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romiithebirdie · 4 years ago

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From the Furthest Tether: Part One

"Oh, Izuku," his mother, Inko tsked, rolling up his shirt sleeve and checking over the scuffs and blisters along his arm. She honestly wished her son and the friends he chose to surround himself with would play more gently with one another. Knowing that children often played rough, Inko honestly had to admit that Izuku returning home each day with small burns and bruises was beginning to become more and more concerning.

She began chewing her lip in anxiousness when she heard the slap of leather shoes coming up from behind her and the front door of their home closing shut. A hand brushed through her own green locks and she let out a small giggle like a teenager when her husband pecked her on the cheek, returning from another long day at work.

Hisashi's light hazel eyes widened slightly at the marks on his four-year old's arms and he scowled, "Are those children still causing you grief, Izuku?"

Izuku's little friendship group consisted of three children in question, two quieter kids who went along with whatever their ringleader, Katsuki Bakugou implemented them in.

Bakugou, in Hisashi's own words was a temperamental little nuisance who took after his hot-tempered mother, Mitsuki far too much. The child had an air of superiority that was incredibly unnatural for a boy that age and his unpunished behaviour often set Hisashi's teeth on edge.

Especially when it involved abusing his gentle-natured son who only wished to befriend the little brat in question. Something that he found himself despairing over on a daily basis.

"That woman needs to reign that little demon in before he seriously hurts somebody," Hisashi growled, setting down his briefcase and muttering under his breath as he removed his blazer from his shoulders.

"You know how children can be, dear," Inko moved from crouching to kneeling on the carpet while glancing up at her husband.

Hisashi fought the urge to roll his eyes at his wife's attempts to reason with him. It was a common excuse that most people used to make light of a situation, something that many adults would often say when it came to dealing with Bakugou's behaviour.

"I blame that mother and soft-hearted father of his," he grumbled, folding his blazer over one of the chairs in their dining room. Inko watched from over her shoulder and she smiled warmly, trying to offer the man she loved a tiny bit of comfort.

"I'll call Mitsuki and talk with her about it, Hisashi. I'm sure we can work something out."

Hisashi let out a huff in response, leaving to fetch something from his study further down the hallway while running a hand through his white curls. Inko let out a soft sigh, shaking her head fondly yet tiredly, understanding completely how her husband felt about the issue with Izuku's supposed friends.

While she was proud that her baby was kind-hearted, she often had to admit she found herself growing concerned over the fact Izuku would make excuses for the children who treated him dreadfully. Inko was more lenient with situations like this but her husband was a different story...

Although she loved him, sometimes the odd spark of life in Hisashi's eyes triggered an emotion that she would try to blot out of her mind. It was something that she would find herself wondering about every now and again.

Her son snapped her out of her own thoughts when she felt a small tug on the sleeve of her crocheted cardigan.

"It's okay, Mummy," Izuku sniffled from the wooden stool Inko had fetched him. He offered her a watery smile and then uttered words that the woman was thankful that her husband hadn't been in the room to hear; "A hero sometimes has to deal with injuries worse than these! So I will too, so it can make me stronger!"

.-.-.-.

Stronger, huh?

The light bulb above his head needed changing.

Izuku watched from his bed as the dull light flickered like a burnt-out candle above him with a foggy mind, still fuzzy from recently waking from emergency surgery.

There was a howl of utter anguish coming from outside of Izuku's ward and further down the hallway. It almost sounded like Present Mic's voice, but the boy couldn't be completely sure. Something else was yelled out, about "her" being dead.

He had no idea who had died, nor did he want to know at this current moment in time. Closing his eyes tight, Izuku shuddered upon hearing the absolute broken wail that followed, echoing all the way up to his room and further along the other side of the corridor.

Everything had gone so wrong in the Jaku Raid. It was supposed to be simple for him and his class; evacuate civilians and leave the fighting to the Pro Heroes.

At first, everything had started smoothly. Izuku had gone with his classmates and followed orders like a model student, only a little concerned when the static buzzing of Endeavor called out to several heroes for back-up.

It's probably nothing, he had told himself, escorting an elderly couple along a footpath to where their family were waiting.

But then the decay began, killing heroes and civilians alike while tearing down multiple buildings and natural resources. Izuku and his friends had been forced to leap into action, immediately following one of Endeavor's sidekicks, Burnin, who was moving towards one of many areas of complete carnage.

Soon after, a voice spoke through his mind that would haunt him for years to come:

"It's down there."

One for All screamed out in response, like a telepathic wave telling him to move. To do something.

And he had complied.

He had lied to his closest friends and darted off into danger with the intent to lure Tomura Shigaraki's awakened form towards him and away from everybody in the vicinity. His childhood friend and fellow classmate, Katsuki Bakugou, had tailed him while wearing his trademark smirk. Together they had jumped straight into the lion's den and Shigaraki took the bait completely, immediately aiming for Izuku until his impending rescue courtesy of Gran Torino.

Shortly after narrowly avoiding death, Izuku had been spared from a painful demise by none other than Bakugou, who had pushed him away from the elongated, sharpened tendrils of one of Shigaraki's many Quirks.

Everything had become a blur from then, Izuku remembers the rush of fury emitting from his every being and he charged Shigaraki with only one intent in mind; to hurt the other male for almost killing his childhood friend.

The world had become a blur for Izuku soon after and he had appeared back in the dreamscape, brushing along the ghostly walls of the void of One for All and its' previous wielders. But this time, Shigaraki was also there, crouched low while All for One seemed to be growing out of his spine like an uprooted evergreen, coiling his arms around the younger male's body like thick vines ensnaring him.

He remembered how much All for One's words stung upon hearing the villain rasp them out at his younger brother who opposed him alongside Nana Shimura, the seventh holder of One for All who also happened to be Shigaraki's paternal grandmother.

"Your power has been wasted on someone who couldn't protect his own teach or friend, yet they were able to defend him! To think you conferred this power to somebody so worthless was a complete mistake!"

Although the vestiges had stood their ground against the century-old madman, the words clung to Izuku and ate away at his already crumbling self-worth. He had been utterly helpless, both in their realm and his world.

The rest of the fight was nothing but a blur, smudges of memories here and there as he fought consciousness upon his return to the physical world. Izuku recalls that he had tried to reach Shigaraki with Black Whip one last time because he had the sudden desire to rescue the manic villain from his inner demons, literally and figuratively speaking. To reach out towards somebody who had threatened his life on multiple occasions, taken Kacchan captive back at the Training Camp and then spent their most recent battle targeting the green-haired teen with the intent to snatch him away and tear his Quirk away from his body.

And then after that, I'd be murdered in the most gruesome way Shigaraki could think of, his mind inputted as an extra punch in the figurative gut.

Izuku had attempted to stand his ground once more, using a Froppy-inspired move with Black Whip streaming out of his mouth, but had been blasted back where he then remained consumed by the darkness until he awoke in a hospital bed attached to an IV drip and completely alone.

With everything that had transpired, he had barely done anything. The villains escaped and there were talks of a lot of heroes passing away in battle that Izuku had only heard through his bouts of drifting in and out of consciousness. He wandered if Gran Torino had survived the violent attack Shigaraki had dealt him. The elder had essentially been gutted in front of them all, yet Izuku had no clue where he had been taken. Izuku prayed he was alive, All Might had already lost a number of his closest friends, he didn't deserve the devastation of losing the man who cared for him after Nana's death.

I need some air, he told himself, struggling to his feet while gripping the IV with one shaking hand as he forced himself to move forward. He shakily began unscrewing the drip from his cannula, pushing the IV pole aside as he shuffled out of the ward.

He made it all the way through the empty halls and up the elevator until he reached the doors to the hospital rooftop, though he was still unsure of what the purpose of going up to the roof was about…

#bnha manga spoilers #izuku midoriya #all for one #tomura shigaraki #ao3 bnha #hisashi midoriya #inko midoriya #dadmight #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #dad for one #my writing

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 4 years ago

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Undertow (IV)

CH IV: Market Moments

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none

Listen to the audio version here!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Shawn felt slight guilt for letting the fib glide so smoothly off of his tongue. He and every other native to the town knew the market stands would have a slim chance of selling cheeseballs. Shawn knew not only because he works there, but also because he found the clear tub of the snack at an actual grocery store.

But the fib was worth it in his eyes. It resulted in Y/N running amuck in a quest for the orange snack, asking any patron she ran into where she could find some. Shawn just kept chuckling at her from his designated stand, apron tied around his waist. Anytime Brian noticed his employee’s lack of concentration during the beginning of the shift he would remind him in a stern tone to “keep your eyes on the bananas, not the girl.” And any bystander would have thought that comment triggered Shawn’s immediate tensing muscles and nostrils, flaring like a bull.

His employer knew, though, comments like those never put Shawn on edge like that. Brian’s eyes followed the young man’s gaze to see the same Y/N Shawn had introduced him to earlier that day. It was the stranger chatting her up, with his shoulder against one of the wooden beams nearby, that caught his attention. Based on the fuming reaction of the one beside him, the man piqued Shawn’s interest just as much. His sandy blonde hair and all-too-tight shirt made Shawn think to himself, why not just tattoo try-hard on your forehead?

“Jealous much?” Brian mumbles beside Shawn’s ear, resulting in a surprised yelp from the proximity. Though his emotions were undeniable, he refused them anyway.

“M’not.” Crossing his arms over his torso, Brian immediately patted one of his biceps in an attempt to bring them down.

“Don’t look so angry. Customers will think you’re unapproachable,” he hisses. Shawn obeys for the sake of his paycheck but refrains from straying his eyes from the two for long. Any customer who wanted assistance purchasing an item or had a question they demanded Shawn answer, the boy would only spare eye contact with them for fifty percent of the conversation.

“It’s been fifteen minutes. What could he possibly be talking about with her?”

Brian hums. “People talk about lots of things. Who knows, maybe they’re finding they have lots in common.” Shawn only scoffs at this.

“Please,” she’s a walking mermaid talking to a mooching lifeguard, Shawn thinks, “they have nothing in common.”

“Okay, how long can you hold your breath for?” Wesley’s lips form a devious smirk as the question leaves them. Y/N’s lips can only part, losing all acts of shaping anything near an answer. Her mind suffices a simple “just a while” seconds later, hoping it wasn’t too vague to beckon more questions. Lucky for her, it seems Wesley has a knack for caring more about the response to his own questions rather than hers. This was nothing new to Y/N, who did in fact, grow up with her father as a parent.

“My record is six minutes and fourteen seconds. It’s on my bucket list to beat the world record: twenty-two minutes and twenty-two seconds. I know it’s ambitious, but…” frankly, Y/N is growing bored of the conversation. As guilty as it sounds, she saw no point in speaking to Wesley when she would vanish from his world in a few days and head off to...somewhere else.

“Hey, let me ask you something,” she breaks off Wesley’s incessant chatting with a small smile and does not wait for his go-ahead to continue. “If you could go live anywhere on Earth, where would it be?” Wesley’s lips form a small ring as a strange, high-pitched tone leaves them. Y/N stands with wide-eyes and is too afraid to ask what that was or where it came from, deciding to stay silent.

“Does it have to be real, or can it be mythical?”

“I mean…preferably real, but--”

“Because my father always told me these stories when I was younger about this place on Earth. He claimed society was so different down there compared to the one on land, that he called it a world in our world.”

“D-down there?” Y/N responds in a meek voice, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah...Atlantis. You’ve heard the stories too, I’m assuming.”

“I mean...I’ve only seen it in that movie about the fish girl.”

“The mermaid,” he corrects.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Well, my dad described it differently. He said that their kingdom was built and crafted from a sunken city. Even after seeing it demolished and crumbled, the Atlanteans knew they could transform it into something incredible. And he went on about all these abilities they have, like how their eyes adjust naturally to the darkness of the water, how they have this innate connection to marine life and can communicate with any sea animal that crosses their path; they don’t even need to hold their breaths underwater!”

“Sounds like your father was a great storyteller…” Y/N chuckles nervously, eyes darting to the passing bystanders who continue giving Wesley concerning looks. Her blood was quickly running cold in fear of finding somebody with similar, piercing eyes Wesley’s father probably mentioned too.

“That’s the thing. My father might have been good at telling stories, but he is a horrible liar. I remember the fourth time asking him how Santa Claus could get into our house with no chimney and a locked door he could not come up with an answer and told me it was a myth. The same thing happened when I asked why we had to buy eggs when the Easter Bunny got millions for free. And when I asked how the Tooth Fairy had access to all the printing presses to international currencies without being arrested, he got upset with me...told me I was too smart for my own good.”

Y/N is slowly becoming baffled by the precarious names he is throwing out and decides to let him continue. Drawing any suspicion to herself due to confusion over well-known characters of the land-walkers is the last thing she needs.

“But, when it came to talking about Atlantis, he never seemed to run out of details. Any question I asked about it, he always seemed to have an answer for. I would ask more about it now because everything inside of me is telling me it’s a real place. But...I’m scared if I confront my dad about it…”

“He’ll tell you it’s fake.” Y/N pieces the end together for him. His lopsided smile slowly turns into that of a frown, earning a sympathetic gaze from Y/N. “Well, I don’t know how credible I am as a stranger, but…” She lifts a hand to rest on Wesley’s shoulder, “I think your father is right. You are too smart for your own good...and I think if such a place were to exist, there would be more evidence of it.” Wesley nods but soon pauses, becoming entranced by Y/N’s sincere gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice demands.

“Huh? Oh, nothing you just,” he clears his throat, “you have really pretty eyes.”

The orbs he was transfixed on moments before widen at this compliment. All at once, her mind rewinds itself to replay this afternoon with Shawn; his curls tickling her neck, the chuckle in his throat vibrating against her and her ruining their “moment”, a word she has yet to find a clear definition on. She also replays Connor’s entrance and comments about Shawn looking near ready to lock lips with her or be her utter demise through suffocation. Either activity sounded both passionate and intimate in a way Y/N was unclear about wanting with Wesley.

“Oh,” she whispers, dropping her arm from his shoulder in a haste.

“I-I’m sorry, that was awkward,” Wesley apologizes.

“No, no it’s alright. I just...I don’t want you to choke me,” she blurts, earning a few puzzled stares from those around them.

“What?”

“Or kiss me. Or...I don’t know, whatever happens in these moments.”

“Moments?” One of Wesley’s brows arch.

“Yes, a moment. Was that a moment? Because I think I just had my first one today and I’m not sure how--”

“Hey, Y/N, breathe.” He reaches both hands out to take her by the shoulders, quickly demonstrating a deep inhale and long exhale. She follows, mimicking his timed breaths down to the second. “It doesn’t have to be a moment if you don’t want it to be.” She nods, slowing her quick breaths and throwing a glance over her shoulder subconsciously for a quick peruse at Shawn’s figure behind the wooden stand. She smiles to herself, seeing his concentrating frame bend and twist meticulously to stack the bunches of bananas to perfection.

“Was it with Shawn?” Wesley asks. Y/N looks back toward him, pulling her brows together.

“Was…”

“Your moment. It was with Shawn, wasn’t it?”

“I..uh…” Her cheeks begin glowing red upon being caught.

“Hey, I’m not going to be upset.” He shakes his head, blonde streaks falling against his eyelashes. “Mendes and I might be tough on the water, but…” He takes his hands off of her shoulders, “I could never hate the dude enough to take his girl.” Y/N spares Wesley a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, preparing to pivot and return to Shawn’s stand.

“Oh, wait, Y/N--” the girl’s head turns back, humming.

“Where would you go, if you had the chance?” His question makes her eyes flicker down in thought, a pondering silence filling the air around the two.

“I’m not sure, actually. I don’t know if there is a place that could live up to this…” Through her answer, Wesley’s eyes met Shawn’s above her shoulder. Realizing he’d been caught, Shawn turned his body away, the feeling of dejection consuming his insides by the sight of his savior and worst enemy conversing.

“Well, just know a lot of people would miss you here if you left. More than just me,” he says, pressing a palm against his chest. Y/N looks behind her once more, only to be met with Shawn’s back.

“He would especially miss you.”

Another fond smile crawls onto her lips as she thanks Wesley again. When she turns to retreat to Shawn and Brian, the sinking feeling Wesley was awaiting inside of him felt more like a hot air balloon running off of helium than it did a whale with an anchor. As he begins walking in the opposite direction, sparing cursory glances at some of the products or swim trunks he walks past, his phone begins blaring its ringtone. He is stunned to pull it out and to be met with a pixelated version of his father and the name “DAD” overtaking the screen. Did his father finally keep his promise?

“Dad, hey!” The young man greets with exuberance.

“Hey, son. Finally got some free time…” Ripley announces at a regular volume. Hidden in between a few displays, he peers at Wesley slowly drifting from the curious girl, who was now speaking to an associate and pointing to the yellow fruits between them. “Tell me, how is it going? Did you win that surfing contest?”

“Yeah, but it kind of sucked to win now that I think about it. One of the other guys got really hurt.”

“Eh, I’m sure he’ll be fine. That’s what a rookie gets for going up against my son!” he barks a laugh. “I bet that trophy won you a couple of girls’ attention, huh?” Wesley gulps.

“I mean...not really--”

“Don’t lie to me, son. I can hear how lovesick you are. What’s her name?”

“Are you almost done yet?” Y/N groaned after Shawn finished up with a customer. She was sitting in a chair Shawn found under their table, picking at her nails in hopes that something interesting would happen.

“We’ve got another hour before we close up but then we have to put everything away so it’ll probably be an hour and 45 minutes before we can leave.” He shot her a smile as she dramatically slumped in the chair.

“They didn’t even have cheeseballs! I wasted half my day asking people if they had cheeseballs and they looked at me like I was insane.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help that she wanted the orange delicacy and in her opinion, these people were insane for not having it. “Just shut up and do your work so we can get out of here faster.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“I know what I want. Can you blame me?”

Shawn turned his back to her, opting to ignore her complaints instead of feed the fire.

“So you’re ignoring me now? Rude.”

He tried his best to keep the laugh in.

“That’s fine. I’ll find someone else to talk to.” She stood up and brushed off her pants, purposely bumping Shawn in the shoulder as she walked past. He reached out to grab her arms before she could get too far, forcing her to stop and turn around to look at him. “What, scared I’m going to find someone else to buy me cheeseballs?”

“Just stay safe.” There had been something nagging at his gut since he saw her with Wesley earlier and he was wary to let her out of his sight since then.

“Okay?” She gave him a funny look. “I’ll stay safe, no need to worry. Trust me, I know how to take care of myself.” It didn’t make Shawn feel much better but he let go of her anyways.

