#such as forcing me to get many pointless surgeries i did not want

[somewhat-very-insane]

things that people seem to think are perfectly fine and socially acceptable, but that should not be punishments. and no, i don’t care what your kid did do «deserve it,» these are just wrong

starving or withholding food from your children

making your children destroy their comfort objects (or destroying the objects yourself)

feeding your children foods that they are allergic to

watching your children while they shower or bathe (when significantly past the age where any «help» bathing would be necessary)

hitting your children, manhandling your children, or otherwise utilizing aggressive physical contact against your children

making your children pick up broken glass (without teaching them how to safely do so) or walk on broken glass

withholding medical treatment from your children

threatening to do any of these things to your children

teaching your children ideas like «privacy is a privilege, not a right,»; «these items are in my house, so i am allowed to destroy them even if you paid for them»; and «people are allowed to hurt you if they feel like you did something wrong,» are so damaging to impressionable, fragile minds. you are setting your child up for a ruined, unstable future by doing these things.

* feel free to add on

[sleepyfan-blog]

Exhaustion

Author’s note: this is the second part of Sirass’ backstory! First. Next. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: medical horror, child endangerment, child soldiers, child death, child abuse mention of brainwashing/indoctrination, Iron Warriors Aspirant Training, please ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed something

Summary: A look into the day of Aspirant Sirass, immediately post surgery.

Sirass woke up, as he did most days after his capture by the Iron Warriors, in pain. He gritted his teeth and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth as he waited for the agony from the most recent surgery he’d been forced to endure. He heard a quiet sob from one of the other aspirants in the bunk above him. Part of him desperately wanted to reach out to his brother to try and comfort him… 

But Sirass was keenly aware of the fact that their captors were watching them most if not at all times. They saw compassion as a weakness. They saw kindness as pointless unless it was in service to manipulate others. If they were being watched, saying a kind word, or poking his head over the side of the other’s bed and trying to crack a joke, or offering a light touch to the shoulder or arm would get their entire squad beaten black and blue if they were lucky.

So Sirass forced himself to ignore the quiet sniffling and hiccupping from the occupant of the bunk above him, breathing through the pains of the surgery inflicted upon him. He’d been informed that it was another organ meant to make him stronger, better, faster. To turn him into an Astartes. He knew when the pain was at a level he could start to move at, as the aching, bone-deep ravening hunger in the empty pit his stomach had become started to gurgle and grumble.

The Iron Warriors aspirant looked at the chronometer and suppressed an annoyed sigh. He had an additional hour and a half before he and his squad would be collected for the morning meal…

Though to call the thick, porridge like substance filled with chalky vitamins and gods knew what else a meal was generous at best. It tasted awful, but it filled his belly up like nothing he’d ever eaten before. Sirass closed his eyes, muttering to himself the many if arbitrary seeming rules that he’d been told that sticking too would allegedly allow him to survive the trials ahead of him into becoming an Astartes.

Sirass didn’t necessarily want to become an Astartes, but he’d also been told that if he did survive and pass all of his trials, he would eventually be able to go back home. He might be able to see his mother again, which was the main hope driving him onwards. He’d heard over and over again how it was an honor for him and the others to be chosen to become Astartes. To Serve the Imperium of Man, to serve the Tyrant of Olympia in such a direct and honorable manner. Sirass privately thought that was a lot of groxshit, but he knew better than to say that out loud. 

Rebelliousness was severely punished. Dissension meant death - and often not just of the mouthy Aspirant who said unwise things, but those closest to his physical proximity. 

~

“GET UP YOU LAZY LAYABOUTS! IT IS TIME FOR FIRST MEAL AND TRAINING!” The training sergeant yelled as he kicked down the door, startling awake the nearly dozen aspirants who’d been sleeping in their bunk beds. 

There were startled sounds coming from the others, and Sirass had jumped in his bed as well, but he waited three seconds before getting out of bed, immediately turning to make it before standing at attention at the foot of his bed, hoping that he hadn’t bled through his bandages and sleeping tunic from the abdominal surgery he and the others had received yesterday. He’d be scolded for being messy.

The others slid out of bed at varying levels of coordinated and stumbling. The aspirant two bunks above him rolled off the edge of his bed and began to fall.

Sirass reacted on instinct, taking a half step forwards and catching the other before he could fall all the way to the floor, setting him on his feet as fast as possible, silently hoping that the training sergeant either didn’t notice, or didn’t care that had happened.

The training sargent swept past the two of them  without so much as a glare in their direction - which caused Sirass to let out a tiny sigh of relief, making sure to make as little noise as possible.

The brother he caught murmured a soft “Thank you!” Before going up on his tiptoes to make his own bed before standing at attention.

Two of the aspirants at the far side of the sleeping room hadn’t left their beds. They hadn’t even moved when the Sargeant had called for everyone to leave their bunks.

Sirass could understand why they didn’t want to move - his body ached from the surgery and he was so hungry he was shivering and felt a little weak at the knees and clammy. But such open defiance meant a beating.

The training sergeant stomped over to where the two unmoving aspirants were and looked at them both. There was a small sneer on his face “Weak. These two were week. Not enough Iron Within to handle the process. Cadet Sirass!”

“Yes sir!” Sirass called out, snapping a crisp salute the other’s way, ignoring the way that it tugged at his stitches.

“Lead this group of your brothers to the cafeteria. I will hold you personally responsible if anyone gets lost or the group loses discipline on the way to the grubhall. Understand?” The sergeant ordered.

“Yes sir.” Sirass acknowledged, swallowing hard. “You heard the sergeant. Everyone line up in two lines. Cadet Malix, you’re my second.” Several of the others looked at the unmoving Aspirants, but no one wanted to be accused of Questioning Orders and hurried to obey. That and Sirass suspected that they were just as hungry as he was.

~

The trip to the cafeteria was mercifully short and silent, though He had been forced to reprimand four of the others for trying to start an Unauthorized Conversation in the hallway of the massive ship they’d been training on. He wanted to know what was going to happen to the unmoving aspirants as they did, but as he was “in charge” of them, and cross-chatter wasn’t allowed in the hallways, he had been forced to maintain discipline. 

The hot sludge they were being fed today was greyer than normal, and the liquid that was too sweet-salty to be normal water was thicker as well. Sirass couldn’t find it within himself to care or wonder about the whys behind it, eating his position of food as quickly as possible. 

“I wonder why Umil and Shay weren’t moving… They’re going to be in trouble.” Malix murmured quietly, a worried frown on his face.

“They were the last ones out of surgery, yesterday.” Sirass responded quietly “And their surgeries took twice as long as ours. I don’t… I’m not sure…” While most of the time, if an Aspirant was going to die because of a surgery, they died on the table, not returning to the squad they’d been assigned to, from what SIrass had seen. But sometimes an Aspirant or two died in his sleep after being released from the butchers… Apothecaries… Who’d cut him open and shoved an additional organ inside of them before sewing them back up again.

“Ah. I… Oh.” Malix sighed, staring forlornly at his half-full bowl of sludge. 

“You need to finish eating. You know how they get when we don’t.” Sirass encouraged. “It’s best… Not to think about it. There’s nothing we can do.”

Malix huffed silently but nodded, morosely digging his spoon into the grey sludge, swallowing down another mouthful.  The two of them diligently watched over their remaining brother-aspirants for breakfast.

~

The only positives about the handful of weeks after a Surgery Day was that the physical training was less gods-awful, if only to ensure that they didn’t rip their stitches and bleed out over the training floors and waste the time and expense poured into them by the trainers and medical staff who were shaping them into astartes. The downside was during those weeks, they pushed the propaganda and indoctrination into How Amazing The Imperium Is and Serving The Imperium hard.

Sirass dutifully repeated the mantra of the Iron Warriors over and over again, to the beat that the training sergeant set, alongside his fellow aspirants. They would be doing this for another hour, before being told more Glorious Stories about the chapter, and the brilliance of their Primarch, Lord Perturabo. 

The more he learned about the incredibly powerful being, the less he ever wanted to be anywhere near the near-godlike being. He sounded equal parts tyrannical bastard and unholy terror, both in the forge and on the battlefield. All Sirass wanted was to be able to see his mother again, to apologize for not listening to her. He could still remember what she looked like, and the sound of her voice, at least…

He did most of the time. It scared him, the days when he forgot what his home had been like. To know that he couldn’t recall the color of his mother’s eyes. On those days he’d take out the purloined needle he’d taken and practice the stitches his mother had taught him on the blanket he had, or the inside of his clothing, making sure to undo it before anyone could see what he was doing. The needle wasn’t something he was allowed to have as an aspirant, and practicing a skill that would probably be seen as frivolous… Sirass did not want to be beaten for trying to remember the one person who had truly loved and cared for him.

Not in this place of blood and fear and misery. Sirass was fairly certain they were trying to beat all of the kindness and humanity out of him and his fellow aspirants. This one, small act of defiance was something that he was hoping he’d be able to have.

[kivaember]

👀!! but also, 🎯?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

Interestingly, not many people have made in depth guesses about major major plot points for APV! I am curious to hear people's theories though, if only to see if the foreshadowing I lay down it getting picked up...

Otherwise, on my P5 fic To Know Your Target, quite a few people correctly guessed major plot points, which I found really cool! I like it when people can sorta guess where the story is heading, bc it means I'm building it in a coherent kind of way. There's no better feeling for when you guess something will happen and it does!

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Oh man I have so many!!! Okay, I have one wip that's like two thirds done... it's a oneshot (a big one rip) that's post LoR. It follows 621 hunting amongst the wreckage of the Xylem for Walter's AC, mostly because he's kinda lost on what to do with himself and also bc he wants to give it a funeral. Rusty, still horribly injured from his fall fromthe Xylem, hijacks an RLF MT and follows him there...

The fic's most about discussing 621 and Rusty's different approaches to grief and moving on and the like... and hilariously, as I was writing it, 621 ended up being a lot more emotionally intelligent than Rusty was...

Have a snippet :) as a treat!

He rounded a collapsed pile of masonry and shattered glass, some sort of towering roof structure that had caved in on the deck below. STALKER was standing in the near distance on the very edge of the deck, staring at the slowly approaching supercell. 

Carefully, Rusty piloted his MT to stand beside STALKER, and directed his visual sensors towards the incoming storm. His wipers were going a little crazy now, frantically whipping back and forth to try and outpace the heavy downpour. Beside him, STALKER moved fractionally, its half-rusted joints creaking loudly. 

“...hey,” Rusty murmured. “Aren’t you tired, Raven?”

STALKER’s head angled towards him. 

«Aren’t you tired, Rusty?»

Rusty felt his mouth quirk into a smile. A response, even if it was a mocking (he assumed). He’d take it. “Yeah. I’m pretty exhausted, to be honest.” 

«…then why are you here.»

“Like I said, I came to get you. You’ve been out here for two days. Uncle was getting worried.”

Raven took his time in replying and Rusty patiently waited, ignoring the various aches and pains lancing through his body like razor sharp glass. It was fine. So long as he didn’t bust the stitches from his spleen repair surgery, he should be okay. 

«I’m fine.»

“Sure,” Rusty said. “Just like I’m fine.”

«I wasn’t in a coma for two days after breaking half my bones.»

no, you were just tortured for weeks on end instead, Rusty did not say with some effort. “You still need to eat, right? You’re augmented, but you’re still human.”

Raven didn’t seem to have a ready response for that, so he just didn’t say anything.

“...what’re you even out here for anyways?” Rusty asked, genuinely curious. The Xylem was a marvel of Institute tech, yeah, but most of it was completely ruined from its violent re-entry. Aside from getting blown up and ransacked by invading corporate and Liberation Front forces alike, the seawater filling up half the ship would’ve eaten away at most of the technology by now. 

«…I’m looking for something.» 

“Well… if you’re looking so hard for it, I guess it must be important…” Rusty said slowly. “Maybe I can help?”

«You’re injured and should be resting.»

“You’re injured too.” Rusty’s tone grew solemn. “I know what they do in those re-education camps, Raven.” 

«…»

“You’ve been flat out since you escaped,” Rusty said softly. “Uncle said you only swung by for a day at our base before running off again. If you don’t stop to rest, your body’s just going to give out on you. It’s a pointless way to go.” 

«…»

“Unless that’s what you want?” Rusty asked, and made sure his voice was dispassionately blunt when he added: “Are you just waiting to die?”

The question lingered between them like an ominous shroud. The supercell moved close enough that its thick cloud wall blocked out the sun, dousing them in deep, dark shadow. 

«…no.»

Raven paused, and STALKER kept shifting its weight back and forth, rusted joints screeching and groaning, the AC not built to spend so much time along the seashore, getting sprayed with saltwater and blasted with coastal gusts. It looked like a corpse just barely moving, skeletal, where chunks of its ablative armour had been stripped off from its own re-entry, and the inner hull torn from the tremendous forces it had been under (had never been designed to endure, but had endured anyways). 

There was even a gaping crack in the Core, a sliver where Rusty could peer past the protective armour and see a bit of the Core block that contained the pilot’s cockpit. Red-tinged rainwater was collecting in that crack, pouring out of it like a miniature stream.

«I don’t know what to do.»

It was unexpectedly honest. Vulnerable. Completely out of nowhere. 

“What do you mean?”  

«Before everything went wrong in Institute City, Handler Walter told me what to do. I knew what to expect with each day. I knew what my objectives were. Now, I know nothing. I’m a mercenary with no money or clients, and I have no idea how to get those things myself. I got my life back, like Walter wanted, but there’s nothing in it.»

STALKER’s head bowed. 

«…I have nothing.»

“That’s not true, Raven,” Rusty said gently, taken aback by Raven’s raw honesty, and cursing the awkwardness of having this talk while they were in two separate mechs. Raven was as expressionless as they came, but he could still gauge his human face better than just staring at the side of STALKER’s cracked Core. 

“After saving Rubicon, you’ve definitely got the Liberation Front on your side,” he continued. “And, for what it’s worth, I’ve got your back too. I know you won’t trust that, considering what happened before Institute City but, I mean it. I was-”

He drew in a slow breath, before admitting quietly: “I was wrong about you. You weren’t a threat to be eliminated, and I acted too hastily in my judgement of you. I’m sorry.”

«It’s fine. You weren’t exactly wrong. I was a threat.»

“...? What do you-”

A flash of scarlet lightning lit up the horizon, followed by a booming thunder that rattled Rusty’s very bones and briefly deafened him. He couldn’t help but wince. 

«I’m looking for Walter,» Raven said in an unexpected non-sequitur, forcibly dropping the last topic. «His corpse is on this ship somewhere.»

[hello-nichya-here]

Why is the topic of curing disabilities/mental illnesses so controversial?

Simple: the conversation often excludes the very people that would suposedly benefit from said cures, and whenever we point out some pretty serious flaws in most people's ideas of how a "cure" for these conditions would work, we get yelled at and called ungrateful and/or stupid.

For exemple, plenty of organizations (like Autism Speaks) are always going on and on about how everyone needs to work together to find a cure for autism. Unfortunately, they do that while:

1 - Ignoring that pretty much any serious research into autism shows that it CAN'T be "cured" since it would need to AT THE VERY LEAST completely alter a person's nervous system (not just the brain, but every single nerve too), and that is sort of fucking impossible.

2 - Ignoring that autism is a genetic condition, and likely comes from anomalies in multiple cromossomes. Instead, they focus on stupid shit like soy milk, or vaccines, or something the mother did while pregnant supposedly causing it - things that have been proven false decades ago. Not only does that result in a HUGE waste of money, it often spreads misinformation about the condition (and does some serious damage, like a ton of diseases that had been previously erraticated coming back because of the anti-vax movement).

3 - Ignoring that plenty of autistic people DON'T WANT A FUCKING CURE. If you offered me a miracle cure for my anxiety, I'd take it, because this illness brought me literally nothing good ever. If you offered me a cure for my autism, I'd instantly reject it. Now, if I could get rid of just a few traits (like the sensory issues and meltdowns), I would accept it, but only if I was sure it would be JUST these traits that bring me difficulties, not stuff like hyperfocus or not liking it when people I don't know get too touchy with me.

4 - Trying to "cure" autistic people things like ABA "therapy", that was literally invented by the same guy who created gay conversion therapy and said that autistic people are not human, andwas proven time and time again to give patients PTSD + to not actually "cure" them, just make them mask their traits as much as possible, which led to many patients getting depressed and suicidal.

Now, you might be thinking "Okay, a cure for autism is a lost, pointless cause, but what about other stuff, like a blind person getting surgery so they will be able to see?"

That might sound much easier to do, but it can often be just as complicated. For some people, it would be just a few quick surgeries and then it's done, they can see for the rest of their life.

But say someone is blind because an accident that really damaged their eyes, to the point that, sure, maybe the surgery would be a complete, life-long success - or only help for a few years, then they'd be blind again, assuming it worked at all. And in some other cases, the possibility of complete, lasting success is just out question.

Is it that hard to imagine that some people would not want to risk the disappointment of it not working at all , or only working at first, then they'd end up blind again, forcing them go to the entire process of getting used to it once more after it was supposedly already over?

On that same kind of situation, there's also stuff like people getting MANY super complicated, super expensive surgeries that they'd take a long time to recover from and could have mixed results, like say someone who had a serious spinal injury - sometimes they'll be able to walk by themselves, other times they'll need a cane, and other times they'll need a wheelchair.

That kind of stuff can be a brutal process that would be very stressful, and once again, super expensive, and one could easily decide it's just not worth it, and just stick to being on a wheelchair all the time.

Since I mentioned money, that is unfortunately a factor many people ignore in pretty much anything related to medicine - if it is so expensive that basically nobody can afford it, then it might as well not exist.

There's also the problem of people spending all their time focusing on trying to find some miracle cure, and completely neglecting to do basic stuff that would assure disabled people would have a good life regardless. I lost count of how many "inclusive and accepting" schools I've seen (including the one I went to for most of school-life) or even HUGE hospitals that don't bother to have a fucking ramp or doors whide enough that would allow someone in a wheelchair to enter the room. Couldn't at least some of the budget from governments and charities go to that?

And to end the money talk, there's also the fact that some disabled/mentally ill people DO have money. So much money in fact, that they can just deal with life with barely any struggles, since there's a ton of people and resources they can turn to. Not that hard to imagine why they aren't spending every second of every day dreaming of a way to be cured.

And on that same vein, there's also situations like people who were born blind or deaf and plenty of them don't really want to be "cured" because... well, they might know other people's lives are different from theirs because of their disability, but they never really experienced the world in any other way, so what someone else could see as a tragedy or at the very least a really radical change in their own life is just some mundane shit to them. And even people who became disabled later in life can sort of go through the same if they are used to it and don't really see a point in trying to fix something that, if they're lucky enough to have proper support, isn't really a problem to them anymore.

Basically this topic could be way less of a mess, and more importantly way less condescending/ableist, if the goal was on helping each individual in whatever way would work best of them, instead of just lumping all the disabled and mentally ill into the same "tragic" group that can ONLY ever be "helped" by becoming "normal" so the rest of the world doesn't have to deal with the fact that some people are different and *gasp* that doesn't have to be the end of the fucking world.

[trashyswitch]

Shaun's Playful Side

Shaun is feeling playful and bored, and pulls a few gags and pranks on his coworkers. Most of his coworkers can have a laugh out of Shaun's antics, but two of them find a need to get revenge...

This was a fanfic I had written in a separate fanfic writing spot that I had for a few months to a year. It was fun to write then, and it was extra fun to edit and upload here.

This fanfic is for @secretly-tword-obsessed. I hope you enjoy!

It was nearing the end of the long work day, and Dr. Browne was getting ready to leave. As she was getting ready, she couldn’t help but reflect over the day. She reflected over a few different things, often having to do with the patients. But the one thing she certainly reflected on, was Shaun and his silliness today.

Now, usually silliness wasn’t tolerated in the workplace. But Shaun kept his silliness under control during the work shifts. But when they were given free time...that was a whole different story today.

For some reason, Shaun had been acting a lot like a mischievous child during his breaks. Whenever they weren’t in surgery, weren’t focusing on something serious, or weren’t with/talking about the patient, Shaun would do weird things like: -play with Dr. Browne’s hair -poke Dr. Reznick multiple times -placing zip ties on Dr. Andrew’s stuff -spam Dr. Melendez with texts And: -attempt to balance different things on Dr. Park’s head.

Dr. Park and Dr. Browne saw Shaun’s unusual antics as a funny joke. They just assumed that Shaun was either feeling playful that day or trying to eliminate boredom.

Dr. Park actually found it quite funny when Shaun would come up with things to balance on his head. He even went along with it and helped him pile books on his head. Then, a goofy smile filled Shaun’s face the moment all the books came falling down. Dr. Park yelped and looked down. “Oh no!”

Shaun looked at him with a smile despite his disappointment. “It fell.”

Dr. Park chuckled. “Really? I didn’t notice! Like, at all” He said, over exaggerating his sarcasm.

Shaun pointed at him awkwardly like he usually did. “You’re being sarcastic. That’s meant to be a joke. I liked it.” Shaun explained.

“Yes, it was. And thank you.” Dr. Park said with a playful bow. “Now: How flat is your head?” Dr. Park asked, picking up the books.

Shaun felt his own head and fluffed his hair a little. “I don’t know.”

Dr. Park held up a book. “Wanna find out?” Dr. Park asked.

Shaun’s smile returned for a bit as he nodded.

And Dr. Melendez happened to walk in as Shaun and Dr. Park managed to get 3 books balanced atop Shaun’s head.

Dr. Browne would be thinking of something or reading, when Shaun would just start playing with her hair. It started with feeling it, and soon turned into uncurling and letting go of the curls. “What are you doing?” Dr. Browne asked.

“Your hair is curly. Boing boing.” Shaun said in his monotone voice.

Dr. Browne practically lost it when Shaun said ‘boing’ in the most unenthusiastic voice possible. And the ‘boing’ noises just kept going too. And Dr. Browne loved every moment of it. It was rare to see Shaun acting like this.

Dr. Andrews was a little annoyed at first. He found the zip ties everywhere, somewhat inconvenient. But, he did get some humor out of seeing the scissors, even the scissors, zip tied together. When he went to the video capturing computers to find out who it was, Dr. Andrews was plenty surprised to find out it was Shaun. Though, he supposed he didn’t fully know Shawn outside of work.

“Shaun, can you get me a pair of scissors and come to my office please?” Dr. Andrews asked.

Shaun immediately smiled as the scissors part gave away what he wanted.

When Shaun arrived at his office, Dr. Andrews was smiling and pointing to him. “I looked at the cameras...and found out you were the zip tie man.” Dr. Andrews reacted. “Now I’ll be honest: I was a little surprised at first.” Dr. Andrews admitted.

Shaun looked down, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry.”

Dr. Andrews blinked in surprise. Oh gosh- “No no no! It’s fine! It was funny. Especially seeing the scissors zip tied. That’s a classic.” Dr. Andrews told him.

Shaun looked at him with curiosity. “Now, can you cut these scissors free so I can use them to get my stuff untied?” Dr. Andrews asked, handing him the scissors.

Shaun nodded and cut the ziptie off the scissors. But when Dr. Andrews walked up to take the scissors from him, Shawn started backing up. At first, Dr. Andrews worried he may have been doing something wrong. But then, Dr. Andrews noticed something that told him everything:

Shaun’s little smile.

