#DO YOU EVEN GET IT that I am TRYING to deal with healing or I’d avoid this entirely. effectively never see ANY of you again

[void-tiger]

…why am I even doing this. And am I feeling a distortion or reality.

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 1:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Brief mention of blood. Canon violence.

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You couldn't even look at her.

That thought alone made you sick to your stomach. The fact that you couldn't bear to look at a woman simply because she was interested in the same man that you were, made you want to cry.

Am I really that shallow? You thought bitterly as you slammed the hydrospanner into the damaged component of the landing gear you’d been trying to dislodge.

I can’t believe I was so stupid! You jammed the point of the tool violently into a crack, trying to pry it out. Of course he’d go for her. She was prettier than you - funnier too.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Hunter is his own man. He likes someone else. Not a big deal.

Except for some reason, judging by the heavy ache in your chest, it was a big deal, no matter how much you tried to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine.

The landing gear piece was still stuck fast. You set down the hydrospanner and picked up the plasma cutter.

This better kriffing work or I’ll have Tech up my ass for a month about it. Not to mention having to tell Hunter that I broke the ship. Again.

You ran your fingers over the healing scar on your cheek and looked at the carbon scoring around the piece that stuck fast, fused in place by laser fire.

A smile made its way across your face as you remembered how it all happened. You were providing cover fire so they'd have time to escape - more exposed than you'd like to be, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle - until a stray shot hit the ship at just the right angle.

Hunter had tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the blast with his own body.

Despite the chaos around you, being in his arms felt safe.

“Don’t ever do that again!” It was meant to be an order but it felt different than any of the others he’d given over the past year. The way he’d taken your face into his hands, carefully examining the small, insignificant wound on your cheek. His face was unreadable but as you’d looked closer, his eyes were a whirlwind of relief that you hadn’t been hurt worse. There was something else there too - something that fed the hope hidden away in your core that your feelings toward him were reciprocated. He’d kept his hand on your arm as you stood up. They were strong, steady hands that kept you warm and stayed on your arm seconds longer than the moment demanded.

But then you’d found him in a closet with Phee’s sister only hours later at Cid’s parlour.

I’m so stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? What made me think I’d ever have a chance with a man like Hunter? You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting your guard down. For the first time since the beginning of the Clone Wars, you’d felt alive in a way that didn’t involve throwing yourself into violently dangerous situations. You felt at home with this band of misfit clones. You had finally allowed yourself to feel and acknowledge the emotions that came with it. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done that before. It was stupid and you would make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Finishing with the plasma cutter, you brought a wrench down hard with a loud clang. The piece barely moved an inch and you threw the tool down with a frustrated groan.

“You okay over there?” Phee poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised.

“I’m good!” You grinned, hoping the faux smile would keep her from asking anymore questions. “Just trying to get this stubborn kriffing piece out so Tech can replace it when he gets back.”

Phee chuckled as you glared at the offending part. She walked over to the side of the ship, looking up and down at the stripped landing gear.

“Damn… what’d you guys get into this time?”

It was your turn to chuckle, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling negativity.

“That is a very complicated story,” Tech answered for you as he rounded the corner, “However, I do not currently have the time to tell it. We have another mission from Cid and should be leaving as soon as we’ve made our repairs.”

Good, you thought. Another mission might be just what you needed to get out of your head and back into the groove of things. Back to normal.

Tech stopped next to Phee in front of the landing gear, surveying the mess of tools and ship components. He frowned. “Although, it seems as though that may take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He grabbed the hydrospanner from the ground by your feet and began prying at the piece you’d been working on. “I will fix this. You pick up the tools and get that carbon scoring off of those panels.”

Phee grinned as she began helping you scrape. “I love it when you get all bossy like that, Brown-Eyes.”

Tech’s cheeks darkened, the only indicator that he’d heard her at all.

You smirked. Tech and Phee were so different from each other. Her carefree sense of adventure and aptitude for playing fast and loose with the rules seemed opposite to Tech’s academic personality and rigid structure. But despite their differences, they seemed to bond over an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. They belonged together.

Like Hunter and I should be, you thought bitterly.

The silence that fell on the group as you worked was deafening. Every so often you caught Phee pausing to watch as Tech worked his magic with the repairs.

Tech remained oblivious, but found himself sending subtle glances towards her as she worked. Every glance felt like daggers through your chest. A reminder of what could have been yours.

“How’s it looking, Tech?” Hunter walked around the corner, setting a crate of explosives down for Wrecker to load onto the ship.

The knife you’d been using to scrape the panel suddenly felt heavy and clumsy in your hand. It slipped through your fingers as you frantically tried to catch it but failed as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

You gasped as a thin line of blood blossomed across your pointer finger and the palm of your hand.

“Kriff!” you grumbled under your breath. Hunter stepped forward quickly only to be intercepted by Phee who grabbed your injured hand, inspecting it.

“Eh, you’re fine,” she pulled a bacta patch from her pocket, quickly wrapping the injury as though she’d done it more than her fair share of times. “Be more careful with that next time,” she chided. You looked up expecting to see Hunter but he was gone.

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[moonlit-imagines]

Needles and Knives

Jason Todd x reader

warnings: um. needles and knives

a/n: i just wanted to do a tattoo artist au for jason im weak. also no this isnt an nsfw

prompt:

It took a bit of thorough deliberation to figure out just what you'd be getting permanently inked on your body, but eventually you'd been able to settle on a meaningful piece. Quite the piece according to your artist, Jason Todd.

You walked into the studio, a bit dark and dingy in an endearing way. Fortunately, Jason's setup was more clean and organized than the rest of the place. "Sorry for the mess, the other guys aren't as concerned about health code as I am." He chuckled as he walked over to the front desk. "Far as I know, there hasn't even been an inspector here in at least five years." You laughed with him as he got everything set up on his end.

"Thanks for taking me this late," you said, "I'm kind of a night owl."

"You're not the only one." Jason tapped the chair you'd be sitting on for the appointment. "Make yourself comfortable, it's gonna be a pretty long session." You'd picked a nicely sized thigh tattoo that would be roughly three hours long, but Jason said he was in no rush and would only charge for two. You didn't think he was in this for the money, he seemed to like what he did. Or maybe he just liked poking people with needles. Either way it was a good deal and you liked being in the studio late and alone, it was more peaceful this way.

He was as gentle as possible, checking in every few minutes no matter how much you assured him you could take a little pain. Judging by the looks of it, you could say the same about him. There were plenty of scars on his arms from what you could see past his t-shirt sleeves. You tried not to make it obvious as you started observing the rest of his exposed skin for other marks. There was definitely a faint bruise around his eye and a few healing cuts and scrapes under bandages. Maybe he was trying to fool you with the “new tattoo” look the way those bandages were wrapped, but you could tell he got roughed up. You wondered if his knuckles were just as bad under the gloves.

“You alright?” Jason asked once again, wiping away at the ink on your skin.

“Uh-huh.” You dully replied.

“Seem a little nervous.” He commented without looking back at you, dragging the needle across your skin again. “You can’t keep still.”

“Oh.” You mumbled. “Just a little restless. Not used to sitting in one spot this long.” You both chuckled lightly.

“I know the feeling.” Jason responded. “Tattooing is really just a side hustle, I don’t do it all that often.”

“Really? You seem pretty experienced.” You complimented him and took a peek at the work so far. “What’s the ‘main hustle’ then?” You pried and watched his lips curl upwards ever so slightly.

“That’s a secret.” He responds after a moment of hesitation. You thought he was joking—just a bit of a tease—but he never did give you a straight answer. You were forced to keep awkwardly staring at the injuries he’d sustained recently and further back and make your assumptions. Maybe he got in a fight with a bear. Maybe several bears.

“Late night tattooing, huh? Any particular reason?” You innocently asked. He laughed just a little—just enough to embarrass you a little bit—and stopped tattooing.

“Let’s take a break. Can I get you a water?” Jason offered and walked over to the mini fridge.

“Oh, uh, sure?” You accepted. “I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“No, not at all.” He assured, handing you a cool bottle and taking his seat once again. “You’re just full of curiosity. Remind me of my brother. Always asking questions.”

“Not always a bad thing.” You took a sip and checked the work in progress. “Looks promising so far.”

“I’d hope so.” Jason used a paper towel to pat it lightly with a gloved hand. “You’re a bleeder.”

“Needles do that.” You nodded playfully. He was charismatic, made you feel welcome and not like a burden for making him do the work. He liked your design, he helped bring it to life, and he made sure you were comfortable when the needle was in your skin. You were just so curious about who this guy was when he wasn’t in this dump of a tattoo shop. “You ever gonna tell me what the main gig is?”

“I’m a pastor.” Jason answered and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I bet.” You noticed your cheeks start to hurt from the smirk you couldn’t shake since you’d started conversation. “Boxing?”

“You could say that.” Jason agreed with that guess. “Why do you think that?”

“The bruise on your face and all your bandages.” You tilted your head to motion what you’d noticed in your short time together. “Is that not it?”

“Oh, no. Right on the nose.” Jason was either very good at lying or had a very dry sense of humor. Either way, you figured it was time to stop prying. He was, after all, just your tattoo artist.

After a few minutes of cooling down, Jason got back to work. He’d been more focused thaan before, brows furrowed as he lost himself in the detail. That could only benefit you, though. And by the end, the tattoo looked beautiful.

“Thank you, it really looks amazing.” You moved to check all angles in the mirror.

“It was a great piece, I’m glad I did it justice.” Jason started cleaning up as you paid, you said your goodbyes and left the building.

Gotham wasn’t exactly the safest of places and you were pushing 2AM as you walked down the street. Of course you knew walking was not the best mode of transportation, it was the one getting you home tonight. Especially after blowing all that money on your tattoo.

Halfway home, you realized that you were being followed by a group of people that definitely did not know you or have any positive intentions. You picked up the pace and upon realizing this, they began advancing. You thought that it was over for you before loud screams caused you to stop and spin around. There you saw a man in a red mask standing over several unconscious bodies, freshly beaten by himself. Red Hood. “Are you alright?” He asked you, which gave you deja-vu. Even with that mask on, the warped voice, the concern in the question could not thwart you.

“Jason Todd?” You asked in a whisper. The mask didn’t convey any emotions, but the pause in his answer did.

“…No.” He said.

“Yes.” You replied. “Boxing.”

“Let’s not talk here.” He requested, walking along with you to a safer location. It took some time, but you got home okay.

“Were you following me?” You finally got the chance to ask him.

“Yes.” Jason responded honestly. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safely. Luckily, I was there. You make it a habit walking alone in Gotham—at night?”

“I ought to do it more often if it means you’ll be watching.” You slyly flirted with him, adrenaline still pumping a bit from the tattoo and the fear of being attacked on your walk home.

“Oh, how hilarious.” Jason took off his helmet after you let him inside. “Don’t do dumb shit like that again. You’re gonna get that pretty face of yours roughed up if you’re not careful.” He warned in the same flirtatious tone.

“What, like yours?” You tapped the side of your facecthat mirrored his bruise and he nodded.

“This isn’t pretty. And I’ve been through much worse, believe me.” Jason put his helmet back on.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You sat down on your couch. “I’m sure you have other beautiful people to follow home and ensure their safety. Have fun out there.”

“Remember the care tips for that tattoo. That’s some of my best work there.” He pointed sternly as he approached the door.

“You’ll just have to check in and make sure. Maybe you can help me with that, too.” You smiled mischievously and wondered if he was blushing under that helmet.

“Maybe I will.” His mask distorted his voice still and he shook his head. “Make sure to lock this.” Jason reminded as he exited out the front door.

“How will you get back in, then?”

“I’ll knock.”

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[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bedtime Stories | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: healing from a sexual assault, some tasteful smut (MDNI 18+ ONLY), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5344

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Now that you and the brothers had a working Colt thanks to Bobby and, as much as you hated to admit it, Ruby, the brothers were debating what to do with it. 

“I don't understand, Dean. Why not?” Sam questioned angrily. 

“Because I said so.”

“We got the Colt now!”

“Sam…” Dean warned. 

“We can summon the Crossroads Demon—”

Dean shouted over Sam, “We're not summoning anything—!”

“—pull the gun on her, and force her to let you out of the deal!” Sam finished, getting louder.

You rubbed your temples, head pounding with each shout.

“We don't even know if that'll work!” Dean roared. 

“Well, then we'll just shoot her! If she dies, then the deal goes away!” Sam yelled. 

“Boys!” You finally shouted, silencing them. “Both of you are going to get a grip, or so help me god, I will do this one on my own; you understand?!”

Neither man responded to you, both staring wordlessly at the road ahead. 

“Sam, the crossroads demons don’t hold the contracts—” you began.

Sam cut you off. “How do you—?!”

“Let me finish!” you snapped. 

Sam quieted again. 

“And Dean has already said that if we fuck with this deal at all, you die.”

“And if we don't fuck with it, Dean dies!”

Dean broke back in. “Sam, enough! I am not going to have this conversation.”

The brunet scoffed. “Why, because you said so?”

“Yes, because I fucking said so!” Dean asserted. 

“Well, you’re not Dad!”

The two men stared silently at each other. 

“No, but I am the oldest,” Dean finally said fiercely. “And I'm doing what's best. And you're going to let this go, you understand me?”

Sam turned away and looked angrily out the window. 

“Tell me about the psychotic killer,” Dean ordered calmly. “C'mon, Sam, tell me about the psychotic killer.”

Sam grabbed a paper from his lap and read monotonously. “Psychotic killer… rips victims apart with brute-like ferocity.”