She walked off, only looking back once to shoot him a wink. He could only shake his head as he went back to work, wondering how it had been only one day and he was already infatuated with this girl.

Y/N walked around from table to table, actually taking the time to look at the contents this time. She didn’t have any money, as she found out earlier that day, but she still enjoyed looking at what each stand had to offer.

She looked around for a while before one stand in particular caught her eye. It was pushed back in a darker corner of the marketplace that people would probably miss if they weren’t paying attention.

She approached the table slowly, making sure to not startle the person running it, who seemed to be asleep in their chair. The table was decorated in an array of beachy looking stones and jewelry.

The person woke in her presence, sitting up and pushing their sunglasses up on their nose. “Why hello there.”

Y/N smiled at them, suddenly offset by their demeanor. She kept her gaze on the trinkets on the table, running her fingers over the symbols imprinted in them. Some posed a striking resemblance to the things she could find in her jewelry back home. Or, what used to be home.

“See something you like?”

“Yeah, they look a lot like-” She stopped herself, realizing that she almost revealed her identity.

“Like what?” They leaned forward, urging her to go on.

“Just, uh, something I saw in the store the other day.”

“You know,” They leaned back, crossing their arms over their chest. “Some say these came from Atlantis. Straight from the room of the princess.”

“Oh really?” She forced a laugh, retracting her hand to her chest. “Won’t the princess be upset that her things were taken?”

“She lives there no more. Ran away from an arranged marriage and was never found. I’m sure she cares very little about what happens to her old possessions.”

“That makes sense.” Her voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear herself.

“Please, take whatever you’d like. I’ll give it to you, half price.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I can’t.” She looked back to Shawn on the other side of the market, seeing him busy bagging some fruit for a customer.

“Are you sure? Such a beautiful girl deserves beautiful jewelry. Perhaps that boy you’ve been sitting with would want to get you a gift?”

“I really should get going.” Y/N nervously scratched her upper arm. “Thank you though.”

“Always! Come back any time.” They gave her a sly smile and she took a few steps back. “Have a great day.”

“Uh, you too.” She gave a polite smile and nod, turning around and hastily making her way back to Shawn.

The vendor pulled their sunglasses down from their eyes, revealing a pair of piercing green eyes. They pulled out a phone from their back pocket and unlocked it, clicking on the name Ripley in their contacts and bringing the phone to their ear.

Someone picked up at the last second, a gruff “what?” to greet the caller.

“It’s Merlin,” the vendor spoke. “I’ve got eyes on the subjects.”

Shawn’s post-work exhaustion and shopping trip from earlier in the day made heaviness caress his eyelids without complaint. Y/N hoped it would be the same for her, but she felt there was a kickdrum where her heart usually lied and the incessant wriggling of her toes beneath the bedsheets was impossible to control. This night in particular was when the girl felt scared to let sleep wash over her like a high-tide. Various scenarios of her waking up tomorrow without Shawn beside her or not in his bed played in her mind on an unrelenting loop.

The lime green digits on Shawn’s nightstand read 2:23 when the girl surrendered to the endeavor of catching shut-eye and opted for shuffling from beneath the covers and waddling to the kitchen. Despite seeing Shawn lock it earlier that night, she inspects the front door anyway. She does the same with the windows, even going as far as to flip the lock back and forth to build the small sense of security she felt. Even then paranoia still cloaked her mind and hypnotized her to grab the near-empty bin of cheeseballs from the kitchen cabinet and situate herself into a sitting position on the kitchen island, eyes pointed directly at the meager shard between the curtains of the kitchen window.

Slowly, the girl grew disoriented from the lack of sleep and stress harboring her for the last few days. The vision her distressed subconscious conjured is one far more macabre than she could have manifested while awake. Not only did they find her, but they kidnapped Shawn alongside her and drug him down to the depths of the water with no mercy. The scream he elicited when he no longer carried any valuable oxygen was muffled and distraught. Bubbles blurred his face, which, in turn, made tears build beneath Y/N’s eyelids. When she witnessed the facade of him go limp in the guard’s merciless hold and begin sinking, the whimpering pleas for him to wake up and escape quickly morphed to crackling screams.

When she heard his voice break through clear to her, the lids shielding her vision flung open. Immediately, her eyes stung from the contact of the cold air to her hot tears as she observed Shawn and Connor’s perturbed expressions. Glancing down, she found her arms stiff and cradling the bucket of cheeseballs to her chest.

“Uh…” she sits herself up, mimicking the position she was in last night before trying a buoyant tone of voice. “Good morning!”

“Good morning...you alright?” Connor lifts an eyebrow in Y/N’s direction, while Shawn is still lost for words after stumbling into her body tucked inwards and crying out for him.

“I’m good! Just came down for a...late-night snack. I must’ve closed my eyes for a few minutes.” She assures, holding up the plastic bucket for their eyes to study.

“Seems like you were here a little longer than that.” At this comment, she twists her body around and gasps at the numbers on the stove. The numbers 7:04 stared back at her menacingly.

“Woah,” she breathes out, whipping her head back to face Shawn and Connor. “My bad.”

“Were you feeling okay last night?”

“Yes,” she squeaks defensively. “I just...had trouble getting comfortable is all.” Crossing her arms, she refuses to meet Connor’s questioning eyes and Shawn’s features, still locked in place. “I’m going to the bathroom.” Y/N excuses herself in a mumble before sliding off of the counter and scurrying through Shawn’s open bedroom door, shutting it behind her. When a second closing door sounded, Connor looked directly at Shawn’s profile.

“So, you’re not gonna tell her what you heard?” Shawn glanced down to his fingers, picking at his nails.

“Why should I?”

“I mean, if a girl I was into confessed her love for me in her sleep I wouldn’t be standing there keeping quiet.”

And Shawn’s initial reaction was quite the opposite. When Y/N murmured “I love you” followed by his name an undeniable smirk tugged the corner of his lips. The man wasn’t quite sure he felt smitten at the same level, but he could surely reach it. And he wanted to, but the only thing stopping Shawn from planting a kiss to her lips the moment her eyelids fluttered open happened to be the echo of her cautionary messages playing on a loop in his brain. Both knew their relationship already pushed boundaries that threatened their lives to those looking for Y/N and to draw any more attention to themselves would be a ludicrous choice.

Furthermore, Y/N has shown no signs of traveling these last few days. For Shawn to jeopardize this new affair by selfishly wanting more out of it would only result in her packing her bags and leaving. She even preached that she would only provide Shawn with a load of heavy burdens and trouble. He begs to differ, since the moment they crossed paths, his woes were as scant as raindrops. But even in this unacknowledged intimacy, Shawn understood he must reciprocate the blurred lines, throw out the words he can never say to her, realize that she could up and leave any day now.

This new friendship was one Shawn was riding like a bumpy wave. And each time he thinks he may be near the end he plummets back into the thought of her. Every being of Shawn wants to follow Y/N’s instruction and keep paddling to the next wave to sweep him up.

“It was just a dream, Con. It didn’t mean anything.”

Whether or not he had admitted to himself, though, he was already snagged beneath by her undertow. The depth she chooses to yank him down to could be the least of his worries. The only doubt suffocating him is the matter of her deciding to let him go.

Look out for the next part of Undertow coming out 2/19/21!

Join the taglist to see what happens next!

Taglist: @fallinallincurls @ilumxna @lonelyreputation @purely-imagines-and-fantasies @shawnmxndxs @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @sillyquirkymendessupporter @itsalwaysbeen305 @friendlyneighborhood-mendes @marissje @princessmia1705 @rosetoronto @itrocksmysocks @organicpurplepants

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athenadione · 4 years ago

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at the edge of the precipice: chapter 2 WARNING: triggers of suicide, violence and gore, angst, etc.

There’s a pang in his chest when he watches her fight her body to stay awake, desperate to cling to consciousness, and he has to admit there’s a part of him that so selfishly wants to keep her awake too because what if she doesn’t wake up again for another three years?

But he wills that fear to ebb and he nearly smiles at the way she reaches out for him even as her eyes are drooping closed. He takes her hand in his and squeezes.

“Rest Raven, I’ll be here.” He tells her and the smile she gives him takes his breath away. An emotion swells in his throat and he swallows thickly. He hasn’t seen her smile in three years and he drinks it in, and he doesn’t think that he’ll ever get enough of her rare smiles.

When she finally succumbs her hand goes limp in his own and Damian closes his eyes, reminding himself that she just went to sleep and she is still very much alive. He knows he can still feel her pulse from the underside of her wrist.

He takes a moment to replace the IV in her arm and reset the machine, only stopping when he can hear the steady monotone, proof that she is indeed alive. He sits in the silence and watches her chest rise and fall with each breath.

His thoughts take him back to their conversation. I’m glad no one remembers, but she did, and he can- has imagined what that reality was like to see all of their friends and family die.

He knows that there’s so much more to what happened that she’s not telling him, and when she’s feeling stronger he plans on confronting her; but not now.

Instead he’ll watch her breathe over and over, and think back to a time where everything was normal, back before they met in the hangar when Raven passed out in his arms.

She groans slowly and shifts in her bed. Her face is pinched like she’s in pain and he’s at her side in an instant. He releases a breath when she settles a second later and her face is bliss once more. He takes in the gray of her skin and the sweat along her brow. She’s never been tan but now she’s so pale and so small he worries that she’s a ghost and she’ll disappear at any moment.

But then she whispers his name and his heart stops in his chest. The sound of his name on her lips fills him with an emotion he doesn’t know how to name anymore, but he does know that he would gladly do anything to be able to hear it again and again.

His fingers reach out to brush her hair- like he had so many times in the past while he waited for her to wake up- and he plays with a strand for a moment and he’s enthralled by how soft and silky it feels in between his fingers.

She’s beautiful, he thinks, and a smile graces his lips when he recalls that was the very thing she called him after she’d awoken. He didn’t know what to say then, didn’t know how to tell her that he had always thought she was beautiful. There was no way for him to be able to put into words what he felt in that moment, awake and in his arms after three fucking years.

He would have gone through any Apokolips war to have been able to take her place, to sacrifice those years so that she could live on, but he didn’t get the chance, and so he’ll stay by her side and do whatever he can to shield her from this new reality she’s found herself in.

Damian sighs and leans back into his chair. He looks down at the text that pops up on his messages. Father wants to see her, but he tells him not yet.

He’ll bring her to the manor tomorrow.

Raven is the strongest person he knows, he decides, when she walks into the manor on two feet. He watches her grab the handrail that leads up the grand steps to the balcony overhead. Her hair cascades down her back gracefully and he believes that if given the chance he could get lost in it forever . She rests for a moment and he’s moving when she sways slightly. As he places a hand at her elbow she looks up into his eyes and she tries to wave him off.

“I’m fine, Damian.” She says but he disagrees and he knows he’s being stubborn but he refuses to remove his hand.

He says nothing and she purses her lips, like she’s about to say something dry and sarcastic and he wants to grin because he’s missed that so much, but doesn’t because Bruce is now crossing the room to the two of them. Damian knows that Bruce caught the near smile on his face and he shoots him a glare before his face becomes unreadable once more. He trusts his father with his life but there’s still a small voice in the back of his mind that tells him that emotion is a weakness, and he’s still compelled to listen- especially when he’s anywhere near Batman.

“Raven, it’s good to see you.” Bruce calls out and Damian wonders how he’s able to sound so commanding yet gentle at the same time. Alfred is close behind and he feels more than sees Raven straighten to face them both.

“Batman…” Raven trails and for a small moment her voice sounds so haunted Damian instinctively pulls her into his side and wraps an arm around her shoulder to try and shield her.

She doesn’t shy away from the Bat and Damian can’t help but feel proud at the way she faces her past and she takes a small step forward towards his father. Her hand reaches out, almost angelic, and everyone is suddenly so quiet Damian can feel the tension in the air.

“May I?” Raven nearly whispers and Batman stills, giving her an almost imperceptible nod. Damian’s eyes focus on his father’s for a moment when he sees the way he softens as she trails his jaw with her fingers.

“Real.” The whisper is so low that Damian almost misses it, but he catches it and he swallows back the sudden lump in his throat.

He and Bruce pass a glance and his heart drops.

“No.” He says and Raven looks back at him, confused, but his eyes are on his father’s.

“We need to know what happened.” Bruce’s voice is sympathetic but he’s still insistent and Damian knows that he’s right but he didn’t see the look on her face when she remembered.

“She just woke up father. It’s unreasonable to ask her to recall what happened so soon, especially since Darkseid is now destroyed.”

Bruce stares at him with that impenetrable gaze.

“It’s possible there’s a reason she remembers, Damian. We need to find out . ”

He bristles as his anger rapidly rises and he sneers.

“Why? You of all people should know that Barry has no real control over what happens after a flashpoint. Why make her re-live what she went through so soon if it’s for nothing?”

Batman’s eyes narrow dangerously and Damian is now sensible enough to realize he may have said too much, gone too far, but a part of him doesn’t care. He’s angry and not necessarily looking for a fight, but he’s more than willing to. It has been awhile since he’s gone toe-to-toe with his father, but he knows he can hold his own now.

Raven’s hand touches his arm lightly and he blinks, anger dissipating to a low simmer at the pleading in her eyes. He shoots his father another glare of warning before turning to her.

“I’ll show you.” She says towards Bruce and her lips press into a thin line. Damian opens his mouth to protest but she holds up her hand and he respects her wish for his silence and she turns to him.

“Batman has a point, and it may mean something or it may not… but it’s worth exploring if there’s even a possibility that something could happen.”

She closes her eyes tightly, releases a shaky breath, and opens them again with a nod. She’s not ready, he thinks but it’s her decision and she seems confident and he believes in her.

Her hands lift to hold either side of Bruce’s face.

“Wait,” He interjects and Raven looks back to him with a look of confusion, “Show both of us.” He finishes.

Her face suddenly becomes unreadable. Bruce thankfully stays silent.

“No.” Her voice is so matter-of-fact and Damian can feel his face heat up in anger even as he prepared for her answer. He somehow knows that there are absolutely no words that he can string together to convince her to allow him into her mind. His jaw tightens and he crosses his arms and he can’t believe that she doesn’t trust him.

“I trust you Damian, with my life.” She tells him and he realizes that his thoughts were so loud she heard them through the bond that was created ever since she healed him the very first time in Titans Tower when he was on the brink of death.

“I… can’t.” She tells him through their bond.

His chest tightens at the rawness of her voice and he can hear an echo of the brokenness within her, and Damian’s anger is replaced with concern. He’s suddenly regretting not holding his ground against this but her eyes are already shining a pure white and she chants her mantra.

Her fingers press into Bruce’s face and she reveals her soul-self and Damian has always looked at her shadow raven in awe and now is no different. It shines a glittery white, and it flows with so much raw power that he can feel it reverberating off her in waves.

It was only a few seconds, but he has a feeling that to Raven and his father time has passed much slower, and when her soul finally pulls back within herself she collapses. His adrenaline spikes and he lurches forward to cradle the back of her head before she hits the tile, and he shifts them so that she falls against the length of his body, wrapping one arm around her waist.

He settles her against him and when he’s certain that she is okay, just knocked out, he looks up to his father.

Fear shoots down his spine when he sees Bruce’s face so pale and so tormented.

“Master Bruce? Are you alright?” Alfred calls out to him with concern lining his features and his father blinks and says nothing. He looks to Raven and his stare is so far away Damian is left wondering just exactly what he saw, and he’s certain that now is not the time to ask.

Bruce clears his throat, “Alfred would you put some tea on? Chamomile.”

“Yes, of course sir.”

Damian’s eyes narrow because that’s Raven’s favorite tea and she only drinks it when she’s feeling distressed, but he says nothing as his father walks away soundlessly. He knows where he’s going and he has an urge to follow for backup because he knows that Bruce is livid and he has a tendency to lose control in his blinding rage, but right now Raven is his priority. So he scoops her up effortlessly and walks the familiar pathways to the room that he hasn’t stepped foot in since before.

It only takes seconds to contact Dick through the com-link.

“East side, patrol pattern 3. Keep an eye on him.” He says and Dick doesn’t ask why or how he knows what patrol his father is on because he knows that Damian makes it his business to know exactly who’s on patrol, when, and where. There’s a short and clipped affirmative and Dick cuts out. Damian glances down at Raven in his arms and he’s beginning to notice how light she is. It worries him that she’s lost so much muscle mass and he has no idea how long it will take for her to acclimate, if ever.

He just has to trust that she’ll have the courage to keep moving forward.

The steel piping is cold in her hands and it’s the first time in probably weeks since she’s felt something other than pain. She welcomes it and the pipe is whispering to her sweet promises of silence. All she wants is for her misery to go away and she lifts the jagged end up towards her face. It would only take seconds for it all to end and she can finally forget.

For a moment, she hesitates. She looks out across the Bay and watches the rapid stream of water flow in front of her. The reflection of the setting sun captures her attention and glitters across the Bay in swaths of pink and yellow and orange.

The light is a beacon, and her grip on her pipe feels numb in comparison to the redemption it offers. She is so tempted to put it down and allow the sun to swallow her whole in its warmth, and she closes her eyes when Trigon laughs maniacally in her mind, “You’re a fool Raven, for thinking the sun can save you.” She swallows back a choked sob.

Flashes of her teammates are strewn across her vision and she sees the paradooms swarm them all. She’s forced to watch one take hold of Wonder Woman, the strongest woman she knows, while the other one ruthlessly takes hold of her arm and tears. Another shows the spike crashing down just as it pierces Nightwing through his sternum. One focuses on Damian’s face, his pure horror and grief, as he runs to his brother in desperation but he’s also thrown back, disappearing completely in the water followed by the dark stain of his blood.

She also thought he had died then.

It’s all too much and she can’t take it anymore. She shakes her head but she can’t forget. The visions play back and rewind in her mind over and over like a screenplay gone rogue and there’s nothing she can do to turn it off.

Then she opens her eyes with a pure moment of clarity that she does have control over her memories because she can end it all now, right here. And the sharp edge shines and with the smallest prayer to Azar she raises it, closes her eyes, and she so badly wants to take the plunge.

“Raven.”

She awakes with a gasp and shoots up to a sitting position, trembling and soaked in sweat. She sits up too fast though, and a wave of dizziness has her leaning back when those familiar black spots dance along her vision. She’s heaving and struggling to breathe when she doesn’t recognize the room that she’s in. Her eyes scan the lavender painted walls and her panic spikes when she doesn’t see Damian.

