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#now that i reread the rules i think i only had to put down their names oops
sugar-grigri · 8 months
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Fujimoto answers you directly in this chapter (yes)
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How about reading CSM differently? Or at least cut it up differently? Because the more the chapters progress, the more a certain pattern seems to repeat itself: Part 1 sounds as if Fujimoto is unveiling CSM in its purest form, then Part 2 sounds as if CSM is responding to its own reception by its fans. 
I've already said many times that Fujimoto likes contrast in form and in writing, and this chapter, though brain-numbing, simply follows Fujimoto's own rules, only in an even more accentuated way. 
To prove my point, I recommend you reread chapter 133 "Protest", which for me speaks directly to the divisive image represented by Fujimoto and his work Chainsaw Man. 
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I've already done an exhaustive analysis of it, but let's get one thing out of the way: Fujimoto answers his fans in part 2. 
Whether it's by posing a heroine who seems incompatible with Denji, hating the figure of CSM which is nonetheless the work in which she's included, whether it's through the themes addressed by part 2, the question of dual identity, creating antagonists like Fake!CSM, setting up a church (us) around CSM 
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We're in a work that speaks for itself, as chapter 137 confirms, and for this very rule, we refer to the previous chapters (an eternal restart).
Chapter 136, entitled "Normal Life", refers to a more-than-CENTRAL theme in Chainsaw Man, the nerve that irrigated the whole of Part 1 Denji's disillusionment, a bargaining chip for the former antagonist, Fujimoto takes his fans by the hand and puts them back into the game they know. 
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We see what we'd all expected to see, a Denji who doesn't know how to fit into normal life, who's not cut out for 
In my previous analysis, I explained how not only is Denji incapable of having a normal life, not only because of himself but also because of Yoshida, who offers him this life, and above all because of Fujimoto, who abruptly breaks the rhythm of his own chapter with this aggression, frustrating (I'm sure on purpose) his own fans. 
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What Fujimoto does is make you think you were reading in the right direction, showing you a Denji depressed by his normal life, and like a child amused by not wanting to be predictable, he breaks what would otherwise have been a logical thing to see. I mean… Who could have foreseen such a title?
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Chapter 137 simply follows the same logic: Fujimoto has foreseen your frustrated reactions and knows full well that you've become attached to Denji, hoping that he'll break out of the cycle of manipulation. 
He plays you in this chapter by setting up a confident, emotionally well-adjusted Denji who pushes this stranger away, reminding her of the rules of respect and consent. 
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It's not just Denji's thoughts, the way he would have liked to act, it's also the way YOU would have liked him to act. 
Now I can explain why these chapters, which break with the previous ones in their absurdity, are surely the most important in CSM. 
Many had pointed to the famous cinema reference in chapter 136, others had even noted that chapter 136 constituted chapter 39 of part 2, responding to Makima's date with Denji in part 1 in the same chapter. 
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But chapter 39 of part 1 wasn't just interesting for the cinema scene, it was the one that set the rules for understanding CSM. 
In fact, it was this chapter to which chapter 93 responded, with Denji's ideology (in favor of bad movies) confronting Makima (against bad movies).
In the same way, the second chapter 39 (the 136th) also seeks to lay down rules
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Chapters 136 and 137 have never been more responsive to CSM fans, stubbornly denying them what they want. 
What Fujimoto does is to return to cinema in its purest form in the second half, using the codes of the middle-aged male slasher. 
That's why the two high-school students go to Fujimoto's karaoke bar, because you're going to find yourself in its purest essence: having fun with the utmost absurdity. 
It's no longer a question of representing cinema, as in the two chapters 39, but of making cinema.
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But why a slasher? Think of the mythical slashers that traumatized a generation… Yes… The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a work that has achieved cult status for having opened the door to a new trend in American horror cinema: the slasher movie. Nothing represents a slasher movie more than a chainsaw-headed hero?
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Inspired by the Italian "giallos", slasher movies feature a masked killer, a gang of youngsters and the killings of the serial killer in question. Fujimoto takes up this theme in his own way: Denji doesn't kill with his iconic chainsaw, he's not masked, and it's the young couple who hold the beats and the shady men who get killed.
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If we go back to the depression we all expected to see, it's actually more complicated to understand: Denji's depression at being trapped in a type of writing that's too serious for him. 
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Here Denji follows the rules of the game, enjoying himself by killing all those old people, saying ironically: "not bad this normal life". 
Because this scene is perfectly normal in Fujimoto's karaoke.  
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In itself, Yoshida was right. Indeed, no, Denji is not the hero of the normal film that was unfolding before them. Because they're not in normal life, it's projected onto the screen. CSM's reality is an absurd slasher. It is in this slasher, in this false normal life, that the protagonist, Denji, is.
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Denji is the protagonist of another film. And maybe in this one, the world needs Chaisaw Man.
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ddarker-dreams · 8 months
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Nexus.
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Yandere Blade x F Reader.
Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.
Nexus index.
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On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 
Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 
Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 
This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 
Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 
… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 
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“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 
You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.
“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 
Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 
“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 
“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 
“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 
“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 
She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 
You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 
Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 
“I’ll take your input into—” 
A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 
“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 
You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 
Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 
You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 
The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 
“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”
Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 
“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 
The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 
The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 
Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 
“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”
“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 
“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 
He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 
He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 
“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 
A white ring forms around his pupils. 
“You… will?” 
“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 
The ring goes from opaque to solid. 
The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 
You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 
One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 
Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 
You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  
The taut link between you falters. 
Straining…
(He’s reaching into his pocket). 
Fraying…
(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  
Until it snaps. 
The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 
You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 
Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 
This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—
Metal clashes against metal. 
The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 
This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 
His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 
“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 
He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 
Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 
“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 
So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 
If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 
Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 
You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 
There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 
“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 
Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.
“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 
By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 
Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 
A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 
The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  
The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 
During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 
It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 
You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 
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“Absolutely not!” 
An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 
This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 
“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 
You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 
“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 
“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 
You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 
Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 
“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 
“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 
You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 
“Try 70%.” 
She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 
“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 
“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 
As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 
“What does this intel cost me?” 
“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 
You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 
“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 
The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 
“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 
“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 
“What?” 
Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 
To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 
“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 
She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 
How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 
You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 
“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 
For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 
“A gift for a friend.”
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Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 
There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 
Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.
“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 
An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 
“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 
Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 
“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 
Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 
“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 
Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 
“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 
Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 
He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 
You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 
“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 
You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.
“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 
Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 
“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 
His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   
You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 
“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 
Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.
“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 
Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 
“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 
Your eye twitches. 
This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 
“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 
You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 
Your heart stutters. 
There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 
Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 
When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 
You will the thought away. 
Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 
He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 
There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 
You find yourself leaning in closer. 
He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 
"Show me what it's like to die." 
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stirthewaters · 12 days
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Too Sharp to Touch pt.12
Word Count: 2.5k
Summary: Wednesday comforts you in your fear of the rain
Warnings: language, pills/drugs? Fluff
Pairings: Wednesday x Reader
Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist
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The darkening skies had you on edge as you walked along the sidewalk.
The presence of Wednesday at your side was starting to become surprisingly familiar as she strode beside you, her pale, well manicured fingers gripping the straps of her backpack rather tightly as her deadpan expression remained focused straight ahead. It was starting to become quite comforting.
The two of you were in town for different reasons; Wednesday specifically wanted to visit the hunting store to look over the recent customers to add to her evidence board, and while you of course were devoted to the case the two of you were engaged in, you were in town for an alternate purpose; supplements.
Not that you found anything wrong with your wolf, merely because you preferred not to spend full moons in the lupine cages. Your most recent prescription had unfortunately been completed right before the full moon; about two days away from now. All you had to do was show your prescription to the outcast doctor and be on your way.
“This way.” A slight nudge on your arm tugged you from your thoughts as you glanced over to see Wednesday turning the corner, barely slowing down as she pointed out without even sparing you a glance. “You’re nervous.”
You scurried back to her side, unable to resist a soft roll of your eyes as you mumbled, “it’s a perfectly normal phobia.”
“I’d hardly label the fear of rain as rational.” Wednesday remarked, shooting you a look as her boots clomped along the sidewalk, a rhythm you repeated with your fingers against your side. “Perhaps some therapy would do you good.”
“Oh and where did that get you?” You retort hotly as her glare darkens. “I’d rather not look for psychological help in a town that’s known for murders. I’m already breaking the rules enough being out here.”
“It’s merely a medical trip for you. Consider it that way if you prefer a clean conscience.” Wednesday almost shrugged, pausing abruptly and causing you to stumble, nearly bumping into her in the process. “I’ll meet you back here once I’m done.”
“It’s a pharmacy, not a drop-off center…” you grumbled under your breath as you stepped into the building, the warm heat welcoming you as opposed to the cold outside. You turned and watched as Wednesday walked off in the direction of the hunting store.
Approaching the counter you instantly recognized Dr. Kennedy, the same man who’d started to become familiar with your occasional visits.
“Ah, Y/N. Welcome back.” The man smiled over his glasses with a warm expression, placing his clipboard down as he approached the other side of the counter to meet you. “How’s life at Nevermore treating you? I didn’t think any students would make it to town with the storm on the way.”
You felt yourself pale slightly at the mention of the storm before responding, putting on a smile to match his. Although you were never very particular about doctors, Dr Kennedy did a decent job at making you feel welcomed in a town like Jericho. It only made sense, seeing as his business catered specially to outcasts. It was lucky that Nevermore had a medical supplier so close to the school anyways.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, honestly; it’s a little chilly but nothing I can’t handle.” You paused before pulling your crumpled prescription from your jacket pocket, slipping it onto the counter for him to see. “I was looking for a refill on my supplements.”
Dr Kennedy adjusted his glasses down the bridge of his nose slightly as he took the paper into his palm, rereading the words. Taking a pen in his palm he re-signed it, turning into the back room as he spoke.
“You're quite lucky you got here in time, Y/N. Our shipment of lupine suppressants came unusually late and with a lot less too; apparently the pharmacist up in Vermont had to deal with some sort of robbery at his place.”
He returned a few moments later with the usual brown paper bag, sliding it over the counter to you as he leant on his elbows, continuing.
“I hear pharmacies aren’t doing too well nowadays. Or at least around here, they’re not.”
You frowned slightly as you reached for the bag, double checking as usual that it was the correct bottle. Spotting the ever familiar green label you stuffed it into your pocket.
“There must be some sort of shortage wherever they’re growing or manufacturing these… probably nothing bad.” You shrugged, not taking notice of Dr Kennedy’s skeptical expression. “Thanks for the pills, Doctor. I appreciate it.”
The man nodded softly and smiled warmly; “good luck, Y/N. I assume you’ll see me in a month or two.” With that he disappeared back into the back room.
You stepped out of the building, looking up at the darkened skies; a low rumble of thunder met your glance, making your skin crawl. Yes, Wednesday had specifically instructed you to wait here until she returned, but there was no way in hell you’d be caught in the rain; besides, she wasn’t in charge of you, was she?
There was a brief moment of hesitation but when you felt a light sprinkle on your shoulder you flinched and immediately made a beeline for the hunting store.
The doorbells clanging over the door announced your arrival to everyone inside and you felt yourself grimace in disgust at the sight of all the different rifles and guns mounted upon the wall, distaste lingering in your mouth. Fortunately there weren’t that many customers; the occasional fisherman here and there but otherwise it was surprisingly peaceful for a hunting store.
As you walked through the stand of furred hats you spotted Wednesday at the counter, speaking with the cashier; a man wearing a Bulls baseball cap and a torn leather jacket. You watched as the raven spoke, recognizing the slight look of impatience in her eye you’d become familiar with lately. Clearly the man’s attitude wasn’t one she was happy with.
“-listen, Miss, I’d love to help you, I really would, but the data we track from our customers is private. We don’t just give it out to anyone, y’know.”
You watched as Wednesday’s grip tightened slightly on her backpack straps as she spoke through slightly gritted teeth.
“My motives are in the pursuit of the school's safety; you’re willing to risk that in order to protect a store policy?”
“Just because Jericho and Nevermore are on decent terms doesn’t mean we’re responsible for each other.” The man frowned slightly as if in slight distaste as he met Wednesday’s glare. “And all that shit that went down last year with the Hyde is over. I highly doubt the safety of the school is at risk.”
“Then explain where the deputies are right now.”
Wednesday folded her arms, her gaze darkening as the man sighed.
“I don’t know everything that goes on in this town, kid. It’s probably just another bear attack up north.”
“How ironic,” you caught Wednesday mutter under her breath as he continued.
“You’re just a high schooler. Even if Nevermore is in danger like you said, I’m not giving just any goth who walks into my store important information. So unless you’re planning on buying something you can leave.”
You weren’t surprised when Wednesday slid a knife across the counter without a moment’s hesitation; the blade was short and straight with a nicked top that looked quite sharp; the handle was a deep black, with silver hints down the sides, making for a tasteful choice of knife. Of course she had good taste in knives.
“I can make it worth your while.”
The raven held up a small stack of bills she had retrieved from her backpack, raising an eyebrow at the employee. He eyed the money for a moment, his eyes narrowing before folding his arms and scoffing.
“I don’t do bribes, kid. Just buy the knife and get out of here.”
Jaw clenched, Wednesday thumbed a bill from the stack and handed it over, placing the rest in her backpack as she took the knife and slid it into her jacket pocket, not bothering to say goodbye as she headed out.
“You’re dreadful at hiding.” Her voice startled you as she paused in front of you, an eyebrow raised. “You’d think a wolf would have a better sense at subtelty.”
“You’d be surprised.” You gave a soft grin of your own as you folded your arms, glancing at the man who was now watching the two of you with a distasteful expression, eyes narrowed as he examined you closely. “Let’s get out of here.”
The two of you were at the door when you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder and you froze, eyes narrowing as you slowly turned on your heel.
“I recognize you.”
“Don’t touch her.” Wednesday shouldered you aside somewhat roughly, but you didn’t mind, you were too busy glaring at the man as you retorted
“Leave us alone. You said you wanted us gone, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, whatever.” He waved dismissively, removing his hand at the sight of Wednesday’s death stare. “But you’re that Lyall kid, right? The one from Vermont?”
“What’s it to you?” You frowned, suddenly hyper aware of Wednesday’s cold hand on your wrist.
“I’d be willing to give that intel your girl was looking for in exchange for some information. I mean, you’re famous after all, aren't you?”
“She’s not my- my-“ you stuttered dumbly as you felt yourself blush slightly, Wednesday’s eyes on you as you fought for words. “I’m not famous, you’ve got the wrong person.”
The guy frowned slightly, examining you for a moment until eventually muttering something under his breath, “not worth it”. Turning on his heel he started to head back to the counter, but Wednesday stepped forward quickly, gripping his jacket tightly in one hand as the other bore the knife she’d just purchased, pointed at his neck.
“If you want to keep your head attached to your body I’d suggest staying away from us.”
Your eyes widened slightly as the man’s eyes widened in shock and slight fear as he gave what little of a nod he could until the raven stepped back, folding the knife in disgust and putting it away as she turned back to you.
“Let’s go.”
-
By the time you and Wednesday had returned to Nevermore a good rain was already falling, the rumbles of thunder now more pronounced through the school’s walls. If not for the umbrella Wednesday had brought just in case you would’ve been soaked.
“That was a waste of time,” you grumbled as you followed her into the dorm the Addams shared with Enid. “Other than my suppressants we got nothing.”
“Not necessarily.” Wednesday pulled her jacket aside, hanging it over the side of her bed as she faced the recently set up investigation board by the window. Thing scuttled out from her bag, perching himself atop the board; in his fingers he held a pair of keys.
A wild grin burst upon your face as you held out your hand and Thing tossed you the keys, speaking with excitement “how the hell did you get these without being seen?”
“Simple diversion. I would’ve thought you’d learned a bit more after all this time.” Wednesday gave a little roll of her eyes as she examined the board; there wasn’t much on it; a map of the woods, a diagram of a shotgun, and a couple receipts. “Tonight would be more than a sufficient time to break in.”
You started to respond with a grin until a crackle of thunder split through the dorm, sending a chill down your spine, fingers tightly gripping the edges of your jacket. Wednesday clearly noticed, as something akin to a frown flashed across her face.
“I still don’t understand how you can fear such a beautifully gloomy sound. Just because it is meant to instill fear does not mean you have to be afraid.” The Addams paced across the room, until she was facing you directly, her dark stare flitting over your shaking form. God you hated the fact that you were shaking. “What will it take for me to get your pitiful shaking to stop?”
You fought for words, at a loss for what to say. You’d never been asked that before. You didn’t notice the way Wednesday’s gaze softened just ever so softly; the way her furrowed eyebrows lifted slightly and her chocolate-toned eyes met you.
You had no clue what she was thinking.
