#disable man x calculator

[seaweedstarshine]

RIP Krakoa 🌹 I can’t lie I’ve been kinda behind since midway through Fall of X I’m gonna catch up before my first SDCC this summer but I hear Vulcan didn’t see much action anyway. Anyway my hand slipped and I found myself looking into the eyes of my canonically psychotic son the best Summers brother who’s never done anything wrong in his entire life, (he’s done lotsa wrong things but I love him more for it)

[running-in-the-dark]

...

[renx01]

Too Sweet

Prompt: Inspired by the Hozier song Pairing: Harry Hart x (Kingsman!)Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: age gap, mutual pining, angst Word count: 6495

Masterlist

You’d joined Kingsman only five years ago, and over time you’ve become a well-respected agent, code-named Tristan. Merlin, who is your uncle, was the one who had proposed you as a candidate and helped you prepare for the role while you were still in your early twenties. The other candidates had been good, but you were nearly flawless, only taking calculated risks and never letting your emotions rule your decision making. Control over your emotions was something you always excelled in, and it tremendously helped you make strides as an agent during the initial few months and first year. This caused you to rise in rank quite quickly, making you go on more solo missions or accompanying Galahad or Percival whenever they needed assistance. Today, you’re helping your uncle instead, hacking into some cameras and security networks so he’ll be able to tell Lancelot and Galahad where to go next and what they should be looking out for. It’s something you do from time to time, mostly upon Merlin’s request when he finds the mission too complicated to oversee on his own.

‘The main control room should be south from where they are now.’ You pull up the map on the big screen which hangs in front of you and Merlin, pointing out where Galahad and Lancelot should be going next. As he’s relaying the information to the other men, you hack into the mainframe the criminal organisation and start going through the different files. ‘Any updates about the nuclear files?’ Galahad’s voice comes through the speakers and Merlin looks at you. ‘Working on it. Just focus on getting to that room.’ The screen in front of you shows Lancelot’s feed. He’s following Galahad through the many hallways and twists and turns they take, taking down guards whenever they come across them. Their moves are deliberate, quick and efficient. You turn back to your screen and after a few minutes you’re finally able to access the file Galahad had asked for. ‘I’m sending you the file now, Galahad.’ ‘Thanks Tristan.’ He replies. They have finally reached the door to the control room. Lancelot holds his watch against it and it opens. Silently, the two men enter the room. ‘Lancelot, I need you to connect us to the controls.’ Merlin states and the other man follows the order. Your screens fill with the necessary information and you start working on fully disarming and disabling  the system. ‘Galahad, please flip the green switch on your right.’ You request. Before he can really do so, a loud bang interrupts him, followed by the sound of shots. ‘Lancelot, you take those men while Galahad follows Tristan’s orders.’ Merlin’s Scottish accent seems thicker momentarily. You’ve noticed it only really happened when he was in more stressful situations; one time when you almost got kidnapped, it was so thick you could barely understand him despite having a mostly Scottish family. Calmly, you instruct Galahad what buttons to press and switches to flip. After a few minutes of him following your lead as you type away at your computer, you’re done. ‘Galahad. Lancelot. The system has fully been disabled and disarmed. Get back to the jet.’ They start running through the building and Merlin glances at you, giving you a small smile before going back to helping them follow the quickest route out of the building. 

‘You did well, Tristan.’ Merlin ruffles your hair and you smile at him. ‘Thanks. You didn’t do too badly yourself, old man.’ He laughs and lightly punches your arm. ‘I’m not that old, your mother is 10 years older than I am.’ You snort and teasingly say, ‘And you Merlin, are 12 years older than I am.’ After that comment, a comfortable silence settles between you. There were a few more tasks you had to complete before tomorrow, so you decided you would spend the evening and night at the mansion.  About an hour after the mission finished, Merlin leaves, leaving you alone in front of the large screen filled with documents. Quietly, you continue working for a few more hours before you call it a night. You’d finished your side of the report, only needing Galahad and Lancelot for the final few details. You’ll probably ask them about those during the debrief tomorrow afternoon. 

Once you’ve locked your computer and turned off all the lights, you silently walk to the kitchen, where you start making a pot of tea. The room is dark, as you only turned on the light above the stove. A sound from behind you catches your attention. Looking back, you see that your two colleagues have just returned from their mission. ‘Evening gentlemen.’ You greet them. ‘Tristan, good evening.’ Galahad walks up and stands next to you, just as the water starts boiling. ‘Would you like a cup?’ Your hands continue moving, putting in the tea egg to let the leaves steep. He hums in response as he grabs two more cups. ‘Chamomile?’ Galahad quietly asks and you nod. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you while Lancelot leaves the room momentarily to put some of their things away. Once the tea has sufficiently gained colour and flavour, you pour some into the three cups. Grabbing your own, you sit down next to the chair you’d draped your suit jacket over. Harry sits down across from you and puts down Lancelot’s cup next to him. You both quietly drink your tea, your eyes scanning that day’s paper. When you look up, you notice his eyes are trained on you, making you a bit nervous. Before you can say anything, though, Lancelot walks back in and starts talking about their flight back to England and the newest Royal scandal of the week. The other man’s attention shifts to his colleague who is talking excitedly. Your eyes scan Galahad’s features. He is handsome, smart, quick-witted, and a gentleman. A combination which has led you to, over time, develop a bit of a crush on your colleague. 

‘Tristan, what do you think?’

You turn your head to face the other man. ‘I think the situation escalated unnecessarily, had the royal family handled it properly, this would’ve never become public.’ He smiles and Galahad interjects. ‘I agree with Tristan, this situation could have easily been avoided.’ The two men continue talking and you sip your tea.  ‘Gentlemen, I’m heading off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the debrief.’ You stand up and put your cup into the dishwasher. It was already 11 o’clock. ‘Tristan,’ Galahad stands up, ‘if you’ll allow me, I’ll walk you back to your room.’ Smiling, you nod. ‘Of course Galahad; thank you.’ He leaves the room with you and as you walk, he leans sideways in your direction and whispers. ‘Thanks Tristan. I was a bit tired of Lancelot talking. He’s been going without pause from the moment we got on the jet.’ It didn’t surprise you in the least. ‘Of course Galahad. Lancelot tends to talk quite a lot; I suspect his favourite sound may be his own voice.’ He snorts. ‘I suspect you might be correct.’ The hallways are silent except for your quiet footsteps and conversation. The distance between the two of you seems to become smaller as you continue walking and talking; until you stop in front of your door. ‘Galahad, thank you for accompanying me.’ You turn to face him and smile. ‘Of course Tristan, it was my pleasure.’ His voice was quiet. The silence between you is tense and Harry seems to slowly be leaning closer as he holds your eye contact. Moments, which feel like hours pass, but he doesn’t make a move. Your noses almost touch when he seems to snap out of a sort of trance and clears his throat, pulling back quickly. ‘Ah Tristan, I should get going. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ As he walks away, you stand frozen in your doorway.

The following morning you watch the sunrise outside, a hot cup of coffee in your hand. It seems no one else is up yet. You’ve left your suit jacket in your room and have your sleeves rolled up, the crisp air touching your form. Behind you, you hear your dog walking and sniffing around. ‘Ares.’ The Doberman walks to your side. ‘Want to go for a walk?’ He barks and you pet him behind his ears. ‘Let’s go.’ You smile and he runs into the field in front of you, with you following calmly. Upon your return, you’re greeted by Merlin, who looks to have woken up not too long ago. ‘Morning Tristan.’ Ares excitedly runs up to the Scot. ‘Morning to you too Ares.’ He puts down his coffee and pets the dog with both his hands. ‘You’ve got an awful lot of energy today, haven’t you?’ ‘He really does, he’s been running around for over an hour already.’ You laugh. ‘I’ll bring Albion to play with him later today.’ He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘I’ll be back momentarily, can you watch Ares for a second?’ He nods. ‘Thanks.’ you say and smile at him. You walk into the kitchen through the open doors. Putting down your cup, you start brewing another cup of coffee. The kitchen is still quiet, but you know that more of the agents that have stayed the night will probably start walking in soon, though it probably won’t be many. Lancelot and Galahad you knew for sure, others you weren’t too certain about. ‘Morning Lancelot.’ You say as you hear the man walk in. ‘Agent Tristan.’ He greets. ‘Want some coffee?’ ‘Yes please.’ The smell of another fresh coffee fills the air. You smile as you hand him a cup. ‘You feeling alright?’ ‘I will once I finish this.’He groans before the two of you clink your cups. ‘See you at the briefing in an hour.’ 

You spent that hour with Merlin and Ares, mostly in silence. The Doberman is as happy as can be, with the Scot and you taking turns throwing a ball into the field and having the dog return it. It was nice spending time with your uncle like this. Usually you have to be  quite serious around him, as you mostly speak to him here, at Kingsman. Now, you can, even if it’s just for a moment, relax and have the relationship you used to have when you were younger and neither of you were a part of the secret service. ‘Uncle Hamish, we should probably get ready for the briefing.’ You say as Ares runs into the distance. He has his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun. ‘Just five more minutes; Galahad will be late anyway, he seemed a bit off yesterday evening when I saw him.’ That last comment piques your interest, but you decide not to pry. The meeting room was still empty when you walked into it with your uncle. A few minutes pass before, you are joined by Lancelot, who is, once again, talking excitedly. While you don’t necessarily have the energy for him, you stay professional and listen with intent. He is still talking your ears off when Galahad finally arrives, about five minutes late. Despite Merlin having made a comment, it is still quite unusual for him to be late. 

‘Glad you could join us, Agent Galahad.’ Merlin calls out from the far end of the room as the other man enters. ‘Terribly sorry for my tardiness.’ Harry excuses himself. ‘Morning Galahad.’ Lancelot greets him, instead you just wave at the agent. Everyone sits in their usual spots, with Galahad across from you and Merlin to your left, though he almost immediately stands up, walking in front of the screen which shows the most vital information related to the mission. Most of the information isn’t new to you, as you’d helped your uncle prepare. Whenever Galahad or Lancelot give additional information, which you hadn’t been able to gain before the meeting, you write it down into the report. Your attention is fully focussed on what everyone is saying, that is until you notice that Galahad’s eyes seem to linger on you a bit longer than usual whenever you make a comment. Eventually, his eyes meet yours. He quickly looks away and focuses on Merlin, who is saying something about the risks which may occur in the future. Yesterday’s mission has likely only slowed down the organisation, meaning that you’d still have to find its core and try to eliminate it. Still, all the new information which has been gained is quite useful. Your gaze reverts back to your laptop screen as you continue typing away. 

‘Agent Tristan, could you please explain to these gentlemen what you did to fully disarm and disable the system?’ Merlin’s sudden attention to you surprises you, but you stand up confidently and walk to his side. Galahad’s eyes seem to burn into the back of your head as you do so. ‘So how we did it is -’ Everything goes smoothly as you explain the process thoroughly to the other agents. Hopefully, you’ll be able to join them in the field next time, rather than having to sit and watch from the sidelines to assist them from a distance. You aren’t sure that’ll actually happen however, as it really depends on what kind of mission it’ll be and what is needed of you.  After a few minutes, you’re able to sit back down. Neither Lancelot, nor Galahad had any questions, which you assume is probably a good sign. There are only a few more things you need to discuss, with most of them only requiring only a little of your input from time to time, so you silently drink some tea as Lancelot and Merlin talk. Galahad is remarkably silent, only asking a few questions or making comments when he deems it necessary. Usually, he’s more talkative and tends to lead the conversation, but today he seems to have chosen to leave that to Lancelot. As your uncle is saying something about the implications of such an organisation having access to nuclear weapons, you feel another foot hit yours. At first, you ignore it; but when it happens again, you look around. It couldn’t be Merlin or Lancelot, leaving Galahad as the only suspect. You quickly look at his face but he acts as if he’s innocent. When you feel a third tap, you let your eyes meet his. The lines around his eyes crinkle mischievously, while the rest of his face doesn’t seem to change. You tap him back, your oxfords hitting the side of his silently. This time, his eyes do not divert to Merlin or Lancelot, and it almost feels as if you’re the only person in this room with him. The feeling is short lived however, with his gaze shifting away when his name is mentioned by one of the other men. Still, his foot remains in place, connecting the two of you. Despite the intimate gesture, his feelings for you remain unclear.

The meeting comes to an end, you and Galahad act as if nothing happened when you stand up. Everyone leaves the room and as he passes you, he slips a small folded note into your hand. You do not get a chance to read it though, as Merlin immediately starts up a conversation with you as you walk the wing of the mansion where the individual kingsman offices are located. ‘Tristan, could you send me the report after lunch?’ You nod. ‘As long as we’re going on a walk with Ares and Albion after, you know he’s missed you lately, and this morning wasn’t enough to make up for that.’ He laughs. ‘Of course.’ Together, you walk into Merlin’s office, where you quickly discuss the last few details before you leave for your own. There, you work on the report for a bit longer, adding the finishing touches before sending it to Merlin. Ares lays in the corner of your office, playing with one of his toys quietly. The folded piece of paper sits next to your keyboard, still not read. Once you’ve finally finished the report, you grab and slowly unfold it. Galahad’s handwriting is neat, but not delicate.

Tristan,

Meet me in the library at 21:00 tonight. 

Yours faithfully,

H

‘I suppose I’ll go read in the library tonight, Ares.’ You whisper before you put the note into your drawer and motion your dog to follow you to the kitchens to have lunch. He walks at your side when you enter, and calmly waits as you brew tea and make lunch. Once it’s ready, you decide to eat it outside, as the weather is quite nice today and Ares will be able to run around before you go for the walk with Merlin.  Half an hour passes before you’re joined by your uncle, who has his dog, Albion, with him. She’s a border collie who is usually quite serious and focused, but gets very excited when she gets to play with Ares. The two of them are best friends, so you and Merlin try to have them meet up and go on a long walk at least once a week. This doesn’t always happen though, as duty calls whenever it does, resulting in having to cancel quite frequently, which happened the past few weeks. Today isn't such a day though, and once you both finish your lunch, the four of you start walking your usual round around the grounds. You and Merlin chat away about anything and everything while Ares and Albion run around together and fetch a tennis ball from time to time. It’s calm and you’re enjoying yourself. It’s always quite nice to spend your time like this. All nice things must come to an end though, and after forty-five minutes of walking, you have to return to work.  ‘See you later Tristan.’ Merlin says before walking to his office, taking Albion with him. ‘Later.’ You wave before walking in the opposite direction. Galahad hadn’t been there when you returned from your walk, so you assume he’s at the shop to get a few things in order. It’s probably for the better, as you aren’t sure what you would do if you were to cross him in the hallway right now. He’s constantly giving you mixed signals. Yesterday, he seemed to lean in to kiss you before pulling away suddenly. Today, he almost continuously avoided your gaze, yet wanted to stay connected in some way that wasn’t visible to others, and he wrote you a note telling you to meet him later.

‘Fuck.’

You whisper to yourself. You’re falling for him, hard. You have been for a long time. You always told yourself it was merely a crush, but you’re unable to deny it any longer. This revelation isn’t your biggest problem though. Your biggest problem is whether he would even be interested, as he’s constantly giving those mixed signals. Tonight you’d decide whether you’ll ever act upon your feelings or not. You’d never particularly cared for the kingsman code which prohibits any relationships, though it hasn’t been necessary for you to break it either, as you hadn’t been interested in any relationships in the first place. Kingsman always comes first in your life. This means that you’ve never actually taken the time to think of finding a partner or date around. What you are worried about, is that Galahad is someone that always follows the rules and doesn’t even think about bending, let alone breaking, them. This may be an explanation for him being so hot and cold with you. Still, it’s confusing and worries you. ‘Good afternoon agent Tristan, is everything alright?’ Arthur greeting you pulls you out of your thoughts and you realise you’re standing in front of the door which leads into your office, your hand on the doorknob. You have probably been standing there for a couple of minutes now. Quickly you turn the knob and start walking in.  ‘Ah yes Arthur, I was just lost in thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to attend to.’  You smile at him before swiftly closing the door once Ares has entered the room as well. 

