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m1d-45 · 9 months

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second chances

summary: baizhu knows he isn’t your favorite, but he still finds himself hoping for the impossible. maybe, with enough prayer, he’ll get it.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: major spoilers for baizhu story quest + lore + liyue archon quest, based on me and my experience (vaguely disliked baizhu at first due to partial information, immediately changed my mind w his quest and now adores him, doesn’t have kirara)

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (they/them)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

baizhu knows he isn’t the most favored.

from the first moment the traveller set foot in his office, he knew. he wasn’t met with anything special, no big flair from his god when you first saw him. it was to be expected, with how much time he spent praying—could gods have regulars?

it was simple. a quick ‘oh, the snake talks?’ thrown his way, a comment or two about his choice of outfit or the jade pendant hanging off his vision, and that was that. mostly, you seemed preoccupied with qiqi and the funeral parlor’s consultant, something to be expected. he was a quick stop on your journey, a note in the margins about the doctor you met at the pharmacy. it made sense, of course, that you’d be occupied with the death of rex lapis during the failed rite of descension, and the return of osial and beisht surely took priority over him. he offered little, only a dialogue or two actually shared between him and the traveller when you were present. he’d gathered as much of his energy, saved it for your arrival to make a good impression, so… it made sense you’d fret over qiqi, constantly forgetful as she was.

it made sense. he’d… made his peace. he had more to worry about, surely, what with orders to fulfill and his own condition to manage. maybe not more important—never, not maybe, what was he thinking?—but certainly more.

when your attention on qiqi flared, spurred by some unknown whim, he delighted a bit in being close to her, even if your thoughts on him weren’t entirely positive.

it was fair. you liked qiqi, and were concerned. it made sense you didn’t know every detail of teyvat, and since he’s never had the chance to come to you and spell out his story directly, it made sense you’d make some assumptions.

“i guess that makes sense, but still… qiqi deserves better.”

she probably did, in truth, but hearing it from you…

he’s had his vision for years by this point. he’s hd it for as long as he’d had changsheng, to be exact, and she was always able to remind him of exactly how long that had been.

“ssseven yearsss, four monthsss, thirteen daysss, and counting…”

“ah… thank you, changsheng.”

he knew he wasn’t special. out of the thousands of vision wielders across teyvat, only a handful have started having their constellations appear in the sky. just under a hundred, by his approximation, but he tried not to count. if he sought out the proper numbers, tried to pin down a percentage of those with a vision that had a chance to hold their god’s attention, then he’d start trying to find patterns. he was a doctor, patterns and rhythms were his literal job, but he knew that wouldn’t end well.

(a librarian, an alchemist, a lawyer: did you perhaps favor more studious types? a bartender, an exorcist, a detective: or those with a drive in their lives? a nobody, a traveller, a wandering samurai: or those seeking one out for themselves?)

there wasn’t a pattern. it was random. and part of him hated it.

baizhu had had his vision for seven years, eight months, and thirteen (was it fourteen? the sky was growing dark) days, and had never once seen his stars in the sky.

he had one. he had a constellation, something he knew was rare among vision wielders, but it didn’t guarantee him a spot in the sky any time soon. kirara had hers long before she had her chance in the heavens—they’d spoken about that, both hesitant to show the other their divine gift, but willing to speak of its existence.

and now kirara’s turn had passed. though her vision didn’t shine any brighter, he could see the pride in her smile when she dropped off another delivery at the pharmacy. sign here, check these, make sure this is what you ordered, goodbye have a good day, pretend like yours doesn’t weigh more after seeing hers.

it wasn’t as if he was unremarkable. a perfectly healthy man who had thrown himself into illness to find the cure for all of them? surely that was interesting, wasn’t it? but it wasn’t his time, he was being impatient, slipping back to the same mindset he condemned his patients for.

“patience. medicine doesn’t work in an instant, and you’ll need to be taking this for the next week at minimum.”

“but it’s so bitter!”

“then tell me, what tastes worse: bile, or this pill? if you want to stop being sick, you need to take it.”

patience.

qiqi was blessed with a place in the stars near instantly after she’d gotten her vision, but she was not the norm. perhaps his expectations were weighted, then? or maybe you disliked his work entirely? he didn’t like entertaining what ifs, but when various aches kept him up, there was little else he could do while he waited for his medication to take effect. patience, he tried to remind himself, counting his breaths. be patient. wait, be calm, don’t agitate yourself. count in, count out, are your breaths getting shorter? just stay calm, be patient…

the first time he saw you, he knew you were coming. he’d saved as much energy as he could, doing his best to make a good impression. but now, with changsheng nudging him awake urgently, pushing him into his shoes and putting his glasses on for him, the first thing he’d expected was the millelith, maybe, or perhaps the ministry of civil affairs. maybe he was needed urgently, maybe something had happened to qiqi, maybe he was late for his medication and he’d get terrible headaches if he wasn’t quick- oh, but then why would she bother to coil around his shoulders?

and yet, out of all those possibilities, none were correct.

“hey! who’s talking about me behind my back?”

“changsheng, qiqi meant that as a compliment. there’s no need to be upset.”

it had been so long since he’d felt your light, far longer since he’d been properly healthy. he’d forgotten how it felt to walk without the dull ache in his joints, and yet here he was. standing by gui and a familiar looking child, speaking with your traveller. it was easy to say words he didn’t choose, his throat not getting dry despite the lack of his morning tea.

the quest was long, and by the end he should have been exhausted. between taking on jialiang’s sickness to turning him into a zombie, he should have been out of commission for the next few days. as it was he had a nasty cough, his breath coming shorter than typical… but that was it. he took his regular medication at the dinner with your traveller, the linger of your aura on them still seeming to dull his pains. how curious, that you could cure ailments even he couldn’t name anymore…

“baizhu, are you alright?” idly, he wondered if the traveller noticed the change in their voice when they were speaking for you. it always sounded a bit lighter, a bit of your emotions bleeding through… a pity he’d never know why. “today must have been taxing for you…”

all eyes were on him now, even qiqi’s. “i’m doing fine,” he said simply, taking another sip of his tea. “better than normal, if anything, which i have to owe to our guest.”

paimon still seemed nervous. “but what about when we leave? what if everything hits you all at once? normally you stay at the pharmacy, and using your power so much…”

a fair assessment. while he was no stranger to combat, to be thrown in the middle of a pack of such vicious hilichurls was a shock. still, he had made it through—even if, privately, he doubted it would have been so clean without you there. “i will be fine. even if my condition declines, i am well equipped to handle flare ups.”

it seemed the whole group was hesitant to let him go. changsheng insisted he stay up until three hours had past since the traveller left, when his limbs again felt heavy and his head began to hurt. something odd was stirring in his chest, and he was eager to get to bed before it sparked into anything more. it was reasonable, he knew, but there were only so many prescriptions to prepare before he had nothing left to do. gui had long since went to bed, leaving just him in the lobby of the pharmacy, quietly double checking his stock of herbs.

eventually, he stood from his seat, returning the sweet flowers to their proper place. he held up an hand to let changsheng climb up his arm, closing up the pharmacy. she curled around his shoulders twice, a familiar weight. the night was cool, a slight breeze bumping the chain of his glasses against his cheek. it had been a long few days, and he was happy that everything was settled. he’d done all he could for jialiang, and he and his family hopefully wouldn’t be coming back for quite some time. back to routine…

“…baizhu?”

he checked the lock with a quick tug, “yes? what is it?”

“the ssstarsss… they’re due, aren’t they?”

ah. the cycles of constellations, switching through the sky. if he thought about it.. yes, they were, weren’t they?

“by my memory, they are. why?”

her head was turned, looking off to the part of the sky not obscured by the roof of the pharmacy.

“…changsheng-“

“look.”

“it’s late.” his heart began to pick up, false hopes being raised. patience, he chided himself, but what follower did not wish for acknowledgment from their god? “we should go to sleep before we fall too far out of schedule.”

“baizhu! i know you have better sssenses than that.”

perhaps he did. his vision burned where it was clipped to his side, invisible vines creeping up toward his heart. “don’t be too hasty,” he said quietly, the words tasting as bitter as his pills.

don’t be too hasty. you could still be wrong. don’t get your hopes up. be patient.

one hand went to his hip, undoing the clasp of his vision, the other settling on the railing. a few clouds dotted the sky, but he lifted his vision anyway, searching for any stars tinted green.

everything happened at once. the terrace was replaced with an ocean of skies, the slight mumble of “i do have a guaranteed…” getting lost in the whirlwind around him. he was weightless, trapped in by an invisible box, only dimly aware of the fact that his pain had once again disappeared. he was floating, dressed in the attire he normally saved for formal events—dressed in what he’d put on when you’d first arrived—with no sight of the pharmacy below him. it was just him and changsheng, him and changsheng and the bright light that came from everywhere, lifting him from his unseen prison.

a laugh, a smile, a rush of power flooding through him, and when he next set foot in front of the pharmacy, he did so with a new gleam to his vision. he could hear a door open behind him—qiqi, if he had to guess, as why wouldn’t she be drawn to the power the adepti could only hope to imitate?—but couldn’t turn, breathless.

“welcome home, doc.. it’s good to see you.”

it had taken seven years, four months, and 25 days, but he was here. and it was more than he could have ever asked for.

709 notes · View notes

starwrighter · 3 months

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Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (previous)

(Chapter #5 Ya'll)

Just like he said he would, Damian walked Danny to his earth science classroom. Guiding him through labyrinth-like hallways with a firm grip on his sleeve. It’s as if he thought Danny would slip through his fingers and be swept away by the crowd of students. Embarrassingly enough, that’s an accurate assumption of both his luck and his situational awareness. If he dared to imagine the future, prison bars, sigils, and the outline of a body immediately came to mind.

Forever he’d be thanking the ancients for Damian expert skills in navigating. Without him, he’d probably be curled up at the bottom of a staircase by now. Or in a death cult keen on taking over the world. It might seem ridiculously pessimistic, but freaky escalations like that happened to him all the time! He’d gone from searching for a gift he’d accidentally knocked into the zone to staging a massive prison break! Needless to say, he appreciated the company.

“Since your map is half a century out-of-date; I’ll pick you up around lunchtime,” Damian declared, curtly waiting for his response.

”Sounds good,” Giving the other boy a small wave and a thankful smile Danny headed into the classroom.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he read the cheesy geology jokes scrawled onto the board. The jokes were stupid in a way only teachers or dads could make them. Puns that could do psychic damage if you dare read them aloud. It’s beautiful. Leagues above a certain English teacher who butchered slang so brutally the lingo died on the spot.

The typical classroom posters lined the walls. A clear bucket full of rocks just sitting on the teacher’s desk as she started taking attendance. He sat close to the front furthest from the door. His blindside faced the wall, nobody could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rang. Nobody could gawk pityingly at his face this way. Yeah, you could pry this spot from his cold dead hands.

It might seem extreme but people were…Weird when it came down to his disability. Some people treated him like he was utterly useless, incapable of doing anything on his own. They tried to “help” without bothering to ask about his condition or if he even needed help. It was so much worse the first few months after the accident. He was wheelchair-bound for that. -1/10 wouldn’t recommend.

He could say with certainty nobody wanted to be paralyzed. It’s jarring how differently treated him back then. They’d point out the obvious like he’s completely blind. Annoying, but understandable considering how gnarled his facial injuries were before they healed. It looked like somebody shot him in the face with a firework. The fact that he didn’t lose an eye was a medical miracle backed by new ghostly powers.

What wasn’t understandable was the complete lack of boundaries strangers had with him and his wheelchair. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for the first time someone grabbed his wheelchair and moved him. He thought it’d been a one-time thing but it happened again and again without fail. Somebody would move him out of the way or try to “Help” him get to where he’s going. Several times without so much of a “Hello! Do you need some help,” people he’d never spoken to would grab the handles of his chair and start pushing him.

It’s infuriatingly dehumanizing and their heartbroken faces when he called them out tugged at his heartstrings. So many times he’d guiltily stewed over his responses. Jazz killed that guilt without so much as a thought when she put things into perspective. Even though Jazz had a habit of psychoanalyzing him it felt good when she said his anger warranted.

Nothing would ever feel as good as taking those first shaky steps outside his wheelchair though. The wave of overwhelming emotion when a group of baffled doctors told him his paralysis wasn’t as permanent as they previously thought was unparalleled. He cried a lot that day. Tears of joy, he’s not ashamed to admit that.

Never in his life would he have thought he’d be grateful for Dash’s bullying. But after a full two months of extensive physical therapy and multiple surgeries, he now knew were unnecessary anyone treating him like they did before was a godsend. Dash believed in a twisted kind of equality when it came to bullying, he’d pick on anyone he deemed a loser. For him, it’d been verbal harassment, but regaining the ability to walk gave him confidence. He was extremely cocky, snapping back with sarcastic venom at every dig made at him.

Slowly but surely, people stopped babying him. It was harder to argue that someone was helpless when they were actively picking fights with the star football player. After all the shit he’d involved himself in people treated him like normal. Normal in the sense he was picked on for being a loser with crazy parents.

He’d take that kind of bullying over the underhanded insults drowned in infantilism. As the months passed it felt like everyone forgot about his accident. His classmates would get angry at him when he couldn’t keep up with them and go green with envy when he got extra time for his assignments. People acted like he was getting special treatment just for the sake of it.

Like full body electrocution was something he could just walk off. They didn’t understand how walking and running were easier than standing in place. He was accused of faking it whenever he stood up from his wheelchair. People were offended that he still considered his left side blind when he could still see light in his peripherals.

Everyone he talked to said he was lucky. Lucky to survive, lucky to walk again without aid, lucky to have all the sweet powers, lucky lucky lucky. He didn’t feel all that lucky when his joints locked or when reading gave him migraines so bad he questioned if being alive was worth it.

He knows it could be worse. Dear god does he know it could be so, so, much worse. He could be fully dead. Charred to a crisp without even a blast shadow as evidence of his death. He should’ve been paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Braindead, hooked up to a machine as his family mourned their loss. The consequences of walking into that portal chamber were so much lighter than anyone could’ve imagined. So he dealt with it.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn’t in Gotham directly after his accident. Slipping through solid objects around people 100x more fearful of their surroundings was a wonderful way to speedrun getting his spine shattered by a guy in a bat suit. Or trafficked. Danny winces as he scribbles on a sheet of lined paper.

Someone is staring at him. The boy beside him was shooting daggers into his very soul. Hadn’t even bothered to hide the way his face twisted in suspicion when Danny turned to look him in the eyes.

“You need something?” Danny probed, praying this was just him misreading facial expressions.

“What the hell happened to you?” The other boy whispered, his tone harsh and accusatory.

“A shocking experience,” His half-assed response earns him a sharp glare and a sneer.

“No really, what happened?”

“Got zapped,” He shrugs, hoping his classmate would take the hint and drop it.

“That’s not what I meant,” The other seethed. “How did you get electrocuted?”

”Electricity,”

“The fact you’re dodging my question makes you look more suspicious,”

“Not trauma dumping on a stranger makes me suspicious?”

“It’s Gotham! We don’t get transfer students outside major cities and we certainly don’t get ones willing to stay for months! What are you planning?” He hisses, voice cracking as he tried and failed to make it sound lower.

“Trust me, if I had a choice to stay home I would’ve,”

“I don’t think I do trust you,”

“That's not my problem,” Danny shrugged. This guy spoke with the delusional confidence only the stubbornest flat earther could rival. He’s not a gothamite by any means but wasn’t the key unspoken rule of the city “Mind your damn business unless you’re a bat,” It’s on par with Don’t dig straight down but this guy clearly hadn’t learned of the former.

“Why do you have fangs?”

”Genetics,” What kind of question was that? Plenty of people had fangs. It’s a common trait, almost every person in amity has it!

”I don’t believe you,”

Heh? What’s the point in asking if he wasn’t going to believe him when he answered? It reminded him of a certain annoyance back home.

“Why do you-“

”Leave me alone!” He snaps. It’s like his classmates doing his best impression of a toddler! “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Desperately trying to catch Danny in a lie and refusing to believe any response that wasn’t a confession of guilt. World's greatest detective over here, interrogating him for having the audacity to show up to Gotham with “Gasp!” Scars! Oh, the humanity! What a delinquent!

Ancients’ weren’t these prissy private schools supposed to be better than public schools? He walked to school today expecting to be murdered and or indoctrinated into a weird death cult not interrogated by Walmart Batman over here!

What was this guy expecting to drag out of him anyway? Blueprints for a deathray? A secret plot to break everyone out of Arkham? Secret rogue plans? He just got here today! What could he possibly be planning when his apartment didn’t even have toilet paper yet? They hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark and he already had a conspiracy theorist pestering him.

“Why are you-“ Copycat Wes starts.

”Leave him alone you fucking moron!” A female voice snaps behind them.

“ You don’t understand! He-,” Sputtering to defend himself the girl glowered at him.

“Has done nothing to warrant your harassment,” She finished the sentence for him.

”No! He’s up to something I swear! Just look at him,”

The girl looked him up and down, her hazel eyes shooting daggers into his soul. “He looks like he’s a strong breeze away from a heart attack,”

Ouch.

"There is something wrong with him, you're just too dim to see it," He spits.

“Listen here you toe-eyed spaz, I don’t want to have to deal with Lightning Rod over here frying people to death because you wouldn’t stop tormenting him!” She seethed, jabbing her finger into Offbrand’s chest.

“How do you know he’s not going to do that regardless?”

She turns her attention back to him. “Are you going to start doing rogue shit?” She speaks calmly as if she’s asking about the weather.

He pretends to ponder for a second, checking his phone for dramatic effect. “ Nah, My sister says I’m not allowed to be a criminal outside my hometown. It’ll affect her chances of getting into a good college,” To his surprise, that’s an acceptable response for her.

”See, he’s fine.”

“Did you not hear a word he said?” Copycat sputters. “He just admitted to being a criminal,”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” The boy is red in the face now.

”That’s not our problem,” She replied bluntly.

“How is it not our problem?”

“It just isn’t,”

“It clearly is “ He emphasizes.

“This is why you keep getting mugged,” She snaps. “You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, how have not learned how to mind your damn business,”

“I know how to mind my business. This is my business. You’re the one who butted in,”

“I’m a nosy bitch too. But I’m not the one who’s pretending to be Batman.” She’s smirking now, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

“I’m not pretending to be Batman,” He defends, hands clenched into fists. “I’m just doing my civic duty!”

“You’re delusional,”

“Well- at least I’m not a criminal,” Offbrand Wes sneered, whipping around to glare at him.

Oh great, he’s directly involved again.

“What a scathing remark, I’ll be sure to cry about it while I build my deathray,” Maybe he shouldn’t keep antagonizing. Offbrand looked about ready to strangle him.

“Now you’re pissing him off on purpose,” The girl behind them deadpans.

“ I am, thanks for noticing,” He’s giddy, a shit-eating grin on his face that would immediately get him shanked if he were outside right now.