For Wednesday she was left utterly confused at the muddled mess of disgusting feelings sitting in her stomach like a pile of rot. The Addams had no clue how to handle them, especially since she had such a lack of experience with… emotion. You must have cursed her… at this point she was positive that you were the one making her cup your chin, your skin ever so warm on her cool hand as she lifted your head so that you met her gaze. Her usually confident and sure footed mind was left scrambling to remember all do Enid’s advice on comfort.
“If it will get you to stop quaking like a frightened puppy I will allow you to reside on my bed.” Wednesday paused, before her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t stain anything or I will kick you out.”
The way your eyes faintly brightened made her heart twist; oh god, you weakened her. She most certainly despised you. Another boom of thunder seemed to end any hesitation you might’ve had as the raven watched you scramble for her bed.
Glancing over at the investigation board she spotted Thing, cutting off his tapping as she gritted her teeth - “not. A. Word.”
A quick look back over at the bed confirmed your still shaking form. You were just sitting there, stiff and awkward on the edge of the mattress. Wednesday couldn’t help rolling her eyes as she strode towards her cello case, kneeling down as she muttered, “one could easily think you were a corpse.”
“I’m getting comfortable.” You defended hotly, clearly a little embarrassed. She decided not to mention it, merely pulling her beloved instrument from its casing; settling herself atop her chair she pulled the cello in front of her carefully, tuning it.
“You’re going to play for me?”
Wednesday halted, her fingers freezing momentarily over the knobs as she slowly looked over at you, her eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not. Your phobia of the rain just happened to interfere with my playing time.” She turned back to the pegbox, giving one of the pegs the slightest of adjustments before picking up her bow. She didn’t need sheet music to play the song she desired.
Her bow pulled across the strings as her fingers maneuvered the fingerboard. The haunting melody of “Cello Sonata in D Minor, Op.40” began to fill the room, a deep sense of satisfaction stirring within her as the piece unfolded.
Halfway through the song she noticed you’d fallen asleep, draped in a slightly uncomfortable position over the foot of her bed. Sighing, she reluctantly put down the instrument, standing to step over to the bed.
You didn’t even rouse when she draped a blanket over you.
She was unconscious of the fact that she played her cello just ever so slightly softer when she returned.
-
Taglist:
@idkjustliving2 @alexkolax @tekanparadiae
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upon-a-starry-night · 3 months
Text
Number Neighbors Pt. 14
Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1k
Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?
----
(This chapter takes place a little before last chapter of Nat’s pov)
The taste of the dessert was still simmering on your tongue as you walked home from your date. The thought that Nat had maybe seen you hadn’t left your brain since you got that note. The one you were still desperately clutching in your hand, rereading it over and over again and imagining Nat writing it. Her handwriting fits her personality so much. You wondered if she would be open to the idea of becoming pen pals. 
The second you’d read the note you’d scrambled out of your seat to catch the waiter and ask if she was still there but he only shook his head and gave you a pitying smile.
“Can you at least tell me what she looked like?” You didn’t know if you were breaking some unspoken rule of whatever game you were playing with Nat but you had to know. More than anything you had to know.
The waiter picked up a few glasses and plates and put them on his tray before turning to you
“I couldn’t see much, she was wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. You’d think she was a celebrity or something. Is she… your stalker?” 
Before he could get the wrong idea you quickly shook your head no at his accusation
“She’s… a friend?” you don’t know why it sounded so much like a question, both of you had agreed you were beyond strangers now but… what you felt towards Nat didn’t always feel like friendship. It felt like those moments when time stood still;
Like when you feel a cool breeze on the hottest day of the summer,
Or when you snuggle under warm blankets in the winter,
Or settling down somewhere with a cup of something warm and a good book.
She felt like all the little moments you loved about life combined into a person.
Your mother would probably call you naive for feeling so strongly about someone you’d never even met but she’d technically already approved of Nat anyway.
“Is there nothing you can remember about her?” you tried to keep up with the guy as he walked to pick up after another table
You felt a few expensive-looking people look your way but you didn’t pay them any mind.
The waiter huffed and stopped in his tracks, turning to you with the patience only a person who works in customer service could have.
“Look- a bit of her hair was sticking out from under her hoodie, it seemed- brownish? Maybe more of an auburn? I don’t really know I wasn’t paying attention. But if you really need to know so badly we have a tech guy coming up in a few weeks, I could have him send you the alley surveillance footage?” You could tell this guy was over you asking a million questions so you nodded your head enthusiastically. Glad to have at least that much. As you scribbled down your email you thought of your number neighbor with brownish-auburn hair. Somehow, you felt like you already knew her hair would be darker.
~
As you were rounding the corner onto your block your phone pinged with a notification and you were surprised to see Nat’s contact on your screen.
‘It’s about time’ you thought to yourself as you realized this was the first time Nat had texted you first, completely unprompted.
You swiped open the message with a satisfied smile on your face.
         Nat🔪:
Nat🔪:
Enjoy your dinner?
Y/n🍦:
It was okay.
The dessert was the best part.
Nat🔪:
Oh yeah?
Y/n🍦:
Definitely.
Putting your phone away, you unlocked the door to your apartment, entered the flat, and locked the door again before making a B-line for your fridge. You snatched an old grocery list off and replaced it with the napkin. It settled nicely under your baguette-shaped magnet.
You started at the note for a few minutes, unsure how to go about addressing what had transpired.
If you even should address it.
What if it made her run again? You wouldn’t be able to handle her silence like last time. You’d grown too attached. 
Shaking your head you decide to just go for it, rip the band-aid right off. If she disappeared again then it was her loss.
But if she was confident enough to text you first this time then maybe things would be different?
         Nat🔪:
Y/n🍦:
You were there
The reply took a few seconds and you tried your best to channel your inner monk for some patience
Nat🔪:
I stopped by
Y/n🍦:
You were there.
Again the three little typing bubbles taunted you and you wanted to pull them out of your phone and throw them in a blender but you knew it just meant she was second-guessing every answer she could give you. You’d gotten used to her texting habits.
Nat🔪:
I was.
Y/n🍦:
Did you… see me?
Nat🔪:
No.
You don’t know why you breathe out a sigh of relief. Part of you thinks it’s because you want your first meeting to be mutual. To see each other for the first time at the same time. So you can know what she thinks of you by just the look in her eyes.
At least if she had seen you and she was lying you could know that she thought you were pretty enough to continue texting.
Nat🔪:
I never even stepped foot in the restaurant
That much you knew from the waiter, but it still felt good that she was telling you. Like she was validating your unspecified want of seeing each other for the first time together. It always felt like she just knew things about you without you ever telling her. Maybe she was a long-distance mind reader. If that were the case she should really get hired by The Avengers.
The thought makes you huff out a light laugh and reminds you of when the two of you first started talking. It felt like so long ago now. You’d come a long way since then.
Y/n🍦:
Thank you.
It was delicious
It made my night honestly
Nat🔪:
Anytime, Y/n.
I’m glad.
You didn’t know what Nat was doing on her side of the city but you wondered if maybe she was grinning at her screen like a fool the same way you were.
You changed the topic of your conversation with Nat as you began getting ready for bed and not once did it occur to you that you hadn’t thought of your actual date the entire night.
Pt 15
A/n: Y/n learns a little about what Nat looks like!!
I meant it when I said slow burn guys but don't worry this story won't be too long!!~ Starry
---Taglist--
@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts
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Love for Duty’s Sake Part 5
AN: Hello loves! Wow when I tell y’all I was FIGHTING in the editing room with this fic because I couldn’t tell if I should split this in half or not. I ended up just keeping it as one because I felt bad for ignoring democracy (sorry lyric) and posting Anything But Love P2 before I posted this one. A couple of fun facts about this fic because I literally have nowhere else to put them lmfao. In the convo with Griot, the reason Y/N’s argument works on him is because it follows a valid rule within arguments/logic called Hypothetical Syllogism. Basically, If A leads to B and B leads to C then you can correctly assume that A should also lead to C. Google it if you’re interested! Also, in writing Shuri’s interactions (esp the “in my wife's name” parts) it's like very heavily inspired by the way Dracula talks about Lisa Tepes in the Castlevania show!! 
Holy fuck don’t know how I could ever forget this. As always, any of my fake dating stuff is dedicated to the lovely @pinkwright. This is my writer bae y’all have no idea, L4DS and ABL posts are always made with them in mind. 
Summary: As the only daughter of Genelia, there were things you just had to do, and marrying the Queen of Wakanda was one of those things.
Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Cussing, violence, brief mentions of bad relationships with parents that’s it I think.
Word count: 6,213 (you see why I was thinking about splitting it up now??)
Part 1.  Part 2.  Part 3.  Part 4.  Masterlist.  Taglist.
Suggested listening: Glock Six (Bonus) - 6LACK 
“No need to state the obvi', I be close to your heart I know you looking for real love I got my hand on my Glock, posted on the block I might just let off a shot, at anyone tryin' to kill her”
The feeling of your body sliding off of your wife and onto the hospital pillow below you was the first hint that something was off. You knew Shuri didn’t mean to be so rough with you, even if you hadn’t been injured. She just hopped off of the bed quicker than her mind could remember that you were laying back on her. Only when you grimaced slightly did Shuri think enough to look back at you. 
“Ndicela uxolo sthandwa sam (I’m sorry my love).” She muttered to you softly, scanning your body just long enough to ensure that you weren’t really hurt before turning her attention to Aneka. “When was this posted?” 
“Ten minutes ago.” 
Shuri took a deep inhale, rereading the post. “How did she even know about the shooting to post?” 
The question was impossible for Aneka to answer, knowing something like that wasn’t necessarily in her job description. You, however? You were used to political moves like this. “She knows because the shooting happened in her city Shuri.” 
“What?” Shuri turned to face you.
“I’m just saying, if something goes down in the Golden City, you’re made aware right? The same thing goes for DC. Especially on a day like today, foreign powers come into town. I’m sure she was all over it.” As you spoke, wheels started turning in your head, the scenario surrounding the events of your shooting. Everything was almost too perfect like it had been orchestrated. 
“Listen to what you just said Y/N, I’m notified when something happens in the Golden City, not you. So why would she be the one posting about this instead of the President?” Shuri’s tone was harsher than you would have liked, posing the question to you as if you were a child misunderstanding basic math. 
You sat up in your bed. “Because President Carter isn’t leading the show, Mallory is.” 
“Why would you say that?” 
“Because I know it’s true.” You folded your arms across your chest, starting to get annoyed at Shuri’s refusal to see what was clearly right in front of her. “Do you not trust me?” 
The question was loaded and the Queen’s response came instinctually, “The question is not if I trust you, we are married of course I trust you. But you make it increasingly harder to trust you when you put forth ideas like that.” Shuri mimicked your position, crossing her arms over herself. 
Her response stung and the look on your face made Shuri regret saying it immediately. “I did not mean-” 
You cut Shuri off, not wanting to hear what she had to say. “Nope. You said it. What do I know anyway? Not like I come from a family of politicians who would make this exact same move given the chance.” You turned your attention from where Shuri and Aneka stood back to the tv, effectively disengaging from the conversation. 
Warning signals were going off in Shuri’s head and she knew she fucked up. Taking one more look at the screen she made her way back over to your bed. Kneeling next to you and taking your hand in hers. “I am sorry, sthandwa sam. (my love) I didn't mean to brush off your idea like that.  Your attention still faced forward but the Queen could feel the race in your heart rate when her thumb traced over the lines of your knuckles. 
The silent treatment you were giving Shuri was frustrating her, if she had just slowed down as Okoye said, she would've thought about what she was saying before she said it. “I promise I will make it up to you-”
The buzz of Shuri’s kimoyo beads pulled her attention away from you and her apology. 
Speak of the devil and she shall appear.
It was a message from Okoye letting her know that they had all made it back safely to Wakanda and that Liam Drockers was in the lower-level interrogation rooms. Aneka must’ve gotten a similar message from Ayo because when she made eye contact with Shuri, she gave her a knowing nod as she left the room. 
“I will make this up to you… when I am free again.” The end of the sentence tumbled slowly out of Shuri’s mouth, knowing it was going to garner a reaction from you. 
“What?” Instead of your voice sounding angry like the Queen had expected, it almost sounded more hurt or scared. This new tone pulled at Shuri’s heartstrings. “You’re leaving?” 
While yes, you were literally just ignoring Shuri ten seconds ago, you hadn’t expected her to just up and leave like that. Especially given how physically close you two had spent the last hour, part of you had grown attached to her in a way you never imagined possible. Addicted to the safe feeling that only seemed to come when you were in her arms. 
“I have some council business I have to take care of.” Her rubbing of your hands still hadn’t stopped, tracing every detail of your knuckles. 
You looked at her now, teeth biting at your bottom lip. “What do you have that’s so important?” 
“Just some time-sensitive stuff I need to handle. It should be quick, I don’t imagine it will be long.” Her eyes were averted, so you had no read on what possible clues they could be conveying. Something about this bothered you, normally she was so demanding of your eye contact and now she wasn’t even looking up. But you knew Shuri, whatever this was she wasn’t going to give up easily. You needed something to garner her attention first before you asked her what you needed to know. 
“I think I’m gonna call home.” Shuri’s eyes instantly flashed up to yours.
“Really?”
“I think so, I don’t want my family worrying about me, you know? I don’t want them thinking I’m dead or anything. Now that Mallory has so kindly let the world know about this.” 
Shuri hummed in response, debating asking the question at the forefront of her mind. “I thought- I mean, I didn’t know you had a way of contacting them.” 
This made you feel a little bit guilty since you had made it seem like you’d given Genelia up for good. “It's a direct line to my father's advisor, only for emergency purposes.” Your eyes flickered around her face. “I’ve never used it, I didn’t think I’d have to.” 
Shuri felt assured in hearing this, the slight worry that had slipped into her mind about you secretly planning to leave her dissipated. “Oh, okay.” She savored these last few minutes of her hand tracing yours, knowing that soon those same hands who held yours so delicately would be used in the complete opposite manner. 
“Shuri?” The way you called her name was soft, the same way you had in the restaurant before all of this had happened. It made her feel warm inside, lowering her guard just as you intended. 
Her response once again was just a hum, her eyes studying every detail of your face the way her hands did yours. 
“You wouldn’t lie to me right?” Your question caught her off guard but her rubbing never stopped. 
“Kakade hayi, sithandwa sam. (Of course, not my love)” Her eyes conveyed no sign of lying so you continued. 
“So it’s really council business that's so pressing you have to take care of it right now? Not anything to do with me?” You asked the question confidently, not taking your eyes off Shuri, searching for a tell. Anyone else would have missed it but you didn’t, the brief second when Shuri’s movements faltered. When her hand stopped rubbing yours. 
“Yes.” 
“Yes, what?” 
She stood up now, letting go of your hand. Being at eye level with you was too much right now, it felt too connected given the fact that she was literally lying to your face. “Yes, it’s council business like I told you before. Very time sensitive.” Before you could respond she spoke again. “Aneka!” 
The Dora appeared in the door frame with lightning speed, “Yes, ngangamsha (your majesty)?” 
“Guard Y/N’s side of the ward while I deal with this business, make sure no harm comes to her.” Shuri’s words were confident and her arms now crossed her chest signifying her demeanor change. 
“Shuri, I don't need a babysitter, I’m fine.” You protested. “Plus Aneka has yet to see Ayo, let them see each other.” 
“I am fine, my Queen. Thank you for your kindness but ensuring your safety is more important.” Aneka responded quickly, earning a nod of agreement from Shuri. 
Your wife looked down at her kimoyo beads. “I’ll be back in an hour, mfazi (wife).” Placing a kiss on your forehead, she looked down at you one more time before she left. “No trouble while I’m gone?” 
“I’ll try my hardest.” You replied as she walked out of the room, Aneka behind her taking her spot guarding your room. 
This left you alone with your thoughts and while a million things were running around your mind there were two prominent thoughts. One being, your wife was lying to you. 
You couldn't be a hundred percent sure about exactly what she was lying about but you knew it had something to do with you. While you wanted to snoop around and try and figure it out, the second of the thoughts found its way to the forefront of your mind. Having to call you family. 
Looking around you found your physical phone, the one that Shuri still referred to as ‘primitive technology’. Scrolling until you found the contact you didn’t think you’d ever have to press. Saying a prayer you pressed call and hoped for the best. 
The line rang only one time before the person picked up. “This isn’t some sick joke, you’re really calling me?” 
“Marcos, I told you I’d only call you in an emergency. I wouldn't play a joke like this.” 
You could hear him recite a prayer on the other end of the line. “Everyones worried sick about you Y/N, I mean your parents think you’re…” His voice trailed off and it made your heart hurt thinking about the stress this whole situation inadvertently caused your family. 
