#Jaime: if I ignore it everything will be fine

[bakageta]

I think I'm gonna post Blue Beetle stuff here first and not worry about things like editing and coming up with a summary and thinking up a title. I'm running off vibes right now and don't wanna wait.

This is totally inspired by @wazzappp's anatomy post. I already wanted to do something about why it took (relatively) longer for Jaime's back to heal and that post just gave me more to write about. I wanna write more too! So throw body horror ideas at me plz!!!!

---

After the wake and the funeral and the burial and the mourning, after everything calmed down and everyone had a chance to breathe, Jaime looked at the scarab on his back again.

It wasn’t the first time he’d showered since everything, of course, but it was the first time he’d been able to focus on his thoughts instead of quietly disassociating until he was clean. Now he was appreciating the amenities in the hotel suite Jenny’d set the Reyes family up in while their home was repaired. There was a rainfall shower head. The toilet had an actual bidet that had sprayed Rudy’s ass the first time he’d taken a shit.

As always Khaji was ticking away in the back of his head, reassuringly present in a way Jaime didn’t want to look too closely at yet. It didn’t say anything though.

“Soap won’t bother you, right?” He hadn’t scrubbed himself down in a week or so. Partly because he’d been busy and then distracted, but also because just the shampoo running down his back during the first shower after it all had burned at the raw edges between his skin and Khaji Da.

Correct. We are fully healed now.

“Bien.” He squeezed the last of the sample sized hotel soap onto a washcloth and reached over his shoulder to start scrubbing. The scarab between his shoulder blades is anchored firmly, he can feel its legs under his muscles. 

That wasn’t a surprise. Jaime had felt every moment of Khaji burrowing up his spine and digging a home in his back. What was new was the strange… straps? the straps crossed above his shoulders and under his arms beneath his skin. They came from the scarab, where its front and back legs would be like, like it was some kind of awful fucking backpack.

“Khaji?” Jaime dropped the washcloth and shifted so he was able to trace up his spine. The three knots of alien tissue that Khaji had left like breadcrumbs also had straps running below his skin. Bending forward, Jaime realized he was able to feel where the straps anchored and the dips in his back where nothing had changed. “What am I feeling Khaji?”

The anchors for my carapace and sensory nodes. It hesitated, something it had only started doing after, as it started to learn when and when not to elaborate. They secure me and reduce the risk of damage or dislodgement. The growth of new tissue is why your back took so long to heal. Our efforts were split: your body prioritized your epidermis and my systems prioritized my security.

Sure. That made sense. Self preservation was a thing for alien symbiotes. The odd tug Jaime’d felt moving around was the growth of Khaji’s anchors and not muscle soreness like he’d assumed. Or maybe Khaji’s anchors counted as muscles. Wonderful. It also answered a question he’d never thought to ask: why his back had looked so bad for so long while cuts and scrapes healed in minutes. Great.

The hotel probably didn’t let guests on the roof.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t get there.

Jaime waited until after his shower, after Millagro took over the bathroom, after he hugged Mama and Nana, and after he swore up and down to Rudy that he wasn’t gonna fly off, to go to the roof. He made his way up the stairs, shorted out the electronic lock with a subtle lick of blue energy, and laid down on the flat gravel and tar paper roof. Like this he could feel Khaji and its nodes digging into his back alongside larger chunks of stone, foreign objects embedded in his body.

The sky was clear, but this close to Palmera, the stars might as well be invisible except for the most bright. Still enough to ground Jaime, to make him feel a part of life when everything was too much. A jet flew overhead, beacon flashing against the night. Jaime wondered if it was coming or going. 

Flight DL1332 is on approach to Palmera International, Khaji intoned.

“Huh. How d’you figure?” Jaime folded his hands behind his head to cushion it. 

After a moment the itching growth of the blue beetle’s carapace spread across the backs of his hands and arms. It stopped short of the full thickness armor Khaji was capable of, only forming the tough black underlayer.

They are communicating using radio frequencies. It is not difficult to interpret.

“Cool.”

Would you like to listen?

Jaime sighed. “Sure.”

Static faded into Jaime’s ears, interrupted regularly by steady trailing voices. It was calming. Like listening to another language, even though the pilots and controllers were still speaking English.

[pixelshiftexe]

In a modern universe, Cersei Lannister would get sent to one of those fancy private rehabs/psych hospitals (she doesn't want to go but Jaime booked her in after her latest breakdown and convinces her that actually it's super trendy these days for rich white women to go on "mental health retreats") and immediately tries to convince her psych team that she's totally fine and actually doesn't need to be here only to promptly be diagnosed with Bipolar and put on an ungodly amount of Seroquel.

Every single meeting she's forced to attend, she sits in her chair huffing up a storm while everyone else speaks, and when it's her turn goes on a fifteen minute rant alternating between insisting that everything wrong with her isn't actually her fault, insulting everyone else at the meeting because can't BELIEVE people actually fall for this psychobabble therapy nonsense, and sobbing uncontrollably over how her life has turned out.

After she's done she goes back to ignoring everyone.

Would absolutely look down on the people in there for narcotic addictions despite the fact that she's spent roughly the equivalent of the GDP of a small country on cocaine over the years.

Also freely admits to her therapist to having had an incestuous relationship with Jaime during childhood and adolescence but insists it doesn't matter anymore because they "grew out of it" after Jaime went to military school and she realised it would've been social suicide for her modelling career if anyone got photos of them together while she was dating various other celebrity guys, and remains completely oblivious to the ongoing emotional incest and codependency that's running through her entire family.

She emphatically insists that the only problem with Tywin's parenting was that he didn't send Tyrion away at birth and that he got Jaime a spot at Harvard Business School even though he didn't actually WANT to go and SHE did.

If this sounds like I'm bashing her, I promise I'm not. These are simply things I know to be true.

[mimikoflamemaker]

The False Dragon - Chapter 9

The Restitution

Elyas stared down at the man, refusing to be dragged down to the level of such a petty squabble. Not to mention that he did not believe the attitude – he could detect tension, locked into his shoulders so tightly the bones seemed ready to snap. He was measuring him true, but he was also the one sitting bound onto the floor.

The one with no other option.

‘Have it your way then’ he said, his voice flat, before he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

‘Wait’ the man stopped him, before he could get even halfway across the room, his tone a little more measured now. ‘Don’t act like a prissy little cunt, say your piece. I’m all ears.’

It was so expected he couldn’t even feel proud about his prior observations.

‘I knew you would value your life a little more than that, Jaime’ Elyas turned to face the man again, allowing his face to drop briefly into an annoyed frown.

‘So, you do remember my name’ the smile was back, the subtlety of sarcasm either lost on the man in front of him or willfully ignored.

‘It changes nothing.’

‘It made you pick me out of such a fine lot, did it not?’

Willfully ignored then. Maybe choosing someone he knew was a mistake after all. Jaime was older than him – not by a lot, since they often played in the same group of street urchins back when he still didn’t have anything better to do – and like most of the children raised by the alleys of the Flea Bottom his adult life consisted mostly of perpetuating the crimes he had witnessed as a child. Everything was a fair game as long as it ensured survival or a way to earn a few coins.

Until Daemon decided rough measures needed to be put forth – if not to clean the city of the crime completely, then to scare the perpetrators enough that they wouldn’t dare come out during the upcoming festivities.

Judging by the screams of people being rounded up and subjected to the prince’s quick and bloody judgment at least one part of that plan was going to work out.

[taylortruther]

I just did a lot of research on death of the author recently for one of my hobbies (I'm a book youtuber lmao) and people misinterpret what that means alllll the time and now it's one of my biggest pet peeves haha. The original french essay, and the context with which it was written, has been completely twisted.

The original essay was written at a time when literary analysis was focused ONLY on an authors intended meaning, and that there was a singular CORRECT answer and interpretation, and you would find it by researching everything about the author. Death of the Author posited that an individuals reaction and interpretation to a piece of art outside of this was *also* valid, and that it shouldn't be ignored as irrelevant. That art could stand on it's own and that wasn't immediately to be dismissed.

People now tend to use it in one of two ways: as a binary (you can only have death of the author! There can't be author understanding AND personal understanding!) OR as a way to say "I don't like this author's political stances but still like their work" which is even further from the original meaning lmao.

Anyway, you and Jaime understand this clearly already but it drives me crazy when people use it to act like you can't be interested in Taylor's intended meaning and history as WELL as your own interpretation of the art. Both are valid, and often both are necessary to fully understand literature and other art.

i was literally just about to make this post so i'm glad you did the work, thank you bestie. also, it's not a law, it's a lens or theory of interacting with the work. it's not the only way. and btw, it's already happening with taylor's work (in that people worldwide relate her music to their lives already, her music already lives on beyond her and interpretations change per person and with the culture, and no one is being forced to only take taylor's experiences into account when interpreting her work?)

what people mean is that they find gossip about her writing to be annoying. which is fine. but they can just say that lmao

[nico-di-genova]

One Day

Summary: Jaime had not considered that there would be some injuries Khaji could not heal, not until he’s standing before the bathroom mirror and staring, horrified, at the scars tracing along his body. Written for the prompt: What if Jaime developed lichtenburg figures from the machine that just won't go away for some reason?

The first time Jaime sees the scars, he is in the master bathroom of Jenny’s abandoned mansion.

He wakes up on the dusty mattress of her parents bed, hair pressed flat on one side of his head and drool drying on his cheek. Disoriented by the moth eaten sheets beneath him, it takes him a moment to sit up from where he’s been lying on his stomach, pushing himself up with shaking arms. His whole body aches, down to his teeth when he grits them and groans.

The pulsing agony that courses its way through him is not unlike what he imagines it would feel like to be hit by a bus. In fact, he thinks, a bus might actually be kinder. He takes assessment of himself in increment pieces. There is dried blood streaked across his abdomen, it is the easiest thing to spot when he shifts to sitting with his back against the headboard and presses inquisitively at the warm skin with probing fingers. There is no surface wound, but Jaime can distantly remember the sharp pain of something tearing through him with the ease of a knife through butter. There is far less blood on him than he would have thought, given the way it had felt pooling tacky between his skin and the suit, which Jaime thinks must mean someone had wiped most of it away. He tries to remember who it might have been, but his last coherent thought is of watching Ignacio walk into a burning inferno, dragging Victoria Kord behind him as if she were loose cargo.

His thighs and legs burn with a tender soreness that throbs when he moves, but otherwise they seem fine. His arms ache, and there’s dirt crusted under his fingernails, but they otherwise are clean. Jaime has been dressed in satin blue trackpants with faded gold stars marching in an even line down the sides. He recognizes the clothing from Ted Kord’s abandoned closet. They were the pair he had intentionally ignored when Jenny told him to take whatever he wanted, which means he did not dress himself. He does not know how long he has lain in this bed, inhaling the moldy stench of decay that’s settled over everything in the mansion, but it’s been long enough that Khaji Da has managed to heal most of his wounds on the surface level.

“Khaji?” He asks into the empty space, eyes searching the room even as he knows he won’t see them and feeling at his back for where tender flesh meets the hard surface of the scarab.

“I am here, Jaime.” They reply, immediately, as if they were only waiting for Jaime to remember the feeling of their presence at the back of his mind. And he does feel it, more than he has since they first burrowed inside him and built a home out of his body. If he focuses on them hard enough he can almost hear their thoughts, feel the bone deep exhaustion that mirrors his own.

“Are we okay?”

Read More

[wsdalt]

hellooo i am a bit late but. ask game! 🏜️🎨🥤? (ik you did the last one already but recs are always fun!)

"what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?"

um… okay firstly i obviously love all comments, but i will say i enjoy when people sort of… point out/engage with the thesis of sorts of the fic? i suppose? i don't always go into a fic with a "thesis" i'm trying to convey in mind, but sometimes i do and i like when people pick up on it and engage with or mention it \o/!!

"recommend an author or fanfic you love"

well… i would recommend you pfft but you're the one sending the ask. so um… in the interest of sticking with felps related fics i will recommend “we made out way by finding what is real” and “once more to see you” because I’ve been in a federation escape stream mood \o/!! First one is them escaping (+ timeloop concept) and second one is post-escape… fluff I suppose? as much as it can be considering the circumstances and paranoia

"link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it" (out of order just in case i need to use a cut pfft. i did need the cut. okay have fun \o/)

it's that time of the week, time to pass the felps bystander guilt art… while this features other people in true nature to myself i will focus on felps with this though okay lets go: very cool piece first of all \o/!! second of all i have no idea if this is jaime's intentions with this art at all but…

felps having his face turned towards what is happening with cell and pac, but when you actually look he's looking completely past them? they're in his peripherals, surely… it's not that he can't see them, or he's entirely ignoring what's happening--it's in a murky sense of acknowledging it without acknowledging it? he's acknowledging it, but he can't look right at it. i like that as much as cell and pac draw your attention, felps stands out a lot--everyone else is in orange, and they're also a lot more… "fluid" i guess than him? (although with JV it's because he's dead and dead bodies don't really hold tension oops…) i just really like the perfect posture + almost casual stance

i think you can link it easily to the fact felps has a slight tendency to fall into the "everything's fine \o/" way of processing things--or at the very least tries to brush over his issues? it's not his method 100% of the time, and it doesn't fully work, but you know--you can also link the fact it doesn't fully work to the fact he looks back: he can't fully ignore it

i always imagine this scene as felps being told by cell to stand guard and make sure no one interrupts him and this very much feels like a depiction of that. a very sort of hopeless "what else can i do but this?" and throwing himself into it. he has his guard stance--but he looks back! maybe because despite the neutral expression (see again: "everything is fine" approach) he does care about pac a little and he doesn't want this to happen. he can't bring himself to watch, but he can't bring himself to look away and pretend it isn't happening either!

back to felps standing out: it really plays into that line he had when he mentioned to richarlyson that he was in prison--i'm paraphrasing a little i think because i don't have time to hunt it down, but he said something like "i was on the other side. i was alone." and you can really see that here! he's definitely not "one of them". the different uniform, the different colours, the difference in stance… despite the fighting going on the others seem more "united" as a concept…? i don't know how to explain it

the bystander guilt is also a fun thing combined with his saint stuff and all that, but that isn't specific to this piece

anyway getting specific with it and really just taking audience interpretation liberties here even moreso than before: colouring behind felps' head as halo and by extension priest imagery if you're me. his hands behind his back is cool--i can't remember if i wrote this into my fic(s?) specifically because of this piece, but i do lean into the idea of him during this era holding his hands behind his back as a professional way to hide them so people can't see them shaking

felps being the tallest can also be a reference to the fact he's technically supposed to have the most power here due to being a guard, but that's neither here nor there as he… doesn't actually have much power in the scene (the blackmail). although maybe just the illusion of power, but not acting on it is interesting? to someone like pac--he could've stopped it. or tried to. but he didn't. and we know that's because of the blackmail--but it'd be hard for pac to conceptualise that if he wasn't the kind of person to do the "everything's fine!" thing and succeed very very well until he has to break

celltw are fun and jaime did amazing with them of course, but this piece will always be the felps bystander guilt art to me. i have it as my lock screen pfft

[justanamesstuff]

“What do you guys want to know? haha”

I would like to Matty talking to the kids, the reader and Denise 🥹

Matty rested on top of the blankets, his hair wet from the quick shower he took before calling Y/n as he promised. He waited for her to pick up, resting his head on his arm behind his head.