The evening couldn’t come soon enough. Thinking of whatever Galahad could possibly tell you continued racing through your mind the entire afternoon, meaning that you were quite distracted for the most part. Merlin visited you shortly before dinner to discuss the report and what he altered before sending it off to Arthur. While he clearly noticed that you were distracted, he decided against saying anything about it and left. Shortly thereafter, you decided it’d be a good idea to go for another walk with Ares, as it’s a good way of distancing yourself from the setting in which you usually see Galahad. This time, though, the walk lasts for several hours, with the sun starting to set once you start heading back to HQ.  When you arrive back at HQ, it’s nearly nine, so you decide to bring the Doberman to your office before heading to the library. Galahad, or Harry which you rarely ever refer to him as, is already there, waiting for you. He turns to face you and smiles when you enter before greeting you. ‘I’m glad you could make it agent Tristan.’ You nod nervously but try to sound casual. ‘Of course, any time, Galahad.’ His eyes look over your form and you do the same. The tension between the two of you is palpable but you try to ignore it as best as you can. For a moment, nothing happens. The both of you stay still, frozen in place.  Suddenly Galahad moves again and walks up to you. In a moment of passion, he grabs your face and kisses you deeply. It’s so intense it feels as if he’s bruising your lips. When you don’t move, he starts pulling back. Quickly, you pull him to you once more and kiss back, one of your hands in his hair and the other pulling his tie. The two of you fight for dominance and he pushes you against one of the bookshelves, his left hand now resting on your hip.  Eventually, he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed. For minutes, the two of you stand like this, silently enjoying each other's presence and closeness. ‘Tristan.’ He whispers. ‘Yes Galahad?’ The man sighs and slowly leaves your embrace. ‘Shit.’ You hear him mutter under his breath. ‘Shit shit shit.’ He backs away, as if he’s only just realised what happened. ‘Galahad, what’s going on?’ ‘I cannot do this Tristan.’ His voice sounds almost desperate. ‘Galahad, what do you mean you cannot do this?’ He doesn’t reply and walks away, leaving you alone in the library.

You didn’t see Galahad the rest of that week and you threw yourself into work, only leaving your office to go out with Ares. If you hadn’t had him, you probably wouldn’t have left your office in the first place. That Friday morning, Merlin comes in unannounced and finds you sleeping with your head on your desk. He wakes you and you slowly sit up straight. Your suit jacket is discarded somewhere in a corner and you look a bit of a mess with your hair all dishevelled.  ‘Are you sure you’re feeling alright Tristan? You really shouldn’t be overworking yourself.’ Your uncle asks you, he sounds quite worried. ‘I’m fine Merlin, I promise.’ He sighs. ‘You do not look or act as if you’re fine. What’s going on?’ You just shake your head. ‘It’s nothing really, I’ve just had to catch up on some work. Please don’t fret it.’  ‘We both know that’s a lie, Tristan. You’re always ahead of everyone when it comes to paperwork.’ He stops for a moment. ‘Look, both you and Galahad have been acting off all week and we can’t have that. I don’t know if there’s anything going on between the two of you, but I want you to fix it, especially if it’s affecting you like this.’ His voice is stern. ‘You should go talk to Galahad then, I’m not the guilty one here.’ You stand up for the first time in what feels like years, your knees and back hurting with every move. ‘I don’t have the energy for all this, go talk to him if you want to know more.’ Silently, you usher him out of your office and shut the door behind him. While you love your uncle, you really couldn’t deal with this right now.

The scotch in the corner of your office had been a little too appealing. That combined with the very limited amount of food you’d had over the past few days, made it very easy for you to become drunk. You sit in your chair feeling very sorry for yourself, as you do in such situations. ‘You know Ares, I’ll go talk to that asshole. He kisses me like that and then he avoids me all week. I suppose that’s not very gentlemanly of him.’ Standing up, you feel dizzy and you have to grab a hold of your desk to keep standing. The world seems to be turning and Ares looks to have multiple heads. ‘Fuck.’ You hadn’t realised how badly the scotch had affected you. Still, that didn’t stop you, and you stumble through your office door. The hallway is empty when you enter it, as is usual at this time of night in HQ. Galahad’s office is only a few doors down and you try to walk there as normally as you can. Taking a deep breath, you knock multiple times. When there’s no immediate answer, you knock again, but more loudly. ‘Galahad, I know you’re in there.’ Your voice is loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the door, but not loud enough to wake any of the other kingsmen. Though they probably wouldn’t wake up unless you screamed loudly enough for it to reach the other side of the estate. Moments pass, but the door is eventually opened by the agent. ‘Tristan.’ He greets you solemnly. ‘I need to talk to you, you pretentious asshole.’ The words fall out of your mouth and there is no stopping them. ‘You are no gentleman. You invite someone to talk to them alone after MONTHS, LITERAL MONTHS, of looking at each other longingly and flirting, then kiss them in the way you did and JUST WALK AWAY LIKE THAT?????’ He finally looks up at you and realises the state that you’re in. ‘WHAT IN THE HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU INCOMPETENT PRICK????’ You jab your finger into his chest. ‘Tristan, you are in no state to discuss this, please go to bed.’ He grabs your hand. ‘YES I AM, I AM A GROWN ADULT THAT CAN MAKE THEIR OWN DECISIONS. YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER.’ ‘Yes you are, but you’re currently incapable of making any good decisions. So, please quiet down before you wake up Mr. Pickle.’ Before you’re able to respond, he grabs you and surprisingly easily throws you over his shoulder. ‘Now, I’ll be escorting you to bed, as you don’t seem to be capable of doing that yourself.’ He completely ignores your protests, which continue for about five minutes before you realise there’s nothing you can do about this situation. He only puts you down when you’re in front of your bedroom door, as he needs you to open it. ‘I’m going to put you down, but please stay quiet. I don’t want you to wake everyone up.’ You nod and mutter to yourself as he puts you down. ‘Still an asshole though.’ He laughs to himself. When you finally have both your feet on the ground again, you’re stable momentarily before you start falling over again. Galahad notices and steadies you by grabbing your shoulders. ‘Careful now, sweetness.’ His lips touch the shell of your ear and you slowly feel yourself going red. You ignore it though, steadying yourself with his help before walking to your door and unlocking it. When you try to open it you almost fall into your own room and so Harry catches you, before the world around you slowly goes dark.

The following morning you wake up in your own bed, not remembering how you got there in the first place. Ares sits next to your bed, looking up at you as you wake. ‘Morning, my boy.’ Your voice sounds more like a groan than anything else. He nudges your arm and softly barks when you eventually sit up. The light hurts your eyes as you look around, so you close your eyes and lay back down. Once you finally open them again, you notice that there’s a glass of water and a pack of paracetamol next to your bed. ‘Who put that there?’ You look at Ares and pet him before taking one of the pills followed by a gulp of water. The headache you have is slowly driving you insane, so hopefully this’ll help. Still, it remains unclear who actually put it there after probably finding you in quite the state. Usually, you could easily hold your liquor, but apparently your body had other plans yesterday. You do realise that you’re still in your clothes from the day before. So, you decide to get out of them and put on something more comfortable before calling Merlin. ‘Morning Merlin.’ Your voice is quite hoarse. ‘Ah Tristan, I was wondering when you’d call.’ He sounds quite amused for some unknown reason. ‘What do you mean?’ The Scot laughs. ‘Well, I got a notification earlier this morning that you’d be out of the office today because you’re ill. Thing is, agent Galahad is the one who notified me, which is a bit odd to be honest.’ You groan. ‘Well he’s right about me not feeling well.’ Slowly, you lay back in your bed.  Merlin didn’t talk to you for much longer after that and he remained quite vague about what Galahad had told him about the night before. Despite you desperately wanting to know what had happened the night before, you decided that would be a problem for tomorrow before heading back to sleep.

That night, a knock wakes you from your slumber. You almost jump out of your bed at the sound, scaring Ares a bit. ‘One moment please.’ You shout at the person behind the door before calming your dog. ‘I should take you out for a walk in a few, shouldn’t I? I’m so sorry Ares.’ After whispering that, you stand up and walk to your door. Opening it slowly, you reveal Merlin’s form. ‘Good evening Tristan.’ He smiles. ‘Thought I’d bring you some dinner.’ The tray he’s holding has a plate with a baked potato, some carrots and broccoli, and some beef, accompanied by a large glass of water and a cup of your favourite tea. He walks in once you’ve further opened your door, putting the tray on the small table that stands in the corner of your room. ‘Do sit down.’ His voice is soft. You do so silently, Ares laying down next to you. ‘Thank you.’ Your voice is soft and you start eating your first meal of the day. Merlin sits down across from you. ‘I do hope this was a one time thing, Tristan.’ He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand. ‘It won’t happen again, sir.’ Your voice can barely be heard from across the table. ‘Look, you’ve been doing flawlessly so far, so getting drunk and insulting go Galahad isn’t something that’ll affect you or your career in any way. It can, however, have an effect on how well you’re able to work with him in the foreseeable future.’ Your eyes don’t meet his. ‘Now that I’ve scolded you for getting drunk and acting in the way you did, I would like to know why. Harry hasn’t wanted to tell me anything and I’m against just checking your glasses if I can ask you.’ Your plate is only half finished but you’re already full and you put down your cutlery. ‘I’m not sure you want to know.’ Leaning back, you make yourself more comfortable in your chair. ‘Galahad has really said nothing?’ He shakes his head. ‘Well then, I suppose I’ll tell you what’s going on; under the condition that this will strictly stay between the two of us. Not even Galahad can know.’  ‘Why are you being so secretive about this?’ He enquires. ‘You’ll understand once you hear the full story. Now do you promise?’ You hold out your hand with your pinky ready for him to intertwine with. And he does. ‘I promise.’ A smile creeps onto  your face. This is something you’d always done with him when it comes to promises, starting when you were just a little kid. ‘So, as you may have noticed the past few weeks, there’s been some tension between me and Galahad, or Harry.’  You start. ‘But this has been an underlying issue for years now -‘ 

That night Merlin listened as you talked about how the situation between you and Galahad had unfolded over the past few years and more in detail about the past week or two. Understandably, it was quite a bit for him to take in, and at first he wasn’t certain how to feel or respond. If you hadn’t been who you are to him, he would’ve been fine with it. But with the familial ties you have, and the fact that he and Galahad are best friends, made him hesitate. Yet, he promises to keep quiet and have you and the other man resolve it by yourselves. He would, however, urge his friend to do so if the issue isn’t resolved within a week, meaning that you’ll have to hurry up when it comes to talking things out. He did make clear that he isn’t against you having a relationship with the older man, his tone may have even been slightly supportive, which was somewhat unexpected.

The next time you finally see Harry it’s Sunday. Exactly three days since you’d last seen him and had had the drunken encounter. There you stood, in front of his apartment, your heart pounding in your throat. He’d been at the shop the past few days while you were at the mansion. Merlin was quite convinced that Galahad was, in fact, avoiding you, so he’d suggested you go visit him that evening. Well, suggested was quite a loose term in this case. It was more that Merlin just dropped you off here and told you to ‘Go ahead and talk it out’. Obviously, this was his way of forcing you to do so, as he is quite sick of having the two of you avoiding each other.

Finally, you ring the doorbell and you stand there waiting nervously for Galahad to answer. He does after a few minutes and the confusion is quite evident on his face. When he doesn’t say anything, you start talking. ‘Sorry to bother you Galahad, but Merlin’s dropped me off so we can talk things out.’ You smile sheepishly and he sighs before letting you in.  You have never been inside his home before, so you look around curiously as he leads you into his kitchen. He was wearing his usual attire, save for the glasses. Apparently, he had been cooking dinner when you rang his doorbell. As you look around the room, not moving, he clears his throat. ‘Would you like to join me for dinner Tristan?’ The question is logical, yet you aren’t certain whether he actually wants you to join or if he’s asking it out of obligation. You’re hoping it’s the former rather than the latter. ‘If you don’t mind. Otherwise we can talk and then I’ll leave, I don’t wish to intrude Galahad.’ He motions you to sit down. ‘I would love for you to join me, I’m almost finished cooking dinner anyway, so do feel free to have a seat.’ When you do so, he turns around to face the stove once again before finishing dinner. It is a simple yet delicious meal, and you appreciate the gesture of him inviting you to join him. It is mostly spent in silence, save for a few comments appreciating his skill, or talking about the goings on at the shop and HQ. 

After dinner, Harry offers you a cup of tea before pouring one for himself and sitting down across from you. It is silent for a few minutes before he finally speaks again. ‘I would like to apologise.’ His voice is soft. ‘I should’ve handled this situation differently and not have run away in the way I did.’ As he says this, his eyes divert. ‘It is just that I was, and still am, quite uncertain of how to go about this. I do not wish to hurt you, but in my attempt to do so I did the opposite of what I had intended. I thought you were too pure, too kind. You’re too sweet, too sweet for a bitter man like me. Yet here I am, madly in love with you and confessing my feelings.’ When he finishes talking he looks you in the eye once more. There’s emotion in them, seemingly a mix of sadness and regret. ‘Galahad, I don’t know what to say.’ You pause. ‘I understand why you may have hesitated to approach me in the way you did, however, I am quite confused as to why you ran away so suddenly. You are the one that made the initial move and I never approached you because you were likely to have reservations about breaking kingsman code, yet you gave me hope by inviting me to the library to talk. And for a moment, when you kissed me, I thought we could be together, even if it was just for a moment.’ Slowly, you stand up from your chair. Putting down your cup of tea in the process. ‘Then you went ahead and ripped my heart out by walking away like that. As if I mean nothing to you, as if you weren’t the one that made the first move.’ You raise your voice a bit, but try to stay calm. Following your example, he stands up as well and starts walking towards you. ‘I truly am sorry but it is up to you whether or not you forgive me.’ He looks down into your eyes. ‘What will happen if I forgive you, Harry?’ The two of you are almost touching each other, only a few centimetres between your faces. ‘I shall take you on a date and be your partner. That is, if you’ll have me.’ Rather than answering him with words, you pull his tie and kiss him passionately.

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

APRICITY: flame of eternal winter | KTH | TEASER

apricity. (n) the warm of the sun during winter.

Pairing: deaf! partially blind! Taehyung x fem! Reader

Summary: It’s been 300 years since the world as we knew it, had ended. Man’s own creation had taken over society, forcing the people to go into hiding. At least those who were not deemed “worthy” of living in the machines’ perfect city.  Three hundred years of eternal coldness. Three hundred years of living in fear, with the threat of death at the corner. But even in that eternal winter, a flower bloomed in between the chaos. Or in which you escape your supposedly perfect life and find yourself in the arms of Kim Taehyung. A man whose soul was more beautiful than the stars above the sky. A forbidden love. A protected chaos. And a story that should have ended with a kiss rather than bitter tears. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, character death, heavy angst, dystopian! AU, artificial intelligence controls the world, futuristic! AU, death, blood, warm love, age gap, this story touches themes of physical disabilities as well as heavy discrimination, (more will be added with the entire story)

Word Count: 800 words (for the teaser)

In many ways, in many forms existed love. 

