#I had to go get blood tests done and this specific lab person had been really heavyhanded with me before so I asked her to be gentle
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I am so fucking enraged right now.
Everything I have ever learned about MCAS has been from other people with MCAS. Triggers, treatment protocol, secondary symptoms (and even sometimes primary ones), everything.
I am going on four years since I first started seeing allergists for this specific symptom set.
Not ONE has done more than a basic scratch and blood test and then told me to come back in six months if I'm "still experiencing symptoms". I got LUCKY that my pcp at the time was willing to do a urine tryptase test and also knew that a negative result wouldn't disprove MCAS. But she still completely didn't understand exactly how ignorant and lazy allergists in the area are and seems to think it's my fault I haven't gotten a diagnosis yet (I know I delay scheduling appointments because of my trauma, but that's also a fucking disability, Laura.)
They've prescribed me albuterol inhalers for my asthma, which I just found out TODAY is a major trigger.
I've had to rely mainly on the SIGHI food lost plus gauging my own reactions for what's safe to eat, and between that and sensory issues and being too disabled to make food I have to live in a constant state of reaction anyway and just manage it to try and go at least a month or two between ER visits for IV prednisone because I react to the inactive ingredients in the pills - and I've started reacting to something in the IV form too.
I'm sick ALL THE TIME and the worst part is statistically I'm not even halfway through the average time it takes to receive a diagnosis, let alone start treatment. I live in an area with two allergist practices that take Medicaid, and neither knows the first thing about MCAS.
One told me the only treatment was albuterol inhaler, flonase, and h1 and h2 blockers - never mentioning cromolyn sodium, montelukast, xolair, quercetin, or any of the other options past the first line that was already not working for me. I rely on quercetin and DAO enzyme from amazon (the DAO enzyme they don't have a ton of scientific proof of efficacy yet, but it seems to be working and even if that's placebo effect it doesn't seem to be HURTING).
They tell me to avoid my triggers but don't even themselves know what those triggers even LIKELY are (what foods are high in histamine, that exercise and heat are triggers, etc).
I am doing all the work of researching what tests have to be ordered, what the results would be to prove MCAS, what treatments are most effective and in what order you try them, all while having to pander to and tiptoe around a fancy signature in a lab coat's ego while they prescribe me things that are actively making me sick to the point they are effectively poisoning me.
I have to bend over backwards while also dealing with my severe (and ongoing!) medical trauma just to get doctors to not do what is allegedly the OPPOSITE of their jobs. I'm trying to get the lifesavers to actively not kill me through their own negligence and ignorance.
Doctors are lifesavers like the police are here to fucking protect and serve. If I ever hear another person refer to a medical professional as an "angel" I'll assume they mean "angel of death".
This isn't just one doctor, either. Every primary care provider I've ever seen, every specialist... I had my latest pcp FLIPPANTLY tell me "oh western medicine isn't really good at dealing with chronic issues. If you have strep or a perfed bowel, we know how to fix that, but otherwise you're basically SOL."
I'm only paraphrasing the last fucking acronym. The rest of it is word for word, I just can't remember the exact phrasing for that last acronym but it was the exact same meaning in slightly more "professional" wording.
On a related note, I fought doctors to get a wheelchair for my POTS until I gave up and only happened to luck into a charity that provided me one I could at least be pushed in, though I can't self-propel it. They kept trying to send me to physical therapy - which with how sensitive I am MCAS-wise to ANY exercise, could very well have made me worse.
Actually scratch that it would have bc just getting to the car and back two blocks away (city living) without doing anything else is enough to flare me for days. Doctors are apparently allergic to taking accessibility into account when treating disabled people. /bitter
I just... truly want to burn doctors as a profession and as people to the ground. It's a profession so deeply hostile to disabled and chronically ill people as the standard while purporting and being celebrated and being paid big bucks for at best doing jack shit and at worst actively killing us. I'd say "I could avoid crawling under the bar which is fucking UNDERGROUND if I were a doctor" but the fucked up thing is the system is literally set up to not just disincentivize doing so, but to actively prevent it and weed it out.
There are no good doctors like there are no good cops, because the good ones are either forced to quit or leave.
This is why I call myself anti-phys. Because I'm so pro-ACTUAL MEDICINE like you wouldn't believe. With human bias as removed as possible from the actual science, with disabled and chronically ill people being the first and foremost priority of every aspect of every medical and medical-adjacent profession - yeah, I ADORE good, accurate medical science. I want to fucking do medical research as a fucking career! I'm not against (consensual) treatment methods involving anything from medication to physical therapy to any other methodologies we know!
It's doctors serving only to gatekeep care and medical knowledge as a profession, who have absolute life and death power over disabled people and wield diagnoses like weapons as tools to discredit us and cover up their own neglect and abuse of us. It's the way the science is so incredibly biased and that this is in part because medical professions are designed to be inaccessible and hostile to disabled people as an integral part of the whole system. It's that the medical profession serves to uphold structural ableism and is built with that rot at its very core.
I have these fucking hellish chronic illnesses that continue to be fucking degenerative as a result of information purposely being kept from being disseminated and treatment being withheld, and if doctors were what their image portrays, I would have them minimally well-managed, if not some of them in remission.
These diseases are stealing years of my life away from me that I will NEVER get back, and doctors are in all actuality basically aiding and abetting them in doing so more effectively. It's beyond the cruelest of satire. It's beyond inhumane. It's eugenicist and more than borderline genocidal.
How much do I have to say: I'm terrified. I can't do this. I can't keep returning to people essentially mass-produced on a fucked up assembly line to oppress and harm people like me to beg them to this time not try to kill me and to instead do what is supposed to be their jobs. I don't have any fight left in me to do so.
I can't keep returning to the people responsible for upholding a system which strips me of my single most fundamental rights - to life and health - along with every right needed to guarantee those; and prostrating myself before them to the point my nose and forehead leaves a gouge in the floor, just to desperately plead for my life and find it weighed unworthy against their egos.
I can't advocate for myself against my very literal abusers anymore. I've been beaten down one too many times. At least this way, it's only lack of treatment that's making me sicker, and not active abuse and trauma which is retriggered and all those lovely things (/sarcasm on the word lovely). At least this way, I'm not getting my hopes up like a damn fool that maybe this time they won't hurt me, maybe this time they'll treat me the way they promised, maybe this time the same exact mass-produced abuser wearing a hundred thousand faces will treat me right.
(And don't even get me started on how the very literal definitional gaslighting of traumatized people and especially people traumatized by oppression and marginalization, the assigning of the labels of "crazy" and "irrational" and not reliable narrators on the harm and abuse they've experienced factors into all of this.
If you decide that trauma means people aren't actually capable of reliably determining an actual threat and that they're all jumping at shadows you can ironically use the label of traumatized to argue that victims are never experiencing any actual further trauma, and even honestly in a bizarre contradictory twist of logic that they never experienced any in the first place and it's ALL just a nebulous abstract sickness of the mind.)
I mean this purely in a metaphorical sense, but it feels easier to just lay down and let these illnesses take the rest of my life from me slowly. It doesn't hurt as much to bleed to death from a million tiny papercuts as it does to be repeatedly STABBED and then the worst of the wounds cauterized so I only bleed as much as a papercut from most of them, all while the papercuts continue and some of the stabs are left a leaking faucet to both drag me to death quicker and to steal my time by driving me out of my mind with sickness and agony.
I feel hopeless. I'm in a constant state of re-grieving, and being helplessly angry and impotent in part by virtue of both the physical illness and the trauma, and being triggered and retriggered and retriggered, and feeling hopelessness and despair, and holding on to a thinning thread of hope that is little more than fading light slipping through my fingers, and you know?
Of it all, the hope hurts worst. It keeps driving me to dash myself against the same fucking rocks as if anything will change. Chronically ill people are so often labeled insane, but isn't the definition of insanity doing the same visits to a god complex with a stethoscope over and over again and expecting different results?
Then I remember the entire communities of medical professionals fakeclaiming people with specifically my illnesses and calling us attention-seekers and drug-seekers and making fun of us for "thinking" we might have anything other than a "psychiatric" ailment (read: "crazy") while our bodies crumble around us. I remember that this is normal and even encouraged. And I think that it really is easier just to take comfort in despair, and stop torturing myself with this imaginary ideal of my illnesses actually being treated by doctors.
I think it's probably not possible to ever be healthy, because it's doctors job to stand at the gates of health and not let anyone in from our side.
Can't have us challenging what it means to be healthy, after all.
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Oh my God, someone who writes about my current fixation, I love it (and you, you're awesome)
May I please, please, request a Doc Ock (either TSSM or 2004 movie) X fem!reader that's his lab partner, and while they work the have this Playlist going, and there's one specific song they have to take a break from working and dance with each other? (You know, get the blood flowing again, talk to another person, human contact, pine over the other, the like) (I'm thinking they either tango or waltz together, not alone)
They both obviously like each other, but too either shy or stubborn to say anything. So the dancing gives them both an outlet, a way to fantasize the life they would have together.
(Probably better suited for a Doctor Octavius than a Doc Ock)
(If you can't work with this, feel free to delete, no pressure, I get it)
(Again, you're awesome, ily)
(Also, where did you get your DILF hunting license? I've been doing it under the table for years, would love to go legit)
stoppppp you're too kind~~~~ i love you too anon <33 i gave you some mutual pining with TSSM otto for this bad boy. and i know you didn't ask for it, buttttttt...... i made the playlist for you on spotify!! it helped me write ngl. and about my dilf hunting license, you have to be at least 16 to take the test and get a permit and you have to get a psych eval done issued by the state to ensure that it isn’t just daddy/mommy issues, but if you pass then you’re good to go ;)
Soft Rock Mix ||tssm otto octavius x fem.reader
word count: 1232
summary: Work breaks are healthy. It's important to get up and stretch every so often! Dancing with someone could be a good way to get your blood flowing again... especially if you've been crushing on them for years.
trigger warnings: none :)
“Don’t worry about Osborn.” She frowned. “He’s just… rude.” A reassuring hand rest itself on his shoulder. Otto looked up at her and sighed, closing his eyes momentarily. “I-It’s nothing. I’ve dealt with it for nearly 20 years. A-After all, I’m getting paid, aren’t I?” He slowly let a smile hint at his lips, causing her to guiltily smile in response and look back ahead of her. “You do a pretty darn good job here, Doctor. I just wish you were treated with the respect you deserve.” Taking open strides to the radio sitting on an open desk not far away, she plucked a CD from the sleeve book. It had “soft rock mix!” written neatly in sharpie on one side. Otto turned back to the work table, a now-lifeless actuator layed in a straight line in front of him. He heard the first chords of Bennie and the Jets begin to hum inside the lab and he couldn’t help but smile to himself, his cheeks warming.
The Soft Rock Mix was Otto’s favorite. It was one that he always found himself nodding his head to no matter how he was feeling. His assistant knew him well, though, that was to be expected after nearly five years of working at his hand. Otto pulled a welding mask over his face and burned the connectors together inside of the arms. Yn shuffled back to the table of her own and continued working. Osborn typically left a negative wake after any visits to the laboratory, but ever since Yn began to work with Otto… each time became a bit more bearable. A soft hum playing at her lips (she’d heard this mixtape many times now), she let her head nod in rhythm with Elton John’s keyboard. Her fingers danced across her own, less musical keyboard, typing out the progress report that Osborn had so desperately desired.
“. . . The work shown by Doctor Octavius and Doctor Ln -”
no, no… that’s not right. Click click click click click…
“. . . by Doctor Octavius will be listed here in full detail, as follows.”
Her back ached, as did most Oscorp scientists’, but with a deadline to be met for a full report that very night, there wasn’t much else she could do other than slump over and get it done. It always eased her, however, to look up and see her superior gently swaying to the mixtape he somehow never seemed to grow old of. If it hadn’t meant so much to him, she probably wouldn’t ever bother with it. He tapped his foot following the beat as another song she’d memorized faded out, and the gentle synth signaling the beginning of Billy Idol’s Eyes Without a Face poured in. Catching her attention, Otto swiftly walked to the radio and turned the volume up a bit. When he turned back around, he was grinning from ear to ear until he caught her humored gaze. He quickly flushed red and shrunk down a bit. “No, no! Don’t back down now.” She giggled, standing up from her computer chair and popping her back. “Here, may I?” She approached him gingerly and took his hands. “Wh-What??” His cheeks burned a bright crimson and she led him to an open spot in the laboratory.
She intertwined her fingers with his own and began breathing her breaths a bit quicker. Otto was at a complete loss, only able to follow her lead as the two of them ambled along into a sort of waltzing position. “Know how to dance?” She asked him, beginning to sway before giving him the chance to answer her. Luckily for her, he did! A gushing stuttering mess, he gently moved his feet in time with hers as the spun around the floor, labcoats flowing like expensive tailcoats and ballgowns. Otto couldn’t help but look at her hands which graced his own with their touch. Her skin was cold and soft, fingers slipping between his with delightful comfort and simplicity; though the feelings shared were anything but simple.
“You’re pretty smooth, Doctor!” She giggled, him revelling in her praises. “O-Oh, stop that.” He murmured, shying his gaze to the floor with a bashful grin. She pulled him a bit closer and softly nudged his chin up to look at her, and when he looked up once again he could have sworn he had seen the most genuine, loving glint in her eye. Maybe it was just the lights from the tanks full of acid or the flashing of buttons from panels on the wall, but the colors melted together into a visual cacophony that filled his heart so full he couldn’t help but let it spill back out; in the form of a soft gasp. “Everything okay?” She asked him, startled. “Y-Yes…! I-I’m… Everything’s perfect.” He stumbled in his words trying to piece together fragments of what he truly wanted to say. Her lips curled into a soft unconvinced smile, but she shook her head and dropped it. “A-Are you a fan of Billy Idol, too?” Otto asked her, desperately scrambling to fill the silence his catastrophic slip-up had left behind.
“I only know him thanks to you.” She replied, moving her hand down to his shoulder. She wondered, fruitlessly, if he liked to dance at home as well. Would they dance together like this if they lived together? Able to take him by the hands and waltz around the kitchen whenever they wanted, wearing whatever they wanted. They wouldn’t be confined by labcoats and nametags and button-ups and slacks. There would be no need for closed-toe shoes or long socks. Only pajama pants and t-shirts and maybe some house shoes if the tile felt particularly chilly that evening. The idea of living with Doctor Octavius made her face grow red and her smile reach her teeth in a shy recoil. “W-What are you smiling about?” He allowed himself to laugh with her as they swayed, meeting her gaze in the dim light of the buzzing LEDs. “You’re just a lot of fun to be around. Did you know that?” She quickly responded, completely avoiding the topic of her thoughts. The two had much in common. Otto’s eyes felt half-lidded after the compliment. “F-Fun? I-I wouldn’t say that. I’ve n-never been very fun. Y-Y-You, h-however…” Unable to complete his sentence, he trailed off in hopes she could connect the dots herself.
“Fun is ambiguous. I think you’re fun just the way you are.” She said, smirking down at him. “W-Why are you so insistent on flustering me…?” He said breathily, hardly able to stand on his own two feet. She spun around under his arm and grinned. “Because it’s fun.” She let her hands slip from his and she returned to her desk as the song faded away in a dwindling murmur of synth chords. Otto watched her as she took the same, long strides back to her chair and he couldn’t help but look upon her with the most fervent of admiration. Being honest with himself, it was more than that. There wasn’t one word he could think of to really explain how he felt about her, and so he stuck to what he typically did. He shuffled bashfully back to his workbench and picked up his torch again. Late nights were late nights, of course; but with Yn around? Like Osborn, they became a bit more bearable each time.
||
chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ybkayley/691215016131706880?source=share
#doctor octopus x reader#x reader#doc ock x reader#doc ock#doctor octopus#otto octavius#marvel x reader#otto octavius x reader#tssm x reader#the spectacular spider man#tssm doc ock#tssm doctor octopus
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1461
survey by brelee
What is a long song that you enjoy? (over 5 minutes long)
Future by Paramore.
