#like. for me less is worse with my medical issues and a sign something's wrong.

[torchickentacos]

can fucking harvard maybe not try to sell me weight loss diets?

[bonefall]

how do surrogacies for cats in another Clan work, socially? With honor siring you don't have to stick around once the cat you're siring for is pregnant; but with surrogacies you're going through an entire pregnancy and kitting process, which your Clan will probably catch onto at some point. Do you just... go off to give birth and come back and tell your Clan "bad news they didn't make it :( they all got uhhh eaten by a hawk sry all" after dropping them off with the cats you surrogated for

The out of universe reason is simple logistics. Some parents can't give birth but they still need a visit from the stork, with how small Clan sizes are.

In-universe, it's a whole process.

MOST surrogacies are done by family, or are in-Clan. A sibling who is able to get pregnant will do so, with the expectation that their family member will take and raise the kits.

More are done on a sort of "open book" policy. Onestar and Whitetail are an example of this; One wanted kits and asked White, but didn't want to coparent. She agreed, and neither one kept it a secret.

So Whitetail is not Heathertail's MOTHER, but it is known she was the honor-sire.

Likewise though, it's within your rights to keep it secret, even within a Clan. If you asked Onestar where the kit came from, invoking Queen’s Rights would shut it down.

But you could put two and two together that Whitetail was probably pregnant and stopped being so right when Onestar became a Mi.

For the record though. Listen carefully.

not every cat who is expecting will suddenly flash like a neon sign indicating it. The whole Clan will not suddenly get a text saying "DUDEHEART IS PREGNANT." Some people just don't show. Some cats don't smell that different. It's rude to ask unprompted and even worse if you guess wrong. Like real life.

Please understand.

On the Anthro-Scale, from 100% feral cat to 100% fuzzy human, BB cat gestation is closer to the feral cat than most of their other behaviors. So this is not the same "big deal" as a human pregnancy.

In general, I write "medical" topics closer to real cats than the Erins do. I mostly take "liberties" in the portrayal of disabilities so THOSE are closer to the real humans in my audience

intelligent cats are not going to be correcting me on my incorrect portrayal of Feline Diabetes, but I could unwittingly cause harm in spreading diabetic misconceptions that real people try to clear up, y'know?

Anyway. What that means is that warriors giving birth is not the federal issue that it is for humans. It's still not TOTALLY safe, but dying in childbirth is exceptionally rare, plus being much less painful and considerably faster

"The Birthing Stick" means something is wrong.

So there's several factors at play within Clans, but Out-of-Clan surrogacies are much more interesting.

These are usually arranged at Aftergatherings. They were rarer before the move to the Lake, which now sees waaaay more cross-clan friendships.

USUALLY the Clan's Cleric will be involved, which IS technically a waiving of the Queen’s Rights. Leafpool simply doesn't interpret it that way.

A more "traditional" Cleric, like Littlecloud, will NOT be involved for personal safety and comfort reasons. This makes a bad situation but that's the reality of QR (and is a reason why Fire Alone cats think QR doesn't go far enough.)

Kits are always given to the parent before 1 moon. Fading Kits aren't socially questioned if they fade before that 1st moon. So it's pretty easy to hide it.

"All of my litter was faders" is unfortunate in the way that a car accident is unfortunate. "Shit, are you ok?" "Is StarClan trying to keep a close eye on you? Are you going to try again?" Etc.

"Frequent Flyer" surrogates, like Brightheart, often keep a single kitten from each litter to avoid the implication of "bad omens."

If they aren't Brightheart who likes raising kittens with her mate, the kitten is often given to an in-Clan parent who wanted a child.

Most surrogacies aren't "free," but it does depend on who's doing it for you.

Like all other things in BB, this looks very different between generations, and depends heavily on the "attitudes" of the Clans at the tine. But, Queen’s Rights will protect you from revealing too much. STILL, surrogacies ARE harder than sirings. Just not impossible.

[marlasomething]

(my) Mag a Week: Locked Sign

Hello there!

I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened. This week I am publishing even later than the previous week, WHAT A FUCKING MESS MY LIFE IS RIGHT NOW!

For today I rolled Archivist!Sasha (MYBELOVED) and The Web (Eps. 66-71).

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: sickness, feeling of being trapped, mild graphic gore, paranoia

As an additonal note I wanted to comment that the story is called "Locked Sign" referencing medical signs (usually mistaken with symptoms), which are the actual physical "objective" manifestation of something going wrong with your body.

Also on AO3!

Statement of Dawn Lourd, regarding a persistent cough that just won’t go away.  

Recorded by Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.  

Statement begins.  

 Don’t worry about touching this paper, I am not contagious. Actually, I wish I were; at least that way I would know I have something that can be treated, not…whatever is going on with me right now.

Sorry if my writing is not very clear. I haven’t slept in over a week and every other minute I must stop to just…well, cough.

I wonder what my next coughs are going to be like: the one you expect from someone with tons of mucus or perhaps the dry one, the one that seemed to be tearing apart your vocal-chords.

Never mind, I guess I should just start at the beginning…

…what a terrible place to start.

 This won’t be long,  I promise, I have not it in me to keep this  going for more than a thousand words (give or take), but I need to tell someone while I  still can hold a pen for more than two minutes without convulsing and aching so badly I can’t even properly operate my fingers.

It all began about a month ago, when I woke up after a rather  entertaining   night of which I remember…less than a little. I must admit; I have very little self-control and one of my friends works in a pharmacy and, well, you can imagine the rest.

The only thing I can properly recall of the whole night was one of my friends, having to go out to get a bit of fresh air, hugged me as tight as possible and whispered to me  “You are my lifeboat, guys”.  

It hit me, it hit me really hard and I realised I felt the same way.

I haven’t spoken to them since that night.

 Next morning, I woke up feeling…rather unease, but I couldn’t exactly point out what was wrong. After some inner-deliberations without a single external bother in the world (perks of living alone), I chose to still go on my morning run and then have a shower.

Everything was fine and, then, all of the sudden, I began coughing.

It was your typical cough when your throat is just full of mucus and, the moment you expelled them, you feel fine again. The trouble was…I had absolute nothing to get rid of, my throat was perfectly fine. At least, at the beginning.

I kept coughing, and coughing and, what is even worse, I sometimes got about half an hour of rest, sometimes even almost an hour, and I got hopeful; thinking that, perhaps, this time is the time I finally get well.  

 After two days when I couldn’t even answer texts, I decided to go to the doctor. However, I changed my mind the moment I was about to open the door to my landing.

See; my relationship with the medical profession is…rather rocky. I have a mental disorder, which I basically had to realise on my own since I  had gotten misdiagnosed years ago and no matter how much I insisted that what they were saying about how  I felt  , why I acted   the way I acted was utterly wrong, no one believed me. Not even my sister, who used to be my best friend.

Hence, the  “used to”.

Alas, going to the doctor, seeing me coughing so badly and being in not exactly an ideal shape due to some…issues at work that had made it pretty rough for me these past few months…the blame is going to go on me and I just couldn’t handle it.

So I finally chose to stay home, write to my office saying I was taken the rest of my free days of the year (it was December after all, I was going to lose them if I didn’t take them; I would just have more work when I came back) and wait until the cough stopped.

It couldn’t last that long if I took care of myself, right?

 Of course, it didn’t stop. It kept going to the point I started to find bruises in my ribcage of all the violent movements I was making in order to expel whatever the fuck my body believed was inside of me.

I tried once again to answer to messages, seeing how some of my friends were starting to worry as well as noticing some  important issues   I had been delaying for quite a while before this all began.

Nothing; the moment I unlocked the screen, with my eyes already teary and irritated from all the coughing, it felt too much. I got stressed just of thinking how to explain what was going on, so I decided to leave it alone.  At least, this way there was only one thing in between me and regular old-fashioned breathing.

I would explain the moment I got better.

 Wet cough, dry cough…even croup cough, though it is supposed to affect more children…Ha! How could I even apply biology rules to this  thing  ? Whatever it is in actuality.

The point I am poorly trying to arrive to is: my coughing started to take all forms and intensities, up to the point that I could barely move a few metres without having to lie down, cradle myself into a fetal position and pretend that I knew when it was going to end.

Predictably enough, I actually didn’t know and, well, the only thing I managed to achieve was for my bones and muscle to cold down while lying in a floor not made for this endeavour.

I became worried sick, certain at this point that I had some bizarre modification of an existing virus and that I was going to die one of the most painful incurable deaths imaginable.

Only one possible solution, a pretty radical one.

 I should be dead by now. Not only because, as I have already implied, I tried (very hard, I must add) to kill myself when I thought it was the only merciful way out I had, but also because everything inside my ribcage is now in shreds.

I have even spitted small pieces of gelatinous swelled-up flesh that I can only assume are…were part of my lungs. My voice is gone and I have went to the extreme of stabbing my throat so I could open it out and take away whatever is causing all this.

I have only managed to black out and wake up with rather terrible wounds that will never completely heal and forever soar, but that are in no possible way imaginable mortal.

All while coughing. The coughing never stops. It keeps varying, but never stops.

Not even now…well, at least, I don’t have those moments of pause anymore. There is no more fake hope, just this reality I am being thrown into, this entrapment within my own body…

…I should be dead, but I am not sure I am alive anymore either.

 And that will be all about me, this is my story, this is my pain, this is what is hurting me more than words can properly express. Maybe I try drowning after I leave you with this statement. Maybe the pain of the water going into my nostrils helps forgetting about the coughing, even if it doesn’t kill me either.

Goodbye and thank you for  reading  , I guess.

  Statement ends.  

  That was short but intense. I am lucky enough I had barely gotten sick in my entire life…anyways, unprofessional comment, sorry.

Even though the story makes it clear that whatever happened to Dawn Lourd was supernatural, I wanted to read this statement with proper protection the moment I saw the spit on it. However, Jon, sorry, Jonathan  insisted that he was certain as he could ever be that this was too personal to be contagious.

I hope he is right, even if his phrasing doesn’t make much sense. Just in case, all the researched information for confirmation has been attached in person by yours truly, so nobody else had to touch or go anywhere nearby this statement.  

I could almost use a supernatural cough right now to relax a bit.  

End recording.  

   SUPPLEMENTAL  : I was already suspicious of Jon before but, since he is my boss and used to be my friend…I believe I have been fooling myself and trying to give him more chances than he deserves. Michael’s apparition confirmed it. He...sorry, They…no, shit, It…likes me and I think that, for a murderous evil monster, he is pretty less shady than, for example, the older man that keeps coming to speak to Jon and then…well, there is always screaming but not always the same time…if you get me.  

I feel relieved it is not Tim. I miss trusting Tim, though I would completely understand if he never trusted me again…  

…I also miss Martin, but…I am just so, so very sorry Tim.  

End recording.  

[haircoveredwriter]

Some thoughts after watching 11x06 "On the Inside". I'll put it beneath a break because there's more than I thought to my mindless rambling.

Okay so they're going with a straight horror movie intro but skipping the usual 'we're having such a good time out here in the woods...wait, something it out here too'

Both LR and KC do a really good terrified for their lives

Also have to say Virgil really seems to have stepped up since we met him because dude can actually take out walkers now. Good job, sir. Never stop learning.

More of Leah walking around amoungst a group of people and having no real reason to be there or contribute anything to the scene. 🙄

Damn, Hondo! Stop pulling at Frost's nails! I can't rip half mine off at work without feeling like Hershel when Rick chopped his leg. Fingers and toes always make thigs worse.

Chokeholds are illegal, Daryl. Someone needs to have him watch his own earlier seasons.

The conversation beneath the conversation between Daryl and Frost is spot on and super interesting.

Daryl's like 'look...I'm going to have to chop your finger off but it's for a good reason. Gonna save your life and who knows, maybe one of these weirdos has a Govenor closet somewhere and they'll let you take it home with you.'

Plus him taking off the vest was WAY more entralling than it needed to be, but I'm a woman with eyes so don't judge me. 👀😍(Enthralling? yup, that's what we'll go with)

It's a definite sign Daryl's not all team Reapers because he's basically taking off/hiding who he really is to fit in with his crazy ex-girlfriend's new posse.

Though my science schooling is giving how little blood there is from the amputation the side eye. Guess Frost just willed his blood some place else.

Am I crazy or is the music playing while Daryl torutres Frost the same that was playing in 10x07 while Carol tortured the Whisperer? Coincedence??🤔

Evil Monopoly man seems like he enjoys playing games with his people.

If Connie looking in the mirror is not me everyday I wake-up😏

GUYS! There were medical scissors in the medicine cabinet. You know what this means??? Queen Beth is gonna rise from the dead and save Vonnie all while less half a brain. LOL.

whoever belongs to that eye in the hole needs to get checked for jaundice.

Ofc the pencil breaks when Connie TRULY needs it. Fate really has it in for her, screwing her over with one of her most trusted friends.

These Reapers have no idea do they about how to sneak up on a building without being seen. Maybe they need it to be night before their powers activate. Funny Leah is in charge when she's the least believable one there.

Daryl pretending to be a cat hiding behind a plant with that mailbox...no one can see you my friend. You're good.

Carver and Leah remind me of the evil version of Caryl and Daryl.

They obviously have something going on and/or had a thing in Daryl's abscence. All those "Always" remarks sound an awful lot like The Princess Bride's "As you wish".

Yup, Carver is uber jealous of Daryl. Leaver is setting sail ya'll.🚢

Carol strolling in to find Kelly stuck in the mud with her casual "need some help" is perfection. I actually lol'd.

AT is also SUCH and underrated and underutilized actress on this show, I need more Kelly on my screen because she needs to be protected like the sweet cinnamon role she is.

WTH is with this episode, they really out here trying to start a bunch of new ships or something? I'm down for Vonnie.

He's so into you, Connie. Who else is gonna keep talking to you knowing you can't hear them but needing to vocalize how much more important they see you to themselves.

Oh, come on...he's said her name in this ep more times than anyone has in the last season. He's trying to rival Daryl for saying Carol's name in s10.

So in case you're keeping track...we now have Vonnie and Leaver riding the crazy shipping seas.📃

Great... more posturing about who cares about Leah more.🤮 Carver you aren't getting it; Daryl's been phoning it in since Day 1, he's not a threat just wait it out and he'll audios up out of here to go find his fire queen back home.

Leah's even telling Daryl "stop pissing of my secret boyfriend okay?"

Note to everyone: a dancing phone line is the sign to run to the basement and not a sign of an overeager squirrel running across the line for his acorns.

So the jaundice family watched The Ring too many times and think this is how all the cool kids act in horror flicks. All they keep saying is 'hungry'; Connie, Virgil, someone get them a Mars bar and it'll be done.

A+ fight put up by Virgil. He's been taking some classes during the lockdowns to better himself.

The Reapers are HORRIBLE military folk. How do ya'll not see Maggie & co leaving when you have people on the perimeter for the sole purpose of finding runners?! Do not hire them. 1 star on Yelp.

Yup I'm all over Vonnie. That "together" stuff was by far the shippiest thing we've seen all season.

And their reunion hug through the walll .... guuurl.

walker guts trick again: the express version

why do I feel like they could do a mini spin off of just a little war going on between the walkers and those jaundice mo-fos? Then one of the walkers falls for a crawler girl but her family thinks he's from the wrong side of the yellow house and don't like how he thinks he's better because he's taller than all of them.

Kelly found Connie! So happy this storyline ended with the 2 people the arc was truly about; the 2 sisters finding each otherafter years of the show hating siblings.

Now can we finish with Carol's self-hatred stuff and let her heal? We know Daryl is gonna be finished with his "gotta save 'em all" issues soon so it would be fantastic if they could finally be on the same baggage free playing field. Just a thought Kang.

Overall I thought it was a good episode. Only a few things I would nitpick ie. limited Carol, cheesy music during some of the haunted house bits, and the reapers need to go back to basic training and learn some stuff and thangs.

Ofc the spoilers beforehand were blown way out of proportion though I'm not surprised. I didn't go in expecting to see what was foretold and thankfully the spirit Gods prevailed again in defeating the overreaction we go through EVERY episode.

[nepenthendline]

S/O that self-harms and has an eating disorder -  Tsukishima, Tendou and Sugawara

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD: SELF HARM AND EATING DISORDERS

I’m dumb and accidentally posted this half done so thats why the requests are in screenshots 

I’ve added these two requests together as they’re about the same topic. Firstly I just wanted to let anon though that I’m absolutely fine writing about these topics so you don’t need to worry! I will, however, make it extremely clear on these posts about the trigger warnings and I won’t go into intense detail so that it’s more accessible, I hope that’s ok! And thank you for your lovely words! 🥰🥰 I have added trigger warning tags for those who need to blacklist this, but please please let me know if you need me to add any others

I know there are so many people who are struggling with these issues, especially at the moment with covid, I’ve been there too and I’m still dealing with these things myself so I want you to know that if you need to talk to someone, or you’d like an emergency request, then my askbox and messages are always open. You are not alone, you are not ‘strange�� for dealing with these things, and I promise you things will get better, I’m already proud of any progress you have made and you should be too. It’s ok to have worse days and to fall back into negative spaces, you’re human!

Also, these will be following my own mental health hcs of these guys that I’ve already posted so check that out first!

Tsukishima:

Tsukishima is the one who understands this the most

he’s been there, he’s struggled with those things and he is still fighting

if you didn’t tell him upfront about your struggles, he would have easily found out by himself quite quickly

since he has been through it himself, he knows the warning signs to look out for, so when you start covering your arms more often even with the hotter weather, or make a passing comment that you aren’t hungry at meal times, he knows it’s his time to step up as a support system

he isn’t going to be particularly forward about it, he’s not the type to come up to you out of the blue and ask questions because he knows some of them can’t be answered, so he takes things into his own hands

he spends more quiet time with you, just the two of you cuddling in your bed as he brushes his fingers over your body

while it may seem like a usual calming display of affection, he is really searching your body for any marks or wounds that are new

he tries to coax your feelings and worries out of you, telling you that you can trust him and that he isn’t going to run away

he knows that he can’t expect you to open up without him doing so either, so he lays himself out for you

he tells you what he has been through, he shows you the scars on his body, he lets you into his heart and his head so that you know you aren’t alone

once you both spill your stories, you don’t talk about it much after that, you both know what is going on so it’s just a matter of taking care of each other

regarding food, he isn’t going to force you to eat huge meals, because he has a small appetite even when he’s eating perfectly fine

but he is going to try and get you eating little amounts consistently throughout the day

you don’t want to eat a full meal? that’s fine, but he is going to be passing you little snacks every few hours so that you at least have some fuel in your body

he’s a smart guy, he knows how the body functions at its best and he will do his best to teach you too in hopes that knowing what your body needs and how it reacts to certain situations will aid you to treat it better

he’s not going to wrap you up in bubblewrap and shield you from the world either, but he will do his best to make sure that there isn’t anything you can easily hurt yourself with in your reach

he’ll put sharp objects on the top shelves, saying it’s just to piss you off about your height

he also always keeps a first aid kit on him in case of emergencies, something he has gotten into the habit of over the last few years

he’s not going to sit there and tell you everything is going to be perfect or to just ‘get over it’, it’s going to be a long process with both of you learning and fluctuating every day, but you’ll both get there eventually

Tendou:

Tendou is extremely attentive, he knows exactly when your mood has changed or if something is wrong

he’ll leave it for a little while to see if you’ll come to him yourself, but if you don’t, then he’ll start asking questions

they start off as simple, casual questions to check up on you, like ‘how are you feeling today?’, ‘how was your day today?’, before they go into specifics if he feels like you aren’t being honest with him

he’s the type of guy that makes ‘jokes’ about his depression, even going as far as joking about suicide or self-harm, and when he notices you flinch ever so slightly at his words, he knew what was going on

he brings it up one day as if talking about the weather while reading manga together

“you’ve been hurting your own body, haven’t you?”

he tries to keep the conversations a light-hearted as possible, saying how you are now ‘scar buddies’ as he lifts up his shorts to show you his thighs

he understands that what he says isn’t really going to do much, but he’s still going to shower you with compliments and affection in the hopes that it brightens your mood and distracts you even a little

distraction is his main way of helping you - if he can keep you busy then there’s less chance of you hurting yourself in his eyes

he’s going to call you over or turn up to your room unannounced with a book in hand to read together, or invite you to cuddle with him as you have an anime binge session, he also wants to make sure you’re getting outside enough so walks to get ice-cream and sit in the park happen frequently

he knows he can’t ‘cure’ you or actually make things better, so he mentions about seeing a therapist if you aren’t already and he will support you every step of the journey if you do decide to seek help

like Tsukishima, he also has a smaller appetite in general so he doesn’t expect you to eat tons

he uses prompts often to try and get you to eat more, such as “babyyyy I’m hungry, let’s go down to the cafeteria together and get some food ok?” or “I bought this jumbo pack of ramen but I can’t eat it all myself, come give me a hand?”

he likes getting you sweet treats too, they often make him feel a little perkier so he hopes they will for you as well

he isn’t going to give them any details, but he will ask his team to keep an eye on you if he isn’t around

he likes to use rating systems with you to determined how you’re doing in the day, whether that be on a scale of 1-10, or texting him a particular emoji that signals if you’re having a bad day

he will never get mad or annoyed at you if you relapse, he understands its a journey that will have it’s ups and downs, but he always reminds you of how far you’ve come and how proud he is

Sugawara:

out of these three boys, Sugawara is the one who understands this the least

he’s never dealt with this issues himself, and he has never been around those who have besides those who struggle with anxiety

even though he can’t empathise, he is naturally an extremely caring person so he wants to do his best to understand

he reads up on self-harm and eating disorders to learn about how they originate, how to notice warning signs and what he can do to help you best

he comes to you a lot as well, asking if there is anything he should know or that he can do for you

while he may not notice these issues themselves straight away, he is always checking up on you in general so he can tell if there is something a little off

it breaks his heart to know that you intentionally harm yourself and it takes him a little while to wrap his head around it

he knows he can’t do much to help the issues you face directly, so he makes sure you are keeping up with more general self-care, such as showering, getting some little exercise everyday, indulging in your hobbies and talking to him and other friends

if you need to rely on him for a little while you’re trying to get back on your feet then that’s fine with him, he is more than happy to remind you to do things to take care of yourself and help you do them too

Sugawara is the most forward when it comes to you getting help from a doctor or therapist

he has a couple serious talks with you about how you need to find a method of battling this, whether that be therapy or medication

as much as he wants to be, he can’t take this away from you

he starts stocking his bag with emergency items too, things like bandages, healing ointment or any safe foods that you can eat

to help your eating, he does his best to make food become part of your regular routine in hopes that it will make eating become more familiar and less daunting

this means regular meal times and creating lists of safe foods with you that you feel you can eat better than others

he will do his best to make sure all your meals have the right nutrients for your body and also recommend you take vitamin supplements daily in case you have a bad eating day and cannot get them through your food

it frustrates him that he can’t do more for you, or that he can’t understand exactly how you feel, but he never shows you that

he will always have his arms open for you if you need support and he will never ever blame you for the struggles you deal with, he reminds you constantly that there will be better days and he is going to be with you through all of them

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Two: Rarepair

Jason knew jokes about how pale Tim was, about how he was either a vampire or the perfect blue blood, about how he needed to get out and absorb some sun for God’s sake. They were met with glares, scathing retorts, smacks with a bo staff, and on one memorable occasion, a horrified Bruce as Tim barged into the house with visible sunburn all along his arms, shoulder and face. (Bruce hadn’t taken Tim’s accusation of But Jason told me to go get some sun! very well.)

