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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

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Day 29: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 4)

Aaaand, part 4, the finale!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 29: You have a telepathic link with your soulmate until the two of you meet.

Content warnings: discussion of conversion therapy/after effects, PTSD, food mentions, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia, mentions of the foster system/abuse (mental, emotional, neglect, past eating disorder), minor self harm/blood, mentions of dissociating.

Word count: 5.1k

Despite Roman’s claims that being around other people would only distract him, and he didn’t want to have to walk to the library every time he had homework, Patton’s constant pleading eventually broke him down. Now, much to his roommate’s delight, they spent every night in the middle of the study floor in the library, and Roman found that he actually looked forward to it. Sometimes someone he knew would walk by, and give him a valid reason to take a short break, and having other people around somehow motivated him to work harder. He was starting to understand the appeal of the place.

Now, Patton and him were spending their afternoon there between classes, both working on their own projects and sharing a bag of popcorn twists. It was the only oil soaked snack that didn’t leave much residue on their fingers. Roman was deep in thought, struggling to remember an especially flowery Shakespeare monologue for a mock audition next week, when Patton kicked his leg under the table.

“What, Pat?” He took another moment to finish the sentence before he tore his eyes away from the book, surprised at his roommate’s barely contained excitement.

“You’ve been humming for half an hour!”

He hadn’t even noticed. He tended to do it a lot without realizing; humming along to his soulmate’s music. Ever since he’d come back almost a year ago, an occurrence he’d never had explained but held onto with fondness, Roman’s heart jumped every time his music played. It was just like old times, their old system immediately reinstated, and more than once he’d found himself singing along to the melodies in his head. Patton knew this, and could probably tell by the genre whether Roman was listening to his soulmate’s songs, or just had his own earworm.

“No, no, no, I like your humming! That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the-”

“The guy behind you has his earbuds loud enough to hear!”

Roman strained his ears, and yes, he could barely hear the music coming from behind him. He definitely hadn’t noticed before, too deep in thought to notice something so trivial. But Patton was always on high alert, never able to keep his mind on one thing at a time.

“Okay, but what does that ha-”

“You’ve been humming the same songs as he’s been listening to for half an hour, Ro! I think he’s your soulmate!”

Roman’s eyes widened and he spun around, effectively dropping his book onto the ground. Yeah, if he concentrated, he could tell that the song in his head was the same as the one just audible through the other’s earbuds.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!”

That’s all the convincing Roman needed. He jumped to his feet and rounded the other table so he was face to face with the stranger and knocked on the table a couple times. When he made eye contact, he thought he saw fear in the other’s face, but that couldn’t be right. Roman was not intimidating. The man at the table reached up to pop out one of his earbuds.

“Hello lovely, I have a question for you,” Roman purred, dropping onto his elbows on the table.

“I- I don’t-”

Apparently that counted as a meeting, because in that moment, the music in Roman’s head faded into nothingness. And he could tell it wasn’t just the music being paused. He was left with a neutral emptiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, a silence that was rare, and an innate knowledge that it had happened: their link was no longer necessary and had dissipated. Roman grinned wide, barely concealing a squeal.

“You’re my soulmate!”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the man at the table to get up and sprint out of the building at full speed.

“Stay here, Ro,” Patton was suddenly at his side, laying a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go after him. I don’t know what just happened but I don’t want it to happen again.”

Patton scooped up the other man’s things from the table and jogged out the library door.

-----

Virgil didn’t know where he was going; he hadn’t planned on running out of the library. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to run into his soulmate. And he knew that was his soulmate, and not just some weird coincidence. Because the moment they’d locked eyes, it was as if something in his mind had snapped, like a rubber band that had always been there but the pressure was so constant he didn’t notice it there until it was gone. Their bond had snapped; it was no longer necessary, because he’d met his soulmate.

He recognized the guy, just barely. They were in the same first year math class, a course often taken by upperclassmen (probably like his soulmate) because they’d put off getting a math credit until their final years. Logan had warned Virgil of that when he was choosing his first year courses, and so he was safely getting it out of the way so he could focus on his major in the coming years.

His breathing was choppy and strained as he tried to calm down his panic attack, dropping onto the ground under a large tree. He couldn’t keep running lest he collapse and draw more attention to himself, and that was far worse than anything he could imagine. Fighting the urge to scratch at his skin, he buried his head in his hoodie clad arms, fumbling with one hand to free his phone from his pocket.

It’s actually a guy, it’s a guy, he’s gay, wrong wrong wrong-

No, not wrong. It’s not wrong.

Yes it is, it’s going to hurt, you’re going to hurt, wrong wrONG WRONG!

His hands were shaking far too hard to text but he tried anyways, begging Janus to come pick him up early. Logan wouldn’t be done work for another couple hours, and usually Virgil would be fine just doing homework until his dad was ready to drive them home, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being on campus much longer.

“Hey, kiddo?”

Virgil’s head jerked up just as he clicked send, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again. It wasn’t the guy… his soulmate… but someone else he hadn’t met before, panting.

“Heya, my name’s Patton! You ran out without your stuff, so I brought it!”

Oh, he was holding his backpack, and his folder under one arm. Virgil was just trying to encourage his legs to move, to stand so he could take his things, when the stranger dropped into the grass in front of him. He flinched.

“Here ya go,” He pushed it towards him like a child trying to coax out a scared cat, “I’m so sorry me and Ro scared you. He just gets over excited sometimes. I promise he’s actually very gentle.”

Virgil stared, pulling in a halting breath.

“The guy who ran up to you, that’s Roman. I’m his roommate, by the way. I’m Patton. Did I introduce myself? Doesn’t matter. I’m a third year psychology major. Roman’s in third year too, music and theatre major.”

He should probably introduce himself too, but his hands were frozen, clamped around his phone, and he found his voice wasn’t cooperating. That didn’t deter the other dude, though.

“Here, I wrote out both of our numbers. Roman feels super bad for scaring you, so you can take your time, if you want.” He delicately placed a ripped piece of notebook paper on the backpack between them, “His is the first one. But I put mine in there too, so you can text me if you want to talk. The more friends, the better.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed, alerting him of Janus’ response.

“I’ll let you be, okay? Remember to text!” With an exuberant wave, he dashed back to the library. Virgil read Janus’ panicked message, asking what had happened, in a bit of a daze. His dad agreed to come get him, so he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

-----

Janus had asked him not to go into his room when he was so worked up, instead giving him free reign of the living room while the older restarted the dinner he’d abandoned in favor of picking his son up. He’d turned on the TV for Virgil, changing the channel to a nature documentary, given Virgil his favorite weighted blanket, and left him with strict orders to call him if he started spiraling or needed a hug.

The distraction had worked for a while, the soothing voice of the narrator almost lulling him to sleep, until his racing brain had come to the conclusion that this was the worst thing to ever happen in the history of ever and that he was going to die alone. He’d been a little hopeful that his soulmate would be a girl, to somewhat appease his trauma, but life was never that easy. A part of him had also been a little miffed about that hope, because as much as he liked to pretend, he had a preference for boys. A big preference. And his soulmate was cute.

“Everything okay, Virgil?” Janus called through the pass through window into the kitchen, taking his eyes off his food preparation to watch his son’s pacing.

“Yup!” He lied, picking and scratching at the skin of his hands out of his dad’s view. The pain settled him a little, giving him something he could control, but he knew he’d get a figurative slap on the wrist for it later. A concerned slap, not an angry one. Maybe more of ‘a cuddle on the couch and wrap the little patches of broken skin and an update with his counsellor’. So not really a slap. At all. As it usually went.

Everything was wrong. What kind of shit first impression had he given his soulmate? Getting up and running away like an actual child? And that was only part of it. He was damaged goods, a broken person, who needed more help and reassurance than any other person. How could he explain to his soulmate that he was the cause of his problems without making him feel guilty? That wasn’t the life the man had signed up for, wasn’t the soulmate burden he’d wanted. He would want someone easy, someone who wouldn’t have panic attacks when they got shocked by a door knob, who didn’t stop eating when they were scared, who pressed pause on life when he woke up in a dissociating headspace. He couldn’t say that to him. He’d lost everything, that vague musical connection to an invisible soulmate, that had given him a subtle hope. It had been a quiet illusion, a promise that he’d be fine if it were never fulfilled. Knowing there was someone out there, providing him music, had been enough. But now…

“Virgil, hold these for me.”

When had Logan gotten home? He put his hands out obediently, clenching the fingers over the ice cubes placed in each palm. The sensation startled him and sent a shiver up his spine.

“Four, seven, eight. Ready?”

He followed the breathing pattern eagerly, feeling the curls of anxiety in his stomach slowly settle into butterflies. When he was breathing normally, an overwhelming sense of dizziness almost knocked him over. Logan took his arm and led him to the couch.

The next moment, Janus was kneeling in front of him, rubbing disinfectant into his few bloody scratches, the melting water dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet.

“I should have noticed,” he murmured as he stuck a couple bandaids onto each hand, refusing to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself, Janus. I don’t think it was happening for too long,” Logan assured, running a hand down Virgil’s spine. “Did this have to do with the reason you left school early today?”

Virgil nodded.

“Are you nonverbal?”

“No,” he choked, clearing his throat, “Just dry throat.”

“I got it,” Janus leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil leaned into Logan’s side, the hand on his back traveling to wrap around his shoulder comfortingly. The last drops of the ice cube hit the carpet, and he dried his hands off on his jeans. “I met my soulmate today.”

“I see,” Logan said. For the umpteenth time, Virgil was beyond grateful that Logan was an expert at masking reactions. It made difficult conversations easier.

“It’s a guy.”

“How did that go?”

“I ran out of the library and had a panic attack. His roommate brought me my stuff and gave me their numbers. I made an idiot out of myself.”

Logan was quiet, giving Virgil a little squeeze. A water glass was pressed into his hands and Virgil downed the whole thing, passing it back to Janus, who placed it on the coffee table.

“I think… I think I’m magnifying. Maybe.” He described his thoughts that led to his spiral as quickly as possible, feeling slightly pleased when Logan agreed with his hypothesis.

“You are definitely magnifying. Good job for recognizing that, Virgil. You don’t even know him, much less what he thought of your interaction.”

“What’s our next step?” Janus spoke up, resting a hand on Virgil’s knee and rubbing it with his thumb.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you sleep on it, and message him tomorrow?”

Virgil thought about for a second before shaking his head even harder, “No. I have class with him tomorrow, and we’re getting a study guide for a test. I can not miss it. But what if he comes up to me, or wants to talk, and I embarrass myself again, and-”

His dads both hushed him at the same time and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against Logan’s side. “What do I do?”

“You could message him tonight,” Janus drawled.

“Are you crazy?” He shrieked, “No! What would I even say? ‘Hey, you freaked me out today, sorry for running like a lunatic’?!”

“Why not explain the cause for your hasty escape?” Logan piped in.

“That’s way too much to load onto him as a first conversation.”

“Not all the gory details, just a vague explanation. That’s how I started talking to Logan,” Janus stated, adjusting his position on the floor. “If he’s your soulmate, Virge, he’ll be okay to deal with this. It’ll come out eventually, and if something else happens, it will be nice for him to have some context.”

Virgil groaned. “I hate when you make sense.”

“We can help you construct an adequate message.” Logan squeezed him again, meeting Janus’ eyes with a small smile.

“Fine.” Virgil snarled, pulling out his phone and the two numbers, typing the first one into his ‘new contact’ list. “Okay, what do I say?”

-----

V: Hey, I’m Virgil. We met earlier today. In a manner of speaking.

R: OMG, hi! I’m Roman. I am SO sorry for startling you!

V: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.

R: I still feel bad DX

“He feels bad, what do I do?!”

“I would suggest explaining the reason you ran off to ease his concerns.”

“Me too. But ask first, and don’t give more details than you’re comfortable with.”

V: Can I be brutally honest for just a second?

R: Should I be nervous? Haha go ahead!

V: I was forced into conversion therapy about a year back, and I still carry a lot of the trauma with me. That’s why I ran. It was just gut instinct.

“He’s not responding, oh god, he’s going to block me, why isn’t he responding?!”

“I assume this news would take a moment to process. Focus on your breathing, Virgil. Don’t magnify.”

“You also sent it, like, ten seconds ago.”

R: Holy shit, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.

“...That’s not what I expected.”

“This is a regular reaction from a human being with even a lick of common sense, Virgil.”

“Seconded.”

V: It’s okay, I have a really great support system now.

R: That’s good. I’ve never experienced anything like that, so I can only imagine how hard that was.

R: I don’t expect you to answer if you don’t want to or don’t know, so please don’t feel pressured, but do you know what kind of soulbond we have? Is it platonic?

“Shit, fuck, who do I answer that?”

“With the truth, I’d imagine. Do you have an answer to his question?”

“Remember what I told you, kid. Your own pace.”

“Logan, if I explain it, can you put it into words? Please?”

V: I’m not averse to a possible romantic relationship in the future, but at the moment I am still learning to become comfortable with myself, as I have negative connections to that part of my identity that can become problematic if not properly worked through at my own pace.

R: Give me a couple seconds to decode that

V: My dad wrote it, he’s a prof. I have both of them helping me not freak out right now.

R: You might want to date one day, but you need to take it slow because of your trauma.

V: Uhm… yeah. I could have said it like that.

R: Is talking to me upsetting you? We can always talk another time.

V: No, I’m okay.

R: Okay, then as far as I’m concerned, we move at your pace. That’s not an issue for me at all.

“I… oh. He’s… wow.”

“I agree with your sentiment.”

“I like this boy already.”

“DAD!”

R: Your dad’s a prof?

V: One of them is. He teaches at our school, Prof Sanders. 4th year chemistry?

R: Oh shit. I’m in his class.

V: Lol he thinks he knows you

R: You have two dads?

V: Yep

R: That’s so cool. I’d really love to meet them.

V: Wow, we met today and you’re already wanting to meet my parents?

R: Heeey, I want to meet them as a FRIEND.

V: My dad says after the semester’s over, you’re free to come by

One at a time, Virgil’s dads left him on the couch with an ear to ear grin, Janus to reheat dinner and Logan following him just so he could cling to his husband's waist as he moved around the kitchen. Neither of them wanted to disturb the little bubble their son was in.

-----

In the weeks following, they’d started to sit together in the one class they shared. Virgil had begun to join him and Patton on their nightly library study sessions, and after some more gentle convincing, had given in to sitting with their whole friend group during meals at the cafeteria. He was growing more comfortable with Roman, no doubt about that.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting off an anxiety attack as he waited by the door to get picked up for their first outing alone.

He kept checking his phone and glancing out the peephole as Janus ran calming fingers through his hair. Virgil leaned into the touch instinctively, consciously slowing his breathing as Janus hummed. Logan was watching him from the entrance to the hall, leaning on the kitchen door frame. There wasn’t much he could do, but dammit if he wasn’t going to watch his son go off on the most anxiety inducing situation of all of their lives.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Janus muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve been friends with him for a while now, and he said there were no expectations. You’re in total control here.”

“What if I have a flashback, or a panic attack, or go nonverbal or something? He’s going to freak the fuck out and then all the work will be for noth-”

Logan spoke up. “You’re worried about things that may not even happen. And besides, haven’t you spoken to Roman about these things already?”

“A bit. Not in detail,” he whispered.

“I would suggest you do so, today if possible. It will make any possible situations that arise easier and less jarring to deal with.”

Virgil looked up at Janus, a pleading look in his eyes.

“He’s right, kid. The sooner you get it out of the way, the better.”

There was a knock at the door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin. To his disdain, Janus backed away until he was next to Logan, gesturing at the door with a small smile. Virgil growled out a curse and opened the door, the scowl on his face melting into a sickeningly authentic smile.

“How’s my favorite emo? Hi Mr. Sanders, hey Prof.”

“Hello.”

“Salutations.”

“Your favorite emo?” Virgil snarked, pulling on his jacket. It wasn’t cold, not in the slightest, but he’d rather have the extra layer.

“You’re the only emo I know, so the choice is easy.”

“By process of elimination, doesn’t that also imply I’m your least favorite emo too?”

“Don’t start this again, Mr. Son-of-a-professor.”

“I’ll start it if I want to!”

The door closed behind them with one final wave to his parents, and the house was quiet. Janus leaned into Logan’s waiting arms, resting his head on the other’s collar bone.

“He’s all grown up.”

“That he is, my love.”

-----

Virgil smirked as Roman set out a large cliche picnic blanket, gesturing for him to sit. He did, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees as the other began to unload the basket.

“Okay, so for sandwiches, I have turkey, peanut butter and jelly, and ham. Patton made me bring apple slices because he’s a dad, but I’m sure we can convince the ducks to eat them.”

To prove his point, a group of ducks paddled out from under a weeping willow half submerged in the creek.

“I like apples,” Virgil defended, grabbing a slice from the open container and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “How many people were you intending to feed with that much food?”

Roman pouted from behind a container of potato salad. “I had to show off my food skills, duh.”

“You made that?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows as Roman set out a tin of mini quiches and a smaller one stacked with brownies and cookies.

“The cookies were Patton’s, but he insisted I take some. And I would have bought more, but…” He tipped the basket towards Virgil, revealing the bottom absolutely filled with different canned drinks and water bottles. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.”

Virgil actually did laugh as he stretched forward to snag a Doctor Pepper, taking another apple slice as he sat back.

“Do you have a sandwich preference?” Roman asked, choosing a Sprite for himself.

“Turkey looks good.” Virgil said before his choice paralysis could come into play, breathing a sigh of relief as Roman handed one of the sandwiches to him. The less stress he added to his own life, the better.

Roman had been right to bring an assortment of food, because dammit, he was a really good chef. Virgil was nervous to try a quiche, since he’d never had them before and the texture was odd to him, but Roman assured that if he didn’t like it, he’d eat it instead. Apparently he wasn’t eeked out by germs. After a nibble though, Virgil ate almost half the tin. Who knew cold eggs could be good? Roman took the ham sandwich, and they split the PB&J. The ducks were more than pleased to be given Roman’s half of the apple slices but Virgil refused to share, since fresh fruits were still a treat after a life of preserves. The younger wasn’t a huge fan of the potato salad, so Roman eagerly finished it, seemingly more excited to move onto the desserts but not wanting to leave any leftovers.

They were just finishing up the frankly absurd amount of cookies and brownies when Roman broke their casual bickering, chasing a chocolate chip bite with a long swig of Sprite and tossing another apple to their swarm of awaiting ducks.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself, Virge.”

“What do you want to know?” Virgil replied, leaning back on his hands.

“Anything, really. Childhood, siblings, favorite color, darkest fear.”

“Quite a spectrum, there.” There was a lot he could talk about, but he felt it might be better to get the bigger things out of the way. Janus was sort of the leading expert on this kind of thing, so his advice had probably been sound. He brushed his hands together to get the crumbs off them as he spoke, “Okay, so I grew up in the foster system.”

Roman tried to hide his wince. “Ouch. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

“It’s fucked,” Virgil drawled, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, “I spent most of my time in a group home, though, because I was called ‘difficult’. No one wanted to deal with my ass.”

“Why?”

“Mmm, ran away, didn’t listen, talked back, antagonized any biological kids.”

“So like, a normal teenager?” The last apple slice was sacrificed to the feathered hoard.

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, but I came with a receipt. And I kind of liked the group home more.”

“How many kids were in the home?”

“Never more than fifteen. It was a big home. But they circulated, and I was like a housecat. Never gone for more than a month.”

“Jeez,” Roman sighed, taking a sip of his soda.

“My foster homes weren’t better.”

“Oh?” It was a subtle encouragement to keep talking, but now it was getting into territory that Virgil liked to avoid.

“One of my foster houses was really neglectful, forgot to give us food, didn’t let us do laundry, that kind of stuff. Gave me a wicked ED. I was twelve.”

Roman grimaced.

“My next one was more emotionally and mentally manipulative. I was kind of made into a babysitter for their younger bio kids. I had to get them ready for school, make them dinner, just basically be a parent. After I ran away from them, they started having trouble placing me. I was older, had a shitty record, kind of a left over. I mean, I deserved it. I was a dick.”

“You were a kid, Virgil.”

“A kid who chose to make his own life harder.” He shrugged, “That’s why I was placed into… that home. They were a last resort place for other ‘trouble kids’.”

Virgil took a deep breath and, with Janus’ words in his mind, began to explain his attempted conversion; the slip of tongue that led to the placement, the verbal abuse, food deprivation, electroshock therapy, the snuck antipsychotics, forced isolation, ending with the day the wife had called the police behind her husband’s back out of guilt and he was rescued.

Roman was quiet for a long minute after he finished talking, staring entranced at the can in his hands. The ducks had dispersed during Virgil’s story, upset at the lack of food.

“I…”

Virgil waited for him to get up and leave, to say with false apologies that he didn’t think they would work out, that the connection was wrong. Because who would want to deal with him, his stupid trauma? But the man next to him didn’t move except to breathe, and Virgil took that as an invitation to continue, his tone quieter.

“I was super out of it for a while. Honestly, I don’t remember the rescue, or like a solid month after that, except for snippets here and there. The drugs were fucky. And then my social worker, god bless her heart, found Janus and Logan. Janus was in CT too for a while when he was younger, so they took me in. Took a long time, but I opened up to them, but by then I was eighteen. They still insisted on adopting me, though, and there’s absolutely no convincing Logan once he’s made his mind up, so… they did.” He waved his hands around a little.

“Three months,” Roman blurted out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch.

“What?”

“Were you in ther-... CT for three months?”

“Two and a bit, why?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he realized the implications, and his heart froze.

“You were gone for three months. I thought you died, or… I don’t even know.” Roman looked like he was about to cry, watching Virgil imploringly. Him going MIA must have affected his soulmate more than he’d thought.

“Two months of CT, and then another one before I got a new phone. I’m…” All the guilt he’d felt at the time came rushing back, the reminder of his soulmate’s music dwindling to almost nothing and him being helpless, “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. That must have been…”

“No, Virgil, you don’t get to apologize. That was not your fault.” He reached out a hand as if to grab Virgil’s and immediately pulled back, wringing his fingers instead. “Sorry, my choice of comforting is physical. But I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Virgil choked out, running his hands through his hair.

“Can you look at me?”

He did, taking a shuddering breath. He was moments away from a panic attack and he was not looking forward to that disaster.

“You were being- quite literally- tortured for months. You were abused in ways that shouldn’t be legal, and you came out the other side stronger. Frankly, I’m amazed at your perseverance. You’re amazing.”

Simultaneously, Virgil felt a hot blush rise to his ears, and a sharp jolt run through his arms into his chest. He jerked violently, tipping over his own soda onto the grass.

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” Roman gasped, reaching over to pluck up the can before it could spill more. It was already half empty, thank goodness.

“No, I just… do that. Sometimes. From… CT. Kind of like ghost shocks, I guess.” Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole, he wondered. He hadn’t done that jerk thing in front of anyone in so long. The last time had been in front of his now-parents, and they’d quickly grown used to it. He’d grown used to their own contact very soon and his twitches had stopped after he was accustomed to it, but it had never been directed towards him, and he had a feeling he’d need time to stop his impulse reactions.

“And me calling you amazing…”

“Triggered them. It’s an exposure thing though, so I’ll just need to get used to it. Don’t blame yourself.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright white flashes of light burst into his vision. Suddenly, he was exhausted.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Roman asked, already packing up their picnic basket. Virgil nodded, his social meter drained, and all ability to be a civil person was quickly deteriorating. His therapist said that would also begin to heal after a while.

Roman was an absolute angel though, letting the silence linger so Virgil could cradle his slowly growing headache, even opening the door of his car like a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Virgil rested his head against the seat and let a tiny smile tug at his lips. It would be a long process to retrain his brain (in theory, he was okay with being in a relationship with a man, but actually doing it? Infinitely harder), but for once, he was actually looking forward to the process.

Would you guys like a collection of one shots surrounding Virgil’s gradual warming up to his new family, a decent mix of angst and fluff? I have some ideas.

Thanks for reading! Now, a taglist.

@sapphic-satan

@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

@chimneychimney

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@falsemood

@wtf-casper

@cpmansion

@killjoyjay

@fandomfan315

@anxious-darkwolf

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@winterwynd

@espepspes

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@lostspacecat

@green-call

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #sanderssides #sanderssidesau #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #ts soulmate au

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cudan2 · 3 years

Text

We’re Only Human

Spring Break Shadowing Part 4

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,040

Summary: It’s the last day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen, but you’ve come to realize a little more about how you feel towards him. Cue crushes and a little bit of chaos along the way.

A/N: I finished the semester and can actually dedicate time to writing this again because instead of being on spring break, I’m now on winter break. I also chopped this part in half because it was probably going to be over 6,000 words otherwise and that’s just a lot compared to the previous ones. Bear with me, guys. Another note - I’m thinking about posting this on Ao3 but will rewrite it because I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this in present tense lol.

Anyways, this is #8 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

You don’t know how it happened, but time is on your side and you’re running early this morning. The sun has just risen and casts a warm glow across the hospital as you make you way to the Starbucks, determined to be the one to buy Doctor Cullen his drink for once.

Meeting him here every morning has become a tradition, a tradition that involves him getting you breakfast every day you’ve shadowed him this week. The two of you would chat about various topics while walking to where ever he had to be next. Sometimes you would prod his brain with more medical-related questions, occasionally he would tell stories from his past, but regardless, his every word had you captivated.

Alright, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to finally admit that you may or may not have developed a tiny crush on Doctor Cullen. To be fair though, this is your last day shadowing him and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again anyways. You feel a pang of disappointment at the thought, but it soon disappears when Emily greets you at the counter.

“Hi, Y/N! Where’s the doctor today?”

“I was running early today, so I figured I’d grab both of our drinks.” You place your order and ask the barista what Doctor Cullen’s “usual” was.

“Oh that?” she laughs. “He gets boiling water. It’s a little weird, but I just assumed he makes tea with it.”

Boiling... water? You think back to the last several days and try to remember what Doctor Cullen even did with his drink. He definitely never made tea with it. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever taken a sip out of the cup before throwing it away.

“Then I’ll be adding a grande boiled water to my order,” you tell Emily and thank her before she moves on to the next person in line.

You wait to the side for your food and see Jaime standing there too. He’s wearing a backpack and a faded college sweatshirt thrown over his scrubs, and you’re reminded of how many years left of school you have before you can even call yourself a doctor. You wave to him, and he pulls an earbud out from his ear with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets you.

