t expect him to do anything other than turn up. He followed his friend into a huge room, which looked like an explosion in a toy shop had just happened on the floor. Jack picked up a glass of Coke, took a swig, and turned back to Ben, waving a hand at the fridge for him to help himself. Ben couldn’t help noticing that Jack looked surprisingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the morning after an evening out. Perhaps someone had finally managed to give Jack Grealish a “Stop Getting Drunk And Acting Like A Dickhead” lecture that had actually stuck. Ben found the kettle and made himself a coffee; he hadn’t really slept well during the night, feeling weird about going to sleep with Mason’s sort-of girlfriend in his bed.

“I see you got yourself a right sort last night,” Jack smirked, nudging him hard in the ribs. “How’d it go?”

“Good, good…” Ben murmured, suddenly reluctant to share details. He and Jack had told each other wild stories about girls ever since they were teenage lads exploring the thrilling possibility that being good at football meant you might persuade a real-life, flesh and blood girl to actually touch it. Quite a few of those stories, he reflected, had been complete bollocks, at least on his side. Probably on Jack’s, too, although it sometimes seemed like half the female population of the UK would happily fling their knickers at his feet, and no small part of the male population as well if he was interested.

He was saved from having to think of anything else to say by his stomach growling.

“Not eaten, mate?” Jack grinned.

“Been too busy,” he replied, realising that last night’s chicken dinner had been some time ago. Jack smirked, obviously getting the wrong idea, but it did mean that he wandered off to find the room service menu. Ten minutes later, Ben was digging into an omelette whilst Jack chewed on a steak baguette and scrolled through his phone, letting out a slightly-muffled crow of delight. “Found her Insta! Here.”

“Whose?”

“Your bird’s from last night,” Jack replied, then turned his phone so they could both see. Alyssa’s Instagram was… interesting, Ben thought. It looked to be entirely professional, mostly black and white promotional photos of her training clients, or training herself, lifting weights or running, standard poses that were actually pretty familiar to him from doing the same sort of shoots for Chelsea and England. Maybe that was what her clients went for, although he couldn’t help thinking that y/n would have got a bit more of Alyssa’s personality into the shots. Jack let out a whistle at one picture, a standard bench press photo with a hefty amount of weight on the bar, showing a very impressive amount of definition on her chest and shoulders.

“Hope you made her happy, mate, she looks like she could pin you to the bed if you pissed her off!”

“Funny you should say that,” Ben replied without thinking, then regretted it as Jack cackled with laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What, she did? She shagged you?”

Ben, ridiculously, found himself blushing. “Well… you know…”

“Nothin’ wrong with women on top, bit of a show, particularly with those tits!” Jack grinned. “She was good, yeah?”

“Could we… talk about something else?” Like, not Alyssa’s tits, thanks.

Jack cocked his head on one side, and regarded Ben with a slightly more thoughtful look than he was used to getting from the Brummie. “Alright… I have to say, for a bloke who spent the night getting his end away with a fit blonde, you don’t look like I’d expect.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, you look knackered, but you also look like someone’s trod on your dog.” Jack sighed. “Is it this thing that’s going on with Mase?”

“You know about that?”

“Stonesy told me some of it, I was wondering why Rube looked so fucked off half the time. What’s happenin’ there?”

“It’s a complete shitshow.” Ben finished the omelette, drained the rest of his coffee and sighed, then began filling Jack in on the events of the previous evening, the night, and the morning, emphasising several times that he and y/n had definitely not done anything other than cuddle whilst she sobbed all over him. When he was done, Jack let out a long sigh and screwed up his face.

“Fuck me, that is a shitshow.”

“Complete fucking nightmare.”

“And you only got to shag the blonde bird once.”

“Her name is Alyssa, and why are you so fucking nosey? Let me guess, you didn’t get any last night.”

Jack, fortunately, was hard to offend. He shrugged. “Yeah, she’s busy… so I’m here on me own. Trying to be a good boy though.” He smiled a rueful smile, and Ben reflected that his friend suddenly looked older. Not old, but… older. We’re not teenage lads anymore.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ben admitted.

Jack frowned. “It’s dead simple.”

“Hmm?”

“Do nothin'! Well, actually, do something. Ring this blonde bird – Alyssa, all right – take her out somewhere nice, buy her something nice, then take her back to yours, and stop worrying about where Mase is sticking his dick.”

“He’s my best mate! Well, you are, too, but…”

“He is 23 years old. He wears a fucking armband. He plays for England. He can decide for himself where he’s puttin’ it! And this other bird can either have him or not, or have Rube or not, or go off and shag Kepa or Stonesy, or whatever, but it’s not up to you. Just leave yourself out of it.”

“I can’t do that when they turn up at my room crying their eyes out.”

“Yeah, maybe that is a bit of a …thing,” Jack conceded, “but mate, this is not up to you to fix. Stay out of it, and tell them to sort out their own shitshow.”

“Funny you should say that,” Ben began for the second time that day, but was interrupted by the door opening and Phil Foden staggering through it with two small children attached to him. The older one immediately sprinted for the toys, whilst Phil expertly juggled holding the younger one with closing the door.

“Alright, mate?” Ben greeted him.

Phil grunted. “Yeah, not too bad. Give us a minute, I’ve got to sort this one out,” and he vanished into the bathroom. Jack shifted in his seat so he could keep an eye on the small boy playing.

“You might have a point,” Ben conceded.

“There’s no ‘might’ about it,” Jack fixed him with a firm look. “This is getting in the way of yourgame. Should have been your bird waking up next to you and-” he spotted the small boy, and apparently changed what he was going to say “-not this other one.”

