#lots of death around me too which never helps. might be homeless. i keep getting super sick. etc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arty-shadow-morningstar · 4 years ago

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Con Man's Daughter

Posting this because there isn't enough biodad! John Constantine content.

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

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I feel like this should be a Damianette story or just platonic relationship after Jon got aged-up to seventeen and Damian wanted a friend his age but doesn’t want to admit it.

So basically there is this big bad in Gotham using magic that Batman was fighting at the time and enlisted John Constantine to help out.

John realizes that the villain is using a Miraculous.

“Oh. I think I know how he gets his powers. And lucky for you, Bats, I know an expert on this special brand of magic.”

And he did the smart thing and called up Marinette who at the time was already Guardian and was looking for other lost Miraculouses like in the Treasure Hunter AU I wrote.

He calls her at a really bad time. She was in the process of being chased by the guardians of the place. Monsters and evil spirits.

“Hello, Dad. What do you need and can you do it quickly?”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. How is my little cupcake up to these days?”

“You called at a bad time.” Gunshots.

“WAS THAT A GUN I HEARD? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOUNG LADY?!”

“Somewhere in Japan. Getting a Miraculous. And why can’t you call me to check in on me and not ask me to help you with whatever mess you got yourself into.” More gunshots sounds and it was telling that Marinette was using a gun.

“Where did you get a gun? And don’t you have school?”

“It’s summer break. Don’t worry Maman and Papa know. Well, the fact that I am in Japan anyways.” Marinette sounded a little out of breath. Roaring and horrifying sounds at the other end. “Can we do this later?”

“As it happens, there is a villain going around Gotham with what I think is a Miraculous.”

Swears on the other end.

“Oi. Watch your fucking language, young lady.”

“How about a No and move the fuck back, old man. I am coming over right now.”

“Old man? I am not that old-” as a magic blue portal opens up in the Bat Cave.

And a red Chinese dragon comes out with someone riding it.

Its rider was a black-haired girl. She had a trench coat similar to Constantine's. I imagine her with a fedora. Like Carmen Sandiego style but not red. Sometimes red but only when she has to steal it from a museum or high security places and she leaves a name card with the name Carmen Sandiego. A sword strapped to her back and a dagger to her thigh.

She had a gun in her hand which she used to shoot the monsters as it was halfway through the portal and yelled out the spell to close it.

“Brilliant entrance but you are in lots of trouble, little lady. What were you thinking about going to another country unsupervised? And isn’t there still a butterfly problem in Paris?”

“One, I wasn’t unsupervised. I had Tikki, a billion years old being and a sort of god. Two.Well, it got boring trying to track Hawk-bitch down. And I found this legend about a guy with a Miraculous who disappeared in the temple and thought hey, more miraculous could mean another edge to defeating Moth-man.”

More bickering and John grounding Marinette who was acting very nonchalant about it.

Okay, at this point, I should say that Batman and Robin are in the background trying to make some sense.

Batman is surprised to find out that Constantine has a daughter who is also involved in magic like her Father but an apparently more specialised kind called the Miraculous. He is a little miffed that he didn’t know about John having a daughter. He did consider it weird at first that she had a slight french accent unlike her father’s Liverpool accent although she pronounced some words like he does.

He also connected some dots that she is also the Parisian heroine, Lady Rouge who Wonder Woman introduced to the League a while back and had declined to join the Young Justice or Teen Titans until everything in Paris was resolved.

Damian on the other hand was suspicious of the new arrival and came to the same conclusion as his father about the daughter thing.

Batman after a few minutes, clears his throat.

The Constantines stop arguing.

“Bonjour. Batman. Robin. Pleasure to meet you. I am Mari Constantine and yes, I am this homeless looking man’s brilliant daughter.” “Hey”

“Well, Mari. Your father thinks you can help us with this new criminal turning Gotham upside down. Literally in some cases. He said that you might be able to help us.” Batman said as he pulled up zoomed in picture of the Miraculous.

Mari looks through the Miraculous grimoire and tells them all about it and power-ups, basically the most effective thing to defeat the guy is to get the Miraculous off them. Plus a spell that would make the Miraculous ineffective if casted within a certain radius of it.

“Thank you for the information, Mari. Constantine, let’s go.”

Mari made to follow them.

“You young lady are grounded and staying here.”

“I don’t need another supervillain using the Miraculous which are my responsibility as Guardian to retrieve them for their own misuse and wreaking havoc on the city. And what if there is an akuma in Paris? I can’t go there if I am grounded in the Batcave although it is a cool place to hang out.”

“You can portal back to Paris but you are not going to follow me. Understood?”

“yes. crystal”

“Good. After me and Batsy get the Miraculous, you can do your Guardian duties.”

Damian snickers. Until Batman cut his mood short, “You are staying behind too. Robin.”

“But Father, why? I am much more capable than Constantine.”

“Hey!” Both father and daughter.

Damian is staying behind too because of the Miraculous power or other reasons and keeps an eye on Mari.

Damian stays behind and there were some protests about mari mad about having a babysitter and Damian doesn’t want to be a babysitter. Despite the two of them being around the same age.

“I got an eye on you so no funny business.”

“Okay, Dad, I am not going to have sex with Robin.” Mari said with a shit- eating grin. Robin definitely didn’t blush.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I love you too, Dad. Go save the world. Byee.”

John eyes her suspiciously because she is not one to give up that easily usually.

He casts a spell to watch her as they leave. and which she totally knew about.

“So...I have one question.”

“Tt, ask and don’t bother me anymore.”

“Is Batman Bruce Wayne?”

Damian looks up, totally caught off guard.

“I am going to take that as a yes.”

Puts sword at her neck. “How did you find out?!”

“Opened up Google Maps and saw that we are under Wayne Manor. Connected the dots. Also I already knew when Dad made a bet with me once to find out Batman’s secret identity but he never did confirm it for me. And can you please not tell your father about this? I don’t feel like being interrogated by the Bat in the future yet.”

“Father must know about this.”

“I saw you looking at Scarlet here. An animal lover then? You can give her some belly rubs. She deserves it after helping me outrun those monsters.”

His silence was brought. To pet a dragon.

One thing after another and he ends up bringing out his pets-Jerry the turkey, Goliath the dragon-bat, Titus- and her introducing him to her other pets like a hellhound, griffin and other mythical creatures who mostly roam free but come to her when she calls for them and also the kwamis, at least the ones who came with her.

After 30 mins have passed, “So Robin how do you feel about disobeying our fathers?”

“I am in.”

“Depends. Are we going after the (villain's name) ?”

“Yes.”

Awesome montage of them getting rid of the spell John casted and flying out of the Batcave on their respective giant flying pets to the villain’s base.

Meanwhile, their fathers are not doing so well and are trapped in a death trap. John can’t say the spell because the villain made him unable to talk.

“At least, the kids are staying put.”

Cut to Damian and Mari jumping off their pets and onto the roof. Taking out the guards posted there and going into the building all sneakily and also taking out the guards that come their way.

They dropped into the room where their fathers and the villain is.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Villain starts an evil monologue about his mastermind plan to which Damian cuts it short by trying to cut him down with his katana. Mari goes to deactivate the death trap.

They are evenly matched with Damian’s training and the Miraculous.

Mari steps in as Damian was about to be killed. Taps on the shoulder of the villain and when he turns around, gives an awesome right hook that knocks him out.

Takes away the Miraculous and curses him. Wiped the dude’s memories of it.

“When I said stay in the Batcave, I meant stay behind at the Batcave. What point of being grounded, don’t you understand?”

“You mean, Oh, Mari, light of my life, my wonderful daughter, thank you for saving my ass. You are the best.’ by that, right?”

-----

Mari and Damian exchanged numbers and email addresses.

As she was about to leave the Batcave, “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne.” and leaves with a wink.

John ‘ungrounds’ her for the look on Batman’s face.

-----

After this, Marinette and Damian become friends who bitch and vent to each other about their alter egos and various villains of their respective cities. (In codes, just in case) They also share updates about their pets and love of drawings.

They have that type of friendship where they trade favors. Mari calls Damian to Paris sometimes to help out with the akuma of the day and Damian sometimes calls her in when Bruce doesn’t let him go investigate a case so he can sneak out by magical means or as back up for when his brothers were too annoying to deal with.

It’s summer break so no missing school.

John and Bruce are aware of their friendship and some of the shenanigans the pair gets into behind their back.

-----

Right. how this all started...

John and Sabine first met when the latter was still in college somewhere in France. John was tracking down a demonic entity which was targeting Sabine for some reason and she was the next target.

John saved her life and exorcised the demon. There was a heat of the moment thing and they had a one-night stand. There were a few more flings and hook-ups after that night.

And nine months later, Marinette Cheryl Cheng-Constantine was born.

When Sabine first found out, she called John to come over and he thought that it was a call for another hook-up and was very surprised to find out that it was not and that he was going to be a father.

They both like each other but do not want to be in a relationship together so they both remained as friends and John agreed after some strong-arming at the very least to meet his daughter before he goes to do his job. And pay for child support. And help Sabine during her pregnancy.

Pregnant Sabine was someone you don’t want to mess with. And John has never met a demon or anyone scarier than her.

He was at first not into meeting his child and there was a self-pity party he threw himself with how the child was going to live a bad life because he was the dad and how he destroyed every good thing in his life.

That’s why he is going to meet the baby once and leave maybe a letter and the occasional birthday present and stay out of their life. Forever.

The day Marinette was born and it took one look into her eyes for the HellBlazer to fall under the spell and all of his plans to stay out of her life to burn away.

At first, he tried. He really tried but he couldn’t do it.

Lasted 4 months before he came back, wanting to place protection spells on her and sigils around the house to keep away the forces of Heaven and Hell and other entities so they won’t use her against him as a bargaining chip.

Sabine calls him to babysit. He could have refused and Sabine would have easily found a babysitter. He moans and whines about how he is a great mage and not a bloody babysitter. Sabine retorts that it is actually called parenting since he is Marinette’s father. He grumbles but in the end, agrees.

The great John Constantine is wrapped around the little girl’s finger.

He was around for some of Marinette’s firsts. Her first word was “John”.

It made him cry. He wasn’t a good man and he doesn’t deserve someone this precious. His daughter doesn’t deserve someone like him as a father but fate made it that way and what can you do about it.

After an exhausting week of doing the usual and coming back from Hell, he saw that Sabine had sent him a video. It was Marinette taking her first steps.

Chas swears that in all the years that he has known John Constantine he has never seen the man look so happy.

------

When Tom came into the picture, John was there to take care of a toddler Marinette while Tom and Sabine went on dates.

Insert John threatening a much bigger Tom while holding a baby Marinette with wide eyes and hugging a teddy bear with the same coat as John’s. (It was something Sabine brought on a whim and to tease John when he came around.)

Tom is supportive and treats Marinette like his own flesh and blood.

John resolved to leave for good now that Tom would be there to be a father figure for Marinette.

That plan fell into the drain the moment he was going to leave for what was supposed to be the last time before Sabine pulled him back and knocked some sense into him.

His face was a big giveaway. Sabine knows that despite his claims of being a terrible father for Marinette, he was a good one and damnit she was going to make sure that Marinette would get to know her actual father.

Tom later made an awkward talk with John about how he was not going to replace John’s role as Marinette’s father.

Marinette was the flower girl at Tom and Sabine’s wedding. John was there too.

During bedtime, John would read her stories and use his magic to make it come to life. Although he would feel a little drained afterwards, it was worth it to see her smile.

Sometimes he told stories about his tamer adventures. (After cutting out some of the inappropriate bits)

------

When Marinette was about 5 or 6, Sabine was out on an errand and Tom was at home with Mari and helping her with her homework. There was a crash downstairs at the bakery. Tom went down to check it out to find John lying on the ground.

With a weak cough, he said, “Close the door. Close it.” Before losing consciousness

Tom did before a man with pitch black eyes slammed against it.

Thankfully John had installed heavy wards around the bakery when it first opened.

They held against the demon on John’s tail. Tom brought John inside and unsure of what to do, grabbed a rolling pin on the counter.

The man outside started pounding on the glass door and every time his hands touched the door, light glowed outwards, showing the invisible magic barrier around the bakery. Sparks and steams fizzled with every pound.

Despite the reddening and burns of his hands, the not-human didn’t slow down.

“ʝօɦռ....ʏօʊ ӄռօա ȶɦǟȶ ɨȶ'ֆ օռʟʏ ǟ ʍǟȶȶɛʀ օʄ ȶɨʍɛ ɮɛʄօʀɛ ɨ ɮʀɛǟӄ ȶɦʀօʊɢɦ ȶɦɛֆɛ աǟʀɖֆ. օռƈɛ ɨ ɢɛȶ ʏօʊ,” He laughs, the sound sends chills down the large man’s spine, “ȶɦɛʀɛ ǟʀɛ ֆօ ʍǟռʏ ȶɦɨռɢֆ ɨ ɦǟʋɛ քʟǟռռɛɖ ʄօʀ ʏօʊ.”

Tom knew that Marinette’s father was a con man. Come on, Master and Practitioner of the Dark Arts and Occult. But he was a good father nonetheless despite all his flaws and Sabine liked him enough so that was good enough for him.

Before today, magic was just the sleight of hands and use of fancy tools to sell the illusions. Now, with a could-be-a-demon knocking on his door to get to the father of the girl he sees as his daughter, he’s not so sure.

“Tom? Qu'est-ce qui se passe? (What’s going on?)” A little voice came from the stairs, “Dad!” Marinette padded across the floor to the body of her passed out father.

She shook him awake and there were a few soft slaps to the face.

“Dad, what’s happened?”

John mumbles, “Demon…. possessing some rich guy….. Exorcism…. Doesn’t like me very much…Don’t worry...wards going to hold.”

John manages to stand before falling down and Tom catches him before he hits the floor. He has a concussion. Tom turns to Marinette, “Go, Hide and don’t come out until It’s safe.” which she did

Unfortunately, a while later, Sabine returns from her night out and the demon upon seeing Sabine. “ɛӼƈɛʟʟɛռȶ..”

The demon possessed Sabine and the previously possessed dude hit the sidewalk with a thud.

“ɨռȶɛʀɛֆȶɨռɢ....” The voice coming out of Sabine didn’t sound like her mother which scared Marinette a lot. “օքɛռ ȶɦɨֆ ɖօօʀ օʀ,”the demon pulled a knife out of thin air, ,“ȶɦɨֆ ɮօɖʏ ɢɛȶֆ ɨȶ.”

Tom hesitated until the demon put the knife on Sabine’s neck and put enough force for a thin line of blood to be shown.

He opens the door and the demon knocks him out. Stepping over his unconscious body and looking down on it, “ʄօʀ ȶɦǟȶ, ɨ ǟʍ ɢօɨռɢ ȶօ ʟɛȶ ʏօʊ ʟɨʋɛ ʊռȶɨʟ ɨ ǟʍ ɖօռɛ աɨȶɦ ʝօɦռ, օʄ ƈօʊʀֆɛ.” and cackles. The sound was so wrong and unnerving and little Marinette tried very hard for her sobs not to be heard.

Too bad the demon had super hearing. “Come out, my little blossom. Maman is home. Why don’t you come out and give me a hug?”

It sounded so much like her mother and she nearly believed that it was her mother and not some entity in control of her body.

But she knew better from John’s stories of dealing with demons and how they would use the voice of loved ones to lure them out and into a trap. (Definitely not something one should tell as a bedtime story but Marinette was very different and had an unconventional childhood with John Constantine as her father.)

Wait...she got struck with an idea but she wasn’t sure if it would work.

Before she could do anything, the door of the cabinet she was hiding in was opened and she was dragged out.

The demon lifted her a few feet above the ground by the collar of her dress.

It heard Marinette saying something. “աɦǟȶ ǟʀɛ ʏօʊ ֆǟʏɨռɢ ƈɦɨʟɖ, ֆքɛǟӄ ʟօʊɖɛʀ?”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Marinette was now screaming the words at the top of her lungs. She repeated the spell over and over again with fierce determination.

John, being his paranoid self, taught her the spell for an exorcism, just in case. Demons spared no one, not even a girl.

It screamed “NO….” as Sabine’s body contorted in strange angles before a dark shadow seemed to be dragged down into the ground. It made a desperate attempt to possess John before it was pulled away and disappeared. There was no sign that there was a demon attack.

After John woke up, he managed to piece together that his 5-years-old (Sorry 5 and a half) daughter sent a demon back to hell.

He was a very proud dad. (He was a tad worried about the consequences from this event and demons hold one hell of a grudge. He wanted his daughter to live a very safe and happy life. The bakery’s wards also need an upgrade.)

He also got the job of explaining what he actually did to Tom. And lots of reassuring.

Sabine, on one hand, was not happy that Marinette knew how to do magic. That is until John told her that he did it just in case so she can protect herself and later it was agreed that Marinette can learn some Magic spells and charms to better protect herself and when she is older, she can decide if she wants to continue or not.

----

(Part 2)

#bio!dad john constantine #maribat #damientte #damainette #platonic daminette #maybe?#minor swearing

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huihuiheart · 4 years ago

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Unchained - Wolf! Bang Chan

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Stray Kids Masterlist

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid! Chan x Female Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, smut

Summary: You knew your boyfriend was likely up to no good, but you assumed it was just a slight drug problem or something of the sort. At least, until he takes you with him, something you agree to only to know what kind of man you’re dating. Only to find out it’s much worse than you think, he’s been helping kidnap hybrids for illegal underground fights. Something you can’t stomach, but you also can’t just do nothing...which is exactly what the authorities would do. So you decide to break the hybrids out before you leave, only in the process you may end up stuck with a hybrid of your own.

Warnings: Hybrid Fights, Violence, aggression, domestic abuse? (an ex gets a little rough/aggressive), blood, slight gore, underground fighting, mentions of kidnapping, drugs, alcohol, betting, mentions of death, cops/detectives, gun fights, bullet wounds, unprotected sex, cursing, biting, marking (kind of, briefly mentioned), clothes ripping, Chan is impatient, and somewhat feral, bondage, oral (f! receiving), overstimulation, spanking, choking (slight).

Word Count: 14,754

Note: The story starts with you and your soon to be ex, it takes a little bit for Chan to show up...once he does though, oh boy....

Taglist: @lovesfaith @blessgguk

Taeho had been your boyfriend for a long time, years in fact. That’s how you knew as soon as something was up with him. At first, you had assumed it was just something temporary, a lapse in self-control brought on by the stress of his daily life. Which is why you’d kept quiet and to yourself, to begin with, as long as you weren’t having to clean up behind the problem and he wasn’t bringing it home you assumed everything would be okay, and that it wouldn’t be long for him to return to his normal self again.

Only, this all started six months ago and it seemed that if anything whatever it was only got worse. He disappeared more often or showed up at odd times of the night without warning. He never brought any signs of what he was doing home to you, leaving you to wonder if he was cleaning up at his own apartment before surfacing again or if he got into something you hadn’t quite considered before.

Whatever it was, you weren’t sure that you could continue to live in mystery. It was killing you inside not knowing if he’d even show up again or if he’d be dead. Or what if you got a call from the authorities saying he had gotten into trouble while drunk or high. You needed to know what was happening to know if he needed professional help or if you could at least talk some sense into him, for your own sake just as much as his. So you sent the text, asking him to come over to talk while you collect your thoughts.

Taeho comes in and smiles at you as he sets his keys down and gets settled in your familiar apartment, “Hey babe, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to find your earlier confidence again now, “I wanted to talk about how you’re sneaking around all the time now. It worries me.”

Taeho pouts a little, before chuckling and coming over to squish your cheeks some, “Are you worried I’m cheating on you baby? I could never. You don’t have to worry about that one bit.”

“I wasn’t worried about that being what it was.” You frown slightly at how dismissive he seems to be about the whole thing, “My thing is just that if you’re having to sneak around then whatever it is you probably shouldn’t be doing. I’m worried that whatever it is will cause bigger problems and maybe you won’t come home one day or something. So what is it? Drugs? Alcohol? You can tell me...”

Taeho sighs, pulling away slightly to run a hand through his hair, “You’re right, it’s not exactly legal. It’s not like that though baby, it’s not an addiction. It’s no big deal either, it’s just a way I can make more money for our future. So don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing, okay?”

“If it wasn’t a big deal you’d trust me with the details, instead of hiding everything from me and leaving me to have a heart attack when you show up at four in the morning.” You counter firmly, not having any of his excuses.

“How about this? I’ll think about it, and when I leave today I’ll leave your key. That way I can’t get in and scare you in the middle of the night? I have to give you advance warning then?” Taeho bargains and you can’t find it in yourself to argue, nodding softly, and letting things seemingly return to normal for the evening.

It had been about a week after your conversation with Taeho that you got the text. The one where he finally conceded to your wishes. Though now as you read and reread over the arrangement your gut twisted, not sure if this was such a great idea. What exactly had you gotten yourself into?

Still, you were insistent on figuring out if your boyfriend needed help or not, and there was no way you could do that at home without any of the details. So you got ready, throwing on something simple, just jeans and a hoodie in hopes of being able to be somewhat hidden wherever you ended up. Though you weren’t sure if that would be possible, maybe just being with Taeho would draw attention to you. Either way, it was too late to go back now as Taeho let you know he was at your building.

Getting into the passenger seat you could swear Taeho could hear your pounding heart. He paused looking at you for a moment as if debating himself if he was actually going to do this, before sighing softly and starting the car up again.

“You don’t have to come, you know. Once you know about this, there’s no going back. You can’t claim you were never involved anymore, if someone finds out you know stuff you could get into serious trouble. Otherwise, you have to stay quiet about it okay?” Taeho looks you firmly in the eyes as if warning you of what was to come. You simply nod though, staying quiet and unmoved waiting for him to drive off.

After about fifteen or so minutes he pulls into an empty lot near a metro station, turning the car off and getting out. Gesturing for you to follow his lead as he heads down into the station, one you weren’t familiar with as this wasn’t considered the best part of town.

“Stay close, or there might be some trouble,” Taeho whispers, offering you his hand to take as you go down and into the station, standing on the platform.

You quickly notice that there’s no station security here, only one or two homeless and no one else. Taeho waits for the next train to pass, before jumping down onto the tracks and holding his arms out to help you down as well. You’re hesitant, more so now than before with your location, but follow him.

Taeho notices and tries to ease you some, “Don’t worry, the cameras here are down and the next train doesn’t come for a half-hour. We'll be fine.”

His insistence leads you to follow him down the track in the direction that the train came from until you find a little maintenance platform hidden in the side of the tunnel. He helps you up before following, into the little abandoned inlet, opening the door and leading down the stairs to a basement section. Leading you through a few turns until you came to a door with a man standing outside, no doubt guarding it against any unwanted visitors.

“Hey Jeup, she’s with me.” Taeho nods to the man who looks over you for a moment, before getting the door for you both and stepping aside to let you in.

Slipping down one last set of stairs you’re in a dimly lit large room, the center area spotlighted as crowds form around it. Money and drinks being thrown around. You spot more than one questionable substance in the area. Three men walking over to you and your boyfriend.

“Hey Taeho, I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” The man leading them chuckles and claps your boyfriend on the back, “And you brought a guest.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss this match, it’s big and it’s my fighter. Of course, I’d be here.” Taeho chuckles and you feel your stomach churning as you start to put some of the pieces together. “Yeah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Jian, and this is Ungjae and Changbin. They’re two of my best. Though your boyfriend certainly brings in a pretty penny too, he’s found me some of the best fighters. Gotta keep the crowds entertained after all.” The man laughs a little, the other men smirking.

You feel slightly relieved knowing that it won’t be your boyfriend who is fighting, but still, you have an unsettling feeling about this. You knew that underground fights of any sort were bad news, your lack of details about these only worrying you further. Did they even have any care about rules here?

“She’s kinda shy and new to all this.” Taeho jokes with the men, slipping his arm around your middle.

“Well, we’ll be seeing you around Y/N. We have a fight to get set up though.” Ungjae nods before the three leave through the crowd.

That very crowd parting for you and your boyfriend as you come through, people recognizing Taeho, “ If you don’t want to look then just tell me, but otherwise you need to keep quiet.”

His whisper is harsh in your ear, yet you can barely make it out over the commotion that the crowd is giving as another man slips into the center area to announce the upcoming right as two others push large covered cages into the area. You feel the sickening feeling in your gut bubbling up at just what you’re about to witness. Assuming it would be some kind of fight between animals, ones you might not be able to look at the same way again after today.

The feeling only gets worse though when the cages are uncovered to reveal two hybrids, their names being announced through the microphone the man is holding. The names mean nothing to you though, even if you could have made them out over the pounding of your heart in your ears. The crowd seems to love it, however, the fighters being two of the big ones here. A wolf hybrid on the left and a lion hybrid on the right.

“Chan, the wolf hybrid is mine.” Your boyfriend whispers, before sighing as he sees your frightened, or rather appalled look, “Don’t be like that baby...they’re just animals, not like us. If you really can’t stomach it though, go to the back and buy a drink. I’ll get you when it’s over.”

You shake your head slightly, not sure what you’re going to do. When Chan looks over though, and into your eyes, you almost feel like you’re going to cry. Leaving back through the crowd to go find a drink like Taeho suggested, knowing there was no way you’d be able to stomach what was about to happen. You also weren’t sure there would be a way to stop it either though.

You down your drink quickly, hoping that along with the cheers of the crowd will be enough to drown out the sounds of the fight. You’re out of luck though as the growls, cries, snapping of jaws, and bones sound clearly through the room. There no way you could drown that out, or the guilt gnawing at you, yet what could you possibly do? You were clearly outnumbered and out forced by people who saw no problems with any of this. Plus you knew the authorities rarely gave more than a slap on a wrist to people who mistreated hybrids. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize someone was coming over to you.

“You can’t stomach it, can you?” Changbin asks leaning against the bar near you, “It’s okay, neither can I.”

Your brows furrow as you look at him, “Then why are you even here?”

Changbin leans in and sends you a flash inside his jacket, where a badge is hidden, before moving to whisper to you, “I’m undercover...hybrid division...and I’m trusting you by letting you know this because I can tell you don’t belong here and I don’t want you to end up in any worse of a situation. So if you’re willing to listen to me, then we’ll help each other out here. Okay?”

You glance back into the crowd to ensure that Taeho is still occupied before nodding at Changbin, “Okay, but what can I possibly do to help you?”

“Well...I’m not going to lie and say it’ll be easy or safe...but I’m hoping you’ll help me break the hybrids out. I can’t get it authorized by higher-ups yet, because this ring is bigger than just what you see today. We still need information, so I can’t risk exposing my identity to them.” Changbin starts, taking a turn at checking to see if you two had drawn attention, “I have a copy of the keys to their cages though and on the back way out you’ll pass by them. What I want you to do is break up with Taeho or at least just insist he point you the way out, it’s crucial he doesn’t go with you. Then get as many cages open on your way out, but be quick. Afterward, call me and let me know everything is okay. I’ll have someone check in as protection just in case. Whatever you do though...don’t take any of the hybrids to your house. Can you do that?”

You debate with yourself for a moment, not sure if you could follow through with what he was asking. At the end of the day though, you’d managed to follow through on getting yourself into this situation and you couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. You find yourself nodding again, holding your hand out for Changbin to slip the keys and paper with his number into. Items that you’re quick to hide in your pockets. Everyone thoroughly invested in the fight as it comes to a roaring end. The fight was closer than anyone could have predicted, as the cheers exploded and the winner helped back into his cage...what’s left of the loser being carted off who knows where. Changbin disappears into the crowd before anyone loses interest in the ring and spots you two talking, leaving it up to you at this point.

"Babe! I won! My fighter won! Plus I bet on him, do you understand how much I just made for us?" Taeho comes over and tries to crush you in an excited hug, only to be confused as you push his arms away. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"I...I can't be here right now...I can't be with you....not knowing that you're doing this. I...I need to leave right now and I don't want you with me...ever." You get out backing up as you shake your head.

Taeho sighs and advances towards you, "Come on baby, there just animals, what does it matter?"

You scoff, "You say that like it makes it better? If you were dogfighting I'd still be disgusted in you. Besides the only person acting like an animal here is you. Now point me the way out and don't show your face to me again."

Taeho shakes his head pointing towards the back like Changbin had earlier, "If you go that way it's a straight shot out. Don't expect me to just drop this conversation though. I'll give you time and then we're gonna talk about it. I can't just not talk to you about it."