If you have a sibling, what is a memory you have with them that you'll never forget?
When I picked her up from her dorm for the first time. Manila is mostly an unfamiliar place to me so while I successfully picked her up, I ended up taking a wrong exit at the expressway and instead of getting back home...we landed at the fucking airport. In an entirely different city. That sent me into a panic and while I would have definitely cried had I been alone, my sister was with me and she tends to get stressed if other people get stressed around her so I had to hold my nerves in, hahaha.
Do you cry over small things?
I definitely can if I’m already having a bad enough day. Fortunately it doesn’t always happen.
Are you organized?
For the most part.
Who is someone you adore?
One of my aunts.
Rock, paper, or scissors?
My first choice would usually be either rock or paper; I never go for scissors.
What do you do whenever you're nervous?
Vape, a lot. I also tend to bite my fingernails.
Black or Green?
Black, but I will say that green really has been growing on me lately.
Is your favorite color currently in the outfit you're wearing?
No, I’m not in anything pink at the moment.
Do you vape?
Yep.
Do you sleep with any stuffed animals?
I have a number of plushies yeah, but I don’t think I can call Tata an animal, lol.
Do you have a motto?
“Everything goes” is one of my favorites.
What is a scary experience you have had?
Every episode of alcoholism in my family when I was younger. I won’t get into any specific instance anymore because they’re buried at the back of my mind for a reason.
What shoes do you wear the most?
Probably my Ivy Park sneakers. They’re the first (and so far only) pair of shoes I’ve bought for myself, so I won’t deny there’s some favoritism going on in there heheheh.
Have you ever met a famous person?
I’ve met and talked to a handful of local celebrities and influencers virtually thanks to my job. I have yet to meet a famous personality in real life, though.
If you could travel anywhere right now, where would you go?
South Korea.
What were you like as a teenager?
I was very shy up until I was around 15 or 16 and can guarantee you that I pretty much had a nonexistent presence in any classroom – teachers rarely remembered me. I started to gain friends and be more outgoing by the latter half of high school, but even by then I still preferred to be far from the spotlight.
When did you last get lab work done?
May 2020 when I had to take blood and urine tests for my UTI/fever.
Whose baby did you last hold?
I don’t even know...it had to have been an aunt’s many, many moons ago. I love babies but the idea of holding them terrifies me.
What genre does your favorite TV show fall into?
Crime, drama, Western-ish.
Have you ever been on a cruise?
I have.
Do you know what average rent is in your area?
Anywhere between 20k to 45k, I believe.
When did you last turn on a fan?
A few hours ago after we had lunch and I started to settle in the living room.
What is something you are proud of?
How much I’ve grown at my job.
What did you last purchase at the grocery store?
Alcohol, nacho chips, and a couple of dips for said chips.
How long are your showers?
Less than 10 minutes for the most part. I don’t like taking up too much time in the bathroom.
What is an unhealthy habit you have?
I spend a really long time spacing out, whenever it does happen.
Do you tend to lose your TV remote often?
No, not really.
What would be most beneficial to your life right now?
Like most people, a shit ton of money would do.
Are you a good story teller?
I think I can say so. I’ve been told I have a way with words so I’d like to think that crosses over to the ways in which I share stories.
Would you ever have a wild animal as a pet if possible?
No. I’m fine and will always be fine with just dogs.
Are there any words that annoy you when people use them out of context?
I dunno I don’t think there are any.
What popular foods do you dislike?
Fruits. I could also live without lasagna.
Do you ask or answer questions more?
Answer them.
Do you prefer indoor or outdoor concerts?
Outdoor for me definitely has the better vibe, but it has to be an arena/stadium setup as well where people can watch from higher levels. The only outdoor gigs I’ve been to were those wherein we were all on the ground, which meant that if you had any ticket other than VIP then you had a shit view and would have to rely on LED screens by your section.
Have you ever tried deep fried oreos?
Yeah I love wicked Oreos.
What's your typical Chinese food order?
I rarely get Chinese and I don’t have a typical single order because we would usually do family-style. My family likes getting stuff like xiao long bao, siomai, yang chow fried rice, minced pork with eggplant, sweet and sour pork, chicken feet, and century eggs, though.
What made you smile today?
I went to church earlier for Sunday mass and I was so surprised to hear the priest name-drop BTS??????? He even mentioned four of them by name and I couldn’t help but crack up from my seat and be impressed at how he knew more than half of them. Luckily I had my face mask on so I didn’t make too much of a scene.
What would you like to buy most right now?
New clothes would be cool.
Do you own any exercise equipment?
I don’t. But my parents do have a couple that we’re free to use - I just never do.
What would you do if you found a large sum of money?
Immediately think I’m part of a social experiment and leave it alone – unless I can see a wallet somewhere or ID, in which case I’d try to track the owner down.
Are you in any amount of physical or mental pain?
The upper left side of my back hurts.
What time is it currently?
4:31 PM.
Is there a garage or car port at your place of residence?
We have a carport.
What are your plans for the rest of the day?
Take maybe one or two more surveys, play my rhyhtm game, and squeeze in some work tonight so that my backlog won’t be nauseating tomorrow.
What did you last have a conversation about?
Cooper and whatever he was trying to do with the curtains earlier.
What color is your toothbrush?
Yellow with some pink accents.
Have you ever stayed at a hotel alone?
No, I’ve never booked one just for myself.
Who were you last in a vehicle with?
My mom, sister, and brother. Dad already left for Denmark last Friday.
What can you currently hear?
Jin and Jungkook singing some of the final notes from So Far Away.
Do you find having to find meals daily to be a nuisance?
Well no? It’s just a thing you really have to do to not go hungry lol.
Would you rather go a week without showering or brushing your teeth?
Brushing my teeth. Both are gross, but I typically feel much more restless when I’m sweaty and sticky from not taking showers.
What does your last text message say?
It was a weird scam text as usual. I don’t even feel like checking it at the moment.
Do you listen to screamo?
No.
You can have any 3 things in the world, what would you choose?
At least a million pesos, a lifetime supply of sushi, and a penthouse condo.
Last thing you won?
A quiz I was playing with teammates at work.
Have you ever considered becoming a vlogger?
Yeah. I still do consider it every now and then...not out of the desire to become popular, but the idea of documenting my life has always appealed to me. But I don’t have a good camera other than my phone and I don’t really know how to edit videos, so I’ve just never pushed through with it.
Do you take any daily medicines or vitamins?
Nah. I know I should, though.
Do you carry pepper spray?
No. But I also don’t walk outdoors/on public sidewalks for the most part because I don’t wanna be mugged or catcalled. I recently asked my dad to get a baseball bat for my car though just in case anyone tries to start something funny with me while I’m on the road.
Are you easily distracted?
Yeah, very easily.
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Pondering Things 5: Poke Along Sylum!
Good afternoon, everyone! I hope you all are having a lovely day thus far, and if you're just now going to bed, I hope you have a lovely night!
These past three days have been quite stressful. Two of those days were spent outside of the house. I had to go to my PCP-- that means primary care physician-- on the first day. And on the second day, I had to go and see my therapist. Let me tell you, the first day was not easy. That was supposed to be the day that I came out to my doctor as tranmasc. And I was supposed to tell him that I wanted to seek some form of vocal therapy to deepen my voice. I had the moment to tell him, and I almost did. Problem was, that my dad came back from the lab a bit too soon. So, I unfortunately chickened out. I'm still mad at myself about that. I know my father we'll find out sooner or later, but I don't want him to yet. Hell, I don't think I ever will tell him. He's voiced his distaste for people like me. So, for the sake of my own physical safety, I have to keep my mouth shut.
I also had to get my blood drawn on the first day, so that some tests could be done. Let's just say I don't do well with needles. That was the start of my anxiety for the day. Then, I learned that I have to start using a glucometer. That's a little device that monitors a person's blood sugar. You poke yourself in the finger with a needle, and feed it to the machine. It then tells you how high or low your blood sugar is. So, yes, I'm pretty much diabetic now. Specifically, the doctor said I was pre-diabetic some time ago. As previously stated, I don't do well with needles. So, coupled with my intense anxiety from that day, I've been feeling rather awful. I've been both mentally, and emotionally exhausted. But, fret not! I'm slowly but surely recovering.
I used my glucometer for the first time this morning. It was easy enough, I suppose. It definitely wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. Of course, that's what happens when your mind gives you the worst case scenario; you're so scared of the possible outcome, that the real thing tends to be quite tame. A tiny, little prick is nothing compared to the insurmountable pain that my brain conjured up.
I'm going to speak on one more thing. And, some of you may not like me for this. I've discovered quite recently that I am what is known as an endogenic system. That means I have alters/headmates without having trauma. Apparently, some people really hate that. Including the person that could be my canonmate. I asked them about it without mentioning that I am one. And they said, and I'm paraphrasing here, "I don't support them. You can't be a system without trauma." When I read those words, I felt as though I had been slapped in the face. So, I left the server that they ran, and I've not spoken to them since. As much as it wounds me, I don't think it would benefit me to stay friends with someone like that. This means that I've lost my second canonmate. Will this torment never end?
I suppose I shouldn't stop here for now. Thank you also very much for reading, and I'll see you in the next entry!
#pondering things#fictionkin#otherkin#bumakin#musings#endogenic system#I'll introduce the system mates some point. just not today.
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Day 10
Difficulty Breathing - Nemu/Mayuri
experimentation cw, experimentation tw, medical situation cw, medical situation tw, dehumanization cw, dehumanization tw
Even with Mayuri-sama’s specifications there were times that my body wasn’t quite as perfect as he wanted it to be. He’d done many surgeries and many experiments in order to perfect each cell of mine. Part of my existence was always to protect Mayuri-sama. The other part was to continue to grow and evolve. Any obstacle that I was faced with there was another way to be better, to become more perfect for my captain and creator.
Sometimes enemies would do things that weren’t expected. Sometimes I was injured far worse than I had been previously. Even with Mayuri-sama testing my limits, making my body so resilient that normally fatal wounds wouldn’t kill me. Unfortunately not every scenario could be accounted for. There had been a Vasto Lorde that Mayuri-sama had been running experiments on. He hadn’t quite gotten to the crux of what the hollow’s ability was, not until it got ahold of me.
I wasn’t afraid. I knew that whatever would happen, I’d be stitched back together and healed. The hollow dug its tendrils into me, slithering into my arms and moving their way under my skin. The tendrils were painful, but I breathed through it, calling out for Mayuri-sama. Soon, I could feel something taking hold, a secretion I gathered, as each second passed. My mind became muddled and it started to feel as though even my automatic survival faculties weren’t even in my control. I knew then that the hollow’s ability was some sort of complete control over their victims.
“Let me go!” The hollow screamed, thrashing against the binds that the captain and I put it in, “if not, I’ll kill her.”
The captain huffed but didn’t stop. Instead he took a hypodermic needle and inserted it into my immobilized arm. He hooked it up to a tube to draw blood.
“I’m not finished yet, I’m just seeing what you can do. You hid your abilities for so long,” Mayuri-sama replied, a grin spreading from cheek to cheek, “now, what kind of control do you have?”
He hummed and reached out, slicing off one of the tendrils that was reaching out to me and taking it as a sample. Tightness gripped my chest, my lungs, as the hollow screamed. I felt the air be forced out of me. I was gasping, trying to get any oxygen in my lungs but to no avail. I couldn’t breathe. I could hold my breath for longer than an average person, but even this was harder than I’d been through before. I wanted to claw at what was holding me in place, yet was unable to move.
“Stupid girl!” Mayuri shouted as I continued to gasp for air. I wasn’t able to even ask for help at this point, “you can hold your breath for longer than this.”
Mayuri-sama hissed at me, and I blinked in acknowledgement. He was right, yet my body was automatically begging for air. I hadn’t been prepared for this, hadn’t even had a moment to take a breath before my breathing was taken away from me. I felt my lips becoming numb, knowing that they were turning blue. Moment ticked by and I could feel my mind becoming more and more fuzzy, far away from me. I knew that I’d lose consciousness soon.
What happened next I couldn’t be sure. I just remember waking up to a breathing tube down my throat and hooked up to the machines in my captain’s personal lab. This wasn’t the first time I’d been here like this and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
#original drabble#bleach drabble#bleach#febuwhump#febuwhump2023#dehumanization cw#dehumanization tw#experimentation cw#experimentation tw#medical situation cw#medical situation tw
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I’ve been a covid unit nurse working 60 hours a week with about 27 covid patients and about 4 CNAs. It’s been fun, however along with the challenges comes fatigue for such long hours. There’s a voice inside my head that tells me often to enjoy this part of my life; “you’re single, you’re working on your career, you have the opportunity to be distraction free, putting in good work hours and gaining valuable experience.” Then my brain reflects on how, what if, these were the easier years? That family illnesses, having toddlers running around, having a husband, a mortgage to pay would be in my future and that I don’t understand that this season in my life is easier than what’s coming for me? It’s really eye-opening to think that way.
Being a new nurse has it’s challenges and I’m still learning. My routine in the covid unit is when I get there, to check if the oxygen tanks are full, if I have a non-rebreather mask in my cart, if there are nasal cannulas, a oxygen concentrator. Then I look at the vital signs and assess specifically for any signs of oxygen deprivation such as a saturation of lower than 90%. Having a low oxygen level tells me that the patient may have secondary disease processes from covid-19 and along side with congestion and purulent sputum I assume possible pneumonia especially if I auscultate their lungs and hear crackles, rhonchi or other adventitious breath sounds. I have a few go-to providers at the facility that respond rather quickly and order a z-pack, a chest x-ray, vitamin c, zinc, vitamin D, and other orders. What I look for mainly in covid-19 patients is de-saturation.
I read the other day that pneumonia cases from covid-19 don’t necessarily have to be associated with a fever. There are times when my assessments are accurate and there are times where I’m inaccurate. However, what I’ve learned is that I’d rather set my pride aside and get the extra diagnostic tests done for my patients and have the results be negative for things than to be prideful and not get the extra tests done.
I’ve had chest x-rays that I asked for approval be positive for pneumonia and congestive heart failure that were undiagnosed and I’ve had chest x-rays be negative for anything. I’m still learning and so my goal is to have better assessment skills with time.
Something I also look for is high blood glucose levels and a high heart rate. That tells me the patient may have a bacterial infection of some sort which would mean that pneumonia is more of a possibility if they also have purulent sputum, adventitious breath sounds, tachycardia, a fever, cough, high WBC levels.
There’s this medication that our MDs have been prescribing it’s paxlovid for the covid-19 patients. I like it, it seems to be working since I was so happy to see my patients recovering. The only thing there is their egfr levels (kidneys) need to be functioning properly so their labs need to be above 60 if I’m not mistaken.
It’s been fun, however, like I said fatigue is something I’ve been experiencing. I was driving today in my city after about 24 hours of sleep and I just realized it’s summer time and that the trees looked so vibrant and green. I hardly see sunlight these days because my shifts are usually from 3pm til 10am when I work.
It’s rough, I often am in my personal protective equipment drenched in sweat, wearing an N95 mask on for 20 hours. The air conditioner is also turned off because ventilation in the facility is shared and droplets of covid-19 can spread more easily to other areas with the air conditioner on.
Anyways, I really want to put my family first and so I called off the 25th to have dinner with my grandma.
The covid unit has been tiring, but it’s truly an honor and I still feel like I’m lucky I’m able to do this. Sometimes I think to myself, I can’t believe I’m a nurse now and that I made it. Therefore, I thank God for this opportunity. I have bad days where I say things out of fatigue but at the end of the day I’m grateful for this opportunity.
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What Are the Steps Involved in an STD Screening Process?
