#i feel so defeated. i feel so. inhuman sometimes almost

[puppiedogs]

hello, my birthday is in three days and my work has kept me on leave for two months and sent me an email on tuesday telling me they could bring me back bc workflow had gone up and to confirm my return within 24 hours, then responded to my reply email acknowledging this and accepting the offer on wednesday, telling me that actually workflow has decreased again and they will not in fact need me back

unemployment has been fucking me around the entire time, approving me for benefits and then denying all of the actual payments for some reason they are not telling me no matter how many times i call

if any of y’all would like to help me out, i know life is hard and awful for like, most people right now, so no pressure, but my birthday is on sunday and the anniversary of my cat’s death is two days later and then the anniversary of my dad’s death is six days after that, so if you are inclined to feel sympathy toward american idol-style sob stories, i think i qualify pretty well!!

p@yp@l - here you go

c@sh@pp - here you go also as well

if you want me to write somethin for you in exchange just shoot me a message and we’ll work something out, i have nothing but time and i’ll be honest crying and feeling sorry for myself isn’t how i love to spend my days <333

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another appointment. The routine is both reassuring and defeating. That you have to devote so much time to sitting in one place having your blood cleansed just to function feels inhumane, almost oppressive. Yet those three or four hours also feel like an escape, an excuse to just be there and focus on a book or some work or even just close your eyes.

That day, you have an important report to get through. You find yourself fidgeting and tugging against the IV. You really can’t be late with this. You’re in budget season and your supervisor is on a Teams rampage. If she could stop messaging for two seconds, you might actually get something done.

The time passes in a dash. Louise brings you back to the present as she removes the tube from your arm and confirms your next appointment for Sunday. Not exactly how you like to spend your weekend but you don’t have anything else going on. Sometimes it feels like your condition is your entire existence.

You pack up, yawning. You’re impossibly tired. You didn’t sleep much and your blood pressure tends to dip at the end. You lift your bag and sling it over your shoulder, stifling another yawn as you say goodbye to the receptions and head out into the hall.

The building is mostly quiet. The businesses all operate on an appointment basis and walk-ins are uncommon. The jeweller near the back of the place never seems to be open but that day, the door is open and you hear voices coming from within. You keep your steps light as you pass, trying not to disturb the conversation.

“That’s a real Rolex, bud,” a man snorts, “your loss.”

You hit the wall with your shoulder as you dodge the body that emerges from the jeweller, the door snapping at his back. You cling to your bag and back up, blinking at the man who crowds you. Your chest sinks, no, not him.

It had been two weeks since your run-in with the stranger and maybe foolishly, you thought you’d dodged him for good. You press yourself against the plastic and sputter dumbly. You look down the hall towards the stairs.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you utter and go to slip by. 

You’re stopped as his arm stretches across the narrow hall and blocks you, his other hand on his hip, “hey, you again,” he intones, adding your name on the end.

You back up and cross your arms. There’s no alternative route out of here, he’s got you trapped.

“Pete,” he pats his chest, “you remember, don’t you, dolly?”

You flutter your lashes and look at your fitbit, trying to imply your rush.

“Er, no,” you lie, “sorry, I have somewhere to be–”

“No, no, I know you remember me,” he insists, keeping his arm in place, “you helped me find that wellness hoo haa whatever. Real con artists, those ones.”

“Sorry, I don’t–”

“I get it, you’re shy,” he chuckles, “you don’t gotta be. I’m a nice guy.” He looms over you, “how about I walk you to your train?”

You look up at him and he winks, the stubble of an ungrown goatee trims his jaw and mouth, “no thanks.”

You try to step to the other side and he quickly pens you in again. “Hey, hey, come on, I owe you. You were so helpful last time, how about a drink?”

“Uh, I don’t drink,” you touch the outside of your jacket pocket, feeling the shape of your phone, “really, it’s fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“So you do remember,” he smirks.

“N– look, I…” your head is swirling, you just want to get to the station and get on the train. Once you sit down, you’ll mellow out, “it’s a nice gesture but I’m not… I’m not interested.”

“Hmm,” he still doesn’t budge and his eyes flick up, scanning the wall behind you. “Oh, man, you’re here for that?”

“What, I–”

“Dialysis. Tough shit,” he sighs, “never would’ve guessed. Must be hard.”

“I don’t– I need to catch my train-”

“I got a car,” he offers, “so if you want a ride–”

You swallow as your neck itches with heat. You want him to get out of your way. You don’t like the way he’s got you trapped or how he seems to assume to know you.

“No, thank you,” you enunciate clearly, “please, I need to go.”

“Alright,” he puts his hands up, “like I said, I’ll walk you. Make sure you get there safe–”

“I don’t need you to do that,” you ring the strap of your bag and his gaze focuses on the gesture until you stop yourself.

“I make you nervous, sweetie?”

You don’t know what to say. You feel like you’re going to boil over. He’s frustrating and constantly changing the subject, never quite responding to what you’re actually saying. You swallow your breath and hold it in. You’re going.

You put your elbow out and jab it into his stomach as you force your way past him. You quickly scurry by as he grunts in surprise and you hurry towards the stairs, pushing through the door as he calls after you. You ignore him as the metal door clangs shut in your stead.

You catch yourself against the top of the railing and hear a cackle from the other side of the wall. He’s laughing. At you. Well, you don’t think he’s very funny. In fact, he’s a bit scary.

[dudadragneel]

Aaaand the second one! This one is an original of mine!

Based on the audio and scenes from Over Drive with Mackenyu. (Minutes 56:00 and 1:21:00 for those interested)

HECTIC LIFE

The end of the year was by far the most packed time of the year for K-pop idols. There were a lot of back-to-back performances, most of the time 2, 3, 4 days in a row, even more. A lot of these took part in different countries, which meant different time zones and of course, no rest.

They could be in Korea one day for a performance, finish this performance, and go straight to the airport to go to another country for another one. Inhumane is not enough to describe this hectic schedule.

Some of these events were MAMA, Gayo Daejeon, Gayo Daejejeon, Gayo Daechukje, you name it.

It was hectic and exhausting but it also had some of the best performances from all the groups, which meant fans were both angry at the packed schedules and excited for the performances.

Stray Kids had already performed in Korea, went to Japan, then Hong Kong, and now back to Korea, to say they were tired was an understatement.

They were now scheduled to perform at MAMA and the nerves were up to the roof. MAMA was known to not work properly in a lot of ways, awards, cameras, and stages, sometimes it felt like something went wrong every single time. Wanting to know if they would win an award and if everything would work out, just added to their nervousness.

Getting to the venue, they were all dressed beautifully, earning defeating screams from STAYs and blinding flashes all around.

They would pose with a smile or a serious face, but no matter what, Lee Know's expression just wasn't normal.

Even before leaving the dorm, Lee Know was already feeling weird, tired, and more nervous than he thought. There was an eerie feeling lingering in his mind, telling him something would go wrong today.

At first, they went to the gallery for the first part of the awards, where all the fans could see them and they could watch the other idols' performances.

While the others were clearly enjoying the performances, Lee Knows was a bit restless but still tried to jump in with the others, knowing that his strange actions would catch the attention of the fans and the members.

They would perform towards the end and that was almost killing him, he wasn't feeling his best and he just wanted to get this performance done with and rest in the dressing room or go back to the dorms.

Halfway into the ceremony, that eerie feeling had gotten a little stronger and more present, he felt his chest tightening as if he couldn't breathe properly. Anxiety? He didn't know, but he needed to get away from all this and try to recollect himself.

- Hyung.

He said leaning towards Chan. Usually during these ceremonies, they needed to ask the staff to leave the area, for safety reasons.

- What?

- I need to go to the restroom.

- Okay.

Chan called one of the staff, so they could accompany Lee Know. He didn't really want that, he needed space, especially because if something happened the staff would let the members and their own staff know as well. And despite feeling weird and unwell, he still didn't want to disappoint STAYs and not perform.

He left with the staff following him and the walk to the restroom made his apparent anxiety a little worse. And he could only hope the staff didn't notice his increasingly rapid breathing.

Getting to the restroom he locked the door behind him and went to the sink.

He looked at his complexion in the mirror and noticed he was a little pale and starting to sweat. But that was not his concern at the moment, he needed to calm down before he started to hyperventilate.

He grabbed the edges of the sink, closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing. He tried mimicking what Chan did with him once when he had a panic attack because of his acrophobia.

He counted inside his head, trying to match his breathing to the tempo Chan taught him. It took a few minutes, which worried him that the members would notice and question him, but it worked.

However, after this, he noticed he was a little more sweaty than before and his makeup was mostly gone, and getting back to where the others were like that, would raise suspicion and worry the fans.

He gently wiped the sweat off his face, got out of the restroom and, asked for his staff to touch up his makeup before returning and hoped they wouldn't notice anything. And they didn't, thankfully.

He got back to the others and they didn't ask him anything either so he thought he was safe but little did he know Chan had already picked up on his strange behavior since earlier.

Another hour into the ceremony, they had won an award and Lee Know shivered at the thought of going on stage before the performance. He sucked it up and proudly walked on stage with the member, trying to keep his face as natural as possible, and gave a brief speech of acceptance.

After this, there would be one performance, then it was their turn so they went to the dressing room. And that's when the eerie feeling Lee Know felt earlier completely settled in.

They were all hyped, going over the choreo, getting their makeup done, hair, and clothing, mentally and physically preparing for a 9-10 minute non-stop performance. It was no easy task even when they were in top condition, let alone when they weren't feeling well like Lee Know was.

The dressing room was full of people, with the members and staff altogether. As Lee Know was getting dressed, he started to feel off again, but this time it was stronger.

The eerie feeling from before, which made him have a mild anxiety attack, now came back as a strong wave of nausea. His stomach was flipping and turning and he could feel something creeping up his chest. He was going to be sick.

He quickly finished getting dressed and left the room without anyone noticing. Once he was out of that crowded and stuffy dressing room, the nausea grew stronger, as if his body knew he was alone and wanted to get everything out. He darted off to the bathroom when he felt something hit the back of his throat. Some people in the hallway noticed him but he didn't care, he just needed to get to the bathroom and pray no one else was there, the last thing he needed was someone hearing him being sick.

Thankfully the bathroom was empty, he entered one of the stalls and locked the door behind him, as he bent over the toilet, hands on the wall for support. He squeezed his eyes and tried breathing deeply, he knew it wouldn't matter but even so, he also knew that getting sick right now could jeopardize his performance in a few minutes.

He only managed to control it for a few seconds, and then his stomach jumped and contracted, making him lurch forward as he threw up the food he had earlier.

Back in the dressing room, the boys were almost all ready so Chan was checking if everything was in place and everyone had their outfits and makeup done, and then he noticed Lee Know wasn't there, and his instincts told him something was definitely wrong, like he suspected earlier.

- Kids, has anyone seen Lee Know?

- No. But I think he left a few minutes ago.

- Okay. I'll go look for him, the rest of you finish getting ready, we're up in a few.

- Okay, hyung!

Chan left the dressing room to look for Lee Know, but he knew exactly where his dongsaeng was, so he went straight to the bathroom.

Getting there, he moved to the one stall that was locked and he heard a rather loud retch coming from inside then something hitting the water in the toilet. Just like he suspected, Lee Know was sick.

Chan wanted to get in there and help his dongsaeng but if he dealt with it alone until now, it meant he didn't want to show this side of him, at least not today. As a leader and hyung, he knew that trying to reach out to Lee Know could have the opposite result and get the boy even more worked up.

So he just stood by the door, listening as Lee Know retched and gagged up another strong wave. Chan couldn't help but grimace a little and make the decision of not helping him. He could only hope Lee Know would be able to perform like he knew he wanted, and that nothing happened on stage.

Chan went back to the dressing room and was immediately questioned about Lee Know, and he only gave a lame excuse and said he was just in the bathroom and coming back to get ready.

Back in the bathroom, Lee Know was feeling like his stomach still had a lot to get rid of. He was still in the same position, bent over the toilet, spitting out saliva, only waiting for the next wave, which came eventually.

As liquid hit the back of his throat, a foul taste took over his mouth and immediately came out, mixing with the putrid mess inside the toilet. He knew that it was getting close to the time of the performance so he needed to recollect himself and head back to the dressing room. He spat out one more time before flushing the toilet and then straightened his back and took deep breaths, trying to control himself and his stomach.

He finally calmed himself down and walked out of the stall to rinse his mouth and look in the mirror if his clothes had any vomit on them. Thankfully everything was clean, his expression looked tired but he still had to get his makeup done which would help hide it a bit.

He headed back to the dressing room and just like Chan, said he was only in the bathroom. He sat on the chair to get his makeup done.

Everyone was ready, only the final touch-ups, and headed to the stage. Ash they were lined up, Chan made sure everyone was good to go and then went to Lee Know.

- Hey, you good?

- Yeah. I'm fine.

- Okay, then. STRAY KIDS ALL AROUND THE WORLD, YOU MAKE STRAY KIDS STAY.

Chan yelled to get their spirits up and entered the stage.

The screams from the fans were deafening but incredibly encouraging and for a brief moment, Lee Knows forgot how he was feeling and started the performance.

He sang and danced like he was on his best day while being one of his worst so far. A few minutes into the performance, Lee Know felt tired and weird, his stomach was jumping, flipping around, and hurting with each movement, and thought he wouldn't be able to finish the performance.

At one point in choreography, he kneeled and Chan was right in front of him and mouthed.

- Are you okay?

Lee Know just nodded, whatever strength he had left he needed to store to finish everything and get out of there.

Throughout the rest of the performance, Lee Know couldn't quite hide his painful expressions anymore but danced and sang through his discomfort, and Chan glued his eyes on him, preparing for anything that could happen.

By the end, Lee Know was exhausted, he didn't know how he was still standing or how he hadn't thrown up yet. He kept his composure until the moment the lights were out, that's when his exhaustion took over him.

He would've fallen on the ground if Chan didn't catch him on time. The older boy tried helping him to his feet but he had lost all strength in his legs, so Chan basically carried him out, followed by six worried kids.

Once they were backstage, Lee Know felt something rush up his chest and broke away from Chan's hold, he knew he was gonna vomit and he wanted to get away from him, to not risk it getting on him.

He stumbled to a walk and leaned on it as a thick stream of vomit gushed out of him hitting the ground with a sickening sound and startling everyone.

- Minho-ah!

Chan ran to his dongsaeng's side quickly holding him as the boy swayed when another wave came out.

- That's it, get everything out, hyung is right here.

Chan was Lee Know's only hyung in the group and his warm presence always allowed him to act like a dongsaeng, it always broke his walls.

Chan started rubbing Lee Know's back and chest to help the boy get through another round of vomiting, the boys watching back with worried eyes.

- Chan-hyung, what's wrong with him?

- I don't know exactly but he's been acting off since we left the dorm and I caught him vomiting when we were getting dressed. I didnt-

He was interrupted by the sound of retching coming from Lee Knows as his stomach contracted bringing up more putrid liquid, arching his back painfully.

- Keep going, Minho-ah. You're doing good.

After this wave, Lee Know was feeling ten times more exhausted than before, his breathing was still erratic and his vision was getting blurry and dark.

He tried to deal with this on his own all day, containing every need to call his hyung, even when he really wanted him by his side and now that he was, he felt completely worn out.

- Hyung....I really don't feel well...

He said, leaning most of his weight on Chan before fainting, the oldest managing to hold him and gently guiding him to the ground and laying him on the ground.

- Can someone get the medical staff? Quickly!

Chan ordered and the staff quickly scattered to find them, while the boys stood nearby, with worried faces.

- Why didn't he tell us?

- You know how he is. Just like me, he doesn't want to show, he prefers to deal with things on his own. I knew but didn't tell you out of respect for him. Not my best decision as a leader.

The medical staff came and checked his vitals, his heartbeat was still fast but mainly due to the performance and his blood pressure was a bit lower than normal.

- We need to move him to the dressing room, he might need an IV.

- Alright.

Chan picked him up on his back and took him to the dressing room, followed by the staff and the members.

The staff stretched out a mattress on the ground for Lee Know and Chan carefully settled him there. The medical staff lifted his legs up, so his blood would flow back and started prepping the IV.

- How many times did he vomit?

- For all I can tell, twice.

- Okay. We'll put him on IV fluids just for precaution that he might be a little dehydrated and exhausted. It might've been a case of overwork and anxiety, I don't think it's a bug or anything since he doesn't have a fever.

- Alright. What should we do?

The leader asked.

- Just let him rest. He shouldn't move for a while, I'd advise a little break but that's a decision for your doctor and the company.

- Thank you.

As they were talking, Lee Know's senses started to come back, and as a common symptom of fainting, he felt incredibly nauseous all of a sudden. He was barely awake when he gagged, catching the attention of the members and medical staff.

- Turn him to his side.

Chan helped the staff move Lee Know so he wouldn't choke as he threw up a thin stream of vomit mixed with bile, Chan rubbing his back and keeping still.

Lee Know coughed a few times and another tiny wave came out.

He was still getting back to his senses, trying to understand what was happening and who were all these people, he was so confused he reached out to his safe place, Chan.

- Hyung....what's going on?

He asked weakly, looking at the access on his arm and holding Chan's shirt.

- You don't remember?

- It's kind of fuzzy...

- You threw up as soon as you came off stage and then passed out. The medical staff said it might've been a case of overwork and anxiety. They put you in IV fluids because you might be dehydrated.

- I'm sorry...I'm sorry for worrying you...

- Don't apologize. I noticed but I figured you wouldn't want anyone to see you like this.

- Sorry...

