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afreakingdork · 2 months ago

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You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 16

RotTMNT x Reader

@2aceofspades had such incredible vision for this week's chapter art! I'm so glad to have been party!

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis: You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

Six months.

This had gone on for half a year.

Donnie held his phone up as a pretense. There were things he could look at. He even had feeds he wanted to scroll through, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. In the last 179 days, this was the closest he had been to you. From where he was currently laid out on the couch, he had an arm craned behind his head so he could optimally hear your laughter bubble up below him.

He missed that.

He missed everything.

Waiting was necessary.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Time came with perspective and that had been at the forefront.

Mikey needed time.

As a dutiful brother, Donnie showed up like the rest of them. There had been stages. Mikey had gone through multiple routes of expression that bordered on mania to deal with his heartbreak. Donnie, being the most prone to such flights, accepted the phases best. If Mikey said he had to keep painting until he fully captured the illusive sensation in his chest then who was he to tell him to stop to eat?

The others weren’t as understanding, but they had Mikey’s wellbeing in mind.

The care was good natured in that sense, but that hadn’t meant Mikey didn’t occasionally snap. The youngest amongst them also happened to be the most powerful, both in a physical, mystical, and emotional sense, so, in the end, he got his way. If any one of them pressed too hard for Mikey to deviate from how he wanted to process his grief, then they risked life and limb. In all, it had taken three months for Mikey to work out all he needed. It had concluded by the youngest walking into the living room one day and announcing that he was ready for a new hobby. It was Mikey’s way of saying he had exhausted himself on what had come before and was ready to return to his sense of normality in his constant pursuit against boredom.

Donnie had kept his mouth shut as he wondered if that meant you would join him.

He buried the thought immediately.

He was supposed to be happy that the youngest had recovered.

He meant to congratulate Mikey with the rest of them even if Mikey didn’t understand what ranks he was joining or what he was being honored for.

Mikey lived.

Mike came out the other side of heartbreak.

Donnie felt like the one full of shrapnel.

From art to reading to eating to talking, Mikey had done what was necessary to move on.

Where did Donnie start?

He had no basis.

When he examined his connection to you, he found the first flames of attraction at best. You two had only had a few paltry conversations about interests. The only notable facet was that once the two of you started talking, the rest of the world seemingly disappeared. You would enter a vacuum sealed bubble and he liked how he had all your attention. It reminded him of the contact high he got when in the throes of a project. It was a chase he pursued when it came to construction. It percolated in certain video games. It even appeared amongst science texts that explained or laid the foundation for that which others found just as mysterious.

What did he know about you?

He knew he liked you.

He knew little else.

You had a crane game plushie, but did you collect stuffed animals?

You had movie facts, but did you enjoy watching films?

You had eaten a litany of snacks, but there seemed no commonality for a favorite.

How was he supposed to move on when he knew so little?

How was he supposed to start when everything had ended before it began?

This was his usual tipping point. He only needed the faintest interest in something to kick off a journey to becoming an expert. That first ember was a flame to be fanned and he was always in need of fire. He couldn’t even say he was flighty. When he committed to something, it was with his entire being. He found science at the age of seven and never looked back. Sure, he had projects that he had shelved, but that was because they themselves had run out their use, not their larger purpose.

You were a supernova.

A stunning and luminous explosion.

No, that was intrigue talking.

He was fantasizing without coming up with a scenario to run through.

What he had done was research. Love came in stages and he didn’t need articles to tell him that. He could break down the chemicals released in regards to fondness and spell them forwards and backwards. He knew all the internal mechanics. Those who believed absence made the heart grow fonder were too tied up in theatrics to see the point.

Being apart was about work.

You either appreciated what you missed about the person or you put in the additional effort necessary to maintain a relationship of distance. It was hard enough to navigate sharing yourself with another when they were right there. When you were separated, all of that was doubled with doubt and unknowns. Honesty was the key and communication was a house of worship. He detested the latter, but knew its barb all too well.

Yet again, none of this related to you.

He had no parts of you to miss because who he had come to know was an acquaintance at best. He had nothing to maintain because you’d never gotten to a point where that was necessary. You’d left him in the kitchen that night with an agreement to see each other again. It wasn’t even a promise. He didn’t even have your contact info. He had resorted to stealing your number from Mikey and putting it in his phone, but he couldn’t actually message you.

That would reveal too much.

He had his duty as a brother.

It didn’t matter that Mikey had actually given him the number without prompting.

It didn’t matter that the younger had asked him once or twice if he knew how you were.

Four times to be precise and it wasn’t because he date stamped any mention of your name in his recordings.

That would be absurd.

Borderline creepy.

He just had so little to go off of.

He needed knowledge.

Mikey needed time to process.

Donnie should have moved on from the crush.

After that three month marker had been announced, Donnie watched the youngest avoid his phone. Not in a sense that he stopped using it, but instead he was painfully aware of its existence. Every time Mikey got a message ping or his phone gave the slightest vibration, he would startle as if he had never seen such technology before. He would then immediately go taut in a way that said all he was fighting feral instinct to check the notification. The odd dichotomy escalated until Mikey bought an alarm clock if only to avoid setting similar ones on his phone. Donnie made it exactly one week before he had enough and took the device away from the youngest. He then threw it back in Mikey’s face and told him to call you.

In a bout of yelling, their father had been forced to step in as he had quite a bit in the passing months.

Donnie needed to make a reminder to bulk up his usual father’s day gifts this year. Splinter had been doing his best to be present. On his own accord, he had fumbled his way through online research and spoke of how the type of love didn’t matter. What was important was happiness and with that he asked if you made Mikey happy. Mikey had hugged their dad long past the point where he should have let go. Their father had held out with minor complaints that were mostly for show.

Donnie was left standing on the other side of the room.

He was the only brother to bear witness.

He instigated the event.

Why?

Did you make Donnie happy?

He hadn’t seen you in months.

By all accounts, you caused him far more misery than joy if he were to weigh the scales.

He hated the state of his acquaintanceship with you.

He wanted more.

He sulked.

Donnie sulked as you and Mikey started talking once again.

He sulked as you agreed to meet Mikey for coffee.

He sulked as you tested the waters of your new friendship.

He sulked as you realized things were still okay.

He sulked as you both remembered how you liked to hang out and went back to doing it regularly.

He hadn’t seen you, but he saw Mikey leave.

He avoided the youngest whenever he returned.

Mikey could take his time dipping his toe into the body of water that Donnie so greedily wished to dive in.

Donnie wasn’t proud of the thought.

He may have prematurely torn up some schematics because of them.

Mikey could be so altruistic.

Donnie had none of those markers.

Donnie was selfish.

Donnie was possessive.

Donnie was.

He was alone.

He was by himself in heartache and longing and there was nothing he could do about it.

Even work lost its luster. He moved like a hollow shell just to keep busy. Nothing quieted his mind, so he didn’t bother. He moved his hands for the sake of it and creations came at an incredible pace. He got praise for his speed and utility. He wasn’t over embellishing as he usually did. The machines were simple and to the point. The others made remark after positive remark, but Donnie saw the edge. They noticed immediately how he hadn’t lavished in the praise. They put two and two together in relation to what had been made.

They worried.

They knew.

Bickering had revealed his feelings, but there had enough talk.

Long nights with Leo had Donnie coming the closest he ever had to admitting they were twins. Sessions with Raph where little was said until a lot was unloaded. Joining April in reconnaissance even after he blew her cover because he couldn’t stop his mouth from rounding on his misery. Even Mikey, an unintentional catalyst for his current dilemma, had trapped him under the talk of food science and there had been light mentions of what could be done.

They all had one common response: if his feelings persisted then there was a reason.

If there was a reason then it needed to be explored.

Donnie knew that much. That was the basis for all science. The only problem was that he couldn’t and that came with its own cascade. One brother agreed he should stay away, one brother fell neutral, his sister said it was okay as long as he was honest, and the last brother told him to go for it. Paralyzed by the split decision, Donnie had opted to do nothing.

He suffered for it, but at least he owned it.

Until he saw you again.

The first time had been innocuous.

It was around the four month mark and you had come down the lair to drop off some leftovers in their fridge. There had been mention of a secondary location and you hadn’t wanted to let the food go bad. The lair had been close so you both popped in for only a moment. Donnie had been across the room, discussing something with Leo when you walked by. You hadn’t seen him. Mikey yammered on by your side, taking your attention, but Donnie had stopped to look.

He only realized how long when Leo pressed him with an annoying whistle. Donnie really needed to enact vengeance on the bird call situation. Leo had always done it to personally piss him off. Leo’s flimsy excuse of having learned them for signaling was an enormous load of crap. Donnie was translating exactly this when you passed through on the way out and made eye contact.

He watched it in slow motion.

The dip of your lashes.

The small smile that appeared on your face.

The way your lids translated how you felt about him.

How you still felt about him.

The way Mikey screamed that he’d be back later and tugged you away.

Leo hadn’t even made fun of him the second time. He’d pulled a ‘that’s rough’ and Donnie yanked Leo’s mask down to choke him. Leo had lived because Donnie hadn’t had the time to set up proper manslaughter. Donnie survived on scraps alone.

For two months, he lived on fleeting glances as you passed him by. Both of you were somehow always busy and you were never in the same room long enough to spare more than a few words. Eventually, it was six months from the heartbreak date and Donnie wandered in on you and Mikey hanging out in the living room like it was nothing.

He received no notice, but he hadn’t expected any. In fact, he hadn’t meant to leave his lab as he was deep in the construction of a shuttle, but he had gotten notice that a necessary part was just delivered. Goggles down and only oil free because he’d shucked his coveralls, there you were, sharing the same bean bag with Mikey as if it were a pillow. You were amongst a lively conversation about a mobile game that Donnie vaguely remembered Mikey had been going on and on about.

Donnie walked toward you before he could stop himself.

“Heyo!” Mikey chirped, hammering his thumbs into his device. “Y/N! Look! It’s Donnie!”

“Uh!” You squeaked out, similarly banging your screen. “J-just a sec!”

“Almost got him…” Mikey’s tongue flipped side to side.

“Ah!” You sunk back with relief and some fanfare played from both phones.

“Heck yeah!” Mikey held up a hand.

You high fived it.

Donnie had a wrench.

He wasn’t supposed to be here and he had a wrench in hand.

“Hi.” You didn’t seem to notice his folly as you looked up at him with an eager shine.

Nothing about the rocket was that pressing. “Mikey snared you as well it seems.”

You gave a sheepish smile. “You mean Leo?”

“Ugh!” Mikey grunted and moved something on his screen. “He’s playing in the worst way! He’s not even playing! He paid for a bunch of buffs so he could rush the first region and skipped all the dialog! No story!”

“Y-you have like twenty… seven…? levels on me…” You murmured.

“So?” Mikey squinted at a menu. “You’re playing. You’re trying. You called me to talk about the story last night. Then, you listened to me go on about pulling best boy in my first ten!”

“You were about to have me pull.” You giggled.

“See! That’s different! You care!” Mikey punctuated the last word with a nod.

“Do you play, Donnie?” You sent your gaze over.

You folded him into the conversation.

You cared.

Maybe he would.

Maybe he would download the game right now.

Maybe he would hack it and make himself the same level as you.

Maybe he would make himself a higher one than Mikey so you’d come to him to play with instead.

“No.” Was what came out of his mouth.

“He gets too upset about the free-to-play thing because he had a bad experience once.” Mikey finally pulled his eyes from the screen and sent Donnie a lethal gaze.

“I almost leveled the city and destroyed you all in the process!” Donnie brought up his hands to complain.

Mikey shrugged. “Whatcya doing out here? Weren’t you building a rocket?”

“You bring up a complaint only to drop it!” Donnie hissed.

“Level the…?” You looked between them in horror. “Rocket…?”

“Those events are unrelated!” Donnie rushed.

“Yeah, he’s making a rocket. Didn’t I mention that?” Mikey tilted his head and returned to tapping on his phone.

“N-no…” You gaped.

“Mikey…” Donnie grouched.

“Huh? What? You still here?” Mikey couldn’t keep a creeping smile off his face. “Y/N, wanna keep going?”

“Um…! Well…!” You sat a little straighter with what Donnie read as a plea in your eyes.

Did you need a break?

Were you having trouble telling Mikey?

You should be able to do as much.

What was the point of your friendship otherwise?

Donnie was left again, unsure, and in stasis.

“I… guess… that’s fine…” Your eyes dropped, sad, to the floor.

A guilt cropped up that Donnie offset.

He couldn’t help you with something so simple.

Rocket.

He could keep working on his rocket.

Donnie moved to leave and saw you perk up in his periphery before you wilted again.

He wouldn’t be some easy out.

“Or did you wanna take a break?” Mikey wondered in a loud way that Donnie knew was for him.

“I was grabbing a package.” Donnie spoke both remembering why he’d come out here and to answer.

“Too bad.” Mikey hummed.

You sank down into the bean bag.

“Why…?” Donnie rounded close to the couch that was beside the two of you.

“You could use a break. I’m not sure, but it’s been what… 9 hours? I can tell from how shrimpy you are.” Mikey fiddled with his phone.

You rose up enough to study Donnie.

He avoided your gaze and bore holes into Mikey as he tried to figure out what his goal was. “My back is fine and it’s been 7 hours and 42 minutes.”

“Back making fried rice.” Mikey snickered.

“Yes, because now I obviously want to rest where I am ridiculed.” Donnie touched one hand to the couch’s arm and threw the other up in gesture. “Sarcasm!”

You were still watching.

“Back curved like a wok.” Mikey’s smile split his face.

Donnie rolled his eyes to leave.

“Y-you could-!” You spoke up.

Mikey stayed quiet save the tacking on his phone.

“Yes?” Donnie watched you openly struggle.

“L-laying down… for your b-back… I mean… It might… help?” You pleaded with him. “The sofa is… um...”

He would not be your scapegoat. “My back is fine.”

“Oh…” You sank beneath your third pitfall of the night.

His stomach was gutted.

He couldn’t take anymore of your guilt.

“I’ve got to get that package. Excuse me.” Donnie left.

Just as he exited he heard a soft curse from you followed by soothing words from Mikey.

It wasn’t for him, Donnie reminded himself.

Maneuvering to the chute that he had installed so dropped packages would be safely stored below ground, Donnie opened the hatch and pulled out an envelope. Holding it and the weight of the part inside, he sighed as he made the return trip. He would have to pass the damn sitting room again on the way and slowed to make the mental preparations.

If he didn’t look at you then he wouldn’t get hung up.

Deciding that was the best strategy, Donnie moved forward with purpose and his head high.

Your voice drifted across the brick.

“L-look at this one…”

“Oh, that’s cute. I have another from that artist! Let me-!”

Donnie just needed to walk by.

Unseen, undetected.

Maybe he should have opted for a sneakier approach.

Mikey was further reclined though his phone was still in his face. “Get your package?”

“Yes.” Donnie rounded the sofa with his guard up.

“D-Donnie?” You called out.

To say he hadn’t seen you would be a lie, but you were being swallowed up by the bean bag as of now.

Pretending not to hear you would be rude.

“Yes…?” He tried to keep you in his periphery by looking just beside your head.

“We… Um… Well, we’re taking a b-break if you w-wanted to… I know you were b-busy, but…?” You held your phone close to your lips, hiding behind it.

Mikey smiled as he clearly scrolled.

Donnie stared.

There had been some sort of development that he had missed.

He wasn’t sure what.

You had wanted to stop playing, but you hadn’t used him.

Was that because he avoided you?

Why would you ask him to join now?

Mikey elbowed you.

Donnie watched on, feeling that creeping territory that said he shouldn’t be here.

You sank down in further misery.

You looked near tears.

Don’t wipe them.

They weren’t worrisome.

You were safe.

You obviously needed to process.

Mikey bumped you harder.

“I’m t-trying!” You complained.

Mikey had his phone up to show you something and frowned.

You blinked out of your concern. “O-oh… You weren’t trying to e-encourage me…?”

Mikey chuckled. “Where’s your head? I’m showing you the art I told you I was going to.”

“It’s nice…” You mumbled. “Send it to me?”

Mikey nodded back into his spot. “I’m sticking to the fanart thing. Have fun failing to invite D to hang out.”

You fumbled your device.

Invite him?

He already said he wouldn’t play the game.

Had he not been clear?

Donnie shifted his weight to one hip to think.

You took a deep breath. “T-that’s n-notI…! I w-wanted… to m-make sure you… didn’t f-feel uncomfortable be-because you thought that m-maybe we were e-excluding you…?”

“Excluding me?” Donnie reared with further confusion. “We didn’t have plans.”

You looked like you wanted to disappear into your seat.

“Okay.” Mikey sighed and let his phone fall onto his plastron. “I know you both too well. Here’s the deal.”

You made a nervous little noise.

Donnie felt the pull to flee again.

“I thought you should take a break. Y/N worried you thought you were intruding, which isn’t wrong. I know that you get all up in your head when… how do you say it? Something like, ‘your attendance isn’t expressly requested?’” Mikey gestured between the lot. “So here’s the invite: if you wanna hang out, we’re all gonna mess around on our phones. That’s like your fourth favorite parallel play. Join us! How’s that?” He turned his head with a rustle towards you.

You gave a nod that appeared to confirm your portion.

Donnie blinked once. “Huh.”

“D-don’t f-feel like y-you have t-to…” You rushed to add.

“Yeah, that too.” Mikey picked his phone back up.

Mikey moved on and you appeared to be the only one waiting for Donnie.

Donnie finally looked at you properly and you jolted.

You noticed he hadn’t been gazing directly and, after the initial shock wore off, your lids lowered with a beckoned question.