The screen changed, showing the other side of the line. He was desperately to see her, so he FaceTimed Y/n.

Some little nose was everything Matty could see. "Hello?" he said, chuckling.

"Daddy?" Arthur exclaimed, the sound making him hissed. Too loud.

"Hello, baby."

"Daddy!" he shouted once more, the conversation on the background died and a fight of who took the phone started. Arthur found it funny to run around the room, taking the phone with him.

"Arthur Healy! Give me the phone." Matty heard Y/n's voice far away.

"Arthur, come here, honey." Denise tried.

Matty chuckled watching the face of his baby boy having fun unaware of the mess his father was ignoring. The messages piling up, Jaime was probably ready to scold him or something. Matty couldn't care less watching Arthur.

"Baba." he said and Archie looked back at the screen with his eyes close to it. "Give mummy the phone, okay?"

Arthur thought about it looking up at his mother and granmother's face.

"Okay." he said.

After a few minutes, a breathless Y/n appeared on-screen.

"Hi, my love."

"Your kids are impossible sometimes." she said.

"Mommy!" Mel protested hearing her.

Y/n sat down beside Amelia, Arthur at the other side watching daddy.

"They're our kids, Y/n."

She rolled her eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Missing you guys."

Amelia grabbed the phone, dragging it down to her face. "When are you coming home, daddy?

"Hi, mel-mel." Matty cheered, looking at her sweet face. "Few more days, baby."

"Are you bringing us presents?" she asked shyly.

"Amelia!" Y/n scolded her.

"What? He promised!" she defended herself.

Denise sat beside Y/n, staring at Matty's tired face.

"Isn't late over there, Matty?"

"Hi to you too mom..." he greeted her.

"Hi, my son. I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, we all are. Right kids?" grandmas question was answered with giggles and movements of head. Y/n tried to show Matty angling right the phone.

"How is everyone?"

"Exhausted." Matty replied truthfully, it was a weird and hectic night.

"We should probably let you sleep, baby."

"Mhm, I'll call tomorrow, okay?" the singer promised, feeling his eyelids falling.

"Say bye to daddy." Y/n told Arthur and Amelia.

"Bye, daddy!!" they exaggerated together, making him laugh.

"I love you, my loves."

"We love you." Y/n said before cutting the line.

*****************************

Adding this part here that @journey-to-consistency suggested, thank youuu :)))

"Hello!" Matty shouted from the front door.

Two pairs of feet running rumbled around the house. Soon the kids crushed against Matty's legs.

"Uff." he exclaimed, dropping his bag to the side. "Hello, you two." he said kneeling down, brushing Arthur and Amelia's messy hair back. "Oh, come here." he engulfed them into a family hug. "Did you miss daddy?" he asked.

"Yes!" Arthur shouted.

"So much." Amelia added from the other side of his head.

After a few minutes there, he asked them, "where is mommy?"

"On the couch, with grandma." Amelia told him. Matty frowned, looking at her, worried.

"Is she alright?" he stood up, starting to walk with them closer to the living room.

"Yes, a bit sick."

The first trimester of her third pregnancy was entirely different from the past two. Most of the time she had to lay down upstairs or on the couch. Y/n felt bad she couldn't greet Matty.

The singer's eyes fell on his girlfriend and Denise sitting beside her.

"Hi, mom." he said, Denise looked up and Y/n opened her eyes.

Y/n tried to push up, but a wave of dizziness took over her body. Matty rushed to her side, meanwhile Denise pushed her body to rest again.

"Hello, my love." he said slowly, with a deep voice, trying not to disturb her.

"Hi, Matty."

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm, just sick..."

Denise rubbed his back sweetly, telling him, "She's alright, nothing abnormal, Matty."

The frontman hand went to her little bump. "Are you giving mommy a hard time, huh?" he left a kiss.

"Welcome home, Matty." Y/n tried to joke.

Matty chuckled, kissing her cheek this time.

The kids made their way to cuddle their mother, as they were doing before Matty arrived. The singer felling, completed again.

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP

Jaime Reyes, the superhero known the world as Blue Beetle, lazily throws an arm over his face as the alarm continues to go off next to his ear. He doesn’t wanna get up. It’s still so early…

“Jaime Reyes,” his Scarab chides, its flat machine-like voice perfectly audible even with the loud, insistent beeping in the background—which makes sense, given that’s its not actually speaking, but rather communicating directly with his mind. “It is almost—”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jaime groans out loud, sitting up and rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes. He looks at his alarm clock, and his eyes widen. 3:15 in the afternoon. Damn.

“Tres y quince,” he mutters out loud, kicking the blankets away and leaning over to turn off his alarm clock. He missed breakfast, he knows, and is about to miss lunch too if he doesn’t hurry. “Conchale, Khaji, y porque no me despiertas?”

If it was possible for sentient alien WMDs to be irritable, he’s certain Scarab would be shorter-tempered than even Cassie is these days. “Jaime Reyes—”

“Ya, ya, ya,” he interrupts impatiently, waving Scarab off with a sweep of his hand and getting up to walk towards the closet. “Olvidalo, da igual, me visto y ya. Hormiga de miercoles…”

The Scarab mercifully doesn’t bother correcting him, and before long Jaime is sitting down in the living room across from Cassie and Tim, neither of whom spare him a glance, with Tim too busy with his tablet to even bother looking up and Cassie just melancholically glaring down at her food like it is the reason for the mess they’re all in. Jaime isn’t really surprised—no one on the team really spoke to each other all that much anymore after the incident down at the docks two months ago, but it still rankles him for reasons he can’t fully verbalize. Cassie killed someone. They should be trying to figure out what that meant, together, as a team, not closing themselves off in their own little worlds to process what happened by themselves.

He tries to just keep his head down and get with the program, he really does, but after ten long minutes in complete silence the awkwardness becomes too unbearable.

“Soo,” he tries, absentmindedly picking at his food with his fork. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?”

Great start, Jaime.

Cassie completely ignores him, which isn’t a surprise, but he does succeed in making Tim at least raise his head. “Do you need something, Jaime?” he asks neutrally, his eyes cool in a way they really shouldn’t be.

“I… no, I guess not,” he says uncertainly, off-put by the sudden coldness that came over Tim’s demeanor over such a bland, inoffensive statement as the one he just uttered. “Just…”

“Just what?” he asks.

It’s not aggressive.

It’s not Tim, either.

“Nothing,” he replies, swallowing thickly before getting up from the table. “I think I lost my appetite.”

“Did you?” He sounds so… bored. With Jaime. With everything. “That’s too bad.”

Jaime gathers up his plate and half-turns to the kitchen, getting more and more creeped out by the moment. “Right. I, um, I’m just gonna go, if that’s alright with the two of you.”

“Fine by me,” Tim says simply, lowering his gaze back to the tablet. “Just clean your plate before you put it in the dishwasher. We don’t want a repeat of the Bart incident.”

“Sure thing,” Jaime mutters absently as he turns and walking away, feeling Tim’s gaze burn into his back despite the fact he’s not even looking at him. “I’ll get right on it.”

He shakes his head as soon as he’s out of the room. What the hell was up with everyone lately?

~~

“And don’t do it again!” Eddie roars in a strangely deep voice, slamming the door in their faces. They hear it lock a moment later, and an awkward silence engulfs the hallway for a good ten seconds as he and Bart try to process the fact that Eddie Bloomberg just screamed at them over them knocking on his door to invite him to play video games.

“He’s…” Bart tries, before falling silent. Jaime doesn’t know what he was gonna say. Stressed? In a bad mood?

“Yeah, I bet he is,” Jaime mutters, not even completely sure of what he means by that, before tapping his fist against Bart’s shoulder and walking away. “Sorry, hermano. Another day.”

“Yeah,” Bart says quietly, still standing there staring at Eddie’s locked door like it held the keys to some great puzzle. “Another day.”

~~

Jaime holds a fist to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his chuckling as he walks towards M’gann room. In his hand he holds a long, rambling letter from his conspiracy nut uncle warning him about some supposed behind-the-curtain happenings in the military—generals being quietly sacked and replaced with no justification overnight or going missing outright, whole weapon caches disappearing from the official logs, tanks and airplanes being found irreparably damaged from one day to the next, that sort of thing. It’s nonsense, and it reads like the sort of thing a QAnonist might come up with. Jaime wants to do a dramatic reading of it in front of M’gann—he has a feeling they both need more reasons to smile these days, and the last time he read out one of his uncle’s fiery letters the sound of her helpless giggling made him unable to stop smiling for a whole week. Goofing off like that again will do them both good, he decides.

“Hey, chica, come look at this!” he calls out, knocking on her door twice in quick succession.

There’s no answer.

Jaime’s brows knit together in concern. “M’gann?”

Nothing.

“M’gann, come on!” he calls out, knocking frantically on her door, despite the fact that he knows he has to be in there—no one has seen her leave her room in days. “This isn’t funny!”

No answer. He tries the door. Locked.

She’d been burnt after the crisis, Jaime remembers. She’d said she’d be fine. She’d promised.

Please, not another one. We can’t take another one.

“Jaime Reyes,” the Scarab says, and he extends his arm as the left side of his suit materializes over his body. Thanks, Khaji, he thinks, flexing his fingers before curling them into a fist and smashing through the door with a single punch. He gropes blindly for the handle on the other side before his fingers settle around it. He twists, opening the door and walking inside.

The room beyond is empty and devoid of color, completely unlike what it had been the last time Jaime was here. All of M’gann’s belongings are gone, taken. There’s no body, no evidence whatsoever of a fight or of a wound gone bad. It’s as if she simply… vanished.

“M’gann?” Jaime whispers.

The curtains flap in the wind through the open window, the only movement in the lifeless room. It is his only answer.

~~

“Hey,” he greets Rose as he passes her in the hallway, handing her the coffee in his left hand but keeping the one in his right for himself. “Sleep well?”

“Not really,” she admits, taking it from his hands with a grateful nod. “You?”

Jaime sighs. “Not really.”

Nothing more needs to be said—what happened last night was horrible enough without needing to discuss it.

And still… he feels the urge to cover for his kind-of friend, even if what he did was seriously shitty, accident or not. “Listen, I’m sure Eddie thought he was being sweet when he… you know. Are you sure you want to drop him over it? You two were like best friends, right? Maybe if you ju—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are anything like what I think they’re about to be, it’s gonna be you that gets a broken nose next,” Rose warns, closing herself off so fast Jaime has to swallow hard to vanish the sudden dryness in her throat. “Drop it.”

“Fine, okay, sorry,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Good.”

There’s a long silence, and then, “What are you going to do, then?” Jaime asks, biting his lip. “About Eddie, I mean.”

Rose snorts. “Whatever the hell that thing is, it sure as hell isn’t Eddie anymore.”

Jaime’s eyebrows rise his hairline. “The heck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nevermind,” she says, moving on before Jaime can press the topic. “I… probably punch someone who cares about me really hard, knowing me.” She pushes her hair back with one hand and sighs, a little bitterly. “It’s what I do best, it seems like.”

Jaime doesn’t dare touch that last part with a five foot pole. “You mean Cassie?”

“Might be best,” Rose agrees, taking a long sip from her coffee cup and licking her lips afterwards… before suddenly grinning widely at him. “Mmh, this is good. Thanks for making the trip, by the way. I know it wasn’t a short one.”

“I was going there anyway,” Jaime lies, wondering why Rose was acting so nice to him all of a sudden. Maybe it was the coffee? He might need to fetch her a cup more often if it meant she’d be nicer to him in the future.

“Uh huh,” she snorts, turning to walk away. “See you around, Jaime.”

“You too, Rose,” he replies, before something suddenly occurs to him. “Hey, wait a moment, actually.”

Rose stops, turning her head to look back at him. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to spar with Cassie right now?” The image of her glaring furiously down at her plate for no reason at all flashes through his mind. “I don’t think she’s in a good mood today.”

“Worried about little old me now?” Her tone turns bitter again all of a sudden, so fast Jaime’s head spins trying to keep up with her sudden mood shifts. “And here I thought I ‘scared the poop out of you’.”

Jaime has the decency to look sheepish. “You… heard that, huh?”

“I did. So why don’t you keep your advice to yourself and let me worry about my own girlfriend, huh?” she sneers, walking away before Jaime can come up with a reply.

“Oh, come on, I didn’t even…” Jaime trails off. Wait. Girlfriend?

Huh.

That’s new.

Guess they finally got it over with.

And yet… hadn’t Rose told Cassie to never lay a hand on her again after they’d pulled her out of that vision? What was that about? Did they…

Oh, whatever, he thinks, mentally cutting himself off. It’s none of my business anyway.

He doesn’t think much of it until later, when he walks into the unisex bathroom on the fifth floor and sees Rose standing in front of the mirror dabbin at her face with a makeup stick in the dark.

“Uh,” he coughs, taking a step back towards the door. I didn’t even know Rose wore makeup. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll, just, um—”

“Go in the stall,” she cuts him off, not turning to look at him. “I’m just using the mirror.”

“Uh, okay,” he says, too taken aback to argue. He turns towards the stall, but as he does so, he catches sight of Rose’s reflection in the mirror—and pauses misstep, his eyes widening.

Rose’s one good eye was encircled by the blackest, nastiest bruise he’d ever seen, so large and ugly the eye itself was nearly swelled shut. Jaime starts—he didn’t even know Rose could get bruised, had always assumed her healing factor would take care of any minor injuries like that before they became notable. He’s certainly never seen her with a bruise. Cuts, yeah. But bruises? Nope. Not once.

“Are you…” Jaime starts, his voice trailing away when Rose makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat.

“Sparring injury. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sparing’s not supposed to leave injuries.”

“Well, it did this time,” Rose says impatiently, turning her head to glare at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to do something here.”

Her words from earlier run through his mind. “Did Cassie…?”

Every muscle in Rose’s body tenses so suddenly he visibly flinches. “Did Cassie what?” she grinds out, her tone the angriest he’s ever heard from her.

Holy poop, I’m gonna die, he thinks first, quickly followed by, no, wait, Khaji, I’m fine, don’t deploy the suit.

“Well, did she, uh…” he starts, trailing off. It’s such a ridiculous thought he can’t even bring himself to voice it. Cassie can be pretty intense at times, sure, passionate, yeah, stubborn, absolutely, angry, definitely… but she wouldn’t let herself seriously hurt fellow Titans no matter how on edge she was. He quickly change tracks. “Y’know, go overboard a bit by accident?”

Rose relaxes so quickly it gives him whiplash. Her shoulders loosen, her features soften, her fists unclench… it’s like some higher entity flicked her anger switch off and reset her to an earlier mood. Before he can comment on this, she turns her face back to the mirror and goes back to dabbing at it with the stick. “It’s nothing I couldn’t take.”

That’s… not reassuring, either.