“Nothing much, just grabbing something to eat before the day starts. I’m surprised to see you here though. What happened to morning rounds?”

Jaime lets out what you can only discern as a mix between a hollowed laugh and a groan and tells you about forgetting his coffee at home. “Don’t even get me started on this morning. My car died on me, so I had to get an Uber. Lo and behold, there weren’t any Ubers around either, so ya boy eventually took not just a taxi, but a taxi and the train. By the time I got here, I realized my coffee was still on the counter at home, and so now I’m here.”

Damn, and you thought mornings were rough for you.

“Sorry to hear that! Did you get in trouble for being late?”

“I called Doctor Cullen myself and told him what was happening. He was so understanding, god bless, so I’m in the clear for now.

At the mention of the doctor, your thoughts instantly go back to blond tresses and a brilliant smile you already know you’ll miss when you leave the hospital for the last time today.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” you say a little too dreamily. Jaime gives you a knowing look and you rein it back in, hoping you haven’t exposed yourself already.

“You know, I think he’s going to miss you the most when you leave.” You don’t even get the chance to react when Jaime continues on, “Don’t get me wrong, Lily and I will definitely miss having you around, but the man really took a liking to you a lot faster than he did with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always kept us at an arm’s length before you came around. All of that personal stuff you get out of him would have taken him weeks to tell us before, and that’s if we’re lucky. He just seems more comfortable around you,” Jaime shrugs. His coffee is then called out, cutting off anything he wanted to say next. “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later!”

You take a moment to mull over what Jaime said. From your perspective, Doctor Cullen has treated you exactly the same way he does with everyone else. You don’t dare to over think what Jaime could be saying – over thinking never leads to anything good. And yet, the damage is done. The seed has been planted and now you can’t help but wonder about what made you stand out to the doctor.

Your own order is called, and you’re pulled from your thoughts with the smell of warm food.

Now armed with two beverages and a pastry bag sandwiched between your fingers, you make your way to a nearby table to wait for Doctor Cullen. Your wait is soon cut short though, as you see him walking towards you out of your peripheral vision. The clouds shift and the sun shines through the windows again. Its golden rays pass over the doctor, and for a second, you swear you could see him shimmering in the sunlight.

You squint strangely and blink a few times. Get it together, you tell yourself. Over thinking is clearly playing some weird psychological tricks on your eyes, and you still needed to be on your A-game.

“Hey you,” he flashes that familiar smile once more when reaching the table you are settled at. “You’re early today.”

“I am. It even gave me the chance to get you your water.” You hand him the cup with a smirk, having made sure to put a sleeve on it earlier because unlike Doctor Cullen, you actually have hands that hold the risk of being burnt.

“Ah, I see Emily has divulged one of my secrets with you. Thank you, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist. Seriously, water is free at Starbucks. “Think of it as a small thank you present. It’s the least I could do for the amazing surgeon that let me follow him around for the week.”

“Hmm, I think you may have meant the amazing, extremely kind, highly skilled, and not to mention, quite dashing–”

“Okay! No need to flatter yourself,” you laugh, trying your best to refrain from rolling your eyes. In all honesty, you can’t describe him any better. Add in attractive, intelligent, compassionate, way too humble sometimes, and it would be the perfect recipe to recreate another Doctor Cullen.

From there on, your daily routine at the hospital continues without a hitch. It’s a morning filled with back to back surgeries and question after question thrown at you from the doctor. There is no doubt that he is keeping you on your toes – literally and figuratively. You have to admit though, you are pretty proud of yourself for being able to answer the majority of his questions.

Your feet swing aimlessly while you spin around in a padded chair in Doctor Cullen’s office. Your laptop is open on his desk, displaying a blank document that’s meant to be your personal statement. It has been a little over an hour since he left you here to attend a mandatory meeting and you are starting to get antsy.

Aside from several stacks of files and other various papers, the desk lacks the small trinkets you would expect to see. As a matter of fact, the office itself is surprisingly void of anything personal. There aren’t any pictures of family, friends, pets, not even of a possible wife. There are no decorations on the wall either, and if it weren’t for the leather briefcase leaning against the side of the desk, you’d never believe this office belonged to him. No wonder he spends as much time as possible outside of this dismal room.

As you continue spinning in the chair, you bring up a paper fortune teller made earlier from a sticky note. You choose a color, two subsequent numbers, and flip open the flap to reveal the fortune.

Brunch date with Dr. Cullen.

The things you do to kill time. Your friends would never let you live this down if they could see you now.

Just as you’re about to go another round with the fortune teller, the door opens and Doctor Cullen walks in. The fortune teller goes flying out of your hands and onto the floor next to you as you jump in surprise and halt the spinning.

“Sorry about the wait, Y/N. I’m afraid the meeting took longer than expected,” he says, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you nearly jumping out of your skin. Not wanting to draw attention to the fortune teller on the floor, you leave it there for now and start packing up your stuff.

“I presume you found a way to entertain yourself?”

“Kind of? I tried starting my personal statement again. It’s really not coming together,” you laugh dryly. Too preoccupied with turning off your laptop and putting it away, you don’t notice that Doctor Cullen walking around to the head of the desk where you are until it’s too late.

Oh crap, the fortune teller. Of course, he just has to notice it too and picks it up with a curious expression. You look up, and he’s standing there with it in his hand.

“Did you make this?”

You leap up from the chair and snatch it out of his hand before he can examine it any closer. There is no way in hell you’re letting him open it.

“Uh, yeah... It’s just something we used to make in elementary school – nothing special!” You try to play it off as cool as possible and slip the fortune teller into the small trash can underneath his desk. “So what’s next on the schedule?”

He takes a moment before answering you. You see his eyes study the way your fingers nervously fidgets with a loose thread on your shirt. He seemingly brushes off the interaction that occurred and responds, “Pre-op. I believe this one will be much different than the others you’ve observed this week.”

“What’s different about it?” you ask. Doctor Cullen starts to leave and holds the door open for you.

“You’ll see.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

He shuts the door and you start walking towards to the surgical department when a hand abruptly pulls you back just a little too hard. You trip over your own feet in the process and in some miraculous, but also really unlucky, sadistic, cruel-of-the-universe sort of way, land in Doctor Cullen’s arms. Goosebumps form up your arms where he’s holding you, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the temperature difference or the fact that your face is only an inch away from his chest.

You are absolutely mortified to say the least. Heat begins crawling up your cheeks and if there was a witness, they would have seen you quite literally jump out of the doctor’s arms.

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Cullen! I didn’t mean to trip and fall and–”

“No, no, please, Y/N. It was of no fault of yours. I admit, I wholly underestimated the extent of my strength in that moment.” You stare at him, still dismayed at what happened, but it seems you aren’t the only one feeling like a deer in the headlights. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?” he asks, smiling meekly.

“It’s fine, these things happen. We’re only human after all, right?”

“...Right.” There’s a moment of silence that goes on for longer than you prefer, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the punchline of some inside joke. You don’t dwell on it though. There’s really only so much social embarrassment you can handle in one day. “Now, if there aren’t any more near-accidents,” he points in the opposite direction and says, “we’re headed to the children’s hospital.”

Oh.

#carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen imagine #twilight imagines #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twilight #twilight renessaince #twilight revival #twilight reboot #it's like 3:30 am #school ended but my sleep schedule still sucks #maybe it's cause I still feel the need to be productive #the next part is the one i struggled with for the last 7 months #which is why i just chopped the part in half #ugh i jsut have to get through the next part and ill be in the home stretch #the quality of my writing really declines when i have to write actual plot LMAO #doctor daddy cullen #twilight renaissance

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astro-rain · 4 years

Text

delicate; b.barnes

chapter two - “bucky”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.4k

summary: after arriving in wakanda, (Y/N) figures out who and what she’s there for (with the help of our fav young genius)

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my photo

"Christ, you're astonishingly intelligent. How could you possibly need my help?" (Y/N) asked. "I'm kind of a joke compared to your big brain."

As the young Wakandan princess showed (Y/N) around her extremely impressive laboratory, she thought back to her conversation with Sharon.

***

"I'm needed? In Wakanda?" she said, dumbfounded. "What am I gonna do? Help them hunt for food?"

"Well, that's the thing," Sharon began. "Wakanda isn't what you think it is. The third world country we all thought we knew is just a facade to protect the true nature of Wakanda."

(Y/N) stared, not following. Sharon continued.

"It's actually a highly advanced, technologically progressive metropolis. They have some of the smartest people and most exceptional innovations in the world. It was all a cover up."

She nodded, finally understanding, "Well, I can't say that I blame them for hiding from the world. I can only imagine what would happen, especially from the hands of America."

Sharon chuckled. "Steve settled things with T'Challa, the former prince, and the royal family are allowing him and Barnes to take refuge there until further notice. Evidently, they have the tech and the minds to undo whatever damage Hydra did to Barnes."

***

"Well, I could do this by myself, but my focus is predominantly on electromagnetism, quantum mechanics, and high-energy particle physics," the young princess explained, gesturing to various pieces of state-of-the-art tech around her lab. "I'm not really an expert in social sciences just yet; that would be you. I was told you were exceptional. Oh, and Captain Rogers needed someone he could trust on short notice. So, here you are, on account of a Sharon Carter, right?"

"Absolutely correct... your highness?" (Y/N) replied, though it was more of a question than anything else.

The princess laughed a genuine laugh, "Oh, no need for formalities! We're colleagues now and we're going to be working collaboratively. Please, call me Shuri."

"Got it," she nodded, smiling and slightly embarrassed. "...so, not to sound like more of an idiot than I probably already seem, but what exactly is this project we're working on? No one really thought it would be a good idea to tell me before I took the plane ride to another continent- which is lovely by the way."

"Well," Shuri started, gesturing her to follow along as they walked through the rest of the lab, "you know that man who allegedly bombed the UN conference in Vienna, consequently killing my father and forcing my brother to assume his place as king?"

(Y/N) gulped. "Yes."

"Yeah, he's here. He's the project. But don't worry! He didn't actually set off the bomb; he was framed."

Oh. Okay. What was she supposed to say to that? (Y/N) couldn't figure out an answer so she continued to nod and try not to look too idiotic.

"As you already know, he has suffered greatly. He's not in control of his own mind. Our job is to dismantle whatever programming Hydra drilled into his poor brain through years of abuse and torture."

(Y/N) remembered the horrible things she read in his file. The trauma, the cruelty, the destruction of humanity. Suddenly, she was no longer at a loss of words... or thoughts. She was going to help an innocent man. Well, the truly innocent man who was locked inside Hydra's homemade killer.

What was done to him was a monstrosity; it was, up to date, the worst thing she had ever seen done to a human being. And, if she can do anything to help take away or relieve some of that pain, she was happy to play her part. A good way to do that was probably to zone back in to what Shuri was saying.

"...and there's two main components to this. Number one is his physical pain. Meaning the biochemicals and neurons in his brain in addition to his arm and the nerve endings and anything else of his that they broke: the stuff I will take care of. Number two is his mental pain. Meaning his psyche, trauma, behavior, emotions, and all that other fun psychology stuff that you will take care of."

"So, I'm basically operating as a therapist?"

"Basically. Among other things."

(Y/N) stared at the floor in front of her, letting it all sink in. She was going to therapize the Winter Soldier. Whatever that was going to entail was a mystery to her. He was nothing she'd ever heard of. Of course she was extraordinary at her job, but this was new territory for her.

Unaware of what else to say, (Y/N) blurted out, "So... you said he's here..."

"Yes. Follow me, you can come meet him."

Maybe that wasn't the best thing to blurt. He is innocent, but that doesn't stop him from scaring her a bit... even though she's never actually met him in the person.

She followed behind as Shuri led her out of the lab and through a multitude of different rooms and hallways. She was nervous, indeed. She was in a place she'd never been with people she'd never met about to see a person with a caliber she'd of never imagined.

(Y/N) wondered what he'd be like. Would she be meeting who he was before Hydra sunk their claws into him? Or would she be meeting some hybrid of the man he used to be and the pain he's been forced to endure? She wasn't sure what to expect. But she didn't have time to imagine another scenario when Shuri opened a door and they were greeted by a freezing cold breeze.

"Don't mind the cold. It's supposed to be like that," Shuri said as she held the door open and walked inside.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around her midsection before her mouth dropped. In the middle of the room stood a giant glass chamber holding no other than James Barnes inside. It looked so strange to her, surreal even. He was frozen? Suspended animation. She didn't think humans were supposed to look like that. He almost looked dead. The slightest shiver ran down her spine.

"He's in a state of cryogenic sleep," Shuri explained. "Completely alive, but the chamber reduces his metabolism to its lowest possible level, allowing his body to be preserved for long periods of time."

"That's... slightly horrifying. I've heard of cryogenics, but I've never seen it first hand. How does it even work?" (Y/N) inquired as she ran her hand lightly across the glass.

It's so cold. She couldn't imagine being in there.

"In cryogenic sleep, an antifreeze agent is added, replacing the water in his cells. Then, the tissue is cooled to -220 degrees Fahrenheit, but instead of crystallizing into ice, the chemicals clump together and become solid. They're actually molecularly similar to glass. This new glass form prevents the cells from bursting and, theoretically, this could hold him in stasis forever."*

"Wow," she mused, still awestruck, staring at the chamber.

"Something wrong?"

"No, I'm good," (Y/N) chuckled, "it's just that advanced science is just shocking sometimes. And when you said I was going to meet him, I didn't think you meant like this."

Shuri smiled. "Oh, I didn't."

And with that, all it took was the push of a button and the chamber came out of dormancy. It was whirring and hissing, and (Y/N) could feel the temperature slowly start to rise. She glanced up and witnessed what looked like a miracle as color began to bloom onto his previously blanched features. He too was coming out of dormancy; he was coming alive.

(Y/N) almost startled when his eyes opened, but remained completely still when the chamber door opened. James blinked a couple times, taking in his surroundings. He looked anxious; she could understand why. She tried not to meet his eyes.

I'll let Shuri take the lead on this one, she thought.

As if on queue, Shuri gave him a polite smile and started to undo his restraints.

"Hello Sergeant Barnes. Welcome back! My name is Shuri, T'Challa's younger and much smarter sister. This," she gestured to (Y/N), "is Dr. (Y/L/N). Together, we'll be conducting your treatment plan."

He stepped out of the chamber, shaking Shuri's hand. He had almost a foot over her but towered over both of them regardless. Then, he turned to (Y/N). She wasn't sure what to think.

"It's nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes," she said with a curt smile, as she shook his hand. Cold. She pretended not to notice.

He looked down at her and for a moment she thought he looked docile. Benevolent and soft.

His eyes are very blue.

"Please," he said, a kindhearted gentleness coating his voice, "call me Bucky."

- - -

* = info on cryogenics from inverse.com

#bucky reader insert #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky imagine #bucky headcanon #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #marvel

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Yggdrasil

"Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Toyama sat in his office behind a cup of tea across from his patient Tigre.

Tigre had been absent for two weeks performing entry exercises for Battlefield Training level 1. He'd performed exceptionally well, surpassing the students in his troop and complying dutifully with the strict schedule and regiment. At this point, not only was he physically able, but now he had experience in shooting, keeping watch, and setting up camp. He looked more tan, a bit stronger, more energetic. He kept decorum, but every time he saw him, he couldn't help but feel happy at his success.

Tigre had two more weeks of academic pursuits before returning to Battlefield Training for the next round. Toyama had been seeing him for his weekly counseling and needed to catch up with his mental health after missing a session.

Tigre took a deep breath, turning the delicate tea cup in his scarred hands. "I've been thinking a lot about where I come from. I didn't really care before. But people ask me questions like: where am I from? Who is my family? Where did I go to school? But all I remember is the cage. I should have memories growing up. Like going to school. I didn't learn to read and write in the cage. Who taught me? I don't know my real name. My real name is not Tigre. That's what they called me."

Toyama listened carefully. "Do you think these questions are important?"

Tigre was thoughtful for a moment. "No. That's not it. They're not important. I just don't want to tell people I lived in a basement all my life. I don't want to say that I don't know my real name. I don't know where my parents are…"

"But this is the truth." Toyama said gently. "How do you feel when they ask you these questions?"

Tigre thought about this and Toyama pulled a tissue from the box next to him and offered it to him.

"Sad…" Tigre said, wiping his face.

"What do you feel sad about?" Toyama asked.

"Just not knowing. I don't have anything to say… they ask who your parents are, you say I don't know and they… they look at me like they're sorry."

"That makes you feel sad?" Toyama asks. "Or are you sad before then?"

"Um…" Tigre tries to think. "Starting out, I never thought about my past. But now I'm afraid that every time I meet someone, they will ask questions like that. I'll already start getting sad before they ask that."

"So you feel bad in anticipation…"

"Yes. That's it."

Toyama nodded and made a note. "So when you meet someone, you feel sad because you feel like you can't open up to them about your amnesia. Then they ask about it. You tell them. They feel sorry, and then you feel sadder. Because they're sad."

"That's the gist of it."

"How do you think that is affecting your social life?"

"Probably not good. It's not easy to meet new people. I don't want to talk about myself."

"Understandable." Toyama was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, and, as though to signal a change of subject, he switched legs.

"Have you tried to remember?"

"Yes." Tigre licked his lips. "I remember hearing a big crash and seeing Chu Zihang walk out. I called him brother. Before that, I was lying down in the chains. I…"

Toyama kept quiet, making notes.

"I remember… fighting. Killing something or someone. Their faces were distorted. But I don't remember when that was. I remember people calling me Tigre, but they are just shadows in my mind."

"You don't remember doing anything else? Only rescue, fighting, lying down… and the shadows?"

Tigre sat still. He tried to focus. He was recalling images from his captivity. But he couldn't understand what order they went in. They called him Tigre… when? He killed that creature… but when? How long was he stuck down there? Which image came first? His memory was like two mirrors facing each other creating an endless array of identical reflection.

"What about before your confinement? Do you remember anything?" Toyama asked.

Tigre closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to think of a memory of his childhood. He tried to remember life under a bright sun and a blue sky. The feel of the warmth of the day on his skin…. and was struck with a sudden wave of nausea so intense that the tea he just drank bubbled into his mouth like a geyser. He rushed to the trash bin, knocking over his chair, and barely made it in time.

Toyama watched him gagging helplessly and stood up. "Do you need help?"

Tigre was shaking and struggling to catch his breath. Toyama knelt next to him. "It's okay. Just relax." He handed him a tissue to help him wipe his face. "Did anything come to mind?"

"No… nothing."

Toyama pulled Tigre's hair back to keep it from going into the vomit. "It's not a failure. We will find a way to recover your memories. Every attempt is progress. I'd like to propose something… I'd like to get a scan of your brain."

Tigre gave him a fearful look. "Will it hurt?"

"No. But I think we can both agree that just the act of remembering something forgotten shouldn't have this reaction right? This reaction is more physical than mental."

A few hours later, Tigre is back in the clinic, in the lab on the fourth floor where they had the MRI machine. Tigre was lying on his back listening quietly to music and staying as still as he could.

Toyama stood in the room behind the imaging machine and the technician operating it sighed in irritation. "None of the images are clear."

"Is he moving around?"

"No that's not it. I'm getting interference in the magnetic resonance. Does he have any metal on him? Or any implants?" The technician asked.

"Implants…" Toyama whispered. Could something have been implanted in Tigre? Something blocking his memories? "Can you see any implants?"

"I can't see anything with these terrible images! I have to stop the test." He clicked a few times on the program to abort the test. "Oh come on… what is happening…"

"What's wrong?"

"The computer screen just froze!" In the next second, the computer switched off and all the lights went out.

Red emergency lights from a generator came on. "Tigre… stay where you are, I think… ah the communication system isn't working either." The tech said.. "I'll go get him."

From the technician booth, there was a window. So Toyama saw the technician enter the room. He had barely gotten three steps in when the man abruptly collapsed to the floor and began convulsing.

Toyama started to hurry down but stopped. If he entered the room would he start convulsions as well? Tigre was not moving. Was he dead?!

Power suddenly returned to the room and the man stopped his seizures and lay still. Norma's voice suddenly came over the loudspeakers. "A very strong EMP was detected in this building. Agents are in route to investigate. I am assessing the damage. "

EMP? Electromagnetic pulse? The MRI machine was smoking!

Toyama rushed down to help the technician, kneeling down close. His eyes were rolled back white and he was breathing bloody foam.

Tigre had slid out of the MRI machine and looked stunned at the scene. "What happened?"

"You're alive! Thank God. Here, call for help."

Toyama tossed him his phone. He expected Tigre to catch it but it fell and cracked against the tile floor. Tigre just stared at him. "Who are you?"

Toyama felt the blood rush from his face.

Tigre looked at him in confusion. "Where am I? What is this place."

Toyama stood up. "No…" His voice trembled. He stepped towards Tigre in a daze. "No!"

Tigre backed away until he could back away no further. "Stay away!"

Toyama's eyes suddenly blazed yellow. While it was true that students could not use Yanling on campus, due to the nature of his work, Toyama would need special access to his Yanling at all times. A top secret method of defeating the Alchemy matrix that suppressed Yanling was granted him. So even though no one on Campus could use theirs, he could use his.

He stared into the wide and frightened eyes of Tigre and dove into memories that were already fading, burning to ashes like trees in a wildfire! Memories of them together in the hospital. Memories of his first day of school.

Burning fury burst from Toyama and he opposed the force operating on Tigre’s mind in a single burst, roaring like an angry lion and rushing in the fight. Such a reaction may have struck many as unexpected. Toyama was a gentle soul. He was a professor, a psychologist and a priest, but he was also a member of the Secret Party and a Hybrid. The trail of blood he left was invisible, the battles were fought on the stage of the mind. He’d erased family, friends, lovers, precious moments. So long as they were contaminated by memories of dragonkind, those thoughts were his to slaughter.

For the first time, this peerless psychological warrior was being tasked, not to destroy but to protect. He planted himself in the middle of this mental obliteration and started to rebuild it. Tigre didn’t understand how much Toyama knew him. He’d walked these neural pathways more ways than he could count, like a woodsmen in a forest, he knew the trails of the memories he created. He rebuilt them.

“Who are you?” He demanded this mental fire. “What are you?”

He received no answer, only a corresponding increase of force, like a bull locking horns with him. As their strength collided, Toyama received a vision that he’d never received so far. This was alien, not native to Tigre’s mind. An outsider thought.

A great tree, shrouded in mist, grew out of the desert. It was so tall that it pierced the cloud cover. Toyama watched in wonder as the white gleaming speck of a 777 passenger plane looked like a sparrow flying through its branches. At the base of the tree was a black dragon, but the dragon was dead. One of the tree’s roots ran through its eye socket. “Yggdrasil?”

Toyama could feel his own hands squeezing Tigre's arms tight while the other man struggled. Brainwashing was supposed to be a painless process. You were not supposed to be able to perceive the changes. Tigre didn't realize he was forgetting everyone around him a few moments ago. He had just failed to recognizeToyama. But now that he was both forgetting and having memories restored at once, he was trying to pull away and crying in fear, unable to control his own thoughts as two powerful entities struggled for custody of his mind.

Toyama held on to him. He regretted the trauma he was no doubt inflicting. Even though he was not religious, he worked in the Church on campus as a junior priest and knew how to pray. For the first time he actually did. He was up against something powerful, otherworldly. Even if Tigre would never trust him again, he prayed that he could at least remember him! The force that was erasing his memories was relentless, but it wasn't smart. It didn't try to figure Toyama out. It just erased memories in the same pattern once he restored them. Toyama could learn that pattern.

So long as Toyama safeguarded those memories, the attacker couldn't advance. The memory of meeting Chu Zihang the first time, waking up the first time in the hospital, the 3E exam -- these were the main points of interest to this mysterious entity. Toyama stood as a bulwark against them, and instead attacked this tree. Where is it?

Tigre's mind suddenly shut off and he slumped against him. Toyama's mind was kicked abruptly back into his body. Toyama felt unbearably hot and thirsty. Sweat dripped onto the linoleum floor.

Toyama reached up and felt Tigre's pulse through his neck. Though he was pale and limp, Tigre was still alive.

If there was really something implanted in his head, there should be a mark, a scar. Toyama carefully started running his hands over Tigre's scalp, looking for any deformity. His fingers ran over a small series of ridged right on top of his head.

Toyama tilted Tigre's face toward him to see and pulled his hair back with his thumb and forefinger. A scar, in the shape of an Alchemy rune? It was a perfect circle in a circle. Like an eye!

At this moment, members from the Executive board rushed in and surrounded him. “I’m alright! The situation is under control, but I have an urgent message for the school board! This is a serious situation!”

Toyama made sure that Tigre was moved to the 5th floor. “I’m sorry. But you have to be returned to quarantine. I don’t know if you can hear me...” Toyama whispered to the unconscious Tigre.

He raced back downstairs towards the library. He climbed to the second floor and burst into the door. The library was like a beehive that had been struck. It was full of workers trying to reconnect with everything that had been knocked offline by the EMP blast. Schneider and Guderian were watching. Who know where Manstein was.

“I need a word.”

Schneider looked at him in surprise. His shirt was wrinkled, and transparent against his chest and his hair stuck to his forehead.

“Guderian get our systems back to normal.” Schneider strode away and Toyama didn’t wait, immediately leaving the room to a side office.

“Here, it’s not much but at least wipe your face off.” Schneider offered him a tissue box.

“I’ve finally figured Tigre out. Tigre is not a dragon. He’s a hybrid. But there is something in him that is dragonkin. That is what is erasing his memories. I suspected something physically wrong with him for a long time. So I had an MRI scan done of his head. But when the scan began, a huge EMP blast exploded on campus! When I approached him, he acted like he didn’t know me. So I used my Yanling to peer in his mind and something else was there. Another thought, thoughts that weren’t his. These things were pruning his memories.”

“I dove into the mind of that thing and I saw a memory of a tree. A great tree in the fog. So big that a plane flying by looked like a bit of office paper in the wind. And at the roots of the tree I saw a dragon but it was dead.” He flipped over a piece of paper on a desk in the office and pulled the cap of a pen and held it in his mouth while he drew. I thought, Yggdrasil, but it’s not Yggdrasil. I believe this is a dragonborn thing.”

“Is it controlling him?”