“Any razor sharp teeth or four-inch claws?” you asked. 

“No. But the lunar cycle's right. Look,” Sam sighed, “if it is a werewolf, we don't have long; moon's full this Friday and that's the last time it changes for a month.”

Dean shrugged. “Two days, no sweat.”

***

That night, when you arrived at the motel in the town you’d be hunting in, you and Dean got a room separate from Sam. The two boys decided they needed some time apart after their argument. 

“How do you know that killing the crossroads demon won’t get rid of my deal?” Dean asked, breaking the silence that had settled over you as the two of you got ready for bed.

“Dean—”

“(Y/N),” he said sternly, turning to face you. “Answer me.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you finished pulling on your— well, Dean’s— t-shirt. 

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged you. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not gonna mince my words,” you began. “I was trying to get you out of your deal while I was gone. Y’know, before the Seven Deadlies? I tried to make a deal to get you out of yours. No one would bite.”

“(Y/N), why the fuck would you—”

“Because I love you,” you cut him off. You headed over to him and cupped his cheek in your hand. “And if I could stop you from dying without hurting Sam, I would. I’d trade my life for yours in a heartbeat.”

He kissed your palm, but you could tell he was still upset at the thought of you doing that for him. “Are you still trying?”

You shook your head and removed your hand from his face. “No. I knew you’d never forgive me if I was.”

“Damn right,” Dean replied. He stared down at you intensely, and you couldn’t quite read his expression. 

You searched his eyes desperately. “What am I gonna do without you,” you breathed out before you could think about it. 

Dean leaned down and rested his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him against you. 

You nuzzled your nose against his and slowly leaned in to kiss him. As soon as your lips connected, Dean wrapped his arms around you and held you against him firmly while you threaded your fingers through his hair.

You could feel Dean encouraging you to jump, and you wound your legs around his waist. He caught you easily and walked you over to the bed. Dean gently laid you back on the pillow, and you kept your ankles crossed behind his back. You tugged greedily on his shirt until he tore it off himself, and he then began pushing your shirt up your body. 

You allowed Dean to remove your shirt and then your bra. He looked to you, eyes hungry but pleading and respectful. “Can I—?” He paused. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, feeling slightly proud of yourself that you were making Dean Winchester get flustered. 

“Words, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Yes. Please touch me,” you begged, arching into him.

He breathed out, almost in relief, and goosebumps formed under his touch as he trailed his fingers down your stomach. Searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation all the way down, he stopped his fingers at your panties. 

“Dean, it’s okay,” you told him. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, staring at you intensely. 

“Dee,” you told him, grabbing his wrist, “it’s okay. I’m okay.” You guided his hand into the waistband of your underwear and allowed him to slip his fingers between your folds.

You took in a sharp breath as he did so, and Dean leaned in to kiss you passionately. He gently bit your lip every once in a while, and you began to palm him through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, and you couldn’t wait to feel him against you. 

“Dean,” you said between kisses, “Dee, I need you.”

“God, yes,” he groaned, “I need you, too.”

You kissed him feverishly, hands making quick work of his and your underwear while he played with your breasts. Dean sat back on his knees and stroked his cock. 

You looked up at him, somehow both doe-eyed and wantonly, and spread your legs to expose yourself to him. 

“God, (Y/N),” he breathed out. “You are so… beautiful.”

You smiled warmly, instantly reaching out to pull him back down to you. He happily accepted your touch and lined himself up with your vagina.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked. 

“Yes. God, yes,” you moaned. 

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds, he was inside you. He rolled his hips against yours smoothly, kissing you gently as his thrusts stretched you out deliciously. His thrusts soon became sloppy, and he broke the kiss to reach down to your clit.

“Cum for me,” he commanded gently. 

“Need you to first,” you whined. 

“Nuh-uh,” he replied, quickening the circles he made around your clit. “Now.”

“Dean—!” you moaned, suddenly convulsing with your orgasm. You reached out to him and scratched at his back, begging the orgasm to slow down. It hit you suddenly and rolled in in waves that you couldn’t escape from. You couldn’t tell whether or not you wanted Dean to get off you or hold you through it, and your spasming around him sent Dean into his own orgasm. Ropes of his cum shot into you, causing your own orgasm to intensify. You whined and writhed around, feeling the ecstasy would never end. It became almost painful, and Dean did his best to soothe you through it. He let you guide him to where you needed him to touch you or not touch you, and you were grateful for this rare moment of gentleness from him. 

Still inside you, Dean held you against his chest as your orgasm finally subsided. 

“How was that?” he smirked down at you. 

You playfully shoved him away. 

***

Later that night, still in that same position with Dean— you against his chest with his semi-hard cock inside you— your breathing became so deep that you thought Dean assumed you’d gone to sleep. 

“I love you,” Dean admitted. 

Your heart nearly stopped. You looked up to him, a flurry of emotions swirling inside you. “You do?” 

He nodded. “Thought you were sleeping, honestly, but I’m glad you heard it anyway—”

You cut him off with a deep kiss, hugging him to you. You kissed all over his face, and his boyish giggle was what finally made you stop kissing him. “I love you,” you told him. 

“I know.”

“Oh, my god, you did not just Star Wars me,” you scoffed playfully. 

“Oh, c’mon, you had to know I would,” Dean replied, nudging his nose with yours. 

***

The next day, you and the brothers headed to meet the man who’d barely survived the scuff with the werewolf. When you arrived, the man was apparently expecting you to be the sketch artist. 

Much to the brothers relief, your skill with a pen came in quite handy. However, the person who’d killed his brothers was just… human. Interestingly enough, he also had a Wile E. Coyote tattoo. Quite comically, the situation reminded you of the Three Little Pigs story. 

You said as much to the brothers when you left the hospital.

“(Y/N), that’s fucked up,” Sam remarked. 

“I’m sorry! I know it is! But think about it,” you replied, wincing, “three brothers who work at a construction site? Mauled by a guy with a Wile E. Coyote tattoo?”

“I don’t remember the wolf having a fuckin’ cartoon tattoo, sweetheart,” Dean snorted. 

“Whatever. Just thought it was funny,” you shrugged, shoving Dean’s shoulder. “Anyway, what’d you find out from the doc?”

“Not much,” Dean responded, “they were D.O.A. at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the coroner's report.”

“Lemme guess,” Sam cut him off, “their hearts were missing.”

Dean sighed. “Nope. But chunks of their kidneys, lungs, and intestines.”

“Oh, ew,” you grimaced. 

“Yeah; definitely not werewolf behavior.”

“So, what? Demon? Attacker could've been possessed,” the brunet suggested. 

“Yeah, but that guy said the dude stopped halfway through the attack. Why would a demon do that?” you challenged. 

“I think that, uh…” Sam trailed off. “Could've... Yeah, I got nothing.”

“Me, neither,” said Dean. 

***

That night, you and the brothers had gone your separate way for the evening. Dean, of course, was still sharing a room with you. 

“Hey, I meant to ask you,” Dean began, “were you… okay with last night?”

You smiled lopsidedly at him. “Yeah, I was.” You appreciated his concern with hurting you or retraumatizing you. You supposed that was one of the reasons he was so helpful to you through all this, and he was likely the reason you were able to be intimate with someone a little under five months after the attack. Had that atrocity happened to you prior to meeting Dean, you were sure your situation would’ve had a vastly different outcome. 

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and began to apply lotion to your legs sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you and Sam ever gonna talk about your seriously unfinished business?”

“I told him not to bring it up again. So no. And I’d prefer if we didn’t, either,” Dean said sharply. 

“Well, frankly, I don’t give a fuck what you’d prefer. You need to apologize to him,” you told him. 

“Why?” he scoffed. 

“Because I said so,” you stated, throwing the phrase he’d used in his fight with Sam back at him. 

He half-chuckled but was still clearly annoyed.

“See? Not so good of a reason, is it?”

Dean barely gave you time to finish your remark before he was speaking up again. “Why do you even care?” 

“Because I care about you and Sam. And I have to share a car with you two for the foreseeable future. I’d rather you not wanna kill each other until the end of the line,” you jested, putting the jar of lotion on the nightstand next to you. 

Dean lounged against the pillow with his head propped up on the crook of his elbow on the headboard. You shifted yourself to where you were sitting cross-legged next to his hips, facing him. 

“Hey, I don’t wanna keep talking about this every day of our lives till you get dragged to Hell—”

“Good,” he cut you off gruffly, “me neither.”

“—but I’m also not gonna pretend like these discussions aren’t important. I need you to be honest with me and yourself. You are scared of going, and that’s okay—”

“Oh, god—” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Hey,” you said, pushing his chin back towards you. “I wasn’t done. But I need you to be honest with me, or this doesn’t work.” You gestured between the two of you as you spoke. “I don’t need you to be tough all the time. I just need you to keep it real with me.”

“What difference does it make? I still go to Hell when this is over anyway,” Dean replied. 

“But maybe you’d be able to enjoy living a little bit more if you’d just let me in,” you said, cupping his cheek. 

Dean thought for a moment before he kissed the inside of your palm. “You’re right,” was all he could say. 

“I know I am,” you smirked. 

He rolled his eyes at you, but there was genuine amusement behind them. 

***

That night, you didn’t get much sleep. You stayed awake listening to the police scanner and stroking Dean’s hair as he slept soundly beside you. The police scanner held the least of your attention between the two, though. This was another one of those memories you’d hold near and dear to your heart when Dean was gone. 

Around five in the morning, the scanner finally caught your attention. Static, frantic ramblings exchanged discussing a woman that had been found staggering around coming from the woods. When deputies went with her back to the scene, they found a house where the woman’s former hiking partner and their attacker, an old woman, lay dead in the kitchen. 

You hated to wake up the man with his arms wrapped around your hips, but you knew you needed to get to the hospital the victim was being rushed to and interview her. 

“Dean,” you said softly, running your hand through his hair. “Dean.”

He hummed against your hip, tightening his hold of you. You smiled but continued to try and wake him. 

“Dean, c’mon.”

“Hmm,” he grumbled, “what time is it?”

“I’m not even gonna tell you, ‘cause you’ll kill me,” you joked, ruffling his hair. 

He lightly shoved your hand away from his head and returned his strong arms to their original positioning around you. 

“Dean! C’mon; we gotta get to the hospital. Somethin’ came in on the scanner,” you told him. 

“Can it wait till seven?” he asked you. 

“No.” You tried to wiggle out of his arms to move to the bathroom. He refused to let go of you, though, despite your protests through giggles. “C’mon, dude. We gotta get goin’. I gotta go get Sammy.”

“Ugh, fine,” he grumbled, pressing a kiss to your bare hip. 

Goosebumps formed under his lips, and you took in a sharp breath. “Okay, okay, get off me,” you said, gently pushing his arms away from you. 

***

When you arrived at the hospital, you talked to the witness who said she and her hiking partner had been drugged by an old woman who poisoned a pie she fed them. 

Interestingly enough, she also mentioned seeing a little girl with dark hair and pale skin in the window outside the home. 

Naturally, you and the Winchesters went to investigate the house. 

You took in your wooded surroundings and the strange house sitting in the middle of nowhere. You went into the house with Sam and noted the EMF meter in his hand beeping frantically. 

“(Y/N), I’m thinking you may be right about the whole fairytale thing,” Sam said. 

“Dude, I was kidding—”

“Yeah, but I’m not,” he replied. “A guy and a girl? Hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat 'em? That's Hansel and Gretel. And, like you said, those three brothers arguing over how to build houses, attacked by the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Like the Grimm Brothers,” you realized. “Sex, violence, cannibalism; a child’s guide to fucked-up folklore.”

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Now, it got sanitized over the years; turned into Disney flicks and bedtime stories.”

“So, why would the ghost be doing a reenactment?” you wondered aloud. “The creepy girl? Pale skin and dark hair sounds like Snow White.”

“You’re right, it does,” Sam said. “But it’s weird that she’s in the middle of another fairytale. But I’m willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too.”

“Dean’s gonna be thrilled. It’s research time,” you snickered.

Sam grinned at you, and the two of you went outside to inform the other brother of your musings. 

***

However, your research came up empty. There had been very few violent childhood deaths in the area, and none of them involved a girl with black hair and pale skin. 

Dean led you and his brother across the street from the library into the park. 

“You wanna know how many little girls with black hair and pale skin that have gone missing?” Dean didn’t give you a chance to respond. “Right again. Zip. zilch, nada. Tell me you've got something good 'cause I've totally wasted the last six hours.”

Sam snorted. “Well, you ever hear of Lillian Bailey? She was a British medium from the 1930s.”

“She got a thing for fairy tales?” Dean questioned.

“Nah, trances. See she'd go into these unconscious states where, uhm, get this, her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits,” the younger brother explained.

“A ghost puppet master,” Dean nodded. 

You rolled your eyes. “In layman’s terms, sure.”

“Think that's what this kid is doing? Sending wolfboy and grandma into trances, making them go kill-crazy?” Dean’s brow furrowed. 

The brunet shrugged. “Could be. You know, kinda like uh, uh, spirit hypnosis or somethin'.”

“Trances I get, but fairytale trances? That's bizarre even for us,” Dean sighed. 

You quickly grabbed Dean’s arm to keep him from stepping on a bullfrog sitting in your path, croaking. 

“Yeah, you're right. That's completely normal,” Sam remarked, looking down at the frog.

“Alright, maybe it is fairytales. Totally messed-up fairytales. Wanna kiss the frog, princess?” Dean looked over at you smirking.

“Fuck no,” you grimaced. You turned to see a pumpkin sitting on the porch of a home. “Huh,” you said. 

