#not to mention its very convenient that the one person who spoke up when that israelian girl was asked if she should have come-

[handlewithcare-delicate]

Ok so based on the most recent info...we can all agree that all Joost did was stick up a middle finger at a someone who was filming him without his permission, right? We can all agree that it was extremely manipulative to imply what he did was way worse by describing it as "threatening a female member of staff" and just letting it just hang in the air, effectively making it sound as if he had (sexually) assaulted a woman, right?

[sgrplumditz]

Orange peel theory w/ Simon Riley

They had all been granted time off work for a couple weeks now. Being left uninterrupted by her typical life of briefings, debriefings, flights across the globe, and long days away from home only added to her restless nature and her seemingly effortless ability to grow bored --like any woman in her 20's would do to kill time she downloaded social media.

"What the fuck is the orange peel theory?" she spoke to herself as she tossed a piece of the mentioned fruit into her mouth. She continued scrolling through what appeared to be an endless supply of videos regarding the topic. Once she had grasped the concept she shut her phone off and only stared at the scraps of orange peel sitting on the table, a small "hm" leaving her lips as she wondered if that mindless social media trend held any real substance.

Can a person truly show how much they care about another by simply peeling an orange for them? Does peeling a fruit display the extent of their affection?

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she stood up collecting her trash. "No wonder women today are insane..." she thought to herself as she found herself spiraling into deep thought over a fruit named after its color. The over-scrutinizing coming naturally.

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

"Don't request to follow me, killer", said Simon in his typical stoic tone. Simon had always referred to her as “killer”, not because of her career choice, but simply because of the way her eyes sat on her face. When she was on duty she wore a balaclava — similar to Simon’s, but it was more precautionary. She actually had no interest in keeping her identity concealed, but being the only woman on the team meant that she would easily become a target if her identity and gender were to be revealed — hence Simon’s encouragement behind the wearing of a balaclava, which the entire team also agreed would be a good idea. However, when she wore the cloth that hid her features her eyes become even more prominent. The striking color only complimented by the sharp almond shape that seemed to drag at the ends. Because of that Simon then coined the nickname “Killer” for her Killer eyes, which she only accepted as a term of endearment.

“We are not friends, just co-workers". Simon had always been impressively kept to himself in the sense that his private life remained private -- if he truly had one outside of his job. He was good at being a literal ghost. Not many (if any) knew not even the smallest of details — like a hobby, or a favorite color. His name itself was also a privilege to know. She was always curious about him, but she never pushed boundaries on the man. What he revealed to her was what she accepted, a quality that he enjoyed about her, amongst others.

"Aw, c'mon! You let Soap follow you!" she replied with a slight chuckle leaving her mouth. She and Simon were sitting together in the living room of the house that all of Task Force 141 shared. It was convenient, close to the base, and it also meant nobody had to pay rent, but it was empty as of recently. Everyone but her and Simon had taken advantage of the break and decided to travel elsewhere for the remainder of their time off -- leaving only them two in the giant 7-bedroom house.

"He's my friend" he replied still holding the same disinterested tone, yet his body language displayed him to be seemingly intrigued by the conversation. That was one of his best qualities. Simon was not one to initiate an interaction himself unless he felt the need to assert himself, but that did not mean that he was not able to hold a conversation with substance.

"For someone who has social media you're not very social," she muttered as she slumped back on the couch in defeat. Her gaze lazily resting on him.

"Touché" was his only retort. At this point, he had also leaned back in his seat, his hips inching upward as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable. How his body reacted to the movement made his abdominal muscles contract -- her eyes resting on the contracting anatomy. He also maintained his gaze on her, and for a second there was a slight hint of amusement in his eyes as they softened knowing that he knew exactly how to get under her skin. With him being so quiet meant that he was always observing the others, learning their mannerisms and personalities. She couldn’t help but admire him. It was clear that she was fond of him — especially in the physical category, Simon easily embodies the definition of what it means to be a man. He is tall, muscular, handsome, and his personality was simply the cherry on top of the 6’3” sundae.

"I'm... social..." she reclaimed as she removed herself from her spiraling thoughts of him, her tone slightly defensive. Similarly to Simon, she was a homebody and actively avoided situations that required her to be out of her comfort zone for an extended period of time -- perhaps that is part of the reason why the two got along so well. "I just have.." she attempted to continue, but she was cut off by Simon finishing her predictable answer.

"... a social battery. Yeah, you've mentioned that before, Killer." his eyes narrowing slightly amused at her reply. He chuckled shaking his head and pulling his cellphone out of the pocket of his gray sweat pants. He typed into the device’s screen for a few seconds before tossing it to his left side, “Happy?” He chuckled , her phone vibrating as he spoke. She obviously knew the notification was from him, so she didn’t even bother glancing at the device.

“I knew you’d come around. You can never say no to me” she smirked. The pair would often go back a forth with mildly flirtations comments, all of them being light hearted and mostly came from the fact that she was the only woman on the team. The playful banter merely came naturally — at least that is what she assumed. She never took Simon as the type to ever have a genuine interest in a woman due to obvious reasons.

“How could I ever say no to those eyes, Princess?” A teasing tone lingering on his tongue. Princess was the second nickname he had labeled her with. Again, being the only female of the team meant she got some sort of special treatment from everyone else. Soap would help her carry in her groceries — knowing she was more than capable, Price would always brew her some fresh coffee along with his own then place it in the fridge so that by the time she woke up she could easily make an iced coffee without having that watered down taste, and Gaz would often restock her feminine care products for her. Him calling her Princess was the most teasing variation of her nicknames. Although she was well aware of the meaning and the reasoning behind it she could not help but smile whenever he used it. Her full lips parted slightly as a soft grin appeared on them and oddly enough he returned it with a half grin.

He forced himself to stand up before he became completely engulfed in the moment, "I'm gonna make some lunch. Wanna join?" he prompted as he initiated his walk to the kitchen. With a slight nod of her head she also raised herself off the couch and followed closely behind him. God does he always smell good, she thought to herself as they walked.

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

She sat on the kitchen island scrolling through her phone as Simon cooked them both lunch. The two had grown to be comfortable around each other, and their kindred personalities only added to their ability to sit in a peaceful silence. The aroma created by the mixing of spices and ingredients only made her stomach growl and rumble. The sound audible to both her and Simon and truthfully she could not wait to eat. She considered having a snack before just to ease her stomach -- before she could even set her phone down Simon had handed her a small bowl of fruit.

Specifically a bowl of oranges — peeled orange slices. She stared at the bowl in awe. Her gaze was unintentionally soft. As she shifted her gaze to him she noticed that he had gone back to cooking their lunch, as if the action itself was natural to him, something he didn’t think twice about doing for her. He had taken notice of her staring which made him quirk an eyebrow at her as he grabbed a piece of orange from the bowl that was sitting on her lap, close to her lower stomach, casually tossing the piece of fruit into his mouth. “I thought you liked oranges” he spoke with the assumption that she was disappointed in the contents of the bowl.

“I do.” she replied softly. He gave her a small wink prior to turning his attention back to their meal. The entire interaction being a sign of pure affection.

_______________________________________________

Pic credit:

instagram/tiktok: takeoffurmaskghost

[despairforme]

CHAPTER 1 - What’s mine’s mine.

The promotion sign outside didn’t match the shop. The store looked old and somewhat dirty. The kind you’d just pass by, and that survived only by the grace of a loyal local customer base. The sign was in bright colors that immediately appealed to Atsushi. The store had managed to bring in a snack from another region, and was advertising it as a way to stay afloat among the dozen convenience stores in the area. Atsushi was here specifically to get the candy. He had walked by the sign on his way to school, but he’d been late already, and hadn’t had time to stop by. It had bothered him the whole day, and he was worried he was too late to grab himself some stock.

❝I hope I made it in time.❞ he mumbled to himself. When he entered the shop, a discreet bell rang. As always he had to duck his head to avoid the doorframe. It had become a habit for him at this point, since he’d been been forced to do it since middle-school. That’s what you get for being almost 40 cm above average height. The shop was cramped. He actually didn’t mind small shops, because they often had snacks you’d find nowhere else, not to mention there were almost always less people. There was a distinctive run-down feeling here, like the business was on its last legs. He scanned over the shelves to find what he was looking for as he walked down one of the ailes. The shelves reached all the way to the ceiling. 

What’s the point, it’s not like anyone can reach that high? Apart from him, of course. He spotted a smaller version of the promotion sign, but the shelf was empty.

Maji ka? How could his luck be this bad? Was he going to start to walk around with Libra’s ‘lucky item of the day’, like Mido-chin? Frustration and disappointment was rising. Those emotions were never far beneath the surface, so they would spring up easily. Then - some hope. A single package of candy was hiding on the top shelf. Atsushi perked up, and reached for it.

Another hand grabbed it at the exact same time. A white, bony hand with scarred knuckles. Atsushi frowned and instinctively tightened his grip and tried to yank the candy package. The other hand did the same thing.

❝Oi, let go it’s mine.❞

❝Oi, let go, it’s mine.❞ they both said at the exact same time.

He looked from the hand to the owner now, following a long, thin arm. His eyes widened slightly when he realized he didn’t have to look down to meet the other’s eyes. In fact - he had to look slightly up. Atsushi had only ever met one person in real life who was taller than himself. He had a thinner build than Atsushi, but his shoulders were very wide. His face was unpleasant. Thin lips and narrow eyes. He had large teeth that were flashed in an annoyed sneer, a deep furrow between his skinny brows. There was slight surprise on his face too, probably similar to Atsushi’s, the guy had probably never seen someone who was as tall as him either. His hair was long (even longer than Atsushi’s own), and inky black. They both glared at each other while their knuckles turned white around the candy package. Had it been an anime, sparks would’ve flashed between them. To any spectators, they probably looked like two shaggy dogs in a tug-of-war over a bone. Atsushi’s mouth opened in a mute ‘ oh no ‘-sound as the package slipped from his grip, and the tall stranger triumphantly pulled it away

❝Oi! Give it back, I was first!❞ Atsushi complained, holding out his hand as if the stranger really would change his mind. It didn’t look like that was going to happen. The guy’s grin screamed ���victory’. Had he not had his hands full it looked like he’d place both his hands on his hips and laugh at Atsuchi’s defeat. In one hand he had the candy package, and the other was occupied - by a basketball that he was balancing under his arm.

❝Haaaah? No way! Ya lost out, deal with it.❞ The ╬ symbols were certainly popping up on Atsushi’s head now. The guy had a hoarse voice, and something about the way he spoke just made Atsushi think he was a bad guy. He pointed to the other’s basketball. It couldn’t be helped. This was the only way he was going to get his hands on that rare candy.

❝Play me for it. One v One. If I win, I get the candy.❞ This suggestion surprised the other. He looked conflicted for a moment. He seemed like the type to never back down from a challenge (Atsushi was kind of like that himself, because he absolutely hated to lose, but he was also too lazy to get riled up all that easily). There was nothing for the stranger to gain from accepting the challenge, apart from the prospect of victory. Not that there was any chance of Atsushi losing against this guy. He might be the tallest person he’d ever met, but that didn’t automatically mean he was amazing at basketball. Atsushi had always said that basketball was a game for tall people, but he was not simply tall. He also had a remarkable talent.

❝Oh, ya play basketball, huh? Should’a guessed, since yer so tall.❞ What was the height difference between the two of them anyway? A few centimeters? Less than 10. Somehow, Atsushi didn’t feel like he was standing opposite someone larger than himself. It was the other’s build, he decided. He really was skinny. He wore a black, baggy t-shirt. From how loose it was on him, it was obvious that he was thin. Then there were his arms, which appeared to have zero muscle on them. He certainly didn’t come off as athletic. ❝Ain’t like I’m gonna turn down a challenge. I’mma take ya on.❞ The guy cocked his head back, clearly confident.

Atsushi followed behind the other to the check-out. He was so annoyed that he wasn’t even tempted to grab something else for himself. After payment was made, they walked outside. Atsushi had no intentions of walking behind the other like some puppy, so he walked next to him. Normally when he walked, he’d drag his feet out of habit so that others wouldn’t have to jog to keep up with him. He didn’t have to do that now.

❝Ya got a name?❞ The guy suddenly asked.

❝Murasakibara.❞ Atsushi answered.

❝‘Daz way too fuckin’ long. I ain’t never gonna remember that.❞

What is up with this guy?

There was a moment of silence. What was he supposed to say to that? ❝I’m Jiruga.❞

❝Sorry, I don’t remember names of people I beat.❞ It wasn’t true, but he felt like biting back. Jiruga chuckled, the raspiness of his voice exchanged for a surprisingly deep tone.

❝Ya ever played someone was tall as me?❞ He was taller than Jason Silver, wasn’t he? Though he looked smaller. It was the lack of muscles. The few centimeters between them wasn’t going to make much of a difference. Atsushi obviously weighed more, which was going to give him an advantage.

❝I don’t know, like I said, I don’t remember the people I beat.❞

They walked for a little bit without further conversation. Atsushi was glad. He wasn’t a very talkative person, and he didn’t like this guy, so he’d prefer not to chat with him. They both knew where they were going. There was a public court not too far away. It was run down so it was rarely used. How convenient. How old was this guy anyway? It was strange that he hadn’t seen him around before. He was maybe a couple of years older than himself. Was he also a high schooler? If he was, why hadn’t Atsushi heard of him before? Such a tall guy was bound to draw attention in the basketball environment, regardless of his level of skill.

The court was deserted, as expected. The hoop was rusty, and the court markings on the asphalt has completely disappeared. It had been a while since he played street-basketball. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d usually go for. If he played, it was because he was being dragged along, most likely by Muro-chin. While being annoyed was not a good feeling, he had to admit that he did like it when something could lift him out of his apathetic state. It was one of the reasons why he liked basketball in the first place. It made him feel something. It made him care.

Jiruga placed the candy down on the stone fence that separated the court from the street. If it had been the other way around, Atsushi could’ve imagined Jiruga simply snagging the candy and making a run for it. Jiruga bounced the ball a couple of times. The ball was normal-sized, but somehow it looked slightly small in those big hands. Was that how other people felt when they saw Atsushi handle the ball?

❝First one ‘ta score five wins?❞ Jiruga suggested. It was all the same to Atsushi what sort of game-set-up they went for, so he nodded.

❝Bring it on.❞

Was this a lot of effort for some candy? Maybe.

Mah, it’ll all be worth it when I win.

Jiruga started with the ball. He bounced it it with the tips of his fingers. It gave him more control in some ways, but it would be easier to take the ball because there was less grip-strength. When he finally moved, he was fast. Some added agility probably came with having a lighter body. However. He was underestimating Atsushi’s reflexes. When Jiruga attempted to pass him, he timed the bounce so that he slammed his hand against the ball when Jiruga was merely touching it with his fingertips. The ball quickly moved into Atsushi’s palm like it wanted to get stolen. He wasted no time. He was closer to the hoop than Jiruga, so he didn’t have to pass him. Two long strides and he was close enough to jump up and score. Out of habit he was choosing the path of least energy spent, so he wasn’t going to dunk it. The ball was about to pass into the net, when Jiruga’s hand reached it, and he slapped it away. He had barely even jumped to reach it, like he too was playing lazily. 

Tch.

They glared at each other for a split second, before they both reached for the ball. Jiruga’s arms were longer. He reached it first. They were caught in another tug of war with their large hands. Those skinny fingers had a crazy grip strength, and Jiruga pulled the ball away from him successfully. He jumped up to score. Atsushi followed him, and this time their roles were reversed. Atsushi prevented Jiruga from scoring just like the other had done.

Everytime Atsushi stepped up his game, Jiruga would match him. He was always holding himself back out of habit. Nobody could compete with his strength, so if he wanted to play basketball at all - he had to hold back. Or he’d hurt his opponents, or his teammates. This mental barrier wasn’t something he thought about a lot. It was just sort of there. Now though, he was noticing how he was stepping further and further towards breaching the barrier. It was an exciting feeling.

Maybe I can get a little serious...

He jumped up this time, both hands around the ball, and he finally scored. Jiruga had not been prepared to use both hands to stop it. Atsushi was already sweating. He hadn’t thought he’d need to spend this much energy just to score once.

The real surprise came when Jiruga went ahead and scored twice. There was something fiery about him now. His annoyed expression had been replaced with concentration and - maybe enjoyment? Like he was having fun. Often, breaking the deadlock would make it easier to score in a match, but that wasn’t the case here. Atsushi was having a really hard time stealing the ball now. At one point, Jiruga had stopped using the tips of his fingers when he bounced the ball. The only thing Atsushi could do to win the ball was to get the rebound when one of them failed to score. He could use more of his power, he realized.

When he jumped up the next time, he positioned his body so that he’d push Jiruga away, rather than letting him jump freely. In the air, it was a simple matter of weight, and - no surprise. Jiruga lost that battle. The other was pushed back when their bodies collided, while Atsushi continued his jump, slamming the ball down with both hands and finally scoring his second point. When he let go of the ball, he grabbed onto the hoop, swinging back and forth once for a softer landing. That’s when he heard the hoop creak alarmingly. His feet hit the asphalt, and when he looked up, the whole thing was coming down. He quickly got out of the way. There was a thundering sound of metal against stone when the hoop crashed into the ground. After that, there was a moment of silence. Then Jiruga started laughing.

❝Oh, ‘fer fuck’s sake, I was just gettin’ in’ta it.❞ He was wiping sweat off his forehead, and pushing his bangs away from his face. Atsushi was a little out of breath. He too wiped sweat of his face. The score was only 2-2, but they had been playing for a while. He’d been so into the game that he hadn’t even noticed the sun breaking through the clouds. No wonder he was feeling so hot. Jiruga dipped his tongue out between his teeth and panted like a dog. ❝Ya broke it so, ‘daz yer problem. I’m keepin’ ‘da candy.❞

This day really is the worst.

Now he was sweaty, tired, hot, and he was without candy. But...

It’s been a while since I played like that.

Not since they all played against Jabberwock, where he’d broken his wrist. That didn’t mean he wasn’t frustrated though! He hadn’t exactly lost, but it felt like a loss because he didn’t win. He was going to get a milkshake to cheer himself up. He didn’t say anything to Jiruga. No ‘ good game ‘ or ‘ see you later ‘ (he didn’t want to see him later). Instead he began to walk in the direction of the nearest place that sold milkshakes. But why...

Why is this guy walking with me?

❝Why ya followin’ me?❞

❝That’s my line! Why are you following me?❞ Atsushi seriously couldn’t deal with this guy.

❝I’m gonna get milkshake, and it’s this way.❞ Jiruga pointed down the street they were now both walking. Atsushi exhaled and pouted. Should he go somewhere else?

Aaaaarg what a pain!

He wasn’t going to go somewhere else just because this bastard had had the same idea as him. Jiruga had put the candy package in the pocket of his pants, and Atsushi imagined it was now melting from the other’s body heat. How tragic.

Thankfully it only took them five minutes to walk to the fast-food joint that sold milkshakes. And burgers. And fries. Atsushi was almost drooling now. He was hungry. A small victory for him was that he managed to get first inside the restaurant. Jiruga had opened the door (for himself) and Atsushi had pushed past him (there was no way to ‘slip’ past someone when you were his size). He was first in line now. He looked up at the menus, mouth watering. He was so goddamn hungry...

He ordered a large strawberry milkshake, large fries and a large burger.

❝ Double that order.❞ he heard Jiruga say from behind. He turned around to look at him.

❝ Hah? I’m not paying for your food.❞

❝ C’mon, it’s cheaper ‘fer us both. I’ll share ‘da candy with ya.❞ Jiruga was gesturing to a poster that said ‘ double deal ‘, where you’d get a discount on your order if it was double. Atsushi wanted to tell him ‘ no way ‘ just for the satisfaction of making him pay the full amount, but - he was always interested in saving money. Buying cheap snacks was one of his hobbies. Not to mention he’d actually get to taste the candy he’d fought so hard for. It was a win-win. It wasn’t like they had to sit together and eat.