“Shaun...Shawn I need the scissors.” Dr. Andrews told him, walking closer.

Shaun walked another step back and shook his head with the smile on his face.

“Don’t make me come over there.” Dr. Andrews ordered. “You’re 26 years old. You know better.” Dr. Andrews reminded.

“This is fun.” Shawn told him.

“Oh?” Dr. Andrews smirked. “You want fun? Okay. I’ll give you fun.” Dr. Andrews took off running for Shaun and smiled wider when he watched Shaun turn right around and take off running.

It didn’t take long for Dr. Andrews to hunt him down and get the scissors off him. Dr. Andrews even got Dr. Browne in on helping him. In response to that; Dr. Browne started tickling Shaun and soon got the scissors from the evil Shaun Murphy.

Meanwhile, Dr. Melendez and Dr. Reznick were NOT happy with with the jokes. Morgan saw it as inappropriate for any time of the day and didn’t want him to do anything to her. Not only that, but Shaun’s poking almost revealed a secret that she’s always wanted to get away from. But luckily, it was only Shaun and her in the room when it happened. After that, Shaun’s hand was grabbed and he was verbally forced to stop.

For Dr. Melendez, receiving multiple texts from a resident that just said “hi”, can make you question how useful your phone really is. Dr. Melendez had been spending some of the day questioning if he should either break his phone against the floor, or throw it right at Shaun’s face. Both seemed tempting after all those texts.

Luckily, that hasn’t happened yet...

Fast forwarding to after work, Dr. Browne was closing her locker when Dr. Reznick bursted through the locker room door. “I swear, I am going to KILL SHAUN!” Dr. Reznick yelled.

“Holy shit! What did he do to you?” Dr. Browne asked, both surprised and amused by her reaction to a harmless prank.

“He kept poking me without stopping! It took me 5 tries to get him to permanently stop!” Dr. Reznick yelled.

Dr. Browne just giggled at her.

“Why are you laughing? Getting poked all day is NOT! FUNNY!” Dr. Reznick yelled.

“Come on, Morgan. He’s just trying to have some fun.” Dr. Browne defended with a smile on her face.

“Ha! Fun? You call “getting poked constantly” fun?” Dr. Reznick argued.

“Yes. It sounds a bit better than what he did to me. He kept playing with my hair and calling it bouncy.” Dr. Browne said.

“Well...your hair is bouncy...” Dr. Reznick muttered under her breath.

Suddenly, Dr. Melendez bursted into the room.

“I did it! I worked up the courage to throw my phone at Shaun.” Dr. Melendez cheered.

Dr. Reznick cheered with him. “Yeah! That’ll show him!”

“What?! Why the hell would you do that?” Dr. Browne asked angrily.

“He kept spamming my phone with pointless texts!” Dr. Melendez yelled.

Dr. Browne laughed at her boss’s reaction.

Soon, Dr. Andrews walked into the locker room, holding a big pile of cut zip ties. “I found out who the Zip Tie Man is.” Dr. Andrews said with a laugh. “And the scissors stealer! Don’t ever give Shawn any office scissors again. He’ll run away with them.” Dr. Andrews told them.

Dr. Melendez bursted out laughing at that. “And here I am, giving the guy a scalpel and my phone number!” Dr. Melendez reacted.

Dr. Andrews blinked in surprise. “Wait...I wasn’t the only one zip tied?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Yes, but you weren’t the only one getting pranked or messed with.” Dr. Browne told him.

“I got poked constantly.” Dr. Reznick told him.

Dr. Melendez rolled his eyes. “I was spammed with texts.”

“And I had my hair played with. Which, it actually felt nice! He’s very gentle with people’s hair.” Dr. Browne told them.

“Hey, what if we were to treat him like the child he was?” Dr. Reznick asked. Dr. Browne didn’t like the sound of this...

“Like, payback? Okay. But how? He doesn’t think like us, so he could see the action the complete opposite from what we meant to communicate.” Dr. Melendez warned.

Dr. Reznick thought of ideas, and started to think of her almost embarassing situation earlier. This triggered an idea.

“Hey, I have an idea.” Dr. Reznick said as she walked up, before whispering the idea into Dr. Melendez’s ear.

“Why didn’t I think of that?! That’s probably the most childish revenge I can think of.” Dr. Melendez exclaimed. Dr. Reznick smirked as she looked at Dr. Browne, who looked scared out of her skin.

“What? Poking him to oblivion like he did to you?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Nope. Tickling him.” Dr. Reznick replied.

Dr. Andrews smiled. “Oooooh! I know exactly where you should go for! Dr. Browne happened to be showing me this morning!” Dr. Andrews told them. “This is where you go:”

Dr. Andrews took the time to tell them, and ignored Dr. Browne’s protests that ‘they weren’t true’ or ‘you shouldn’t’. But Dr, Melendez and Dr. Reznick were all for getting revenge. This was gonna be so fun!

Meanwhile: Shaun soon left Dr. Glassman’s office and started heading towards the locker room. He opened the room door and walked in.

“Hello.” Shaun said.

“Hi Shaun.” Dr. Reznick said, oddly cheerful for being annoyed. Shaun noticed this.

“What are you happy about?” Shaun asked.

“Nothing.” Dr. Reznick replied. Shaun noticed many signs that said otherwise.

“You’re lying.” Shaun observed.

“No I’m not.” Dr. Reznick said in a sing-song voice. Shaun started to feel a mixture of fastination and worry. He looked over to Dr. Browne, who shrugged rather nervously. Shaun didn’t like this weird turn.

“What’s going on?” Shaun asked.

“Oh nothing.” Dr. Melendez said behind Shaun, making him jump.

“Hello...why are you two acting strange?” Shaun asked. His boss and his least favourite partner were now circling him, causing him to feel more nervous by the second.

“Oh, you’ve never seen this side of us? Kind of like how we’ve never seen your playful, mischievous side, until now?” Dr. Melendez said bluntly. Shaun started smiling a little bit.

“This is about my playful mood today. It doesn’t happen often.” Shaun admitted.

“Really? That’s good to know.” Dr. Reznick reacted.

“How?” Shaun asked as he followed Dr. Reznick.

Suddenly, Dr. Melendez pounced on Shaun, causing Shaun to fall backwards to the ground.

“I don’t like the look of this...” Shaun admited as he felt his wrists get gripped by Dr. Reznick.

“Since you’ve been acting like a child all day, we’re going to treat you like one.” Dr. Reznick said while Dr. Melendez removed Shaun’s shoes.

“I know what you’re planning. It is not good.” Shaun said, attempting to struggle. However, Dr. Reznick was stronger than her appearance led him to believe.

Before Shaun knew it, he began feeling ticklish sensations on the balls of his feet.

“Hehehe! Wait! I’m sorry! Haha! Please! Hehe! Let me go!” Shaun begged, attempting to squirm out of his trap. Dr. Browne stared wide-eyed, as Dr. Reznick and Dr. Melendez’s secret plan started.

“Wow! Not even 5 seconds in, and we’re hearing Shaun beg. We haven’t even started!” Dr. Melendez said, looking at Dr. Reznick before picking up the pace.

Dr. Andrews chuckled from his hiding spot. He was recording the whole thing on his phone.

Shaun was full-blown laughing now!

“Hahahaha! Wait! Nohoho! Hahahaha!” Shaun laughed.

“You know, Shaun, you should laugh more. You know why? Because I have never heard you laugh like this before.” Dr. Melendez explained. It was then and there that Dr. Melendez decided to start going for underneath the toes like Dr. Andrews suggested.

“Hahahaha! HA! HEY! HAHAHA!” Shaun yelled, as his laughter grew slightly louder.

“Oooh! Sweet spot!” Dr. Reznick proclaimed as she held Shaun’s wrists. Shaun was squirming even more now, and it was becoming more and more difficult to hold him still. Dr. Melendez noticed this and stopped for a moment.

“Did you wanna switch for a bit?” Dr. Melendez asked. Shaun was breathing hard.

“W-wait...no...any-anything but...that...the nails! They’re...worse.” Shaun admitted between breaths.

Those words made Dr. Reznick immediately nod. “You know what? Sure.” Dr. Reznick agreed and let go of Shaun’s wrists. They switched spots quickly, so that Shaun didn’t run away on them.

“Alright. Since Dr. Melendez had already worked on your feet, I’m gonna go somewhere different.” Dr. Reznick said as she looked for a good spot. She decided to try the top of his knees first.

“Wait! Don’t go for my knees!” Shaun said angrily, before kicking Dr. Reznick’s knees.

“Hey! Watch where you’re kicking! And for that...” Dr. Reznick warned before sitting on Shaun’s lower legs.

“Oh no...” Shaun thought out loud.

Dr. Reznick started squeezing Shaun’s knees.

“Ah! D-don’t! Gahahaha! Stahap!” Shaun yelled through his laughter.

“Aww! Is this too much? Here: Let’s see if this is better.” Dr. Reznick teased before poking at the back of Shaun’s knees.

“EEEEEEKK! NOHOHOHAHAHAHA! STAHAP! THAT’S WORSE! THAT’S WORSE!! HAHAHAHA!” Shaun screamed as he struggled to stop her fingers.

“Oh my! I think that’s a lot better!” Dr. Reznick teased.

Shaun’s mind was going crazy! All he could think about was how vulnerable and ticklish he was! Not only that, but Shaun’s hands were stuck above him, which made it impossible to stop Dr. Reznick. “COHOHOME OHON! I’M SORRY! PLEHEHEASE!” Shaun begged.

“Come on guys...He’s growing tired.” Dr. Browne tried to tell them.

But Dr. Reznick paused and checked his pulse. “Nope! He’s fine! Aren’t ya, Shaun?” Dr. Reznick teased.

Shaun had an uncontrollable smile on his face, and Dr. Andrews noticed this immediately. “Look at that man. He likes it!” Dr. Andrews reacted.

“Likes it?” Dr. Reznick asked.

“Aww, but that’s not nearly as fun…” Dr. Melendez reacted.

“Yes it is! That just makes this situation even better!” Dr. Andrews reacted. “Right Shaun?”

Shaun looked at him. “Ihi’m not tickled often. This is very fun and worth all the pranks.”

Well, didn’t that earn Shaun even more tickles!

Soon, Dr. Reznick decided to slow her fingers down, and give the boy a break. Shaun’s laughing and squirming quickly died down.

“Alright. Where should we move to next?” Dr. Renick thought aloud.

“Okay guys, I think that’s enough.” Dr. Reznick heard behind her. She turned around and her eyes locked with Dr. Park’s eyes.

“Come on, let him go.” Dr. Park ordered.

“And why should we?” Dr. Melendez asked.

“He’s exhausted, he’s sweating, he’s as red as a tomato, and he’s struggling to breath without coughing.” Dr. Park explained as he counted with his fingers. “I think he’s had enough.”

Dr. Reznick and Dr. Melendez both sighed as they let Shaun go and stood up. Shaun continued laying on the floor, gasping for air. Dr. Browne and Dr. Park walked over to Shaun to aid him.

“You okay?” Dr. Browne asked.

Shaun continued to breathe in deeply and rapidly, to ensure that he got air in his lungs sooner than later. He was letting out leftover giggles as he attempted to breath. Since he failed to talk, Shaun nodded in response.

“Holy shit! You are sweaty!” Dr. Park reacted to Shaun’s wet bangs, as they stuck to his forehead due to sweat. Shaun smiled in response and wiped his forehead. “That was fun!” Shaun declared.

Dr. Park turned around. “I- really?!” He reacted.

“Shaun likes being tickled apparently.” Dr. Melendez said.

“Huh...Looks like I have something to tease you about now.” Dr. Park decided.

[maverickcalf]

3, any ship you want!

I woke up in a very trans mood, so we are gonna get some Trans Ethan along with a soulmate au. Some Jack x Ethan, Ethan x Julia But end game Benthan.

TW Internalized Transphobia and Self Harm. Like a good amount of self harm. Please send angst/whump dialogue prompts

3. “Your arm looks…weird.”

Ethan Hunt had always wished for a world without soul marks. Well maybe not always, maybe since he could vocalize that he was his parents’ son and not their daughter. From then on every day he had before he turned 18 was both a blessing and a curse.

Sure, he couldn't transition beyond his parents correcting folks and dressing differently. But at least there wouldn't be a mark burning into his arm, a promise there was someone out there for...was it even for him. Or for a past shadow that never existed?

When he woke up on his 18th birthday with the soul mark on his left forearm. Must mean his soulmate has theirs on their right arm. That's normally what happened, it was like a puzzle piece in that regard. What Ethan hated most about his soul mark was it was actually lovely. A tall plant growing out of a top hat, the trunks intertwining with each other a heart craved into each one. A white butterfly resting on the top.

Ethan had seen so many soul marks that just had people’s names and a heart but this... this was designed by someone in the heavens. And Ethan hated it. That the universe did this for him and didn’t even have the courtesy to give him the body he knew he should be in?

Still his parents were pleased, giving him compliments, saying how beautiful the butterfly was, and they took many pictures of it and then he was off to college, where he was alone, and the hate began to boil.

He was never sure why he decide to first take a knife to it. All he knew is his match would be better off without dealing with all his complexities, without knowing him.

But he went too far, his friend noticed. Sarah noticed after a month, and convinced him that if he really hated it that much he should just cover it and not do something so awful. Really Ethan was just thankful she didn’t report him, he could get suspended for something that drastic, maybe even sent away. Sure he still had to wash it and see it then, but it got better.

Then Ethan met Jack. Now Jack’s soul mark were several electrical wires intertwined to make a heart, his was on his right arm. But Jack was different, he didn’t seem to care about soul marks.

“The way I see it, is a soul mark just shows us who we are most compatible with. Five plus Five may equal ten, but there are many ways to equal ten. The marks are just the most balanced number.”

And it made sense to Ethan, and for the first time in years he felt at peace, he didn’t have to force himself into any box or think about be with someone who expected him to be a certain way. He could just enjoy life. And Life did include Jack, for a time. He even stopped hiding his mark for a few years, he didn’t care that their marks didn’t match. They worked well together, and that’s what mattered.

After he lost everyone, Ethan did relapsed. Thankfully not for long, but it scared him. He covered it up again. He had a few dates and loves after that, but nothing too serious until Julia.

Her mark was a standard heart but instead of in the center had a blood red ruby in the center and the heart was silver not anything in a red tone. Julia was very different than Jack. True, she didn’t care that they didn’t match. The only thing that worried her was the scars the littered his arm. But she loved to study the symbolism of the marks and wished she could have seen it when it was not covered in marks of his self-hatred.

One call to his Uncle later and he acquired his old photos of his mark. He decide to not show Julia any photos where you could see his face or his body, he wasn’t on T or had any sort of surgery, and those parts hurt to see as well.

“I love the butterfly. That’s a male checkered white.”

“Huh? Is it?” Ethan shrugged, “Must mean my match is a guy.”

“Hmm, maybe. But that butterfly is more local to your neck of the woods. I think it is meant to represent you.”

He knew Julia had meant to reassure him, but that made him angry again. Why would his mark label him as male and yet he was born the way he was. It made him hide it again.

Losing Julia to his job was the final straw. He was going to get rid of this thing. Love was pointless, especially for him, having a soul mate was a risk, for him and...whoever matched him. He wasn’t going to take that risk.

When he was done trying to burn it off, it was barely recognizable. Just a vague shape of colors, but the butterfly still was noticeable. But burning it off more in prison wasn’t really a choice. So he just avoided looking at it, hid it again, but now with the reason that no one wanted to see his burn marks, the guards all found it awful to look at it, they gave him a large armband and basically forced him to wear it. Fine by him.

But in all the chaos of the mission after being broken out of jail, he had forgotten to hide not only his marks but his burns. And when he enter the room without it all conversion stopped, all three of their eyes were fixed on his left forearm. Shit.

Benji of course was the first to speak up, “Your arm looks…weird.” Ethan swallowed, he didn’t expect Benji to say it like that, and it hurt more than he thought it would. Benji had always looked up to him but now he could see what sort of man he really was. God, the pained look in his eyes, Ethan couldn’t handle it; he looked away and quickly rolled down his sleeve despite the heat.

“It’s nothing.” He said flatly, trying to indicate through his tone he didn’t want to continue this conversation. 

“Nothing, sure.” Brandt frowned, “Like we are supposed to believe that.”

“Just like we are supposed to you are just an analyst.” Ethan said back sharply. “Who are you Brandt, really?” ---

Despite everything, they made it through. The whole team. But he should've known there would be some changes. They saw, they saw what he did to himself, but none of them spoke to him directly. But they did keep a close eye on him. Good. He didn’t try to do anything again, after all his team was counting on him, knowing they were watching did stop him.

It wasn’t until he was alone with Benji in Vienna did he hear anyone ask about it.

“Ethan, your arm-?” Ethan turned to look at a very nervous Benji, all his confidence from early had seemed to vanish. Still Ethan said nothing, waiting for Benji to say more. “Is that where your mark- was?”

Ethan let out a laugh that was much more bitter in tone than he intended, “It’s still there somewhat, despite everything.”

“Can I see it?” Ethan blinked, he wasn’t expecting that. Still he took off his jacket and rolled up his left sleeve for Benji. He tried to remain relaxed as Benji’s traced his fingers along the outline of the mark, despite the burns making a lot of it indistinguishable. What was something was when Benji rubbed his thumb over where the hearts were on the trunks of the tree, they had been gone for years; How did Benji-?

“Benji?” Ethan asked softly, his heart was racing. Was this really happening?

“I would ask if you miss it but-” Benji bit his lip, “It’s pretty evident you hate it.”

“I just thought...” Ethan swallowed, “I thought my match would be better off, safer without me in their life” Ethan looked into Benji’s eyes, “But...turns out, he is staying...? Right?”

Benji felt his cheeks burn, “How did you know?”

Ethan shrugged, “Just following a hunch.” His face broke out into a smile. After all these years, his friend had been his match the whole time. There were still some hurtles but.. but.. Ethan’s smile faded. There was one major hurtle. Ethan pulled his arm back, rubbing his forearm “B-benji. There is something you... you should know, about me.”

“I know you don’t believe in soulmates, but-” Benji said, Ethan could tell he was trying to hold himself together.

“I am trans. I am a trans man.” Ethan said before he could talk himself out of it. Benji’s eyes widened. “I was always afraid, that, my match would expect someone else. Not Ethan but-”

“I am not expecting anything.” Benji cut him off, “I wouldn’t want you to force yourself into a relationship with me! It’s just a mark on an arm, not legally binding.”

“Do you want to...be in a relationship with me? Even after learning I am trans and how...” He let out a soft chuckle, “How much I hated myself?”

“...Yes. I do.” Benji smiled softly. Ethan smiled back.

There would be time to talk later but for now all they needed was each other. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, Ethan’s thumb gently rubbing the white butterfly on Benji’s arm. His parents were right, it was beautiful.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Phosphene | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader (she/her)

✦ word count — 6k

✦ summary — Damian’s plans are never bad; one of them even found the cure to your insomnia.

✦ warnings — mentions of the experience of being fat but not in a bad way, hints of angst, insomnia, anxiety, a little jealousy sprinkled there, Damian being petty, mostly fluff; this was an excuse to write Damian fluff.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

The plan was simple according to Damian, you would have to visit the area where the type of flora the imported species that was causing people to hallucinate lived and wait there until people went to retrieve it in order to catch them.

You had thought he was joking at first, but there were no records left of the shipments that had brought the flower to the country. Without them, catching whoever was behind this would be impossible.

“What if it was your mom again? No offense.”

“None taken.” He swatted a hand. “It wasn’t her, I’ve never seen that type of flower near any of the League’s headquarters.”

“Well, you should take someone else.”

Damian lifted an eyebrow. “Raven will drive me insane, Blue Beetle is unbearable, Beast Boy doesn’t take anything seriously, Flash is...” He saw you wince as he mentioned your ex-boyfriend, “Well, you know how he is.”

“But he’s fast. You could send him on his ow—“

“Absolutely not. I am the leader of this team.”

Ah, yes, you forgot about his stupid pride for a second there. “Cyborg?”

“Busy with The League.”

You groaned. “I will slow you down.”

He now lifted both eyebrows, glaring at you.

“That wasn’t a joke about my weight,” you defended yourself. “I’m... tired.”

“Because you need fresh air and this mission is perfect for that,” he insisted. “It’ll be fun.”

“You hate having fun.”

He ignored your comment. “Don’t make me force you by saying it’s an order.”

You knew he’d never do it. You gave in, everyone around you did so all the time and you weren’t immune to his stubbornness.

The problem with the stupid mission, apart from how drained you felt, was knowing there was nothing you would really contribute. Everything would be easier if Damian would just take Wally, he would save you from endless headaches AND finish the mission quicker.

Damian was already in the living room, waiting for you with his duffel bag in hand and backpack hanging off his broad shoulders. He opened his mouth, about to ask if you hadn’t forgotten anything, when Wally’s voice interrupted.

“Can we talk before you leave?”

You shook your head at Wally’s question. “I would appreciate it if you covered for me with my family, though.”

“We’ll talk when you’re back?”

“Yeah,” you promised. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

Damian pushed the button to summon the elevator, impatient to leave already. You followed him inside as the doors slid open, silently standing beside him.

His glance shifted between the buttons and yourself throughout the elevator ride. He looked like a child who wanted to ask something they knew they shouldn’t.

In your experience, knowing he shouldn’t do or say certain things had never stopped Damian. After three years of being around him almost every day, you were used to his bluntness. You had been told he used to be worse as a teen, but you didn’t really understand what they meant.

Traveling by bus wasn’t something you ever imagined Damian doing. He never had enough time for that, and with the amount of wealth his family had it was also pointless. He had explained it was to go unnoticed with less hassle.

“Are you sure no one will recognize you?”

“Relax.”

Yeah, you wished you could. You had a bad feeling, Damian would dismiss it because you were tired so you kept it to yourself throughout the ride.

As the bus made the first stop, he asked if you wanted anything from the gas station store. Shaking your head, you took time to look out of the window.

As a sheltered kid, you had never been out that much. You had stumbled into being a superhero by mistake, when you discovered you were decent at fighting while at work.

Your family had owned a shop for a while, a client had gotten too aggressive and you broke his nose almost as a reflex. You started training boxing soon after; your mom thought it would be a chance for you to lose weight.

The weight loss didn’t occur, your body type would only change through surgery and you didn’t have the desire to get a procedure. You were fine with your body, and with your personality for the most part.

Something cold fell onto your lap. Looking down, you found your reusable water bottle. When had he snatched it off your backpack?

Damian took his spot next to you. “You look worried.”

You shifted your head to face him, grasping the bottle in your hand so it wouldn’t fall as you shifted your body too. “I’ve never been around nature that much,” you confessed.

“I’m with you.”

That was oddly comforting. Scratch that. It was comforting, period. Damian knew how to do everything, you would trust him with your life and your loved ones’ safety in a heartbeat.

A yawn broke through you. Not now, you thought. Rolling your head to the other side, you rested it on the window, the light would keep you from falling asleep.

Giving in to your exhaustion was tempting, after many long sleepless nights anything would be helpful. You were on a mission, Damian needed you to be alert; that was why you were there, not to fall asleep.

And who even feels the need of falling asleep in a bus but not on the comfort of their bed?