“Raven, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare.” Kori pops up in her vision, her eyes lit with concern and she does her best to give her a reassuring smile. The tightness in her chest eases with the familiar face of her leader, who is still whole and untouched by the violence of Darkseid’s war, but the heaviness of her dream still weighs her down and holds her in its vice grip.

“Not a dream Kori… a memory.” She gasps and closes her eyes and struggles through her mantra. The words are comforting and she wills her heartbeat to slow down as Kori puts a gentle hand on her arm in understanding.

“Must’ve been some memory.”

A new face peeks through the doorway, then walks completely into the room and Raven furrows her brows in confusion. She would have thought from first glance that he was Damian, but this man was taller and bigger . His black hair looks just like the others and despite the white strip that runs through it, there’s no doubt that he’s a part of the Bat family. He walks with a swagger that’s so different from Damian’s more subtle and stealthy gait. This man wants the world to know who he is. Unfortunately for him, she has no idea.

“Do I know you?” She asks and the easy smirk on his face falls for a moment, before he plasters it on again.

“Come on Raven, you wound me. Don’t tell me you don’t remember your favorite Robin.” She thinks he’s teasing.

Kori shifts beside her and rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous Jason, you’re lucky to even be considered her friend.” Friend?

The man clucks in disagreement and pulls up a chair. He joins her on the other side of her bed in one swift movement.

“I’m everyone’s favorite sweet cheeks.” He turns away from Kori and back to her, “But don’t worry princess, it doesn’t bother me if you want to pretend you don’t know me. Wouldn’t be the first time.” His grin broadens as Kori reaches over to shove him backwards.

“And it won’t be the last.” Kori quips back, “Don’t you have something better to do than bother us? Raven still needs rest.”

“She’s been sleeping for three goddamn years Kori, I’m sure she’s ready to move around a bit.” His eyes waggle and Kori looks like she’s ready to say something else to spite him and Raven interjects,

“Actually, yeah. That would be nice to get out of bed.”

She drags a shaky hand through her hair and avoids looking at the man who is apparently named Jason because she’s uncomfortable that someone she doesn’t know is seeing how weak she is. He mumbles something under his breath that she doesn’t catch and when she looks up she sees that the laughter in his eyes are gone and he’s looking at her with what she thinks is an intense curiosity.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks and Raven is confused.

“About what?”

“Your memory.”

“Ah,” Her eyes light up in understanding and she glances away as her fingers tighten around the blanket, “No.”

Kori begins to argue with him again, claiming that he was rude to be so forthright and Jason looks affronted. He’s very animated, she decides, when he colorfully tells her what he thinks of her coddling. Her eyes drift to the room that looks so empty, save for the bookshelf and nook in one corner for reading- with old and new novels, tomes, and scrolls that look eerily like the ones she read in Azarath. There is a desk that holds a vase filled with lavender and white roses that compliment the shades of color on the walls.

“Where’s Damian?” She interrupts them with the sudden thought that he isn’t here and the loss of his presence is a strange feeling because he’s been by her side ever since she woke. She fingers a strand of hair that falls over her shoulder and Kori takes notice.

“He had to step out for a moment and he asked us to watch you. He’ll be right back.” Kori told her and she gestures to her hair, “Can I braid it?”

Raven glances down at the sleek, silky strands, realizing for the first time that it is probably the softest it's ever been, all because of Kori. She nods slowly and leans forward when Kori moves to sit on the bed beside her.

“I hope you don’t mind that I touched it. No one wanted to cut and I didn’t want it to get knotted.”

Jason snorts and Kori shoots him a glare, but he remains silent and watches them closely.

“I- thank you, Kori. That’s one of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for me.” Raven admits and Kori seems pleased because she hums in satisfaction as she picks up the brush resting on the bedside table.

“I’ve always thought of you as a sister Raven. My own is… an evil dictator and very psychotic. I like to think that this is how sistership should really be.”

Raven is taken aback by the sincerity in her voice and she’s speechless, but Kori doesn’t seem to mind. She’s thankful that Kori understands.

“You wouldn’t believe how many times Damian has asked to brush it instead.” Kori brushes her hair absentmindedly, and Raven is taken aback once more at her words. Jason laughs out loud this time and leans forward with his elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

“You lovebirds make me sick. I can’t believe how many hours he sat with you. He even read your favorite books to you out loud.”

His words are meant to be comforting with a tint of humor but Raven is reeling and her breathing speeds up again. Kori’s soft movements against her scalp isn’t enough to distract her from a different feeling she doesn’t understand that is swelling inside of her so quickly.

“Lovebirds?” She whispers. She watches as Jason stills, the tension cold and thick, like ice, but Kori doesn’t seem to notice. He’s stopped and she has a sinking feeling that there’s something they know that she doesn’t- and he’s realized it too- and she’s also beginning to think that not being able to remember Jason is not from mere coincidence.

“It nearly killed him when you didn’t wake up Raven.” She shrugged her shoulders, the movement causing her to tug lightly on her hair, “I mean, you guys had already been dating for a year. It all kind of happened so fast.”

She continues talking but Raven can no longer hear her. She’s hyperventilating now and Jason shoots up from his chair and both of them are in her face, lips moving, but she can’t hear, can’t see, can’t breathe.

When the darkness envelops her again she welcomes it.

#full text #fanfic #fanfiction #damian x raven #damirae #damien wayne #damian wayne is robin #raven #dcau #au #justice league dark #justice league dark: apokolips war #ateotp

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years ago

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-One

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: Happy Holidays fuckers

A/N: also trigger warning for Nik's pos dad, and,,,,, nah i think that's it. Enjoy <3

Not a day after Lev was officially banished, Biela showed up. She was brisk, not even giving Lev the chance to acknowledge the two people she’d brought along. He was to be on house arrest, enforced by a spell that the witch she’d brought along would place on him. The fact that he was allowed up to fifty feet away from the house caught him by surprise; he’d fully expected to be confined to the inside. At least this way he could follow the kids in the pool or out into the yard, though Biela had made it clear he wasn’t to be outside alone.

She’d concluded this meeting by warning Lev that the house arrest would last until he proved he wasn’t a security risk. That meant Lev needed to learn how to defend himself, to Biela’s standards.

Lev understood. There was no third chance. If Lev got killed by a demon, it’d be detrimental to Cameron’s functioning. Not to mention Lev wasn’t sure how he’d handle being kidnapped by one. All of that aside he did want to know how to protect his children.

Biela had left with the witch when it was all done. The man she’d brought, who Lev learned was her brother Caius, stuck around long enough to exchange a few words with them, though Lev got the feeling it was more to get a good feel for who Lev was as a person than anything else.

Once all that was done and over with, Lev realized he still had a full day. Cameron had Eden, and Lev didn’t have the energy to fight him while Cameron reestablished his schedule. Instead, Lev ventured downstairs, something else on his mind.

He found Sazra in her room, like he’d expected. He knocked on the doorway when she didn’t look up right away, but having her silver eyes pinning him in place didn’t exactly put him at ease.

“Hi,” he said lamely, unsure of where to start.

“Can I help you?” she clipped out.

“I hope so,” Lev said, trying not to fidget. “I wanted to ask you about suppressants. I don’t know if demon suppressants will work for me, or if I need to get angelic suppressants, but-”

“And you’re asking me why?”

Lev blinked. “Because you’re a healer?” He said hesitantly. “I figured you out of everyone in the house would know about the way I’d react to demonic suppressants.”

Sazra lifted a brow. “Why would you think that when you think your healing is superior to mine?”

Oh. Lev fidgeted for a moment, before, “I’m not versed in medicine,” he started, and then hesitated. “If I’ve offended you...” He trailed off, looking for the right words. “It’s what I was taught,” he finally said, honestly. “And I never stopped to check my bias. I just parroted what I've been told for my entire life. I didn’t think about it at all.”

“I can see that. It’s rather arrogant of you.”

Lev didn’t think he’d ever been called arrogant before in his life. She wasn’t wrong though. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “It was.”

“Hm.” She thrummed her long nails against the wooden table, but didn’t offer any more words other than that.

Lev stared at her for a long time, unsure of what to say. In the end, he said simply, “Can I try to make amends? I was out of line.”

Her nails clicked on the table. “I’ll help you. Not because you apologized, but because Cameron is my boss and I owe him my life. Anything else?”

“No,” Lev said. “Thank you.” He paused halfway out the door, and turned back. “I haven’t had a heat in about a month and a half. If that helps anything?”

“I am aware. You can go now.”

Lev took that dismissal and slipped back upstairs.

---

After some searching, Lev found Nik in the back with Eden. He had her in the pool, in a cute black swimsuit with pink polka dots and ruffles. Eden was screaming happily as she splashed Nik. Lev padded to the edge of the pool, sitting down and dropping his feet in the water.

“Hi,” Lev said, smiling slightly.

Nik paddled over, dragging a giggling Eden with him. “I had to put sunscreen on her,” Nik said solemnly. “She probably burns faster than Cameron does.”

“Probably,” Lev agreed. He reached out, patting Nik’s hair. “Nik... do you want to talk about it? Any of it?”

“What part of dragging a screaming infant out to the pool suggests I want to talk about anything?”

Lev shrugged. “I thought I’d offer. We probably should eventually.”

Nik dunked under, though he kept Eden above the water. “Sure.”

“Are you okay?” Lev asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have you, I have Eden, I have Cameron. Everything is going back to normal.”

“You’re pregnant, I’m exiled, and I told you I lost my pregnancy in the worst way possible.” Lev hesitated. “A lot has happened. And... it’s easier to worry about you than it is to deal with everything right now.”

“Well as you can see, I am the picture of health.”

“Physically, sure,” Lev agreed. “I don’t think anyone in this house is mentally healthy.”

“Hm. Well.” Nik moved Eden to his hip, not even blinking when she smacked his face. “Is that your professional opinion, Doctor Lev? I had not realized you had gotten a psychology degree in Ghost Land.”

“Nik, please,” Lev said softly, but he really didn’t have it in him to fight. In the end, he just gave a small sigh. “Fine. We can talk about it later.”

Nik went back to playing with Eden, so Lev splashed a foot lightly and watched Eden grabbing at the water. Lev would have been content to watch, but Nik grabbed his ankle. “Nik, don-”

Nik yanked Lev in the pool, clothes and all. After sputtering at Nik while Eden shrieked, first in surprise and then in delight, Lev glared at Nik. “I’m dressed.”

“Oh?” Nik said innocently.

Lev swatted his shoulder gently. “You could have let me go find a swimsuit. Now I’m soaked.”

Nik simply hummed. “Yeah... Oh well. Better luck next time.”

Lev huffed, and reached for Eden. “Give her over. I want a turn.”

“Mm. My baby,” Nik said, kissing Eden’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Eden shrieked, grabbing at Nik’s hair. “See? All the ladies want me.”

Lev huffed, wading closer. He grabbed Nik’s sleeve when Nik tried to pull back, but was distracted by Cameron appearing.

“Phone,” Cameron said, looking annoyed.

Lev patted his pocket, and then held up the waterlogged device. “Nik pulled me in,” he offered apologetically. He set it down on the side of the pool. “I forgot I had it in my pocket.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” was all Cameron said. “Don’t do that again.”

“Tell Nik to not to pull me in,” Lev mumbled, before looking up at Cameron.

“I’m not his mother. You do it,” was all Cameron had to say before left.

“Yeah,” Nik parroted. “He’s not my mother.”

Lev splashed him and Eden both. Eden screeched, slapping the water herself. A laugh bubbled up, real and genuine. Lev turned away long enough to take off his sopping sweater and drop it beside the ruined phone.

This was worth it, he decided, dropping a kiss on Eden’s cheek. It was worth all of it.

---

Nik spent the next few hours getting a restless Eden under control and unconscious while also wandering around the house. Cameron seemed to be off in his study, doing Cameron Things and Lev was doing Lev Things. He was about to go see if he could bully Cameron into making stuffed peppers, when there was a knock at the doors. He was this close to ignoring it, and letting one of Cameron’s lackeys get it themselves, but he was closest to the door.

When he pulled the doors open, he felt his stomach drop. He had no idea why his father of all people decided to stand right in front of him, with that irritatingly neutral look on his face, especially in Demonic Territory. But he was. “Papi.”

Az’ril looked Nik up and down slowly enough Nik folded his arms over his chest, trying to hide his stomach out of sheer self-consciousness. Though it was completely useless and they both knew it. “You are pregnant.”

Nik felt heat rise in his face. “It’s Cameron’s,” he said, instantly.

“Hm.” He looked past Nik for only a second before saying, “Are you going to let me in?”

Nik took a wordless step back and to the side. There was no point in arguing, not when he was pregnant and he wasn’t going to risk the safety of either himself or his baby just when he decided he was going to keep the little leech who decided to continuously steal his food.

His father wasn’t even two steps in the house before both Cameron and Lev decided to come into the hallway from two separate directions.

Well that was just fantastic.

“Az’ril,” Cameron said, mildly. “To what do I owe this unannounced visit?”

Az’ril’s golden brown eyes flicked Cameron’s way. “I was not aware that I needed an invitation or to announce myself to visit my youngest.”

Cameron lifted a brow and stopped right behind Nik, close enough Nik could almost feel Cameron’s body heat. “How would you be aware when you do not ask? Or visit in the last year or so, but I digress.”

Lev stopped next to Nik and tried to take his hand. Nik only shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and said nothing. Az’ril’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but completely dismissed Cameron and turned his full attention back to Nik. “Let’s speak. Alone.”

“Nik,” Lev said, quietly.

He could feel Cameron’s gaze on him, letting him take the lead on however Nik wanted to move forward. Nik only lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, sure. I think we can find a room.”

He shouldered past Lev, without so much as a glance, aware his father was right on his heel without needing to be told to follow. He found the nearest office space and went in, immediately going to open the windows when he heard the door click behind him.

“So,” Nik said, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded over himself once more. “You wanted to talk…?”

Az’ril made himself at home by sitting in the desk chair. He glanced around the orderly office, taking note of the very sharp, immaculate furniture. “He seems to have inherited a great deal from his former station,” Az’ril noted.

“Yeah,” Nik said. “I imagine being raped every day for five hundred years, a fancy house was the least they could give him. But what do I know.”

The vaguest look of distaste crossed his father’s features. “Your crassness is bound to lose its charm,” he said, leaning back. “Especially now that you are pregnant. Even if it is with a demon’s spawn, and an illegitimate one at that. That cute attitude isn’t going to get you far much more.”

“I’m sure my cute looks will make up for it,” Nik said.

“We’ll see.”

The tightness in his chest didn’t let up a single bit, if anything it just reached further into his throat, making it that much harder to keep an unruffled appearance. The razor sharp look in his father’s eyes suggested Az’ril was more than aware. And he was unimpressed.

“How does the demon feel about your pregnancy,” Az’ril said. “Doesn’t quite seem the paternal type. As far as I’m aware, demons tend to eat their young.”

Nik chewed on his lip piercing. “He’s fine with it.”

“Is he?”

“That’s what I said,” Nik said, not able to keep the irritability out of his voice. “If you’re wanting a birth announcement, I’ll be sure to ship you one in the post. Is there anything else you wanted?”

“Actually there is,” Az’ril said.

Nik waited expectantly, trying to not squirm under that golden look.

“I do not think your demon is equipt to adequately care for a pregnant angel,” he said. “And I do not wish for a disgraced outcast to be caring for my child.”

Nik blinked. “I- what? Then where, exactly, do you expect me to go?”

“Your rooms are being set up as we speak,” his father replied. “A nursery as well, as you’re obviously keeping the child. Even if it’s part demon, your status is of mine, and I will not be having it or you here any longer. It’s about time you stopped playing house and returned to where you belong.”

“...I belong with Cameron and Lev,” Nik said.

Az’ril stood fast enough that Nik’s spine straightened on sheer instinct. “You need to stop with these convoluted fantasies of yours,” His father said, sharply. “You will come home, even if I have to drag you by your ear to do so. It’s for your own good, Nikolas.”

“But- what about them?”

“They are not my concern.” He crossed the desk. “This is my own fault,” he said. “I gave you too much freedom and left you unchecked and now your inability to take responsibility for any of your actions has led you unmarried, unmated and pregnant. So now, you will be coming home, and you will be letting me take care of you. End of discussion. Are we clear.”

Nik’s eyes trained to the ground. “Yes sir.”

“Better. Now go get your things, because we need to be leaving.”

Nik pushed off the wall and left the office as fast as he could go without sprinting out of the room. He shoved open the bedroom doors and went for the closet. He stopped dead in his tracks outside of it, anxiety clawing at his throat, but he forced himself forward to get his shit so he could get out of here.

“What’s going on?” Nik heard Lev ask from the doorway.

Nik stopped dead in his tracks before resuming once again. “Going home,” was all Nik said, going to toss a few of his jackets onto Cameron’s bed.

“This is home.”

Nik chewed on his bracelet and went back into the closest for more clothes. “Yeah, and so is Tullum. Papi is insistent on me coming home so he can take care of me while I’m pregnant.” He tried to keep the irritability out of his voice. It wasn’t Lev’s fault that Nik’s omega decided to kick into self preservation mode now.

Horrible timing, really.

“He won’t take no for an answer,” Nik said, dropping the rest of his clothes on the bed. “So I’m going home.” He fixed a smile in place. “That’s what’s best for the baby, am I right? Got to get the special angel healers and- and it’s a family thing. I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

Lev stared at him for a moment. “You can’t go with him. It’s not what’s best for the baby and it’s not what’s best for you.”

“And you devised that in what, the five minutes of interaction with him?” Nik asked, sharply. “Family clearly does not mean the same thing to you as it does to me and mine. There are traditions and- and I just.” Nik exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered under his breath in spanish and went back to packing. There was no point. “I don’t have a choice and it’s not like you can stop him.”

“Nik,” Lev said softly. “I know people scare me all the time, but... not like him. Not like that.” He crossed the room, trying to take Nik’s hand as he said, “I won’t let him take you.”

Nik shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to die again?” Nik demanded, voice cracking. “You seem to forget that I am the only one in my family without magic. My family deals and trades in death and he has the power to absolutely obliterate anyone. Especially someone with no ties or protections offered by angels anymore. You literally just defied the laws of nature. Don’t get between us and ruin it for nothing.”

Lev’s face was the fiercest he’s ever seen from him. “You’re mine, and I’m not going to let him take you from us.”

Nik bit into his lip so hard he could taste the honey sweetness of his blood. He didn’t have an argument for that, especially when Lev’s head was annoyingly big when he was being annoyingly protective. It clearly meant he couldn’t listen to reason or fact. His father was just… he was death.