Jason wasn’t joking now. Loosely covered in a hospital gown, Tim’s still body seemed to be more devoid of colour than any of the sheets, machines, and tubes surrounding him and attached to his body, keeping him alive in the most impersonal of ways. 

It was quiet, the sort of quiet that muffled any attempted noise with a soft hush, an invisible reprimand at showing signs of life in a place where there should be none. The beeping of the various machines didn’t register, the hum of the fluorescent lights was ignorable. Even the rhythmic tapping of Jason’s foot on the linoleum, a nervous habit he’d never been able to break, was utterly silent. 

It was quiet. At least until Conner Kent barged into the room, his heavy combat boots thudding on the ground and his breath coming out in pants, the terrified look on his face telling Jason that he thought he hadn’t gotten here fast enough.

“He’s fine,” Jason managed not to cough while speaking, the roughness of his throat a physical ache that was just now flaring up. “Full recovery, they said.”

“Good, good, that’s...” Conner dropped into the remaining hospital chair, right next to Jason. “That’s good.”

Silence blanketed them once again. Jason hadn’t ever been in a regular hospital room. He had supposedly spent a while as a patient in one when he’d risen from the dead and trembled around Gotham like a 21st century zombie, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t think Tim’s best friend had ever been in one either, given a good majority of Tim’s team was invulnerable or had advanced healing in some way. 

Jason was sure Bruce was itching to take Tim to the cave’s medbay, and honestly, Jason found himself on Bruce’s side in this. As much as he liked to distrust the entire Bat clan, he knew they’d give everything they had to make sure Tim was okay, while the hospital was only giving Tim their best care because of the “Wayne” tacked onto the end of his name. Jason had been about to demand Bruce bring him back to the cave no matter what, but Oracle butted in, telling him that Tim been shot as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne in broad daylight. Bruce couldn’t take Tim home, not without raising some very complicated questions.

So that led them here. Jason being slammed full-force in the face with how much he’d let himself care about the tiny little toothpick, unable to make himself move for fear that Tim would slip away in the one moment he was gone. (Once he’d come back to life and seen how chummy Dick was with Bruce all of a sudden, he’d always expected Dick to drag him back kicking and screaming. He never thought Tim’s unobtrusive yet steady presence, doing his tech work in exchange for food, would lead to the word brother coming to his lips as easy as a breath.)

Next to him, Conner shuffled, and snapped Jason out of his thoughts. “I thought Nightwing would be here.” A statement, subtly posed as a question.

But, still one Jason had an answer to. “Deep cover. A mission he’d been planning for weeks. He doesn’t know.” And he would probably throw a fit about it too, when he came back. Even Jason had to wince a bit at the horrible sense of déjà vu Dick would end up feeling.

“So they sent you instead,” Conner said, and his tone was simple, but Jason found himself getting heated anyway.

“What, you thought the fill-in for Big Bird would be a little better?”

Jason was just burning for a fight, the helplessness he felt at being able to do nothing but sit in a low-quality plastic chair skating up his body and down his arms, forcing his fingers to curl in a fist. He expected the other boy to rise to the bait, having heard Tim’s complaints on how hot-headed Superboy was. 

But something about their current situation caused Conner to just turn and glare at him flatly instead. “You once put him a hospital bed, too. Don’t act like you care about him now when you would’ve celebrated this a couple years ago.” His tone was dismissive, and that dug under Jason’s skin much more than he expected. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing time travel’s reserved for the speedsters, huh? ‘Cause lucky for you, I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago,” Jason replied scathingly. The next words were ripped from Jason’s throat, and he could almost see the blood splattered on them. “That’s my brother in the shitty hospital bed right there.”

“Yeah? And how long have you even cared about that ‘brother’ of yours?” There it was. Jason could see red trickling into Conner’s cheeks as he let Jason’s words get to him, and found himself oddly curious about that flush.

Still. Argument to win. “Long enough to know him,” Jason shot back. “Long enough to help piece him together after he almost broke. Where were you during that time? Fucking around with your friends or dead?”

“Trying to hold together the team that Tim helped build,” Conner shifted a bit to face Jason more directly head on. “All you’ve done is tear people apart. News flash: having a sort-of truce with Tim doesn’t automatically mean your family loves you again.”

That one hurt. Years of training to keep his emotions hidden was the only thing that kept him from flinching back visibly, but Jason still felt like he’d been slapped. Because the boy was right; just because Tim liked dropping by one of his safehouses every other week doesn’t mean the rest of the family was anywhere near comfortable with him, not after all the pain he’d caused them. And he couldn’t even fault Conner on it, because it wasn’t like he was wrong and it wasn’t like it wasn’t Jason’s own damn fault.

Still. He couldn’t just let that slide. “At least my family loved me to begin with. What do you have? Megalomaniac scientists who built you from an evil billionaire who thinks of you as an experiment at best and supposedly one of the best men on Earth who still thinks you’re not worth his time.”

Too late, Jason realized his insult came out a little too scathing. Conner’s eyes widened, and Jason saw him blink back pinpricks of tears...fuck. He didn’t know when mutual antagonizing had turned into a caustic competition, but he was pretty sure Tim wouldn’t be very happy with the two of them biting each other’s heads off. And Jason was the one that goaded Conner into this to begin with, to let some of his own helpless anger loose. Conner just wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

So, slightly reluctantly, Jason said, “Sorry. That was a bit too far.”

Conner shot him a grimace. “S’okay. You’re keyed up ‘cause of Tim. I get it. You’re still a jackass, though.” After saying his bit, the other boy turned away, taking up another vigil by Tim’s bedside.

...What the hell. It wasn’t like Jason had lied, anyway. If there was one person that had worse daddy issues than Jason did, it was this poor son of a bitch. Back when he was first catching glimpses of updates on what happened in the larger superhero world while he was letting green overtake his mind, he’d marveled a bit at Superboy, and the way the Justice League seemed to speak about it. How bad do you have to be to be Superman’s own son, (sorta), and still have him hold you at arms length. But after Tim’s stories, and after meeting him now, Jason was pretty sure Superman was in the wrong.

You really couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

“Nah. You’re right,” Jason said. “God knows none of the Bats want anything to do with me, so this stupid sort-of truce with this stupid brother’s all I got.”

Conner glanced over at him, surprised. Jason couldn’t blame him, he was a little taken aback at how easily the confession had spilled out of him too. They both knew how closed off people in their line of work were, but Conner seemed to take Jason’s words as an olive branch.

“You were right too. Found out the fun way that parents aren’t worth shit. So the team’s all I got, and Tim’s a big part of that.”

“The kid fucking hates you,” Jason said, putting some good-natured humor into his words to let Conner know he wasn’t entirely serious. “Loves you to death, but complains about you to me all the time.”

Conner snorted. “Look who’s talking. Every week at Titans Tower, it’s all ‘Jason won’t stop scaring off all my informants’ and ‘Jason spit on my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.’”

“You can’t blame me for that last one, aight?” 

“No, I agree with you,” Conner said. “That movie was terrible. I don’t know why Tim likes it.”

“Because he’s a goddamn loser,” Jason said. He couldn’t say he was expecting Conner to know who he was, much less from stories Tim had told him. But it felt...good, in a way. Nice to be recognized by his media tastes instead of his bone-chilling reputation. Nice to know that the guy Tim wouldn’t shut up about to him knew who he was.

Silence fell in between them again, but it was comfortable, mutually acknowledged and let rest. Jason didn’t break it when Conner stood up, brushed a kiss to Tim’s hair, and left the hospital much quieter than he came. Jason didn’t break it when he made to leave either, squeezing Tim’s hand and mentally willing him to heal faster. Jason didn’t break it all the way home. 

The next day found Jason in a similar position. The positive side of being a mob boss: he didn’t have much in the way of a day job. He didn’t know why cramming himself into an uncomfortable position to stare, with a tight throat, at a kid in a medically induced coma was what he decided to do with his day.

Maybe because the kid had grown on him, latched onto his heart like a leech and didn’t let go until Jason could ruffle his hair and think of him as a little brother without physically throwing up. 

And maybe because he wanted to see Conner again. He didn’t know why, but their brief talk yesterday had loosened something inside his chest. He was used mulling over his regrets, used to Bruce condemning him and giving up on him as a lost cause, used to Dick trying to brush everything aside and form a bond with him again. He wasn’t used to someone staring his sins in the face, then shrugging and forgiving him. 

Forgiveness was much lighter and much less guilt-ridden than Jason expected, and he wanted more of it. From the way Conner had sunk into the same line of thinking as Jason, he wanted more of it too.

Conner didn’t disappoint him, but Jason wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hopes up high enough to be disappointed in the first place. Calmer, now that he knew Tim was doing better, Conner leaned against the doorframe of hospital room, staring at their resident comatose with a little frown on his lips.

Jason took the time to study him. A black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a little more showy than the practical brown one draped across the back of the chair Jason was sitting on. He supposed it fitted in with Superboy’s theme, because anyone who wore that pinwheel-bright costume with the fucking thigh holster Jason saw pictures of online was more than a little showy. There wasn’t much proof of in his simple t-shirt and jeans, though, and Jason almost would’ve been disappointed if it weren’t for the earring hanging from his left earlobe and the tall black boots with glinting metal lace hooks that stretched up their length. Jason bet he owned the exact pair of fingerless gloves that were wrapped around Conner’s wrists right now.

In all of Tim’s vivid descriptions of the guy, Jason never realized how much he had in common with the guy, at least cosmetically.

“How’s he doing?” Conner asked, and jolted Jason out of his reverie. He didn’t make any indication he caught Jason looking, but Jason eyed him in slight embarrassment just in case.

Realizing that Conner was actually waiting for an answer, Jason cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit from his relaxed sprawl. “They say they’ll bring him out of it tomorrow, then a week here before he can go home. That is, if he doesn’t wake up on his own. The doctors say they’re astounded at how fast he’s recovering.”

Conner snorted, then stepped fully into the room. “Can you build up an immunity to injury? Or, like, have your body develop a mini healing factor or something? Just based on the kind of shit we’ve gone through over the years?”

Jason didn’t miss the way Conner put feather’s touch more emphasis on “we,” or the way his eyes flicked over to Jason. “At this point, I’m sure it’s the only way we’ve stayed alive so long.”

“No you didn’t,” Conner chuckled.

Jason’s head whipped up, staring at the other boy with disbelief threading through his mind. It had taken months for Dick to start making death jokes, and even then, he hesitated a bit, as if making sure Jason was okay with it. But after one meeting, Conner just steamrolled ahead, every bit as confident as he appeared to be. Jason found himself laughing too, with genuine amusement albeit a little punched out.

Crossing the room to seat himself in the remaining plastic chair, Conner sunk down with a sigh. “I just want him to wake up already.”

“Yeah, well. Who doesn’t?” Jason said, feeling unreasonably a little disappointed. Of course Conner wanted to talk about Tim, that was the whole reason he’d come to the hospital in the first place. He’d only known Jason for an hour, and a large part of that was spent trading insults back and forth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about how Jason was doing.

“So,” Conner said, turning away from the hospital bed. “How are you doing?”

Or maybe he did. Jason didn’t know what to call the little bubble of satisfaction that flew up his throat and popped in his mouth. “Not bad. Life as a mob boss is kinda boring, whaddya know. You?”

“Playing den mother for a bunch of hypercompetent yet cluelessly stupid baby superheroes is not how I imagined my life going.”

“Playing den mother?”

Conner wrinkled his nose, in a motion that was in no way cute, honestly kind of gross and flat. Jason found himself staring nonetheless. “Bart used to call me Team Mom back when we founded the team, and it caught on. Now, Cassie leads, but since even she says it, everyone fucking says it. They ask me for granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“And?”

Conner sighed. “I give them granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“There you go,” Jason  said, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“I swear I’m not usually this lame,” Conner pleaded, and his half-smile was aimed straight towards Jason.

“No, no, I believe you. Tim’s told me stories,” Jason said. “Didn’t you once throw some guy into a police car so hard, the car dented and they had to call in a helicopter so the guy didn’t die on the way to the hospital?”

Conner flushed, and Jason found it just as entrancing as last time. “He tried to touch Cassie,” he explained. “And she can take care of herself more than well, I know. I just got a bit...overprotective.”

Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was badass.”

“Really?” Conner’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “Because the League thought it was proof of my, fuck, what was it? Violent, destructive tendencies mirrored on a smaller scale of the schemes of Lex Luthor. Something along those lines.”

Shaking his head with desideration, Jason scoffed. “Sounds about accurate. Besides, you don’t wanna know what the League thinks of me.”

“What?”

“Aside from, like, Joker and Two-Face and Mad Hatter and shit, Red Hood is one one of Batman’s most powerful and dangerous rogues, and must be stopped at all costs.”

Conner was laughing before Jason even finished talking. “I love that for you,” he said. “You’re just so powerful and dangerous. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Jason shoved him lightly, and felt Conner give way on purpose, ignoring how natural and easy the motion felt. “Whatever you say, Luthor Lite.”

“Well, guess I found my new superhero name,” Conner said, finger held up to his chin in mock-thought as if musing something extremely important.

“It’s perfect,” Jason said. “And here we have Conner Kent, ordinary punk-rock farmer. But he’s hiding a secret! When his ‘violent and destructive tendencies’ come out, he turns into...Luthor Lite!”

The two of them collapsed into muffled laughter, Jason stifling his noise by biting his lip and Conner putting his head in the crook of his arm to hide his red face. Pity, Jason liked that flush.

Straightening up with a sigh, Conner offered Jason a little grin. Crimson was still creeping along his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, and Jason was suddenly struck by the urge to trace it.

“Kon,” Conner said.

“What?”

“Call me Kon,” Conner said. “Everyone does.”

“Kon, huh? With a K, right?” Jason asked, then nodded thoughtfully when Conner made a noise of affirmation. “Is it Kryptonian or something?”

A rueful expression stole it’s way onto Conner’s face, mischievous lips and daring eyes staring at Jason as if challenging him. “Yeah. Kon-el. Kryptonian for ‘abomination’. It’s what they thought of clones.”

A pause. Then, “Wow.” Jason bust out laughing for the second time. “That’s metal as fuck. Good for you, Kon.”

“Says the guy who took the name of the person who killed him, then twisted it into something so horrifying that now, no one else associates it with anything other than you.”

“Is that judgement I hear?”

“Respect,” Kon said, and his smile was oddly shy, the first time he’d shown that emotion since he’d met Jason. Jason liked the way it looked on him; it suited him oddly well.

They were quiet for a minute, grinning at each other like buffoons, but Jason couldn’t find the heart to stop. Eventually, Kon stood up and rolled out his shoulders to stretch. “I gotta get going. I’m meeting Bart and Cassie, updating them about Tim.”

“They’re waking Tim up in the afternoon,” Jason said. “Bruce is gonna be here, plus Steph. So I’d stay clear.”

“Gotcha, thanks. I’ll come in the morning.”

A proposition, if Jason ever saw one, and there was no way he could have refused. “I’ll be here,” he said, and kept his eyes on Kon until he rounded a corner, away from sight.

Kon was already there when Jason came to visit Tim the next day, and he gave him a friendly, if a tad flirtatious, smile. Jason responded, accidentally putting too much emotion into the greeting than he would have liked, but it made Kon brighten, so Jason didn’t feel too bad. 

Dropping heavily into what had become “his” chair, Jason shrugged off his jacket. He gave himself a mental high-five when he noticed Kon staring at his shoulders, but made no motion to address it.

“If all goes to plan, he’ll be the same annoying little prep boy that’s always annoying the hell out of me by tonight,” Jason said.

“He’ll be fine,” Kon said, and his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of confidence curling around his words. He sounded like he had utter faith in Tim. Jason wished some of that would bleed over.

“He’s a tough little shit,” Jason said, then repeated Kon’s words. “He’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Hm?” Jason raised an inquiring brow. “Oh, I’m all good It’s not me that’s hurt.”

“Jason,” Kon snorted. “If I have learned anything over the past two days, it is the fact that you are most definitely not ‘all good.’”

“Yeah well,” Jason said. “You’re one to talk.”

Kon made a noncommittal noise, and shrugged as if to say what can you do? “We’ve all got issues. But I get the feeling that you’re not as closed off and angry as you let people believe. Or maybe you are, but you don’t want to.”

Jason bit back the first response that came into his mind, telling Kon that no, he was closed off and angry, just not with him. But that wasn’t the truth, and he definitely didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. So instead, he said, “Maybe. Not gonna lie, from the way Tim and everyone talks about you, I was expecting more...”

“Cocky little frat boy?” Kon asked, smirking.

“More or less.”

Kon sighed, then looked down to where his hands were fiddling with each other. “Superman doesn’t act like a cocky little frat boy. Neither does Lex Luthor.”

“You’re not either of them,” Jason said, realization pouring into his mind like spilled oil. “You’re not either of them, but no one else seems to get that, so you make it as obvious as possible.”

“A couple people got that eventually,” Conner said, looking up at Tim with a soft smile. “Not many, though. And none as quickly as you.”

Kon leaned back, level with Jason now, turned to face him, something on his face that Jason couldn’t read. The chairs seemed much closer than Jason could remember, but he wasn’t very much banking on his memory right now. 

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, feeling a little lame. “What can I say. Misery likes company, and companies read each other through water.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“I came up with it,” Jason said. 

“I like it,” Kon smiled, then leaned forward with an ease Jason had been determined to build up first.

A little peeved at Kon beating him to it, Jason closed the distance first, the kiss probably a little too rough. But given the way they’d met, Jason felt like the bite he gave Kon was justified, even if the other boy was invulnerable.

Jason had made plenty of bad decisions in his life, and he knew exactly what they felt like. This wasn’t one of them. There was no chance that the way Kon’s hands coming up to cup Jason’s face, dragging his nail down Jason’s jaw, was anything other than good. No chance the way Kon’s soft hair suddenly threaded through his fingers was anything other than soft, no chance the soft noise Kon made in the back of his throat was anything other than delightful.

Yeah, Jason knew bad decisions. And despite the avalanche of bad decisions that seemed to make up every inch of Jason, from his scarred hands to his chipped nails, despite the pile-up of thoughtless ideas that led to this boy being made, despite how intimately familiar Jason was with regrets, he was certain Conner Kent wasn’t one of them.

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

this was almost 4k what the fuck

also. please imagine tim waking up to see his best friend and older brother aggressively making out in the plastic hospital chairs next to him. 

anway, suddenly i have a new ship.

imma post this on ao3 later, it got a bit long

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

[chocolate-parfait]

can I suggest a headcanon for arthur, theo and comte ( or dazai ) reacting to their selectively mute s/o speaking for the first time? ( maybe even singing? ) you can decide if you want a scenario for one of them and what mc sounds like, wether shes soft spoken or has a mature voice~ whatever you feel comfortable with >:0 👌 — have a nice day ! ♡

I made some research to write this but tell me if anything's inaccurate or wrong! I'll fix it right away

Selectively mute MC - ikevamp headcanons (Arthur, Theo & Comte)

Arthur

Arthur's a bit suspicious when he sees how uncomfortable you seem to be on your first night. No normal person would feel completely at ease, that's for sure, and yet the way your gaze flickers around the room, the way you fidget with your own hands, the look of pure anxiety on your pretty features, they're all blatant red flags for him, though he decides to let you be. It's your first night, after all, for all he knows you could just be terribly shy, right?

He started piecing the signs together after a couple days when your voice was yet to be heard. The only thing they knew was your name, which you wrote on a piece of paper after Vincent's many soft encouragements.