“It’s erasing his memories for a purpose. It was after all memories of dragonkind in his brain. It didn’t seem… conscious. I didn’t adapt strategies, it kept going after the memories… like a zombie, mindlessly trying to eat his brain.” He finished his drawing and leaned on the desk. “I know that dragons can sense the thoughts of humans and can either attack or evade. So this sort of behavior isn’t unheard of. A dragon can manipulate the thoughts of humans. After all.. I can. I defended his mind as best I could. But as for now I’ve returned him to the quarantine area of the clinic to make sure he’s safe.”

Schneider rumbled. “An unfortunate turn of events.”

“I feel bad for him and for Chu Zihang. I know rescuing Tigre meant a lot to him.”

Schneider froze.

Toyama chuckled. “I know that boy too Schneider. He’s a kind person. He was happy to save Tigre and followed his progress because he cared. You kept Tigre alive for his benefit right?”

Schneider sighed softly.

“But we have to … face reality.” Toyama hung his head, leaning on the desk. “If that thing is in his head and it can’t be removed… it will likely kill him at some point. Even if we’re not forced to kill him.”

Schneider walked over and placed one hand on his shoulder.

#Dragon Raja

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sevenincubistolemyheart · 4 years

Text

Yoongi’s Oneshot

Au: Mafia

Tag List: @xsunnyhoseokx @wilhelminalucinda @amiraclerenee @inutiledediscuter

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: I will carefully note the rating has once again turned to M but I’ll be leaving this as the only warning(unless otherwise explicitly asked) given the heavy spoilers saying all the potential triggers could provide. The only explicit triggers I’ll give in advance is involuntary drugging, grieving, and psychological trauma. Everything will also be under the cut. Authors Note at the end!!

Pairing: BTS x Reader/OT7 x reader

Genre: Drama, Crime, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Length: 4k+

You murmured softly in your sleep, tossing and turning as you gradually grew more and more panicked. It’s a miracle you hadn’t had any night terrors after what happened. Your imagination was always quite vivid after all so you supposed you should count your blessings you’d even lasted this long. In either case, all you could see when your eyes finally shot open was white. At first you assumed you were merely adjusting to a bright light...but then it didn’t stop. Including when you moved. And a look down let you know that you were also in the silk white pajamas Yoongi had gifted you last night. All that surrounded you was pure white and you realized abruptly you clearly weren’t dreaming any longer and also had been sleeping on the floor. A quick search of the room ensued, as your eyes flicked around, searching for distinct cameras or a way out and yet...you found nothing. You refused to let yourself panic, putting together that Yoongi must have gifted you these so you’d match with the room.

You weren’t in enemy captivity, but that didn’t mean you weren’t on edge. Taehyung’s little stunt had reminded you that these people, though often kind to you, had much more sadistic sides to themselves than you typically got to see. You vaguely recalled looking up sensory deprivation as a potential topic for a psychology project, but opted to study dream analysis instead. Lot of good that was gonna do you. You didn’t need any symbolism to know you were merely coping with your grief in your sleep since you still refused to actively show it around the others but now...that info on sensory deprivation sure would’ve been helpful. You tried to wrack your brain for any memories of what you’d looked up, but only vaguely recalled the need to keep your mind active, though you couldn’t fully remember how. Wasn’t that only for long periods of time?

Where was Yoongi? Why was he putting you through this? You felt your breathing starting to increase, noticed you were beginning to grow paranoid and took several deep breaths, counting to 4 as you inhaled, holding for 8 and then releasing for another 4. It was a breathing technique you recalled your chorus teacher telling you to do back in high school. How was she doing?

Your breathing finally evened out but you found your eyes were glazed over. You shook off your little stupor, tried to get back on topic. Why were you thinking about your chorus teacher right now? You had more important things to be pondering! Like what Yoongi wanted to see from you so he’d let you out.

You began to hum absentmindedly. Closing your eyes as you welcomed the now unfamiliar blackness. You aren’t sure for how long they remained so but when next they opened you felt like it was now nighttime. How long had Yoongi left you here for? Was this some kind of punishment? Did you do something wrong? Nothing came to mind. Maybe they just finally realized you were a liability. That you’d never be as good a Nurse as your Mother.

It was then that you saw the door opening inwards and after spotting Yoongi, and blinking several times to adjust to the new colors, you literally rushed him, making him scramble to release the door and hold onto you as you shook violently for reasons you didn’t understand. Tears came spilling from your eyes faster than you could stop them and you barely managed to ask him through your sobs.

“W-Why did you leave me there for so long!? Did I do something wrong? Please, just tell me and I’ll fix it!! N-Never do that again!”

Yoongi looked taken aback as he forced you off him far enough away to get a good look at you and his expression morphed from one of bewilderment and shock to analysis. He knelt down, cupping your hands in his cheeks as he saw you frantically looking around at everything, as though scared you’d never see it again. You were acting like some kind of crack addict going through withdrawals. The sound of footsteps made you whip your head around but he refused to let you look, resolutely keeping your head still.

“Focus on me and stop moving. How long do you think you were in there?”

His voice was a quiet mumble.

“18 hours, at the least. Maybe even 24. It’s nighttime now isn’t it? Please I want to go see everyone!”

“Y/N. You were only in there for 8 hours. You shouldn’t be experiencing this so intensely. You didn’t hear or see anything else in there did you? I need you to be completely honest with me.”

You shook your head quickly, even as you bounced on your heels.

“Mm-mm! No, I-”

Before you could even finish your denial he was starting to pull up the short sleeves of your pajamas up past your shoulders and then snarling at you.

“What the fuck did you do to yourself you idiot!?”

You looked at him in genuine confusion and he growled lowly before brushing his thumb over your bicep causing you to hiss at the sharp rush of pain that greeted you.

“Ow, Yoongi what the Hell!?”

You looked down and realized you'd dug your nails into your arms, holding yourself during that brief, fitful sleep you'd had so tightly you'd drawn blood and caused wounds. On top of that you'd apparently continued scratching once you'd awoken, irritating the wounds even further.

"Wow that's all it took to break her? Pathetic."

Jungkook's snort made you squirm in Yoongi's grasp to look at him and this time, he let you as he was occupied examining your wounds.

Yoongi released you with a simple nod to Jungkook before walking off.

"Watch her."

Once you were out of his grip you hopped over to the built boy, clinging to his arm even as he jolted in surprise that quickly turned to disgust even as a surprised blush stained his cheeks pink.

"Th-The Hell!? Get off me you freak!"

He began slowly working you off his body but you pouted and resolutely stayed on him like glue.

"Nuh-uh!! Never thought I'd miss you being an ass but here we are! Suck it up!"

You were so focused on trying to stay attached to Jungkook you didn't hear the footsteps this time and squealed as you were tugged off by Yoongi and into his chest face first who sighed.

"...Calm down. You're not going back in ever again. I promise. You're gonna be okay. Focus on my heartbeat and count the beats okay? Try to match your breathing to it."

"The fuck did you do to make her all clingy and weird? You better fix her! If she's fucked in the head for when I train her-"

"Quiet down. If you don't want to overwhelm her and make things worse I'd suggest keeping your mouth shut."

Just the two bickering was making you start to get squirmy again and Yoongi tightened his grip slightly in response while Jungkook snapped his mouth shut. Your shaking gradually started to subside to the occasional shiver as you did as Yoongi instructed, slowly being soothed by his consistent heart rate. Your breathing also started to even out, and you found yourself surprised at how slow his heartbeat was.

He had seemed so panicked but moments earlier after all. He must have real control.

Noticing you slightly beginning to calm, Yoongi gradually released his grip on you to look you in the eyes.

“...Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take you over to the infirmary where I’ll hand you off to Hoseok. You won’t be seeing anyone but 2 people at once for at least today and tomorrow. I’m not risking damaging your psyche further by overstimulating you right after depriving you.”

His voice was as monotone as ever but you felt the way his hand trembled slightly as he grabbed your wrist before he abruptly released you, tersely demanding you follow him instead.

You did so, albeit slowly as you risked a glance around the room for Jungkook, only mildly surprised when you found he’d slipped out silently.

You were more surprised he’d left quietly more than the fact that he’d abandoned you in such a state. He’d probably gone to tell Taehyung what awful shape you were in so they could laugh about how weak you were.

Wonderful.

You almost wished your lucidity wasn’t returning.

Gods, the way you’d clung to him like a child was so embarrassing. You could only pray given his, what you remembered to be, flustered reaction that he’d never mention it again. At least Yoongi mercifully didn’t seem focused on your display though it was mainly because he was probably more distressed by the reaction from a psychological perspective than anything as kind.

Yoongi opened the door to the infirmary for you and let you enter first before following suit. You spotted Hoseok at the large desk overlooking a window to the greenery you’d been lost in not too long ago with Taehyung, sorting different bags of powder. He looked up at your arrival and frowned as he scanned you up and down before his eyes locked on your injured shoulders and then jumped to Yoongi as he rose to his feet and made his way over.

“The Hell did you do? I thought she was only going in the sensory deprivation room for 8 hours, how did she manage to hurt herself?”

Yoongi sighed heavily, watching as you hugged Hoseok who recipricorated gently before he led you over to the infirmary bed nearest to you and setting you down gently.

“She used her nails; it happened when she was sleeping apparently. I watched the whole time, but when she started sleeping I left to eat...I should’ve picked up on the signs and never put her in this situation. I thought it would be a gentle enough way to start building her mental tolerance to torture should the others ever try such a thing. You know EXO’s policy about women.”

Hoseok grunted in acknowledgment of his words as he pulled over the metal cart with basic medical supplies he hadn't gotten around to fully cleaning since his own training session two days ago.

“Blaming yourself isn’t going to make her better so knock off the self loathing bullshit going on in your head right now and get me a wet rag and a bucket with soap and water. I need to clean the wounds before they become infected. You may have caused this situation but you can also fix it so move your ass.”

His voice was crisp, cool and nothing like his typically cheerful self making you blink at him in delirious confusion, your alertness seemed to be fading in and out, despite your best efforts to hang onto it. Everything just seemed so overwhelming, and almost new to you.

Yoongi listened without quarrel however and nodded before he left the room, to do what Hoseok had ordered you had to guess.

“Alright lovey I need you to keep your eyes on mine okay? I know it’s hard to focus right now but I want to check some things.”

His voice had changed tones again, now sweet and gentle as you knew him. You liked this version better, you decided as your eyes flicked up to meet his.

His smile widened a bit, making his eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement.

“I happen to prefer this side to me too. Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to let it out very often in my line of work. It’s nice for it to be genuine for once. Now; I want you to talk to me about the day you found out your Mother died. Do you think you can do that for me sweetie?”

You frowned and blearily shook your head in denial, not registering the fact that he was rubbing a wet cloth on the inside of your arm about a third of the way up, nor the fact that the area went numb and tingly. Your whole body felt numb and tingly honestly; what was one more area?

“I don’t wanna talk about that.”

Your voice had grown small, intrusive images already making themselves known inside your mind as your frown deepened, and his smile only widened. Thanks to your gaze being locked on his you noticed when his eyes flicked to the door suddenly, making you look too in anticipation, expecting Yoongi to perhaps be entering or for someone to be there only to not notice the needle entering your arm on the other side.

You turned back to him with a pout of confusion but swayed suddenly as the world spun. You would’ve surely fallen had you not been lying down securely in the bed. Why did you feel like you were floating? Was this normal? A part of the side effects of your brief time in the sensory deprivation chamber?

“How are you feeling now? Ready to tell me about that night?”

You beamed, suddenly so exhilarated despite the world spinning that you felt giddy; your mind barely comprehending the words Hoseok hit you with or their meaning, just starting to speak without conscious awareness.

“Mmhmm sure! So, it’s pretty funny actually! I was just coming home from grocery shopping, and I stopped at the craft store before heading home to get Mom some of those adult coloring books since I could tell how anxious she was lately. We used to love doing that together you know? And!”

You giggled, grinning even at the painful nature of your story. If only it was just a story.

“She’d promised me we’d spend the whole day together since she was away all the time; now I know she was tending to you. Instead of being home with me, her y’know actual daughter.”

You giggled again, clearly delirious.

“So I finally got home, and when I walked inside I saw her just...bleeding everywhere. She was already dead, or so Namjoon told me later. He’d sent some grunts or something so as soon as I walked in I was being dragged out and to a car before I could even protest. None of you could even bear to clean up the mess you made! You must all be cowards of epic proportions. I mean seriously! You left her body to your grunts? After all she did for you? Real pathetic; lemme tell ya.”

You shrugged with a beaming smile, feeling a large wave threatening to drag you under as your blinks began to slow.

“At least she’s not anxious anymore though right?”

Hoseok listened to your story with that kind smile of his never once leaving, nodding in agreement to everything you said so you wouldn’t stop and pet your hair until blissful unconsciousness finally took you and you lost the war to stay conscious with a question of Yoongi’s disappearance being the last words to escape your lips.

Hoseok’s smile dropped and he turned towards the closet cooly, perceptive gaze narrowing.

“...You can come out now.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes as he stepped out.

“You coddle her too much. You should’ve just given her an interrogation drug instead of a gentle dose like that. We would’ve gotten the information quicker.”

Hoseok chuckled as he shrugged, uncaring as he took in Taehyung with detached indifference.

“I got the information didn’t I? And she won’t remember any of this. All the better for our plan. How’s Jungkook? Still distracting Yoongi?”

Taehyung nodded.

“Has him held hostage in the kitchen. It’s not like it takes much effort to play the brat on his part.”

Hoseok nodded, risking a glance at your slumbering form and Taehyung did the same.

There was a beat of silence and then.

“...We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

“We’re doing the only thing we can. And that’s enough.”

Taehyung suddenly flung himself back into the closet with a vengeance and silently rushed to close the door as he heard the infirmary door just beyond the wall burst open; barely managing it in time as Hoseok concealed the needle in his pocket and feigned confused annoyance at Yoongi’s abrupt entrance.

“Hyung! Quiet down or you’ll wake her! She just finally fell asleep. What the Hell took you so long?!”

Yoongi panted as he glanced around the room suspiciously and Hoseok briefly caught Jungkook’s vaguely concerned gaze behind him making Hoseok shoot him a dark look. All he’d had to do was give them the heads up he was returning! It could’ve been a single letter! But now there hadn’t been any time and-

“What’s this?”

Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but Hoseok could recognize that deadly tone anywhere.

His attention quickly shifted to see what he was referring to and his heart dropped although his annoyed expression remained unchanged.

Fuck.

The vial he’d used to extract the drug sat in between Yoongi’s fingers and he cursed himself for forgetting such a detail.

“Did you inject her with this?”

Yoongi’s eyes were like icy knives, cutting him to the quick and daring him to lie. He needed to play his cards right here or things could go very badly very quickly. Sure, the most secret documents were in his room but the ones in here would be enough to get him at least under suspicion and he just couldn’t have that right now. Not when they were so close.

Yoongi was growing impatient, his eyes narrowing all the more to fine, catlike slits as he strode forward to hiss into Hoseok’s face.

“Have you gone deaf? I said, ``Did you inject her with this?!”

“I did. I had to. She grew violent and-”

Yoongi grabbed him by the collar and Jungkook entered the room in panic but Hoseok waved his hand quickly to shoo him away, knowing better than to move his eyes when Yoongi was watching him so closely. One wrong move when Yoongi was in analysis mode and he’d blow all of their covers.

“Don’t fuck with me Jung. She was acting delirious to an extent yes, showing signs of a need for intense affection and physical contact as by isolating her I accidentally triggered her psyche to momentarily put down her walls and ask for the touch she needs since she’s been touch starved for God knows how many years. But she was anything but violent. Try again. And this time if you don’t tell me what I want to hear, I’ll just have to bring this to Namjoon.”

The dark smirk was on his lips before he could stop it, but he used it to his advantage.

“Like you aren’t going to anyway? You always were his favorite lapdog. Well…”

A smirk more snarl than smile twisted his expression to something even more ugly.

“Besides Seokjin that is.”

Yoongi looked stricken just as he’d intended and then he found himself collapsing from the impact of Yoongi’s fist on his cheek, followed swiftly by a kick to his stomach that made him cough as he curled up slightly even as a pained laugh escaped his lips.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve-”

He was cut off with a kick, to the head this time that had him seeing stars.

“Good thing you’re not the only one with a taste for hitting them eh? Maybe now you can feel how she did when you injected her with that crap.”

Hoseok dazedly realized he was being turned so his front was open to Yoongi and found himself straddled and then punch after punch was being delivered as Yoongi snarled venomously down at him.

“You are going to tell me exactly why you injected her and then we’re both going to tell Namjoon what you-”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to be cut off.

Hoseok’s eyes widened and he shouted, loudly.

“NO!”

The chair met Yoongi’s head with the sound of splintering wood, and he promptly fell to the floor unconscious as Taehyung panted heavily, eyes swirling with panic and adrenaline coursing through his body as he held out his hand to help Hoseok up.

Seeing the scene coming to an abrupt end Jungkook rushed to close and lock the door behind him; never so thankful for Namjoon soundproofing the medical ward after he screamed his head off having his wound cauterized one too many times.

Hoseok gritted his teeth in irritation as he smacked Taehyung’s hand aside, brushing the back of his hand over his now bleeding nose and spatting the blood that filled his mouth from his teeth being forced to bite down on his tongue too hard.

“...Now look what you’ve done. This wasn’t supposed to happen until her training was fully complete and now we’re going to have to move it up.”

Taehyung scoffed, looking offended.

“What; no thank you for saving you, you ungrateful ass? Yoongi would’ve continued till you were unconscious for that comment you made.”

“Exactly! That’s what I wanted you-!”

Hoseok cut himself off with a sigh and turned to the girl sleeping obliviously in the bed.

“Nothing we can do about it now. Jungkook, you’ll be the one to clean those wounds and then carry her out when the time comes.They may be superficial but it’ll be a problem if they become infected on the road. I’ll grab the materials from my room and Taehyung; you’re on weapon and surveillance duty. If we so much as miss one tracker or are spotted by one camera...this whole operation is blown. I hope you finished the map in time. We meet back here in 30 minutes. If one of us doesn’t show...we leave without them. Understood?”

Jungkook nodded, as did Taehyung and Jungkook was quick to grab the water jug, soap and rag that Yoongi brought in and tried to remind himself to go somewhat gently as he soaked the rag and scrubbed the soap into it before he ran it over your damaged shoulders. He made sure to get the entire area, just to be safe. He was pretty sure Hoseok wasn't above actually killing him if he didn’t clean them up to his standards and he still had plenty of things left to do in his life.

It only took him about 10 minutes to clean your small scrape wounds to his liking and he quickly finished up by wrapping them in bandages just in case before he set about grabbing whatever suitable medical equipment they may need in the meantime. Gods forbid your wound did get infected, or he or one of the others got injured they’d have some way to cope.

Taehyung returned with 10 minutes to spare, just as Jungkook was placing his gathered medical supplies into a non discript black duffel bag. He was carrying his own bag; also black to better blend in with the night and no doubt filled to the brim with weapons and interrogation tools he’d rather not dwell on for long.

They were both starting to get antsy as only 5 minutes remained as Hoseok finally rejoined them. In the meantime they’d bound both bags together for ease of carrying and Hoseok observed their handiwork with a hum of approval that made Jungkook’s heart swell despite himself. Praise from Hoseok was so hard to come by, it was something that was to be savored.

Hoseok mumbled an apology, explaining he’d taken the risk to gather some clothes for all of them in addition to the files and other supplies they’d need. They were doing the right thing, he was sure of it. There was no time for second guessing now; not with a bleeding Yoongi on the floor, an unconscious brat and an ever shrinking time limit. They had to go now.

At Hoseok’s signal, with Taehyung leading the way with map in hand they began to exit; First Taehyung, then Jungkook with girl in tow, and finally Hoseok. He hesitated for just a moment and then shoved open his vial drawer and grabbed several, rushing to read the labels. Just in case she got too rowdy, he told himself, quickly rushing to follow after his partners in arms.

He paused just one more time before he left and never looked back, eyes locking on Yoongi as a brief expression of pained regret flashed across his face.

‘...’

‘...Forgive me brother. But I did what I had to. You’ll come to understand one day, I hope.’

And then they were gone.

________________________________________________________________

A/N: Welp; that just happened! I hope you all enjoyed this and I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart for my lengthy absence. Depression hit me hardcore with the arrival of Covid and writing became a major struggle.I was only recently able to complete this after much struggle thanks to the darker subject matter and the characters themselves screaming at me what to do.

I will be participating in Monster Smash 2020 with @ksmutclub so look forward to my Scream AU(and do let me know if you have any good titles!) coming soon.

As for Tainting Purity...I love that series. So much. But this most recent chapter has really killed my motivation. I think I may have unintentionally censored myself to be more socially correct because it was going a certain direction and that bothers me. I just want to warn you guys; I may have to scrap it and start entirely from scratch to let it fully be my own.

It’s good to be back guys; I hope you’ll forgive me for dropping off planet Earth and welcome me back with your thoughts on the newest chapter. I love all you guys. <3

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 3 years

Text

Religious Trauma Syndrome: How Some Organized Religion Leads to Mental Health Problems

By Valerie Tarico

Marlene Winell interviewed March 25, 2013

At age sixteen I began what would be a four year struggle with bulimia. When the symptoms started, I turned in desperation to adults who knew more than I did about how to stop shameful behavior—my Bible study leader and a visiting youth minister. “If you ask anything in faith, believing,” they said. “It will be done.” I knew they were quoting [3] the Word of God. We prayed together, and I went home confident that God had heard my prayers. But my horrible compulsions didn’t go away. By the fall of my sophomore year in college, I was desperate and depressed enough that I made a suicide attempt. The problem wasn’t just the bulimia. I was convinced by then that I was a complete spiritual failure. My college counseling department had offered to get me real help (which they later did). But to my mind, at that point, such help couldn’t fix the core problem: I was a failure in the eyes of God. It would be years before I understood that my inability to heal bulimia through the mechanisms offered by biblical Christianity was not a function of my own spiritual deficiency but deficiencies in Evangelical religion itself.

Dr. Marlene Winell is a human development consultant in the San Francisco Area. She is also the daughter of Pentecostal missionaries. This combination has given her work an unusual focus. For the past twenty years she has counseled men and women in recovery from various forms of fundamentalist religion including the Assemblies of God denomination in which she was raised. Winell is the author of Leaving the Fold – A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving their Religion [4], written during her years of private practice in psychology. Over the years, Winell has provided assistance to clients whose religious experiences were even more damaging than mine. Some of them are people whose psychological symptoms weren’t just exacerbated by their religion, but actually caused by it.

Two years ago, Winell made waves by formally labeling what she calls “Religious Trauma Syndrome” (RTS) and beginning to write and speak on the subject for professional audiences. When the British Association of Behavioral and Cognitive Psychologists published a series of articles on the topic, members of a Christian counseling association protested what they called excessive attention to a “relatively niche topic.” One commenter said, “A religion, faith or book cannot be abuse but the people interpreting can make anything abusive.”

Is toxic religion simply misinterpretation? What is religious trauma? Why does Winell believe religious trauma merits its own diagnostic label?

Let’s start this interview with the basics. What exactly is religious trauma syndrome?

Winell: Religious trauma syndrome (RTS) is a set of symptoms and characteristics that tend to go together and which are related to harmful experiences with religion. They are the result of two things: immersion in a controlling religion and the secondary impact of leaving a religious group. The RTS label provides a name and description that affected people often recognize immediately. Many other people are surprised by the idea of RTS, because in our culture it is generally assumed that religion is benign or good for you. Just like telling kids about Santa Claus and letting them work out their beliefs later, people see no harm in teaching religion to children.

But in reality, religious teachings and practices sometimes cause serious mental health damage. The public is somewhat familiar with sexual and physical abuse in a religious context. As Journalist Janet Heimlich has documented in, Breaking Their Will, Bible-based religious groups that emphasize patriarchal authority in family structure and use harsh parenting methods can be destructive.

But the problem isn’t just physical and sexual abuse. Emotional and mental treatment in authoritarian religious groups also can be damaging because of 1) toxic teachings like eternal damnation or original sin 2) religious practices or mindset, such as punishment, black and white thinking, or sexual guilt, and 3) neglect that prevents a person from having the information or opportunities to develop normally.

Can you give me an example of RTS from your consulting practice?

Winell: I can give you many. One of the symptom clusters is around fear and anxiety. People indoctrinated into fundamentalist Christianity as small children sometimes have memories of being terrified by images of hell and apocalypse before their brains could begin to make sense of such ideas. Some survivors, who I prefer to call “reclaimers,” [8] have flashbacks, panic attacks, or nightmares in adulthood even when they intellectually no longer believe the theology. One client of mine, who during the day functioned well as a professional, struggled with intense fear many nights. She said,

“I was afraid I was going to hell. I was afraid I was doing something really wrong. I was completely out of control. I sometimes would wake up in the night and start screaming, thrashing my arms, trying to rid myself of what I was feeling. I’d walk around the house trying to think and calm myself down, in the middle of the night, trying to do some self-talk, but I felt like it was just something that – the fear and anxiety was taking over my life.” Or consider this comment, which refers to a film [9] used by evangelicals to warn about the horrors of the “end times” for nonbelievers.

“I was taken to see the film “A Thief In The Night”. WOW. I am in shock to learn that many other people suffered the same traumas I lived with because of this film. A few days or weeks after the film viewing, I came into the house and mom wasn’t there. I stood there screaming in terror. When I stopped screaming, I began making my plan: Who my Christian neighbors were, who’s house to break into to get money and food. I was 12 years old and was preparing for Armageddon alone.”

In addition to anxiety, RTS can include depression, cognitive difficulties, and problems with social functioning. In fundamentalist Christianity, the individual is considered depraved and in need of salvation. A core message is “You are bad and wrong and deserve to die.” (The wages of sin is death [10].) This gets taught to millions of children through organizations like Child Evangelism Fellowship [11] and there is a group organized [12] to oppose their incursion into public schools. I’ve had clients who remember being distraught when given a vivid bloody image of Jesus paying the ultimate price for their sins. Decades later they sit telling me that they can’t manage to find any self-worth.

“After twenty-seven years of trying to live a perfect life, I failed. . . I was ashamed of myself all day long. My mind battling with itself with no relief. . . I always believed everything that I was taught but I thought that I was not approved by God. I thought that basically I, too, would die at Armageddon.

