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phantomposting · 1 year

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My mind is jello please excuse spelling errors and grammar mistakes I haven't slept much lately due to issues with insomnia. Either way I hope you guys have been enjoying the silly little writing prompts I make :D I like day dreaming when I can't fall asleep. Sorry in advance this one is a bit long.

Trigger Warning: injury, dissection/vivisection

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This is another Danny and Damian are twins au. In this AU we got the there can only be one heir thing and Damian is the one to come out on top due to how protective Danny is of his sibling. So Danny ends up in Illinois and goes down the path to becoming Phantom.

Eventually Danny's parent's discover he's Phantom and try to study and dissected him and Danny has to go on the run deeply injured physically and emotionally. His running leads to him being homeless and hiding in Gotham. He's super paranoid and trusts nobody trying to keep his distance from people so he hopefully doesn't get caught and dissected molecule by molecule.

One day Alfred is out grocery shopping when he spots the terrified injured teen in an alleyway and it's the weirdest thing. This kid looks almost exactly like Damian except his eyes are an icy blue and the poor kid is skin and bone. He looks to be about the same age as him aswell.

Alfred tries to offer the injured child some help but the kid vanishes. The whole situation is baffling but he was never one to give up that easily and he can absolutely tell the kid is in a dire situation and really needs help. So he decides the best course of action is to take it slow and try to slowly earn the kid's trust.

Every day Alfred goes "shopping" he goes to the grocery store and leaves a meal and supplies for the kid. He can't really tell the others especially Bruce due to how paranoid the bats can be. All signs point to possible league activity but Alfred can tell the kid isn’t dangerous just terrified. If he had to guess he would guess the kid was going to be used in some league plans but managed to escape. He knows Bruce would be far too harsh with the kid and that's the last thing someone so terrified needs right now.

So Alfred's secret meetings with the kid continues slowly gaining the kid's trust more and more until eventually he gets the kid to talk to him. He learns Danny's name and Danny thanks him for the help and kindness. Everyone can see Alfred is acting a little cheerier after that and nobody knows why. They won't really question it though the man is baking cookies more than he used to and well his cookies are worth staying in the dark for.

One day though Danny doesn't show up to their meeting. Alfred begins to worry something feels wrong. He decides to contact Barbra and ask her for help locating the child. He trusts her to not overreact and he knows she's the best person for the task.

Barbra can absolutely see why Alfred kept this a secret once she locates Danny. This kid's resemblance to Damian is scary the only thing that makes her believe this might possibly not be a clone is the ice blue eyes. Locating Danny reveals he's been heavily injured and Alfred rushes out to aid him.

Upon arrival he realizes this is a bit more than he himself can manage especially in some dirty Alleyway and with the possible league ties he knows he can't take the kid to the hospital so he has to give in and tell Bruce about the situation. Of course at first he just starts with a call saying to bring in Dr. Thompkins which makes Bruce anxious as hell.

Danny is brought into the batcave out cold and Bruce of course is his paranoid self. The rest of the family is quite curious about the odd child that Alfred brought in and is hovering around. Damian doesn't understand why the others are so nosy that is until he catches a glimpse of the kid and realizes it's his dead twin brother.

Damian has his guard up majorly after that. The doctor helps Danny and the Y shaped wound from his run in with his parents is discovered and its not doing so great so this kiddo is gonna need a lot of bed rest aside from the odd burns.

Turns out Danny had a run in with the GiW they located him in gotham and he barely escaped. He's out for a hot minute tho so that leaves all the family to speculate. Bruce is being super paranoid and a bit hostile with the kid but Alfred vehemently defends him.

Damian is deeply conflicted he doesn't feel his brother could possibly want to hurt him. He knows how protective Danyal had been. He knows Danyal gave his life to make sure he would live on, but there's no way Danyal can be alive without the League's involvement. Damian refuses to leave Danyal's side until he knows for sure what is going on, of things will be safe, and if Danyal will be alright.

This leads Bruce to question him and thats when everyone discovers Damian and Danyal are in fact twins. Bruce is heartbroken he never even got to know about his 2nd son and this stirs conflict between Damian and Bruce. This also makes Bruce want to believe that Danny is safe and would hopefully join the family, but this also makes him far more anxious about league involvement and makes him raise his guard.

Eventually Danny wakes up and is forced to explain things though he tries to leave the half ghost stuff out and everyone can see he's hiding something making paranoia grow within the batfam members but everyone also tries to give Danny a chance. It could just be processing trauma after all and if he was really after something he would have made a move by now right? The only one fully trusting of Danny is Alfred whom has become rather close with the child. Alfred is happy to have another grandchild to bond with.

Eventually Damian forces the whole truth out of Danny since Danny's ghostly obsession makes him desperate for family and he deeply doesn't want to risk losing Damian again. Damian promises to help keep Danny's secret but tries to reassure him that it's okay to share it with Bruce and that they'll help keep him safe but Danny's fears make it very hard for him to do so.

Eventually the truth forcibly comes out when the GiW comes knocking down the front door for Danny. Danny runs for it absolutely terrified and Alfred threatens them with a gun. We all know Alfred isn't afraid to kill in order to protect his family. Eventually the bats are able to sneak in and knock the agents out but Danny is missing.

The bats bring the Agents to the cave and interrogate them and Damian goes looking for his brother. The Agents tell the bats Danny's secret and demand they hand over the "Ecto Scum" the Bat's are pissed with the agents and now understand why Danny was so secretive.

Damian eventually locates Danny and is able to comfort him and get him to come back to the manor with him. The family doesn't tell him they know his secret. He gets to share it when he feels safe enough to. They do however work hard and get the anti ecto acts repealed.

Eventually Danny gets adopted, the Fenton's go to jail, and Jazz, Tucker, and Sam are reunited with Danny and Danny gets to have a healthy life in Gotham with his new found family. Eventually becoming a Gotham vigilante and getting back on track with things in school. Basically everyone gets a happy ending :D

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batman crossover #dp au #writing prompt #danny and damian are twins #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #i just want to see more AUs with Alfred in them especially where Alfred is being a good grandpa/guardian #sorry im soupy

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cagcd · 5 months

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“ so … how did this happen? ” doctor beckett works the needle and thread through his skin, carefully stitching up the latest in an ongoing series of bizarre injuries — her work is almost too perfect, too practiced. “ and don’t tell me you fell, I didn’t believe it last time and I won’t believe this time either. ”

There is a long pause, a silence that would raise more questions when it's awfully unusual from a man with such a big mouth. He's running low on excuses, movie set accidents were the kind that involved broken bones, a minor cut if it ever went too far, but not something as severe as to show up with a shirt nearly dyed in crimson and a deep cut into the shoulder. The SF swore him into secrecy about their current mission and he had become too weary of hearing another lecture from Raiden if he were to involve an innocent party into their fight with outworld. Maude wouldn't exactly fit into that category if he were to consider it, but she seemed to have enough on her plate with her experiments and the troubles of bkackgate, [ that's another headache he doesn't want want to be bothered with so soon, she seemed to have it under control. ]

Nevertheless, she was, in her own way, someone worthy of trust, someone to turn to in these instances without too many questions asked, but with all that's happening, even she was beginning to wonder, &. rightfully so, the amount of times he came to her with the weirdest cuts were more than he liked to count, all caused by weapons she had never seen before. This time it was kabal and his hook swords, and if those didn't hurt like hell, having them slice through at high velocity was even worse. Come to think of it, Maude would be very interested in studying him, but he wouldn't sell him out like that, corrupted or not. Another tug of the needle causes a wince, though not a reaction so severe as he had grown used to such things. Still, it would be nice to have a normal day without blood loss

❛❛ I don't know what's so hard to believe about it, you never tripped in your life before ? ❜❜ Johnny says casually, sparing a quick look over at his shoulder to see how much stitching was left, damn, that's leaving a mark for sure. ❛❛ well I did, over a kitchen knife, a big one, crazy how sharp these things are, huh ? ❜❜

@fractise // *lying* why would I lie ?

#fractise #☆.⠀⠀⠀here's johnny⠀⠀⠀⎯⎯⎯⠀⠀⠀⠀(⠀answered !⠀)#// alright maybe he's having a kick out of messing with you #// you'll never know HKCHSKDHS

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harrison-abbott · 1 year

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Mr Foster

I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about work. The new boss hated me. She was mean, and I had the feeling she might sack me, soon. I’m sure lots of folks around the globe feel that way. Or have a similar fear.

Anyway, I decided to head out into the streets for a walk. It was strangely warm for November, even in the night air; might’ve passed for midsummer if it hadn’t been for the crackly leaves across the road.

I got to the main road and it was nicely deserted of traffic; only the dreamy neon of the lights. I saw the hill of the park in the distance and aimed for that, and went through the gates and was blanketed by an inky darkness, eyes keenly adjusted to the trail. Climbed the hillside and watched the city’s millipede streets. I was just a man in a mass city; those troubles from earlier didn’t seem so important anymore.

Down the other side of the hill, I kept walking. I reached the other district, and then the housing estate where I grew up. Tinny windows, tiny gardens. There was the primary school which I’d learned to hate as I grew older. Seemed so huge when I was wee and now it was only a sad, cheap building. They’d erected these assault-course type things for the kids to play on which weren’t there in my day.

Then I passed the little church which was even sadder than the school.

And then beyond that was Mr Foster’s house. Wow. I hadn’t thought about him in … well, like fifteen years. Mr Foster. He lived on the last house of this street and we used to tease him relentlessly when we were kids.

You know when you’re a boy/girl and you have a zeal to be a mean little brat. Not that it’s any excuse; just because you’re young. But yeah there was this really odd old man who we only knew the surname of. He never spoke. But he’d turn up in the weirdest places. In the woods – where we played – or on the hill (where I just told you about) in these random spots. He would come in apparitions.

We’d be chatting and playing and suddenly Mr Foster was there. We got the notion that he was spying on us. Creeped us out. When he appeared, like that, we’d run away. And then spy on him in the fodder of the bushes and trees. We’d follow him.

And we knew his house. So we threw stuff at his windows. One time I stole a plant pot from his garden, for no other reason than for the pleasure of robbing something.

The other children talked about him too. He had a limp. Somebody said it was from an old injury, when he used to be in the army. Another girl said he was an ex convict. What was he in jail for? we asked. She said that he did something crazy in the war, and was in a ‘war prison’. Was court martialled. Somebody else said “it was a tax thing and the government caught him doing it”.

It was all silly lies. But kids like believing lies, don’t they. I did as well.

I was one of those little shitty children who picked on this old man; enjoyed bullying him just as the others did.

That plant pot. I ran away with it gleefully, whilst all the others laughed, and I threw it off the bridge above the river and we watched it smash on the rocks below, hahahahahaha. At the age of seven or eight it was the best thing.

I’ll never know who exactly Mr Foster was.

One day he just vanished. There was a TO LET sign in his garden, and the lights in his windows never came on again.

For several years – because the wood of that TO LET sign got all dilapidated with the weather and the lettering peeled off. Then I moved away from this neighbourhood with my mother. So I never knew. And I never asked her about Mr Foster since I didn’t want her to know how much we’d picked on him.

He was probably never in jail. And it was possible he could have served in the military. The violence and the tax evasion may have been bullshit.

Children are often worse than adults. I certainly consider myself a good human – nowadays, as a man. But I certainly wasn’t as a child.

Anyway.

Here was me, standing outside of a house, at three in the morning. Somebody else lived there now. And the building looked far different.

Mr Foster’s ghost was only within me.

#prose #short story #fiction #creative writing #stories

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jeysbvck · 2 years

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Regret - Adrian Chase x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I had so much fun writing this so I hope you have fun reading it! Please let me know what you think! Requests are open!

Request: "you're all i could think about" & "i shouldn't have left."

Warnings: none really, just a wholesome angsty ficlet, spoilers for ep 8.

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @myguiltypleasures21

Your call has been forwarded to the voicemail of-

You groaned as you slammed your phone into the couch. Ignored, again. This wasn't like Adrian at all, but then again, everything had changed in just two months, so maybe this was Adrian now.

Adrian Chase was your adorably awkward boyfriend, who worked a normal job at Fennel Fields; who played Dungeons and Dragons (and made up voices for every character), who had the weirdest takes on the ending of movies and who whined like a toddler when you stopped playing with his hair, or stopped tracing circles on his back. But Adrian Chase was also Evergreens very own Vigilante, who was out most nights cleaning up the streets...by murdering the bad guys.

Sure, you thought you were losing it, when you first started to connect the dots; how could Adrian be Vigilante? but the pattern and timing of certain things was just too damn suspicious. Like how Adrian would have bruises- or an injury- with really weak excuses, the day after Vigilante made the news. The way any time Vigilante came up in any conversation, Adrian would take a little bit more of an interest in what was being said, or more notably, defend Vigilante.

"Actually, Vigilante uses knives AND swords...so I've heard."

"It isn't a costume. It's a uniform. And it's teal and black, not blue and black."

"Vigilante only kills bad people! Sure, maybe he's killed a few innocent ones too, but I'm sure he spends a little time feeling really guilty about it before moving on!"

Then you found his mask, completely by accident. Adrian, running late for his shift, had forgotten his phone and had called you from work to ask that you swing by and pick it up before you met him for lunch. It was peeking out from under the bed, the teal and black fabric with the red visor catching your eye. Your blood ran cold as you picked it up, the confirmation that you weren't losing your mind. Adrian is Vigilante. You quickly dropped it, as if the mask had caught on fire, and you kicked it further under the bed, before you grabbed Adrian's phone off the cabinet and ran.

You didn't tell Adrian you knew, you just couldn't find the words. Instead, you played the role of the unknowing girlfriend and, when he went off to secretly fight crime, you'd leave the news playing on the television, waiting for Vigilante to be mentioned. On the nights he stayed with you, you held onto him a little tighter, stared at him a little longer, seering every part of him onto your brain, just in case.

Two months passed, two long months of pretending you didn't know where his injuries were coming from, silently worrying every time he was away from you. You knew why he was keeping it a secret, it's what superheroes did right? Nobody knew who Batman was, or Superman, because they had to keep their loved ones safe. They were just vigilantes too, right? The only difference was, Adrian didn't throw them in prison, he killed them.

But then, Adrian turned up at your door with a black eye, a few cuts on his face and a split lip. He flashed you a lopsided grin as he stumbled into your apartment.

"Wrong place, wrong time." He muttered. You grabbed the first aid box from the bathroom and silently cleaned him up as he made his excuses.

"Are you okay?" You asked when he sucked air through his teeth, the antibacterial wipe stinging the cut on his forehead. He gazed up lovingly at you and nodded.

"You should see the other guy."

You let out a feeble chuckle, but you knew he was being serious. Once you patched him up, you started to clear up and in doing so, you knocked his bag off the coffee table with your hip. His bag fell off the table and out spilled the Vigilante mask.

You both stared at the mask on the floor, before staring at each other. Neither of you knew what to say, Adrian looked like a deer in headlights.

"Adri-"

"Y/N, that's not what you think. It's not min-well it is, but it's for a...fancy dress...Halloween thing..." He trailed off, before he started up again. "Are you freaking out? Is that why you're so quiet? God, Peacemaker says that it's scarier when a woman is quiet than when she's shouting...but when Harcourt shouts, that's pretty scary."

"Adrian, the only person freaking out here is you." You replied, and his eyes widened before they narrowed.

"Wait, why aren't you freaking out? You should be freaking out!"