- Stop apologizing. But what were you feeling exactly?

- I don't know...I just felt weird when we left the dorms...like, something would go wrong. When we were watching the performances, I felt unwell, it felt like a panic attack and then before going on stage, my stomach felt off.

- Then it might've been exhaustion.

- Hyung, we'll stay here with you for a bit before we leave for the gallery again.

Changbin said smiling and kneeling beside Lee Know

- Thanks...

- How are you feeling?

'm tired...and really nauseous...

- Do you wanna puke again?

- Not now...

Lee Know closed his eyes to try to recollect himself, his heartbeat was back to normal as well as his breathing, but his stomach was still in turmoil.

The other members took this time to take a breather and Changbin stood by Lee Know's side and gave him a massage on his neck to try to relax his hyung.

- Woah... This feels good...thanks Changbin-ah...

- you're welcome, hyung.

Lee Know enjoyed the massage as much as he could before he started feeling nauseous again.

- Changbin-ah, can you help me up?

- Sure.

Changbin put his arms under Lee Know's gently helped him sit up and stood behind him keeping him steady.

- Hyung, are you gonna throw up?

- Maybe...

- Can someone pass me a bucket?

- Here.

Chan brought the bucket and placed it in front of Lee Know. Now that he was conscious, he didn't want to be sick anymore, even though everyone knew he was sick, he still didn't want to show.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, focusing on Changbin who was still massaging his nape. He suppressed a gag and started swallowing convulsively, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white, his mouth went numb and his eyes were watery.

- Hyung, if you need to be sick just go ahead. No one will judge you. We are all family here.

Changbin started rubbing Lee Know's back up and down trying to relax him and stimulate him, but he was still fighting the urge. Chan noticed it and talked to the others, telling them to back away and focus on other stuff, while he moved to Lee Know's side blocking him from the others' view.

- Hey, hey. Hyung's right here, okay? No one is seeing you.

Changbin kept on rubbing his back while Chan stood by his side, blocking the view and keeping a firm hand on his shoulder.

The motion of rubbing his back from his lower back to his shoulder blades seemed to have stimulated him enough as he leaned a bit forward letting out a wet burp. Chan decided to grab the bucket and get it a little closer to Lee Know, who let out one more wet burp that was immediately followed by a gag that brought up more of his stomach's content.

Changbin was still rubbing his back while he puked up another wave of putrid liquid, the stench starting to fill the room.

- That's it, hyung.

Changbin reassured.

Lee Know took a couple of deep breaths but his stomach was on a mission to make him feel miserable and made him lurch forward, his back arching painfully.

- Oh god.

Chan said as he and Changbin held Lee Know firmly, steadying him so he wouldn't fall over.

He lurched forward one more time, ducking his head on the bucket, Chan decided to hold his dongsaeng's bangs out of the way as Changbin pat his back to help him vomit whatever got stuck in his throat.

After another round came up and then he was left dry heaving, face pale and sweaty and his skin felt clammy to the touch as Chan noticed. He also noticed Lee Know was panting again, his chest heaving up and down.

- Hyung...it's hard to breathe...

He said weakly, his expression was clearly uncomfortable and his difficulty breathing was evident.

- Let's get you out of this clothes. They are too tight. Can you stand for a while? Just so we can change your clothes? Hyung and Changbin will hold you.

- Thanks hyung...

Chan and Changbin put their arms around Lee Know and slowly propped him up and made sure he wasn't dizzy before moving him to a more secluded place. Lee Know had a scar on his abdomen that he didn't like showing around, only the members saw it and out of respect Chan decided to take him somewhere else to change clothes.

Lee Know's legs were like jelly, he could barely put any strength on them, so Chan and Changbin were basically caring him. When they were out of view, Chan started to help Lee Know undress and Changbin stood behind ready hold him in case he felt faint again.

- Raise your arms.

Chan helped him out put on a loose shirt, he was sure those tight clothing were doing more harm than good, and some sweatpants. But all the movement upset his stomach again. Damn it, he just didn't seem to be able to take a break today. But this time he was so tired he couldn't even warn them about it and just lurched forward as his stomach continued on its mission to empty itself.

- Oh!

- S-sorry-.

- No no, it's okay. Don't worry about it.

Chan said as he held him steady. He didn't have much left other then stomach fluids and the last bit of what seemed to be last week's food.

- Let's get you on the couch. You need to lay down or you'll faint again.

They did the same and guided Lee Know to the couch, carefully laying him down and covering him. The medical staff checked his vitals one more time, they were mostly normal, except for his blood pressure which was still low, so they kept him in IV fluids for the time being.

And then it was time for the others to go back to the gallery to watch the rest of the ceremony and hopefully win other awards.

- Minho-ah, try to rest okay? We'll come back soon and go home, okay?

- Okay...thanks hyung...

Thankfully they had really awesome managers and they stayed with Lee Know when the others left. They helped Lee Know as he got sick a few more times before basically passing out.

The group did win other awards and upon getting to the stage to get the award and make a speech, they knew everyone would noticed the absence of a member.

So Chan took the responsibility of explaining what happened without much details, saying Lee Know felt unwell after the performance and was resting and that he was happy to get the award.

The ceremony was finally over and the members rushed to the dressing room to check on Lee Know and the managers explained he vomited a few times and then was knocked out.

They changed their clothes and gathered everything so they could leave the venue and get Lee Know home so he could properly rest.

The company later issued a statement explaining Lee Know's absence on stage at the end of the ceremony and announcing he'd take a little break to fully recover.

He didnt like to miss out on any schedules, especially performances but he was thankful for his hyung and his dongsaengs who took care of him during the week he was recovering.

[tvseries-writings]

Road Trip VIII

Road trip masterlist

Wandanat x Bioquake x reader (Bobbi x reader platonic!)

TW: blood

Summary of previous chapters: When Nat, Wanda, Daisy, Jemma and reader have an accident, reader is injured so badly that Jemma and Wanda must combine science and magic to save her with only one side effect...special healing powers that allow to project the injuries onto someone else but at a high price. What happens when the girls find out what this “high price” consist in?

Silence invades the room since you told them the truth about the tests. You had hoped that lie would last at least a couple of weeks, but instead it hadn't even lasted a day. Jemma looks at the papers in her hands, barely holding back tears and quickly shaking her head.

They say there are five stages of grief. And even if that is not their mourning, not yet at least, each of them, knowing the truth, is going through at least one of those stages.

Jemma is facing denial, rereading again and again those words that are incomprehensible to you but which Fitz has diligently summarized for you, as if by doing so he can find a permanent solution to your situation that you can accept.


"No, no, there must be something we can do...if you don't use your powers then, maybe-"

Daisy paces back and forth across the room, making her shake just barely, almost imperceptibly to anyone who doesn't know her. Daisy is incredulous, bewildered by a revelation of such magnitude.

"This is not your choice, all right? I wanted to tell you because I was forced to," you cast a glare at Daisy before continuing to speak, "and you have no say in the matter, get over it."

You know you've been hard on them, you know it and you see it in their looks but it's for their own good and for your own sanity. No one banned them from using their powers, even when they were hurting them so they have no right to ban you...not if you can save lives. You could even heal cancer with your powers, how can they not understand that.


"You may be right, sometimes our powers hurt us but we don't sign a death warrant every time we use them detka." Wanda takes a few steps toward you but you back away, shaking your head.
"I could save who knows how many lives, I...you are special, you always have been, by your powers or your qualities and now I too will finally feel useful in something" "Even if it means your death y/n? Because that's what we're talking about, you can't deny it and each of us is all too aware of it; do you realize that if you keep using these strange and dangerous new powers, you'll only destroy yourself until there's nothing left of you?"

Natasha struggles to keep the fear from seeping into her voice but you know her, you know she is only scared and afraid of how far your recklessness may take you this time.

You look away, unable to sustain the former widow's sharp but concerned gaze.


"I'm aware of that Nat, I know I'm signing my own death warrant but if it will help even one person then I'll be more than happy to take the risk."

"This is bullshit! Are we really going to allow her to do something like this? This is stupid and dangerous. You're committing suicide y/n and I can't stand by and watch you do it, at the cost of stopping you by force."

Daisy raises her arm toward you, she doesn't know why either but hopes to stop this madness even though both you and she know she would never hurt you. In fact, after a few seconds in which you all remain silent, the inhuman lowers her arm with a defeated air.


"Please love, please...we would not survive without you."

Daisy lets tears line her cheeks as she collapses to her knees, repeatedly shaking her head, "you can't choose to leave us if you have the option to not to, please..."

Your heart breaks and your body moves before you can stop it. You kneel next to her and hug her, kissing her cheek and whispering that it will be okay even though you know it is a promise you cannot keep. Wanda approaches you and joins the embrace, Jemma follows her while Nat remains motionless, just a few steps away from you. She would like to join but the pain she is feeling right now prevents her from doing so.


"Nat" Wanda whispers, turning toward her lifelong companion, inciting the redhead to join but the latter shakes her head.
"Please" you look up, mimicking the word with your lips, and she resists for a few seconds before complying with your request. This warm squeeze is supposed to be for Daisy but actually, if you have to be honest, you think it serves all of you.

You don't know how long you stay like this but when you speak again, your mouth is dry and your voice trembles.
"I'll...I'll be careful, I'll only use them when I think it's necessary okay?"

The girls nod, not what they wanted to hear but they know they won't get anything else from you.
"All right but first I want to do some tests and many, many blood tests so I suggest you prepare yourself psychologically."

You huff dramatically and hide in Wanda's arms.

"Wands save me" you whimper and Nat pats you on the butt shaking his head.
"I don't think you're going to get off that easy" "No no, Jemma is right and in fact, we'll help her hold you down for as long as detka" Wanda leaves a kiss on your temple and smiles when you let out another whimper.
"If you're going to have your way at least you have to suffer a little" Daisy sticks her tongue out at you and you kick her on the shin which makes her pout and massage the injured area.

"I hate you" "No you don't" "No you don't...I hate you very much."

"Y/N!"

.................................................................................

During the next three weeks Jemma doesn't give you a break and Bobbi certainly doesn't help. You have pitted arms and think you're missing a lot of blood after all the blood draws the biochemist forced on you. Just like she's doing today.


"Stop it Bobbi, that's the third one today..please."

You sigh, shaking your head and withdrawing your arm from the blonde's hands and almost injuring yourself with the needle.
"Y/n! Be careful or you'll hurt yourself."

Bobbi removes her gloves and places them, along with the syringe, on the small table to your right.

"I know you hate all these rockstar withdrawals and I know how terrible you are as a patient but-"

Your phone rings and as soon as it does, you immediately recognize the ringtone.
"Director Fury, tell me."

Bobbi watches you throughout the entire call, trying to figure out what your boss is telling you but can't. She has never been good at reading other people's emotions, let alone their looks.

"All right director, no problem. We'll leave right away."

You end the call, putting the phone back in your pocket and getting up from the infirmary bed. A dizziness forces you to sit back down and Bobbi snaps toward you, grabbing your arm to keep you from falling to the floor.

"Hey hey, easy. I just took a liter of blood from you, I don't think it's a great idea to get up so fast without even drinking your juice."

Bobbi hands you the juice and watches you carefully as you drink it all so as not to infuriate her.

"Can I get up now boss?"

A smile of defiance paints your face and the spy rolls his eyes, nodding his head to give you permission.


"What did Fury tell you?"

Bobbi tosses the used syringe and gloves into the trash can, but continues to watch you out of the corner of her eye to make sure that once you're on your feet you don't get hit with dizziness again. 
"We have a mission and we need to leave right away, it's a 084."

"Origin unknown..." Bobbi whispers and you nod. You both know that code all too well, as does Daisy.
"We need to warn the others and move now."

You head for the infirmary exit but Bobbi blocks you.
"You can't go on the mission, Fitz hasn't finished designing the electricity absorber for your neural connections yet and if anything goes wrong Jemma would kill me, non-" "Bobs, I know. It's going to be okay okay? I promise. Now get ready, I'm going to call the others."

When you finally find them, they are all four ( or almost) engaged in a violent, but also deeply exciting, sparring session.

Natasha is on top of Daisy, pushing her against the mat beneath them while Wanda and Jemma watch them on the sidelines with mischievous smiles on their faces.
"Do you give up Agent Johnson?" "Forget it Romanoff."

It takes Daisy a couple of tries before she gets the better of Nat and knocks the redhead to the ground, holding her hands above her head and legs apart.

That sight makes you hot, but as soon as you remember the real reason you came after them, to your regret, you interrupt the little scene before you.

"As much as I hate to interrupt you...Fury called me, we need to leave immediately for a mission. It's about an 084."

Daisy untangles herself from Nat's grip and looks at you with a look you've never seen on her before.
"When do we leave?"

………………..………………………..…………………………….

In less than four hours, 084 turns out to be much more "known" than expected, and you, Daisy, Bobbi find yourselves tied, in a cold, dreary gray cell, to each other, because of a white, misogynistic, and, above all, psychopathic Nazi asshole.


"I remembered you dead."

You spit on the floor; the mix of saliva and blood settles inches from his designer leather shoes.

You cast a glance at Daisy and Bobbi. The former is still unconscious but the rise and fall of her chest indicate that she is still alive while the blonde is awake and struggling against the handcuffs as she watches that being torture you helplessly.


"Oh my dear, you know how we Hydra people are...when you cut off one head two more pop up."

Whitehall smiles; a crooked, sick smile so sadistic it makes you cringe, even if you don't show it.
"Although it's been years, I see you still use the same jokes. Old age is looming eh? Indeed, since you ran out of your beauty serum, quite a few wrinkles have appeared."

Another fist crashes against your jaw and is so hard that your head snaps to the side and more blood joins the blood from before on the floor. Whitehall wipes his hand on a handkerchief taken from the pocket of the ivory jacket he is wearing.

He shakes his head, smiles at you and grabs your face with his right hand, cupping your chin between his index finger and thumb so hard you think he might shatter it. Despite his age, the asshole still has a lot of strength.

As long as he takes it out on you and leaves Daisy and Bobbi alone, though, he's more than okay. At least until Nat, Wanda and Jemma come to your rescue. Knowing them, they will already be hot on your trail.


"Now tell me agent y/n, where is the journal that S.H.I.E.L.D. seized from me?"

Whitehall grazes your cheek with the scalpel, causing a small cut that makes Bobbi wiggle even more from her restraints; you know that look, she's telling you not to pull too hard.

"For the umpteenth time, you Nazi prick, I don't even know what you're talking about!"

Blood drips from your nose, probably broken considering the throbbing pain. Obviously you know what he's talking about, it's no secret that S.H.I.E.L.D. came into possession of the red journal inside of which were engraved the super-soldier activation words but I doubt that a Hydra bigwig would need it so badly that he would kidnap three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

Daisy lets out a groan as she slowly opens her eyes and you freeze, aware that Whitehall will now focus all energy on her.

And to think he only managed to capture you with a sedative in the form of gas...uh, Nazis, those assholes never change.

"You Americans are so stupid...the red diary, from Hydra. Seems obvious to me."

Whitehall cracks a smile before carving you one more time with the scalpel only this time, the cut is deeper and all too close to your carotid vein and Daisy, who has just woken up and recovered from the sedative, as soon as she sees how you are reduced struggles against the handcuffs and yells at Whitehall to stop.

"The destroyer of worlds...glad you could join us in this pleasant reunion."

He turns away from you, focusing on Daisy. The Inhuman tries to activate her powers but can't, the collar on her neck prevents her from doing so, and the Hydra scientist smiles as he sees her tenacity.


"Daisy Johnson, Quake, the Destroyer of Worlds, many names but without powers you are nothing."

Whitehall approaches one of your soulmates, and when he injects something into her neck, you can't see anymore and the handcuffs become completely useless against the rage you're feeling and the fear that whatever that was inside that damn syringe might cause Daisy harm.

It all happens quickly; Whitehall reaches down and grabs you by the chin again and then uses that same hand to dab the blood that suddenly comes out of the wound in his neck-the exact same wound he gave you that is now gone from your skin and transferred to his. The blood from your nose comes out even faster and more copiously so that your head starts to spin but you can still make out a smile on that psychopath's face.

"Ha Ha, I knew the rumors were true, and a little water injected into one of your lovers gave me the confirmation I was looking for. What amazing powers, the gift of healing and destruction as sides of the same coin."

Whitehall shakes his head while continuing to smile as he takes his handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs the blood coming from your nose; not that it has much effect since the bleeding is due to your powers.
"I look forward to experimenting on you, my dear. It will be painful but you know, breakthroughs require experimentation."

He turns to the two energetic men on either side of the door, the only way out of that room, and motions for them to take you away.


"Pick her up and take her to the room. I'll prepare for operations; we must start now. Science does not wait!"

Bobbi watches intently, and as soon as Whitehall and one of his two henchmen emerge from the gray and far too brightly lit cell in which they are keeping you locked up, the handcuffs that held her bound fall to the floor. The sound the handcuffs make as they hit the floor makes Igor the enforcer turn toward the blond spy. Bobbi picks up the chair to which she was tied and smashes it over the giant's head, and within seconds the latter falls unconscious to the floor before he even realizes what is happening.

You observe your surroundings without really doing so. Your head is spinning and the nosebleed still doesn't seem to have stopped; in fact, you don't know if it has; you are so dazed that you don't realize it. Passively, you watch Bobbi untie Daisy and then pick up the gun that the giant idiot dropped after being stunned. And then, as Daisy approaches you and Bobbi unties you, you feel yourself return to the reality around you. At least in part.

"Hey, look at me, are you okay?"