You let the desire of closing your eyes win. Familiar splashes of color appeared against the dark background, slowly fading as they molded with the pitch-black canvas.

Your head bounced as the bus followed what you assumed to be a bumpy road. Your first name was whispered softly, in a tone no one else had ever used. Blinking to adjust to the light, the first things your eyes could make were grey cloth and olive skin.

Lifting your head, you found Damian’s eyes on you. “We are about to arrive.”

”I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.”

He allowed a pause to linger between you. “It’s fine, you said you were tired earlier.”

Rubbing your eyes, avoiding Damian’s face at every cost as you tried to guess what time it was, you found yourself wishing you would’ve bought a watch for these types of scenarios — then again, you weren’t the adventurer from the team.

The place was packed. Couples and families alike were out and about all over the area, Damian had said they would, but you had underestimated how many people he was talking about.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we slept in tents and wore our suits? There’s a lot of people around.”

“That would look more suspicious. We’re here vacationing like everyone else.”

Lifting both hands in mock surrender, you walked past him and into the building.

You let him chose whether he wanted the bed closest to the door or not. He did, throwing his belongings onto the mattress to then pull out a map.

Approaching him, you leaned over to look at what he was seeing. He explained the path you would have to walk through to find the flowers. The hotel was too far away from the area.

“We should sleep. We’re waking up at dawn.”

“I’m not tired anymore,” you assured him.

His eyes lingered on you, silently asking if you were sure. When your only answer was the tilt of your head, he shook his own. “Then rest some more.”

You walked back to your side of the room in order to find some clothes to change into. You hadn’t really packed pajamas, but a pair of leggings and a t-shirt would be enough and had more utility.

You saw Damian pull a pair of sweatpants out from your peripheral view which prompted you to grip your clothes and get into the bathroom so he could have enough privacy.

He was already in bed when you came out, the only light left was the one emanating from the lamp at your right. Dropping the clothes you had taken off into your duffel bag, you turned the lamp off as silently as its switch made it possible.

You laid on the bed with your legs stretched out. The silence, comforting and mildly warm, was your only source of entertainment. It didn’t cross your mind to bring a book or something to pass the time so you would have to make do with your own imagination, the ceiling fan, and the silence.

Exploring the area didn’t sound so bad, but you would attract too much attention by walking around the trees with a flashlight in hand in the middle of the night. Besides, you didn’t know which kind of creatures could be lurking around in the darkness.

You needed a better plan to locate the flowers, and Damian’s permission.

He huffed on his bed. Turning around to lay on his side in hopes to finally fall asleep. He was thankful over the fact that you didn’t need to keep the lights on like Reyes, but frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t sleep anyway.

Groaning, he sat up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“How did you know I was awake?”

“Your breathing is too even for you to be asleep.”

You sat up on the bed too, looking for your sneakers. Once you had tied the shoes on, you stood up.

Damian threw a sweatshirt on, groaning as his left shoulder cracked.

Seeing you go through your backpack, he placed a hand on your forearm to stop you. “Only bring some water and a flashlight, no knives.”

Quirking an eyebrow, you looked at him through your eyelashes. “You are the one who trained me to use knives.”

“That’s exactly why I know when you should or shouldn’t carry them.” There was a hint of lighthearted teasing in his voice.

Under your feet, the old floor creaked. Walking down the hallway and crossing the lobby had been a cringing nightmare.

The two of you walked in verbal silence, letting the whooshing of the wind and the crickets’ chirping mix with the crushing leaves.

Damian would check the compass from time to time, making sure you were following the right path. The action reminded you of the reason you were there in the first place.

The soothing smell of earth made you feel like you were far away, perhaps in a dream.

Damian burst the soothing bubble by breaking the silence with a question. “Why did you refuse to speak with West?”

“Some things just don’t work out the way we want them to.”

Wally had been a good boyfriend, sweet and goofy. He always cheered you up when you were sad and took you out on cute dates. You had innocently assumed it would be enough forever, how couldn’t it be when he treated you so well?

Sadly, he wasn’t what you wanted in a partner anymore. You wouldn’t call him immature because he definitely wasn’t that; Wally was too... lively, too chirpy, somewhat hyperactive. You needed peace, enough stress knotted your muscles already without the headaches he triggered.

“Sounds like you don’t want them to work.”

“He gets on my nerves sometimes, I think it’s fair to say it doesn’t matter if I want things to work or not.”

“And you wanted me to take him with me instead.”

“He’s better at this than me.”

Damian lifted his bottle of water, lips grazing the edge of it as he said, “You sell yourself too short.”

You opened your water bottle too, shrugging. “He’s the sporty type.”

“I would hope so.”

You laughed against the lip of the bottle, “Why did you ask?”

“I imagined you wouldn’t like to get mauled by a bear without talking to him.”

“Are you saying you will let a bear maul me?”

He turned serious. “You know I would never.”

Silence fell between you again, as comfortable as always.

By the time you arrived at the point where the specific kind of flowers bloomed at, the sky was starting to appear dark blue instead of pitch black.

“Why don’t we steal them and then track whoever comes looking for them?”

“Because we wouldn’t have proof they’re the ones doing it.” Damian added, “But we should be closer, you were right.”

“Say that again?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Smirking, too pleased with yourself to ruin the moment, you asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Have you ever camped?”

You shook your head.

“Okay. Stay here and make sure no one gets close, I’ll make a phone call.”

“I didn’t bring my knives,” you reminded him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand, he sighed deeply. “You have your fists.”

He walked past you in the direction you had come from together. Before he could be too far away, you called for him, “And if I’m overcrowded?”

He craned his neck backward to give you a smirk. “Choke some of them with your thighs.”

Looking down at your thighs, you frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

You never found out what Damian meant by that. No one came near the area, seemingly due to how early in the morning it was. If you were to steal some flowers, you would personally do it at night when tourists were busy partying or sleeping.

Then again, stealing flowers wasn’t your expertise.

Damian took longer than you felt comfortable with, but he brought yours and his belongings with him alongside a few other things.

In silence, he slanted his head, motioning for you to follow him.

You snatched your duffel bag from his grasp. “What did you do?”

“I bought the camping essentials I found at the store.”

“I told you I’ve never gone camping!”

“I haven’t forgotten. But last night you wanted to sleep in a tent, didn’t you?”

You shook your head. “I said it because I can stay awake for long periods of time.”

“We’ll take turns.”

You would rather not. Camping as a fat person was a no-no. Well, not really, but many factors could ruin the experience for you and in that case for Damian.

The last thing you wanted was to put up his grumpy version.

You avoided him throughout the day, exploring the area near where he insisted on camping.

He really should’ve listened to you and taken someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get nervous. It wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have known the reasons behind your reluctance.

Calling it insecurity would be reductive when you were comfortable with yourself. It was annoyance over not having control of the circumstances in which you would go camping for the first time.

“I think we should get some sleep,” he said from behind you.

You would only trouble him. There was only one tent, you didn’t know how narrow it would get and for the past four months, there hadn’t been a single night in which you didn’t end up tangled in the sheets over how much you twisted in attempts to find a comfortable position.

Sleep had become elusive even before you broke up with Wally. You tried every treatment in existence with no positive results, there was simply something wrong in your brain.

Damian was sure you wouldn’t come in if he didn’t force you, expecting otherwise would mean not being familiar with your antics. He didn’t want to pressure you, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you were out there alone.

You could defend yourself rather well, it was irrational on his behalf to be so worried. His brain chose to nag him about it still so he listened to it.

He found you with your feet in the river, looking at the rippling water as you made slow movements with your fingers.

“It’s nice out here,” you commented, feeling his presence.

He hummed softly, taking a seat next to you. It smelled like a proper river, unlike Gotham’s.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“No,” he admitted, using his fingers to make movements in the water too.

“Do you have a lot on your mind?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“No.”

He hummed again. Your peaceful semblance was a nice addition to the scenery, with the moon shining in your eyes.

“I can take care of the morning roundabout if you want.”

“You should sleep a little first. We can set schedules later.”

You could’ve sworn his voice carried worry.

His sloppy steps halted as he held the tent open for you to get in. With a sigh, you complied and kneeled on the sleeping pad. At least he wouldn’t force you into a sleeping bag.

When he didn’t make a move to lay down, you begrudgingly did so. His ability to bend you to his will was annoyingly astounding — or astoundingly annoying, it changed day to day.

Damian immediately laid down next to you, facing the ceiling of the tent.

Your hand brushed his by mistake. “Sorry,” you whispered. Damian didn’t answer, he was already asleep.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Mission briefings were everything but fun. Damian’s dry orders always made someone complain — or worse, they sometimes forced the leader to repeat himself.

You were dreading this particular one. Everyone was in a prickly mood due to how much the flower thing was stretching and you could only assume this mission would be part two to stopping whoever was placing the orders.

Damian handed you a large box. Opening it, you found a deep red dress in your size.

“Where are ours?” Jamie asked.

“You are not attending the party as yourselves. (Name) and I will tell you when it’s safe to get in.”

“Why (Name)?”

“Would you prefer I take Raven?” Damian mocked.

Garfield shook his head. ���But you don’t need a date to go to a party.”

Wally shifted in his seat.

“You want Bruce Wayne’s son to attend a party by himself without raising suspicion?”

Snorting, you only stared at him in hopes he would give more details. Of course he would say that.

You had to give it to Damian, he had good taste. The dress fitted you perfectly, it hid your thigh holster better than you thought it would when you took it out of the box which was a relief.

He had told you to not carry them, but the knives surely would come in handy if something went wrong.

With his hand on your waist, he guided you into the venue. People, eager to impress him, swarmed around him to compliment him and yourself. Their eyes would linger on you, but you didn’t care about what they could have to say; they wouldn’t dare to say it in front of him either way.

You leaned to speak into his ear, “Have they approached us yet?”

“Let’s dance.”

You both made your way toward the dancing area, inpatient for his answer. There was something off about that place and you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

Now with both hands on you, he leaned forward so only you could listen to him. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“I have a bad feeling.”

His touch turned into a grip as the words left your mouth. Your body responded to it by pressing closer to him, hands firm on his shoulders as you searched for his eyes.

“I’m with you.”

Nodding, you barely mumbled, “I never said I was scared.”

His mouth twitched upward. You tilted your head as his gaze fell on your nose. If his eyes continued the path...

Damian was pushed off you. As a reflex, you withdrew a knife from your holster and pointed it at whoever had interrupted.

“Woah,” Wally exclaimed, “It’s me.”

You turned to look at Damian but he was focused on the railway. A gun went off outside, prompting Wally to run in aid of your friends.

You slipped your knife back into the holster before it would grab anyone else’s attention. It would be hard for Damian to explain why his date had been carrying a weapon and you didn’t want to get him into trouble because you hadn’t listened to him.

Approaching him, you wrapped an arm around his waist. “Did they escape?”

Throwing his arm around your shoulders, he answered with another question, “Are you injured?”

“No.”

If looks could kill, Wally West would’ve fallen dead in the middle of Damian’s office thirty seconds ago. Not only had he made Damian look like a fool, but he had also let Marconi’s men escape.

Loosening his tie, he didn’t even try to control his voice. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh, you’re mad because people might know we are acquainted?”

“I am angry because you almost got (Name) hurt.”

“She’s the one who carried knives!”

Damian inhaled deeply, holding his head higher than usual. “There was no need for you to intervene.”

Wally gritted, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I am the leader of this team.”

“You were flirting with her.”

Narrowing his eyes, Damian placed both palms on the desk. “I’m going to ask you to leave if you can’t separate your obligations with my team from your personal life.”

“So you weren’t flirting?”

Damian shook his head, exasperated.

He left the office before his head would explode. He was supposed to talk to the others too, but he didn’t want to.

His insomnia was getting worse, between his responsibilities at Wayne Enterprises and the newfound ineptitude of 70% of the team, he was close to combust.

Damian was confident in his leadership, he was more skilled than the team could even imagine. If he wasn’t so fucking tired, he would’ve solved this problem all by himself.

His legs carried him to the bedroom area. He had the intention of taking a shower and trying to get some sleep but they went out of the window when he heard your laugh.

Pushing your door open, he stuck his head inside. You beckoned him in, following his movements with your tired eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I didn’t hurt myself. And I’m the one who carried the knives...”

Damian set his jaw. Sitting down on your bed, he nodded upward at the TV. “What are we watching?”

“The cooking channel.”

“You hate cooking.”

“I hate following recipes for things that don’t need measurements,” you clarified.

He kicked his shoes off, swinging his legs onto the mattress as he rested his back against the bed frame.

Knowing he wasn’t a fan of cooking shows that didn’t entail some type of competition, you surfed through the channels in search of something that wouldn’t warrant you a whiny Damian.

His whining was fun, but you were too tired to not punch him. Remembering what you had wanted to ask since he entered, you breathed in. “Did you fight with Wally for not following your orders?”

“Something like that.”

His dry tone made you shift so you could gaze at him. Apart from his tiredness, he looked really angry still — the frown hadn’t disappeared from his face, his clenched jaw could’ve popped in front of you and you wouldn’t be surprised.

“We’ll catch them.”

Damian stared at you for a prolonged moment, mapping out the shape of your nose and how sunk your eyes were. Your blinking slowed down to a passive rhythm and he felt himself focusing on his own rhythm to mirror yours.

You bit down your bottom lip, gnawing on it. Stretching his hand, he stopped you from drawing blood by pulling your lip out with his thumb. He breathily concurred, “Yeah.”

Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he withdrew it. Silently handing him the tv remote, you laid on your side, curled up as you went back to stare at the tv screen.

Damian allowed his body to relax as he skipped channels. Growing bored, he switched to Netflix.

You sighed deeply beside him, humming to yourself. He turned the lights off, then the TV.

Harsh knocking against the door woke him up. Looking down at the weight on his chest, he felt his breath hitch.

Whoever was knocking got fed up and forced the door open themselves. “Hey, (Nickname), have you seen Rob—“

Damian placed a finger against his lips, motioning for Raven to shut up.

She nodded enthusiastically, surprised by the tenderness of Damian’s touch as he lifted your head off his chest and placed it onto the pillow.

He left the bed slowly, picking his shoes from the floor and using them to gesture for Rachel to leave the room. He followed her, putting his shoes on once away from your bedroom.

“Did you need me?”

“Is there something going on between—“

Damian cut her off, “You were looking for me. Tell me what for.”

“Victor found a lead.”

Your bedroom door creaked open. Damian turned around to see you tumbling towards the kitchen, undoubtedly in need of some caffeine.

Glaring at Raven, he ordered, “Tell everyone to get ready.”

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Damian deviated his eyes to the side in order to rest them, placing a bookmark on the page. Logan was soundly asleep, with his head against the window like you had been that time on the bus.

He remembered vividly the tremble in his fingers as he moved your head to rest on his shoulder so you would be more comfortable, and the way his heart skipped a beat when you sighed contently against his skin.

Turning to the other side, he saw your hunched over form, hovering over the small table in front of you. How you could have the patience to fill a coloring book in the middle of a flight after such a tiring fight was a mystery.

Wally beside you caught him staring, again.

Damian thought he couldn’t dislike the mission more; oh, how wrong had he been. First, he hadn’t been able to bend the plans this time, the only thing he could do was give orders and split the team in the most efficient manner.

And it had worked, but at the cost of his sleeping pattern getting worse. The mission served two purposes, the first was obvious; the second one was more complicated, he came to a few conclusions — they made all the sense in the world in his opinion, but sense wouldn’t change the fact that he couldn’t sleep without you.

There was something in the heady smell of your shampoo that his monkey brain found soothing. He needed to sneak into your bathroom and check which brand you used. Or ask you. Yeah, that.

You were probably making up with your ex-boyfriend while he longed for sleeping next to you. And he hated it.

Moving your head left to right as you scratched your itchy nose, you found yourself wafting Wally’s sweet cologne.

Wally awkwardly nodded upward. The two of you hadn’t spoken much throughout the mission. You nodded back before scratching your nose again.

“Bored?”

Looking down, you shook your head. It wasn’t even worth mentioning at this point, or feeling some kind of shame for it — what embarrassed you was the conclusion you had come to a few mornings ago.

You couldn’t sleep without Damian. There was something about him, maybe his stillness, that relaxed you to the point of being able to sleep eight hours. Your pre-insomnia self had never slept more than five.

“Then?”

“Lots in my mind. I’m worried about—“

“Robin.”

You whirled your head to look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m not surprised.” Hurt laced his hushed voice. “There’s always been something going on between you two.”

“That’s not true. And I’m worried about a lot of things.”

“He’s been staring at you the entire mission, he hates me, you said you didn’t trust Alexis and he broke up with her, you always give him the benefit of the doubt when his ideas are bad... I could go on and on.”

“Well, Damian’s ideas are never truly bad...”

“You call him Damian.”

“So?”

“No one else from the team does. He’s Robin to us, we are our superhero aliases to him and nothing else.”

“It’s not like you guys have ever tried to see him differently!” Your indignant whisper-shout surprised you while Wally hadn’t even flinched.

He hung his head backward. “You’re defending him again.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Is that why you worry about him to the point of no sleep? Because I know you never cared about me that way.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t love me, I know you did.” Wally gave you a sad smile, “But if I made you choose, you would pick him.”

“I wouldn’t pick someone who makes me choose between them or a dear friend.”

Shaking your head in frustration, you picked another marker and went back to your coloring book.

He had been the first relationship you took seriously, the first person you had truly loved in a romantic sense. How could he say those things? Even if they were true, they were uncalled for.

Wally leaned closer to you. “I won’t get mad, just stop lying to yourself.”

You were the first one to leave the plane after landing. Wally’s words made all the sense in the world, that didn’t mean you wanted them to.

No. The truth was that you wanted them to make sense and that bothered you more. You wanted to believe you weren’t the only one in a dilemma.

A stupid dilemma at that. Damian was your friend, you could tell him you needed him in an entirely platonic way — it would be a nice compromise and a pathetic cop-out at once.

Damian placed a hand on your shoulder as you passed him on your way to the living area. “Can you come to my office?”

“Just let me check my phone.”

Nodding, he slowly slid his hand back until it fell onto your arm for a fleeting second before he withdrew it.

Your skin buzzed the entire time it took you to answer texts from your family. Now that the mission was over, you would be able to see them — and to put up with their reaction to your break up with Wally.

Telling them that you had feelings for someone else wasn’t an option, and explaining it was Bruce Wayne’s son would make you sound insane to them.

Sat directly on his desk, with his cellphone in his grasp and frown upon his face, Damian was waiting for you.

From the doorway, you asked, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t look up. “No.”

The answer took you aback. Without invitation, you entered the office. Closing the door behind you, —carelessly and louder than you would’ve liked— you approached him.

He looked fine. Tired, but fine. You knew for a fact he hadn’t been injured, and the mission had been a success so his crankiness was worrying, to say the least.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like I’m worried?” You saw him nod. “Do you want me to scoop my eyes out?”

“Do you look at other people like that?”

“Yes.”

Damian huffed.

“What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop acting like a brat with me, Damian.”

He put his cellphone to the side, finally lifting his head.“Is that really what you want?”

“Preferably. Your act, whatever thing you come up with on the next minutes, won’t push me away.”

“You are driving me absolutely insane!” He wiped his mouth after having spoken so abruptly. “You distract me, I can’t sleep without you next to me, your stupid ex-boyfriend being so close to you killed me the entire mission—“

“Three days?”

He glared at you. You said it so easily, like three nights of no sleep and headaches were pleasant.

You rested a hand on each of his shoulders. “I can’t sleep without you either.”

He opened his legs for you to stand between them. You did so, feeling his hands on your lower back. “Is this awkward?”

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “We’ve been in more awkward situations.”

His arms snaked around you, pulling you flush against him. You inhaled the smell that lingered on his clothes, vanilla and almonds with a hint of something earthy.

“Couldn’t you tell me this in my room? Or yours?”

Damian rested his head on your shoulder. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“What did you want?”

“To keep you from spending more time with West,” he mumbled the admission.

You shouldn’t have found it so funny, but there you were shaking out of laughter.

He whined against your neck, “Don’t laugh at me.”

You slipped your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp. “It’s silly, though, he’s my teammate.”

“And your ex-boyfriend who wants you back.”

“Not anymore.” Feeling him tense under your touch, you elaborated, “He knows I like you.”

Damian’s embrace tightened. He hummed on your skin, nuzzling against your t-shirt. You played with his hair for a few more minutes until he started to get heavier against you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned.

He hummed again.

“Damian,” you tried to make your voice come out sternly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be harsh. “You’ll wake up sore. At least let’s go to the living room.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you. He couldn’t contain a whine as your fingers slid off his hair, making you giggle. He grabbed said hand, practically dragging you out of the office.

Thankful for not bumping into anyone, you made it to his bedroom. You imagined he had stopped there because it was the closest one to his office.

He didn’t let go of your hand as he sat down on the bed and kicked his shoes off. You had to wiggle your fingers off his to round the bed and lay down without pulling him with you.

As soon as your back touched the bed, Damian rested his head on your chest, sliding his hand between the mattress and your back.

Your fingers went back to his hair, which was what he had been seeking in the first place, massaging circles on his scalp. It didn’t take much for his breath to even out.

When you woke up, Damian was laying on his side, hugging you tightly from behind with his other arm. His light breathing fanned on your shoulder, tickling up to your neck.

Torn between leaving the bed to follow your routine and staying in the comfortable position against his chest, you shuffled as slowly as you could until you were facing him.

Damian had never looked that serene. Anyone who didn’t know him would have assumed he didn’t have a single responsibility or weight on his shoulders if they could see him at that moment with his mouth ever so slightly parted.

Your heavy eyes lid closed. You weren’t sure as to what time it was, you only knew that the light of the day was gone already, but the comfort of Damian’s frame and his light breathing was better than anything you had to do.

Nestling your face on his chest, you felt his hand move down your back.

Sleepily, he said. “We could go out to dinner.”

His deep voice made you feel more awake. Draping an arm over his torso, you joked, “Are you asking me out?”

Now with his hand on your thigh, he spoke more seriously. “More than that. But first things first.”

You hummed. As nice as it sounded, you didn’t want to get up.

Damian pinched your thigh. “Come on, I’ll give you an excuse to wear the red dress again.”

You lifted your head off his chest. “Do you have a fixation with that dress or something?”

“I mean, I bought it for a reason...”

You playfully hit his chest. He smirked, fingers trailing up your thigh, giving you goosebumps.

You sighed, “Do you think the team will say anything?”

“It’s not like I care.”

You knew he cared deep down, but fighting him on it would be losing your time. It wouldn’t affect him either way, not like it would to you if they looked at you differently or judged you.

Damian left a kiss on your forehead. “I’m with you,” he reminded you.

[futurebicon]

I am happy to give you ideas! Please supply me with your brilliant writing! I need a bedtime story! Maybe Sirius getting pretty badly injured at a game? Re's reaction and then him helping with recovery?🥰

Okay this ones a little unrealistic probably but I was looking up injuries in hockey and this came up multiple times so yeah. (Also I got so carried away with this one. I literally lagged my phone with how long this ended up being.  There’s defiantly going to be multiple parts because I wrote too much and Tumblr won’t let me write more

Warning : Injury, panic attack?, heart problems, mentions of child abuse

“You okay?” James asked Sirius.

“Yeah, I just feel-off. I guess.”