❝Fine.❞

Atsushi paid. They got their food, and then they sat down at a table. Together.

Wait a minute.

❝Who said you should join me?❞ Atsushi mumbled, his eyebrow twitching slightly. Jiruga had sat down opposite him with his tray of food. His milkshake was chocolate flavored.

❝Hah? Don’t ya think it tastes better with milkshake?❞ Jiruga had pulled the candy package out of his pocket. ❝Or do ya wanna taste it after we’re done eatin’?❞

❝No.❞ Atsushi reached out and took the package, opening it. Jiruga didn’t protest. He was biting into his burger with eager, like he was starving for it. The candy, which was a type of chewy-candy with surprise flavors in different colors and a liquid center, had indeed melted a bit. The package contained several smaller wrappings. Atsushi opened one, and finally, he could pop it in his mouth. He hummed in delight. It was delicious! Bliss! He took another one. Jiruga was watching him with an amused expression.

❝Ya got a big sweet tooth, huh? Me too.❞

❝You have big teeth in general.❞ This made Jiruga snort.

❝‘Daz right. Big teeth, big bite.❞ He demonstrated by finishing the rest of his burger in one go. Atsushi made a hmmm-sound and drank some milkshake. The last piece of candy he ate had strawberry flavor, and now he was experiencing a strawberry overload. He loved it. Jiruga tried a piece of candy now. He squished it between his fingers before putting it in his mouth. ❝Pretty good. I sure prefer Japanese candy ‘ta European. This is much sweeter.❞

❝Where do you get European candy?❞ No surprise, he’d be very much interested in trying new things.

❝I dunno? I lived in Spain ‘fer ‘da past three years or so. My parents only decided recently that we should move back here.❞

❝Hōō... I kinda thought you were older.❞ But this would explain why he hadn’t heard of him before.

❝Ain’t we ‘da same age?❞

❝I’m turning 17 in October.❞

❝‘N I’m turnin’ 19.❞ Jiruga chuckled, finding it funny that they had both imagined the other to be older. Atsushi was used to people thinking he was older than he was, thanks to his height. Jiruga probably had the same experience. He pulled off the bun of his hamburger to pull out the pickles and the tomato, placing it aside. He hated vegetables (not counting potatoes). “Ya ain’t gonna eat that?”

❝No.❞ Pickles and tomato? No thanks! Jiruga reached out and promptly scooped up both the pickles and tomatoes from the tray where Atsushi had left it. He blinked in surprise.

❝More ‘fer me.❞ Jiruga grinned with his mouth full.

They sat in silence for a bit. Jiruga ate his fries and drank his milkshake. Atsushi did the same (he also ate some more candy). The silence wasn’t awkward, he decided. It was like they had a joint understanding that there was no need for small-talk or chatter when they didn’t have anything to talk about. Jiruga probably wasn’t a very talkative person, just like Atsushi. They’d reached the bottom of their milkshakes when Jiruga spoke again. ❝It was a pretty good game, huh? Too bad we didn’t get ‘ta finish it.❞

❝Un.❞

❝Been a while since someone could keep me from scorin’. I love winnin’, but who’s gonna acknowledge me as ‘da strongest if I only crush weaklings?❞

❝You weren’t crushing me.❞

❝I know, but I wasn’t goin’ all out.❞

❝I wasn’t either.❞ This made Jiruga grin.

❝Wanna play again sometime?❞ Whenever someone asked him to play, he’d almost always respond with No thanks, it’s too much of a pain. His first instinct was to be as lazy as possible. That response was completely skipped now. Because yes - he wanted to play him again.

❝Yeah.❞

[ CHAPTER 2 ]

[aetheternity]

Abstinence just isn't for me.

When your high-school career had begun you'd joined the abstinence club. Not because you cared for all the propaganda pushing young teens to stay away from sex. But because Aether was in it. Now as you neared twenty and having grown up by his side you knew more than ever that you wanted to be his first. Preferably in a place where someone could hear his every whine and scream.

Disclaimer: Modern au, Corruption, (No pronouns mentioned) Fem reader, handjob, loss of virginity, dub con. (Mdni)

Aether. Sweet, gorgeous, innocent Aether.

Who waltzed around like he wanted so badly to take up as little space as possible. Always drawn into his sister's world as though he were a baby bird and she, his skillful mother. He'd caught your attention who knows how long ago. That pure smile, those big golden doe eyes and the incorrupt way he spoke.

He had strode up to you on a random day in the earliest weeks of the newest high school year. Reciting the same rhetoric he'd dished to every other person in that hall while sliding a brochure into your unsuspecting hands.

"Come join our club?" He was unsure, that fact made clear by the quickness in his voice, "Sorry, I just mean it'll be fun. We'll serve cookies." He poked the booklet in your hand just above the line about refreshments for your convenience before trudging off to follow his sister's lead.

You'd known even as you held it in your hand that this wasn't something you cared to do in the slightest. Your mother had pushed abstinence and celibacy at home enough. Not to mention the constant preaching of it from the church you'd been stipulated to stay in since you were very young. To a point where having grown sick of the word itself was only logical.

A part of you almost trashed it. Almost rid your life of one more nagging voice spewing the same noise of temptation to have premarital sex being the devils work. But something else had stopped you, you'd flipped the smoothly laminated pamphlet over to the meticulously crafted cover.

Its face complete with a bubble letter title, bullet points of meeting dates and even a cartoony chibi of Lumine the school's head honcho. Ms. President of debate team, chess club and a class of her peers. What a surprise that she'd make her own club as well. You'd sneered a bit flipping it open halfway, just enough to see tiny chibi Aether inside the perfectly folded edge.

It wasn't clear who did the art, maybe that was Lumine as well. But they had perfectly captured Aether. In every way shape and form, his sheepish grin, the sparkle of his huge sun kissed irises made even bigger by the tiny body. Yet somehow still the right size. Even the way he pointed towards the words above his head made him effortlessly precious. At that point it'd dawned on you.

A litter of explicit thoughts fluttering your brain about this boy. This boy who you'd seen on numerous occasions eating alone in the library. The boy you'd never had a full conversation with yet watched from afar. If there was any chance in the world for you to see those pretty lashes batted full of tears. Those pouty lips red from kisses and the apples of his cheeks flush with unmistakable color. You'd have to snag the opportunity.

It'd been five years since then. And you'd stuck pretty close to Aether's side since that first day you'd joined the abstinence club up until the very end of high school. Getting quite close to his sister who you honestly hadn't expected to like as much as you do. Meeting Aether's best friends Venti and Xiao who you were immensely confused by at first, seeing as they were polar opposites and fought ninety nine percent of the time. You'd even mistaken them for brothers which was apparently not uncommon for them.

Even becoming Aether's study buddy in the same library at the same table you used to see him at all the time. Perched over a book with a tuna sandwich by his side. Once you two had grown close he began giving you the other half and you'd always given him the half of your favorite sandwich as a trade. Delighted by the intense flutter of your stomach when he smiled over a bite of your food.

When the two of you had graduated you'd gone to colleges a couple hours away from each other. Meanwhile Lumi had sprung for the full college experience a whole seven hour train ride from home. Her and Aether had never been apart for anywhere close to that long but she'd promised him that she would call and facetime whenever she got breaks from class.

Now it was finally the summer after your first full year of college. Just in time for your brain to crash after the heaviest work load you'd ever experienced in your life. You'd talked with Aether weeks in advance about staying with him and Lumine up in their parents beach house which Aether had frankly sold short.

The wooden stick of your popsicle squirmed between your lips as your feet dug into the cottony bed spread before you. Patiently waiting on Aether's bedroom floor while he showered. Your own hair still dripping into the towel on your neck and against the floor from the water balloon fight the two of you had had earlier. Which Lumine had promptly declined joining in on. Something about her wanting to spend some time reading the books she'd brought for a class she'd hoped she could take soon. Always the scholar that Lumine.

It housed the nicest furniture you'd ever seen, laid on and touched in your entire life. Not to mention this place had the most gorgeous balcony you could throw your- stand on, to view the ocean and the sunset. Though the reminder that you could only stay here for three weeks before heading back to hell made jumping sound far more desirable.

The gentle thuds of Aether's feet made your heart flutter for all but a second before relaxing just as he came into view in the doorway. He strode over to you sticking his head out to block your view of the ceiling.

"What's the view like from down there?" He joked blinking up at the ceiling himself.

"Cloudy with a chance of golden blonde hair." You gasp reaching out to tug on Aether's ends. "Holy sh-"

"Hey! This is why I keep it braided up." He chuckles brushing your hand aside as he plops down to cross his legs next to you.

You lean up on your elbow so you can make eye contact, setting the stick aside, "It's so pretty."

"Thank you." You don't miss the tiniest hint of pink spreading over his cheeks as he loops a hand around the back of his neck to smooth the golden strands.

"Let me." You offer, a part of you expects him to decline but when he reaches for his brush he hands it over to you.

Just a look wasn't enough to fully process just how silky the hair you'd be touching was. A gasp nearly escaping your parted lips when you reached out for a simple feel. It was as though you were sifting your fingers through genuine melted gold. Each strand wrapping soothingly around your digits before sliding back into place against his damp grey shirt.

Aether's chuckle awakened you from your trance, "What are you doing back there?"

"What kind of shampoo do you use? And where can I buy a year's supply?"

Aether laughed bringing the towel in his hands up to whisk water droplets off his neck as they cascaded down. You caught a peak of one while your hands busied themselves with Aether's normal braid. It slicked down the curve of his neck, effortlessly forming in the dip of Aether's shoulder blade blending with the color of his skin. Until it could pool away beneath the collar of his shirt when he leaned forward the slightest bit to finish drying his feet.

By this point you were nearly done. Worry suddenly hitting you when you realized you'd been mindlessly tending to his braid the entire time with no concern over whether or not it would come out straight.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"Wanna play a game?" He asked reaching around to feel your progress.

You lightly tapped the back of his hand with a giggle. "Relax, I'm almost done, and sure."

"Ok, truth or dare."

"Ah so we're pretending to be at a high school sleepover." You said as you took the tie off of Aether's wrist.

Aether groaned, "Just pick one."

"Truth." You replied twisting Aether's shoulders towards you.

He rearranged himself so that his legs crossed in front of you while you spread your legs on either side of him. Sliding your elbows up to rest against the cotton sheets behind you.

"What are you scared?" Aether grinned mischievously "Why truth?"

With a shrug you reach for the popsicle stick you'd discarded, "What are you telling me you don't want to take this opportunity to ask me anything you've refrained from asking all these years?"

For the briefest moment his bottom lip curled into his mouth and you couldn't miss the smallest gleam of saliva that glossed over his biteable pink lips.

"What really happened that night you, Venti and Xiao went off by yourselves?"

The chill that curved over your spine must've been noticeable because Aether quickly reassured you that this was a game in which you were not allowed to skip. His shitty laugh honestly atrocious. It wasn't that it was a bad secret per say, at least not for you. But Xiao had made you and Venti swear not to recount that night to anyone. Though here Aether sat with this question over your head like a looming cloud, thick with curiosity that yearned to be sated.

Sorry Xiao.

You sigh pressing your palm against your forehead. "It's not that big of a deal, that night everyone had gone over to Xiao's house for the normal study group which you know and you're also aware that Xiao's father keeps liquor in certain cabinets. As well as Venti's curiosity-"

"Oh Archons he didn't."

"That's why he spent most of the night in the bathroom up until Childe turned the study group into a party. That's when Xiao snatched Venti out of the bathroom and asked for my help getting him home. When we left I asked Xiao if his father would notice the missing bottle that Venti took and we ended up sneaking back upstairs so Xiao could grab his dad's ID because he knows his dad tends to forget it and then-"

"Oh Archons it keeps going?" Aether huffed

You playfully roll your eyes. "Xiao wasn't comfortable buying alcohol so he tried to make me do it but then he realized he'd have to stay outside with a tipsy, screaming Venti so he sucked it up and went into the store. It surprised me back then that it worked but not so much now. Anyway Xiao had the bottle and we were about to finally take Venti home when Venti heeled over and basically emptied his entire stomach onto Xiao's new sneakers. I'm sure you remember him being barefoot when he walked back into the house."

Aether squeezed his temple with one hand. "Oh Archons why is Venti the way that he is."

You snicker shaking your head, "You'd think he'd have learned from that night but if anything he got more riled up when he became of age." A sigh crests off your lips but you're brought back almost immediately. "Don't you dare tell Xiao you know, he'll kill me."

"Ok, Ok this secret is safe with me." He places a hand over his heart.

"Thank you."

"And Lumine when I tell her later."

You yank a pillow from the headboard slapping Aether's face with it enjoying the gasp of shock that leaves his mouth. "What part of no one can know are you not getting? Xiao can and will end my life!"

"You're exaggerating!"

You hold the pillow up again threatening to take his neck off with the next swing of the cotton object.

"Let's place our weapons down please, no one's gonna know." Aether remarks placing two hands in front of his face in surrender.

You slowly lower the pillow and Aether's hands fall in response with a low sigh. You nod as a sort of non verbal agreement with Aether that he would indeed keep his mouth shut. The tick of the nearby clock in the corner filling your ears over the newfound silence.

"Your turn, Truth or Dare?"

"Truth." Aether's reply is nearly immediate

"Pussy."

"You chose Truth first! And anyway this is fair for you because now you get to get me back."

You hum locking eyes with him only a couple inches away from you. Feigning musing but you already had your question locked in your head. On the very tip of your tongue.

"Have you ever been kissed?"

If possible Aether's amber irises grew ten times larger than they already were. The adorable bewilderment complete with the pink coloring of his cheeks and the parting of his lips quickly followed by them shutting once again.

"Wha-" He paused in between what sounded a bit like a laugh or a scoff both seemingly unlikely to you at this moment.

"I asked if you-"

"No! I mean, no I know what you asked but why that?" He stood up, shutting the door which was a logical choice seeing as his outburst had been incredibly noisy.

You pull your knees up to your chest as he places himself in front of you again. His eyes finding connection with anything outside of your eyes. Opening up a small window of opportunity for your gaze to wander over his body. The way his grey shirt was loose enough to allow your thoughts to run wild while still hugging just enough of his figure for you to take in how toned his shoulders were, the smallest portion of his hip bone that peaked out when he shifted a certain way, the string of his sweatpants untying itself and pooling against the hardwood beneath him. All of it honing your desires that much more.

"Ae, I'm not going to make fun of you, you know."

He huffs suddenly and it catches you off guard. "No I haven't. Why'd you ask?"

You feel a weight in your chest for making him answer such a personal question. A part of you had assumed at nineteen he would've wanted to at at least try with someone. Though overall this was a fantastic outcome.

"I wanted to know if I'd be your first."

"Huh.."

When you slid forward on your hands and knees you'd managed to gracefully slot your lips against his. A part of you a bit perplexed at the fact that he hadn't dodged you while another part felt the dulling of an ache years old slowly being quenched.

"Kiss me back." Your lips ghosted his.

It was such a tiny nudge but it brought the best outcome. A slow, hesitant, innocent kiss that was everything you'd ever believed kissing Aether would be like but also surprisingly well versed for someone who'd never done this. The gentle quiver of his top lip as he chased after your mouth, the slow settling of his body as he quickly began to get accustomed to the change of position from you leaning in deeper. One hand drifting up his thigh.

And judging by his quick retraction..

"No wait stop.. I can't."

"Cause of Lumine?" He doesn't get out a response before you're peppering his lips over and over again with the airiest kisses you can muster. Seeing as the other half of you simply wanted to yank his sweatpants down this instant.

He fell silent still pushing your wrist back anytime you moved it forward. His response telling you exactly what you needed to know.

"I thought you were done with that whole abstinence stuff after high school." With one hand you managed to slide him backwards until he was lying completely flat on the floor.

"Why would I be?" His gaze searched yours almost frantically looking for some kind of answer behind your hooded eye lids.

"I thought you knew all of that stuff were lies made up by our parents and teachers to stop us from having underaged sex." You giggle a little at the pureness of his features all shadowed by you towering over him, his breath faint against your cheeks as you lean into him again and again for more of his addictive kisses. "You're so pretty." You hum smile widening.

"It's not- no one lied.."

"Adults lie to childrento protect them all the time." When you slip your fingers beneath the hem of his shirt he doesn't stop you. Doesn't even flinch as you lean in closer to properly take a seat on his thighs.

"Lumine-" He chokes, flinching beneath the rough grasp of your hand on his shaft.

"Wouldn't? No not on purpose. But she's another cog in the machine."

"I can't I promised Lumi-" His Adam's apple displayed itself for the briefest bob and you controlled the heavy urge to bite it.

You don't hesitate to squeeze the base of his cock nearly cumming at the tiniest moan that trickles off his lips. "Are you into that? Mild exhibitionism? So filthy." You hum

"Really you want to stop? When you're hard as a rock." The smallest flick of your wrist had him drawing his hips up whether he realized it or not. His knees buckling and eyes half lidded as they gazed at you in a silent plea.

His hands slip over your wrist in neither a please stop or continue way more of a conflicted desire. "Maybe you secretly enjoy the idea of your sister hearing?"

In light of his ongoing mental dilemma you pull the strings of his sweatpants loose tugging the band away and-

You nearly moan at how pretty he is, dripping pre cum and pink all the way down to his base. Even his cock seemed to hold a level of innocence twitching with a demand to be touched even if only for a couple seconds. You give it the weakest blow on the tip and Aether whimpers beneath you his beautiful dick weeping for more contact.

The second your hands come in contact with his shaft Aether's moaning slapping a hand over his mouth. His hips grinding beneath your hand with only his release in mind at this point.

"Look who came around." You tease heavily massaging the head of his cock with the palm of your thumb. Nearly making him sob. "Do you masturbate sweetie?"

The question struck you suddenly and yeah sure now was a weird time to ask judging by the way Aether's brows furrowed. Though you were curious if he'd tell you the truth. You didn't actually need an answer the color of his balls told you everything you needed to know, not to mention they weren't as heavy as you'd hoped they'd be.

Regardless he'd hopefully still give you a big load.

"I- Sometimes."

"Hmm, sometimes." You repeat with a smile. "Recently?"

He took a second to force down the spit that was lodged in his throat. Though his reply was a raspy moan. You sped your hand along a bit too eager to see the face he'd make during his first sexual orgasm, cupping his balls with your free hand. His eyes soon falling shut with the steady grind of his hips as he fucked your hand.

"No no no." The hand that'd been on his balls slid up to his chin and then his cheek. He reluctantly opened his eyes to show off the tiniest slit of amber drowning in hot tears. "If you want me to make you cum you have to keep your eyes open.

"Ok.. ok." He whispered, clenching his teeth.

His precum starts to soak your fingers trailing down his abdomen to the floor. And as much as you'd like to tease him further by licking it all away you can tell it'd probably push him right over the edge. His chest begins to sink lower with every breath, back arching as the coil unravels further and further.

He mutters a couple curse words under his breath, "I- I feel like.. I'm close.."

You quickly yank your hand away standing to slip off your own pants and underwear. The bare feeling of his tip already too good. You barely get a chance to slip him in half way before he's moaning so loud you have to press both hands over his mouth. The feeling of being filled fucking incredible especially the way Aether's cock is perfectly pressing into all of your weak spots.

"Wait! I can't cum inside I'll-"

"You really think I'd do this with you if I wasn't prepared for that?" You begin to rock your hips entranced by how snugly his cock fit. Just like he was made for only your pussy.

"Please don't stop." He whimpered "Need more."

