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lyallblacklupin · 4 years ago

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Now that all is over.

TW: Implied Sexual Assault/Nightmares.

Voldemort is killed with all aspects which is how the Second Wizarding War has ended. Fortunately, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin have survived. They have a godson to look forward to make up for the lost times, the world is serene and ill-free, and especially, they have each other. Life cannot have been any sweeter. However, one miserable night, Sirius jerks out of the worst nightmare he has ever seen in his life. He is screaming and looking anywhere for help but Remus Lupin, who has been sleeping beside him. Will Remus be able to calm him down without having to touch him, or even come close to him?

There are a lot of things Remus Lupin should be thinking right now, which included his indecisiveness for accepting the job Dumbledore has offered him again, now that the story of Voldemort had ended once and for all. Also, the fact that he needs to move out from Grimmauld Place for the sake of his-boyfriend? Fiancé? Lover? He doesn’t understands what they are, but he knows that they are certainly not teenagers anymore. They had endured wars, losses and especially, ducked down from their own deaths, together. They finally have another chance to live, and this time it is without the fear. The fear that had been looming like their shadows since they can remember. This was THE chance.

However, as Remus exchanges the bill with the cash the red-headed girl is giving him for the Oscar Wilde’s poetry—which becomes a good distraction because the girl looks timid and strongly reminds him of Lily Evans picking up poetry from the Hogwarts for him, then she would smile at him with a teasing glint in her emerald eyes when it was Wilde’s queer poetry—he is stuck with his brain flickering the image of what happened today morning at half past five when Sirius jolted out of his sleep, running away from nothing but Remus.

“Sirius, honey—“

“NOOOOO!” Sirius’ eyes were screwed shut and he was pulling his hair like a madman, squirming in the most corner of their bedroom, with his knees glued to his chest as he quivered violently. Remus didn’t know what to do because this was something that he had never experienced in their togetherness. Sirius did have the tendency of having frequent nightmares even in Hogwarts, but never once he had pulled Remus away when he had reached and took his trembling body to tuck it against his own. He didn’t even need to ask his permission which was evidently clear that Sirius could recognize his presence without even looking him. However, this time Sirius’ wide eyes were staring him and yet he was shrieking when Remus inched forward to touch him. All of this was giving Remus only one answer: The nightmare was about Remus.

“Okay, Sirius, I’m not touching you, I’m not coming to you, see…” He steps back and sits on his bed across the very scared looking Sirius sitting on the floor. He pretended that didn’t have assume the reason behind Sirius’ behavior, looking very calm, “Did you have a nightmare, love? You can tell me, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise you, Sirius—“

His words died in his throat and suddenly something very heavy settled on his chest because Sirius is shaking his head.

“Don’t lie.” Sirius whispered and Remus thought that all of his surrounding was turning upside down. He hadn’t felt so helpless before. It had never been like this. Sirius had always been too tactile with him, no matter what. He couldn’t do anything, he was running out of ideas and strategies to deal with the situation. His mind was ringing and he started feeling nauseous as if some vial is refluxing from his stomach. His fisted the bedsheet and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to call out Sirius but he could hardly hear his own voice when a certain ringing sound is somewhere around him. He could tell nothing except the regrets and the what-ifs that were screaming in his head: What is happening to us? Are we falling again when the chance is finally here? Why now? What if Sirius had dreamt that the wolf has killed him? What if Sirius has now realized that he was bound with a monster? What if Sirius has believed that nightmare? He shouldn’t have been with me! He deserves more! Someone who is hundred times better than me! What will I do without him? And again? Weren’t those twelve years enough for us? Why isn’t the universe a little merciful on us?

And then what came out from his mouth was a sob. His body was shaking as it racked through him. He manages to breathe as he lifted up his head and there was Sirius looking at him with his tear-stained face, inching forward towards Remus’ legs by the bed. Remus wanted to throw caution to the wind and embrace him with all his strength and love, but he had to be very gentle to not make him flinch. He carefully raised his hand, not breaking his eye contact with him. Sirius nods hesitantly. It broke Remus’ heart to see the doubtful face of his lover. His fingers touched the skin of his arm, and fortunately there was no hint of discomfort in his face.

“What’s happened, Sirius? What did you see?”

Remus deliberately jerks himself out of the flashback because what Sirius explained him after that, was not failing him to shudder every time he plays that memory in his head. He realizes that he has to go to the therapist he has been seeing since a month. He likes Dr. Holly Meyer, and she knows about his relationship with Sirius. He thinks that she was the right person to talk.

His shift at the bookstore ends at quarter past two as he hurries for his appointment.

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“Does Sirius have any past trauma related to rape or any sexual assault he has experience from his loved one?”

“Umm, no, he never mentioned.” Remus replies to Holly’s question. But he highly doubts that Sirius was never sexually molested by his family because one of the days at Hogwarts, when they were dating, he saw an angry looking bruise on Sirius’ hip which jolted him to his cores. However, Sirius never talked about it and neither Remus had the audacity to ask him who did that to him.

“Remus, have you ever done something which has terrified him? Any physical gesture or…I hope you know what I am talking about. Something that might have prompted that memory out of him, which also might have influenced him through this nightmare?”

Remus felt sudden surge of heat beneath his cheeks, and he doesn’t know how to answer. They haven’t physically interacted with each other in a while. The last time he can remember is when Sirius gained health after being in comma for five weeks when Bellatrix had hit him with a very complex curse at the Department of Mysteries. They were reunited in Grimmauld Place after the healers discharged him, both of them brimming up with emotions as they tried to express their undying love for each other. After that blissful moment, they got too busy with the approaching war, that they could only spare time for quick snogging and whispering ‘I love you’s incase if they never see each other.

“No, we haven’t…I mean didn’t-we didn’t…” He was not looking at the doctor because Remus could feel her smiling at him. “But why me? Why was it me in the dream doing those horrible things to him?

“Remus, dreams can be quite deceptive, and not to mention our mind has the power to take shapes of our fears the most terrifyingly in our dreams.”

Remus is speechless, and he is feeling something ugly erupting in his chest. He is quite precise about it. It is guilt. For not taking care of Sirius’ mental health.

“Remus?” Holly calls out very softly. Remus looks up sheepishly, despite the burning sensation creeping his neck and cheeks. “The case is quite clear here. Sirius has something in his hearts of hearts that he isn’t telling you. Something that hasn’t just left him ashamed or traumatized but also he is quite uncertain if this is something he should talk about. I assume that he is not giving it the importance to discuss this with you. And at the same time, you are not giving him the attention he wants from you. You two have been through misfortunes that has left you both listless and empty. You need to fill each other with love and happiness. Any love gestures will do. Let the other know that you are here for them in every possible way.”

Remus feels like his legs are giving out, even though he is sitting on a very comfortable armchair.

“Go, get your man. He needs you. He just doesn’t have the heart to bear loneliness. He is suppressing himself for you because he think this is what you want.”

No, this is not what I want! He makes a mental note to himself. And how could I not want Sirius? Remus knows that he is lying to himself about the war being the only reason for their lack of physical contact. He knows that there has been lack of communication which has followed the current problem, landing them here.

“I shouldn’t have left him alone in that house.” Remus mumbles.

“No, Remus, you did the right thing.” Holly retorts gently, “This is what he needed. To think straight with himself and be sane. You being there would have been too suffocating for him. Clearly, you needed someone to put sense in you. Your welcome.”

She is smiling amusingly, and Remus can’t help but agree. He is leaving when Dr. Holly calls him out and he turns to her.

“Say, Remus, what flowers does your better half loves the most?”

Roses. It is an automatic reply like he doesn’t need to think for even a second. Red Roses. Very cliché Sirius Black. Remus bites back a chuckle and tells her.

“Oh boy, Remus, you have a hopeless romantic in that house sulking alone, and what you are doing to him is brutal.” She is grinning at him, and he is quite grateful of her for not scolding him because he suddenly feels that he deserves it. He was too distant while being next to Sirius. He would much rather prefer to take responsibility for all of this, and make things right between them.

He apparates in front of Grimmauld Place 12, clutching a bouquet of fresh red roses. He grimaces when the scent fills his nostrils, and the idea of being above forty and doing such gesture is making him nervous. He enters the house, and suddenly stops in his track to find that the hallway is not dark anymore, it is kindled up by so many candles and enchanted stardust floating in mid-air, taking various beautiful colors. For a second, he thinks he is somewhere else. Maybe 11 or 13 Grimmauld Place? But then Sirius emerges with a pop, wearing an apron, his hair is neatly tied in a bun. He is also wearing black robes, and he has shaved but there are dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey!” Sirius walks towards him and he is saying a lot of things with the weak smile on his face, but Remus is staring him with utter fascination. He is suddenly feeling very young to realize that Sirius can still make him fluster with nothing but looking like that. Remus cannot let out a word from his mouth, but then he is broken out of his trance of swooning when he registers those silver orbs are widening, and then glistening. Remus feels an unexpected panic rising in his stomach because now tears are streaming down Sirius’ cheeks. And before he knows it, Sirius has crashed his lips on his. Remus cannot help but kiss him back. His damp is skin rubbing his, and they both rests their forehead against each other.

“Thank you.” Sirius whispers, pressing a kiss on his nose. Remus has forgotten that he have brought roses for the love of his life until Sirius is taking them, which is when he realizes the reason for why Sirius started crying suddenly. A weak grin appears on his lips, and Remus realize that he has never felt so happy in a longest while. “You remembered that I like roses.”

“Of course, darling.” Remus says teasingly, reaching forward to capture Sirius’ lips again, but then Sirius is laughing merrily which instantly warms Remus’ heart. Even so, he leans further and kisses him a little more earnestly. Sirius laces his arms around him, and Remus takes their height difference as a benefit to scoop him up in his arms.

“Moony…”

“Yes, love?” Remus nuzzles his nose against Sirius’ cheeks, as they stumbles in the nearby drawing room.

“I’m sorry about today.”

Suddenly, the awkwardness returns.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Remus says, “It was a bad dream, Sirius. I know that you love me, and I love you. It’s enough and we should be forever together and we should probably get married and have a new life and live in a country or something far away from everything and all and—“

Sirius is gawking at him, dumbfounded, and Remus realizes that he is rambling. He wants to slap himself right now. He might have ruined the night he is intending to make the most opportune.

“I mean…I—Sirius…” He knows that he is still scared. No matter how much the therapist has tried convincing him, he knows that no one can convince him completely, but Sirius Black. He wants to walk past the layer of no communication, and he does.

“Sirius…I can never hurt you. I can never even imagine of hurting you that way. I certainly have hurt you emotionally in the past, and maybe I still am, and if you feel like it then please talk to me, tell me if I have hurt you. But I have never hurt you physically, Sirius. I have never. It is worrying me. Have I done anything? Don’t fear, Sirius, I promise you that I am not walking unless you order me away.”

Sirius slightly shakes his head at the end of Remus’ statement. He cups his face and places a lingering and soft kiss on his forehead.

“It is you. The real you.” He whispers against his skin, and it confuses Remus. “Remus…It was not you in the dream. It was you in front of me but this…” Sirius ran his hands on the latter body, squeezing his arms with fondness swimming in his eyes, “this feeling of you, your arms, these hands and…just you... were not in the dream. It was him. The same feeling.”

“Him?” Remus knows where this is going. He already has his suspicions.

“My father.” Sirius’ reply doesn’t fail to make his eyes instinctively wide. The thought makes him shudder and Sirius slips away from his embrace, looking miserably lost.

There is one question that is still not planning on leaving his mind and he feels he needs to ask this from Sirius, no matter what the answer, and he does.

“Why still me?”

Remus expects that he will receive a very disgusting reply from Sirius, or a glare, or maybe he has completely ruin their night and Sirius will be shutting him out for good. But—

“I came face to face with my boggart the other day in the ministry.” Sirius replies, looking straight in his eyes. Remus can recall that Sirius’ boggart was his mother when they discovered in their third year’s Defense against the Dark Arts class. However, Sirius must have read his mind when he continues, “It is not my mother anymore.”

There is a brief, tensed silence between them.

“It was you.” Remus’ heart suddenly stops. He fights to keep a poker face. “You were there looking at me with disgust and…” He can see that Sirius is struggling through his words as if they are causing him physical pain. “…you were looking at me with such hate and you said you were leaving me because you were tired of me. You…you have never looked at me like that…”

Tears are spilling from his grey eyes.

“You have always looked at me with warmth and humbleness, but that image of you is not leaving my mind. It is there and it is making me believe that it is true, Remus, because I don’t deserve you. You are so worthy of love, I am not. I was never worthy of love. I drove you mad in our relationship. I betrayed you once, and then made you believe that I can betray you twice. But you…you never did anything like that. You compromised yourself for me, in every way. You dealt with me for a very long time, and I won’t blame you if you don’t want to deal with me anymore. It would hurt. So much, because for me, it’s hard to imagine my life without you after everything we’ve been through, together.”

Remus is numbly standing, just looking at Sirius’ face flooding with tears. He feels like his heart is breaking and mending, breaking and then again mending, back and forth. He wishes internally that Sirius’ words may leave his heart mended, because he knows he cannot deal with another heartbreak, another loss, or another tragedy.

“Know this,” Sirius comes close and touches his wet cheeks, which is when he realize that the tears are also silently rolling down his own face. “…that I love you, Remus. I know you can’t hurt me. You’ve never because you have a pure heart, Moony.”

This is when Remus doesn’t take anymore. He shoves Sirius in his arms and sobs in his shoulder. He feels Sirius relaxing into his embrace because he is placing feather-light kisses on Remus’ exposed neck.

“I’m so sorry. I am so sorry, Sirius.” He doesn’t know for what he is exactly asking his forgiveness, but he knows deep down inside his heart that it is for everything that has happened in their lives.

“But no,” He pulls out to face Sirius, desperately reaches his hands to intertwine with his, “I am not leaving you, not because I can’t but because I don’t want to be away from you. I can never be tired of you, Padfoot! And I can’t be surer about that. You think I compromised my comfort for you? That was not a compromise. That was my love for you. And it still is, here. I never regretted our relationship because of you. I did once because of myself because you had to deal with me, my cursed and poverty-stricken life. I am nothing compared to you, and yet you want me. How can I not love you? How can I disgust you? Or hate you? It’s something that can never exist when it comes to you. I don’t think I loved anyone like that except for you. I still want you, only you. I love you, a little too much, please believe me.”

Sirius has his forehead pressed with his, as he murmurs against his cheek, “I believe you, Remus.”

They kiss and they kiss for Merlin knows how long. Remus is suddenly yanked back into one of his favorite memories with Sirius, when they were at Hogwarts and it was their seventh year. He remembers that those days were Christmas holidays because they were fooling around in their dorm very peacefully, with no fear of James or Peter interrupting them. The both lovebirds were the only ones who didn’t leave for their homes. The erratic breathing, the electric excitement in their bodies, the eagerness to explore each other’s mouth is something Remus can distinctly recall from that day, at this very moment because it feels just the same as if they are seventeen again.

He reaches for Sirius’ robes to unbutton them when Sirius pulls back gently.

“Wait,” For a second, Remus thinks that this is not what Sirius wants before he smiles romantically, “I hope you have guessed why I am wearing an apron?”

“You cooked?” Remus gapes at him that makes the other laugh gleefully. That laugh makes his heart flutter again like happiness was bubbling out of him. Sirius nods at him.

“I thought I should make up for disrupting your morning, and I know you must have taken a lot of stress at work because of me. So I made your favorites.”

“You didn’t have to do this, love, I know cooking is not something you like to do.”

“Wrong!” Sirius gasped dramatically, “I love to cook for you! And besides, you bought these roses for me…” He picks out the bouquet, sniffing its scent, admiring the handiwork, and smiling the entire time as he brushes his fingers around the rims of each petals of the roses. Remus just stares at him like that. He could see the pink flush appearing on Sirius’ cheeks, and he thinks to himself that this is the most scenic view to look at. He suddenly recognizes that all of his exhaustion has dissipated from his body, and he is very much looking forward to the rest of their night.

“Come on, first dinner, and then we’ll see.” Sirius winks, taking him to kitchen when Remus stops him gradually.

“Tell me you are not frightened of me, are you? Be honest with me, Sirius.”

“I was never, Remus. I was frightened of being alone. My own mind was playing tricks on me. But not you, never you.”

Remus sees his eyes are promising.

“Promise me that you will talk to me, about anything like we used to. Just like the old times.”

“Just like the old times. I promise, Moony.”

Sirius’ eyes returns the glimmer, and they are shinning like they used to before war, or Azkaban. Remus feels the contentment spreading in his heart and comes to a realization that it is all he have been yearning for.

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar angst #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #post wizarding war #lovelycouple #mental health #boggart

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sl-walker · 3 years ago

Photo

All right, since I’m in the middle of a flare and have to work manual labor for the next four days despite it, I figured I would make myself -- and hopefully other people -- laugh by talking about one of my favorite OG Captain Marvel stories. Namely, from Whiz #50, with a cover date of January, 1944, meaning it was probably produced sometime in late 1943.

I want to share it because why not, this is some absurdly charming stuff.

I’ll get more into why it’s one of my favorites as we go, in the form of running commentary. So, full story (with said commentary) under the cut. If you wanna just read the story without my commentary, stick to the pictures. XD

First, let me say that the cover and splash page definitely live up to the story, though the cover’s a bit more sensationalized. But the premise is pretty damn simple: Our intrepid hero and his newsboy alter ego are on vacation. Cap decides to go swimming. It goes hilariously wrong and thus ensues a bit of a madcap adventure, no puns intended.

Second, the fact that Cap and Billy are depicted as essentially different entities makes what Billy does next the ultimate trolling:

Gee, airing out the stolen laundry on the radio? Really? I’ll leave it up to you, gentle reader, whether Billy actually was trolling his own alter-ego for ratings or whether he was just innocently sharing the story while his other-self winced quietly in whatever ether-space he exists in when not front-and-center.

Either way, I love it.

Continuing on...

I get a kick out of the fact that Billy’s monologue is that he’s no dare-devil. One, because that’s so obviously not true in any way -- (that kid is awesomely, sometimes recklessly brave on the regular even without Cap) -- but two, because the bridge is actually named Dare-Devil Bridge. We aren’t given any reason why this dangerous potential death-trap is there, hanging without so much as a gate or a warning sign or anything, because we don’t need one. It’s there specifically for what happens next.

Which, of course, is Billy calling in Captain Marvel, who does some light complaining about the situation Billy left him in. There’s no bite to it, which I find adorable -- Cap actually does get frustrated once or twice in other issues with Billy calling on him for mundane stuff, though he’s never mean about it -- but there is a bit of the sense of being put-upon there that’s just-- I dunno, cute. It’s something I miss a lot in the various post-crisis takes on the character: That duality, that difference in personality, and the way each of them responds to different situations. Often, they’re on the same page, but notably, sometimes, they aren’t.

Someday, I promise, I need to sit down and write how I think that works between those two without being a truly frightening mental illness manifested, what with them being the same person but not the same person. Because I have so many ideas, and I’ve only had since the early-2000s to percolate them. LOL! But until then, just enjoy this.

Here is another reason why I love the Golden Age Captain Marvel books and why I love this specific story: This is an absolutely normal, mundane thing to do. It’s the human thing to do. These aren’t the actions of some super-serious superdude. These are the actions of a pretty shockingly normal guy doing something mundane. And a whole story is built around that normalcy.

It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s the reader already knowing that he’s getting himself into a situation that he absolutely could have avoided, but also completely understanding how it happened anyway. It’s pretty brilliant writing: I say this as a pretty damned good writer myself.

So much of the reason why, I think, Cap was so endearing as a hero is that humanity. He’s got pretty much god-tier power in the Golden Age, once his powerset is established. He’s utterly invulnerable to all physical harm while powered up. But-- he’s human. He knows he’s human. He acts like it, and decides, “You know what? I’m going skinny-dipping.”

He and Billy are both characters it’s so easy to empathize with.

Also, a reminder that the art under Chief Artist C.C. Beck is really, really good. (He had a whole stable of artists to help produce this stuff!) Ignoring registration issues on the printing press, the actual line art is amazingly good; proportion and perspective and consistency.

But anyway--Cap does get to enjoy his swim. But, then, oh no.

I love the idea of a world where the prime hero -- and he definitely is in that world -- can take off his suit and go swimming, and where someone else is bold enough to steal the damn suit off of him. The first time I read this, I started laughing here. Not at him, but at the situation he’s found himself in. At the idea that some random passer-by saw Captain Marvel’s costume and went yoink!

Another thing I love about this particular story is how much Cap and Billy have to work together, just by necessity. Like-- it’s just really good. But anyway, thank everything Billy Batson is on the ball, coming to the rescue.

Sheer bad luck via the weather keeps this story rolling along in hilarious misdirections. Realistically, that uniform probably wouldn’t be all buttoned together (we see Cap take off pieces of it aside the pants in other issues, including socks!), but who cares? The point of the story is that giant bear rug on the floor’s gonna get put to use.

Man, when have you ever seen Superman creeping naked through some stranger’s house wearing nothing but a random polar bear because he went skinny dipping? No wonder these comics sold so well. This next panel is when I start wheezing, though, and pretty much keep wheezing.

“A lady, too! I’ve got to get away from here!”

I’m dying at this point. That’s such a characteristic response, and yet, I think that’s why it’s funny.

Anyway, because this is an excellent story (I mean this without an ounce of irony, too), our dynamic duo stumbles across a plot in play to rob the hotel they’re staying at.

Here’s a big part of why this is such a good tale: Everything fits. Even when it isn’t explained, like Dare-Devil Bridge, it still fits. Why is the tree down? Because there was just a thunder storm, the same one that blew Cap’s suit into the room with the gangsters.

I don’t know if this is Otto Binder’s story, but I wouldn’t be surprised in the least. It’s a complete story told in relatively few pages that accomplishes everything it’s meant to.

Anyway, using foliage as cover, Cap gets to be heroic----then Billy gets to get back to the business of trying to stop the robbery of the hotel and get his heroic alter-ego dressed again. Which leads to a rather adorable and funny scene of Billy not only trying to describe what Captain Marvel wears, but what size it would need to be tailored in.

(Cap is supposedly a 44 for a suit coat, we find in some earlier appearance, which would refer to his chest size. So, an XL for shirts and suit-coats. He’s a big guy, but he’s actually not a hulking huge guy. But more on that later.)

I love the fact Billy tries to like-- use himself as a model. Maybe in another ten years, kiddo. Billy’s actually pretty buff for like a 12-14 year old, he’s not a scrawny kid at this point, but yeah, no. LOL!

Another thing I also really, really love about this style, though, is that they draw Captain Marvel as being strong, as having a powerful build-- but not as a dehydrated body-builder with deep cuts. He’s got human proportions, regardless of his strength; he’s got a human build, not a superhuman one.

C.C. Beck had a lot of things to say about superheroes who were just muscles on top of muscles, all clearly defined, and he didn’t like it. As someone who first got into comics in the early 90s with Jim Lee’s X-Men--

I do get Beck’s point. I not only get it, but I really highly approve of it. He maintained to the end that he drew (and oversaw) the Marvel family to look like high school and college athletes, and I can see that. I think the one person who’s gotten it right in the modern era is Evan “Doc” Shaner, who did Convergence: Shazam! He not only nailed that strong-but-not-hulking build for Cap, but also how young he looked. College-age, in fact.

But anyway, enough digression into art and why I like this better than most modern takes on the character. Also, that’s just a cute set of panels.