"Um-" You avoid his eyes as you tried to come up with something-anything to say.

"How long have you known?" Adrian asked, quietly.

"Uh-" You clear your throat. "-I found it when you asked me to bring your phone to work."

"You've known for two months? And you didn't say anything?!"

"You're mad at me?!" You scoffed. "You've been lying to me for six months!"

"I-" Adrian was cut off as Barbie Girl began to ring out from Adrian's bag. You rolled your eyes, making no attempt to mask the small smile that formed on your lips. Adrian mumbled on the phone for a few minutes before he grabbed his bag.

"I gotta go." He said. As he walked past you and opened the front door, you grabbed his hand. He froze, only for a second, before he pulled away. Instead, he gave you a small kiss on your cheek before he ran down the hall, leaving you with tears in your eyes.

That had been two weeks ago and now all your calls and texts were going unanswered. You had even gone to Fennel Fields, just to be told he had taken vacation time. He was off the grid. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat, you couldn't focus at work. You just stayed glued in front of the TV or your phone, waiting for anything to pop up about Vigilante.

Two weeks and three days later, you were lying on the couch, eyes closed, listening to the news, your new normal. You hadn't been paying attention really, just bits and pieces here and there, until...

Both Peacemaker and the costumed crime fighter Vigilante were working in a deep-cover operation for the U.S government called 'Project Butterfly' -

You were sat up now, elbows on your knees, eyes bulging out of your head. Adrian, working for the government? Deep cover operation? You were pretty sure your head and your heart were going to explode, it was just a matter of which one gave out first. Then, four knocks rapped against your front door. Four very familiar knocks that made you absolutely certain your heart was going to explode first.

You flung the door open, coming face to face with Adrian, who was wearing a blue hospital gown and a bashful smile. Your heart aches; all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him, but you step aside, an invitation Adrian is all too happy to accept.

"Are you okay?" You asked. He tilted his head, looking confused and you sigh. "Really? You're barefoot and wearing a hospital gown and you're confused? I saw the news." You point to the TV, where the press conference was being replayed.

"Oh! Leota!" Adrian said. "She betrayed Peacemaker, but then-"

"Adrian! Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, it's gonna take more than a knife in my back to-" He saw your face and he shook his head. "Oh no, no! I was literally stabbed in the back!" He turned and pointed to the base of his back, but there was no wound. "I was also in an explosion, so I guess it's gonna take more than being blown up too!"

"I'm sorry, you were WHAT?!" You yelled.

"I threw a grenade at Peacemakers racist dad! It was pretty cool." He replied. "Hey, Y/N, look I'm fine!"

He was right, he was fine. Not a scratch on him. that made you speechless. It also made you cry, which made Adrian rush towards you.

"I was really worried about you." You told him, as his large hands engulfed yours. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I knew. I just didn't want to lose you. I don't want to lose you.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left." Adrian said, quietly. "Not like that."

"It's okay. You're safe and you're alive. That's all that matters." You replied.

"Does that mean you forgive me?" He asked, his face resembling that of a puppy who just wanted attention.

"Of course."

"And what about me being Vigilante?"

You pulled your hands from his and cupped his face, while his laced around your waist. You locked eyes with him and he grinned adoringly at you. "I don't care that you're Vigilante."

"You don't?"

You shook your head. "I mean, I worry about you, all the time, especially these past two weeks, but you were just...blown up?-" Adrian nodded excitedly, "-and look at you, not even a bruise. I think you can handle yourself."

Adrian pulled you closer to him and gently grazed your lips with his. Your hands snaked around the back of his head and you deepened the kiss almost instantly. You had missed him, missed this, and how dare he leave for two weeks and only give you a peck on the cheek! His finger tips dug into your hips and you had to stifle a moan, which made you pull away, breathless. You removed your hands from his head and placed them on his chest, his perfectly toned chest.

"For two weeks, you're all I could think about." Adrian told you. "I mean, don't tell the others, because if Peacemaker found out then he'd think I was distracted, but I wasn't, I still-"

You kissed him again and he didn't mind the interruption. You could interrupt him forever if it meant you did it like that.

"I love you, Adrian." You mumbled into his lips.

"I know." He replied, earning a playful slap on the chest. "I love you too, Y/N."

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #angst prompt #adrian chase fic #vigilante fic #angst #fic #peacemaker #my creations*

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wheres-everyone-going-bingo · 3 years

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Dating Them Headcannons

(Lee Eun-Hyuk, Jung Jae-Heon, Pyeon Sang-Wook, Yoon Ji-Su)

Warnings: none, gender neutral reader

Lee Eun-Hyuk

-Despite how he seems as the “leader” of the survivors, he’s very chill

-Like he only seems so cold because of the amount of stress and responsibilities that have been put on his shoulders

-When he’s stressed about exams he’ll walk up to you and just place his head in your lap

-Would write little sticky note’s with stuff like “love you :)” or “have a good day”

-You always steal his glasses off his face and wear them, he can’t see for shit but knows you look adorable

-Would be the type to put his chin on your head

-Puts your safety above all else

-Fusses over little injuries you have, despite knowing it’s nothing

Jung Jae-Heon

-Would read to you every night in bed, with your head on his chest

-This guy’s a pretty good cook and will cook you your favourite meal on a hard day

-Hugs from behind anyone?

-Teaches you how to use a sword if you ask (secretly an excuse to be close to you)

-Would write you little poems sometimes

-Mans is constantly in protecc mode, will have you by his side 24/7

-Before going out on supply runs he’d kiss you on your head and promise to come back safe

-You trust him not to drink too much, but whenever he’s sitting with the soju, you’d be next to him just in case

-Would always be reassuring you that you’re both going to make it

-Mans is a little awkward but he’s trying

-Makes bad puns sometimes, like a teacher that’s trying to be cool for his students

Pyeon Sang-Wook

-Despite being a broody little loser, he enjoys subtle pda

-Likes to sit in “his” apartment with his arm around your shoulders

-Baby gets insecure sometimes, thinks you deserve to be with someone better

-After all he’s just a monstrous gangster who hurts people for a living right?

-Just hold him, stroke his hair and tell him how much you love him

-If you place small kisses on his scars he’d melt

-Mans eats nothing but instant noodles, please cook him a proper meal

-He has really low self esteem, but with you he feels like maybe he can be a good person after all

-Doesn’t like public affection but if your having a hard day then he can spare a hug or two

-Loves having baths together, not anything sexual, just the intimacy of you behind him washing his hair, he loves it

-If anyone is mean to you, expect them to avoid you like the plague after Sang-Wook “deals” with them

Yoon Ji-Su

-Oooh babey she’s going to write you SO many songs

-When you’re stressed she sings little silly songs to you

-Please help this girl clean her apartment, she just forgets to clean up

-Loves to hold your hand in public, beaming at anyone who looks at you two

-Expect playful banter, she loves your witty combacks

-Would blast rock music and dance around her apartment with you

-Whenever she plays at a venue, you’re in the crowd cheering her on louder than everyone else, ready to shower her in kisses when she’s done

-Y’all do the weirdest shit together, ESPECIALLY at some early hour of the morning

-Who has the best velociraptor impression contest, anyone?

-Would beat anyone’s ass who’s mean to you, like she’s ready to throw hands

-When she’s stressed, just hold her, tell her everything will be okay and run your fingers through her hair

#lee eun hyuk #jung jae heon #pyeon sang wook #yoon ji su #sweet home #kdrama #x reader #x gender neutral reader

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rayofsunas · 3 years

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otherworldly! s/o

A/n: happy monday! I woke up at 7am and since then I've been grinding out assignments/classes and now this, so I actually feel productive even though I've been staring at my computer for a while. but thank you for requesting anon! I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! <33 also to understand this more, I'd like to point out that this connects to the speculation Genshin and Honkai are alternate universes of one another. so for example, Scaramouche is a harbinger from his time, but he may have been a warlord in a different, with a completely different name (keeping his appearance ofc) hope that makes sense. so if you've paid attention to what I've been saying about Scara and his mini-series, etc. you'll understand what I mean in Scara's lol. his reader insert is fem for the same reason as above btw!

Summary: otherworldly! s/o who arrived as a fallen meteor, that can bring back plants to life/heal deep wounds/scars and resurrect people.

Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, fluff, alternate realities/time traveler au! (reader is not the traveler), death/resurrection

Word count: 1.7k

Albedo

you don't have a vision like some people in Teyvat, because you're not from there; you're from a whole different world itself. instead, you have healing abilities that allow you to any energy you absorb in the form of food/sunlight, and you can use that energy to heal others. though, the healing can only go as far as healing minor injuries such as shallow cuts, scratches, or smoothing out scars. the same can work if you were to heal yourself.

Albedo is so intrigued when he finds you passed out in the pit of a meteor, half of your body hanging out while the other is awkwardly still in it

one, because who is this stranger in a meteor for crying out loud

and two, he notices your wounds on your arms are healing by themselves, slowly though

as someone who studies alchemy, life forms, and such, he's very intrigued that you're able to heal yourself without medicine, and he wonders if you can do the same to others

so he takes you to his lab, and runs a few tests

yes, you're still passed out when this happens, but he's just so curious and couldn't hold back

don't worry though, he's just drawing some blood and testing to see what you can do, because who knows, you may not even speak his language and won't be able to communicate with him (doesn't make a difference Albedo, you need COnSENT-)

so, just for science, he cuts the palm of his hand a little and decides to see if you can heal him

it doesn't take him long to notice the way the tips of your fingers are glowing a light greenish-yellow, so he immediately assumes that's the source of your powers and places a finger on his palm

it takes a second before anything happens, but eventually his cut starts to slowly close

once again he's even more shocked and intrigued

you have the natural ability and he's never come across someone with so much raw strength being able to do that

so you're right up his alley

when you wake up you're confused as hell (obviously) but thankfully, you can speak his language and are able to share your story

Albedo decides to make a deal with you

he'll help you get home if you can educate him more about your ability and your homeland. you agree

it works out perfectly, because you both have something the other needs/can do for the other (you have your power that he's interested in, and he's found a way for you to return home)

it's also easy to work together because of those same common interests, and it helps that he studies alchemy cause he's way more knowledgeable about you and the process can go a tiny bit quicker for you if you wish to return home sooner

at first you're merely friends, co-workers if you wish

but then he starts falling for you and vice versa

you both genuinely enjoy each others company, so you decide to stay in Teyvat a little while longer, even after he finds a way for you to go home

I wouldn't put it past Albedo to want to return to your world if you allow it

he'd be interested in this new or not so new world ;)

Xiao

you're like the traveler in a sense, where as soon as you climbed out of the meteor, you felt this connection to Teyvat and your vision randomly appeared. you have a dendro vision, something you learned was a rarity within liyue and mondstadt. along with that vision, you had the previous ability to grow/heal plants. you can bring back dead plants, though if they've been dead for a very long time, that's beyond your ability. they also can't be brought back if they've been badly burned.

Xiao may not be interested at first about what vision you have or even where you came from + why the hell you climbed out of a meteor

he's more interested in getting you home so you can stop asking questions about his own abilities/vision and odd, unfamiliar, but beautiful world

but boy when he catches you bringing back a wilted Glaze Lily?!? shook

he secretly thinks you're so cool and it piques his interest

he's never seen anyone do this before, and though his eyes were deceiving him when he first saw the lily spring to life again

but then when he catches you healing more plants, on your way to Liyue to hopefully find Zhongli for answers, he's so interested

he doesn't ask a crapload of questions, BUT he's going to ask at least one or two

"how're you doing that?"

"what are you?

the questions are kind of vague and require more in-depth explanations than he'd originally hoped, but he's surprisingly willing to listen to your story on the way to the harbor

after he learns your story and calls for Zhongli, he'll immediately leave and claim he has no further interests in you

but he's obviously lying

he finds as he's sitting on top of one the smaller mountains one night, looking down at the glowing Liyue town, he has more questions

way more questions

surprising Zhongli, Xiao shows appears when he's showing you around and getting you accustomed to the people/culture

he finds himself hoving behind you, shyly almost, never asking questions (at least not in Zhongli's presence

his reason for standing behind you is to protect you from any harm, so that way, when he decides to ask you more questions, you'll be there for him to do so and not dead or lost

when you tell Zhongli you'd wish to stay in Teyvat, specifically Liyue, Xiao is happy ngl

he can ask you questions and now that you're somewhat used to Liyue, having been here for four months already and planning to stay forever, he can catch you alone and ask questions without Zhongli hovering or acting as your tour guide lol

slowly, and I mean sluggishly slow, he's going to ask you more questions and he may, emphasis on may, tell you his own story

Scaramouche

you're from an alternate reality of Teyvat, a former doctor in your world. basically, Teyvat hundreds of years in the future. you've studied the human body to become a doctor obviously and you used to be able to bring back the dead using your bare hands. it didn't matter how far back ago they've died, as long as their full-body was still intact (full skeleton needed). though, the further back they died, the more energy you'd use, and if you run out of energy too soon, you couldn't bring them back. but now in this strange land, you can't. in exchange for your powers being lost, you're given an electro vision.

Scaramouche is tasked with finding out more about these odd meteors that keep appearing in various corners of Teyvat

and one very large one

he doesn't care who you are, what you are, what your excuse for being in Teyvat is, but he's been ordered to explore the fallen meteor and since you happened to be passed out inside it upon further exploration, you're part of the mystery he's been told to check out

and, it doesn't further help your situation that you landed in Snezhnaya, in the weirdest, not-so-warm clothing AND he finds you attractive (yes, you heard it here folks), plus you're going to catch hypothermia out here dressed like that

it would suck for a pretty girl such as yourself to be frozen to death

so Scaramouche decides to take you to the Tsaritsa, who leaves you in Scaramouche's care since he found you

she says he can do whatever he wants you, dispose of you, etc.

when you finally come too in an odd room on a couch in front of a fireplace, you're confused, cold as hell despite the flames, and when you see his face, you're immediately angered, which he finds odd

it's almost as if you recognize him... but he doesn't recognize you so he's confused as well

"what're you doing here?"

bold of you, he thinks. to question him with that tone as if you have authority here, over him

"watch yourself. I was going to ask you the same."

you don't seem too pleased with him though

"we agreed to never speak again, or so I thought..."

"are you stupid or are you just playing the stupid card to be released?" he'd say

though as soon as you burst and yell at him about a situation he's not familiar with, he's starting to understand a bit more

you're not from here, not anywhere in Teyvat at least, and by the way you're talking to him as if you know him, he assumed correctly that you're from an alternate reality, where he's also present

though despite his correct assumption, he demands answers and you cannot be allowed any kind of freedom until he gets them

you tell him your story and how in your world, a version of himself exists and that you were briefly married, though split because he was too much of a control/power freak for you and your daughter

he disagrees with the last part about him being a control/power freak ofc but

he decides he'll keep you around, against your wishes

one, because you can become useful if your resurrection abilities are awoken; you'd be able to save many fallen Fatui soldiers, with more training so you don't run out of energy ofc

and two, he doesn't think his other self would miss you very much if you're both on bad terms, he sure would miss such a pretty face if you were to leave though, that's for sure...

so, he's going to keep you around, so he can help train/get used to your electro vision. it works best that way since he has the same vision and can train you more efficiently (I think Scara has electro powers, just an assumption!)

he will also hopefully be able to awaken your resurrection abilities and if you can't, well then sorry you're disposable

overtime, all the Harbingers tease him about his little crush and he either denies it or strongly provokes it cause his ego is through his fucking hat

exhibit a. literally doesn't care that he's caught by childe staring at you train and will say something like, "and? you're just jealous she's not interested in you like she is me."

exhibit b. will throw a fit if someone accuses him and says he has, "no room for crushes or love." even if he was somewhat capable of it in your world...