In a moment of boldness he reached out to take hold of your hips. pressing his body into yours tighter. Sliding every inch of himself inside until you had to hold back your own sobbing.

"You feel so good pretty boy." You complimented

For a split second his eyes shut and then flew open, mouth going with it but you'd prepared pressing your lips into his to muffle every sound trickling off his stained lips. He squeezes your thigh a little tighter crying into your mouth. Slamming his cock inside so much quicker.

"Please don't tell Lumi.." He begs when you break for air, clinging to your shoulders like you were his lifeline.

"I'm not going to." You chuckle

"Please.. please don't tell."

You cup his pretty cheeks, wiping the tears flooding out of his eyes. "This is our dirty little secret."

He nods nearly inaudible as he squeaks out the faintest warning, "I'm cumming."

His eyes curl into the depths of his skull and the gasp he lets out is quickly covered by your lips. His load heavy enough to make your smile that much wider and your pussy perfectly full. It was hard to tell if he was even still in there by the time he'd finished. Eyes unfocused, dry tears sticking to nearly every part of his face. Trickles of air slipping off his lips.

Both your hearts nearly fly from your chest as you hear the faintest knock on the bedroom door. "Hey guys I'll be back I want to run to the convivence store. Do you guys want anything?"

"You look relaxed." You giggle as his eyes finally focus on you.

"Holy sh-"

"No thank you Lumi, we're doing ok." You reply back grateful for the sound of her footsteps retreating.

"Hear that? We get to have a round two." You snicker layering Aether's lips with kisses as you wrap your arms around his neck.

[dilfdoctordoom]

On Tom Taylor, the Current Nightwing Run & Ableism

I did mention I was gonna do a post about it, so here we are. There are some things I want to make clear before we begin: the issue exploded on Twitter on the very first day of disabled Pride month; disabled people have been discussing the ableism in Taylor’s Nightwing run since it began; nobody has blamed Taylor for what happened to Barbara in 2011. We are, however, blaming him for the way she is written in his series during 2021. 

I am also going to be discussing the ableism in the fandom in this post. The reactions I have seen, from here to Twitter to TikTok, are showing not only a great misunderstanding of the situation, but a purposeful misunderstanding. The very real reasons disabled people are angry right now have been twisted to make us seem ridiculous and overly sensitive and I cannot help but feel that is very intentional.

Another quick addition: disabled people are not a monolith. Barbara Gordon spent over 20 years as a paralyzed wheelchair user. Stating (and I would like to note, never truly showing) that she is a part time cane user now is still erasing her disability. These things are not interchangeable.

So, with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Tom Taylor’s run is ableist. That is a fact of this situation. He made the active choice to include a version of Barbara Gordon that is ableist caricature. Story wise, the role that Barbara plays could have easily been filled by anyone else. There is no real season, within the narrative and outside of it, for Taylor to include this version of Barbara Gordon, who has received a decade of criticism from disabled people. It’s very well known that this iteration is problematic, to put it kindly, and Taylor is aware of that. 

He made the active decision to include her, anyway, showing, at the very least, that he is passively, if not actively, ableist. Passive ableism is still ableism and disabled people are allowed to take issue with that.

That alone is reason enough for disabled people to be angry. But that’s not why things exploded on Twitter.

On July 1st, the very first day of disabled pride month, the new design for Barbara was dropped. After months of teasing Barbara’s return to a wheelchair using Oracle (see: Last Days of The DC Universe, Batgirl (2016), etc), they debuted... a new Batgirl costume that the artist has openly said draws inspiration from the Burnside suit.

There’s a lot of issues to unpack here, so let’s start small: the issue with consciously calling back to Burnside. The Burnside era of Batgirl stories was... beyond awful. The villain of the series’ first arc, was an AI based on Barbara’s brain patterns when she was disabled. It was evil because of all the rage and pain Barbara felt. The actual Barbara, on the other hand, was good -- because she was able bodied. Because her PTSD had been tossed aside. It was a horrifically ableist era that drove the idea that Barbara’s life was terrible when she was disabled; that it was some horrible, twisted secret.

Comics have kept that narrative going. Barbara is seen hiding books on chronic pain; she reacts aggressively to the mere idea that she could be in a wheelchair again, acting like it would be weakness. Whereas Barbara had once been Oracle not because of, but in spite of, her disability, who was fantastic representation for the disabled community, she now acts like it is the most shameful thing in her life.

To call back to Burnside is to call back to that ableism and make no critique of it. If anything, it’s to embrace the ideas of that era.

There is also the design itself to consider. Many people have pointed out the inclusion of a back brace, as if that saves it from ableism -- it does not. Any person who has ever worn a back brace can take one look at this design and know that they did not consult a disabled person. Hell, by how impractical that thing is, I doubt they even Googled a picture of a back brace.

It’s a superficial acknowledgement that Barbara is supposed to be disabled. Something that was apparently thrown in to appease the numerous complaints of Barbara being able bodied; something that no one working on it put any effort into.

When it comes to aids, this is not a new thing for Barbara in Infinite Frontier. She’s said to be using a cane occasionally, that we got a better look at in Batman: Urban Legends, and as any cane user can tell you... that is not a cane that could feasibly be used. It’s another pathetic attempt to acknowledge that Barbara is supposed to be disabled, without actually doing anything of importance.

[IMAGE ID:  A segmented cane with a tri-pointed handle with a wrist strap. There is a stripe across the sections to connection them, labelled “solar battery charger buttons”. The text reads: “telescoping antenna doubles as cane or weapon if needed”. END ID]

Dropping this design (which we have now established to be problematic) on the very first day of disabled pride month is a sickening move. The very first day, and DC has doubled down on their disability erasure, thrown in superficial things like a back brace to act like it’s fine.

Tom Taylor is definitely involved in this, whether you like it not. No, he is not in anyway responsible for the events of the New 52 and what they did to Barbara Gordon, but that does not absolve him of blame for what is currently being done to her in his run.

When the design dropped, it started trending due to disabled fans reactions. To be clear: we were directly calling out the ableism in this design. This was Tom Taylor’s response:

[IMAGE ID: A tweet from TomTaylorMade that says: “Hey, @Bruna_Redono_F I think our new Batgirl suit is getting some attention.” He then adds a winky face emoji and tags @jesswchen and @drinkpinkkink. Attached are a screenshot showing that Batgirl is trending in the United States and a picture of the design itself. END ID]

This is him, bragging about how the disabled community reacted. Perhaps before this tweet, you could’ve made an argument that he was not ableist, but after he flaunted the fact that disabled people were rightly furious over this, like it was something to be proud of? No. If you are defending him, you are a part of the problem.

Taylor has included ableist writing in his Nightwing run, beyond the inherent ableism that comes with the current iteration of Barbara Gordon (whose inclusion, yet again, is his decision).

[IMAGE ID: A panel from Nightwing #79. Barbara and Dick are standing in his apartment. Barbara is saying: “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together. I’m happy to do most things -- eat pizza in the park, take down low-level thugs -- but leaping from rooftops seems... unwise.” END ID]

What Barbara says in the panel above has bothered a lot of disabled people. The implication that she couldn’t “eat pizza in the park’ and “take down low-level thugs” without a spinal implant that conveniently erases her disability is... fucked up, to put it mildly. Those are both things that Barbara has done in a wheelchair. The first one is something wheelchair users can do and the implication that it’s not is beyond offensive.

But, let’s leave Barbara behind for a moment. I have previously mentioned that disabled people have been discussing the ableism present in this run long before July -- and that ableism is not only centred on Barbara. Dick is also a player in all this.

Dick Grayson was shot in the head. I don’t believe I need to retread the story, but just in case: Dick was shot in the head by KGBeast, developed amnesia from the event, and went by Ric Grayson for a long enough period in comics. If you have been active within the DC fandom for the past year or so, you know all about this controversial storyline and its fallout.

The Ric Grayson arc concluded itself the issue before Taylor became the writer for the series and ever since his tenure has begun, Taylor has completely ignored the reality of Dick being a disabled man. We understand this is comics, that things do not function the way they do in our world, but still -- it is clear that this gunshot wound to the head has affected Dick massively. We had an entire arc dedicated to how he struggled to find himself in the aftermath.

Taylor is choosing to write Dick as an able-bodied man, despite his canonical injuries and how they would impact his life.

This man is choosing to give empty gestures towards Barbara being a disabled woman (as discussed above, the completely dysfunctional back brace, etc) whilst writing her as able-bodied as possible. He writes both Dick and Barbara as able bodied as humanly possible. That is ableist. He is ableist. This is the same man that said he made a dog disabled ‘in honour of Barbara’. I do not think I need to elaborate on why that is bad.

The least he could’ve done, was get a sensitivity reader. We know that Taylor is not beyond getting people from marginalized communities to consult on his work (see: Suicide Squad), so why, when writing two characters that should be disabled, one that the disabled community have been criticising for a decade, does he not reach out to a single disabled person? A mere Google search could’ve improved the situation massively. In both the new design and the current writing, it is beyond clear that this is not just an able-bodied person writing it -- it’s an ableist person.

He could have listened to the numerous disabled fans that spoke out. Instead, he chose not only to refuse to do that, but to describe justifiable anger as ‘raging’. He treated us like we were crazy for daring to speak out about blatant ableism being parading around of us in our pride month.

Tom Taylor has failed to do the bare minimum and in doing so, he is, at very, very least, guilty of complicity. Again: passive ableism is still ableism.

The argument at hand is not just about Barbara Gordon and the continuing ableism that shines out from her current writing. The argument is about the treatment of disabled characters in his run. It has also become about the way he treats physically disabled people.

We also can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the fandom’s role in it all. I waited a day to write this up, to allow all the reactions to flood in... and I am sickened.

We have everything across the board. Able-bodied people that have actually listened to disabled people, who have supported us (which is deeply appreciated). Able-bodied people who may have had good intentions, but a skewed sense of the situation and perpetuating some of the more insidious lies being spread around (IE. that this is only about the new costume).

There are, obviously, the ableist reactions, though, that we will be discussing here. People deeming the current issues as ‘crazy’, calling disabled people ‘overly sensitive’ and ‘delusional’. Many people have completely glossed over the examples given for why Taylor, specifically, is ableist, and instead have resorted to telling disabled people that we are wrong and should be mad at DC instead.

It’s important to note that Tom Taylor is an adult man. He doesn’t need a fandom to attack disabled people for daring to call him out. He is not the victim in this situation; he has, for quite a few disabled people, been the aggressor.

I have seen claims that Infinite Frontier is a ‘slow burn’, implying that disabled people need to patient... as if we have not waited a decade for less ableist writing. There is a complete refusal from able-bodied fans to actually listen to what disabled people are saying. They would much rather rush to the defence of the (honestly rather mediocre) current Nightwing run. 

Disabled fans know that comic book spaces are ableist. We know that both DC and Marvel and many of their writers are ableist. We are still allowed to be pissed as hell about it and acting like the current reaction being had right now is disabled people being ‘overdramatic’ is yet another example of how the able-bodied side of the fandom both refuses to listen to and undermine disabled people when we call out ableism.

We know it when we see it. We always do and we always will and we will always be able to recognize it far faster than an able-bodied person. If this many disabled fans are coming out and talking about an issue, calling it ableism, then it’s time for you shut up and listen.

Stop being a part of the problem and start supporting disabled fans for once.

[takuyakistall]

Don't get caught! | Riddle Rosehearts

Synopsis: While visiting Heartslabyul, you couldn't help but want to be a hedgehog after seeing the way Riddle is so fond of them and spoils them. But be careful for what you wish for! It might just come true.

Note: This was a request but the ask was too long so I just posted this on its own. I had fun writing this! It was a very cute idea and got carried away so this turned out longer than expected, I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure if this was a good idea or not. You weren’t even sure if this plan would work but Trey and the other Heartslabyul first years insisted that it was going to work—or at least, they’ll try to make it a success. You had absentmindedly let out a random thought a few days about your hair, saying how curious you are about how you would look like in different hair colours and hairstyles. Trey’s unique magic immediately came into your mind, Doodle Suit, and you couldn’t help but comment on how convenient it would be if it could temporarily overwrite your appearance.

You felt bad for asking Trey a favour so suddenly but much to your surprise, he indulged you and said that it isn’t any problem. Of course, you knew nothing about the way his magic works and if it really isn’t a problem to him. Though you decided to trust his words and agreed to meet up with him in the Heartslabyul Dorm during the weekends. Grim, Ace and Deuce tagged along behind you as you entered the mirror to the dorm. Ace and Deuce wanted to be a little bit extra (or so you thought) and picked you up from your dorm.

The smell of freshly painted roses was in the air as your eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight. You relished in the sight of the rose hedges lined up and the half-painted roses hanging from them, a few drops of red paint dripping to the green grass. The empty cans of red paint here and there as you walked through the stone path to the main building. You caught a few glimpses of a few students scrambling to their feet as they picked up a brush and started painting the roses.

Behind them, you could barely make out a familiar shade of red and a heart-shaped ahoge. You quickly turned to Ace, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Wait, where are we headed?” You asked them as Grim climbed up your shoulder.

“To the lounge, or Trey’s room. Whatever works.” Ace answered half-heartedly as he pushed the door open and scanned the room full of students for the green-haired vice dorm leader.

“Nevermind, we’re going to his room.”

Saying the hallways of Heartslabyul was confusing is a big understatement. The twists and turns of the halls more or less made you dizzy just from looking at it. The fact that you don’t know the actual way to Trey’s room made it harder for you to navigate where you were headed to. Deuce grabbed the hem of your sleeve when you were about to make a turn, whispering to you about how his room was still up ahead. Grim had long gotten off your shoulder once he realized that he might get lost with you.

“Good grief… I don’t even have any idea about what colour I should go with first.” You sighed as you spotted a window that gave you a view of the rose maze. The countless green hedges adorned with white roses. Have they not painted this part of the maze yet? You paid it little mind as your eyes wandered to the small cage placed outside and the tiny creatures inside.

Hedgehogs?

Green, pink, and blue ones were all scattered and rolling around in the cage. You couldn’t get a good view but it seemed like someone was giving them food right now. You stopped in your tracks when you realized it was none other than the dorm leader who was doing it. He dusted his hands and stared at the small blobs of colour inside the cage. You couldn’t see it clearly but you saw him open his mouth as a small smile appeared on his face. You found it a bit cute—cute how caring he seems to get when it comes to them.

It must be nice to be a spoiled hedgehog under Riddle’s care huh…

You shook your head, the tips of your ears growing hotter as you told yourself off about having such weird thoughts. Your head snapped back to where Ace and Deuce originally were but only to find them out of sight.

You felt panic rise in your throat as you looked left and right, your eyes searching for the familiar figures. You scolded yourself, regretting getting distracted by that redhead you seem to be so enchanted by. You wandered around the hallway, the knot in your throat growing tighter as you prayed that you won’t get lost.

“Geez! Just how big is this place?” You leaned against the window’s ledge as you let out a small pant. You’ve been walking around the dorm for what felt like hours now but you found yourself in the same place as before—by the window where you watched Riddle tend to the hedgehogs as you sighed.

“Um, excuse me…” The sudden voice behind your back made you jump in place a little. You quickly turned around and was met with a male student with brown hair. Your tense muscles visibly relaxed.

Finally! There was someone you could ask. You opened your mouth slightly to ask but before a single word could be formed—he asked you an unexpected question. He caught sight of the scene you were staring at before his involvement.

“Oh! Were you watching the Dorm Head?” Dense as a rock. The student didn’t think twice before asking this question, his eyes not registering the way your eyes widened slightly and your stance stiffened. You kept silent.

“Hehe, it seems like he’s taking care of the hedgehogs personally.” He mentioned, his voice laced with the faintest bit of admiration when he stared at the scene beside you. You tried to shrug it off but the curiosity inside you couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“...Is it anything special? Riddle taking care of them personally, I mean.”

“Eh? Well… no, not really. It’s just that he really likes them, so he tends to spoil them whenever he’s on duty.”

“Oh, is that so?” You tried looking the other way, trying to keep the nonchalant tone. But the moment you looked away—you could feel a small smile creeping up your face.

Cute.

You shook your head before you got carried away by any other thoughts and turned to the student. You need to do what you came here for!

“Oh, by the way, do you know how to get to Trey’s room?”

“Eh?”

“What the hell took you so long!?” Ace was the first one to greet you with his fist meeting your head without any warning. You winced a bit, clutching your head and fought back with your words.

“It was your fault for walking too fast!”

“Hah? Didn’t we warn you to keep close to us?”

“You said nothing about that!”

“Oh.” Ace fell silent. The corner of his lips suddenly curling up, as if a realization struck him.

“Haha! Don’t mind, everyone makes mistakes right?” There was nothing stronger than the feeling of wanting to slap the grin off his face right now. Had it not been for Deuce trying to keep the peace between you, you weren’t sure if you could've held yourself back.

“Moving on,” Deuce placed a hand over your shoulder. “Trey-senpai’s room is just up ahead. Don’t lose sight of us again, alright?”

It was hard to navigate yourself around the dorm. If there was one crucial thing they hadn’t told you about the dorm, it was the fact that if you weren’t a Heartslabyul student or school faculty, you were bound to get lost amidst the twists and turns. But in their defense, they didn’t expect you to get distracted so easily. You nodded as you followed behind the duo once again.

After a minute or two, you found yourself face-to-face with Trey in front of his dorm room. That’s when you realized you haven’t thought about what colour you’d like after getting lost but your thoughts were cut off when Trey suddenly spoke up.

“Oh, you guys are here. You were a bit late, did you run into some trouble?” He asked as he urged you three (four if you’re counting Grim) into his room.

“(Y/N) got lost~!” Ace chirped in a singsong voice as he threw his arms back behind his head.

“Eh, really? Be more careful next time, you’re lucky you were found quickly—otherwise, who knows how long you’d be stuck there.” The closed-eyed smile on his face made his terrifying words seem normal. You wondered if there were previous cases that went way worse than what you went through. You let out a relieved sigh inside your head, thanking the student that found you.

“Then, let’s make this quick.” Trey guided you to a chair, dragging you gently by the wrist and made you sit there as Ace, Deuce, and Grim stood beside you. Their growing curiosity couldn’t be masked.

His instructions were clear enough. He said that you should try to paint an image inside your head. Envision what you would like to look like while closing your eyes and then he’ll activate his unique magic. He also mentioned that it would only last 24 hours or shorter if interfered with stronger magic and that he can revert the spell after a certain period if time just in case you wanted to remove it quicker.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to paint an image of yourself you’d like to see.

“Ready? I’ll start now.”

You thought of your favourite colour, envisioning yourself with that certain hair colour. Wondering if Riddle would like it if he saw it. Oh, maybe if you were a (F/C) coloured hedgehog, he might find you cute!

“Doodle Suit!”

A small puff of smoke appeared just right after Trey finished his incantation. You felt a bit groggy and weird, was it supposed to feel like this? You opened your eyes, your vision adjusting to the sudden light until you realized the situation you were in. Everything seemed a hundred times bigger than they usually were and everyone inside the room seemed to have grown bigger. Everyone except you.

You felt so small.

“Eh!? Trey-senpai, where did they go?” The panic in Ace’s voice was unlike him. But Deuce was even more panicked than him, he thought that maybe they messed up and you disappeared for good. Grim was looking frantically everywhere.

You wanted to shout out. Tell them that you were still here but oddly enough, instead of a voice, a very weird sound came out of your mouth. The room froze when they heard it. Trey was the first one to spot you, a nervous chuckle slipping from his mouth as he held your small body up.

“It seems like your friend… turned into a hedgehog.”

Eh?

Eh!?

