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mizutori-heiko · 3 years ago

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Mizutori’s bakudeku fanfiction master list [complete works]

Really really good writing by these incredible authors. In no particular order! These are all Top!Bakugou and Bottom!Deku. If A/B/O dynamics then it’s Alpha!Bakugou and Omega!Deku. Yes, I have preferences.

Canon World – until 15k

What The Fuck Did You Just Call Me? by reading_raindrop | 8,303 | Izuku starts calling him Bakugou and it pisses the explosive teen off a lot more than he thought it would.

Oh right, you were a little sh*t by SaysiWrites | 5,653 | When Midoriya Izuku gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, the last thing anyone expected to find out is that Toddler-Izuku is a little shit. Except for one Bakugou Katsuki, who has seen this phase one too many times already. (Bonus+ the entire Little Sh*t (Kidfic) series)

Do Not Disturb by surveycorpsjean | 10,010 | Apply enough force, and something is bound to break.

And Atlas fell by supercrunch | 15,185 | They move in together, after a while. Katsuki joins Best Jeanist and Izuku trains under Gran Torino. They still take comfort in each other every day, curl up in bed and kiss and talk about how life is going. Their live are tumultuous, after all, what with villains and training and rescuing people every week. It’s nice to have something certain. At the end of a day filled with violence and adrenaline, Izuku knows he can come home to someone concrete. It’s perfect. Being a hero is scary and grueling and uncertain, but this part is just right. And then, one day, a child dies in Izuku’s arms.

be loved by bonnia | 5,403 | The kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands.

Big Protein by Mysecretfanmoments | 13,683 | Bakugou Katsuki has a thriving hero career, an agent to manage his famous attitude, and absolutely zero romantic interest in anyone. With the exception of his favourite health food joint refusing to expand to his city, his life is pretty damn perfect—so why does a viral video revealing Deku's stash of dirty mags involving him and Deku together turn everything upside-down?

Chocolate cake and resin preserved flowers by Anoksun | 11,396 | Izuku loses his memories. Katsuki struggles not to lose Izuku too.

Twin Stars by theperksofbeinglarissa | 8,435 | When Deku saves a woman's life, her quirk is accidentally activated. Her quirk? She reveals a person's soulmate. A star-shaped mark appears on Midoriya's left arm... and on Bakugou's as well. Kirishima is the only one who knows that Bakugou is Midoriya's soulmate, and Bakugou isn't taking the news very well. Can the twin stars of class 1-A work out their differences and find their happy ending?

Unhealthy Fixations by Thesis | 12,522 | Izuku is an adult who knows better than to crush on his childhood bully. AND YET.

Like the Moon by osakakitty | 14,781 | Katsuki Bakugo is having constant, erotic dreams about Izuku Midoriya. He isn’t sure why, but they won’t go away. In order to make them stop, he needs to figure out what Izuku Midoriya means to him.

Worth a Second Shot by cinnabee | 13,080 | Katsuki and Izuku celebrate registering as a Hero Duo together with a big party. What could go wrong?

Like Something Out of A Shoujo Manga by Merrywetherweather | 2,971 | Deku ends up in a rather interesting quirk accident, one that triggers flag events as if he were the protagonist of an otome game.

Canon World – 15k++

Blood Moon by lalazee | 94,860 | The Thank-Fuck-We-Aren’t-Dead Sex had started then, and had never really stopped. Then came the feelings and the fights. The ego, the pride, the jealousy. And then there was Us.

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh | 669,463 | During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in this state is no one other than Kacchan.

Just Like Breathing by MD_Daydreamer | 35,423 | Izuku got engaged. He didn't mind. If that made Uraraka happy, he could do it. He thought his life wouldn't change much.But then, Kacchan went to live in the USA.

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) by vannral | 15,951 | In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

"what's your type?" by sapphicflower | 20,192 | In order to increase their popularity rankings as up and coming pro heroes, Izuku and Katsuki participate in the most popular late night talk show for hero duos - ‘Heroes Rising!’. They’re killing it, obviously, because they know each other from inside and out. Until one question stumps the two of them: “What is your hero partner’s type?”

and it was Just Right by cinnabee | 23,759 | Katsuki spends two years post-graduation in a furious one-sided competition with his childhood friend and rival's promotional photos - until they finally run into each other, and, well. You shouldn't believe everything you see in magazines. A love story about size differences.

Notice Me, Nerd by useless_donut | 40,000 | Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out. A love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A.

in your dreams, nerd! by sapphicflower | 37,639 | In a strange and unexpected set of circumstances, Izuku and Katsuki find themselves sharing their dreams together whenever they happen to fall asleep at the same time. Being hopelessly in love with each other, they don’t mind it all that much. What better way to spend time with your crush than in a stupidly vivid dream?

Hear Me by my_name_is_Levi | 22,419 | It wasn’t as if nightmares were uncommon for the freshman class of Yuuei. They’d seen plenty of things, heard and felt and witnessed enough travesty in their lives to last them a lifetime. But Midoriya Izuku was screaming, and no one, not even Bakugo Katsuki could ignore it.

Bridges by supercrunch | 18,018 | Bakugou is signed up for a Calvin Klein modeling gig. The thing is, they really do need the money. And Katsuki's technically the leader of this bunch of morons, so he finds himself taking the job even though his pride will never recover. And even though nobody thought to tell him that he'd be working with his ex-boyfriend. You know, the cute freckled guy from high school who went and broke his heart. So, yeah. This whole situation kind of sucks.

objective truth by mamalade | 15,390 | Izuku gets hit with a truth quirk, as one does. He seems to be handling it well—until Katsuki shows up.

catharsis by dollcewrites | 15,071 | It's been six years since Izuku graduated.It's been six years since he confessed to his childhood friend; his classmate and his inspiration. It's been six years since he deleted Bakugou's number, asked his friends not to mention the name, spent every last effort of his heart turning off the TV and averting his eyes from the newspapers. It's been six, long, long years since he gave up on Katsuki Bakugou ever loving him back.

Here here, my friends and me (You are my familia) by Jeka | 128,832 | Bakugou Katsuki has made a great job of ignoring the fact that he is tragically in love with Deku, someone who could never love him like that and let's face it, he doesn't deserve. Now that he can't ignore it anymore, he has to find a way to keep his childhood friend and move on for his own sake. Or so he had thought, maybe he can have Deku, after all. Izuku has everything he always wanted in life. But suddenly he has to navigate the most important relationship in his life through different eyes.

Canon World – Jealous!

Hands Off by SaysiWrites | 7,140 | When a new girl at school starts flirting with Bakugou, his friends quickly become invested in the idea of their friend experiencing love - even if he doesn't seem at all interested in her. What they don't see is Midoriya fuming in the background. But how can he get rid of her when they've spent so long keeping their relationship a secret?

Surfaces by surveycorpsjean | 25,225 | Katsuki has a new girlfriend, but something isn't right. As impossible as it is, Izuku can't help but wonder what it'd be like to be called Katsuki's girl.

Green-Eyed Beast by SecretKiwi | 4,721 | Everyone wants a piece of Katsuki Bakugou, but they should beware of the Green-eyed beast always lurking close behind him.

Green with Envy by Sol_Morales707 | 2,611 | Izuku Midoriya is not as innocent and pure as everyone thinks he is. The truth was he was very jealous and willing to do anything for a certain blonde.

Happy Camper by Arysa | 7,074 | Wanting a break from the stress of dealing with the rookie Pro Hero grind, a handful of students from Class A decide to go on a camping trip. Izuku's excited to relax and catch up with everyone, especially Kacchan. But, well, Kacchan's... Kacchan. And dating Kirishima.

How to stop time: kiss by Teddingtons | 31,693 | Deku finally asks Uraraka out. Everyone's supportive except Bakugou who can't even look him in the eye. Deku seeks him out after and is hit with truth.

What I Deserve by s_the_queen | 16,671 | When Izuku starts dating a student in General Studies, everyone is happy for him. She's super sweet and really caring. But something doesn't sit right with Katsuki.

Deku's Already Fucking Taken by asdfjkl129 | 20,704 | 5 times people don't realize that Deku is already in a very happy relationship and try their hand at asking him out, and then in Bakugou's unique and special style, get very firmly corrected, +1 time where no correction is needed.

His by sister_elric | 6,206 | Izuku would like to consider himself a pretty level headed individual. Sure, he had the occasional tunnel vision, especially when it came to training. And hero work. And Kacchan. But, overall, Midoriya felt as though he typically kept his cool. Well, maybe that was a stretch. But, at the very least he could understand his own emotions. So, it surprised even him when an unfamiliar emotion coursed through him as a first year approached his boyfriend, Katsuki.

Down the Red Line by MinervaHope | 7,804 | Izuku has been able to see the red strings of fate since birth. It's no surprise that his is connected to Katsuki.

Canon World – Fake Relationship Goes Wrong

how he should’ve known (and how it turned out) by vannral | 43,918 | In which Katsuki and Izuku pretend to be a couple to avoid journalists, the plan backfires magnificently because of course it does, and the act goes on. Includes feelings, pining, domestic fluff and jealousy.

Vicious by feelslikefire | 105,173 | Midoriya and Bakugou wind up in the very last position either of them thought they'd be in: Hero Partners. It's not fun, but they learn to cope. Their first big assignment together takes them undercover to infiltrate a cult, but the situation turns out far more sinister than they first thought.

What I can never tell you by Mikacrispy | 27,067 | After living in the US for 5 years, Izuku returns to take care of a concussed Bakugou who believes they're engaged. Now, Izuku has to pretend he's in a relationship with the man he's loved for most of his life, knowing that it's just a matter of time until Katsuki gets better and realizes it's all a lie.

Not-Dating by MiraChaDoodles | 14,290 | Katsuki takes Deku on a not-date to save his career, only to find himself wishing it were real.

we'll do the things that lovers do by ethereals | 29,544 | Izuku gets an invitation to Shouto's wedding and Katsuki is PISSED that he asks Kirishima to be his date (also he wasn't even fucking invited

Canon World – Friends With Benefits (?)

Four Times Bakugou Katsuki Doesn't Intend to Sleep With Midoriya Izuku (And the One Time that He Does) by fallingraine85 | 17,601 | He hadn’t planned for any of this. He isn’t about to go delving into the ball of yarn that is Midoriya Izuku’s heart; he isn’t equipped to try and untangle and make sense of it all. He isn’t about to try to analyze how he’s feeling about all of this, either.... How many times can you repeat the same mistake?

We Wear Chains on the Weekend by surveycorpsjean | 35,086 | Well, in a day of revelations, it turns out that Izuku isn't as vanilla as Katsuki previously thought. Unfortunately, that fascinating discovery is overshadowed by Izuku's dumbassery, because he has zero concept of aftercare."Don't go to anyone else," Katsuki says, because screw it. He can do a better job anyways. Or; Katsuki finds Izuku on a bad drop.

Just for Now by Shiro_Kabocha | 48,135 | Katsuki's parents are out of town over a school break and to keep him from getting up to any shenanigans, they ask Izuku to house sit with him. What are two teenaged boys to do when left alone to their own devices? (Bonus+ the entire Just for Love series)

safe in the darkness by yoonskisses | 20,855 | Izuku and Katsuki had been meeting up secretly for months, with absolutely no feelings involved. Or so Katsuki thought at least. The dorm gossip about Ochaco and Izuku's new relationship seemed to set a spanner in the works for their arrangement.

Alternative Universe – No Quirks

Bluebird by EtherealBeing | 53,108 | Dialing a wrong number was no unusual occurrence. Everyone did it once in a while, and Katsuki was well aware of that fact. However, possessing this knowledge made it no less aggravating for him to discover — a full two minutes into his rant about his day — that he’d been venting his frustrations to a complete stranger. As if that wasn't enough, said stranger was also inexplicably determined to hear his story to its end.

Someone Borrowed by mynameis152 | 138,996 | It felt like hours that he stared at Izuku, coming to terms with the fact that a man, his childhood best friend, whom he hadn’t seen since their senior year of high school, was there in front of his very eyes. Then his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched before he uttered through gritted teeth the very name Izuku had longed to hear for years. “Deku.”

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie | 51,598 | Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Manage Me by Justaperson1718 | 10,756 | Izuku becomes Katsuki’s model agent.

Don't Set Your Drink Down by Crandberrycrush | 88,424 | With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

Livewire by pretty_rekless | 18,160 | Per Ochako's request, Izuku downloads a gay dating app in hopes to finally find a partner. Except every single one of his leads keep ghosting him or standing him up... That is until one hot, fiery blond enters the chat. Grindr/Tinder AU fic.

Drinking Watermelon by warschach | 8,906 | Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Precious Pet by Mikacrispy | 6,379 | When broke college student Midoriya Izuku found a job that offered lodging, food, and good pay for four hours of work each day, he thought it was too good to be true. But he called anyway. Turns out all he has to do is to be the spoiled little puppy of a rich businessman.

Our Eleven Summers by Dark_Mage_Ayumu | 34,472 | The first time Katsuki met Izuku was when he was eight. For the next eleven years, Izuku changed his life, and no one even knew. Their relationship was something they shared in secret.

sticky note crushes by ladyofsnails | 3,239 | Katsuki hates his roommate. The green-haired, freckled, artsy son of a bitch with his dumb pun t-shirts and paint-stained hands he can’t fucking keep to himself. Katsuki can’t leave a single assignment or paper out in his room because that idiot will just grab anything to draw on it. He’s like a shark that can’t stop swimming else it’ll die – he can’t stop drawing. Ever.

Don't Play Pretend by SweetSide | 10,103 | Actor AU: Deku and Bakugou get the leading roles for an upcoming TV Drama. They weren’t aware that they would be working with each other for who knows how long. It would’ve been completely fine if they weren’t exes.

97.6 FM by jamjars | 32,249 | Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Read {between} Your Lines by greatcloudninja | 52,252 | Midoriya Izuku, up-and-coming actor, has finally hit his big break (...), Bakugou Katsuki, who has been acting for over twenty years.However, Bakugou seems to have it out for Izuku, leading to tension both on and off set. When some incriminating photos surface, the studio suggests (...): having Bakugou and Midoriya fake a relationship to get ahead of the rumors.

I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts by PassingShadow | 5,522 | Izuku is a professional cuddler and Katsuki is his new client that’s just a little rough around the edges, and needs a natural healing touch.

Alternative Universe – Quirkless Deku

A Good Old-Fashioned Tattoo AU by lalazee | 14,437 | After their paths had split, Bakugou & Deku meet again as adults. While Bakugou begins to repent for the kid he used to be, he also starts to prove himself as he the man he is now.

Call Me a Safe Bet (I'm Betting I'm Not) by WTTTD | 10,803 | He wished he had some sort of heads up before seeing Deku again for the first time after nearly two years, looking like the essence of a lazy Sunday, smiling and surrounded with brand new, adoring friends. It was a little fitting that Katsuki burned for him so badly. (Support Department Deku)

In Which Kacchan Has a Ruff Time by OneshotPrincess | 14,511 | Bakugou Katsuki gets quirked into a dog, gets adopted by an unknowing Izuku and generally has a very rough few days full of realizations

While You Were Sleeping by Belkacaramelka (annabelleg) | 71,197 | The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Let Me Assist You Personally by Seeress | 32,806 | Izuku is long-suffering Personal Assistant to #1 Pro Hero Dynamight.Dynamight can't keep a PA to save his career. They all quit crying after a few days weeks. Enter, Izuku—with enough money problems to brave the jaws of the cranky beast. Childhood friend turned glorified paid slave. Somehow it all works out. ‘Kill them with kindness’, his mom had told him once. If that were true, Bakugou Katsuki would be stone-cold dead by now.

Smile For The Camera by kurokonekokilled | 19,179 | Midnight has a cam site, home to millions of users, but one catches Katsuki's eye when he goes scrolled through it in search for something to help him release a little stress. A live stream and the best orgasm of his life later, his wallet is lighter, and he might be almost as obsessed with this Deku guy as the cam boy is with him.

Just Like The Comics by brichibi | 24,935 | Where Izuku works at a comic book shop because that’s as close to a hero as he’s gonna get, and Katsuki plays the part of heroic ex-boyfriend who is good at everything except winning Izuku back... maybe

Alternative Universe – Quirks

Get on my Level by Mikacrispy | 92,273 | Bakugou Katsuki is a Pro Hero whose boss demands him to take an intern. Midoriya Izuku is a UA student who needs an internship. When the two of them are put together, they learn about what it truly means to be a Hero and what it means to be in love.

A/B/O – Secret! Baby

Home by Emerald2402 | 87,214 | Midoriya Izuku left Japan in a rush, moving to America without a word to anyone else. But then almost 11 years later he arrives back Home and Bakugou Katsuki's Alpha is furious. Fuck that, Bakugou is furious, because Midoriya Izuku, an omega he tasted one time, has been keeping a very big, very blonde haired, green eyed secret.

Those Under the Same Stars by PerpetuallyPerturbed | 325,553 | When Katsuki Bakugo left Izuku Midoriya five years ago, he thought it was for forever. He put aside dreams and wishes of the omega to focus on his career. He was going to be the best hero, after all. He couldn't have an omega getting in his way. So when he's stopped on the streets one day by a pup begging for help for his mom, he isn't prepared to face what he gave up, and what the consequences of his actions were. (Quirkless Deku)

A/B/O – Quirks

Mark Me. Make Me Yours. by decadentbynature | 10,062 | Midoriya is the only Omega at UA and he's been hiding it well but there's one issue that threatens to expose him: his attraction to an Alpha, Bakugo. After being told to give some paperwork to Bakugo, Midoriya lets him into his dorm room and is immediately overwhelmed by his scent. Unable to help himself, he gives in to his urges, only to be discovered by Bakugo but instead of becoming enraged, Bakugo decides to give Midoriya exactly what he wants

Claim Me by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 114,449 | Being an Alpha has nothing to do with Katsuki's success as a Pro-Hero, the same way Deku's Omega status hasn't kept him from becoming Number Two. Secondary gender doesn't mean anything nowadays and “mating” is an antiquated practice. So when Izuku, his rival, asks Katsuki to Claim him in the middle of the night, there is only one logical thing to say. “What the fuck?”

Change of Plans by Mikacrispy | 185,965 | Alpha Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki never planned to get married to some random omega but what he wants isn't an option anymore. One for All wielder Midoriya Izuku has suffered injustice too many times and doesn't plan in allowing his secondary gender to dictate how he must live his life. Falling in love was never in the plans.

Going Feral For You by ANGIE_fic | 17,977 | Bakugou has an aggression problem that might have to do with his Alpha. His job is on the line because of it. So what do you do with a pent up Alpha? Yes.Rut. (Quirkless Izuku)

i live for you, i long for you by jeonjeonggukkkkkie | 19,165 | The five times Izuku hinted he wants Katsuki to spend his next heat with him, and the one time Katsuki took the hint.

Baby's First Bloom by ContraryBee | 44,945 | Izuku blooms for Katsuki one warm day in their third year of middle school. What follows is both boys learning about themselves, their bond, and the society they live in.

As Fate Would Have It by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 88,737 | Katsuki Bakugo had plenty of reasons why he wasn't mated yet, not that he was going to explain why to just anyone. But now, Ground Zero was running out of time. If he didn't find someone soon, he'd lose his position as a Pro-Hero and he'd never get to be #1. So, when he finds out there's a male Omega recently arrested for prostitution that's headed to prison if he too doesn't get a mate…well it must be fate. (Quirkless Izuku)

A/B/O – No Quirks

Gravity by warschach | 71,477 | Izuku is back in his hometown and plenty hasn't changed much from the 8 years he was gone. Except, Katsuki Bakugou, the alpha king of their small town. He's hotter- because that's fair, right, God? -, stronger, a now-famous pro fighter, and noticeably nicer this round.Not that he cares, pfft. (Fine, he cares.)

Nine Months by greatcloudninja | 23,303 | Omega Midoriya Izuku connects with Alpha Bakugou Katsuki through an online singles ad. Izuku pays Katsuki to help him with his heat, ending up pregnant in the process. What follows is a pregnancy filled with ups and downs, but whatever hurdles come their way, they can make it through together.

The long dark by Ominous-Anonymous (Ominonymous) | 13,289 | He could have been really dangerous. He could be a fucking murderer for all he knew. But Izuku Midoriya, ever the reckless daredevil, was not thinking of that when he got into a car with a complete stranger. Completely ignoring the part where his mother always taught him to never gets into cars with alphas he didn't know...

#bakudeku #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #katsudeku #holy shit i can't believe i did this #mizutori’s personal post archive #bakudeku fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #alpha bakugou #omega izuku #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist post #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #archive of our own #ao3

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cricketburger · 2 years ago

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Kinda related to the other thing I was talking about:

The fact that I can’t differentiate canon and fanon like where’d my media literacy go

I’ll start it now off with some anecdotes that a lot of people can relate to probably and then get more obscure as we get on okay??

Common hcs that I forget aren’t real

- Thomas is bisexual (idk where this one even came from but everyone just accepted it)

- Abe listens to weezer (look at him!!)

- Craig isn’t Peruvian (white Craig fanart always throws me off)

- Kenny doesn’t have freckles or scars (he’d fit freckles and also I hc he’d get a scar every time he dies like a bullet shaped one or one on his head from the chainsaw)

- Mike isn’t trans??? (Genuinely everyone I’ve seen agrees with that one)

Okay now the more obscure ones and Mandela effects I’ve forced upon myself (might as well divide them into fandoms):

The owl house:

These are all hunter ones because I like him the most

- Hunter texts like an old man and posts really blurry photos on penstagram

This one comes from a Headcanon I have relating to Melly that she’s the really tech savvy one and creates new slang in ever text and hunter is like a literal caveman like bro probably didn’t even know about electricity until he was 14

Lke melly prbly txts like ths 2 save time n all her txts

AN.d H un T3r TexTs.likethis be,aues hes nevER USEDA0hone be froe

- he also gives really heartfelt apologies for really silly things like

‘Dearest Luz, I am deeply apologetic towards you for my use of the phrase ‘Fatherless Behaviour’ towards you this morning. I was informed by Gus that it was a funny phrase used by humans towards people who are fans of the popular Minecraft Youtuber, Dreamwastaken, which you have mentioned to me that you enjoy. Thus, I found using the phrase to be appropriate for the situation. I was unaware that it had bad undertones however, as I had not been informed about the passing of your father. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. - Hunter.’

- Also all 3 of the blights ratio him on literally everything like he’ll tweet about what happened to Flapjack and they’ll have successfully ratioed him 1931029:1 in 30 seconds

South park:

Okay let me tell you there’s a lot of these so buckle in:

For context, most of these (all) come from a crack episode me and my sister thought up last year about a costume day, so they’re all really stupid and ooc ones (even more so than hunter’s)

- Craig is a huge Hamilton Stan

He absolutely went through a phase from 2016-18, this alongside Bmc and Heathers made him realise he was gay (he probably kinned Laurens and Michael and then realised why like 3 years later and was definitely into JD) his favourite song is what’d I miss and had to buy more storage because of the amount of Hamilton memes on his phone

- On the other hand, Mr Mackey despises LMM with a burning passion

This one started out as a joke where he threatens to expel Craig for liking Hamilton (‘if you come into my office talking about Lin Manuel Miranda I will expel you) but next time it was brought up it was misremembered as Kill so then it snowballed into this weed of a man threatening nuclear genocide on the universe at the mention of this man?? But he does gen seem like the kinda guy who doesn’t like Hamilton (principal Victoria would love it though she’d be super enthusiastic about the inclusion and stuff (not a pc principal level though))

- Principal Victoria is the worlds most performative activist

I drew fanart of her standing next to Craig in a hospital bed holding a pride flag like ‘get well soon!! Please don’t tell your parents about this!! I’m an ally!!’ (Context: she nearly accidentally killed him)

- Kyle and Stan don’t have really high pitched voices, Clyde doesn’t sound like a Chad, and Cartman doesn’t sound like a grater

Context: nobody involved in the voice cast of RotBC can voice act

Bonus, which isn’t from RotBC: Mysterion and Pip aren’t actually best friends and Kenny actually hates him as much as anyone else

#South Park #the owl house #toh #bbc ghosts #clone high #headcanons #fanfiction #Hamilton #rambling #cricketburger

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bluefirewrites · 3 years ago

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An old Juke riff from the Triad chat. Includes Luke bugging Julie at school and mushy times. ************ Arms wrap around her and Julie freezes in her desk, but the scent of lemongrass soap helps her relaxes into the hold.

