#the emotional damage he dealt isn’t enough

[mismatchsocks]

“will was so mean to hannibal when he-“ he should’ve killed that man

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Part 1 and 2 of Morticia Reader with Yandere Rudra (Gomez 2.0), Tesla (Gomez 3.0), Shiva (+Wives), Hercules (Gomez 4.0), Thor, Lu Bu, Indra, Ares (Gomez 5.0), Hermes and Sasaki (I can see him screaming he gives up in part 2 and tries to run)

I also bet a 100 bucks Reader would scare Shiva and his wives with her stamina (Along with everyone else, questioning if she’s actually Human)

-Beautiful, dark, deadly, passionate, loving, unique, all were words used to describe you and all of them were true.

-You were like the moon against the dark night sky, surrounded by pitch black darkness, bright but eerie and quiet.

-You found enjoyment in the dark and macabre, but to you, they were normal, beautiful things, skulls, poisonous flowers, dangerous plants, death, how lovely.

-Many thought you were odd by the way you dressed and carried yourself, always wearing elegant black gowns paired with matching jewelry with spider or coffin motifs. However, sometimes you would wear different colors when it was warmer out, just a slightly lighter shade of black with an umbrella, you didn’t need any unwanted color in your complexion.

-Your tone was always even and deadpan, never showing emotions the way others do, so nobody could ever tell if you were joking or not about feeding someone to your kitty-cat, an actual lion that you kept around who was like a housecat with you and those he knew, but vicious and violent with strangers.

-Many made comments that you would be attractive if you were ‘normal’ but where’s the fun in that? It’s much more fun to keep others guessing- keeping them on your toes.

-Speaking of keeping others on their toes, if anyone was to visit your private greenhouse, they would need to watch where they step or risk losing a few.

-Your garden was notorious for being filled with poisonous and carnivorous plants, and not just little things like little Venus Fly Traps, no you had a giant 4 ½ foot one that would eat people if they got close enough if you hadn’t fed them yet!!

-However, due to their healthy fear of your garden, you didn’t have many visitors, which you liked, less of a risk of your babies getting trampled or damaged.

-Your lover liked you the way you were, you were unapologetically unique, and he loved it, you were so different from other women and that’s what drew him to you.

-At first he did think you were a little odd, intimidating was a word he liked to use, as you weren’t afraid to speak your mind and there was always an air around you, a silent warning, but as time went on, he fell hard for you.

-Rudra- Found you absolutely stunning, you were unapologetically different, something he admired deeply about you, you didn’t care what others thought about you, but you were also kind to them in return, offering kind words instead. He liked that you were calm, as he needed someone calm because he dealt with enough with Shiva’s antics and you were the perfect partner. He could just come while you were reading or knitting and kneel before you and lay his head on your lap and stay there for hours if you let him. He was respectful to you and demanded the same from others, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw hands with anyone who would dare insult you in front of him, even if you do tell him it isn’t needed.

-Nikola- He was a bachelor all his life back on earth, finding women to be something unobtainable, believing he would never be good enough for them, and when he first laid eyes upon you, he almost collapsed to his knees. You were beautiful- the very definition of perfection itself, he couldn’t look away from you. When you saw this stranger on his knees outside your garden, you came over to inquire if he was alright, thinking he had been poisoned by one of your babies before he tried to speak, but only a sound like a deflating balloon came out. He ran off, red-faced and leaving you confused, but you quickly understood when he returned the next day with a bouquet of red roses, unable to look you in the eye. He was rather cute, being so flustered, but you made it worse by taking his arm, asking him to walk with you around your garden. He would follow you into the pits of hell if you asked him to.

-Shiva + Wives- All four of them were thrown off by you at first, you were so different, so unique, but so ethereal looking, and Shiva led the charge, wanting to know more about you. Kali instantly liked you, seeing your home and garden, seeing all of the dangerous and poisonous plants you had in your gardens, and you grew close to her after learning she was a goddess of death. Parvati was a little slower to warm up to you, a bit intimidated by you, but she quickly learned that you were so elegant and gentle and while she was your opposite, the two of you got along easily. Durga found you hysterical, your sense of humor never failed to make her laugh after saying, “I long to be looked at like all women to, with fear in the eyes of men.” Shiva was instantly taken with you, wanting to make you his fourth wife. Shiva loved you the way you were, he wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but at the same time, he appreciated that you wouldn’t make him or his wives change for you either. You all had your own hobbies and likes and if they wanted to learn, you would teach them, and in turn, they would teach you when you would ask.

-Hercules- He actually met you thanks to your kitty cat, your precious cat had gotten out and Hercules returned him to you, after reading the tag on his collar. While initially worried about you, as you seemed to be a petite woman, he was stunned when he saw your vicious and violent lion turn into a total cuddly baby with you. Hercules was curious about you, wanting to know more about you, you looked so different compared to other people, dressing in all black, even in summer, and snipping blossoms off your roses, only wanting to keep the thorns. You had an air of mystery around you, one that seemed to grab him by the neck, dragging him into your web of darkness, but he was happy to follow you, wanting more of the mystery you were offering.

-Thor- Met you through Loki, after Thor mentioned he was looking for a plant that was poisonous, but was used to make a rare medicine, and Odin asked him to find some of this plant. Loki knew you would be the best person to come to and when they found themselves outside your greenhouse, Thor froze, seeing you for the first time. You were so dark and mysterious but there was something else about you, something dangerous, but you were calm and elegant, even when you shooed Loki away from pestering your carnivorous plants, “If you lose a finger I won’t be patching you up again.” Loki pouted up at you, “Don’t be so cold Y/N~~” Thor was the one who tossed the troublemaker out and you were a bit surprised but offered a small smile, “Now then, you mentioned you were after something in my garden?” Thor nodded, taken by your calm and stoic nature.

-Lu Bu- He had met a lot of weird people in his life and when he first saw you, you quickly went to nearly the top of the list. You were dressed like you were mourning someone, you surrounded yourself with weird curiosities and carnivorous plants and a freaking lion!! He had never met a woman like you before, however… you piqued his interest. He wanted to know more about you, finding himself insnared by you, you were kind and polite with him, finding his lust for combat admirable, as he liked to fight. You weren’t like other women who would panic and faint at the sight of blood, you seemed to enjoy it, finding beauty in death. You sure were weird, but you were very beautiful, and Lu Bu quickly grew attached to you, not wanting to let you go.

-Indra- He had no idea there was a woman like you out there, you looked so gloomy and elegant all at the same time, you were so beautiful, but also intimidating. He could see how other men would look at you in fear, but you seemed to love it, crave it even, and Indra was the only man brave enough to approach you. He fell quickly for you, you were mysterious, elegant, and insanely beautiful, you were also well worded, you could hold conversations for hours with him, and you were able to keep his attention. He was notorious for having a short attention span, he would lose interest quickly, you were the first woman who grabbed him by the neck and held on tightly and you weren’t letting him go, not that he wanted you to.

-Ares- He saw you walking around under the pale moon, holding a black lace umbrella over you, shielding yourself from the rays. You looked like a demoness, dark, beautiful, and deadly and Ares couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He followed after you, following down the pathway after you and before his brain could comprehend what he was doing, he called out to you. You were so pale, so beautiful, you looked like the moon itself against the night sky, he instantly felt his throat go dry as he stammered before you, trying to form his words. When you smiled he instantly fell for you, and you quickly grew fond of this giant man, he was affectionate and loyal, he reminded you of a dog, but Ares quickly wormed his way into your heart.

-Hermes- Adored you, you were beautiful, mysterious and incredibly intimidating, how could he not love you?! Zeus found you to be a bit odd, but Hermes adored you, he found you relaxing to be around. The two of you could talk for hours about music and books, comparing teas and baked goods, and the two of you just vibed with each other. Hermes loved spending time with you, especially in your gardens, as you taught him how to tend to your precious babies, however, he was still hesitant about dealing with your kitty cat. Hermes loved to waltz with you, putting on music and he would happily dance the day away with you, feeling the happiest when he had you in his arms.

-Kojiro- When he first met you, Kojiro’s first words to you were, “Are you a demon?” which just made you laugh while he was red faced, stuttering out apologies to you, however you weren’t upset, you were flattered by his words, telling him that they were lovely. He was taken aback by your words, seeing that you weren’t bothered, and he quickly grew more curious about you, wanting to know more about you. You were gentle and kind, but also very wise and mysterious and he found himself wanting to be by your side at all times. Kojiro’s focus and determination while training was breathtaking, his hard work had such fruitful results, it was like your plants, they took lots of time and effort, and Kojiro was the same way. You adored him for his drive and he loved you for your mystery.

-One thing that (Love) learned, once you became intimate with him, you were not as gentle in bed as you were during the day, you were like a hellion, scratching at his back in the heat of passion, demanding more and more from him.

-In bed, gone was the elegant and levelheaded Y/N, instead you were a succubus, wanting everything he had to give you and even more, even willing to go as far as taking it yourself if he was unable to do so.

-He couldn’t understand it when you could be up and walking the next day like nothing while he could barely feel his legs, and if he could they were shaking.

-He loved it however, because you would drown him in your passion and your love, doting on him so gently in the afterglow, kissing him softly, whispering gently on how wonderful he was to you. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

-(Love) looked down at you, seeing you still asleep, your hair creating a halo around you, you were his angel of darkness, beautiful but deadly.

-A soft kiss to your cheek roused you and you smiled gently up at him, “My love~ you were so- so unhinged last night. I’ve never seen you like that before. You were like some desperate, howling demon. How you frightened me~ do it again!”

-Rudra- He couldn’t help but grin, leaning away from you just slightly, paling sightly, “I’m not sure if I can move at the moment, my love. Maybe we can try later after some food.” You smiled softly and crawled over to loom over him before settling into his arms, “Well then, let’s get to feeding~” he put his hand on your forehead, pushing you back, “Oh no you don’t- you’re not tricking me again!” you pouted lightly, and he pecked your lips before getting up to go and get some food.

-Nikola- Stammered comically, unable to form words, his hands holding you back by your arms as you tried to lunge at him, “I-I need a break Y/N! I can’t keep up with you!!” you smiled down at him, watching him fight before you cooed softly, “Well then- we should work on building your stamina then.” He smiled weakly up at you before allowing you to rest against his bare chest, hugging you close, sighing softly, thinking you were going to give him a break until he felt your teeth and lips nibbling at his neck.

-Shiva + Wives- You stamina was inhuman, even for the four of them, and they were gods and you had drained them all dry. They couldn’t keep up with you! They all shared a look before Kali, Durga, and Parvati threw Shiva at you, “We’re going for food!” you licked your lips down at Shiva after straddling his hips as he panicked, “Wait! Don’t leave me here!! You traitors!!” their laughter was heard as they went to go and find food. Shiva looked back up at you, trapped before his eyes narrowed, “Fine- I’ll give you what you want!!” delight flashed across your eyes as he grabbed at your hips to get started.

-Hercules- He reached a hand up to cup the side of your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek, “Food first- we worked off our dinner and our midnight snack. If we want to continue we need to eat first.” He pulled you down and kissed you softly and you hummed quietly, pressing a bit harder and he instantly lifted you up with his strength, holding you above his head, “None of that now- you’re not getting out of this without eating first.” You pouted but agreed as he set you down beside him.

-Thor- He learned early on that you were insatiable, with a sex drive for days, something that he had to work on, to match your stamina, else you would suck him dry. Normally he wouldn’t mind it, but certain times of the month were you feistier than others, and he had to learn how to put you down quickly to save himself. However… you grew aware of this and now your stamina was matching his own and now he had to deal with the consequences of his own actions.

-Lu Bu- Has stamina for days, however in bed you were quickly proving to be almost too much for him, he was always up for a challenge, and you were giving him that, but after the third straight night of going from sundown to sunup, his poor back was beginning to feel the burn and he felt like he was going to fall apart. Just groaned and managed to hug you close, pinning you down and fell back asleep, leaving you unable to move, making you pout before you cuddled him and went back to sleep.

-Indra- Immediately put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back down into his side, pinning you there, “I’m not moving for at least the next hour! I can’t even feel my legs! You’re gonna be the death of me.” you cooed softly, nuzzling your nose against his cheek, “You know how to flatter a woman.” He snorted with laughter, but was true to his word, he wasn’t moving, and he wasn’t going to allow you to move either.

-Ares- His eyelid twitched lightly, gawking down at you as you batted your eyes up at him, he couldn’t believe how much energy you had. He moved to stand to get out of bed and you lunged, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself to his bare back, “You’re not going to leave me all alone are you~~?” he sent you a weak grin, “Y/N- I literally can’t feel anything below my hips. It’s gonna fall off if you keep attacking me like this!” you cooed, running your nail down his neck, “You make me sound like some sort of fiend~ but you’ve never told me no.” he twitched under your affections, swallowing hard, he could sense his doom incoming.

-Hermes- Pressed a soft kiss to your lips and smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into you before he spoke, “If we’re going to do this, first we need some food, and I need an ice pack for my back. I think I pulled something going so hard last night.” You nodded, pressing your lips to his temple and he sighed in content, remaining there with you for a moment or two, basking in your affections for a few moments longer.

-Kojiro- His eyelid twitched before he instantly tried to roll over to run away but you lunged at him, hugging him from behind, “Don’t run from me my love~” he turned to you, his eyes wide and face pale, “I-I can’t do it!! I’m not a young man anymore!!” you licked your lips, looking like a hunter, “Don’t run my love~ I like to chase.” Anyone passing by your home could hear the scream of a man, begging for help, but then again, you didn’t have neighbors and you rarely got visitors. How lucky for you~

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: Character Anchors

What does your character need to survive as who they are?

We’re not talking about physical aspects of survival such as food, water, and shelter. Lacking those will kill you, but it won’t destroy who you are. Humans are social creatures. We need more than just our physical needs met to survive. We need an anchor for our sense of self; a social identity, a place to belong. Even the most introverted human needs some minimal interaction with other people to stay sane. Letters, emails, even notes dropped through the mail-slot; something that makes it clear you matter to another living soul.

Or, possibly, a dead one. Humans are odd that way. Just being dead isn’t enough to drop you out of the social network. And this is what gives the Roaring Rampage of Revenge its horrible punch.

On the surface, it looks simple: the villain’s killed someone the hero cares about, they have to pay.

Look deeper, though, and it may not be simple at all. The villain has damaged the hero’s social network, and possibly dealt a crushing blow to the hero’s sense of who they are. If those you loved and protected are dead, who are you? If those who reminded you to stay your hand, to act within the law, to be a better person, are all gone....

Someone who’s lost a huge chunk of their identity may be thinking logically, but their emotions will be flailing around; they might try anything to shore up their certainty of who they are and have been. This makes them unpredictable. And the most dangerous enemy is the one where you don’t know what he’s going to do.

Odds are your villain will have a very bad day, indeed.

What does your hero need to be the person he thinks he is? Could be his family, a stable job, a home port; the church he was born into or beliefs he converted to after long and difficult soul-searching. It could be an idea; nostalgic memories of times and places long gone, a founding creed, a vision of a possible future - colonies on Mars, spaceships traveling the galaxy. It could be something that gives your hero a greater purpose, or just a regular schedule for the week. Tuesday’s time to make tuna salad, while Friday we splurge on takeout pizza. Whatever it is, your character relies on this is going to go right.

Which means, if you have a smart and vicious villain, this is exactly what they’ll target to make things go wrong.

Too often people think of anchors as weighing you down. But an anchor is meant to give safety. To keep a ship steady while repairs are being made; to hold a storm-tossed vessel off reefs and shoals no matter how the winds howl.

Give your characters anchors. And give them villains who know just enough to threaten them.

You might want to stand way back....

[aheckinmess]

(One-shot series 2/3 chapters posted - posts regularly on Saturdays. If anyone knows who to credit for the Hizashi fanart, please let me know!)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Graphic violence, Hizashi Yamada x OC, Present Mic, Present Mic saves the day, Hizashi Yamada is a ray of sunshine, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, pro hero to the rescue, fast friends, hibachi date, time for therapy

Word Count: 4,612 words

Summary: Breaking free of Kigai’s control grants Ichijiku the freedom she’s always dreamed of, but recovering from it isn’t easy. With Hizashi’s help, Ichijiku is able to make more progress towards a normal life, and maybe even a normal relationship.