Do you know that many sexually transmitted illnesses have no symptoms at all? However, sometimes you can experience minor symptoms that come and go quickly. And this is why STD Testing in Singapore is necessary.
Regardless of whether you've recently met someone new, engaged in unprotected intimacy or only have transitory symptoms, it's crucial to schedule STD testing to safeguard your health.
Unsure if you are suffering from an STD and whether some hard times are going to come? Well, the only way to know this correctly is through proper testing. Furthermore, here is everything you need to know about STD screening procedures.
How Can I Determine which STD Tests I Need?
Wondering which STD Screening in Singapore will you be needing? Basically, you can decide which tests you require with the advice of your nurse or doctor on the basis of discussions like:
● Any signs you may be exhibiting?
● If you or your partner have ever been infected with an STD?
● How many people you've had sexual relations with?
● The nature of your sexual encounters, such as oral, anal, vaginal or any other that involved skin-to-skin genital contact or the passage of sexual fluids.
● How frequently do you safeguard yourselves by using dental dams and condoms?
● Other practices you engage in that raise your risk of contracting specific diseases (like sharing needles).
This will make it easier for your nurse or doctor to decide which STD tests are most appropriate for you. Remember, be careful to communicate with them in an honest and transparent manner.
How is the STD Screening Process Done?
STD Testing in Singapore is quick, simple and typically painless. Each STD has its own test, so there isn't a single test for all STDs. For various STDs, there are different tests available. However, the type of STD a person has, any symptoms and his/her medical and sexual history will all influence the test that person receives.
A doctor or NP-nurse practitioner will inquire about topics like how many partners the person has had to get the history, followed by checking the patient's genitalia. For girls who have STD symptoms, this might involve a pelvic check.
However, girls who are only receiving an STD screening as a part of a routine checkup and do not exhibit any symptoms most likely do not require a pelvic examination. Furthermore, your doctor can advise you on some testing such as:
● Blood specimen (from either a blood draw or a finger prick)
● A sample of urine
● A swab from the genitalia, such as the urethra in men or the cervix in women
● A swab right from the inner portion of the mouth
● Any discharge or sores with a swab
While some doctors consider testing samples at their respective offices, some may allow a lab to receive the material and later deliver the findings.
Having a Hard Time Dealing?
Worried about your STD Screening in Singapore? Leaning on someone you trust may help you feel better if you're struggling to cope. You can also opt for counsellors and therapists because they are educated and can make you feel better and more comforting.
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260.
survey by brelee
What is a long song that you enjoy? (over 5 minutes long)
Bohemian Rhapsody.
If you have a sibling, what is a memory you have with them that you'll never forget?
I don’t have any siblings.
Do you cry over small things?
Yeah, probably more over small things than anything big, tbh.
Are you organized?
Yeah, ridiculously so in some ways, lol. I just like knowing where everything is and what I’m doing well in advance. But the flip-side is that I don’t cope well with last minute changes.
Who is someone you adore?
My husband.
Rock, paper, or scissors?
Scissors.
What do you do whenever you're nervous?
Play with my hair, mess around on my phone, avoid eye contact.
Black or Green?
Green, as long as it’s specific shades of it.
Is your favorite color currently in the outfit you're wearing?
Nope.
Do you vape?
No, I’ve never understood the appeal of it. It smells just as bad as cigarettes.
Do you sleep with any stuffed animals?
Yeah, my stuffed bear lol.
Do you have a motto?
"If it made you smile, it can’t have been that bad”.
What is a scary experience you have had?
Being on a flight to Australia where we got hit with really, really bad turbulence. The plane was bouncing around everywhere and there was a huge thunderstorm with lightning crashing outside. The lights were all flashing too - it was horrible. It only really lasted about 10 minutes but it felt like a lifetime - I’ve never been more relieved to get off a plane in my life, lol.
What shoes do you wear the most?
I wear black trainers for work, or black ballet shoes outside of that.
Have you ever met a famous person?
Yeah, a few people, but nobody that’s overly famous.
If you could travel anywhere right now, where would you go?
Japan or Iceland.
What were you like as a teenager?
Hugely introverted, socially anxious and depressed between the ages of about 13-16, but things improved hugely for a few years after that.
When did you last get lab work done?
I had blood tests done when I had issues with my periods about five years ago.
Whose baby did you last hold?
I have absolutely no idea - probably Hannah’s and her daughter is five now, lol.
What genre does your favorite TV show fall into?
It’s a sitcom.
Have you ever been on a cruise?
Nope.
Do you know what average rent is in your area?
Around £500 per month for a two-bed with a garden.
When did you last turn on a fan?
Last summer, unless you count the AC in the car, in which case, yesterday.
What is something you are proud of?
My business.
What did you last purchase at the grocery store?
Tortilla chips, cheese, ice-cream, sausage rolls, toilet paper, laundry detergent and some cinnamon rolls.
How long are your showers?
About five minutes. I don’t really enjoy being in the shower, it’s just something I do daily as I need to be clean and feel better afterwards.
What is an unhealthy habit you have?
I don’t have much self-control when it comes to food, and I spend way too much of my free time on the internet, lol.
Do you tend to lose your TV remote often?
No, not really.
What would be most beneficial to your life right now?
Money, of course.
Are you a good story teller?
No. I tend to ramble or miss bits out.
Would you ever have a wild animal as a pet if possible?
Nah. The idea is awesome but I don’t think it’s okay to keep animals like that in a domestic home unless you have HUGE amounts of outdoor space and the specialist knowledge required to keep them.
Are there any words that annoy you when people use them out of context?
I don’t think so.
What popular foods do you dislike?
I’m not a huge fan of pasta.
Do you ask or answer questions more?
Answer them.
Do you prefer indoor or outdoor concerts?
Outdoor ones, as long as the weather is good.
Have you ever tried deep fried oreos?
No, but I’m not even a fan of regular oreos.
What's your typical Chinese food order?
Sweet and sour pork balls, chicken chow mein, special fried rice, crispy seaweed, duck spring rolls and chips. That lasts me about three days, lol.
What made you smile today?
I slept really well last night, does that count?
What would you like to buy most right now?
I could do with some new t-shirts for work.
Do you own any exercise equipment?
We have a mini trampoline and an indoor bike, but I don’t use either.
What would you do if you found a large sum of money?
If it was just a bundle of cash, report it to the police - around here if it’s not been claimed within a month, you get to keep it anyway. If it was in a wallet, I’d return it to the owner.
Are you in any amount of physical or mental pain?
My back has been aching all week.
What time is it currently?
it’s 10.20am.
Is there a garage or car port at your place of residence?
We have a garage but it’s only used for storage. We park on the street out front or on the driveway round the back.
What are your plans for the rest of the day?
I have no real plans for today, mostly relaxing, watching TV and doing surveys. I was thinking of going to Riva but I can’t really justify it when I have both ice-cream and iced coffee in the house, lol.
What did you last have a conversation about?
I was trying to explain to the dog that Mike wouldn’t be back for hours so he may as well stop whining, lol.
What color is your toothbrush?
Green and grey.
Have you ever stayed at a hotel alone?
Yeah, a few times. It was pretty fun, actually.
Who were you last in a vehicle with?
My mum, I suspect.
What can you currently hear?
The TV, my own typing and the background noises on Klondike.
Do you find having to find meals daily to be a nuisance?
Not as such, but sometimes I really CBA to figure out a meal and cook it.
Would you rather go a week without showering or brushing your teeth?
Showering, as I’d just take baths instead, lol.
What does your last text message say?
I don’t remember. Nobody has text me today.
Do you listen to screamo?
No.
You can have any 3 things in the world, what would you choose?
50 million pounds, a beach house with a porch and swing, and a huge amount of land so I could keep loads of animals.
Last thing you won?
I have no idea.
Have you ever considered becoming a vlogger?
Nope.
Do you take any daily medicines or vitamins?
No.
Do you carry pepper spray?
No, it’s illegal to carry that here.
Are you easily distracted?
It depends what I’m supposed to be doing and what’s distracting me.
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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)
Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.
A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…
@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!
Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈
He doesn’t look like a demon.
Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.
He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.
Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.
He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.
“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”
You nod.
“And you don’t want to be.”
You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.
“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.
Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.
“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.
Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.
Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.
‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?
You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.
“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”
You swallow. “How long do I have left?”
“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“
“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”
“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”
Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”
“Simple enough. What else?”
‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”
Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”
“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.
Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.
Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.
“Ow?” You wince.
The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”
He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—
“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”
Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.
“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.
“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.
…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”
“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”
The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”
“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”
Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”
This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.
Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”
Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.
You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”
“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.
Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.
“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.
Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”
“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”
“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”
You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”
At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.
He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.
“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.
Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!
“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.
Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”
You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.
“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.
“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.
This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.
You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).
“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.
“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—
you stop breathing.
It doesn’t hurt.
Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.
No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.
“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”
“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.
You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.
“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”
Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.
“Not here.”
“What—?”
You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…
Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.
Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.
Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.
You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?
You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”
“You should know this place.”
And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“
“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.
The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.
“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”
“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.
“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”
The…promise?
A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”
“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”
A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.
“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.
///
Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.
Of course it wasn’t just a ring.
Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.
“Look at me.”
Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.
“Look at me.”
And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.
“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.
“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.
He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”
Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.
A good girl wouldn’t like this.
Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…
“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”
Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…
But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.
You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.
“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…
And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?
It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.
“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”
“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“
“Then look at me.”
It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.
Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.
Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.
“Does it hurt?”
A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“
“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.
And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”
This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—
and it doesn’t hurt anymore?
You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“
The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”
“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”
“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.
You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.
“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”
“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”
“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”
“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.
“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!
And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.
You didn’t know it was like this.
Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:
because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?
///
It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.
What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.
Overhaul’s still here.
He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.
You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”
“Yes—”
At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.
“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”
“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.
Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.
So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.
Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.
It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”
He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.
When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.
“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.
#overhaul x reader#chisaki kai x reader#bnha x reader#bnha imagines#mha imagines#tw dubcon#tw sacrilege#tw christianity#overhaul#chisaki kai#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero imagines#my hero academia x reader#my hero imagines#boku no hero fanfic#smut
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Emotional Support Mode
Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader
Summary:
in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -
Word count: 2,243
a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns
Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.
read it on ao3!
You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.
“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.
“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”
Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thank you.”
It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’
Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.
You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.
“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.
“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.
“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”
“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”
----
“What time is it, Friday?”
“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”
You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,
“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.
“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”
You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”
Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.
Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”
Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.
“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.
“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”
He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.
“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.
“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.
You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”
“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”
You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.
“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”
If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”
“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”
They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?
“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”
“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”
----
“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”
“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”
“No. Happy will drive you.”
Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.
Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”
“Not now, boss.”
Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”
“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”
Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.
“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”
“That would be an invasion of privacy.”
“I’m her father-”
“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.
It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.
You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.
Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.
“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.
“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.
He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”
----
“How do you feel?”
You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”
“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”
“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.
“Alright.”
You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.
What’s the occasion?
“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.
“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.
“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”
Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”
“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.
He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.
“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”
“I know you’re just saying that to-”
“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”
You blush, “Dad-”
“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”
“I did.”
“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”
You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory, “I did.”
“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”
“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.
“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.
You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”
“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”
“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”
Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”
You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.
----
It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.
“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”
“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”
“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.
Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.
They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.
“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”
“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”
“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.
“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.
Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.
#tony stark#tony stark imagines#tony stark x reader#tony stark x daughter!reader#tony stark x stark!reader#iron man#iron man imagines#tony stark fluff#iron man fluff#marvel#marvel imagines#avengers#avengers x reader#avengers x you#fluff#marvel cinematic universe#mcu imagines#mcu#natasha romanoff#peter parker#rhodey#james rhodes#bucky barnes#steve rogers#clint barton#vision#thor#thor odinson#bruce banner#sam wilson
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Hi Taylor!! I’m a big fan of your new blog!! I’ve loved reading your works for long time so I’m excited to see what you’ll do on here! If you are accepting prompts, can I toss this one at you? In reference to your fantasy mix and match post: mix the fae and/or the only one without magic in an urban fantasy setting
💜💜 ~~riley
Rileeey, hi! When I saw your url show up in my notes on here I was like :0 I recognize them! I'm glad you're enjoying the new stuff, I'm enjoying writing it! This is urban fantasy in the loosest sense, in that it’s a fantasy au but takes place in modern time with technology and stuff, but it mostly turned into lab whump!
CW: kidnapping, unethical experiments, descriptions of burns/burning, dehumanization and using ‘it’ to refer to a Person.
---
"Now, if you'll come this way, I can show you our most recently acquired specimen."
Dr. Hess led the Director through the halls of the laboratory quickly, heart racing in their chest. It wasn't every day that The Director came to visit in person, and Hess thanked their lucky stars it was the day they were set to begin a new round of tests. The Director liked to be impressed when they came to visit, and save for the new arrival, there hadn't been any breakthroughs lately that were sure to be particularly notable.
"What sort of specimen is it?" The Director asked, somehow managing to sound both interested in and bored by the exchange.
"Nothing like I've ever seen," Hess said truthfully. "A hybrid; the product of a union between a fae and a human practitioner."
The Director raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds like a powerful combination...any difficulty restraining it?"
"That's the thing," said Hess, shaking their head. "It hasn’t displayed any traits of the fae or the practitioner. Aside from a few physical characteristics that point to fairy ancestry, you could be forgiven for assuming it was completely human. Right through here," they added, opening a door and stepping aside to let The Director enter.
The room had been prepared especially for today’s experiments by one of Dr. Hess’s assistants. Video cameras were set up around the room, and a table of various instruments sat waiting to be used. And in the center of the room, strapped down to an examination table, was the subject of the day.
It lifted its head when Hess and The Director came into the room, its eyes blown wide with fear.
“Please,” it said immediately. “Please, just let me go.”
Hess ignored it, and instead pulled their voice recorder from their pocket.
"This is Doctor Riley Hess, recording experiments on subject 32-B in Room-S. Observing with me today is The Agency Director. Subject 32-B is the resulting hybrid offspring from a powerful practitioner and a fae's carnal relationship."
"Please," the subject whispered, tugging weakly at its bonds. "Please, my moms have to be so worried, just let me go..."
"Despite subject 32-B's parentage, they appear to display no magical aptitude whatsoever. Today's experiments will focus on the effects of anti-fae charms on their physiology. I hypothesize that since they show no aptitude towards magic or spell casting that they will also be unaffected by items and charms that are known to normally harm or repel the fae.
"I, I won't tell anyone," it begged. "I promise, please, just-"
"Cease speaking, or you will be forcefully stopped,” interrupted The Director coolly.
The subject clamped its mouth shut, and Hess picked up a fire poker, one of the many instruments that had been set out for them on the table.
“Test one,” they said aloud. “Subject’s reaction to pure iron.”
Hess pressed the poker against the hybrid’s bare arm. It’s eyes widened, but it did not flinch away or let out a cry of pain.
“Subject seems to have no adverse reaction...to…” Hess paused as they lifted the poker away.
The spot of skin that had been beneath the poker was not burned, as they’d seen happen with pure-blooded fae before, but it was not unblemished. A faint, red tinge was left behind, already beginning to fade . Hess met the subject’s eyes, and it swallowed nervously.
“Describe the sensation of touching the iron,” Hess demanded, pressing the poker back onto its arm.
“I...it’s warm,” the subject said.
“How warm?” Hess pressed. “Be specific.”
“It’s like...it’s like putting your hands under a faucet while the water gets hotter.”
“Fascinating,” The Director murmured, and Hess felt a wave of relief. The Director was happy; work could continue for another month or two unhindered.
The subject twitched, and when Hess looked back down its face had contorted into a wince.
“It’s getting hotter,” it said, frowning up at them. “It…” they hissed, squeezing their eyes shut. “It hurts, please take it off now,” they said through gritted teeth.
Dr. Hess glanced at The Director, who shook their head; the poker stayed where it was.
“Please, it hurts, make it-” the subject cut off with a gasp of pain, and it tried to jerk away, but the restraints held fast. “Please!” it cried tears springing to its eyes. “It hurts, please!”