"Calculus test? Lame"

"Luke" she hisses, making sure she's not loud enough to disrupt her classmates... or flag the attention of her teacher.

The ghost lowers his head so he's directly speaking into her ear, "Just wanted to wish you luck..."

Chancing it, she shifts to face him, eyes flitting upwards to take in his face- always ever smiling, whether it'd be genuine or straight up roguish.

"Really? Is that all you wanted to do?"

She's never been more grateful she's in the far back corner of the room...

He does a quick scan of the surrounding desks.

“Maybe I came here to offer my services as your favorite ghost?"

She shakes her head, "No cheating."

Feeling his chin wedge in the crook of her neck, she knows he's pouting.

"Buuuut if you finish sooner then we can do some writing in class,"

She glances up at notices the teacher making his rounds. They need to wrap this up.

"Wait for me at home, okay?"

"Home," he repeats. She likes how he says it. She thinks he likes how it sounds too, "Home it is, boss. Catcha ya later."

With a last squeeze on her shoulder, the weight of him disappears.

Even with all the pleas for him to leave so she can proceed with class, Julie wishes he was still there...

She doesn’t have to wish for it though because as soon as class ended and Julie finished her test, Luke was chilling by her locker. “I thought I told you-” A couple people turn around, thinking she’s talking to them and she feigns clueless and looks around until they walked away. Flushed, her phone’s out and pressed to her ear as she approaches the ghost. “I thought I told you to go home, Luke,” “Yeah. I did,” Julie wedges the phone between her ear and shoulder, opening her locker and grabbing what she needs for next period, “What you’ve decided to make this spot in the hallway home?” Sparing only the briefest glances at Luke, she catches a moment of hesitation. A hint of vulnerability. And he says it. “Maybe I just like following home around?” BANG Julie slams her locker shut in shock upon hearing the words. And they were candid. So candid. Not as vague as ‘interesting little relationship’, nothing to misconstrue here. Oh my god. He really just said- She remains frozen, her phone having dropped from and hitting the ground, and she’s staring at Luke, not saying a word, and he immediately tries to backtrack his previous statement. “That was weird. Yup. That was too much. Forget- forget I said anything-” “Luke-” she tries to whisper. He thinks for a second and then he backtracks his backtracking, “You know what? I’m not taking it back. I- I that’s how I feel and-” “Uh, Luke-?” “We could so talk about this later, ‘cuz you’re still in school and I bet that’s weird to spring this on you now and- and...” He stops, noticing her eyes emoting a sense of urgency, “What- what is it?”

"I- I can't open my locker"

Luke's eyes widen, "What?" The ghost optically tracks her ponytail, and sees that while he’s been rambling she’s been trying to break free.

Apparently in her panic, she had accidentally shut her locker on her hair.

“Oh my god,” Julie grimaces, “Yup.”

She angles her head and shoots her peers an oh so casual smile at them, pretending to be leaning against the locker when, in actuality, she's actually stuck. If there’s a word for extreme mortification, this, this right here, is it.

It ate away so much of her hair that she could barely move her head to look at her lock to put the combination in so there she remains. Now she’s debating whether or not to expose her dumb mistake by waving over someone. It’s already too much having Luke here witnessing this. She tugs at her trapped strands and immediately winces and Luke’s by her side instantly.

"Ok ok ok. Don’t move," Luke jumps to her rescue, "Sit tight, I got this."

Then, Julie, trying not to visibly react to his arm phasing through her locker, patiently waits for Luke to fiddle with the locking mechanism, until she hears the click.

She's able to throw open her locker and release her ponytail. Luke's hands hover over her, "Are you okay?"

Massaging her scalp, she nods, "Yeah. Thank you. Sorry, I spazzed and it just-" You said I was home... and I freaked... "Don't worry about it," He tries to not make a big deal out of it. The bell rings and Julie realizes that the typical hallway traffic has thinned out. She’s going to be late for dance. “I need to go,” “Yup,” Luke pops the ‘p’, shifting between his feet awkwardly. “I’ll see you later?” “Sure,” Neither of them make the move to leave. Luke doesn’t poof away immediately. Julie should be going to class, but she stills. She’s waiting. Until there’s no one left in the hallway. Then, she pops onto her tip-toes and presses a quick kiss to Luke’s cheek, baffling him. “Wh- Wh-?” He couldn’t form words, reaching for the spot where lips have been. She laughs while a blush breaks out on her face, “I don’t want you to take it back either...” Luke starts laughing too, one of pure elation and Julie could see he’s already bouncing on his heels. She hears footsteps coming down the hallway, “We will talk about this later, Luke.” “R-Right.” “At home,” “Yup,” she nudges him, “And you’ll be waiting?” Luke’s eyes soften, “Always.” With that he poofs out ( he may have let out a loud ‘whoop’ as he did). And Julie stoops to collect her phone (whether or not it has a crack in it, she doesn’t care), shoulders her backpack, and books it to the locker room. It’s only her 4th period, but she already can’t wait for the day to be over. The sooner she gets back home, the better. Tagging: @blush-and-books, @lydias--stiles , @thedeathdeelers, @ruzek-halstead, @pink-flame, @ourstarscollided, @nottheleastbrave, @echocharm17618 @smolfangirl

#juke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie x luke #luke x julie #palina #juke-box #i was reminded by these two riffs i did and connected them and added a few more things to it #we need a little cuteness

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bubonickitten · 4 years ago

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Fic summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter summary: The process(es) of resigning from a terrible, no good, very bad assistant position.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Full chapter text & content warnings below the cut.

Content warnings for Chapter 22: discussions of eye-gouging/eye horror (not graphic); brief mentions of spiders/arachnophobia; anxiety/panic symptoms; lots of dissociation/dpdr; Peter Lukas being a manipulative shit; Lonely-typical content (including fear of abandonment & some abysmal self-esteem on Martin’s part); allusions to police violence & Hunt-related themes (re: Daisy’s past actions); swears. SPOILERS through Season 5.

Chapter 22: Resignation

Georgie paces in a slow circle, alternating between biting her nails and picking at her bottom lip – entirely immersed in her own thoughts, judging from the faraway look in her eyes. Jon hasn’t seen her this overwrought since the last depressive episode he witnessed. Just watching her is enough to make his chest tighten with vicarious unrest.

Wary of contributing to a vicious feedback loop between the two of them with his own customary pacing and handwringing, he forces himself to keep his knees locked and hands at his sides. Still, he can’t help rubbing his fingertips together and rocking minutely on the balls of his feet.

“Why don’t we sit?” Jon finally interjects, wincing when it comes out more curtly than he intended – more like a command than a suggestion, but luckily without any accompanying static.

Be mindful, he silently chides himself: being on edge like this only makes him more susceptible to accidental compulsion.

“What if something goes wrong?” Georgie whispers. Jon doubts she even heard him beneath her nervous refrain. “What if –”

“Georgie?” Jon tries again. No response. He steps into her path and places a hand on her shoulder. “Georgie.”

“What?” Georgie raises her head, but she isn’t looking at him so much as she’s looking through him.

“I think you should sit down?”

“What?” Georgie says again, sounding utterly lost. Her eyes are darting around the room now, as if she doesn’t recognize her surroundings.

How the tables have turned, Jon thinks grimly.

“Come on,” he says, taking her hand and guiding her to the nearest chair. She offers no resistance, trailing behind him like a flagging balloon. When he presses on her shoulder to coax her into a sitting position, she goes easily. Keeping hold of her hand, he drags another chair closer to her and takes a seat.

Okay. Now what?

Jon jiggles his leg as he wracks his brain for the right thing to say. She deserves more than handholding and awkward silence, but soothing words have never come naturally to him.

“Do you, ah… do you want to talk about it?” Jon cringes at his faltering delivery. “I’m sorry, I’m – I’m still not very good at this,” he adds with a self-deprecating laugh – then immediately shuts his eyes, kicking himself. Why are his attempts to relate to others always so clumsy and – and weirdly self-centered? “I mean –”

“I’m scared,” Georgie blurts out.

“You… what?” Jon tilts his head. “But I thought – you don’t feel –”

“Fear?” Her clipped, brittle laugh dies in her throat. “No, I don’t. And that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?”

Jon strokes the back of her hand with one thumb, but remains silent. She always elaborates on her own time, given some space to order her thoughts.

“I don’t feel… terror,” she says slowly. “After I had my… encounter, I did a lot of research on how the brain works. Trying to understand what was happening to me, you know?”

Jon nods. He’s intimately familiar with that urge. As a child, he went through a spider phase, as his grandmother called it, obsessively seeking out any information he could on them, hoping even then that he could conquer his fear if only he could see the world through a detached, academic lens. There were plenty of academic odes to the spider to be found; no shortage of enamored arachnologists waxing poetic about the wonders of evolution and the vital role that arachnids play in their particular ecological niches.

Unfortunately, a phobia – especially one arising from acute trauma – tends to be resistant to reason and reality. His obsession only ever yielded heart palpitations and lucid nightmares. Despite that failure, he never stopped clinging to that idea that if only he could know everything there was to know about a thing, he could finally scrape together some semblance of control over his fear.

In many ways, that fixation is exactly what drew him to the Magnus Institute.

Unless the Spider really was pulling the strings all along, he thinks, and then: No, we are not going there.

“As far as I can tell,” Georgie continues, “my sympathetic nervous system still functions. I can still experience all the physiological aspects of sympathetic arousal – and fear is only one possible trigger for those sorts of responses. What’s missing is my capacity to interpret those responses through the lens of fear. To emotionally process or identify them as fear.

“I can still experience anxiety, to an extent – or something close to it. But mostly in the context of worrying about others, being scared for them. I mean, I can feel apprehensive about the possibility of experiencing pain or loss or failure myself, I have a stake in my continued existence, I can recognize danger, but sometimes it feels… I don’t know – mechanical, almost? There’s just always the feeling of something missing. Something important. And there are times when I feel that void more acutely.”

“Like now.”

“Yeah.” Georgie looks away, chewing her lip in silence.

“I’m listening,” Jon coaxes, sensing that there’s more she’s holding back.

“It’s just… hard to feel like a full person sometimes, you know?” Georgie says helplessly. “I worry sometimes that it – I don’t know, does a disservice, I guess, to the people I care about? Like no matter how much I love someone, it isn’t… complete? Or – genuine, in the right way? It’s – hard to find words that actually describe it. There are times when it feels like I’ve lost something vital that made me human, that made me me, and it’s… difficult to reconcile who I was – who I could have been – with who I am now.”

“That I understand,” Jon says softly.

“I know.” Jon wishes he was less familiar with the sad smile she gives him just then. “It’s just… I remember a time when I would have been terrified of all this. Not just worried, or upset about someone I care about being hurt, or devastated by the prospect of losing someone I love. Terrified. And knowing what I should be feeling – what I would have felt at some point – is… it’s unnerving. There’s a void there that shouldn’t be there. It’s like… having part of you gouged out and left hollow. An absence that’s so present it’s almost visceral.” She frowns. “Does that make any sense?”

“In my future I had a Flesh Avatar reach into my chest and wrench out two of my ribs, so… yes, actually.”

Georgie blinks several times, then laughs breathlessly. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” Jon returns a cautious smile, but the levity evaporates after a few seconds. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that you don’t have to have access to the full spectrum of human emotion in order to count as human. And I don’t think any of this makes your concern for others any less heartfelt, or – or comforting. You might not be the same person you were before you were marked, but that doesn’t make you any lesser as a person.”

“You should try applying that metric to yourself sometime,” she replies, not unkindly.

“It’s –”

“Don’t say it’s different,” she cuts in. “Just… keep it in mind, okay?”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll try.” Georgie nods, but says nothing. Jon grips her hand a little tighter. “Listen, I – I know you’re worried for Melanie, but I think it’s going to be alright? I can’t predict the future –well, I have knowledge of one possible future, but that’s because I lived it. I don’t have any precognitive abilities, or anything like that. But… it turned out okay last time.”

Until I jump-started an apocalypse –

Jon reins in the thought before it can gain momentum. Georgie doesn’t need his brooding right now.

“Melanie is a fighter,” he says instead, offering a tentative smile. “And she has you.”

Georgie shakes her head. “I can’t believe you came out of the apocalypse sappier than you were when you went in.”

“Side effect of traversing a post-apocalyptic wasteland with a hopeless romantic, I think.” That gets another little chuckle out of Georgie. “I mean it, though. I think Melanie will be okay, especially with you looking out for her. Not to mention, the Admiral is a perpetual serotonin generator.”

“You really miss him, huh?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve pet a cat, Georgie?” Jon practically whines, playfully dramatic. It manages to keep the amused smile on Georgie’s face, he’s pleased to note.

“Maybe I should bring him by sometime.”

“Absolutely not. This place doesn’t deserve him.” Georgie snorts. Although Jon is reluctant to ruin the temporary shift in mood, this is as good a time as any to broach a subject he’s been dreading. “Also, I, ah… I don’t want you to feel obligated to continue visiting here.”

“What?” Georgie says, eyes narrowed.

“If you have to take a step back,” Jon says carefully, “I’ll understand.”

“I mean, I might not be able to come by as often as I have been, especially while Melanie is still recovering, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be around at all.” Georgie’s frown deepens. “I’m not about to cut you out of my life, Jon.”

“I know. And I don’t want you to. But – no, listen,” Jon insists, seeing Georgie about to protest. “What I’m trying to say is – I know Melanie wants to put as much distance between herself and the Institute as possible. If it turns out that you staying involved in all of this is too close to home, then… well, I don’t want her to feel like she’s still trapped in the Institute’s orbit, is all.”

Or mine, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t want to be a reason for Melanie to feel unsafe. In the past, he has been – and that’s not who he wants to be.

These days, Melanie has come to view him more as a fellow captive than a complicit enemy. Lingering resentment still sparks to life from time to time; she still struggles with her anger, and once or twice, she’s had to leave a room for fear of that rage boiling over. Overall, though, she no longer directs the majority of her ire towards him. When they do butt heads, it hasn’t gone much further than bickering – and even that feels comforting in its familiarity and mundanity. Almost companionable, in its own way.

Most significantly, ever since their talk, Melanie hasn’t once likened him to Jonah Magnus. Jon doesn’t know if that’s because it’s no longer an automatic association at the forefront of her mind, or because she’s consciously watching her words around him, actively taking care to avoid tripping that perpetual trigger. Either way, Jon is grateful.

But Jon also knows that he’s inseparable from the Institute. Despite his intentions, and regardless of whether or to what degree the others hold him personally responsible, the fact remains: he’s embroiled in something unspeakably evil, and that poses a danger to anyone who stands too close to him.

Georgie doesn’t immediately respond, instead taking the time to seriously consider his words. He’s always appreciated that about her, as uneasy as these moments of silent suspense can make him.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” she says eventually, “once she’s recovered enough to have that discussion. I don’t know how she’ll feel about staying in direct contact herself, especially at first, but… I doubt she expects me to cut you off. And I imagine she’ll still want to know how everyone is doing, even if she doesn’t want the details.” She glances up to meet his eyes. “Anyway, regardless of how often I visit in person, I’m still going to be checking in with you, so answer your damn phone, will you?”

“I do answer my phone,” he says defensively. “I just… forget to answer texts sometimes. And I don’t get service in the tunnels –”

“Well, come up for air and cell service from time to time.” She wrinkles her nose. “Honestly, I don’t know how you can tolerate being down here for hours on end –”

Jon startles slightly as the trapdoor creaks open above their heads. Georgie stands as Melanie makes her way down the ladder, hurrying over to fold her into her arms. Basira follows behind, closing the trapdoor behind her as she goes.

“Mission successful, I take it?” Jon says quietly as Basira approaches him, giving Georgie and Melanie a moment to themselves.

“Uneventful,” Basira says with a shrug. “A few sidelong glances, but otherwise, none of the library staff even acknowledged us. Definitely didn’t seem keen on asking why we were rummaging in the repair supplies.”

“They probably didn’t want to know.”

“Yeah.” A small, rueful smile crosses her face. “Some of them used to talk to me, you know. Nothing personal – we weren’t close – but… when I returned a book, they’d ask what I thought of it, give me recommendations, that sort of thing. Now, though…”

These days she prefers to wait until everyone has gone home for the day before visiting the library, Jon Knows. He also Knows that the library staff are well aware that she’s the one pilfering research materials in the dead of night – and that they have no plans on confronting her about it. She never leaves a mess, after all, and always returns items to their proper places once she’s finished with them, which is more than can be said for many of the students who make use of the library’s resources.

“You know, I don’t think any of them have looked me in the eye for months.” There’s a distinct note of regret in Basira’s voice. “They just watch me out of the corners of their eyes when they think I’m not looking. I don’t know if that’s because they’re afraid of Lukas disappearing them for fraternizing, or because everyone is leery of the Archives these days, or because I’ve just become less approachable. Maybe all three. Suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

Jon knows the feeling well. Before he can answer, though, Melanie clears her throat. Jon looks over to see her facing his direction, one hand clasping Georgie’s tight enough to blanch her knuckles.

“This is it, then,” Basira says solemnly.

“Yeah.” Melanie closes her eyes and breathes a long, shaky exhale. “It’s time.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me there?” Georgie asks.

Melanie shakes her head. “I don’t want you to see that.”

“But –”

“She won’t be alone,” Basira says. “I’ll be right outside the room.”

Melanie faces Georgie fully, taking her other hand as well. “The plan hasn’t changed. Basira will call 999. I’ll make it quick, and – once it’s done, Basira will come in and sit with me until the ambulance gets here.”

“I have a general idea of what the response time should be like,” Basira adds, looking at Georgie. “If we time it right, Melanie will have medical assistance within minutes. I can come get you when the paramedics get here, if you want to ride in the ambulance.”

Georgie nods and tightens her grip on Melanie’s hands. “Is that okay?”

“Only if you want,” Melanie says haltingly. “But – maybe try to avoid looking too close, if my eyes are uncovered? It’s just – it probably won’t be pretty.” A stressed laugh claws its way out of her throat. “Potential trauma fodder, you know? I don’t want to worry about you remembering me like that every time you see me, even after I’ve healed.”

“Okay,” Georgie replies softly.

“It shouldn’t take long. Just – wait here with Jon until then, okay?” Georgie nods again, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Speaking of which –” Melanie glances at Jon, as if just now remembering his presence. Startled by the sudden direct eye contact, he reflexively straightens his spine and stands at attention. “I guess this is goodbye, huh? For a while, anyway.”

“I, uh. I suppose it is.”

“Right. So, um… good luck, I guess?”

No disclaimers or ill will tacked on this time, Jon notes privately.

“You too.” He forces a smile, but he suspects that it comes off as awkward rather than reassuring.

“Try not to die.”

“Yes, ‘not dying’ is relatively close to the top of my to-do list.”

“If I come to find out that you’ve gotten yourself killed and broken the eldritch employment contract binding us all to this place after I’ve gone and gouged my eyes out, I’m going to be livid.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Jon says wryly.

“Seriously, though.” Melanie’s smirk melts away, taken over by a somber, quiet sort of intensity. “Either beat Elias at his own game, or get the fuck away from this place the instant you find an out. Whichever comes first. Preferably without any of the self-sacrificial bullshit.”

Fractious as its delivery is, the demand is oddly touching, coming from Melanie.

“I, uh… I’ll do my best?”

“You’d better.” Melanie nods – a curt but cordial dismissal – and turns her attention back to Georgie. “Hey,” she says, her voice going measurably softer, releasing one of Georgie’s hands to reach up and cup her face. Her watery smile belies her mental state: resolve warring with trepidation. “Look at me?”

For a long minute, she studies Georgie’s face, clearly enraptured. Jon forcefully tears his gaze away from the intimacy of the moment.

“Okay.” Melanie takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “I’m ready. I’ll see you soon, okay? Or – well, I won’t see you, but – you’ll see me, and I’ll…” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, whatever – you know what I mean.”

Georgie lets out a tearful chuckle, and Melanie relaxes marginally.

“I’m sure about this,” she says. “I promise. This is what I want – a life with you, away from all of this. And if this is the price I have to pay, then… I’m okay with that. Really, I am.” She stands on tiptoe to give Georgie a peck on the cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie says, leaning down for a return kiss, smiling weakly against Melanie’s lips. “See you soon.”

When Martin first heard the bustle outside his door – coworkers venturing outside their solitary offices to trade whispered questions and eager gossip as word of paramedics in the archives made its way upstairs – his stomach gave a little lurch: a combination of horror and wonder. He hadn’t expected Melanie to change her mind – he knows how determined she can be once she’s settled on a course of action; how desperate she was to extricate herself from Elias’ – Jonah’s – schemes. Still, though, faced with the reality of it, he found himself in awe of her nerve.

That was yesterday. Martin didn’t get much work done, preoccupied as he was. He isn’t having an easier time of it today: his attention keeps slipping away to linger in remembrances of sterile hospital rooms and muted hallways, thoughts drowned out by the ghosts of sirens and beeping machinery.

“Well, this is an unexpected turn of events.”

Martin jolts in his seat, heart leaping into his throat. It only takes an instant longer for his alarm to mutate into aggravation.

“Peter!” Martin spins around to glower at the man. “How many times do I have to–”

Peter flaps a dismissive hand. “To be honest, Martin, the drop in temperature tends to tip most people off. The only reason you continue to be surprised by my arrival is because you’ve become acclimated to the Forsaken.”

The revelation is slow to sink in, a stark chill blooming in Martin’s chest and snaking its roots outwards. Only now that it’s been brought to his attention can he feel the nip in the air.

“Here I was certain you were becoming estranged from our patron, but it seems I needn’t have worried.” Peter’s smile is laced with malice. “Or should I?”

Martin says nothing, eyes wide and stinging from the now-conspicuous cold. Peter sighs, folds his hands behind his back, and begins a meandering back-and-forth pace.

“Our success is dependent on your voluntary isolation, Martin.”

“Yeah.” The word turns to fog as it touches the air, and Martin finds himself transfixed by the sight. “You’ve said.”

“It seems you need a reminder.”

The condescension dripping from the words is enough to drag Martin back into the present moment. Heat rises in his cheeks, contrasting with the temperature in the room and making the chill that much more noticeable.

“You still haven’t told me your plan,” he snaps. “You keep expecting me to just – go along with whatever you’re scheming, no questions asked.”

“You ask many questions, Martin –”

“Yeah, and you never answer them! You’re so – so bloody cryptic about all of this.”

“Martin, Martin,” Peter says, placating in the most patronizing way possible. Martin bristles: he hates the way Peter says his name. “There’s no need to get so worked up –”

“If you want me to be a partner in – in whatever it is you’re planning, you can’t expect me to go on blind trust!”

“I’m still conducting my own research,” Peter says mildly. “I would rather not confuse you with extraneous details before I have all the kinks worked out.”

“I’m not an idiot –”

“Rest assured,” Peter interrupts, “if I was capable of stopping the Extinction alone, I would. Unfortunately, it will require someone touched by the Beholding.”

“Why?”

“Because it requires this place, and this place” – Peter’s lip curls in distaste – “is the Eye’s seat of power. The One Alone has no dominion here.” Martin crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You are the only one who can do this, Martin.”

“Why?” Martin repeats.

Judging from the muscle ticking in Peter’s jaw, his limited supply of patience for conversation is precipitously depleting.

“No, really,” Martin presses, “why me? I mean” – he spreads his arms out with a scornful chuckle – “look at me. I’m not exactly hero material, am I?”

“That really depends on you. I can’t force you to cooperate. It won’t even work unless you’re a willing participant.”

“And what makes you think that your plan is the only way? You – you keep going on about how it’s my choice. Well – what if I choose to work with the others? It can’t hurt to have more eyes on the problem –” Martin rolls his eyes at Peter’s unconcealed revulsion. “Yeah, I know. No one would ever accuse you of being a team player, obviously. But I can be the liaison; you don’t have to interact with anyone at all.” Would prefer you don’t interact with anyone at all, Martin thinks. “I mean, that’s already my role, isn’t it? Dealing with people so you don’t have to?”

“Martin,” Peter says, low and dangerous.

“I’ll do it off the clock, even. I’ll isolate myself in my office during the workday, or whatever” – Martin gives a flippant wave of his hand – “and continue researching the Extinction.” And practically running the whole damn place on an assistant’s salary, he grouses silently. “After hours I’ll pursue my own research with the others.”