Author's Note: I haven't posted fanfiction in years, but after a two-year obsession with My Hero Academia, I have more than enough content to share. This first series is pretty dark, but there's some comfort and sweetness along the way. Enjoy.

TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual, Physical, and Emotional Abuse, PTSD Flashbacks

Chapter 2: Nightmares & New Horizons

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Sometimes lullabies keep the nightmares away and sometimes Kigai sings them to me in my dreams. Life hasn’t been the same since he’s been locked up. It’s a far cry better, but an adjustment. Still, it feels good to stretch my legs and breathe again.

As days stretch into weeks, I find Hizashi again. He’s sitting on a bench outside the arcade with that huge smile stretched wide, hands behind his head, and head bopping to the beat of his headphones. When I tap him and he opens his eyes, he lights up.

“Ichijiku! Wow, hey!” He immediately gets up and makes like he’s going to hug me, then seems to think better of it and puts his hands in his pockets. “How’ve you been?”

I still find myself glancing around in public to keep a periphery watch out for Kigai, and I can’t stop myself now. The feeling of dread he imparted on me hasn’t left, it’s merely fading into the background. “I’ve been…it’s been a lot of work, you know, trying to move on. But, I think I’m doing okay.” I want to be optimistic about the whole endeavor. My therapist says that’s what’s helped me survive this long: the hope of a better horizon. I want to keep that part of me alive and prove Kigai was wrong about everything.

I want to prove that to myself too.

“How are you?”

“Well, I…I’ve actually been thinking a lot about you.” He admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “See, a lot of times we can’t get solid evidence on people like…your ex.” He’s very careful not to say his name. I can’t tell whether I’m grateful for it or not yet. I don’t want to be afraid of him anymore. Wounds take time to heal, Little One. “So they frequently get back out because of how well they hide the damage they’ve dealt.” It’s the first time his smile hasn’t fully reached his eyes as he looks at me, but it’s back in place soon enough. “But I’m glad to see that you’re still on your own and thriving! I mean, look at that outfit! Those curly locks and those sparkling eyes! You’ve made a lot of progress since I last saw you.”

“That means a lot, Hizashi.” A real smile graces my lips. How different he is from Kigai. If it weren’t for people like him…I’d still be stuck in hell. “Hey, why don’t I grab your number? I can keep you updated on things. And I’ll need a friend for certain assignments given to me by my therapist. I don’t really have anyone to keep me accountable for the hard tasks.” Worry and guilt suddenly swirl in my stomach and I stop pulling out my phone midway. “I-I mean. That’s a lot to burden you with, I’m sorry. I should have asked and not offered–”

“Hey, no sweat!” Hizashi looks like Christmas came early. He pulls out his phone, presses the new contact button and taps it against my phone peeking out of my pocket. “I imagine finding new friends…learning what feels like a whole new way of life…that has to be difficult. I’ll gladly help you out when times are rough!” 

“Thanks.” I sigh in relief as I look at the contact number and picture now synced to my phone. I snort. “What is this picture?”

“That’s my best friend’s cat, Cloud! He…got a little too enthusiastic about hogging the camera while I was taking a profile pic.” He laughs.

“It’s adorable!” A notification pops up and I start walking away, giving him a wave. “Oh! Got an appointment, gotta run!” 

“I’ll see you later!”

. . . . .

 Hey, Zashi, Kigai isn’t staring at me from the hallway, is he? I take a picture of the ghost in my hall, frozen with fear as tears glisten on my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Kigai, please go away.” 

His eyes bore into mine. You know the consequences for disobeying me, bitch. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone! I can smell the eucalyptus on his shirt and the minty tang of his gum. “Please, Kigai, I’m sorry…” I whimper, scooting around while feeling for the door to my bedroom. He’s going to hit me. He’s going to punish me so bad! Get away from him, Cub. Get a door between the two of you and lock it.

My phone rings and I bolt. I slam my door behind me and lock it. I search for the first thing I can to put between me and Kigai and start heaving my dresser in front of the door. Then I rush into the adjoining bathroom, lock the door, and hop in the tub, pulling the shower curtain. 

I finally answer the phone. “Zashi?” I choke out. “Zashi, he’s here. I need help.”

“Hey, Ichan, hey. I saw the picture. Kigai’s not there.” Hizashi’s voice swirls in the background. “Take a few deep breaths.”

My body jolts as I hear his voice screaming through the door. You know better than to run from me, whore! “Zashi, he’s trying to get through! He keeps yelling at me, please help…” I sob, clutching my phone close to my ear and clenching my eyes shut tight. “Stop, stop, stop…please, stop, I’m sorry…” I pant, peeking out from the shower curtain and feeling grateful Kigai hasn’t made it through the barriers I’ve set between us.

“Ichan, you’re having a flashback.” Hizashi coos through the receiver. “I need you to take a few good deep breaths for me. Tell me what you see.”

I try to listen. I really do. I suck in a heavy breath through my lips and grip the lip of the bathtub so hard my knuckles turn white. My chest aches on the exhale and I shove my free palm into my eye so hard I see spots. 

“What do you see, Ichan?”

I swallow and pull back, opening my eyes as my body trembles.

“Th-There’s,” You better open this goddamn door, brat! “Th-There’s my shower curtain…and…” Who the hell are you talking to?! 

“What’s on the shower curtain?” 

“Zashi, if he finds out I’m talking to you, he’ll hurt you.” I whimper. I’m scared to hang up the phone and face punishment. I’m scared to keep talking and watch Kigai hunt Hizashi down.

“Ichijiku, what’s on the shower curtain?”

“There’s seashells.” After all I’ve fucking done for you.

“What kind of seashells? What colors?”

“There’s a light pink…and lavender…blue…” I once again peek out the curtain.

And I promptly let out a shriek and throw my phone across the bathroom. What the fuck are you doing in the bathtub hiding from me?! “I’m sorry!” I cry, curling up against the porcelain and covering my head. Rough fingers grip my arm and I hear his voice growling in my ear. You know who you belong to, don’t you? Why the fuck are you letting those nobodies look at you like that?! Pain bleeds through my back as I try to placate him. “Please, Kigai, they didn’t mean it. Please stop.” I’ll stop when you know no one else’s body but mine. His hands grip my thighs and dread settles in my bones.

I don’t know how long he spends growling obscenities in my ear and raking his fingers over every surface of skin he can touch. But I know I hear the door open and my whole body clenches. No. If someone comes in here Kigai’s going to kill them! 

“Ichijiku?” Hizashi’s voice echoes in the bathroom. “It’s me. It’s Hizashi.” 

You know this sleaze just wants to take advantage of you while you’re vulnerable, yeah? You belong to me! I whimper and try to draw air in my lungs. “Zashi, run!” I beg.

“Ichan, take a deep breath.” He says on the other side of the curtain. “Take a big, deep breath. You’re safe. Kigai’s not here.” You fucking whore!

I choke on the oxygen I’m trying to take in but dammit I breathe. I inhale and I exhale. Kigai’s hands tilt back and forth between feeling ghostly and real. I inhale and I exhale. “Zashi, you have to run…” I whimper.

“You’re safe, Ichan.” The warmth in his voice starts wrapping around me again. “Kigai’s not here. You’re safe.”

I inhale and I exhale. I slowly uncurl from my ball when I no longer feel Kigai’s hands roaming my body. I inhale and I exhale. The smell of eucalyptus and mint fades into the rusty smell of the tub. The sound of my air freshener spraying out apple cinnamon seems to emphasize the dismissal of his scent all around me. I inhale and I exhale.

I slowly rise in the tub and ease the shower curtain back.

Sitting against the bathroom wall, Hizashi looks at me with glistening, patient eyes. My phone still sits on the floor right beside him. When he notices I’m looking, he makes a big show of taking a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

I inhale and I exhale as I sluggishly crawl out of the tub.

“Zashi?” I breathe, looking warily around the bathroom. I creep towards the door, open it, and then hop back out of view. I look in the mirror to see if anyone’s in my room, but it’s empty. “Is he gone?” 

“You’re safe, Ichan.” Hizashi says, looking up at me. “Kigai’s not here.” 

“You’re sure he’s gone?” I whimper, creeping to the doorframe and eyeing every crack and crevice that might be out of place. Nothing has moved except the dresser. “Did you move the dresser?” I ask frantically.

“Take a deep breath, Ichan.” He tells me, and I inhale and I exhale. I listen, and he starts slowly standing up, grabbing my phone along the way. “I picked the lock when I heard you scream. I had to shove the dresser back with the door to get in. I wanted to make sure you were safe, and you are. You’re safe, Ichan. Kigai’s not here.”

Security blankets me and as my pulse evens out, a heavy wave of exhaustion washes over me. My eyelids are harder to hold open and my shoulders sag. He’s not here. He never was. It was a flashback, just like he said. You’re strong, Little Cub. We made it through another flashback. It’s going to be okay. We’re safe now.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Hizashi asks. “Give you a hug? I don’t want to frighten you.”

I survey my emotions and analyze how I’m feeling. When I’ve taken a few more deep breaths and feel more confident, I nod. 

Two, strong arms pull me into a warm chest. I hear the steady beating of Hizashi’s heart and close my eyes, drinking in the security that just being near him brings. I breathe in time with that strong beat of his heart. 

“You’re safe.” He whispers, and I squeeze him a little tighter. Please don’t leave. 

“I’m sorry.” A few of my tears decorate his shirt. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He croons, rubbing up and down my back. “Flashbacks can be vivid. I’m just glad I was able to help. You don’t have to worry about him anymore, though. I’m here.” 

. . . . .

For the next few weeks, my therapist asks me to write down detailed accounts of my flashbacks so we can analyze my triggers and try to minimize them. It sucks, but writing them down helps us figure out that eucalyptus is in the Stress Relief pillow mist I use and causes most of my flashbacks at night. We also learn that I’m more sensitive to auditory triggers, like songs he used to play in the car or abrupt loud sounds.

It doesn’t happen every time, thankfully, which is good considering Hizashi’s been trying to help me acclimate to a normal life. He’s been taking me out to different places in the hopes of showing me the finer points of life. We’ve been to the arcade, had a picnic in the park, and he’s even taken me to a music store and serenaded me while playing the piano. I’ve also met a few of his friends: Nemuri, Shouta, and Oboro.

Both myself and my therapist are impressed with the amount of help he’s offered to my situation. We’re both cautiously optimistic, though. 

Kigai started out all sunshine and rainbows, too, after all. 

Which table are you at? I text Hizashi as I step into the hibachi restaurant. The heat of the room feels good as the impending winter sets in. I love cold weather. I look around for a pair of familiar orange sunglasses. 

Hey! The table in the far back. You won’t be able to see me from the front.

I start heading that way, and smile when his yellow eyes meet mine. I’ve never been more grateful to hear blissful silence accompanying a tender gaze.

“Hey, glad to see you found the place okay.” He hops up the second he sees me and pulls the chair out for me to have a seat. It’s been a while since I’ve been pampered by an actual gentleman. “This place has a great atmosphere, and the food is amazing!”

“Yeah, it’s really warm and vibrant.” I agree as I get situated in the chair and he pushes me in. I twirl a piece of hair around my finger nervously as I look around at the crowd of people at other tables. What if they’re watching me? Kigai will– He’s not here, Dear One.

“Look at me.” Hizashi says, staring across the table and drawing me in with his essence. “There you go. No need to worry. I’m here.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle nervously, still twirling my hair as a comfort. “What would you recommend from here?” 

“You’ve got to try the freckled lemonade. Unless you’re allergic to strawberries. Then, don’t.” Hizashi laughs, opening his menu. “But aside from that, the shrimp hibachi is killer! I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

I’ll grab the shrimp hibachi then, as it’s probably the simplest and one of the cheaper menu items. I wasn’t exactly left with a lot in my bank account to compensate for what Kigai took from me. I think with some financial anxiety. 

Once we’ve made our decisions and the waiter has taken our orders, there’s a group of girls that walk by laughing. One of them gives me some side-eye and I instantly start fussing with my outfit. I pull up the shoulders of my burnt orange blouse and adjust my cardigan. Fatass. You know if you ate less I might have fewer men looking at your thick curves.

“You look gorgeous.” Hizashi says, and I snap my head up with worry. He flushes and holds up his hands, waggling them nervously. “I-I mean, you seemed worried about those girls and I just wanted you to know that you didn’t have to fix up anything. They were probably just jealous that you look so good…I-I mean! Well…oh man…” He rubs his shoulder as he fumbles over his words.

“It’s okay, Zashi.” I also flush, but only because I don’t think I’m worthy of his flustered manner. “I’m probably just overreacting anyway. I can’t…seem to turn off my anxieties.”

“It’s to be expected. You’re doing great based on what you’ve gone through.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin there. “You don’t have to be afraid around me.”

“I know.” I breathe, looking at our hands and feeling  a strange combination of terror and warmth. Am I afraid of how good he makes me feel? You’re afraid of getting close and getting hurt again. I don’t want to be afraid of Hizashi. 

“I’m sorry.” Hizashi pulls his hand back and gives me a smile. “I forget that touch is still hard for you. As I’m sure you know now, I’m a dramatic and expressive person. If I ever make you feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“You don’t.” I promise, looking up at him and instantly regretting the absence of his touch. “I’m…just scared.” I look down. “I’m scared of getting too close to you. I enjoy your company, but I’m afraid you’re too good to be true. I’m afraid you’ll either end up like Kigai or I’ll do something wrong and you’ll leave.” My eyes start watering.

The silence between us stretches on as we eat our food and Hizashi looks thoughtful over his next words. When he swallows a bite of rice, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I can’t make you trust that I’m not like Kigai. That’s something I know will come with time. But I can do my best to reassure you that even if you do something to upset me, I’m willing to communicate with you and not just leave you.” He opens and closes his mouth a few more times before sighing. “I care about you too much as a friend to leave you without trying to save the relationship first.”

When the words as a friend cut to my heart, I understand why I’m so scared. I take a deep breath. I’m falling in love with him, and I’m scared. You’ve been hurt. You’re allowed to be afraid…but you’re also allowed to love again. I don’t know if I’m ready to love again. And that’s okay. You can take your time. But I don’t want to lose him, either. I don’t know if I’m ready to watch him find love with someone else, but I don’t know if I’m ready to claim him as my own. I’m too scared. Then tell him that. In those words. I can’t…

I fix my face into a smile. “Thank you, Zashi.”

For the rest of dinner, I stew over my thoughts while I laugh at Hizashi’s jokes and stories. Between the ambient atmosphere and his glowing presence, I feel full of optimism as he walks me home.

It’s while I’m digging for my keys at the door that he throws me for a loop.

“Hey, um, Ichijiku?” His voice shakes, which is unusual for him.

“Yes, Hizashi?” I turn, pulling my key ring from my purse. 

He takes a step forward until he’s close enough I can smell his cologne. 

“I know that you’re going through a lot right now, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you for pushing through.” At first, he seems ready to leave it at that, but he opens his mouth again and looks at me with pink cheeks. “So, I have no right to ask this given what you’ve already gone through, but is it okay if I kiss you?”

I hold my breath. My chest gets tight and my muscles seize. You belong to me, got it? “Hizashi…”

“If the answer is no, that’s okay.” He says quickly. “I’m not trying to force you into anything and I certainly don't want to bring up any unhappy memories for you. I just…couldn’t go any longer without seeing where you stood. I was scared if I waited too long, I might lose the opportunity.”

Why does that sound exactly like what I was thinking in the restaurant? How do I tell him that I love him but I’m not ready? Say exactly that. Once the ground beneath me stops swaying and the beat of my heart returns to normal, I look up at him.