He put his head on Lev’s shoulder, not saying another word.

Nik was snapped out of his trance the moment he heard the sharp order in spanish to hurry up. His head lifted and sure enough his father was standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. “We need to get going.”

Lev looked at Az’ril. “He’s not going with you.”

Cameron appeared like a wraith in the doorway behind his father, eerily silent and perfectly unruffled as he sidestepped Az’ril as if he were little more than a stool in his way. “Nikolas can take his time,” he said, coolly. “As much of it as he wants.” His pale eyes slid towards Nik, looking for his stance.

Cameron was going to follow Nik’s play, no matter what he wanted for himself. He’d let them all make their decisions and damn themselves, but it would always be their decision. He’d have no part in shaping it.

When Nik looked down at the ground, Cameron then said, “Of course, if I wanted, I could keep him here. He’s pregnant with my child and as it would be my property, so is Nik.” The sheer, so very faint distaste in those words in Cameron’s tone didn’t go unnoticed by Nik. “I’m sure you, someone of such high political standing, would understand that.”

Nik didn’t dare say a fucking word, even as Lev positioned himself between Nik and Az’ril.

His father locked eyes with Cameron. Cameron was several centuries younger than his father, even if Cameron felt eons older in the icy, composed stance he was taking. “My son is not your property,” Az’ril bit out.

“By demonic law,” Cameron said, mildly, “he is. The moment you decided to send your son into spy on me and mine forfeited your right to Nik, and made him mine.” Cameron looked over at Nik and Lev, gaging the both of them with calculated stillness. “Come here.”

Nik was frozen in place for a split second before Lev gently took his arm and nudged him over to Cameron’s side. If Lev hadn’t made him move, Nik would have been torn between standing still and being at Cameron’s side in a split second with the sheer Alpha in his tone.

Cameron fixed his eyes on Nik, and then Nik’s throat. “Of course,” he said. “I am speaking in demonic terms, and not angelic terms. So let me be very clear about this.” A chill rippled down Nik’s spine when Cameron's very sharp teeth sunk into Nik’s throat.

Lev ushered out of Cameron’s way, but Nik could sense his eyes were still trained on Az’ril as Nik instantly went limp at the claiming bite being branded into his flesh. Cameron caught him easily before he collapsed onto the ground from the amount of hormones being flooded into his body.

Nik whimpered when Cameron’s teeth came out of his skin. He caught the golden sheen of blood still on Cameron’s pale lips before pushing his face into Cameron’s chest. Cameron’s arm held him firmly in place as Nik reached for Lev’s hand.

Lev took it but didn’t take his eyes off Az’ril.

Cameron didn’t blink at the way Az’ril’s eyes narrowed. Angels held mating bonds to one of the highest standards in their lands and Cameron knew it. “You know where the door is, yes? If not I’m sure someone can show you out.”

Nik didn’t dare look up from Cameron’s chest, but he heard his father retreat from the room, and hopefully the house. “I’m sorry,” Nik mumbled against Cameron’s chest.

Cameron tugged on his hair. “Quiet,” he said, not harshly. The order did mellow the anxiety curling in his chest.

Lev lightly bit Nik’s shoulder. “You’re staying with us,” Lev mumbled against his skin. “You belong with us.”

---

Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Though, admittedly, most of their breakfast lately were quiet. Nik couldn’t drink coffee and so it took even longer for him to wake up. Cameron rarely had much to say in the morning, and Lev was always tired nowadays so quiet it was.

However, this morning, Lev had something on his mind. “Cameron?” he asked. “I had a question.”

“Hm?”

“Can we start working on a nursery? I imagine it’ll take some work, and...” He shrugged.

Before Cameron responded, he walked out of the kitchen. Lev stared after him, and looked to Nik. Nik was still staring at his decaf coffee, face blank and definitely not awake. Cameron reappeared, book in hand. Lev lifted the cover as Cameron went back to fixing breakfast.

Inside the book was... plans. Color swatches and crib options and even a sketched layout or two. Lev traced a picture of a crib made of dark brown wood and with little sea stars carved into the headboard. “You already started planning without me?” he asked, trying to not sound petulant.

Cameron flicked a look in his direction. “You were sleeping.”

A low blow, but a fair one. Sleeping had been preferable to being awake. “Point,” Lev finally muttered. “Well can I help with the rest?”

“If you want.”

“I do,” Lev said, flipping back through the book carefully. He would have called it a scrapbook if it hadn’t been so brutally efficient. Besides. If he had, Lev had the feeling Cameron would have been offended. “I’m guessing an ocean theme?” he said, peering at the options Cameron had deemed acceptable for baby mobiles.

Cameron placed a plate of bacon down in front of him. “It seemed to fit Nik’s tastes.”

“This isn’t my coffee,” Nik suddenly complained, rubbing his face.

Lev looked over. “Looks like coffee to me?” He wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Nik frowned. “This isn’t. My coffee.” This time he sounded more irritable.

“You’re not supposed to have caffeine, if that’s the problem,” Lev said, taking a bite of bacon.

“Says who?”

Lev offered him a piece of bacon. “Ash, probably. But also every pregnancy health book I’ve ever read. And I’ve read a lot.”

Nik slammed his mug down. “Well Ash isn’t here, and you’re not my boss.” He pulled out his phone, muttering in Spanish. Lev only got another piece of bacon before Nik startled him by shoving the phone in his face. “See? I can.” He was practically yelling, mostly from excitement from what Lev could tell.

Indeed, Ash had typed out a terse, “1.” Period included.

“Somehow that feels coerced,” Lev mumbled, before pointing out, “You have to convince Cameron too.”

Cameron sipped his tea calmly. “No,” he said. “Sit down.”

Nik plopped down, defeated. He stared at the counter sadly. “You’re all monsters.”

“Well, four more months and you can have caffeine again,” Lev encouraged.

“This leech is taking everything from me,” Nik mumbled.

Lev reached over, brushing his hair from his face. “Soon,” he promised, kissing Nik’s cheek.

Nik wrinkled his nose. “So what were you talking about before you decided to ruin my life?”

Lev closed the book carefully. “Nursery plans. Which- Cameron, do you think Nate would come paint the walls for us? I bet he’d do something pretty.”

Cameron put a plate of eggs and fruit down in front of Nik. “I already called him. He’ll be here tomorrow to start working on it.”

Lev huffed. “You’ve already thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“It’s easy. You’re both predictable.”

“What the fuck is this?” Nik demanded. “You give Lev bacon, and I get rabbit food? I’m a growing boy. I deserve bacon.”

Lev decided not to comment on the fact that he’d offered Nik a piece and Nik had decided to bemoan his coffee instead. “Eggs aren’t rabbit food,” he pointed out instead.

Nik took Lev’s plate. “Well fine then, you eat it. I’m eating your bacon.”

“Hey!” Lev reached for his plate. “Nik! Give it back.”

Nik just put his hand in Lev’s face, but Cameron switched the plates anyway. Nik whined, and all he got in response was a baring of Cameron’s teeth. Despite that Lev put a single piece of bacon on Nik’s plate.

Before any more bickering could start, a knock sounded. Lev peered over his shoulder in time to see a sentry leading a short woman into the room. She was hauling bags with her, though she set them down when she set eyes on Nik.

Nik had been in the middle of grumbling as he picked at his food, but when he saw her, he dropped his fork. “Mami?”

Lev watched them, mystified. He’d never met Nik’s mother, but when he looked to Cameron, Cameron just shook his head subtly like he knew what Lev was thinking. That left Lev even more confused, but he just looked back to see her cupping Nik’s face and fussing at him in rapid Spanish. In Nik’s defense, he looked pleased.

“Hello,” Lev offered when she seemed done. “I’m Lev?”

“I’m Mami Coco.” She looked to Cameron. “You can call me Socorro. I’ll be sleeping in a room next to Nikolas.”

Lev could see the annoyance flickering in Cameron’s face, but Nik looked happy, dark brown eyes shining as he got a hug from Mami Coco. Somehow Lev doubted Cameron would be irritated enough at the disruption in his plans and schedule enough to upset Nik over this. Instead, Cameron filled a plate for her too, and said, “Sit.”

There was a certain look to her that promised much headbutting in the future, but she sat beside Nik with a simple, “Okay.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #my writing #original writing #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: mami #hell to pay #cameron and nik and lev

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bearsinpotatosacks · 4 years ago

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Day 17 of TrekTober2020- Other Trek Crossover

I know this is a few days late but I honestly forgot and I really wanted to write something for this. I might continue with these crossovers, I need TOS Bones knocking (metaphorically) some sense into his AOS counterpart. (Also TOS Leonard McCoy is Bones, AOS Leonard McCoy is Leonard)

Trigger Warning for depression, self deprecating thoughts and depressive episodes

Also on AO3

His hands tensed around the PADD, another death, another life he couldn't save. Sickbay hurried around him, nurses running to and fro, doctors collecting in small groups, looking over PADDs.

He sighed, letting his head fall into his hands as he took a few moments to process the last few hours.

It had been a strange day, a major ion storm had prevented them from delivering well needed supplies to a new Starfleet colony. They had eight hours to get to the colony, if not, it could be another Tarsus IV.

Jim had been on edge ever since they received the emergency mission, he'd paced the ship dozens of times, eaten until he was sick and bitten his fingernails until they were blunt.

His anxieties were only heightened when the Transporter started malfunctioning and engine power decreased so much, they were stuck in the middle of deep space. He'd pushed every aspect of the ship in his control to its limit, sending countless engineering crew to sickbay and even pushing Scotty to, respectfully, also the Captain.

They had spent five hours fully stationary when the Transporter made the familiar sounds of someone beaming up.

After running to investigate, they found something they never thought they'd see. Themselves, from the late Ambassador Spock's universe.

From there, everything had gone into overdrive, with two of almost every main officer, it was chaotic. There were a few positives, new ideas, more staff with different knowledge and, before they knew it, they were racing across the cosmos towards the emergency.

There had been no calm when they arrived, however. Starving people in desperate need of care and raving leaders forgetting their duty was with the people.

Everyone was occupied. Most senior staff, especially both versions of Uhura, were busy contacting Starfleet and easing the palpable tension that filled the atmosphere like fog. Sickbay was instantly filled, surgeries one after the other, minor ailments filling up the corridors and overflow wards and every possible room available on the two floors being full.

Leonard was losing his cool. He hadn't eaten since their counters arrived, had barely drank anything that wasn't coffee or those sickly energy drinks. His feet were aching and his body swayed, head began to fuzz as the headache he'd been putting off with painkillers hit him.

His body gave up and started to crumple in on itself just as a pair of warm and familiar hands caught him as he fell.

"Woah there, son," His counterpart said, helping him get steady again as he put down the PADD and led him towards his office. "You need to rest for a while,"

Together, they managed to make their way towards the sofa that lay against the right hand wall, perpendicular to his desk. He sat down with a groan and rubbed his forehead as Bones poured him a glass of water and prepared him some pasta from the replicator.

They waited around in silence for a moment, listening to the far off conversations and happenings of sickbay. He was still processing the day's events, particularly the way he acted in that other universe.

Some of the uncanny differences were the fact that he was older on their five year mission, his Joanna was born earlier too. There was a soft happiness that radiated from him, even when they arrived at the crisis and were slowly overwhelmed. Maybe it was because he'd had more time to process the tragedies of his life, the divorce, his dad dying. It had opened up a lot of old wounds, seeing a version of himself so put together, having learnt from all his wrongdoings and not letting himself be defined by them.

"Eat." Bones slammed down a plate of food, breaking off his train of thought. "God knows when you last did that,"

He picked up the fork, it felt heavy in his hand, and started eating. The food was both delicious and meaningless mush in his mouth. His mind had gone from emergency mode to rational thinking as soon as he'd sat down. This happened every time a crisis ended, and every time he promised himself he wouldn't push himself this far.

"Do you do this during every red alert?" His counterpart asked. He settled next to him and sipped his own glass of water, lifting his hand to gently rub his back as he ate.

"Pretty much," Leonard said, there was no use lying to himself.

"Dear god, no wonder you're in such a bad place,"

He stopped eating for a second and turned to look at him, "How am I in a bad place? I'm doing a lot better than I used to,"

"How are you doing better?" His voice was calm and steady, while Leonard's was getting tighter and harsher.

"Well," He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not an active alcoholic anymore, and I try and eat three times a day, and I try and have downtime with my friends twice a week, and I don't do all nighters writing reports,"

He could feel Bones' gaze on his head as he lowered it to look at his feet, which he'd crossed on the sofa beneath him.

"I mean, maybe I can't get out of bed some days, and maybe this has made me late to my shift a few times, big deal," He wriggled in his seat and picked at the skin around his nails. "And I guess I don't shower at all some weeks, and I don't really have any hobbies, I don't really feel like I'm here sometimes,"

Bones opened his mouth to say something, but Leonard jumped in with, "But I don't cry every night, I sometimes exercise and try to tidy up and do all my reports and-"

"Feel nothing while you're doing it?"

Leonard panicked, his mouth ran dry, palms went clammy and he couldn't speak a word.

"Haven't actually, whole heartedly, freely laughed in god knows when?"

He nodded.

"Struggle to remember, don't find anything enjoyable, wonder why it isn't getting better when it was supposed to?"

Leonard felt the tears pour over onto his cheeks as he nodded continuously, his head falling onto Bones' shoulder as every little thing he'd been holding in for years fell out of him in one go.

Bones quietly hushed him, hand consistently circling the worn tunic he was wearing. He had meant to scrub out, but another landing party had come up with the usual scrapes, bruises and broken bones, and he'd been flurried away to help them.

"This isn't healthy," Bones continued. "I can't say that I'm the pinnacle of health, physical or mental, but, I know that bottling up even your basic emotions isn't good,"

Leonard didn't dare to raise his head, it felt too heavy with foreboding thoughts.

'You can't open up, it'll scare people,'

'You can't trust him, you've dealt with this for years, you don't need his help'

'You can't handle life now, if you open up and change, then you'll have more to do, you won't be able to handle it'

He felt two hands on his shoulders, shaking him lightly as he blinked and remembered where he was. His breath was coming out shorter as he heard distant instructions, telling him to breathe and only focus on that.

It was a few more minutes, or it could've been hours, before he fully came back to himself. He felt his stomach gurgle and he reached for the cold bowl of pasta, shakily shoveling mouthfuls in.

Bones looked at him and smiled sadly, sympathy and empathy twinkling in his blue eyes. He stood up, going to receive a blanket from a drawer before sitting down and smothering his body in it.

"Now, you're going to have a nap in here, trusting your staff to sort out the few people who remain in sickbay," He instructed, tucking the edges of the blanket under him as he reached for a PADD.

"But I nee-"

"No arguing, just napping,"

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his forehead relax and loosening his body. A subtle headache had just formed, from the aftermath of his tears and breakdown. The darkness came quickly after that, the last thing he remembered being him dropping into the lap of the counterpart.

I hope you enjoyed this

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chaoticspacefam · 4 years ago

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OC Music Meme

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch ! Thank you & sorry it took so long, didn’t have time to write this out before I left for holiday stuff so here we go! I shall tag: @actualanxiousswampwitch (go on give us another one XD), @a-muirehen , @kyber-heart , @thedinalixlegacy (no pressure as always, I know I’m kinda late now sksjkshskhs!) and anyone else who wants to do this, yes, I promise I mean you!

art is by @ ocellifera on deviantART! :D

Let’s do Aria this time, shall we! Since her playlist is the second-longest, and her and Vano’s ship playlist is the longest, we’ll have the most (probable options! Long post so goin’ under a cut. Additional TW’s for: drugs, alcohol, alcoholism, drug addiction and murder, in case I’ve forgotten to add it to the song-specific sections. If you click past this cut, know that this is what you may find there.

reminds you of them most: It was super hard to pick just three for hers, there were so many others I wanted to include here, but couldn’t, as I wanted to make sure I included songs that covered as much of her over-arching characterisation as I could. Honourable mentions to: Miss Jackson - Panic! At The Disco feat. LOLO, Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) - Fall Out Boy, Beekeeper - Keaton Henson, and Bones Of A Rabbit - Young Heretics, which can all be found (and more) on her Spotify Playlist - catch-all warning for: sex, drugs, violence and murdering of parents applies here, be aware her playlist is very dark, just as dark as Rai’s but with differing subject matter, proceed with caution if you find anything like that triggering!)

You’re Going Down - Sick Puppies :: This one is kinda self-explanatory. I heard it on a Spotify or Youtube shuffle at some point a year or so ago and immediately went “Oh, hey Aria!” so onto her playlist it went XD “Because I'm hyped up out of control If it's a fight, I'm ready to go I wouldn't put my money on the other guy If you know what I know that I know.” don’t mess with the Tiny Sith, guys, she will put you in the medbay. She’ll do it, she’s done it before ask Vano what happened to the last guy *nods*

Liar - The Arcadian Wild :: This is a relatively “new” song in comparison, which was sent to me by a good rp/writer friend on Discord (who afaik doesn’t have other socials!) that I often discuss plot points etc. with among other things, saying “hey this reminded me of Aria thought you’d like it!”. I listened to it and yep, sure enough, it’s an Aria song. A big part of Aria’s character is that at the start, she really is quite a bad person. She’s nasty, and cantankerous and she really doesn’t care about anybody except for herself (and maybe her dad. A tiny bit.), as things progress, however, while she is still inherently quite rude and selfish, she DOES learn to value other people...provided they are people she cares about, like Vano, and her friends, and so on, as well as (sometimes, she’s working on it still) taking the blame for her own actions and learning it’s not “weak” or bad to a) admit you care about people, b) make mistakes and c) admit those mistakes and take responsibility for them. "I sense there’s trouble ahead, it’s clear by the signs and warnings. That should tell where all blame is due, So why are they pointing at MY head? [...] I sense deception to come. Honestly, truth and I are never one. 'Cause I am the lying man and I have made you my next victim. I need you to see through my act, to tell me I'm wrong, to take off the mask, or else I'll be left in the lie. And I'll deceive my way straight to demise! Cause I’m not in the right state of mind, I just wish I had strength to admit it. My stubbornness will put up a fight! But I don’t deserve to win it... I’m left in the dark, pondering my mistakes But in the light I swear I will, deny it all...”