In many stories, in many dreams there were feelings. 

A human attachment. A soft design of the human heart. 

You hummed to yourself as you sat down against the naked cherry tree. It was still beautifully mesmerising to you how people managed to live like this. Underground. Hiding from the machines that threatened to kill them if they were to step foot outside. You still wondered how people had adapted so quickly to living like this, always in the shadows of the eternal winter that had fallen over this world. 

You felt Taehyung’s presence next to you before he sat down, offering you a warm smile as he leaned back against the tree, his leg touching yours and you sighed at the simplicity of this happiness you were feeling. 

“You looked lonely.”

He spoke. His voice was deep and soothing you couldn’t help the calm smile that stretched over your lips. You turned to look at him, eyes meeting his own as you lost yourself in his dark galaxy and crystal ocean of secrets and desires. 

“I was thinking.”

He read your lips as you spoke. Wishing for nothing else to hear your voice over all the sounds that existed around him yet he was unaware of their nature. How he wished he could listen to you talk during dinner or softly humming to yourself as you cooked something for him. He wanted to listen to you read to him before going to sleep, he wanted to listen to the words you spoke, not just read them through the soft movement of your kissable lips. 

“You never told me how it was.”

Your head tilted and he continued, breaking eye contact as he looked beyond the vastness of the underground forest. 

“You never speak of your life up there, in the High Ground. I know nothing of your past.”

His eyes met yours once more in a dance of emotions you couldn’t grasp. His blue eye felt like an open window to his soul, the key to his hidden secrets even if the world wasn’t seen through that beautiful blue ocean of his. While his brown eye, dark in its own perfection. Sincere in its own gaze, awaited for you to speak so that he could read. Awaited your answer. Patiently. 

“It’s not something I’m proud of, nor something that joys me to remember.”

Taehyung grabbed your hand in his larger palm, a silent way of telling you it was alright. A silent way of saying he understood, at least to an extent. You squeezed his hand in quiet thankfulness. He knew it must not be easy to remember your prior life, your calculated and cold life. 

To some point, he knew. He understood why you were so closed-off with your past. The machines had taken control of the world. Discarding those who were “unworthy” of living in their “perfect paradise” or the High Ground as they called it. How ironic it had been for humanity to succumb to their own creation. 

But even in the end of the world, you gave Taehyung hope in a hopeless life. He gave you warmth in an icy existence. And together, you both completed each other in a way you never thought possible of actually existing. You lost yourself in his mesmerising eyes, the most beautiful pair of eyes you had ever seen were Taehyung’s to own. How dare the machines, the Governing Entity, disregard such beauty from being worthy of living? How dare a heartless robot dictate who was allowed to live? Why did a thing decide over a human's fate?

You had found such beauty in the Underground you never wanted to go back up there to a city that was mathematically perfect, with apparently perfect people that lived supposedly perfect lives. That kind of perfection was a raw illusion, the beauty you had found under those ideal houses was a rough beauty. A natural beauty you couldn’t even think of letting go. 

Taehyung has become your home, your safety, your paradise. He had welcomed you into his life with open arms when you were a stranger to his people, to his own heaven. But he allowed you to understand his way of living. He gave you a choice and you chose to stay by his side. 

Forever. 

Or at least, for as long as you two loved each other for he often says that love wins it all.

A/N: Hi, darlings! Sooo this was highly inspired by IU's song "Love wins all" ft. Taehyung and, well this came out. I really hope you will like it and are excited to read this Tae dystopian! AU. 

This story will be exclusive for my Golden Darlings on Ko-Fi, here's the link if you are interested in supporting me with the Golden Membership, darlings!

January/26/2024

[taraa-dactyl]

Aftermath

Read chapter 2 here -> expedition

A/N -> This is the first time I'm actually publishing my writing because this stupid blue dude got me fucked up.

Summary -> Your actions during the Human-Na’vi war lead to your exile from your clan and you’re forced to connect with a certain Olo’eyktan.

Pairing -> Jake Sully X Reader

Word count -> 3.6k

The battlefield raged below you, Na’vi and humans assault each other with their varied weapons. Explosions boomed in the distance, and leaves above your head rattled violently in the wind produced by the sky people aircrafts.

“This is what Tayrangi has trained for…the greatest battle of your life is fast approaching,” Ikeyni whispered to you, hiding behind the trunk of a tree not even fifty metres from the battlefield. She broke from her sentence to shoot an arrow with a speed you had only seen a handful of times. You took in her form as she leaned against the trunk again, pure precision as she calculated when to strike and when to duck behind the tree.

“I’m proud to be one with the clan, give me your orders and I will follow them.” You reassured. 

A Samson aircraft approaches, your ears prick up before they can get the jump on you. Your crossbow at the ready, wood biting into your palms, and the arrow laced with poison embedded itself in the chest of the pilot. Which would kill him regardless of its landing. 

Ikeyni’s painted eyes narrowed on you, “You know the terrain, any week and strong points, I have new orders for you,” She said decisively. You’ve shot another arrow before she can finish her sentence. Fire and smoke consumed the forest behind you, the neons looked significantly duller.

“I need you at the tree of souls, I have received word that the Omatikaya are gathered there to pray to Eywa. I need your word that you will protect the new Olo’eyktan, Tsu’tey. As Tayrangi is sister to the Omatikaya, you must defend them.” Her sharp eyes held yours, you felt yourself shrink but covered it up. Regardless of your time spent with the Tayrangi and training under Ikeyni, you hadn’t grown accustomed to the ruthless and levelheaded woman.

A bow of your head is the only confirmation she needed before you stood from your squat and clicked your tongue before letting out a loud chirp. Your Ikran, Ta’ra swooped into view her teal and pink wings flapped lightly next to the tree. You leapt onto the stretched skin of her wing and climbed onto the saddle situated on her mid-back. You took a steep dive into the forest, away from the gunfire, toward the masses of people gathered under the tree of souls, slowing for the familiar man to mount your Ikran behind you before banking to the left. Two arrows were shot from behind you, and landed neatly in the skulls of the humans below. You made multiple rounds of the battlefield, killing the attackers in herds but still didn’t see a mass improvement.

The two of you were closer than ever to the human base known as ‘Hell’s Gate.’ Both of you worked to disable as much of the giant machinery parked on the runway, which no doubt awaited orders to join the assault on your people. Your barrage ended as you landed on a thick branch in view of the base. Fires started in each compound, You watched as humans came running out into the hanger. They didn’t let up the assault, bullets whizzed past your ears and embedded into the bark of the tree. A bullet implanted itself between Tsu’tey’s ear and the trunk of the tree, Your ears pinned back against your skull as you heard chatter over the static-y radio, hoping to pick up any information before they were able to use it to their advantage.

“Eyes in the sky, be on the lookout, he’s got red beaded hair, riding on an Ikran.” Your heart skipped a beat out of nervousness as you realised Tsu’tey was being targeted due to his status as Olo’eyktan.

An assault of bullets flew in your direction as your Ikran made her way to the other side of the base, your rounded eyes took in the scene before you. War raged on both sides of the conflict, bodies dropped left and right. A hole was blown in the middle of the building on the base, not a person left in the facility other than a small bundle left in a cradle, parked in the centre of the room. A barrage of bullets aimed your way missed the three of you by a hair, you let out a gasp at the bundle laying in the crib.

You circled the building once more, watching the fire slowly spread from the edges of the building. Your heart shattered for the abandoned child, your strong ears heard its cries calling out. Ta’ra landed roughly in a clearing in view of the base, your woven armor took the brunt of the gunfire. You saw the machinery gaining ground and slaughtering your people, you felt the pain of your people but it didn't distract from the image of the crying child, alone with flames slowly consuming them. 

Tsu’tey must have felt your emotions radiating off you as he cleared his throat. “Leave me, rescue the child and keep it away from harm.” He stated, with no room for argument, it didn’t stop you from trying.

“No, I am under strict orders to escort you, to not leave your side, and there is no way from my Ikran to get in there.” You couldn’t meet his eyes as you contemplated what he had said.

“The Dreamwalkers have taught me the human ways, similar to the Na’vi way. They say life is sacred, especially the innocent, especially children.” His voice rumbled from behind you, a disapproving stare heated the back of your head. You knew you wanted to retrieve the child and it’s what you thought was moral.

You let out a sigh as you contemplated what you were about to do. Your gut had two instincts; One that you should go after the child, and Two that you shouldn’t leave Tsu’tey.

Ta’ra perched once again on a branch, you and Tsu’tey were quick to dismount, sharing a final raw look as you both gestured to each other. 

"Oel ngati kameie.” I see you

You ducked under low-hanging branches that had fallen during the battle and climbed over debris before you arrived at the building that was going up in flames, smoke rose into the sky as an impending warning, which almost dissuaded you from going inside. Nonetheless, you scaled the scrap metal along the side of the building, avoiding the exposed wires as they sparked and fizzled every few seconds.

Your form casted a shadow on the weeping child as you leaned over the edge of the crater blown in the roof. The child cried and whined out for anyone to protect them, the thought of the scientists and military deserting the helpless baby was a haunting image.

You gathered the small bundle in your arms and gently hushed and bounced the child in the hopes to quiet their wails. Your eyes welled with tears as the smoke consumed the room, your eyes caught the name Miles scrawled across the sign on the front of the crib. You quickly heaved yourself up onto the nearest bench to the exit through the ceiling. Your muscles flexed as you climbed through the opening, doing your best to hold the child to your chest, and made the trek back down the building.

Relief washed over you when your feet met the ground, now that the child was safe from harm you had to find the group of scientists Jake Sully trusted, and could hand over the child. You called for Ta’ra who followed your chirps and whoops to your location, finally you climbed on her back carefully, one arm cradled the babe to your chest as the other attached your queues. You scoured the battlefield for the scientists, spotting them not far from your previous location. 

The handoff was seamless as you explained the situation as quickly as possible, antsy to get back to your set mission, your mind was still on the battlefield, on your duties and strikes that were yet to be executed.

The forest was almost silent, shrouded in thick smoke, ash blew on the wind as the immediate consequence of the war.

Your ears zeroed in on Ikeyni’s familiar ululating calls for help throughout the forest, your heart sunk, you knew someone had to be injured. Your strong strides carried you to the group huddled around the body lying on the forest floor. Your breath caught  in your throat and  feline-like eyes widened in horror at the scene. 

Tsu’tey’s war paint was broken up by the crimson blood smattered across his face, the rest of his body in a similar fashion. Mo’at hovered over him, binding the open wounds but by her expression you knew it was all in vain. Through the haze of pain he looked past Jake Sully and nodded to you. The understanding in his eyes did nothing to quell the storm raging inside you. His final words were wheezed out to Jake Sully.

“Set my spirit free.” Your eyebrows pinched together and you forced down your shaky breath. Jake protests Tsu’tey’s decision, his final words were weak yet thick with emotion. Any words exchanged were blocked out by the ringing in your ears, you stared as Jake Sully leaned over the Olo’eyktan, his shadow shrouded his actions but when he pulled back from the body, you gazed at the red pooling down his body, Tsu’tey’s glazed-over eyes stared blankly into the sky, the Na’vi’s prayers for the dead echos through the solemn forest.

The war was over, Tsu’tey was long gone and the new Na’vi, previously Dreamwalker, Jakesully became the new Olo’eyktan. The Omatikaya returned to Hell’s Gate to escort the sky people to their ships to return to their planet. The evicted parties were sullen and angry and you didn’t miss the look their leader shared with Jake Sully.

You and some of the remaining Tayrangi joined them, as you watched the human’s ship leave the atmosphere a sense of relief was present, cheering and whoops almost drowned out the engine of the ship. A select few of the non-violent humans were invited to stay on Pandora, there were no arguments against this decision and thankfully no further conflict.

Ikeyni instructed you and the other Tayrangi to return to Omatikaya’s new home, you agreed to her orders, it wasn’t like you would disagree as you could barely meet her eye since your return without Tsu’tey. Their temporary home was a stone's throw from Hell’s Gate, where a ceremony was swiftly organised to transfer Jake Sully to his Avatar body and become a full Na’vi.

Days passed as the Omatikaya rebuilt and settled into their new home. The camp was bustling as hunters returned with the spoils of the day, children roamed free, laughing and playing in the new terrain. You kept to yourself, not wanting to meet the scorn of your fellow clan members whilst you awaited new orders from Ikeyni. Tonight the clan leaders were meeting for who knows what about, despite being invited to the meeting. A nervousness clouded over your whole day and by nightfall the community had gathered around the fire as they ate, sung, and talked about the events of the day. 

The meeting was scheduled for now when it was less likely for anyone passing by to overhear the contents of the meeting. You perched outside the tent awaiting for orders to enter, when you heard your name called you were hasty to pull apart the cloth barrier. Jake Sully’s eyes caught yours as recognition fell over his face and you’re brought back to days before in the forest as you saw Tsu’tey’s eyes glaze over. You almost have to shake your head to rid the memory.

The atmosphere was tense and despite your warrior background, you shrunk under the gaze of the two Olo’eyktans. 

“Thank you for joining us, I was just discussing with Toruk Makto the terms of your agreement with Omatikaya.” Arrangement? Surely she couldn’t be talking about your birth clan, you were more Tayrangi now than you ever were Omatikaya, you had been welcomed into the clan within the first few weeks of living with them.

“You are no longer needed with the Tayrangi, you will return to your home clan and you are relieved of your role as chief. You will no longer hunt, even with Omatikaya, you are stripped of your armour and are to return to civilian life.” It was a punch to the gut, in no way could you have prepared yourself for this, despite knowing you would receive punishment for your actions during the war you didn't expect such a severe response.

Your lip quivered before she got out the first sentence and you hated yourself for the blatant display of emotion. You were chief for god-sake who would respect a warrior that immediately broke? But you were no longer a chief, you had to remind yourself. So what were you?

Ikeyni’s words were nauseating, she watched as you processed her words and beat you to the punch before you could argue with her.

“It is already done.” grief gripped you and you resigned yourself to your fate, you swallowed down your pride and tried anyway, begging. 

“Fighting is all I know, I was born into it, bread for it, and you mean to tell me I am being punished for a tragedy, something out of my hands? Who am I if I cannot hunt?” It came out as a whisper, raw emotion in front of these powerful Olo’eyktans, but there was no pity for you and Jake Sully was merely a voyeur in the conversation.

“The alliance between Tayrangi and Omatikaya is over as the sky people are gone. We will remain civil but no longer deploy warriors between the clans. You are to be with your birth clan, we thank you for your service.” You scavenged your thoughts for any argument that could prevent you from the inevitable, Ikeyni’s form retreated, a sour reminder there was no room for argument.

You caught Jake Sully’s eyes for a moment, an emotion neither of you could put your finger on shared between you both, before you followed your previous Olo’eyktan outside, into a huddle of the remaining Tayrangi. Your armour was stripped in front of their eyes, piece by piece landing in a pile on the ground as shame and humiliation clouded you.

The decision had been made and there was no fight left in you. Your teary stare landed on the pile throughout the ritual but by the end, you met Ikeyni’s indifferent gaze.

You stumbled away from the group holding back the tears that had been brewing, you forced them down due to the numbness that steamrolled any other feelings you had. You stared at the eclipse in the sky wishing that this wasn’t real, that it was some nightmare your brain had conjured up. hadn’t you given enough, paid enough for your actions? The image of Tsu’tey’s empty stare at the same eclipse you look at as he lay on the forest ground, succumbing to his wounds has haunted your dreams every night since the war. The crimson stains on his body and your hands burned into your memory, you figured a lifetime of hunting and preparing for war would have prepared you for this. You felt fragile, the only one haunted by the demons that had invaded your home.