Their conversation continues. The three of them whisper-yelling at each other. Offbrand Wes fumed at every one of Danny’s sarcastic responses, doubling down on his suspicions. With every absurd accusation thrown his way, the girl defended him. But if you listened in for more than a few seconds you could see she didn’t step to his defense for the sake of being nice. She just really hated this kid. Who could blame her?

The argument devolved into the two gothamites insulting each other in a way only rich kids could. Family names Danny barely recognized as important were thrown around like dodgeballs. Maybe if Danny kept up with celebrity drama he’d be able to tell who’s winning?

“Daniel Fenton? ” He almost jumps at the sudden interruption. He’d been so awestruck watching these two go at each other's throats that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching them. The teacher is staring down at him; he smiles politely. Better to garner goodwill now rather than later.

”I’d like to see you after class today,” Oh god, already? What had he done to peeve this teacher? Did she hear them arguing? Offbrand was grinning, vindicated as Danny stumbled over himself.

“Oh- uh, will it take long? A friend said he’d help me find my classes since my map is a little off.” He offered up the map as proof. A sacrifice in hopes of leniency for whatever crimes he’s about to be accused of.

The woman looked over the paper, her relaxed expression dropping with the growing confusion.

“Can I see your schedule?” Danny hands it over without a word. Slowly, she ran her fingers against the brail of his schedule. The slow shift in her stance as her face paled felt like it’d been ripped straight from the trailer of a horror movie. He’s heard a lot of crazy things in his life but nothing would ever shock him more than what his teacher said next.

“We’re going be sued into the fucking ground,” Her words were barely audible, whispered behind a closed fist. Danny’s stunned silence was a thousand times louder. Teachers could swear here?! Isn’t that illegal? He sits speechless for an agonizing minute, unsure if he’s in trouble.

Wordlessly, she drags him to the front of the classroom. It feels like he’s being walked to the gallows.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

”Yeah? I need to know my schedule,” Was wandering around clueless detention for Gotham schools? He hadn’t even done anything. Sure, he was a tad bit tardy this morning. That’s the plane's fault, not his!

“You don’t have a school iPad?” She sounds utterly exasperated.

“No,” He’s supposed to have a school iPad?

“Did they at least give you a proper school I.D.?”

”I hope so ” He shows her the plastic card he’d been given alongside his schedule. She scrutinized the card, glaring intently at every word. It’d taken hours to get a decent photo for that stupid card.

“There’s something wrong with it isn’t there?” Screwed over straight from the get-go. He’ll be haunting the front desk for the foreseeable future.

“No, no it’s fine,” She waves him off. “Leave the map with me and drop your schedule off at the front desk when you leave for the day okay?” He nods, that’s all he can do at the moment.

When the bell finally rang their teacher practically shooed his classmates out the door. Students clogged the doorway, a glob of tangled backpacks that slowly oozed into halls separating with miffed expressions. The tile floor couldn’t be more appealing as he waited for the bomb to drop. In a fancy school like this, the punishment for tardiness could be public execution. You never know.

The punishment for seeing the school guidance counselor had been public humiliation with a side of attempted murder. So capital punishment being carried out in schools wasn’t something he’d be surprised about. They’d better have a guillotine, he’s gotten pretty sick of the electric chair.

“Is your friend coming to get you?” The woman asks, still studying the map with a furrowed brow. She squinted at the paper holding out in front of her face like the distance would change the image.

“I think so, he dropped me off here,” Danny pauses, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

She shakes her head much to his relief “Somebody’s going to be in trouble but it certainly isn’t you,”

Patterned knocking at the classroom door draws his attention from the woman. Green eyes met blue as Damian quietly entered the room.

“That’s him!” Beaming, he turns back to the teacher. “Can I go now?” She nods wordlessly. With her approval, Danny doesn't hesitate for a second. He darts over to the other boy with a relieved grin on his face.

“How was class?” He asks as they step out of the classroom.

”Unnoteworthy,” Damian hummed.

”Same,” I mean, technically he did get into a fight. But it wasn’t exactly something to write home about. Blows hadn’t been exchanged and he wasn’t gut-punched with a month's worth of detention. Yet.

The walk to the lunch room is heavily crowded. The cafeteria echoed with the chattering of a sea of teenagers. Their navy blue uniform made clusters of students indistinguishable from one another. Sam would hate it here.

“Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate lunch here?”

“Ten. I bring my food from home,” Damian responds quickly pausing afterward as if he’s contemplating a second answer.

“Fair,” He shrugs “nothing beats some home-cooked edible food,” Memories swirled through his brain like he’s a soldier fresh out of war. Reanimated turkeys, living mashed potatoes, gallons of milk that glowed bright enough to light an entire room.

“I reckon your parents’ aren’t the best chefs?” He can barely hold back a wince at the question.

”They try to be…” He sighs “Dad can make some killer fudge but everything else he cooks looks radioactive,”

“I suppose I can relate to that” Damian drawls, “Most of the family is barred from the kitchen without supervision,”

“That’s probably a good idea, learning to cook can be pretty messy,”

” I take it you’re the cook of your family?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, kind of? I’m not the best but I can make edible food,”

“The bare minimum you know?” He laughs. “My parents are scientists so there wasn’t exactly time for cooking lessons while they were drilling us on safely handling their machinery,”

Damian looks him up and down, eyes locking on his face. “I don’t think those ‘drills’ did you well,”

“They did. I deliberately ignored what they taught me; fucked around and found out,” He shrugs. The past is the past and he’s learned not to change it for his own sake.

“I see…”

“Soooo…” Danny starts, the silence between the two of them awkward. “How would you rate the school-provided lunch?” He reiterated.

”I’ve only eaten the school-provided lunch once but I’d say it’s a four, maybe four point five if I’m being generous,”

”I’d settle for edible,” It’s a private school. Sure, it being in Gotham threw him off a little but what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? A bit too late for that.

“Your standards concern me,”

“Take that up with my school cafeteria; they gave me those standards,” To be fair, his parents contributed to that too. So had Nasty Burger. He had a love-hate relationship with food especially when it’s from a school cafeteria.

Call him paranoid but Casper High fed people dirt and grass plucked from the football field as a “Vegan option” Don’t even get him started on the rocks. Whole ass stones almost as big as his fist. They’d been expected to eat that?! Anyone who’d gotten nailed with one of those suckers when ‘food’ started flying, forever had his sympathy. Nobody was hospitalized but he’d seen the dents in the wall when they made him clean the cafeteria. Rocks were chucked in that food fight.

He’d gathered his lunch without much of an issue. The salad wasn’t sentient and his sandwich hadn’t screamed at him yet. He’d even managed to remember his lunch number at the end of it! Today’s a good day to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. God knows he's gonna need the extra positivity.

Walking through the cafeteria, he spots Damian pretty quickly. The other somehow found himself one of the only empty tables in the whole cafeteria. When Damian waves him over it takes all his self-control to stifle a grin. For a split second, he’d thought he’d overstepped. Thought he’d missed the signs that Damian wanted him gone like Dad missed the signs that Vlad was a psycho.

“Are you really the chef of your family?” Damian questions.

“I am,” he grins, as Damian eyes him skeptically. “Does this-“ Danny gestures at himself. “Not look like the textbook example of a five-star chef to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian replied coldly without skipping a beat. “You look like you could burn a bowl of cereal,”

“I can cook, it just took a while to learn how,” You could only learn so fast when every ingredient is contaminated by a mystery cocktail of chemicals.

Even if he wasn’t a master chef he’s better than he was those first months after the accident. So many dishes shattered against the floor. He’d been scolded for each one. Anything he tried to hold slipped from his grasp before the ten-second mark.

“Could you give me any advice?” Damian asked.

“Try out some pasta recipes,” He comments between bites of his sandwich. “They’re hard to screw up and almost every cookbook has about a dozen you can practice,”

“Don’t go with overly complicated recipes straight off the bat. If you’re trying to make a three-course dinner when you can barely make a peanut butter jelly sandwich you’ll end up with a whole lot of wasted food and some scratched pans,” Danny warns, he’s lost count of the hours he’d spent scrubbing the charred food out of pots and pans.

“Alfred wouldn’t be happy about that,”

“Maybe you should ask ‘Alfred’ to teach you,” Danny comments, he wasn’t a tutor. That’s Jazz’s job. Sure, he’d like to be helpful but his journey in the kitchen involved resurrected coleslaw and radioactive dairy products. An experience few could relate to.

“I taught myself with YouTube tutorials, cookbooks, and spite; I’m sure you’d learn better with someone with someone there to give you feedback on what you’re doing.”

“Tch,” Damian glowered, shooting daggers down at his food.

“I’m serious!” He emphasizes, “Trying to wing it straight off the bat just isn’t a good idea,” He knew from experience. Food poisoning isn’t fun. Neither were the blisters you’d get from boiling oil.

“I’m sure many people ‘wing it’ in the kitchen,” Damian insists. “What if I’m a naturally born chef?”

”Didn’t you say you’re barred from the kitchen?” Damian’s cheeks turn a flustered red.

”I said most of my family is barred from the kitchen!” Damian defends like Danny’s ‘accusation’ is a slight against his character.

”Are you included in that ban?”

”…yes” The other boy whispers begrudgingly. He tries, he really does, but there’s no stopping the quiet giggle that erupts from his chest. Damian glares daggers at him cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

”I swear I’m not laughing at you,” He wheezes. It’s a lie and both of them know it.

”Go ahead and laugh, I’m not the one who fried myself,” Damian huffs.

Danny made jokes about his accident all the time. Much to everyone else's dismay his lab accident was his go-to event to joke about. No matter how many times he got scolded for “Making people uncomfortable” he kept it up. This wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment but there’s something about the way he said it. Something about the way he emphasized his words made Danny lose all composure. Collapsing into his folded arms, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

”Hey…” The other boy’s voice is weaved with concern a guilty lift to his voice. Gently, he pokes Danny’s arm. Any worry drained from his features when Danny lifted his head to look at him.

”I thought I'd upset you!” Damian half shouts.

”Nah, I’ve got thicker skin than that,” He reassures.

”You're the first, Others tell me I come off rather… cold,”

“Really?” That’s a surprise. Danny couldn’t see it, then again he hasn’t known Damian for very long. After all that’s happened, he’d like to think he’s a better judge of character. The other boy didn’t give off Penelope spectra vibes. Nor did he act like a miniature Vlad. If anything, he reminded him of Sam.

“You’re a liar if you think I’m friendly,” He snaps scowling at Danny as if he’d just spat in his lunch or something.

”I’m not a liar, I just have a different definition of friendly than you do,”

“Does your definition of friendly happen to be rich?”

“Fuck no!” He snaps without thinking. Raising an eyebrow Damian stares at him green eyes scrutinizing his expression like there’s deeper meaning in his words. “Eat the rich,” He clarifies, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

“Friendliness is compassion, a willingness to help, not sugar-sweet conversations with extroverted compassion,” It’s easy to put on a sweet voice while you screw someone over. Even easier to insult someone with a snidely worded ‘compliment’.

“You helped me without hesitation when you could have left me to fend for myself,”

“The situation was ridiculous, I had to help.” Damian defends

“ You didn’t have to,” he points out.

“Listen, I’m not trying to challenge your view of yourself; I’m just saying you’ve been nice to me so far,”

Damian relaxes, staring down at his lunch. “I pity you,”

“Pity me enough to give me a bite?” Danny asks, batting his eyes obnoxiously.

“Absolutely not,”

“Fuck.”

#dpxdc #deadserious #dp x dc fanfic #the boi's are getting along so well

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apollodarling-writes · 1 year

Note

I love your yandere content! How about a Yandere!reader with HxH, platonic or romantic, have fun with it :)

YANDERE! Reader with HxH characters:

includes: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo, shalnark, feitan, and meruem.

MINORS AGED UP!!!

GON FREECS:

oh this sweet, sweet boy. he wouldn’t have a damn clue until it’s blatantly obvious. he would see that you’re getting hurt more often and think that someone is giving you trouble. he wouldn’t realize that you’re manipulating him at all.

when someone points out what you’re doing, he’ll start to catch on a bit, but he’ll come talk to you about it and hope for the best. if you’ve anticipated this, you likely have an ace up your sleeve… like, kidnapping or maybe getting rid of that person(s) or maybe even some more manipulation.

depending on what kind of yandere the reader is, gon will catch on at some point. it might take him a few weeks or maybe a few years- it all depends on how crafty you are.

now, when gon finds out, he’s devastated. he’s angry and hurt and upset. he doesn’t know why you’re doing this. maybe he can help you? you seem to have a twisted sense of love… maybe it was a product of your childhood, or maybe it’s something else. either way, gon wants to help.

KILLUA ZOLDYCK:

Killua will catch on right away. He can sense your bloodlust and will call you out on it. He doesn’t like it. It reminds him of his childhood. He will go to any length to avoid you if you don’t ‘quit your shit’.

Killua is a bit interested in why your love for him is like this, but will only make assumptions. He doesn’t want to get too close to you anymore. I will admit that i can see him being slightly scared of you. it doesn’t matter if he’s stronger than you or not- i think he’d worry about gon and try to distance himself. killua would induce his own lonliness for awhile.

If you kill to get his attention, he’ll just kill you. I genuinely think that manipulation is the only way to get to him, but you’ve got to be better than Illumi was (which is a hard task in itself). Good luck on getting him to bend to your will.

KURAPIKA KURTA:

kurapika would be suspicious of your behavior but wish for the best. i don’t think he’d catch on too quickly, but he’d be keeping an eye on you. when he finds out, he’s horrified. you’ve been doing this because of him?

in all honesty kurapika would be one of the easiest targets. he would flash back to his clan’s massacre and be absolutely fucking horrified- angry, but horrified. he would be angry that you were doing these things, but he’d be scared too. he can’t use The Judgment Chain on you. It would kill him! He needs to find his clan’s eyes!

If you find his Clan’s eyes for him and send them to his house, he’ll be forever grateful. i think this would be the way to his heart to be honest. like, i think he would feel indebted to you and try to do right by you because of it.

i also think that if you manipulate him enough, he’ll stay.

LEORIO PARADINIGHT:

Leorio is over the fucking moon when he finds out that he has someone that loves him. especially someone his type! i don’t think he would know about your behaviors at all until it was too late. leorio is the easiest target. you can’t change my mind.

when leorio finds out, he’s scared. he can’t use nen! he’s not strong! he doesn’t have a lot of stamina! what is he supposed to do?!

i think that leorio would try to leave but once he knows that you have eyes on him at all times, he just gives up. he feels like there’s nothing he can do. just let him continue to be a doctor and he’ll be okay.

HISOKA MORROW:

oh god, this sick fuck would cream his pants when he finds out. i think it would be a mutually yandere relationship as soon as he finds out. just be sure to keep his attention, because if you don’t, he’ll just kill you.

hisoka is the type to fuck you in someone else’s blood. like, if he finds you killing someone that looked at him for too long, he’ll just fuck you right then and there.

i think depending on if he genuinely falls in love w you, i think that even if you don’t manage to keep up killing or if you find another victim lover, he’ll drag you back by your hair. you won’t escape.

ILLUMI ZOLDYCK:

illumi would just kill you if he doesn’t feel the same way.

CHROLLO LUCILFER:

if you aren’t in the phantom troupe,i think you would pique chrollo’s interest and he’d look into you more. like, he’d track you down and stalk you for a bit and then try to make his own deductions as to why this is happening.

i don’t think that he’d be worried at all. the only worry he would have is if you managed to find his hideout or the members of his troupe. if worst comes to worst, i think he would also just kill you.

if you are part of the phantom troupe, i think he’d try to spend more time with you. he would conduct experiments and make deductions that way. if you’re the stoic type or if he isn’t able to read you, i think he would just outright ask you.

chrollo for the most part is indifferent. good luck.

SHALNARK RYUUSEI:

shalnark is kind of excited? like, someone is killing because they love him? wow! he wants to meet you in person. i think he’ll get to know you and then go from there.

shalnark is the type to fall in love because of personality, so if you’ve got the W personality vibes, you’ve hit the jackpot. just be warned, that if he does fall in love with you, it will become a mutually yandere relationship. there’s no leaving. no falling out of love. y’all are together until death, and even then he won’t be far behind you..

FEITAN PORTOR:

feitan portrays himself as indifferent, but he’s very very curious. much like chrollo, he conducts his own experiments and he stalks you. i think that feitan would be interested in a darling/yandere with a high pain tolerance or a darling that has sadistic tendencies, so if you have one or both of those, he’s in love.

feitan would love for you to kill because of him. i think he’d piss you off and flirt with other people or stare at someone for too long just so you can kill someone. truly, it’s one of his fantasies.

feitan is another mutually yandere relationship, but he would definitely carve his name into you or break some bones if you upset him. dont make him jealous. i’m begging you.

MERUEM:

meruem wouldn’t understand. like, why are you humans so fucked up? but at the same time, i think that he would want you as a mate. THE WORST MUTUAL YANDERE ONG!!!!

he will, at first, request pitou or one of the others to kidnap you so that he can observe you. he’ll question you and figure out why you’re doing this. and then he’ll see if you’re compatible with him.

if you are, he will hurt the fuck outta you. don’t make him angry. don’t make him jealous. he can and will kill everyone you make eye contact with. he can and will do things himself during the war between the chimera ants and the hunters.

if you fuck up badly enough, he will fuck you for days. especially during his mating cycle. he doesn’t mind you killing people, just don’t kill his upper three. he cannot be manipulated. he cannot be hurt. you don’t stand a chance against him. he will kill you and then himself if he deems it bad enough.

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

Text

Darling Inhales an Aphrodisiac / Yan Genshin Boys.

Warnings: Not SFW themes, yandere themes and unhealthy relationships.

During a rare yet closely monitored venture outside, you happen across a strange looking flower. Plucking it by the stem, you lift it to your nose and inhale its bewitching scent deeply. Nothing seems amiss at first. However, in the following minutes, you begin to display an outset of bizarre symptoms that leave you regretting your supposedly innocuous choice...

Childe

“Oooh, not looking so good there, are we? Guess it’s about time to head back, then.”

Childe acts like his usual debonair self. It’s amusing, really, for him to see such a drastic change in your disposition. His patience ends up becoming your greatest enemy during this affliction. He’ll capture both your wrists in one hand, making it impossible for you to deal with the problem yourself. You have no choice but to rely on his mercy. Which is an issue, as evidenced by the dark gleam in his eyes; you’re certain he has none. Not even for you. Childe’s in no rush whatsoever, he feels like he has all the time in the world. Whenever you think he’s finally starting to crack and will get it over with, he stops his ministrations, chuckling quietly and reminding you that it’s best to take these things slow. He figures once this passes, you’ll be back to your usual prickly self. Hence his desire to draw it out.

Diluc

“You... want me to stay? Are you certain?”