I also like that there wasn’t an easy fix there. Cap’s still in his not-birthday suit, and Billy’s still stuck running around trying to solve the issues at hand. Next comes some other really good panels:

-snorts- He’s locked in. Yeah, that’ll hold him.

Anyway, what I really liked here was again that tandem working; Billy can’t punch through a wall, but Cap can. Cap can’t crawl out while he’s au natural -- well, he could, but he’d probably rather die first -- but Billy’s got no such issue. It’s just fun when you get to see them doing something like that. You have to really think for a minute about the trust each of them must have in their alter-ego.

ANYWAY, we get the rare treat then--

--of Captain Marvel not only yoinking a dude into a dark room, but then stealing his clothes. Except, not his underwear. Because that’s nasty. LOL!

I love that in this series, you do actually get to see him wear other stuff. Go incognito. Get his red suit messed up enough to take it to a dry cleaner’s, wherein he ends up dressed like a musketeer after. Jerry Ordway’s series is, I think, the only other time we see Cap not wearing his famous suit, but it happened enough in the Golden Age that it wasn’t a shock.

Like, I hate to be the one to say this, but I do think DC drops the ball often on just how much you can do with Captain Marvel (or Shazam, depending on timeline, but that’s the wizard’s name to me so mostly I’ll stick with the original name) if you unbend enough to. It’s not just the costume change, or the duality of him and Billy being the same but not, but also his inherent, essential humanity.

But I am digressing again, sorry. XD I just feel strongly enough about these versions of these characters to spend hours writing this.

Anyway, only a single panel later:

And that’s that! Billy Batson has just outed his own alter-ego’s most embarrassing moment to whomever’s listening to WHIZ radio -- thank everything podcasts and the internet weren’t available then, ha! -- and we get to see a recounting of a very fun story.

Like I said earlier, I love this one for its essential humanity. The hero got himself into this mess, he and Billy got him out of this mess, and stopping the criminals was actually just kind of a lucky stroke thrown in there. But even though Cap got himself into this, the story never treats him like he’s stupid. It never treats him like he’s some kind of idiot. You’re laughing, but-- not in a mean way.

I love how human it is. How complete it is. How genuinely funny it is. It’s a thousand times more funny when you genuinely love and respect Captain Marvel and Billy Batson, too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this dissertation on a skinny-dipping hero. LOL! I enjoyed sharing it with you.

#dc captain marvel #billy batson #shazam #whiz comics

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ernmark · 4 years ago

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The Heart of it All (pt 1) Reaction

Spoilers under the cut

The episode begins with a sound like a mechanical heartbeat, like an EKG. I like that.

----

A year. A year timeskip since the last episode. Holy crap.

First of all, that’s a hell of a long engagement-- far longer than necessary, I think, and I think Vespa observed as much, too. Buddy’s putting off the big mission (and in turn, the wedding) because she’s scared of what comes next. I feel like she needs to have a conversation with Juno about that-- about running away from the things you want most because you’re scared, except she does it with more style.

I love the soft, gentle way Vespa talks to Buddy-- and the way she starts to babble when she gets excited-- and then when Buddy puts her off a little bit of that raw roughness creeps back in. I’d want to hug her if I didn’t think it would kill me.

Also, I love the montage of moments in between-- there’s plenty of room for fanfic in this year, no doubt about it. “Bad Cops 4: Guns Are Illegal, So They Use Swords Now”. Juno being pissy that they skipped his favorite in the series, the fact that Jet thinks car crashes are too violent but people getting murdered to death is totally hilarious. Rita calling Buddy “Mom”.

----

The moment in privacy with her and Jet was really telling-- and not just the evidence of just how much of her is robotic. This is a side of her we just don’t see elsewhere. She’s fronting, she’s evasive, she laughs nervously and without that controlled glamour she always has. She’s never this vulnerable around anyone else, even Vespa. (And you can bet Vespa can sense that there’s something Buddy’s hiding from her, and a secret layer of rawness that she isn’t allowed to touch, and you can hear how much that hurts her). And for all this closeness, Jet still catches her off guard-- and he’s been picking up perceptiveness from Juno, which I love.

----

“Damn. She’s a quick one, that Buddy Aurinko. Ever a thorn in my side.” It’s telling just how many times we’ve dealt with our POV characters speaking of past and future selves as different people. It’s very much A Thing, and I want to see it manifested physically by the finale, because I’m obvious like that.

-----

One of the things that makes me really frustrated with Buddy is that by trying to protect Vespa, she’s making her more nervous. Vespa’s not an idiot, she knows something’s wrong-- but without Buddy to help her understand it, Vespa’s stuck trying to guess randomly, and her mental illness is going to supply all sorts of worst case scenarios that Buddy wouldn’t dream of.

And Vespa? Vespa fell from a hundreds-story building and lived. Do you really think she managed that without some really intensive self-surgery? It’s not impossible that she has some bionics of her own. And even if she doesn’t, do you really think she’s never worked with machines and bionic parts before? And if she hasn’t, don’t you think she of all people-- the assassin, the thief, the master medic-- would be able to figure something out? Or find someone who could?

Buddy’s fear and pride are sabotaging her happiness. And that makes sense, because her pride is the first thing we knew about her. It’s one of her best features. Of course it would be her greatest flaw.

-----

I love that Buddy has to write out her speeches ahead of time, and critiques herself for repeating lines even when nobody else can hear them both.

(And immediately I wonder what she’d have to say about how much I repeat myself, and immediately I can think of her reply: “Nonsense, dear. If there’s no room to improve then you’re doomed to get worse or go stale. Make your mistakes so you can learn from them and then go make some new ones.”)

----

I find it so interesting that Buddy is impeccably organized and Peter is just a big ol’ mess-- to the point where you literally can’t tell whether his room is booby trapped or just that sloppy (And even if he is Just That Sloppy, who the fuck keeps an unsheathed knife just lying there, in the open? Really, Peter.)

(Also, I think it is official that all their “poetry readings”, “therapy sessions” and “whatever” happen in Juno’s room, at least after the first couple of weeks. What the fuck.)

----

“Jet’s danger is nothing compared to what lies ahead”.

In typical tiered dungeon story style, we’ve eliminated Rita (at the door) and Jet (upon being shot).

That leaves theoretically three tasks for Vespa, Juno, and Peter.

These three characters specifically are each love interests in a major established, endgame couple, which would ordinarily be a quick way to suss out who’s in which role.

Also, there’s a weird triangle of protagonist/antagonist going on here. Because Juno’s thwarted Vespa to protect Peter, but Vespa’s major gripe is with Peter, not Juno. And Juno believes and trusts Vespa, despite their bickering. And as much as he loves and trusts Peter, he has on multiple times arrested, thwarted, and called him out.

It’s like this whole situation is designed to thwart trope-readers like me.

My guess is that Vespa is going to have the be left behind/turn back at the end of this episode, when Buddy tells her the truth about her heart. That’ll leave Juno and Peter alone in the next chamber, when Juno finally confronts Peter about what he’s figured out thusfar (as the POV character, of course).

Or Vespa runs back early to rescue Buddy from heart failure with Jet, gets furious with Buddy for keeping this Very Big Thing from her, and then goes back to Juno and Peter to finish the job in a seething (and possibly murderous) rage.

#the penumbra podcast #100

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bytheangell · 4 years ago

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Hi!! I loved a lot your last Gabrily fic, and if you are still open to requests can I suggest one about them finding out they were having another kid so long after the other two? Baby Alexander barely gets mentioned eventhough he is the person Alec is named after, maybe at some point he did something great who know. I always find it curious how they reactions could have been to have another one so long after Christopher.. Ofc if this sits right with you and feel like it, thank uu

Breaking the News (Read on AO3)

Cecily is thankful that Will and Tessa agreed to take Anna and Christopher to stay with them for the remainder of the day. Her thoughts bounce wildly from nervous to excited to total panic and everything in-between as she paces back and forth across the bedroom floor. Alone in the house until Gabriel arrives home in a few short hours, she wanted the time to come to terms with the news she got that morning and sort through her thoughts. Now that she has the time, she can’t sort through anything at all.

It doesn’t help that she’s been sick. That was the first hint that something was wrong, she suspected what may be the cause of her sudden recurring nausea and weakness, though she hardly dared to believe it. After spending the better part of the past week exhausted and obviously ill, Anna brought one of the Institute’s healers around to check on her, which was when they confirmed what she already partially guessed.

Except now that Cecily knows for certain that she’s pregnant with her third child, it’s quite the shock to process, with or without the distractions of two other children in the house.

She knows her initial doubts are mostly from the surprise of it all. Cecily likes being in control, and this is something she has no control over. This is happening, whether she wants it to or not, and even though she knows it’s a blessing the fact that she didn’t specifically choose to do this here and now throws her entire sense of being off-balance, enough for doubt to creep in. What if it isn’t just shock?

But that’s absurd. She loves her children, and she loved - and still loves - every moment of raising them. The chance to do all of that again is, while still a shock, a happy one. At least, it will be once she manages to get back in control of her racing thoughts and emotions.

Anna and Christopher are both teenagers now, sixteen and thirteen respectfully, and that fact isn’t lost on her. A new baby means 24/7 attention, days of constant needs and care that she thought were behind her. What if she thinks she can handle it but once the child is here she grows too overwhelmed tending to a newborn and two teenagers? Realizations like this are when the fear kicks in - she’s 37 years old, after all, and Gabriel 40.

Gabriel. What if he thinks them both too old to have a baby now? What if he hates the idea? It’s another reason she asked her brother to take the children - this is a conversation she wants them to have complete privacy for, just in case…

...just in case what?, she chides herself. This is Gabriel, after all. She remembers the years they spent together figuring out how to be parents to two wildly different children, remembers how good he was - and still is - with each of them, and how he’s never shown them anything other than unwavering love and devotion. This won’t be any different, she reminds herself, pushing the fear aside and allowing the nervous excitement to take over again.

She remembers the joy of raising Christopher and Anna, of watching them grow and learn and take their first steps and get their first runes… the joy of little moments and milestones she thought were long over for her. Anna is always so good with her brother, and Cecily can already imagine how wonderful Christopher will be as an older sibling, always so eager to teach others about his experiments. He could teach so much to a little brother or sister.

Cecily can only hope they’re as eager to have another sibling as she is to give them one.

Nervous. Excited. Fearful. Happy. Concerned. Eager. Her emotions shift and change more rapidly than she can keep up with until, finally, they settle along with her thoughts into one: contentment. This is happening, whether she’s ready for it to or not, and she’ll be damned if she isn’t going to make the absolute best of it.

When Gabriel finally arrives home he finds her in their bedroom, pacing as she’s been doing off-and-on for hours now as she tries to work out the best way to break the news.

“Cecily?” he greets her, voice uncertain. He’s been away in Idris but came back earlier than planned after hearing she hasn’t been feeling well. “Is everything alright? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Gabriel takes a few steps into the room and reaches a hand out to still her anxious movements, resting it gently on her shoulder.

Cecily stops pacing and forces a small smile onto her face. “There will be plenty of time for resting soon,” she says cryptically. “And whether or not everything is alright depends largely on how you feel about…” she wonders briefly if there’s a good way to phrase this, or at least a better way than simply blurting it out.

It’s a pity that tact and gentle phrasing has never been one of Cecily’s strong suits.

“...about having another child,” she finishes, carefully watching his expression.

It’s difficult to decipher much beyond Gabriel’s absolute shock, which is fair. She’s still a bit shocked herself and she’s had hours to process the news. His hand remains on her shoulder and she feels the grip of it tighten ever so slightly.

“Just to be clear,” Gabriel says cautiously. “You’re saying this simply because you want to have another child, or because-”

“Because I’m pregnant,” she confirms.

A silence falls between them then. Cecily can see the wheels turning in Gabriel’s mind, the way his eyes shift constantly from her face to her stomach to the room around them as he processes this information, and it takes all of what little self-control Cecily possesses to allow him that time.

“You’re pregnant,” he finally repeats, and then, very slowly, his lips curl up into an eager smile. “That’s wonderful!”

“It is?” Cecily asks, the words slipping out in a rush of relief after she’d mentally prepared herself for the worst possible reaction.

“Isn’t it?” Gabriel counters, sounding suddenly unsure of his reaction.

“I mean, yes, of course, it is! But we’re not exactly in our prime, and it isn’t as if we planned this, or anticipated the possibility the way we had with Anna and Christopher. I just thought… I know it’s silly but I was afraid you might…” Cecily struggles to find the words for the fears that are suddenly rendered baseless in her mind.

“Cecily, my dear, sweet Cecily,” Gabriel says, wrapping his arms around her to pull her in close to him, mindful not to pull too tightly. “I love you, and I love our family, and any addition to it is nothing other than a blessing, no matter how unexpected.” He moves to hold her just far enough away to lean in and place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Cecily feels a few errant tears make their way down her cheeks in both joy and relief.

“I feel the same,” she agrees. “And I knew you would, too. I just needed to hear you say it. Since I found out this morning all I could do was build it up in my head - we worked so hard to give Anna and Christopher stability and routine with their studies and training and this is going to upend all of that.”

“Do you think they’ll be upset?” Gabriel asks.

Cecily can only shrug. “I don’t know. I hope not, but… it is a big change. And it’ll be attention away from them, no matter how hard we try not to let it be. I just don’t want them to resent the baby, or us.”

“They won’t,” Gabriel says with a confidence Cecily wishes she felt. “Do you know how I know?”

The question should be rhetorical but he waits for an answer anyway, so Cecily asks, “How?”

The hand on her shoulder squeezes again, comforting as a knowing smile spreads across her husband’s face. “Because they’re our children, and we - you in particular - raised them to be the sort of people who have compassion and understanding, even as unruly teenagers. They’re going to adjust just fine - we all are.”

Cecily hadn’t anticipated the tears that now overwhelm her after such an emotional day, shed now for words of such simple kindness.

“Thank you,” Cecily says, shaking her head slowly. “For always knowing exactly what I need to hear.”

“Well, you make it easy when you’re always so effortlessly deserving of praise,” Gabriel counters, lifting his hand to wipe away a few stray happy tears. “I suppose I should wait until we tell the others before I go rearranging the whole house, shouldn’t I? We’ll have to make a few changes… clear out a room, set aside a bit more savings, arrange for me to be home with you for the foreseeable future, of course…”

As Gabriel begins to rattle off the things that come to mind for the immediate future, Cecily is struck by how incredibly lucky she truly is to have him by her side. He doesn’t miss a beat in figuring out how to rearrange his own life and habits to better tend to her and support their growing family. He doesn’t make so much as a passing mention of what an imposition such sudden changes will inevitably have on him.

“We’ll figure it out,” Cecily says, reaching out to take his hand in her’s. His own easy acceptance bleeds into her, calming her nerves and bringing a smile to her face. She thought those words over and over throughout the day, but this is the first time she thinks them without doubt and voices them with equal surety. They will figure it out. Together. “We have time, nothing has to be done or decided today.”

She glances at the clock. “In fact, perhaps we should enjoy the next hour or two to ourselves before Will and Tessa bring the children back. I’m sure once we tell them we won’t know a moment’s peace until months after the baby’s born,” she points out with a light laugh.

“I don’t know if you’re referring to your brother or the children,” Gabriel says. “Though I daresay it applies to the lot of them.”

Cecily rolls her eyes. “Oh, come now. You know I meant-” she begins, but stops abruptly. “No, you’re right. Will is going to be insufferable.”

Now it’s Gabriel’s turn to laugh. “We’ll face that inevitability when it comes. Right now, if I know you you’ve likely been stressed and wearing yourself out all day with worry. Let’s get you some proper rest before we break the news.”

It isn’t the sort of quiet, alone time she’d meant, but the moment he suggests it she knows it’s exactly what she needs. He always knows exactly what she needs. To her surprise, instead of tucking her in and going downstairs he gets into bed beside her, pulling her against his side, and she allows his warm, comforting presence to lull her into the best rest she’s had in days.

#gabrily #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #tsc #SORRY THIS TOOK ME A MILLION YEARS #but I hope you like it!#honestly I re-wrote it about a dozen times because I kept changing how I thought they'd react #and this could probably go quite a few ways but this is the one i ended up with #and i hope you like it! <3 #long post #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #anon glamour activated #ask rune #elle talks too much

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roleplay-salt · 4 years ago

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“The only thing “boring af” here is apparently you. God, I can’t believe I have to properly explain and defend the right to explore and write villains and truly evil acts on a topic as this... but I won’t leave behind any darkly written muse. Look, just because you won’t write it nor associate with anyone who does write it, doesn’t mean you get to pretend that there isn’t a single reason out there about this topic that would be attractive to another writer. You’re just being a dickhead for the sake of being a dickhead, acting as if preying on children is literally the only thing that can be written about a pedophile. Here are some good reasons, at the drop of hat, because that how easy it is when you choose to think critically, not emotionally: 1. Writing the pedophile as NOT a villain, but as someone struggling to overcome their sickness, which certainly acknowledges the whole point of the OG OP’s point: That they’re human beings, too, but living with a serious, perhaps even dangerous, mental illness. They still live normal human lives in the public eye - they still go to school; have jobs, friends, family, even adult lovers; have enemies and troubles that have nothing to do with their illness; have hobbies and interests that have nothing to do with their illness. And then even exploring how their illness fucks with any or all of these normal aspects in their life. 2. Writing them 100% a villain - someone who has embraced their evil. They don’t care about the harm they cause; they’re selfish and they want what they want. But it can’t be easy to take what you want without getting caught, right? So, the writer explores the psychological aspect of deception, manipulation, secrecy, and intimidation all the while portraying their character as someone wholesome, charming, and a productive member of society. Like serial killers, both fictional (Dexter? Hannibal?) and real (John Wayne Gacy? Ted Bundy?). 3. Exploring the extreme psychological element behind grooming a child. How will the pedophile go about it? How do they keep the secret between them and the child? How does the relationship develop between them and the child? How do they interact together outside of the act of sexual abuse? Does the pedophile fall in love? Does the child grow up with a twisted sense of love and devotion? Very much exploring the lasting impact, much like what happened in Lolita. 4. Why does the child have to be human? Why can’t they be an immortal of some sort, forever trapped in the body of a child, but with the mind of an adult? If that’s the case, then the writer can also easily explore the aspect of the CHILD being the sexual predator, luring in an adult human who may not be a pedophile, but has no choice but to be their lover. Or what if both the child and adult are both immortals? (Claudia and Louis from Interview with the Vampire? Anyone?) 5. Why would it ever have to take place in today’s modern world? Why couldn’t it take place in a dystopian-type era, where there are no laws? Do you seriously believe that in a world where there is only survival, everything BUT child rape happens? What if it’s a different species? Or an alien culture? 6. Why does it have to be a MALE pedophile?? (Because I noticed that immediately, using male pronouns, acting as if there has never been an instance where a woman sexually abuses a child.) Why does it even have to be an adult as a pedophile? There are absolutely child and teenage pedophiles. 7. Why does it even have to be a pedophile, someone who is sexually attracted to minors under the age of eleven years old? Why not a hebephile (attracted to minors between the ages of eleven and fourteen)? Why not an ephebophile (attracted to minors between the ages of fifteen and nineteen)? Female sexual predators are DEFINITELY prolific with these age groups, specifically teachers. I don’t write pedophilia, and I don’t foresee a circumstance where I might consider it, but I can see SO many perspectives as to why someone else would, because the shit is no different from writing anything else dark, ESPECIALLY if it has a sexual aspect to it. Because for whatever goddamn reason with you people, you can write about a child slowly cannibalizing another child, or someone brutally murdering a woman and carving out her eyes for a trophy, or someone sadistically torturing a man by slowly cutting out his intestines and wrenching out his teeth one by one... But if you have that character touch their genitals in ANY WAY, then suddenly it’s too much. “You’ve gone TOO FAR, my dude, adding a sexual element prior to that horrific, violent BEATING act you just had your character bestow that child. Why, yes, of course you can starve that child. Force it to sit at the table and endure the rest of the family eat a steak and potato dinner! Yes, let the child be denied a bed or blanket; let it sleep on the floor, using sheets of paper towel as a way to keep warm! ...H-hey, what? Whoa, whoa, WHOA! What are you doing? Are you writing about your character SEXUALLY abusing the child? What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you LIKE that kind of shit or something? Wow, you’re a creep. That shit’s illegal for a reason! THINK ABOUT THE REAL VICTIMS YOU’RE HURTING!” It’s just ignorant and absurd, and I won’t have it. I will side with someone who wants to explore the dark themes of a pedophile before I ever side with the fucking hypocrisy and insufferable moral grandstanding of those who make exceptions for everything... as long as it doesn’t involve a dreaded sex crime. You don’t have to fucking write it; no one is even saying you have to fucking like it or agree with it. But don’t fucking pretend to be morally superior because you won’t write it, and don’t be so insulting as to imply that there is nothing creatively interesting to be explored.”

RE: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13| 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33

#{submission || reply}#confession #roleplay confession #twcontroversy #dark content #long post

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greycappedjester · 4 years ago

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What is your take on Barbara in your Young Justice story? As in what comics or shows inspired you? Also, how is she handling(i don't know another word) her feeling for Dick? From what I can take is that she still loves him; she wants him to be happy and will do things for him to accomplish that. Idk i don't think she has time to really "move on" even if she tried because she will always be there for him... along with the other bat-family

Thank you so much! Hmmm, I love Babs a lot but I’m trying to think of where I primarily draw her character from--probably a mix of her Oracle days, Birds of Prey, some Batgirl Year One, with a bit of fandom in general, Young Justice (ofc), and the Batman animated show I watched when I was younger. Anything that shows Barbara as competent, efficient, a badass but also clearly cares about her family and the people she works with. She’s such a great example of a character that can both act marvelously and unhesitatingly in a support role without making supporting others seem lesser in any way--because really how would any of the Batfamily in the 90s-early 2000s get anything done without her--while also being a hero/ main character in her own right (with Oracle and Birds of Prey).

For how she’s dealing with her feelings--I think what you said is fair: she loves him, she wants him to be happy and is glad that he seems to be with Kory, she does have trouble moving on completely because they always work together. It’s essentially Barbara’s a wonderful person about prioritizing her goals--her top goal is to keep her loved ones (and Gotham) safe through anyway she can help them. As long as she has that, she can be happy...even if she sometimes is too selfless in that she removes herself from (or allows) situations where she thinks she’s too biased even if she thinks the situation is ill-considered.....that’ll make sense a lot more after the next year arc, promise.

Bonus very short story under break because I feel like it explains it better than my ramble.

Here is a piece of dialogue I wrote from a short story in Barbara’s POV. It’s not finished so I won’t post all of it; but, it’s called “Prom” and takes place between Year 2 and Year 3 (so post Batgirl, pre-Kory’s arrival on Earth).

-----

Barbara Gordon is in love with Dick Grayson.

She doesn’t let it affect her that much.

There’s more important things to worry about.

Namely being Batgirl, Gotham’s newest vigilante of about a year and a really good one if she does say so herself. And with that comes other worries. Like containing Arkham breakouts. And patrolling Crime Alley. And tracking down leads on whatever new addition there is to Gotham’s ever expanding list of batshit insanity. And going through the next torture mislabled as a training exercise because “we can never be too prepared, right, Babs?”. Or, hey, speaking of which, trying to make sure neither she nor Dick die in this nightmare of a city that she adores so much.

And then, there’s the additional joy of keeping all of the above mentioned vigilante activities out of the attention of her father aka the Police Commissioner aka one of the most observant men in Gotham.

The point is Barbara doesn’t have time to be part of anyone’s unrequited teenage love story, even if it’s her own.

All of which normally works out pretty darn well except for one occasional fact.