“You know you don’t have to ‘take’ anything from a teammate, right?” Jaime asks slowly, not only kind of alarmed now but quite frankly disturbed. A nagging voice in the back of his head keeps telling him something about this just… isn’t right. Rose has been so… off lately. It’s like someone crawled under her skin and found it a too-snug fit, like someone was sat down and told to study a list of all of Rose’s mannerisms and speech-isms without bothering to provide them with the context to them. “Much less from someone who’s supposed to be your partner in… well, everything.”

“Uh huh,” Rose says disinterestedly, turning her face this way and that to observe herself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There’s something strangely familiar in the way she’s…

A memory flashes in his mind’s eye. He had once walked in on Traci standing in front of the mirror, dabbing at a spot on her cheek with a stick just like the one Rose is using now.

“What’s that?” he had asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, this?” She had held it up. “It’s…”

Concealer.

It’s not makeup, he realizes with a start. It’s concealer!

Rose isn’t giving herself a foundation, she’s trying to cover up the bruise!

He… he shouldn’t point this out. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, after how Rose just reacted to him even vaguely implying Cassie might have hurt her on purpose.

And yet…

“If it’s really just a sparring injury,” he says, very carefully, “why are you trying to cover it up?”

Rose stiffens. Very slowly, she drops the stick into the sink—Jaime can hear it clank against the marble—and grabs the edges of it. Then she just… stays like that, staring down at the sink like it was a divination pool in one of those shitty mmos people swore were supposed to be fun. Jaime waits, and waits, and waits, and just when he has given up on her ever answering and turned towards the door she speaks again, her voice quiet. “It made daddy feel guilty.”

His hand freezes on the doorknob. “What?”

“Looking at it,” she elaborates, like that explained anything. Jaime hears the creak of her gloves as her fingers tighten on the sink. “She… she didn’t mean to. She told me so.”

There’s a very long pause as Jaime turns around and just… stares at Rose.

“What did you just say?” he finally asks, just to make sure it wasn’t his imagination.

For a moment, nothing happens, and then Rose slightly turns her face, her one eye piercing Jaime with its intensity. He can’t move. He’s pinned in place, speared through the heart by the cold blue ice swimming in its depths. “What do you mean?”

“I… what you just said, it was…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rose says cooly. “I never said anything to you.”

“I…”

“Did you hear something, Jaime?” she asks slowly, and something about her voice makes Jaime feel like the bug his persona is named after.

“I…uh, I…”

“Did you?” she insists, her gloves creaking again, and suddenly Khaji Da is screeching alerts into his mind, demanding he summon the suit, threatening him with assuming direct control if he doesn’t comply. He forces his alien ride-along back as harshly as he can and takes a step back, then two.

“No,” he says, his voice almost a whisper, but he can’t for the life of him make it louder. His throat is so dry…

She looks amused. “No?”

“No, I didn’t,” he breathes. “I never heard you say anything.”

“I thought not.” Her lips slowly curl into a half-smirk, and like a switch, it’s Rose again. “See you later, Jaime.”

“I… see you later, Rose,” he breathes, blindly groping for the door knob, unwilling to turn his back to her after whatever the heck that was about. His fingers close around it and he hails it open, harder than he meant to, and he has to consciously slow down to cover up the terrified action before Rose is tipped off to his rapidly rising terror. He holds the door open with his foot and slowly starts exiting the room, keeping his eyes on Rose the entire time, like she’d change again if he looked away.

He waits until he hears the door shut behind him to breathe again, only now feeling the way his heart is pumping a mile a minute.

What the actual duck?

~~

He’s fully convinced himself the entire thing in the bathroom was some kind of cuckoo hallucination by the next day, despite Khaji doggedly insisting it wasn’t and requesting permission to label Rose as an enemy in his systems.

“For the last time, Khaji,” he says out loud as he pushes open the door to the gym—Cassie had gotten rid of the automatic doors some days ago, for reasons Jaime couldn’t really understand—something about buying newer, more reinforced models. “Rose isn’t…” he trails off, catching sight of the titular ex-mercenary running on her personal treadmill near the back wall, her hair pulled back, a towel slung around her bare shoulders. He smiles, reassured by such a normal sight; he’s scared poopless of Rose by his own admission, but just because he knows she could totally crack his skull like a watermelon if he put his head under her foot while she was running doesn’t mean he’s not still glad to see someone acting normally around here for once.

“Jaime Reyes, nothing about this situation is normal,” the Scarab warns, it’s robotic voice sounding actually frustrated. “Do not go near her. I repeat, do not—”

“Hey, Rose,” he calls out as he walks past her, receiving only a grunt in response. “What’s up?”

Khaji Da screeches it’s displeasure into his mind, but he pointedly ignores it.

“Nothing much,” Rose replies in between bouts of heavy breathing. Jaime looks at her machine’s display and sees she’s running at an average speed nearly twice that of Usain Bolt at his prime. “You?”

“Nothing much,” he says, reassured by how normal she’s acting that the whole thing in the bathroom was just his imagination. “I just felt like doing some weights today.

“Good for you,” Rose pants, a grin in her voice. “You could use some bulki—augh!”

Jaime turns to see something impossible—Rose Wilson collapsed on the ground, clutching her leg, having fallen off the treadmill like an amateur.

“Uh, you okay?” he asks hesitantly, more confused than concerned—he’d been pretty sure Rose was biologically incapable of being clumsy up until now.

“Fuck… off,” Rose spits, gritting her teeth and trying to stand… only to fall on her ass a second time with a pained grunt. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.

“Hey, I’m just wondering if you’re okay,” Jaime protests, instead of voicing that particular out loud, because he’s not in fact suicidal.

“Well, stop wondering—I’m fine,” she snarls, trying to stand up again and failing for the third time. “Just… tripped. I…”

“Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da says in his mind, making Rose’s voice fade into the background. “I have detected information you might want to hear.”

“Spill,” he says out loud, cutting Rose off mid-sentence and earning himself “The Look”—his name for the weird looks people always gave him when he started seemingly talking to himself.

“Subject Rose “Ravager” Wilson has a severely torn muscle in her lower left calf,” it reports, “likely due to to significant overtaxing over a very short period of time.”

“That’s…”

“Not all,” the Scarab interrupts. “She also has several slightly older injuries that would typically require medical attention, including two cracked ribs, a bruised pelvis, and a fractured leg.”

Jaime rounds on Rose, incredulous. “You were running forty two miles an hour on a broken leg?!”

Rose scowls up at him. “How did you…?”

“Nevermind that,” Jaime interrupts, kneeling down in front to Rose and offering her his hand. “Are you insane or what?”

Rose slaps aside his hand and slowly, painfully, gets up on her own. “You don’t understand,” she grinds out, teeth gritted against the pain.

“Then help me understand,” he demands, reaching out to steady her as she stumbles. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this rate.”

“She needs me,” Rose snarls, pushing him away. “That’s worth a little pain.”

“Who, Rose?” he retorts, exasperated, feeling like he’s going insane. What the hell was up with everyone? “Who needs you so badly you’d kill yourself to help them?”

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and he turns to see Cassie standing in the doorway. “Everything okay in here?

He doesn’t miss the way her eyes jealously linger on the closeness between him and Rose for a moment longer than excusable.

Jaime opens his mouth to say something like, “Did you do this to her?”, but Rose beats him to the punch.

“Everything’s fine, da—dear,” Rose assures her, and it’s so obviously such a not-Rose thing to say that Jaime seriously contemplates whether he’s actually still asleep and this isn’t some really weird dream.

“Good,” Cassie says, her eyes flickering again to Jaime before they round on Rose, “cause I was wondering if you wanted to spar again today.”

A flash of dread crosses Rose’s face, so obvious and unveiled even Cassie must have plainly caught it. “I’d love to.”

“Great!” Cassie beams, and the world’s not only gone off its axis, it’s detached completely and is currently heading towards a black hole. “Training room 3A?”

Rose gives a pained grin. “It’s a date.”

Cassie’s smile widens, and she turns and walks out of the room. Jaime turns to Rose, aiming to silently implore her not to go… only to find her already following after Cassie, trotting a bit—fractured leg notwithstanding—to keep up.

I’m in a freaking madhouse, Jaime realizes.

~~

Jaime taps his fingers against his leg, carefully not looking at either Conner or Bart, who are seated on the floor in front of him playing a fighting game. It’s his turn next, but try as he might, he finds he just can’t concentrate on that with everything that’s happened.

He tries to dismiss the urge to ask the others about it, but it eventually it grows too strong for him, and he concedes to it. “So… Rose has been acting pretty weird lately.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause.

“Has she?” says Conner, too curiously for it to be genuine. “I haven’t noticed.”

His heart skips a beat for reasons he can’t entirely articulate. Conner probably notices. He tries not to think about that.

“Hmm,” he says noncomitally, his eyes flickering over to the other boy. “What about you, Bart? Have you noticed anything?”

There’s an even longer pause.

“Nope,” Bart says slowly “Can’t say I have.”

~~

“She’s just stressed,” Rose tells him later, as they both sit on the roof looking at the stars. It had been her and Eddie’s favorite spot once, he knows, but Eddie never comes out of his room anymore. “Fighting me helps her, lets her gauge how hard she can go on normal opponents now that she’s not holding back as much anymore. She’s been doing a pretty good job of pulling her punches back so far.”

He’d be more inclined to believe her if it wasn’t for the brand-new cast over her wrist, the sheer white of it at a stark contrast to the thin strings of Rose’s blue bikini. “If you say so .”

“I do,” she says plainly, taking a long puff from her cigarette with her free hand. When she exhales, she blows out the smoke in a perfect ring. She watches it rise high up in the air for a moment, before wrestling a small stone free from the railing and handing it to him. “Throw it.”

“Huh?” Jaime says intelligently.

“Throw it. Through the ring. It should be pretty easy for you…” She grins. “…unless it’s actually the suit that does all the aiming for you.”

Jaime’s feels his lip curl into a smile. “What do I get if I do get it through?” he asks, cocking his arm back.

“You’ll see. Throw it.”

He does. It gets through. His smile widens.

“What’s my prize?” he asks, turning to Rose… before his smile fades at the look of dread on her face. “Rose?”

“I thought… I thought it was just a dream,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Jaime. “That…”

“Thought what was just a dream?” Jaime asks, frowning.

Rose turns her head to look at him. There’s something in her eyes he can’t quite place. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but just when Jaime opens his mouth to speak again, she says, “Don’t do it tomorrow.”

“Do what?”

“You know what. Don’t do it tomorrow,” she says, before standing up and walking away without another word.

Jaime blinks. “Rose?”

She does not look back, but Jaime swears he can hear her mutter, “Trust me.”

~~

“Ok, let’s see what you’ve been hiding,” Jaime says, cracking his fingers and getting to work on cracking Tim’s encryption.

I took a hacking class in high school. How hard could it be?

Very hard, as it turns out. Jaime’s on the verge of giving up when he finds a note taped to the bottom of the desk that reads, “New password is SpoilerAlert. Don’t forget this time. You owe at least that to her, you utter failure.”

It’s written in Tim’s hand. Jaime decides not to think too hard about it.

“Ok, let’s see what the hell is going on here…”

As he logs into Tim’s private files, the grandfather clock set against the far wall of Tim’s office chimes with the coming of the hour.

Tick

“—this is mercy!”

He shuts his eyes when Eddie starts screaming. Goddamn it. They should’ve realized…

Tock

“You made me do it. You made me.”

Tick

There’s a horrible squelching noise as the thief’s head yields beneath the force of Cassie’s fist, spraying pink matter and bits of flesh everywhere. The video wobbles as the person holding the phone steps back in shock, an action mirrored by everyone in the small crowd of criminals… until the screams begin.

“No, wait!” Cassie yells as everyone in the crowd save for the mysterious recorder starts to run, holding her hands out in a gesture of peace—which might be more effective if the dead thief’s brains weren’t still dripping from them. “I didn’t mean to! I…” she trails off, looking down at her hands like she’s never seen them before, like they belong to someone else. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.”

Tock

The clock chimes again by the time Jaime stops vomiting.

Tick

“If you’re seeing this, it means I’m leaving,” M’gann says into the security camera. “Please, Tim, show this tape to the others. I don’t want… I can’t say goodbye in person after what I just saw in your mind, but…”

Tock

“Ravager, huh?” The thing that wasn’t Eddie asked, grinning at the picture on his phone, which is pincered carefully between two massive red fingers. “Mmmh, I’d like to ravage her. I think she’d make a wonderfully feisty bride, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What, uh, makes you think that?” asks Tim, who is clearly uncomfortable with the situation… though not uncomfortable enough to leave it, clearly.

“Call it a feeling,” Not-Eddie says, his grin widening. “I have several, you know. I know these things.”

“Several…?”

“Brides,” the demon clarifies, his eyes literally blazing with mirth. “All of them beautiful and very happy with their place in life, I’ll have it said. I’m nothing if not a sensitive and attentive husband.”

“Right…”

“How much for the Ravager?” he asks, leaning forward and placing his palms on the desk, unaware or uncaring how his fiery hands singe the wood black underneath them. “You mortals do still like gold, don’t you?”

“Uh…”

“Or perhaps… it is power you seek?” Not-Eddie presses, his grin widening. “I can see your desires… you think yourself intelligent, little boy, but I can give you a mind that would dwarf all others. Would you like that?”

Jaime wishes he couldn’t tell Tim was tempted.

“I… no,” he says finally, swallowing thickly, as if mourning the opportunity he’s just rejected.

“No?” The demon raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Hmm… perhaps I misjudged you. It happens sometimes, it must be said. Very well, I could also offer you…”

“No, I meant…” he trails off, and for a moment Jaime thinks it’s because he’s struggling to think of a way to explain the concept of women having rights to a demon before Tim’s next words smash that optimistic hope to bits. “I meant, she’s really not mine to sell in the first place. She’s Cassie’s thing, not mine.”

Jaime’s breath stutters in disbelief. What the actual…?

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and even if she knew about your, uh, transformation, she’d never give Rose up after all the trouble she went to keep her around, even though it’s obviously the pragmatic thing to do. Sorry.”

“I see.”

But, um,” Tim starts, licking his lips. “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t get you… other things, if you made it worth my while… and didn’t tell Cassie.”

The demon looks intrigued. “Go on.”

Tim leans forward, a greedy glint coming over his eyes. “Well, you demons like making deals with desperate people, right?”

“You could say that.”

Tim’s lips slowly curl into a smile, and something about it makes Jaime’s mouth go dry. “How would you like to get your hands on a few supervillains?”

Tick

“Oh, G-God, Tim, I-I actually d-did it,” Cassie sobs into Tim’s shoulder, nearly incoherent with regret. “I-I did it, and… she… she didn’t even wake up! She… she trusted me, subconsciously, and I… I…”

“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” Tim says softly, rubbing soothing circles into Cassie’s back. “You had to. She left you no other choice.”

“That’s b-bullshit, and you know it!” Cassie yells, pushing away from Tim and wiping furiously at her eyes. “Great Hera, what have I done? I… I… I’m worse than Slade.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, even you don’t believe that.”