Daisy takes your face in her hands, tearing off a piece of her shirt and dabbing at your nose to the best of her ability.

Bobbi keeps her gun pointed at the door as her spy skills take over, though that doesn't keep her from checking you out with her eyes every few seconds. After all, she is one of your closest friends and she cares a lot about you.
"You're an idiot, you shouldn't have used your powers for me."
"You would have done the same for me Dee," you whisper, concentrating on focusing on her face and straining to pronounce the words correctly. Daisy does not respond and merely looks at you, continuing to hold the now blood-soaked piece of her T-shirt under your nose.

"Shit Bobbi, it won't stop bleeding. What should I do?"

Bobbi continues to watch the door as she kneels down to slip something metallic from her right boot before tossing it to Daisy.
"This is the neural connection stabilizer that Fitz designed, it's only a prototype but it should help. Besides, it's not like we have much choice right now sestra."

Bobbi shoots you a look, startled by how out of it you seem and lacking connection to reality. Daisy applies two electrodes to the sides of your temples, attaching them to the thick and particularly heavy iron headband at the back of your neck, and then, as soon as she presses the power button Bobbi points to her, the pain suddenly fades and your head stops spinning considerably, the same way the blood stops going down.


"How I love Fitz," you smile, shaking your head just barely to try to ward off even the dazzling nausea that unfortunately has not yet gone away.
"Yeah well, don't push it, we don't know how much it holds and I'm not about to find out y/n" Daisy gives you a warning look before helping you to your feet. You sway dangerously to the side as the world tilts but Daisy keeps you firmly anchored to herself, giving you a concerned look. It takes a few seconds before you stabilize.


"I just feel a little dizzy, that's all. I'm okay Dee."
"Yeah, sure, you're okay...if you're okay, I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

You roll your eyes and snort, giving Daisy a gentle nudge and realizing only then that the Inhuman is still wearing the collar that blocks her powers.

"Bobbi, can we get it off without hurting her?"

You turn to the blonde, and when the latter shakes her head, you tighten your lips, thinking how much you'd like to put a good bullet through Whitehall's skull.

Noises outside the door alarm you and you waste no time in grabbing a broken chair leg to use as a weapon.
"Oh, that's scary."
"Better this than air."

You stick your tongue out at Daisy, and for a few seconds you think you are safe, perhaps on the couch, sitting between the women you love most in the world as you watch a few movies on one of your movie nights.

Then, three gunshots cause you to take a defensive stance, putting yourself in front of Daisy to protect her just as the door to the closed cell you are in is smashed open and falls to the floor with a thud.

Bobbi doesn't lose sight of the entrance, but when she recognizes the silhouette of the person standing in the knocked-down doorway, a smile breaks out on her face and her shoulders relax as she lowers her gun.
"Did I step on your moment?"

Natasha smiles and runs toward you and Daisy, squeezing you in a hug before exchanging a pat on the back with Bobbi.

"Good entrance Romanoff, I see you still like to show off."
"Oh Morse, you know me well. My ego comes first."

Natasha presses the earpiece she has in your ear, looking at both you and Daisy relieved to see that you are both okay albeit with a few bruises and some blood.
"Jem, Wands...yes, I found them, they are fine. Whitehall escaped but we will find him."

...............................................................…………..

The journey to the Zephyr is silent, methodical and full of bullets lodged in the heads of Hydra soldiers. When you arrive on board, you are greeted by a warm, smothering embrace from Jemma and Wanda, and even Bobbi cannot escape it. And then, as was bound to happen, Jemma drags all three of you to the infirmary.

"Come on Jem, I'm fine. Really." you grumble as the biochemist wipes the crusted blood off your face, ignoring your protests.
"You're not fine, you used your powers and you shouldn't have. It was stupid and reckless, so let me do my job."
"That lunatic injected who knows what into Daisy, I couldn't stand by and do nothing Jemma! You would have done the same. All of you would have, don't lie."

Jemma shakes her head, casting a glance at Daisy before moving to the front of her crib.

"Oh, don't start with me. Think y/n."

Daisy gives you a dirty look, one of those that a brother gives his sister after the latter has ratted you out, and you amiably show her your middle finger. You two really love each other only you have a strange way of showing it, that's all.

The biochemist tilts the Inhuman's head, looking closely at the tiny little hole the syringe has left in Daisy's skin.

As Jemma drains Daisy with at least two vials of blood, you approach Bobbi and brush her arm with your hand.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You whisper and Bobbi nods, sighing so softly you almost heard it.

"You went too far, it could have been bad," the blonde whispers and clenches her jaw. You look away, doing anything to avoid meeting her eyes," she could have killed you and I couldn't have done anything about it. Do you understand that y/n? You cannot jeopardize your life like this...your life is not worth less than my life or Diaisy's life."

You shake your head and flinch away from Bobbi, drawing the attention of the other two girls in the room.
"I had no choice, you know how fixated Whitehall is on Daisy and her mother!"

Bobbi remains silent, she probably would have done the same thing in your place but the fear she felt at almost losing her best friend a few hours earlier still grips her stomach.

"Y/n, Bobbi is right. My life isn't worth more than yours and I don't want you to do shit like that ever again."

Daisy gets off the crib and walks over to you, taking your hands between her own and drawing circles on your skin.


"Yeah, I'd say we have enough stubborn, reckless people in this relationship already."

Natasha says, entering the infirmary at that moment. Behind her, Wanda crosses your gaze, turning a small smile.
"Honestly-and happily-I still don't know how you are all unharmed considering you never think before you do anything."

Jemma shakes her head and emphasizes a sigh of exasperation to let you know how much you stress her out.

You smile and the tension that seemed to hover in the room before quickly dissipates. Jemma picks up the tablet next to the crib Daisy was on, looking at the results that the fast S.H.I.E.L.D. machines have sent her.

"Well, then Dee looks like Whitehall was telling the truth. I don't know if it was water but it didn't alter any of your values so at the moment I'm satisfied...Not that you're safe from any future tests in the days to come, let's be clear."

Daisy snorts and Wanda hugs her to comfort her, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. After Jemma finishes observing your test results, the biochemist clears Bobbi for any substantial damage, simply giving her a palliative for a nasty bruise on her shoulder, and then, after long and careful consideration, decides it is time to remove Fitz's device.

She has you lie on the crib, though your protests are anything but feeble, and then hooks you up to a million machines. Heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, CO2--everything.
"Bobbi come here, Wanda stand by in case your intervention is needed."

You feel like that crib is your bedside, with all the people you love around you and wires poking out of your body everywhere. Jemma lifts up your shirt, gluing the two electrodes one above your left breast and the other under your right armpit.
"Oh Jem, I don't think we should do this right now," you whisper, pretending to be scandalized as Jemma pats you on the shoulder. The whispered word "idiot" and the laughter that follows make your heart warm.

Daisy, Wanda, and Natasha remain silent as they watch Jemma slowly and carefully detach the electrodes on your temples, also slipping off the iron tube behind your neck.


"How do you feel?" Bobbi says, watching the monitors and checking your vitals, noting a gradual increase in your heart rate.
"Simmons, heart rate 95 and BP 130/85 and rising."

Jemma runs to one of the drawers; you can't quite make out her movements or the faces of your girls despite the fact that they are inches away from you. Your vision is blurry and you're pretty sure your nose has started bleeding again and profusely too, considering the concern-laden tones of voice of the girls around you.
"Shit y/n, stay awake," Bobbi says to you, slapping your face a couple of times when she sees you squint.

Natasha is dabbing your nose with all the paper she can find, and her face contorts more and more from worry with each blood-soaked handkerchief she throws on the floor. And then, in the general chaos, while Jemma is injecting you with drugs for hypertension and to try to lower your heart rate, Daisy does the only thing that makes sense to her: she takes the electricity absorber and puts it on you in the exact same way it was just moments before. And everything disappears, your vitals return to normal and stable, and the nosebleed stops.

In your regained lucidity, you rub your suit sleeve under your nose, trying to get the crusted blood away.

"Well, Fitz really did a good job."

A small smile curls your lips as Jemma leaves a kiss on your cheek, breathing a sigh of relief.
"You're going to kill me one of these days, really. And anyway, you're going to stay on this crib until I'm sure you're okay, and we've got to find a solution to this," the biochemist taps you a couple of times against Fitz's jaw-dropping invention.
"We'll probably force you to stay there for life, considering the heart attacks you're giving us" Wanda giggles, wiping away tears she hadn't been able to hold back.

"I agree" Natasha leans over, leaving a kiss on your lips and being immediately followed by Daisy.
"Not bad for an agent without a degree, is it?"
"You're an idiot."

"Daisy Johnson, you know you're not just a stupid piece of paper to us. You don't-" "Jeem, I was joking. Chill."

You shake your head as Jemma continues to rail at a poor, helpless inhuman who nevertheless deserves every single word the biochemist is saying. Ah, they are so cute when they bicker. You love them.

Thanks for reading! I know it's been a long time but hey, at least it's a very long chapter come on. Comment, share and tell me what you think. If you want to support me, this is my ko-fi link☕️ and as always: have a great day!

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[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 20) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 20

“Sorry about the clothes,” Spinner says as the two of you walk down the front steps of the hospital. “Himiko picked them out.”

“It’s fine,” you say. As long as you have clothes that aren’t bloodstained and torn to pieces, you don’t care what you look like. You’re just glad to be headed home.

Nobody exited the near-apocalyptic conjurer fight in good shape, but some of you were worse off than the others. Nemuri was almost blasted apart trying to defeat the giant, and although she survived it, collecting the shreds of her essence back together is apparently a slow process. Keigo took a pretty sizeable hit protecting the kids, while Aizawa had to deal with a beastlike Nomu chewing the hell out of his leg before Hizashi blew its head off. But you and Tomura were by far the worse off. You’ve been in the hospital for two days. Tomura will be in for another three at least.

Most ghosts are healthy when they permanently embody themselves, but apparently it’s different for ghosts who use their own conjurers to do it. Tomura is starvation-level thin, with severe contact allergies to almost every type of medical equipment in the hospital, and the injuries he got from the fight and the rescue from the world between were bad enough to land him in the ICU at least temporarily. They had to put him in an induced coma, too. He’s had meltdowns or panic attacks or some kind of fit every time he’s woken up.

“He’ll bounce back quickly,” Mr. Yagi assured you when he came to visit. “I did.”

That was how you learned that Mr. Yagi embodied himself from his conjurer, too – except she gave him permission to do it, when she realized she was going to die of cancer anyway. Mr. Yagi’s permanent embodiment involves chronic issues with his lungs and his stomach, all of which you’re familiar with after working as his assistant for years. Chronic, but manageable. Sometimes over the past two days, it’s seemed like Tomura’s allergic to the entire human world.

Spinner told you that permanent embodiment creates complications, but you didn’t realize just how severe those complications would be. There’s no legal record of Tomura’s existence. He doesn’t have ID or health records or health insurance. There’s no next of kin who’s empowered to make decisions for him while he’s under heavy sedation, dead to the world. Hizashi’s working overtime to forge some kind of documentation for him. The doctors have been hinting that they won’t release him without it. Legally, you don’t have any right to be involved in or updated on Tomura’s medical condition, but he managed to identify you as somebody important before he went under, which means you get a little more information than you would have gotten otherwise. The doctors have been referring to you as his girlfriend. Apparently he called you his human.

Tomura might not have a next of kin, you do, and the doctors called your parents when you were too doped up on painkillers to stop them. You managed to talk them down from coming to visit, mostly by lying and then promising that they can come visit you soon. The last thing you need is for them to come here right now. Things are too chaotic. It’s hard to think that anything normal will ever happen again.

Like today. Jin and Spinner are picking you up from the hospital and driving you home to a house that, for the first time since it was built, doesn’t have a ghost in it.

When you and Spinner make it down the steps, Jin’s idling the van near the curb with Atsuhiro snoozing in the back row. Jin bursts out laughing at the sight of you, ignoring Spinner hissing at him to shut up. “No wonder Himiko wouldn’t let me see what she picked! Ready to get out of here?”

“Yes.” That’s not quite true, though. The sharp pain in your chest as the hospital vanishes around a curve in the highway tells you that you’d rather have stayed until Tomura could come with you.

You’ve been there, the few times they’ve tried waking him up. He’s promptly freaked out each time, and while your presence settles him a bit, the fact that he’s now in a human body, experiencing the world as a human does, is way more than you can calm him down from. Luckily for you and Tomura, the embodied ghosts stepped in to help. Since last night, there’s been one of them stationed in his room at all times, ready to corral him, ready to explain, so nothing else in his hospital room goes up in dust. Tomura lost a lot of his ghostly powers, but he’s still got more than enough left to raise hell.

You don’t want to leave him there. You want to stay there until he wakes up for good, and not leave until you can bring him home. But your health insurance won’t pay for more than the two nights you already spent in the hospital, and you have a bad feeling about who’s going to be on the hook for Tomura’s hospital bill. You have to go home. You’ll be back to visit tomorrow after work, but tonight you have to go home.

“How did he look?” Spinner asks Jin. Spinner came to get you, while Jin brought Magne for her shift in Tomura’s room. “You saw him, right?”

“He looks like hell.”

“He looks like he’s looked the entire time,” Atsuhiro says sleepily from the back row. Then, to you: “They mentioned removing the feeding tube in two days. His body is burning calories rapidly, and if he doesn’t have enough in reserve, he’ll have a heart attack when he starts moving around.”

“Great,” you mumble. “Did he wake up at all?”

“Not perceptibly to the staff,” Atsuhiro says. Ghost stuff. Again. “I was able to tell him that you were being released today.”

You sort of wish Atsuhiro hadn’t done that. Tomura’s going to think you’re leaving him, and based on the conversation you had the day before things went to hell, he didn’t want to embody himself for anything less than a sure thing. You’re a sure thing. About as sure as it gets, given that you were ready to get sucked into the world between along with him rather than let him go. But he’s not going to know that until the two of you talk. And you can’t talk to him while he’s got a feeding tube down his throat.

When you left the neighborhood three nights ago, you left it in the back of an ambulance, so you didn’t get a good look at everything that happened. Now it’s daylight, and what you see isn’t pretty. A weird fog still hovers over everything. Almost every plant on the block is dead, courtesy of being flash-frozen a dozen times over, and the pavement and asphalt on your end of the street is pitted and ruptured and cracked, courtesy of the giant. Nobody’s house escaped getting knocked around a bit, but you know yours took the largest amount of damage – window smashed, porch roof caved in, fence down, yard chewed to bits – so when you get out of the car and make your way closer for a look, you’re expecting the worst.

What you’re not expecting to see is a new fence, in the process of being painted greyish blue. You’re not expecting to see Himiko and a girl you vaguely remember meeting at her birthday party painting it. And you’re definitely not expecting Izuku to pop out of absolutely nowhere, hands smeared with dirt. “Hey, you’re back! Are you okay?”

He waits long enough for you to confirm you’re not about to keel over, then pivots. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“We already told you what happened,” Spinner says. “Don’t bug her.”

“You did tell me! It was great,” Izuku says. He refocuses on you. “But you spent the most time with the conjurer, didn’t you? And you got away from him! How did you do it?”

It occurs to you, sort of suddenly, that you haven’t told anybody exactly what happened. Everybody’s clear on the important details – kidnapped by conjurer, tortured by conjurer with the intent of Nomufication, escaped, rescued by what Jin inexplicably decided to call the Vanguard Action Squad. Nobody’s asked you more until you right now. And you should probably tell somebody, just to get it on the record. “Um, it was –”

“Izuku! Leave her be,” Inko scolds, stepping out onto your front porch. You should have guessed that at least one of Izuku’s parents would be present, but you’re still surprised to see her. “I’m sorry to startle you. We were hoping to be gone by the time you got back so you’d have a quiet house.”

A quiet house. A house without Tomura in it. “It’s okay. Um – why are you here?”

“We’re helping patch things up,” Izuku says. “I’m filling in the footprints in the yard – Toga says there was a huge Nomu here – like, building-sized –”

“Bigger,” Himiko says. She looks over at the other girl, who looks worried. “I didn’t fight that one. I did lots of other fighting.”

“And Toga and Uraraka are fixing the fence,” Izuku continues. You forgot that Himiko picked out a different last name than Jin’s when she embodied herself. You’re not sure why. “Mom was keeping an eye on the guys who came to fix the window and the roof and Dad and Kacchan are in the backyard clearing out your dead plants! There are a lot of them. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it.” You step through the gate, barely avoiding putting your hand in wet paint. “The fence looks really nice, Himiko. You guys didn’t have to do this.”

“The old fence matched Tomura’s new hair. We had to fix it,” Himiko explains. “Now it matches his old hair.”

“He has new hair?” Uraraka asks.

“Yeah, it’s white now. He looks like an anime villain,” Spinner says, and Himiko giggles. “I didn’t know your fence was supposed to match your hair.”

“It’s not. That’s why we’re fixing it.”

“Thank you,” you say to Himiko and her friend. “And – thanks, Izuku. I’ll tell you about all the stuff later.”

He beams at you, then goes back to filling in a massive hole in your yard. You thank Spinner and Jin for the ride home, and Atsuhiro for sitting with Tomura, then make your way into your house. The last time you were here, you could barely walk. You were oozing blood everywhere and you were in agony, but you remember seeing Tomura on the porch and stumbling into his arms and feeling for just a moment like everything would be okay. Everything is okay. But just like Aizawa said of you being turned into a Nomu, this came at a cost – and you weren’t the one to pay.

There are a few bloodstains on the front porch steps. You collect some varnish from your hall closet and come back out to paint them over.