You knew you didn't want that, but you were afraid of what the repercussions of making a scene right now might be. So you simply nodded, shoulders slumping in defeat as you headed out the door leading to the back way out. Creeping your way through the damp hallways, the smell of mold and sewage rampant but something you ignored as you came to the first cage. Checking around once more before quickly unlocking it and starting to work your way through the room hoping to get them all. You were almost done when you heard the sound of voices approaching, signaling that you were about out of time. Turning to leave your eyes locked with the same pair from the ring, only now they held slightly less life in them. Chan having been torn up pretty badly in the fight he'd just been in. Looking like he likely stood no chance if you left him here to face off what would no doubt be an infection in one if not many of his wounds later.

So you worked fast to open the cage, ignoring the growl from the wolf hybrid as you moved to help him out. You knew he likely hated you and for good reason, you were a stranger in this environment that had only brought him suffering and pain. You could worry about the dangers of helping him later though. For now, you just needed to get the two of you out...and fast.

“I promise I’m trying to get you someplace better than this, but if they get us then we’re both dead. So I’m gonna need you to help me out.” You whisper to Chan as you slip his arm around your shoulders, your own going around his center to help him out. Moving as quickly as the two of you can ignore Chan’s grumbles as the voices get louder and start to sound somewhat pissed, worrying you that they’d caught onto your acts.

Slipping out the back entrance you make your way down the street, tossing the keys you’d used in some random trash can so that if they caught up to you no one would find any proof you’d done what you had. You were starting to panic though, Chan needed help...you couldn’t just leave him. Yet, Changbin had explicitly said not to take any of the hybrids back to your house. Doing the only thing you could think, you used your free hand to try and call him on the number he gave you, slipping into an alleyway to let Chan sit down to rest.

Changbin taking long enough to answer that you weren’t quite sure he would pick up, “Are you alright Y/N? Is something wrong?”

“Changbin, I got all the cages open...but one of them was hurt from the fight...I think you called him Chan. I helped him get out, he needs more though... I’m worried he’s gonna die or something if I leave him. What should I do?” You whimper over the phone taking turns watching between the street and Chan for his well-being.

“You didn’t take him to your house, did you? They have trackers Y/N...if they spot him at your house there’s going to be a whole slew of problems.” Changbin panics over the phone as you hear a car door close, “In fact where are you? I’m on my way to help.”

“I’m still close to the station...too close I’m afraid. In an alleyway.” You urge Chan up again before he can get any worse helping him to slip out the alley and start away again.

“I’m sending you directions now, to a doctor who specializes in hybrids and a friend of mine. Start heading there, I’ll follow the same path and when we cross I’ll pick you and Chan up.” Changbin says, starting up his car, “Oh and Y/N...be careful. I’ll be there soon.”

When he hangs up, you pull up his directions starting to follow them as Chan grumbles again making you sigh, “Listen...be as bitchy and growly as you want later, but right now your life and mine are on the line so shut it and just come with to the doctor so he can help you.”

“I never asked for anyone’s help. Especially not yours, so why don’t you just run along now to someone who actually gives a fuck. It’s not like you really did anything for me. Fight to live in there or fight to live out here, what’s the real difference.” Chan snaps at you, his harshness stinging slightly despite you knowing it’s his history with people and not you specifically.

“I’m not just going to leave you to die! I don’t care if I have to drag you there I will, but I don’t think that either of us wants that.” You insist already somewhat dragging him along, despite him holding some of his weight still.

“Why the hell not? Why would you possibly want to help me? Do you want a little pet or something? Cause that’s not happening princess.” Chan scoffs waiting for you to announce some underlying motive behind your actions.

“Because I couldn’t live with myself if I just left you. It’s not right. Leaving someone who’s hurt...who you can help all alone to suffer and die. I’m not someone who wants you for a pet. I want you to have a life, which is definitely not on the table if you die. So let’s get you your health back first and then worry about any other obstacles to you getting a full life after that’s resolved, okay?” You don’t get a verbal response from Chan, considering he had no idea what to say. Not used to being treated like an actual person before, his heart softening some at your conviction, it proving you truly had pure intentions. You get some form of an answer though when he straightens up slightly, cooperating further in your helping him.

Chan’s body language changed again though when Changbin pulled up, not trusting him in the least. His gut trusted you, however, and that’s what won out, convincing him to get into the back of the car with you. Letting Changbin drive you two off to an unfamiliar place. One he also was not fond of with how sterile and medical it smelled, only used to that from whenever those who fought them needed something done...like putting in the tracker that was now going to need to be taken out.

“Minho! We need help! He has a tracker though, so take care of that first and give it to me...I’ll make sure you all have plenty of time here.” Changbin calls into the clinic another man popping out to lead the way.

Minho makes quick work of the tracker in Chan’s arm, handing it to Changbin who runs off with it after apologizing for getting you into this mess and leaving you and Chan to find another way home. Before Minho is laying Chan back and getting things ready, putting in a drip iv since he was both dehydrated and it was the best way to give him painkillers at this point.

“He’s going to need someone to look out for him while he recovers,” Minho tells you, starting to stitch up an injury. Chan watches him closely, wary of the situation while he slowly starts to fade out of consciousness due to the meds.

“I can keep an eye on him, I might not do a perfect job but I’ll try my best.” You nod at Minho before smiling at Chan, “You just rest up now, and get better. It’ll all be okay, I promise.”

Chan’s not sure where he is or how much time has passed. all he knows is his eyelids are heavy and his brain foggy. Trapped in a haze from the meds the previous night, yet fighting past it as the smell of food wafted throughout the apartment. His brows furrowing as he sits up, in an unfamiliar bed at that. Not that he was used to any bed, even still knowing that this was someone else’s set his nerves ablaze.

What calmed him though was picking up your scent, this was your bed...yet your scent wasn’t strong enough to imply you slept beside him last night. His assumption confirmed as he looked around and spotted a much less comfortable-looking armchair converted into a makeshift bed while a fit aid kit sat on the night table between the chair and where he slept.

Chan is slow about getting out of bed, being careful of his injuries and the remaining effect of the medicine, yet unable to ignore the call of food. Letting it lead his way to where you were working in the kitchen, mouth-watering at both the sight and the smell as he watched you closely. He wondered to himself if he’d have to sneak any of that for himself though, would you share with him or would you give him something less grand like everyone had before. He couldn’t deny that you treated him differently, yet everyone had their limits...didn’t that?

“Are you feeling alright?” You ask, having spotted him when you finally looked up, “If you’re in pain you can sit down and I can get you something for that really quick. The food is almost done anyway since you shouldn’t take them on an empty stomach.”

“I’m feeling alright at the moment actually, better than after most fights like this to be honest.” Chan admits quietly, slowly stepping closer, “Is that for me too?”

You chuckle and nod, “Yeah, there’s no way I can eat all this by myself. Besides I thought that a good high protein breakfast would help you get some of your energy back and help you recover some more. Sound good?”

“That sounds...that sounds amazing. Thank you.” Chan is flabbergasted, practically in awe of your attitude towards him. As if he was just any other person to you.

“Alright go sit then, don’t strain your injuries. I’ll bring it to you in a minute.” You shoo him away with a smile. Chan’s face is graced with a tiny smile of his own as he moves to listen without much fight for once, looking around to take everything in as he sits at the table. Joined by you with the food after not too long.

“If you’re still hungry afterward I can always make more or you can help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen. Just try not to eat too fast. Minho said sometimes the meds can make your stomach a little sensitive and I don’t think it would be good if you got sick right now.” You advise him as you take your seat, “So...I never actually asked, what’s your name?”

Chan’s brows furrow as he looks up at you after quickly shoveling his first bite of food in, “I mean you know what they called me...Chan...”

You shrug, eating some of your food, ”Yeah, well that’s not what I asked is it? I didn’t ask what they called you, I asked what your name was.”

“Christopher...my name is Christopher.”

The day seemed to pass fairly well, Chan slowly getting more comfortable in your apartment, not that you minded. You encourage him to rest from time to time and let him clean up and put on some clothes you’d run out and gotten for him. Occasionally checking your phone to see if any news came up about what you had done or Changbin texted you anything just in case.

You knew something would come up from last night though you would be naïve to think otherwise. Especially after what Taeho had told you before you left. The chaos coming crashing back into your peaceful little bubble when a fist pounds against your door. Chan’s eyes darkening as he looks over at it, already recognizing the scent on the other side.

“Y/N! Open this door right fucking now! We need to talk!” Taeho yells through the door, making you tense and panic. Your hands shake slightly as you give Chan your phone.

“Chris, take this and text Changbin what’s happening, he’ll send help. Go hide in my room or something, don’t let him know you’re here, or that information might get out.” You whisper to him, knowing that he’d have no problems hearing you.

Chan debates for a moment, not wanting to leave you...especially if you were going to face your pissed-off ex-boyfriend. Yet, he knew it would be better if the information about what you had done didn’t get out. For your sake, as much as his, he knew these were dangerous people, and Taeho was by no means the worst of them. So he went and disappeared into your room, texting Changbin, who he still didn’t necessarily trust, but if it would help and keep you safe he would do it.

You crack the door open and sigh softly at Taeho, “What the hell do you want? I thought you said you’d give me time before showing up to talk about this again?”

Taeho huffs, forcing the door open, not caring if it stays that way as he advances on you, “Yeah, well that’s before you made the dumbass decision to break all of them out.”

You back up as he moves closer, body language screaming aggression, and you hope you can either convince him to leave or help gets here before anything can happen, “What are you even talking about, Taeho?”

“Right after you left, all the hybrids were broken out. You really want to tell me that wasn’t you? After you were oh so disgusted by what was going on? I go out and make us good money, and you turn around and do this to me...well guess what, now it’s my ass on the line, so you better start talking before I turn it around onto you. I will throw you to the wolves if I have to for my own sake.” Taeho hisses, backing you against a wall with no way out.

“Sure, I was disgusted, but how would I even have managed to get them out, Taeho? Huh? They were in cages. What could I do?” You counter trying to push him off, but he doesn’t budge.

“They were, and then someone changed that. I’m guessing it was you, considering everyone else there has been there for a good while.” Taeho shoves you back against the wall.

“Once again, how would I have opened the fucking cages, Taeho? What? Did I just see some bolt cutters lying around and decide to take matters into my own hands?” You purposely throw out a made-up way of opening the cages, and it gets him to give you a little space to breathe at least.

“No...they were open with keys.” Taeho’s voice softens slightly, taking a step back enough to let your now sore back finally come off the wall.

“How would I have gotten my hands on those keys? The only person I would know well enough to be able to sneak them off was you? Were your keys missing? Cause that should be your answer right there? Now, if you’re done throwing out baseless accusations, get the fuck out of my house and go look for whoever the person with a new moral compass is.” You shake your head, hand rubbing slightly at your back.

“Oh, I’m not leaving just yet. I have a feeling you know something at least. Even if you weren’t the one who was behind it, and I’m going to figure out what it is.” Taeho insists, looking around your apartment before spotting two sets of everything laying around, “Who else is here, Y/N?”

“No one, what are you talking about?” You play it off, and he rolls his eyes.

“Two cups of coffee I wouldn’t have batted an eye at, but two take-out meals when you’re on your current healthy eating kick...not so much. Before you make up excuses, I can see that both boxes are empty. So save it and tell me who the fuck is here with you.” Taeho hisses, and when you scoff he grabs your arm, squeezing painfully tight, “I don’t have time for games.”

“Let go of me. No one is here, and even if someone was, that’s not your goddamn business. I don’t want you in my life anymore. That means I can have whoever the hell I want over here, and I don’t have to justify shit to you about it.” You respond, trying to pull out of his grip.

Taeho shoves you behind him, cursing under his breath, “Whatever, it is my business cause I’m the one who’s going to have to pay for it if this comes back to you. If you don’t want to tell me, though, I’ll go figure out who’s here myself.”

“No, the fuck you won’t.” A voice sounds from the entranceway to your apartment. Changbin standing there and walking in, “It seems like you’ve done more than enough damage here Taeho, let’s take this outside.”

“Changbin. So you’re the one, huh? Bet Jian would love to hear all about this.” Taeho chuckles, crossing his arms and scoffing at the other.

“Oh, but he won’t hear a peep.” Changbin counters showing Taeho his badge, “So you can either come willingly, and we can talk terms that are a better deal for you. Or you can make this a whole lot worse for yourself than it already is.”

Taeho huffs before cooperating with the detective, making you wonder just how often he already got into trouble to be able to go along without much direction at all. You truly didn’t know the man he was, the man you thought you loved...who you thought loved you. You were distracted for a moment, though, when Chan rushed out to you, quickly helping you up and looking you over.

“I knew you had been involved! You’re the one who took my fighter!” Taeho screeched heatedly, making Chan’s attention snap to him. His gaze burns through Taeho as he growls towards the man moving to advance on him until you get between them.

“Whoa, easy Chris, don’t do anything to him. He deserves it, but it won’t help you any right now. There are too many people who would use it against hybrids, you and others. Besides, there’s plenty of charges on him right now that he’s going away no matter what, you won’t have to see him ever again.” You insist on trying to be logical, despite knowing that Taeho deserved anything that Chan had intended to do at this point. He had practically asked for it through what he did.

This is why you walked over and slapped him in the face, leaving a mark that would fade by the time anyone else was around, but still giving him a taste of what he deserved, “For the record, though, Christopher doesn’t belong to anyone. You’re just a dumbass who can’t look past his own selfish desires to treat people like they deserve.”

Chan looks at you stunned before pulling you back to him as Taeho suddenly decided to get aggressive again, trying to get to you. Changbin dragged him away to take care of it.

“I’m going to have my last partner come check in on you and make sure it’s safe for you guys to stay here. He’s one of the few people I trust to look out for you guys in this situation. His name is Hyunjin, I’ll send him over. Until then, keep the door closed and locked.” Changbin tells you before he’s entirely out of your apartment with Taeho.

You gently place a hand on Chan’s shoulder to assure him you’re okay before pulling away to close and lock up your apartment. Chan never far behind as he follows after you still concerned.

“Are you alright?” Chan finally speaks up in a soft tone, and you hum looking at him a little confused.

“Yeah, I mean where I got hit still stings some, but I’ll be fine.” You nod, forcing a small smile to try and ease his worries. Chan gently brushed his fingers over where Taeho had grabbed you harshly, already knowing bruises were forming.

“I meant emotionally after all of that...still you don’t need to lie to me about it.” Chan counters yet does not sound angry or cross with you despite calling you out like that.

“You’ve been through more physically and emotionally. I’ll be fine.” You brush it off with a small shrug, moving to walk away and to the kitchen. Your responses only worry Chan more.

“I was used to that by now, though. You’ve just had everything come crashing down onto you all at once after he lied to you about it for who knows how long. That’s a lot, and you don’t have to tell me anything about it if you don’t want to, but you don’t have to force yourself to be fine for me either. Even if we’re both broken right now, that’s okay...maybe...maybe we can help fix each other...together.” Chan’s voice drifts from concerned to hopeful. He’s not sure he has any idea what he’s doing. He just knows that you don’t deserve this, and you’re making him feel for once like he doesn’t either.

You sniffle, turning towards him with a fresh round of tears in your eyes, “ You know what, Chris...I’d like that.”

Besides going to work pretty much all of your time was spent with Chan in your apartment. Your heart breaking for him, he was free from the cage but stuck here until everything could get worked out. You’d gotten closer to Changbin and Hyunjin, Chan slowly coming to trust them with you. The two guiding you through the process that would lead to the numerous court cases looming over you. Minho occasionally popped in as well to check on Chan and make sure he was adjusting to life with you okay.

“So the date for the case to determine if Chris can safely stay with you or not is locked in for next week now. Before then, we want you both to meet some people, one is a hybrid. He wasn’t in fights like Chris, but he was in a rough situation too. The other person is the one who helped him get a life back, like how you’re doing. They had to go through similar trials as you two will, so they might be able to give you some insight on how to go forward. That being said...Chris hasn’t really been around another hybrid outside of the fights, so just take it slow, it might be a bit uncomfortable for a while.” Changbin tells you while Chris and Hyunjin are in the kitchen working up something to eat.

“That would probably help a lot actually. You and Hyunjin have offered a lot of help, but we’re still kind of drawing blind here. Having someone who can kind of guide us on the specifics would probably help a lot with the anxiety, to say the least.” You sigh softly, and Changbin chuckles a little, nodding in agreement.

“Their names are Felix and Jisung. Their schedule is pretty open, we just weren’t sure where you’d be comfortable meeting, so we didn’t invite them over yet.” Changbin explains, pulling out his phone, and you shrugs softly.

“Well, we’re still not wanting Chris to be spotted, so just invite them over it’ll be fine.” You wave him off. Having three guys constantly around your apartment kept it pretty chaotic anyways, what were two more, right? “Speaking of that, though, any idea when the other cases will be?”

“The bust on the ring is happening in a few days, before the first case but not much. Just enough to not put a bigger target on you both by being out in such a public place. It’s just a matter of how long it’ll take to build the case after that. I’d expect it to take about three weeks from the bust, a month at the absolute latest. The hybrid rights case is scheduled for just over a month from now, at this point anyways. Those dates could change, though.”Changbin’s huff tells you he’s no stranger to changing court dates, not that you and Chan are either at this point. Changbin slipping his phone back into his pocket after texting Felix and Jisung your address.

You nod, processing the information he’s just shared with you, “Okay, as long as the bust happens before our court date, I’m not too worried. I just want everything to be as safe as possible.”

Changbin sighs, his lip between his teeth and face concerned, “Either way, it won’t necessarily be safe...or pleasant...There are going to be people who are very against what you and Chris are trying to work towards.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not going to back down from doing the right thing because of that, though. As long as the people who started this whole mess are behind bars and not trying to shut us up, I’ll be alright.” You insist, Changbin nodding, but you can tell he’s still worried about you, “Besides, I’d say we have a pretty good support group.”

Chan pops out of the kitchen, beaming proudly at you, “Hey Y/N! Come look at this!”

You hum, standing to follow the excited man into the kitchen. You watch as his ears twitch, chuckling as you notice him intently eyeing the kitchen timer. Hyunjin, looking up from where he leans against the counter and snickering as well.

“You can open it and look at them, it won’t ruin anything. Besides, sometimes the timer isn’t exactly right anyways.” Hyunjin tells Chan, who shakes his head adamantly.

“No, they need to be perfect. Besides, they’re almost done.” Chan insists, waiting for the ding to launch forward, grabbing the oven mitts so he can pull out whatever is in the oven as there’s a knock on the door. Changbin calls that he’ll get it as Chan pulls cupcakes out of the oven, “Look! We made cupcakes! And we can make a lot more too!”

Chan’s excitement dropping almost immediately, head whipping towards the door. His expression is sharp and concerning you. You look between him and the doorway with furrowed brows.

“What is it Chris, what’s wrong?” The slight waver in your voice draws Chan’s attention to you for a moment. A feeling of guilt bubbling in his gut at worrying you like that.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a cat.” Chan snorts, only confusing you more until you see Changbin appearing with two people. One of them being a cat hybrid, his tail flicking anxiously behind him until he spots the cupcakes.

“Did you bake those?” The cat hybrid perks up, mirroring Chan’s earlier excitement. Chan looks between the cupcakes and the other hybrid, still wary but eventually choosing to interact with the cat hybrid.

“Yeah. I’ve never baked anything before. Hyunjin was showing me how.” Chan slowly answers, and the other man nods along.

“Well, they smell really good. You should go ahead and try them. I bake a lot, and usually something that smells this yummy is.” The cat takes a step away from the cupcakes giving Chan a bit more space to go towards the cakes. Chan hesitates for a moment before holding one out to the other hybrid, much like a peace offering.

“I’m Chris,” Chan speaks, still watching the cat closely but slowly trying to let him in with the same compassion as you had first shown him.

“My name is Felix! We’re here to help you with some of the details for your case, but if you want we can be friends too! I could show you just how many different kinds of things you can bake!” Felix eagerly offers, making Chan light up a little more as he nods along. Slowly adjusting to the fact that, like people, not all hybrids are threats to him either.

You look at Jisung and smile softly, “Thank you for coming. I think this will be really good...for both him and me.”

The day of your first case finally arrived as you stood in front of Chan, fixing his tie for the umpteenth time, trying to calm your own nerves. Chan gently takes your hands into his own, trying to comfort you some.

“I’m nervous too, but it’ll be okay. Everyone is going to be here to stand up for us and help us out.” Chan reassures you, squeezing your hands gently before letting them go as your lawyer arrives.

Seungmin looks between the two of you, “It’ll be alright, just remember what we talked about and it’ll be okay. They’re going to try and throw you off and get under your skin, so don’t let them. Just stay calm and answer like we practiced.”

You and Chan nod before following Seungmin into the courtroom and following him to your place. Passing by where your support group sat, everyone, having cleared their schedule to be here for you even if they weren’t going to need to testify. You glanced back at their smiling, encouraging faces from where you were seated between Chan and Seungmin, before taking a shaky breath to calm yourself. Changbin had told you that you were lucky to get the judge you had, Yang Jeongin, he could be a tough judge, but he was fair when it came to hybrid cases. He treated them as a person, one who could speak for themselves and had a right to do so, which is more than many judges would right now.

Your hand held Chan’s under the table, letting Seungmin do his job knowing that you and Chan would likely be the last ones questioned based on how everyone prepared you for today. So far it seems accurate as Changbin was called up first.

“So Detective Seo would you please explain to everyone how you can to know the defendants?” The prosecutor asks, and while you knew that the question was coming you still felt your nerves spike at that moment. Chan’s history and how you all met was something you knew could either make or break your case today, and you could only hope for the best.

“I was working undercover as part of an operation to take down an illegal hybrid fighting ring. Chan happened to be one of the fighters that they held there by force.” Changbin answers calmly, trying to leave you out of it. The prosecutor is having none of it though, looking between him and you for a moment.

“And what about Miss Y/N? How did you meet her?” They continue to question. Chan picks up on how your heartbeat speeds up, squeezing your hand softly to try and calm you down.

“Her boyfriend was a part of the ring and brought her one night to show her what he did for a living. She wanted out that same night but was concerned for her safety. So -” Changbin goes to defend you, but the prosecutor cuts him off.

“So if I understand you correctly Miss Y/N was unable to read her boyfriend of many years. So how can we be sure she’d know if Chan was going to do something or not? If she can’t be trusted to speak up to someone she was so intimate with, how can speak up to someone she’s known for barely a month?” The prosecutor inquires rhetorically to the judge, before going to sit again.

Seungmin shaking his head and standing to take his place at questioning Changbin, “ Detective Seo it seems the prosecutor cut off the rest of your earlier statement, could you please finish it for us?”

“Sure, since she wanted out, but was concerned for her safety. I suggested how to handle things with her boyfriend at the time and gave her a number in case she needed police protection of any kind. On the way out she released the hybrids and afterward we met to give Chan medical aid.” Changbin finished and Seungmin nodded along as if in thought.

“Would you say this is the kind of thing you see often in your job? Where a criminal’s significant other gets pulled into situations such as this?” Seungmin’s next question is something you weren’t expecting but it gave you some hope of redemption.

“Without a doubt, a lot of criminals are excellent liars so they can keep what they do a secret for a long time. Then when they do finally reveal that world to their significant other they tend to put a lot of fear into them. Mostly to ensure their own protection. Scaring them into not speaking up or anything. Usually, it’s entirely justifiable too. When these people threaten things, they mean it. For example, in Miss Y/N’s case, her boyfriend forced his way into her apartment, invaded her privacy by trying to search her home, and even used physical force to try and coerce her into things after that night where I helped her get away. Had things escalated again we would have had to move both her and Chan to a safe house.” Changbin answers and Seungmin nods.

“So really, Y/N’s morals speak for themselves. As soon as she realized what was going on she freed the hybrids and stood up for what was right even at the price of her own safety.” Seungmin concluded before they let Changbin down from the stand. Him giving you both a small smile in passing.

Minho getting called up next. Putting the pressure on Chan now instead of you, not that it really helped your anxiety too much right now.

“So Dr. Lee, you first met Y/N and Chan when they came in after that fight to get him medical attention. Is that correct?” The prosecutor starts simple, before continuing after Minho voices his confirmation, “ Would you share with us some of the observations you made of Chan at the time?”

“I observed that his injuries appeared to be repeated injuries, likely from years of fighting. He also appeared to be dehydrated and not properly nourished, along with being somewhat agitated. Something not uncommon for someone in that amount of physical pain.” Minho explains and the prosecutor nods.

“What of his mental health? Did you make any observations about that?” The prosecutor presses and you know where he was going. Seungmin and Changbin had warned you they might try to argue that Chan needs to be in a facility after the way he’d been treated in the past.

“I am not authorized to make any observations other than basic of that sort. That being said I can request that a patient of mine go to receive a psych evaluation if I notice things seem to be an issue, based on the basic knowledge of that field I have. When Chan came in I deemed that was unnecessary. I simply suggested that both he and Miss Y/N look into therapy for various reasons as it might help.” Minho answers and that’s enough for the prosecutor to run with.

“Your honor, as you can see the doctor suggested therapy without that medical professional in their life can we actually be sure that their mental states are in a place where they would be safe in a home together?” The prosecutor presses before Jeongin dismisses him and invites Seungmin to question Minho if he chooses.

“Dr. Lee, could you please share with us your reasoning on why each of the defendants might benefit from therapy?” Seungmin inquires and Minho nods.

“In Chan’s case after all he went through it might be prudent to talk things out after them being bottled in for so long, or perhaps to find some underlying PTSD after what he went through. Allow him a way to adjust to having a free life again. In Y/N’s case, it would be due to what her boyfriend of the time did. How he lied to her and then betrayed her trust and even brought harm upon her. Since they have not known each other long, even if trust is there they may not have learned how to fully communicate or might not want to burden the other, which is where a therapist could assist.” Minho responds and Seungmin thanks him, allowing him to leave.

That’s when the real worries set in as the prosecutor sets his eyes on the pair of you, calling Chan up to be questioned first. Saving you for the very end.

“Chan, can you share with us what you remember of your life before the fight happened?” The prosecutor’s questioning Chan about a touchy subject and you know it, not knowing much yourself about his life before the fights.

“I don’t remember much. My parents weren’t around for long, they were sold off when I was little. When I got a little older that family got a new hybrid, a younger one, and threw me out. It was pretty much the streets and then being taken to the fights.” Chan does surprisingly well at staying calm you notice, more so than you would likely do in his shoes.

“So the fights weren’t the first stroke of bad luck you’ve had in life then?” The prosecutor’s question makes Chan roll his eyes.

“Well I was born a hybrid, so no not really. Bad luck tends to follow us around in this society.” Chan huffs softly, slightly more irritated at that question. Making the prosecutor smirk at getting under his skin for a moment.

“How would you say that has impacted your daily life then?” The prosecutor presses further but doesn’t get what he’s looking for in immediate action as Chan calms down again.

“To be honest, it haunts me. A feeling of guilt knowing that you did things you didn’t want because there wasn’t a choice. The pain of losing the few friends you had. The memories of the things you’ve seen and lived through.” Chan answers and the prosecutor nods, turning him over to Seungmin.

“I just have one question for you Chan, that’s it. How would you say that Y/N impacts your daily life?” Seungmin questions and for the first time today, you think you see Chan genuinely smile some.

“Well for starters she taught me not to hate all humans, along with a few other friends I’ve made. Which is another thing she taught me how to make friends again, I don’t have to be afraid of losing them. Or be afraid that all humans will treat me the way I have been before. For once I’m actually happy and she’s teaching me about the world. How to be a part of society and stuff, well as best we could while hiding out until the ring was taken care of and it was safe to go out. I can take care of myself and others even for the first time in my life, plus I feel like I have a life now.” Chan smiles at you and if this were any other time you might let yourself get emotional.

You know that right now you have to stay calm though. That you have to keep it together considering that you’re going to be called up next.

“Miss Y/N, do you have any history working with police or anything similar in nature to your current involvement?” The prosecutor asks and when you respond with no he continues, “What about history when being around or working with hybrids?”

“No, I don’t have any history with that either.” You respond softly, worried that any answer you give might just be what changes things for you and Chan again.

“Then this must all be quite daunting for you, isn’t it?” The prosecutor continues and you shrug softly.

“I mean...at first it was yes. I’m used to it now though. I feel better too, knowing I did what was right and helped people as best that I could.” You respond honestly, knowing that he was just getting started.

“So would you say you have it all figured out then? That you know how to handle anything that comes up with Chan perfectly?” The prosecutor presses.

“Well...no, but-” You go to defend yourself, yet he cuts you off before you can finish much like he’d done earlier with Changbin.

“As you can see your honor, they don’t really know what they’re doing when together. They have good intentions, yes, but there are too many unknowns between the two of them.” The prosecutor takes his seat.