“Part-time isolation will not suffice to equip you with the power you’ll need.” Peter presses his lips into a pale, rigid line. “Be reasonable. Are you really willing to risk an apocalypse, just because you can’t appreciate solitude?”

“If it starts to look like there’s no other option, I’ll reconsider.”

“And if the Extinction emerges while you’re wasting time searching for an alternative that doesn’t exist?”

“Based on the limited information you’ve given me, I don’t think the Extinction is going to just… emerge overnight. I’m still not even convinced it’s going to be worse than any other Fear. I mean, the Flesh is relatively new, isn’t it? And it didn’t… leave the fear economy in shambles, or whatever.”

“It isn’t about competition, Martin.” Peter releases a slow plume of fog through his nose before continuing, voice cool but simmering with pique just under the surface. “The Extinction is different from the other Powers. It is defined by widescale eradication. The other Powers may seek to change the world, but none of them strive for a world without us.”

“But what makes you so sure the Extinction would?”

Peter’s eyes narrow. Ignoring him, Martin runs his thumb along his bottom lip as he replays Jon’s impassioned conjectures on the matter: It thrives on the potentiality of a mass extinction event, not the fulfillment of one.

“What’s to say it wouldn’t be just fine with the world as it is, like the End?” Martin says, more confidently now. “People have been prophesying about the end of the world for – all of human history, probably. I doubt we’ll stop anytime soon. Maybe at its core the Extinction is just… the fear of an uncertain future. And a particular future doesn’t have to be realized in order to inspire fear, as long as the potential is always there. It’s about the suspense – the ‘what ifs’, the unknown, the – the lack of control in it all.” Martin laughs. “In a way, that’s… that’s what most fears boil down to, isn’t it?”

“The stakes are rather high to gamble on a thought experiment, don’t you think?” The temperature plunges a few more degrees as Peter speaks. “I think that the most important ‘what if’ you should concern yourself with is what if you’re wrong?”

“And what if I’m not?” Martin counters. “You act so authoritative, but aren’t you also just speculating? When I agreed to work with you, you told me you would provide me with evidence to support your theory. So far, I’m not convinced. You’re going to have to give me more to go on than just ‘trust me.’ I mean – if it’s between trusting you and – and trusting Jon, and the others? You can’t really be surprised if I choose them over you.”

“Oh, Martin,” Peter tuts, shaking his head with derisive, disingenuous pity. “Since when has the trust you’ve placed in others ever been reciprocated?”

“I trust him,” Martin says defiantly.

“But does he trust you?” Peter pauses for effect. “Of all the times you’ve allowed yourself to form attachments, has anyone even once genuinely returned those affections?”

Jon did.

Whatever expression Martin is wearing brings a sneer to Peter’s face. Martin clenches his teeth and ignores him.

Jon does, he corrects. Present tense. He said as much.

Martin still can’t fathom what Jon could possibly see in him, but Jon wouldn’t lie about something like that, right? He wouldn’t.

…would he?

No, he wouldn’t, Martin chides. You know he wouldn’t. Trust him.

“Sure,” Peter persists, “you may open yourself up to the potential for something more, but you know as well as I do that it won’t last. Is the inevitable loss really worth the risk?”

“I don’t know,” Martin says. He tries to ignore the slight quaver that insinuates itself into the declaration. “But if I never take the risk, I’ll never know, will I?”

“I think you already know the answer.” Peter’s pale eyes glitter with spite. “Remember what it felt like, languishing at the Archivist’s deathbed. Recall the state you were in when you first came to me.”

The words are incisive, sliding under Martin’s skin and lodging there like shrapnel. He can feel his confidence waver, the conviction he stood fast on only seconds ago splintering underneath him like thin ice.

“How many times do you think he can court death and survive? He all but died stopping the last apocalypse; he was willing to bury himself alive for a woman who tried to kill him. How do you think he’ll react if you tell him about any of this? You think he’ll listen to reason? Trust in your judgment?” Peter fixes Martin with a smug, hungry look. “Or will he throw himself in front of the first bullet he sees?”

He already knows about all of this, Martin reminds himself. Jon isn’t about to sacrifice himself on account of the Extinction. Moreover, he seems to be genuinely committed to working as a team rather than striking out on his own.

But he also sees himself as a cataclysm waiting to happen, says the nagging doubt skulking in the far corners of Martin’s mind. As much as Jon insists that he doesn’t want to die, he’s already lived through one apocalypse. Martin has no doubt that Jon would sacrifice himself to prevent another, if it came down to it.

Jon is a powder keg of fear and guilt, and there is no shortage of potential ignition sources waiting in the wings. It only takes one untimely spark to set an archive ablaze.

“I trust him,” Martin repeats to himself, but the statement is rendered feeble by the leaden, frozen knot unfurling in his chest.

“Can you really weather another round of grief?” Peter continues, triumphant. He knows he’s found a gap in Martin’s defenses; all he needs to do now is twist the knife. “You’ve already done your mourning, cut the infection off at the source. Let him back in, and you only open yourself up to more pain. Better a numbed scar than a wound that never heals, don’t you think?”

“No.” There’s something off about Martin’s voice – as if it doesn’t belong to him; as if it’s originating from outside of himself, faint and frail and faraway, smothered by the cold, empty fog clogging his lungs. “N-no, I…”

“Connection is a fleeting, fickle thing,” Peter persists. “It’s a lie people tell themselves. The truth is that we are all alone. In the end, all we have is ourselves. Think about it.”

Unthinkingly, Martin shrinks away as Peter steps closer.

“You asked for more evidence.” Peter slides a few statement folders onto the desk. “Take some time to yourself. Consider whether you’re willing to wager on the fate of the world.”

When Martin looks up, he is alone.

“It’s so loud,” Daisy mutters heatedly, stalking to and fro like a panther in a cage. She scratches furiously at her forearms as she goes, blunt fingernails leaving faint red stripes on pale skin.

“Daisy,” Jon says evenly, “I think maybe you should –”

“Itch I can’t scratch.” She pivots on her heel, retracing her short path in the opposite direction. “Feels like fire under my skin.”

“I don’t think clawing your skin off is going to help.”

Daisy barks a laugh. “With what claws?” She stops short and brandishes the backs of her trembling hands, fingers splayed to highlight nails gnawed to the quick, ragged cuticles stained rust-brown with dried blood. “Dull now.” Her eyes go unfocused, staring vaguely at her hands as if she doesn’t recognize them. “Too dull.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, and he means it.

It never gets easier to witness her like this, frenetic and fraying in the throes of the Hunt’s compulsion. These spells have a way of making her features look sharper, her mannerisms more animalistic. She’s all protruding bones and sallow skin, but that seeming frailty does nothing to tame the violence thrumming in her veins. If anything, that all-consuming hunger only makes her more fearsome.

Jon’s strict rations have given him an underfed, pinched look as well, but at least he has something. Not enough to put meat on his bones, so to speak, but enough to stave off starvation. Daisy, though…

When Jon takes a step forward, she rounds on him with teeth bared and a snarl in her throat. Jon flinches at the sudden movement.

“You’re afraid of me.” Daisy exhales an exhausted rattle of a laugh, as if vindicated. “Good. You should be.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jon says. “I have an overactive startle reflex. Always have, really.”

“You’re lying.” Daisy breathes heavily through her nose, fists clenched at her sides now. “Admit it.”

Jon knows what she’s trying to do. She wants him to lash out, to bite back, to make her bleed. He’s uncomfortably familiar with that craving. It’s like looking into a mirror.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he reiterates.

“Liar,” Daisy hisses, fixing him with a baleful glare.

He’s seen her like this many times before, hunger-ravaged and swamped by bloodlust. She’ll doggedly bash herself against the nearest witness to her shame like a ship crashed against a jetty, driven forward again and again by cresting waves of guilt and self-loathing until she’s free-floating wreckage. Every time, it gets more and more difficult to gather up all the debris and repair the damage. Jon fears that one of these days, the storm will pass and there won’t be enough pieces left to put her back together.

“I’m not a knife you can cut yourself on, Daisy,” he says patiently.

Daisy looks positively mutinous, mouth opening and closing several times before erupting: “Why wouldn’t you be afraid of me?”

“I used to be,” Jon admits, leaning back against the tunnel wall to take some of the weight off his bad leg. “Before the Buried. I was terrified of you. Dreaded every moment I had to be alone with you. Thought it was only a matter of time before you finished the job.”

“It was,” she rasps out – and with that, her shoulders slump and her fists relax to hang limply at her sides, fingers jumping and twitching with the last dregs of her agitation.

“I know. But then you changed. You were different, after the Buried. As afraid of yourself as I used to be of you. As afraid of yourself as I was of myself.” He looks her in the eye as he speaks. “I looked at you and saw my own fear reflected back at me. There are so many things to be afraid of. You were – you are trying very hard not to be one of them.”

“If I’m afraid of me, you should be, too.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Jon asks, shaping each word carefully to keep the compulsion at bay.

She pauses, considering the question.

“No,” she says eventually. “Afraid for you, sometimes.”

“As I am for you.” Jon’s tentative smile fades after a moment. “I’ll admit, I do have… reflexive reactions, sometimes. There were a few incidents where I walked into the breakroom and you were holding a knife, and my fight-or-flight response kicked in before my conscious brain could catch up with reality.”

Daisy squeezes her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. When she opens her eyes, the look on her face isn’t pleading so much as it is resigned. She isn’t asking for forgiveness. Jon doubts she ever will.

It’s just one more thing they have in common.

“I know,” he says quietly. “To be clear, I don’t feel unsafe with you, as you are now. It’s just… flashbacks. They can be – unpredictable. And if I’m already feeling on edge, or – or not quite present, it doesn’t take much to set me off. But,” he adds, giving her a serious look, “I don’t want you walking on eggshells around me. That only puts me more on edge.”

“Fine. But will you tell me if I do something to scare you?”

“Yes.” She made the same request last time. “But I’ve never had to. You could always feel when I was afraid. From a few rooms away, even.”

“Yeah,” Daisy says with a choked laugh. “Your blood is – very loud sometimes.”

“And now?”

These episodes tend to be capricious. Sometimes, what seems to be the calm after the storm proves to be only a lull before a second wind. If the way she’s wobbling on her feet and favoring one leg is any indication, Jon suspects that the worst of the flare-up has passed for now, taking her adrenaline surge with it. Still, he waits for her confirmation. Daisy takes a minute to mull over the question, head cocked slightly to the side as if listening.

“Quieter,” she says.

With that, Jon lowers himself to the ground and sits with his back against the wall, beckoning her over to take a seat. She hesitates for a moment longer before following his lead, slumping down next to him with a labored sigh.

“Sorry for growling at you,” she says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Daisy tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling. “You said I ended up going back to the Hunt last time.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“September. But – but that doesn’t mean it has to happen again,” he adds hurriedly when he sees her face fall in a mixture of anguish and resignation. “It was – sort of a perfect storm of extenuating circumstances. Like I said before, if you didn’t let the Hunt back in, you and Basira would likely have been killed. But I think you knew you wouldn’t be coming back from it. Before you changed, you made Basira promise to hunt you down and kill you.”

“And did she?”

“She lost track of you in the chaos. You gave chase after one of the Hunters. Once you killed her, the other Hunter started hunting you. For revenge.” Jon’s voice drops to a low murmur. “A few weeks later, the world ended.”

Which makes it sound far more passive than it actually was, but Jon isn’t in the mood for a scolding should he opt for an ‘I’ statement.

“And then what?”

“You were a full-fledged Hunter in a – a perpetual fear generator of a world,” Jon says grimly. “Do you really need to hear the details?”

“Tell me,” Daisy says. “Please.”

Jon understands the need, but recounting the apocalypse never gets any easier. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

“When I opened the door and let all the Fears into this reality,” he begins, “the world was divvied up into thousands of different domains, each belonging to a different shade of terror. With few exceptions, most people were confined to one domain – usually whatever aligned with their deepest fears. Avatars and monsters were subject to the Ceaseless Watcher, but otherwise able to exercise control over the humans in the domains of their patrons. Most seemed to stake out territory and settle in one place – customizing their own little spheres of influence, creating playgrounds of their own making. But some got around. You were one of the ones that traveled.”

“What was –” Daisy grimaces. “Who was I hunting?”

“Well… in that place, no one got what they deserved, only what would hurt the most. And people are rarely afraid of just one thing. Most were magnets for multiple fears. The more nomadic Avatars and monsters would gravitate towards whatever individuals were most susceptible to their power, so to speak.” He bites his lip. There’s really no tactful way to phrase this next part. “In your case, you had a roster of specific targets that you were tracking. Former prey. Whether you were drawn to them because of their own fear of you, or because some part of you judged them to have ‘gotten away,’ so to speak… I’m not entirely certain. It may have been a bit of both.”

“I see,” Daisy murmurs. “Guess it makes sense that I would rank high among some people’s greatest fears.”

“Basira was tracking you when we ran into her. We were with her when we found you.”

“And was I… still me?”

“Yes and no,” Jon says hesitantly. “You were you, in a way, but only a small part of you. The Hunter. Everything else was buried too deep. Drowned. Even if I could have brought you back, it would have killed you. You – you didn’t even recognize me, or Martin. You recognized Basira – saw her as pack, wanted her to join you in the Hunt – but…”

“You were prey,” Daisy says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“You never did manage to grow a self-preservation instinct, did you?” Daisy squints at him. “I went full monster on you, and you still want me to sit next to you now.”

“You had sharper teeth then,” Jon says drily. Daisy scoffs and nudges his shoulder with hers. She doesn’t draw back after making contact, and when Jon doesn’t pull away either, she leans into him.

“Basira kept her promise?” Daisy asks after a minute.

“Yes. She didn’t want to, but…” Jon swallows thickly, the memory of Basira’s heartbreak bringing to mind his own. “It wasn’t an easy decision.”

Daisy rubs at her chest with one hand, as if to soothe an ache. “It wasn’t fair for me to ask that of her, was it?”

“Maybe not,” Jon sighs. “It seems fair choices are hard to come by, for most of us.”

“I… I don’t want her to have to make that choice this time.”

“Neither do I.”

“It’s never going to stop, is it?” Daisy glances at him, allowing her head to rest lightly on his shoulder. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“I’m sorry.” What else is there to say?

“Melanie got away,” Daisy says, a tinge of bargaining in her tone. “She managed to purge the Slaughter. And break away from the Eye.”

“Her situation was… different from ours. She wasn’t as far gone as we are. The Slaughter hadn’t fully claimed her, and the Eye never took her as an Avatar. But you’ve been living with the Hunt for most of your life; I signed myself over to the Beholding the moment I became the Archivist. We’ve become… attached to our patrons, dependent on them for survival. Symbiotic, in a twisted sort of way.”

“You really don’t think there’s a way back, then.”

“I don’t know for sure. I’ve seen it before, in my future, but – the world was different then. During the apocalypse, I was able to, uh… shift a person’s status from Watched to Watcher. I – I mean, technically everyone was Watched – the Eye had dominion over everything – but I could give someone control over one of the smaller domains. Create new Avatars, for lack of a better term.

“But turn a Watcher into solely the Watched, and they would typically unravel. I don’t know if that’s because the full focus of the Ceaseless Watcher’s gaze just happens to be lethal – particularly for Avatars aligned with other Powers – or if an Avatar is simply unable to survive being cut off from their patron regardless of the means of separation. I do Know that I wouldn’t have been able to survive being cut off from the Eye unscathed. I was… too much a part of the Eye in that reality. Not sure about now. For either of us.”

“That’s a roundabout way of saying ‘no.’”

“I’m not saying no, I’m saying that I don’t know. Supposedly escaping the Buried was impossible, and here we are.”

“Apples and oranges,” Daisy says sullenly.

“Maybe. I think it’s all too complex for clear-cut categories. Even the hard-and-fast ‘rules’ are only as strong as our collective belief in them. Almost like our expectations shore them up. I’ve witnessed all of reality being rewritten – all physical laws and supposed universal constants reshaped to center the Eye.” He reaches one hand up to tug on the hair at the back of his neck. “After all I’ve Seen, it’s difficult to conceive of anything being categorically impossible. Between all the dream logic and reality bending, there’s plenty of space for firsts and exceptions to the rules.”

‘I don’t knows’ are where the hope lives, Martin said once. At the time, Jon teased him for being a hopeless romantic, but truthfully, Jon was just as hopelessly endeared by Martin’s belief in such things.

“Have you talked to Georgie yet today?” Daisy asks, apparently ready to change the subject.

“Oh, uh – yes. This morning.”

“And?”

“Melanie was out of surgery and stable, but she wasn’t awake yet. Georgie promised to call tonight with an update.” Assuming nothing major comes up before then, a worried voice in Jon’s head supplies. He shakes his head to jog the thought loose. “Speaking of Georgie… have you given any thought to her suggestion?”

“What,” Daisy says, drolly skeptical, “playing a video game?”

“I realize it’s… somewhat out of the box, but it might be worth a try. Like Georgie said, there are multiplayer games where you can, uh… hunt down other players.”

Daisy plucks absently at her collar, glowering at the opposite wall as if the bricks there committed a personal offense. “It’s not the same.”

“A simulation might not come close to a real hunt, no, but – you might still get something out of it? Maybe?” Daisy directs her scowl up at the ceiling. Jon only digs his heels in, undeterred. “There are even some that have a survival horror theme. An aesthetic that already puts players in the mindset to be frightened, you know?”

“People play those games for fun, Sims.” She finally looks at him, eyes narrowed. “It’s about thrills, not mortal fear.”

“Sometimes genuine fear can sneak through. Haven’t you ever been so creeped out by a horror story that it stayed with you after nightfall?”

“Not really?”

“O-oh. Well, some people have that experience.” Jon gives an awkward little cough. “Anyway, under the right circumstances, a game can get the adrenaline pumping as well as a chase can. A fight-or-flight response doesn’t necessarily require a real physical threat.”

Daisy raises her eyebrows, transparently cynical. “Do you really think the Hunt is going to be satisfied with jump scares and – and low-stakes adrenaline rushes filtered through a screen?”

“No,” Jon admits. “But it might take the edge off. Sort of like reading old statements does for me. Not enough to stop you starving, but maybe enough to distract from the hunger pangs. At least temporarily. If nothing else, you did say you need a new hobby, and it’s not like this place is overflowing with viable entertainment options.”

“I guess,” Daisy sighs. “I mean, it’s not like I’m paying rent. May as well squander my paycheck.”

“If that’s the case, you should see if that eBay listing for that vintage The Archers board game is still up,” Jon says drily. “Last I checked, it was £2 with no bidders.”

“Yeah, and £30 shipping.”

“Sounds like £32 well spent, if you ask me.”

Daisy snorts and bumps her shoulder against his. “You, Jonathan Sims, are an absolute menace.”

Adrift and thoroughly divorced from the concept of time, end of the workday passes Martin by without his notice. Once again, he wonders whether Peter deliberately assigned him an office with no external window, not only to put another wall between him and the rest of the world, but to make it easier for him to lose track of time.

For an interminable stretch of time he sits catatonic, mind peppered with sporadic sensory input: Dead-weight limbs, listless and foreign-feeling. The brush of fabric resting against bare skin, every point of weightless contact a violation. The distant ticking of clockwork, rote and irrevocable.

Stand up, comes the thought, detached and intrusive: an instruction he cannot parse; empty phonemes wafted into a vacant mind, abandoned there to echo and disperse until they lose all meaning. A fragment of a signal from brain to nerves to fingers presses numb fingertips to thumbs, a cautious test yielding no sensation but for the vague, spongey give of flesh.

Then the body ostensibly belonging to him is on its feet, the connection between floor and soles disturbingly incongruent with unreality. Walking now, every footfall jarring in its impact; every step stretched and blurred like a botched time-lapse photograph; every molasses-sluggish forward motion met with invisible resistance, like swimming against a sludgy current.

He does not remember how or when or under whose direction he arrives in the Archives, swaying at the threshold of the Head Archivist’s office. Empty and still. Silence so pervasive it’s almost tangible. Viscous and inexorable. Trapping him like a fly in honey. Drowning.

When next he becomes aware of his surroundings, he’s wavering at the bottom of a ladder. Walls curving up and over his head, a brickwork warren stretching on and out into the murk.

Standing in place. Hovering like an afterimage. Rootless and incorporeal. Searching for… staring at… calling to…

There: something real.

“Martin?” Jon’s breath fogs the air as he speaks, but the way he says the name… his voice seems to cradle the word, shielding it against the cold. He sits up straighter, keen gaze sweeping the area like a lighthouse beacon. “Martin, is that you?”

That’s me, Martin thinks, and then, wonderingly: He says your name like it’s something precious.

At that thought, Jon’s eyes land on him like a searchlight.

“There you are.” His soft smile immediately falters, brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

He’s sat on the floor with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up to his chest, and Daisy pressed up against his side in a mirrored position, sharing a pair of corded earphones. Daisy is already thumbing at the screen of her phone, presumably pausing whatever it is they’re listening to, as Jon removes his earbud.

Martin opens his mouth to speak, but the air in his lungs has turned to viscid fog and the confused tangle of half-formed thoughts in his mind refuse to coalesce into actual words. Jon exchanges a glance with Daisy, who is already moving to stand. Martin wants to object – she doesn’t have to leave on his account; he can see that they’re busy; he’s fine; he’s just overreacting – but before he can cobble together a protest, she’s halfway to her feet, gripping the wall for support.

“I’m alright now,” Martin can hear her say.

“You’re sure?” Jon asks in a low murmur.

“Yeah.” She winces as she straightens her spine. “Knowing Basira, she’s still pouring over the same statements as she was this morning. She could do with an interruption.”

“Can you manage the ladder?”

Daisy stretches her leg out, testing her mobility. “Think so.”

They give each other another long look, a shared nod, and without another word, Daisy staggers her way to the exit and mounts the ladder.

As it does every time he witnesses these displays of unspoken understanding between them, an ugly pang of jealousy burns in Martin’s chest – some combination of envy, inadequacy, longing, and loneliness. Possessiveness, almost – and an instant later, the shame sets in.

But then the trapdoor closes, Jon looks Martin in the eye again, and the sincere, tender warmth sheltering there is enough to leave Martin reeling. It’s hard to comprehend anyone – let alone Jonathan Sims – looking at him like that; difficult to reconcile requited affection with a lifetime of fruitless want. Martin can’t shake the feeling that it will always be this way – and that his inability to trust in unconditional love is precisely what makes him so unlovable in the first place.

Jon clears his throat and pats the floor beside him. He’s seated on a blanket, Martin just now notices, folded over several times to cushion the hard ground.

He’d better not be napping down here, Martin thinks to himself.

“Martin,” Jon says, in that impossibly soft tone he’s taken to using around Martin these days, “I’d like you to come sit, if you’re amenable.”

It’s such a Jon way of phrasing the invitation, and the familiarity it engenders has Martin accepting without a conscious thought. He settles himself beside Jon, close but not touching. Those few inches of distance manage to be simultaneously loathsome and assuring. Martin lets his hand rest in that vacant space, fingers clenching around a fistful of blanket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jon’s hand twitch, as if fighting back the urge to reach out and touch. Instead, he starts to rub the fabric of his trouser leg between his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you need right now?” Jon asks.

“I…” Martin pauses, unsettled by the sound of his own voice, grating and almost unfamiliar to his ears.

“Take your time.”

It takes a minute for Martin to wrap his mouth around more than one syllable.

“Nothing,” he says, the weight of the word nearly pinning his tongue in place.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Several more minutes pass before Martin is able to construct a full sentence.

“I’m just being stupid.” The words seem to echo faintly in the tunnel, despite how quietly he says them.

“What do you need?” Jon asks again.

“Nothing,” Martin repeats dully. He doesn’t need anything.

Jon doesn’t immediately respond. Martin can feel himself go rigid, anticipating… what – aggravation, impatience, disengagement? But Jon only runs a thumb along his jawline, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Okay,” he says eventually, “what do you want, then? What would – what would help you feel better right now?”

“I… I don’t know,” Martin says in a voice so feeble it’s nearly inaudible. He flexes his fingers uncertainly, chasing after any physical sensation at all, only to find them numb and deathlike. The helpless sigh that shudders out of him wants to be a whimper. “I just – didn’t – don’t – feel real. Feels like I’m not really here.”

“Hmm.” Jon looks at him – really looks at him, taking his time to study Martin’s face. “Well, I can confirm that you are here.”

“You… you can see me?” Martin asks meekly, pleadingly, dreading the answer.

“Yes.” Jon pauses. “And if you’re agonizing over being a bother, don’t, because you aren’t. I always like seeing you.”