“And why not?” Cassie snaps, furiously rounding on Tim, tears running down her cheeks. “At least Slade had the decency to look her in the eyes when he did it! I snuck up on her while she was sleeping! Like some… some coward!”

Tim sighs. “Look, we both know we couldn’t just let someone with as much intel on us as Rose just walk out of here weeks before the operation… and if it makes you feel better, I condensed the formula so that you would only have to do it once instead of every weeks, like Slade.”

Cassie sniffs, wiping away a tear in the corner of her eye with her finger. “I… I need to tell her.”

Tim’s face visibly twitches in a way that makes Jaime’s heart fearfully skip a beat. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” she says fiercely, blinking to clear the moisture in her eyes. “This is wrong, Tim. What I did was… horrible. I knew how scared she was of being controlled like that again… and I still did it!” She wipes at her eyes and turns towards the door, and for a moment it seems everything is gonna work out okay. “I can’t stand it a moment longer. I have to tell her.”

His eyes flicker to the date of the recording. It’s nearly a month old.

Rose had still been acting weird less than a day ago.

Dammit, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. Goddamn all you people, you’ve all gone insane.

He suddenly wants nothing more than to be at home with his sister, and his parents, in that place he grew up in, where everyone speaks Spanish and there are barbecues every Sunday and things are simply and easy and people he used to care about don’t turn out to secretly be massive douchebags, and—

“Do what you want,” he hears Tim say, seemingly uncaring. “I’m just wondering if you’ve thought the consequences through.”

Don’t stop, he feels himself thinking, even though he knows full well she is going to stop. Don’t listen to him. Keep going. Tell Rose. Make it make sense again.

“What do you mean?” Cassie’s voice asks hesitantly, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes again to know that she’s stopped. He still does it anyway.

“I mean, what do you think is gonna happen when you tell her you drugged her?” Tim asks sardonically, chuckling a little when Cassie’s expression tightens. “See, even you know I’m right. Remind me, how many times has she tried to kill Slade by now…?”

“I…”

“Four? Five?” He grins. “And like you said, at least Slade had the decency to look her in the eye when he did it. You… not so much.”

“I… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, if you tell Rose what you did, you lose her forever,” Tim says, a bit more gently. “I mean, she was gearing up to leave even before you drugged her. She’s not ever going to forgive you if you tell her. You know that, right?”

“That… that doesn’t matter,” Cassie says, too firmly, like she’s trying to convince not only Tim but herself too. “What I did to her was wrong. I have to make up for it.”

Tim looks at her, then sighs, standing up and walking towards the medical cabinet in the back of the lab. “Okay.”

“I… really?”

“Yeah,” Tim says, pulling open one of the drawers and pulling out a long, thin syringe filled with an unfamiliar green liquid. “This is the antidote. You give this to Rose, she’ll be back to normal within the hour.”

He turns around and holds it out for Cassie to grab. “Take it.”

Do it. Come on. Please. It’s right there. You can fix everything if you just take it. It’s right there.

Cassie hesitates. “The serum… it’s not really mind control, is it?”

Jaime can Tim’s lips quirk up slightly. He’s just won, he realizes. “Nope. It just enhances feelings that are already there.”

By which he means it sends all of her emotions into overdrive and makes her extremely unstable. Goddamn it. How are you falling for this? You’re Wonder Girl. Use your freaking brain.

“Maybe… maybe it would be best to wait a bit before giving her the antidote,” Cassie says slowly, looking like she herself doesn’t believe what is saying. “Just to make sure the whole… thing is not as raw as it would be right now. Besides… since it’s a new version, it could have side effects we don’t know about, right? Maybe it would be best to stand back and study her case for a bit to make sure we don’t accidentally put her in distress by ‘curing’ her.”

Tim’s lips curl into an open smile. “I knew you’d come around.”

Tock

Operation Titanomachy.

It’s a strange name for a file.

Jaime clicks on it, more by curiosity than anything else, and his eyes widen at what he sees inside. There are plans for a full takeover of the government, graphs showcasing “military infiltration levels”, monthly political pie charts that are steady turning more and more extremist with every month, blueprints for state-run super-weapons, everything and anything an up-and-coming supervillain would need to—

An alarm suddenly blares in his head, and he turns, his suit materializing around him as the smoke pellets roll along the floor and hiss open, expelling what Khaji labels a deadly neurotoxin into the air. It’s about as dangerous to his suit’s air filtration system as a pebble and about as useful, though, so Jaime simply switches his vision settings to thermal and blasts Tim straight in the chest with his hand cannon. He flies back, out of the cloud of smoke and into the far wall, which he collapses against with a pained moan. Jaime marches right over to him and grabs him by the cape before he can recover, dragging him along the floor as he marches straight to the conference room.

One way or another, this insanity ends now.

“Jaime Reyes, this course is I’ll-advised,” the Scarab warns him, but he doesn’t care anymore. Six months. Six months of sitting there like a lamp, watching his friends turn into murders, and for what? For them to plot to take over the government? For Tim to sell incarcerated supervillains to a demon—and not just any demon, but the one that had killed Eddie? For Cassie to drug Rose the exact same way her father drugged her? No. He’s not stopping to consider a better option. He’d already let this go too far.

“J-Jaime,” Tim gasps, but it isn’t Jaime he’s speaking to anymore, it’s Blue Beetle. He has just enough time to squawk out a “w-wait!” before he founds himself picked up and lobbed through the door, which breaks under his weight and deposits him on the floor amidst a pile of broken wood.

“Nobody moves!” Blue Beetle snarls, his arm cannon raised and pointed at the room’s inhabitants, who look up in shock at his entrance. “I’ve had just about enough of this!”

The conference room is a little different from how it was the last time he was in here. The table is new, a holographic map of the world with several places outlined in red. At the back, Wonder Girl’s chair, recognizable by the ‘W’ symbol on the back of it, has been placed on a slight dais, all the better to look out over the contents of the map… and, perhaps unintentionally, down on the people around it.

Looks like they’ve already gotten started on all the fascist imagery. Figures.

Not that there were all that many people around the table—for whatever reason, only Wonder Girl, Superboy, and now Red Robin were in the room with him, with Rose obviously absent and Impulse nowhere to be found. As for Superboy and Wonder Girl, they were both seated some distance apart, but jumped to their feet at his entrance.

“Jaime, wh—” Wonder Girl cries, before she is cut off by an energy blast hitting the wall an inch from her ear. “Hey!”

“I know. I know what you’re plotting,” he reveals, taking a step forward, his helmet retracting rom his head so he can look her in the eyes. “And I know what you did.”

Wonder Girl visibly swallows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liar,” he accuses, lips twisting into a scowl. “How does it feel knowing you betrayed everything you stood for? That you betrayed the one person who’s never going to forgive you for it?”

Wonder Girl looks stricken for a moment, before her eyes flicker to his cannon hand.

“Jaime, think about this,” she warns, in a tone usually reserved for stupid, misbehaving children. “We’re your friends. We don’t wanna…”

“Lady, I don’t know who the hell you people are anymore,” Blue Beetle interrupts, priming his cannon, “but you’re sure as hell not my friends.”

Wonder Girl’s eyes flicker again, this time to something behind him, and by the time Blue Beetle thinks to turn two fiery-hot hands have clamped tightly onto his face from behind. A sizzling noise fills his ears, and it takes him a moment to register its his own flesh that’s burning. He screams, feeling his face boil beneath his assailant’s fingertips, and turns, shoving away the thing that wasn’t Eddie and then sending him crashing back with an energy blast. The massive demon—for, it seems, Red Devil had been metamorphosing somehow in his room and has now emerged as a muscular, eight feet tall version of himself—lets out a grunt and lies still as its back hits the wall, but Blue Beetle doesn’t let his guard down; he turns and transforms his left hand into a blade just in time to block Wonder Girl’s descending fist. Sparks fly as the alien metal clashes against her steel bracelet, but Blue Beetle doesn’t lean into the lock, knowing Wonder Girl is much stronger than he is, instead choosing to send a kick quick to her stomach to get some distance in between them and turn to face his other opponent—not fast enough, though. Superboy tackles him around the waist and flies them both into the wall, prompting a pained gasp from Blue Beetle as all the air is forced out of his ribs, and he doesn’t stop there: hits start raining down on his head, one after the other, so hard his helmet starts cracking, unable to protect his head from the powerful blows until… now, Khaji! His chest opens up, expelling a highly concentrated beam of energy that sends Superboy crashing into and through the ceiling, going up and up and up at an angle until he is blasted well out of the Tower. There’s no time to catch his breath, however, as Wonder Girl’s lasso suddenly snaps taut around his wrist and pulls him, first into the wall, then, as he crashes down, into a punch that completely shatters his helmet and leaves him seeing stars on the ground.

Ouch. He needs to—

He rolls back, jumping to his feet and into the air as bomb pellets explode on the ground beneath him, summoning his wings and manifesting an energy shield to protect himself from the blast. The force of it crashes against his shield, and he can feel the searing heat ford around him like a stone in a river, but he is unharmed, and a moment later he makes Red Robin pay for getting up by strafing him with his energy cannon. He dodges the first, the second, but not the third blast, and Blue Beetle lands on the ground to finish him off… only to find his cannon hand pulled away by Wonder’s Girl lasso at the last moment, directing his blast into the floor instead. He turns and yanks on the lariat with his free hand, aiming to pull her off her feet in a move he once saw Rose use in one of her and Wonder Girl’s sparring matches, but he isn’t Rose, and this isn’t sparring; Wonder Girl not only keeps her feet, but pulls back, and the short tug of war ends the only way it could—with Blue Beetle speeding through the air straight into Wonder Girl’s grip. She wastes no time raising him high into the air before turning and smashing him down into the fancy new holographic conference table, which breaks under his weight, leaving him dazed in a pile of broken glass.

Okay, might have beaten bitten off a bit more than I could chew here, he thinks, shaking off his discombobulation and dodging just in time for Wonder Girl’s fist to leave a crater where his head had been a moment prior.

Looks like Rose was right, she really is pulling her punches. Not.

Cassie doesn’t let up, her fists surging towards him with the speed and accuracy of homing missiles, and he—he—

He feels his neck be seized from behind, and knows in that moment it’s about to be snapped.

No, that can’t be, he thinks inanely in his last moments of life, reaching up to grab futilely at the arm around his neck. Rose said don’t do it tomorrow, and I didn’t, unless… he focuses his gaze on the window. There is light coming from underneath the curtains.

It’s morning.

“Oh, he breathes, and he hears the crunch long before he feels it.

~~

There is a very long silence as Eddie stands over Jaime, panting.

“Eddie,” Cassie breathes, feeling a pit open in her stomach. “Eddie, what did you do?”

Eddie looks up… and slowly smiles.

“Doomed boy,” the wind whispers in their ears as it fled them, like the crowd had fled Cassie after what she did. “Doomed, doomed, doomed.”

[bouncybongfairy]

hello! I hope your having a wonderful day/night!! I hope you're doing request if not then ignore this!! Sorry!

😭🙏Okay so what if Jamie aka blue bettle had a little sister like the age of 14 she always helped her family in any way and was like Jamie's best friend and was really overprotective but when they brought the girl (it was the girl named Jenny or something I hope yk who I mean!!😭) and when the girl tried to explain everything to the family (about the bettle in him and stuff if yk the sence of what I mean..💀🙏) (y/n) is just pissed at Jenny and was like "this is you're fault!" AND was like telling her off and Jamie tried to calm them down but the looked at him pissed and was like "I SAW A STUPID F**KING ROBOT THINGY LANCH ON YOU'RE FACE NO I AM NOT GONNA CALM DOWN-"

(Ngl i thought the part where the bettle launched on his face was funny 💀 but I hope you like it and have a wonderful day/night!! Also eat food and drink water also get some rest!!)

A New Perspective

Blue Beetle FanFic

Summary: As Jaime's little sister, you've had a hard time adjusting to how different everything is now. During a family movie night, your built-up resentment towards Jenny comes out. Which causes a fight between you and Jaime.

Word Count: 1.5k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Things at home have been more lively ever since Jaime came from school. How could it not when he was now Blue Beetle? Everyone in the family seemed to be around more, which you really enjoyed. Even though Jaime is back home, he’s been so busy with his new identity and Jenny. She was over a lot and ever since everything happened everyone treated her like family. You were nice to her but deep down you had feelings of resentment. You didn’t voice this thought because you didn’t want to rock the boat while everyone was healing from Dad’s death. Everyone had a lot on their plate and you didn’t want to give anyone unneeded stress due to drama. Instead, you just tried to enjoy the time you had with Jaime. As siblings, you guys have always been really close but obviously, distance did nothing but change that. You tried to tell yourself that as you get older the bond would change but not so soon. Right now you were on the bus home from school, excited because Milagro, Jaime, and you were going to watch the new Disney movie Elementals together. When you guys were younger this was a weekly tradition. As everyone got older and busier this fizzled out but you were so excited that everyone was back on board. Last night the three of you went out and bought a bunch of snacks and drinks. You practically ran home from the bus stop and to your surprise, nobody was home yet. Dropping your backpack near the front door, you went upstairs and grabbed a couple of blankets from the hall closet. Layer them on the couch to make them more comfy, adding some of the plushies off your bed. 

After arranging the couch, you went and showered. You ran the mile in P.E. today and felt sticky from sweat. Changing into sweatpants and a tee-shirt, you walked into the dining room still drying your hair with a towel. Everyone was home, Milagro was pulling cookies out of the oven and Jaime came in behind you with three boxes of pizza. When you turned around to give him a hug, you saw Jenny who was standing two feet away from him. She gave everyone including you a hug, talking about how excited she was to have a movie night with everyone. This irritated you, especially because this was the first time doing a family night since Dad died. Just seemed insensitive for her to be here right now. You just smiled and got yourself a plate of pizza and wings before getting comfortable in your spot. It was taking a while for everyone to sit down, most of them were just talking in the kitchen but eventually made their way out. Jaime, Jenny, and Milagro were sitting on the couch and you were sitting on the couch and you were sitting with your back against the couch by their feet. Once the movie started, everything was going fine until Jaime and Jenny started whispering to each other. Laughing and giggling with each other. It was driving you crazy and when you checked to see if your other sister was as annoyed as she was on her phone. Really gave you a reality check there because you thought this meant as much to them as it did to you. You sighed and leaned back, you had about as much as you could handle. Suddenly, Jenny’s phone rings. 

“Babe, will you come with me to take this call?” Jenny asked.

“Yeah, hey y/n we’ll be right back,” he said. 

“Whatever I didn’t want to do this movie night anyway,” you said, setting your plate on the coffee table. 

“Woah, are you okay?” he asked, now everyone was staring at you. 

“Yeah, are you? Or do you need to ask Jenny before you answer?” you asked sarcastically. 

“Oh my god, y/n chill out,” Milagro said. 

“No why should I, this was the first time we did a movie night since Dad died and you invited her? That’s just so fucking weird and the entire time you guys are laughing and giggling during the movie. Just weird considering she’s the reason he’s gone,” you scoffed. 

“What the fuck y/n you can’t say things like that. Especially because it’s not her fault!” Jaime yelled at you, pointing his finger. 