The English writer had tried flirting with you a couple times, but after being met with the same indicators of discomfort as night one, he decided to step back and watch from the sidelines, occasionally helping others translate whatever you were trying to tell them with your body language.

Selective mutism had been diagnosed around 1870 for the first time, and although it was still a relatively new medical condition, he still was a couple decades more experienced when it came to medicine. After realizing that was your case, he moved to inform everyone in the mansion so that they could adjust their behaviors and avoid causing you too much distress.

Eventually Arthur becomes the person you spend most time with in the whole house; you can feel he genuinely cares and, despite the voices you had heard about his incorrigible attitudes and questionable habits, you start appreciating all the efforts he puts into making sure you're always comfortable and understood (his efforts were very much succeeding, by the way).

On one particular night, you decided to bring some coffee to his room, a silent gesture of support in his regards, but once you entered the bedroom, he turned to look you in the eyes and you saw his beautiful blue orbs, usually alight with mischief, now dark and wavering, surrounded by puffy, red skin. He had been crying. Despite all his best efforts to hide it, everyone knew the writer had his own ghosts from the past haunting him, but seeing him so wretched and broken made your heart squeeze in sympathy and pity.

Seeing your worried expression Arthur immediately turned the other way, letting out a self deprecating laugh as he thought this was probably not helping with your case at all. "Ah- D-don't worry about me! I just got some dust in my eyes. Clumsy old me-!" You set down the tray on his desk and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"A-arthur, you can tell me. I'm here for you."

His heart almost flew out of his chest as his wide eyes stared at you in disbelief. He abruptly stood up and had to stop himself from hugging you and twirling you around, grabbing your shoulders instead. "MC, you just spoke right now, didn't you?!". He was so shocked he completely forgot about his troubles and spent minutes fawning over you. He didn't realize he was coming off as too strong until he noticed your voice getting quieter and quieter. He then apologized and took a moment to cool himself off.

From then on, your relationship goes through revolutionary changes as he finally gets to learn more about your past, tastes and personality. Each little detail makes him more and more interested in what had been a complete mystery to everyone for days. As the writer of Sherlock Holmes he certainly couldn't let this one chance fly out of the window now, could he?

If his brain malfunctioned when he heard your voice for the first time, it is pretty accurate to say that he almost passed away for the second time when he heard your laugh! It's the best and most effective antidepressant he's tried in a long time, and the more open you become, the more the look in your eyes starts to brighten up, a worthy rival to the breathtaking smile that graces your lips every now and then.

Your voice is sweet, calm and soft, and Arthur feels as if he's floating on a cloud whenever he hears it. It isn't loud, either, making everything you say seem like the most intimate secret one could whisper to a close friend. On the other hand, your laugh is like the clear and light tinkling of a bell. Each time you let out even the smallest of chuckles his cheeks flush with a rosy blush, earning him stares and teasing remarks from the closest fellow vampire in the room.

Slowly, he starts to see his reactions for what they are: sprouts of a new love. As time passes by, he realizes he wants to hear more and more of your voice. He wants to hear you whimper his name lost in overwhelming pleasure, he wants to hear all the sweet nothings and declarations of love you can offer him, comforting words, even gibberish and dark secrets. Everything that comes out of your mouth is like molten gold to him, and he wants it all to himself.

He starts bragging to others, though it does not take long before you're comfortable enough to grace them with the sound of what Arthur has come to love so much. On one side he's jealous because you've denied him the privilege of being the only one to hear your voice, but at the same time he's also extremely proud of you! You're finally happy and there's no more traces of anxiety and worry in your eyes whenever you're surrounded by the other vampires, and that's one of the most important milestones he's honored have witnessed by your side.

Theo

Let's just say that you and theo start off on the wrong foot. To say that you're frightened of him at first is an understatement, and you very much avoid him for as much as you can. He feels guilt strangling his throat whenever he sees your quivering form running away from him, and after noting that you behaved similarly with everyone and still hadn't uttered a word in days made him worry even more.

Arthur's the one who comes up with a diagnosis, and with that everyone changes their manners and speech to make you feel more at ease. Theo, just like his blue haired friend, is actually pretty good at reading body language so he has no particular struggles when it comes to your needs. Unfortunately, he's not so smooth in regulating his tone and words, which often come out a little to harsh. Vincent often reprimands him for it, and he can't help but feel even worse when he realizes he's probably ruining your whole stay.

He starts distancing himself, and you gradually start sticking by the local angel's side, never leaving him for even a second; his vibes are so pure and soothing that they help you out with your anxiety and symptoms. Needless to say, he's also very understanding and is not at all bothered to speak in your stead. This leads to Vincent being the first one to hear your voice, and he's without doubt elated, but he also wishes for you to be able to socialize with the others, too. Theo in particular.

After days and days of the artist's endless rants on how good his little brother actually is, your image of the gruff man has been replaced by that of a soft hearted puppy. Too bad that this soft puppy looks like a hungry hunt dog more than a small, soft cloud of love.

Ironically enough, what brings you and Theo to a new stage of your basically nonexistent relationship is King. In the dog's presence he lets his guards down and turns into a loving owner of a very good and friendly golden nugget, subsequently becoming more approachable. Besides, everyone knows how helpful animals are in fighting anxiety and social disorders! And on the advice of Arthur, he invites you to his daily walk with his dog, hoping your fear will melt away with time.

He's a stubborn man, and even when such delicate issues come his way, he has no intention of giving up. No matter how much time it'll take him, he believes he's going to convince you he's not that bad as you first thought. Why is he trying so hard though? Well, not only it's something that stems from Vincent's care for you, but it's also something for your own good. If you were to avoid him for a whole month, you'd get nothing out of it, and a constant lingering sense of panic would follow you pretty much anywhere; but living for a whole month in those conditions is a no-no for Theo. He has no intention of uselessly make you suffer like that, and as he reminds himself of that, his willpower strengthens his determination to search for a common ground between you two.

Albeit slowly, you start getting less tense around him, and the fright fades away bit by bit with each walk in the woods with the Dutch art dealer and the excited bundle of golden hair. It's a lengthy process that takes many days, but Theo finally knows his efforts aren't vain when he hears you coo at the golden retriever. "King... you're such a good boy.." You say with with the warmest smile he had ever seen painted on someone's face as you patted his canine friend's head lovingly. In that moment he wished he could frame the scene and hang it up in his room next to his brother's paintings.

He didn't know whether it was the emotion of hearing your voice for the first time or the implications that told him you weren't that scared of him anymore, but he became hyper aware that his wasn't a normal heartbeat. Unsteady and crazy like that of a lovestruck fool. Was this all it took him to fall head over heels for someone? Or was this a process that had started way before?

It still takes you some time to be fully able to speak complete sentences in his presence, but once you do, he's overcome with one of the greatest feelings of satisfaction he had ever felt in his two lives, and he can definitely agree that everything was worth the wait and the labour.

Just like Arthur, your laugh almost makes him fly through the roof, but what turns him into a formless puddle of mushy feelings and amazement is your singing voice. The first time he hears you intone a medley to him he turns to stone and just stays there, unmoving. He has an eye for finding hidden talents, but oh God was your singing unexpected. His feeling may be out of place here, but he's so, so glad to have your singing all to himself. He finds the act extremely intimate, and for how much he may believe he doesn't deserve it, he cannot deny the positive effects it has on him

Sometimes, when you're talking to him, you can see him turn his face away and smile to himself like an idiot. In those times, he's thinking about how far you two came, and how glad he is to have persisted as much as he did.

Comte

Comte emanates a slightly threatening and imposing aura but it can also be calm and placid, like his voice. First and foremost he's a gentleman, but he sometimes comes off as very intimidating to those who are not used being around such strong presences like his. Luckily, he's a very patient man, and you can feel no judgement nor malice coming from him. He's lived a long, long life, and he knows better than overstepping people's boundaries and making fun of their insecurities.

When with him, you can do things at your own pace! If you don't feel like talking then he's totally okay with it; take your time to find your own way and pace of doing things, he'll gladly help if you ever ask him (with gestures or, once you're closer, with words).

The panic you feel in his presence dissolves gradually; there are no particular events that cause a turning point in your relationship, it just happens. Despite living in such a big mansion, avoiding all life forms is pretty much impossible, so you happen to share some interactions every now and then. Sometimes it's an afternoon tea, others it's just him making small talk as you clean his room (he's either talking to himself or asks answers you can nod to if you feel more comfortable). He immediately makes it clear that he doesn't expect nor want to pressure you in delivering any answer, and if you ever happen to feel too overwhelmed he excuses himself and leaves the room.

One day as you were dusting the shelves in his office, he casually says:"The weather's really nice today." But your head doesn't move in assent, instead he receives a shocking reply despite the ordinariness of the topic. "It really is... T-there's not a cloud in the sky, either." A shocked expression momentarily appears on his features, soon replaced by a wide smile as he hums back in agreement.

He doesn't let it show but he's utterly in love with your voice. It's an addiction but he still wants to give you enough space and time to get comfortable with the idea of speaking around him, so he tries to keep himself in check all the time.

It's when he hears you singing that he can't help but feel greedy, and the rare sight of Comte's blushing cheeks greets you for the first time ever. It's his weak point, use it as you may deem ;)

(okay but jokes aside WHY would you ever want to use it against him, he'd build a pyramid with a butter knife while doing a backflip if you asked him to tbh,, the man is Whipped.)

Everything you do has a meaning and a significance, so he's always taking in even the smallest piece of information you may subconsciously slip his way. Seeing how you trust him enough to lower your guards about him makes him all the more appreciative of the bond you two share. For this reason, if you ever want to try and get over your anxiety, he'll be there to walk with you from the first to the last step of your journey.

His favorite thing is when he's holding you in his arms, nuzzled against his chest while he dozes off to your heavenly humming. It makes him feel like a prince living his happy ever after in a fairytale and he couldn't be more grateful.

[rhmg-au]

“’Ello- Oh-!”

As the cyborg stepped in, he was greeted by the worried stare of the doctor. He was mostly surprised to see the General being in the same room. He fully lets himself in and shuts the door.

“General sir!” Green gave a quick salute.

“Green.” Galeforce acknowledges. His voice was stern, but there was hints of concern. “Dr. V told me there was something wrong so I came here as fast as I could.”

“A-A-Ah-! I h-hope I wasn’t cutting off something i-important-!” Green apologized but then Dr. V intervened.

“Green, your stuttering is getting worse. Time is of essence. I will perform diagnostic on you so you go to other room, da?” She said, pointing at a door that leads to another part of the lab. “You wait there while I get ready, understood?”

“Y-Yes, doct-t-teerr-” Green walked off into the other room, occasionally shaking his head to brush off a jolt of pain. Once the door closed, his two “creators” were left alone.

“...Code Red Light, is it?”

Dr. V nodded and showed Galeforce the notes on her clipboard. “He’s responding negatively to certain phrases and sights, as I told before Green came in. What I worry most is the worst spike when he responded...or should I say, questioned the name....Right.”

The General clenched his fist, “He’s remembering.” He said coldly.

“That might be the case.” 

“I thought you said you’ve wiped off everything within his memories. There should be no way he could remember if done so.” Galeforce seemed mad at Dr. V, but she shrugged in response.

She adjusted her glasses before she continues, “It is true that I have wiped all memories, but with this incident, we gain insight of his deeper state of memory. Deeper than the surface memories, which was more or less completely wiped off.” She flipped her notes, revealing a diagram, looking like layers. “Green, despite passing prior tests, is still in constant development and in a sense, we’ve only scratched the surface. We are here and there are possibilities of deeper layers.”

Galeforce fiddled with his goatee while Dr. V explained the schemes, “Is it not possible to delete everything in one go? To the roots?”

Dr. V shook her head, “Breaching one’s memories isn’t easy sir. All we can do now is observe, test and react one step at a time. With the current issue, what we could do is block off specific things in his memory - like a blacklist in his database.” She flipped the notes back to first page. “Which include the memories of Reginald Copperbottom and reacting to Right.”

“Will this guarantee in fewer incidents like this?”

“It should be so.” She got some work gloves on. “After I rewire these blacklist commands, we still need to put him on another test to see if he complies to these commands. That should not be problem for you, da?”

The General pulled off a smirk as he pulled out a controller, “Not at all, doctor.”

“Well then.” The doctor grabbed her clipboard once again and walked to the door leading to the other room. “We must not waste any time. If he reverts we are done for.”

A quick nod and the two entered.

(TW for restraints, a distressed Green, mind control, memory wiping and hoo boy :])

Green whistled a little tune to keep him distracted from the constant buzzing in his cybernetics as he dangled his feet over the edge of the medical bed. He pondered on what Galeforce and Dr. V was discussing on the other side, hoping whatever his issue is isn’t too serious or anything. (Besides, he might miss game night with the gang!)

His little whistling was cut off when the two entered the room. He gave them a sincere smile as a welcome.

“Hello Green, sorry to keep you waiting, boy.” Galeforce tipped his hat in apology but Green shook his head.

“No worries sir! I didn’t wait for long anyways, so alls good!” Green said cheerfully, gaining a small chuckle from Galeforce. “So...m-my issue? Should I u-uh, lay down or something-?”

Dr. V shook her head and instead points to a chair. “I will run diagnostic on system first so you sit and I will link to computer.” Green gladly followed her instructions and insisted on connecting the cables and wires himself. He had went through many of these diagnostics he had the wires practically on memory. “Good, now stay still while I check.” She said as she sat by her computers and booting them all up.

Galeforce took a seat facing Green and again was greeted with his smile, “Green my boy, I heard you went on with the scheduled training without my permission, is that true?”

Green gawked and hung his head, “Th-That is t-t-t-true, General....Sorry, I probably wouldn’t end up l-like this if I didn’t....” 

“No no, what is happening is not your fault. Your systems are fairly new so there should be glitches that we missed. But not to worry, Dr. V here will fix you as good as new, okay?” A sweet reassuring smile. Galeforce then turns towards Dr. V, “Are the diagnostics up?” His hands gave out a particular signal, which the doctor nodded to.

“The primary system diagnostics are completed and there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the regular. I suggest we try a full database scanning in case problem resides there and run several tests.” Her fingers swiftly typed in commands after commands before eventually doing the database scan. A bright red was reflected from her glasses as she curled up a small smile, “There we go.”

Green tilted his head slightly before noticing the red reflection, “Oh no! Is it b-b-bad, doctor?”

“We found the culprit. Seems to be several files within you mem-...mm..optics files.” She corrected herself before any slip ups. “You said you seeing things and glitching, yes? Well, seems like there are some bad file readings in your optical codes and what nots.” Lie. Lie it off. “I can try to fix it, but I will need to run a few....gimmicks testing to make sure. Are you okay with that, Green?”

“Sure! Just like usual!”

“Good. Now....” She began typing again. She started with a good memory file to be played on Green’s visions. A memory of Charles. “Green, I want you to tell me what you see or think right now.”

Green blinked before focusing on the vision being played out, “Oh! It’s Charlie!! Yeah, this is when I beat him and the Twins in Mario Kart! Haha! Love that defeated look of his!” He blinked and the vision stopped, “Aw.”

Dr. V continues to play out several memory files to bait him, before signaling Galeforce to step in. The General nods and scoots his seat closer to Green.

“Everything good?”

“Yes sir~!” Green chirped as a memory of him cradling one of the soldier’s pet cat was being played out. “Funny fuzzy friend is on my visions now!”

And comes the trick question.

“That’s good. Anyways, I have a question for you, Right Hand Man.”

“Yes?”

Silence.

“Odd. I didn’t call your name, Green. You responded to the name Right.”

That’s when Green’s cybernetic eye starts to glitch once more....followed by a sudden distressed look on his human eye. “I-- W-Wait-- But I---” The stutters and glitches came back.

Galeforce’s assuring aura drops into a cold stare at the sight of the cyborg glitching. “Have you forgotten your own name...that you’re responding to another? The one we once told was wrong?”

“N-No sss-sir I-- That n-name sound-- ffff-amiliar-- I-”

There it is.

“Dr. V. Get to it. And while you’re at it, get rid of Copperbottom’s files as well.” Galeforce stood up from his seat and ordered.

“Wh--at-?”

“Yes sir.” She quickly entered termination codes and sent them to the two problematic memory files. The first to go was the name file as the progress window popped up. The termination was slow....and painful on Green’s behalf.

Green held his head and whimpered as the file was slowly deleted. Luckily, he did not struggle too much and before he knows it, the file was deleted off his database. 

But that was not the last. 

Once FILE:RIGHT.mem was deleted....it was FILE:RC.mem on the progress window. Reginald’s files.

That struck an immediate hard blow onto Green’s cybernetics as he screamed in agony, as if refusing for the files to be deleted. He struggled and tries to stand up before Galeforce grabs him and shoves him back to the seat and restraints locking him in place. The progress was painfully slow as the system seemed to be resisting the termination commands. Like a war playing out within Green’s mind. Tears flowed freely through his cheek with the overwhelming pain in his head.

“WHAT’S...W-W-W-WHAT”S HHHHAPPENINGGGGG--?!?!?” He tried to focus on Galeforce, who stood coldly in front of him. “GGGENERAL-- WH-WHAT’S HAPPENING T-TO ME--?! I-IT-- M-MY HEAD--!!” 

“There is nothing to fear, Green. Relax. We are merely fixing you.”

“B-BUT--! YOU---” His cybernetic eye flashed the dreadful red for a split second, but that was enough to make Galeforce put on his death glare. “YOU CAN’T DDDDDDDDDELETE---!!!”

“He is remembering. The system is trying to fight back the commands. The deleting progress is stuck on 34%.” Dr. V reported, trying to retain her calm demeanor despite Green now showing signs of reverting to Right. “What do we do now, General?”

“What else?” He looked at the doctor dead in the eye. “Add more commands. It’s about time we rewire him into the perfect weapon.”

On command, more aggressive codes were inputted and soon the progress bar increases - much to Green’s inconvenience. His struggles became more frantic with every percentage of deletion. But as the progress bar nears completion, he weakens in his struggles.

“P-Please--!”

78%

“I d-don’t-”

85%

“N-No--”

98% 

“I-” Green’s vision starts to blur out, as he could only make out the faint looks of The General and Dr. V standing in front of him. 

“Hush now Green.”

98%

“This is for your and our own good.”

98%

“N...” His visions starts to glitch out.

99%

“Sweet dreams, Green.”

100%

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

> FILE:RIGHT.mem successfully deleted.

> FILE:RC.mem successfully deleted.

> COMMAND:Recalibrate Memory File Order

> COMMAND:Update System Commands

> COMMAND:Update Firewall

> COMMAND:Run System Diagnostic

> COMMAND:Run Full System Scan

> COMMAND:Reboot PRJ_GREEN.exe

> COMMAND:Update PROJECT GREEN Database

[ PROJECT GREEN DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED ]

[ Green is unavailable for asks until further notice ]

[ SIGNOUT:GALEFORCE ]

[ SIGNOUT:VINSCHPINSILSTIEN ]

[chubbybuckydumpling]

A Doctor’s Tale

words: 6.9k

relationship: Bruce Banner x desi!daughter!Reader

warnings: character death, slight spoilers for Marvel Studio’s The Avengers, fluff, angst

A/n: thank you so much @gotnofucks for helping me with this idea! You’re so kind and I hope I didn’t make this offensive in any way. I’m happy for any corrections. Please be kind, this was very difficult for me to write and I committed a few writing sins. I hope you’ll enjoy this any way :) (gif by @steves-on-a-plane)

My Masterlist | Part 2

The air was heavy with moisture, yet the heat of the day has not passed. Bruce heaved with exhaustion, the new climate put a noticeable strain on his body. The temperatures made him sweat vigorously and gave him a headache, especially on his way up these damned stairs. He would need to get adjusted to his new surroundings before he could work efficiently.

Another thing he would need to tolerate were the bustling streets. Everywhere Bruce looked, there were crowds of people, so close together it made his hands shake with anxiety. He preferred taking longer routes that were less public and less triggering.

After he had become afflicted with the other guy, Bruce couldn't stay. He was hunted down by the United States Armed Forces, so he had to flee. He knew he could hide in India without much trouble. He read about the country and their societal norms, so he felt somewhat calm, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of Kolkata.

The city was beautiful, of course. He admired the architecture and the many different buildings. He loved the parks, the bridges and the temples. The different kinds of food made him especially happy, yet he hated how talkative and social everyone is. No matter where he went, someone would try to bond with him, which triggered his anxiety.

Generally speaking, he enjoyed life in India, if it weren't for that unbearable weather. As he arrived at the top of the stairs, his shirt was wet from his sweat and the overly high humidity. With a sigh he pulled out a bottle of water to rehydrate – the amount of water he must have lost is remarkable. The water was warm and not as relieving as he had hoped, but it would have to suffice.

With one arm, Bruce wiped away the sweat that formed on his forehead, before he entered the house he was looking for. He heard about this shelter where some women took in ill women and children who could not afford to go to the hospital. Bruce had admired their dedication and hoped they would accept him as a volunteer.

With cautious eyes he looked around the room. He could see that the owners try their best to keep it clean and welcoming, but the smell of illness is prominent in the air. This chamber is obviously designed to be a reception area to check in their patients, but the cheap chairs and chipped wooden table were a sign of a lack of money. They were probably spending it on medical supplies and food.

Bruce stepped further into the room, the floorboards creaking, “Hello? May I speak to anyone?” Shyly, he began to play with his fingers, feet shuffling nervously.