Dick Grayson is an idiot.

Big blue eyes look up at her imploringly from across the lunch table and Babs momentarily contemplates stabbing him with her fork.

“I just thought it would be a good idea,” he explains before hurrying to add, “if you don’t already have someone you want to go with, I mean.”

“You’re asking me to prom,” she says incredulously. “Wait, you’re telling me you don’t have a date to prom?”

Dick hesitates. “Um, well, no, I don’t. Not exactly.”

Barbara blinks, narrows her eyes, and then mentally translates that through her built in Dick Grayson decodifier. The answer comes alarmingly quickly.

“In other words, people asked you and you turned them down. So now, you have to find a date if you want to go and not look like an asshole,” she concludes.

Dick blushes and she knows she’s right.

Not that there was ever really a question because, unlike her, Dick actually is popular. Insanely so considering, like her, he’s two years younger than most of their classmates and makes the absolute minimal effort to be part of any extracurricular activities besides sporadic decathlon appearances.

Then again, maybe it’s not that surprising when you factor back in the whole billionaire heir status plus the...well, okay, the unfair levels of attractiveness and grace Dick exudes as unconsciously as breathing.

Dick smiles sheepishly and Barbara swears she hears a girl two tables away actually sigh.

“I just thought it would be more fun to go with you,” Dick insists and Barbara’s traitorous little heart might have skipped if he didn’t immediately follow it with, “as friends, you know?”

Barbara continues to stare at him because dang it, she might have tripped into a bad teen movie but she still has her pride.

“If you’re just asking me because you think I don’t have a date--”

Dick’s eyes immediately widen. “No! Babs, that’s not it at all, I swear!” He sighs, checking the cafeteria before leaning in. “It’s just...you know how things can get kind of, ah, busy all of the sudden for us, right?”

Oh….

Barbara nods, feeling like an idiot. She should have known it would all come back to vigilante stuff.

Dick looks relieved. “I just don’t want to agree to go to prom with someone when I’ve got to ditch them last minute if something comes up.”

“Oh,” she says, mostly on autopilot. “And at least if we go together and something happens…”

“We won’t be letting anyone down.” Dick smiles before shrugging. “And, if nothing happens, then I still get to go to prom with one of my best friends. Win-win.”

Barbara forces herself to swallow. “Win-win.”

“So, what do you say?” Dick’s smile goes a little bit mischievous. “Barbara Gordon, will you go to prom with me?”

The sad thing is that when it comes down to it, she doesn’t have to think about it.

“Sure, Dick.”

Dick’s face lights up, endearing in all the ways it’s not infuriating. “Really?”

Barbara shrugs, pulling up a smile. “What can I say? You know I love dancing.”

-----

Since apparently this is her life now, Barbara gives in to overdramatic impulses and throws herself onto the couch before finding a thick enough pillow to scream into.

When she finally lets the pillow slide off her face, her dad’s staring at her from over a heavy stack of case files.

“Bad day at school?”

She smiles sardonically. “I got a date for prom.”

“....Oh.” He frowns and there’s something Babs always finds oddly touching about the utter panicked confusion the hardened police commissioner shows with anything approaching the emotions of teenage girls. He shoulders through. “I thought you weren’t going to prom.”

“I wasn’t,” she agrees. Frankly, she thinks she could go her entire life without seeing classmates she barely talks to swaying awkwardly in a cramped gymnasium.

Her dad’s frown deepens. “Who’s the guy?”

She sighs, closing her eyes, already knowing how this will go. “Dick Grayson.”

“Ah...well that’s--”

“He asked me as friends,” she finishes.

Silence greets her response and Barbara shuts her eyes a bit tighter.

If there’s one thing she absolutely hates about being in love with Dick Grayson, it’s the fact that everyone else in her life already knows. Everyone except Dick.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s fine, Dad.”

“You want me to shoot him?”

She chokes on a laugh, finally opening her eyes. “You can’t. You’re a cop. The police frown on things like murder.”

He gives her a look, a smile creeping in under his moustache. “It’s Gotham, Barbara.”

She stands up, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t.” She smiles. “Gotham still needs one honest cop left.”

“Drats.” He catches her hand, smile evening out as he meets her eyes. “If he doesn’t see what’s in front of him, honey, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Barbara squeezes his hand in lieu of answering.

That’s the thing no one ever seems to get.

It isn’t that Dick doesn’t see her. In fact, she’s pretty sure Dick sees her better than anyone.

He’s her partner, the best friend she’s ever had, the one thing she knows she can always count on.

But, he’s not in love with her.

-------

Thanks for the ask!

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ofcupidslove · 4 years ago

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𝑐𝑢𝑝𝑖𝑑'𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙.

SUMMARY: Following the events of Aamon’s banishment, Cupid finds Bells at their lowest. Still reeling from the painful reminder of their own banishment from Heaven, Bells has a hard time coming to terms with what happened to Aamon. But with Cupid and Charlie’s help, Belphegor finds themselves on the mend as they process what exactly occurred that night at Lux Nightclub. TRIGGERS: Suicidal ideations, Murder mentions, Violence mentions, Depression, Mental Illness, A lotta angst all around WRITTEN WITH: @ofhellsbells, @ofdeathstouch

BELPHEGOR: Usually, when Belphegor felt sad or depressed, they slept. It never usually mattered where since they could sleep just about anywhere despite how uncomfortable it was. Their home was one of the most comfortable places they knew, but right now, even that couldn't get them to sleep. Belphegor had been awake since even before what happened at Lux, but it was the events that occurred there that kept him awake now. He didn't need to sleep or even close his eyes to know the nightmares that stirred in his head. He sat in the middle of the floor of his appartment, seeing visions of the past on his walls. Family turned against each other, killed each other, and then split apart. Then the vision shifted, and Belphegor watched as the two halves of the family fractured further, breaking into pieces more and more until everyone was all alone. That's how it will always be, the void told them. You will be alone as long as you're alive. “Shut up!” Belphegor cried out at himself, believing the void's voice to be just his own thoughts. He hit the palms of his hands against the sides of his head. It did nothing to stop the thoughts that plagued him. It's their fault you're like this. They started the war. They got your brother killed. Everything you lost is because of them. Being a part of that family is meaningless. Being a part of this life is meaningless. Belphegor was dangerously close to the edge. Their void had nearly consumed them except for that one sliver of them that miraculously held on. For whatever reason, they couldn't take the final step that the void wanted them to take just yet. Something held them back, and whether

CUPID: She wasn't sure what she felt anymore. When Michael had informed her about what happened at Lux she initially felt rage. She knew some kind of meeting was about to go down, Bells had mentioned it to her when they met up at the botanical gardens, but she had no idea the meeting was going to be that. She understood why Aamon had to be banished. Cupid wasn't going to ague that he didn't deserve it, but she didn't understand why Bells had to watch. Her anger turned to sadness as she watched the events of the aftermath unfold around her. Unpredictable weather patterns, sixteen car pile up outside of Lux, increased amount of suicide attempts within the radius of Lux. It was a short burst, but it was clear to see just how much this had affected Bells. What if I lose them for good this time? What if the void wins? This had been the most distraught she'd seen Bells in a long time and she couldn't help but think those thoughts. She didn't want to lose her best friend. Michael had demanded, ordered, commanded that she stay back for a few days and let herself and Belphegor cool off. She couldn't calm Bells down if she was elevated herself. At the time, she hated Michael for that but she knew he was right. So, when she calmed down enough, she made her way up to Bells room. Cupid couldn't see the wardings around the room but she could feel their presence. She knew they kept Bells powers contained to that room. Cupid knocked on the door and hoped against all hope that her friend would answer back. "Bells, it's me. It's Cupid. Are you in there?"

BELPHEGOR: When he heard her voice, there was silence for a long moment afterwards. He didn't know how to react to her being there. On the one hand, she was usually great to have around when he felt down, which was often, but on the other hand, Belphegor felt like Cupid also had a hand in what happened at Lux despite the fact that she hadn't been there. Aside from War, Aamon, and himself, Cupid was the only one who knew what had happened at the gala. Aamon and Belphegor had no reason to tell anyone what happened, and even if War had wanted to stir up trouble for Aamon, she'd been stuck in Belphegor's dumpster with no will to do anything during that time. Cupid, on the other hand, worked for Michael. It seemed most likely that she told him what happened and made Aamon's sentence even worse. Belphegor felt upset with her as a result too, like she was in on it with the rest of them. Deep down though, Belphegor didn't want to lose Cupid with the rest of them. They'd lost enough already, amd they still liked knowing she was nearby. He moved towards the door. His hand hovered over the door handle for a second before he remembered that opening it would put her in pain. Would she tell the others that he hurt her if he did that? Would she try to get him banished just like Aamon? He dropped his hand to his side and sat down, leaning his back against the door. “I'm here. What do you want?” he said, dark bitterness creeping into his voice.

CUPID: The silence was deafening and for a moment Cupid worried Bells might not answer the door. Bells anger was sometimes as big as their sadness and Cupid knew they would be upset with her. She hadn't told Michael anything the Archangel hadn't already surmised. Cupid unfortunately had a very readable face and Michael had gotten good at asking yes or no questions that she didn't even need to answer. He could gauge the answer just by the look on her face. It wasn't fair and she'd been practicing her poker face in front of the mirror but it didn't matter. She simply wasn't good at it. Cupid placed a hand on one of the door panels hoping to feel Bells on the other side but she felt nothing save for the wardings. Her lower lip trembled slightly but she took a deep breath and composed herself. She was about to turn away when she heard his voice. A lightness filled her chest. He sounded angry, but he was talking. She was just happy to hear the sound of his voice. "I wanted to check in on you," she replied, her voice full of hope despite herself. "I'm sorry about what happened to Aamon. How are you holding up?"

BELPHEGOR: He was angry for a number of reasons. Right now, his angry thoughts were centered around Cupid. He wasn't just mad at her because he thought she told Michael about what happened with Aamon. He was also mad because he thought that if Michael had any inkling whatsoever that Cupid knew something, he probably would have forced her to tell the truth. He didn't know if Michael would've hurt her to get that truth, but the thought of it alone made Belphegor even angrier. He couldn't trust what Michael said anymore, so he didn't feel like he knew who the archangel was anymore or what he might do. “Did you? Or did MiChAeL tell you to check up on me?” he asked, his words laced with venom as he said the archangel's name. “Does he think I'm going to hurt people, so he needed you to come spy on me? Is he looking for an excuse to send another demon back to Hell?” Belphegor didn't normally refer to themself or their siblings as demons. They were still archangels in his eyes, just fallen, but right now he felt like that's all Michael and the other archangels and angels that still operated in heaven would ever see them as. They were a band of monsters and disappointments that just needed to be hidden away from the view of humanity. “Well, I'm not hurting anyone right now, so he can go fuck himself!” He practically shouted the last part, as if Michael might be nearby, listening in to the conversation. “Are you?” he asked, drawing the conversation back to her. He didn't know if he could trust anyone at this point, even her, to tell the truth. “You and Aamon hated each other. Why would you give a shit over what happened to him?” Belphegor felt like he might've been the only one that actually cared that Aamon was gone.

“I'm fine.” It was a lie of course. Belphegor was the worst they had been in a long time. They didn't usually lie about how they felt. There usually wasn't a point to lie about it, especially to Cupid, who they felt they could open their whole heart to normally. Everyone else was lying now though, so why shouldn't he?

CUPID: His tone was harsh and biting, but she had to remind herself this wasn't Belphegor, this was the void. Her friend was buried deep in there somewhere and she was going to find him. Maybe she would only be successful for a few hours before the void tugged him back, but that was better than nothing. "Michael didn't send me, but he is worried about you," she replied as she took a seat on the ground beside the door. "He doesn't think you'll hurt people. Not intentionally like Aamon did." It hurt her to hear him refer to himself as a demon. She flinched a little as she heard him raise his voice. "If it makes you feel better, I told him pretty much the same thing a few nights ago. He didn't send me away to Heaven," she pointed out. The likelihood that Cupid would get sent to Heaven was small because Michael didn't like doing those sorts of things. Cupid knew the connection would likely escape Belphegor, but they would get it eventually. She could sense the distrust in her voice and it stung. She never lied to Belphegor. Not just because she had a terrible poker face but because she never felt the need to. "Aamon and I had our differences," she replied. It wasn't exactly a secret that Cups and Aamon did not get along. "He was mean but that's because he's broken. Some breaks you can see like when you break a bone, but his breaks...those happened in his heart and his mind. He was reckless, Bells. More reckless than you and I have ever seen him before. I think he wanted to get caught. You warned him about being careful and he didn't listen because he didn't want to listen." She shook her head when he replied he was fine. "I don't need to see you to know that's not true. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I brought my sleeping bag and my favorite pillow. Charlie said she'd bring me a pizza later. I can't come in because you're really strong right now, but I'm here."

BELPHEGOR: He didn't know if he could trust that. Cupid might not have been a great liar, but Belphegor didn't even trust himself at this point to be able to know for sure if anyone was lying to him. Besides, even if Cupid wasn't lying, it didn't mean that Michael told her the truth. Belphegor didn't doubt that Michael knew how to get Cupid to do something without even telling her to do it. Cupid was good, better than most other people and most other angels and archangels at least. It was easy to encourage her to do something if it would help someone or make them happier. "Why should I believe anything about what he thinks? He's already lied enough." Michael wasn't worried about Belphegor, not in the way that Cupid seemed to imply anyways. Belphegor had seen the way Michael had acted that night at Lux. He didn't spread out his wings in defense of everyone there because he was worried about Belphegor. He'd been worried about all the people that Belphegor's powers could hurt. He hadn't asked Belphegor to try to understand because he cared about how they felt. He just wanted to keep Belphegor calm, so they wouldn't hurt anyone. It hadn't worked that night. Everyone that came in the vicinity of Belphegor that night ached with them. Some even died as a result. They probably deserved death as much as Belphegor did. Would it really have been wrong of Michael to think that Belphegor would hurt people? "You yelled at Michael too?" he asked quietly after taking a moment to realize what she was saying. "Why did you do that?" He couldn't think of any kind of reason for her to be mad at Michael recently, not like Belphegor was. Even so, sending someone to Heaven wasn't as much of a punishment as it was to send someone to Hell. Belphegor might have gotten used to Hell enough to call it home, but they had always longed to be back in heaven. "I think you getting sent to Heaven would've been a bigger punishment for me than it would be for you. I'd miss you."

"We're not broken!" Belphegor snapped, hitting his hand on the wall. It shuddered slightly, but the sigils held it together. "He's not broken," Belphegor corrected himself, but his connection to Aamon was obvious. Belphegor related to Aamon in the way that everyone only seemed to see them in one way. They looked at Aamon with disdain, and they looked at Belphegor with pity. They both hurt and dealt with it differently, but they weren't broken. Belphegor didn't like the term broken. It made them sound weak and helpless, and they were both far from it. They just needed some help sometimes, just like everyone else did. "Maybe he's just mean because that's all anyone else has shown him. And now, he's back in Hell, where he'll only be exposed to more hate and anger." Belphegor let their head fall back against the door. "He didn't want to get caught. He just didn't care that he did. He told me not to trust Michael, and he was right. That meeting proved it, even at the cost of his banishment." Tears spilled out of Belphegor's eyes. "He wouldn't have had to if I had just believed him in the first place." His expression hardened as Cupid called him out on his lie. "Then why did you bother asking if you already knew the answer? I'm guessing Michael already told you everything that happened, probably twisted in some way to make it seem like he was doing something heroic instead of the crimes they actually committed, just like the war." It had been like the war in more ways than one, but Belphegor really didn't want to go through being villainized because of something like this again. He sighed. "Why are you here? Why do you want to be around me? I'm not good like you are. I'm . . . I can't even stay in the same room as you because I'd hurt you."

CUPID: "You don't have to take my word for it," she replied as she took a seat down by the door. She knew that with Belphegor actions spoke louder than words. Cupid could try her best to explain Michael's intentions to Bells until she was blue in the face, but Bells wouldn't understand until they saw it for themselves. Hell, even after seeing it, there was still a chance that the void would twist the situation into something negative again. "But if there's one thing I do know it's love. And I can see that your siblings love you a lot. They love Aamon too, but loving someone doesn't give them a free pass to do terrible things to other people that you love," she replied. "Aamon didn't just hurt a magician you never met and a hitman you don't care about. He hurt me and he hurt Charlie too." Cupid wasn't an archangel, but she was still older than a lot of the other angels in Heaven. After the creation of the Archangels, the angels of love and death were created. She supposed that's why she and Azrael didn't take the Archangel's crap like the other angels did. They were almost as old as the Archangels themselves. "I yelled at Michael because I was upset. I knew he and Lucifer were going to have a meeting, but I didn't know that was going to happen." While she agreed with Michael and Lucifer with regard to punishing Aamon, they didn't need to be so severe about it. Granted, she knew any punishment of Aamon would've upset Bells, but this one in particular opened old wounds. Michael and Lucifer knew that much too given how many precautions they'd taken to ensure the safety of everyone at the meeting. "Heaven isn't home, Bells. It hasn't been for a long time." Michael never doubted Cupid's allegiance to Heaven, but he knew how she felt about returning there. She'd largely avoided the place unless she was summoned up there by one of the Archangels. "Home isn't heaven or hell, it's you." She could even make Hell feel like home as long as Bells was there with her.

Cupid jumped back a little as Bells slammed their fists into the wall. She could hear the plaster breaking, but the warding stayed in place. “He’s hurt and he’s let that hurt fester and fester until it became venom that he can throw at people. Those people don’t even need to be mean to him. They just need to be an inconvenience. You know Aamon and I don’t get along, but Bells I’ve never been mean to him.” Sure, Cupid had been somewhat of a foil to Aamon’s cruelty, but she was never mean to him. Even during the gala, her primary job had been setting the crowd down. She never went directly after the Demon Prince. “But he still hurt me. And Charlie? You know she doesn’t work for Heaven or Hell. She was doing her job and when she wouldn’t do what he wanted, he hurt her too. He was reckless, Bells.” She could hear Bells crying now and it broke her heart. Aamon had gotten exactly what he wanted with his escalating behavior. He’d created a rift between the sibling again. “Bells this wasn’t your fault,” she reassured him. Her expression softened as he challenged her. “I’m here because I care about you. I’d like to think if the tables were turned and I was the one hurt, you’d do the same for me because that’s what friends do for each other,” she replied. “You were there for me when Aamon hurt me and now I’m here for you. Michael didn’t tell me much. I didn’t really give him a chance to get a word in edge wise between my colorful language and threats to make his love life miserable, so how about you tell me what happened?” she suggested.

BELPHEGOR: "It's not your word that I'm struggling to believe," he clarified. He believed that she believed what she was saying. He might've been doubting the truth from almost everyone, but it was hard not to trust her for long periods of time. "Just theirs." Michael had fought against them once, which was already hard enough, but the fact that Belphegor had forgiven him after he apologized only for the same thing to happen again just made it ten times worse. It wasn't easy forgiving him, and they didn't know if they would be able to forgive him again this time. Even his anger towards Lucifer wasn't as bad compared to how it was with Michael, and Lucifer was the one who actually banished Aamon in the first place. Of course, Lucifer, unlike Michael, was there for Belphegor a lot through the bad times. He did a lot for them, and Belphegor felt like it was more Michael's fault that Lucifer had to do anything to punish Aamon in the first place. That didn't absolve Lucifer of the anger Belphegor felt towards him and what he did. It just turned part of that anger towards Michael. "And we both know I'm pretty lacking in that subject." Belphegor's inability to understand love made it harder for him to see the ways in which the people around him cared for and loved him, and it made it easier for the void to make Belphegor feel even more alone in the world even when he was around people who loved him. "Right," Belphegor could agree with that much, though he didn't catch what she was trying to say exactly. "That's why I'm not giving them a free pass for banishing Aamon." He didn't think he'd given Aamon a free pass either exactly for what happened with Cupid. Belphegor hurt Aamon's friend too after all. "Charlie?" he asked, turning to face the door as if he might see her through it. "What do you mean he hurt Charlie too?"

In an odd way, it warmed Belphegor's heart to hear that Cupid had been upset about what happened with Aamon too. He felt a little less like it was just him against the rest of the world. "I think literally everyone in that room knew exactly what was going to happen except for me." Most of the time, Belphegor didn't mind to be out of the loop on what happened in their meetings, but it was different when they were banishing one of their siblings. The void's grip on Belphegor loosened just slightly as Cupid explained her version of home. Belphegor felt his chest lighten, and he smiled just a little. "Really?" he asked, a choked up laugh escaping him. "I guess that makes sense, because I relate home to you too." There was no real chance for him to return to Heaven, and while Hell was better for Belphegor since he could rule over his own kingdom, it was still Hell. Cupid, unlike both places, made Belphegor feel safe and comfortable, and even happier sometimes. He wondered if that was one of those love things she often told him about. Now wasn't the time to ask about that though. He could accept that Aamon was hurt. They all were. "No one really ever taught us how to deal with this kind of pain." Before the fall, they weren't really exposed to it, so it was no wonder that none of them really seemed to handle things correctly. Any kind of good example they might have had was gone from their lives. It didn't excuse their behavior really, but Belphegor felt like maybe if people just handled them differently, things wouldn't end up so bad. "Expecting the worst of someone is still pretty mean," he pointed out. Cupid and Belphegor might not have been especially mean exactly when they stopped Aamon from hurting that crowd, but they'd only followed him and War because they thought the pair was going to do something bad. Cupid's thoughts had been right of course, but it didn't just cancel out that she thought Aamon was going to cause trouble without evidence.

"I guess I just didn't know all of the things he was doing wrong." He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head on his knees. It was one thing for Aamon to hurt some random magician, especially if he knew it would make Michael mad. After what happened at Lux, Belphegor could understand the urge to want to get back at him, but he didn't need to go after Charlie. If Aamon were still here, Belphegor would've told him off for it. He wouldn't have tried to get him banished either because unlike some people, he wasn't like his father. Cupid's words were reassuring. It almost felt like she was holding him close just from her tone alone. He closed his eyes and just tried to imagine her there in the room with him. "Maybe not completely, but I could've done something." He sighed. "Of course I would." He said, lifting his head up. "I'll always be there for you as long as I'm alive," he promised her. He couldn't promise to always be there. Even archangels could die, and unlike some people, he didn't want to make a promise he might break. Belphegor bit his lip, struggling to figure out how much he could say without completely breaking down again. The wardings in his room would keep her safe from his powers, but they didn't protect her from what he might say. Some of it might not have even been true just because it was how Belphegor saw it all. "Lucifer locked us all in a room at Lux. Aamon told me that he forgave me for snapping at him at the gala because we're family." If only the rest of their family could have seen things the same way. "Lucifer put some pictures on the table. I thought they might've . . . I don't know. It's stupid." Belphegor was so dumb to think any of their family get-togethers could ever be anything but a bad experience. "Lucifer said it was a trial, but it was pretty obvious after that that everything had already been decided. He was just using Aamon as an example to try to keep the rest of us in line."

"Lucifer said that Aamon was accused of killing some magician, putting a hit on Zatanna's old boyfriend who conveniently isn't even around now, and . . . for what happened with you." He paused for a long moment before he decided to just blatantly ask her, "Did you tell them?"