3.22.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

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xsamsharons · 3 years

Text

come here often? - n. lantsov

pairing: nikolai lantsov x healer!reader.

genre/warning: fluff. mentions of injuries.

words: 1.6k

summary: in which nikolai and you aren't really close, until he falls on his face and you fall in love.

It was a rather slow night considering you were working as the main healer aboard a ship that had the prince of Ravka as its captain and also counted the three leaders of the grisha triumvirate as part of the crew. Night after night, people would come in though the makeshift hospital David had built into your room for you, injured by the weirdest things you would ever imagine, and go back out to no doubt keep endangering their lives on behalf of their country. Now, you were not saying that fighting for your country was an dishonorable thing to do, the opposite actually, but for the life of you, you just couldn’t seem to understand how someone could possibly willingly jump off a ship and into an ocean filled with monsters and mythical creatures, and not expect any injuries.

Speaking of, as of right now you found yourself attending the injuries of none other but the captain himself, he looked like he hadn’t slept in ages, and reeked of sea water and sweat. The first time you had met him you had been extremely nervous about actually using your powers on him, after all, you didn’t wanna be known as the healer who had permanently injured the future king. That day you had learned that Nikolai became pretty delirious every time he was suffering from physical pain given as he had had a broken nose and damaged rib, but he had claimed that ‘the other guy had it worse’. This would’ve be a normal enough to say, except in this case, the ‘other guy’ was an ancient mythical being that has been believed to only exist in Ravkan’s passed down stories. Ever since then, he has been ending up in your room almost every night, and with your unfortunate luck, he always seemed to arrive right in your shifts.

His face was framed by messy strands that had fallen from his red tailored hair, and on his chest were displayed a couple of gold necklaces that matched the buttons of his red coat. He had been talking to you and distracting you from your work ever since he arrived, and to make matters worse, he had to rest on one of the beds in your room all night just in case the fall he had taken on his face somehow caused more damage than you had originally thought.

“So, you come here often?” he asked with a crooked smirk and wandering eyes.

“You mean my room? Where I work?” you answered, rolling your eyes when he nodded his head and raised his eyebrows, implying it was a totally logical question. “Yes, I come here often. Not as often as you it would seem. Quite prone to hurting yourself, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I just like to visit my favorite healer.”

Ah yes, the flirting. It seemed it wasn’t enough for him to already bother you with his presence, but he also made it his mission to flirt with you as much as possible during his stay.

“Firstly, I’m the only specialized healer you know, so that line isn’t as smooth as you think it is.” you started, continuing to work on his nose. “Secondly, I would appreciate it if you could keep your advances to the minimum. We don’t want you to damage your brain trying to come up with more pick up lines, seeing as it requires a lot of effort for you to even get coherent sentences out.” you said sarcastically and watched his smirk grow.

“What is it going to take for you to finally admit you actually really like me?” he asked, and for the life of you, you could not understand how he’d come to that conclusion when all you’ve ever done is turn him down. Nonetheless, you figured you’d follow his game. If you were going to spend your whole night by his side, you could use some fun.

“Well, for one, I have never seen you not beaten up, or showered for that matter, so that would be a great start.” you said, tailoring his nose to look like Sturmhond’s crooked one after you finished tending to it.

“It’s not my fault I always end up here in the nights when we get ambushed.” he said in a voice that could almost be considered as a whine, and you found yourself smiling at how cute he sounded when he wasn’t being an asshole. Still, you furrowed your brows in response to something he’d hinted at.

“Ambushed? What, like by other crews?” you asked and he nodded. “So, you tailor yourself to not get ambushed for being a royal, but we still are ambushed even when you look like Sturmhond? What’s the point then?”

“It may be kind of useless now that everyone in Ravka knows us, but I like pretending to be someone else sometimes.” he shrugged, a look that you’d never seen on his face appearing. “It’s stupid, i know” he snorted, trying to shake off the weight of his sentence after you remained quiet for a few seconds.

“It’s not stupid.” you were quick to deny. “I get it, believe me. Growing up as a grisha in Fjerda, I wished every night before bed to have the ability to simply be reborn as someone else.” you admitted, missing the shocked look on his face.

“You are Fjerdan?” he asked.

“What? That’s not in my file?” you answered with a question of your own and he rolled his green eyes.

After you accused him of violating your privacy for reading your file and he defensively said that it was his job to know his crew, you spent a few minutes teaching him Fjerdan words and took advantage of the little knowledge he had about your native language by making fun of his tailored face, knowing he couldn’t understand what you were saying.

“So, how come you praise yourself so much about your aim but seem to get beaten up every night?” you asked.

“Hey! I am actually an incredible shot, thank you very much.” he replied, offense clear on his voice, making you snort.

“Can’t be any good if the only times I ever see you is when you are injured.” you said sarcastically, and he made a face that seemed a bit dramatic in your opinion.

“Not my fault you are trapped between these four walls every night.” he replied, and now it was your turn to act defensively.

“Excuse you! I have a life outside of the hospital.” you said in a light tone, to let him know you weren’t truly offended.

“People who have lives don’t need to remind other people that they do.”

“People who are great in battle don’t need to remind other people that they are.”

“Touché.” he said with a smirk.

You spent the next couple of hours talking to Nikolai about random topics, him not failing to deliver a pick up line from time to time, and the night was slowly but surely starting to slip out of your hands. Right now, you were back to him being the topic of conversation after you had ranted for a couple of minutes about how hard it was to have to grow up in Fjerda hiding who you were. As you teased him telling him he had to settle for captain of a ship because he wasn’t a good enough royal (a claim he denied thoroughly), he looked like he wanted to say something else, before Genya entered the room with a smirk on her face.

“If you two lovebirds are done flirting, you are needed up on the main deck. Sparring session gone wrong - again.” she informed you, rolling her eyes at the usual recklessness of the crew.

“Yes, ma’am.” you saluted sarcastically, before turning back around to face Nikolai again and check his injuries one more time.

“You should actually stay upstairs with us sometime, that way I can prove to you that I'm actually good.” he suggested once Genya was out of the room again. “Plus, the day should be sunny today so we’ll probably spar a lot.”

“You’ve flirted with me every night you’ve been here and the answer’s always been the same, what makes you think tonight is going to be different?”

“Oh, come on. I promise I'll shower and I will try to not get punched in the face. That way you get to see me showered and not injured, it’s a package deal you can’t just ignore.” he pleaded, in reference to your words from earlier.

“All right, maybe I'll stay upstairs after I finish fixing the crew up, and if I catch sight of a certain arrogant royal I know, I might stick around to watch a sparring session or two.” you gave in with a smirk, leading him to the door so he could leave you alone to fix your room up a bit before you went upstairs.

“I’ll see you when I see you then.” he said while bowing his invisible pirate hat, and walked away with a wink.

He left you standing at your desk watching as, just like every other night, he slipped past your door and out onto the main deck again. You watched as he caught up with Genya and said something to her with a smirk, though you couldn’t quite catch the words the spoke, and turned back around to tidy up your room with a stupid smile on your face.

bonus:

“Did it work?” Genya asked him with raised eyebrows and a smile, her question in reference to the plan they had come up with to get Nikolai to spend more time with you. It consisted of Genya tailoring his face to look like he had fallen on his face and busted his nose open.

“Like a charm.” Nikolai nodded, a smile similar to the one you were wearing back in your room appearing on his face.

a/n: making fun of sturmhond's nose is a personality trait and it's mine (and alina's)

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fanfic #sturmhond #nikolai #x reader #imagine #fic #fanfic #shadow and bone #grishaverse #the grisha trilogy #nikolai duology #rule of wolves #king of scars #siege and storm #ruin and rising

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lafourmii20 · 3 years

Note

My favorite pairing is probably DrPepperony if I had to choose one, and I'm a sucker for 30 (the protective one). While I tend to swerve to "people protecting Stephen", please write it however you'd like - if you're interested in this combination. :)

Thank you for the ask, @aelaer 💕

I love drpepperony and I was very happy to write this OT3 with this prompt. It's a bit longer than I thought, and maybe not exactly what you imagined. I hope you like it!

~~~

drpepperony, pre-relationship (could almost be read as gen), hurt stephen, with a bit of blood, protective pepper, protective tony, not clint friendly (sorry i had to find sort of a bad guy), post Endgame but Tony lives and Steve died

~~~

“If you’re so powerful, why couldn’t you save her?!”

Clint’s shout echoed on the lawn, all the way to the cabin. Tony instantly got to his feet.

“Stay with uncle Happy, Maguna.”

He left his drink on a table, and his daughter under Happy’s careful watch, and hurried outside. When he pushed the front door, he frowned, deeply unhappy with the scene.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered in such a thin voice Tony wasn’t sure anyone heard him –not sure the guy even wanted to be heard.

“You’re sorry? Is that what you just mumbled?” Clint answered, his tone getting angrier and angrier with each word.

“I am truly deeply sorry,” Stephen articulated more clearly this time.

It did not seem to appease Clint. At all.

“Well, great! You’re sorry. But Nat is dead because of you. And your sorry ass apologies won’t do shit to bring her back!”

Clint was furious. He was grieving. But he was taking it out on the wrong guy.

“It’s all your fault!”

Stephen didn’t move, didn’t even blink when Clint lurched forward and punched him square in the face. He fell backwards and blood splattered on the ground.

“It’s all your fucking fault!” Clint bellowed as Sam and Bucky restrained him, tried to stop him from attacking again.

He almost tore free, and Tony took a step forward. He was all for letting his fellow Avengers sort things out between themselves the way they wanted to –and if they had to punch some sense into each other from time to time, well it was their business. But no one was getting beaten up, without even trying to resist, on his lawn.

But before Tony could say anything, Pepper stepped into the scene.

“What is going on here?” she asked in her no-nonsense voice. Se didn’t wait for someone to answer –as if there even was a correct way to answer when she used that voice. “No one is fighting in my home! Today, we celebrate those we brought back, and we grieve those we lost. This is not a time for fighting and I will not tolerate it. Is that clear?”

Clint might try to protest, there was no way he would sway Pepper. He was an Avenger. She was even more dangerous, Tony thought with pride. Looked like he could let his wife handle the dirty business.

He crossed the lawn, got to the poor wizard still slumped on the ground, haggard and defeated. His nose was bleeding profusely, and the corner of his eye was starting to turn purple. Tony grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Come on. Let me take care of you.”

Stephen looked up at him. There was a deep sadness, a resigned look in his eyes that broke Tony’s heart. Then Stephen got up and it was gone. They walked silently through the crowd, crossed the lawn and reached the house. Tony pushed him as carefully as he could in a bathroom.

“Here we go,” he said softly, helping Stephen sit on the edge of the tub. “Fri, where’s the first aid kit?”

“Under the sink, boss,” the AI answered immediately and Tony dived under the sink to retrieve the little box, opening it to get some cotton balls and antiseptic, though he wasn’t sure what to do with those. “May I suggest the ice pack, boss?”

“You’re the best, baby girl.”

“Of course,” she answered, and Tony chuckled.

He went back to Stephen with a slightly wet towel to wipe off the blood while he handed him the cold pack. Stephen’s fingers shook wildly when he took it and pressed it on the side of his head, with a painful wince.

“You don’t have to do all this,” the Wizard of Oz finally said. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, look in the mirror, doc, and tell that to your face,” Tony scoffed.

He got a brief glimpse of a smile before he moved the towel over nose, lips, chin, and all the mess of blood that covered Stephen’s face.

“Why didn’t you send Clint to the Sinister Dimension or whatever the name of that hellish world is?” Tony asked, trying not to wince with Stephen every time the towel stroked over a sensitive area.

“Dark Dimension,” Stephen corrected.

“Sure.”

A moment of silence passed. Tony took the time to rinse the blood out of the towel before applying it again. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped. That only left the big ugly contusion at the corner of Stephen’s eye. Ouch, that looked painful.

“Fri, can you scan our good doctor? Make sure there are no deeper wounds?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen protested with another wince that said otherwise.

“Fri?”

“The good doctor is right, boss. No deeper injury.”

“Great.”

As Tony looked at the slumped and beaten up form in front of him, it seemed that nothing was great. If there were no physical wounds, it seemed that there was a more profound, more painful, psychological one. That man was wounded, burned out, and morally exhausted. And Tony was suddenly filled with the impulse to help him, to fix this, whatever this was.

He wanted to see the powerful and cocky sorcerer he clashed with, when they first met.

He wanted the weirdly flirty wink after great prowess of magic, and butting heads with someone that didn’t take his nonsense but actually listened to him, and compromised.

“So, why didn’t you stop him?” he asked again after a minute of almost comfortable silence.

He threw the bloody towel in the laundry basket and leaned against the sink, watching Stephen intently.

“Because he’s grieving. And he’s right,” Stephen answered in a too small voice.

Defeated.

Tony was not taking any of it. If Pepper had to protect Stephen from Clint, Tony would have to protect Stephen from himself, apparently. It was far from the weirdest thing he had ever done.

“Bullshit. It’s not your fault.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow behind the cold pack, before he winced and dropped it. Tony picked it up for him and, instead of giving it back to the wizard, he brought it up to Stephen’s face and gently hold it up against his temple. Stephen just sighed, closed his eyes for a second, letting Tony take care of him. The situation was slightly more intimate than Tony anticipated but it warmed his heart to see Stephen accept his help. And yeah, he could see himself get closer to the wizard in the near future.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

“It kinda is. I chose this path, the one where Natasha and Steve had to die. Their deaths are on my hands.”

“That’s just pure bullshit! You didn’t push Nat on Vormir, she jumped. You didn’t put the gauntlet on Steve’s hand, he took it and snapped his own fingers knowing he would not survive it. You did not murder them. They chose to sacrifice themselves to save us all, and believe me, I would have done the same thing, without blaming you. You know what you did?”

“Wallow in self-pity, dishonoring their great sacrifice?” he whispered defeated and seemingly disgusted with himself.

“No.” Damn, that man really needed to be protected from himself. Tony knew a thing or two about blaming himself for everything, but Strange was on another level completely. “You put us on the right path, you risked your sanity to view all those possible futures and other timeline. You are a hero.”

That seemed to finally shut Stephen up. He blinked, looked up at Tony, but this time, there was something different in his eyes. A deep emotion Tony couldn’t really name. It made his heart race.

Stephen’s hand rose, lightly touched Tony’s at the side of his head. It was delicate and far more intimate than he expected. But before Tony could say anything else, the bathroom’s door opened, and Pepper stepped in.

Stephen quickly took his hand away, but Tony kept his position. There was nothing he wanted to hide from his wife. Besides, if something ever happened with the wizard, he was pretty sure Pepper would want to be included. Yep, that would be very nice actually, the three of them in the cabin. Tony could almost picture it.

Wait, he was thinking a bit ahead of himself, wasn’t he? Well, who could blame him, he was a futurist, after all.

“Are you okay, Dr. Strange?” Pepper asked.

“You can call me Stephen. And yes, I’m okay. Tony took care of me.”

Pepper looked at her husband. Tony winked, she smirked in return. His hand was still pressed against Stephen’s head –there was a cold pack between them, but did that really matter?