Ben couldn’t help agreeing, particularly since, he realised, a certain amount of his pissed-off-ness with Jack going on about it was that he hadn’t really managed to see Alyssa’s breasts, or indeed all that much of the rest of her. That should have been a much longer night. He also realised, with a wince, that she might not have been too thrilled at having to do the walk of shame from his room barely an hour after everyone had seen her leaving with him. I should have told her to get a room and charge it to my account…

Ben’s musings were interrupted by a sudden ‘thud’ from beneath him, as Phil’s son ran over and collided with Jack’s calf, which didn’t budge an inch. “Unca Jack!” Jack looked down with the curiosity of a large golden retriever noticing a puppy, then reached down to scoop the small boy up and seat him on his knee; clearly, his own large family meant he’d spent a certain amount of time around small children. “That’s right, I’m Uncle Jack!”

The young boy grinned and started to point everywhere, chanting “Unca Jack, Unca Jack!”

“Don’t think he’s figured out what that means,” Ben chuckled.

“Yeah, they do this, the little ‘uns… Like they learn one thing and keep sayin’ it until they figure it out.”

“You should teach him to say something else,” Ben suggested.

An evil grin split Jack’s face. “You’re right, mate.” He bent down slightly, smiled at the boy, and said very slowly. “Repeat after me, ‘Chelsea-Are-Wankers’…”

At that moment, Phil appeared through the bathroom door, summoned either by parental instinct or perhaps just having remembered that it was a bad idea to leave either small children or Jack Grealish unsupervised for any length of time. He retrieved his son and glared at Jack. “Don’t you go teaching him that! If the missus hears him, I’ll be sleeping on the bloody sofa.”

“Bloody sofa?” the young boy repeated thoughtfully.

Jack looked at Phil reproachfully. “Phil, no bad language in front of the kids!”

Phil gave him a look that suggested it would be very unwise for Jack to leave his kit unattended at the Etihad for any time in the foreseeable future. Ben tried not to kill himself laughing. “Right, both of you, OUT! The missus and her mates are coming back up here.”

“No bother,” Jack pointed at their plates. “Pay you for those?”

Phil shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Just DON’T go teaching my kid anything else!”

Ben grinned. “Thanks, and fair enough, we’re off, but good to see you, Phil.”

Phil grinned back. “You too, see ya.”

They wandered out, accompanied by the sound of Phil’s young son repeating thoughtfully “Bloody sofa, Daddy?” Jack cracked up laughing the second they were through the door. Ben shook his head. “You don’t change, do you?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe a bit… got to move on, haven’t ya?” They walked back down to the floor with Jack’s room, one floor above Ben’s.

“Yeah, it’s not been too easy for you, has it?” Ben murmured as they stopped at Jack’s room so that he could finish packing.

“No,” his friend replied thoughtfully. “No, I didn’t expect it to be quite like this.”

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t?” Ben hadn’t quite meant to ask, but the question came out anyway.

Jack reflexively looked around for anyone listening, then shrugged and opened the door to his room, which, as usual, looked as though a bomb had gone off in it. Ben kicked the door shut behind them as Jack dropped down to sit on the bed.

“Honestly? Yeah, sometimes. The past few months, yeah, there’s been times I’ve thought, you were a fucking king at Villa, why did you leave? Like, do they actually need me? If I never hear ‘£100 million man’ again… like that’s some fucking magic thing that means I can just fit straight in and I don’t have to learn where Kev and Rube and Phil and the gaffer need me to be, and what I’m meant to be doin’… yeah, it’s not been good.”

Ben reflected that perhaps no-one, probably including Jack himself, had really thought about what it would be like for Jack to leave Villa for a new club having had almost no experience of having played anywhere else, particularly when that new club was City. “So, why did you?”

“Cause I thought to meself, you could stay here, at Villa. You could stay here until you stop playing, always be the local hero... and you’d always wonder, what if you’d had the balls to try it? To go somewhere else, somewhere I could play in the Champions League, play for the gaffer, see if I could get even better?” He shook his head. “I figured, I should just fucking go for it.” He grinned at his friend. “Like you should!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve met this bird last night, you’ve shagged her once-” Jack raised a hand to stop Ben interrupting him- “and now you’re tellin’ me to use her name and stop talking about her tits. You don’t just wanna leave it there, do you, Chilly? It’s not just Mase who’s wanting a girl, is it?”

Ben stared at him. Jack shrugged. “Look, I know everyone thinks I’m a big Brummie idiot, and they might be right, but I’m not totally dead between me ears. I wore an armband too, you know, you do have to keep an eye out for what’s going on. You should go for it, mate. It’s good, sometimes, having someone in your corner.”

Ben gave him am oh, really? look, to which Jack grinned ruefully. “Yeah, I know how that sounds, coming from me. I have carried on like a right dickhead sometimes, and I ain’t proud of it. But… you try. You just have to start again, and get on with it. She’s given you her number and told you to call her, it’s pretty fucking obvious what she wants!”

“Thanks, Jack.” Ben smiled. The Brummie smiled back, beginning to stuff his clothes back into a suitcase. Ben reflected that he should probably leave too. “See you round, yeah?”

“St George’s Park, you, me, Mase, big Buks, Pickers, Raz… be good. We go again.”

“We go again,” Ben agreed. His friend left off packing and gave him another hug.

“Listen to what I’m tellin’ you – stop worryin’ about where Mase is putting his dick, and think more about where you should be putting yours!”

***

Smut'n'angst returns in Part 3.

#chelsea fc #football #imagine #chelsea #england nt #fanfic #premier league football #ben chilwell #mason mount #mason mount fanfic #ben chilwell fanfiction #jack grealish

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toastedside · 3 years

Text

In Health

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: Angst, Angry Tim Drake

Note: I knoooooow it's been a while since I wrote this series and I actually have finished it a while ago. Just figure I want to share the rest. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

You bit the inside of your cheeks, your eyes travelled constantly to the watch on your wrist. The iced coffee you ordered fifteen minutes ago already half gone. Metropolis was bright and sunny that day, the weather was warm and nice. A welcomed contrast to gloomy Gotham with its perpetual cloud.