“Yeah? It's close to Halloween,” Dean shrugged. 

“No, dude, Cinderella,” you continued. “Pumpkin turns into a coach, and the mice become horses.”

Dean chuckled. 

“What?” you asked.

“I dunno, just never pegged you for the fairytale type. You’re a little rough around the edges compared to the Disney princesses.”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” you joked, “but I was a little girl once; y’know that, right?” You picked the lock on the house and led the brothers inside. 

It was completely quiet, and you and the Winchesters wordlessly decided to split up. 

You moved toward the kitchen, and someone inside apparently heard you. 

“Help! I'm in here!” a voice called. 

“Shh, shh, hey!” you said, rushing into the kitchen. There was a teenage girl handcuffed to the oven. You immediately set to work picking the lock on the cuffs. “It’s okay, I got you,” you told her. 

The girl was crying, and her blonde hair was a complete mess. “You have to help me. She's a lunatic.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

“My step mom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me. Chained me up,” she explained, sniffling.

“Where is she now?” you asked. 

“I don't know.”

You looked up at a shadow behind you to see the little girl with dark hair peeking out from behind the kitchen door. When she noticed you saw her, she turned and left. 

You turned back to the teenager and told her you’d be right back, and she nodded. 

You walked into the living room, and the little girl was gone. 

Discouraged, you turned around to go back to the kitchen. Surprisingly, the girl was standing just behind you. 

“Who are you?” you asked. 

She said nothing, simply looking at you with sad eyes, and then she disappeared again. You looked down where she stood to find a red apple. “Hi, Snow.”

***

You sat on the hood of the Impala next to Dean, who played with the apple. Sam headed up to you with his hands in his pockets. “Paramedics picked up Cinderella,” he said. 

“That's good,” Dean said. He tossed the apple to Sam. 

“So, looks like my Snow White theory checks out,” you noted. 

“Snow White? Ah, I saw that movie. Or the porn version anyway; 'cause there was this wicked stepmother? Woo, she was wicked,” Dean grinned. 

You lightly slapped his shoulder and gave a warning glare. “There is an evil stepmother. And she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple. But the apple doesn’t kill her; she just falls into a deep sleep. So it’s like she’s dead.”

Sam tossed the apple to you, and you took out your knife. You sliced a piece of the apple off, and the apple began to ooze an acid-like fluid into your hand. You threw it to the ground, mumbling, “Gross.”

***

Once back at the hospital, the nurse informed you there were no comatose little girls. All of their comatose patients were either old men or Callie, who was around sixteen years old. 

“Yeah, it's so sad,” the nurse explained. “And poor Dr. Garrison, he just… won't give up on her.”

“Is Callie one of his patients?” Sam asked. 

She shook her head. “No. His daughter.”

Exchanging a brief glance with Sam, you and the Winchesters politely thanked the nurse before heading to Callie’s room. Sadly, you looked on as Dr. Garrison read a book to his daughter. 

Squinting at the book, you were able to make out the book he was reading to her was Little Red Riding Hood.

Dr. Garrison then noticed you were there and stepped outside the room to talk to you. “Detectives. Can I help you?”

“We just... heard that Callie is your daughter,” Dean said.

“And we wanted to say how very sorry we are,” Sam finished. 

Dr. Garrison cleared his throat. “Well, uh. Thank you. If you'll excuse me.”

“Oh, heading this way?” Dean quirked a brow. “We'll walk with you. How long's Callie been like that?”

“We don't mean to intrude,” you clarified. 

“We can't possibly understand how hard it must be for you seeing her like this,” Sam added. 

The doctor sighed. “It's not easy. She's uh, been here since she was eight years old.”

“That's when she was poisoned?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah. Swallowed, uh, bleach,” he explained. “Never figured out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, uh, brought her to the ER here and I was on call.”

“Your wife was uh, was that Callie's stepmother?” Dean asked. 

Dr. Garrison stopped walking and looked at Dean strangely. “Actually, yes. How'd you know that?”

The older brother shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Well, Julie was the only mother that uh, Callie ever knew. My wife passed away last year and, uh… it's just my daughter and me now.” He paused for a moment, becoming quite choked up. “She's all I've got left. Um, excuse me. I've gotta get back to work.”

You watched as the doctor moved down the hall, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. 

Sam tapped you to turn you around and led you and Dean back down the hall. 

“Well, you're right. It's Snow White in spades,” Dean said to you. “Yep. Step-mom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep. What's the motive, you think?” 

“Could be like Mischa Barton. Sixth Sense, not the O.C.,” Dean corrected himself.

Sam seemed confused. “What?”

“Hey, you know fairy tales, I know movies,” Dean commented. “She played the pasty ghost. You know the, uh, remember the mom had that thing you know, where you keep the kid sick so you get all the attention?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, uh, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. Huh, could be.”

“So, say all these years, Callie's been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what mommy dearest did?”

“And after all this time her spirit just gets angrier and angrier, until it finally just starts lashing out.”

“I’d be pretty pissed to if I was sixteen and still having to listen to my dad read me fuckin’ fairytales,” you added. “It's enough to drive anybody nuts.”

“Okay, but how are we gonna stop her?” Sam questioned. “I mean, Callie's stuck here; her father's keeping her body alive.”

“It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones,” Dean mumbled.

“Ya think?” you deadpanned. 

“Coming in!” Someone called from the double doors across the hall from you. You watched as EMTs rushed an old woman in on a stretcher. “Seventy-two year old female, sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is eighty over forty and falling. Sinus tachycardia.”

“Is that a bite?” a doctor asked. 

“Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or, maybe a wolf?”

“What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?” Dean asked rhetorically. 

You answered anyway. “Good ole Little Red.”

***

The three of you hung around asking the EMTs and policemen that had responded to the scene questions after the grandmother had been pronounced dead. You found out from the policemen that the woman had a granddaughter. 

“I’ll stay here,” you told the boys in a hushed voice. “You two go stop the Big Bad Wolf.” You handed the paper with the address of the granddaughter’s home on it over to Dean, who nodded. 

“What about you?” Sam asked. 

“I’m gonna try to stop Callie,” you said. 

Both boys seemed to understand what you meant, even though you weren’t quite sure how to handle this properly yourself. 

You immediately set to work searching the corridors for Dr. Garrison. Finally, you found him. “Hi! I need to speak with you,” you announced, approaching him. 

“Detective. What can I do for you?” he asked. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, but it’s about Callie,” you said sheepishly. 

“My daughter? What about her?” The doctor furrowed his brows at you. 

“What happened to Callie wasn’t an accident,” you explained. “And Callie’s been trying to tell you that.”

“I don’t have time for this. Stay the hell away from me and my daughter.” Dr. Garrison stormed away from you and toward Callie’s room. 

You followed, hot on his heels. “Think about it, man, how’d she get her hands on the bleach? Why would she drink so much of something like that?” You slipped into the room behind the doctor as he reached for the phone on the wall. 

“I’m calling security.”

You clamped your hand over the phone to stop him. “Nope. You’re smart. Think about it. If you don’t listen to me, Callie’s gonna hurt somebody else.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” the doctor cried. 

“You're gonna think I'm crazy,” you sighed, “but just understand me. Your daughter Callie is still here. She's a spirit.”

Dr. Garrison’s panic suddenly calmed, and he turned to his daughter’s bed sadly. “So you've seen her too.”

You were shocked. “Wait, you called me a lunatic, and you’ve been seeing her, too?”

“I sensed her,” Dr. Garrison sniffed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Callie. Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at the foot of my bed but I never believed it, I thought I was dreaming, I—” 

You shook your head. “Not a dream. She looks like she did when she was eight, right? She’s been trying to talk to you.” Dr. Garrison sighed. “You're not a cop are you?”

You shook your head again, pursing your lips together. 

“Then, who are you?”

“Meh, I know a thing or two about this stuff,” you shrugged. “And I also know that your wife was the one to do this to Callie.”

“And how the hell would you know that?!”

“Because Callie told me,” you replied simply. “What?!” Dr. Garrison exclaimed. “My wife loved Callie. So how is— how is that possible?”

“I don’t know. But it is,” you said. 

He got up from the bed and began to pace. “No. No I— I don't believe you.”

“Look, dude, believe whatever you want. But your daughter’s pissed. And rightfully so. Nobody’s listening to her. Listen to your damn daughter.”

Dr. Garrison took a deep breath, then nodded. “Callie? Callie, it's Daddy,” he called into the room. “It's me, Daddy. Is it true? Mommy did that to you? I–I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now. Daddy's here. Please honey, is– is there any way that you can tell me?” 

The doctor looked back at you, and you nodded to the space beside him where Callie’s spirit stood.

Dr. Garrison turned, and tears immediately flooded his eyes at the sight of his child. “Is it true?”

Callie’s spirit nodded.

“Oh— I'm so sorry, baby. But listen to me,” Dr. Garrison begged through his tears. “You gotta stop what you're doing, okay? You're hurting people. I know everything now. I know the truth. It's time for you to let go. It's time for me to let you go.” He turned back to the body in the hospital bed. The doctor leaned down to the girl and caressed her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he cried. 

Callie’s monitor flatlined. 

***

That night, as Dean slept soundly in your shared bed, you were sat at the table by the window; the journal in front of you only illuminated by the moonlight. 

You paperclipped the sketch you’d done for the surviving construction worker of the man who’d attacked him and his brothers into your journal next to the spot where you wrote your latest excerpt. 

“As much as I hate to admit it,” you inked, “some part of me believes everything happens for a reason. I’m not big on the whole ‘faith’ thing, but I’ve always thought that. And I can’t help but wonder if Callie’s case is, like, some sort of astral allegory to my situation with Dean. Maybe I’m supposed to let him go. Maybe he was just supposed to be with me for a short time, and I’m supposed to just move on.

“And that fucking sucks. And I can’t accept that. It’s weird; a lot of the cases I work parallel my actual life. And I frequently try to ignore that fact. But this one is really just beating me over the head with possible ‘hidden meaning.’ 

“But then, I think, if everything happens for a reason, and nothing is coincidence, then somebody’s gotta be pulling the strings here, right? Some sort of fucked-up cosmic being is using my life for his twisted entertainment. It’s using Dean going to hell for the sake of a good fucking storyline or something stupid like that. I don’t understand. I thought ‘god’s plan’ was supposed to be good? I thought he had ‘intentions to prosper us, never to harm us’?

“Anyway. I feel like I’ve thoroughly hashed out my feelings on religion too many times before. At this point, I’m completely over the concept of god. If he is real, I hope he fucking chokes.”

You put your pen down when a blinding light abruptly hit the corner of your eye. You opened the curtains a little more to see the Impala beginning to move out of the parking lot. 

Sam had driven you and Dean back from the hospital, and he brought the keys with him to his room. You assumed that was no accident. 

“What are you doing, Samuel,” you muttered, staring after the car.

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[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA Insert

Chapter: 14

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

Disclaimer: B/n = birth name

…

I once again repeated the question I've asked Five three times already. “What did you do?” But again, it was to no avail.

“Your questions will be answered in time Number Zero, but for now pick up the pace!” Said the woman with an unusual, cheery voice. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to piss me off by calling me that, but I had a feeling she was. I stopped thinking for a second and took a look at her. Her attitude was very snarky, and she was strangely dressed, but who am I to judge?

With her platinum, gray hair and posh walk, I knew she had to be the leader of whatever hellish organization Five deserted.

Which led me to think of more questions. Where are we? Why am I here? What happened to the others? Did these people cause the end of time? And then the one question still left on my mind, who is the girl I said would end the world..?

As I thought about it, the woman started talking to Five, and I walked behind them like some servant. We were walking fast and away from the place where I first landed on the grass. Going towards a large gray block building with a plethora of people walking in and out open. They held briefcases and chatted like this was a normal occurrence.

They were all dressed in a similar fashion in old outfits you used to see in magazines from a different decade. It was obvious to me now that we were in the past. And as people passed us, they greeted her with a sense of priority. They called her The Handler, the name so unimportant that I’d forgotten Five told me earlier.

“I must admit Number Five, in all the time I’ve been here I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” The Handler’s praise was off-putting to me, and I could tell it was off-putting to him as well. “Hazel and Cha-Cha, for example, are talented, certainly, but.. they can’t see the big picture. Your spunk, your enterprising spirit, well, remind me a great deal of myself, if I may be so vainglorious.” She wrapped her black coat-covered arm around his shoulder as she spoke almost like a mother but creepy.

This was all getting very tiresome. I had half the mind to say “You guys know I’m here, right?” And I guess I ended up saying that because she turned to me. As well as Five who had a blank expression on his face.

“And you, my dear, I believe you are the key!”

My confusion could be felt around the area. “The key to what.”

“With your unique skill set the two of you could be, how do I say this? Unstoppable.” She finished with a whisper. My head started to spin at her words as I opened my mouth to protest her words, sadly no one responded.

I started to feel a sort of hatred towards five. He drags me through yet another thing just because I survived the apocalypse and gives me no explanation. Why can’t anything ever be simple? Why can’t we ever just communicate?

As we entered the building, the layout made my nerves skyrocket. It was very claustrophobic. There was a spiral staircase, where workers upon workers would travel up and down. And there I was out of place when Five seemed to just fit right in.

“You know if things work out for you here you could potentially make a fine successor, Five.” Still, there was no mention of me. The Handler shed her silk coat to reveal a sleek black gown with several different red designs. A perfect gown for an unhinged woman.

The people around us stared at me and whispered good things from what I heard, but it was a scary thought to be the center of attention. Even though the actual people's attention I wanted were too focused on each other.