“Zashi, the answer is no…but not because I don’t have feelings for you.” I watch as his eyes dim and light up again. “I don’t know if I’m ready to make that kind of commitment. I want to be. I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t.” I reach up and caress his cheek. His hand wraps around mine as he leans into my hold, his expression akin to that of an adoring puppy. “And it’s not fair of me to want you this much and ask you to wait for me.” My voice gets tight. I want you to hold me and keep me close, but I’m afraid if I let you, you’ll choke me. And I’m not worth the wait. I’m not worth the work and the effort so I know you’ll walk away and I’m sorry. “So, you don’t have to wait for me. But if it’s any consolation, I think I have it in me to do this.” I lean up on my tiptoes, and place a tearful kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Hizashi, even if you’re not meant to be mine.” I swallow thickly and turn away to unlock my door before disappearing inside.

. . . . .

Hey, Ichi, can we talk?

Ichan, are you there?

I’m going to grab frozen yogurt later, want to join?

I’m starting to worry about you. Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?

Ever since the night we’ve had dinner, Hizashi has still checked in on me regularly. I’ve been trying to distance myself in the hopes that by doing so, he’ll stop trying to reach out and move on with his life. 

He proves to be rather stubborn.

I’m sorry if I’ve worried you. I’m fine. I finally send, not wanting him to think I’m in any sort of trouble.

I’m glad to hear it! The response comes in seconds. Are you free?

That’s where I stop. I can’t entertain this. I’ve already told him that he’d have to wait for me, and I’m not worth the time. Shouldn’t he get to decide what’s worth his time? 

I hug my knees to my chest on the couch and stare out the window overlooking the city. Everything is colder now that winter’s hit. Frost paints the windowpane and people walk down the streets blowing smoke from their lips. The cold would be much more enjoyable if I had Hizashi’s warmth to complement it.

My jaw clenches as frustration mounts. I don’t want to push him away but… Then why are you? Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? Shouldn’t I be proud of myself for communicating my needs clearly? My therapist is certainly proud I’ve set boundaries and worked on coping skills. With all of this handled, we’ve been able to work on how to respond to my flashback triggers and implement strategies to work through them. 

But even she thinks I’ve been a little extreme cutting all communication with Hizashi. 

Yeah, I’m free. I send the text before I can talk myself out of it and then pull my blanket around myself to hide from whatever might follow.

A knock sounds at my door. I peek out from under my blanket as my breath catches.

“Who is it?” I call.

“The one! The only! Hizashi Yamadaaaaaaaa!”

One voice. One voice and spring blossoms in my veins amidst the cold winter storm. 

When I open the door my body moves on instinct. There is no thought in my mind when my arms reach out and pull him in. There is no question or hesitation when tender arms meet my back and squeeze tight. There is only Hizashi.

“You never let me answer that night.” He breathes in my ear, before pulling back and tilting my chin up. His expression is inescapable. “I love you, too, Ichan. You’re worth waiting for.”

“I’m so sorry.” My chest quivers. “Hizashi, I’m so sorry. I was afraid.”

“I know.”

“I thought you’d want a better life without me.”

“That life doesn’t exist for me. Not if you’re out of the picture.”

“I’m not worth the wait.”

“You’re worth the world, lovebug.”

I hug him for the next three minutes, thanking God for His mercy and kindness, and I thank God for Hizashi. He feels so good. I don’t ever want to leave. Why don’t you start there then? The idea comes to me quite by surprise, and I look up at Hizashi with newfound hope burning in my chest.

“Hey, Hizashi?”

“Yes?” His thumb strokes my cheek.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a kiss…but would you settle with cuddles on the couch?” 

The corners of his lips turn up into that heartstopping grin. “I’d love that.”

. . . . .

We start small. For the first few weeks, we’re barely close enough for it to be considered cuddles. I mainly sit by him and rest my head on his shoulder. Gradually, however, we start making some headway. Leaning on his shoulder turns into sitting in his lap and curling under his chin, which turns into laying beside him, which turns into fully wrapping myself around him and taking well-earned naps.

It’s a little scary at first, being so close to him. I imagine it a little like being too close to the sun, always on the lookout for getting burned. But he’s attentive, gentle, and patient. When a small miscalculated move makes me flinch or freak out or freeze, he’s apologetic and understanding.

And thus, we manage to move into those bigger steps together. Doubts and fears of Kigai become less pervasive the more Hizashi shows me he’s not going to hurt me. With each passing week as he proves it, I find myself more and more open to his touch. I find myself more expectant of it. But most of all, I find myself more eager for it.

“Ichi, where’d you get this beanie? I need one!” Hizashi turns the blue and orange striped beanie in his hand.

“That? I made it. You can have it if you want.” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his middle and sighing into his back. “It was meant to be a craft experiment. But it turned out sort of ick yucky.”

“Ick yucky? It’s magical!” He uses my token phrase as he pulls the beanie on and poses. “What do you think? Am I runway ready yet?”

I reach my fingers under the beanie and give his hair a good ruffle, effectively messing up his hair and sending the beanie to the floor. “Now you are.”

“Wa–heeeeeyyyyyy!” He pouts and bends down to look at me with sad puppy eyes. “How am I supposed to look like a model now?”

One moment I’m giggling at his antics and the next my lips press against his. My fingers wind up his chest and around his neck and I’m hanging onto him like he’s my last chance at oxygen. When his hands move to my hips, I’m violently yanked back into reality and I pull back hard, gasping.

“I’m sorry. Should I have stopped you?” Hizashi reaches out for me, but doesn’t close the distance. “Do I need to give you some space?”

“Was that your first kiss?” I blurt, before hiding my face as Hizashi’s face wavers between his and Kigai’s. I take a few, steadying breaths and Hizashi is himself again. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. I don’t…know what came over me.”

There’s a sad smile on his face. I don’t like it. His features don’t model sadness very well. It doesn’t fit him.

“It’s okay. No, it wasn’t my first kiss, I regret to say.” He looks sheepish before his eyes sparkle. “But it was definitely the best kiss.”

A few moments pass. I did it. I wasn’t thinking about it, but I did it. And it didn’t trigger anything. Maybe…I could try again…I think I want to.

“If I move slowly…do you think we could try that again?” I ask.

“Please.”

So we do. I taste him again and spring blossoms into summer. Sunshine sinks into my veins and hope blossoms in my chest. Light brightens the dark fear in my mind and joy sings through my heart.

And Hizashi doesn’t let me go.

Continue Reading -> Ch. 3

[electricbluebutterflies]

Prompt: “ it's nothing. hurts like hell but -- i've dealt with worse. “

Post-s2-grayspace Kabby. We're playing a little loose with medical plausibility but I did twist my ankle as a tiny human (roughly 20 years ago) so I'm just going with that memory and hoping it's close enough. PG-ish and also on ao3.

If nothing else on this planet manages to kill him, she just might.

This is not a new emotion or desire for Abby – if anything, its frequency has lessened. But other details have changed too, the dramatic personality shift she’s trying to make her peace with and worries was somehow her fault, and-

Most of said personality shift makes her life easier. The fact that Marcus is now impulsive and a bit passive-aggressively suicidal undoes all that goodwill real fast when it flares.

She is not trying to take up his former mantle of paranoia, but it seems that every time he leaves the safety of their compound for more than about two hours, regardless of whether he’s alone or with others, something goes wrong and it becomes her problem. Injuries happen, she gets it, there’s a whole new world everyone is trying to get used to, but most people don’t…

She of all people understands the unwillingness to accept new physical limitations, but it’s like he’s not even trying, like he can ignore that damage and be okay, and then that doesn’t work and she gets stuck dealing with the damage. Just like always.

This time, he thinks he can hide it – he’s learning, perhaps, that these little adventures are becoming the only times she lets herself get mad at him. This time, he comes back moving just slightly wrong, just wrong enough that only someone who pays too much attention to his habits would notice a change, and-

“With me,” she says, and she will at least give him the mercy of not going at him with an audience, as much as that would probably be the most interesting part of five different people’s days. “Now.”

Perfect compliance – this too is becoming normal, this new and frightful willingness to actually listen to her that was absolutely not present six months ago and they’d all be a lot less fucked if it had been and this is no time for what-ifs and-

“I can’t imagine I missed anything that vital in less than half a day,” he says once they’re behind a closed door, not quite making eye contact and clearly trying to distract her. She forgets sometimes that he knows her habits just as well, and hers haven’t dramatically changed recently so that’s even easier, and-

“You are at least aware where you are right now,” she mutters, almost a question. “Turn your head for five minutes and someone tries to cause the apocalypse by accident, again.”

“I know you have more important things to do than-“

“Sit down and shut up for long enough for me to-“

“It’s nothing,” he says in that avoidant voice that used to mean something entirely different between them. “Hurts like hell, but… I’ve dealt with worse.”

Goddamn right he has, Abby thinks and won’t say. At least there’s nothing visibly wrong, at least-

“Make this easier for yourself and tell me what happened before I start removing your clothes until I find it.”

Apparently that’s the necessary level of directness today. Marcus leans down and undoes one of his boots, and… yep, ankle just slightly swollen, sizeable bruise, that’d explain the movement issues, that’d also explain-

“And what exactly did you do?”

“Ground looked level. It wasn’t.”

She kneels down and gets her fingers on the injury, feeling the damage. At least he didn’t manage to break anything, probably just a twist, still unpleasant but not-

“I’m going to wrap that,” she murmurs. “You need to rest it for a few days. I don’t care if-“

“I’m fine. I can’t-“

Abby leans up and glares at him with every bit of fury she can put into her facial expression. “Do you see yourself right now? Do you see these colors that human skin isn’t supposed to-“

“Fine,” he repeats.

“You are supposed to be my other half here. And that means it ruins my life if you go out and hurt yourself any further because of stupid masculine bravado or your barely concealed death wish or-“

“I don’t rest well. You of all people know that.”

Yes, she thinks, the number of times she had to physically tackle him despite being in more pain herself because their combined recovery situation was designed more for supervision than actual enforced healing sure was a time, she’s amazed that even worked, and-

“But I’m the only person left you’ll listen to,” she counters. “And I’m not saying bedrest – I’d like to, but I know you. I’m saying for the next three days your world consists of your normal indoor haunts and ideally not a lot of movement between them, understand?”

It’s not the compromise she wants to make, but she knows how far she can push. And if he spends most of his waking hours on the couch in their shared office, that means she can supervise him and make sure…

Oh, nevermind. Trying to save that man from himself is always a losing battle. She’s known that since she was fifteen. Decades later, she still tries anyways.

“Stay where you can see me,” he correctly interprets. “Understood.”

She moves away for long enough to find an adequate bandage and wraps it around his ankle as tight as she can, just enough structure to control further damage. He’s lucky he didn’t manage to do worse to himself, but it’s probably only a matter of time before-

She’s never actually considered the possibility of her life without him. She doesn’t like that thought.

“There. Is that…”

“I’ll deal.”

It’s not the answer she necessarily wants, but it’ll do. This is no time to actually voice her worry, and-

“I need you,” she repeats anyways.

“Understood.”

[eebie]

i feel like thr chances of seeing earth 42’s version of johnathan ohnn r astranomically high Cos in the ‘leaked’ boards of thennext movie it seems like gwen j everyone else are focused on damage control in 1610 , miles will probably need to find an alchemax in 42 to find his way back bc afawk gwen doesn’t know which dimension miles is in (but she knows where to start, which i think implies she’s going to sneak back to HQ and find out exactly where he was sent, maybe. b/c margo from what i remember didn’t see the screen that displayed the dimension number) . i just don’t think everyone will play a big role in miles’ escape from earth 42, bc there’s gonna be a lot of emotional/personal growth there that would be kind of smothered by their presence. i think seeing a different version of ohnn, the nerdy, introverted, anxious and picked-on ohnn who’s passion for science is fuelled by finding better versions of himself(clearly implied to be his motivator for working on the collider in the ATSV artbook, and strikingly similar to miles’ own motivation to study the same thing so he could be with his friends, the people he held in such high regard as both people AND as spiders— you could almost say he sees them as the ideal, the better versions of himself. either way, they both long for connection they feel like they’ll never find anywhere close to home. ) Will help him see spot as the truly damaged person that he is Who isn’t a bad guy at heart, but simply “didn’t know he had a choice” (miles’ own words about his uncle. he’s halfway there, he just needs that final connection between that statement and spot, who was dealt bad hand after bad hand and eventually really had no other course of action than to play the cards that he was given). and that would be the key determiner in spot’s defeat. he’s impossible to take down in terms of combat, and explicitly stated as intentionally written to be, but i believe he’s still reachable enough for a talk-down. we know when he’s face to face with regular people, he doesn’t want to hurt them . he goes out of his way to avoid it— he wouldn’t lay a finger on someone standing right in front of him, but it’s the collateral damage of his actions that causes the most harm. the taxi that almost crushes bystanders on a sidewalk fell into a portal he had no control over, the collapse of the alchemax happened only after he disappeared, etc etc. the damage that he doesn’t see, or realize is happening because he’s always too caught up in what’s happening right in front of him, or in his own emotional outbursts. as abyss, his emotions inflame him to a size beyond skyscrapers, so high up he cannot see anything beyond his own suffering. he’s volatile, and he’s lashing out, but at his core he’s a regular guy who never had any support in his life, is more isolated than ever, respected by no-one, ridiculed and unseen by the person he deems responsible for it all, and is expressing all of that pain in a role he was never meant to fill , with catastrophic effects. i was falling asleep b4 i snapped awake 2 write all of this shit it’s almost 2:00 am im not going back to proofread tjis im going straigjt to bed NIGHT NIGHT

[solar-siren]

Angstpril Day One: Liar

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Dyson says. “But at this point, I think you might deserve it.”

Yori is restrained, locked to a slab in one of Clu’s recognizers. Her capture is a major victory for the Admin. She’s been wreaking havoc for far too long—sabotaging the games, smuggling ISOs out of the city, defiling the Capitol with propaganda. Even as a prisoner she is dangerous; she has already escaped once, and she derezzed two guards before their forces managed to restrain her. It isn’t safe to keep her in holding.

So Clu sent her to Dyson.

The monitor looms over her with a blade in his hand. Usually programs are cowering by now, but she only glares at him, otherworldly eyes lit with fury.

It’s a little too familiar.

“You remind me of Tron,” Dyson says, almost without meaning to. The vitriol in her expression falters for a moment.

There it is. He smiles.

“Do you ever wonder what happened to your counterpart?”

He abandons the tool he was holding, placing it back in line with the others. He won’t be needing them yet.

There’s more than one way to break a program.

Yori is silent for one nano, two—

“What did you do to him?”

Dyson bites back a smile. His prisoner is strong in every way but one; her affection for Tron will always be her greatest weakness.

“Mostly we talked. He didn’t have much to say.”

Yori hangs on his every word, now. He knows she can’t resist. It’s been cycles since Tron disappeared, since she heard any news of her counterpart.

“I offered him a choice,” Dyson says, stepping closer. “The same choice I’ve offered you. Even after his treachery, Clu was willing to forgive him. But Tron was too stubborn to accept that forgiveness.” He gives a practiced pause, like he would between blows. Momentary relief only makes the pain sweeter. “He was also too badly damaged to survive the rectification process.”

Agony shapes her features before she can mask it. For the briefest of moments grief is plain on her face and her light betrays her, flickering weakly.

“Liar,” Yori hisses, and then she’s scowling again, with twice the ferocity of before.

He’s had enough of her mulishness.

“Tron is dead,” Dyson snaps, grabbing her by the chin. “He died alone, in agony, in this very room. But you don’t have to die like he did.”

His touch softens to something less bruising as he caresses her face. Yori fights not to recoil.

“If he was gone, I would know,” she says.

“Would you?” Dyson asks. “We both know he broke the connection you shared. It was a valiant attempt to protect you—even if you wasted it.” He brushes a strand of hair from her eyes. “How could I know that unless he was here?”

With that he releases her, leaves her to feel as alone as she is.

“No,” Yori says, but he can hear the despondency creeping in. The doubt.

“Oh, yes. He’s not coming to save you this time. No one is. And there’s no point in fighting when you have no one left to fight for.”

That seems to do the trick.

She curls in on herself as much as she can, closing her eyes. She is steeling herself against emotion she can’t control—finally giving in. It’s no surprise she tired of fighting so easily. She wasn’t designed for it, after all.