James nodded, still concerned about the pained look on his face.

He stood up to go tell Remus when Sirius collapsed.

Remus jumped over beach to get to him. The other players on the bench crowding around him.

“What happened?” James screamed.

They could hear the announcer talking about the commotion on the bench. Everyone on the ice skating over and shouting questions. The stadium filled with quiet whispers.

Remus’s mind went blank. He went into the medic routine, not thinking about the fact that it was the love of his life on the ground.

“He’s in cardiac arrest” Moody told them.

“He’s 24” Logan exclaimed.

“DAMN IT GET A MEDIC NOW” Dumo shouted. All of them screamed for a medic as Moody cut off his jersey and gear and Remus began CPR

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE MEDIC HES DYING” Kasey screamed. This sent a shock through the crowd.

The medics appeared and pushed everyone out of the way, only Moody was allowed on the bench with him.

“NO. HE’S DYING AND YOURE NOT HELPING HIM” James tried to fight them.

“Stops, Stop” Remus put a shaking hand on his chest. “Let them work. Let them help him. Please James, I’m begging you to let them help him” his voice shook.

James nodded, backing away from the bench.

Dumo went over to stand near Remus. “What are you thinking right now?” He asked him, knowing that it was pointless to ask if he was okay.

“That I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to lose him” Remus told him honestly. “My biggest fear is him getting hurt or leaving me and now he’s hurt and could be leaving me forever”

Dumo wrapped his arms around Remus, who’s breathing picked up as he thought about Sirius dying.

“Breathe, breathe Loops” He waved over Leo to help calm him down.

“Hey, hey. I know you’re fucking terrified right now. I can’t even imagine what I would do if it was one of my boys but you need to try and breathe Remus. You’re no help to Sirius if you’re panicking. Respirer, Remus”

He nodded, taking deep breathes.

“Good, good.” Leo nodded.

“If he d-”

“No, we’re not thinking about that right now” Dumo cut him off.

“His heart stopped” Remus began to remember bits and pieces of the last few minutes. Remembered checking for a pulse and telling Moody there wasn’t one. “His heart wasn’t beating. He was dead”

The rest of the players were standing around in terror.

They all went quiet as they tried to process what he said, they could hear the medics counting off numbers for the defibrillator.

Alice and Frank were quieting the stadium while trying to figure out what was happening.

The other team, the Hufflepuff Badgers skated over.

“What happened?” one of the players asked.

“Apparently cardiac arrest.” Adam Fox told him.

“He’s young though, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Yeah he is” Finn said sadly.

A stretcher ran past them, loading Sirius onto it.

His skin was the color of snow. His black hair a stark contrast where it fell into his closed eyes. Remus wanted nothing more than to tuck it behind his ear like he’s done hundreds of times. His jersey and gear had been completly removed. A medic was on the stretcher, preforming CPR as they rushed him off the ice and into the waiting ambulance.

Remus shook his head and covered his mouth, tears streaming down his face. James turned him around and hugged him. The entire team gathered around them in a huge hug.

The Hufflepuffs made a circle around them, all of them with their hands on their neighbors shoulder and head down.

They stayed that way for a while before refs told them that the game was over. Their coaches wanted them in their locker rooms. They nodded and pulled away.

The Hufflepuff players patted all their backs and told them they would pray for Sirius.

It was silent as they walked into the locker room.

Remus walked over and sat in Sirius’s stall. He jolted as he realized that they wind of had to cut his necklace off.

But his eyes drifted to the wall of his stall. A small nail in the back corner had the ‘12’ necklace hanging from it. With a post it beside it that read “Re, promise I still love it. Just can’t stand the thought of it getting broken. I love you.”

He smiled sadly, reaching over and took the necklace off the makeshift hook. He couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer.

“He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay.” James cried beside him.

Coach Weasley walked in a few minutes later. “They’re trying to stabilize him and get him on a ventilator. They’re thinking about surgery to put in an ICD”

“ICD? What the hell is that?”

“It’s a device that will monitor his heart rate and shock it if it beats irregularly” Remus explained.

“Like a pacemaker?”

“No pacemakers force your heart to beat. ICDs just monitor it and help if something goes wrong”

“Can he still play?”

“He will be able to if he chooses to but he’s out for the rest of the season. The league can’t risk it.” Coach told them.

“He’s 24 years old. How can you go into cardiac arrest at 24 years old?” Olli asked.

They all looked to Remus for the answer.

“He’s an athlete and works out religiously. Too much exercise can sometimes cause the left heart valve to overwork. He told me that when he was younger his parents wouldn’t let him or Regulus sleep. Making them practice on their rink until morning or they collapsed.”

“Jesus Christ they need to be in jail.” Logan gasped.

“Or hell” James requested.

“The second options much better” Kasey said. “I volunteer to help send them there”

“All of you get dressed to go to the hospital.” Arthur told them, not even commenting on their murder plans.

The team had never changed so quickly.

“Remus, you’re driving over with me.” Dumo told him, Remus just nodded.

“What if he’s not okay?” Remus broke the silence in the car. “I know everyone’s saying he will be but what if he’s not? Realalistic he’s not going to be okay”

“Then we deal with it if that happens. No one knows what’s going to happen. None of us know how to prepare for a teammate to die. So all we can do is wait”

“I can’t lose him Pascal. I don’t think I can live without him.”

Dumo didn’t respond, just reached over and placed a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing slightly. Partly because he wanted to comfort him and partly because he knew it was true.

***

The hospital was quiet as they all waited for news. Some of them sitting on the uncomfortable chairs, a few of them pacing.

“Can all of you stop” Sergio told them, getting annoyed with the footsteps.

“No we’re stressed out so we’re not going to sit” Finn rolled his eyes at him.

“It’s annoying” Kasey told them.

“Too bad. Deal with it” James rolled his eyes.

They argued for a few minutes before Remus snapped.

“KNOCK IT OFF” he barked. “My boyfriend is in there dying or already dead and you’re fighting because footsteps are annoying you.”

They all quieted and sat down.

Lily and Natalie walked into the waiting room a few minutes, tears on their faces.

James and Kasey stood up to hug them.

“What’s going on? What happened? No one knows anything.” Natalie asked.

“What did you see?” Dumo asked as Celeste walked in.

Lily pulled away from the hug she was in with Remus. “Me and Nat were watching the game. And then they panned over to the bench where you were crowded around someone on the ground, one of you tipped over the bench so there was more room and the arena got quiet. Then Dumo was shouting for a medic and Kasey shouted that someone was dying. And the crowd started screaming. Then medics ran over and made all of you clear out and James was screaming something at them. Then Dumo went over to Remus and they said that they think it’s Sirius but they don’t know what happened and then he was wheeled out on a stretcher with someone doing CPR. The the game was over. And the announcers just talked for the rest of the time trying to figure out what happened and replaying everything. They talked to Hufflepuff players but they said it wasn’t their place to explain.” She told them.

“Sirius went into cardiac arrest” James told them.

“Oh god” Celeste gasped.

“Remus I’m so sorry” Lily breathed, pulling him in for another hug.

Nat had more tears falling down her face. “Did they say how he was?”

Dumo shook his head.

They sat down. Lily sitting between James and Remus. Remus’s head on her shoulder as she held James’s hand.

No one knew how long they sat there for before a doctor walked over to them. They all stood up.

“How is he?” Remus asked, terror coursing through his body at the sober look on the doctors face.

“He’s stable.” Remus breathed for the first time in hours.

“His heart did stop multiple times so we ended up having to insert the ICD you were told about. He’s still not awake due to the medication. He’s allowed one visitor for now.”

They all nodded at Remus.

“You were lucky. If you hadn’t reacted like you did we wouldn’t of been able to save him.”

The doctor gave him Sirius’s room number and the overview of directions to get there before leaving.

Lily kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand. “Go see him.”

Remus just nodded and walked down the hospital hallway. He took a shaky breath as he walked into Sirius’s room. But none of it prepared him for it.

A bandage was around his chest and over his shoulder, protecting the stitches underneath. Too many wires were starched to him. Remus walked over to the chair and pulled it up beside him.

“Hi baby” he said as he grabbed his hand gently. Kissing his knuckles.

“I know you can’t hear me but I need you to wake up. I need to hear your voice and see your pretty eyes, okay. I need to know that you’re here and I’m not going to lose you. Please baby.” He begged. Reaching up with the hand not holding Sirius’s to brush the hair out of his face.

“I love you. I love you” he repeated, kissing his forehead. “Please wake up”

Time was water, Remus was drowning in it. Knowing he couldn’t do anything except wait.

Finally, Sirius’s hand twitched in his.

Remus stood up. Watching Sirius blink his eyes open, squinting at the bright hospital light.

“Hey, hey baby” Remus smiled at him, his eyes filled with hears as he looked into Sirius’s grey ones.

Sirius came to his sense and jolted, his eyes going wide and making a machine beep once.

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re okay. You’re okay” he ran a hand through his hair.

A nurse quickly entered the room, the beeping of the machine probably alerting them.

“Oh, you’re awake” she smiled. “I’m just going to check your vitals real quick.”

“What happened?” He asked.

“You, uh, you went into cardiac arrest during the game” Remus told him.

“Can I still play?”

Remus laughed “You just almost died and literally died multiple times and that’s what you ask. And yes you still can once you’re healed but you’ll be out for the rest of the season to recover and give you’re heart time to rest”

“Wait so I had a heart attack?”

“No. You’re heart stopped.”

“Why?” Sirius’s asked. Sticking his arm out for the nurse to pull out an IV that wasn’t needed anymore.

“You exercise too much love” Remus smiled at him.

“That can cause my heart to stop?” He asked the nurse.

“Yes. You overwork it when it beats too fast while you work out. Eventually it gives out.” She explained.

“Oh, can it happen to the other guys?” He asked, concerned.

“It’s rare.” The nurse shook her head. “And from the looks of it, the excessive exercise goes back to your childhood”

“Baise mes parents”

“Fuck your parents is correct. I’m pretty sure the guys are plotting a murder plan in the waiting room” he joked.

“Good”

“I’ll leave you two to plot a murder alone” the nurse smiled before leaving the room.

“I like her, she seems nice” Sirius told him, still a tiny bit loopy from the meds.

“Yeah she does seem nice” Remus smiled.

“Are you okay?” Sirius squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry about me”

“Too bad I’m going too anyway.”

Remus smiled sadly. “You terrified me baby. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’m right here, mon amour”

“I know you are. I just... realized I can’t live without you.”

“And you won’t have too. Now lean down so I can kiss you”

Remus giggled and leaned down, letting Sirius kiss him. He kissed back. It wasn’t a deep kiss but Remus poured everything into it. I love you. You scared me. I need you here with me. I love you more than anything. I can’t live without you.

“I love you” Sirius said when they pulled away.

“I love you too”

Remus sat back down as the doctor knocked on the door.

“You’re teams driving me insane.” He smiled.

“Yeah they do that a lot” Sirius told him.

“Alright, don’t let them hug you and mess up your stitches, I already told them that but I don’t think they’ll listen.”

Sirius nodded. “Am I allowed to sit the bed up. My backs hurting from laying down”

“Yes you can. Just not too far.” He told him before leaving to go get some of the team.

Remus helped him move the bed up. Kissing his forehead when he was sitting up.

“I love you” he muttered against it.

“Love you too” Sirius responded.

Remus knew he had told him that a lot today but if that was all he could said for the rest of his life he would mind.

A few minutes James, The Cubs, Dumo, Celeste, Natalie, and Lily burst into the room.

“Oh merci putain tu es en vie” James gasped.

“I am alive” Sirius laughed.

“If you die again I’ll kill you”

“That’s not at all how it works” Remus told him.

“I’ll make it work”

“We’re glad you’re okay. You scared us for a while there” Dumo told him.

“One could say you have us a heart attack” James smirked.

“Oh my god that was the worse joke I have ever heard in my life” Sirius groaned with a laugh.

“I think it was a pretty good one, si je le dis moi-même”

The girls all kissed his cheek and then scattered across the room to find a place to sit.

“So, what exactly happened?” Sirius asked them.

“You just looked...bad. Like you were pale and kept wincing and rubbing your chest. So I went to tell Remus to check to make sure you were okay and you completely collapsed.” James told him.

“Everyone was around you, Moody and Remus were trying to figure out what happened and the medics were taking forever. We screamed for them but they still took too long. Moody said you were in cardiac arrest and started CPR” Leo picked up.

“They made us go onto the ice so they could work on you. Moody and Coach were the only one allowed on the bench. Remus was freaking out and so was everyone else. The Hufflepuff team came over and we told them what happened. And then they wheeled you out on a stretcher” Logan continued.

“What does everyone know?”

“Just that it was you that it happened too. They were doing CPR on you when you were rushed out. They asked the other team what happened but they said it wasn’t their place to tell. Coach said they’ll have to release a statement in a few. He’ll come back and talk to you about it in a little.” Dumo told him.

“What treatment did I get?”

“You were on a ventilator for a litttle while they were trying to stabilize you.” Remus explained. “Once you were stable for a while they did a surgery to place an ICD in your chest. It’s a small device that will monitor your heartrate and heart beat. If something happens it will send a shock through your heart. I don’t know much else about it so the doctor will have to explain it.”

“But I can still play with it in?”

“Yes. You can still play.” Remus smiled.

“Good” he said with a nod.

“Why is your biggest concern hockey after you just died?” Dumo asked.

“Because it is”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Remus laughed, kissing his temple.

“When can I leave the hospital?”

The others shared looks.

“What? How long?”

“Cardiac arrest is really serious baby” Remus told him.

“How long?” He repeated firmly.

“A month”

“What? But I’m perfectly fine” he exclaimed.

“I know you are but that’s just for right now.” Remus told him. “But 40% of people die within a year after cardiac arrest”

Sirius threw his head back against the pillow.

“I’m sorry, baby”

“Fuck my parents”

“We have the murder planned” Kasey told him.

“You’re the one to kill them” Natalie added.

“Good”

“No one is killing anyone. But if it’s okay with you, we can tell people about it and the reason your heart stopped.” Remus told him.

“I’ll have to call Reg about it. Ask him about it or I can say that he was the favorite child so they didn’t do anything to him.”

Remus nodded. “You’re parents have to pay for what they did” he said as he moved the piece of hair that won’t stay out of his face.

“Yeah” The coversation was cut off as the nurse from before walked in.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“I’m okay, my chest is a little sore but it doesn’t like, hurt-hurt” he told her.

Everyone tensed before she responded with a nod.

“With the surgery and multiple rounds of CPR, you probably will be for a while. If it gets more than sore tell us right away” she said as she checked his blood pressure.

Sirius nodded and squeezed Remus’s hand, it was still tensed up. He tugged on it lightly. Remus stood up and kissed the corner of his mouth. Relaxing immediately.

“Alright, vitals are good. Dr. Hudson will be in soon to talk about further treatment.” She told him, closing the door as she left.

Sirius reaches for his necklace subconsciously, jolting forward when he couldn’t feel it.

“I have it. You took it off so it would break on the ice. Remember?” Remus pulled it out of his pocket.

Sirius nodded, sitting up to let Remus clasp it around his neck.

“Good thing you took it off. They would of had to cut it off it you hadn’t.”

Sirius nodded, relaxing as he fidgeted with it.

Dr. Hudson walked in a few moments later.

The team stood up, promising to be back later.

“Alright” he pulled up a chair. “So you’re going to be staying here for a month. Just so that we can monitor you and make sure that your ICD works like it should. If you go into cardiac arrest or have any other heart issues we’ll have to keep you hear longer. 40% of people discharged from the hospital after cardiac arrest die within a year.” He told them.

“So what do I do about hockey?” Sirius asked.

“That’s literally all you’re concerned about” Remus shook his head with a smile.

Dr. Hudson chuckled. “You’ll be able to play next year.”

“Next year” he exclaimed.

“Sorry but we have to make sure you won’t die again” he smiled at how upset he was.

“After you’re discharged from the hospital and you rest for 2 weeks you’ll be able to sit on the bench during practices and games.”

“Good I still get to yell at them” he smirked.

Remus and the doctor both laughed.

“Your Coach is going to be here in a few minutes. So I’ll leave you all to discuss what ever you need to discuss.”

They thanked him as he stood and left the room.

As sad, Coach Weasly entered a few minutes later with a guy in a suit. “This is Mr. Tela. He’s from the league and is going to make the formal statement” he told them.

Mr. Tela shook Remus’s hand before going to shake Sirius’s.

Sirius winced and sharply inhaled in pain when he at up and extended his arm. “Sorry, forgot I had stitches”

“Perfectly fine” Mr. Tela smiled.

“So what’s the statement going to be?” Sirius asked.

“We need to be careful to not not scare your fans. There’s already mass panic at the fact that Winters screamed that he was dying. And the fact that you where taken away with someone doing frantic CPRhas obviously made fans assume the worst.”

“When are you making the statement? Do I have to say anything or is the league going too?”

“The league will announce it. It’s been over 12 hours since it happened so we’ll have to announce it soon.”

Remus blinked. 12 hours. It felt like just minutes ago but at the same time it felt like years.

“What’s the statement going to say?” Remus asked.

“This is what we have for now. You two can add anything or ask for it to be removed.” He took out two pieces of paper that had the statement printed on it.

Gryffindor Lion Captain, 24 year old, Sirius Black collapsed during the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game last night. The reason for the collapse was cardiac arrest. Black was quickly rushed to the hospital where they were able to revive him. He will be hospital for the next few months. Sadly, he will be unable to play until next year to make sure his heart will be able to stay stable. The reason for the cardiac arrest is unknown as of now.

“Wait why aren’t we telling them the reason for it?” Sirius asked.

“We weren’t sure if you would want it to be known yet.” Mr. Tela said. “If you would like the reason to be included we can add it.”

“I’ll have to talk to my brother about it. See if he wants everyone to know how shitty out parents are.”

Mr. Tesla nodded. “We’ll give you sometime to do that. Just call or text your coach when you’ve made a decision and we’ll come back in and talk about what exactly to say.”

“Thank you” Sirius thanked him.

They stood and left the room.

“Merde, I don’t have my phone”

“Here” Remus pulled it out of his pocket. “Grabbed it from your bag.”

“I love you” Sirius smiled, leaning over and kissing him.

“I love you too. Now call your brother.”

@lumosinlove

[wordsfromthesol]

Pretend to be Friends

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @anousiemay @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial​ @zphilophobiaz Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: Red Hood took an interest in a the new vigilante in town…you. Warnings: Injuries, language Word Count: 2.0k A/N: Still in Mobile and haven’t had much time to write, so this is one I finished before work went crazy. 

"So, you must be new." You heard the voice echo behind you. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you turned around to face the vigilante. It was only a matter of time before one of the big ones discovered who you were.

"Not really. No." The response was short and bitter.

"Ouch, alright. Well, I'm Red Hood."

"I know." The words left a bite in the air as you leapt off the building.

The next three nights your vision was plagued by that irksome red helmet. How he figured out where you were still puzzled you, but if he was going to stick around you might as well talk to him. "ALRIGHT!" You screamed across the alley way towards the building you saw him lurking on. "I give in!" Though his face was covered, you knew he was smirking underneath the mask as he sauntered towards you.

"So, Eclipse, is it?" Red Hood named you as he approached.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised." You scoffed at the vigilante name you had chosen. "So, why have I had a tail these past few nights?" Though you rarely used the confrontational approach in real life, once you put on the mask you gained a newfound confidence. And tonight, you were putting that to use.

"Oh…I just…well you didn't seem to have anyone. And this job is dangerous." Though that was partially true, there was also something about you that intrigued Jason…though he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.

"Well I don't see any Red Hood minions around either."

"Yeah, but I have friends." He pointed to his helmet, "if I need them." You didn't bother with a response, instead choosing to look out over the city below. You knew there were other vigilantes, but it hadn't registered that they may actually know each other. "Just let me give you my number. In case --"

Before Red Hood could finish the sentence, you interjected. "I think I can handle it. Thanks." And with that, you were gone again.

**

The next few nights you didn't see the familiar red helmet looming in the distance…maybe you actually did scare him off. Though just as the thought crossed your mind, the vigilante collapsed on the roof's edge next to you.

"Quiet night, huh?"

"Yeah. All I had was a purse snatcher."

"Dang. Was really hoping to get some punches in." Red Hood almost seemed disheartened that crime was low for the night. You almost didn't ask, but the non-vigilante side won out this time.

"And why the need to punch someone?"

Even through the helmet, you heard the hero let out a big sigh. "Just family issues. My older brother is driving me crazy. And then the old man comes in…let's just say I didn't stick around to be further berated."

"Oh we've got family issues, do we?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow at how much Hood seemed to be opening up to you.

"Ha! My family is one big issue."

"Do they…uh…" The question didn't need finishing.

"Unfortunately. Yours?"

"Oh…uh." You were unprepared for the rebound question. No one ever seems to actually take an interest in your life. "No. They don't. I don't have many though and none of them live close."

"I don't blame them. Gotham is one big clusterfuck after another."

"Yeah." The two of you sat in silence for almost an hour before finally parting ways.

**

After that night it wasn't unusual for Red Hood to join you on patrols or stake outs. Finally, after a few months and a close call, you took him up on his offer.

"Alright Hood, you win." You commented as you approached his perch on the roof ledge.

"Well I always like to win…but what exactly did I win?"

"I'll take your number. For emergencies."

"What happened?" You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

"Nothing!" You spat out the word, not realizing the question had barely left his lips. He stood there, staring at you in silence. You were determined not to break, but then he took his helmet off. The domino mask underneath wasn't enough to cover up his concerned expression. "It was nothing, I promise. Just a close call. I didn't even realize how close until after the fight was over. And I saw a bullet hole in the brick, inches from my chest. So I just thought…well you're right. This is a dangerous job and I should have someone to call if I need backup." Content with your explanation, Red Hood stretched out his hand, gesturing for your phone.

**

Red Hood started showing up on almost every patrol. Though he seemed content to let you do the fighting, he was always there waiting on the rooftop afterwards. You began to think it almost pointless to have his emergency number, when was always a block away, waiting for you to join him. That was until you had to use it. It had almost been a year since you met Red Hood when the fateful night came.

You had been chasing down a new drug ring starting up in town. Following the dealer into the alleyway, you were met with two burly men armed with 9mm pistols.

"Is this your definition of an ambush?" You scoffed at the turnout as you barreled towards the two. Though just as the two landed against the asphalt, you heard a crack as a force pulled your leg from under you. Turning around, you saw another man holding a baseball bat. You took a sharp inhale and ran at the new assailant. As he fell to the floor, you heard more voices and footsteps. Angry voices. Putting as much force as possible on the uninjured leg, you hopped over to the nearby fire escape ladder. Jumping up, you slowly crawled up to the landing and pushed yourself against the wall. You pulled out your phone and texted "911" to Red Hood as you hoped the reinforcements didn't find your hiding place.

Almost as soon as the new goons saw their co-conspirators laying on the asphalt, they left. You only had to wait a few more minutes before you heard the familiar sound of Red Hood's motorcycle. A sigh of relief flooded your body as you hopped back over to the fire escape ladder.

"Eclipse?!" You heard Red Hood's exasperated cry through the alleyway.

"I'm here!" Before you could continue or explain, Red Hood interjected.