“Are you kidding me? Is it not her fault?! He died because of the stress of you becoming Blue Beetle and who gave you the beetle? Jenny,” you said,  raising your voice to match his tone, “Not to mention it’s hard on everyone in the family now because of that stupid thing. It was traumatizing to watch the bug literally embedded itself into your skin. That’s not normal and for some reason everyone acts like nothing really happened. She’s the one who started all this yet she’s welcomed here like she’s an honored guest or something,” you said standing up. 

“I’m so sorry you feel this way y/n, it was never my intention-” Jenny started but you shut her down pretty fast.

“Can you please like, never fucking talk to me especially right now?” you sneered at her. 

“Y/N what the fuck! You can’t blame everything going wrong in your life on her, okay!” Jaimed exclaimed.

Nobody said anything, instead they just started as if they never knew you had a voice or something. You grabbed your phone and stormed off. The last thing you wanted to do was spend any more time with them. You grabbed your skateboard and rode down to the park semi near your house. You cried a little on your way down there, you just couldn’t believe Jaime would take her side over yours. As if her feelings are more valid than yours. Maybe the way it came out was wrong but what you were saying at its core was true. Once you got to the park you saw your friend Scorpy sitting underneath the play set. When they saw you, they started calling out for you to join them. You wiped your eyes and picked up your board. As you walked over to them, your phone started blowing. Calling from your family asking you where you went, you set it to not disturb and shove it into your pocket. 

“Hey y/n, are you okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah me and my brother just got into a fight over his girlfriend but I don’t really want to get into all the details,” you said sitting down next to her. 

“I get it, families can get messy,” she said, taking a large hit out of her pen. 

“Do you wanna hit to calm down?” she asked. You stared at the pen and looked at her as if she was fucking with you. You grabbed it and took a hit but ended up coughing your brains out, which made her laugh. 

You didn’t go crazy on the pen because you still wanted to talk to Jaime when you got home. Now that you’ve calmed down you realize that obviously you shouldn’t have blown up on them at that moment. You could have talked to them privately and communicated your feelings. You thought about what you were going to say the entire time you rode home. It was dark now and you knew everyone was going to be worried and maybe mad. You stood in front of the door for a couple moments, scared to face everyone. When you walked in, your mom rushed over to you and gave you a slap on the arm for being gone so long. She was understanding that you needed some time to cool off but she was just worried. You went into your room and Jaime was sitting on the bed. This may sound petty but you were happy that Jenny was nowhere in sight. 

“I’m sorry for blowing up on her like that,” you said, playing with your finger nails. 

“If you were feeling that way why wouldn’t you just tell me?” he asked, motioning over for you to sit down. 

“I don’t know, I guess I was just feeling insecure because ever since you got back from school you’ve been hanging out with her. I’m happy that you have a girlfriend and a life outside the family but I don’t know, I thought we’d hang out more than we have. Also she is the one who gave the Blue Beetle to you right?” you asked the last part more quietly than you said the rest.

“Well I’m glad I know that now, so I can carve out more time for you. I think we both have valid feelings, we just needed to see them from a different perspective to understand exactly how we feel. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that, I'm sorry. And yes Jenny gave me the beetle but that doesn’t mean she’s the reason for..that.” he said softly.

“Yeah I do think maybe that was me projecting a bit, I’m sorry I ruined the movie night,” you sighed.

“Everything happens for a reason kid,” he said as you guys got up to finish the movie.

[ilynpilled]

i dont wanna bring jc vs jb discourse bc ick but i saw a tweet that was like “everything complex about jb is jc” thoughts? bc personally i think the jb dynamic revolves around deconstructing knighthood and oaths and honour. cersei’s involvement is restricted to jaime’s development and has nothing to do with jaime and brienne’s dynamic so i dont know where they got that from

oh god im sorry this is kind of long 😭😭. nah you are absolutely right, JB can obviously stand on its own. and yes I agree with your read of what it is deconstructing. you can read any of my jaime metas and the complexity of their dynamic is always prevalent. however I also dont think cersei is entirely separate from it either (or has nothing to do with it, as you put it). like I think these characters and their dynamics enrich each other. I think the problem is just fandom tribalism. like a lot of JC people act like his narrative with brienne is practically irrelevant and just a little side quest for him until he returns to his “true love”, when it is absolutely key in reconstructing his character and plays an essential role in a lot of jaime’s themes, many of which are mostly outside of his relationship with cersei, like u said. same with a lot of JB shippers who place cersei into this role of “evil sister wife abuser that we will just get away from quick and it is over, no significant impact on jaime as a character from now on, it is not like this insane toxic relationship will affect him anymore since he burned that letter”. Those two dynamics foil and deepen each other so much, and have multiple thematic through-lines (like gender, rigid social constructs, identity etc) and it is so weird when either is just written off bc it kind of shows a lack of interest in jaime as a character in specific. which is also fine, don’t get me wrong. i take no issue with someone just liking brienne or cersei a lot, and only caring about jaime as an extension of their characters. but jaime exists outside of those two just as those two exist outside of him, no matter how interwoven their narratives can be. imo you don’t have to engage with something emotionally, but to refuse to even acknowledge it intellectually will lead to tunnel vision and just frankly terrible takes. takes that we can just ignore tbh

[justbringtherain]

Ted Lasso finale, my very late and random and long thoughts

I saw the episode and then it took me like 5 years to write this post but I'd like to post it anyway. Some stuff problably won't be accurate bc I've not re-watched it.

Also I'm ignoring the reddit thingy for Brendan Hunt. It's my brain and I'll cover my ears and tra-la-la around if I want to.

Also, a lot of thought abt Roy and Jaime and Keely as an ot3, as Roy/Keeley, as Roy&Jaime and as the characters in general.

I don't know how to put stuff under read more, I'm so so sorry.

So I've decided that the part from when Beard leaves to when Ted opens his eyes on the plane is a dream of a possible, probable future for everybody.

I'm ok with most of the stuff shown but even some of those are too rushed and/or too optimistic and/or too over-simplyfied. Like many ppl have already said the season suffered from too many plots who obvs did not get developed properly due to not having the time.

The one thing I fully refuse is the Jane/Beard wedding. I won't speak of the Jaime-and-James stuff bc for many different and personal reasons I just can't. The other thing I'm not really ok with is Rebecca/Dutch Guy bc I thought we established that Rebecca had finally found her family and it wasn't what she expected but it was right for her and then the dude appears and it kind of cheapens that. I loved the Dutch Guy in the Amsterdam ep. but I think that plot should have ended there.

Everything else I can see happening the same or very similar. It's just a matter of when it happens related to Ted's departure.

Re: Jaime/Keeley/Roy stuff.

I was a ride or die Keeley/Roy shipper untill I saw 3x11. Then I was hooked by the ot3 and now I will die on this hill. But talking abt Roy/Keeley: already in 3x10 after K/R hooked up it seemed very clear that Keeley had doubts abt getting back together with Roy and the next ep proved they didn't which I was fine with. They needed at least to have a much bigger convo abt what lead Roy to break up with her and the fact that he asked who the sex tape was for needed to be addressed imo bc he had absolutely no right to do it. Also Keeley can definetly use some time on her own and focus on KJPR/KBPR (we can keep the name change).

Jaime&Roy. ooooh boy do I want to write a way longer post abt these 2 starting from s2 and maybe one day I will. But to keep it short their fight was bullshit. It especially sucked the way Roy asked Jaime out like for a night between buddies and started the convo talking abt how proud he was of Jaime and then he just told him to back off from Keeley so that he could get back together with her. Yeah Roy no need to talk to Keeley -who said she wanted them to be just friends- abt that. Honestly I'm glad Jaime pushed back bc one thing is to learn to be a team player, another is to be a push over. Jaime hadn't addressed still having feelings for Keeley since 2x07 and for all we know he could have just been waiting for the right time to ask her to give it another try. Back to Roy: the way he acted kinda cheapened the moment between him and Jaime and like I said it sucks. Jaime seemed so touched and then Roy fucked it. Woah I'm being harsh on Roy.... They were both idiots (thank God they aknowledged right away) both to fight physically and then to think they had this genius idea to let Keeley choose. Like... bitches??? It was always going to be her choice!!!! At least they understand right away (kinda) that what they did was bullshit and finish the night off going for a bite togther. I understand that this was their "closure" as it was the finale, I'll leave the conversation they should have had to the fanfics.

Roy. I've been such a bitch to him but in the end he does the right thing and asks for help. And his admission to the Diamond Dogs was fucking heartbreaking bc he was so disappointed in himself. He really thought he had changed for the best and then he makes the same mistakes all over again. Which is of course perfectly normal but also not the easiest thing to understand. Both getting better and bettering ourselves are not linear and we're going to fuck up. Which is actually what also happened between Roy and Jaime bc they fell back to getting aggressive and violent with each other even though they were at a point where they could have talked it out. They regressed but it happens. And now this paragraph sort of negates what I've written above but not really. Their fight was bullshit bc they could have been able to avoid it but it can also make sense that they didn't bc they are humans. Emotions were running high and Keely is a bit of a sore topic for them. Back to Roy, but really to Brett. Kudos to the man bc Roy might be aggressive but he never made me unconfortable until the sex tape episode. When he asks Keely who was it for and then repeats the question when she goes "What?" his whole demeanor was fucking scary to me. Cold, calm but u can see it's a farcade. And it's the same demeanor we see when he tells Jaime to leave Keeley alone. And I'm probably wrong but it felt like a conscious choice, as if to say "ur feeling uncomfortable bc u're supposed to be". Who knows.

Final Roy/Keely/Jaime scene. Like I've said, I'm taking most of that scene as a "this might happen". Regarding these 3, I'm fine with it. We don't know who's with who and that I'm cool with that. But we know they're in a good place with each others and that's all that matters.

Other stuff:

Colin/Michael: no need to say anything except fuck yeah it happened! Colin just wanted to kiss his fella and he did!!! I wonder if it means he's out or if no photographer caught it so it's just something Colin finally managed/felt ready to do. And both scenarios are fine! They kissed! I screamed! I had already teared up for everything else and it got worst!

Wait if Sam actually (hopefully!) goes to play for Nigeria it's only for national games right??? The rest of the year he's still with Richmond right??? I don't want any of them to leave!!! Richmond 'till they die!!!

Last thoughts: I know I might have been kinda negative here, but I honestly liked how it ended. I smiled, I laughed, I screamed, I teared up and downright cried. Mostly, I feel like the season needed a couple more episode to expand on some stuff, but you cannot have perfection. I'm satisfied. I understand how Ted's choice can feel so disappointing and I do wish he could have stayed and maybe have Henry move to England but I also understand why the writers decided to have him move back to the US. I don't think it cancel all of his development. He needed Richmond to become a better dad and he went back feeling ready to be it.

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

You Say You’re Ok (You’re Faking, Fucked Up)

Bart Allen has perfected his happy-go-lucky persona.  After the Reach are defeated, little by little, his facade starts to crumble.

     Bart is fine.  Why wouldn’t he be?  He made it to the future, he stopped the Reach, he even has an honest-to-god best friend.  Everything is great, crash-tastic, amaze-balls, totes coolio!  So he’s fine.  Really.

     So what if he has a few nightmares?  That’s totally normal-like, everyone’s a little screwed in the head.  Especially superheroes.  It’s like in the job description or something.

     So, really.  He’s fine.

...

     It starts like this.  Bart and Jaime are playing Mario Kart in Jaime’s room after training.  It’s late, and Bart is kinda sorta exhausted, but he loves playing Mario Kart with Jaime so he doesn’t complain.  Not even when Jaime kicks his ass on Rainbow Road.  

     But then, uh oh, Bart falls asleep and he isn’t in Jaime’s room anymore.  He’s back in the future (can he still call it the future if it isn’t ever gonna happen?) and the Reach has him wearing an inhibitor collar.  

     It’s one of the ones that anchors into the skin of his neck, too.   Even with his speedster healing he still has scars from the little needle-blade-clamp thingies that kept the collar attached to his neck.  Sometimes they itch.  Sometimes they burn.  He’s good at ignoring them, mostly.

     But right now he’s back in a collar and he feels so so so heavy, like he’s got lead weights tied to his limbs and he’s panicking and he wants it offoffoffrightnowpleaseohgod.  He claws desperately at his neck, blind with panic.

     “Bart! Bart, stop, listen it’s just a dream!”  Someone is calling his name, and then his wrists are pinned and nonononono that’s bad he needs to get the collar off and he feels badheavywrongwrongwrong.

     “Hermano, please it’s me, it’s Jaime!  C’mon, man, wake up!”  The voice is there again.  Bart’s eyes fly open.  Jaime looms over him, holding his wrists against the floor.  His eyes are wide with fear and liquid with concern.

     “Jaime?” He croaks.  His throat and neck feel raw and tender, and the wood floor is hard and cool against his back.  He smells blood.

     “Yeah, ese,” Jaime says and his body sags, tension bleeding out of his frame.  He lets go of Bart’s wrists and sits back on his heels.

     Bart blinks up at him, “I- uh, what happened?”  He coughs, and the metallic taste of blood coats his throat.

     Jaime exhales, running a hand through his hair, “You fell asleep on the floor in the middle of the last round and then you must’ve had a nightmare because you started freaking out and scratching at your neck.”  Jaime looks shaken.  “I had to grab your hands, hermano, you drew blood.”

     Bart bolts upright, “I hurt you?!” he asks, frantically scanning his friend for injuries.

     Jaime shakes his head, “No, you were hurting yourself, I’m fine.”

     “Oh, okay,” Bart relaxes, “That’s good.”  He didn’t hurt Jaime.  Jaime can’t heal like Bart can, so as long as he only got himself, Bart isn’t all that upset.

     Jaime stares at him like he’s grown a second head.  “No, Bart.  Not good, es muy malo.  Dios mio, you nearly ripped open your windpipe!”  Jaime looks distraught, like someone kicked a puppy or something.

    Bart tilts his head, confused, “Yeah, but I’m fine.  It’s not like this hasn’t happened before.  You don’t need to freak out, I’ll just heal like I always do.”

     Jaime gapes at him, “That’s not better.  Just because you can heal doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter if you get hurt.”  He seems to process the other part of Bart’s response, “And what do you mean, it’s not the first time this has happened?”

     “I get nightmares sometimes, it’s no big deal,” Bart fidgets, wiggling his fingers, uncomfortable with Jaime’s overreaction.  Everyone has nightmares.  Bart’s fine, he deals with them.  

     He can tell Jaime is going to say something, so he cuts him off, “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says, avoiding eye contact.

     Jaime’s voice softens, “Bart, correcamino...” he trails off with a sigh.  “At least let me help you get cleaned up.  You’ve got blood on your neck and hands, it’s not sanitary.”

     Bart nods, “M’kay.”  He still doesn’t look Jaime in the eyes, staring at his shoulder instead.  Jaime gets to his feet and extends a hand to help Bart up.