“I’ve spent literally years injuring myself, cutting and burning my arms, taking overdoses and starving myself, to punish myself so that God doesn’t have to punish me. It’s taken me years to feel deserving of anything good.”

Born-again Christianity and devout Catholicism [13] tell people they are weak and dependent, calling on phrases like “lean not unto your own understanding [14]” or “trust and obey [11].” People who internalize these messages can suffer from learned helplessness. I’ll give you an example from a client who had little decision-making ability after living his entire life devoted to following the “will of God.” The words here don’t convey the depth of his despair.

“I have an awful time making decisions in general. Like I can’t, you know, wake up in the morning, “What am I going to do today?” Like I don’t even know where to start. You know all the things I thought I might be doing are gone and I’m not sure I should even try to have a career; essentially I babysit my four-year-old all day.”

Authoritarian religious groups are subcultures where conformity is required in order to belong. Thus if you dare to leave the religion, you risk losing your entire support system as well.

“I lost all my friends. I lost my close ties to family. Now I’m losing my country. I’ve lost so much because of this malignant religion and I am angry and sad to my very core. . . I have tried hard to make new friends, but I have failed miserably. . . I am very lonely.”

Leaving a religion, after total immersion, can cause a complete upheaval of a person’s construction of reality, including the self, other people, life, and the future. People unfamiliar with this situation, including therapists, have trouble appreciating the sheer terror it can create.

“My form of religion was very strongly entrenched and anchored deeply in my heart. It is hard to describe how fully my religion informed, infused, and influenced my entire worldview. My first steps out of fundamentalism were profoundly frightening and I had frequent thoughts of suicide. Now I’m way past that but I still haven’t quite found “my place in the universe.”

Even for a person who was not so entrenched, leaving one’s religion can be a stressful and significant transition.

Many people seem to walk away from their religion easily, without really looking back. What is different about the clientele you work with?

Winell: Religious groups that are highly controlling, teach fear about the world, and keep members sheltered and ill-equipped to function in society are harder to leave easily. The difficulty seems to be greater if the person was born and raised in the religion rather than joining as an adult convert. This is because they have no frame of reference – no other “self” or way of “being in the world.” A common personality type is a person who is deeply emotional and thoughtful and who tends to throw themselves wholeheartedly into their endeavors. “True believers” who then lose their faith feel more anger and depression and grief than those who simply went to church on Sunday.

Aren’t these just people who would be depressed, anxious, or obsessive anyways?

Winell: Not at all. If my observation is correct, these are people who are intense and involved and caring. They hang on to the religion longer than those who simply “walk away” because they try to make it work even when they have doubts. Sometimes this is out of fear, but often it is out of devotion. These are people for whom ethics, integrity and compassion matter a great deal. I find that when they get better and rebuild their lives, they are wonderfully creative and energetic about new things.

In your mind, how is RTS different from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Winell: RTS is a specific set of symptoms and characteristics that are connected with harmful religious experience, not just any trauma. This is crucial to understanding the condition and any kind of self-help or treatment. (More details about this can be found on my Journey Free [15] website and discussed in my talk [16] at the Texas Freethought Convention.)

Another difference is the social context, which is extremely different from other traumas or forms of abuse. When someone is recovering from domestic abuse, for example, other people understand and support the need to leave and recover. They don’t question it as a matter of interpretation, and they don’t send the person back for more. But this is exactly what happens to many former believers who seek counseling. If a provider doesn’t understand the source of the symptoms, he or she may send a client for pastoral counseling, or to AA, or even to another church. One reclaimer expressed her frustration this way:

“Include physically-abusive parents who quote “Spare the rod and spoil the child” as literally as you can imagine and you have one fucked-up soul: an unloved, rejected, traumatized toddler in the body of an adult. I’m simply a broken spirit in an empty shell. But wait...That’s not enough!? There’s also the expectation by everyone in society that we victims should celebrate this with our perpetrators every Christmas and Easter!!”

Just like disorders such as autism or bulimia, giving RTS a real name has important advantages. People who are suffering find that having a label for their experience helps them feel less alone and guilty. Some have written to me to express their relief:

“There’s actually a name for it! I was brainwashed from birth and wasted 25 years of my life serving Him! I’ve since been out of my religion for several years now, but I cannot shake the haunting fear of hell and feel absolutely doomed. I’m now socially inept, unemployable, and the only way I can have sex is to pay for it.”

Labeling RTS encourages professionals to study it more carefully, develop treatments, and offer training. Hopefully, we can even work on prevention.

What do you see as the difference between religion that causes trauma and religion that doesn’t?

Winell: Religion causes trauma when it is highly controlling and prevents people from thinking for themselves and trusting their own feelings. Groups that demand obedience and conformity produce fear, not love and growth. With constant judgment of self and others, people become alienated from themselves, each other, and the world. Religion in its worst forms causes separation.

Conversely, groups that connect people and promote self-knowledge and personal growth can be said to be healthy. The book, Healthy Religion [17], describes these traits. Such groups put high value on respecting differences, and members feel empowered as individuals. They provide social support, a place for events and rites of passage, exchange of ideas, inspiration, opportunities for service, and connection to social causes. They encourage spiritual practices that promote health like meditation or principles for living like the golden rule. More and more, non-theists are asking [18] how they can create similar spiritual communities without the supernaturalism. An atheist congregation [19] in London launched this year and has received over 200 inquiries from people wanting to replicate their model.

Some people say that terms like “recovery from religion” and “religious trauma syndrome” are just atheist attempts to pathologize religious belief.

Winell: Mental health professionals have enough to do without going out looking for new pathology. I never set out looking for a “niche topic,” and certainly not religious trauma syndrome. I originally wrote a paper for a conference of the American Psychological Association and thought that would be the end of it. Since then, I have tried to move on to other things several times, but this work has simply grown.

In my opinion, we are simply, as a culture, becoming aware of religious trauma. More and more people are leaving religion, as seen by polls [20] showing that the “religiously unaffiliated” have increased in the last five years from just over 15% to just under 20% of all U.S. adults. It’s no wonder the internet is exploding with websites for former believers from all religions, providing forums [21] for people to support each other. The huge population of people “leaving the fold” includes a subset at risk for RTS, and more people are talking about it and seeking help. For example, there are thousands of former Mormons [22], and I was asked to speak about RTS at an Exmormon Foundation conference. I facilitate an international support group online called Release and Reclaim [23] which has monthly conference calls. An organization called Recovery from Religion, [24] helps people start self-help meet-up groups

Saying that someone is trying to pathologize authoritarian religion is like saying someone pathologized eating disorders by naming them. Before that, they were healthy? No, before that we weren’t noticing. People were suffering, thought they were alone, and blamed themselves. Professionals had no awareness or training. This is the situation of RTS today. Authoritarian religion is already pathological, and leaving a high-control group can be traumatic. People are already suffering. They need to be recognized and helped. _______________________________

Statistics update:

Numbers of American ‘nones’ continues to rise

October 18, 2019

By David Crary – Associated Press

The portion of Americans with no religious affiliation is rising significantly, in tandem with a sharp drop in the percentage that identifies as Christians, according to new data from the Pew Research Center. …

Pew says all categories of the religiously unaffiliated population – often referred to as the “nones” grew in magnitude. Self-described atheists now account for 4% of U.S. adults, up from 2% in 2009; agnostics account for 5%, up from 3% a decade ago; and 17% of Americans now describe their religion as “nothing in particular,” up from 12% in 2009.

https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Society/2019/1018/Numbers-of-American-nones-continues-to-rise

_______________________________

Marlene Winell interviewed by Valerie Tarico on recovering from religious trauma Uploaded on January 31, 2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIfABmbqSMA

24:12

On Moral Politics, a TV program with host Dr. Valerie Tarico, Marlene Winell describes the trauma that can result from harmful experiences with religious indoctrination. Dr. Winell explains that mental health issues are widespread and need to be understood just as we understand PTSD. There are steps to recovery, treatment modalities, and resources available as well. She now refers to this as RTS or Religious Trauma Syndrome. _______________________________

Links:   [3] https://www.biblestudyonjesuschrist.com/pog/ask1.htm  [4] https://marlenewinell.net/leaving-fold-former  [8] https://journeyfree.org/article/reclaimers/  [9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Thief_in_the_Night_%28film%29  [10] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+6%3A23&version=KJV  [11] https://valerietarico.com/2011/02/04/our-public-schools-their-mission-field/  [12] http://www.intrinsicdignity.com/  [13] https://www.maryjohnson.co/an-unquenchable-thirst/  [14] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+3%3A5-6&version=KJV [15] https://journeyfree.org/category/uncategorized/ [16] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrE4pMBlis  [17] https://www.amazon.com/Healthy-Religion-Psychological-Guide-Mature/dp/1425924166 [18] https://www.humanistchaplaincy.org/ [19] https://www.christianpost.com/news/london-atheist-church-model-looking-to-expand-worldwide-91516 [20] https://www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/  [21] https://new.exchristian.net/  [22] https://www.exmormon.org/  [23] https://journeyfree.org/group-forum/ [24] https://www.recoveringfromreligion.org/

_____________________________________

Get God’s Self-Appointed Messengers Out of Your Head

Valerie Tarico Which buzz phrases from your past are stuck in your brain? “God’s messengers” were all real complicated people with biases, blind spots, favorite foods and morning breath. They were not gods and they are not you. So how can you get them out of your head or at least reduce them to muffled background noise?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElfyYA420F0

#religious trauma syndrome #Marlene Winell #Valerie Tarico

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years

Text

The Study of Hearts

Master List

Warnings: Hospital talk, minor swearing

“Hey Y/n, what’s been up with you today, doc?” You spare a quick glance over at the nurse who’d come up beside you, glancing away from the patient’s chart for only a second before returning to it.

“Nothing’s up with me, I’ve just got a lot of patients today.” She scoffs instantly. You should have known better than to try and lie to Nurse Choi. She had been your head nurse during your internship, and your residency, she knew almost everything about you, and you were a fool to assume she wouldn’t notice your sudden drop in mood.

“Don’t tell me that. We’ve had a fuller ward than this and you’ve never snapped at someone. That resident you scolded is still crying in the nurses station.” You feel a twinge of guilt at her words. The resident hadn’t really done anything wrong, but offered up the wrong medicine when you asked the group a question regarding a patient. You may have laid into them for longer than necessary about checking charts and allergies before handing out meds. “And this morning you actually shouted at the guy who took your parking spot. This isn’t like you.” You’re thankful the patient you’re currently looking at is asleep, recovering from a surgery that just ended. “So tell me what has the calmest, most level-headed doctor in the cardiology department so wound up.” You sigh deeply, setting the chart back into the sleeve at the end of his bed.

“My boyfriend.”

“The idol you swear you’re dating.” She huffs, somehow not believing you. You roll your eyes, deciding not to continue and simply walk away. No one ever believed you when it came to your boyfriend of nearly 4 years, and he wasn’t helping his own case either. “I just can’t believe an idol would date you, I’m sorry Y/n.” You spin back to the older woman, rising to your full height. You were sick and tired of people looking down on you for who you were dating as if they had any clue what was happening.

“It’s Doctor L/n, Nurse Choi. You may refer to me on personal terms when we are outside of this hospital, but seeing as you refuse to respect my personal life, you are no longer privy to it.” She blinks up at you in confusion before nodding. You can almost feel the shock she emits.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Room 1134, Patient Kim Seungkwan needs to be prepped for anesthesia. Dr. Song will be here in an hour.”

“Yes, Doctor.” She bows to you before turning away.

“And Nurse Choi.”

“Yes,Doctor?” There’s a hopeful gleam in her eyes when you call for her again.

“Tell that resident to stop crying, if he can’t handle being reprimanded there is no place for him in a medical field.” Her shoulders slump again, but you can’t bring yourself to feel guilty.

“Yes, Doctor L/n.” With one last curt nod to her you spin on your heels, stalking down the halls to your office.

You’ve barely gotten the chance to start your computer before someone is knocking on your office door.

“Who is it?” You ask, annoyance clear in your voice.

“Someone told me you’re having a bad day.” The voice of the young Chairman has you standing immediately as he walks in.

“Chairman Yoon, forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.” You bow, but he simply waves it off.

“Come on, Y/n, it’s just us. What have I told you about bowing to me.”

“Sorry Myungsoo, someone could have been behind you.” You chuckle dryly at your friend. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” He holds up a small lunch box, waving it slightly.

“I brought ice cream, but if you’re too busy I’m sure someone else will help me eat it.”

“I’m never too busy for ice cream.” You relent, holding out your hands for the box. “And I guess your company too.” He takes the seat across from you, watching for a moment as you dig in.

“So tell me, how come you’ve been such a bitch today?” His comment makes you choke slightly.

“Yah, Myungsoo, what the hell?”

“Come on, Nurse Choi’s upset, you yelled at a resident so bad he had to go home early.”

“He’s a crybaby.” You huff.

“That’s besides the point. What’s eating at you?” You sigh, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream and setting it on your desk.

“Mark.”

“Huh, you’d think Mark eating you would make you happier.” His joke has your cheeks flushing instantly and you throw your napkin at him.

“Yah! That’s not what I meant.”

“What about Mark? I heard their tour ended a few days ago.” You clench your teeth slightly, recalling exactly what’s got you so pissed off.

“They got home last night, at least BamBam says they did, only Mark didn’t text, call, anything. I only found out they got back in when BamBam posted a selca.” “So you’re mad because he didn’t come see you?”

“I’m mad because I’m fucking sick of it!” You explode, slamming your hand on the desk, making him jump. “He refuses to tell anyone we’ve been dating for almost 4 years, so everyone thinks I’m some delusional fangirl. He refuses to talk about the possibility of moving in together, we never go out when he’s in the country, and when he’s on tour I barely get a text once a week. He’s never met my friends or my parents and it kinda feels like he doesn’t even want to be in a relationship with me.” You finish your rant with a huff, raking your fingers through your hair. “He’s been managing to piss me off without even talking to me.”

“Sugar, I don’t think you’re mad, I think you’re hurt.” He begins, setting his own treat down, “Anger is a secondary emotion.”

“I know that, I did take psychology.” You grumble.

“So what’s really making you so upset?” You cross your arms on the desk, hiding your face in them.

“What if he doesn’t want to be with me any more? What if he just sees me as a burden these days and is trying to make me break up with him, so he doesn’t feel bad?” Myungsoo sighs, reaching out to rub your arm soothingly.

“I think if you’re questioning the relationship, you should either talk to him, or break it off.”

“I know, I’m just not sure if I’m ready for that. I really love him, you know?”

“Chairman Yoon, we have a meeting sir.” A voice announces, knocking on the door.

“You should go, thanks for the ice cream, and letting me vent.”

“No problem, sugar, you should call him.”

“I will.” The moment the door shuts behind him you pull your phone out of your bag, and pull up his contact. He doesn’t pick up, but you aren’t shocked. “Hey Mark, I heard you got in last night, I hope you’re doing alright. Look, I uh, I didn’t call for no reason. I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think it’s going to work out between us. There’s just so much missing between us, like,” You scoff lightly, “Like love. So yeah, I uh, think we should break up.” You look up to the ceiling, blinking back tears. “I get off at 11 tonight, if you want to call me back then. I doubt you will though, you never seem to want to talk to me any other time. Either way, I have Thursday off, you can come get anything you left at my apartment then. Bye.” You hang up quickly, before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag. You felt like sobbing, just finally crying and letting it all out, but you knew you couldn’t, you had patients to help, and they were the priority.

Of course, by the time 10:45 rolled around, you were dead on your feet, your brain hurt and you were about 2 seconds from cracking open the emergency wine you kept in the fridge in your office.

“Sir, I may not be a pulmonologist, but I can tell you that smoking combined with not exercising are a major factor in why your heart is damaged.” You insist, trying not to roll your eyes at the man as he scoffs.

“I don’t think you’re qualified to talk to me about this.”

“Sir, I’m-”

“Doctor L/n to Emergency Care, paging Doctor L/n to Emergency Care.”

“Mother-” You cut yourself off with a huff, “Sir, while you are in my care, it is my duty to offer you medical advice. You need to cut back on the cigarettes or quit entirely. While you’re in this hospital you are not welcome to smoke unless outside in a designated area, with a nurse present. Good night.” You bow, quickly exiting the room before you lose your cool and punch him.

“Doctor L/n, you’re needed in-”

“I heard,” You interrupt the resident who ran up to you. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a patient. He was attacked by a mob. He seems alright but he refuses to leave without seeing you.” The kid explains, holding the elevator door for you.

“Is he having trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain?”

“No, I haven’t seen his chart yet, but as far as I’m aware he only has a few cuts and bruises, if there are any internal injuries, it would likely be contusions on his ribs or-”

“Spleen, why on earth am I being called?” You’re racking your brain for some kind of answer when the elevator door opens.

“Ah doctor, you’re here.” The head of the ER sighs, meeting you only a few steps away from the lift, “Good. This way.” She begins leading you down one of the quieter halls.

“Jangmi, tell me you have some grasp as to why someone needs a cardiologist here right now.” You bite at the inside of your lip, completely lost as to why someone might need you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, he’s insistent and he’s mentioned you by name several times. Besides I’d rather his company continued to send their idols here.”

“Company?” You ask, just as she opens the door. “Who-” “Oh thank god, the good doctor is here, now will you stop being a baby?” A familiar voice asks, and your heart leaps into your throat as you round the privacy curtain. There, sitting on the bed, looking pitiful in the hospital clothes, was Mark Tuan. You have to bite back tears as you pick up his chart. He had several bruises already forming on the skin you could see, and a split in his lip.

“Mark Tuan what the hell happened to you?” Blood pressure, normal. Pupillary response, normal. No signs of concussion or brain trauma.

“Some sasaengs started fighting as we were trying to leave, Mark got caught in the middle.” Jackson explains, toying with the IV stand. “Hey what does this button do, Y/n.”

“Don’t touch it, Jackson.” Your response is instant and almost habitual, having had to slap his hand away from your tools plenty of times.

“I’m sorry, Doctor L/n, do you know these men? Personally?” Jangmi asks, noticing the way JB lingers at your shoulder and Jackson immediately stops toying with things.

“You could say that.” You muse, “Your vitals seem fine, though your heart rate has gone up slightly.” You can’t help the cheeky smile that dances onto your face. No, you broke up with him. You set his chart back down, grabbing his chin softly to turn his face towards the light. “You’ll have a few bruises, but nothing your make up artist can’t cover.”

“Y/n-”

“So you have any trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain, headaches?” You ignore his plea of your name in favor of the heart monitor next to him.

“No I’m fine.”

“Then why did you beg a cardiologist to come see you?” You snap, turning on him. “If you wanted to finally talk to me, you could have waited fifteen minutes. Instead you’ve wasted the time of not one, but two doctors, at least one of our residents and several members of the nursing staff. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What do I have to say? What about you? You broke up with me over a voicemail.” He shouted back, and you watch from the corner of your eye as everyone in the room takes a step back from the two of you.

“Well if you ever pick up your damn phone when I call, I could have broken up with you like that.” Your voice is somehow level, despite how hurt and angry you are.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.” Well, fuck, okay that was on you. “I didn’t want to run into you like this, but I figured ‘fuck it, you work here anyway’ might as well see you.”

“So instead of waiting to be discharged and coming up to my department you worry me sick by begging me to see you like this? Do you know how scary it is to be paged down here? I was terrified someone’s heart had stopped beating, or I was going to need to perform an emergency surgery and I found you sitting here, beaten up instead.” The dam breaks, and the first tears begin streaming down your face. “The second I heard JB’s voice I was terrified I was about to have to save your life. After everything I told you about my work, about my fears of finding you on my table one day, how dare you use that against me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Mark jumps up, pulling you into a tight hug as you cry into his shoulder.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know. I know I’ve been shitty. I should be taking you out and showing you off and I haven’t been. I’ve been so scared that Aghase might reject you, I never realized I was the one doing the rejecting. Please give me a second chance.”

“Promise me you’ll change?”

“For you, in a heartbeat.”

“Um, Dr. L/n.” Jangmi’s voice has you pulling away from Mark, wiping your eyes on the cuffs of your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Seo.” You laugh, trying to calm down. “I’ll handle his discharge paperwork.”

“Of course, Doctor.” She chuckles softly, offering you all a bow before exiting the room.

“You really broke up with him over voicemail?” JB asks, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I was upset.” You defend. “I also yelled at several people and told one of my closest friend’s to go fuck herself.”

“Well, I’m declining your break up attempt, you didn’t tell me directly, so it doesn’t count.” Mark decides, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you walk out of the room. Nurse Choi is standing immediately outside the door, discharge paperwork in hand.

“Oh, Nurse Choi, I thought you were up in Cardiology still?” You greet.

“Dr. Seo asked me to deliver this personally.” Her eyes are wide as she sees Mark’s arm around your waist and the other boys just behind you. “It seems I owe you an apology, Dr. L/n.”

“Yes you do. I’ll take those.” She sets the clipboard into your outstretched hand with a bow, moving to walk away. You saw the slump in her shoulders as she walked away, and the guilt crept into your chest. “Before you go,” Your call has her turning back to face you. “Noon, Saturday, come have lunch with me? Please Jisoo?” The smile that erupts on her face is enough to make you feel better.

“Of course, Y/n, see you then.”

#mark tuan #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan imagines #got7 imagines #got7 #got7 imagine #goodwriterwithbadhabits #halloween game #request

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death-himself · 3 years

Note

I don't know if you do prompts, but if you do, I was wondering if you'd ever consider adding a part in the Bogeyman!Virgil verse where the family has a fight.

Kids at that age are so temperamental, and they say things they don't mean to their family when they're so young, expressing hatred a lot. It's bound to happen, and siblings especially fight so often.

I could imagine one of the kids screaming at Virgil that he's a monster, not their real brother, that they hate him, that they hope they never see him again. It's pretty standard for a child, but I doubt Virgil would know that, and with his past of being unloved, I could see him immediately being heartbroken and devastated.

Love your work!

Sorry it took so long to get to this anon! The one-shot I wrote for this one actually ended up being like twice as long as usual :) I can imagine all of the kids, especially Roman or Patton getting upset with him pretty easily. And maybe this would also work for Thomas, I mean a single father of four kids would probably end up getting mad at them and hurting their feelings unintentionally every once in a while.

Anyway here’s the fic, I added Remus and Emile in just because (warnings for angst, fear, and Roman being an asshole at the beginning)

It was an accident. He didn’t mean to break it. He would’ve never broken one of their toys on purpose. He stared blankly at Roman’s plastic sword, the blade bent at a very noticeable angle. Roman’s eyes widened as he gazed at the damage, snatching the sword from Virgil’s hands to get a closer look. His eyes filled with tears instantly, big drops falling onto his broken weapon.

Virgil bit at his lip, guilt filling his stomach as he crouched down in front of him. He put a hand on Roman’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “I’m sorry Ro, I didn’t mean—” Roman shoved his hand away with a whimper, smacking him as hard as he could with his sword. Virgil flinched, despite the kid’s blow not causing him any pain. “I’m sorry, okay? We can get you a new one.”

“No! I liked this one!”

“Well...then maybe we could—”

“No!” Roman shrieked. “Go away! I hate you!” Virgil’s heart sunk into his stomach.

“Y-You don’t mean that Ro.” Virgil tried to put his hand back on Roman’s shoulder, but only got another smack from his toy sword.

“My sword was broken by a meanie monster.” Roman muttered angrily. As he stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Virgil stayed crouched, watching him leave with glazed over eyes. It had been so long since he had been called a monster, he had forgotten how much it stung. And now it hurt much, much more.

He took a shaky breath, gaze shifting to the ground. Roman did tell him to go away...

Okay. He’ll go away.

Thomas had heard Roman screaming and ran to the stairs, just in time to see the kid in question storming down with tearful eyes, and Virgil melting into the shadows and leaving. In Roman’s hands was his favorite toy sword, now bent beyond usable. “Oh Roman, what happened?”

“Virgil broke it! He’s a big meanie!” Thomas glanced up the stairs, where Virgil had disappeared. Not hearing Patton talking to him in the living room or Logan asking him questions in Virgil’s room meant he probably wasn’t anywhere in the house. Of course of all the sons to disappear after an emotional outburst it just had to be the one who could teleport.

“Were you two playing and it broke, or was he mad and broke it?”

“We were playing, and he was holdin’ it, and then he smacked it against the wall and it broke!”

“Do you think he meant to break it?” Roman huffed, wiping at his eyes before crossing his arms.

“...No, but he still broke it.” A bit of relief filled Thomas at that, but he would never tell Roman. Son or not, he wasn’t sure if we would know how to calm down an angry bogeyman that intentionally breaks his adopted brother’s toys.

“Do you know where Virgil went?” Roman blinked, the question breaking him out of his anger for a moment. He looked back up the stairs, eyes glancing around for a moment, surprised at Virgil’s absence, before huffing and turning back around.

“...No, but good riddance! He broke my sword!” Thomas took a deep breath. Okay, so Virgil could be anywhere. Now he just had to hope he was somewhere with a stable connection; maybe he could call him. If not, he might’ve just lost a son. His heart began to pound at that, but he hid his worry before Roman could see.

Right, he had to deal with Roman first. He slowly took the broken sword from Roman’s hands, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I’ll see if I can fix this. If it can bend without breaking, I might be able to bend it back. Why don’t you watch some cartoons with Patton while I give that a try?”

“But what if you end up breaking it more?”

“Then I can get you a new one. We might even be able to get you a new one today if you want.”

Roman whimpered. “But I like mine.”

“I know you do, bud. But sometimes...things break and have to be replaced. Nothing lasts forever.” Thomas glanced up the stairs, hoping to see Virgil returning. Still missing. “I’ll need you to apologize to Virgil later, okay? You said a lot of mean things to him, and probably made him feel really bad. And he’ll have to apologize for breaking your toy. Sound good?”

Roman was still clearly upset, but he nodded anyway, staring down at his feet as he thought. Thomas ushered him into the living room to distract him with the TV, then sent a text to Virgil’s phone, hoping he would get it.

Virgil had gone back to his cave. After officially moving in with his dad and brothers, he had expected to never want to—or feel the need to—come back here. But it was just as cold as he remembered. He sat with his back against the wall, staring through unfocused eyes as the shadows on the other side of the cave seemed to taunt him.