“I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family's safety at your earliest convenience. as well as this body replacement.” Five said in an almost robotic tone.

She laughed. “Such chutzpah! It’s refreshing I’ll admit. Slow down five. all in good time.” The Handler continued speaking when we reached the top of the staircase. “Now that you two have agreed to work with us. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

I stopped. I froze. Whatever I did. They seemed to notice that I ceased moving. The last thing she said didn’t make any sense to me. “Stop it, just stop this. Look, I didn't agree to do anything. I don’t know why I'm here. I can't get a straight answer. I rejected your company once so why do you think you can just have me now?” I raised my voice, which caused workers to stop and stare.

All The Handler did was smile, she did not react to what I had to say. She looked at a worker nearby, and he left and reappeared with some woman. She was tall, and her hair was kept old-fashioned in an updo. She carried a book in her arms. “Dot.”

“Yes?” Dot spoke with a sweet tone.

“Would you please show Number Five where his new headquarters is?”

“Of course!” She ushered for Five to follow her but before he left he gave me one last glance, I couldn’t even look at his eyes though. Once he left I thought for sure I was dead. I offended her and this is the end unless I fight my way out of this.

The handler looked at me, almost like she was sizing me up. “Walk with me,” she said softly. The anger I expected was nowhere on her face. She looked almost happy, something that felt out of place in a building like this.

..

We walked in silence for a bit as she led me down the hall. “What is your goal in life, Number Zero?”

“Y/n, my name is Y/n.”

“I’m sorry. What is your goal in life, Y/n?”

My mind went back to the conversation I had with Vanya, about feeling stuck. I have nothing to say to her because I don’t have a goal in life. I spend every day trying to just get past it so I can see the next morning. Except for when I hang out with Klaus and now when I’m running around trying to help solve the apocalypse.

I say nothing back.

"That's all right dear that’s why we’re here.” She shoots a caring look at my sad face.

But then I go from pitying myself to remembering I’m basically being held captive. I need to remind myself that I need to get out of here. “What do you guys want from me?” I said, plainly.

The Handler looks a little bit annoyed before answering. “We want you to reach your full potential.”

I scoff. “And what is that?”

We stop at a door. “Before I answer, would it be easier to talk sitting down? Let’s go into my office.” I only nod at her. Whatever gets me more answers I guess. As soon as I entered the room, I was filled with an immediate sense of dread. The room itself was fine, almost every wall was covered in bookshelves, it almost made me forget that this was an office and not a library.

Her desk was large, as large as her personality. It was neat, yet unorganized with a bunch of things on it. She quickly sat down in her spinny chair as I looked around the room.

“You’re a fan of books, right? You could read anything you want in here.”

I turn my head towards her. “I never told you that.” I snap.

But she ignores me. “I have all the greats, dating back from Shakespearean times, I’m a bit of a collector as you could see.” She giggles.

I once again had to refocus myself as I sat down in the chair directly in front of her.

“Right to the point I see, well I’ll try to be quick. We have other tasks to do together.” She grabs the glass of water on her desk and takes a big gulp before getting started.

“The truth is Number Zero, we’ve been watching you even before the apocalypse date. The Umbrella Academy itself is a bit of a local celebrity to us. But you in particular could make this place so much better.. We need people like you, not only for your powers of regeneration but your mindset. Back when you were a child, you used to be a killing machine. I mean nothing Sir Reginald made you do would phase you!” My face dropped as she went on.

“As you can tell, I run a tight operation here and just between you and me some of these people are emotional, but if we had more soldiers like you.. well, let’s just say there wouldn’t be any desertion.”

“So what do you say? Come work for us? Of course, you get all the benefits. Health care, not that you need it. Housing, meals every day, hell, I’ll even throw in a new job title. How would you like to be the head of the department?” She was practically buzzing with excitement that I would say yes to this horrible agreement.

As I listened to her words I started picking my skin on my fingers, and it started to be very hard to breathe. She wants me to do the thing I ran away from? No. I can’t go back.

“Y/n?” She calls out.

My lungs felt on fire.

“Y/n? Darling”

My head was spinning.

“Speak to me.”

My eyes were darting around the room.

“We can do this together.”

My ears are ringing.

I think I was having a panic attack.

I was so sick and tired of the false comfort I was getting. I was tired of five. I was tired of thinking of Ben. I was tired of thinking of the apocalypse. So many things were circling my mind, so many people needed me to help them

I needed to look out for Klaus. I needed to look out for Diego. Where is my comfort? Who is looking out for me? I can’t be on my own. At first, I thought that person was Ben but then I lost him too. I need someone. And then I thought it was with him. I needed someone to fall back on but now he’s gone. And it was all my fault.

I opened my mouth, but only shrieks and whispers came out. The handler looked dazed, almost thrilled that I was freaking out.

“No..�� I whispered.

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“You can’t put me back there. I can’t do this again.” My throat let out an awful voice crack. “I’m not a soldier, I’m a person. I will never be a soldier not again doesn’t matter if it’s for you or if it’s for the greater good, I was already lied to about that once. My answer is no.” I glared at her.

I whispered, “And if you don’t get me home. I will stop every organ in your body from working, don't test me. I’ve done it before.”

She smirked. “Trust me, I know you have. That's why I know you won’t do it to me. No. I remind you too much of your mother, the woman who gave you away. That’s why you were staring at me so hard and also my pretty dress, just like hers. Lovely isn’t it?”

“That's not true!” I yelled.

“I know everything about you, B/n. That’s the name, isn't it? The one your mother gave you? You were such a cute kid.”

B/n? Who's that?

There's no way I'd forget my own name.

“No matter how much you try to trick me I won’t do it.” I cried out.

She slammed her hands on her desk, while never breaking her smile.“I don’t need to trick you. This is what you want. You want purpose, after you left Reginald there was no one to tell you what to do, that was until you found your boyfriend and after he left, sorry! Let’s not lie, we both know he didn’t leave.”

“You know, you and Five just have to be related, you're the same person. You two both need purpose and I can give it to you here!”

The happy woman had disappeared. Now I am seeing her true nature; she's conniving she only wants power. She wants my power.

“Excuse me, I am a fan of the dramatics. I don’t know why we're even doing this. You have to do this.

My stare falters. “What?”

“In order for some sort of sanctuary from the apocalypse, which we both know will never work. Five promised the both of you two to work here, to save your glorious family.”

“Fuck you! That’s not true.” I stand up from my chair.

“Go ask him yourself. I'm not holding you hostage in this room. Or better yet check my body, if I'm lying my heartbeat should falter or something like that?” She sips more water.

I try my best to find a lie in her senses, but she’s telling the truth. “You're right.” I gasp.

She grins. “Honestly that is just astounding. Your powers are amazing. This is exactly why we need you!” She claps her hands.

I don’t feel the same sentiment. My brother, adopted or not, is going to force me to work here away from my home, away from my semblance of reality for an apocalypse we probably can’t beat for the apocalypse, where I am the only one destined to live by myself forever away from my world. Why am I always destined to hurt?

“All right, enough of that, come now we need to get your uniform. I hope you’re okay with a suit after all that’s what everyone wears. And oh! I can get your first assignment. This is going to be wonderful. I see a future for us, together.” The Handler gushes

She stands up and walks to the door. “Are you coming? Number Zero.”

This will never be over. I don’t know why I followed her. My body moved on its own following its commands, like it always has.

She led me to the suit department of the commission, where a man and his late fifties worked. He looked at me with some bit of sorrow, but I just looked at the floor as the handler told him my measurements. Which she knew, I’m guessing from watching me.

..

She then pushed me into the bathroom and told me to get changed. I slowly put on the uniform, shedding myself off my normal clothes the last bit that made me, me. I walked out of the bathroom like a zombie.

“If it’s perfectly my, you're quite beautiful in a suit. One last thing, though I’m sorry your hair is amazing, but is sadly against the code. If you’re working, your hair needs to be up in a ponytail. Once you do that you’ll be done.”

She waits for me and expects me to do it myself, but I stare at my reflection in the mirror just like I have so many times before. “I can’t.”

“Oh! That’s my fault. I almost forgot.”

She grabs a brush from her dress pocket and does my hair for me. When she’s done she looks at her work. I look like I’m back in the Academy because it's the same way Gracie used to do my hair. This sick fuck probably memorized it.

I try to bite back my sobs, The Handler’s pale hand, holds onto the side of my face.

“Perfect.”

...

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@water-hemlock18

@tialovesyoutoo

@bunnychano3o

@rockyeatrock

[mrsmiagreer]

Favorite Redacted quotes but the list gets longer everytime I find a new one

“And the energizer bunny…Takes a tumble” -Milo

“Is this why you put up with my memes and shit? Because i gotta big dick and a great ass??” - Guy

“WHAT ECHO?!” — ALL OF REDACTED aka echo

“Do you love me?” — Imp!Damien

“Keep his name out of your FUCKING mouth” -Sam

“Laying in comfortable silence, hands roaming lazily betwixt our supine bodies, tracing gentle patterns across supple skin…Yes that was all about my eyes😂” — Guy

“This isn’t like a dog or something. Like normal wolves are big. Shifter wolves are even bigger…and i’m on the bigger end of that too” -David

“Is David being a total groomzilla about your side? Oop— Heard that-” Asher

“But I bet I’d lay down for it” — Vincent

“Make it two” —Sam

“Great deal on a large sausage” —Guy

“Will you marry me, Angel?” —David

“….Isn’t that right??” “Heyyy no tickling!!” — Gavin and Caelum

“No not just yes…say the words…say the whole thing” —Vincent

“Ohh— You are getting close! Hi! Hi baby….I love youuu” —Guy

“We are NOT matching. I am wearing my work clothes, YOU’RE wearing contraband” — David

“someone please get the gentleman a door prize”— Blake

“I was thinking a little less nature documentary and little more battle bots you know like i want you to just fucking SNAP me like a twig😭” -Guy

“No! You can’t tell me I taste good >:(” — Lasko

“Who are you and what have you done with my lover??” — Guy

“I know baby I know” — Milo

“Staaapppp you’re being rude… Yes RUDE you heard me!” —Guy

“…..do it— hmmmMmMmMmm okay okay….That had a little less finesse than i’m used to” —Milo

“You know what wordplay reminds me of? Tounge twisters!! And you know what tongue twisters remind me of? Tongue kissing!! Let’s explore that topic shall we?” —Guy

“The goal is healin me, you can’t be hittin me at the same time” —Milo

“Show me that wagon ya draggin sexy uehh” -Guy

“Who’s that bitch we hate?” — Asher

“Any hole is a goal” — Guy

“Just move your ass…..hmm i didn’t mean to move it quite like that but you’ll get no complaints outta me” —David

“My mouth is good for a lot more than just…talkin” —Milo

“It’s our bedroom….It’s our bed” —Geordi

“Hey Baaaaabyy” —Ollie

“I’ve sat with these feelings long enough to know how to manage them I promise” —Blake

“Call me that one more time and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow” —David

“I cant be another mistake…because it’ll break me” —Blake

“I’m sure seeing him is like….like those healing classes. A nice diversion😊” —President Moore

“Milo…play nice” — Imp!Asher

“You don’t have to order anyone to do it…Just take volunteers” — Imp!Milo

“I just set my fucking curtains on fire” -Damien

“Who taught you how to do healing magic?? A construction worker with a jackhammer?!” —Milo

“You’re taking me so fucking good” —Milo

“I’m trying to get off of you…I don’t wanna crush you” —David

“Awe yeah i often walk into work with shotgun shells in my fucking brief case” —Milo

“I cant read your mind baby” — Vincent

“Welcome home my love. How was your day?” -Gavin

“Park it on me Sweetheart” — Milo

“That does not feel like searching for a key Lovely” —Vincent

“Do i need to set this stuff down or are you gonna behave?” —Vincent

“Yeah, no thinking about work today. Or we’ll come over there and kick your ass” —Milo

“Hey…sorry i’m late” —Blake

“Do I look like i care??” —Blake

“I’m a grown ass man” —Milo

“I DON’T whimper…” —Damien

“You know what we do to…Bad Boyss around here—����💀💀” —Guy

“Did I really just get drive by kink shamed??!” —Asher

“Awweee poor baby” —Asher

“Keep it in your pants you two. I already mopped this morning😒” —David

“…boop” —Sam

“I don’t want this for you baby” —Milo

“Boot Licker” —Milo

“I’ll always find you” —Avior

“Wexler, Greer is causing problems at the west entrance” — That One Guard😭

“That wasn’t rhetorical. Answer me” —Imp!Damien

“I love you more than human words can convey” —Gavin

“Yes baby” —Gavin

“Ruth Holland are you here? Hello? Hello?” —Milo

“Fuck, bounce on my fucking dick” — Guy

“Moan. They moaned. You moaned.” — Geordi

“Pfftttt hahaha- Okay— WuHwuhWwaA—” — Guy

“This isn’t happening!!” — Ivan

“I don’t like you, and I’m not going to” — Alexis

“Hold still i’ll grab you one of mine” — Milo

“Bad. Worse. Better.” — Vincent

“Go kick that ass….champ? Oh God-” — Lasko

“No can do baby” -Huxley

“I’m just fucking with you” — Sam Collins

“I needa stop saying fuck. Fuck. Sorry. And i needa stop saying sorry. fuck. sorry. FUCK i mean FUCK so— oh fuck😭 Oh my god i am such an idiot” — Lasko

“I wanna touch” — Stranger/Caller/John..?