     They shuffle down the hall to the bathroom, and Jaime rummages around underneath the sink for some hydrogen peroxide and a small towel.  Bart hops up onto the counter, swinging his legs like a little kid.  He likes the thump thump thump of his heels knocking against the counter.  Jaime huffs a small laugh at this, and something inside Bart’s chest settles.  He feels safe here with Jaime.

     The older boy straightens up, setting the items on the counter next to Bart.  With Bart sitting on the counter like this, they’re eye-level with each other and nearly nose-to-nose.  Bart stares into Jaime’s warm brown eyes.  Jaime stares back.  I could kiss him, Bart thinks.

     Bart clears his still-sore throat, breaking the tension.  “Hey, what does it mean, that word you called me?  Core-ay-cah-meeno?”

     Jaime cringes at Bart’s butchered pronunciation, then rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Oh, it means roadrunner.”

     Bart grins, warmth blooming in his chest, “I like it.”

     Jaime coughs, “Oh!  Uh, good, that’s good.”  He trails off, seemingly embarrassed.  Bart thinks he can see a hint of red in Jaime’s dark cheeks.  His stomach flip-flops.

 ...

     The next time, they’re on a mission.  It’s not going great, to say the least.  The bad guys have some Apokolyptan tech and Jaime’s getting his ass kicked worse than Bart while playing Mario Kart.

     Not that Bart is doing much better.  One of these sadistic asshats snapped his right tibia in half and the jagged edge of the bone is sticking out of his skin.  It hurts like a bitch, but Bart has plenty of experience ignoring intense pain.  He looks up just in time to see Jaime get thrown into the wall Bart’s leaning against by a blast of energy.  He slides to the floor, unmoving. 

     Bart sees red.  With an animalistic snarl, he grabs his broken leg and forces the two halves of his tibia together with a wet snap.  His vision goes white with pain, but he grits his teeth and focuses his breathing as he lets his meta healing work its magic.  He needs to get Jaime out of here.

     Turns out, he doesn’t need to worry.  The boom of Jaime’s sonic canon echoes through the abandoned warehouse and the bad guy goes flying.  Thank god for Khaji Da.  Once the bone has fused enough for him to move, Bart scrambles over to Jaime.

     The older boy is staring at him with wide eyes, “What the fuck, Bart?!”  Jaime tries to get up and yelps, clutching his side, “Madre de Dios,” he hisses.  Then, “No shit, Khaji, I got thrown into a wall.”

     Bart is frantic, “AreyouokayohmygodJaime!”

     Jaime looks up at him, “Yeah, just cracked a couple ribs and bumped my head.  What the hell was that with your leg, Bart?”

     Bart flaps his hands dissmissively, “I just forced the bone back together so it would fuse faster.  It’s an old trick I learned in the future.  Pretty crash, right?”

     Jaime just stares at him.  “¿Está usted loco?” he says incredulously.  “Bart that is not crash!  Hermano, you could seriously mess your leg up with a stunt like that,” he says, sounding horrified.

     Bart waves away his concern, “It’s fine, dude.  I’ve done it like a million times.”

     Jaime gives him a flat look, “That doesn’t make me feel better, ese.”

     Bart sighs, “Look, I’m good, okay.”  He stands up and balances on his injured leg, “See, all better!”  He wobbles, wincing as a bolt of pain shoots through his still-healing leg, but manages to not fall on his ass.

     Jaime looks unimpressed.  “Promise me you’ll at least get it checked out in the med bay,” he pleads.  “It would make me feel better to know you’re really alright.”

      Bart’s heart does a funny little squeeze at Jaime’s obvious concern, so he agrees, “Fine, mom, I’ll go to the med bay when we get back.”

      Jaime looks relieved and Bart doesn’t know what to do with that.  No one’s cared whether or not he gets hurt in a long time.

...

     It all comes crashing down at a party at the Outsider’s headquarters.  They’re eating pizza and messing around.  It’s all fun and games, until it isn’t.

     Jaime’s gone to get them more soda and Bart is scarfing down his fifteenth piece of pizza when someone grabs it out of his hands.  “Dude,” he says indignantly.

     Brion is holding his plate, “You need to slow down.  You are going to get a stomach ache my friend.”  

     Panic pools in Bart’s gut, “Give it back.”  It’s irrational, but even after all this time, Bart is still possessive over his food.

     Brion laughs, like this is funny.  Like taking Bart’s food is a joke.  “No, no, you have eaten enough.  I will be taking this.”

     “Hey, man, knock it off,” Vic says.  

     Brion laughs again, then hiccups.  He smells like beer.  “No, no more pizza for the kleiner schneller,” he says, and ruffles Bart’s hair.  His fingers are clumsy and they tug just enough to set Bart off.

     Panic shoots through his veins, turning his blood into ice water.  Surging to his feet, Bart grabs Brion’s wrist and judo-flips him faster than the prince can blink.  He’s breathing hard and his skin is crawling with phantom fingers.  The room has gone silent and everyone is staring at him like he’s lost his mind.

     “Brion!” Violet yelps, their aura flaring as she rushes to their boyfriend’s side.  She inspects him for injuries before turning their dark eyes onto Bart.  “Why did you do that,” she demands.

     Bart doesn’t answer them, still trembling with adrenaline.  He runs out of the room as tears prick at his eyes.  What the fuck is wrong with him?

     “Bart?” Jaime is back with the sodas, but Bart just pushes past him without a word.  “Bart, wait, what’s wrong?”  

     Bart stumbles through the hall and into the training room; he collapses onto the mat, crying.  Why can’t he just be normal for one goddamn night?  Why is he so fucked up?

     Jaime isn’t far behind him, rushing through the door with the sodas still in his hands.  “Bart!” Jaime calls out his name, voice laced with concern.  He stops in front of Bart, “Bart, hermano, what’s wrong?”

     Bart hiccups, trying to get his emotions under control, “It’s stupid.”

     “It’s not stupid if it’s making you this upset,” Jaime insists, sitting down next to him on the mat.

     “Brion took my pizza,” he wails.  It’s stupid because that’s not even what he’s upset about, not really.  It’s not what set him off, what turned him into this feral, snarling animal that lashes out at everyone around him.

     Jaime cocks his head.  “I don’t understand,” he says slowly, “I mean, that’s a dick move, but why are you so upset?”

     Bart takes a shallow, shaky breath and doesn’t look at Jaime.  “If I did something bad, would you hate me?” he asks.

     Jaime puts his hand on Bart’s shoulder.  “Hermano, I could never hate you,” he says, and his voice is so gentle that Bart’s chest aches.  Then Jaime tilts his head, “Hey, what’s going on with you?” he asks, concerned.  “Y’okay?”

     “I just,” he gulps, “He touched my hair and he took my pizza and suddenly it was like I was right back there all over again and I freaked out.”  He flaps his hands around agitatedly.  What he has with Jaime is so good and he doesn’t wanna fuck it up by saying too much.

     Jaime sucks in a breath, “Bart, what do you mean by ‘back there’?”  His voice is tinted blue with concern and his hand is still heavy on Bart’s shoulder.

     Bart doesn’t look at him.  His skin is crawling and everything is too bright and too loud and toomuchtoomuchtoomuch.  He scratches at his forearms violently, trying to get rid of the buzzing under his skin and in his ears.

     Jaime grabs his wrist, “Bart stop!  You’re hurting yourself!”

     Blind with panic, he snarls, “Don’t touch me!” and flinches violently away from Jaime.  Jaime blinks at him, eyes wide and shocked, and Bart feels like an asshole all over again.

     “Bart,” Jaime says carefully, like he’s soothing to a scared animal, “Please talk to me.”  His hands are raised in the universal gesture for “I come in peace”.

     “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

     Jaime shakes his head.  “No, don’t be, ese.  I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.  Lo siento, chiquito.”  Jaime is so good it makes Bart want to start crying all over again.

     “It’s just,” he starts but the words stick in his throat.  He tries again, “Y’know how in the future everything was super moded?”  Understatement of the century but it’s whatever.

     Jaime nods.

     Bart licks his lips and continues, “Well food was always really hard to find and some people would always have more than others.”  He bounces his leg, “And, um, I was always so hungry.  There was never enough to eat for normal people, so I was constantly starving.  Speedster metabolism and all that shit.”

     “I’m sorry,” Jaime says, sounding like he means it.

     Bart shakes his head, “Not your fault.”  Jaime looks like he’s gonna disagree, so Bart looks him dead in the eyes and says again, “Not your fault, Blue.”

     Jaime nods, “Okay,” mouth quirking.

     Bart inhales shakily, “And, um, so like I said there were people that always had more food than others.  And they would be willing to share, if you did them a favor.  And sometimes I would get so hungry and I just...did them a favor.”

     Jaime makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Bart, you mean...”

     Bart nods,  “Yeah, uh, exactly what it sounds like,” he says, refusing to look at Jaime, not wanting to see the disgust in his eyes.  His hands are shaking and his chest is tight, “So sorry!  You’re best friend’s a slut!”  He laughs, high and shaky, and starts crying again.

      “Dios mio, Bart, no,” Jaime sounds heartbroken, “Mierda, chiquito, I’m so sorry.”  

      Bart sniffles and asks, “You don’t hate me?”

      “Why would I hate you?” Jaime sounds genuinely confused and also a little bit like he’s crying.

      “Because I’m dirty and fucked up,” he says hoarsely, “I’m damaged goods.”

      “That’s bullshit,” Jaime snaps angrily.  Bart looks up at him in shock, eyes wide.  

      “You did what you had to to survive; the pendejos who decided it was okay to take advantage of a starving kid, they’re the ones who’re fucked up.  Not you,” Jaime says, voice steely with conviction.

      Bart blinks dumbly at him, shocked.  “You really don’t hate me,” he says wonderously.  He feels floaty and not all there, like when he’s running as fast as he can and his edges go all blurry.

      “I told you, I could never hate you,” Jaime insists fiercely, and Bart wonders how he could’ve ever been afraid of someone like Jaime.

      “Can I- can I have a hug?” he asks, and he hates how pitiful he sounds but he just wants someone to hold him and tell him everything’s gonna be alright.

      “Shit, of course,” Jaime says, and wraps his arms around Bart.  Bart buries his face in Jaime’s neck and it feels like coming home.

      They stay like that for a while, Bart clinging to Jaime like he’s drowning and Jaime’s the only thing keeping his head above water, which is truer than he’d like.  Eventually, Bart pulls away; his breathing is still shaky but he’s no longer crying.

      Bart exhales and smiles at Jaime.  “Y’know,” he says, “You were the first person I ever really trusted after I got here.”

      “Really?” Jaime asks, surprised.  “What about Barry?  Or Jay or Wally?”

     Bart chews his lip.  “No, see, cause I trusted them not to hurt me and stuff, but I didn’t trust them with my past.  I still don’t, to be honest.  You’re the only one who knows just how bad it actually was.”

     “Oh,” Jaime breathes.  “Wow, that’s...you’ve never talked about it?  At all?”

     He shakes his head.  “They know bits and pieces, but not the whole thing.  I didn’t want them to look at me like I’m just some tragic victim.  I mean, it was shitty, but I survived it.  It didn’t kill me, I’m still here.”

     Jaime nods, “I can understand that, I guess.  But Bart...I think you should talk to someone about it.  It doesn’t make you weak to ask for help, correcamino.”

     “I know that,” he snaps defensively.  “Sorry, sorry.  It’s just, I don’t wanna be pitied.”  He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. 

     “Black Canary’s a licensed therapist,” Jaime offers.  “It’s pretty much her job not to judge or pity people, ese.”

     Bart considers it.  “Maybe,” he says, “I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it with someone else.”  He shrugs, picking at his jeans.

     “Well, I’m here,” Jaime says, his gaze steady and his voice kind, “For whenever you need to talk.  Even...even about those favors.”

     Bart glances up at him, “You don’t wanna hear about that.  It’s gross.”  I’m gross, he doesn’t say.

     Jaime shrugs, “Doesn’t matter.  You ever need to talk about it, I’m here.  I’m not going to judge you or pity you or anything like that.  I’ll just be here for you, whenever you need me.”

      Bart stares at the training room floor.  After a moment, he speaks.  “I freaked out because Brion ruffled my hair.  He kinda tugged at it, and that...it felt like before.”  His throat closes up and he stops talking, glancing at Jaime out of the corner of his eyes.

      Jaime exhales sharply, “That sucks, hermano.”  He says it frankly and without condescension.  “That really, really sucks.”

      Bart squeezes his eyes shut, scrubbing at his face with the heels of his hands.  “Yeah, it does,” he says, voice cracking.  He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, so he switches topics.  “Did I ever show you the scars on my legs?” he asks.

      Jaime shakes his head, “No,” he says, voice cautious like he still thinks Bart might run away.

      Bart kicks off his shoes and rolls up his jeans, angling his left ankle towards Jaime.  “There, see it?” he says, pointing to the neat lines of raised skin running horizontal across his ankle and calf with surgical precision.  “I’ve got matching ones on my other leg.”

      Jaime looks both horrified and fascinated, like he’s looking at a car wreck.  “How?” he asks, “Why?”  He makes an aborted hand motion, like he wanted to touch the scars but thought better of it at the last minute.

      Bart catches his hand, “You can touch them, it’s okay.”  It’s okay, he tells himself, it’s just Jaime.

      “You sure?” Jaime asks.

      Bart nods.  He trusts Jaime; he trusts him with his past and he trusts him with his scars.  He trusts him so much it’s honestly kind of scary sometimes.

      Hesitantly, Jaime reaches out and runs a finger along one of the scars.  His touch is feather-light and impossibly gentle.  Bart shivers.  After a moment, Jaime pulls his hand back, looking thoughtful.

      “What happened,” he says, more of a statement than a question.

      Bart shifts, “I was the last speedster, and the Reach wanted to know how my powers worked; what the limits of my healing were.  The Reach scientists would do experiments on me,” he taps his fingers in a staccato rhythm on his thigh, “That’s how I knew my bone would fuse on that mission.  They tested it.”

      “Bart...” Jaime trails off, like he’s not sure what to say.  Bart supposes that’s fair.  How are you supposed to respond when your best friend tells you that he had his legs broken repeatedly for “science”?

      “The scars are from when they would cut my hamstring and my achilles tendon to see how fast I could heal and if I could still run while injured,” Bart recites clinically, “I can, by the way, I’m just a lot slower.”

      “Jesus,” Jaime breathes.  His voice cracks, “God, Bart, that’s horrible.”

      Bart shifts, uncomfortable with the emotional intensity, “Well, if you look on the bright side, it’s not like any of it was permanent,” he says, trying to lighten to mood.

      Jaime gives him a flat, unimpressed look, one that says you are so full of shit but I’m not gonna call you on it right now.

      “I’ve got other scars, too.”  Bart’s never talked about this before, and now that he’s started it feels like he can’t stop.  

      The words just keep spilling out, “On my neck.  They’re from the inhibitor collars, the ones in the future.  They had little blade thingies that would stab into the skin, tomakeithardertogetoutofthem,” he gulps in a breath, the words blurring together at the end.