“My dear.” Mr. Yagi’s feet appear in your field of vision and you look up at him. He looks miserable, his mouth trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were taken from the parking lot. I knew the conjurer could be near. I knew you were in danger. And instead of ensuring your safety I allowed you to –”

“You weren’t responsible for my safety. I was,” you say. You’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped the conjurer. If he hadn’t grabbed you from the parking lot before work, he would have grabbed you when you went outside on your lunch break or when you headed home. “The bracelets you gave me helped me get away from him. I wouldn’t have escaped without them.”

Mr. Yagi looks surprised. “Is that so?”

“When he noticed them, he broke one. It released all this energy and threw him across the room. That’s how I got out. And me and the ghost who helped me escape used the other one to blow up the building we were in.”

“My master must have known he would break them,” Mr. Yagi says. He smiles slightly, sadly. “She was a master tactician. And speaking of her – I suppose it’s no longer relevant, but I brought over the notes Izuku and I took from her journals, if you’d still like to read them.”

“I’d like to.” You’ll need something to do tonight, when you’re here all alone for the first time. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit together on the steps until the varnish dries and the smell of food begins to drift out of the kitchen. You go to investigate and find that Inko’s turned your kitchen into some kind of industrial cooking facility. “This is for tonight,” she says, gesturing to a pot simmering on your stove. “I’ve made things for the next four days also. The list on the counter is a list of common food sensitivities, in case Tomura picked up anything during his embodiment. And if you have any questions about anything, please call me.”

You feel a lump growing in your throat, making it hard to swallow. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Inko says. She smiles at you. “I would have liked someone to talk to, when it was me.”

You nod a few times, manage to thank her. Then you excuse yourself to the bathroom, so she won’t see you struggling not to cry.

You’re not sure why you’re so miserable, why it’s so hard for you to hold it together as everyone heads home for the evening. The only thing that helps even slightly is when Phantom comes home, brought over by Shinsou and Hizashi, who’ve been keeping an eye on her for you. She’s so happy to see you that she leaps a full three feet off the ground and knocks you over, which hurts. You hug her close even though you can tell she’s dying to zoom ecstatically around the house and look up at Shinsou and Hizashi from the floor. “Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you.”

“That’s the closest I’m gonna get to getting a dog until I move out. It’s great,” Shinsou says. Aizawa and Eri are committed cat people, but Shinsou’s said multiple times that he likes both. “So you got out of the hospital. Are you, like – good?”

“Great,” you say. It’s a good thing you and Shinsou aren’t ghosts, because if you were, you wouldn’t have a prayer of getting away with the lie. “It’s nice to be home.”

Hizashi nods impatiently as you pick yourself up off the ground and Phantom goes tearing off to inspect the house, Shinsou in hot pursuit. He has a folder tucked under one arm, and he holds it out to you. “Here. ID and birth certificate for him. I’m working on the rest.”

The ID is right on top, complete with a photo. “How’d you get a photo of him?”

“Took it in the hospital. Fixing the background and photoshopping his eyes open was a bitch.” Hizashi looks pretty proud of himself anyway. “I made him the same age as you. He looks it at least. The birthday is an approximation of his summoning date. I couldn’t use his embodiment date. I didn’t want the doctors asking too many questions about how he had the worst birthday ever.”

“Thanks.” You inspect everything a little closer, then nearly drop the folder in shock. “Shigaraki Tomura? You gave him his conjurer’s last name?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Hizashi says. “It flows pretty nicely, right?”

You guess it does, except for the part where you’re going to think of the conjurer every time you use Tomura’s new full name. “Thank you,” you say again, uselessly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t helped.”

Hizashi looks as uncomfortable being thanked by you as you are doing the thanking. “Don’t worry about it. His shit’s a lot easier to forge than the Nomus’.”

Shinsou and Hizashi stick around for a little longer, checking out the repairs and marveling at all the food Inko cooked, then head home. You shut and lock the door behind them, and all at once you’re home alone. Just you and Phantom, like you thought it would be when you bought this place. Phantom is wandering from room to room, greeting you when she passes by but very much looking for something. Looking for Tomura.

“He’ll be home soon,” you promise her. She knows who you’re talking about. She whines. “I miss him, too.”

You feel aimless, and you feel sick. You should probably eat something. You fill a bowl from the pot Inko left on the stove and settle in on the couch to pick at it, staring at nothing if you’re not looking into the bowl itself. It tastes good, but you’ve got no desire to eat it. You eat it anyway. If you’re going to be miserable no matter what, you might as well do it on a full stomach.

Part of you thinks it’s normal to feel wrecked after everything that’s happened. You were kidnapped and tortured. You watched your ghost die in front of you nineteen times. You almost got force-fed a ghost and almost turned into a Nomu and almost watched your house be destroyed and almost killed somebody and almost lost your ghost to the world between. Only a crazy person wouldn’t be upset. But at the same time, it’s a whole lot of almost. It could have been so much worse. It almost was. What is there for you to be upset about?

Your phone rings and you pick it up just for somebody to talk to. It’s your mom. “When I called the hospital they said you’d been discharged today. Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s been a lot. I just got home.” It’s probably not good that your default is to lie to her. “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything isn’t,” your mom says severely. “I raised you. I know you. Even over the phone, I know that tone in your voice.”

“How do you know me, Mom? We barely talk. We barely talked even when I was a kid.” You shouldn’t say this. Now’s not the right time to say this, but you’ve started, and you can’t stop yourself. “Everything’s not fine, and I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you. Not with anybody! The only person I want to talk to about it is Tomura, and he’s –”

In the hospital, in an induced coma, with a feeding tube down his throat that they won’t remove for two more days. Your own throat closes up, and your mom is silent on her end of the line. You brace yourself for her to blow up at you, to talk about how you never let her in, how the distance between the two of you is your fault. Instead: “You must be really worried about Tomura,” she says. “How is he doing?”

“He’s – they think he’ll be out in three days,” you say haltingly. “It’s – it’s worse for him than it was for me. I was healthier to start with. But they said he’ll be home in three days.”

“Are you going to visit him tomorrow?”

“I want to,” you say. “I have to go back to work, too. My boss said he’d give me as much time as I need, but I need to save it for when Tomura’s home.”

“When he’s home,” your mother repeats. “You live together?”

Oops. “Yeah. For a while now.”

“So it’s serious.”

“As serious as it gets,” you say. For a moment you’re overwhelmed by the memory of clinging to his hand as the world between dragged him in, refusing to let go even if it meant you’d be pulled in, too. “I’m – this is it for me, Mom. He’s it. I’m not leaving him.”

“I would never ask you to leave him,” your mom says, surprised. You shouldn’t have said that, should have known that the weight behind it wouldn’t make sense to her. “I’m looking forward to meeting him, once the two of you have recovered from all of this. You still haven’t told me what happened.”

You haven’t told anyone. “It’s hard to explain,” you say. Your phone begins to beep again, signaling an incoming call, and your stomach lurches when you see Magne’s caller ID. “I’m getting a call from the hospital. I have to go. Sorry –”

“Go,” your mom says immediately. “I’ll call back later. I love you.”

You manage to mumble that you love her too, then end the call and accept Magne’s. “What’s happening? Is he okay?”

You hear Magne speaking to someone else, but you can’t hear what she’s saying, and then her voice is there again, right in your ear. “Tomura’s awake,” she says. “They’re trying to sedate him again, but he’s a little upset. You can imagine.”

You can imagine. “Can I talk to him?”

“That’s why I called you, honey.” Magne puts you on speaker, and you hear her voice from a distance. “You’re right by his ear. Go ahead.”

“Tomura,” you say, and you hear a strangled sound. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Nobody there wants to hurt you. They’re just trying to help.”

You imagine him arguing that it hurts anyway. Probably also that it’s not helping, and he still feels like hell. “The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can come home,” you tell him. “That’s where I am right now. Me and Phantom are waiting for you. We’ll be here when you get back. Three days, right?”

“Right,” a doctor confirms from somewhere in the offing. “The wounds are healing well. The nutritional deficiencies are the main concern now.”

“You’ll be home soon,” you promise. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow.”

He’d be protesting if he could talk. Probably saying that he’ll be asleep tomorrow if he lets them sedate him again. “I’ll be there,” you say. “You’re fun to hang out with even when you’re asleep.”

You wonder if he’ll hear what you’re calling back to – all those months ago, when you were trying to keep him out of your bedroom at night. “I love you. I’ll be there tomorrow. Tomura –”

“He’s out,” Magne tells you. She laughs quietly. “We all knew you had him wrapped around your finger, but it’s really something to see in action.”

You close your eyes. “Thanks for sitting with him. It would be harder if you weren’t.”

Magne says something about how it’s not a problem, even though it is, and you thank her again and hang up the phone. You wish you were there with Tomura in the hospital. Even if you can’t talk to him, you can hold his hand. You could get used to the warmth of his skin and the new rhythm of his pulse and the sight of his white hair, before he comes home to you for good. You finish your soup and lift Phantom into your lap. She was with you at the start of all this, before all of this. She’s the only thing right now that feels like home. She lets you hug her and licks your face a few times, and for some stupid reason, that’s when you start to cry.

[dolphin1812]

The atmospheric aspects of this chapter are really impressive; the combination of the full moon, the constant threat of being shot, and the awareness of the destroyed villages around Waterloo that are never mentioned in the context of the battle is at once spooky, tragic, and suspenseful.

As is usual when Hugo writes about Thénardier, I feel conflicted. On the one hand, Thénardier truly is despicable, so criticism of him is justified. On the other, Hugo slips into dehumanizing language that feels inflected with classism. Take this section, for instance:

“Every army has a rear-guard, and it is that which must be blamed. Bat-like creatures, half brigands and lackeys; all the sorts of vespertillos that that twilight called war engenders; wearers of uniforms, who take no part in the fighting; pretended invalids; formidable limpers; interloping sutlers, trotting along in little carts, sometimes accompanied by their wives, and stealing things which they sell again; beggars offering themselves as guides to officers; soldiers’ servants; marauders; armies on the march in days gone by,—we are not speaking of the present,—dragged all this behind them, so that in the special language they are called “stragglers.” No army, no nation, was responsible for those beings [ . . . ]”

The people doing these acts are defined either as definitively inhuman - as “bat-like creatures” - or as what they are/pretend to be (”half brigands,” “pretended invalids,” “beggars”). Not only that, they’re outside of any “army” or “nation,” further othering them (and sidestepping the issue of actual soldiers doing this, even though Hugo is aware that they do). While we know that Thénardier specifically is simply a horrible person (from his treatment of Cosette), it’s not too difficult to imagine someone else doing this out of genuine need. Given the risks of death for those following armies (Hugo says that Wellington orders that anyone caught robbing should be shot), it is precisely the most desperate who are likely to take that risk. It’s understandable that Hugo focuses on characters who’ve committed “sympathetic” crimes: Valjean is a thief, but he stole food to feed his sister’s children; Fantine’s prostitution is less sympathetic in and of itself from the perspective of a 19th-century audience, but it’s framed as a sacrifice for Cosette, which ultimately keeps her in the sympathetic role of “mother.” A large section of his readership (and who he was aiming to convince with his work) was the bourgeoisie, and he had to be attentive to the risks he was taking in justifying different acts that would be classed as immoral. Robbing the dead is certainly up there as far as reprehensible acts go, but it’s still frustrating to see Hugo neglect to extend some care to these people. Even worse, he says that “discipline” is the only thing that could change them, which feels particularly bourgeois and is so out of place in a novel about the power of compassion. As much as I hate Thénardier, the issue with this depiction is that (1), dehumanizing language is risky in general, and (2), Hugo extends this to a class of people, almost inadvertently villainizing groups within the lower classes.

I also find Pontmercy’s interaction with Thénardier so sad. Of course, it’s upsetting that he thinks he saved him when he really was just robbing him, but the extent to which he’s worn out is tangible? For instance, when Thénardier says that the English have won, Pontmercy doesn’t even react; he automatically goes to the next matter, which is compensating Thénardier. As an officer, we can assume he was dedicated to the Bonapartist cause; it’s even the first thing he asks about when he regains consciousness. The fact that he doesn’t even have the energy to mourn this defeat, then, is crushing in itself.

[transenbyconfessions]

recently discovered that i have a faunagender and..... kind of questioning if i might be therian or petre as well??? unfortunately i don't know much about either of those identities and am kind of scared to look it up bc discourse and especially identity discourse is triggering to me

like...... as far as i know faunagender and therian and petre are all different things that can sometimes have some overlap or similar features? but im not sure what "counts" for these things.

so on the therian questioning side, I'm multigender & one of my other genders is a binary one, so is it possible to have something similar where i feel like both a human and also [specific animal]? or does that defeat the purpose of therian? (also did the term therian come from otherkin?? sorry if that's insensitive im just not fully sure what's what and ive heard more about otherkin than therians) like i describe myself as a non-binary [binary gender] bc im Both. so would saying "therian human" be similar?? or... or is that just not therian at that point

and, on the petre questioning side. my partner (agere, gender is specifically Boy but not Male) sometimes will call me like, his "little [specific animal]" and similar things and when i get overwhelmed and lose speech (autism) i get kind of snappy and it's almost like i can feel the animal ears flattening agitatedly on my head. i like to burrow and squeak and click with my mouth especially in a way that feels... little? like wanting to be cared for in the same way a beloved animal is? like wanting to be cooed at and fed berries and pet and just curl up on someone's lap as a little creature. and like i know it's tied to my autism & my gender and it sounds a lot like how my partner feels abt being agere (including tying into his gender) except it's about being a [specific animal] instead of being a young boy. i dunno i just. is that what that is?

like i really love being referred to as a creature or an animal and especially much if it's the specific animal i have a gender about, but i kind of wonder if that could even possibly be therian if i still like being referred to as a person.... then again i did start crying bc i was so moved when one of my favorite inhuman (but humanoid) blorbos that i relate to a lot got a motivational speech where he got told he was a "normal [his species]" instead of "normal person" in an otherwise very typical speech (speech didn't promote being normal as in regular, it was one of those "you're just some guy so live your life however you want" types, it was very nice to hear for me specifically)... auh idk. anyone relate to this at least??

Submitted February 17, 2023

[goodbyenorthernlights]

It's been a while since I read the book but iirc- well, the Archduke is an amputee and his prosthetic hands are, as you say, a metaphor, and highlighted a lot as being creepy and inhuman. Which isn't very nice when actual amputees who wear prosthetics exist.

Similarly (though again working off memory) the Necromancer is blind, due to a congenital issue where he was born without eyes. And the Necromancer in general is written as very... outside of humanity? He's almost like an evil spirit in the way he lives and the way other characters react to him, and he has a noticeable "darkness" motif which his blindness ties into.

I read the book at a time when I was particularly sensitive to this kind of thing, so if I'd read it two, four, etc. years prior it's possible this wouldn't be something that I would have noticed or been bothered by, but it hit me around the time I'd gotten hyperfixated on a blind character from a different franchise, which means I'd been thinking a lot about disability in stories and how it gets treated in plot devices.

(If you're interested in more like, general criticism of the disabled villain trope, here's a relatively short video I watched around this time: link)

For the record I don't think the author was consciously writing like "Yeah, FUcK amputees and blind people, they're creepy and evil," I think he was just... Trying to write a straightforward adventure story that uses a lot of classical tropes, especially ones inspired by Shakespeare. And I think in many ways this is one of the novel's strength, it's one that is very sincere and committed to telling this classical kind of story without succumbing to the urge to be self-consciously subversive or mocking itself, but it also means some more Problematic(TM) tropes slip through without really being examined.

I'm not against people writing disabled villains at all, or having their disability be more than an incidental trait, but I do think it's something people ought to be very, very, very careful about doing. When the only disabled characters in a story are the creepy villains, it sends a message, intentional or not!

This, in fact, can be broadly expanded to most marginalized groups- if the only black characters in your story are violent thugs, then you're sending the message "(I think) black people are violent thugs." If the only woman in your story is somebody's shrewish girlfriend, you wind up sending the message "(I think) women are annoying and exist only in a romantic capacity." If the only Muslim character in your story is a terrorist... Y'get the idea.

Sometimes the solution is to go really in depth on the marginalized character so that they feel more like a human being than a caricature, but I don't think this would work for the Graverobber's Apprentice, which by structure and tone kind of requires the villains to be thoroughly reprehensible and terrifying.

I think if I were to try and "fix" it I'd either remove the disabled traits of the villains (the only one that's especially relevant to the actual plot is the Archduke's amputee status which serves a role in the prophecy of his defeat, and you could probably come up with some other Seemingly-Impossible-Condition) or make some of the heroic characters have their own disabilities. For example you could have Hans also be an amputee (maybe he got injured during his Moses in the Bulrushes escapade as an infant, or growing up as a grave robber- if he got an infected wound, for instance, a period-appropriate solution would have been to cut the affected limb off.)

When you have multiple disabled characters (or characters from another marginalized group) and they have a reasonable variety of personalities and roles, disability simply becomes another trait someone might have, rather than a definitive statement on what kind of person would be disabled.

Hey so ya know that post you mentioned the Grave Robber’s Apprentice a year ago? What’s ur opinion on it :3 I’d like to know (there’s no fandom around this book I’ve been able to find :()

I had to google it to refresh my memory tbh, but I do remember liking it! Nicely paced adventure story with plenty of exciting peril and stuff.

I do have a caveat that I'm not too comfy with how the villains- the Archduke and the Necromancer- are both disabled in a way that's clearly meant to be othering and offputting, and that's unfortunately one element that really stuck with me. Other than that it was one I quite enjoyed though.