I didn’t mean to post like half the song but woops it’s done so have it anyway lmao

Brutus - The Buttress :: TW: intense violent imagery in the lyrics. This one is very relevant but contains spoilers for upcoming and as of yet unposted/incomplete chapters (as in...like 3 ish chapters time at most) of Creeping Shadows, so I’ll post this quote as “explanation” and let you theorize who it’s about

“My name is Brutus and my name means “heavy” So with a heavy heart I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my Enemy! My whole life you were a teacher and friend to me Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy I too have a destiny! This death will be art! The people will speak of this day from near and afar This event will be history, And I'll be great too! I don't want what you have, I wanna be you!!“

reminds another character of them:

Where’s My Love? - SYML :: (Vano) I think the acoustic version is especially emotional : ))) Vano looked for her for years but couldn’t find her and genuinely thought Aria was dead. You can understand why she was so fucking angry when she found out that was a lie...but at the same time, she just wanted her love to come home :( “Did she run away? Did she run away? I don't know If she ran away, If she ran away, Come back home Just come home“

Mothers - Daughter :: (Myla, her mother) “Love all you need to love before it goes... When your face becomes a stranger’s that I don’t know. You will never remember who I was to you [...] I’m called “mother”, but they’re called “home”.”

Myla raised Aria for the first few years of her life, and really wanted to keep her away from both the Jedi and the Sith but as it became more and more clear that Aria’s Force affinity was as strong as her father’s, the situation rapidly spiralled out of Myla’s control. She tried to hide Aria, but in the end her father Noctis did find them and take Aria to train with the Sith. She didn’t see her daughter again until she was a teenager, suddenly turning up with the task to kill her for treason against the Empire (Myla is not the canon Imp Agent, but follows the general trajectory of the LS!Agent storyline i.e. an agent disillusioned with the Empire who eventually defects to the Republic with the help of the SIS.). Though she’s a Senator on Onderon now, Myla carried a blaster for personal protection and ofc knows how to use it, except...she couldn’t shoot her own daughter and that was all she wrote. I imagine her thought process during her final moments went something like in this song, especially the bit that I highlighted up there.

reminds you of a relationship of theirs, doesn’t have to be romantic, can be paternal, friendly, etc:

Tongues & Teeth - The Crane Wives :: Aria & Vano (Romantic). Aria’s relationship with Vano is incredibly messy and complicated. On one hand, she knows Vano deserves better, but at the same time she doesn’t want her to go anywhere else and it seems like no matter what she does to try and “warn her off” about what a “bad person” she is, Vano keeps coming back anyway. Ergo, this song. "Oh, I will ruin you. I will ruin you. It’s a habit...I can’t help it. I know that you mean so well, but I am not a vessel for your good intent. I will only break your pretty things, I will only wring you dry of everything! But if you’re fine with that, if you’re fine with that [...] You can be mine.”

Colours - Halsey :: Aria & Merak & Ziri (Friendship/Platonic Love) “You’re only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope, I hope you make it to the day you’re 28 years old...”

Aria “coped” (i.e. not very well but she did it) with the guilt of killing her mother and the stress brought on by the night terrors by self-medicating with glitterstims (spice) and alcohol, and this is how Merak in particular remembers her. Though she got clean from spice after they picked up Ziri, she still continued to drink (and still does) quite heavily, though at least it’s easier to manage that habit. Both of them supported her through this the best they could and it’s probably a big reason (other than Merak being Vano’s little brother) that they’re still Aria’s friends to this day, even if she doesn’t actively travel with them anymore.

(honourable mention to Agnes - Glass Animals which also falls under this “category” but I didn’t want this to get too crowded lmao, it is once again a super long post woops) You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring :: Aria & Roan/Darth Noctis (Familial/Familial Love) Listen, he may have taught her very bad emotional habits and turned her into a tiny attack dog, but her father did love & protect her the best way he possibly could. He was very proud of her and always envisioned her taking his place as a Darth one day (and it takes her a longass while, but eventually she does! Congrats dad!). That’s all I’ve got to say about this one 🤷‍♀️ Monster - Willyecho :: Aria & Satele Shan/The Jedi Order (Enemies to Begrudging Respect (eventually) “I can see the truth. No, you don’t have to lie to me. Don’t fill your head with things and think you’re free~ [...] You don’t believe in monsters, do you~?” ”Of course not!” ”Well, I do...” See me change...into something...darker....” My personal favourite from this “round”. It’s not until Ilum that Satele and the Jedi finally realise they have not “converted” Aria as they thought they did, but rather...they’ve had a Sith hiding under their noses, a Sith related to a Dark Councillor well-known for murdering Jedi no less, and that perhaps...the “deaths” she had convinced them were accidental, were in fact, not an accident at all. 😈 Aria, of course, gets her ass thrown in jail for a few years for this lmao When the schtick with the Revanites happens and Theron needs someone who can “negotiate in a civil manner with Sith”, he and his mother agree Aria is the best bet - if it works, the Sith will respond more positively to her than any other Jedi, if they kill her instead then they’re “rid of” her and don’t lose one of their own - when Lana’s point-of-contact happens to be Vano and the pair reunite after another several years apart, Aria refuses to return to the Republic after Yavin IV. By then, she’s developed enough of a begrudging respect for Satele (and vice versa) that the Grand Master lets her go (not that she was willing to try and fight Vano, Ni’kasi, Marr & Lana to try and take Aria prisoner again anyways). They haven’t seen each other since and though Aria is neutral to the Jedi who have joined the Alliance, she doesn’t care for those who are still loyal to the Republic and would rather have nothing to do with them if she can help it.

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hanjislabig · 4 years ago

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Hanji's Past

"Isn’t it worth trying?"

————-

(Thats an extract from a story me and my friend write. An evening with Levi and Hanji, eating crackers, drinking red wine and talking about old wounds.)

Hanji looks at Levi with loving eyes. "Offer up your beating hearts... that’s a really serious promise... at least that’s what my mother always said." She takes another cracker and slips it into her mouth, while relaxing on the bed again.

Her last sentence makes Levi sit up. "You've actually never told me much about your parents, how comes?"

"There’s nothing special I could tell you,” she answers his question and shrugs casually. “But what do you mean, I already did tell you some things.”

"Right, you did", Levi says. He has noticed her unusual reaction to his question immediately. "But only a few things from your childhood. I mean - what else? Are they still alive, are you still in contact with them, do they know about me, whatever."

Hanji remains silent for a moment. She often talks about her parents casually, but rather with the intention to displace the latest happenings. The ones that she’d rather ban out of her mind completely. Now she gets confronted with everything again, she doesn’t hate to talk about what happened, but she’s definitely not keen to tell it everyone.

Hanji takes a deep sigh before she changes her position and sits up, pulling her legs against her body and wrapping her arms around them. "You really wanna know? I mean you don’t have to ask out of politeness.“

Levi changes his own position a little bit. "Sound like there's something that's not easy to talk about", he says. "So I only wanna know if you wanna tell me."

Hanji sighs again but nods then. She props her chin on her knees and starts thinking where to begin.

"So, my father was a scout in survey corps. He always used to be away for long periods of time, when they went on expeditions. Besides he always needed to leave for Trost to work. In his free time though when he was at home, he did a lot of stuff with chemistry and architecture. I loved to read in his books and rummage in his stuff,“

Hanji chuckles lightly at the memory.

"Altough i didn’t understand anything of these academic textes. You know I just wanted to seem as smart as did. So I assume his interests somehow woke the interest in me too.“

She sighs.

“My moms a botanist. Sometimes she also cared for the kids in our neighborhood. We also had this huge lively garden where I spent a lot of my childhood in. She planted her flowers everywhere, it was beautiful, especially in spring when everything bloomed. Sometimes I simply sat the whole day in the grass, watching the insects flying around and doing their tasks, listening to the birds... I loved the nature, I remember that.“

From one moment to another Hanji gets more serious again and it seems like she came back to reality.

"When I was 12 years old, my father died,” she continues with a voice that doesn’t reveal much, “he was one of the deceased of an expedition. My mother and I didn’t know much about titans back then, no one has ever seen one, they were only known through stories. When I was a child... we didnt have these wall problems yet,” Hanji stares down on her feet, lost in her thoughts.

“We got the message over a letter from the commander. That my father died in war against the so called titans.”

Hanjis eyes narrow, almost not noticeable while she speaks about the titans. Even if it’s only for a short moment, it seems like her attitude towards these monster changes.

"Before that happened I never considered joining the sure corps. I didn’t even think about it. It was nothing more than the job my father had. But after I got to know he got killed by titans...“ she falters, "... I think that could’ve been the trigger for my Titan obsession. But not exactly like I see them now, no... I wanted retribution, revenge, justice for what happened to my father. I got obsessed with titans because of all the hate I carried in myself. So I guess that was the moment when i realized I want to avenge my father and I decided from one day to another that I’ll do the same job as he did. I wanted to kill all of these titans everyone was talking about and afraid of."

Hanji swallows with a dry throat and takes a brief break.

"Like I said, I was twelve years old at this point. My father passed away only a few months before the recruitment for the next legion started. I was completely convinced that becoming a soldier would be my destination so I... I let myself get registered that day... but without telling my mom...“

Hanji lowers her eyes and gazes at her hands, a feeling of guilt coming over her.

“This lead us to heaving the worst fight ever. It was... something worse ive ever experienced in my entire life before at this point,” Hanji can’t help but pulling a slightly pained face as the memories flash her, “I told my mother that I was joining the corps. And she said no. And I said yes. My mother...I realize it now... she was so concerned and frightened. If I just imagine this... her only daughter wants to do the exact same job that got her husband killed only a few months ago."

Hanji presses her lips together.

“She didn’t want me to go... but I didn’t listen. I didn’t care, I thought she’d be too selfish to let me go... how could I-... I was too young to understand how the love of a mother works..."

Silence again.

"I packed my few necessary things and left my mother behind. I was so furious, you can’t imagine. Full of blind anger and a raging, ambitious heart. I can-... still see her face... this expression in her eyes when I-... when I left without turning around a single time...”

Hanji slowly shakes her head in disbelief and breathes out shivering.

“That was the last time I saw my mother. I’ve never seen her again since then.” She has to look away from Levi, her facial expression tormented and hurt as she remembers what happened back then.

Levi listens to her the whole time without saying a word, just focusing on her story. When she talks about her life back then he feels a little pain in his chest. It sounds more than beautiful. So beautiful he's having a hard time even imagining it.

He finds it hard to believe such a happy childhood is even possible. But then he learns how that happiness ended. It's just a story like all the others, nothing they haven't heard a hundred times before. And still it's not. Because it's her story. Her pain, her motivation, her reason to choose the path she chose, the cross she has to bear every day.

There's this picture inside his head, a twelve-year-old Hanji, fuelled by sorrow and hatred, trying to turn that pain into power. This part of the story seems much more familiar and Levi thinks to himself that at least she had something to focus her anger on. In his own story there was no bad guy, no-one who had ruined his life and still it was ruined. So he turned his hatred against the whole world, but the whole world is a bad enemy.

Levi continues listening and it doesn't get better. He feels sympathy for Hanji's mother, what her daughter did to her wasn't fair. But still he doesn't blame Hanji. She was young, passionate, furious, had a goal. If she was anything like she's now that made her unstoppable. But back then she didn't have the far-sightedness to realise how what she was doing affected the person who cared about her most. Sometimes she still doesn't.

Hanji's wish to join the survey corps is just as understandable as her mother's for her to stay. It was a tragic situation with no possible outcome that would have been good for everyone. Still Hanji should have handled it differently. She knows that and this knowledge tears her apart. This is why Levi forgives her immediately. He's as sure that her mother would forgive her as well as he's sure Hanji won't ever. Maybe that's why she suffers from guilt issues whenever something happens to the people and creatures around her.

For almost two decades she's lived with the knowledge that it was her who has caused a person close to her pain and she never wants that to happen again. But whenever something similar happens she thinks it's her fault automatically. The fact that she hasn't found the courage to see her mother again since surely makes it worse. Hanji probably thinks she's a coward, which doesn't exactly help her build self-esteem. Levi moves a bit closer to her and starts massaging her neck soothingly.

"Thanks for telling me this", he says after remaining silent for a while. "What happened between you and your mother is really bad", he begins carefully.

"But you know that you did her wrong and that's the first step in the right direction. You didn't mean to hurt her back then, you just did what we all have to do at some point, you chose how to live your life. She shouldn't have tried to stop you, that's probably what she's telling herself every day, but she was worried. And you shouldn't have left without talking to her about it, but you were a young girl who had just lost her father and got it all wrong. It's awful how it ended..."

Levi stops for a moment and his voice changes.

"...but it didn't end. You're alive, she's alive, thank whoever you want to thank for that. So many of our next of kin are dead, there's no way we can sort anything out or be united with them in this life again. You've got that chance so many of us dream about. Take it."

He gives Hanji an encouraging nudge.

"You've forgiven her and you love her, there's a high chance she's forgiven you as well and I'm a hundred percent sure she loves you. So what are you waiting for? You love each other, you miss each other. You've both made mistakes but we all do. If there's any way you can talk things out and become a family again, isn't it worth trying?"

#attack on titan #levihan headcanon #levihan #angst #hanji zoe #levi ackerman

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princessselene126 · 5 years ago

Text

So Much Blood

This took me a hot minute because I had to go back and look at some of the chapters in Winter to make sure I was getting this as accurate as I could. For the people that I know haven’t actually read or finished tlc yet this fic does contain Winter spoilers. Don’t read past this if you haven’t read Winter. Someone requested “Kai’s perspective when he found Cinder with the knife in her chest and how he was acting until she woke up.” 1873 words of lots of angst. Literally only angst. TRIGGERS: Blood, mentions of death, mentions of surgery, 2 swears?

masterlist

Kai raced back through Artemisia Palace when he heard a gunshot echoing through the halls. He should have gone through the tunnels with Luna’s nobility, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave without Cinder. She’d probably get mad at him, say he would be more of a liability than a help, but he didn’t care.

The sash across his chest bounced into his face with every stride. Annoyed, Kai ripped it off and tossed it behind him. He only vaguely remembered where the throne room was, but he knew it was close. He could only hope he was heading in the right direction.

Kai rounded a corner and saw Wolf carrying Cress in his arms. Thorne and Scarlet followed right behind him. The closer Kai got, the more he afraid he became. Cress was drenched in blood, her skin already turning pale from the loss. Throne cradled his hand to his chest, he too was bleeding. Scarlet and Wolf both appeared unharmed for the most part.

Kai’s stomach sank. They were supposed to be with Cinder.

He stopped in front of them, heart pounding so fast he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. “Where’s Cinder?” he asked. He tried sounding nice about it, but it came out more like a demand than a question. He couldn’t help it.

He was panicking.

There were very few times in his life that he felt true panic, true helplessness, and this was at the top of his list. He was on a different planet, in the middle of a revolution, and his wife was trying to kill his girlfriend.

“She’s in the throne room still. Wolf get Cress to a doctor,” Thorne said. He looked as scared as Kai felt, but there was determination there too. Thorne turned, starting back the same way they came. “I’m going back with Kai.”

Wolf nodded without hesitation then swiftly carried Cress through the hallways.

Scarlet grabbed Thorne’s wrist to stop him. “Don’t. You’ll distract her.” Her eyes shot to Kai. “Both of you. She needs to do this alone so Levana can’t use us against her. We don’t need what happened to Cress happening to either of you.”

He sensed an “especially Kai” in there because he was the emperor, but she didn’t voice it. He was grateful for that. Kai was tired of everyone acting like his life was more important than anyone else's--everyone else’s. When it came down to it, he was just… human. He wasn’t special because he was royal.

Thorne tensed for a moment, looking guilty.

That look was all Kai needed to understand what happened to Cress. Throne shot her, but it wasn’t him. It was Levana. Throne couldn’t possibly feel responsible for that...

“Scarlet, I have to,” Kai said. What if there was something he could do to sway the odds in Cinder’s favor? He couldn’t live with himself if she died and there was something he could’ve done to help.

“We won’t get in the way,” Throne said. Though he sounded confident, his expression and posture was uncertain.

It was promise.

Kai wasn’t so sure he could say the same.

Pursing her lips, Scarlet let go of Thorne’s wrist with a sigh. She looked back at Kai. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“As much as I want to, we don’t even have time for me to ask ‘what about me?’” Thorne looked at Kai. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Never am, but I always have to be. Let’s go.”

Thorne nodded. “This way, Your Royal Majesticness.”

Kai didn’t bother correcting him about how wrong that title was. Scarlet went toward the medical wing while, they sprinted in the opposite direction. Turning right when they came to a split, the throne room finally came into view. One of the large double doors was wide open, but they couldn’t see anything inside.

Thorne stopped as they drew nearer, signalling for Kai to do exactly as he did. Together they leaned against the cool wall and snuck closer and closer to the doors. There wasn’t any sound coming from the room.

Did they go somewhere else?

Were Cinder and Levana both dead?

Kai shook that thought away. He had to believe that Cinder was alive, that she would make it out of this alive. She’d beat worse odds before. She escaped his entire army in the Farafrah, and from her prison cell in New Beijing, and… and she had to escape this too.

Thorne moved to the closed door, keeping his back against it as he looked inside the room. “Shit,” he breathed. He rushed through the door, not giving Kai time to ask what happened.

Kai followed him, confused and frightened about why Throne was so eager to get inside the room. “Thorne, what are you--fuck.” He rushed ahead when he saw two people on the ground.

He barely even glanced at Levana as he went straight for Cinder. There was a dagger sticking out of her chest, right where her heart was.

Kai knelt down where her blood was pooling, tears streaming down his face, and pulled Cinder into his arms. Her mousey brown hair had fallen out of her ponytail and over her eyes. He brushed it back so he could see her face better.

Her eyes were open for only a few seconds before they closed.

She was dying. She lived through a fire and a terrible stepmother and nearly drowning in the lake, but she couldn’t live through this. There was no way.

There was so much blood.

He looked over his shoulder at Thorne and yelled for him to get help.

“Don’t pull the knife out,” he said before dashing away.

Kai turned his attention back to Cinder. He sobbed, burying his face in her hair. “You’re going to be okay,” he said more to himself than to her. “Just hang on, Cinder. Please don’t leave me now. N-not after all this. Not when we’re so close to everything we’ve fought so hard for. Please.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this. He was too young to understand what death meant when his mother passed. And he was too focused on keeping the peace with Luna and the rest of the world to grieve when his father passed. But now… Now Luna wasn’t a threat and he could breathe for the first time in months.

Only Kai couldn’t.

Cinder was dying in his arms and all he could think about was how much he wanted to talk to her, celebrate that they’d won with her.

Kai didn’t know how long he sat there with her in his arms, but it felt like ages. He talked to her the entire time, telling her it would be okay, that she was the strongest person he’d ever met and that she would make it out of this alive.