Seungmin comes up to you, offering a small smile, “Miss Y/N can you please finish what you were saying before the prosecution interrupted your statement?”

You give a small nod, “I was going to say that while I don’t know what I’m doing perfectly that’s normal. I’m human, I’m naturally imperfect. Mistakes happen, but I’m willing to try my best, and if a mistake does happen to take responsibility for that. Just like with anything else in life.”

Seungmin hums, “Since you mentioned responsibility would you mind sharing with us what has been on your plate this last month or so? What all have you been responsible for?”

“Sure, it wasn’t safe to be out too much either of us. Especially Chan though, in case someone from the ring spotted us and followed us back. So I would go to work, pick up any groceries on the way home. Or just anything that either of us needed. Then at home, I would make sure we’d eaten and taken care of anything needed for the detectives or the doctor so that I could take it to them the next day. Or arrange an appointment at a time when we could discreetly get Chan there in a safe way.” You answer easily, used to the routine after so long.

“And you did this every day?” Seungmin continues, making you nod softly.

“Yeah, every day except for Sundays. Usually anyways, Sundays we tried to relax or I would try to teach Chan something new.” You respond and Seungmin smiles helping you down and letting you know that you did well.

“Very well, we’ll take a thirty-minute recess to review everything that has been presented. Afterward, we’ll have closing statements, followed by the verdict.” Jeongin announces before the recess begins.

One of the guys brought you both water as they all tried to encourage you, saying they thought it would turn out well for you both. You still weren’t as positive though and Chan could tell, squeezing your hand he leans in.

“It’ll be okay. No matter what you did your best and we can be friends either way.” He whispers his reassurance and you find yourself giving a small smile for his sake.

Thirty minutes was both too long and not long enough. Dragging it out made you more anxious and yet you weren’t sure you wanted to know what the verdict was. You tuned out the final statements, not processing that at this point. Your focus was solely on the judge as you waited to hear what decision had been made.

Jeongin clearing his throat and looked between both sides of the room before beginning to speak, “After analyzing everything and deliberation it has been decided Bang Chan will be allowed to remain with Y/L/N Y/N, however, they will attend 12 hours of mandatory therapy to assist with these new circumstances.” He nods at you and Chan, “And I’ll see you both bright and early for that case against the hybrid fighting ring. Until then, stay safe and don’t cause any trouble.”

You look at Chan stunned, until he happily pulls you into his arms and hugs you with a laugh, “I told you that you didn’t have anything to worry about!”

You chuckle and nod, “ You did, but still it’s a lot.”

Seungmin smiles at you both, “I’ll see you later to discuss the other cases, until then just enjoy this. Detectives Seo and Hwang will escort you home. I believe they had something to discuss with you anyways.”

“Come on we’re going out the back. There’s a crowd out front and they won’t be too happy when they heard what the verdict on your case just now was.” Hyunjin tells you both before leading the way. Changbin following behind you both just in case.

“Okay, what was it that you two wanted to talk to us about though?” You question as you follow their lead easily.

“Ah, about that...it seems someone who works with the ring is still out. So for your safety, we’re going to be moving the both of you to a safe house until after the trial, unless we can secure the suspect sooner.” Changbin admits, sighing softly, “You can get your things from home, and then we can take you there.”

Chan helped you to get your things out of the car and into the safe house. The two of you sitting on the couch while Hyunjin and Changbin made sure the house hadn’t been compromised in any way before letting you both get settled. They had taken care of your work and everything for you so that you both could get to the safe house and made arrangements for anything else that would be necessary while you were in the safehouse.

Hyunjin rubs the back of your neck as he comes over, “So since we didn’t have much time to get this together this place only had one bedroom...one of you can probably take the couch, but even off shift at least Changbin or I will be here to supervise the officers and make sure you’re both safe...so we might be sleeping here too. I guess basically what I’m trying to say is there’s not enough beds or couches for everyone.”

You blush a little, but wave him off, “I mean Chris and I are probably okay sharing a room if you and Changbin are okay taking rotations on the couch or something...if that’s okay with everyone else?”

Chan chuckles and nods, “Yeah I don’t mind, that’s pretty much what we did at the apartment for a few weeks anyway.”

Hyunjin nods and sends you and Chan off in the direction of the room to get settled. You finish up before Chan, sitting on the bed and watching him finish up. Chan looked over at you and laughed softly.

“So what do you want to do now? Read a book?” Chan snickers flopping down beside you.

“I don’t know that we’ll find any entertaining ones around this house.” You laugh a little yourself, “Probably should have thought about that a little bit more when they said we’d have no phones or internet for three weeks.”

“Yeah probably, we’ll find something to do, for now though, I’m gonna go let them know that we’re all good and see if there’s anything else we’re supposed to do before trying to gain some semblance of normalcy here.” Chan smiles at you, reaching out to gently brush your hair out of your face before getting up to leave the room again. In effect, leaving you all alone for now.

After a moment you got up, glancing towards the window. You thought for a moment before deciding to take a peek through the blinds. Nothing that would risk you being seen, just enough to take in your surroundings for now. Hearing the door you turn to face Chan with furrowed brows.

“Get away from there, it’s not safe to be around the windows.” Chan calmly says watching you step away and picking up on your confusion, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Who are the men that just showed up outside the house? Are they more officers?” You try to keep your voice from shaking. The way Chan’s eyes widen at you your question doesn’t help the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach though.

He quickly takes your place, ears twitching as he sneaks a lookout. Before grabbing you and pulling you out of the room. Startling Changbin, Hyunjin, and the others who were there to protect you.

“Four armed men just pulled up. I’m guessing by the look of them that they aren’t with you.” Chan growls out before his ear twitches again, hearing a sound from outside.

He’s quick to drop to the ground with you in his arms. His body wrapped around you for protection as gunshots rang out. His hearing gave him a split-second advantage to get you two in a safer area, even if it still wasn’t a good place to be in. Hyunjin and Changbin round the corner to meet you not long after, guns are drawn and keeping an eye towards the front.

"Are you two alright?" Changbin asks while Hyunjin covers you before having to reload. When both of you voice that you're so far unscathed he continues, "There's no way we're making it out the front with how many guys there are. We're going to have to go out back before they can surround us. When I tell you two to go, run. Outback and look for a car. Don't look back and if we aren't right behind you then just go. Head straight to the police station and let them know what happened."

"Alright." Chan nods, grip firm on your arm, ready to get you out of there as soon as Changbin tells you both to run.

"Go now!" Changbin tells you as for him and Hyunjin lay down cover fire for your escape. About the time you reach the door you hear him cry out in pain though. Looking back you see Changbin hit the ground, leg bleeding from a gunshot wound as Hyunjin tries to cover you and drag him towards the back door.

"Chris they're not gonna make it." You gasp, causing him to glance back as well.

He's quick to shove you out the door, growling out a demand, "Go. Find a car. We're right behind you."

As much as you didn't want to leave them you'd never heard Chan speak to you like that before and your body was on autopilot, listening to what he told you to do right now. Searching outside before finding a somewhat trashy car abandoned between the fence and a rotted out shed. It didn’t matter much what it looked like though as long as it ran well enough to get you all to safety. Wasting no time you run over, yanking open the rusty driver’s door. Sliding in you scour the area for keys, thanking the heavens when you drop the visor and they fall into your lap. Wishing with all you have as the car stalls that you’ll get lucky again. You pause for a moment, before trying again as you see Chan helping Changbin out the door, followed by Hyunjin. Right as panic was setting in the car roared to life, letting you pull forward to let the other get in.

“Drive. I’ll guide you straight to the hospital. Don’t stop for anything. I’ve called it in, so we should be getting an escort meeting up with us along the way.” Hyunjin tells you his arm out the window, firing at the house still.

You waste no time peeling out, following Hyunjin’s direction until the flashing lights of cop cars end up ahead of you and lead the way themselves. Pulling into the ER in a flurry of chaos. You and Chan try to follow Hyunjin and Changbin in, only to have cops stop you, insisting on taking you to a new safe house.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s going to be okay. Besides. Do you even know how they found the last safe house? Until you know I’m just as safe here as I would be at a safe house.” You counter, holding your ground with a stern look.

“We’re. I’m staying with her, and the detectives.” Chan adds, hand moving to rest on the small of your back and guide you through the group of officers and into the hospital.

You sat waiting in the room with Hyunjin and Chan, staring down at your hands still waiting for word from the surgery Changbin had been in to remove the bullet and repair the damage. Chan’s hand sliding over your shoulder as he offers you a cup of coffee.

“I have a feeling you won’t really be sleeping much tonight, so you might need this.” Chan’s voice is soft, his gentle side showing through again and it almost brings you to tears. Looking between him and Hyunjin who both seem rather calm, nursing their own cups.

“How can you be so okay right now? We don’t even know if he’s going to be okay.” You whimper. Chan shushing you as his arm slips further around your shoulders pulling you closer to him, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket.

“As much as it sucks...what’s happened, happened. There’s no changing it now. We have to live with it now, there’s no other option. It’s hell, but you get used to it...well in your case I hope you never have to, but some of us get used to it.” Hyunjin sighs softly, looking down at the black liquid in his cup as he swirls it, “As for Changbin, he’s gonna be okay.”

“How can you be sure?” You ask, Chan, rubbing away your tears almost as quickly as they’re falling.

“Because...it’s Changbin...and because he has to be okay.” Hyunjin gives you a small forced smile, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself along with you.

Your shoulders slumped, bag dropping to the ground as you and Chan entered the safe house. Hyunjin trailing behind as he checked the perimeter once again.

Changbin looks up from his spot on the couch and chuckles softly, “The day went that well huh?”

You sigh shaking your head, “Did you hear the verdict yet? The judge had us leave before they went into deliberation so that hopefully we could get through the crowds and back here quicker. Even out the back way though it took us an hour to even get past the protestors...I was really worried...I expected more people to be there for hybrid rights, but it seems like everyone was on the opposite side today.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be there with you guys today. After the second day, the judge said they wouldn’t need me anymore and that I should rest instead.” Changbin frowns, “People were supporting hybrid rights though, they were just on the opposite side of the street. So they must not have been visible the way you went out...they were certainly much calmer than everyone against them anyways. I’m glad you guys got back okay.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Next time, I’m the one taking the bullet.”

“Oh don’t worry there won’t be a next time.” Chan shakes his head lightly, heading to the kitchen to get you both some water, “How’d the physical therapy go today Changbin?”

“Average for physical therapy...it’s hell in the moment, but after a bit, things go back to normal.” Changbin shrugs as Hyunjin joins you three inside. His radio is going off as the station contacts him.

“Turn the TV on, they’re about to announce the verdict,” Hyunjin informs the rest of you.

You go to stand by Chan’s side as he puts down the bottles, turning to look at the television from his place in the kitchen. Changbin quickly turned it on and changed the channel to where they’d be able to get the announcement. Your hand clutching Chan’s tightly, gnawing at your lip. Finally releasing your breath when the guilty verdict was announced, most of the group getting a sentence of twenty years to life, a few with less or opportunity for probation. That would be something to take care of when the time comes though, for now, the fact was that they couldn’t get to you, Chan, or any of the other hybrids now.

You throw your arms around Chan before realizing what you were doing. He’s quick to slip his own arms around your center though as if it was the most natural thing for the two of you to do. Chan nuzzling at your hair taking in your scent, one of his biggest comforts since all of this started. Before he’s pulling back to look into your eyes, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re safe now! And free!” You beam up at him, a few tears of joy glittering in your eyes as he smiles back at you.

“No we’re safe now, and free to do whatever we want without worry or looking over our shoulder.” Chan’s eyes never leave yours as he finds himself leaning in.

His eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. His lips brushing against yours as he pauses for a moment, searching for any hesitance from you. Instead, you close the last of the space keeping you apart, pressing your lips against his. A kiss he’s been waiting for...that you’ve both been waiting for, and now that it’s finally here neither of you is holding back any longer. Chan’s lips devouring yours, craving more of your taste already. The two of you pulling away only to breathe, not even care about your audience currently. Panting as you look wordlessly at each other, cheeks flushed with heat.

“Two down, just one to go. Afterward, you’ll be free to do that in public too.” Hyunjin chuckles as you and Chan finally look to the two detectives whose eyes long left the television in favor of you.

“I’m not worried about it...I have a good feeling about all that’s to come.” Chan honestly responds before beaming at you again, “Especially some things.”

You didn’t like sitting behind Chan in the courtroom for a change. You didn’t necessarily like sitting in the courtroom at all, but at least beside him, you could hold his hand as some form of comfort. Felix glances at you from his spot beside you, gently grabbing your hand to give it a small squeeze.

“He did really good, and he’s fine even with you back here. I’m sure it’ll be a good verdict.” Felix whispers his assurances to you. Chan’s ears twitch as he picks us the conversation and glances back at you, winking at you with a small smile.

“You helped out a lot too Felix. I don’t think we would have been able to do this without you, especially when you were a good example up on the stand. So thank you.” You squeeze his hand back, making him shrug.

“Hey, anything for family. Though now that you guys are like family I hope you know you’re stuck with us now.” Felix giggles making the others agree quietly.

“For good at that.” Jisung adds chuckling softly, “But you two better quiet down, the judge is coming back.”

You’re rigid, but also practically trembling in anticipation as you wait to hear the court’s decision. Knowing that no matter what you’d always stand by Chan’s side, yet wishing for a positive answer for his sake either way.

Jeongin cleared his throat, pausing as he always did before announcing the verdict, “This court has decided after deliberation to grant Bang Chan full citizenship and rights. If he so chooses to legally change his name from what was given to him in a hybrid facility he can do so at the same time as he signs the citizenship papers. This court is dismissed.”

Felix hugs you before helping you make your way up to where Chan is, “ Congratulations. We’ll see you this weekend for a proper celebration, but until then you two have fun...and be safe.”

You playfully smack his arm at his suggestive teasing, “Whatever. We’ll see you guys this weekend. Be careful getting out of here, it’s crazy outside.”

The others nod as you move to Chan’s side, hugging his side as he looks over the papers. Changbin and Seungmin there as witnesses to sign the papers in addition to Chan and the judge.

“Congratulations. Is there a new name you’d like to legally have?” Jeongin inquires pointing to the blank area where Chan could put in whatever name he’d like to take on.

“Christopher. Christopher Bang.” He smiles at you knowingly as he writes it down before they finish signing everything.

You both shake hands with the judge as he congratulates you both again. Before doing the same with Seungmin, thanking him excessively for all he did to help you both.

“Alright, let's finally get you two home again...it’s been a long month.” Changbin chuckles, leading the way to the car that already had all of your stuff in it, ready to be taken back into your apartment once again.

The car took quite a beating on the way out. Those against the decision throwing things at it in protest, until those who were there in favor of equal rights for hybrids stepped in to help your car safely get out and away from the irate group. Your head falling to rest on Chan’s shoulder relieved that all this was finally over and went well so that you could be home and back into your routine once more. Though no doubt with a few changes now too...not that you’d give them up for anything.

The drive took longer than expected, but you made it nonetheless. Kicking off your shoes as you step into the familiar and yet somewhat forgotten home. Stepping deeper into it knowing that Chan was following behind, stretching and checking your phone that was now in your possession once more. Eyes still glued to it as you turned around towards Chan again.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” You question scrolling through apps for your favorite takeout places.

“I know what I’ll be having,” Chan growls out, in the same voice he had when he told you to leave the safe house. The voice that lit a fire in your gut and had your eyes snapping up to meet his darkening ones.

You don’t get much time to read the feelings filling his eyes though before he takes your phone and puts it aside so as not to distract you anymore. Closing the little gap remaining with a searing kiss. Not having any patience or games, having waited long enough for you by now. Something your heart, mind, and body wholeheartedly agreed with as you feel your arousal starting to pool between your legs. Chan easily picks up the scent of it and nips somewhat harshly at your lower lip with a rumbling growl.

Chan’s arms slip around you and lift your, heading back towards the bedroom, “Fuck, I’m so glad this isn’t illegal anymore...not that it would have stopped me anyway, but still.”

Your giggle is cut short by his lips finding yours again. This kiss is much shorter than the last, but not less heated. Simply ending when Chan tosses you back onto the bed, crawling over your form as his eyes take you in.

“Remind me why we didn’t do this sooner? It’s obvious we both wanted it.” Chan’s question is wanting an answer, yet he’s not making it easy for you to give it as he nips over your neck soothing the little marks with his tongue and lips.

“Because...because we weren’t alone...the others were right outside the room and could have come in at any time.” You pant, already getting more worked up by his actions. Chan’s growl turns into a chuckle as he notices your legs spreading on instinct, already so eager despite still being fully clothed.

“You say that like I would fucking care. I didn’t care if they heard...or saw because at the end of the day you’re mine and it would have just proved that to them...besides I might have been gentler if I had not had to hold back for so long. I don’t know that I can anymore though.” Chan’s teeth are still against your throat, drawing out soft mewls from your lips and teasing you by rutting his clothed bulge against your thigh.

“Then don’t hold back. You’re always talking like you’re the big bad wolf and like I should be so scared of you, so show me what the worst you can do is.” You taunt knowing him well enough to know that just that little bit will be all it takes for him to fully snap.

His hands gripping onto the hem of the dress you wore to court today, ripping it down the middle with no concerns other than getting to your skin beneath it. Giving you no time to argue as he nips over your chest now. Your hands are moving to try and work on pushing off his suit jacket and gripping at his hair.

Chan pulls away snarling at you and pinning your hands, “I don’t think so kitten. You made me wait, so now it’s your turn to wait. And it would be in your best interest to do so too, cause little disobedient kittens don’t get what they want.”

If the scent of your arousal building at the way he grumbled out that threat didn’t give you away to him then the growing wet patch on your panties certainly did. Chan licks his lips and smirks softly at you before deciding to make things a little more challenging for you, tossing his jacket aside. His tie, however, he lays close by on the bed for when you inevitably snap and disobey him. He tugs his shirt off next, with almost as much force as he had your dress, sending buttons flying across the room. His mouth on your chest again, hands gripping firmly at your sides for a moment before trailing up over your form to remove your bra.

Chan pinches one of your pebbled nipples, earning a quiet hiss from you, “Hm so sensitive for me, aren’t you? Trust me you’ll only be getting more sensitive as the night goes on.”

He nips at your other nipple, before suckling softly, fingers eager to give your other nipple equal pleasure. His eyes locked on your face for a reaction as he switches sides, growling in his chest around your nipple when he watches your hands moving down towards him again, his only form of warning to you.

Chan knew if he kept it up though it would only be a matter of time before you gave in and touched him again. He was counting on it. Trailing his mouth lower as his hands ripped your panties off and out of his way. Tongue darting out to flick over your clit, raising a brow at you as your legs fall open and hips twitch up towards his mouth. His hands are quick to hold you firmly in place before fully pressing his face against your core, tongue curling deep into you with little growls and grunts sending vibrations through your core. Chan intent on getting every drop of you on his tongue as he possibly could even as your arousal builds more and more, slicking up his face.

He’s mildly impressed at the fact that you manage to keep your hands to yourself even while trembling in need on the precipice of your impending orgasm. It only encourages him to go harder though, sucking on your clit as he suddenly presses two fingers into you, curling them perfectly against your spot. What finally sent you over that blissful edge though was when his teeth grazed over your clit with the tiniest bit of pressure.

Through your fucked out haze of pleasure you didn’t realize you’d reached down and weaved your hands into his hair until a few moments after Chan had helped you through your release. Looking up at you all too pleased with himself at getting you to finally snap and touch him again.

He grabs your wrists and moves your hands away from him again, “I warned you kitten, now get on your hands and knees.”

“But Chris-” Your whining gets cut off with a sharp cry as he swats at your thigh.

“No buts, now do it before you get yourself into more trouble kitty,” Chan growls, this time it’s a bit more playful though. Letting you know this had been his plan all along and things were going exactly how he’d hoped.

His fingertips tap down your spine as his other hand grabs the tie he’d laid aside. Before doing anything else though his hand crashes down on your ass, hard enough to leave a lasting sting but the pain bleeds into pleasure and it makes him snicker when he can tell you liked it. His hands gripping your wrists to bring them behind your back and tie them together with his tie.

“Filthy little kitten, now you have no choice but to listen.” Chan taunts spanking the other cheek now, before kissing over the sensitive flesh before biting instead.

His desire to fuck you senseless is on the verge of driving him to insanity, but now that he’s had a taste of you he won’t be satisfied unless he makes up for all the previous times he’s wanted a taste of you too. His hands gripping your ass and spreading you open more to give himself unrestrained access to you. Not wasting another second before his mouth is on your core again. Using to his advantage every sensitive spot he learned from your first orgasm while also looking for more to bring you to your next. Pulling away after that one to lap up what he’d missed that had dripped down your thighs, knowing he wouldn’t have the restraint to hold himself back for much longer. He was sure he’d be able to bring you to a third orgasm before that little thread of restraint left snapped though. The determination makes him return to your core with fervor. Like a man starved...which in a way he had been, just not starved of food, just of you.

You’re still trembling from your third and latest orgasm when you hear shuffling behind you before his tip is running through your folds. Collecting your wetness before pushing in as slowly as he can bear for your sake, wanting to let you adjust and not hurt you. His hands gripping at your hips before moving, slowly at first, once he hears your soft moans starting to fill the room, however, he picks up the pace. His hips slapping against your ass, watching the way it moves and enticing him to spank you again. The action makes you clench around him, crying out and clawing at the tie around your wrist at his hard thrusts and the way his hand meets your ass, making him quickly repeat the action, growing out as you clench around him again.

“Fuck...you’re so fucking perfect....so filthy and you love how I’m treating you right now don’t you kitten? Go on, scream my name, let everyone know how good I’m treating you.” Chan grips at your bound wrists, pulling you back into each of his thrusts. His other hand reaching around to rub at your clit, “Shit, you’re going to cum for me again aren’t you? Gonna cream all over my big fucking cock, huh? Do it kitten, but don’t think the night will be over just cause you do.”

This time when you cum Chan doesn’t slow down for a second, if anything he does the opposite. His hand leaves your wrists to slip around your throat and pull you up against his chest. Angling his thrusts to brush against your spot each time as he feels himself getting close to his own edge, but refusing to go over it without you cumming again too. His hips stuttering as he feels your pussy spasming around him on the brink of release once again.

“It’s okay, kitten. Let it go. You’ve done so good for me.” Chan whispers in your ear, nuzzled against your neck as he encourages you to fall into a world of pleasure one final time tonight. He bites down on your neck, roaring out against it as he cums shortly after, riding you both through your highs.

His hands carefully undo your bound hands as he gently lays you down on the bed, slipping away to go get a washcloth. He’s gentle as he cleans between your legs before grabbing a sweatshirt and some panties for you, in just sweatpants himself. Chan leans in gently stroking the hair away from your face, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll help you get cleaned up more later...for now though...how about we seriously think about dinner?” Chan chuckles before blushing a little, “Not that there’s really anything to talk about though...considering I already ordered your favorite. My timing is damn good too, I scheduled it for five minutes from now.”

You laugh, shaking your head slightly at him and playfully smacking his shoulder, “Five whole minutes? Hm you mean you had time to make me cum again and you didn’t?”

Your teasing makes Chan growl and playfully nip at your ear, “Careful what you say kitten, we still have a whole night at our disposal. Who said anything about stopping before sunrise?”

He gets up to go answer the door at the knock, winking at you before his eyes rake over your form again, licking his lips. You two would certainly be celebrating and making up for lost time tonight.

#bang chan smut #bang chan imagine #bang chan oneshot #bang chan x reader #christopher bang smut #christopher bang imagine #stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader

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gc-genshin · 4 years ago

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Chapter One: Acatalepsy

Acatalepsy (noun): The idea that it is impossible to truly comprehend anything.

Pairing: Various x female reader

Summary: You and Xiao have a nice chat.

Warnings: Explicit language

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Since so many people wanted this series to continue, here’s officially Chapter One! Happy reading!

Prologue Chapter Two

You're still having a hard time believing what you're seeing.

In front of you sat Xiao, one of your favorite characters from Genshin Impact, glaring daggers at your seated form. A small table, no bigger than three feet wide, separated you from him.

And there you sat across from him, shaking in your metaphorical boots under his intense gaze.

Let's recap, shall we?

—

“Hi, my name’s [Name] [Last Name] and I'm from a world where you're a fictional character in a video game. It's nice to finally meet you, Guardian Yaksha Xiao.”

As soon as his name slipped from your lips, your neck was met with the end of his polearm. Though you somewhat expected this kind of reaction, you swore your soul had never left your body so fast.

“How do you know my name?” Xiao really did growl at you this time. His amber eyes pierced into your now soulless body, looking downright murderous.

“How do you know that about me? That I was apart of the Yaksha?” If you didn't know any better, you'd say Xiao was getting frantic. You did know better. But you were also a dumbass.

“Would you believe that I'm twenty-two now?” You managed to choke out. The polearm nearly breaking the skin on your neck was your only answer. “OKAY, OKAY, I’M SORRY! Please give me a chance to explain myself! I’ll tell you everything, just please don't turn my head into a shish-kabob!” You pleaded while closing your eyes. Wow, this is the second time today that I've danced with death, you thought humorously.

Xiao stared. And stared. Then stared some more. You were starting to sweat from his unresponsiveness. Peeking an eye open, you saw Xiao contemplate whether or not to believe you. You watched his beautiful amber irises flicker across your face, looking for any sign of deceit.

When he found none, he pulled his polearm away. Not completely, he was still on high alert, but enough so that you could breathe. You nearly wept real Jesus tears when he did. But that almost changed when he roughly grabbed your upper arm and transported you to his room at the Wangshu Inn.

The moment you both rematerialized he let go of your arm. Having been caught off guard from teleporting, you fell to the floor dizzy while trying to keep the vomit that crept up your esophagus down.

Xiao stared blankly at you, “What? Have never experienced teleporting before?”

Looking up at him from the floor, you take a deep breath before responding to him. “No, teleportation is nothing but a pipe dream from my world.” You then slowly sat up and gave him a tired, lopsided smile, “I’d be long dead before it's ever invented.”

Xiao once again just stares at you. You were such an odd human. He had never experienced someone with your type of personality.

Focusing on the task at hand, Xiao walked over towards a small table and proceeded to sit down on one side of it. He then pointed to the side in front of him and uttered a simple word.

“Explain.”

—

And so you did.

You explained everything to him. Like how you were currently a medical student, studying to be an ER doctor. You explained to him how he was a part of a video game you played in your downtime when you weren't studying. How you knew his background. That you knew what was going to happen in the future.

You explained it all.

“So… in your world you're actually twenty-two?” Xiao asked slowly, trying to fully comprehend what you had told him.

“Yup.”

“And your occupation was a healer?”

“Well I was still studying to become one, but essentially yes.”

“And I am considered a fictional character from a video game that you played.”

“Yup.”

“And you know everything that's going to happen in the future?” He pressed.

“Well not everything, only up to a certain point. Which leads me to ask this…” You prop your elbows on the table, interlacing your fingers then resting your chin on them. “Have you seen boy around my ‘age’,” you put air quotations around age, “ with long, braided blonde hair and dressed in all black?” You asked. “He would also have a floating companion that talks a little too much.”

Xiao shook his head. “No, I have not come across anyone that fits your description.”

Looking off to the side, you thought to yourself. Good. So he hasn’t been to Liyue yet.

Xiao raised an eyebrow at you. “How is that good?”

Startled, you whip your head to Xiao. Shit, I guess I said that out loud.

You give a hefty sigh. “Because it gives me a good idea of where I am in the storyline.” You say, looking back to him. “If he hasn’t shown up in Liyue yet that could mean I'm near the beginning of the game. Hell, he might not have even come yet.” You raise a finger to your chin. Then what would be the point of me being here? Would that make me the next traveler then? You looked towards Xiao. Well whatever the reason is, I'm here now. And it's important I found out why. I'll figure out the Aether situation when I get there.

Xiao looked at you confused. “Who are you talking about?”

You snapped out of your thoughts. Hesitating to answer Xiao, you wondered if it was a good idea to tell him about our main protagonist and antagonist just yet.

You give him a apprehensive smile. “I don't know if I should tell you just yet. I don't unknowingly want to start a butterfly effect. I'm sorry.”

Xiao then sighed and put his head in his hands, seemingly at a loss as to what's going on.

I think this is the most emotion I've ever seen from him.

You had half the mind to reach over the table and pet his head to try and calm him down. But then again, you quite liked having your arm, so you decided against it.