Pepper went to Stephen’s other side, carefully took his chin in her hand to examine him –and there was no cold pack or any medical supply to excuse the proximity. Stephen tensed for a second, then he relaxed in her grip.

“You did well,” Pepper finally concluded, with a small stroke on Stephen’s cheek. The wizard shuddered. Then she stepped back and the fluttering moment was over. “Tony, you stay with him, I’m gonna send everyone home,” she ordered more than asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tony answered immediately.

“And Stephen?”

“Yes?”

“Stay for dinner with us tonight. Please?”

A moment of hesitation, blue-green eyes jumping from Tony to Pepper, a gulp and finally.

“I will.”

Well, well, well, Tony thought. That was a very interesting turn of events. He couldn’t wait to see where all of this would lead them.

~~~

Inspired by this intimacy prompt list

Prompts filled: 3. touching foreheads (ironstrangefrost) 23. wearing someone’s clothing (ironstrange) 29. kissing while mad (ironstrange) 59. height difference (ironstrange)

#drpepperony #fic #hurt stephen strange #protective tony stark #protective pepper potts #bad clint barton #tw blood #pre relationship #hurt comfort #ask answered #lafourmii writes

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buffintruder · 4 years

Text

can you imagine what the untamed would have been like from Lan Sizhui’s pov because that would have been so funny

like first of all, you’re just going about your regular business, hunting evil spirits with your squad, and you meet this guy who used to be part of the Jin sect but got kicked out and apparently is crazy and always wears a mask? but he’s also clearly being mistreated by his family, and you know that whatever got him kicked out, he does not deserve this humiliation and abuse

you feel sorry for him, even when he stomps a spirit-summoning flag into the ground and runs unprotected into the middle of a fight and generally causes mild distress and irritation to your fellow juniors.

except then it turns out he actually seems quite competent and he even figures out a lot of what’s going on with the goddess statue, and sure he has weird habits, but he is nothing like how Jin Ling describes his bastard uncle. also maybe he summoned and sent away the Ghost General with his flute? but that’s impossible because the Ghost General should be ash, and anyway, the only one who could control the Ghost General was—

And that’s not even the weirdest part, because then Hanguang Jun arrives. You are certain the two of them have not been close in the past, because surely he would have mentioned it, and besides, when would their paths even have crossed?

But Hanguang Jun is your adopted father/mentor figure, and even though he has shown you nothing but kindness, you know how stoic and reserved he is to the rest of the world. Yet he treats Mo Xuanyu with a care you have never seen him offer to anyone besides yourself and his brother. He is never like this around strangers, and you don’t understand what is going on.

(edit: now on ao3)

You part ways, then meet back up again not too long afterwards, and any pretense Hanguang Jun might have had at not being incredibly close to Mo Xuanyu dissolves. When they fight together at Yi City, there is a familiarity in the ease of their movements, the way they never have to look to make sure the other has his back. Sometimes when Hanguang Jun looks at Mo Xuanyu, you see more open emotion than you possibly have ever seen before. Hanguang Jun never flinches away from Mo Xuanyu’s touch.

Any pretense Mo Xuanyu might have had at being anything less than an expert cultivator also vanishes. He slips into the role of mentor and protector with ease, joking to keep all of you calm while he teaches you how to save your lives, always putting your safety above his. You wonder if it would be weird to consider a near-stranger fatherly.

He feeds your poisoned fellow Juniors ridiculously spicy congee, and it does cure them, despite all their complaining about how it murdered their mouths. You had tasted some when helping him make it, but even with how strongly it burned your tongue, there was a strange part of you liked it. For some reason it taste familiar, like home somehow, even though you have lived in the Lan sect for as long as you can remember and they only have bland, spiceless food.

That’s when the memories begin coming back, slow and weak, like a faint flute melody in the wind, too quiet to fully make out.

You do not remember your early childhood. This is hardly an unusual phenomenon, but you still feel its loss. You were not always a Lan. That development came when you were around four or five, according to what others have told you. Four seems an old enough age that you always thought that you should have at least some idea of what happened before, but you never have.

But now you have the faint impression of a different vendor in a different city selling a similar grass butterfly to the one you bought on impulse despite being far too old for toys. You think of the familiarity of congee, of the reedy melody you heard the night you met Mo Xuanyu and then again as the Ghost General stopped attacking the juniors and ran off into the trees. You have a handful of clues, but they paint no coherent picture.

These thoughts haunt you for three months, but since Mo Xuanyu returns to Cloud Recesses as you continue on your night hunts, there is nothing but the occasional sparks of familiarity around random items or phrases to fill in the missing parts.

And then the word comes out that Mo Xuanyu is actually Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, the founder of demonic cultivation. This is the man who killed thousands, who betrayed the clans, who murdered his own family, including the parents of your—your friend? the boy you’ve run into a few times and survived life-or-death situations with?

Except when everybody else reacts with anger and fear, you... don’t. You can’t explain why, but the name Wei Wuxian brings an echo of comfort, half buried under all the horrible stories you’ve heard about him.

Part of you wonders if it has anything to do with the whispers of memories, that faint deja vu that has started haunting you. Or maybe it’s the way that Hanguang Jun has always turned sad at the mention of Wei Wuxian, how he never speaks a bad word about him despite their alleged rivalry. All your fellow juniors are terrified and furious and hurt at having been deceived, at having grown to like this eccentric man who teased them and saved their lives then turned out to be the monster from all their childhood bedtime stories, and even though you understand them, you feel none of that.

He saves all of you not too long afterwards, and you can’t say you are surprised. Even when all evidence pointed to him being the one to trap you and your friends in a cave for days, it never seemed quite right to you.

It was a set up you learn, as he and Hanguang Jun and the Ghost General save you from an army of corpses and reveal the true traitor. All those terrible deeds you’ve spent your whole life hearing about are not explained away, but this one is, and you have faith that Wei Wuxian is not the villain everyone has made him out to be.

His Ghost General, Wen Ning, certainly isn’t. A living corpse who has slaughtered armies sounds terrifying, but in reality he’s rather sweet. There is something so soft and hopeful in his eyes as he approaches you and asks you for his name. Your friends keep their hands on their swords, but you offer him a smile and an answer. There’s something familiar about him too.

Maybe that’s why you talk to him, despite the intense look in his eyes. Or maybe because he seemed so sad, alone, separated from everyone else, and the intensity seems anything but dangerous. “You—look like my cousin,” he says, and you start to wonder, everything so close to sliding into place.

You don’t know who your parents are or where you came from, but there is something about the clan name Wen that feels so close to something right, despite all the tales you’ve heard about the destruction they wrought.

Then he gives you a grass butterfly, so similar to the one you bought at the market, so similar to something you know was important to you long ago. And like one last pebble taken out from the base of a wall, this small token brings everything above it crumbling down, and suddenly the memories start spilling in. You look at him properly now, because this was your relative, and you once lived with and played with him. He sees the recognition in your eyes, you know, because he steps forward, trembling.

Of course, Jin Ling has to ruin the moment, but now that you know, there is nothing in the world that could keep you from talking to him and finding out more. You were a Wen, you think. You must have been raised in the Burial Grounds by Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch. You were one of the people he betrayed all the clans to protect. No wonder you never feared the stories of the monstrous Wens and Yiling Patriarch. How could you when they were your family, when you were one of them?

You never could have lived among the Lan Sect if people knew, so you understand why it had to remain a secret.

Still. You have to know more.

“Did Master Wei really put a five year old child in the soil like a turnip?” you ask Wen Ning, at the nearest opportunity. That child was you, and both of you know it, even if you can’t say it out loud, not this close to all these people who would be willing to turn on Wei Wuxian on any excuse, who would be willing to turn on you if they knew the truth.

Wen Ning smiles and nods, and there is more life in the glow of his eyes than any corpse has the right to have. “Just like this!” he says, gesturing, as sparks of memory come back even stronger than before.

And then of course everything goes wrong. Wen Ning throws you into the temple where all the leaders of the four main clans plus Wei Wuxian and Hanguang Jun and a few others are. Jin Guangyao is holding a thread around your friend’s (you think you can call him your friend by now) throat and there is blood, and so many secrets spilled, confessions made.

In the midst of it all, you see Wei Wuxian for the first time since you started to remember, and now there are more memories, sharper, clearer. You remember his spicy congee, the toy butterfly so similar to the ones you hold now that Hanguang Jun bought for you that day Wei Wuxian took you out into the city. Back then, you hadn’t really understood the significance of all those things, why you lived on a mountain full of buried bones, why Wei Wuxian hadn’t bought that toy himself, but now you are older and you know some of the history behind it. Not all of it, you are sure, since so many assumptions of the past have just been proven wrong tonight, and the history you were told had never mentioned the existence of a small child among the supposedly evil remnants of the Wen clan.

You do not know the full truth, but you want to.

Even once everything is over, with the enemies dead and gone, there are a million things going on, relationships being broken or repaired for the first time in over a decade, injuries to be treated, people to reassure that you are okay, that you made it out alive. It takes a bit for you to peel away from everything, to speak to Wei Wuxian, but you find Wen Ning, and the two of you manage to catch up before Wei Wuxian and Hanguang Jun can go far.

Your thoughts and memories are still chaotic and scattered, little bursts of images and sensations that only barely form a coherent picture. But you summon all your determination, sixteen years of questions that are now clamoring for answers in your brain. You take a deep breath. “I have something important that I must ask you.”

Your heart is pounding, and in the past few days, you have faced an army of fierce corpses and fought against the Ghost General (for which he has apologized a thousand times) and helped confront a master manipulator, and somehow this is the most terrifying thing you have done. You are so sure of the truth, but some part of you doubts. How can you truly be sure when you were so young? And even if the man in front of you helped raise so long ago, how can you know if he still has any affection for you, that he is willing to recognize you? These are irrational fears, you know, but they weigh heavily.

Still, you meet his gaze with eyes that are already starting to water and begin to speak of your long-buried memories, the words spilling out with more and more ease as you continue to talk, as his expression changes from confusion to something full of grief and slow realization.

“Wen was my surname,” you say, now confident of this fact, your previous doubts melted away in the face of Wei Wuxian’s teary eyes.

He looks away, blinking as if he can’t believe it and mutters, “Wen was your surname? Isn’t Lan your surname? Lan Sizhui... Lan Yuan... Lan Yuan.” Then he looks up at you with so much hope, full of a scared longing that you know is the same as what fills your own heart. “A-Yuan.”

It has been a lifetime since you last heard your name called out in that voice, and you wonder how you could have gone so long without even knowing you were missing it. You nod. Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes, but you can’t be bothered to fight them.

You can tell it doesn’t seem quite real to him, the way he looks so afraid to believe it. He thought you were dead this whole time, you realize when he turns to Hanguang Jun for confirmation. And that breaks your heart a little more. He had lost so much, and you had lost so much even if you weren’t fully aware of it, but now you have found each other all over again, and the miraculousness of that is almost too much to bear.

You rush forward to hug him, sixteen years of Lan propriety forgotten. You are a child again, clinging onto a man you have always loved, except you are also an adult with so many years of separation only hitting you now that you are finally reunited. You are both and neither, and as his arms come up to wrap around you, you know that all that matters is that you are home.

#the untamed #lan sizhui #lan yuan #wei wuxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #wen ning #wen yuan #my post #my writing #mo dao zu shi #mdzs

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danny-chase · 3 years

Note

hello! if you're still taking requests for your bthb card, could i request Insomnia with Dick Grayson?

Thanks for the request! In case anyone's wondering, requests are still open :D

Insomnia - Read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (Comics), Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Dick Grayson/Joseph Wilson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Barbara Gordon (implied), Donna Troy, Joseph Wilson, Jason Todd, Lilith Clay (briefly), Danny Chase (briefly), Lian Harper (briefly) Additional Tags: Emotional Whump, Dick Grayson Whump, Protective Roy Harper, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Kissing, POV Alternating, POV Dick Grayson, POV Roy Harper, Black Eye, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Sleep Deprivation, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Pancakes, IHOP Series: Part 7 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

An old friend comes to visit when Dick finds himself unable to fall asleep.

Full story under cut

Now: A doorbell sharply buzzed as Roy walked through the glass door, a half-asleep attendant perking up in front of him. The room was cramped, the flooring tacky, unkempt ancient wallpaper peeled at the seams. A bucket sat in the corner catching a steady drip of – what he hoped was – water.

The lady gave him an unimpressed look, her manicured nails clattering against the keys of a dusty old laptop. “You here for a parole meeting?” Roy rolled his eyes.

“Lady, do I look like I’m here for a parole meeting?” She shrugged, shuffling some papers. Her icy blue eyes lingered on his sling for a moment.

“Could have fooled me, you get in a fight?” Crossing her arms, she stared at him challengingly.

He widened his stance. “Nah I’m here for-”

“Robbie Malone.” A robotic voice chipped in his ear.

“Robbie Malone, you can charge bail to this card.” He finished, slipping an envelope out of his pocket.

Clacking away, she sliced open the envelope. “I’ll need proof of ID.” She continued, not giving him a second glance. He bristled, placing his left hand on the counter, flexing his muscles. The clattering sped up, growing louder as she determinedly focused on the screen. “Waiting room is over there.” She titled her head towards a dark hallway.

“Everything alright?” The earpiece buzzed. Dingy lights flickered as he made his way to the room. He sighed as he entered the room, finding a too-small uncomfortable looking chair.

“Peachy.” Leaning against the doorway, he rubbed his aching right arm, breathing deeply. Crossing the room, he took his place in the shitty chair. Tilting his head back, he stared at the off-white, water-stained ceiling.

How the hell did we get here?

Last Night: Dick aimlessly stared up, counting the holes in the safe-house’s ceiling tiles. If he counted one row and one column he could multiply them – but he kept messing up and starting over.

This wasn’t productive. He should be doing literally anything else. He was moping, this was pointless, he ought to-

Shit, I lost count.

He started over. In truth – he’d tried getting up but a weight in his chest pinned him to the spot. Stars danced above his head – mixing with the holes - but he couldn’t bring himself to care – he was just… so tired.

There’d been a human trafficking ring – it was gruesome sure, but he’d seen gruesome before - he’d been managing fine – then obsessed – he let this happen - this was his fault – Bruce would be disappointed – Babs too –

Fuck it, he didn’t care anymore. And he lost his count.

He felt awful – like his body was imploding. He needed a shower. Couldn’t remember the last time he ate. He hadn’t slept in five(?) – he wasn’t keeping track anymore but he didn’t even have an excuse not to sleep anymore.

He could sleep any time he wanted.

Yeah - he chose not to sleep…

Totally.