“I know, I know, that’s why I called. Can you just tell them that I’m alright? It’s nothing to worry about and I’ll be fine?” 
Marcos contemplated your words, “Y/N, your father will kill me if he finds out I spoke to you without giving him the opportunity.” 
The sound of movement from the other end of the line had you concerned. “Marcos wait, you know I don’t want to speak to them.” It was a useless plea and you knew it. As much as Marcos cared about you like you were his own daughter and wished to protect you as such. At the end of the day, he worked for your father. 
“I’m sorry mon papillon (my butterfly)” The term of endearment did little to quell the feeling of betrayal as Marcos moved to give the phone to your father. 
“Whoever it is Marcos, tell them they will need to call later, I am grieving my daughter.” 
“It is about Y/N, sir.”
Your father looked between his advisor and the phone before picking it up. 
“Yes?” This was the first time you had heard your father's voice in years. It had become too painful to go back and watch old home videos from before Yara’s death so part of you wondered if you’d forgotten what he sounded like. But as soon as his deep voice bellowed through the phone, you remembered. 
“Dad? It’s me.” You were scared to speak the words at first, questioning how he would react. 
“Y/N, is that you? Oh my god! Josiah, get your mother from the chapel, our baby is alive!” The outcry from your father made your heart hurt, had he been that concerned?
“Dad-” You tried to speak but his rambling cut you off. 
“When we saw the news honey we were so worried about you, I thought you had died. But you didn’t! God brought you back!”
“Dad-”
 “He’s bringing you back home to us!” He ended his rejoicing when you finally spoke up. 
“Babba! What are you talking about?” Your pain medication must have been making you delirious and mishear things. 
“What do you mean Y/N, this is a sign! You were almost taken from Genelia, from us. We need to come together and give thanks that you’re still with us.” Your father's words were confusing you, why was he saying that you were taken from them as if they weren't the same ones to send you away? 
“I’m not coming home Dad, I was just calling to let everyone know I was okay-”
“Nonsense!” Your mother spoke now, you weren't aware when she arrived in the room. “You must come home, we miss you. This was a wake-up call, don’t you think?” 
You paused now and took a deep breath. What they were asking was encroaching on a boundary you had set the day you left Genelia. To never come back. “I just, I don’t think it’s a good idea guys.”
It was now your parent's turn to pause while they thought about what they could say to change your mind. But it wasn’t them that spoke, instead it was a different voice. One that clearly held the tonal characteristics of a man but was still slightly squeaky signifying they hadn’t fully finished maturing. 
“So you’re just never gonna come back? Is that it then?” If it wasn’t for your father's words earlier you wouldn’t have even been able to guess who it was. But of course, it was your little shadow who spoke up now. Josiah. 
“Siah-”
“No, you don’t get to call me that anymore. My sister, who loved me and didn’t just get up and abandon her family for a fancy new life in France, called me that. I don’t know who you are.” 
Josiah’s words cut through you like the sharpest blade known to man, cutting deeper than any slick comment from Shuri. Is that really what he thought happened? That you left your family behind to go chase your dreams in a foreign country? 
You didn’t care about your parents, quite frankly fuck them. Any emotional ties you felt towards them had long left you, so saying no to them while it was hard; it didn’t hurt. Saying no to Josiah though? Hearing the disappointment in his voice? He didn’t deserve this. To be caught in the crosshairs of the relationship between you and your parents. 
“Fine!” 
“Fine?” Your mother and father's voice asked in unison. 
“Fine, I will come back to Genelia to visit.” 
“Tomorrow?” Josiah’s voice questioned.
“Tomorrow? Siah I just got shot.” You tried to reason with your brother, and while you didn’t feel any of the effects of the shooting at this exact moment you still didn’t know if traveling so soon would be wise. Plus you still needed to explain this all to Shuri. 
“You’re married to the smartest woman in the world and live in the most technologically advanced country. I’m sure they can figure something out.” Josiah left no room for argument in his sentence. 
“Fine Siah, I will come to Genelia for a few days, flying in tomorrow. Happy?” You didn’t even understand why you were agreeing to this. 
“Not in the slightest, I have no idea who you are anymore. I did that for Mom and Dad.” 
That hurt more than Josiah knew. You tried to tell yourself that he didn’t mean it, but something in you couldn't believe it. 
“Okay well, I’ve got to go. I’ll um talk to Marcos about arrival times and everything.” You needed this phone call done, the gravity of what you had just agreed to started to weigh on you. 
“Parfait! We can’t wait to see you soon Y/N. We love you!” You could hear the smile in your father's voice and felt guilt not only that you didn’t feel the same happiness but that you couldn’t reciprocate his “I love you” truthfully.  
“Yeah I um, I’ll see you guys soon.” With that you ended the call, throwing your head back against the pillow. 
As you sat in silence you digested what had just happened.
1. You called Marcos, just to let him know that you were alive. 
2. You ended up on a phone call with your parents, speaking to them for the first time in years. 
3. After declining to come to Genelia, you were guilt-tripped into returning by your little brother. Not because he wanted to see you but because he knew his parents wanted to.
All of this made your head reel and you longed for the peace and comfort that your wife provided. But she wasn’t here with you, her wife who had just been shot. Instead, she was dealing with council business.
“Griot.” 
“Ah your majesty, I am glad you are in good health again. What can I do for you?” 
You paused wondering if Griot was even able to give you this information. “Where is Shuri right now?” 
“Shuri has programmed me to not disclose her location to anyone unless it is an emergency, I am sorry your majesty.” 
Of course Shuri had done so, always wanting to keep tabs on everyone but not thinking anyone else needed to keep them on her. You wanted to give up before an idea popped into your head. “Griot, Shuri programmed me into your system as a Queen, correct?” 
“Yes your majesty, she has programmed you with the same clearance as she has.” 
Jackpot. 
“And Shuri has access to her location status I would assume?” 
“Yes, your majesty.” 
“Great, so she has access to her location status, and I have the same clearance level as her/  You can give me her location.” Your reasoning was solid, creating a logical path that the AI could follow. 
“Yes, your majesty, that does appear to be correct. One moment please.”Success. “Queen Shuri is in the basement, interrogation room one.” 
“Interrogation room one?” You asked Griot again, you didn’t even know the palace had a single interrogation room, let alone multiple. 
“Yes, the Queen has been in that room since she left you in the hospital wing.” 
So she had been lying to you. 
“Thank you, Griot, that will be all.” 
There was no doubt in your mind that this had something to do with your shooting and that Shuri thought she was doing good by you by keeping you away from all of it. Trying to shield you from more pain. But that wasn’t what you asked for, it was what she decided you needed. 
You touched your abdomen, trying to gauge your pain level. As Josiah had said, you were in the most technologically advanced country so truly your recovery wouldn’t take more than a few days. Right now, you felt good enough to hobble out of bed and make it out of your room. 
Shuri wanted to lie to you? Fine. But you were going to go down to the basement to figure out exactly what she was up to.  
You made it no more than five feet out of your room before a body in front of you haltered your progress. 
“What are you doing out of bed ngangamsha (your majesty)? You should be resting.” Aneka’s concerned look surprised you. While you knew it was her job to protect you, you saw a twinge of genuine concern in her eyes. 
“She lied to me Aneka.” You took a step to the side and then forward so she was no longer in your path. The dull twinge of pain let you know that this might be more difficult than your first few steps had made it appear, nonetheless you were going to make the journey. 
“Intoni? (What?)” 
“Shuri lied to me. She told me she had council business to take care of, but she didn’t. She’s downstairs in the basement right now. So I’m going down there to see what could be so important that she felt the need to lie to me.” You continued your walk towards the elevator pleasantly surprised that Aneka didn’t appear to try and stop you. 
You took a few more steps before suddenly something pressed against the back of both of your knees, causing you to lose your balance. Falling back right into… a chair? Aneka stood above you, her hands on the handle of the wheelchair that she had just gently gotten you into. “I am not condoning you doing this, however, I know I can not stop you.” 
You nodded, grateful to hear that. 
“But,” Of course there was something. “I will not let you rip your stitches hobbling down there.” 
A smile passed across your face and a similar one came to Ankea’s. 
“Plus, I can talk to you while we make our way down there. I should fill you in, it is for the best.” Aneka pushed you forward as she began to explain just who was awaiting you in the basement. 
While you two made your way down, Shuri, Ayo, Okoye, and your assailant were deep into their interrogation session. 
To Shuri’s credit, she tried to be diplomatic about the whole situation. When she first walked into the room and saw Liam Drockers sitting down with Ayo and Okoye on either side of him, she imagined what her brother would say to her. 
“Patience sisi.” He would say. “Regardless of what he has done, he is deserving of a fair questioning, the same as you and me.” 
And she tried to take T’Challa’s advice, asking Liam simple questions at first.
“Are you an employee of Judas’s Ice Cream shop?” 
No response.
“Are you working for the United States government?” 
No response. 
“Were you aware the person you shot was the Queen of Wakanda, Y/N Y/L/N Udaku?”
A small smile creeped up on Liam’s face after she finished speaking, but still, he said nothing. This infuriated her and she was about ready to cast this whole morally right thing to the side and get the information she needed through more direct means. 
But then her mother's voice came into her head. “Do not let him remove you from yourself intomba (daughter).”
The Queen calmed herself, “I asked you a question. Were you aware the person you shot was  Y/N Y/L/N Udaku, the Queen of Wakanda?” 
While Liam's eyes had largely remained on the floor he pulled them up to her now, showing off the bored look they held. “I didn’t miss, did I?” 
Shuri’s heartbeat increased, so he knew what he was doing. This was a planned attack on her wife? He knew who she was and still chose to take the shot?
“You still thinkin’ bout showin this fool mercy?” No. That was the one voice she didn’t want to listen to. 
Okoye saw the look and Shuri’s eyes and when their gaze finally met, a wave of concern washed over her. She was losing Shuri to this. 
Okoye’s suggestion for a break is what brought them outside, Shuri pacing up and down the hallway trying to decide how to move forward. 
“Is it really that hard of a decision little cuz?” 
“Shut up.” She spoke out loud. Ayo looked over to Okoye wondering if they should step in but Okoye shook her head, hoping that whoever Shuri was speaking to would provide the young girl some clarity. 
“I’m just saying what you’re really thinking here. I mean he shot ya wife, you really cool with letting that slide?” 
“I am not ‘letting it slide’, I’m going about it the diplomatic way N’Jadaka. Something I know you know nothing about.”
Erik laughed at that “Aww shit little panther got some bite to her huh? But you’re right I don’t know shit about the diplomatic way, what I do know however is how to get results, quickly. It’s cool though, give this mother fucker the time and respect he didn’t give to your wife. I’m sure that’s smart.” 
His last comment drew Shuri over the edge. Done with the conversation and confident in her decision, she made her way back over to the door where Ayo and Okoye awaited her. She knew the decision she had come to was harsh but the only thing on her mind was ensuring your safety and getting to the bottom of this. 
“If you do not want to stay for the next part of the interrogation, I am not ordering either of you too. This is the time now to back out of this, without any blood on your hands.” She thought for a moment about how literal her figure of speech was about to become. “Ngokunzulu (Seriously).” 
Okoye looked Shuri up and down. It was in moments like these that she no longer saw the young girl she had watched grow up over the past ten years. The youthful glow had faded over and now left Shuri with a hard exterior that seemed to be ever-present. “Are you sure this is what you want to do ikumkani wam (my queen)?” Okoye offered this out to Shuri now, one shot to think clearly about her decision.
“A hundred percent.” Was Shuri’s simple reply. 
That’s how they ended up here, Ayo holding Liam’s cuffed arms behind his back while Shuri issued blow after blow to his abdomen, turning him effectively into a human punching bag. 
“You done with the games now Liam?” A punch landed on his stomach. “Are you ready to say something and give me the information I need to know?” 
The whole ordeal hurt Okoye to watch but she understood why Shuri had shifted to such drastic means, it was only out of necessity. 
Liam gathered his breath as Shuri removed the jacket she’d been wearing, leaving her in a compression shirt. “No words Liam, really?” She cracked her knuckles and delivered two more blows, one after the other. “That’s okay I’m sure soon enough you will.” 
He shifted in Ayo’s arms for a few seconds for spitting the blood that had pooled in his mouth down at Shuris feet, giving her a defiant stare. 
A smirk rose to Shuri’s face as she looked at the few drops of blood that had gotten on her sneakers. “You know Liam, I had been holding back in the name of my wife. I’ll tell you a secret since, quite frankly, the likelihood of you making it out of Wakanda to repeat this is slim to none. I don’t know much about my wife, we do not have the most conventional marriage so the real things I can say I know about her are few and far in between. But what I do know about my lovely Y/N, she hates violence and views it as the very last play in the book. Convinced me not to kill a spider once just because she said it wasn’t necessary.” 
Shuri smiled at the silly memory of you cussing her out at home when she tried to kill a spider instead of releasing it outside. 
“So, in her name, I haven't been using any of my enhanced strength. This,” She points to the purple bruises that had started to form on the skin of his stomach. “It's all me. But, since you want to be disrespectful and spit blood on my shoes, we’re giving all that up.” Quicker than anyone in the room could have seen, Shuri put her hands up and delivered a devastatingly strong blow to his stomach. Providing enough force that even Ayo had to take a step back to steady herself and absorb some of the shock of the blow. 
You watched in horror from the other side of the glass in the interrogation room as Liam doubled over in pain, gasping for air. Aneka and yourself had been in the room just long enough to watch him spit blood on your wife's shoes. 
“Now, we’re going to try this again.” Shuri started with the same line of questions from before. “Are you working for the United States government?” 
Once Liam pulled himself together, he gave the Queen no answer, just continuing his stare of contempt. 
Shuri chuckled, “Again then? Okay.” She let out another punch, Ayo being more prepared this time held Liam’s body tight. 
“She’s gonna kill him Aneka.” You spoke quietly from the wheelchair as you watched the whole ordeal take place. “We can’t let her kill him, that’s not her.” 
Aneka nodded, “But there is nothing we can do right now my Queen. Ayo and Okoye are in there with her, they will not let it go too far.” 
“I need to get in there.” Shuri wasn’t going to listen to Ayo or Okoye, you didn’t even know if she was going to listen to you. But as far as you were concerned this had already gone far enough. You started moving your wheelchair towards the door but Aneka stopped you. 
“Your majesty I cannot let you in there, bringing you down here was a breach of protocol enough. To have you in there would just be a blatant disregard for the Queen’s wishes.” Aneka declared. 
Both of your attention was brought back to Shuri and Liam when she hit him in the same spot again, leading him to cough up more blood. 
“You go in there and bring my wife out to me or I go in there and bring her out myself. Two choices, you pick.” You folded your arms like a child, waiting for Aneka’s response. 
She looked into the interrogation room and back to you. “Bast you two are perfect for each other. Stubborn just alike.” 
With that she left you, walking out and knocking before entering the other room. 
“ikumkani wam,” She interjected, pulling Shuri’s attention from the man and onto the Dora. 
“What is it Aneka, I am busy.” Shuri looked at her impatiently. 
“uY/n ulapha kwaye angathanda ukuthetha nawe (Y/N is here and would like to talk to you).” Aneka switched to their mother tongue so Liam couldn’t understand what they were saying. 
Shuri’s face faltered for a second. You were here? How long had you been watching? How much had you seen? “I am in the middle of an inter-” 
The sound of you banging on the wall to indicate you didn’t care what she was doing cut Shuri off. She looked at Liam before speaking to Ayo and Okoye. “Put him down, I will be back shortly.” In a second Shuri was out of the room and opening the door to the other side of the interrogation room, meeting your icy gaze. 
“What are you doing out of bed sithandwa sam (my love)?” Shuri’s concern was real, raking her eyes over your body. 
“You lied to me.” You weren't wasting time tip-toeing around the subject, 
“I was protecting you.” Shuri’s justification came quickly, as she took a step closer to you. The light illuminated her face better now and you were able to see the small spots of blood that had splattered on her face. 
Against your better judgment, you called her closer to you “Come here.” She obliged kneeling so you two were at eye level, mimicking the position you two had been in this morning. You reached to hold her face in your hand, wiping the small dots of blood away with your thumb. “You lied to me,” You said again looking into her eyes. 
“I was trying to-” Shuri tried again to explain this to you but you cut her off with a gentle tap to her lips with your free hand. 
“I know you were trying to protect me Shuri, but I am your wife. You can’t lie to me.” The look in your eyes conveyed the seriousness of your comments. 
The excuses started to form in Shuri’s mouth but she stopped them. “I- I know and I’m sorry. I should have told you what I was doing.” She let her head rest in your hand and averted her eyes down, fiddling with the material from your hospital gown. 