You gently spoke to him, “Trust me, I don't know what the hell’s going on either hun. If I knew more then I would tell you in a heartbeat.” You freeze, catching your little mishap. Xiao slowly lifted his head from his hands, looking at you quizzically. No anger, no vexation. Just pure confusion.

“Hun?” You feel your face start to heat up in embarrassment, hearing him say it. It was a bad habit that you had, calling your friends pet names; mainly just friends that you trusted. And you trusted Xiao.

“I'm sorry! It's a really bad habit of mine. I usually call all of my friends a term of endearment. Hun is short for honey, but I swear to God I didn't mean to call you that, it just slipped out!” You quickly explained to him, shaking your hands in front of you.

Xiao stared at you. You noticed he did that a lot. He's probably just trying to understand your weird mannerisms. “It's fine… I guess.” He said, finally looking away from you.

One… Two… Three… Four…

Ah, the silence is awkward now, say something [Name]!

As soon as you were about to open your mouth, Xiao beat you to it. “So what's your plan now?” He asked, now looking back at you.

You blinked at him for a few seconds, processing what he said. You then looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought. What is my plan now? What am I going to do? I obviously can't stay with Xiao, with him being an adeptus, and leech off of him. Maybe I could go to the Adventures’ Guild? Earn some commissions, maybe be homeless for a bit? But I don't even know how to use a sword. No, that wouldn't work–

Cutting your thoughts off, you responded to him with the only answer you could think of.

“I don't know, haven't thought that far ahead.”

Xiao should be used to this already. He really should. But he couldn't help but send the odd girl an unconvinced look.

“You haven't thought of a plan?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey! Need I remind you that you were there from the very beginning? I haven't really had the time nor the mental capacity to think of a plan for the future!” You huffed at him indignantly. This guy. You shake your head, clearing any annoyance you had with him. Getting irritated isn't going to help your situation [Name], relax. Taking a deep breath, you looked at Xiao. He seemed to be in deep thought, so you decided to not bother him.

Crossing your arms on the table, you finally felt exhaustion catching up to you since the adrenaline of everything was wearing off. You laid your head in your arms and sighed, trying your best to ward off sleep.

Xiao looked over at you. Seeing the state you're in, he decided you weren't fit to travel anymore. He then stood up, having made up his mind.

Noticing the abrupt movement from across the table, you see Xiao stand up and walk towards the door.

“Wh… where're you going?” You mumbled to him, too tired to raise your voice. Xiao looked back at you with his hand on the doorknob. “You're not fit to travel any more today. I'm going to talk to the receptionist about getting you a room here at the Inn.” He then opened the door and left.

You stared at the spot he was in for a few seconds. Huh, maybe he isn't such an asshole. You then put your head back into your arms, smiling softly. “Though I knew that already. Thank you Xiao.” That was the last thing you said before finally succumbing to sleep.

—

While walking down the flights of steps to talk to Verr Goldet about your accommodations, Xiao felt a shiver going up his spine. A whisper of his name in your voice flew through the breeze and into his ears. He paused in his steps, contemplating whether he should go back or not. You said you knew what happens when you called his name, yet why would you say it right after he left the room? Xiao suddenly felt nervous for reasons he did not know and teleported back to his room, polearm at the ready to strike any threats that appeared before you or him.

When he only saw you slouched over the table asleep, he relaxed. That was strange. I could have sworn I heard her beckon me. Glancing at you once more, he decided to ask you about it later. He then left the room and teleported right in front of the front desk, scaring Verr Goldet and the Inn’s cat out of their wits.

“Archons, Xiao! A little warning next time would be nice!” Verr Goldet exclaimed, a hand over heart hoping it wouldn't burst out of her chest. Xiao proceeded to ignore her.

“I need a vacant room.” Xiao stated.

Always straight to the point, thought Verr Goldet. “I'm sorry Xiao, but we don't have any vacant rooms. We're all booked for this years Lantern Rite Festival.” She tells Xiao. The young adeptus deadpanned at Verr Goldet. “Don't look at me like that. Why do you even need another room?” Verr Goldet wondered.

Xiao sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's a complicated situation. Let's just say I have an unwelcome guest with me right now.”

Although curious, Verr Goldet just shrugged knowing he wouldn’t outright tell her. “Well either they stay with you or you kick them out. We don't have any rooms for them to stay in unfortunately, so the choice is yours.”

The young adeptus sighed once more.

How troublesome.

—

Appearing back in his room, Xiao looked at you. You were still hunched over the table, in what looked like an uncomfortable position, yet you were still asleep. Xiao weighed his options. On one hand, if you stayed with him he didn't know if you would leave, which would cause problems for the both of them. On the other hand, he could wake you up and kick you to the streets but deal with gnawing guilt that would eat at him if you were ever harmed because of his decisions.

Making up his mind, he walked over to your sleeping form. He then crouched next to you and gently scooped into his arms, doing his best not to wake you. However it seems that you were a deep sleeper and didn't stir in the slightest to being moved. You did, however, snuggle in closer to his chest seeking the warmth it gave off.

Xiao froze, waiting for you to stop moving before moving you over to his bed. Settling you on the bed, you immediately started reaching for blankets craving the protection they gave you from the cold. Xiao only shook his head and rolled his eyes at you, handing you the blankets you oh-so-desperately needed. Is she really twenty-two? Because she acts like a child. Xiao watched as you pulled the blankets up to your chin and snuggled into his pillow, [h/l] [h/c] hair draping over it.

Not needing sleep, the young adeptus decided to sit next to you and watch over you. Not in a creepy way, but in more of a way of trying to understand you. You might have been the strangest human he's ever met, but you were charming. In your own, unique way.

While watching you, Xiao was trying to figure out what to do with you. As far as he knew, you were defenseless, didn't know how to protect yourself, and had a sharp tongue that would most definitely get you into trouble.

In other words, Xiao hadn't thought that far ahead.

There she is! Chapter One! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! As always, feel free to leave any suggestions and constructive criticism and if you wish to be on the taglist, please let me know!

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@craptainlou @lucys-art @dilucsz @i-put-the-dying-in-studying @softyakult @lumi-ying @fraeppuccino @ayachii @cher7ybear @simping-4-fictional-men

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its-real · 4 years ago

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I was going to wait until I had finished doing all the concept sketches for this but uh, I’m lazy so here take it as it is I’ll keep adding surely surely.

-LONG POST-

AU where the hermits fall into the boatem hole with no way to fly out because of some event that happens - maybe an apocalypse, maybe everyone just goes apeshit, who knows - and they all get messed up heads from falling in the void and passing out n fun stuff like that. They ‘land’ - idk how this would work without them dying lol - in a semi futuristic city which for now let’s just call it Boateqm (silent q). The hermit crabs would also fall at different rates therefore appear in the city at different times. So where do they end up?

Hospital gang:

Etho wakes up in a hospital bed with no memories - most of them will wake up with no memories btw - his doctor/nurse (this hospital may be understaffed) Tango asks him a bunch of questions then has to go see another patient. Etho is seen by a certain Bdubs who had just finished visiting his buddy Scar -will get to him next- in the bed next door. Bdubs walks back to notify Scar, a fashion designer, that the guy in the bed across would make a great model, just look at the striking hair! And the red eye! He opens the curtains on the side and Scar gets a look. He asks if Etho would like to be hired. Etho is to say the least very confused and on the verge of a panic attack that never quite seems to happen so he’s in a weird kind of limbo anyway it is now that his doctor/nurse Tango comes back and having overheard the conversation suggests it would be a good idea. The hospital can only take custody of Etho for so long, might as well start earning money now so he doesn’t become homeless. Etho is still very confused. So Tango just agrees to the job for him as his caretaker lol, and besides Scar comes here kinda often so Tango trusts him. Anyway Etho’s true passions he discovers are synthesisers, breeding horses with Bdubs and finding elaborate ways to do tax evasion. A simple man.

Scar is in the hospital because he got SCAR (hehe) from walking into a glass door in his super fancy house, which he owns because he’s a super fucking rich fashion designer of his own label Scara (this is not the first time he’s walked into a glass door). Scar refuses to go to a rich people hospital tho cause 1) he cares about healthcare and wants more funds to go to lower grade hospitals 2) Tango is his mate, and needs a goddam raise. But yeah, very successful, ran for mayor once but someone really didn’t like that which resulted in another hospital visit. Mans in the wars. One hospital visit he got really inspired by the fabric and stuff there so he had a line of clothes that were hospital inspired one time, in turn making hospital inspired garb very trendy for a bit. What a mad lad. Ideas man. Some would call him a genius if he didn’t keep on walking into glass doors n shit. Scar woke up in the back room of a small tailoring shop owned by a nice old couple who took him under their wing. He thanks them in every award speech, and whenever he’s in the area make sure to stop by and give them presents. His side hobby is gardening.

When Tango came to, he was lying on the footpath of a quiet street in the suburbs just out from the main city. Gorgeous day, golden hour, pretty houses, very aesthetic. He also had a leg injury, fuck. So Tango did what anyone would do: hobbled to the nearest house, asked in the nicest way he could under a lot of stress (so he kinda yelled) for a first aid kit, and performed surgery on himself atop the nice families dinner table. The nice family turned out to have called the police and an ambulance, who showed up just as Tango was wrapping up his leg with a bandage and took him away to the police on a stretcher. This debacle got him a leading story on the local newspaper: ‘Man performs surgery on himself after waking up with no memories and a leg injury’. After being questioned by the police, they decide they can’t really charge someone with amnesia and no money with anything like breaking and entering (he did knock and they did let him in) or property damage (blood on the carpet). The paramedics are stunned at his surgery, so they tell the police to take him to the nearest hospital and get him hired there, he could save so many lives. He gets hired by the head doctor after an examination of the surgery. The head doctor doesn’t really care that Tango doesn’t have any records or anything, the hospital is understaffed and Tango seems like an Angel sent down from the heavens to him. Tango is very very good at his job. So good that he gets offered a job at a far better paying hospital which he takes, then soon drops because he prefers the chaos of his old job much better.

Tango found Impulse extremely dehydrated, looking like death, wandering outside his flat one night, so he carried the man inside and saved his life. Now they are flat mates, and Impulse works in a tech store - an upgrade from working at a service station previously.

Bdubs woke up in an inner city park at night, homeless, broke, and in the company of other homeless and broke people. He built his way to success, got luckily hired by some rich asshole to mow their lawns plural - the rich asshole didn’t ask much questions, he just saw a poor man criticising the way a park had been landscaped to an old guy in a caravan and though it was good enough, seeing as the last one quit - and Bdubs didn’t mind too much, because the rich assholes property was really gorgeous. Once Bdubs was able to say he had work experience and wasn’t homeless he started babysitting the kids in the neighbourhood, pretty good money. Plus the kids love him, and everyone he meets loves him, he's just a nice guy. He met Scar because he had to purchase a suit for a kids birthday party, so he went to the cute little tailors shop he always walked past on the way to his favourite cute little gardening supplies shop. By now Bdubs had been promoted to part time gardener - the job is shared - and started working on and off at a building firm. They become besties, turns out Scar is also really into gardening etc etc. Eventually Bdubs becomes an architect, mainly designing for city contractors n such but occasionally designer homes, like the one he did for Scar.

Mumbo and Grian wake up in the hospital around the same time that Etho is still there, however Etho has been awake longer, and should really find a place to stay soon now that he’s got a steady job. Since - ok plot point here - the two are in the exact situation that Etho found himself in, he starts to feel like something weird is going on. Mumbo and Grian take a lot longer to recover than Etho did, and the two become hospital bed neighbor buddies. When they finally recover Scar offers them a temporary place to stay at his house while they find work. Tango gets Impulse to put in a good word for Mumbo at his work.

Nomads:

TFC is an old man who lives in a caravan off the money he made being a very successful miner, he now collects pretty shiny rocks and gems and stuff to give to kids. He’s like an all year round caravan Santa and wise old mystical figure. Dope.

Joe is a humble man who likes to wander. He’s never had a home, but if he needs anything he’ll go to TFC’s caravan or a homeless shelter or something. But he isn’t sad or anything, he really likes the freedom of being a simple wanderer.

Others:

Keralis is a business partner of Bdubs. Kerlalis is mega stonks. He was one of the first to land, had a big diamond in his pocket, bought shares in a company that blew up soon after and now he is really fucking rich.

Doc and Ren are the only ones who remember anything, and they arrive at the same time. Doc manages to keep his cool, but Ren loses his shit and gets thrown in a mental institution. Doc spends some time trying to get Ren out, and after a final success and laying low for a bit the two seek to bring all the hermits together.

Pearl ends up working in Bdubs building company.

Beef works in a music shop -sells records and instruments- and he starts up a record label out back after his boss retires and passes the shop onto him.

And yeah I don’t really know the other Hermits that well was hoping some of ya’ll could help me find places for them in this city :) don’t really know how to format this either so maybe some input would be nice, just wanted to get the idea out hehehe

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actress4him · 3 years ago

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Kestrel Sisters AU - Starving

(Days 5 and 25 of Whumpay)

This piece is for the original Kestrel Sisters AU (not the BBU version). Leigh and Liliana have been kidnapped by Leigh’s former whumper, Malcolm, and are being held in an abandoned warehouse.

Malcolm and Leigh belong to @for-the-love-of-angst ! Thank you for letting me play with them!

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Warnings: lady whumpees with male whumper, captivity, referenced parental death/abandonment, homelessness, starvation, touch repulsion, touch starvation, implied torture, self-deprecating thoughts

It’s quiet in the dark concrete room. Leigh is awake, but silent, insisting on ‘keeping watch’ even though they’re both aware by now that she won’t be able to do anything to stop Malcolm if he comes for one of them.

Liliana is supposed to be asleep. She’s curled up in the corner, shivering, arms wrapped around her middle as if she could possibly hold in some warmth or ease the cramps in her empty stomach. It isn’t the first time she’s needed to sleep in the cold, and it’s certainly not the first time she’s gone hungry. Hunger has become such a familiar part of her life over the past two years that she wouldn’t know who she was without it.

She’s never let it get this bad before, though. There’s not ever much to eat, but there’s usually something. So far, in the time they’ve been here, which has to have been a couple of days, at least, he’s only offered them water. Which helps, of course, but can only go so far.

Another cramp threatens to rip her in half, and she curls in further on herself, biting back a whimper.

“Lili? You okay?”

It throws her off, still, how casual and familiar Leigh is with her. Giving her a nickname, acting like they’ve known each other for years. Which, for Leigh, they have, in a way. Apparently she was old enough when…they were separated, however that happened, that she actually remembers her sisters. Probably remembers calling her by that nickname when she was just a baby.

It’s all too wild and overwhelming for Liliana to quite get a grasp on, though. Part of her even refuses to believe it. To accept that her parents, the ones that she grew up with, the ones that she fled from as soon as she turned eighteen, aren’t even her actual parents, and that she…had? has? another set of parents out there who…what? Died? Abandoned her? She doesn’t even know, isn’t sure she wants to know. Leigh might be able to tell her, but they haven’t had a lot of time for chitchat in between being tormented by their captor.

“Are you awake?”

Oh, right. She’d apparently gone into a daze, unaware of how much time was passing since Leigh first addressed her. “Mhm. ‘m fine.” Her voice sounds atrocious. Going from months on end of hardly speaking at all to a couple of days of screaming and crying has not done it any favors.

There’s the sound of movement, and a moment later Leigh crawls close enough that she can actually make out her features in the darkness. A look of concern is etched into her face, though that seems to be her default right now, when she doesn’t look angry or in pain. “Are you sure? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“N-no.” Finally deciding that she can’t stand the cold of the concrete floor seeping through her clothes anymore, she shoves herself upward with weak, shaky arms, immediately regretting it when what little she can see disappears into a black void.

When her brain stops pounding into her skull and she’s aware of her surroundings again, there are hands on her, gripping her arms. Gasping sharply, she jerks away. Her spine slams against the wall, heart beating wildly.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. You almost fell, I was trying to help.”

It’s Leigh. Just Leigh, no one is trying to hurt her.

“S-sorry. Sorry.” She sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. “I j-just, um…got lightheaded.”

Leigh hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything else right away. Liliana can almost feel her staring, analyzing her, but she can’t find it in her to worry about that right now. Her head has started aching again, rivaling the pain in her stomach, and she’s so weak and shaky that it’s taking all of her focus just to stay upright. An extra intense shiver nearly knocks her over.

“You’re freezing.” It isn’t quite a question, but it’s more than a statement. Liliana isn’t sure how she’s the only one shivering, in this frigid room, but then again, maybe it’s just her. She always struggles to keep warm.

“I’d offer to share some body heat with you, but…” Leigh trails off, leaving the thought unfinished. There are probably a couple of ways it could end. “But you just freaked out when I touched you,” and “But you smell like a dumpster,” are both valid options.

“I’m fine.”

Silence falls again. Liliana listens to Leigh’s breathing and tries to match her own to it, but it’s difficult to keep a steady rhythm.

“Listen, I know I’ve already said this once, but…I’m so sorry that you got caught up in this. You…do-…-e here…me…-colm…you…”

Liliana grits her teeth, trying to focus on the words, but they fade in and out, mixing with the pounding of her pulse in her temples. Then they stop, and she should say something, she’s being rude, but she doesn’t even know what was said and she’s not used to carrying on conversations and she’s not really sure what words even are anymore, her mind is just static and pain and cold and hunger, until she feels herself falling sideways and can’t do a thing to stop it.

She wakes lying on her back with her head pillowed on something softer than the concrete. There’s a hand on her face, and she flinches, trying to swat it away, but her arms are made of lead and won’t cooperate. The hand moves anyway.

“Shh, Lili. You’re okay. Can you hear me?”

She gives a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan in response.

“Okay. I need you to tell me something. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

It takes her a moment to fully comprehend the question, but she shakes her head no.

“Good. That’s good.” Leigh hesitates, and Liliana takes a second to try and orient herself. Leigh’s face is above her now. She must be…yes, she’s lying with her head on her lap. The proximity makes her heart skip a beat, but she doesn’t have the strength to change her position.

“When’s the last time you ate something? Before…before coming here?”

Food. Liliana’s stomach groans at the thought. It’s a struggle to get her mind to go back that far, to remember the day before she was kidnapped, and even more of a struggle to put the memories into words.

“I…I had a…the end of…a sandwich? Like…like…” ¿Cuál es la palabra, cuál es la palabra? “…el pan, con mayonesa. Para el desayuno.” She doesn’t even register that she’s switched to the language she grew up speaking.

“Not a whole sandwich? Just…bread with mayonnaise?”

Liliana hums in agreement, holding up two fingers to indicate how big the piece had been. She’d hoped for at least a little bit of meat left on it when she pulled it out of its takeout box, but hadn’t been that lucky.

“¿Qué más?” Leigh urges softly.

“Saved the…the fries…for dinner.”

“Fries. Okay. Just…plain fries?”

“Mhm.” It had been about a handful. Most were the small, crunchy bits, but she didn’t mind. They had good seasoning, even cold.

“And that was…the day before you were taken? You didn’t eat anything the day of?”

“No. No pude encontrar nada.” She’d just thought she was hungry that morning. It was nothing compared to now.

“You couldn’t find…” Leigh cuts off, then after a moment leans down so she’s looking Liliana directly in the eyes. She tries to focus in on her, but her facial features seem to be wavering and multiplying.

“Lili…I could be completely wrong about this, but…are you…homeless?”

The shame is like a punch to the chest. It’s not like she’s tried to hide the truth from her…her sister. But she was perfectly okay with her not knowing. From what she’d gathered from her clothing and snippets of conversation, she’s a successful businesswoman. Might even possibly be the CEO of a company, if she’d heard correctly.

And her little sister lives next to a dumpster and survives off other people’s trash and charity.

Still, she can’t lie to her. So she nods, slowly, and whispers, “Sí.”

There’s no real reaction. Leigh leans her head back against the wall again, staring off into the distance, not saying anything. Before Liliana can go too deep into her spiral of she’s disgusted by me she’s ashamed to call me sister she wishes I’d stayed out of her life, though, something touches the top of her head, yanking her attention away. It’s…fingers. Leigh is running her fingers through Liliana’s hair.

She freezes, mind going in a dozen different directions. Someone’s touching her, and touching always means pain, but…this feels really nice? It doesn’t hurt at all, but it could hurt, it could change at any moment, she could grab a handful of her hair and pull…but then again this is Leigh, and she hasn’t treated her with anything but kindness over the past couple of days. But she really shouldn’t be touching her hair, her hair is gross, it’s greasy and matted and no nice, respectable person like Leigh should be putting their hands anywhere near it. Except it’s so gentle, and soothing, and she hasn’t been touched like this in…in years, and she can’t seem to do anything but melt into it, eyes drifting shut.

“You were probably half starving already,” Leigh murmurs. Liliana’s eyes flicker open at the sound, but are too heavy to stay that way long. “We ne-…-ou some foo-…-re really worr-…me.”

The pitch blackness behind her eyelids is inviting. Her head doesn’t hurt so much anymore, even her stomach has calmed, no longer trying to turn itself inside out. She doesn’t know what Leigh is saying, but her voice is soothing, despite the fact that it sounds very far away.

Suddenly the hair petting stops, and there’s a warm hand on her cheek, tapping. Pulling herself back up out of the depths of the darkness is difficult, but eventually she manages to pry her eyes open, the pain in her head spiking again with her return.

“Lili, you need to stay awake.”

Stay awake? Had she fallen asleep? She tries to answer, but words are hard. English, especially, is hard. “Cansado,” she finally manages.

“Sí, lo sé.” She doesn’t go back to rubbing her hair, and Liliana wishes she would, but she does keep her hand against her cheek, and that feels pretty nice, too. Occasionally her thumb strokes across her cheekbone.

They spend what could be an eternity like that, Liliana floating on the edge of consciousness while Leigh does her best to keep her on the waking side of it. Sometimes she nearly gives into the darkness again, and the tapping fingers bring her back. Sometimes Leigh hums, or talks, and even though she can’t concentrate on what she’s saying it’s nice to have the reminder that she’s not alone.

Finally, the lock on the heavy door turns with an echoing click that catches her attention. She turns her head on Leigh’s lap just in time to see the door creak open slightly, a man’s hand rolling three water bottles onto the floor.

“Hey!” Leigh’s voice rings out sharply, none of the earlier softness there now. The hand is gone, but the door pauses, not closing yet. “Tell Malcolm that if he doesn’t get some food in here right now he’s about to lose one of his pets.”

The door opens a bit more, and the man steps in - through the haze, Liliana recognizes him as one of the men who’d grabbed her from the alley - light spilling into the room with him. He squints in their direction, looking them up and down.

A sharp pain stabs through Liliana’s stomach, and she winces before shutting her eyes again. Leigh and the man are having a conversation above her that she can’t decipher. Somewhere in the distance, there’s the sound of a door shutting, then a hand begins carding through her hair again, fingers tapping on her cheek. She hums, but can’t make her eyes open this time. It’s just too hard.

The next thing she’s aware of is a scent. It takes her a moment to process it and place where she’s smelled it before. It’s…peanut butter. Her eyes pry themselves open almost of their own volition, even though she’s half convinced that she’s hallucinating.

“Hey, chica.” Leigh smiles down at her, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve got food for you, open up.”

Liliana obeys automatically, and a small piece of something is slipped between her lips. The taste of peanut butter explodes across her tongue. Whatever it is, it’s chewy, with chunks in it that she identifies as peanuts. Leigh is waiting with another piece pinched in her fingers as soon as she’s done swallowing that one.

As she chews the second bite, her eyes flick up to Leigh’s face, and the granola bar she’s holding. A small smile crosses her lips when she sees Liliana looking at her. “You really scared us, you know that?”

Liliana isn’t sure what she did, but she whispers, “Sorry.”

“Just eat right now.” Leigh pushes another bite up to her mouth. “But let me know if it gets to be too much.”

“I can…I can do it.” Having to be hand fed is far too embarrassing. The look Leigh gives her is dubious, but she holds the granola bar out to her anyway. It takes all of Liliana’s strength to raise her arm and grasp it, hand shaking so hard she nearly misses, and once it’s in her hand she can’t quite seem to bring it any closer to her face. She feels pathetic. Leigh hasn’t had food while they were here, either, and she seems perfectly fine.

Without a word, Leigh wraps her hand around Liliana’s and guides the food toward her. It isn’t much better than hand feeding, but Liliana swallows what little pride she has left and accepts it.

She manages to make it through three-fourths of the granola bar before she decides she can’t hold anymore. Leigh wraps it up carefully and sets it to the side, then goes immediately back to petting her hair.

“We’ll try to get some more in you in a little while. There’s another bar here, too, that you can have when you’re done with this one.”

There’s something…questionable about that statement, but she doesn’t currently have the energy to figure out what and why.

They stay huddled together for a while longer, not speaking much. Eventually Leigh helps Liliana sit up again, which sends her head spinning, though not as badly as before. She takes more bites of granola bar whenever she feels she can. Leigh stays pressed up against her side the whole time, and Liliana is surprised to find she doesn’t mind it at all.

Then the lock turns and the door opens again, and Malcolm himself steps inside. A harsh shiver runs down Liliana’s spine at the sight of him. Leigh shifts even closer to her, face set like stone.

“Well, Birdy.” His voice is sickly sweet, his eyes roving over them with far too much delight. “I think it’s time you pay me for the food you ordered.”

Liliana can feel the way Leigh flinches, and finds herself reaching out to hold onto her arm. She doesn’t know precisely what the man wants, but she knows it isn’t good.

“I did you a favor,” Leigh spits. “I kept you from killing her with your neglect.”

Instead of getting angry, he smiles. “Hm. You’re right, the little one is the troublemaker, here.” His gaze is solely on Liliana now, and it makes her skin crawl. “Maybe she should be the one to pay up.”

“No!” Leigh is on her feet instantly. “I’ll do it. Leave her alone.”

“Leigh -” She may not know her sister very well, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t scared for her.

“It’s okay, Lili. Just keep resting. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Liliana watches helplessly as Malcolm latches onto Leigh and tugs her out of the room. The door shuts and locks with an ominous clang. She’s suddenly freezing again without Leigh next to her, but she’s pretty sure that the way her body is trembling is more from fear than the cold.

She isn’t worth whatever he’s about to do to Leigh. She should have just left her alone.

#whumpay2022 #no.5 #no.25 #when’s the last time you ate?#touch starved #lady whump #lady whumpee #captivity whump #homelessness tw #starvation tw #touch repulsed #implied torture tw #self deprecating thoughts #liliana the healer #kestrel sisters #querencia au

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ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her · 3 years ago

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Flesh, Part 1

Excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

Previous Excerpt

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And now we come to what you’ve all been waiting for, the meat of this book {Editing Note: Boooo}. The gory details, such as they are, of how we acquire our flesh. It’s a topic that’s captured the public imagination for a long time - we’ve all heard plenty of lurid stories and speculation all our lives. I frankly wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve skipped straight to this chapter to finally hear it straight from the monster’s mouth. I’ll do my best to satisfy your curiosity. Understand, though - this topic is deadly serious, and more than almost any other subject I’ve covered, I’m aware of the danger inherent in revealing this. If the information I lay out here compromises these avenues of flesh, people will die for it. I will tell you as much as I can without risking that outcome.

{Editing Note: Everything after this needs strict review, and not just from me. Get as many eyes as possible on this before publishing.}

Nearly every ghoul has or will participate in the direct acquisition of flesh at some point. Finding food is an involved process, and not a particularly scaleable one. There are no factory farms for humans, nor should there be. Truly steady supplies of flesh are rare. Most of our methods involve gathering a small group of ghouls periodically, rather than just one or two of us working continuously. This, unfortunately, causes inconsistencies in supply more often than is comfortable. As such, we’ve had ample opportunity to figure out exactly how much flesh we need to survive.

For the average mature ghoul, 5 pounds of flesh per day is the ideal consumption rate. Very roughly, we should be eating one adult human body per month for peak health. Put that starkly, it’s a grim picture. Extrapolate from that, and that means each of us is eating 12 humans a year. Obviously, we don’t eat that much from the moment of birth. I remember starting to get hungry more often around age 15, and I can count on one hand the number of ghouls I’ve met over 50, so let’s call the 35 years between those two ages our lifespan. Over the course of our lives, we will each eat over 400 humans. When you look at it from that angle, one life against 400, it’s no wonder that you have, as a whole, decided that we need to die.