Diluc swoops in the second he notices your weakened state, personally bridal carrying you to Dawn Winery in a muted panic. He's already obsessive enough about your health and safety as is, so don't expect the word 'overkill' to be in his personal dictionary. Word has been sent out to the nearest doctors to see you immediately. Diluc tucks you into bed and expects you'd feel more comfortable without him hovering about. This is normally a correct assumption, but your body is longing for the presence of another. To his credit, he tries to exercise restraint since you don't seem to be in the most lucid state of mind. It's not that he doesn't want to be intimate, he assumes your hatred for him will increase tenfold after he indulges and you're back to your senses. When he realizes it won't go away without some help, he calls the doctors off and begins to shrug off his overcoat. Well, if it's for your wellbeing, perhaps it's okay just this once...

Kaeya

“What’s with the bedroom eyes, sweetheart? Not that I’m complaining.”

Kaeya is reconsidering his profession of being a knight. Perhaps being a florist is more up his alley if it could earn results like this. He’s ruthless in his own, special way, refusing to help you until you can come up with a good reason for him to. Mindless begging isn’t enough. He wants you to put thought into your already mortifying requests, so that you’re forced to stay tethered to reality while your mind is wandering. That way, at a later time, you won’t be able to give the excuse that you weren’t thinking straight. His scheming never ceases. In his view, it’s a fair enough trade. You’ve been cold and callous to him for so long now, why should he forget all the times you’ve rejected him? He’ll help when you promise to sweeten the deal and not a second sooner.

Zhongli

“What a potent strand this seems to be. Hm? I should’ve spoken up sooner? My apologies.”

Zhongli most definitely could’ve stopped you but didn’t make much of an effort to. While you're suffering in a curled up ball of distress, he picks it himself, musing over the flower's long history of being used to increase fertility when populations dip. He gets to about sentence number three before you're tugging on his lapels, begging him to shut up and help you already. A contract is introduced. He'll see to it that you're satisfied, on the condition that... you stop listening around this point... readily agreeing so long as it meant immediate relief. You decide to worry about the specifics later. Zhongli openly admits that he prefers you in this compliant state, finding it almost endearing. In the back of his mind, he recalls a specific tea that could help soothe the worst of your symptoms but feigns ignorance. Dealing with it the classic way is far better.

Albedo

“—Ah… I was a few seconds shy from warning you against doing that.”

While you have no solid proof, you immediately place the blame on the masterful alchemist for your predicament. Albedo explains in great detail what current changes your brain is undergoing, but you can barely follow him, not when your body is screaming for the touch of another. Your hope peaks and then plummets when he offers to synthesize an antidote, only it'll take a few days. He then clears his throat and offers another more immediate way to reduce your symptoms. Comes up with some convoluted scientific-sounding jargon for how it won't help if you touch yourself. No, you need another person (aka him) or a certain hormone won't do what it needs to do. He may or may not be omitting information (he definitely is). Asks to take blood samples after for “research purposes”, whatever that means. You don’t want to know.

Xiao

“So... you’re not dying?”

Xiao is genuinely more panicked than you are since he knows so little about the mortal body and its limits. It shows in his body language more than his visage. He's touching you all over, checking for signs of outward injury, taking your face into his hand, and appraising it from multiple angles. This further exacerbates your suffering without him realizing it. You don't give him the chance to pull away — you're grabbing his hand and placing it back on your body. He just sorta... blinks. Asks in a slow voice to repeat what your name is, your age, stuff like that to ensure you haven't lost it. The predicament flusters him more than you, somehow. He's used to receiving cold words and glares from you, not encouragement and sweet begging. This is infinitely better. He'll take you to a secluded location and all but ravage your body, pent-up frustration has him forgetting the concept of being gentle.

Scaramouche

“Huh. Had I known a measly flower is all it takes for you to succumb to depravity, I would’ve invested in botany ages ago.”

As you can expect, this unfortunate development is rapidly inflating his ego. Scaramouche makes a mockery of your current condition. He'll reminiscence through all the times you've denied him carnal pleasure, shaking his head, wondering aloud where your supposed pride went. If you want relief, you'll have to beg for it. He won't settle for small words or phrases, no, he wants you to say aloud everything you want from him in detail. At times, he'll feign ignorance, so that you're forced to repeat the mortifying words. Absolutely derives sadistic pleasure from seeing you squirm for him. How long you're forced to plead your case will depend on how merciful he's feeling that particular day. If you've been giving him an attitude lately... expect your suffering to last even longer. He’ll cancel the plans he has for the rest of the day, this takes precedence.

Kazuha

“Lay down for me, it’ll be alright. I’ll take care of everything.”

Kazuha initially treats it as if you came down with a sudden fever. He sits you down by a nearby river, helps unbutton your shirt so you can cool off, and even rips part of his outfit to soak in water to place on your warm forehead. He shoves his attraction to your person deep into his mind until you dredge it up yourself. For a moment, he thinks he's stuck in a lovely dream when you ask for his help in other ways. He'll quietly ask you to repeat yourself, not so that you feel worse than you already do, but because he genuinely thinks he might be hallucinating. You... want him to touch you? To kiss you? His cheeks start to glow. For once, words escape him entirely and he relies on action. In that moment, anything and everything you want, he'll gift to you without hesitation.

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wexhappyxfew · 27 days

Text

crash landings and all

(a/n): to my annie x brady girlies, here is the piece i’ve since promised and since fallen in love with!!! featuring annie, brady, coffee cups and the rising sun + some heartfelt talks about reality. and of course all those emotions annie doesn’t really need but feels instead. enjoy!

It was 0600 and she couldn't sleep.

But this had been happening far too many times in the past few weeks for her to ignore it and call it nerves, or worry, or any other bothersome symptom that would have one of the girls nudging her and asking her if she was okay.

Which she was, alright?

Or she was at least trying to tell herself that.

When there were mornings without missions, that's usually when she would come and sit out, just outside of the mess hall, and stare out towards where the B-17s sat, silhouetted against the purple and pink skyline as the sun began to appear. She'd usually sit there for about an hour, before she started seeing people moving about, and then she'd disappear inside, grab herself a coffee, avoid one of Major Egan's horrible jokes in the morning, and then be on her way to her crew, or to Silver Bullets, or to anything really - to distract herself, get her mind active, get her brain focused on something other than the worry.

This morning was no different - beautiful as the early dawn was, it was also incredibly reflective. She'd sit in the silence, the only noise the breeze in the trees and past her ears, the birds beginning to wake up and sing. It was usually a lot of her convincing herself things were fine and that everything was okay. That she was okay. But usually that didn't last very long and she was off worrying about one of the girls, or that one damn engine on Silver Bullets, or better yet if Lemmons had screwed that one bolt in enough. It kind of ate her alive at the worst of times.

"Hey." Annie looked up and found, stepping down onto the step, and nestling in beside her was Brady, an outstretched hand with a steaming mug of coffee opposite her, and a tired smile on his face.

"Hey," Annie said, trying to hide her surprise and current spiral that she thought was normally drawn across her face, "you're up early. Thanks." She took the coffee and watched as he settled beside her with a sigh, sipping at his own cup of coffee and glanced her way.

"I could say the same about you." he said back, his voice still waking up it seemed from sleep, knocking her shoulder gently. Annie watched him, the first rays of the morning son painting his face a beautiful golden with his eyes and she nodded.

"Couldn't sleep." she told him honestly, "Haven't been sleeping too well anyway, so. What's not to lose with a sunrise, you know?" Brady watched her for a moment, his lanky knees bent up to his chest, the mug resting on his kneecap and his expression quiet.

"Something worrying you?" he asked her, seemingly the first assumption of many on this base - was something worrying her? The sun would shine and she'd be worried, she'd be sat at a table and someone would cough and she'd think she'd have to get the doctor, someone would come in with a headache and she'd assume the worst. So, yeah, maybe there was something wrong, but she wasn't about to spill that to Brady at 0600 in the morning.

"I just worry about the girls, you know how it is. Making sure people are sleeping, eating, feeling okay, not feeling too homesick they're bedridden. That their letters get sent, get read, they get comforted, listened to." Annie said, "Just making sure they're keeping what smiles they can on their faces." Brady caught her gaze as she glanced his way and she found a small smile lingering on her lips.

"It's just what I have to do. Make sure things work like a well-oiled machine." she told him honestly, sipping at the coffee, "I must say, you know how to make a coffee taste good." Brady smirked slightly, a bit of a laugh escaping his mouth, before he looked at her.

"I'm glad you like it," he told her, his voice tender, "but don't try to worry yourself over your crew. They're a good group of ladies flying a B-17. And they've got a great pilot to lead 'em."

"Thanks, John."

"Just make sure you keep an eye on yourself, alright," Brady said, leaning into her side a bit, causing her to glance his way, "you're a part of that crew and just as important." He spoke with a gentle ease of tone, but equally just as serious, like he was coaxing someone to calm down.

"John Brady, you are full of compliments this morning." Annie said quietly, sipping her coffee and peering at him over the edge of coffee cup, just in time to watch his ears flame red a bit and he gulped and smiled at her.

"I don't lie." he told her and Annie grinned and held his gaze for a moment.

"Humor me then," Annie said and a brief moment of reflection passed over Brady's face, "Croz sort of let it out, about those 'mechanical failures' when he mistook France for England…..what was that about…..?" Annie watched him expectantly and Brady's ears flamed a deeper red to the point it spread to his cheeks.

"Supposedly you covered for Croz, real gentlemanly, too, I must admit." Annie said, "Lying to Major Egan of all people, John Brady, I wouldn't suspect such a thing." Brady chuckled at her words and shook his head.

"I was putting it how it was," Brady said, "God, it was embarrassing though. In front of both Buck and Bucky. Land the plane on its belly, Croz vomiting just below, the thing about to blow up but it doesn't, our first introduction to the base. You do what you gotta do for the crew. I was a bit of a shithead to Croz, but to be flying over France -Nazi-occupied France - it wasn't the most pleasant." Annie smiled, watching him as he spoke.

Knowing how he cared how he flew, how he coped. He was so fluent in what he thought and believed, right and truthful. Caring, gentle, but firm and purposeful in his speech.

"The worst was that belly-landing though," Brady said, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee, "that was horrible." Annie watched as Brady seemed to relive it for a moment. She bit back her lip and then reached a hand forward and placed it on the sleeve of his wrist, the touch warm and welcoming and causing their eyes to meet.

"I crashed an AT-6 when I was doing hours for my license." Annie said - she had never dared to tell a soul such a thing, she wanted to take that to the grave, bury it, hide the humiliation. She'd jumped out of it like she was losing her mind, a lunatic sprinting across the base, with her hair ends crispy and black, her blonde hair suffering from the smoldering smoke, looking more monster than woman in that moment. Not her finest, but it had taught her a whole lot of lessons. Brady watched her for a moment, surprised.

"You?" Brady said with a nod, "Crashed not only a plane, but an AT-6? No, I don't believe you." Annie could get his joking tone pretty solid by this point and instead laughed at his words, leaning back to wrap her slightly cold fingertips around the mug and nodded.

"I did in fact crash-land it. Crazed eyes, hair-on-fire and all." Annie said and Brady watched her as if amazed.

"I must admit, it's hard for me to picture that because you're one of the best pilots I've ever met." Brady said and if she were honest, they both looked surprised as that came out of his mouth, but he was quickly talking next and she took a moment to relive those words.

"I mean, you look so calm and collected….what…what happened to warrant that?" he said, leaning a bit closer, evidently interested in the tale that had her losing her mind for weeks after.

"Truth be told, me learning to fly was like telling a fish to live in a tree," Annie said watching as Brady chuckled, "I wasn't always….this." She pointed to her face and Brady smirked.

"Oh c'mon, you're a goddamn good pilot, Annie, really." Brady said, and then smiled, "Go on though." Annie sent him a look with a playful smirk.

"You, asshole." she said and nudged his shoulder, "Don't try to get back at me with that or something in the future."

"Never, my lips are sealed." Brady said, sending her a wink - why would he do that at six am when she's somewhat still fogged with sleep and brain exhaustion.

"Anyway," Annie said, catching his smile again, "all the engines crapped out on me as I was coming in for the landing, the tower was telling me to eject, ejector was jammed, and the wheels were stuck at 45 degrees. So, I did what I could, braced myself and the thing slid across about hundreds of feet of sand before tilting to the side, me pouring out like Ma's soup for dinner. It was so bad, and horrifically embarrassing. God."

"Hey," Brady said, leaning into her peripheral, "'least you can say you know how it's done." Annie let out a laugh at his words then and there, her heart feeling warm for one of the first mornings sat out here; usually alone and now in good company.

"I mean, it wasn't the first time I even crashed landed." Brady offered with a shoulder shrug. Annie stared at him, trying to keep the smile from her lips.

"You're joking."

"Wish I was, Annie," Brady said, "back in training, went down, Croz could tell you all about it. Became pretty well-known among the base and the training groups." He smiled.

"But," he said, "'least I can say I did it." Annie let out a laugh, clasping a hand over her mouth as she glanced at him and watched him chuckle, his eyes glowing in the morning sun that was slowly peaking its way over the horizon line.

"You should join me for mornings like this more often," Annie said quietly, looking out towards the sunlight, "get some things off your chest. It's why I do well….usually alone, but it helps me think. Through things like that." She looked over and met his gaze and smiled. His expressions in the early morning were so much gentler than at dinner, and it almost made her wish he could stay like that forever in some selfish way. All of them, truth be told.

"I think I will," Brady said, "I'm glad you like the coffee. I wasn't sure what you went for, but….you seemed like a cream type of person."

"You either are really good as guessing or someone snitched." Annie said, catching Brady smirking.

"Nah, Bessie was in there the other day getting coffee for you two. I know she drinks straight black and was wondering who the hell she'd be getting a coffee full of creamer for so…." Brady admitted, glancing her way, "I hope you enjoy it." Annie looked to the cup of coffee and took another lingering sip. She wanted to stay like this for a while, freeze time maybe. But that would never be such a thing in their lives.

"We should take a spin together some time," Annie said looking towards him, a smile growing on her lips, "if you ever wanted to be in Silver Bullets when she gets going in the air. You could be my co-pilot." Brady watched her, his face still for a moment, held in a graceful balance of seriousness and surprise and then the corner of his lips ticked upwards.

"I think Francis would drop-kick me from the cockpit." Brady whispered quietly to her and Annie chuckled.

"She'd be fine with it, I swear to you," Annie said, "maybe not anytime soon, as long as we're going up, dropping bombs and all. But maybe when this whole thing ends. And we just get to be. When we get to go home." Looking over, she found Brady already watching her. Home, seemed to echo in her mind the longer she held his gaze.

"Hey! That you Brady?" Annie watched Brady turn away from her face and glance behind her, her own gaze following to find Crank coming towards them, waving an arm, "Buck's been trying to get a-hold of you!" Brady nodded and then looked back at her, a sudden shift in whatever it was that existed between them. He slowly got to his feet, brushed off his pants and then stopped to lean down towards her ear.

"I'd love to be your co-pilot," Brady whispered, sending chills up her neck, "ma'am." Then, he was up and off, sending her cheeks flaming red, her eyes going over her shoulder, as he went and caught up to Crank, shaking his hand and nodding to him, exchanging all the pleasantries. Annie caught his eyes one final time as he glanced back at her. He winked.

#im so normal about them i swear #THEM!!!!#annie bradshaw #john brady #annie x brady #john brady x oc #listen they were going through and its john brady so ofc he had to find a way to make her blush :'))))#very excited to continue just writing them #can promise they do get to take that spin in silver bullets together ;D #THEMMMMM #an absolute joy these two #proud of this one :)#enjoy!!#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets

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p1xelpc · 3 months

Text

Wait, You Exist?

[ Plain text: Wait, You Exist? ]

Recently I wrote about abled perception of (visibly) disabled people. I wrote of their disrespect and dehumanization. I thought that I had gotten all of my words about that out. Then I read some posts from my English professor.

I want to preface this by saying that I do not believe that he wrote these things with ill-intent. He just didn’t think about us. He forgot that we exist. Or maybe he just never learned that we exist. Maybe he’s never had our existence shoved in his face to prove that we are alive. That does not change the impact.

“If you are lucky and haven’t had a job.” This is probably meant to refer to people who are financially stable. Probably supposed to be about people that chose not to get a job. But they aren’t the only people that don’t have jobs. This man works at a community college. Most of the unemployed people there aren’t going to be rich. We attend community college because it is cheap and accessible. Take a guess at why we wouldn’t have jobs.

Visibly “different” people (whether race, gender, disability, whatever) do not get the same opportunities as people that fit the standard. As soon as we are noted as “different,” we have less of a chance to get a job. And that’s for those of us able to work. I am attending school in the hopes that I can get a job that is even close to accessible to me. Because currently? My heavily accommodated schooling is barely accessible.

“I assume you are taking this course online because you are all busy folks with lives.” This one is probably true for a lot, or even the majority, of his class. But that shouldn’t be his only assumption. I am taking online courses because in-person classes are a lot harder to accommodate for me.

I require a carer at all times outside of my home. I cannot leave the house multiple times in a row, and frequently I am only able to leave once or twice a week maximum. I can only shower once a week, peers would have complaints. I am unable to speak. I can’t walk safely. I can’t propel myself reliably. I need help to understand speech and to work out responses. Leaving the house is a rarity usually reserved for necessary doctor appointments.

I am not a busy person. I barely have a life! Almost 100% of my socializing is online. Same with shopping. And creating. Hell, I can’t even remember what an abled life looks like. Exercise maybe? Regardless, most of my day is spent in bed, in a mostly dark room, playing and socializing on my phone or laptop. Some days I may write or design something. But mostly I just play and socialize. Less emphasis on the socializing. I’m not complaining. I still enjoy the life I do have. It just definitely is not what he is talking about.

There are so often little bits like that in what I read and see. Wording that an abled person wouldn’t ever clock as ableist. Assumptions that ignore disabled people. It’s knives small enough to slip past shields and stab directly into me. They aren’t helped by context. Ableds just don’t like to pay enough attention to us to figure out what ableism looks like.

There are other little things too. Making everyone write using Times New Roman (I can’t read that font). Dropping late papers an entire letter grade (I have bad time blindness). Not allowing people to work ahead (yet posting everything on day 0).

The first assignment includes music and peer review. That seems almost fine, almost like nothing to complain about. Except that I cannot understand music that I have not intensely studied and I cannot intensely study music that hurts my ears (which is a lot of music). Also music and its meaning is so deeply personal that peer review is nearly useless for what he wants to use it for. My allistic classmates are not going to understand why I chose this song to connect to my experiences. Neither are my autistic classmates. I have to choose between authenticity and being understood to pass that assignment, which seems to go directly against what he is trying to teach us.

He describes his teaching as less “out-dated” and yet it is still incredibly exclusive. Then again, he didn’t even write his own description.