The coffee shop Lois had told you about was buzzed with hungry patrons, considering it was almost lunchtime anyway. It was a breath of relief that nobody would recognize you on the first glance, something you had learned fairly quickly since Bruce had publicly claimed you years ago. If you went somewhere with shirts and jeans and nothing shiny, nobody would recognize you that you are Y/N Wayne.

You glanced into your watch again for the millionth time that day. Was the request to meet up too much for them? Were you too harsh on them back in the days? It’s unusual for–

“Hey, oh my god, we’re so sorry. Our meeting last longer than we expected.”

Lois suddenly came into frame. Behind her was a slightly disheveled Clark, eyeing her behind his glasses hesitantly. Something sank at the bottom of you stomach by the sight alone, perhaps you were indeed way too harsh on him.

“It’s alright, I didn’t wait that long anyway,” you mustered a white lie as you gestured them to take a seat across yours. “How’s Jon doing? I miss him coming over on the weekend.”

“He is fine. Clark and I bought him a video game console on his birthday and all he’s been doing was glued his eyes on the TV,” Lois rolled her eyes fondly at the topic of her own son, something you've been doing for years since you are a mother too. “How are the kids?”

“I figure Jon had been talking about his video games with Damian. He asked me if he could buy one just yesterday,” you laughed. “The kids are fine, per usual. Dick and Jason had been a little busy with their job, so they usually only come over on the weekend. Damian tried to woo me into adopt another pet again last week, Cass been practicing ballet a lot lately, and Tim... well... it’s been a little tough for him to fill Bruce’s shoes in the company but he’s doing well so far.”

There was a little shift in the air after you finished. Lois subtly adjusted her seat, silently sent a look towards her husband who looked a little too nervous to be comfortable. It would be funny to see Superman himself squirmed on his seat if the reason behind it didn’t left a bitter aftertaste.

“Lunch?” you swiftly opened the menu book to dissipate the growing tension and gently shoved it into Clark’s lap. “It’s on me.”

The lunch was surprisingly normal and calm, the thought of the dreading event was swept away underneath the nonexistent rug. Lois had been talking about the newest article she was writing about and Clark was obviously waltzed around carefully to not touching the superhero business, and you played your best to ignore it.

“Lois, Clark,” you started as everyone finally finished their lunch and the empty plates were taken away. “I am here to apologize for what I have done... three months ago. And what I might have said.”

There was silence hung in the air as Lois and Clark shared a look together. It was Lois who immediately reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. “Hon, you have nothing to apologize for. We understand, you were–”

“It was still rude and uncalled for, and my circumstance was a mere explanation. Especially to you, Clark,” you rolled your shoulders slightly to face Clark better, eyes fell into the balled fist on his lap. “You were only trying to explain, but I shut you out. I know you lost your best friend too that night and I am so sorry I didn’t try to reach you out sooner.”

“Y/N, it’s–”

“No, no, it’s not.” you breathed shakily. You had prepared your best for this inevitable conversation, but still unaware how painful it could be. “Bruce wouldn’t want me to act that way.”

Silence now had fallen completely and the air had shifted drastically. The only thing that grounded you from withering away and succumb into your own thought was Lois’s thumb gently stroking your wrist. Clark was stunned silent on his seat, the gears on his mind worked twice harder than it usually did in past three months. Nothing had prepared him for this conversation.

“Y/N, I forgive you. I already had long ago. I understand completely, and I would probably act worse if I were in your shoes,” Clark breathed out. All the tension in his shoulders that hinder him in the last forty-five minutes had dissipated into the thin air.

“Thank you,” you lifted your eyes to meet his. Sometimes you forgot how unnaturally blue his eyes were, cold and calculating, even though the corner of his eyes and the smile lines soften it out. It almost reminded you with Bruce. “Can you... can you tell me what happened that night? You were there with him, didn’t you?”

Lois and Clark shared another look, something told you that both knew what you didn’t. “Are you sure you want to hear this now?”

“I need my closure, Clark. And I’d love to know which son of a bitch that take my husband away.”

Clark told you everything in vivid details, the hairs on your shoulders stood in dread by the explanation alone. He talked about the League mission, the warehouse, and the explosion that had killed Bruce and suspected blown his body into unrecognizable tiny bits. By the time he was finished, you were close to tears, and was pleasantly surprised you didn’t weep your heart outs right away in a public place.

“One question,” you wiped the stubborn tears that started to well on your eyes. You mustered a silent thank you as Clark offered his handkerchief. “Was Red Robin there? Was Red Robin called for backup?”

“I can’t remember. What about him?”

You took a sharp breath, the image of Tim weeping on your lap and repeating his apology played inside your mind like a broken movie. “He obsessively investigating his death, saying it was his fault it happened in the first place.”

Lois tighten her grip on your hand and squeezed harder. It wasn’t a secret that your son was bad at letting go and coping with loss, but it had been a huge toll to knew he blamed himself for it. Clark sent you an apologetic look, and you were surprised that you didn’t dread the look.

“It wasn’t his fault. It was supposed to be an easy investigation, an in-and-out mission. Nobody could come prepared for the explosion,” Clark reassured you, although it was addressed more to Tim instead of you. “The machines...”

A sudden rang from Clark’s phone interrupted his words. He watched it rang briefly before let out a dreading, long sigh. “I’m so sorry, but I really need to take this.”

You smiled reassuringly. “Go on.”