When the doctors showed up, he backed away and let them do what they needed to do. They rolled her to the medical wing on a gurney. Kai stayed with her as long as the doctors allowed him too. He didn’t want to leave her side, but knew he had to when she went in for surgery.

Though it was a drastic wound, the doctors were confident that Cinder would be fine. The knife penetrated one of the cybernetic heart chambers, not her heart itself.

Nevertheless Kai anxiously paced back and forth for the hours she was in surgery. Iko joined him not long after Cinder went in, carrying a tray of food for him to eat. She set it down on the little end table next to the couch. He politely declined it.

Iko didn’t have lungs, but she dramatically sighed as if she did. “She’d want you to eat, you know.”

Despite himself, Kai’s lips tugged up into a small smile. “I know, but I can’t right now. I will when she gets out of surgery.”

Iko raised an eyebrow at him.

“I promise. And if I don’t, then you can force feed me.”

“Alright.”

They waited and waited and waited together. Neither spoke until one of the doctors emerged, pulling her bloody gloves off as she walked toward him. “Your Imperial Majesty,” she greeted.

Kai eagerly walked over to her. “Is she okay? Is she awake?”

“Her Majesty will be fine. We repaired the tear in the cybernetic chamber without any trouble. As you requested Doctor Nandez will be here in a few hours to work on the damage to Her Majesty's limbs and any other damages there may be to her systems.”

“Thank the stars,” Kai breathed. “Can I see her?”

“We’re moving her to a recovery room now and you’re more than welcome to see her.”

“Show us the way, please.”

The doctor took Kai and Iko through a maze of hallways and finally opened a door for them. “She’s being monitored 24/7 so if there are any unexpected problems we’ll be in right away.”

Kai nodded. “Thank you.” He hesitated to enter the room, maybe he should let Iko go first. She was such a big part of Cinder’s life.

Sensing his reluctance, Iko squeezed Kai’s hand. “You go ahead, I’m going to check on Cress.”

“Okay.” That was all the push he needed to enter the room. Cinder was hooked up to a few IVs and he could see the heavy bandaging across her chest beneath the hospital gown she wore. Her skin looked slightly ashy, but better than when he found her in the throne room.

It finally clicked in his mind that she was safe.

She’s alive.

They were all alive.

Cress was in suspension, but her recovery looked hopeful. Thorne lost a couple fingers, but was otherwise fine. Scarlet got a minor concussion. Wolf… well they were trying to figure out if they could undo the changes they made to him, but that was unlikely. He seemed fine with it though. Jacin had some injuries, but seemed to be doing fine. Winter was the only person that they were still concerned about.

They didn’t know how to get her mind back in the right place.

Kai spent the entire night in Cinder’s room. Any political work that needed to get done was brought to him by Torin. Iko made sure he ate after she got back from checking on Cress. At one point he accidentally fell asleep, but was woken when a nurse came in to check Cinder’s vitals.

A few hours after that Dr. Nandez arrived and started working on Cinder’s cybernetics. Kai asked questions about what she was doing and how long she thought it would be until Cinder woke up.

Once she replaced something in Cinder’s head, Dr. Nandez started working on her hand.

Seconds later, Cinder’s eyes sprang open and her hand jerked away. The doctor fell to the ground, some metal tool in her hand clattering next to her.

Kai rushed to Cinder’s side, helping her to sit up so she didn’t accidentally pull her stitches. “It’s alright,” he assured her. Her hands immediately went to her chest as if feeling for the knife that was there last time she was awake. She looked panicked and flustered and ready to fight her way out of she had to.

Recognition slowly melted into her features and she relaxed against his arms.

Kai had never been so relieved in his entire life.

#kaider #emperor kai #cinder #linh cinder #cinder and kai #kai and cinder #lunar chronicles #the lunar chronicles #tlc fic #tlc fanfic #mine #my fic #marissa meyer

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pllandcompany · 5 years ago

Text

(now if we’re) talking body

Summary: Roman should have caught this. But he didn’t and now Logan’s falling.

Warnings: food mention, anxiety mention, brief description of a panic attack, eating disorder/disordered behavior (big one for this fic), self-destructive behavior, injury mention, brief blood mention, fainting, hospital mention, needle/IV mention, crying

Tagged: @shxtxpp @apologieslogan @crofters-jam @asylia5911 @ab-artist @band-be-boss-blog @unbefuckinglieveable@flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @thefallendog @backatthebein

Notes: Hey, remember that ice skating AU I came up with months ago? And I said I would definitely write in it? And then proceeded to crawl into a hole of my own shame never to be heard from again? Yeah, me neither, no idea where this came from. On a serious note: please heed the warnings on this one, y'all. The entire subject centers around someone struggling with an eating disorder. If that is triggering or upsetting to you, please don’t read it. Parts of it were honestly hard for me to write. If you do read it, I hope you find some sort of catharsis with it. Know that if you battle these issues or issues like it that you are not alone. There is always help so talk to someone. Reach out. Tell ANYONE who will listen. All right, loves, stay safe.

If Roman is honest with himself, he has to admit that it took him just a bit too long to notice what was happening with Logan, for his taste at least. Logan is his competition, sure, but he’s also his friend in an ‘I hate you, please love me’ sort of way. He should have noticed sooner. Well, that’s not totally fair. He did notice some things. But for some reason, he just didn’t say anything. Maybe he was afraid. Maybe he wanted to be absolutely certain, maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it; he doesn’t know. What he does know is by the time he finally finds the bravery to connect the figurative dots, it’s almost too late.

It starts when Logan comes back from the off-season looking, well, different. He’s leaner, especially in his waist and legs, and while his body is certainly more…defined, it’s also definitely smaller than Roman remembers. It’s not a bad look by any means, it’s just very different, enough to make Roman pause and take stock of the svelte man in front of him.

“You’ve been training hard this off-season, Specs.” Roman means it to be an offhand comment but something in the way Logan’s shoulders stiffen makes him wonder if he should have said anything at all. Logan looks up slowly and blinks at the redhead, an impassive expression on his face.

“I always train in the off-season. It’s important to maintain strength and endurance so the transition into training at full capacity is less of a strain on the body.” He sounds like a textbook, the Skater’s Guide to Success or something and Roman stifles a chuckle, not wanting to offend his friend any further than he apparently has.

“I know that, Wikipedia. I mean that you must have been doing something different. But you look good! Just different than last year. You’re…smaller and more…muscle-y.” He rubs the back of his neck in an uncharacteristic display of insecurity, nervous that the tension radiating off the dark-haired skater is partly his fault.

“That is not a word but…thank you, I presume.” Logan looks so uncomfortable that Roman has to get up and leave, heading out to the rink before he even fully has his skates on.

“You’re welcome. I’ll, uh, see you out there.”

After that awkward encounter, Roman vows to not say anything else about Logan’s appearance.

****

The next thing Roman notices is Logan’s eating habits have changed.

It’s not like the boy had a huge appetite to begin with, typically electing to eat smaller, more frequent meals throughout the day. But lately, Logan has been skipping his snacks in favor of more practice time. Roman figures he just started making up for it at the normal scheduled mealtimes but when Logan comes in one day with just a small salad with no protein or dairy in it and then another day with a cup of grapes and some sliced apples, he realizes that he’s cut back there too. Regardless, he’s still eating and he still drinking water (he thinks) so it can’t be that bad, right? Shaking the worries from his head, Roman just barely brings himself back to reality in time to notice Logan’s stiffened up again, only this time the cause of it seems to be whatever Patton is saying to him.

“Logan, are you sure you’re not hungry? I have another piece of string cheese and a tangerine if you want it.”

Logan is sitting on the bench they’re sharing with his body slightly hunched over, arms folded across his stomach. To anyone else, he just looks a little cold but Roman can just barely make out the slight wince at the corners of his eyes. He’s definitely in pain and he’s definitely trying to hide it.

“I’m fine, Patton. I don’t need anything right now.” And Roman is certain that is a lie but he knows his teammate well enough not to directly call him on it. Patton, on the other hand, keeps pushing.

“Well, how about some water? Or a sports drink? You look like you might be cramping. You have been out there for a while without a break.”

“No, for God’s sake, I am fine, Patton! Will you please stop it with your incessant worrying?!” Logan snaps and immediately regrets it, doubling over as the effort of his anger causes another stitch to go shooting up his side, one he can’t cover up. Yet another thing that seems to be different; the usual picture of composure that Logan wears on the surface has slowly begun to dissipate, revealing a pulsing layer of frustrated magma underneath and more and more people have found themselves getting burned if they get too close. Patton, however, maintains a gentle look on his face even with the unexpected outburst but Roman can see the hurt and worry lurking in the bubbly skater’s brown eyes. He glances over at Roman briefly before standing up and preparing to walk away, leaning over for a moment. Roman cranes his neck to see Patton place a water bottle and the aforementioned fruit and cheese on the bench next to Logan. He seems to have recovered from his loss of temper and the subsequent cramp but now he is decidedly refusing to meet the older man’s eyes. Patton lays a gentle hand on Logan’s shoulder anyway and Roman braces for it to get knocked off but the moment never comes.

“Okay, honey. I’m sorry; I didn’t realize I was prying. But you need to take care of yourself, Logan. Food’s there if you want it.” Patton simply walks away after that, eyeing Roman sadly as he passes by. A moment passes before he steals another glance down the length of the bench at the now despondent Logan. He’s turning the small orange over in his hand, eyebrows furrowed in heavy deliberation over something that should be so simple. Roman knows better than that; he knows how complicated food can get for some people, especially athletes that compete at such a high level as they do. Admittedly, he never expected his overly logical teammate to ever struggle with something like this. Reason should surely step in and make this easy for the stoic skater, right?

When Logan eventually puts the fruit down and settles on taking a small sip from the water instead, it becomes clear that for him, this is very complicated.

****

Roman’s closing up the rink one night as a favor to his father when he gathers the courage to confront Logan about his recent change in behavior.

Trash is clear, showers are cleaned, doors are locked- you finished in record time, Roman Prince. He’s about to turn off the lights when he realizes that someone’s still on the ice. Roman is stunned, it’s well after eleven and it’s already been a full day of training. Who could possibly want to be practicing at this hour-

Logan. Of course.

Roman stands and watches for a minute as Logan glides across the ice, prepping for what looks to be his signature triple axel into a triple toe loop, a complicated sequence, sure, but nothing Logan hasn’t accomplished before. He figures he'll let Logan finish this element before he lets him it's time to go home-

Something's off.

Logan is far too tense. His shoulders are way too high. His legs seem wobbly and unsteady. And worst of all, he's not wearing any gloves, which would be concerning for anybody but is damn near insane for the typically pedantic skater who is more than happy to lecture everyone else about skate safety. It dawns on Roman just how long it's been since that man has walked into this arena.

And the man in front of him now? Couldn't be farther away from his normal picture of Logan if he tried.

Roman is just about to say something when Logan suddenly leaps into the air, attempting the jump. Right away, Roman can see plain as day that his approach is off and it throws his body out of alignment, causing Logan to over-rotate and come crashing down to the ice with a sickening smack.

Oh, God.

Thankfully, two things happen: one, Logan is smart enough to tuck and roll and land on his backside instead of his arm, thus avoiding a more serious injury, and two, he's not too far from the wall and slides into the flexible plastic, not too far from where Roman stands, momentarily frozen in shock. It takes a beat too long for his body to catch up to his brain screaming at him to move, run, go to him and finally-

"Logan! Logan, are you all right?" Roman leans over to see Logan seated on the ice, propped up against the wall and panting heavily. There are going to be bruises all over him, no doubt, it was a hard fall but nothing appears to be broken. Roman reaches out a hand to him, his concern for every aspect of his teammate's health growing by the second.

"Here, Lo, come on. Take my hand, let's get you off the ice. You can stand, right?"

Logan hesitates ever so slightly before he nods and Roman doesn't miss it. He suppresses the urge to wince at the weak, ice cold grip Logan has and instead focuses his energy on pulling the taller man to his feet.

"Turn towards me, grab both my hands. That's it, Lo. And I'll walk around and you sidestep; we'll meet at the entrance and then we'll sit and take a breather." It takes a moment for them to finally reach other. Logan is shaking badly and Roman keeps having to grab him to keep him upright. Finally, they reach the opening and the trembling skater practically collapses into his rescuer's chest, still breathing erratically as Roman holds him steady to check him over. He grabs both of his freezing hands and holds them in his warm ones, calmly whispering at Logan to take a deep breath, something he finally does himself. Eventually, they both calm down and a few moments pass before someone speaks.

"I'm sorry," Logan whispers. It's small and ashamed and it breaks Roman's heart just that much more.

"Please don't apologize. Just tell me what is going on." Logan's head snaps up and he almost looks like he's about to deny everything all over again and then he takes inventory of the situation and slumps over, defeated.

"I...I don't know what's happening to me."

"I think you do," Roman says, afraid yet brave for just a moment. Logan's eyes widen, fear turning over and over again in his stomach. "I think you know exactly what this is."

Logan nods, glossy tears threatening to spill out onto his cheeks. Roman is right; there is no fooling anyone anymore. He nods again and clears his throat twice, suddenly unable to unstick the walls to get anything out.

"Logan," Roman presses on, "you must know how this ends. You know this can't continue." Logan nods a third time, looking up at the concerned redhead through wet eyelashes as his voice makes a quiet comeback.

"I know...but I can't stop."

****

Roman regrets every choice he's ever made with Logan when it comes to their next competition.

He's waiting on the sidelines for his turn at bat, so to speak, when he sees Logan blow past them, ignoring them all and taking his place on deck.

"Well, what the hell was that about?" Virgil grumbles. "He didn't even wish us luck or anything!" Patton places a hand on his shoulder and offers up a weak smile.

"He's been...off lately, Virge. I think he just needs some space right now." Something in Roman's gut twists at that, the sheets wrongness of leaving Logan to his own devices eating at him. He glances over at Patton who gives him the same half-hearted smile and then glances down at a very stressed out Virgil with his face buried in his hands. Roman gets it and the ache in his chest subsides. Virgil's anxiety is playing against him and he doesn't need yet another thing to worry about. None of them do, really but that unfortunately doesn't stop anything from happening to anyone.

The three look up as they hear Logan's name called out over the loudspeaker and the cheers as he glides onto the ice, giving a the crowd a tight grin and a small wave. He's never been overly expressive with his entrance but yet again, Roman can see the extra stress around his eyes, the dark circles even more prominent against the pallor of his face, the way his legs tremble as he takes his starting pose.

The guilty churning comes back tenfold. Roman should have said something. He shouldn't be out there.

The music starts and like a light switch, Logan comes alive for a brief moment. It enough to make his teammates almost relax until he attempts his first jump sequence and it goes sideways, Logan wobbling as he lands.

"Did...did he just wobble on a triple flip?" Virgil asked, incredulous.

"He just wobbled...on a double flip...that was supposed to be a triple," Roman says, quiet and halting.

"Something's wrong." Patton echoes the thought radiating off the others. "Something's really wrong."

Logan barely makes it through the rest of his routine, tipping and wobbling on almost all of his jumps, modifying other elements down, an obvious display of a lack of confidence. His turns are sluggish and his moves lack more and more luster and enthusiasm as time goes on. No one would dare say this out loud but it's possibly the worst Logan has ever skated in a long while. Finally, it ends and Logan looks wrecked. Not only does he appear to be exhausted, his expression is utterly defeated as the crowd cheers out of sheer sympathy, still loving him despite the struggles he's had tonight. It doesn't seem to register to the tall brunette as he skates around to each side of the rink to acknowledge the audience, his chest heaving with the effort of fighting back tears and screams of frustration. His teammates look on, trying and mostly failing not to let their pity and shock show. The most steady and consistent person on their team just crumbled and none of them could speak. They could only watch as the person they knew faded in front of them, the sense that something had irrevocably changed haunting them all. Logan shakily starts to make his way off the ice, pinching the bridge of his nose when the unthinkable happens and his blades slide out from underneath him, pulling his body down to the ice, limp and unconscious and not moving.

Chaos erupts as medics and coaches flood the ice and the crowd shrieks in horror. Roman almost leaps onto the ice himself but he's pulled back by someone he briefly struggles against. He finally registers Patton's blonde curls and suddenly he can hear again.

"Roman, stop it, do you hear me? You can't help him right now, the medics, they've got him, okay? He'll be okay, just let them do their job! Roman, look at me, look at me! He will be okay!" Patton's voice is shaking with uncertain sobs but still Roman nods, knowing that it's truly too late, the time for action on his part has long since passed.

"Come on now, come with me, come help Virgil, he needs us right now." Roman looks over to see the small skater curled up on the bench in the throes of a panic attack. Roman grabs his hand and places it to his chest absently, taking one last glance back at the rink. The sound of Patton's counting Virgil’s breaths fades into the background as he zeroes in on Logan's unmoving frame between someone's legs. There's a small pool of blood on the ice around his head.

The sight of it makes Roman want to vomit.

****

It’s hours later when Logan wakes up to a slow, steady beeping machine. Hospital, it registers, and he wants to groan out loud but there’s barely enough energy left in his body to open his eyes. His head hurts, his body hurts, and his throat feels like sandpaper. He tries to shift and something pulls at his arm, what is that? Oh. The IV, pumping me full of sugar and fluids that are just going to-

Keep you alive.

Is this really where he is? Is he really so far gone that he fears something as innocuous as an IV drip? Is he really at such a low point that he needs to be on a IV drip?

What the hell has he done to himself?

A small gasp startles him and he turns his head too fast to the left, a wave of dizziness crashes into him briefly. Roman seems to notice and pulls over a small cup of water with a straw. Logan hates himself for it but he pauses for just a second. Roman stays patient, his face unreadable as he waits for Logan take a sip, pushing the cup away gently when he’s done.

“Thank God you’re awake,” Roman mutters.

“I take it that I didn’t place,” Logan responds dryly. Roman raises an eyebrow.

“Really? That’s what you’re concerned about?” No response. “No, you didn’t,” he sighs out, “gold went to another team. I took silver and Patton was just shy of bronze.Virgil..Virgil struggled too.”

“I probably terrified him.”

“You terrified all of us.” Roman’s tone was soft but abrupt. “You weren’t moving, I thought you were- I thought...” He cleared his closing throat, swallowing the lump that had formed there. “Anyway...if you’re worried, we’re handling the press. My father is releasing a statement that your...collapse was due to a recent bout of severe flu that turned into pneumonia. You’ll be taking some time off to recover in the hospital and then at home privately until you’re strong enough to compete again.”