"What the fuck! You send a 911 text and then don't answer your damn phone! I thought you were dead or bleeding out or some shit!" Red Hood couldn’t seem to stop the spew of words leaving his mouth. Your feet…or rather foot, finally hit the ground. You winced from the pain shooting up your leg as you leaned against the cold metal. Hood immediately noticed your expression change. "What's wrong?" He realized this should have probably been his first question, after all this is the first time you had ever asked for his help.

"My leg." You nodded towards one of the assailants on the ground. "That asshole blindsided me with a bat." You watched the anger surge through him as he came to your side, you were almost glad the culprit was unconscious. Who knows what Hood would have done to him.

After one look at the damage done, Red Hood made another call. Apparently he did have other vigilante friends. "Red Robin, I'm going to need the car. And get the doc ready."  

"Really, it's fine. I'm sure I can take care of it." You tried to weasel your way out of, well not only meeting more vigilantes, but also owing Red Hood a favor.

"Yeah…right." He glared at you, as you clutched the fire escape. "Totally in hand." Before you could protest, he was picking you up and carrying you to the edge of the alleyway. A car abruptly came to a stop in front of you and another hero stepped out.

"So you're the one Hood's always sneaking off to hang out with." A devilish smirk lined the dark haired boy's face.

"Can it replacement. Motorcycle's over there." Red Hood pointed a block south. As Red Robin began his walk, Hood screamed after him, "AND IF I SEE ONE SCRATCH ON IT!"

**

You pulled up to an unfamiliar place, but Red Hood already proved his connections in Gotham…so you supposed you had to trust him. Not that you had much of a choice at this point. There was no hope you were moving on this leg anytime soon.

"So, whose this doctor then?"

"Someone we trust. When the patch ups are too much for us to handle ourselves." He said it as if what happened was normal, no big deal. You couldn't get anymore questions out before you were met with a pretty blonde doctor and a wheelchair.

"Do I want to know?" She questioned as she wheeled you into the building and straight to the x-ray room.

"Just an asshole with a baseball bat and some luck." You tried not to look down at the damage it had caused. It seemed like hours went by as your injured leg was manipulated in ways it definitely shouldn't have been. Finally, you were wheeled back to a room. Much to your surprise, Red Hood was waiting patiently for you.

"Well?" He blurted out the question before you and the doctor could even get in the room.

She let out a deep sigh, "Well it's not great. A section of her fibula is shattered and she has a compound fracture in her tibia."

"So surgery?" Your voice went solemn.

"Unfortunately. Fairly routine though. Plates and a rod will reconnect your fibula, and we'll put some pins to realign the tibia."

"Great. So does that happen here…or…?" You still weren't sure how you were going to get through all of this without anyone noticing or revealing who you were.

"Here and now. We…" the doctor turned her head and glared at Red Hood, still lingering in the room, "will leave you to put on a gown. You can keep your mask on."

**

You assumed hours had passed, but it only seemed a few seconds to you. As your eyes fluttered open, you first noticed the new bandaging around your leg and then your eyes drifted to the man sitting in the corner of the room. "Why are you looking at me like that." You weren't even sure how your mind formed a complete sentence.

"Doll, I'm not looking at you like anything. Stop being paranoid."

"You don't have to pretend to be my friend or anything." The words were falling out of your mouth before you could stop them. Why would you even say that?

"Well, I'm not pretending. You know me better than anyone." At this point Jason was pretty sure that the combination of pain medicine and the anesthetic was causing the bizarre line of questioning. You had to have known that you were friends, right?

"Please, I don’t even know who you really are."

"And that is why you know me best. No preconceived notions."

"Oh so you're important then?" You chuckled before adding, "or just a dick."

"That's my brother." Red Hood laughed at the pun you didn't understand, before looking over and seeing the confused sad look gracing your features. "Look, I don't even know if you'll remember this…" He slowly pulled off the domino mask hiding his face. "But my name is Jason, Jason Todd."

A faint smile graced your lips as you followed his lead, "Y/N, Y/N  Y/L/N." The two of you broke out in laughter at the drama of it all before hastily putting the masks back on as you heard footsteps headed your way.

[ashenburst]

Enough of Our Disease

Cioccolata x Reader, uh... no real genre, 9845 words. Consider this a prolonged, realistic interaction with the psycho.

tw: manipulation, degradation, abuse, slight violence, blackmail, slight gore

However, just so you know, this isn’t as grim as some Cioccolata stories out there.

A new intern who had just been transferred to the clinic. Nothing more but a stranger. That was (Y/N).

And she was also a student. A brave little student who got a scholarship in Italy, and had the opportunity to work side by side with Rome's greatest doctors. Something she could've only dreamed of, and yet... it became reality.

The new surroundings were quickly conquered by her. She studied hard and long, and she had all that experience behind her to guide her to her bright future. And it wasn't just the mind that she had trained, but the charm as well. She gained favors of both other interns and doctors. It wasn't too hard – the method she used was old, but a trusted one.

She would always assume the best, and from that point onwards, the stranger would slowly diminish their unknown. So did this one. His name was Cioccolata – a sweet one, as (Y/N) humored. He was a surgeon, an excellent one, as she also noted on multiple occasions. A compliment or two would do no harm. Even in professional surroundings such as this one, where doctors were expected to operate almost mechanically, empathy was needed. Luckily, the atmosphere in this clinic was relaxed – and everyone inside was keen on keeping it that way. At least, between the workers.

The interns were welcomed warmly. The doctors, although they certainly had much to do, managed not only to pay attention to the students. Rather, they succeeded in meeting them better; they genuinely cared and dedicated themselves to meeting them better. Something (Y/N) could hardly believe...

The stress and the worry! A doctor had no option but to lose their connections with their patients, for not every life could be saved. And not every disease could be cured, and not every symptom could be eliminated. What could a doctor do, but their best? Even when a surgery would fail, and the patient would live on sick, and even when a surgery would result in death –

"Sir? Are you alright?"

Cioccolata lifted his head, evidently snapped out of deep thought. "I am...? Why are you asking?"

"I just... had to check," (Y/N) told, "it must be horrible, losing a patient like that." She sighed. She didn't know much of him at the time, but his expertise seemed unparalleled. She had seen it with her own eyes, on multiple occasions. This must've been a low blow to his career... and psyche, she believed.

The green haired male forced a chuckle. "I can handle it. Don't worry."

His antics were odd. Unusually calm, somewhat regal. Fitting to a doctor, one would believe, but certainly not typical in reality. This solemn approach of his remained intact in every situation, except, perhaps...

"You've got an interesting taste, dottore," Cioccolata pointed out one day. He had the habit of calling her dottore, for she acted like one more so than his colleagues. During break, he caught (Y/N) reading a particularly grim book. She raised an eyebrow at him, already grinning.

"You're a fan of Dostoyevsky's?" She would love to talk with one.

"I don't think I am, but I did enjoy some of his works. Especially the one you're reading right now," he stated, allowing himself a small smile.

"The Notes From The Underground surely has its appeal. I find it oddly... releasing, despite the book's theme," she began. She simply had to discuss it.

"You emphasize with the man?" The older surgeon inquired, still bearing that smug expression of his.

She shrugged. "I'd say I do. Don't we all?"

"Not all of us are equipped with the proper mindset."

"Or heart."

"Mind rules over the heart. You, an aspiring doctor, should know that of all people," he remarked, hitting a string he shouldn't have. Per se, mocking one's own life work would be a bad thing, let alone tampering with a topic so familiar to the other party. And it just so happened that it was that period of the month. The intern knew what to say.

"I don't think we're on the same page," (Y/N) countered, noticing the opportunity. "We've both started using metaphors and they don't mean the same to us, so it's pointless to lead this discussion any further."

His expression darkened. He was far from pretty – it would be easy to describe him as a repulsive man, even.

He lifted his face, gazing down to her. "Why impress me, dottore? I might tell on you and everyone will find out you're arrogant."

And she regretted ever trying to poke at his ego, just for a bit. Which is why her response was tamer. "You wouldn't do that," she said, stifling a laugh. Maybe he'd realize she didn't really intend to insult him.

"Indeed, but I could." With that, he abandoned her, in a state she'd dub as anxiety. She was never keen on making enemies, not with people like him – people who were intelligent.

Not only intelligent, but dangerous. Authority was in his grasp. He was one of the many people (Y/N) simply had to by liked by. Strangely, he turned out to be amused by her outbursts of boasting – she toned them down nevertheless.

She felt before she knew. A discomfort, creaking softly whenever she'd step on the wrong ledge. And oh, how sensitive she was to the sound. It would alarm her entire being, stiffen her whenever he was nearby. Her intuition would beg her to stay away, and she wanted to stay away – safely – for she wished no stress, no additional bothers in her life.

It was wondrous, whenever she'd look back at it. The way it started off, and the way it developed. Admiration, distance, provocation – and lastly, fear, laced with respect. In the spur of the moment, she found herself wanting to be liked by him. Just like her student self, meeting a new teacher. She wanted to leave a good impression, for it could only benefit her.

Did it benefit her, now? What did she get in return?

"This is Secco, my trusted assistant," Cioccolata introduced her to the young man. His wide, violet eyes stood out to (Y/N) – she could see how nervous his gaze was. And that was all she saw, for the remainder of his face was covered with a cap and a surgical mask.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Secco," she warmly spoke.

"Mm, same," he responded in his so, so unpleasant tone. (Y/N) couldn't believe it was him talking at first. It was as if – as if gravel was being pressed against her skin. It caused her much discomfort, but... she gave him an awkward smile. Then, continued with whatever job was at hand –

She couldn't remember the rest. The memory of the event faded along with that horrible stench of Secco's.

But Cioccolata's voice... steady as the torrents of his elaborating. She loved it. He'd point at the graphs, explain a correlation or two, then pose a hypothesis. (Y/N) was just one of the many interns, and she didn't want to believe she stood out – but by all means, she made it. In the hall, whenever a respected doctor would offer his guidance to the interns, she was one of the few who knew and understood.

It didn't come without a price. She'd been burdening herself with random facts and sublime methods for ages now. Not only did she stay longer at the clinic, just to linger around and do additional work... and talk with people there, too. Every day, a documentary would be watched or a book would be read. Her brain, buried even deeper into her profession. It gave her headaches. Plenty of them, in fact. But she knew she'd been doing the right thing.

This was the prime of her lifetime. All the sweat and tears she'd wasted so far were worth it. She loved her life, the life she earned. And she was loved because of it. Her parents would message her every now and then. She knew she didn't fail them.

And every morning, she'd wake up, look into the mirror and – smile, no matter how bad she looked. With all the circumstances the present was overlapped with, how couldn't she? Everything was good. Her job, her studies, her family and her friends – who she rarely contacted, for all of them were in a similar situation. She was overjoyed, for she knew they would succeed. Her heart was full... every aspect of her life was complete. She couldn't ask for more.

And so the daily routine continued. A bliss, simply put.

In retrospective, (Y/N) truly had no complaints. Objectively speaking, she had no right to ever dare complain. Which is why she'd beat herself to remain quiet whenever the slightest inconvenience would occur. Be it a bellyache, a quarrel, or additional work. Yet...

She loathed when people told her things she already knew. She loathed when people insisted on repeating the same formula over and over again, as if she were dumb – or as if she were ignorant enough not to know it already. She hated when people underestimated her and didn't let her prove otherwise.

But Cioccolata allowed her to.

"Your take on the symptoms, dottore," he tapped the chart. (Y/N) couldn't believe what she was looking at. The symptoms displayed were horrible – nausea, paralysis, loss of hearing – just what...

She blabbered the first ideas that came to her. "Brain tumor? No. Late stage of syphilis?"

"Indeed." She felt her heart fill with pride at Cioccolata's approval. "The universe is certainly unfair towards this patient, hm? He's a homeless man, the ambulance brought him in after some guy spotted him lying on the streets. I'm surprised someone even bothered..."

"Truly... horrible. No comment," (Y/N) muttered, not knowing what else to say. The day was long and she was tired beyond measure –

"Do you no longer care about your patients, dottore?" His question threw her off guard. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she shook her head lightly, all while staring at him.

"I do care about them? Of course I do?" Why was he asking those intrusive questions again? Outrageous.

"Oh. It's kicking in sooner than the usual," he nonchalantly stated.

(Y/N) kept staring at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The indifference. Or numbness. Whatever you want to call it. You simply stop caring... it's normal. In fact, it's an imperative, if you want to stay sane."

How could he say something so provocative? She understood where he was coming from, but talking about it openly was something else. It meant multiple things, and those things were... invasive. She remained silent, and luckily, Cioccolata let her.

This was why she felt uncomfortable at times. This man knew of no boundaries. But... that didn't have to be a bad thing. He was brave enough to talk about the things most people would consider morbid. Yet intelligent. Unique, rare – name it however you want, but (Y/N) enjoyed. Not to mention he was her superior. And he didn't treat her like she was beneath him. Almost as if she was his equal.

She was respected like never before. Not only by him, but by his colleagues as well. It would be an understatement to say she adored it.

One particular, fateful day, she forgot her wallet at the clinic. She hadn't realized it until night fell – she wasn't the most perceptive person, and she disliked this trait of hers. She'd have to get ready and go back to the clinic, which was a bother... and it simply went against her plans. Although she had none.

She was lucky. The lights were still on, and there were people inside, so she didn't attract much attention.

She tried to remember where she had been that day. What was her routine like? They'd been checking some patients, yes, in a more distant wing. She had to do some walking to reach it, and once there... she had to check all the rooms.

Strangely, there was nobody around. This meant she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, at least. But it certainly didn't make her feel too comfortable either. Being alone in those hallways, opening empty rooms – all of that made her feel as if she was doing something wrong.

Maybe she truly was doing something wrong. She barged into a room where lights were turned on.

"My apologies, I wasn't –"

Of course she wasn't aware. She wanted to vanish, erase her memory of the sight – she didn't want to be involved, she didn't mean it to happen, yet –

There it was, the massive crimson protruding through the clinical white, clawing at her sight. Organs, splattered around, begging to be forgotten and shoved into oblivion. Their owner, a man reduced to a hole, laying sprawled on the bed... long dead, long mutilated. And the two of them, her colleagues. The culprits and the criminals, all in one – a pair of monsters.

(Y/N)'s vision distorted. She saw it all clearly, and once the realization hit her, she froze, just for a second. She couldn't believe it. But all of her senses spoke otherwise, and the very moment those two monsters looked at her, their eyes – screaming shrill danger... they would get her.

So she slammed the door and began running. She didn't feel anything at all. Her feet were propelled forwards just like that.

But she was too slow. Far too slow. A shadow appeared in front of her – no, a man – leapt from inside the floor and rammed straight into her. By instinct, she tried to push him away from her – and she was successful. He fell... into the wall?

That was when she processed what she had seen. The man leapt from the floor. And that man was Secco.

Her one moment of hesitation cost her much; suddenly, something hit her legs, and she fell with a shriek and a loud thud. She would've continued screaming if a hand hadn't been pressed against her mouth. An oppressive weight shackled her to being immobile – she didn't even know what was happening. She just kept struggling, desperately, against it all.

Then, a firm voice that echoed throughout the hallway. "Dottore! There's no need to run. We're equipped to deal with these arbitrary intrusions, so it's no point."

These words imbued her with even more resistance. She swung her head, and managed to somehow set her mouth free for a moment. "Let me go – " (Y/N) tried to scream, instinctively, but she was muffled by Secco's hand. She bit on it, hard, making him whimper like a hurt dog. In her mouth... she felt his blood. It riled her up, and she tried to kick back and somehow escape Secco's grip – but she failed. How could a skinny, anorexic being like him keep her in check? This enraged her even further, and she tried to elbow him. In vain. As if he couldn't feel pain.

Then a specific object was brought to her attention.

A scalpel, right in front of her, in Cioccolata's gloved hand. She bit her lip till it ached. She knew she was done for, and this defeat... it was unimaginable, but she was going through it. Her own body turned lax as the realization washed over her. Lastly, she teared up, for she was utterly, completely, powerless.

"Shh, I'm not willing to send you to the other side just yet. Be good now so that you could talk back later," the surgeon spoke calmly, as if to ease the tense air.

She remained put. Her frame, a cage to her wild heart. Yet she was as still as a corpse.

"Calm yet? Wonderful. You are now allowed to speak," he said after observing her for a while. He slowly retracted the scalpel, as if to widen the distance between (Y/N) and her death. She knew he was in complete control, that her life was on the line, yet...

She didn't believe this was happening. To add to that, her emotions were late. She didn't feel anything a person should be feeling at the moment – or so she believed. She perceived her state to be too calm, to the point she got afraid of it.

"What was that," she asked. A stupid question, she immediately thought. But was there anything else she didn't know?

"You're getting curious all of a sudden," he spoke with inhuman vigor. "Be careful. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back," she stated, bold, for she had nothing to lose. Her heart skipped a beat – she was still far too calm about it all. Too focused, to sharply keen on living through her death.

"But intern, you'll be far from satisfied." His mask scrunched up, signifying the change of his expression. It was seen in his eyes, that glint and the wrinkles – he was smiling. (Y/N) redirected her gaze, wondering, just how much did he find it... empowering? Moreover, was his ego big enough to let her live? She prayed, oh, she prayed it was. But her prayer... dripped of hatred. The bold type of fear.

She gazed back at him, so insolent and so stupidly brave. Her expression must've portrayed cold fury, but her tone...

Her family. She needed to be there for them. How would her mother handle her death?

"I'll do anything," she pleaded, her voice meek.

"I don't need you to do anything at all," he answered, deafening all that was left of her hope. And in that moment, she thought –

She loved her life. She didn't regret anything. If this was her end... she had fared well.

Which is why she made peace with the guillotine of his scalpel. She even lifted her head to ease the blade's entrance. All while staring at her soon to be murderer with defiance unknown to her. Secco, behind her, let out a wheeze.

"It's a shame you aren't recording this, Secco," Cioccolata cooed, visibly satisfied. He didn't break eye contact with the intern beneath him. "It's a rare sight. Dottore, you might regret rushing into death like that. It isn't your time, not yet." He snapped his fingers, and with his other hand, he spun the scalpel in a teasing manner. (Y/N)'s gaze lingered on it just for a bit; she found it harder and harder to keep this façade going. It was evidently buying her time, so...

"So, the decision is on you," she said, although she had so much more to share – but her voice was weak, growing thinner with every word. If one part of her mask would fall apart, she knew, she would panic. Oh, the refined delicacy!

Every moment was wagered, as if it were a play of sorts. And she had to impress Cioccolata again. "Absolutely. I have complete control over your life. Both your status, whether you're deceased or not... and your job, as well as your freedom."

"What will you do with it?" (Y/N)'s question came out firm, luckily.

"Nothing. In fact, I believe it would be right to let you go. Wouldn't you agree, Secco?"

"Uwah," he responded in a breathy, low voice. It sent shivers down (Y/N)'s spine, for he... he didn't sound human.

And once that thing let go, (Y/N) got on her feet, rose to Cioccolata's level, and with the last ounce of strength, asked, "what will be of me now?"

"That's your choice," the surgeon responded. He lowered his mask with one finger, revealing an ugly grin. "Why aren't you running like a scared little girl you are?"

(Y/N) couldn't turn her back to danger. She simply couldn't. Facing her back to him, not seeing him, seemed like death to her – for something unpredictable could happen. She could imagine his long arm extending once again, and that scalpel being jabbed into her back. She felt the pain vividly, as if she was already en route to her demise. A ting in her back, annoying her already strained senses...

Why was she scared all of a sudden?

"I'm not scared," she told him, glaring daggers at that vicious visage of his. He merely gave her a mocking laugh. It did manage to belittle her.

"Whatever you say. Today must've been stressful, so I believe you should go home now," he dismissed her.

Could she really walk away? Was that what he was insinuating? Forget and walk away? Or did he want to follow her home and kill her there? No, no – he could've killed her already, if he wanted to. Then... was he toying with her? Certainly, and she hated him for it.

"Dottore? You should go home," he once again said, his tone darkening, "stress isn't good for health. See you tomorrow."

Her ears picked his annoyance easily. That was the moment when she actually got terrified – because she felt she got on his nerves and – he could get unpredictable – and it simply felt horrible. Her heart ached as it picked up its pace, her chest expanding for a brave inhale, and she finally took a step backwards.

She felt her expression twitch at last. She gave in. Cioccolata won, and he nodded in approval. The same way he'd nod at her whenever she'd answer correctly during his lectures.

Another step backwards. Her vision distorted once more, on its own – she was so sore, so tired of it all. Never in her life was she forced to handle such... terror. Once her vision cleared, she saw him gaze back at her, pale moonlight sharpening his ruthless features. He had never been uglier.

Third step backwards. She felt her eyebrows droop. She couldn't keep it up.

She turned around and ran. Nothing came after her. Never in her life had she felt such relief when she reached the doorstep to her apartment.

"Signorina!"

(Y/N) halted as soon as she heard that voice call out. Throughout the night, nothing caught her attention, yet this voice –

She turned around. It was a cop, running towards her. A laugh of pure joy escaped her. She was far too lucky.

"Signore, I have to tell you something – "

"Uh-huh, wait a moment," he said as he stationed himself before her, panting heavily. He hid something behind his back, (Y/N) noticed. An alarm went off inside her mind. But... she prescribed it to her state of panic, and steadied her train of thoughts.

"I believe this belongs to you," he said, lifting his head. One of his eyes was thus revealed from the shadows, and it peered curiously at the girl. She got nauseous at the sight.

He gave her the wallet she had forgotten in the clinic. She reached out to take it, hands trembling, as many slow realizations came to her. Only to be proven by the cop's statement.

"The court is no stranger to them, their connections are everywhere, and you will show up tomorrow, unless you want to die. That's what he wanted me to tell you."

She expected to die, once again. And she didn't dare blink, so she could witness her own demise. But the cop waved, smiled, tipped his hat even, and walked away as if nothing ever happened.

She went to bed that night, knowing she didn't do anything about it. Though... she did prepare herself. Took a knife and a phone to message her parents that she's in danger. And she didn't close her eyes once during that fateful night.

She wrote a paragraph to her parents. About everything. She couldn't believe the words she typed – everything was far too surreal. But there she was, reliving the entire horrid event as she explained it to her parents. They were both asleep, luckily... she didn't want to bother them, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, but she truly didn't want to be a burden. Having finished the entire story, she felt guilt creeping up to her. They shouldn't stress over her. She shouldn't stress them.

And from these thoughts she spiraled down to numerous justifications on why exactly she should bother them. But the first, original idea that reached her – that she was a burden – didn't abandon her nevertheless. No matter how hard she wanted to defend herself.

She was well aware that she was entering a nightmare. The only way to survive it for now... was to obey. Because they wouldn't hesitate to murder her. Not only because they wouldn't be punished for it... but because they just weren't human. They had those – powers, surely. Secco sprung out of the floor, and grabbed her, she saw that clearly. And if Secco could've moved like a ghost, what kind of power would Cioccolata have? The surgeon was fully capable of controlling Secco, as far as she had seen. So, he must've had something even worse...

The morning caught her off guard. Her mind must've been a wreck, then. Time passed way too quickly... and so neared her departure to the hospital.

For the first time in a while, she couldn't smile at the mirror. She couldn't even look at it. Somehow, she got ready, albeit sloppily, and left to her hellish internship.