Or at least, that’s what he thinks before she frees herself.

It shouldn’t be possible. The restraints aren’t broken or open, but they no longer hold her. Her disc is in her hand, spitting blue fire.

Dyson’s shock costs him precious time. Yori slams him into the platform she was trapped to.

“Did you kill him?” she asks. Her disc hovers next to his throat. He can feel its heat.

Her hand is trembling.

“Yori—”

“Did you?”

He knows he won’t escape from this, but she will die the slower death.

“Yes,” he sneers.

The knife in her hand is an added surprise.

Yori crouches on the floor in a pile of voxels, trying to breathe. She isn’t hurt. She’s not. She tells her that again and again as she shakes apart, wracked with sobs she can’t let out.

It remains unclear who dealt the killing blow.

[miri--writes]

The Long Game ◇ A Slow Horses Story

Prologue

◇ Here's a playlist for inspiration and ambience

It was a humid evening in late July, and the air outside Regent’s Park was heavy with the day's lingering heat. The golden light of sunset had faded into a gray-blue dusk, and the scattered clouds above seemed to press down, trapping the heat. Inside the Park, however, the air-conditioning hummed softly, a sharp contrast to the oppressive weather. The cool air was a reprieve, but Ashley Green barely noticed.

She stood outside the conference room, her back pressed against the wall, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. Her brown eyes, wide with tension, flicked toward the swinging doors, cracked open just enough for voices to leak. The room beyond was dim, shadows stretching across the polished wood floor like fingers clawing for the light.

Simon Lynton’s voice rose above the muffled conversation, distinct and commanding. It was a voice Ashley knew well, sharpened by years of issuing orders in high-stakes operations. It carried weight at the Park, both respected and feared, the hallmark of a man who didn’t tolerate dissent.

Another voice answered, rough-edged with a Russian accent, its anger barely contained. The sound of their tones clashing was insistent, like the low rumble of a distant storm. A big fucking storm. Ashley forced herself to stay still, focusing on her shallow breaths as she strained to catch each word. Her mind raced to piece together the fragments, trying to make sense of the charged exchange.

“What about the bodies?” the Russian asked, pacing. The dull thud of his footsteps emphasized his growing agitation.

“They’ve been dealt with,” Simon Lynton replied, his tone as controlled as ever.

“Dealt with?” the Russian spat, his frustration boiling over. “Four dead—how do you bury so many secrets?”

Ashley’s stomach tightened. Lynton wasn’t just her superior; he was the architect of Operation Obsidian, a mission she’d believed to be both legitimate and necessary. Now, the picture was shifting.

She stayed frozen, every nerve focused on gathering as much information as she could, even as her brain wrestled with the implications of what she was hearing.

“They weren’t part of the plan,” Lynton said, his voice edged with irritation. “But they’re collateral damage. And in this line of work, you learn to bury secrets and to take some hits.”

“Take some hits” the Russian echoed bitterly. “You speak as if you’ve lost something. Those men…pizdec!—” His voice cracked.

Lynton sighed, the sound heavy with condescension. “This isn’t the time for emotional outbursts. If you’d followed instructions, this wouldn’t have happened. Now, let’s fix the problem and move on.”

The Russian’s footsteps stopped abruptly. “And the bookkeeper?”

Ashley’s brow furrowed. The word struck her as significant, though she couldn’t place it.

Lynton’s reply was measured, almost dismissive. “The bookkeeper is secure.”

“Your version of secure doesn’t reassure me,” the Russian growled.  “Your cargo is gone. Useless now. The Americans—”

“Will stay out of it,” Lynton interrupted sharply. “This was a setback, but the shipment was insured, and replacements are already underway.”

Ashley shifted her weight slightly, the worn soles of her loafers scraping against the floor. Adrenaline was kicking in, and her brain was working fast. Fragments of the conversation were pieced together: four dead men, a shipment gone wrong, and replacements already in motion.

“Replacements won't fix this. They’ll come for you, for me, for every link in your operation.”

“You overestimate their reach,” Lynton replied, his tone cold. “The ones who matter are on my side.”

The Russian let out a bitter laugh. “There is no forgetting or forgiving here. You know what they’ll do to send a message.”

“Then make sure the message isn’t about us,” Lynton said firmly.

For a moment, the room fell silent, the tension so thick it seemed to seep through the cracked door. Ashley’s pulse quickened as the Russian finally spoke again, his voice dropping to a dangerous hush. “Does your precious R.H. actually know his name is in their crosshairs?”

R.H. The letters jolted Ashley’s memory.

“I said leave the bookkeeper to me,” Lynton replied, his voice ice-cold now.

A chair scraped against the floor, breaking Ashley’s concentration. The sound of footsteps approached the door, and her breath caught. She turned on her heel and walked quickly down the hallway, forcing her steps to stay steady.

✴✴✴

Ashley lay on her bed in her small Camden flat, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Outside, a streetlamp cast a faint glow through the blinds, streaking pale light across the blue walls and cluttered bookshelves. This space was usually her sanctuary—a quiet retreat from London’s chaos. Tonight, it felt suffocating.

She had changed into an old T-shirt and shorts, her long brown hair still damp from a cold shower meant to clear her head. It hadn’t worked. She’d tied her hair into a messy ponytail, but strands clung stubbornly to her damp skin. The fan she’d placed beside her bed barely stirred the humid air, its soft whir a constant reminder of summer’s torment and her restless thoughts.

Her eyes flicked to the clock on the bedside table: 2:47 a.m. The red digits glowed in the dark, each second ticking down toward a decision she wasn’t ready to face.

The voices from earlier echoed in her mind, fragments overlapping. Four dead men. A shipment gone wrong. Replacements already in motion. And then that word—bookkeeper. She shifted restlessly, the creak of the mattress loud in the stillness of the room.

Turning onto her side, her gaze landed on a framed photo of a beech forest in Urkiola. It had once been a source of calm, a reminder of simpler times walking golden-leafed trails in Álava. But tonight, it brought no peace. The noose was tightening, the choices stark: stay silent and let the storm pass, or speak up and risk being swallowed by it.

Her father’s voice surfaced, unbidden: doing the right thing when it’s easy is no measure of character, Ash. His words, spoken over a morning coffee, lingered in the dark room like a ghost. But doing it when it’s hard…

A tear slid down her cheek, unexpected but unresisted. It was the first in years. She didn’t bother wiping it away. The words continued looping in her mind, merging with the faint purr of the fan and the distant murmur of a passing car.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but the weight of her decision pressed heavily against her chest.

She didn’t want this, but she’d already passed the point of no return. By the time she drifted into an uneasy sleep, the decision had been made. And everything would change.

✴✴✴

You'll also find the complete Chapter 1 here and on AO3. Go follow me if you like it!

For those who are curious, this story takes place a couple of months after season 2, before season 3 :)

Here's a Pinterest board I'm making...

[muthaz-rapapa]

A Brief Study of Loneliness Analysis #4 - alone against the world

To be honest, I’m questioning if I’m mentally well enough right now to do a proper analysis post. And this isn’t the topic I intended to write about either (that post will be published later) but something I decided on this morning after I woke up feeling too many emotions from thinking a lot these past few days.

Since writing is often an effective way for me to purge my state of mind…I owe myself this space to release some of that turmoil. So feel free to look the other way if this bothers you. And plz don’t interact with CLAMP-related commentary or whatever cuz that isn’t what this post is about.

{TW: mental illness, depression, topics of abuse}

Loneliness. Solitude.

These are the things Kaito has always known as far back as he can remember.

Isolated because of his powers, he was always alone. Even the few who genuinely reached out to him weren’t able to lift that belief from his mind.

Because he’s been carrying this emotional and psychological trauma from his childhood for so long that the thought of connecting with people, trusting others, is greatly damaged as well.

The only exception to that is Akiho. She had to endure abuse similarly to how he did so he could relate to her suffering. But she was also always beside him as a positive, healing influence and that helped alleviate some of that pain he felt.

However, it didn’t erase it because there were many things that kept that wall up between them.

He had to hide the fact that he is a magician from Akiho in order to not frighten her. Because every other magician she knew had only ever hurt her for not having magic. Kaito didn’t want that. He wanted her to feel safe, to grow up feeling that she can be treated normally. So he never used magic in front of her (or, at the very least, not in any way she would notice) so that she could interact with him without being afraid.

He hides his schemes in the shadows because he doesn’t want her to become aware of what her clan and the Association did to her, what he’s trying to fix right now. Finding out that she was turned into a magical artifact would be the ultimate thing that could destroy her heart and she’d immediately lose her soul to the spells carved into her body from the magnitude of that revelation.

He deflects her concern for his rapidly deteriorating health for the same reason.

“Don’t ask, don’t look this way, please think of yourself first”

All this is done for Akiho’s peace of mind.

Kaito shoulders the heavy burden of secrecy, his own massive guilt, anxiety, and despair so that Akiho wouldn’t have to. So that she wouldn’t worry and can be free to be happy like he wants her to be.

And that in itself is another loneliness for him to bear.

The loneliness of being at the top by yourself.

The loneliness of taking on a goal only you can fulfill, one that you absolutely MUST fulfill. A task that you can’t trust or rely on others for and are running out of time to complete.

The loneliness of not being able to be your true self, especially in front of the person you love most. Because that just might be what breaks her and you lose her forever.

The feeling that you are up against the odds, the world, alone.

“You’re on your own, you always have been”

Even when half of these issues are dealt with and made better post-climax-finale-whatever, the fact that Kaito had felt and experienced this pain won’t ever change. It will remain buried deep in the corners of his mind and at times, it will come back to haunt him when he’s at his weakest and most vulnerable.

Because it’s already part of him, what made him who he is now.

It is a pain unique to him so…even Akiho will never fully comprehend why or how he feels this way.

That’s just how humans are. It’s very difficult and perhaps impossible to completely understand one another because others can’t be you and you can’t be anyone but yourself. That’s the barrier that sets us apart.

And it made me realize something at the end of the latest chapter (68).

Knowing his story, his background, I have always stood on Kaito’s side and prayed for him to achieve what he wishes for (i.e. saving Akiho’s life). So from that position, I have to also come to understand how he perceives the world and how (he assumes) the world perceives him.

The world (or the majority) will typically side with the protagonist, the hero, the one considered “sane”. Like the boy holding up his sword right in front of him or the heroine Kaito placed in this story he wove. The side that is overwhelmingly painted as “good” and in that effect, sheds a negative light on the one standing opposite of it.

The “good” side (talking in general here, not Sakura) is willing to accept things they consider clean-looking. “Pure”. Sanitized.

So it’s easier for them to accept Akiho because despite her problems, she is shown to behave in what many still think as the “proper” way (by keeping her head down to herself and not starting any trouble).

The reaction and the reception towards Kaito’s actions, however, is more alienating and wary and outright hateful even with the bigger picture there to illustrate why. Even though he has good reason to explain his behavior (he acts sneakily and drastically precisely because he’s been pushed into extreme desperation), he will always be deemed as crazy and harmful and by some, even “evil”.

Because those people can’t register in their own brains the extent of the suffering in someone else’s mind and how that affects whatever that person does. So they shun them. They shun what they can’t understand and automatically label it as “bad”.

When in reality, most people who are mentally ill don’t have it in them to look and behave in the ideal standards that others ridiculously hold them up to.

It’s already a huge struggle to get up in the morning and to act normal before those we have to interact with. It’s already a constant and exhausting fight with yourself beneath the surface to not let your inner demons win.

Once something breaks that fragile façade, what do you honestly expect to see? Cuz it’s definitely not a perfect angel. It’s the broken and the ugly but still very much human part that we’re doing our best to reconcile in ourselves.

That, I believe, is a way to describe another loneliness Kaito possesses.

Nobody but him understands the conviction he has to hold onto as he faces every obstacle that blocks his way. Nobody knows what it’s like for him to do everything on his own for the sake of this plan to save Akiho. Nobody can comprehend the terrors that he and Akiho escaped from, that magician society that he had to likely fend off regularly while making sure the plan in Tomoeda goes accordingly without a hitch.

They just see him as “wrong” because they don’t want to accept what he’s gone through. What he is going through right now. Cuz it’s easier to blame something they don’t understand.

And it’s sad because Kaito believes this, too. That he is wicked, “evil”, and that there's no saving him.

That’s not true at all. He’s just doing his best in the limited ways available to him to ensure that Akiho survives.

And if life didn’t fuck him up like this, if it didn’t shape him into someone who couldn’t trust others, if he weren’t still so affected by his trauma and factors beyond his own control, do you honestly think he would go to such dangerous lengths just to poke in someone else’s miracle fountain? When there are probably safer ways to save Akiho out there?

No.

If a person’s mind was clear and healthy, mentally stable…they wouldn’t be viewed so derogatively. But when they aren’t those things, they’re thought of as less than a person. That it’s their fault they are that way.

It’s no wonder why he said “I am alone”.

Indeed, he may not be completely alone because Momo will not stop trying to make him see otherwise and most importantly, Akiho will never abandon him for anything and already loves him wholly and unconditionally…and those two are all he’ll ever need to go on…

…but he has known and experienced too much to ever forget this feeling. 

The loneliness that nothing can totally cure, that nobody else but he can really understand. Because again, it was born within him, exists only within him and will always be a part of him.

But even so, even if the loneliness never vanishes, I will still be on his side. I don’t think his actions were “wrong” because if I were in his shoes with not many choices to pick from, I’d probably be pushed to do the same as well. I want to try to understand that much about him at least.

And of course, I want him to succeed in his plan, whatever it is, because I don’t believe for a second it can be malicious in any way.

More importantly, I want him to survive this ordeal and live to see better days. I want him to have the chance to overcome that loneliness because it’s not always going to be like that and he has the right to know what that feels like as well.

Because nobody deserves happiness more than Kaito. Because nobody in this entire goddamn story worked as hard as he did and actually put their life on the line and suffered through hell after hell after hell as much as he did.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Seven: Trying for Normal (Gifts)

Prev

AO3

“You can not honestly tell me you are thinking of announcing that girl as your daughter.” Damian says, his scowl deeper than Dick had seen it in a while.

“‘That girl’ has a name, Little D. Plus she’s your sister.” Dick says, resisting the urge to nudge him. They had gotten to the point where a small nudge wasn’t a death sentence, but Damian was on edge. And a small nudge would probably not be appreciated.

“I do not care what her name is, Grayson. Since coming to Gotham she has been involved in two separate Rogue attacks. She is suspicious at best, and a nuisance at worst.” He replies, crossing his arms.

“Enough, Damian. Marinette is not a nuisance. She simply has bad luck.” Bruce says, obviously trying to defend his daughter.

“And poor self-preservation skills. Talking back to the Joker? Snarking the Riddler? For an individual with no combat training, she gets much too involved in attacks. It is idiotic.” Damian argues, shaking his head.

“It might have something to do with the Paris situation. She said she’s been at attacks before, so she must have some experience with villains. And from what I read on the Ladyblog, none of the damage in Paris lasts. She just may not realize how dangerous it is for her to do here what she would do in Paris. We just need to warn her, or, at least remind her, that Gotham is a dangerous place.” Dick says, thinking back to her reaction to the Riddler and the Joker. She was definitely more tense with the Joker, despite the fact that both villains had arrived with armed goons. Maybe she thought the Riddler was less likely to kill someone, not true. Or maybe she- Dick frowns as he remembers a key difference between the attacks.

“I just realized something.” He says with a frown.

“Care to share with the rest of the room, Dickiebird?” Jason asks, strolling in and flopping onto a chair.

“She was more tense at the attack with the Joker, she seemed to understand that it was a dangerous situation. Sure, she talked back to him, but she didn’t try to fight back or anything. But at the attack with the Riddler, he wasn’t even targeting her at first. He was targeting the boy she’d been talking to. And she was more reckless, and then she fought back. She fought well, but it was still super dangerous.” Dick rambles, pacing as he explains the predicament.

“Is there a point to this? I feel like I walked in at the wrong time.” Jason calls out from his chair, feet propped up on the table in front of him.