He should trust Jon – he does trust Jon – but it’s still a constant struggle to drown out that Lonely part of him that insists that isolation is safer, more dependable, and far more habitable. Unthinkingly, Martin reaches over, hand trembling in the air above Jon’s, fingertips just barely ghosting across scarred skin.

“Would you like me to hold your hand…?” Jon ventures.

Martin’s fingers curve inward as he pulls back slightly. “I, um.”

“You can say no,” Jon reminds him.

“I… I want it, but I – I – I don’t know if I can handle it right now, and I –” Martin draws back entirely, flapping both hands in frustration, trying to relieve the pins-and-needles sensation prickling through his veins. “I hate this. I hate being like this.”

Martin grimaces at the outburst, but Jon doesn’t seem to be judging him. Instead, he’s looking off to the side, a crease between his eyebrows now, as if he’s working through a problem.

“No skin-to-skin contact,” he says to himself, and then he looks to Martin. “Pressure helps me sometimes, when I feel like I’m not real. You could… lean against me? If you want.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to,” Jon rushes to reassure him.

“It’s – not that I don’t want to. I guess I’m just…” Martin can feel himself flush with embarrassment. “It’s daft, but I’m worried that I’ll be – I don’t know, incorporeal, or something.”

“I distinctly recall you telling me that you’re not a ghost.”

It takes a few seconds for Jon’s deadpan humor to sink in. When it does, Martin nearly chokes on a surprised laugh.

“I still can’t believe you thought I was a ghost,” he says, cracking a smile. The tight, bitter-cold knot in his chest yields just a little, like ice disintegrating under a spring thaw.

“In my defense, I was quite distraught at the time.” Jon’s eyes wrinkle at the corners and Martin is struck by overwhelming fondness. He doesn’t pull away when Jon reaches out, open palm hovering just above his shoulder. “May I?”

Cautiously, Martin nods.

“Hmm.” Jon applies the lightest touch at first, watching Martin’s face carefully. He waits until Martin nods for him to continue before he presses down more firmly. Before long, Martin can feel the warmth of Jon’s hand through his jumper. That warmth carries over into Jon’s smile. “Feels solid to me.”

The confirmation comes as a relief, as foolish as that makes Martin feel. He braces himself and leans against Jon’s side, releasing his held breath when his body meets with tangible resistance. At first he worries that Jon, scrawny as he is, won’t be able to support the weight, but he doesn’t budge when Martin melts against him. After that, it’s a struggle for Martin to keep his eyes open.

Jon must notice, because he whispers, “You can rest. I’ll be here.”

Martin doesn’t even have the strength to nod, let alone the energy to argue. He allows the steady rise and fall of Jon’s chest to lull him into an almost meditative state, his mind still floating somewhere outside of himself, but now tethered to the ground.

Then the silence starts nipping at his heels.

“Too quiet,” he mumbles. “Talk to me?”

“What about?”

“Anything.”

“Did you know that highland cattle have a double coat?” Jon says after a minute of consideration. “It insulates them against the cold. The outer layer is long – the longest hair of any cattle breed, in fact – and oily, which helps ward off the rain. Underneath is softer, almost woolly hair.”

Once Jon gets started, those little scraps of trivia soon progress to a nearly encyclopedic lecture. It doesn’t take long for Martin to lose himself in the rich timbre of Jon’s voice as he goes on about various Scottish breeds of cattle. Although he doesn’t fall fully asleep, Martin manages to drift in and out of consciousness enough that he loses track of time once more. This time, though, it’s a comfortable daze: there’s someone to keep him from straying too far.

At some point, he unthinkingly seeks out Jon’s hand. Jon presses his thumb into the center of Martin’s palm, rubbing small circles there, coaxing Martin further into peaceful relaxation.

“Sorry for interrupting you and Daisy earlier,” Martin murmurs groggily into Jon’s shoulder.

“Oh, we were just listening to The Archers.”

“Are you taking the piss?” Martin asks, opening one eye to scrutinize Jon’s expression.

“Unfortunately not.”

“You like The Archers.”

“Good lord, no. Blame Daisy.”

“Daisy likes The Archers,” Martin says, even more dubiously, sitting up now to squint at Jon.

“There are stranger things.”

Martin snorts and nestles into Jon’s side again. “If you say so.”

“Feeling better now?” Martin reflexively snuggles closer. Jon laughs softly, a little puff of a breath that rustles Martin’s hair. “I’m not going to deny you cuddles if the answer is ‘yes,’ you know.”

“Cuddles,” Martin whispers, the word dissolving into a clipped giggle.

“What?” Jon tilts his head. There’s a puzzled scowl on his face, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not he should take offense. It’s impossibly endearing.

“Cuddles,” Martin repeats, in a poor approximation of Jon’s voice this time. “Not a word I ever expected to hear from you.”

“Quiet, you,” Jon huffs, but he can’t disguise the way his indignant pout cracks into a smile under the weight of his own amusement. He almost seems to preen, as if pulling a laugh from Martin is a victory on which to pride himself. He reaches up with his free hand, pausing just above the top of Martin’s head. “May I?”

At Martin’s affirmative, Jon begins to comb his fingers through Martin’s hair, fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp. For the briefest of moments, some primal fragment of him recoils from the contact, instinctively unnerved by the vulnerability inherent to such closeness. Martin spurns that voice, breathes through its fit of angst and panic, and leans into the touch.

Little by little, step by step, he’s acclimating. He just wishes that it wasn’t such a process each and every time he lets his guard down like this.

“Bad day?” Jon asks once Martin settles.

“Something like that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Martin groans. “But I should.”

“Only if you want to.”

“No, you should know, I just…” Martin heaves a wearied sigh. “Peter’s back.”

Jon gasps like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. The hand stroking Martin’s hair abruptly stills; the other, still clasped in Martin’s, constricts like a death-grip.

“Did he hurt you?” The question is steeped in an artificial, fragile sort of calm, but Jon can’t quite mask the intensity buzzing just under the surface: fear, protectiveness, and desperation all intermingled and reinforced by that ominous inkling of power that, despite his intentions, lurks behind every word.

“He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Just… trying to get me to recommit to the Lonely.” Martin scoffs. “And of course he was trying to do it in a way that would make me feel like it was my idea. Get me to convince myself that it was what I wanted, rather than something he was pressuring me into.”

“Of all the Powers, the Lonely is one of the most insidious, I think,” Jon says quietly. “It seeks out victims who already have one foot in the Lonely, reinforces those fears, promises kinship – a paradoxical form of it, anyway – and then it just… waits. Spend enough time disconnected from the rest of the world, and it doesn’t take long to start telling yourself the lie that it’s for the best. That it’s what you are; that it’s all you’re meant to be.”

“And I fell for it,” Martin mutters.

“Anyone would, subjected to the right conditions.” Jon waits until he catches Martin’s eye before he continues. “It isn’t your fault. This is what the Fears do. It’s what they are. They find an opening, they sink their hooks in, and they pull you under. They don’t let go until either you drown or you learn to breathe fear. The only way out is for someone to throw you a lifeline, and even then, the odds aren’t great. And the Lonely in particular – one of the first things it does is make it difficult to even conceive of a lifeline. It’s hard to catch hold of one if you never think to look for it.”

“I thought you hated convoluted metaphors.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately the Powers That Be tend to elude any sort of straightforward, concrete discussion,” Jon grouses. “Just one more reason to begrudge them, really. My point is, the Lonely is an insufferable liar and so is Peter.”

“What do you know, they’re perfect for each other.” The remark succeeds in putting a lopsided smirk on Jon’s face, much to Martin’s delight. “Anyway, Peter said his plan won’t work unless I’m voluntarily Lonely.”

“He’s right, although his plan has nothing to do with the Extinction. He needs you to choose the Lonely because those were the terms of his bet with Jonah. He poaches you out from under the Eye – gets you to pledge yourself to the Forsaken – and he wins, with the Institute as a prize. He fails to convert you, he loses, and he does what Jonah wants, which is for me to be marked by the Lonely.”

Jon says that last part so nonchalantly. As if it’s a foregone conclusion; as if he’s become so accustomed to dehumanization that it doesn’t even give him pause. Martin grits his teeth, biting back a surge of anger on Jon’s behalf.

“Yeah, well,” he says tightly, “Peter bet on the wrong horse.”

A sharp intake of breath leaves Jon sounding strangled when he says, eyes wide and lips parted, “Oh?”

“I mean, he can’t just sic the Lonely on me like he would any other victim, right? That wouldn’t count as a win. He needs me to choose it. And I’m not going to do that.”

“Yeah?” The expression of unguarded, cautious hope dawning on Jon’s face makes him look years younger.

“Yeah,” Martin says, feeling increasingly emboldened. “The funny thing is, I don’t – I don’t think I ever chose loneliness. I never wanted it – that was just a lie I told myself, and the Lonely just – echoed it back to me. S-so Peter’s out of luck, because if there are other options, then the Lonely will always be involuntary. Because it’s not what I want.”

“You – you mean it?” Jon brightens, leaning forward.

Martin’s heart skips a beat and flutters hummingbird-quick against his ribs. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jon smile – not like this, that is, beaming and uninhibited and altogether breathtaking. Immediately, Martin decides that he wants more. It seems wrong for something so exhilarating to be so rare.

He doesn’t know which of them moves first, and it doesn’t matter, because Jon is in his lap, and Jon is nuzzling into his shoulder, and Jon is here and solid and so, so alive in Martin’s arms, breathing warm and steady into his neck, smiling against his skin, hands scrabbling at his back to cling to his jumper. Martin’s fingers seek purchase of their own, and then something clicks.

“Jon,” he says, leaning back just far enough to confirm his suspicion, “is this mine?”

“Are you just now noticing?” Jon asks, devastatingly fond. “Martin, I’ve been wearing this jumper off and on for the last several weeks.”

“You have?” Martin all but squeaks, heat creeping up his neck and to the tips of his ears. “No. No, you –” Jon’s grin is widening, leaving Martin increasingly flustered. “I – I mean, yes, you have, obviously, I know that, but I – I – I –” Martin gulps, mortified, as Jon finally fails to contain his suppressed laughter. “Look, I didn’t recognize it until just now, alright?”

“Well,” Jon says, ducking his head to chuckle softly against Martin’s throat, “it’s mine now, and you can’t have it back.”

Which is fine with Martin, really, because he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t helplessly charmed by the newfound knowledge that not only is Jon an unrepentant clothes-thief, but apparently also an insatiable cuddler.

End Notes:

To address Martin’s concern: Jon does, in fact, nap in the tunnels sometimes. Listen, with Jurgen Leitner (derogatory) in absentia, there was an opening for the position of Beleaguered Tunnel-Haunting Hermit and Jon has all the necessary qualifications.

So anyways, who else thinks Peter’s bio on a dating app would probably just be that “every living creature on this earth dies alone” quote from Donnie Darko? I bet he thinks 'survival of the fittest' means 'every man for himself'. What an insufferable clown.

No Archive-speak in this chapter to cite.

I wanted to make a joke about a The Archers-themed Monopoly, so I asked duckduckgo if it was a thing. Sadly, it is not. There IS, however, a 1960s The Archers board game, and yes, there ARE eBay listings for it.

The first section of this chapter was written before eps 190-192 dropped. I think it still lines up well enough with what we saw of Melanie & Georgie’s characterization in these most recent episodes, with the qualifier that things have gone very differently in this AU compared with canon. (Also, I took some liberties wrt Georgie’s not-feeling-fear thing, obvi. Some of it matches with the most recent episodes, some of it not so much, but I decided to keep it anyways.)

Oh and I think I might have given myself cavities with the last section of this chapter. (I’m aro-spec; it’s hard to tell when I’m going over the top, but hopefully it’s fluffy without being overly cloying.)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma spoilers #long post

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himbowelsh · 4 years ago

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Hi! I wanted to ask if you could do the Valentine's A-Z thing for Smokey. If you're uninspired, it's totally fine if you don't, though!! :) in case you do, thank you very much!^^

valentines day alphabet ( accepting! )

A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?

He’s a very demonstrative person who’s not shy about his physicality, and most at ease around people who are able to take it; sometimes Smokey can even be thoughtless with touch, because he doles it out so casually. he loves to be touched in return, relishing the reassurance it provides --- Smokey’s just not someone who enjoys being alone for too long, so brushing shoulders and wrapping arms around people chases those feelings of loneliness away.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He’s actually very good at picking out just the right bouquet for the occasion! His twin sister has a passion for flowers, so Smokey had to learn, okay?Flowers really aren’t that confusing, once you know how to take care of them. He’s no gardener, but could definitely keep plants alive if he tried.

C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s a casual fan. While he won’t buy it for himself, if someone gives it as a gift --- or a bribe --- he’ll gladly accept.

D : DATE. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He wants to take something completely casual and turn it into something semi-illegal. Let’s go to the movies and try to break into the projector booth, just to see if it’s possible. Best seats in the house! Let’s see if we can “accidentally” get locked in a department store overnight, and run around bouncing on beds and doing weird things in the dressing rooms. Smokey can make most casual things a lot of fun, but he thrives in situations on just the right side of absurd. He’d love a partner who can liven up even the most mundane date! (And hopefully rein him in from doing anything too wild.)

E : EMBRACE. does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Again ---- very driven by physical contact, very liberal giving it out. Smokey hugs like it’s going out of style. He rubs people’s backs, claps their shoulders a bit, sometimes blows in their ear to make them jump... he’s got a different hug for every occasion.

F : FLIRT. is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

A very playful flirt, with a collection of pickup lines ranging from inspired to creatively-terrifying.

G : GIFT. is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He thinks he’s great at gift-giving. Plenty of people who’ve received gifts from him would beg to disagree. And beg to be able to return the thing. (“Why the hell do I need a Dick Tracy lunchbox, Smokey, I’m a grown-ass man ---”) Always gives his gifts with the utmost confidence, even if it’s not something any sane person would want.

H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He definitely needs the right incentive, with the right partner... but that doesn’t take much. Truth is, Smokey falls in love fast. Once he’s in, he’s in, and it’s not easy to shatter his affections.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Gah, he loves saying it. If he’s in the right mood, he’ll say it twenty times in a day, just because he loves hearing it. When it comes to love, he’s very verbally demonstrative, as well as physically. Saying the Three Big Words isn’t a big deal to Smokey, because by the time he says them, he knows he means it ---- not like there’s any point holding them back. He’ll be the first to say it in a relationship (and might hold his breath until his partner says it back, but he’s willing to wait all year).

J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Nah, not really. He’s a confident guy, and that confidence extends to his partner --- he’s fully confident they’d never do anything to hurt him. And... honestly, Smokey’s got a wide circle of friends who he’s very affectionate with, so seeing the same behavior from his partner wouldn’t raise any red flags for him at all.

K : KISS. is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Smokey is the world’s biggest tease --- a very playful kisser, who enjoys stringing his partner along after him. He loves pulling someone close, his arm wrapping around their back completely, a hand cupping their head; he’ll angle them slightly backwards, leaning into the kiss as his mouth finds a rhythm against their own. Slight grazes of teeth and tongue, just enough to leave them tense in his grasp, eager for more... and then he’ll pull away with a broad grin on his face, inviting them to come get it. Very into love nips, but will pull unexpectedly tender kisses seemingly out of nowhere.

L : LOVE. who does your muse love?

He’s got a lot of love to give, and when it comes to the people he cares about, Smokey loves fiercely. Probably the most important person in his life is his twin sister, Cleta, who he adores; then his parents; then all his friends, who he’d hide a body for without question; and his family should he ever start one, would immediately move to the top of the list.

M : MOONLIGHT. is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He tends to get in a weirdly touchy/romantic mood anywhere around 1 - 3am, aka the hours when any sane person just wants to sleep. He’s tired too, and he knows his partner is, but when the mood strikes...

N : NAUGHTY. what is your muse like in bed?

Smokey is a very attentive lover. He does not work on instinct; it’s all observation, keeping track of what his partner responds to best. Do they shiver when he nips them here? Groan when his tongue does that right there? Very interesting. He files it all away for later, stocking up an arsenal of how best to drive his partner wild. And what a tease --- he’ll bring his partner to the brink, only to pull them right back, so many times that they can actually get angry at him. Fisting a hand in his curls and pulling is a guaranteed way to get him compliant; he’s very sensitive at his hips, and will turn to putty if his partner directs their attentions there.

O : ODE. does your muse have a way with words?

You know he does, baby, you know he does. One of his favorite hobbies is writing long-winded poems just to troll people, but Smokey has also tried his hand at writing short stories before. Love poetry is very different --- much more intimate --- but Smokey’s sharp enough to do anything if he puts his mind to it, so he’d give it a shot.

P : PARTNER. what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Smokey wants someone with a bright personality ---- someone who lights up every room, with a quick wit and sharp mind. They don’t need to be a social butterfly, just to entertain him; he likes to be kept on his toes. Someone with a great sense of humor, and a great laugh. Someone who loves to read, because so does he, and they can talk about books for hours; someone who makes good coffee in the mornings, and that’s crucial. Smokey really just needs someone who can bounce off of him, take a joke, and make him smile even when it seems the hardest thing in the world.

Q : QUESTION. would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

If you don’t think this man will plan an elaborate proposal --- he’d do the most elaborate thing. He’s probably brainstormed wild proposals long before he even met his partner, just because he figured he’d have to do it someday, and wanted to be ready. Smokey would find some insane way to propose, like on the top of a roller coaster or via skywriting airplane,just to see if he could pull it off. And if it doesn’t, he has no qualms with finding another way, and proposing all over again.

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a super romantic heart, and is 100% willing to laugh at his own optimism. That doesn’t make it any less genuine, or make him any less eager to find love.

S : SWEETHEART. did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

His sister went through a phase when she wanted to get married, and poor Smokey was the nearest boy she could rope into playing the Wedding game with her. She got her best dress out, a little bouquet of flowers, forced Smokey to make a ring out of an old bottle cap for her... then, somehow, a bunch of other neighborhood girls got involved. Smokey ended up with six wives, including his sister. None of them wanted anything to do with him by next week. He’s 90% sure none of those marriages are valid today.

T : TRUE LOVE. does your muse believe in true love?

Sure he does! When he meets the right person, Smokey’s determined --- that’s going to be it. He’ll be sold. He’ll know them, he’ll love them, and the rest of his life will just be getting to show them. He’s definitely idealized romance in his head, but that’s just because he really wants to fall deeply in love with someone.

U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?

Smokey’s not the type to be completely shattered by a failed romance, even if it were one that meant a lot to him. Something like... losing someone he loves without warning, or having them die too soon... that’s the sort of thing capable of breaking his heart.

V : VALENTINE. how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

It’s a fun night, and he’ll spoil his partner any way they want, but he loves using it as an opportunity to come up with dates no one else would think of. Who else would spend Valentine’s Day renting horses to ride, or going to a haunted house?

W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes! Please marry him! He wants it bad! He’ll ask a dozen times --- once he loves someone, he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with them. Marriage sounds like a dream.

X : XOXO. does your muse use / like pet names?

Oh, absolutely! He’ll make lists, just brainstorming as many as he can think of, and leave them lying around the house for his partner to find; he’ll bounce a few off of them, just to see how they’ll work. (“honeycakes, what are you --- no, that doesn’t work, does it?” // “hey, sugarpuss--” “NOPE.”) Nicknames are a sport for Smokey, and he plays to win.

Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?

Smokey has a very short list of people he’d go ride-or-die for. It includes his sister, his mom, a few close friends, and his partner. Once they’re on that list, no one gets to hurt them, ever.

Z : ZZZ. how many people has your muse slept with?

Honestly, it’s all about finding takers. Smokey’s not shy, but wasn’t exactly rolling in girlfriends back home. Overseas, it’s easier. If asked, he’d probably quote a number much higher than the actual amount.

#3milesup #this man is 90% chaotic energy and cheese i love him #smokey gordon #band of brothers #headcanons

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ivcsisms · 4 years ago

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wait i forgot i even wanted to post this, i have no reason to other than it took forever nd it’s very sad... enjoy i guess !! ivy wrote this letter to lux and didn’t mean to send it but it accidentally got sent anyway, oops !!

lux / delilah / whoever the fuck you are,

i’ll probably never send you this, but these thoughts have been circling around in my head like a cruel melody that’s been drowning out everything else, and i need them to live somewhere outside my brain. i keep thinking about the way you said i treated you like shit, and i just don’t get it. i broke up with my boyfriend for you and two days later you were engaged to jordan. it still sounds funny to even say that in my head, like when i’m in a nightmare and i start to realize that things aren’t right, things aren’t real. except now every time i wake up, it’s worse. i’ve never felt like this before, and i fucking hate it. i hate you for making me feel this way. i hate you for doing this to me.

i hate you for doing this to US. we were so good lux delilah. or so i thought. it turns out i was wrong about a lot of things, huh? i was wrong to trust you. i was wrong to think i knew you. i was wrong to let you in. i was wrong to believe a word you said. i was wrong to think you could read between the lines, that you KNEW what i meant and how i felt. i was wrong to love you. and god, i fucking loved you. and i was fucking TERRIFIED of it. funny enough, THIS is exactly what i feared would happen. i knew the time would come that you would realize you were too good for me, but i never knew it’d be this bad. i never thought you would just… toss me away like that, so suddenly. what did i do? what did i say? was any of it real? ever? was i just fucking crazy the whole time, projecting my own feelings on to you? i thought you cared. i though you loved me too, for fucks sake. but there’s no way you ever did, because apparently i treated you like shit and was never good enough. i guess i shouldn’t be surprised. i’m not the type of girl you love. i’m not the type of girl you marry. i’m not meant for forever, just for the night or until the thrill wears off. you wanna hear something funny? the last thing my mom told me, almost four years ago, was that no one could ever love me with “that attitude”. i called her last night to tell her she was right, but she had changed her number. isn’t that just the cherry on top of this shit fucking sundae?

first you break my heart, and i can’t even vent to my friends about it because they’re all in your fucking wedding party. then i almost die, and no one even cares. do you know you’re the only person who came to the hospital besides alex? it turns out you weren’t the only one pretending to care about me, it was everyone in my life. and finally, i find out that my own mother changed her number and didn’t bother to tell me. am i that awful? am i that unloveable? i knew karma would catch up to me some day, but i just.. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know who i am. i look in the mirror and i don’t recognize her. i’m still not convinced i didn’t die in my bedroom that night, and that all of this is just my own personal hell. that would make more sense to me than the fact that you were faking it the entire time.

i just can’t figure out WHY? why string me along for so long? was it funny? am i just a big joke to you? was it the challenge? of breaking down my walls just to break ME? was any of it real? i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. that’s what it really comes down to, isn’t it? i’m too much of the bad things and not enough of the good things, and i guess you just finally realized that i wasn’t worth the time, just like everyone else. i thought you were different. add that to the list of things i was wrong about.

you wanna know how i know some cosmic power is laughing at me? the same day i got the invite to your fucking wedding, the bracelet i ordered for you came in the mail. i spent the first paycheck of my music career on a cartier love bracelet for you. it’s rose gold and has our initials engraved on the inside, but you aren’t even LS, are you? god, i am such a fucking CLOWN. i’m usually so much better at realizing when people are lying, god knows i’ve done my fair share of bending the truth. red flags just look like flags with rose-colored glasses, though, right? i wanted you so bad, i wanted you to love me back so bad, i ate up every lie you fed me. and the most pathetic part? all i want right now is for you to lie to me again. to just pretend for a second that you have a heart, and that there’s a place for me in it. but none of that is true. nothing you told me is true. i thought about sending the bracelet back, but i decided to keep it. i wear it now to remind me where love got me: alone, miserable, and bitter. a fucking shell of who i used to be, a pitiful pathetic joke. some kind of fucking freak show for everyone else to sit and laugh at. EVERYONE. even the people i thought were my friends.

i tried so hard. i really REALLY tried. i tried to be good enough for you. i tried to do things right with you. i’m a terrible person, and i know that. i’m a liar and a hypocrite, and it was stupid of me to really think i could ever make you happy. i wish more than anything that i could have done that. i love you so much and i’ve never said that, never felt that for anyone. in my life. honestly. i’ve never even LIKED anyone half as much as you. but the person i knew WASN’T YOU, was it? or maybe it was, and whoever the fuck you’ve become is someone different. either way, you aren’t MY you anymore.

i hope you’re happy. i know that sounds bitter and hateful, but i really mean it. a part of me really does hope you never cared about me, and that none of this phases you at all and you’re living in pure bliss. isn’t that RIDICULOUS? that i want for you to have played the fuck out of me, just to know that you’re happy? i hate that i want you to be happy. i hate you for turning me into a fucking simp. a pathetic little bitch. i fucking hate that you made me love you for nothing.

i want to send this to you so you can feel as bad as i do, but you don’t deserve to see my sadness. you aren’t my love anymore, you’re just a stranger. a liar. a manipulative asshole. and despite it all, i still love you. i hate that i do, but i do. i know it’s cliche to say i probably always will, but that’s how it feels. like i’ll never get through this. i’m either going to be miserable and bitter for the rest of my life because i fucked up my shot with the love of my life, or i’m going to drink myself into an early grave. i’m spinning out of control and all i can do is sit in the passenger seat and watch. nothing’s helping. nothing’s working. i can’t drink you away. i can’t smoke you away. i can’t fuck you away. i can’t scream you away. i can’t burn you away. i can’t throw you away. i thought writing this all out would make me feel better, but it just hurts worse. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. [ this continues on for like 3 pages front and back, her handwriting becoming more and more frantic, the pages ripped in a few places from the pressure she was using, ultimately just devolving into random scribbles ]

#i dont.. really have a tag for this ???#♡ — FILED UNDER › 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 #i guess will work #umm #hospital mention //#drug mention //#death mention //#i think thats all ?? idk she gets kinda morbid at one point YIKES LKSAJDFK #also ill say it again... i talk WAY TOO MUCH bc this is literally 1.5k words of ivy FEELING SORRY FOR HERSELF LSKFJALF

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years ago

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Tales from the Future - Batflash Week Day 1: Wards & Didn’t Know They Were Dating

After a tough mission in the future with the Titans, Damian and Wally discovered something very shocking. They couldn't keep this information to themselves, though, and decided to tell their families - save the very people the information is about.