He was laying out on the couch and staring up at the ceiling before he realized it.

Pathetic.

It wasn’t even comfortable because of his battle shell.

He’d preferred to be sitting up.

The couch was too old.

“D-Donnie have you seen…?” You were on the floor, but you were almost right next to him.

Technically Mikey was closest, but you were the next.

He turned his head to look at a meme you showed him.

Had he seen it?

Yes.

He asked to see more anyway.

Mikey’s body buckled under a laugh and suddenly there was a flurry of messages being discussed. Donnie’s phone appeared as a safeguard. Conversation continued on about gossip this and breakthrough that. You kept him from being a third wheel. Nine total times you brought Donnie into the conversation.

Donnie felt oddly settled. By now, Mikey would have forgotten about him. Donnie knew his brother. It wasn’t done out of cruelty, but because they’d known each other their whole lives. Mikey didn’t feel the need to include him. Donnie was often plugged in and half listening in gatherings anyway.

Did you know that?

He didn’t care.

He ate up the attention and if Leo were here, he would have called bullshit on the many lies Donnie told just to keep your attention. Whether Mikey noticed or not, Donnie didn’t care. Mikey could be equally oblivious. On more than one occasion the youngest had feigned innocence on a topic if only to allow another person more room to talk.

Altruistic.

Donnie felt like a liar in comparison.

He wanted you to include him.

He played dumb so you would keep supposedly helping him.

He was painfully selfish.

The conversation eventually drifted.

Each person was supposedly doing their own thing except Donnie who was staring at a feed he hadn’t touched. He should try, he thought. He had only prompted you through the entire verbal exchange. It was meant to be his turn. A conversation was between two or more parties. That meant he needed to instigate something. He only had to choose a topic.

Which?

Hadn’t he treaded all over the usual ones?

What else was there to say?

This spelled doom.

You had nothing in common.

What a farce.

“Oh… Oh!” Mikey piped up.

You turned lightly to give him your attention.

“Y/N, that night market you wanted to go to finally scheduled another date!” Mikey held out his phone.

“R-really?!” You sounded excited.

Good.

Donnie was happy for you.

“Yeah, so it’s now on… Oh…” Mikey brought his device back, crestfallen.

“What’s w-wrong?” You moved to rotate your body as your head wasn’t enough.

“It’s the same nights as my Italia fair…” Mikey wilted. “I’m working.”

“O-oh…” You similarly sank.

Donnie needed to beat his passivity and he supposed this was an opportunity. “What sort of night market? There always seems to be one.”

“Y/N wanted to go to the dumpling one!”

“D-dumplings!”

You both tittered at speaking in unison.

It made Donnie feel sick.

“You said another?” Donnie directed his question toward Mikey.

“Yeah, Y/N and I were gonna go to the last two, but there was… stuff… that came up!” Mikey swiped through his phone to move on.

The period of sadness Mikey went through and the subsequent distance that had been exacted between you both.

Donnie let his phone go to sleep.

That made sense.

He also understood if you weren’t ready to go out on your own in this case. He knew what a sensory nightmare the night market was and it was not an experience he imagined anyone survived alone. Lights, smoke, yelling, and lines, he avoided that sort of thing himself if he could help it.

He turned his head enough to peek at you.

You had pulled up the night market page on your phone.

You stared sullenly at the date.

You were excited.

You wanted to go.

His lips parted, but he froze.

It wasn’t his place.

This was Mikey’s territory.

Mikey probably told you about the event.

Mikey probably knew the vendors.

“When is it?” Donnie spoke in spite of himself.

“Fourteenth and fifteenth.” Mikey bobbed his head to his own beat before he stalled out. “Wait.”

His little brother was like an emotional bloodhound.

Donnie’s eyes shot wide at his error.

He tried to bury it as he watched in horrified slow motion as Mikey spun around with a craning elbow to view him with starry eyes. “You!”

Jostled by the bean bag, you looked up, not comprehending what had transpired.

“Mikey…!” Donnie warned and sat up in preparation.

Mikey dropped right back down into his spot and started scrolling.

That was unusual.

What was he going for?

With a cold sweat, Donnie remembered their shared family calendar.

His blood pressure plummeted as he switched to trying to get his own app up to revoke Mikey’s access.

“Ha! Perfect! You’re free!” Mikey announced, beating him to it.

Donnie winced against the calendar’s color coding.

“I don’t…?” You wondered.

“Well?” Mikey shot him a look and waggled his brow ridge.

“I was only curious.” Donnie got hold of his tone and forced out neutrality.

Mikey continued to study him.

He could play it cool.

Donnie switched back to the thread he hadn’t read.

He felt his little brother’s eye hover for a few moments longer before he dipped into the bean bag again. “Really? Again? Fine… Whatever!”

You made a little curious sound at having been left in the dark.

“Nothing, I guess.” Mikey shrugged. “Seems like I’m the only one who knows how to ask questions tonight. I thought someone was going to ask if you two could go together.”

There was a whack and you squeaked.

Both men turned to find you plucking your phone from your face. “D-dropped i-it! S-sorry!”

“Silly.” Mikey hummed affection before shimmying into the bag once more.

“It was an a-accident…” You held your phone tighter to offset your shame.

You both bickered lightly while Donnie was stuck.

You could go together.

Mikey seemed fine with the proposition.

It was weird.

Wasn’t it?

How had Leo put it?

He’d said something about no matter how chill Mikey was, there’d always be an inherent weirdness to you and Donnie doing anything together.

You didn’t do that to family.

Raph had announced his faith.

If Mikey said something then he should be trusted.

Neither brother was wrong.

April had told him to be true to himself.

Donnie wanted to know you.

He wanted to have his own inside jokes.

His own shared activities.

He wanted to be selfish.

Mikey had given his blessing.

“You’re… grouchy tonight…” Your voice broke through even though your tone was a quiet one.

“Am not!” Mikey huffed in return.

A silence stretched between you and quieted Donnie’s mind.

“Okay, fine!” Mikey relented. “I just want to keep playing the game and you’re both being ridiculous.”

“T-that’s not f-fair…” You verbally pursued him.

“It’s a little fair and you know exactly why.” Mikey had a knowing tone.

Your mouth audibly clicked shut.

Mikey hummed in victory.

“Just d-dont… a-assume for… him…” The last part was spoken in near silence.

Donnie heard Mikey turn toward you.

Something he couldn’t catch was exchanged and by the time he looked, you were returning Mikey’s gaze.

“He’s here.” Mikey whispered. “Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You asked…” You responded and tucked into the bean bag.

For a moment Mikey gave an affectionate, but hopeless look at you.

He then trended upward to share that look with Donnie.

There was an obvious expectation there.

Donnie had been meant to extrapolate something from the exchange.

What was it?

He reviewed the facts thus far and tried his best to sweep away the errant thoughts.

There had been murmurs of a secondary conversation.

He heard it now and when he went to get the package.

Mikey had said you failed to ask him to hang out, but that had been a joke.

Hadn’t it?

Donnie searched Mikey.

The younger only gave him a knowing smile before his gaze dropped obviously to where you were still hiding.

Did that mean you wanted to spend time with him?

Donnie was speaking before he could stop himself. “I can’t say I enjoy events like this. I won’t know the chefs. I prefer to critique outdoor food prep as it’s never up to New York code. I won’t conjure a peppy demeanor. The sounds. The sights. I will surely be in a bad mood.”

That sounded terrible.

If he was trying to sell himself he was doing the opposite.

Was he trying to talk you or himself out of going?

You and Mikey were painfully quiet.

Mikey was right; he was too much in his own head.

His eyes closed.

“I d-don’t mind any of that…”

Right.

It didn’t matter with who, you just wanted to go.

He was moronic for letting his little brother convince him otherwise.

You needed a body and barrier for the crowds.

It didn’t make sense for you to go alone.

Donnie didn’t want to be used and yet here he was offering himself up.

He held off a sigh.

That was his own doing.

“I d-don’t… e-expect you to… be Mikey…” You were firm even in your stammer.

His pupil trailed off, afraid to search for you.

“You’re… you.”

Him.

“As l-long as M-Mikey d-didn’t force you…? Um… I-if you really d-don’t mind going…? I… w-want to go…” Your legs slid out of his vision as you pulled them up close to your body out of fear.

You.

“With you…” You looked straight at him. “I want to go… with you.”

There was a moment where Donnie could only hear his heart in his tympanum.

“It’ll be fun.” Mikey interjected casually.

You nodded a little too furiously.

How did you do that?

Donnie thought his heart might escape the cae of his chest. “If you’re that determined and don’t mind my lack of enthusiasm then I suppose it’s settled.”

“D-don’t you want… d-dumplings?” You turned to him with a sort of offense.

“A dough with a wide ranging definition?” Donnie shared a look he hoped translated some levity.

You took note of it and pouted.

He smiled.

Your features softened and you gave one of your own. “W-we’ll f-find one y-you like.”

Donnie gave an interested hum.

He did like an objective.

“Good for you, Y/N.” Mikey spoke encouragement. “You can finally check something off the mega list.”

Donnie blinked once towards his brother and back to you. “Mega list?”

You flushed and disappeared from his sight. “I-it’s nothing!”

Mikey clucked with laughter. “Y/N is actually a fiend at making lists. I called it the mega one, but it’s like their anxiety bucket list of things they want to do someday.”

“You make lists?” Donnie turned an alluring gaze on you. “Let me see.”

You made lists.

He loved that.

He could barely contain himself.

There was so much he didn’t know.

He wanted more.

He wanted every detail.

He was voracious.

“It’s not…” You started to protest, but moved to flip through your phone before offering a page up. “D-don’t expect m-much… M-Mikey m-made it seem b-big… but it’s just a few things that I’ve n-never been able to… do…”

Donnie took great care in plucking your device out of your grasp and read.

Dumpling Night Market

Planetarium Show

Theater Performance

Amusement Park

Donnie smiled. “Nice formatting.”

Mikey hummed agreement.

Donnie rolled his eyes and held your phone out.

You took it with a tentative look in your eye.

“It took forever to convince Y/N they were ready for even one list item.” Mikey mentioned to Donnie before looking at you. “I’m really glad you won’t miss it again.”

You gave an excited nod and held your phone close.

“I will escort you with that in mind.” Donnie told you.

Mikey put a hand on your head. “Now, kids! I better see you back by curfew!”

Mikey was scolded from two sides until he couldn’t contain his laughter.

You were late.

You were so late.

Your keychain thumped in tandem with the lightweight bag against your hip as you ran. Plowing forward, you did your best not to bump into anyone. You managed, but still received several dirty looks. Trying to shrug them off as you felt bad enough, you hit a crosswalk buzzing with traffic. Mingling with the others, you checked your phone to find Donnie’s last message was the one confirming he’d meet you there.

You hadn’t meant to be late.

You wanted to meet him beforehand.

You’d wanted to talk to him in a place where you didn’t have to battle against the noise of a crowd.

You wanted more time.

You were finally going to see him.

There was a blip and pedestrians were given the go ahead. You picked up the pace and moved with the throng as you grew closer to your destination. Only a few streets away from the night market, you jogged as best you could with the thickening crowds. The group was converging on the same place and your heart sank as you realized it would be nearly impossible to find Donnie.

That was until you saw him, lifted above the other heads with his goggles down, and doing an obvious scan of everyone entering.

You moved as obviously toward him as you could and when he spied you, he clicked his goggles up and dropped down from whatever had lifted him. Within a few more steps you were united and he snagged your arm against the pull of the crowd before gesturing behind him. You trailed with him, trying not to linger on the warmth of his touch until he tucked you in beside an open area of fence.

You were with him.

You were finally together.

For every terror you had about this event, it was immediately either worth it or forgotten.

“Let’s see…” Knowing he wouldn’t lose you gave him the confidence to observe you. “Your footwear is sensible. Perfect and what’s this...?”

He turned his hand over in an obvious gesture as he carefully took the Black Bean plush clipped to your bag.

“A good luck charm…” You told him.

He appraised it and you with an appreciative eye before he released. “I find your outfit commendable.”

You looked down at yourself with a smile. “I thought long and hard. I have this bag so it’s easy to get to my stuff without being a pickpocket target. I tested out to make sure the plush wasn’t going anywhere. These are my most comfortable shoes and I picked clothes that didn’t stick out or have loops so I won’t get caught on anything!”

When you brought your gaze up, you found him staring with large eyes.

“U-uh, i-is s-something w-wrong?! I t-thought…” You almost wished you had an errant sleeve to tug on.

“No.” He reached out tenderly and took both of your hands. “Nothing at all.”

“I-I?!” You squeezed him. “Then w-what is it?”

He shook his head.

There was something to him.

The carefree nonchalance said everything was as it should be.

You believed him.

“Can I also assume you have a plan of attack?” He asked with a bright gaze.

You perked up.

All your planning was not only worthy, but requested.

You pulled from him immediately to get your phone.

He leaned in and you showed him the map you had drawn up. “I researched the past events and then tiered the vendors based on what we have to get. It’s impossible to eat everything, unfortunately.”

You peeked at him and found that same warmth on his face.

It translated to yours and your lips warbled in not knowing how to ask what was stirring him.

Whatever it was, you hoped it kept up.

You felt indebted to him.

Both because you could finally spend time with him and attend this event.

You wanted to do anything that would make this outing easier for him.

You wanted to do anything for him.

You liked him.

Overwhelmed by a rush of butterflies, you pointed out a nervous finger. “I-if I h-had gotten h-here earlier, w-we could have g-gotten at line for the m-most popular booth… N-now I doubt it’ll m-matter… They’ll s-sell out…”

“I’ll monitor. I can estimate crowds and chart approximate movement.” His chin bobbed and with a sharp snap his goggles fell into place over his eyes.

You hid your giggle behind your phone.

His observation skills were adorable.

It was hard to recall the time you dreaded them.

You guessed that was the case for everything in your life as of late.

“Show me your map once more. I’ll log it.”

You adjusted the size and held it up to him.

His goggles made no sound, but his head eventually moved away with a purpose that said he got all he needed. “Only three people are in line at booth option 104. Let’s move.”

You gave yourself one last mental pep talk as you walked. While you coached yourself, Donnie took the lead position in line. Once there, he appropriately judged the people in front, the vendor, and then finally you as he turned to speak.

His mouth was open when you realized you hadn’t started a single conversation the entire time you’d been with him.

You hadn’t even told him hello.

You went straight into a stupid spiel about yourself before tending to the one man you wanted to take care of more than anything. Flushed at your sudden mountain of failures, you waffled on options and made a pitched sound. His brow cocked an exaggerated high for you to see and he closed his lips so you could take your turn.

You had interrupted him on top of everything else.

You could not be ruining this date anymore.

Date.

Where your cheeks were already hot, they exploded.

That wasn’t what this was.

You were barely friends.

You’d barely seen him in 7 months.

Half a year was the time lost from when you told him you liked him in his own kitchen.

You presumed nothing.

You had gone through this already.

You had no idea if he still liked you.

By all accounts, he seemingly didn’t.

In all the small moments you had seen him since, he hadn’t reacted at all. You’d tried sending your lingering intentions to speak to him with your eyes alone, but none of them had coaxed him. You had worked so hard to be appealing. You didn’t dare consider it flirting, but you had looked up non-verbal techniques from ancient magazines. There was a shifting gaze under your lashes that was supposed to be alluring. You’d practiced it for hours in a mirror until you attempted it on him. He hadn’t even glanced at you for more than a second before he was gone. You did it wrong, you were sure after that, but you tried again and again.

All until Mikey had taken notice and asked why you were giving Donnie the stink eye.

You had nearly burst into tears.

A few talks later and Mikey encouraged to actually talk to Donnie, but that was easier said than done.

You need to get his attention, but catching him felt more like hailing a busy waiter in a restaurant. Walking up to him out of the blue was a moot point. The tenuous steps you would take in his direction would undoubtably match the time necessary to talk yourself out of it. All you could do was wait for his attention. For weeks, then months, you waited with darting eyes and hope he would walk your way, but he did.

He caught you off guard by appearing on a day when Mikey said he would be busy. Despite failing that conversational tree in every way possible, you still ended up here. All your previous worries were founded as here you were, once again getting ahead of yourself on top of a mounting trash pile of shortcomings. Your lip warbled and you felt your throat tighten around sound, but it was swallowed up by the crowd.

The line moved.

Donnie took his dutiful step with it.

You followed after and stared at the ground.

What were you doing?

You were wallowing.

You rolled on the bottom of your comfortable sneakers.

Their cushions kept your feet safe.

You were safely buried in your own psyche.

It felt like too much was on you.

You needed to lead.

You needed to have a good time.

You needed to make sure Donnie did too.

Feeling mixed up, you screwed your eyes shut.

The only thing you could thank the crowd for was that it blanketed your misery.

For now you were alone in your cold, dark mind.

The empty void where time wasted away.

A smell wafted up to your nose.

One of many that seemed to come and go, this one lingered.

Cracking an eye, sound rushed you first before you realized a small brown tub holding two dumplings in it was being held at your chest level.

It brought your eyes which you traced up to find Donnie’s arm extending them.

He was on the other side with a casual look on his face and his own boat in his other hand.

Your breath came out stuttered and you looked back to the vendor where you were clearly in the way of the line.

You scrambled a few steps to the side while murmuring a string of apologies.

Donnie followed after, still trying to get you to take the dish.

You grabbed it with both hands. “I don’t… I didn’t tell you what kind… I’m sorry. You had to pay and-”

“I got the one you marked: traditional vegetable momo, aka the most famous at the stand along with the spicy dipping sauce, which was mistakenly placed in my container.” Since you freed his hand up, he plucked the little plastic cup and placed it into your boat.

“But…?”