Maybe they were. Maybe they were thinking “what an idiot, caring for humans. It’d never work out in the end. Something always goes wrong.” At least that was what he was thinking. He knew how quickly humans could turn on other humans, it would make sense for them to turn on him much quicker.

His body was still weighed down by guilt. He broke Roman’s favorite toy, of course he would be mad. Virgil knew if one of them had broken something of his, he would probably be pretty upset. His words still rang in his ears, though.

He’d stay in the cave until things might have settled down. Then maybe he’d go back and talk to Dad.

Virgil was gone for two days by the time Roman felt just as much guilt and fear as the bogeyman himself was feeling. Thomas was trying his best to stay calm, knowing Virgil was fully capable of taking care of himself, but that fatherly panic was beginning to take over.

Virgil had told him about the cave he used to live in, and Thomas assumed that he had gone to stay there. But he had no clue where it was. As far as he knew, Virgil could be in some sort of Floridian cave less than a mile away or a cave all the way in Australia. He kept texting and calling in hopes that he would answer, but the chances of him having wi-fi in a cave was slim to nil.

He told Remus about Virgil’s disappearance, hoping that the only other person with demon children would know where his cave was. What he got as his answer was Remus putting him on hold for a whole hour, then coming back to say a terrifyingly serious “I’m on the case” before being hung up on. Whatever Remus was up to only made him more worried.

Virgil hadn’t expected to start his third day in his cave being tackled by two other bogeymen. He let out a startled curse as the two slammed into him and shoved him into the shadows, taking him with them back to their home. He growled, glaring at the two kids and preparing to fight back, before realizing where he was.

Remus bopped his head with a rolled-up newspaper, Emile grinning eagerly behind him. “Hey there Vee!” Virgil sighed, his heart rate beginning to drop back to normal.

“Hey...”

“Uncle Thomas has been real worried about you.” Remus spoke, looking the newspaper over in his hands as if it were a weapon.

“He has?” Virgil tried to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

“Well fuckin’ duh! He wouldn’t have called me of all people if he wasn’t!”

“Did he ask you to get your kids to kidnap me?”

“No, that was my idea.” Emile responded happily, bringing Virgil over to the couch and giving him a cup of hot chocolate. “I thought it’d be funny. Sorry if it scared you.”

“It’s fine, I guess.” Virgil watched as Janus stuck his tongue out at him, a grin on his face as he ran off down to his bedroom, Remy following soon after. Remus kicked his feet up on the coffee table, looking at him expectantly.

“So you gonna teleport back home, or do ya want one of us to drive you there like a human?” Virgil couldn’t answer. It was nice to hear that Dad was worried, but he was more concerned about how Roman felt. Emile seemed to sense his unease, ruffling his hair a bit.

“Thomas told us what happened, and Roman’s really sorry. This sort of thing just sort of happens with kids. Kids as old as your brothers get upset really easily and say things they don’t mean.” A warm smile spread across his face, slowing Virgil’s skipping heart and steadying his constantly anxious mind.

“Roman doesn’t actually hate you, especially not because of just one mess-up. Kids’ brains aren’t exactly developed enough to properly respond to things that upset them, anyway, so this is pretty normal.” Virgil nodded slowly, staring down at the hot chocolate in his hands.

Remus giggled excitedly, saying in the most affectionate voice Virgil had ever heard “I bet you could destroy the world with those smarts, Lilo and Switch.” Emile’s cheeks turned red, and his smile was redirected at his boyfriend.

“It’s just basic developmental psychology, nothing but fifteen minutes of googling will tell you this much.” Remus just hummed happily. Emile turned his attention back to Virgil. “So what do you say? You wanna go back now, or wait a bit?” Virgil pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He did miss the house...and his room...and his family.

He sighed, his anxiety failing as he placed down the cup of hot chocolate, stood up, and without another word dropped into the shadows.

Virgil appeared in his room, relieved (and for whatever reason a bit upset) that no one was there. He gulped, debating whether it would be more awkward to walk out and find the others or just wait there until someone comes in. But Dad decided that for him, singing a song from a musical he hadn’t shown Virgil yet as he went about cleaning the house.

Dad stared up at him, expression blank as his brain tried to figure out what was going on. The memory of their first time seeing each other face-to-face played in Virgil’s head—and wow, he looked just as confused as he did back then.

The lightbulb went off in his brain and his eyes widened, dropping his cleaning supplies and pulling him into a hug, letting out a relieved, almost delirious laugh. “Oh thank goodness you’re okay!” Warmth filled Virgil’s heart as he hugged back as best he could, his arms pinned to his sides by Dad’s tight grip. “You were at your cave, right? I really need to figure out where that place is.”

“Janus and Remy know, Emile sent them to kidnap me and bring me to their place.”

Dad pulled away, eyes wide. “They kidnapped—” He stumbled over his words, sounding both alarmed and confused, before going silent. “You know what, I’m not even surprised.”

“Yeah, those guys are weird.”

“How did those kids know where the cave was, though?” Virgil shrugged.

“I think all three of us were formed there, they just never actually lived there. That’s my best guess at least.”

“Well...I’m just glad they found you. We’ve all been really worried.” Virgil heard four small feet running up the stairs and over to his door, two faces peering in. Smiles spread across Logan and Patton’s faces as they practically tackled Virgil to the ground, clinging onto him as if he’d disappear if they let go. Virgil hugged them back, just happy to see them again.

Then he heard another pair of feet run up the stairs, and Roman appeared in the doorway. Virgil gave him an uneasy smile. “I’m...sorry for breaking your toy, Ro, I didn’t mean—”

Roman’s lip began to quiver and tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran to hug Virgil, clinging on tightly as he babbled out apologies until his words were completely unintelligible. Virgil awkwardly hushed him, running a hand through his hair as his incoherent babbling began to die down. “It’s fine, Ro, I’m okay.”

“It’s not fine!” Roman whined. “You disappeared for two days and I was really mean to you and I thought you’d never come back and I’m sorry!” Virgil looked to Dad, hoping he would be able to help. Dad came over and gently shushed Roman, saying “Virgil’s here now, he’s not gonna leave, we’re all gonna be okay, bud.”

Roman slowly calmed down, tears no longer falling from his eyes and breathing beginning to steady. Dad asked Logan and Patton to go back downstairs while he talked with Roman and Virgil. He had to make sure his two oldest kids would be okay.

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youre-killing-me-fandom · 4 years

Text

Parkner week 2020 Day 1: future au

This trope was not my own idea. Also, this is my first time writing fanfiction so it’s probably terrible. All constructive criticism is welcome.

..........................................................................................

The last thing Tony Stark remembered was the white-hot pain of the stones' power rushing through his body followed by the peaceful relief of feeling nothing as his surroundings slowly drifted away.

Yet there he was, standing inside of a building that looked strangely similar to the Avengers Compound though at the same time, completely different.

"Tony… you've been gone for over ten years…" said Pepper slowly with tears in her eyes.

Tony's eyes widened in shock. "What year is it?"

"2036"

Tony's mind had to take a second to process what he was hearing. He had been gone for thirteen years, which means Morgan should be almost eighteen, Peter 29, and Harley 30. His kids grew up without him; his baby girl was an adult; Peter and Harley had graduated for Christ's sake, from both high school and college. Tony couldn't have held back the sob he let out even if he tried.

"Oh Tony…" she gathered her husband in her arms. He buried his face in her neck and let out heart-wrenching sobs. His tears were beginning to dampen Pepper's neck when she started to run her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.

"They were devastated, you know," Pepper began, "Everyone was, but it took them longer to finally accept that you were gone."

Tony raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Who?"

"Harley and Peter," replied Pepper, "Harley locked himself in your lab for days on end and wouldn't come out until someone went in and forced him to get some rest. Peter wouldn't eat and hardly got any sleep from all of the nightmares he was having. It finally got to the point where Helen had to hook him up to an IV after he passed out once. That was when I told them both that you wouldn’t want them doing this to themselves. After that, they started to make progress.”

Another wave of sorrow hit Tony like a brick wall. His boys were so upset over his death that they neglected their own health. How many times had they willingly allowed themselves to be hurt because of him?

"But they got better," continued Pepper, "They were able to find comfort and start looking after each other." She let out a chuckle. "They were practically attached at the hip. Still are."

That made Tony smile. He was glad that they got along. He always wanted to introduce them but never got the chance to before the Blip happened.

"You should see them. You'd be so proud. They're both helping me so much with Stark Industries. I honestly have no idea what I'd do without them," said Pepper, as she wiped away the remaining tears left on his face.

"What about Morgan? How’s she?"

"She's amazing," said Pepper. Tony tried to make a comment about how of course she is, she’s his daughter, but Pepper just ignored him with an eyeroll. "Peter says she's the perfect combination of you and me with your brains and my business skills. God only knows one day the three of them are either going to take over the world or destroy it."

Tony let out a snort, "That sounds about right."

···································

They continued to talk about everything he'd missed for over an hour when Pepper let out a startled sound, “I forgot to tell you-"

"Hey Pepper, do you know where my..laptop...is…" said Harley as he walked in before making eye contact with Tony and tapping his watch, which turned into a repulser that was aiming straight at the older man.

“Harley?” Tony asked in wonder, tears threatening to spill again. Harley looked different from how he did when he had last seen him, but that was, without a doubt, him. His dirty blonde hair had grown long enough to reach just above his ears, and, Jesus, was he tall. The blue-eyed boy looked like he reached a height of about 6’3”, a full two inches taller than Tony himself. He was about to say more but was cut off by a startlingly hard voice.

"What the hell are you doing here?" yelled Harley. Pepper jumped up in alarm at the younger boy's harsh tone and stood between the two of them, getting in the way of the repulser's shot.

"It's not him, Harley." Not who? Tony thought.

Harley’s narrowed eyes never left the other man as he replied with a snarl, "Tony’s dead, so who else could it be?"

"It's not, I had Friday check to make sure it wasn't an illusion. Do you really think I wouldn’t think of that?" said Pepper, her voice laced with accusation.

Harley looked at her for a second before reluctantly lowering his gun “No...but then how-”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He said the last thing he remembers is using the stones against Thanos before ending up here.”

Tony watched them talk back and forth for another ten minutes while he processed what just happened. What did this person do to make him so hostile? Before he could stop himself, he voiced his confusion.

Harley stopped arguing with Pepper and turned to him with a sigh, “You’re really you, aren’t you?” His eyes searched Tony for any hesitation while he waited for an answer.

“Of course, who else would I be? Seriously, what’s going o-”

He was cut off by someone throwing themselves at him and wrapping their arms around him in a firm hug. “God, I missed you, old man.”

Tony relaxed in his grip and returned the hug tightly. “Missed you too, kid”

It took them several minutes to rein in their emotions and let go of each other, their faces wet with tears. Neither of them were ever really good at emotions, both preferring to make sarcastic comments rather than state their true feelings.

“So, you never answered my question,” stated Tony.

Harley looked at him in confusion, “What question?”

“Who did you think I was?” Tony both wanted to change the subject and satisfy his curiosity, but Pepper and Harley gave each other a worried glance before tentatively turning back to him.

“It’s a, uh, long story,” Harley said, “A lot happened while you were gone," but as he raised his arms to start explaining, Tony noticed something.

“Hold on a second...Is that a wedding ring?! You're married?!"

“Oh, well, I guess,” The blonde boy sheepishly rubbed his neck.

“What do you mean you ‘guess?’” Tony cried, “Who is it? Do I know them?”

Harley looked overwhelmed, but it was obvious that Pepper found this all amusing due to the bright laugh she let out. “I told you he would go crazy if he ever found out. Just wait until he hears who it is.” The boy glared at her for a second, wishing she wouldn’t encourage the older man. It wasn’t that Harley was afraid to tell Tony about his husband, but...he was kind of afraid to tell him about his husband. Both Harley and Peter knew that Tony had seen them both as sons, and they had mournfully speculated on multiple occasions what his reaction would be; however, now that he was given the chance to find out for himself, he was hesitant. Would Tony be mad at them? God knows that neither of them would be able to deal with their pseudo-father's rejection very well, especially Peter.

“Well, you see, it’s-”

“Tony?” Tony’s head shot up at the sound of his name.

“Peter! Wait, it's not-” Harley tried to reach out to the other boy, but he fearfully jerked away from the incoming touch, eyes wide. When he saw this, Harley’s blue eyes softened into something akin to hurt and a small sympathetic noise left his throat.

“Peter, sweetheart, you’re ok, you’re safe. It’s not Beck,” spoke Harley softly, as if he were talking to a frightened animal, but it didn’t seem to work. Peter began to hyperventilate the longer he looked at the scene in front of him. In an attempt to block out the illusion, he quickly shut his eyes and covered his ears, trying to defend himself against the more than likely painful experience he was about to have.

“Pepper, get him out of here!” snapped Harley, and it didn’t take long for Pepper to grab Tony’s arm and pull him out of the room despite the boy’s rude tone. At this point, Tony was very confused. He thought Peter would be ecstatic to see that he was back, not fearful. And who is Beck? The name is vaguely ringing a bell. Is that who Harley thought he was? What did he do to Peter that would make him have a panic attack the moment he thought he saw him?

Once he and Pepper were out of sight from the other two, they came to a stop. “What the hell was that all about?” Tony demanded.

Pepper let out a long sigh, and in that moment, she looked very tired. "Do you remember Quentin Beck?"

The second Tony heard the man's full name, memories of a brown haired man screaming at him rushed to the surface of his brain. That psycho was who everybody was so defensive against? Tony remembered the project they were working on. Beck was brilliant, but he had proven himself to be unstable when he tried to use an experiment with their work on an unsuspecting intern. After that, Tony had stopped the partnership between them and wrote up a contract that said Tony got full rights to the product and Beck would only get part of the credit since Tony had done most of the work anyways. He really hoped that didn't result in consequences for his protege.

But unfortunately his hope ended up being dashed when Pepper began to explain all of the things Beck had done to Peter in Europe as revenge for what Tony had done, from revealing his identity and framing him for murder to hitting him with a speeding train (of all things), all while psychologically tormenting him with illusions of his worst fears and most traumatic experiences. Apparently while Peter was on the run as an international criminal, Pepper and Happy had sent him to stay with Harley to lay low while they cleared his name and did damage control.

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. His son had gone through hell and back in the wake of his death and Tony wasn't there to help him. Peter must've felt so alone, not to mention all of the PTSD he must've gotten from the whole ordeal.

Pepper saw the combination of anguish and fierce protectiveness on his face and assured Tony that yes, Peter had been through a lot, but between Harley, Happy, May, Morgan, and herself, he was able to mentally recover for the most part. He still has nightmares and panic attacks about what happened but he is now able to put the suit on and protect New York despite what happened to him as Spider-man.

Tony still had so many questions, but before he could voice any of them Friday’s robotic voice said, "Mr. Keener wishes me to tell you that you may make your way back to the living room."

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

As Pepper slowly led Tony back to where the boys were, she cautioned, "Just give him some time. One of Beck's favorite things to torment him with was you."

Tony's anger flared once more. How dare Beck hurt his kid like that. It's a good thing he's dead because he definitely wouldn't be alive for much longer with Tony here now.

When they finally re-entered the living room, what Tony saw made him freeze. Peter wasn’t cowering against the wall anymore but was now standing in Harley’s arms with his face buried in the taller boy’s chest. Harley had his head rested on top of Peter’s chocolate curls as he serenely swayed the both of them back and forth and murmured something Tony couldn’t hear. He looked over to Pepper to see if she was seeing the same thing he was, but she was just looking at the two with fond eyes before quickly glancing in Tony’s direction with a smug smile. He raised his eyebrows at her in question but she just gently shook her head and cleared her voice to grab the others’ attention.

Peter and Harley both looked up, startled, before de-tangling from each other minus one hand. The former looked at Tony with hesitation and asked, “Is it really you?”

“Yeah, bud, it’s me,” replied Tony, trying to put as much sincerity in his eyes as possible.

When Peter heard that, he let out a sob and let go of Harley’s hand as he threw himself at his mentor. Tony was quick to meet him halfway in a bone-crushing hug, securing his arms around the boy as he turned his face into the younger man’s temple. Peter was openly crying with his head tucked into Tony’s neck, the tears on his face soaking the older man’s skin, “I missed you...so much,” hiccups breaking apart his speech.

“God, I missed you too, kid,” was all Tony could say in response.

It felt like hours before they let go of each other, them both trying to make up for the years they didn’t have together. When they finally took a step back, Peter went back to Harley’s side and grabbed his hand again, seeking comfort from it. That was when Tony noticed the gold band on his ring finger as well. “What the hell?! You’re married too?!” he shouted.

Peter, Harley, and Pepper all gave each other a look that lasted a little too long, and Tony felt like he was missing something, “What?”

“You really haven’t figured it out yet?” replied Pepper with a touch of humor in her voice.

“Figured what out?”

“I guess I never actually told you who I was married to…” chimed Harley, “It’s, uh, it’s Peter. Peter’s my husband.” The couple gave each other a look full of love and adoration before turning back to Tony to see his reaction.

Tony’s breath was knocked out of his lungs, “Holy shit, seriously?” He always knew the two of them would get along together like fire takes to oxygen, but he never imagined this. Though now that he thinks about it, it kind of makes sense. The boys are very similar with their love of science yet are complete opposites personality-wise. Harley is rough around the edges and prefers to avoid discussing feelings or showing his true emotions, much like Tony does. While Peter, on the other hand, is soft-hearted and does his best to think about everybody else but himself. Together, they seem to complete each other, picking up the slack in one part of the other’s life that they weren’t aware was weighing them down.

This time Peter spoke up saying, “Yeah, uh, we’ve been together for over ten years now. About four years ago Harley proposed to me and we got married two years later.” Tony’s heart dropped at the thought of missing their wedding.

“They were both pretty upset about you not being able to be there, so we set up a chair in the front with a picture of you sitting on it,” added Pepper.

Tony tried to will away the tears that were threatening to spill again but a few of them ran down his cheeks anyways. He was touched by their gesture and walked forward to engulf them both in a hug that they returned, “I’m happy for you, boys.” The two of them seemed to relax at that, but by then, everyone in the room was crying.

“I’m glad you’re back,” whispered Peter with a smile despite the tears running down his face.

“Me too, kid, me too.”

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9worldstales · 3 years

Link

INTERESTING POINTS TO PONDER FROM INTERVIEWS 1

Interviews might not remain forever available or not be easy to find so I’ve decided to link them and transcribe the points I find of some interest so as to preserve them should the interview had to end up removed.

It’s not complete transcriptions, just the bits I think can be relevant but I wholeheartedly recommend reading the whole thing.

And of course I also comment all this because God forbid I’ll keep silent... :P

Title: Tom Hiddleston On Set Interview THOR; Talks About Playing Loki, How He Got Cast, and a Lot More

Author: Steve Weintraub

Published: Dec 10, 2010

BEST BITS FROM THE INTERVIEW

ON LOKI

So could you talk about in the film how it’s being played?

Hiddleston: Yeah. Well we’re starting at the beginning; I think it’s safe to say. I start in the film as Thor’s younger brother and I think in the manner of all younger brothers I have a greater sense of freedom. I’m not the oldest therefore the parental expectations aren’t as heavy, so it’s like a lot of younger children in sibling groups; I think Loki has a bit more freedom. He’s not going to be King. He knows that. And so he’s freer to…he has less responsibility on his shoulders so he’s freer to have a bit more fun. And I think like everybody at Marvel has been very clear and brilliant about coming into this that Loki just has…they’re both enormously gifted. Thor and Loki are a 2-man team and they’re both going to run Asgard when Oden steps down, and Thor has an ability and a physicality and a presence—a physical presence that is…he’s the type of man you follow. You just do. In the same way they used to talk about all the leaders and the captains and the generals that came out of both World Wars that those captains and generals weren’t necessarily elected just in battles. There were certain men who were followed. You know, leaders were born and Thor is that guy. And Loki’s gifts are different in that he is sharper, he’s cleverer, he’s more interested in tactics and strategy. He’s capable of thinking ahead and he enjoys chaos. So he enjoys reacting to chaos and that affects how given that he’s the God of mischief. Mischief is essentially chaos. He likes stoking the fire of chaos and seeing what happens as a result. And so I think that’s where we start in that he’s just physically not as strong, but he has…he’s quicker and sharper and I guess that’s fair to say…

PUBLICIST I’m listening, don’t worry.

Hiddleston: Yeah, quicker, sharper, more playful and then I think over the course of the story and I can’t say the full story, but there is a kind of….a couple of major shocks about Loki and his history and who he is and why he is come to him. He’s made aware of for the very first time in the films. There are certain things that fans of the comics will already know, but hopefully you see Loki learn certain things about himself for the first time. So it’s a journey of self-awareness. He doesn’t, at the beginning of the film, know his own power and I think through the course of the film he comes to learn his true nature and the extent of his power. But with a propensity for mischief I think as soon as he knows how powerful it is that’s when it becomes dangerous.

We got to play with some of those fantastic weapons, how have you learned to wield them?

Hiddleston: It’s been fascinating actually. And one of the first things I did when I came on board was that we started with stunt training. And we thought like what is…it’ll be boring if Thor was a tank. It’d be boring if Loki was another tank and they were just running into each other. So we thought if Thor is thunder and power and muscle and brawn and he’s got his hammer, Loki should be like…he should be so quick he’s like the wind. So if Thor is heavy, Loki is light. We thought what would be the weapon that Loki would be fighting with? So we thought throwing knives….because I think Loki doesn’t like to get his hands dirty in a fight. He likes to be quick, efficient and lethal. It’s like one blow—slam. So we thought it would be throwing knives. And I thought if there was a way…if Loki could fight in a way that was as impressive as Thor’s, but was completely different so in a way Loki is too quick and Thor can’t catch him, you know? I kind of conceived of Loki as a kind martial artist with these throwing knives. Someone who’s like a dancer. He dances his way out of combat and these knives are his way of keeping his foes at arm's length but it’s lethal. When you get one of those knives in, you’re gone. I had a great time actually, we were shooting on another set shooting a bit battle sequence. And the set was made of this stuff. It looked hard but it was soft. It was foam. And my stunt knives were rubber so they didn’t like take out the grip or the camera operator. But we found like…I’d always throw them and Russell Bobbit, the props master, would always go and retrieve them for me for the next take. And he couldn’t find one of the daggers and we were like looking all over the set for this dagger. And I’m like where the hell did it go? And like about half an hour later we’d thought we lost it somewhere in the green screen. And he said, Tom, and he pointed up and this rubber knife was stuck clean into the set, so I knew I was throwing them with some kind of velocity.

Does it affect your thoughts at all that maybe you could do this performance a 2nd, 3rd, 4th time? Did you bring any bread crumbs or anything like that?

Hiddleston: Yeah, I feel that way certainly. I haven’t started…I can tell you this for free. I don’t start the film with him like immediately gone to the dark side. I think it’s good to see that Loki is genuinely Thor’s brother and there is a complicated relationship there. So that it isn’t just like…he isn’t just an out and out villain. He isn’t all black. He isn’t someone who the audience can immediately say “he’s the bad guy” because I think it’s more interesting if… because no character in real life or in comic books or any play or film or anything, nobody thinks they’re a villain. You always think there’s a complete logic to what you’re doing and you know what’s best and you know what’s right. And I think it’s really interesting to see Loki’s actions from his perspective and he’s just someone who becomes more and more damaged by, I think, a sense of isolation from his family and a sense of…it’s kind of a deep loneliness. I think when the world makes you feel rejected, you bite back. And I think over the course of the film that’s what you see in Loki. He feels continually cast out by different sets of people and his brother particularly and at a certain point he’s pushed too far and he comes back with a vengeance.

A lot of the actors have been talking about working with Ken, Shakespeare is definitely a touch stone, is that something that’s come up working with Ken? Of any characters you’re sort of…

Hiddleston: I’ve talked to him very much about subtlety because I don’t want to do any eyebrow twitching or moustache twiddling. I don’t want to do sort of like a caricatured villain. I’ve tried very much to make Loki psychologically plausible. Someone who’s damaged and very, very intelligent and is able to sow the seeds of deceit. Like he’s the Oscar winning liar, you know? He’d stand up there and you buy it. You’d buy anything from him. He’s the perfect salesman. Because my background is Shakespeare as well, I’ve done a lot of Shakespeare in London and Iago is kind of a touch stone for me. Edmund in King Lear, if you know that story. But I draw my inspiration from all over the place. I’ve been listening to lots of the Prodigy. Like there was an album they released in the ‘90’s called Music for the Jilted Generation, which has a real rage in it. It has a real kind of like don’t piss me off because I’ll bark at you. And I find myself listening to that sometimes. And there are some great performances. Ken talked a lot about some of Peter O’Toole’s greatest performances and how in “Lawrence of Arabia” or “The Lion in Winter” he is on the edge of darkness. He’s on the edge of sanity. You can see it in his eyes that he’s been pushed to the brink and you’re not sure if you can trust him because there’s a madness in there, you know? A greatness, too and a charisma and a power that you want to get close to and you want to see inside, but it’s a little bit dangerous. And so I’ve been trying to kind of… I drive to work every morning and I try and light some kind of bonfire under myself which is adrenalized and hot and alone. It’s a strange feeling when you’re playing a character that feels so alone.

Are there certain like iconic gestures or poses from the comic book that you’re trying to use, because when I think of Loki I always think of him kind of slouched in the throne and kind of brooding.

Hiddleston: Yeah, that’s definitely like…I recall that Ken talks about the racing mind. He said I want to see…he said every time I put the camera on your face, I want to see your brain going at the speed of light. But I don’t want anyone else in the scene to see it. So this is a very private thing of like someone who’s just thinking 10 steps ahead of the game every time, but not making it so obvious that it’d be like guys, somebody look at Loki because he’s cooking up something. Bad ass, you know? But I do feel like he’s a sort of person who never sleeps. His brain never stops working. And he’s always cooking up something. You’re never quite sure if you can trust him and….what was the question again?