Will the group of Robins and Speedsters stay focused enough to come up with a plan or realize that the future isn't as bad as they're fearing?

Damian watches Jason casually stroll in through the window, one leg swinging in after the other with practiced aloofness. “Tch,” he scoffs, “nice of you to show up.”

“Buzz off, Bat Brat,” Jason says, squeezing in between Dick and Tim on the couch. “I was busy .”

“Who was busy?” Dick asks.

“Me, I just said -”

“No, who was busy,” he clarifies, leering at Jason. Groans erupt from across the room, Damian hiding his face in his hand. Duke huffs from the armchair, mirroring him.

A smack echoes, Dick cursing. Tim glares from the other side of the couch, frowning. “None of us want to hear about Jason’s sex life.”

“I don’t know,” Dick says, rubbing his head, “I could use a good laugh or two.”

Sighing, Wally steps behind Damian. He turns to face his friend. Wally looks unimpressed, a similar expression to the other speedster guests who joined them this afternoon. The older Wally sits on the other armchair across from Duke, closer to Dick. Bart vibrates around the room, not really staying in one place for too long. “Is this how every meeting starts?”

“No,” Damian admits, “sometimes we do more than slap the other.”

Wally’s eyebrow climbs further up his forehead.

“Okay, everyone, settle down,” Damian calls. His brothers quiet immediately, giving him their attention. “We didn’t assemble to tease Jason.”

“But it’s such a fun team building activity.”

“Fuck you, Bubble Butt.”

“How dare you -”

Another clap silences them again. “Do I have to separate you two?” Damian asks, glancing between the older Robins. They dart their gazes towards one another for a brief second before relenting, a white flag waving from their stations. “Good,” he continues, running his hands across his chest. Smooths invisible wrinkles on his charcoal black button-down. “Now we’ve gathered you all for a reason.”

“A very important reason,” Wally preempts Bart, the latter’s jaw hanging. Offhand comment still cocked in his chamber, pulled from the trigger. “That has to deal with Barry and Bruce.”

Their family sobers immediately at the mention of their respective elders. “Really?” Dick asks, “What is it?”

Damian and Wally glance between themselves, silently discussing who would start. Taking too long, Jason breaks their debate. “Someone just freakin ’ start already!”

Taking point, Damian clears his throat. “We’d finished a mission with Jon, saying our goodbyes to him and his team in the future…”

A mission to the future seemed too early for Damian’s ragtag team of Titans. He could barely get them to stop fighting each other to handle villains of this century, there was no telling how they’d fare against criminals with advanced and alien tech. Yet Jon came for him at an inopportune time. Bubble bursting in during a team meeting, popping out with his friend , Saturn Girl.

“Damian,” he panted, ash smudged across his face, “I need you.”

That was all the convincing needed. Except the moment he set a foot into the time bubble a gust of wind sped past and snatched his wrist.

Wally wouldn’t let Damian leave them, the others gathering round demanding to be brought along. Damian scowled, trying to figure out a quick enough argument to shut the idea down without offending them. Because he promised them he’d be kinder . Kindness cost him dearly, since Saturn Girl gave them a free pass by saying, “Of course you can come along.”

Carried into the time bubble by the incoming stampede, they squished together to travel to the 31st century. He squirmed between Crush and Roundhouse, annoying Wally given the timed puffs of air he breathed through his nose.

“You were tickling my chin,” Wally scoffs, “And it was taking too slow.”

“We were advancing 1000 years in a blink of an eye!” Damian cries, “There’s nothing slow about it -”

“Guys, focus!” Wally says, “What does this have to do with Barry and Bruce?”

“Well, when we got there it turns out this villain had taken control of their head quarters,” Wally says, ignoring his cousin.

A green, floating eyeball paraded around the Legion of Superheroes’ Clubhouse. Members with glowing, verdant gazes stalked the halls like zombies. Unfortunately they proved much more resourceful and smarter than their appearance.

An accidental sneeze from Roundhouse alerted their presence, and heroes descended upon them. Damian found himself holding off a wolf-man with his staff caught in his sharp jaws. When he flipped the beast off him, Damian saw the rest of his team separated and battling in their own small groups. And the eye, watching them. Waiting.

“Its owner entered with fanfare,” Damian tells them, “using this boy who shoots lightning for special effects.”

Tim yawns, “Why does this matter?”

“It does! Now, she entered…”

The Emerald Empress immediately captured Roundhouse with her Eye, trapping him in her spell like all the others. Saturn Girl shouted for them to retreat, falling back towards a secret tunnel. Except on their way Djinn snagged her ankle on a waiting hand, phased through the floor.

“Go!” she says, “I’ll be fine!”

Damian froze, only Wally’s fast reflexes pulling him out from falling debris dropped by a gravity manipulator. They left Djinn and Crush - the latter shoving past Emiko to help the other girl. Behind the shut door of the secret entrance Damian saw emerald light flash and his heart sank.

“This is why you should have stayed in the past,” Damian growled once they snuck far enough away, “Not even five minutes and we’ve already lost half the team!”

“We’ll save them, Damian,” Wally said, a steady calm to the raging storm brewing inside the smaller boy, “We always will.”

“Don’t see how,” Emiko added, the first few words since travelling to the future. “Her Eye looks kitted to the max. Coupled with the heroes she already has under her thrall and the ones we gave her… I don’t think we have much of a chance.”

Damian huffed, “Especially once she combines her Eye with Djinn’s magic -”

“Djinn?” Bart asks, “Who’s Djinn? You keep mentioning her.”

Flushing, Damian glances at the grandfather clock ticking ceaselessly in the lounge. “She’s a team member of ours… very powerful magic, one of our strongest assets, and -”

“Damian’s got a total crush on her.”

He whips his head to glare at Wally, the other boy standing nonplussed. Instead of a smirk, a harsh line cuts across his face. As if his words were more of a tiresome fact than rope to hang him with.

His brothers gladly string him up. Dick coos, “Aw, you’ve got a crush Damian?”

“Thank God,” Jason says, “Maybe you’ll finally get that stick out of your ass.”

“Does this mean we have to chaperone you?” Tim asks, “Because I don’t want to double date…”

Duke leans forward in his seat. “Are we going to ever meet her?”

Damian waves their comments away. “This isn’t about me. And for the record I don’t have a crush.”

Jason scoffs, “Sounds like what someone with a crush would say.”

“I don’t!”

“Jason knows what’s he’s talking ‘bout,” Dick nods, clapping Jason’s shoulder, “Guy’s king of unrequited crushes.”

He brushes Dick’s hand off him. “Fuck you, at least half of them were requited.”

“Sure, and I made it to fifth base with Harley Quinn…”

Bart zips over to Tim, whispering. “What’s fifth base?”

Tim shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

Wally pinches his brow, reclining into his armchair. “Can we please get back to the story?”

“I would be glad to,” Damian says, “if people would let me.” Given the floor once more, Damian carries on where he left off.

They regrouped. Jon led them in a motivational speech, every word and gesture oozing small town sensibility. His father would be proud. After he rallied the troops, Saturn Girl presented schematics of the Legion headquarters. Damian and Emiko poured over the holograms, planning their assault. Satisfied with a course of action, the group returned.

Although their plans strayed early on from the course they laid. A few heroes that Saturn Girl thought were off-planet appeared and forced them to separate. Damian and Jon fled down one hallway, followed by a barrage of shrapnel. Cosmic Boy, as Jon told him, barreled their way with a Lantern and an orange lizard-creature at his side.

Jon handled the flankers, Damian keeping Cosmic Boy occupied. With power over metal most of his arsenal was useless, and he dropped it so he wouldn’t be controlled. Instead Damian relied on his training, utilizing the environment to his advantage. Waiting for Leading Cosmic Boy into a narrow hallway, snaking around the metal he pulled. Pushing his reflexes to the limit, Damian dodged each swipe until Cosmic Boy trapped himself in a cage of wires and panels.

Unable to move, Damian rabbit punched him.

Jon dumped his attackers to the floor when Damian returned, and together they advanced to the main room. Regrouping with the others, they stormed where Emerald Empress hid.

More heroes awaited them, guarding their queen while she mixed the emerald energy from her eye with Djinn’s unique purple magic. This timeline’s Doctor Fate underneath like a scale, helping to balance the power.

Knocking away a ball boy into identical triplets, Damian noticed the colors mixing together hideously. Terribly foreboding, a chill shot through his spine. “We need to stop this!” he yelled, tumbling underneath lightning.

Wally wrapped up a talking raccoon and hurled him towards a green-skinned boy. Being the only one who heard Damian, he tracked his gaze to the makeshift throne. “Okay,” he said, “let’s stop this.”

“So?” Bart asks, “How’d you stop it?”

Damian pouts, crossing his arms. “He threw me.”

“What?”

“He threw men,” he repeats, “at the Emerald Empress.”

Wally nods, smiling. “While I dealt with Doctor Fate.”

With those two erased from the equation, it was only Djinn and the Emerald Eye. Their auras swirled in battle for dominance. When it looked like the green would overtake Djinn’s purple, her eyes flashed brilliantly violet and swept over the encroaching light like a tidal wave. Purple energy coursed through the Emerald Eye until it short-circuited and turned grey. It fell to the floor, powerless.

Spell broken, the others woke from their trances. Some moaned with pain while others blinked in confusion. Their friends, Crush and Roundhouse, staggered away from Saturn Girl and Jon while returning to their senses.

“You beat the villain, big whoop,” Jason says, “still don’t see what this has to do with Bats and Flash.”

Wally rolls his eyes. “After the fight, when we were saying our goodbyes to the team…”

Roundhouse bounced between Jon, Saturn Girl, Wally and him, drawing the Legionnaires attention towards him. Asked questions with blazing speed that surpassed their speedster. Jon led him away from the group, Saturn Girl at his side while explaining a few of the concepts to sate his curiosity.

Leaving Wally and Damian open for an ambush.

“Excuse me?” someone cleared their throat behind them, “I… I can’t believe you’re actually here…”

Startled, Damian brandished a bat-a-rang immediately and spun on his heel to attack. Before he could launch his weapon, though, Wally gripped his wrist in an iron vice. “Damian, no ,” he scolded, nodding towards the frightened teenager in front of them, “ friend .”

He glared at the speedster, unrelenting in his combat stance. Wally didn’t back down either.

The newcomer looked between them, nerves dying as each second ticked on by. “Uh… is he gonna put that down?”

“Yes.” “ No .”

Wally sighed, lowering Damian’s hand. “Sorry, we’re a little on edge…”

“Yeah, yeah,” the teen said, “Emerald Empress took a lot out of all of us… your team did a great job.”

Nodding, Damian used his silence to study the newcomer. Recognizes him from their previous battle as the one with lightning powers. If he hadn’t witnessed his powers in action the costume would telegraph immediately what he can do. Lightning bolts mean two things - and he didn’t rush away like any other speedster would when presented with danger. So that meant the only other option was electricity manipulation. “Who are you?”

“Oh, right, uh -” the teen chuckles awkwardly, scratching his head, “the name’s Garth - or, uh Lightning Lad.”

“Cool. I’m Wally, Kid Flash. And my trigger happy friend is Damian -”

“ Robin .”

“...I was getting to that.”

Garth beamed, “I know, I know! I… kinda know a lot about you, actually…”

A chill raced down Damian’s spine at the giddiness crackling across Garth’s face. Being trapped with a fanboy is not what he needed. Wally tensed as well, darting his gaze over in silent communication. However a different emotion flickered behind his eyes, telling Damian to suck up whatever outburst bubbled up inside him. He snapped his jaw shut. Agreeing to play nice only because he felt too tired to cause a scene.

“Hey,” Wally started, “it’s always great to meet a fan -”

“A huge fan,” Garth cut him off, “Like, you’re such an inspiration. I remember growing up, whenever a dust storm tore through our settlement and we’d be locked inside for days , my brother, sister and I would read up on all your classic adventures.” He turns to Damian, “Both of yours.”

“I’m surprised you had time to even read about his ,” Damian smirked, “ my adventures - that have passed and are yet to come - should have been enough entertainment.”

“...Actually you’re featured in a lot of Flash’s stories.”

Damian bristled again, not caring for how Wally’s chest puffed up. Only to deflate slightly, with a sigh. “Looks like I’ll never get rid of you,” he mumbled.

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I still hang around you after all these years…”

Garth chuckled. “Oh, man… the banter is just like they said it’d be.” He bounced where he stood, sparks jumping off his shoulders. “I really can’t believe… you two. Some of the best teen heroes. You are part of the reason I am who I am today. I’ve met Superman and Jon already… all I’ll need for my life to be complete is to meet the originals and I’ll be set!”

“Originals?” Damian asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You know, your mentors. Batman and Flash ,” Garth continued, eyes glowing blue, “Those guys, I mean… Growing up where I’m from there were some pretty strict rules on how to live your life. If you didn’t fit the mold you’d be ignored and cast aside. My brother Mekt… being born without a twin… Anyway, Batman and Flash were in your face with who they were. When they came out they didn’t bat an eye -”

“What?”

Damian and Wally leaned forward with vested interest. “What?” Wally said again, “What do you mean, ‘came out’?”

“When they publicly announced they were dating?” Garth answered, “Well… it’s not like they had a choice, what with that picture in the Gotham Gazette but - hey, they didn’t deny it! That’s…” He stilled, finally noticing the expressions of the others. “You didn’t know? But aren’t you from… wait, what year are you from?”

“2019.”

Garth paled, stepping away from them. “Oh… oh frack . I - I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

It didn’t matter. The future dropped upon them like a bombshell. Damian’s vision whited briefly until he blinked into awareness once more. Wally’s grip on his wrist tightened, reminding him that throughout the conversation he latched on like a vice. Wrenching free, the bat-a-rang fell with a clatter.

“Please,” Garth whispered urgently, “forget I said anything. Brainy’s all about not interfering with the timeline. If he finds out I outed them he’ll kill me… and that’d really hurt my chances with the guy.” He looked between them. “You don’t have any questions, do you?”

There were a million. Except Jon returned, telling them how it was time the Titans returned to the present. Herded into the time bubble, Wally and Damian didn’t say another word about what they learned. Waiting for the perfect moment to discuss it.

With others who deserved to know.

They watch their family process the information, breath held, waiting for a response.

Bart reacts first. He snorts, drawing all focus to him. A single laugh blossoms into a full-body heave until he tips over the couch, sprawling across Damian’s brothers’ laps. “That’s really funny guys,” he wheezes, “Seriously… amazing.”

Damian scowls. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because it’s not true?”

“We were in the future, Bart,” Wally says, “How can it not be true?”

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m from the future?” he says, “Because I’m Barry and Iris’s grandson . If they somehow didn’t end up together d’you think I’d still be here?”

��Then again,” Tim interrupts, “you are from a timeline that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Bart’s good mood shatters into a million pieces. Pouting, he glares at his friend. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Jason shifts under his heavy weight, rolling Bart off. “So,” he says after the heavy thud , “What are we gonna do?”

“Who says we have to do anything?” Duke says, “It sounds like them getting together is a good thing - hey !” He whacks the pillow thrown at him from its target, his face. Jason, the guilty culprit, looks remorseless. “What was that?”

“You were speaking crazy,” Jason tells him, “How can Bruce dating Barry be any good .”

Dick smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “Wow, Jason. Didn’t know you were a homophobe .”

“Fuck you, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Jason sinks into the couch, mirroring his brother. “If Bruce really is gay, bi or… queer than… it’ll be another thing we have in common,” he whines, “The more that happens the sadder I get.”

“Wow,” Dick says, voice thick with emotion. He reaches across to squeeze Jason’s shoulder. “I can’t believe… you actually followed through whenever I told you to suck a dick. I’m proud of you.”

Slapping Dick off him, Jason bares his teeth in a growl. “Keep talking and I’ll show you how I beat Dick .”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Wally zooms from his seat and breaks the two apart, hands firm against their chests. “Knock it off you two, we’re getting distracted from the bigger picture… how to make sure this doesn’t happen.”

“You mean you don’t want to be brothers, Wall?”

He rolls his eyes at Dick’s artificially sweet expression. “Batman’s creepy enough without imagining him all domestic with Barry.”

“Or all sex-like ,” Jason adds, making every wrinkle in the room crease with agony.

Damian shakes the image from his mind, switching back onto the topic at hand. “Now we’ll have to be very careful so they won’t find out we’re on to them -”

“Which’ll be hard,” Tim adds, “they’re two of the best detectives in the world.”

“But they’re only two people,” Wally says, stepping closer to Damian, “we’re a team . Trade shifts - always knowing where they are. Making sure they’re not alone together.”

Wally raises a brow at his cousin. “I bet you want to tell Superman or Wonder Woman, too… have an inside operative during Justice League meetings.”

“...That could work.”

Duke stands with a shout, interrupting the planning. “This is crazy! If Bruce and Barry want to be together than why should we get in the way? It seems like the future’s pretty good when they’re a couple. Are we really gonna get in the way of that?”

His outburst brings an unexpected bout of clarity to Damian’s plans, parting the cloudy skies for sunshine to burst through. Reminded of Garth’s casual openness about himself and his reverence to Damian’s father, he winces.

Like dominoes everyone else sobers into quiet reflection. The energy fueling the crazy planning in the room deflates, letting everyone return to their senses. Damian feels the tightness of his bones over hearing the shocking news finally settle, as if coming to terms with the future.

Dick clears his throat, the first to break the silence. “But if they do get together,” he starts, waiting until he’s found every eye in the room before continuing, “... then Jason won’t be special anymore.”

“That’s it !”

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

Bruce adjusts himself on the Batcave’s examination table, eyes fluttering shut as Barry runs careful fingers across his temple. When they stumble over the cut he hisses, a hand darting over to squeeze his.

“Sorry ‘bout that, babe,” Barry says, “that’s one well hidden wound.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “It’s my fault for letting Kite Man get the drop on me.” The mediocre villain swooped in and sliced open his cowl with the tail of his giant kite, catching the Dark Knight in a moment of weakness. If Barry hadn’t been at his side, he would have walked away with much worse.

“I’m surprised he got a few good swings in,” Barry says, dabbing at the cut with some peroxide, “You feeling okay?”

“I’ve… got a lot on my mind.”

Barry pauses, pulling away. Bruce cracks one eye open, frowning at the seriousness weighing on his lover’s shoulders.

“Nothing bad,” he continues, snaking his arms across Barry’s waist to bring him closer. Spreads his legs open so he can fit between them. He nuzzles at his chest, enjoying the frantic heartbeat that is normal for Barry Allen. “I… I’ve been thinking about us and… the future .”

“...Wanna elaborate on that so my mind won’t fill in the blanks?”

Bruce takes a steadying breath, the words rushing from his mouth afterwards. “I want to tell the boys about us.”

An eternity passes in a second, Bruce clinging tight to Barry’s body. Afraid the other man will vibrate free and out of his life. That never happens. Instead the opposite, Barry settles further into the moment. Tips Bruce’s head so he can see the beaming smile on his face.

“What brought this on?”

“I… I just think that we've been really good,” Bruce explains, hating how his nerves easily expose themselves in the tremble of his voice. “And I understood why you wanted to take this slow, in case things don’t work out. It wouldn’t be the first for either of us, to have a relationship fall apart. But everyday you stay by my side and I… I feel different. Better. Happier . And I think the same is true for you. We’re making each other better people. I love you and I love the person you inspire me to be… And I want my family to know.”

Barry offers a wet chuckle, hiding in Bruce’s hair. He kisses the cut he grazed earlier, a few tears trickling into it. Composing himself, Barry straightens in Bruce’s embrace. “I love you, too,” he says, “And if you want to tell your boys then… I want to tell the Flash family, too.”

“Really?”

“We should do it together, actually,” he continues, skin vibrating in excitement, “have some sort of family dinner!”

“They’ll immediately sense something’s up if we do that,” Bruce laughs, “You sure we can’t just call a meeting down here and… rip the band-aid off? In costume?”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. I mean what’s the worst that can happen?”

Bruce readies a response, only the clacking of Alfred’s heels interrupts him. His butler speeds over with anxious haste. “Master Bruce? Barry?”

“Yes Alfred?”

“It’s the boys.”

A headache tickles his head, adding to the pain already camping there. “Which boys.”

“All the boys,” he says, turning to Barry, “even your boys.”

“What?” Barry asks, “What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know, but a fight’s broken out!”

Barry tenses against Bruce. “A fight?”

Bruce, disappointed, sighs while sliding off the table. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. One moment I was in the kitchen readying dinner and the next I knew there were crashing sounds coming from the parlor. When I got there Duke had a speedster in a headlock, Dick and Wally were fighting, and Jason hung Damian off the chandelier… again .”

Frowning, Bruce fixes his cowl. He looks to Barry, “Looks like family dinner will have to wait.”

Barry shrugs, mirroring him. “I can hope. Besides… that wouldn’t have been very us , would it?” He slips his hand into Bruce’s waiting one, squeezing.

“No it wouldn’t,” Bruce agrees. “Now come on, we have a fight to break up.”

#Batflash #Batman x Flash #Batman/Flash #bruce wayne x barry allen #Bruce Wayne #Barry Allen #Batman #Flash #Robin #Kid Flash #Damian Wayne #Wally West #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Bart Allen #Duke Thomas #Batflash fanfic #Batflash week

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half-bakedboy · 5 years ago

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New York Pride

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Simon’s van was filled to the brim with flags of all colors, glitter of all types, and the grinning faces of the large group of friends. Jace sat in the passenger seat, his body angling toward the back seat with one hand resting on Simon’s thigh. He was talking to Clary, Izzy, and Maia, who were all squished in the back seat. Izzy had her legs thrown over Maia’s lap and her head resting on Clary’s shoulder. Clary placed soft kisses on her head intermittently, the smile never leaving her lips as Izzy twirled her red hair in her fingers. Maia tapped out a beat on Izzy’s legs, matching the punk rock music Simon had playing on the stereo. Helen and Aline were attached at the mouth in the very back with an incredibly annoyed Raphael smushed next to them. The music was loud and the laughter was louder as Simon drove the short distance to the end of the New York Pride parade.

As the group stumbled out of the van, they were immediately bombarded with the loud sounds of pop music pumping from the speakers and the cheerful laughter of the guests. Simons grin widened as he caught a glimpse of the pansexual pride flag blowing in the light breeze. He’d always known his sexuality was fluid, but it wasn’t until he’d met Jace that he realized just how fluid. The blonde man sparked something in him which was a mixture between constant anger and overwhelming love. He was pushed out from his thoughts when Jace’s arm flung around his shoulder, pulling him close.