“Your list.”

You looked down at the faint steam wafting from your food.

“Your plan was thorough.” He urged you to go ahead and used a toothpick to scoop up one of his momos.

You rushed to catch up to him and took an immediate bite. Piping hot to the point it scalded, you blew out a few times before the flavor and juices hit your tongue. You then shot starry eyes in Donnie’s direction which he received with a nod. “There’s this girl-” You were careful in pouring a bit of sauce over your other momo. “-she’s obsessed with any kind of chili oil and makes it look so good, but I’m a little scared it’ll be too much.”

“A girl?” He asked as he chewed.

“Someone I follow on social for food in the area. Her videos are so good and she’s super honest. I can’t go to sleep until I’ve watched one. It’s a good thing she posts daily!” You took your second bite with a bit more care and felt the spice blend mingle into the dish. “So good!”

“Quite.” Donnie tapped his tech gauntlet.

Your mouth was full so you couldn’t ask, but you tilted your head in question at his action.

He extended his arm to show the screen had a list of what he would eat and his ratings. “Michael told me to bring back a full report. He knows not what he’s wrought!”

You giggled as you swallowed. “I like doing that t-too! I can look back and think ‘yes, I did love the veggie one!’”

Donnie made it obvious as he added another table and punctuated it with your name. “How many categories would you like to rank them on?”

You stepped a bit closer to him and took his boat to free up his hands. “I’ll stick with one.”

Donnie had a slight wrinkle to his beak in judgment, so he added notes for item, stall, and then an open blank for review.

You dictated your thoughts to him and he took them down word for word.

You watched him then switch back to his own list where he noted food temperature.

He wrote until you built up enough steam yourself. “Donnie…?”

“Yes?” He didn’t look up.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He wanted to linger on his review, but he drug his eyes to yours.

You saw a clear expression there.

Had he really not noticed?

He usually noticed when you were upset.

Had you banked on that too much?

This was an easy situation to get over-stimulated in.

Did he just not care?

You had no idea where he stood.

“Y/N.” His head lowered some, closer to your vision.

“Y-yes?”

“For what?” He pressed again and one corner of his lips turned up the slightest amount.

He had known.

You hadn’t overestimated.

He cared.

He just wasn’t making it a big deal.

Because it wasn’t.

Your heart filled and you gave him a watery smile. “I was so excited I forgot to say hello!”

His lips expanded with a bit of bright teeth. “True. You were so tardy that it interfered with our entrance.”

You jolted. “I’m sorry! I s-swear I had packed everything in my bag, but suddenly I couldn’t find my emergency kit and I can’t leave home without it!”

“Emergency kit?” He took back his trash and yours with some amusement.

“It’s…” You looked up the top corner of your vision in an attempt to seek out a way to explain it without making you sound insane. “Not… like a first aid kit, but a kit… to well… Um… Cover anything? It has bandages, burn gel, mint chapstick, a to-go pack of antacids, a fishing line, an emergency blanket, hand sanitizer, a granola bar….”

Donnie eyed you with a growing smile.

“Everything's tiny!” You made a box with your hands no bigger than your fist. “The whole thing is like this! It’s compact!”

“Tell me about the fishing line while we head towards number seven on your list; the line has been moving fast.” He swept a hand, but led toward said stall.

You followed after trying to explain how fishing line could be used for not only its intended purpose, but also as thread for clothing or stitches. You went into far too much detail about its utility for your liking and hadn’t realized until it was too late that you’d launched into a story where you’d once helped a friend with it when her bra strap had broken. He seemed undeterred by your babbling and eventually took his turn in explaining his battle shells. They had a litany of their own emergency provisions and you eventually had soup dumplings in hand. This time you let them cool and you shared that you had misplaced the kit because you’d refreshed its supply of stomach medicine for just this event.

“Worried about adventurous eating?” Donnie gestured to his dish.

You gave a guilty nod.

He pushed no further and switched gears to eating and exchanging notes.

Both from the delicious dumpling and because Donnie had not only indulged, but sympathized with your preparedness, you were warmed. He took extra time writing his review and you watched him unabashedly. Letting affection leak on your face, you only wanted to know more. You wanted to know what he thought about every stall even if you couldn’t eat at them. You wanted to walk with him and learn about every invention he ever made. You wanted more of those not so sly confirmations that he was present when with you.

When he finished and moved to pass you a comment, you hadn’t had time to put the love struck expression away.

You also didn’t bother hiding it.

You watched him take it in before he gave a metered one of his own that held a tinge as if it couldn’t be helped.

“Hi.” You spoke the syllable in a voice that sounded melodic to your ears.

It caught him off guard and his brow bent. “Hello…?”

“I wanted to… thank you for coming with me.” You shifted your weight and tried your best to open you body language.

You wanted to hug him, but had no idea how to initiate.

You didn’t like relying on him, but it was all you could do.

He studied you very closely before he seemed unsure in offering one of his hands.

You remembered how he’d grabbed you when you’d entered the night market.

It warmed your cheeks and you slid your fingers past his palm to instead grasp his forearm.

He allowed it. “Glad to be here.”

You moved your other hand up as a signal.

“I’ve been pleasantly surprised.” This time he placed his arm into your hand to match the other side.

You held steady as you ramped yourself up for more.

“The crowd is otherwise tame.”

You moved your grip up to his elbows.

“The food’s been enjoyable.”

You stepped into his space.

“I can’t say I mind the company.” He spied you.

Your shoulders rose, sheepish.

“I wonder…” His head lowered, but he pointedly looked away as if searching for something else. “You seem to want something.”

“Y-yeah…?” Your fingers curled around his upper arm.

“You can’t hide a thing on that face of yours.”

“My face…?” You tried to look up to him, but he was already there, hunched close.

You were caught by the teasing in his eyes.

He chuckled lightly and moved to encase you.

You were ready to return his affection when you caught a glimpse of someone walking by.

You dipped out of Donnie’s hold and started jogging towards that direction. “Donnie! One is open!! Number one! The number one!”

You couldn’t look back where you’d left him behind.

This seemed like your only chance.

He appeared with longer legs to surpass you and snapped up the first spot in line at the stall against several other people trying to do the same.

You joined him at his hip and sent him the full brunt of your gratitude.

You didn’t feel great about ducking him, but you hoped he understood.

You never saw his face as the vendor had his attention.

“Good timing!” The man at the stall cheered. “I just got a fresh batch ready. Almost ran out, but my son came through!”

“This early?” Donnie had a judgmental tone.

You bumped him lightly as you tried not to dance in place.

“You see…” The man opened a steamer and disappeared in a meat-scented blaze. “I usually have a surplus, but there was a party earlier today and my best staff member is on maternity leave!”

“I see…” Donnie nodded, evaluating.

“Surprise boy! Three weeks early.” He placed three dumplings each in two bags. “You won’t see me close. We shall continue on!”

“Good luck to both of you.” Donnie paid and took the food which he immediately passed off as you couldn’t wait.

The man cheered behind before taking the next customer’s order.

Your hands were warmed and you cradled both crinkling sacks while staring through the steam at Donnie. “I can’t believe you tried to sass number one!”

“I’m allowed judge. You got your results.” He cocked a lazy grin as he pinched his portion free from your hold.

“I didn’t think we’d get these!” Your grin was so wide you felt the wafting mist brush your teeth. “I can’t wait. I’ll deal with the burns tomorrow!”

“The list says bao, but there are a litany of varieties. They need to stop curtailing their naming conventions for Americans… What kind are they…?” Donnie pondered as he searched for something.

You secured a bit of fluffy dough and sank your teeth into the scorching softness.

This was the stuff famous stalls were known for.

You couldn’t help it.

You tossed your head back and gave a full mouthed moan.

You heard a shutter click and shot to attention.

Donnie lowered his phone from where he’d spun around to take a selfie with your euphoric moment. “Good one.”

“H-hey!” You tried to grab the device.

He pulled it away before showing you the well composed image.

You didn’t look bad.

You looked ecstatic.

You dropped a certain level of your complaint.

“Come on…” He held out a hand and flapped his fingers for you to give him his compliment.

“You should have asked.” You told him as if that was a tip and stuffed the rest of the bun in your mouth.

“Well I never!” He feigned a scandalized gasp.

You hummed the notes of ‘I can’t hear you’ as you chewed.

He took another photo and you chased him. “But those cheeks!”

You swallowed hard. ”Donnie!”

“Cute.” He jeered and led you purposefully to another stall.

You bumped annoyed into his battle shell as you waited behind him.

“This one wasn’t listed…” He spoke with a new cadence as if he hadn’t realized where he’d gone.

“Huh?” Your phone was out as soon as his goggles came down. “How can that be…?”

“It’s not on the vendor map.” Donnie turned and pulled his goggles up in time. “How do you account for a situation like this?”

“Try it!” You pulled eager fists up. “A surprise contender!”

He chuckled and seemed to remember his last purchase which he munched on until it was your turn to order.

He quizzed the stall owner on their admittance to the market and came to learn they had slipped in last minute due to a friend of a friend. Donnie openly criticized the sloppy admission process, but you still came away with a set of gyoza. You listened to him pout as you ate yours and eventually prompted him to try. He was only slightly abated by how tasty they were and you cycled through stall after stall.

Talking all while you walked and ate, you eventually grew fatigued of all the wrapped foods and got a pair of fruit teas in bags. The dark coloring and vague menu meant you hadn’t known they were packed with grass jelly which Donnie choked on with his first sip. Put off from the texture and experience, he dumped his while you sipped more carefully on yours. A drink a little too large, you ruminated over wasting it, but it also weighed heavily in your hand.

While you switched it to your other palm, Donnie tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow him. You trailed after and he brought you to a clear spot against a planter box. He hopped up to sit on one side and you stared at its height. It was something you would have to jump up onto you and you weren’t prepared. Struggling further as your drink wasn’t really made to be put down, Donnie took it. You thanked him abysmally as that wasn’t a solution to your true problem. You didn’t have the best track record with getting up on high seats, but you willed with your entire being for this to work. Lowering your core, you hopped up the best you could.

You missed and scraped your leg as you slid back down to your feet.

Humiliated and hanging onto the planter for dear life, you waited for the inevitable shutter of Donnie immortalizing your humiliation.

Only the sounds of the market continued to drone on.

Peeking at him, you found him looking ahead where his eye darted lazily as he people watched.

You jumped, but missed yet again.

This was the part where Mikey would swoop in.

This was the part you assumed Donnie would too.

Your failing.

Waiting to be scooped up like the child you were, again nothing happened.

This time checking on Donnie found him reviewing the map.

“You’re… not…?” You murmured even though you hadn’t meant to.

“Not what?” He didn’t give you his eye and flicked his thumb to scroll. “We’re nearing the end of your required targets. When we return, let’s get a sweet bun so our taste buds don’t fatigue as quickly since we had a failing in our… drink debacle.”

“Sure…” You looked down at the brick you clung to.

Was he downplaying again?

If you asked, would he help?

You had several more questions stewing, but for the first time tonight you narrowed your gaze and told them no.

Uncharacteristic of yourself, the negative thoughts shirked away into the recesses.

You were tired of it.

You were tired of missing out when none of the things you’d worried about had once gotten in the way. Tonight was a rousing success and you weren’t even feeling that sense of doom that happiness would inevitably lead to ruin. It felt only like everything was as it should be and with a heave, you hoisted yourself up onto the planter and right next to Donnie’s side.

He gave a light chuff. “Look what Raph just sent me.”

Careful and with a certain distance, he tucked an arm behind your back to stabilize himself as he leaned in to show you the projected screen on his gauntlet. You looked at it and felt yourself sinking into his presence. Everything he did tonight was calculated and non-intrusive. While he helped lead, everything he did was orchestrated from your plan.

You giggled for many more reasons than just the video he showed you. Donnie hummed a sort of affection and swiped so a related video would come up. It almost seemed like he wanted to hear you laugh again. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted to share his light with you as it was shared with him. You leaned in enough that you could play it off as bumping his shoulder, but you gingerly rested your head against him.

He stilled.

You lifted off and commented something about what you had just seen.

You gave him cover.

You made a mistake.

You assumed.

Just because one wanted their companion in good spirits didn’t mean they had adjunct feelings.

That was fine.

You were here with him.

You were having a great night.

It was okay that his reply was taking too long.

You had misjudged his intention.

You knew your place.

You wouldn't touch him again.

That almost hug earlier would have been too much.

It was a blessing that you had interrupted it.

You logged the information.

It was fine.

You were fine.

His arm shifted and he gripped the brick on the other side of your hip which tucked you in against him.

From the side of his body to his entire arm, he pressed around you.

It was your turn to tense.

He didn’t shirk away and brought up another video.

Still waiting for his retreat, you let that one cycle for exactly one minute until you found he hadn’t moved.

Was that an offer?

You were terrified to find out.

Yet your head tipped and pressed against him a second time.

For a millisecond every one of your atoms screamed guilt.

He squeezed you ever so slightly.

It dispelled your concerns in an instant.

He’d been startled just as you had.

You felt drunk off the moment and laughed a little too loud as a lovebird tossed a toy in a jealous fit.

Scrolling there and onto other videos, you spent so long going back and forth sharing things that you only sot of registered that the crowd was tapering off. Donnie shut his gauntlet down while clearing his throat and said the timeline would need adjusting. You hopped off the planter for a relatively alright landing. He stood next, showing you your drink bag that loosely hung from his wrist and tipped his head toward the trash. You nodded furiously, thankful you had an excuse to get rid of it, and he made the quick trip to dump it.

You followed after him, having made some mental adjustments to the schedule and you shared them with him. He agreed with your calculations and together you rushed one line. There you each got dampfnudel and meant to take it with you to the next stall. The line there appeared to be good cover so you could eat your current faire, but time caught up with you. You were still waiting with empty trays after the German dish was devoured. You hummed nervously as you looked across the walkway to see the final stall on your list, your last must have, looking like they were about to close.

You bumped Donnie in your anxiety.

He only had to take one look to see what your concern was. “It would make the most sense to split up.”

“You’re right…” You nodded, trying not to show how downtrodden you were.

“I’ll be quick.” He brushed by you as he slipped away.

You meant to watch after his form, but he spun around and walked a mechanical backwards toward the stall so he could watch you instead.

You giggled and, at first, covered your mouth before you shifted to cup your lips. “Behind you! Your left!”

Donnie dodged a group of kids who rushed around his feet.

He sent you a thumbs up before he neared the cart and finally turned around.

“Move!” Someone behind you shouted and you scrambled as your line moved.

Heart thudding out of your chest for more than one reason, you only spared Donnie glances where he seemed to be talking to the vendor for a little too long. Knowing that probably meant they were sold out, you resigned yourself to having missed one. The trip was nowhere near a loss, but there was something frustrating about getting so close to a perfect run. Stepping forward one last time, you felt Donnie near you and turned to find him toting one single cup.

You looked over it and then him.

He held it just out of your reach.

“What’s up?”

“The last of the night was sold ten minutes ago.” He looked over his holding.

“Then what is…?” You moved up on the tips of your toes to try and look inside.

“How did you put it? Try something new when there’s a surprise contender?” He finally lowered the object so you could see inside.

You spied a splash of warm looking stew topped with a few springy balls of dough.

“I told him about your conquest and he found it impressive. He made me wait as he showed me his dinner. He said it was Madombi that his sister made. He insisted it fits the dumpling theme and that we take some. He talked up his sister’s cooking and forced me to accept an invitation to his brick and mortar restaurant. He tried to give me an entire pot, but I bargained him down to a sample.” He passed you the dish.

You took it with radiating surprise.

“I hope it's suitable… It was the best I could do.”

“Donnie-!”

“PAY ATTENTION!!!” The guy behind you looked to be one step away from body slamming you.

Donnie rose to his full height and glowered down at the man. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

The man made a peep very much like a scared chicken.

Turning, Donnie tucked a hand behind your back and led you the few paces forward that had you fallen behind in line.

“You didn’t have to…” You murmured, cradling the warm cup.

“True. I wanted to.” He clarified, his hand not moving.

You snatched a spoon from the closest stall as you hadn’t gotten utensils and worked carefully in creating a perfect little bite.

You felt Donnie watching you and the line.

Once you crafted everything you hoped, you held it up to him. “You s-should get the first bite…”

His face was painted with affection. “It’s for you.”

You didn’t relent and only said, “If you d-don’t want it, that’s one t-thing, but…”

He came down in a snap bend and popped the tip of the spoon in his mouth while maintaining eye contact.

You inhaled sharply and watched intently as he came away from the utensil clean.

He then adjusted his posture and considered the taste.

You came away from the one heart throbbing interaction and went straight into the next as you now saw your spoon as an indirect kiss. There was always the option to get another utensil, but you used the excuse of the line stepping forward to abandon that and got your own bite. When you came up to share your thoughts, Donnie was making notes and had your section ready. You dictated your thoughts for him, but you were cut off when the vendor suddenly asked, “What’ll it be?”

“O-oh, can we get two…?” You checked the menu and found it to be a sleek one food item and one drink. “… bowls, please?”

The worker thanked you and you took a turn to pay while suddenly feeling terrible that you barely had all night.

Now juggling three containers, you turned them to Donnie where he took one of his own.

The two of you walked out of the way of the grumpy man behind you and you debated cross contamination in finishing both dishes so close together.

“I need to pay you back…” You murmured and ate the last bite of Madombi.

“Hm.” There was an airy dismissiveness to Donnie’s tone.

You shot him a look that he pretended to ignore as he sipped the broth from his cup.