Dr. Hess didn’t move, just pressed the poker harder against the subject’s arm. It was screaming now, tears pouring down its face as it thrashed against the table. The acrid smell of seared flesh filled Hess’s nostrils, and they wrinkled their nose. When they were done here, they could do with a round of aromatherapy.
Hess stood silently, the subject’s shrieks of pain echoing off the walls in a cacophony of misery, until at last, The Director made a cutting motion across their throat. Hess pulled the poker back, revealing a sickening, twisted mass of black and blistered skin. The subject sobbed, its whole body shaking as The Director leaned in closer to examine the burn.
“Subject has sustained significant third degree burns after prolonged exposure to the iron,” Hess said into their recorder. “The longer the subject experienced contact with the metal, the more intense the burn became. Magical healing will not be administered, in order to compare natural healing times with a pure-blooded fae’s.”
“P-please,” the subject choked weakly, but Hess continued to ignore it.
The Director was intrigued now, and Hess needed to ride that wave for as long as they could.
“Second test,” they said, picking up a new tool, and the subject sobbed again. “Subject’s reaction to salt.”
#whump fic#whump#fae whumpee#magical whump#lab whump#fantasy whump#fae whump#nonhuman whumpee#burns tw#my writing
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DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, MORE BLOOD Vol.13 Kino [Track 2]
Original title: 寒冷
Source: Diabolik Lovers More, More Blood Vol. 13 Kino [CD not owned by me]
Audio: Here (15:28 ~ 29:54)
Seiyuu: Tomoaki Maeno
Translator’s note: I was already kind of curious about the contents of this track from reading the title, but as soon as the MC returned from the cafeteria with a popsicle, I already knew what was going to happen. I can really imagine the struggles of having a boyfriend like Kino who loves pulling pranks on you. Although compared to some of the other stuff the boys have done to her, being teased with a popsicle isn’t even all that bad. Seeing him try and make it up to her afterwards made for a cute moment as well.
Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue
→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!
Track 2: Coldness
“ーー And then I ended up arguing with Yuuri over who is correct. What do you think? Which one of us was right?”
You hesitate.
“Seems like you’re having trouble answering my question. Don’t hold back and just tell me. In return, I’ll punish you if you don’t say it was me.”
You frown.
“You’re struggling that much? Guess I have no other choice. I’ll give you some time. Try and come up with an answer by the end of classes today.”
The two of you come to a halt.
“...So, is this the classroom we had to move to? (1)”
You explain.
“The science lab, huh? It’s really such a pain that science classes take place in a different classroom. Oh well, guess it’s fine. Hurry up and open the door.”
*Rattle*
“...Hm? What’s wrong? You’re not going inside?”
You close the door again.
“...Eh? Why did you close the door again? Don’t we have class here?”
You tell him it’s the wrong room.
“Haah!? Who goes to the wrong classroom!? Unlike me, you’ve been going to this school for quite some time, right?”
You apologize.
“Honestly...I don’t know whether you’re just slow-witted or if you actually have a few screws loose...”
You seem confused.
“Eh? What’s weird?”
You tell him there seem to be more doors than usual.
“What are you saying? You’re just imagining things, no? There’s no way the number of doors would suddenly increase. Doesn’t it just feel that way? It’s no good to try and blame your own mistakes on someone or something else. Also, that barely makes for a decent excuse.”
You insist.
*Dingー Dongー ・ Dingー Dongー*
“Ah-aaah...Right, right. There’s more doors than usual, huh? Anyway, the bell of the next period just rang. We won’t make it in time for our class so what should we do?”
You frown.
“Well, if we’re confirmed late, might as well say ‘screw it’, right?
You tilt your head to the side.
“You know, let’s just skip class.”
You protest.
“If we go now, we’ll just get scolded for being late, right? So why not? ...Come on, this way! Let’s go!”
Kino drags you along.
*TIMESKIP*
“Fufufu~ I’m almost done with this quest...”
*Tap tap*
“Ahー But before that, I have to use this item.”
*Tap tap*
“Hm? What do you want? I’m busy playing my game right now.”
You seem anxious to get in trouble for skipping.
“You’re still worried about that? We already skipped class, so there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
*Tap tap*
“Isn’t spending time out on the rooftop during class something you have to do at least once while you’re young? We’re here now anyway, so you should try and have some fun as well.”
You frown.
“No buts! ...Ah, I get it. You end up having unnecessary worries because you’re bored, no? In that case, I’ll give you something to do.”
You tilt your head to the side.
“There’s a cafeteria on campus where you can purchase food and such, right? Go buy me something there.”
You ask him what to get.
“Hmー Let’s see...What to choose? ...Then, how about you get something you think I’d like?”
You want him to be a little more specific.
“What would that be? The whole point is that you figure it out.”
You whine.
“It’s not difficult, is it? If you’ve been keeping a close eye on me, it should be a piece of cake! ...Pick the thing that would make me the most happy! Alsoーー”
*Rustle*
“You better not keep me waiting, so I expect you back here in ten minutes, okay? If you’re even one second late...You’ll get a pentalty.”
You flinch.
“Come on. Hurry up.”
You run away.
*TIMESKIP*
*Creaaak*
“Ah! You’re finally back...!”
You ask if you made it back in time.
“Haah? What are you saying? You didnt even come close to making it back on time. Just how far did you have to go for those?”
You explain.
“You got lost? You’ve been a student at this academy for a while, haven’t you? That doesn’t make any sense. Stop making those lousy excuses.”
You try and defend yourself.
“Hmm~? So you got the location of the cafeteria wrong? I guess you went down the wrong stairs or something? Oh well, whatever. More importantly, hurry up and hand it over. You obviously got one of my favorites, right?”
*Rustle rustle*
“...Eh? That?”
You nod.
“Ice cream...? Haah...”
You frown, asking him if he doesn’t like ice cream
“It’s not that ice cream’s bad or anything but...Why didn’t you get me guava juice? You know that I like it, don’t you?”
You tell him that wasn’t an option.
“Haah!? They don’t sell it here!? They really should reconsider their line-up then. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Not only did you make me wait forever, and on top of that, you weren’t able to buy something which would make me happy. Fufu~”
*Rustle*
“This calls...for a punishment.”
You protest.
“No point in fighting back. ...Come here.”
Kino pulls you close.
“Gotcha. When I’m holding you tightly from behind like this, you can no longer get away, can you? That being said, this ice cream has been well chilled. I’m sure it would feel extremely cold if I were to press it against your skin. For example...Against the back of your nape.”
*Rustle*
You flinch.
“You’re already reacting that strongly from just slightly brushing it across? I wonder what would happen if I were to slip it inside your clothes then? Aren’t you curious?”
You shake your head.
“Oh come on~ No need to be modest. Come on...”
*Rustle*
He presses the ice cream against your bare skin as you shriek.
“...Ahaha! Did you hear yourself just now? Well, I guess it would feel cold and disgusting to have an entire popsicle slide down your back. Ah-aah...Your uniform’s a mess as well.”
You call him out for bullying you.
“I’m not being mean, am I? It’s a punishment after all. Besides, that scream just now wasn’t half bad, you know? I’d love to hear it one more time.”
You tell him the ice cream has already melted.
“Guess so. You didn’t buy more than one popsicle after all. ...But you know, I have this.”
*Cling*
“If we use the hourglass to reload, the ice cream and your uniform will return to their original state. You should be grateful.
*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*
ーーー
*Creaaak*
“Ah! You’re finally back...! ...Hehe, you gave the exact same reaction as earlier. Why are you looking around in confusion? I told you I would reload, didn’t I? Time got turned back. You remember what happened earlier, don’t you?”
Kino approaches you.
“Exactly. Seems like you properly recall. I pulled you close like this...”
*Rustle*
“...And played with you using this popsicle you bought, didn’t I?”
*Rustle rustle*
“Say...There’s something I’m curious about. I can test it out, right? You already know just how cold this ice cream is. The chilled sensation from having it directly pressed up against your skin. So I was wondering...How will your body react if I repeat the same action one more time, now that you’re already well aware of how it’ll feel?”
You try and get away.
*Rustle rustle*
“...Woah there! You better don’t think I’ll let you get away!”
He grabs hold of your wrist.
“...There. Gotcha.”
*Rustle rustle*
“No point in resisting. There’s just no way you could get away from me after all.”
Kino opens the popsicle.
“There we go~ It’s time for the ice cream you’ve just been dying for~ If I run it across your nape like this...”
You flinch.
“Exactly. You can feel it even stronger when you already know what to expect, don’t you? I wonder if it’s your brain playing tricks on you...?”
*Rustle*
“...Hm? What? Throwing in the towel already? Guess I have no other choice. In that case, I’ll warm you up next.”
*Sluuuurp*
“Hm...The taste of this popsicle is pretty mediocre. I don’t think I could finish the whole thing. The person who bought it should take responsibility and eat it all instead. Here you go.”
He forces the popsicle inside your mouth.
“You’re whining was starting to annoying me, so this works perfectly. Keep it in between your teeth for a bit, okay? Meanwhile I’ll dig into this to cleanse my palate. In the end, it seems like I...”
*Rustle*
“...enjoy this the very best. mmh...”
Kino bites you.
*Gulp gulp gulp*
“Nn...You like this too, don’t you? The whimpers slipping through...They’re different compared to when I teased you earlier. They’re sweet yet sorrowful. Almost as if you’re begging for me.”
*Rustle*
“Let me hear more of those...”
*Rustle*
“...Ah!”
You drop the popsicle.
*Splatter*
“Ah-aah...The popsicle fell down. Your skirt’s a mess now as well.”
You apologize.
“Why are you saying sorry? Ahー Because you dropped it? I don’t care, really. ー Wait, what’s with that face? You’re in tears. Your lips are all sticky from the ice cream as well. I’ll wipe you clean, so look this way.”
You turn around.
*Rustle rustle*
“Perhaps I took my teasings a little too far? ...Were you scared?”
You nod.
“I see. ...Fufu. You’re such a crybaby, how cute~”
*Smooch*
“There, all clean. Now cheer up, okay? You don’t want things to become awkward between us, do you? I guess that leaves your skirt...Honestly, it’s kind of a drag, so would you like me to turn back time to before you dropped the popsicle?”
You ask him if it’s okay.
“Of course I don’t mind. ...But in return, I might mess with you again~”
You protest.
“I’m just kidding. Let’s kill some time together until classes end? Ah! But don’t get the wrong idea, okay? I’ll still use the hourglass. ...Well then, how should we enjoy ourselves next~?”
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー
Translation notes
(1) At Japanese high schools, students stay in the same classroom for 90% of the classes. For some subjects like science, art, etc. they may move to a different classroom which has the right facilities and material. These are called 移動教室 or ‘idō-kyōshitsu’.
#diabolik lovers#dialovers#kino#diabolik lovers more more blood#diabolik lovers translation#diabolik lovers drama cd#drama cd
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Insanity brings me truth and you
can you guess what Peter's doing to not be understood by the guards?
It's not easy, being crazy. There are expectations to run away from, a bar to limbo under, a specific number of people one has to betray and scar. The unknowable becomes knowable, so you have to skirt the edge of that Venn diagram very carefully. Or very recklessly. Either way, it's a complex thing except for when it's not. Jesus, how infuriating to think about. The point is, the paradox that crazies carry on their shoulders? It's a fucking hassle, a tricky one and Peter is tired of it.
He sighs, lets gravity bend him backward, legs slipping dangerously off the blanket he's hung as a hammock inside his cell. Act like a psycho and you're predictable, don't act like an ax wielding murderer and whoops! Predictable. It's the downside of being insane; you leave the weary capitalist consumer mask out in the world, probably set that shit on fire and make yourself sick with the fumes. But you just replace it with the one labelled 'danger to society' and get forced to play along with that. He did what he did to avoid the world and its predetermined fate, its standards.
Peter closes his eyes, thinks of the nauseating smell on his left. Rupert, the guard that dared graze him while he came back from the shower naked, has a broken nose thanks to Ned and his loyalty to him. The idiot barely cleans the open wound and the whole cell reeks of pus because of it. He does the math of how long it's been going on for and shudders in disgust. His bare calves slip a little more.
An inhale near the front of his cage. Slow, but controlled. Not the usual. Thank God for a circus family and heightened senses.
The doctor is paying attention to him.
"Doctor Stark. Gnittor gnihtemos llems ouy nac?" Rupert grumbles from his perch on the second floor, curses a hare brained psycho that's incomprehensible. Peter hums, pleased to know that after ten months, nine days, twelve hours, and...
Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on sinking deeper into nothing, into a yawning void. The blanket shakes and his thighs are starting to tremble. Blood is rushing to his head, veins most likely beginning to protrude. Irrelevant.
His favorite guard Stan wears a Swiss watch his wife got for him on their fortieth anniversary. It sings to him now, smooth and cool like a river. A skipping stone is thrown, tic, a fish heads towards the sound, toc. Above all the other stimuli in the room, the watch announces itself. Ten fifteen.
Ten months, nine days, twelve hours and twenty minutes into a game, his tiny gnat still hasn't caught on. Not like the charming doctor. He sees him then, behind closed eyelids, as clearly as a sweet nightmare. Tall, taller than Peter, but less strong. Wide shoulders that morph into a slim waist and a delectable ass he aches to sink his teeth into. Shapely calves from running, curiously delicate looking ankles.
Down and back again. A full head of dark hair with a dusting of silver. Dangerously clever mouth, what his aunt would call a noble nose. Agreeable cheekbones. Piercing eyes that tear his walls down, rip apart the bricks and mortar until he's scrambling on the other side, desperately, clumsily attempting to reinforce them for the millionth time. Those eyes saw the trick, the mirror reflection on his second day here, Peter offhandedly talking in reverse with Ned when they passed the new doctor. A dark gaze had pinned him in place, a spider fixed in place with its own silk against the cold dissection table.
Ned had rambled on, Peter had met a worthy playmate and the doctor had seen all he needed in that eternally prolonged glance. That very afternoon, a psychiatrist signed on as his very own voyeur.
Doctor Stark seems to be as interested in cutting him open to peek inside as Peter is in taking a dagger and comparing their hearts. He does this a lot; wonders how fate and the absence of lucky fate led them here. On opposite sides of a prison when perhaps it should be the other way around. Or perhaps there should only be Peter and Doctor Stark.
He feels himself falling, plummeting ever downward into fantasies and hazy dreams. It's not until the good doctor sharply calls out his name that he realizes he's also plummeting towards the floor. Now, MJ had warned him; had specifically said that the hammock being ten feet off the concrete ground was a bad idea. Ned had said he'd be fine and Peter loves the guy, ok? He has to do everything he can so that his best friend wins a bet over his other best friend.
Peter slightly regrets that when he's forced to arch his body backward, flip right side up in order to hit the floor on his feet instead of his face. The impact chokes the air right out of him, shakes his bones, but he doesn't react. Cracks his neck and that's all. Most of the guards were kind, some shade of understanding. They weren't harmless, though. He knows what he looks like, knows how many hours these men are cooped up with the scum of the earth.
"To answer your question," Peter leaps onto the bars of his cell, slithers higher than any sane person would and somersaults off the vertical slits, sinks into his trustworthy hammock with its trustworthy knots (MJ and Ned had tied them, one each), "yes, I do. It's less potent this time."
He stills, frowns. "How? There haven't been any changes. External or internal." No need to act like the Mad Hatter when the conversation could be had normally. Quicker and more reliable with meanings. But the doctor pauses, enunciates his next words slowly.
"Ti koot uoy erom emit yadot." God, he loved hearing Doctor Stark talk that carefully and smoothly. It was as comforting as it was uncomfortable. (He and sex don't particularly get along. It's like a headache that comes and goes; with the right medicine it can dissipate and evolve into something soothing, pleasant. With the majority of medicine, it blossoms into pain and soreness, a dry throat clogged by a thick syrup that won't leave him be no matter how much water MJ and Ned encourage him to drink. Peter isn't yet completely certain which side of his scale the doctor falls on, but he's guessing it's likely the first.)