He closed his eyes. The case was over – that’s what was bothering him right? He could sleep now – he was fine – the kids were safe – everyone was safe – everyone was –

Don’t think about it.

His eyes shot open before he could see her face. His insides squirmed – he rolled over, picking himself off the floor, compelled to do something – he couldn’t patrol, Bruce had helped with cleanup and ordered him home – the thought of food was nauseating, that was out – he could clean… but he didn’t even know where to start – he could –

Someone knocked on the door… was he expecting someone? At… what time was it? It was dark out and the clock was too blurry to read. Another knock and he lost his train of thoughts.

Drawn forward, as if in a daze, he gripped the door-knob, twisting before even bothering to look through the peephole.

That’s how Barbara got shot. Bruce’s voice chided.

He grinned as he swung open the door, revealing a shining face. “Donna.” He nearly tripped over the doorstep, Donna laughing at his antics, spreading her arms wide.

“Good to see you, Boy Wonder. Heard you were having a rough night, I thought you might want to talk?” Dick nodded, already enveloping her in a tight hug, lost in the faint scent of coconut shampoo. “Let’s take a walk.”

Now: Roy sat, watching a clock across from him tick. His ass hurt – arm hurt – he hadn’t eaten breakfast. He was supposed to spend the day with Lian – but fuck – here he was cleaning up after the batboy. Dick owed him pancakes. With chocolate chips. Maybe eggs. Homecooked – like he used to make post-successful mission.

Who was he kidding?

He was sitting in a county jail waiting around for a friend he hadn’t talked to in nearly a month. They couldn’t just eat pancakes and magically fix everything. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to ignore the awkwardness of the situation.

It was a shame – Dick’s pancakes were amazing. Yeah. Pancakes…

Had the clock grown louder when he wasn’t watching?

He pulled out his phone, resolving to find the nearest IHop. If things were going to be awkward, he would at least have food to distract him. “You owe me a meal.” He whispered into the earpiece.

“There’s an iHop 5 minutes away. Turn left coming out and it’ll be on your right.”

“How did you-”

“I’m amazed you think I can’t get into your phone.” Showoff. He quietly whistled.

“Rob’s got friends in high places.” The voice was silent for a moment. It was the weirdest thing (albeit not the weirdest thing that had happened to him) – someone had just slipped an envelope and earpiece on his kitchen table – a letter O was written on an attached sticky note.

“You’d be right about that.” There was an unspoken rule in the superhero community – never turn down an assignment for Oracle.

Last Night: Metal squealed as he swung back and forth on a little swing set. “I miss this.” He pumped his legs forward. “We should do stupid shit more often.” He flipped off the swing – doing a perfect double flip before landing. “You see that?” He beamed, turning to face – “Donna?!”

“Yes, yes, you’re brilliant. The crowd goes wild.” She rolled her eyes, politely clapping. “But I came out to talk to youuu, and you haven’t even told me how you’re doing.” She swung her legs, keeping her swing impossibly still. Well. She was Donna – she was perfect – she could do things like that.

“I’m fine.” He solved the case after all – that was what had been keeping him up – he could sleep after this.

“Dick…” The corners of her mouth turned down, pulling at the strings of his heart as they went – Donna was perfect, he was having fun – things were fine.

“Don’t – please – I’m fine, I don’t want to fight right now.” His mouth went dry, his pulse speeding uncontrollably. “Could we just… keep hanging out on the swings? Like we used to?” His legs shook, knees threatening to give out. “Please?” He croaked.

“Okay.” She pulled out a camera, smiling. “Next time, I’ll take a picture.”

Now: This was taking forever. He impatiently tapped the side of the chair, staring at the blank wall ahead of him.

“I can play music.” The voice offered.

“How long is this going to take?” He groaned – his arm throbbed; he left his ibroufen at home. Fuck. His. Life.

“Maybe thirty more minutes.” Came the guess.

“I’ve been here forever.” He complained; he was starting to suspect the lady was purposefully taking her time.

“It’s only been one hour.” The voice deadpanned. “Quit whining or I’ll play country.” Roy sighed.

“You got Rob’s playlist?” Maybe it was silly, but listening to his friends’ playlists made him feel a bit closer to them. And dammit, he missed Dick.

“Mmmhmm.” If nothing else, Dick’s trash taste in music was better than country.

Last Night: He caught a glimpse of a familiar face walking towards the playground. His heart swelled, chest lifting as he leaped off the swing.

He fumbled the landing, recovering quickly – and running, he spread his arms open wide. “Joey?!” His feet pounded on the grass, and he launched himself into a flying hug, momentum accidentally carrying them both to the ground. Dick laughed, hugging Joe tight, hands racing through his golden curls.

Empathetic eyes found his, concern clear, swimming behind stunning green irises. It was as if Joey was looking in his soul – or rather - his heart. Joey started signing. ‘Are you-’

Dick cut him off. “I’m fine, can I just – have this?” Joey’s face softened, leaning forward. Dick closed the gap between them, cradling the back of his head in his hands. Their lips met, butterflies filling his stomach – he was on top of the world - completely invincible in the moment. He slipped a hand up, feeling Joey’s steady pulse, and moved down, adorning his neck with a kiss.

Joey tenderly pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. ‘Not here.’ He signed. They were in public – not that he cared.

“I love you.” Dick protested, standing, and pulling Joey to his feet. He kissed his hand, tugging him into another hug. “I should have told you sooner.” He whispered.

They stood, illuminated by moonlight – melding into one. Joey was soft and warm, and smelled of honeysuckle. He felt nineteen again, dumb and in love, with everything to lose – but everything to gain, spending reckless nights flirting and teasing. Donna cheered in the distance. It was breathtaking, he was happier than he’d felt in years.

Perfection was something he was always searching for – and this – right here – he’d finally found it.

Joey pulled back, signing again. ‘I love you too.’ He smiled softly, studying his face. ‘You haven’t been sleeping.’ Reaching out, he gently pushed back Dick’s bangs, leaning forward for a quick kiss before pulling away again. ‘You promised not to do this.’

Dick brushed off his worry, taking Joey by the hands. “I swear I’m fine – I feel better than I have in years now you’re both here.”

Someone laughed behind him. No. It can’t be. The laugh continued, tinkling like a little bell. Joey placed a hand on his shoulder, tears welling in his eyes as he turned.

“Jason?”

Now: “Rob?” Dick stepped into the little room, stonily staring at the floor. Stubble decorated his unshaven face, his left eye swelling – bruises blossoming across his face. The skin under both was dark and puffy, his eyes bloodshot. Roy rose to his feet - automatically rushing forward. The lady stepped between them, getting in his face and handing him a thousand papers to sign.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, he needs medical attention.” Roy bit back a scream. Dick crossed his arms, refusing to meet his eyes, as he tried to get a better look. His mouth was set in a taught line, as if determined to show no emotion.

“He refused. Sign the papers.” The lady spat, shoving a pen at him.

“You better fu-”

“Play nice!” Chided the voice in his ear. “Just sign the papers. I’ll pay for all the pancakes you can eat.”

“Excuse me?” Frost tinged the woman’s words. She turned on her heel, whipping her hair around – almost hitting his face as she stormed back to her desk.

“I’m signing the goddamn papers.” He aggressively clicked the pen open. Fuck this. He scribbled his signature as fast as he could, flying through the papers, throwing them each at the lady as he finished.

Dick remained silent, staring at the floor, standing completely still.

“What the fuck did you even do?” The woman sneered at him disapprovingly. He shoved the last paper at her, throwing the pen on the counter. Dick remained silent.

“They picked him up at 3rd street park this morning.” The voice supplied. “He’s charged with loitering and resisting arrest.”

Last Night: “It can’t…” He trailed off, looking at Jason’s grinning face.

“Sure it can.” Jason asserted, darting forward. “Tag!” His heart leaped, as he ran after. Laughing, Jason took the steps to the little castle two at a time, meeting Lilith at the top.

“Oh no, I don’t want to play.” She put her hands up. “Get Danny instead!” He turned, watching Danny wave from over by the fountain. He kept contorting the water into different shapes.

Dick grinned, running forward. “No way, I’m going for my baby brother!” Jason snorted, flaunting around on top of a slide. His smile was so wide – always so wide –

Robin gives me magic.

Dick doubled his speed, they should go for ice cream after this – just the two of them, like old times.

“Please, as if an old geezer could catch me.” Jason taunted, doing a cartwheel as Dick started climbing up a rock wall to the top. “Especially with the shape he’s in.”

“I’m in better shape than you!” He teased back.

“You really aren’t.” Donna’s face appeared at his side startling him, he found himself losing his grip – falling back off the rock wall. His shoulders hit woodchips, knocking the wind out of him. “If you were, that wouldn’t have happened.” She pointed out.

Dick couldn’t breathe – his lungs were frozen – he couldn’t –

Joey kneeled on his other side, helping him sit up. He wheezed, desperately sucking in air.

“See you can breathe.” Jason’s head popped out overtop the wall. “Must be nice.” He muttered.

“What -” he panted, “do you… mean?” A coughing fit overtook him. Donna slapped his back.

“Really?” Jason looked at him mournfully. “You’re being pathetic.”

“Jason!” Donna chided. “Quit reminding him we’re-”

“Don’t!” Dick sputtered, burying his chest in Joey’s shirt. It smelled like honeysuckle – honeysuckle and lilac. “Please!” This was all he had left. “Don’t take this from me. Please, Jason – PLEASE!” Broken fragments and shards of memories.

“Robin?” Tears spilled over into Joey’s shirt. His heart was bursting in his chest. Let him have this. Please. For just a moment more. Joey pushed him back slightly.

Jason popped up in front of him, looking at him accusingly. “I thought I was Robin.”

Now: “Dick, what happened to you?” Roy asked, rummaging through the trunk. No response. He looked up through the rear-view mirror. Dick stared out the window – looking at nothing at all. “Dick?” What the hell?

His hands closed around the first aid kid. He slammed the trunk walking back up to the front seat.

“How is he?” Roy nearly dropped the kit, anger overcoming him.

“How is he?! How is he?!” He flailed his arms. “That’s it! You fucking Bat people just keep pushing and pushing each other - tell Bruce he’s FUCKING OUT OF THE GAME – that’s all you fucking people care about isn’t it-”

“-Roy you don’t understand-”

“I UNDERSTAND JUST FINE!” A couple across the street stared at him. He shooed them off, putting his phone up to his ear belatedly as a cover.

“We love him too.” The voice insisted. “I only want what’s best for him. So does Bruce.”

“Then where the fuck is he? And why isn’t he the one bailing him out?” The line went silent for a moment.

“I said I wanted what’s best for him. Why do you think I sent you?” Roy found himself speechless – not a problem, the voice continued. “Wally was busy, and Garth is still in the hospital, and you should visit him by the way, Dick’s only been stopping by at night - they haven’t even talked! ROY! Don’t talk to me about understanding Dick Grayson, you aren’t the only person who gives a shit about him.”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. What the fuck was going on? “Does Bruce even know?” Another pause.

“No.”

“What do you want me to do?” Roy watched cars whiz past on the little town road.

Finally, the voice replied. “I don’t know.”

Last Night: A calloused hand rested on his shoulder. His fists still clenched Joey’s shirt, tears blurring his vision.

“Dick, aren’t you going to turn around?” Jason asked, squatting on the ground. Panic overtook him.

“I can’t.” He tucked his knees to his chest. She can’t see me like this. He was pathetic.

“Mm.” Donna hummed knowingly. “Why not?”

“You know.” Joey gently patted his back as he squeezed harder.

“I do.” She dropped down slipping an arm over Jason’s shoulders. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

“Why are you doing this?” He choked back a sob. “Can’t we just… talk on the swings – and Jason we can go out for ice cream you can meet Danny and Joey and Lilith can come and - ”

“Dick. Look at me.” Donna placed a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he met her eyes. “You know we can’t stay.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t know this is all in your head. You’re smarter than that.” Jason kicked wood chips without spraying any around. “We didn’t die so you could end up like this.” Joey tapped his shoulder.

‘What he means is, we love you and it hurts to see you like this.’

“Dick, if you won’t talk to us, could you talk to them.” Donna sadly smiled.

“I’m sorry.” He was a disappoint – a failure – it was his fault – his –

“Deep down you know I made a decision.” Donna stated. “And that I don’t regret it.” Dick jumped to his feet. “What do you mean you don’t regret it – you fucking DIED FOR ME, DONNA. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!” He grabbed her by the front of her overalls, she just sadly smiled as he shook her. “YOU LEFT ME ALONE! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME – DONNA – HOW COULD YOU!?” She shrugged as he screamed, dropping to the ground. “It’s hard for you to look at me?! Try looking at your graves and knowing that you’re the reason you died!”

Joey placed a hand on his shoulder. Dick stared at him. “I’m so tired of being alive.” He confessed. Joey pulled him into a hug. “Just. Let me stay with you… please.” He breathed in, but the scent of honeysuckle was long gone - the warmth of Joey’s body fading. “Please?”

“Dickie.” He’d nearly forgotten the sound of his father’s voice. “You have someone to get back to.”

“Multiple someones.” Donna added.

“A new little Robin.” Jason noted. “Take care of him for me, okay?”

“Can’t you just stay?” Joey shook his head. The hand slipped off his shoulder.

“Sleep well, love. Take care of yourself. We love you.”

He turned, diving for a hug, finding nothing but empty air, as he skidded through woodchips, splinters tearing through his skin. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he screamed, clamping onto their wrist. No. No one was getting away this time. Just as he looked up, a blow finally sent him into darkness.

Now: “So… How are the pancakes?” Roy shoved another scoop into his own mouth. Dick poked at his plate without actually eating anything. “Hey, I bought those. You’re going to eat them.” Dick wistfully swirled a piece around in syrup. “Lian’s going to be jealous.” A spark of recognition passed through Dick’s eyes at the mention of her name.

Alright. New tactics then. Talk about his daughter. Oh, this would be easy. “She’s been getting math homework recently. Math homework! Can you believe it? She’s in first grade and this teacher is already giving out math!” He blundered through the conversation, Dick slowly looking up to make eye contact. “And it’s not the crap we learned as kids either. They want them to count a whole different way! I mean how on earth do you count differently.”

“Binary.” Dick suggested, Roy tried not to cringe at how rough and raw his voice sounded.

“So, you could help her with that, yeah?” Two birds, one stone. “She needs help and you’re the best math nerd I know.” Dick turned to stare mournfully out the window. “Finish your food, we’ll go back to my house, you can sleep, and I’ll bring home Lian, and when your brain’s working again you can help her with math, sound good - yeah?”

He probably failed to keep the panic out of his voice, but at this point he didn’t know what else to do if Dick said no. They weren’t kids anymore – he couldn’t force Dick to do anything he didn’t want to, or call in Bruce. It felt like he was teetering on the edge of losing another friend.

Now: He was hurting Roy – Roy’s smile was forced, his shoulders were tense, he was holding his fork too tight. Dick looked out the window, avoiding his gaze.

You have someone to get back too. Multiple someones.

Lian needed math help. Roy needed someone to talk to. Tim needed more training.

Donna could have helped Lian. Joey could have talked to Roy. And Jason should have been the one training.

They weren’t here anymore.

When are you going to face reality?

“Okay.”

He stabbed into a piece of pancake and stuffed it in his mouth. For the first time in days, he ate something that didn’t taste like ash.

Later: Roy flipped through channels, as casual conversation continued in the kitchen. “Okay so if you cut the pancake like this, it’s in thirds, so there are 3 pieces. Get it? Like halves but now there’s one more piece.” Dick had been trying to explain fractions for the past fifteen minutes.

“Mmmm, do I get to eat the pancake?” Lian giggled, smacking the table excitedly. Roy admired her ability to avoid talking about math, that – that was something she got from him.

Time had passed, Dick was rebounding – he always did, and Lian got a perfect score on her last test. Things were good.

For now…

One day, they wouldn’t bounce back – maybe he would die or Dick would shatter, but for tonight fractions were being taught with pancakes – and that wasn’t something he thought possible a week ago. And as Lian served him his piece, he painted on a smile because that’s all they could really do anymore – real smiles seemed to have died with Donna – but maybe if they kept surviving, they could go back to living.