[willsimpforanyone]

Hey there! Could you please write me a Natasha Romanoff X Fem!Inhuman!Reader who has Ice powers (like Elsa) OR lightning powers like Thalia Grace in Percy Jackson? Please just fluff with Nat helping R with her powers and cute nicknames 🥰. Thank you SO much 😊

ooo lightning powers would bu super cool!

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

My back hurt like hell, and I groaned as I stood up off the floor. Electricity was unpredictable, and sometimes instead of shooting forward, it propelled me back. Specifically, back into the wall of the training area, hence the painful back.

"Nat, can we please stop? I need a bath," I stretched my arms above my head, wincing at the pops and clicks that accompanied the movement. "And possibly a new spine."

Natasha rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. "Come on, five more minutes of training and I promise we can have a bath, okay?"

I raised my eyebrows. "We?"

"Oh honey," she winked. "You didn't think I'd leave you alone, did you?"

Ignoring my red cheeks, I steadied myself on my feet again, hands up, ready to give this another go. "Whatever, you just think I'm gonna lie down and never get up again."

"That is certainly part of it," Nat laughed. She walked over from the opposite wall and started adjusting my stance. Her hands were warm enough that I could feel them through my clothes, and it was all I could do not to melt into her. I almost didn't listen when she pressed her lips lightly against my ear. "Try pointing with your forefinger and middle finger, sweetheart, and supporting your arm with your other hand."

Her fingers trailed along my arms, guiding me into this new stance.

I nodded. "Okay, I'll give this a go. Step back though," I warned her. "I don't want to take you with me if I go flying back again, darling." She rolled her eyes, and I interrupted. "Yes I know you could take it, but we don't need your gorgeous red hair all spiky and smoking because your body isn't primed to deal with lightning."

Nat held her hands up in surrender, and backed away with a smirk. "We both know I'm already smoking hot, but fine."

Blowing her a kiss, I readied myself to pop the damn balloon that had been my target for two hours at this point. The hairs on my arms stood on end and tiny sparks crackled along my skin. With a deep breath, I focused on surging the energy forward and through the air.

With a sharp crack, an almost blinding light flashed from my fingertips and whipped at the balloon, popping it with a loud bang.

I whirled towards Nat with a huge smile. "I did it! I finally did it!" She opened her arms and I threw myself into them. "Thank you so much, my love, for helping me defeat the damn plastic ball of air."

She laughed. "You're welcome, beautiful." She pressed a kiss to my head. "Now we're done, and you can have your bath."

I could feel my muscles relaxing even as she said it. I pulled back slightly, my hands resting on her waist, and a wicked smile settled onto my lips. "Oh no, you said you were coming with me."

"Did I?" She grinned, and her lips just ghosted over mine. "I suppose, if you ask nicely..."

A whine came from the back of my throat. "'Tasha, c'mon, we both know I shouldn't be left alone, I can't be trusted with the appropriate amount of bubble bath liquid."

Nat laughed, but nodded, taking me by the hand and leading me out the training room, leaving only the faint smell of ozone behind.

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

i very much hope you enjoyed, thank you for being so patient!

[interlunium-opus]

Enhypen as your Best Friend: Heeseung edition

Check out other members’ versions too: Jay | Jake | Sunghoon | Sunoo | Jungwon | Ni-Ki 

Nearly impeccable in every sense possible that it is almost inhumane. Not to mention, annoying, because whatever you’re good at, chances are he’ll be able to smugly trounce you at it.

Probably because he is both a polymath and a perfectionist but boi is competitive as heck. He won’t quit until he emerges at the top, be it in vocal lessons, studies or even in Tekken/Fifa. You’re kind of like his soft spot though — he’d accept some of his defeats if it’s with you (read: some).

Combined with the fact that he’s an introvert, he can appear haughty at first but beneath those enviable skillsets, confidence and charisma, he’s actually just a massive playful dork. If he’s not honing his skills, he’s basically gaming or sleeping.

If people have movie nights, you guys have game nights. It’s usually at your place though because if it is at his, the other boys would usually just join in and disturb his so-called “quality time” with you.

Is always down for any of your midnight adventures. Whether it is just going to the playground to play the swings or have a snowball fight at 3AM. Whatever it is, he’ll be at your doorstep in no time.

“Heeseung, it’s 3AM,” Jay, Heeseung’s roommate, croaks as he was forced awake by the sound of Heeseung noisily shuffling about in the room.

“Yeah,” Heeseung answers chirpily, “It’s snowing!”

Deadpan, Jay mutters sarcastically, “Isn’t that groundbreaking?”

“____ is always excited for the first snow, I gotta get ready.”

“Gosh, you sure you’re not in love with her or something? Who goes out at 3 AM just for-“ Jay stops, sighing as this was the umpteenth time he’d said the exact same thing to Heeseung, not that Heeseung paid any attention anyway, “Whatever, just remember to lock the door and bring your keys. If you forget them, I won’t even bother to o-“ 

“Oh she’s outside! I’m going now, bye!” Heeseung says hurriedly, exiting the room with a gleeful smile across his face like that of a kid in a candy store.> As expected, like many other similar episodes previously, Heeseung’s keys lay untouched by his bedside table. Groaning, Jay plopped back to bed, “yeah, go see if I care to even open the door later.” 

((Just so you know, Jay bitterly replied to Heeseung’s text an hour and a half later when he asked to be let in with a “why don’t you stay over at _____’s? Maybe you can “make” something else other than a snowman.”))

Since you two are a pair of late sleepers who are also, most of the time, very sleep-deprived, you two would often fall asleep in one another’s company, passing out in the library while facing each other or passing out in the couch during game nights. Ni-Ki, always the mischief maker, actually has a folder full of pictures of you guys passing out which he often uses to tease you guys. “hey guys, look who slept together last night 😉” he’d text in the Enhypen group chat just to stir things up.

Can sometimes be a bit clingy after spending some time with you.

“Can’t you just stay a bit longer?” he asks, all doe-eyed as he grabs your hand, stopping you from packing up, “Just a bit longer.”

“Heeseung, stop it. It’s late. If you’re not sending her home right now, I will,” Sunghoon nags, worried about you.

“Geez mum, fine,” Heeseung grumbles sarcastically, “Let’s go then _____.”

“You know what, I’ll go with you guys,” Sunghoon suddenly say, grabbing his coat from the couch.

“Excuse me sir, I can take her home just fine,” Heeseung scoffs.

“I know you can, but I feel like you’ll just end up hanging around and overstay your time at her’s,” Sunghoon retorts, knowing full well how clingy Heeseung can be with you.

Can somehow sense it if you feel troubled over something even if you don’t say it or show it. Being naturally empathetic and sensitive, he would then take it upon himself to aid you in any way possible. If you need to vent, like a personal therapist, he would be all ears. If you’re feeling tight-lipped about your troubles, as you usually are, he’ll make sure to stick around so you won’t have to be alone with your thoughts. If it’s a situation where you can’t speak out against something, he’d take it upon himself to do it in your stead.

“Hey Jake, sorry, _____ and I have got some after club activities that we need to prepare for tomorrow so we gotta go,” Heeseung suddenly say.

“Oh that’s a shame, the party is just getting started. But anyway, yeah go ahead,” Jake replied.

“Wait we do?” you finally ask when you two got out of Jake’s house. 

Heeseung chuckles, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, “nah, I lied so we can escape. You don’t look like you’re having fun at all so I thought “let’s bail.” 

“I can bail alone though. Jake’s your best mate.”

“Nah it’s fine, I can’t let you bail alone — we’re like a pair,” he winks, “so, how about a round of Tekken?”

[thedevilsdom]

making 5000 year old virgin levi cum in his pants is SUCH a mood. a concept even. sitting on his lap and “accidentally” grinding down against him... acting all shocked and surprised when he cums and starts crying and apologizing, then casually reaching into his boxers and running your fingers through his cum and shushing him by making him clean them up... or just cooing about how much of a messy little boy he is and teasingly stroking him and overstimulating him until he’s huffing and trying to muffle his moans into your shoulder... OR not even responding at all and ending the night as if you never noticed, and he can’t help but get himself off later to the shame and humiliation and desire for u he’s left sitting alone with... so many options

ok here we fuckin go

- Leviathan/Female Reader, ~3k words, Possibly going to be continued as a multi-chap fic

Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Leviathan’s desire to show someone his interests overruled his nervousness and embarrassment every time. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about personal space or boundaries once he got you in his lap, watching as he played his game.

He’s not even really paying attention to you. You can easily tell without even looking that his eyes are flitting across the screen, tracking and locking on to whatever target he’s picked next before his fingers hurriedly press the keys on his keyboard to execute whatever super-special-mega-power-move-combo he’s got planned. Not that you’re complaining. The bright colors of the screen and the gameplay are entertaining enough, plus it’s cute to see Levi all wrapped up in his interests like this. You know that he could stand to have more people around to indulge him like you are now. It’d probably do wonders for his self esteem.

You split your time between looking at the screen, at your D.D.D, and at him. He’s dressed so casually, a graphic t-shirt and a pair of pale gray sweatpants, and a pair of Mononoke Land socks on his feet. It’s endearing how he moves underneath you, tensing up in stressful points in the match, sometimes bouncing his leg or wiggling his toes. You’re not even sure that he knows he’s doing any of it.

He wraps up his match, ending it in a close victory, but a victory nonetheless, just as he’d done in the past three matches you’d sat through. You hear him sigh and flop back against the backrest of his chair, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck. His spreads his fingers then forms a fist a few times, stretching between matches before he queues up for another. You take the lull in activity as an opportunity, your hand reaching down and stroking the outside of his thigh lightly, just to grab is attention, and he jumps in surprise underneath you.

“Heh, sorry,” You giggle, turning a little so that you can look back and see him, “I just wanted to say thank you for showing me this stuff, it’s pretty fun.”

You swear something short circuits in his head. His eyes are wide, you see his snake-like pupils dilate for a moment before returning to normal, his cheeks are immediately filled with red, his hands twitch uselessly above his keyboard. His eyes dart away from you, lips parting as he stutters out nonsense.

“Wh- I- Um- I- Y-You? Th-thank you- uh- you can play, if you want. I can queue you up for a quick play match and- um- you can play.” He says with a nervous shiver to his voice. You give him a bright, eager smile that stops his heart for just a second,

“Sure! I’ll see if I can do any of the stuff you can, though I dunno if I’ll be that good.” You tell him, watching as he clicks and sets up the queue for a quick play match for you. Your words only make him tense and heat up more.

“Oh, well, uh, that’s- I mean, that’s true, but I-I’m sure you’ll do fine!” He squeaks. You lean forward in the chair, getting your hands situated on the keyboard and mouse, getting ready for the game. Just as you think you might’ve figured out where to put your fingers, you suddenly feel Leviathan’s hand on yours,

“If you lift your palm up like this and curl your fingers a little, it makes it easier to press a different key, if you need to.” He explains. Marveling at the way he so easily maneuvers your hand into a better position, you realize that when he’s in the little realm of his interests, his nervousness just melts away. Though, you don’t bring it up, because you know that if you do, he’ll just be reduced to a stammering mess again. Instead, you give him a nod and a smile, getting ready for the game.

As the screen lights up with the ‘game found!’ screen, Leviathan puts his headphones over your head and leans over your shoulder to watch you play. You can tell that as you rapidly mash buttons and try your best to aim, there are several moments where he wants to backseat-game, but he bites his tongue and doesn’t criticize. As you play you alternate between being just a few inches from the screen, to leaning back against Levi’s chest, to almost standing up from the chair, all thinking that it’d give you a better aim.

Levi, on the other hand, was having a hard time controlling himself. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s seen this kind of scenario in so many hentai before, but he doesn’t exactly want to start taking advice from those, especially when the approval of the person he’s got a crush on is on the line. He’s just hoping that the headphones and sounds of the game are enough to hide his pathetic little whimpers as you unknowingly grind on his erect cocks. He’d never been so turned on by just a little pressure before. It’s getting harder and harder for him to think rationally, but he does know that the combination of him being in sweatpants, plus his ‘double-trouble’ issue, means that it’s going to be nearly impossible for you to not notice if he tries to shoo you out of the room.

Truth be told, you’re already well aware of the situation you’ve wound up in. You could feel something stiff pressing into your ass since the second you’d really started playing, and every little movement on your part has been intentional. You revel in every time Levi tenses up, or when his breath hitches, and in the confused floating of his hands as he tries to figure out where to put them.

When the match concludes with a draw, you let out a defeated sigh and lean back against his chest. His whole body goes rigid.

“Aww,” You huff, dropping your head back against his shoulder. “Do you wanna play? Or should I stay in control?” Your warm breath ghosts across his neck and makes him shiver. He’s struggling to keep from shifting into his demon form, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can last-

With just a little rock of your hips, you make him come undone.

He offers up a deliciously shaky gasp and his hips twitch involuntarily under your own, pushing his stiffness against your ass as sticky cum floods his boxers. You feel him shiver and shudder under you, pathetic little whines being torn from his throat, despite his attempts to keep them in. Finally, with a miserable little sob, his hips drop back down into the chair.

You don’t say a word as you stand up. Just to have his heart leap into his throat, you stay still for a second or two. He doesn’t say anything, still holding on to the hope that maybe you didn’t notice, though, that would be impossible.

His heart stops when you turn around.

Your eyes trail up and down his body. He’s pushed back into his seat, like he’d be able to disappear into it if he tried hard enough. His demon form is out, horns poking the headrest and tail flowing out through a gap in the armrest. His hands are in little fists, pulled up to his chest, and his legs are squeezed shut. Between them, at the crux, is a huge dark spot. If it weren’t for his vocal reaction, you honestly would’ve assumed he’d wet himself, based on the size of the stain alone. You glance up to his face. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated and locked onto you, and his mouth looks like he’s trying to form words, only to give up halfway through. He looks shocked and hurt.

“I’m sorry!” He chokes out just as you were about to speak. “I’m sorry I’m a gr-gross, yucky otaku who can’t-can’t control himself and I-I-I!” His eyes fill with tears, darting around the room as he panics, trying to figure out if he wants you to stay or leave.

“Shh, Levi,” You purr, leaning down over him and touching the waistband of his pants with a finger, “May I?” Eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“It-I- It’s a- a… I’m not… Not normal,” He mumbles, “Down there.”

“Oh?” To his surprise, you don’t sound disgusted or repulsed, you sound intrigued.

“You- you uh, you can, if you want.” Conceding, Levi knows that he wants this, especially if his still aching tent is anything to go by.

“Yeah, but do you, Levi?” You ask, pulling your hands back for a moment, completely willing to either give him a second to think or to turn you away, but he nearly cuts you off with an energetic nod of his head,

“Yes! I-I do want it, I want you to touch me there.” He whines.

“Good boy.”

With a smile, you hook your fingers around the waistband of his pants, pulling them down first. Underneath them is a pair of black boxers, so saturated with cum that they cling to his skin. He flushes impossibly darker, but you only give him an encouraging, pleased grin. Offering a second for him to collect himself, you hold off for just a moment before you continue, slowly taking hold of his waistband and peeling the cloth from him, pulling it down his thighs.

Your eyes are glued to his body as you reveal what he meant when he said not normal. You’d say that that is one hundred percent correct. Coming from a near reptilian vertical slit is a pair of dicks, both distinctly inhuman. They’re ridged, and a dark blue at the shaft, fading into an indigo at the tips, both absolutely dripping with cum. You pause for a moment and Levi immediately starts spiraling,

“I knew you’d think it’s weird! F-forget this, just go, you don’t have to do an-nnMPH?!”

He’s shut up by you swiping up some of his cum on your fingers and pressing them past his lips. The pads of your fingers press down on his tongue, but you don’t force them any more inside, giving him the chance to pull away- which he doesn’t take. Instead, his eyes flutter shut, tongue laving across your fingers and nursing his own cum off of them.

“There’s my good boy,” You offer a docile smile. “Poor thing just couldn’t stop himself from cumming in his boxers, hm? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted this to happen.” You take your fingers back and scoop up some more cum to feed him. In the in between, he mutters,

“N-no, I didn’t want it to happen this way, but…” Levi’s voice trails off, but you can put two and two together.

“Oh? You’ve thought about me touching you like this before?” That lights a fire inside you. “You’ve thought about being my good little boy? I always did think you’d make a good boy for me, Levi.”

“Y-You thought about- about me? Like that!?” He sounds absolutely shocked, and you giggle. “Um! I’ve uh, always- always been i-into you… Since, like, forever ago…”

That’s a confession, you suppose.

“I’ve been ‘into you’ too, Levi.” You push your dripping fingers into his mouth again. “You’re so cute, and I love seeing you get so excited about the stuff you like. I just wish you weren’t so down on yourself.” The backs of your fingers on your free hand stroke up the length of his lower cock, “I’m gonna keep calling you my good boy until you realize that that’s what you are.”

He swallows around you fingers, nodding gently so as to not shake them away. Levi gives pathetic little whimpers around your digits, suckling on them until they’re clean once again. The hand not in his mouth drifts down to his cocks, gently holding them both and slowly starting to stroke them.

“A- Ah!” He squeaks, hips twitching up into your touch. He’s so responsive, with his wide eyes and little sounds, it’s adorable. “That’s! It’s- you’re t-touching my- hhahn!”

“You have such cute reactions,” You purr, “All from me just rubbing your cocks a little bit. Has anyone ever made you feel good like this before, Levi?” You don’t necessarily tell it how it is, because you’re pretty sure that if you outright asked him if he was a virgin, or if you said ‘hasn’t anyone ever jerked you off besides yourself?’ Leviathan would pass out. Luckily though, he doesn’t, and he responds with a mute shake of his head, ‘no’.