“Yes, you should have.” While your words were harsh, the tone and way you caressed her face let her know you weren't really mad with her. 
“Let me make this right umfazi (wife).” Shuri declared sitting up so she looked you in the eyes once again. “The man, his name is Liam Drockers he-” 
“I already know Shuri.” You smiled at your wife who looked at you cluelessly. “Aneka filled me in on our way down here, I know everything. I want to speak with him.” 
Shuri pulled out of your grasp now, appalled you would even ask something like that. “Absolutely not Y/N, there is no logical reason to risk your life by putting you in there with him.”
“First there is no risk to my life, not only is he handcuffed but Ayo and Okoye will be in there with us. Second Shuri, you owe me. This has everything to do with me and you tried to keep it from me, I deserve at least one chance to speak with him. Alone.” You were confident in your rebuttal, Shuri tried to find a counterargument for every point you made but she couldn't. 
“Five minutes with Okoye, Ayo, and Aneka inside with you.” Shuri brought her demands to the table and you thought about it for a second. Was she seriously that worried for your safety that she thought you needed three Dora’s in there with you and a restrained and beaten man? 
“Deal.” 
With that Shuri wheeled you out of the viewing area and to the interrogation room. Aneka held the door open and your wife pushed you through the entryway, stopping at the frame per your request. 
“Oh yeah and pack a bag, we’re going to Genelia tomorrow.” You shut the door leaving your very confused wife on the other side. You two were going where? 
In front of you sat a very bruised Liam Drockers, Ayo, and Okoye on his sides You always found it so funny how no matter how big or bad someone seemed, at the end of the day they were made of flesh and bones just like you. 
Wheeling up to the table you sat and stared at your attacker for a moment. Trying to search for something you were never going to find, a reason or justification. 
“Alright, Liam I’m going to make this very easy for you.” You interlaced your fingers and let them sit on the table, this is where you shined. “In the other room, my wife is waiting with bated breath for me to tell her it's okay to come in here and continue to beat the living shit out of you. Now me personally, as you heard before, I’m not a fan of violence. I think it's an unnecessary evil of the world, something we really can function without.” You paused letting out a chuckle. “Not that I think that you believe the same,” You gestured down to your stomach. “You clearly favor my wife when it comes to that way of thinking.” 
Liam's eyes moved all over you, attempting to size you up as a threat. 
“So, now that you know that much about me, let me tell you how this is going to work. Either A. we can make this super simple, you answer every question I have and agree to the plan we have in place. Or, I call my wife back in here and she beats you to a pulp.” 
A wheezing breath came from your attacker and you couldn’t help but notice how weak he looked now, the beating from Shuri having done a good chunk of damage. “I’m not sayin shit, I know my rights.”
You smiled at this, leaning closer to him. “Your rights? You think your rights will protect you here?” The look on Liam’s face changed for a split second, his facade slipping. “You’re in the basement interrogation room of the most technologically advanced country in the world because you shot one of their Queens. You were flown in on a top-secret jet, there's no record of you ever even being in Wakanda. Nobody knows you’re here.” 
“That’s- that’s not true.” Liam stammered out. “There are people out there who know who I am, who are looking for me.” 
This got the heartiest laugh from you yet. “Mallory? Really? You think she’d save you?” The idea he was pushing was almost comical. “You were a gun for hire, you served your purpose and now there's nothing left for you to do, you were disposable from the beginning. Do you seriously believe she’d risk a national incident to save one measly hit man?” 
The truthfulness of your words hit Liam like a ton of bricks, there was no getting out of this. 
“So,” You began. “I’ll ask the question my wife has been trying to ask. What the fuck was your mission and who do you report to.” 
Liam shifted in his chair, looking around the room as he assessed his situation. “It all started with Mallory.” 
Taglist:  @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal @shurisbigtoe @saintwrld @pinkwright @chatitajens @playhousedistee @motheroffae @injeolmiee @tchhairbandhere @._mrqs @msudaku @lppriceisright @bratydoll @blackqueengold @iheartsolo @cafehyunji @abenomeiiii @naomis-daydream @ilroachsworld @locoforshuri @nrc-06
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chainofhyrule · 4 months
Note
So I remember sending this to you a while ago when you still had ignis, right? I made the ficlet I wrote twilight, but honestly? I think Legend might fit the bill a little better.
Legend with an anemic reader.
I mean think about it:
Depressed bunny man sees the only person he looks forward to seeing on a daily basis freezing because they're anemic (but he doesn't know that).
He's like, are you sick? Why tf are you so cold? and readers just like well I have a chronic illness lmao
Cue him shooting up and being like "chronic huh?????" like that one family feud meme
I'm sorry but I get giddy thinking about this. He's the black cat lover in the relationship, 100%
And his favorite person, i.e. the only person he actually likes-- could be dying (not really but that's what he thinks lmao)????? He can't just let it slide, oh no. Not when it's you.
So bunny man does what bunny man thinks is best. Your anemia becomes your free coupon for unlimited cuddles, any time of day (He would fight god himself if god tried to tear you off of him)
Trinkets. Might give you little things like hand warmers or gloves or fuzzy socks or even his hat in a pinch, just to keep your hands and feet warm (let it be known his hat is only for your hands. Feet gross him out, I don't make the rules)
And when he finally understands what anemia really is, he's momming you into eating properly. He's a mom friend, the mom in the relationship, you've called him mom before literally just to fuck with him.
"You're fucking eating it even if I have to pin you down and shovel it in your face because I fucking will" (I personally headcanon that he has the mouth of a sailor. It just fits)
"Eat, goddamnit, I don't want you getting sick"
"Did you take your iron this morning? No? You're taking it. Now."
Will stand up randomly to fetch an extra blanket if you're still cold.
"Shut up. I didn't get up for nothing, don't get used to it" he'd scoff as he wraps you up in it and grumpily kisses your forehead.
Totally lets you sleep in his bedroll with him.
...And fucking hates it when you put your cold feet against his legs, or your freezing fingers on his neck. Screams like a bitch. Everyone in the camp has heard it; Wars actually started calling him princess at one point and it almost ended in bloodshed.
"...You're gonna get it, you little shit," he'll growl at you when you make him scream like that. But he can't resist your cute face and that sweet, innocent giggle, can he?
...No, of course not.
Bunny man who has a black cat personality has my heart💖
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NO BUT WHY DO I NEED THIS???
I have reread this like a least a DOZEN times by now and HHHHHHHHHH—
HELLO?
Just imagine him being so reluctantly sweet about it though 😭😭😭
Recruiting the others to keep an eye on you (I’d hc only Rulie or Wars) when he has to go do something. On some of the better days he still has a tendency to fuss. On the worse ones, you’d best bet your ass you ain’t doing anything unless it’s absolutely necessary. Time must chide him many times that your aren’t fragile, but in his mind it’s only “mustcareforynmusttakecareofynmustnotletynstrainthemselves—WHYAREN’TTHEYWEARINGTHEGLOVESIGAVETHEM???”
poor bby would revert to the bunny “must care for the kit and keep kit warm” function and would rather die than admit it 😭😭😭
best bet under that glove is a magic cold-resistant ring of some sort 🤭
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there-goes-thefighter · 8 months
Text
Who Really Won? Part Eighteen: Miss Me More
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This is my fic. Please do not repost this (reblogs are good). Do not copy my writing. Do not steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing and my original character(s).
Series Masterlist
NFL Masterlist
(warnings: )
(pairing: travis kelce x f!reader; nontoxic!tom brady x f!reader)
(word count: 609)
(series taglist: @kelcemenow @vir-tual @kmc1989 @kristencochefski1125 @calirindo @kkrenae @killatravtramp @luvvtrent @hearts4papayas @theimperiumchronicles)
After the trial, Tom desperately tried to come back into (y/n)’s life. He apologized for his mistakes as best he could. He had shown up for the trial thinking he could sway the judge’s ruling in his favor, but Raquel representing (y/n) put the final nail in that coffin. He left the trial a different man. He never realized the damage he’d done before. As much as he tried to reach out, he was met with silence. 
Finally, three weeks after the trial, he got a chance. (y/n) agreed to see him one last time. She felt like it was too much, but she had seen his demeanor change during the trial. She was grateful that Travis trusted her to do this. He encouraged her to face it all head-on so that she’d be ready for their future. She thought he seemed a bit too eager when he’d said it, but she brushed it off. 
Sitting down with Tom felt surreal. What had happened was said and done, but there was a different man in front of her now. It took a few minutes, but eventually Tom spoke first.
“I never realized the severity of the things I did. I can’t blame it on anything but myself. There’s no excuse for anything. Seeing you and Raquel, especially you, bring all those things to light made me see the monster I’d turned into. You never deserved any of that. I’m…I’m really sorry.”
(y/n) took in Tom’s words. There was certainly a lot she needed to unpack from that, but also so much that she needed to say. 
“I can see that you’ve realized the severity of your words and actions. I saw it during the trial. Tom, I built myself back up from the ruins you left me in. Who I am now is different from when I was with you. The person I turned into because of you is someone I don’t even know now. The man you were to me is someone I’ve been afraid of since.”
A tear rolled down Tom’s cheek. He now knew of the monster he was, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when she said it. 
“I’m so sorry I hurt you this much.”
“When were you with Raquel?”
Tom sighed, “It was during my divorce. She was in Tampa for a trip or something and I dove right in. We were only together for a few months.”
“She told me some of the details. Spared me the rest. I just want to know that this won’t happen to another woman.”
Tom looked at her like she had just accused him of killing somebody. “(y/n), no. Not after this. You have opened my eyes.”
Somehow, through all the turmoil, (y/n) had made an honest man out of Tom Brady. He changed his ways, no longer living for the chase and expecting everything to fall at his feet. The life he lived changed. Tom was no longer the “ladies man” the NFL world had carved him out to be. This time, he was seeking something real. 
Travis didn’t post on Instagram often, especially about his private life. This one was special. He typed out his caption, reread it, and posted the picture. The comments and likes flooded in, blowing up his phone the whole afternoon. 
It was a picture of him and (y/n) that Patrick had taken after the first game of the season. Travis was in the sling, but he was fully embracing (y/n). It was his favorite picture. Below the photo was a short caption, “we both scored, but who really won?”
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WC ::: 5,200
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A/N ::: I have it bad for Bakugo right now. I pretty much worked on this all damn day. Which will explain any errors you may find. I read and reread on Google Docs but it's almost 11pm and my tired eyes can take no more. It if's horrific, please tell me so I can fix it. I hate a misspelled word. Grammatical is fine. Love grammatical errors. I do them on purpose. Now I'm rambling and need to go to bed. Enjoy! Thank you for having Baku-Flu with me.
C/W ::: Too tired to elaborate. I'll fix it tomorrow. But MINORS, LOOK DOWN AND WALK AWAY. DOWN ... AWAY. Aged up Bakugo, Sorta slow burn, playful banter, alcohol use (not much), oral {M->F}, sex, quippy conversation. The End. Like I said, I'll fix this tomorrow, objectifying Bakugo? Admiring his ass. Idk. Leave me alone.
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Hard to Get
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It wasn't long after you turned on the tv that your mind started to wander. You were thinking about your best friend's birthday party you just got home from. You were thinking about Bakugo who was there, looking so delicious. 
His neck muscles turned and twitched whenever he moved his head or swallowed something. His lips curled into a sick and tight smirk whenever he looked at you. Your stomach would drop to your pussy and it made you feel sick in the best way.
The show you were watching was of little interest. Your hands had been resting on your spread legs as you lay on the couch, rubbing your inner thighs in slow, soft circles. Unaware of just how much you were turning yourself on while mindlessly daydreaming of him. Of Bakugo, being the one who's resting between your knees, touching you so sweetly. Wishing he was the one edging you closer and closer to your release.
The clock on your mantel chimed, signaling the end of this day and the start of a new one. You had no reason to stay up so you decided to call it and go to bed. You brush your teeth. Wash your face (with cold water - one last attempt at cooling yourself off) and climb into bed.
It was an hour before you even felt tired and it pissed you off that you laid there tossing and turning for so long. Still horny. Still too stubborn to give in and bring yourself some relief. You didn't want to touch yourself. You wanted Bakugo to do it. And since he wasn't here, you were going to throw a little hissy fit that only you would know about. Whatever.
You were just nodding off in your soft blankets and warm bed when your phone lit up and a pretty little chime resonated through your dark room.
"Hey." Is all it said. You didn't recognize the number, not even a little bit. So you texted back that they have the wrong number. No one you know generally texts this late at night anyway. Putting the phone down on your nightstand you rolled over and squished yourself back down into the mattress.
"No, I don't have the wrong number. I got this from {friend's name}, y/n =)."
"Ok, so all that tells me is you're a creepy asshole who harassed my best friend and got my cell number from them. Lose it. Permanently."
"Tsktsktsk. That's no way to talk to the guy who you were making fuck me eyes at over the birthday cake. Now is it, sweetheart?"
You laughed, "{Males name}, I'm so relieved to hear from you! I thought since you were there with your wife and kids you wouldn't notice me making fuck me eyes at you. When can I see you again? WITHOUT the fam, ok? They were a real drag."
"The FUCK! You calling me a creepy asshole is real rich. It's Bakugo, dumbass."
"Who?" This was too fun.
"Oh my God, you're so annoying, y/n. Bye. YOU lose MY number PERMANENTLY!"
"Bakugo, waitttt wait wait! I'm fucking with you lol! Jesus. You're so serious all the time! What're you doing up so late? Isn't it past your bedtime?"
"I don't have a bedtime, little girl. I make my own rules, baby."
"Who you calling a little girl? I'll have you know I no longer piss the bed. Well, unintentionally, anyway."
"YOU'RE FUCKING SICK!"
"You love it. There's no shame when it comes to sex. The dirtier the better, I say."
"..."
"Pussy got your tongue?"
"What?"
You huffed, "Pussy (Cat) got your tongue?"
"..."
Minutes passed before he said anything so you texted him again. "You typing with one hand? You know, some phones have a one-handed setting. It might be helpful for when you're ... well, using one hand for typing and one hand for something else. Just FYI. Anyway, if you're done, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I have stuff I gotta do tomorrow."
"..."
And that was the end of that conversation with Bakugo.
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You woke up just the way you went to sleep: Horny. But you overslept and had some things to take care of before you could even think about doing that. Your shower was quick and way less hot than usual. The clothes you put on were loose-fitting and casual. This is what Saturday's were made for. Being comfortable, getting shit done and then spending the day lounging around.
There was one parking spot left at the post office and you were about to take it when some fucker on a motorcycle swooped in and stole it right out from underneath your tires.
"What the fuck, asshole!" You got out of your car and yelled at the person with the black, stickered helmet sitting on their shoulders. "I was going to park there, kindly move your fucking bike? Jesus."
The person came over to you and stood unnervingly close. So close to you that you had to back up against your car. "Um, personal space, dick." You pushed them away, your fingers dug into their hard chest muscles. You had to admit, with how much you've wanted to fuck lately, they felt so good. But that didn't change the fact they were a total piece of shit for taking this so far.
"You don't recognize me, little girl?"
"Little girl??" Where have you heard that recently. You narrowed your eyes and said, "{Males name}? Is that you hiding your asshole face behind the helmet?"
The man laughed and pulled his helmet off. "Yeah, yeah. It's me, {Males name}. You're a fucking idiot." He chuckled again and leaned in to hug you.
"Heyyy, Bakugo." You said in a quiet little voice. You wrapped your arms around his neck and backed yourself up the rest of the way against your car, pulling him with you. "You ..." you exhaled in his ear, "are so ..." pushing your tits into his pecs, "fucking ... mmmuch of an asshole." Pushing him away you pointed at the spot he took before you even had a chance to turn your blinker on. "I - why do you even need a whole spot? You can just leave that dumb thing on the sidewalk!"
"DON'T!" He grabbed you by the cheeks, squishing them together, causing your lips to squish out. His sudden movement and his hands so rough on you made you weak in the knees. "Don't talk about her like that. Ok?" He looked at his motorcycle and back at you.
You put your hands up, surrendering yourself to his tantrum. "S-sorry. Shit, sorry, ok?" He let go of your face and took a couple of steps back. "What did you need to do here? I can do it for you." He offered.
"I just have to ship this package and drop this in the outbox. I think I can handle it." You started to get back into your car.
"I'm sorry. Fuck. I didn't mean to ---" you shook your head at him, silently asking him to not bother with the apology.
"I get it. And you know what? Here." You tossed the small package to him and dug a $10 out of your pocket and gave that to him as well. "Thanks, parking spot stealer. Catch ya on the flipside."
He moved out of the way as you drove off without so much as a smile, a wave or even a resentful glare. 
But he waved at you.