She had checked her phone multiple times before she left. Her parents hadn't responded yet. Wonderful, that was one thing less to stress about.

Strangely, this clinic she entered... she didn't feel afraid of it. Not in the least. She expected she'd tremble at its sight, but now... she didn't feel anything. Once again, she began worrying if she was, so to say, functioning well. This was yet another one of those moments where she'd know what was the normative behavior, and her behavior wouldn't match. How could her heart remain so bleak...?

There they were. The interns. The perfect distraction. Now, if only Cioccolata would disappear from the face of the Earth...

She kept thinking about him while she chatted with other students. And she couldn't handle the anxiety that welled up inside her being. She began stuttering while she talked, so she stopped. Simple as that. But Cioccolata, that goddamned surgeon, where was he? Why did he need her alive?

More importantly, why was she so keen on living? She finally realized the paradox she was in. In the face of death, she was indifferent, but everything she had done so far was in order to keep her alive. She responded to that in no time. An absent smile found its way on her face. She was a coward. And when she saw she couldn't win against Cioccolata... her cowardice guided her to stay calm. Or was it egoism?

The lectures began soon after. And her wondrous superior appeared amongst other doctors. She felt her insides boil, twist and turn whenever he'd speak up. She wanted to kill him right on the spot. That monster. That... she couldn't even think of how to describe him. Yet the word God seemed to fit. He was a psychopath; he must've had an inflated sense of self.

What to do, what to do... what did he intend to do? Why was nothing happening? He didn't speak to (Y/N). In fact, he didn't pay attention to her at all. This only fed her worry, her... restlessness. And patience wasn't a virtue in this situation.

So she walked up to him some time afterwards. Faced him with a tough expression that she mustered out of hatred.

"Signore... what are you going to do," she asked him in a hushed voice.

"What are you talking about?" He feigned confusion.

"Last night you murdered someone and you almost killed me – "

"Are you insane?" He furrowed his eyebrows in visible shock. "What are you even talking about?"

"L-last night... you... and Secco... murdered that guy in..."

"Is this a joke? If so, you can do better," Cioccolata grumbled.

"I just wanted to know – what do you – what will you do with me." She stopped herself, noticing she was tripping on her own words. Dammit.

"I'm... going to give you a lecture today, just like every other day, and we'll have our coffee during lunch break. Just as usual. Unless you want me to be the subject of your nonsensical jokes."

That was when (Y/N) understood. He played dumb, so that the both of them could just... forget it. But he was probably aware that she couldn't forget it as simply. (Y/N) knew this, and she couldn't handle this... even worsened anxiety that was building up inside her. Because she had no idea what to do. But he, on the other hand...

He must've had a plan. And what was it?

That day didn't offer her the response she was looking for. She found herself practically glued to surgeon Cioccolata throughout her stay in the clinic. She was particularly observant of his actions, and he, somehow, allowed it. This made her feel even worse. He had nothing to hide.

She got home, and she lived through yet another sleepless night. This time, she talked with her parents all night long. They would figure something out. Even the police in her homeland was already involved. When it came to the Italian police, her parents insisted that (Y/N) contact them as well.

She said she will, but she couldn't. Cioccolata controlled them. He controlled the court. He... he had to be involved with the mafia. Even if he weren't... he was dangerous enough on his own. Secco... (Y/N) remembered it all too vividly. They weren't human.

The next morning, she was at the clinic once again. The reason: pure fear. Nothing was out of the ordinary except her eyebags... and unusual tiredness. She was completely unresponsive. She didn't utter a word during any lecture. Other interns made sure to point that out. Not out of spite, rather, out of sheer surprise.

Naturally, she wasn't keen on going home either. She knew she wouldn't sleep, again. Yet she decided to leave earlier than usual. She just couldn't handle it anymore.

"Dottore! Could you come with me for a moment?" She heard a familiar voice call out. With an exasperated sigh, she turned on her heel. She didn't have a choice. She began walking back to the building. At its entrance stood Cioccolata, waving to her, much to her displeasure.

"Signore Cioccolata, that woman is an intern," one of the doctors pointed out as he was leaving the clinic. Cioccolata smiled at him, whereas (Y/N) tiredly gazed upwards, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"But I'm certain she'll become a great doctor someday. No harm done in boosting the intern's confidence, after all," the green haired male explained. He was met with approval.

Oh, how fake his words sounded, only to her. She hated the fact she could see right through his acts, his psychopathic charm, whereas other people would just...

"Eh, I presume you're right. This one deserves it," the other doctor responded with a polite smile and bid his farewell to his colleague. Thus, only (Y/N) and Cioccolata were left at the entrance. And her stomach was already doing barrel rolls.

"What do you need me for?"

"Something that will earn you extra internship points. Follow me."

And she did. Not that she had a choice. Besides, this time, there were actually some people in the clinic, so he couldn't do anything shady.

But as he led her through the sterile atmosphere, her fears grew. He brought her to the less used wing of the hospital, and from there, reached the door that lead to the basement. He opened it. Down below... a somber line of staircase. Nobody else in the vicinity.

(Y/N) could've ran. Whenever she wanted to. The alarm wasn't enormous enough, not now.

"Coming, dottore?" Cioccolata beckoned her.

"No. I'm not going in there," she responded with a scowl, already on her tiptoes to turn around and run.

"Or what?"

She didn't get the opportunity to answer, because she was harshly pushed – and fell down the stairs with a shriek. Pain erupted all across her back, and her head – it pulsed hard once she finally landed, no longer tumbling. She couldn't even see for a bit, and the aches made her hiss, her jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to relieve her of the sensations. She looked up, and Cioccolata was once again above her.

His demand echoed against the desolate hallway. "Disobey once more, and I won't hesitate to make better use of you." His words imprinted in her memory with ease. She curled herself up into a ball, her gaze stuck on the mad doctor's descend. She prayed he'd let her live through her pain, the pulsating agony... but would he?

With every step he took, her eyes widened. And once he reached her, she expected him to kick her in her guts so hard that she'd vomit – and she could feel the phantom of this hit in her belly already. But he never did so. Instead, to her absolute shock, he offered her a hand.

And to her even greater shock, she took it. Got back on her wobbly feet, and firmly stood, thanks to him. She stared at him, her vision already blurry from the upcoming tears. Should she... thank him?

She didn't. Just in case. And he liked that.

He let go of her hand. Then, he pointed at the long underground hallway they had just entered. "Go in there and clean up the mess in the last room. That's your job. Secco over here will keep you company." All of a sudden, the mentioned young man protruded through the wall and made another one of his disgusting sounds. (Y/N)'s stomach twisted even more. She had so much cramps... and such an urge to vomit.

"Goodbye," Cioccolata chirped and left, walking up the stairs. She didn't respond – she put a hand on her mouth. She was moments away from spilling her lunch all over the floor.

"Go, clean the room. Kehehe."

She felt an acidic tang in her throat. Then in her mouth. In an instant relief, she vomited, making yet another disgusting sound.

She looked at her barely digested meal that now laid sprawled across the clean tiles. She was so weak. And Secco was laughing at her because of it.

"What was that?"

She felt her heart sink as another voice was heard. It was Cioccolata. The very moment she thought she got rid of him.

She backed away. She couldn't face him. Not again.

Her legs gave in. She no longer felt them. She could only watch as his shadow reappeared down the stairs, approaching her, about to...

"Eh? Secco, clean that up."

Secco didn't react positively to that. He whined and shook his head. This, Cioccolata noticed, and walked closer to (Y/N) and his assistant. But he neared his assistant instead, much to (Y/N)'s relief.

What happened next shocked her. The surgeon slapped Secco hard. The hit resonated against the walls, echoes filled in the silence, as well as (Y/N)'s drumming heart. She was terrified beyond measure. Her being was in such delirium that it would soon... it would soon... she couldn't even think about what would happen. The aggressor was still in her vicinity, and her focus was solely fixated on him. He could do the same to her. Nothing held him back.

But the green haired man soon left, not sparing a single glance on the intern.

(Y/N) didn't even realize how hard she was shaking. She looked at her hands, and they weren't trembling, no, they were violently shaking. She couldn't believe her own eyes.

"Disgusting. Bleh." She heard Secco grumble. Everything about this situation was ridiculous.

"You go clean the room. Come on."

His irritable voice got to her. Somehow, she managed to stand up, and make her way to the designated room. Inside, she was supposed to...

Clean up chunks of meat? Before she knew it, her gag reflex was activated again. She threw up a clearer vomit this time... it spilled and stuck itself on the floor. Another reek joined the already thick air. At least it would be easier to clean up, she thought to herself sarcastically.

Before her, on a table, stood, indeed, chunks of geometrically cut... undoubtedly, human body parts. She didn't want to spot any further details. Plenty of blood was there as well. How to... handle that? She spotted some bags on a tray to her right. Never in her life had she performed a more disgusting, degrading act than that day.

That was all. He didn't have her do anything else. In fact, he dropped some bitter words of praise as she was leaving. As well as some advice.

"Remember, alarming anyone will only make you bigger problems. I've got my own strings to pull."

Did he know? Her eyes widened in pure shock, and he merely smiled with one of his generic gross smiles. She remembered, of course. She remembered who she alarmed. So she nodded to her superior and finally went to her apartment in the dead of the night.

The shower she took afterwards revealed her all the bruises she gained that day. All she could do was exhale and acknowledge them.

She was offline all day, so once she got to use her phone, she saw that she had a bunch of missed calls and texts of her parents. She skimmed through them – no time to waste, after all – and she... she hated herself for doing that, but... she texted them that everything was alright. That she only had a nightmare that she thought was real, and decided to... yes, to test her parents. She wanted to see how they'd react.

Her parents didn't react positively at all. She called them (a video call, because they insisted to see if she was intact), and the tantrum that followed ruined her. They were worried sick, of course, and they'd already contacted (C/N)'s authorities and media... only to find out their daughter tricked them. Wonderful, truly wonderful. (Y/N) felt horrendous, beat, bad in every possible sense.

The numbness was kicking in.

She took the next day off. Called her parents. Somehow, they didn't respond. So, she called them again, and again. Nobody responded. Christ, what was going on...? They were online all the time, and the one time she needed them, they weren't there. The coincidence was too great...

No. Cioccolata couldn't have possibly reached out to them. They were in another country. If Cioccolata was that powerful, he wouldn't be dealing with (Y/N) like that. Unless – why, of course, he was a psychopath. Psychopaths don't make any sense. But still...

(Y/N) gave up. There was nothing she could do, except... run away? And let those two men do whatever they wanted to? Oh, she was in no state to bash her brains about it. Her head was too heavy, she couldn't burden it with more thoughts.

She was hopeless. She spent the entire day in a heavy slumber, akin to none before. Once she regained her consciousness, she realized, horror etched into her senses... that she didn't wake up in her room.

The light was too strong. Too... harmful to her sensitive eyes. They shot open, focusing quickly on their surroundings, all thanks to newfound panic. She was in one of those white rooms. She was on the surgical table. She was, she recognized quickly, she was in the hospital, and –

"Hello, dottore."

It was that voice. The one melody she despised more than any other. Right next to her. But she couldn't move her head, no, for some reason she was paralyzed –

"And goodbye."

The blade entered her sight just an instant before it landed on her heart. The agony forced out an inhuman wail from her. The shriek was a frail attempt of hers to cover up the pain. The sheer ache that took away her life. It made her limbs tense up, whitened her vision, forced her to wake up –

And she woke up. In her own room. And her heart was intact, alive like never before.

How long could she keep on living like this? It had only just begun, and she wanted to die already.

She got out of her bed and began packing her possessions. It took her only several hours to get ready. She had to leave this cursed place once and for all.

But all of her determination vanished.

This couldn't be happening. She closed the door to her apartment, and on the doorknob, there was a sticky note. On it, with an elegant handwriting, in – oh, the cliché – red letters, was written:

Come to the clinic as soon as you see this. I also urge you to take a look across the street, and spot a pair of young men seated in that restaurant. Their appearance is quite unusual, so you'll have no trouble spotting them in the crowd. Those are the hitmen who will take you out in case you don't come.

Take care, Cioccolata

She read every single one of those words with pure, unfiltered rage. What angered her the most was the ending note – take care, he said. He must've been smiling to himself, that bastard, as he was writing that. He must've been enjoying himself! (Y/N) wanted nothing but to see him die.

She turned around, her hair flipping as it followed her quick movement. Indeed, there, in the restaurant, were two particularly... odd men. One of them had long blond hair, and darker skin, and the other one had red, shorter hair. Both of them wore striking suits. And the both of them waved at her.

She clenched her fists in disbelief. So this truly was happening. She truly, once again, had no other choice.

Although it probably meant nothing, she threw a glance full of hatred at the two, opened her door and put the coffer inside. Slamming the door shut, then locking it, she was on her way to that hellhole of a clinic.

She turned around. The two men were following her. So, they really were keen on knowing where she'd go? Her sarcastic thoughts were so much louder than her heartbeat. Again, she was too calm –

And she stopped walking. Stared at that pair, even, with squinted eyes and an overwhelmingly hostile expression. How far could her spite push her? What did she even want to do?

She continued walking. What did she even do? She didn't know –

Her feet slammed against the pavement. Her aggression seeped all around her. She was turning senseless from the rage.

Even when she entered the clinic, the clean tile wasn't spared of her forceful steps. There weren't many people inside, she noticed – the night was coming. But where was that one psychopath she'd been looking for?

Someone tapped her shoulder and she turned, wide eyes, expecting to see him. Instead, the man who did so was one of the two who were following her. His visage radiated with tranquility, the tranquility she was in desperate need for. It shocked her, brought her rage to a halt.

"Strange, Cioccolata isn't here," he simply stated. His voice bore a calming note to it, something (Y/N) was sure to sense and luckily – take in.

"I don't really want to meet him either way," she responded with a forced laugh. She had to laugh. It released her of at least some tension.

"As for us, we didn't really want that guy to waste our time. And he's wasting it right now. Right, Tiziano?"

The other man, presumably Tiziano, nodded.

"But since you can't really go away, we'll have to wait here together," the red-haired man in front of (Y/N) explained. She nodded. They were so relaxed, and their relaxation got to her. The idea of escape seemed more... approachable, at that moment.

But before she could even figure her first step, he came. Forced her back into that state of –

Calm? Why was she so damn calm?

"Tiziano, Squalo, you didn't have to go that far, but your help is appreciated nevertheless," Cioccolata greeted with regality. The pair didn't seem too satisfied – and they even left without a word. Leaving (Y/N) alone.

She could run...! Right now! But those two, could they – yes, they could get her, dammit. She couldn't leave. But it wasn't over. Not yet. There were people all around her...

"Follow me," Cioccolata ordered, not bothering to hide his coldness.

It took (Y/N) all her strength to fight the embarrassment, but she began screaming. In the lobby, in front of everyone. As loud as she could. And everyone reacted.

The next thing she knew, she was falling. Then everything turned black.

Her consciousness slowly woke up her senses. Again, the white of the hospital, so assaulting and aggressive. This time, however, it was very real.

Secco and Cioccolata were in front of her. The assistant was meddling with some object in his hand, whereas the surgeon did something to the apparats beside a patient's bed.

(Y/N) screwed her eyes shut. She didn't want to be there... she wanted to postpone this, whatever it was, she just didn't want to witness it. There was a patient present, and he... he would probably die soon. (Y/N) recognized him to be the homeless man they once spoke about.

She moved her leg, making a massive mistake. She realized she was restrained, and that one slight movement made a sound – cluttering sort of sound – for she was tied to a metallic chair. Goodbye to her intentions, goodbye to her stolen time, Cioccolata and Secco now knew she was back.

The older man lifted a syringe, looking at its contents against the light. He then spilled it into the IVs that were attached to the docile patient's hand. (Y/N) observed him carefully; what was he doing?

He then asked Secco of the cameras were ready, to which the assistant responded with a weird sound, akin to his usual vocations. Sadly, that was when surgeon turned his attention to (Y/N).

"How long do you think he'll endure?"

"I don't know," she said. She didn't even want to think about it.

"Then, a different question. Do you think he would want to die?"

"If you intend to cut him..."

"No, before I get my hands on him. Do you think that he'd want to die, right now? While in his baby sleep?"

Did she hear him right? Her head was pounding, she couldn't focus on his words, let alone figure an answer. "If he wanted to die, he would've done it until now."

"You've got too much faith in his spirit, dottore. Maybe he's just a coward and he's scared to end it all."

She sighed. Why was he so damn insistent on talking? "...How would you know?"

"I don't know. Let's ask him, shall we?"

All of a sudden, he slapped the patient, successfully waking him up. The old man began making incoherent sounds, completely shocked because of the hit.

"Do you want to live?" (Y/N) could see the sadist's lips curl up in his newfound pleasure as he asked.

"...Of course I do! What kind of question is that?" Panic slipped through his tone. "What are you going to do...?"

"It won't change the outcome of your state, surely. Does the intern disagree with her superior that this man has contained the urge to die?"

"If I were you... I wouldn't be so sure, because of... existentialism," she recklessly responded, only to be laughed at.

"Likewise, for I'm certain I can thwart your oh-so educated mindset," he discriminated, only to turn to Secco and tell him to start recording. The patient was oblivious to what would happen.

Before she could realize it, he was cutting. He began the operation. And the man... he was fully aware of it. Awake, conscious, his senses functioning perfectly. Therefrom came his screams.

A long cut across the stomach. Ghastly red came from the wound. His bodily liquids ran free down his stomach, painting it warm tones of life being spilled. The larger the gash, the stronger his screams. He was in such agony that (Y/N)'s very guts tumbled.

The doctor continued his surgery. He opened the cut, he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. The same hands he had once used to save countless lives, the same hands (Y/N) would once kill for. And he began his work, enjoying the desperate cries of his patient. This only resulted in...

Pulsating intestines. Their crimson coating glimmered underneath the cold hospital lights. Each and every drop of blood that descended, hit the drums of polished tiles. Lifting the organ upwards was Cioccolata, who rejoiced at his trophy: the man's deafening screams, and his contorted face – amorphous out of sheer pain.

The sight remained implanted in (Y/N)'s mind. She forced herself to watch it, even though she could've closed her eyes. She simply gave in to suffering. She no longer cared.

And oh, Cioccolata was a skilled surgeon. He knew where to cut to keep his patient alive. He knew what to do in order to maximize the experience.

But a human body had its boundaries. The patient's spasms died down, and his throat turned dry. Until he convulsed one last time, marking his early departure with one final wail.

"You..." (Y/N) was speechless. After the realization found her, after she understood the gravity of this entire event – she regained her loathing. "How dare you... do that... You're a monster. You're the worst man on this planet," she muttered. It was satisfying to admit that, but at a cost too high.

It took Cioccolata only a couple of steps to reach her, lift his hand and slap her hard. Throughout the dizziness, the ringing in her ears and the sharp pain that faded from her face, she made out his words.

"I'll advise you, not as a colleague, but as a friend, to stay silent. If you thought you were aware of the consequences, I've proven you wrong. Something you very much dislike, don't you, dottore?"

He glared down to the pits of her very soul, and what he saw was right. He perceived her numerous faults; he knew her better than her very parents, and unlike them, he knew how to beat them. "...true."

"So don't talk unless you're talked to. It would be wonderful to have you too quiver and crumble on the table," he commented, earning no reactions from the intern. He chuckled once he realized that. And (Y/N), she was aggravated.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

Those venomous eyes of his widened. "Aren't you? You partake in a newer form of research. You may deem it however you want, but it is, essentially, uplifting man above all norms. A borderless, maladaptive curiosity. Quick to devour, quick to digest. You will always be left with an insatiable hunger for more."

She understood him. And she would forever bear the heavy knowledge of that fact.

"But what of morals? What of society and its rules? Would you like to answer?" He questioned carefully, as if he was probing her. As if he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. And (Y/N) got to be listened to, for once – but she had nothing to say.

"You avoid those," she bluntly responded.

"I was hoping for something more poetic. You're always keen on making things different, outstanding. A pity, truly. You won't be able to do that anymore."

He would get rid of her. At last. She felt disgusted because she found solace in the fact, even for a moment. "You'll kill me. Is there anything –"

"You could do to live? No, you're in my hands, and I am an excellent doctor. Your own words."

She smiled at him. She had never felt such hatred toward another being.

"I promise I won't say anything," she mumbled through her clenched teeth.

"You will stay silent. I know you will." And he turned around.

"Secco. Bring her to room 79 and leave her there. We'll get to her once we clean this mess."

"Oowhooaa," the being gargled. It approached (Y/N) and released her of her confinements. She spotted the skin on her wrists to have turned dark, and once it was set free, she could feel it ache.

She couldn't resist Secco. Cioccolata was right in front of her, and Secco... Secco had his power that rendered him unbeatable.

So she let him, she let him guide her to her umpteenth death. She was as obedient as she could get. She just wanted this to get over with, for once – that was what her manic mind was currently telling her.

He pushed her in a dark room. There were no windows, for it was the basement, so once the door was closed and locked – (Y/N) was left in pitch darkness.

Every sound killed her. Gave her a heart attack, over and over again. Be it a footstep, be it the sound of instruments clinking, be it their voice. Every single thing impaled her eardrums.

She waited for it to get over. Waited long and patiently, shivering as her body grasped its final hours. She lived through her life all over again, multiple times, bid her farewells to her beloved ones. Prayed, that someone on the heavens above would hear her messages, and send them to the people she cared. Her monologues were pathetic, as she intended them to be. There was no need to hold back. She would soon die.

Then she started begging for something to occur. She could swear her ears would bleed soon – for she couldn't handle the announcements of the sensations. Always nearby, but never there. And she yearned for them to finally end, for her to live through her final agony, and finally die.

It was unbearable. She didn't want to die, she wanted it all to just end. But death was her only escape. Yet it wouldn't arrive...! For some reason, she was still waiting, for hours, for hours she'd been twitching and foaming, accepting her defeat over and over again.

And during the period when her thoughts died down and her body turned still, light entered her room at last. The foreign, the unpleasant light, that hurt her eyes – it would guide her to heaven, soon. Her mind enlisted a long line of metaphors, some of them making way into faint hallucinations. But all of them disappeared once he appeared.

"Dottore? What are you doing in here?"

Cioccolata's voice resonated with confusion. This in turn caused (Y/N) some confusion as well.

"You..." She croaked, and only then did she realize how dry her throat had been. How thirsty she had gotten.

"Yes, it's me," he responded leisurely. She saw his shadow enter and enlarge, coming closer to her. He helped her stand up, and (Y/N) noticed his nose scrunch up because of something – oh no. She realized once she heard she stepped into a puddle. Despite that, he seemed rather... peaceful. Cooperative even.

"Why am I alive?" She couldn't help but ask as he dragged her outside the dark cell. The air outside was so much better to breathe...

"Ah, getting overly curious again, are we, dottore?"

His tone. She didn't feel her legs for an instant. "Pardon," she answered reflexively. Her heart ached at this humiliation. It was slowly becoming integrated into her being. She wouldn't have it that way – or so she revolted inside her mind.

"That's no bad trait, mind you, dottore. I find myself indulging in my fantasies far too –"

(Y/N) landed a hit on his jaw. Pain shot through her arm – punching wasn't the most pleasant, but seeing Cioccolata in pain, hearing him wince, that was what gave (Y/N) life. He stumbled backwards, placing a hand on his jaw, and he glared at (Y/N) who showed zero emotions for his trouble.