“Fuck! Fuck me—” — Lasko Moore

“Can I cum on you?” — Milo Greer

“I am not gonna have ants runnin round my house cause of you😭” — Sam Collins

“It is not funny, you FUCK” — Milo Greer

“I’ll spank your ass brat. Not like it’d be the first time. Or the last.” — Milo Greer

“You’ll be safe” — Blake

“Well of course it’s gaudy. I made it” — Gavin

“Shit Darlin. You really weren’t gonna say anything about this?” — Sam Collins

“It’s all good” — Huxley

“I hate to make a guy lose his fuckin’ noodles” — Milo Greer

“Where do you want these fangs baby?” — Sam Collins

“Do you have any idea just how much energy is coming off of you right now?” — Fool!Gavin

“Sorry” —Fool!James

“I gotta go faster before i start…fucking…crying or something😭” — Asher

“Moan for me baby” — Milo Rebane

“I’m still so hard omg…I think I can cum again” —Asher

“Because we’re going on a hike, baby” — Damien

“You want my body, you want my cooperation, then you let me have this. you let me have them” — Blake

“Blink twice if you need help buddy” — Asher Talbot

(I will be updating this list when i find/remember new ones😊)

[actuallysaiyan]

|Come Down And Waste Away With Me| Chapter One: I Am Here.

warnings: angst, mentions of death, set during the final war arc, mentions of alcohol, very heavy and dark themes, mentions of wounds, driving under the influence, self-deprecation, hospital stay, Reader has a quirk and a hero name pairings: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Disgraced Hero!Reader summary: the last time you saw Valorie was when the car had flipped and you were seeing her lose her life. while in the hospital during the end of the final war, you begin to lose hope that you're even cut out to be a good person. someone hears your cries for help, and he shows you a light.

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @cherryblossombankai

masterlist

In the year 20xx…

Here we are at the scene of the crime. Last night was the tragic car accident that took the life of Spectral Valor, also known as Valorie Teagan, and left about half a dozen others injured. What was speculated as foul play at first ended up being corrected as driving under the influence. Also in the vehicle with Spectral Valor was the electrokinetic hero known as Haywire. More details at six…

“You could have died!” A voice yells at you through your drunken stupor.

Here you rest in your hospital bed. Wires and tubes poking and prodding and coming from your mangled body. You fractured your tibia causing you the most pain, followed by the few cracked ribs. A concussion, a few chipped teeth, a fractured tibia, three cracked ribs…

But really none of them hurt more than losing your best friend. Valorie was your glue. She was the angel that helped you shine. Even while you were becoming a hero, she was always right there with you. It hurt you to think you’d never get to see that smile again. You’d never hear her laughter again. You tried to not cry, but it was so fucking hard.

“Did you hear me, Haywire?! You could have died! I can’t deal with this shit anymore.”

It’s the voice of your manager. Why would a hero need a manager? You don’t know, but you had a feeling it had to do with all the club life you were leading. The drinking, the drugs, the week long benders you’d go on…it’s not good for a hero of your stature. Yet you were so good at hiding it. 

“Ken,” you try to say despite your throat having a lump in it. “Ken, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, kid. I promised your parents I’d take care of you, but I can’t.”

Oh yeah…Kento had been a family friend. When you lost your parents, he promised to take good care of you. You lost your parents at a young age. They had died doing what they love, saving the world.

“I promise,” you swallow hard. “I promise, I’ll do better.”

Kento sits on the edge of the bed. He runs his fingers through his sandy blond hair. He then sheds a few of his own tears, wiping them away and facing you. He presses his hand carefully on the cast that is on your left leg.

“The agency is dropping you. Or at least, that’s the gist of what I understood.”

You looked away ashamed. “Is anyone still in that building? Isn’t there a war going on?”

Kento laughs sarcastically. He explains to you that even with the war happening, and with the crumbling of society, the agency you still worked for had decided to shut its doors for the time being. Instead of healing and getting to go back to it after, you were being pushed out.

“Sorry kid, but I can’t fix this one.”

That had been three weeks ago. You got your official letter about two days after that conversation. You didn’t get many visitors in the hospital. Especially not with all the heroes coming back from the war. All For One had been defeated. Even that young kid, Shigaraki, had been defeated. Somehow you were clinging to those details as a means to cope with Valorie’s death.

Then you got your hands on a smartphone. You were able to keep up with the battle a lot better this way. Things had seemed so dire for so long. The way things could have ended made you nervous. It wracked you with guilt. You weren’t out there helping. You were just a waste of space. All you were was good for nothing. You couldn’t even contribute to the fight to save humanity and heroes alike.

Rotting in a hospital room after everything that was going on, you begin to wonder if maybe you should have died in that stupid car crash as well. You had been the one to procure the alcohol that night. You were the one who stupidly coaxed Valorie into driving back home. Things had been so bleak for heroes. Nobody trusted you. This only made you feel worse, turning to drugs and alcohol even harder to cope with this shit.

You remember the way you felt when you finally opened your eyes. Just once…just once before passing out again. Seeing her lifeless body next to you. The car had flipped multiple times. Nothing hurt at the time because of the shock, but seeing her…oh Valorie had been so beautiful.

Her life was snuffed out before it even truly began. You had wanted so desperately to start your own agency with her. That had been the plan. You two would have gone on to do such amazing things. And here you had been, looking at the lifeless body of your truest friend.

In the history of assholes, you wondered if maybe you were going to take the top spot. Nothing could make you feel any better. You hated yourself for being so weak to addiction. So weak to addiction that you couldn’t even properly contribute to the world. People were out there risking their lives to keep everyone safe, and you were partying.

And now, you were in the hospital, taking up space.

And even worse, was that you were in the same hospital as Him.

All Might.

The man, the legend, the strongest…

Call him whatever you want, but he also ended up in the same hospital as you. While you were out partying in the wreckage of Japan and getting in the fatal car accident that killed your friend, he and all the other pro heroes had been fighting the good fight. The dread and the pain you felt deep inside of you kept you from wanting anyone but your manager, Kento, to come visit.

Still, you had been curious about the extent of All Might’s injuries. After the battle in Kamino Ward, you had found out about his secret along with everyone else in the world. You still tried to cling to having him as your idol.  You tried your best to see the good in him, just like everyone else had accepted. But soon when people stopped seeing the heroes as the good guys, they started to see that their Symbol Of Peace wasn’t going to be the one to save them. Everyone else basically dropped him like yesterday’s news, but you always looked up to the man.

That’s what kept you and Valorie close. A transfer student from America, Valorie had been very interested in meeting All Might. She was a big fan of his, memorizing all the battles he had in America. The shine in her eyes is what made you become even more fanatical of the man.

She was a shining force and you lost her. You lost the one person in this world that knew you more than anyone else. She was always the one to lift you up when you truly needed it. She was the one to show you the logical way of things.

But times were tough. People started to distrust the heroes. They didn’t want heroes to come help. Even prior to that, you and Valorie had enjoyed the fame and fortune that came with being pro heroes. You had indulged in all sorts of things from time to time, but you never thought you’d get to the point you were now.

You were clinging to anything in a way of coping with this. With the fighting going on outside, you hadn’t been sure if Valorie even got a proper funeral. It didn’t matter, you thought to yourself, because you weren’t going to be able to go. You were confined to this hospital bed for some time.

And with that came the change of rooms…

It all happened so fast. One day you were in a room by yourself, the next day you were being wheeled into another room. The curtains had been drawn around the other occupant in this room. As nosy as you were, you couldn’t quite just get out of bed and find out who it was. Still, you could tell that whoever it was, they were in worse shape than you were.

Lots of rooms were going to be pretty full now. The beds would be needed for those who actually put their lives on the line. Unlike you, the waste of space. You cried often, trying to hide it from your roommate. You tried to desperately keep your sobs low. Thankfully, whoever was in this room with you was often sleeping.

You longed to be able to walk again. The doctors said it would be a while before you were up and doing that. But you hadn’t lost the use of your leg. You’d be going through lots of extended physical therapy to go along with the rehabilitation and emotional therapy you’d be going through as well.

Crying had been the soothing balm at first, but the less Kento came to visit you, the lonelier you got. You heard all kinds of things from the hallways. The news that the doctors would give you had just made you feel even worse. And the one person who came to visit you that wasn’t your manager had been Valorie’s mother. She was very sympathetic with you, which truly surprised you.

Your heart felt so heavy with so much. You felt like you could burst from the amount of emotions that run through you every second. You were clinging to the sweater her mom brought you and you sniffed her scent every chance you could.

Nothing could bring her back and you knew this.

Nothing could bring back the dead.

The world could be at peace, and there was still so much hurt. So much pain would linger. The world could be rebuilt, but the pain would remain like a stain on everyone’s heart. You wondered how you and everyone else would get through this.

You wished you could take it all back…

The last moments with her keep replaying in your mind and you know you’ll never get to see that beautiful smile again. No, she won’t be there to comfort you ever again when you need her.

One night, things seemed very quiet. You were just trying to get some rest despite the fact that your body was aching. You had spent the good part of an hour just scrolling through your phone that somehow hadn’t been damaged in the car crash. The way things were going, it seemed like the world and Japan was trying to band together to get over this.

Still, you couldn’t help but go look at pictures of her. It was breaking your heart, but you needed to see her smile. The same smile that always pushed you to do your best. Even when you felt scared as a new and upcoming hero, she was there to guide you through it all even though she was just as scared as you.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you tried so hard to quiet your sobs. It had been a few days now that you were in the new room and you were sure that whoever your new roommate was would probably grow tired of your constant crying. Doesn’t matter what’s going on in the world, whoever was trying to heal next to your bed would find you annoying.

In reality, the person in the bed next to yours was sleeping most of the time. Tonight was the first time he heard your cries. It pained his heart more than he’d like to admit. He had been in so much pain, but so happy to know the outcome of the battle. He had worked so hard to make sure things would go the way he desperately hoped for.

And now with hearing you cry, his heart clenched in his chest. These were the tears of a lost someone. When he had been first admitted to the hospital, they had told him that he’d be in the same room as you. He barely knew you, but he had heard of the electrokinetic hero Haywire. He knew what had happened, and he did not think any less of you.

Finally, the curtain is pulled back from the bed and you gasp when you see the older man in his bed. You try to wipe away your tears, but it’s obvious you’ve been crying. He looks at you and gives you his best smile, even while in a sorry state himself.

“Don’t cry,” he says. “I am here.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

finally, it's out! if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just comment or inbox or message me!

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 9

don’t look back. remember? this is all we need.

if we kiss, you’ll be healed.

it’s not real. you just need someone to save.

could you at least wait until i’m gone?

everyone’s scared of something.

words just kind of fall out of my mouth sometimes.

it’s hot, sexy, heroic.

i took the blame to protect you.

this whole time, i’ve been trying to prove myself. prove that i belong. that i’m tough enough, strong enough. 

i care about you so much, but it just doesn’t feel the same as it used to.

by the way, now would be an excellent time to have a reliable therapist.

if even one person sees you, you don’t count as invisible anymore.

i give, like, a huge fuck. i give the biggest fuck.

i know we’re family.

i’m actually dealing with life or death things right now.

do you think i wanna be like this?

i suffer from anxiety and dread.

you have no idea what i’ve given up to protect you.

i will never find a new you.

i’d give you anything, because i love you.

if you’re in that much of a hurry to fucking die, you should just go and do it.

the second we stop looking for answers, that’s when we lose. 

we could’ve died. there’s no way we could’ve survived that.

i don’t wanna find out who i am without you.

we could be anywhere, i mean we could be here, we could be there, we could be anywhere in the world, but it would not matter, because you are my home. and i would really like to be yours.

you’re pretty when you smile.

maybe nothing’s ever gone.

i have to remind myself to breathe sometimes.

who doesn’t want easy? who doesn’t want to just fucking be okay?

i’ve never been more scared before. i’ve also never felt more alive.

being ready and being nervous aren’t mutually exclusive.

i respect you. you don’t take shit from anyone, including me. which is very cool.

i didn’t think you’d be the type to be into sharing your feelings.

when we had sex, it didn’t mean anything. it was a mistake.

a final girl must have a high threshold for pain.

i lost my mind for a couple of days. it just felt good to have a distraction. 

whenever i see some filth, i think of you.

the universe decided to drop a reminder of my greatest failure on my doorstep.

always focusing on someone else’s problem makes it easier to ignore your own.

i always knew that there was a part of you that i could never touch.

the best that i could do was love you and hope that that was enough to keep you here.

i’ve only ever done my best to save lives.

do not talk to me about pain.

it’s broken. i’m broken. and i can’t fix it.

you said we were a family. you lied. 

i’d play the hero ten times over if it meant being here with all of you.

so, as it turns out, my life is wherever you are.

try to concentrate on everything you have waiting for you when you get out of here.

you have someone waiting for you. i do not.

yeah i fucked up, but i did it my way.

it’s real, and i’m fucking terrified.

i’m doing way worse than sending nudes.

i can just radically accept that my mom is a cunt.

i’m like obsessed with being cool and popular. it’s fucking pathetic.

i think shitty things keep happening because i’ve been a self-centered asshole.

she’s mean to me. am i into that?

you’re just jealous because someone actually loves me.

i’ve never been this close to someone i’m not hooking up with. i just have a fucked up sense of intimacy.

you always make loving me seem like the easiest thing in the world.

it’s exhausting to lose a loved one.

she’s really great. she’s so great it scares the shit out of me.

am i being shitty? i don’t wanna be shitty.

being back in that house just reminds me i’ve always felt really, really lonely here.

talking about you ain’t making it about you.

everyone stares at me. i’m famous.

we don’t really have a great relationship just ‘cause of the whole ‘dead’ thing.

i don’t wanna be here anymore. i wanna be where you are.

so you’re mad at me for pushing you to be better?

i wanted to be here with you, ‘cause you’re in my head.

your superpower is that you’re shameless.

it’s not the end of the world. it’s just the beginning.

i know you. you’re already making decisions out of fear.

you said you needed me.

i wanted to do it with you.

so you’re willing to lose me, too?

i uprooted my entire life for you. i put you first because i care about you. i can’t believe you won’t do that for me. you’ll never do that for me.

bullshit, you’re lonely all the fucking time. you’re gonna die that way, too.

i guess all the time i feel kind of trapped because i can’t describe how i’m feeling.