You shook your head at him and worked through your new offering while sharing your thoughts. There was another pit stop at a trash can where you worried over how filled they were and all the trash that had been created by this event. Donnie spoke of future technology to deal with waste and you listened with warm interest as he did a good job in simplifying the technical jargon. When you praised him, he only said he had years of practice with a haunted look.

Knowing the audience he was referring to, you gave him a wrinkled gaze. “Do you want to get them something to-go?”

Donnie’s beak scrunched up.

You giggled.

He waved the thought off, but you could tell you planted the idea.

You didn’t make a big deal out of him bringing back up his list and scrolling back through it to see if any contenders were applicable for transport. You mentioned the bao and he seemed to like the idea. You both then wandered with a belly filled saunter back towards that stall.

Night truly reigned over the market as many of the stalls were no longer lit. People were leaking out of the space and seemed to appear between pockets of light from overhead lamps. You drew close to Donnie and were just lulled enough to consider taking his hand when you reached the bao stall to find it closed.

“Well! That’s too bad!” Donnie seemed pleased until something else occurred to him. “We… did we complete your list?”

“I think so…” You got your phone out to double check and listed the stalls you meant to try.

Donnie filled in each notation with what you’d eaten.

“That’s… all of them…” You slowed and stared at your phone with a growing gooeyness to your gaze.

You’d done it.

You’d managed to do the event.

You’d completed your quest with only minor delay.

Now it was over.

Watching your screen darken, you felt a tug in your chest. There was no excuse now and it had been a few hours since you met. You and Donnie would go your separate ways. It seemed all too fast and there no longer seemed like enough time. In a small fit of dismay, you turned that worry up to him to find him scanning the market with his own urgency.

A bubble of hope said he felt the same.

“Walk me home…?” You whispered as quiet as you could, fearful of your own boldness.

You watched the question permeate him regardless and he came down at you with metered lids. “Of course.”

You gave a withheld nod, joy flooding where you earned yourself another block of time with him.

You might have been projecting, but he seemed just as happy for it and he gestured for you to lead.

You feigned a courteous bow before doing so and he moved beside you to give you his closing remarks on the whole event. He held nothing back, complaining loudly of disorganization and poor line management. You watched on with an obvious fondness. Even though he pulled eyes with his volume, you liked how honest he was. It was how he always carried himself. It felt as though you never had to worry about bothering him because he was going to abashedly let you know the moment something did.

In your distant periphery, you saw a huge swing of movement.

It was a stark contrast to the people meandering around and you slowed.

Donnie took a few more steps before noticing and you got a clear view across the lot.

Just outside of the market proper, there was a stall set up. Something informal, a man stood before a giant flaming pot. He swung high with some type of squeeze bottle in hand and spiraled out what appeared to be dough in perfect coordination. He had amassed a small crowd and you saw another man behind him scoop golden loops out of the burning pot with a comically large spider. The two moved in perfect harmony and you saw fried spirals fly between them.

“Jalebi…” You spoke with knowledge you didn’t possess as you hadn’t actually seen the dish crafted.

“Pardon?” Donnie fumbled back to your side while also trying to catch what you were looking at.

“I’ve never seen a jalebi stand for real.” You told him, mesmerized as more dough was spun. “There’s videos of street markets online, but never one here. They have it at restaurants, but you don’t see this part…”

Donnie finally located the stall in question and griped. “That is not legal. An open flame like that? They’re begging to be run off.”

You moved closer to Donnie as his complaint broke your intrigue.

He was right.

You would stay at this distance.

You could watch safely without culpability.

Even the chance of getting yelled at was something you preferred to avoid.

“Yeah…” You forced it to the ground. “Y-you were s-saying s-something about… um…? Oh! You were upset about the stands closing at different times?”

“Yes.” He waited beside you. “If they’re a coordinated effort then…”

He immediately tapered off.

His silence weighed heavily so you looked up to see what had stopped him.

Instead of elsewhere, his gaze was keenly trained on you.

“What is it?” His head tilted.

You stuttered your confusion.

“Why did you give up just now?” He appeared to loom.

You shrank. “G-give up?”

“Jalebi!” He gestured behind him. “You couldn’t look away. You clearly wanted some, so what changed your mind? Is it because I lacked interest? Are you simply full? Was it the spectacle?”

His attitude change seemed harsh and you flinched further.

He held his stance.

The weight of his gaze became suffocating. “D-Donnie, I-”

“Be honest.” It was a plea.

It was unlike his body language.

It pulled your eye.

This time you tried to examine him without pretense.

Where you’d read anger, you now read frustration.

His drawn brows said it was less with you and more about what he didn’t understand.

He’d been so good to you this evening.

He’d been watching.

The thought repeated and you stepped a little closer to him.

The sharpness of his eye softened, but he continued to beg you for information.

He’d been trying harder than you even noticed to be supportive.

Now that he was faced with a situation where he didn’t know the best course, he’d piped right up with his honesty.

You moved close enough and lightly touched his arm. “I-I’m worried s-since it’s illegal…”

He chuffed into a smile. “You’ve kept the wrong company.”

You blinked up at his insinuation.

“I am very often on the supposedly incorrect side of the law.” He explained with a cock of his brow that said you should very well know that.

You looked down and remembered clearly how he’d terrorized you.

He’d also been building a rocket.

Among a dozen other little borderline nefarious notes you’d heard.

You tapped him once to illustrate you recalled and a second time to give yourself a moment before you looked at him anew.

“I… d-don’t want to get yelled at.” You tried again.

“You won’t.” His face was set in determination and you thought you should always clarify your responses from now on. “How about this? I’ll keep watch and you get yourself one of whatever that is.”

“M-me-!?” You squeaked out until the rest of your horror at having to order something alone took your tongue.

He seemed ready for it. “What are you worried about? You’ve already made one independent purchase tonight.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what he was talking about.

Then it struck you that you’d been the one to order at that last stall.

You hadn’t even noticed.

You’d been distracted.

You’d been out of your head.

He watched on with a half cocked grin as you came to all those realizations.

You resisted sinking into him and offset the feeling by leaning close. “W-was it a t-trick?”

“No.” He reached up and lightly traced your arm. “It was all you.”

“You…” You fought a million more worries and thought of the strength you could siphon from him. “… don’t want any?”

“I don’t know what it is. I’ll reserve the right to taste if that changes your order. You will surprise me with your decision upon you return successful.” He had a levity to his voice.

He made it a game.

He gave you a challenge.

One that was achievable and had a clear reward.

You turned up watery eyes to him and gave a sharp nod.

He stepped out of your way.

You marched straight toward the stand and held your anxiety by the throat. You weren’t going to let a drop of your resolve slip away and you entered the line. You added one caveat to the contest; you weren’t going to make it harder and instead, you were going to sweeten the pot. You decided you weren’t going to look at Donnie until you had your treat.

The line stepped forward.

You followed suit.

He was there.

He was watching.

He was your safety net.

You would see him the moment you were successful.

You could do this on your own.

You didn’t need an obvious guiding light.

It was always hanging there above.

Supposedly cold, but in actuality made of overflowing warmth.

Another step and you were next in line.

The men running the stand laughed between themselves.

You had a sense that they were putting on a display to make the most of their time.

You decided the laws regarding food carts in this city were silly.

Everyone was just doing their best to make it.

It was your turn.

You ordered two with a punctuated peace sign and the man taking your order beamed you a smile for it. He passed something off to the other guy glazing the dough and you watched as there was a flourish of sugar crystals. You were then passed a folded wad of paper with two sticky treats folded inside. Translating your thanks first with your gaze then your wallet, you turned and felt invincible as you headed toward Donnie.

He had a casual lean to his stance and offered you a slow clap as you approached.

“I did it.” You spoke highly.

“You did.” He agreed with a similar sweetness to what was in your hand. “Now tell me what jalebi is.”

You chuckled and unfurled your pack to walk and talk. You told him what you knew and the travel videos you watched. You admitted your guilty pleasure of having them on in the background along with cooking videos. Donnie related that to you getting along with Mikey and you dispelled the notion. Sharing with him your concerns of inadequacy, you took your first bite and had to stop. It was an intense burst of flavor. Pricked with happy tears, you took a few more bites and skipped to catch up to Donnie.

He almost timidly asked about his portion. You split the two you had and fumbled an apology as you gave him one. He took it by steadying your hand and you felt heated when he pulled away. You buried your flush into fried dough and he probed you about what other street foods you wanted to try. It became a steady back and forth that morphed as you walked. You felt like you had gone a great distance as your current topic of discussion was what TV universe you were each best suited to survive in.

“Ah, to fight alongside Atomic Lass…” Donnie mooned.

You drank in his cuteness like a fine wine.

“Oh.” He said suddenly and stopped.

You missed the cue and made it a few more steps before turning back. “What?”

“We’re here.” He was looking up at your apartment.

“O-oh…” You hadn’t noticed.

His pupil darted for a moment before he swept it up to you. “I have become a big enough mutant to admit when I am wrong: I was wrong about dumplings. They are truly a wide spanning dish that is worthy of a dedicated market.”

You smiled and shifted side to side in an obvious way that you were eating up his admittance.

“Yes, yes.” He let you have it with an eye roll. “Thank you.”

You shook your head. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Yes.” He stepped closer. “You could have.”

Hug.

You were overcome with the desire to hug him.

You wanted your hug from earlier.

Was that alright?

You suddenly weren’t sure.

You wanted to wipe your hands.

You knew they weren’t sticky because you’d been careful, but you didn’t want to chance making him uncomfortable.

A handshake.

Was that a normal goodbye?

How did you sum up your gratitude?

“I’m proud of you.” He said.

Your heart could have exploded out of your chest and you would have been none the wiser.

“I hadn’t brought attention to each and every victory as that is not my style of learning, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t give you overall praise. You did wonderfully tonight and your progress is phenomenal. Good job.”

You reached for him at an aching pace.

You had to touch him.

You had to.

He met you with a flowing lift of his arms.

You used them as obvious leverage as your face drew close to his chest.

He moved in for the motion of a hug and his arms tucked behind you.

You ghosted up his limbs on a trek for his neck.

He dipped close ready to slot your bodies together.

You caught your hands behind his head, brushing his mask tails in the process, before you used your locked digits to pull him flush to you.

He came easily and trended toward the side to tuck his cheek beside yours.

You wove your head, interrupting his course, and gave him a single lashed look.

You perceived desire off him and you leaned in just shy of kissing into him.

His beak wrinkled with a squiggly grin and his lids swung shit as he closed the distance.

In a near instant shift, you deepened the lip lock.

You missed this.

Monumentally so.

His sweetness was enhanced by the treat on his tongue.

You needed more.

You weren’t going to waste a second.

You released your hands to instead coil your arms around his neck.

It bumped you apart where he tugged you back in a needy press.

Kissing once for each month since your last, you were forced to part only because you required oxygen.

Don’t apologize. “I couldn’t help it…”

“Good.” He spoke heat.

You kissed one more time to grow on before he shifted his grip.

He hugged you tightly.

He squeezed until it was almost too much before he lifted you off the ground and joy brought him to spin you.

“Finally!” He raved.

You were both giggling as he set you back down and peppered you with an assault of kisses. “Donnie!”

“See me again. Planetarium. Let’s do your list.” He told you with a fire in his eye. “Together.”

How could you deny that? “And that restaurant?”

“Dinner and a show. That will be our proper date.”

“Because this…?” You flushed off to the side.

“I don’t care for retroactive naming.” He squeezed your attention back. “I’m looking forward. I’m asking you out now, right now.”

“I accept…” You told him.

“You accept.” He repeated to cement the words.

“Yes.” You kissed his cheek. “Yes!” He hoisted you up and you only made it back inside when the jeers from passersby became too embarrassing.

💛 NEXT 💛

I'm currently on vacation so maybe my poor overworked betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 get a break too

#sunshinemoonshinefic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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blueflipflops · 2 years ago

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Blessed is The Fruit of Thy Womb III

Chapter 3: Then God Asked Cain,"Where is Abel, your brother?"

First Chapter | Prev | Next

Inspired by @cyrwrites 's prompt of Talia being pregnant from exposure to the Lazarus Pits.

...

" Tt. How should I know? I'm not his keeper."

"Dami you just implied that you have a younger brother still in the hands of the League."

The Robin clicked his tongue again, frustration and familliar irrational anger building up inside him.

"It doesn't matter."

"Dami—"

"It. doesn't. matter."

Dick furrowed his eyebrows in concern as Damian quickens his pace towards the elevator, not wanting to continue the conversation.

When Damian first arrived he was angry, eager to prove his worth and word. It seemed that whatever Talia told him, didnt include Bruce having other sons than him. So finding out about this from not even the highly praised father he has, he had to be told of this by said not known brother.

He demanded Batman.

But there is no Batman. Bruce was dead declared missing for more than months now without any contact or notice. Dick has been relunctantly picking up the slack while juggling his own responsibilities as Nightwing back in Bludhaven. Its been a hard time and believe him, he has juggled before. Both literally and figuratively

When he tried to offer the robin mantle to him as maybe to calm him down a bit, he just got angrier and snippy. He rejected the offer but demanded to be trained for the whole duration of his 'stay'.

"I was sent here to be trained by batman and I won't leave until I finish my goal. If it has to be from batman's...successor then so be it."

Okay, that kinda hurt. He doesn't want to be Batman either y'know.

That was what he claimed as he strolled up jnto the mansion like he owned the place. Ever since then, Dick has organized a somewhat schedule for trainings that he deliberately stretched out at first to test him. Which is. Um. Wrong move. This only serves to piss him off more and more prone to lethal attacks.

Yeah. Okay. That attitude needs a little work.

He tried to rudely order around Alfred the first few days and just got more frustrated and angry when Dick scolded him for it. The kid doesn't even want to eat with them even if they lived together (although that might be stretching it a bit since Dick doesn't even live in the manor anymore.) He still try to include Damian in his activities with Tim (who doesn't seem to concern himself too much about the addition. Too occupied in proving that Bruce is still a-alive. ) , to get him out of his shell and maybe talk about what exactly is Talia thinking and what the actual fuck is going on with the LOA. With all the bull happening around with B's death and Tim's insitence on his non-death then him suddenly disappearing to who knows where and everything else the world decided to pile up on him recently.

Fuck. He's so not paid enough for this. In fact, he's not getting paid at all.

And that was 3 years ago, Tim came back with a clusterfuck of a report and possibly a few ill-advised stuff that he's turning a blind eye on. For now.

Tim brought back Bruce, (which is a whole other cans of worms Dick won't open. He will tho. He will. He will process this shit. Just not today. Nope.) declared that he has outgrown Robin, that he's trying his hand on a solo act and after a little help, Cardinal flew in the streets of Gotham. Dick is proud of his brother spreading his wings and leaving the nest but this leaves Damian with Bruce. While Bruce is still recovering, a new Robin picks up the slack. Dick and Damian were a team and the kid was so desperate to prove himself worthy of the mantle that he has been streching himself as thin as Dick lets him and while he follows orders, he's quick to taking advantage of all and any loopholes. If it weren't making his job 10x harder, he would've been amused of such a Robin Move. In all of those years, they grew close to each other, the kid even respects Tim now!

So when Damian mentioned—no, implied that he has another brother still back in LOA, no one can blame Dick for being blindsided.

"Dami. What brother?" He chased after the short feral child.

"Tch. I don't see how that's any of your business, Grayson." He gave him a derisive look as he pushed the button to lift back to the manor. "Your only use here is to instruct and teach me as is your responsibility as Father's succesor not meddle in my personal life. After Father has recovered, he shall continue my training and things would go as it should be." He gave Dick one last sneer before the door closed and a faint hum echoes out in the cave along with what he said.

A brother?!?!

...

When Tim first met Damian Al Ghul Wayne, the demon brat tried to kill him. Which is. Just how his life is now, he guess. The kid was 4"6 beansprout with a sword and is not afraid to use it. Apparently, he tried to stab Dick the first time too. The kid is clearly delusional but after several blood tests Tim has had to admit defeat.

This brat really is B's kid and he hates him already.

This could be a plot.

Ra's would do anything to gain power over Batman and Gotham but mostly Batman.

It smells like a plot.

Dick couldn't get anything out of him other than that he was 'the Blood Son of Batman' and that he was sent here for Bat Training by Talia and he's not leaving. He also said something about his birthright to being the next Batman and being his robin. Which is. Yeah. Hurts a bit. He knows he hasn't been able to be Dick's Robin (oh the combination of those words) being too busy proving that Bruce is still alive. He knows it. But he's still Robin.

He's still Dick's Robin and Dick is not going to give the mantle away just because demon brat here throws a temper tantrum about it. But he did. Well, he didn't exactly but. He offered making Damian his robin. Tim knows logically, this would be the best plan of action given everything with them and then everything with him but he still can't help the sharp insecurity inside him.

But the brat did something surprising, given his whole rant of birthright blah blah blah. Tim wasn't really listening. He looked at Tim with such disgust and derisiveness and then looked away with a click of his tongue. Which is so uncalled for what the hell??? What the fuck did he do? The Batling even had the gall to look so offended for even offered the position he claims was always his. What the fuck.

He says he doesn't want a position already claimed by somebody else and suggested to create a new identity if he has to. Dick was quick to veto that. Thank god. The kid looks like a ten year old. A ten year old from hell, yeah but still. Even Tim was at least thirteen when he started the whole gig. It might not seem like a lot but three years is a BIG difference. Assassin training from birth or not.

The kid looked at Tim with pity and disgust that he doesn't even know why... well whatever but for some reason despite the hostility, the kid would not so subtly support him. Not that anyone else would notice if they weren't a bat, but the kid kinda grew on Tim despite his own attempts not to. And while Tim isn't Dick, he would like to think that they've grown on him too.