"Is this assault, dottore? You're doing something illegal, you might get arrested," he warned, his calm voice a contrast to his bewildered expression.

How dare he, how dare he – (Y/N)'s mind turned into a whirlwind of protests, deforming her face into that of pure rage. She would see him pay. She walked backwards, fists balled up, ready to run away and grab anything to murder that monster.

"I won't fucking regret it, and I'll get you to jail with me, you monster," she growled, "or even better, I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you. I'll – kithl –" Saliva began dripping from her mouth, interrupting her tantrum.

Cioccolata took the opportunity to speak up. "It appears you've forgotten. There's two of us."

That was when she felt something heavy on her back. It had to be Secco. The very moment she felt something on there, she elbowed him multiple times, hitting his ribcage, and hopefully his face as well, for she was aiming there. She wanted to see him suffer.

"Go away – knock it off, go away," she began, then roared, "FUCK OFF!"

The struggle wasn't in vain. Her elbows hurt, but she managed to get him off her back. Secco staggered backwards and fell with a wince – into the ground, vanishing. (Y/N) noticed in the corner of her eye, Cioccolata, approaching with steady steps.

"Don't fucking touch me, don't you fucking dare," she wheezed, hands in front of her to defend herself. And that was all. She was paralyzed, because...

Because she had never seen an expression so grim, so monstrous. He relished in his own apathy and it ruined him. Scarred every bit of his already hideous face. It was far too overwhelming for her.

Then came his turn to be shocked. His brows twitched, eyelids spasmed, as his gaze went above (Y/N). She was quick to follow it.

Behind her stood a... robot, as it seemed, donned in golden and similar colors. Similarly, a bright yellow aura radiated from it – and from (Y/N)... as well?

She felt his clawed hand land on her shoulder. "Run," the figure ordered... in her own voice?

"I've had enough of you," Cioccolata then said, each and every word of his stressed with undivided hatred.

But (Y/N) trusted this being. The instinct was quick. It was a solution deus ex machina, but at least it was there. So... she gathered what had left of her strength, and she ran upstairs. She kept on running. Outside, into the peaceful morning. Somehow, she didn't know how, but nobody interrupted her escape. It was fine. She made it.

She collapsed in the middle of the street as she dialed the police. She couldn't help but wonder if she was burying herself into something even worse.

No. The quiet beeps ticked against her ear while she waited for a response. It couldn't get any worse.

[self-ships-ahoy]

My Heart in Your Hands

Saturday (Feb 13th) Heart / Soul / Confession

Summary: During the events of Mann vs. Machine, Technician faces her greatest fear for the good of her friends - and the love of her life.

Warnings: General depictions of surgery (nothing too graphic, but there is a lot of talk about Tech’s heart in the second half)

Word Count: 1,307

A/N: Ok...I am very very nervous about posting this fic. I had to scramble to find a good reason for Tech to have this surgery done (i.e. if lives were on the line), and I’m just always nervous when presenting my writings with Medic. I have seen quite a few people be critical about his depictions, if he’s ‘in character’ enough, and I was afraid of being met with that kind of criticism. But writing is supposed to be for fun, and IF I’m a little ooc with him, so what? I put a whole lot into this fic, and you’re going to really see the extent of their feelings, so I’m proud of it. (Also, about the end, I am totally one to use wordplay even if I’m just coming out of anesthesia, so yeah Tech is like that too.)

~ 💖 ~

     For as long as she could remember, Technician's greatest fear and weakness had been anything related to medical procedures. From the smell of a sterilized office to the mere sight of a needle, it all made her anxious at best and panic-stricken at worst. Everyone at the RED base knew this, since they heard how she ‘freaked out’ during her initial physical examination. Fortunately, although her phobias still remain, her reactions have started to become less severe over time, thanks in big part to her relationship with Medic. Forming a friendship, and later a romantic affair, with him helped her tolerance to her fear triggers greatly. Her desire to see him had her visiting the medbay often, where she soon became accustomed to many sights and smells of the lab. The doctor remained supportive of Technician working to overcome her fears, and he took an active role in the process. Still, Katie had a long way to go, and he knew that. He knew, by now, what kind of answer he would get to a proposed surgery, even though he only offered what was for her benefit. "It's very sweet that you care that much, but it's just not worth it to me." So, he would sigh in defeat and drop the subject, loving her too much to breach the boundaries she set.

     This pattern continued until 1971. Mann Co. was under siege by Grey Mann, effectively taking control from Saxton Hale with an army of robots. Both Red and Blu teams were hired to take back the company, so far with little avail. It all seemed pointless to Technician, at first, if not fortunate; this could be her ticket out of here, if she could convince Grey to fire her. Then the game changed. In an effort to drive the mercs away for good, Grey's forces managed to sabotage and shut down respawn - for good. Now, they could actually die. After so many years of being alone, Katie couldn't bear the thought of losing her friends. With Medic's new reviving invention still a work in progress, that thought could become a reality. She would do anything to keep them safe, even just to increase that chance by a fraction of a percentage. This was what she came to talk to Medic about, one quiet afternoon at the base.

     The two of them sat on the couch in his office. The programmer remained silent, a hesitant and apprehensive frown on her face. She had yet to reveal why she called Medic here, and the longer she waited, the more concerned he became. However, his patience was finite, and spending the whole day on this conversation could be time otherwise spent working on his invention. "Darling," he addressed her gently, but with seriousness, "Vhatever is troubling you, don't be afraid to tell me about it; I cannot help you if you don't tell me...nor do I have time to vait much longer."

     Technician's chest tightened, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. She couldn't wait forever. Sighing nervously, she began, "...I need you to...do something for me."

     "Anything," he answered without question.

     Another short pause. "I'm scared. I really think we could die out there..." She held his hand for support. "I can't lose you, Ludwig. You're the most important person in my life...and you're all my friends... You're the closest thing I have to family. So, I want to do whatever I can to help protect you."

     "...Vhat are you saying?"

     "...I want you to put Über in me."

     Medic couldn't believe what he heard. Technician seemed to have a knack for surprising him, but, understandably, this was a big deal. Thus far, she had refused every surgery offer presented to her, and now she comes to him and requests one? The man was no reader of emotions, but judging from the tension on her face, and how she squeezed his hand, it didn't seem like she was completely positive of the decision. Excited as he felt, he had to make sure they were on the same page, or he could lose her trust in him forever. "You are...absolutely sure of zhis?"

       Technician went quiet again before answering. "I don't know. But...I want to be. I don't want to be afraid of this, especially if it could help you stay alive. With how often I've fallen onto front lines, it could even protect me, too. But..."

     "If it's pain you're concerned about, I promise zhe pain medications I use, in addition to zhe medigun, vill decrease anything you feel down to manageable levels." He couldn't help but try to convince her to go through with it. Despite her indecision, he agreed with her points that supported the procedure; this could protect her and her friends, should she fall into danger. "You won't even need stitches," he added with a small smile.

     He was getting excited, she could hear it in his voice. Technician expected as much, but she had to finish. "It's not just about the pain. I just...I don't like operations, I never did. You know that... And...I wanted to make sure I could...trust you with it. And I do, now. It's just...hard."

     Medic's smile grew when he heard that he finally earned Technician's trust. That alone made him feel so accomplished. "I promise you, I vill handle zhe procedure vis as much care as I handle our fledgling doves. You have my word as a doctor - license or no." He tilted his head down to further meet her gaze. "Does zhat ease any of your fear?"

     "...Yeah. It does."

~~~

     On the day of the operation, Technician's friends all came to give their support. She was facing a great challenge for the good of the team, and for her own safety, a decision that they all could commend. Soldier told her she was making her country proud by pushing through the fear; Scout brought her some comic books to read for when she's in recovery; Sniper and Engineer pledged to stay by her bedside when she goes under and when she wakes up; even Spy said he would anticipate hearing her wake from a successful operation. Their faith and encouragement helped Technician move forward with this, and she kept their words and gestures in mind when nervously changing into her special hospital gown. Above all, she remembered all Medic promised to do for her, to keep her as comfortable as possible.

       Placing her jewelry in a plastic bag, her thumb brushed over the heart-shaped pendant of her necklace. That was a prized possession now, a symbol of how much she was cherished. As she stared at it, her mind began retracing every instance of Ludwig prioritizing her happiness. This...this was a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And why: because she knew she could entrust him with her very life, even on the operating table. She knew that if she asked him to do or not do something, he would take that request seriously. She's going to go into the operating room with full confidence that Medic will do nothing more than implant the Über device in a human heart. That was true love.

     Technician made her way to the hospital bed, and squeezed Dell's hand as the I.V. went in her wrist. As she settled down from that, Medic gleefully presented his patient with precautions he doesn't usually take during surgery, such as a clean pair of gloves and keeping Archimedes at a distance, so the dove doesn't get tempted to play assistant surgeon. In the time between now and the first Über implantation, Medic had even been experimenting with his invention to make it more efficient, i.e. less likely to overload the patient's heart and what not. There was a good chance that Technician could come out of this with her original heart in tact.

     At last, the time came for her to be put under anesthesia, per her request. Katie kept her eyes away from the sight, but listened to Medic's voice as she slipped into unconsciousness. "You'll be awake and feeling good as new in no time, my dear. Don't worry..." he told her calmly as he watched her drift off. Engineer and Sniper then left the room, and the procedure began.

     Everything was running well. Throughout the procedure, Medic talked to his patient as if she was awake, from making light (one-sided) conversation to commenting on each step he was taking. (He said she had very healthy ribs, for instance.) At last, Technician's heart was successfully removed and resting in the doctor's delicate hold. He was being timely about each step so far, never stalling or rushing; but here was when he began to pause, staring at his love's heart while the medigun kept her on life support. The power he felt was indescribable, surmounted only by the honor of being granted the chance to literally hold Katie's very life in his hands. He, too, understood the significance of being allowed to perform this surgery on her, the amount of trust it showed she had in him. There was excitement from finally getting to operate, yes, but...it had yet to truly sink in until this moment.

       As he cradled the tiny, life-giving muscle, a euphoria began to overtake him. This was more than just the thrill of practicing medicine; this was finally realizing the meaning of his beloved not only allowing, but asking without prompt, to partake in her greatest fear. The love she had for him was stronger than her fear and doubt, for she realized that he would never hurt her. And for all the love he felt for her, and how much closer he would feel to her if given the chance to do this, hearing her finally approve was his strongest wish. Ludwig was already sure he had found The One, but now - oh, now he was 100% positive and then some. His breathing cut short a couple times as his eyes began to well up. But, instead of crying, he began to laugh - slowly, quietly, then rising in strength with his elation. It was a laugh of pure joy, unlike anything else ever heard in the operating room.

~~~

     Awaking from the anesthesia was a slightly difficult task, only due to Technician's penchant for prolonging sleep. With the pain medication still in her system, she had almost forgotten for a moment that she had underwent surgery. But a growing echo of voices helped pull her out of her induced slumber.      

     "I think she's comin' to, doc. Hey, Tech, can ya hear us?"

     "Come on, mate..."

     "Vake up, meine geliebte~. Zhe surgery is all over now."

     The sing-song tones of Medic's call lured her out of her sleeping state, and cerulean eyes fluttered open to the sight of the doctor's beaming smile. To her left, Engineer and Sniper sat with their own happy expressions. Technician turned her gaze back to Medic, attempting to speak through her haze. "Did...everything..."

     "Everything vent perfectly, darling, visout a hitch." Medic answered her, "I hadn't completed a procedure zhat smoothly in years, heh." In truth, there had been one or two slight deviations in the plan - minor errors that he was able to work around, and certainly not worth mentioning to the tomophobic programmer. That being said, it was still one of Medic's more successful operations. "How do you feel?"

     She thought for a moment, hesitant to feel her heart in case she might feel the Über implant. "Strange...Tired... Chest feels tight. Is my heart okay?"

     Engineer spoke up with more words of reassurance, "Heart's a-OK, Techie. Doc said it survived the whole thing, no transplants 'r anything like that."

     "It vas remarkable to witness," Medic commented with glee, "For a heart of such small size, I vas expecting more resistance to zhe device. My upgrades must have made an even greater improvement zhan anticipated!"

     The corners of her lips began to curl as she heard the great news. Above all, she was worried about her heart needing to be replaced with something bizarre for the device to work. But, the doctor fulfilled his promises and kept her heart intact...as did another force unbeknownst to her. Should someone tell her of it, she would show no surprise at the fact.

     Facing Medic again, Technician inched her hand closer to him, a kind look in her sleepy eyes. "I knew you could do it... I was in good hands."

[calleo-bricriu]

I just blew apart the identities of a good 30-ish people on my mom’s side of the family, and it’s a brilliant, wonderful feeling.

There is backstory here, because it doesn’t make sense without it, so grab a snack and get reading. :)

I did the thing I'd sort of half-ass promised my mom I wouldn't do back when I had medical genetic testing done so insurance would cover a few things back in 2016.

That testing was the one where the genetic counselor asked me several times if I was "absolutely sure" I had no Ashkenazi ancestry and after the third time I got a cautious response of, "It's just that you have a lot of markers only found in those populations; the chances of them all being spontaneous mutations are next to zero." then moved on going over the rest of the results.

Insurance ended up covering what it needed to cover, and I had asked my mom about it as she's been really into tracing both sides of the family trees back as far as possible and it's been possible centuries back due to very good paper trails.

She didn't know what I meant by Ashkenazi which is fair enough as most people in the US only know the word because it shows up on medical forms as a yes/no checkbox.

"Jewish. The sort that wasn't just a conversion."

That got a LOOK, and not a confused one a vaguely frightened one and asked where I got that idea.

Told her I had to do medical genetic testing earlier in the year and the genetic counselor had mentioned it and told her in what context.

Got told to "leave it".

Whatever, I'd recently had fairly major surgery anyway so wasn't really in the mood to dig or push about it.

The next year my ex bought one of those "23 and me" type tests for me because I like completely useless things like that, and that one came back with a not insignificant amount labelled Ashkenazi in the mtDNA haplogroup, which would be on my mother's side.

I asked her about it again and showed her two genetic test results, one a formal medical one, and one that had matching genetics that was, you know, not a formal medical set of genetic testing.

Got told to leave it again.

Fine.

She'd also forgotten that she'd added an account I'd made on Ancestry so I could look through the family tree and all the scanned documents (parish records, birth, death, marriage certificates, immigration paperwork, etc...) because it all went back sometimes until the 1600s.

...and I noticed most of went back that far was on my dad's side or on really remote branches of my mom's side.

On her more closely related side, the family she had that emigrated over from Germany in the late 1800s went back to the 1700s, but she's Polish as well.

And the Polish branches stopped at 1930.

They were extensively documented in 1930, with birth certificates, parish records, and immigration papers as they'd all come over to the US from Poland--right around 1930.

For the hell of it, I saved copies of all of that documentation she'd uploaded, and also figured, hey, they're running a 'join for 3 months get a silly DNA kit!' thing, I'll do a third one.

Did a third one.

Got the same results.

Also found that it was less that there was somehow a convenient lack of parish records older than 1930, and parish records don't just disappear, parish records, especially from Europe, are typically very easy to find with minimal difficulty, but I couldn't even find these NAMES earlier than 1930, including the family names.

The thing is, my definitely influenced by being on the autism spectrum special interest period of history is 1900-1945.

One thing you remember, if you do enough more than casual reading, is one of the chief ways Jewish families both got out of Europe more easily AND into the United States more easily in the 1930s was paying to have entirely new identities forged.

New names, new notable dates in terms of births, marriages, etc, and parish records proving they were either Catholic or Protestant. Usually anyone coming from Poland would have gone with Catholic as that's one of Poland's major religions.

Any previous records that would indicate they were anything but Catholic was typically destroyed out of fear of it being dug up and used to deny emigration or immigration (and remember, the United States routinely turned away refugees fleeing Europe if they were found to be Jewish).

So, I went back.

This time, instead of asking, I took the paperwork I'd saved and printed with me, handed it to her, and said, "These are forged. They weren't Catholic. These aren't their names. Does anyone still alive have the older records?"

Her response was, "I thought I told you to leave it!"

"Does anyone alive still remember?"

"...no. Leave it alone."

Turns out, she'd figured it out based on the cutoff date of the records and knowing history in general, but never said anything because, as the conversation later brought up, "It'd throw too many people's identities into chaos." and reiterated multiple times that they converted which, technically true, but it really doesn't...count if you're forced into it out of fear of ending up dead.

That's also the side of the family that, even by 2017, I didn't speak to most of them unless forced to do so because they're a lot of very rural, very right wing, very openly neo nazi jackasses.

That last part? That part is important. That last conversation about it happened in late 2017.

My mother knows me well enough to know that the first set of thoughts through my head absolutely ran along the lines of, "I'm telling these assholes at the next family reunion because they deserve to have their entire belief system and sense of identity shattered."

Also, that's the side of the family when, back around 2012 or so, one of my definitely unpleasant cousins cornered me to talk about the "shared interest" we had in what that dumb motherfucker termed "world war 2" and got his nose broken by the cousin with purple hair and multiple tattoos for saying we had a lot in common so--saying I don't get along with that side of the family is kind of an understatement.

If they're not afraid I'll also break some bone they possess for existing within punching or steel toed boot kicking range, they openly dislike me, which is fine, it's a very mutual feeling.

And there was a long talk of, "Could you not? Just ignore them, they're stupid, but they're harmless." which was mostly "it's kind of a hassle when you physically assault one of your asshole cousins at a picnic".

By that point I rarely went to those things anyway as free food didn't make up for having to listen to them say words where I could hear them so, whatever, I told her I wouldn't say anything.

Most of them hadn't spoken to me in years anyway but a few of them stayed in spotty contact on Facebook and in an often not used outside of planning reunions group that they'd invited me to join partially so it looked like they were 'making an effort' and also because the place we use for those stupid family reunions is owned by my parents (and I'm also on the deed) so I'd be one of the few people that would have a legal right to tell them all they weren't allowed to be on the property.

I accepted the invitation, just never really paid attention to it because, again, I do not like these people on any level.

Turns out, this evening, I stopped thinking they were even remotely harmless and was reminded that they still existed because they started using that group as their apparent safe space to talk about their views on current events; it’s very possible they may have forgotten I was even in the group as they added me close to 3 years ago and I’ve never posted anything.

So, I’m sitting there after work, watching these absolute shitstain excuses for people be smug about some imagined ‘win’, and I decided to remind them I still exist.

My first, last, and only post to the group: "FYI, none of your grandparents were Catholic. They were all Jewish. You're all ethnically Jewish. See you in July! :)" posted all of my genetic test results, the family trees where they were all included because, shocker, we're all related, scans of the forged records with large notations over all the forged information, and left the group.

Blocked the rest of them, and let them blow my phone up for awhile with calls I didn't pick up, texts I didn't read, and voicemails I didn't listen to--and blocked their numbers as well.

Earlier in the evening I mentioned in Discord that I was probably going to hear from my mother about it and I did (they’d long since removed my dad from the group over the MAGA hats in the firepit thing that happened last July, and my parents share a Facebook account), but it was a short and lovely text exchange of:

"What did you do?"

"I told them."

"Oh. Well, they're all assholes anyway. We should be back on Friday."

Also, nobody is going to see them in July because LAST July after they turned up after my parents told them there wasn't going to be a reunion due to Covid, about 30 of them showed up and that was the summer that I got the text from my mom asking if I was going to stop by.

"How many MAGA hats are out in the yard?"

"Hang on, I'll ask your dad."

20 minutes later:

"About a dozen."

"How many would I be able to throw in the fire pit before it'd cause an issue?"

"Hang on, I'll ask your dad."

20 minutes later, and a reminder for those who don't know, my dad is 6'8", built like a tank even in his 70s, and has a white beard down to his waist (Pointless bonus: When he was younger it was orange and his hair was a slightly darker orange than his dad’s was.). Ex-Navy Vet, took a fish bait he was grinding hooks on to the EYE a couple years ago and just sort of calmly walked upstairs to say, “I think I need you to drive me to the ER.” to my mom (whose response was to start laughing and tell him she TOLD him to put safety goggles on so they’re both a little...odd.) about it, not generally the sort of person anyone wants to even begin to fuck with despite the fact that he’s incredibly calm and even tempered:

"8 and they all left about five minutes ago."

[lightsupinthenorth]

Read on AO3 

TW: mentions of child abuse and medical procedure

*

Billy really wants to skip school today. Well, he kind of always does, but usually the idea of seeing Steve Harrington gives him enough incentive to get out of bed even if the prospect of sitting trough a whole day of classes is less than satisfactory. That day, though, even Steve Harrington is not enough.

Billy pissed off his father last night, and he took a mean kick to the ribs for it. As a result, his left side hurts like a bitch, he didn’t sleep well, and he’s so exhausted that when he finally gets up, he sees black spots dancing in front of his eyes and he nearly falls to the floor, his legs as consistent as jelly.  

He’ll never survive the morning periods, let alone basketball practice this afternoon. Billy sighs. This day is going to suck. There’s no doubt about that. He’s got to make his peace with the fact and power through, because he cannot skip, no matter how hard he wants to. His father is particularly intransigent these days, and Billy doesn’t need to give him any more reason to be angry.

So, he takes a quick shower, he skips breakfast, and before he realizes it, he’s sitting at his usual back row desk in his English lit class, feeling miserable as hell and trying to hide it.

“Who pissed in your cereals this morning, Hargrove?”

Okay, so the “hiding” part of it isn’t a success, apparently.

“Fuck off, Harrington, I’m a real ray of sunshine.” Billy says.

Steve and he have been friendly since Billy apologized for bashing his face in. Now is not the time to needle Billy, though, and Harrington would better be aware of that, lest it get messy again.

“Oh sure! Just a very grumpy looking one. You shouldn’t scowl that hard, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

It only makes Billy scowl harder. Steve smiles his brightest smile at him, for whatever strange reason, and it makes Billy relax slightly.

Thankfully, the teacher arrives before Steve has time to ask anything else.

Billy avoids the cafeteria at lunch. He’s got no food, nor does he have money to buy some. He knows Steve would get him something without him even needing to ask for it, but he’s not hungry anyway, so it would be rather pointless.

When Billy enters the changing room, Steve is already there, and of course he mentions it. He’s a mother hen like that.

“I didn’t see you at lunch. Did you manage to eat something? I have granola bars if you want.”

“I did eat.” Billy lies, “but thanks for the offer, Pretty boy.”

“No problem.” Steve smiles brightly again.

Billy is lightheaded already from exhaustion and lack of food, Steve doesn’t need to add to it. How rude.

“Are you sure you’re okay, though? You look a little pale.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Yes, mom, I’m fine.”

Look, another lie! Way to go, Billy.

“Fuck off. You’re a disaster, someone has to look after your ass.”  

Billy flips him the bird half-heartedly before putting his shorts on.

During practice, he insists on playing shirts, for once, so the bruise on the left side of his abdomen doesn’t raise any question. He shouldn’t have bothered, though. Barely three minutes later, he’s entirely out of fuel already and must take a break. He then makes the mistake of getting back into the match, only to be hit in the stomach with the ball and nearly faint.

“Hargrove, you’re out of it, what’s wrong with you?”