A beautiful woman entered the room from one of the four doors and Bruce sucked in a breath when her sparkling eyes met his. She looked exhausted, but nothing could ever dim her beauty. The floor creaked slightly as she made her way to stand in front of him. She was small, yet her confidence was unmissable.

The woman raised an eyebrow, “What can I do for you, sir?” Bruce swallowed and let out the breath he had been holding, “I'm Bruce Banner. I heard about your work here. Uhm, are you the head doctor?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head, looking at him sceptically, but nodded nevertheless. “I would like to offer my help. I think this non-profit is incredible and I would love to assist?”

Finally, he broke eye contact and stared at the floor, terrified of the woman's reaction. Now, he could not see the amused smile playing on the smaller woman's lips, “Well, Bruce, how could I ever deny any help. However, I would quite like to learn something about your background, you know. Any qualifications?” Quickly, Bruce looked up a panicked look in his eyes, “Of course, I'm sorry, I should have mentioned that beforehand. I'll answer any questions, I'm sorry!”

She smiled a big toothy smile and jerked her head towards the sink, “Let me just...”. Bruce nodded quickly. It seemed that his usual knowledge of words had disappeared. All he could think about was how soft her brown skin looked and the gentle curves of her face.

“It's Aarohi, by the way”, she spoke as she washed her small hands, “Well, actually Dr. Verma, but we're friends now, right Bruce?” He smiled, completely smitten, “Right”

It was at this point that Bruce knew he would fall in love with her. And he was right. She brought out the best of him, her outgoing and confidant ways helped him to learn about himself and he rekindled with his body and soul. The three and a half years he had been in Kolkata taught him to love himself, admittedly that was still hard for him, but being able to help women and children in need made him feel good. And Aarohi had been by his side the entire time.

She opened her arms and heart for him and lead him through his issues. When he'd wake up screaming from his nightmares she was there to calm him down. His head between her hands as she pressed small kisses all over his face.

When he was too shy to talk to anyone but her, she would do her best to try and include him. By now he was way more comfortable talking to others. It was still scary, but not as panic inducing as it used to be. Bruce became a better man, all because of Aarohi, which is why after only a year and a half, he got down on one knee, hand shaking.

“You are the light in my life. When I arrived in India, everything was dark, but you showed me how to live again. I am a better man, because you bring out the best in me. I love you, with all of my heart. And I know that getting married is not possible for us, at least at the moment, but will you take this promise ring, for I promise I will forever love and cherish you, support you through thick and thin, in times of hardship and in times of ease. You are my world d without you I'd be lost. Aarohi, please accept this ring as a sign of my devotion” - and she did.

It wasn't really a surprise when she became pregnant shortly afterwards. Bruce had never been so happy before. Sometimes he feared about the other guy. What would happen if he came out or even worse, if their child would have his monster DNA, but his spouse reassured him and kept him calm as best as she could, “He hasn't come out for your whole stay in Kolkata and even if he would, I love every part of you, Bruce”

And once their baby girl was born, he was head over heels for you. From the moment he layed eyes on you he knew that he would do anything for you. “Bruce, do you want to hold her? Do you want to meet your daddy, shona?” It felt like time was frozen when he held you in his arms, your tiny fingers mindlessly holding onto him, a tiny yawn falling from your mouth.

And at times it was really hard. Bruce nor Aarohi wanted to stop working, their little clinic meant to much for them. So they switched between watching you and working. Bruce would have loved to bring you with him, but the chances of you catching a disease were too high to risk it. And therefore, your parents spent most of their time apart, yet their relationship kept growing stronger. Bruce's love for your mother increased every day and even now that you're eight months old his heart still swelled when he looked at her.

It's another hot day, the heat and humidity weighing heavily over Kolkata. Bruce is sitting at the kitchen table shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat. The smell of tea fills the air as his thick and delicate fingers fumble with the warm cup, his eyes trained on your sleeping body. He smiles and walks over to your crib, a smile on his face, “I love you, shona”, he whispers before he gently takes you out of your little bed and cradles you in his arms.

Bonding with you means everything to Bruce. He adores you with every fibre of his being, which is why skin on skin is one of his favourite activities. To feel you and to know you're alive coats him in a sense of calmness. He sits back down at the table and rubs soothing circles onto your back, “Daddy's got you, shona don't you ever worry your pretty little head. I promise I'll protect you” Soft lips press onto your forehead, your father's scent surrounding you, “Always and forever”

Bruce gently rocks you while humming a soft melody and simply enjoying the moment. Peace and quiet are a rare occurrence in his days which is why he cherished them so deeply. Bruce loved to trace your features, to see how you look so similar to him.

He could hear Aarohi return before he spotted her through the window which allowed him to quickly dash to the door with you, still safely pressed to his chest. The door creaks as he opens it, a smile immediately covering his face as he spreads his arms for a hug, “ Welcome home Momma, we missed you so much” She laughs at his adorable greeting and steps into his embrace. Both of them are sweaty, but the feeling of their loved one is overpowering, dulling the stickiness of their bodies. Bruce gazes into her eyes as if she had hung the stars and he feels his heart flutter. It only takes a moment before their lips meet in a gentle kiss, emotions and love poured into it, “I love you, Bruce” - “I love you too. So much”

Suddenly, a small cry disturbs their moment, “Oh Y/n, shona, what's wrong? Did you miss Momma?”, she coos and takes you out of Bruce's embrace, “Don't cry, Momma's got you. Are you hungry? That's fine, I'm here” She smiles and gently strokes your hair. “She's had some fruit and veggies and a bottle that you've prepared”, he mentions as he walks into the bedroom to fetch a shirt. Aarohi smiled down at you, her beautiful daughter, “Have you been such a good girl eating all your veggies?” She takes off her bloodied and stained shirt from work and lets down her bra to feed you.

Exhaustion is clear on her face, but even when she sighs, she's the most beautiful woman Bruce has ever seen. Especially while she nourishes you, his own flesh and blood, he can feel his heart swell. She keeps you alive and healthy, the biggest gift he could have ever received. He makes his way over to the two of you and brushes some strands of hair out of her face that must have come loose from her tight bun, “How is everything at the clinic?”

“It's really stressful. I think something is going around. We'll see more of this virus for sure.”, she sighs looking down at you, “We need to be especially careful. I don't want Y/n to fall ill. Not with this” Their gazes meet “I'll make sure to be extra sterile then”, he whispers before pressing his lips to her temple.

She leans into him with a smile, eyes closed, “Thank you” His hand gently rubs over her arm, his thumb drawing circles. After a while you let out a whine, fed and sated. “Oh, shona, are you done? Does Momma need to burp you?” She wrestles you up on her shoulder to pat her soft hand against your back.

“It's very busy back there, you should hurry. Our doctors can't keep up with them alone.”, she whispers, turning her head to look at Bruce. He nods and leans down to capture her lips into a kiss. It's gentle and sweet, just like her, “I love you”, he mumbles against her lips. Then, he leans down to press a kiss onto your head, “I love you too, shona” Aarohi grins and turns you around to face him, “We love you too, Daddy”, she says and waves with your hands in her hands.

Bruce had absolutely no idea why he let himself get dragged into this mess. Actually he did, how could he ever say no to the pleading eyes of that little girl. She looked so tiny and scared and he could see you in that girl. Hopeless and scared. So he followed her, clueless about the events that were to follow soon.

Regret fills Bruce the moment he enters the house and helplessly watches as the girl leaves through a window – no ill father in sight. He huffs, a self-deprecating smile on his lips, “Should have gotten paid up front, Banner”

“You know”, a voice calls out to him suddenly, “For a man ho's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle” A woman appears out of the shadows, short, curly, red hair frames her face. She looks absolutely stunning. Carefully, Bruce puts down his medical bag and turns towards the female, “Avoiding stress isn't the secret”

She raises her eyebrow, “Then what is it? Yoga?”, she jokes, no humour in her voice. Nerves arising, he rubs his hands together to calm himself, “You brought me to the edge of the city”, he remarks, looking out of a window, “Smart”. With his hands clutched, Bruce walks towards it in an attempt to scan the area “ I uh,”, he mumbles, “I assume the whole place is surrounded?”

The woman takes off her red cardigan and moves towards him, “Just you and me”. “And your actress buddy?”, he questions, “She was a spy too? They start that young?” He walks back towards the middle of the room. “I did”, she answers. “Who are you?”. He is nervous and he feels his anxiety crawling up his back. “Natasha Romanoff”

Silence. Bruce still fiddles with his fingers, but after a moment he looks directly into her eyes, “Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff? Because that's not gonna work out... for everyone”. Natasha slowly moves closer to him, “No, no of course not”, she shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed, “I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D”.

He looks down and rubs his hands, “S.H.I.E.L.D”, he states monotonously, “How did they find me?” Looking up, Bruce sees her looking at him, “We never lost you, doctor. We've kept our distance. Even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent”, her voice is low like she's trying to speak extra calm. “Why?”, Bruce asks.

“Nick Fury seems to trust you”, she answers seriously, “But now we need you to come in”. He can't help but smile, “What if I say no?” Natasha smirks, her eyes twinkling dangerously, “I'll persuade you” He looks down, his pink tongue licking over his lips in thought, “What if”, he pauses to look up, “the other guy says no?” There it was, the elephant in the room.

Bruce is very proud that ever since he fled to India, the Hulk has not made an appearance. He did not receive any unwanted attention and lived life normally. He was able to be a good partner and father, never giving in to his anger. But now, things might change and that scares him. He does not want to let the monster out. It seems like Natasha knows that as well.

“You've been more than three years without an incident, I don't think you want to break that streak”, she says and turns away from him. The echo of her steps fills the room. “Well I don't every time get what I want” When he looks at the woman, she is walking towards him, a phone in her hands, “Doctor, we're facing a global catastrophe”

A self-deprecating chuckle escapes his lips, “Well, those I actively try to avoid” Without giving any thought to his statement, Natasha sits down at a small table that is situated in the room and shows him a picture of a bright, blue glowing cube, “This”, she starts and slides the phone towards him, “is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet”

Bruce fetches his glasses out of his spectacles case and puts them on. Cautiously, he grabs the phone to get a better look of the cube, In confusion, he lifts his head, “What does Fury want me to do, swallow it?” Natasha leans forward while keeping eye contact, “He wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one who knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, then that's where I'd be”

Natasha leans back in her chair as he takes off his glasses, “So, Fury isn't after the monster?” “Not that he's told me”, she says calmly. “And he tells you everything?”, Bruce retorts. Slowly, but with grace, the woman stands up, “Talk to Fury, he needs you on this”. But it's too late, he can feel his fear rising, “He needs me in a cage?”

In an attempt of reassurance, Natasha begins to speak, “No one's gonna put you in a-” but she's interrupted as he suddenly slams his fists onto the table, “STOP LYING TO ME”, he shouts. With the blink of an eye, the woman grabs a gun from under the table and cocks it right into his face. A scared look settles on her face which she quickly tries to fight back.

Bruce steps back from the table. When he speaks again his voice sounds calm and collected, “I'm sorry”, he says, “That was mean”. A smile plays over his lips, “I just wanted to see what you'd do”. Natasha still holds the gun in her hands and Bruce puts his head in front of him to calm the woman down, “Why don't we do this the easy way where you don't use that”, he points to her gun, “and the other guy doesn't make a mess. Okay?”

Silence. “Natasha?”, he asks. The woman slowly lowers her gun, her gaze never leaving Bruce. After a few seconds she activates her earpiece, “Stand down”, she commands, “We're good here”. The eyebrows rise on his face, smile still on his lips, “ 'Just you and me' “, he mocks her earlier words. Natasha doesn't answer, she just stares at him from a few feet away.

“I need to tell my family. I have a daughter I need to tell her goodbye”, he suddenly realises, a panicked look on his face. Tenderly Natasha walks to him and places a hand on his shoulder, “Bruce this is urgent, there's no time”. There's a wild look in his eyes as he frantically runs to grab his bag, “No, please I have to. Y/n she's my daughter, I love her, I- I need to speak to her”

“Bruce”, the woman's voice is powerful and makes him stop in his tracks, “this is a global threat we are dealing with. There is no time. You can write a letter while we're on the jet. S.H.I.E.L.D will make sure it will arrive as soon as possible”. Bruce looks at the woman with a look that is similar to that of a kicked puppy and yet he sighs in defeat. He will soon come to learn that Natasha Romanoff does not negotiate, she gets what she wants, no questions asked. “Okay”, he whispers and follows the woman outside.

This is why you grew up being raised by a single mother. You love her more than anything in life. She made so many sacrifices and worked harder than any other person you know. She taught you everything she knew, about her work as a doctor, important life skills and most important how to be a decent human being. You try to be as kind and empathetic as you can, but you know your worth and found confidence in yourself.

Of course you're not perfect. You are insecure from time to time like any teenager and you are very temperamental from time to time. However, you are especially sensitive when it comes to the topic of your father. Ever since you could remember your mother talked to you about your father. She told you how kind and caring he is, how he loved you so much. But if he loved you so much, why wasn't he with you, with his family?

He sends letters to you and your mum and money to help you out and you appreciate that, but you wish he would just come up. Sometimes there are articles and reports about the Hulk. Aarohi had told you that your father could turn into him, but that you never had to fear him. And you don't, really. You love your father, but there's no solid relationship between you and your dad.

That is mostly your fault. You never answered your father's letters. Every time you sat down with a piece of paper and a pen nerves got the best of you. With shaky hands you put the pen down before you cried into your hands, careful to evade your mother. So one day you stopped trying.

Currently you're sitting in your room tinkering on one of your inventions. School has been quite easy for you and your mother kept telling you that you inherited your father's intelligence, a proud smile on her lips. Science came to you easily and physics as well as chemistry became your best friends. When you weren't busy helping your mother at the clinic you were experimenting with different chemicals and the laws of nature to try and broaden your understanding of the complex reactions and procedures.

The smell of spices and lemon fills the air in your room from your diffuser sticks while some soft rock plays on the radio. Your head nods involuntarily to the beat of some catchy chorus when you hear footsteps approaching. Not your mother's, she walks lighter than this. You turn around in your seat so you have a good view of the door as it opens to reveal one of the nurses that work for your mother. She frantically runs towards you, her eyes are wide and her lower lip is wobbling.

“Y/n it's your mother”, she whispers and takes a deep breath, “She just collapsed, we don't know why, I'm sorry, Y/n” You freeze at her words, eyes widening. Panic is bubbling up in your chest as your muscles tense, “What do you men? W-Will she be alright?” The woman just looks down which is as much of an answer as you need.

All of a sudden your body releases adrenaline into your bloodstream and you jump from your chair, your heart beating in your throat, “What are you waiting for?”, you yell at her, “Move!”. Your feet are moving on their own accord, the path to the clinic embedded in your brain from the thousands of times you have walked it. Hot wind is whipping your face as you run along the streets, the gravel and dirt scrunching loudly under the soles of your shoes.

You're panting once you arrive at the steps leading to the clinic, the humid air not helping with your struggle for oxygen, but you don't stop moving. The fear coursing through your veins overpowers the exhaustion. “Momma?”, you shout once you've barged through the doors. The floor creaks mournfully under your weight as you fiddle with your fingers. The smell of diseases and antibiotics hangs in the air. Usually you like being here, but now it feels like a weight that presses you down the further you walk in.

A doctor runs down the stairs, her steps rushed. She fixes you with her pitiful eyes and you feel anger bubbling up in your chest. “Y/n, my child, I'm so-” “DON'T”, you interrupt her, tears brimming in your eyes, “She won't die”. The snarling sound that leaves your mouth scares the doctor, but you run past her without care and sprint up the steps.

Upstairs, your mothers is lying on a thin mattress on the ground. Two nurses surround her, one presses a cold, wet cloth to her forehead, the other sits next to her to hold her hand. When she sees you she immediately gets up to make room for you. When your eyes land on your mothers face you release a gasp. She looks nothing like this morning when you saw her last.

She is pale around the nose, all her beautiful colours lost, and her skin is sunken down. Sweat is pooling on her forehead and runs down her temples in miserable lines while her eyes are hooded and half closed. The sound of heavy,  flat breathes reaches your ears which finally breaks you out of your shock.

A few strong steps are enough to reach your mother's weak form. You fall to your knees with a soft thud and grab her hand, “Momma?”, you whisper, the first tears falling. A groan leaves her lips and she coughs nastily, “Shona?”,she croaks. A sob leaves your body and you press your head to hers, “Momma, what's happening?”

Her free hand moves up to cup your cheeks and you straighten to look into her strangely clear eyes, “I'm going to die, shona. I need you to listen to me”, she whispers hoarsely. “No”, you cry. Tears are freely rolling down your face. “No. momma you're not going to die, I won't let you, I promise”, you tell her desperately. You wipe away some tears with the back of your hand, before you open your mouth again. “Y/n”, Aarohi interrupts and you still. She never calls you by your name.

“I beg you, listen to me. I'm sick, been for a while. It's only transmitted over blood, so don't worry”, she pauses to take a breath while she shakily brushes some strands of hair out of your face. “You're a strong woman and I couldn't be prouder of you. Are you listening, Y/n?”, you nod, your vision blurry. “All I want for you is to be happy, okay? No matter what you do as long as you're happy that's all I could ask for, do you understand?”, she rasps out.

“Momma, what-”, you whimper, but she interrupts you again, “Y/n, do you understand?” You sob, but nod through the tears, “Yes, Momma” Her thumb moves to wipe away your tears and she sighs,”Good, That's good”. She coughs again and groans in pain,”Please talk to your father, shona. He loves you so much. Can you promise me that you'll write him?” Her voice sounds even weaker now, but your heart beats way too fast. The only thing cursing through you is fear. “I promise, Momma. I love you”, you cry, snot and tears mixing together.

Aarohi's hand falls from your face as her breathing becomes flatter. She closes her eyes, “I love you too, shona”, the words clumsily tumble from her lips. Your whole body trembles as it convulses. All your power leaves your body and your left to loudly cry next to your mother's death bed.

The next few weeks were hard for you,but you could never forget your mother's last words. You promised her you would reach out to your father, so you did. It wasn't long before you received an answer. His handwriting was shaky and hard to read, but you managed to figure it out, somehow. He told you he could not leave the United States by law, but he would be more than happy to welcome you into his home back in the USA.

You froze when you read his words. He wanted you to leave India, your home? You couldn't, this was your mother's everything. All your belongings and memories are in Kolkata, how could you abandon that? But then you thought back to your mother. She wanted you to be happy, right? And maybe a new beginning wouldn't hurt. After sleeping about your father's letter you realised that a blank slate is exactly what you needed right now. Because you wanted to heal.

So you wrote your father another letter in which you agreed to move in with him and began to pack your bags. You carefully chose which of your mother's things you wanted to bring with you. Many of her clothes ended up in your luggage, her distinctive smell still lingering on the fabric. The two photo albums land in there too. How could you not, they kept all the beautiful pictures of your Momma. You also brought her favourite movies, some cooking books and lots of blankets.

Packing all these things was very hard for you and you lost a lot of tears, but now when you look at all of your bags you feel very accomplished. “I'll make you proud, Momma”, you whisper and grab the one of your stuffed furry toys that you did not put into a bag. It's a medicine bottle with huge eyes and a big smile, which your father gifted you for your third birthday. It's your favourite and you decided to keep it close by for emotional support.

With one last look you sit down on your old bed and wait for your ride. Bruce wrote you that someone from the agency he works for will come and get you. Now, all you have left to do is wait.

“Come on, Bruce. It will be fine. You're shakier than me when I've been running on coffee only”, Tony smirks and pats his friend on the back., “She's your daughter, she loves you”. Bruce looks up at him with wide, slightly red eyes, “Tony, her mother just died”. The news of Aarohi's death hit him hard. Ever since he had to leave India his mental health has been suffering.

The government didn't allow Bruce to leave the country without a written agreement signed by the president. He begged them to let him return to India, but they wouldn't budge. The only thing he achieved was tighter security to keep an eye on him. He doesn't remember how many nights he cried himself to sleep. He couldn't see the love of his life or his daughter. Never before has he felt that low, not when his father murdered his mother nor when he tried to commit suicide after turning into the monster he is, but he could not give up. He wanted to be a better father than his own, he wanted to make you feel loved and appreciated.

So he settled on writing letters to you and your mother. Nothing scared him more than the thought that you might forget him or worse, hate him for leaving. He wrote you letters every months and sent you presents he hoped you would like. His biggest wish was to be as present as possible throughout your life. The only replies were from Aarohi though. She reassured him that you still loved him and talked about her life and the clinic. He wished he could be there with her.

When he finally received a letter from you he was ecstatic, but as soon as he started to read, his face fell. The love of his life is dead. Gone. He sat in his lab in shock for two hours, not moving an inch until Tony entered the room. That's when he broke down crying into his best friend's arms, “She's dead, Tony”, he whispered through his tears.

It was the billionaire's idea to invite you to live in the tower, “I know you miss her. Plus I wouldn't mind having her here. Don't tell anyone I said that, but I'd love to see you smile more often”. This was like the light at the end of a tunnel for Bruce. The thought of having you with him made his heart beat faster. Could he finally become the father you deserved?

And you agreed to his proposal. He opened your letter together with Tony as emotional support and when he read your beautiful, neat handwriting tears of joy shot into his eyes, “She said yes, Tones, she actually wants to come!” and Tony was happy to hold Bruce once more as he let out all of his tears, the tension slowly leaving his body.