“Your father would do that for me? That’s...that’s wonderful. That’s just- it’s- that’s just perfect!” Logan breaks down sobbing before Roman can even blink and to his surprise, it chokes him up too.

“Logan?”

“They don’t see me, Roman. Your father would lie for someone he hardly knows. But my parents..I’m never good enough for them. I’m not good enough for anyone. And I try to make myself perfect but they still...they don’t see me.”

“So your answer is to disappear?” Silence again. “Logan...this has to stop here. You need help or you’re gonna...please tell me you’ll end this.”

Logan swallows thickly. “You know I can’t promise you that.”

Roman drops his head, the urge to cry only growing stronger. “I should have done something. I should have said something sooner.”

“Roman, this isn’t your fault.”

“No, I knew! I watched this happen! I watched you deteriorate and I said nothing! And now you’re...” A hand reaches across his face, wiping the tears that had collected on his cheeks.

“Alive, Roman. I’m still alive.” Roman nods, the guilt slowly easing its way out of his chest. He grabs Logan’s hand and squeezes, both of them clinging to the fragile strands of hope that connected them.

As long as he was alive, he still had hope, right?

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides au #my writing #tw:/eating disorder #tw:/anxiety #tw:/fainting #panic attack #fainting #logan angst #ice skating au #tw;/blood mention #tw:/needle mention

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lcnelyones · 5 years ago

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here’s oli!

「 alex saxon. cis male. he/him. 」 — is that OLIVER ‘OLI’ ARTIS i just saw in thornhollow? word around is that they’re a THIRTY-TWO year old HUMAN, but i doubt that’s true. they’re pretty CHILL from what i know, but i’ve heard a rumor that they can be LONELY too; must be why they’re a DINER OWNER & COOK. they kinda remind me of WORN JEANS WITH A NOTEPAD TUCKED IN THE BACK POCKET, ON OLD GUITAR GATHERING DUST ON THE WALL, A WARM SMILE & A KIND HEART. ( ooc ali. she/her. 27. est. )

— basics;;

NAME : oliver artis ALIAS ( NICKNAMES ) : oli AGE : 32 SEXUAL ORIENTATION : pansexual GENDER IDENTITY : cis male ( he/him pronouns ) SPOKEN LANGUAGES : english OCCUPATION : cherry’s pies ( a local diner ) owner and cook FAMILY : eleanor artis nee hanson ( mother, estranged ), ian artis ( father, estranged ), cherry rose hanson ( grandmother, deceased ) PETS : a golden retriever named bowie who frequently hangs out at the diner POSITIVE TRAITS : chill, confident, hardworking NEGATIVE TRAITS : sarcastic, lonely, guileless

— a look deeper;; ( trigger warnings: parental abandonment, alcoholism, parental figure death )

full disclosure: i’ve played oli before so this is structured by what the old bio is so i’m gonna give a few quick points followed by the full thing!

oli was born and raised in thornhollow. his parents both lived and worked in town until oli was around twelve when his father left their family, and his mother was never the same. she was a workaholic under the best of circumstances, but after his father left, she couldn’t handle being his mother as much anymore so he was essentially raised by his grandmother ( also a thornhollow native ) after that.

left for college, but came back when he found out his grandmother needed extra help, especially at the diner that was her pride and joy. his mother had since moved out of town for “bigger and better things.”

tried not to be bitter about his parents leaving him, but it was hard. his grandmother showed him unconditional love though and he was forever grateful to her. she passed away a couple months ago, and he’s not entirely over it yet.

he did take the diner over after her passing, but the bills are beginning to pile up, and he’s not sure if the diner is going to survive.

personality-wise, he’s pretty chill and easy going. oli’s kinda a go-with-the-flow person who doesn’t have time for drama or manipulations. he’s more focused on making the diner successful and frequently is found working on something even when he’s not technically scheduled to be there.

does not know specifically about the different species around town, but does know that there are weird things that happen in thornhollow. pretty open-minded about it all. operates under a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ sort of policy.

A boy of six sat cross legged on the ground in front of his father watching with a bright and eager smile. His father had his own eyes closed, humming softly along with the melody he strummed on his favorite guitar. Oli wanted to bounce in rhythm with the music, to cheer, or even sing along. But he knew that was not allowed, not while his father was practicing. And because he wanted more than anything to be considered a grown-up, old enough to sit in and listen, he kept himself quiet and still until his father had finished and it was time to clap. It was this time that was precious to him, the time he had his father all to himself. His father might not acknowledge his presence other to bask in the boy’s love, but this time was still infinitely valuable to the child. He knew when his mother arrived home from work and sent his nanny home for the day, she would whisk his father away on some adventure he was too young for. He didn’t mind, really. Oli knew that people just felt better after being around his father so he couldn’t blame her for wanting him all to herself for a time. But it did make this time more important than ever. And he had always been his father’s biggest fan.

It didn’t matter to Oli that his father rarely had time for him outside of this. That he only wanted someone to play an adoring audience. Even when his father screamed at him for making too much noise during his song. Even when his father threw the glass of bourbon against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. None of that mattered to the boy. He understood then at such a young age that his father just wanted everything to be perfect. “I’m going to be famous one day, Oli,” he would say, his words slurred. And of course, Oliver believed them. After all, what father would lie to their son?

ii.

Oliver knew something was different from the moment he arrived home from school. There was something not entirely right. Some spark that normally resided in the house seemed to have gone out. He almost didn’t notice his father’s prized autographed picture of David Bowie was missing from its spot on the wall. He almost missed the pitying look his nanny ( that he was far too old to have now that he was almost out of middle school) gave him as he walked towards the stairs. He almost missed the low sobbing that seemed to be coming from above him where he knew his parents room to be. But he didn’t.

He sprinted up the stairs, though it seemed to take ages to reach the top. Instead of racing towards the crying he knew belonged to his mother, he went towards his father’s studio instead. He hesitated before pulling the knob, already knowing what he would find. Or not find. He let out a soft gasp at what he saw anyways. Empty.

“This was your fault,” a voice behind him said, thick with rage and heartbreak. He turned to see his mother, clutching one of his father’s shirts, tears streaming down her face. She already looked as if she regretted the words, but they could not be taken back now. They were already in the world, waiting for everyone to hear and know.

Oli was sent to his grandmother’s the following week.

iii.

Oliver looked too much like his father. Acted too much like him as well. A carbon copy if ever there was one. That was one of the reasons his mother didn’t like to see him. He knew that even if she insisted it wasn’t true. More and more of late, he had skipped out on holidays with his mother, finding the silence too loud and the house too empty. It had lost its spark the day his father left them. Instead, he spend the time with his grandmother baking far too many sweets for the two of them and delivering the extras to their neighbors. It had stung far more than he ever wanted to admit. He loved his grandmother, appreciated everything she’d done for him. But holidays had been difficult since his father had left, and his mother had essentially stopped seeing him on a regular basis. But now, Christmas Eve, he felt more in the holiday spirit than he had in a few years. He’d already done the obligatory phone call to his mother to wish her a happy Christmas, so he had the rest of the day to himself to binge watch Netflix and eat more sweets than any one person should be able to while his grandmother visited some of her friends who didn’t have any family left. At least, he had that free time until she came home, and it was time for their dinner. It was this night he found out why his father had left them.

He had never really liked social media. Far too much of it was just people pretending to be the ideal versions of themselves. He much preferred reality. Nevertheless, he was a member of a few sites as most teenagers his age were, though he did rarely use them. It was on one of these sites that he saw the message from his father. Already it was a week old and Oliver was torn between anger at himself for not checking sooner and wanting the satisfaction of deleting it without reading. But his curiosity won out as it normally did.

It was short, barely a few lines. It told of his success in music. It seemed he had finally found a band and it looked like they might get a record deal with a big name company. He invited Oli to a show sometime. It was full of excuses instead of explanations. His father had a dream that he just had to see realized. A dream that didn’t involve being a husband or father even though he had been both. But his father never once apologized. And Oli never responded even though the child inside wanted nothing more to have his father back in his life once more.

iv.

He was just out of college when he got the call from his grandmother. He was almost expecting to hear her tell him something had happened to his father or mother, that the alcohol had finally killed him, or the combination of a broken heart and being a workaholic had done her in, but instead she was just talking about things around the house and the diner. She didn’t mention anything was wrong, but Oli could hear it in her voice. It took a while to break her down, but she finally admitted that she hadn’t had a good visit with the doctor. She was getting older and couldn’t move around as easily as she could when she was younger. That and her bad habit of smoking had finally caught up with her. She wanted her family to be around instead of strangers in her home. Although she didn’t ask him to move home, Oli knew that was what his grandmother needed. It took him a few days to consider choice.

Oli had a job offer in the city, a good one that would set him up for life. He’d break free of the pattern of either being a deadbeat like his dad or a cold, workaholic like his mother. He had worked hard to graduate with honors from the university, getting his master’s in accounting and finance. He had looked at a few apartments and had found one he was sure would be perfect. He had a life planned out ahead of him that he was sure would be successful, one that would put his parents to shame.

Instead of following that path, he moved home and began helping out at the diner he’d spent his teenage years working at.

Oliver was thirty-two when his grandmother died, leaving him everything she had ( the house, the diner, no savings, and bills that were piling up ). He’d been living with her for nearly a decade, working at the diner and taking care of his ailing grandmother as she got progressively worse. She hadn’t been entirely truthful when she’d called him; she hadn’t mentioned that her mind and body were both failing faster than she could really keep up with. But Oli did his duty as best as he could, was hailed as some sort of hero by those around him. Instead of living his life, he was at a sort of standstill. One that didn’t end even after her death. He knew he could have tried to get a job in his field, but he couldn’t really muster any sort of enthusiasm for the life he’d once planned. He felt like it was a dream long since gone. Instead, he was content operating the diner that his grandmother had loved so damn much. He liked his quiet and simple life, working and coming home to his dog, Bowie. Maybe it wasn’t the fame-filled one his dad had been searching for or it wasn’t typically successful like his mother, but it was something that was his.

— connections;;

would love some employees at the diner

maybe some friends who he can chill with

exs? currents? idk

#thornhollowhqintro #✶ history. | forever younger growing older. | oli artis.

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years ago

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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you may have sent me requests according to this marvelous card!

We've always been fucked up because nature is, in fact, a dirty little bitch who enjoys itself with abnormalities. She gets amused by giving birth to men in women's bodies or does the opposite, sometimes.

This story absolutely isn't for the faint of heart. It openly and severely deals with gender dysphoria. It may be phrased with my usual dose of purple prose bullshit sparkles, but that's kind of it. It's still raw. Needless to say it's based on personal experience. Also, hahaha, guess who got stuck with his stupid ideas. I don't even remember why I picked "Forced Out of the Closet" back in August. I think I was planning on making this an original work thing, but it ended up never panning because I switched fully into fandom mood shortly thereafter. I'm pretty sure I was saying that about my first card back in April for "Panic Attack", no? Well, it ended up becoming this thing. I don’t know what to make of it yet.

It's a really weird note to end my 2nd BTHB card on. Until now, compared to the first card, I've been much more focused on physical pain. This has none of it and only 2nd POV narration and angst. I originally started it in a 3rd person POV, but it didn't work out and I thought it'd be worse if I wrote it in a 2nd person POV. It is. It's vivid and it's painful. I love it. Again, thanks to my Writing Crew for the support despite me being an edgy-ass bitch. I guess yiu can also call us the Derek Suffering Crew?

The title of this was what I wanted to give to the sixth chapter of Earth Never Stops, but it ended up not really ringing right with that chapter in particular. I feel like it fits here much better. And of course we gotta go with a rewritten Angie because, y'know. Canon Angie is canon Angie...

-------------

Like Honey in a Cup of Acid

Summary: You may have explanations to give to your assistant now that she's discovered something wasn't exactly normal, Derek. (You may also like not to do so because you want to forget).

Fandom: Trauma Center Relationship: Pre-rel DerAng

Wordcount: 2K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo (Thank you so much for having me for a second time!)

AO3 version available here.

------------

A sort of weight immediately hits you when Angie asks you if you can have a little talk now that your thoughts aren’t just a painkiller-induced mishmash of words and incoherent thoughts with neither head nor tail. She looks concerned and perplexed, puzzled even, her eyes never truly looking into yours. Almost as if, for once, the fierce and daring Angie is intimidated by something about you. Sounds farfetched, right?

Well, there could be a number of reasons. You did almost just die on her a couple days ago and surely you can’t look much better than your own patients at the moment. You know, the usual: pale face, dark rings under the eyes that look like trenches, reddened eyes… She could just be very concerned for you like Kimishima has told you before when checking if you were still amongst the living.

When you finally have the “little talk”, it’s in your hospital room, with you still bedridden and her on a chair to your left, next to the IV drip still inserted into your wrist, her hands pinching her skirt or clutching a notepad against her chest when she holds it. You’re not sure if there’s something even written on the thing, wondering if it isn’t just her way to cope with stress and whatever is making her anxious. Her fingers are shaking and the hair on her exposed forearms is risen. How come she’s so terrified? Do you really look this awful?

“What did you want to tell me about, Angie?” You ask, in a gentle tone, making sure you aren’t forcing on your throat so you don’t worry her even more. The tense silence in the room and the lack of noise in the later hours of the evening helps your low voice to be heard.

“I… Huh… Well, it’s just that… I was curious!”

“Curious? About what?”

Angie looks away, red creeping on her cheeks, breath hitching in her throat. She gulps, shakes her head, takes a deep breath in, another out, and finally, looking at the ground, starts speaking again.

“When Dr Kimishima started the operation I…” She hides her face in her hands, her notepad and pen clicking against the ground. “I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it since your operation!” Well, this sure is going to be a dirty secret, as Tyler would have said. “But, when she started the operation, I noticed something on your chest, and…”

Your heart skips a beat. You forgot about that, haven’t you? You forgot she’d notice such a thing, didn’t you? Alas, it’s a bit too late to pretend like she didn’t see what she must have seen. Kyriaki nor Paraskevi are known to leave stains on one’s skin, they aren’t Tetarti.

“What did you see?” You ask, feigning ignorance.

“Ah… I don’t know how to describe them well… But they were two weirdly shaped scars around your pectoral muscles. They kind of looked like –”

“—crescents, right?”

“Yeah!”

Angie picks her notepad back into her hands, avoiding eye contact, much to his satisfaction. You really, really don’t want to have this conversation, this awful, rotten conversation you’ve had a couple times already. If it’s never ended too badly, even with your own mother, you still don’t want to live through it again. Alas, did you really think you’d escape it forever, especially with someone you hold so close to your heart (and in more ways than one too)? You’d have had to tell her one day anyway, so better get on with it, right?

Wrong. Your hands are trembling and your throat is tied into a knot. You don’t want to utter these forsaken words. You want that part of you to remain a secret from the entire world. But, alas, you also don’t want to lie to your trusted nurse, to your best friend during surgery procedures. In any case, she’d eventually guessed you lied to her, so popping the bubble off now or later is kind of the same. But, even with that knowledge in mind… It doesn’t make what’s about to happen any less dreadful.

Derek?

What if she isn’t as accepting as she seems? What if she stares at you right in the eyes like a freak, like a circus monster, like a broken doll that was badly stringed back together, like something that shouldn’t be, like, like…

Huh… Derek?

And, hey, what if she thinks you’re not fit for you job because of this? You’re technically experiencing a state of distressed triggered by the littlest things. It’s about faraway childhood memories, whenever you see a father with his biological child, when someone mentions a monthly event you’d have rather never known… Hey, what if that happened during an operation?

Dereeeeek? Are you still here?

You can’t ignore the existential dread coursing through your veins. You know, the one that happens when you remember that your father never called you by your right name, what was written on your birth certificate, what they called you in high school, how you look on all the pictures your mom won’t set fire to like you wish you could do… Yeah, that dread. That toxic, lava-like dread.

Hey, Derek, what’s wrong?!

Her urgent tone makes you snap back to reality. She’s staring at you with big, full of concern eyes, her hands on your shoulder, gently shaking it.

“Ah, sorry, I… must have zoned out. Sorry for worrying you, Angie…?”

“Are you alright? You’ve got tears in your eyes…”

You realize you have to look dumb and weird, so you take your glasses off and rub the water away.

“What were you saying, then?”

“Ah, huh… I was talking about the scars you had on your chest… I’ve never seen such specific shapes before. So…” Her hands tangle together. “I was curious, that’s it. Feel free not to reply, if it throws you in such a state of distress…”

“No, it’s… It’s fine. It’s just… difficult to explain.”

Your voice breaks when you try to push the words out of your tangled throat. You aren’t ready for this. You’ve not found your way out of there yet. You’ve been pushed into a corner and the only way out is to find the right words at the right time while not knowing how she’ll react. Maybe she’ll really think you’re the error of nature you are, you whose brain and body weren’t able to match, you whose chromosomes and spirit never agreed before your birth, you who has had to fight your way out of the mess your own biology threw you into before you were even born.

Her fingers are cold against your feverish skin, against the goose-bumps that your medical gown doesn’t hide well. You’ve made it this far only for your world to perhaps crumble again and the existential dread appears again. What if she never accepts you again? What if she calls you “Mr Stiles” again, starts staring at you with an amused glare? What if this supportive glance she gives you and the kind words she’s offered since you got over your differences disappeared as soon as she knew? Why is it that you always have to throw a shot in the dark when the truth of your story comes back to bite you?

You need to trust in Angie, don’t you? She’s been kind of your guardian angel until now, would she give up on you for this? Do you believe so little in her for that to happen? Aren’t you too harsh on her, aren’t you getting too caught up in your own web?

“I… got them from a surgery I had in med school. As far as I know, only Tyler and a couple other people are aware I have them.”

“From what kind of surgery?”

Here it comes. The nausea’s already here, twisting your stomach, squeezing your heart as it increases in pulse, choking your throat shut. If you weren’t in this bed, surely your head would spin.

“…Top surgery.”

Angie seems fairly confused, until her eyes snap open, glimmering in realization.

“You mean, like a mammectomy?”

“…Yes.”

Your voice almost fails you again. You feel tears you want to dry again burning your retinae, blurring your vision and the candid face of the nurse who’s just realized what you really were. You fucking liar.

“For…”

“Part of gender dysphoria treatment,” you reply trying to pretend to be an encyclopaedia, to be the internet pages you read in your teenage years when puberty got confusing and warped into a lucid nightmare.