[sufferu]

A major problem I see with your dogshow and your back to zero stories is the fact that there appears to be no end to the tunnel of despair.

specifically I am talking about Subaru’s mental stability and your fascination for removing a central pillar of his mental system.

I see no other outcome for him not to suffer a complete mental collapse like he did in episode fifteen.

for your dogshow fic it is worse because both he and his “friends” saw everything that he went through and should know how much being loved through the position of being a knight is good for him.

even if they are focused on the actual issue of tossing him out to the front lines.

I personally believe that Subaru needs to be a hero/knight or something like a dog or sex toy for Emilia or else he is forced to confront the horrible reality of his friends being assholes who killed him on mere whims.

I don’t think that Subaru can ever recover from another catatonic state. The only reason why he did was because Petelguese had provoked wrath from Subaru and the spirit is no longer alive.

for back to zero it’s has a better chance of Subaru not going catatonic because it is set before the whale and witch cult, so there’s always the possibility of the whale and witch’s cult not acting like they did last time.

of course there is the problem that once they start losing one of the random soldiers would decide to kill Subaru to reset the encounter like he was the cosmic reset button.

thus why I called your story torture porn because despite your claims that it be happier for Subaru eventually, all I see is the angst without a happy ending.

I assume that you are going for a tragedy story where the characters are trying to solve problems but they can’t get past their mistakes.

however I personally believe that re zero is already a tragedy/lovecraftian-psychological horror story and that adding even more to that is needlessly cruel to everyone involved.

I don’t read a lot of tragedy but I assume that there is a through line of action that the characters can take to make everything better but don’t take it for some reason.

for your stories, I don’t see anything like this. All I see is “And things get even worse.”

seriously Subaru basically has no life lines left after Wilhelm removed Subaru from being a knight.

what is stopping him from just giving up on life after basically being disowned by everyone?

…You know what? That is a valuable outside perspective, so thank you.

But I will say: we seem to have VERY different ideas about what would be a “happy ending” in a story like this, because the ending that you just told me is one that I would less describe as “happy” and more as “full of soul-crushing despair.”

Subaru remaining a knight/hero for the rest of his natural life after everyone learns that doing so is basically sentencing him to indescribable torment for the rest of his days, purely because that is the only way he can conceive of being loved by other people — how is that HAPPY? And using it as a distraction in order to run from the realities exposed by Return By Death — how is that healthier than confronting said realities outright? If I WERE to write a tragedy, I’d likely end this story much in the way that you just described: where everything was too much to deal with and so everyone decided to remain in stasis forever while turning a blind eye to the suffering at the core of it all, Ones Who Stay In Omelas style. Tragedies aren’t really my style, though, so I AM writing towards a happy ending — though I’m not spoiling what it is, for No Refunds OR Back to Zero. (Though really, you could probably guess a good chunk of at least the former already.)

But like — without spoilers, yeah, something like this would probably break him. That doesn’t mean he has to STAY broken. Sometimes you have to re-break a bone so that it heals correctly. Sometimes you have to tear down something you worked hard on because there’s a critical fault in the foundations that could destroy everything if left unchecked. Sometimes bandaids need to be ripped off.

And also — yeah, everyone is PISSED at Subaru at the moment (post-ficlet). But who the hell said that they didn’t love him anymore?

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

What do you think M6’s answers would be to the question “is it better to feel all the pain or nothing at all?” I haven’t played all the routes so I can’t answer for everyone but I think

Julian -feel it all

Asra -nothing

Muriel -at the start of his route nothing but as he grows as a character it would shift slowly to feel it all

Portia -feel it all

I’d also love to hear your answer if you’re comfortable with that! As someone who’s felt both my answer is nothing bc in my experience the numbness allows you to still function. Even if the life you’re experiencing isn’t as full as it could be, you still get to experience it. When I become so overwhelmed by Everything I completely shut down and cease to be a person. I am my emotions. And I think in Asra’s route this kinda gets explored in that they choose to not feel as deeply ever again bc a muted life with MC is better than a full one without them. Anyway can you tell I recently reread The Giver lol

Woah, that's a good question friend!!

To be completely honest, I think all the M6 progress from the "numb" to the "willing to feel everything" point throughout their routes - as is the case for many people who are in the healing process! (essay below the cut)

Julian, while fully embracing the misery of his situation, is also running from the part of him that wants a happy ending. Meeting the MC is his slow journey of self-acceptance, realizing that his happiness is valuable and worth fighting for. He stops choosing one feeling to drown out all the others and starts feeling everything in a context of loving and being loved.

Asra's in a similar situation. They don't see giving up half their heart as something to regret, but they still talk about the reduced ability to be attached to people as a loss. Reconnecting with MC, being able to slowly bring down the walls that used to facilitate a drifting, untethered survival mode, allows him to start caring more about the people around him since he has a person to call home again.

When Nadia wakes up, she's lost. Seven years of memory have blipped out of view, she's responsible for a city she knows very little about, and the people who are supposed to help her are only getting in her way. She speaks of a similar numb state, being detached and uninvested in the world around her, until meeting MC and finding a way forward gives her what she needs to flourish again. We see a lot of that emotional progression in her reconnecting with her family.

Muriel is an almost textbook case of complex trauma and the myriad of coping mechanisms that arise from trying to escape it. I've written whole essays on the effects of his deal on that process before, but his journey with MC starts with him just wanting them to forget about him, and ends with him asking MC to help him collect the memories of himself and his people.

Portia isn't quite as much numb as she is stuck. From the moment her parents' ship wrecked, she's lived her life in the orbit of other people. First her older brother, then the children and grandmas of Nevivon, then her older brother again, now the Countess - it isn't until she begins to receive that same attention from MC that she starts to really own herself and discover the true depth of her capacity. While we never see her choosing to be numb, we do see her hesitating to come fully into her own. With MC's empowerment, that's exactly what she ends up being able to do.

And finally, Lucio - he's literally numb. He's spent the last three years trapped between realms in a ghostly form that won't let him feel anything at all beyond hunger. While MC is instrumental in returning him the capacity to feel, it's Lucio's own choice to take advantage of that as a fresh start.

[impactedfates]

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking that because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of their extremely harsh training sessions the reader decides to run away especially after one particularly rough training session where the reader was injured after they accidentally talked back and that night the reader starts packing their stuff but they accidentally left behind their late mother's pendant and Blade found it the next morning. (I hope you're okay with writing this and I wish you a good morning, afternoon or good night ☺️)

A/N: Hihi!! Dw I'm okay with writing this, thanks for the request! I hope you're having a good morning/afternoon/night as well :) This is not how I personally interpreted Blade, however to fit in with this request, I tried my best to match it up based on said request. I hope this oneshot is too your liking, I tried my best to follow the prompt of your thing. Tbh I don't like what I've written much but I hope you can enjoy it anyways.

W.C: 1389

Warnings: Blade is a bad dad, small mentions of death (Readers Mom and some mara struck soldiers), small mentions of blood, angst ending (I think?), most definitely an ooc Blade honestly...,semi-proof read as always.

((Reader is a teen in this))

Blade's sword slashed through the mara struck beings. His eyes cautiously looking everywhere to ensure he wouldn’t get surprised attacked. Soon the surrounding mara struck enemies where no more. He was able to go back home and see his love.

He called out her name, expecting a reply back. But all that filled his ears was eerily silence…he didn’t walk too far away from her did he?

He paused a bit and called out again, still no response, he was quick to turn and speed walked in the direction he saw her last. Eyes slightly widening as he spotted who he was looking for on the ground, bleeding out. The mara struck soldier who was responsible, right beside them about to deal a final blow, Blade quickly moved and slashed it, it disappeared into dust. But he had no time to celebrate his victory as he quickly crouched down and lifted up his love.

All she could do was weakly turn to him.

“I managed to kill it the first time…b-but their revival state was much stronger than I first thought…how stupid am I huh?”

She spoke, her hands quickly lifted to her mouth as she coughed, blood coming out. Blade was beyond concerned.

“I’ll…I’ll get you to a healer…just hang on tight”

He had softly said, standing up slowly, trying his best to make his way to a nearby healer he could threaten to heal her or just go back to the Stellaron Hunters Base to get her treated.

“Bladie…there’s no need…I-I don’t think I’d make it anyways…”

“Don’t say that, I just have to be quick”

He answered her quickly, shaking his head before cursing under his breath about the whereabouts of Kafka.

“Bladie…me and you both know I won’t make it…so…can you make a promise to me?”

“Sweetheart, you aren’t going too…I won’t let it happen”

Blade's voice rang out once more, but he knew she was right but he just won’t accept it. He can’t.

“Promise me you’ll take care of our kid…make them have a happy life…even if it is in this awful world…even if I’m not there…make sure they’re able to protect themselves as well so they won’t suffer the same fate as me…promise me?”

“S-stop…y-you aren’t g-going too…” 

“Promise me”

Blade stood still from where he was, halting his actions. He stared at her for a bit before looking away. “I promise…”

.

.

.

“Dad p-please can we rest…f-for just a minute”

Your voice ran out tiredly in the training room, your hands on your knees as you attempted to catch your breath. Your eyes glance up to your father, Blade. His sword was still in hand as he looked at you. Showing no emotion like always. He slowly made his way to you, out of instinct you moved back, until your back hit a wall.

“How do you think you’ll be able to protect yourself if you cannot withstand this training?”

He spoke, his eyes narrowing a bit at your form, as he folded his arms. Your breathing slowed a bit as you looked to the ground.

“T-these training sessions…are getting too hard for me…c-can’t we for once just…go out to eat or s-something” “What do you mean by that?”

You took a deep breath in, lifting your head up, eyes meeting his.

“W-we used to go out a lot w-when mom was still here”

You start, not failing to notice the way he tightened his grip on his sword by the very mention of your mother.

“M-mom…s-she would’ve liked if I was resting…I-I don’t think she’d like it if you or I were overworking ourselves with training”

“Your mothers gone”

Blade speaks, inching forward, his arms to his side as his eyes glare at you. You knew that bringing your mother up would strike a nerve in Blade, you knew how much he loved her. But you felt like this was the only way he’d listen.

“Yes, I know b-but…she would’ve wanted us to be happy, to n-not always train too-”

“She’s gone.”

Your father repeated, his grip on the sword increasing with each word that passed through your lips. You shut your mouth for a second, breathing in. Trying to calm yourself and giving your father some time to calm himself as well. Soon your father spoke up again.

“I lost your mother…I’m not losing you just because you couldn’t protect yourself”

“You’re not even there for me anyways, why do you care!?”

“Because I promised your mother!”

“Well you’re not doing a very good job at keeping that promise are you!”

.

.

.

It was quick, maybe you went out of line with what you said, maybe you didn’t. But the next thing you knew was Blade's sword stabbed on the wall next to your head, but also the feeling of blood trickling down your cheek. Your hand had lifted slowly to check the cut, it wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t small either.

Blades heaving breathing filled the room, his eyes looking at the floor before slowly to your face. He slowly moved back a bit upon seeing the cut on your cheek. He hadn’t meant too…he just…snapped. He only intended to stab his sword on the wall, not to hurt you in any way but he failed anyway. He quickly moved away from you and looked to the side before speaking up in a quiet voice.

“…I’m-”

“I’m going to my room”

And now here you were, packing your bags. You had already patched up your wound, but you didn’t want to stay for any longer.

You double, triple checked you had everything before waiting until the dead of night to sneak out. You didn’t know where you’d be going but…anywhere away from your so-called father right?

And despite all your checking, you seemed to have missed the gift your mother wanted to give you before she died.

.

.

.

Blade couldn’t sleep, he lay in bed breathing slowly thinking about what happened…he was so concentrated on fulfilling the promise to ensure you could protect yourself that he forgot he also promised to make you happy. He knew he’d have a long way to go if he wanted to do that but…he’ll start.

The next morning comes along, and although Blade didn’t get as much sleep as he probably should’ve. He was thinking of ways to try and get your forgiveness.

Slowly he got off his bed and made his way to your room, he’ll check on you first. Hopefully you’ll be okay with listening to him.

He knocked once, twice, three times on the door. No response, the only thing was silence. He tried again.

And again.

And…again…

Each round of knocking grew louder and desperate as time went on. The same aching feeling he had in his heart when he realised his old love wasn’t responding…now it was his kid that wasn’t.

But they were just mad at him right?...That’s gotta be it.

“...I’m coming in”

He spoke, slowly opening the door to an empty room, he opened the door wider and looked around. Where were you? You’re hiding right? You gotta be hiding. He looked around.

“...[Name]...come out…this isn’t funny”

He spoke, looking around the room, hoping you’d jump out at him.

“If this is payback for what…happened…then I deserve it, but please come out”

He tried again. His eyes looked everywhere in the room, until it caught on something shining in the sunlight. He walked over, it was your mothers late pendant. His hand slowly reached for it, his thumb slowly running over the gem in the middle. He paused for a bit before clutching onto it. Making his way out of the room in silence.