Now he is waiting for the Quinjet that carries Natasha and you to arrive back in New York. She volunteered to be the one to accompany you. Even though Bruce told her he wasn't holding any grudges, Natasha felt guilty for ripping Bruce out of his family, so when the chance opened to help reunite them,  she jumped at it.

“Tony”, Bruce asks, his voice wavering as if he's not sure whether or not to continue, “I'm scared, what if she doesn't li-” , but his best friend stops him, “Ah ah ah, no such negativity under my roof!” He pauses to glance at his surroundings, the wind howling around his ears, “or, you know, on my roof” Their eyes meet for a second, before Bruce goes back to rubbing his hands anxiously.

“Seriously Banner, you'll be fine. I've known you for sixteen years and I know that I have fallen in love with you at least three times”, the philanthropist says and smirks at the others shocked expression.

Before any of them can say another word the whirring of the Quinjet sounds from the distance. Bruce immediately straightens all colour draining from his face. A cold sweat is breaking out on his forehead and his hands become clammy. Tony leans forward and whispers gently, “You've got this, Banner”.

It feels like a lifetime, but also only a few seconds before the S.H.I.E.L.D plane lands on the roof and the motors slow down. Bruce holds his breath, scared, but hopeful. His life is about to change in just a few moments, for better or for worse. Nervously, his eyes focus on the exit of the Quinjet as he awaits to see you again, after sixteen years of missing you with all of his heart.

The electric sound of the gate opening makes his hands shake in anticipation. And then he sees you standing next to Natasha in all of your beauty. Your hair is pulled back into a braid which makes your eyes pop all pretty. A thin long sleeve and a pair of mum jeans hug your body nicely, yet you avoid to look into his eyes. Natasha and you both carry two suitcases each, but there are still some more bags on the plane.

The older woman gently nudges you forward with a smile to be encouraging. The cold New York air makes goosebumps rise on your arms and you shiver. This is it, you will finally meet your father. You swallow down your fear and move forward, eyes still trained on the floor. Natasha's footsteps are right behind yours which comforts you greatly. You've come to like her during the flight.

It's only when two pairs of shoes come into your vision that you stop dead in your tracks. The luggage that you've been carrying drop to the floor and you use all the courage you can muster to look up at your father, your heart beating loudly. Bruce looks as nervous as you feel, pale face and sweaty hands, but he puts on a brave face and forces a crooked grin to appear.

“Hey, shona”, he mouths your pet name. The look in his eyes is so hopeful it makes your heart churn. All the fear and anger you've carried with you is suddenly forgotten as tears collect in your eyes. The only thing you feel is the longing for your father's love that you've been deprived of for all these years. “Daddy?”,you whisper. As the words leave your mouth you start to run forwards, right towards Bruce.

He opens his arms right in time for you to fall into them, your face buried in his chest. Sobs leave your mouth as your tears stain his graphic tee, “I missed you so much”, you whimper and fist his jacket to pull him closer. He wraps his strong arms around you and carefully places his head onto yours, “I missed you too, shona, so much”. His voice breaks and a few tears begin to fall, some out of relief, some out of guilt.

The sound of your sobs and sniffles fill the silence. It's like a heavy weight was lifted from your shoulders. You were so scared to arrive in New York and how different things were going to be, but being in your father's embrace is all you needed. All this time you've been so occupied with being angry that you never realised how much you wanted any kind of fatherly love.

When you pull back to look into Bruce's eyes you stare into his red rimmed eyes, some single tears resting on his cheeks, “Y/n, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have returned home, but I had to sign these agreements and they wouldn't let me. I never forgot about you, shona. I love you so, so much”. His voice is shaky and rough and he reaches out to cup your face, his fingers wipe away your tears.

“It's okay”, you find yourself saying, “You're with me now, that's all that matters”

You both smile at each other, happiness radiating from you, when your moment is rudely interrupted. “I told you everything would be alright, Banner, Just shows you should listen to me more often”, Tony declares with a smirk to which Natasha responds with a warning glare. “Oh come on, Nat. I'm just joking”, he shouts before turning to you and winking obnoxiously.

“Y/n”, your father begins, “this is Tony, my, uh, best friend. This is his tower in which you'll be living with me. We have our own level”. Your eyes widen, “We have our own floor? That's insane!”

Tony laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder, “Of course, only the best for my science buddy and his daughter. If you have any questions, you may ask F.R.I.D.A.Y, she is an artificial intelligence built into the tower. She'll be available whenever”, he states, his eyes sparkling, “Isn't that right, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” The AI answers immediately,”Anytime, boss”.

Bruce smiles at you. His heart feels light and happy and he looks over to Natasha who gives him a thumbs up and a wink. “Dad?”, you ask him, shivering a little, “Can we go inside? I'm freezing”. “Of course”, Bruce nods eagerly, “let me just help with some of your bags”. Happily, he skips to the Quinjet to grab some of your luggage and hauls them over his shoulder. “Let's go, then”.

You walk behind your father, Natasha and Tony close by, as you take in the inside of the Avengers Tower. You can't believe your eyes: The sheer size of everything is overwhelming to you, but you're very excited. Meeting your father was scary, but now that the anxiety has fallen off of you, you're all blissed out and floaty.

The lift is very smooth, but the glass floor makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. Bruce notices your nervous shifting and slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him. Grateful for the warmth, you turn to him with a smile and mouth a thank you. In just a few seconds you've reached the right floor. Once all your bags are moved into your apartment, your father turns to his friends with a smile, “I think we've got it from here. Thank you, guys”

They nod at him and leave to give you two some privacy. “Do you want to see your room? We can unpack your things”, he asks, a nervous waver in his voice, “if you're okay with me helping, of course”. You take one of his hands in your own and grin, “I want you to be there with me. I spent so much time wishing you were home. I'm not letting you go any time soon”.

Hearing these words, he can't help but tear up, “I'm so happy you're here, shona. I wish your mother could have been with us too”. You release a shaky sigh and try to hold back tears of your own, “Me too, dad. Me too”. The feeling of being pulled into a hug by your father pulls you out of our head and you realise you started crying again. “I just miss her so much”, you sob into his chest.

A sniffles sounds from above you and you raise your head to see Bruce crying, “I'm sorry”, he whispers and wipes away some of his tears. “It's okay. At least I have you back now, daddy”. Gently, he cups your head and presses a kiss to your hair, “We've got this, shona. We're not alone anymore”, he tells you meaningfully, trying to convey that he meant what he said.

“Shona, I love you”

You breathe in and place his hand on your erratically beating heart.

“I love you too, daddy. So much”.

.

.

.

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[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 2

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Everyone turned to see Midoriya standing on the stairs to the beach, looking down at them.  None of them, least of all Shouto, had ever seen that expression on his face before. That… flatness that almost rivaled his own.  

Uraraka took a step forward.  “Deku?” she asked, uncertainly.  Suzuki, the commission instructor, threw his arm in front of her, blocking her path.  

“Whatever that is,” he said, voice strained and low-pitched, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku.  Saito’s quirk doesn’t allow for the subject to have an avatar in the dreamscape without a lot of practice.  There’s another quirk at work here.”

“You need to leave,” said Midoriya, descending a single step.  “Now.”

“It could be a result of his own quirk,” said Aizawa, who nonetheless had a hand on his capture weapon.  “He’s had odd reactions to mental quirks in the past.  Jumping to conclusions is illogical.”

“We have evidence Midoriya Izuku is working for the League of Villains,” said Suzuki, backing away from the stairs, slightly.  “By the rules laid out in the standard—”

Shouto tuned Suzuki out, by now quite convinced that the man had nothing particularly meaningful to say, in favor of examining Midoriya.  

It was Midoriya.  Just, a Midoriya that was annoyed, defensive, and maybe a little offended with just a touch of something else.  Which was a weird combination on Midoriya.  Especially as muted as it was. Midoriya’s expressions, no matter what they were, were always so big.  

“—I am recruiting you to aid this investigation and determine the League of Villain’s plans!”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll make you leave,” growled Midoriya.  

Wow, for someone who was the embodiment of sunshine, he could be really threatening.  Then again, sunburns were a thing, so maybe it wasn’t too surprising.  

“You’re here against my will, after coercing me into allowing a quirk to be used on me.  I want you out.”

“Eraserhead, I suggest you restrain this projection, whoever it belongs to.”

“I’m not going to warn you again,” continued Midoriya.

“I suggest,” said Aizawa, “that you listen to him.  We can ask Midoriya about this when we’re all awake and not in his head.  Like you should have done in the beginning.”

Midoriya tilted his head slightly to one side.  

“I agree!  This is very unethical,” said Iida, chopping at the air.  “This is basically an interrogation, and Midoriya is a minor! You need parental permission!”

“Which, before you start talking about him willingly participating in this course,” said Aizawa, “he has explicitly withdrawn. Not to mention his mother signed those opt-out forms, so her permission is withdrawn as well.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am,” said Aizawa.  “Take us out.  This whole thing is illogical.”

“I can’t,” said Suzuki.  “Saito is the only one who can shut down her quirk prematurely.”

“What?” said Uraraka.  “There’s no way for you to contact her in an emergency?  That’s really dangerous!”

“That’s not what Saito Yume said, either,” said Midoriya, flatly. “’The dream state persists until either I release it, the people involved break free, or eight hours pass.’ Implying that there’s another way to break free.  One that you, by necessity, must know.  So, leave. Or I’m going to start to defend myself.”

Suzuki took a deep breath.  “I am here,” he said, “to complete a mission given to me from the Hero Commission.  Your refusal to comply with the terms set out in your licensing agreements will be noted.”

Midoriya brought his head up straight again and squared his shoulders.  His hands clenched.  He was wearing gloves, Shouto noticed.  Not the gloves that went with his hero costume, but work gloves.  He’d seen the landscapers who worked at his family home wear something similar.  

Why?

“Fine,” said Izuku.  “Then I’m going to kick you out.”

“That’s impossible, you—”

“I know this beach very well.”

Abruptly, the pristine white sand was covered in towers of trash, separating Shouto from the others.  Suzuki’s insistence that Midoriya was a spy had already had him on edge.  This put him fully into battle-mode.  

He dropped into battle stance, and carefully froze one of the trash piles in front of him, making an icy stair to the top.  His first priority was to find Aizawa and his classmates and regroup.  To do that, he had to get a better vantage point.  

He jogged up the stairs, noting, absently, that he was now in his hero suit, not his school uniform.  What had he been wearing before this turned into a fight?  He hadn’t particularly noticed.  

He reached the top just in time to see Midoriya bludgeon Suzuki with a piece of rusty rebar.

Alright.  Maybe that wasn’t Midoriya.

.

Aizawa wasn’t fast enough getting around the piles of trash. He would have tried to scale them, but there was no safe place for him to grab on to.  The piles were simply too unstable, too untrustworthy, too poorly shaped.

He arrived just in time to see Midoriya, or what looked like Midoriya, impale Suzuki with a pole.  

Before his mind could fully process the problem child attempting what looked a whole lot like murder, he had him wrapped in his capture weapon.

Midoriya had the gall to look confused, if only slightly.

“Todoroki,” Aizawa barked, spotting his other student on top of one of the horribly dangerous trash mounds.  “First aid, stat.”

“Yes, sir,” said Todoroki, making an ice ramp to glide down.

“Midoriya,” he said.  “What was that?”  Perhaps it was illogical to ask, but he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes.  

“I was testing to see if he’d wake up and go away if he got knocked out,” said Midoriya.  He made a tiny, not-quite-shrugging motion.  “This is just a dream, after all.”

Alright.  That was true, but it was still incredibly disconcerting to see Midoriya act so callously towards the life of another human being.  Although he was unsure how many times Midoriya had hit Suzuki, and certain places of impact were less lethal than others, blunt force trauma, especially to the back of the head, could still be deadly.  

There was the sharp report of a gun, and Midoriya jerked forward, blood leaking from some invisible wound to drip down his face. Then he vanished.  

He turned towards that utter bastard Suzuki, eyes blazing, only to find him entirely encased in a glacier except for his head.

While Aizawa had been trying to train Todoroki out of reflexively encasing human beings in ice, due to frostbite, hypothermia, and other potential health issues, he was willing to let it slide.  Just this once.  

“I told you,” said Suzuki, teeth chattering.  “That isn’t your student.  And even if it was, he’s a traitor.”

“Sensei,” said Todoroki, “what are we going to do?”

“First,” said Aizawa.  He didn’t get beyond that, because Uraraka was abruptly launched from behind a wall of trash, trailing a makeshift tether of salvaged bungee cords.

“Found them!” exclaimed Uraraka.  “I don’t see Deku, though!”

“First,” said Aizawa, feeling exhausted despite technically being asleep, “we regroup.”

.

Toshinori was supposed to be teaching a third-year heroics course.

He wanted to be with Izuku at the Hero Commission training, even if he was retired, with only a retiree license to his name.  

He was in the nurse’s office, getting his brain checked by Recovery Girl, because sudden debilitating headaches weren’t on the long, long list of symptoms he’d come to expect from his injuries and medications.

Chiyo was worried he might be having a stroke, an aneurism, or some other sudden, lethal, brain condition.  She’d used her quirk on him at once, and the pain hadn’t stopped. She’d said that, at least, it should stop an aneurism from getting worse.  

Toshinori hoped it wasn’t brain cancer.  As far as personal abilities went, all he had going for him right now was brainpower and a stupidly high pain tolerance.

He closed his eyes against the bright lights of the room. Everything seemed too bright and blurry.  Sounds warped oddly in his ears.  The fabric of the bed underneath him felt gritty against his fingertips.  

It was like he wasn’t entirely here.  

Oh, the joys of hallucinations.

(Something like urgency pushed against the back of his mind. Whispered Eight, and help, and Nine.)

(Something was going more wrong than usual.)

He waited for Chiyo to step out of the room before he snuck out.

.

Izuku emerged from sleep with a choked gasp, heart racing, head spinning.  Where-?

It took him several fraught minutes to get his breathing under control and recognize where he was.  The room for the Hero Commission course.  His classmates and teacher were sleeping next to him, as well as the commission instructor.  What had his name been?  Something with an S?

Thinking was hard.  It was like his brain was occupied with something else and he kept having to nudge it back on track.  It was like—

He shook his head, which pounded with the movement, distracting him further.  He—He should—

What?

An odd sensation overtook him, and he found himself slowly, cautiously standing up.  It wasn’t like Shinsou’s quirk, where his body was out of his control, but more like he was almost sharing control, somehow.  Like he could, at any point, take control back.  And he did, just to test the theory, stopping for a moment, his hand halfway to his backpack.  

But that was hard, and he really wasn’t up for much in the way of decision-making, and the others were quite adamant that he had to get out now.  They’d know.  He trusted them.  

They picked up the backpack.  

Eight was coming.  They could trust Eight.  

The door slammed open.  Izuku froze.  Several heroes in costume and a man with a suit and a commission nametag stood in the doorway.  

“Get him!”

Four moved so differently from Izuku.  Precisely, like he knew exactly how his opponents were going to act, where they were going to be.  It reminded Izuku of how Sir Nighteye moved.  

In seconds, they were in the main hall, sprinting past crowds with the help of One for All.  Izuku felt bad about leaving Aizawa and his friends, but they knew, they weren’t targets. Izuku was.  

Izuku didn’t know how they knew that, how he knew that.  

Parking lot.  Streets. Alleyway.  Rooftops.  His UA uniform was too attention grabbing.  They dropped his blazer behind one of the rooftop ventilation shafts and tugged off his tie.  The button down by itself was less attention grabbing.  There was nothing they could to about his pants.  Alley again.  The people chasing him could track his phone.  They needed to get rid of it.  

Preferably in a way that wouldn’t immediately tip their pursuers off to the fact they had gotten rid of it.  Sending them the wrong way would be a good distraction, would buy them time.  

They slipped onto a bus and dropped Izuku’s phone into a woman’s purse.  Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the change in weight for a while.  

Six and Two were very good at this kind of thing.  Not to mention One.  

It would probably sound weird to an outsider, but it was comforting.  The experience and care of the past users wrapped around him like a thick blanket, making it so that Izuku didn’t mind so much about his distraction, even though he wished he could help more.  

He got off the bus.  They needed to find Eight.

.

“Just so you know,” said Aizawa, several registers shy of conversationally.  “If you’ve harmed my student in any way, I will do everything in my power to make your life a living hell.”

“Nothing here actually affects the mind of the subject,” said Suzuki, rolling his eyes.  “Otherwise, we wouldn’t use Saito’s quirk.”

“Your information hasn’t exactly been accurate so far,” said Tenya, pushing his glasses up and frowning.  Suzuki had, in fact, been fundamentally unhelpful.  “In fact, I believe you have outright lied to us on several occasions.”  He glanced at his classmates for support and did a double take.  

Standing behind Uraraka, half-hidden behind a beaten-up old refrigerator, was Midoriya.  A smaller, slimmer, younger Midoriya, who was wearing an ‘ALL M’ t-shirt, thick gloves, and… and an awfully large amount of rope?

He was also crying, silently, and staring at Suzuki.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said.  He pulled on the rope.  The refrigerator came free, destabilizing the pile of trash it had been supporting.

It all came tumbling down.  

.

Ochako managed to avoid most of the debris coming for her, and slapped most of the remainder, making them float with her quirk.  Even so, by the time the dust settled, she was covered in scrapes, the pink fabric of her hero suit torn—

Wait.  Hero suit?

Whatever, she was asleep, and the more important thing was to find Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa-sensei.  They had been in the direct line of the collapse.  She was pretty sure Deku had been able to get out of the way.

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

“Five-point touch activation.  Seems to affect buoyancy of objects.  Possible martial arts background based on movement.”

Ochako spun to face not one, but two small Dekus. The new one was, if possible, even smaller than the first and wearing a gakuran.  He had a notebook spread out across his left arm and was writing in it at lightning speed.  

“Hands are a possible weak spot, but a known one.  Be careful of kicks.”  Gakuran Deku’s words devolved into mumbling, but t-shirt Deku was still nodding, so he must understand.  

T-shirt Deku also had a length of pipe.  Ochako did not like where this was going.  

Then again, the whole point of this exercise was to learn how to defend one’s mind.  She couldn’t exactly fault Deku for doing just that.  She dropped into a fighting stance and grinned.  

.

It was nothing short of a miracle, Aizawa decided, that they hadn’t been killed yet. Then again, it was possible that Midoriya, despite his obviously altered and disturbed mental state, was still holding back against them.  

Which was annoying.  Because neither of the two small Midoriya-lookalikes was particularly strong.  Nor did they appear to be using Midoriya’s quirk, despite the fact that Aizawa, Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki had no trouble using theirs.  The problem was that they were terrifyingly intelligent, just shy of ruthless, and had an incredible home-field advantage in that they seemed to know the location and nature of every bit of trash on the beach and in that they could evidently make it disappear and reappear at will.  They also avoided head-on combat whenever possible, letting the terrain do their work for them.  

Fighting them was, in fact, like fighting someone with a quirk completely unlike Midoriya’s.  With a fighting style completely unlike Midoriya’s.

And that made Aizawa wonder, because all too often, he caught Midoriya trying to replicate All Might’s style, and if he did that when he could be doing something more like this—

But this wasn’t the time for such speculation.  

He pulled Todoroki away from a trap again (he evidently hadn’t yet grasped that Midoriya was attacking them), and then jumped away from a chain reaction caused by whatever Uraraka just threw.  

Unless they wanted to spend the next hour being beaten up by the problem child… “We need to get somewhere he has less control over the environment.”

“Off the beach?” suggested Uraraka, panting.  “He said—He said he knew the beach well, so…”

Aizawa nodded.  That was good thinking.  Where were the stairs?

“You need to leave!”  

“We’re trying, problem child!” snapped Aizawa, and, miraculously, that made Midoriya hesitate.  Aizawa pulled Todoroki towards the stairs.   The others were able to follow on their own.  

They made their way up, and as soon as they hit the top step the previously clear sky opened up and it began to pour.  Aizawa was soaked through in seconds.  

Wonderful.  

However, the attacks—which had been relentless up until this point—stopped.

“We left Suzuki,” observed Iida.  

Aizawa held back a groan.  

“Who cares?” asked Todoroki.  

“We do,” said Aizawa.  “We can’t let him run around unsupervised in Midoriya’s head.”

“I think he might have gotten crushed,” said Uraraka.  “He was still in your ice, wasn’t he, Todoroki?”

“Yeah,” said Todoroki.  “Trash should stay with trash,” he mumbled under his breath.  

“We have no idea how any of our quirks will function long-term in a dream,” said Aizawa, not addressing the trash comment because he honestly sort of agreed.  “Nor do we know what his quirk is.”  He sighed. “We may also have to consider that he is correct and Midoriya is compromised.”

Predictably, there was quite a bit of protest.  

“He may also have other information regarding the situation at hand,” said Aizawa.  “Which we need.”

There was a rattle among the trash heaps, and Aizawa turned to watch Suzuki drag himself out from under a mound of trash.  

“You left me!” accused Suzuki, loudly.  “You almost let that gremlin kill me a dozen times!”

“Well,” said Midoriya from behind them, where he absolutely hadn’t been a minute ago, “then maybe you should have left when I asked."

[icarus-suraki]

Since I seem to enjoy Starting Shit on the Internet today, I'm going to share some thoughts on the OnlyFans debacle.

First: sex work is real work. I said it, I believe it, that settles it.