Your vantage point offered you the view of the remaining Tayrangi gathered around their Ikrans on a cliff near camp, as they readied their saddles for the flight back home.

Guilt racked your frame as you realised you’d delayed their return back to their families, and you wouldn't journey back to see the familiar faces and friends that had been by your side for the past few years. Knowing looks were sent your way, embarrassment heated you all over. Within the hour the Tayrangi had said their goodbyes to the Omatikaya, who returned with thanks for their support during the fight. You had sequestered yourself from both clans until Ikeyni pulled you aside one final time.

“This is not the end of us, I will return soon to check on you and the skxqwng Jake Sully, who will most likely need some guidance in his Olo’eyktan duties, perhaps in my absence you may fill the role.” You wanted to snort at that, you wanted nothing less to do with the man as he served as a constant reminder of the Olo’eyktan you had killed. You gave no response other than a silent nod. You and the Omatikaya watched the Ikrans fly off into the horizon until they were nothing more than a spec in the distance, and you were alone, in a clan that you had not been a part of since a babe.

Though you were in your birth clan, it’d been years since you were a part of the Omatikaya. Whilst you felt like an outsider it was comforting knowing that this was also their new home since the destruction of Hometree, they’d done their best to make this camp liveable whilst searching for a new Hometree to claim. Hammocks strung from the low-hanging branches and torches were embedded every few metres; their way of life had not changed despite the change in habitat.

The communal fire burned bright at the base of the largest tree in the area as families gathered around its warmth. You kept to the outside of the circle, not joining in on the conversation around you as you thought about the interactions you had with Ikeyni earlier in the day. The harsh look on her face is not one you would forget soon, and the disappointment in you that she undoubtedly harboured. 

You were zoned out observing the flames until the whispers met your twitching ears and you couldn't take another bite of your food, “...Killed Tsu’tey…” “Shame to the Tayrangi” “Murderer.” You felt the guilt and anger at yourself deep down, but somehow on the surface level it was just numbness. 

A gasp ripped from your throat as a larger frame settled into a squat next to you, a muscular bicep pressed firmly against yours before they readjusted their position. You looked to your right but your eye line only met his shoulder before you looked up to meet the golden eyes of Jake Sully’s. The flames of the fire bathed him in a warm glow that made him and his eyes look enchanting, and you hated yourself for thinking it. 

“How are you settling in?” His voice was husky and commanding, he seemed so suave as he questioned you and smiled at other clan members around the fire.

You were not quite sure how to answer as you’d only been there a few hours and had barely interacted with other clan members.

“It’s…very different from when I was a child, I suppose I have you to thank for that.” You didn’t mean for it to come off accusatory but it did, he looked at you with amusement and snorted his way into his next sentence.

“I didn’t mean for all of this to happen,” He looked around at the gathering. “To completely up-root these people's lives and to suddenly be looked to as a leader. I am no leader but I’m honouring a promise, something you know about.” He nudged your shoulder. 

You wished you could take solace in this interaction, the first person to show you kindness since your return, but a bitter taste in your mouth brought you back to your actions from days ago. It was baffling how little interaction you had with the other Omatikaya clan members since the war as you knew people definitely remembered you just as you remembered them, but sharp looks were sent your way the second you attempted to speak to them. You had to admit Tsu-tey had dedicated supporters.

“I have no opinion on your leadership style Jake Sully.” It’s decisive. 

“Call me Jake.” He asked for your name in return and he pondered the phonetics of it before deciding he liked the sound of it.

“You know I could use your expertise in terms of Olo’eyktan duties, I’m gonna need a right hand when it comes to making decisions.” Your mind was so numb from the days' events you couldn’t even comprehend what he asked of you. You could only stare as he awaited your response.

His cocky smile wasn’t infuriating, more welcoming and secure. One of his eyebrows raised, surprisingly hairy but you could account that on his human genetics. What caught your eye is the tiny white flecks dotted along his face, the constellations making indistinguishable patterns that you would love to spend time trying to decipher. 

“I do not plan on being here long Jakesully, you have no use for me.” You’re headstrong, he’d give you that.

“Well I hate to twist the knife but this is your home now. It’s best if you try and make it comfortable for yourself.” He’d nearly finished his plate, mopping up the leftover grease. 

“I’ll entertain the thought, if I’m here longer than a week you will have your answer then.” You compromise. He stood up from his squat, knees cracking as he did and you had to stifle a laugh. 

“Less than a week.” He assures before walking off into the crowd, greeting people as he parted through.

You were getting out of here if it’s the last thing you do, you didn’t even need the chief  title at this rate, just to hunt and be a warrior. You thought back to Ikeyni’s parting words, “ I will return soon to check on you and the skxqwng Jake Sully.” She was bound to return within the same month to meet with him, what better chance would you have if you were the right hand of the Olo’eyktan? You had your answer.

[psalacanthea]

A Sky of Shattered Stars- 11: Blood for Blood

what? Yeah. Another chapter of the Hawke x Varric fic (it was almost done, lol). Kirkwall welcomes her Champion home from the Fade with another assassination attempt. Well, assassination attempt against Varric, which is the same exact thing as attacking Hawke.

Fic Found Here!

(there's a short prequel and some DA2 bits too in the series)

...

Hawke was starting to feel the poison.

Knowing she probably had less than an hour to make an antidote, she surged forward, pushing her way into the assassin moving for her from across the hall.  They’d gone in Varric’s room.  Rage and adrenaline driving her forward, she ran straight into their knife before it could aim at anything more deadly.  It sank into her shoulder with a pain that only drove her on; it just fed the fire inside her.

The most important thing was to take the assassin down fast.  Using her body weight and her momentum, she surged across the hall without stopping, dragging the charging assassin with her.  Viciously, Hawke slammed them into the wall next to the door across the hall, the stiletto in her shoulder scraping bone, piercing through to the other side.  She trapped it with her body.

The blade was inside her– it was hers now.

Eyes met hers, recognition in them; too bad she had no idea who this man was.

“You’re dead.”

“No, you are,” she hissed, tasting blood as it dripped down her sliced lip.  And then she smiled, all bloody teeth.  The cut in her lip split, but that was just more pain to add to the adrenaline.  “Your only chance.  Who?!”  Her voice scaled up, a snarl, feral and protective and ready to rip out throats.  “Who wants to kill Varric?!  Who hired you?”

The assassin started to struggle, but there was no way in hell she was letting them get their blade out of her.  It hurt like the void when they grabbed the hilt and jerked it, but Hawke just gritted her teeth and slammed her shoulder back into them again, knife scraping bone as it drove back into her.  The assassin got a leg wrapped around hers, a disabling strike aimed for her eyes.  Fancy moves.  She avoided the gouging fingers going for her eyes by the simple expedient of biting the shit out of them.  She clamped down and g round her teeth until they managed to pull free, leaving a chunk of skin between her teeth.  While they were reeling she slammed her forehead into their nose, and something broke.  They choked.

People never listened to her warnings.

Hawke spit the skin stripped from his fingers into the assassin’s face.  “Welcome to fucking Kirkwall. I will rip your ear off with my fucking teeth so you either tell me or we start the torture,” she snarled, spitting blood into their face.  It dripped down her chin, pooled in her mouth, but she didn’t care.  “It won’t be fancy fucking torture.  I just start tearing things off!  WHO?!”

She saw the dart of their eyes, the calculation.  “If you let me go-”

“Name first,” she growled, baring her teeth.

“O-orlanda Valisti.”

“Hawke, step back!”

Out of instinct, she did exactly that, slamming her forehead into the assassin’s jaw and then staggering back and out of the way, the knife ripping free of her shoulder.  A crackling bolt of lightning slammed into the man’s chest, sparks of energy coursing through Hawke’s skin, making her teeth crawl.  Ugh.  Lightning magic.  As the guy was being electrocuted, she drew her other blade and threw it into his throat for good measure.

Shit.

The arm that had gotten a knife through the shoulder was numb, fingers having difficulty curling in.  Something had gotten damaged when they’d jerked the blade around.  Impossible to tell, everything hurt.  She was going to have to make the antidote one-handed.  As Feynriel rushed up to her, she shook her head at him and snapped out an order.

“Check both the rooms.  And the one they entered from, third on the left opposite up the hall from yours.  Make sure there’s no more.  Then come to my distillery.  I’m poisoned.”

He glanced down at the bodies, looking unsettled, but nodded his head.  “Y-yes.   I’ll…”  Falling silent, he turned and started walking.

She watched him go, using her good hand to rip off the damaged sleeve of her shirt.  Binding it around her shoulder hurt like fuck and she’d pay for covering an uncleaned wound later, but she couldn’t risk bleeding to death.  Streaks of it dripped down the length of her arm, and every breath hurt like fuck from the knife still in her back.  A deep, dull throb pounded through her entire body from the blade, distracting and dulling her senses.

Both were less important than the poison.

Breathing, gathering her strength, Naomi stood in the middle of the carnage-strewn corridor, blood dripping off her limp fingertips.

Well what do you know, this place finally felt like home.

“Welcome fucking back, Kirkwall says!”  She shouted hoarsely, voice echoing up and down the corridor.  “You were complaining about the lack of crime?!  Surprise!  There’s still plenty of other nugshit in store!”

She spat blood.

[alparlaboratories]

To Another Abyss - Chapter 5: It's only over once it's over.

(Chapters -which are usually between 500-1000 words- will be posted daily here first on Tumblr, and will later be posted in 7-8 chapter batches on AO3.)

-

Kanto has changed a lot in the past ten years. The League is no more, and trainers are now only tools for the rich and powerful, either mercenaries or dogs of the government.

Sabrina is the latter. She is to play the role of Gym leader in a sick, twisted mockery of the art she once admired, bearing the name of her childhood idol, a woman who is now wanted across the region. All for the entertainment of Kanto’s shadowy new rulers.

It’s a role she doesn’t mind playing. At least until an unusual challenger comes into her Gym, into the life she’s worked so hard to build, and begins to unravel it all.

-

Chapter 5: It's only over once it's over:

Sabrina studied the Scyther carefully, doing her best to conceal her worry. A swift, hard-hitting bug-type, surely with loads of combat experience… could she have gotten a worse opponent?

To make things worse, they'd agreed to a one on one duel, so this would be decided in an instant.

She threw her own Pokeball out, and from the blast of light emerged an old, frazzled Hypno wearing a pair of colorful yellow glasses. The Pokemon bristled, seemingly not bothered by his opponent's chilly glare. Sabrina knew him well, and knew that despite his frail appearance no other Pokemon from the Gym could match his smarts and experience.

Against a Scyther, though…?

After weighing all the possible options, the two of them crossed eyes, and nodded. There was only one way out of this, and it involved being smiled on by Lady Luck.

Both Pokemon stared each other down for a moment. Then, emboldened by the blood-thirsty cheers of the audience, they jumped to attack in unison.

"X-Scissor!" the man bellowed.

"Trick!" Sabrina countered.

The Scyther's speed was beyond compare. A bolt of verdant lightning, he crossed the arena in an instant and slashed upwards with both of his scythes, catching his foe just as the glasses disappeared from his face with a pop. The poor Hypno hit the ground hard, the sheer force of the impact sending him rolling until he crashed against the bars of the cage on the other side. He trembled, one hand against the floor, but could not bring himself even to his knees.

Without a doubt, the man with the cross knew what he was doing.

However, that made him and his Pokemon cocky. The both of them turned toward Sabrina, completely disregarding the Hypno as he raised a small berry and shoved it in his mouth.

Sabrina very pointedly didn't turn to look. Which was good, as the next instant the giant bug Pokemon shot toward her. He stopped within an inch of killing her, scythe raised to her neck with practiced control, barely brushing her skin. From this close, she could see that pair of yellow glasses adorning his face.

"Woah, easy there." Sabrina raised her hands in a show of surrender, earning a storm of boos from the audience.

"Nice one, Clay! You knocked it out of the park!" The man with the cross cheered with a big, dumb smile. "I'm very proud, buddy!"

Despite the danger of the situation, Sabrina couldn't help but roll her eyes again. She had to keep up the façade. The cool, calculating Scyther with a blade to her neck. The dumb, arrogant trainer smiling like an idiot. The young Gym leader with her hands raised, far from her Pokeballs, looking nervous.

"Well? What now?" asked the man, raising both hands and shrugging. "I'm disappointed. Seems like the rumors were all exaggerated."

A smirk formed on Sabrina’s lips. "Heh."

"What's so funn–?"

"Disable."

Eyes shooting wide, the Scyther tried to turn around. But Hypno was now possessed by an abnormal speed, and barraged his foe with a sudden wave of psychic energy, throwing him off of his trainer.

"Wh–Clay's Salac Berry!?"

Sabrina's grin widened maliciously across her face.

"Psychic."

The burst of concentrated energy blasted the Scyther in the face, sending him across the room. His trainer balled his hands into fists, eyes wide with panic.

"X-Scissor!"

But the Scyther didn't move. Couldn't. His body quivered with the bug's desire to attack, but it was as though every muscle in his arms had been paralyzed. He couldn't raise his scythes.

"Shit, Struggle!?" he cursed, realization dawning on him. "Of course, the Choice Specs…!

The rest of the fight was predictable. Unable to use his arms, the Scyther flew at Hypno in an attempt to tackle him, but slammed against the ground again and again, as the Salac berry had given him more than enough speed to dodge each of his attacks. The old Hypno barraged the poor insect with burst after burst of psionic power, until finally he hit the ground like a brick, smoking from head to toe. Hypno looked down at his fallen foe and struggled a step back, heaving from pain but still very much capable of fighting.

He knew what came next.

With an expression that bordered on demonic, Sabrina pointed at the man with the cross, and the wizened Hypno obeyed without question, raising a hand aflame with purple wisps of power.

Yet, to Sabrina's disappointment, her opponent didn't look scared or worried in the slightest. Instead, he hung his head and closed his eyes, balled fists trembling.

He was pissed.

"Y-you… backstabbing, traitorous…!" He seriously looked on the verge of losing it from anger. "What kind of trainer does something like that!? You're a disgrace to all Gym leaders!"

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, and chuckled. "Right…"

Unconcerned, she took an old iron lighter from her pocket and flipped it open, lighting a cigarette as she took it to her mouth.

"You wanted to win too cleanly," she said through puffs of smoke. "If you hadn't been such a good boy and actually killed me when you had the chance, you'd be leaving this place with my badge and my fame. But you didn't, because you're a loser. That your Pokemon is superior to your opponent's in all aspects doesn't guarantee your victory, priest."

She shoved the lighter back in her pocket and returned the Hypno to his Pokeball. Then she turned around and started walking away.

"You'd do well to remember that."

Fists trembling, pupils shrunken by rage, the man with the cross yelled as the Gym leader disappeared into darkness.

"I won't let this stand! I'll never accept your way of fighting! I'll be back tomorrow, and then I will beat you! You'll see!"

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Iron Man 2: Part Eight

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

After the fight, Tony's house looks completely broken. As the fight was happening, you didn't register just how much damage both men actually did. Now that it's been at least twelve hours, his house looks sad and broken. Fury, Natasha, Phil, and other SHIELD agents are scattered throughout the house while you and Tony sit with Fury in the main part of the room. The glass walls are gone due to the blast so it's just an empty and open room.

"That thing in your chest is based on unfinished technology," Fury says to Tony.

"No, it was finished. It has never been particularly effective until I miniaturized it and put it in my--"

"No. Howard said the arc reactor was the stepping stone to something greater. He was about to kick off an energy race that was gonna dwarf the arms race. He was on to something big, something so big that it was gonna make the nuclear reactor look like a triple-A battery."