      Jaime buries his face in his hands, muttering in rapid-fire spanish under his breath.  He’s speaking too fast for Bart, with his limited understanding of the language, to catch anything other that a few swear words but the guilt in his tone comes through clear as day

      Guilt pools in Bart’s stomach.  Of course Jaime, with his too-big heart, blames himself for this.

      Bart reaches out and puts a hand on Jaime’s shoulder, “It’s not your fault, Blue.  None of it is.”

      Jaime leans into his touch, “I’m still sorry,” he says.

      “Don’t be, Jaime.  I never blamed you, not for a second,” he says, and he means it.

      Jaime inhales and sits up, “I don’t know why I’m freaking out, this isn’t about me.”

      Bart wraps his arm around Jaime and rests his head on his shoulder, “It’s fine, dude.  I just told you a bunch of really heavy stuff, so I think you’re justified in getting worked up.  It’s nice to know that someone cares.”

      Jaime wraps his own arm around Bart and squeezes him tightly against his side, “Of course I care.  You’re my best friend and I hate that any of this happened to you,” he admits, voice thick with emotion.  “You didn’t deserve it, Bart, I hope you know that.”

      Bart doesn’t wanna start crying again.  He’s so tired of crying.  But Jaime’s words grip his heart like a fist and squeeze.  For the second time that day, Jaime holds him as he shakes apart, whispering comforting spanish into his hair.

      Bart gasps, trying to regulate his breathing, “I’m just sick of this shit.  I’m sick of feeling like I’m flying apart.”  He grips his hair and rocks in place, an aborted scream clotting in his throat.  

      Jaime pulls him into a fuller, bone-crushing hug, “Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” he says, “Nadie va a volverá a tocarte.  No se lo permitiré.  Te lo prometo, chiquito.”  He presses a firm kiss to Bart’s temple.

      Bart pulls back and stares at him, eyes wide.

      Jaime scrambles away from him, “Shit, shit, sorry!  I should’nt’ve- lo siento,” he babbles.

     Bart giggles, slightly hysterical, “It’s crash.”

     “No, I’m sorry!  I overstepped,” Jaime’s still babbling.  “Dios, soy un idiota.  ¡Por qué hiciste eso, maldito bobo!" he mutters to himself, smacking his forehead.

      “Jaime!” Bart snaps, grabbing his friend’s hand, “I said it’s crash!”  Jaime still looks conflicted, so Bart continues, “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just surprised me is all.  I promise.”

      “You sure?” Jaime asks, deadly serious.

      “I’m sure,” Bart insists.  Not letting go of Jaime’s hand, he flops backwards onto the mat.  “Ugh, my brain’s all cottony from crying,” he complains.  “I don’t wanna go back to the party, I fucking judo flipped Brion and now everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

      Jaime snorts, “No shit, did you really?”

      “Yeah, dude.”

      Jaime lays down next to him.  “Hey,” he says, “If you’re feeling up to it, we could go get milkshakes?  Would that help?”  He sounds tentative, unsure of himself.

      Bart turns his head towards Jaime, “Y’know what, that actually sounds really nice.”

      Jaime smiles and gets to his feet, “C’mon, hermano,” he says, offering Bart his hand.  Bart takes it, pulling himself to his feet, and doesn’t let go.

[foolishandfurious]

Every time I try to post something serious this happens.

Transcript because I forgot captions:

Jaime: Hey, guys. Um, I guess I just wanted to talk about something I’ve been really struggling with lately, which is, uh-

Nose Face: Everything’s fine! Ignore her. Heh heh heh!

[crushculture03]

Chapter 26

Warning smut & angst

Time skip about 2 months

The past two months have treated both jules and Matty pretty decently, the two had yet to talk to each other yet, which jules was content about, but Matty on the other hand was dying to contact her again.

Ever since he saw her storm out of the concert, he has been unable to get her out of his mind. But with the release of the new album and the idea of a new tour looming over his head, he tried to push her out of his mind and focus on what lay ahead for him and the band.

For Jules though, that night of the concert 2 months ago had changed her view on him slightly, how could he write a song saying he loved her and then go write another saying their love died on its own, when it was truly his fault that their love came to an end.

But unfortunately or maybe fortunately, their efforts to stay away from each other would soon end, when Jaime would invite both of them to a party dirty hit was hosting....

Jules nervously made her way up to the roof, where the party was being held, everything in her hoped that Matty wouldn't be in attendance tonight; with the new album out she expected him to most likely be busy. Unfortunately when she stepped off the elevator, her hopes were shattered when she spotted him at the bar. She quickly pulled her phone out and hurried to a more secluded part of the roof, praying he hadn't noticed her.

"Charli he's here I thought he would be busy, and since he's here that probably means she's here" jules texted her best friend, immediately charli texted back, "Shit I'm sorry jules, just try to ignore him, I'm here if you need anything" she reassured her friend. Jules sighed, not knowing if she should leave or stay.

"You ok there?" an all too familiar voice asked her, "Go away Matthew '' she mumbled, those were the first words they had spoken to each other in months.

Unfortunately for Jules, Matty decided to sit next to her instead of following her wishes. "What do you not get about me asking you to go away?" she huffed, finally looking over at him with anger and hurt prevalent in her stare. "I just wanted to check up on you, that's all," Matty said, putting his hands up in surrender.

Jules scoffed, "I'm fine thanks, where's your little pet? You should keep her on a leash you know instead of letting her harass me "Jules snapped. Matty sighed, "I'm sorry I don't know why she would post something like that" he responded back, "Whatever, she got what she wanted which was you so can't she just leave me alone" jules responded, quickly grabbing her purse and getting up to leave. "Where are you going?" Matty asked, quickly getting up from the bench as well and following her to the elevators, "Somewhere far away from you Matthew" she sighed.

She soon felt his hand grab her wrist and gently turn her around, "Jules, would you please just talk to me?" Matty pleaded, Jules looked at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes at any minute. Luckily they were still in a pretty secluded area of the roof and no one was there to disturb their conversation. 

"Why should I matty? Huh what the fuck could you possibly say to me right now? Are you sorry?" Jules said, ripping her wrist out of his grasp. "That you didn't mean to hurt my feelings, that you wanna be friends?" she said, tears now finding their way to her eyes and spilling slowly down her face as she moved closer to him.

"You broke my heart Matthew Healy, no, you shattered it and just as I had mended it, you come back and ruin it" she snapped, matty was taken aback at jule's sudden outburst. "What are you talking about ruining it again? I thought you were with pretty boy ross?" Matty commented. "We broke up," she quickly responded, trying her best to wipe away her tears as they fell. "Oh, i-i'm sorry" , Matty said.

"You know things between jade and I have been pretty rocky lately" he commented, looking down at his shoes, "She keeps asking me to sleep with her but I refuse everytime, guess it just doesn't feel right" he commented, looking back up at jules.  Julie scoffed "Aw can't get your dick hard for her can you? Well guess what, Healy , you broke up with me! So you don't get to imply you miss sleeping with me, when you're the one who ended it in the first pl-" but before she could finish her sentence she felt a pair of lips meet her own.

Going against her better judgment, Jules kissed him back, she missed the way his lips felt against hers, when they kissed she felt like she was home. But reality set back in and she quickly pushed him away "You have a girlfriend matty, we can't" jules whispered, that kiss had tore her walls down, and all of sudden the anger she felt towards him seemed like a distance memory, she knew it was wrong but she wanted him, no she needed him.

"I don't care Foreman" he whispered, before pulling her back in for a quick kiss, "let's get out of here" he said, as he guided her to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed behind the two, he pushed her up against the wall, immediately using his lips to attack her neck. Jules let out a soft moan as he found the sweet spot on her neck. He quickly pulled away as he felt the elevator stop in the lobby, once again he gently took her hand, and led her to the nearest taxi.

Once the two arrived at his house, he quickly unlocked the door and dragged Jules up the stairs and to his room. He gently pushed her down on the bed, admiring the way her blonde curls fell around her.

She quickly reached up and grabbed his tie, tugging him down to her level and connecting their lips, matty put both of his hands on the space around her head, in order to steady himself over her.

"You're so gorgeous Julie, '' he whispered in her ear, as one of his hands slowly creeped its way up her thigh, slowly making its way up to where she needed him most.

Matty's hand stopped as it came in contact with the cotton fabric of her underwear, the girl gasped as he slowly applied pressure to her clothed core. "Fuck i've missed this" he responded, and quickly dipped his head down to met her lips once again, "You're soaking wet just for me arent you love" he teased. "Always" she responded back, which made him smile.

"Matty" she breathed, "yes love" he hummed back, "please i need you" she replied back, and just that sentence had him putty in her hand.

He quickly pulled away and removed both his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers only, he quickly helped Jules out of her dress so she too was just in her undergarments. He admired the girl beneath him, god how he had missed this sight.

Matty quickly kicked off his boxers, eager to start the night's events. Just as his fingers hooked themselves on the side of her cotton underwear, Jules stopped him "Matty are you sure about this? What about her?" Jules asked, mentally kicking herself for bringing jade up.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life jules" he responded, and with that he quickly yanked her underwear off, discarding it somewhere in the room. He slowly entered her, trying his best to savor the moment, Jules let out a soft moan at the contact, ' god how i've missed this' she thought.

Once he was fully inside of her he stopped for a moment and looked down at her once again, "I love you Julie" he whispered, then leaned down and kissed her, as he did so his hips adopted a steady rocking motion.

"I love you too matty" she moaned back, the pleasure she was experiencing was a feeling she had missed. They knew what they were doing was wrong, matty was still in a relationship and jules should be mad at him for what he did, but none of that seemed to matter at the moment. All that mattered in that moment was the love and connection the two felt for each other.

After a few minutes, Jules felt the familiar feeling of euphoria rising in her stomach "matty" she whispered, as her hands dug their way into his soft curls, "I know baby" he responded back, feeling the same sensation she felt. Jules finished first, the wave of euphoria washing over her as she softly tugged on his curls, matty soon followed in his bliss, his hips slowing down while the two rode out their highs. He placed one last kiss on her lips before pulling out slowly and laying down next to her, the two sat in silence as they both tried to process what had just happened.

"Matty" she whispered, finally breaking the peace, he turned on his side to face her. "Yes darling" he smiled and gently pushed a loose hair from her face "I meant it when I said I love you" she replied, searching his face for any sign of regret, "I meant it too" he replied, and pulled her into his arms.  And for the rest of the night the two peacefully slept in eachothers arms, not worrying about the repercussions that the night would cause, the only thing they cared about was being held by the person they loved.

A/N : Ahhhh i hoped you all liked it! i've been planning this chapter for so long and love how it turned out! also i definitely don't condone cheating but jade is lowkey kinda a bitch and jules and matty are meant to be tbh! anyways hope y'all enjoyed!

[carlosfruitsnacks]

"R U Mine?"

summary:

— Carlos takes you for the first time to his gig with his band, he sings a song that made you feel emotions that you've only noticed now.

genre:

— songfic & modern au

notes:

— female reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong though I will refrain from using too much Spanish.

warning/s:

— mild make-out session

a/n:

— the song is "R U Mine" by Arctic Monkeys, an absolute banger.

The first encounter between you and Carlos happened one summer, you were licking ice cream in the hot weather when you heard a muffled sound of instruments playing next door. Curious, you went to check what was the noise about. You see a bunch of guys in the garage performing their instruments, they looked like they were in a band. You watched when one of the guitarists groaned and signaled for the rest to stop playing. He goes to face his bandmates. He had curly brown hair and a maroon shirt with black jeans, he was sweating all over and the stern look on his face almost made you drop your ice cream.

"One more time! We need to get this right! Camilo stop slacking on the guitar!"

"I'm not!"

"I barely heard your chords!"

"I was playing!"

You see the guy arguing with another who looked exactly like him except he was wearing a much brighter attire and had a smaller stature. Before the two could break into a fight, another guy clicks his tongue and separates the two.

"Ay, cálmense chicos. Let's get this practice over with!"

The male encourages. Eventually, all of them returned to their places and began performing their instruments again. You watched in awe as the band played mesmerizing music, what astonished you the most was their lead guitarist who was also their vocalist. He barely sang in one of their songs but his voice made an impression on you, it was low, almost rough, but it was melodious. It made your knees weak. After minutes of watching them perform in the garage, they successfully finished their performance. You couldn't help but reveal yourself from the shadows and offer them applause.

"Wow, that was amazing!"

You complimented them. All of them shared a look of shock and bewilderment, for a long time they've played in the same garage it was only now did they've gained someone's interest. They were proud, to say the least. The lead guitarist scoffs at you, denying the fact that he is flattered that you liked their performance.

"I'm glad you liked it! I'm Camilo by the way, the rhythm guitarist"

The guitarist, Camilo, enthusiastically walks over to you and offered a friendly handshake. He gently takes you to the rest of the band members.

"This is Jaime, our bassist"

"¡Hola!"

Jaime gives you a warm smile and waves as you reciprocate, Camilo gestures to a tall guy behind the drum set.

"Now that's Matéo, our fantastic drummer"

"'Sup"

Matéo gives you a chill expression. Lastly, Camilo points at their vocalist, the singer was avoiding your gaze, almost like ignoring your existence.

"And finally, our lead guitarist who's also the vocalist, and is, unfortunately, my twin brother, Carlos"

You breathlessly look at Carlos, everything about him screamed bewitching. He was the coolest guy you've ever seen, it was hard to set your eyes away from him. Carlos simply scoffs and offers you his rolling eyes. You ignore his attempt to push you away.

"So, are you guys like a band?"

"It's none of your business"

Carlos rebutted at you and placed his instrument away, Camilo and Jaime cleared their throats at him, he only glared at them. Luckily, you weren't offended by what he said so you smiled.

"Okay. Have you guys played in shows before?"

"Can you go away? You annoy the hell out of me"

You pouted and crossed your arms at the guitarist, you didn't understand why he was acting so brash towards you. Nevertheless, you giggled at him.

"Fine, but do expect me to come again next time you guys play. I like seeing you perform, Carlos"

The way his name rolled off your tongue, made his spine tingle delightfully. He knew you meant nothing to what you said but it made his heartbeat go faster than anticipated. Carlos faces away, he bites his lip and prayed that the blush on his face would go away. Soon, you take your leave. The bandmates shared a look and landed their eyes on Carlos, who decided to retreat before being bombarded with questions.

You weren't lying when you said you'll come again to watch them play again. There's part in Carlos that wished you stopped looking his way. You come to see them play in the garage next door for the past few days up until a month. It was safe to say you were their number one fan. As time progressed, your smiles get stuck in his head every night. Carlos found himself secretly glad you went to see them play that day.

The bandmates, especially Camilo, would try to set you both up. Eventually, it worked. Carlos learns a few things about you and with time, he opens up to you. He'll tell you about his band and the several shows and contests they went through. You can see he was passionate about being a singer and playing the guitar, it was admirable. The two of you grew closer and closer until you and he was inseparable. Carlos would invite you to hang out with him and you'll let him come over to your house and he'll sometimes teach you how to play the guitar.