After returning with Bruce, a new vigilante identity, and one less spleen, Damian has finally and officially took over the Robin mantle. Despite the initial denial, he was quick to adapt into the role with a hidden child-like enthusiasm. Well. For an assassin raised kid in a role that allows him to beat up grown people in the streets every night. Thank god Dick has already given the kid numerous lectures on the "no killing" rule because Tim is so not doing that.

And no, he is not processing his little LOA escapade.

Although looking back at it, it seems a lot more suspicious with how Ra's was a lot more confident and smug. More... reckless yet defensive.

Of what exactly?

That question has been eating Tim up ever since he had a better headspace for it coming back and it has been driving him crazy. No matter what angle he mentally review everything that happened, Tim still can't for the life of him tell what exactly was Ra's hiding. No matter the connections nor channels he has gave anything away other than the fact that they've been training an heir but Tim already knew that with Damian in the picture and yet...

Something's missing...

When they found out that Red Hood was actually the deceased Jason Todd aka Robin II, Tim thought that was it. That was what was missing and try to bury it along with the annoyance, a bit of resentment, and his many broken bones as a result of that little... reunion of theirs.

Like seriously? An adult robin suit? Cringe, mr. Robin sir. Tim can't believe he idolized you. If it wasnt for the fact that Jason broke his jaw, he would've said something about how if he's gonna kill him wearing the robin suit then the least he could do is not be a coward and wear the original scaly panties. It's like as if nothing is sacred in this world anymore. Really.

After a while, Hood started working with... well not with them. But uh... adjacent might be a better term for it. Tim notices when Jason is strangely quick to startle when Damian is in the picture. It's only recently that Dick was able to convince him to switch to non lethal rubber bullets but before they had to dodge a ricochet of actual real bullets when Damian is near Jason. And the self proclaimed ex-crime lord won't even explain why he reacts to the shortstack like this. Very rude. It's like getting beaten to near death doesn't even have benefits or whatever.

It wasn't until another case that involves the reluctant team up between Cardinal, Red Hood and a likely not supposed to be here Robin, that Tim got a clue as to why. As usual, Hood somehow does not notice Robin and almost shot Tim. Again. For the fifth time this night. Jason said something about a pit demon or something fucking up something something. I'm sure this will all make sense tomorrow. But then Robin snaps back, geniunely offended. Something about how he's not a...

"A fucking what?!"

"Tt. A Lazarus Pit baby, Cardinal. Do keep up."

"Wait hold the fuck up. Hold the motherfucking fuck up. What the fuck do you mean your brother is a Lazarus Pit baby?"

At least Tim wasn't the only one getting a rug pulled under their feet tonight. A bit concerning how distressed Hood was sounding but Tim is flexible. He can handle this. Before he can ask many reasonable questions, Robin turned to glare at them. Impressive how a kid as short as him make Tim feel like he's being look down on when the brat has to crane his neck up high just to see their faces.

"Hood called me a pit demon. Which I am not."

Damn. Touchy. So he's got opinions on pit demons now. What even are pit demons? It certainly doesn't sound good. "

"Hood has trained with the League for a time, did he not? So he must have confused me for my... younger brother."

"The fuck are on about? I couldn't be more obvious that I'm talking to you."

"Wait. What brother?!"

"Robin what brother?!?!"

....

My parents made me subscribe to christianity just so I can make fic titles like these

Damian + fam POV of Child of Lazarus Danny AU

A whole ass POV and setting change can be a bit disorienting especially with a time skip mixed in but at this point we moved away from the creepy cult and into a somewhat normal outside world. Damian has a slightly better relationship with his brother here at the same time a lot more distant than canon. Damian has been able to establish himself as Robin a bit later than canon and Tim was able to decide for himself to hand over the mantle and step out of the Robin training wheels. Didn't like the Red Robin name sorry its just as if Tim wasnt ready to part with robin just yet and hadn't had the time to find himself before making Red Robin. A bit of a fan of the Cardinal name for my boy which is also red.

Funny how Dami subconsiously called Danny a pit demon all these years when all his other brothers subconsiously called him that too. He's so offended its hilarious lmaoo

Also funny how Tim thinks about his relationship with Jason. For me I think Tim won't sink back in fear Jason cuz in the comics man Tim has been roasting the dude any chance gets like Jason hasn't been roasted enough. Love my cringefail asshole Jason. Would've love to punch him in the face.

This was supposed to have Jason and Bruce's POV too but it was getting too long. so. Yeah.

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Them Tags:

Btw y'all should probably just follow the Child of Lazarus!Danny tag

@emergentpanda-blog @skulld3mort-1fan @rosecinnamonbun @ver-444 @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @dannyphantomphan @yasminerd00 @blep-23 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @vythika96 @terzatheunderscorerima @ballzfrog-blog @readerzj @overtherose @undead-essence @justwannabecat @fisticuffsatapplebees @satoshy12 @thegatorsgoose @meira-3919 @mynameisnotlaura @gmkelz11 @chrysanthemum9484 @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @rasalghul777 @writers-extraordinaire @u-a-wizard-jamie

#dpxdc #Child of Lazarus!Danny #damian to danny: stinky. stinky demon baby #danny: 🥺#batfam to damian: stinky. stinky demon baby #damian: *shocked pikachu face*#dp x dc #dc x dp

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swannieluv · 8 months ago

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Help with studies

pairing: Platonic!Tighnari x GN!Reader – wc: 900 – tw: peeling the skin off your lips, academic pressure – a/n: This is more of a personal thing I wrote. But I hope it can comfort someone who goes through the same thing <3. Sorry for any grammar mistakes </3– likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!!

Studying is hard, and it gets even harder when you don't know how to study in the first place. Being a good student throughout your whole life was somewhat… easy? You thought it was just the fruits of you paying attention to classes, but it wasn't exactly like that. Sometimes you would write, read the contents before the lecture even started, doodle on the desk, or think of whatever scenarios appeared in your mind.

With the textbook, full of images and descriptions written in a bold black font, open in front of you, desperation started growing. Why wasn't your brain just understanding the texts previously highlighted during class? You were sure you had understood everything when learning, yet it was like knowledge had disappeared from your mind.

You just kept staring absentmindedly at the page, as if nothing around you was happening. It was just a few minutes later that your state was interrupted by a voice calling for you: the familiar voice of Tighnari, one of the few you can call friend — though you're both often mistaken for siblings, for being often seen together.

“[Name]?” He was holding a pot with a small plant. That's right, you had asked him for a decoration for your desk, perhaps a change of air would help.

There were not so rare occasions in which you had to ask for his help. Tighnari’s way of explaining stuff was direct and left no space left for doubts, plus he always added extra information you missed during study sessions.

He left the plant next to a pile of notebooks before opening your curtains. “Look. I'm not a specialist, but I can't help but notice your troubled expression these days.”

You lost track of how many hours had been spent doing absolutely nothing. But the sunset was enough to remind you of the fact that nothing productive had been done and you were doomed.

“I don't know anymore, everything feels so… strange. I'm intelligent, right?” Tears gathered in your eyes before you looked up at him. “Please tell me I am or else I don't know what to do?”

Intelligence had been associated with you ever since childhood. It started by wanting to show off, talking about complicated things such as atoms, stars, and every other information you could reach. Then, getting medals and certificates for getting good grades.

Everyone talked about how good of a child you were, about how far you would go in the future. It felt wonderful looking at your twisted reflection on the back of the medals, as your parents patted the top of your head and praised your achievements, hanging it on the wall to show.

But as you grew up, the compliments stopped. Your success was predicted and there wasn't anything new in the golden painted medals of cold iron, now forgotten in the back of the drawer. Before you knew it, the habit of peeling the skin off your lips and the twist of your stomach had become your companions during tests.

As you joined the Akademiya, things suddenly changed. It was during the first year when you got the first bad grade ever, nothing too low, but not enough to be the best. Then, you cheated on a test for the first time and felt terrible.

It was during that time that you met Tighnari. He was paying the Akademiya a small visit when his ears caught on the sound of muffled crying, leading him to your hiding spot.

That was how you met Tighnari, being comforted by him as you cried in front of someone else for the first time. And for some reason, the two of you started bumping into each other too often.

“I know you want to be the best. But remember, you're a human being and just like everyone, you're prone to making mistakes every now and then.” He had a gentle smile on his face, before asking for permission to pat your head, which you gave.

“It's just… it's not only because of what the others will think, but also because I don't want to disappoint myself.” Your answer made your eyes tear up a little, alongside the beginning of a running nose that made you try to suppress those feelings back.

Tighnari took your hand, preventing you from wiping away those tears. “It's not healthy to keep it to yourself so… cry if you feel like doing so. I don't see anyone here who would judge you.”

And so, you cried. There was no other way to show your feelings, as the words you wanted to say never made their way out of your chest. But Tighnari didn't care if you told him everything or not, just wanting to comfort someone he can relate to.

Perhaps Tighnari didn't get along with you only out of sympathy, but because he did see his younger, overachiever, self in you. He didn't want you to go through the many frustations reserved on your way alone. And he knew that it was difficult to open up for anyone when being smart was one of the best qualities someone could have. But everything had a downside.

“Tell me what you need to understand, and I'll help you.” He kneeled and picked up a book on the ground, opening its pages to take a look before handing it to you. “It may not be exactly my field of knowledge but—”

“Tighnari,” you interrupted him with a tired, yet grateful, grin on your face. “Thank you.”

A sigh escaped from his lips before he reciprocated your smile. Things were difficult, but Tighnari would help you to at least get a decent grade; and what if you didn't? After all, a number can't define who you are or your potential.

#swanniesarchive <3 #genshin fic #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #tighnari #tighnari x reader #platonic genshin x reader #genshin platonic

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actual-changeling · 8 months ago

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i thought about the end scene of 'beyond the sea' too many times and this is the result. mulder is so soft with her for the entirety of the episode, and it drives me insane.

first ficlet i've ever written for these two, so hopefully i got their voices right.

—

Mulder's hand against her arm is warm and comfortably heavy, a tether keeping her close enough to the ground to not drift away like she's been prone to do for the last few days. When her eyes flutter shut on their own accord, Scully doesn't fight it, all too aware of the hours of sleep she hasn't been getting.

Between fragmented nightmares about her father and the feeling of blood under her fingernails—Mulder's, dried and darkened no matter how hard she scrubbed—the last time she got more than twenty minutes at a time was before she saw her father's ghost in the flickering television light. The regular beeping of the machines echoing through the hospital room calms her somewhat; they're familiar sounds, no matter how far from medical school she might have ended up.

"Maybe you should head home, get some rest," Mulder suggests softly after an extended period of amicable silence, slightly squeezing her shoulder before reclaiming his hand. Her fingers twitch against the sheets as she fights the urge to chase after him, her body suddenly oddly cold. When she opens her eyes again, she catches him staring at her with concern clouding his gaze.

"I'm fine."

It's a reflexive answer, a lie she keeps telling even though they are both aware she's everything but.

"I know," he replies, smoothing his palm down her arm until he can gently take her hand, and the chill disappears as quickly as it has arrived. "The last couple of days have just been a lot, and you deserve a break."

The noise is out of her mouth before she can stop it—something between a dismissal and a sob, tinged with bone-deep exhaustion. Even if she were to go back to an apartment full of Christmas decorations and unwanted quietude, she wouldn't be able to get any rest at all; not with guilt sitting on the bottom of her lungs and fear poisoning her breaths.

Scully tightens her grasp on his hand and turns to watch his heartbeat weave its way across the monitor. Alive, it whispers, over and over and over.

Alivealivealive, and no thanks to her.

She thought about it a few times, only when the darkness seemed entirely ubiquitous and the sleep deprivation spun webs across her ceiling, if maybe her choice to join the FBI, to go against her father's wishes, to put her life on the line while the distance between them grew—if all the stress she caused him somehow made her responsible for his death.

No matter what she tries to tell herself, her father will still be dead, and Mulder will still be injured because she allowed him to run off alone despite Bogg's warnings. She had known without wanting to that he was going to get hurt, and yet. Always too little, too late.

"…Dana."

A tug on her arm rips her back out of her mind, and the worry carved deep into Mulder's face tells her that he has been trying to get her attention for longer than she can simply shrug off; she attempts to smile anyway and fails miserably.

"Whatever it is you're blaming yourself for, you're wrong."

"Mulder—"

He releases her hand in favour of cupping her cheek exactly as he had days ago in their office, and she relaxes into it without wanting to, the touch warm and comforting.

"If you don't want to go home, at least close your eyes for a little," he smiles for the two of them, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. Whatever protest she was about to utter dies on her tongue, so she simply nods. Mulder pulls back slightly to invitingly lift his arm, and for once, Scully doesn't even pretend to need time to consider it.

God, she is beyond tired.

She toes off her shoes and lies down on the scratchy hospital sheets, conscious of his injury as she carefully fits herself against his side. With her cheek resting on his chest and one palm above his heart, Scully closes her eyes and enjoys the comfort of Mulder holding her like she is doing him a favour.

His fingers trace slow patterns up and down her back, and when she feels him press his lips to her hair, she inches impossibly closer in silent thanks.

The day bleeds from her limbs, and little by little, the tension in her aching muscles dissipates until only exhaustion and a familiar sense of safety remain. For the very first time since waking to see her father's ghost in her living room, sleep comes easily and remains completely dreamless.

Mulder keeps her wrapped in his embrace and rests easier than he has in years.

#alex writes x files #the x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #msr #txf #msr fanfic

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bunni-v1 · 1 year ago

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CONGRATS FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! 💫💫 can i request letters A, B, O, P, Q, S and Y of the sfw list for Malleus and Vil? But in a platonic way, as friendship, if you can<3

🍓I've had this one sitting in my inbox for a while because I've just not been in the mood to write for Malleus. He's a special flavor of autistic that I can only write when the inspiration strikes lol.

Malleus

A - Affection: Malleus is VERY affectionate! He's been loved on a lot by Lilia, so I wouldn't say he's touch-starved, but he does act like he is. He always wants to be holding you in some way, and if you are in his vicinity he will come and find you just to be near you. Always greets you with a hug and a kiss, regardless of who is around or where you're at. Worst of all, he gets pouty and throws a Malleus brand temper tantrum if you deny him any affection.

B - Best Friend: It's really weird to be best friends with Malleus. You sorta found him somewhere on accident, spoke with him, and gained yourself a dragon. You don't ever see him in any place that is conventional or normal, and you rarely actually "hang out" with him. When you do see him, though, he's prone to have these really deep interesting conversations with you and then disappear. Quite freaky.

O - Open: It doesn't occur to Malleus that, maybe, he doesn't need to tell you his whole life story at random times of the day. I mean, seriously, you guys will be doing something like study, and then he'll drop that fattest lore bomb known to man and leave you speechless.

P - Patience: Not very. In fact, most things that would piss other people off just tend to make him laugh. He's essentially a god amongst men with an ego to match, and that ego is anything BUT fragile. It's hard to make him mad. You can upset him and make him out, but anger is rare and SCARY.

Q - Quizzes: He's both really good and very bad. Malleus both has some much going on in his head and absolutely nothing. He remembers important dates, and all of your favorite things, but when it comes to like pulling through on important stuff? He sucks! He forgets! He feels so bad after too, like on his knees begging for forgiveness. Then, at the same time, he'll remember something really obscure that you mentioned in passing and it makes you wonder how the hell his mind works.

S - Security: Oh, Malleus is the MOST protective out of anyone in the twst cast. He's a dragon, after all, and they're mostly known for protecting things. You are his most prized and adored treasure, and he protects you as such. I'm talking like, he's always by your side, always watching you, always ready to jump at the chance to show you how amazing and powerful he is. Now, he never gets the chance because who in their right mind would ever upset THE Malleus Draconia, but he still keeps hoping.

Y - Yuck: He hates it when his title is held over his head. He wants friends and connections and love, but his crown gets in the way. If you ever try to use him for his power that would be an instant no from him, especially if he thought you loved him for more than just his position.

Vil

A - Affection: Vil is like... moderately affectionate. Now, he's not exactly the sweetest person. Vil is all about appearances, and hanging off in public doesn't exactly look good. In private, though? He's making up for the missed affection tenfold. Now he's not a huge cuddler, but he is a kisser. And kiss you he does, everywhere. He's so pleased with the bright red lipstick marks all over your face. On top of that, he pampers you like a princess. Massages, face masks, sweets and tea. Only the best for his darling.

B - Best Friend: Vil just decides that you're friends, and then you're stuck with him. It's really not bad though! He's quite a gossip, so you hear all the latest drama around the halls of NRC. You get free makeovers and get to relax around Pomefiore whenever you want. Most importantly, your social status rises to the top, because any friend of Vil's could be a friend worth having.

O - Open: Vil? Open? Please. He's got walls up greater than the wall of China. It takes him a lot of time to open up to you because all of those stupid emotions he's feeling make him so weak. Once you get the first bit of Vil lore, though, he's like a running faucet and just spills everything everywhere. It really makes you both grow so much closer though.

P - Patience: Eh. He's not awful, better than Riddle at least. Vil does have a temper though, and it's not as uncommon to see it as you may think. Now, he rarely ever gets mad at you unless you do something so stupid that he can't help it in his disbelief. Still, his anger is a sight to witness, and much worse when it's directed at you.

Q - Quizzes: Vil is very good at knowing everything there is to know about you. He writes it down, actually! In his notes app! He has a whole list that's just about you and your likes and dislikes and everything you tell him that he thinks is important. He makes sure to utilize it all the time, and it's really sweet how seen he makes you feel.

S - Security: Vil is moderately protective of you. He doesn't really worry about anyone in your classes, it's rare to find someone actually willing to mess with him. What he is worried about is the media. If they got ahold of you, his more intense fans might try to rip you apart. So, he shields you from that as best as he can, because he doesn't want to see you hurt.