(The man seemed to live in the grey areas; fitting that with this, too, he'd reside in the in between.)
The reverse effect is in play and he grins, genuine and wide, when he catches it. "Monsters are visiting more frequently, taking up space in the light." His nightmares had intensified recently, and they're starting to accompany him even in moments Peter knows are real; shapes drifting by the corner of his eye. As a coping tactic, he rips parts of his nails off. Not entirely, just the corners. His mind could concoct lots of things, but in his dreams his hands are always pristine.
(He hasn't caught up with it, hasn't noticed that although his nightmares have a clearness to them, a bright intensity, Peter can't shift enough focus to realize his hands aren't his own. They never are. But he usually has more pressing bodies to deal with than the good doctor's.)
Another pause, this one being done by Tony Stark, doctor and healer of men, instead of Doctor Stark, curious keeper of deranged souls. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe this will help." Peter peers over the edge of the grey hammock, watches with interest as the doctor approaches his cell with a glass bottle of clear liquid sloshing inside. The other man stops an inch away from the bars, looks up at Peter.
There's a slow tension simmering between them, something as thick and addictive as honey. There's scientific curiosity, a desire to seek out and maybe comprehend the unknown lurking inside their mirror image, as other and as alike as oneself. But there is also a gleam of something he's afraid of acknowledging in Doctor Stark's eyes. A madness once tucked away steadily unraveling itself with each glance they share.
Peter returns the look, unblinking and thinking. " 'If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.' " A lesson Nietzsche offered to those wise enough, sane enough to live blind.
The doctor raises an eyebrow, is otherwise still. Sometimes, if Peter considers their current predicament for too long, his grasp on his masks loosens, and the Spider begins to spin its deadly thread round and round its very own body. He sees a guard exchange money with a partner; the crazy quota has, he guesses, been filled for the week. And they had such a nice streak going on, too. Oh, well. This web is unavoidable anyways.
He pitches himself forward, is the one who controls the descent instead of gravity this time. Letting the air rush up to meet him, he inhales, tastes a distinct sharpness around him. Crouching, Peter takes it all in, every last detail. Looks, really looks, at the doctor and suspects.
As if he were none the wiser, he calmly heads to the front of the cell. Meets the doctor at the divide and wonders what it'll be. Wonders if he'll rise higher than ash and flame, an acrobat testing the fates by flying just seconds ahead of death. Doctor Stark hands him the bottle and he can see now, tiny pieces of lavender. A distraction for the guards. "That should keep the monsters in the dark. Use it before you got to sleep and tuck away your hair."
Like a schoolgirl with a crush, he self consciously brings a hand to his curls. They're getting a bit long, but the warden only allows haircuts once a month or two. "I don't have anything to use." Digging into his lab coat, the other man retrieves a single black stick.
Well, to everyone else it's a hair pin. Peter knows the truth though, can see it and smell it and very nearly touch it. As it is, he gently plucks the items out of elegant hands and refuses to look at them. Looking draws attention. Doctor Stark gazes at his face, eyes flickering in a rehearsed way around his own, but not into them. That's alright, he understands.
"The lack of movement around your face should also help." The question of why is out before he can reel it in and act as a sane, normal person. Christ, he could handle crazy, not rude. He would have to practice being in control so as not to slip up when the doctor is around. Said doctor cocks his head, doesn't have to do anything more for Peter to get the message: go on, ask the devil why he made the deal.
Peter B Parker does not back down when intrigued. "Why are you helping me sleep better?"
Why help me escape?
"It's my duty." Three words. Not the explicit declaration of affection typical, normal, dull people receive from an admirer or partner. Not a grand proclamation of wanting what the heart wants, or a sonnet regarding the connection between star crossed paramours. Simple, short, concise; enough to turn to religion, to sanctity and salvation if it means hearing it again. He'd do anything, including putting on a discarded mask from his past if it gets him what he desires. Peter would suffer through sanity for this man. He would if it means hearing what sounds silent to those around them.
You're my duty. Whatever happens tonight, Doctor Stark believes it's his duty to see it through. To see him through, in a way.
"Why would you accept?" Ah, silly doc thinking any of his principles have changed since the first time they met, since the first time he brought fire to life and gave death in return. Peter smiles, brings forth the prisoner that had not seen the light of day in almost a decade.
(His uncle often said Peter's greatest gift to the world was his smile, his true smile. His aunt said it was the final move needed to capture a king and make him his pawn.)
"Why, doc, you know I hate to be bored." Call him a psycho, a freak, a sick, pitiful creature. Call him anything and everything and maybe those words would ring true. But Peter will never allow himself to be bored, not when there's so much fun to be had. Especially with a doctor as crazy as he is. "This looks...promising."
" 'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.' " The first part of Nietzsche's warning.
"Nietzsche didn't understand; those who fought monsters were already fated to become what they struggled to defeat. They believed salvation could be found by killing the monsters outside, but all they did was feed the ones inside."
Anthony Stark, the truest version, grins at him, all glinting eyes, sharp teeth and a crooked smile. Peter Parker, armed with a match, gasoline and soon to be glass shards, grins right back. In this instant, being crazy isn't such a hassle. After all, he has someone to share the crazy with now.
#starker#dark!starker#insane!peter#insane!tony#patient!peter#doctor!tony#peter parker x tony stark#i mean sorta dark#arsonist!peter#demisexual!peter#legit a harley/joker version where theres no manipulation#theyre insane and in love yall#sophie writes
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Plants Make Better Company Than People (Poison Ivy x Reader)
Summary: You are a plant loving/fanatic as well as having an interest in poisons/toxins. You move to Gotham and become interested in the existence of Poison Ivy, and one day your paths cross.
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A Poison Ivy x Reader/You Fic I wrote a few years ago. I had planned to do a reader x villains fic series a while ago but never got past Ivy (for some reason). Light Editing. Might as well post it cause why not.
No specific pronouns were used in fic. The relationship between the reader/you and Poison Ivy can be platonic or romantic; the choice is up to you. Light alcohol is mentioned.
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You were a gardener that had moved to Gotham, where the work took you. You didn’t mind moving but it broke your heart, every time you had to abandon your little children behind. Like human children, a parent would worry if their child was being taken care. Being fed, being raised properly to their full potential and perhaps more.
You were fascinated with plants for as long as you could remember, being raised in a simple life. You preferred to be outside as much as possible, exploring the wonders of nature.
Overtime, you became infatuated with plants in a way. It was not as if you didn’t like humans but they weren’t exactly the best company at times. People had opinions and most of the time, if yours and their opinions didn’t match up-
Well, let’s just say you prefer venting to plants.
They didn’t protest as you humans did and you could always seek refuge in them. Hidden from the world that humans had built yourselves.
There were so many varieties and were constantly changing- ever so slowly. Adapting.
You learned a few things from plants as you got older.
When you were old enough of higher education, you studied Botany and learned how to use the medicinal properties of the plants.
That’s how serious you were with plants.
You studied off first as a florist while slowly building your own collection of flowers. You learned about them, their biology and their meanings, before offering your knowledge to others.
Then you became a gardener, to get more in touch with the plants and out of the confides of your greenhouse.
Then you slowly made your way up.
Now here you are at a botanical garden in Gotham.
You hadn’t spent much time here but so far, it was great. You had your own person greenhouse and lab for you to work in. Your colleagues were good, some more then others, and your boss was also a good one too.
That’s always a plus.
Compared to what you’ve learned about Gotham, the expectation of such nature was a bit unexpected.
On the other hand, your company was mostly plants then people so what did you know?
During your time in Gotham though, you became accustomed to the dangers there. The crime of gangs and drug cartels were here and there, being robbed, and of course Batman dealings with villains.
Compared to your quiet life, Gotham was a big change.
Though not all bad.
For example, there was Poison Ivy.
At first, you thought people were talking about the actual plant. Then you learned about that it was actually a villain.
A red head that was able to control plants and from the whispers here and there, you learned it was more than that.
Fascinating.
Perhaps that was why your boss commented on your arrival. How it was good to see someone new here, despite everything.
It appeared that Poison Ivy had a tendency to be attracted to all things plants and well- you know how it goes.
Instead of the opinion that your colleagues shared, you honestly wanted to meet Poison Ivy. She may have some rare plants or may share some of her own information with you. What was it like to have plants communicating to you? Were they like talking to humans with specifics or were they basic? Was is it like to have a hive mind of plants at your disposal?
There were so many questions you wanted to ask.
However, you weren’t careless.
Poison Ivy could have a reason to kill you, just for the plants. Although you may share her opinion, you still had the desire to live.
So you kept your questions and desire to yourself…
But what was the harm of talking to your plants?
The answer: There was a bit harm in that.
It happened one night.
You were focusing and monitoring the planets in the botanical garden. The security wasn’t functioning well and there was some kind of poison going around.
You and your boss, who was in their late ages, were fine.
Apparently, your boss had spent sometime with poison over the years so they were fine.
Your colleagues? Not so lucky.
None of them were dead but it could’ve been lethal.
You found them passing out one by one and you knew it was immediately. That was how your boss found you.
Grabbing medicine from the plants that you grew and harvested, grounding up and mixing them to make an antidote. Or to make your colleagues regurgitate the poison and building acid.
Whatever came first really.
Your colleagues were safe when the paramedics came. You gave your witness report to the police and paramedics, giving them details of the organs and what may have gone wrong.
Was it gas poisoning? It couldn’t have since there was constantly ventilation to let gas out. So it had to be directly ingested.
Batman had came and it was terrifying to see him.
Even more so when you had to talk to them.
With Commissioner Gordon and Batman, you were sweating.
It helped imagining them as plants.
Only a little.
You were questioned to how you weren’t poisoned and where did you learn how to make the antidote.
There was no need to lie since you could’ve been mistaken as the culprit.
So you told them.
How you were interested in plants and one time accidentally ate some poisonous plants here and there from your curiosity, you eventually developed a resistance to poison.
You kept that up when you found out herbal medicine and how some plants and how they were combined, could be medicine or poison.
Subjecting yourself to poison, to see how they affected the human body. How dangerous they were and to see if they could beneficial.
You may or may not have been a bit too eager when explaining.
However, you weren’t guilty.
You had an alibi from your landlady and your neighbours. After finding out the state of the garden and backyard, you had gave a hasty excuse to your boss.
Then you began to take care of the garden.
When you were asked why, you told them.
There was poisonous plants in the gardens and they were affecting the vegetable gardens. When you were offered some by your neighbours and had a taste test, to taste the freshness, you knew the bitter taste.
That shouldn’t been right.
So you immediately told your neighbours to stop and looked into the garden. There were poisonous plants affecting the roots of the vegetables and there were some that could’ve been mistaken as an ingredient.
And there was somehow marijuana plants growing here and there- you didn’t want your neighbour’s kids being affected by ignorance.
So you spent some time getting rid and burning away all the poison and making antidotes for your neighbours.
After giving another report to the police, you were let go.
Now, here you were, at the Botanical garden.
You volunteered to watch over until they got a new security guard to come in. Your boss told you to be careful before they left- after all he still had to make a statement to the police and visit their hospitalized workers.
You spent the time watering the plants, trimming them, and preparing seedlings. You monitored them and when you were done with your rounds, you went to your lab.
You began to restock your ingredients from earlier before cleaning up. You passed time by inducing more poison to yourself to test your latest experiment and then made your way to your latest project.
A rare plant.
It was a tricky one indeed. The pH of the soil had to be right and the water had to be at the right temperature at the right time, as well at the air. If something wasn’t right, there was a small window of time before it died.
Shifting the light brightness, you wrote down your findings and made sure everything was right.
You spent most of your day and time to make sure the seedlings sprouted and helped them grow up.
You found out that this plant grew better if you played “Rite of Spring” by Igor Stravinsky, then the usual Beethoven and other composers.
Yes, you played songs for your plants.
So, sue you.
When you went to your lab, you could feel your latest experiment affecting you. You flexed your arm and noted your observation.
‘Slight numbness to nerves but still very conscious. Hindering of movements doesn’t seem obvious but requires more time to know. Oddly, I can feel my blood pumping faster like a stimulant. I wonder what happens if I used snake-‘
Then you heard the alarms going off when the windows broke.
You stood up and you could feel the tremor occurring underneath your feet.
Widening your eyes, you followed the movements to the center and found yourself at the rare plants.
You gaped at the sudden appearance of a giant plant and saw a red head, approaching the plant carefully.
It was Poison Ivy.
Your face felt heated and the questions you wanted to ask started to consume your thoughts.
You were dazed until you saw her about to pry the door open.
“WAIT!” you yelled.
Your body went cold when Poison Ivy looked at her.
‘Oh she’s very pretty’ you noted but you were sweating in nervousness.
“Oh, so there was one who didn’t get affected” commented Ivy, turning towards you.
You should be scared. You should be running and calling the police- or Batman!
But you decided not to.
“For those with regular resistance and at peak health, the poison that my colleagues were affected with would’ve worked. Not enough to kill but considering there were a couple of my colleagues who smoked and overdrink then necessary, it could’ve been.”
Poison Ivy was now interested as you as she sat on a giant leave. You noted how bouncy the leaf was when she sat down.
“Oh, so you knew the poison in them?” smiled Ivy, interestingly.
You walked a bit closer and opened a shelf, pulling out a container.
“As a person who regularly ingests poison, I know the effects of certain poisons affecting the organs and what kind of effects they have” you told her.
“You know how to make poisons? Well, that’s interesting” commented Ivy, getting off from her seat.
‘Keep your cool- maybe someone will come soon now that the security has been triggered’ you thought.
“Certain plants can be used as medicine but the wrong combination can be lethal” you said, walking closer to her.
“You’re not some regular botanists, are you?” asked Poison Ivy, raising her hand.
You watched as the plants around you started to react as a vine wrapped around her arm.
“I like humans but plants make better company” you confessed while shrugging.
That was the truth.
“Indeed…” agreed the Villainess.
You yelped when the vines started to grab you and lift you in the air. Your arms were restrained with your legs and they were getting tighter.
“I appreciate the chat but I need to take this child away” said Poison Ivy before making her way over to you. A leaf grew underneath her, and it raised her up like a platform.
You felt her drag a finger from the side of your cheek and bring it underneath your chin.
You could feel the poison Ivy gave you and you could feel it happening then-
“Nothing?” she said confused.
You were confused then you realized, “Oh yeah the snake venom” you commented.
“You gave yourself snake venom?” said Ivy, a bit shocked.
You shrugged, “I left the venom in the snake wine that I have. Alcohol no longer stimulates as it usually does…unless I drink a barrel though that’s out of my usual pay raise.”
Ivy looked at you and you coughed awkwardly.
There was silence and then you shifted, trying to ease out of the bindings. Now with the stimulates in you, this was getting uncomfortable for the situation.
“If you want to take the child away, you better use that container. It should regulate the environment and keep it in good condition until you plant it-“ you rattled off awkwardly, trying not to look at Ivy.
“You’re going to let me take it her?” Her voice unamused.
“Call the child they/them- it is a bisexual flower” you deadpanned.
Ivy looked and nodded, “Yes, it is. My mistake, thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome” you responded out of instinct.
Ivy walked down and took the container from the ground and opened the door. There was a hiss of air before the door behind her closer and the second door opened.
You watched as Ivy took the child safely and transported into its carrier. Sealing it nicely and activating the conditioned environment, you watched her leave.
Or about to.
Before she stepped onto her giant plant, she turned to you.
“I didn’t get your name-“
You responded by giving her your full name.
“Well, toodles (y/n)~” she said before disappearing.
And then there was darkness with the plants started to take over you. Buds of flowers appeared and they seem to fall into themselves.