Turns out, Lois and Clark had been called for another meeting and had to cut their meeting short. Lois had hugged you tight and drop a promise to come over by weekend for dinner. Clark left a lingering touch on your wrist, his eyes widen as if he had come into a realization he hadn’t before, but he left before he able to muster any single words.

The ride back to Gotham was long and tedious. The traffic had made the trip an hour and half longer than it was necessary, but the sunset at the horizon was a sight for sore eyes. The chance to catch a beautiful sunset was close to zero in Gotham, so you preserved the moment as much as you could. A little part of your soul wished Bruce could witness such sight with you.

You arrived right before dinnertime, the manor was surprisingly quiet, spared for some noises Alfred made in the kitchen as he prepared for dinner. One thing about Wayne household was silent wasn’t a good thing, and one should be suspicious if it happened.

“Where are the others? It’s eerily quiet.” your head popped up in the kitchen. “Alfred, it smells delicious. Are you making Shepherd’s pie again?”

“Miss Y/N, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t surprise me like that anymore,” Alfred deadpanned. “Yes, I am. How was your meeting?”

“It went well. I... I finally get the explanation I deserved,” you sat across the kitchen island, your bag fell into the floor as you did. “Thank you for convincing me into reaching out to him.”

Alfred pressed his lips together into a pleased smile. “You have found your closure, I assumed?”

“I don’t know about that, Alfred,” you admitted. “But it was great to finally know what happened and not left in the dark. Maybe it was a good step for me.”

“I believe so, Miss Y/N.”

“Are those teas for the kids?” you shifted the topic away into a tray full of teacups and biscuits. “Where are they?”

“All of them are cramped together in Batcave, I believe. Master Damian had asked me to brought them some teas.”

“Let me take it to them. You can continue bake your Shepherd’s Pie again.”

Alfred was hesitant, but he nodded away and shoved the tray into your embrace. It had been long overdue for you to step back into the Batcave anyway, figured this would be a great time for you to go back.

You forgot how much you hated the perpetual coldness the Batcave seemed to persistently have, no matter how many efforts everyone had put years ago into make this place warmer and comfortable. The sound of your children bickering with each other filled the cave and it made you smile, for all of its worth, you had always admired your children’s tendency to find things to argue about.

It was until the sound of fist slammed against the table that stopped you in your track and wiped away your smile.

“Stop it, Timbers, stop this fucking bullshit!” Jason’s voice roared, followed with the ear-ripping screeches of bats that had been awoken from their slumber by his roaring voice alone.

“I am telling you the truth!” Tim said heatedly, which was alarming. You quickly hid yourself in the shadows between the costume displays, finding yourself a better spot to watched your children without being known. “Why can’t you believe me?”

“Look at me in the eye and tell me that was not a fucking bullshit!”

“Tim, bud, come on. You need to stop. This isn’t healthy,” Dick’s concerned voice chimed in between the heated stares Jason and Tim exchanged. Your heart sank from that words alone, Tim must had investigating again. “You have us. We can get through this together. But not like this.”

“TT. Drake, you have started to creep me out,” Damian’s equally concerned voice, albeit masked with his usual scowl and sarcasm, piped in. “Also, you look like you hadn’t sleep since you were born.”

“Thanks for the flattery. But listen–”

“Stop it. Stop. Shut your mouth!” Jason yelled again. His finger intimidatingly pointed towards Tim, his eyes filled with rage and frustration. “Have you heard yourself talking?”

“Won’t you all give me a fucking minute to explain myself?” Tim stood from his chair; his fist crumpled together into a ball clenched on his side. It was such an eerie sight to see him so worked up like this. “Cass?”

You saw Cass silently shook her head. She sent Tim an apologetic smile as Tim groaned in frustration.

“Why none of you would just listen to me?”

“Tim, there is no way in hell Bruce is still alive!”

The roar that came from Dick was eerie, but it was his words that split your world into half. You didn’t realize the tray had slipped from your grasp until it clashed with cold floor, your gasp was masked with the loud clang of the tray hitting the floor and the sound of teacups shattered into pieces. All eyes followed towards the sound, and all were surprised to spot their mother was there.

You saw from the corner of your eyes that Dick walked towards you. His shoulders were tensed, his eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and anger. But your eyes fell on Tim whose eyes widen in horror upon realizing that your unknown presence was lurking all these times. You could mentally see the guilt that slowly seeped through his initial shock, the blue in his eyes waver slightly with the swirling guilt. You walked towards Tim, and from the look on his face alone, you wondered if you looked as if you were about to swallow him whole.

“Mom...” Tim croaked.

“Mom, it’s alright. It was nothing.”

“Ma, let’s go upstairs. It’s dinnertime, you never like it when we–”

“Tim.” The firmness on your voice effectively silence your two oldest sons out. Your hands gently placed on Tim’s shoulders as you shut your eyes and counted from one to ten. “Tell me everything.”

“W-what?”

“Tell me everything you know. Tell. Me. Everything.”

“Mom, I don’t think you should see it.”

“He was my husband, Tim. I deserve to know.”

Tim pressed his lips together, his eyes travelled up slowly before he let out a sigh. “Just tell me to stop when it gets too much.”

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insomniacowl · 3 years

Text

Neon genesis Evangelion Analysis Chapter 23: Katsuragi Misato Part 2 Dear Shinji, this is my will.

Misato: So you don't want to meet your dad?

Just like me

Let us start from the beginning. The scene in the first episode where Misato drives down to meet Shinji. Her first words to him were, "Sorry, I made you wait." This, I believe, is the first of many times their interactions will revolve around the theme of "Waiting." The line also contrasts with her final words to Shinji, "Let's continue when you get back."

Her cross is first brought to our attention through Shinji's eyes as Misato shields him from the blast of explosions from the Self-defense force's missiles used against Sakiel. Then, on their way to NERV, Shinji confides to her about his feelings towards Gendou. Misato empathizes, saying, "You're just like me," pointing to their commonalities.