Y - Yuck: If you only want him for his beauty. He is pretty, he knows that, and he understands that it's likely a part of why you love him. However, if you only seem to care about how pretty he is or only compliment his looks, he hates it. There is more to him, why can't you see that?

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit

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nocturnesmoon · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

Wordcount: 6.8k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious trauma, PTSD, Hallucinations, Paranoia, Anxiety, Disturbing Themes, let me know if i missed anything

Description: You ran from it all for a reason, it's easier to disappear when everyone thinks you're dead, but what happens when someone wants to bring you dangerously close to your past, the one you've been trying to run from for so long?

A/N: Trying to not panic over the fact i'm finally releasing this- Hope you enjoy it!!

[Next Chapter]

Through all your problems in life, your most prominent ones always seem to have a connection between the weather, and unnecessary questions. Since the dawn of time people have had this annoying notion of being very nosy.

There aren’t many places in the world you've been to where it's different. They can deny it all they want, it's all the same no matter where you go. Simultaneously the weather has never quite agreed with you. It makes your nonstop travel tedious, a draining task that often takes more time than you'd like it to.

Even here, with the amount of time it took you to get here in the first place because of the weather. It's an ironic turn when only a few days after your arrival, the sun turns the concrete into a fire from hell. A stark contrast to the storms and rain, that kept your flight delayed, again and again.

The heat makes you want to never leave that little flower shop, with the big fan in the corner. If it wasn't for the sharp floral smell, and the continuous buzzing of the thing, you could even have considered working here. It's not prone to traffic of many people, and those who are here are usually in a hurry, so they don't engage you in too much meaningless chatter, while you would work.

Unfortunately, you rarely have that luxury, every turn and twist in your day-to-day life, threatening you with the underlying feeling of being caught, of being known.

A loud sound erupts from the back, when the old man drops a pair of scissors. Children squeal outside the shop, as soon as the ball goes into the hoop placed above the window. It's a disaster waiting to happen. However, it kept the children happy and busy, in the early hours of the morning, when there was nothing to do yet, and the heat wasn't high enough to spoil their activity.

The quiet sound of snips continues soon after, the man continuously giving you odd looks from your request. You don't pay it any mind. Your hands nervously clutch at your wallet, the ache in your knuckles barely noticeable anymore.

One of the kids outside pick up the ball again, launching it at the hoop but missing by an inch. The ball bounces back, and you realize it before you see it. The silence between the kids is almost comical, the squealing and happy yelling gone within an instant.

A little streak of crimson runs down from the kid's cheek, the bruise already forming with unnatural colors. The other kids flock around them, fuzzing about with caring tones and careful touches. One of the older ones finds a rag to gently dab away the blood.

You wonder if it would still be warm to the touch, metallic in taste, an awful sign of life.

The kid's eyes keep staring ahead, through the window. You could pretend that they're looking at the pretty flowers, but you hold their eye contact with purpose. They look defeated in their shock, too big of a reaction for a little accident in your flawed opinion.

You could've stopped them, prevented it before it happened, they wouldn't have gotten hurt.

They continue to stare you down, a frown settled on their lips. Do they really think that you could've stopped them. The kids would've laughed at you at best. The eyes multiply tenfold when the other kids notice the injured one's staring. You keep it up, not backing down despite the uncomfortable feeling of too much attention on you. You've been too exposed today.

You've had eyes in the back of your neck ever since you left your room this morning. Not the usual way either, this time it's been from an unknown source.

You don't miss the man leaned up against the wall to a clothing boutique. His hood raised up, his lips moving to speak every now and then. He's doing a good job at pretending to watch the kids have fun and play.

The old man clears his throat. He's already arranged the flowers beautifully, they now rest on the counter, waiting for you to pay up.

You put down your payment in coins, ignore his grumbling in favor of grabbing the flowers and getting out of there in a hurry.

The café has been your only place of respite. A quaint little space you found when you first came to this place. It sits open to the streets, while still managing to feel packed away. Behind those old curtains, and dainty accessories adorning yellowish walls, is the best coffee you've had in years.

Ding

A pleasant little sound fills your ears every time you open the door, and step down in the lowlight place. As much as you liked it, every time you were here, you'd be fighting your instincts to make the sound again and again and again. Your own mental oblivion urging you forward.

Coffee is already placed on your table. Steam rising from the little blue cup, the one with a chipped side, unofficially assigned to you. The little corner is always free when you come in. There was always the question of whether the little spot was unpopular, or if there were other external factors for its lack of use.

It was hard to tell, by the already general lack of customers and patrons, but the little seat was always there for you.

Confined in your own little corner, you would spend the mornings of the past month sipping coffee, and looking like you belonged in a prison cell. With the amount of paranoia your posture exuded, it's impossible to not think you had something going on.

Luck has a tendency not to follow you in places like these, so you refrain from interacting too much with anything. It leaves you looking a bit like a social reject, but you comfort yourself in the knowledge that in a month, none of these people will see your face again.

At least people don't ask questions here.

You walk over to the counter and place the bouquet of spider lilies down next to the registry. Being careful not to disturb the beautiful order the nice old man had put them in. Your eyes linger for but a moment.

A meek old woman owns the place. Elena. She took a quick liking to you the first you arrived here a few weeks ago. She seemed to understand you in an underlying way, she never asked you the hard questions, she accepted your secrecy in a way only a mother who's seen the worst can do. It freaks you out.

You still feel bad about lying to her.

Had she been someone else, you might've been more inclined. To let the woman know who -what- you really are, would only put her in more harm’s way than necessary. That would even be before she could get a chance to hate you, for the things you've done to stay alive.

The wood protests when you settle into the chair. You pull back on the urge to wiggle in it. The old woman was nowhere to be seen, but the little rustle of pots and pans in the back gave you clear indication of where she is. There's always the fresh smell of newly baked pastries in the mornings, just before everyone wakes up for their daily hustles.

Not many people would come this early, making it a regular occurrence for you to spend that time here. Little hole in the wall only really served the continuing patrons, most others took to the more populated places.

A flash of light shines through the thin curtains, illuminating the dust swirling around in the air, as well as the colorful pillows carefully placed in each chair. They felt out of place to everything else in here. Newer. You quickly learnt a lot of things about the mentality of the people living here, you had to if you intended to blend in inconspicuously. Something you found out the hard way, was that the old woman tended to take things personally.

It didn't matter how much you meant it positively, negatively, no meaning at all. One little comment a faint evening, and the next day the pillows were all replaced.

You squint your eyes from the raging orange and put your focus back on the coffee. It's no longer steaming as much as before. You hadn't originally picked this place because it would provide you cover. In all fairness, if the place wasn't as cozy on the inside, it would likely be shady enough to be conspicuous, from the odd looking outside alone.

Yet still, it serves as your little paradise.

You find your brain goes quiet when you're in here. You can sip your coffee in peace, unaware of the shadows creeping in the corners of your eyes. It's numbing. Your little respite away from the danger outside, the danger within, and with Elena's nurturing soul, it makes you not want to leave.

Ding

Unfortunately, fate has a funny little tendency to give you the middle finger. It has never been on your side, and you doubt it is ever going to be.

Your little paradise is about to be invaded. With lingering smells of gunpowder, and blood so thick it will stain your soul. Patches of blonde and black hair, one making its way to your corner, and the other stationary at the door.

You take a sip of your coffee. It tastes wrong.

The blonde woman pulls out the chair opposite of you. She takes a moment to get comfortable before leaning in, her arms neatly folded on the table. She's playing on your domesticity, your familiarity, you know her too well to expect anything else. You don't doubt if you were look up, you'll see those blue eyes full of desperation, ready to ask you to move heaven and hell for her.

She's a few years too late.

Much to your surprise she keeps quiet when you take another sip. How kind of her. It doesn't last long. As soon as you put the chipped cup down, and acknowledge her, she opens her mouth to speak.

"No" you intercept her.

She closes her mouth, opens it, closes it. "You haven't even heard what I have to say," a small smile plays on her lips. It seems innocent enough. You know her better. She has blood on her hands, the same way you have blood on your teeth.

"The answer is no."

"I wouldn't come to you if it wasn't serious," her folded hands tighten, "You know that." She's honorable, as far as you know, but you're not ready to get back into your harness, so she can pull on your collar.

The next sip burns your tongue. You bite down on it, choke the yelp deep down in your throat. "Laswell..." you speak her name with urgency. The quicker you can shut her up and get her to leave, the quicker you can get back to making your plan to move.

"I need you to just hear me out alright?" she pauses, "it's in your best interest."

She's not letting you leave this place unless you agree.

Your eyes dart over to the man standing at the entrance. There's more than one way to get out of here, the one he is blocking is the least convenient. But you suppose you do owe it to Laswell to hear her out.

If you narrow it all down to the dirt and bones, she is the only reason why you're sitting in this café alive, while remaining dead to the world.

Your would-be grave is far from here. Dug and scraped with your own charred hands and broken nails.

Crack crack, bury the sin beneath blood and bone.

You can still hear it when you unfocus your brain, they won't let you forget.

"It's him, he's back" the words soil your throat, and they didn't even come from your own lips. "He's brought his group back along with him, and they're causing a bigger disturbance," It's sickening that she's even bringing this up.

She continues despite your grimace, "I would have pulled out every other resource I could before coming here, but you're the only person I can rely on to see this through."

She wants you to go back.

Go back, Go back, Go back.

"You're the only one I know that has both skill and cause."

Your eyebrow twitches, and you bite down on your tongue to not retaliate. You can taste the metal before you relent. The last thing you want to do is cause a scene in here.

The old woman doesn't deserve this.

"I understand your apprehension to this, but you know how important it is that we put a stop to him, you should want this more than anyone else."

The chair screeches as you push yourself to your feet. Your palms connect with the table, and it in turn rattles. The man who was standing stationary at the door breaks form. He reaches behind him, and let's his hand settle on something.

Not that you thought she would come here unarmed.

Laswell calls your name, bringing your attention back to her. She's a lot calmer than her jumpy backup. "It's just a talk, nothing more for now," it's all lies is what is.

"Bring attack dogs to all your family meetings?" you don't settle back into the chair. You were done with this place the moment Laswell and her soldier set foot in it.

She spares a single glance back at her friend, something reassuring in her face, it makes him ease back up to form. "Fine, there's no going around it with you," she wants it to all be lighthearted, to ease you in, you won't fall for it again.

"I am cashing in the favor, you'll be properly paid of course, and you can settle a score, does it really sound that bad?"

"Yes."

You stare into her blue eyes. She smells faintly of smoke. Her eyes won't leave you, but you see the contemplation in them, the searching of your figure. She's looking for the right bait, looking for the best way to sink her hooks into your ribs and drag you along.

"I don't want to have to do this to you..." her voice is quieter. It almost surprises you, but you know what she's talking about. She's in a bind herself.

She's not going to wait forever for you to say yes, and she needs you. On paper you are the perfect candidate for whatever she has planned. Though you doubt your mental profile lives up to the required standards. Certain things can be overlooked in desperation, you suppose.

"I'll hear you out," you start "somewhere else." The determination in her eyes border hope. It's pitiful that she thinks you'll have so much influence on her mission. You're really not all that.

You have the basic training, but also enough history to disqualify you, from any position within the military ever again. Laswell let's out a sigh of relief. Was she really that worried?

"Everything alright petal?" your eyes snap to Elena, a pot of something steaming in her hands that she places on the counter.

Laswell's backup twitches, seemingly surprised that the place wasn't as empty as he thought it was. You give the old woman a curt nod. It's enough to make her go about her day as normal, and you silently thank God that she isn't one to question.

"Always pick the jumpy attack dogs?"

Laswell stands up, breathing in harshly. If she doesn't like your resistance, she can pick someone else. "The squad is still weary from the last op." She explains.

You nod quietly in response. At least that's one thing you can sympathize with.

"Come, I'm not going to wait around for you to change your mind."

You hope Elena likes the flowers.

You feel like an idiot. Not even an hour out of the town you resided in, is an off the map military base. You are disgusted, appalled, shocked, disappointed. Every word in the book they could find.

You had prided yourself in being able to outrun anything. When Laswell helped you fake your own death, it was even easier. The amount of preparation you had to do when moving from place to place, was to put it mildly, extensive.

Somehow you completely missed this place.

It has your head reeling. Not even the rumbling of the car, or the passing outside, is enough to distract you. You catch Laswell eyes in the rearview mirror. She was first to get behind the wheel, which is a...choice.

Allowing out a soft sigh, you let your head rest against the window. The base is out past the middle of nowhere. You'd go crazy if you had to count all the corn fields you've passed by now.

Oh look...a cow.

"Nervous?"

The man next to you startles you out of your thoughts. You spare him a glance, not allowing yourself to linger too long at a time. He's casually dressed, his weapons hidden cleverly beneath layers of clothing.

If you remember right, Laswell called him Gaz. Odd nickname but not like you can judge, you've been called way worse.

He's got a good build, even with the blue hoodie you can see how his muscles fill it out. You don't doubt he could deck you fast if he wanted to. There'd be very little you could do about it, so out of form as you are. Occupied with everything else and staying out of sight, you haven't much time to keep yourself excessively fit.

Laswell picks her attack dogs well.

How sweet the sound of his bones breaking beneath your boot would sound.

You shake your head, grimacing at the thought. The little cracks that fill your ears are deafening.

"Don' worry, Cap's nice enough"

You don't doubt it, you just can't find it in yourself to care. Promises can so easily be broken; at the end of the day everyone wants something. That something has a tendency of putting you in danger, so you're not particularly excited.

"Gaz..." Laswell looks through the rearview mirror, making brief eye contact with the sergeant. Does she really think you that unhinged to not handle a simple conversation. A bit insulting.

"What...jus' making conversation," Gaz mumbles and turns his head to the side, subsequently joining you in looking out at the passing cows.

How much would she even tell Gaz about you. He couldn't know much, over half the things you're included in would be classified, and he's but a sergeant. His standoffish stance in the café was likely just to assess the danger, but the switch up is kind of freaking you out.

He seems nice enough overall, but you can't decide whether or not you actually want him to be. In a way it would be easier if he wasn't. You're not here to cultivate new friendships, you're here because you don't have another choice.

Whatever conversation he tries to make, dies out for the rest of the ride.

As soon as the car is put in park, Gaz jumps out. Gone within a blink of an eye, which you came to expect. The rest of the way was spent in awkward silence, and as much as you'd rather have silence, it was bad even for your taste.

Laswell takes it upon herself to lead you through the base. It's hard to ignore the looks and glares you get. You're an unknown variable, and without Laswell, you likely seem like an outright danger. It's a bit uncanny, to think that you once stood on their side, shoulder to shoulder with a sibling made of war.

She doesn't talk to you as you walk through base. You rely on your prior knowledge of the layout of UK military bases, to know where your exits would be. She parts with you in front of the "captains" office, a small throwaway promise to come get you once she has talked to him.

You don't question it, but it does make you raise a brow. Has she even told the captain you'd be coming? He would be the one supervising you when Laswell wouldn't be there, it's a pretty big thing to leave him in the dark about.

As soon as she closes the door, you let out a frustrated gust of air. This was already turning more complicated than you wanted it to be. Why didn't you resist a bit more, protest a bit more, you didn't even negotiate better terms with her. The shock alone, of seeing her again so soon after everything, rendered you unable to think logically.

At least the hallway is relatively empty.

Shadows start to creep in the corner of your vision. Thousands of little things hide there, occupying the otherwise empty space around.

You read the inscription on the door; Captain John Price.

The captain wasn't completely unknown to you. Though it all stems from rumors you heard, when you were a recruit. A few of your teammates had spoken about him in quiet whispers. Back then he didn't have the rank of Captain yet, nor a whole taskforce to command. He's come a long way.

Could they be similar?

No.

No one else could be like that, not that far. Especially not an old Idol, that would just be cruel.

"Kate you can't be serious...have you seen their file."

You perk up when you hear the slightly raised voices from inside. They're talking about you. You tilt your head closer. A grumbled brass voice sounds out, it reminds you of that of a dragon, most likely one belonging to the captain. You try to put a face to the name, but you can't remember any of the old pictures you saw. Every vivid image in your mind is distortedly different.

"You asked me to find extra help, this is it."

You'd laugh in her face if she was out here. There are much more qualified people than you, even with dealing with a group such as this.

"You could read one line in this and know they should not be handling a gun; much less be sent out in possible high-pressure situations."

You nod along for no one to see. You've done this song and dance trying to get reenlisted, twice before. More for the protection aspects than anything else. It would’ve been a lot easier getting your hands on weapons that way, instead of the unconventional way you've resorted to in your time away.

You did give yourself a bit of credit. Despite everything you had fared quite well for yourself, without Laswell's extended help. It came with strings, so you had turned it down.

At least you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere, which to be quite fair, you wouldn't put it past you for it to happen.

"John..."

"Kate..."

You start to wonder if Price would look like a dragon in human form. He already has the voice to match. Maybe he has a fiery beard, a tone that commands the respect of thousands. Would he hoard his possessions, to a disturbing extent?

The door scrapes against the floor when its opened. The sound makes you want to tear your ears off.

"Come on in" Kate waves you inside, making sure to close the door behind you. His office is simplistic, no personal touches around, only the standard issued items rest on his desk. From what you remember, he's used to moving from place to place often, it's likely that this office won't be his anymore by the end of the week.

"This is Captain John Price" She introduces you, and you offer him a nod of hopefully mutual respect. It's not reciprocated.

At first glance you notice two things about the captain.

One.