“Ready to get your stuff? You’re on in about 3 hours.” The excitement and support evident in Jace’s voice, it was enough to cause Simon to lean over and place a wet kiss to his cheek. Jace pushed him away jokingly, their hands now connected as they walked toward the stage. “We’ll see you guys in a bit. Enjoy pride!”

Jace had been obsessed with redheaded women for as long as he could remember. The moment he laid eyes on Clary, he thought he’d found the love of his life. Jace had never felt an interest in men, that is until Simon walked through the door. He knew Alec was gay for a long time, so it wasn’t something completely foreign to him, but there was never anyone who stuck out to him. That all changed the minute Simon entered the coffee shop. With his glasses just a little askew on his face and his hair just a little messed up, Jace was hooked.

It took more than one “accidental” run in for Simon to realize that Jace was interested. Simon had always assumed Jace was trying to get with Clary no matter how many times Clary told him that wasn’t the case. What made Simon realize their connection, was when Jace pretended an ex had walked it. Jace quickly wrapped his arms around Simon, planting a kiss on his lips. When Simon asked what was going on, Jace shrugged and introduced Simon as his boyfriend. From then on, that introduction stuck. It wasn’t until a few days later that Simon learned that the “ex” was actually Jace’s sister, Izzy.

Jace wanted nothing more than to explore New York Pride with Simon, but the pride he had for his boyfriend eclipsed that need. Simon had landed the opening spot to perform on the main stage at this giant event. He’d auditioned only because Jace tricked him into it. When he got the call, Jace had hugged him so hard, he’d lifted him up off the ground. Simon’s smile was the only thing in the world that made Jace’s heart start racing and to see it shine so brightly on a day like today? He couldn’t believe how he’d gotten so lucky.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jace saw Simon continually glancing over to one of the booths selling flags. Right before they reached the stage, Jace redirected them to the booth, Simon resisting the tug of Jace’s hand.

“Jace, what?” Jace walked to the booth, looking at the assortment of flags in front of them. Finding the one he wanted, he reached out and grabbed it before placing a few bills on the table. He turned towards a slightly red Simon and wrapped the flag around his neck, giving Simon a pansexual cape.

“You’re Pan Man. The pansexual superhero who’s about to rock the stage at New York Pride!” Jace yelled excitedly, twirling Simon and gaining the interest of a few people around them. Simon shook his head before he leaned in and connected their lips in a fiery kiss. A few whistles and calls were thrown in their direction, all positive, earning a wide smile from both of the boys. “Let’s get you over to the stage,” Jace muttered, throwing his arm over Simon’s shoulders and leading him toward their destination.

~~~~~~

Izzy was always dressed to kill. Her black leather dress was short and deeply cut, but this was Pride and she could be whoever she wanted to be. Yeah, it might have been a bit too hot for leather and it was probably not the best idea to wear 6-inch heels, but she looked good. And she wasn’t afraid to show it. She looked to either side of her to make sure her girlfriends were still close enough for her to defend if they needed it. Not that she expected to need to, but she was the momma bear of the group.

She’d met Clary first. Pretending to be her brother’s ex-girlfriend in order for him to finally land the guy he’d been pining over for weeks. It was uncomfortable and weird, especially when she’d had to wait another month to see the redhead again so she didn’t blow Jace’s cover. When she was finally introduced to Clary officially, Izzy had immediately fallen in love with her creativity and soft nature. When she found out she was in a relationship, it had taken Izzy a few weeks to convince herself she could just be friends with Clary.

What she wasn’t expecting was to go out on a date with Clary and Maia and fall in love with them both. They were the most interesting couple Izzy had ever met. Clary was a gentle creature who giggled at everything around her. Maia was tough and badass and radiated confidence at every turn. Izzy knew she was in trouble from the start. When Clary asked her on a one-on-one date, Izzy wasn’t even sure it was a date. Until Clary had tucked her hair behind her ear and ran her thumb across Izzy’s lips. Izzy asked about Maia before their lips touched and Clary just giggled softly, rubbing her nose across Izzy’s softly. Clary informed her that Maia would get her turn and proceeded to kiss Izzy so gently, she thought she may melt.

From that moment on, their relationship had grown into one that Izzy never thought possible. She loved Clary and Maia equally and they loved her the same. Izzy never felt like she was ‘joining in’ on Clary and Maia’s relationship and the two women made a point of that. Izzy felt loved more than she ever thought possible and she loved in return as much as her heart would let her.

Walking around pride with her hand grasped tight in Clary’s while Maia had an arm around her shoulder was the most free Izzy had ever felt. They all wandered together, never breaking their connection as they passed booth filled with flags, pamphlets, and drag queens. Izzy stopped abruptly when she saw the pi symbol out of the corner of her eye. As a major nerd, Izzy wondered what the pi symbol was doing on a flag, so she detached herself from her girlfriend’s and moved through the crowd to get to the booth.

“Excuse me?” Izzy said softly, motioning towards the black, red, and blue flag. “What is this flag? For like nerdy gays or something?” Izzy joked, earning a hearty laugh from the large man behind the counter.

“Honey, it’s for polyamory. Like, dating multipl--” Izzy squealed before she could stop herself, a shocked look crossing the man’s face. She turned towards Clary and Maia only to meet their smirks.

“You never told me we had our own flag!!” Izzy accused, reaching over to grab one and tying it around her shoulders. Clary and Maia giggled together, their hands attached as they watched their adorable girlfriend pay for her flag. “It has pi on it, guys! Pi!!” Izzy reiterated, twirling to show them her newly acquired accessory. Maia stepped forward, pulling Izzy into her arms and kissing her cheek. Clary leaned over and pressed her lips to her other cheek softly, both pulling back to smile at each other.

“How in the world did we find her?” Maia asked, a look of pride on her face as she glanced back at Izzy, excitedly speaking to the booth owner. Clary shook her head, leaning her shoulder against Maia’s.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

~~~~~~

Aline was used to pride activities. Growing up, her mother was always supportive of her sexuality. Of course, Aline was never going to take anything but what she deserved. She’d always had a strong personality and a hard head. Her mother knew that and if Aline said she was a lesbian, than she was a lesbian. That was that. And her mother would love her no matter what. Aline had never really shown interest in romantic aspects of life. She’d been focused and competitive throughout high school and even more so in college.

The minute her eyes met Helen’s, she knew she was toast. Helen had just joined the gym Aline worked at as a trainer part time in college. She immediately signed up for all of the classes possible, most of which Aline taught. When Helen walked into the first class, Aline immediately matched up with her. She had tried to make it obvious that she was interested. Helen was a bit more shy than Aline, though. It took a few more weeks for Aline to convince her to go on a date. Their first date was a huge success though and they’d been together ever since.

Aline glanced over at Helen, who was rifling through the graphic t’s on one of the tables. The woman behind the counter was helping her and Aline could see the flirting from her position a few feet away. Obviously, Helen was oblivious, so Aline had to step in.

“Hi, beautiful. Which one do you like?” Helen held up a shirt with three moons in different phases, filled in with the bisexual flag. Underneath, it said ‘I am not a phase’. Aline sighed, pulling Helen into her arms and kissing her forehead gently. It was no secret to the two of them that Helen’s family didn’t believe in her bisexuality. They thought she’d get over it and when they met Aline, they finally realized that it wasn’t something to get over. Unfortunately, that caused a rift between them and Helen was all alone. But she had Aline and Aline was sure to remind her that she wasn’t alone every chance she got.

“I want to get this one, I think,” she said softly, holding it out to the woman behind the booth along with her payment. Aline smiled at her and held Helen just a little tighter. When the woman walked away, Helen giggled into Aline’s neck. “She wasn’t flirting, babe,” she said through her laughter. Aline rolled her eyes and placed her hand on Helen’s chin to meet her eyes.

“I never said she was, babe,” Aline responded, placing a gentle kiss on her lips just as the woman came back with her change. She smiled at the two of them, placing the money on the counter.

“You are really cute together. I hope you enjoy pride!” The woman said happily. Aline instantly felt relief flood through her. She was as competitive as anyone else, but she didn’t feel like ruining pride over something like jealousy. Aline wished her a happy pride back and pulled Helen along by her waist. She stopped at another booth and pushed Helen into the seat. At Helen’s questioning look, Aline just smiled, pointing to the glitter tattoos being offered.

“How about a pink, purple, and blue fairy for my fairy?” Aline said, beckoning the artist over. Helen nodded her head before pulling Aline into her lap and letting the artist start her work. Aline watched as Helen talked with the artist, a smile never leaving her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this happy and it was all because of Helen.

~~~~~~

Pride wasn’t really Raphael’s thing. He didn’t understand why people like him needed a giant event in order to be proud of who they were, but he wasn’t one to step on his friends fun. Well, he absolutely was, but not with this. His group of friends had accepted every aspect of him like it was no problem and he’d promised himself he’d always do the same. He glanced around at the rainbow colors flying through the air and sighed to himself. The sun was too hot, the colors were too bright, and he really just wanted to be at home right now.

“Mind if I join you?” A smooth voice asked. Raphael turned to see a beautiful man standing in front of the bench he had claimed. He gestured towards the seat next to him, moving over slightly so he could sit down. Raphael looked back at his phone, assuming the man just needed a seat away from the excitement but his voice chimed again. “I’m Meliorn. And you are?” Raphael looked up from his phone to glance back at Meliorn, raising his eyebrows. Meliorn mimicked him, the look on his face urging Raphael to introduce himself.

“Raphael,” he said quickly, looking back down at his phone. He heard Meliorn laugh beside him and rolled his eyes.

“You know, for someone at the happiest place on earth right now, you’re pretty glum,” Meliorn remarked, crossing his legs on the bench and facing Raphael. Raphael looked up once more, turning to really look at Meliorn. He had to admit that he was pleasing to look at.

“I’m here with friends. I don’t really belong… here.” Raphael looked around at all the sexually explicit material and the half naked and leather clad men and women surrounding him. Meliorn tilted his head in question and Raphael sighed. “Not that I need to explain myself, but I’m asexual. I don’t fit in with the LGBT crowd,” Raphael mumbled, a bit scared to meet Meliorn’s eyes.

It was only a few months ago that he found a term for what he felt his whole life. While other kids in high school were experiencing their first times, Raphael stayed on the sidelines, content to just listen to their stories in silence. In college, when his roommate would kick him out of their dorm to bring a girl home on a Saturday night, Raphael would go study in the common area. People had always told him he’d be happier if he just ‘got laid’. Or that he’d obviously just never found the right person to have fun with. He didn’t see it that way.

One late night, after the rest of the group had gone to bed, he let out his sorrows as the alcohol swam through his system. He had his head in Simon’s lap and his feet in Izzy’s and he just let it all out. How never in his life did he feel that urge to join with someone. He never looked a woman or man and thought about what they’d be like in bed. He confessed to them about how he wanted a partner, someone to share his life with, but sex just wasn’t something he was interested in doing. Izzy nodded, rubbing a supportive hand up and down his shin while Simon played with his hair. Izzy said the word first. Asexual. She read the definition out loud and something clicked inside Raphael. His tears fell more freely then and his embarrassment was suffocated by the love he had for his best friends beside him. In the end, he’d felt more secure in what he was and he had them to thank for it.

“You belong here, Raphael,” Meliorn said softly. Raphael could’ve sworn his voice sounded like velvet. Meliorn reached towards his hand and Raphael quickly pulled it back, a fearful look on his face. “I want to show you something. Can I?” Raphael nodded slowly, letting Meliorn take his hand. They walked through the crowds of people, their hands never leaving each others grip. Meliorn stopped in front of a booth, finally letting go of his hand. Raphael looked up from his feet to see an upside down triangle filled in with white, gray, and black. He tilted his head back to take a look at the name of the organization and gasped softly.

“Welcome to The Asexual Visibility and Education Network’s booth, fellas! We have some free stickers and pins and for a small donation, you get a flag!” Raphael gaped at the man and blindly accepted the sticker and pin he had offered. Meliorn handed over a small amount of cash to the man before wrapping a flag around Raphael’s bicep.

“This is pride, Raphael. You belong here. Just the way you are.” Meliorn gripped onto his arms underneath the flag in a sign of comfort. Raphael didn’t know what overtook him, but he threw himself into Meliorn’s arms and hugged him as tight as he could. Meliorn smiled into Raphael’s shoulder, holding him back just as tightly.

“Thank you…” Raphael didn’t think the words were enough and he stared down at the black, gray, white, and purple flag covering his bicep. “You… You don’t know what this means to me…” He shook his head as Meliorn took out a marker from his backpack.

“If you ever need to talk or you know, want to hang out, here’s my number.” Meliorn wrote down the digits quickly on Raphael’s wrist, blowing on the drying ink and causing a shiver to rush through the other man. Raphael shook his head, finally noting the bisexual flag on his cheek.

“But you… You’re bisexual?” Meliorn nodded, taking a few steps back from Raphael.

“Sex isn’t a deal breaker, Raphael. I’ll see you around,” he shouted as he disappeared into the crowd. Meliorn didn’t know how much that sentence meant to Raphael or how much that day changed him.

~~~~~~

The beginning of the parade was starting to look like a riot with the amount of people rushing to their places and making last minute adjustments to floats. Andrew was content watching his boyfriend direct orders to everyone beside him. He just sipped his water bottle, avoiding runners left and right.

“We’re almost done with the lineup! Marshalls, are you ready?” Lorenzo shouted, standing back as the music started playing on the first float. The Marshall’s shouted back and Lorenzo motioned for them to start. The crowd immediately went wild. Andrew had to hold onto the blockers behind him in order to stay on his feet. He’d never heard anything so loud and cheerful.

“You okay, love?” Andrew heard Lorenzo’s voice next to his ear and unconsciously leaned towards the sound. Lorenzo’s arm wrapped around his waist as they watched as the parade moved slowly forward. Andrew nodded, letting his body lean into Lorenzo’s chest.

Andrew had never been to a Pride before. In fact, he’d never really considered it as something he needed to do. When he first came out, he didn’t have any friends who were part of the community. He’d grown up in a small, unpopulated town, where everyone knew everyone and most everyone was straight. It wasn’t until he got to college and met Alec that he realized how many people just like him there were in the world. With Alec came Magnus, the extravagant, flamboyant, tornado of a bisexual man. He’d never met anyone like Magnus before. And with Magnus came Lorenzo.

Lorenzo Rey.

Andrew never expected to find the love of his life in college. He had always assumed that when he was 30, he would get tired of waiting and join some online dating service for the incredibly awkward and settle for a less-than-ideal man. He never expected he’d meet Lorenzo. If he did expect it, he would have changed the circumstances considerably.

Magnus was always the life of the party. And since Alec was more of a sidelines type of guy, Andrew had taken it upon himself to join their club excursions to save Alec from getting hit on every woman and man who didn’t see the undying love in his eyes for the dancing man on the floor. Magnus was so grateful for the new addition, he invited his oldest friend to join them one night. The one night that Andrew decided to get incredibly drunk and dance with Magnus for the first time just had to be the same night.

This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem for most people, but Andrew was a mess on the dance floor even when he was sober. His body moved to the beat, limbs flailing around carelessly before he smacked a drink right out of someone's hand and all over his pants. In his drunken haze, Andrew had kneeled in front of him, dabbing at the stain with his t-shirt, not noticing the stares and laughter around him, Magnus’ included. It wasn’t until Magnus pulled him up by his arm that he got a look at Lorenzo. And man, was he glad to look. He would have been embarrassed about his previous move if Lorenzo’s eyes weren’t so kindly staring at him. The rest of the night was filled with more kindness, less embarrassing laughter, and gentle kisses Andrew would never forget.

A few months later, when they had gotten more serious, Lorenzo mentioned to Andrew how the next few months were going to be extremely busy for him as he had many meetings to attend. When Andrew inquired further, Lorenzo shyly admitted his role as Head of Parade Operations for New York Pride. While Andrew had never been to a Pride, he knew that New York had one of the biggest and most exorbitant parades in the country. He was incredibly impressed that Lorenzo was the one that put it all together.

Andrew had gone to a few meetings with Lorenzo as his boyfriend insisted on ‘showing him off’ to the other members of the group. The group was incredible. They’d ask for Andrew’s input constantly to help him feel included and he’d never heard such a collective gasp when he mentioned he’d never been to Pride. Lorenzo gaped at him but quickly changed the subject upon sensing Andrew’s discomfort.

After that, Andrew told him about his childhood. It was the first time he’d spoken about it with someone who was like him. Lorenzo had been nothing but supportive of his stories of growing up in a small town where he couldn’t really be gay. He was open about being gay, but he didn’t feel like he fit in anywhere and Lorenzo just grabbed his hand and spoke to him about how much he fit.

With Lorenzo in his arms, the music and cheers filling the air, Andrew felt an overwhelming wave of emotion rush through him. For the first time in his life, he felt like he fit.

“Sweetie, ready to head to the end?” Lorenzo whispered, placing a soft kiss on Andrew’s ear and holding him just a little bit tighter. Andrew shook his head, taking a deep breath.