“My point, Jay, is that Marinette has a crush.” Dick says, shuddering at the word like it’s something disgusting. (It is, his sister is too young for crushes and boyfriends).

“Is that why she ran off with him right after the attack?” Jason asks with a smirk. Dick feels his eyes practically shoot out of his head.

“She what!?” He yells, running over to the Batcomputer to look at the security footage from the wax museum. Spots that were targeted frequently, like the wax museum, had their security footage directly linked to the Batcave. Just in case of an emergency or in case an attack happened and they needed an extra set of eyes.

“I’m sure she didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t do.” Jason teases, and Dick pales.

“Shut up, Jason!” He moans, his typing turning frantic as he scrolls through the day’s footage. He stops when he gets to the moments after the battle. When the phones of the French students had all gone off. Frowning, he watches as his sister runs up to the boy and grabs his hand, leaning in and whispering to each other before the two run out of the room. Towards the bathrooms. Oh hell no. Dick scrolls forwards, frowning when they don’t come out in five minutes. Or ten minutes. Huffing, he switches to the cameras aimed at the exits. Surely one of the cameras had to catch the pair leaving the museum. He rewinds it and watches, but...there’s nothing. They don’t leave the bathrooms and they don’t leave the museum. For the rest of the day.

“Has anyone been in contact with her since the attack?” Bruce asks from right beside him, making him jump out of his seat with a yelp.

“I don’t even have her number.” Dick says, resisting the urge to glare at his adoptive father. He might’ve had Marinette’s number had Bruce actually acted like he wanted her to be there for dinner the other day. Instead, he practically ignored her and she left. And now she was missing. Definitely missing, because she never came out of the bathroom at the museum.

“Hello, Marinette? Yes, I apologize for calling so suddenly. I was- yes. Yes, I did hear about the attack….yes, that was part of the reason I was calling. I was wondering if you would like to come to dinner at the manor. You could bring your friend, Adrien Agreste, I believe was his name. Of course. Yes. Oh no, I’ll send a car. No, no I assure you it- Marinette please. Taxis aren’t always safe after dark. Thank you. Yes, I- we’ll see you then. Goodbye.” Bruce hangs up, and Dick looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Just gonna suddenly invite her and her boy toy to dinner, B? What’re you gonna do, interrogate them?” He asks frowning.

“That’s the second time that Marinette has ran off after that alarm. I’ve seen videos of the situation in Paris and I’m concerned. Now go upstairs and act normal. I want all of you on your best behaviors at dinner. Damian, better than best please. No weapons.” Bruce directs before leaving the room, presumably to ask Alfred to pick up Marinette. Dick sighs and looks at his brothers.

“Well this isn’t going to be a disaster or anything.” He says. --- “Tikki this is going to be a disaster!” Marinette whines, throwing herself face first onto the bed. She tries to ignore Tikki’s amused giggle. This was not funny. This was dinner with her family that she hadn’t made a great impression on the first time. And Adrien was invited, and she wasn’t sure where the two stood but she was sure that if Dick was at dinner, he would just push Adrien farther away from her.

“I could practically hear your suffering from Adrien’s room, pigtails.” Plagg says, making Marinette sit up and glare at the Kwami.

“Are you just here to mock me?” She asks, pouting. He snorts.

“No, I’m here to tell you the kid’s on his way over here. I told him you were panicking and he practically ran out his door.” Plagg says with a chuckle. Rapid knocking on the door makes him laugh more before dropping onto the bed next to Tikki. Marinette sighs, rolling off the bed and pulling the door open, jumping forward in time to catch Adrien before he completely falls to the ground.

“Are you okay? Plagg said you were panicking, did something happen?” He asks quickly, looking her up and down. Marinette blinks, slightly taken aback by his sudden concern. It was nice, but still a lot all at once. Shaking her head, she gestures for him to come in and shuts the door behind him. Walking back over to the bed, she once again face plants and groans.

“She’s nervous because Mr. Wayne invited the two of you to dinner.” Tikki chirps, giggling when Marinette lifts her head up enough to glare at her.

“Traitor.” She says, dropping her head back down.

“If you don’t want me to go with Marinette, I won’t.” Adrien says. Marinette immediately jumps up, shaking her head rapidly.

“No, no that’s not what I meant. I just- I’m nervous about actually sitting through a dinner with them. And I’m pretty sure Dick will try and sit between us and glare at you like he did at the museum.” She admits, cursing the way her cheeks heat up. Adrien raises an eyebrow.

“He was glaring at me?” He asks, utter confusion on his face. Marinette groans, dropping her head into her hands.

“Sometimes your obliviousness is cute-”

“You think I’m cute!”

“But right now, it’s kinda making me want to scream into my pillow.” Marinette admits, giving him her signature “not amused” look. A look she usually saves for when Chat Noir is making a pun.

“Wait, why wouldn’t Dick like me?” Adrien asks, thankfully stuck on that now instead of the fact that she thinks he’s cute.

“Um, maybe because we were holding hands? Did you really not notice how he kept standing in between us the entire time we were at the museum?” Marinette asks, suddenly unsure if she’d imagined the whole thing.

“Oh no, I did. I just didn’t think it meant he didn’t like me. I’ve never really dealt with siblings before. I mean, I’ve met Nino’s little brother but...that’s about it.” Adrien says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Marinette sighs, grinning softly.

“I don’t really have a lot of experience either, so maybe I was just imagining things.” She admits. Adrien’s shoulders instantly relax and she smiles. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, did you want me to come with?” He asks after a moment of silence. Marinette nods, agreeing immediately.

“Please. I don’t think I can go back there alone, not yet anyway.”

“Of course, Mari. Now, what’re you wearing?” --- The ride to Wayne Manor wasn’t as quiet as her first, with Adrien making quiet jokes and saying things to try and help keep Marinette out of her head. She was thankful that he had come with, because she was definitely going to need the emotional support to get through dinner. The car stops and Marinette sucks in a deep breath. Smoothing out her skirt nervously, Marinette glances at the small, neatly wrapped package sitting between her and Adrien. It was something she had started back when she first found out she was adopted. And that her parents didn’t know her bio dad. A scrapbook with copies of everything important from her life: baby pictures, school pictures, birth announcement, report cards, clippings from newspapers where she had won or placed in contests, pictures of her early designs and recent designs, pictures of certificates and trophies from various competitions and activities. Basically a road map of her life to be given to her bio dad so that he could get to know her. She’d written her name on the front page, with the words “daughter of Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le” underneath. A sort of amendment to her birth announcement which listed her as the daughter of Tom and Sabine Dupain Cheng. And while she definitely was their daughter, she also wanted Mr. Wayne to know that she wanted to be his daughter too. Not just by blood, which isn’t the important part. No, she wanted to get to know him and for him to get to know her. Pushing down the intruding thoughts insisting that it was too soon and that he didn’t want her in the first place, she opens the car door and steps out, clutching the package to her chest like a safety blanket.

“Would you like me to take that for you, Miss Marinette?” Alfred asks, glancing at the package.

“Oh, no thank you Alfred. It’s for my da- er, um, Mr. Wayne. I can hang onto it.” She says with a bright smile. She could do this. Sure, it didn’t go great the last time she was here. And she was pretty sure Mr. Wayne’s youngest son could kill her and wanted to kill her. But it was fine. Everything is fine. Walking through the front door, her shoulders relax slightly when she sees Dick is the only one standing there waiting for them.

“Marinette! He cheers, rushing forward and picking her up in a hug. As in, legitimately picking her up. Okay then.

“Good to see you too.” She says, trying not to show that he’s literally suffocating her with the hug.

“Good to see you again, Dick!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette feels Dick tense before setting her down, his smile less bright as he looks at Adrien.

“And you. Adrien, right?” He asks, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

“Yup!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette watches cautiously, noticing that Dick seems to be squeezing a little too hard….and then Adrien appears to match his strength, if the look on Dick’s face is anything to go by. Marinette coughs to hide a snort, her face heating up as both boys turn to look at her.

“Uh, is it just you and Mr. Wayne tonight?” Marinette asks, choosing to ignore their awkward handshake.

“Nope! It’s me and Bruce and Alfred, of course, and Jay and Tim and Damian and Cass. Steph’s not in town and Babs is having dinner with her dad.” Dick says, and Marinette’s eyes widen. There were a lot more people in her bio dad’s family than she thought. She knew about the boys, but she hadn’t seen anything about Cass, Steph or ‘Babs’.

“I didn’t realize I had sisters too.” She says instead of voicing her insecurities. Before she only had the boys to measure up against, now she had three girls too?

“Well, the only official sister is Cass. Steph used to date Tim and she just kinda stuck around. She’s practically family at this point. And Babs and I used to date, but again, she stuck around after and now she’s practically family.” Dick explains with a grin and a shrug. Cause having your exes around isn’t awkward. Or, maybe it isn’t. She doesn’t have any exes to compare it to. Just as she starts to get lost in her thoughts, she feels Adrien brush against her gently. Reminding her that he’s there, for her, giving her the strength she needs to follow Dick into the living room. Where everyone else was sitting. Oh boy.

“Marinette, so glad you could join us. And Mr. Agreste, nice to see you again.” Bruce says, standing from his spot and moving to shake Adrien’s hand.

“You as well, M. Wayne. And please, call me Adrien. Mr. Agreste is my father.” He says, and Marinette can just barely see his wince. His father always had been his least favorite subject, no matter how much or how little they spoke of him.

“Thanks for inviting us.” Marinette says, moving the package so that she’s no longer clutching it like a lifeline. Holding it out to Mr. Wayne, she laughs at his confused face. “It’s a present.” She adds.

“Oh, well, thank you.” He says, his face unreadable. Marinette shifts her weight, glancing between him and the package, waiting for him to open it. Or properly introduce her to the rest of the family. Either option would work at this point. Glancing at Dick, she sighs in relief when he claps. At least someone was going to make the first move.

“Right, so I don’t think you got the chance to meet Jason and Damian properly when you were here the other day.” Dick says, tugging her around a still frozen Bruce in front of the two boys from the other day.

“No, I didn’t. Hi, I’m Marinette.” She says, smiling and holding out a hand to Damian first. He tuts and turns away, making Marinette’s smile fall slightly before she turns to Jason. Jason grins and shakes her hand.

“Welcome to the family, kid.” He says, before whistling. “You didn’t get B’s height, that’s for sure.” He teases, Marinette snorts, her smile turning into a teasing smirk.

“Hey, don’t count me out for my height. Ever heard the phrase, small but mighty?” She asks, crossing her arms. Jason snorts, reaching out and messing up her hair.

“Whatever you say, Pixie Pop.” He replies. She rolls her eyes and turns to the other two siblings she hadn’t met.

“Hi, you must be Tim and Cass.” She says, smiling at both of them. Tim nods, his hand twitching towards his pocket. Marinette tries not to laugh, having seen Max do the same thing when he had to socialize for any amount of time. The boy was always far more comfortable with his phone in his hand, even if he wasn’t actually looking at it. Cass smiles, and Marinette notices her hands moving. “Sorry, could you repeat that, I wasn’t watching closely.” She says. Cass’ smile widens and she nods before starting over.

“Welcome to family. Nice to meet you.” Cass signs, making Marinette beam.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She says, eyes widening when she realizes she left Adrien alone with a frozen Mr. Wayne. Whirling around, she moved back to Adrien and tugged him forward, rolling her eyes at his surprised yelp. Honestly, he should expect this by now.

“Geeze, Princess. Give a man a warning.” He says, adjusting his shirt that she’d accidentally messed up.

“Sorry k- Adrien. Sorry. Anyway, uh, everyone this is my friend Adrien Agreste. Adrien this is Jason, Damian, Tim, Cass and you already know Dick.” Marinette introduces, gesturing to each of her new siblings. Adrien shoots a wide smile, not quite his model smile but also not quite a real one.

“Nice to meet you all.” He says.

“Marinette, I apologize. Did you want me to open this now?” Mr. Wayne asks suddenly. She turns and raises an eyebrow at his unreadable expression and the way he holds onto the present like he doesn’t know what to expect. Which is fair, considering they’d only met in person the day before.

“Oh, um, if you want to. It’s nothing big.” She says, watching nervously as he nods and unwraps it. His eyebrows twitch together as he looks at the book, obviously not yet understanding.

“Open it, B.” Dick whispers, clearly understanding the gift more than their father. Mr. Wayne nods and opens it, his unreadable expression falling into one that she...still can’t read. But it’s not emotionless anymore. As he flips through the book, a small smile creeps its way onto his face and Marinette almost cheers. That’s the most sincere look she’d ever seen on the man.

“Did you put all this together?” He asks, glancing up from the book to look at her. Marinette nods.

“When I found out I was adopted, I wanted to have something to give my bio dad. So that even if he didn’t want to see me in person, he could get to know me. When I found out you’re my, um, dad, I added some personal touches.” She says.

“And I can keep this?” He asks, and Marinette’s shocked that he sounds almost scared. As if he thinks she’ll say no and take everything back. She smiles.

“Of course. My Maman and Papa already have those pictures. These are all yours.” She says.

“Thank you, Marinette. I- This is an amazing gift.” He says. Marinette’s smile widens and her shoulders sag in relief. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[phoenixyfriend]

If you are doing them the soulmate fic starter 3 or 9 for rexwalker? I love all your star wars stuff so much

soulmate au prompts

3. the one where you and your soulmate have matching marks on your bodies. 9. the one where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your body.

Featuring marginally-less-terrible Jango with more excuses than usual.

------

The Kaminoans hate soul marks.

Rex knows this from the day he knows to ask. The Nulls and Alphas don’t have any soul marks, just scars where there was once a promise. The eldest clones have records, at least, where the scientists had taken photos before beginning th surgeries, but the marks themselves are long gone.

Prime had found out about the removals and thrown a fit, raging so intensely that Nala Se had ended up intubated from the damage he’d dealt, and she hadn’t been the only one. Rex isn’t old enough to remember that, but Cody is, and he whispers the story in the dead of night more than once. Nobody likes Prime very much, except Boba, but that’s one of the few instances they can point to and say ‘he cares more than he likes to admit.’

It’s anathema on Mandalore, one brother claims, a light in his eyes that Rex hasn’t ever seen before. That’s what I heard him telling one of the aruetti trainers.

So is refusing your children so much as a name, another grouses, and the conversation dies an ugly little death. So is letting your children die just because you don’t think they’re good enough. So is turning your back from even letting them be part of your house, let alone part of your clan. Sounds like he cares more about our soul marks than he does for our lives.

Rex doesn’t know how to address that. He does get a personal visit from Prime, one day, gets asked to show his little marking to the man that is, in some ways, his father.

“Another one,” Jango Fett mutters to the trainer that came with him, the woman holding a datapad and ready to record whatever it is that they’re looking for. He passes a thumb over the marking, frowning. “A lightsaber, lit white, with pale blue halo, between a set of symbolic Jaig eyes. The eyes are dark blue, slightly desaturated. I think they’re meant to frame it like an exaggerated beskad crossguard.”

“Sir?” Rex asks.

“That makes six,” Jango says, still so quiet, and then shakes his head. “Thank you for showing me, 7567.”

“Rex,” he corrects, before he can second-guess himself. “I’m Rex.”

“Thank you, Rex.”

------

The rumors say that anyone with a lightsaber soul mark is going to have a jedi for a soulmate.

Rex isn’t sure how true that is, but he’s eager to find out.

Prime gets more erratic, more unpleasant at times and almost awkwardly nice at others. Rex meets the others who got Jedi soul marks. He’s the youngest, so far.

Jango tells them all to hide the markings, and to keep them secret. They’d already all known that much, that only batchmates should be told about soul marks. All the adults that should know already do, after all.

“Where’s your dad going?” Rex asks once, when Boba’s been handed over to Cody’s squad for looking after while Prime goes haring off on some trip that nobody gets to know about. Rex hangs out with Cody’s squad more than his own batch, it feels like, but that’s a whole thing that he’s not supposed to talk about since the late transfer to command track.

“Dunno,” Boba says, kicking his feet back and forth. “My soul mark came in. Something about it made him really angry, I think.”

Rex doesn’t ask to see it.