But that angle misses some important subtleties. For one, we can handle some remarkably flexible feeding patterns. We can subsist on much less than an ideal diet for a very long time without serious ill effects. For example, I follow a fairly common feeding pattern and only eat half-meals three weeks out of every four. The only ill effects I notice are increased exhaustion and soreness, usually beginning towards the end of the second week and gradually escalating until the fourth. We can also go for multiple days without eating before noticing any ill effects. Many ghouls have only one or two very large meals each week. I personally prefer to have smaller meals more consistently - it makes me feel more human - but it’s a pattern I’ve followed plenty of times when flesh is scarce.

The other main subtlety that the math I presented above misses is that, often, we do not have to kill for flesh. People die all the time from causes that have nothing to do with us, and rarely in ways that make their flesh inedible. We have hardy constitutions and strong stomachs - most diseases and toxic chemicals can be processed and rendered inert in our digestive tracts. There are nearly three million deaths every year in the U.S. alone, the vast majority of which have nothing to do with us. If we could utilize all of that flesh, we could comfortably feed 250,000 ghouls without harming a single person. Obviously that’s never going to happen, but I also doubt there are that many ghouls in the country, so… Suffice to say that there is, theoretically, more than enough ethically-sourced flesh to go around.

Utilizing that flesh, however, is a significant logistical challenge. People aren’t in the habit of donating their bodies for our dining pleasure, and people tend to take the security of their loved ones’ remains pretty seriously. Taking flesh by force, even when we’re not trying to part it from a living body, is difficult, dangerous, messy work, so we prefer to sidestep that wherever possible. This brings us nicely to the first of our three main strategies: farming.

Farming is, unfortunately, our least productive method, but it’s the one that I hope we’ll be able to rely on entirely, some nebulous day in the future. Farming is the practice of discreetly smuggling dead flesh, produced by natural causes, out of the facilities where it is held. This is the only method we use that is sustainable, in the sense that it requires one or two ghouls working constantly and delivering a steady supply, rather than the periodic group efforts I described earlier. This method is also unusual in that it depends on us being integrated in human society, integrated enough to have unsupervised access to dead flesh.

There are two primary sources that we farm. First, there are hospitals. Countless surgical procedures result in the separation of flesh from living humans. Sometimes this flesh is passed along for scientific analysis, but most of it ends up classified as medical waste sooner rather than later. As I’ve said, though, we can safely handle most of the factors that cause limbs to be amputated or organs to be removed. Once these have been marked for disposal, ghouls working at the hospital can usually hide away the flesh for later retrieval without anyone noticing its absence. Unfortunately, caution requires our farmers to take less than is truly salvageable, given how damning it is to be caught stealing flesh. They also avoid taking whole cadavers, which are much more closely observed while in the hospital, and are typically handed over to other people rather than fully disposed of. We also, as a general rule, are careful to avoid eating anything cancerous. Tumors are something of a taboo, only to be eaten in times of extreme famine. We are as vulnerable to cancer as humans are, and there is a strong fear that eating tumors may cause you to absorb some of the cancerous cells into your own body, where they will be free to grow again. I can’t speak to the truth of that, but it’s not a fate I’m interested in tempting.

Our other main farming source is funeral homes. Contrary to popular perception, and to government defence policies, we actually have very little interest in robbing graveyards. By the time bodies go in the ground, they’ve usually been rendered inedible by embalming practices. Given how robust our digestive tracts are, it’s my theory that embalming practices were, at some point in history, specifically designed to protect human bodies from us. Obviously not all bodies are properly embalmed, but there’s no way to tell that without digging one up, and digging up a grave is hard. It is far more beneficial for us to intercept the bodies before they get to that stage. Therefore, we find it very valuable to train as morticians. This allows us to take cuts of flesh before a body is embalmed. Over the years, we’ve figured out exactly how much flesh can be taken and from where without showing at an open casket funeral. For closed caskets, or for cremations, we can take nearly the entire body without detection.

{Editing Note: That’s going to be upsetting for anyone who’s ever buried a family member. I’m not sure how to address that gently. I don’t know how receptive most people would be to “it’s okay that we ate your grandma because it means we got to live long enough to eat other people’s grandmas”.}

Unfortunately, there are a limited number of jobs with access to farmable bodies, and as the number of ghouls in those positions increase, so does the chance of one of them being discovered. Some of you, I’m sure, have seen how paranoid everyone gets when one of us is outed among you. We can’t even come close to fully utilizing these outlets without risking a lot of us dying. My household is fortunate - three of our members are farmers, and we may be gaining a fourth, depending on what degree Scarlet actually settles on. But that supply of farmed flesh is not always enough to feed all of us, and it certainly isn’t enough for Yaga’s charity projects. So about once a month, we send out a group to engage in our second method - gathering.

As I said, there are a lot of deaths that have nothing to do with us. Gathering is our attempt to get ahold of some of those dead before other factors take care of them. Death is, unfortunately, unpredictable, so the best we can do is send people out at irregular intervals to scoop up what we can. A gathering party typically consists of at least half a dozen ghouls; the exact size depends on the amount of ground we want to cover, how many bodies we expect to be transporting, and how worried we are about getting into a violent confrontation. Ideally, no one gets hurt by our gathering parties, but no one is going to look too kindly on body snatching, and sometimes we just attract the wrong kind of attention. If we need an especially large group, or if we intend to cover a particularly large area, we might even reach out to other households for extra help in exchange for a share of our find.

A gathering run typically begins at night, in the poorer parts of the city. I’m sure gathering happens in rural areas, but I can’t speak to their methods. In the city, though, it’s the poor and the homeless and the addicts, the abandoned of human society that are most likely to die somewhere we can get to them. So we put on anonymizing clothing and start looking. Our most reliable leads come from homeless communities and drug sites. Sometimes it’s enough to just show up, make small talk, and look around for the dead or imminently dying. If it’s the latter, sometimes we just wait - keep them company while they wait for the end. Unfortunately for us, people don’t generally die all at once at predictable intervals; it’s not uncommon for us to find no bodies at all. Fortunately, there are some people who are desperate enough to sell us leads. Buying leads is a dangerous game - any person who knows us to be ghouls, even if we take pains to conceal our identities from them, is one more person who could bring the exterminators down on us - and the more effective the method of gathering leads is, the more dangerous it is. The safest thing is to find a stranger and offer them money for a lead, one time deal, and never contact them again. Regular contacts have more opportunities to expose us, whether for exterminator money, moral duty, or just by being careless, but if they know to expect us, they can amass leads, or sometimes even hold bodies for us to buy off them directly. I’ve heard that some households even have arrangements with organized crime to act as free, efficient body disposal.

Once we’ve thoroughly checked these areas, the next step is to check accident sites. Typically we’ll separate to stake out common suicide and accident sites. These aren’t particularly reliable either, but they turn up bodies often enough to be worth staking out once we’ve exhausted our more proactive options. Sometimes, on particularly slow gathering parties, we’ll break out a police scanner and listen for any incident reports likely to produce a body and see if we can get there before the cops. It’s a dangerous game, and often no more lucrative than our other approaches, but there is nothing more depressing or upsetting than coming back from gathering empty handed. Coming home empty handed means we need to take more drastic measures.

I’ve been on around a dozen gathering parties so far. Most of them went well enough, with minimal incident and moderate success. I’ve been on two where we had to chase police scanners. And I’ve been on one that came back empty-handed. That isn’t the only one my household has ever run that came back empty-handed, but it’s the one that stuck out most in my mind because it’s the one time I felt personally responsible for what happened next. When our regular gathering still doesn’t produce enough flesh, we have three options, none of them pleasant. We could all tighten our belts, ration our flesh carefully, and try to endure until we can make up our shortfall. There are a lot of factors that can make this approach unsafe, though. Starving isn’t any more pleasant for us than it is for humans, and it can make us less careful than is safe. Or sometimes someone is injured or sick and wouldn’t be able to handle stricter rationing. Our next option is to organize a gathering raid. There are plenty of hospitals and funeral homes that we can’t farm, for one reason or another, but sometimes we can steal from them. This is a high-risk endeavor, obviously. Anywhere that handles human remains is on the lookout for this kind of thing, and even if we get away clean, the raid will almost certainly make the news and bring exterminators sniffing around. That’s not even touching the fact that, just because we aren’t farming somewhere, that doesn’t mean someone else isn’t. The kind of scrutiny a raid draws can be a death sentence for any ghouls working at the raid target. So, most of the time, Yaga chooses to take our third option. She calls for a Hunt.

{Editing Note: I need to talk to Spatha before I write the rest of this. I need to convince her that I’ll just listen this time, and then I need to actually do that. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t want to reopen this wound between us. I don’t want to risk our friendship. Is this project really worth that? Do I seriously think it will make a difference?}

#my writing #memoirs of a flesh eater #original fiction #not tlt

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gofancyninjaworld · 4 years ago

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OPM Manga Chapter 147 Review: Toxic

Story: Preview to a catastrophe

I’m going to do something a little unusual. Rather than give a summary of what happened, I’m going to save everything else that happens that for the meta and focus the story itself on just one thing. Garou’s return.

For a guy of many many words, Garou here is wordless, a creature of instinct, rage, and an unstoppable desire to put down any hero he encounters. Social niceties be damned.

no, Fubuki, you don’t belong in this battle

Bomb realises very quickly that this isn’t going to be a fight that he can afford to not engage fully with. He wastes no time unleashing his trademark long-range offensive move, although he’s no slouch in close- up fighting either. I love how the panel below superimposes several snapshots in time in a single image, as if the cameraman hasn’t enough time to separate the action into individual frames. It sells the speed and fury of the fight better than many blurry images. Also Murata is flexing on us with regards to his portrayal of fight choreography, he’s allowed. :)

For his own part, Garou flows effortlessly from conventional to unconventional in his fighting, bending improbably out of the way one moment, parrying in an orthodox manner the next. Eventually the seeming balance between the two breaks inexorably in Garou’s favour, leaving Bomb marvelling at the former’s incredible evolution.

Nothing for it, there’s no choice but to kill Garou if possible. Bomb hides a hand behind his back as he readies his iron-cutting fist one last time. It’s unfortunate that Garou has long since intuited how to do the same when he faced off against the Monster King, half a day ago ( I know, it’s been years for us), and does exactly the same, matching up timing and intensity perfectly with Bomb’s, thus cancelling it out.

Bang finally catches up to where the two are fighting to find his elder brother defeated.

Just as at the end of chapter 83, master and disciple face off. But the atmosphere between the two could not be more different, and the stakes are about as high as they could possibly get.

What new awakening will come from the next fight? Portents are dire.

Meta: Elsewhere

What doesn’t kill me has made a tactical mistake

For a story whose big schtick is that surviving what should have killed one makes one stronger, it’s surprising the amount and variety of mileage it gets out of that idea.

Making light of the idea, we have Genos literally rocketing back to his feet and casually dusting himself off after being smashed into a hole in the ground by Black Sperm. After being thrown into or through so many bits of masonry and earth, getting up with elan is nothing to him. Damn, he’s become tough! Awesome.

On the opposite side, making dark of the idea, we have Fuhrer Ugly, whose strength of hatred and rage is such that he keeps continuously reforming despite being continually digested by Gums’ digestive fluids... and has turned that into a new ability, able to melt anyone who touches him, kill with his spit, and reform after being cut. Terrifying.

And on the other other side, a perfect hypotenuse of awesome and terrifying, we have Garou. He has disinterred himself from the remains of the Monster Association base and while apparently fighting more by instinct than reason, his moves reprise everything he’s learned to date through his life-and-death fights with incredible fluency.

And of course, there’s Tank Top Master whose tank top seems to have magically preserved his life. I wonder what Fubuki has in mind for Pig God to do to help her help Tank Top Master.

Anyway, talking about serious injury...

Let’s talk about gore, baby

I’ve said before that I’m tired of all injuries accruing to either Genos or Zombieman and wanted some flesh-and-blood to be mangled. I don’t take that back: share the pain, baby!

But even for my evil heart, hoo, the brutal suddenness with which Fuhrer Ugly ended Zambai’s life was yikes! Heroes may never die, but those next to them have no such protection. I’m sorry man. You paid the highest price for supporting a hero.

Heroes may never die but that doesn’t mean they can’t suffer horribly. If Tank Top Master being turned into a human patty wasn’t grisly enough, finding out that SuperAlloy’s famously resistant shine isn’t chemically resistant is enough to give one a shudder of horror/disgust: his hands have been defleshed down to tendon and bone.

Never mind fear; it’s going to be a while before SuperAlloy *can* fight at all. And with his chest being burned as well, I think that he will be lucky not to come away with disfiguring scars. He might start wearing a shirt after this...

ONE, have some mercy for your heroes or half of them will never work again. But not too much mercy, they’ve had it too easy for too long.

There’s more to help than rescue

If you’d told me that this day would see Genos earning the trust and respect of the heroes he has called the bitch and the witch respectively, and that feeling would be mutual, I’d have told you to stop fantasising. I’ve spent enough words talking about the unexpected compassion he showed to Fubuki when the latter was beside herself with worry for her sister.

Tatsumaki has internalised the advice Blast gave her so thoroughly that she’s come to think herself as being beyond help. But there’s more to help than haplessly accepting rescue. Help can also be someone intervening only when you most need it, respecting that you can generally take care of yourself. Help can be sharing the burden, enabling you to achieve more, more easily. Help can be having your back so you can fight without fear of ambush. All of these forms of help Genos has provided to Tatsumaki from the moment the battle pitched high into the sky. And she’s had his back too. Seeing her consciously acknowledge that and lean into it was an amazing gift I didn’t know I needed.

from allies in name only to comrades-in-arms, what a fearsome pair! Gambatte!

Of course it can get worse

The heroes’ situation seems to be getting worse and worse. Their number is being whittled down to size: Tank Top Master is out for the count, Bang is tied up, Superalloy Darkshine is maimed, Atomic is out of his main weapon, Child Emperor is lost somewhere and Puri Puri is looking for him, Zombieman and Amai Mask are still pulling themselves together, and Tatsumaki and Genos are standing more by spite than strength.

On the other hand, the monsters aren’t out of monster by any means. There’s still lots of Black Sperm, Evil Natural Water is surely sloshing around somewhere, Vomited Furher Ugly is a pungent threat, and Homeless Emperor is watching proceedings with an amused eye. I called the monsters the sundew monsters for a reason -- they waste heroes by outlasting their efforts.

The standing heroes are going to need respite, or a diversion, or reinforcements pretty soon or they’re going to all die for real. Preferably all three. We’ll take two out of three.

Further notes: The Cyborg is Listening

The first thing Kuseno says to Genos when the latter comes back after a bruising encounter with a monster is ‘are you alright?’ That we know. The second thing has to be ‘did you bring me good data?’ Everything that happens to Genos, everything he touches, everything he sees, everything he hears, all that information is recorded for later recall and distillation into useable data. We’ve been admiring how capable and tough this new upgrade has proven to be. It’s all hard-won insights, built one on the other. Does that mean I’m discounting what Genos does? Hell no. It’s his extreme courage and willingness to step into the most hopeless situations that has enabled this valuable data to be gathered in the first place. And it’s his using these wonderful upgrades to push as hard as he can despite the risk that makes it worth Kuseno’s while to stay up late to craft them. Now I’m super-interested in finding out what new insights the pair will glean from today’s fighting.

...polite engineer for ‘fuck you’

Sure, like many serious things in One-Punch Man, it initially appears as a gag, but if you’ve not been paying attention to date, hear this: good data is like gold dust in this world. And people will kill for it. As we watch the dissipating contrails where Drive Knight was as he carries his precious samples home, don’t way you weren’t warned.

#OPM #manga #review #Garou #but not as we know him #the free fight between hero and monster gets ever more intense #despite their cooperation and numbers the heroes are getting the worst of it #this is a fight where everything changes panel to panel on all fronts

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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

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Speak My Name In Tongues

1| 2(you are here) | 3 | 4

Summary: Bruce Wayne is determined to get his daughter to safety and aid (read: take over for) the Parisian heroes in capturing their supervillains of over six years. Unfortunately, these two goals are in direct conflict. (all of biodad bruce things can be read as stand alones but I do post in chronological order)

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Let it be said that Bruce Wayne is a persistent man.

When he wants something, he does not stop on the first or second failed attempt. It doesn’t matter if the world believes something to be impossible. It doesn’t matter if he fails spectacularly to achieve his goal multiple times, in fashions that would likely result in any man of lesser wealth becoming the laughing stock of the global community for months. In order for him to cease his pursuit, he must come to the realization that whatever he’s pursuing is not worth the effort. This is a very rare occasion. Most times when Bruce comes to this conclusion, his decision can be traced back to the trauma of his parents death and the subsequent consequences of his vigilante life style (read: not pursuing Jason’s death, letting Barbara get shot.)

Thus, when Marinette turns down his offer of a safer life, he will not take her rejection at face value. A lesser man might. But Bruce is not any such thing.

Anything that Marinette is involved in-- and he finds that she does a lot-- all oh-so-coincidentally happen to be things that Wayne Enterprises invests in as well. He marks down each and every charity event and gala that she is scheduled to attend and makes an appearance there as well. When he finds that she supports all of her collége friends in their pursuits, he attends too.

Somehow, she manages to skillfully evade being drawn into any long conversation with him and always ensures that there’s a third person involved when he even says hello. If Bruce weren’t trying so hard to have a talk with her, he’d say that her ability to do so was really quite impressive and spoke to the reach of her network. But again, Bruce is trying to convince his daughter that he’s not safe in Paris by herself when the League most likely has a bounty on her head. If Talia finds out that he had a daughter not borne by her-- she’s certainly changed in recent years, becoming more volatile and much less like the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

He half believes that with Marinette’s wit, intellect, and escape abilities, she may even be able to hold her own against the League. Unfortunate that the League has weapons training and she does not.

“Marinette,” Bruce approaches her at a Bourgeois evening party. She has friends in high places, that’s for certain. Chloe Bourgeois works at her company in the public relations department as does Adrien Agreste, which definitely turned a lot of heads in the fashion industry as nobody expected the boy to work for anybody but his father, nor did they expect him to stop his modelling career in the prime of his life. For modelling works, she turns to Juleka Couffaine and occasionally Olympic hopefuls Kagami Tsurugi, Alix Kubdel, Ondine and Kim Le Chien. Thanks to her connections to Rose Lavillant, she’s produced an entire line of scents that go with MDC’s evening wear. MDC is extensively covered by Aurore Boreale, one of the youngest talk show hosts in the industry, Alya Cesaire, a young journalist who’s won international acclaim with her writing, and Nadja Chamack, a Senior Executive producer of TVi. Though Bruce is rather impartial to the music industry, she’s well known for working with international singers Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and Luka Couffaine as well as an up and coming EDM artist named Nino Lahiffe. In the film sector, she works closely with Tom Astruc and Graham Industries, with Adrien’s cousin, Felix.

As the saying goes, Who you know is everything.

Marinette smiles, teeth bared. Even the way she stands is sharp.

It’s difficult reconciling the girl in front of him with the pictures he saw while doing background checks on her, or even the girl he saw at the bar just three nights ago. At least, it’s difficult for Bruce to reconcile her when she’s around him; Marinette seems to be very much the same girl around her friends, which is almost just as frightening. When she’s with Adrien or Alya of Kagami, it’s as if her parent’s death didn’t even happen. All smiles and sunshine and good will. She still attends all of the charity events she signed up for, has increased the amount of hours she spends volunteering at homeless shelters and akuma shelters-- and Bruce has no clue in hell how Paris’ supervillain situation has gone unchecked for so long, but he already has several agents tracking down Hawkmoth and the Miraculous team to no avail-- and goes to work on a normal schedule. Since Tom and Sabine’s death, she’s taken no time off.

In the presence of Bruce Wayne, however, there’s a great shift in her demeanor. There is nothing warm about her, and despite the fact that Marinette is his daughter and that she’s more than a full foot shorter than him, he finds himself wary of her. That says something, considering the types of people he faces down as Batman near daily.

For the first time, she allows him to approach without dodging him.

“M. Wayne.” Marinette begins to meander to a less public place, all while maintaining a pretty media smile and waving to acquaintances as she passes them. The moment the door closes behind him, a flip is switched.

“Leave me alone,” she growls. “I don’t want or need your protection.”

“Your parents were murdered.”

“You don’t think I know that? I was the one who found their corpses.”

“They’ll come after you, next.” The League of Assassins never leaves their jobs half done. Marinette is more of an achilles heel than Tom and Sabine were-- despite not being in her life, he cares for her. He can’t deny that if she were murdered, he’d probably get caught up in a fit of rage. The Lazarus Pits have not been good for his mental state over the years.

Marinette crosses her arms, sleeves fluttering around her. “You think you know who did it.”

“I don’t think I know; I’m sure who did it.”

“No,” Marinette says in a strangely detached tone. “You think you know who did it. You don’t actually know, do you, Dark Knight?”

Bruce’s stomach fills with dread. Something about her statement makes him feel nauseous. Queasy, even. “I do. The League of Assassins--”

“You think everything revolves around you, don’t you? Bruce Wayne and Batman are not the only ones with enemies.”

“You’re suggesting that you have enemies who would be willing to kill your parents?” Bruce isn’t sure how to take this. Marinette does have a fairly large following, runs in the most powerful and influential Parisian circles, and has money to spare. But as far as his research told him, she didn’t do anything to egregiously offend anybody, besides maybe one Lila Rossi and Chloe Bourgeois, though the latter of the two rectified their relationship eventually.

“I don’t,” Marinette denies. “But Ladybug does.”

“The superhero.” Is his age finally catching up to him?

“The superhero,” Marinette agrees, looking at Bruce contemplatively.

“Ladybug and I-- we’re close,” Marinette settles on. “Close enough for our bakery to become a safe house of sorts for the Miraculous team. Hawkmoth--no, Pavona. She either acted out of anger for her past with me or just wanted to strike a blow at the Miraculous team.”

Bruce feels a migraine coming on. It’s on days like this when he wishes he were a drinking sort of man. “Why would Pavona be upset with you?”

Marinette laughs, humorlessly. “World’s greatest detective, huh? Maybe you’ll figure it out eventually.”

He gets the feeling that their conversation is quickly coming to a close, and figures that whatever issue Marinette and Pavona have is something he can decipher later, “It doesn’t seem like Pavona has done much with this information. The Miraculous Team seems to be in high spirits, and there haven’t been any akumatizations in the past two weeks.”

Another dry laugh. “Wrong move at the wrong time. And besides Ladybug and you, nobody else knows.”

Marinette pushes past him, back to the door, back to the party. She pauses at the door. “I’ll put the two of you in contact. Until then, keep a lid on you and your operative’s emotions. I’m sure trained agents like yourselves can restrain yourself from feeling anger or sorrow for a while.”

Bruce is left with two horrifying realizations: Marinette is in a situation where she’s in over her head, and Sabine and Tom’s deaths have not been publicized.

Batman and Bruce have never liked magic or metas, and Ladybug seems to be both. It doesn’t help that she’s so high strung and seems to be inexplicably angry at him from the moment that he steps foot at their prearranged meetup.

“I sent you the ground rules if you want to operate in Paris. Forward it to your operatives. Follow the rules or leave.”

“I’m here to take down Hawkmoth,” Batman says with a bone-weary tiredness.

Ladybug crosses her arms in a fashion that’s achingly familiar. “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you and your people the ground rules and a chance. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be allowed here.”

“Ladybug, you and your team have failed to catch Hawkmoth for six years now.”

“You and your team have been fighting the same set of villains for over thirty years. I wonder which one of us is really worse off.”

Batman grimaces.

The heroine looks out at the night sky and sighs. “Look, this is a very stressful situation. Pavona acted out in one of the worst ways possible, and even though she and Hawkmoth seem to be MIA, it’s still not ideal.”

He remembers that Marinette said Ladybug and her parents were close. Batman stumbles over his words. He’s never been the best at comforting people, and healthy coping mechanisms simply don’t run in the family. There’s definitely a reason why he and all of his children take to vigilantism so well. “Tom and Sabine-- they were great people.”

Ladybug stills.

Batman doesn’t know how old she is, or how old any of the Miraculous team is, besides from Chloe Bourgeois, who used to be Queen Bee. Something in the way her shoulders hunch, how her jaw trembles, and eyes water makes Batman feel like she’s just a child. But she can’t be. Not if she’s been protecting a city for six years. If he had to guess her age, he’d put her in her mid to late twenties, maybe even early thirties.

“They were the most loving people I’ve ever known,” Ladybug says. “It was a privilege to know them.”

He’s not sure who made the decision to not release Tom and Sabine’s death to the public, but Batman recognizes it as a tactical decision. It only took a short amount of time to hack into security cameras near Marinette’s residence and filter through the sighting of the Miraculous Team at Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie, stopping to chat with Marinette or one of her parents, sometimes eating there, sometimes staying the night, using their living room as a gathering point. From there, it’s not difficult to realize that Marinette or Ladybug is keeping this information from the rest of their team in order to ensure that their civilian or superhero identities don’t get compromised by an akuma or a sentimonster.

In comparison to the Scarecrow, who makes his victims fight their worst fears, Batman can’t help but think that turning people into their insecurities and angers is worse. At least with Scarecrow, there’s a chance that people can win against whatever they’re fighting. Once a Parisian is turned into an akuma or sentimonster, they just have to hope that somebody else will come in and save the day. Victimhood with the cruelest twist, similar to when the Joker tried to make Dick into the Joker Jr.

“Pavona. What’s her deal with Marinette?”

Ladybug’s laugh is hollow and familiar. “Didn’t Marinette tell you to figure it out on your own?”

“I need to know,” Batman insists. “I want to protect her. I don’t want her to get hurt like that again.”

“You have noble intentions, Batman,” Ladybug says quietly. “A kind heart. But you are mistaken in thinking that Pavona can hurt Marinette anymore. Even if Pavona tries to, she won’t be able to. Tom and Sabine-- they were the weak link. Everyone else she loves is safe.”

Ladybug pauses, looks sideways at Batman, then stares out at the Parisian skyline again. “Everyone except for you. You’re not safe, here in Paris. You know that, don’t you?”

“She--” his mouth dries. There’s a lot of information to process, but he focuses on one thing. “She loves me?”

He doesn’t think he’s heard those words come out of any of his kid’s mouths. He knows that all of them do love each other in their own messed up ways and knows that his sons and daughters are more likely to show their affection in actions instead of words, but Marinette is a biological child that he’s never interacted with before this month. How can she love him when all he’s done is push her away?

“She loves you.” Ladybug closes her eyes. “But that makes her a fool. She’s clung to the hope that she’d get to know you for years. Look where that’s gotten her. She gets to meet you at the price of her parents' lives. So please, don’t mess this up. The best way to protect her is by making sure that you’re safe. Really, I’d want you to leave Paris and forget about her. She’ll be okay. We’ll keep her safe.”

Batman says nothing for a time. Ladybug is right in thinking that Marinette shouldn’t love him, but she’s not right in her belief that she can protect her. After all, Tom and Sabine are still dead. “But I can make sure no one hurts her. I may not be someone she interacts with normally, but I can’t see her die.”

Ladybug makes a keening sound in the back of her throat. “I know, Batman. We’re not as trained as you and your team. I know you want to keep her safe. That’s why I’m letting you and your team help us. Because we’re just not enough.”

“You’ve done a lot to keep this city safe.” He wants to be mad at her for involving a civilian family, but he can’t find it in him. She seems so young. Does she have parents? Do her parents know that she’s Ladybug?

“But not enough.” She wanders to the edge of the building, yoyo in hand. “When this is all over-- maybe the two of you can spend some time getting to know each other.”

Batman stares at the spotted heroine. “Maybe someday.”

“That’s not very convincing.” Ladybug turns so that he can’t see her face. “Be kind to her. She’s alone.”

“She has you. She has your team.” Neither Bruce nor Batman has been very good at comfort during a time of loss.

Ladybug fiddles with the chain around her neck. Two rings as a pendant. She clenches her fist around them and goes still for a moment. “We’re too similar to comfort each other. And we both agreed that telling the team… it would be disastrous. Tom and Sabine were parents to all of us. Pavona is scheduled to come back soon. If we tell them now, it might end in another mass akumatization. That’s something we have to avoid.”

Pavona is coming back? How did Ladybug even know that she left? How—

Batman stills. The muggy Parisian warmth is only alleviated by a brief breeze that makes Ladybug’s hair ties fly in the wind. Anger wells up in the back of his throat, and he feels the Lazarus in him spike, knows that behind the white film of his cowl, his eyes are turning green. “You know who Pavona is. Why hasn’t she been brought in yet? Why—”

Ladybug could have prevented Tom and Sabine’s death. She could have saved Marinette the loss of her parents.