“Just a little bit longer?” Lorenzo squeezed his waist, nodding his head before placing it on Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew basked in the feeling of being accepted and loved, closing his eyes and taking in all of the sounds around him.

~~~~~~

Alec knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved in yet another one of Magnus’ crazy ideas. His husband was full of them and somehow, marriage meant Alec was always dragged into them. This was how he found himself sitting in a makeup chair, face covered in makeup and a wig on top of his head. It itched more than he liked and the urge to run his hands over his face was stronger than usual. Magnus finished up the final touches of glitter before kissing his fingers mimicking a chef.

“Perfecto!” Magnus shouted, twirling Alec around so he could look at himself in the mirror. Alec shook his head, his eyes wide with worry.

“Magnus, what? I don’t know about this…” Magnus just laughed, wrapping his arms around his husband’s shoulders, pressing the lightest of kisses on his cheek, careful not to mess up his hard work.

“You look fantastic, my love. Plus, you know that Pearl backed out last minute and she was my duet partner. I need someone I trust who has been to every rehearsal and knows the words and moves. Who better than my at home dance partner?” Magnus fluttered his eyelashes and Alec sighed heavily. There was no way he could say no to that face.

“I will do the performance with you at the end of the parade. I will wave and throw candy because I support you with my whole heart. But I will notbe happy about it.” The smile widened on Magnus’ face and Alec couldn’t help but mimic it. He pressed his bright red lips to Magnus’ cheek as he stood up and pulled on the ridiculous outfit Magnus had chosen for him. Magnus had looked amazing in his hot pink leather dress and Alec found himself drooling any time he entered a room in his outfit. Together, they waltzed onto the float, hand in hand to be met with the cheers of the crowd.

Alec was true to his word, at least mostly. He waved and tossed candy to the crowd, but he was happy about it. He was having a blast. Yes, his wig was hot and his makeup was probably ruined at this point, but the energy was unparalleled. It wasn’t until he heard the whistles and catcalls that he felt a blush creep on his cheeks. He looked toward the crowd to see his group of friends going absolutely crazy. Izzy was jumping up and down, unable to contain her excitement. Maia and Clary were cheering loudly, Maia putting her fingers to her lips for an ear piercing whistle. Jace and Simon were laughing their asses off, both winking when Alec made eye contact. When the float stopped and the first chords chimed, Alec froze. It wasn’t until he felt the reassuring slide of Magnus’ arm around his waist that he snapped back into reality.

“Ladies and gentleman and everyone in between, welcome to New York Pride!” Magnus shouted, earning a flood of cheers throughout the crowd. Magnus had chosen Lady Marmalade for his performance song and his outfit was enough to have Alec drooling just at the sight. As nervous as he was to perform, the fact that it was Magnus beside him had him moving his lips along to the song. The cheers from his friends boosted his confidence as he strutted his stuff across the float, moving in sequence with Magnus. He dipped and spun and twirled Magnus on cue, both of their smiles lighting up the float just a little more. When the song ended, Magnus pressed his lips to Alec, neither caring about their makeup as they kissed fiercely for all to see. Alec pulled away at another wolf whistle from Maia, waving shyly at his friends. The float moved slowly towards the end, both him and Magnus jumped off only to be pummelled by hugs from the group.

“Holy shit, Alec. Who knew what a hot girl you’d make?” Jace said, twirling a strand of Alec’s blonde wig in his fingers. Alec shoved him away, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, but those heals! How are you doing that? They’re taller than mine?!” Izzy screamed, wrapping her arms around her brother’s waist. He held her back, lifting one foot up to take another look at them.

“Magnus makes me practice with him and apparently heels are a necessity?” Alec replied lamely, suddenly very aware of the outfit he was in. The silver sequined bra was sparkling in the sunlight, the corset around his waist was making it a bit hard to breath, and he couldn’t help but tug down the short skirt Magnus had somehow convinced him to wear. Magnus strutted over, wrapping his arms around Alec’s neck and kissing him once more. The group took pictures of the two of them and Alec made a mental note to destroy them all later.

“Happy Pride, Alexander,” Magnus whispered, glancing around at all of the beautiful people surrounding them. Alec sighed, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ head. He never thought he’d be this comfortable in his own skin. Magnus had shown him that he could be exactly who he wanted to be and more and he was grateful for his husband every day.

“Happy Pride, Magnus.”

I owe my life to @schmicosmalec for dropping everything today to beta this for me. You’re the best parabatai a girl could ask for.

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jeusev · 5 years ago

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h-hewwo it’s my dragon age oc, his name is Tarenan. He is an ancient elf who went into uthenera after the fall of Arlathan. He fought with the rebeliion along with Solas ;w; im up for RP/HCs! also english is not my first language so please excuse my grammar / vocabulary errors dshsdhhsdh

Tarenan

Taren : Mind

Nan : Revenge

Renan : Voice

Taren was born in Arlathan, to healer parents, servants of Elgar’Nan. He was born conveniently attractive, wrapped in smooth, fair skin. Silky jade coloured hair draped along his shoulders gracefully, he was fit, slender built with average height. The glint of his emerald orbs were mesmerizing. He was unblemished.

However, alas, it was like the universe was trying to nerf him, Tarenan was lacking the ability to wield magic, much to his dismay. Taren had 2 older brothers, so naturally, his parents did not really mind his “defect”, however the elvhen did not took it so kindly. Slithering whispers on his back whenever he went was inevitable, and it always riled him up. The discrimination and the pity stares he received shaped him into an ambitious, prove-thirst chaotic individual. He was notorious, he’d pick a fight whenever one of his peers started to pity his inability to use magic. “I’m still better than you even if i could not wield magic.” Taren would always find a way to prove that he was indeed better than everyone, and easily enough, he realized violence solves the problem. Taren did not really care about his academic achievements, for he saw the best on academic matters would probably ended up working in the grand library doing monotone research anyways. Boring.

So he trained, ceaselessly, with a goal in mind to become Elgar’nan’s elite warriors, so no one could ever belittle him anymore. If someone without magic like him can join the elites, then who are you to belittle him, right ? Taren was not gifted in terms of strength and muscles, but his assessment were always on point. Thus, he realized something crucial – The ancient elves... DID mind about their gracefulness when they fight. They thought so highly about having to look good even when you’re about to bathe in someone else’s blood, which is… bullshit, if Taren must say. So Taren took advantage of that, and developed his own fighting style. It was definitely.... beastly, wild, its “ugly” ; according to everyone. But he won. Mostly. Him, against elves with magic.

Ultimately, his notorious achievement reached on Elgar’Nan’s ears, and so he was recruited and joined the legion. Even though Taren was still a rookie, he worked harder than most, and showed an indomitable determination. As a gift, Taren was given a chance to receive a “lyrium marking”, which enables those so called “defected” elves to use magic. Sometimes Elgar’nan would send his troops to the dwarven underground for the lyrium, and only the maker knows what Elgar’nan would do to those lyrium. (x) (I suspect the Tevinter / Fenris’s lyrium markings was a technique derived from the elvhen) Taren was delighted, and after a series of excruciating experiments, it finally happened.

Strange markings appeared all over his body. Levitation was the first thing he tried to master, he was able to phase through objects, and then shapeshift, though it requires extreme concentration to be able to keep up the transformation for a long time, and ultimately, Taren were totally unbeatable in the battlefield. He soared the sky, killed Elgar’nan’s enemies as much as he could, hoisted Elgar’nan’s flag on every landmark he could see, all he did to show his loyalty to Elgar’nan. To spat, on those who underestimate him. Pride and arrogance filled his heart, it blinded him to the bitter truth he chose to ignore. Then, Taren became an arcane warrior, one of Elgar’Nan’s elite bodyguard, appointed exclusively by Elgar’Nan himself. Tarenan did not possess the tall and bulky body like other warriors. In fact, he was probably one of the smallest elite bodyguard Elgar’nan ever had. It becomes an advantage though. People unfamiliar to him would underestimate his physique. Little did they know, Tarenan was one of Elgar’nan prized champions. Taren was deadly and impeccable. Strong, boisterous, never wavering. Naturally, having such title comes with great burden and responsibilities too. As a champion, it was one of his duty to do Elgar’nan’s dirty work. Taren understands, and he tremendously enjoyed the title bestowed upon him.

Until one day, he found a baby. Crying. Under the bed, where her supposedly parents killed by Taren. Taren had killed widows, whores, rebel teenagers, concubines, men with families, soldiers, but not…. A baby… When Taren picked her up, her crying stopped. She stared at Taren, wide eyed, curious. Using the last of his conscience, Taren decided that it was.. better that she was brought back, rather than killed. She could become a nurse, or farmer.. and so he jumped from the window, flew to the horizon, with a baby slept soundly on his arms.

It was NEVER on his thought, to actually have a kid. He did had meaningless dangles obviously, but a family ? To become a father ? Never. But there he stood, changing her diaper. The baby started to cry whenever Taren was not around, and she looked like she was the most comfy baby when sleeping on Taren’s arms. In the end Taren decided that she will be his responsibility, because she threw the biggest tantrum when she was handled with the midwives and milk mothers, and Taren did not trust those lame ladies anyways. They treat babies as if they’re fragile creatures, must be protected at all costs. For Taren, babies had to be taught the cruel world from early ages. Let them fall when they learn to walk, so that they will understand pain and refrain from doing the same mistakes again. Besides, the baby seemed to like being handled with Taren. It cried when the midwives put her in frilly dresses, she seemed to grow fond of the lame, comfy baby onesie Taren picked for her. She giggled cheerfully when Taren threw her up on the air, and snorted adorably when she was being carried upside down by him.

Taren the savage arcane warrior ? The beast who always wore armor and kept his wings visible all the time ?

It was a surprise, really. So Taren could not really blame them, he did not believe it at first either. People were worried about the girl’s future, about how Taren would accidentally sit on her or drop her. Or stab her with that stupid claw armor he wore all the time. Little did they know, Taren was actually a great father, and he loved his daughter, dearly, as a father should. Gold ain’t always golden, and he named her Minaya.

Minaya grew into a sensible, gentle woman in nature. She was his pride, she was Taren’s 80% impulse control. Taren used to teach her everything, now she taught Taren about compassion, to let go of all the hate and hatred Taren kept, to find his own happiness in the harsh world they live in. It changed how Taren saw the world. Every path Taren took, he calculated how it’d affect Minaya in some ways, he realized how his path were always against what Minaya had taught him. Finally Taren was forced to acknowledge all his past misdeeds. He realized how filthy he was by doing Elgar’nan’s dirty works. He realized how despicable the lies Elgar’nan preached to comfort the soldiers when the poor souls were about to be deployed to an unjust war. He was furious at the evanuris. He was angry at how Elgar'nan’s pride could cost innocent lives, gallons of blood spilled for unworthy cause. He was enraged, for the pride he sought turned out was an illusion. Sweet lies Elgar'nan whispered on his ears, glorifying what was horrible. Exasperated, because the most guilty had the cleanest hands.

When he came back from the battlefield, the pain changed him.

Taren could not just escaped and ran away from Elgar’nan, he could not just joined the other “better” evanuris. He could not defy Elgar’nan, he could not risked Minaya. Elgar’nan was merciless, he was utterly cruel to those who oppose him. He was called a “god” for a reason. Taren was helpless against his fate.

Minaya, of course, realized it. Taren’s pain was her own, she was always there for him during Taren’s difficult times. She gave him a reason to keep thriving for a better future, to keep the fuel burning. She turned his pain into wisdom, helplessness into fortitude. His daughter was the only light in his dark path that kept him away from being astray.

Just when Taren thought about starting over, to do things right - Mythal was killed. It was a catastrophe, the world was on fire. The sounds of the blacksmith forging metals filled the sky, soldiers kept marching day and night, the whispers of prayers were heard everywhere Taren goes. Taren had to accompany Elgar’nan, and left Minaya to her own. She was already a healer at this point and she’d be safe at the shelter, while tending those who were injured. If he kept Elgar’nan close, then Taren would knew what was his enemy up to, right ? Because Taren knew, the death of Mythal was one of many Elgar’nan’s shenanigans all along. Because Taren, was indeed, involved in some ways. Elgar’nan overthrew his own father, what made people think that he would not overthrow his own wife too ?

Mythal was justice, she cared about her people. Taren never saw Mythal soldiers being sent to an unjust war, when she waged a war it was because of a good cause. Never for her pride. Taren secretly respected her, and Mythal’s right hand too. Solas. War after war raged on, it was pointless. It never ends. Until finally Taren found out that the dread wolf led a rebellion army against the Elven gods. Taren always played the obedient pet role to Elgar’nan, so naturally, it would never occur to Elgar’nan that Taren would betray him. And so he did.

Taren joined the rebellion army, along with Minaya. He wanted a redemption, a chance to regain his dignity back after all he had done. His vallaslin was removed by Solas, for Elgar’nan was no longer his master. The path he took now was even more bloody and jaggy, but it also gave him freedom; a privilege to choose his own actions. It felt right.

Minaya married one of the healers she worked along with. He was a great, honorable man. Taren cried during the ceremony, the joy he felt was overflowing from his chest. She told Taren to not worry about her anymore, and that he should focus on his dreams, on things that made him happy. So Taren did. He worked along with Solas, they gave the freed slave sanctuary from their tyrannical masters. His people defended the valley in which the sanctuary sat, and he protected them all. Many joined him in his fight for freedom from the gods. (x)

The war did not stop though, and at this point Taren and Solas knew that the evanuris would eventually destroy the world, because their lust for power was insatiable. Taren spent most of his life serving under Elgar’nan, he knew what the gods were capable of. So Solas came up with a solution, and he needed Taren’s help to achieve it. The price for it was tremendously huge, but Taren agreed because it was necessary.

Kill hundreds to save thousands. It was judicious.

Eventually Solas sealed the elvhen gods within the veil, and for that Taren was utterly grateful, but he also felt intense despair and guilt as he watched the fall of Arlathan. His pain was so great, even Minaya could not made it better. She watched him cried all his tears. Taren succumbed into his depression, his life was now devoid of emotions, it extinguished the fire ignited within him.

So he went to uthenera afterwards, and slept for eternity.

Only to be awoken from his long slumber after the Inquisition disbanded. Confused and not knowing whatever happened to his world, he started his journey to relearn his new world, and to find out what happened to his daughter.

---

ps. Minaya is my Lavellan’s ancestor

#dragonageoc #dragon age #ancient elvhen #elgar'nan #original character #oc #dai #dragon age inquisition

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haloud · 5 years ago

Text

the stumbling phase of the midnight waltz

ao3

Alex makes one stop before he hits 285 and leaves town for a few days in Albuquerque with his old unit. Liz meets him at the Crashdown’s back door, but she doesn’t hold out her hand for the key he’s trying to give her.

“Does he know you’re giving me this?” She asks, arms folded, gaze levelled at the cracked rubber of the old UFO Emporium keychain instead of anywhere near Alex’s face.

“Life is too uncertain; we’re big on emergency contacts these days. Kyle won’t be back from his conference until after I get back. Turns out he’d rather it be you than Max or Isobel. All he said when I asked was ‘she gets it better.’” Alex shrugs. “I trust you, too. I didn’t press him.”

Liz lets him hand her the key and shoves it quickly into the pocket of her robe. This isn’t a responsibility she ever expected, not an honor she ever thought to receive. After the way Michael reacted when circumstances forced them together into his lab, she had mostly expected—made her contingency plans—for Isobel to encourage her to forget what she saw. And the temptation is there—to make copies of the key; to sneak in when she knows it’s empty; to break all sorts of trusts to scratch the what if at the back of her mind. What if there’s some secret hiding away to help Rosa? To help Mimi? To protect her father?

A couple miles away and a hundred feet underground, Michael thinks in what ifs too. Alex and Kyle are right to want someone to have the ability to check in. Project Shepherd may have been an illicit operation, but operatives could still be out there. Employees from Caulfield looking for revenge. Other aliens like Noah. What if Liz can’t be trusted after all? He’ll change the locks, of course, once Alex and Kyle come home. Whatever damage she can do in the interim they’ll have to deal with one-on-one.

He’s almost looking forward to it. Secrets and science both, Michael thinks that Liz Ortecho just might be his best match.

Day one, Michael doesn’t even notice the bulk of it pass. It’s stuffy and hot like a forge in his underground lab because one of his fans got busted. The heat should be unbearable. He already wasted half the day moving temperature-sensitive items to his much-less-secure trailer, so he should be worn to the bone with anxiety. But mostly he’s just glad to have something to do with his hands, something to do with his brain. He strips off his sweat-soaked white shirt, knots his hair on top of his head, sets his tongue between his teeth, and gets to work.

It’s an okay day, all things considered. He straddles his stepladder to get at the right angle to reach the back panel, and with a few awkwardly-angled cranks of his wrench, the fan comes back online with a crunch. He falls back against the wall and lets out a whoop of relief as stale but moving air teases the tiny curls that have escaped from his bun to cling to his neck. Satisfied, he grabs his phone from the nearby worktable and snaps a few selfies. Himself, flush with triumph and the haloed halogens of his bunker, smudged with grease and his own honest sweat, his hand sliding suggestively through the trail of hair on his abdomen.

Neither Alex nor Kyle respond, and when Michael pulls himself out of his hole in the ground to look for a shower, the sun hasn’t even finished setting.

Alex could be driving if he and the guys decided to have a night out, Michael thinks while he soaps himself up mechanically. Or at a restaurant, a bar, somewhere where he wouldn’t be looking at his phone. Kyle is definitely busy, definitely surrounded by people he wants to impress. It was stupid to even send the pictures in the first place. Michael ducks his head under the spray and turns it straight to cold and doesn’t step out until his knees start to shake.

Bare-skinned and shivering in the chilly night air, he wraps his arms around himself, but he just stands staring at the wide, soft bed the three of them share. Using the shower or the kitchen as a tool is one thing, but the bed, the couches, all the spaces where life takes place—it feels like Alex’s first, then Kyle’s history, something they share together. Without either of them there it doesn’t feel right.

Fighting down the anxiety beating wings against his ribs, he wrestles into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and stalks outside, across the ground to where his Airstream stays parked almost all the time, these days.

The moment his back hits the bunk, he knows he’s made a mistake. It would feel a little like grief, a little like loneliness, to wrap himself up in a duvet meant for three and try not to scream into the silence. But here, in the one place that’s been something like a home to him, he can’t breathe at all. No one echoes off these walls but him. He knows with the heart-attack certainty of himself a half-decade past that if he closes his eyes he’s gonna wake to an American flag and a hole in the ground.

He scrambles out of bed, bruises his knees on the metal sheet floor. He spends the night sleepless in a corner of the lab.

Day two, Michael gets a dozen or so texts, a half-dozen unanswered calls. Not that he’d know; he left his phone under the bed, so the weight of silence didn’t hit so heavy. He takes Isobel out for lunch because if she sees him she won’t freak out if he doesn’t answer his phone all day.

Kyle rolls his eyes every time he’s sent to voicemail and decides not to worry. It’s not unusual for Michael to bury himself in the lab, and it only makes sense that he’d be even worse about it with no one to keep tabs on him. Everything will probably be fine.

Alex almost hits the city limits before he takes a deep breath and decides to turn back around. Someone would have called him if there was trouble; Michael would be mortified if Alex burst in like the world was ending just because he forgot to check his messages. He’d blame himself for “ruining” Alex’s vacation.

Everything will be okay.

The knock comes first, then the key scrapes in the lock at three a.m. on the third night. The numbers and diagrams have just started swimming off the page.

“Don’t be dead, Michael,” Liz calls down. “One undead alien per town is definitely more than enough.”

The smell of fresh fries and boozy milkshakes precedes her down the ladder. Her eyelids look as dark and heavy as Michael’s feel. He drops his pen and goes over to take the drinks from her before she falls and breaks her neck and finally gives Max a reason to take him out.

“What are you doing here, Ortecho?”

She snags her shake back from him and takes three long gulps before she answers. “Electricians kicked me out at the hospital, and I didn’t have anything delicate enough in progress to give me an excuse to stay. I figured I’d find you here. If I have to take a break then so do you.”

“Says who?” Michael says, already digging in to the fries and flying sauce. Turns out it’s probably been even longer since he’s eaten than it’s been since he slept.

“Says Earth rules, obviously.” She wobbles a little big, and Michael shuffles over to clear a spot where she can sit.

“Oh, Earth rules. My bad. The ‘mad science’ pages were missing from my orientation packet.”

“Damn. They just can’t get anything right these days, huh?”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They knock their Styrofoam cups together, and Michael says a silent toast to understanding.

Liz is a good friend—or the kind of person who tries to be, which is just about the closest thing Michael has ever had to the real thing, and more reliable to boot. Isobel is always, incontrovertibly, Isobel; Max is something else entirely. He and Maria, they were a mistake made twice over, and it makes it hard for them to share a space these days, but there will always be an understanding there between them that once made them think they’d be good. Michael has a support system now, after all those years alone. He has his people, people who care about him.

Alex hasn’t even been gone a week, and none of it is enough. He’s got feet crawling under his skin; he’s got the shakes like an addict, and Michael knows from addiction. More desperate than he’d been that first night, he roots around in their bed for a little hair of the dog, but no amount of secondhand scent will ever be a strong enough hit. He stretches out one of Kyle’s tight henleys and curls up like a dog in front of the empty fire with only Alex’s leather jacket as a blanket. Sleep never comes, or it comes in bare, panicked snatches. There’s nothing to dull the scratching in his skull, not the booze, not the acetone, not the grasping hands of a stranger.

There’s just him, and he’s less than nothing in the yawning face of loneliness. Always has been.

Is the specter of pride enough? Kyle’s uncomplicated, unselfconscious excitement for the progress Michael has made? And Alex—Alex is so steady, so strong, Michael can still feel him all around him, and it should be, should be—

But Michael has never been good on his own. Never been good enough at ignoring all the clamor and chaos in his head, the whispers that they’re never coming back, that Alex’s unit could be compromised, that Kyle’s all alone in a crowd and it’s not safe, that without Michael there to stand at heel they could get hurt in so many stupid, accidental ways.

Michael whines and grinds his face into the rug. The muscles of his back twist and twitch as he tries to flex out the tension pulling him apart. He could call Alex. Wrap himself up in his warm, vital voice, in the sound of his breathing. It would be a few moments of relief. But Alex deserves better. He deserves to be able to take a few days to meet up with people so important to him without worrying that Michael will hurt himself or piss on the floor.

He’s not even sure what day it is. He’s been afraid to look at his phone, afraid to see that less time has passed than it should, afraid he’ll be weak and have Alex ringing on the other line before he can stop himself.

For most of his life, Michael has been a staple at the Roswell branch library, a tourist in every section and a local in some. Science fiction, of course, and physics, astrophysics, and psychology. He found himself in books, tried for a while to therapize himself when there was no one else who could or no one else who cared. Codependency, trauma, abandonment, avoidance, he has the words for the things raking at his insides, but no way to make it stop.

His burning mind gives out just as the sun comes up, and he falls asleep with his arms covering his head.

It could be the fourth day; it could be the fifth. Michael thinks counting would be pathetic. He wraps himself in a heavy old quilt and sits in the weak morning sun, searching for peace. His hands ache for the weight and feel of silken smooth wood; his mind aches for the quiet. But that phantom pain is too old now to inspire any self-pity.

He folds one hand over his heart. Clutched in its palm is a battered black-and-red pick, one its owner never noticed was missing from its stolen case. Over the last decade, he never buried it with the other memories that hurt too much. He wore it over his heart instead, like dog tags. It centers him now, like it has before, when it was less than a splinter of hope that he’d ever get to have what he has now.

Alex will be home in a few days. He can make it that far.

He’s made it longer and longer before, after all.

On the sixth day, a car pulls up to the cabin. The day is dark gray; it’s probably morning still, but Michael’s internal clock wishes he could crawl back into bed. It’s quiet; the car’s approach barely pricks at the edge of Michael’s hypervigilant hearing. It drops dread into his stomach; he doesn’t feel like dealing with Max or Isobel today. Doesn’t feel like much of anything, really. He feels how he thinks being sick must feel, and he’s so sapped of energy that standing barefoot in the kitchen eating dry cereal is a Herculean effort.

The footsteps on the stairs make an uneven beat, but they’re firm and steady. There’s a jingle of keys, then the catch of the lock, and

And Michael can’t breathe, he sways forward and only just catches himself with a hand on the counter, flinging his bowl into the sink so he can wrap the other arm around his middle, and

“Guerin?” Alex call into the cabin, his voice light and warm and happy to be be home and oh god

Michael’s mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. He clutches at himself; he rubs his hands over his own arms like he can prepare his touch-starved skin for someone else’s touch. He gulps down enough oxygen to feed his brain. He turns on the water to hide the sound. He composes himself before Alex follows it to him.

“There you are,” Alex says from the doorway. There’s a smile in his voice; his footsteps are eager as he crosses the room. He leans his hip against the cabinet and bends in to look at Michael’s face through the curtain of his hair. He’s not smiling now. That little line has appeared between his brows. His arms are folded, and his thumb runs back and forth in the crook of his own elbow. Michael grits his teeth, ducks his head, and his knuckles go white on the countertop.

Even so, his voice comes out gruff but normal sounding when he says, “You’re back early. Everything all right?”

“Mm, yeah. Fisher had some sort of emergency and a few of the others took it as an excuse to break early. Reconnecting with the guys is important, but it’s not easy for everyone, you know?”

“Fisher ok?”

“Oh yeah, it was just his…ferret, or his car or something, and—Look, Guerin, look at me.”

The small part of Michael that likes the hurt because it’s familiar holds him still, waits for the kick. What he gets instead is Alex speaking again, impossibly soft, “May I touch you?” A single, jerky nod, and then the pad of his thumb touches the sharpest part of Michael’s jaw. His palm follows it, a broad, gentle stroke against the side of Michael’s face that sets him shaking, all of him, lips and hands and knees.

Like he can’t help himself, like it’s all he’s ever wanted, like it’s basest instinct, Alex’s other hand mirrors the first, cupping all of Michael’s mind between them, gentling him and pulling him forward so their foreheads press together.

“I missed you,” Alex says. Their breaths mingle together, and it’s enough to keep Michael’s lungs working.

“Oh yeah? That sucks. I barely even noticed you were gone,” Michael pants. Alex’s shaky laugh is everything, so he leans in and devours it, bites at his mouth, sucks at his tongue. Alex lets him work, eggs him on with gasps and groans and fingertips teasing the aching roots of Michael’s hair.

Finally, after Michael’s kisses have gone all sloppy and slow, Alex pulls him back and holds him still and says, “Are you ready for me to tell you what you need?”

God yes. Please. The words alone are almost enough to get Michael floating.

Alex grips the scruff of Michael’s neck heavy and Michael keens soft and whiny and pathetic, choking on air and desperation. It’s not enough, this single point of contact; he wants to be collared, full-body, and kept, and owned. Leashed so Alex always knows where to find him, even if some deep-down instinct tells him to go chasing. Tagged so any goddamn stranger who picks him up knows he’s not for them.

“You’ve been neglected this past week, haven’t you, Guerin?” Alex asks, low and dangerous against the shell of his ear. Michael tries to shake his head—tell him no, no, it’s not possible, it’s all okay now that Alex is here—but Alex is holding him too tight for him to get any traction.

Alex grips him tighter, and his trembling thighs give out.

“You look good down there, but that’s not what I had in mind for you today. And I had a long time driving back to think of how I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Anything. Anything you want, that’s all, I don’t care—”