#pix writing #this one messier than others #thoughts are too big to organize right #ableism #disability visibility #wheelchair user #disabled #disability #high support needs #middle support needs #nonverbal #nonspeaking #unemployment #abled privilege #actually autistic #actually disabled #idk tags

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bts-0t-7 · 5 months

Text

So What? | MYG | Chapter 6

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.6K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar @bontensbabygirl @codeinebelle

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Hoseok ran his hand through his hair, sighing. With the bedroom door open, he could smell the spices Zurie was using to make dinner. He was tired and he hoped that Kwan-Mi didn’t mind running the shop along for a few days. He should probably go over and give her a helping hand.

Hosoek didn’t know how temperamental Yoongi was. With no information about him, he truly didn’t know where to start. Perhaps calling Jiminie would be best. Hoseok dried his hair and threw the towel into the laundry bin.

He made his way down into the kitchen, seeing Zurie stir the chicken broth. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She replied with a light ‘Hmm’.

“Has the cat come out of the sofa yet?” Hoseok asked.

Zurie shook her head, silky golden ears flopping with the movement. “Nope. He is still there. Sleeping though.”

Oh.

“I’ll save a portion of it for him later on.” Zurie sets the table. “Let’s eat first.”

Dinner was silent today. No usual talks and kissing. No loud laughter and banging of tables. “Maybe you should call Jimin Hyung. He is a hybrid doctor.”

Hoseok sighed. “Yeah, I already shot him a text but he’s a busy man. Jiminie has yet to reply to me.” Zurie leaned over the table and ran a hand through Hoseok’s hair, trying her best to soothe him. “Would you like to go over to Y/N’s house? You seem too worried for her and I’m used to you going over when she gets sick.”

A laugh huffed out of Hoseok. “That shouldn’t be a good thing.”

Zurie smiled. “But it is normal in our relationship. Normal and good, because I know Y/N needs someone there for her. That girl is always acting strong, just like you. The both of you are as stubborn as rocks. Acting as if everything is okay when it truly isn’t.”

Hoseok tilted his head into her hands as she massaged his scalp. “How’d you know, darling?” His words started to slur. Her hands were skilful indeed. One would think he’s the hybrid instead. Honestly, Hoseok didn’t care as long as he got Zurie by his side, he’ll fight flames and the depths of the ocean.

“That cat, Yoongi? He’s just scared right now. I can scent it on him. He’s scared, brought to a new environment in such a hurry. I scent tears and fear and a hint of hospital antiseptic on him.”

That new revelation had Hoseok shooting up. “Wait what? Hospital antiseptic?”

Zurie nodded. “He…” She hesitated. “He went through quite a lot. I can scent things that may lead to certain assumptions but, no, he hasn’t come out so - no we didn’t talk, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shut his mouth quickly. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

Yoongi did not sleep well. Not that he wasn’t used to it. When he was on the streets, he hardly slept at all. Staying up was no problem for him but after the whole situation of him finding you running a high fever in the middle of the night, he was exhausted. He stayed up the whole night, wiping you down and forcing medication down your throat in hopes that your fever would not spike so close to haunting him again.

He was not well-versed in the human body and medications but he lived with humans enough to know what they should eat and what can help. But, none of his past owners has ever had a fever spike higher than 39.8°C. Your fever spiked so many times, higher than 41°C. Yoongi had never felt fear like that in his life - not even when he was running away from his past owners or rebelling from the facility.

For the whole night, Yoongi did not dare leave your bedside, afraid that your fever would spike so much that you would pass. His heart clenched at the thought of you not being there - not being here, in this world. Only a few months, but Yoongi didn’t know if he could live without your presence in his life. And that revelation itself scared him.

He didn’t want to dissect that information - didn’t dare to. He didn’t want to know where this information may lead him.

Dangerous, dangerous places.

Yoogni stretched his limbs when his stomach got too hungry to ignore. Might as well explore the place, he thought.

Yoongi walked around the levels of the house, investigating the nicks and cracks. He walked until his stomach no longer screamed for food and he headed back to the sofa. Just as he passed the kitchen, he caught a scent of Hoseok’s hybrid - Zurie. But catching her scent didn’t make him fast enough to react.

“Finally up, are we?”

A hiss fell from Yoongi’s maw as he jumped a few feet into the air. He landed with his haunches up and fur spiking.

“Relax, I’m not an enemy. I’m not here to capture.” Zurie looked down at him. “Here, change out and let’s have a talk over soup. I’ll heat it up for ya’.”

Yoongi eyed the hybrid suspectingly as she placed a set of male - oh, his - clothes on the floor. Yoongi pulled the clothes with his maw to the back of the sofa. He heard the beep of the induction stove as he pulled on the shirt. God, even the underwear? Yoongi’s cheeks blushed and his ears flushed pink. Okay, okay, just… get on with it. He left his little ‘hiding spot’, cautiously walking into the kitchen.

A bowl of hot soup was placed in front of him. “Have a seat. I saved some soup for you.”

His tail wrapped around his waist as his ears pressed down. He couldn’t trust her. Not yet. He couldn’t trust anybody but himself right now.

“How are you feeling?” Zuire asked. “I understand the need to be with her right now but she needs some space.” Zurie sat down opposite him. “Y/N has a tendency to constantly overwork herself but she knows her limits. Furthermore, she’s in good hands. Seokjin was a medic before he started his own company.”

Yoongi picked up the spoon and dipped it into the steaming broth. He stuck his tongue out to taste it before putting the whole spoon in his mouth. The air was silent and uncomfortable but Yoongi didn’t want to speak.

He finished the bowl of soup in ten minutes, standing up to wash the bowl when Zurie said, “Please, Hoseok is worried. You could at least answer the ‘How are you feeling?’ question.”

Yoongi sighed internally. He just wanted to change back and go to sleep. “I’m fine.” He replied. He hesitated before asking, “How’s - How’s Y/N?”

Zurie got up from her seat, hands grabbing the empty bowl and used utensil. “Not much difference from when you left. At least that’s what Seokjin told us.”

Zurie looked at Yoongi. He may look as if he couldn’t care less for you but his eyes betrayed all possible emotions. “Y/N will be fine. Just don’t get yourself sick or we won’t hear the end of it from her.” Zurie left him in the kitchen, still sitting on the chair. Yoongi sighed and walked out, going back under the sofa but this time, dragging the clothes under with him as well.

Yoongi woke to the banging of doors. Heavy, rushed footsteps came over to the sofa peering down and scooped him right up.

“FOUND HIM! I FOUND HIM!”

Yoongi hissed. God, it was so bright and loud. Couldn’t they have the hint that he just wants to be left alone to sleep?

“YO, BRO! WAKE UP!” Yoongi peeked open an eye. What the hell does he want? He hissed his dissatisfaction. Could people around here not get the hint to - PUT ME DOWN!

"Quick, quick." Yoongi heard keys and buttons as Hoseok carried him. He was bouncing as Hoseok ran, shoving him into the back of the car and speeding away.

Wait… Hey, hey, hey - Stop!

"Dude, stop meowing. We're going back to your home. Seokjin is in charge of Y/N, she'll be fine."

In-charge? What happened?

"Seokjin says that it is best if you were to be back home. Y/N could use some moral support."

The drive back was stiff, air-charging with a type of anticipation that Yoongi never wished to feel. People call him ruthless, always hurting the people around him. But was he really? Could he be better than his reputation for you?

Yoongi's whimper alerted the dog hybrid in the front seat. "Why don't you shift first? It might be easier for Y/N when you reach home." Zurie proposed, turning to the back and giving him a set of clothes.

Yoongi didn't understand what was going on. Nobody was telling him anything. Granted, he didn't ask questions either. It's better if he just went home and saw for himself.

The moment Hoseok parked his car in the parking lot of your apartment building, Yoongi sprinted for the lift, hastily pressing the buttons. A duffle bag was taken out of the trunk of Hoseok's car and he slung it over his shoulders, rushing to the opening of the lift doors.

Jittery was not a word Yoongi used often. Not as often since he grew numb to caring for people. He learned that it would only bring him more pain and dig a deeper hole down his aching heart of hope. So Yoongi closed himself off, acting more on the instincts of his animal counterpart than a human would.

The moment he stepped into the house, he could smell all sorts of scents. Some scents were more familiar than others but his aim - was you. Yoongi all but ran to the master bedroom, almost ripping the doors right off their hinges as he opened them. Oh and how he wishes he didn't.

You were lying there, limp and pale. So grey that Yoongi thought you might have died. He growled. You were not okay and they lied to him. You were shaking, spamming, whatever.

He couldn't describe the horror he felt when he smelt the strong stench of body fluids. Your natural scent was covered with a bitter taste. You shook so hard on the bed - a seizure, Yoongi soon realised. You were having a seizure. His pupils contracted as he prepared to lunge for you, only to be held back by a pair of strong arms.

"It is only a fever seizure." The strong arms captured him in, keeping him locked and frantic. "Fever seizures don't leave damage. Y/N will be fine."

Yoongi fought against that hold, wiggling and growling.

“Let him go Jimin-ah.” Hoseok told the male behind him. “He just needs to be close to Y/N. He won’t hurt her.”

The pair of strong arms released him only a second later and Yoongi ran that short distance to your bedside, caressing your hair. Yoongi whimpered at every tremble your body shook with. Covering your natural scent was the cold, sickly stench that clung to your skin like your shirt that clings to your cold sweat. Yoongi took the cold towel from the basin beside your bedside table, soaking it in the iced water before carefully dabbing it on your forehead. He then slowly started to move down your body, wiping you off.

“I know he wouldn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t have let him off so easily if I knew that he was unstable. It is my duty as his doctor to figure that out.”

Yoongi threw the heavy quilt onto the ground and brought over the light blanket you bought him, putting that over you instead.

The boys in the room stared at the continuously moving hybrid, shocked by the way he oh-so-carefully moved around you. Nobody would have thought that the rough, temperamental hybrid that they met a few hours ago would have such a side to him.

Seeing that you were doing fine in the hands of your hybrid, the boys left the room.

“Jimin-ah, I didn’t know that Yoongi was your patient. You didn’t say anything about the doctor-patient relationship when I called you a few hours ago.”

Jimin sighed and pressed onto the pressure point at the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t and I still can’t. NDA, remember? Whatever goes on between the both of us is confidential.” Jimin moved over to sit on the sofa. “But I also didn’t know that Miss Y/N was your friend.”

Hoseok sighed and joined him on the couch, leaving Zurie and Seokjin to adventure towards the kitchen, both of them hungry for a late-night snack.

“Yoongi is a rare breed of cat - mixed, but rare. It is due to the work of technology - the merging of DNA that is never meant to be mixed. He came from the black market ring.”

Hoseok shifted. “Wait, you don’t mean - the black market ring? Right?”

Jimin sighed wearily, shaking his head as he responded. “I mean exactly that, Hobi.”

Hoseok’s mouth dropped open as his head shook frantically. “We’ve been trying to track them down for ages -”

“I know.” Jimin nodded.

“Wait. That means that new information in the file -” Hoseok groaned. “Oh for goodness sake! They could’ve just said it!”

“Maybe they didn’t as Y/N ticked the ‘no’ on the confidentiality form.”

“Oh.”

Silence spread around the air as the two males in the living room sat and processed the information they were just bombarded with. Seokjin and Zurie came back with freshly cut fruits.

“How about the both of you just let your brains take a break?” Seokjin placed the bowl of fruits on the coffee table. Zurie went over to sit on Hoseok’s lap and Seokjin took the loveseat opposite the couple and the painfully-missing-his-wife trio.

They sat in silence with the occasional sound of cutlery clinking and chewing of the fruits. It was so silent that they all jumped a good five feet in the air when the doorbell rang. Seokjin ran over to the door and opened it, revealing -

Zurie ran over, crashing into the lady holding multiple bags. “Ji-Hyun!” Zurie was nearly buzzing with excitement at this point in time and her darling husband was pouting on the sofa. Hoseok was laughing his body off and her husband sat there, cross-legged and crossed-arms with a very prominent pout on his lips.

Ji-Hyun hugged Zurie back as much as she could before moving over to the dining table. “Seokjin told me to bring over food and extra medication when I come over.” She carefully separated the food from the bags and placed everything out. Seokjin moved over to help her.

“Go on. I’ll just put these where they’re meant to be.”

Ji-Hyun stood at the head of the table. “Maybe I should just stay to tease him more.” She laughed.

Seokjin bellowed out laughter. “Yah, just go. His pout is going to stay even more permanent if you don’t.”

Ji-Hyun thanked him as she moved over to her kid-man of a husband. She fluffed his hair as she said, “Hello, darling.”

“Hello, darling.” Jimin mimicked her and Ji-Hyun kept her lips tight, trying hard to not laugh. After a few seconds, Jimin untangled his arms and wrapped them around her. Jimin sighed as he pulled her closer and snuggled into the fabric of her clothes. “Hello, mate.”

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lieslab · 2 months

Text

Already gone

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Jeongin X gn reader

Summary: You're grieving the death of someone you loved when your boyfriend finds you breaking down.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.9K

Trigger warning: Death, grief, depression and anxiety surrounding death.

_ _ _

Outside the snow fell from the sky and drifted down silently. In the streetlights, it glistened like diamonds. Outside it was entirely silent. Not a car with a revving engine, not the loudness of another human, and not even the sound of a nearby animal.

You sucked in another mouthful of the icy air and exhaled. In front of you, your breath jutted out in a stream of hot air. The outdoors always felt fresher this time of the year. Something about the cold was refreshing in your lungs.

The burn as you inhaled and the steady exhale. You shut your eyes with your arms wrapped over your chest. Grief was so hard to deal with. It was too much to carry by yourself and you were crumbling.

You tried so hard to pretend like everything was fine. One of the best people you knew had just died and yet you continued to act like it was normal. At least, it was that way until tonight.

In the dead of a bitter winter night, you stood on your front porch with a frown on your face. You tried to put up a brave front. You tried to pretend you were okay because it was easier than to admit something was wrong.

Death isn't always kind to everyone. It snatches some people in their sleep and others as they burn in flames. It coaxes babies out of cribs and slips in and out of hospital rooms without anyone noticing until it’s too late.

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel at this point. You weren’t depressed, but you weren’t happy either. You were entirely numb to everything around you and that included your boyfriend.

When your loved one was ripped away, he was there when you got the phone call. When you uttered the words out loud that changed your life forever, he was there. His warm hand slipped into yours and he tried to make you feel better, but it wasn’t enough.

The apologies from people, the pity, the mourning, all of it, you didn’t want to deal with it. From that point on, you shut down. What else were you supposed to do? How else were you supposed to cope?

All the things that made life seem worth living slowly faded away and slipped through your fingers. Those hobbies you spent hours enjoying seemed senseless now. What was the point of enjoying anything when all you could think about was them?

How could you enjoy your life when death could rip you away at any moment? How were you supposed to live knowing that? Knowing that one day you’d have to leave the people you loved behind and it’d destroy them.

The overwhelming thought made you want to curl up in a ball and cry. Most nights, that’s all you had been doing. You went to bed with Jeongin, waited until he fell asleep, and then let the silent tears fall.

It was so painful because it was unexpected. It wasn’t like there was a death assumption created by a doctor. There wasn’t time to cope with the idea of them being gone. There wasn’t time to discuss how they wanted their body taken care of.

You were left with a numbed mind, an empty heart, and thousands of empty questions. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

You could scream at the sky and shake your fists. You could destroy everything in the house. You could sob until your throat was raw and your eyes were puffy and swollen while you choked on your own salted tears.

The truth was that they were gone and there was nothing you could do to bring them back. No amount of praying, hoping, and wishing could bring back the dead. Maybe you’d be able to conjure up an old memory or find an old photo or video, but it wasn’t the same thing.

Pawing at your eyes, you smeared the tears across your cheeks. Your place and belonging in the world had been violently uprooted. Food didn’t taste the same and getting out of bed had turned into quite the chore.

It took so much courage to get up and live. To go out there and try to make something of your life. To have adventures, to make friends, to cherish and create new memories while actually living instead of just merely surviving.

The remnants of your old life slipped through your fingers. All those memories were now one sided. You’d lock them in your brain and tuck them into your heart and hope they’d never fade away.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the door and screen door open behind you. Jeongin had tried to curl up into your body until he realized the bed was empty and the familiar spot of your warmth was missing.

He forced himself out of bed sleepily, so he could go find you. He knew you didn’t want to be bothered. He was aware that you had been struggling, but you promised you’d find him and reach out if you needed to. He was trying so hard to give you space, at least, until now.

The roots of anxiety began to tangle around your head when it came to death. Would it happen again? Would you lose another person randomly? Would death be cruel enough to do it again?

Of course, it would. It is death, after all. The only thing that beats death is immortality and that’s something we’ve yet to discover within ourselves.

It was so cold outside, the tears were beginning to freeze on your cheeks. You bit down into the velvet skin of your bottom lip. You wanted nothing more than to wake up from this never-ending nightmare.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to get a hold of yourself, but you couldn’t. This was so overwhelming and too much for one person to handle. Beneath the black starless sky, you were lost and trapped in a void.

A choked out sob fell from your lips. Your fingers dug into the cotton fabric of your t-shirt. The only comfort you received was the wind brushing up against your bare body. It cut through the paper thin t-shirt and drifted over your bare legs.

The t-shirt and shorts weren’t much protection. You didn’t even consider putting on shoes before you stumbled outside. You were lost and confused and so overwhelmed.

It wasn’t fair. Death wasn’t fair. None of it was ever fair. You were forced into this life against your will and a person you loved had been ripped away. And the worst part? It’d continue to happen.

Maybe not now, but maybe in another few years. Death would catch up again before you died because it always did. It shattered lives and it ripped apart families. It left ruins of friendships and it tore apart lovers.

Unspoken words were never said. Actions were never finished. Pieces of people were scattered around everywhere if you looked hard enough.

Art in sketchbooks and leftovers in the fridge. A forgotten hair somehow stuck to the wall of the shower. Dirty clothes in the laundry hamper that would never be worn by their owners again.

How cruel it was to love something that could be snatched away in mere seconds. Sometimes there was no screaming. There was no begging for mercy in the eyes of the grim reaper. Once you were picked, there was nothing you could do about it.

You tried to suck in a breath, but it didn’t work. Jeongin watched you silently from behind. You didn’t realize he was behind you until your knees wobbled and you collapsed.

Your knees buried in the fresh layer of snow, you screamed. You screamed for the loss of life. You screamed because you’d never see them again in this life. You screamed because all you were left with was fresh memories that hurt too much to think about. Everything was too raw, too much, and too real.

You screamed and you screamed and you screamed. You dug your hands into the freezing snow and threw a handful of it. You packed a wet handful up and chucked it at a nearby tree.

You screamed until it hurt to make any noise and when it felt like your lungs would give out. The unbearable aching of your throat mixed with the numbing of the cold snow. Utterly defeated, you collapsed into the snow.