Dick knowingly cocked an eyebrow and placed a hand on his shoulder, ducking down to whisper thanks in his ear, wrapping his arms around his neck, squeezing tighter than usual. Dick’s chin settled on his shoulder, warm puffs of air a constant reminder of his presence.

Tomorrow was unknown, but tonight Dick was alive and healing and Lian was smiling and squealing, and for him, that was enough.

#bad things happen bingo #titans #nightwing #dick grayson #roy harper #dickjoey #joey wilson #donna troy #my writing

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bipercabeth · 4 years

Note

"i would have been there for you" with a dash of "you've changed" because i like throwing curve balls and think that has the potential to crack my sternum in half

(tw blood and injury)

The summer before the Titan War is the weirdest of Percy’s life.

For most demigods that’s a given, but for Percy it’s kind of a feat. What could be weirder than the summer he defeated flesh eating birds with Dean Martin music and was later turned to a guinea pig? Or the one where he blew up his school before a not-date with a pretty girl and walked across the country in a day thanks to a sentient underground tunnel? But somehow, the summer where he and Annabeth aren’t together is the weirdest.

Not together. Just not... together. She’s angry, so he gets angry and goes to Rachel, and she gets angry for him getting angry and going to Rachel, and he gets angry about her getting angry about him getting angry about her being angry. It’s a viscous cycle, but the times do come where they have to put it aside for the greater good. Preventing the upheaval of the gods can’t rest solely on the shoulders of two demigods dancing around their feelings for each other, right?

Right?!

They get called for a quest. The requirement to go to the Oracle to leave camp was thrown out the window a while ago, but so far most of the missions have been large groups or solo. But this information about river spirits came from Daedalus’s laptop, meaning it’s indisputably a Percy and Annabeth job. Chiron is reluctant to send them both, claiming it’s something Percy can do alone, but Annabeth fixes him with a champion glare and he caves.

Somehow they make it out in one piece with minimal offense to the river spirits, who promise to be allies should Kronos’s army march on camp again, which is all Percy is comfortable asking of them. Sounding the alarm is one thing, but it’s entirely too much to ask a nature spirit to waste their life force fighting back.

The following happens too quickly for Percy to process. Something erupts from the trees as they leave the riverbank. Annabeth shoves him down and raises her dagger to shield him. The river spirit handles the creature. Annabeth stumbles and swears in pain.

The impact with the forest floor steals Percy’s breath, leaving him in a daze while Annabeth disappears behind him. The creature bellows and explodes into dust before Percy ever makes out what it is.

“You have to leave,” the river spirit calls. “They know you’re here. Take your friend and go!”

Percy puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles while rising from the dirt. Annabeth is leaning against a tree a few feet away, breathing heavily and holding her arm funny.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” He wants to run to her, to touch her. He doesn’t.

Her head falls back against the bark of the tree, where the light filtering through the leaves illuminates the sweat on her forehead. “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

Percy doesn’t buy it, but she has that stormy look in her eyes that tells him she isn’t budging. “Blackjack is on his way.”

A heavy sigh escapes her as she nods, still clutching her left arm. Percy retrieves her dagger from the ground and offers it to her, but her eyes are screwed shut. It’s not like her to show pain like this.

He looks at the holster on her leg. “I’m just gonna... uh...” He slides it into its sheath, taking every precaution not to touch her thigh and half expecting to get stabbed for it.

Great gusts of wind batter the fragile limbs of the trees as Blackjack sails down to them, his wide wings beating rhythmically. His hooves strike the earth and he trots over to Percy. Where to, boss?

“We gotta get back to camp,” Percy says, frowning at Annabeth.

Lady boss ain’t looking too hot.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” he mumbles.

Annabeth quirks an eyebrow at the two of them and rolls her eyes, walking to Blackjack with her nose in the air. She may not know what Blackjack said, but apparently that means it’s Percy’s fault. Everything seems to be Percy’s fault, these days.

She attempts to haul herself up, but her arm gives out and she ends up crying in pain. Percy catches her despite knowing she’d rather fall than accept help from him.

“I can do it myself,” she snaps, shouldering him away.

“You don’t have to though.” Percy throws his hands in the air. “Plus, you’re injured.”

Annabeth’s grip on her arm tightens. “This isn’t from today.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She glares at him. “It’s from a quest from a few weeks ago. It didn’t heal right, but the infirmary is full. I’ll get it checked out later.”

“What quest?”

“Excuse me?”

“What quest did you get hurt on?” Anger rises in Percy’s chest, both at the thought of Annabeth getting injured and her keeping him in the dark about it.

She attempts to shrug, then winces. “Does it matter? It’s over.” Her shot at a casual tone misses by miles.

Percy tries to swallow the anger, he really does. “You’re hurt. That matters.”

For a moment, she almost softens. The cold mask she’s plastered on cracks at the edges, revealing raw hurt.

Uh, guys. Hate to break up this lovely argument, really, but we’ve got company.

Blackjack is right. Pounding steps thunder along the opposite riverbank, rattling the leaves like a warning. Percy grabs Annabeth’s leg and hauls her onto the pegasus, trusting that she’ll do the rest herself. Usually he’d hop up first and ride in front, but he doesn’t trust her ability to hold on with that arm.

Percy’s heartbeat doesn’t slow, not even once they’re in the sky with the riverbank far behind them. He’s almost certain Annabeth can feel it pressed against her. She leans back into Percy a bit heavier than necessary, occasionally jolting against his arms, which are around her to grip Blackjack’s mane. To say he’s freaking out would be an understatement.

And then something drips from Annabeth’s bent elbow onto his arm. Percy balks when he sees it’s blood.

“Fuck, Annabeth. You’re bleeding.” No response. “Annabeth??”

Her head rolls on Percy’s shoulder.

“Blackjack, hurry.”

Blackjack doesn’t ask questions, just tucks his wings and dashes to camp. Percy can’t get his ambrosia without letting go of Annabeth, which simply isn’t in the cards. He wraps around her until his chest is sticky with their sweat. Sweat washes out. Losing Annabeth is a stain Percy could never scrub himself clean of.

He doesn’t know what he says to her as they fly—probably some half-baked combination of you’re going to be okay, and we’re almost there, and if you survive this I swear I will kill you myself.

Percy’s feet hit the ground a second after Blackjack’s hooves. They’re parked right on the porch of the Big House, interrupting a heated conversation between Chiron and Clarisse, who startle at the sight of Percy. Clarisse is the first to gather her wits. She moves to take Annabeth off Blackjack, which she is certainly the most qualified to do, but Percy beats her to it.

“Jackson, you’re hurt,” she grunts, gesturing to his chest. “Let me.”

“Not hurt,” Percy says. “Taking her to Michael.”

Chiron’s tail swishes nervously. “Percy—”

“The river spirits are on our side,” he interrupts. “Now will one of you open the damn door?”

Clarisse assists him through the doorways while Chiron goes to fetch Michael Yew from archery practice. If it weren’t Annabeth’s life on the line, Percy would feel bad for the guy. He hasn’t slept since Lee died last summer, especially not with the way the infirmary is looking.

Chiron and Clarisse hover alongside Percy while Michael works his magic, sending up a healing hymn to his father after dressing the wound. He scolds Annabeth the moment she wakes, chastising her for not telling him sooner. After a glance at Chiron, he orders her bed rest for a week.

“No. I have another mission in three days.” She looks at Clarisse. “You can’t do it without me.”

Clarisse almost smiles at Annabeth’s petulance. “I’ll take Malcolm. Or maybe even Pipsqueak here.” She claps Percy on the back.

Annabeth’s tone turns pleading. “Chiron...”

She finds the same unbending will. “No, child. This has gone too far. You’re to stay here until Michael releases you.”

Michael looks less than thrilled to be subjected to Annabeth’s wrath for the next week. “Okay, Percy. Your turn.”

“I’m not hurt.”

Everyone’s eyes flash to Percy’s chest in doubt. He tears his gaze away from Annabeth to look.

Blood—Annabeth’s blood—runs down his shirt from the ride over. From an outside perspective, it looks like Percy’s very heart is bleeding out of his chest.

She won’t look at him when he raises his gaze, so he supposes it is.

“Blood’s not mine,” he mumbles.

The room clears shortly after.

Percy, however, is rooted to the floor beside Annabeth’s bed. She looks exhausted, though he can tell she’s trying to hide it while he’s still here. He should leave. So she can sleep.

He can’t.

“I would have been there for you,” he says, “if you told me.”

She almost laughs. What escapes is a bitter sound that’s foreign in her mouth. “Yeah, well. You’ve changed.”

It’s a defensive lie, and they both know it. Percy has changed, but not to that degree. He will stop at nothing to pull his friends out of the water, even if it means drowning himself. Such is the way of a loyal creature.

His voice is low in his chest, hurt resonating in his heart. “You know that’s not true.”

Annabeth raises her chin. “Do I?” When have you been around to prove it?

Michael pokes his head in the room, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Percy, Chiron wants to talk to you about the river spirits.”

The silence is saturated, filled with blood just like the cotton of Percy’s shirt. “Sure. I’ll be out in a second.”

Michael shifts his weight, creaking the floorboards. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

When Percy looks back at Annabeth, her eyes are closed. The rigidity of her jaw gives her away, but Percy knows a sign when he sees one. So he leaves.

#this is way more painful than the beginning makes it sound lmao #drabbles #my fic #my percabeth #pjo fics #jersey tag #iris messages #jerseydevious

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blight-magic · 2 years

Text

You Asked For This || One-shot

Summary: After the Boiling Isles trip is announced, Amity feels the pressure not to show up empty-handed.

Time to take on a demon.

tw: violence, some description of injury!

“Why are you always sneaking around campus at 3 in the morning? Why are you always making me get up and put on my shoes and look for you?”

Hecate turns around, and like always, there she is. Like always, Azura has the stars in her eyes. Like always, she doesn’t understand. If Hecate wanted to, Azura would never hear her when she gets up at night. But Hecate only gets lost so that Azura will find her.

Azura takes a step forward. “Please talk to me.”

Hecate wants to take her hand. She imagines what it would be like to do that and what could possibly come next. What would they talk about if Hecate stopped insulting her?

But she says nothing instead.

Disappointment flies like a comet across Azura’s face. “Hecate…”

“Go back to sleep, Azura.” Stay here. “You can’t help me.”

-From Chapter 12 of “Glass Diamonds” by teenageabomination128.

–

Amity had run out of time.

In one week, she was going back to the Boiling Isles. One week. When the trip was announced, she hadn’t slept, too busy pacing in her room as she scrounged for excuses for her parents, and found none. She knew exactly what they were going to say. Why hadn’t she gotten the seal? Why hadn’t she gotten the seal? Why didn’t she have more information? What was she doing? Who cared about swim team? Why hadn’t she gotten the seal? Who was Riley Andersen anyway?

So Amity gave up on sleep and that morning, she went to build her golem.

It was not at all like the golem she made from the Isles. At home, she dug into the pits to get the richest, wettest material, and the clay was a grotesque, unnatural purple, something Emira claimed looked like “goblin sick.” In Enchantra, Amity finally found the perfect clay in the darkwood at the shore of the river. As she dug, the mud slicked red up her arms until it looked like she’d committed a murder. The more reagents she added, the redder and brighter that colour became. Until now, when it was finally ready.

In the end, the recipe hadn’t called for the usual stuff. She’d taken away the high winds from the quarry, and subtracted the damp from the Kohaku River, and left out the first and last rays of the sun peeking through the clouds.

In the end, the recipe to make her living clay had been from the town itself. She’d gotten the idea from Howl Pendragon, actually. After everything else failed, she’d remembered what he said: Swynlake had its unique magic. So what made it that way?

The laughter from the carnival.

The twinkling from the Christmas Tree Lighting.

Flakes collected during the first snowfall.

What stupid traditions. When collecting those reagents, she hadn’t even thought she’d use them, it had just been her good little sorcerer habit, a way for her to feel normal in a place she didn’t fit in. But with these reagents in the heart of the clay, the golem began to stretch out like a cat, and then rise slowly, gently, up and down, matching Amity’s breath. Then she closed her eyes and pulled out her own memory from playing in the snow with Riley. She took her own confidence, from teaching Mim how to collect reagents wandless. She fed these things to the clay and the golem slithered toward her, firming up in her palm until it was as sleek and sharp as a dagger. An extension of her flesh– actually, it was better than her flesh. No matter how much it splattered and broke, she could remake it again.

“Hell yeah,” said Amity. And she smiled. “Let’s do this.”

–

Research on the demon in the cave hadn’t revealed much.

It was all rumour for the most part. Ashmedai was the demon’s name, supposedly, and he was some monstrous thing, supposedly, that could swallow a town if his appetite called for it– also supposedly. Except he hadn’t swallowed Swynlake. That was the weirdest part to her. Why would a powerful demon just camp out in a cave for a thousand years if he had enough power to level a town and absorb the magic held there?

He must have a weakness. And once Amity found it, the weakness would be all she needed to take him down.

But she wouldn’t find it in books or online. She’d even stalked some Reddit threads, but those bozos were all conspiracy theorist demon-hunter wannabes. Alador had taught her that the only way to win a fight was to control the fight. Always make the first move. Stay on offense. Beat your opponent into submission by never giving them time to think.

That had been her problem during Grom. This time, she’d throw everything she had at Asmedai until he rolled over and showed his belly. That’s all she needed– one moment, one mistake. The best intel she could get was in combat.

–

D-Day– one day before she was to leave for the Boiling Isles.

She woke up before dawn on one of the coldest days in Swynlake so far. Amity strapped herself into her boots. Underneath her Titan’s Cape, underneath her sweater, she wrapped her torso in duelling tape. Round and round, she covered her arms. She wrapped her knuckles. And then she pulled up her hood and headed down the stairs. The Inn creaked and groaned, itself a living beast, but no one got up to follow her, not even the ghosts. No one knew where she was going, and probably, no one cared.

But hey, here was a pro of having no travel buddies: time to check her AO3. She hadn’t posted a chapter in over a month, and kudos and stuff had slowed down. Not that she cared too much about kudos but…

She grinned at the email alerting her of a new comment on her latest chapter.

i loved this so much fttftftf i read the whole thing instead of going to sleep! i bookmarked this fic on my browser so i can check for updates in the future. No pressure ofc… but if you have any idea when you can?? Your writing is getting me thru the GWA drought!

She scrolled through the rest of the comments on her fic, even though she’d read them a million times already. But for a moment, these comments were the only thing that mattered. She forgot about where she was going– what each crunch of leaves underfoot meant. She forgot about seeing her mother in less than 24 hours.

Suddenly, she wasn’t alone at all.

this hurt sm .. wow you're so good pls

hecate is meanie :<< i hope she heals and azura deserves the world :((( love can be like that right, just giving yourself to someone who may or may not take it

can't wait for what the next update has !!

Why doesnt azura see hecate is mad gay for her????

thank u for writing this <3

Amity grinned and then she sped up into a light jog. She could do this. The sooner she did, the sooner she could go back to her casting desk to write.

At the mouth of the cave, Amity put her phone in her pocket and took out her wand. With a few swishes, the rune for light danced through the air and the wooden wand tip illuminated a moment later. Amity didn’t prep any more basic spells than this. What she needed, she had in her own blood.

Second time into the cave, Amity navigated the narrow walk with ease. She walked past the glowing moss and past the smelly pool of water. With the dim light, the walls appeared to sag around her, closer than she remembered. But that was just the time of day right? There were caverns like this on the Isle too, along the Titan’s Elbows— these thready, vein-like caverns which were the site of many Hexside Elementary field trips. Amity hadn’t been scared then, so she wouldn’t be scared now.