“Shh, I know. I know. You’re so good to me, Michael. And because you’re so good, here’s how it’s going to be: you’re going to let yourself come, and I’m not going to stop until I think you’ve had enough. That’s how I’m taking care of you tonight—making you feel so good it hurts.”

Giddy fear chases boneless surrender through Michael’s blood—a familiar emotional cocktail Alex inspires in him. Nothing hurts, and it tastes better than acetone at the back of his throat.

He sways forward—almost faceplants into Alex’s crotch, but sure hands divert him to the side and press his face into the hollow of Alex’s hip. The scent there is heady and addictive. Michael’s eyes flutter shut; saliva pools beneath his tongue.

“You get to pick how you want it first and last. What do you want?” Alex says, re-settling his hands firmly on Michael’s shoulders.

There’s only one real answer. Michael pulls back just enough to look Alex in the eye, though it makes his body cry out to be back curled against the warmth of Alex’s thighs. Holding that safe, dark gaze, Michael grinds the heel of his hand into the flannel-covered bulge of his cock and drop open his bruised-red mouth.

Alex grins at his reaction, satisfied, knowing. He presses his thumb to Michael’s tongue; the eager muscles at the back of his throat work to swallow around nothing at all.

“I thought that might be your choice,” he says, “But first, undress us both. I want to feel you—all of you.”

Michael presses a grateful, worshipful kiss to the inside of Alex’s wrist, tasting the delicate skin there with just the tip of his tongue, before standing up. How does Alex always just know? Michael needs skin on skin tonight; needs to find a heartbeat wherever his hands land without having to search it out through layers of protection. Skin on skin will also make this go much faster; Michael is too raw, too needy for anything else, and his sensitivity will turn painful that much quicker as well. But it’s worth the cost to feel real again.

Michael’s own clothes are disposed of quickly, his pajama pants stripped and launched telekinetically across the room. With Alex, though, he takes his time, and Alex takes his time with him. Michael smooths his palms across the cotton-covered planes of Alex’s chest; he rolls the shirt up slowly and bends to kiss and nuzzle at each new inch of skin revealed. In return, Alex feeds him his fingers one by one, letting him stretch his jaw and taste his fill. Michael traces Alex’s belt buckle with his fingertip; he fumbles a bit at the clasp when the smell of new leather fills his senses. He unties Alex’s laces and sits obediently as he steps out of his shoes. Alex rewards him with a long tease of a kiss.

The sound of Alex’s zipper is thunderous in the quiet room. Michael almost misses the challenge of peeling him out of those tight-tight jeans he used to wear, but this is good too, the looser fit letting Michael keep all his movements dreamy and slow. Next, he rolls off Alex’s underwear, finally revealing his cock—hard and just starting to bead wet at the tip and Michael licks his suddenly dry lips. But he’s good; he won’t lean in and drink his fill until he’s given permission.

“Excellent, Guerin; you did so well,” Alex says against his lips. Michael moans weakly at the touch, at the praise. It’s hard to walk as Alex leads him to the bedroom, where Michael kneels beside the bed as Alex follows the methodical steps to care for his leg. Then finally, finally, Alex spreads his thighs and welcomes Michael in between them.

There’s a reason this is one of Michael’s favorite things, and it’s this: with Alex’s hands in his hair, his head settled in the cradle of Alex’s hips, the whole world melts away. There’s no sound from outside the window; there’s no exposure in the back of his mind waiting to jump at new hands on his back. The whole world is right here, in the barest rhythmic flex of Alex’s hips, in Michael’s own sounds of pleasure. There’s only one taste, only one scent, and it’s heaven.

Alex indulges him for a while, long enough to build up a friction-heat in his soft palate and coat his chin with drool. “This is about you,” he says, “So you can come as many times as you want. But you can’t make me come just yet.”

Michael whines in disappointment but doesn’t protest. Alex always gives him what he needs. He feeds his dick back into Michael’s throat and lets it rest there until Michael brings himself to his first orgasm of the night. In the aftershocks, Alex pulls him in close and whispers love against his skin. Michael drifts in the waking sleep of Alex taking care of him. Here, he can be as small and safe as he needs, feeding the trust that’s always been there between them and has at last been watered and brought to light until it’s big enough to hold them both.

The day goes on, nothing but the two of them and their bodies twined together. For Michael’s second orgasm, Alex takes him hard while Michael clings to the headboard and arches all the way off the bed, begging in snatches of a half-dozen languages he only learned so he could be filthy. Third, he keeps himself still, keeps himself good, lying there and taking it as Alex sucks him down and past the point of raw pain.

“I want one more out of you,” Alex says afterward, rubbing soothing circles into Michael’s chest. It’s too much, it’s going to be too much, but Michael’s toes still curl and he’d be purring if it was possible. If Alex says he can do it, he can do it.

So Michael goes onto his belly with his knees beneath him, ass lifted and presenting as Alex fucks him like something precious. Michael’s eyes blur with tears; his head is swimmy and light. Everything aches; everything in him feels like new, like being Alex’s again.

He sleeps for a while. Heavy and good. Alex stays beside him the whole time and gets through a solid few chapters of a book he’s been meaning to read, until his own eyelids grow heavy and he succumbs to the living temptation that is Michael Guerin warming his bed.

They have things to talk about tomorrow. No matter how much it’s wanted, needed, or deserved, it’s too hard for them to be apart after everything they’ve put themselves and each other through. One day this codependency will become a far uglier thing.

But those are thoughts for tomorrow, and healable ones. Right now, he finds himself falling asleep next to Michael made fucked-out and fluid, and there aren’t any other thoughts that matter.

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #content warnings:#descriptions of addiction and withdrawal (though no character actively experiences withrdrawal or substance use)#fear of abandonment #codependent behavior #and just a general warning for michael's mental state tbh he's in pretty bad shape but he gets better #kyle is only mentioned in this fic; it's still a part of my mylex series but if mylex isn't your thing you can still read and enjoy it #please let me know if anything else needs to be tagged

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bleachlists · 7 years ago

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How the captains would react (if their lieutenants quit)

As requested by anon. :)

Previously on Bleach Lists, we considered what would happen if the captains fired their lieutenants. But what if the lieutenants…quit? How would the captains react then?

1. Squad 13

Rukia: Captain, I can no longer be your lieutenant.

Ukitake: I understand.

Ukitake: You need to go to the world of the living, where you belong.

Ukitake: I was there, you know, when you trained Orihime Inoue.

Ukitake: I know she is your true love.

Ukitake: Go to her, Kuchiki, go to her!!

Rukia: …

Rukia: So, uh, I got offered a captainship…

Ukitake: …

Ukitake: Can we go back like ten seconds?

Rukia: How long have you been shipping us??

2. Squad 2

Omaeda: Uh, Captain, you know how my sister got hurt during the Quincy invasion?

Soi Fon: Yes. I recall.

Omaeda: It, uh, kinda makes you think, you know? About what’s important?

Soi Fon: I do not need to hear your personal journey, Omaeda.

Soi Fon: If you have decided to actually commit yourself to this squad, then do it. Otherwise, I don’t care.

Omaeda: What if it made me want to quit?

Soi Fon: Then I would kill you. Nobody quits Squad 2 alive.

Soi Fon: So do you have something to say?

Omaeda: No?

Soi Fon: ….

Soi Fon: So close.

3. Squad 3

Kira: Captain Otoribashi, I will be leaving your squad at the end of this week.

Rose: Izuru, why??

Kira: I am an undead zombie monstrosity with a permanent hole through my torso, and the underlings weep when they look at me.

Rose: Only for the first couple of days!

Rose: And I still say, if you let me decorate your horrible torso rods with brightly colored flags…

Kira: …

Rose: Right. Maybe you’ve earned a break.

4. Squad 12

Nemu: Captain, I would like to quit.

Kurotsuchi: Nobody cares what you want, you dolt. Now drink your poison.

Nemu: …

Nemu: Maybe this is why Nanao says we need a union.

5. Squad 5

Hinamori: Captain, I have decided to quit the Gotei-13.

Shinji: Very funny, you idiot.

Shinji: Make jokes like that, and you might end up in the Maggot’s Nest, which is occasionally canon!

Hinamori: I’m not joking, Captain.

Shinji: You’re not?

Shinji: Man, I have the worst luck with lieutenants.

Hinamori: DID YOU JUST COMPARE ME TO AIZEN?!

6. Squad 10

Matsumoto: Captain, I quit!

Hitsugaya: I do not accept.

Matsumoto: What? You can’t just not accept my resignation, Captain!

Hitsugaya: Yes, I can.

Hitsugaya: I don’t accept it.

Hitsugaya: You know, you could just ask for time off if there is a big sale in the human world or something!

Matsumoto: You’d give me time off for shopping??

Hitsugaya: NO

Matsumoto: See? Maybe this is why I want to quit!

Hitsugaya: JUST DO YOUR PAPERWORK

7. Squad 11

Yachiru: Ken-chan, I’m not gonna be a lieutenant anymore!

Kenpachi: Yeah?

Kenpachi: Okay.

Kenpachi: What are we going to do now, then?

Kenpachi: Look for stronger people to fight?

Yachiru: Sure!

Kenpachi: Sounds about right, for us.

8. Squad 4

Isane: Um, Captain Unohana?

Isane: I, uh, need to talk to you about something. I’ve….decided to quit the Gotei-13.

Unohana: Is that so, Isane?

Unohana: I understand.

Unohana: It is time for your murder phase. I had long seen it coming.

Isane: N-not everyone has a murder phase, Captain!

Unohana: Don’t be embarrassed, Isane. It is part of growing up.

Isane: C-Captain!

9. Squad 9 (Mashiro)

Mashiro: Kensei, I QUIT!

Kensei: You don’t even know what that means, idiot.

Mashiro: Yes I do!!!! It means I’m done following you!!!

Kensei: Whatever happened to “a lieutenant always followers her captain”??

Mashiro: That’s why I’m quitting!

Kensei: FINE

Mashiro: FINE

Kensei: THANK GOODNESS I WON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOU

Mashiro: LIKE YOU CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT ME

Hisagi: It’s like watching your parents divorce.

10. Squad 9 (Hisagi)

Hisagi: …and that is why, Captain, I need to leave your command.

Kensei: Shuhei, don’t be an idiot.

Kensei: You have our squad number TATTOOED ON YOUR FACE

Kensei: What are you gonna do, porn??

Hisagi: Well…

Kensei: NO SHUHEI

11. Squad 1

Sasakibe: Head Captain, I am afraid I must tender my resignation.

Yamamoto: Are you…are you SERIOUS?!

Yamamoto: I tried to promote you like 1000 times!

Sasakibe: I-I couldn’t take a promotion, Head Captain! It would have felt disloyal!

Yamamoto: But quitting isn’t?!

Sasakibe: …

Sasakibe: I’m a complicated guy.

12. Squad 8

Nanao: Captain, this is my three week’s notice.

Kyoraku: Notice until what?

Nanao: Until I will be quitting.

Kyoraku: Q-quitting, Nanao-chan??

Kyoraku: Please don’t quit, my lovely beautiful lieutenant flower!

Kyoraku: Is this because I drink too much? Because of all the naps? Because I accidentally used your report as a coaster?

Nanao: You did WHAT to my report?

Kyoraku: See? How will I survive without that cruel, harsh look, Nanao-chan?

Nanao: …it’s going to be a long three weeks.

13. Squad 6

Renji: Captain, I am quitting!

Byakuya: Renji, you should leave the jokes to me.

Renji: This is not a joke, Captain. I am quitting.

Byakuya: You cannot quit, Renji. This is the Gotei-13.

Renji: Y-your last lieutenant quit!

Byakuya: He had a very good reason.

Renji: He opened a sunglasses shop!

Byakuya: Are you suggested that sunglasses are not a good reason? Are you, Renji?

Renji: …

Renji: This went very differently in my head.

14. Squad 9

Iba: Captain, I need to speak with you!

Iba: I want you to know, Captain, that being your lieutenant has been fantastic.

Iba: I grew as a soldier and as a person.

Iba: Your courage and honestly and loyalty always inspired me!

Iba: And I could not have served a better man!

Iba: But I can no longer be your lieutenant.

Puppy Komamura: Wuff?

Iba: …

Iba: I think you need a friend, instead.

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catlover7722 · 4 years ago

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Mondo Owada x OC: Differences

(I just got into Danganronpa recently and over all Mando has been my favorite character! I’m on Wattpad if you want to know more about my character, she’s in my Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc Rp book. Also feel free to message me if you want to Rp as well! I preferred if you did over Wattpad but on here is fine too! Also no spoilers, I have not watched any of the anime’s and I have not played V3 yet!!)

Italic is background stuff (feel free to skip over! I won’t mind!)

All character in this are 18+

Trigger Warnings!: Cussing, Angst, Major Character death, killing, talk about past neglectful/mental abusive home life, and a bit of suggestive conversation

SPOILERS ARE GONNA BE IN THIS! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Hayami POV

Okay, today couldn’t get any worst. All I remember is my past and getting accepted into Hopes Peak Academy where every has a skill that makes them the best of the best. I am one of those students. I am known as the Ultimate Girlfriend, but of course that not my actual ultimate because no one needs to know what it really is. No one know beside me, not even him. Mondo Owada, a very angry yet respectful guy, was my childhood best friend and still is my best friend. He did not know because he’d just pity me about it.

I guess you all don’t know me that well so I guess I will tell you, if you even care. My name is Hayami Ahma, I was conveniently born on June 10th the day after Mondo’s at the very same hospital. You could say it was fate that we would have a perfect childhood together playing in the front yard but you’d be completely and utterly wrong. My parents never cared about me, just drugs and getting high every single night since I was three. I ran away multiple times when I was four after being taken away, taking hours to get to Mondo’s childhood home to see him, of course his parents would freak the fuck out but I didn’t care.

Social Workers would just come back and get me knowing exactly where I was. I stayed in a foster home with two foster mothers who loved all their foster children. They tried multiple times to adopt me but they were denied each time then they sent me to another home closer to Mondo’s house. These foster parents would call me weak, ugly, and unlovable. I heard that for five years until enough was enough and ran away when I was fifteen years old to his home. Around this time, Daiya was an adult and had a arrangement with them that I’d stay with them. That was the best day in my entire life.

Of course that didn’t last a long time, I started to date around freshman year to just feel love in a different way besides a family one. They all started to invite me to stay with them at their homes and I accept but I always stayed in touch with Mondo and his older brother. I often went to gang races and was flag girl once in a while. That when rumors started to go around with her and Mondo’s relationship being more than best friends. I definitely did like Mondo more than a best friend but I would never say that to him because of how close we were. I knew better to ruin this relationship.

Well one day, I got a late night call from him which worried me. I didn’t attend Daiya’s retirement ceremony because it was a three month anniversary day for me and a ultimate I was dating at the time. Mondo was sobbing and all I did was shot up from where I was sitting rushing to know what wrong. All Mondo told me was that Daiya was dead because Daiya got reckless in a race with Mondo. I immediately packed my things and moved back in with Mondo. I broke off the relationship I was in and focused on Mondo mental health with him. I just need him to be happy for Daiya and I.

During Junior year was gonna be a year I wanted him to thing about the future and his well being. I tried, like really tried, to help him confess to girls he liked. Of course, he got nervous and yelled at them. That bummed him out a lot and of course I had some fun ‘having chats’ with those girls. I maybe be short and petite looking but I work out with Mondo all the time. When you work out with him, it’s either go all out or get out. Then that’s when we got our letter from Hope Peak Academy. I was put down as my true Ultimate which made me hid my letter from him and anyone. That’s how we got here, how we got into this big mess.

*Couples hours later*

Mondo and I were in an empty classroom. I had to make sure he cooled off before we talked to anyone else. He just punched that Makoto kid into next year which was kinda dramatic on Mondo’s part. He paced back and forth cursing to himself as I sat there on the desk crossing my legs. He stopped and sighed “This is so fucking irratating! I don’t want to kill anyone!” He yelled. I nodded “I know, we don’t have to but we will have to worry about everyone around us too. I just trust you and only you until you give me a chance not to. I hope you can say that same thing for me” I said. Mondo sighed and puts his hand on his hips “Is that even a doubt? Of course I trust you. Both of us are in this together. We’ll get out together” he spoke. I slid off the desk and walked to the door “We play nice and get out of here without killing” I said and slid the door open “We both got a lot to fight for and more we need to do to get out of here” I added on then walked out. Mondo must’ve thought about it before catching up with me quickly.

*A couple day’s later*

I spent the night in Mondo’s room which wasn’t weird for us because we live in the same house and had sleepovers all the time so us in the same room wasn’t uncommon. Someone was pounding on the door when we woke up. Mondo woke up first annoyed that someone was knocking because I heard him groan. He was sleeping on the floor, that had a bunch of blankets on the ground so it was some what comfortable, next to the bed which is where I was sleeping, even though I told him I’d sleep on the floor because this was his room. Mondo got up and went to the door, I heard Taka voice boom through the room which make me jump awake. I looked over at the door to see Taka standing in the room almost petrified that I was there. I got up annoyed “What, Taka?” I asked. Taka tried to process everything “O-Oh I just was waking up for the Breakfast Meeting. Now I know why you didn’t answer your door! Do you both know this is unacceptable behavior?!” He yelled. Mondo sighed “Dude, we’re basically like siblings. We live in the same goddamn house” Mondo explained annoyed at him. I nodded “I need to get dressed. Excuse me” I said and pushed past them both going to my room to change into a new outfit so I could wash my other one.

After getting dressed, I got to the dining hall and sit down next to Celeste. Her and I have been hanging out a couple for times because Mondo was either annoying me or he was hanging out with Makoto, which was kinda weird but whatever. I listen to whatever we needed to talk about. We all finished breakfast and went are separate ways. I went to look around for Celeste totally forgetting where she said she’d be if I wanted to hang out for a game of card or something. I accidentally ran into Byakuya, he was way different then everyone there. He was arrogant, secretive, and just plain rude. He looked at me “You ran into me, how stupid can you be not to pick your head up?” He asked.

I looked at him kinda shocked he said that to me “Okay, well I was gonna say sorry but I don’t think you deserve that luxury Mr. The-Whole-World-Revolves-Around-Me. Talk to me like that again and I’ll knock your rich ass out” I said without hesitation then walked away. I could feel the angry in his eyes in the back of my head as I walked. I walked in the main hall and saw Celeste there. We sat down on the floor and she taught me how to play some non gambling games. She won every round we played but it was still fun. Night time came around and we all started to prepare for staying in our rooms. I was in the kitchen grabbing two apples for Mondo and I. I saw Sayaka come in then walk out which didn’t phase me. I was about to leave when a certain someone blocked my path

Byakuya was standing there against the door with his arms crossed “What are you doing?” He asked. I looked at him “Getting an apple for my friend and I. Do you care?” I asked sarcastically. He chuckled “Listen, I know your used to things going your way because of your talent but remember this. You’re nothing and will be nothing because your so insignificant. You will grow old, get uglier or fatter, and die alone with people who have no memory of you” he said to me with no hesitation. That hit very hard and close to home. I stood there then pushed him out of my way heading to Mondo’s room quickly and quietly. He was already in there sitting on a chair. He looked at me and got up.

I stood there shaking a little in anger. Mondo went to me quickly “You okay?” He asked worriedly. I stood there and nodded then sighed “Byakuya, he’s a jerk that’s all. Don’t worry about” I said calming down. I went towards the table but he grabbed my arm gently “What did he say? Don’t just shrug it off like you did back when you fiveteen. We both know your a bad faker” he said. I looked at Mondo in his eyes “I’m fine. I’m gonna stay in my room, lock your door” I said and takes his hand off my arm. He looked down at me and grabbed my free hand.

I looked up at him and he holds my hand tightly “Hayami I-I ne-“ he started to say then the announcement for nighttime came on. We both watched it until it turned off. I looked down and sighed “I need to go. We can talk in the morning” I said. Mondo lets go of my hand “Yeah, I’ll come wake you up. Lock your door for me please” he said. I nodded “Goodnight” I said.

I walked out and walked towards my room weirdly passing Leon going the opposite way. I looked back at him then looked forward. I quickly went to my room and locked it behind me.

*A few days after the first class trial*

Leon, Junko, and Sayaka were dead. It seemed like stuff were calming down. Well it was definitely tense but none of us were killing each other. I head towards the dining hall trying to find Mondo so we could go to sleep until I saw Mondo, Makoto, and Taka going into the bath house. Well, in reality it was Mondo and Taka dragging Makoto to the bath house. Curiousity took over me and I followed them into the bath house. I went in and saw Makoto standing outside the Sauna, with a worried expression, looking in the tiny window. I went up behind him “What are you doing?” I asked

Makoto yelped and looked at me “Oh geez! You scared me!” He said and I puts my hands on my hips then looked in the window. I widened my eyes seeing Mondo, fully clothed, and Taka, who was just in a bath towel, in the a very hot Sauna. I sighed almost in disbelief and disappointment “Those boys are idiots. Mondo can’t stand the heat as much as he says he can” I said and Makoto looked at me “O-Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that you and Mondo are like best friends. How was growing up with that?” He asked me. I looked at him “It was interesting, I won’t deny that but he’s not a bad guy. I had to adjust with his motivation of pushing yourself to your max but I love companion. I remember lifting more than him but that was only one time in the beginning of working out with him. I can’t now because of separate locker rooms. I wouldn’t want anyone else as my best friend” I explained it. Makoto nodded and we watch them

*Couple hours later*

I was sitting in Mondo’s room on his bed. I left them a few minutes after Makoto did. I sighed and got up about to go see if they were okay until Mondo came in all happy. I looked at him and crossed my arms. His hair was wet so guess he took a bath there after the Sauna with I was greatful of. I looked at him “Your lucky I didn’t come get you two. I would’ve kick both of your asses” I said. Mondo chuckled “Yea, sorry. We’re all good now. Why’d you stay up?” He asked as we both sat down.

“I was worried! You had it all the way it could go” I said. Mondo laid down his feet still on the ground “Don’t worry, besides Makoto and you go all buddy buddy with him” he said almost bitterly. I tsked and got up “He wanted to know what we were” I said and crossed my arms “Is that a problem?” I asked him. Mondo sat up “Actually, hell yeah it is! What if he’s planning to kill you or me?! How would you feel if I was dead?! Do you know how would I feel if you were dead?!” He yelled. I was thankful for soundproof rooms now because him yelling would wake up everyone. I glared “You have no idea how hurt I would be. I get we said we’d trust each other but I’m allowed to trust other people” I said angrily.

Mondo glared right back “Yeah, I just love seeing my best friend fucking around with dude’s who don’t give two fucks about her!” He yelled. I stood there and laughed painfully “Sorry they made me feel something I never had. I didn’t have a family who cared Mondo! Actually my parents wanted me fucking dead then actually gave a shit!” I yelled back “Don’t play that fucking card! My brother is dead and I fucking had him die my arms!” Mondo yelled right back. This yelling back and forth lasted for a while. Hurtful words left both are mouths until I ran out crying leaving him in his room crying too.

*Evening Time the next day*

Mondo and I avoid each other that day. I hung out with Sakura and Hina. Hina bugged me a lot but I didn’t mind because they both could feel that I was upset. I was sitting with Celeste and the two girls while Mondo was on the other end of the table with Taka and the boys except for Byakuya. I sat there picking at my food while the girls talked. I wasn’t that hungry and I could feel Mondo’s eyes on me but I had to ignore him. An announcement came on calling us all the gym. We all got up and went to the gym.

Monokuma had another motive for us. This was ones that was super good. Secrets or embarrassing memories would be revealed to everyone if no one killed in twenty-four hours. I opened my envelope and saw what he had wrote.

‘Hayami Ahma says she the Ultimate Girlfriend, but her true identity it the Ultimate Loner’

I widen my eyes. I stood there and immediately stuffed it on my pockets. I looked around as they said about sharing them all of them districted with each other. I snuck out and went to the girls locker room. I stayed there and ignored the announcement. I heard someone come in and I looked at them. I saw Hina there and she went to me. She sat down next to me “Hey, everyone is worried. They went to bed but I couldn’t sleep with you alone somewhere” she said. I saw she was holding a paper. I thought that was weird and I checked my pockets feeling my secret gone. I got up quickly “You were trying to steal my secret!” I yelled. She got up too “No! I found it on the floor and accidentally saw what was inside but I swear I didn’t share it!” She said and turned her back to me. Then everything went to a big blur.

*Few hours later*

It was morning. I was standing by the pool, my clothes wet. I did the unthinkable and I can’t remember. I fell to my knees cold from the water. I heard someone come in and gasp “Hayami!” The voice said. I looked and see Sakura running to me. She looked at me and looked at the pool. I looked at her “Someone tried to drown me, I passed out and woke up. A duffle bag is at the bottom of the pool” I said. Sakura nodded and heard Kyoko speak up almost like she had appeared “Let’s get it” she said. Then like right on cue, the body discovery announcement came on. Sakura widen her eyes and I got up “I’ll get it since I’m already wet” I said.

With no protests, I got in and dove under getting it. Sakura helped me pull it up and we look at it. At this time, Byakuya had came in and yelled at the boys to get the others and get in here. Once everyone got there, Kyoko opened the bag. There laying was Hina lifeless body. I stand there shivering until someone wrapped a towel around me which I knew was Mondo knowing that it was his hands. I started to cry and looked away. He held me tightly and we both left so the rest could investigate. I knew who did it, I was the blackened. I killed Hina because of the blind rage I had. I needed to just to make these last moments good or I’d leave this earth with many regrets.

Mondo and I got to my room. I changed while he waited outside of my room. We take my clothes to the laundry room so we could wash them and dry them. I sat down on the bench and looked down. He sat down next to me and we sat in silence for a bit. I looked down at my feet and tears up “Mondo, I’m sorry for what I said” I spoke up quickly. Mondo looked at me “I’m sorry too” he said and puts his hand on my knee. I looked at her and holds his hand gently “Mondo, I need to say something before it’s too late” I said and looked at him “What is it?” He asked.

I took a deep breath and looked at him “I like you a lot. Like more than a best friend. I know I said we were just best friends but I always wanted more than that” I explained. Mondo sat there with a blushing face and I looked away “That’s all, I understand if you don’t feel the same way” I added on. Mondo looked at me quickly “Hayami, I-“ he started then the announcement came on. The class trial was starting and we had to go. We both went to the door, I knew this was the last time we would hang out like this

*An hour later*

After a bunch of nonstop debate, they had pointed the finger at me. I stood there not saying much, Mondo argue with Makoto yelled and cursing how I didn’t do it. After that Makoto looked at me “Hayami, answer truthfully, did you kill Hina?” He asked. I looked up at him “Yes, I killed Hina” I said. People gasped and I sighed “Hina did nothing. I went in a rage and black out, I don’t remember anything. I did it” I said. Mondo stared at me in disbelief and I looked at everyone “Voting time, I guess” I said and smiled a little trying to hid the pain. Monokuma gladly let that happen and everyone voted. Monokuma laughed “You all right! Aoi Asahina was killed by Hayami Ahma!” He said. Mondo stood there angrily “Why?!” He yelled. I stood there then let out a breath

“I live in a sea of lies. I lie to get what I want or to manipulate all those around me. What I said to you in the laundry room was the first time I haven’t lied in a long time” I explained “Hina found out a lie I had inside myself and I lost it. That’s why” I added. I backed away from my place. Mondo started to tear up “T-That doesn’t explain anything! Your not a killer! What the fuck is this goddamn trial!” He yelled. I stood there and smile at him “I know but you will once your not blinded by who I was back them” I said “I guess it’s time for my punishment.”

Monokuma laughed again “Yes! I’ve prepared a very special punishment for Hayami Ahma, the Ultimate Loner!” He said then stood up smiling. Mondo watched me and looked at him “Goddamn it! Let her fucking live!” He screamed. Monokuma looked at him “Let’s give it everything we got! It’s Punishment Time!” He yelled. Mondo sobs there in front of everyone “Hayami!” He yelled.

Makoto’s POV

Monokuma dragged Hayami away to her punishment. Instead of us seeing it, it was on a screen. She was in a sorta vent. She seemed to be scared and at the end was a light. She widened her eyes and started to crawl towards it like something was there. I watch it thing I’d be fine but then as soon as she got close to it shut. Something shut behind her keeping her in place. She widen her eyes and it cut to the outside of it. Two lights were seen, a red and a green one that said on and off. It was off them it was turned on. The air started to vacum out and we all heard bang against the metal. It slowed down until it stopped completely.

We all stood there in silence until Monokuma turned it off and started to laugh “Wowy! What an exciting one! That took my breath away!” He said. Mondo was about to kill him right there before Taka helped him back with Sakura helping him. Mondo was definitely broken up about it. She lied to everyone about a lot but her last statement was undeniably the truth. That ended that trail and we all went back with the punishment on are minds. It was curel for anyone to go through.

#danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #mondo oowada #oc insert #potentially triggering

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