You messed up. Countless thoughts swirled rapidly at dangerous speeds as you thought about what could’ve gone wrong. You swore you did his instructions properly, you thought of what you wanted to look like and—

At the last minute, you thought about hedgehogs. That’s what went wrong. You wanted to bury your face into your hands but your new incredibly short four legs couldn’t even reach your face. This was a new level of embarrassment, you just wished that this was all a bad dream. You lied down flat on Trey’s palm, hiding your face from everyone as you heard Ace barely being able to contain his laughter.

“Pfft—” He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to tell himself not to laugh but the situation made it hard for him to follow his instructions. Deuce, on the other hand, was crouching down while clutching his stomach—trying to keep his laughter as silent as possible. Grim had an indifferent expression before he approached you. He scaled your size compared to him and that’s when he lost it.

If you could speak, you would’ve told them to cut it out but much to your misfortune, you were left to make weird noises hedgehogs made. And if you were to make sounds like that, you were pretty much sure that they would laugh harder at you.

“Oh man, this is gold! I can’t believe you turned into a hedgehog.” Ace let out, that stupid grin on his face wider than ever.

“Though that does make me wonder how you managed to think about hedgehogs.” Deuce crossed his arms and pondered, finally calming down. Before he could dive deeper into his thoughts, Trey interjected.

“That isn’t important right now. We better think of what to do with your friend.”

“Trey-senpai, can’t you just overwrite it with your unique magic?” Deuce asked him.

“Unfortunately, it’s going to take a while before I can use my magic on them again. We need to put them somewhere safe for a while, can one of you keep them with you or do you know a place we can leave them?”

“Well, how about…”

“Hup! Off you go!” You hopped off Ace’s hand into the small cage he pushed you into. You felt yourself tense up when you were surrounded by your fellow small creatures, wondering if it was alright for you to sneak in like this. Ace assured Deuce that no one would notice an extra hedgehog inside the cage and decided that it was alright for you to stay there.

You had your doubts and troubles about this course of action but what can you do except comply? Your fate was temporarily in their hands—you were completely helpless. You just stayed behind as you watched Ace, Deuce, and Grim fade into the distance as they walked further and further away.

You looked around, trying to find something you can entertain yourself with but only to be met with immeasurable disappointment when you found out there was absolutely nothing you could do except eat, drink, or sleep. What’s worse is that you don’t know how long you were going to be here. You lied down on your stomach as you stared into space, a sudden wave of tiredness came over you as you felt your eyelids close.

Perhaps a short nap wouldn’t hurt.

You woke up to the heavy weight that rested over your body, you felt like you were being squeezed as a surge of panic took over you. You looked up to see that a green hedgehog was sleeping over you, it looked so comfortable that you felt bad for suddenly moving from your place. You couldn’t stay like this—you wanted to get out! You wished that Ace and Deuce just brought you with them even if it meant that they would probably get told off by Riddle for bringing out a hedgehog outside croquet matches.

“Hm? How strange… did I count correctly?” The sudden voice made you jump in your place, eyes darting everywhere to find out where it came from.

Wine red hair and slate grey eyes. There was no mistaking it—the voice belonged to none other than Riddle Rosehearts, the Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul. Confused, you wondered why he was still here. Didn’t his duty end a while ago? There was no reason for him to check up on the hedgehogs again!

“There’s an extra one?” His eyes shifted to you and you felt your blood run cold. How in the world did he know it was you out of everyone in the cage? You needed to think of something, quick. Who knows what he might do to you? Throw you out? Certainly, he wouldn’t do that… right?

“Don’t be scared. I won’t harm you, I promise.” Riddle’s gentle voice as he reassured you made you feel safe. You stared at his outstretched arm as a small smile appeared on his face and you couldn’t help but willingly hop into his palm. He brought you closer until you were on eye level with him. His grey eyes staring at you so intensely, you almost let out a squeak.

“Now then, we just have to find out who put you here.” He placed you on his shoulder and you felt the sudden panic sink in. You were in for a lot of trouble! You hadn’t expected Riddle to notice the extra hedgehog and you didn’t even expect him to come over in the first place. You cursed Ace and Deuce inside your head for leaving you there and expecting everything to sail smoothly.

If Riddle found out what happened, you were screwed. The best course of action you chose was to do your best to act like a normal hedgehog. That should be easy enough, right? Wrong! You didn’t know anything about how they acted and that fact alone made you declare this operation a failure.

Riddle walked away from the gardens and into the dorm building, your grip on his clothes tight because you were afraid of falling. Riddle felt the sudden shift on his shoulder and barely felt your claws ghosting over his clothes. He thought it was a bit strange, were you afraid of heights? But he paid it little to no mind as he continued walking and pushed open the door.

The students sitting in the common room suddenly stiffened up—they were first years and it was only natural that they were afraid of the strict Riddle Rosehearts. They stood up and greeted Riddle almost immediately, like soldiers.

"D-Dorm Leader!"

“Calm down, I’m not here to reprimand you or anything.” Riddle was irked at the way they visibly relaxed after saying that but he didn’t bother bringing it up. He scooted closer to them as he showed them the hedgehog on his shoulder.

“Do you know where this came from?”

Of course, the students could barely understand his question. They didn’t know the hedgehog was an extra head inside the cage and assumed that it was a normal hedgehog, so they answered:

“That’s a hedgehog, Riddle-senpai. It came from the cage they’re being kept in.”

“Of course I know that, I meant for this one specifically! It wasn’t here before.”

“M-Maybe it came from the forest and got lost?”

“It’s likely but how would it get inside the cage? That means a human probably put it in there.”

“Well… we don’t know.”

Riddle let out a sigh, trying to keep it together. It was going to be hard for him to find the culprit so he thought, just for a second, that maybe he should just let it stay inside the dorm. It wasn’t as if the world would end if he did, after all. But something deep inside his guts told him that he shouldn’t let go of this so easily. He dismissed the students and went to his room as he picked you up from his shoulder and into his palms.

“Where in the world did you come from…?” He brought you closer to his face and you felt like your heart was about to stop. His eyes widened as he made a sudden discovery. Magic? He felt the faintest bit of magic coming from you and that was enough to tell him that he should get to the bottom of this. But first—he needed an afternoon snack inside his room. After all, a queen should never make do without tea and snacks.

There was nothing more relaxing than having his favourite blend of tea in the afternoon accompanied by little snacks and biscuits that were served in little platters and teacups adorned with rose designs. It was to be expected as he was stuck in a dorm that was founded by the Queen of Hearts, it wasn't as if Riddle minded though—in fact, he grew fond of it. Daintily, he picked up his fork and took a small piece of his strawberry tart before putting it inside his mouth. Relishing in the burst of flavours that bloomed inside his mouth before turning his gaze to the small creature crawling on the table.

If you were already nervous back then, you didn't know how much more nervous you are now. You felt bad for feeling like you're deceiving him but at the same time, it wasn't as if you had a choice at all! Pushed into this seemingly hopeless situation, you wondered what would happen if somehow you transformed back into your original body right now. You shook your head and made yourself stray away from those thoughts—they never tend to end well once you think about them.

You tried distracting yourself by looking around the table and a certain snack caught your eye. You slowly made your way to it, your little feet pitter-pattering against the wooden material. Strawberry shortcake. Surely you were a tiny bit hungry after everything that occurred and not once did you get the chance to sit down and eat since you refused to eat the same food the other hedgehogs in the cage ate. You couldn’t help but look longingly at the small platter.

Riddle stopped halfway when he was about to take another bite out of his tart as he caught sight of you. Now, he wasn’t well-versed in the language of hedgehogs but it didn’t take an idiot to realize that you were hungry. He was a sucker for the rules of the Queen of Hearts but he wasn’t heartless. There was no harm in feeding you a little bit of that cake, right?

“Hm,” he contemplated for a split second, “just one small piece, okay?”

He took a small piece with his fork and nudged it towards you, expecting you to eat it. It took you a few seconds to understand what’s going on. Riddle, of all people, was feeding you. You didn’t know if you should be happy or not since you were in your hedgehog form but once you thought about it—didn’t you say earlier that it must be nice being a hedgehog spoiled by Riddle? Did the Great Seven up above hear you and decided to grant your wish?

Nonetheless, you took this as an opportunity. Who knows when you’ll get this close to Riddle ever again. You tasted the cake, eyes lighting up as you felt the sweetness of the frosting spread inside your mouth. You quickly took another bite until you finished everything with a content look. Riddle propped his elbow against the table and rested his chin on the center of his palm, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"...Somehow you remind me of a certain person." Riddle suddenly spoke up, his tone wary as he squinted at your figure. Your actions suddenly became more languid as you realized that perhaps the root of his suspicion was because of your erratic movements.

Surely he doesn't know it's me, right…!?

"(Y/N)," you froze up. "You remind me of them for some reason."

You went through the possible list of reasons how he came to that conclusion inside your head as you felt your heartbeat beat faster. For some reason, this whole scenario felt like it came straight out of a horror film. Out of all the names he could’ve said, he chose to say yours. The panic subsided as you suddenly grew curious about what exactly reminded him of you.

There was the slightest, smallest, unlikely chance that it was because he liked you but that was too far-fetched, right? Your imagination was going wild and unknowingly, you let out a small squeak. Riddle chuckled at the sudden sound, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. He stopped to think for a moment, he was alone, right? There was no one else in the room but the hedgehog and him, right? He took a deep breath.

“Speaking of them, something has been on my mind right lately… and it’s bothering me to no end.” He started, a downcast expression was on his face and you couldn’t help but worry. Did you perhaps do something to upset him? The thought itself made you panic inside. You couldn’t help but scoot away from him a little.

“I think I like them.”

What.

WHAT!?

You wondered if turning into a hedgehog made your hearing worsen or Riddle just made a mistake. There was no way what you heard was right, right? But, even then, Riddle had a slightest tint of pink spreading on his face as he looked down in slight embarrassment. It was hard to believe that he didn’t mean it or that he made a mistake in what he said. You felt your heart explode at the sudden realization and discovery.

“But the problem is that I think they’re avoiding me. I’m a bit afraid that they don’t like me,” Riddle sighed, “not a lot of people like me after all.”

“That’s not true!” is what you wanted to say had it not been for the fact that you can’t. But as they always say—actions speak louder than words. You scooted closer to his hand on the table and placed one of your front paws over his hand, hoping that he would take it as a form of reassurance. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden gesture, surprised that maybe the hedgehog understood his feelings and tried comforting him.

“Eh, you’re full of surprises aren’t you? Did you actually understand what I said?”

Without thinking it through, you nodded.

“Ah-! You really do… that’s strange. But anyway, thank you for your reassurance. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to confess b-but that’s not important right now, I need to find out where you came from.” Riddle urged you to go to the palm of his hand and you complied with no complaints. He lifted you until you were at eye-level with him.

“Let’s continue looking, shall we?” Before he let you go, he placed a kiss on your head as a sign of endearment. You swore you were about to let out another squeak until a cloud of smoke suddenly appeared from nowhere and you felt your body get bigger as you closed your eyes shut.

You wrapped your arms around Riddle’s neck so as not to fall and you felt his arms go under your shoulders and knees as he let out a surprised noise—realizing he was carrying you when the smoke thinned out. His eyes widened in surprise and his face was as red as his face when he looked at the person he was carrying. There was no way. No absolute way this was happening to him.

You stared at him nervously, face red as you violently wondered why the spell suddenly went undone. Trey never mentioned anything about a kiss being able to undo it so why…!? Countless questions took over your mind but there was only one thing you could focus on right now.

What do I do now?

“Ahaha… Hi Riddle…” Nervously, you started.

“Y-Y-You…”

“It’s me, (Y/N)...!” You had the feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

“M-My confession…”

“Oh yeah, about that I—”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!”

Extra:

"E-Eh!? That came from Riddle-senpai's room right now. Do you think he's okay?" A random student asked the person beside them, crossing their arms as a pensive expression took over their face.

"Hmm, do you think we should check? Or tell Trey-senpai?" The other suggested. But as soon as Trey's name was uttered, he emerged from the hall with a satisfied grin on his face—as if he accomplished something great.

"Don't worry about Riddle, he's just having a little bit of fun with someone right now." He chuckled, not doing well to ease the students' worries.

"Trey-senpai...? Oh, he's gone. What do you think he meant by that?"

[thekisforkeats]

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned. 

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon���s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

[pokemoncreepypasta]

Fallen Leaf (Part 1)

[STORY SOURCE]

[Note: Due to the sheer size of this story and its image count, this story has been cut into two parts.]

I'm an old Pokémon fan who's been into the games since around Gen 3, particularly LeafGreen and FireRed.

I've played the other iterations of Kanto, though. I got Yellow version as a hand-me-down first, but soon after, my heart replaced it with the shiny new GBA remake.

Between the two, I really feel like the Kanto experience peaked at LeafGreen and FireRed. Updated graphics, countless bug fixes, an entire postgame... But most importantly, I think, was the inclusion of a girl character option.

I remember feeling a little frustrated as a kid that Yellow didn't let me play as a girl. That's why I was so happy when I could finally play as someone who looked like me, it made me feel like I could really throw myself into the world of Pokémon.

Recently, I'd grown bored with my 3DS Pokémon games and wanted to relive the magical experience of Kanto and Johto all over again. I didn't want to reset my old childhood games, though, so I turned to the wonders of eBay. Conveniently, someone was selling FireRed and HeartGold in a lot together for really, really cheap.

Of course I was suspicious; the seller seemed to have made an eBay account JUST to sell these carts, and authentic carts were obviously worth way more.

But since I just wanted to briefly play through for nostalgia, I decided getting a couple bootlegs was no skin off my nose.

And boy did I ever get an interesting pair of bootlegs.

Starting with the FireRed. Or should I say, LeafGreen.

At the time, I thought it was a shoddy bootlegging mix-up, but the contents of the game inside proved it was very intentional.

Judging from the lack of a player name, the unreal amount of playtime, and perfect 150 Pokédex, this game was clearly hacked. Intrigued, though, I booted up the game to see what kind of Pokémon the seller left behind for me to play around with.

The game started up in my humble home standing in the same tile as the beginning of the game. But I noticed my character was staring straight at me rather than facing the TV as she would normally.

My name was totally absent from the menu too, showing as a blank space. Pressing the A button did nothing to open it.

Not to mention the strangeness of having a Pokédex, but no Pokémon. Despite this, the Kanto Pokédex was totally full.

If I wasn't sure about this being a fake, hacked game, this sealed the deal for me right away. But I thought, whatever, I'll just go to Oak's lab and get a starter anyways.

First I wanted to pick up the Potion from my PC if it was still there, but the PC wouldn't turn on.

"It looks like it hasn't been used in a long time..." 

Instead it displayed this text, which told me the seller didn't just hack my Pokédex, but the entire game's ROM.

Curious, I checked some other objects to see what else had been changed.

"Whose clothes are these?"

It was clear that this hacker was trying to tell a story, and it had officially caught my interest.

I went downstairs to check the TV, since I knew it was the one place where the narration was in first person.

"It's the end of the movie. The girl with pigtails is tapping her heels together to go home."

"... Why can't I do that, too?"

It left me with a really sad feeling, like I was in a place that wasn't my home. Wasn't this my house?

"MOM: ... ... ... ... ..."

I talked to my mom, but no matter which direction I spoke to her from, she wouldn't face me. It was like she was totally ignoring me.

"Someone's house" I stepped outside to see that even my mailbox didn't want to acknowledge me.

"OAK: ... ... ... ... ..."

Oak wasn't any better than my mom was.

It looked like two Pokémon were already taken, or maybe the hacker intentionally only left one behind.

"You received NOTHING."

Ouch. Oak really was giving me the cold shoulder, wasn't he?

But whatever I took off of his desk must have been some kind of Pokémon, since it unlocked that part of my menu.

Or maybe it really was nothing. However, pressing the A button opened the menu as if a Pokémon was there.

Selecting the summary took me to my trainer card instead, startling me.  Her face was scribbled out, and her name was replaced with "WHO?"

I hastily mashed B and decided to read the mail instead, though it was just as unpleasant to look at.

"IS THIS WHAT IT'S LIKE TO DISAPPEAR?"

Even without a Pokémon, I was free to explore outside Pallet Town, since Professor Oak didn't care to stop me.  

Though, even the wild Pokémon's behavior was off. Their sprites were flipped, as if even THEY refused to look at me.

"Wild RATTATA failed to see you."

"Wild RATTATA fled!" Every time the wild Pokémon would fail to see me, then run away and end the battle automatically. Thankfully, the encounter rate seemed incredibly low, so it only happened once in a while.

I figured that was still going to get annoying eventually, though, so I stopped by the PokéMart for some Repels.

Unfortunately, it wasn't just the folks back home who refused to speak to me, but every NPC. This made things like the PokéMart and Pokémon Center unusable.

Of course, I wasn't going to give up hope yet. If this hacker was going through the work of changing every NPC's text to silence, it wouldn't make for an interesting hack.

It had to have some purpose, I just needed to look for it. If people wouldn't talk, maybe the flavor text for the objects would give some insight.

"WHO DID THIS TO ME"

The questionnaire in the PokéMart had a message filled out. Someone supposedly caused this, leaving me to be ignored by everyone and everything, but who?

I decided to take a peek inside the local Gym to see if anything had changed. Despite being in a post-Giovanni state, the game acted as if I hadn't won the Gym at all.

"... Where is your name?"

It even acknowledged this.

"BLUE: ... ... ... ... ..."

I kept snooping around the Gym to see if Giovanni was present, but was surprised to see my rival, Blue, standing there.

I started to wonder if maybe this hack took place sometime between FRLG and HGSS.

I ended up discovering by accident that I could walk through roadblocks like the trees, as if I was some sort of ghost/ It made for a leisurely stroll through Kanto, I guess.

Unfortunately, my efforts to look for unique text was mostly in vain, since a lot of the TVs and shelves had the same text as before...

However, I did still manage to find one more instance that stood out from the rest.

"It's the script. Peeked at the ending..."

"... ... ... ... ..."

"You're not in it." 

 In Game Freak's development room, the plot took a turn for the meta.

The computer mentions an ending without me in it. But why? What horrible fate awaited me?

Well, with no other leads or notable differences, I spent a ridiculous amount of time wandering and brainstorming, until I realized I could use my ghostly walking to cross water as well.                          

If normal NPCs wouldn't talk to me, what would this game do if I was forced to fight against the Elite Four? But it seems the hacker thought of this too, because somebody stood in my way.

None other than the Champion Red himself.

"... ... ... ... ..."

I spoke to him, and I thought he was just going to give me the same silent treatment everyone else had.

But suddenly, the screen flickered to black for a couple frames, and when it was over, Red was standing in my spot.

Confused, I walked around for a moment, realizing I was now playing as him. I opened up the menu to see what had changed.

There he was, confidently posing as if he was blissfully unaware of what he just witnessed.

Red had his whole team with him, whose moves were all about the same as they were in GSC.

Despite saying they belonged to Red, it also said I had only "apparently" met them. They all had the same nature, Quiet. I thought Red's Pokémon were just giving me the same silent treatment as everyone else, but that proved not to be the case.

In fact, every NPC was suddenly talking to me.

Not just that, but all the unique flavor text was back to normal, too. Everything I just witnessed was no longer there. It was like the hacking had gone away, and I just had a totally normal cartridge.

Well... Except for one thing.

Hoping I could still bring the hacked text back, I tried resetting, only to see my save file overwritten with Red's. So I decided to start a new game, hoping that choosing the girl option would retrigger the hack.

However, to my dismay, I wasn't given a choice. It led me straight to naming Red, and that was it. It was just like the good old days of Generation 1.

I figured that was all there was to the hack, which left me empty and disappointed. It must have been a prelude for what was to come, though.

This was only half of the story.

[buckybarnesandmarvel]

Jumping Universes

Chapter 6

Pairings: Bucky x f!Reader

Warnings: Each chapter will have its own warnings.