It seems a lot of people (often young women, I've noticed?) are really celebrating OnlyFans banning all NSFW content. They’re having a great time saying things about how they hope all the (cis) men who liked NSFW OnlyFans content die mad about the NSFW ban and so on. It’s downright gleeful. And it seems like they're celebrating on the grounds of stopping trafficking and protecting minors and so on. And that's a noble thing, ending trafficking and protecting minors--do not misunderstand me: trafficking and abuse of minors is a real and serious issue and I absolutely support ending trafficking, rescuing victims, and protecting minors.

It is my opinion (insert Vine here) that OnlyFans banning NSFW content is going to hurt sex workers and also will do absolutely nothing to protect minors or stop trafficking.

A considerable number of people here in the US lost their jobs during the pandemic. And, among those people, are those who desperately need income. They're of age, they're legally allowed to do these things, and they need some way to survive. And, in the absence of a UBI or even a country that seems to care about the wellbeing of its own citizens, you have to find a way to survive. And a lot of the people who found themselves unemployed discovered that they could earn enough of an income through OnlyFans to actually survive. They could keep the lights on, get food, pay for medication, put gas in their car so they could drive to job interviews. It became a means of self-employment.

Are you thinking of the people on OnlyFans and elsewhere who are doing sex work as actual people? Or are they just a mass, just a concept, onto which you can project your ideals of Purity Culture? You’re giggling gleefully about unhappy men with blue balls, but I feel like you’re forgetting the women who are still stuck in a Capitalist situation.

"But they didn't start doing it willingly!" You can't prove that that's true for everyone on the site. You cannot prove that. You do not speak for everyone. Maybe some people turned to OnlyFans out of desperation, sure. But others may have felt relieved that they had it there. Others may have even felt liberated or enjoyed the work. I don't know. And you don't know either.

"But if you make sex work legal, that makes trafficking easier!" Yes, yes, I've seen the whole "Nordic System" argument. I've read it. My issue with it is that everyone is using it in the wrong way.

Remember when Oregon decriminalized possession of small amounts of most drugs? It was a decision made on the grounds of harm reduction. If you won’t get arrested for having some crack in your pocket, you can feel safer. Look at what the War on Drugs has accomplished: legal slavery and police brutality. It doesn’t work. And it’s an excellent experiment to try something else.

If sex work is declared protected or legal (and banks and credit cards cannot therefore refuse payment made to legal providers of the service), then any sex worker who is threatened, abused, harmed, attacked can make a report without fears of repercussions for doing sex work. Do you know how many sex workers are killed? If only there were some way to report a threat or a risk to the police without repercussions...

Beyond that: if someone is trafficked and they make a report about what's happening to them, it can be taken seriously because sex work is considered a legitimate area and trafficking would be very much outside the laws related to sex work. Same thing with minors in the same situation: it’s outside the laws, so it’s a crime, but someone reporting it would not be held as a criminal themselves. Collateral damage.

To go back to Oregon for a minute: if you decriminalize possession of small amounts of drugs, are you going to stop drug deals altogether? No. Oregon knows that too. But you can assist the people who do use drugs when they come forward with information about, say, murders connected to drug deals. And you can also provide a means for them to leave their situation if they so choose. 

Yes, ACAB, but we can at least provide a measure of protection to people who need assistance. See how this works? If a sex worker knows about minors being abused or trafficking going on and they make a report about it, they themselves don't have to worry about getting caught up and charged for also being engaged in sex work.

More protection for more people.

Lastly, and this might make you mad, you can thank the US Conservatives for a lot of this.

It’s the good ol’ Moral Majority come back from the dead. Again.

Any time someone yells about pedophiles or trafficking, it gets everyone concerned--and rightly so. But the problem is that it immediately becomes "if you're not overtly against it, then you must be tacitly for it, so agree to this bill." And so, anyone who's progressive or vaguely left-leaning signs off on legislations or statements about how sex work is bad and sinful.

But in doing this one thing, the US Conservatives and especially the Conservative Evangelicals of the US, can then convince more and more people to sign off on a longer and longer list of laws or beliefs that the Conservative Evangelicals want to push through. That’s their goal: to push through their ideas of a Good and Wholesome Christian Nation, with all the white supremacy and misogyny and homophobia and transphobia that entails.

So you start off with the existing laws regarding sex work, then you start sliding into "all of these kinds of sex work are illegal" and then "all sex work is illegal" and then "all pornography of all kinds is banned" and then you start slipping into lawmaking like ending access to birth control (because that encourages casual sex) and ending the rights of LGBTQ people (because "perversion"). You've seen it before, you could see it again. (And yet we can't seem to get child marriage completely banned in the US. Funny how that works.)

I don't mean to "slippery slope" this stuff but, trust me, it seems bad now but it can get so much worse. And I hope it doesn’t get worse.

“If you’re a feminist, how can you be in favor of sex work?” Because sex work is work. And, if you look back through history, you’ll find that banning sex work and punishing sex workers didn’t make things better, it drove everything down deeper and made everything worse. Less safety, less security, more risk, more punishment.

It seems like a shallow version of feminism if all you’re doing is sneering at cis men and turning up your nose at sex workers. I think you ought to reexamine your beliefs.

[honey-makki]

Irreconcilable

Characters: Asahi Azumane X GN!Reader

Summary: Asahi’s mental health can be debilitating sometimes. Taking a toll on himself and relationships with others, but how far will they go to help him?

Warnings: depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts

Song: this is me trying- taylor swift

 Genre: angst/comfort

Count: 2k

A/N: please head the warnings. this discusses and is an explicit portrayl of anxiety and depression with references to suicidal thoughts. it isn’t “fun” but nevertheless i think its good. at least it felt good to write,

Asahi hasn’t left his bed yet today, rather listening to the rain and staring up at the ceiling, wondering how long it’ll be before he can fall asleep again. This isn’t an uncommon situation for him, his figure shrouded in darkness and enveloped by the blankets on his bed.  The occasional buzz of his phone goes unnoticed. 

The darkness of the room shifts throughout the day, casting heavier shadows on his bed in the afternoon, shadows that he can feel the weight of on his chest. They mirror the heavy feeling in his heart and the discontent in his head. Would sorry have made any difference? It’s just a word, a word I would have struggled to even say.

The passage of time seems like its just a theoretical concept until the gnawing pain of hunger starts to peek through. He’s not hungry per se, but his body is telling him that three days without eating is way too long. The tinge of pain is a welcome feeling, no matter how fleeting.

It would still be a few hours before Asahi made his way to the kitchen, long after his flatmates are asleep, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. There isn’t a reason he can articulate for the way he looks, hair messy and unwashed, deep circles under his eyes despite sleeping most of the time, and his thinning frame drawing in his seemingly oversized old volleyball jacket.

He doesn’t even think he would try to come up with an excuse should they see him, the effort seeming monumental for little to no reward. He’s gotten to the point where he isn’t hiding it, any actions to make it easier to deal with, like using the kitchen sparingly and only at odd hours, are just due to convenience not fear of response. 

Holding a bowl of cheese puffs and a long-forgotten packet of Takenoko No Sato Asahi makes his way back to his room, each footstep silent. Sitting in his desk chair he pops something in his mouth, not really sure if it was sweet or savory because to him they all taste the same, something akin to cardboard, or wood chips uncomfortably dry in his mouth. 

The milk carton he grabbed out of the fridge doesn’t taste much better. It feels thick, so much so that he isn’t sure he will be able to swallow (or stomach) it. He might as well be drinking a bottle of unscented lotion, and even then that might be better. 

He isn’t sure how long has passed since he keeps zoning out, but the bowl of leftover puffs look about as appetizing as styrofoam peanuts, and he knows that if he doesn’t get them out fo his room, he might be sick. Being sick is a lot more effort than sneaking to the kitchen, that is as long as it’s late. 

He finally checks his phone after what has been, hours? A day? Maybe three days? It’s not the brightness of the screen that hurts, or the way all the notifications make his heart race, its the background picture that makes it nye impossible to use. Its you.

Seeing your smiling face next to his, he recognizes every single square millimeter of your face, long ago committed to memory. He could paint it blindfolded if he needed to, but the person next to you? He doesn’t see himself looking back. The clear skin, the glow, the beaming smile, the light in his eyes. Maybe its liveliness, maybe its adoration, maybe its gratitude, but regardless, he doesn’t retain nor deserves any of those emotions. 

It’s his fault he’s here alone in his room staring at a bug climbing the wall. step. step. step. Each leg of the ant moving in unison, carrying it to some future that it can imagine. How depressing is it that an ant has a brighter future than I do? Every second he spends looking at the ant is one less second he is being drawn deeper into the tumultuous whirlpool of dread in his head. 

The buzz of his phone clacks against the ceramic bowl, discordant in the otherwise silent room. The noise acts as a life preserver he feels oddly obligated to take out of the water, looking down to see your name across the screen.  For the second time today, he feels something, earlier it was clearly defined and compartmentalized hunger, now? It’s a ceaseless swirl of resigned hopelessness, despair, anxiety, irritation, and a deep sense of being unworthy of all of these feelings. 

Its easier when he isn’t reminded of you.

He doesn’t plan on responding to your simple ‘hey.’but the follow up of ‘dai said you aren’t well, let’s talk’ still everything but his mind. He can’t breathe in, he can’t move his thumbs to lock his phone or reply to you, all he can do is think about is how this could only go horribly wrong, but that you cared, at least cared enough about him to check-in. Even after everything he did.

Asahi: We can talk on the phone later I guess, y/n

Y/N: i’ll be over tonight at 7, i still have a key.

7pm. That’s 6 hours away according to his phone. The concept of time mattering feels foreign, should he nap? Take a shower? How long are normal showers? Should he clean his room? Does his room even need to be cleaned? Wash his sheets? Before long he finds himself on the floor, head in his hands with tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t recall getting there or starting to cry, it feels like the tears have always been there, each tear track carving out a trail in his skin, creating invisible canyons. They’re always there, maybe invisible or dry, but the tear tracks are still there. 

The faint thud of his pulse ringing in his head is one of the only things his dulled sense can take in. he can’t place if he’s developed a migraine and the thud is twangs of pain or if he’s just, not here. Living what can only be described as the inverse of an out of body experience, everything else around him fading out into black, leaving him alone in an infinite black universe.

The weight of something on his head brings him back to earth. His head leans up and out of his peripheral sees your knees as you sit on his bed. A small whine leaves his throat as you begin to scratch and massage his scalp. Asahi can’t remember the last time he was touched by another person, and he doesn’t know how he lived so long without it. Your fingers are massaging fatigue out of his bones, undoing tension he’s caring in his shoulders. 

It’s illogical that the light touches from each of your fingertips on his scalp can undo so much damage to his body, but that’s a skill you honed over time, and you can visibly see him become grounded. 

“Asahi you know I can’t keep doing this. I would do this every day for the rest of my life if asked because I know it helps, but I hate seeing you like this. I’m scared that one day I’m going--” your chocked sobs are finally audible enough for him to perceive, “that you are gonna be too far gone. I wouldn’t be able to take that Asahi. Life without you is hard enough, I don’t want to imagine a world without you.”

He knew his mental health issues affected you, its the whole reason he left you in the first place, feeling guilty for you having to take care of him and him not making any progress. But he didn’t realize how scared you were. That he might just wither away, or suddenly not be here anymore. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about it more than once, but never taking any tangible steps forward. 

He still hasn’t said anything, but after a few minutes of you both crying, he just nods his head. You aren’t exactly sure what that means, but his voice croaks out, “help. I’ll get help.” The admission wasn’t something you expected but the hoarseness of his voice from crying or nonuse makes it all the more real. That maybe you were right to worry, and you were right to set this ultimatum. 

A few hours later, you leave Asahi’s apartment, he fell asleep after you helped him bathe and changed his sheets. You left phone numbers of multiple psychologists and therapists, and an offer that you would make an appointment if he couldn’t find the willpower to do so. You have a cup of tea with Daichi before you leave, telling him about Asahi wanting to get help. You ask him to try to make sure that Asahi is doing at least the bare minimum or eating real food once a day and showering. Small steps eventually add up to a healthier person.

Months pass, where you and Asahi exchange a few text messages, detailing about he found a therapist, and his journey to find a medication that made him feel better and not worse. The conversations are long, but they always leave you hopeful about his progress.

You expected the knock on the door to be your take out but instead are looking at the chest of a much taller man. You look up to see Asahi’s face, a nervous smile looking down at you. His skin looks healthier, not as pallid or marred with deep sleeplessness, his hair is up in a bun, but you can see how much healthier it looks. The most notable change is that you can see light in his eyes. There’s something in there, hope maybe or just contentment with his growth. But there’s something, something that he made on his own and can hold onto.

Sure there are still signs that he isn’t fully back to the Asahi you met a long time ago, his hair is still thin, his frame is still not as filled out as it once was, but is definitely in a healthier range, his smile isn’t 100% confident and doesn’t seem to fully reach his eyes, but he looks good. And if he’s here, he must be feeling good.

“Hey y/n, I’ve been doing a lot better recently and my therapist said I should come and speak my mind. First, let me give you the most genuine and heartfelt thank you I can muster. If you hadn’t said what you did that one evening, I would never have gotten help and I honestly might not be here.”

His words are confident and sincere. They sound a little rehearsed, which is endearing. Asahi was never the most eloquent or poised person when it comes to feelings, but his declarations of love were always true in the deepest sense of the word. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face even if you wanted to, not when he’s done so much, not when he’s trying so hard. 

“I might perceive the world as darker and more hellish than it actually is sometimes, but I’m gonna try again and again to soothe my heart and pick the flowers growing in the midst of hell. You are one of those flowers, a light in the darkness that motivates and assures me that all is well. If you would like, I want to grab coffee with you, like old times.”

Your bodies are bathed in golden sunlight from the window behind you, giving your nod a lucent halo. The halo fades as you step out and close the door behind you, but the glow doesn’t, it’s part of him, part of you.

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi​ @haikyuuhotline​ @sugawara-sweetheart​ @nonexistent-social-life​ @laughingismorefun​ @iguessimastannow​

[believingispowerfulmagic]

“Reunited at Last” Chapter 11: A Turning Point

Upon returning to camp, John helped Robin dismount with the injured woman in his arms. He then tended to the horse as Robin carried her to his tent, calling for Tuck to come examine her. The friar rushed over with Marian not far behind him and the two entered the tent right behind Robin, who laid the woman down on his bed. He took a step back and sucked in some air as the lantern in his tent illuminated her face, revealing her identity.

It was the Queen.

"Robin, what the hell happened?" Tuck asked, looking confused and concerned at once.

"I don't know, we just found her unconscious on the ground and her horse in distress," Robin replied, still reeling from the revelation of who he had saved. "It was too dark to recognize who she was."

Marian moved toward him as Tuck approached the bed. She wrapped her arm around him. "Do you think she finally crossed the wrong person?" she asked.

"Possibly," he replied. "Though if this person was able to take down the Queen, I'm glad that I didn't run into them."

"I suppose so. But if they did take down the Queen, doesn't it mean they're a hero?" she mused.

Robin shook his head. "Not necessarily. They could just be a stronger villain."

She shuddered. "I don't think I want to know who would be worse than her."

"So, do we know who we saved and how she is doing?" Little John asked, coming into the tent. He stopped short, the color draining from his face. "Bloody hell…"

Tuck straightened up, looking somber. "Marian, I need your help in removing her dress. I need to see how bad the wound on her side is."

Marian pressed her lips together before nodding. She stepped forward to help Tuck while John moved to stand next to Robin. Both men turned around to give the Queen some privacy, staring at the back of the tent. Robin knew it was probably more than she would afford them but it was still the right thing to do.

Robin pressed his hand to his mouth, still processing the fact that the broken woman on the forest floor had been the queen. He had rescued the woman whose Black Guards chased him and his men throughout the forest, though not with the same persistence as the Sheriff of Nottingham. But they were still a threat. And he had no doubt that the queen would issue the same punishment for them as the sheriff.

Death.

"Alright," Tuck said. "You two can turn around again."

Robin and Little John turned to face the bed again. Marian held the queen's dress and the royal was covered by a fur blanket. The candlelight revealed beads of sweat rolling down the Queen's pale face and Robin knew that wasn't a good sign. "How bad is she?" he asked.

"She's in a pretty bad way," Tuck replied. "Her left arm and right leg are broken and she has a nasty bump to the back of her head in addition to cuts there. But I'm mostly worried about the wound on her side. She appears to have been pierced by a sword and I worry infection may already be setting in."

"What do you recommend?" Robin asked.

"We need to set her broken bones immediately," Tuck said. "And there's a poultice I can make that should help fight the infection but the next few days will be critical for her."

Robin processed everything Tuck had said as John asked: "And if we do nothing?"

Tuck narrowed his eyes. "She might recover on her own but it's far more likely she would die."

"We don't necessarily have to go out of our way for her then," John suggested. "Just leave her and see what happens."

"You want to essentially condemn her to death?" Tuck asked, sounding appalled. When put that way, Robin felt appalled as well.

John, though, shrugged. "She may recover. She may not. I'm just saying we don't help her toward either direction. She certainly wouldn't go out of her way for us."

Tuck frowned. "Either way, she will suffer. Her body will get too hot and it will start destroying her internal organs as well as affect her brain. She will become delusional and just be in agony until either her body fights off the infection or she dies."

"It's no less than she deserves," John replied. "She would likely kill us all without hesitation. Why shouldn't we return the favor?"

"Because that would make us no better than her," Tuck argued, his face turning red and fire burning in his eyes.

Robin had to admit both had valid points. The queen would surely hang them all instead of showing them mercy. But that didn't mean they should abandon the honor code he had crafted. They were not evil.

"Robin?" Marian asked, resting her hand on his arm. "What are you thinking?"

He sighed, looking at the Queen yet again. He had only ever caught glimpses of her, usually emerging from her imposing black carriage. She always wore elaborate outfits, preferring black and if she had any color, they were dark ones as well, and had her long black hair done in complex styles. Everything about her was meant to intimidate her subjects and intimidate them she did.

Now, though, she looked very different.

The Queen was smaller than he realized. When he laid in his bed, his feet came to the very edge of it but there was still a good foot or so between her feet and the edge. Robin's experience with other nobles or royals was that their figures tended to be fuller and softer than those who were considered peasants. The Queen, though, was relatively fit and did not appear to gorge herself on the rich, fatty foods often horded by those of her station. He thought of the horse he had found by her side, now eating and resting with the ones the Merry Men owned, and wondered if she was a dedicated equestrienne.

In the quick glimpses of the Queen's foreboding figure, Robin's mind supplied many words to describe her but beautiful had never been one. He didn't think she was ugly by any means but it was hard to gage something like that when one was only watching her for brief moments from the tops of trees. Standing so close to her now, though, Robin was able to admit that she was a very beautiful woman. Free from its elaborate updo, her dark hair fell in soft curls around her head and shoulders, pooling on the pillow placed under her head. It made how pale her skin was due to the fever stand out even more, making her appear even smaller under the blankets. She wasn't some imposing ruler ready to rain destruction down on them, she was just a person who was dangerously ill and injured.

And in that moment, his choice was clear.

"She will stay," he said, "and receive all the medical attention we can give her."

"Robin!" John exclaimed, his cheeks now turning red.

Tuck frowned, glancing at the Queen. "Let's take this conversation outside, shall we?"

"Good. I think all the men should hear this," John said, glaring at Robin before he stormed out of the tent. Tuck followed him with a weary sigh.

Marian took Robin's arm and they left the tent together as John announced the news to the rest of the Merry Men. They glared at Robin as he stepped closer to them. Will crossed his arms as he asked: "The Queen, mate? Really?"

"Yes, really," Robin replied, glaring at John in return. "And if you let me explain…"

"There's nothing to explain, Robin," another man yelled. "She's the queen and deserves to be shown the same amount of mercy she would show us - none!"

Robin held up his hand. "LET ME SPEAK!"

Everyone went silent immediately, stunned as he never raised his voice before. Robin looked around at each member of his Merry Men. "I know she is the last person we would ever want to help. When you joined my band, this band, you agreed to a certain code - and that includes helping those who need it. Not those who could then help us in return or those we deem worthy. Just those who need it. And right now, she needs our help and so we will give it to her."

"Why don't we just let her die?" Much called out. "That would help so many people who actually need it more."

"No," Robin said, glaring at Much. "If anyone believes that it would be the right thing to let her die, you can leave. That isn't anyone I want to be part of the Merry Men."

Silence descended upon his men and he looked around, waiting to see if anyone moved. When no one did, he nodded. "Then she stays. And if anyone tries to hurt her in any way, they will have to answer to me," he told them.

They all bowed their heads and he was certain he had gotten through to them. He nodded. "This discussion is over. Everyone, get some rest."

Robin turned and entered his tent again. He sensed someone behind him and he sighed. "Yes?"

"You know I support you but are you certain about this?" Marian asked, sounding concerned. He turned around, facing his fiancée. She studied him, as if he were a puzzle she was trying to figure out. "She is the Evil Queen, Robin."

"I know. But look at her. She's hardly a threat right now," he replied, motioning to the prone woman lying on the furs and pillows that served as his bed.

Marian nodded. "That's true. But what about when she wakes up? And what if her guards come looking for her?"

"They haven't found us yet," he reminded her, boasting somewhat. "As for when she wakes up, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"I just hope this doesn't blow up in our faces," she told him, reaching out and taking his hand.

He laced their fingers together. "I know. But I think it's going to be okay in the end. I just need you to trust me, okay?"

She sighed, leaning closer to him. "I trust you, Robin."