"Just him or was Anton Vanko in on it too?" you wonder.

"Anton Vanko is the other side of that coin. Anton saw it as a way to get rich," he says before looking at Tony. "When your father found out, he had him deported. When the Russians found out he couldn't deliver, they shipped his ass off to Siberia and he spent the next twenty years in a vodka-fuelled rage. Not quite the environment you want to raise a kid in; the son you had the misfortune of crossing paths with in Italy."

"What didn't he try, Nick? We've tried everything."

"He said that Tony is the only person with the means and knowledge to finish what he started."

"He said that?" Tony scoffs.

"Are you that guy? Are you? If you are, then you can solve the riddle of your heart."

"I don't know where you get your information but he wasn't my biggest fan."

"What do you remember about your dad?" you ask him.

"He was cold and calculating. He never told me he loved me. He never even told me he liked me. So, it's a little tough for me to digest when you're telling me he said the whole future was riding on me and he's passing it down. I don't get that. You're talking about a guy whose happiest day was when he shipped me off to boarding school."

"That's not true, Tony. He had a bright mind and was excited about things. He talked about you before you were even an idea. I had the pleasure of knowing him when he was your age."

"Well, then, clearly you two knew my dad better than I did."

"As a matter of fact, I did. He was one of the founding members of SHIELD," Fury reveals.

Two men bring a metal box over to you three and set it in front of Tony. He's clearly shocked to hear about this but you knew it would eventually come true. Howard was an inventor and you knew he would go on to do big things. SHIELD wasn't a thing back in the 40s, so it had to have been after you and Steve disappeared from Earth. Howard went to go find Steve in the water and ended up finding something else. You know he did. Maybe he found the Tesseract, you're not sure, but he found something that would influence him to start this organization.

"Excuse me?" Tony asks.

"I got a two o'clock," Fury says after he checks his watch. 

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. What's this?" Tony gets up from his seat and you follow.

"Okay, you're good, right?"

"No, I'm not good."

"You got this? Right?"

"Got what? I don't even know what I'm supposed to get!" Tony shouts.

"Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact. You remember Agent Coulson, right?" Fury reintroduces Phil to the group.

"Yeah."

"Tony, remember, I got my eye on you," he says seriously and leaves the premises.

"We've disabled all communications. No contact with the outside world," Natasha says from behind you. You and Tony turn to face her and she just smiles. "Good luck."

"Okay, please. First thing, I need a little bodywork. I'll put in a little time at the lab. If we could send one of your goon squad down to The Coffee Bean for a Starbucks run, or something like that, that'd be nice," Tony says to Phil.

"I'm not here for that. I've been authorized by Director Fury to use any means necessary to keep you on the premises. If you attempt to leave or play any games, I will taze you and watch Supernanny while you drool into the carpet. Okay?"

"Phil," you sigh.

"I think I got it, yeah," Tony nods.

"Enjoy your evening's entertainment."

Phil leaves you and Tony alone with the big metal box that's been left for him by his father. With nothing left to do, Tony gets to work going through the box of memories. He takes the box down to his lab where all of his electronics are. Weirdly enough, the fight never touched the lab. You reach into the box and pull out what looks like blueprints. Upon further examination, you see they're for the arc reactor.

"Who knew all of this stuff was in here."

"You didn't know?"

"Tony, he started on this after I left Earth," you sigh.

You open the blueprints up to their maximum length but what's on the page doesn't make any sense to you. You disregard it and move on to whatever else is in there. Besides the blueprints, the box contains articles about Anton being deported and going crazy, film reels, some of his notebooks, and other little trinkets that have no importance right now.

Tony sifts through the different film reels before deciding he's going to watch the second one he picked up. He has three of them. You take the film reel and place it inside the machine that can showcase these kinds of reels. It's not very often you see these kinds of machines nowadays. The film starts, and it's the behind-the-scenes of Howard Stark when he was making the video that was shown at the Expo earlier.

"Everything is achievable through technology. Better living, robust heath, and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace. I'm Howard Stark, and everything you'll need for the future can be found right here," Howard says and points to the table behind him. 

You're fully invested in this since you considered Howard Stark to be a good friend of yours while Tony looks through one of his notebooks.

"City of the Future? City of Tomorrow? City of," he trails off and looks at the camera before starting again. "I'm Howard Stark and everything you'll need in the future can be found right here. So, from all of us at Stark Industries, I would like to personally..." He focuses on something or someone behind the camera. "Tony, what are you doing back there? What is that?"

Kid Tony is seen lingering in the background, and he picks up one of the buildings of the model that's on the table. Howard finally notices him and immediately gets stern with him. 

"Put that back. Put it back where you got it from. Where's your mother? Maria? Go on. Go, go," he sighs.

A cameraman picks Tony up and brings him to wherever his mother is. This isn't the Howard you knew.

"This isn't him," you mutter.

"It is. You just weren't around to see it happen," Tony rolls his eyes and flips through the empty pages in the back of the notebook.

The video stops and you put in another film reel. This one is a bit thicker so it has a lot more video footage. It's of the same setup, just at a different time. Howard is leaning against the table and staring straight into the camera.

"So, from all of us at Stark Industries, I'd like to personally show you my ass," Howard jokes. It seems like he doesn't know what to say. "I'd like to... I can't... This is... I can't... We have this, don't we? This is a ridiculous way... Everything is achievable through technology."

The film cuts to a different point, and Howard looks serious this time. 

"Tony. You're too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you." Tony looks up from his notebook emotionally. "I built this for you, and someday you'll realize that it represents a whole lot more than just people's inventions. It represents my life's work. This is the key to the future. I'm limited by the technology of my time, but one day you'll figure this out. When you do, you will change the world. What is and always will be my greatest creation is you."

Tony looks like he's about to cry at the end of it since all of this is new information. His father loved him, he just wasn't great at showing it.

"He loved you so much, Tony," you whisper and pat his leg as you stand up.

That's all for the film reels so there is only one place left to go. His office has the exact table that his father was working on. It's not a great start but a start nonetheless. You two pile into his luxurious car and he speeds down the highway to get to his office. Phil must not care about a security breach since he didn't stop you from leaving.

It's a beautiful day to be traveling only if Tony would slow down to enjoy the scenery. There is a person on the side of the highway selling strawberries to try and make ends meet. Tony pulls over for the man who looks excited he has a customer.

"How much?" Tony asks.

"Six dollars. Six," the Spanish man nods.

"I don't have any dough. Do you?" he asks you, but he doesn't wait for a response. He decides to trade in his very expensive watch for the box of strawberries. They are your favorite but you know he didn't buy them for you. He bought them for Pepper. "Here."

"No, sir, that's too much."

"No, it's fine. Take that. It's fine"

"No, señor."

"Take it. Take it," he insists. The man takes the watch and hands Tony the strawberries but you grab the box instead. "I don't like people handing me things."

"I got them," you sigh.

"Are you Iron Man?"

"Sometimes," he says and peels onto the road.

"I don't think a box of strawberries will be a big enough apology," you state and eat two.

Tony continues down the highway until he gets to his office. His employees used to practically bow down to Tony but since Pepper became the CEO, they've been distant towards him. He walks into his office despite what her assistant says while you pause by the door. A certain redhead down the hall captures your attention.

"Hey," you greet Natasha when you see her.

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Tony needs something from his office. Something his dad left him." Natasha nods and gathers some papers that Pepper needs to sign. "Look, we haven't had a chance to talk since that night because of everything that's happened since, but I want you to know I really like you. Would you let me take you on a proper date once this has blown over?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Natasha smiles.

Despite what her file says about her, she is very sweet and kind. She's a woman underneath that Black Widow persona, and she still gets butterflies when someone she likes flirts with her.

"Good. I'll let you get to it, then."

You leave her alone and join Tony and Pepper in her office. She is on the phone with someone, and she doesn't look happy about it. A news reporter is on the TV talking about you and Tony, and what happened in Italy.

"Listen, it's our position that Stark has and continues to maintain proprietary ownership of the Mark II platform," Pepper says.

"When Mr. Stark announced he was indeed Iron Man, he was making a promise to America. We trusted that he would look out for us. He obviously did not. Not to mention the secrets Y/N is keeping from us. What serum runs through her body? Is it a threat to us? Are there others like her we need to worry about? No statement has been given from either Y/N or Stark, but that just leaves us with more questions than answers."

You walk over to her desk and take a seat while Tony browses his office. In the corner are big platforms with sheets covering them that Tony rips off to reveal the same table that Howard was standing in front of. Whatever is on that table is the key to Tony's survival.

"No... Burt... Burt... Burt, listen to me. Don't tell me that we have the best patent lawyers in the country and then not let me pursue this. ... Well, then, tell the President to sign an order. We'll talk about it at the Expo. ... Hammer's giving a presentation tomorrow evening. Will Tony Stark be there?"

"Will I?" Tony asks as he pulls up a chair beside you.

"No, he will not. Bye," she hangs up.

"Got a minute?" he asks and sets the strawberries on the desk.

"No."

"Come on, you just got off the phone. You're fine. Thirty seconds."

"Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight," she sighs and counts as she looks at her watch.

"I was just driving over here and I thought I was coming to basically apologize, but I'm not."

"You didn't come here to apologize?"

"Look, that goes without saying and I'm working on that. I haven't been entirely upfront with you, and I just want to try to make good. Do you know how short life is? If I never got to express... By the way, this is somewhat revelatory to me. I don't care... I mean, I care. It would be nice. I'm not expecting you to... Look, here's what I'm trying to say. I'm just gonna say it."

"Let me stop you right here, okay?" she interrupts him. "If you say 'I' one more time, I'm gonna actually hurl something at your head, I think. I am trying to run a company. Do you have any idea what that entails?"

"Yes."

"People are relying on you to be Iron Man and you've disappeared, and all I'm doing is putting out your fires and taking the heat of it. I am trying to do the job that you were meant to do." She looks at the box of strawberries and sighs. "Did you bring me strawberries? Did you know that there's only one thing on Earth that I'm allergic to?"

"This is progress, Pepper. I knew there was a correlation between you and this," Tony says and motions to the fruit.

"I need you to leave... now."

Someone knocks on the door, and Natasha walks in with Happy behind her.

"Ms. Potts? Wheels up in twenty-five minutes."

"Thank you."

Natasha walks over to the desk and hands Pepper some papers to sign. Tony can't stop staring at her since he found out who she really is.

"Anything else, boss?" Happy asks.

"I'm good, Hap."

"No, I'll be just another minute," Pepper says at the same time as Tony.

It appears that Tony thought Happy was still reporting to him when really, he reports to Pepper now.

"I lost both the kids in the divorce," he laughs, but Happy just shakes his head. "Are you blending in well here, Natalie? Here at Stark Industries? Your name is Natalie, isn't it? I thought you two didn't get along?"

She doesn't answer him but the fire in her eyes is an answer enough. 

"Actually, while you're here, maybe you and Natalie could discuss the matter of the personal belongings," Pepper clears her throat.

"Absolutely," Natasha nods.

Pepper and Happy exit the room, and it's only when they are both gone that Natasha and Tony start mouthing off to each other.

"I'm surprised you can keep your mouth shut," she says.

"Boy, you're good. You are mind-blowingly duplicitous. How do you do it? You're a triple imposter. I've never seen anything like you. Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?"

Natasha says something in Latin but you never got around to learning the language. You're fluent in a lot of languages that you've gotten the chance to learn over a thousand years. Latin was used in the 7th century, BC. That's way before your time here.

"Which means? Wait. What? What did you just say?" he asks as she walks towards the doors.

"It means you can either drive yourself home or I can have you collected," she leaves.

"Damn," you whistle. "Everyone hates you right now."

"Shut up," he mumbles and gets up.

He takes the box of strawberries and throws them away. The pile of his things in the corner just sits there and Tony stares at them wondering what to do with them. He yanks down the rest of the sheet so that everything is visually available to him. There is something on the table that he can't stop staring at, and he covers one eye to have a different perspective. His right hand forms a circle and he places that hand over his eye.

"Tony, what are you doing?"

"Help me with these to the car. I think I have something."

x

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[frasermints]

im going to say this as gently as i can but it probably won't be very because i don't have the energy to elaborate as fully as i need to and this cannot continue to take up space in my head. this is coming from the perspective of someone living in the US partaking in the US (mental) healthcare system

the internet's fascination with (incorrect) self diagnosis (re: if you move your hips to the side when walking around a desk you're autistic!) paired with an aging traumatized population and skewed resource distribution has done a lot more damage to the greater mental health scene in the last four years than i think any of us want to admit

if you have been diagnosed with something between now and march 13, 2020 - ESPECIALLY if it was before march of 2022 - you need to get reevaluated from scratch in person (if you are able to) by someone that will develop an actual relationship with you. not by a telehealth ghost psychiatric service and joint pharmacy that will throw adderall or zoloft at you for $15 a month (!!!)

trauma acts like 90% of the mental health issues 15-35 year olds are posting about. PTSD presents with nearly every symptom known to man. treating it improperly will kill you. i'm really really tired of listening to people on tiktok give mental health advice that's being parroted by actual LCSWs and LMHCs/CCMHCs and PMNHPs when it's just... flat out incorrect at best and actually life threatening and dangerous at worst.

is there a very real issue with supply and demand of controlled substances in this country? yes. is there a very real issue with accessibility of therapeutic and diagnostic appointment setting for disabled clients? yes. the answer to both of these is not creating ghost pharmacies and practices that do not follow up with patients and commonly commit patient abandonment. it is much more involved than that and it cannot be solved through services like hims and hers and donefirst and helloklarity and fucking onlinepsychiatrists dot com are you serious

i understand that the mental health space in this country is difficult and dangerous and hostile to navigate. especially in a small town it is inhospitable for marginalized people. you are preaching to the choir when you're saying that to someone like me. but i'm just very frustrated when people immediately turn to "just get your drugs online, obviously your problem is X"

there is no obviously in mental health. there is NEVER an obviously in mental health. i hallucinate. i hear voices. i see things. i have manic and psychotic episodes. i experience intense waves of suicidal ideation and depression. i dissociate, often. i have impulse spending issues. i have problems with obsessive thoughts and compulsive movements. i have severe offset sleep issues. i have anger issues. i have attention issues. i have some pretty insane intrusive thoughts. do you want to know my current diagnosis?

ptsd (and technically adult gender dysphoria, but.)

i have had a laundry list of others come and go. bipolar 2, MDD, GAD, schizoaffective disorder, insomnia, BPD, OCD, ADHD, autism, intermittent psychosis - just to name a few.

four psychiatrists and 12 years to get to the root of the problem. 60+ years of experience could not give me a straight answer. i really don't want to be that asshole but i don't think some googling and perusing social media and one (1) visit with someone that's not intimately aware of you and your history is going to make safe and calculated decisions wrt your health.

establishing a relationship with one person (after doing some shopping!! look around!! get a sense of the vibes!!) is so so so necessary.

as always - this does not apply to the people it... does not apply to. if you cannot afford appointments, don't have insurance, etc. this is primarily targeting the people that have simply decided that using these services is more convenient than calling someone - even though it is available to, and within reach for, them.

we cannot improve a fundamentally broken system by continuing to break it. it frustrates me that that's what we're doing. making and buying teslas won't save the planet, seeing a therapist from betterhelp will not fix your childhood trauma.

[toastling]

I just love disability pay.