CUPID: Sometimes she wished she was as powerful as the Archangels. If she were, she could extend her power to get Belphegor to see what she saw when she took the time to analyze the connections between others. But alas she couldn’t make them see love the way she saw it. “Michael knows he’s got a lot of work ahead of him,” she replied softly. Love came in colors for Cupid. Storge, or familial love, was a beautiful sunflower yellow color. Michael aura shone yellow like sunshine when he spoke about his siblings, both the Archangels and the Demon Princes. He loved them and Cupid firmly believed he wasn’t going to give up on them. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him, but when things are a little calmer, will you at least give him a chance to explain himself?” she asked. She smiled softly when he said understanding love wasn’t his strong suit. She knew that well enough given how long she’d loved him without him seeing it. She knew he loved her too and that was all that mattered to her. Some days, she thought it might be better he didn’t fully comprehend the way she loved him. If either of them ever acted on it, Cupid would lose her grace. She danced a fine line now as it were. “You’ve made progress, Bells,” she reassured him. Forgiving Michael the first time around had been progress. He’d taken a step toward healing the hurt the war had left behind. The banishment was a hiccup in that progress but she wanted to believe they would get back on track again one day. Not for Michael’s sake but for Belphegor’s sake. Forgiving one another was an important step in healing the hurt left behind by an unloving and vengeful Father. She was sure God would never acknowledge the wrongs he committed, but Michael was bigger than that. Michael knew his hubris and he owned up to it.

She could hear concern in his voice when he asked what Aamon had done to Charlie. “Charlie was the magician’s assigned reaper. When Aamon killed her, Charlie showed up to collect the soul and take her to Heaven. Aamon demanded that Charlie take the soul to his Kingdom in Hell. When Charlie refused, he pushed his power into her like he did to me. Except she’s not an angel, she’s just a transformed human soul.” Charlie’s hand had been bandaged up the last time Cupid saw her. She was having a hard time healing from where Aamon pushed his power into her. “The man that killed Charlie, her ex-fiancé, is in Aamon’s kingdom too. He threatened to release him if she didn’t do as he said. He’s playing a dangerous game, Bells. It’s one thing to indirectly have a go at Michael, but you know how Azrael feels about their reapers.” Banishment was mild compared to soul starvation. Azrael couldn’t necessarily kill an Archangel, but she could starve them of power by ferrying souls elsewhere.

“I’m sorry they made you go in there blind. I didn’t know they were going to do that either,” Cupid acknowledged. She knew most of the time Bells didn’t mind being left out of things, but they could’ve prepared them better for this. The others all had a few days to mentally prepare for this, but for Bells it was entirely new. Sure, any way the Archangels did it, Bells would’ve been upset. But the outpouring of emotion might not have been as big if they prepped her. She also knew there was a risk that if Bells knew before hand, they would tell Aamon, but Cupid was pretty sure even Aamon knew what the meeting was going to be about. He’d crafted things to play out this way after all. She felt her heart flutter despite herself when Bells mentioned that he related home to her. She knew this, of course, but it felt good to hear. It was like his way of saying I love you even if he didn’t know it. “How we relate home to each other, that’s how Michael, Levi, and Lucifer relate home too,” she explained. “Zatanna, Rachel, and Chloe are the people that make the feel the most at home.” “This is all new to everyone,” she nodded. She couldn’t remember the last time this many Archangels and Demon Princes were in one city trying to live cohesively. They largely avoided each other because it was easier. Although coming together like this had been difficult for them, it was progress. There was communication, granted not very good communication, but at least they were talking to one another. That was one of the first steps to healing. “In my defense, history has taught me a few lessons about Aamon.” Had Aamon left the gala on his own, Cupid would’ve let him be. But he left with War. History had shown that he and War were very bad for each other. “It’s not that I don’t trust Aamon, I just don’t trust him with War. Some people bring out the worst in each other.”

She felt herself relax a little as Bells tone became softer and less angry. Cupid nodded when Bells said he felt like he could’ve done something. She knew what that felt like. She’d spent many nights wondering how different things could’ve been if she’d just told Lucifer about Aamon and War leaving together instead of following them. Lucifer might’ve intervened. She’d seen the King of Hell talk his brother down before. Maybe he could’ve talked Aamon down from not just the rioting, but the planned homicide too. If Aamon had just stayed away from the magician he would still be allowed on earth. Lucifer was fine with the Princes causing havoc just about anywhere else except New York. “We can’t change what happened, but we can ensure it doesn’t happen again,” Cupid offered. She didn’t think anyone would step out of line again, but if they did, they could intervene before it got this bad again.

She felt herself choke up a little when he said that he would always be there for her. “I know you will, Bells,” she replied, fighting back the intense emotions that waved through her. “Even when I do stupid shit like pick fights with people who are bigger than me.” She had no doubt that he would try to always be there for her. Bells never told Cupid no; he always backed her up. She worried sometimes that the void would take him from her. She didn’t like sleeping when she knew Bells was upset because she was plagued by nightmares of finding he’d plunged his Archangel blade into his chest and just ended it. She couldn’t imagine her life without them. What became of love when all hope was lost? Cupid knew if the void took Bells it would take her heart too. She nodded as she listened to Bells describe what had gone down at the meeting from his own point of view. “They asked,” she acknowledged. Both Lucifer and Michael had come around asking. “I didn’t give them much, but it you know my face…I can’t do the poker face thing that Michael does. They were across the street when it all went down. Aamon and War’s powers were strong that night, your power left a mark on the crowd and the nearby buildings, and traces of my magic were found among the crowd. It wasn’t hard for them to put two and two together. Michael told me not to do it again. I think—I think he wanted to give me a hug but he’s not good with emotion.” Michael had just come back from the crime scene when he questioned Cupid about the gala. She knew the memory of Tracy’s body was fresh on his mind and he knew what Aamon could’ve done to Cupid if Bells hadn’t been there. “He was glad you were there to keep me safe from Aamon.”

BELPHEGOR: He scoffed. Michael having a lot of work ahead of him was an understatement. Even without having to work on fixing the mistakes he made in the past, he still had a lot of work ruling over Heaven. Somehow, he couldn’t see Michael wanting to prioritize the former at all. Logically, it made more sense for Michael to focus on Heaven’s problems than on Hell’s anyways, regardless of the fact that Hell consisted of so many of his siblings. Right now, Belphegor didn’t want to so much as see Michael, let alone talk to him, but it was obvious that Cupid knew that. Belphegor didn’t know if things would really get calmer. The Void was the largest it had been in a while. It was loud and painful, reminding him of the pain he’d been through before because of Michael and his armies. Staying calm long enough to talk to him wouldn’t be easy anytime soon. “Maybe,” he said, not wanting to go so far as to promise he’d give him that chance, but maybe was on the table at least. “Maybe he can wait as long as Aamon has to.” Belphegor didn’t know if they would actually stick to that. They doubted their absence in Michael’s life would make a difference anyways, but spite was a powerful thing.

“Not enough,” he sighed. It didn’t matter whether that was referring to understanding love or to the progress he had made with Michael. Neither of them were enough. He didn’t understand love enough to be able to really carry on conversations about it well with Cupid. He imagined that his lack of understanding was probably annoying to her, but for whatever reason, she still tried with him. She didn’t give up. It was kind of inspiring, especially when he dealt with the weight of wanting to just give up all the time. The progress he’d made with Michael wasn’t enough as evidenced by the step they took backwards. It felt like that progress not only didn’t even matter anymore, but it also made things feel even worse than before. It was hard to even think about trusting him anymore when that trust had been so deeply broken all over again. It was fresh, and it was painful. It wasn’t going to heal easily.

Belphegor bit his lip, holding in a breath while Cupid explained what had happened to Charlie. If he bit any harder, he might’ve drawn blood. Thinking about Aamon doing something like that to Charlie hurt nearly as bad and set his heart racing nearly as much as it had when Aamon was hurting Cupid. The difference was that Belphegor wasn’t there to help her like he did with Cupid, and she would’ve needed that help even more than Cupid had. Charlie was Belphegor’s favorite reaper. She seemed to understand him better than even Cupid at times to the point where it felt like she read his mind sometimes. That level of understanding allowed her to help him in some of his darkest times, and although she wasn’t an archangel, he still regarded her as family, even going so far as to use her last name sometimes. Like Lucifer had been before Aamon’s banishment, Charlie was someone who Belphegor looked up to. Knowing that Aamon had hurt her made him want to stick around her even more, both to ensure her safety and because it would help him learn how to be more like her. It would be better to be more like her and less like Lucifer currently was anyways. She wasn’t a complete wreck like he was now. “You said Charlie was going to come with pizza, right?” he asked hopefully. He’d talked with her before after his fight with War, but he’d been too focused on his own problems to notice if she’d been hurt or not. He wasn’t a good friend, but he wanted to do better. He wanted to at least hear her voice to know she was okay. He probably couldn’t even do anything for her at this point besides just assuring her that he’d be there for her. He couldn’t exactly leave this room without hurting someone. It was probably his own selfish needs that made him want to see her safe and unharmed anyways.

Regardless, Cupid was right that banishment was mild compared to what Azrael could’ve done in retaliation, but that didn’t exactly make him feel better about the fact that Aamon had to be banished at all. Just because there were worse options didn’t mean there weren’t still better options too. “Do you think he’ll try to take it out on her once he gets back?” Belphegor asked nervously. He didn’t want his brother to hurt any more of his friends, but at least he’d have a long time to try to talk him out of it if it came down to it. There was a broken piece of furniture on the ground, a small piece of wood. Belphegor picked it up and started to draw patterns in the debris that resulted from his explosion of power the night of the banishment. “I felt . . . lonely. Everyone knew but me, and I was so alone. The outside of me felt like it was on fire, but inside, it was so cold. Now, it’s just empty. Nothing.” Even when he shouted and got angry, it just felt like there was nothing inside of him. An absence of heat. An absence of cold. He could drown in the amount of nothing he was filled with. Cupid was his only lifeline right now. There was a door between them, but even so, she made him feel less lonely. “I can’t imagine any of them could make my brothers feel the way I do when I’m with you. I’ve known you almost my whole life. None of them could ever understand what my brothers and I have been through like you do. You being around for so long has helped shape me into who I am. I’m better than I could’ve been because of you. How could they possibly feel something like that with such short lifespans?” Admittedly, Cupid had always felt like home to Belphegor, but it still seemed different to him. She was more special than to be compared to anyone else.

Setting the piece of wood down, Belphegor leaned back against the door. “I thought he was happier with her.” To Belphegor, who struggled against his own depression, happiness was important, and he wanted his brothers to all find happiness. He thought for a moment, frowning as thoughts crossed his mind. “And we should keep people apart if they bring out the worst in each other?” he asked. He felt like a lot of his siblings seemed to be with people who brought out the worst in them if they were willing to banish their own family for them, but most of them seemed to make them happy too. It was confusing. Lucifer and Chloe had looked happy together at the gala, but at Lux, she seemed to want nothing to do with him. Belphegor felt the same way currently. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to have anything to do with Lucifer, but he thought that people who loved each other were supposed to stick together. She didn’t seem too happy about him anymore. He didn’t really see what happened with Zatanna or Rachel after he ran out, but he doubted they were all that happy either. After all, Zatanna had to have seen how Michael was a liar and an asshole, and Rachel, well, there actually wasn’t much bad he could say about her relationship with Levi. He was still sure there’d be something wrong there though. How could there not be something wrong when you were dating an archangel. They all had issues. “I think I bring out the worst in myself,” he admitted. His own thoughts seemed to hurt him the most. “But I think you bring out whatever good I have in me. I guess that’s the best in me.”

Belphegor turned around and let his forehead press against the door. “How do we ensure that?” he asked quietly, thinking more about preventing the banishment than he did about the events that might lead up to it. He felt like if they banished anyone else at this point, it would be him. He’d snapped at all of them after all. Maybe they’d be looking for an excuse to banish him, even if Cupid had already told him that they weren’t. “Are you okay?” He asked, concerned as he heard her choking up. He stood up, trying to look through the door’s peephole to see if she was alright, but she was too low for him to see her. He couldn’t really do anything for her if she was actually in trouble anyways. His powers would’ve probably hurt her more than if he’d just left her alone. “Well, if you tried to pick fights with people who are smaller than you, you’d have a pretty limited selection, and then we wouldn’t have nearly as many adventures together.” It wasn’t really meant to come out as a joke, but it ended up sounding like one. He didn’t mind that she picked fights. “But I’ll be glad to be by your side no matter who you pick fights with.” He couldn’t say that they’d always win those fights, but it was better than being alone through it. “They’re jerks,” he stated bluntly, feeling like it wasn’t fair of them to take advantage of the fact that Cupid couldn’t lie very well. Belphegor huffed as she told him how glad Michael was that he had kept her safe. “I did it for you, not for him.”

CUPID: She nodded slowly as Bells said that they were maybe open to talking to Michael in the future. She would take maybe. It was better than no. “That’s a good place to start,” she replied. She wasn’t so much concerned that Bells wanted Michael’s punishment to last as long as Aamon’s. She knew Bells didn’t have it in them to hold a grudge for that long, particularly being in the same city as Michael. It was a lot of effort to stay angry for 3 millennia. They would be angry for maybe the next 100 or 200 years but that was a blink of an eye for entities that lived for thousands and thousands of years. “We’ll cross that bridge when you’re ready,” she promised. She would be there to help them bridge the gap. “As long as you’re still here with me it’s always enough, Bells,” she replied reassuringly. While they might’ve thought their lack of understanding regarding Cupid’s domain was annoying to her, she found it endearing. Each time they made small progresses in understanding love the way she saw it, she felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in Bells. Whether they saw it or not, they had made progress in understanding love. Once upon a time, Bells wasn’t even able to verbalize how Cupid made them feel, but now? They were able to equate her with the feeling of home. She was someone that made them feel safe and secure. Whether Bells knew it or not, that was what love felt like.

She could hear the concern in Belphegor’s voice as they asked about Charlie. Bells, Cupid, and Charlie were like the three amigos. They sometimes joked about being Charlie’s Angels. Cupid knew they cared a great deal about the reaper. Although Belphegor could forgive Aamon for what he’d done to Zatanna’s people, it was harder for them to forgive Aamon for having hurt a friend close to them. Especially someone like Charlie. She never carried an ounce of judgement toward anyone, not even Aamon. On the contrary, prior to this she and Aamon had a pretty solid relationship. His kingdom carried the soul of the man that killed Charlie and he’d seen to it that that man was punished accordingly. But then Charlie became an inconvenience to him. And he did what he always did when someone inconvenienced him, he threatened and harmed her. “She’ll be here after work,” Cupid nodded. “I talked to her on the phone before coming here. She sounded okay,” she reassured Bells. “She said Lucifer healed the damage Aamon did to her and he’s having Will transferred to another kingdom so that Aamon can’t send him after Charlie.” She bit her lip and pondered Bells question for a moment. Did she think Aamon would retaliate against Charlie after his punishment was over? “I would hope 3 thousand years is a long enough time out for him to cool down. It would be unwise for him to try to harm her or any one of the reapers again.” Cupid knew that if Aamon went after Charlie again, it wouldn’t be to threaten her. It would be to kill her.

Her heart ached for Bells when they said that the banishment made them feel so alone and out of the loop and now they felt empty. Cupid wanted to hold them and make them feel whole again. For a moment, her hand hovered on the door handle as she debated opening the door and walking in, but her hand dropped when she realized how selfish that was. If Belphegor’s powers unintentionally hurt her, they would have to live with that. She couldn’t do that to them. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, but I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “You don’t have to feel alone again. I’ll stay here as long as you want me here.” She felt her breath hitch as Bells described how they felt about her. It was moments like this where she thought that maybe, just maybe, they were getting it. “They don’t have the kind of time that we have and they likely never will,” Cupid acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other just as fiercely as we do. There’s a reason God created me and Azrael after he made you guys. Death reminds people why it’s important to have love in their lives. Just because those loved ones will eventually die doesn’t make them any less important to you. Even death doesn’t stop love.”

She leaned her head against the door and for a moment she thought she could feel Belphegor right beside her. She knew the sigils prevented that, but it didn’t matter. Somewhere deep down she knew Belphegor was leaning in the same spot where her head rested now. “Aamon projects happiness well, but I don’t think he’s truly been happy since he was cast out of Heaven,” she replied. “Certain people have brought him temporary happiness, but nothing ever sticks. That’s not to say people aren’t allowed to be unhappy at given points in their relationship, but usually when they are unhappy the person that they identify as their home is able to bring them out of that. With Aamon...he’s never found that person.” She felt bad for Aamon in a way. He was an angel without a home. The figurative hole in his chest was almost as big as Belphegor’s void, but Belphegor had Cupid to keep it at bay. Aamon didn’t have anyone. He didn’t have a home. Cupid closed her eyes, her fingers tracing the features of Belphegor’s face on the door from memory. “It won’t be easy,” she agreed when they asked her how they could keep this from happening again. “If we see something, we need to say something. Either to each other or to one of your brothers. Aamon was escalating long before he hurt me at the gala and long before he killed that girl at the pub. You tried to warn him at the gala not to be so reckless, but he didn’t listen. We’ll just have to keep an eye out and make sure the others don’t follow in his footsteps.”

She wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath before answering Bells. “I’m okay. I just get sad sometimes and scared that I’m going to lose you, but if you promise you’ll be here then I believe you.” And she did believe them. She had to believe them because she couldn’t live with the alternative. She couldn’t live with the idea of the void winning and taking them from her. She laughed despite herself when they called her short. “You’re right. If I fought people my own size, I might be limited to just fifth graders and leprechauns. Neither of which are worth the energy. I’m just happy to have you in my corner.” She smiled and shook her head when Bells called Michael and Lucifer jerks. “They’re...complicated. I don’t envy either of them. I have my duties to Heaven and humanity and you have your duties to Hell, but that pales in comparison to what they have on their plates. They’re doing the best that they can and sometimes they mess up. No one really left an instruction manual for this sort of thing.”

BELPHEGOR: He didn’t really consider it that much of a starting point. It was only plans for maybe having a starting point and that was it, but it was as much as he could do right now. Everything was still so fresh in his head now, and realistically, once some time passed, whether it was a few days, a few years, or a few centuries, it would be harder for Belphegor to hold that kind of grudge. It especially made it harder to hold a grudge when the person was around more. In Hell, they didn’t see much of Michael, and while Belphegor didn’t often seek him out up here either, the chances of seeing him here were bigger. The more they saw him, the harder it would be to stay mad. No matter how much Belphegor might have argued that they wanted to be alone sometimes when they were sad, they actually just craved company and to be loved. Their powers made that difficult though. Anyone who was around them when they were sad risked being hurt. Being alone wasn’t so much as a preference as it was a necessity, and they hated it. Cupid’s words had a way of softening everything, no matter what it was, and this time wasn’t any different. Although it didn’t fix everything, it made things easier to deal with. The weight in their chest felt a little lighter with her words of reassurance, and Belphegor could almost believe that what she said was the truth. Maybe she was right. “Maybe it is.” Maybe it would always be enough for her as long as he was still here with her, and maybe, the same was true in regards to him too. After all, if she hadn’t come here, Belphegor surely would have spiralled deeper and deeper within their own head. The Void would’ve spoken dark truths and painful lies, twisting them in any way to make Belphegor just give up. They might have won if Cupid hadn’t shown up.

It was a relief to hear that Charlie would be coming here, and even more so to hear that Lucifer had healed her and that Charlie tormentor wouldn’t be in Aamon’s hands to be able to hurt her again. It didn’t completely redeem Lucifer of the anger and hurt Belphegor felt towards him, but it helped. The only issue was knowing that even when Charlie came, Belphegor couldn’t really see her. Just like Cupid, she would’ve had to remain outside the door just so their powers wouldn’t hurt her. She’d been hurt by Aamon enough, and seeing her after knowing that would probably put Belphegor in tears again. It wasn’t a good environment for her, even if Belphegor longed to see his friend okay again. “Will you give her a hug for me when she gets here?” he asked, since he couldn’t do that himself. Belphegor frowned, hearing Cupid’s explanation for why she thought Aamon wouldn’t go after her after the banishment ended. Although Belphegor had been upset about such a long punishment for Aamon, in the end, a thousand years could pass quickly, and Aamon was the type to hold a grudge. It’s not like all their siblings had completely forgiven Michael, and they doubted that any of them could forgive their father. Belphegor himself probably wasn’t even capable of it, but Aamon really didn’t forgive and forget easily. “It wasn’t exactly wise for him to hurt her in the first place either,” they muttered. “I’m not putting anything past him.” Belphegor still loved their brother. They would’ve done a lot to protect him from harm or from getting in trouble, but Charlie was just as important, if not more so. When the time would come for Aamon’s banishment to end, Belphegor would do everything within their power to protect Charlie from him.

“It’s a good thing you weren’t there,” Belphegor reassured her. No matter how they had felt, how lonely and broken and scared, if Cupid had been there, they would’ve hurt her. It would’ve made things worse. Belphegor would’ve felt so guilty, and they wouldn’t have been able to forgive themself. Cupid might not even be here now if she’d been in that room with them. Maybe she wouldn’t have been upset with Belphegor, but she would’ve needed more time to recover from it. Belphegor probably wouldn’t have even answered the door if she did come. It was just better overall that she wasn’t there, just so she could be here now to make things just a little bit better. They wanted to believe her, that they didn’t have to be alone again, but the voice in their head told them otherwise. That’s a lie, it said. She can’t stay here with you forever, even if she wanted to. You’ll always end up alone. Belphegor sighed, knowing that that voice was right. Cupid had her duties, and in the end Belphegor was just a fallen angel. She was important to the world, and Belphegor would just weigh her down. “I’ll always want you here,” they admitted. They were just selfish enough not to push her away. They wanted to keep her close for as long as they could.

“That sucks for them then,” they shrugged, not really caring much about the lifespan of humans. They really didn’t think those people could truly understand. Of course, Belphegor himself didn’t fully understand, but that was different. It was better for him to not understand. If he did, everything would hurt just a little more knowing that his own love would only bring about more pain both for himself and for Cupid. Sometimes it was better to be in the dark. “I try not to think about Dad’s reasonings anymore.” They shook their head. They didn’t want to think about why God did anything when one of the biggest things he did was leave them behind after sending them all to Hell, and with him gone, Belphegor and his siblings had no chance to come back home. “But I’m glad he made you regardless. I still don’t really get what you mean though,” they admitted. How could death not stop love? They even had it in their wedding stuff they made. Til Death do us part and all that. Belphegor nodded, not that Cupid could see it. “Me too,” they agreed. There had been times where they thought they were about to achieve happiness, but then that voice in their head always stepped in to remind them how pointless trying to reach happiness was. It wouldn’t last. They were just faking being happy to make everyone else happy. How could they be happy when others were suffering. Those kinds of thoughts always plagued them, and they could never be rid of them, but Cupid sounded like exactly the kind of person she was describing. “He’s never had a you then?” he asked, trying his best to understand. “Do you think that’s why he doesn’t like you? Because he’s never found someone like you for himself?”

Belphegor laid down completely, back against the floor. It was just easier like this. They just closed their eyes and listened to the sound of her voice. They didn’t really like that kind of idea. It was one thing to watch out for what their brothers were doing, but they worried that saying something would just get them in more trouble. “If I tell on them, then it’ll be my fault for whatever they get punished with.” Belphegor wasn’t a snitch. Belphegor understood that feeling. They were almost always sad and scared of losing the people they cared about, most of all Cupid. While their brothers couldn’t exactly escape their bond, Cupid worked for Heaven. There was always the chance that she realized how stupid it was to put in so much effort for Belphegor. Belphegor was grateful that she hadn’t realized that yet. “You’re not going to lose me,” they reassured her again. “I promise.” They couldn’t imagine choosing to be away from her anyways. “Charlie would be in that number too, and me sometimes if you want to fight us.” Belphegor couldn’t imagine actually fighting Cupid. Even during the war, Belphegor was pretty sure Michael and Lucifer made sure that they were never on the battlefield against each other. At most, they might’ve practiced fighting together. “Complicated doesn’t mean they’re any less of assholes,” Belphegor grumbled. They could stick their complicated up a sheep’s anus for all they cared. “Having a hard job doesn’t just automatically excuse what they do. We didn’t forgive dad, and now they’re acting just like him. Maybe they’ll just bail on us too.”