Then the petals opened and pollen like material shot out at you.
“Well, this’ll be a nice way to die” you lamented out loud.
‘I shouldn’t have spoken out loud…I just ingested god knows what’ you thought to yourself.
You could feel yourself blackening out. Your body becoming warm and woozy.
‘Well at least the plants could use the nutrients in my corpse and grow into something…Not a bad way to die I guess-‘
You blacked out after that.
You dreamt of a world where nature had taken control of the planet again. Giant magnificent trees with animals milling around, instead of humans.
There were small towns but co-existed with nature, respecting them-
Then you woke up on the floor. There was something over you and it was black. You looked around and saw Batman, kneeling by you.
There was also an oxygen mask on you.
Huh.
He must be really prepared.
“The police and paramedics are coming. What happened?” he questioned.
“Poison Ivy….poisoned the others and came to take away the…” your mouth felt dry before you shakily pointed to the room near you. “Took the child away with her”
‘No numbness in nerves. Heart and lungs operating as usual. Head clear, dry mouth-‘ you noted as Batman raised you up and took off the mask.
You accepted the water given and felt better.
“You shouldn’t have survived” commented Batman.
You re-adjusted your sitting and moved your sore neck. “Resistant to poison, remember? Though I haven’t had much luck with breathing in poison then opposed to ingesting them.”
You chuckled and looked at the cocoon of plants you were once in.
“I didn’t expect to be alive honestly” you said honestly.
Batman stared at you and allowed the paramedics to take you.
You felt fine and almost normal but for the Gotham-ites, probably better to keep to yourself.
After the incident of Ivy, you didn’t hear much anymore. You were on paid leave and were ‘recovering’.
The botanical garden was being rebuilt and upgraded.
You were checked on every time and you hid your make-shift lab from them. No need to make things more complicated then necessary.
Now here you were, in the garden on your apartment, tending to it. After the incident, you were selected to make sure which plants would go together, and taught your fellow neighbours.
It provided some nice activity for the kids, for school and otherwise, learning how plants worked and how it was beneficial.
As you watched the kids do a science project on plants, you got the water pail ready.
“I see you’re recovering well” said a voice.
You didn’t need to turn to see who it was.
You smiled to yourself before getting a bucket of compost and went to the garden plot.
“I have paid leave but it’s been boring…mostly” you noted, before mixing the soil with the compost. ‘Whoops, accidentally got a worm- back in you go buddy’.
“You’re helping the kids?” asked Ivy, standing over you. She looked off to the side as the kids were writing and drawing in their journals.
“They want to make a garden for their school- a good idea really” you said casually.
You got up and dusted the dirt from your pants and your hands.
You turned to Ivy and smiled.
“How may I help you Miss Ivy?”
And that’s how you had a relationship with Poison Ivy.
As your employer and otherwise.
#poison ivy x reader#poison ivy#pamela isley#dc comics imagine#dc comic imagines#dc comics fanfic#pamela isley x reader#fanfic#welcome to the villains#dc comics villains
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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.4}
*Severus Snape x OC*
Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.
General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing
Words: 4.7k
Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!
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The moment they were back in Snape's office, Robin got started on making them coffee. It was early afternoon by now, and she was well aware that there still was plenty of work to be done before they could move on over to the lab. Once again she offered her help with his work, but his (admittedly very much justified) objection remained that he couldn't let her grade other students' essays, and Robin had to accept that. Thus she merely sat down at the smaller table with her own coffee after handing him his, and henceforth listened to him complaining about the many stupid mistakes the second years had made in their essays. Eventually it became a real game between them, to keep a list of the most ridiculous things people had written in their essays, and to rank them by their level of idiocy. Robin, void of anything else to do for once, actually wrote it all down on a piece of parchment, both the most ridiculous statements and the ranking points they had given them.
In the end, they successfully managed to miss dinner entirely, as their game was more entertaining than either of them had anticipated. But the work was done, and Robin was proud to say that she had made it less dreadful for him after all. Even if not entirely on purpose, but still very much willingly.
"You know, you could probably fill an entire lesson just with reading out the dumbest quotes on this list and have the students figure out why it's so wrong." Robin sighed with a smirk as she stretched in her chair. The piece of parchment in front of her looked almost like a piece of art at this point, littered not only with the most desperately wrong quotes from the essays, but also Robin's corrections of them, as well as some extended elaborations on the matter and little drawings of ingredients. Yes, she had been that bored between judging ridiculous quotes.
"I could. Should I, however?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin with a not-smirk while he got up from behind his desk at last, only to sit down again across from her at the small table. Without taking his eyes off hers, he snatched the piece of parchment out from under her fingertips and only then lowered his gaze to inspect it. A few seconds passed before he frowned, and Robin smiled.
"I think you should." She remarked innocently, replying to his earlier question while leaning back in her chair. "Have them correct the mistakes, that is, not mock the person who made them."
"I am surprised that you bothered to correct them."
"Didn't have much else to do between judging students' idiocracy. Besides, at this point I really should know the second year topics, shouldn't I? Did them twice, after all."
"Twice because…?"
"Once in my own second year and then again last year when tutoring Jorien and Cas. So technically I only did them once, and then tried to teach them a second time."
"You still tutor your roommates regularly?"
"Yeah." Robin shrugged with a smile. "Not just them though, and by far not only in potions. Just this morning I actually had sixteen students, can you imagine?! Sixteen thirteen-year-olds! And they actually listened to what I said!!!"
Now Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, but the not-smirk turned into a real one; small, but definitely visible. "I had no idea that was even a possibility."
"Me neither!" Robin laughed, then kept on grinning. "So, just in case you get a suspicious amount of high quality essays from your third years next week, you know who to blame. Or who to thank."
"We will see about that." He replied with the same smirk, but then continued on a more serious note as he took another look at the parchment in his hands. "May I keep this?"
"Sure." Robin shrugged easily, and for whatever reason her heart skipped a beat. "I hope you can decipher all of it… I didn't specifically try for readability."
"I have been reading your handwriting for years, Robin. Not only in tests or essays written specifically to be handed in, but in scribbles and working notes as well. I would even say I know it quite as well as my own."
"Good." Robin couldn't help grinning at him with enough excitement to make him frown a little in suspicion. Before he could ask however, she had already summoned her handbook out of her backpack and dropped it on the table in front of him with a dull thud. "Because there's something else I have been dying to show you."
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A quiet rustling of sheets, soft breathing, hushed whispers. "Robin…" The mattress dipped gently at her side. She smiled, curling a little closer around the new source of warmth. "ROBIN!!!"
She jumped at the loud voice, sitting up with a start, and her head bumped against something hard in an instant.
"Ow…" She grumbled with a deep frown, rubbing her now aching forehead in an instant, while her eyes finally went into focus enough to see Cas sitting in front of her on her bed, rubbing her forehead just the same. Jorien sat on the other side, laughing at both their misery without a hint of guilt or pity.
"Very funny, you guys…" Robin groaned tiredly as she crossed her legs underneath her to make room for the two girls. "The last time you woke me up like this was-..."
"Happy birthday, Robin!" Both girls cheered before she could finish her sentence, and Robin had to smile despite the small mishap.
"Thank you! Is it really the twentieth already? Again?" She sighed, but by now she knew that resistance to Cas was hard, and resistance to Jorien was entirely futile.
"Twentieth of October, six o'clock in the morning!" Cas grinned, and crossed her legs as well while Jorien followed suit a few seconds later.
"Six?! Good gods…" Robin groaned exaggeratedly and frowned at them with a desperate smile. "Why on earth would you wake me up this early?"
"Because it's Thursday and our present for you requires some time before breakfast." Jorien replied factually, and Cas nodded in her usual giddy eagerness.
"Do I need to be scared?" Robin inquired with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. She knew that look on their faces, and she knew that they were up to something. A second later, a small box very much like the one she had received last year was placed in her lap and Robin opened it with a curious smile. When her eyes fell onto the contents however, her brows furrowed, and she looked up at Cas and Jorien with a big question mark on her face.
"We're not doing anything you don't want to, of course… But you liked those onyx earrings so much when we went to Hogsmeade, so we decided to get them for you." Cas shrugged with an excited smile, and Jorien merely nodded in no less amusement.
"That is very sweet of you, but you realize that I don't actually have any holes in my ears but the ones nature demands, yes?"
"Yet. That is part of the present." Cas replied mischievously, and both girls smiled at Robin in a way that made her realize that they were absolutely serious in what they were planning to do. It humored her more than it probably should have.
"Alright." Robin said with an easy smile. "Thank you for the lovely present. If you take joy in stabbing holes into my skin, feel free to. I don't mind."
"Wait… really?!" Cas frowned incredulously. "I thought you were going to protest! I prepared an entire speech to convince you that it was for the best!"
"I told you she would be all for it." Jorien shrugged at her friend, with a humored smile similar to the one Robin wore herself. "And you didn't write a speech, you practiced saying 'please' in as many ways as possible."
"Don't tell her that!" Cas protested with a roll of her eyes, and Robin merely had to chuckle at the two of them. They were like an old married couple sometimes, and it was hilarious and adorable at once to observe. Cas turned to Robin once again. "Anyway, we asked McGonagall for a spell to pierce your ears that wouldn't blow your head off along the way, so you don't have to worry about a thing. It's all approved and safe for use."
"I'm not worried." Robin replied easily, and really she thought the idea was rather sweet. It was such a typical teenager thing to do… something of the kind she had never spent a second thinking about before now. But to Cas and Jorien it actually seemed to be of immense importance to do this themselves, and Robin felt touched that they included her in their spark of youthful rebellion. And she wouldn't mind getting her ears pierced after all. "So… You actually asked McGonagall for a spell?"
"Who did you expect us to ask?! What Professor Snape is for you, McGonagall is for Jorien. I'm just swimming on her wave." Cas explained, then motioned for Jorien to go ahead and do the actual work. A typical Cas move, giving the speech and leaving the work for someone else. "This is probably going to hurt, so you might want to grab something."
"Don't worry, it takes a lot to hurt me these days." Robin sighed and for once, she would just have to trust them; there wasn't much that could go wrong anyway. "But try to keep my head intact, alright?"
Ten minutes later, and luckily without any accidents, Robin had two neat holes in her ears and could at last make use of the gift she'd received. Two studs of black onyx, small but just as gorgeous as she remembered them to be from the two times they had looked at them through the shopwindow in Hogsmeade. She smiled when she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the subtle new detail about her appearance. The deep black really was a sharp contrast to her ashen skin, but so was her dark hair anyway. The new piece of jewelry probably wouldn't be all too noticeable in comparison to that.
"You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl…" Cas declared dramatically, still lounging on Robin's bed even while Robin herself had gotten up. "Now we just need to get a little colour onto your face and you're ready to seize this day!"
Robin spun around to face them in an instant, glaring at the two girls in both horror and defense. There was a lot she would let them do to her, but that most definitely did not include turning her into a canary! "Cas no! Absolutely not!"
"Cas yes!"
"Jorien?" Robin pleaded with both her tone and her eyes while moving back over to her bed and to the girls. "I already let you make holes into my ears!"
"Sorry, but it's all part of our present." Jorien shrugged with a sympathetic half smile before she moved off the bed to get ready. "Just let it happen."
"What is your present if it includes piercing my ears and painting my face?!"
"We're making you pretty, dumbass! Like they do in the movies!" Cas groaned loudly and rolled off the bed as well to pad back towards her own. "You're bloody 17 now! And you still don't have any dates! We're trying to get you one."
"Not that again…" Robin sighed in return, hiding her head in her hands for a moment to regain some composure before she started getting dressed for the day of classes. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than meddling in my affairs?"
"No." Both Jorien and Cas replied at the same time, then giggled at their synchrony, and Robin finally had to realize that resistance was futile indeed. Sometimes living with thirteen-year-olds demanded a sacrifice; sometimes Robin just had to make concessions to their youth. And honestly, she couldn't deny them a thing, being as excited as they were about this now.
"Fine…" She sighed at last, mindlessly buttoning up her blouse with long practiced moments, then tugged it into her trousers. "You may paint my face if it means so much to you. But I'll get the bathroom first, now and all to myself. And I forbid you to use anything actually colourful."
"But colour is the best part! It's ALL colour!!!" Cas cried as she struggled into her tights. "Some charcoal would do wonders on your eyes!"
"Black isn't actually a colour but a value." Jorien corrected with a roll of her eyes. "So technically you can use all the black, white and grey you want."
"Precisely! Thank you, Jorien, your thought-out input is always very much appreciated." Robin smiled proudly at the girl, who in return grinned to herself upon the praise. "Now, do we have an agreement? I get the bathroom first and you will use no colours, but you may otherwise do with my hair and face as you please. Deal?"
"Deal!"
… … …
In the end, Robin had to make another compromise: in exchange for not getting any brown paste and powder onto her face, which Cas seemed to be very fond of unfortunately, she had to agree to let them use colours, dark colours, on her eyes. Thus Robin ended up sitting on her bed, sighing repeatedly, while Cas painted her face and Jorien braided her hair. Honestly, she still didn't know how or why exactly she (the older one!) had become their dress up doll, but under the pretext of 'making her look pretty for her birthday', Robin still found herself unable to deny them. Even if, on the inside, she very much felt like running.
When all three of them made their way towards the great hall for breakfast at last, Robin still felt mildly uncomfortable. The braid Jorien had forced her hair into was rather charming actually, and also very much useful to keep the wavy, bushy mess out of her face, but she wasn't so sure about the 'smokey' black, brown and green Cas had layered around her eyes. Robin felt more like a raccoon than herself… but in comparison to what some (few) of her classmates wore on a daily basis, or those women in the magazines Cas read instead of books, it still was subtle enough to tolerate for a day. Makeup may be fun for some other people, which was fine, but it most definitely wasn't for Robin and she had a rather strong interest in not repeating this masquerade. Oh well… she still would be racoon-Robin for a day now. Besides, it would break the girls' hearts if she didn't suffer through it with a smile on her face, so that's what she did as they hurried to breakfast.
"And where would we be coming from?" A taunting voice stopped all three of them just outside the great hall, and Robin had to smile while the other two looked rather panicked upon the unexpected appearance of their potions teacher. "Miss Miller, Miss Blakeley… Punctuality is a virtue, not an option. Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago. You are late."
"So are you, professor..." Robin replied with an innocent smile, which however turned into more of a smirk as soon as her eyes met his. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"
Snape approached them with long strides and his usual public facade, and the closer he came, the more Cas and Jorien hid behind Robin. She still didn't understand how they could miss the humor in his face that even now was obvious as day! All they saw was the menacing scowl he wanted them to see. That they probably wanted to see as well; expectation and prejudice were the masters of deceit in one's own mind.
"Funny." He said to Robin in a particularly flat tone that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing, then he turned to look at Jorien and Cas instead. "You two would do well to be on time from now on, even if for a mere meal. I tolerate no slacking. Now find your seats before your classmates leave nothing but their empty plates for you." With that, he motioned for them to get going, clasping his hands behind his back with that indifferent look that made Robin smile even more.
"Robin…? Are you coming?" Jorien asked carefully while Cas straight out started walking off already, gaining as much distance to Snape as possible until she disappeared out of sight. Jorien still stood between Robin and the doors, looking at her insecurely.
"You should be fine without your precious Robin for five minutes, or is that too much to ask?" Snape drawled in feigned annoyance, and Robin gave him a look before turning to Jorien.
"I'll be there in five minutes, just save me a seat and some toast, will you?" She smiled at the girl as positively as possible, who only nodded with a weak smile in return before quickly following behind Cas, out of sight.
"Did you have to scold them for something so minor?" Robin finally asked as she turned back to Snape with a small frown. "They were only late because of me, or rather because of what they did for me. Today, at least…" Really, they were usually late for all meals. No matter what day it was, and no matter if they were with Robin or without her.