For those who don't know, I recently underwent surgery, and have been out of work since January in the lead-up to said surgery dealing with multiple infections and abscesses and healing in preparation. When I got put on temporary disability, I was told I'm good through June 31st and can call if I ever needed an extension. But on Friday near the end of the business, day I get an e-mail saying actually I'm only good until the 16th, and also, if I need an extension, I have until the 11th to call them and let them know to get the paperwork e-mailed. I figure "Okay, that's fine, they've been operational 7 days a week for any questions or corrections these last 6 months", except, for extensions specifically, they only operate on week days. Now mind you they only told me any of this in a single e-mail at the last possible second at the end of a Friday, so, there was no chance I could call them and get the paperwork sent over to have my doctor fill out over the weekend. The 11th is Tuesday. Since they won't handle this particular thing on weekends, I have Monday and Monday alone to call up, get the paperwork, send that paperwork to my doctor, and then send it back to them for approval. There is almost No chance that the last two steps are going to be completed in the span of Monday alone, especially since the surgeon in charge of my case is only in the office near me on Tuesdays, and only before noon, which means I'm going to have to try and get said paperwork to him to be filled out on a day he isn't even in town and insist it's rushed as fast as possible or I'll miss the deadline I didn't know I had until yesterday. It's like, incredibly obvious it's set up this way intentionally because America really doesn't want you to stay alive if you're disabled, even only temporarily, but Jesus Christ dude.

What's more, I've been making an entire third less what I should have been this entire 6 month period, forced to get by on $100 a week, because the way they calculate disability in my state is based on my prior 4 weeks of work before going on medical leave.

But as it happens, since I was chronically ill and was getting sicker than ever more often than before, I'd just missed an entire month of work just before the infection and abscess that took me out pre-surgery these past 6 months.

I'd only been back to work for 3 weeks by the time I was forced to go on leave again, and because I'd been out for so long before that and my schedule is created 3 weeks in advance, my manager had to finagle things a lot to squeeze me onto the schedule at all for those 3 weeks, so I was working WAY fewer hours than I normally did, meaning I was making less money than I normally would. And because I didn't reach that 4 week benchmark, that is what my disability pay was calculated off of, not what I actually, normally make in a week.

I've kind of just Let That Go this entire time because I live with my family still, so thankfully I've been able to get by on 100 a week by focusing solely on the most essential stuff, namely my personal groceries, and my family has been carrying me with any other expenses along the way, including medical ones (my surgery and bowel infections have been covered by my insurance 100%, but my dental emergencies which have also been going on continuously since January have not), but man, the combination of all this is just. Incredibly frustrating.

It should not be this difficult to have surgery and not, under ordinary circumstances, end up on the street during recovery because I can't work for X amount of months, but, you know, greatest country on Earth and all that. God bless the American healthcare and social safety net systems.

As an aside though, for anybody with more experience being on temporary disability pay than me - do you think it would be possible for me to appeal and get the money I *should* have been making this entire time this late into my claim? Because with the dental bills in particular, it would be nice if I could get the last 24 weeks of that missing third of my rightful pay to get back in the black with my dentist.

I was told it's NY state regulations, the whole prior 4 weeks of work calculation thing, but I do have extenuating circumstances there that impacted my paycheck. But like, would that even matter to these people?

[madmanwonder]

My Mood

AU(S): Horror AU: Vampire AU, Fantasy World: Overlord AU, Alien AU, College AU: Tutor AU, Mundane AU, Future AU, Married AU, Celebrity AU: Agent AU, Childhood Friends AU, Mercenary AU

General Moods: Crossover AU/Crossover Fusion AU, Fusion AU, Genderswap, Friendship-to-Romance, Shipping, Wholesome, Tragedy, Drama, Angst, Tearjerker, Heartwarming, Crossover Ship

Main Muses: Male: Qrow Branwen, Male!Byleth, Male!V, Male!Commander Shepard, Garen Crownguard, Danny Phantom, Jason Todd/Red Hood, Wade Wilson/Deadpool, Ddraig, Loid Forger/Agent Twilight, Female: Velma Dinkley, Annabeth Chase, Kat (DMC: Devil May Cry), Kuvira, Kurenai Yuhi, Yunyun, Dark Samus, Marceline the Vampire Queen, Roll (Mega Man), Cynthia

Male: RWBY, SpyXFamily, Fire Emblem, Cyberpunk 2077, Highschool DxD, Marvel, DC, Danny Phantom, League of Legend, Mass Effect,

Female: Devil May Cry, Pokemon, Metroid, Scooby Doo, Adventure Time, Mega Man Series, The Camp-Half Blood Series, Naruto, Konosuba, Avatar

Meme: Relationship Status, Big [Redacted] Disability, Cheerleader Outfit, Switched Attributes, Best Date vs Worst Date, What Would X Do, Diary Confession, Crossover Crack Ship/OT3, Love Calculator, Mortal Kombat Intro (MK 1)

[maggatron]

Kidnapped (Daredevil x OC)

Fair warning, I'm pretty self-indulgent with my fanfictions. I don't really like writing Y/N-style fanfics, which is why this one features my OC, Vanessa.

The moon cast an eerie glow over the dock boathouse, where Daredevil had tracked down the latest lead on Wilson Fisk's criminal operations. As he cautiously approached the building, a chilling sense of foreboding settled over him.

He cautiously stepped inside the dimly lit boathouse and saw Vanessa. She was unconscious and bound to a chair. His heart sank, realizing that Fisk had taken her as a pawn in his twisted game of revenge against Matt Murdock, the lawyer who had foiled his plans time and again. Panic threatened to consume him as he fought to remain composed.

"Daredevil, you've finally arrived," Fisk's voice echoed from the shadows. "Do you see what your meddling has cost you? An innocent woman's life is now in your hands."

Daredevil's jaw clenched, his fists tightening. He had to keep his emotions in check; Fisk was a master manipulator, and any sign of weakness could lead to disastrous consequences.

"I didn't come here to play games, Fisk," Daredevil replied, his voice steely. "Let her go. This is between you and me."

"Oh, but it's so much more than that," Fisk retorted, tauntingly. "You claim to be a hero, but you've doomed an innocent woman for the sake of your pointless crusade. Vanessa… lovely name, just like my late wife—what a coincidence, don't you think?"

Daredevil's heart pounded in his chest. The revelation about Vanessa's name being the same as Fisk's late wife only fueled his anger. He knew he had to focus on rescuing her, but Fisk's words stung.

Without warning, Fisk pushed the chair, with Vanessa still tied to it, into the water. Daredevil's instincts kicked in. He dove after her, the cold water enveloping them both.

"Shoot him." Fisk ordered his men as he turned to walk away.

"But… the woman…" One of his henchmen nervously asked.

Fisk paused, only turning to glare at his subordinate. He pulled out a gun and shot his man in the gut. His body crumpled to the floor.

"SHOOT HIM!" Fisk roared to his men, who opened fire at the dark water.

Panic surged through Daredevil as he worked to untie Vanessa from the chair while dodging the bullets fired by Fisk's men. The sound of gunfire reverberated all around them. With every second that passed, he could feel the urgency intensifying, knowing that Fisk's henchmen were still firing shots above them.

He finally felt the scratchiness of the rope pull loose under his fingers. With practiced precision, he swiftly freed Vanessa from the chair as it sank to the depths. He tugged Vanessa into his arms just as the gunfire stopped above the water's surface.

Daredevil knew he had to get them both out of danger quickly.

With Vanessa's unconscious body cradled against his chest, Daredevil swam to the surface. Water cascaded off his sleek red suit. He stealthily looped Vanessa's arms through a lifesaver pinned to a wood beam, keeping her afloat.

He didn't have a moment to waste. With a swift movement, he leaped out of the water, flipping through the air to land amid the henchmen with calculated precision.

His body moved with a fluidity that defied gravity. His movements were fluid and precise, a dance of acrobatics and martial arts. He struck with accuracy, disarming and incapacitating Fisk's men one by one. His heightened senses allowed him to anticipate their every move, evading bullets and disabling their weapons with ease.

He took a moment to catch his breath. His heart pounded, both from the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the fear of losing Vanessa.

He turned his attention back to Vanessa, lifting her unconscious body out of the water. He gently laid her damp body on the dock. He pressed two fingers to her neck, feeling for her pulse and listening intently to her heartbeat. It was unsteady, a reflection of the distress she had endured.

Vanessa's face was pale, and her clothes clung to her shivering body. Daredevil knew she needed warmth and medical attention.

For a moment, Daredevil knelt beside her, unsure of what to do next. He couldn't take Vanessa to a hospital; that would only put her in more danger. Instead, he made a difficult decision—to carry her across the rooftops back to her apartment. He knew it was the only place where he could keep her safe for the time being.

He scooped her into his arms again, determined to get her to safety.

He leaped from rooftop to rooftop, moving swiftly and gracefully across the city. Vanessa remained unconscious, her breathing steady but shallow. Daredevil's heart ached with worry for his friend. He knew she was strong, but he also understood the toll this ordeal had taken on her.

Arriving at Vanessa's apartment, Daredevil gently laid her on the couch. Her clothes were still damp. He knew she needed dry clothes and a warm blanket.

He quickly found a clean set of clothes for her, a pair of his own that she'd somehow stolen from his closet. He smirked as he carried his faded tee shirt and silken pajama pants into the living room.

Gently, he helped her into the dry clothes, tending to her like a guardian angel. He then wrapped her in a couple of warm blankets, carefully tucking her in.

His fingers brushed against her cheek. He fought back the urge to confess his true identity to her—to finally let her know how he felt.

But he knew he couldn't risk her safety. Not now, not like this. So, with a heavy heart, Daredevil kissed Vanessa's forehead gently. He made his way to the window, stepping one foot out onto the fire escape. He looked back at Vanessa's unconscious form wrapped in blankets.

"Stay safe, Vanessa." He whispered.

Then, he leaped from the fire escape.

[razieltwelve]

Raw (Final Rose x MHA)

Tenko - the girl who had once been Lightning Farron - watched her classmates from Class 1-A. They were all talented in their own ways, some more than others. Yet beyond their different quirks and differing levels of experience, there was one thing they all shared.

They were raw, like gemstones that had been freshly pulled from the earth. They had yet to be cut and polished.

It was hard to blame them.

For all that heroes were commonplace in this new life of hers, there were no Grimm. The monsters at their door were human, just like them, and they wanted to rule or reform civilisation, not annihilate it. What were the schemes of All For One or the various supremacist groups compared to the reality-breaking wrath of JENOVA or the civilisation-killing fury of Calamity Class Grimm?

Heroes might die in combat here, but it was rare, and they were not dragged down beneath tides of inhuman claws and fangs. They were not sent out to fight unnumbered hordes whose sole purpose was destruction. They did not live in the shadow of civilisation after civilisation that had tried and failed to fight off the Grimm.

Hunters had their own styles. Some were flashier than others. But at their core, all successful hunters fought with a ruthless pragmatism born of the simple truth of their profession: failure meant death. A hunter’s fighting style could be tempered for sparring or restrained for dealing with threats non-lethally, but it would always be a style meant for killing, a method for inflicting maximum damage with minimum effort.

All Might was one of Tenko’s friends, and she trusted the man with her life. But he was not a killer despite the awesome power her wielded. Oh, he could kill with ease, but his was not a killer’s heart. In many ways, he reminded her of Snow who had always been a kinder, gentler man than his imposing appearance would suggest. But Snow had been a killer, same as she had been, same as Fang had been, same as Caius had been... same as all other hunters had been.

Snow could smile and joke around with the kids... and he could pulverise a van full of terrorists with a single punch without so much as blinking. She’d seen him take a call from Serah, smiling into his scroll to Claire and the twins while his giant rampaged through the White Fang, leaving dozens of them reduced to little more than bloody paste with each footstep.

Heroes in this world were, with rare exceptions, not killers. And perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps this world didn’t need people like hunters. But just in case it did, Tenko was going to show them what it was like to face a killer, someone who could and would take advantage of every mistake and who could kill them the moment they dropped their guard, overextended, or lapsed in their technique.

After all, there were few killers as deadly as Saviour, and none who approached death in such a clinical, scientific manner.

X     X     X

Tenko was well known for the impressive way she fought. It was a concession she’d made years ago at Nezu’s behest. All Might could kill almost anyone with a single blow, yet the way he fought and the control he demonstrated meant that people weren’t afraid of him.

So rather than fight like a killer robot, Tenko fought more extravagantly, her moves calculated to put civilians at ease and to disable villains without killing them or maiming them. But Saviour was always there watching and waiting, ready for a return to Tenko’s true fighting style.

Contrary to common belief, Tenko was not necessarily an offensive fighter. It was easy to think that since she usually ended fights quickly, but the truth was different. As a fighter, there was no one who could predict opponents the way Tenko could. Coupled with her incredible speed and agility, it was almost trivially easy to anticipate what an opponent would do and then counter it before they’d even finished doing it.

It was why she usually advanced straight at her opponents. It wasn’t arrogance. it was a way to force a response - a response she could predict and then counter to end the fight before it had even really begun. As Vanille had once put it, the scariest thing in the world was to have a bearer of Saviour walking toward you. You didn’t know what you were going to do, but they did, and they would make you pay for it.

Of course, anticipating an opponent’s moves would have mattered little if she couldn’t hit hard enough for it to matter. But Tenko could hit hard... very hard. Even without using Saviour, Aura enhancement alone meant she could reduce every single one of her classmates to bloody mist if she struck them with a full-strength attack. All Might, of course, could stand up to a full-strength Aura-enhanced blow, but there were very, very few people in the world who could get anywhere close to his durability.

In short, Tenko’s style was based on overwhelming speed and power guided by unmatched predictive ability. In almost every serious fight she’d been in, she had won with a single blow launched to perfectly counter what the opponent was doing. Of course, that got boring and would possibly lead to her stagnation, so she regularly put limits on herself constraining how fast she could move, how hard she could hit, and so on. It made sure she continued to push herself and to gain experience in a variety of situations.

A spar against her classmates was exactly such an opportunity. They would learn nothing if she simply crushed them in an instant, and Nezu would be quite... annoyed if she exploded any of them, to say nothing of how All Might would react.

X     X     X

Bakugo was good. He always had been. Sure, he’d been born with talent, but he’d worked his ass off too. And what was that saying again? A genius who works hard can’t be beaten. Damn straight. Lazing off wasn’t going to let him reach the same level as All Might, so he had to fucking give it everything he had every time he trained. Anything less and he was just holding himself back.

It was why he hated sparring sessions at UA. Most of his classmates were losers. They were either scared to fight him or unwilling to go all out. The fire and ice idiot might have been a good training partner, but he had his head so far up his own ass. Not using his fire because of daddy issues? Please. If he wanted to prove his dad wrong, then he should just use his fire... and use it better than his dad ever did! Show his father that he was stronger, that he was the real hero. Fuck that brooding shit.

But now he was up against maybe the one person in the class he truly respected.

Everybody knew who Tenko was. She was the rat’s special project, the teacher’s aide with enough experience already that All Might actually gave a damn about what she said. And those eyes of hers... yeah. Those were some good fucking eyes. She might put on a good show for the cameras, never hurting villains too badly and playing by the rules, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid. Those weren’t the eyes of some goody two shoes. That was a storm in human form, and he was dying to know what she could do.

“Finally going to mix with the plebs, huh?” Bakugo smirked. “Rules?”

Tenko glanced at All Might. He nodded. “By all means, use your quirk.” She shrugged. “It won’t matter.”

He bared his teeth. “Don’t fucking underestimate me!”

“I’m not.” Tenko’s smile was almost gentle. “But what hope does a candle have against the ocean?”

“Fuck you!”