Well, like were there certain…

Hiddleston: Yeah, facial expressions. Certainly there’s this fantastic shot of me on the throne where it’s like straight out of that sort of iconic image where he’s got the staff and he’s slouching in it. He’s like, got a problem with that? You know? But yeah, I guess as an actor I start from the inside out. Like the costume is enormously helpful but I always think like what makes him tick? What is human about this character? I don’t want to play a cipher. I look at someone who is damaged, broken, alone, isolated from his family, doesn’t feel like he belongs, someone who’s been lost, abandoned. And there are physiological tropes for those things, you know? And you see the lost and damaged and abandoned children of our world. It’s no accident that they grow up to be… to fill our prisons, you know? And that’s kind of who Loki is. He’s just really clever, you know? So he’s good at hiding his own intents I think. So I think the process of living through those emotions or feeling so angry with people because they don’t trust him. And feeling angry with Thor because he gets everything. He’s the favourite son. I think just the process of living inside that anger, that rage, that hurt every day creates an intensity on my face which I’m not aware of. So it’s not like I’m creating expressions but absolutely there’s a kind of a raw intensity that Ken said from the word go he said I want to see you every day with a layer of skin peeled away. I want to see that ticker tape machine inside your head like working at 1,000 miles per minute. Yeah, it’s great man!

MY TWO CENTS

I love to read Tom Hiddleston’s interviews because they’re always filled with extra information, which are often based on bits that didn’t make into the final cut but are still part of the canon or give an insight on the characters’ minds.

Like how he says ‘Thor and Loki are a 2-man team and they’re both going to run Asgard when Odin steps down’ because in the old script it was implied that, although Thor would be king, Loki would be his right hand man, giving him consueling.

On the differences between Thor and Loki’s fighting styles and how Loki is still dangerous. People might not get it from the movie, assuming Thor is the one with the fighting ability but here it turns out Loki too has his strenght, although it lays in different things, like speed.

Or how he remarks about Loki’s loneliness and sense of isolation, who feels rejected and that’s why he bites back, someone who’s really smart.

It’s all things that I love to hear about a character and that show a good care in creating him.

Of course through the interview he also say things that are more technical, related to how he got hired or how he found difficult to wear Loki's horns and so on and this too is very intriguing but what always win me are informations about the characters, their mind, their world. And he always share some of them in all his interviews.

#thor #loki odinson #loki #tom hiddleston #interview #mcu thor #9 worlds interview study

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igirisuhito · 4 years

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Title: Out of my mind Relationship(s): Kamukura Izuru/Naegi Makoto Rating: Teen Summary: Naegi goes to confront Kamukura Izuru, based off their scene in dr3. For Kamuegi week Day 5: Scars/Future Foundation Trigger Warnings: Medical Trauma, Medical Abuse, Broken Bones, Dr0 References/Spoilers, PTSD

[Ao3 Link]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Future Foundation were kind enough to disclose all information that led to the Tragedy of Hope's Peak to its survivors. Naegi read through the files of the Hope Cultivation Project, the project that was being funded by the school's reserve course. The same event that led to its downfall.

It was utterly petrifying to him.

The fact that a talentless student would volunteer himself for such brutal experiments was unfathomable. He saw the logs of Hinata Hajime's descent into inhumanity, becoming a creature nobody could ever hope to perceive as a regular person.

There were 3 surgeries in total, all additional operations were performed through electrical stimulus or injections of medication. The first one was a whole two days after Hinata had signed that contract, the aforementioned contract that had disappeared from the Biology building before it could have been recovered. Which was unfortunate, but they were already so lucky to have been able to obtain the Project's logs that nobody really cared about what had been lost.

The first surgery was the one that scared Naegi the most. The severing of the connections between the prefrontal cortex and parts of the frontal lobe from the rest of the brain. Kirigiri had explained this to him simply, "They performed a leucotomy. You know what that is, right? A lobotomy?"

They'd learnt about it in highschool, surprisingly their years of education were the memories most easily recovered. Naegi never really paid attention to lessons in psychology. Perhaps he should have, as a knowledge in brain ablation somehow ended up being something he actually did need later on in life.

The fact remained that this was the first step in inducing Kamukura's apathetic outlook towards life. This was where the despair began, the despair he wanted to reverse. But how can someone reverse the effects of permanent brain damage? It's impossible, right?

Things seemed to only get worse the more he read. The thing Naegi hated most was how positive the post surgery notes were, as if what occurred was a miracle.

The subject is responding well, his aggression has reduced and he has become more passive towards his doctors. The subject's anxiety seems to have been quelled and he has been dissociative and nonverbal. Fortunately, he is still able to use his vocal cords and form words, as evidenced by his reaction to pain stimulus.

He could only gag. The school Naegi admired so deeply was willing to do this to a human being? He couldn't force himself to imagine the student identification photo of Hinata bearing those same lifeless eyes of Kamukura.

It was all so so fucked up. Enough to make him groan and slam his head down onto the desk, as if giving himself brain damage would fix Hinata's.

Naegi recalled Munakata placing a hand on his shoulder, interrupting the break he was taking from cross-examining the files. He had jumped on instinct from the sudden contact. Flushing in embarrassment at the fact someone has seen him act so childishly.

Munakata hadn't seemed phased. He just looked over at the papers scattered on the desk, skimming, scanning. He spoke up in his rather gruff voice.

"They wanted you to read up on the destroyer of Hope’s Peak, right?"

"Uh, yeah…" Sheepishly, Naegi nodded. "This guy had to be awfully messed up to volunteer for something like this."

With a loud click of his tongue, Munakata removed his hand from the boy's shoulder. He backed himself up to the table in which Naegi had been reading at, before lifting himself and sitting on the table. "No person would volunteer for this. He was manipulated by Hope's Peak and allowed despair to swallow him whole."

Naegi sat up in response, awaiting elaboration from the Council President.

"Hope's Peak obviously omitted the full details of what would happen to Hinata Hajime when he signed the contract." Crossing his arms over his chest, Munakata met Naegi's intense gaze with a sigh, sounding almost mad that Naegi couldn't read his thoughts. "Of course, most of the Future Foundation doesn't want you to think that. Hope's Peak academy was never the shining beacon of hope it pretended to be, it's platitudes were just worthless lies told to deceive."

"That's terrible!" Naegi cried, slamming one hand down on the table for emphasis. "Though, now that I think about it it makes a lot of sense that Hinata didn't know everything. But he still orchestrated the first Killing game, right? Why would he have done that?"

"Actually Kamukura Izuru was framed by Enoshima Junko." Munakata sighed in a pompous manner that reminded him all too much of Togami. "Unfortunately, he woefully succumbed to despair, though it was indeed Enoshima who led him down that path. The sheer amount of murder he did go on to later commit proves that in reality he isn't redeemable."

"Framed…? So it wasnt Kamukura who orchestrated the first killing game?"

"Of course not!" The older man hissed. "Do you seriously just believe anything anyone tells you?"

Naegi's breathing hitched in fear as the other slammed his hand down onto the desk with much more intensity than Naegi had earlier. "N-no… I'm sorry…"

Munakata slid back off the table, causing it to groan beneath his weight. "You should be more careful, Naegi Makoto. It's purely luck that that blind trust hasn't gotten you killed yet."

Next thing he knew Munakata was gone with a loud slam of a door. God that guy was hot-headed.

But he was wrong, about Kamukura, that is.

For some reason that experience was all Naegi could think about as he looked at Kamukura's back. Stiff shoulders hidden beneath the black fabric of his uniform, dark hair billowing in the wind. He created such an eerie silhouette against the golden sunset in the background, beautiful, yet filling the other with a sense of trepidation and fear.

The man Naegi had spent the whole day searching for, of course he was in the last place he looked. He could almost sigh at how awful his luck could be sometimes. His feet ached from searching all around Hope's Peak, between all the different labs and even that freaky hidden room beneath the statue of the founder.

"Naegi Makoto. The Super High School Level Hope, also known as the former Super High School Level Good Luck." A monotone voice that sounded too close and too far away all at the same time suddenly broke the silence. "You've come on orders to kill me."

All that trepidation was causing Naegi's hands to shake from how tightly wound up he was. The sound of someone else's voice made him flinch. "H-huh?! You know?"

"Of course I do." Kamukura spoke again, now tilting his head to the side to glance back at Naegi. "It's not that I'm omniscient, I just bear the talent of the Super High School Level Analyst."

It was strange to have his mind read before he even got the thought completely through. Naegi squashed that feeling down, opting to focus on the task at hand.

He cleared his throat, attempting to still his nerves. "If you knew this, why aren't you running?"

"Hm?" Kamukura turned himself around, now offering his complete attention to Naegi.

Naegi shivered under those piercing crimson eyes, they bore an even brighter colour than that of Ishimaru or Celeste's eyes. They seemed to target him and lock on like a rifle, loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice.

"Do you honestly believe that you can kill me?"

The breath seemingly disappeared from Naegi's lungs. He drew his hand over his mouth to muffle the faint whimper that escaped his lips. Kamukura's aura was overwhelming, an aura of pure superiority and death.

This whole situation reminded Naegi of his own execution. The pure despair coursing through his veins. The way Monokuma grinned at him. The loud pounding of the press behind him that shook his body from head to toe.

Ah, that was the sound of his own heart beating uncontrollably.

"My presence is bringing back unfortunate memories for you. I apologise, I am aware that you are not here to actually kill me." As if sensing Naegi's fear, Kamukura spoke slowly and clearly.

The other boy nodded slowly, refusing to take the hand from his mouth as stinging tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes. His blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out all sense, overwhelming him with the pure power that was Kamukura.

Kamukura stepped towards him, a move that startled Naegi more than it probably should have. He stepped backwards in turn, but quickly set his foot down on a small and unstable piece of rubble. Instead of Naegi launching off to run, his ankle rolled at an unnatural angle.

Naegi yelped as he fell forward, his forehead barely grazing the dirtied ground. He quickly rolled over, desperately shuffling backwards and away from the older man whilst attempting not to hurt himself any further.

"Hey, listen to me! Calm down."

His body froze completely upon hearing the command. Kamukura touched his own lips in thought, a little confusion at his sudden break in character. He briefly pondered if his past emotions were through from standing in the classroom of 77-B.

But he deemed the thought unnecessary, for now, instead focusing back on the boy in front of him. "You're here to offer a compromise, are you not?"

Naegi sucked in a quick breath, grateful for the reminder of what he was actually here for. Unfortunately the pain from his ankle was really beginning to set in, he needed to make this brief. Nodding quickly, he attempted to regain his composure. "Yes. I know I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to. But I don't, you deserve a chance at redemption."

"I cannot be redeemed. I was created to be a tool, I have no free will and only act on the orders of others." Kamukura spoke bluntly, tilting his chin up a little. "Your redemption means nothing to me."

Naegi paused. He was expecting this kind of answer, the kind Togami gave him when Naegi said he forgave him for his actions in the killing game.

"Huh? I don't want your forgiveness. My actions are always justified." He had said. The memory brought a little smile to his face.

"Okay then." Tilting his head up, Naegi showed that smile off to Kamukura, as if showing him a sign of peace. "Would you like to know more about Hinata Hajime?"

"The previous inhabitant of this vessel? Why do you believe he would mean anything to me?" It was phrased less like a question, and more like an expression of confusion. As if Kamukura didn't really care about the answer, that he already knew the answer, he just didn't quite understand why Naegi Makoto, of all people, would have any interest.

"Because you're here." Raising his right arm, Naegi gestured vaguely around the room, before wincing and putting it back down. "Why would you come to a classroom full of students you didn't know to replace the flowers for Nanami Chiaki? The girl who was Hinata's best friend, the girl you murdered."

Kamukura's brow furrowed. He began to move in large calculated strides, right up to where Naegi sat, before leaning over him in a display of authority. "So you are smarter than you seem."

It was difficult to tell if it was Kamukura or Naegi who had let down their guard, perhaps a mix of both. But a small detail like that didn't bother Naegi, as his smile only widened beneath Kamukura's attempt of showing power. He had him, that much was obvious.

"Well, Kamukura-kun? Why are you here?"

Kamukura pursed his lips for a moment, thinking to himself for a second, before answering the question. "Because being here makes me feel despair."

He curled his fingers into fists and glanced away briefly, sighing as he realised he would have to answer the inevitable question. "There are a few places in this world where I feel emotions. The classroom of 77-B, the Reserve Course building, and the third floor of the biology building."

"The third floor of the biology building?" As he thought to himself, Naegi unconsciously brought his hand to his chin. "That's oddly specific."

"The neuroscience institute." Kamukura elaborated.

"Oh…" Naegi moved his hand up to his mouth again, feeling a mix of sympathy and horror.

Of course he would feel despair there. After all, that's where Kamukura would have been made, where he would have been tortured and experimented on. Had his brain destroyed and enhanced over and over to produce the perfect hope.

Where Hinata Hajime… died.

"It's an odd feeling, emotions. The emotions I experience from being in these places are perhaps the only reason I'm still here. That and the fact I have nowhere to go, no purpose left in a world without Enoshima." Kamukura began to mumble somewhat as he rambled on.

Jeez, at least let Hinata rest in peace.

Naegi bit back the thought, shaking his head and reminding himself of what he was really here for. "Come with me then. If you want to experience more emotions, then I can show you the Neo World Program."

There was a slow blink as Kamukura processed the offer. "The Neo World Program?"

"Yeah! We put it together using research from the Super High School Level programmer, therapist, and neurologist." Naegi grinned excitedly as if he was talking about how proud he was of his own child. "It's a simulation that allows people to live out peaceful days filled with hope."

Kamukura blinked again. "The Super High School Level Neurologist, Matsuda Yasuke?"

"Yes?"

Those crimson eyes narrowed to near slits. "The childhood best friend and love of Enoshima Junko?"

"...yes?"

"Who developed the method that was used to wipe your highschool memories prior to the Killing Game?"

For a moment Naegi paused, unsure of how to answer that one. "I…guess so?"

Crouching down onto his haunches, Kamukura leaned in even closer to Naegi. "So you are using memory erasing technology then?"

Naegi leaned back a little, uncomfortable as Kamukura's hair brushed against his face. "...Yes."

"And, assuming you're placing all of Enoshima's protégé's in this program, you'll have about 15 students?"

"Yes, if we manage to convince them all..." Naegi's a voice dropped a little, finding himself suddenly a little more insecure about his plan. "I don't mean to interrupt but… where are you going with this?"

Kamukura was almost shocked at how naive Naegi was, especially considering he had been the one to end Enoshima. Or was he just stupid? "I'm merely baffled that you would sacrifice your own health for the sake of people you don't know. People who are murderers."

It wasn't a complete lie, most people would not have such considerations for criminals, people who had committed crimes as heinous as the ones the remnants had committed.

Naegi noted the lack of emotion in his voice. "You don't sound baffled…"

Ignoring his comment, Kamukura nodded. "I'll participate. I'll make sure the others do too."

"Wait, you will?!" Whilst sitting up a little too excitedly, Naegi put pressure on his ankle, sending pain shooting up his leg. He winced and laid back again.

"Don't do that. Your ankle is broken." Letting out a bored sigh, Kamukura straightened himself back up.

"B-broken?!" Naegi's eyes widened to near saucers in shock. "I thought I just twisted it… Am I seriously that unlucky?"

Kamukura began unbuttoning his black uniform jacket, earning a strange look from the other as he slid it off his shoulders. He then proceeded to fold it in half and kneel back down next to Naegi's broken ankle.

The other boy watched in awe as he tied it tightly, using it as a makeshift splint to prevent Naegi's ankle from moving too much. "Y-you're too kind Kamukura-kun… much more so than I anticipated."

"I'm doing this purely out of necessity. Nothing more." Kamukura muttered as he tightened the knot, causing Naegi to hiss in pain. He then proceeded to slide his left arm under the boy's knees and right arm under his back, nestling snugly at the base of his spine.

"Wait wait wait wait wait what are you-?"

Kamukura lifted Naegi up, causing him to wrap his arms tightly around Kamukura's neck in alarm. "Y-you're carrying me?!"

"It's not as though you can walk." Kamukura sighed exasperatedly. He was having no issues with Naegi's weight, his panicked yelling, however…

"B-but I'm heavy…" Naegi refuted, loosening his grip a little when he realised Kamukura wasn't going to hurt him.

"You weigh less than most girls, in accordance with your height." Kamukura spoke bluntly, scanning his eyes over Naegi's form.

"H-Hey!!"

"You're easily flustered."

"Don't tease me!" with the heat rising in his cheeks, Naegi buried his face into Kamukura's chest in hopes of hiding his embarrassment. "I get enough of that from Togami-kun!"

Kamukura shuffled Naegi in order to give himself a more stable hold before walking out of the classroom. Naegi grumbled into Kamukura's chest, pulling himself even closer.

"You're also easily placated. I do not understand how you've managed to survive thus far." Kamukura muttered, seemingly more to himself than Naegi.

"You're not the first one to say that to me." Naegi whispered, voice muffled by Kamukura's shirt.

As tempted as Kamukura felt to further tease Naegi, he decided against upsetting the boy any more than he already had. An emotional fallout would be annoying.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes as Kamukura traversed the stairs of the building, holding Naegi tightly in order to keep him safe.

It was near impossible to speak up over the overwhelming presence of the other, so Naegi remained still and quiet. Kamukura, however, was unafraid of breaking that silence, and suddenly piped up with a question.

"Would the Neo World Program allow me to become somebody else?"

"U-uh...I don't see why not? It might affect the results, however." Mumbling in thought, Naegi tilted his head up to look at Kamukura. "Do you wish to become a different person, Kamukura-kun?"

"Well, I'm assuming you'll try to reverse the despair by reverting us to our pre-despair selves. However, I do not have a pre-despair self." Kamukura dug his fingers slightly into Naegi's shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough for Naegi to see he was distressed. "Well, except for… him."

Naegi pressed his lips together, trying his best not to be too creeped out by Kamukura's ability to predict exactly what was going to happen. "Well, that is what we planned to do. But I thought you were turned to despair by Enoshima?"

"I was turned to spreading despair by Enoshima. However, from the moment I was created, I have been despair. There is no joy in an existence so boring." Musing to himself, Kamukura closed his eyes for a moment, still walking perfectly straight as he did so. "When a human is an expert at everything, there is nothing left to do, no goals left to accomplish. I can predict anything and everything just as it is going to happen. Nothing surprises me, nothing brings me joy. I no longer have the ability to feel human emotions."

"I see, that makes sense… even though it is really sad." Pressing his head closer to Kamukura's chest, Naegi pondered how it must feel to live such a life. He was finding himself rather upset by the prospect.

Even if Kamukura didn't feel any human emotions, and his strength was beyond human, Naegi could hear his heart beating softly in his chest. There was no doubt about the fact he was human beneath that cold exterior.

"You pity me?" Kamukura's tone was rather confused, even curious.

No matter how much he thought about it, Naegi couldn't understand why exactly that warranted such confusion. "I… guess?"

"Even though I bear every talent known to man?"

Naegi shrugged. "It's lonely at the top."

Looking away, Kamukura took a moment to turn the phrase over in his mind. "You're quite intriguing, Naegi Makoto. Taking pity on terrorists and murderers. I wonder, what exactly led you down this treacherous path?"

"H-huh? It's just common human decency…" As he stammered away, Naegi found himself fiddling with his hands against Kamukura's back. "You guys were normal teenagers once, it's not fair that you have to die just because your lives also got ruined by Enoshima."

"Many innocent people have died at both our hands and Enoshima's." It confused Naegi how Kamukura could confess such a thing so casually, so stone-faced. "It is only just that we pay for our crimes."

"That's why it should end here!" Naegi said that a little too loudly, too passionately. He adjusted his tone to be a bit more quiet. "A-And you guys should be allowed to have normal lives too."

Kamukura merely stared blankly ahead, lost in thought. "…You really are just like your sister."

Naegi suddenly gripped the fabric of Kamukura's blazer tightly, pulling himself up a little. "You've met Komaru?!"

"No." The words were curt. "Stop moving."

Naegi was confused enough by the response to decide it was best to stop talking. It seemed his weariness from being on his feet all day was starting to catch up with him, and the warmth from Kamukura's body wasn't helping his situation whatsoever. He allowed his eyelids to rest, relaxing to the tune of Kamukura's heartbeat against his ear and the rock of his movements.

Kamukura found himself most unimpressed by this new burden. This boy had the audacity to not only break his ankle, but was now steadily shifting into REM sleep in his arms. The worst part was that ridiculously soft expression he was making, blushing slightly even in his sleep.

As Naegi mumbled sleepily, he relaxed his arms, opting to move them away from the other's neck and instead have them wrapped around his torso. Kamukura could rouse the boy, but he wouldn't dare.

"Napping in the middle of the apocalypse in the arms of a terrorist?" Kamukura whispered to himself. "You truly are strange, Naegi Makoto."

#Danganronpa #kamuegiweek2020 #Kamuegi #Naegi Makoto #Kamukura Izuru #Ficgiri #Dr #Dr3

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reineyday · 3 years

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bnha characters as volleyball players (au headcanons)

i have never in my life played volleyball outside of gym class and the occasional beach jaunt, so this is all based off of what i learned from haikyuu LOL

anyways, this started as tags from this fanart by @syblatortue of deku, kacchan, kiri, sero, iida and shouto as vball players, and then it got away from me so if you wanna read 2.9k worth of headcanons about powerhouse athletics high school UA then go ahead and press “read more” :)

deku's the calculating setter like kenma and he fanboys over stats from the international to the national to the high school

kacchan used to make fun of him and look down on him bc he used to think too much on court to move properly, and as a kid kacchan used to think that it was spiking or bust so he always gave deku grief and bullied him over being slow and weak

in middle school kacchan was a starter since first year and eventually became the ace but deku was always second string setter

his athleticism was nothing to write home about but he was just good enough to make the bench

in their middle school tournament their starting setter got injured and deku had to step in to set for a match for the first time ever

powerhouse volleyball high school coach yagi toshinori is watching and he sees all the aborted plans in deku's setting choices

he sees the gutsy sets that miss and the one successful dump he did that threw everyone off-guard (even deku himself), and yagi remembers what it was like to be hungry for volleyball seeing the look in this kid's eyes and he recognizes the brain on him

their team loses there though bc the fact is that deku wasnt athletic enough to do it and kacchan is yelling and deku's crying

but yagi approaches deku (who freaks out bc all might is THE legendary vball player of their country, and the nation was SHOOK when after getting severely injured by a malicious spike in the wrong place he chose to coach high school vball, even if the school was a powerhouse school and also his alma mater lol)

but anyways deku babbles and fanboys even through his tears and says he got into UA but he's not sure he can make the vball team, and yagi says he sees the potential in deku's plays and if he trains hard every. single. day. from now until the tryouts at UA, he might make at least the bench

(cue montage)

kacchan is angry to see deku at tryouts and fuckn RAGING when deku more or less keeps up bc deku got buff since their last high school match

unfortunately for kacchan he is actually the one most familiar with deku's playing since they trained together in middle school too, and he almost pops a blood vessel just thinking it but ever since deku started actually being able to get to the ball in time, vball has been more fun ‘cuz the things deku ends up doing are fucking batshit crazy and his sets are begrudgingly his favourite to hit

deku sets right where kacchan can just hit the ball as violently as he can, and it sounds like a bomb goes off when the spike hits the ground

(kacchan also obviously has the best serves and he mixes it up with the power ones like his ap shots, or floaters when he's strategic; he knows how to read the opposing team and either wait or serve really fast and serves up high to blind them like his flashbomb explosions, and he’s really arrogant about his serves but at least he can back it up as per classic kacchan)

anyways they become a really intimidating duo, apart but especially together, because despite the way deku still occasionally cowers from kacchan’s rage and kacchan is often yelling and antagonizing deku, they can read each other really smoothly on court and they match each other really easily, and they both go for the really gutsy shit no one else would think to try (like samu and tsumu going for the freak quick with samu setting kind of gutsy)

kacchan is also antagonizing af and calls the other team extras lol

but yeah, those two along with renown olympic vball player todoroki enji's son shouto are the three most intimidating first years at UA

enji has a very aggressive playing style and where he targets people on the opposing team specifically to make them sweat, makes them feel like he’s hot on their heels even from the other side of the net, always glaring, always strong

shouto hates it and hates the way his dad made him train day in and day out just because he had a good reaction time and instincts for the ball when he was young

fuyumi and natsuo were slow as kids and got immediately dismissed bc of it bc to enji if they werent athletic enough for the ideal vball playing style as children then theyd never be athletic enough to beat all might’s vball career and metrics in the future

touya was fast enough but he overtrained and strained his knees and then continued straining them to play anyways till they were permanently damaged, and by the time he graduated middle school, his doctor put him on orders to never ever ever do anything that might be overly strenuous for his knees ever again

anyways, shouto plays very cool and detached, like even when he spikes the ball right into your face you’ll feel like he wasn’t looking; he’s a middle blocker like suna, stays calm but uses his whole body

deku eventually convinces him that playing with fire every once in a while, especially when he spikes, can be a good thing because at the end of the day, his dad may have taught him the tricks but it’s shouto himself who’s playing, and so it’s not his dad’s style, it’s his own

also the spikes just aren’t as good or as psychologically effective if shouto’s not 100p IN it when he goes to spike one of deku’s demanding sets

and im gonna say shouto is ambidextrous but more comfortable with his left hand in this volleyball au because shouto’s left side is his fire side, and it’s more parallel to the character to make his more aggressive spiking hand his left one but still have him be able to use his left hand for spikes too (it’s also SO stressful for opponents bc angles)

also yes he does indeed only play with his right hand (his ice side) when he gets into UA, and is initially very hellbent on proving to his father that he can become a pro vball player without being as aggressive as enji on court and without using his more dominant hand, the hand that his dad’s been focusing on whenever they trained at home, the hand he’s spent hours and hours spiking and serving with since he was like five years old

one day deku notices shouto’s writing with his left hand and then connects the dots and sort of badgers him into spiking one of his sets with his left hand too and then yeah shouto tells him his life story and deku manages to emotionally coerce him into being okay with his left-handed spikes

(shouto also feels better about it when deku points out the left-handed angles thing)

so yeah that’s the big three scary first year starters: calculating and gutsy deku, who occasionally makes plays so gutsy he’s at risk of twisting one of his limbs in a very scary way (he’s always bruised in weird ass places from volleyball); raging, aggressive but also cunning kacchan, who is undoubtedly the loudest on any court he’s on, and ambidextrous hot and cold shouto, who does a pretty solid general defense with little holes but has scary aggressive spikes

btw shouto’s got a fanclub and they call him the volleyball prince

also at one point they totally play a practice match against shiketsu and UA loses bc inasa starts antagonizing shouto for being exactly like his father (inasa asked for enji’s autograph after a match once when he was a kid and got rudely blown off) and shouto gets offended and starts targeting inasa and then they get outplayed (it was a close match though ‘cuz both of them couldnt get their heads out of their asses and both their teams were suffering as a result)

alrighty, the other players in that fanart lmao!