Marinette could have retained her innocence. Been kept out of the world of superheroes and supervillains, been kept safely on the sidelines if only Ladybug weren’t so selfish, wasn’t so foolish to bring in a civilian family with no training and no background.

“Marinette and I have known for a long time,” Ladybug cuts him off, and he’s ready to put his hands to her throat, but no. Justice, not vengeance. He will make sure that Ladybug’s wrongdoings are brought to light. He will right her wrongs. “For four years, it was Hawkmoth and Mayura. Once Pavona showed up, we thought-- we thought that between her and Hawkmoth that she’d be the lesser of the two evils. We had no clue who Hawkmoth was, but we knew that they were working together. Pavona was left free to roam in hope that she’d lead us to Hawkmoth. That we could finally end the fight.”

Ladybug’s back straightens. She turns, and her eyes are all blue steel and pain. It’s then that Batman realizes that Ladybug truly did love Tom and Sabine with her whole heart.

“I see that I was wrong. Hawkmoth kills indiscriminately. But Pavona-- her grudges run deep. Mayura was the kindest of the three. The reason Pavona killed Tom and Sabine was petty.” Ladybug’s voice crumples, as do her legs. She hunches in on herself, hugging her knees. Batman watches on from a distance.

What was it she said? That she and Marinette were too similar to comfort each other? One day, Batman may find himself furious at Ladybug for making the decisions she did. But right now, all he sees is a child.

“I’m sure you’ve looked into Marinette’s past,” Ladybug starts.

Batman makes a noise of affirmation, but she clearly wasn’t looking for permission to go on. She was trying to collect herself in order to tell a story.

“There was a transfer all the way back in collège. She was very popular amongst her classmates. Beautiful, well connected, charismatic. There was no way people wouldn’t love her.”

Ladybug glances back at him. “Come, sit, Monsieur. I do not know you well, but I don’t bite.”

Bruce— Bruce does not want to sit with her. But Batman says that he has to hear her out. To give her a chance, at least. Batman has made mistakes over the course of his career as well, his actions and inactions affecting too many for him to keep track of. He would be a hypocrite if he didn’t let Ladybug speak, even if Sabine and Marinette are two people he never would have dreamed of involving. Still, he keeps one hand firmly on a batarang. The videos shows that not much damage can be done to the superheroes when they’re suited up, save for attacks with magic, but nothing is absolute. There’s always a way to bring an opponent down. “Is it that shocking of a story?”

“No. Not at all. If anything, it’s a typical story of teenage drama, except perhaps a bit more than that. But I need the reassurance that you won’t run off once I finish.” She lets the two rings go, gentle thud of the two rings pressing against each other and her collar bone. The rings seem familiar.

Batman sits, albeit warily and at least five feet away from his companion. Ladybug hasn’t proven untrustworthy so far, but she is still part meta and a magic user, from what he’s gathered. He wouldn’t put it past her or one of her team, particularly the one who creates illusions, to do something. He just doesn’t know what.

“This beautiful, charming classmate easily swayed Marinette’s class to her side.” Ladybug peeks at Batman through her bangs. “Understand that the classmates are children. Children in a class where power means that trouble and responsibility never stick. They learned that taking action meant you would be blamed.”

Batman wonders how Marinette and Ladybug met. Maybe it was through this very class she’s talking about now. If that’s true, it does not bode well for his perception of her.

“Marinette recognized this classmate for what she was. A liar. She promised all sorts of beautiful things-- things that played to their classmate’s biggest dreams. Working with their favorite artist. Meeting olympic athletes and musicians. Trips to impossible places. Perhaps if Marinette wans’t who she was, she would have believed her, too. But this classmate lied about two things Marinette knew were false. She lied about being a hero. She lied about me.”

“How do you and Marinette know each other?” It was incredibly difficult to find the video evidence of the Miraculous team going to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. Batman had to call in a favor from Zatara and avoiding her questions as to why— he’d much preferred it if he were able to go through any normal channel instead.

“We’ve known each other since the beginning.” Ladybug fiddles with her yoyo, refusing to look him in the eyes. “Marinette tried to get her friends to realize the truth. But everybody wanted what she was saying to be real. It’s hard to say otherwise when everything they ever wanted could be found in a single person. And Marinette didn’t pick the smartest ways to try to reveal her lies.

“That beautiful, charming classmate didn’t like Marinette trying to debunk her entire persona. She grew to be very cunning. She hurt Marinette in so many ways. I lost track over how many times Marinette got suspended or temporarily expelled, only for her to be brought back at the behest of the one other person in her class who knew the truth. Her designs were stolen. The boy she loved grew into a shell in order to protect himself. Her friends drifted away-- not that they were cruel or anything, they were taught inaction above all else, to not say a word about whatever happened in class ever since ecole-- but Marinette was really lonely.

“It was sort of a blessing in disguise. During this time, a lot of the Miraculous Team went on a break of sorts, and it was only Chat Noir and I. We had to get stronger and smarter and Marinette and her family provided relief and moral support. If her friends were close to her during that time, things may have ended really badly. Hawkmoth may have caught on to more secret identities than he already knew.”

“Does Marinette know who you and Chat Noir are underneath the mask?” To put the weight of their alter egos on a civilian is cruel. It’s why his own was so closely guarded. He’s not a fan of Marinette knowing his existence as Bruce, let alone Ladybug.

“The more people who know our identities, the greater a chance Hawkmoth has at taking our Miraculous.”

A non answer. Clever wording on Ladybug’s part. Although he can imagine Sabine agreeing to put up a bunch of teenage superheroes in her bakery, he knows that it’s impossible for anything to escape from her eyes for very long. He’d bet anything that she figured out the majority of the team’s identities. And by extension, anything that Sabien finds out, Marinette is bound to find out as well; her past indicates that she has an equal, if not higher level of intelligence and creativity that Sabine had.

Had. They went for so long without patching anything up. Why was he so foolish? So Hard headed? She offered him so many chances to reconnect, to connect with Marinette, to be a second father to her. She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him left, that much he knew, what with how utterly in love she was with Tom, and he was happy for her. Happy that she found somebody more stable than him.

If he and Sabine were closer, could he have prevented their deaths? Would he have been clued into the situation of a magic supervillain in Paris sooner?

He can’t be mad at Ladybug. Not when Batman, a hero with decades of experience on her, failed to step in. Refused to look old problems in the eye. Let loved ones die for his own inability to communicate.

“For a while, Marinette didn’t fight back. She didn’t want the boy she loved, her best friend, to get in any more trouble than he already was, trying to protect her. She laid low. But the classmate was very interested in this boy as well. The classmate tried to break him to get him to love her.”

Ladybug smiles wryly. “You can imagine that was the end of her rope. Marinette thought that the only person the liar was targeting was herself. After three years of bearing the weight, she finally snapped. She started using the resources she had. And the wasn’t any grandiose thing, though in retrospect, perhaps it should have been. She wouldn’t have ended up in prison, no she’s too young, and one of the two main victims was under lock and key, and Marinette was never hurt to the point where the liar would face real consequences for her actions. All that happened was a restraining order and her removal from Marinette’s school.”

“The girl’s name is Lila Rossi. She was already a suspect for working with Hawkmoth at the time by helping him turn people into akumas. Then Mayura stopped showing up and Pavona took her place. Pavona was clearly targeting everything and anything near Marinette. I should have seen the signs, but I had years of experience on her, and the Miraculous Cure--” Ladybug breaks off. “From one point of view, even Hawkmoth is better than her, because at least he didn’t cause any irreversible deaths.”

The Miraculous Cure is cruel. It only reverses the damage done with a Miraculous or while Ladybug is transformed. When Tom and Sabine were murdered, Pavona and the Peacock Miraculous were nowhere in sight.

Batman can’t say whether Pavona is better or worse than Hawkmoth. But Lila Rossi-- he recognizes the name. He knows what she looks like, since her image came up when he was doing a background check on Marinette. It’s quite possible that she has some type of mental disorder. Now is not the time to think about that. Hawkmoth’s identity needs to be revealed, and quickly. “How did you connect the two with the magic protecting your identities?”

“I used a little magic of my own.”

Beneath them, more and more lights begin to flicker out. Even though Paris is nicknamed the City of Lights, due to the extensive drain on energy, shops are required to turn off their exterior lighting after 1AM.

“Please,” Ladybug says. “Please help me find Hawkmoth. Please help me put them in prison. I-- I’ve been fighting for so long, and it was a duty I didn’t even want for the longest time. I just want all of this to be over. I want to be able to scream and cry and mourn without Hawkmoth and Pavona trying to manipulate me. Please.”

Batman has never been one for physical affection, but he pats Ladybug awkwardly on her back. She launches herself into his arms, curling into him and sobs as he awkwardly rubs her back. He keeps his eyes trained at a distance, watching for any akumas or amoks.

“Please,” she warbles, eyes watery. “Be good to Marinette. Be a good father. Be someone for her to lean on.”

His muscles tighten. He’s never claimed to be a good father, let alone a good man. He tries to do right, but Marinette is different from all of the other kids he’s taken in over the years. She’s not from Gotham. She had parents who were kind and stable and normal. He doesn’t think he can be a good father to her.

Somehow, Ladybug guesses exactly what he’s thinking. “You just have to be yourself. It may be stupid and foolish, but she loves you. She really does.”

For a long time, the two of them stay on that roof, Ladybug buried in the crook of Batman’s arm.

_____________________________________________________

@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip

also if i missed you please just lmk in the appropriate place again! and is it a me thing or a tumblr thing that some of these tags just wont WORK AUGH. thank you all for the support on the fics i’ve posted so far! i’m quite bad at posting regularly because all sense of time has been stripped away

hahahaha consistent chapter length? what’s that? (jokes on you these aren’t chapters just loosely related chronologically told one shots. what even makes a cohesive story a story)

#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dad bruce #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #marinette is mdc #angst #hurt/comfort #bruce is an okay dad even when he doesn't know he's being a dad #miraculous ladybug #dcu #maribat

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

Text

Arkham Files: Pied Piper

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Hartley Rathaway, alias Henry Darrow; also known as the Pied Piper. The patient shows signs of depression and general emotional distress, but I have not yet been able to give him a full psychiatric evaluation. Session One. So, young man, your name is Hartley Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Yes, sir.

Hugo Strange: Any connection to Osgood and Rachel Rathaway, the billionaire publishing magnates?

Pied Piper: They’re my parents, sir.

Hugo Strange: (Surprised) You mean to tell me that you’re that Hartley Rathaway? The boy who was set to inherit a fortune as large as the GDP of some small countries?

Pied Piper: I’m the only Hartley Rathaway! Ever! Nobody but my parents would stick a child with a name like that!

Hugo Strange: So if that is who you are, young man, why in the world would you have ever decided to put on a costume, call yourself the Pied Piper, and embark on a life of crime using weaponized musical instruments?

Pied Piper: Because someone had to even the score.

Hugo Strange: What do you mean, even the score? You had life handed to you on a silver platter. You grew up in a palatial mansion, with servants to tend to your every need. You had the best education money could buy, you traveled all around the world, and you were set to inherit one of the largest fortunes in the country. What injustice could a pampered prince like you possibly have faced?

Pied Piper: None, sir. I’m not evening the score for myself. I’m evening it for the poor, the downtrodden, the people who through no fault of their own are denied the opportunity to even know that they’ll have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. My parents and people like them live in scandalous luxury that they didn’t even earn, and they have the nerve to say that the poor are lazy and selfish! It’s unjust and unfair, and yet everyone turns a blind eye! I...I had to do something!

Hugo Strange: (A bit taken aback) I must admit, young man, I was not expecting to hear a manifesto from someone of your background. (Pause) I take it that you don’t simply steal for kicks in the way that your file seems to suggest?

Pied Piper: Not often. Usually, I take the money from people who won’t even notice it’s gone and give it to people who really need it.

Hugo Strange: So you think of yourself as some sort of Robin Hood, then? Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?

Pied Piper: I wouldn’t have thought to put in those specific terms, but...I suppose I do, yes.

Hugo Strange: Why not just give away your own money, Mr. Rathaway? Certainly you have access to more than enough of it.

Pied Piper: (Laughs quietly) I tried that once. When my parents found out, it became part of the argument that got me disowned, disinherited, and thrown off of their estate without a dollar to my name.

Hugo Strange: Your parents disowned you?��

Pied Piper: Yes. They even paid the FBI to give me the identity of Henry Darrow just so I could never be traced back to them. If the Flash and that brilliant young reporter hadn’t stumbled onto the connection between me and my parents somehow, Hartley Rathaway probably would have been effectively erased from existence.

Hugo Strange: That does at least explain why your file gives you two entirely separate names and histories. I admit that that had been puzzling me, Mr. Rathaway.

Pied Piper: Well, now you know. (Pause) How did I end up in Arkham Asylum, Doctor? Even if someone had become convinced that I was mentally ill, Breedmore Psychiatric Hospital would seem to be much more conveniently located.

Hugo Strange: It would be. In fact, there are any number of prisons and psychiatric facilities that would be more conveniently located to the area of the Twin Cities than Arkham Asylum...but through a series of judicial and political decisions to which I was not privy, somehow all of you “Rogues” were placed under my watch. (Pause) So, Mr. Rathaway, you went from being one of the wealthiest and most privileged people in the country to being homeless and penniless. I imagine that that was not an easy transition for you.

Pied Piper: No, it wasn’t. Although the panic didn’t kick in right away. It wasn’t until I used my sonic technology to steal forty thousand dollars from my parents’ company, and then gave the money away to people in need, that my anger subsided and it really hit me that I was impoverished. All I had left was my hypnotic flute and the silly costume I had made out of my mother’s nice shower curtains in order to disguise myself while I was stealing money from her company, and I was panicking. Which in hindsight is probably why I made the stupid decision to hypnotize a group of random crooks into becoming a sort of gang, told them that my name was the Pied Piper, and tried to become their leader. One of them probably would have ended up shooting me within a couple of days, but because my sonic abilities were quite unusual, the Flash showed up to arrest us before I got myself killed. They went to prison, but for some reason that was never adequately explained, I was released from the police station without even being booked.

Hugo Strange: How could that have happened, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: My parents’ money, of course. They hadn’t had the time to create a false identity for me yet, so I suspect that they simply bribed the police station into letting me go so that no one would know that the former heir to the Rathaway empire was now a common crook.

Hugo Strange: And what happened after that?

Pied Piper: I almost starved to death.

Hugo Strange: And what saved you?

Pied Piper: Well, I had sat down on a park bench and was sort of waiting to die when I suddenly came face-to-face with a pair of blue pixie shoes that were floating four feet off the ground. The pixie shoes were attached to a blonde kid in a garish leotard. He asked me if I was the kid with the magic flute, and when I said yes, he told me that he was the Trickster and invited me to stay with him in his apartment for a couple days. I agreed when he told me that he also had food. During the month I stayed with him, he gave me a crash course on how to survive on the streets...although most of the other Rogues insist that I must not have learned very much from it.

Hugo Strange: Why is that, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Because I still give away basically all the money that I steal. Most of it goes to the poor, and the rest of it goes to my parents, to pay them back for the money they spent on trying to mold me into someone I could never be. That way, they can stop complaining about all the money they wasted on me. (Pause) Captain Cold insists that if I had any sense, I would keep some of the money for myself, but why would I do that? I spent my early life in unimaginable luxury. It’s only fair that I go without to help the poor now.

Hugo Strange: So you’re martyring yourself for the sins of your parents?

Pied Piper: I’m not martyring myself. I’m just doing what needs to be done.

Hugo Strange: Sacrificing your own financial well-being for the sake of others is not healthy, Mr. Rathaway. With a philosophy like yours, I’m surprised that you’re even still alive. (Pause) Incidentally, how have you managed to survive multiple stints in prison? A skinny, sheltered ex-aristocrat like you would seem to be an obvious target.

Pied Piper: Which is why I don’t call attention to myself whilst incarcerated. You’d be surprised how effective keeping your head down and your mouth shut can be. (Pause) Well, that, and Captain Cold has made it pretty clear that if anyone messes with me, they’re also messing with him. And almost no one is willing to get on Captain Cold’s bad side.

Hugo Strange: So your status as one of the Rogues protects you?

Pied Piper: Yes, sir. (Pause) But if I really had to, I think I could survive without them. I may be a sheltered ex-aristocrat, but I’m also a master hypnotist. I didn’t take up the name Pied Piper for nothing, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: Yes, your file does go into great detail about the effectiveness of your hypnotic instruments. When you first arrived on the scene, there were even some people who thought that you might be the Pied Piper of the folktales, due not only to your powers but also the fact you seemed to appear and disappear almost at will, without ever really getting caught (Pause) Of course, from what you’ve told me, I can guess that the explanation for your remarkably infrequent imprisonments was due to your parents’ wealth, rather than to any magical powers.

Pied Piper: Those rumors were actually quite helpful. When people thought I might be magical, they put considerably less effort into tracking me, and that gave me a lot more freedom to do things like volunteering at homeless shelters and food pantries.

Hugo Strange: But you are not magical, Mr. Rathaway. You are only a man.

Pied Piper: I know that, Dr. Strange. If I had magical powers, I’d be a lot farther along in my goal of helping uplift the downtrodden than I am.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, that was not what I was trying to tell you. Wanting to help others is an admirable goal, but the methods which you are taking to pursue it are decidedly unhealthy. You are a human being with human needs, and you are discounting them all in your desperation to prove that you are worth loving. While I believe that you honestly want to help others, I also believe that there is a part of you that is still trying to earn the love which it sounds like you were denied as a child. You’re hoping that if you sacrifice enough, you will finally be accepted as worthy...but you are giving too much.

Pied Piper: Too much?

Hugo Strange: Yes, Mr. Rathaway. Too much. (Pause) Think of it this way. If you starve to death because you have no money to pay for food, you will no longer be around to feed anyone else...and by giving away all of the money you bring in, illicitly or otherwise, that is effectively what you are risking. And it’s certainly what you’re doing to yourself on an emotional level.

Pied Piper: (Quietly) It’s what I was taught to do, Dr. Strange. What I wanted wasn’t important. What I needed wasn’t even important. The only thing that was important was upholding the family name. My parents have always made it quite clear that their love for me was conditional on whether I would sacrifice what I was to be their idea of the perfect heir, and I tried. For eighteen years, I tried, but it was never enough. Not after I’d been born deaf.

Hugo Strange: Yes, your files mention that. Your files also mention that your deafness was cured thanks to a pair of highly advanced hearing aids, which were created by Dr. William Magnus. The operation cost millions of dollars, and it granted you far more than the normal range of hearing.

Pied Piper: 14 hertz to 55,000 hertz. I hear more sounds than a dog. (Pause) And all the nasty things that people whisper behind my back when they think I can’t hear.

Hugo Strange: Are you glad that you were given these hearing aids, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Very much so. Without them, I’d never have known what music sounded like. (Pause) But to be honest? If I had to choose between being deaf and knowing that my parents loved me, and being able to hear and knowing that it was entirely because my parents didn’t want the social embarrassment of having a disabled son, I’d choose the world of silence. And I hate silence.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you have spent your entire life sacrificing your own needs, either for the needs of others or for your parent’s desire for a so-called ‘perfect’ heir. That is why the request I am going to make of you will be so difficult. (Pause) Between now and our next session, I want you to write down something that you really want to do. Not something you think you should want to do; something that you actually want to do.

Pied Piper: But-

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you will never be able to achieve healing until you recognize that your wants and needs are just as valid as anyone else’s. You will not be able to care for others in a healthy way until you learn to care for yourself.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #pied piper #flash comics #batman comics #fanfic

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doloresdraws · 3 years ago

Photo

I am slowly filling this OC question meme with all my WoD characters and it is a lot of fun, but also very exhausting.

Here is your chance to get to know more about Stanley, my sewer goblin Nosferatu boy ❤ ❤ ❤

❤ There is also a video process of this painting on my Youtube channel ❤

1) Stanley rarely gets angry, when he is supposed to be angry he instead get anxious and either starts to talk nonsense or stays silent.

2) He finds the idea lovely, but he knows that he will never meet anyone he could call a soulmate

3) More than being a pet peeve it just really makes him uncomfortable: when people are loudly shouting at him or at someone else.

4) He often thinks about his early childhood before he was seprated from his baby sister.

5) Probably the time he spent in the hospital before he found out about the Nosferatu and became their ghoul. Before that incident, he was feeling safe, taken care of and loved having a routine, knowing the place well and always looked forward to visits from his sister.

6) When he was separated from his sister and put into different foster homes.

7) He wouldn’t even go to a bar, too many people and too loud for his taste.

8) He was pretty badly beaten up when he was living on the street, but nothing was ever broken. After the Embrace he made Maks (his Sire) pretty unhappy a few times which resulted in him getting a few broken ribs. He tries to stay away from danger, but sometimes it doesn’t work out.

9) He would like to forget finding a dead woman’s body in the sewers.

10) His happiest memory is playing peek-a-boo with his sister in the driveway, he was oblivious about the world and his future. Life was good at that moment.

11) No, he doesn’t. His type is everyone who would treat him nice and made him feel safe :) He currently has a woman he got kinda attached to, only because she was nice to him when he accidentally bumped into her on the street. He had a hoodie over his face and it was dark. She thought he was a homeless kid. She helped him gather all of the small trinkets he dropped in the collision and he was captivated by her kindness, so he followed her home XD

12) Many – he has a collection of various random things he found in the sewers, he collects everything that catches his attention – mainly some personal things like rings, bracelettes, scrunchies, he even found a photo album. He remembers the exact place he found each of his possessions and he likes to imagine stories for each item. He keeps bracelet of the dead woman in case he would one day found out her identity and could return it to her family.

13+14) He has no tattoos or piercings, only way too many fangs in his small mouth that pierce his lips and cheeks XD

15) His dream house would be somewhere where he would be frozen in time as a happy child together with his sister.

16) You would not expect to find out that he is actually not a child, but a grown man, his small and frail stature is deceiving.

17) He has always good intentions with gifts, but he is not the best at choosing gifts XD He misjudges other people’s interest in smelly, sewer treasures XD

18) He knows he has a great memory, but because it has brought him so much trouble, both internal and external, he isn’t really proud or even happy he has an eidetic memory.

19) A stranger would describe him as a weird, smelly kid who talks too fast XD

20) Someone who spent more time around him and got to know him more (Mateusz) would describe him as a scared, smol man who might look like he can’t even count to ten but is actually very clever, but let others walk all over him because he is afraid of conflict.

21) He, himself is a walking insecurity :) But his biggest one is to not be understood when talking as he normally talks pretty fast, but when he is nervous and considering how many fangs he has it is sometimes hard for him to make sense and then he gets even more agitated as he is worried he will convey the message in a wrong way.

22) Physical: dexterity, non-physical: wits

23) Depends on the nature of the lie, most likely he would just nod and tried to understand the reason why he was lied to.

24) He has fond memories of the summer as when he was on the street, summer nights were warm and he didn’t have to worry about freezing to death. Aside this he is indifferent to the weather.

25) From romantic point of view he never had anyone he could say these words to, in general terms he only said I love you to his sister. He wouldn’t have a problem saying it first, but as a Nossie he knows that chances of him finding someone who would even want to spend time with him are almost none, so he will probably never say it to anyone else.

26) His only issue with openly sharing his worries is his fear of not being believed or worse be punished, so it depends on the person. If he knows that the person won’t get angry at him, he will share his worries.

27) No, he never saw anyone die. But the dead woman in the sewers was the first dead body he saw and he can’t erase the empty look on her face, it haunts him every night. He feels sad for her, being left there nameless, alone, dumped like trash. She surely had family somewhere and maybe they are still looking for her to this day…just like his sister is looking for him…

28) He totally is ticklish, he is very sensitive to touch, mainly because he is not used to be touched at the first place.

29) Very low pain tolerance, he hates being in physical pain and he knows that he now can heal pretty much everything, but it doesn’t take away the fact that he would much rather avoid getting hurt in the first place.

30) He wishes he would have been brave enough to say no to some of the things he is asked to do.

31) He isn’t a particularly messy eater, he mainly feeds on rats, not because of the guilt, but because he thinks that feeding from mortals is very stressful and scary ordeal.

32) Most unloved: when he got stuck obfuscated in the same room as the woman he followed home and unfortunately had to watch her and her date being intimate with each other. Not only he felt innapropriate, but it made him feel so lonely and sad that he never in his life felt so safe with someone to share such closeness and now he never will.

33) When he was reunited with his sister after years apart. Despite her being the younger sibling she basically took care for him and did everything she could to get his mental health problems under control.

34) He would most likely hate to lose touch as he likes to touch things XD On the other hand he would gladly lost hearing, so he could no longer spy on people :D

35) He likes small talk, because it feels relaxing and he doesn’t have to worry about saying too much.

36) He would have asked Maks if he ever cared about him as a person or if he just considered him a tool, a good asset to have because of his memory skills.

37) To the past, to his early childhood to spend more time as a naive child with the person he cares the most in the world.

38) positive: his sister – she made him feel loved and made him feel like he mattered, the staff and other patients in the hospital – they made him feel safe, cared for and not alone, negative: various people he met while he was on the street, his foster families, and to an extent his biological parents though he didn’t meet with them after.

39) Depends, in the hospital he liked being surrounded by people because they were nice and he felt safe with them, as a Nossie he prefers to be alone because the other Kindred most often than not scare him. He likes to spend time with Jamie (the ghoul that is living in the sewers with them) because of her child-like personality, she seems harmless and he likes that.

40) The scary thing that he had seen in one part of the tunnels one night, nobody believes him but he is pretty sure there is something terriyfing livin there. Aside this probably his Sire Maks, but he had heard that he met Final death.. apparently by Mateusz’s hands of all people…

#my art #clan nosferatu #oc Stanley #vamily #doloresdrawsocs #wod #World Of Darkness #vtm #vtr #vampire the requiem #vampire the masquerade #digital portait #digital painting #Vampire Art #chronicles of darkness #nossies

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Escape Part 3:

This is part 3 of the "Escape" post I wrote. @whump-a-la-mode wrote a wonderful part 2. Which is here. Part 1 is here.

Quick fornote, this is not edited. I may look it over eventually, but beaware of mistakes and incorrect grammar. Perhaps a lot of it. Also, my creativity levels right now are like a piece of dynamite going down a waterfall, exploding, and the particles being shipped to a rocket and then discarded into space to be later burnt up by the sun.

Warnings: blood, vomit, collared whumpee, confused whumpee, exhaustion, hospital setting, needles/syringes, restrained whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, soundproof room, torture (head trauma, broken bones, beating), talk of death, referring to one as trash, fake drugs

Hero woke with a start, immediately digging her fists in the familiar mattress. She vaguely felt an odd throb right below her ribcage. Hero thought hard. She didn't recently hurt herself. Unless, of course, she cracked a rib when Villain knocked her down in the elevator. That impudent, little-

Something shifted on her lap. Hero tensed before reaching above her to flick a light on.

The sight below her made her heart skip a beat. Villain was huddled against her, clutching onto her gray t-shirt with ferocity- however weak- as if he would die otherwise. Hmph, making the little ignorant chicken did whole-heartedly believe that her attire was the only way to alleviate his suffering.

But something was wrong. Villain's face was a pallette of blood, spit, vomit. He coughed and buried his face deeper into her stomach. Quizzically, Hero looked all over him. His hands looked like he just had a punching match the plaster- the broken plaster on the wall behind him confirmed that assumption.

"Villain," Hero breathed and ran her hand over his quivering back.

A strangled whimper was the only response.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, noting his cut up heel- he wasn't allowed laces, and refused to sleep in the velcro shoes that he was granted- and the blooming flower of a bruise that erupted in the center of his forehead. Not to mention the blood, all the creamy velvet blood...

"N-no," Villain stuttered finally.

"Then get off of me." Hero proceeded to push the villain away from her, but he already did the work, spiraling onto the ground with a thump.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" Hero asked, crouching next to her foe.

"Not wrong with me," Villaim mumured. Hero scoffed. Yeah, no, Villain was perfectly healthy. He wasn't covered in blood and puke, and he definitely wasn't shaking in exhaustion.

"Sure," Hero grinned sloppily and started to take in Villain's figure. He was obviously weakened, but he was still strong. Oh so strong. His biceps were flexed- actually his whole arm was flexed, but Hero knew it was more reflexive than a boyish show-off. Even his back moved around as he breathed, muscles contracting to their maximum strength. Hero knew that he would have abs under the sweaty shirt. A hum of approval, the Villain Containment Practice really did wonders.

Yet amidst the undeniable cords of muscles, the body in front of her was truly exhausted, starved, and dehydrated. Hero doubted he would be to move, especially with the hidden injury.