Perhaps he was dumb to think you’d stick around after what happened and how he treated you. How he’d only really converse or hang out with you if it was training.

But he had hoped he would be able to fix it before you grew resentful of him…perhaps he was dumb on that part too. Somehow seeing the pendant in the empty room made him realise that not only did he lose his love, but also you. It made him finally accept that you ran away from home...from him.

And not only that, he couldn’t fulfil a part of the promise he made.

To make you have a happy life.

My friend who I asked to read through it said it was giving Endeavour vibes and I have no idea how to feel about that...maybe that's part of the reason why I don't like this fic...

[newbatmanfan19]

Heyyyy so this is a draft of a draft of a chapter for a fic I’m writing. I did my best to make it work as a one-shot but some context for those who want it: It’s an AU focused on Helena Bertinelli. In this fic, she is the biological child of Bruce and Selina, but was given up for adoption by Selina, Bruce does not know about this kid (in Selina’s defense, she didn’t know where he was at the time.) Helena’s adopted father is not particularly fond of her so he sent her away to Saint Mary’s School for Troubled Girls, which turned out to be doing dealings with the Joker. Joker knows who Helena is (people talk in Gotham) so he kidnapped her and told her who her bio-parents were. She was eventually rescued by Batman and Robin!Jason and returned home… only to be sent to Healing Trails Academy six months later. Soooo Helena burns the place down and takes a little girl named Christina with her… hopefully you see my vision for this.

Christina is basically an OC but technically very loosely based on the Italian reporter featured in the Huntress comics. Helena is also basically an OC in terms of personality but I try to infuse as many canon elements as possible. That being said, I am going for accuracy in my portrayal of the rest of the characters (well, fanon accuracy for some, selective canon accuracy for others) I’d love some feedback/constructive criticism or even just general suggestions if anyones interested! This is my first batfam fic and I have spent almost two years getting to know these characters to prepare to write this but there are so many characters to learn :=[

CW: mentions of child abuse (I think that’s all)

…

Meeting Catwoman

Helena hadn’t meant to go following in her biological mothers footsteps quite so closely, but when the need arose, she wasn’t sure what else to do. If it had just been her, maybe she could get by on petty thievery and her wits, but it wasn’t just her. She had Christina to provide for and try to raise, even if Helena was only three years her senior. At only thirteen, it wasn’t like she could go out and get a job. No one Helena thought was worth working for would give one to her. She wasn’t particularly fond of having to resort to crime, but at least she was working for herself and not some skeezy crime lord.

It started simple, nabbing a wallet off an unsuspecting business man or snatching whatever was sticking out of a senile old lady’s grocery bags. Helena quickly found she had inherited her mothers talent for pick-pocketing, and she couldn’t deny the thrill it gave her to do so, as much as she wanted to hate every second of it.

Then, things escalated. She started breaking into some of the nicer houses in Gotham to grab jewels and trinkets, and from there…

Well, she started stepping on Catwoman’s claws.

It was fully intentional, Helena could admit that to herself. She wanted the Cat’s attention. As long as she kept up the jewel heists, it was only a matter of time before she ran into her mother. Helena just hadn’t anticipated it happening quite so quickly. She only just got her suit together, courtesy of Christina.

The moment she got her hands on the absolutely enormous diamond sitting on a nice, velvety pillow, she felt a presence behind her.

“Now, just what do you plan on doing with that after you steal it?”

Helena froze. Even with her back turned, she knew exactly who was speaking to her. After all the scheming she did just to get her mother in the same room as her, she hadn’t quite planned on what to do when she actually got face-to-face with the woman.

She recovered, grabbing the diamond and slipping it into one of the many hiding places Christina had sewn into Helena’s suit. She was certainly crafty with a sewing machine, that one. Then, Helena turned to face her mother, for the very first time in her whole life.

Catwoman was a sight to behold, Helena decided. She practically oozed confidence and charisma, even just standing there. Hands on her hips, staring expectantly at the young girl in front of her. Helena noted that her suit was remarkably similar to Selina’s, an intentional choice by Christina, no doubt. She was glad they were in the masks, Helena knew from her mild stalking of her parents that she was the spitting image of Selina, one look at her unmasked face and the Cat would know.

“Sell it?” Helena hadn’t intended for her response to come out as a question, but to be fair she never really planned on doing anything with it. She would have probably ended up returning it eventually.

The jewels she stole from houses were a dime a dozen. Expensive, but nothing precious, easily taken by the pawn shop owners who didn’t ask questions. Even if they did, she could come up with a story. But this diamond was sitting in a museum under several layers of (really, easily cracked) security for a reason. It was recognizable, she’d need to do dealings with some shady people in order to get rid of it, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that.

“Oh yeah? Who to?” Catwoman’s smirk grew even wider, if that was possible.

“None of your business.”

Catwoman sighed at that. She looked Helena up and down, crossing her arms in front of her as she eyed the girl, and for a moment Helena worried she was going to try to do something like fight her for it. She didn’t.

Instead, she held out her hand, palm facing up. “Come on, hand it over. What else are you going to do with it?”

Helena scoffed, like she actually thought she would give up that easily.

“Finders keepers. I got here first.”

“What are you anyway? Robin’s new arch nemesis or something?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Helena complained rather flatly. “I’m nobody's nothing. I’m just… a stray.”

“I can see that. Kids with parents don’t go running around committing grand larceny.” She sounded smug, so smug. What did she have to be so smug about?

I have parents. One of them is standing right in front of me.

Helena swallowed her protests and leveled a glare at the Cat instead. Catwoman narrowed her eyes at her and if Helena wondered if she was sizing her up before, she was sure of it now.

“You got someplace to go, kid?”

Helena scoffed even louder that time. How ironic. The woman who gave her up for adoption was now trying to take her in off the streets. Not that she could accept the offer, one look at Helena’s unmasked face and Selina would know exactly who she was. Bruce may be oblivious, but she had the advantage of actually knowing Helena existed in the first place. And if she knew who Helena was, well, she already got rid of her once.

“Do I look like I don’t have a place to go?”

“Maybe. You’re resourceful, I’ll give you that. Took down the security system before I even got here.” Catwoman started circling Helena, this time she was examining the suit, as opposed to the girl herself. “That suit is something, but you should really get some kevlar if you want in on the business. I know a guy.” She stopped once she was back in front of Helena. “You’re what? Twelve?”

“I’m almost fifteen!”

Okay, her birthday was 11 months away, so maybe not almost, but still.

Selina was satisfied with that answer, satisfied she got some information out of Helena.

“So is that what I’m supposed to call you? Stray?” For the first time in their conversation, Selina dropped the smirk and seemed genuine, showing some respect for the little thief.

“If you would be so kind.” Helena responded, trying to muster up some of her mothers charisma in her smile.

The sound of glass breaking echoed into the hall they were standing in, followed by the voice of Robin chastising Batman.

Uh-oh.

Helena was not prepared to be seeing both of her parents that night. Nor was she prepared to be captured by one of them.

“Aaand that’s my cue. Sorry, gotta blast. As ‘mistah J’ likes to say, the Bat spoils all the fun!” Helena adopted Harley’s thick Brooklyn accent as she mocked the nickname. “But I’ll get back to you on that armor thing. In exchange–” Helena slipped the diamond out of its pocket and tossed it to Catwoman. “Thanks!”

Really, it was more of a survival tactic than a show of good faith, Batman was far less likely to follow Helena if she didn’t keep the jewel. She grappled up to a nearby vent and made her escape, she’d be back out on the street in less than a minute, and soon after that, she’d be far, far away from the scene. If Catwoman chose to inform Batman of Helena’s presence, she’d be long gone by the time she got done explaining. Though Helena thought she probably wouldn’t, she’d be too busy flirting.

Helena was happy, meeting her mother had gone about as well as she could have hoped for. Maybe Catwoman would be willing to take Stray under her wing, show her the ropes. It was the closest thing to a mother-daughter relationship Helena thought she could hope for. Fantasies of them working together on heists filled her mind as she made her way back to the abandoned theater she lived in with Christina.

Christina had proved herself as a valuable asset in more ways than one. She found the abandoned theater and suggested they live in it back when they first escaped from Healing Trails. Helena thought it was creepy, but seeing as they didn’t have any other prospects, she agreed. Christina loved it, and that’s what mattered. Plus it had the sewing machine she ended up using for Helena’s suit, so it was a win-win. Helena thanked God for the younger girls theater background. That and her unrelenting nosiness that helped greatly in digging up information on Helena’s parents.

When Helena got back to the theater, she found Christina in the green room asleep on the mattress Helena had bought with the spoils from her last break-in. After changing out of the suit and into pajamas, she tried to slip in beside her without waking her, but Christina always woke up. She still had nightmares about the academy almost every night, and she would wake up at the drop of a feather.

“How did it go?” A small, groggy voice asked.

“Good, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Go back to sleep. I’m tired.” Helena yawned as she settled in next to her pseudo-sister.

“Can I see it?” Christina shimmied around so that she was facing Helena, the light coming in from the one tiny window in the room shined on her face, showing her little blue eyes and her freckles.

“I didn’t get the diamond.”

“I thought you said it went good.” Christina pouted slightly and Helena pushed a blonde hair out of her face.

“I met my mom.” She replied simply.

Christina lit up. “Really? Did she like you?”

“I think so, but that’s only because she doesn’t know who I am. Or maybe she just thought it was funny.” That time, it was Helena’s turn to pout.

“I don’t think that’s true, you know. There’s lots of reasons people give babies up for adoption. And if she’s really Catwoman, then maybe she gave you up to keep you safe.”

Helena wanted to believe Christina, she really did. But she was too young, her explanation sounding too… hopeful.

“Stellar job, that did.” She snorted. “If that's true, then all the more reason not to tell her who I am. If she gave me up to keep me safe, then she probably wouldn’t like what I’m doing right now very much.”

“You don’t even want to give her a chance? Maybe she misses you just as much as you miss her. Maybe she already knows who you are and that’s why she liked you!” Christina’s voice was practically pleading by that point. Helena understood, she was probably hoping that they’d both be taken in by Catwoman and be a proper family, complete with an actual parent.

“Maybe.” Helena conceded. “But I want to try to get to know her first. That way, if she doesn’t want me, then at least I got to spend time with her for a little while, yanno?”

“Yeah, I get it. But you really should try. You gotta give people a chance sometimes.” Christina yawned and turned back over onto her stomach. “Goodnight, Lena.”

“Sweet dreams.”

…

I hope you liked it ☺️ — I’ve been storyboarding for almost a year at this point (my timeline is air tight goddammit.) Also I did not come up with stray but I can’t find the OG post I saw about it!! If someone knows who originally came up with that idea please let me know so I can give creds!

[a-polite-melody]

Doctors really do need to learn to actually listen to what their patients are saying instead of making assumptions.

I was reading through the notes on this post [x] and so much of people’s complaints boil down to doctors not actually listening to the patient about the pain they’re in or the things the patient can speak to by living in their body.

And like. I have a story which shows just how much doctors do not like to listen to what you’re saying and just assume what you’re saying which broadens the scope of the problem from just their diagnostics to and overall thing.

When I broke my ankle in 2018 both bones in the ankle broke, which meant I needed surgery to put a plate and pins in to stabilize the break.

I was scheduled in for surgery on a day, and I had to fast from dinner the night before. They had me come in at some point, but then sent me home in the evening because they ended up not having time for my surgery that day because of other things coming up and whatnot. This happens sometimes. It’s unfortunate, but it happens.

When they told me to go home, they said I could have a small meal, but then to fast again, and I’d be called in the next day. And so I did.

The next day the same thing happens: I come in on an empty stomach, and then in the evening I’m sent home because they did not have time for my surgery that day.

At this point I am suffering from not just the stress of being unable to walk or get around by myself, but extreme hunger because of two days of fasting. Because I know I’m a fat woman-looking person, I have my dad be the one to ask the doctor any questions which could get brushed off, and so I express to my dad when the doctor is out of the room that I can’t fast another day like this with no surgery—that either tomorrow needs to be the surgery day or that I need to be able to eat normally for a few days and we try again another time and hope it takes less than three days of fasting to get the surgery done.

When the doctor comes back in, my dad expresses to the doctor for me that I am absolutely starving from the fasting and that it is impacting my mental health at this point. My dad then asks how much longer it could take before the surgery is actually completed?

The doctor responds, “oh, we can wait for weeks to do this surgery.”

I burst into tears, because, with the context of my father explaining that the issue is that I’m too hungry to continue before having asked how many more days this might take, the doctor answering that it could take weeks meant that they would be trying to force me to keep fasting for weeks until they could do the surgery.

The doctor seemed puzzled and asked me what was wrong, and said that it would be fine to leave it that long, that it’s not dangerous for fixation surgery to take that long before it’s done and that it won’t mean my ankle is any worse off.

I damn near scream, “but I’m going to have to eat no more than one small meal a day potentially FOR WEEKS until you finally get around to me on your list!?”

And then the doctor is like, “oh! No! Of course not! I just thought you were worried about it healing wrong with how long it was taking to operate! No, we can give you a day off of fasting and coming in, no problem!”

I desperately wanted to put my fist through his face.

Like. A doctor can be told the exact problem that someone has, but they’re so wrapped up in what patients are ~always complaining about to no end and it’s so annoying to deal with problem patients~ that they don’t fucking pay a lick of attention to anything, hone in on a key word, and decide from there what the “real” complaint is.