With a couple more slow strokes, he gasps, finally allowing his hands to reach out and touch you. They wrap limply around your shoulders, pulling you down and him up, as he nuzzles into your neck to hide his face. The second his heated skin makes contact with your own he shivers.

“Fuck, you’re- I can- you smell really good…” He murmurs against you, “You smell like- like you.”

“You’ve paid attention to what I smell like, Levi?” You see a very clear opportunity to tease him, and of course you take it. “Have you thought about it? Thought about stealing my clothes out of the laundry? You already admitted that you’ve thought of me touching you, there’s no point in hiding.”

“Y-You, uh, it- I- I thought about- hnnn-“ He arches his back and pushes his face further against your neck, “Thought about t-taking your- your shirts and putting them over, uh, over my body pillows,” Leviathan’s voice is an adorable little whine. His confession only makes you want to make him break more. “And I thought about…” He trails off the last part of that sentence.

“What did you think about, Levia-chan?” Hand not stopping on his cock, your voice is a low, sultry purr.

“Y-Your- your underwear… Wanted to- press it against my- ‘n sm- agh! I can’t say it!” He shakes his head, his body shivering. He’s wracked with tremors like a little puppy learning how to walk, it’s cute.

“You wanted to smell my underwear, baby?” Your other hand pets the back of his head for a moment. “What if I take them off right now and press them up against your face? Smother you with them?

He whines, high pitched and reedy. You feel soft lips press against your neck as he gently peppers it with kisses, not really sure what to do but desperate to show you how grateful he is for this. You can feel his fangs ghost over your skin, a threat that he doesn’t even make, and his tongue darting out to lap at your neck. The vibrations of his moans and the heated huffs of breath against you draw out a warm coursing of arousal down your spine.

“Just-! Just like that, your hand is so s-soft, it feels so good, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” He babbles, interrupted by moans and quick kisses and kitten licks to your skin.

“Is my little Leviathan gonna cum all over my hands?” Deciding not to be too cruel, when he nods his head and whines, you don’t stop jerking him off. “Good, good boy. I want you to cum for me.”

His hips fuck into your hand uncontrollably, rutting and desperate as you feel his thighs quake and his lip tremble against the nape of your neck. His hands grasp blindly at your back, holding onto you as he fucks your fist. His breath hitches again and again, half said segments of words falling from his lips until you hear him go silent for just a split second-

Then he wails.

Leviathan’s voice is high and broken and needy as he finally hits his orgasm, cum spilling out between you, gushing and flooding your hand as his hips shakily thrust forward, fucking his cum into your fist. He hiccups and sobs, riding out his orgasm before slumping back into his seat, though still keeping his head nuzzled into your neck.

Only you don’t stop. Tormenting him with the pleasure filled pain of overstimulation, you keep stroking your cum slicked fist on his cocks. He gasps,

“Ah-hah?! I-I already-! I just came, why’re you- hhah!” Leviathan’s whole body trembles, hips twitching, out of his control. You hum, your movements and tone almost bored, as though you were doing anything other than getting an extremely reactive demon off. “Too much, too much! It- it h-hurts!” Tears spill down his cheeks while he sobs. “Pl-please, pleasepleaseplease-!”

“Please what, Levi?” You’re surprise that he isn’t trying to get away from you, instead mostly staying put while his hips twitch. “Do you want me to stop? All you have to do is ask.”

“Nnn-no! no, no, it’s- ghh- it’s a lot, but- fuck,” All the words he tries to get out are ruined by the tremble in his voice and the rattling of his sobs that shake his whole body. “Gonna cum again, pleeeease, can I c-cum again?”

“Take whatever you need, baby.”

That’s all the permission he needs. He falls headlong into another orgasm, crying and sobbing into your shoulder as the intense pleasure overtakes him and dots swim in his vision, more cum pouring out of his cocks and dirtying your hand.

You- ever caring and careful- let him calm down against you. Leviathan shakes and trembles, breath hitching against your shoulder as hot tears roll down his flushed cheeks.

“You okay, baby boy?” You say, keeping any teasing out of your voice. He mumbles out a little response and nods shyly against you. “Good, take all the time you need, that was really intense.”

With a few deep breaths, he calms down enough to pull away, wiping at his face with the sleeves of his jacket. Just when he thought he might be able to face you, his eyes drift down and he spots the flood of cum that he’d produced.

“You did so good for me,” You lean forward and press your cum soaked fingers to his lips again, letting him suckle on them, giving him something to do.

“I didn’t do anything.” He mumbles.

“Of course you did,” Your fingers press down gently on his tongue, admonishing him, “You and your body are both so honest with me, thank you for letting me play with you, Levi.” He just sighs around your fingers.

You stay in his room for a little while afterwards, resuming your hanging out as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, once you’d both gotten cleaned up. Watching anime and playing video games until it was late in the night, and only then did you bid Levi goodnight and head off to your own room, wondering how this night was going to affect things between the two of you.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Momma is a badass?

Fandom: DC Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Batmom!reader (in the background) Word count: 1.4k Summary: Your Children don’t know about a big part of your past, but when the situation calls for it, they find out, one way or anotherm Requested by a hydrated Anon: since the request are kinda open. Can i request something where batmom was a former suicide squad member, now dating batman and the batkids dont know? Maybe they are in a dangerous fight against someone and the suicide squad helps them? only if this is okay for you. No pressure or something. Stay hydrated love

Your children knew that you were a great fighter, one that could hold herself against Bruce easily, and they knew that you had been a vigilante long before you had met their father and fallen into the more domestic role of a part-time event-organizer and a full-time momma at day and a crime fighter at night. Sometimes they had tried to ask you and Bruce about what you had done for the most of your early adulthood, but they never found out anything about what happened between your 18th and 25th birthday. A few of them - mostly Tim, Steph and Damian - had thought about finding out the old-fashioned way, but everytime they seriously considered it they remembered that not once since you had taken them in as your children have you breached their privacy without a very, very good reason. So they quickly started to forget about it again and face their own problems. What none of your children had expected was that that blank on your resume was going to be filled on what was supposed to be an easy mission in Gotham’s Docks. You and Bruce were the ones who went, Tim on the Comms, only to find that three of the most dangerous and violent - but in themselves alone relatively small - crime families had “bonded” together to defeat the one thing that kept them from ‘rising to their true size’: Your family. The two of you were good, years of beating and defeating big baddies have shown so much, but not even the two of you were good enough to defeat the small army that was attacking you now. Under the hail of bullets that were raining down on you, a few of them hitting your body armour, but luckily not you, you barely managed to dive for cover behind a metal pillar. Looking over you were relieved to find Bruce behind cover too, seemingly not hurt. He nodded at you, most likely having the same thoughts about you, before talking to you and Tim over the Comms. “Red, we need everyone here asap, this is at least a code blue situation.” “Code blue? I thought this was just a quick in-and-out,” Tim asked surprised. “Just do it, no time to explain,” Bruce grunted as he threw a Batarang at a particularly bold individual that tried to break his cover, disarming him quickly and knocking him unconscious. “I contacted everyone, Nightwing and Red Hood are on their way, ETA is at least ten minute. Robin is preparing and will be there in five. Oracle is going to take over the Comms as soon as she’s online from her homebase and then I’ll hurry over with Black Bat. The others will try to come, but are indispensable at the moment,” Tim informed you and you could hear the almost inhumane quick tapping of his keyboard in the background. Before you had the chance to answer you noticed the small circular object rolling towards you and just almost managed to kick it away and shield yourself with your cape. “We don’t have enough time to wait for all of them!” you shouted over the sound of another explosion and when you looked over at Bruce you almost saw the internal conversation, “They’re on a mission not far from here, they could be here in five minutes.” “Who are you talking about?” Tim asked, but you and your husband just ignored him. “Do it!” Bruce said after he had to dive for a new cover when the pillar he was standing behind got damaged by another granate. Not waiting another second you pulled out a small button that was protected by a glass hood. You clicked the glass hood off and pushed the button, a little relief flooding you when you saw the blinking light below it implicate that the signal was received. Now you just had to survive long enough for your help to arrive. Tim and Cassandra, closely followed by Damian, arrived shortly after, but even with the five of you, you weren’t remotely able to do more than hold yourself against the seemingly never ending attack that got worse with every minute. When you heard the flapping of a chopper somewhere above you, you could have wept with joy, but soon got pulled back into reality when a bigger explosion rang through your ears and debris from the newly bombed open roof missed you by literal inches. After making sure neither your husband, not your children were hurt badly, you looked up to find that the chopper was not the one you had hoped for when you were looking directly into the barrel of a bomb launcher. The thought of retreating filled your mind, but before you could suggest, you saw the opposing chopper blow up in a haze of fire before a very familiar crazy laugh filled your ears - even if it was still half a mile or so away. More explosions rang through the enemy lines and the shift in power was immediately feelable. You had just won the upper hand. Five ropes were lowered around you and soon after you found yourself surrounded by your former team - or rather one version of it, the suicide squad never really being one to keep stagnate. “Did ‘ya miss us sugar?” Harley crackled as she fell around your neck, hugging you with one arm while the other was occupied with shooting an enemy that had been charging at the six of you. “You wouldn’t believe how much,” you smiled and - after quickly greeting the rest of the team - got back to fighting. Dick and Jason joined the fight shortly before the end - before your win - and were surprised by the people who were fighting in such a harmony with their mother that it looked like they had been fighting with you for years, but with the fight still going on they had little time to care about it too much. The twelve of you together had an easy time fighting against the gangs and it only took a few minutes more before you left unconscious, dead (the suicide squad had no no-killing rule after all) and tied up gang members for the police to lock up. The squad's chopper had been severely damaged during the fight so the five went with you to a second-emergency base on the outskirts of Gotham to wait for Waller to send them a pick-up, leaving you with a bit of time to catch up with your old mates. While you were laughing and talking to Harley, Rick, Floyd, Digger and Tatsu like you were old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while, Bruce standing a few feet behind you - keeping up his grim persona, but not stopping you from interacting with the (mostly) villains - your children were at the other side of the room completely dumbfounded at the way their mother was acting.

“Remember that time Waller almost blew up your head because you thought it was a good idea to play pranks in the base?” you asked laughing, the others joining you. “Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know she’d react to a bit of water like that,” Dagger shrugged, but smiled at the memory. “Can’t believe it’s been so long already since I left, it feels like yesterday I almost cut your eyes out,” you smiled - you much like Katana not having been there as a criminal, but rather as a guard yourself. “Hey, if you want back, we’d gladly take you in, I still think Waller considered planting a bomb in your head just so that you would come back and bring some order back,” Rick shrugged, but you just shook your head. “Thank you, but no thank you, I have a life here now. Also I don’t think Hubby would like that too much,” you giggled a little and blew a kiss at Bruce, who responded only with a stern nod in an interaction that your children would have usually found hilarious if they weren’t so occupied with staring. “Ya’know sugah, Ah love attention, Ah really do, but even Ah get uncomfortable if dah little batlings keep on starin’ like tha’,” Harley nudged your shoulder and nodded into the direction of your children. “Oh, don’t mind my little ones, they just didn’t know about my time at the suicide squad,” you shrugged, well aware that you were going to have a lot to explain later on.

[americasmarauders]

What about ....

“i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession

Followed with tentative kisses in the dark

With Jason Todd x reader ❤❤❤❤❤

Lots of love xoxo

did this get completly out of hand? yes, yes it did. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but suddenly I had 12 pages of angst ready to make their way into the world. 

I’m so sorry it took so long, elle, life got in my way, but now you have like, 6k+ words to make up for it. I really hope you like it.

warnings: completly unedited, sorry for the typos :))

words: 6,856

masterlist #

#

Aged 14, sometime in September.

Mason Anderson was the biggest dick she had ever met. He was petty and jealous and he picked on her just because. She just wanted peace, quietly resolving  the homework she had spent an entire week working on. The library was empty, safe for a couple of other students when he barged in and robbed her of her papers. 

He claimed he needed it more than her, he was the one almost flunking out of the class. She demanded her homework back, but he ran towards the boy’s bathroom with her work. It wasn’t the first time that sullen feeling of despair had been planted on her by Mason Anderson, it still didn’t make it any easier. 

She sat in front of the boys bathroom, hugging her knees in an attempt to find comfort. She kept thinking that she could do it again, she had done it once, theoretically it would be faster to do it a second time. Light footsteps echoed through the hall, her eyes found their way to the source of the noise. 

Jason Todd was a tiny kid with a big brain and an even bigger heart. He had helped her with English more times than she cared to admit. Sometimes she would see him walking towards the alley near the Academy, holding an extra package of chips to the little kid that stayed there sometimes. She liked Jason Todd, considering him the only alley she had inside the cold walls of the Gotham Academy. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, delicately, sitting beside her. “I thought you were gonna finish Statam’s paper today.”

“Mason Anderson stole it,” her eyes were cast downwards, looking at the seams of the floor with an almost inhuman interest. “He wanted to copy it, and I wouldn’t let him so he decided to flush down the toilet instead.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to her, sitting next to her on the floor. 

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, stretching her legs in front of her. “I just,” she sighed, trying to find the words, “I spent one week working on that, and I really needed the grade, you know? But he just didn’t care, he just thought of himself.”

Jason looked at her, softly. His eyes held a certain fire behind them, something she could never really describe what it was. It was entrancing, it calmed the pace of her heart.  He didn’t say anything before getting up and marching towards the boys bathroom. 

She didn’t hear anything going on inside, her mind imagining all sorts of scenarios where Jason would emerge from the bathroom beaten and defeated, Mason walking out completely victorious, with a shiny top grade Literature paper in hand. Her blood boiled at the image, more so than it did before. She got up from the ground, determined to help Jason win the fight, even if her papers were already down the plumbing. 

But the door flung open, her friend walking out calmly, clutching her homework delicately. He offered her a smile, and as the door closed behind Jason she could see Mason on the ground gripping his nose in pain. 

“Here,” the papers were completely dry to the touch, her confusion deepening. “He was copyin’ it.”

“I can’t believe you got this back,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought… I thought I'd have to redo it.”

“Nah,” he smiled shyly, “I would’ve helped ya.”

“I can’t really depend on you for everything, Jason,” she replied politely. “It’s not fair.”

“I got your back,” he affirmed, “ya don’t need to worry.”

And it meant the world to her that he did. 

#

#

Aged 16, October 12th. 

Jason Todd and her became friends after the Mason Anderson incident. She didn’t know what Jason had said to him, what had he done, all she knew was that Mason never bothered her again after that. 

It was the night of her 16th birthday. It was late, probably past 3 in the morning when Jason carefully landed on the fire escape that led to her bedroom. He carefully carried a small box, wrapped neatly with a blue bow. He had chosen the gift lovingly, his heart warm with her. Jason hadn’t expected her to be such an integral part of his life, but just as quietly as she arrived, she placed herself in his heart permanently. She was his friend, true friend, she didn’t expect anything other than his company and support, something he was glad to provide. 

His knuckles lightly grazed her window, making the softest noise.  Her shades were partially open, he could see her body lying comfortably on her bed. She moved slightly, her body turning towards the window. Her hands rubbed her eyes delicately, seeing Jason smile awkwardly at her. She got up and dragged her feet towards him, opening her window to him. 

“What’re you doing here?” her voice was slurred, intoxicated with sleep. 

“You know, you should really lock your windows,” he commented, “Gotham’s a dangerous city.”

“Jay,” she warned, “what’re you doing here? It’s…”she searched for her clock, “fuck, 3 in the morning.”

“It’s your birthday,” he responded clearly, as if it was the most obvious reason why he was on her fire escape, on a cold October night only wearing a light jacket.

She blinked at his blunt response, confused on what to say to him. “You’ll see me tomorrow, Jay, I don’t understand why’d you come all this way just to see me.”

“Because it’s you,” he shrugged, stepping into her bedroom silently. “You really thought I wouldn’t see you on your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. A soft breeze came in through the window sending shivers down her spine. Jason closed the window for her and she sent a silent thank you towards his way. “I thought you wouldn’t bother.”

“Well,” he extended the little box to her. Her fingers brushed on his softly, a shock sent on his skin at the touch, “I couldn’t not see you.”

Her hands hugged the box carefully, hesitant on what to do with what was given to her. “Open it,” he urged her. 

She eyed him suspiciously, undoing carefully the blue bow that decorated the gift. Opening the box, a tiny robin pendant next to two tiny stones pendants, an opal and an onyx: her birthstone and his. “Wow,” she breathed out, her heart racing inside her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t feel sleepy anymore. “Jason, this is… You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had,” he stated, his eyes soft and loving, lingering on her more than they should. “You mean a lot to me, darling.”

Her eyes glinted underneath the pale moonlight streaming through the half closed curtains of her room. Jason’s breath hitched quietly at the sight of her, disheveled and sleepy and yet the most perfect person to grace his life. She was at a loss for words for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing how to react. Her eyes trailed frenetically over the pendants, trying to find meaning in those.

“Why a robin?” the inquiry startled Jason. He wasn’t expecting to explain himself, much less explain why he had given her a robin pendant. She had no clue what he did when the night fell, who Bruce actually was and he intended to keep her in the dark about that aspect of his life. She didn’t need to know anyway, and telling her would only put her in danger. That was what Bruce made her believe. 

“It reminded me of you,” he answered, simply, his eyes fixated on her angelic face. 