It hurt Hero to watch his hand tentatively brush the collar around his neck, but it stung when it flopped back down. Maybe taking away his breakfast privileges was too much.

And perhaps snatching away his lunch, but that was all. He still had dinner, and snacks-

No, those were also taken away. Cruelly erased from his schedule and replaced with more reps. More lessons, more lectures...

The villain groaned and tried to shuffle away as spontaneously aware that Hero was in his vicinity.

"Wha' ya gonna do?" Villain slurred. His dull eyes glanced over to the plastic cup. "Gimme," he whispered.

"Manners," Hero began to warn, but stopped. Chastising such a pale prisoner would do more bad than good. She could just imagine a relaspe. Villain was doing... mediocre, but not terrible. Though the only points he received were from the continous physical exercises he performed daily.

So Hero stood up, clenching her teeth as her rib flared up again, and sauntered over to the kitchenette. She grabbed a new cup and filled it up with city water. Hero scowled- she hated this water. Once she lived in the country... the change of taste in the water was one of a kind.

Hero returned with the cup and handed it to Villain, but he immediately dropped it. Water spilled everywhere. Hero could see his skin turn red and tears spike in his eyes.

"Aww come-" Hero began, but stopped when she noticed Villain turned his head into the crook of his elbow. Hero sighed and went back for another cup.

She returned and propped Villain's limp head up. She tilted it back and ran her thumb over his lips, gently prying the shriveled muscles open. Villain, however tired, tried to refuse, glaring daggers at Hero.

"Villain," Hero growled. Villain tensed, so Hero rubbed circles on his neck. Comfort was not her greatest gift, but Villain relaxed regardless.

"You wanted water earlier," she reminded him, putting the cup to his lips. After a brief moment of hesitation, Villain greedily opened his lips and started gulping the water down.

"Slow down," Hero very rudely removed the much wanted cup from Villain. "Time for you to go to the infirmary."

"No!" Villain yelled and tried to push away from his nemesis. They may run into Nosey. What if they tried to kill Hero again? Or worse, Villain?

The trek down to the infirmary was beyond slow. Even Villain in his groggy state recognized that. The corriders and dorms all blended together into one gigantic smoothie. They didn't matter, only not running into Nosey mattered.

Hero carried him in a bridal carry. Though lithe and slender, she was strong. Very strong. Villain realized this with a pang of fear. She could easily dominate him and hurt him.

Especially if she found out that Villain saved her.

When she found out. Villain could only physically make it non-lethal and take away the majority of her pain. It still would scar and be painful to an extent, but he saved her.

He saved her.

"Using your powers is never the answer," Villain mumbled to himself. "Call the heros..."

"What's that?" Hero asked.

Villain shut up, right then and there.

"Well, okay. Here we are," Hero pushed open the door to the infirmary with her foot. The smell of disinfectant and medicine hit Villain's nose, making him want to throw up all over again.

"Hero." A deep voice. Not Nosey. He was safe, for now.

"Doctor. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Why is his collar still on?"

"Safety. I don't know. He was collapsed on top of me and throwing up."

"Maybe food poisoning. Lay him on-"

"He hasn't eaten in days, Doc."

Villain felt knew hands tenderly dabbing around the collar.

"Do you have keys for this, Hero?"

"Yeah, back pocket. Here." Hero sat Villain on the ground, using her foot to keep him upright.

"Hero?" Villain slurred. His tongue was too thick, his brain too tired to completely make sense of the dire situation. He limply rested his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes.

Healing never was this taxing.

Villain felt his head fall back, so he jerked back upwards into a strangers arms.

"Hey, Villain," the same deep voice cooed, like a baritone. Deep and eneveloping.

"Villain." Hero was behind him, but Villain hardly recognized it. He felt like he was falling into a dark abyss.

"Bring him to a bed," the doctor ordered. Villain, whisked away from the comforting promise of sleep, was rushed back into the present. He jerked and cried out, fighting against the arms that held him.

He was going to be punished. Punished for his negligence. Punished for his powers.

"Villain," Hero snarled. Her voice was taut with exasperation. "We are trying to help you."

"No!" Villain cried out, breaking free of the hero and the doctor. Blindly he scrambled away, knocking over tables. Liquids spilled everywhere. Glass cut into his palms, but he didn't care. Not when he was going to be punished.

"Twenty more laps Villain."

"Add more weight, 200 pounds isn't enough."

"I don't care. Another sit-up. With weights."

"Seven minute plank. Let's go."

All Nosey's voices. The seagull that swooped down and took his strength away, leaving him a parched rasion with only enough food to keep his body minimally functioning.

He couldn't. He couldn't be punished. He helped, he helped. Yet, Villain couldn't convince himself that was indeed the truth.

Heros never cared about the truth. That was evident when they never took the time to remove him from this jail when he was innocent. Yes, he landed the homeless man in the hospital, but it was self-defense.

Villain plummeted into a skinny nurse, laying her flat on the ground with a bleeding head. Again, not his fault. She had a horrendous looking needle.

"Villain!" Hero called out and tackled him to the ground, pining him by the wrists and keeping his torso down with a well-placed knee.

Villain threw himself upwards, trying in desperation to remove himself from Hero's grasp.

"We are going to have to sedate you if you keep this up," Hero warned. Villain froze. He couldn't unwillingly go unconscious or he would never recover from the horrors inflicted upon him. Heck, he might never wake up. The creaks in his bones, the dull ache throughout his overexerted muscles, the incessant headache- they all reminded him of his predicament.

"There we go now." Hero removed her knee and scooped Villain up, laying him on a hard hospital bed.

The doctor came around, eyeing the Villain's hands.

"Please restrain him," the doctor said and quickly walked away to grab who knows what.

Hero took the liberty to roughly shove Villain's hands into cuffs. The cuffs surrounded his hand like Elsa's cuffs in the movie Frozen. They blocked any and all chances of escape.

Escape. The once motivating words was now a nightmare.

Hero then worked to place a leather strap around his throat. Villain didn't even notice that the previous collar was removed. Now looking through the mess he made, Villain saw the collar strewn on the ground.

Another strap was placed around his torso. Hero tightened it one notch too tight, pushing his abs in. Villain groaned and glared, but it lacked intent.

Finally his ankles were attached to the bed, each dangling off the side uncomfortably.

"Okay. Good," the doctor chuckled before reappearing at Villain's side. "Let's start the exam."

"You intolerable little butthead," Nosey drawled, tossing Villain into the white room like a piece of trash. "First off completely failing tests like a kindergartener; second, being a prat and faking injuries which just led to you being punished; and third? Well, that hospital trampede was really necessary, wasn't it?"

"And what are you gonna do?" Villain retorted. "Wave your little middle finger at me and yell all your stupid insults? Honestly, brainiac, you sound like a dying cat."

Of course, Villain did not say any of this. He just thought it, an undying wish that threatened to bounce off his tongue.

"No answer?" Nosey asked, leaning against an ivory wall. Villain wondered if it was once pure white, but all the blood spillage stained it.

Now that wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Nope," Villain replied, completely compliant.

"You know I love the little stunt you played with healing dear Miss Hero," Nosey stalked over to the villain. "But my employer does not."

Villain vividly remembered the way Nosey's face paled when they laid eyes on Hero. And then he also definitely remembered the way Nosey snarled at him- wild and feral, ready to maim and kill.

"Wanna know how much killing her depended on my livelihood? Heck, I would've made thousands and then be promoted to her position. My employer, Superhero, is now furious at me. Hero, that goody two shoes and her 'redeemed the villains' morals are quite old-schooled. Don't you think? We need a more... let's say modern approach to dealing with you monsters." Nosey's black pointed boot pressed against Villain's cheek before it slashed down with such force that it should've knocked Villain out.

But, stupid enhanced healing powers delegated by the doctor always made the promise of black bliss an impossibility.

But the enhancement was temporary. Just enough to replenish Villain's utter exhaustion.

Nosey's fingers grasped onto Villain next finding a perfect pressure point on his throat. Villain squealed, his neck was still bruised and tender from the collar.

"Do you want to know what it feels like to suffocate? Villain? Hmm?" Nosey spoke quickly, not even giving Villain a chance to shake- or nod, if Villain wanted to go that route- before they started to press right against Villain's trachea.

"Lack of air. Painfully at first, but the moment you black out. The moment that death is almost upon you is precious," Nosey spoke through clenched teeth as excitement and adrenaline overtook him. Villain, on the other hand, was overtaken by fear as he wiggled around like a frying worm.

Almost as suddenly as the hand was placed, it was removed. Villain blinked away the black blotches and took gulping breaths.

"Pathetic," Nosey growled and grabbed the back of Villain's neck, picking him up, and ramming him against the wall. An volcano of stars erupted in Villain's vision as the room tilted.

Nosey smacked him against the wall like that a couple more times before grabbing onto his wrist and stepping down. A crack and a scream echoed throughout the soundproof room like dynamite.

"Think you are done. Do you think that you are done!" Nosey laughed wickedly as they discarded the villain on the ground.

Then the beating took place. Kicks and rabbit chops battered Villain's body until he couldn't even move to defend himself. Unconsciousness loomed at his vision, but each new flare of pain brought him back to the waking world.

His broken arm loosely hung, a bone popping out of the skin, as his body convulsed. But Nosey wasn't done. No, they went over to the wall and grabbed a wooden bat and began to hit Villain until his ribs began to break. One crack after the other, after the other-

Nosey flopped down on the ground next to Villain, carefully cradling their own head with their left hand as their right picked Villain's up.

"Do you see that window Villain?" Nosey asked. "It leads right out into the city. We are even on the first story. An easy escape if you weren't so weak." Nosey wrapped their arm around Villain's heaving shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "But that's okay. You can stay with me," Nosey chuckled and grabbed Villain's chin, prying his mouth open. The villain gurgled and spat in response, but allowed Nosey to keep him in that hold.

Nosey reached into their back pocket and revealed a syringe.

"Power suppressant. Don't worry, I know your weakness. Can't be drugged or you will die. Blah blah blah. Hero's mind reading powers are good for one thing at least. But this-" Nosey stroked the clear syringe and whistled. "-is a masterpiece."

Villain tried to remove his throbbing head, but Nosey's grib was too strong.

"Can't have you dying on me when we are having so much fun," Nosey wrapped Villain into a close hug as they plunged the needle into his neck.

"Enjoy your stay," Nosey chuckled before leaving the room.

Before leaving Villain, alone and in pain, to deal with himself.

#villain whumpee #hero whumper #hero whumpee #in a way #continuation #escape #part 3 #torture #broken bones #exhausted whumpee #poor villain #tw needles

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onecanonlife · 4 years ago

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careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,402

Chapter Warnings: swearing, referenced (temporary) character death, slight manipulation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur tours the stronghold, meets DreamXD, and watches Tommy and Techno move a few very reluctant inches closer to reconciliation.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

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Chapter Fourteen: wipe the dirt off of your hands (ii)

Phil and Technoblade found the server’s stronghold. Because of course they did. Nevermind that the End is closed off here, the one rule of this server that hasn’t been broken and flaunted in front of everyone’s faces. The one rule that might actually sort of mean something. But evidently it doesn’t mean enough, because Phil and Techno not only found the stronghold, but decided to use it for a secret anarchy base.

When he voices all of this aloud, Phil just shrugs.

“Techno won me over to the whole anarchy thing, a bit,” he says, completely unrepentant. “We wanted a base, and the stronghold was literally right there. Not like anyone else was using it.”

“I really feel like that’s not the point,” Ranboo says weakly. He understands the significance, apparently. “Phil, even I know what a stronghold is.”

“Okay, it’s not nearly as big of a deal as you two are making it out to be,” Phil says, even though he is wrong, completely dead-wrong. “Just, c’mon, I’ll show you how we get there.” He starts walking, heading for the door, and he and Ranboo are given no choice but to follow. “We found an old library in it, lots of books in surprisingly good condition, considering. I haven’t even begun to go through them all. I’m thinking if it’s information on ancient, slightly eldritch beings we’re looking for, that’s our best bet in finding anything.”

“Right,” he says. “Sure. Why not?” He hopes Phil can hear the utter frustration in his voice. The smirk directed his way tells him that Phil did, indeed, hear it. Bastard.

But there’s nothing to do but go with him, at this point. It’s not like he’s going to pass up the chance to see one of these; he’s been in strongholds before, of course, but this feels like it holds more significance, somehow, on a server where the End is forbidden to all. Phil leads them through a convoluted series of passages, hitting buttons that reveal secret doors, and there’s a long hallway of ice, and then more buttons, and the air gets cooler and cooler, musty and still. Old. Tense. Like the rock itself is waiting.

And then, Phil opens up one final door, and a different hallway greets them. One crafted with intent, not carved carelessly out of stone. Bricks placed purposefully, rough though the detailing now is, and the air is stale here, and strangely damp. They’re underwater, then, and he casts Phil a glance. He seems unconcerned, and Wilbur chooses to believe that means that the roof won’t cave in under the pressure of the ocean above.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in one of these,” Ranboo says. His voice is hushed, quiet, almost awestruck.

“It’s not much,” Phil says with a shrug. “Normally wouldn’t bother with it, in a server like this, but like I said, Techno and I wanted a base, and it happened to be close. Not much of use here, but there is a library. More cobwebs than books by now, but a lot of what’s left seems legible, at least. I haven’t gone through most of it. Here, this way.”

Phil keeps walking, and for a moment, Ranboo doesn’t follow. He looks a bit taken aback, perhaps by Phil’s casual attitude toward a place that in any other circumstance, to any other person, might be something approaching sacred.

Wilbur sighs.

“Phil’s just like that,” he murmurs. “Plus, he’s been on dozens of servers. Seen dozens of these. And he’s ancient, too, so there’s that.” He goes along after Phil, and Ranboo, after a second of hesitation, hurries to catch up with him.

“How ancient are we talking here?” he asks.

Wilbur feels his lips twitch upward. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked for the exact number,” he says. “Centuries, at least. Maybe a few millennia. No one really quite knows what Phil is. I’m not sure he knows himself.” He shrugs. “Growing up, he was always just our dad. That was enough.”

“Oh.” Ranboo chews on that for a moment, and then nods. “Okay then. That actually explains a couple of things.”

He hums. “How did you come to live by him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, well, it was after—you know about Doomsday, right? I mean—”

(destruction raining from the sky and the terrifying shriek of withers and his home is gone the history is gone and Friend, Friend is gone, his dearest Friend and Phil knew, he knew, he knew and he did it anyway but only a few minutes later the memory is gone because he does not want to remember this and it is a blessing, being able to forget, because what use is carrying pain that he can do nothing about, what use is holding it close and letting it make a monster of him because even dead he cannot manage to ask for help must keep up the facade but at least let it be a happy one)

(and yet looking back on it, looking back on it now, he feels barely any anger at all. like son, like father, after all)

He smiles tightly. “I know about Doomsday,” he agrees, and then tilts his head. “That’s right, you were—you were living in L’Manberg at the time, weren’t you? I—Ghostbur saw you there.”

“Yeah, I lived there,” Ranboo says. “Right up until it turned into a crater, I guess. But, um, after all of that, Phil knew that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so—I don’t know, I guess he felt bad for me or something? He invited me to stay up here with him and Techno, and I guess I never really left.”

That’s such a uniquely Phil thing to do. Destroy a country, then pick up one of the kids he rendered homeless. Wilbur can imagine exactly how that went.

“Well, I hope you know that you’re not likely to be rid of him now,” he says, and then the two of them step around the corner, and right across the way, there is an open doorway, and even from here, he can see the rows upon rows of bookshelves, some of them half-empty and all of them covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. He glances at Ranboo one last time, and then the two of them step into the room.

He is not one for claustrophobia,

(was not, though now tight spaces and dark rooms remind him of one place and one place only)

but the room feels close, crowded, the shelves towering over him, and even over Ranboo, who has more than a foot of height on him, tall and lanky and half-ender as he is. And more than that, the room feels old, feels weighty, moreso even than the rest of the stronghold, because here are books that must have been written hundreds of years ago, before the server passed into Dream’s hands, that have not been touched since, that have been left to gather dust and mold in an ancient ruin under the sea. In these books are the words of people who came years before him, their words reaching out to grasp the long arm of the future, and it is nothing that he has not seen before, but he never gets used to it. He is no scholar, really, no Technoblade, but he can appreciate this for what it is, can appreciate the history here, the circle that never ends.

(he has always fancied himself as part of a story, has always been able to look outside of himself to see what role the history books will have him play. moments like this only make him more aware of it, more aware that someday, he will be long in the ground and only his words will live on, his words and the words of others, a legacy, a garden growing and fed on the dust that was once him)

(it should already be so. stories are not supposed to be picked up after the last thread is snipped and yet here he is, and the whole narrative has been thrown into disarray)

Phil’s head peers out around one of the shelves.

“Took you long enough,” he says. “We can start anywhere, I suppose. I didn’t get around to cataloging any of this shit, so your guess is as good as mine as to where the important stuff is.”

“Great,” Ranboo says, sounding thoroughly unenthusiastic. “I love having absolutely no idea what we’re looking for.”

“We have to start somewhere,” he says, though looking at the shelves around them, he thinks that Ranboo might have a point. But nonetheless, he grabs a random book off the nearest shelf and opens it, frowning at the mold that dots the pages. But as Phil said, it’s legible, and his eyes scan over faded words, printed in an older dialect that’s just barely understandable.

They split up, each taking a different section. But it only takes a few hours for Wilbur to get frustrated. He’s more patient than this, normally, unless that’s another aspect of himself that he lost somewhere along the line. But he thinks he’s justified—perhaps under normal circumstances, they would have all the time in the world to find the information they need. In normal circumstances, a strategy like this would work. But they don’t have that kind of time. And they especially don’t have that kind of time to search for knowledge that may not even be here at all.

He snaps the book he’s leafing through shut and stands.

“I’m stretching my legs,” he calls, and doesn’t wait for an answer before striding out of the room. Too late, he remembers that they’re still underground, underwater, and the air outside of the library is barely any fresher than the air inside, which does not improve his mood. But a walk might help clear his head, so a walk is what he takes, wandering the corridors as he did in the castle earlier, that same restlessness returning.

It all comes down to a feeling of helplessness, in the end, of powerlessness. He was powerless to stop the Egg. Powerless to save Techno, and then later, powerless to help him. And he is powerless now, skimming through century-old books with barely a hope of a payoff. And yet, it’s all he can do, is the best plan they have, and how is it possible that this is the best plan they have?

He used to be good at this. He has been presenting himself as good at this, pulled on his old general’s strength to present confidence to the others, surety. And yet, here they are, and it’s too soon to give up, he knows, but it’s been a few hours and they have found nothing, and he can’t help but feel like they’re going to continue to find nothing.

You are nothing, and you may as well give it up, give in, throw away yourself for a chance of saving what little you have not already lost, something whispers, and it is not him, and there is translucent red lining the edges of his vision, for if you pass up this chance, who do you have to blame but yourself?

“Shut up,” he mutters. “Shut the fuck up. You’re thousands of chunks away, shut up.”

Distance is no matter to one such as I, and you ought to know better than to hope for it, it says. You ought to know better than to hope for a great many things. Powerless as you are, why not take into your hands the only choice you have left to you, take back your peace and save your brother, save them all from the encroaching choke, save them all and yourself most of—

He steps into another room, and the voice abruptly stops, leaving his head blessedly silent. He catches himself holding his breath, and he releases it all at once.

And then realizes what he’s seeing. It’s a meeting room, clearly, decorated far beyond what an untouched stronghold would look like, and this has Phil’s interior design choices stamped all over it, but—

They’re using the End Portal as a table.

Because that is undoubtedly the End Portal. Even if he hadn’t seen one before, once or twice, on different servers, he would be able to recognize the blocks for what they are: something other, something that belongs to a different place entirely. They fill the room with a low, buzzing hum, and underneath that, there is a melody hovering just beyond his perception, a melody that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. He hums, trying to match the notes, and finds that he can’t, that he always lands above or below no matter what pitch he vocalizes. And yet, even still, there is something about it that is eerily comforting.

Perhaps it is simply the way the Egg fell silent as soon as he stepped inside. He appreciates that.

But still. They’re using it as a table.

“Do you like the décor?” Phil asks, amusement clear in his tone. Wilbur doesn’t turn to look at him, but Phil comes up beside him soon enough, and Ranboo trails behind, staring at the portal with wide eyes.

“Is nothing sacred to you?” he asks, and the teasing note comes out naturally.

“Eh,” Phil says, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “You know how it is.”

“I know what that is,” Ranboo says, sounding far, far away. “I know—I know this, I—why do I—?”

(a question: if he could sense the music, human and just barely void-touched as he is, then what must it sound like to one who has the End itself in his veins?)

Ranboo takes one step forward, and then another, until he’s standing right next to the portal-table. One hand hovers above it, and he hesitates before placing it down. Wilbur glances to Phil, wondering if this is a thing they should be stopping, but Phil is staring at Ranboo, head tilted and eyes slightly narrow.

“Have you never seen one of these before?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Ranboo says, still distant. “Maybe? I don’t think I remember. But I—I don’t know where I come from, but this feels like—”

“Well, it is an End Portal,” Phil agrees. “I wasn’t sure if it was still functional, but I guess that answers that question. You’re probably sensing something from it that we’re not picking up on, with you being half-ender and all.”

“I guess—”

“Why wouldn’t it be functional?” Wilbur interrupts. Maybe that’s not what he should’ve gotten out of that, but he’s satisfied that this is an enderman thing, not something to be concerned over. But that offhand remark, said in that infuriatingly casual way that Phil so often has, draws his attention, because he’s never heard of a non-functional End Portal before. He didn’t think that such a thing was possible; everyone knows that portals are the one sure fixture of almost every server, unable to be tampered with or destroyed by any means.

“Oh, that.” Phil laughs. “There’s an interesting story there, actually. When Techno and I first came through here, we—”

But Phil gets cut off.

Wilbur senses it before he sees that anything is changed: the pressure in the room shifts, suddenly, becoming greater, more. All the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and the next breath he takes, he gets a lungful of ozone, sharp and electric. He coughs, and finds that the noise falls strangely flat, and then there is someone hovering over the portal-table. Not standing. Hovering, a good six inches from the table’s surface.

Ranboo stumbles back, and Phil takes several strides forward, arms outstretched as if to shield them both. His cloak twitches, though his wings do not spread.

Wilbur’s not sure what he’s looking at.

They are a person, he thinks. At least, they are person-shaped, though it is somewhat difficult to tell; most of their body is covered in a long green cloak, one that drifts around them despite the stillness of the air. They have no visible feet, and their hands are hidden, if they have them. But under their hood, there is nothing but shadows, and those shadows do not seem to fall across a face. Instead, it is as though they are made of void, black and cold, and he finds himself leaning in, straining to see if there is anything past that, and the hood twitches in his direction and he gets a glimpse of

(twin halos circling circling like a tear in the world and a tear in the void a tear in the nothing and the everything and a circle half filled in and half open and you know something in you knows)

He freezes. His spine locks up. They do not have eyes but they are looking at him, and the only way to describe the feeling is prey studied by a predator. The Egg didn’t make him feel like this. Even Dream didn’t make him feel like this.

(or he did, but it was tainted by darkness, tainted by corruption, a predator studying prey if the predator was malicious rather than just an animal, acting on cruel whim rather than nature and instinct. this is something different. this is something vaster. this is the regard of a)

“The End is closed,” the newcomer says, and Wilbur stiffens further, because their voice echoes and vibrates and buzzes in his skull, but underneath that, underneath all the white noise, the voice sounds like Dream. But that cannot possibly be right. This—person, whatever they are, they are not human, but they are not the same as Dream, do not give off the same impression of oozing corruption, of a black pit at the core, sucking in all light to be snuffed out, stamped upon.

“We weren’t going to the End, mate,” Phil says, calm. “Just talking. Not against the rules to talk, is it?”

“The End is closed,” they repeat, their voice grating and twisting and pulling at the reality around them. Wilbur feels a headache begin to form behind his eyes, a dull throbbing.

“Right, one trick pony, you are,” Phil mutters, and then glances over his shoulder. “This is what I was about to tell you about. Seems there’s someone to enforce the End rule here. They almost took away the portal entirely before Techno and I swore we weren’t gonna use it. Nothing much to worry about, I don’t think. Look,” he tacks on, turning back to them, “we were really just having a chat. Don’t need someone looking over our shoulders for it.”

The hood of the cloak moves again in what might, possibly, be considered a head tilt.

“You may not open the way to the End,” they say. “Not even for his sake.” A hand snakes out of the folds of the cloak, gloved in black, and makes a quick gesture in Ranboo’s direction. Wilbur blinks, hard; the motion is difficult to track, and it’s as if they slice open the very air itself just by moving.

Phil scoffs. “Is that what this is about?” he asks. “Mate. He’s an enderman hybrid, he can’t help but be drawn to it. But he’s not stupid enough to try and go through. You’re not needed here. Promise.”

Ranboo nods in agreement, head bobbing rapidly as he makes a few noises of agreement. Wilbur might be amused by it, if it weren’t for the fact that every inch of his skin feels like a live wire, being in the same room as this thing. He’s not sure why Phil is being so nonchalant about this, as if this is normal. This isn’t normal. Or perhaps he’s the strange one, is overreacting to something that is undoubtedly odd but no reason to worry, but he doesn’t think so. He really, really doesn’t think so.

They drift a few inches back, almost absently.

“He watches from behind your eyes,” they say. “He above all others must not be allowed access. You will forgive my insistence.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Phil asks, and Wilbur wants to echo his confusion, except the Egg was in his head not even ten minutes ago, and he has a sneaking suspicion as to what they might be referring to. The Egg was in his head, but they are not looking at him, he’s sure, because when they were looking at him, he could feel it, just as he could feel Dream’s gaze sliding across him like the touch of a razor and yet not like that at all. And Ranboo has tensed, so perhaps this is directed at him, but Wilbur pushes that aside and steps forward, evading Phil’s outstretched arm, because if no one else is going to ask the questions he wants answered, then he will.

“What the fuck are you?” he says, blunt. Perhaps it’s not the wisest move, but he’s tired and irritated, and when Phil goes to grab his shoulder, he shrugs him off. “No, I’m not—stop that, I’m done with things yanking on my chain. This guy wants to appear in front of us and be all cryptic and shit, I’m not having that. Not today. We don’t have time for this. So what the fuck are you?”

For a moment, they go silent. His breathing is loud in his own ears.

(he’s not sure why he’s stuck on this, not sure why he’s stuck on them, for he has tangled with gods and monsters and this being should be no different, really, from what he has dealt with over the past few weeks, should be better, even, since it seems that they are not here to try to kill him or his family, but he looks at them and sees beyond them, sees a break in the world and crack in the code and it is like and not like anything else he has seen before and perhaps they will not find what they need to know in books)

“I am the protector,” they say at length. “A fragment and a failsafe.”

“I didn’t ask what you do,” he says, “I asked what you are.”

“Wil—”

“Stop,” he insists. He’s standing in front of both of them now, and he doesn’t look back, doesn’t take his eyes off the figure floating over the table. “We’ve got some, some otherworldly being in here with us, and you don’t think this could at all be relevant? Please tell me I’m not the only one who realizes who he sounds like.” Without waiting for an answer, he addresses the being again. “What are you? And how are you connected to Dream? You can’t tell me you’re not, I don’t believe it.”

Behind him, Ranboo makes a little sound, like he’s been punched in the gut.

They are silent once again.

And then:

“I am a shadow,” they say. “A shadow of the original. I am what he rejected in his last moment of clarity.”

“What are you—are you trying to say you know Dream? Or that you came from Dream?”

They drift closer. “I am of him but not him. My task is to prevent the worst. The final task he set me. I can do nothing else.”

“Is the ‘he’ in that sentence Dream?” Ranboo asks, a frantic whisper that is very loud. “Is the—I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all. Can we go now? I think we should go now and leave the mysterious floating guy alone.”

“Could you speak in anything but riddles?” he snaps, ignoring him. “I want a straight answer. You haven’t given me one yet.”

They drift closer still, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh, static energy crackling across it. He resists the urge to step back.

(this reminds you of another time another time long ago and this surge of confidence is true truer than any you have experienced yet since they dragged you back into this world by your trailing fingertips and it is true because you remember standing on the walls and facing the ruler of the server and holding your ground for what you believe in for the people you fight for and this is different but it feels the same feels the same and you will not give in not even to a)

They are looking at him, right at him,

(twin halos circle slashing wounds into the world and this is something that was never meant to be)

and they say, “It is not of you to demand of me. I am the protector. That is my task,” but that is not what Wilbur hears, because suddenly, there is something in his head, something poking at his thoughts, but it does not reach in as the Egg did, does not pull at the threads of his mind and attempt to twist them into something new, but rather just exists on the edges, touching but not pressing, and there is a pressure and he doesn’t like it at all but it doesn’t hurt him.