“Oh my God…”

Angie’s face distorts in what you can only qualify as distress, horror or disgust. She tries looking at you, fixating on your bandaged chest, her gaze struggling to even meet with your face. You wish you could pat her head, tell her it’s fine, that she didn’t know, that you’re sorry for being that and not telling her before, that she’s right to feel betrayed if that’s the case; but your hands are numb and dirty, covered in acid and black mud, and you can’t dirty her like that because you, yourself, are a special kind of a biological and anatomical failure. She’s a collection doll, you’re a broken toy.

“I’m sorry, Derek, I’m… I… I shouldn’t be like that!” She stumbles on her own words. “You’ve just told me such an important thing and I… I…”

“It’s fine…” You try to sound reassuring, but the truth is that you’re still shaking, terrified and apprehensive.

“I should’ve known! It’s such a sensitive topic, I… God, Angie, you need to pull yourself together and stop being so noisy!”

He clutches her hand at last.

“It’s fine, really. I’m… at least glad I could tell you by myself…”

That’s not entirely wrong. You just wish you didn’t feel backed into such an uncomfortable corner. It’s not her fault, of course, she was just concerned for an abnormal thing about you… A lot of you is abnormal, after all.

“I’m still me, though.” He wants to assert that with that shaky voice of his. “It’s just something I don’t like… talking about, per say.

Angie takes a deep breath and focuses back into a state of stability.

“Of course you’re still you, Derek. You’re still the surgeon who saved the world from GUILT. I would never stop thinking that. You’ve always been Derek to me, why would that change now?”

The warm smile he gives her make the hair on his skin calm down, little by little. It’ll be okay, eventually.

“I’m just… so sorry I forced you to confess like that.”

“I’d have had to tell you anyway, one day, I suppose…”

“You didn’t have to. At least, not this early…”

“It’s fine anyway. I forgive you.”

“Thanks…”

For the first time since she’s entered the room, you can exhale with a relieved heart and a normal pulse, profit from the rainbow that shows up after the rain. The dread is still there, hiding like a snake in your stomach, ready to bite into your throat at any moment of vulnerability you show in front of it; but, now, you have a new ally to help through the storms.

“Just promise me you’ll never tell anyone, okay?”

“I never planned on having that secret exit this room. Not even the walls of Caduceus will know about it!”

You chuckle.

“I like your spirit.”

You want to thank her again, but it feels like overkill, and you want to have the snake finally resting, asleep in the pit of your abdomen. For now, a serene silence is enough. It’s more than enough after all this trouble, all the turmoil and all of the acid rain that drenched the both of you…

There’s no need to worry anymore when you have nothing left to hide and no one but a guardian next to you; so relax, now. It’ll all be fine, from now on, now that the lead prison around your chest is gone…

#trauma center #derang #bad things happen bingo #derek stiles #angie thompson #forced out of the closet #emotional hurt comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #otp: nice work dr stiles

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brightbeautifulthings · 5 years ago

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The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (trans. Robin Buss)

"'I have heard it said that the dead have never done, in six thousand years, as much evil as the living do in a single day.'"

Year Read: 2019

Rating: 3/5

Context: Last year’s year-long Les Mis read went so well, I decided to choose another intimidating classic to tackle in the same fashion this year. I know myself, and if I don't deliberately pace out a book like this, I'll try to read a thousand pages in a week, and it will just be a miserable experience. (That's not to say some classics aren't miserable experiences regardless of how you read them, but that's another issue entirely.) The Count of Monte Cristo was calling to me from the shelf, and by pure luck, I already owned the edition I wanted to read (plus a B&N abridged version that promptly went into the donation box). Reviews overwhelmingly praise Robin Buss’s translation for ease/modernity, and the Penguin Classics haven’t let me down yet.

For my less coherent updates in real-time: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX. My review is spoiler-free, but my updates are not, so read with caution if you’re not familiar. Trigger warnings: In a book with a thousand pages? Everything, probably, but for sure death, parent/child death, suicide/suicidal thoughts, severe illness, guns, abduction, poisoning, slavery, mental illness, sexism, ableism, grief, depression.

About: When forces conspire to have sailor Edmond Dantès arrested for a crime he didn't commit, he spends years in a hellish prison, fighting to stay sane. Through bravery and good fortune, he manages to escape, and he assumes a new identity for himself: The Count of Monte Cristo. Under this guise, he inserts himself into the lives of the French nobility, vowing revenge on those who wronged him.

Thoughts: Like most thousand page novels, there's no reason this novel needs to be a thousand pages, but the one thing I can say about them, collectively, is that I come away feeling like I have a relationship with them that I usually don't get from a shorter book unless I've read it multiple times. And it makes sense: I've been reading this book for a year. I've had relationships with actual humans that were much shorter than that. Dumas's prose (helped along by Buss's translation) is accessible and not overly dry, if not quite as humorous as Victor Hugo’s. Thanks to both of them, I now have a rudimentary understanding of the French Revolution and the difference between a Royalist and Bonapartist (because truly the only way to make me read about history is to put it in a novel).

Dumas proves himself more capable of staying on topic though, with one or two exceptions. The only margin note I cared to write was, apparently, "Horrible digression", and I stand by that. As soon as the novel leaves Dantès’s perspective, it gets less interesting, beginning with Franz encountering Sinbad the Sailor on Monte Cristo and continuing with the Very Weird and Terrible Side Anecdotes about bandits in Rome. Otherwise, much of the storyline is more or less linear, without the intricacies of Waterloo or the Paris sewer system. It grows more chaotic as the book goes on though, with frequent digressions into every character's backstory.

The plot takes such a drastic turn that it's almost like reading two different novels with two different main characters. At the beginning, it’s most like an adventure story. There are sailors, prison breaks, and buried treasure. Yet, for all those things, it’s surprisingly un-suspenseful. Dumas has a very stolid way of story-telling. The pace is almost supernaturally consistent, so that even things that probably should have tension in them are presented as a matter of course. (Or maybe I’m just hugely desensitized by media.) I wasn’t as excited as I thought I should be during some of the more compelling parts, but there’s something reassuring about Dumas’s relentlessly straightforward story-telling.

The middle takes a major dip in interest. Cue a lot of long and tedious backstories, plus Monte Cristo's elaborate set-ups to take down his enemies. It basically devolves into a soap opera of the various dramas of Paris’s rich and powerful families. Monte Cristo barely needs to lift a finger to destroy these people, since with a few mostly harmless suggestions, it looks like they're all going to self-destruct at any moment without outside help. The ending never really recovers from the action of the beginning, thanks in large part to the characters. There are more than it's worth keeping track of, including a lot of side characters, family members, and name changes. A detailed, spoiler-free flow chart of how everyone is connected to everyone else would have been helpful. (But be careful about Googling those because spoilers.)

Edmond Dantès is an easy hero to pull for, since he’s honest, good, and capable, and he has a kind of earnest faith that things will work out that’s endearing. He goes through a fair amount of character development in prison, and his father/son relationship with Faria is especially moving. On the other hand, it's difficult to like his alternate persona, The Count of Monte Cristo. Dumas goes a bit overboard in making him filthy rich and knowledgeable about literally every subject, and no matter how generous he is to his slaves, they're still slaves. Whether he’s playing the part of a pompous ass or is actually a pompous ass is sort of irrelevant by the end. There are a couple of flailing attempts at character development in the last sections where he wonders whether he had the right to do everything he did, but it's too little/too late to make much of an impact.

The story wouldn't work without some Shakespeare-level villains. Danglars is Iago whispering in Othello’s ear, and Villefort is even more insidious because his upstanding citizen act is so convincing. Caderousse is just a coward, and it’s interesting to see how jealousy, ambition, and fear all play an integral part in condemning an innocent man. Mercédès is a bland love interest; Valentine and Morrel are basically the Cosette and Marius of the novel, but at least there are some decent people on the page to pull for. Much as I dislike all the descriptors of Eugenie as “masculine” (because she must be less of a woman if she has a mind of her own), she's a powerhouse, and I was living for her lesbian relationship with her piano instructor.

It's clear Dumas has no idea when to end a story, since every time I thought we'd wrapped up a plot with a certain character, they'd resurface a few chapters later to spin it out a little further. Though everything (and I do mean everything) moves much more slowly than necessary, I was satisfied with the way it all played out. It's hard to come back from a main character I can barely stand though, and I happen to not like novels where nearly every character is terrible. While I found Les Mis surprisingly relevant on its social commentary, I’m struggling to see why Monte Cristo has stuck around. Only the first parts could reliably be called an "adventure novel," and the rest is purely middle of the road.

#book review #the count of monte cristo #alexandre dumas #monte cristo readalong #classics #3/5 #rating: 3/5

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blckandrmeda · 5 years ago

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❛ there are constellations igniting in your eyes but there’s a black hole engulfing your heart and oh god, it won’t let you feel. ❜

isn’t that ANDROMEDA BLACK? yeah that is them, sitting there at the SLYTHERIN table with those other SIXTH years. when sybill looks into that crystal ball of hers, she sees champagne spilled on a mahogany table, a black snake winding its way up a tree, the sound of footsteps running in an empty alley, an elegant princess chained violently to a stone, gazing out at the endless starry night only to be reminded of how small you truly are, tear drops staining every letter from home. anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty INDEPENDENT, CRITICAL, and OLD-FASHIONED. apparently they’re NEUTRAL and PUREBLOOD but i’m sure that’s not related.

links: stats, pinterest character parallels: triggers: trauma, domestic abuse, neglect, scars, wounds, blood

i. born in the hopes of gaining a son, andromeda was set to be a disappointment from the moment she entered the world. cygnus was cold from the very beginning, but in druella’s eyes, this dark haired little girl held potential — the potential to be something more useful then even the heir herself. andromeda was beautiful, she was delicate in every way that bellatrix was not, and so she was groomed to be the picture perfect little girl, the young one that the family would show off as the perfect example of a wife, the little girl who grew up to stroke an older man’s arm and convince him to devote his life to a deadly cause with words covered in sickly sweet honey. she was a pawn in a much bigger game than any young girl could possibly comprehend, and so she never tried to — she went along with the charade with the flimsy nature of a puppet.

ii. competition was enforced on them from the moment all three little black girls could walk, but bellatrix, andromeda and narcissa were never the type to listen too closely. with the severity of their fathers belt and the razor-sharp words of their mother, they found it easier to stick together rather than pit themselves against each other. andromeda especially felt a tight bond to her little sister, narcissa: the one shining beacon of light in her dark world. narcissa was the first little girl that andromeda vowed to protect through thick and thin, through the good times and the bad ( then again, she never was one to stick to her word ).

iii. andromeda had always felt afraid in her childhood home, but it wasn’t until her opinions started to stray from that of her father’s that she began to feel alienated too. it was a strange feeling, a slow and aching pain of realising that you no longer felt welcome in your own home, and andromeda suffered many a sleepless night throughout her days at hogwarts. her heart was bigger than anything cygnus and druella had intended, and slowly the picture perfect facade was beginning to crack — not without punishment. andromeda was only twelve when she first felt the pain of her father’s belt hitting her shoulder, and she still has a scar from where she bled onto the buckle. she didn’t sleep, but she didn’t say anything, either. she’d never known anything but the ‘ love ’ from her family, and no child could possibly understand what it might mean to be without them.

iv. when she rebelled, it was in the smallest of ways. she’d skip a party, she’d have one too many glasses of wine at a family dinner, she would stay at the castle over easter break. nothing big. and yet everything was substantial. no longer was the delicate, sweet little girl that cygnus and druella had so carefully constructed. andromeda was alone in the world, scars lining her back from any step she took across the line. she didn’t care, and yet in a way, she did. she loved her family in a sick and twisted way, and though some of her friends who stood far beyond the line told her she should leave, she couldn’t. she wasn’t a lion, after all — she was a snake. she was a coward, in some ways. ambitious, yes, loyal, of course. but for all the wrong reasons. for all the wrong people. she wanted to be different, but she couldn’t, and she told herself she wouldn’t. ( we’ve all lied to ourselves at least once. )

v. the stakes have never been so high. suddenly, her rebelling is not just a way to push at her parents’ buttons — it is a statement. there is a black cloud looming, there is a line being drawn in blood. what side will she choose? on one side, there stands her family. stronger than ever, smiles sick and twisted and yet soft for their little girl. andromeda is just a child, in their eyes, and a child can still be coerced. can still be changed. there is still potential, no matter how hard she tries to prove otherwise. this side is strong, this side has her heart in their corrupted, bloodied hands. her family is wrong, evil and yet still she loves them, still she cannot leave. but the other side. with friends she has made in secret, with innocent children and shaking muggleborns being kept safe, protected. this is the side where she feels most at home, if home were to ever exist. this is the side that she knows is right, that deserves to win even if their fight is small. but who can she say this to? how could she possibly abandon the people who raised her, who have loved her despite all she has put them through? she stands right on the line, she sits precariously on top of the fence. but it can only be so long before this fence is broken, before she falls one way or the other. not picking a side is picking a side, she is told. in due time. she will choose…

#| ❛ made of gunpowder and exit wounds. ❜ ( character study. )#petrificus.intro #intro

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personaehq · 5 years ago

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INCOMING MESSAGE …

FULL NAME: kwon ares ALIAS: mars, ari, appa DATE OF BIRTH: 2117/07/18 ALIGNMENT: neutral OCCUPATION: sous-chef at seorabeol restaurant AFFILIATION: leader of the fraternity of jade ACCOMMODATION: serene living, nagatacho FACECLAIM: im jaebum

ACCESSING: BACKGROUND …

then .

EVERYONE HAS AN ORIGIN STORY , everyone has a becoming — or an unbecoming . for ares , it’s a little bit of both but much more of the latter . it was clear just how his life was supposed to go as he was the sole heir of castor kwon — or to be more scurrilously known as the leader of the fraternity of jade . yet , ares would know nothing about the organization , not until he comes of proper age to be exposed to such a life .

it showed with how frequently he questioned where his father was , only getting a smile from his mother , hera . she always told him he would soon find out when he was older , and ready . whatever that meant . but he never pushed it , not when he gets distracted with his father’s latest gifts . he was spoiled , and he liked being spoiled . the young kwon got everything he wanted , just as long as he did well in his academics , listened to his private tutors , and stayed a good boy .

he didn’t have that much friends growing up — all he had was his immediate family , a handful of androids , and men his father called friends ( prompting him to call them uncles , prompting them to dote on him ) . they were enough for him , enough to go around the house and keep him company when he got lonely . he ceased questioning why he had to be within the vicinity at all times , not even daring to go past the gates because as father once said , ‘ it’s to keep him safe . the house was safe . he was going to be safe . ’

i .

he always looked up to his father . but.. he never pegged him to be a liar . because he wasn’t safe , not really . and he soon finds out on the day of castor’s supposed arrival — everyone was busy preparing his homecoming ; androids were setting things up , the men outside had already cracked open a few bottles of beer , and mother was in the kitchen . she was cooking up a feast . and watching her bustle around the kitchen has been ares’ favorite past time . sadly , that would be the last time .

because as the night crept in , just a few hours before castor’s arrival , everything shattered . it started with the windows , the sudden smoke , then the gunshots .

ii .

hera was quick to drag ares up towards the master bedroom before locking the door and barring it . ares was frozen , he didn’t know what was happening as he watched mother cry , as he watched her call his father and — ‘ they found us . ’ he was confused , and scared because mother looked scared and , ’ mommy ? who found us ? what’s happening ? ’ she did nothing but gape for a moment before ending the call quickly — ending it with the sweetest words before pulling ares into the closet .

‘ ares , darling , i want you to be a good boy and stay in here . do not make a sound . i want you to cover your ears and count quietly to a hundred when i close the door , okay ? ’ ares nods . ‘ daddy will be here any moment . daddy will be here when you finish counting . okay ? mommy loves you , darling , mommy loves you . mommy’s here , mommy’s here . ’ and darkness surrounds him as the door closes , just as the bedroom door gets broken down .

iii .

mommy lied . she wasn’t there when he came out . but well , he lied too . he heard everything and only counted up to eight , until everything was quiet .

iv .

he was mute for a year after that happened . and he’s learned that people lie so easily , for their benefit . father did that a lot after mother died . he kept him close and suddenly , his eyes opened to a new reality . and castor hates to admit it , hates to accept it , but he watched his son grew into someone else entirely .

v .

he was violent , especially when he lost his temper . he took up job after job — got more reckless with it , sloppy even . but he always got the job done .

ares often thinks about the fact that castor had probably never imagined his son to turn out like this — but what did he expect from someone who lost his innocence at a young age ? still , his father did his best to tame him and mold him just enough to fill in his shoes when the time comes . he was patient with ares , always has been and always will be . he’s never yelled at him , never physically harmed him . he always laid a hand on his shoulder to reel him back in when he’s gone too far .

but sometimes , not everything chooses to remain the same .

vi .

the first and last time his father punches him , is when he finds out he got someone pregnant . he was barely nineteen when he got his best friend and fellow gang member , minji , pregnant . it was also the first time ares has ever felt a lick of betrayal .

he didn’t want it , didn’t want whatever child was growing in minji’s belly . he refused to even acknowledge it as his . but minji was apparently desperate — so she went around his back and told the kwon patriarch . the news apparently didn’t sit well with him , ares’ fault and refusal didn’t sit well with him — and it would be something ares would never forget .

vii .

it took a year for him to finally acknowledge that he had a child , that he was a father . but the moment he first held haeju in his arms , he saw nothing but his future and purpose .

now .

it’s been six years since then , and a year since he was promoted as the fraternity’s new leader . his father may have stepped down , but he remains as an adviser . ares still struggles with the power he holds and he knows some members might not be happy about someone so young leading them . but ares pays them no mind , just as long as everyone stays loyal towards the fraternity — all will be well . but with the rising tension in the world around them , who knows ?

but one thing is for certain , ares will do anything for the fraternity — his fraternity . anything to keep them safe and whole .

ACCESSING: PERSONALITY …

POSITIVE TRAITS: fraternal , multifaceted , sentimental NEGATIVE TRAITS: jealous , possessive , violent

it’s a bit difficult to pin down someone like ares . but everyone in the fraternity would say that ares had two moods — to fuck someone up or to fuck someone . spoiled and coddled growing up , he’s grown selfish and possessive — something he does’t flaunt unless really triggered . he’s choleric enough that the smallest thing can set him off like a bomb — turning him violent sometimes .

but on good days , he can be charming . often up for a good conversation , engaging and says just the right things to get the ball rolling . loyalty is something he respects , often sees past one’s minor misdeeds if you’ve managed to gain his trust and show him you could be better . but if you break that trust to the point it’s unfixable , you’re dead to him .

... END OF MESSAGE.

#human #t #a

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