He stands tall. You don't doubt no matter how many meters you have in you, the man has ways of making you feel small.

He has a beard, beautiful eyes too, when you find it in you to look past the serious expression. It tells you all you need to know about him. At least he's not incompetent, he knows you shouldn't be here. Anyone would know after a single glance at you, even if Kate seems to think otherwise.

And two.

Price doesn't look like a dragon.

You don't know why it disappoints you. You knew very well he would not, and still, you find your heart sinking just little at his dismissive look.

It's a fantasy.

You stopped dreaming years ago; you have no intention of starting the childish notion again. You see enough things that weren't real, why add to it.

Price let's out a long sigh. His frustration with you is clear, but Laswell is steadfast in her opinion, no matter the resistance she wants you in this. The look she's sending his way, does as much as a firm set of words would. He folds his arms over his chest, looking back at her with as much determination as she is.

The quiet is...intruding.

You feel like you're witnessing something that you shouldn't be. The type of conversations, that your boss would have about you in private, to decide what to do with your behavior. You feel a need to say something, to break the silence and remind the two in the middle of a staring contest, that you're still here.

"Fine" Price concedes reluctantly, "but if there is anything-"

"There won't be any problems," she assures him "right?"

You freeze up the moment she refers to you. What were you supposed to say to that. You didn't want to be here, it was only out of obligation to her, to pay the blood debt you owe her.

You shrug your shoulders, finding a spot in the floor to stare at. The stain morphs and changes, subtly getting bigger and smaller, wider, and thinner all at once. It bleeds into the tile. You try to place a shape to it, but it changes too fast for you to decide on anything.

"Right then," Price moves over to his desk and pulls out a folder of multiple files. "You're going to want to know who you're going to work with," he slams the folder down on the wooden table. It creeks. You fight back a flinch.

"Kate has promised me you're going to be able to help," he doesn't sound convinced, "we'll see what you can do."

Laswell gives Price another glare. It would be comforting -her protectiveness- if it wasn't shrouded in obligation. It's laughable how much she believes you can solve her problem.

"You'll be accompanying the 141 in this, they've been working on this for the past month." Laswell chimes in as Price gets out the files of each respective member.

"I thought you needed my help immediately."

"I told you I was going to pull out all other resources before bringing you back into this." There's something pitying in her eyes, it makes you feel sick.

You were always going to be in this. No matter how much you hated it. It has been a part of so much of your life, there's nothing you can do to peel it off your skin. Lord knows you've tried to.

"Yes...We've been gathering as much information as we can on the group," Price leans his hip against the table. "We haven't found much, like the last time they were around, their efforts are very secretive, but we know where they're grouping. We have received reports, threats, missing persons rapports, all the signs the same group gave a few years ago, it seems very possible they have the same leader as well."

"The Divine Principle" you dig your nails into your palms. Your eyes catch the captains, now suddenly more attentive of you.

"You-"

"That's what they call themselves. I've hunted them before; I thought Laswell said." You don't bother looking towards the woman on your left, this is between you and the captain. He didn't seem to be quite convinced of your knowledge or skills. You didn't blame the man. You couldn't prove your skills worthy just yet, so your knowledge had to suffice.

You don't know why you suddenly feel the need to prove it to him, but there's something about his presence that makes you want him to like you. It's a rare feeling, the last time you felt like this you-

"She did, but she did not explain much about you, other than what's available in your file."

"I know enough to know they aren't good people," you switch up your stance, mimicking the way he was standing when you first came in. Your attention catches on the files again. You wonder who they could be, what their skills would include, if they would collide with your own.

You weren't used to working in groups like this, it was going to be different.

"Then you also know how important this mission is, they've done irreparable damage in the past, we can't have it happen again."

Price pushes one file towards you, holding the other three files in his grasp. "Gaz, who you already met as I understand it." You nod, thinking back to the man. Part of you had expected to meet him again, you should've realized he likely already was in the taskforce if he was accompanying Laswell.

"There's Soap, he'll be enthusiastic having a new member on the team I'll assure you that." Price places his file for you to see, giving you a moment before moving on. John MacTavish, Scottish by the looks of it, and an interesting hair choice of a mohawk. You're almost surprised they let him keep it.

"Lastly Ghost, and myself" he puts down the last file. It has no attached picture, but that isn't what initially grabs your attention as out of place as it is. What settles deep in your bones, is his name.

Simon Riley

Simon.

That Simon.

Your brow furrows as you read his name over and over and over again, gradually wishing he had a picture so you could confirm it for yourself. You hadn't seen or heard the name in years, not since you left Manchester. Was there really a chance it could be him.

"There's no picture," you pick up his file, as if reading his name closer would bring clarity to your adding questions.

"Never is," Price observes your hesitance the way you give Ghost's file more attention than the rest, "Do you know each other?"

"Might, it was a long time ago though, I doubt he'd even remember me."

He observes you for what feels like forever, trying to look past your carefully crafted mask, to gouge out the state of the relationship. "Well, it'd be good to have some familiarity on the team," he shrugs "can make the transition easier for you."

Yeah, if he doesn't despise you still.

You don't feel the need to tell the captain of your possibly declined relationship with the man. There's still a chance it's not him. You don't know why you're trying to fool yourself that it's not. You knew even back then that he wanted to join the military, that it had been all he ever wanted.

He's a lieutenant now. Despite everything you can't help but feel a little proud of him for making it this far, even if it's tinged with sadness.

"Will it be a problem?" Laswell brings your attention to her. Her voice layered with a sense of supposed knowledge that she is not supposed to have. It's hard to not get a little irritated, at this point you have no idea how much information the woman has in her skull. Information that you'd love nothing more than to erase from her memory.

"No, it will not" she isn't expecting any other answer. It's not like she's suddenly going to let you go if you do. Worst case scenario she restricts your workspace to avoid a conflict, and if she so desperately wants you to do this job, then you need your space.

"Make it quick, yeah?"

Gaz comes to a stop in front of the door to your little motel room. He makes a quick glance down each side of the hall. Deeming it clear, he leans back against the yellow tinted walls. Too bad he can't see the shadows breathing down his neck.

Though you'd never experienced anything shady or violent, you knew there was a rising criminal activity in the motel. You just never really spent enough time here to witness any of it.

"Yeah yeah," you grimace fumbling with your keys. You really should get rid of some of them, most of them didn't have a purpose anymore. Though like with most things, you had a hard time letting go.

The inside of your the little room you rented is exactly as you left it. Dresser door broken and splintered, curtains half closed, shadows looming in every corner and crevice.

Home sweet home, or something to that effect.

It's not a lot, but you don't complain, you've certainly lived with worse. Not staying in one spot for more than a month at a time didn't leave many options for work, so you had made do.

As much as you trusted Laswell's skills, and her promises, you had your own wariness to battle against. This way was the only one that actually made you feel like you had an advantage, against those that meant you harm.

The duffel bag with most of your belongings, had been hastily shoved into the dresser the morning prior. You find it uninterrupted in the same place, as expected. You glance towards the window and mark your possible exit. Should the man outside turn for whatever reason, the window would be loose, and you could break through the rusted glass frames.

For now, though, you had to trust that this taskforce you were to temporarily join, didn't actually want you dead. Yet.

Your variables are changing, and fast. There isn't a bigger part of you that enjoys this, and meeting up with Simon again could only prove trouble. He probably still held some resentment towards you, there's only the small hope that he keeps things professional.

You look down into your bag, rummaging around in the sealed pocket to locate your pile of papers. Years old and stained letters, some answered, some not. It was your only means of communication for a time, until it all stopped. You don't think he ever found out why, he would've contacted you if he did right? Or maybe he had decided then and there you weren't worth his energy.

Pushing the thoughts aside proved a much harder task than normal. You had gotten used to putting all into a tightly sealed box in your brain, but now that you knew for certain it would all come flooding out, it proved it harder to contain overall.

There isn't much to collect from the room itself, most of your things were already packed and ready for an easy go. You pick up an extra set of shoes and stuff them in before venturing to the bathroom.

You had to give it to this place, they had some of the most uncomfortable bathrooms you'd had the pleasure of occupying. The mirror is stained and dirty, the tile an ugly brown color, and not even to talk about the toilet itself, or the odd smell. Though the latter could be explained by you and your own ministrations.

Your eyes land on the cross tossed into the tub. Little thing on a chain, the same one you had worn for years at a time. Dried blood still gives it that discoloration.

Your knees click when you reach down and place it in the cup of your hand. To think that this little thing carries so much of you. It has seen it all, witnessed your greatest heights making you feel light as a feather, and watched all your sins unfold, burning like hellfire against your chest.

You've never hated a thing more.

Slipping it around your neck is a thoughtless process. The muscle memory in your fingers do the work for you, securing the chain on the back of your neck, like reattaching a leash.

You stand up straight and walk to the sink. Your toothbrush has fallen, it's green hue so faded it's turning white in some areas. You really should just get a new one.

Your reflection catches in the mirror, and you make the mistake of not looking away. Your face turns to a blob of colors and bleeding effects. There's nothing to tell and nothing to see. Your eyes cave in, your nose splitting apart, your ears fuse with your hair and your fingers are too long dragging off your skin.

You barely recognize yourself anymore. You know it's in there, begging to come out, but it'll only come worse than before if you let it.

It all morphs together. A thousand different shadows standing behind you, their long digits running over your arms and shoulders, beckoning you forward. They lean into your ears, fester in your brain, in your eyesight. The shadows in the corners are always the worst in front of mirrors.

It's your fault. You know what you did. You know that they would've still been alive if you hadn't done it. Why are you still here. Why do you think you can hide? You always go back, it's your place, it's ingrained on your skin.

There's never been an out for people like you.

You grab your toothbrush and exit the bathroom.

"You really been livin' in here?"

You clasp a hand over your mouth, masking the shriek you would've let out. You thought he was going to stay outside.

Gaz looks into mirror hanging next to the dresser with the broken door. He inspects his reflection, rubbing a thumb over a smudge of dirt on his neck.

"It was a temporary solution," you tell him as soon as you get your spiraling mind under control. You walk over to the duffel bag on the bed, throwing in the rest of your dwindling belongings.

You can feel his eyes on you, likely judging you. At least he has the decency to keep his mouth shut. You couldn't afford nicer in your current situation, and moving as frequently as you were, this was the least costly option.

"For how long?"

He walks over to the bed, glancing into your bag once before continuing his move around your room. You didn't truly know the answer to that question yourself.

Very long, too long, as long as you can hide like a coward.

"As long as necessary," you answer him while zipping up your duffel bag. It slings around your shoulder, fits neatly against your back. It's a familiar lightweight. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad, you were planning your move anyway.

He gives you a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate. You don't. His shoulders sag a bit when he seems to realize. "Hurry it up," he says and walks to the door, "don't got all day, we have a plane to catch."

He leaves you alone in the hollowing room. It turns a shade darker when the sun shifts outside the window. The shadows consume more of the room. Millions of little eyes watching you in secret.

You walk over to the wall and kneel. It feels wrong to do. There's so many little dents and scrapes hammered into it, the pattern of the wall hiding the little room perfectly. You bang on it once and quietly. Moving the cutout piece out of place, you reach inside to find the gun.

You check it, still fully loaded, and put it down amongst what little clothes you have. It's only for necessity of course, nothing vicious yet.

Come come come.

Your head tilts towards the window, the curtains managing to flow ever so slightly. They bleed into the background, the murky watery color splitting with the patterns on the walls, and the greenery outside.

All of it dark and gloomy. Threatening.

Your legs carry you there. The sun has disappeared behind a set of clouds, leaving dark promises of rain and thunder. The whispers are always the loudest when you're alone. They're not always saying anything. Sometimes they're shaming you, reminding you, other times it's incessant noise.

Occasionally they take shape. Shadow figures with creepy smiles, wide bloodshot eyes. It hides down in the forest behind the motel, to watch you through the window to your room. It's crooked grin bleeds and oozes. You forcefully blink a few times, trying to will it away, but you know it won't disappear until you get distracted, or it wants to go.

You don't hear it; it merely mouths it to you.

He'll find you.

And the scariest part is, you know it's right.

There's never been anywhere you could hide.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

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lairai · 2 months ago

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Hell, or-

I don't often (or, really, at all) make paintings that are in any way relevant to any of my real life circumstances, but this one has been haunting me just a tiny bit so I just had to try and translate it to a canvas somehow. Putting the rest of the info under 'read more' so I can spare anyone not wanting to go through this essay lol.

Floods are one of the only extreme weather types we get in my country, and while I'm sure in XYZ nation out there it's worse and the locals have much worse to contend with etc., the knowledge of it doesn't change the fact that the rain which has hit central Europe recently has been catastrophic. As always, the worst of the floods hit by evening or night, and there's just something about the combination of darkness, wind, and lamplight, where you can hear the water everywhere but can't properly see it and you're kind of dreading what you'll wake up to in the morning, that gets to you. Doesn't help that this time, the situation did not improve the next day, and many people woke up to things having gotten drastically worse.

I included a good number of things, drawn mostly from memory, that have stuck in my mind from the floods my hometown experienced in the summer this year, as I was reminded of all of them yesterday evening when the worst of the weather hit the city I have since moved to. A good part of the city I live in has been evacuated, and I would not at all be overestimating if I said the weekend has been devastating so far.

The trees - In lamplight, trees look kind of sort of cursed. I just find the extremely vivid green that immediately disappears into pitch blackness as soon as the light stops reaching the leaves kind of unsettling.

The hose - This is a vaguely drawn reference to the hoses the firefighters use when pumping water out of flooded homes. Since floods inevitably entail everything getting wet, it looks very shiny and resembles a pipe.

The plants - The stream opposite of my family's house almost always overflows during floods, but there's no measuring stick in our part of the neighbourhood that we could use to tell how high the water has risen, so we use the plants that grow alongside the stream to kind of eyeball it.

The jackdaw - Jackdaws are extremely common in cities here and are an everyday sight. I wanted to include something that would refer to the "normal" state of things that could work in contrast with the rest of the image, and to me, jackdaws kind of represent that. Its wings are red and blue because those are the only colours you're seeing at night besides the street lamps, from the red firefighter trucks with blue lights.

Bags of sand - If you live in an area prone to flooding, you know 'em, you love 'em.

Traffic sign with reflective label - This is a direct reference known only to me that points to a nighttime photo of my hometown being flooded - in the photo, this one label on some traffic sign reflects brightly into the camera, and it's what's made the photo easy to recognise to me.

#art #my art #europe #floods #also my first time drawing a jackdaw ever #digital art

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ephemeral--dreams · 2 years ago

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Alhaitham, Cyno, Kokomi; when you get injured.

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Alhaitham

He had anticipated an average day. Showing up to work, finishing whatever he needed to, and then spending his time reading for the remainder of the afternoon.

In other words, he hadn't thought he'd be wrestling answers out of a pair of scholars after hearing your name in passing.

"Do you want to tell me why I had to find out you were injured through gossip?" Is the first thing Alhaitham asks as he enters the room, tone fairly neutral despite the accusatory nature of his words. You blink at him from where you sit, covered in bandages, but awake and aware, at least. Not as bad as he'd worried it would be.

If he was more prone to outbursts of emotion, he might've burst in here and scolded you. He might've felt panic when he'd found out you were hurt. He might've been relieved when he found you seemed to be relatively okay.

…Alhaitham tells himself he felt none of that.

"…I didn't want to bother you. You get annoyed when you get interrupted unnecessarily, right?"

He falls silent. So that was it. You weren't wrong, exactly, but… He'd hardly call it an interruption, when it was about your health and safety. He knew he didn't make his emotions obvious, but he'd thought you had enough sense to realize he cared about you. He wouldn't have put up with you being around for so long if he didn't.

"You're an idiot," is all he says, preoccupying himself with making sure you've been taken care of properly, hands brushing surprisingly gently over you. Archons know that the Akademiya is filled with stupid people, even the healers can't be trusted with you… "If you're bothering me, you know I wouldn't hold back on telling you. Don't make needless assumptions."

"Maybe I am. Sorry," you sit patiently as he examines you, his concern unspoken as always, but obvious in his actions. As harsh as he could be at times, it was moments like this in which you were reminded that he could be softer... Occasionally. "I'm okay, really. You don't need to worry."

Alhaitham doesn't quite believe you - the way he watches over you more closely for the next few weeks makes it abundantly clear. But you can't exactly complain about having his attention, even if you had to get hurt for it to happen…

Cyno

Cyno is… Well aware that injuries are something that happen. He faces dangerous situations on a regular basis. Often, he himself is the danger.

This isn't the same, however. As much as he hates anyone else getting injured under his watch, when it's you, it feels exponentially worse. It should never, ever happen. If he could protect criminals from getting hurt in their own stupidity as they ran from him, couldn't he protect you even better?

…Apparently not, considering the pained sounds you let out under your breath and he carried you to get medical attention. This was what he got for getting distracted with work while you were together, wasn't it? Target apprehended, but not without you getting caught up in it all.

"It's only a broken leg, Cyno. You don't need to look so guilty."

"It happened because of me," his voice is tense, just as tense as his arms around you feel.

You don't get the chance to reply, commotion beginning the moment the two of you arrive. Then it's Tighnari fussing over you, Collei's worried face in the background, and no sign of Cyno.

It's not until a few hours later when he shows up, moonlight glinting off his silent form. If you were any less used to his presence, you'd have been startled by how he appeared so suddenly. As it is, you take it in stride.

"I don't blame you, you know, but when you disappear like that I end up being the one who's worried…"

All he can think is - you're far too forgiving. Though perhaps that was why he was drawn to you in the first place. A pure soul, one not infected by a greed for knowledge or money or power, as many around him were. You are too good for him, but here the two of you are, regardless.