Billy assures he’s fine, but he’s slurring his words, so obviously the coach doesn’t believe him.

“Go sit down, go to the nurse, whatever, just stop playing. I don’t want you fainting on the court.”

Billy grumbles, but he obeys nonetheless. He doesn’t have enough energy to put up a fight right now.  

He goes to the showers, and it’s all peachy until he slips on the wet tile and bumps his head on the wall. He regains consciousness to Steve leaning over him, looking freaked.

“What are you doing here?” Billy mumbles.

“I wanted to check if you were okay. Seems like it was good instinct on my part.” Steve says.

“Come on, let’s get you off the floor.”

It’s a strenuous process, and Billy can’t hold a groan in as pain flares up his side, but Steve does manage to get him back to his feet. He only then notices he’s naked, which is very embarrassing.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, pointing the nasty bruise on Billy’s torso.

“Nothing.”

“Uh, don’t bullshit me, Hargrove.”

“Calm your tits, princess, I am fine.”

Steve scoffs.

“Oh yeah, sure, you just fainted in the showers and you’ve looked half-dead all day. You’re the perfect picture of ‘fine’.”

Billy goes back to scowling, because the truth is not pleasant to hear, and Steve is serving it to him and forcing him to stop ignoring it. Again, rude.

“I’m just tired.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“Oh, you’re an expert on health matters now, Harrington?”

Steve huffs.

“No, you smart ass, but we have a perfectly competent school nurse, you could go to her, you know. Just to make sure.”

“Pass.”

“No.”

Billy glares at him.

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, I won’t let you decide. Your decision making is shit. I’m deciding right now, and I say you’re going to the nurse.”

The nerves of that guy.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Billy’s going for angry, but his voice is so weak he just sounds petulant.

“Okay then! I’m telling you what I am going to do. I am going to take you to the nurse to get checked out even if I have to drag you there!”

Steve, unlike Billy, has no trouble sounding furious. His eyes are glaring daggers at Billy, his hands are clenched into fists, and his chest is heaving with how worked up he is. Billy would probably get a hard-on if he weren’t so tired. It’s a good thing he doesn’t, because he’s still very much naked.

“Stop treating me like one of your kids! I can take care of myself.” Billy says through gritted teeth.

He doesn’t want to admit defeat, even if he recognizes he’s in the wrong. His pride can’t take it.

“You obviously can’t!” Steve yells.

There are a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, and then Steve’s anger seems to deflate. He sighs.

“Look, I’m really worried. Would you please, please, just go to the nurse with me? I’ll owe you one.”

And isn’t it just like Steve, to make it seem like Billy’s doing him a favor by taking care of himself? Great, now Billy feels bad. He could deal with angry Steve, but he’s no match against pleading Steve with his puppy eyes.

“Okay, fine… Just let me get dressed and we’ll go.”

It takes Billy forever to put on his jeans and T-shirt. He slips on his sneakers and is planning on leaving the laces undone, but Steve won’t have it and bends down to tie them for him. Steve is on his knees in front of Billy… and here he thought Steve was trying to help him, not kill him.

It turns out Steve was right to pester Billy about consulting a health professional, because he ends up in the hospital to get surgery for a ruptured spleen. It’s going to cost a small fortune, and Neil’s not going to be happy, but it’s his fault so he’s not allowed to bitch about it.

Steve is there for him until he gets taken to the operating room. And, God knows how long after the surgery, Billy wakes up to Steve holding his hand.

When he realizes Billy is awake, Steve tries to take his hand away, but Billy holds it in place. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, after clearing his throat.

“Sure.” Billy croaks. “I’m sure it’s a pretty standard operation, Pretty boy. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Shut up. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry…” he mutters.

“Don’t apologize… even if you were being particularly stubborn, it’s not like it’s your fault you ruptured your spleen.” Steve says, running his thumb on the back to Billy’s hand.

“About that…” he goes on, “I overheard the nurses talking… and uh… they mentioned domestic violence.”

“What about it?” Billy asks defensively, tensing up.

“Well… feel free to tell me to fuck off, but…”

Billy scoffs. As if he needed Steve’s permission to tell him to fuck off.  

“Is it true?” Steve finishes, his whole expression radiating concern.

“What do you think? That I got into a fight in some bar on a Monday night?”

And really, Billy doesn’t mean to be that prickly. It’s just a subconscious and desperate attempt at preventing the walls he built around himself from crumbling down.

However, the sad look Steve gives him is enough to make his attempt fail tremendously and annihilate the said walls until Billy is laid bare, defenseless.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just… stay with me, please?” Billy hasn’t sounded that vulnerable since he last was on the phone with his mother, begging her to come back for him.

“Of course.” Steve squeezes his hand. “I meant, what more can I do?”

“Nothing. You being there is enough.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced, but he thankfully doesn’t argue.

“Oh wait, there might be something.”

“What?” Steve looks ready to burn Hawkins to ashes and throw down the entire government if Billy asks him to.  

Billy won’t ask that of him, though. He’d never do anything to taint Steve.

“Could you get me some water.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Sure. I was thinking of something a bit more substantial, though.”

“Oh, look at you, using big words!” Billy mocks.

“You just woke up from surgery, how are you already so annoying?”

“That’s one of my many talents.”

“I hate you sometimes.” Steve says in a deadpan voice.

“No, you don’t.”

Steve answers Billy’s teasing grin with a pout.

“No, I don’t.”

Billy cackles in triumph.

“What about that water, Pretty boy?” he then adds.

It’s not even to be a pain in the ass. He really is thirsty.

“Shit, sorry!” Steve replies, letting go of Billy’s hand to go fetch him something to drink.

Billy watches him with a fond smile as he exits the room. His life still sucks, but it sucks a bit less now that Steve is in it.

[softnaruto]

I haven't seen any character x character (none that you've posted anyways) and I've been loving the ones you've made so far. So is it okay if I ask for a crack ship I've noticed recently? Tobirama x Sakura. Fluff with the whole idea that Tobirama finally has someone knowledgeable he could relate with and as much of a workaholic as he is in her respective profession. Thank you if you would considerel making this :)

The Workaholics

author’s note: hi hi ! this was SO MUCH FUN to write! sakura and Tobirama really are the “I-say-i-hate-you-but-i-will-prepare-you-a-feast” couple. thank you so much for requesting! I hope you like it!

also it was really long so, more below the cut! 

pairings: tobirama x sakura

words: 1281

genre: fluffy!

warnings: crack ships, lol.

OFF THE BAT, let me just say, I never thought about Tobirama and Sakura together due to the, you know, decades of “life” between them.

BUT, let me also say that I actually could see them together!

Let’s start off with a couple of facts:

Sakura feels as if she’s often the only responsible one in Team 7 (yes, I AM taking about that one time where Naruto wanted to fight Sai and Sakura was trying to make up for it but ended up punching the hell out of Sai)

Tobirama, on the other hand, always feels as if HE has to do something because his idiot (CUTE) brother, Hashirama, is always dreaming about things that are just UNREALISTIC

Sakura is constantly nagging at Naruto to you know, stop being an idiot, and Tobirama is always nagging at Hashirama to stop being an idiot too.

Sakura is strong and she knows what she wants WHEN she wants it (Can we talk about the STRENGTH she has? Both physically and emotionally?)

She is someone that will tell you when she finds something annoying or that makes her uncomfortable, and she won’t try and sugar coat it either.

Tobirama is the same way, except he often leaves his feelings out of everything in his life and I feel that Sakura’s honesty would go well with that.

Sakura is independent, which is something that I believe would attract Tobirama because he does NOT have time to go around babysitting his lover. I mean could you imagine Tobirama running after his wife with the whole, “Baby, did you eat?” Yeah, no. (If he did do that, Sakura would probably sucker punch him too.)

Okay, now that we’ve established that Sakura and Tobirama are the #yourfeelingsarehurt?toobad power couple, let’s begin with the actual relationship!

Actually, Sakura and Tobirama are pretty fluffy around each other.

If somehow they both ended up leaving work early (around… let’s say, 2AM,) they would find themselves somehow eating dinner together in the couch. A small blanket would be laying on their laps with a bowl of leftovers. They would talk about their day with the TV on a random channel, the soft buzz from the TV creating a peaceful hum. After Sakura would finish, she would place her head on Tobirama’s shoulder, closing her eyes for a second while Tobirama talked about how difficult being the Hokage was and how he had to take over all of Hashirama’s prior work.

Sakura would nod, listening to him, before Tobirama would then stop talking, allowing her to vent. She would begin to explain how she was all caught up at the hospital and how annoying people were in general.

“Working in a hospital is kissing ass AND convincing patients that you KNOW what you’re talking about as if I haven’t had years of experience!”

Tobirama would sit in silence, before agreeing with Sakura and badmouthing some patients, making her laugh.

If they were to have a free day, you BET they are going to sleep in. At the beginning of their relationship, Tobirama would refuse to sleep in and cuddle because he found it pointless. Now? Tobirama is the one pulling Sakura IN.

“Tobirama—” “You work too hard, just sleep a bit more, yeah?”  

Tobirama supports Sakura no matter what, let’s be real. He understands what it feels like to not be supported (considering he is the Hokage and note everyone in the village agrees with him) and although he is having to always argue about his beliefs and decisions as a leader, he never wants Sakura to feel as if she has to argue to prove her point.

If she says that she wants to quit her job, well, that’s okay! Tobirama will still nag a bit, but after he remembers that she’s an adult and that she knows what she’s doing, he quits and tells her (HOURS LATER) that he supports her.

He knows how hard it is to prove yourself to others and he never wants Sakura to feel as if she’s not seen. Any little thing Sakura does, Tobirama acknowledges. He may not acknowledge it with words, but he will definitely let her know that he’s always noticing her.

If she completed a difficult surgery that took up to 24 hours? She’ll wake up to the breakfast he left for her before leaving for work, with a little note on the fridge saying, “Proud of you.”

Sakura is the same way. If Tobirama has to leave the next day for a meeting with the Feudal Lord, she always makes sure to pack a little something for him in his bag. It’s always something random; one of her horrid energy balls/bites, a small slice of a pie she had bought earlier, a cookie, a note saying how she loved him, the list goes on.

She usually waits until he’s about to leave (not caring if she’s late to work bc lets be real, Sakura knows she just won’t ever get fired, lol #datingthehokagecheck ) and makes sure to let him know that she will just be so ANGRY if anything happens to him.

“IF YOU DIE ON ME—”

“I’m not dying, Sakura.”

“TOBIRAMA I SWEAR TO GO—” Tobirama usually kisses her after she beings to swear (it’s a frequent thing)

O h ! Kisses! Let’s talk about kisses.

Tobirama is a MAN (btw, being a man does not necessarily depend on these factors, but Tobirama is an old-school person who likes to seem so… stereotypical in front of the public) and he just doesn’t want to seem soft in any way in front of ANYONE. But inside their house? You know Tobirama expects a kiss from Sakura the minute she steps inside.

He LOVES good morning kisses, good night kisses, I love you kisses, I AM jealous but I won’t admit it kisses, I know you’re working but I still love you even though you won’t pay attention to me, and ultimately, make up kisses.

Skipping over to Tobirama; he finally feels so understood when he begins dating Sakura. He no longer has to fight for his job or how much time his job takes away from his daily life because Sakura loves her job as much as he does. He knows that all he has to do is call Sakura or meet up with her and explain that he’s working late; he loves the simplicity of it.

Sakura understand Tobirama on a completely different level than anyone has before. If Tobirama is struggling with work, Sakura wouldn’t try and pry him off of it (that would just cause even more frustration because he’s not working on it.) Instead, she would sit by him as she worked on her own paperwork and would try to encourage him to finish it.

Teamwork makes the dream work, right?

With Sakura and Tobirama, it’s ALL about teamWORK.

They have no boundaries with their work, but they keep each other in check. Sakura will force Tobirama to go to bed if he ends up staying up all night working, and Tobirama will DRAG Sakura to their home if she plans on adding too many grave-yard shifts to her schedule.

They just keep each other healthy… in their own way. (Eating instant food while working non-stop and sleeping on top of each other in their couch)

OVERALL,

Although they may not look like they have things in common from an outsider’s perspective, the mutual understanding and love that they have for one another is like no other. They are able to know what is happening without speaking much and are known to keep a healthy relationship with one another despite often working nonstop. 

[honkmybulge]

A prideful and passionate docterror has gone in for surgery on a patient she has been taking care of for a while. It's moved past the professional and into the realm of friendship, the docterror visiting the patient during her off hours. This patient has been in and out of the clinic multiple times, fighting off their rather acute issues with his matesprit at his side, the three of them growing closer all the while. Something goes wrong in the patient's vascular system, and their practicing caregiver is rushed to save them. Snips of sinew and chunks of cartilage detached and replaced with something less damaged, something that can hold him together, allow her friend to stay just a while longer-

But the docterror fails.

Our scene begins in a hivestem ill-fitting the prestige of the noble docterror. Many of the occupants have evacuated this floor, a cacophony of rage and violence echoing the halls with a warning. As the camera glides down the hall and comes to a halt, we can hear voices carrying loud from inside.

"What do you want me to say? Huh?" Something thuds from inside the block. "That I'm sorry?! Well I'm not! I did everything I could and he. Still. Died." The word is punctuated by the sound of glass shattering. It covers the pained crack in her voice, the rage and the pointlessness.

We can hear the patient's matesprit say something in a voice gravelly from crying, or screaming, or both, but it's difficult to make out from behind the door, and it is soon interrupted by the docterror shouting over them. "I don't care! I don't care what he wanted, what about what I wanted?! What about... you..."

It goes quiet for a moment after that. It's more obvious now that the docterror has been crying too, the way her voice wobbled under the fury. The camera finally enters the block proper, coming upon a blueblood still in her bloodied coat, her face buried in her hands. She is seated on the edge of a loungeplank that has been shredded at the arm. There's a broken table nearby. It's dark, the lamp having been shattered against the wall. Her shoulders are shaking in a way that looks like pain, but that too is quiet.

A yellowblood is standing in front of her with fists curled at their sides, watching the docterror stiffly. His knuckles are bloodied, face stained and hard. After a moment, his grip loosens, and he makes a decision. He comes to sit at her side on the plank, and he begins to rub her back.

The docterror looks up at him, eyes bruised with tears. "What are you doing? I don't understand. ...Don't you... hate me?"

The yellowblood sucks in a breath, hesitating. "No... I don't hate you."

She stares into his eyes for a moment, emotions bubbling up into the loss and the pain on her face. Hope, uncertainty, and then finally... disbelief. She swats his hands away. "Liar!" He puts his hands right back, reaching for her face as if to pap her.

"Stop it! Stop touching me!" She pulls back from the yellowblood, but he follows her, climbing on top of her body in order to pet gentle fingers at the side of her head. "I said stop!!"

The docterror rounds on him with her superior strength, slamming the yellowblood down to the ground with enough force to stun him, pained and gasping on the floor. She mounts him, wrapping cold hands around his throat, snarling with hate. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you too, just like I killed him!"

He struggles underneath her, weakly, expression strained as he grabs her cool hands under his warm ones. "No-" he croaks-

"Yes!" she shouts over him in a frenzy, "I will! I'll-"

"No!" he wheezes more firmly, panting and heaving his command. It's hard to do, but he looks her dead in the eye, gripping her wrists tightly, skin flushed with a need for oxygen. The fight in his body goes out of him, legs no longer straining to escape. "You... won't." His hands loosen, shakily, to touch hers more gently. "You... loved him... too. You're here-"

Tears prickle pale and yellow in his eyes, and the docterror's grip goes suddenly slack. He gasps and coughs from the floor, touching gingerly at his throat. The blueblood is pinning him with weight alone.

The camera is zoomed in on his face as he chokingly regains his breath, heavy lashes fluttering and gaze half-lidded. Translucent blue droplets fall onto his face, sliding down his cheek and chin. We couldn't hear her crying, and we still cannot. "I'm sorry," comes a thin voice from above, her cold hand rushing to shake and smooth away the wet from the yellowblood's face. The view turns to her now, cracked wide open and distraught. She sobs once, nearly silent. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

We pan out. The yellowblood is reaching for her, and she scoops him up, brings them both back to the loungeplank. She's cradling him close, weeping, and when he reaches for her face this time, the docterror doesn't shy away. The camera is intimately close to the side of her face when his palm meets her damp skin, and she leans into the pap. He rubs his thumb there, and shooshes softly.

"...He's gone," she says with such pitiful weakness in her normally powerful voice. "What are we... supposed to do?"

She's watching him as though the world has fallen to light as he adjusts himself in her lap. "I dunno. Just... this, I guess..."

He sniffles and leans his head on her shoulder. The proud blueblood lingers in her uncertainty, until she too leans her head over his. Her claws graze his face too carefully, and then less carefully, palm opening to him like a bloom. "...Just this," she affirms.

They stay there for a while, learning how to touch one another and how to be touched, a gentle montage of tender contact and sad eyes. The docterror bandages her new moirail's wounded fingers with graphic care, each brush of soothing drawn sensually out, and he reassures her, the both of them expressing and sharing the burdon of their loss in one another.

End scene.

SHIT

THIS IS ILLEGAL

fuckin

fine you get a hundred

shit you can't just be that salacious for that long how fuckin long does tumblr let these be now motherFUCK

fuckin

you're supposed to be horny this is cheatin

[spell-cleaver]

Luke sat down before he reached for the buzzer on his comlink to summon Lord Vader. Standing still exhausted him and showcasing his weakness would do him no good. Not when he was on thin ice already, outright testing Vader’s proclaimed loyalty.

Set in this Luke Palpatine AU.

The now-necessary masterpost is here!

Vader came quickly, and without hesitation. Of course he did. He’d argued about Luke sending him to the other side of the vast palace in the first place, citing assassination attempts and protection and advice, but Luke was not taking Vader’s advice. He had no idea why the man hadn’t already slaughtered him and seized his crown, public relations be damned.

It wasn’t like Vader had a history of caring about them, after all. Luke’s father had been the only one who could keep him in line.

When there was a firm knock on the door, that crown sat heavy on his head as he lifted his chin to call, “Come in.” The Rebel attack on the Imperial cruiser had left shrapnel embedded all down his back and the backs of his legs. It’d missed his spine, mercifully, but the injuries and the long days of surgery to extract them had taken their toll, and his neck twinged with the weight of that thin gold circlet.

He understood why he had to wear it. He really did. He was ridiculously young for this, to sit in meetings and look Lord Vader in the eye and make decisions that would affect the entire galaxy; people needed to be able to see the Emperor in him.

Even if Luke couldn’t see it himself. 

His father had had a commanding presence. He could freeze you in place; make you want, with every inch of yourself, to please him; rule with the mercy needed for manipulation and also the force needed for obedience.

Luke was weak, and soft, and useless. His father had been right.

Vader, in the few training sessions his father had forced him to give, had been right.

So Luke had to take this course of action, because he had no idea why Vader strode into the room and knelt to him even without the tension and reluctance there had always been when he’d knelt to Luke’s father. Vader had despised him, for so long. Why—

“My emperor,” Vader said smoothly.

Luke swallowed. He didn’t like having Vader tower over him—especially when he was sitting down and couldn’t stand up—but he liked seeing such a large man kneeling to him even less. “Rise,” he said softly. Vader did so, but hesitantly—as if he could hear the uncertainty in Luke’s voice.

Sense it in the Force.

He’d always been able to batter down Luke’s shields with ease.

Luke took in a few deep breaths, and reached for one of the datapads stacked high on his desk. There were so many to go through, all with some pointless bickering or bureaucracy; he was sure his father hadn’t handled them on his own, had probably delegated them to Amedda and various aides, but until the transfer of power was complete and his authority consolidated, he couldn’t afford to trust anyone to handle petty things for him. (It didn’t help that Vader had had Amedda and several others executed while he was in the medbay, for killing Luke’s father.)

At least, he was pretty sure that was what would be advised—what Nova would advise. And he trusted his old nursemaid more than anyone.

He wished she would come back.

He used his grip on the datapad to steady his hands and cut straight to the point: “I need you to go to Eriadu, Lord Vader.”

As expected, Vader immediately balked at that. If he was resistant to being on the other side of the palace to Luke—

“Your Majesty, Eriadu is in the Outer Rim.”

“I am aware of that, Lord Vader.” Luke raised an imperious eyebrow, the only expression he allowed on his face. He had never made his father proud, but he could always at least strive to make him satisfied with Luke’s conduct. “Grand Moff Tarkin vanished off to his homeworld the moment the coronation was complete, and he was one of the most powerful officials in my father’s empire.” Vader tensed at that; it was expected, so Luke didn’t bother to address it. He’d calculated that Tarkin was the most likely person for Vader to ally with if he wanted the throne for himself—they’d worked together often and successfully—so this… this was a test of loyalty.

Destroy his aspiring ally, and consolidate Luke’s power. Obey Luke, as he’d sworn to, and give up his constant monopoly over his immediate personal space.

“Tarkin has control over a great many of my father’s pet projects. I believe he will bring them to bear against my government if I ever threaten his standing in the elite, and I will not suffer such a challenge. I want you to eliminate him.”

Vader was silent for a very, very long time. Luke was about to snap did you not swear to obey me? when he growled, “Project Stardust.”

Luke didn’t know what that was. He did know that it would be a terrible idea to admit that. “Exactly. If you truly want to serve me, Lord Vader, I need you to fulfil this task.”

“I cannot leave you vulnerable, my emperor.”

“I am sending a communiqué to my old nursemaid and bodyguard. Hopefully she will return to assist me with certain things.” With everything, Force, he’d never needed Nova so badly.

She’d been the only one who was nice to him, she’d been his governess and raised him since his father had adopted him, she’d protected him and reassured him when he’d confided in her. She’d been his mother in all that mattered, and he loved her.

He would understand if she didn’t want to come back—she’d left the palace on suspicion of treason—but he’d already had the charges dropped, and he hoped…

“Sabé,” Vader rumbled.

Luke tensed. “Her name is Nova.”

“Her real name was Sabé—one of your birth mother’s handmaidens.” Luke fought the urge to stare at that; how did Vader know, and why would he drop that knowledge so flippantly? “I recognised her the moment she applied for the job. At the same, I didn’t understand why she did so. I do now.”

Luke didn’t have the faintest idea what that was supposed to mean.

“If Tarkin intends to bring his projects to bear against you, action needs to be taken, and taken quickly,” Vader continued. Luke narrowed his eyes at him minutely. “I will of course you as you bid—but please, Your Majesty, allow me to stay to protect you until Sabé returns to the palace.”

So he was willing to leave Luke with a bodyguard of Luke’s choice—or rather, someone Luke had chosen that he knew—but not alone. At least, not alone with his father’s old followers and Inquisitors.

Interesting.

“Very well, Lord Vader.” Luke allowed himself a sigh, then reached for the next datapad. There were always more to take care of. “I will consider your request.”

His father had taught him that: always make sure you hold the cards in your dealings with people. Never allow them to feel in control, unless you plan to take advantage of it. To dominate, make sure they know you dominate.

Luke had never been very good at domination.

“Now, I believe this military insurgency in Imperial City is under your jurisdiction to deal with…”

Send me the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write you the next five few!

Or, since I’m getting really invested in this AU and have a whole lot of ideas that I hope will see the light of day, send me the first sentence of a scene that could fit into it and give me an excuse to continue!

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