It wasn’t untrue. Robins were friendly and protected over, birds that should never be harmed. Jason made sure of that, he had her back, always, and he knew she had his. But mostly, he wanted her to have a piece of him everywhere she went. If something were to happen, he wanted to guarantee he wouldn’t be a footnote in her life. What a magnificent life that would be, he knew.

Her eyes ran on his face, looking for a hint that he wasn’t sincere, that he was just messing with her. The thought was more heartbreaking than she anticipated. She found nothing malicious in his face, in his eyes, and smiled back at him. “Thank you, Jay,” she kissed his cheek delicately, her lips barely brushing his skin. It was enough to send both of them into a frenzy of feelings, a thousand thoughts running through their heads. 

“Here,” he extended his hands, his eyes clear and full of emotion for her, “I’ll put it on for you.”

She handed him the box, turning around so he could clasp the hook of the necklace. Jason was considerably smaller than her - she guessed it was because of the years of malnutrition he endured when he lived on the streets - so she sat on her bed to meet his height. His fingers brushed slightly at the back of her neck, sending goosebumps on her body.

It was when she turned to look at him again that she realized that maybe Jason wasn’t just a friend to her. Maybe the interest she had in Jason, or how her heart raced when she saw him for the first time in the day weren’t because he was her friend. Maybe it was because she had decided to love him with all her soul. 

#

#

Aged 16, April 28th.

It was ironic how sunny it was in Gotham that day. It was like nothing had happened, the world hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be gloomy and sad outside, to match the pain she felt inside. 

On the deep green grass of Gotham cemetery, stood her and Jason’s family, listening to a priest preach something meaningless to her. Nothing mattered to her anymore, her friend, best friend, was buried deep into the earth, 6 feet under. She would never get to see him again, hear his laugh, take in his smile. She would never have another birthday with him, give him his favorite books, tell him she loved him. Her eyes were fixed on the fresh dirt lain over his shiny coffin, her hand fidgeting on the robin pendant Jason had gifted mer  months before. It wasn’t an open casket, she couldn’t even see him for the last time. 

The call was the most confusing moment she had ever gone through. He didn't even tell her he was going after his mom. He didn’t even get to explain that to her. Jason just burst through her window late at night, saying he was leaving Gotham for a few weeks, anger seeping through his pores and contaminating the room. His knuckles were badly bruised, as her fingertips lightly brushed he hissed. She didn’t question him, it didn’t even go through her head. He had said he wanted to find a part of him, and she nodded, wishing him luck. 

Looking back, she wished she had begged him to stay, to find that part of him in Gotham, with her away from the perils of foreign bombs. Tears sprouted in her eyes as the thought passed through her head. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t predict a tragedy would have happened. It had become a mantra to her, and sometimes repeating it to herself didn’t help at all.

Bruce Wayne stood next to her, stoic, his face stony. It almost didn’t look like he had lost a son. But she saw how his jaw tensed, how it was similar to when Jason was upset and didn’t want to tell her about it. She could see how broken he was inside, how angry and desperate. She felt that too. 

The priest stopped talking and the four people standing on that lawn let out a stuck breath of relief. Jason’s brother approached his Father, walking away from her. She stared at the stone, cold like Jason’s body, with the engrave ‘Jason Todd, beloved son and friend’. It didn’t make justice to what Jason actually was, he was much more than just a son and a friend, but it was what they used to describe him. If Jason had decided what his epitaph would be, surely would be a dramatic quote from Shakespeare. 

Her name was called out in a posh british accent and she turned toward the person. What she saw was an older gentleman, holding a black umbrella to protect his baldness from the sun. A thin mustache hung over his upper lip, molded into a sad frown. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. Master Jason talked a lot about you,” he commented with his left hand behind his back.

“All good things, I hope?” she joked quietly, her eyes trailed to her black shoes, wet grass glued to the sides of it. 

“The best things, I assure,” his voice was firm and calm, his accent oozed her security, something she was eager to cling on. He reached for the inner pocket of his blazer, pulling a crisp white card. She furrowed her eyebrows, accepting the card. On it, it had Alfred’s name, his profession underneath and a phone number. “If you ever find yourself needing anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

She nodded, her thumb lightly brushing the expensive paper on her hand. “Thank you Mister Pennyworth,” her eyes found the old man, the wrinkles around it making his stern stance seem gentler. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come over for some tea?” he offered. “I’m sure Master Bruce wouldn’t mind having his son’s friend over.”

She wanted to, a force inside her compelled her to accept his offer. But her heart was broken, and she didn’t know if she was ready to enter what used to be Jason’s home so fast after he was buried. At the same time, maybe she didn’t have the nerve to say no to such a kind person. “I--,” she hesitated, “okay, I’ll have some tea.”

#

#

Aged 18, mid-August.

“I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” her hands fiddling with the necklace Jason had given her long ago. “It feels like I’m at a crossroads and every sign points to the direction my heart doesn’t want to go.”

The old butler poured her mint tea - her favorite, as he had learned over the weekly visits she paid him - calmly and firmly as she ranted. “What is holding you back?”

She looked at Alfred, her eyes confused at the question. She hadn’t lingered on the fact of why she didn’t want to accept the scholarship on Metropolis. Her brain told her it was only logical, she would miss her parents, her weekly meeting with Alfred, her hometown. But Alfred was always one step ahead, he had a sixth sense as she had come to learn. “You know,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the beautiful teacup in front of her. 

He said her name, getting her attention. “Master Jason isn’t here anymore,” he stated simply, laying cookies on her plate, “you don’t have to stay behind for him.”

“I know,” she picked up the spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “But,” she hesitated, not knowing how to phrase her feelings, “Alfred, I can’t even think of it. I can’t wrap my brain around leaving him.”

“You are not leaving him,” his voice was calm and gentle, softening her panic. “You are moving on.”

She shook her head, her eyes shut close tightly. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered, “I feel like I’m meant to be here, Alfred. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well, if you do decide to stay in Gotham, I hope we can continue our weekly teas,” Alfred said, a tone of hope in his voice. 

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with kindness. “If I do decide to stay, I’d love to keep our weekly teas,” her smile stayed as she uttered the words. “I appreciate our time together, Alfred.”

“I’m honored,” he said to her, bringing the teacup to his lips.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she turned around to see who it was. Turning around, her hand bringing the teacup to her lips, she saw a disheveled Bruce Wayne walking towards her. His eyes were barely opened, prominent bags under his eyes cast a shadow on his features. His tie hung untied on his neck, his shirt over his pants, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. It was a stark contrast from the Bruce Wayne she had seen at Jason's funeral, two years back, the one she saw frequently splattered on the news front pages.  

“Oh,” he stopped on his tracks, his hands falling limply to his sides. His jaw tensed and, suddenly, a mask fell on his face, the vulnerability he displayed a few seconds before gone. He wasn’t anymore Bruce, a guy who had just woken up and wanted something from the kitchen of his oversized home, he was the Bruce Wayne, now. The velocity of the transformation haunted her. “I didn’t realize we had visitors.”

She rested the teacup pack on the counter, and got up from the stool. “I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne,” she muttered, extending her hand, introducing herself. “I am, was, Jason’s friend.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, “I remember you.”

Alfred looked pointenly at Bruce as pulled a mug from a cabinet. He poured coffee for himself, and leaned against the counter next to Alfred. She stood there next to her stool, paralyzed in his presence. Everytime she was present in Wayne Manor, Bruce was either too busy to ever grace them with his presence, or away on some business trip she never bothered to ask what for. “We have weekly teas, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his tone laced with something deeper than announcing their weekly traditions. 

Bruce’s jaw tightened somehow and his blue eyes rested on her. Her eyes drifted to her teacup, her tea getting cold. She was itching to grab it and drink it, but she felt uncomfortable even moving a inch from her place, much less feeling the liberty to resume her previous behavior. “Really?” his eyebrows shot up, his head tilting slightly. “Please, seat, pretend I’m not here.”

She hesitated before sitting back down. Her hands hugged her teacup, the warmth of it seeping through her skin. It was hard to pretend he was not there next to her, looking at her with judging eyes. She wondered if he remembered her from the funeral, if he had thought of her when he was thinking of Jason’s legacy, what his son had left behind. Her eyes looked up at Bruce before quickly darting back down to her tea, “Yeah, I don’t really wanna go to Metropolis,” she whispered, resuming her previous conversation with Alfred. The air in the kitchen was tense and awkward, she couldn’t look any of them men in the room in the eyes. 

“I’m certain Gotham U will admit you,” Alfred reassured her, “You’re a brilliant person, they’d be fools to let you go.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her eyes were focused on the tea, like it was the most important thing in that kitchen. “They usually don’t take this long to send the letters, it’s making me nervous.”

“Gotham U, huh?” Bruce chipped in. “What’s your major?”

She looked expantly at Alfred, trying to see if he knew any of Bruce’s intentions. But she often forgot how impassive Alfred was, how in control of his emotions he was, something she lacked. He didn’t show her anything, she assumed he knew of something, like usually. “Applied physics,” she responded, quietly. 

“Wow,” Bruce breathed out, “impressive.”

She offered him an awkward smile in return. It was hard to find a response to the reaction of others when they became aware of her major. It was highly uncommon, and usually those who followed that path were men. When people discovered what she wanted to do with her life, they almost always reacted like they had found an unicorn.

“Well, when you do graduate, look for me, I can help you get a job,” Bruce politely offered, his tone kind. She looked up at him for the first time, his expression almost fatherly. 

“Thank you Mr. Wayne, that’s very kind of you,” she bored her head, looking down at her tea once again. 

His phone rang, and he picked it up from his pocket. Her eyes trailed over to his expression, his jaw once again tense. “You’re welcome,” he replied, feigning happiness and comfort. “If you’ll excuse me,” he left the kitchen in broad steps, his shoulders tense and determined. 

That was the first time she came to the conclusion that Bruce Wayne was a strange man. 

#

#

Aged 22, end of May.

College was an excruciating experience, but finally she had left it all behind. With her diploma in hands, she finally felt a small semblance of freedom, something she had longed when isinde the four walls of her old dorm in Gotham U. 

She stepped into the ground floor of Wayne towers, her shoes clicking nervously on the floor. She had made sure to dress properly to meet Bruce Wayne, unsure of what he’d think if she showed up dressed like a broke college student, something that she very much was. It was the mentality of fake it till you make it, aim a bit higher and maybe you’ll get there. She desperately wished she’d get there.

One of the receptionists let her in, indicating the floor in which she should go to. Her hands sweat gripping the folder with her recommendations and her resume, she gulped looking at the elevator intently. Her free hand found its way to the tiny robin gently resting on her neck. She wished Jason was there to help her, give her tips on what to say to his Father to make him glad, and what to avoid doing so that he’d hire her. She could imagine him if she closed her eyes, next to her, barely taller than her, smiling at her wishing her good luck. The elevator dinged, bringing her back to reality. Jason wasn’t next to her, and she didn’t have anyone to give her tips on what to say to her potential boss. She was alone, just like she had been for six long years. 

In spite of the hundred floors of the building - quite literally - the elevator ride was fast. When the doors opened, it revealed a small greeting room, with a couple of couches and a tall window illuminating it. She eyed directly in front of her, the double doors with a tiny plaque with the name Bruce Wayne engraved on it. Her eyes lingered on it for a couple of moments, as she walked towards the lonesome couch next to the big window. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the beating heart. She wondered if Bruce was already inside the room, if he remembered what he had offered to her all those years ago, or if he had just been polite and did not plan on following with it at all. 

After that strange meeting with him four years back, she had barely seen him again. A couple of times she had seen a shadow passing through the corridors while she was heading out of the Manor, someone she assumed for the sake of her mental health it was Bruce Wayne and not a ghost. The notion that he was a strange man only intensified, adding the perception that he was hiding something. She knew he was a good actor, but she could see tiny cracks and slips, an ability gained from years of loneliness. It was hard to say what it was that he was keeping a secret from everyone, but there was something there. 

Her name was called and she saw Bruce Wayne standing underneath the frame of the double doors that lead to his office. She got up promptly and walked towards him, her grip on her folder tight. His hand was extended and she shook it professionally, pretending like she wasn’t panicking inside. 

“I have someone I’d like for you to meet,” he stated, guiding her inside his office. The office was probably four times bigger than the small room she had stayed previously, the large windows providing a beautiful view from Gotham. You could almost pretend it was a normal city looking out from that window. “This,”  he motioned to the man sitting on a cozy nook in the back of the room, “is Lucius Fox.”

The man was big and well built, his round glasses standing on the tip of his nose. He smiled at her, crinkles forming beside his eyes. His hand found his glasses, taking them off and putting them in his pocket. “Nice to meet you, Miss. mr. Wayne has talked a lot about you,” he stated, his hand extended for her to take it. 

She looked back at Bruce, confused. After all, he remembered her and he remembered his offer. She turned back to Lucius and shook his hand, a determined expression on her face. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox.”

“Lucius Fox is the head of our R&D department, and has agreed to take you as his personal apprentice,” Bruce explained. 

Shock overcame her, her eyes wide. She looked between Lucius’ kind smile and Bruce’s stoic stance, unable to believe the opportunity was real. “Really?” she uttered incredulously. 

“I have some personal projects and I’d very much need the help,” Lucius explained, calmly. “Mr. Wayne has talked highly of you, I’m eager to see what you’re capable of doing.”

“I--,” she shook her head, trying to get rid of the hesitation, “thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce responded, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

#

#

Aged 24, April 26th.

The humid air of the cave made sweat drip down her face as she tinkered away with a broken gadget she had designed for Bruce’s night time activities, as she had so dearly called it. 

It was a new development, the cave and the capes and the vigilantism. The two years she invested working with Lucius all served a greater purpose to Bruce. She was to be the next Lucius Fox, help provide Batman, or rather Bruce - in her head it was still confusing to assume that the guy who had given her a job was the ‘Dark Knight’ - with gadgets capable of doing everything that his physical capabilities couldn’t. Lucius was old and reaching retirement, and even if he loved his job, he was reaching his limit. She was beyond grateful for his guidance, she had learned so much. But he had left her a fucking weird job. There was no other way to describe it. 

The cave was quiet, Bruce had left sometime before, she could only hear Alfred quietly talking to Bruce through the comms and the drip-drip of water falling from the ceiling and hitting the small lake underneath her. She had settled in a little abandoned nook, her tools all scattered on top of her table. She rested the screw driver she was working with on the table, lifting the magnifying lens. She rubbed her face, tired of looking towards the tiny malfunctioning screen.

Her hands remained on her face, concealing her emotions. The robin pendant always felt especially heavy on the 26th of April. It had been 8 years since she had seen Jason, and as pathetic as it sounded, she never really got over the loss of him. They always felt particularly lost, she couldn’t focus on anything other than him, running circles around any problem presented to her. Looking at the gadget, it felt nearly impossible to find a solution to it, her mind foggy with sadness and grief that she could never really shake off, even with years between her and the day he had died. 

The knowledge that Bruce kept everything as Jason had left, and even made a little homage to his Robin days in a secret corner of the cave, hidden from view, was heavy in her heart. She struggled to keep her eyes trailed to her task and not at the memory of Jason. She took a sharp breath, trying desperately to sew herself together. It was truly pathetic how much it still affected her, how open the wound still was. 

A sharp motor sound echoed through the walls of the cave, disturbing the few bats that hung from the ceiling. A guy built like a fucking brick wall parked his bike on the platform, taking long strides towards where Alfred stood. He adorned a cracked red helmet that glistened in the white lights that illuminated the pathway. His heavy footsteps echoed through, her eyes unable to escape from him. She approached silently, praying that that loose panel near the little stairs that lead to the main computer wouldn’t scratch underneath her weight. 

“Where the fuck is Bruce?” he growled, his hands balled into fists next to him. His leather jacket was worn and old, its sleeves bunched up near his elbow, exposing his veiny forearms. The cracked part of the helmet revealed his blue eyes, sparkling in a familiar way. It tugged her heartstrings, her hand instinctively went to her robin. It couldn’t be, Jason was dead. 

“He’s on patrol, Master Jason,” Alfred said calmly, his eyes trailed to the screens in front of him. Alfred acted like this man’s fits of anger were completely normal. 

Her brain repeated that it wasn’t Jason, it was a mere coincidence that this man’s name was the same as her dead best friend’s. Jason was a tiny and scrawny kid, he wasn’t tall and thick like this man. Jason wasn’t bitter and prone to anger fits, even if he was angry most of the time. He was silent and kind and sweet, this man looked to be the opposite of it. 

“He promised, Alfred, where is he?” he growled, his fist slamming on the table. “He fucking promised.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon, if you’d like to wait,” Alfred motioned to the medical bay, the gurney sitting there on its lonesome. The man huffed, marching to the gurney, otherwise ignoring her presence a few feet away. 

She approached Alfred quietly. “Who was that?” her voice laced with curiosity and fear. 

Alfred looked at her serenely, knowing something she didn’t. He smiled at her, teh crinkles around his eyes appearing generously. “Why don’t you find out?,” he responded to her camly. 

She took it as an order, and made her way towards the small infirmary area. Her footsteps were light and determined, her hand clutching the robbing resting on her chest tightly. Her brain ran over scenarios on how likely it was that this person had almost every physical attribute to her best friend Jason, if he had taken steroids for the past 8 years. It wasn’t likely, but in light of her new knowledge, of how close the supernatural was to her, it was very much possible. 

“Do you want me to take a look?” she asked quietly, shifting the weight from her heels to the tips of her toes. She felt so small in his presence, something she didn’t feel with Bruce, oddly. Maybe it was because Bruce didn’t give off such menacing vibes when he was near her, or maybe it was because her brain was unconsciously comparing this man to her Jason, who had always been smaller than her. “At the helmet, I mean.”