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The next time you saw Bakugo was at the coffee shop with your friend's boyfriend. You walked in and saw him with his stupid pointy blond hair and that stupid grimace on his stupid ... hot face.
You pretended to not see him even though you noticed him as soon as you walked up to the large window front.
The door chimed, signaling the entrance of a new patron. For some reason, all eyes went to you. Like you were the millionth customer or something.
Still, you kept your eyes on the floor and made your way straight to the order counter.
The cashier took your order and you were about to hand them the $9 for your fancy coffee when Bakugo swooped in and pushed your hand down so he could pay for you.
"Hey, y/n. Uh, lemme get this for ya? Let me make it up for the other day, yeah?" He tried to smile but it didn't really come across as much of a smile. More like a dominant show of teeth.
"Oh, you're ... you're here, too. I can pay for this, thanks tho---" You did your best to convince him to fuck off. But he wouldn't have any of it.
"Goddamn it, don't be an asshole. Let me buy you a coffee. C-consider this will be like a first step in our dating life, hm?" Fuck, he was hot. And he had at least one friend. Even if that friend was your best friend's boyfriend.
"Jesus, Bakugo. Fine! Fine. Pay for the damn coffee. Thanks. Thank you. Ok? You happy? I owe you now." You stepped back so he could pay. He put his hand on the curve of your waist as he moved passed you. It was fairly obvious what kind of effect it had on you. Your face turned a sweet shade of pink, your eyes blew out until they were almost all pupils. You just hoped he wouldn't see.
"You ok, y/n? You look like yo'ure going to barf." He asked.
"I'm not going to barf, you idiot. I just," you looked down the front of his body and left your eyes on his inseam.
"Y/n? you just ...?" He lifted your chin with his index finger, bent down a little and tilted his head to look into your eyes before your face was completely up.
"Huh? Wha-? Oh! I just need coffee. Just ... coffee. Can I get that to go, please? I gotta, I gotta go." You grabbed the coffee and stormed out.
"Hey! Y/n, whe- wait!" Bakugo called after you but you didn't stop. "The fuck. The actual fuck." He said to his friend.
They shrugged. "I've always thought she was a little odd." He laughed.
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You called up your friend who gave him your cell number. Immediately going into your yelled speech as soon as they answered their phone.
"WHAT is wrong with you? You know, since you gave that dumbass my phone number he's been texting me and turning up everywhere I go! Did you give him my calendar too? 'Cuz I swear to fucking god, he was at the post office the other day. He stole my fucking parking spot. And then he was at the coffee shop just now. I swear to god he's everywhere now, {best friend's name}!! What have you done?"
"Who is this?" She laughed.
"Fuck, really?!" You yelled at her again. "I'm serious. He's everywhere. He's ... he's ..." You couldn't finish your thought.
"Hot as shit? You want his cock? You want his lips all over your body? You want his babiessss!? Oh my god! You want his babies!" She was in hysterics at this thought.
"You're the devil. You're really ... straight from hell. And I love you. But he's popping up in the places I frequent that I've never seen him at before."
There was silence on her end, until you heard voices in the background.
"Is {boyfriend's name} home?" You waited for her to answer you, hearing a third voice in the room. "Is Bakugo there? Jesus Christ. He's stealing you from me. I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." Enough was enough. Though you didn't know how friendly he had been with them in the past, you do know that Bakugo was becoming more and more a part of your life and the lives of your close friends.
Your cell rang. It was a number that you hadn't saved, but you suspected it was your new stalker.
"Hello, Bakugo?"
"Hi, pissy pants. Come over." You didn't love the nickname.
"Come over where? And no. I don't want to." You couldn't help but smile. You were really enjoying the attention he was giving you. Despite your best efforts to hate him, he was wearing you down.
"Come to your girlfriend's house. We're having an impromptu game night. Bring some shit to drink. See you in 30. And don't shower. You smell great as it is. See ya, sweetheart." And he hung up. Not even giving you a change to protest his garbage invitation to someone else's house.
"Don't shower? That's ... huh." You grabbed your keys and wallet and drove to the store to buy some shit to drink, as per his instruction.
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You parked in your friend's driveway, essentially blocking Bakugo's motorcycle in between your car and their garage. You laughed at how pissed it would probably make him. A silent victory. 
A petty victory.
Walking in the front door, you saw Bakugo sitting on the couch. His legs spread, hands resting on his thighs. Just daring you to look at him. Anywhere.
"What's going on tonight?" You asked. "Asshat over here called me and told me to bring shit to drink and that it was an impromptu game night? Well, I'm here and I have the shit." Raising the bottles in your hand you showed them off to the 3 other people there.
They all cheered and came to you. Your friend and her boyfriend took the bottles and Bakugo gave you a hug. A lingering hug.
"Hi, pissy pants," he smiled devilishly at you and pressed his hips into yours and his nose into your neck.
It sends a pulse throughout your whole body. You slipped and your breath got caught in your throat. You hoped he wouldn't notice.
"Excited to see me, too? Good. I can't stop thinking about you." He said against your ear.
"I, uh ... yeah. What's up?" You patted him on the back and pushed him away, taking a deep breath when you were finally free of his grasp. "Who's ready for game night? Let's go!"
The next hour or so went by in a haze. The group of you laughing and drinking and playing some board game that was on the coffee table. You won a lot. Bakugo kept losing and it made you smile. He was a terrible loser to his core. There was no in between. At one point, he almost flipped the coffee table over. 
You were starting to get drunk. You knew it because that display of raw agitation at something so stupid made your stomach knot up. His shit coping was turning you on.
"I'll be right back." You stood and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. You walked in and turned the light on and shut the door behind you. You tried to shut it behind you but there was a foot in the way. "Jesus. Bakugo, what the fuck." You laughed.
He pushed his way in and locked the door behind him. "We're … talking."
"Now?" You asked. "I was just about to pee. You can wait." You started to walk back toward the door but he grabbed your waist and pushed you back against the sink.
"We're talking, y/n. So fucking listen."
"Ok, I'm listening. What do you want to talk about?" You smiled up at him, your lips slightly parted and your eyes set on his.
"You." He said. "You're driving me fucking insane, ya fuckin' brat. You're always walking around with those pretty tits and that fat ass, making me lose my goddamn mind. I can't stop thinking about you. Your lips, your pussy ... Fuck. I wanna taste you." His hands were all over you. Raking up and down your back, over your ass and thighs.
"Mmm, you think I have a fat ass?" You whispered. He nodded. "You're so silly, Bakugo. You think you can just say those things to me and I'll let you have me? You really think that?"
He nodded again. "I'm going to have you. And you're … going to let me. That's how this is gonna go."
"Is it?" You laughed. "What if I say no?"
"Then I'm going to fuck you anyway. You want me to. I know it. I like games too, sometimes. I can play any ... little ... thing … you … want. But, I'm just going to take what I want, y/n. And you're going to be begging me to keep going." He grabbed your tits and squeezed them until you moaned.
"I bet you'd love that." You exhaled.
"Fuck, I bet you would too." He pulled you in for a kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you could feel your body getting hot. Your reaction to him was just about the most primal thing you'd ever experienced. You two were drawn to each other like magnets.
"Mmm ... mm-mm." You pushed him back and put your fingers to your lips. "What are we doing, Bakugo? This ... I don't know what you think this is ... but ... I just." You shook your head. "I need to pee. So ... shoo! Go on."
"You're so full of shit. Just admit you want me as much as I want you." He licked his lips and turned around, unlocking the door and walking out. "See you in a minute." He winked at you.
You locked the door behind him and went to the toilet. You looked at yourself in the mirror. "This can't be real. This can't be fucking real." You sat down and tried to compose yourself.
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The next time you saw Bakugo was at the grocery store. You were getting some groceries for the week when you heard someone behind you clearing their throat.
It was him.
"Hi, pissy pants. Fancy seeing you here, of all places."
"Ohh-kayy. You don't even fucking live in this neighborhood! What the hell are you doing over here? Seriously, Bakugo." You looked around to make sure there were people who could hear you. "I don't love you! You need to stop following me, I WILL call the police, you freak!" You couldn't stay composed any longer and started to laugh.
"Oh, ha-ha. God you're an asshole." He eventually laughed, too. "Seriously, though. You won't text me back. Why?"
You shrugged, "I dunno. You're weird."
"What do you mean by that, y/n?"
"You're ... just ... I don't know." You shook your head. "I need to get back to my shopping."
He nodded. "Yeah, I get it. I'm not what you thought I'd be. Not really. But I'm not all bad, either, y/n."
"Hmm, I don't know. I think you're ... well, maybe I've misjudged you. It's not like I really know you. But, I don't know. I'm sorry for saying you're weird. You're not weird, necessarily. I don't know." You looked at him, curious about what he'd say next.
"It's ok. I'm used to people thinking I'm an asshole. It's just ... I like you. I wanna ... I don't know." He leaned over his cart and put his chin in the palms of his hands.
"Go out with me?"
"I thought you'd never ask, y/n! This is, oh my gosh. This is all so sudden! Yes! Yes, of course I'll go out with you!" He smirked. "Let me know when, y/n. See ya later, sweetheart." He took off in the opposite direction, knowing full well you were staring at his ass.
You bit your lip and watched him walk away. "Yup, still hot. Fuck."
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It was the night of your friend's boyfriend's birthday party. Bakugo had been texting you for days, trying to figure out where you'd be and what you'd be doing. You told him you'd be there. So there you were. In a pretty red dress that hugged your curves. And matched his eyes.
"Well, hello." He said as you walked up to him. "Wow, you look so fucking sexy. I love this. I love this dress. I love ... it." He was trying to contain himself.
"Oh, this old thing?" You giggled and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him onto the dance floor. "Dance with me, Bakugo!"
"I'm not really much of a dancer."
"That's disappointing. They say that men who dance are 10x's more likely to make a woman climax in bed. Or on the couch. Or the shower. Anywhere. Guess I'll dance by myself." You shrugged and laughed at your bullshit fact and the effect it had on his face.
"Oh my God, you're going to be the death of me, y/n. Come on." He put his arm around your waist and you two danced for the rest of the night.
A slow song came on and he pulled you to him. He tucked your hand against his chest and he held you close by the small of your back with his right hand. “You having fun, y/n?” He asked, looking down the front of your dress.
“Not as much fun as you, apparently. I can feel that, by the way.” You smirked, gesturing down between the two of you with your eyes. “But yeah, I am, actually. Thank you for dancing with me. You’re surprisingly not that shit at it.” 
Bakugo lay his head down on your shoulder and softly kissed your neck. "Let's get out of here." He said, his lips touching your ear as he raised his head and whispered to you. "Let's go back to your place."
You nodded. "Yes. NOW." You grabbed his hand and walked out.
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Once you got to your place, you ran upstairs and put on some music. Your favorite song came on and you danced around your room for a minute before Bakugo walked in, looking at you with the most heavy, lustful eyes you've ever seen.
He slowly walked over to you and put his hands on your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. It was sweet and soft. "Y/n. How hot you are."
You shook your head, "Me? Bakugo, you are ... you are ... so fucking hot. You make me feel so ... I don't know. Like ... like I have no control over myself. You just ... you do this thing to me. It's like my whole body catches fire and then melts and I just want to ... fuck, I want to fuck you."
"I think I can make that happen." He looked at you, waiting for you to make the next move.
You pulled him over to your bed and pushed him down on it. "I'm in charge. Got it? I'm in charge." You climbed on top of him, your hands pushing his shoulders back as you straddled his waist.
"No, no you're not. But nice try." He flipped you over and held your wrists above your head. "You're mine, y/n. You're all fucking mine. I'm going to make you feel good. I'm gonna make you cum so hard, you'll be screaming my name for days because you’ll be too damn stupid to remember anything else." He smiled and kissed your neck, his hand moving down your body to your panties.
You gasped and bucked your hips up, "Fuck, Bakugo. That feels so good." Your fingers were in his hair, pulling it at the roots.
He pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside your pussy. "Jesus. You're so fucking wet, y/n. Is this for me? This wet pussy is for me? Fuck." He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow, tight circles.
Your back arched off the bed, "God, yes, Bakugo. Fuck! Oh my fucking god, th- ... Don't … Please don't fucking stop!" You screamed.
"You gonna cum for me, baby? Huh? You gonna cum all over my fingers? I know you are. But not yet." He pulled his fingers from you, licked them clean and kissed your lips.
You grabbed his face and kissed him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "Bakugo, I want ... lemme suck your cock."
"Hohhh fuck." He moaned. "You will, sweetheart. You will. But not right now. Right now ..." he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down around his knees. His cock was hard and throbbing.
"Oh, fuck, Bakugo." Your eyes were wide with wonder as you sat up on your elbows on the bed. The dress pooled around your waist and your panties sat haphazardly covering your cunt. None of that mattered. All you could see right now was his huge cock.
And it saw you, too.
"It's yours, y/n. It's all fucking yours. So fucking take it, you little brat." He pushed your legs apart and rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit. "Is this what you want? Huh? This big fucking cock inside of your little pussy? Is it?"
"Oh my god, Bakugo! I do, so bad." You whimpered.
"I know you do. That's why I'm going to give it to you." He pushed himself inside of you, slowly stretching you out until you were begging for more.
"More, Bakugo. Give me more. Fuck, fuck me! Oh my god!" You pulled him down on top of you, your hands clawing at his back.
"Fuck, y/n. You're so fucking tight, baby. You're so fucking wet and tight. God, this pussy is perfect. I'm going to fuck you every day, you got that?" He started to thrust faster, his hips slamming into yours with each stroke.
Your back arched up off the bed as he fucked you. You were on the edge, your orgasm building with every move he made. "Oh? Gettin' close? I guess all that dancing really paid off. I should slow the fuck down. Wouldn't want you cumming too fast now. Nnnope." He slowed to a barely discernible drag. Your eyes nearly went full white as they twisted to the back of your head.
"Ba-ku-go ... ple--- ... ya, please. You have ... to ... mmmm … oh my god." You whined as he looked at your contorting face.
"I know, baby. I know. I got you. I'll give you what you want, sweetheart. You're going to cum for me, ok?" He kissed your neck and started to speed up again, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper.
"Yes! Oh my god, don’t … don’t … hoh fuck!" You were on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off at any moment.
He grabbed your tits, squeezing them and rolling your nipples between his fingers. "Fuck! You're so fucking sexy. I wanna taste those tits, baby." He bent down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as he kept fucking you.
Your hands were in his hair again, pulling and tugging as he fucked you harder and harder. Your body started to shake and your breath caught in your throat.
"I'm going to … cum, Bakugo! Fuck! Pleasepleaseplease!" You screamed as you came hard around his cock. "Oh my god! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Bakugo!"
You rode out the twitching and shaking of your body as he continued to fuck you. Dragging out more moans from you than anyone had ever bothered to do before.
His slow pace came to an even more painful stop. He kissed your neck until you were writhing below him. Begging him to do something.
Anything.
Bakugo slid back until just his tip was inside of you. He looked down at where he disappeared into your body and pulled out the rest of the way. His eyes darted back up to yours and he watched you all the way until his lips were encircling your clit.
"Oh my god!" You cried out as he sucked and licked your clit, his tongue pushing in and out of your pussy. "Fuck! Bakugo!" You grabbed his hair and pulled it, the pain making him moan against you. He licked and sucked on you so sloppily that the room was filled with the sounds of wet lapping. It was loud and erotic and almost too much. But it was just enough. You were so close to cumming again that it hurt. Your body was tight. The wire bound within you was ready to snap if he hit you just right once more.
"Cum on my tongue, y/n. Cum for me, baby. Fuck, you taste so good." He said as he pushed two fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you.
Your back arched and your toes curled as you came again. Your legs shaking and your hands gripping the sheets. Your hips bucked up against his face as he sucked and licked you through your orgasm.
Bakugo sat back on his knees, his cock still hard and glistening with your juices. He slowly pumped his cock as he looked down at you. "You're so fucking filthy. I could watch you cum for me all day long." He grabbed your legs and pulled you down to him so that your ass was right at the edge of the bed.
He pushed his cock into you again, this time with a sense of urgency and a need to cum himself. He fucked you hard and deep, his hips slamming into yours with every thrust. He was so close to cumming that you could see it in his face.
"Your - mngh - your face looks stupid when you're about to cum. Y'know that?" You tried to laugh but all you could do was moan at how good his cock filled you. How good it felt as it dragged inside of you.
He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he fucked you harder. "Oh god, y/n. You feel so fucking good. I'm going to cum in you, ok?" He moaned as he fucked you.
"Yes! Fucking cum in me ... hmm ..." You moaned as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you. "Fill me up, Bakugo. Fuck!" You screamed as you came again, your body shaking and your pussy tightening around him.