For this chapter: Fluff, Cursing, Mentions of sex, ANGST

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N lives in the real world (our world). She has loved the Marvel for as long as she could remember. Suddenly, when a universe jumping experiment from the 1900s is unearthed, Y/N is one of the billions to volunteer. After miraculously securing a place, Y/N trains for years, non-stop. When she finally gets her chance and it all goes wrong will she be able to adapt or will it all come crashing down?

A/N: Chapter 6. I’m posting a lot today hehe. Enjoy! :)

************************************************************************

“Wait. You. And Bucky?” Wanda inquired.

“Wanda, I thought you could read minds,” you laughed.

“Yeah, but I try not to use it unless I have to. So tell me about you and Bucky.”

“There is nothing going on between me and Bucky!” You insisted.

“Not true.” You glared at Nat as she interrupted. Wanda focused her attention to her and you sighed, knowing that sooner or later it would come out. Anyway, it was only Wanda. “Y/N has had a thing for Bucky, even before she arrived, so I am gonna get them together.”

“Nat! I told you! He is way out of my league!”

“Um, not true. If anything I’d say you are out of his league.”

“I agree. Have you seen yourself?!” Wanda quipped. “Exactly, and that is why I’m going to help Nat. Plus, I think it’ll be good for Buck.”

Before you could complain, Wanda hooked her arm in the nook of you elbow and guided you out of the room towards the party, Nat in tow.

The party was a classic Tony Stark party, with loads of random people drinking, chatting, laughing, talking and doing whatever the hell they feel like doing. The lights were dark blue, both darkening and illuminating the room. The music was loud but not loud enough to make your head pound. You could see Tony, Sam, Steve, Bucky, Vision and Thor by the bar, arguing (no surprise there) about something or the other, Bucky and Vision on the side looking bored.

Wanda guided you to them as they waved towards you guys. Nat went to stand with Steve and Wanda went to her lover. You were (conveniently) placed next to Bucky who was still staring down at his drink.

“Hey, Y/N, how do like the party?” Tony asked from opposite you.

“Um, well, it’s very... you.”

The others burst out in boisterous while Thor clapped Tony on the back, but Tony looked pleased.

“I'll take that as a compliment.” He smiled smugly and everyone returned to their chatter and you turned to Bucky.

“Hey, Bucky.” You greeted him cheerfully once you had ordered a drink from the bar and he looked up, startled. He gave you a shameless once-over, a smirk tugging on his face.

“Hey, doll. You look good.”

“Thank you. So do you.” You smiled at him.

It was true. He had actually put in some effort, his beard now a stubble and his chocolate locks pulled back in a bun at the nape of his neck, a few odd strands falling and framing his face. He was wearing a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and black slacks. Damn, he looked good.

You must have been staring as he spoke up, “Like what you see?”

“Yup. This outfit suits you.” You replied, genuinely.

You and Bucky fell into easy conversation while refilling your drinks (Bucky with his Asgardian mead), talking about anything and everything. Before you knew it, the number of people in the room had drastically decreased while you and Bucky were lost in your own little world. Other changes, were the lingering touches and gazes, making your heart pound each time he touched you or looked at you with those baby blue eyes that could make anyone swoon.

You guys watched the others drunk dance like madmen in the middle of the floor in a comfortable silence. It was only the avengers left now. It was nice seeing this domestic side of them, away from the hero façade, living just like any other person would on a Saturday night - well, Sunday morning, now. Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t feel Bucky standing behind you, placing his hands on your hips, his warm breath sending a flutter to your core as he spoke by the shell of your ear.

“Hey, doll, wanna dance?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Sorry Bucky, but I do not dance.” 

“Aw, c’mon.” You could see the shit-eating grin he had on his face a he turned to face you, stretching out his palm. Unable to resist his puppy eyes, charm and pout, you gave in. Placing your gloved hand in his, you let him lead you to the dancefloor. He took you by your waist and pulled you flush against him, his lips ghosting over the top of your head. You rested your hands on his firm chest as you swayed in time with him. Bucky then brought his lips down to your ear where he whispered oh so quietly.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Not needing to think twice, you nodded and happily complied as you followed him out of the room, finding Nat’s eyes, on the way, sending you a wink. He led you to the elevator and as soon as the doors closed, he pushed you against the wall and kissed you fervently. You let out a breathy moan as his tongue slipped past your lips. The moment was broken when the elevator dinged, signalling you had reached your floor. You both pulled away quickly, in case anyone was waiting for the lift and you save Bucky’s gaze travel down to your swollen lips. Seeing that no one was waiting, Bucky picked you up, bridal style, as you giggled and took you to his room, where you remained in for the rest of the night.

......

You slowly woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours. The walls were dark grey and the sheets were plain white. Sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the curtain. You realised that you were naked, you clothes across the room. Hickeys adorned the side of your neck and chest and the memories from last night flooded your brain.

Bucky.

Holy shit. You slept with Bucky-fucking-Barnes.

You turned to your side but was left disappointed as Bucky wasn’t there. Maybe he’s making breakfast? Maybe he’s freshening up? Maybe...

You were pulled from your thoughts when the bathroom door opened, Bucky stepping out with a towel low on his hips. The giddy smile that graced your face,  when you saw him, quickly disappeared at the solemn look on his face.

“Hey, Buc-”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“Last night was a mistake. I’m sorry. We were both drunk and, well, you looked nice and everything. I’m sorry.”

“Bucky...”

“Don’t. Like I said, last night was a mistake. You need to leave.”

He stared at the floor while you tried to hold back your sobs, your bottom lip quivering and vision blurring. You hastily got up, slipped on your clothes from last night and rushed out, slamming the door behind you. You ran down the hall into the safety your room, locked the door and let your tears fall freely.

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Chapter 6.5 >>

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Sorry this was a bit short. Also, please don’t hate me.😅😅 :)

Tags:

@emetophilily @winterdrag0n @lostyx @stumbleonmywords​ @howlermonkey69​ @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @silentkiller2374​​ @xiernia​​ @sergntbarnes​ @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson​ @buckylokisimp  @psychoticmason​ @blithecapricorn

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - -  - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX

“I realize this is incredibly difficult,” the Nautolan Soul Healer said calmly. “But in order for us to help Obi-Wan, we need to determine the cause of his current disconnection with reality. Based on the drug panel, and convenient surveillance, we have, to the best of our ability, ruled out temporary psychosis brought on by a drug interaction.”

Cody stiffened further, not sure how to react to anything anymore. When a brother tried to end his own life, it was usually obvious why.

Sife Aerdo continued on. “There have, of course, been cases of Jedi Seers giveing into their fears of the future, or losing their sense of reality, but every case study involving such an extreme reaction was the result a gradual degradation over the course of many years. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Obi-Wan experienced a vision, and it may have impacted his breakdown to some extent. The more we know, the more successful any attempts to convince him of reality will be.”

Bant furrowed her brow in thought, trying to replay three decades of increasingly vague discussions of nightmares.

”Considering the high profile nature of his position, we cannot rule out some kind of psychological attack, perhaps even a darksider incursion.

Anakin leaned forward intently, the inside of his skull buzzing with white noise.

"All that being said, we must be prepared to treat Obi-Wan’s self harm as the  culmination of a long and quiet mental health struggle. He would not be the first in the Order to disguise such a thing with durasteel self-discipline.”

At that, Bant and Mace took a moment to release their feelings to the force, while Anakin raised his shields defensively.

Master Aerdo finally hesitated, before continuing in the same smooth tone. “I would ordinarily prefer to structure this kind of conversation quite differently- allow Obi-Wan time to share his feelings first and invite you each separately to support him in the healing process. But he’s gone from fighting sedatives and force compulsions as though the fate of the galaxy depended on it, to a self-induced coma. All while barely lucid, yet still somehow maintaining Master Class mental shielding. We need to get a better understanding of his mental landscape if we’re going to even begin the process of treatment."

It is necessary to note that everyone in that room had led, in one way or another, a somewhat miserable life. This was the main reason none of them could claim that the next five hours were the worst they had ever experienced. 

“But he’s always had terrible sleeping habits.” Anakin said hoarsely.

“Yes, but I think they got worse after Qui-Gon passed,” Bant argued, not sure what point she was making. 

“When I pointed out he couldn’t be getting more than three hours a night he told me that he could manage on meditation” Cody offered irritably.

“That’s technically true,” Mace confirmed. “If the Master in question is well-balanced otherwise”

“So its like his eating habits, crushing responsibilities, and repeated exposure to violence, then? Completely fine for a Jedi, in less it’s not, in which case it’s a major red flag?” 

“I think it would help to establish a timeline.“

Aerdo actually dredged up old mission reports, leading to the group reluctantly contacting Ashoka for her memories of Mortis.

At her Master’s insistence, she told them everything she remembered, hazy as it was, nervously elaborating on her own memories of falling. To her confusion, Master Windu all but brushed past that, assuring her that the important thing with stepping into darkness was the choice to the return to the light. Anakin bizarrely agreed with Windu. Out loud. Unnerved by the cooperation more than anything, she put her holographic foot down and demanded to know what was going on. 

Anakin took the comm-link into a separate room to speak privately.

Upon return, he informed the group (with a visibly red and puffy face) that Kit would be escorting her back from Mount Cala cleanup early, daring anyone to disagree. Windu nodded and the conversation continued on.

Together they rewatched holo-footage of Obi-Wan laughing amongst Ghost company the night before last, and debated reports from psychometric investigators who had scoured the cantina as well as Obi-Wan’s personal quarters for traces of illicit substances. Between that and another drug panel, they were finally forced to conclude that despite the timing, the alcohol at most confused Obi-Wan’s perception of a vision, or possibly simply loosened his tongue.

Bant prodded Cody to repeat every word from the holocar ride to the temple, taking furious notes. Cody was unable to stop the heat that crawled up his face.

Just when the looming horror of Obi-Wan actually preparing to intentionally die started to break over Anakin, Windu interjected.

“You don’t see what I do,” the Harun Kal said grimly. “Something galaxy-sized shattered around Obi-Wan and he didn’t break from it. The closest comparison I have is Master Yaddle’s presence when she meditated on her confinement. He’s chosen to keep going, even when, quite frankly, death would be a release. We’re missing something fundamental.”

“He said there were ‘other dark forces at work.’ Even if the fight was objectively hopeless... there’s no way he would choose to die because of it!” Anakin agreed vehemently, shaking off morbid fears.

“But he did choose to die.” Cody said quietly. And the wind went out of Anakin’s sails.

“Lets go back.”

Anakin gritted his teeth as they picked apart everything ‘unusual’ Obi-Wan had said and done leading up to his visit with Bant.

“What exactly did he...”

“So Plo Koon was able to get a read through his shields?”

“Did he have anything to eat?”

“How did that compare to...”

“When he's mentioned things in the future...did it seem good or bad to you?” Bant asked.

“Bad.” Cody and Anakin said in unison. Remembering the trip to the temple Cody spoke again, “Definitely bad.”

“Right. When we were talking he sometimes used the wrong tenses for things, people. I confronted him on not knowing ‘when’ he was after Knight Skywalker left. He told me that he knew what was real, but he was “enjoying not fully living in the moment” he also said that he intended to “wake up”

“Enjoying? That’s the exact word he used?” Cody asked incredulous. 

“He did seem...mostly happy yesterday. Giddy, at points.” Anakin said, slumping in on himself.

Bant looked at her notes once more before addressing the group.

“This isn’t vision psychosis in any manner I’ve heard of before...but I think I might have a theory. He used to have intense visions when we were kids; plenty of us did sometimes, but Obi-Wan would be unable to sleep after. What terrified him more than anything was the uncertainty that he might make the wrong choice- even when the vision was about something good, or neutral. His visions gradually stopped coming around puberty. We just had a conversation about this a few months ago- how relieved he was to only have to manage flashes of precognition. If he had a random, horrifying vision of a terrible future...suicide wouldn’t be his reaction. It’s too final.”

“Even if he blamed himself for what he saw coming?” Mace asked.

“Especially if he blamed himself.” Bant said. 

“What’s your theory?” Aerdo prodded.

“What if...what if he was telling the truth when he said he could separate out what was real and what was not? What if there was no distortion or blurring between now and then? What if he was just wrong about which was which?”

“That...would be a very extreme and abnormal manifestation of force-induced psychosis. He has training in distinguishing reality from visions. The continued presence of his mental shielding means that the fabric of his mind can’t be so horrifically collapsed in on itself.” 

“What if the vision was actually that realistic?” Bant said, pushing back against the soul healer. “So detailed and vivid that it effectively was a reality in itself, and everything else, all of us...”

“Were just memories” Anakin finished. “It would...actually explain pretty much everything. You said he wanted to wake up and when...when I found him.” He stopped, swallowing. “When I found him, he argued with me...what if he wasn’t trying to hurt himself? If you’re right...that would mean I found him trying to get back to reality.”

“It could explain his behavior in the halls...his desperation to wake...” Sife mused “But it runs counter to every other experience I’ve had with those managing prophetic visions. Master Windu, could that explain the shatterpoints you saw?”

“I’m not certain. It would have to have been extraordinarily real to create the echos of Shattering I witnessed. I don’t know if that depth of vision has occurred before, but then again, many things are possible in the force.”

“You really think he might have been...trying to wake up from dream? By killing himself?!” Cody asked incredulous.

“If that ends up being what happened I am going to give him such shit. That is the worst way to end a vision.” Anakin replied.

“Yes. It is.” Bant said pointedly. “That’s why it’s a last resort, after every other attempt to wake fails.” 

They all sat in silence, processing various implications. Cody was unnerved by another terrifying insight into force powers, as well as the idea that the General might vividly remember Cody being inexplicably mind-controlled into trying to kill him. Anakin was trying to understand what this would mean for them, and the conversations he had thought they had had. Did...any of it count, if he thought he was offering it to a hallucination?

“Alright, this is a valuable working idea, but let’s make sure to examine everything with an open mind before we draw any more conclusions. Anakin, what happened after you left the healers office?”

Obi-Wan’s critique of the practicalities of visiting a soul healer could be and was interpreted multiple ways. The incongruity of peacekeepers in war sparked a rehash of earlier discussion. More apologies. Self identifying as ‘crazy’ inspired new debate, especially in the context of the new theory. 

“When I saw him enter the fountain room I assumed he had had a brutal run-in with  dark force user.” Windu explained. “Based on everything we’ve gone over, I don’t understand when...but some of the more insidious sith compulsions work by taking whatever small anger or hurt you feel and magnifying them until they consume you. If Obi-Wan was already experiencing self loathing...”

Cody sucked in a breath. “Then a Sith mind suggestion would bring him to commit suicide. It...sounds like something he might do, if he was partially in control. Take the blow rather than let himself be used as a weapon against anyone else, even his worst enemy.”

“Hells, it could have been an even vaguer compulsion, driving him to attack the person he hates the most,” Bant added darkly.

Anakin buried his head in his hands, trying to hold it together. He couldn’t afford to lose control or get angry. Hells, getting angry at Obi-Wan for ‘failing him’ when in pain could be the reason Obi-Wan was currently in the healing halls. The man said he loved him unconditionally, then practically had a breakdown over how much Anakin pushed that unconditional love to the breaking point, then killed himself. How was he supposed to-

“Anakin? Are you alright to continue?” someone said.

“Yes. No. There’s more I have to tell you...I don’t know if it will help but - it was hurting Obi-Wan...I...”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time. What happened after you left Mace?”

Apparently even Cody somehow knew more about Bruck Chun than Anakin. Master Windu and Eerin told different sides of the same sad story, which spiraled back into a conversation about Obi-Wan’s inadequacy issues, which somehow devolved into a long rant about Qui-Gon Jinn that Master Windu had apparently been holding back for years. 

“My apologies.” He said afterwards, clearing his throat as the group stared, taken aback. “Old grievances. Go on Anakin, what did happened after you got to the ‘secret spot.’”

“He...was skirting around whatever was bothering him...I pushed him...told him I wanted to help...he said I couldn’t...because it was me...because of what I...”

Anakin stood up suddenly, feeling the walls of the room closing in.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I-” 

He ran out.

He turned around almost immediately, pacing in the small corridor, knowing he couldn’t leave, simply needing a minute to catch his breath.

Master Windu followed him out after a moment, not saying anything, just standing there. Watching him.

“What!” Anakin finally snapped. “What do you have to say that I don’t know already!”

“Knight Skywalker-”

“Don’t call me that! I DON’T DESERVE-” 

Anakin let out a frustrated snarl, punching a wall. The crumble of stone beneath this fist briefly made him feel better, but then he remembered Obi-Wan’s heartbroken expression in the light of an underworldly glow, and the tiny, choked sound he heard when the healers moved him and Anakin just...collapsed, falling to his knees.

Master Windu sank down gracefully beside him.

“Anakin. This isn’t about attachment issues, is it.”

“Not really, no. I mean, maybe you’ll blame attachment but it’s more about...”

“Anger.”

Anakin looked up at that, trying to regain the meditative calm he had felt for a glimmering moment yesterday, right in-between making peace in the cave and everything burning to ash. 

“You know that I have had my own struggles with anger. It is how and why I came to develop Vaapad.” 

“Yes, but you’ve Mastered your anger. And you’ve never...never given in to hate.”

A beat passed and Windu watched some of Skywalker’s familiar breaking points flicker into view. 

“You’ve done something. Something you know the Jedi won’t forgive.”

“Obi-Wan forgave me.” Anakin said, whispering. “He said that even though I couldn’t fix what I did he loved me anyway and I just needed to...to honestly regret what I did and not do it again. I told him I’d get rid of my lightsaber and I meant it and...I thought he forgave me. I was ready to go to the Council with him, come clean about everything. And then I left him alone to get dinner and when I came back...he was holding my lightsaber. My lightsaber.” 

Anakin buried his face in his hands, shuddering with creeping cold.

“I’m not going to critique your and Obi-Wan’s attachment to each other right now. I’m well aware that much of the order has turned to personal ties to maintain their stability given the ongoing horrors of war. I am, for many reasons, wary of the risks this brings us, yet it is also true that risks do not automatically mean failure. I myself have mastered my emotions in a different manner than conventional wisdom councils.” 

Windu spoke carefully. For all that he and Anakin had similar relationships with the force, they rarely saw eye to eye on any given subject. At a certain point, Mace had accepted that the volatile young man was determined to find the worst possible interpretation for anything he said. And Mace was not the order’s most patient diplomat.

“As for your crime, whatever it is, l will tell you this: Unless you choose to renounce the code and leave our number, you will be treated as a Jedi Knight, subject to our protections, as well as our judgement. You will receive appropriate mental counseling. If you are judged to be a danger to those around you, your actions will be curtailed and monitored, possibly through temporary confinement.  The Jedi do not believe in punitive measures for their own sake, but you may be required to provide restitution to those you harmed, perhaps indefinitely. 

Silence hung perilously between them. Windu watched a tremor run through the unfathomable kaleidoscopic of shatterpoints that had orbited Skywalker since he was a boy. A small one broke inward, and an attached tangle of larger, darker ones fell away, crumbling to dust. The rest faded from view, invisible for the moment. A choice had been made, some decision that closed off at least one path to the darkside.

“There’s no one to make restitutions to.”

“...You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

“Let’s go back inside- I don’t want to do this twice.”

They returned to the increasingly hated meeting room.

Anakin spoke in an outpouring of words about love and hate, about misplaced revenge and now uncertain forgiveness. When he finally finished, the room was deathly silent.

The three Jedi sat quietly while Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess this is why Jedi have the no attachment rule, huh? I admit I never really got it, but I suppose even if I-”

Bant abruptly lunged up, fumbling to bring her lightsaber to Anakin’s neck. Everyone jumped to their feet, except for Anakin, who stared at Bant with a wretched expression.