kirishimaaaaa my dude my bro, super solid libero, always pumps up the team, and his defense is unbreakable! will receive even the scariest, most powerful spikes and smile cheerfully through it; will always insist that you’re manly for playing with everything you have and never letting fear get in the way of going for it

his middle school had a huge and scary substitute gym teacher who didn’t have mercy and spiked hard right to the faces of the students, and kiri really wanted to run forward to receive the spike and yell about how unfair this teacher was but he froze because the spike seemed unforgiving and if he received it wrong, what if his nose broke? what if he fell and broke something from the impact? mina didnt pause though and she received the spike and told off their substitute teacher and then reported it to their homeroom teacher and it was so manly of her, he promised himself he would never hesitate just bc of a scary spike again

btw mina’s all-around athletic and could probably make it onto the girls vball team but she’s probably on the UA dance team (UA is a powerhouse school for many sports, and theyre famous for their athletics department bc they often hire (former) pro-athletes to teach and coach)

iida comes from a family of sprint runners and he’s the one they trust for the most running; he’s their first year decoy and he’s fast af for such a big guy, and he often also provides extra block support from zooming left and right

also enjoys helping out the managers and corralling his team into being good students; he’d offer to tutor kirishima but kiri seems to have fun trying to be friends with bakugou lol; he makes it known that he’s there if kiri wants some extra patience to go along with his studies though

sero guess blocks so accurately people like to say that he’s got tape coming from his elbows, bringing the ball straight to his arms so that he can block; actually he’s pretty known for having weirdly accurate control bumping the ball back from places other than his hands (esp his elbows though), like he’s just so aware of his body, and he uses everything he can to keep the ball off the ground so he’s good at general defense

some other people i wanna mention:

aizawa’s their supervising teacher and the first year homeroom teacher (he gets to hear bakugou explode both first thing in the morning AND right at the end of the day, oh joy); all might just coaches ‘cuz he does other former pro stuff during class time, so he somehow ended up in charge of the volleyball club after the previous teacher stopped being able to

he never went pro but he’s a black belt mixed martial artist, and he still does those parent-child karate classes with hitoshi (who is now close to black belt and on the demo team, since they’ve been doing this since hitoshi was like five) and eri (who just got her yellow belt! aizawa is soft)

only hizashi, nemuri, oboro and his kids know this but he’s also REALLY good at doing aerial silk and he looks graceful af when he does it

hitoshi started kinda learning aerial silk when hizashi took him to a rock climbing place that had the silks on the ceiling (dont at me, there’s a place EXACTLY like this where i used to live lmao) and found out they offer classes there, and hizashi laughed and said “yknow your dad is pro at those right”

ochako is their first year manager, and when everyone is confused about kacchan continuing to call deku something so mean, she talks about how the nickname is cute and gives off the impression that he’s trying his best and when deku grins and blushes and seems to be happy with it, the whole team starts calling him deku with the same intentions and fondness behind it

every time other people hear UA calling their starting setter “deku” theyre so confused

nejire is the third year manager leaving and she does gymnastics and dance outside of school

mirio is the ace and his thing is that he is very strong and very precise, and he moves like he phases through the other players

tamaki is a middle blocker that can adapt all kinds of playing strategies pretty fast as long as he’s got time to digest them and decent food in his stomach—he’s a great decoy ‘cuz his spikes are hard and he’s pretty fast too, and while he prefers read blocking, there are a few times he guess blocks and it’s accurate af and kinda scary honestly

tamaki and mirio are also pretty fearsome ‘cuz people start off scared of mirio’s power spikes and serves (btw his goal is to spike a million service aces LOL), and then tamaki kind of surprises them ‘cuz he seems to be able to just? do everything??? (and theyre extra surprised bc no doubt he’ll be talking himself down and doubting himself before the match and the opponents will think like “oh good he’s mentally weak” and he kind of is but also holy shit??? we got blocked AGAIN???) and so they sort of only keep a peripheral eye on mirio while they start focusing on tamaki, and then all of a sudden mirio’s not where you thought he was and how’d he get there so fast and there other players in the way??? and then mirio spikes one in

this isn’t really related to anything else but you BET mirio can bend low and do insanely accurate bump receives from pretty close to the ground like! his thighs and knees are legend

we don’t really know any second year bnha students, but i’d like to think their starting team isn’t just first years, so i’d say like… hm or mb tamaki is starting setter (all the stuff about adapting and easily digesting strategies still applies, as well as his flexible skillset, it just now includes setting) and mirio is his ace, but all might puts deku in a lot more than you’d expect a bench player to be subbed in not only ‘cuz it shakes up the other team to see such a meek-looking kid do these gutsy-ass sets, but also bc it’s good for tamaki’s mental health that he feels like he’s got a really great setter right there supporting him as well, even though he knows (objectively) that he can hold the fort on his own

so yeah, id say tamaki and mirio for sure starters (mirio is captain), kirishima’s a starter (he’s always been really good, he just used to get a little scared off in matches sometimes, but since the thing with mina, he’s been really gunning for it, and also conveniently their last really good libero graduated the year before and they didn’t really have a good backup), shouto’s a starter (he’s lowkey mad about it bc it feels like he’s fulfilling his dad’s legacy and he doesnt want to be), and probably two second years, that feels fair

bakugou’s benched bc his temper’s still a little too unwieldy for the court (much to his dismay), sero’s still patching up holes in his defense, and deku could stand to watch other people’s playing styles, but u bet theyre all fearsome af when theyre on court: deku seems to be the only one that seems to be able to bring out shouto’s terrifying spikes for now; after their first qualifiers, rumours fly around the vball circuit about his angry pinch server that’s so mad he’s not a regular, he takes it all out on his serves and rip the team that has to try and receive them

well okay, so bakugou is the only that i can qualify as actually fearsome bc even when he’s being intimidating sero is a pretty chill dude, and deku looks too nice to really be scary so the opponents usually arent scared until he starts playing and then for them it’s just this internal monologue of “what the fuck? what the FUCK???”

and sero, while chill, is the type to be aggressively cheerful and grin really wide after he blocks and gives you, the opponent, really supportive feedback that sort of still offends you but in a way you cant refute because every word he said was nice and his demeanour was nice too and yet? you kinda wanna strangle him??? and then he laughs winsomely and blocks your next spike too (like, “awh i noticed you have a tendency to follow here when xyz happens, but better luck next time right? that’s usually a pretty good play”)

and of COURSE their school banner says “plus ultra”

ANYWAYS i went OFF lmao i can’t believe i really wrote 2.9k of headcanons for this

i have waaaay more ideas about what the rest of the class and other characters are up to in this au that is powerhouse athletics high school UA so if for some reason you got all the way to the end then thank you and please interact if you wanna talk more about it!!!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha headcanons #mha #my hero academia #mha headcanons #haikyuu fusion #sort of #rei rambles #rei writes #(sort of)#it was fun trying to parallel their quirks to their vball playing style haha

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dkscribe88 · 3 years

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Tavronica Week Prompt 7: AU

And now, for my final entry for this year’s first annual Tavronica week. I decided to set it in modern times. They’re still on Thra and still Gelfling, but they’ve adopted a way of life similar to humans, including going to college and playing sports, such as ice hockey. Tavra is team captain, single, and focused on helping her team win the final game of a tournament against their rivals, lead by Tolyn. Onica is a Psychology student who recently became single and is dragged to the game by her best friend, Tae. Tavra always seemed like she would be a jock if she were real, and the only sport I really ever played was ice hockey, so I decided to write her playing it. I hope you like this last fic. It’s been a blast writing for this event, and I’m proud to say I met my challenge of 7 prompts for 7 days. Can’t wait to do it all again next year! So now, sit back and enjoy my final entry for this year. Beware, it’s the longest one yet.

The roar of the crowd was deafeningly loud throughout the halls of Ha’rar State University’s hockey stadium. Flooded with fans of both the home team, the Ha’rar State University Fighting Paladins, and visiting rivals, the Sami Thicket University Landstriders; the atmosphere was tense. It was the finals of a two-day tournament. Both top seeded teams played two games the day before, easily routing their opponents. Their head-to-head battle had always been assured, the latter two games merely a formality. Both teams stared daggers at each other whenever the Paladins locked eyes with a Landstrider. There’s bad blood between these rivals, the wound freshly opened after what had transpired a few hours before…

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Earlier in the day, the home team had arrived two hours before they were to hit the ice, hoping to do some warmup exercises in their locker room before suiting up, only to discover that the whole place had been destroyed. Bags had been dumped out, equipment strewn randomly throughout the room, and jerseys were being soaked by the showers. Their hockey sticks were no longer in the racks, and no one would have found them, had the team not experienced this sort of attack before. The Paladin’s team captain, defenseman Tavra just sighed before casting her gaze upwards, confirming that the sticks were indeed glued to ceiling.

“Sheesh, they could’ve at least come up with a more original way of wrecking our stuff. C’mon guys, cleanup positions. Ready? Go!” The team quickly got to work straightening things, accomplishing their tasks efficiently, having done so many times before. They kept a scraper and a bottle of nail polish remover taped under one of the benches for occasions such as this, which easily dissolved the super glue. It took a little longer to get everything back in order this time though, as the Landstriders had taken the time to remove the tape from their sticks before gluing them. It was a tedious task, retaping everything, but Tavra and her crew knew everything needed to be perfect, or they wouldn’t stand a chance. STU’s captain, Tolyn the Terrible, did his best to crush anyone that stood in his way, using any means necessary. The Landstriders led the league in both penalties and player ejections. They’d already given four different Gelfling concussions, ending the player’s seasons early, and in one case, ending it for good, the injury so severe it caused brain damage, forcing the player off the team and out of school altogether.

Forty minutes later, the locker room was back in usable condition. Tavra took her place in front of her team.

“Alright! Everyone get in line for warmups. First, we stretch, then after that 20 jumping jacks. When I say go. Ready? GO!”

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Meanwhile, at the campus dorm rooms…

“C’mon, Onica! It’ll be fun, I promise. The game is going to be great and there’s gonna be a sick afterparty, with lots of hot gelfs for us to hit on, so let’s go, please? You need a new girlfriend, or at least someone to take your mind off Effiny and I need to get my flirt on. It’ll be good for you to get out.” Tae had been trying to convince her friend to attend the game with her for the last few hours, not wanting to go by herself.

“But I’ve got that test coming up for my Developmental Psychology class and I haven’t even studied for it yet.” Tae rolled her eyes.

“You’ve never had to study for any of your Psych classes before. You know every bit of that material frontwards and backwards, sideways, diagonal and upside down. If that’s your best excuse my victory is assured.”

“But I won’t even be able to get into the afterparty. You have to know someone on the team to attend and I don’t, so I see no reason to go.” Tae refused to give up.

“That doesn’t matter! I told you, I know the goalie. Zili promised that if we showed up, she’d get us in. Zili’s a bit weird, which she claims is a common trait amongst goalies, but she’s also true to her word. Please, I don’t want to go alone.” Tae had been nice so far, but it was time to pull out her secret weapon. She kneeled down next to Onica’s chair, lower lip jutting out in a pout, eyes turned up in a begging fashion, glistening with small tears in their corners. Onica had to give her style points for being able to cry on demand. She tried to turn away, but there was no escaping the power of the fizzgig pout. Unable to fend off the adorably cute assault any further, Onica let out a groan.

“Ugghhh! Okay, fine! I’ll go. But you owe me. More than one.”

“Yes!” Tae jumped up, giving her roommate and best friend a hug. “Thank you so much, Oni! There’s this new guy on the team, Galen, and Zili’s promised to help me get a chance to talk to him. Oh, I can’t wait for you to see him, he’s so dreamy. He’s tall, and Sifa, like us, with some Spriton and Vapra mixed in. He’s got beautiful tanned skin and dark hair with little bits of silver here and there, ooh-hoo-hoo just the thought of him makes me quiver!” Onica gave her friend a look of disbelief and slight disgust.

“Sounds like a creep if you ask me.”

“No! No, he’s not, actually. Zili said he’s really kind and soft spoken most of the time. When he does talk, he’s so deep, and he’s got a great sense of humor, too.” Onica smiled at her then, reassured of Tae’s choice to pursue this guy.

“I can’t wait to meet him, then. I hope you find happiness this time Tae. I’d hate for you to be stuck with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.” Onica’s face turned slightly sullen, then. Tae put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you talking about Effiny? Onica, that girl has serious issues with where her priorities lie. She didn’t know what she had, being with you. But soon, Onica, someone will come along who loves you for you, I’m sure of it. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet them tonight. So, come on. To the game!” Tae jumped into a pose, pointing dramatically towards the door. Onica gave a small laugh, before getting up and ready for the night’s activities.

The two young women made it to their seats as the two teams warmed up on the ice, each circling around their zone, while some fired pucks at the goalie, who easily blocked them all, giving Zili a confidence boost to start off with. Tavra was gliding along on her skate’s edges, keeping an eye on her own players, looking for signs that each was ready, and smirking when she found they were. She got in line to shoot then, firing right from the line in a slapshot, typical of her defensive position. She’d placed a spin on the puck, causing it to look as if it were warping in the air as it curved toward Zili’s glove side. Tavra nearly got it in, but at the last second, Zili’s eagle eyes tracked it and she caught it neatly in her mitt.

“Nice try, Captain! Maybe next time, yeah?” Zili teased her. Tavra smacked her stick against the goalie’s pads affectionately before gliding off to the back of the line, only to freeze as a sinister gaze met her own.

“Tolyn,” she whispered bitterly. The big jerk was Spriton, tall and strong, or in Tolyn’s case brutish. The sound of ice being carved sounded from behind her, letting Tavra know her two assistant captains had her back.

“That guy almost makes me ashamed to be Spriton.” Kylan muttered, glaring with all he had at the man, who only sneered back.

“Don’t let him get to you Kylan. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you this time. I’d never hear the end of it from my brother if I did.”

“You’re damn right about that, Naia.” Another player had joined the assistant captains.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, Gurjin. You ready to rumble?” Naia asked her brother.

“Oh, you know it. Gotta get revenge for them breaking my poor Ky Guy’s arm.” Suddenly, the scoring siren went off, signaling the players to leave the ice as it’s resurfaced in preparation for the game’s start. The Paladin’s gathered once more into their locker room. Tavra, Kylan and Naia stood up front as everyone else kneeled, waiting to hear some inspiring words from their captain.

“Ok, we’ve got a tough game ahead of ourselves here, people. We know just as much as anyone else that the Landstriders don’t fight fair. Expect attacks from all sides and keep your guard up. Their goalie is weak on their stick side, so do your best to aim at the space between the arm and torso, as well as high on her right side. Stay away from that glove hand, it’s too good. Now raise your swords, gelfs…” Everyone’s sticks rose in the air. “Brave paladins of HSU, are you ready to defend yourselves, your honor, and your school?” The team let out their best roars of approval. “Are we ready to face the beasts in battle, skate blades sharpened, sticks taped?” Another roar resounded throughout the room. The coach signaled for the group to head out for introductions.

“Ok gelfs, charge!” The Paladins stormed out of the locker room, cheering wildly, though it was completely drowned out by the outrageously raucous crowd. The visiting team was just getting finished with their introduction.

“And, at center, the Landstrider’s leading scorer and captain of the team, number 66, Tolyn!” Loud boos overwhelmed any cheers there might have been for the Spriton center, causing him to shake his stick angrily at his many detractors.

“And now, the roster of our very own home team, the Ha’rar State University Fighting Paladins!” The crowd cheered loudly in response. “For the tertiary line, at left wing it’s number 86, Mira!” A thin Vapra girl quickly skated out on the ice, waving to her fans. “On right wing we’ve got number 18, Deet!” A Grottan girl and Rian’s girlfriend skated over to bump gloves with Mira. “And at center, number 8, the incomparable Rian!” The Stonewood skated out strong, charming all the ladies as he waved to the crowd. “For our secondary offensive line, we’ve got our newest player, number 45, Galen!” A Spriton, taller than both Kylan and Tolyn skated reservedly onto the ice. “Coming in on right wing like a thief in the night, it’s number 13, Periss!” The youngest of the team, a Dousan boy with a rakish attitude glided out, taking bows and throwing kisses as he went. “And, at center, number 7, Bold Gurjin!” The great oaf was light as a feather as he slid past his teammates, giving Kylan’s helmet an affectionate smack as he passed him. “And now for our secondary defenseman. On the right, give it up for number 3, Brea!” Tavra’s younger, bookish sister skated calmly into place, absorbing any information she could about her enemies. “And on the left, it’s number 69, ladies let out a cheer for Rek’yr!” The tattoo-faced man skated grandly into place, blowing kisses to his many lady followers, who screamed in response, one of them fainting.

“And now, everybody give it up for our starting roster. On left wing, we’ve got number 4, the mysterious and shadowy Amri!” Amri had already snuck into his place in line at this point. “On right wing, number 32, our ever-melodious Kylan!” The lanky Spriton skated calmly into place, doing his best not to be intimidated at the sight of Tolyn pretending to slash his throat, the universal bully sign for ‘you’re dead meat’. “And at center, number 17, it’s Fierce Naia!” Naia charged onto the ice, letting out a growling war cry as she bumped gloves with all her teammates, nearly knocking some of them over in her zeal. “And starting for the defense, we’ve got number 49, Ellis!” A Vapra senior a few years older than Tavra skated out. “And don’t forget his partner, your favorite player and mine, that devastating lavender tornado, the Tremendous Tavra!” The crowd got even louder somehow as Tavra regally entered the rink, smiling at her comrades and looking disdainfully over at her opponents. “And last, but certainly not least, that eccentric and crazy girl you know and love, the goalie, number 00, Zili!” Zili skated out powerfully in her heavy goalie pads, ready to protect and defend her net with all she had.

“Whoo! Yeaaayuhh, let’s do this!” Zili riled up the crowd even more, forcing the officials to wait several minutes until things died down to start. The Skarith Land’s flag was lowered down over the rink by wires, as the country’s national anthem played. Once it was over, the teams headed for their respective benches while the captains of each team came and shook hands. Tavra took her hand out of her glove, offering it to Tolyn, who merely scoffed at it and took off to his own bench. Tavra looked at Kylan and Naia.

“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.” The three skated over to their team, who were being given a last-minute pep talk by Coach Madso.

“Alright, lads and lassies, get out there and follow the plan. Don’t let them goad you into penalties we can’t afford. Stay onside, and for Thra’s sake, protect each other. We don’t need anymore broken arms, right Kylan?”

“Y-Yes sir!”

“OK!” Tavra barked. “Sticks in!” Everyone gathered in a circle, sticks placed in the middle, pointed downward. “Paladins on three! One, two, three-”

“PALADINS!” With that, the other lines went to the bench and the starters to their places. The referee checked to make sure each goalie was ready, and the centers faced off. The puck is dropped, and the game begins!

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It’s late in the third period. Both teams are exhausted from holding each other to a standstill. Neither had scored so far, and the crowd was getting restless with tension. Back and forth across the ice they raced. Naia had the puck on a small breakaway, Kylan assisting her as they passed the flat black object between each other, desperate to keep it away from the Landstriders. Suddenly, Kylan got pinned to the boards as he tried to dig the puck out from the edge of the rink. The enemy player’s skate kept blocking his stick and he couldn’t twist his body the right way to get it. What Kylan didn’t see was that across the rink, Tolyn had locked onto him. He charged, barreling straight at the unwary Spriton. But just as he was about to slam the music major into the boards, something tripped him from behind. He landed flat on his face, sliding hard into the boards from his momentum. A whistle was sounded, stopping play.

“Number 17, Paladins, two minutes, tripping.” It didn’t matter that Naia had stopped Tolyn from breaking Kylan’s clavicle, she got stuck with the penalty. Now they were one gelf down, on a powerplay in the Landstrider’s favor, at the very end of the game. They only needed to last two minutes, but with Tolyn lurking out on the ice, it might as well have been two trine. Coach Madso called timeout, gathering his brave Paladins to his benchside.

“Alright my soldiers, this is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna hold the line as best we can. I need Gurjin on right, Deet, you’re on center. Use any tricks you’ve got to be in front of that net. Tavra, Brea, you’re in at D. Tavra, you’ve got the fast slapshot. Everyone else, get the puck into the Landstrider zone, and then get it to Tavra. She and Deet will do the rest. Are we clear?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Paladins on three. One, two, three-”

“PALADINS!” The selected players went to their spots. Deet took the faceoff. When the puck dropped, Tolyn made to tackle the small Grottan to the ground, but when he aimed high, she went low, ducking beneath his arms and skating away with the puck. Gurjin plowed through his opponent, flanking Deet on the right. Tavra and Brea trailed behind, stopping just inside the Landstrider blue line. They skated circles in place, watching the puck bounce back and forth between Gurjin and Deet, trying to thwart their attackers and draw them away from the net so Tavra could get a clear shot. The clock began to wind down. The two-minute penalty passed and Naia quickly skated to the bench, where she was replaced by Amri, who drove hard into the occupied zone to help Gurjin and Deet. Deet passed to Gurjin, who was immediately dogged by Tolyn and his right wing, Lun. Pinned against the boards, all Gurjin could do was kick his leg, which he did, successfully knocking the puck along the boards and over to Amri, who slipped and slid around his attacker like a snake through wet grass. His ears perked as he heard Coach Madso cry out.

“Hey! Get it to Tavra! She’s open! Ten seconds left! Make the pass, Amri!” Amri whipped around, searching for his teammate. Tavra was in shotgun position, ready to take aim as soon as she’s given ammo. Amri flicked the puck over to her. She barely stopped it before pulling her stick back and firing it hard through the air and over the center of the ice. The goalie reached for it…It’s…It’s…CLANG! It’s deflected! But what’s this? SMACK!

The crowd waited with bated breath. Tavra stared forward, dropping to her knees.

Wee-Ooh! The scoring siren finally sounded. It’s good! Deet had indeed been waiting, and when the puck glanced off the post, she was right there with the rebound. Her teammates suddenly surrounded her, giving a group hug and patting her hard on the back, screaming they’d won. Tavra, still on her knees, looked upward, not trusting the scoreboard. It was 1-0 Home, and the clock had one tenth of a second left. The following faceoff was just a formality, as the clock ran out and the siren sounded once more, signaling the end of the game, and of the tournament. Trophies were handed out in a ceremony before everyone started to head home. But, just before the team left the ice, Gurjin shouted to the crowd:

“Victory party at Gyr Hall!” Cheers were heard as they departed to the locker room to shower and change before heading to the party. Tavra took her time cleaning up, in no rush for the festivities. All she wanted was to enjoy the energy rush she’d gotten from a game well-played. But, as team captain, she was obligated to go, at least, that’s what Naia and Gurjin said. Kylan gave her an out, but he was quickly overruled by Rian and Deet, so Tavra had no choice. She would socialize, whether she wanted to or not.

-------

“Tae, do we have to go to this thing? All that crowd noise gave me a headache.” It was Onica’s last-ditch effort to escape the party. Tae just rolled her eyes.

“You’re fine. Don’t be such a drama queen. Besides, Zili knows we’re here, we can’t just walk out on her. There she is, Zili! Over here, girl!” After meeting up with the goaltender, who was just as weird as Onica had heard, Zili escorted them over to Gyr Hall and the party held within. The voices of others were all that was heard within the crowded dorm hall. The music was still being set up, but Gurjin kept interfering to flirt with Kylan, who was in charge of tunes. Zili moved passed them, searching for the boy Tae wanted to meet with. Galen was finally spotted talking to Amri, joining them when Zili called him away.

“Alrighty. Galen, this is Tae. Tae, Galen. Ok, let’s see some love sparks fly. Go on, you two. Scoot!” The two walked off, Tae apologizing to Onica for leaving her there with her eyes. Onica sighed lightly, she knew this would happen. She opted to plop down on a vacant couch, people watching to pass the time. Twenty minutes went by, during which Onica grabbed herself a beer from a nearby cooler. She sipped the bitter liquid slowly, not desiring a buzz, but merely drinking it as something to do. Just as she’d talked herself into grabbing one more, there was shouting coming from the front street. Changing her mind on the drink, the redhead decided to see what was going on.

A tall Gelfling of Spriton descent stood in front of a group of students, some of which Onica recognized as being part of the Landstrider’s roster. They’d had their helmets off when receiving their second-place trophy.

I guess that means the one in front is Tolyn. Not the most attractive of team captains, is he…Onica thought, watching the scene unfold. More shouting was then heard coming from the dorm’s side entrance, before a group of Paladins emerged, a beautiful silver and lavender haired woman at their head. And that must be Tavra. What an attractive Silverling. Perhaps Tae was right. Maybe I should find someone else. Tavra stepped right up in Tolyn’s face, not backing down.

“This is a private engagement, my good Landstriders. Please leave, before things get ugly.” The cracking of knuckles reinforced her words, Naia’s fists providing the sound effect. Tolyn just gave a cocky grin.

“Aww…is the big, brave Paladin afraid one of us Landstriders are gonna hurt one of her friends again? By the way, Ky, how’s the arm?” Kylan grabbed his forearm, defensively pulling it to his chest.

“I-It’s fine.” Gurjin stepped in front of his boyfriend.

“Leave him be, Tolyn. You touch him, and I won’t stop at just your arm.” Kylan grabbed Gurjin before he did something foolish, attempting to calm him down. Tolyn just scoffed.

“Tch! You need to keep a better leash on your Drenchen mutt, Tavra. Kylan betrayed his own, so he’s fair game to us.”

“Oh, my Thra, he changed schools! There’s no betrayal in that. STU didn’t have a music program, so he switched. You can’t fault him for that.” Naia jumped in, standing next to her brother and further blocking Kylan from Tolyn’s wrath.

“I take back what I said,” Tolyn paused. “It looks like you’ve got two Drenchen dogs you need to teach discipline to. You really got your work cut out for you, don’t ya, Katavra.” Tavra flinched at the use of her full name. Only her mother called her that, and when it happened, it wasn’t going to be good. Tavra stared at Tolyn coldly.