X     X     X

Izuku stared.

Kacchan was losing. And it wasn’t even close.

It didn’t matter how he used his explosions, Tenko seemed to exactly how to move to avoid them or negate their impact. She wove through the blasts, closing the gap and landing short, sharp blows. If she had put her quirk into even one of them, he knew Kacchan would have either been knocked out or severely injured. Instead, she kept her blows just hard enough to hurt and bruise, but never hard enough to do serious damage.

“Pay close attention,” All Might murmured, eyes intent on the battle. “This battle is for you as much as young Bakugo.”

“For me?”

All Might smiled. “You did not start learning and training in earnest until recently. You have not had time to develop a complex and advanced fighting style.”

Izuku nodded. It was true. His fighting style was... rudimentary and relied heavily on the overwhelming speed and strength his newly acquired quirk could give him.

“I know how you feel. You must feel... inadequate, perhaps even ashamed when you see the flashier, more developed fighting styles of your peers.”

Izuku bit his lip. The words hit close to home.

All Might’s smile widened. “Which is why you must pay close attention! Tenko is known for her ability to defeat opponents in an aesthetically pleasing manner, but this... this is her true fighting style. It is a style based on an unshakeable foundation, one that has absorbed the best techniques of all other styles and has discarded what is ineffective, keeping only what works. Its simplicity is magnificent, and its effectiveness unquestionable.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. All Might was right. Despite driving Kacchan back, despite dodging all of his blasts, despite landing blow after blow, Tenko’s movements weren’t anything Izuku wasn’t already physically capable of. Crisp, compact punches and kicks. Perfectly executed holds and throws. It was beautiful in its simplicity, breathtaking in its efficiency.

“But how...?” Izuku asked. “How can she fight like that.” And then the answer came to him. “She sees it... she sees what Kacchan is going to do and is already reacting before he can finish doing it. But I...” 

He couldn’t do that... could he? But One for All made him fast... could it make him fast enough to see what someone was doing and still have time to react? It could! If only he could master it more. And all of his studying, all of his learning... what if he studied the way the human body moved, what if he learned to see tells and giveaways to predict what people were doing?

All Might chuckled. “You understand then?”

“How far does she see?” Izuku whispered. Kacchan was still fighting, but he was losing more and more badly with each exchange. This wasn’t a contest... it was... it was like Tenko was trying to teach him what he was doing wrong while beating him at the same time. Already, Izuku could see Kacchan changing what he did, tightening up his defences, honing his attacks, all because his mistakes were being pointed out with every hit Tenko landed.

“Everything,” All Might replied.

X     X     X

Bakugo stared at the sky. He’d been beaten. He’d given it everything he had, and he’d lost. No. He’d been crushed. It was like looking up and realising that he hadn’t been trying to climb a hill. No. He’d been trying to climb a fucking mountain.

He should have been angry, but he wasn’t.

Instead, a smile crossed his lips. He’d improved. Just from that one fight, he’d gotten better. Tenko, that bastard, had been pointing out his flaws the whole time. It had taken him half of the fucking fight to realise, but now that he thought about it, she’d been doing it right from the start.

What kind of monster was she?

Heh. Well, if she wanted to help him get stronger, he wasn’t going to complain. And one day, he’d wipe that fucking smile off her face. He’d force her to take him seriously. He’d get strong enough to see what she could really do.

“Tenko,” he said, using her name because she deserved that respect. “What’s your schedule?”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

The only way to get Bakugo to respect you is to kick his ass. Tenko can do that all day.

Also, All Might knows more about Tenko than anyone else at UA except Nezu. He might have spoken with her a lot about Midoriya. With the enhanced speed and reflexes One for All gives, Midoriya could potentially develop a fighting style that shares similarities with Tenko’s. Of course, without Saviour, he won’t be able to completely predict things the way she can, but it will be far better than simply wading in and throwing down the way Midoriya tends to do in canon.

Don’t worry about the other students. Tenko has plans for them as well.

Next stop...? Who knows. Maybe Momo because Fraise had a similar Semblance and was a billion times deadlier with it. Or maybe Shoto. Two emotional hedgehogs enter a ring. Only one emerges victorious. Or maybe Fumikage. Dark Shadow can’t be any worse than Sigrid’s murder hobo Saviour.

[glitter-stained]

Hi there! Thank you ^^

Just wanted to pop in on top of that to point out something about the way we calculate age. For other commentary of this type, I've seen people use this same vocabulary of "mental age", "emotional age" "maturity level", "developing emotionally, socially or mentally" (even saw someone call him an immature adult, which... While technically correct with their definition of adult, that phrasing did filled me up with rage.)

But the thing is, we used to have a concept of "mental age" which was "what this person's cognitive abilities are similar to a person of x age". This concept was used for a long time (that's where the r slur comes from) even though it was completely stupid, didn't work for the general adult population, didn't work for anyone who doesn't have uniform abilities and most of all was incredibly infantilising for people with intellectual disabilities (some people today still genuinely believe that 18 years old adults with ID shouldn't be allowed to have sex, this is also part of the reason for the large infantilising of autistic people in media...) All of this to say, we have since realised, and are very adamant on making society understand, your real and mental age is your amount of lived experience. Someone who has lived and interacted with the world for sixteen years is not the same as an eight years old I don't care how good at maths they are.

Now with Jason, we are in a relatively unique case where his real age is younger than his physical age which is younger than his chronological age. Now I do hope nobody is gonna argue that his skeleton nap should matter for his age (if you do I'm just not gonna take that seriously) but I do want to insist, Jason's physical body's age should matter to his doctor and no one else! Even, and that's a big if, we wanna assume the pit propped his cognitive abilities up to where they should be at that point (which, since the pit apparently cures brain cancer but not trauma because fuck dc's understanding of mental illness, is doubtful but a possibility), this is still not lived experience and does not matter when taking in account Jason's age. He is three years younger than you think he is at any given age, he is still a teenager and he is NOT a grown man preying on poor little children.

(And while I think Winnick's portrayal of Jason is ass because of, as usual, the classismXpsychophobia dc combo of hell, this means that calling Lost Days!Jason and UTH!Jason is still factually incorrect!! Yes, even if you try to retcon a conduct disorder into him!!! Especially since he never had ODD!!! Children and teenagers cannot be psychopaths because ASPD is a personality disorder and their personality is not fucking developed!!!)

Jason Todd's timeline and "Age"

So, there's a lot of discussion of Jason Todd's age esp as relative to other sidekick vigilantes, particularly Tim and Mia. I believe the exact words are usually something about a "grown ass man beating up/trying to kill teenagers."

DISCLAIMER: This particular post is specifically regarding the "grown ass man vs teenagers" statement, I have posts regarding the "tried to kill them" portion and other stuff like "seriously Jason Todd is like being shot by a marshmallow gun compared to what goes on directly before and after him in these incidents, also you don't bitch about the right stuff, also a lot of you prop up characters who are Objectively Worse, and no that's not hate on your fave it's just me calling out hypocrisy". It just takes time to find digital copies of the panels I'm using. NOTE I AM NOT JUSTIFYING HIS ACTIONS. I'm just saying y'all blow it out of proportion for petty character hate. Like, shit, they're superheroes. Jason's soooo fuckin' tame. He's not even framed as a big deal to the teens it's only the adults that think it's that much of a problem.

Courtesy readmore post cut:

Now, to start off, we all know Jason died at 15 & a few months off from 16 (if you want me to dig up panels, sure, but I figured at this point that wasn't in question). Tim at this point is somewhere between 12-13, and we have this panel in Lonely Place of Dying which takes place a few months later:

So that's a ballpark of 2-3 years between Jason and Tim.

But Tim's age is really fucky and they keep de-aging him tbh. We can extrapolate that his confrontation with Jason was between the ages of 16-17 bcs it's after the arc where he has his incredibly shitty 16th birthday in Robin Vol2 #116 and before Red Robin where he's stated to be 17. This would put Jason between 18-19 at the time. (If you really want me to find panel sources for Tim's birthday and his age in RR then, sure, but I don't think they're necessary. I used it more as a guidepost for Jason's age, since we have a clear idea of what the age gap is.)

At least, on paper.

Mia for her part I've had a hard time finding like, on panel mentions of her age and if anyone can direct me to it being explicitly stated I'd love that. I'm rereading old comics but it's a LOT of comics to hunt down & dig through. To my understanding she was fifteen when Ollie first met her, and there's at Minimum of about a year and a half between that to her meeting Red Hood, more likely at least two? because there's at least few months between that and her joining the Titans, the Doctor Light stuff, then One Year Later, and then returned to Star some 3 months after Ollie came back to run for mayor? And then Jason not too long after. So, two years feels safe. Puts her at 17-ish, Jason at 19-20

Once again, I specify: on paper.

People would happily point out at this point that that 4 year age gap is a "huge gap in maturity." And yeah, under normal circumstances, I'd agree.

But, and this is going to get contradictory bcs I found Two different timelines (BOTH written by Winick, lmao), and depending on how you read it it could be up to three different possibilities. Let's Start with Batman Annual #25: Daedalus & Icarus.

Timestamp before Jason's resurrection, which is pretty well known at this point:

Next, him waking up from a coma afterwards, when he escapes the hospital:

Now the above could be interpreted as either 1 year after he died if we're assuming that it's using the same "start" point to count as the resurrection (unlikely), or one year after he came back (more likely).

Next, the timestamp right before a guy recognizes him and sells him out:

And, finally, the timestamp before being put in the Pit:

That is, count it up, between 3-3 1/2 years where Jason was dead, in a coma, or otherwise not particularly... cognizant of the world around him. His ass is NOT developing emotionally, socially, or mentally like this, which pretty handily bridges the gaps there. Taken at face value, Jason's maturity level is going to be, unironically, younger than Tim's in the wake of these setbacks.

Now, if we go to Lost Days issue 1, it doesn't specify how long he was dead, nor how long he was in a coma, so we'll just carry those two over, what we DO have is this from just after Talia brought him home:

This puts him as being on the streets for five months, so we're at just shy of two years so far. And then we have this:

Which is right before Talia puts him in the Pit.

So, in summary: 6 months dead, 1 year coma, 5 months on the street, and something like 1-1 1/2 years with the League which...

Actually puts us on almost the exact same timeframe either way. 3 to 3 1/2 years. It just changes whether Jason was on the streets or with the League for longer.

And is utterly incomprehensible because comic timelines are a freaking nightmare.

If we're being generous, then that would put Jason at a minimum of 19, maybe toeing the line of 20 for UTRH, again, on paper, because like hell are you convincing me he did less than a year's worth of training abroad throughout Lost Days. Yeah maybe they trained him in fighting while he was catatonic, muscle memory and all that. But the other teachers that we KNOW of? The bombs, guns, probably something to get him up to date on handling all that tech we see him using, Egon, potentially arguably All-Caste if you want to draw from n52...

but you'd have to knock at least a year and a half off of his internal/personal development from death & coma, at minimum. Maybe you could argue he was somewhat developing while in his "the lights are on, but nobody's home" phase, you can't say it's at the same level as a normal person might when going about their day to day life, and it's difficult to measure. But he's not hitting the kind of milestones that he should be for his age. I wouldn't put him at anything less than two years behind. So if we use our upper estimates on Jason, and lower estimates on both the developmental setbacks and Tim/Mia's ages that gives us:

Jason toeing 20, mentally 18, fighting Tim at 16. 2 year gap, kind of stretching the physical age gap if we assume Tim had just barely turned 13 when he showed up to be Robin. - OR LESS

Jason maybe 21, mentally 19, fighting Mia at 17, two year age gap again. Honestly, still not that big of a difference - OR LESS

And, to be frank, that's not even counting the mental development issues that come from the intense physical trauma from dying - and I swear to fuck don't give me the "He's not the only one who died he's not special" speech.

HOW MANY OF THE OTHERS YOU'RE USING AS A GOTCHA LOST, *GESTURING AGGRESSIVELY ABOVE*, LITERALLY MULTIPLE YEARS OF THEIR LIFE.

Not counting adults, of course. Barry lost years, Hal lost years, Ollie I think also lost a couple years? but A) they came back still adults, bodies pretty much the same. B) While Jason's body didn't go through a magic growth spurt

I'll eventually get around to Titan's Tower & GA#72 (tbh, there are other people who've already done Titan's Tower and it'd probably be better than what I do, so I'm more going to focus on the latter, but there IS a specific part of the former that drives me nuts that I don't see brought up a lot), and maybe if we're feeling spicy all my issues with UTRH starting with how Winick is just as guilty of retroactively writing Jason as being inherently a bad penny since his Robin days as any of the other "modern" writers. Like, bud, Severe enough Head Trauma is legitimately enough to change someone's personality, not to mention trauma. It wouldn't hurt your narrative for that eerie difference, the Shade of What Once Was if you're really going for RH being Like that.

Final addition: I swear to god if you use my post to start up some kind of petty-ass ship war or flame other characters I will immediately turn off reblogs and replies I am Not Dealing With That Shit, please and thank you.

Anyways, @glitter-stained, your interest made me decide to actually put the work in now to pull it up rather than passively gather stuff to dump whenever discourse pushes me over the edge so, here ya are. Looks like you did have it closer on the mark than I did.

[stopthatnel]

No Need To Be Direct (p3)

a/n: man. this one hit different ong. gojo x reader x nanami. wc: 2.9k

NFSW!

m.list

tw: infidelity, possessiveness, being caught, humiliation, degradation, dirty talk (lots and lots), overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, biting, spitting, pussy spanking, begging, borderline brat taming, voyeurism, exhibitionism, choking, use of a belt, creampies, threesomes, lmk if i missed anything lol

part one; part two

s: nanami found the perfect moment to catch you red handed, but boy did he enjoy it. maybe a bit too much.

Nanami wasn’t stupid. In fact, he is the farthest from it. His time with you was never in vain, how would he know all of your cues, all of your ticks, all of your itches without it? He knew you were getting antsy, he could tell. You weren’t one to get angry, so he knows you tried. He knew it took so much out of you to even get to the point of immorality, and he resents you all the more for not holding out just a tad more. He could've had you, all of you, with loyalty never brought into question. Instead, he’s sitting at his desk watching the security footage show him his coworker entering his own house, fucking his girlfriend on his own couch.

Nanami was a calm man. In fact, Nanami remained calm as he stood up from his desk, walking over to Kiyotaka and telling him “(Y/N) is hurt. I need to go see her. Clear my schedule and do not allow anyone to contact me.”

Nanami is a calm man. He gets into his car, gripping the wheel until his knuckles turn white. He’s still calm as he pulls into the driveway and disables the security alarms off his phone. He’s still calm as he watches the live security footage, the white haired man clutching on to your thighs as you attempt to close them around his neck.

He can hear your moans from the walk-in, sputtering nonsense of how good the man was making you feel. His teeth grate against themselves; that man wasn’t him. You’d given the very body you promised was his to someone else, someone who was only giving you half of what he worked so hard to keep. He steps in quietly and watches the scene unfolding before his very own eyes. He loosens his tie, stealthily coming up behind Gojo with an outreached hand.

He almost pitied the two of you. You were such an attention whore, and Gojo was too drunk on your pussy to see anything other than the weak damsel in distress that you portrayed yourself to be. A grin splits at his lips, snatching the tufts of hair from in between your legs, a disgruntled groan falling from Gojo’s lips, and an embarrassed yelp falling from yours.

“Nanami!” You scream. You reach for the pillows thrown across the floor, a sorry attempt to hide your body from the man that stood between you and your consort.