[luminouslotuses]

i didn’t see this anywhere here so i figured i’d give a transcript of a portion of the beginning of shubble’s recent stream (apologies for not getting the entire thing but if you want to hear it yourself this is the video i watched);

shubble:

and if you think all of our mutual friends who knew us both intimately in private are supporting me blindly, you aren’t being honest. um, i don’t know how you wouldn’t assume people we spent every day with wouldn’t know more than you about this situation. you are not entitled to everything that everybody knows, not everybody is ready to share their stories and experiences, but they have all asked you to support me and that is not blind. what is blind is pretending that all they have to go off of is my word alone. let’s not ignore the boys who said themselves that they have witnessed him manipulate them and their friends; all of which who were eighteen at the time, by the way.

i am not the only one. give them time before you start calling me a lying whore, perhaps. um, i didn’t coordinate this because i didn’t know how many more people had experiences to share. i actually didn’t know biting was something that had happened before me until after i spoke about it, i didn’t know. um, that’s why i needed to do it. i’m sorry that everything couldn’t conveniently come out all at the same time, um… everyone who knew us both mutually have come together in solidarity and asked you to support me, and i am asking you to listen to all of them, too. it’s not just me. continuing to pretend that it is isn’t helpful.

um… and if all of that isn’t enough for you, then you’re just going to have to not believe me. and i didn’t expect everyone to. that doesn’t mean i owe anything to every person who calls me a liar, um– but if you are mad that more people are believing me and you don’t agree, that sounds like a you problem. they have made up their minds themselves just as you have, and i am not trying to change your mind.

what i endured was so much more than just slobbishness and disrespect, it’s offensive to downplay it that much. and in my opinion, the most obvious thing to me is that the apology is not genuine at all. if it was, i would have been referred to by name. simply. i believe at bare minimum a requirement for a sincere apology is to say the name of who you are speaking to. um, i think by not saying my name, that can only be done out of disrespect, that’s what i believe. to me it completely contradicts any claim to have changed. and i proved on steam that he’s lied. even if just that one time, i felt that was a big deal.

um, shubble support squad– you have been my rock through all of this. i am trying to do the right thing, um, and i do believe so deeply that this needed to happen to protect people. um– i’m only sorry that i couldn’t protect everyone else, because– there were more people hurt after me. um, and i am sickened– by what he did. i truly believe my soul is healed beyond him but unfortunately, my mind and my body are not, and that will take more time. your brain chemistry changes when you live through something like this. um, and– i’m going to try to play minecraft, and pretend my life has peace for a moment, um, because it won’t. for a while.

um– but it will. and i’m gonna try to find my way to happiness, and if you don’t like the way that that looks, then i’m sorry. um, i’m just going to have to disappoint you. i have to put my mental health first.

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Fucking Rant: S2 E6 

OKay I’m a big fat liar and my pants are burning my ass rn, I know I said I’d do Rwby designs next but then the whole leaked episode drama happened and now it’s out and I need to complain. 

*Off the bat, I’m not going to talk pacing mainly because I have little experience with dealing with pacing (having never written anything more than comic strips lol). The episode didn’t feel too fast but anyway 

I’m going to organize this based on gripes I have per character. 

Fizzarolli: He is my baby. He's like kind of babygirl if that makes any sense. “Maybe I could burn the milk this time” 

I adore Fizz as a character. He’s not babified or infantilized like a lot of Viv’s other gay men. So far. Who knows, the writers have proven how adept they are at contradicting and retconning characters. But uhhhh what the fuck was he doing in Greed? Am I stupid? Like, it’s never spelled out. Is it for pr? Is it a deal with Mammon type thing? Is he promoting something? If he had somewhere to be why did he let his dogs run him all over creation??? Like, bit of an issue there as it’s only vaguely mentioned that he was practicing something. 

His backstory is like... acceptable I suppose. Not what I was expecting. I was expecting like, what we got, and a combination of some other theories I had personally. See, my issue is the fire and how imps have been shown in previous episodes to be, ya know, IMMUNE TO FIRE. Imagine if, and bear with me here huge stretch I know, imps are immune to fire and hellfire – but not holy fire. Like, shit straight from the angel’s burning halo type fire. That would make sense, since hellfire is a thing in pop culture and biblically accurate angels are all gold and flames! 

I do like the idea that fizz’s entire body is white from scars, however I think his scars need texture for the idea to sell. Maybe in full costume it’s covered with makeup, but come on people he was lit on fire, you ever seen a healed burn? Fizz being scared of the flames legit made me sad, I love him so much. However they’re trying to show he’s got like ptsd (maybe not exactly but still) from it, but it feels inconsistent to me for some reason. On a final note, he never should’ve forgiven Blitzo in any way, shape or form tbh, I would’ve preferred what Barbie did just straight up, I don’t like you, I can’t forgive you please leave me alone.  

Asmodeus: This cemented for me how much I fucking hate his design. His stupid head is so tiny and his body is built like a brick shithouse like, it’s so unbalanced and weird looking. I like his character here I suppose. No noticeable inconsistencies from his first appearance. His va is killing it tbh, love him so much what a king. 

I’m fine with his character, what I’m not fine with is the weird consent angle their going with. Like... he is the SIN of LUST??? Valentino is more of what I’d expect as the sin of Lust compared to Asmodeus. Also, the WEAKEST and most NON THREATENING SIN??? KESHADOG IS RIGHT THERE 

Crimson: He should’ve been hired by Mammon to get back at Asmodeus. Maybe Asmodeus has an unpaid debt with Mammon and has been shirking him so Mammon is like ‘i have your fucktoy now, give me my money or you won’t get him back’��

Like his little video chat could’ve been context, like “You don’t know me, but you may know my employer – Mammon?” 

The paperwork would make sense then, Mammon is sending over contracts and bullshit Asmodeus has to sign. The importance of reading the fine print would be even more present because Asmodeus is dealing with someone on his level who can actually fuck him up, not some nobody imp he could kill with a glance! Crimson’s motive could be that Mammon offered him a share of Ozzie’s stock and would let him run some shit because Crimson has become a prominent member of higher society despite being an imp, which is the only reason Striker is partnered with him. 

Striker: Striker baby doll, please just fucking kill Fizz. Like, stop fucking standing there, kill the fucker. Omg I was so annoyed with his lack of action this episode. Both Fizz and Striker are incredible agile and snake like characters, this whole distraction song should’ve been a mix of striker trying to kill Fizz/Fizz avoiding him and Crim’s gang being just flabbergasted by the bullshit they’re witnessing. It’s been shown before that Crimson ony ever sits on the sidelines while his goons get killed so like????  

Anyway, Viv can try as hard as she wants to paint Striker as in the wrong and a bigot, but it won’t work on me. He’s completely in the right because imps are literally the slave/working class in this caste system. Fizz is (to imps in the slums and less fortunate) probably the epitome of a pampered lapdog plaything of the upper class. ANd that could’ve been something interesting to explore. Why not show the perspective of other imps that think like Striker, maybe have them be antagonistic to Fizz because he’s Asmodeus and Mammon’s pet, or maybe Fizz finds out that’s what people think of him and he’s horrified and that’s why he’s mad Blitzo calls him a whore. But no, because Striker is an evil bigot who sides with the evil woman Stella so nobody else thinks like he does. 

Also, his new va has the sexiest voice i've heard since live action Buggy or sub Crocodile so I'm not complaining about him taking up screen time

Him all disheveled is straight up working for me

Blitzo: Once again he gets away with being shitty and stupid and awful because he’s a woobie. Why the fuck was the crux of their hatred based on a birthday cake and the miscommunication trope??? I hate this so much.  

Was Blitzo in love with Fizz? Is that what that blink and you’ll miss it letter was? I’m getting very tired of this show having blink and you’ll miss it plot beats. That isn’t showing not telling, it’s like sweeping shit under a rug. Its like they think just because it was on screen for a frame the audience will catch it and be like ‘omg it happened’ or feel smart for catching something. Stolitz making up through text shouldn’t be a pause the video and read moment for fuckssake. 

I’m finding it very ahrd to tolerate Blitzo. On the topic of him though, I saw the leaked episode. WHY was Barbie taken out of the final flashback???

What the actual fuck???? Like... once again the women in this show are just shoved away and forgotten this is like Naruto level female character writing guys. Naruto had one good female character and she was still sidelined half the damn time. 

Also i fucking hate how this show can't be serious for more than five seconds like when Fizz and Blitzo hug and Blitzo is like 'haha wanna make out' i hate this but it isn't as egregious as having dildos during an abuse scene

Conclusion: Animation was amazing (also one of my fav animators KittenSneeze is an animator for Spindlehorse now like i love them so good for them), plot was whatever, characters are where the story falls, this won and I can’t anymore. 

Actually no, not conclusion. You know what really makes me hate Helluva Boss? It isn’t fair. I know that sounds childish and stupid, but who cares I’m childish and I’m stupid. Why is it that someone like Viv, who consistently doesn’t take criticism and is just a shit person all around gets rewarded for doing dogshit all the time. Yeah it’s a bit step for indie animation or whatever but she literally has Alex Brightman in her fucking pocket I don’t wanna hear it. Lackadaisy has earned it’s time in the goddamn spotlight, not Viv and her stupid creations. It’s so unfair. She got popular off of happenstance for her kesha sparkledogs and now she’s off bastardizing demonology and writing borderline backwards gay and female characters and she’s getting praised as the patron saint of queer rep and indie animation. Like, she doesn’t deserve it. Genuinely. I wish I could just post my demon story and people would just flock to it like flies to shit and shower me in praise and protect me from any criticism. But that’s not how real life works, but for some reason it is for Viv. Its just... I hate it. 

Anyway, baby rant over. This episode was like 7/10 tbh. It wasn't amazing but for Helluva Boss it was good. Sarcastic Chorus made a video about it that I'm gonna watch because honestly his takes could convince me this show is on Arcane's level lmao. Bye bye <3 

[dragonshoard]

I've been brainstorming the conditions under which BB!Jinx would meet Vi, and one option I've come across is post-Shurima conflict and Silco's death (still up in the air on how THAT happens). Vi is released as a result of Caitlyn's newest project to burn out the corruption in Piltover's judicial system. Vi comes back to Zaun to try and find Powder, eventually running into Sevika who reveals that Silco killed Powder. As a note, Sevika does NOT know that Powder was revived and genuinely isn't lying to Vi knowingly. Not many Zaunites who knew Powder have actually seen Jinx's face at this point other than a few individuals.

Vi crashes out. Hard. Going down the drinking and fighting route she did post-Cait break up.

I've mentioned before that Vi is also spirit-blessed in this AU. She's tempered iron and bedrock, an untapped potential forged to serve as a reliable foundation; someone capable of carrying the world on her shoulders even on the worst days.

(Some of this is pretty literal: her bones are very difficult to break and she's very good at taking hits.)

This connection to the arcane draws Jinx to her, who is somewhat disappointed at the state she finds her spirit-sister (ha). Jinx takes to patching her up when Vi gets especially banged up.

Here's a snippet of one of their interactions. Tis a work in progress.

Why is Jinx wearing a veil in addition to her feather cloak? Haven't figured that out quite yet - probably something along the lines of it not being entirely safe for her face to be out there at the moment or a religious trial of some sort. Either way, I realized it was way too easy for the hood of her cloak to be knocked down so I had to add an extra layer of security.

--x--

“Ya know, this is the fourth time I’ve had to drag you to the church in a month.” 

The arm in her grasp jerked away in an attempt to escape, but Jinx was used to dealing with unruly patients. It was easy to adjust her grip to keep a better hold of the injured limb and continue wrapping it in clean bandages. 

“Stop tensing. You’re going to end up with loose bandages and then where will all of my hard work have gone, huh,” Jinx scolded, pinching the singular uninjured part of the exposed shoulder.

“It’s not like I asked for your help.” The arm tensed again before visibly, forcefully, relaxing. If there was one thing Jinx appreciated her unwilling patient for, it was that despite complaining the brawler actually listened to instructions. 

“Don’t be ungrateful, shithead.”  snip

“I just don’t get why you’re going through all the trouble. You could do your hand-wavey healing magic and I’d be out of your hair in half the time.”

Jinx frowned, tempted to give the cocky bastard another pinch for the audacity but eventually settled for rolling her eyes. The humor was lost, of course, with the thick veil covering everything nose up, but it was the thought that counted! 

“Only people who don’t go around picking fights and making a mess of their pretty faces get a fancy healing session with me.” She slapped the adhesive just a bit harder on the bandage than necessary, feeling a glow of satisfaction at the responding flinch. “You, get to heal the old fashion way. Slowly,” Jinx cackled. 

“And here I thought you religious folk were supposed to be kind and worldly,.”

“Excuse you, I am the kindest person you will ever meet. I could’ve left your scruffy ass where I found it instead of hauling you all the way to my side of town.”

Jinx was careful with the remaining materials, quickly packing away the salvaged remains and sterilizing the needles she had used with a lighter. With a cursory look at her first aid pouch, Jinx realized that she would have to restock soon. 

“Seriously, you don’t have to keep wasting your supplies on me. I’ll get by.” 

Now, that sounded far too depressing for this early in the day. And that was disregarding the blatant day drinking that the older woman took part in. Jinx looked back up to make a joke but stopped short at the look on the other’s face. 

Ah, it was one of those days.

“Vi - “ she began, stopping for a second to try and find the right words.

She wasn’t - good at talking; had never picked up the talent despite how often she’d needed it - too cutting, too sarcastic, and entirely lacking in patience. She’d gotten better over the years, but it didn’t change that in times like these Jinx just wasn’t the best person to turn to, especially when dealing with jobs that went beyond the body.