CUPID: She smiled to herself when she heard a familiar lightness in Belphegor’s voice again. The sorrow wasn’t completely gone and it wouldn’t be for quite some time. Grief was a spectrum. Bells would cycle between being okay and being triggered for the next few weeks, but they were resilient. And they had Cupid by their side. She couldn’t fix Aamon being gone, but she could at least be there for Bells so that they didn’t have to go through those feelings alone. She could hear the concern in Belphegor’s voice for Charlie. It warmed her heart to see them care so fiercely for someone. Bells was full of love even if they didn’t fully understand it. “Of course, I’ll give her some extra hugs for you. You’ll be able to see her in a couple days,” she reassured Bells. “It’ll get better, it always does. It just takes time. Lucky for us though we have all the time in the world.” Even if they couldn’t physically see Bells face-to-face, Cupid and Charlie wouldn’t let them feel alone. Someone would always be by the door until Bells felt that it was safe enough for them to leave the apartment.

Cupid nodded when Bells replied that they wouldn’t put it past Aamon to come after Charlie when he was released. Truth be told, she wouldn’t either. While she was proud of Charlie for standing up for herself, she’d made a powerful enemy in Aamon. “I’m sure when he’s released it’ll be like a probation type thing,” she replied. All eyes would be on the Demon Prince to make sure that he doesn’t retaliate. “You should probably stay away from Hell in the mean time. I dunno how accurate this is, but word around angel radio is that he’s making things tense down there.” She was thankful that Bells kingdom was at least far away from Aamon’s, but she didn’t want Bells to get dragged into anything. They were vulnerable and easily swayed when they were emotional like this and Aamon knew how to manipulate that to his advantage. It wouldn’t take much for him to spark the fire of anger and resentment that Bells carried toward the others in their current mental state.

She swallowed hard when Bells said that it was better she hadn’t been at the banishment. They weren’t wrong, but she still felt guilty about it. She wasn’t strong like the others. She couldn’t be in the room when Belphegor had those kinds of meltdowns because there was a greater chance that she would get hurt. But she could at least be there in the aftermath. That’s where they needed her the most anyway. She couldn’t have changed the outcome had she been at Lux. Aamon was going to be banished and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Cupid being there wouldn’t have changed the outcome. She smiled softly when Bells said that they would always want her here. “It’s nice to feel wanted,” she replied. She didn’t always feel wanted in Heaven. Sometimes, she felt like she was the problem child. There were so many rules and some of the angels were so uptight. She didn’t feel that way around Belphegor. They were always happy to see her. “You know I always want you here too. Things feel less scary and overwhelming when you’re around.”

She chuckled to herself when Bells retorted that they didn’t much care for the life span of humans. “Oh, come on now. There are plenty of humans that have been important to you. You remember Poe and Van Gogh. Oh! And Tennyson. I liked Tennyson.” The poet had written an entire ode to his lover whom death had taken. It was a beautiful ballot to both life and death. “When they passed away it was sad, yes, but it didn’t stop the love you had for them. Death can physically separate people but it can’t take away that feeling.” Sometimes the fact that love continued on even after death caused a great deal of grief and pain, but that didn’t mean that loving something that can die is a regrettable thing. Belgirel was gone, but she knew Belphegor never regretted a single moment of loving them even if it made accepting their death harder. “I think that’s a part of the reason Aamon doesn’t like me, but not the whole.” Cupid could admit that she pushed Aamon sometimes and that he found her annoying, but that wasn’t the only reason he held so much resentment toward her. “I think I sometimes remind him too much of Belgirel,” she admitted. Belgirel and Cupid were both had a sort of reckless optimism about them. “And when I do, it brings up all the old feelings for him again. And then he reacts how he always reacts when he feels something. He gets angry.”

Cupid knew Belphegor didn’t like the idea of telling on his siblings and she wasn’t going to force their hand. The others would find out eventually on their own. It was hard to keep secrets in that circle. The fact that the Empty managed to stay between Lucifer, Michael, Azrael, and herself alone was a miracle. “Honestly if the others get as obviously reckless as Aamon they won’t need anyone telling on them, but hopefully we get to them first before they escalate to that level.” She smiled and eased up against the door as Bells reassured her that she wouldn’t lose them. “I would never want to fight you and Charlie,” Cupid laughed. “I don’t think I have it in me.” She was glad they’d never crossed paths on the battlefield during the war. She could never turn her arrows in such a way to hurt Bells. “You’re right, it doesn’t absolve Michael or Lucifer of wrongdoing. But they are doing the best that they can, Bells. Sometimes they make mistakes but they care about people more than God ever did. For better or for worse, neither Michael or Lucifer are going to abandon ship anytime soon."

BELPHEGOR: “At least twelve hugs,” they told her. They felt like Charlie deserved a lot more hugs than that, but twelve was a good minimum of hugs that Belphegor would’ve given her themselves if they could. They didn’t want to wait a couple days to see Cupid and Charlie. For beings like them, time went by so fast anyways, but thinking about waiting was awful. They hated that they had to wait. They hated that they were like this, that just existing was dangerous to the people they cared about. What if it didn’t get better this time? What if they were stuck like this forever, just wrapped up in their own pain and self-loathing, never able to leave this room for fear of putting people like Cupid and Charlie in pain? “I don’t want it to take all the time in the world though,” they whimpered. “I just want it to stop.” You could make it stop, the Void whispered to them. Just one swift motion, and all of this could stop. You wouldn’t have to worry about your powers hurting Cupid or Charlie. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Your brothers couldn’t hurt you or send you away. You’d just cease to be. For a long moment, Belphegor considered that. It was incredibly tempting, and one of their blades was nearby, just in reach to where they could use it now if they wanted to. They barely would’ve even needed to lift a finger, and it would’ve been over, but as much as that might’ve made things easier for them, they’d told Cupid they wouldn’t leave her. They couldn’t break a promise like that, so they ignored those thoughts, pushing the blade away with their foot.

They sighed. “Maybe I can talk to him about it.” Even if Aamon was on probation after he was allowed out of Hell, Belphegor didn’t want to risk that he might still hold something against Charlie. They’d even offer up one of their favorite pillows if it meant that Charlie would be left alone. “Why would I need to stay away from Hell?” they asked. Even if Aamon was creating problems for the others, they didn’t think he’d do anything to them that would really be a problem. Aamon had told them that he wasn’t mad at them before he’d been banished. The way she said that it was nice to feel wanted was confusing. They knew that some of the other angels didn’t always approve of the things she did, especially the fact that she spent so much time with Belphegor, but they couldn’t imagine her not being wanted. Uriel and Raphael’s opinions were outliers and should’ve never been counted. Everyone wanted Cupid around. She was fun and happy and made you feel good about yourself even when you were at your worst. She did everything she could to keep everyone happy, even people she didn’t necessarily like sometimes. “Who wouldn’t want you?” they asked sincerely. “You’re amazing.” They didn’t actually know she always wanted them here, but it was nice to hear. It helped push some of the Void’s words back even more. “Only when I’m not like this,” they retorted. If it was overwhelming for Belphegor, they could only imagine how that might have affected Cupid. How many things did they do that must have terrified her or overwhelmed her whether it was because she was scared of Bells or scared for them?

“Yeah, some of them were important to me, but then they died, and it felt pointless. You blink and they stub their toe and fall off a cliff or something.” It was hard to feel connections to humans when you knew that they wouldn’t last. Belphegor had liked some of them a lot, and they’d been sad to see some of them go, though a lot of them ended up in Hell anyways. Those ones were nicer because Belphegor could still see them. The ones they like they tried to get transferred to their own kingdom, where they treated them well. “It didn’t stop how I felt about them, but it did make it feel wasted.” It had been a long time since Belphegor actually felt connected to another human like that, and part of that was just because they’d gotten tired of putting in the effort only to lose them. She was right that they didn’t really regret loving them though, but it was easier to pretend like they just wasted their time instead of thinking about the fact that they missed their old friends. Belphegor frowned when Cupid brought up Belgirel. They could understand why Aamon might’ve been reminded of him through her. Belphegor was often reminded of him too by her presence, only it had the opposite effect on them. Instead of feeling angry at old feelings, they felt warm and comforted by her presence. The only times they didn’t feel those ways was when Cupid was in danger and they panicked about losing someone so close to them again like they had at the night of that gala. “We all miss him,” Belphegor said quietly, believing themselves to be the one who missed him most, “but it’s no reason for him to hate you. He should just be glad you’re still around and make sure you do stay around.” They didn’t like to think of any of their other siblings doing what Aamon did. They didn’t want to have to go through any of this again. They didn’t know if they could. The thought of it alone made them feel weighed down and panicked. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.” They sighed.

“Me either,” Belphegor agreed. The only way they would’ve been able to harm Cupid was if something possessed their body. They couldn’t imagine it. Doing something like that would’ve broken them. “Wow, so they care about people more than the guy who never cared about any of us at all. Good for them. Really showing some initiative there,” they spoke bitterly. “How do you know they won’t?”

CUPID: "Twelve hugs it is then," she smiled. "Now are those to be doled out consecutively or at random?" She wanted to make sure she got the request down to the right specifications since it was important to Bells. "It won't be like this forever," Cupid promised. And it was true. This wasn't the first time Bells felt wounded like this, but they always bounced back. "Things will get better." They would get worse again too and then better. Such was the flow of life. This was just another hiccup, but it didn't have to last forever. She heard the sliding of a blade on the ground and sat up sharply. Her breath quickened and her chest ached but then she realized the blade was being pushed away from them not toward them. Cupid eased back against the door. "If you go to talk to him just...be careful, okay?" Aamon wasn't in a good spot right now. He was lethal; so was Belphegor technically, but Aamon was lethal in a different way. He was causing a ruckus in hell. And he didn't know about the void. Intentionally or unintentionally, there was a chance some of his actions down there could tip Bells over the line. She smiled when they said she was always wanted and welcomed. She could probably name a handful of people who disagreed, but that didn't matter as long as Bells wanted her around. "I'll always want you," she insisted. "Even when you're like this. Especially when you're like this." Moments like this were moments when they needed each other the most. While Cupid was the more optimistic of the two, that didn't mean she didn't get sad sometimes and need comfort too. Her sadness wasn't as deadly as Belphegor's but it put people, mostly humans, at risk sometimes. It created apathy among them which fueled destruction. Belphegor was the only one who understood Cupid when she was sad and stormy like that. It was rare that she got like that, but it happened every so often.

Cupid nodded in understanding when Bells said loving humans sometimes felt pointless to them. "Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch. A fearful thing to love, to hope, to dream, to be –" she recited. Truthfully, most of the humans they loved ended up in Hell where Cupid wasn't allowed to follow. For her, the goodbyes were finite. She had to make peace with never seeing them again, but that didn't mean she loved them any less. "Love is never wasted, but it does make grieving harder. The time they gave us, although very little in the end, was time well spent." They had nothing better to do at the time anyway than love the humans that inspired them. "We do all miss him," she agreed. "Just in different ways, I suppose." Would they ever find a way to cope with it? Maybe not. It wasn't just the loss of Belgirel, but also the heaviness of war and the sting of rejection from a Father that never cared about them. That loss compounded so many feelings. While she didn't agree with the way Aamon handled it; she understood. But understanding it didn't mean she would ever condone it. As Bells said, it was no reason to be filled with such hate at all the wrong people. She could understand Bell's indifference for Michael and Lucifer now, but she still believed in the two. Someone had to. "I have faith in them," she nodded staunchly. "Whether they prove me right or wrong remains to be seen, but I want to believe that they want to do better." She could hear the clicking of light feet on the floor up ahead and smiled. "Don't look now but I think our pizza is here. And Charlie too," she grinned. She poked her head out a little and saw Charlie coming up the staircase. "Olly Olly Oxen Free!" she called out.

CHARLIE: She didn't need Michael or Lucifer to tell her how bad things had gotten. She could see it, feel it. Over the last few days the void had been massive. The destruction after Lux alone kept the reapers busy for several days. Charlie could understand Bells sadness. Aamon was their brother and the whole banishment very much felt like a casting out similar to what God had done to them. But brother or not Aamon was not above reprimand. He stepped too far out of line and Charlie had the bruises to show for it. Lucifer had healed a majority of the damage; all that was left now was some discoloration on her wrist that would go away with time. She smiled when she heard Cupid call for her. "Oy oy oy!" Charlie called back. Cupid sounded like she was in good spirits which was a good sign. A happy Cupid meant that Bells was on the mend. The reaper turned the corner to find Cupid sitting outside of the door to Belphegor's apartment. She was wrapped in a variety of blankets. "I see you've made yourself comfortable." She grinned as she took a seat beside the angel. She placed the pizza box down and smiled before knocking on the door lightly. "How you doing, Bells?"

BELPHEGOR: "Consecutively," Belphegor nodded. They wanted the hugs to be as soon as possible since they'd gone so long without knowing about what had happened to her. "Until the next thing comes along," they pointed out. It seemed like something always came along that had them in positions like this, having to lock themselves away to keep the others safe from their meltdowns. No one else had this problem. Just them. They wished they could just stop it from happening again. "Okay?" they rose a brow. They didn't understand why they would need to be careful. Aamon wouldn't hurt them. He was their brother, and even if he was upset with Lucifer, Belphegor couldn't imagine him taking it out on them. "Why?" Wanting Belphegor around, especially when they were like this, made no sense. It couldn't benefit Cupid in any way. Belphegor knew it benefited them, but they couldn't see how it was good for her. "That doesn't make it easier," they pointed out. Most of the people that Belphegor liked were people that Cupid liked too. They tended to all spend time together, so regardless of where they went after they died, it was a loss to all of them. It wasn't the same, and Belphegor always felt sad when they lost someone because of it. "You have faith in everyone, Cupid," they pointed out. She always had a strong belief in just about everyone. She even believed in Aamon probably more than she should've. The frowned when she said that Charlie and the pizza were here. "I can't look," they pointed out. "There's a door here." There was a peephole in it, but it didn't give them much range to see out of it. "Still can't come out," they answered, which said about enough of their situation. Even if they'd worked through some of their problems, they still weren't feeling well enough to come out without endangering people. "Are you okay? Cupid told me what happened. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

CUPID: "Consecutively it is then," she smiled and nodded. That much she could do. "And when the next thing comes along I'll still be here," she promised. She would always be there. "It's not the ideal sleepover, but it's better than nothing." She could hear their confusion when she told them to be careful around Aamon. Bells often underestimated what Aamon was capable of because they were family, but if Aamon ever found out about the void he wouldn't hesitate to use it to his advantage. Their confusion was even more genuine when they asked Cupid why she would want to be around them, especially when they were like this. "Because you're my best friend and I love you. You wouldn't give up on me if I was in the pits," she pointed out. It didn't happen as often that she would get sad, but Cupid had her moments. And Bells stuck them through with her. Cupid smiled and fluffed her pillows and blanket as Charlie came into view. "What can I say? I'm here for the long haul," she nodded before standing up. She took the pizza out of Charlie's hands and placed it gingerly down before hugging the reaper a consecutive twelve times. She made sure to do it within view of the peep hole so Bells could see. "Those were from Bells," she replied as she took a seat back down on the ground and patted a spot beside her for Charlie to sit down too.

CHARLIE: She smiled as Cupid doled out twelve consecutive hugs from Belphegor. "Thank you, Bells," she smiled. "I have full faith that you'll be able to come out and hug us very soon," she nodded. Cupid was good at talking Bells down. They were already less agitated and angry than the housekeeping demons reported earlier. That didn't mean that Bells was anywhere near forgiving anyone, but at least they would be able to leave the confines of their room within the week if they continued to de-escalate like this. "I'm alright," Charlie promised them and it was the truth. She was feeling a lot better since Lucifer healed the damage Aamon did. "Some slight bruising but it will go away with time." She stood for a moment in view of the peephole so Bells would know that she wasn't lying. She was doing a lot better. She wasn't going to doddle on what Aamon did to her, she wasn't going to give him that kind of power over her. After a moment, she took a seat beside Cupid and threw one of the blankets over herself. This wasn't how she initially imagined their sleepover would go, but they always knew how to make the best out of a crappy situation. "So, what did I miss?" she grinned as she opened the pizza box and took a slice.

BELPHEGOR: It was weird to Belphegor that Cupid was so willing to stay by their side through all of this. Even with them being best friends, even with Belphegor ready to do the same for her, it seemed so strange. Why go through all the trouble for one person? "But when you're feeling down, it doesn't put me in danger like it does for you when I'm sad." It wouldn't have made a difference really if she did put them in danger. Belphegor would've still been there for her, but still, what she did for them said a lot more than anything Belphegor could do for her.

They smiled as Cupid stood up and hugged Charlie twelve times. A lot of people would've considered the request ridiculous, but Cupid always handled these things well. "I'd hug you myself if I could," they told her through the door. They looked carefully through the peephole to see if there really were still injuries, but it wasn't easy to see through that. It was still good enough for them, so they sat down against the door, grabbing one of their own blankets and wrapping it around themselves. "Not much. Cupid's just been trying to get me to calm down and forgive Michael and Lucifer." They weren't going to, but Cupid had tried her best.

CUPID: "No, it doesn't," she agreed. Sometimes she was glad for that. Sometimes her own sadness got so big that she worried if others could feel it they would get consumed by it too. Humans sometimes felt Cupid's sadness. It made them incredibly apathetic toward each other. Cupid never intended to do things like that, but that was simply the effect her sadness had on people. Bells sadness did that too, only it was amplified tenfold because they were stronger than cupid. "But I like having you here when I'm sad. You make it better." People often thought Bells and Cupid's relationship amounted to nothing but Cupid trying to fix Bells when they felt sad, but people didn't take into account how many times Bells picked Cupid up when she was feeling sad. They were too sides of the same coin and they needed each other. She smiled and shrugged, taking a slice of pizza and mouthing the words I tried to Charlie when Bells told her what they'd been talking about. Forgiving Michael and Lucifer was still a long ways away, but at least Bells was calmer now. That's all that mattered to Cupid.

CHARLIE: "You'll get to hug me very soon," she replied. "I can feel it in my bones." They were doing better than when they'd initially left Lux. The reapers were still cleaning up from that mess of suicides and car accidents. She couldn't help but laugh a little when Bells explained what she'd missed. Based on the tone of their voice, they were nowhere near forgiving either Michael or Lucifer, but it appeared Cupid made a valent effort to open them up to the possibility of forgiveness. "Sounds like I didn't miss much then," she joked and winked at Cupid as she made herself comfortable beside the angel. As much as talking about the issue helped, so did distractions. They couldn't exactly watch tv together like this so Charlie pulled out a couple books from her backpack. "I brought some stories to help pass the time," she smiled. She had a collection of both Cupid and Belphegor's favorite tales. "Any particular requests?"

BELPHEGOR: “I like being there when you're sad too.” Whenever they got to he there for her when she was sad, they felt like things were less one-sided. They liked being the person she leaned on too. “So do you have a hug tingle now too?” they asked Charlie, aiming for a joking tone,but it fell flat because they didn't believe her. “Did you bring any Shakespeare?” they asked hopefully. They'd always liked him as much as his writing, and he'd written a few things based on them.

CUPID: She smiled when Bells agreed that they liked being there for her. They couldn't always be there for her when she was sad because sometimes she had to keep her sad a secret. Sometimes she was sad because of the void and she couldn't tell them. And the fact that she couldn't tell them made that sadness worse sometimes, but she reminded herself it won't always be like this. "Shakespeare is nice," Cupid agreed as Charlie pulled out a few books. "If you see him in hell tell him I said hi," she grinned and got comfortable. This wasn't the ideal sleepover they wanted, but it was better than nothing.

CHARLIE: "A hug tingle?" she chuckled. "Only when there is a great need. Us reapers are an intuitive bunch." It helped that they could hear the void most of the time too, so they knew what Belphegor was thinking better than most people. "Ah, Mr. William Shakespeare. The only William I'll accept. Let's see..." she laid out the books. "From Shakespeare we have A Midsummer's Night Dream or Romeo and Juliet. Any preferences?"

BELPHEGOR: Belphegor could believe it. Charlie was always really good at guessing what they were thinking and knew how to respond to it accordingly. Belphegor made themselves more comfortable, propping their head up with a pillow while they cuddled a different one, and Charlie listed their options out to them. "Romeo and Juliet." They could relate Romeo and Juliet's friendship to the one they had with Cupid. Parts of the story made them sad and upset. They didn't like that the two friends had to die, but they could relate to the way they weren't allowed to be too close without their families judging them for it.

CUPID: She grabbed another pizza slice and nodded in agreement when Bells suggested Romeo and Juliet. "I like that one," she smiled. It was tragedy and comedy and romance all in one. Cupid could sympathize with the main protagonists and the way they had to keep their love a secret. For a long time after the war, Cupid still had to sneak about to see Bells. Until one day she just stopped caring about who caught on. To her dismay, Bells seemed to be the only one who didn't catch on, but she was sure they would get there eventually. There was no reason to rush that. They were immortal after all.

CHARLIE: She smiled to herself. She had a feeling they would both pick Romeo and Juliet. The story seemed to resonate with both of them even though it ended tragically for the two main characters. She hoped, when William wrote it, he wasn't alluding to a tragic ending for Cupid and Belphegor. There were reapers who believed Shakespeare possessed a bit of the shining in him. He could sense things, but he could rarely make sense of them. Charlie was too young to have known Shakespeare when he was alive, but running into him in hell she could believe he might've been more intuitive than most in his waking life. "Romeo and Juliet it is then," she smiled, placing the other books in her bag. She made herself comfortable and began reading aloud from the book.

BELPHEGOR: They listened quietly as Charlie read the story, letting themselves relax more. They still didn't feel like everything was resolved for them. The relationship they'd had with their family had fractured, and it would just take some time to heal. Even if Belphegor was upset with them now, they couldn't hold grudges for long. If they were able to forgive Michael for what he'd done before, this wasn't even nearly as bad. It'd be okay in the end. Belphegor had to hope for as much as they drifted off to sleep.

#bells: discords #charlie: discords #discord #━━ ♡ love lifts us up where we belong! all you need is love [ replies ]#━━ ♡ come rest your bones next to me & toss all your thoughts to the sea [ bells ]#━━ ♡ she greeted death like an old friend [ charlie ]

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hongism · 5 years ago

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finding beauty in your darkest places - chapter 6

Pairing: ot7 x reader for now

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 7643

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Note: please know that nothing in this story is meant to be a glamorization of any disorder, this is meant to be a real approach and depiction of these things, and i did a LOT of research prior to writing this about every disorder mentioned so that i was careful about what i wrote about each one. I am trying to be as knowledgeable as possible in terms of the content written within this story. I do not intend to glamorize any disorder within this story whatsoever.

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: thank you so so much Mari for helping me out with info and stuff, that helped so much uwu <3

Chapter:

5 | 6 | 7

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 6: Black Ink

The hum of the refrigerator continues. The sound burrows its way into Jungkook's system, filling the silence and the pit in his gut. The granite counter top is cool under his touch, and Jungkook draws meaningless patterns against the surface with his index finger as he listens to the sounds around him. You sit on his left, staring at the counter in a similar way, but you are motionless. Then one more seat over, Yoongi resides, one hand resting lightly on your lower back as he rubs small circles against the fabric of your white shirt.