Bakugo pumped his hips a few more times before he came inside of you, his cum filling you up and spilling out onto the bed. "Oh, fuck! Y/n! Fuck!" He moaned as he kept fucking you through his orgasm.
He eventually stopped, his cock still inside of you as he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck. "Oh my god, y/n. That was ... that was so fucking good." He kissed your neck and chest before he rolled over and lay next to you on the bed.
"And to think, what I said about men who dance was total bullshit."
"I knew it! I knew you were lying about that." Bakugo laughed. "You're a little shit, you know that?"
"Yeah, I know. But I got you to dance with me, though." You smiled.
"You did." He smiled back. "But you're the one in bed with me."
You looked over at him and he was flipping you off with both hands.
"Fuck you." He laughed.
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Taglist ::: @millennialmagicalgirl @callm3senpaii @darkstarlight82 (just in case it decides to work, idk! If not I'll send it to you, too.)
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Ok so, as I said yesterday I'm rereading Sea of Monsters and I've gotta admit, there are a lot of parts that I didn't remember from it that deserve more appreciation.
(Long post incoming! 😅)
One of them that I really want to talk about is after Annabeth listens to the siren song and learns that her fatal flaw is hubris. When she was listening to the sirens, she saw a scene of her father and Athena happily together, along with Luke all sitting in central park. Surrounding them is a new Manhattan that Annabeth has built and it looks so much better than the western civilization that the gods have built.
When she's telling Percy about her fatal flaw, she talks about how the west represents a lot of the greatest things to ever come from mankind, but how your view starts to change when all you can see are the bad things. She says that would make someone start to think more like Luke. That if she could tear everything down and start everything a new, that she would be able to run and build things better. That if she could rebuild it, the world wouldn't be as messed up. There would be no more war, nobody homeless and left on the streets to fend for themselves.
And this is absolutely correct, this is essentially why Luke is doing this all to begin with. This is his core goal (purely Luke's and not Kronos). To make a better world for everyone. Where no one would have to go what he and countless others had been through. So that maybe others would be able to see the good in the world after all his life he had only been shown the bad.
But then there are these couple paragraphs after that. Those are super interesting to me and it gives so much insight on the universe and how certain people think.
"She (Annabeth) gazed into the distance. 'I'm not sure. But we have to save camp. If we don't stop Luke...'
She didn't need to finish. If Luke's way of thinking could even tempt Annabeth, there was no telling how many other half-bloods might join him."
First thing to remember, this is all from Percy's perspective. These are all his own thoughts and how he thinks about things. So I think the way Percy speaking about Annabeth in the last paragraph kinda shows how he tends to think of her as strong for not thinking like Luke. Like Luke is kind of weak for thinking the way he does about things needing to change and rebelling against the gods. But also like Luke's way of thinking of his envisioning of a better world without the gods in control is, in itself, something dangerous.
Now, to the other demigods, if the gods were to fall and those demigods were to join Luke's/ Kronos's side, then... It really wouldn't be that dangerous for them. At least not much more dangerous than it is for them now with the gods ruling over everything. Because the gods and Titans are very much the same.
But ultimately, my main point is, Percy seems to have this underlying fear and aversion to anyone doing anything to go against the gods. But why? Why when we see that he is to his core, more on the rebellious side? Much like the ocean, Percy doesn't like to be restrained.
Because, he's been influenced by the gods and camp (especially Chiron). He's been steered to believe that even the thought of going against the gods is wrong and shouldn't be done. He's had Chiron who's been telling him that the gods falling out of power would be the worst thing to ever happen. One god in particular (ahem, Hermes) has used Percy's strong sense of loyalty and family to lead him, to manipulate him farther and put in his head that turning his back on his family (in this case the gods) is something that you should never do.
And it's not just Percy who has been raised to think this way, it's a lot of the other demigods at camp who stay loyal to the gods until their final breaths. Who stay loyal to them even as they watch their siblings die left and right before their eyes.
And Kronos is doing this exact same thing to Luke. It's the same thing that Kronos would've done to his subjects if he would've won the war. There is no difference between the gods and the Titans and, once again, Percy and Luke showcase that perfectly.
And people who believe that the gods are better than the Titans like to bring up the line from TLT when Luke says something along the lines of "the ones who serve Kronos will be treated well and be powerful, the others who don't will be killed."
Yeah, the gods do the exact same thing. They kill or torture anyone who defies them, and gives power to the ones who serve them. We have plenty of examples of this, two major ones are right in the last chapters of The Last Olympian. Luke rebelled against the gods, as he was fated to, and he died as he was fated to, along with most of the other traitors. And Percy, the one who had served the gods the most, he was offered godhood. Power. So yeah, there really is no difference between them.
But I just think it's so interesting how those two paragraphs can give so much insight into how Percy views things. And this is just from the second book. And the book that tends to be most people's least favorite book in the series.
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magpiefngrl · 7 months
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Fic author self-rec
Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙
Thank you for the tag @tenthousandyearsx a few weeks ago! I wanted to wait and get a couple of my WIPs ready and posted before doing it, but I'm now back to full time work so it's unlikely I'll finish those WIPs any time soon. 😢 So, here's 5 old fics of mine that I'm fond of. It's hard to choose a favourite, so I chose rather randomly, whatever popped in my head first tbh.
They're all drarry.
The Unquiet Grave (E, 21,5k, gothic vibes)
Quote: ‘What will happen is this. You’ll drag me to a poncy restaurant one evening soon, and I’ll complain about the number of forks and the size of the portions. Then I’ll drag you to my local and you’ll complain about the wine list and the clientele. This will be a recurring theme. But every time, every single time, we’ll end up in my bed — or yours — and I’ll make you forget your own name.’
My thoughts: I reread this yesterday after years, and I ended up really enjoying it. I particularly liked the dialogue in this read. I'm pretty happy with how this fic turned out. It's got a gothic mood and fits an autumnal mood; I often rec it for Halloween.
Sometimes a man needs (E, 5.5k, Flower Shop)
Quote: Harry knew what a huge mistake the whole thing was, but he’d already fallen for Malfoy, so what harm would a few more nights do? What harm would it do to kiss Malfoy some more and inhale his intoxicating smell? What harm was it that Malfoy spent almost every evening with Harry and whispered things in the dark that he never alluded to in the day? Harry was in love and in pain, but he might as well get what he could while he could.
My thoughts: I love the magical flower shop I created here, the types of flowers I came up with, and, craft-wise, I love Harry's voice. I remember I'd struggled with this fic, starting and deleting, starting and deleting, until I got a handle on Harry's voice and then it flowed in a morning.
The Gift (E, 29,5k, Captive Prince references)
Quote:  Draco’s desires — at least where Potter is concerned — are a tangle, messed up like he is. A war of contradictions: Draco wants to please Potter, and he wants to hurt him. He wants to see Potter in ecstasy, but he can’t allow himself to be the one to do it. So, he’s chosen another way, a way that gives and takes at the same time. ‘You’ve been such a good boy so far,’ Draco tells Potter and watches with pleasure his instant reaction, the blood colouring his face. ‘I think you deserve a treat for being so good. So… obedient. Which is why Adam here will give you a… gift.’
My thoughts: Used to have complicated feelings about this one. I'd hidden it for years and only revealed it a couple of months ago. Draco is a writer here and channels many of my doubts and insecurities. It's not a fic that has a wide appeal, not cute or fluffy at all, but I love my prose here and I had fun with inserting CaPri nods and writing excerpts of a magical CaPri story.
The Boy Who Died (E, 26.8k, Voldemort Wins AU)
Quote: At times he thought he noticed his own lust mirrored in Malfoy’s gaze, like when he cooked and Harry sat on the kitchen table, mouth and fingers sticky with treacle syrup or brown sugar, or when Harry left the shower in his pyjama bottoms, his hair soft like a waterfall down his bare shoulders. Harry had taken to sleeping topless; he couldn’t get used to Malfoy’s fancy pyjamas, and although Malfoy had looked extremely put out the first time, he didn’t object.
My thoughts: I'm just so fond of this one! I thought of the reincarnation plot because of wangxian and I peppered some wangxian Easter eggs in this fic, but I didn't expect to fall in love with this dystopian, Voldemort Wins 'verse. It's a bleak world but somehow this fic has become one of my comfort reads and I've reread it often since posting it.
Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There (E, 17.4k, Mirror of Erised alternate dimension)
Quote: Getting to know Harry was to love him: hearing him laugh at Weasley’s jokes, watching him sleep, witnessing his passionate devotion to what was right and the ardor with which he supported his friends. He had butterflies in his stomach just at the sight of him; a sentiment he attempted to hide under a mask of cool detachment, because if anyone found out, Draco would be kicked out of Slytherin for incurable soppiness.
My thoughts: I love the Mirror universe I came up with, and am proud of the treatment of the Shrieking Shack in this fic, which I haven't seen elsewhere. It's one of my works I'm most proud of. I didn't expect it'd be emotional, but I've received a bunch of comments, some of them very recently, saying it made readers cry. oops?
I'm guessing many of you have done the latest round of this author game. So, tagging everyone who hasn't done it and wants to! Would love to see the fics you rec and why xx
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dreaming-of-lu · 1 year
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This is an "emergency ask" as you put it in your rules. I'm having a really hard time. I'm slowly losing my working memory (thinking of words, short-term memory loss, misplacing things all the time, etc.) My doctors are trying to figure it out, but there's a strong possibility it will only ever get worse.
I used to have an amazing memory. Near photographic, according to my teachers. And to have lost all of that, I don't know what I'm going to do.
Anyway, I just wanted to ask for some comfort from Time and Wild. You can use the specifics of my situation if you want to, but you don't have to. Thanks for your time, whether you write something for this ask or not, your writing helps bring a smile to my face, even if I have to reread it to remember what it was, haha.
I'm sorry for answering a bit late. Hope you get your answer about it soon! Do take care. I'm so happy that my writing brings a smile to your face, I hope I did its justice for you. 💚💚
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"I have a condition," was the first thing you said when Link looked at you, worried and alarmed. He gently grabbed your hand, motioning his head for you to continue. The long talks of the issue and how nobody knew what was causing it; made his grip tighten on your hand. He looked at you, determination burning deep within his blue eyes.
"I'll be there every step of the way for you."
Time
Nothing shook Time when it came to situations that needed order or calming the group with a single look that says it all. He was resilient, a shoulder to lean on, and a man who faced it all during his lifetime. The only one that caught him off guard was darling you. You, who stand so stubbornly before him, now stood confused underneath the door frame, staring off with a confuddled look upon your features.
Glaring straight ahead while the grimace grew, clenching and unclenching your hand. Time approaches; carefully grabbing a hand, his heart clenched at the lost look in your eyes. He pushes down the feelings, knowing that this wasn't about him nor to feel pity. He needed to be a shoulder for you, helping you when you needed him, and aid he shall give.
"What's wrong?" Time's voice was soft, coaxing you gently out of your haze. His hand grasped yours, the other running his thumb across the vastness of your cheek, his eye veiled with sternness and an underlying worry.
"It's just…I don't know; frustrating not to be able to remember this one thing, and when I tried to wrack my brain," you choked, "what did I do to deserve this?"
Time stood quiet, eye flickering before heavily sighing,
"You did nothing wrong, things happen out of our control, and I know it isn't fair; love. Life in this universe is finicky; fate is tricky, though all that matters is how strong we come out in the end."
"I'm so tired," you wept, "I'm tired of this, Link."
"I know the feeling," his lips ghosted over your forehead; humming a soft tune under his breath, "I'm with you every step of the way, darling."
Wild
Wild knew your condition well, not being able to remember certain things that he so desperately desired to recall those memories that he once had. Waking up in cold sweat, staring at the stars with a sinking feeling of melancholy aching deep in his chest as sleep once again swept past him. He wished it didn't happen to you, the long gaze into the distance, the furrowing of your brows as you struggled to remember a particular word. Quietly at night, wondering why fate was such an unkind thing to those around him.
He knows that itch of what it's like to be confused and lost at why things feel familiar, yet the line's not clicking. He never judged, always understanding and patient with you, just as you have been with him.
"Wild," He hums, eyes never leaving the pot, "what is this red powder?"
Confused, he looks up from the pot to see you holding a small glass vial, half filled with a familiar red powder. Wild reaches over, grabbing the vial out of your hands with a soft chuckle leaving his lips.
"Goron spice, wildberry," he presses a kiss against the side of your head, "we're not using that tonight."
"Goron spice?" you tilted your head to the side, scrunching your nose before that subtle click in your reaction as the bashful look overtook you.
"Whoops," you smiled shyly, "sorry about that, dear heart."
"It's alright," Wild booped your nose, leaning in afterward to rub his own against yours, "that's what I'm here, hmm?"
"Of course."
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drgrlfriend · 6 months
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Fic Writer's Showcase Game
I was tagged by @there-must-be-a-lock - thanks!
Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3
First Fic: Full Circle
So, this is how I got into writing fanfic. Someone on a non-fandom message board I was on was a big fan of fanfiction, and I thought, "Wow, I haven't thought about fanfiction since my X-Files days! I wonder what it's like now?" I went to FFN (this was pre-AO3) and the top fandom was Pirates of the Caribbean, which I didn't know much about, and I think the second top was High School Musical, and the third was X-Men. So I read some X-Men stories, especially Wolverine/Rogue, and one of them was a very compelling story about pregnancy loss which ended with a very ambivalent ending -- basically, a phone ringing and you don't know if the character will pick up. My friends, I COULD NOT SLEEP. I had experienced a pregnancy loss in the prior year, and I *had* to write a happy ending to this story. In retrospect, it was the RUDEST thing but I was new to fandom and I didn't know anything. I wrote it in an email and then eventually sent it to the author like a cat dropping a dead mouse in her lap, and she was very kind and encouraged me to post it. And that was ::checks notes:: at least a decade ago. Yikes.
Last Fic:
Chrome-Plated Heart Technically a WIP but it's all completed and is just posting twice a week until it's done. A Winterhawk Marvel Pacific Rim AU.
One-Hit Fandom:
Hope
I am kind of a serial fandom monogamist and once I'm in a fandom I tend to linger for a few years, so I only have one one-off in the Cabin Pressure fandom and it's more of a ficlet. A little Douglas Richardson & Martin Crieff cutscene from St. Petersburg. I don't even know their portmanteau!
Favorite Fic in the Fandom with the Most Works:
Lucky in Love
Wow, I had to check but I'm actually now tied for fandoms -- Marvel and Teen Wolf both have 18 fics each. So, I'll go with Marvel, and Lucky in Love, my first Winterhawk fic. I think it's rare to write a fic and then not want to change much about it a few years down the road, but I still reread this one from time to time and I still really like it! Fic I Wish More People Read:
Quriosity
Hmmm. It seems greedy to say so because it got a great reception, both within the 00Q fandom and just objectively in terms of number of hits, etc., but I feel like there's not as much crossover between the Bond fandoms and others I'm in, so if there's one fic of mine I would encourage people to take a chance and try if they know me from Marvel or Teen Wolf fandoms it's this one. There's a lot of fics in my repertoire that have themes of touch starvation / touch aversion but this one is the mostest.
Fic I Agonized Over the Most:
Freedom's Reach
I'm tempted to say the current fic I'm writing (my selkie!Bucky MTH2022 fic) but I think that's just a tendency to think whatever you're writing now is putting up the hardest fight. Freedom's Reach is my Winterhawk historical AU (e.g. American Civil War era) with mail order bride, and I don't know what I was thinking to write 1.) Inherently uneven power dynamic, which is something I typically dislike 2.) In an era I know nothing about 3.) Requiring frequent misunderstandings which I typically dislike. My poor beta @kangofu-cb is a saint for all the whining and self-doubt she had to put up with as I wondered whether I was walking all those lines.
Fic that Sprang Fully Formed: For Everything There is a Season
So, Google tells me that the Four Seasons Total Landscaping debacle happened on November 7th, 2020, which means that within the week I had started posting this fic, and I'm pretty sure I wrote it in one evening. What can I say, I was inspired to think of ... Pierce ... and his ... Restore America's Glory supporters ... getting a pile of manure dumped on him. Go figure.
Proud of for Whatever Reason:
Pretty When You Cry
I am NOT good at writing short, capture-a-pivotal-moment-and-let-it-speak-for-itself fics. As the length of this post attests, I am a prototypical ADHD overexplainer. This fic managed to be short and sweet and intensely smutty but with all the feels somehow crammed in. And then, to overexplain, I had to do a second chapter from the other POV but I like how (to me at least) it doesn't feel repetitive or boring; it's the same events and dialogue but the internal narrative is so different it's still interesting. So, yeah, smutty little feels fic with Winterhawk failing a one-night-stand, check it out. I think between nox and lou most of the Winterhawk regulars already got tagged, so I'm tagging outside the fandom or people I haven't caught up with in awhile so, um ... @flamingo-queen-writes , @drunktuesdays , @pantstomatch, @shatteredhourglass, @1000-directions ... and anyone who wants to do this; I haven't been online for a bit so I'm sure I missed a bunch!