You didn’t care if you froze to death. Dying seemed like a better option than dealing with all this grief. You curled yourself into a ball and went back to sobbing. You didn’t care about hypothermia or frostbite. You didn’t care that your organs were begging for warmth. You didn’t care about anything anymore.

But Jeongin cared about you. From behind, tears silently trickled down his own cheeks. There wasn’t much he could do to comfort you in this state. He couldn’t bring back your loved one. He couldn’t save you from this grief.

Someone had ripped his heart into shreds. You were the love of his life, but watching you lose yourself destroyed a part of him. He was supposed to protect you from things like this. He was supposed to save you from heartbreak.

It took him a moment to gather himself together and wipe away his tears. He leaned down and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register him.

You stared off into the distance of the falling snow. It felt like you were in a snowglobe. Someone had shaken it and snow was trickling down, down, down. Left in a sombering silence, you finally went quiet.

Jeongin wasted no time squatting down, carefully placing his hands beneath you, and lifting you up. He didn’t utter a word as he took you back into the warmth of the house. Your body was so cold that you were shivering. Your teeth chattered together, but you didn’t realize it.

He relocked the door and carried you back towards the bedroom. All the screaming and sobbing had left you exhausted. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, but now wasn’t the time. You didn’t need to be verbally comforted right now.

He laid you on the bed in the middle of the comforter. It was the same one that the two of you picked out together. You let him tug your wrists until you were in a sitting position. He took his time shifting you and wiggling you from your wet clothes and placing you in new ones.

When he laid you back down, your eyes drooped. He took both ends of the comforter and wrapped it around you like you were a baby. He climbed up, shifted behind you, and gently tugged your body towards him.

After you snuggled into his chest, you closed your eyes. His fingers found your hair and he began to play with it. The soft touches of his fingertips were warm against your scalp. His body heat slowly began to warm you up.

Death had carved your heart out of your chest. It’d take a while, but Jeongin would work it back in. He coddle you and coax food into you. He’d do whatever he could to lessen this burden on your back because that’s what people did for one another.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of your head. His arms wrapped around your body and he tugged you back a bit more. Leaning back against the headboard, he let his own eyes shut.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Who will death come for? Nobody knows. In the meantime, what do we have while we all wait for our turn? Love. A whole lot of love for the people we love.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #kpop fanfic #yang jeongin #i.n skz #i.n stray kids #i.n x reader #i.n fanfic #yang jeongin fanfic #stay

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g1deonthefirst · 4 months

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wasn't alfred a hedge fund manager? i get where ur coming from re: the class divide post otherwise btw but am somewhat stumped ab this bc he was definitely the one making the most money and likely highly educated as well, and ended up a cav. ig it is STEM/nonSTEM divide?

hi! yes, alfred was a hedge fund manager — he was also augustine's brother and so comes from a similar (presumably very wealthy) background. this exception doesn't really disprove the rule to me: either way, john was disproportionately likely to make people who were highly educated necromancers and people who were not cavaliers. i want to walk through a couple possible reasons for this.

the first possibility is that john (1) believed that people who were more "intelligent" were more likely to be able to understand necromancy and (2) implicitly believed that people who were academically high-achieving like scientists, lawyers, doctors, etc. were more "intelligent." clearly, john and the lyctors all seem to think pretty highly of their own intelligence. john in particular went from being a poor māori kid to being an accomplished scientist, and i don't think it's a stretch to say he probably believed he deserved it on the basis of intelligence.

in contrast, both alfred and cristabel have their own talents and intelligence disparaged — john describes alfred as "useless, but a darling" and augustine describes cristabel as "not hav[ing] the intellect you'd ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange." additionally, necromancy is talked about in scientific terms, which lends itself to the idea that you might need some scientific understanding to be good at it. i think it's entirely possible that john consciously decided that some people wouldn't be intelligent enough to hack it and made them the cavaliers, a problematic assumption chiefly in that it equates academic achievement with innate intelligence.

the second possibility, and to me the more likely one, is that john simply made the people closest to him necromancers while making people he wasn't as close to (essentially his friends' friends) non-necromancers. it's pretty clear that the people john made necromancers were people who directly worked on john's original cryogenics project with him, while the cavaliers were all people who got dragged into his cult by those original project members. alfred is a perfect example of this — he's there because he's augustine's brother. other people have made posts about the possibility that john did this to intentionally separate his friends from the people they loved.

but either way, i think this demonstrates who john as a character cared about. john, as a successful scientist, surrounded himself by people who were highly educated and successful, predominantly (as you note anon) people in STEM. people who are disproportionately likely to be white, neurotypical, and cis, or at least disproportionately likely to be able to conform to white/european, neurotypical, cis standards. not only is john not as close to people in his project-turned-cult that aren't as highly educated, but poor people aren't present at all. there are no janitors, no retail workers, no manual laborers, no farmworkers. i don't get the sense that john ever really unpacked his internalized biases or questioned why he primarily values people who are highly educated.

"but," i imagine my hypothetical reader who's somehow made it this far protesting, "of course he's surrounded by highly educated people. he's working on a cryogenics project!" well...precisely. tumblr user sophelstien's scratch a liberal and a fascist bleeds essay touches on how this project demonstrates that john is not as progressive as some people assume he is, but what i'll say here is simply that john didn't have to make the people in his cryogenics project the leaders of his new society. and by installing the very people who our society rewards into positions of power, john — consciously or not — shapes the new society he's creating with the old society's inequalities.

#asks #tlt #realizing as i write this out that i have a lot more thoughts on what the people who john made lyctors says about the nine houses #like as anon points out they're nearly all in stem #and i think that has some crazy implications for the nine houses that tie back to john's disregard for pregnant people #on the cryogenics project which evinces a disregard for scientific ethics more generally #(which is also seen in the human experimentation on canaan house)#i also have a lot of thoughts on the supposed necromancer-cav intelligence divide #that i think fandom really buys into as you can see in people who believe pyrrha must be a necromancer #and on what john prioritized when shaping the culture of the nine houses #but i think this post is long enough #also would you believe i accidentally inserted a poll halfway thru this post and couldn't get rid of it so i had to like #copy paste all my individual paragraphs into another program discard the post and repaste them all here

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randomwriteronline · 2 months

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"I, just to be clear - how long do you gestate?"

Matau looked at the nurse like xe'd just threatened to blow his kneecaps off, Vakama stumbled over his feet and nearly fell onto his face while he was pacing, and Nuju remained perfectly still as though that could have kept xem from seeing him.

Whenua sneakily reached out to the half scribbled notebook left on a nearby table: "What would be a normal period, in your opinion?" he asked out of genuine curiosity.

Nokama smacked his hand right off it hard enough to make him yelp while hissing under her breath at him to stop.

Alright, Netum reasoned as xe cringed a little at their bickering, maybe xe should have realized that their species did not reproduce like this normally considering their immediate reactions had been a little bit excessive even for someone experiencing their first time at this stressful rodeo.

Not wanting to be left out, from the other room Onewa shouted something that sounded like garbled static from a computer experiencing incomprehensible amounts of anguish.

His fellow Turaga winced.

Whenua reached for his notebook again, and this time got it slapped away by Matau.

(Nobody had any clue where he'd even found that, nor the pen stuffed into it. At some point, while his brother of Stone had been laid face up on the medical cot while gurgling in incredible pain, he'd just materialized right next to the obstetrician with it already in hand, looking intently alongside the nurses and doctors like he had any business being there between Onewa's legs, asking questions and scribbling down observations.)

(Vakama had eventually torn his eyes off of the pained Turaga long enough to notice what the former archivist was doing and had proceeded to give him the most furiously dumbfounded look he could muster, screaming above the racket: "A SMALL BEING IS TRYING TO CRAWL OUT OF ONEWA AND YOU'RE TAKING NOTES?!")

(To which is Earth brother had replied, "Of course I am! This is unprecedented, we might never get a chance of collecting this knowledge ever again! My academic colleagues surely understand the importance of my doing!")

(Such words had then been immediately followed by him being violently yanked away from his position and having his shoulders shaken so hard by Nuju's telekinesis that he thought his neck was going to dislocate, all while Nokama replied eloquently to his assumption with a simple yet very effective "ARE YOU INSANE".)

(All five were then promptly escorted out.)

"Let's try another question," Netum decided, "Do you have an idea when the conception might have taken place?"

"Oh, the last knowing mating?" Whenua piped up.

Nuju gave a horrendous shrieking squawk that lasted quite a few seconds, the meaning of which was universally understood to be Don't Fucking Call It That.

The nurse sighed, already regretting xer life choices: "Depends. Are you sexually active?"

"No," Vakama sputtered, "We are- we don't - our species does not- we, the Matoran come from assembly lines. We are built from machines. We don't - we're, we don't have anything. Or any... No, the short answer is no."

"Rahi are!"

"WHENUA."

"Sorry sister."

"But yes, no. I mean--"

Netum stopped him. Xer face was contorted by the grimace of someone watching their parents trying to climb up mirrors in an attempt at explaining in a sane and innocuous manner what the equipment in the case in the back of the closet is for: "I got it. So, either he-"

"Roughly one thousand years ago."

Xe turned to Matau.

"What?" xe asked.

He shuffled in his shawl, looking more than a little embarrassed: "Roughly one thousand years ago would be the, er, periodtime of beingmaking. There were... Everspecial conditions, that, uh, allowed us- him, to, er... Uhm... Uh..."

A suspicion struck xem.

Xer eyes carefully moved onto the other Turaga, observing their reactions to their Air brother's words: they seemed to suddenly find the walls, furniture, pavement and insides of their palms to be subjects of incredible interest, each drowning in their own vats of mortification at quickly increasing speeds while Matau kept on stammering in an attempt to explain the situation without having to admit even more that he'd unfortunately let on.

Huh.

Well.

There had been weirder paternity cases. Probably.

But one thousand years!

What was the longest xe'd ever heard of? A year and a half? Two years?

One whole thousand years.

Wow.

"Congrats to all of you," xe just said, because what else was there to even say.

They tried to disappear into themselves harder.

Vakama actually did, turning completely invisible before curling in shame on the floor, which Netum only discovered when he began rolling around knocking into chairs and the such like a ball inside of the world's slowest and most incredibly embarrassed pinball.

The door opened and slammed close so quickly that xe barely even registered the sound; when xe turned, a fellow nurse treated xem to a look with eyes the size of a pair of thornax.

She looked about to bust a capillary.

"Get in," she ordered, sounding a little hoarse.

Netum raised a thumb at her, faced the deeply mortified beings again, dryly left them with a: "Enjoy yourselves," and swiftly snuck back into the room in which Oewa still shouted bloody murder to all that existed before the Great Spirit Robot rusting miserably on the receding dunes of Spherus Magna.

The Turaga listened to five more of his anguished yells before Whenua began petting the air to find Vakama and hold him still so that he would stop bumping into everybody's legs.

"Should we speaktalk to the Hagah?" Matau proposed.

Nuju growled, shrieked, slashed at the sky and chittered furiously for about two entire minutes.

With her Rau dimmed after hearing only roughly a quarter of all that, Nokama let out the most tired sigh in her repertoire and sagged a little: "Depends on how much we value Kualus's survival."

They did not, in the end, have the time to contact the Toa Hagah, because before they could figure out a way to breach the subject to them and ask why exactly they had allowed them to get up to deeply unusual shenanigans while in their very unstable conditions as Hordika, their Stone brother's screaming finally quelled and they were allowed to see him again - under the conditions that they were to keep as calm as they could, since the patient had just undergone an incredibly stressful delivery, and that Whenua would not start asking questions pertaining anything that had happened in the five Turaga's absence for the entirety of his permanence lest he wanted to be promptly shoved back out.

He looked like he would have rather died, but he soldiered through it.

Especially because Onewa looked even worse.

A whole thousand years will teach you a few things about the people who destiny has assigned to be your siblings, for better or for worse, and usually against your will; and so they all had become intimately familiar with the tells of one another's moods, especially in specific situations such as, say, recovering from something, sickness or injury that it might be.

Onewa laid on the cot not limp, but stiff in a manner that had nothing to do with his usual posture. His eyes were shut, his breathing struggling to deepen, and his arms shivered weakly, as though he didn't even have the strength to tremble.

The five of them were on him in an instant, reaching out to touch him and try lending some comfort like that, ready to be shoved away if needed be. He welcomed them as best as he could, searching for them blindly, curling his fingers around their hands, testing the protodermis with his digits to tell them apart from the type of calluses plaguing the palms.

"F'respitt'r," he hissed at last - though his exhausted voice was laced with relief. "I'm fr'zin' - think y' could do som'thin' 'bout that?"

"Ah, I wish," Vakama replied, rubbing his hands around the tan forearm to warm it up a little, "But you know my powers aren't what they used to be."

"T'p'cal T'-T'raga, all sm'ke and no s'bst'nce..."

That made them chuckle while Nokama took the blanket Nuju had fetched with his telekinesis and laid it over their Stone brother, murmuring with the voice of a gentle brook: "There, that should be a bit better."

Onewa sighed: "Tha's why y'r my fav'rit', sist'r..."

"Oh? You desert your dirt brother like that?" she laughed.

"He ain' help'n' much, is he?"

"Excuse you-" Whenua mumbled; Nuju intercepted with a quiet chirping, clicking a few times for good measure, to ask how he felt.

It took a moment for the answer to be sighed back: "Bad. T'red."

"We're sorry, stonebrother. For, uh-"

A hand very gently smacked Matau on the mouth, not letting him continue: "Don't," the bedridden Turaga rasped in a monotone plea. He patted the other's mask a few more times to drive the point home. "Don't. I don' wanna think 'bout any of that righ' now. F'rev'r, p'ss'bly."

The silence between them unanimously agreed with his sentiment.

Netum found them cuddled up together and speaking hushedly in their strange whirring dialect when xe came back with Parca to deliver the news.

She coughed gently to divert their attention onto her.

Their brilliant eyes spooked the obstetrician slightly when they sat on her, but she pushed through her momentary discomfort with a wobbly smile: "Ehm! I, er, I'm glad to say that, well, from what we could parse - you know, different species and all - five of the sextuplets are perfectly fine and healthy."

The way they tilted their heads in unison was also a little eerie.

"The what?" Onewa croaked, honestly confused.

"The... The sextuplets. Your six little ones."

He seemed to process her words slowly: "As in, six indipendent beings?" he asked.

She nodded, now also confused.

If metal could have paled, the five surrounding the bed would probably have been see-through by now. The red one looked about to faint, too. Must have been the father.

(Although she had the sneaking suspicion, mentally comparing the colors of the six little creatures she'd just helped meet the light of day for the first time to those of the metal and flesh humanoids before her, that this had been a joint effort and he was just the most fragile link of whatever one could call the thing these six had going on with each other, because polycule didn't really seem to be the correct term in this case.)

The Stone Turaga gave a wheeze.

"No wonder that was so hard," he noted as he sank a little into the cot much more calmly than she would have expected considering he hadn't even been aware of the fact he'd been carrying in the first place, "Six whole beings... I thought it was just the pieces of one!"

Parca thought she was undergoing a stroke of sorts.

What.

What did that mean?

What the hell did that mean?

Netum had the kindness of pulling her aside and whispering helpfully in her ear: "Usually they're made in an assembly line."

"Oh," she whispered back.

Well. Sure, yes, that did explain it. Didn't make it any less insane, but at least the context showed there was some sort of logic to the madness now.

"Er, one of them is a little, ehm, a little different from their siblings," she continued, picking up from where her previous line of thought had stopped, "But we can't exactly tell if something is wrong, you know, medically, or if they're simply... Ahem... Built like that, and there is nothing to worry about. So, uh, would you..."

"What?"

"Would you like to see them?"

"Of course I do!" the Turaga waved, seeming annoyed, as though he had much to do and her needless talking was wasting precious minutes: "I went through the pains of Karzhani to get them out, I sure hope I can at least have a look at what all that pushing was for..."

"They're six?" the green one repeated faintly at that point - evidently having needed a little more time to process that bombshell of an information.

The black one piped up excitedly as though he hadn't been on the verge of keeling over himself seconds ago: "That's fairly common!" he said cheerfully, "Several species of Rahi tend to have litters in order to prevent exti-"

At least five hands piled over his mouth to shut him up, and Netum took that as xer cue to drag Parca away from that bucket of insanity for a minute or two.

They returned to a semblance of calm and a mostly disgruntled Whenua - the other Turaga weren't giving him looks of any sort, but from his demure behaviour one could assume they had chewed him out or at least managed to convince him to hold his excitement for another day. His pale eyes perked up still like those of his destiny-assigned siblings when the nurses approached to start carefully handing out the little ones.

They had expected... Well, it was hard to say. Had the six of them been Agori or Glatorian, Parca would have imagined a certain degree of awe, of starstruck wonder, gentle hands reaching out to catch their children in a careful embrace, or perhaps the strange apathetic curiosity that often struck alongside the beginnings of postpartum depression; Netum, having spent too much amidst the Skrall for xer liking due to xer Stone heritage, had learned to add to xer expectations a cold analysis, a check for any deformities that would make for anything less than a warrior - and in the case they were not found, then a thorough and thought through planning in preparation for marshal training.

The Turaga did none of that: they simply observed, captivated, dumbfounded, barely daring to lay a single finger on the little creatures slowly placed on Onewa's lap.

They were curled up on themselves like Mahi goats trying to keep warm on cold desert nights despite not showing any discomfort towards the current lukewarm temperature, with their heads swaying every now and then left or right, eyes shut, fists balled up tight just below their chests, not uttering a single peep or cry or babble. The muscles peeking from their tiny frames were a cold pinkish color, not yet the worn copper of a Toa or the much more common dull purplish tint their species knew, while their crystal-like brains had yet to paint themselves in any way. They wriggled their spines in a clumsy manner as though they were attempting to crawl on the thin armor of their backs - armor covered in faint hues reminiscent of watercolors, with plates much more flexible that those of a Turaga or Matoran. Above their little hands their chests rose and fell quickly against their pulsing lungs, and their heartlights flickered gently if a little fast, only ever becoming dim but never turning off completely; their identical faces lacked the deep dents in which masks were meant to slot, but the shallower lines digging into the protodermis of their skulls seemed to imply that the time for a Kanohi to be bestowed to them would simply come later, and for now they were in no danger of falling comatose.

Nuju reached out at last, as carefully as possible.

The light pressure of his digit against one of the little one's head made them squirm and stretch towards his hand in an attempt at nestling into it.

"Is that all?" Nokama asked, baffled.

"There's one more," Parca replied, "They'll be brought here in a moment."

"No, no, I meant..."

"I deepthink she was trying to asksay, are they whole?" Matau explained: "Are they... Complete? They're not losemissing any parts?"

The obstetrician blinked twice: "Er - yes? Yes, they're... Whole."

"But they are so small," Vakama muttered, gently poking a closed fist that quickly caught his finger. He sounded almost distraught.

"Babies tend to be," Netum chimed in. "Otherwise birth would be even harder than it already is."