It’s not his place.

------

The Alpha batch is getting quieter, angrier, and end up in hushed conversations with Prime and some of the trainers so often that the rumors start up harder than before. Rex keeps his head down, because the Kaminoans get antsier when Jango does. Soul marks come up more often, and Rex gets called in to talk to the Alpha clones about his mark. He’s not supposed to, but Prime says it’s important, and Prime is in charge.

“Oh, is that all it took?” one of the Alphas sneers, and Prime shoots them a look that has Rex taking a few hasty steps back. The Alpha clone isn’t even fully grown yet, by natborn standards, but they don’t back down. “What, ready to stop being a dar’buir--”

“That’s enough,” Prime says, low and hard, and the Alpha clone rolls their eyes. “There’s a child here.”

“So now you care about that?”

Rex is escorted back to his rooms.

------

Decommissioning finally stops, for all that it requires Jango almost decapitating a Kaminoan, and someone Rex hopes he never sees again shows up.

(His memory is blurred. He’s sure the man was human, and tall. Elderly enough to have white hair, probably? A... there was fabric that swished when he turned, something dramatic, but...)

(He is not the only one that cannot remember.)

It takes years for anything else to come of it all... at least where the clones can see.

------

Rex is fully grown, as far as clones go. His aging is supposed to slow down to ‘natborn normal’ now, because he’s reached his full height and most of his brainpower, and he’s officially old enough to fight on the field if the war starts tomorrow.

It might.

“Hey, look up.”

Rex listens, and looks, and sees a natborn with Nala Se, pale skinned and with reddish hair, soaked to the bone. They wear robes, brown and heavy-looking. Even as he watches, another natborn jogs up from behind, also sodden and pale, but with darker hair that sticks up despite the water. A third joins them, a tad slower and more controlled; this one wears all white, and they--maybe she?-- are slight and small and poised in a way that Rex thinks might be how a natborn leader carries themselves, if they aren’t a soldier.

They pass on through the walkway, showing emotions that the Kaminoans can’t read and the clones absolutely can. None of it is... good.

“Shit,” someone mutters. “That was a Jedi.”

“Venn--”

“What if they don’t want us?”

------

Rex is called to Prime’s rooms.

He tries not to look at the wide eyes of the brothers he’s been gossiping with, just stands and pulls on his full kit. He hesitates at his bucket, but then pops it on and marches to what might be his doom. It’s probably not.

He hopes it’s not.

He knocks, and is let in by Boba, and sits down on the couch when Prime tells him to. He removes his helmet when asked. Boba hops up onto the couch between Rex and his father, and leans in against Rex’s side.

There’s a list on the table, one he recognizes, quickly writing out all the paired elements on the Jedi-Clone soul marks. Nobody who isn’t already involved in the project would know it. He spots the ‘yellow tickets’ that Bly got tattooed on his face recently, the ones he won’t claim are or aren��t related to his mark. He spots his own listing of Jaig eyes.

“Prime?”

His... progenitor, maybe, in this situation, looks at him, and holds up a hand. “You saw the list. You can guess why Rex is here.”

Oh. Prime’s using his name without prompting. That’s nice.

“I can’t read it,” the younger Jedi says, with something that might be a pout. Rex wants  to roll his eyes, but his helmet is on the table. People would see.

“It’s in Mando’a,” the elder tells him, voice low, and then glances between Rex and the younger Jedi. “Fett, how did you know which one to call? I can guess some things, but--”

“I have a good eye. The hilts are all different. Only one matches.”

“I see.”

Rex fidgets, and tries not to wonder at... at... oh. The younger Jedi’s lightsaber hilt does match Rex’s soul mark.

Boba notices when Rex starts picking at his glove, pressing a finger right to the mark on his wrist, and frowns up at him. He grabs Rex’s hand to still it, and tries to ask a question with his eyebrows. He is mostly unsuccessful.

“Anakin,” the elder Jedi says. Rex still doesn’t know his name. “Your hand, please?”

“Why?”

“...you’ll understand in a minute,” the Jedi says, long-suffering in the way of the trainers who dealt with the youngest cadets. “Your hand. No, the other one.”

“Why do you need my hand?”

“Reasons, Anakin. You there, ah... Rex, was it?”

“Yessir.”

The Jedi flinches. “Right. I suppose I’ll have to get used to that... right, Rex, can you come here? I imagine you know what it is that I’m looking to compare.”

Rex has been taught to listen to Jedi, but he has no idea who he’s supposed to listen to here. The older Jedi is probably in charge, but Rex hasn’t been assigned to anyone yet, so isn’t Prime still technically the closest thing he has to a CO?

He glances at Prime, who just gestures for Rex to go ahead with it.

Rex pulls off a glove, pulls back his sleeve, and bares the symbol on his wrist for inspection.

The younger Jedi’s face morphs from confused irritation to surprise, and then... something Rex doesn’t want to analyze too closely. He’s not sure if it’s wonder or horror. He wasn’t aware the expressions could look so similar.

The Jedi--Anakin--pulls back his own sleeve, moves his wrist to Rex’s and watches as the marks glow faintly from the proximity.

“Looks like Fett was right,” the elder Jedi mutters. He doesn’t sound happy. He looks at the other natborn, the one Rex is pretty sure is a woman, and raises an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, eyes closed.

“You said there were others?” the elder Jedi prompts, and Prime nods. “We are no more open about our marks than most, but I can spot one, maybe two, that I can guess at. I’d need to see the actual markings to confirm, of course, and I imagine that wouldn’t be something anyone would be happy with.”

“The rest can happen naturally,” Prime dismisses. “This was just proof.”

“Not just proof, I hope,” the Jedi mutters. “I’m.. I have to call the Council.”

Rex sees the panic in Anakin’s face, and is seized by the urge to do something, anything, to fix it.

“Obi-Wan, you can’t let them--”

“Nobody’s going to separate you,” the elder Jedi says. Obi-Wan, apparently. “And there’s no ‘let,’ Anakin, they outrank me. Significantly. Right now, I’m concerned about the implications of this war, of multiple of these cloned soldiers that have been indoctrinated to fight for and serve the Jedi having soulmates among us, especially given that I have no idea how recently our wartime protocols on such things were updated. There is an entire army that is supposedly in our name, ordered by a man ten years dead.”

“Count Dooku is involved,” Prime says, dark and satisfied and petty. “Calling himself Darth Tyrannus. The Kaminoans mostly believe he is an isolated and reclusive Jedi Master that serves as their contact when Sifo-Dyas is unavailable.”

The Jedi named Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and then stands. “Right. That’s... well, alright, I absolutely have to call the Council now.”

Prime smiles, pulling Boba into his side. Rex finds himself tugged down to sit where Obi-Wan had been a few moments earlier.

“Why are you telling us all this?” the natborn woman says. “This Count sounds like he hired you, did he not?”

“The project predated his involvement, but yes, he’s my supervisor, so to speak.” Prime smiles that same dark smile, runs a hand over Boba’s head and pointedly doesn’t look at Obi-Wan. That smile is... unpleasant. Rex doesn’t want to look at it, and so he looks down to the faint glow at his wrist instead. “Did you know, they told me the clones would be sub-sentient and halfway to droids? Not really people? That my DNA was for the bodies, but the minds would be little more than lines of code? Do you know how much they hated that I saw the evidence of their lies written into my children’s skin?”

Rex jolts, head whipping about and hand pulling away from his soulmate, staring at Prime, his mouth agape in a way a soldier’s shouldn’t but--but he’s--

Rex has never, ever heard the Prime refer to any of them except Boba as his child. His copies, his echoes, his clones, but not his children.

A hand curls into his, and he looks down to find Anakin’s lacing their fingers together. He looks up into a hopeful, unsure smile.

Anakin tilts his head and leans in, lips to Rex’s ear, and says, “When I told Obi-Wan he was like a father to me, he didn’t even know how to respond. Just made a bad joke about it and then pretended it didn’t happen. Is this the same?”

“...close enough,” Rex breathes out, because now isn’t the time to explain just how different a clone’s existence is from what they’ve seen in the holos meant to prepare them for interacting with civilians. That ‘family’ here has always been brothers, your squad and any brother that chooses to take you on, or a brother you choose to nurture, that the Alphas raise them more than Prime or the trainers do, that the older squads are who they turn to because the adults won’t help, that they don’t have parents, and they are discouraged from thinking of children in their futures.

(Protecting intellectual property, one of the scientists had mused. They’d made it very, very difficult for any of the clones to impregnate a partner. Not impossible, because to make it impossible was itself impossible, but... nearly so.)

“There’s millions of us,” Rex says instead. “He doesn’t... he doesn’t usually acknowledge most of us as his.”

Anakin’s face twists, already angry, and the glare he aims at Prime is ghastly. Rex might already be a little in love, just for that. The way Anakin’s fingers squeeze around his is nice, too.

Prime does not notice.

“Can I see the contract you say you signed?” the natborn woman says, and Prime eyes her. He nods, at length, weighing her worth and finding she measures up to whatever it is that he’s decided is necessary.

“Boba, go pack like we’re going on a hunt,” Prime says, pulling out a personal datapad and only dropping his gaze to find the right file. “We’ll probably be leaving tonight.”

“Okay, buir,” Boba says, sliding off the couch. “Am I telling the Alphas the thing you said?”

“No, I’ll handle that myself. You just pack.” He stands, nods to the natborn woman, and moves around the table. “Senator, I’ll sit with you, if you don’t mind. I imagine you and Knight Kenobi are the best suited to get this problem fixed.”

“And me?” Anakin demands.

“You,” Prime says, with a just a hint of condescending drawl. “have just met your soulmate. I assumed you’d want some privacy to get to know each other.”

Anakin flushes, a little angry and a lot embarrassed. It’s frighteningly cute. “I--I mean--I don’t--”

“The clones are mentally the ages they look, but do remember they’ve had practically no time to gain any sort of experience,” Prime says, already ignoring them in favor of pointing something out on the datapad to the senator. “Take advantage of any of my kids, and I’ll be the one hunting you down. I’m told I’m rather good at it.”

Anakin’s face does some acrobatics. Rex would pay more attention, but he can feel himself turning just as red.

“Rex, you know where the private meeting room is,” Prime says, and waves a hand in the direction of the tiny, tiny office that’s by the door. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Be nice,” the Senator hisses, smacking Prime’s arm.

“He’s ten.”

“...still.”

Rex just stands and pulls Anakin away to the little room before things can get worse.

They’re delayed when Obi-Wan asks what they’re doing from the kitchen he’s been using to get a spot of privacy, but then Anakin says “we’re just going to talk, Master,” and they get an aggrieved sigh and a response of “the clothes stay on, padawan, and you’ll need to finish up whatever conversation you have soon, there’s work to do and being a padawan only excuses you from so much.”

Rex backs into the meeting room, yanks Anakin in, and then decides to throw caution to the wind and just press their lips together.

Oh.

Okay.

He’s kissing back.

Lack of caution: good.

The mark at his wrist thrums, warm and comfortable, and Rex pulls away. He stifles the noise he wants to make, and when Anakin whines, small and soft but clearly disappointed, Rex offers him a small grin he knows would get him called ‘shy’ by his asshole older brothers.

“We probably should actually get to know each other,” Rex says. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“I... yeah, I don’t know yours either, unless it’s Fett.”

“It’s not. I don’t have one.”

Anakin’s face does another one of those ‘I’m angry for you’ twists that Rex is quickly coming to recognize, and then he sighs and falls into one of the chairs. “Okay. So. I don’t know much about the soldier life. Tell me about it.”

And he does.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kabby + "Your hands are shaking."

Post-s2 grayspace is always a fun time + honestly a squirrel bite PROBABLY wouldn't do significant damage right? PG-ish and also on ao3.

If this strange new world doesn’t kill him, she just might.

Abby is still resolving some of her emotional developments, which is to say it’s been a month since the last time she almost died and that’s given her just enough time to realize that changes in certain dynamics may not have just been temporary and panic-induced. She’s trying to be vague about it to keep her options open, because she knows this doesn’t work out long-term, because the idea of living in a world where someone who’s been her nemesis for most of her life isn’t is destabilizing and-

Fine, there are a lot of things going on and even her usual ability to thrive in chaos is hitting a few limits she didn’t know she had, but somehow this is the most distressing part. Trying to reestablish some kind of normal on the ground… not easy, not going according to anyone’s plans, but probably doable. Not knowing where her daughter is… not good, but there’s probably some kind of reason for that and Abby isn’t worried about survival abilities there at the very least. Actually caring about someone who has repeatedly and intentionally ruined her life over a period of multiple decades but apparently hit his head at some point during his attempt at getting himself killed by the elements six weeks ago and has since attempted a quiet but bizarre redemption tour…

The problem isn’t just that Marcus has rapidly and unexpectedly fixed almost every issue any living thing has ever had with his personality, although that’s still weird as hell and again Abby is pretty sure some kind of brain trauma is the most likely explanation. No, the problem is along with this sudden not-being-a-terrible-person behavior, he’s also lost the survival drive that made him useful even when he was doing unlikable things like, y’know, trying to kill her. At least up in the sky he was a competent asshole. Down here, she’s not so sure about that. Down here…

“And what exactly happened?” she asks, even though she would prefer to have no idea why she’s currently disinfecting some kind of bite on her counterpart’s thigh. At least whatever got him this time was small, but small with fangs is still not friendly wildlife, and-

“Something in the vicinity of a squirrel,” he replies in an even enough tone to suggest he probably rehearsed this explanation on the way back home. “It didn’t bite anyone else, before you even-“

“Before I what, exactly?”

She’s going to kill him. If mutant squirrels don’t beat her to it – she’ll process that that’s the latest competition later – she will, so help her.

“Never mind.”

“If you think I’m so concerned about you, you could just say-“

“I don’t need to say anything. Your hands are shaking. That’s clear enough.”

She glances down and the worst part is he’s not wrong. There is visible concern in her movements, and thankfully she’s just trying to clean the dried blood off the wound not do anything more to it, and-

“You can’t do this to me,” she murmurs, well aware that her fear will not be respected. “You can’t go and do stupid shit and-“

“I wasn’t sure you cared before.”

Abby makes a low bitter noise and looks away, not trusting how her face might betray her since apparently no part of her body is listening to her mind right now. “I’ve dealt with you in this sort of position how many times in the past few months and you still weren’t sure-“

“The debt of trying to keep someone alive is not the same as-“

“Damn right it isn’t,” she mutters. “But whatever game you’re playing… you can stop now. I don’t hate you anymore. I’m not sure I ever have. And trying to make friends with every mutant creature that crosses your path isn’t-“

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

She refocuses on the task at hand, and at least whatever bit him didn’t even go deep enough to scar. The wound had closed neatly enough before she got to it, she’s more cleaning it than actually trying to mend, and everything will be okay, and-

“I’m tired,” she murmurs, and she hasn’t said those words out loud in a very long time. “I am so, so tired. And you might be the only person who’d listen to me if I asked you to-“

“I will try not to get attacked by mutant rodents if I can avoid it,” he says, and this too feels rehearsed, like he’s trying to follow a script they used to cling to that doesn’t apply as much as it once did. “Is that what you want?”

“I need you to avoid more than mutant rodents. Unnecessary risk. Period. I know that’s not where you are right now but-“

“I don’t know where I am. But if it makes you happy…”

“You don’t need to fix what you’ve done by trying to bleed out.”

They’ve had this conversation before, a month ago when neither of them wanted to move, when they’d both nearly bled out and it had been a mutual decision to be miserable and useless together for a few days until stubbornness pushed them out of mandatory rest. It feels different now as a free choice, as something with actual motivation behind it and-

“What if that’s all there is?”

“Not right now,” she replies. “I can’t… I can’t talk you down right now. Not when you’ve just gone and-“

“Let it go. I’m fine.”

“This time, yes. Next time? I can’t know.”

They are too close to an edge, too close to too many things that could be destruction or salvation or maybe those are one and the same. But not right now. She can’t let it. Not right now. Not…

“I’ll try. For you.”

She can almost believe him.

Almost.

[plush-rabbit]

Mental Toll - Brothers.