"Good," he replied, kissing her. He then pulled back and sighed. "I should collect my things and spend my nights with John and Will until she's better. Unless there's another place I could stay…"

For now, they spent their nights in separate tents. But it was growing more and more difficult to part from her each night. All Robin wanted to do was lay down beside her and fall asleep with her in his arms. Then he would wake her with soft kisses in the morning. And in their own little world, only they would matter and they could talk about anything or nothing at all. Just as long as it was the two of them, he would be happy.

She shook her head. "I would love to have you stay in my tent but we promised my father. And I won't lie to him."

"Nor would I ask you to," he replied, disappointed but still wanting to respect her wishes. "Our word is our bond."

"Thank you, Robin," she said, kissing his cheek. "It won't be for much longer."

He nodded, knowing they had set their wedding for Yule. They would be able to return to Marian's village and spend some time there with her family. Everything would be perfect for their wedding, he was certain of it.

"Do you want me to stay with you while you gather your things?" she asked, glancing over at the queen.

Robin looked at her as well. The queen slept on, tossing fitfully in his bed. "I don't think she's much of a threat right now. So you go, get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded, giving him another quick kiss. "Good night, Robin. Sweet dreams."

"You too," he said, watching her leave his tent. Once she was gone, he sighed and he began to gather up the things he would need to bring with him.

Robin quickly packed a bag as Tuck entered the tent again. "How is she doing?" he asked.

"She's fitful but still out," Robin replied. "Is there anything you can do so she can get a more restful sleep?"

Tuck pressed a hand to the queen's forehead before nodding. "Bringing down her fever should help. I'll do that."

"Good," Robin said, slinging his sack over his shoulder. "I'll be with John and Will. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do. Have a good night, Robin," Tuck said, setting up his stool beside the bed to keep watch over the queen.

Robin started to walk toward the entrance to his tent. He paused, looking back at the queen. She shivered now despite the layers of furs on her and a pang hit Robin's heart, despite everything she had done. He wondered if everything about her was just a facade and about who really lay beneath the exquisite dresses, bold makeup and elaborate hairstyles.

Maybe they would find she wasn't evil after all.

Or maybe she was. After all, his men were right - she had caused devastation across the country. The people lived in fear of her and what she could do if she thought they were the ones hiding Snow White from her. He had helped rebuild far too many villages and provide aid to numerous glassy-eyed victims still trying to process the terror she inflicted on them. Everything pointed to her just being evil.

Yet he still couldn't bring himself to believe that anyone could just be pure evil. His gut told him there was more to the Queen, just like there was more to him and his men. And maybe he would get a chance to figure her out once she woke.

If she didn't kill them all, that was.

He sighed as he approached John and Will's tent. Worrying about the queen wasn't going to do him good now. Robin just had to wait until she woke up and then he would figure out what to do next. For now, he was going to get some rest and find their next mark.

Even with the Queen out of commission, there were always people who needed help and he would always do his best to give it to them.

Continue reading on FFN, AO3 or Wattpad

[re-diesirae]

Chapter 5

5. Leon

Leon walked in the darkness; his gun ready to shoot anything that could be a threat as he tried to find his way out of the tunnel. He had woken up a couple of hours ago and found himself trapped inside a tiny cell guarded by two men that, he guessed, were part of the terrorist group that had tried to kidnap Claire. The first thing he did after waking up was to look around the place, but to his dismay, there were no signs of the red-headed.

"Where did those bastards take her to?" he mumbled with irritation.

He was thinking of a way to break free when he caught the two men talking in whispers.

"What are we supposed to do with the guy?"

"That's what we are waiting to hear. The high-ups only ordered us to bring the Redfield chick. This guy just tagged along uninvited, but I bet they will find some use for him."

"Another lab rat," one of the men scoffed. "I pity him."

"He got it by himself. He shouldn't have interfered."

Leon heard the men laugh, but their laughter was interrupted by a soft slashing sound and a thud. After some seconds, the agent listened to the cell doors screech open, and a bright light pointed to his face. Leon raised his hand to block the blinding light and frowned at the familiar person standing in front of him.

"Ada?"

"So we meet again, Leon," the Asian spy said. Her lips curled into a playful smile, "here, from all places."

"What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be asking the same? From how I see it, I've got more reasons to be here than you do."

"I doubt it," Leon said, walking out from the cell and facing the woman, "These bastards took my friend."

"Ah, yes. The Redfield girl. I had heard that you were close."

"Do you know where they hold Claire?"

"No, why would I care about her? She isn't my mission."

Leon raised his eyebrow, and Ada smirked.

"I think she found her way out. She's probably running somewhere. If she's alive, of course," she added, "but from what I've heard, I wouldn't bet against her chances."

No, it would be a stupid idea to bet against Claire. She was a skilled woman that knew how to handle herself in a crisis. Leon frowned. He never knew what to expect from Ada, but somehow he could not bring himself to distrust her.

"You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here, Ada?"

"Work," she answered, "nothing you should know about, pretty boy. I was about to leave when I heard that you'd gotten yourself caught. It's been a while, so I thought I'd pay you a visit. Here..."

Ada threw him some things, and Leon caught them in the air. His handguns and holsters, and also his phone.

"I believe you will need those."

Leon put his things back into place and looked at the spy.

"Thanks. Care to enlighten me of where we are?"

"Sorry, handsome, but I can tell you how to get out, though," Ada said, "if you follow this tunnel, you should reach outside. Don't worry about the guards. There aren't many."

"Took care of them for me?"

"No, guards are useless in this place," Ada smirked, "until next time, Leon."

Before Leon could say anything, the Asian woman was already gone. He would never understand her, but the time and place were not the right ones to ponder about the subject. He had to find Claire, make sure she was safe, and figure out where they were and how to get out.

Just like Ada had said, he did not meet any other guards on the way outside. However, once he was out of the tunnel, things became less friendly. Leon crossed paths with a bunch of people infected with Plagas, or at least, that's what the man thought. They lurked in the darkness of the forest, waiting for any unguarded passerby to jump over him, but luckily, he had managed to kill them without problems.

After a few minutes of trying, he managed to contact Hunnigan. The signal was not clear, but hopefully, it was enough for her to locate his position and send help. In the meantime, his primary objective was finding the youngest Redfield.

Tracking down Claire would not be easy. She could be anywhere, but if he knew her well enough, the first thing the woman would do would be arming herself. The best place to do that would be a place where people lived, so finding a settlement would help him find her.

Leon searched for a town or anything similar as he navigated the forest, but so far, he had not found anything. Then suddenly, he heard a loud bang, and he saw the flames of an explosion raise from a short distance from his position.

Smirking to himself, he could only guess if that was Claire, but he did not lose anything by checking it out, and so he had found himself walking in that direction.

For what he could see, it was indeed a town, or at least what remained of it. The fire was starting to spread, and the whole place was like a giant torch. Suddenly a soft crack of leaves made his senses snap. He turned around quickly, raising his gun only to find a rifle pointing directly at his face.

"Leon?" a familiar voice whispered.

The blonde could not say how relieved he was to hear that voice again. He lowered his gun and watched Claire do the same with her rifle. Thanks to the light coming from the burning town, he was able to see the woman. Besides looking exhausted and quite beaten up with her thorn clothes and scratches, she looked alright.

"Claire, thank god. I found you," he said, relieved.

"Likewise," she answered.

Claire let out a relieved sigh, and he saw her lose her balance and stumble down. Leon made a quick spin and caught her before the woman could hit the ground.

"Hey, easy. What's wrong?"Leon asked with worry.

"Sorry about that," she replied, "I think I might have a mild concussion. I already had one when I woke up, but I think the explosion just made it worse. I'll be fine. We need to take cover, Leon. There were some nasty monsters back there, and honestly, I don't know if I blew them up, but I don't want to be around to find out."

Leon nodded. He trusted Claire's judgment, and if she thought the monsters were no good news, he believed her. Claire was in no condition for a fight, so the wisest decision was to avoid conflict for the time being. They needed a place to hide and rest a little.

"Can you walk?"

"I can manage, I think," she replied.

Claire pushed herself up with Leon's help, but her legs gave up almost immediately. The adrenaline rush she'd used earlier was fading away, and the rebound effect in combination with the concussion was hitting her hard. Leon was surprised that the woman was still awake.

"You don't look like you can..."

"Jelly legs had never been an issue before."

Leon sighed. He put his gun back in his holster and knelt in front of her, offering her his back.

"Hop on," Leon said.

"What?"

"You can't walk, and it will be much faster this way."

Claire wanted to argue, but despite her broken pride, she knew Leon was right. She could barely stand, and that would only be a nuisance in battle. Without complaints, the woman climbed on Leon's back.

Leon immediately noted how light she was. Was she even eating at all?

"You can take my gun, and you're in charge of hostile control. How's your aim?"

"As good as it can be, I suppose."

"You'll be in charge of snipping then."

"I can do that."

Claire let out a weak chuckle. He was glad that the woman was still good enough to have some sense of humor.

Finding refuge was going to be a challenging task, especially when they didn't know the area, but Leon was not going to give so easily. Claire needed a safe place to recover, and nothing would stop him from finding one. It took him several minutes and some perfectly executed headshots from Claire to find a small abandoned cottage that was barely visible amidst the vegetation. It wasn't the most luxurious refuge; in fact, it was pretty wretched, but it would serve its purpose as a suitable hiding spot.

He made sure it was clear of unfriendly visitors before letting Claire down. The woman thanked him and settled in a corner with her back against the wall and rubbing her temper.

"Let me look at that," he said, approaching her.

Leon wasn't a medic, and his knowledge of wounds and injuries didn't reach beyond the standard first-aid procedures, but he could at least try.

"Be my guest," she replied, letting the blonde look at her.

She had a large lump on the back of her head, and there were traces of dried blood behind her ears and neck. He didn't see any open wounds, but that only made him worry that damage had been more internal. Concussions could be tricky.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Honest answer? Like shit," Claire snorted weakly, making Leon smirk. It'd been long since he had dealt with Claire's singular sense of humor.

"I am serious," he insisted. "You had a severe blow on your head, and I want to be sure there is no internal damage."

"That's going to be tough without a tomography unless you have some fancy instrument in your pockets, Mr. Super agent."

Leon snorted.

"I assume it isn't too bad if you can still talk like that."

"I am fine," Claire sighed. "I am a little dizzy, my vision is blurry, and I feel like I might throw up at any time. I also feel drained, and I can assure you that a hot bath would be nice, but you know, I'm not complaining. I am still alive.

"Well, I suppose you sound ok; I'll check again later, though."

"Be my guest, Leon," she sighed, "I am a little confused right now. Would you mind telling me what happened? How's that you ended up here, too?"

"Well, I was supposed to rescue you," he snorted, "but things didn't go quite as planned. Chris is probably pissed at me now."

"Don't mind about Chris. He's pissed most of the time for no reason. He will live through it as long as we make it out alive."

"Yeah. Something is jamming my signal. I can't contact Hunnigan or any of the other services, so I have no idea where we are."

"Germany. Bavaria, most likely."

"Huh?" Leon asked, surprised, "How do you know that?"

Claire dug inside her pocket and pulled out a piece of cloth. She unfolded it to show him its contents, and Leon saw a small branch.

"Sorbus pseudothuringiaca," she said. "It's endemic to Bavaria. I found a lot of it in the forest while I was looking for the town."

Claire always found ways to impress him.

"I didn't know you had a nag for botany."

"It isn't my forte," Claire said, folding the cloth again and putting it away, "but I am still a biologist."

"So we are in Germany," Leon sighed, "shit. That was a long trip."

"Yeah," Claire nodded, "now we are trapped in a forest infested by murderous monsters. How fun, huh?"

"Don't worry. I am sure we can handle that."

"You don't say," Claire nodded, massaging her neck, "I probably hold the record for waking up in the worst possible places."

Leon did not reply. He had heard of Claire's misadventures with B.O.W.s, mostly from reports. They rarely touched the subject in their occasional calls. He knew the woman had gotten involved in a couple of cases lately, one in a soviet island and another one on an island in South America. The reports on both were vague, but he remembered reading Claire's name among the survivors.

"You're still as tough as you've always been, huh?"

"I don't know," Claire sighed, "Maybe I'm getting old for this."

"Hey, if you're getting old, what about Chris and me?" he chuckled.

"Ah, right. I didn't mean it like that, sorry. My concussion is making me say nonsense."

"Don't worry about it. You need to rest. Maybe you should sleep a little. I can stand guard."

"Yeah..." Claire agreed, closing her eyes. "Sleeping sounds nice. Wake me up for a switch."

Leon watched Claire drift into sleep after some brief seconds. Her head tilted aside, and he caught her before she slid to the ground. The man placed her head on his lap carefully and watched her. She had to be exhausted, and he could not blame her. He didn't know how long she'd been running around, fighting hostiles, and escaping while dealing with the side effects of a concussion. She was admirable, and she deserved the rest.

He watched Claire's sleeping face, and he suddenly remembered their time in Racoon City. Eighteen years had passed since the incident; back then, both had been rookies in zombie fighting, and now they were among the veterans. Leon had become one of the DSO best agents, and Claire had not only survived multiple altercations with crazy scientists, but she had become the leader of a movement working to counter terrorist advances.

Leon smiled to himself. Claire had changed since the last time they met. She was no longer the girl he met in Raccoon. She was more mature and serene now. Then again, she wasn't the only one who had changed. All of them had, and all of them had chosen their way to fight against bioterrorism. Claire, however, had chosen a path that was very different from the one Chris and himself had taken. She was a fighter, but from another kind.

"What the hell does Neo-Umbrella want with you, Claire?" he sighed, brushing a hair strand away from her face.

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! http://discord.gg/wr48UmENbx

[fallingappleshurt]

Okay sooo, first fic in the fandom

Am very nervous about posting this but yeah!! Place holder type of thing while I work on my AU!! I’ve gone over this thing at least 7 times if there are errors I am just going to cry

Also this is all Platonic and Fanily dynamics!! Get outta here with your romance!!!

TW: Needles, descriptions of violence and injury (not too graphic), swearing

Phantoms and Bandaids

The group slowly stumbled down the street, moonlight gently washing over them. There was a soft breeze that cut through the humid air.

They hadn’t intended to get in a fight, it just kind of happened, they had lost track of time and before they knew it, it was dark and monsters were coming out. If you think about it, it was also the guards fault, who was slacking and missed the multiple mobs wandering around? That couldn’t have been just their fault.

They approached the little blue house on the end of the street, a pink haired boy looked it up and down, searching for signs of life, he sighed in relief when he spotted none.

“Good, Phil isn’t back yet,” He said, shoulders noticeably relaxing. One of the others adjusted his gray beanie, nodding in agreement.

“And just so everyone is clear, we were here, all night. Got it?” Wilbur looked between his brothers. Techno nodded, pink hair slipping in front of his eyes, Tommy just kept staring at the house, zoned.

“Tommy?” Wilbur asked sharply, snapping his fingers in front of the younger's face, ignoring the pain in his knuckles.

Tommy jumped, blinking a few times, “Oh, uh, yeah, sure!”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow, “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Of course!”

“So what did I just say?”

Tommy’s face faltered for a moment, “Something about, sleeping?”

Wilbur sighed loudly, he heard Techno facepalm behind him.

“We have been here the whole night, right Tommy?”

“Yes! Absolutely! The whole night!”

Techno drug his hands down his face, “Can we go in already? Phil could get here any minute and I am too tired for a lecture.” He wrapped his hand around his shoulder, Wilbur couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw blood against the pink hoodie.

Deciding it was just an illusion from his tired brain, Wilbur nodded and reached into his pocket for the house key as they walked up to the door. He slowly turned the lock and pushed the door open, trying not to make any extra noise.

Together, they crept inside, locking the door again,trying not to fumble in the dark. They slipped off their shoes and stepped into the living room, eyes started to adjust to the darkness only for the lights to flick on all at once.

“And where have you three been?” Phil stood in the hallway that led to their rooms, arms crossed, looking annoyed.

Wilbur groaned loudly, slumping forwards while Techno glared at Tommy, “I thought you said he was working late!”

“I thought he was!” Tommy hissed back incredulously, “It’s not my fault!” Techno responded by slapping him upside the head.

“Hey!” Phil snapped, “Where were you three? It’s been four hours! It is passed curfew! You could have been arrested! Or worse!”

“We didn’t sneak out or anything, we were just hanging out in the woods and lost track of time and-”

“Tommy are you bleeding?” Phil interrupted Wilbur mid sentence but that wasn’t the biggest of his concerns at the moment.

“Wait what?” He whipped around to get a better look at Tommy who conveniently had his hand over his jaw.

“It’s-It’s nothing, just a little cut!” Tommy waved his hand dismissively, chuckling nervously.

Phil rolled his eyes and walked into their small kitchen, rummaging around for the first aid, upon finding it he pointed to a chair in the dining room.

“Sit.” His voice left no room for argument but that never stopped Tommy.

“Seriously Phil, It’s not that bad! It only stings a little, I’ll just sleep on it-Hey!” He yelped as Techno shoved him forwards.

“Stop trying to resist medical attention from the only person here who knows about it,”

Tommy grumbled something as he walked over and slumped in the chair, Phil sat next to him, already scrubbing the side of Tommy’s face with a wet washcloth.

Wilbur walked over to the sink to wash his hands, watching caked on blood seep down the drain, most of it wasn’t even his, most of it. His knuckles were the main issue, they were bruised and a few had split open and were bleeding sluggishly. He dried his hands and stepped towards the table where Phil and Tommy were.

Wilbur leaned on the counter, sighing, they had been so close. They should have come in through one of the bedroom windows.

His thoughts were interrupted by Tommy’s indignant squawking as Phil rubbed antibiotics on his cuts. He was putting a patch on the cut along Tommy’s jaw line when he pointed behind himself and snapped his fingers.

“Don’t even think about it, I’m checking all of you.” Wilbur looked back to see Techno step away from His and Tommy's bedroom door, looking weary, like he was trying to be annoyed but too tired at this point. The bags under his eyes were even more visible in the light, it made Wilbur’s stomach drop.

Techno had been the most prepared for the fight, even if the monsters had gotten the jump on them, he carried a dagger in a sheath on his leg. It wasn’t very big but it did more than Wilbur’s fists and Tommy’s pocket knife, Techno had also taken the brunt of the fight since most of Wilbur and Tommy’s ‘crime’ consisted more of thieving and petty threats, Techno was the fighting powerhouse of all the brothers, where he learned to do this was anybody’s guess.

“Okay, you should be good.” Phil said, leaning back in his chair as Tommy poked at the bandages. “Thanks Phil.”

Phil nodded then looked at Wilbur, “Wil, what’s going on with your hands?”

Wilbur shrugged, “It’s nothing much, just a few split knuckles,” he held out one hand for Phil to inspect, Phil turned his wrist over in his hand.

“It’s good you washed this, it’ll help prevent infection.” He pulled Wilbur over to where Tommy was sitting before, shifting through the kit he pulled out junior and extra long stripe bandaids and set them on the table before grabbing another cotton ball and covering it with antibiotics. He dabbed at the cuts on Wilbur’s hand,

“So, why were you all out so late?”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong!” Tommy interjected, “We were-” He was interrupted by Techno slapping his hand over his mouth.

“It is too late for you to be this loud, shut up.” Techno said calmly, other hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose then slowly lowering his hand from Tommy’s mouth, “Let Wilbur explain it.”

“Hang on,” Phil said, looking more frustrated, “Let me be grateful you are all still alive.” He closed his eyes and paused for a moment, then opened them.

“Okay continue.”

“He’s right,” Wilbur started only for Tommy to interject again.

“Ha! Told you Tec-”

“Tommy. Shut up.”

“We were just taking a walk in the woods and lost track of time. We might have got a little too close the wall, but to be fair some dumbass guard was not doing their job, and we got attacked by a bunch of monsters.” Wilbur explained.

Phil looked up from bandaging Wilbur’s hand and raised an eyebrow, “What kind of monsters?”

“Some zombies, a couple of skeletons, and like 5 phantoms, nothing too big. Only reason we got so scratched up is because we weren’t prepared.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Phil asked, taking Wilbur’s other hand, starting the process over again.

“Sort of, I mean,” Wilbur trailed off, not sure what point he was trying to make.

“We wouldn’t have gotten as hurt if we had been more prepared, we know how to take care of ourselves in those situations we were just caught off guard. It’s good and bad.” Techno stated calmly, “It just depends on if you look at the good, the bad, or both.” He shrugged weirdly, one shoulder moving more than the other, Wilbur couldn’t tell if it was just his imagination or not but a hushed hiss from Tommy told him something was off.

Phil was still focused bandaging parts of Wilbur’s hand, missing the quiet argument between Tommy and Techno, he could only hear bits and pieces.

“It’s not that bad-”

“That is huge! It needs to be treated, Techno! That could make you sick if it-“

“Keep your voice down! Phil doesn’t need to worry about this, it’s not that big of a deal, I’ve had worse.”

“When?!”

“What the fuck is that?” Wilbur jumped, it had been a long time since he had heard Phil curse, then he saw the reason.

There were three tears on Techno’s hoodie, exposing his shoulder that had three matching gashes all seeping blood, staining the pink sleeve.

Both Techno and Tommy looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch,” Techno tried to throw up his normal facade of ‘I am in more control of the situation than you have been or ever will be’ but it was slipping, his eyes were drooping, hands and voice shaking ever so slightly.

“Just a scratch?!” Phil snapped incredulously, “People have come into the nurses station for less than that! This needs to be treated right now!” Phil grabbed Techno’s wrist and pulled him to the chair, Wilbur switched places with him.