You huff at his lack of reply, reaching to take his hand, tugging him closer. "I'm fine, see? Stop brooding and come sit with me. You can even tell me some of your jokes if it'll make you feel better."

You were the one supposed to be getting reassured here… But if it was what you wanted, he'd acquiesce. "…Fine. I will."

Kokomi

Kokomi feels her heart nearly stop in her chest at the sight of you bloodied and unconscious. Yet she keeps her calm until she's taken you to a quieter place, away from the sight of the shrine maidens.

During the rebellion, one of the worst parts of it all had been watching people get injured under her command. Injuries happened during war. It was inevitable. But it still brought a terrible feeling of helplessness.

Which is exactly what she's feeling now. It was worse because it was someone so dear to her who was hurt, this time. It was a harsh reminder of both your fragility, and of the fact that even during times of peace, harm could still befall you and everyone else.

Being the one to watch over watatsumi is a burdensome responsibility.

But if nothing else, she'd been blessed with the ability to heal. So that's what she does, the blue light of hydro washing over all your wounds until they slowly fade.

It doesn't quite feel good enough. Regardless of them being gone, she will remember they were there. You will remember the pain. But it is what it is, and acceptance is more productive than reminiscence.

Kokomi remains next to you, watching the way your breaths rise and fall like the waves hitting and retreating from the shore.

She's still there when you wake.

"Do you feel better? It was concerning when you returned in that state."

Your smile is far too bright for the situation. "Much better."

"You need to be more careful. If I wasn't around…" Kokomi hesitates, the sort of sight only you are allowed. Hesitation had no place in the demeanor of the divine priestess, but if it was just you…

"I knew you would take care of me," you reach out to press a kiss to her lips, and she allows the reassurance - that you are still here with her.

#alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #kokomi x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #headcanon hours

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squidcave · 3 months ago

Note

what would skuldugerrys meltdown/shutdown look like (also can i have more stimming headcannons)

first of all, sorry this took forever to answer, everything started happening all at once and now we're here 🤙

ANYWAY!

I feel like he's more prone to shutdowns. While he doesn't need to sleep, he does need to rest and he's bad for just going and going until a breaking point is reached, at which point he just disappears.

This could go for both meltdown & shutdown but in the lead up to said breaking point, his patience gets incredibly thin and he'll start snapping at people. The difference is that in the case of a meltdown, this continues to escalate rather than suddenly stopping as with shutdown.

Ghastly's really good for noticing when things are getting bad and making skulduggery take a break, even if he has to be sneaky about it.

It takes Valkyrie a bit to fully catch on but when she does, the most subtle she gets is "I'm taking a day off and so are you, no arguments." which honestly works about 80% of the time (this method is especially effective in phase 2 when yk, Val actually takes time off sometimes).

As for more stimming hc's 👀, I'm so glad you asked!

I feel like after he died, a lot of stims just (literally) don't hit the same yk? like I can see him when he was alive, playing with his hair a lot, just generally very sensation seeking. Which is unsurprisingly quite hard to do as a skeleton whose ability to feel various sensations is limited - non existent ( he feels pain perfectly fine, regular touch is unclear, and I don't think he can feel the difference in temperature?? I might be wrong on that but you get the point). So he's gotta switch it up.

Enter Visual Stimming! you ever catch yourself staring at a candle for Too Long and think "I've gotta stop, this is gonna damage my eyes"? Well guess who has no eyes to damage and can summon fire at will! Or just watching traffic go by at night, stuff like that.

Speaking of traffic (and idk how much this counts towards stimming so much as just generally a comfort thing), driving is like peak chill time. Idk how much sense this is gonna make but

Skulduggery's probably been driving as long as cars have been around - it really is not something he has to think about while doing. And while I don't personally drive, I would hope, it's a fairly engaged activity if you know what I mean? like you're watching the road, listening to traffic/music/a passenger. there's a tactile element in the steering, the gear shift, the clutch and pedals, the mirrors, indicators etc. Just it being something he's so familiar with, has complete control over and is fairly often alone during, makes it an excellent de-stressor (and even when Valkyrie's there, at this point she fits into that space so perfectly that it doesn't change much. Most of the time, anyway)

I think we kinda circled back round at the end here but yeah 🫶 thank you for continuing to indulge me

#the background stress of Everything rn is making it harder than it needs to be to write out my thoughts coherently #so again sorry for that and for taking literally ten years to answer lmao #thank you for encouraging this anon im having a great time #skulduggery pleasant #asks

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rosze-v · 2 years ago

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green cloak and green stones

pairing: Baizhu x Reader

synopsis: The story of a green cloaked adventurer, Doctor Baizhu and your disappearance (Based on this ask!)

tags: NOT PROOF READ, ANGST, visionless reader, mentions of wounds but its not explicit, death!, unrequited love (I'm not sure what else to tag but if there’s anything please let me know)

w.c : 2.7k

a/n: Halu!! First of all, I AM SO SORRY FOR POSTING THIS LATE!! I was so busy and I’m only getting busier cause guess what? YOUR GIRL IS PURSUING HER DEGREE OMG ASDHASKDJAHSKASKJ I AM SO HAPPY! I JUST GOT THE NEWS TODAY! Anyways, this is very angsty and my first ask ever!! I tried my best to make it good so I hope my first anon loves it! All in all, enjoy and thank you for all who love my writing, I am nothing with your love.

You are an amazing adventurer— visionless, but amazing nonetheless. Others had said (your people from Sumeru), that being a visionless adventurer is like a knight without its swords, but you have proven them wrong. You cultivated multiple skills, be it in the swords, in using polearms or any weapon it is, you had also cultivated your adventuring skills such as navigation and mapping; the skills under your belt are enough to pick up top tier commissions without any hassle.

Of course, being visionless means you’re more prone to injuries, so you have to always make do with passing doctors or medicine you produce yourself using wild herbs, yet nothing beats Baizhu’s medicines. You could still remember the day you first went to his pharmacy; it was raining, you had asked the locals if there’s any place that will tend to injuries and they directed you to Bubu Pharmacy.

Once you reached the Pharmacy, you could see a little kid behind the counter and almost cursed the locals for lying but then a green haired man, with a rare white snake around his neck, emerges from the back.

“I'm sorry but we’re close dear customer, you can come over tomo—”. Baizhu took in your haggard appearance, your green cloak clung to you; the rain drops below your feet mix with red and your alarming paleness were enough to make Baizhu ran over towards you, when your knees caved in.

Next thing you knew, you’re staring at an unfamiliar ceiling and you could feel bandages wrapped around your stomach, directly below your left ribcage where you were stabbed.

“Do you want coconut milk?”. Your eyes snapped to the pale child beside you, her eyes expressionless. You were going to ask her what’s coconut milk when the man from before came in with a pitcher.

“How are you feeling?”. You draped the blanket over you, as you sit up. You shrugged your body, trying to get a feel and as you were doing so, the doctor examines you briefly. When you realize that your body feels much better you gave him your biggest grin and a thumbs up.

“Feels great doc!”.

Then ever since, you had decided to stay in Liyue. Of course, your reasoning was mostly on how rich, historically and, literally Liyue is but you can’t possibly admit that you stayed because of the quiet and handsome doctor. You made sure to visit Bubu Pharmacy every single time you have any injuries or illnesses and over time, you realized that you had caught feelings over Baizhu. He was gentle and you were obnoxious both in your volume and your incessant flirting, it was obvious that you like the doctor.

“Baizhu? Are you here?”. You walked into the pharmacy, and there you could see him sitting beside Qiqi, instructing her on how to make the medicine. The dendro vision holder looks up at figure clad in a green cloak he knows very well and gives you a smile, his eyes crescent.

“Welcome back”. Hearing those words, some of the fatigue straining your body were lifted as you approach the counter.

“Where are you hurt again (y/n)?”. He asked, standing up and leading you to the room at the back for his patients. You pat Qiqi’s head before dragging yourself to the room, where Baizhu sat on a chair by the bed. You sat down, taking off your cloak and show him your wounds, though they’re not huge and gnarly, you have multiple cuts and slashes on your arms and legs. You let Baizhu tends to you while you tell him stories of your adventures. Every single time, Baizhu would listen, at times he would ask questions or look at you in disbelief because how the hell did you get caught in such situations, but most of the time he would listen quietly.

He enjoys listening to you, your presence brought him joy and serenity but he could never tell you. Not with the illness he has, he can’t let himself like someone to much or even fall in love.

But, you were so… loveable. Your flirtations were constant but you were never scared to show him how much you love him. He was also amazed at the fact that you’re vision less yet you’re so fearless, unlike him. That’s part of you that he envies so much, because unlike him, shackled by an illness, incurable and unknown, you’re so free and filled with life.

Once he’s done with his treatment, you rummage through your bag and took out a white string decorated with various colors of green stones. You hand it to Baizhu and he examined it, trying to understand what is it.

“Its for your hair”. You said, as he stared at it, the stones were beautiful and it glimmers under the light. It’s too beautiful for him but he knew that rejecting your gift would be useless. All the gifts and letters from when you remembered him on your journey were kept safe in a box. He smiled and thank you for your gift, making a mental note to keep the hair tie in the box later.

“Can I tie it for you?”. You whispered, a blush staining your cheeks as you gaze at him with those eyes filled with adoration. A pang of guilt reaches his heart when his mouth almost utter rejection. Its not that he dislikes your gifts, he was just afraid that the feelings he kept safe in his own box would burst open. He nodded and smile, as you give him a grin, and gently reaches towards his braid.

With a slightly shaky hand, you reach towards the end of his braid, unconsciously rubbing his hair between your fingers. You untie the one on his hair and with skillful hands, you tie the beautiful gems around his hair. Once you’re done, you show it to him and Baizhu took the end of his hair into his hands and inspects your work. His green hair compliments the stones well and he thank you. Feeling the heavy tension in the air, you jokingly asked him out for dinner in which he, time and time again rejects you. Telling you that there’s a policy he has to follow as a doctor, and you only laugh and nodded, though deep in your heart, you understand the ‘policy’ were merely sweet words.

Then you were off to your next adventurer.

It was another rainy day, and you were back from your adventure. It has been two weeks since you last seen him and you missed him so much. Once you reach the pharmacy, there was a heaviness in the air, as if telling you to be careful. From the counter you could see, Qiqi, reading on her little book, the notebook you gave her the last time you were there. You smiled as you ask.

“Where’s the doc?”. The pale child points to the back and you give her a pat as a thank you. You went in and there Baizhu was organising his medicine, you cough, indicating your presence as his head whips towards you. You give him a huge smile, and usually he would give you his but this time, he nodded curtly. Your heart stinged at his cold welcome but shrug the thought off.

“Please sit down on the bed”. Something is amiss because Baizhu would usually say “welcome back” but here he is, tending to your wounds silently, a somber look on his face. You tried making jokes but he only nodded while focusing on his work. For the first time, the patient’s room were silent and you could only stare at him when you noticed that he was not wearing the hair tie you gave him.

A sharp pain reaches your heart but you shook your head, trying to make excuses. Once he was finish, you thank him as he mutters a no problem. You palm the smooth gem in your pocket, wondering if it’s the right timing to give it to him. The thing is, you have to give him because you are going for a very long journey, a journey for him.

“Hey Baizhu, are you free after this? Let’s go have dinner together yeah?”. Baizhu stares at your smiling face and shook his head.

“Sorry (y/n), I can’t go. I have something to do”.

“Aww come on!”. You approach him, pulling at his forearm. “We haven’t eaten together for so long! Besides there’s something I wanna gi—”.

“Just stop”. Baizhu pulls his arm from you, trying to walk away. It has been a long day, rude customers and his painful illness has been consistently attacking him throughout the day. He can’t afford to flirt and entertain you right now.

“I’m sorry Baizhu if I was too forceful, but the thing is I have to g—”.

“Stop it! I told you I have something to do!” Baizhu raises his voice as you step back, shocked by his sudden anger. You were going to apologise when he turns around, face red and filled with anger.

“I am so tired of you! Your incessant flirtings are so distracting and I… I can’t afford to be distracted!”. He clutched his chest, hissing as he continues.

“Why can’t you just stop? I have an illness to cure and you’re just…”. Baizhu sighs, trying to control his emotions and keeping his anger at bay. He knew, that you don’t deserve to be the one receiving his anger but everything is too much.

And you? Your head hung low, lips trembling as your nails dug into your palms. You took in a deep breath and look up, meeting his eyes as you give him a forced smile.

“I understand Baizhu.. I’m sorry again”. You whisper as you walk past him, and out of the room. Baizhu could only see your green robe flutter away as he curse at himself. Baizhu’s hand reaches his head, and fisted his hair, frustrated at the turns of event. He needs to apologise, he thought.

So he quickly get out of the room, trying to reach you again but as he passes the counter, he saw a stone. A green stone, he recognizes as aventurine. He knew instantly that it’s from you and guilt swarmed him all over. The meaning of the stone sinks into him, along with the relationship he denied ever since.

---

Months had pass since your disappearance, and his remorse had attached to his heart like a lock. On the second month, he knew that something was wrong. You never took this long and even if you do, he would have receive a letter. No letters came, days and night waiting for your letter, for your fluttering green cloak; yet nothing came and after the third month, he decided that this time; he’s going to find you, apologise, bring you out for dinner and continue the routine the both of you once had, between a patient and a doctor.

So Baizhu set out for Sumeru, your hometown. Once he reaches Sumeru it was already night, and he believe that nothing good will come from rushing, so he check into a place to stay. When the morning comes, he asks one of the local for a place to have some coffee, and the local suggested Puspa Café.

The aroma of coffee reaches his nose when he opens the door to the café. He looks around, trying to find a place to seat when he saw a familiar robe. His heart beat increases, excitement and relief pumps through his vein. Without much thought, he reaches towards the robed figure sitting down and places a hand, startling the figure.

“(y/n)?...”. The figure turns around and its not you. “Sorry, I thought…”

“Doctor Baizhu?”. Baizhu’s face changes into confusion, wondering how someone from Sumeru would know his name. He nodded, when the robed person, a lady in her teenage years smiles and offers him to sit.

“I know you! Master (y/n) talked about you all the time; I thought my ears would fall off. How are you, Doctor Baizhu?”.

“I…I am doing fine. I’m sorry but Master (y/n)? are you…”

“Yes, I’m Master (y/n) apprentice! Thank you for always tending to my master’s injuries. Master told me that you’re an amazing doctor and—”.

“I am sorry for interrupting but do you know where (y/n) is? It has been months…”. The girls face turns into sadness, the light she had, dimmed when she realize that Baizhu didn’t know. She stood up, confusing Baizhu who’s follows her movement.

“Come.” Baizhu in his confusion, follows despite his instinct telling him to stop. An instinct that he’s going to get hurt.

The girl lead him to a place where vast field of greenery feasts along his eyes, a single tree stood around it and a small house a bit faraway from it.

“Go to that tree, I’ll come with you soon, I need to get something”.

Baizhu nods in understanding as he walks towards the tree. He didn’t see it at first; the tombstone was covered by the tree.

May the shade bring serenity and peace for the brave soul beneath it, (y/n)

Baizhu read the etchings on the stone over and over again. Trying to understand what was etched and his brain had accepted it, but his heart can’t seem to fathom the thought that, that’s your name written there. That under this tree is you, that the (y/n), his (y/n) is gone. He had to held onto the tree, sliding down as his trembling hands reaches for your tomb stone.

“Master left you this”. The girl said, as she gives Baizhu a brown box and left him to look into the contents of it. Baizhu holds the box, somehow heavy despite the contents only being a piece of letter and an unfinished bracelet, one aventurine missing from it. Baizhu could feel his chest tightening, as he opens the letter.

To my most, dearest Baizhu,

If you received this letter then that must mean that I’m gone. Now, now don’t you cry your handsome face off! Only smiles and laughter should pass those lips. I’m sorry for not coming back to the pharmacy for so long, I was in search for these aventurines. You see, a friend of mine told me that these stones have healing properties and I thought that it would be great for you! Though you’re a doctor, I’ve seen how frail your body is and well… I’m not a doctor so I can’t create a potion for it but I’m an adventurer! Please wear them and I pray that these stones can ease your pain, albeit a little. Baizhu…may I call you my love here? It doesn’t matter anyways; I'm dying so I will. Baizhu, my love, you held my heart in your palms ever since you wrapped those bandages on my body. I’m sorry for all my doings that annoys or disturbs you, it was not my intention love. I am so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you all this in person but I am a coward and my body is not strong enough to travel back to Liyue, but please. Please Baizhu, don’t you dare blame yourself, you have been a light, a love though unrequited but a love I received through your soft touches and tender words. So please, live a long, healthy life for me and continue helping others. The letter has gotten too long, I’ll wrap it up here. Thank you Baizhu, I love you. I love you. I love you.

P/s: Pat Qiqi’s head for me!

Baizhu held the letter to his chest, his tears had long wash over his face from the beginning of the letter. You’re gone. You’re gone and you had loved him, and he knew but you… you never knew the love he held for you. He loves you too and he could only whisper to the tree of his love for you.

“(y/n), oh my (y/n) … I’m sorry…”. He wailed into the wind, the pain of your death triumph the pain raging through his fatigued body. In his tears, with a trembling hand he attaches the last aventurine onto the bracelet as he ties it on his left wrist.

And it was instant, the stone glow, and the pain he felt in his body dissipates, and he knew, that it worked, that though he can’t understand, but he knew its more than the stone. This final gift of yours were filled with so much love, it healed. He stares at your tombstone; a small smile grows on his face.

Yet why does the pain in his heart stays? And why is it growing? That will be a question that lingers along with him in life.

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