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yellowocaballero · 3 months
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please tell me about untitled document gravity falls transcendence au. what?
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The minute I saw this from Ami I was like "omfg of course you can have it queen <3" and the minute I saw it from you I was like "wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy."
Anyway, I really loved the Transcendence AU when I was younger and looking back it really was (and still is! people still write for it!) a beautiful thing to exist. The setting itself was so expansive and ripe for worldbuilding. The basic rules of the universe were so simple - 'the near future, with supernatural creatures and demons and magic!' - and opened up so much room for creativity and fun. The timeline was on such an expansive scale literally everybody could have an OC and they didn't even need to rub shoulders. Reincarnation topics meant that everybody got to write their favorite character AND make them an OC. The big creators made such great OCs that they became part of the universe and lore of the series. And for me, specifically, it was SO GEN and very family and worldbuilding oriented with almost NO shipping. I think at least some of the mods were ace and it was just the most ace-friendly fandom I'd ever seen. Haven't found that again lately.
I reread 'Return Rebirth Rewrite' and got nostalgic. I always had a mental image of how Lionel's deal with Alcor went, and then I decided to experience the absolute joy of finally having the skill to put to paper something that's always been in your head.
If you HAVE read RRR it's been a while, so TL;DR in a way that preserves the fun of the story underneath- RRR is about a normal twelve year old kid Dipper living with his reincarnated sister and loving father and discovering that he was actually a demon named Alcor in a past life.
Very short transcendentally self-indulgent fic under the cut. Hey, as it turns out, Alcor is FUCKING HARD to write.
Was it fate?
One class taken to satisfy a college requirement, chosen because it didn’t conflict with his Book-Binding class, spiraled into a certification. A high school ex-boyfriend that bought her cigarettes and induced a lifelong habit. Parents were dead - nobody to talk him out of it. Maybe it was a storm of factors that blew one decision into motion, a decision that would have stayed unmoving and silent if he’d taken the nurse’s advice and gotten some rest. Or maybe Lionel was just the sort of person who would always end up here, crouched in a motel room far from home, summoning a demon. Maybe he was weak.
Maya would have said that the love was too strong. But Maya was gone, and an oak tree grown too large collapsed under its own weight.
Lionel bought the supplies from the occult store in a daze. The past two hours had been a blur - he barely even remembered making the decision. A certification to archive the occult meant that he’d read dozens of books on demon summoning. He could do it in his sleep, and was practically doing so. He chose the best demon for the job with a distant, unaffected logic, and borrowed the motel office printer to print out a reference picture for a summoning circle. 
This was the stupidest possible thing to do, but he wasn’t stupid. It was a good summoning. He chose the best demon. An informed insanity. The only thing he didn’t do was write down his script for the deal. No need. It wasn’t exactly complicated. And writing it down would have made it real, and he couldn’t afford for anything to be real right now, so the resolution would have to stay in the making.
The summoning circle was drawn with a steady hand. The candles were lit with a decisive lighter tab. The summoning invocation was recited in a clear, firm tone. Passive voice. Dr. Gomez would have taken points off this essay. Would have taken points from his brain. Was he insane? Was he going insane? Was this insanity?
Lionel only really snapped back to reality once he was confronted with it. The candles flickered, then extinguished. Shadows bubbled and rose, snapping free of their outlines and leaking forward in pure blackness. Sulfur blew into the room on a gust of cold wind, as if standing by the shores of the sea. Lionel opened a portal and brought a demon into reality, and brought his own mind with it. 
He only properly realized what he had done once Alcor the Dreambender loomed before him. Maybe that was the first cruelty of a demon. Now he was going to bargain away his soul knowing exactly what he was doing.
Alcor was black and gold, a humanoid figure of shadow latticed with blocks of gold thread. Imprints of wings patterned the motel wall behind him, extending his presence in the room until he was almost crowding out Lionel. The top hat floating above his head was, incongruously, a regular top hat. Maybe? Lionel had only read about the top hat. Was that what top hats looked like? Why not a powdered wig? 
“Who dares summon Alcor the Dreambender?”
A desperate man, Lionel thought frantically. But he couldn’t exactly say that. 
Power stances, seem in control, take a stand. But Lionel wasn’t in the mood to pretend he was fooling everybody. His legs gave out from under him, and he slumped to his knees. Alcor angled his head downwards, somehow visibly unimpressed and bored. 
He should have prepared a script, but he would have forgotten it instantly. Lionel ended up speaking from the heart. The books said Alcor liked that sort of thing, but it wasn’t really a calculated move. He didn’t know how to do anything differently.
“Maya’s dead,” Lionel said plainly. “Maya’s - she’s my wife. Dead. Um - the baby.” 
Alcor’s unimpressed air tripled. Lionel couldn’t even muster shame. 
“The baby’s not going to make it. Respiratory distress syndrome and pulmonary hemorrhage. Respiratory failure, soon. I need - I need your help. Alcor. Please save my baby, Alcor.”
Alcor was unmoved. He crossed his arms and sighed, like a particularly exhausted doctor who had seen one too many desperate patients that day and honestly couldn’t give a shit anymore. “Another day, another little sob story. Let me guess, you’ll do anything?” His tone turned a little nasally and mocking. “You’ll even sell your soul, Mister Demon, just save my special little baby?”
The pointless mockery jolted Lionel back down to earth. Every piece of literature warned about demonic games and cruelty. Was this cruelty? It just sounded like somebody who didn’t even care. 
“Yes,” Lionel said. He wasn’t the kind of person who took the bait. Used to drive Maya mad during arguments. “Heal my baby. Make her strong and healthy and never sick. And - let me live the rest of my natural life, then take my soul. That’s my terms.”
Bored, Alcor said, “I can give you ten years of life before taking your soul.”
Lionel’s head snapped up, and he met Alcor’s eyes for the first time. At a certain point, the demon had crossed his legs and began floating in midair, one elbow propped on a folded knee and chin buried in his hand. His shadows had lightened somewhat, and now he appeared only like a man covered in shadow. “I can’t do that. Ten is too young to lose a father.”
“That’s your issue?” Alcor tilted his head, dark eyebrows arching upwards. “Not ‘thirty five is too young to die?’”
“Am I here because I give a shit about myself?” Lionel cried. Wasn’t that obvious? If the worst moment of Lionel’s life was tedious to Alcor, shouldn’t this be obvious? “I can’t leave her without anybody to love her. She won’t have anybody else. Please, come on - I know you don’t - don’t understand, but I can’t leave her alone.”
“Trust me,” Alcor said, flat and bored, “if there’s one thing I understand, it’s parents abandoning their kids. See it all the time. Your little girl would get along fine without a father.”
Demonic negotiations weren’t supposed to go like this. Lionel was too emotional, too confused. And despite Alcor’s boredom and distance, the topic seemed oddly - personal? Could that possibly be correct?
“That’s not what I want for her! I’m giving up my soul for her life, I want - I want it to be perfect. I want to tell her how much we wanted her every day. I want her to grow up with a dog. I want swimming lessons and birthday parties and vacations and - and all of it, Alcor. I have to be there.” Lionel took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Thirty years. That’s the maximum I’ll give. The life I want for her needs me in it. It’s already missing Maya. I won’t take any more from her.”
Alcor was silent for a second, long enough to make Lionel’s heart leap in his chest, before he finally sighed. “You’re one of those people who loves too much, aren’t you? People like you always lead unhappy lives.” He straightened, dropping down onto the floor and walking forward. The shadows slowly receded, and a man’s face began to emerge within Alcor. “Fine. Let me see the baby first before we shake on anything. An angelic act like this takes up a lot of energy. I’m not being hard on the price just to be mean, you know.”
Lionel stepped backwards. He knew that binding circles didn’t work on Alcor, but it was another thing to see him casually step outside of it. He was wearing the same antiquated clothing as in the illustrations, like a mannequin from a museum come to life. Like a haunted piece of the history Lionel loved so much, pulled from its rightful place by his sheer desperation.
He looked like anybody else. A complexion like Lionel’s own, mud brown hair gravity defying and framing a young face. He looked as old as Lionel. It put his exhaustion into sharp perspective - not an ancient demon wearing the form of a human, but just an old man seeming much younger. Or a young man grown too old.
It was even worse to look up at him now, and Lionel scrambled to his feet. He looked around the hotel room, as if the baby was about to roll out from underneath a bed. “She’s not here. She’s in the NICU. Please don’t teleport into the NICU, you’ll cause a panic.” 
“Bossy. Don’t worry, this is perfectly safe.” Alcor held out his hands in front of him, like a child waiting for a treat. “And…tah-dah!”
Lionel’s baby dropped from midair into Alcor’s arms. He almost screamed.
They said she’d die without intubation. Her tiny presence in Alcor’s arms should kill her. But Alcor quickly pressed a blunt finger onto her forehead, and a warm blue glow wrapped itself around her body. She slept soundly, swaddled in thin blankets, so tiny and skinny and red that she could barely be mistaken for a human baby at all. Lionel looked at her and saw a premature animal that would never grow up and become a person - a life form that would never even wake up. Seeing her in Alcor’s arms was stressful, but in a sideways way she seemed to fit.
“Let’s see the damage,” Alcor muttered to her. Bizarrely, he held her carefully and well. “You’re like a can of beans, you know that? Few hundred years ago you would have been DOA. Now look at you. Wrinkly cutie -”
Alcor halted. The last of his shadows fell away, and his eyes widened.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alcor whispered.
The only thing worse than a premature baby at death’s door was a premature baby at death’s door that surprised a demon. Lionel stepped forward, hand half-outreached. “What? What’s wrong?”
Alcor didn’t respond. He just stared at the baby, eyes wide and frozen still. His lips mouthed something, but Lionel couldn’t make it out.
“Alcor?” Lionel asked hesitantly. “Is there something wrong with her?”
That jolted Alcor back into awareness. He looked between Lionel and the baby several times, shoulders drawn back, almost with new eyes. Suddenly and strangely, he seemed a lot more human. “Do you believe in fate, Lionel Sterling?”’
There was only one way to answer that question truthfully - with any sort of certainty. “If this is fate, I must have done something horrible in my past life.”
“Not how that works.” Alcor’s eyes were locked on the baby, as if he couldn’t tear himself away. He seemed almost dizzy. “Lionel. You really want her to live a long and healthy life?”
“I - of course.” 
“You’ll be the best father you can?” Alcor held the baby a little closer to his chest. “She’ll be the happiest kid in the world?”
“That’s what I want,” Lionel said helplessly. “I want that more than anything.”
“How nice.” Something heavy and frantic was churning in Alcor, and Lionel began to have the worst possible feeling. “I’ve been bored, you know. So bored. So bored I’ve been pretty depressed. Things just seem meaningless, you know? My last friend died years ago. I’m not really close with anybody right now, not even family. I’ve been wondering what to do about it. When I get bored I get a little weird. Maybe I’m a little weird right now.” Alcor looked up at Lionel for the first time, and Lionel realized with a cold shock that his eyes were just as wild as Lionel’s. “I feel so far beyond weird right now it’s almost funny. But it’s not boring, so it feels like a good idea.”
“Can you give me back my baby?” Lionel asked quietly.
“New deal.” Alcor’s face split into a grin, wild and insane and light. “I’ll heal your baby. Perfect health guaranteed. And! She will have certified, bona-fide Alcor protection her entire life. Nothing lethally unfortunate will ever happen to her or to you. Protection for both of you and good luck for all. Double and! You’ll keep your soul. Hell, you’ll definitely live longer.” 
For a second of complete stupidity, the deal seemed fantastic. The deal sounded amazing. Any deal that didn’t include losing his life or his soul was better than their first arrangement. But Lionel was desperate, not stupid. “What’s the catch?”
Alcor looked down at the baby, rubbing his thumb against her forehead. Quietly, he said, “I’m going to reinvent reality to give her a twin brother. Your end of the deal is to take care of him like you take care of her. Raise him as if he was your own son. That’s it. Easy.” Alcor paused a beat. “Well, not that taking care of kids is easy, and I can guarantee that this one will be a bit of a brat, but probably easier than dying. Dying’s pretty easy too, actually -”
“Like a changeling?” Lionel asked, alarmed. “You’re not taking her away, you’re just - adding a child?”
“Yup. Like a buy one, get one free sort of thing. I guess it’s like a changeling!”
“That’s it?” That still sounded too good to be true. “Will the child be evil or anything? Will it hurt the baby? What species will it be?”
“Who cares! This is a sweet deal and you know it. You can’t afford to say no and we both know that too.” Alcor shifted the baby into one arm and extended his other hand, wreathing it in blue flames. “So do we have a deal?”
Alcor was right. The extra child situation was bizarre, but two sets of diapers was infinitely better than a ten year lifespan. This was probably the best deal anybody had ever gotten for such a big favor. He couldn’t afford to press it.
“Is this going to fuck me over?”
“Lionel,” Alcor said, and for some reason he seemed dead serious, “I’m trusting you here. More than I’ve trusted anybody in hundreds of years. You’re a good person. I promise you’ll only regret this a little.”
And Lionel knew that was the best he was ever going to get, so he reached out and shook on it.
The blue flames enveloped him, a brief second of white-hot chill, before they extinguished. Lionel shuddered, and he felt something strange deep in his soul - as if something and hooked a chain around it, or bolted it to a surface and let it squirm. 
Alcor unceremoniously tossed the baby in the air, letting her blink out of existence and hopefully back into the NICU. He clapped his sparking hands, grinning maniacally and remarkably human. 
“Time to wrap up my affairs! Better write a goodbye note to Mike, leave a few emergency charms for little Alice - oh, give them Lucy Ann’s contact information for emergencies, let her know where I’m going too. She hovers. The Flock bleat and bitch if I don’t tell them where I am, so I better elect a president or something and let them self-govern. This is going to be fun! And bizarre! Don’t worry about a thing on your end, Lionel. Get some rest, and your reality and memories should be completely rewritten by the time you wake up in the morning.” Alcor reached out and clapped a reassuring hand on Lionel’s shoulder, as if the reassurance would actually make him feel better instead of a lot worse. “Trust me, you don’t want to remember this. It’ll make your life a living hell. Unless you like that sort of thing?”
Inanely, Lionel could only say, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” 
“Really? I’m a Dream Demon, I can help! I want to be nice to you.” Nobody who actually wanted to be nice to somebody said that. “Here, close your eyes. I’ll knock you out. You’ll sleep right through the restructuring of the universe, promise!”
“Wait,” Lionel said, “on second thought, I really -”
“Night night!”
A soft index finger pressed against Lionel’s forehead, and all went dark.
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claudiajcregg · 1 month
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Tell Other People About Your WIPs
make a list of all your WIPs with a brief description of each and then people can ask you questions about them and then tag other people.
Tagged by both @onekisstotakewithme and @miabicicletta 💜💜💜 Thank you, guys <3 I don't know who to tag that hasn't been tagged already. Interested? Tag, you're it! :) (Please do know that there are no set sections. Pick whatever you want. I went the deranged route.)
I have an outdated WIP list, and many others unaccounted for. This is just a selection of stuff I could see myself posting or editing/retooling to write something new. I love talking about my WIPs, about as much as I hate being perceived because they are not remotely interesting. (I also love knowing which ones people are interested in! I have an incentive to work on them!) (Instead of snippets, part of my feedback loop is sending actual rough drafts to get a sense of whether it's worth working on more.)
Multichapters, different levels of completion.
S5 Pregnancy AU. My main WIP. Can you believe I’ve had this idea for a year… almost to the day? I’ve been stuck since November bc I don’t know how I want this one to end, beyond a birth. (As I’ve mentioned in the past, I feel like this has legs to become a fluffy universe. I have ideas! Timelines!) Gist of it: CJ gets pregnant circa Zooey's kidnapping. How does it change S5? It's less angsty than you think.
Campaign bars, aka campaign conversations sometimes happened at bars in the 1998 campaign. Fun stuff. I need to pick it right back.
What Once Was Ours or the IM AU (2021), aka IM ends with a breakup. Not a WIP. Not a UFO. A secret third thing. (“Finished” but not edited, and I’m doubtful people would be interested. Probably bc of some bittersweet ~memories~ attached to it. I mean, I shared a third of it to discord and people couldn’t care less, at least after a while. Now, better IM AUs are being posted these days; I'm not in a rush.) 33 chapters. 150k words. I do reread it every once in a while, and I cannot put it down. But its 'age' takes me aback. If things had been different, I'd have posted this in H2 2021/Q1 2022 (or even the planned Q2-3 2021). But alas.