Request: My mom kicked me out, her 15 year old daughter out of her house. And I've been staying with my aunt but everything is taking a mental toll on me . Can I get a Beel, mammon, Leviathan, or asmo comfort?

A/N: Sweetheart, I’m sorry for this. It can be all so difficult for you, but please take care of yourself. Remember that nothing is your fault, you’re a child, you’re gonna be okay. Please don’t keep these emotions bottled up (im also assuming this is comfort on your situation, so yeah)

-

Mammon:

You’ll always have a place with him. He’s taken on a guardian role for you and while he might have hated it at first, he’s grown attached to you. Your guardians in the Human Realm don't matter. They decided to leave you, so now you’re here with him and he isn’t going to abandon you anytime soon. Mammon may not know what to do when he finds you crying and unable to speak, but he cares and he’ll try to show that to you, telling you that you can bunk with him for the night- you get to take his bed and he’ll sleep on the couch, you don’t have to be alone.

He isn’t exactly the best at comforting, using a bit too many words only to come up short, but once that initial nervousness wears off, he’s comforting. He’s taken care of a child before- granted they were much younger, and was then put into the care of witches- he knows what a scared kid looks like. He’ll offer what he can to you and let you rest your head on his bicep as he listens to you ramble about what happened. He won’t ever push for you to talk, but it might help sort out all those feelings that are bubbling up inside of you.

Of course it’s difficult for the both of you. He isn’t too knowledgeable about the mentality and fragility of a human mind and emotions but he can assume to be essentially kicked out of a parent’s home can be rough. He’s dealt with it before even if he knew the risks. He remembers the nights of pain and agony, the silent suffering that was thick in the air, and the lack of self-care. He comes in with a small meal every day, grabbing random vitamins that he thinks might be good for you, and just lets you rest. You see a more hidden side of Mammon, the one that cares too much, that acts almost like a parental figure and have a comforting smile and gives nice hugs.

You aren’t free to rest forever. He’s also seen what that kind of damage that can do to someone's mental health. He won’t ever pressure you to go out and do something you don’t want to, but you do have to move from the spot on his bed. You can hide yourself in his room for as long as you want, but you can’t live your life stuck in a bed. He knows that that isn’t good for anyone. You’ll have all the space that you could want and need, but you need to also talk to him and take care of yourself.

It’s his role as your guardian to take care of you and make sure that nothing bad would happen to you- you being in the Human Realm makes no difference to that. You’re still under his protection and he’ll take care of you as much as he can. Mammon can be brash, and have his sin take over, but it isn’t all that he is. He can be selfless and take care of you and let you just relax around him. There’s no pressure put on you and he’ll protect you. He promises that- he’s a demon, he’s lived for a long time and he’ll live for an even longer time and as long as he’s around, he’ll protect you.

Leviathan:

Coming to Leviathan is certainly a choice. He cares- of course he does! But, he doesn’t know what to do. Of course he knows how it feels, but it was different and so long ago and buried under memories and the fictional world, that he chose to forget that. It’s different with you. You’re a child who’s crying and at a loss for a parent that left them and it must hurt. He’s awkward, but he’ll sit by you and have a hand on your back telling you to take all the time that you need. He’s always here in his room after all, so you can always find him.

In the beginning, he doesn’t know what to do. Surely, there should be words or tips online that could help him translate his words and feelings better than “that sucks.” An apology feels so fake and unsure and he doesn't want that for you. You deserve something real, an actual meaningful interaction that might help you but he comes up blank. He doesn’t know what exactly he should say, so he just lets you rest beside him as he tells you his own encounter with abandonment and what helped him.

He tries to make you feel better in a way that helps him- via distractions. It helped him and maybe it could help you. You like to spend time with him so you both must share some type of interest in common. He feels so proud of himself when he offers you to read his manga or play some of his games. It’s a nice distraction and depending on what you choose, it can be a great way to just open up emotions and see what could effectively help trigger just that blockade of emotions for the both of you. You don’t have to do it, but it proves to be nice to just immerse yourself in some fictional tale.

Eventually, he starts to read what you read once you’ve fallen asleep. You gravitated towards it for a reason and it’s easier to talk to you like that. You get to be the hero, the protagonist or whoever you want, and he knows the struggles that they go through. He can help through an outside glance. It starts off simple, just him mentioning comments, prying for information about why you like a certain character and then in just a blink of an eye, you’re crying. You opened up and he’s by your side.

Comforting you is a bit awkward, but what could he expect. He sits by you and lets you talk through your emotions even if it makes no sense- your words are garbled and out of order- but he gets the main point of it. Leviathan understands that you’re hurting and who wouldn’t be. You’re a child, and the love of a parental figure means a lot. He might not be confident to have that type of relationship with you, but he can certainly be a big brother who lets you come into his room and sleep in a futon that he has when you’re feeling particularly lonely.

Asmodeus:

His eyes are sad, the usual glow and glimmer dimmed and his smile once beautiful and stretched, it pulled into a soft frown. Even in sadness, he still looks beautiful. With a gentle pull, he brings you into his room, and lets you set your stuff down on the floor. Asmodeus holds your face in his hands and gingerly wipes away your tears. You’ve had such a long day and it’s no secret that he has the best bath in the house, so he lets you go use it in order to destress, just enough to clean yourself and have time to gather your feelings and thoughts.

The room is suited to him and to only him, but he figures that you wouldn’t want to be alone. He has to rid some of the extra pillows on the bed, rid of the stronger scents in the room in order to not congest you more, and just declutter his room a bit more. It’s suited for him, a demon who can and lives for the finer things, but for you, he needs you to be able to breathe. The sheets are replaced, the towel that he has set for you soft and fluffy and the clothes clean and smelling like the house, a much better scent than the stitched to your clothes. He sends it to you via magic, wanting you to come to him when you’re ready.

When you approach him, he gives you a comforting smile and pats the bed beside him. He grabs your hand and massages it slowly, telling you that he’ll be here for you if you need anything. You can talk to him or choose not to, and he won’t pressure you in the slightest. You can take your time to talk to him. He feels a bit bad that he can’t tell you that everything will be okay, he knows it will, so sure of it that he’d bet himself on it, but it isn't what you want to hear. You just need to know that he’s right there by your side.

For now, you’re okay. You’re safe in his room and he likes being an older brother- at least to a few. He likes to spoil people rotten, and he gets to do that with you. You get to have everything good and shiny. You’re going to be okay when you stick with him, because he won’t let anything happen to you. He’s going to be your new home, your new big brother.

The process is tough, and he doesn’t rush anything. It’s subtle with Asmodeus and being ever so careful with his appearance, he makes sure to take care of yours. Mental health is so fragile and he just wants you to be okay. He’ll offer substitutions if certain activities can feel a bit too difficult for you, but he doesn’t push too much. You still have to take care of yourself and it might feel overbearing, but he needs to take care of you.

Beelzebub:

Family means everything to Beelzebub. At the very end of it, it’s part of the core of who he is. He feels your pain and is empathetic when you tell him what happened and he holds you close, letting you rest on his bed as he sits on the edge with a comforting hand rubbing circles on your back. He’s a demon, he knows just how cruel others can be, and yet, to see someone hurt someone as young as you, it makes him sick.

Your tears hit him hard and he can only hug you as you cry into him about your situation. There are too many emotions inside of you and it must be so difficult for you to handle all of them and he wishes he could help take that away, but he can only hold you and make sure that you sleep in a position that won’t hurt your neck once the tears have tired you out. It’s the little things that he does for you until you come to him and explain everything to him, and he’ll listen and won’t interrupt.

During this time, he tries to not be imposing. He doesn’t want you to run from him so he’ll give you time to come to him when you’re ready. He checks up on you often, knocking on your door and entering with a few snacks. He’ll stay if you ask him and talk to you about mundane stuff. A part of him wonders if that’s really what you want to hear, but he can’t say anything different. He doesn’t know what it is that you want to hear and he doesn’t want to pressure you any further. Anyways, it seems like you like to listen to him during these moments. Maybe, he provides a nice distraction.

He’ll always make sure that he has his phone on him in case you need him. He’s told you before that you can contact him whenever you want, and that he’ll come running to you. He’s sure it’s his big brother instincts taking over. He may be the sixth brother, but it doesn’t remove the fact that he has a twin. It’s only by his power that he ranks sixth. With you, he can be a big brother and be the cool and caring type that takes care of you. You can always come to him whenever you need something and he’ll make sure to give you whatever you want.

It comes to no surprise that you two develop a strong bond and you start to stick to him and he welcomes that. He won’t leave you alone unless you ask him to and he always makes sure to include you in whatever activity he has. During lunch, he’ll sit with you and listen to you and he’s glad that you're starting to feel better around him. You’ve both grown quite attached and he tries to do good by you. Beelzebub will give you whatever you need because beside his twin, you’re the youngest in the family. He’ll reassure you that nothing is your fault, that you’re only a child and that you’ll be okay. You’ve been there for him and he’ll be there for you.

[cookie-de-baunilha]

Show!John saying that “hope is at the very heart of love” line really sums up how far his mischaracterization goes in the show lol

@brotherhoodoftheblade take on John’s trust and abandonment issues is spot on.

I’d like to add that John is overall perceived as a whole, unscathed person. Compared to Percy, for example, who is described by Diana as “fractured” — which he is, obviously, but Diana doesn’t seem to believe that John is, too, a very fractured person himself. Well, too bad, because she is the one who wrote him as a fucking mess to begin with?? lmao

The deaths of his father and Hector messed up John’s perception of love completely. Especially if we consider the suppressed grief in the aftermath of his father’s murder (caused by him being alienated by his closer family members — no, it doesn’t really matter if Hal had the best of intentions and was trying to keep John safe, that still caused a big psychological damage to John who was literally a CHILD). And also the fucked up way John dealt with Hector’s death — drinking and whoring your pain into numbness is not a healthy way of dealing with grief either, and that goes a long way to show John’s self-destructive tendencies.

And then he meets Jamie (again) at Ardsmuir, after the Carryarick Pass incident. 10 years after Culloden, and the loss of Hector was still an open wound to him. At that point, his feelings for Jamie gravitated between hate, thirst for revenge, a surprising mutual understanding over grief and common values, physical attraction, guilt over the memory of Hector — after all, he was falling in love with the Jacobite enemy. All of that when he is feeling very isolated in Ardsmuir and finds in Jamie someone he can openly talk to. The road to disaster was paved.

So when we take a closer look at his trauma, how can we call his perpetual pining for Jamie anything if not self-sabotage??

Yes, he is scared of love. He is scared of the vulnerability that comes with it. He loved his faher, his father died. He loved Hector, Hector died. He is scared of loss. He loved Percy, he lost him, too — not to death, but there’s also the grief that comes with heartbreak and break up.

He uses Jamie as his emotional shield. That got even deeper after Percy imho. John is kind of a control freak, and with Jamie he already knows beforehand how things will work. It’s safer. As @britishguyslover said before, Jamie cannot hurt him like an actual lover. Jamie cannot ever cheat on him like Percy, they don’t have a relationship. And the loss of Jamie to death would never be the same as the loss of Hector.

That kinda bites him in the ass though, because John is miserable and feels completely lost when he thinks Jamie is dead in Echo. But that still isn’t the same as losing Hector.

I know that the shared grief between John and Claire is what leads to their uhm… bonding. But I wouldn’t go as far as saying that Jamie’s “death” meant the same thing for John as it did for Claire. It’s clearly different, no matter how important their friendship is, no matter how much John loves Jamie. Claire’s grief is different. That is not to say that John wasn’t suffering (he obviously was), or that his grief is less important (measuring grief is not a good thing). But in John’s experience, the pain of losing Hector, that was the pain of losing an actual lover to death. Jamie wasn’t his lover, so it can never be, truly, the same thing.

But how come he felt so lost when Jamie died?

He’d lost people before. Some of them dearly loved, more than life itself. But now he’d lost himself. (An Echo In The Bone, ch. 93)

Well, John calls Jamie his “True North”. No one should be putting other people in that position in their lives — each person should be their own True North, John would do well realizing that. But with John is even worse, it’s not like he is placing an actual lover in that position (which would be problematic enough), he puts Jamie in it, a man who can’t ever reciprocate his feelings.

So Jamie goes on living his life as a happily married man (after Claire comes back to the past at least) and John… John can’t even open himself to a real relationship with a man who loves him — and a man he is actually falling in love with too!! He builds up a wall before even trying — and that too bites him in the ass, because no matter how hard he tries to deny it, he realizes, too late, that he did love Percy.

And after Percy there’s no one else. Sure, there were one night stands and friends with benefits. Lots of those casual things. Love? Serious long-term relationships? Never again.

So it’s odd to me that John spends so much energy on Jamie — who is, very much like John, an honorable man and a strong warrior, with firm beliefs and values — electing him as the “True North” of his life, but is unable to put that kind of energy and care into himself. That sounds a lot like self-sabotage to me.

As @brotherhoodoftheblade insightfully pointed out before, he uses Jamie — a man who is very much like himself — as a talisman for his own emotions. It’s like Jamie is a bottle in which he can deposit his own heart, seal it and place it high upon a shelf and never think about it. And the sense of identity that he has with Jamie plays a big part in it.

At first glance, saying that John believes no one is capable of loving him completely might sound harsh, and while I agree with @brotherhoodoftheblade that this question demands a longer and specific analysis, I think it’s fair to say that yes, we could draw that conclusion from John’s self-sabotage/self-destructive behavior and his trust issues.

But it can also be that he is just scared to be vulnerable and get hurt/lose someone he loves again, not necessarily that he believes no one will ever love him completely.

And it might be both, too. Maybe his issues make him scared of loss and because of that he (unconsciously) believes that no one will ever love him again like Hector did? Basically living in the past because he is afraid.

And his relationship with Hector was that juvenile, first love type, and John’s memories of him come across to me as something kind of idealized — which is expected of a teenager experiencing love for the first time with an older and more experienced partner whom he looks up to (also losing Hector to death and not because something went wrong with the relationship leaves him with that idealized version in his head. He doesn’t know what could’ve been with Hector, he was taken from him too soon. Losing Hector broke his heart but Hector himself never did).

Because in the end of the day, it’s all about John opening himself to a reciprocate love, after Hector. It’s not just about him being comfortable with the idea of loving someone; it’s about him being comfortable with the idea of loving someone in a way he cannot control, meaning, someone who loves him back.

I absolutely LOOOVE it that Percy comes back in the beginning of book 7 and immediately points out some of John's less attractive qualities (having a cynical nature and being cruel). Because he loves John with all of these...

Can't say any other character calls him out on this.

And then the show absolutely misinterprets John's character by making him completely good and soft-hearted and someone who believes in love ("Hope is the very heart of love." - LOL). And utterly removes his 'bad' qualities.

But even Percy doesn't see or just doesn't say that John can be quite dishonest and aloof, contrary how he is seen by others (and himself??)

That just makes me wonder... if John himself believes no one could actually love him completely? Because let's be real, the only one who truly did love him since Hector died was Percy (and when Hector died, John was a way different person...and basically still a kid).

[troublesometrollhunters]

Being Adopted by the Order

~ Growing up in the Order was interesting. You were a new Polymorph Changeling discovered later in life after an accident happened with the paperwork and placement. You slipped through the cracks and sadly you had no idea what you were until recently.

~ Joining the Order as a teen, Strickler was your designated mentor since you lived in Arcadia and went to his highschool. He was to catch you up on everything you'd missed and help with any of your issues. Nomura and Otto part of Stricklers teams were higher ups you were to report too if Stricklander was busy. You weren't supposed too work yet and they were just there to answer your questions and prepare you for life later on.

~ Changelings by nature are protective of their young and you being younger than them it took a lot of self control not to baby you. That self control was gone by your first week in the Order. It seemed you'd been adopted by the group.

~ Father or Dad Strickler, Papa/Uncle Otto, and Wine Aunt Nomura. It was strange at first but it quickly became normal and you enjoyed being spoiled by the three.

~ When you began "working" at the Order your jobs were kept small and controlled. The Changelings want to keep your information filtered and protected. It's mostly just mild paperwork and learning how all the machines work.