She passed the Bishop’s head. Just fifty more metres and the cave split into tentacle paths in all directions.

Here was where Amity fished into her pocket and took out Sugar.

When she first made Sugar, she poured as much of her own raw magic as she could into the clay. That was what Sugar loved most in the world: the smell and taste of magic, better than fire honey and appleblood and chocolate. All it took was a crumb of Amity’s magic to wake up her appetite. And so with a spark from Amity’s fingers, Sugar sprang to life and dropped down onto the cave floor with a squeak, then darted forward.

She stood alert in front of one of the tunnels. The magic permeated from deep within it. Even Amity could feel it– really, she didn’t need Sugar at all and should probably call her back. Despite all the magic Amity had poured into her, she was a delicate thing. Amity’s favourite thing.

But that’s why she didn’t call her back. She urged her forward. “Keep going,” said Amity. “I’m right behind you.”

When Sugar double-backed, that was when Amity knew.

She knelt down and scooped up the trembling Sugar, who tried to wiggle her way up Amity’s sleeve but was only met with the tight duelling tape. Amity curled her fingers around the mouse abomination. “It can’t be that bad,” she said to her. But from here, she could hear the snoring. It shook the entire tunnel, loose pebble and dirt raining down ahead of her. Sugar squeaked again and hid her face behind her paws.

“Oh come on, it’s really not that bad,” Amity said again. “What bad-ass demon snores?”

But she didn’t give Sugar her bravery. She kept that for other abominations, for her golem. So she tucked Sugar back into her pocket and flipped up the hood of her Titan’s Cape. What was that Latin saying about waking sleeping dragons? Probably that she shouldn’t, right?

A dragon had never met a Blight before.

Amity snuck forward and uncorked her golem’s pot. The golem slipped into her hand, then transformed into a coil of rope she held loosely, ready to be shaped in something more formidable. She peeked in, but it was impenetrably dark. She could only smell the demon’s rancid breath. With her other hand she moved the tip of her lit wand around the corner.

One blink of light. That was how long she had before the demon exploded with a roar.

Ashmedai smashed his massive shadowy body into the roof of the cave. Amity screame. The ground shook around her, sending her to her knees. Her wand flew out of her hand into the demon’s cavern. “No!” Amity gasped.

Her golem reacted as soon as the word was out of her mouth. Her rope snaked forward and grew a mouth, snatching the wand up and twisting in the air back toward Amity. She grabbed her wand. But Ashmedai roared again, and its breath was a black hole.

Amity was sucked toward it.

She screamed again. Her golem spread, spiderwebbed into a net, and tried to stick on any surface it could. It caught a boulder, it caught the half-collapsed entrance.

“Little witch!” boomed Ashmedai’s voice, and then the demon cackled. “Good morning!”

The books were wrong. Ashmedai wasn’t monstrous– he was catastrophic. There was nothing like him on the Boiling Isles, nothing like him in Amity’s imagination, where she’d grown her own monsters and treated them as friends. This was fighting a black hole. What was she supposed to do?

A piece of her net snapped and she lurched closer. She yelped and she clung on.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t even see. She couldn't– wait, her wand!

Amity waved her wand frantically in Ashmedai’s direction, trying to will the light to burn brighter, and there! There on his tongue– a fluttering paper, no bigger than a sticky note. It might as well have been a goddamn stamp. The stupid Solomon’s seal!

Then it didn’t matter anymore, did it, how big Ashmedai was? She had to try. Odalia’s face jumped into her mind. She had to, she had to–

Amity shoved her wand in between her teeth and clamped down tight.

Her net unbraided itself back into a long and flexible rope and Amity slid down its length. Holding onto one end, the demon’s gaping mouth sucked her closer, along with everything it could get its putrid grey tongue on. Rocks, dust, moss. His breath blasted her in the face. She was so close now, she could see the bubble of saliva–

Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out!

Her hand slipped on her rope. She fisted it tighter, then grabbed Sugar from her pocket. And with a toss, Amity let her abomination go.

Sugar filled with life, writhing in the air. Go, Amity urged in her mind as she was lashed back and forth, still clinging to her rope. Please, get it–

Sugar landed on the surface of the monster’s tongue and grabbed onto the tiny slip in his mouth. But the seal didn’t budge. Amity could barely see it. She grabbed her wand from in between her teeth to wave it that direction, but the monster only roared in response, once again smashing its head into the ceiling. Amity waved her wand again, saw her abomination frantically tugging.

She was so tiny.

Amity had painstakingly crafted each one of those delicate fingers from clay gathered from her own backyard. She knew their exact length and width. And she knew that she hadn’t made Sugar to do things like this.

Sugar would slip, and then she’d get sucked in, and she’d die.

“No, no, please, Sugar–”

Maybe if she split her golem into two ropes, she could get Sugar back. Amity shoved her wand back between her teeth. Her golem moved with her mind. It thinned and split into two tendrils. Amity grunted as she slipped again, but the golem wrapped tightly around her wrist. She grabbed the second tendril with her other hand and pulled it free like long, stretchy taffy.

She lashed it toward Ashmedai’s mouth. Not long enough! She was running out of golem. She tried again as the wind made her flail wildly through the air. A little closer–

Ashmedai cackled and shut his mouth.

As soon as he did, the terrible wind stopped. Amity fell through the air with a scream, hitting the rocky cave floor as her golem puddled around her. There was a crunch. Pain shot up Amity’s arm, and she moaned as Ashmedai’s thunderous chuckle shook the walls.

“What a delicious snack you brought me. What did you call it again, little witch? Sugar?”

Her hearts were thudding with two different beats. One in her arm. The other outside her self, deep within the belly of that black hole. Sugar, Sugar. With her good arm, Amity felt around the dirt until the familiar wood of her wand met the palm of her hand. Sugar, Sugar.

“What will you taste like?”

And Ashmedai opened his mouth.

The wind rushed through the cave. Amity had no time. Her golem reacted first. It engulfed her like another mouth, shrouding her in a dark, tight circle. Ashmedai’s breath peeled it from the ground and Amity spun through the air. And then– smack! There was a wet squelch as the golem hit Ashmedai’s tongue. Amity was closer to the seal than ever before, but right now, she could only think of little, defenseless Sugar, and how Amity had been the one to toss her away.

She wanted to make Ashmedai hurt.

Amity, shivering inside, touched her broken arm and imagined the sharp fragments of her own broken bone pushing through the skin. Her golem shield exploded into spikes and Ashmedai screamed, spitting Amity out of his mouth, out of his cave.

Amity went soaring again– spinning through the air, holding her breath, squeezing her eyes shut against her own golem’s impenetrable dark. When she made impact with a wall, she let go of that breath, terrified the shield would break. It didn’t. Not yet. She felt it cracking though, pieces of its spikes chipping off, as her own bone chipped under her skin. Ashmedai moaned behind her, somewhere behind her– she had to get out of here.

Sugar. Her little abomination came back to her at that moment. Amity sobbed one last time. She had let it eat Sugar.

The golem melted around her. Shivering, shaking, she got onto her feet and she ran back down the dark tunnel before Ashmedai could attack a third time.

“Where are you going?! Hecate! Hecate, come on! Wait!”

“I don’t remember inviting you,” says Hecate, and she can’t look back. If she looks back, that’s when she opens herself up to potential injury. That’s what Azura brings with her– a smile like a sword, laughter like gunfire. Azura laughs, and Hecate hurts. Azura shines, and Hecate hurts.

But Azura is always right behind her.

“Why won’t you let me come with you? Why are you so stubborn?” Azura rants on. “Are you scared, huh? Is that it, huh? Scared I’m going to be better than you one day?”

Hecate keeps climbing up the hill, silent as the grave. But the answer is yes. She’s scared of everything.

From Glass Diamonds, Chapter 2, by teenageabomination128

#its the way i was going to release this three diff times and never got my perfectionist ass into gear to finish it the way i wanted #but we LOVE a deadline does wonders for the creative spirit lmfao #story #one shot #feel sick and upset u ever write something and wanna take it back lol

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superspookywombat · 4 years

Text

falling {j.h} chapter ten

Warnings: very descriptive injury, I don’t want to specify because of spoilers, so if you’d like to know more details then you can message me :)

Taglist: @Sleepy-whore @geekysimmerthings @mauvette268 @treestarrrrrrrr @kaleigh404 @krazykatkay456 @meganlikesfandoms @darknacademia @hi-my-name-is-riley @vdtwsupernatural @selmeuuh @raindancer2004 @wondersandtempests @royale-trash-slytherin @im-hella-bright @bootylimpics @livfg @It-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @peacemusicinch @coffeeslut16 @bvbwestfall @Actuallyedythecullen @stan-joonies @Peacebuglove @Millie-753 @Frozenhuntress67 @i-tried21 @seaevans @femflorals @arseofrivia @trashysara @vulgarfuckinvirgo @sleepysnapesnake @hey-bulldogs @mental-breaker-74 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @duty-isnt-always-honour @jelly-fishy-babie @carnagefuck @clubpengiunn @wondersandtempests @100-percent-loving @fandomsandmore394 @pomiotszatana @cherrybuck @alohorcruxes @harryskillerqueen @left-in-the-woods @galaxypox @what-if-im-the-bad-guy @daughterofanarchy997 @camillapad @babieboth @thequeerishere555 @your-average-wallflower @anxiety-station @xo-sophiemae-xo @rachthestressedbandobsessed @amordesiempre01 @avalon68 @imaginebeinlovedbyme @vampiregirl1797 @scuzmunkie @maelleoute @popwhitlockanddrop @aliinova

A/N: okay so while writing this my heart was beating so fast. there were parts where I literally had to step away from my computer and take a breather. anyway, hope you enjoy!

“Oh, wow.” You say as you inspect the ring in the tiny box that Bella holds in front of you. Moonlight reflects off the tiny diamonds on the clunky jewelry, and you mentally grimace at how uncomfortable it has to be to wear.

“You don’t like it.” Bella sighs. You quickly shake your head no, then take the ring and rotate it around in your fingers to appear more interested.

“No! No, I think it’s beautiful, it has so much.. Character.” You say, plastering on an even bigger smile than before. “I’m just thinking that it’s gonna be hard to hide from Charlie; that’s all.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m planning on telling him soon.” She says. You glance at Edward, who’s leaning against the wall of the house, blanketed by the darkness of the night. He watches you and Bella carefully, as if she’s going to disappear any second. “So, um, I’m going camping this weekend with Edward’s family.”

“Oh, I thought we we’re going to go up to Seattle this weekend..” You say, your smile deflating.

“I know I said I could, but I forgot I already made plans with Edward. Sorry.” Bella frowns, slipping the ring back into the box. You nod, staring down at your shoes.

“Your whole family is going?” You ask, glancing up at Edward. If you couldn’t hang out with Bella, maybe Jasper was free.

“Yes, Carlisle likes to take us camping whenever the weather is nice.” He answers, his face blank. You mutter a soft ‘oh’, then return your gaze to your feet.

“We should probably get going, Bella. Before Charlie wakes up and realizes that we’re not there.” You say. She looks taken aback by your sudden want to leave, but she stands up nonetheless. Edward goes inside to retrieve his keys, while you and Bella walk down the path to his Volvo. You lean against the SUV and stare at the stars while Bella fiddles with her sweatshirt zipper.

“Look, I’m sorry for ditching you this weekend, but I need you to trust me.” She says, her tone serious. Your eyebrows furrow, and you glance at her to see her foot nervously tapping against the pine needle-littered path.

“What aren’t you telling me, Bella?” You ask, your heart suddenly picking up it’s pace. She tucks her hair behind her ear and glances at the house, where Edward is closing the front door behind him.

“I- I can’t tell you. But I need you to trust me and stay with Charlie. And do not leave the house.” She says.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Your voice quivers as you ask. Edward stops in front of the car, unlocking it. Bella looks at him and bites her lip, then she looks back at you.

“Just trust me, okay?” She asks, then gets in the car, shutting the door and ending the conversation. Your blood freezes as you get anxious. What is Bella getting herself into?

----------

Before Bella left, she took her sleeping bag and the tent from the attic that hadn’t been used in a long while. A pit hung in the bottom of your stomach as she climbed into Edward’s car, but she assured you before she got in that everything was okay and that there was nothing to be worried about. Her apology didn’t ease your nausea however, nor the anxious thoughts that ran through your head. Currently, you sat on the couch, the morning after she left, an old and familiar blanket pulled tight around your shoulders, as if it would deflect your negative thoughts.

The wind outside howled past the window, and you shuddered as the weatherman on TV explained that a chill would make its way into Forks tonight. Glancing at the clock, it told you that it was a little past noon. You threw the blanket off of your shoulders, standing up and deciding to make some macaroni and cheese for lunch.

As you were draining the boiling water from the noodles, the phone rang. You flinch, jumpier than usual, and set down the pot. Reaching the phone, you pick it up and hold it to your ear.

“Hey, kiddo. Billy just called and invited us over for burgers and the game. I’m leaving work early today, so leave soon to meet me down there.” Charlie says.

“Uh.. okay, sure. I’ll leave in five.” You say, confusion taking over your mind. You murmur a goodbye, then hang up the phone and go upstairs to change. Pulling your shirt off, you get the weirdest feeling that someone is watching you.

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

Deep in the mountains, a fight rages on between Victoria’s army and the Cullens. As Victoria corners Edward and Bella, she looks between the two and cackles.

“Interesting. If you’re here protecting Bella, I wonder who’s home protecting Y/n..” She says, her eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

“No! You need me, not her!” Bella yells, her mind clouded with frustration and worry. The redhead sighs dramatically, her stride flanked by Riley.

“Of course I don’t need her. But she’ll be just for fun. It’ll give me an excuse to rip the blond one to shreds when he comes after me.” She says, referring to Jasper as she nonchalantly picks at her nails. Edward crouches into an offensive position while Bella’s eyes widen and her hand places itself on her agape mouth.

“No..” Bella cries. The wolf lurking in the woods, ready to strike, overhears the conversation and sends a message to the others.

Miles away in a clearing, Jacob relays the message to Carlisle, who tells Jasper. Before he even hears the words fall from Carlisle’s mouth, Jasper feels his overwhelming grief.

“Go. We’ll be fine without you. Go to her!” Esme urges him, and he takes off running. When he reaches his motorcycle that he drove to the clearing, he kicks it started and races down the backroads, the bike’s speedometer topping out at 125 MPH.

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

A breeze makes you shiver, but the realization that you shut and locked your windows after Bella left makes you freeze. You glance up into the small mirror that rests on your dresser to see a dark figure standing behind you. Screaming, you grab the first thing in arms reach- a lamp- and grip it so tight that your knuckles turn white. You whirl around and raise your arm, ready to strike, but the figure moves impossibly fast and slams it’s foot into your stomach, sending you crashing into the wall. Intense pain in your chest makes you groan. As the figure comes into light, you see that he has bright red eyes. You try to scream again, but the pressure in your chest restricts you from taking the breath to do so. You cough, and blood dribbles down your chin.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Y/n Swan..” He mutters, licking his lips as he trails his eyes down your body.

“Who.. Who are you?” You ask weakly. He rolls his eyes, crouching down to meet you eye to eye.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. You’ll be dead before you even have the chance to repeat my name.” He whispers harshly. His hand flies to your throat, lifting you up so that you’re suspended in the air. His hand tightens, making you instinctively reach up and claw at it with your nails. Your attempt is futile, as his skin is so hard that your fingernails snap off, leaving your fingers as bloody nubs. Your eyes widen as he presses down harder, your mouth falling open as you gasp for air. You can hear your heartbeat in an ear-deafening thrum, and your head feels like it’s exploding as you try to scream out. No noise comes out, though- if anything, just a squeak. The guy pulls you close to him, pressing his nose to your neck as he inhales deeply. “Such a shame I can’t take a drink. Victoria said we can’t leave anything to chance. You smell absolutely heavenly, and I can hear your blood pumping- screaming out for someone to sink their teeth in and suck you dry.”