If someone were to ask Jungkook how he arrived at this position — in the kitchen at five or six in the morning beside two fellow patients with a stony faced nurse a couple feet away — he isn't sure he would be able to explain. The lack of sleep and hectic nature of the past few hours has all but wiped his brain of any functioning thought aside from panic. Panic. Nothing new or foreign to Jungkook, yet this time, it bears a different nature than the panic he's so used to having reside in his system. For once, it's panic for a person other than himself. The man who came into the kitchen out of the blue, who spoke in such an odd and broken manner, and ended up collapsed on the floor. Jungkook believes that his brain stopped functioning properly in that moment, because since then, he has not been able to keep his mind in order long enough to remember anything.

Except, he does remember going to Yoongi's door and knocking with an immense amount of force, then nearly falling into the room when Yoongi opened the door. Once Jungkook was able to spew his explanation of what happened in the kitchen, Yoongi didn't ask anymore questions and simply said "I'll take care of it". I'll take care of it. Jungkook withdraws his hand from the counter. The only other thing he said to him before walking off was "Take Y/N back to her room. I'll come by when everything is settled".

So that's exactly what Jungkook did. Followed Yoongi back to the kitchen and watched as he had to physically tear you away from Hoseok. Yea, he remembers that. He doubts he's going to forget that scene any time soon.

"Please tell me you have cigarettes." Your voice is quiet, faint — almost weak if Jungkook were willing to attribute that word to you, but he can't say that he is. He looks up, passing his eyes over your form then to the nurse standing on the opposite side of the counter. Neither Jungkook or the nurse make any sort of comment on your plea; instead, it's Yoongi, which makes the most sense since you look at the man after speaking. A rush of air passing between his lips.

"That's not going to help you."

"I need them."

The nurse draws his lips into a thin line, and from where Jungkook is sitting, he can barely see the slight shake of his head, either in disbelief or disappointment from your claim.

"If anything, this is the most important time for me to have some."

"I don't have any," Yoongi mutters. He fidgets in his seat, hand falling away from your back. "Staff caught me with some last time, so they confiscated them. Why don't we go outside? Fresh air will do you more good than cigarettes." Yoongi stands, stool scraping against the tiles, and looks to the nurse. "Can we step outside for a bit?"

"Yea, that's fine."

Yoongi waits for you to stand up as well, then follows the nurse to the other side of the room. Jungkook remains rooted to his seat, unsure whether the invitation is extended to him as well, but he doesn't want to push his luck.

"Are you coming, kid?" Yoongi asks, and Jungkook swivels to look at the dark haired man at the other side of the room. Jungkook doesn't say anything but rushes over to where he's waiting by a door labeled 'stairs'.

"Thank you," he mumbles to Yoongi, who merely shakes his head. The nurse leads the way down a flight of stairs, and Jungkook likens the feeling of the area to something like an old parking garage — the stiff air, concrete smell, and cold atmosphere -- but it's over soon enough, and they're stepping out into the fresh air. When the smell of nature hits his nose, Jungkook almost has to take a step back as he realizes this is the first time in two weeks that he's been outside. Not that he hasn't had the opportunity to go outside, he definitely has, but he never did because he didn't want to risk someone seeing him playing basketball or sitting outside alone. That's weird and strange, isn't it? Something only a crazy person would do? And I'm not crazy. Jungkook kicks at a few stray pebbles on the concrete of the court, pressing his hands into his pockets.

You linger near the edge of the court, squinting at the sky that still bears thick clouds and leftover stars. The sun is barely beginning to creep up, although Jungkook can't see much of it thanks to the tall buildings all around, and the oranges and reds of sunrise bleed through the clouds.

"Do you have a pen I could borrow, Nurse Simon?"

Jungkook glances back at where you gently tug on the nurse's sleeve, and Yoongi does the same, only holding a much briefer stare before stepping across the court. The nurse digs around in the pockets across the front of his scrubs before pulling out a pen and passing it your way. You immediately stick the back of it in your mouth - a similar action to the one Jungkook saw you do the previous day when he was in your room.

"You play basketball, Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice disrupts his focus. Jungkook turns to the man, who now cradles a basketball under his left arm, and stutters to respond.

"Uh, I-I used to."

"Come on—" Yoongi motions for Jungkook to join him in the center of the court with his free hand "—let's play for a bit." The ball launches at his chest, and Jungkook barely has time to catch it, the force behind the object catching him off guard. He complies though and steps over to the middle of the court. What sort of game is he playing? He's never wanted to speak to me before, let alone interact with me… Jungkook eyes Yoongi, and the other man doesn't pick up on the wariness in his stance or eyes. Jungkook settles in anyways, dribbling the ball from hand to hand as he warms up to the idea of playing.

"What's going to happen with Hoseok?" he asks as he slides around Yoongi to head for the hoop.

"After I got Namjoon, we went to get a few nurses. They took him out on a gurney and said he'd be taken to a nearby hospital immediately. Namjoon asked to go with to make sure he got there safely and such." Yoongi darts in and slaps the ball out of Jungkook's hands while he's distracted looking up at the hoop, and Jungkook huffs in frustration.

"Why did they allow Namjoon to go along? He's just a patient like the rest of us."

"It's due to the fact that he's a "good" patient." Yoongi slides back, shooting for the hoop, but Jungkook hops up and pushes it away from the rim before it can dip in. "He's proven himself to do whatever he's told over time, and because of that, he gets more privileges. Besides, he's not considered one of the "dangerous" patients, so the staff isn't concerned about him snapping or blowing up at any time."

"Oh," Jungkook says as he makes a shot. "That makes sense." Yoongi stands back and watches the ball fall through the hoop. Jungkook watches him, catching the ball before it hits the court.

"Thanks for taking her back to her room earlier."

"It wasn't an issue. She didn't need to see that any longer that she had to." Jungkook shrugs, passing the ball over to Yoongi. Maybe there is a hint of a lie to his words, because it was hard to see you after what happened in the kitchen. After the lengthy and deep conversation he shared with you, after witnessing your interaction with Hoseok, and then seeing your reaction when Hoseok collapsed. That wasn't pleasant by any means, yet Jungkook was given a responsibility. He had to fulfill it.

"I should've been there. I should've known better."

"It's not your fault, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong, and it just happened to be bad timing."

"Bad timing doesn't mean shit when it comes to a place like this."

"Yoongi said he's going to take care of it."

"That doesn't change the fact that I fucked up."

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. Bits and pieces of the conversation he shared with you in your room trickle back into his mind, nothing happy or pleasant to remember.

"I told you, Jungkook. No matter how hard I try, I can't be a good person. Having good intentions doesn't mean shit if you can't live up to them."

"Yea, she didn't need to see any of it," Yoongi says after a moment. This is the longest we've ever talked…hell, it's the first time we've had a solid conversation. "What about you?"

"Huh?"

"How are you holding up?" Yoongi clarifies. "It probably wasn't easy witnessing that for the first time or seeing that sort of thing at all."

"I…I've seen some episodes like that at previous clinics I've been to, but the situations were always different. Nurses were always around to help control the situation and make sure everything was alright." Jungkook and Yoongi stand under the hoop, neither making an effort to play anymore. "It was disconcerting to witness firsthand, yea, but Y/N's reaction was more scary than Hoseok falling."

"That makes sense…" Yoongi shifts his attention to where you're standing at the edge of the court, pen still hanging out of your mouth like a cigarette. "She would never admit it, but that terrified her. I've seen her reaction to this sort of thing before, and it always leaves her shaken up for days. Sometimes I can't tell if she's really gotten over it or has just tried to push it to the side and act like everything is fine."

"If you had really had cigarettes, would you have given them to her?"

"Yes." Yoongi's answer comes without any hesitation whatsoever. "I know it won't help, and it's certainly not good for her in any way. I'm just doing what I can though. If that's the only thing I can do for her, then so be it. It would've been a bad idea no doubt. I can't say no to her though."

"You didn't even question the fact that she was out and about at night either," Jungkook mentions, and Yoongi turns back to him with a slight frown on his lips.

"I didn't need to know why. I don't need to know every little detail about what's going on in her life, to be honest. The things I do for her are enough, and I do them because I care about her. That's that."

"Is…is it the same the other way around?"

"You're drifting into dangerous territory, kid." Jungkook swallows at the warning, and he's almost certain that Yoongi can see the bob of his Adam's apple as he gulps down nothing but air.

"We were, uh, we were talking before Hoseok came by. Y/N and I, I mean. That's obvious though, sorry. But, she mentioned you…and she said the two of you have a good relationship now but it wasn't always that way." Jungkook isn't sure if he's making a good decision in the moment, he might be overstepping his bounds, but he feels that if he misses this opportunity now, it may never come again. Yoongi looks upwards, then passes the basketball back to Jungkook.

"I'm surprised she talked about that. She's not the most open person, although I'm sure you've noticed that. It's good that she's being open with people other than Namjoon and myself."

"What do you mean by that?"

"In all honesty, I can't help her," Yoongi states, tone flat. "The last time I really tried to help her, both of us got burned in a bad way. There's too much there — between us, on her side, on mine — for me to be able to do anything to help really, so I don't push my boundaries anymore. I blame it on our similarities. Since I can't help myself, there's no way I can help her." Jungkook glances over at you. You stare back, brows furrowed and knit so closely together that, from his distance, Jungkook can't see the skin between your brows anymore.

"And Namjoon?" He asks under his breath, gaze flitting away from your expression.

"Namjoon? Y/N and Namjoon are much closer than her and I are, but in a different way. I don't exactly know how to explain it because I don't wholly understand it. The two of them have some sort of unspoken agreement that I've never understood but it's been that way for as long as I can remember. They had that agreement before I arrived and started talking to them though." Yoongi got here after both of them? Then maybe…I thought perhaps Yoongi was one of the ones who's been here the longest, but that proves me wrong.

"She mentioned something about a "different kind of trust" before."

Yoongi breaks into a bout of laughter at Jungkook's words, the gums of his mouth showing as he smiles. "She told me the exact same thing once."

"You aren't like I thought you were," Jungkook admits. He turns away before he can see Yoongi's reaction, shooting the basketball at the hoop instead.

"What? Not as big a douche as you thought?" Yoongi snarks back, swatting the basketball away from the hoop this time. "Don't worry, kid; I'm still an asshole no matter what. It's just about…putting up a certain type of front and making sure I won't be treated like shit. If you act soft and docile here, then you'll be targeted. That's why people like Mingyu and Yesung pick on Taehyung. I'll be honest, not all of it is a front though. I don't take shit from people now because I used to be a doormat for everyone. When you do that, you learn the hard way that that's not how to go about life." Yoongi shrugs before moving back and making a shot for the hoop. "I don't really care enough to be that sort of person anymore, but I guess it depends, because I do enjoy the friends I have and would do anything for them."

Jungkook glances away from the hoop, hearing the swish and seeing Yoongi's coy half-smirk playing at one side of his lips.

"We ought to head back in. We're supposed to be in our rooms after all, right?" Yoongi walks back over to where you're standing with the nurse, and Jungkook follows quickly, abandoning the basketball. "Are you ready to go back inside?" The question is aimed at you, and you nod in response. Again, the nurse leads the way, using a key from his pocket to unlock the door and take them back up to the kitchen again. He stays at their side until they reach the edge of the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and you pass the pen he gave your earlier back.

"Sorry if it's got my spit on it," you remark. A weak grin hangs on your lips, and Jungkook doesn't think you're truly sorry, but the nurse's expression is even funnier than that bit, because he takes it back with a grimace and a sigh.

"Do you feel any better?" Yoongi asks as they walk down the hallway. Jungkook rubs his neck, the exhaustion of staying up all night and dealing with an ungodly amount of stress finally hitting his muscles.

"No," you reply. You kick against the tile, passing Hoseok's open door with a deep frown. When Yoongi notices your expression and lingering gaze, he reaches out and pulls the door shut as he passes it.

"He'll be fine, Y/N. It was just a scare."

"No, it wasn't," you counter. "But you wouldn't understand even if I tried to explain it to you." Jungkook feels the tension spike between you and Yoongi even though he's not standing in the middle of it.

"You're right. I don't understand anything." Jungkook lowers his chin, looking to the right so he doesn't have to see either you or Yoongi anymore. The chilling tone of Yoongi's voice insinuates that a fight is about to break out, and Jungkook wonders if the nurse is still standing at the mouth of the hall to witness this. There's no way he would be able to stop a fight if one were to start.

"That's not what I meant, Yoongi," you sigh, sounding more exasperated than anything. "I was supposed to be there for Hoseok, but I wasn't. I told him I would always be there for him, and I lied. Do you understand that?"

"I was trying to reassure you, not patronize you."

"That's not your job though," you hiss. You steps slow until you're standing still in the middle of the hallway, and Jungkook wants nothing more than to just keep moving but he finds himself slowing to stand beside you anyways. "Besides, you're shit at reassuring me, so why are you trying to do that in the first place?"

"You see, this is why we are better off not talking when we're together. Things that don't involve conversation always do more good for the two of us."

"That's because you can't go five minutes without finding something to bitch about."

"And you have to help everyone in the fucking universe except yourself! Tell me why I can't bitch about that?"

"I don't need you to bitch about that. I'm fine as is."

"Oh, of course. That's so obvious because you seem to be doing great."

"Fuck off, Yoongi. Why don't you try to help me again because it went so well for you last time?"

"Looks who's bitching now."

"Sorry for being realistic."

"If Jungkook weren't here…”

"Oh? What's that? What would you do if he weren't here?"

Jungkook can't handle the pressure any longer, so he clears his throat loudly, bringing Yoongi's eyes to him. The tension in Yoongi's shoulders falls, and he relaxes them before looking at you again. Your lips are drawn into a tight frown, but you don't push the subject any longer, instead continuing to walk down the hallway without further interruption. Jungkook walks alongside Yoongi a couple feet behind you until they reach Yoongi's door.

"Yoongi!"

Jungkook presses a hand to his chest at the sudden outburst, and Yoongi's door slides open to reveal Seokjin behind it.

"Is Hoseok alright?" he asks immediately.

"How the hell do you know about that?" Yoongi counters.

"I overheard you and Jungkook talking about it when he pulled you outside. You both woke me up with that ungodly knocking."

"I-I, sorry," Jungkook stutters. Heat rises on his cheeks.

"I'll update you in a minute." Yoongi pushes his way into the room, sliding past Seokjin to get inside. Seokjin's eyes widen, and he glances between you and Jungkook before closing the door. Jungkook sighs, silence drifting back to him, and walks over to his door. You haven't gone inside yet though, and he pauses to look over at you one more time, seeing you hesitate and stare back in the direction of Hoseok's room.

"Y/N…what happened with Hoseok truly isn't your fault in any way."

You offer a dry laugh, a sound that bears exhaustion, and Jungkook frowns at your back.

"What did I tell you? Even when I try me best to help, I only ever end up hurting people. Makes me wonder why I even try sometimes." Jungkook struggles with a response, but he's too slow anyways, because you head into your room without further ado and leave Jungkook to stare at the white of your door instead of your back. Of course…running away before I can tell you otherwise. Do you not want to hear it? Or do you simply not believe it?

When Jungkook steps into his own bedroom, the yellow light of his lamp still trickles across the floor and over Taehyung's sleeping form. He does his best to stay quiet as he creeps over to his bed. Any of his previous exhaustion has dissipated and the anxiety in his gut provides too much energy for him to feel like sleeping right now. Instead, Jungkook climbs onto his bed, the springs creaking and groaning under the pressure, and pulls his journal into his lap again. Taehyung shifts in bed. For a moment, Jungkook worries that he's woken Taehyung on accident, but he doesn't move again, so Jungkook feels safe to resituate a bit more and get comfortable before scribbling everything he can remember from the whole night.

The conversation he shared with you in the kitchen is no longer fresh, but he remembers most of it — the bits about Yesung and Mingyu, and all your doubts and beliefs about yourself. Then he adds a new page to record what happened with Hoseok from the strange manner of talk he had to his collapse, and he finally has new material to add to Yoongi's page. The only information there previously was Jungkook's concerns about Yoongi hating him and being a complete asshole, but he fills the page now with nicer things, and by the time he finishes with that, the anxiety has settled down. Exhaustion creeps in again, and Jungkook can barely keep his eyes open. He tosses his journal onto his bedside table beside his lamp, shuts off the light, and finally lays down to sleep. Within minutes, sleep hits and he's falling into unconsciousness.

∞

"Mr. Jeon, it's time to get up." Jungkook groans in protest, attempting to pull his sheets over his head to block the sudden intrusion of light and the voice urging him to get up, but it doesn't work. A hand grabs the sheet and tugs it away before he can grab it. "Mr. Jeon, it's time for breakfast. Please get up immediately."

Jungkook squints as he opens his eyes, the light nearly giving him a headache. Across the room, Taehyung is slowly sitting up as well, looking just as groggy as Jungkook feels.

"You both need to get to breakfast on time today because Dr. Choi is going to be giving a talk to all the patients."

Jungkook rolls off his bed and stands up, not wholly awake quite yet. It's Nurse Irene who stands next to him, arms crosses and lips pursed as she watches Jungkook's half hearted attempts to get ready. Instead of leaving as she normally would, she lingers in the room, moving over to wait by the door. Taehyung glances over to Jungkook, their eyes meeting and sharing the same confusion, but neither of them comment on her presence. Jungkook moves for the bathroom first, snatching some clothes from the dresser in the corner first. The reflection in the mirror shows how dead Jungkook feels. Between his puffy eyes and cheeks, Jungkook thinks he looks like a marshmallow with a face. He splashes cold water over his eyes in the hope that it will wake him up faster, then changes into a new set of clothes. Taehyung slips into the bathroom as he walks out.

Jungkook eyes Nurse Irene as he tosses his clothes in the corner.

"Really, Mr. Jeon? You have a basket for those clothes." Jungkook bites his tongue at her comment, wanting to retort but he decides against it. "Thank you," Nurse Irene says when he picks the clothes up and delivers them to the basket instead. Taehyung leaves the bathroom, tossing his clothes in the same corner Jungkook did, much to Nurse Irene's dismay.

"Both of you?" She remarks with a loud scoff. Taehyung freezes, an innocent smile finding its way onto his lips.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" Jungkook asks, pulling Taehyung's attention off Nurse Irene. "I forgot to turn off my light."

"Oh, I slept fine! Did you—” Taehyung cuts himself off. Nurse Irene squints at the two of them. Jungkook presses his fingers into a tight fist. Please don't say anything, Taehyung. Taehyung clears his throat. "Sorry, lost my train of thought for a second. Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes," Jungkook replies with a small shake of his head, making sure Nurse Irene doesn't see the slight action. Taehyung tilts his chin.

"Let's go, you two. Stop wasting time." Jungkook falls into step with Taehyung, leaving the bedroom, and leans over to whisper in his ear as they walk behind Nurse Irene.

"I'll explain more later."

"Okay," Taehyung whispers back. They follow the steady stream of patients, who are also being escorted down the hallway. "Did something happen?"

"Yea."

"Do you think that's why everyone has a nurse with them? They don't normally do this."

"I don't know." Jungkook shrugs. "Why is Dr. Choi coming to give us a talk?"

"What happened last night, Jungkook?" Taehyung asks. A hand finds Jungkook's arm and latches on. Jungkook looks over at Taehyung, finding an expression of panic there. He shakes his head in response and motions at Nurse Irene's back. Taehyung seems to understand his concern and drops the subject, but a new concern rises in Jungkook's mind. We were basically caught last night. What's going to happen now?

As he walks into the dining hall, the first person he spots is you, sitting at the same table you usually sit at. Seokjin and Yoongi sit alongside you, and as Jungkook gets closer, he spots Namjoon's profile peeking from behind Seokjin's shoulders. Namjoon's back. He's back. Shit. Jungkook moves to occupy the empty seat beside him, but Taehyung's grip on his arm won't relent. Jungkook tugs a bit harder.

Taehyung pulls in response, muttering under his breath, "Don't sit there today. Sit with me today just in case something happens."

"I don't understand," Jungkook whispers back. He glances over at you and Namjoon again. You're locked in a conversation with Seokjin, no doubt another medical talk that Jungkook wouldn't be able to keep up with.

"Trust me. We've had talks with Dr. Choi before, and sometimes they end up getting pretty ugly." Taehyung pulls Jungkook over to a different table, and Jimin greets them with a small smile as they approach.

"Good morning!" Eunbi is the one to greet them warmly, offering a broad smile in contrast to Jimin's minute one.

"Hi, Eunbi. You sleep well?" Taehyung says as he sits down beside Jimin. Jungkook joins him and sits next to him.

"Yep! Aside from the nurses giving us a rude awakening, but I guess that can't be helped."

Jimin fidgets in his seat. He looks over at Taehyung, then towards Jungkook before settling his gaze on the table where you sit. He seems to think through something as he stares at your table, then leans over to whisper something in Jungkook's direction.

"Did something happen last night? The nurses are acting weirder than usual."

Jungkook leans in to whisper his response, although he's almost certain that both Eunbi and Miyeon can hear their conversation. "Something happened to Hoseok, but I'm not sure exactly what."

"Oh no." Jimin exhales, eyes growing wide at the new information.

"Everyone quiet down!" They aren't able to continue their conversation thanks to Nurse Irene, who now stands at the front of the room and claps her hands to get everyone's attention. "We are going to pass out food and medications, then Dr. Choi will come in to have a talk with you all." As she speaks, nurses come around with their typical labelled trays. Jungkook stares at his in mild disdain as he recognizes the new — but still familiar — pill alongside his food. He throws the pills back, allowing them to disappear into his system without further ado, but pokes at his food with a fork rather than eating it. The anxiety of Dr. Choi's visit and talk weighs down on his shoulders with too heavy a weight to handle.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long for Dr. Choi to come by, and the man enters the dining hall only a few minutes later, looking the same as Jungkook remembers from his first visit with the doctor. White coat, slicked back hair, and small glasses. Seeing him again proves your point in that Mingyu shares quite a few physical features with him, and Jungkook can recognize the family resemblance now that they are in the same room.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm sorry that we must do this so early, but unfortunately we had no choice. I'll ask that you listen closely for the following few minutes while I explain the situation."

His voice is just as crisp and clear as Jungkook remembers too, the same tone that told him how beneficial his stay would be at Omelas and how fortunate he is to have the opportunity to receive treatment from such a prestigious place. Bullshit. All bullshit.

"Now, some patients may be aware of what happened last night already. For those who are unaware though, two patients broke curfew and the rules by sneaking around outside their rooms last night. Would those two patients please stand up?"

You are the first to get to your feet, no hesitation in your body, and Jungkook spots almost a sense of pride in your hasty movements. Jungkook moves to join you, ready to emulate the same amount of confidence and pride, but Taehyung latches onto his arm once more and prevents him from moving. Upon looking at the man, he isn't sure that Taehyung means to inhibit him, rather Taehyung seems scared and his gaze won't leave your back.

"Taehyung, they know I was out and about already. A nurse saw me this morning," Jungkook whispers, yet Taehyung's grip only gets tighter. Another moment passes, then he responds in an equally quiet tone.

"I don't want her to get in trouble because of me. That's not fair."

Taehyung has him distracted; at least, Jungkook would like to blame it on that, because while he's speaking, Yoongi is getting to him feet and taking Jungkook's place. No no no. What is he doing? What the hell is he doing?