“Take off your hoodie and roll up your sleeve,” Phil instructed as he wrung out the wash cloth and pulled more cotton balls from the kit.

Techno groaned but did as he was told with slow, calculated, movements as to not jar his wound. He gingerly rolled up his T-shirt sleeve. Phil moved quickly, his usual calm and precise fingers shaking as he shoved his supplies around the table.

This was the first time Wilbur saw the scratches in the light, and it was horrible.

The cuts were narrow but long and deep, covering half of his shoulder, still trickling blood.The skin around the cuts was red and swolllen. Phil looked at the wound, grimacing, before he could speak Tommy shouted;

“Oh my God! It’s even worse! Techno you idiot! You’re yelling at me, at me, to get checked by Phil when you have this!” He gestured frantically at Techno’s arm.

“When- When did this even happen?” Wilbur asked, hand in his hair, “We were all watching each other’s backs!”

“Towards the beginning of the fight, right after the zombies got the jump on us,” Techno explained, wincing as Phil scrubbed at the cuts.

“How did I not notice this?” Wilbur asked, chest tightening.

“I’m stealthier than you, not as loud as Tommy, and it’s dark so it was hard to notice, don’t blame yourself.”

They sat in silence for what seemed like forever when Phil swore under his breath.

“Some of these are going to need stitches.”

Wilbur paused, he knew Techno hated needles, he never knew the reason, just that he hated needles.

That got Techno’s attention, he jerked his arm away, eyes widening slightly. “What? No, no way. It’s not that bad.” He started to stand up.

“Not that bad? Tech, those are gonna get infected!” Wilbur said, subconsciously moving to block him, making sure Techno couldn’t bolt like he would when they were younger.

“Wilbur is right, I need to treat those right now.” Phil rested his hand on Techno’s wrist. Techno shook his head, “No.”

“Techno you stubborn son of a bitch! Just get the stitches!” Tommy said, throwing his hands out.

“Shut up Tommy!”

“Oh do you wanna go, pink man? Cause-”

“Both of you calm down!” Wilbur snapped, putting a hand on Tommy’s chest, pushing him back. “This isn’t helping anybody! Both of you sit down! Tech, I know you don’t like needles but this needs to be done, it’ll only hurt for a minute then you’ll be-”

“Don’t patronize me,” Techno huffed, sitting back down, letting Phil inspect his arm.

Wilbur just shook his head in response, glad he didn’t have to make up more shit on the fly.

“Good news is, only one of them needs stitches, bad news, it’s the biggest scratch,”

Techno groaned, putting his head in his free hand, “Of course, let's just get this over.”

Wilbur watched as Phil sterilized and threaded the needle, shifting in his seat to get a better look at Techno’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any meds to numb your arm, bud.”

“Please don’t talk about it, just do the stabbing or whatever.” He responded, still not looking up. Phil rolled his eyes fondly.

Wilbur could only watch them for so long, Techno still had his hand over half of his face, only showing his mouth. Which was pinched in a tight line, his other hand was balled in a fist, knuckles white, shaking faintly.

He had to turn away when Phil got higher up on the cut where the skin was more tender, causing Techno to gasp and bite his lip. He was shaking.

Wilbur turned and went to sit over on the couch next to Tommy, who was watching some stupid show on their rinky-dink TV.

“Though you were gonna go to sleep,” Wilbur commented, flopping down next to him, he blinked sluggishly and shrugged.

“Just waiting to make sure Techno is okay, besides he’d have to come into our room at some point. He’d probably wake me up with his big feet tripping over everything, so it’s just easier to wait for him.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, he knew the main reason was he wanted to make sure Techno was okay, it was the same reason Wilbur himself was still awake.

About ten minutes into the crappy TV program Wilbur got up to use the bathroom. He took a moment to breathe and think about what the hell even happened, maybe more than a minute. He splashed some water on his face before heading back to the living room. When he got there he saw Techno had taken his place next to Tommy, who was resting his head on Techno’s shoulder and Techno rested his head on Tommy’s. Wilbur could see bandages peeking through the rips in Tech’s sleeves.

Phil sat next to Techno, an arm wrapped around him, his hand reached over,brushing the back of Tommy’s neck. Phil didn’t seem as angry now, just at peace, like someone had taken the fight out of him.Wilbur rolled his eyes and sat next to Phil, who automatically put an arm around him, he leaned on him and closed his eyes, mumbling;

“Thanks Phil, I promise we’ll be more careful next time,”

Phil chuckled lightly, “There won’t be a next time a long while. You are all grounded.”

Wilbur grumbled, shifting slightly, “Are you serious? We weren’t trying to be late or worry you-”

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning, go to sleep.”

He sighed, pulling his beanie over his eyes, slowly drifting off in the embrace of his brothers.

(There it is! I am very nervous about posting it but whatever! And this ISNT part of my AU, at least I don’t plan on it being. If there are any spelling or grammar errors that’s on me, I’m a fool and most likely dyslexic)

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “The Press.”

I have been wanting to do this for a while. Commander Vir deals with fame, and the good and bad parts of it. I hope you like, sorry I am so late today :) 

“Why exactly am I back on earth? My tour doesn’t end for another six months, and we were just getting ready for our first exploratory mission since before the burg war.”

“Look, commander, I understand this isn’t what you thought you were signing up for, but since the movie dropped recruitment has Gone up 45% and another 20% after merchandising, we need to get on this quick,”

He sighed 

“Besides, you will only be touring one or two weeks. That’s one or two weeks paid vacation while you talk to celebrities, pose for pictures, and maybe do a press conference or two. Bring along a couple of friends to keep you company and it won’t be that bad.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, but I’m not a dancing monkey. I didn’t sign up for this, and it’s not going to becoming a thin.”

“Yes commander, now The UNSC is taking you first. You are their poster child after all, and they want your face on the recruiting posters .”

“Very well, ma’am.”

***

Wednesday, June 3

“This is good work commander, but we are going to bring in an expert to make it just right.”

Commander Vir stood in an empty hanger bay surrounded by reflective panels, directional lights and a multitude of camera equipment. Sunny and Krill were playing a guessing game he had taught them earlier in the day to keep them occupied, and Waffles -- his dog -- was curled up by one of the set technicians taking a nap.

“An expert?”

“Yes, we’re bringing in one of the guys who used to be a guard in Arlington. The uniform looks good, but is it perfect?”

The answer to that question was answered simply few minutes later

He was a slob, a big fat slob who didn’t know how to properly wear his socks. The guy even whipped out a tape measure to determine the exact distance that a pin should be placed from the crease in his collar.

Commander Vir didn’t see the difference on the small scale, but in aggregate, he found that the difference was actually quite startling. He blinked, “Wow.”

“Excellent, now, we’re going to have you stand over here while we adjust the lights, and then when we give you the cue we want you to follow the order to a T. We will have parade rest attention, present at attention and then contemplatively looking off into the distance. We will have someone with a marker to tell you where to look.”

“Stare contemplatively off into the distance. I don’t remember learning that one.”

“Ahh we got a smartass.” 

He stepped into place doing as the cameraman ordered, trying to look serious and imposing as directed, though Sunny and Krill had decided to make faces in the background. He actually did loose it at some point as Sunny started doing some weird improvised dancing in the background while krill stood there like it offended his sensibilities.

Eventually they got what he wanted, and they showed him some of the prototypes.

There were a few that he liked but only because they looked like vintage  movie posters from some badass naval war movie.

Thursday, June 4 

The three of them walked into the studio watching as bodies flowed past them hurrying off in all directions. Obviously their presence caused quite a stir, and Adam thought he recognized a few faces peering from the crowd, other movies stars and celebrities, but he couldn't be sure what he was seeing. And then there were the women, and men who hurried about, tall, statuesque like greek gods given life, with jaws so sharp they could cut paper, and pouty lips under wide dark eyes. 

Looking at them and then at himself, well, he felt like a dump truck next to a sports car.

Sunny on the other hand didn’t seem impressed, “I could snap them in half…. Like twigs.”

“Fighting isn’t the point Sunny, they’re just supposed to be hot.”

Krill eyed them, “Their single job is to profess the perfect mating standard?”

“Ur yeah, I guess.”

Krill snorted, Sunny shook her head ,’ What is the point of being hot if you’re also useless besides you don’t look all that different.”

He rolled his eyes. Leave it to an alien not to be able to tell what super hot humans looked like.

“I’m serious,” Sunny insisted, “You’re as tall as most of them, and more muscular than some of them, and you have a cool eye patch, so that means you win.”

He couldn’t help but smile shaking his head, “Alright, Alright, I’ll shut up.”

At that moment a woman appeared from nowhere and held out a hand, “Commander! So glad you could come, so glad.” She looked him up and down with a frown.”

“That bad huh?”

“Nothing a little wardrobe and makeup can’t fix.” She announced clapping her hands together and motioning others over as he frowned.

He frowned.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing “

“Do I tell you how to do your job commander, no, now over to wardrobe .”

He blinked in surprise, “Ok, yes ma’am.”

He found himself sidling over to where racks and racks of clothing was hanging suddenly surrounded by the tall, statuesque people with their big eyes and pouty lips. While they were busy looking hot, he got nervous and nearly knocked over an entire rack of clothing, blushed till he was beat red, and then decided after this was all over he was going to bury himself under a rock and die.

He was mostly ignored for like twenty minutes until someone walked over, “Commander,” He was a portly little man with hair dyed frost white though his roots were growing in black. The man grabbed him by the hand and dragged him across the room, “Alright, alright, what do we have.”

He looked him over prodding t his shoulders and arms, making him turn in a circle, “Not bad, not bad at all. I can work with this. Tell me commander formal, or casual.”

“Uh casual?”

“Exactly what I was thinking! The provincial small town man feel. I like it.”

“Well I mean ok…” the little man grabbed him aggressively by the arm and pulled him around to a rack of clothing. In the end he had a pair of jeans black boots a black T-shirt and a brown leather jacket.

He frowned, “I hate to point this out, but this is literally what I am wearing.”

“No it isn’t. Yours is frumpy and sloppy and ours will make you look acceptably rugged.”

He frowned not sure if he was supposed to be offended or not, “And where am I supposed to change.”

“Right here.”

“Right here!’

“Commander, these are models, they show their bodies off for a living, none of them need a changing room, so take a leaf out of their book and stop worrying.”

This was worse than a high school locker room. Humans had never reached light speed, but he was pretty sure he at least broke the sound barrier while pulling on the new pants.

When he walked back over pulling on his jacket sunny and Krill had made themselves comfortable in a couple of the stage crew chairs, “What are you so nervous about, you looked fine.” Sonny said looking down at her implants to change music.

“You were watching me>”

“Was I not supposed to do that.” 

He felt himself turn a nice shade of cherry red, “No!.”

She shrugged, “Whatever.” 

Krill just shook his head, “You forget that neither of us wear clothes, so we do not understand your issues.”

He sighed, “Nudists.” He muttered walking towards the set, though he was immediately diverted by another person who led him over to a set of chairs and mirrors. He was pushed down into a seat and spun around and an aggressive group of stylists moved in on him. This is honestly not what he had expected when he joined the army.

He was even less impressed when they started to stick brushes in his face causing him to blink and his eyes to itch. Someone wetted down his hair and put product in it that smelled like strawberries, which, honestly he wasn’t entirely annoyed about.

From there he was finally let go and walked onto another photo set, though this one had way more lightning, way more cameras and way more props.

And of course like the awesome badass commander that he was, he stood there like a complete idiot as stiff as a board, caught like a deer in the headlights. The photographer seemed more than a little annoyed at his inability to look like anything other than sasquatch caught on a hunting camera.

“Relax.”

“This is kind of out of my element.”

“Being capture by aliens and going on space walks where you might suffocate, and you cant relax enough to take a picture.”

“To be fair, no one sees me when I am doing badass stuff, so I don’t have the social pressure of preforming well.”

They tried some more.

They told him he was smiling awkwardly, or like he was being threatened at gunpoint.

It wasn’t until Sunny started doing stupid dances behind the camera-man, again that the photographer finally started to like what he was seeing. Every time he turned to look at what Vir was smiling at, Sunny would stop dancing trying to look all innocent.

That just made him laugh.

At some point one of the people had a great idea to involve waffles, and -- like the good girl that she was -- she promptly stole the spotlight, which he was totally cool with.

Photoshoots were definitely not his thing.

He was about 100 percent sure when the photos came out they would look like his last middle school yearbook picture.

Even thinking about it made him grimace.

Friday, June 5

“And please help me to welcome our next special guest, Commander Adam Vir of the UNSC.”

His legs felt like jelly, and it took sunny nudging him to finally get him moving onto the stage. He wondered if people could tell just how bad his legs were shaking.

And there was a twitching going on in his right cheek that he just couldn't stop.

He wanted to go back to the hotel and watch dumb TV With Sunny while krill complained about the medical inaccuracies.

But here he was listening to clapping and cheering from an assembled studio crowd. He was sure he was going to do something massively stupid, like trip off the stage, or rip his pants or forget his own name, or something.

The host stood up, he was blanking on their name right now though he knew they were ridiculously famous.

He shook hands with them.

“So glad you could come commander.”

“A pleasure to be here.” He responded robotically hoping that his smile was at least somewhat convincing.”

He took a seat on the couch, resting a hand against his shaking right leg.

He was going to puke.

“So, i Heard you have been on tour  for the past two days, how are you enjoying the celebrity circuit.”

He rubbed his hands against his legs, “Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Lets hear the real one.”

“Er, well it turns out I am really bad at…. Pretty much everything that’s not captaining a ship. Yesterday I did a photoshooot where I am ninety percent sure I looked like an awkward cryptid most of the time. People are going to be looking at those photos and wondering in what swamp they found me.” 

There was laughter from the crowd.

He wasn’t entirely sure if that was funny or not.

“I am sure they aren’t as bad as all that.”

He shook his head, “Pretty sure my face was like this…” He raised his hands making a wide-eyed shocked expression that had the crowd laughing again.”

The host smiled, “Commander, Forgive me for asking, but how old are you.”

He smiled sheepishly, “Um, lets just say too young and leave it at that.”

“I was sort of under the impression that commanders and admirals were….”

“Old wrinkly dudes?”

“Yeah.” 

He rubbed the back of his head, “That’s mostly true, the reason I got this position has to do with my experience with extra terrestrials.”

“I’ve heard rumors that you have aliens on board your ship. Is that true.”

“Those shouldn’t be rumors, that is entirely true. We have a twenty….three person Drev clan, a Vrul medical officer, a starborn, and some miscellaneous others.”

A muttering from the crowd, “But you were part of the Drev war, and Operation Steel eye. How did an entire Drev clan end up on your ship?”

He shrugged, “The story is complicated, but the long and short of it is, I made friends with some Drev after the war, and they adopted me into the clan.”

“Can we…. See, the prosthetic I mean” He held up his hands, “Not to be disrespectful.”

He shrugged, “sure.” Reaching down and tugging up his pant leg so the bright blue carapace glittered in the bright studio lights.

The man leaned closer, “Wow…. What…. What is that?”

“Drev carapace.” He dropped the pant leg.

“Why?”

“That is actually the reason I am adopted. A drev has to give you a gift that contains a piece of their own armor, so my best friend made this for me some time ago.” 

They talked about that for a little while. They talked about the war, they talked about his first moment on an alien planet.

“I was actually on the original mission to land on  Proxima b. I was the shuttle pilot behind Captain Kelly, though I don’t know how many people knew that.

There was a murmuring around the room.

“I know it was broadcasted live, but luckily the cameras were pointed away because when I was getting out of the shuttle, my foot slipped on the stairs.” The crowd gasped and giggled, “And I face planted right onto the surface.” 

More laughing.

“That is my legacy, the first man to take a nose dive on an alien planet.”

“I would say that your legacy contains a lot of strange instances. There are reports that you recently escaped from kidnapping by a prodigum by… Singing? How did that work?”

He rubbed the back of his head, “Well that is… that is.” he laughed nervously, “Yes that is a thing that happened. I and my friend Sunny were captured by a criminal overlord for entertainment in his little criminal syndicate. They had cages lined all along the ceiling and inside them were other humans. Turns out the Prodigum react to human singing like a drug, so I was asked to sing, luckily for me one of the woman in the other cage was a voice coach, so a few days of starving and being miserable, she taught me how to sing properly, or a little more properly, and then I sang a super sad song, distracted everyone long enough for y friend to escape and call for help.”

Gasping and more laughter around the room.

“Wow…. Your life….”

“Reads like a strange cartoon doesn’t it.”

From the crowd, “Sing for us!.”

The call was taken up a few more times.

He shook his head, “No no no, no I am not going to sing on international television. I have embarrassed myself enough this week.” 

“You now commander, you wouldn’t want to disappoint the public.”

He could feel the heat rising into his face as the rest of the crowd took up the chant.

He tried to protest, but that didn’t seem to be working.

Eventually he held up his hands “Ok, ok, but if my voice cracks…. Just don’t laugh.”

“And you were without accompaniment.”

He sighed, “Yeah it was a Capella. They didn’t exactly give me a soundtrack.” he stood taking a few deep breaths and humming to himself. His legs were shaking even worse than before.

He rubbed his hands nervously together.

The studio went very quiet.

He felt sweat trickling down his back between his shoulder blades.

He took a deep breath and….

His voice came out loud and clear, though it quivered slightly. He tried to shore it up as he continued, taking deeper breaths trying to get more control. He tried to find that place where he had been back in the cage. The sort of hopeless anguish he had tried to convey. His voice did quake a few times, but he was ok with that.

At least he didn’t do something super stupid like fall off the stage.

He cut it off hallway because his legs were shaking so bad, he thought that any worse might cause him to fall over.

The crowd began to clap as he collapsed back into his seat taking a deep breath.

“Wow, that is pretty impressive for someone who says they don’t sing. Bet the person who wrote that didn’t think it would be used to escape alien kidnappers.”

“Whatever it was, it worked. But” he lifted his hand, “I’m shaking so bad right now.”

The man shook his head, “That form someone who doesn’t shake when he flies jets at thousands of miles per hour.”

He smiled, “The jet isn’t going to judge me if my voice cracks. I think you will find aliens and airplanes are a lot less scary than humans. Don’t get me wrong humans are great , you guys just scare me half to death.” 

Saturday, June 6

A flight demonstration over the beach, which was pretty good 

Sunday, June 7

Dinner with a few important famous people

Monday, June 8 

Dinner with some politicians.

Tuesday, June 9 

He visited some UNSC bases up and down  the western coastline talking to servicemen and visiting some other people

Wednesday June, 10

The magazines came out, and they actually managed to make him look pretty good to his surprise,  though he was pretty sure the picture had been taking while Sunny was doing something with her hips that Drev hips had not been designed for, which eventually made him laugh so hard he had choked.

Thursday, June 11

This was his last day, and he had one more press conference to attend, than he could go home. He was wearing his formal uniform, captain’s cap, cords, gloves and everything else. There were at least ten microphones on the lectern in front of him, and a crowd of reporters below. Lights blinded his eyes.

Behind his back, the UNSC flag outlined him in bright blue. 

He was getting ready for more questions about the Burg war or wearing the steel eye armor.

He nodded to one of the reporters in the front.

“Commander, do you want to explain to us why, on UNSC time you were  reported as supporting an LFIL protest when you were supposed to be acting as neutral crowd control.”

He felt the blood drain right out of his face.

He was not ready for this.

Inside his brain went blank. He stammered for a second, suddenly feeling like a little kid giving a class presentation while all eyes stared at him. More cameras flashed, “I…. I was doing what I thought…. Needed to be done to keep the protest civil.”

“That was not your job!”

More yelling until the crowd was shushed, “Look, the GA wasn’t seeing any of their representative. I simply explained their side of the story to the GA, and they decided to lift the ban on their own.”

“Directly going against the policies of the UNSC was a gross breach of your contract commander, and we are all having a hard time understanding why you have not been disciplined for it.” 

“You have no idea what is on y contract. My job is to foster peace throughout the galaxy, and THAT is what I did.”

“Some people see it as a direct attack on our way of life. You are helping spread disease poor moral values throughout the galaxy.”

He felt his face burning, “What makes you think their relationships have anything to do with you NONE of them live on earth or on Mars. They do not interact with you, they do not bother you, they do not THINK about you. And no they are not spreading disease because every person who leaves earth receives a full disease panel. You are more likely to have communicable diseases than they are.” 

Uproar.

He shouldn't have said that.

“You are spreading extrial propaganda, and now that you are the face of the UNSC you are having an impact on our children, so t is your duty to uphold the values of the Human public.”

His hands were gripping white onto the lectern, “It is my job to uphold MY values and if the UNSC doesn’t like what I am doing they will fire me, so that is none of your concern.”

“Commander Vir, are you an extrail.”

The room went very silent suddenly. His heart was hammering in his chest.

“You are out of line. My personal life whatever it may entail has no bearing on my work, so you will either ask me professional questions or we are done here.”

“But you haven't denied it!” Someone else shouted.

“That question doesn't deserve an answer either way. If i tell you, that means I am justifying myself to you, which I have no desire to do, and if I were to confirm the other way, I would be bringing a personal issue into a political light, which would also be inappropriate. Either way I will not answer you. Unless there are any more questions that involve my work and not my personal life…”

He wouldn’t budge forcing them to change the subject.

His hands were shaking again, but this time it was out of anger. He had to breathe very slowly to keep himself calm enough.

***

Headlines 

Commander Vir Extrail or Normal 

SCANDAL: UNSC’s Golden boy involved with aliens?

Press conference turns to barbed comments.

LFIL Propaganda