“Well, maybe one taste wouldn’t hurt..” He smiles, his lips pulling back to reveal two sharpened teeth. The sight gives you a second wind, struggling against his grasp even harder. He doesn’t seem affected in the slightest, sliding his hands down lower on your neck for a moment before brushing your hair out of the way to give him access to your bruising neck. Closing your eyes and preparing yourself for the pain to come, a thump behind your assailant startles you and him. He flinches, momentarily clenching the hand around your throat. A crunch is heard as a squeak escapes your lips, and then you’re dropped to the floor, unable to breath. You reach your hands to your throat as blood pumps from the wound that your crushed trachea caused. You gurgle as you drown on your own blood, your vision dotting and the overwhelming need to close your eyes taking over as you see Jasper lunge.

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

Jumping off his bike, Jasper doesn’t bother to flip down the kickstand as he runs and jumps through the window into your room. At the sound of his entrance, a black haired vampire looks over and snarls at him. Jasper sees red at the sight of the vampire’s hand gripped around your throat, and once he sees him drop you he lunges. Tackling the guy to the ground, he wrestles with him until he has the access to reach his neck. Planting a foot on the guy’s shoulder, Jasper twists his neck until a crisp snap bounces off the walls and the vampire goes grey and limp. Jasper stares down at the body, never having felt this much fury coursing through his veins. The sound of gurgling snaps him out of his blind rage, and his eyes widen at the sight of you laying on the floor, your hands attempting to stop the bleeding from your neck. Blood fills his nostrils and his throat burns as he longs to drink your sweet smelling blood. He kneels over you as your hands go limp and you fall unconscious. He knows that your time is coming to an end, and it’s coming fast. His eyes burn with the need to cry, though he knows he can’t; and his throat burns with the need to drink your blood that sits there, seemingly staring back at him. He clenches his jaw as he thinks back to how you make him feel like he’s alive again. How you smile at him and how whenever you’re around him he’s overwhelmed with total adoration. How he doesn’t want to exist without you. How he loves you more than anything he’s ever loved before, and how desperately he needs you. And so he pulls your limp body to his chest and buries his face into your neck, sinking his teeth into your delicate skin and letting the venom seep into your veins.

#jasper hale #jasperhale #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight x reader #Bella Swan #bellaswan #edward cullen #edwardcullen #fanfiction #fanfic #charlie swan #chapter 10 #carlisle cullen #esme cullen

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tangledinmdzs · 3 years

Note

Hi there! Happy new year!! Hope you are doing well!! Can you do "It looks like we are going to be late again" for the junior quartet with their s/o? Just love those little guys so much xD (It can be in the canon au or in a modern au). Thank you so much! Your blog makes my day :)

hi hi! why of course; thank you so much for your compliment~

this is to your request!

»»————-　♡　————-««

“it looks like we’re going to be late again” in a modern au

｡･ﾟﾟ･　 Lan Sizhui　･ﾟﾟ･｡

Sizhui bites his lip as he swerves his controller

but he’d been right in his prediction

you groan as you both come into second place for the third time in a row

and it kind of hurts your pride a lot more than normally because you both lost against a computer

“maybe i should have timed that better” you comment, when you remember that your drift kind of made your team cart lag

Sizhui just shakes his head leans back into the seat as you begin fiddling around in your pouch

“do you want to go try another game?” Sizhui asks

he gets his answer by the gentle click of the arcade token dropping into the machine, and the starting music kicking up again as you level your hands on the controller

you turn to him, waiting for him to hold his own controller

“how many coins do we have left?” Sizhui asks you with a laugh, because you’ve been at this game for more than 20 minutes

“i’m not leaving until i win” you say determinedly

Sizhui smiles at your winning spirit

with your eyes on the screen he leans over to give you a kiss on the cheek for good luck before handling his own controller

he’ll give you gold this time, for sure

｡･ﾟﾟ･　Lan Jingyi　･ﾟﾟ･｡

Lan Jingyi knows that the boys aren’t going to let him off for being late again this time

because it only happens

when he’s meeting them

after spending time with you

“it can’t be helped, you’re supposed to spend more time with you significant other,” you tease and watch Jingyi’s ears turn red

you have this thing for calling yourself the weirdest nicknames

like “lover”

or “honey comb”

and worse yet,

“i also like spending time with my cuddle bear,” you say happily and you laugh loudly as he physically cringes

“please don’t call me that when we meet up with everybody” Jingyi asks, but you just shake your head

“nope! where’s the fun in that?” you say and pull him along to meet up with his friends

and even though he tries to make you both later than you already are,

well it can’t delay the inevitable

and for all of his grumbling and rumbling

he does quite like it well you call him all those cute, cringey nicknames

he just doesn’t want to admit it

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

｡･ﾟﾟ･　Jin Ling　･ﾟﾟ･｡

Jin Ling, would have sighed this to himself

because you always take so long to get ready

and this wouldn’t normally be a problem

if you just got ready earlier to give yourself more time

that would make the most sense

but you don’t

so as always, you both are running late

luckily he knows you well enough by now to book the reservation at the restaurant with extra time to allot for your “beauty time”

“y/n! we have at reservation at 7, it’s already 6:40!”

and also he’s learned to give you fake reservation times (a whole hour difference) so that you guys can get a move on

(ꐦ ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

“alright! almost done!” you say as you rush out of the bathroom

yet you still haven’t changed yet

“you still haven’t changed yet??” Jin Ling asks you in disbelief, when he sees your prettily done make up but pajama bottoms and shirt still on

you just give him a peace sign and slam your bedroom door shut to change

Jin Ling sighs, leaning back into the couch

he checks his wrist watch

maybe they’ll actually be late at this rate

｡･ﾟﾟ･　Ouyang Zizhen　･ﾟﾟ･｡

you stutter this excuse out as Zizhen leans deeper into your space

even though you guys are together now

his strong affections for you

sometimes makes you shy

like now

when he’s leaned so closely into you that your head hits the back of the wall with a pretty hard thud

which obviously breaks the moment when you wince

you’re surprised that Zizhen takes it in such a stride, only laughing gently at you before bringing a hand to come up and cover the back of your head

he rubs your hair there, the hot tension between you both before ebbing away and replaced instead by his care for you

“sorry,” he apologizes, but from the look on his face he looks more amused than sorry

“hmph” you pout at him, your own hand coming up to rub at the place on your head that you’ve hit against the wall

Zizhen laughs again at your face

and because his hand is already at the back of your head, he pushes you into his chest

you land there perfectly, your head at just the exact place for him to look down and place a kiss for your injury

“did that help?” Zizhen asks

Zizhen thinks it does, if the way you’re hiding in his chest is anything to go by.

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brightbeautifulthings · 4 years

Text

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

"'What if sometimes there is no choice about what to love? What if the temple comes to Mohammed? What if you just love? without deciding? You just do: you see her and in that instant are lost to sober account-keeping and cannot choose but to love?'"

Year Read: 2014, 2020

Rating: 5/5

Context: It's hard to know where to begin writing a review for this book. I read it for the first time in graduate school in about five weeks (alongside everything else I had to do in grad school, so I don't recommend that), and it basically blew my mind. At the same time, it's hard to imagine tackling it any other way for the first time. Despite its difficulty, there are things obsessive and immersive and, appropriately, even addictive about it. Full immersion might be the only way to read it for the first time, and I obsessed about it for months afterward. Since I'm not on any deadlines, I took it more slowly this time (21 weeks) so I could enjoy the writing and the nuances without the pressure to finish. For my less coherent weekly updates in real time, see my blog posts. Trigger warnings: Everything, everything. Death (on-page), child death, animal death, suicide, suicidal ideation, rape, pedophilia, possible incest, child abuse/abusive households, graphic violence/gore, eye horror, severe injury, drug use, addiction, alcoholism, mental illness, depression, OCD, grief, racism, ableism, transphobia, sexism, inexplicable hostility toward Canadians.

About: If it's difficult to know how to write a review, it's equally hard to describe what Infinite Jest is about. It's about so many things, tennis, addiction, communication (failures), and entertainment among them, but I'll do my best. Beneath all the numerous characters, timelines, and subplots, the main plot is about a film so entertaining that it kills anyone who watches it, robs them of all desire to do anything but watch it until they die, and what a faction of Canadian assassins will do to possess it. The auteur is James Incandenza, a suicide whose son, Hal, is a prodigy at Enfield Tennis Academy. Next door to E.T.A. is Ennet House, a drug rehabilitation center where Don Gately, former thief and Demerol addict, is taking it day by day to stay sober. Though they don't know it, Hal and Gately are connected, and the deadly Entertainment and those who seek it draw their paths closer and closer together.

Thoughts: It's rare to find a book that is actually as smart as it claims to be, but IJ is--certainly much smarter than I am, despite all my attempts to make sense of it. It starts off strong and doesn't let up for several hundred pages, which is a huge achievement all by itself. Wallace excels at writing extremely polished sections that could almost function alone as short stories, and the first chapter is one of my favorites in all fiction. It's reassuring, I think, to start the book off on a strong note, in case we worried we were in for a thousand pages of tedious slog. It can be both, but it's often heartfelt, insightful, and funny as well, and the payoff is well worth the effort. I don’t know how Wallace manages to pack every page with so much meaning. Anybody can put tedious lists in their books or make reading purposely difficult (and I have attitude about writers who do this for no reason), but there’s nothing haphazard about this book, despite its size and varied focus. Everything seems utterly intentional. The conversations are really top-tier; Wallace has a great ear for how people talk, and it's a fascinating look at how communication works and doesn't work.

Thematically, I think the book succeeds on more than any other level, including plot or structure. If we could say this book is "about" anything, we would almost certainly start with the themes and not the plot, which is often secondary to whatever point Wallace is trying to make at the moment. It takes an in-depth looks at things like addiction, depression, loneliness, failed communication, sincerity v. irony, critiques of postmodernism and metafiction (while being very meta itself, at times), and the very specific selfishness of an American culture that insists on freedom even to the point of self-destruction. At times, it feels a little heavy-handed or like it was yanked right out of an intro to philosophy course, but I suppose something in a thousand pages has to be obvious if we're ever going to pick up on it. A lot of these themes resurface in his other work, from "This is Water" and "E Unibus Pluram" to Orin Incandenza's Brief Interview style Q and A (and he would be a perfectly fitting character in that book).

The characters are some of my favorites in literary fiction as well, particularly the Incandenza family and Don Gately, and to a lesser extent Joelle Van Dyne (although Wallace typically doesn’t write female characters very well, and she comes with some issues). Hal and Gately couldn't be more different; Hal excels at everything he's ever done, and Gately has a record that includes accidental homicide on it. Hal is the hero of non-action, since little that happens in the book is engineered by him, while Gately is closer to the more typical hero of action, who defends the undeserving at great cost to himself. Yet their struggles with addiction are similar, and they both manage to be incredibly sympathetic characters. In my opinion, the book is always at its best when we’re with Hal or Gately, but I’m strongly driven by good characters. Despite being dead, James Incandenza's presence is also felt all over the book, from the Entertainment he created to his haunting ETA and sticking beds to the ceiling (probably the weirdest ghost I've ever seen in fiction). He's a tragic character in a book full of tragic characters. The others are too numerous to name, from the other tennis players at ETA and recovering addicts at Enfield, to the various bystanders populating Boston. We get brief glimpses into almost all of them, and while they may not all feel relevant at the time, most are memorable or heart-wrenching or slapstick funny, or all three. It's a book that contains multitudes.

That's not to say it's always on point though, and it isn't. There are a number of very serious problems with representation in this novel, and they're as bad as its detractors claim. A lot of the 90s humor aged very poorly, but that's not an excuse for some of the unabashedly racist depictions of African Americans, the uncharitable descriptions of Steeply's and Poor Tony's cross-dressing, or--however much I love him as a character--the fact that Mario Incandenza’s descriptions are ableist in just about every possible way. Wallace thinks he's capturing "voice" when he's really encouraging harmful stereotypes. The humor of the novel often doesn’t depend at all on these stereotypes and would in fact, be a lot more funny if I wasn’t spending so much energy cringing at it. So many of the little racist and ableist asides could have easily been edited out of the entire novel to make it less offensive. There are also sections where he seems at pains to be as gross as possible for its own sake. There are plenty of things grim or uncomfortable or flat out distasteful about this book, but sometimes the graphic violence kind of jumps out and stabs you in the eye, say, with a railroad spike.

If there are times when I was totally absorbed in the little tragedies of the Incandenza family or Gately's struggles, there are plenty more where it's like pushing something heavy up a hill. No lie, some of it is slogging through tedious minutiae and various experimental writing styles (some more successful and less offensive than others). Wallace has a gift for purposeful tedium; it’s at its peak in The Pale King, but he gives it a nice warm-up round here. The novel is difficult and meant to be, since Wallace maintained that some of the best pleasures are the ones we have to work for, and he's not totally off base. There's something very satisfying about living, for a time, in a book that spans a thousand pages, that demands focus and perseverance, and manages to give back (almost) as much as it takes. The book is always structurally interesting, but it starts to get more complicated toward the end as various characters and plots begin to almost slide into one another. I forgot how frustrating it was to near the end and realize--again--that it wasn't going to wrap up with any kind of satisfaction; the various plots slide, but they don’t meet. I thought if I paid closer attention on a second read that I would pick up more of the plot things I’d missed on my first, but I think the problem is that those answers simply aren’t to be found in the actual text. Of course, they can point us toward various conclusions, and the novel certainly encourages us to speculate and make connections, but I don’t think the actual answers are there.

That brings me to some of my final thoughts, for now. There's no doubt that this is a hugely successful book, and I believe it accomplished exactly what Wallace meant it to do. He jokingly referred to it as a failed entertainment, much the way Jim considered his lethal Entertainment a failure, but I have the sense that Wallace, unlike Jim, failed on purpose. The book purposely pays more attention to structure and theme than it does to plot or character, yet the plot and characters are hugely compelling for what we see of them. Imagine the book it could have been if he had paid equal attention to all of them. Wallace attempted to create a book that people wouldn't want to stop reading. Reaching the end certainly encourages us to begin again, as the first chapter is actually the last in chronology, but that trick only works the first time. By my second read, I realized that starting over wouldn't help me fill in any of those blanks or answer any of my questions, and I was content to let it go. On the one hand, IJ depends upon its structure to tell the story it's telling. On the other, think of the book it could have been if it spent more time telling a story and developing its characters and less time belaboring a point. It's one of the best books I've ever read, and the tragedy is that I think it could have been even better.

#book review #infinite jest #david foster wallace #literary fiction #adult fiction #5/5 #rating: 5/5 #2020 #bookoween

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