Onewa said nothing, only looking at the five beings on the cot.

He hovered his hand above them without touching them, as though they'd been made of glass. He settled eventually on the leg of one of them with a feather-light touch, causing them to kick briefly at nothing before calming as they decided the feeling was not unpleasant after all.

How utterly strange.

The sound of creaking cries distracted the Turaga from their contemplation: Parca had reappeared - when had she even left? - with a little squirming thing struggling to escape her solid embrace.

"And here's the problem child," she announced quietly, handing them over directly to the Turaga of Stone as she did not trust the little one not to smack one of their siblings in the head in their agitated indignation at being carried around like some sort of dreadfully unfashionable purse.

It really wasn't hard to understand what she'd meant about this one being different. The infant being immediately came off as scrawnier, with thinner limbs and hands waving messily like little claws trying to play with yarn; the legs seemed a little arched and the neck very flexible, maybe too much. The face followed the shape of their siblings', that it did, but something in the way it moved felt off - as did the perfectly calm heartlight despite their erratic movement. They were chatty as well, squeaking and squealing angrily much like Nuju would under his breath, and their brain seemed much more opaque than it should have been; their armor as well seemed to resemble more matte hues than any brilliant ones, appearing to be a much darker grey than that of even their Earth sibling.

They thrashed and rolled in Onewa's arms for a little in a daring escape attempt that ended up going nowhere. With a frustrated huff they opened up their eyes: wide irises of an oily black stared up at the Turaga's blue ones, and the sight seemed to awe them so much that at last they settled down.

Then their eyes turned blue.

It was a murky imitation of the color, but it was so surprising that all present couldn't help but jolt a little upon seeing that. And they kept watching intently as an uncoordinated shiver struck the little thing and began blooming patches of tan and brown upon their body as it adjusted its proportions in tow, in a clumsy imperfect mirror of the Turaga's own colors and build.

Netum quickly glanced at the other five.

Upon determining that no, none of them seemed able to do that, xe muttered: "Huh. That's not normal."

Parca did not add onto that because she was busy running checks on herself to see if she was experiencing an ictus.

The only one who visibly lit up at the incomprehensible sight before them was, of course, Whenua: "Oh no, it is normal! That's a krahka," he reassured his stunned audience as he moved a little closer to tickle the little being, who turned and gave his digit a mellow bite as their teeth would grow out only in a few minutes: "It was heavily speculated that juvenile specimens would have a harder time shapeshifting at first, since they would have yet to establish proper control over their own abilities! Evidently they're a slightly parasitic species too, able to reproduce with other Rahi and adapt to the carrier's own appearance during gestation - clumsily of course, but still! It's not that surprising, thinking about it now, but it does showcase the extent of Roodaka's terrible power considering that she managed to make sure they're all but extinct even despite them not needing to mate with one another to ensure the survival of their species, which in theory should greatly reduce the problem..."

He shook his fingers, lightly bapping the little one's nose: they hung their little maws open to bite down again, but their slow reflexes were eluded by the quick movements.

The words floated giddily across the room for about half a minute.

They then fell into their heads like a ton of lead.

"Wait," Whenua realized softly, "That's a krahka."

Five pairs of eyes shifted onto the only Komau present: Onewa had already hidden it away behind his palm.

Deciding this was beyond what they were paid to do, Parca forcibly removed herself and Netum from whatever brand new paternity drama had been unlocked.

Nuju's voice, croaked from disuse and ages spent speaking only the language of birds, reached out in a dangerously indescribable tone: "Onewa--"

"SHUT."

Not a word followed.

The little beast squeaked loudly a few times, changing colors and shape as they took in the rest of their step-parents and sniffing their still perfectly peaceful half-siblings curiously.

At last, the Turaga of Stone lowered his palm to his mouth, treating the wall across him to a murderous glare.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Nokama carefully nudged him.

"I'm going to kill Pouks," he just growled.

The shrieks had already caused a few concerned members of medical personel and even patients to attempt entering the room in order to remove the raving bloodthirsty swan clearly carrying out a massacre from within it, but thankfully none succeeded in opening even just slightly the door, which remained blocked off thanks to Bomonga's body - turned as enormous as possible without collapsing the building in order to give Kualus somewhere high enough to climb to in order to escape from Nuju's undying rage. This meant that the Toa Hagah of Earth was left at the mercy of the squawking Turaga's ice pick, and considering his increasingly pained expression and the deepening dents on his armor he was probably going to succumb sooner than either he or his Ice brother would have liked.

That being said, he was having it easier than the rest of his siblings.

Gaaki shrunk in her shoulders, desperately trying to hide behind her Stone brother as she babbled: "We couldn't have know this would have happened-"

"The problem is not that you couldn't know, it's that you let it happen!" Vakama interrupted her rightfully angry: "We were vulnerable and unstable! You were the ones who decided to keep an eye on us so we wouldn't lose ourselves for that exact same reason! And then when we engaged in whatever tomfoolery the Hordika venom wanted you just watched us go at it!"

"We did NOT watch!" Iruini was quick to shriek as he peeked from behind his sister. He even raised a horrified finger to the sky as if to swear on the Great Beings. "We very much did not stick around to get a good look at your snuggle pile! The noise was disgusting enough!"

Matau reached out a hand to Whenua, who readily handed him his staff: "You still didn't stop us!!" he hollered, and threw the weapon directly at his Le-brother's forehead.

The impact produced a sonorous 'bonk' and a strangled yelp.

Before the Air Turaga could be supplied with more sticks to throw at their heads or, worse, turn to the medical tools in the room for ammunition, Norik raised his hands either in surrender or in an attempt at soothing the six beings like they were large lizards.

"I - please, listen," he begged them, a tinge of genuine fear in his voice: "Your unity was dwindling, it was getting harder and harder to convince you to stick together despite our best attempts - and, well, we knew from our years observing Rahi that such a, ah, unorthodox activity could significantly help easing stress and deepening the bonds within a community, so we sort of figured it would have been much more beneficial to let you ride it out on your own than to intervene to stop you..."

Nokama's shrill voice made him activate his Pehkui by reflex and shrink to the size of a cricket: "It didn't strike you for one second that perhaps Onewa might have minded being the bonding activity?!"

Speaking of him, the Turaga of Stone had been eerily quiet during the whole argument. He had sat virtually immoble on the cot while his little ones tentatively crawled a little closer to him to escape the annoying yelling, not even bothering to open their eyes or vocalize at all as he picked them up to place them under the worn blanket draped over both his middle and his long legs so that the fabric could muffle the voice; his blue eyes had been sternly fixed on the Po-Toa, who was starting to get massively creeped out by the unblinking stare never leaving him for a second.

When the others' yelling subsided - so, when Nuju interrupted his onslaught of avian injuries to catch his breath - all he did was merely lift a hand in front of himself.

Wrapped around it, the anomaly of the litter watched the Hagah curiously and chirped a croak at them while trying to shift into them.

The Toa briefly forgot their shame to stare at it.

"Is that a krahka," Bomonga finally spoke, too baffled to keep silent.

Ah, Pouks thought: He is going to kill me.

"This is your fault," Onewa grimly sentenced.

Yeah.

He was dead.

Kualus turned to his Po-brother with eyes the size of a knowledge tower: "What?" he yelped, though it came out more like a caw. "What?? Pouks?? What?!"

"Look--"

"What does that mean??"

"Brother, did you-"

"How does that even work, a Rahaga and--?"

"Alright, this is too weird-"

"How the--"

The thunderous clap of Pouks' hands hushed his slowly increasingly horrified siblings' chatter enough for him to recollect his thoughts.

He took a big, deep breath, trying not to let the Turaga's vitriolic gaze pierce through him and make him crumble to dust, and exhaled gently before starting to speak - in a very slow, almost stilted manner, as though convinced that if he could keep the intrigue of his explanation going he would not be immediately beheaded: "She is. A critically endangered species. And - since she was our ally... And! You seemed to get along. AND. You might have been. Compatible. Seeing as you were... Exhibiting specific behaviours. Towards your peers. As well as her. I thought. Well. It wouldn't be too bad - to try a... Uhm..."

He swallowed silently.

"Go on."

The sound of Onewa's voice made his entire body want to crumple into itself and implode, and it took a considerable amount of willpower not to do that and instead complete his sentence in a strangled voice: "A conservation effort."

"Mata fucking Nui, brother," Iruini sputtered out a little too loudly before he could stop himself.

"That's a fair reason, actually," Whenua mused.

An ice pick to the knee later and he was splayed as flat as a corpse on the floor while Nuju shrieked at him something that sounded a lot like No It Is NOT, You MAHI-BRAINED Mole Of An ARCHIVIST.

Onewa did not lose his poise.

"Little one," he called; the krahka in his hand turned to him with an air of great focus, and followed his finger as it pointed straight at Pouks: "Kill!"

Not even the time to react: the tiny beast promptly jumped off of his palm in a fluid motion, bounced on the floor like a rubber ball, scared Norik into scrambling right up Bomonga's arm and into the safety of Kualus's hands before he was run over by their clumsy charge, snapped open their little maws and clamped them down right on an exposed tendon of Pouks' leg.

Had hit slapstick cartoon 'Tom and Jerry' existed in this universe, the Toa's scream would have been indiscernible from the fictional cat's.

"TEETH," he wailed out in genuine anguish, keeling over and falling onto the floor to writhe in agony as the little bastard found his torment funnier than anything and resorted to biting him even harder, "OOOH SHARP LITTLE TEETH. OH MATA NUI PRESERVE ME IT HURTS. OH HOW IT HURTS."

The Turaga turned to the rest of the Hagah: "You're next."

"They've been alive for minutes and you've conditioned them to enact violence in your stead already?!" Gaaki shrieked.

"Yes. Little one, kill!"

Her scream turned wobbly as she hastily threw herself onto her Earth brother to scale him, Iruini following suit when the bloodthirsty dangerously ankle-height beast turned their attention to him since their designated prey had already escaped to higher grounds; eyes widening in terror as the creature began to now bounce in his direction, no doubt planning on mauling one of his own easily targetable enlarged muscles, Bomonga shrank back to his regular size and slid away from the pile of his siblings that crashed gracelessly only floor, sacrificing them in favor of the integrity of his flesh - a betrayal that ended up not even being worth the attempt as the krahka had already jumped far too high and far, thus managing to find the perfect trajectory to chomp at his wrist in mid-air.

With a strangled cry he fell right back into the heap of limbs that were the Toa Hagah. And at that point all Karzhani broke lose, because the little one, overwhelmed by the noise and adrenaline and fun and with no other instruction other than 'kill', grew a few more mouth in various disjointed parts of their body and began biting the shit out of anything they laid eyes on, which unfortunately happened to be the previously mentioned Toa.

The Turaga watched the bloodshed unfold halfway between enraptured and horrified, as though they were looking at a car crash in real time.

Some kind of garbled yell in Kualus's voice begged for mercy.

"In a moment," Matau replied while lazily scratching at the little Le-one trying to wriggle out of the blanket in response to the noise, not showing any intention of moving a muscle beyond that. "I deepthink Whenua would first like to downwrite some knowledgenotes on the everinteresting foodmanners of the krahka."

His Earth brother did not agree with his statement only because he was already scribbling away.

Norik squawked a horrid sound as he tried to hurriedly unshrink himself before he got chewed up into crumpled paper that sounded very much like PLEASE THIS HURTS WORSE THAN HORDIKA POISON, though there was room for debate.

Nuju chirped back something along the lines of Get Fucked.

More anguished yelling ensued.

It would have continued for a long while, frankly, or at least until one of the healers or nurses waltzed in and forcibly pried the little carnivorous pest off of the agonizing clump of metal and fllesh, had the Turaga not been startled by a very loud excited gasp coming out of absolutely nowhere.

Suddenly standing in the room as though having materialized in it was now a confusing being, a mismatched mess of Toa and Rahi and Agori parts clearly put together without having dedicated much thought into the whole assembly, clasping her hands to her chest and grinning an enormous almost ghastly smile as she beamed at the terrible tiny beast with nothing but pure unadultered pride.

"A natural hunter!" she cried out delighted.

Onewa pointed at her immediately: "LITTLE ONE!" he shrieked, "KILL! KILL! KILL!"

The krahka's head whipped to attention in the span of a second. With an impressive bounce considering its minuscule size they leaped onto their new victim - and much to the dismay of their father ended up right on her chest as she faked falling prey to their assault, maw opened to whine breathily about her coming end and make the little one grumble out a few hyena-like cackles as the two of them played Who-Will-Bite-Whose-Face-First.

With an angered tsk, the Stone Turaga sank back into his cot and crossed his arms.

Their new guest laughed at his annoyance.

"Oh, you shut it!" he growled back at her: "The least you could do is let them maul you properly! You have no idea what I've been through to get that menace out here."

A long slithering sound accompanied the now snake-like Rahi as she snuck onto the cot and behind the disgruntled Turaga, sustaining his neck and back with a sweetness that purposefully didn't mask a certain mocking quality to the caring motion: "I don't," Krahka agreed in a gloating tone as she nuzzled his mask, "And thanks to you I never will have to!"

She giggled louder as her face was shoved away, little one wrapped around her neck giggling with her: "Well, you could have warned me this could have happened!"

"I thought you knew."

"How was I supposed to know?! I didn't even know what I was doing!"

"That's not what you said that time."

"I'm fairly certain I was beyond speech in that moment."

The Rahi hushed for a few seconds, during which her spawn fell back onto the cot and trotted again to Onewa's lap: "Yeah, you weren't exactly capable of verbal communication," she recalled at last, "But your body--"

"Please keep that to yourself," Kualus croaked from the floor, promptly getting yelled at by Nuju to shut up.

Krahka treated him to a weird look: "I meant scents and posture," she explained: "Those are other ways for Rahi to communicate. Like this little one here, you can almost smell how much they like you."

Onewa shifted his gaze to find oily blueish eyes looking very attentively at his face, the tiny spawn of Karzhani wiggling where they sat with barely contained enthusiasm. A creaking chirp rattled up their throat as they kneaded at his leg with their clumsily shifting hands resembling now hooves, now paws, now proper palms; unable to fight back, the Turaga cradled them in his palm and watched them all but melt into it.

"Aren't you terrible, little one," he muttered, trying not to sound too fond and failing completely.

They'd have to find a name for them too, wouldn't they? Ah, so much trouble they were... And besides, the creature had already gotten used to being 'little one', so what was the point.

He muttered the words to himself: little one.

Lil' one.

Lil' wan.

Lil' wa.

Lilwa.

Lilua.

Liluah.

Hm.

Liluah wasn't so bad.

Krahka's satisfied purr of agreement was so potent that not only did it rattle his entire frame, but its vibrations managed to spread out to the cot as well, finally stirring her offspring's half-siblings from their torpor and causing them to somewhat angrily peek through the blanket they'd been swarmed beneath to complain wordlessly at her in the hopes she'd keep it down.

They would also need names, he mused to himself. Those would have to be decided by the six of them together - there was no way he could come up with five more on the spot, and Nokama would probably be at least a little upset if they didn't have some kind of specific meaning, or maybe she would have like to pick some from old legends. There was no way they were accepting anything from Matau, though. Sure, any suggestion from Nuju would have to be translated from bird, Vakama probably wasn't going to be of much help, and Whenua was bound to somehow fit in some tie or other to Rahi (which, in truth, would be fairly fitting), but all of that was preferrable to ending up with a clutter of little beings walking around named after music instruments or perhaps even worse, extremely volatile vehicles.

A good Po-Matoran doesn't believe too hard in the superstition that names shape a being into their true self much like molds, preferring to leave that up to the choices and actions one makes in their lifetime; but considering their brother's fancy for fast things usually very easy to crash into walls, it didn't hurt to be cautious.

He realized he'd neglected to mention their existence to Krahka only when he looked back to the Rahi to find her staring at the five beasties with an inexplicable expression, eyes wide enough to fall out of her head, stunned beyond words.

She leaned her snout closer to one of them, sniffing them intensely and nudging the plates of the spent red armor with her nose as though trying to tickle it off.

"Those are not yours!" Vakama shouted suddenly, as if overwhelmed by a burst of protectiveness, scaring her off of the tiny creature. "They aren't krahka, they're - they're..." he sunk a little in his shoulders, resolve wavering, but it was too late already; so he coughed embarrassedly once on behalf of the other Turaga as well, and concluded with a peep: "Ours."

Krahka blinked.

She gazed at the rest of the former Toa Metru.

What came out of her throat could have been called a whimper.

It didn't take long for her to shake off her melancholy, though: "Well!" she simply chirped, "Since I've infiltrated your litter and none of you have any experience or instinct to deal with small beings such as these, I shall make it my duty to help you raise them."

"... So that they're technically also yours?" Nokama translated.

The other grinned at her like a stone rat who got into the pantry and needed not say a word.

Oh, who cared - they were definitely going to need the help, and Mata Nui knew they had no clue whatsoever what to do with... with... With whatever these could be called.

(They had a discussion on what word to use for them later on, propositions ranging from cubs to pups to fletchlings to just plain Matoran - which felt incomprehensibly wrong - until Onewa had put his foot down on calling them 'kids'. Matau and Nuju had both objected on referring to these clearly anthropomorphic beings in the same way as juvenile goats, but he'd insisted: he was the one who'd gotten them out into the world, the word didn't immediately evoke some kind of Rahi, and even then he liked Mahi goats.)

(To say he was smug when the Agori confirmed 'kid' was another way they had to refer to babies would have been an understatement.)

Better not to look a gift Ussal crab in the mouth.

"How did they happen, anyhow?" Krahka inquired. "I thought Onewa was the exception among you."

Said supposed exception swatted at her nose.

Six pairs of eyes then turned to the heap of metal that was tentatively pulling its various limbs apart and back into the shape of a team of six Toa, who instantly froze in place under the still vengeful gazes of the Turaga.

Being used to reading body language meant that the Rahi instantly got the message - a very amusing one, truth be told, considering the immense fear emanating from the Hagah.

"Liluah!" she called.

Her offspring tore their attention away from their half-siblings and moved their focus towards her.

"Kill!"

The sound of several seven-foot-tall warriors scrambling desperately to escape a creature barely larger than half of their hands was music to her and her friends' ears. Less so for the healers that had to wrangle Liluah off of the screaming Toa before they managed to chew through the protodermis, but she supposed some sacrifices had to be made for the sake of her comedic enjoyment.