“MASTER EERIN! This is not-”

“Did you do it?” she asked, ignoring the Master of the Order.

“Bant!”

“It was my first thought after I saw him. We all rushed in expecting a fight, or a bomb, only to find you, insane, and him with a hole next to his heart. I didn’t want to believe it of course, but you’ve always had a violent streak that Obi-Wan, force help him, couldn’t quite soothe away. A fight gone wrong. Master Windu said it was suicide, and I believed him, and I’ve been trying to make sense of that ever since. But Mace found you after, didn’t he? After you felt guilty? Did you think he was going to turn on you?”

“Bant Eerin, you are dangerously-”

“No.” Anakin whispered.

“Obviously I might be why. But I didn’t- I couldn’t. I know I’m not good but I can’t even imagine- holding a saber against him like that. Kriff, do you not get how much I can’t handle losing people I love? I was insane when you saw me because I saw someone trying to kill Obi-Wan and I couldn’t even fight them.”  

Bant held his gaze for several lingering seconds, deactivated her saber and dropping it with a clatter. They stared at each other, breathing heavily and not blinking. She returned to her seat, moving jerkily. “I apologize Knight Skywalker. That was uncalled for.” 

“I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your shoes” he responded lowly. Bant made a tiny, unintelligible noise in reply. 

Cody collapsed back into his chair, holstering his blaster.  “Alright then...so after you finished sitting in the fountain room...what happened next?”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re handling Anakin’s confession somewhat dispassionately. We’re simply surprised.” Mace said slowly, returning to his seat at the same time as Master Aerdo fell into theirs.

Cody shifted uncomfortably. “The vod were trained in a wide range of enemy suppression tactics. While we’re extremely glad the Jedi have never asked us to employ them, I’m not...unfamiliar with this scale of deliberate slaughter. At least in the hypothetical, sir.”

“I see.” Aerdo said. “That is a valuable insight to have, thank you. Knight Skywalker-”

“Just...call me Anakin. Or Skywalker.”

“Anakin. When did this happen?”

“About two years ago, immediately before the First Battle of Geonosis.”

“And have you had any similar experiences with giving into the darkside since?” they asked placidly.

“I don’t think so but...we went to war the next day and....I don’t know if I’ve stopped fighting since it- since I did what I did.”

“Hmm. Anakin, would you mind stepping outside the room and waiting in the corridor for a moment please?” 

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and quietly walked out the door while the Masters decided his fate. He leaned back against a wall, desperately wanting to see Padme. 

To his surprise, the door opened barely a few minutes later, and he was politely invited back in.

“Anakin.” Master Windu spoke. “Thank you for telling us this. It’s an important insight into Obi-Wan’s feelings right now, and I recognize that you could have kept it a secret. As Head of the Order, and with the advice of a Senior Soul Healer, I have made a decision. You will be assigned a personal soul healer, who you will start seeing tomorrow. Commander Cody pointed out that over nearly two years of continuous warfare, you have maintained some of the the lowest trooper casualty units of any division, by a significant margin if we evaluate based on mission risk level. Your civilian and enemy casualties will be reviewed, but even considering constant war, since your massacre of the Tuskens, you have clearly managed to at least... direct your violence away from the innocent. We do not consider you a threat to the inhabitants of the world. For the time being, I see no real benefit to limiting or tracking your behavior within the temple or on planet, but you are barred from leaving orbit. I have decided to delay a full reckoning before the council until such time that your former Master is well enough to provide his own opinion. Give me just cause, and I will have you confined to a force-suppressing cell. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, bowing in acknowledgment. All things considered, it was...honestly better than he expected.

“Now, as Cody” Windu paused. “My apologies, as the Commander was saying-” 

“Cody’s fine, sir” Cody said, wrung out in a way different from anything Kamino had trained him for.

“...I think we can all consider ourselves on a first name basis at this point.” Bant said with a snort. She paused. “That includes you Anakin. I really don’t know how to handle what you did but kark it, I don’t want to hate you. For myself.”

Everyone nodded.

“As Cody was saying, what happened next?”

Peace. Comfort. Hunger. A warning in the force...

-

“I tried to pull the saber back but his finger was already on the igniter...” 

“You probably saved his life. Even a second later-”

“I know, that’s almost the worst part.”

-

“-his neck”

“Why would he change weapons?”

“What if-”

-

“He said what to you and Healer Che?”

“That has to support the detailed vision idea, think about-”

“I’m sorry, Emperor?”

-

“I think we’re done.”

Anakin stared blankly at Sife. “But we didn’t figure anything out.”

“Not conclusively, but we’re unlikely to make any more progress, you’ve given me enough information to preform a meaningful meditative scan, or guide a conversation, should Obi-Wan wake, or navigate through his mind, should we decide to make a more decisive attempt at his shields.”

“Master Aerdo... I leave the final judgement up to you, but I strongly urge you to make a more decisive attempt. I am more convinced now than I was...” Mace glanced at the chronometer “five hours ago that this was motivated by a specific, external stimuli, likely dark. Do you disagree?”

“No.” they said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to underestimate how much underlying factors might have contributed to his response to stimuli, including underlying factors that none of you were aware of.”

The Nautolan Soul Healer stood up, tucking their hands into their sleeves to address the room with classical Jedi serenity. It was a little irritating.

“In any case, we all need to sleep, eat, and meditate. Master Eerin, you have the rest of the day off, I've cleared it with Master Che already. Master Windu, I leave the final judgement up to you, and I am aware that your duties as Master of the Order are unceasing, but I urge you to take some time to center yourself before returning to the council. Commander Cody, I would be more than willing to arrange soul healing for you or any of the Vod, please let me know. Anakin, you will receive a comm later today with further details on your future healing sessions. 

They bowed low, then glided out the door.

Bant stood next, bowed individually to each soul, and sped walked out.

Commander Cody cleared his throat awkwardly, “Mace- what should I tell the troops? We’re supposed to have command briefings later tonight.”

“If anyone asks about General Kenobi, tell them its classified.” I’ll schedule a briefing on the subject. Now go find Captain Rex and take care of yourself, that’s an order.”

Cody saluted, first to the high General, then to Anakin.

Finally it was just Mace and Anakin.

“Is there anyone who you trust who I can call to stay with you.” Master Windu asked.

“I can manage on my own” Anakin replied, not willing to give the Master of the Order anything else he could use against him, even after everything.

Master Windu held back a sigh.

He continued once more, making a deliberate attempt to soften his tone. “Anakin- I know we’ve had our differences, but this is not a trick, nor a trap. You’ve suffered a series of great shocks in the last 24 hours and handled them with immense maturity. I myself am struggling to deal with the emotional fallout.”

Anakin looked up at that, surprised. He didn’t seem to be struggling, but maybe that was what made him a good Jedi Master...

“As I told you before, I am not going to begrudge you the comfort of attachment. I’m rather convinced it would do you more harm than good at this point. I don’t want you flying right now, and you don’t have to be alone. I hope we have come to a better understanding today, but I doubt my presence is suddenly a comfort, though please correct me if I’m wrong. Now is there someone I can call?”

-

Padme ended her call with Master Windu extremely discomfited. She had barely heard from Anakin since he ran out on her the night before last to take care of an apparently extremely drunk Obi-Wan. He had messaged her a few times that night, promising to make it up to her, but had been comm-silent since. She had been starting to get worried, and now the Master of the Order was asking her to pick him up from the temple. Fortunately, she had already cleared most of her meetings for the week well in advance (Courascant leave usually meant THEM time, not that she was jealous of Obi-Wan, of course).

The speeder ride back from the temple was silent. All Anakin would say was that he would explain everything once they were in ‘a secure location.’ 

The door to the apartment had scarcely closed behind them when Anakin fell into her arms, shaking.

“Anakin, talk to me love, what’s wrong?” She gently guided him to the couch, arranging him so she could hold him protectively.

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

She let out a harsh gasp, “No! He can’t have, he would never-” 

“I got to him in time, but Padme... he was holding a lightsaber to his heart. It was...really close” He burrowed deeper into the folds of her dress, and she gripped him fiercely.

“Oh gods, is he-”

“He’s physically healing, but he’s still...not all there. I spent all of today locked in a room, trying to figure out if it was a Sith Attack, or an insane vision, or..or me”

“Anakin! What do you mean ‘me’ - Obi-Wan loves you, you-”

“I know.” Anakin interrupted her again, knowing he was being unfair; he was just too exhausted to be patient.

“He told me loved me. He...he...found out about what I did to the Tusken village, You should have seen his face, Padme, he was horrified, but he still told me he loved me, and he was willing to forgive me, even though he shouldn’t”

“Of course he forgave you,” Padme whispered. “You’re not a monster, Anakin, I know you would never do something like that again.”

"And then after we talked, I left him alone and he-” Anakin choked out into her dress.

Tears ran down her face, heart breaking. “That’s- that’s horrible. Anakin...it must have have been a attack, Obi-Wan wouldn’t do that.” she said urgently.

He pulled away, horrified. “I made you cry. I made Obi-Wan cry too. I’m sorry- Padme please, promise me you won’t-”

She grabbed the sides of his head. 

Her nails bit into the soft skin behind his ears as she pulled him down so they were face-to-face, vowing, “Never. I swear by the force itself, I will never choose death over life.”

He let out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Now you,” she demanded

“As long as I have anyone to live for, I swear by the force, I will never choose death over life.”

She pulled him the rest of the way in for a bruising kiss. He lifted her, and they desperately clung at one another as he carried her to bed. They continued like that, clinging and grasping, until exhaustion carried him to sleep. She pulled the covers over top them both and curled around him defensively as the day slowly faded away.

Part XI

[harrysweasleys]

save me a dance // n.l.

summary: Hi!! Could I please request a Neville x Slytherin! Reader? She has a kind soul and became friends with Hermione (who’s the only person that knows about her crush on Neville), but she kept her distance because she knew about what happened to his parents. She goes to the Yule ball with another Slytherin that eventually ditched her, so she sneaks into the kitchens and hangs out with house elves until Neville comes by (knowing that she always hung out with them when she felt sad) and he confesses ^^

warnings: very brief mention of unwanted sexual advances if you squint, mentions of food

word count: 5k

a/n: my first neville fic!!! i’m so excited for you all to read it, i had so much fun writing it :)

[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other platform]

For what felt like the hundredth time, you woke up to the same view; your Yule Ball dress hanging loosely over the four poster bed, the sunlight streaming through the fabric and onto your chunky bed sheets.

The dress was quite stunning, but Godric, did you dread wearing it. You didn’t exactly feel like dancing the night away alongside some Slytherin bloke while you looked around at all the happy couples, wishing ever so desperately that that could have been you. That you could be the one dancing the night away with the person who had captured your heart effortlessly.

Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t exactly fallen into place. Hermione had done her best to help you out in getting him to ask you, but you ended up being put on the spot when a Slytherin boy named Jasper had asked you during Transfigurations. So, you had said yes, but deep down, that regret was starting to multiply by the second.

You let out a groan, tossed your head back against the pillow, and lifted the warm comforter off of your body. The fireplace in the centre of the room was still crackling away, but within the stone walls of the castle, the cold seemed to never fully fade.

So you threw on your house sweater, your scarf, robe, and a pair of trousers, before heading down to start the day. The snow was accumulating rather quickly outside as Christmas drew nearer, rendering you quite glad that you brought your scarf.

“At least you’re prepared,” Hermione mumbled as the two of you made your way to Divinations, “It’s always freezing in Professor Trewlaney’s room! Oh, how I wish I could have brought mine. Rather silly of me.”

You chuckled, keeping your eyes on the long winding staircase as you responded to her, “Not to worry, I’m sure Ron has a sweater you can borrow.”

Though you weren’t facing her, you could practically feel her eye roll as she scoffed, “Very funny. Such a clever idea. You really are filled with those.”

“I’m just saying,” you turned back to face her quickly before pulling down the ladder to the Divination classroom, “I’m sure he’d think you look amazing in it. Isn’t that what guys like? When their girlfriends wear their clothing?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she shushed you as you climbed up, “Be quiet!”

You apologized with a laugh as you climbed into the classroom and made your way to your usual seat at the front by the window, Hermione coming over to join you. Harry and Ron were seated not too far away, but that didn’t really matter to you. From across the class, you spotted Neville.

He was accompanied by Seamus — who seemed quite interested in the tablecloth at the moment — but you so wished that you could be the one sitting across from him.

His vest hung loosely against his body and his dark hair was littering his forehead, eyes scrunched shut as he let out a yawn. As he opened them, you noticed they darted in your direction before snapping away.

You felt a frown form on your lips. Why did he look away so fast? Instinctively, you raised a hand to the top of your head to check if there was anything in your hair.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she dug through her bag, placing the heavy Divinations book on top of the circular table. The book, with its golden lettering, seemed to twinkle under the pink hues of the morning sky.

You shrugged, “Nothing.”

Her eyes followed to where you had previously been looking, and she let out a sigh, “Relax. You look wonderful. There’s nothing to fix.”

You sulked back into your chair, “Hermione, he asked Ginny to the ball. Don’t try to continue your matchmaking.”

She leaned forward on the table, pushing her thick hair behind her shoulder, “Doesn’t mean you don’t stand a chance. Look, I like Ginny, but maybe they’re going as friends. Like you and Jasper.”

“I think Jasper has more than friendship on his mind,” you muttered under your breath, thinking back to the way his hands lingered on your lower back a little too long after you agreed to be his date.

She gave you a sympathetic glance, opening her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Trewlaney announcing her presence. The class began shortly after, and you spent the time reading Hermione’s palm and deciphering what your own dreams meant.

According to the textbook, you were going to stumble upon a lot of money as well as possibly fall down a sewer within the next week. Nothing new, really. It was better than Harry’s, who once again, was told he was doomed for death in the coming months.

As the class ended, you stuffed the books and parchment into your backpack and thanked Trelawney for the lesson, following Hermione out of the room. As you made your way to the ladder, you spotted a little red ball on the ground.

You crouched to pick it up, immediately recognizing it as Neville’s remembrall. How oddly convenient that it land right at your feet.

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered as you turned to hand it to him, fingers brushing against his as you placed it in his palm, “This thing likes to try and escape.”

You grinned at him, “You should keep it safe in your dorm.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady as you spoke to him, which was odd, really. Why did you always become so nervous around Neville, who was one of the shyest, kindest people you’d ever met? Crushes were quite strange.

He gave you a small smile and a shrug, “I like to carry it on me. It’s from my nan. I don’t want to leave it behind.”

Your chest felt like it was going to swell at his words, “That’s really sweet. I’m sure she appreciates that you care for it so much.”

As you turned back to face the ladder, Hermione gave you a quick wink and a thumbs up before darting away with Harry and Ron, clearly insinuating that you should walk with Neville. You mentally scolded her before making your way to it, Neville not far behind.

“She does,” he said, fondness clear in his voice, “It’s not like I get anything from my parents, so I cherish anything I get from my family in general.”

Your heart sunk in your chest. Neville had always been very closed off when talking about his family — especially his parents — so the way he mentioned them so casually had you doubting what to say next. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by continuing the topic, nor did you want to brush it off like it was nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, facing him once the two of you began going down the spiral staircase, “I can imagine it’s difficult. But your nan clearly cares a lot, and she’s lucky to have you.”

His ears turned slightly pink at your words and you had to fight a grin.

The next few minutes were silent until Neville once again turned to face you. There was something about him that always seemed optimistic, despite the fact that he had just spoken a bit about the difficult situation with his parents. Whether it be the smile on his face or the sparkle in his eye, you couldn’t be sure what it was. But Merlin, did you ever adore it.

“She sent me my suit for the Yule Ball, actually,” he said, a bit of a hop in his step as he said the words, “It doesn’t fit perfectly but I’m sure it’ll last the night.”

You let out a small laugh, “That’s awfully sweet of her. I’m sure you’ll look dashing.”

As you said the words, you regretted them instantly. Well, not so much regretted — you meant every syllable — but more so, you wished you could currently fall into the sewer that Trelawney had predicted you’d stumble into.

Throwing out a compliment like that was quite possibly the last thing you wanted to do. Would he react badly? Would he think you were coming onto him? Would this change things?

Were you overthinking?

The corners of his lips curled up into a shy smile and he gave you a nod and cut you short of your internal rambling, “Are you excited?”

Yeah, definitely overthinking.

You let out a sigh, trying to move past your embarrassment and continue your walk to your next class, dodging a few passing students, “Kind of. I’m excited for the music. Not so much the dancing. I’m not very good at that.”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t either. I taught myself, actually. In my room. The lads loved to make fun of that.”

The image of Neville dancing away in the cramped boys’ dorm brought a smile to your face.

“You’ve already got a step up on me, then,” you faced him, “Get ready to watch me humiliate myself on the dance floor.”

You stepped a little closer to him as a group of Ravenclaw pushed past in a rush, and Neville’s hand reached for your arm to help steady you.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling away and avoiding your gaze, “But anyways, I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think. Ginny has never danced either, so you won’t be the only one.”

You tried your best to push past the surge of jealousy that washed over you. You already knew he was going with Ginny — hell, you’d know for a while now — but it did not make it any easier to hear. Especially coming from him.

“I didn’t expect you’d ask her,” you admitted, “but I’m sure you’ll both have a wonderful time. She’ll have a good leader to help her maneuver the moves.”

You gave his shoulder a small nudge, trying to act like you weren’t drowning in your own feelings. The thought of Neville holding Ginny close to his body as they swayed to the romantic music nearly made you sick. You liked Ginny a great deal, she was such a sweet girl with a fierce attitude that you admired, but you really wished Neville had asked you instead.

“We’re just going as friends,” he said, “I was going to ask someone else but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m pretty sure Ginny was also interested in another person in the first place.”

You tried your best to hold back a sigh of relief. They were going as friends. That didn’t mean it would make it easier to see them together, but maybe you could push past the jealousy you felt about seeing them as a couple.

But then the next thing he said hit you; he wanted to ask someone else. Someone he was interested in romantically? Perhaps he actually did like someone, even if that someone wasn’t Ginny. Who could it be? And why were you so irritated? You didn’t even know them.

“Well,” you said, unsure of how to change the topic, “I’ll be looking out for you two on the dance floor.” You wanted so desperately to no longer speak of the Yule Ball. The thought of the night was now dizzying and had you feeling a little faint, to be completely honest.

It was going to be a long day.

— —

You were honestly quite surprised by the appearance of the Great Hall. Usually filled with long tables, chairs, and candles, it was now glistening like a winter wonderland. There was fake snow falling from the ceiling, but it never touched the ground. The room smelled faintly of pine trees and sweets, and you figured that there had to be at least seven Christmas trees littering the room.

To put it simply, the space was beautiful.

Music played softly from the dance floor ahead, and to your right, there was a small table with a few snacks and drinks. There were also quite a few seats around, already occupied by couples and friends.

“What do you want to do?”

You turned to face Jasper, who was waving over at a group of Slytherins further on the left.

“We can go dance,” you suggested, praying he wasn’t going to drag you over to his housemates. Jasper seemed alright enough, but you weren’t a fan of his obnoxious friends. You could very well go the night without hanging around them, thank you very much.

He shrugged, “Sure.”

He linked his hand in yours and tugged you along behind him, bringing you over to the dance floor. Once you got there, you noticed a few familiar faces.

Hermione and Viktor were not far away, and she gave you an excited grin before pointing at her date, who was obviously making love heart eyes in her direction. You couldn’t blame him, honestly. Further along you spotted Fred and Angelina, dancing away as if they were the only two in the room. It caused you to chuckle.

“So do you want to dance, or…?” Jasper asked, placing one of his hands on your waist.