"Were you two the ones out and about last night?" Dr. Choi asks. Jungkook wants to jump to his feet and call Yoongi out for being a liar.

"Yes, it was," Yoongi responds in a steady voice. No! Jungkook tugs against Taehyung's arm. Yoongi glances over his shoulder, eyes finding Jungkook's and upon making eye contact, Yoongi shakes his head ever so slightly. What are you doing?

"Of course it was those two. Shouldn't expect anything less from the likes of them." Mingyu's voice rises now, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter, and Yesung laughs along with the smart-ass remark.

"Mr. Choi, stay quiet." Dr. Choi scoffs at his son's comment, then continues addressing you and Yoongi. "The two of you should know better, and neither of you should be acting out considering how long both of you have been at the clinic. Especially you, Miss L/N. The laundry room was found unlocked and opened, as well as the pantry. Then the two culprits took a volatile patient from his room and caused him to suffer a traumatic episode. Now this patient is residing at a nearby hospital to recover for the time being. Is this correct?"

"N—” Jungkook starts to protest, but you cut him off.

"Yes, sir. That is correct." What? No! It's not, it's a lie. Hoseok found us! Yoongi wasn't involved, and no one took Hoseok out of his room!

"And upon waking up two other patients, Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook, Kim Namjoon did the correct and proper thing by calling for a nurse to help, while Jeon Jungkook remained with Mr. Jung to make sure he was alright. This is what you informed us of, Mr. Min. Is this information correct?"

"Yes, it is." Jungkook bites down hard on his lower lip.

"Thanks to this situation, security will be tightened immediately. The pantry will be locked from now on, along with the laundry room. Any need to go into either room must be check with a nurse beforehand. In addition, there will be staff on night shifts in the halls to make sure that no one leaves their rooms during the night. All patients will need to check in with Head Nurse Dean at breakfast in the morning, and Nurse Irene at dinner in the evening. As for punishments for patient Min and L/N, all privileges will be revoked. For the following undisclosed amount of time, both of you will be accompanied by an assigned nurse wherever you go. Hopefully this will help you both understand the weight of your actions."

Mingyu breaks into laughter at the news, a cruel cackle leaving his lips, and Jungkook sees your shoulders press upwards at the sound.

"Quiet down, Mingyu. Now, this situation is one that must not be repeated. At Omelas, safety is our number one priority. We aim to ensure that no patient suffers any harm under our care, especially not harm from fellow patients. Remember this, and I hope you all learn from this experience." Dr. Choi turns on his heel and walks out of the room. You and Yoongi return to your seats.

"I'll be right back," Jungkook mutters to Taehyung, pulling his arm free of the other man's grasp at last. He slides out of his seat and darts over to one of the empty seats at your table. He falls into the seat between you and Yoongi, his eyes bearing holes into the side of Yoongi's skull. "Why did you take the bullet for me?"

"It doesn't matter, kid. Forget it." Yoongi glances over him then his gaze passes over Jungkook's shoulder and lands on you, lingering there.

"I'm so sorry for getting the two of you in trouble," Namjoon says. He leans closer to you. Jungkook turns to see your hand pressed against one of Namjoon's outstretched ones on the table.

"You did the right thing. There was nothing we could do as patients for Hoseok, and for once, we actually needed the nurses' help. So you aren't in the wrong, Namjoon." Namjoon smiles at your words, placing his free hand over yours.

"Hoseok is going to be okay. He's already woken up, and his vitals look good."

"That doesn't change the fact that I wasn't there for him when he needed me." You pull your hand away, and Namjoon chases after it until you withdraw it to your lap. "There's something else we need to talk about, but I won't be able to tell you with a nurse following me around for God knows how long." You shift your attention to Jungkook all the sudden, dark eyes finding his with an unsettling amount of intensity. "I need to cash in a favor."

"What?" Namjoon and Seokjin say in unison.

"Did you bribe the poor kid for something, Y/N?" Seokjin asks, but you ignore him in favor of speaking to Jungkook.

"Do you remember what Hoseok said to us?"

Of course. I wrote it all down in my journal.

"Y-Yea, I think — I might," he stammers.

"Keep it in mind. I'll need you later, but just…hold onto that thought until I ask for the favor."

Jungkook bobs his head in response, nodding along with your words until you sigh in relief.

"Mr. Jeon, please return to your seat and eat your meal." A nurse steps behind Jungkook, looming over his shoulder and looking over the table, and Jungkook instinctively leans back. You don't say anything more now that the nurse is lurking by the table, so Jungkook stands up and steps back over to his seat beside Taehyung. As soon as he sits down, Jimin hits him with a question.

"Did they say anything about Hoseok?"

"Uh, no." Jungkook shakes his head, staring at his tray of food with little interest, and out of the corner of his eye, he spots the deep frown that comes to Jimin's lips.

"Uh…are you—are you busy after breakfast maybe?" Jimin inquires. Jungkook looks over at the man. A faint red hue paints the apples of his cheeks now.

"No, I just have a vital check and an afternoon appointment."

"Could we talk after breakfast then?" Jungkook drops his jaw, and his lips form a small 'o' as he blinks at Jimin.

"Yea, of course!" He says in a rush, and Jimin smiles in gratitude.

"Oh, can I come along too?" Taehyung asks. He mimics Jimin's smile and looks between both men.

"Tae, you've got a morning class today. You missed the last one, remember?"

"Oh…okay, yea. I forgot about that." Taehyung pouts, pushing the food on his plate around as he slumps in his seat. Eunbi maintains conversation for the remainder of breakfast, although Jungkook finds his focus more on the girl who sits beside her instead.

"She said Miyeon hasn't thrown up in over three weeks — a new record for her — and she seems to be in a much better mood nowadays."

"If this keeps up, then she could be gone by the end of the month. Two months at the latest, I'd say."

I almost forgot that she may be on her way out… That's strange to think about. What if someone else leaves too? Everyone has been here longer than I have, but…I never thought about how they could all leave within the blink of an eye. Would that truly be an issue though? Maybe things would be easier then.

At the end of breakfast, Jimin gets up and pulls Jungkook aside, standing at the edge of the room and watching the other patients trickle out. A nurse joins Yoongi as he heads out, and another sticks to your side when you leave as well.

"Taehyung's gonna beat himself up over this for weeks," Jimin says as they watch you walk out, his arms folded across his chest.

"None of it is his fault though. It was…bad timing on everything."

"Tae doesn't believe in bad timing or coincidence. I know it's not his fault in any way, but he won't believe that. Everything hits him a bit hard, and he blames himself for even minor inconveniences." Jimin drops his arms and shrugs, then motions over his shoulder. "Do you mind going outside for a bit?"

"No, I'm fine with that."

Jimin nods and walks over to one of the nurses picking up the trays from breakfast.

"Can we go for a short walk around the basketball court?"

"That's fine." The nurse leaves the trays in his hands on the table, and similar to earlier in the morning, leads the way to the door at the edge of the room.

Jungkook waits for Jimin to start talking, but he doesn't so they head down the flight of stairs in silence. Jungkook presses his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and braces himself or the rush of cold that comes from stepping out into the morning air. Even though the sun is higher up and offers more light than it did earlier, the air still feels chilly, and Jungkook subconsciously shivers under the breeze. Jimin mimics his actions and shoves his hands into his pockets as well, starting to walk around the edge of the court without waiting for Jungkook to catch up.

"Uh, I just wanted to clear up some stuff we talked about yesterday," Jimin says once Jungkook falls into step with him. "I wasn't completely honest with you when we talked about my history in the clinic. I know I told you that Yesung moved into my room when Hoseok arrived here, but that's not true. In reality, um, I lived alone at the time, so they moved Hoseok into my room. I roomed with him for around six months, but things — his condition got worse over time. I-I didn't lie because I was ashamed of living with Hoseok or anything like that. I…I just find it difficult to talk about.

"Living with someone like Hoseok was both challenging and eye opening. Some days, I would wake up and Hoseok would have no clue where he was. Other days, he would look me in the eye and ask me who I was because he didn't recognize me anymore. Living with someone really helped Hoseok, but I don't feel like I was the proper person for him to live with. I couldn't handle the breakdowns or forgetfulness or any of the other things Hoseok struggles with. Someone better equipped would have been better, maybe someone like Namjoon who seems to have a clear mind and a better grip on his own emotions and troubles."

Jimin pauses. He looks up at the sky, and when Jungkook glances in his direction, he sees unshed tears hanging in the corners of his eyes.

"The real reason Hoseok switched rooms with Yesung was because I requested it. It may have been a lapse of judgement in the heat of the moment, but I was looking out for myself more than anyone else. I didn't take Hoseok into consideration when I made the decision. Anytime I see or hear of Hoseok struggling, I can't help but to think about how I could've done something different. What would have happened if I did something else? Or not requested the switch? Been a better roommate for him? I know I'm rambling now, but I wanted to clarify things. I also felt bad for lying about it."

"I understand," Jungkook responds. "I would've done the same in your position."

"Yea, well…nevermind. I won't keep you any longer, so we can head back inside. It's pretty cold out here too." Jimin jerks his head towards the door. Jungkook follows him over, waiting for the nurse to unlock the door again and take them inside. The inside air holds a welcome warmth, and Jungkook frees his hands from the confines of his pockets now that he's in the warmer air. Once they reach the top of the stairs and step back into the dining hall, Jimin waves one hand at Jungkook. "I gotta go do some checkups and stuff, but I'll see you around. Thanks for the talk."

"No problem. See ya." Jungkook waves back but lingers near the window. Jimin disappears from sight. The nurse who was with them returns to taking up trays from the table. Jungkook weaves between the tables to get closer to the window and look outside. How much is connected? Between Y/N's relationship with Hoseok and Jimin's…where's the overlap? I don't understand how it all fits together. I still don't know how Y/N started helping Hoseok and Taehyung in the first place, or her real reasons for why she does the things she does. I don't know a lot, I guess, but it's too distracting right now. I want out. I have to focus on that, right? No matter how invested I feel in this weird story within the clinic. Of course I want to connect the dots and finish the puzzle but…I want out. More than anything else, I need to be out of here. Back to life, back to university, my family and friends. None of this matters in the long run, does it?

Jungkook balls his hands into tight fists by his sides. I'm not trying hard enough to get out. Too distracted, focused on things other than myself. I just need to focus on showing the doctors than I'm fine and get out before I get in too deep.

Jungkook turns away from the window and walks back to his room with a new resolve on his mind. Once he's gone, none of this will matter anymore and he can go back to his old life without worrying anymore. People he doesn't know, things that don't affect him — he doesn't need it right now, so he just needs to remind himself that it doesn't matter. His journal doesn't matter, any of the stupid information he's written there won't be important when he gets out. Part of Jungkook feels stupid for investing himself so much in all this shit rather than focusing on himself. After all, that's the most important thing to every patient here, right? You said it, Jimin said it — now Jungkook is going to say it as well. He steps into his room with head ducked, looking up only after he closes the door behind himself.

What he sees waiting for him is unexpected to say the least.

Taehyung sits on the edge of Jungkook's bed, and his heart plummets when he sees the object resting in his roommate's lap. It's his journal, cracked open to expose all the secrets Jungkook buried there. Taehyung doesn't meet Jungkook's gaze. He keeps staring at the pages in his lap, finger tracing over the black ink painting the paper.

"Taehy—” Jungkook stops himself as he sees the tear tracts running down Taehyung's cheeks. Shit. Taehyung covers his face with one hand, the other still clutching Jungkook's journal in a death grip. "Shit, Tae, it's not—I swear—I—”

"Is it all true?"

...

a/n: what did you guys think of the chapter? what was your fav part? lemme know here or send me a message! sorry for the cliffhanger~ whoops >-<

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years ago

Text

162 – continuation

The wonderful @scale-shark72 inspired me again to write a continuation to show Gavin’s reaction to Nines’ attempt at socialising. Have fun!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

part1 part3 part4 part5

Gavin stood next to his coffee-machine at home, waiting for his first dose of caffeine before driving over to the precinct. Absent-minded he turned the stone in his hand. It had become a new habit of his, just flipping over the not completely round object while he was thinking. It had been two days since the android gifted it to him. Since then it had gotten back to not emoting in any way. Sitting opposite to him, reacting at things that weren't meant for him and not reacting when they were. Talking analytical, more a machine than a machine would have been. God, even Connor had been more human-like before deviating. And Gavin knew the RK900 was a deviant. That was the one requirement of working at the DPD.

Since their meeting outside, the weird comments and, well, this stone, Gavin's thoughts circled around the android. It was clear this incident meant something; it was too odd for it not to. But he couldn't find a reason. Connor had taught him the lesson not to offend the robot in any way. A man's pride could only be hurt so many times, before backing down. He had thought that to be the status quo from now on - Gavin being civil with the thing and in return having to deal with that oversized text to speech analyser- but the android’s actions had been social ones. At least they were not work related. Well, it was something entirely new in working with the android and Gavin had no idea how to get some insight. He could ask the android himself but talking with the thing wouldn't get him anything but new questions with his cryptic techno-talks. He could ask Connor, but that wouldn't end well. Maybe Hank? Again, not the best of ideas as the man was practically glued to the RK800. Maybe it was best to just let it go and ignore the stupid android. Maybe it was just malfunctioning anyway.

As he arrived at the precinct the android was already working away. As it always was. Except for that day of unexplainable absence, the machine had always been working. Did it work when he had gone home, too? Connor never stayed overnight for all he knew. God, when had he become so caught up with this android? ‘Morning, tin-can.’ No answer. Well, as expected. The stupid thing most likely was too deep into whatever it was working on. Gavin turned on his computer and while he waited, positioned the stone he still held in his pocket on his table. ‘Hey, toaster.’ The other raised his head, completely void of any expression yet somehow it screamed confusion all over the place. ‘What can I do for you, Detective?’ ‘Erm… yes, regarding that. I wanted to- ah phck, are you always working?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘For real? What do you do when I’m gone?’ ‘I stay and work on our cases.’ ‘You don’t have to, I don’t know, sleep or something?’ ‘I require time spent in stasis, four to six hours depending on the activities of the day.’ ‘And you do nothing but sit here all the time?’ ‘No. Was that expected?’ ‘Was that- hell, tin-can that can’t be healthy, even for an android!’ ‘Androids can’t get ill, detective.’ ‘Yeah, but you’re awake, right? I mean you guys can have mental stuff.’ ‘I don’t know what you mean with mental stuff but I assure you I am in perfect working condition.’ ‘Oh phck off man. You’re acting like a damn machine all the time, maybe it’s the stress.’ ‘Detective, I am a machine.’ ‘You are a deviant. You are supposed to feel and shit.’ ‘I don’t eat, so I don’t have to-‘ ‘Okay stop this before it gets worse, okay? Connor is a machine, too and he is feeling plenty.’ ‘I never said I don’t have feelings.’ ‘Really? Because I got the idea you don’t. There can be the most gruesome murder and you comment on how the body is underweight. Like holy shit man, look at you know. You are like an extraordinarily detailed mannequin. There is literally no expression at all. That really creeped me out in the beginning.’

There was the red light again. Shit. Across the precinct, Connor shot up from his chair. What kind of telepathy-sixth-sense they both had, Gavin would never know. What he was sure of though, was that his day was off to a bad start, when he would have a talk with the older brother at this early hour. The RK800 was already stomping over, Gavin getting in a defensive position ready to jump up to his feet. ‘Hey, come on man, all we did was talk! I didn’t do anything.’ But the android was determined, and he prepared for getting thrown against a wall again. But none of that happened, when the RK900 got up instead, pushing against his brother’s chest and blocking his path. ‘RK800. Stop. I am perfectly capable of handling the Detective myself, I don’t need you to act for me every time. I never asked for it.’ Surprisingly, Connors face got soft immediately with a knowing smile. ‘Nines, I know you might think that way, but I know you are misinterpreting this. Something he said stressed you and you don’t know how to react. I won’t let my little brother get exploited or ordered around, simply because he lacks a social module and doesn’t understand what’s happening. So, let me handle this for you.’ ‘No. You don’t recognise you order me around right now. The Detective did nothing but talk to me. How am I supposed to write my own programming if I have no source to learn from? If I ever need your help, I will ask for it. But right now, you are acting without my consent again and I won’t let that happen. I want you to go.’

Gavin had simply watched what was happening, not really understanding everything, but seemingly getting a bit more of an idea what was going on. Connor surprisingly nodded at that and went back to his desk, looking just as confused as Gavin himself. ‘For the sake of working efficiency, would you accompany me to the break room?’ ‘Err, yes. Of course. What the hell happened there? You know I need an explanation, right?’

He followed the android through the precinct, feeling Connor’s eyes in his back. Before Gavin could say anything, the android burst out: ‘My unit doesn’t have a social module. It was never installed because my prototype remained unfinished in the revolution. I can’t pick up or imitate important communication means such as facial expressions, voice intonation and gestures.’ ‘Wow, okay. That is a bit much. So, what you are saying is you can’t feel anything?’ ‘No. I can feel emotions. I can’t emote them or recognise them in others.’ ‘Shit. Why did you never told anyone?’ ‘Hank and Connor know. Fowler too. That was the reason he partnered me up with a human.’ ‘Okay, why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘It is a defect.’ ‘And you want to appear perfect?’ Silence. Then an answer: ‘Yes. I wanted to be a good partner.’ ‘Okay, what did you mean with “writing your own programming”?’ ‘I don’t have a social module installed, but I can build up my own from experience. I did a lot of research and learned from the people around me in the hopes of figuring it out before someone recognises it. But I failed.’ Gavin looked at the android before him and his red LED. A lot began to make sense all of sudden. ‘So that’s what it was out there, you gifting me the stone?’ ‘My research resulted that to make a partner happy you compliment them and bring gifts. I tried it, although I can’t know whether I succeeded.’ ‘Hey, I really like the stone. You did great. And you are a good partner. All this time I thought you were some kind of asshole ignoring me all day, but this actually makes sense now.’ ‘I can understand if you don’t want to work alongside a defective android.’ ‘Oh come on, you are working with a defective human and don’t seem to complain. And you’re not defective in the first place if you were built this way, I guess.’ ‘So you still want to work with me?’ ‘Of course. Although now you’ve given me something to think about… Do you want me to help build up your social skill-thingy?’ ‘I would appreciate that.’ ‘Good. Tonight, you won’t staying here and work, you are coming with me and see people!’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #lets be honest gavin will mess up a perfectly good android #I mean his personality isn't the best to work with when learning how to human #well RK900 has a thing to say in that too I guess so it should be fine

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setaripendragon · 5 years ago

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Never Simple - Chapter 5

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] Okay, so, I promise this is a fix-it, but... this is also... kind of... worse than canon? =D? At least, it felt worse than canon when I was writing it -shrugs- Um, trigger warnings for... the standard venom-style warnings of attempted cannibalism and dubious-consent possessions, and then also warnings for dead alien babies, a dead dog, mostly off-screen reproductive slavery, and Tucker. Tucker gets his own warning because, obviously. Please proceed with caution if any of those things might upset you. I tried not to pull my punches with this one, so... yeah.

One week drifted by, and then two. Ed and Al spent most of their time either in the library, or outside playing with Nina and Alexander, because there wasn’t much that could keep Ed inside besides the library. He couldn’t find Tucker’s notes anywhere, so he was pretty sure the man had lied about them being in the library. Understandable, if annoying, given what Ed suspected was in those notes.

Shouldn’t you recognise him, if he did free one of the things from the gate? He had asked Truth on their second day at Tucker’s.

You all taste the same, in the end. Truth had replied, which was creepy, and Ed had ignored it for the rest of the day as he tried not to think about that. Not that it had much impact on Truth, who was being disturbingly quiet during their stay at Tucker’s house. It was preoccupied, Ed supposed, with the way the whole place just felt slightly wrong.

It was something of a relief to Ed that Tucker had meant it when he said he’d be busy. They barely saw the man except for dinner, and sometimes not even then. The times when they did see him were at least made less awkward by the way Nina chattered happily away about her day, apparently oblivious to the heightened tension that Ed felt whenever Tucker was around.

He’d told Al about what he suspected was the truth behind Tucker’s talking chimera, and Al had been appropriately horrified, but he was better at feigning politeness than Ed, who resorted, mostly, to reading at the dinner table in an effort to avoid having to talk to Tucker.

Then there were Al’s doctor’s appointments, which invariably concluded with the answer ‘we have no idea’ that frustrated Ed to the point of rage. Al was advised repeatedly to return for more tests, but those would have to wait until after Ed made State Alchemist and had the money to burn. So instead, Ed just made sure Al rested as much as he needed to and didn’t do anything too risky for his health, and tried not to worry himself sick as well. It wasn’t easy.

“I can get a glass of water by myself, Brother!” Al snapped at him in the middle of the night when Ed had woken to Al’s coughing and offered to accompany him to get something to drink to soothe his throat. Ed harrumphed, but didn’t push, just flopping back down and scowling at the ceiling as Al tiptoed out of their room.

By the time Al got back, Ed had very nearly worked himself into a proper snit, but one look at Al’s face in the gloom made him forget all about being annoyed with his brother. “Nina’s not in her bed.” Al told him without beating around the bush. “I stuck my head in, just to check on her, on my way back, but she wasn’t there.”

Ed clambered out of bed. “And she wasn’t in the bathroom?” He checked, even though it was obvious she hadn’t been. Al shook his head. “Kitchen?”

They went and checked, but the house was entirely still and dark. “Do you think… Maybe she just had a nightmare and went to Mr Tucker’s room?” Al suggested, wringing his hands together. They checked that, too. It was awkward to be knocking on Tucker’s bedroom door in the middle of the night, but Ed figured if Nina was there, they’d be forgiven, and if she wasn’t, then Tucker would probably want to know anyway.

But there was no answer. Impatient and more worried than he wanted to admit to, Ed opened the door. The room beyond was empty. Ed felt very cold, all of a sudden. Because if Nina had gone looking for her dad, and found the room empty just like Ed and Al had, he knew exactly where she’d look next. And what she’d find down there would be either human experimentation, or a monster that ate people.

Ed whipped around, met Al’s gaze, and knew they were thinking the same thing. They bolted for the stairs. They ran all the way down to the ground floor, and then pelted for the door that led down to the basement, where Tucker’s lab was. Those stairs were a lot less grand than the rest of the stairs in the house, just plain simple wood, just barely wide enough for two people to pass each other on them, and the further down them they went, the more ill Ed felt. It was a weird, shaky wrongness, like there were insects under his skin, gnawing at his bones. And that mental image was not helping.

Truth was echoing the feeling, though, touched with an edge of pain that Ed felt like a phantom ache, although it wasn’t centered anywhere, because Truth wasn’t really centered anywhere inside him. He ignored it, though, pushed it aside to shove open the door at the bottom of the stairs, disregarding all of Tucker’s instructions that they must knock before coming into the lab.

For a single heartbeat, Ed felt relief. Nina was there, kneeling on the floor and leaning forwards to peer at something, her dad crouched next to her and smiling down at her. And then Truth recoiled inside him, such a visceral reaction that Ed thought they might be about to throw up, and he finally noticed the horror show lining the walls.

At first glance, they looked like those dinky little toy plasma globes that some alchemist had made a fortune off selling as toys to kids. But then Ed realised that where the electrode should have been, there was something moving, a little pulsating, twitching orb of biological matter. Familiar-looking biological matter. And there were dozens of them on the shelves lining the walls of Tucker’s lab.