#bionicle #turaga #onewa #vakama #nuju #nokama #matau #whenua #krahka #toa hagah #gaaki #iruini #pouks #norik #bomonga #kualus #random writing #implied pregnancy #specifying for non-bonkle heads to avoid disgusting shit: brother/sister/sibling are used akin to honorifics in bionicle #they do NOT denote actual familial relations since (as mentioned in fic) the characters do not reproduce sexually and are artificially made #so none of these lads are related to one another by blood or other. just to be clear. ok? ok. cool.#it is very fair if yall see that and go Yeah Im Still Not Reading That Chief regardless #anyways hi. welcome to the Hagah Bullying Zone #putting onewa through the pains of (not described) childbirth because i like him and he needs to suffer #whenua has many braincells and the SECOND a strange biological process or perhaps a creature is involved they all shut down and explode #make no mistake this is first and foremost silly. i cannot take these situations seriously in bionicle which might be why i even think them #being fueled by comedy will make you a freak ass motherfucker is what im finding out essentially #as usual if i get too embarrassed this is getting deleted

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 months

Note

It's weird that John doesn't have any friends apart from Sherlock. The only other friend he has is Lestrade, who's a mutual, and who's also known Sherlock longer than he's known John.

John is usually considered more approachable, I think. I mean, he's polite enough to get dates to go out on regularly.

But he's quite closed off and quite rude to Mike Stamford in ASIP. Mike seems to be so polite, and yet he doesn't correct John when he says, "Who would want to be my flatmate?", not even out of an attempt to be nice in that moment.

Odd, isn't it?

Hey Lovely!!

We have to remember that John's "approachability" only happened AFTER he met and lived with Sherlock. Perhaps he was in a past life before the army as well, but war changes people, especially when one is traumatized with a sudden life-shift as John was.

God knows that the government treats war vets like shit, so already John is doomed to struggle without help. He hated seeing his (probably army-provided, mandatory) therapist, struggled with just existing and, from context clues in ASiP, we know he probably never ate either. Before ASIP, I assume he just recently re-entered civilian life after a LONG healing period (if he almost died – and probably did - we can make the assumption that he was probably hospitalized for a long time too, probably a few months) and fresh off of a forced honourable discharge. He tried his best to just carry on as Brits do, but it's not HELPING. He's struggling emotionally and physically, poor, depressed, and just trying to survive after the government basically threw him to the side.

John felt aimless, unloved, and lonely, and absolutely suicidal by the time we meet him. He was rude because he didn't WANT to try anymore, but he still gave Mike the opportunity to catch up, which shows us that deep down John DID want to TRY.

And Mike didn't correct John simply because he is a doctor. And we can presume an ARMY doctor if he's at Barts, so he KNOWS John isn't going to do well after war. John is NOT Mike's first time seeing a traumatized war vet. That's why Mike is gentle and knows John is struggling. And Mike knew JUST the perfect chaotic person to keep John's mind off of the tedium of his life-after-war.

Mike is a genius in my book.

Sherlock saved John just as much as John saved Sherlock.

Two loner misfits with strained relationships with their living relatives and thought weird by society? Totally meant to be!

#steph replies #sherlock mini meta #asip meta #my thoughts #chatting with lovelies #mike stamford #who is john watson #suicidal ideation cw #john's ptsd

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lammydraws · 1 year

Text

COTL x SDV Crossover AU

I've been brewing something, and it's not Ancient Fruit Wine I promise. Inspired by Husky's Farmer AU I started working on a Crossover AU with Stardew Valley.

Prepare for some of my unfiltered notes and messy doodles.

Lamb - Charlie, he/they

Their family owns a livestock farm, which is owned by their parents. He and his siblings often help out around, taking care of the animals but he still has enough freedom and time to help other villagers and farmers such as Narinder. Livestock because that's kind of similar to taking care of the cultists, right? Right?? :'D

(this is basically like Marnie's Farm)

Charlie was found as an infant in the forest by his parents who brought him home to be raised like one of their own children. He is not aware of that, but he understands junimo language & can sense a certain aura from the deeper parts of the forest. He's also better at picking up the magical aura surrounding the magical creatures.

Bishops

Their god form is similar to their Eldritch form, whilst their disguise / mortal form is similar to their regular Bishop design. In their mortal form they still stand out though, considering they're usually taller than regular villagers and always surrounded by a mystic aura of sorts.

Narinder

Narinder moved to the valley recently. It's not clear if he did so on his own wish or if someone, or something made him. Either way he's here to start a new life, and despite not having any experience he still somewhat grows into this role. He's glad he can turn over a new leaf without the prejudice of his past life.

Lamb welcomes him the day he moves to the valley and quickly notices he has no idea what he is doing, and after watching him struggle for a bit he offers his help. Narinder, being too prideful to ask help on his own accord, accepts the neighbouring farmer's advice and help albeit a bit hesitant at first.

His original domain is the very bottom of Skull Cavern, but since he left for unknown reasons the residing monsters have run wild and rampant and the very cavern itself has twisted and distorted by the uncontrolled magic, making it run seemingly endlessly.

Twins

Baal is a full time adventurer in the Adventurer's Guild, he frequently goes on long trips down the dungeons to slay monsters, collect loot and bring home ores, minerals and weapons. Aym used to be an adventurer as well, but stepped down from a full time position after he injured his eye. He runs a flower shop attached to Forneus' General Store & sometimes helps out in the Guild selling goods.

Most other characters fill pretty expected or similar roles.

Forneus runs the local general store.

Rakshasa works at the Saloon.

Kudaii runs the blacksmith/weaponsmith. Clauneck is the fortune teller, perhaps also with a semi-permanent location in or near town.

Fisherman runs the fish shop.

Leshy

Leshy, a magical, possibly godly creature residing in the deep woods [based on the DeepWoods Mod that adds an infinite dungeon to the secret woods]. Sometimes he surfaces to the lighter parts of the forest. Not the only godly creature in the valley.

Heket

Heket resides in the Witch's Swamp. She stays mostly hidden and rarely shows herself to mortals, being more reclusive and drawn back. Few villagers are aware of the strange rune in the cave near the Railroads leading to her Swamp, and even if any dared to enter they'd be chased away quickly.

Kallamar

Kallamar resides in a deep ocean cave near shore. He frequently exits his domain to pass as mortal and help the villagers around town, usually dealing with illness and disease. He does not disclose his godly status though and villagers are under the assumption he's the doctor from the next village, coming into the valley ever so often to help patients.

Shamura

Shamura is the museum curator, at least that’s what it seems like. Them being the oldest they are very skilled at passing as a mortal with little to no flaw. Despite this they avoid the outdoors and don’t attend any holidays or town gatherings so as to not slip up in their disguise.

Their origin is unknown, but some suspect them to come from a faraway island.

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akashigadabi · 1 year

Text

Premise: It’s just after USJ and you’re going to see Shouta in hospital. Heaven help anyone who stands in your way.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor

Warnings: some swearing

Summary: It’s just after the USJ incident, and for some reason no one but Hizashi remembers to call you and tell you Shouta’s in the hospital. Anyone who tries to keep you from him is getting bitten.

Fuck fuck fuck. Where was Shouta? Your mind can only tumble between equally frantic thoughts while the receptionist takes her sweet time to give you his room number. It’s been agony waiting for them to finish their treatment plan, especially when they should have consulted you anyway. You’ll just have to make do with what’s left, you suppose, even if it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Once you get to his floor, however, a nurse sitting at the station stands and moves to stop you.

“Miss—”

“Let me through!”

You know the nurse is just doing her job, but right now you just want to strangle her. With how frazzled you feel, you just might. Then she just has to push it by touching your arm, and it takes everything in you not to bite her hand. You were a little feral, just like Shouta, but you never had your lover’s hero shtick to help redirect your impulses.

“Forgive me, but we cannot allow—”

“I said let me through. I’m his wife, godsdamnit!”

You don’t succeed in not snapping her head off, but she takes it well enough. Instead of getting offended, she nods and asks for a patient name.

“Aizawa Shouta.”

“Oh, I know that one. That teacher. I helped bandage him earlier. Follow me.”

You’re practically a nervous wreck as you follow her through the ward. The anticipation and anxiety make your heart beat like a scared rabbit, and all you can do is imagine the worst. It bothers you that no one but Hizashi called to let you know Shouta’s status, but then again, perhaps it had only slipped their minds in all the chaos. Perhaps that assumption was generous.

After all, they have to know you’re one of his immediate emergency contacts. They have to know they need to call you if he’s become badly injured because of your Quirk. You aren’t a Pro Hero, but there are other licenses, certificates, and permits that allow someone to use their Quirk. Anything from Certified Work Permits to Investigative Licenses to Limited Competency Certifications exist for those who wish to use applicable Quirks within certain scopes.

Your specific situation involves having a Restriction Level One Compassionate Healing License. It means that you can use your Quirk on others, even in public, regardless of if the situation is as mild as a sprained ankle or as critical as a skull fracture. Unlike Recovery Girl, your Quirk doesn’t use the patient’s stamina, so you don’t need them to be well-rested or a mild case, or to wait for them to recover somewhat first. Being a doctor or a Hero didn’t suit you, so this seems like the next best alternative. Especially since the government and HPSC recognize how difficult it often is to keep healers from assisting someone injured or dying in front of them and how disastrous it would be to punish said healers, especially if the public got wind of it. So they offer an alternative. Those with healing Quirks who don’t wish to become medical professionals or Pro Heroes full or part time can instead choose to obtain a Compassionate Healing License, ranging from Restriction Level Five to Zero. Level Five had the most restrictions, while Zero had none. It basically meant there were no restrictions on how you could use your Quirk to heal, both in consideration of its natural limitations, and in consideration of its legal ones.

By the time you arrive at his room, you’re ready to collapse from stress, but you have just enough presence of mind to thank the nurse as you lurch into the room. Of course, it’s worse than you thought. He’s bandaged from head to toe, doing a remarkable impression of a mummy. He looks almost like a broken doll lying there, and it breaks something inside of you to see him like that. You sink into the chair next to his bed, barely noticing Hizashi’s jacket that he wears when he wants to be lowkey off-duty.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper with tears in your eyes. “What did they do to you?”

You don’t expect your idiot (not really) husband to answer you then, sounding like he’s on death’s doorstep for a casual nap instead of his dire straights.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Oh, so it’s just a flesh wound?”

“It’s—”

“Shut up, you insufferable man. You almost died. Let me fuss over you.”

Your hands shake as you uselessly smooth the blankets on his bed. You want to touch him, to reassure yourself of his continued existence if nothing else, but you don’t want to risk hurting him. You haven’t used your Quirk on him yet to ease his pain or wounds. The way it works was that the more positive emotions you felt, the more you could heal. If you felt positive emotions about the patient, even better. Even neutral emotions worked for adequate healing in a pinch. If you needed to “fake it” to heal someone, you could focus on a positive memory or something with positive emotions attached to it to coax your Quirk into healing the way you wanted it to. It sort of reminded you of how people made a Patronus in that one Pre-Quirk book series. Shame the author was some hateful hag, but at least no one has to see her post Chirps. (Chirper replaced Twitter in the last stages of the Pre-Quirk Era, and she’s been dead for the last three hundred years, so no worries there.)

Shouta grumbles but allows your still-trembling hands to flutter over his form, hovering without touching.

“They said I’ll make a full recovery,” he tries again, attempting to soothe you. “You probably don’t even need to use your Quirk. We could just wait for Recovery Girl to—”

You interrupted with a put-upon little huff.

“Why would I let you suffer when I can fix some of it now?”

“Silly woman.”

“Infuriating man.”

Your fake glaring contest lasts for all of five seconds before he sighs and relents. “Fine. Get it over with, then. But you’re the one comforting Hizashi if this wears you out.”

“It won’t. I worked out that the more I love someone, the less energy it takes. Now hold still.”

You reach for his eyes first, because you know how much he needs them for his Quirk and in your Quirk sense, they’re an angry blood red. You don’t know how they look since they’re bandaged, too, but you gather it’s not pretty. Any damage to his eye socket or orbital floor would be hell for his career. Not because being Quirkless was such a terrible fate, but because without it, he’d be vulnerable. Even as an Underground Hero, people recognize him, and if they know he couldn’t use his Quirk properly—or at all—anymore, they’d take advantage of that. They’d see it as a weakness, and in a way it was if they knew he couldn’t rely on Quirk cancellation in his fights. He might fight mostly Quirkless, but Erasure still gave him an advantage.

Only a fool would insist otherwise.

He sighs in relief the moment your energy enters him, flowing into his eyes first, then into the rest of his head to ease the migraine he has. Whether it’s due to his injury, the medications used for surgery, a general lack of sleep, or some combination you have no idea. In hindsight, after you’ve chased away the majority of the pain and swelling, you readjust your assessment to include a concussion and skull fracture in the list of injuries. How lovely, a sarcastic part of your brain mutters as you berate yourself for losing sight of the forest for the trees in your rush to scrub away his pain. On the other hand, the concussion and skull fracture are irrelevant, gone like a flash of sunlight on a rainy day. Frankly, you don’t care. It all hurts him, so you get rid of it. Every single layer down to the last.

His lip, which had busted before he bit through it, also healed, as did his broken nose and a deep gash under his eye, though they might both scar. His scalp healed too. Someone had yanked on his hair hard enough to rip a chunk of it out, and you could almost feel the echo of it throbbing despite the pain easing. It made you furious to know someone had hurt him so badly. It made you ache, too, as if you’re the one laying in bed beaten to a pulp.

Next you heal his arms. One at a time, of course. You start with the one closest to you. A crease grows on your brow as you register the shade—still an angry red, but a shade lighter. His entire body glows like a red star, flickering in various hues of the color that spells danger for the one enduring the wounds. It’s not until your power flows into his arm that you discover the horrifying truth. Fuck the sprinkling of bruises and the little nicks. His arm is broken in five different places, which explains the glare of red bathing your second sight. You sigh from the depths of exasperation, because of course this absolutely insufferable man with no good sense of self-preservation manages to have his arm broken in five places.

“Why does it feel like you’re glaring at me?”

Of course your bastard sounds like he’s amused and apprehensive in equal measure, you think fondly even as you contemplate tying him up in his own capture scarf so he can’t get himself so damaged again.

“Probably because I am. How did you manage to get your arm broken in five different places, Shou?”

“He what?!”

Hizashi’s alarmed cry comes from the doorway. You turn to glare at him, because really? This is a hospital for fuck’s sake! People are trying to heal!

“Hizashi, you know I love you, but if the next sound out of your mouth is another screech, I’ll toss you out of the window myself.”

“And I’ll help,” Shouta added gruffly.

You flick your finger at his already healed cheek.

“No the fuck you won’t, mister! You shouldn’t even be moving yet, let alone throwing Hizashi’s loud ass through a window.”

“Sorry,” Hizashi apologized as he shuffled into the room and closed the door. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“That’s like asking a cat not to be an asshole,” you mutter as you turn back around, ignoring the indignant “Hey!” from Hizashi as you set to work again.

Undeterred, the inappropriately energetic man sidles up to your side. Not close enough to get in the way, but definitely close enough to watch you work. It’s a delicate process. Even with all the love you have for Shouta, it takes fierce concentration. Mostly due to all the fine-tuned control you need for the seemingly endless fiddly bits. You sit back once you’re done with his arm and massage your temples. Only Shouta, you think again. Only Shouta.

“Your arm is healed, but your wrist and two of your fingers are broken too.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath at your side, and oh yeah, Hizashi’s here too, isn’t he? You’d nearly forgotten since you’d had to block him out to focus. Funny, that. At least Shouta’s arm isn’t hurting him now, though the fact that the other has also been set doesn’t feel particularly promising.

“In addition to the five breaks on his arm?”

“Yes, and some bruising and small cuts. I’ll fix the wrist and fingers then move to his other side. Once I do, it should be safe to touch his face and this limb. Do not touch anything else unless I say otherwise, got it? We don’t wanna hurt him more by aggravating his injuries.”

“Right. I can do that. I’ll hold his hand once you finish doing your thing.”

Without any further discussion, you dive right back into the healing session. Even though your Quirk isn’t directly tied to your stamina, like an inverse of Recovery Girl’s, you can still get tired. The mental and emotional exhaustion that can lead to a period of brain fog or numbness, like the kind that comes after a good cry—or even a short bought of depression in extreme cases—isn’t a cakewalk just because you can often otherwise function as normal. Still, Shouta’s worth the backlash, and you can always sleep it off. You heal his wrist and his fingers as promised, then pause and frown because while the halo of his arm has cooled to a healthier pink as it repairs itself, his ribs scream at you.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Ribs.”

It comes out as a grunt. You don’t care, just reach out to brush your fingers over them. Some are bruised, and some are cracked. Ribs can be bandaged, but not properly set. You probe around with your power to make sure they haven’t punctured anything, then cut off the flow of energy.

“How many?” Hizashi asks when you stand.

“Enough.”

His hand grips Shouta’s like a lifeline as you round the bed, pausing to correct the damage you see as you go. “Sprained ankles.”

“Shouta,” you hear the blond murmur as you heal a nasty bruise on his leg that feels suspiciously like the outline of a boot. Ouch. Definitely from a kick. The broken blood vessels sing in relief at your touch.

“He’ll live, Zashi.”

He’s got another three breaks on this arm that’s speckled with bruises, another broken finger, and huh. A broken clavicle. You list aloud the injuries as you caress each one, sending warm waves of healing energy through them. You heal the nasty scratch on his neck, too, and the random thigh muscle he somehow pulled. That seems like the worst of it, aside from the hodgepodge of bruised organs that includes his spleen, his liver, and both kidneys, and a bruised abdomen. Thankfully he has no internal bleeding, but he’d have been sore for a while otherwise.

By the time you finish, you feel a little numb, but only just. It seems to have messed with your emotions again in a limited capacity. The closest you can feel to happiness at the moment is bitter relief, though the love you have for him never fades even when you get these spells. They’re temporary, and part of this may be due to stress instead of just being induced by your Quirk backlash.

Mostly you feel tired, like you’ve been crying for a long time and can’t cry anymore but on a low level. It’s a largerly emotionally drained feeling mixed with the barest hint of brain fog. You don’t heal all the time, after all, not like Recovery Girl or some of the Quirked doctors. Even when you do, it’s not often to this extent. You don’t always have to push yourself so much, but now you feel as if you should. Quirk training might just save Shouta’s life one day.

You’d never forgive yourself if he needed you but you were too weak to heal him.

“Is it done, then?”

“It’s done. Give it an hour before you start taking off all his casts and bandaging, though.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

You shrug.

“I’m taking a nap.”

With that, you crawl into bed next to Shouta to sleep off your backlash. Hizashi doesn’t protest. Smart man, that one. Anyone who tries to pry you away from Shouta’s side right now still stands a high chance of getting bitten. Hizashi must like having both of his hands. Good.

#aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead x you #hurt/comfort #fluff and hurt/comfort #angst and hurt/comfort #angst and humor #fluff and angst #fluff and humor #usj arc #unforeseen situation joint arc #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #aizawa fanfiction #Eraserhead FanFiction

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analogwriting · 5 months

Text

It Comes in Waves

Chapter 6: Tidal Waves

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader word count: 2.7k first|prev|next

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Law turned to look at you and, in that moment, it hit you just how close the two of you were sitting. He took you in, concern spreading across his face. “You’re really pale for just a few scratches on the face,” he said. You shrugged. “I’m fine.” Then your door swung open and you were yanked out of the car. “Ack!”