You shivered under his touch. It wasn’t a good shiver, it was discomfort. You wanted more than anything to be dancing with Neville — who you currently spotted over with Ginny, his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you squeaked, awkwardly stepping closer to him before putting your arms around his neck. Your throat began to sting as you watched the two of them glide across the floor, laughing as they spoke to each other. It felt quite juxtaposed to the uncomfortable, weird situation that you found yourself currently in.

You began to sway to the music, trying your best not to dart your eyes to Neville every couple of seconds. Jasper was clearly not enjoying this, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get what he came here for and you weren’t going to be guilted into it either.

You honestly couldn’t be thankful enough as the slow song ended. You quickly pulled your arms away from him and you crossed them over your chest.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” you said, not waiting for his response before taking off to the table by the entrance. You heard him call your name as you pushed your way through students, holding the skirt of your dress in your hands to avoid being stepped on, but you didn’t look back.

There was a clearing near the table and you took a deep breath, dropping your skirt and letting out a sigh. Your shoulders slouched as you walked over and grabbed a small glass, not even sure if you were thirsty. The excuse was simply to get away from Jasper. You were regretting your decision to come here more than ever.

“I recommend the punch.”

You spun on your heel, nearly coming in contact with Neville. He was standing behind you, taking a step back after realizing how close he really was.

“Oh—,” you nodded, “Thanks.”

The punch bowl sat in front of you, glistening red under the shimmering lights. You grabbed the spoon and poured yourself a little bit, enjoying the scent of the fruity drink.

You turned back around, giving Neville a forced smile, “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he fiddled with his waistcoat, “Are you alright? I don’t mean to prod or anything.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, “Yeah, I guess I’m alright, really. Just not having a great time.”

Neville’s eyes scanned the dance floor where he spotted Jasper’s familiar blond head scanning the crowd, “I’m guessing it has something to do with your date.”

His eyes found yours again and you nodded, placing the glass down on the table behind you, “My situation is kind of like yours, I guess. You wanted to ask someone else. Well, I wanted someone else to ask me.”

You could see his shoulders sag before he frowned, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’d say anyone would be lucky to have you as their partner, but something about him tells me he’s not enjoying himself the way he should be, being by your side and all.”

You had to fight a grin at his words. How Neville could be so awkward, yet so effortless in his words, you’d never understand. It was one of the reasons you knew you wouldn’t be getting over your crush anytime soon.

“Thanks,” you gave him a smile, looking down to the ground before meeting his eyes again, “You should go back. I don’t want to keep you from dancing.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes as he scanned your face, but he gave a slight nod, “If ever you want to get away from him, I’ll be there to help you.”

“Thanks, Neville,” you smiled genuinely, maintaining eye contact. He stood there for a moment, looking into your eyes, and you could practically feel how reluctant he was to walk away.

As cliché and typical as it sounds, it almost felt like you were alone in the room, completely lost in his gaze. His eyes brought you comfort that nothing else could provide, and you only wished you could look into them more often. Like dancing, for example. How easily you’d find yourself lost in his eyes if you were dancing.

“No worries,” he gave you a small smile, scanned your face once more, and took off into the crowd. As you watched his head of dark hair vanish, you let out a deep breath. If life could go your way, he’d have his hand linked with yours as he led you back to the dance floor.

But life wasn’t fair like that, was it?

You completely disregarded the punch behind you, stomach feeling like it was in knots, and made your way back to where you left Jasper. Only, you couldn’t find the familiar mop of blond hair anywhere. He was rather tall, so it wouldn’t be difficult to spot him. And yet, somehow, he was nowhere to be seen.

Until you looked to the entrance door and saw him hand in hand with a ginger Slytherin girl, both of them stumbling over their feet as they made their way out.

“Well, that was fast,” you mumbled, a frown on your face.

You stood alone on the floor, couples swaying to the music around you. It kind of felt like a movie — the kind of movie where the girl gets her heart crushed by a guy, and then is ditched by another guy, and then is left alone in the end. A crappy movie, you thought, but one that seemed to fit really well right now.

The music was practically taunting you, so instead of staying put or going to finish your drink, you once again gathered your dress in your hands, and made your way out of the room.

The hallway felt a lot fresher compared to the Great Hall, but that was understandable. Hundreds of bodies in one room compared to the corridor with an open doorway to the winter air.

Though, that wasn’t where you were going. You decided you’d go down to your usual escape spot, and now that all the teachers were chaperoning the ball, you would make it there with minimal interruption.

You spotted the familiar painting by the kitchen entrance, the bowl of fruits, and raised your hand to tickle the pear. The painting swung open and you crawled through the little stone passage, making sure your dress wasn’t going to get caught, before landing on both feet on the tile floor.

“Oh! Miss Y/N!”

Dobby, donned in a little scarf and hat, waved at you from a tabletop.

“Hey, Dobby,” you grinned, “Sorry to interrupt your quiet evening in here. I didn’t know where else to go.”

He patted the table next to him, “Why did you leave so early? Dobby heard the ball was lasting all night.”

You gave him a little smile, sitting down on the stool in front of him, “Wasn’t as fun as I expected. I’d rather spend my evening here. Where is everyone else?” The stool was rather small for a human being, considering it was most likely made for an elf, but if you leaned forwards against the table and kept your feet plastered to the ground, you managed to balance just fine.

He gave a little smile and looked at you with those big eyes, “They are all tired! We have been putting the ball together for days now! They all went to bed.”

The corner of your lips curved up, “Well, now you have company, Dobby.”

He clapped his hands together and let out a little laugh, “Let me show you what Dobby found today. It was in the Gryffindor common room!”

You nodded, knowing that it was most likely a knitted hat. Hermione had been leaving those scattered around the room for a little while now. Little did she know Dobby was the one collecting them all.

As you watched his little body disappear through a small doorway on the far wall, you took a look around the kitchen. Despite the fact that you were certain they had been working non-stop in here for days on end, it was nearly spotless. Pots and pans shimmered under the candlelight, tabletops were clear, apart from a few fruit bowls and snacks. The counters were clean, as well as the floors.

If this place had windows, or maybe a little more light, you felt it would be quite nice.

You sat there silently for a little while, already beginning to feel the sadness of the evening creep in. It was quite a bummer, really. You didn’t know if you wanted to go back to your own dorm tonight or stay out wandering the halls, mind running through all the scenarios on how tonight could have gone differently, how it could have been better.

The only sound you could hear was a light creak, which you eventually realized was the painting swinging open to let someone in.

Panic began to settle in and you stood off your chair, moving to the other side of the table. You would still be very much visible if you ducked, so there was no point in doing it, but you did it anyways.

The last thing you wanted was for Snape or Moody to catch you where you shouldn’t be.

Except, the person that crawled through and landed sturdily on their feet wasn’t Snape or Moody.

It was Neville.

You popped your head back up, eyes locking with his. He looked a little disheveled in terms of his hair, and his bow tie was slightly off centre, but the smile on his face showed relief.

“Neville?” you asked, already feeling a little less panicked. You only hoped Neville was alone. The last thing you wanted was for a girl to crawl in behind him. He wasn’t that kind of guy, you knew that, but your mind went there anyways.

Thankfully, he was alone. The painting swung closed behind him and he gave you a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, walking back around to the front of the table, this time deciding not to sit on the stool.

His cheeks turned a little pink but he brushed it off and shrugged, “I saw you rush out of the room. I wanted to see if you were okay. I remember you once told me you come here when you’re upset, so I gave it a shot.”

Your mouth felt like it fell open so you shut it quickly, blinking rapidly, “I’m surprised you remembered. Only you and Hermione know about my little escape spot.”

He gave a small chuckle, stepping a little closer, “Are you alright, though? I saw you leave and I didn’t see your date anywhere.”

You gave a shrug, averting your eyes, “He left. With another girl. I wasn’t interested in him that way, but it still sucks.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and gave a shake of his head, “You’re better off without him,” he stepped a little closer, catching your attention once more, “But I get why you’re upset. Funny story, the same thing happened to me. But not in the same sense. Ginny managed to get a dance with Harry.”

You were close enough to put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

Realization caught up to you and you noticed how stupid this gesture probably was, so you snatched your arm back and held it against you. Neville noticed your quick reaction and you could see his gaze fall down to the ground before meeting yours again.

Just like at the punch table, it felt as if time stood still while you looked into his eyes. You could see he looked like he wanted to say something, his stare darting back and forth between your lips and your eyes, but he didn’t say anything for a good moment.

Until one of his hands reached across and held yours. His skin was warm, and you could feel his pulse against his wrist. His heart was beating fast, and if he could feel your own pulse, he’d say the same about you.

“You look—,” he took a deep breath, “You look beautiful tonight. Well, not just tonight. You look beautiful most of the time. I’m just saying, it’s — never mind.”

Your heart seemed to stutter in your chest, goosebumps rising on your skin at his words. They had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t find a way to respond. No words seemed to find their way into your mind. All you could do was smile. A bright, genuine grin that hurt your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you let out a small laugh, linking your fingers with his, “Also, you look pretty dapper yourself. I told you you would, and I was right.”

He stepped closer, his other hand locking with your free one. It wasn’t an overtly intimate gesture — people held hands all the time — but Merlin, did you ever melt into his touch.

“Do you — Can we have a dance?”

You bit your lip to hold back your smile. How you went from standing alone on the dance floor, starring in the most depressing teen flick you’d ever heard of, to standing alone in the kitchen, your hands locked with Neville’s as the candles flickered around the two of you, you’d never know. But you were so, so grateful. And happier than you can ever remember being.

“I’d love that,” you nodded, stepping closer and resting your head against his shoulder. His hands let go of yours and went to your waist, and it felt so right. So right that you completely forgot about how it felt when Jasper was holding you instead.

Your hands went up to his neck, draping them around him and leaning into his touch. There was no music, but it almost didn’t feel necessary. The two of you began to sway slowly back and forth, the only sound being the click of your shoes as you took your steps. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about whether Dobby would walk back in any second now.

He rested his head against yours as he led the way. It wasn’t much of a dance, but it was quite possibly the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. You wished more than anything that you could freeze this moment and live like this forever.

“A hat! Dobby was left a hat — Oh! Hello!”

Neville pulled away instinctively and grinned awkwardly, taking a second to process what had happened before nodding his head in the direction of the house elf, “Hello, Dobby.”

You fought a grin, turning your head back to face Dobby, who was awkwardly looking between the two of you, a large knitted beanie in his hand.

“Dobby can sense he is intruding,” he muttered, giving a little bow before backing up through the door he left through before, “Good night!”

The moment had sort of been interrupted, but you didn’t move away from Neville’s touch, resting your head against his shoulder once more as your laughter died down. Of course, the curious little elf would walk in at the worst moment.

“I knew that would happen,” you laughed, tightening your grip around him a little more. He chuckled, head falling against yours. You could feel his hair tickling the side of your face, the strands unruly and curly as they brushed against your skin.

The night ended up being way better than you expected.

This one you would never forget.

——

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[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: Let's Talk About Sex (19x03)

Grey's likes doing its special episodes, and honestly even when they're heavy-handed I still think they're kind of interesting and often quite effective. Let's dive in!

Cons:

I am... extremely torn about Zola being super gifted. It feels like the more interesting conflict for Meredith's personal life would be if Zola was struggling with a learning disability, falling behind in school, and Meredith could have the chance to be the kind of mother she never had, and encourage and nourish her daughter even if she's not going to be "extraordinary" by normal societal definitions. I'm willing to see where this goes, but it feels a little silly to me. Especially as a convenient follow-up to Zola having panic attacks. Turns out they're happening because Zola is a super genius. Okay then. (Also, this plot thread includes Nick, the most Boring Character Ever to Live, so I'm automatically a little biased against it.)

I'm going to have a lot of nice things to say about the main plot with the sex education thing, but I do want to note a few elements I didn't 100% love... for one, the dancing video at the end, and the cheesy thing where Bailey talks about needing to speak the kids' language... I can see how that seemed like a good idea in the writing of the script, and I liked the goofy energy of the dancing, but I wish we had had a moment of self-awareness that trying to plan something to go viral isn't actually how any of this works. Maybe something about Bailey's idea will charm the youths and a TikTok trend will pop off. Or maybe it will be mocked mercilessly. Or maybe it'll fizzle and die entirely. I don't think you can actually predict these things.

Another element that I wish had been explored with a big more nuance... Meredith's voiceover is about how sex can be healing, sex can be medicine. But that there are different benefits, and that sometimes sex without the proper intimacy and connection doesn't work the same way. I wish this idea had been pushed one step further, talking about the fact that non-sexual intimacy can also be therapeutic in various ways. I wish that Link giving Jo a foot-rub hadn't turned into an erogenous zone thing. For several reasons: I don't like the Link/Jo romance potential, but also in general I wish we could have included a purely platonic intimacy example within the sex montage at the end of the episode.

Also, cannot state this enough: Nick is boring and when he and Meredith were smooching I was literally yawning.

Pros:

Overall, I really liked the new baby residents teaching sex ed to high schoolers. This plot thread was honestly charming and funny and gave us more time with the new characters. I like the way the residents taught the high schoolers about sexual pleasure but also kept the safe sex thing front of mind, suggesting masturbation as a good way to avoid getting pregnant, warning against the pull-out method as being effective. We also got to spend some time with Addison, which is always a lovely treat! We have one young girl who discovers that she's pregnant and decides on a medical abortion. Another girl who has a cyst that is causing her extreme abdominal distress. Issues of health that Grey's would like you to know should remain personal between a patient and their physician, thank you very much!

I liked the way Addison spoke about feeling invisible, and afraid, and angry, about the overturning of Roe v. Wade, the way she sees the impact every day in her work. It's important to keep this in mind. It's a societal evil, what is happening in this country right now. It affects everyone, even people who have never been and will never be pregnant.

As a small note I appreciated that the residents used inclusive language, talking about women, or just any person with a vagina. It's a small thing but normalizing it is so important.

Teddy and Owen get a token mention in the "pros" section this week because at least hopefully now that they've had sex to release some tension, they can stop being so gosh dang annoying on my screen every week. Get a grip, you two.

Also featured in the sex montage you've got Amelia and Kai, Kai having turned up as a surprise to see Amelia! I loved seeing their happy reunion, although I am wondering if we're going to pick back up on that drama about Kai not ever wanting kids, and Amelia's identity as a mother. We also see a couple of our newbies, Blue and Jules, hooking up. This could be a fun energy to keep our eyes on.

Probably the most moving part of the episode comes from Simone and Lucas. Simone's grandmother, who has severe dementia, comes wondering into the hospital looking for her daughter, who she believes is about to give birth. Simone tries to remind her grandmother that her daughter is dead, but that only upsets the poor woman. Meredith intervenes and tells Simone that the most humane thing to do is to live in her grandmother's reality with her, something Simone isn't sure she can do. This experience really bonds Simone and Lucas, who both know each other's secrets now. Just as Lucas knows about Simone's rough home situation, Simone knows that Lucas is a secret Shepherd.

Finally, we've got Bailey coming back to work! She wants to take a different approach this time, not taking her chief job back but instead blending attending tasks with teaching. I'm excited she's returning, and hopefully she can finally achieve some of that ideal work-life balance she so deserves.

So that's that. I had fun with this episode, I loved the energy of the sex ed stuff, and I'm still feeling really excited about the potential of these new characters!

8/10

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villainsicle | Part 12

At long last... comfort. Villain deserves it and I am so sorry to them and to every reader of this story.

Sorry that this took so long. I got sick (not COVID) and work kicked my ass, but at long last, it is here!

Counselor tries to help Villain take a bath, but ends up forcing them to confront a buried fear. Comfort ensues.

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby​

@teachunks

@daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker-blog

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, non-sexual nudity, non-sexual stripping, bathing, restraints, flashbacks

Villain struggled.

Well, perhaps it was less of a struggle. Struggling had a purpose, a clear drive and direction. Villain’s erratic movements had neither-- they could be perhaps described more succinctly as twitching. Erratic twitching, their hands balling and unballing to fists, their muscles tightening for reason unknown. Not all at once, but periodically.

It wasn’t a nightmare, Counselor was certain of that. Nightmares were fast, coming on all at once in a wave of panic. There was no panic in Villain’s movements, just stress. Muscles and nerves wound as taut as they could be.

They considered waking them. Trying to comfort them. But there would be little point in that. Not when they would simply be waking up to a cold hospital room, experiencing just as much stress in wakefulness as they had in sleep.

So, Counselor waited. They prepared, all while watching Villain, ensuring that they stayed steady. That they were okay.

In the end, getting the bath ready took almost an hour. Inherently, it didn’t have to. By all logic, they could have simply turned on the water and awoken Villain. They would have been cleaned all the same. But that wasn’t what this was about, not entirely.

So, they prepared. The base had only one bathtub in it, and, more than luckily, it was far better than they ever could have asked for. It had originally been acquired for use by Engineer-- Leader’s spouse-- who, as a wheelchair user, found getting into a tub far more convenient than configuring a shower chair.

Of course, Engineer never went for the bare minimum. If there was something they could tinker with, they wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Thus, the tub now possessed as many handles and supports as could possibly fit, not to mention the filtration system designed to keep the water temperature consistent practically indefinitely. It was the latter that allowed Counselor as much time as they needed.

In the end, once the tub was filled with sufficiently warm water, the bathroom had become littered with towels, rags, and as many combs as were in storage. Not to mention enough soap to clean a warehouse.

It was only when all that was gathered, when the water temperature was perfect, when everything was ready, that Counselor awoke Villain.

They opened the door to their hospital room, doing so as slowly and carefully as they could manage. They walked across the tile to their patient’s bedside in the same manner, taking care not to disturb them.

Villain’s hands clenched into fists as they fought against the fabric restraints holding them down. It wasn’t a conscious movement, but it was nerve wracking nonetheless.

They reached forward, flinching back for a moment as Villain twitched again, before placing their hand on their shoulder. Gently, they shook their shoulder, speaking:

“Hey, hey. Hey, can you get up for me?”

After a moment, Villain’s eyelids fluttered, before finally opening. Their eyes stared out, unfocused, before coming together to gaze up at Counselor. The latter put on the kindest smile they could manage.

“Good morning.” They chirped. Villain blinked a few more times, their eyelids seeming awfully heavy. Counselor felt bad about waking them, but they hadn’t exactly been having a restful sleep.

Again, the patient blinked. At last, their eyes focused.

The bedframe was struck with such force that Counselor could practically feel it, just from proximity. They leapt back, only to hear the sound again as Villain yanked once more at their wrist restraint. A thousand images flashed back in their mind-- images of buildings collapsing, of server rooms exploding into shrapnel and smoke. Images of what Villain used to represent in their mind. Aggression and destruction.

Their heart skipped a beat, before its beating increased considerably in speed.

Villain was a villain. At least, they were at some point.

Counselor took a moment, fighting to steady their breathing, before returning to the bedside. Though loath to admit it, the restraints on Villain’s wrists made them feel far better.

“Hey, hey, Villain.” They did their best to return their smile to their face. Villain had stopped struggling, but their fists remained balled. “It’s okay. Hey, you’re okay.”

A pair of nervous eyes turned to them. At least, they thought that expression to be nervousness.

“Are you okay?” They spoke, slightly louder this time-- perhaps Villain simply couldn’t hear.

In an instant, Villain shrunk back onto the bed, their gaze darting away.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. Are you feeling okay?”

After a brief pause, Villain nodded, though they didn’t seem all too convinced. Counselor supposed that that was all they were going to get.

“Okay. Medic is busy today, so I’m going to be taking care of you today. I ran a bath for you. Do you want to take a bath?”

They almost opened their mouth, before going back, firmly pressing their lips together.

“It’s okay. You can talk. Do you want to talk a bath?”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t a very committal response, but they needed a bath. The dirt and tears streaked on their face were certainly only the beginning of it-- the rest simply covered by their hospital gown.

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Yes.”