She later consoles Shinji as he refuses to pilot Eva-01 and tells him to "Not run away from himself." At this point, she was already seeing herself reflected in Shinji, and those words were meant for herself as well.

After this point, Misato constantly finds herself reflected on Shinji. While it has a positive influence, like in episode 1, it also frequently caused Shinji to hurt. One criticism viewers lay on Misato is the sarcastic tone she sometimes takes when talking to Shinji about his actions. "You don't want to pilot the Eva? With that kind of determination…. What a pain!", Is one of the harsh words directed at Shinji. Even in episode 12, her cold reaction to Shinji's contemplation regarding Asuka is also, in its own way, infamous.

Yet, if we consider that she sees a lot of herself in Shinji, those lines come to represent her self-contempt rather than how she sees the fourteen-year-old. Misato was not really in the position to take care of teenagers if we consider her character flaws.

While such actions are worthy of criticism, there is room to empathize considering the traumas she had to endure, which has shaped the kind of "Adult" she became. As a young child, she was in the center of the Second Impact, and the psychological impact has led to her being mute for a few years. However, she seemed to have eventually recovered. Perhaps to compensate, we are told that she became an overly happy and talkative person. On top of this, she has studied hard and become a student at the Second-Tokyo city University. She met and began living with Kaji in the year 2005, at the age of twenty. According to Ritsuko, she even had a week-long sex marathon with Kaji, where neither of them left the house during the period.

To elaborate on her constant need for physical pleasure, we can start from the glimpse of her inner monologue we get during the instrumentality. We learn that it was one of the few things she had control over that made her feel alive when she was intimate with Kaji. Yet she breaks up with him because She saw a glimpse of her father reflected in him, although that was what got her attracted to him in the first place.

What are you embarrassed about? You wanted the man you love to see you for who you were. NO!

I wonder about that. You wanted your father to see you for who you were. That's not true!

We can identify Misato as struggling with Electra Complex (Oedipus Complex for girls) regarding how she views her father. She then attempted to quench the thirst for affection her father failed to provide her from a different man who felt similar to him. This can be observed through Kaji and Shinji. Two people sharing the same character flaws as her father (Workaholic and being bad at human interaction) being the two people she opened herself up to (Mentally, emotionally, and sexually). Misato was hoping to compensate for the loss she suffered and recover from her past trauma using her relationship with these two.

Consciously or unconsciously, she likely understood this side of herself. She felt disgusted by herself, leading to her breaking up with Kaji while punishing and labeling herself as someone "Undeserving to love." While her relationship with Kaji was open and overtly described in the series, some of you might wonder how Shinji is involved in this process. Especially regarding the sexual aspect of this analysis.

We can definitively say that Misato and Shinji do not share a simple Guardianship relation. But the discussion about Misato and Shinji can wait for now. First, let us discuss Hyuga Makoto.

Hyuga is seen approaching Misato as more than just a direct superior at work (Especially after Kaji's death). "Only if it's with you (I don't mind dying from the base self-destructing)." It is a telling line that highlights Hyuga's feelings that he begins acting on in the latter part of the series. Turning him into a more dimensional character. While Misato seems to be aware of such advances, we never see her acting on it. Neither accepting nor rejecting him outright. Since this is at the low point of her emotional journey, Misato would have been okay with anyone. Thus, it makes us wonder if there could have been more intimacy between the two off-screen. I'd argue that Hyuga died a virgin (or at least that there was no sexual relationship between the two) based on Hyuga's fantasy during the instrumentality.

To bring our discussion back to Kaji, we are shown that he was the first man she trusted and gave her first intimacy to. At the same time, she was someone Kaji was able to trust and be vulnerable with. We never see either of them refer to each other by their names. While the reason is not depicted, we can make an educated guess and say that it stems from their determination to interact professionally. Without letting their (embarrassing) past hinder their work.

But perhaps it was destined that this guise was not meant to be. In episode 15, we see the two confide in each other. Misato laments about her father and her regret of not being a good lover for Kaji. Kaji embraces and accepts her of it. The last time they ever shared a bed, Kaji gives her his final present. His death led to Misato shedding many tears, but the present helped guide her to her next step. Before this point, we see her constantly drinking her favorite beer, but never after this event. All we see her drink from then on is canned coffee, Kaji's favorite drink. And now, two peoples' worth of "Will" lived on inside her. One from her father, the other from Kaji.

Now, let's discuss the last "Male" in her life: Shinji. As mentioned earlier, Shinji was more than just a child under her care. Shinji's first introduction of Misato was through her photo that she sent him. It is a revealing photo of herself with arrows drawing attention to her breast. As a side note, the actual words in this image were written by Anno himself, and the lipstick mark was from one of the female Gainax staff.

From the photo, we can see that Misato wants Shinji to see her as more than a potential caretaker (as ethically should), but as someone of opposite gender and a "potential" love interest. Although, of course, we can brush it aside as a part of her quirky and fun-loving attitude. But the problem arises in the latter part of the series where this attitude crosses the line. The suspicion is confirmed in the official pamphlet's character introduction describing her as Shinji's family + co-worker + superior + "lover."

Misato: Shinji, I'm going in. This is about all I can do for you right now.

Shinji: No!

The scene central to this discussion happens in episode 23 when she takes her seat next to Shinji, who is grieving the death of Second Rei on his bed. Although surface-level reading is, Misato wants to hold his hands to comfort him. If that is the case, the line "This is all I can do for you right now" is unnecessary. And not only that, but Shinji's rejection of this advance is also too strong to justify the conclusion of the surface level analysis. If anything comes to mind about an act that two grown-up adults do on the bed is "Sex."