"Had they been any later, all they would have found left is scrapings. It might have slipped your notice, but their classmates are more animals than civilised beings when it comes to meals." He pointed out calmly, and Robin had to sigh. He was right. "Unless you wish to show them how to use the kitchens or leave them to fend for themselves in the future, I would prefer to teach them punctuality."
"Yeah, alright, I see your point." She said with another sigh. "Nevermind. I usually prefer being early anyway."
"I am aware." He replied with a not-smirk, upon which Robin had to smile again as well. "Is that colour in your face the reason for your mutual lateness?"
"Ah, well, yes." Robin chuckled awkwardly, and before she knew her fingers nervously brushed over the rough spot of skin on her neck again. "It is, uh… it's part of their birthday present to me, I guess. They insisted on it."
For a moment Snape observed her closely, with a curious frown that made Robin feel both nervous and tingly. He leaned a little closer for a second, then back again. "Something else about you is different than it was yesterday evening, but I cannot tell what it is."
"Well, uh, I also let them pierce my ears, because they really wanted to, so it's probably that." Robin shrugged with an almost apologetic frown. Did he observe everyone that closely? Probably.
His eyebrows rose in surprise, torn between incredulity, humor and irritation. "Why would you let them do all that to you? I was under the impression that people did nice things for others on their birthdays…"
"They gave me earrings, so they also had to make sure I could wear them. And as for the colour on my face… you better don't ask what made them do that to me." She shrugged again, deeming the way he said 'nice' highly amusing. "I let them do it because it quite obviously made them happy."
"It is your birthday. People are supposed to ensure you are happy."
"Oh, I'm quite happy as it is." Robin replied with a small smirk, and a soaring heart once more. "I can manage looking like a raccoon for the day. Perhaps it'll scare Morgan off at least."
A quiet snort escaped him before he could make an effort to remain stoic, and even then he seemed to struggle not to smirk. "Raccoon certainly is not what I think of when I look at you, Robin. But you make me curious about their reason to obviously try for exactly that visual."
Now Robin had to snort as well, shaking her head to herself. Damn, she didn't want to tell him… but she also knew that she could deny him even less than the two girls. What was it about the people she cared about?! The only weak spot she knew of, and they all were entirely oblivious to it.
"If you have to know, they wanted to make me look pretty for the day." She sighed, but as soon as he even made an attempt to reply, she added, "Don't. Please. No scorn or mocking on my birthday. I know I look stupid, but I have to make concessions if I want to keep my sanity when living with them, and this was such an instance. I could have looked far worse."
"I was merely going to say that they obviously have a strange concept of beauty if they are blind enough to try to cover it up with paint." He said as if it wasn't enough to make Robin's entire body feel too hot all of a sudden. Actually, he didn't even seem to realize what exactly he had just said in the first place as he went on. "I do very well understand your need to make concessions, and your diplomacy is certainly appropriate. However you don't have to tolerate everything they do to you merely because I told you to watch over them."
"I know. That's not why I do it, not at all." She sighed, regaining control over her heartbeat by simply ignoring what he hadn't even said on purpose. "They care about me, they really do, and they only want the best for me in their own kind of way. A thirteen-year-old way, which unfortunately entails trying to draw more positive attention to me."
He frowned at that, with a lingering hint of amusement. "They paint your eyes black to draw positive attention to you? How… curious."
"I know, right?" She huffed in both humor and dread. "I for my part like black better than anything else they could've put on my fave, but it's probably the wrong colour to make other people think 'pretty' and not 'scary'. I forbid them to use bright colours though, so perhaps it is my fault that I'll scare people off all day, which I do almost every day anyway, so-..."
"Robin." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Robin took a deep breath to untangle the mess in her head that caused her to ramble.
"Yes. Sorry. Nevermind, just forget about it."
"Give me your hand." He ordered calmly an instant later, holding his own out to her with his palm facing up. Robin's heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said without question, placing her hand in his only to feel the familiar surge of electricity running up her arm and through her body.
To her surprise, he turned her hand around to rest in his with the inside facing up as well. Then, without a word, a small spark of light flickered to life inside her palm. It glowed softly in different colours that came and went so quickly it left the light white, an addition of all colours, and yet black at once in its subtraction. Robin couldn't have described it even if she'd wanted to, for her eyes and mind were too drawn to their hands to even try such a thing. The spark grew, not into a bigger light, but into a shape, a web of atoms that made up matter one by one. It grew, blossomed and rooted until at last it took on the unmistakable shape of a flower. A flower Robin had never seen before, one that was entirely black in its impossible existence, but yet consisted of all the colours in existence indeed. She couldn't take her eyes of it as it rested in her palm, all light gone but the impossible colours remained. His hand was still curled around hers, long fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist beneath the cuff of her blouse… Robin didn't know which of the two fascinated, enchanted her more. Perhaps both did, in a different way.
"Now, would you expect someone to deem this flower scary?" He asked after a few seconds, dropping his hand from hers at last.
"No…" Robin replied quietly, holding the blossom in her palm like the greatest treasure. "It's beautiful, breathtaking even. I've never seen anything like it."
"Because it stems from your mind alone, which makes it entirely unique in its existence."
"But, how… I mean…" She didn't even know what to say, leave alone what to think, neither in a positive nor in a negative way. Why had he shown this beautiful piece of magic to her? Why hadn't she known that he could do something like this in the first place?! The overwhelming urge to be closer to him overcame her when she looked up at him, and it couldn't even be lessened by his perfect neutral facade. Gods, why did he always hide when she wanted to see him the most?! "Why?"
"It is nothing but a reminder that darkness does not scare everyone." He replied neutrally, neither bothering to feign indifference nor to let his honest expression shine through. A few seconds passed in silence, and they merely looked at each other as they did so often.
"Thank you." Robin finally said, giving him the most sincere smile that had graced her lips all day. "It's a lovely gift."
"It isn't a gift." He was quick to respond though, frowning first, then looking almost humored again. "But it might counteract the racoon visual nonetheless."
Robin chuckled, closing her eyes for a second to dwell in the happiness of the moment. The overwhelming bunch of emotions tied to the impossible flower in her hand. "Well, thank you either way. I appreciate your help with my facial issues."
Finally the not-smirk was back on his face, and if Robin wasn't mistaken, so was the humor in his eyes. "What kind of… person would I be if I didn't help you even with the most obscure problems?" Again he raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled brightly enough to light up the entire hallway, until he spoke on. "That, among other things, is why I want you to be prepared at two o'clock this afternoon."
"Huh?" Robin's brows furrowed into a deep frown in an instant. "Prepared for what?"
"To play along." He smirked for real this time, quite obviously basking in her confusion. "You will see."
Then, without another word, Snape turned on his spot and disappeared down the hallway towards the dungeons before Robin could say another thing. Two seconds later, the doors to the great hall were opened by the first students already leaving breakfast, and they stormed the hallway with enough noise and chattering to break Robin free of her frozen state. Did Snape actually enjoy being that cryptic?! He probably did; insufferable idiot.
Robin sighed to herself, looking at the flower in her hand in careful consideration, then moved to tie it into her hair with a smile. Having this little piece of magic with her, his magic, would certainly make her day a lot better, even if it was prone to cause her constant tingles. Who cares… it was her birthday, she could allow herself to enjoy one single day of dwelling in her feelings. And besides, nobody had to know who had given her such an impossible flower; it wasn't a gift after all, just a point proven.
As Robin made her way into the great hall at last, hoping that at least some kind of food was left for her, she wondered what would be happening at two o'clock. She really couldn't wait to know. Then again, the anticipation and excitement of not knowing was also quite delightful. Two o'clock… that was a third into her defense against the dark arts class. And that meant whatever was going to happen, it could only be an improvement.
______________________________
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Reckless Good (3/?)
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia
Fic Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Teen+
Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku
Note: Thanks so much for the great response so far! And if you haven’t already, please check out some of the other great pieces for the TDDK Big Bang this year!
Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.
The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.
But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.
AO3: (x) Chapter One: (X) Chapter Two: (X)
Shouto is, regrettably, not unfamiliar with the process of checking into the hospital, or the protocols in the burn unit, but things seem to go surprisingly quick with a doctor at his side, explaining not only the extent of his injury but the cause. Just a few moments after they’ve arrived, Shouto is whisked away from Dr. Midoriya and Kou to have his burn cleaned and dressed. They run the usual battery of tests, poke him for blood what feels like a dozen times, and after about half a dozen reassurances to various doctors and nurses that, yes, he does know how to care for a burn at home, he’s told he might be able to go home later that night.
The room he’s put in is, admittedly, one of the nicer hospital rooms that he’s visited. It’s part of a private wing made specifically for pro-heroes to get a little peace from fans and the media while recovering, but it doesn’t make him hate it any less. He’s only been alone in the room for twenty minutes or so, but he’s already contemplating a prison break. Let Momo handle the paperwork for his unconventional discharge on her next day at the office and call it good. But the risk of being put on some extra mandatory leave is too great. His doctor and Momo have been on his case about taking care of himself properly for months now and they’d love any excuse to bench him for a few extra weeks, instead of the couple of days he’ll need for the burn to heal enough that he can cover it securely and get back to work.
There’s a short knock on the door. Shouto starts to mentally prepare himself for another argument with a doctor when the door inches open and Kou peeks in. Surprised, Shouto waves to her. Kou smiles back, turning to motion at someone behind her. A moment later the door opens the rest of the way and Kou rushes in, followed by Dr. Midoriya.
“Dr. Midoriya and I are on a secret adventure.” Kou announces in a whisper. There’s a Uravity-themed spacesuit sticker on her cheek and she looks as if she’s recovered from the evening’s events, but her clothes have been replaced by a colorful hospital gown and fuzzy bathrobe.
Dr. Midoriya hasn’t changed his clothes, but he has a white lab coat on over top.
“Oh? What is your secret adventure?” Shouto asks. He shifts to the side and makes room for Kou to climb onto the bed besides him.
“Visiting you!” She announces, happily. “It’s a secret because I’m not supposed to leave the quirk ward, but Dr. Midoriya snuck me out. This is for you. Dr. Midoriya said you were friends!” She pulls two more stickers out of a pocket in her robe and hands them to him; a music note that says Earphone Jack and a nesting doll in Creati’s costume.
“Thank you,” Shouto says genuinely, though he has no idea what he’s going to do with the stickers. But his mind is distracted by Kou’s other words. The quirk ward? Obviously there was a reason the villains had targeted the girl, but that detail had gotten buried in the chaos of everything else. Now he’s reminded of the villain’s words…something about her being the key.
He looks up but Dr. Midoriya meets his eye with a subtle shake of his head.
Shouto lets the subject drop for now, but he’s determined to stay a part of this investigation. He’ll get his answers eventually.
Turning back to Kou, he tries a hesitant smile. “Would you still like that autograph?”
Her whole being lights up. “Really?” She reaches into the pocket of her robe again only for her face to drop. “Oh. I forgot my notebook.”
Dr. Midoriya taps her on the shoulder, holding out a small, heart-shaped notepad and a glittery gel pen.
Kou gasps, taking the items from him with excited thanks. She flips through the notebook quickly looking for a blank page, and Shouto is surprised by how many signatures she’s already amassed. Satisfied with the location, she hands the notebook and pen to him. She’s practically vibrating in excitement as he writes a quick note to her, trying to make it sound a little more personal than his usual scribbled signature.
Just as Shouto finishes his note, there’s another knock on the door. Yet another doctor steps into the room, reading through something in a folder. Her long, silver hair is draped over her shoulder in a thick braid and there’s a sharp horn coming out of her forehead. She seems faintly familiar to Shouto but he can’t place why he would recognize her. At the very least he doesn’t think he’s ever had her as a doctor before. She stops in her tracks when she sees Dr. Midoriya and Kou gathered around his hospital bed.
“Izuku!” she scolds, crossing her arms over her chest.
It takes Shouto a moment to remember Izuku is Dr. Midoriya’s first name. He glances up at him.
Dr. Midoriya leans close to Kou, covering his mouth with one hand to stage whisper to her. “I think we got caught.”
Kou copies him with a quiet giggle. “Oops.”
Shouto closes her notebook carefully and slides it across the bed. Kou covertly slips it into her robe.
“What are you even doing here?” The new doctor asks, exasperated. There’s no way she didn’t hear the two of them whispering, but she seems to be ignoring it.
“Kou just wanted to thank Entropy for saving her!” Dr. Midoriya insists, apparently choosing to take no blame in their “secret adventure.”
“Dr. Aizawa has a quirk kind of like mine,” Kou tells Shouto in a hushed voice while the two doctors argue. “She and Dr. Midoriya are really nice. And funny.”
Dr. Aizawa makes it all click. The light hair and the horn. She was the same little girl Aizawa had adopted during Shouto’s first year.
“We were just leaving, Dr. Aizawa!” Kou chimes in suddenly, sliding off the bed and grabbing Dr. Midoriya’s hand. “Bye!”
Dr. Aizawa shakes her head as Dr. Midoriya is pulled out of the room by a girl a quarter his size. “This isn’t over just because you have a patient protecting you, Izuku.”
Dr. Midoriya sends a bright smile back at her just as the door closes on the two of them.
“I hope they weren’t bothering you too much,” Dr. Aizawa says as she comes over to Shouto’s bed.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m glad I got to see her again. I was worried she’d be a little more upset after everything.”
“Kou’s a strong girl. She’s going to be okay.” Dr. Aizawa says with certainty. “Anyways, I’m Aizawa Eri, I’m part of the hero staff here.”
“Aizawa, er...Eraserhead’s daughter, right?”
Dr. Aizawa smiles and it looks so shockingly like Dr. Midoriya’s, Shouto can’t help but wonder about what their connection to each other is. Especially with how casually she spoke to him. Could they be related? It seems like he would have known if his homeroom teacher had also had or adopted a son his age, wouldn’t he? “That’s right, you were one of his students! Nice to see you again.”
Shouto bows his head in acknowledgement. He knows he met the young girl Aizawa adopted a few times, but his memories of her are fuzzy at best.
Dr. Aizawa checks him over again, asking him a few questions about how he’s feeling and what’s been done already. Finally, she gets to why she’s here to see him. “I’m not sure if you would remember, but my quirk is Rewind. It’s delicate but helpful for healing, especially for many pros. If you remember about how long ago you were burned, I should be able to heal your arm so that you can get back to work without too much fuss.”
“Really?”
Dr. Aizawa nods. “I can rewind your body back to before it happened, but it will rewind your whole body so the closer to the exact time it happened the better, otherwise too many things could change. Do you have a good idea of when it happened?”
“What time is it now?”
Dr. Aizawa glances at her watch. “Almost ten.”
Shouto is briefly surprised by that information. He hadn’t realized how long he had been in the hospital already. “I left the agency after the first alerts came in around 6:30, so it was probably around 7 that I made contact with the villain. I can’t be more exact than that, unfortunately.”
“That should work alright. Would you like to be rewound, or would you prefer to let it heal naturally?”
Shouto shakes his head. Anything to speed up the process. “No, please rewind it if you can.”
She smiles. “Okay, it will be just a moment then.”
Dr. Aizawa pulls on a pair of gloves and takes his arm in her hands, gently, mindful of the injury and the loose bandages protecting it.
A moment later the horn at her temple begins to glow, Shouto has to look away as the warm light grows brighter and then, just like that, it’s over. When he looks back at the doctor, her horn has shrunk a little, losing some of the sharp edge at the top.
“Okay! You should be good to go. How does it feel?”
Shouto moves his arm a few times, relieved that there’s no pain as he moves it. Carefully he peels off the bandages. It looks as if he was never injured, not even a small scar left behind.
Dr. Aizawa looks pleased with the results. “Perfect. Unfortunately it doesn’t work on non-living things so you will have to have your costume repaired separately.”
“That’s fine,” Shouto says. He was more worried about being forced to take some sick leave than repairing his costume to begin with. “Thank you.”