“Y/n!”

You were met with a pissed commander. The world was spinning slightly, but you pushed it down. You were going to relish in this moment. “Good afternoon, commander,” you said with a sly smile. The same kind the commander loved to use. You saw the fury in his eyes and he tossed you into the car.

You stumbled, expecting to feel the cool metal of the car but was met with Law’s firm chest instead. “Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there,” you mumbled, a little delirious from bloodloss. You were fine. It was fine. “Holy shit, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me you were stabbed this bad?” Law looked at the gash in your side and you shrugged. “Had to win. Didn’t want you to worry. ‘S fine. Just need some food n’ water.”

Law held you up with a sigh. “You’re impossible.” You snorted. “I thought I was incredible.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” the commander piped in. You looked over at him. “Oh right. You’re still here.”

“What is the meaning of this?” he spat. You looked at him. “Meaning of what?” Commander Lindsay was seething. “You winning. There’s no way in hell that you won. Not with your time restraint.” You just shrugged, smiling lazily as you leaned heavily into the doctor next to you.

“You must have cheated.” The commander stepped towards you and Law stepped in between the two of you. “They didn’t cheat. There’s no way we could’ve cheated. We won fair and square. I’d even say with the odds against us.”

“Then how did you win? You're pirates? You've never driven before!”

You groaned. “What is with everyone and assuming I’ve never seen a fucking car before? For ocean’s sake. Like, I’m not even really a pirate. I just travel a lot.” You left it at that, couldn’t go airing out your own laundry now.

“So you lied.” The commander was not letting this go.

“Not my fault you played the assumption game and lost.” The look in the commander’s eyes, you could tell he was fighting the urge to absolutely kick your ass but you were right. You had won fair and square.

A devious smile spread across his face as he surely thought of pulling the wool over your eyes. “Alright. However…there are two of you. Which isn’t fair. We’ll let y/n make the decision. You both get your freedom but-”

“His ship and crew.” You didn't hesitate. You knew what he was going to say. You knew he was going to pull that shit from the beginning. He was a textbook bad guy - easy to read and predict. You’d been thinking about it since he had first told you about it. Law's head snapped in your direction. “Y/n.” You held a hand up to silence him but kept your eye on the commander. You pushed off of Law, standing on your own. The world was spinning but you weren’t letting it get to you.

Kemel’s face fell. “B-But we have your necklace.”

You blinked. “And?”

“It's your people's prized possession.”

“My people? I don't believe I know what you're talking about.”

“The necklaces are sacred among your people. An extension of yourself.” How the fuck did he know so much?

“Listen. I don't know what the hell you think I am. Or where you heard all that mumbo jumbo but it was just a random necklace I found at a market.”

The commander was angry again. “That bastard,” he mumbled. You were honestly panicking on the inside, but you had a feeling from the beginning that something like this happened. You’d been planning on playing it off then you can sneak in later and get it. If they thought it was nothing, then they wouldn’t guard it as much, right?

“Seems someone fed you the wrong info, huh?” You just wanted to know who the hell gave him the info.

“Well, we're still keeping it. Just in case you're trying to lie.”

You shrugged. “Keep it. Throw it away. I don't care. Give us his ship and crew.”

The commander sulked off, but there was a fire in his eye that claimed he was about to kill someone. At least it wasn't you guys. “At least he’s a man of his word,” you mumbled.

You looked to Law. “Well, that was fun.” You felt yourself grow woozy again and Law stepped forward, catching you as you almost fell. You thanked him, standing up again. He frowned as he looked at you, clearly worried.

He opened his mouth to say something when suddenly-

“CAPTAIN!!!” “BOSS!” “Y/N?!”

You looked over to see the crew rushing towards the both of you. You barely had time to process what was happening before you were pulled into a group hug. A flash of white came across your vision as your wound was pressed into and you almost passed out.

“Careful! Y/n is injured!” Law started pushing his crew members away from you and you felt yourself beginning to fall before Law caught you. A marine came over and Penguin held you up while Law’s cuffs were undone. He rubbed his wrists and sighed. You looked at the marks they left on his wrists and frowned deeply. “My eyes are up here,” Law’s voice brought you back before you had the chance to spiral. How did he know?

“You’re bleeding!” Bepo’s voice rang out, concern spreading across his face. “I’m-”

“I swear, y/n, if you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to let you die.” Law suddenly lifted you up in his arms and you yelped in surprise. “Let’s head back before they decide to lock us up again. I’m sure there’s a grace period.” He was back to sounding like a captain again. He probably also had more energy now that those damn cuffs weren’t on him.

Once boarded on the Polar Tang again, it was immediately submerged. Law wanted to put as much distance between the island and the submarine as possible.

However, you were antsy about that. You still needed to go back for your necklace. The commander was right. It was so important to you. It was sacred. It contained something that you can't exactly live without. Not effectively anyway. Not without losing your humanity.

Right now, he was currently stitching you up with the help of Bepo. You already had bandages on your cheek and the bridge of your nose.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bepo said after Law finished up. They had also given you a snack and some water, so you were feeling much better and the color was returning to your skin. You looked towards the polar bear, guilt creeping into your chest. That’s right…Law mentioned he cried after you left. That he was worried about you.

“I’m sorry for disappearing on you like that, Bepo,” you said softly, frowning. You took his large paws in your hands. “I won’t do that again, okay? I’ll always make sure to say goodbye first,” you said. He looked at you and nodded. “O-Okay!” He smiled widely at you.

That night, they threw a party - a celebration for surviving and for winning. Once you entered the room where it was being held, the iconic duo immediately came to your side, pulling you in. They apparently had a bunch of things to catch you up on.

While you had been in recovery the last time, they had taken turns reading a romance novel to you. Which you didn't remember because you weren't conscious but as soon as they spoke about it, you remembered. Comas were weird. They were telling you what happened in the next book. It was very juicy to say the least.

Eventually, the anxiety began to eat away at you. The further you ventured from the island, the more you worried about the success rate of retrieving your necklace.

“Y/n.” You looked up as Law said your name. Then he nodded towards the hallway, signaling he needed to talk to you. You simply nodded, dismissed yourself from Shachi and Penguin, and headed towards the hallway.

“You look troubled,” he said once you were down the hall a bit. How was he able to read you so easily? It’s like he always knew what you were thinking before you even finished a thought.

“When are we surfacing?”

“Eager you leave?” Law scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Can't stand us that much, huh?”

“It's not that!” You looked at him in somewhat of a panic and guilt appeared on his face. He knew how much you cared about the crew now. He hadn’t forgotten what you said to him in the cell those few days ago. It was meant to be a light joke, but his voice didn’t carry the sarcasm like he meant for it to.

“I know. I know.” His voice softened. “You need to go back, don't you?”

You nodded, looking at your feet.

“The necklace is important, isn't it?” You nodded again. “So what he was saying was true.” A nod.

“I just don't know how he got that information. How did he know who I was?” Your voice was soft and there was a hint of fear. You were terrified. If people were starting to catch on to who you were, it was only a matter of time before they put your face to your bounty. You wouldn't be a secret anymore. And everyone around you would be in that much more danger. You just hoped that this little fiasco would throw them off your trail.

“What's so important about the necklace?”

You looked towards him. “Well, when we're born, a necklace is forged using stones from deep below the ocean. Not exactly sea prism but another kind of rock that only is found near my island. We are known as friends of the sea. Our people have a very deep relationship with the sea.” You pause, not wanting to bore the doctor.

“Anyway. Each necklace is embedded with a sort of…magic. We can place things inside and draw them out at will. But only us. And I don't mean my people. Only I can access my own necklace. Mostly because in order to withdraw, it has to be me touching it and I have to imagine what I want to withdraw.” At this point, you were just talking and rambling. You weren’t sure if things were making much sense, but you couldn’t stop the word vomit coming out of your mouth.

You glanced at Law, expecting him to look bored, but he looked the opposite.

“A-anyway. Long story, short. There are some very important items in there. And something vital. I can't survive right without it.”

Law nodded. “Tell me. Does it look like this?”

Lo and fucking behold, he pulls your necklace out of his own hoodie. He takes it off and holds it out. You stare for a long moment in disbelief. You looked from the necklace to Law to the necklace again. You slowly took it in your hand. The stone glowed slightly as you put it over your head. The glow grew brighter, spreading over your chest before it the light seemed to disappear into your chest. Law watched with bewilderment. “Amazing,” he mumbled.

You felt a wave of calm wash over you as you stabilized once more. Only for emotion to take over and you threw your arms around the man before you. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” Your voice cracked as tears welled in your eyes and you sniffled. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

You pull away, wiping away your tears. “Sorry, sorry. I'm all over the place. When I’m without it for a while and then get it back, my emotions run rampant.”

It took Law a moment to process what happened and he cleared his throat. “Don't say sorry, it's not your mistake.”

You paused, looking at him. You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Did he just…use your own words against you? Had you said it to him before? You don’t remember but…you hadn’t heard someone else say those words to you in so long. After all, it was something your father told you. You sniffled, wiping your eyes.

“Y-Yeah…” Your voice was barely audible. You didn't know what to say. You looked at your necklace, recollecting yourself a little. Then you realized. “How did you?”

He shrugged. “Snatched it up when we were being shuffled from the workstation to the track. Someone just carelessly left it on a desk.” You blinked, staring at him. “Couldn't find a good time to tell you.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “But I could've picked the necklace instead of the crew.”

He shrugged. “I said I trusted you, did I not?”

“I forced you to say that. You were ly-”

“Who said I was lying? Who is the one assuming things now?” He smirked at you, a cocky grin that usually you wanted to punch him for, but not at this moment.

This time he shut you up. You looked from him to your necklace to him again. You smiled at him. A warm, genuine smile that he had never seen before. “Thank you, Trafalgar Law. You've done more for me than you know.”

He stared at you for a long moment before his brain seemed to turn back on. “Y-You’re welcome, y/n.”

He looked at you for another long moment but you were busy looking down at the necklace that donned your chest once again. “Join my crew.”

“What?” You blinked, looking at him - eyes wide.

“Join my crew.”

You stared at him. You wanted to accept. You wanted nothing more than to stay with Law and see what happened. To explore with him. To figure out why you felt the way you did. The familiar, faint memories that seemed to tease you from time to time.

“I can't…” You still had some loose ends to tie up. You still had things to take care of. Just like Luffy, you were also working on becoming stronger. There was something you had discovered that you needed to practice with. You were on a hunt for answers right now.

“If you're worried about us getting hurt, you don't have to worry. We can take care of ourselves.”

“I know that but…”

You thought for a moment. “I'll tell you what. The next time I see you, ask me again. I will take it as the fates telling me to join you.” Honestly, you knew the fates were telling you to join him now. What were the odds you kept running into him after that fateful day at Sabaody? That he saved your life and you saved his. That there was this pull you felt to him and a familiar tingle that tickled the back of your mind every once and a while.

But, you weren't ready yet. You had some things to figure out. Some things to confront.

Law looked at you and nodded. “I'll take it. But know, the next time I lay my eyes on you once more out there, I won't be letting you go so easy.” You blinked at his words, feeling your heart race. Did he mean to say it like that? Was he aware of how he was sounding right now?

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, backing away and towards the door. “Someone with your jack of all trades of skills would prove quite useful.”

You looked at him, blinking. Well, that was a 180. Was he trying to seduce you to get you to join and decided to drop the act now that you had somewhat agreed? You never know with this guy. He was a puzzle himself. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Asshole.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say to help yourself sleep at night.”

“Let's get back to the party. Don't want to worry everyone.” You nodded, following Law back to where everyone else was.

#one piece #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x you #one piece x reader #iciw #am fics

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vaporwavebeach-writes · 1 year

Text

An Unexpected Entrance

BTAA Scarecrow x gn! Reader (NSFW)

(1,426 words)

Summary: You find the Scarecrow in a compromising position and decide to have some fun with him.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, masturbation, dom! reader, sub! scarecrow, blackmail, fear play, pain play (kinda)

Notes: lmao sorry I was gone for so long, I just started a new semester at college and I’ve been trying to adjust. anyway, I finally got around to listening to BTAA over christmas break and it was SO GOOD and I am down so incredibly bad for scarecrow so uh, here’s this. enjoy the fic

You could see the pale sky beginning to darken outside. Finishing up organizing the documents, your final task of the day was to deliver the files to your boss’ office upstairs. It was getting late and there was nobody else in the warehouse but you.

Not a single soul.

So when you heard a faint voice coming from within the walls, it was enough to make you shit your pants.

In this warehouse, the feeling of fear was inevitable to anyone who entered it. From low level grunts, to helpless test subjects, and to those who were just trying to get by such as yourself, fear was the one vulnerability that nobody could hide. The more one defied their fears and faced them, the less likely they were to get the axe (literally, in some cases). Although your boss, the Scarecrow, loved to see the courage, nothing pleased him more than the wailing and panic of the frightened.

Keeping your mantras of courage in mind, you pressed onward up the stairs- determined to deliver the documents, and to finally go home for the weekend. It seemed that the further you proceeded, the voice only became clearer. You could make out hushed grunts followed by the sound of your name. Trying to tune out the eerie moans and reach you destination as quickly as you could, you practically all but crash through the door of your boss’ office, where you were greeted to the source of the noise.

“Sorry to disturb you so late, but I have the-” Your words trailed off as you looked up from your papers. In front of you was Dr. Jonathan Crane, completely red in the face, leaning over his desk in an awkward position. He seemed to be trying (and failing) to mask his surprise at your unexpected entrance. He was definitely hiding something, and with the implications of what you just heard, your cheeks began to redden.

“Dr. Crane,” you murmur. Looking him up and down, Jonathan’s expression of feigned collectedness begins to falter as you toss the files on the side drawer and make your way in front of his desk, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Were you just…”

“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.” He says slowly, in a pathetic attempt at gaslighting. Detecting the slightest quiver in his voice, your inquisitive expression forms into a knowing smirk, realizing that for the first time since you’ve taken this job, you now have leverage over Gotham’s mastermind of fear.

“There’s no need for mind games, Doctor.” You chuckle darkly. Crossing the threshold of his desk, you briefly glance down and notice the unmistakable tent in his pants, proving your assumptions to be correct. Spurred on by his obvious excitement at your presence, you continue to toy with him. “There’s no shame in wanting to feel good you know.”

You could feel him tense up after placing your hand softly on his shoulder. “However, I do suggest maybe locking the door next time.” Your hands slowly trail up and down him arms. “I don’t think you realize how lucky you are that it was me who caught you and not someone like, I don’t know, Oswald Cobblepot?” You could hear his breath hitch.

Working around the warehouse, you often heard things that you probably shouldn’t have been hearing. You heard things that if repeated out loud, could land you in the Scarecrow’s clutches, with fear toxin running through your bloodstream or a kill collar around your neck.

“How did you..?” Crane grits out.

“I wonder what he would think after he saw what I saw.” You continue to probe. Having the Scarecrow in such a vulnerable position not only increased your adrenaline and growing arousal, but also allowed you to get away with the words you knew could get you into some deep shit. “I wonder how that would affect your deal with him on the conflict regarding Harvey Dent.”

“Oh please,” he groaned, “So, you know about one of my higher-profile patients? Big whoop.”

“It’s not about who your patient is, but rather what kind of experiments you’ve been conducting on him.” While placing a strong kiss on his cheek, you whisper in his ear. “Let’s just say, I know that it’s not your usual brand of medicine.”

Before he could protest, Jonathan let out a low whine when he felt your mouth on his neck. Your hands began to twist down his chest, beginning to unbutton his shirt. You could feel him shiver at the sensation of your hands grazing over his chest as each button became undone.

“You know, I checked,” You whisper, pressing soft kisses down his neck. “On the paper work, there was an unnamed compound along with your usual shipment.” With deft hands, Dr. Crane’s shirt was completely open, leaving your hands to wander across his chest. “The compound came from an ACE Chemicals facility which, rumor has it, experiments on pharmaceuticals- typically used by psychiatrists such as yourself, with that of the Joker’s laughing gas.” Harshly gripping at his chest for emphasis, Crane winced; your blackmail seeming to increase his arousal. “…Care to explain?”

For the first time since you entered his office, Jonathan looked back where his eyes met yours. He looked intense, and dangerous- almost like a warning, but God, also so desperate. Refusing to speak, you knew that he was trying to defy you at your game. Luckily, you don’t often like to play fair.

“Ok fine,” you sigh, with artificial defeat. “You don’t have to tell me about that, instead, let’s talk about what you were doing before I came in.” You soothe your hands up to his shoulders, delicately tracing down to his collarbones. “I want to hear you say it.”

For some reason, that seemed to shake him more than your discovery of whatever shady dealings he had going on. Jonathan seemed hesitant, debating if he should tell the truth or not. When he took too long to answer, you grew impatient. He let out a loud whimper when you sharply nipped at his neck, biting just shy of drawing any blood.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” You chuckle. Your hand makes its way up to Jonathan’s throat and wraps around him firmly. Not hard enough to choke him out, but enough to show that you mean business. “C’mon doc, you usually have so much to say! No need to get all shy on me now, you’re only making it worse for yourself.”

“I was jerking off.” He confesses almost immediately. Christ, he was pathetic and you fucking loved it.

“There we go!” You laugh. “Now, was that so hard?”

Jonathan shakes his head. You can see him burning with shame and trepidation at your next move. You now begin to understand why the Scarecrow is so obsessed with fear, as you drink up Jonathan’s nerves like if it were that ice cold water bottle on your nightstand after waking up from a nap with a dry throat- Excruciatingly satisfying.

You rake your nails along the back of his neck, fingernails biting gently into his skin. “Look at me, Jonathan.” You order him.

He gives a low whine as he complies, turning around and gazing at your lips. Taking his chin in between your fingers, you tilt his head to bring your lips to his in a tender kiss.

Letting his guard down, Crane practically melts, giving you the perfect opening to slip in your tongue. As the kiss grew more heated, you grip Jonathan tighter; holding him in place for when you finally decide to nip at his lips.

When he yelps in surprise, you seize the opportune time to flip him back around to face over his desk, and unbuckle his belt.

“You are going to finish what you started, understand?”

Crane nods his head.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” he whimpers.

“Good.” In a shared effort, Jonathan’s pants fall to the ground as you see him reach for his aching cock.

“…And as you fuck yourself, you are going to tell me what you were thinking about and what you want me to do to you, got it?”

“Oh God, Yes.” He groans, feeling your mouth leave marks on his sensitive neck.

“I want you to say my name, as you begin to lose yourself; just like before.”

Hearing a compliant moan erupt from his throat, Jonathan’s hand begins to jerk himself off at a steady pace, already eager to listen to you.

“…And remember, don’t let my being here stop you.”

#btaa scarecrow x reader #btaa scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #scarecrow imagine #scarecrow smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane imagine #mia writes batman!!!

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