Nanami was a calm man, but in this moment he was farther from calm than he was closer to insanity. He gave his life to you, he gave you his trust, his soul, and yet here he is, hearing the lewd sounds of your sopping cunt between your legs with another man on his knees. Nanami is a possessive man, Nanami doesn’t even want others to breathe incorrectly on what was his.

But Gojo, sweet Gojo, was a calculated man. Gojo didn’t need to defend himself and he didn’t need to protect you. He’d let Nanami go on his power trip and by the end of it all he’ll have you by his side, he’d be your protector then, and only then. “What is it (Y/N)? Do you need time? Hmm? To explain?” Nanami seethes, his grip tightening on his coworkers' hair.

“What lie is it this time? Did Nikki bail on you again? You called a friend over, huh?” He taunts. The amount of times you use your friend's name in a copout dawns on you, you realize just how sloppy you’ve gotten. You still can’t understand just how he knew exactly when to intrude on your secret fantasies, and can’t believe you’ve let yourself get caught. Your heart is rattling underneath your ribs and tears well at the edge of your eyes.

Gojo is still on his knees across from you, your arousal still keeping his lips and chin shiny. You look up into Nanami’s eyes pleadingly and decide there was only one way out of this,

“Nanami, please! I’m sorry, please forgive me. I was so lonely-“

“Lonely?” Nanami lashes out, “Why, if you were so lonely, why couldn’t you drive that pretty little car I bought you up to my office? Instead,” he crouched down to meet your eyes, pulling Gojo along with him. “You’re fucking my coworker.”

“I should’ve known. You’re an attention seeking whore, nothing can fill that hole inside you, you needy fucking slut!” He snarls. He releases his grip on Gojo’s scalp, opting to hold yours instead. He’s yanking you upright and pulling the pillow from your grasp, letting his gaze fall over your naked body. Nanami can’t help but stare at your tits, furrowing his brow at each love bite he notices. A new feeling of rage ignited within him, you let him mark you?

“Is he even fucking you right? Is he even fucking trying to tend to your every little fucking need? Or should I show him, hmm? A little goodbye gift?” The tears that pooled in your eyes trickled down your face, “Please, Nanami. I’m sorry.” You whimper. You’re closing your eyes, refusing to allow yourself anymore tears to drop down your cheeks. You’ll do anything, anything he asks. You can’t stand to be the target of such anger, especially red handed. You choke out a sob, “Please Nanami, I’ll do anything. I’m begging-“

“Anything?” Nanami mocks. His gaze lowers to the mound between your legs, sheen from the slick of your arousal and your company’s saliva. A deranged smile overcame his lips, “Then let me show your little side bitch how to actually fuck you.” The fingers intertwined in your locks grab against your roots, tugging you down onto the couch onto your hands and knees.

“I haven’t forgotten about you,” Nanami snaps his head to Gojo. “How about you grab a chair and take a lesson, Gojo.” The calm and calculated man stood up and walked over to the dining table, dragging the chair back and sat down, facing you. “Class is in session.” Nanami chuckles. He unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of its loop, dragging the cool metal along the warmth of your spine. Goosebumps rose in suit of his teasing, drawing a whine from your lips. He takes his other hand dragging his fingers through your slick folds, and he felt the rage within him battling the way his blood rushed to his groin. How dare you let another man get you like this, he thinks.

A sudden slap to your sopping sex jolts you forward, a cry escaping you. Nanami’s palm was stained by your drooling cunt, and he relished the sound of your cries. He wanted to make sure your pussy was aching for him, coming undone mentally before he even thought of pumping you full of his cum. “Count.” He points to Gojo before fully getting behind your plump ass, admiring the way you spread your legs for him and arched your back, your pretty- slutty- pussy and puckering asshole on display for his eyes to feast. He cocks his brow to the silence following his command, laying another slap against your folds, this one harsher than the first. You whine at the stinging sensation.

Gojo leans back into his seat watching you whore yourself out to your boyfriend. He locked eyes with the blond man as he lifted his palm, “Start counting, or I’ll make sure you get her pussy only after she’s raw.” He hisses. Gojo’s jaw clenched, maintaining eye contact as Nanami’s palm went down again to your pussy, the air filled with the delicious vulgar sounds of your cunt and cries. “Gojo! Please…” you whimper, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He breaks his stare down with the blond to catch your eyes in his. You look so perfect and submissive, begging to be relieved. His cock strained through his boxers, a wet spot pooling at the fabric. He pursues his lips and darts his tongue out to wet them, “Three.”

Nanami chuckles, “You’ve got such a brat, (Y/N).” Another slap sounded against your sensitive mound, your breathing quickens, whining through your nose.

“Four.” Gojo mumbles.

“But he learns so quickly. Couldn’t say the same for you, slut.” He taunts. Nanami spreads your now puffy lips with his fingers, blowing cool air onto your sensitive nub. You whimper at the sensation of the dual temperature, you hot, drooling cunt against his cool breath. He dips a digit into your cunt; curving them ever so slightly and begins to hammer at the spot that have your legs trembling. Gojo watches as your eyes roll into the back of your empty little head, your cheeks flushed, and your plump lips matching its shade. You moan from the thrust of him adding another finger, abusing your swollen gspot. Your pussy clenched around his digits, and he groaned.

“Such a fucking slut, this slutty pussy is always so fucking tight.” He laughs. Gojo sees your face scrunching, screwing your eyes shut as you neared an orgasm. “Mmph, fuck, I’m going to cum!” You warn. You weren't sure who you were warning, the man who fingered your pussy deliciously, or the man who’s cock jumped in his boxers while watching you come undone. Nanami pulls his drenched fingers from your cunt, laying down a final slap onto your clit, watching you fall forward, the cushion swallowing your moans. It was timed at just the right time for you to feel yourself gushing cum onto your boyfriend's pants, trembling as your climax spread heat throughout your entire body.

Gojo shifts in his seat, hand reaching up to his cloth cladded cock, adjusting himself to relieve some pressure. While Gojo had a sour taste in his mouth from watching another man pull vulgar noises from your body, he couldn’t help but roll his hips at the fact that he was watching you come undone, in front of his eyes. It was you, after all. And nothing spurred his cock more than that. A muffled groan bubbled at his throat, he bites his lip to recompose himself.

“Five.”

“You two are too good, brats with brats. Look at where that got you.” Nanami laughs. He looks over to the belt in his hand with a devilish glimmer in his eyes, pulling it towards his chest and looping the end through the metal piece, leaving just enough room for it to slip over your head and pull taught against your neck. “Come closer, Gojo.” Nanami grits.

Gojo scoots his chair to the arm of the couch, his cock stirring against his pelvis at how close your face was to his cock. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, he’s sure you can feel his coming off his rock hard length. Nanami began to remove his clothing, you kept your face buried into the cushion beneath you. You hear the creaking of the hardwood beneath your lover's feet, feeling his heavy presence behind you. “Since you’re acting like a bitch in heat,” Nanami hisses, “I’ll make sure you’re kept on a leash.” You lift your head up to catch a glimpse of him handing off the mock leash to Gojo.

Nanami lines up his rigid cock against your fluttering hole as you look up into Gojo’s lust clouded eyes, yours widening and jaw falling slack as he suddenly sheaths his entire length into you. Gojo’s grip on Nanami’s belt tightened, taking the opportunity to tug your head towards his aching cock, grunting as your nose brushed over him. He throws his head back, a whine escaping his nose. Nanami’s relentless pace doesn’t falter when he laughs, “You two were made for each other.” He grabs the fat of your soft ass and spreads them apart, digging himself into your gummy walls, basking in the sight before him. He couldn’t understand why the sight spurred him on, the two of you submissive underneath him, under his control, it had had his mind racing more than he’d like to care to admit.

“You’re both so fucking needy.” He growls. “So fucking desperate.” A harsh slap landed on your rear, catching your breath mid moan. Gojo feels his composure beginning to wilt away, how could he keep it together? You were a babbling mess, drooling, and crying over his groin. He bucks into your face, letting a soft whine pass his lips, followed by a groan as your open mouth caught on the head of his cock. Nanami leans into the arch of your body, nipping and sucking along the length of your spine. “What did I hear you calling him… sir? Tell your sir to relieve himself, he looks so frustrated.” He sneers, biting into your shoulder. Gojo’s grasp on the belt tightens, you feel the buckle grip your throat. He tugs your head up and meets with his eyes, that started almost pleadingly into yours. You bring a shaking hand up to the outline in his briefs, stroking him gently despite the rough thrusts behind you. You pull the fabric down, admiring the bounce of his strained cock.

“Touch yourself, sir.” You mewl. Gojo reaches his hand and wraps his fingers along the base of his cock, groaning at the feeling of relief as he tugged along his sensitive length. “Fuck…” he musters.

“Don’t be rude,” Nanami grins, “spit on his cock. Give him something to work with. Look at how hard he is, the fucking pervert gets off on see you get fucked.” Nanami didn’t contemplate any of the words coming out of his words, knowing it was ironic, seeing as the man had been watching the two of you fool around through the security cameras. Of course, you didn’t know that. You didn’t even know they existed, he had them installed on a day when you ‘went to go see Nikki.’ You gather the saliva in your mouth, spitting it onto the bright and angry pink tip in front of you. Gojo groans, “Fuck yes, you’re such a good girl.”

“Isn’t she?” Nanami muses. He watches as his coworkers' eyes feast on your body, sloppily picking up the speed at which he pumped his cock. He watches his eyes find their way to the arch of your back, transfixed at the way your ass jiggled with each thrust, Nanami’s cock disappearing and reappearing in your cunt. The scene was obscene and you had your eyes screwed shut as you felt the coil in your gut snap, “I’m cumming! Oh fuck, fuck yes, I’m cumming.” Nanami groans at your tight snatch pulsing and clenching around him, a feral whine following after.

“Who said you could cum? You messy, slut. I was just praising you. You fuck someone else and you forget my rules?” He grunts, gliding his arms underneath your body and grabbing your breasts. Nanami pulls your body up into his and lifts your legs up from underneath you, holding you in the air, your pussy swollen and sloppy all for Gojo to see. He leans into your neck and sucks into the supple skin, he thrusts not wavering for a second, your overstimulated sex gripping into his cock like a vice. Gojo moans and tightens his grip on his shaft, speeding up at the sight of your pretty little pussy being split gassing Nanami’s cock.

“God, fuck. That pussy‘s so fucking pretty.” He’s fixated on Nanami’s thrusts into your sex, and Nanami is enjoying every second of it. He did say he was going to show your side bitch how to fuck you, but he couldn’t believe just how much he enjoyed it. Gojo’s mouth was watering, he took the opportunity to spit onto his dick in hopes of replicating the feeling of your messy cunt on Nanami’s. Your body flails limply in Nanami’s arms as he fucks into you, you’re a mess and you can’t handle anymore. His cock is bullying its way through your tightened walls, whispering degrading nothings in your ear.

“You needy fucking slut.”

“I know you fucking love this shit, gah- fuck your little cunnys gripping me so tight.”

“You came without my permission, but this time you have it. You love this shit, don’t you? Give me one more, let your bitch see you squirt all over my dick, go on, you cumslut.” His fingers reach over to your clit, desperately rubbing circles around the swollen nub, whimpers falling past your lips, preparing yourself for the knot to come undone.

“Come on slut, I know you have it in you. Let it go, I want to watch his face when your pussy is dripping with my cum.” Your eyes shift to look at Gojo who was staring intently at your mess. He groans seeing the ring of cream around the base of Nanami’s cock, “Fuck, yes. Come for us princess.” He manages through his groans, spurts of cum shooting out onto his chest. He continued to tug at his overstimulated cock, whining from how sensitive he was. Seeing the man come undone before your eyes had you rolling your eyes back as the knot came loose. Your pussy gushes yet again, spraying a cloudy clear liquid out onto your thighs and Gojo’s chest.

“That’s it, good girl.” Nanami moans, thrusts becoming sloppy. He bites into your shoulder as he cums, his balls pulsating underneath you, not quite stilling. With his final thrust, he pulls his cock out of you slowly and brings his fingers up to your hole. He shoves two fingers inside your cum filled pussy, dragging them out and spreading his seed across your folds for Gojo to see.

“God, you’re such a slut.” Gojo utters, his cock stirring once more against his thigh. Even after Nanami’s show, he couldn’t help but still yearn for you. You’re such a good slut, and Gojo couldn’t get enough of you.

[imaginativeamateur]

[Gaara X Reader] You Feel Like Home {Prologue}

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Epilogue

Pairing: Gaara x gn!Reader

Note: Hello, so I decided to start a series for Gaara because I found the idea f cross-village dating quite unique:)) Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy!!!

It was unexpectedly cold. Shivering, you leaped from one branch to another, passing the tall trees in the woods. As an Ambassador from Konoha, being ambushed by seriously strong Ninjas on your way to Suna to discuss the two countries' affiliations was not something totally bizarre, but it did pretty much drain your energy. The two ANBU members at your company were fighting off the attackers far back. You were in no better condition either, you managed to cut them off but one of the attackers was now hot on your tail.

You tried to push the unconscious fear that started to form when you felt the ANBU's chakra signatures fading away and two more unfamiliar ones beginning to charge in your direction. Your left arm, stabbed deep by a kunai, now limping against your torso as you could not help but to slow down due to the blood loss. Carrying on would be a dangerous move, you figured, calculating the events in your head, you had to fight them.

Hissing, you wiped your forehead and leaned against a tree trunk. With your good hand, you hastily grabbed the weapon with all you might and pulled it out with one quick move. You tore a piece of cloth from your long, button-up shirt and wrapped it around the wound to stop the blood from flowing out. Just when you lifted your head to look back, the three attackers were standing in front of you with their eyes fixed on your poorly aided arm. You swore you saw one of them smirked.

"Who sent you here?" You questioned.

"You don't need to know," the middle one raised his voice, "you're going to die anyway. Tonight."

"I don't think so," you calmly replied, shifting to a fighting stance, "I wouldn't underestimate my opponent if I were you."

You disappeared out of sight and swiftly moved behind one of them, immediately threw a punch across his head, smashing his jaw. You did a backflip to dodge a kick from the one on the right and spun your foot to land a kick on him, making sure to cage him with your leg and pull him to the ground. The one in the middle had recovered from your hit and lunged forward, charging a kunai in your direction. He was clearly aiming at your disabled arm. You grabbed the one on the ground by his collar and used him as a shield, earning a painful groan from the Ninja. The metal pierced through his chest, one down, two more to go.

When you noticed there were only two fighting with you instead of three, it was too late. You were taking down the one who threw the kunai in an arm lock, which dislocated this shoulder, but you suddenly froze. Your body could not move, the man you were holding took leverage of the opportunity and punched you square in the face, knocking you backward. You dropped to the ground on your knees and coughed, your arm bled even more from the impact. You cursed but could not lift yourself up to standing, this must be the other one's jutsu, but it was not what Shikamaru used, there was no shadow.

You gathered all the remaining strength to your right arm, trying to move a single muscle, and you did, but it was taking too much time. You realized it would take forever to break the jutsu, if the attackers wanted you dead, the only possible option right now would be death. One of the secret techniques you developed over the past years training under the Godaime could enable you to fake your death, it was a medical jutsu that would stop one's blood flow for a while and put on the perfect cover of a dead body. You could be dead for some time and maybe they would leave you somewhere empty that you could eventually escape, the possibility was higher than having them kill you off right then and there. You waited for the Ninjas to approach while you had successfully lifted your hand to form a series of seals. The man did not seem to spot your little action. However, one thing you did not like about the technique was that it would literally make you dead with no possible awareness of the surroundings, actually dead. But it was your only option.