Even if we try to give the benefit of the doubt and stay at the surface-level conclusion that is psychologically comfortable, this is Evangelion. It refuses psychological comfort. The film book released by Gainax has a note about this scene that says, "Misato is attempting to give Shinji her body." This is even alluded to in the shot right before the line, the head of the chair being where Shinji's Penis would be, and Misato coming to sit right on top of it.

Throughout the series, both Misato and Asuka approach Shinji as the "Other sex." it's natural for Asuka since they are the same age. However, it is unnatural to think of Misato (Who is twice his age) approaching Shinji sexually (neither should be accepted). So let's dive into how Misato might think about that. As early as episode 2, we are shown Misato yelling at Ritsuko through the phone, saying, "There is no way I will lay my hands on a boy!". This is perhaps foreshadowing what she will be doing in the later part of the series. So what changed in her throughout the series that she would end up trying to lay her hands on Shinji sexually. Did she genuinely believe that it was the only way she can console Shinji? Or perhaps there was a more selfish reason, to distract herself from the sadness of losing Kaji? Well, it could be both. There is a middle ground and an explanation that I prefer. Kaji was the only man she allowed herself to be vulnerable with. Because the best means of communication between the two have been sexual, she most likely believed this to be the most effective way to empathize and be vulnerable with Shinji.

We can see this as another manifestation of her Electra complex if we consider that Shinji also reminds her of her father.

As many of you are aware, Evangelion borrows concepts from psychology and is strongly influenced by Freudian psychoanalysis. Psychological terms are heavily used, especially in later episodes. The characters' internal conflicts are put into the spotlight in episodes 18, 19, and 20. All these episodes use terms from psychoanalysis for their title. Let me touch on each of them briefly over here. Episode 18's title is "Ambivalence." It refers to the coexistence of two conflicting emotions (Love and hate) regarding something and was coined by Eugen Bleuler in 1911. Freud borrowed this term in his analysis. His followers believed it to be an essential state that leads to the sadistic sub-phase of development. Episode 18 is also when the dummy-controlled Eva Unit-01 destroys Bardiel. Thus the title can also help us understand the Destrudo-led sadistic destruction of the dummy program.

Episode 19's title is "Introjection" and was a term heavily used by Freud. It is the unconscious adoption of the ideas or attitudes of others and a psychological defensive mechanism used by the ego to minimize anxiety. Almost every human being goes through this phase and is a part of healthy development as an individual. Episode 19 is when Shinji emits a strong dose of Destrudo and achieves a 400% synchronization rate. Here, we can try to explain the use of this term for the episode title in two ways. The first is to refer to the synchronization process of the pilot and the Evangelion. Secondly (and more specifically to the episode), to refer to Shinji becoming an individual that has become a part of Unit-01. Becoming a part of Unit-01 who have just absorbed the S2 engine and become as though god.

Last is episode 20, titled "Oral stage," and is the stage central to Freud's theory of Libido's development. Libido is the potential sexual energy, and Freud categorized the development into four distinct stages, starting with the oral stage. During this stage of development, the child clings onto its mother's breast for nourishment. This is also when the child begins to develop the ability to distinguish between themselves and the other. The significant happening of episode 20 is salvaging Shinji from Unit-01's Core, trying to bring Shinji back as an individual and away from the comfort of his mother. This can be seen to parallel the child leaving its mother's womb and coming to be born into its own person. And to add, they had to inject Libido into the Core to salvage him.

To return from our long detour, Evangelion is a series that heavily draws its conceptual inspiration from Psychology and Freudian psychoanalysis. What Freud posits, and perhaps most central to his scholarship, understands that desires created by both Libido and Destrudo, any forms of mental energy are irresistible and irrepressible. That is to say, if during one's development if any of such mental energies' expressions are disturbed and blocked off, it will results in the development of harmful coping mechanisms as an adult. In the case of Misato, her father's absence resulted in the absence of ways to healthily release her Libido. Therefore, Misato's inappropriate advance towards Shinji could manifested the harmful coping mechanism she developed as a child.

Losing her father as a child resulted in dysregulation in Libido. Losing Kaji, the only person she truly loved, left Masato broken. At this point, she had no other way to release her desires other than laying hands on a vulnerable child. When both Shinji and Penpen refused her the physical affection she needed, she could only find comfort in listening to Kaji's final voice message in repeat. Yet, she did not lose all possibility to recover. She was able to dry out her tears and began to follow the road her father once took. This leads her to analyze the evidence Kaji passes onto her and begins questioning the truth behind Rei. By the end, she manages to reach close enough to understand the "Truth." This is how she was able to explain to Shinji what was going on. She also experiences character growth through this process, becoming able to fully understand and empathize with the pain of others.

This is also when we see her starting to differ from Asuka. While both lost Kaji, whom they both loved, Misato comes to accept this loss and can carry herself as an adult. By the end, she was mature enough to send the grieving Shinji to Unit-01 during the End of Evangelion. While Misato has always convinced Shinji to get on the Eva, now, she was different from the past. Unlike in episode 4, where she emotionally manipulated Shinji into piloting Eva. Unlike episode 12, where she drew a hard line and coldly forced him. In EOE, she was no longer forcing Shinji out of her own hatred of the angels. All there was, was a grown adult's desire to convince a child that "Life is worth living." Even if she were to die during this process. All there was, was Misato's advice as an adult to the crying child. And it was this "will to live" that was passed on from Misato to Shinji.

Misato places her necklace on Shinji's hands and wraps his hands around it. Just as how she once held onto it while facing death in its face. Her father's memento. The love towards one's family. Hope for humanity. And all else that the cross symbolized. And the cross passed on from Misato to Shinji like the passing of the torch. To pass on the will to live. This was followed by a grown-up's kiss, just like how Kaji showed her, the perfect way to, perhaps the only way to fully communicate this will and pass it on. To want the other to continue living and hoping to live on as a part of their memory.