Counselor hated just how much they hesitated as they reached for the restraints. Still, nervous or not, they were doing this. They undid the straps, letting them dangle from the bedframe. They placed an arm around Villain’s back, expecting to having to help them up, but they turned out to need minimal aid to do so. They did, on the other hand, need some help to get to their feet.

They could help but furrow their brow. When they’d arrived, Villain had been sick, sure, but at least had some strength. How had they gotten worse?

“Okay, the bath is just a few doors down. You can lean on me if you need.”

They just nodded. The two moved to the door, yet when Counselor reached for the handle, Villain froze. Even as the door opened, they refused to take another step, or so much as budge.

Counselor frowned, holding the frightened person closer to themself, practically whispering:

“It’s okay. Medic is all the way on the other side of the building. They’re asleep.”

That seemed to do the trick. Villain moved forward. The bath was only a few doors outside of the medical wing, and as they entered the room, the sheer warmth in the air was palpable. Counselor closed the door behind them, before helping Villain over to a wall and releasing their hold on them. They didn’t seem to need to lean on the wall at the moment, but they figured that it couldn’t hurt.

“I have some clean clothes for you when we’re done. Um, I don’t have to look, if you don’t want.”

“It’s fine.” Villain muttered-- the first real complete thought they had spoken so far.

“Okay. Take your time.”

They nodded. At some point, they had changed from their normal clothes to a hospital gown of sorts. It wasn’t exactly a complicated garment, but taking it off took a moment-- on account of Villain’s nervous, shaking hands. Still, they managed, hanging the gown over a towel rack.

“The bath is all ready, then. Whenever you’re ready.”

Villain nodded again, seeming intent on doing little more than agreeing. They approached the side of the bathtub, stared at the water, and broke.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The washing room was cold.

That was what Villain had always thought of the room as, anyways. The washing room. A structure with concrete walls and a metal floor that dipped every few feet to allow for a drain to be embedded in it. Whatever else it was used for, they didn’t know.

But, to them, it was the washing room.

They kept their head low, staring down at their wrists pressed firmly against the floor, just ahead of their folded knees. At some point, days or perhaps decades ago, their wrists would be secured to the flooring for their baths. Now, they knew better. They knew it was easier not to struggle.

By all accounts, they should have gotten used to it. Regardless of Trainer’s other... behaviors, they were dedicated to keeping their Assets well taken care of. That meant a bath, every day of every week of every month of every year of every millennia.

Their head swam.

They wished they could get used to it. To the cold metal floor, and the chill in the air. But they couldn’t.

For a split second, they heard a valve unlatch and water flow through a hose. Next thing they knew, the ice struck them, biting at every inch of exposed skin, tearing and breaking.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

With an almost robotic suddenness, Villain’s arms jerked upwards, wrapping around their torso. A horrible shiver ran up their spine, spreading to the rest of them as well. Their teeth clenched together, their jaw quivering, their eyes gazing somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t in the room.

“Villain? Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay, you can take as much time as you need, you-”

None of the words reached them. They had left the bathroom as soon as they had looked into the water.

Again, they shivered.

For a moment, Counselor looked at them, mind spinning but running on empty. In this state, touching them probably wouldn’t do much good. They looked so cold...

Counselor’s gaze moved to the bathtub.

From one of their piles of rags, they clutched a piece of fabric, saturating it with the warm water filling the tub. As gently as they could manage, they draped the warm thing over the back of Villain’s neck, letting water droplets dribble down their exposed back.

Villain blinked, their eyes once again fixating on something real.

“Are you alright?”

They nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“The water is warm. It’s okay. I promise. Do you want to get in?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need any help?”

Villain shook their head as the rest of their body experienced one last shiver. They stepped into the water first, one foot after the other. The nonslip pad firmly secured to the bottom of the tub ensured that they had no issues sitting down. For a second, they seemed almost instinctively to kneel, before they moved to a sort of sitting position instead. They held their knees to their chest, as if trying to conserve warmth.

That hardness, that tension in their muscles, only seemed to stay for a moment. Then, like dye dissolving in water, it seemed to slowly dissipate. Not gone, but lessened.

It was working.

“I’m just going to try to get some dirt off of you, okay? If you ever want me to stop, just say so. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Their voice, too, seemed to have relaxed, just ever so slightly, as if their vocal cords themselves had been tense beforehand.

Counselor began.

Had this been a regular bath, simple soap and water would have easily sufficed. This, however, was not a normal bath.

Sweat and tears and general filth had managed to accumulate over their skin, carving dark marks throughout. Blooming from their chest, as well, a half-healed scar was surrounded by dried blood that had been there for far too long.

With a small pitcher, they took water from the tub, pouring it over Villain’s body and rubbing with a washcloth. Their movements were gentle, as much as they could make them, and it seemed that wherever their washcloth moved, tension would dissolve like snow under sunlight.

It was in that manner that they cleaned the dirt, the tears and the sweat, the blood and the muck. The bathwater threatened at points to turn brown, but such attempts were quickly thwarted by the filter that continued to run with its subtle background flicking sound.

After several minutes of this (or, probably, more like half an hour), Counselor felt that enough tension had dissipated that, just maybe, Villain would be able to talk back. And they certainly had a lot to talk about. Without stopping their cleaning, they spoke, their voice blending in with the subtle movement of the water:

“How are you feeling, Villain?”

“The water is warm.” It was almost slurred.

““Does it feel nice?”

“Yeah.”

Counselor took a new washcloth, wetted it, and moved it to Villain’s cheek, carving a patch of cleanliness through a lifetime of dirt. They leaned into the touch.

“Were you scared, earlier?”

“I... I think so.”

“Do you want to talk about why you were scared.”

“I- Um, I don’t... I don’t like baths.”

“Do you know why that is?”

Some of that tension returned, in their neck.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” Counselor smiled. “Do you like this bath?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad.”

Villain hummed something, but if it was meant to be words, the message didn’t get across.

“Villain?”

“Mhm?”

“How have you been feeling, recently?”

“Um... I’ve been feeling fine.”

“You don’t have to be formal with me.” Taking care to avoid their eye, Counselor drew the washcloth between the bridge of Villain’s nose and the corner of their eyelid. They couldn’t help but feel that the marks, here, were mostly from tears. “You can tell me how you’re really feeling. I want to help.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been feeling... sick.”

“Yeah. I think that’s why they moved you to the medical wing.”

“I don’t want to be there.”

“I know.” Counselor gave a sympathetic frown. “The sooner you get better, though, the sooner you can get out of there.” They put down their washcloth, picking the pitcher up once more. With one hand, they pushed the Villain’s bangs back, protecting their face at the same time. With the other, they poured a steady stream of water onto their hair. “What has the sickness been like? Is it like a cold?”

“No. It’s not a cold.”

“What is it like?”

“Like... Like I’m tired. And cold.”

“All the time?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you start feeling like that?”

Villain looked to Counselor, for the first time making direct, sustained eye contact. Counselor took a handful of shampoo, beginning to lather it into their hair. Again, they leaned into the touch as if it was their lifeline.

“Counselor?”

“Yeah?”

“Medic is making me sick.”

They finished their lathering, pouring another pitcher of water of their hair, washing the soap out into the tub below.

“Medic is making you sick?”

“Mhm.”

“How... How are they making you sick?”

“The food. They’re putting something in the food.”

Counselor felt like freezing, but knew that doing so would send Villain back to hiding in their proverbial corner. With their hair clean, they moved to rubbing soap over the rest of the skin, which had now been marginally cleaned off.

“Villain.” They frowned, again. “Do you have any special dietary requirements? Or do you need any medications?”

“No.”

Counselor pursed their lips into a thin line as they rubbed a thin film of white soap onto Villain’s shoulder blades.

“Medic told me that you needed special food. That it was the kind of thing that needed a doctor’s care.”

Villain nodded, a single hand balling into a fist.

“They’re making me sick.”

They finished rubbing the soap along their back, and briefly washed their hands on a cloth before picking the pitcher back up to finish rinsing.

“I believe you.”

“Y- You do?”

Warm water ran down their front.

“I do. And when we’re done here, we’re going to get you some real food. Then I’m going to give Medic a piece of my fucking mind.”

[mashbits]

i have many feelings and probably unpopular opinions/views on the bee duo-las nevadas conflict today so here we go, all characters mentions are c! only!

(mostly c!tubbo analysis i’m sorry)

while yes, quackity has every right to be suspicious of the outpost especially when it really was designed to spy on his country, tubbo also has every right to build there. because quackity never specified he was going to expand on that land. more so, tubbo had every right to be suspicious of las nevadas and want to see what’s going on, because he himself knows just how incredibly dangerous new things on the smp can be.

tubbo obviously wants to trust quackity and believe there’s nothing sketchy going on in las nevada’s, but there’s so much history between them that’s left some serious, albeit unnoticeable, tension against quackity (and most of the server)

he himself said that it was quackity who took part in tubbo’s execution. while many tend to just blame schlatt and techno, most people forget that quackity had so much to do with it as well. while yes, tubbo has forgiven him, who’s to say tubbo isn’t still effected by it. we all know how horrible he is when it comes to expression his emotions/trauma, and his nonchalant attitude towards his own life may come into effect as well.

as well as, while tubbo was president, it was quackity who took charge and bossed tubbo around the most. HE spoke over tubbo, and HE was the one comparing him to schlatt, their shared tormentor during the manburg arc. quackity had to have known how much that would hurt. quackity also suggested execution ranboo just before doomsday, an example of how he had no problem executing tubbo before. quackity is known to manipulate tubbo and put words into his mouth, with how much “i trust you, BUT (insert negative)” quackity threw. quackity also tried to leave l’manburg on doomsday, which obviously hurt tubbo even if he did come back. tubbo standing up to quackity when he felt entirely justified building onto an apparently unclaimed piece of land wasn’t tubbo having any negative intentions or violent thoughts, it was only a teenager who was tired of being bullied and walked all over.

tubbo has every right to be afraid of what quackity in las nevada’s could do. building a spy outpost and calling it a cookie stand is how tubbo, who’s known to go to the extremes when feeling threatened, is entirely justified. because tubbo is afraid of his own projects getting griefed, as demonstrated in the past, him making the outpost so secure is, in tubbo’s traumatized mind, entirely justified. and i agree.

quackity is in his every right to be suspicious and untrusting with the outpost, but he is in no way innocent of tricking people himself. tubbo’s river compromise was completely reasonable.

as well as, i truly believe if quackity had tried talking to the bee duo before instantly starting to build a wall against the other wall, the conflict wouldn’t have been to negative. tubbo felt threatened by the immediate distrust and assumption that they were out to harm las nevadas, when he just wanted to keep an eye out and stay close to people he’s afraid of, to avoid someone else getting hurt. quackity feeling threatened by a supposed cookie store in territory he didn’t officially claim, where the wall wasn’t even being built directly towards las nevadas, felt a bit too extreme.

also, the way quackity would say things like “i’ll ALLOW you to keep the farm” “if you’d asked permission first” and bringing up so much politics, law and terms felt like an adult undermining a child, like he didn’t actually respect tubbo as a person. i’ve noticed a pattern of certain adults treating the minors of the smp as adults who should take the blame for problems that aren’t even their own and then treating them like clueless kids who don’t know what they’re talking about when it’s convenient for them. quackity during tubbo’s presidency, while treating him like a child, put all of the pressure and decisions on him instead of owning up to his own issues. quackity just doesn’t sit right with me, he and wilbur both being extreme manipulators and picking/choosing when they want to treat one of the kids with respect feels incredibly shitty. ALSO also, the fact that quackity kept bringing up jack manifold and associating all of his actions to tubbo also feels very uncomfortable. judging a person by association is toxic and biased, especially since quackity only believed jack manifold to live in snowchester- a place that has been, and tubbo has made this very clear, somewhere that people can go to relax and live peacefully, and conflict-free. tubbo let’s anyone build and reside in snowchester not for money or profit or power, but because he knows there are people on the server who’re tired of feeling threatened. tubbo is in no way responsible for the actions of others associated with him or his home. quackity really liked forgetting that foolish and puffy lived there as well, both of which he trusts (or manipulated into joining las nevadas, moreso foolish, as i’m not too sure where puffy lies).

speaking of foolish, i am :D not okay :D bc i love foolish, he’s my sweet shark god but with how carefree he was about giving away all of snowchester secrets to quackity when tubbo clearly trusted him and welcomed him with open/warm arms, it hurted :’D if quackity finds out about michael because of foolish, and in turn something happens to michael, i will lose it-

i’m not entirely sure what quackity is planning with las nevadas, especially since he’s trying revive schlatt as well, but it isn’t anything good. tubbo has every right to be suspicious. quackity obviously believed that he would be able to take over the conversation and sound like he was in the right/being fair the entire time, and speak over tubbo like always. he tried to as well, and tried to put words into tubbo’s mouth yet again. for someone who’s so obsessed with not repeating history, he definitely loves to let it control him. i’m proud of tubbo for standing his ground.

people assume history will repeat itself, but it only will if you let it take over. quackity wanting las nevadas to not see the fate of l’manburg is going to be its downfall, because quackity didn’t actually learn from history. he’s letting it control him.

[saffron-nova21]

VII. Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer Pt. 2

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Warnings: Iwaizumi is smooth, like one minor suggestive joke

As the three of you walked away from your apartment, you moved your hand into Kenma's, contently swinging your interlaced hands back and forth while Kuroo spoke to Kenma. You didn't tune in to all of it, instead just looking around. It looked dangerously close to raining and after glancing at your friends, you quickly realized that none of you were dressed for the rain.

Kuroo was surprisingly casual today, a white shirt with some dark print against it, a cross-body shoulder bag, and a pair of black skinny jeans that most certainly did him justice. Kenma, for once, had pulled something that wasn't his signature black hoodie out of his closet. Wearing a long sleeve black shirt that hung off of his form, along with some black joggers. You had gone with a crewneck for your own comfort. Kenma's merch, as usual for you.

You couldn't explain what it was about wearing Kenma's merch, but for whatever reason, it brought you a great deal of comfort, which was the main reason that Kenma made sure you got at least one of everything he sold, no matter how 'exclusive' it was supposed to be, you had one. Not to mention, he liked to have his name, even if it was the one he used online, displayed on you.

But you didn't have to know that part.

"Like I said, Lev is already on top of it. If you two want to take a serious break and not even have to deal with Twitter or streaming, just say the word." Kuroo reassures, patting his smaller friend on the back, "You know, I really don't understand why you two, who hate social interaction, chose a career that depends solely on it."

Looking over, you're quick to respond, "What can we say? We like staying at home. Plus, it's not exactly a lot of work. It's just hard work and it's draining, y'know?"

Both boys give you a peculiar look, Kenma being the first of them to speak. "You know, I think you need a nap when we get home." He squeezes your hand with his own before looking forward again. "Hard work and a lot of work are... Rather close to being the same thing. Don't undermine your profession, just because other people do."

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, though he doesn't say anything as he faces forwards as well. "There he is, in the flesh," he notes as he gestures in the direction of a man leaning against a car.

Your eyes widened a bit as you took a good look at the man. He looked... Where there even words for it? Muscular arms and what you could only guess was a muscular chest was barely contained by a black shirt. Unluckily for you, blocking your view was what you assumed to be a compression sleeve, covering one of his arms from his wrist, up past his sleeve. He also wore the same black joggers that Kenma did, though through them, you could see muscular thighs and calves.

"Tetsuro, I thought you said we were going to meet a colleague, not someone who I would let do horrible, vile things to my -." Your words are cut off by an abrupt cough from Kuroo. "Come on, you both know I'm kidding!.. More or less..."

Kuroo and Kenma couldn't help but exchange pained looks - you really were going for a reverse harem, at this point, weren't you? You'd think they'd both be used to your fawning over 'pretty' and 'respectful-looking' men. Though, Hajime wasn't the worst person you could pick, at the very least.

After shaking his head in amusement, Kuroo raises an arm over his head to wave towards the other man. "Hajime!" Kuroo's deep voice cuts through the air, catching the Athletic Trainer's attention.

Looking up from his phone, the black-haired male gives a light wave, adjusting his posture to stand up straight. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he shifts his weight, his biceps flexing more than they should be allowed to, in your opinion. He might be an athletic trainer, but no one should be allowed to look that good, in just a t-shirt. Looking at the way the material stretched over his muscular arms, you wondered if it was about to tear... It certainly looked like it was close to it.

Iwaizumi allows the three of you to catch up to him as he reaches the entrance of the restaurant. He gives you and Kenma a nod, because he turns to Kuroo and begins to speak to him, though you tuned out pretty quickly when you heard him speaking to Kuroo about the previous Captain's job. What could you say? It was boring.

Crossing your arms, you spare Kenma a glance, "He could have at least said 'hi.'" You complain, not quite expecting the two in front of you to hear you.

You can hear Iwaizumi let out a quiet laugh, before he turns to face you, voice dripping in dry amusement. "I'm so very sorry, your highness." He shifts so his face is directly in front of yours. "Hi, I'm Iwaizumi Hajime, Athletic Trainer of the volleyball team. I can't wait to start our work together."

You narrow your eyes a bit, brows furrowing at how close he was to you. Heat rises to your face and you attempt to take a step back, only to find that Kenma was conveniently preventing that. You find a reason to finally look away from him as he takes your hand from Kenma's to shake it, amusement pooling in his features. Underneath the surface, though, Iwaizumi was silently thanking Oikawa for the years he'd spent with the other male, learning how to shock him enough to shut him up.

Kenma bites back his smirk, raising a hand to cover his mouth before he let out the laugh of amusement that threatened to escape him. He raises an eyebrow, nudging you, "You could at least respond, now that he has said hi."

Your two friends found far too much amusement in the interaction, in your opinion.

"Well, it's a pleasure, Iwaizumi Hajime, Olympic Trainer." You recover from your previously stunned state, a slight huff of air escaping you. "So kind of you to finally acknowledge our presence."

Kuroo sighs deeply, "Kuroo Tetsuro, table for four," he nods to the hostess, who looked amused by the interaction.

"Right this way."

Iwaizumi withdraws his hand so that he can begin following the other two, towards your normal booth in the corner. Kenma liked to have his back against the wall, always saying how it helped him stay calm. Neither you nor Kuroo had any qualms, especially if it made him feel more comfortable with you all going out in public. Though rather than moving to sit across from you both so that you could sit next to Kenma, as per usual, Kuroo slips into the seat beside Kenma, ensuring that you'd be seated next to Iwaizumi.

Puffing out your cheeks, you open your mouth to protest, only to stop and glance at Iwaizumi when you hear him speak. "Any day now, your highness."

You slide into your seat with palpable reluctance, you hostess giving you a sympathetic smile, before nodding. "Your waiter will be with you shortly."

Sinking further down into your seat, you cross your arms, "You know, I - Woah, buddy!" Jumping back up straight in your seat, you point an accusing finger at Iwaizumi, "You better watch where you're putting that leg of yours, buddy! There shouldn't be any premarital under-the-table knee touching."

Kenma lets out a breath, "You think they'll give us the check, yet?"

You and Kenma hold hands a lot in public. More than anything else, you both use it as a way to silently let one another know when you're uncomfortable. One squeeze for reassurance, two for an 'are you okay,' three for 'get me away from this conversation/person,' and four for 'home. now.'

Kuroo isn't sure how well Kenma is going to take it, when you truly start spending time with good-looking athletes, every day.

Kenma doesn't know that Suna and Atsumu are on the Olympic team and will probably kick Kuroo's ass, when he finds out. You were hurt badly, after everything. Worse than anyone but Kenma saw.

I hope you all are having a wonderful day. It is spring break and I, for one, have lost all concept of time. But still, I hope you guys are enjoying the story and having a good break. As usual, don't forget to eat and sleep, okay? And drink some water, I know you probably haven't, today.

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