It's all fun and games until Carlos slips and falls in love with you. How could he not? You liked hanging out with him and seeing him play with his band. You were kindhearted and understanding of his passions and it's making it harder for him to not let these feelings grow stronger. The day Carlos realized his feelings for you, Camilo joked that he should offer you a sappy serenade. And little did his twin know that he took it seriously.

It was late in the afternoon when you hear loud knocks on your front door, you answer to see it was Carlos. You smile and asked him what was up, he hastily shows you a small poster.

"We're playing tonight at seven, I want you to be there"

"Me?"

You gasped, Carlos nodded and handed the poster. You look and see the name of their band plastered in bold letters, it wasn't their first gig but rather the first gig you're invited to. Dios, you were excited! So, you squealed and unconsciously gave Carlos a hug.

"Of course, I'll be there! I can't wait to see you guys play in front of a big audience!"

You gushed. There goes Carlos' heart skipping beats again at the sight of you, he was just as happy that you agreed to go to one of their gigs, it would mean the world to him because he's been planning something for you.

Later that evening, you got dressed as you arrived at the venue where Carlos' band would be performing. There was a fairly large crowd but you managed to make your way near the stage. You can see the instruments already set up. As soon as the lights went low, the crowd began cheering as you see the band walking up on the stage. You clapped and let out a loud shout.

The band began performing and you were having the time of your life. They were absolutely killing it! You screamed and sang along to their songs. During the show, Carlos constantly kept his gaze on you. It was bizarre that despite the large crowd he can still spot you. The adrenaline was constantly pumping through him as he finished one song to another. Until it was time to wrap up the show with a final song. Carlos, sweaty and fingers hurting, manages to smirk at the crowd.

"Alright, before we end the night, we would like to play one last song"

The crowd cheers. Carlos signals his bandmates to get ready. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. He's about to confess his love for you in front of many people with a song. Call him cliché but he can't stand bottling all these emotions anymore.

"This one's for a special girl out there named [Name]"

He quickly says and this makes catches your attention. You tilt your head at the mention of your name. But before you can process it, the band resumes playing as Carlos brings his lips close to the mic.

"I'm a puppet on a string. Tracy Island, time-travelin' diamond cutter-shaped heartaches"

"Come to find you four in some velvet mornin' years too late"

"She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space"

"In my mind, when she's not right there beside me"

Carlos begins and his singing brings an electrifying sensation all over your body. You watched in awe as he plays his guitar with emotion.

"I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be"

"And satisfaction feels like a distant memory"

"And I can't help myself"

"All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

Midst the crowd, you finally meet Carlos' eyes, and immediately his gaze steals the air inside your lungs.

"Well, are you mine?"

"Are you mine?"

"Are you mine? Oh, ah"

The entire time he sang those words, Carlos constantly keeps his gaze on you, nearly convincing you that he was asking you those questions. The moment felt so surreal.

"I guess what I'm tryin' to say is I need the deep end"

"Keep imaginin' meetin', wished away entire lifetimes"

"Unfair we're not somewhere misbehavin' for days"

"Great escape, lost track of time and space"

"She's a silver linin', climbin' on my desire"

Carlos decided to wink at you at the last line and this brings a furious flush to your face. You're filled with various emotions that were only present now, what was going on and why is your heart beating so quickly?

"And I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be"

"And satisfaction feels like a distant memory"

"And I can't help myself"

"All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

The guitarist can feel his heart prepared to leap out of his chest as he continued to watch your dazed expression. Carlos can see your eyes glittering amongst the crowd as it pulls him deeper and he struggles to not let his knees give up on him.

"Well, are you mine?"

"Are you mine?"

"Are you mine?"

He sings the chorus, his eyes set on you. This was no coincidence or accident, you believed that he was asking you those questions. Your toes curled inside of your shoes, your heart was hammering against your ribcage, and you can feel your body go fuzzy. 

"And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways"

"So in case I'm mistaken, I"

"Just wanna hear you say, "You got me, baby"

"Are you mine?"

Carlos sucks in a breath at the bridge and performs a guitar solo followed by his twin brother. Camilo has been aware of everything, so he sends him a teasing but encouraging smile. Jaime and Matéo have been consistent in keeping up with Carlos' pace in the song, the two were definitely aware of his plan by now. After the guitar solo, the music halts as Carlos quickly brings his mouth close to the microphone, searching for your eyes again.

"She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space"

"In my mind, when she's not right there beside me"

All of a sudden, the music kicks in and the crowd goes wild. It finally clicks in you, why these emotions are bombarding you. They were always there whenever you're with Carlos, you're just too good at denying it. Only now, with a confession through a song, did you realize that Carlos shared the same emotions you felt for him. This causes your brain to go haywire.

"I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be"

"And satisfaction feels like a distant memory"

"And I can't help myself"

"All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

Carlos sings each line with raw emotion. He didn't care if the crowd can notice his blatant staring at you or that he was professing his love for you through a song. With every strum of his guitar, Carlos hoped that you felt the same.

"Well, are you mine?"

"Are you mine?"

"Are you mine?"

As the band finishes the song and the entire crowd began cheering, you have made up your mind. Carlos pants and says his thanks to the audience for coming to their gig. He hastily exits the stage and puts away his guitar with adrenaline still fresh in his veins, he begins to pace backstage, processing the whole performance he dedicated to you. Unbeknownst to Carlos, when people started leaving, you were marching your way backstage.

A knock on the door interrupts Carlos from his screaming thoughts, he wipes the sweat off his forehead and fixed his hair. The second he goes to answer the door, you promptly threw yourself into him as you grabbed the sides of his face and then pressed your lips hard against his.

Carlos merely chokes on air but the shock subsides, his hands made their way around your waist as he begins to kiss you back. You pushed your body closer to him until there was no space between you and him, your hands remain on the sides of his face as you kissed him harder, telling him that you do feel the same. Carlos moans through the kiss, getting the message with eyes fluttered shut, imprinting every second of this moment inside his brain.

Things would've escalated in a very heated direction if it weren't for the collective sounds of whistles. The two of you swiftly pulled away and looked at the rest of Carlos' bandmembers laughing, Camilo was grinning from ear to ear and telling a satire dirty joke. You and Carlos' faces turned red.

"¡Vete a la mierda cabrones!"

The guitarist cussed and threw a middle finger at his bandmates before shutting the door loudly at their faces. He gently faces you with an awkward expression, you smiled and gave him a loving embrace.

"Do you really have to confess through a song in front of many people?"

"What? Don't act like you didn't like every bit of it"

"I did, I loved it very much. I believe you asked me a question, amor"

Your voice makes Carlos shudder as you playfully traced your finger on his jawline. It took all that he had to not attack you with a kiss. He chuckles.

"Well, are you mine [Name]?"

"Oh, I'm all yours, Carlos"

taglist: @nothearts4yu @vanevafu @irisia-ckzkb1109 @elegantkidfansoul @candykamikun

masterlist

[the-atlas-sister]

Protector (Batsis Reader)

(This is from a chapter of my original story but I quirked the character to be the reader. The reader can teleport and turn invisible and your hero name is Viper. You're also part of the Teen Titan's and Connor Kent is your love interest, although it's not too evident in this chapter. Alexandra and Alex are original characters in the Titans based on my two friends. If you like this chapter and you want me to publish the book, let me know. I would make the original character the reader)

Y/N's POV

"I'm going on a walk!" I announced, opening the Wayne manor door.

"Alone?" Alfred asked, walking towards me.

"Yeah," I shrugged.

"You may want to have one of your brothers accompany you," Alfred said. "Or Ace. You are the daughter of the infamous Bruce Wayne. And you're injured."

"I'm also the Teen Titan Viper," I chuckled. "I can take care of myself, Alfred. But thank you."

"Do be careful," Alfred said as I walked out of the large mansion.

I looked around as soon as I was outside before teleporting into the city. I teleported to an alleyway next to Gotham City Park. I swiped a strand of hair from my face before walking into the park. I smiled at the kids laughing and playing on the playground, remembering when Dick would bring my brother and I there when our parents and Bruce were working.

That's when I heard the scream. I spun my head to see two men with penguin masks grab a kid and pull him into an alley, his parents and all other adults apparently oblivious to the kidnapping.

"Hey!" I yelled, running toward the child and his kidnappers. I stopped at the alley, noticing that the child and the men were gone. I furrowed my brows, walking further into the alley. "Hello!"

"Help!" the child's voice echoed through the alley. I continued walking, ignoring the fact that the echo was unnatural, due to the fact there was no building covering the alley or stopping the sun from shining down. "Help!" I noticed that I had found the end of the alleyway. "Help!" I looked down to see a doll, the size of a small child, it's mouth open.

"Oh no-"

"You Y/L/N," a voice said from behind me. "So quick to save the day." Before I could turn around, I felt a slight prick in my neck. I turned around to see the familiar plump and long-nosed figure of Oswald Cobblepot or the Penguin, as well as the men from before standing next to him.

"Cobblepot," I mumbled, feeling drowsy.

"Careful there," Penguin said as I stumbled towards him. "Maybe you should just... relax."

I reached back and pulled out the thing that had pricked me. It was a small tranquilizer dart. I threw it to the ground as I fell to my knees. Dad, I thought before everything went dark.

***

"Wake up!"

I groaned, fluttering my eyes open. I tried to move my hands, only to feel a coarse rope around them. My eyes shot open at that realization. I sat upright, trying to move my legs, only to find them each tied to the leg of the chair I was sitting in. I looked around, to find myself in what looked like an abandoned penguin exhibit. I sat on a makeshift iceberg above freezing water, I let out a breath, noticing it come out in a puff of mist.

"Good, you're awake." I looked up to see the Penguin, in his top hat, monocle, and usual penguin tux. He held a raw fish, biting off it's head. He leaned casually on his lethal umbrella, a blade sticking out from the bottom.

I stayed stoic. First thing Bruce taught me in a kidnapping. "Why am I here Cobblepot?" I asked.

"Just a playing card," Penguin shrugged, some of the fish spitting from his mouth.

"So you want my father's money?" I scoffed. "Spend all of your family's fortune on that disgusting fish or buying this run-down zoo?"

"We both know Bruce Wayne isn't your father," Penguin said. "Your father blew up." He pointed the fish at me some of it's gut splattering on my face. "But yes."

"Why do you need Bruce Wayne's money?" I asked, pressing the Titan's distress button on my bracelet.

"Why do any of really need money?" Penguin sighed. "I need to rebuild the Iceberg Lounge."

"You really think people would go to a club owned by a former villain and current psychopath?" I scoffed. "Built off of stolen money?" Penguin growled and slapped me across the face with the half fish, splattering more guts and blood across my face. I spit out the few that got in my mouth.

"Some people don't matter who owns the club as long as they can spend their money on booze and beautiful women," he said, swallowing the rest of his fish. "Now let's notify Bruce that we have his dear little girl here, shall we?"

Penguin pulled out a phone and typed in Bruce's number and turned on the speaker. I tensed as the ringing began.

"Hello?" Bruce's voice rang through.

"Oh hello Bruce," Penguin said into the phone.

"Cobblepot," Bruce said. "What-"

"I just wanted to let you know that I have your dear daughter here with me," Penguin said. "Here Y/N, say hello." He held the speaker towards me, but I stayed silent. I felt one of his henchmen, grab my hair and yank, making me let out an involuntary yelp. He used his free hand to press a gun under my chin.

"Cobblepot, don't hurt her," Bruce said.

"Bruce, I'll be fine don't'-" I let out a strangled scream as Penguin stabbed my bicep with his umbrella.

"Y/N-"

"Now Bruce, she'll survive, as long as you get 4 million dollars to the Gotham Zoo, by noon," Penguin said, his blade still in my arm. I glanced at the clock on the phone, seeing that was ten minutes to noon. "If not then..." He twisted the blade, making me bite my lip to keep in a scream, but a small whimper arose. He then hung up.

"You won't kill me," I said through pained whimpers.

"I won't." Penguin agreed, pulling the blade out of my arm hard, making me yell again. I felt thick, warm blood drip down my arm quickly, and heavily. "But he might." The gun was pressed harder against my chin.

I swear Alexandra if you don't hurry-

My thoughts were cut off by Penguin being thrown off the makeshift iceberg. I held back a smile upon seeing Alex fully costumed, standing in front of me. She grinned at me.

I heard a loud crash and felt the sun shine on my back before left my chin. I watched as the man was thrown into the cement wall.

"Are you okay?" I heard Alexandra ask from behind me.

"I've been through worse," I said. I turned to see Jaime shoot another henchman into the wall with his scarab's laser.

"Superboy, get Y/N free," Raven said, flying above me. She created a magic cage around Penguin.

I felt something hot between my wrists before feeling the ropes snap. "You sure, you're okay?" Connor asked, flying in front of me.

"Totally," I shrugged, placing a hand on my bicep to stop the blood. Connor looked unsure but quickly laser-eyed the ropes around my ankles. I stood up and turned around to see Alexandra toss another henchman into a pile she had created and Alex ran around them, tying them up quickly.

"How'd you super twits get here?" Penguin asked.

"Shut up," Alex said, making faces at him.

"We're just here to help any citizen in danger," Alexandra said, placing a hand on Alex's shoulder.

"Raven, get him to GPD," Jaime said. Raven nodded before flying out of the hole they had created coming in, the caged Penguin behind her. "And Superboy-"

That was when Bruce appeared. He dropped dramatically in front of me, Dick and Damian following close behind. All fully suited up.

"Guess they beat us to it," Nightwing said, grinning at the Titans. "Nice job team."

Robin rushed to me, pulling my hand from my arm. He glared at me as he noticed the gushing blood. He pulled out a bandage roll and wrapped my arm. I winced at the roughness of his wrapping skills. "This is why you don't go on walks alone," he said, flicking my forehead.

"Thanks for the love," I said, rubbing my forehead.

"Robin's right," Bruce said, narrowing his eyes at me. "You could've gotten killed and worse, you could've gotten out of this by using your powers."

"I couldn't have given myself away," I said. "They could have connected me to Viper, then to you and to Robin and Nightwing!"

"Your safety is more important than our identities," Bruce said sternly. "I don't want you to leave the manor this week."

"Are you grounding me?" I scoffed. "Over something that wasn't my fault?"

"Busted," Alex mumbled.

"Bats, that's not fair," Connor said, walking forward. Bruce sent him a classic Bat glare, a mix of intimidation and Dad guilt. Connor stopped. "Or you know, whatever. Your kid."

"You can't-"

"I am your father, Y/N Wayne," Bruce said. "We're going back to the manor and I forbid you from leaving."

First part 2 on my masterlist: https://mooskey.tumblr.com/post/661991989629304832/%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B7%F0%9D%99%B4-%F0%9D%9A%84%F0%9D%99%BB%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B8%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%99%B0%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B4-%F0%9D%99%B2%F0%9D%99%BE%F0%9D%9A%82%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%99%B8%F0%9D%99%B2-%F0%9D%99%BF%F0%9D%99%BE%F0%9D%9A%86%F0%9D%99%B4%F0%9D%9A%81-%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%9A%A2-%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%9C%F0%9D%9A%9D%F0%9D%9A%8E%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%95%F0%9D%9A%92%F0%9D%9A%9C%F0%9D%9A%9D