With the kiss, Misato stopped pretending to be Shinji's inept guardian.

She sent Shinji off, hoping that he could become a grown-up who can stand by himself.

Misato: You will be alone from this point on. You need to choose for yourself.

Shinji: No. I can't.

Misato: Crying isn't going to solve anything, either!

Misato: You hate yourself, don't you? That's why you hurt others. Deep down, you know that you suffer more when you cause someone else pain than if you just let yourself get hurt. But Shinji, that was your decision, so that makes it a valid choice. That's what you wanted, so that makes it worthwhile, Stop lying to yourself, and realize that you do have options. Then accept the choices that you made.

Shinji: But you're not me. You don't understand!

Misato: So what if I'm not you?! That doesn't mean it's okay for you to give up! If you do, I'll NEVER forgive you as long as I live.

Misato: I'm not perfect either. I've made tons of stupid mistakes, and later, I regretted them. And I've done it over and over again. A cycle of hollow joy and vicious self-hatred. But even so, every time, I learned something about myself.

Please, Shinji. You've got to pilot Eva and settle this once and for all. Find out why you came here. Why you exist at all.

And when you've found your answers, come back to me. Promise me. See you soon.

Kaji: Go and do what you can. No one will force that choice on you. Think for yourself and decide for yourself. GO and do what you must right now. So that you don't live to regret it.

Misato: If I had known it would end like this, I would have changed the carpet as Asuka suggested.

Many discussions about Eva centered around her last words, the one about the Carpet and Asuka. Most of the theories have interpreted it with the spilled coffee during the instrumentality scene. I'll touch on the scenes shown in instrumentality in future chapters. But for the discussion here, note that the coffee was not spilled on the carpet during the instrumentality scenes. So I'd instead interpret this line separately from it. Personally, I believe this to be Misato, as an adult, regretting not being as kind and compassionate as she could have been to Asuka.

Unlike Shinji, who she managed to pass on her will and true feelings, she did not have that privilege with Asuka. Instead, she wallowed in her sadness, not looking out for Asuka, who was herself suffering from traumas and grief. The regret of not being a good guardian and not making the home comfortable for Asuka would have hit her as waves of regret crashed in as she laid bleeding cold on the floor of section R-20.

After Shinji, who she just sent off, Asuka, who she feels sorry for, After Penpen, who was always there for her, Kaji now crosses her mind. Was she waiting for his praise for passing on his will to Shinji?

As though she can see him, she stares at the sky. Right before the explosion, we see Rei standing over her. Perhaps it was Lilith who traveled through time.

And we come to the final scene of the EoE. Shinji and Asuka are lying down on the shore, staring at the sky. At this moment, we are reminded of Misato through the cross, now nailed to a wooden post. The cross has come to symbolize Misato's hope and dreams for the two children who will now be growing up into two adults. Will Misato be able to revert back to her human form by her soul desiring it? Nobody knows. But I don't think that matters. Because now, Shinji carries on her will.

Let's continue when you get back.

I'm back. Welcome back.

Welcome Shinji, this is your new home.

I'm back.

Welcome back!

Sorry, made you wait!

TBC Chapter 24: Ritsuko Part 1 Mother and Daughter

#Neon genesis evangelion #Evangelion #Eva #End of Evangelion #Nge #Nagisa Kaworu #Lilith #Sci-fi #Ikari Shinji #Soryu Asuka Langley #Asuka #Ayanami Rei #rei #Anno Hideaki #Katsuragi Misato #Kaji Ryoji #Anime #Analysis #Review

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thatlastdanceofchances · 3 years

Conversation

Torchwood: Coffee by James Goss

Kathy: The world is such a mess, isn't it?

Ianto Jones: It could have been so much worse.

Kathy: That's all you're offering me? As consolation?

Ianto Jones: It's Torchwood's back-up motto. Look, it's not all explosions.

Kathy: Still going.

Ianto Jones: Some of the alien stuff can be exciting.

Kathy: For you. Not for us.

Ianto Jones: The other day, the green sunset? The one people came and took photos in front of?

Kathy: They never did.

Ianto Jones: It's your profile picture.

Kathy: You...

Ianto Jones: We have a powerful computer with no sense of personal space. The point is that that sky was a lost race, signalling that they were ready to come home. Ten thousand years in the darkness and we found them. And got them home. Those were the lights.

Kathy: They were beautiful.

Ianto Jones: Next time. Next time there's fire and screaming, remember the pretty lights. It might help.

#torchwood #coffee #ianto jones #1/ that torchwood back-up motto...yeah that tracks #2/ this is lovely to see that ianto still finds wonder in his work #and takes the time to help people to find it too #the world has been cruel to ianto jones but he still finds beauty in it #a quote a day keeps the master away

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

The Answer is Love

“You rescued me when my mind was a prison. You set me free when no one else would listen. Now I finally feel complete, and I will follow you into the sea of eternity-” Broadside

-Crescent City AHOEAB dribbles because I love these two idiots <3 Prompts are currently open.

CW- Pure fluff only

Ear Ache-

Bryce woke up knowing the day would be terrible.

Pain stabbed through her skull like shards of glass through the soft flesh of her brain. She felt cold but knew her skin would be hot to the touch. Every little noise sent lashes of pain through her ears that ripped and tore until all she wanted to do was curl into a ball on her bed and cry.

She had an ear infection.

A common condition that put could put most fae out for days. Even a half-breed like her. Their ears were sensitive on an average day, like delicate instruments, they picked up the slightest sounds and caught the faintest melodies. They also required a lot of care. Tiny pains that would only pose a sight nuisance to most creatures could send a fae soldier to their knees.