Dr. Aizawa smiles again. “Of course. I’m happy to help.” She pulls a few papers out of her folder and hands them to him. “If you are ready, you can take these to the desk out front and you’ll be discharged.”
Shouto hesitates as he takes the papers from her. An hour ago he was ready to run at the first chance, but now…she was someone who might have some answers…
“Kou mentioned that the two of you had similar quirks,”
“I’m sorry. If you become a part of the investigation I’m sure you’ll find out more information, but for now I can’t disclose a patient’s information.” Dr. Aizawa says before he can even finish figuring out exactly what he wants to ask.
“Right. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I don’t blame you for being curious, not after everything that’s happened.”
Dr. Aizawa looks ready to leave, but there’s one more thing Shouto has to ask. At least while he still has a chance.
“Can I ask about Dr. Midoriya, then?”
Dr. Aizawa stops with a puzzled look. “Izuku? What about him?”
Shouto's mind goes blank. Everything doesn’t seem like a plausible response. At least not one that would get him anywhere. “Uh, I…I was just surprised to hear you call him Izuku. Are you close?”
Dr. Aizawa studies him for a long time as if she could determine whatever ulterior motives he had for asking just by staring him down. Maybe she could if even he knew what he was doing asking these questions.
“I’ve known Izuku for a long time,” she finally says. “He’s like family.”
The answer is careful, guarded. With the slightest undertone of a threat.
“…Right.” Shouto replies awkwardly. “Thank you.”
Dr. Aizawa inclines her head to him. “Have a nice night, Entropy.”
After checking out with Dr. Aizawa’s discharge papers, Shouto heads back to the agency. Sunspot practically tackles him in the lobby.
“Entropy! You’re okay! I thought you were just going to check on the kidnapped civilian, but then Ingenium told me his friend was taking you to the hospital and that I had nothing to worry about so I should just go back to the agency but I didn’t know why you were going to the hospital or what was happening,” she stutters over her words for a moment, taking a breath. “Was it okay to leave? I didn’t know what else to do but I didn’t know what hospital you went to or why. Were you injured? You don’t look hurt. Is that how you damaged your costume?”
Shouto lets her run on while he goes to his office. He knows she’ll follow. And that it’s pointless to try and get a word in until she runs out of breath.
Sunspot sinks into one of his office chairs as he goes to turn his computer on. He lifts a brow at her slumped form in the armchair.
“Are you done?”
She opens her mouth to speak again but after a moment shuts it again and nods.
“The villain who took the hostage burned me. I hadn’t realized the extent of the injury until later. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you personally so that you knew it was okay to come back, but it was fine that you came back. It wasn’t serious.” Shouto explains calmly. “You said Ingenium told you to come back?” Shouto thinks back to Dr. Midoriya texting in the ambulance and he wonders if the two know each other.
Sunspot nods again. “He came and found me and told me a friend was taking you to the hospital. I assumed he meant one of the paramedics. I didn’t know he was friends with the paramedics. Was that part of U.A. training? Getting to know first-responders closely? Or just a coincidence?”
“I think it’s just a coincidence on Ingenium’s part. Not something you’re missing out on.” Shouto says. “You did good tonight. Go home and get some rest.”
“But-”
Shouto gestures to her before she can argue. “You expended a lot of your reserve helping the rescue crews with civilians trapped under the rubble and then helping me melt the ice. It’s okay.”
Sunspot looks down at herself. The faint glow she normally gives off as a result of having excess energy saved up by her quirk is almost completely extinguished. At the late hour, she wouldn’t be able to get any more energy even if they needed to go out into the field again. Not until the sun was up again.
Sunspot pushes herself out of the chair. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help tonight.” She says with a short bow.
Shouto waves her off. “It’s okay.”
“Good night, Entropy.”
“Good night, Sunspot. Good work tonight.” Shouto says. He catches just a glimpse of her relieved smile as his office door closes quietly behind her.
Alone, Shouto settles into his desk chair, already mentally preparing for a long night. He considers going against doctor’s orders and getting some coffee but just barely resists the temptation. Caffeine might end up making him too jittery to focus and this is important. Writing up a more in-depth report of the event for the police and the agency records is the first priority of the night. But after that, Shouto has some research to do.
X
Momo finds him like that in the morning. Sometime in the night the combination of the late hour and bright computer screen got to him and he went in search of his rarely-worn glasses to take some of the stress off. His final report and the accompanying paperwork are tucked in a folder for safe keeping, but the rest of his desk is a disaster zone of scattered pages, printed news reports of the attack last night with any information he might have missed, any police reports on the matter he could get his hands on with his current clearance, his own compiled notes.
He doesn’t even realize someone else is in the office with him until Momo clears her throat, placing a paper to-go cup of tea in the middle of his desk, on top of the latest piece he’s reading.
“Shouto,” she says seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. “ When did you last take a break?”
Shouto tries to come up with an answer but his brain is fuzzy at best, street names and potential identities floating at the forefront of his consciousness. “Uh, what time is it?”
Momo sighs, rubbing at her temple with one hand. “ Go home, Shouto.”
“I just need to-"
“No.” Momo comes around the other side of his desk, pulling him up and out of his desk chair by one arm. “It’s almost eight o'clock. You need to go home and go to bed.”
Momo might have had a point, his shift was supposed to end at six that morning and he hadn’t even noticed the time, but he digs his heels in, resisting being dragged from the office to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, Momo is stronger than she looks, and has the advantage of a full-night’s sleep on him.
“Go home. Go to sleep. Don’t come back until Saturday.”
“But-”
“You were injured! You should have called me as soon as you were taken to the hospital,” Momo scolds.
“I got better.”
Momo looks at him curiously. She comes to a stop, scanning him over. Shouto’s sure he looks a mess, still half-dressed in his damaged hero-suit, the top unzipped and tied around his waist. His hair has started to escape the braid he had it in for work and he can see the loose hair floating in his peripheral vision. Not to mention how exhausted he probably looks after spending the whole night scouring the police database. But – he’s not injured.
“What do you mean you ‘got better’? You weren’t really injured?”
Shouto sighs. “No, I was. There was a doctor at the hospital with a quirk who fixed it. Aizawa’s daughter, actually.”
Momo’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I didn’t realize she became a doctor. That’s wonderful.” She pauses. “But not the point. You still should have called someone. Though I suppose I should be grateful you went to get help, at all.”
Shouto rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well…there was a doctor on the scene when I was talking to the girl who was targeted who saw my burn.”
“A doctor?”
“Uh…Dr. Midoriya.” Shouto explains. He isn’t sure if Momo will recognize the name, not entirely sure if he wants her to remember or not.
“The professor from the lecture series?” Momo asks in surprise. “What was he doing there?”
“Apparently he’s not just a professor.”
Momo studies him for a few moments, trying to figure something out. Shouto doesn’t blame her. He’d like some answers about his behavior too. He just hopes she comes to an easy conclusion, like Shouto cooperated with Dr. Midoriya because he sort-of knew him, and not anything else ridiculous. Or revealing. Or uncomfortable.
Finally, Momo shakes her head, brushing off whatever conclusions she may have come to. “I don’t care. Go home. Sleep. Eat something. I’ll finish submitting your reports to the police and I’ll make sure they know you are interested in joining the case searching for the villains who escaped last night, but other than talking to anyone who contacts you about the case, I don’t want to hear about you working again until this weekend.”
Shouto wants to keep arguing, he’s not even hurt anymore, but he knows this is the best he’s going to get from her. He is also unbelievably grateful for all the years they’ve known each other and how Momo knows exactly what he needs to hear to relax, even just a little. “Okay. Thank you.”
Momo nods. “We’ll get whoever it is, Shouto. But you don’t have to do it alone. And you can’t do it in one night. So please take care of yourself. I’ll see you on Friday for dinner.”
Momo waves to an intern, instructing them to escort Shouto to the exit. Shouto wants to protest being babysat the rest of the way to the door, but Momo pins him with a hard look before he can even open his mouth and he lets it happen. Admittedly, now that he’s not pouring over his research to keep himself moving, he can feel exhaustion settling over him.
Though he could still find the way to the damn door himself.
Shouto stumbles into his dark apartment twenty minutes later. He leaves the lights off as he comes through the entrance. The morning sun has started to fill the front room with light, and its enough for him to make his way to the bedroom without tripping over anything. His bed is cool, the sheets still ruffled from the previous morning. Shouto just barely remembers to strip off his ruined hero-suit before he drops into the bed, using his left side to warm up the sheets quicker. In a minute, he’s asleep.
When he wakes again, warm golden light pours into the room from his half-open window. He runs a hand over his face, trying to will away the strange, disorienting feeling of waking up. He reaches to his bedside table, knocking a few things to the side until he connects with his alarm clock. Pulling it close, he squints at the lit screen. It was almost five in the afternoon. Shouto tosses the offending thing away. He takes just a few moments to reorient himself before he forces himself out of bed and into the shower.
He only remembers after stepping into the spray that half of his hair is still twisted into a braid. He swears as he tears the now-wet strands free of the stubborn rubber-band, tugging at the knots there unhappily. He doesn’t mean to stay in the shower for long, but after fighting with his hair for who knows how long, the heat and relaxing pound of the spray against his shoulders eases some of the tension from his body and he wastes time under the comforting water until it starts to run cold. The temperature change doesn’t bother him much, but he figures he’s wasted enough water like that and climbs out.
After drying off a little, Shouto brushes his teeth, and that, combined with washing off the grime of the previous day, helps make him feel a little more awake. A little more human.
Shouto dresses in casual civilian clothes. He finds his phone, dead, in a pocket of his hero-suit before tossing the ruined thing in a bag to give to the support team. They’ll probably just have to make him a new one, but he feels bad throwing it away without trying to salvage it.
His charger is plugged in near the bed, so he goes to grab it so he can charge his phone in the kitchen while he makes something to eat. But in fumbling around looking for the charger, he spots his forgotten glasses in the mess of sheets and pillows on his bed. The ear piece on the right side is bent at a strange angle and one of the lenses is cracked. Shit. Well, he supposes, that’s what he gets for wearing them for the first time in months while running on fumes. He tosses the damaged glasses on his side table and leaves for the kitchen.
Finally, he switches on a few lights.
His apartment is mostly bare, plain white walls with just a few basic pieces of furniture, mostly just there to fill the empty space. The occasional dirty glass or dish that gets left behind if he’s in a rush on his way to work are the only signs of the life in the otherwise dull place. Those, and the three picture frames hanging on the wall in his living room; one of his mother and siblings, one of his graduating class with their teachers mixed in with the colorful crowd, and one of the day he and Momo started their agency. They’re the only decoration he needs. They represent all the important people in his life.
There are a few containers of leftovers in the fridge, and while it would be easier to warm something up and leave it at that, Shouto takes the time to pull out some fresh ingredients. Washing off the vegetables and prepping them while rice cooks is a simple, familiar routine and it helps ground him.
He starts a simple stir fry with chicken just as his phone finally comes back to life, chiming with a number of missed notifications. Lowering the heat slightly, Shouto lets it simmer for a minute while he checks his phone.
A few of the notifications are basic news reports he usually dismisses, though today he saves any about last night’s attack incase there’s been any updated information. There are two texts from Momo asking if he got home safe and if he ate anything. He shoots of a quick reply to her, apologizing for not letting her know right away and reassuring her he’s making food now. He takes a picture of the pan and sends it as an after thought, just in case she doesn’t believe him. There are also a few texts from Kyouka telling him to stop worrying her wife and to stop being an idiot. He responds to those with a few choice emojis and nothing else. She’ll get the message.
Finally, he looks at the emails he missed. There’s one from an Officer Uchida he doesn’t recognize, confirming he (Momo) submitted the right paper work to join the case against the villains from the night before and once the task force has been officially formed he would be contacted with more information. Relieved, Shotuo saves the contact information and sets it as a priority so he’ll be sure to get any future notifications right away. The only other missed email is from Dr. Midoriya.
Shouto goes back to checking his food, stirring it for a few minutes and adding a few more ingredients. His attention goes back to his phone a few times, but he resists going back to it. He’s not sure why, he’s been waiting for this stupid email basically since he left the professor’s office, but suddenly he’s nervous about opening it. He’s not sure what to expect once he opens the list of the professor’s topics. What if he imagined all of this and the professor still wants him to talk about his family? What if Shouto can’t answer any of his questions about how his quirk works? Is it even a good idea for him to talk publicly about how his quirk works? Couldn’t someone use that against him?
Shouto turns his phone upside down, hiding the blinking notification.
He’ll look at it after he eats.
He finishes cooking a little while later. Scooping out a generous serving of rice into a bowl and getting a plate for the stir fry he settles in the living room. He has a perfectly good table he could eat at in the kitchen, but there’s something satisfying in breaking the rules and eating on the couch. Out in the open, casually. He hasn’t lived with his father since he was a first year, but he still takes satisfaction in all the ways he can defy him and the rules he kept in that house.
Shouto turns on the local news channel to watch while he eats. Unsurprisingly, the attack from last night is still the focus of the station. There’s a reporter discussing the widespread damage through downtown on the screen. In the background, heroes and clean up crews are still working to clear the rubble. Shouto recognizes Uravity’s bright pink costume amongst all the grey and black. She’s moving two giant pieces of concrete overhead, some kind of broken metal rods coming from one look particularly dangerous.
A scrolling banner runs across the bottom of the broadcast, asking anyone who might have information about the villains to call in to a hotline, and a separate call for anyone with quirks that might help in fixing the damage done to the roads. There are also short headlines for stories meant to air later that night and a small graphic with the weather.
The camera view changes suddenly and the report comes back into view with a police officer, answering questions about the attack.
What did they know about it? Not much yet, but they don’t think it was random.
Was anyone seriously injured? Thankfully most casualties were only minor injuries and the paramedics on scene took care of most of the civilians who were hurt.
Who were the villains? No one in particular. They don’t think this is an organized group starting attacks. Not like in the past. No one needs to worry.
All safe answers that tell them basically nothing about what happened. Shouto learned more in the two minutes he spent on the radio before pursuing the villain than the news report. He changes the channel. A talk show re-run is showing an old interview with Hawks. Shouto hesitates changing the channel again.
“So, Hawks, it’s no secret that you’ve been a fan of Endeavor’s basically since your debut, and the two of you made a good team as Number 1 and 2 for a while,” the interviewer says in a fake cheerful voice. Hawks gives a stiff smile, placating but revealing nothing about how he actually feels about the subject. “What are your thoughts on the rumors brewing about a civil trial after the allegations against Endeavor from his family?”
‘Tis the season.
Shouto clicks the TV off before Hawks can reply.
Not hungry anymore, Shouto puts his plate down. He ate most of what he had taken anyways. The rest will be fine for leftovers.
Getting up from the couch, Shouto goes back to the kitchen for his phone. The same ignored email is still waiting for him with that mocking, blinking notification light. Taking a deep breath, as if preparing for a fight, he opens it.
Entropy,
I hope you are doing better after Dr. Aizawa’s visit with you at the hospital. Sorry I couldn’t see you off. Here is the list of possible topics we discussed the other day. This is just an abbreviated list of some basic things to talk about. You can obviously go into more detail about anything that might interest you or that you think might be important information for anyone with two or dual quirks to consider.
Thank you for considering being a part of the Hero Talks Series.
Thank you, also, for your help with the attacks last night and with Kou.
Midoriya
Shouto isn’t sure what to focus on first. The dropped title from the professor’s name? Midoriya thanking him for doing his job of all things?
Making the executive decision to focus on none of them for the time being, Shouto opens the attached document with the lecture topics. Dr. Midoriya’s “abbreviated list" is still two pages long.
Somehow, it’s exactly what Shouto was expecting.
#bnha#mha#tododeku#tddk#todoroki shouto#midoriya izuku#tododeku big bang 2021#fic#rita writes#6.24.21#fic: reckless good
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