~ They were quiet about the darker parts of the Order doing their best to slowly ease you into it. You may be older but you aren't old enough to know the full truth yet or anything about Gunmars coming. As much as Otto wants to tell you hoping you'll become a Gunmar enthusiast like him Nomura and Strickler persuade him to keep it a secret a little longer.

~ Strickler is in charge of your indoctrination into the Order and adjusting you to living a double life. He also handles a lot of your emotional needs and is a therapist as well as a mentor. Nomura is responsible for your more physical needs. She handles training and controlling your troll side. As a changeling you must know how to fight, people out there will try and hurt you, she wants you prepared for when they can't help you. Otto handles a lot of the paperwork and contacts for the Order but he helps you with your polymorph abilities as they're rare and he's one of the most successful ploymorphs. He teaches you to shift and how much you can shift before it hurts you.

~ The museum, the school, and the Orders office become like second homes. Your parents are informed you have an internship for school, a small job at a travel agency, and volunteer work at the museum. Slowly your distanced from your human family but you dont even notice as you feel so comfortable with your changeling one.

~ Otto is the most affectionate with you. He gives you hugs whenever he sees you and praises you. He brags about you whenever he can and keeps a picture of you in his wallet. Him and Strickler are constantly fighting over the best dad slot in your life. Strickler is the second most affectionate, giving you small displays of affection to show he cares. A shoulder squeeze, saying he's proud. Small but meaningful actions. Meanwhile Nomura really only touches you when your fighting. She cares deeply about you but being a changeling she's dealt with a lot of loss. Her affection is through advice and actions. She doenst often speak her emotions but when she does it's very genuine and you are assured she loves you.

~ Strickler spends a lot of time with you in his office. He rearranged your schedule so you have a free peroid and he uses this time to tell you about your heritage. He takes artifacts off his shelves and tells you ancient stories about changelings and trolls. You learn changeling and trollish from him and he enjoys telling you about your history.

~ He's traveled the world and seen a little of everything. There's always a little more to learn but he chooses to teach what he knows instead. Strickler informs you about everything involving history and cultures and tribes. He tells you stories of his adventures and he hopes someday he'll be able to take you on one. Missions aren't always fun but he must admit traveling was always a plus.

~ Otto isn't allowed to talk about Gunmar but there are other things to discuss. You mostly bond over being polymorphs and get closer as you work together. He helps with paperwork and shows you the less dangerous side of the Order. He hopes one day you can join him and be a spy but for now your doing fine at work and he couldn't be more proud.

~ Ottos constantly buying you sweets and cakes. Feeding you and making sure you know your cared for. In Germany everyone offers food to their loved ones and your not aloud to say no, so for Otto you not eating the food he brings is the greatest offense. You learn very quickly not to fight him and just let him love you.

~ You spend long hours at the museum with Nomura or by yourself. Your either learning about your Changeling side or Changeling culture or wandering around looking at the exhibits. Nomura explains many artifacts show that changelings have existed forever simply hiding in plain sight. She enjoys giving you the tour and telling you all about the secret side of history. Often her and Strickler will bicker about it but she swears she knows better than him.

~ She's very strict about her job but every now and then she'll let you touch something that your not supposed too. She's also let you design exhibits to showcase work and has shared her love of pottery with you. She has a little studio so if you ever feel stressed or upset it's there for you. Sometimes when your angry Nomura will sit and pound clay with you helping you get your emotions out. She warns you while sculpting you are safe but there are others who would take your moments of weakness and use them against you. She doesn't elaborate but the Order is starting to show it's true colors the longer your there.

~ They each have something they like doing with you. Nomura does pottery or art projects, occasionally taking you to new art galleries or shows. Strickler enjoys reading with you or going on short trips. He shows you secret places or overlooked stores that have hidden treasures. And Otto loves taking you to restaurants or the movies. They all spoil you with affection and enjoy doing activities with you.

~ Bular becomes a problem a couple months into your shift to changeling life. With you spending time in the museum and Killahead being formed it is not a surprise when you finally meet him. He's going to eat you but you get so scared you change into your troll form and attack him. Bular has never seen you before and is so surprised you get a couple hits in like Nomura taught you.

~ Strickler and Nomura thankfully come to your defense before too much damage can be done. However, with Bular now knowing of your existence things get more compliacted. More of the Order is revealed to you and continuing to hide what they've lied about is hard.

~ The group does whatever it takes to keep you away from Bular but it seems the troll has gained a crush. Otto sees this as amazing. Imagine their baby courting and marrying the Prince of Darkness. A changeling as consort of the GumGums. You'd be a ruler. Strickler considers it but Nomura does not like the idea.

~ As Bular begins to try and court you, you begin to discover more about the Order. The Changelings begin giving you space and more freedoms allowing you too see what the Order truly is. It's up to you to decide on what to do next. But the changelings do assure you they love you and whatever you decide they'll support.

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Familiar Cerulean Eyes pt 9

Click Here for other parts! Part 10 is up! 

Warnings: Character death. Kind of torture. This is a very dark chapter and I’m really sorry about it. 

Word Count: 2.4 K

TAGLIST: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes @x-a-delama-x @inanabsentia @reallyshey @godsblesstheboi @operatorsdime @drownedbytears @emilymikado @fluidfandoms @gotagan @mikasackrmann @flowersgirl02 @bohica160 @andrastesbeard​ @riapxq @percabethismyotp14​ @celestiallustre​ @moon-spirit-yue​ @hecatve​

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Shockingly, the door hadn’t been dusted like you thought, apparently the red eyed alpha could, in fact, open a door regularly. As soon as Dabi noticed Shigaraki, he immediately started to scent you again, a reflex from his alpha. You could clearly see the wrinkle of disgust at the other alpha’s scent across Shigaraki’s face from where you were on the floor, but he didn’t seem like he cared that much about you. The other league members did however.

“Y/N! Are you okay? That looked like a nasty spill. That was funny, did you see her face when she fell?.” The mask covered Beta was holding in face in exaggerated shock while the shorter perky blonde squatting down and pushing back your hair from your face, poking at the caked blood as she frowned.

“Who made you bleed Y/n? I wanted to do that.”

“Don’t touch her,” Dabi glared at the small blonde.

“Get off the floor you idiots. What did you do to Compress?”

Dabi helped you get up, lightly shoving you to stand behind him in a protective stance, one which you noticed Shigaraki rolled his eyes at and the smaller blonde pouted at.

“Let me guess, he tried to touch your precious omega? Do I need to worry about your loyalty Dabi?”

“He tried to force bond her.” This ripped a gasp out of the two beta’s perfectly in sync with each other.

The red eyes shifted onto your own, taking in the bruised state you were in, the way you were clutching your stomach in slight pain. The dried blood that was still caked onto your head. You watched him back, ready to tuck and run at the first sign of attack, but he only reached a hand up to scratch at his neck, where his bond mark should be.

“How aggravating. We can’t have our members fighting, and but I can’t ignore Compress’s actions. Hmm.” You watched him argue with himself internally before his eyes snapped up to your own again.

“How should we punish him?”

“What?” You spluttered. Why was he asking you that? What did he mean punishment? Compress was already burnt to a crisp as he had put it. Were they going to kill him?

“You were the one he hurt. How should we punish him?”

“What do you mean punish? Dabi already beat him up.” You pulled into yourself, not liking where this conversation was going. What did he want you to say?

“You’re one of us now. Someone slighted you, hurt you. They need to be punished. How do you want to handle it?” There was almost a smile gracing his chapped lips as he watched your reaction. What was he saying… one of us.

“I-I don’t… want to hurt him.”

“That’s not an option.”

“Shi-“ Dabi tried to step in but Shigaraki cut him off immediately, a glare being sent his way. The two beta’s remaining silent behind him, mixed emotions across both of their faces.

“Not an option.”

Dabi barley glanced back at you, a sheepish look on his face before nodding at Shigaraki. Twice looked like he really wanted to say something but held his tongue.

“W-wait what do you mean not an option? I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want anything to do with him. Dabi already dealt with him. It’s fine. I’m okay. Please.” The scent in the room was growing more and more anxious as Shigaraki stared at you, his face unreadable. There was no way he actually expected you to give a death sentence to one of his members.

“What is his punishment Y/N?”

“I don’t know!” You chirped, watching as Toga and Twice exchanged a look, Dabi running his hands across his face pulling at the staples slightly. Why was he letting them hound you like this? He wouldn’t even meet your eyes, you barely could hear him as him mumbled, directed at Shigaraki.

“She’s not ready for this. She’s not like us.”

“She will be. Bring her.” Shigaraki took off down the hall, the two beta’s barely looking at you, before following after. Dabi finally glanced at you, a look of guilt on his face as he reached for your hand, which you shoved away.

“What is going on To-“

“Don’t call me that. Not here, come on.” He shoved his hands in his pockets nodding towards the way the other had gone, his face pulling into the disinterested mask he had so perfected.

“And If I say no? I don’t wan-”

“You don’t have a choice.” You flinched as he looked away from you, stoic as ever. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he didn’t give a shit about you or what you wanted, like the two of you hadn’t just..

“You sound like your father.”

There was no warning as he let out a snarl. Before you could even realize what you just said you were shoved up against a wall, your shirt gripped tightly in his fist as he towered over you, his skin hot to the touch, fire in his eyes. You held your breath. He wouldn’t actually hurt you would he?

Enji hurt Rei.

You let out a soft chirp, Dabi’s face immediately showing regret as he saw the fear creeping into your eyes and your scent.

“Princess… I…” He let you go backing away running his hands through his hair as he tried to get his thoughts and emotions under control. You could see the anger still in him, could see him fighting with himself.

“Y/N, I’m a villain, a bad guy.  This isn’t a game. This is literally the League of Villains you are dealing with. If you’re going to be with me I can’t protect you from this shit. This is my life. This is my…these are my friends. This isn’t going to be sunshine and roses.” You stayed silent as he ranted, watching as he paced back and forth.

“I’ve killed people Y/N, and I’m going to kill more before everything is done. This is real.” It was one thing to know in the back of your mind that Dabi was a murderer, that he hurt people on purpose, that at some point he probably took pleasure in it. It was another thing to hear him say it. Your omega was silent for once.

Words wouldn’t come to you. He had stopped pacing and was staring at you from across the narrow hallway. Watching as your brain attempted to make sense of how you felt. You stayed silent.

He let out an audible sigh after a minute or so. Glancing down the hallway where the others had disappeared to, before steadying himself, his emotions being concealed behind his mask once again.

“You said you didn’t care if you were free as long as you were with me. This life … it let’s you have a lot of freedom that you didn’t before, but for you it’ll just be another cage. If that’s… if I’m not what you want then I’ll get you out of it. But if you are going to stick around… “ He paused looking back over at you, his eyes burning into your own. He didn’t need to finish his sentence, the implication hanging in the air between the  two of you.

If you stayed, you would be surrounded by criminals, murderers, psychopaths, and they would be your only allies. If you stayed, they would expect you to help out, to be fully emersed in their group, to become a villain, even if you didn’t fight. If you stayed, you would be expected to hurt people in some way or form. There was no way you couldn’t be apart of this and still be with him. You would have to choose a side.  

Him or your sanity.

For you, there was no choice.

You pushed your body off of the wall, keeping your eyes on his for a brief moment, forcing yourself to steel your nerves mimicking his mask of no emotions to the best of your ability, before turning and walking down the hallway that the others took.

You didn’t see the slow smile that crossed Dabi’s lips.

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You’re steeled expression faltered when you stepped into the room, Dabi holding the door open for you, ushering you in, the rest of the team already there waiting expectantly. Compress was bandaged up in the bed in the middle of the room that was covered in dried blood, not all of it his. You could barely smell his alpha’s scent, it being heavily diluted by the rest of the smells in the room, but even the small whiff you had gotten made you want to throw up.

The second his molten eyes met yours you felt yourself taking several steps back into Dabi’s large frame, his hands landing on your hips to steady you as he blocked the door. The whole room was spinning, and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. You’re eyes trailed across his body, seeing just how much damage Dabi had done to him. His skin was blistered, and raw, dried blood and fresh blood splattered across it. It looked like his face had taken a good brunt of the fire, but you were unable to tell, his lower body being completely wrapped.  

You expected this, you told yourself, you knew that Dabi had gotten ahold of Mr. Compress. You knew it couldn’t have ended well for the other alpha. You knew what fire could do to a person and you after seeing this you were shocked that Compress was alive. What you didn’t expect was the anger that flared up inside of you. A little voice telling you it wasn’t enough, not for what he did.

You were prepared for Dabi to have thoughts like this. You weren’t prepared for yourself.

The room was silent for a moment except for Compress’s labored breathing and every breath he took only made your anger burn brighter. You hated that you felt this way, but you hated his eyes on you more.

“I think she’s ready now,” Your eyes stayed on Compress, but you could hear the furtive smile in Shigaraki’s voice. “What should his punishment be?”

There was that question again, but this time vile thoughts flashed inside your head. The thoughts were clear as day in your mind, whispering to you. You took a step towards him, then another until you were standing over him. Your eyes scanning his own only seeing anger before dropping to the damage that was done.

You had seen plenty of burn victims in your life to know Compress couldn’t handle more.

“He’s going to die if you do anything else to him... he might die anyways.” The sound of your own voice was foreign to you. You expected it to come out shaky, scared, but it came out almost as unfeeling as Dabi’s did.

“That’s true.” Kurogiri spoke, watching you from the corner of the room, all eyes were on you, other than Twice’s who were switching back and forth between you and Compress, almost giving himself whiplash. In any other situation it would have been comical.

“Is he on medication? For the pain?” Your voice almost sounded concerned this time, almost. Your eyes following a tube that disappeared under the blanket, attached to a bag up on the table next to him.

“Mhm” Shigaraki answered this time, his voice a mere hum as he scratched away at his neck, his eyes watching your shaking hands with eagerness. Everyone couldn’t wait to see what you would do. No one cared at this point what happened to Compress. Not after what he did. Just because they were villains didn’t mean they didn’t have a code of ethics. A forced bond was unforgivable. The only reason to keep him around was his quirk. Shigaraki knew he was a good ally, but only if he could be trusted, and after this he knew he couldn’t be. Tomura was okay with using him to test Dabi’s little pet.

You could see the seething anger settling in Compresses eyes. You could tell he hated you, which was only proved when he twitched his good hand to be touching your arm, causing Dabi to lurch forward to protect you, only for Compress to let out a noise of frustration, barely to be heard. Compress’s quirk wouldn’t work on you. You already knew it and now everyone in the room knew it too, watching with awe.

It would work on your precious Alpha though.

You could see the thought click in Compresses brain, clear as day. You were pretty sure if the agile Alpha had been at full health he would have been faster than you by a landslide. But he was burnt almost beyond recognition and you were pretty sure the only reason he was able to move at all was due to the amount of what you assumed was morphine he was on. You easily slid over, blocking Dabi from his feeble grasp, gripping Compress’s offending arm, yanking the IV out of it’s place and shoving his arm roughly back against his own chest, watching as he let out a low howl of pain.

You wrapped up the tub and bag, tossing it back to Kurogiri before turning and stalking out of the room with Dabi at your heels, a whisper barely leaving your lips but still being heard clearly by everyone. “Let him suffer.”

Once you were outside of the room, you finally took a deep breath, Dabi pulling into him, his arms wrapping around you, burring your face in his chest. You could hear the other members talking lowly in the room, and it was only a couple minutes before you could hear the hoarse agonized screams of Compress as his body registered the pain he was in. You tried to pull away, to run back in there and reattach the IV so that you didn’t have to hear what you just put the villain through. So you didn’t hear those awful sounds, but Dabi just crushed you tighter against himself, cooing in your ear softly to distract you.

The screams felt like they lasted hours, but in reality was only a couple minutes before they quieted all at once. Tomura Shigaraki stepped out of the room with the others following behind, a quiet nod to you in recognition, the scent of amber and leather disappearing completely, his glove missing from his hand.

You pushed Dabi away just in time to avoid getting vomit on him. What did you just do?

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