Bryce had only suffered through this a couple of times in her life. Once when she was a toddler and her mother had just met Randall. When Ember couldn't console her crying child and was on the brink of an exhausted mother meltdown, Randall swooped in and saved the day. He'd laid her over his shoulder and massaged the insides of her ears. A trick he'd learned in Pangera to soothe fae children whose sensitive hearing became shot from the explosives.

It could put Bryce to sleep in minutes, and Randall still bragged to the present day. Not that she complained. Even as a teenager with school-induced migraines, she would lay her head in his lap, and just the comfort of it could ease the ache in her head...and her heart.

Bryce wished he was here now as she smothered her head under a pillow to block out the hum of the firstlights. Pain. Shattering, consuming pain.

"Bryce, are you awake?" Hunt knocked on her door.

Damn his knocking. Bang. Bang. Bang. Her eyes watered, and tears poured down her face. Bryce would holler for him to please shut up if the sound of her blood rushing through her head wasn't bothering her.

"Bryce?" The door creaked open. She'd put off oiling the hinges. Squeel, Squeak, Scratch.

She sobs quietly.

A feather-soft touch brushes against her cheek. "Tell me what's wrong, Sweetheart."

His warm voice that would typically send chills down her spine makes her body quake in a not so pleasurable way. Bryce doesn't dare reach up to touch the source of her pain for fear they may suddenly erupt. Thankfully, Hunt notices her flinch. His eyes crawl up her figure, scouring her for illness or injury.

"My ears," she mouthes to him.

Hunt's eyes shine with sympathy. He picks up Bryce's phone from her bedside table and shines the light on bright down into them. His eyes squint, and he examines them with as much care as a medwitch.

Frowning at whatever he discovers, Hunt makes his way out of the room with all the quietness of the Umbra Mortis. When he comes back, he has a long, heating compress in his hands. One that Bryce used to wrap around her thigh on bad days when she still had the venom from the kristallos clinging to the bone.

Gently guiding her into a sitting position, Hunt squeezes himself behind her so that her back is flush to his chest. He takes the heating compress, lays it across his front, and then carefully positions Bryce's head, so one ear lays against the warmth.

A large, scarred hand appears at her mouth and slips a tablet between her lips, followed by an icy drink of water. A softly hummed melody vibrates the side of her face, soft enough not to disturb her ears. The rhythm is low and soothing, making Bryce's eyes droop in content.

A warm finger massages the ear that faces away from him, helping release the pressure building up inside it. Relief wells up in Bryce so strongly that a breathy sigh escapes her lips.

Soon, she is blissfully asleep in a cocoon of soft velvet feathers.

When she wakes, it's late in the afternoon. The fading sunlight forms a warm pool on the floor where Syrinx is curled up happily. Bryce nestles her head against the hard pillow of Hunt's impressive pecs. Cracking her eyes, she sees a pair of shoes that are not his at the bedside.

"Ruhn?" Bryce's voice is barely a whisper to keep from agitating her own ears.

He looks a little too smug at their position and waves a small dropper and bottle in her face. "Hunt texted me that you would need this," Rhun said, matching her volume, keeping his voice soft. "Also, I fed Syrinx. You're welcome. He was nearly about to break in here and bite your ass."

Bryce laughed, then winced at the spike of pressure throbbing in her ears. The motion of which causes Hunt to stir beneath her.

Rhun looks at her in sympathy. "Come on. I'll help you put the drops in."

Careful not to wake Hunt, Rhun grabs her under the arms and moves her to the foot of the bed. Tilting her head, Bryce allows him to drip the correct number of droplets in each ear.

The relief is swift as the throbbing subsides to a dull ache. "That's some powerful stuff."

A shift of the bed, Hunt's eyes open, and he quickly takes in her state and the number of people in the room. Of course, he wouldn't be able to sleep through the invasion of their shared space, even if it was just her brother—insufferable males. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I meant to wake you before Ruhn got here, but I dozed off."

He sits up and gathers her in his arms once more. Bryce is more than content to comply, his warm body like a drug to her too-cold skin.

Hunt lets her nuzzle her face into his neck as he gives Ruhn a predatory look over the top of her head. "You can go now."

"I literally just got here," her brother complains, brows furrowed in annoyance.

Hunt leans back with Bryce in his arms, combing a hand through her wine-dark hair. "You could have just called up and given me the drops downstairs, but you showed yourself inside. "You've brought me the medicine, and now you've overstayed your welcome. Your sister is very sick. Not fit for company."

Bryce could swear the testosterone was flying in the air like sparks as they got into a silent pissing contest with one another.f

Grumbling, Ruhn finally concedes and bids her goodbye. Cursing out Hunt for his lack of appreciation as he shows himself out the door.

"There. All better. Now we can watch Lunathion Lover's Lockdown without judgment. It's a new episode." She looks up at Hunt to find him mischievously grinning down at her. "We can make popcorn."

"Popcorn and Trash TV?" Bryce murmurs. "You really know the way to my heart, Athalar."

Hunt moves her to the couch and buries her in a mound of blankets. After coffee, popcorn, and several hours of mind-numbing reality shows- albeit at a barely audible volume- Bryce felt leagues better.

Later on, after Hunt had gone to take a shower, she opens her messages to see Ruhn had texted to check on her. Juniper had dm-ed her and offered to bring food by for both of them. And she had missed calls from her mother that Bryce decided she would get back to later.

Bryce's heart swelled. It had been a long time since she felt so loved. Many things had changed, and just maybe, they were finally for the better.

Lemme know if you would like to be added to a tag list!

Prompts for this fic are OPEN :) DM them or feel free to send them through the ask feature. I love hearing from everybody!

#crescent city #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar #hunt and bryce #fluff #drabble

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