He eyed her surgically, analyzing everything about her. His eyes rested on her pendants, widening slightly in recognition. It took almost everything in her to control her beating heart, to control her brain trying to say that in fact that man before her was her Jason, and it wasn’t her brain playing tricks on her. 

He gently took his helmet off, revealing his crisp black hair cooly laying on his forehead. His eyes focused on the helmet, his arms extended to give it to her gently. Her eyes would leave his face, a face she had longed to see for eight excruciatingly long years. His eyes had remained the same, after all: kind and sweet. His face, however, told a story of hardships and pain, hardened by whatever he had been through all these years. She didn’t know how to feel, if she should feel betrayed he hadn't trusted her enough to say that he was alive, that he was six feet under anymore, or if she should feel elated that Jason was alive and she could finally tell him all the things she wanted to.

Her fingers brushed him slightly, as she picked up the broken helmet from his hands. His hands still felt the same, her heart noticed, picking up a beat. She looked at the crack that exposed half of his face, the electrical parts fizzling dangerously. Her eyes focused on Jason once again, her lips shut painfully. The tears that came to her eyes were inevitable, trembling fingers reaching at her robin pendant, clutching it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he shook his head gently, “it’s not your fault.”

She could see he wanted to touch her, but something held him back. She wouldn’t find out what until much later.  

#

#

Aged 24, August 16th. 

Jason had promised her he would show up, and he never broke his promises. That was what she repeated to herself, late at night. She had prepared everything for his birthday, bought a present for him and baked a cake. She had said that he was supposed to appear at seven. It was well past midnight, the cake had found its way back to the fridge, the present was back in her closet, and he hadn’t showed up yet. 

A part of her kept telling her to give up, her best friend had stood her up: Jason changed fundamentally, he wasn’t the same boy he was when she met him and it was foolish to hang on to that notion; it was perfectly plausible that he had the habit of breaking promises now.  But she was well aware of that, she saw it in the tiny things how much Jason was transformed, it still didn’t change the fact that she knew he valued loyalty above all else, and that included loyalty to his words. He wouldn’t break his promise to her. 

She changed out of the cute dress she was wearing, feeling foolish and sad that she was about to give up most of the hope that he would show up. Her pyjamas welcomed her comfortably, a safe space to let the heartbreak settle on her. He won’t break his promise, she repeated mentally, he won’t. The mantra did little to soothe the growing dread inside her, the notion that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she did. That he didn’t tell her everything that day, that he didn’t trust her anymore. It hurt more than she anticipated. 

Sleep was almost consuming her when she heard a loud clang outside her bedroom. She shook awake, throwing the covers off her instinctively. Her hand grabbed the baseball bat that rested beside her bed, bringing it up and close to her. With slow steps, she approached the window. Her fear settled when she saw the familiar red helmet staring back at her, begging to let him in. She dropped the bat on the floor, opening the window. 

He got in her room awkwardly, struggling to pass his huge frame through a tiny space. She reached to help him, offering her hands. He took them, butterflies running amok on her tummy. “You’re late,” she commented, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. 

“I know,” he said, taking off his helmet and dropping it on top of her bed. “I’m sorry.”

She hummed looking at him underneath the moonlight seeping through her window. She hadn’t gotten used to how big he became, and how smaller she felt in his presence. She was by no means a small woman, but his entire being could encapsulate her with a simple hug, and not the other way around like it used to be. “Why are you late?” she moved to sit on the bed, the helmet rolling off the bed delicately. 

He looked at her, sitting down next to her gently. “I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs. 

“Why do I feel like you’re not being honest with me?” her head tilted, looking at his beautiful profile. There was a scar connecting his right temple to the corner of his upper lip, and it made him even more beautiful than he already was. He fascinated her to no end, his brain, his looks, his entire being was what made her keep going, the light on the end of her tunnel. 

His eyes trailed over her face, looking for something she guessed he wouldn’t find. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“What do you mean, Jason,” she breathed out, confused at the inquiry. “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be nice to you.”

“No, you’re not,” he shook his head, his hands balled into fists and his eyes closed. “You’re not supposed to be kind to me,” he got up, his back towards her.

“Stop it, Jason, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit. 

“You’re supposed to be angry at me. I abandoned you, left you alone, and when I came back I didn’t tell you, I didn’t look for you,” he continued, trying to manipulate her emotions.

“Why are you saying these things, Jason, they’re not true,” she got up, her voice no longer shaking, determined and focused. 

“Because I don’t deserve it,” he turned to her, his eyes tortured and sad. “I don’t deserve your kindness and friendship. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Jay, I--” she started, but Jason interrupted her. 

“Don’t, please. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love,” his voice was heavy with emotion. She discovered that Jason was often ruled by two main emotions: sadness and anger. In that moment, she could only see those in him and a part of her broke.

“That’s not true, you’re worthy of mine,” her voice was so honest and raw, it caught Jason by surprise. She didn’t know what he expected out of her at that moment, maybe to give in to his spiral of bad thoughts and self flagellation, but she refused to let him believe those awful things. “Jason, you really don't know?”

He remained in silence, his eyes wide and shocked, focused on the ground. His jaw was tense and his hands balled into fists tightly. She took a hesitant step towards him, reaching for his hands. They relaxed under her touch and she threaded her fingers through his. It wasn’t hard to notice how perfectly they fit with each other, like to halves of a whole. “I’ve loved you ever since I was 14 and you marched into the boys bathroom to get my lit homework back from Mason Anderson,” she whispered, her eyes focused on his face, while his were focused on their hands together. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it, Jay. But I can’t let you believe all those horrible things you said. Not when I love you more than anything in this world.”

He stayed silent for a couple of moments, her heart beating erratically inside her chest, fearing she had screwed up their friendship for good. In a way, it was worst to know he was out there and didn't want to speak to her because she dared to tell him about her love for him. “Please say something,” she begged him quietly. 

His eyes finally found hers, his hands breaking the link they formed. He rested his hands on her cheeks gently, and she dared say, lovingly. Her heart started beating excitedly, the fear slowly dissipating as his gaze got more intense. 

His lips brushed against hers, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. He kissed her gently, a love delicate and fragile, just acknowledged between them both. His grip on her was firm, his thumb grazing delicately on her cheekbones. Her hands thread through his soft hair, still slightly humid from the sweat caused by the helmet. The air was charged with want, tentative kiss toeing the line between what it was and something more. 

She wished to stay like that forever. She prayed to  whatever was out there in the Universe, to allow her that happiness. To stay kissing her love tentatively in the dark for as long as she could, as long as he’d let her. 

Jason broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers. His fingers found their way to the back of her head, cupping it softly. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing with hers. She reached for his lips once again, like a magnet finding its match. “I love you so much,” he reassured.

They kissed once again, not intending to break apart any time soon. 

[post-modern-prometheus]

So I was thinking a lot about the world before Logan went back in time, and I was also thinking a lot about Luna Maximoff, and I came up with this.

Before Logan goes back in time, Crystal and Peter meet sometime while he’s on the run from the government (probably for being a mutant and the son of Magneto.) They get married and have Luna, and for a while, everything is nice. But of course, all good things come to an end eventually. Especially with the Maximoff family, bc they have really shitty luck.

When Luna is four, Peter dies. And not long after, Crystal gets killed protecting her daughter from sentinels. Erik, while devastated at the loss of his only son and daughter-in-law, takes Luna in and raises her the best he can considering the circumstances. But things are getting worse and worse for mutants, so eventually the plan to send Logan back in time is made, and they put it into motion.

It works, and the timeline is fixed a few months before Luna turns nine. But because of the changes Logan made, Peter and Crystal don’t meet at the right time (or at all) and Luna is not born in the new timeline.

And yet, by some weird twist of fate, she ends up there anyway.

One moment, Luna is hiding in her room as things go to shit around her, and the next, she is waking up in a random field without a single soul in sight. Confused, she starts walking. And eventually, she comes across a town. Luna then finds a newspaper and learns that it’s 1983, a little over a month after En Sabah Nur was defeated.

Luna, despite being only eight years old, connects the dots pretty quickly and realizes that Logan must have fixed the timeline, and somehow, she was transported into this new one. Then Luna realizes that her parents must be alive if that’s the case, and she gets excited briefly before realizing they probably arent together yet (and might not ever be). That and they won’t remember having a daughter.

The idea of this hurts, but the fact that they weren’t dead makes up for it. And despite the really weird and difficult situation she found herself in, Luna is a Maximoff, which means she’s a survivor. She steals some food, water, and a few pairs of new clothes and spends a few days wandering the streets of the town she found herself in, kind of just relishing in her new freedom.

But her new life is lonely. Super lonely. And she misses her family — especially her grandfather, who she was rarely away from since her parent’s deaths. And yet, no matter how tempting it is to go searching for them, she knows they probably wouldn’t believe her if she told them who she was. So she stays alone, even if it hurts sometimes.

Things don’t stay that way, though. Because, as I mentioned before, the Maximoff family doesn’t have the best of luck. So of course, shit goes wrong for Luna.

Essentially what happens is that, while hanging out in a park, Luna sees a group of police officers chasing a woman who is obviously a mutant. They shoot at the woman, and before Luna can stop to think about it, she’s using her powers to take control of the officer’s minds, which allows the woman to escape unharmed. (I checked the wiki, she can actually do this)

But what Luna isn’t aware of is that one of the policemen had been working for a group of people who captured and experimented on mutants. And as soon as they’re free from her mind control, goes to report what happened to their boss. They find out about Luna and, intrigued by her abilities, track her down and capture her. And since Luna is a child with powers she’s not in complete control of, they overpower her easily.

Luna spends months in a facility created by the anti-mutant group. And soon, the scientists experimenting on her find out about her relation to Magneto. They also find out about her being part inhuman, and seeing as the existence of inhumans have yet to be revealed in this timeline, the discovery makes them even more intrigued by her, and so she’s experimented on a lot more than other mutants in the place.

Right as Luna loses almost all hope of getting out, the x men find out about the facility and break into it to free the mutants captured inside. Erik is the one who comes across Luna hiding in the corner of her cell and is quick to free her. But as soon as she sees his face, Luna bursts into tears and barrels into him, not caring if he has no recollection of her. Bc she missed her grandfather goddammit.

Erik is confused about the crying child hugging him, but he brushes it off and assumes that she’s just emotional about being freed. So he picks her up and brings her to where the x men are putting all the freed mutants, except when he tries to put her down, she sort of just... doesn’t let go? She just clings to him.

The x men are a mix of confused, worried, and amused when they see a tired looking Erik holding a small crying child, but they brush it off and bring everyone back to the school. After all, they aren’t exactly unfamiliar with mutants being emotional after being freed, nor are they unfamiliar with comforting the mutant children who they find, so they don’t think much of Luna’s behavior.

But then they reach the school and Luna still will not let go of Erik.

Literally no one can get her to let go. Not even Jean or Charles can do anything bc Luna has an immunity to telepaths. And no one is all that willing to force her away from Erik either, bc they still don’t know what her powers are and they don’t want to cause any distress to Luna in case she lashes out with them.

In the end, Peter is the one who gets her to let go.

The thing is, he doesn’t even mean to. All he does is limp into the room to say hello and ask how the mission went (bc he’s still recovering from having his leg broken by En Sabah Nur.) But as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, there’s suddenly a small blonde child barreling into him with enough force to knock him to the ground. This just further confuses everyone.

But even though Peter has no idea who this kid is, the sight of her crying causes his heart to break as his parental instincts go haywire, telling him to protect and comfort this random child. So, no matter how much these new and sudden instincts confuse him, he hugs Luna. And it feels... strangely right?

(I’m sorry I just wanted more Luna content)

something something dadneto something something history repeats itself something something-

nah bc this. and now i cant stop thinking about how peter trying to tell erik could parallel with luna trying to tell peter-

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don’t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. “I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”

[femurthief-fen]

REVIEW FOR GOLDEN SON, CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR RED RISING SERIES

**IF YOU’RE READING THIS AND GOING “why did they call ‘Sevro’ Servo??” I am dyslexic and fantasy/sci-fi names always get turned around in my head lmaooo

I have never in my life cried from joy, laughter, and complete despair through 100 pages straight

Rating: 5/5

Honestly this book deserves more than 5 stars in my opinion because holy fuck I have not been this invested in a book since Gideon The Ninth.

Pierce Brown crafts an incredible world filled with diverse and deeply intriguing characters who make you feel for their agony and understand the things they need to do. I already loved Red Rising but Golden Son did something different to me. It was a masterpiece.

The Plot: 5/5

We follow Darrow as he continues his journey through the world of the golds now under the wing of Augustus and fighting desperately for respect among the people who surround him.

“Hic sunt leones. Here be lions.”

Darrow experiences pain, loss, trauma, friendship, mercy, understanding, and love throughout Golden Son with a beautiful story of a man figuring out that what he thought was true is not to be believed, and this theme continues into the second book. Despite his blatant apprehension Darrow finds himself truly loving his gold friends and any other color who brings him joy.

Theodora is a brown who takes care of Darrow and dotes on him constantly and teases him. They have an adorable relationship that proves that Darrow is not only growing fond of the golds, but realizing that all the colors are just people, mislead, dark, dishonest sometimes, but people all the same. This book felt more philosophical to me than Red Rising, it dove more into the idea of "why" we are what we are. Why we do this to each other. The complexity of human morality and loyalty. Are our enemies evil or just mislead?

It is a deeply complex plot with so many interesting stories that show that humanity is far from perfect and things need to change, but people are still people with real pain and real fears.

“We’re all just wounded souls stumbling about in the dark, desperately trying to stitch ourselves together, hoping to fill the holes they ripped in us.”

“There is no morality to him. No goodness. No evil intent when he killed Eo. He believes he is beyond morality. His aspirations are so grand that he has become inhuman in his desperate desire to preserve humanity.”

I love how important friendship and love is in this male and war dominated plot alongside with powerful and ruthless female characters who still have huge personalities. By far the best relationship in the entire book (and series) being that between Darrow and Servo.

Servo is by far my favorite character in the series because oh my god he is incredible. Everything he says makes me laugh or cry or just be genuinely happy hes speaking. I love this goblin child. Every scene between him and Darrow sharing a moment of true sympathy for everything the other is going through felt honest and loving, something we don't see often between male characters.

Characters: 5. out. of. fucking. 5.

I think i could literally scream for hours about how well rounded and complex these characters are. They feel like real people. Messy, broken, and holding onto each other for dear life.

Darrow feels a lot more guilt for the things he does to the golds than he did in the last book. He wonders if he is becoming the very monster he's trying to defeat. Darrow has a subtle shift throughout this entire book from pride and vengeance to almost a repentance and understanding. He keeps people at a distance but he aims to inspire any color to be as eccentric and strong willed as possible.

This is shown most through Ragnar, an obsidian that takes to Darrow after they find him aboard a ship. Darrow does not order him or berate him like the other golds do, he asks Ragnar what he wants out of life. Ragnar becomes increasingly loyal to him as he realizes Darrow is not like the people who tormented him. But still Darrow is aware of his wrongdoings and that the innocent boy in the mines died with Eo. He is no longer a force of pure rage as he was in the first book, but now a calculated, thoughtful, destructive, and powerful leader.

“But that man is gone. I mourn his passing every day. Forgetting more and more of who I was, what dreams I held, what things I loved. The sadness now is numb. And I carry on despite the shadow it casts over me.”

Servo plays an even more prominent role in this book which makes me so fucking happy. He also takes on a complex character arc as he begins to understand what war really means for him and everyone around him. Servo's loyalty to Darrow as his closest friend and his genuine love and acceptance of both sides of Darrow make a beautiful found family/friendship.

“I’m Gold, bitch. What’d you expect? Warm milk and cookies just because I’m pocket-sized?”

Mustang also comes back to remind us she is a genius and a badass and to keep Darrow in line. We begin to realize how torn Mustang is between what she believes and her love for her family. She proves time and time again that she would do anything for her family but not at the cost of destroying the friendships she's built unless absolutely necessary.

Victra is chaotic, sassy, brilliant, and severely underused in this book, I love her.

Lorn, Darrow's tutor is a complicated and wise man who tries to keep Darrow from falling into the same path he did. He has large role in golden son because I think Darrow sees him as the father figure that he lost. And its clear Lorn sees the same familial relationship and love for Darrow.

“A fool pulls the leaves. A brute chops the trunk. A sage digs the roots.”

Augustus,the very man who killed Darrow's wife, is Darrow's Archgoverner and leader. He gives Darrow orders and keeps him at a distance but this develops into one of the most interesting parts of the story. Darrow begins to realize what Augustus is, a man trying to keep order and keep people alive in the only way he was taught how. Darrow doesn't condone what Augustus does of course but he begins to understand the perspective the golds have on life that has been ingrained on them since birth.

“Brutality.” Augustus lets the word hang in the air. “It is neither evil nor good. It is simply an adjective of a thing, an action in this case. What you must parse is the nature of the action.”

Ragnar is the final character I'll talk about because many of the other arcs are developed through major spoilers. Ragnar joins our little crew about halfway through the book. He's a powerful obsidian who takes to Darrow because he sees him almost as a kind and merciful god in the beginning, but a friendship blossoms from their and Darrow places a lot of trust in the tortured yet loving man.

The Gold spits. “You send a dog to do your fighting?” “I am a man!” Ragnar roars louder than the screaming engines of a passing ship.”

Anyways if you haven't tried the red rising series I highly suggest it. Seriously. Its incredible