“Just leave, Tolyn. You’ve had your fun. Enough is enough.” Tavra turned, attempting to end the incident, but Tolyn wasn’t of the mind to leave. Onica watched as he snuck up behind her back.

“Oh, no. H-Hey! Tavra, look out!” Onica’s warning came too little too late, as Tolyn turned Tavra by her shoulder, only to haul back and hit her right on the jaw with a sickening crack. The poor woman was knocked off her feet, saved from hitting the ground by Gurjin, as Naia charged forward with the rest of the team in retaliation. A fight broke out, the Paladins easily outwitting and out-brawling their opponents, only to chase after them as they tried to retreat. Gurjin had left Tavra with Onica, who had approached to see if she could help. The Drenchen charged into the melee, flinging Landstriders left and right. Brea came over to where her sister lay with a washcloth and ice, handing them to Onica before grabbing her phone to call campus police. The Sifa placed the ice gently to Tavra’s already swelling jaw. The dazed Silverling gazed up at her, a strange smile spread across her face.

“Hmm…I must be dead…” Onica looked at her oddly.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve got a beautiful, red-haired angel taking care of me. If this isn’t paradise, I don’t know what is.” Onica chuckled at the rather forward-speaking Vapra.

“Well, I’m afraid this isn’t paradise, but if you’d like, I can care for you a little while longer.” Tavra smiled at her, before suddenly pulling her in for a dazed and clumsy kiss. Onica pulled back, blushing wildly.

“I’d really like that. My name is Tavra. And what is the name of the gorgeous angel that’s caring for me, if you don’t mind my asking.” Onica blushed even further, beguiled by the Vapra girl’s charms.

“I’m-uh…I-I’m Onica.” Tavra took her hand, holding it up to her lips for a kiss nearly missing it because of her dizziness.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear lady Onica. I hope we can get to know each other better, that is, once my jaw stops hurting so much. *Groan* Coach is going to be so mad at me if I can’t practice tomorrow.” Onica placed a gentle hand to the uninjured side of Tavra’s face.

“Lucky for you, my hobbies include learning traditional Sifa herbal Less side effects than regular medications. And I guarantee you’ll be up and skating by tomorrow. Now, let’s get you up and into bed.” Onica helped Tavra to her feet, the Vapra swinging an arm around the other girl’s shoulders.

“You’ve known me less than ten minutes, and already you’re trying to get me into bed. My, my, don’t you work fast.” Onica rolled her eyes, but still laughed quietly.

I think I’m beginning to like this girl. With that last, lingering thought, the two walked unsteadily into the dorm, and into a wonderful new relationship.

-DK

#tavronica week 2021 #tavra #onica #gurjin #naia #amri #kylan #tae #brea #periss #rek'yr #deet #rian #mira #gelfling OCs #ice hockey #college

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elladescent449-artspace · 3 years

Text

It started with the Milk: Chapter 3 - Hysteria and Cream

This was worse. This was so much worse.

Maybe it was the echoing boom from a crack of thunder, or maybe it was the cold sweat, either way, Leo woke up with a tight throat and irritated skin. He inhaled sharply with a whine, forcing himself into a seated position as he tapped around blindly for his phone. He felt the cool case under his finger pads and dragged it across the sheets before weakly flipping it over. Leo flinched when the bright screen blinded him, but he blinked out the pain and stared until the numbers on the screen came into view. He groaned. 2:57 am. Leo flipped the phone back over and flung it across the sheets, he didn’t care when he heard it hit the floor. That’s what the case is for. He plopped back onto his shell and took a deep breath. Then he took another. And another. The rain was back in full force this evening. It was a lot louder than it had been the previous night, and although it helped calm his brain down, it did nothing for his body. Pinpricks erupted on his skin, it was too hot and too cold all at the same time. He turned over, but nothing felt right as he tossed and turned on his mattress. He threw the blanket off of himself and he heard it float to the floor. The naked air felt better against his skin and shell, but it wasn’t enough.

After what happened in the game room, Leo spent the rest of the afternoon skateboarding. Mikey and Raph had attached themselves to their father asking about old recipes and making plans, and while he had seen Donnie walk into his lab, he didn’t see him after that. Leo spent the first hour just practicing on the vert-ramp, but once he got tired of that he took to traveling the sewers. The rain had subsided for mid-day, but the damage to the city’s water system had already been done. Leo had nowhere in particular that he wanted to go, so he had skated all the way to Queen’s checking out the flood rooms. The rainfall, along with the city's usual expected water usage, had caused a major amount of flooding, some routes had been completely blocked off by rivers of sewage. The flood rooms were almost filled to capacity, but seemed to be holding fine. Leo had expected for there to be a worse smell, but thanks to the rainfall the smell wasn’t as bad as usual.

Leo was grateful for the alone time, besides giving him the assurance that his home wasn’t about to be twenty feet under raw sewage, it gave him an opportunity to think. The little voice in his head was giving him less and less reasons to believe that exhaustion was the only reason that Donnie was acting… off. Sure, he was up late, but 120 points. 120 points? He never, ever, dropped below 75% of the score possibility. Leo remembered Donnie remarking about his average score, ‘my room for error will never exceed past 25% in order for me to achieve a consistent rate of success,’ whatever that meant. Leo was able to paraphrase that into, ‘I know that my score won’t be perfect, but I’m not a noob to dance.’ Then there was the water bottle, none of the boys were exactly fans of backwash, but Donnie was especially that last person that Leo would expect to just want some of your water. As Leo rolled through the city’s massive pipes, he couldn’t stop going over the whole scene. Donnie’s eager mannerism to dance wan’t off character, but the way his eyes flickered to the water bottle before they even started dancing. Then there was the super low score and the lack of exhaustion after playing DDR’s most difficult song, it’s like he wasn’t even trying in the first place. Then there was that last moment, not just asking for the water, but the way he looked when Leo wouldn’t take it back. The stare was blank, it was hollow, like no-one was home. Leo had returned home right before dinner, where he, Mikey, Raph, and Dad ate the rest of the Chinese leftovers. Donnie had made his appearance just as they had finished, but Leo didn’t stick around.

He sighed into his hands, the pressure against his eyes had helped, but not as much as he had hoped. Leo slowly dragged himself out of bed, growling in irritation when he nearly tripped over his fallen blanket.

He knew he might be a little peeved, but he chose Dad’s barley tea this time around. After flicking on the burner and pulling the kettle forward, he zoned out while the water boiled. Leo grasped the teabag loosely as he stared at the blue flames. They waved gently in the dark kitchen, illuminating not only the kettle, but it also created a ghost of the stove. With a sigh, Leo folded his arms and closed his eyes. Warmth radiated from the stove and he just stopped thinking. The blackness and the warmth was enough for him to psychologically melt, so he let it happen. He didn’t feel sleepy anymore, he felt tired. Last night was a joke in comparison to this. His weight pulled his skeleton down to the floor and every breath that Leo took was a full body effort that made him even more exhausted with every intake. He wanted to crawl on top of the table, or maybe slip himself into the oven and rest but he knew that that wouldn’t be any better than his own bed.

The whistling of the kettle brought him back. After switching the heat to low he realized that he didn’t have a mug. Chewing toasted barley kernels and drinking boiling water straight from ‘Old Skully’ didn’t sound fun, so Leo left the bag on the counter to quietly rifle through the cabinets. It was Donnie’s turn to do the dishes tonight, so of course there weren't any clean mugs left. With a grumble, Leo quietly picked a random mug from the dishwasher and turned the sink on to its lowest setting, scrubbing quietly at the inside and rim. ‘At least that hasn’t changed,’ Leo involuntarily laughed at the thought. He was right, Donnie never did the dishes when asked unless it was some new attempt at tech. He cut the laugh short though, he didn’t want to think about Donnie right now.

After a quick rinse he walked the dripping mug back to the stove and dropped the bag in. He poured the (thankfully) still boiling water into the cup and walked to the kitchen table.

Leo sat down with a sigh. The steam from his mug glided over his face and he stared at the small blue flames on the stove. If it wasn’t for the aching exhaustion, Leo might have mistaken this moment for a dream. He stared a bit longer until the chill of the evening brought him back to center. Leo picked his tea up and brought it to his face. The tea was a bit more bitter than he would’ve liked, but the toasted, nutty flavor more than made up for it. Instead of his usual sipping, he swallowed gently, he didn’t want to disturb the moment with noise.

There were gaps that lasted minutes between each swallow. He would drink, stare at the stove, and repeat. Leo didn’t want to think about anything right now, his brain was bouncing between a heavy fog and the start of a headache. When he ran out of tea he would walk back to the stove and do a refill, he used the same bag again the first time, but the tea wasn't’ as god when he reused the bag so he began changing it every time after that.. Yeah. Dad was going to be irritated.

As good as the tea was, and as great as the warmth in his stomach felt, it didn’t relax him. He still felt sore, he still felt tired, and he still felt irritated. He lost track of how much tea he drank. When his hand felt the empty bottom of the mugicha box, he felt a pang of regret that was quickly stifled by his need for more tea. He had to refill the kettle, but after a quick boil he started back on the sleepytime.

A distant snap pulled him out of his tea frenzy. He froze. When the snap was followed by a clatter he sat his mug down. He flicked off the stove before sneaking into the common room. Leo hesitated when he saw Donnie’s lab illuminated, but when another noise sounded, he knew that it came from deeper in their home.

He stuck to the shadows as he entered the garage. The turtle tank’s lights were on and he could see the bottom hatch ajar, a shadow danced as something was moving on the inside. He didn’t have his sword. With a quick scan he could see an open toolbox by the back tire of the tank. He snuck over quietly, hesitating when another clang (although quieter than the first) struck the floor from the inside, when he heard nothing else Leo took the largest wrench.

He slid beneath the tank and jumped through the hatch, recovering into a standing position and falling into a fight stance.

Despite his vision being blurred from exhaustion, it wasn’t hard to tell who it was. “Mikey?”

Mikey flinched and turned with the most guilty look on his face. In one hand he grasped a glue stick, and in the other he held the handle of the soft-serve ice cream machine. “Don’t tell Donnie.”

Leo broke out of his fight stance with only a slight stumble and rubbed his temples with a sigh. After a heavy pause, “Mikey, I thought you were a burglar or something…” Leo threw the wrench down with a heavy clang. “What are you doing at-” he looked over his shoulder at the clock in the dashboard and groaned, “4:30 in the morning?”

“I- I wanted some ice cream,” he hesitantly stated with a stutter before breaking into a full ramble. “I woke up a few minutes ago and after talking all day and eating dinner I forgot to have dessert so I woke up and I just really wanted something sweet and I know that donnie just added marshmallow and creamsicle flavor so I thought I’d just come in here real quick and grab some but then the handle wouldn’t go down and I thought “ok I guess i’ll pull a little harder” and then it just SNAPPED in my hands! I got the glue, and it’s my favorite glue stick because it’s worked on everything so far, even dad’s favorite mug, but now the handle won’t stick and I-” As much as Leo loved Mikey, he had to start tuning his voice out or Leo was going to have to start running. Leo stepped over to the machine and looked over to where the metal had snapped.

He cut Mikey off with a snicker. “You forgot to remove the lock before you pulled the lever, dum-dum.” He took the glue stick from Mikey’s hand and capped it, Leo knew that a measly kiddie glue stick wasn’t going to do anything.

“Don’t tell Donnie.” Mikey dropped back down to a whisper, “please don’t tell Donnie you know how he gets about his tech!” Leo took the lever out of Mikey’s hand and lined it up with the break, if they lined it up just right and added a bit of silver paint, they might be able to hide the break from Donnie for a while. “Stop laughing Leo!”

Leo tightened his lips trying to stifle his giggles, “why did you keep pulling on it?”

Mikey hugged himself subconsciously and rocked on his heels, “I thought it would work!”

“So you thought pulling harder on a thing that doesn’t want to go down would work?”

“It works for Raph!” Mikey’s voice rose again in a shout.

Leo folded his arms with a scoff, “Raph pulling harder is the reason we don’t have a microwave anymore.”

Mikey put his face in his hands and groaned, “Donnie’s going to be so mad!” He began pacing in a tight circle.

“Mikey,” Leo reached for his younger brothers shoulder and pulled him into a loose side-hug, “chillax bro, a little glue, a little time, and a silver sharpie will fix this thing right up.”

“The glue didn’t work,” Mikey whined, dragging his hands down his face and pulling at his eyelids.

“Better glue, Micheal,” He waved the glue stick in front of Mikey before chucking it behind them both. Leo hugged him a little tighter and smiled a little wider, “not your grade school craft glue.”

Mikey whined nervously and looked between Leo and the broken lever that he held in his hands, “you really think we can hide it from Donnie?”

Leo covered his mouth for a quick yawn. “Of course, Mikey,” he said softly, “now let’s find some glue.”

With a few minutes and a quick trip into Raph’s craft box, they had collected a small array of different sticky materials. Mikey set them messily on the counter next to the soft-serve machine.

They tried the white craft glue first, but that just dripped down the sides and wouldn't hold when they let go. The fabric glue was a little more discreet, as it was completely clear, but even after holding it for twenty minutes, the handle fell to the floor with a bang. Next was the glue gun.

Despite Donnie’s absolute genius he had neglected to put any normal outlets on the turtle tank, so Leo had to skulk back into the dim garage,and quietly dig for a power cord. Leo crawled back through the bottom hatch carrying a daisy chain of six power cords that he had to assemble together. Mikey got the glue-gun ready.

“Let’s see if this one will work,” Leo smiled, trying to stay positive as he handed Mikey the cord. “One of these has gotta work,” Mikey plugged the gun in and tapped his foot impatiently as it heated on the counter, “Donnie was so proud of this.”

Leo chuckled as he leaned against the counter, “don’t worry,” he yawned as he spoke teasingly, “worse case scenario, I’ll just grab the duct tape and blame it on Raph.”

Mikey pouted but said nothing as he sat down with a thump. It was quiet again.

“Speaking of Donnie…” should he even be talking to Mikey about this?

Mikey groaned at the name. He leaned his head against the wall of the turtle tank, “the ice cream maker was his sixth favorite part of the tank, he’s gonna kill me~” he moaned.

“Every part of the tank is Donnie’s favorite part.” Leo chuckled, but the gravity of his question kept it from being sincere. “Have you noticed anything…” Leo rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, hesitating to finish his question, “off about him lately?”

“Off how?” Mikey scoffed.

“It’s not serious, it’s just… earlier today we played DDR… and he lost.”

Mikey giggled. “He usually loses Leo, we’ve got too much razzmatazz for ‘em.”

“Well of course he lost to me considering that i’m an amazing dancer,” Leo grinned, but he couldn’t keep it as he continued, “but his score was only 120.”

“That’s pretty low, for Donnie”

“I know!”

Mikey hummed with a smile. “Why are you worried about it? Number 3.”

Leo ignored the tease. “Well, it’s not just that,” he remembered the water bottle, “he drank after me.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, and at breakfast did you see him drink his coffee?”

“Uh,” Mikey scoffed and leaned his face on his hand as he looked up at Leo, “he has coffee like, every minute of the day?”

“He put milk in it!” Leo rubbed his eyes trying to wipe out some of the drowsiness that was clouding his vision.

“So?”

“This is Donnie! He doesn’t put milk in his coffee!” Leo’s voice rose unintentionally.

“He drinks pumpkin spice Latte’s sometimes.”

“It’s April!” Leo guffawed as he brought his hands up to accentuate his point. Donnie didn't like that they knew about his love affair with fall flavors, but that was the only time he changed his preference. Leo continued to carp, “Donnie’s taken his caffeine black since we were 10, and what. He just starts putting milk in it overnight?”

Mikey speaks softly but firmly, putting his hands up in a defensive position to try and calm Leo down, “calm down Leo, is it really such a big deal that he has a little dairy to go with his beans?”

Leo stopped and snapped his head at Mikey, who flinched at the sudden attention, “so you haven’t noticed anything?”

“I mean…” Mikey hesitated with wide eyes, “Leon… are you ok?”

“I’m fine, just…” Leo repeated quieter, “you haven’t noticed anything?”

There was a pause between them, Mikey sat contemplatively as Leo sighed in frustration, he shouldn’t have said anything.

“I’m sorry Mikey,” Leo stood up straight and took a few uneasy paces before coming back to the counter. He rubbed his face with his hands, the lack of sleep was making him crazy. “I think i’m just tired.”

“It’s okay…” Mikey chuckled. His brows furrowed before he slowly turned his head to look towards Leo. “Donnie just…” He dropped his voice to a nervous mumble, “I mean, there was this one thing but it’s not like the thing he did was anything serious.”

Leo’s eyes widened and he looked to see the nervous expression on Mikey’s face, “what?”

Mikey nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Was it the coffee?” Leo asks.

“No, it wasn’t the coffee,” Mikey laughed awkwardly, folding into himself a little more. “It was yesterday.”

“But you were with Dad and Raph all day, right?” Leo contemplated, he had been in the sewers by himself for the majority of that day, what did he miss?

“No, that was today.” Mikey stated, looking confused.

“So you mean the day after yesterday,”

“Whatever, just…” He looked uncomfortable as he started to pick at the flooring.

“What is it?”

“I don’t…” Mikey tapped his fingers against the floor of the turtle tank, avoiding eye contact briefly as he tried to consider his answer. “It really was just this one thing?” He chuckled quietly. “It’s so dumb too, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“What do you mean?” Leo went down to the floor and scooted close to Mikey.

Mikey hesitated to answer, “he turned off Shelldon.”

“What?”

“Raph had broken the game cube, so I went to ask Donnie to fix it before dinner. I went in his lab but he wasn’t there, and that’s when I saw Shelly lying in his charging station. I tried talking to him, but he was off. No lights, no eye movement, just… off”

“Like… charging?” Leo asked.

“No.” Mikey answered quickly, still avoiding eye contact as he spoke. “Like off. Off, off.”

“Shelldon can’t turn off,” Donnie had installed multiple processors into Shelldon in order for him to be able to be alert at all times, a ‘security measure’ as he had put it, “He’s got a sleep mode-”

Mikey looked at Leo suddenly, and there was a bead of panic depicted on his face, “he was open and his battery was sitting on the table.”

Leo’s throat tightened. Donnie would never do that. “Woah… that’s…”

“When Donnie came in I asked him about it,” Mikey rubbed the back of his neck again and his voice got even quieter as he continued, “he said he just needed to change the battery in order to… something about his coolant?” His explaining tone of voice didn’t really convey that he believed that. “I didn’t really get it, but he said he’d fix the game cube so I left,” Mikey looked away from Leo and stood. He picked up the glue gun.

Leo was stunned. He turned off Shelldon. Shelldon! Shelldon was the one family member that Donnie could tolerate for more than ten minutes and he just… gutted him on the table? He didn’t remember seeing Shelldon the previous night when he had bothered Donatello, but then again, the lab was pretty messy, he could have missed him among the broken car and vending machine.

“It was just that one thing though,” Mikey cut into his thoughts. Leo stood as Mikey began squeezing the clear sealant on the handles break. Leo picked up the handle that laid on the counter and pushed it against the fracture. “We shouldn’t be talking about him like this.”

“Wha-” Leo was shocked, “you can’t just give me that information and not make me worried about it Mikey,” Leo wiggled the handle until it fit cleanly against the jagged piece, “he turned off Shelldon? His most recent pride and joy turtle robot son?”

“He made Shelldon,” Mikey put the glue gun down and sighed, “he knows more about him than us and updates him like… every week.”

“I think somethings up with him,” Leo whispered, Leo’s fist clenched tighter against the metal handle and his fist paled.

Mikey unplugged the glue gun and his tone turned into a mix of concern and reason, “Shelldon needs a coolant change three times a day,” he set the gun down to let it cool , with a sigh he continued, “is it really so unbelievable to you that Donnie would want to fix that?”

“Something is wrong Mikey,” Leo’s whisper rose and he took a step closer to Mikey.

Mikey looked nervous as Leo approached. “Stop it Leo,” he warned.

“He’s been acting so weird, with the coffee, dancing, backwash, staring at me!” Leo’s voice was rising. “Are you seriously telling me that he turned off Shelldon and you’re not even a little concerned?” Leo grasped at Mikey’s arm loosely.

Mikey looked at the hand and then back to Leo, squinting as he studied Leo carefully. After a pause, “Leo, why were you up this late anyway?”

Leo was taken aback by the question. He scoffed and shook his head as he stuttered his response. “We’re not talking about me, here, we’re talking about Donnie.”

“Yeah, but…” Mikey was starting to see the heavy bags under his eyes, “how long have you been awake?”

“Mikey, please, are you concerned or not?”

Mikey’s voice was soft and patient, but it couldn’t blanket the anxiety that was underneath “Is it the Insomnia?”

“Mikey, I am actually getting scared,” there was a shake in Leo’s voice. “He’s been acting like a stranger.”

“How much have you slept?” Mikey continued, “you’re not acting like yourself-”

Leo rose into a frantic shout, “he’s not acting like Donnie!” Mikey stumbled at the rise in his voice, shaken by the sudden hostility he stared at Leo with quivering eyes.

“I-”

“What are you guys doing?” They both jumped at the sudden voice. Leo looked towards the floor hatch where Donnie was. He was only halfway through, leaning his head in one hand as he watched inquisitively.

“Uh,” Leo started, “we were just-” The handle fell to the floor with a bang. Mikey and Leo looked at the handle and then each other. If they could sweat, Mikey would be sweating bullets. He was painfully nervous, and so was Leo. How much did Donnie hear?

Leo swallowed the knot in his throat, “hey Donnie,” Donnie’s eyes flickered to Leo and took mark of him from top to bottom. Leo swallowed again. “Whatcha doin-”

“I broke the ice cream maker!” The answer burst out of Mikey and he was suddenly ranting again. “I woke up and after talking all day and eating dinner I forgot to have dessert so I woke up and I just really wanted something sweet and I know that you had just added marshmallow and creamsicle flavor so I thought I’d just come in here real quick and grab some but then the handle wouldn’t go down and I thought “ok I guess i’ll pull a little harder” and then it just SNAPPED in my hands! I got my glue stick, and it was my favorite glue stick because it’s worked on everything so far, even dad’s favorite mug, but then it wouldn’t stick so I-” Leo tuned Mikey out and studied Donnie from the corner of his eye.

Donnie gazed nonchalantly at the handle before he considered the two of them. His eyes shifted between Mikey and Leo, and for a moment he just sat in the floor hatch, listening to Mikey quietly. He looked at Leo again, and as Donnie’s eyes narrowed a weight resettled in Leo's stomach, almost dragging him down to the floor. Donnie smiled, and Leo shivered. Donnie stood up from the floor hatch and placed himself between Leo and Mikey, shell to Leo.

“-and then we tried the hot glue and it was working for a second and then BAM, it fell to the floor and I am so so, So! Sorry Donnie I know how important it was to you and I shouldn’t have even-” Mikey stopped when Donnie pulled him in for a hug.

“It’s okay Micheal,” he spoke softly as he embraced Mikey carefully. “Accidents happen.”

“Re- really?” Mikey spoke hesitantly, carefully bringing his arms up to hold Donnie back, as carefully as someone would approach an animal that might run away. Donnie never initiated hugs. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not!” Donnie laughed, “it’s just an ice cream maker, no biggie!”

“But still, I shouldn't have-”

“You know what,” Donnie cut him off. “Why don’t we both have some ice cream together?”

Leo found his voice.“What?”

Donnie looked over his shoulder at Leo with a wide grin before looking back to Mikey “I just finished making a brand new ice cream maker in my lab!”

“Like… right now?” Leo was confused.

“No you dum-dum,” Donnie laughed heartily, “earlier today, right after dinner.”

“You mean yesterday?” Mikey chirped.

“Whatever,” Donnie expressively waved his hand, “do you want some ice cream or not?”

Mickey laughed hesitantly at the offer, squeezing Donnie tightly before letting go with a nervous laugh. “I mean-”

Purple continued, “We could have mango flavor, sprinkles and chocolate, coffee and cream, or even that new one you wanted to try, creamsicle and marshmallow!” He threw an arm over Mikey’s shoulders. “For breakfast!”

“Sure…” In disbelief, Mikey slowly returned to his ecstatic senses, quickly perking up with excitement as Donnie began to lead him towards the door of the tank. “Sure! Yeah, yeah!”

“Great!” Donnie smiled eagerly and Mikey started talking about possible ice cream combinations that he was going to try. Mikey was smiling so happily and Donnie listened fondly as he rambled on a more positive note. He held him closely, hugging him tightly by the shoulder as they approached the passenger seat door. Leo stood still, uncertain with what to do or what to say. Donnie looked back, and his grin widened.

Leo grabbed Mikey’s hand instinctively, addressing Donnie before they could go any farther, “wait!”

Donnie hummed.

Leo’s voice was choked as he tried to find a reason for stopping them. “Isn’t it a little early for ice cream?”

“No.” Mikey and Donnie said in unison, and Donnie laughed before Mikey could, the mischief in Donnie’s eyes twinkled, “want to join us?”

Leo did not. The rock in his stomach had grown into his legs and he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want Mikey to go either. Something was wrong while at the same time nothing was wrong. He shouldn’t be worried, nothing bad has happened, so why was he so full of dread. “We’ve still gotta fix the machine in here, right, Mikey?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Donnie scoffed, “I’ll fix it later.” He flicked open the door and Mikey was pulled out of Leo’s hands. Mikey looked back with a smile, but it broke when he saw Leo’s face. ‘Don’t let him go,’ the small voice whispered. Too late.

Leo watched from the window as they walked towards the door of the garage. Mikey was back to rambling and Donnie held him closely as they exited. Leo yawned so hard it made him dizzy, he stumbled back to the counter and growled as he rubbed his face. What was wrong? What was wrong with Donnie? What was wrong with him? He stayed there for another few minutes, closing his eyes and breathing as he tried to get a grip on himself.

He turned off every light in the turtle tank and closed the floor hatch before locking up the garage for the night. As he walked back into the common room he could see that the lights were still on in the Lab. Mikey’s loud voice was ecstatic as he talked about ice cream and the plans that he and Raph had made with Dad.

Leo dragged open the curtain to his room and closed it behind him just as he heard Raph shouting for them to be quiet. He picked his blanket up off of the floor and flopped onto the bed, curling into a tight ball under the thick sheet trying to drown the noise of Donnie and Mikey’s stifled giggles.

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