Grief ricochetted through Ed, and it took him several long seconds to realise it was Truth’s, not his own. Truth didn’t have words in the face of it, but Ed didn’t need them to realise that, even though they appeared to be moving, the creatures inside those jars had to be dead. How? What-? Ed tried to ask, but he could barely manage coherence even inside his own head. Truth was no better. All Ed got from it was a tangled sense of cages and torture and pointless, senseless death and the building urge to scream.

“Big brother!” Nina called, the sweet, innocent enthusiasm of her voice rattling through Ed like a blow. Slowly, Ed managed to turn his gaze back to her, but flinched when he realised that Tucker, too, had turned to look at him. Howling fury broke through him, and he gritted his teeth on it, curled his hands into shaking fists and struggled, desperately, to understand. “Big brother, come look! Alexander’s having babies!”

Stillness.

Ed was simply confused, because Alexander was very definitely a boy dog, not a girl dog, but Truth felt like a predator, frozen and tense like an alley cat at the sound of a slamming door. There was a terrible sense of understanding beginning to creep through Truth, but Ed couldn’t follow it, couldn’t keep up with whatever understanding that bizarre little statement of Nina’s had engendered.

“Babies, Nina?” Al asked, just as confused and wary as Ed felt, but with none of the horror. He didn’t have any real way of understanding what he was seeing, after all. He edged a little further into the lab, and Ed threw his arm out to keep Al from passing him. “Brother?” Al murmured, too quietly for anyone else to hear, especially not with the barely-audible hum of the plasma cages on the walls. A trickle of understanding filtered through to Ed as the thought passed through his mind. Truth had told him, hadn’t it, that fire was dangerous to its kind, and fire was a type of plasma.

“Come and see!” Nina insisted. As though he were a puppet on strings, Ed reluctantly jerked forwards, one step, two, another, and then he could see Alexander lying on a rug on the floor in front of Nina and Tucker. At least, he assumed it was Alexander, because it was vaguely dog-shaped, but there wasn’t a hint of white fur in sight, just a writhing mass of biological ooze in various shades and hues.

Between one blink and the next, Ed was no longer in Tucker’s lab, looking down at what was – should have been – used to be – Alexander, but instead standing in a field of white nothingness looking into a great stone archway filled to the brim with viscera reaching out tendrils in an attempt to catch him and drag him in to join them, to be consumed. Truth’s voice echoed in his ears; “I thought this was what you wanted, you arrogant little shit.” and he was coming apart, coming undone, dissolving on the spot into nothing more than soup, tiny little pieces of him plucked off one at a time-

Ed threw up. He gasped and gagged and heaved until his eyes were streaming involuntary tears and all he could taste was stomach acid, which only wound the panic tighter, every inch of him convinced that he was being turned inside out for the sadistic amusement of the voice that lived in his head. “-ther?! Brother!”

“Al-!” Ed gasped out, reaching a hand out in a flailing motion until another hand caught his and squeezed. It helped dial some of the terror back, allowing Ed to actually begin to breathe properly again, although his head swooped in ways that told him he’d probably been hyperventilating a moment before. He gripped Al’s hand as tight as he could and tried to pull himself together.

“Big brother? Are you okay?” Nina asked.

“Fine.” Ed rasped, even though it was a complete, stinking lie. “Fine, just…” He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Alexander while very carefully not looking at him again, but didn’t elaborate. He wasn’t sure he could without throwing up again.

“It is a little bit gross.” Nina agreed carefully. “But they’re really pretty, too.” She assured him, so earnest that Ed forced himself to bite back the words that wanted to spill past his lips.

“They really are beautiful, aren’t they?” Tucker agreed, his voice suffused with something that might have been joy, except there was an edge to it that Ed found deeply disturbing. Or maybe that was just the fact that he was calling blobs of writhing viscera ‘beautiful’. Truth surged inside him, trying to pull at Ed’s body, trying to make him go over there and kill Tucker, but Ed didn’t even have to fight to keep his feet firmly where they were. He wasn’t going one step closer to whatever Tucker had turned Alexander into for all the books in Amestris.

Al tugged Ed around, pulled him into an almost-hug, and checked his temperature. If Ed hadn’t been trying to keep his breathing steady, he might have laughed. “Are you sure you’re alright, Brother?” Al asked quietly, a muted version of the panic swimming in Ed’s veins showing in his eyes.

Ed opened his mouth, struggling to find words to explain, or deflect, or something, when he was distracted by Tucker. “I’m sure Edward will be alright once he gets over the shock. Here, Nina.” He said, soothing and warm. “Do you want to hold one?”

“Can I?!”

Time felt like it had turned to molasses as Ed turned, as fast as he could but too slow, too slow, and lurched forwards. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to be here in this awful room, didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see, but that was his little sister reaching out to cup a monster in her hands. He couldn’t keep Al from getting hurt, couldn’t save him from whatever Truth had done to him in those twenty-four hours before Ed had stepped up to accept responsibility, but maybe he could save Nina, if he could just- just reach her in time-!

“NO!” He shouted, futilely, as Nina’s fingertips touched the slick yellow-brown mass and it began to crawl up her fingers like a swarm of insects, coating her arm and her shoulder and her neck and her chest and her face as she turned towards Ed at the sound of his shout. Between one heartbeat and the next, Nina’s wide-eyed, startled expression was hidden behind a mask of mottled yellow and brown, with a mouth full of shark teeth splitting into a wide, gaping snarl.

“H-hun-gry-!” The thing possessing Nina stammered out, as though its mouth didn’t quite know how to shape the word.

Ed’s whole body threatened to lock up in terror, the memory of a different beloved face being swallowed up behind blue, instead of yellow, surging to the fore of his mind and leaving him paralysed. Truth surged again, and this time, Ed had no willpower to spare fighting it off, no conviction strong enough to maintain control. Truth brought their hands together while twisting out of the way of Nina’s – not Nina’s – lunge, leaving those jaws to snap shut on nothing but air. As palm met palm, an array bloomed to life in Ed’s mind, and even though he’d never seen anything remotely like it before, he still, somehow, knew it down to his bones.

It was deceptively simple, little more than a pentagram inside a circle, with another circle just within the first, and a bisected circle over the heart of the pentagram. Five little nodes within the two outer circles between the points of the pentagram held the symbols for the four different states of matter and, in the one at the bottom, a pair of curved lines with circles at either end. Dissolution of the physical mass into a contained state between the fabric of the world.

Such a simple array, for something so terrible. Truth pulled their hands apart just in time to catch hold of the thing that wasn’t Nina as it tried to bite them again. The moment skin touched not-skin, alchemical energy lit the room, red-purple sparks crackling through the air as the thing that wasn’t Nina wailed. Ed would have flinched if he’d been in control of his body, because it sounded exactly like a baby’s cry, if the cry had been coming from underwater. Yellow-brown ooze melted away, breaking apart and disappearing into the air like cinders from a bonfire, leaving behind Nina’s small, trembling form in Ed’s arms.

Ed collapsed to his knees, pulled her close, and pressed his face into her hair, trying not to cry, not sure if it was himself, or Truth, that most felt like weeping. You sent it to the gate, didn’t you? He thought tiredly.

Yes. Truth confirmed.

Nina was right, wasn’t she, when she called them babies? It couldn’t even talk properly.

…Yes.

Ed felt acid rise in the back of his throat, and he swallowed convulsively. Now was not the time to throw up again. That’s NOT RIGHT! He insisted, clutching Nina even closer. She was making tiny wounded noises, frightened noises and clutching at the front of his pyjamas.

There was nothing else to be done. Truth replied, achingly quiet in the wake of Ed’s mental shout. There is no other way to stop us.

It was a BABY! Ed thought desperately. It didn’t know any better!

That wouldn’t have made you any less eaten if we’d done nothing! Truth retorted, with equally furious desperation. Ed couldn’t summon up words in the face of that, couldn’t think in linear sentences when all he felt like doing was screaming, because that had been a brand new sentient creature that was being punished for nothing more than wanting to live.

“What did you do? How did you do that?!” Tucker demanded, bringing the rest of the world crashing back into Ed’s awareness. Ed lifted his head to glare at the man, a sick, hot fury flooding through him. Tucker’s eyebrows flew up as if Ed’s hatred had actually startled him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, adjusting his glasses and making them flash in the eerie light of the prisons full of corpses lining the walls. “If you know enough about these things to be able to destroy one of them, then you must have done the same thing I did.”

“Don’t-” Ed snarled, so full of fury and disgust that his voice cracked on the word. “-put me on the same level as you.”

“No?” Tucker challenged, smiling faintly. “But we are the same, Edward, we both committed the same taboo. We looked at the human body and thought we could improve upon it, didn’t we? Who was it, that you tried to pull apart to see how they worked?” He wondered, mildly, curiously, like this was an intellectual debate in a lecture hall, not-

It would be easy to answer that question, to try to explain that he had only been trying to help, but a realisation dawned on him that thoroughly distracts him. “Your wife didn’t just up and leave one day, did she?” He asked hollowly. Nina went very still in his arms.

Tucker sighed, slow and deep. “No. I needed a breakthrough. I was so close to making a chimera that would astound the military, and then I could keep her and Nina in the life they deserve, I just needed to understand, and-” Tucker cut himself off, head snapping around.

Ed followed his gaze to Alexander. Or what had once been Alexander. Because the largest of the things bubbling out from under Alexander’s fur was peeling itself free, an oozing mass of red-streaked black stretching and creeping across the floor leaving only bare tendrils behind it attached to the raw and bloody mess that was all that was left of Alexander. Ed made sure to keep one hand curled around Nina’s head, keeping her face pressed to his chest so she couldn’t see that little piece of hell.

Tucker clicked his tongue, reached out and picked up a clear glass jar. Then he stooped and scooped the majority of the black ooze into the jar, and Ed abruptly realised what it was. His gut swooped, and he tried to stand, tried to stop him, but he had to untangle himself from Nina first, and by the time he’d managed to get to his feet, Tucker was already screwing on the lid – the base – and pressing a finger to the array etched into it.

There was a hiss, and then the gasses in the outer bulb of the jar ionised, and lightning began to dance through it. The creature within shrieked, and retreated to the inner bulb, coiling in and in and in on itself in an attempt to escape the plasma. “There.” Tucker said, satisfied, holding the jar up to peer inside with a terrible, beatific smile on his face. “It took me a long time to figure it out, you know, but plasma is anathema to them. I’m still not quite sure why.” Tucker explained, over the shrieking that still hadn’t stopped. “But at least, like this, they can’t eat anyone.”

Ed wanted to scream. “You know the rest of them are dead, right? That’s why they’re not eating. Because they’re dead.” He didn’t know quite how he knew that, but he did. Truth’s knowledge, he supposed, but he’d known it from the moment he laid eyes on them, and now, seeing the live one in the jar in Tucker’s hand, he could see the difference in the way they moved. The one in Tucker’s jar looked alive, responsive, shying away from the plasma in the outer bulb. The ones in the jars on the walls were just… twitching.

Tucker blinked rapidly at him, startled. “But they’re moving.” He said dumbly.

“Automatic response. It’s their version of fucking post-mortem muscle spasms.” Ed snarled.

Tucker pushed his glasses up his nose and set the jar negligently aside on his desk. “Fascinating. How do you kn-” He got no further, however, because in that moment, Alexander’s corpse had staggered upright and lurched for Tucker. Half its muzzle was missing, fur and skin and muscle devoured all along the left side of its body, still dripping blood here and there even as Ed saw the edges of the worst wounds beginning to close over, muscles knitting back together to enable proper movement.

It’s jaws snapped shut on air as Tucker jerked backwards with a curse. “No! Daddy!” Nina yelled, high and desperate, and Ed flung an arm out in panic, but Nina just ducked under it and flung herself between her father and the monster trying to eat him. She looked so horribly pale in the strange light of the lab, eyes far too wide and a little unfocused. Not really processing what she was seeing, just acting on instinct.

Ed and Truth moved in concert, so harmonised in their intent to save Nina that the edges of who was doing what blurred. The world turned clear and utterly predictable, and they could taste the exact chemical composition of the air, could hear the vibrations of heartbeats, could feel the heat of every living thing in the room. The cages lining the wall screeched against their senses, the pulsing wrongness of the plasma an affront, but ignorable.

They crashed into Alexander mid-leap, sending him careening off-course to hit the ground on his side with a dull, wet thud. The hands that came up into their oddly grainy and yet inexplicably clear line of sight were not the tanned, ink-stained ones Ed expected. They were a perfect stark white, too smooth and agile to look anything other than uncanny, and when they pressed together, that same array sprang into their mind, perfectly formed and perfectly clear.

No. Ed said, only it didn’t come out of his mouth like he intended it to. Their hands did freeze, though, pressed together as if in prayer.

There is nothing else we can do! Truth snarled at him.

This is wrong. There has to be a better way! Ed insisted. The thing riding in Alexander’s corpse staggered to its feet and attacked them. They grabbed it around the throat, but not before it got close enough to sink its teeth into their leg, tearing a chunk out of them. Shock rippled through Ed, but the pain he was expecting never came. Just a dull sort of ache, a knowledge of loss, even as white bubbled up to fill the gap until it was as smooth as ever, as though nothing had happened.

The thing in Alexander snarled using his vocal chords, head twisted at an awkward angle, and tried to mimic them, patches of dark blue viscera oozing out of flayed skin and exposed muscle. You had best come up with your ‘better way’ fast, arrogant little alchemist, before it eats more of us than we can replenish. Truth sneered at him.

Tell it to stop? Ed suggested

Truth very clearly imagined a sensation of rolling eyes at Ed, but obliged. “That is enough, little one. These people are not food.” It commanded. The thing riding around in Alexander’s corpse snarled, and lunged again. Well? Any other bright ideas? Truth challenged while grappling with the dog.

Okay, just… can’t we just get it out of Alexander for now? Ed wondered.

And what? Put it in one of Tucker’s jars?! Truth retorted, making Ed flinch internally.

No! Of course not! Ed protested, but he didn’t have any other answers. Truth snarled wordlessly, and dug white fingers through the largest bubbling, oozing patch of speckled blue ooze. Alexander began to twist and writhe, splattering blood and strips of torn flesh everywhere as the thing inside him screeched. Truth plunged their other hand into Alexander’s body, and pulled, scooping alien mass out of mortal flesh at a molecular level with every pass of their fingers. A blue-black speckled mass came out in handfuls, trailing sticky threads back to Alexander’s body, which staggered dizzily, and then collapsed in a lifeless heap as Truth hauled another fistful, and then another into a small bundle that it could just about hold between both hands.

With Truth holding it contained like that, it was about the size of a large apple, if large apples squirmed and writhed and attempted to ooze out of the gaps between your fingers at every opportunity. “You’re not going anywhere, little one.” Truth chided. “Stop.”

The little blue blob made a sound kind of like a growl.

A dart of movement, a flash of heat passing by distracted them, and they looked up to see a mass of little red tentacles pounce on what was left of Alexander’s corpse and begin devouring it head first. It’s like herding cats. Truth thought in exasperation.

Ed snickered a little hysterically, and it came out warped and reverberating, silencing him abruptly when he heard it. It’s fine. At least- He felt sick, but he could prioritise, right now. At least Alexander is already dead. It’s fine. He insisted.

Truth accepted that without a word. Well? What are we to do with this little one, if we’re not to send it to the gate where it can be safely contained among its kin?

Ed faltered. I don’t… I don’t know. Ed admitted.

While you puzzle it out, do recall that we’re not going to be able to hold on to this one forever. Truth snapped. Not that Ed needed the reminder. It was like trying to hold on to a greased eel that was also capable of shape-shifting, and the only reason they’d managed it so far was because there were two of them, and Truth could focus on holding onto the thing which left Ed free to figure out what to do with it.

There was only one potential solution that came to him, but it wasn’t actually a good idea. It relied so heavily on chance, and it would only make things worse if it failed, and Ed honestly didn’t know if he liked it any better than the other options, let alone how he would convince Truth to give it a go. I’m surprised it hasn’t tried to bite our fingers off yet. He thought absently, a paltry attempt to distract himself from picking between a bunch of bad options.

We cannot, not while we are without a host. Truth informed him, projecting to Ed the sensation of passing through food instead of absorbing it and being left only with the phantom sensation of satisfaction that only made the hunger more acute. That seemed odd, to Ed, because he’d just seen-

The bottom dropped out of Ed’s stomach. It shouldn’t have been possible, given how many times already he’d felt the whole world give out on him just this evening, but apparently, there was still enough horror left in him for this. Because what he had taken for just another formless oozing shape wasn’t.

He turned their attention back towards Alexander, and the thing gnawing on his spine. That was a tiny human shape, creamy yellow limbs streaked with rust red like tiger stripes that matched the mass of tentacles spilling out of their head and back like a deranged facsimile of hair. It seemed to notice the sudden stillness, and looked around to stare at them with perfectly round, perfectly blank eyes set in a face that was uncanny in how human it wasn’t. That- That was Nina.

Ed staggered, head full of static. He was aware, on some level, of the world around him continuing to exist, of Nina and something else staring at him through that tangled mass of red tendrils, but he had disengaged. It was too much. Too many horrors one on top of the other, and he couldn’t cope.

There was red staining the teeth that he could see in Nina’s mouth. Blood. Because the thing inside her had made her eat her only friend, at least until Ed and Al had come along. There was a scream building in Ed’s throat that couldn’t escape because it wasn’t his own throat right now. What must they look like, right now, two alien monsters staring at each other across a bloody, corpse-filled laboratory?

No! Focus, Ed! Truth yelled as it moved their body, diving to catch- Oh, Ed had dropped the other one, the blue one, let it slip through his fingers while he was too busy contemplating whether Nina was going to try and eat him next, just like this one had. Stupid. But his head was full of static, a scream that he couldn’t voice, and he couldn’t focus.

Their clumsy grab missed, and the blue creature oozed across the floorboards like a mould. Either snap out of it and focus or let me do it! Truth commanded, and Ed… Ed relinquished control. He willingly took a back seat in his own mind, retreating from the reality of everything that had happened that evening. Truth’s movements became suddenly much swifter, much more fluid.

And when Tucker, dark speckled blue ooze crawling across face in a horrifying echo of the worst day of Ed’s life, reached for Nina, Truth was able to get between them, was able to knock Tucker’s feet out from under him and drop to one knee, hands coming together again with that array filling their mind. A scythe made of living biomass sliced clean through their arm, and Truth cursed as their remaining hand shot out to grab at the arm the scythe had grown out of, slamming it to the floor and pinning it there with three little growths like spears out of their palm.

The creature controlling Tucker reared up off the floor, teeth bared, and Truth slammed it back down onto the floor with a foot on its neck, and once again brought their hands – one of them newly regrown – together before slamming them down onto Tucker’s blue-covered chest. The creature dissolved into the air with a wail like an infant, peeling away from Tucker in bits and pieces, leaving just the man behind.

“No-!” He rasped, free hand rising in an attempt to grab at the disintegrating bits of biological matter, and Ed came back to himself with a snap. Fury subsumed his shock, and he fisted their hands in Tucker’s shirt, clenching them tight with the cresting rage before the tidal wave broke over him and he lifted one fist to bring it crashing back down into Tucker’s face. It was packed with enough power to split the skin over Tucker’s cheekbone, and Ed distantly thought he ought to be surprised by that, but he wasn’t. This wasn’t quite his body anymore. It was theirs, Ed’s and Truth’s, and Truth’s body was flexible. Truth’s body could be shaped to pack one hell of a punch.

Some part of Ed wanted to shout, to call Tucker every awful name under the sun, but he was too furious for words. Furious that even though it had tried to make him eat his own daughter, Tucker had still been more concerned about losing his fucking research opportunity or whatever than his own child. Furious that he hadn’t even had the strength of will to stop the thing possessing him from trying to eat Nina. Furious that Ed’s mum, who had done that, who had fought that hard just for him, was dead, while this man got to live. Furious that he was only alive because he’d forced Ed to condemn another ignorant child to an eternal prison to save lives that Tucker had endangered in the first place.

Something caught hold of their wrist, and they whipped around to see round, blank white eyes staring at them from out of a cream-yellow face surrounded by rust-red tendrils, a handful of which were wound tight about Ed and Truth’s wrist. “St-top.” The creature possessing Nina said. Sorrow so acute it felt like agony welled up in Ed and Truth in tandem, and even though it felt awful, Ed didn’t protest when Truth brought their hands together one more time. “Stop. Don’t- h-hurt Da-ddy.”

Shit, stop! Ed shouted, managing to freeze their hands inches away from the creature’s shoulders.

We can’t just- Truth began, frustration welling up inside it and throwing them, once again, out of sync. Ed made a distracted mental note to work on that.

Do babies of your species even understand the concept of dads? Ed thought furiously, and Truth faltered. With a surge of triumph, Ed shoved his way forward, not-so-politely requesting that Truth back the fuck down. Truth went with nothing more than a grumble, retreating into Ed’s skin and leaving him more or less in control of his own body again. “Nina?” Ed asked softly, and the creatures eyes seemed to widen slightly.

“Ed-ward-?” The thing that both was and wasn’t Nina asked.

“Yeah.” Ed confirmed, mustering up a smile from somewhere. “Yeah, it’s me, Nina.”

“Ni-na…” The thing said, head tipping sideways, confused. Ed’s heart hurt. “Nina wa-ants… Don’t h-hurt Da-addy. Big bro-ther. P-ple-ease?”

“Okay.” Ed choked out. “Okay, I promise. I won’t- I won’t hurt your dad. Nina, I swear.” He rambled, tentatively reaching out and touching the side of the creature’s face, of Nina’s face. The texture of the thing’s not-skin was nauseating. Slick and smooth and warm, trying just a bit too hard to feel like flesh, so all it really felt like was wrong. It let out a sigh, and slumped, head drooping and tendrils unwinding from Ed’s wrist. “Hey, Nina?” Ed asked softly. “Do you think- do you think your new… friend could- could go back inside, now?”

Not-Nina lifted their head again to look at him. “In-side?” They asked.

Truth helpfully bubbled out over one arm for Ed to show them, and then sank slowly back under the skin. “Like that, see?” Ed offered. Slowly, without a word, the other one mimicked Truth, disappearing in patches as it figured out how to pull itself inward and tuck itself away inside a human host. He almost wanted to laugh, because maybe he couldn’t have helped all of them, but at least this time he wasn’t going to have to hurt a child.

Nina sat there, swaying and blinking blearily for a moment before she squinted up at Ed. “Big brother?” She asked in broken little whisper that was still worlds more comforting than the broken, rough stammer of the thing inside her. Ed pulled her into a tight hug that she returned with equal fervour, and he screwed his eyes shut when he felt her shake with little, hiccuping sobs.

“I’m sorry, Nina.” Ed breathed. “I’m so sorry. You’re okay. It’s okay.” He promised, even though he wasn’t entirely sure it was. His little litany of reassurance faltered, though, when he felt Nina go stiff as a board in his arms. He drew back, wary, afraid that the thing possessing her was going to try and take over again, but no, Nina still looked like herself. She was staring blankly over Ed’s shoulder with eyes gone wide and a face so pale Ed was worried she was going to pass out.

He looked around to see what had put that look on her face, and froze as well. The whole lab was splattered with blood and gore, and there, lying like a macabre centerpiece in the middle of the floor, was the mangled, headless remains of Alexander’s corpse.

Nina screamed.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #Venom AU #Edward Elric #Nina Tucker #Nina Tucker lives #Alexander does not #sorry not sorry #Shou Tucker #TW: dead babies #TW: possession #TW: reproductive slavery #TW: dead dog #I don't know if there's a better or more common term for that #TW: cannibalism #lemme know if I forgot to warn for something #this chapter is a horror show #so I might very easily have missed something

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