And what they say is not words, but rather impressions, imparted to him all at once, impossible to pick apart, and

(the beginning and the end all wrapped up in one as the universe looks on and this server is a home he will make it a home he did but he is gone and this is what remains of the divine fabric the crown of the world and they wait and wait and the universe looks on and they are nothing but a shell all the love taken by the other and broken corrupted drowned twisted and they wait by their task they do what has been set and only once do they not only once do they act there is a man and he asks and he is cloaked by the universe and the thrall of the empty and time in its mercilessness and that which is inbetween and he asks and the universe says yes so they do not refuse and they drag you back into this world by your trailing fingertips for the better or for the worse and the man is gone and the universe cannot be contained by this but the universe says)

he doesn’t understand a bit of it, but he reels back regardless, and his head feels like fireworks have gone off within it, like a thousand thunderclaps sounding overhead. Hand land on his shoulder, on his arm, and he does not push Phil away this time, nor Ranboo when he suddenly appears on his other side. He blinks the spots from his vision, and looks up. The figure is gone.

“You alright?” Phil asks quietly.

“What the fuck?” he says instead of replying. “Phil, what—what was that?”

“I second that? I would also like to know?” Ranboo says, voice tilting upward.

“I would’ve told you not to mess with them, but I figured you should get it out of your system,” Phil says, still quiet, deadly serious. He stares at the table rather than make eye contact, and Wilbur follows his gaze. The End Portal still hums. “I’ve been around the block enough to know a god when I see one. I don’t know what the fuck this one is or what connection they have to Dream, but all they seem to want to do is make sure that no one goes to the End. Like I said, that’s what I was about to tell you before they showed up. Techno and I had to swear five times over that we wouldn’t use the portal for anything other than decoration before they’d even let us keep it. I figured it was best to leave them the fuck alone.”

“A god?” Ranboo echoes. “Like, an actual god? Divine smiting and all of that?”

Wilbur has never been much of a believer himself. Or at least, not one for worship. Gods may exist, but he’ll pay one homage when he decides it deserves his respect, and that day has never arrived.

But this one

(was in his head and he wanted it gone wanted it gone because he has had enough of things dragging their fingers across his sense of self but this one did not push and more than that it felt familiar almost like)

is important.

“There’s plenty of different kinds of gods,” Phil says, “but essentially, yes.”

“Dream’s not a god, though,” he states flatly. Phil glances at him.

“He’s never felt like one to me,” he agrees. “But I never picked up on the demon thing either, so I probably know fuck-all.”

“This feels important,” he says, and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to settle his nerves. “This feels—fuck, every time I think I’ve got all the pieces laid out, it turns out that I’ve made the framework too short, and there’s components I didn’t even know existed.” He shakes his head. The headache has mostly abated, so that’s something. “I don’t suppose they’d come back if we asked them nicely?”

“Do we want them to come back?” Ranboo asks, his voice rising in pitch even further. “Is that a thing that we want?”

He runs a hand through his hair again and doesn’t reply. Phil doesn’t either, though he’s not sure it’s for the same reason. Because frankly, yes; he wants them to come back. He asked them questions and didn’t understand a word of their answers, and he feels like he’s barely scraped the surface of what’s actually going on here. But one thing has been made clear enough: the nature of the connection between Dream and this being, this god, is uncertain, but the connection exists. And considering everything, that is something that’s relevant to them.

He’s beginning to think that they might get some information out of this after all. But he doubts that it’ll come from any book.

----------

They don’t find anything. They go at it for another few hours, flipping through musty pages until his eyes swim, and they come up with absolutely jack-shit. He wishes he could say that he’s surprised. He decides not to say anything about it at all, because Ranboo is wavering on his feet and Phil’s face is held in tight lines, and his negativity won’t do either of them any good.

“We can try again tomorrow,” Phil says, “but we need to turn it in. It’s been a long fucking day.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s been one day. Doesn’t feel like just this morning, they were marching into the Egg’s chamber, intent on taking it down once and for all. Doesn’t feel like they were chased out less than an hour later, battered and with one less than they started with, Dream escaped and everything gone to shit. It doesn’t feel like one day, and yet, it has been, and it reminds him of the war, at the end, when everything was happening so quickly and there was barely any time to process one event before something else was going wrong.

He doesn’t miss those days.

“How long can we afford to do this, Phil?” he asks, and doesn’t bother to hide his weariness. “How long can we afford to fuck around out here with nothing to show for it? We can’t even be sure that nothing’s happened in the Greater SMP, not with comms down.”

“I wish I had a good answer to that, Wil,” Phil says. “I really do. If you’ve got a better plan, I’m all ears.”

(does, perhaps, but it’s not one that Phil will like)

doesn’t, so the rest of the walk back out of the stronghold is made in silence. It’s a relief when they make it to the surface, the cold, biting air fresh on his face. He turns his face into the wind just to feel it, regardless of the sting. Night has fallen, the sun just the barest hint of purple-orange on the western horizon. Overhead, stars twinkle, bright and distant. Techno’s house is lit, now, an orange glow emanating from the windows. Tommy must have gotten a fire going.

Tommy. Right. They’ve left Tommy alone with Techno all afternoon. He’s too tired to be concerned about it right now. The house isn’t burning down, so they’re probably fine.

“I think I’m gonna go home for the night, if that’s okay,” Ranboo says. “I’ll meet up with you guys again in the morning?”

“Sounds good, mate,” Phil says, a bit distractedly; his eyes are roving over the cottage, probably searching for signs of property damage. But Ranboo takes it for agreement, so the kid nods, and then waves awkwardly to him, and then he’s walking across the snow toward the nearest mountain. For the first time, Wilbur realizes that there appears to be a house built into its side, not particularly pretty, but functional.

“With luck, they’re both conked out,” Phil mutters. He gathers his robes around him and heads for the door, and Wilbur trails after him.

Phil opens the door, and they’re greeted with silence. It is not the same silence from before; a fire crackles merrily in the hearth, now, some evidence of life. The house no longer gives an impression of a grave. But there are no voices that he can hear, nothing from the house’s two inhabitants, and perhaps Phil is right and they’re both asleep, but Wilbur doesn’t trust silence.

So as Phil goes over to the fire to stir up the coals, he makes a beeline for the ladder, climbing up as quietly as the creaky old thing will allow. The muttering hits his ears as soon as he pokes his head above the floor, hushed and furious, as if they both want to be shouting but are held back by some unspoken rule, some agreement not to break the peace of the rest of their surroundings. Or maybe that’s bullshit; Tommy isn’t one to care about things like that, after all.

He doesn’t step off the ladder, choosing to hang there for a moment instead, gripping the rungs uneasily. The wood is rough, and vaguely, he wonders if he’ll get splinters.

Technoblade is awake, and more than that, he is aware. That is the first thing his mind locks onto, the fact that his brother looks far better than he did earlier. He is still shaking, but far less, and his eyes are bright and present rather than fogged with pain. He sees no sign of gold, no lingering flickers and flashes of magic, and the relief is heady. He is not yet completely well; the fact that he is still in bed is evidence enough of that. But he is sitting up, and he no longer looks like death warmed over,

(too soon too soon)

and his face is twisted in irritation rather than pain.

Tommy has scooted his emerald block closer to the bed, is leaning forward, feet planted on the floor and hands planted on his knees, all bristling anger, indignation, face flushed and red. He puts Wilbur in mind of a cat, hissing and spitting at the object of his ire, making himself bigger than he truly is.

“—the fuck you want,” he’s saying, and his whisper is harsh, but it’s certainly a whisper. “I don’t fucking—I don’t owe you shit, you got that? I don’t owe you shit, so you can, you can fuck right off, you hear me?”

Techno blinks. “When did I say that, Tommy? Please tell me exactly when I said that,” he says, and—oh. Wilbur gets it now. Because Techno’s voice is quiet and rough, still thick with exhaustion, and he’s probably only a few minutes out from waking up. So, Tommy may be angry, may be positively irate, but whether he’s aware of it or not, he’s holding himself back, refusing to unleash the full force of his fury on someone who has objectively been through hell today.

(and Tommy is brash, and Tommy is loud, and Tommy performs being an irritating little shit like nobody’s business, but above all else, Tommy is good, and Tommy will never admit it, but he is kind, and it is a miracle that it hasn’t been beaten out of him along the way, that despite it all he has managed to keep his spirit, but he is kind, he is. and it is more despite him than because of him, but it is little moments like these that remind Wilbur why he is so proud of him)

“You don’t have to say it,” Tommy bites out. “Mister, mister violence is the only language or whatever the hell, mister vengeance, you’re big on favors and repaying them. But I—I didn’t ask you to do shit, you did that all on your own, so I don’t owe you. I’m saying it right now, I don’t owe you.”

There is an edge to the words. A fear. An expectation. Wilbur doesn’t expect it to hit him as hard as it does, but there is a pang in his chest, and he wonders if this is yet another lesson he imparted on his little brother. To expect no kindness without an ulterior motive.

(that was how he was, in the darkness of the ravine, seeking out the duplicity of everyone around him, even when there was none to be found, but it is one thing to look back and see clearly, now, what he was like, the slope he slid down, the spiral he entered, and another to continue to be confronted with the evidence of the hurt he caused, the hurt he has yet to truly make up for)

(here is a certainty that has not left him: he does not deserve Tommy’s forgiveness. that is another thing that can be attributed to his kindness. the kindness that somehow, between the wars and the country and the shadows, he did not manage to take from him, not like he took so much else)

“I didn’t do it so that you’d owe me,” Techno says. “Give me a little more credit than that.”

“Why should I?” Tommy erupts, though it is the quietest eruption that Wilbur has ever heard from him. “Why—give me one fucking reason why I should believe a word out of your mouth.”

“I don’t lie,” Techno states, flat. “I have no reason to.”

“Oh, right,” Tommy says, “because you’re so fucking honorable. You’re so fucking—I can’t deal with you, you know that? You’re a fucking hypocrite, and I don’t care what your game is. I don’t care. You’re the worst, and I—”

“I don’t want you dead,” Techno says. “That’s it. That’s why I did it, Tommy, simple as that.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy snaps. “Then what the fuck was Doomsday, then? What the fuck was telling me to die like a hero, then? You are just talking complete shit, shit out of your mouth, out of your arse—”

And then, Tommy, cuts off, because Techno tenses, seizing up, a sudden glimmer of gold in his eyes, and he grunts, hands curling into his bed sheets, his face blanking. Tommy moves forward, seemingly on instinct, hands reaching out to steady him, and there is is again, that kindness, that kindness that Tommy would rather die than allow anyone to point out.

The fit subsides, Techno breathing heavily. Tommy lingers for a moment, and then jerks back, scowling, as soon as Techno makes eye contact with him.

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“At the end of the day,” Techno says, slowly, “it doesn’t really matter whether you believe me or not. I’ve been angry at you, Tommy. I can’t say that I don’t feel like it was justified. I’m sick of—” He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply, and then opens them again. “I’ve said all this before. It doesn’t matter. But I don’t want you dead, and I wasn’t about to let Dream kill you in front of me when I could do somethin’ about it. Between my first life and your third one, it was an easy choice.” He sighs, settling further down on the pillows. “Take it or leave it. I’m not arguin’ this right now.”

Tommy’s mouth works. Several emotions flicker across his face, and Wilbur can only pick out a few of them: disbelief, more anger, but perhaps something that might be hope. Perhaps. But if it is, he doesn’t get the chance to find out, because at that moment, Phil calls up from the base of the ladder.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and that’s right, he’s just been standing here, on the ladder, for the past few minutes. He can see why that would make Phil concerned. But that means that Tommy and Techno are both suddenly made aware of his presence.

“What—how long have you been there?” Tommy sputters, and he shrugs, clambering up the last rung or two and stepping fully into the room.

“Not too long,” he says. “Glad to see you cognizant, Techno.”

It’s all he can think so say, really, though there are a plethora of other statements crowding his mind. That has always been a weakness of his, his inability to allow himself to be emotional when it really counts, his habit of hiding everything beneath layers of deflection and a cool exterior. He and Techno aren’t dissimilar on that front, though Techno has a different way of going about it.

(so here is what he does not say: I’m so glad you’re alright, I saw you die when you’re supposed to be deathless and it terrified me, please never do that again, I know we’re broken and fucked up and maybe we’ll never be what we once were but I can’t imagine a life knowing that you won’t be there when I need you to be, so please, please stay alive)

“Can’t say I’m having a great time with it,” Techno mutters, and he’s definitely falling asleep again. “But thanks. Glad you’re not dead too, Wilbur.”

The ladder creaks again as Phil comes up, and he pauses a moment to survey the room before stepping in, eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene.

“Nobody bleeding or dying?” he asks wryly, and then crosses the floor to perch on the edge of Techno’s bed. “Hey, Tech, how you feeling?”

“Absolutely fantastic,” Techno says. “Top form, point me at the orphans.”

Phil laughs, more relief than anything else, and smooths some of Techno’s hair away from his face. Techno huffs out a sigh, but allows the gesture.

“Great,” Tommy says. “You all get anything, or was this whole thing for nothing?” There’s more hostility in his voice than necessary, though whether it’s genuine or to cover for his earlier emotion, Wilbur can’t tell.

“Nothing yet,” Phil says, unfazed. “We’ll spend the night here, get back at it in the morning. If we still don’t find shit, we’ll discuss where to go from there.”

Tommy crosses his arms, looking away, and he’s displeased at the concept of staying here, Wilbur can tell. So as Phil continues to lean over Techno, he slides over to him, nudging him in the arm. Tommy flinches, and then relaxes, eyeing him up.

“You good?” he murmurs, keeping his voice down.

“Fine,” Tommy replies. “Are we actually going to get anything out of this, or was this a big fucking waste of our time?”

Again, vitriol, and he remembers the conversation between him and Tubbo, overheard and unmentioned. After everything they’ve been through, a separation can’t be easy. On either of them, but especially on Tommy.

(a memory: buzzing excitement at doing something good, at helping, shining compasses, an inscription: Your Tubbo)

“It won’t be a waste of time,” he says, and the plan that’s been formulating in the back of his mind solidifies. It’s not a very good plan. But it’s something, and it’s more than they’ve got. “I’ll make sure of that.”

It is a general’s responsibility to lead his soldiers to victory, after all. And in the case of a half-baked, reckless plan, to take matters into his own hands.

And it is more than the general’s responsibility. It is his. For better, or for worse.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #philza #ranboo #dreamxd #tommyinnit #technoblade #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #pogtopia ref tag #minor but it's present

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winryofresembool · 4 years ago

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 30

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: At Waystation, pt 3/?

A/N: Chapter 30 already! This chapter was not an easy one to edit as I was insecure about a lot of things, but hey, it's out now and that's what matters, right? I am so aware things are progressing a bit slowly right now but I feel it's kind of 'necessary' to have a bit of down time before things start going down. (Not that I'm capable of writing actual drama.) Well, at least we'll find out a bit more about Leo's past in this chapter.

Without a further ado, please enjoy and let me know what you think (those comments really help me!!!)

Words: exactly 3000 apparently :O

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

After breakfast Leo asked Calypso if she would like him to give her a tour around Waystation. She agreed, but Leo couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow at his family members when Georgina asked if she could go with the flatmates and Leo’s mothers told her that they needed Georgie’s help in some Christmas chores.

“What?” Josephine asked innocently when she noticed Leo staring.

“I dunno, tía Jo. It just kinda seems like you don’t want Georgie to hang out with us,” he stated bluntly.

“That’s not accurate at all, Leo,” she denied. “I’d gladly let Georgina go with you but we really do need her help around here. Christmas isn’t coming if we all just slack off, right, Emmie?”

“I agree, dear. I haven’t even…” Emmie’s hesitance only deepened Leo’s suspicions. “...hmmm, taken care of our mistletoes yet.”

“Mistletoes?” Leo crossed his arms over his chest, briefly daring to wonder what would happen if he and Calypso were under one of those plants at the same time. He shook his head to dispel such an idea.

“Didn’t we agree that we don’t need stuff like that? You don’t even like Christmas!”

“I may agree that this holiday is way too commercial these days, but since Emmie has some mistletoes growing in her greenhouse anyway, I don’t see why we wouldn’t use them,” Jo commented. “It’s nice that Georgie gets to experience some of the old traditions even if we grownups don’t care about them.”

“Whatever,” Leo rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t win that battle.

“Um, if you need extra hands,” Calypso joined the conversation, addressing Jo and Emmie, “I don’t have to go with Leo. I’d love to help too.”

Leo felt a twinge of disappointment because of Calypso’s suggestion. His insecure side yelled that maybe he had misread Calypso’s intentions all along.

“Oh, no, no!” Emmie denied immediately. “You are our guest; we want you to take it easy and enjoy your stay here. I bet Leo’s tour is a lot more fun than us peeling way too many potatoes and carrots for the casserole.”

“I wouldn’t mind peeling potatoes,” Calypso mumbled but Leo’s mothers pretended they didn’t even hear that. The flatmates simply had to accept that they wouldn’t have a chaperone - except maybe Festus - on their tour.

Once the two of them were outside, Leo’s thoughts went back to the time when he had first arrived at Waystation. Back then, he had been only 15, having just escaped from his latest foster home, which had been located far away in New Mexico. His foster family there had hidden their opinion on him very badly, giving him sly remarks about his looks and telling him to speak clearer English even though Leo’s English had always been fine, thanks to his real mother allowing him to learn both Spanish and English as a small kid. They had also made him do the hard work such as carrying heavy loads while the other foster kid of the family got the easy tasks. And when he had come home from school with bad grades, the foster parents had commented: “why do we even bother with you?”

At some point Leo had simply had enough, and by selling some of the few belongings he had he had managed to gather just enough money for one plane ticket and so he flew to Indianapolis without telling anything to his foster family.

After living on the streets and successfully dodging the authorities for a couple of weeks, the police finally found him and contacted the local social workers. Thankfully, after Leo put all his convincing skills to use, they agreed to not send him back to New Mexico, instead finding him a new foster family nearby. Leo hadn’t had high expectations because he had been in at least 6 different foster homes since his mother’s death and none of them had been a good match for him. Some had been abusive, some racist, some ignorant, some had had kids who were bullies, some had had alcohol issues… What had been common for them all was that none of them had treated him the way they should have.

That was why Leo had picked some bad habits too; he wanted to drown his feelings somehow and he ended up stealing small amounts of money from his foster family so he could buy alcohol from his older homeless ‘friends’. He had hated how it made him feel afterwards, but it had been the only way he had known how to deal with his issues. At some point he had even had suicidal thoughts because the guilt and trauma from his childhood got so bad he woke up covered in sweat after the same old fire filled nightmare almost every night. And going from foster home to foster home and feeling like none of those people cared what he really did with his life definitely didn’t help him regain his feeling of self worth. He had no future, no plans, no real friends or family and nowhere to go.

Luckily, during his worst phase in his last foster home someone from his homeless group mentioned having a relative in Indiana and that he was hoping to move there at some point in hopes of getting a new start for his life. That idea sparked something in Leo’s mind and when he started planning his big escape, Indianapolis was the first place that he thought of.

When he finally met Jo and Emmie, he was surprised. Seeing them spending time with their then 5-year-old adoptive daughter, he could tell that these women genuinely cared about the little girl and did everything for her wellbeing. Not only that, Jo was a mechanic just like Leo’s real mother and they had also other things in common. With some patience and showing that they cared, simply by making sure that Leo ate, rested and had something to do with his time other than dwelling on his sad past, they eventually won him over. And when Leo discovered thanks to Jo’s help that he himself had the skills to become a mechanic someday as well, he finally had a goal to reach and studying wasn’t quite as big a struggle for him anymore.

Soon, however, Leo became afraid that Jo and Emmie wouldn’t want to keep him around because he still had some bad days when he literally had to be dragged from his bed. He was also worried that maybe the women had heard what he had done in his past and were silently judging him. Instead, they surprised him by telling him that they wanted to officially adopt him much like Georgina because he was a part of their family now. As an added bonus they assigned him for therapy sessions, which really helped and the days when he didn’t want to do anything became less and less. Leo knew he was still a work in progress but this family had helped him so much and he had found his purpose, his home, at Waystation.

Calypso had naturally noticed Leo’s silence so eventually she asked:

“Are you OK? You’re being unusually quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, just dandy!” Leo exclaimed, trying to act more like his usual self. “I was just thinking about the times when I first moved in here.”

“Really? Do you want to tell me more about that?” Calypso asked curiously.

“I guess it won’t hurt.” Leo shrugged. “I don’t remember if I’ve told you that I was in a lot of foster homes before I got here. Well, my last foster parents were really shitty people and I was this close to… I dunno, doing something desperate. So I decided to just leave and ended up here in Indianapolis. I, um, was homeless for a bit but when the social workers got me into their hands they found me a new family, Jo and Emmie. At first they were supposed to only foster me for a time being but they ended up adopting me instead. I… haven’t told this to anyone, but they probably saved my life by doing that. The Leo from that time was far from the Super-Sized McSizzle that I am now,” he attempted to joke, but Calypso ignored that. Instead, she said:

“I’m sorry you had to go through that… but I’m glad you opened up about it to me.” Leo’s heart did an extra jump when he saw Calypso smiling at him supportingly. He would never get used to that. “And I’m glad Jo and Emmie adopted you.”

“Yeah, me too… When I first saw the place I was like, ‘wow, I wish I could stay here’. Obviously the people here are awesome - they are my family - but that wasn’t the only thing the 15-year-old me cared about. The cars and other machines Jo was fixing? So cool. I had only seen something like that at my childhood home and the nostalgia hit me like ‘boom’ right away.”

“I should have known it was the machines that convinced you to stay here,” Calypso teased, but Leo knew her already too well to get provoked by that.

“Nah. I mean, they’re neat and all, but Jo and Emmie did the actual convincing.”

“Okay, I believe you. So, was Jo’s garage what made you want to become a mechanical engineer?” Calypso asked.

“I guess the spark was always there but it took me a while to convince myself that I should try to pursue that goal. But when I started going to school again regularly – long story, don’t ask – I noticed that the sciences were easy for me, I was also decent enough at drawing – which of course helps with the blueprints and stuff – and Jo let me try fixing some of the simpler machines she had and turned out I wasn’t half bad. It was Jo and Emmie who kept pushing me to apply for the uni, though, because they believed in me more than I did. I’m thankful that they did it but… sometimes I still doubt...” Leo hadn’t talked about his insecurities even to his adoptive mothers so he felt that the fact that he was able to open up about it to Calypso was a big deal.

“I’ve seen you fix countless items,” Calypso said slowly. “I’ve noticed that you’re always… so different when you’re fiddling with your machines. More relaxed. Calmer. Surer of what you do. And your eyes sparkle and you hum some old school rock song while you work and I can just tell that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Leo had to avert his eyes from her because he was afraid he would do something stupid like cry if he looked at her too long in that moment. No matter how encouraging his family, friends and the therapist were… it was still hard to get used to the compliments. And if he was honest to himself, he probably valued Calypso’s opinion more than anyone else’s at that point.

“Wow… umm… I don’t know how to answer that…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“A simple thank you would probably do,” Calypso replied. “But know that I mean what I say. Now, how about you show me that famous garage?”

Leo did as he was told. He introduced Calypso to all the tools and machinery they used to fix whatever item the customer happened to bring in. He had a feeling that Calypso probably didn’t have any idea what he was talking about half the time because he tended to get very technical with the terms when he got excited, but she still seemed content listening to him. At least she wasn’t telling him to stop, which was definitely a plus.

To Leo’s surprise, Calypso went to the table where he and Jo used to draw their blueprints and asked him if she could see how he did it because she hadn’t seen his blueprints before. He complied, taking a pencil and a piece of blank paper from the stack and looking at Calypso questioningly.

“What do you want me to draw, then? I may have some experience on this but even I need some ideas first…”

“You can draw whatever you like. How about Festus?” Calypso requested.

“Festus?” Leo tapped the pencil against his chin for a moment, considering Calypso’s request. “Hmm, as you wish, Sunshine.”

He started making fast, swift motions on the paper and it didn’t take him very long to finish the sketch. Sure, the lines were a bit rough, but Calypso told him she was very impressed by how accurately he remembered even the little details, such as a dark spot on Festus’ back, how the tail curved when he was happy, and how he was missing a tiny piece of the tip of his left ear.

Leo felt a bit embarrassed by the praise. “It just comes with me hanging out with him so much. Nothing more to it, really.” He looked at the sketch for a moment. “Hold on, I feel like this is missing something. Can you look towards that window for a moment?”

“What, why?” Calypso asked, but turned anyway.

“Just adding something real quick,” Leo replied and started sketching again. He wondered if it was the lighting of the room but he thought Calypso’s cheeks seemed a bit darker than usual and she kept looking at the floor shyly. When he realized that he’d probably feel the same way if she was drawing him, he himself got flustered and decided to try to finish the drawing as quickly as possible. Within minutes he had drawn her next to Festus, playing with him, wearing the same holiday sweater and jeans she currently was.

“Can I see?” Calypso asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Leo gave the picture to her. “It’s not detailed or anything but I tried.”

Calypso kept staring at it for a moment. “Leo… this looks great! I mean, I don’t think I am that pretty but I am quite amazed that you managed to do this that fast!”

Leo wanted to say that there was no way the picture did her justice but he knew that would be a never ending debate so instead he told her: “It’s the experience, Sunshine. When you draw hundreds of blueprints you learn to be fast.”

Calypso turned her attention to the drawing again. “Can I get it?” she asked after a while.

“Why?”

“Because Festus looks cute, you weirdo. That’s a good enough reason, right?”

“Fine, you can have it. I’m not sure where I’d put it anyway.” Leo shrugged. He wasn’t sure why Calypso possibly hanging the picture on her wall made him feel a bit weird. In a good way, though.

Once the two of them left the garage, Leo pointed at a smaller building next to the ‘main’ one. A couple of pointy ears were peeking from the upstairs windows. “That’s where our foster animals live. I think the kid me wished on some level that I could have a pet but my mom could never afford one… but Jo and Emmie have been fostering rescue cats and dogs even before I got here. One of them was Festus’ mum; she was pregnant when she arrived here. When she had her puppies, I noticed that one of them was a bit of an outsider and we instantly formed a bond. Jo and Emmie allowed him to stay here even though he sure would have had adopters.”

“That was really sweet of them,” Calypso commented. “Can we see who’s in there right now?”

“Sure but we should probably let Emmie know about it because she’s pretty strict about who can go in. She may ask us to wear ‘bunny suits’; some of the animals may be sick and we don’t wanna spread the bugs around.”

“No problem, let’s go see her then.”

When Emmie heard what Leo and Calypso were about to do, she promised to stop her Christmas chores for a while so she could show them (mainly Calypso) around in the rescue house. Currently she was fostering two young puppies who had been found on the streets without their mother, a mother cat with her 4 kittens who were getting close to their adoption age, and an older cat with some kidney issues who seemed to however adore the little kittens.

Leo was watching Calypso’s reactions closely as Emmie was introducing her to the kittens. Soon one of the braver kittens climbed on the girl’s lap, giving her a tiny ‘meow’ and then started nuzzling against her sleeve.

“Aww, look Leo! He loves me,” Calypso exclaimed, smiling widely as the kitten started purring loudly on her lap while she pet him. ‘He’s not the only one,’ Leo thought in his mind. Aloud he asked: “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I guess because I’ve never really handled cats so I didn’t know how they’d react to me…” Calypso noted more seriously. But then the happiness returned to her face. “You know, this one reminds me of you! He also has long, black hair like you and fierce eyes.”

“Fierce?” Leo raised his eyebrow. “That’s what you think of me?”

Calypso seemed to want to explain but with Emmie in the room she didn’t go to details. “Um, maybe? Hey, look! Another one is coming!”

This time a small ginger kitten was approaching her and Calypso extended her arm so the kitten could sniff her. The group kept making small talk about the cats in the room and continued snuggling them, but Leo’s eyes were on Calypso the whole time. He could see how happy she was about such a simple thing as kittens and it made him feel lighter, warmer again, even though he had just remembered some very bad times a few moments earlier. Maybe all of it had been meant to happen, he wondered briefly. After all, it led him here, to his family… and Calypso.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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