The “Almost Ready, question mark” Category
Another SVD prompt meme claim: what if CJ has the crush first. The thing is, I tend to write her as having a relatively obvious crush on him at first until something makes her wise up. So this is just some ridiculous, post-first-meeting thoughts. Most of it was written in one sitting! It kinda fits with something in the campaign bars fic, too.
Post birth, hospital story: A couple of hours after their bb girl is born. Pure fluff. Recently reworked it to make it less wordy. Still failed, but it’s better focused now.
Many ficlets – the few I did post on Tumblr that haven’t been posted to the story I’m collecting them in, plus a couple more. I'm thinking the ice skating one, Jan 22, a few post-eps I wrote last year, etc.
Ambitious Projects I don't think are happening right away (or ever), but probably have a detailed outline somewhere
(I put this up instead of last, because the next category has faves, but it's also a long one.)
Danny is back a bit earlier on s7. Toby leaks (or tries to leak? I always wavered) the shuttle to him, as he and CJ are getting closer.
Simon lives. How does his relationship with CJ evolve post-honeymoon phase? What is it like when Danny returns?
You’ve got mail AU. This outline had two ways the climax could go. I had fun.
Epistolary collab (?) fic. Probably an X + 1 fic. The only one with nothing written; don’t rule out writing it individually at some point.
And because this is so long already (but not as long as it could be)… A few more under the cut – more "I just want to make sure I like them" and "this meme reminded me I meant to pick those back up." And they are still not all. (How do you summarize seven years of writing?? I've only posted 20-something of them, lol.)
“Almost Ready (but I feel like I want to make changes to them) (might just redo them altogether)”
Haunted by the Notion, 2007 edition. My beta Ruth suggested this when she edited the other story, and I wrote it around then. It’s another Christmas dinner at Filomena, and, eight years later, things are different. I feel like it hits expected beats, and is just missing some oomph. Maybe. (As much as I do like it, half tempted to make it 2009. Or later.)
Heaven’s here…: A interrupted proposal. I’ve written many proposals over the years, and I love toying with different ideas and setups. Danny takes the lead here, but I’ve been intrigued by the idea of having CJ do the final twist.
5 to 6 am 'me' time. Another story inspired by last year’s rewatch that I wrote right at the start of it (so Jan 2023?). It has five short parts with five different years of what CJ describes in the pilot as her “me time.” This is one when I think one per year would be fun, but I don’t want to repeat myself.
One bed, “sexy” edition. An AU to a sort of AU (one of the drabbles from this summer) and… it's what it says on the tin. The world does not need to read my attempts at smut. If I didn’t put it in the previous category, it’s because I am not sure that I want to post it. (All the previous attempts are locked somewhere; unfortunately, someone loves this one and noticed when I tried to do that, lol.)
First baby kick: I remember writing this while in grad school (so, late 2017? First half of 2018) but I lost it, along other fic, when my laptop had to be reset because I used Bear to write back then, but didn’t have sync across devices. I rewrote it, and I feel like it's not the same, but still. It's sweet! Includes: Danny talking to the baby, domestic fluff, and… baby kicks!
“This meme reminded me they exist and I love them, so don't be surprised if they are posted before anything in a previous category”
(Lbr, if I added something about them in this post at all, it’s because they sparked some memory.)
Mosaic broken hearts: CJ, circa S4, jealousy. Prompted by a former fandom friend, back in my productive era (first half of 2021; before that friend just ghosted me.)
I can’t believe I captured your heart (pancake breakfast, three words and eight letters). For a while there, I edited it so much but then I fell off. iirc, it was part of some morning-related prompts I saw around that I tried to fulfill in 2018? 2019? And they had like internal progression. But this one was the best of the 3-4, and I kept tweaking it.
Green light of forgiveness (IM-ish) — there are many other IM/IM-Tomorrow snippets I’ve written over the years. I’m not sure if this one makes much sense, but I liked it enough.
Distance — I recall liking this one! Might have to bump it up. CJ is in Africa, Danny is at the Farm and sulking because they left off on some sort of argument. There is some Danny-Abbey friendship goodness here. I even have a second file that is “Distance - shorter version (it’s not)”
Danny writes fiction, shows it to CJ during her pregnancy and she’s into it. Technically written. I would probably try to take another stab at it. Third time might be the charm?
San Andreo phone call/fallout from ID. I just had the idea of CJ reaching out once things calm down. This is one of those fics I’ve written a version of every year or so, but I think there was one I liked quite a bit.
Terrible taste in men — a run-in with an OC ex of CJ. It was so dumb.
Fka Impatience - actually beta’d three years ago (by that fandom friend I've mentioned twice before… actually, three times) and “done”. I just think I’d change so much about it these days. It started being something else but ended up being a CJ-Toby friendship story in which they have lunch and catch up. But I would want to rewrite most of it now, and not just because it’s from like… 2019 (but finished in 2021).
I forgot this one initially! he's passing by, rare as the comet in my sky - 2? 3? times CJ thinks she sees Danny somewhere, and one time she does. (Which tried to work in the 'I remember shunning you' line.) I even wrote some sort of sequel later! Probably useless.
I said I would post a lightning round with fics that are either also done but not ready for me to mention them, or just… not done at all. The length of this post and how much I've spent on it is embarrassing. To give a general overview: in line with the nonsense I've been mentioning, includes phone calls at the end of S7, also a few friendship-focused fics around that time, too; present-day stuff; anniversaries; Hollis fundraisers; weddings; many ficlets, introspective thoughts, a “yes day” fic that's super sweet but needs better dares, the third memoir idea (the original one!!!!) that I had three years ago… And those are mostly the ones I had preselected, lol.
If you're interested, I can screenshoot this part in the notes app if you message me!
Anyway, this is embarrassing, and the worst part is that it's not all. fml.
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aydann-runs · 4 months
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“Hey Mike,” Dallas says, following him inside when he goes to get another beer. “I found this stuck in the back of a drawer in the Airstream. It seemed like something you’d want to decide what to do with.”
Michael takes the crumpled envelope Dallas is holding out. Alex's name is scrawled across the front, and he recognizes it immediately. It's not like he’s written many letters in his life.
“You read it?” Michael asks aggressively. Before Dallas has a chance to respond, Michael grimaces and holds up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Sorry. I know you didn't read the letter. Stuff from that time in my life makes me defensive, and when it involves Alex…”
“Yeah man, I get it. It's okay,” Dallas says. He claps Michael on the back. “I'm gonna head back outside, but come on out when you're ready.”
Michael nods and sinks down onto Max's couch. Carefully, he lays the envelope on his thigh and smoothes it out the best he can. He remembers writing this letter, agonizing for weeks over whether or not to send it. He remembers getting drunk one night and stumbling to the nearest blue USPS box and pushing the letter through the slot.
He remembers sobering up a bit a few hours later and running back to the mailbox, using his telekinesis to pull the letter back out.
Michael remembers shoving the letter away, out of sight, as soon as he'd gotten back to the trailer. He'd done his very best not to think about it over the next half a dozen years, and then Alex had come home, had become his home, and he'd forgotten about the letter entirely.
Michael swallows hard and runs a hand through his curls. He's tempted to just toss it in the fire pit, to let it burn to ashes. He still remembers what he'd written to Alex, even if it's been close to ten years since he'd sealed the envelope, but it feels wrong, disrespectful to who he'd been, to destroy the letter without rereading it first. So, after a final glance around to ensure his continued privacy, he pulls open the flap to the envelope and slides the single piece of paper out.
Alex,
You left again the other day. Headed somewhere in Texas, I think, from something you let slip. You're always so careful to avoid telling me where you're stationed. Are you afraid that if I know, I'll show up uninvited and ruin your perfect little charade of a life? That if I know how to find you, I actually will? Would that really be so bad? I know how to keep a secret. I could be your secret.
But don't worry, because I don't actually know how to find you. I have to send this letter to your squadron home base, and they'll send it on to you, wherever you actually are.
I know I just said I could be your secret, but that's a lie. And I know that’s how it has to be right now, but I'm so tired of being someone you're ashamed of. Do you know how much it fucking hurts every time you leave? I love you, and I want you to love me back. And maybe you do, and you're doing the best you can right now, but it fucking HURTS. It's not enough. I can't be the person you come to only on your terms.
I'm living this double life, this semi-charmed life. You come around for a few hours or a few days, and the rest of the world fades away. And it's so good! While we're together, I can almost believe that you love me too, that this will be the time that you don't put up your walls and leave. That you don't remind me that I can't talk to anybody about you, about us, as you're heading out the door. As if I could ever forget. That's Rule #1. Keep this a secret.
And then you always leave, and it doesn't matter how good things were while you were here, because when you leave, it destroys me every time. It must not hurt you, the leaving, like it hurts me being left behind, because if it did, you wouldn't be able to keep doing it. There's no way you could feel like I do right now, like your heart was ripped from your chest, and walk away.
I'll get through it this time like I have all the other times, but Alex, you've gotta stop. I love you, but I can't keep letting you do this to me. If you can't stay, then next time, don't come at all.
He hadn't signed the letter, hadn't wanted to give the Air Force anything that could be used to hurt Alex.
Reading those words, scrawled in his own hand, brings back an echo of how he'd felt at the time, and he rubs at his chest, soothing the remembered ache. But that is all it is–a memory. He and Alex have talked through everything that had happened during those years and have done the work to soothe old hurts and build a solid foundation to move forward.
So Michael gives himself a minute or two more to ground himself in the here-and-now before he pushes up from the couch to rejoin Alex and his family outside. He crumples the letter in its envelope and tosses it into the fire as he steps into Alex's space. He leans against the solid weight of his husband and watches the letter burn to ashes.
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dairy-farmer · 2 years
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Your tweets got me thinking of an au where Tim is Dick's bio brother but everything still happens the same way except slightly twisted.
What if on the day the Graysons fell the Drakes still went to the circus. Maybe they can't have children, don't want to try or Janet simply doesn't want to give birth, but they see this little orphan boy all by himself with no one paying attention to him and are like yes, he'll do. So they grab him while everyone is looking elsewhere.
Dick was a bit too busy with his parents dying in front of him to notice that his baby brother wiggled away from his minder to watch his family's act and is now gone. He's devastated when he can't find him. Of course, Dick blames his parents murderer for snatching his baby brother and is ready to do whatever it takes to get him back, but even after searching high and low as Robin, he can't find him. Bruce convinces him that Tim has most likely been trafficked and is already out of the country by now, so they put the case on the back burner instead of actively pursuing it.
The irony being if he had only looked next door as Dick Grayson, he'd find Tim locked up while being "trained" to be a Drake.
Que not as stable Dick who imagines only the worst has happened to his brother. Tim becomes this open wound for him because at least he has his parents bodies to bring him closure.
When Dick finally finds out Tim Drake is the baby brother he thought gone forever, he becomes insanely possessive and refuses to let Bruce or anyone have him ever again. Tim is his, and if the Drakes aren't dead by the time Dick finds out, well...
Bonus if one of the last things Baby Tim said before their family fell apart was that he wanted to marry his big brother!! And Dick takes that As A Promise. XD
😭😭😭😭😭😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢BABY TIMMY BEING KIDNAPPED!!!!!!! no because i can't even count the amount of times i read and reread this!!! just the angst!! the turmoil!!! the gut clenching fear!!! dick really does get the short end of this stick in this AU. as a character that values emotional connections, bonds, and family, this hits HARD.
like dick is just getting kicked while he's down. finding out his parents died, blaming himself for it, and losing his brother as well as being taken away from the circus that he considers an extended family.
it really does turn out to be the worst day of dick's life! he loses his, parents, his brother goes missing, and only he's left. he has nightmares, horrible visions of the terrible things that could've happened to tim and they only become worse when he becomes robin and sees the reality that some kids live through. and some that don't.
tim is soft. sweet. gentle. he has the kindest hands in the world that dick loves to kiss as he carries the toddler around on his back. timmy's giggles bring smiles and butterflies to dick's gut.
tim's far too young to begin training with the rest of the graysons. an exception had been made for dick because by the time he'd been 3, he'd been climbing up on dressers and trailers and leaping off to imitate his parents. teaching him how to safely tuck and roll was just a measure to make sure he didn't accidentally break his neck when no one was looking.
but timmy was a rule follower. he was the troupe's littlest helper. always eager to follow directions and be rewarded with soft caramels or little chocolates. so he listened to their mother when she stressed that he had to wait before they could teach him to fly.
during their shows, timmy would be in the stands seated by one of the stagehands and cheering louder than the next 10 people around him. dick would always dedicate a flip for him during every show, a quadruple somersault. it was tim's favorite move and dick happily indulged his little baby brother.
that night...on that night.
dick made a lot of mistakes.
he and his parents usually did photo ops a half hour before curtain call. greeting and posing for families and their children. tim would be beside them, munching on the bit of cotton candy he managed to beg out of meghan, haly's circus' confectioner.
she had a sweet spot for tim's bright red, chubby little cheeks. most people did.
dick would proudly puff up his chest when other parents with their kids would coo over tim standing with their family and waiting for the stagehand to come get him to take him to the stands.
one of the familes, a couple, smiled at tim and softly asked him his name. when they posed for their picture they asked to include tim in it. dick didn't mind but he did notice how his parent's expressions shifted slightly when the man knelt down and picked tim up without them saying it was okay.
dick had been confused at how his mom had quickly taken tim into her arms after the photographer snapped their shot. the phot op had ended after that couple and despite the smiles on their faces dick could tell his mom was upset.
he didn't get a chance to ask why because tim was quickly handed to him and he was instructed to take tim to dan, who would still be helping set up the control board for the lights.
but dick listened. he walked through the backstages, bouncing a giggling tim in his arms as he passed through several people warming up or putting finishing touches on their costumes.
"who dat?" tim asked him, sweet voice thick with the smell of sugar. dick could see where a bit of the blue dye from the cotton candy stained tim's lips. tim was looking over their shoulder and staring back at their parents.
"'who was that?' you mean, baby?" dick asked, smile tugging at his lips as tim furiously nodded. honestly, dick was pretty sure that his timmy was the smartest baby to ever live. he already spoke so clearly and pointedly even though his mouth was uncoordinated in the way all babies were.
"they're here to see your big brother, timmy!" dick exclaimed. "they're here to see me do flips!"
tim perked up at the word and immediatly clashed his little baby fists to dick's cheeks to he could stare at his face.
"qwadouple sowmersault?" he asked intently before breaking into a brilliant smile at dick's nod. tim's clapping attracted some attention, a few of the performers looking over with small smiles and grins.
tim is dropped off quickly beside dan who is scratching his head over why the opening lights are red instead of yellow.
"if the wrong color lenses were put on we'll just have to do the show like this- it's too late to change them."
dick hears them mutter as he walks away. it's 10 till curtain call and dick is speedwalking to get into position. the backstage is near vacant and he passes someone he knows shouldn't be there.
a lost guest perhaps. normally dick would stop. normally he'd tell them they weren't allowed this far back into the tent.
but it was 7 to curtain call and dick hurried away before he could be late.
someone else would spot him and lead him away.
dick had so many chances. so many opportunities to tell a stage hand, an equipment handler, anyone. all he had to do was say a guest was backstage and might be lost.
then maybe they would've seen the bulge in his pocket. they would've noticed that it was part of the safety gear from the trapeze rig.
obviously, one piece wouldn't lead to the equipment breaking down immediately. it took time for the strain and pressure to be too much and for the swings to snap.
it was just bad luck that it happened when they took down the safety nets.
red was all dick could see. red that seeped into the knees of his suit as he knelt beside his parent's bodies. red from the lights above him casting a crimson glow.
there was screaming. the crowd was stampeding to vacate the stands and leave the tent.
the big top of haly's circus could seat 1,900 people. rarely did they have a full house. but that night they did.
haly didn't have an electronic set up, they were still saving up for one and when dick was a kid most people paid with cash rather than card. they had a booth, a cashier, and a big roll of pre-printed tickets.
haly's circus didn't ask for ID only that anyone under the age of 13 be accompanied by a parent, guardian, or someone over the age of 18.
there was no record of who bought a ticket that night.
dick would live with the shame for the rest of his life but he wasn't the one who noticed tim missing.
"the crowd was like a wave!" dan was frenzied. he was explaining to the GCPD officers that showed up. "they just swept him up! carried him away! please! he's just a baby!"
but the GCPD had a more important matter to deal with. two dead people took precedence over one missing child who was probably just wandering around lost and confused after being separated from his guardians.
half an hour. that's how long it took for them to start looking.
forty five minutes. that's how long it took for them to call for backup in the search.
an hour and thirty minutes. that's how long it took for them to start casing the neighborhood, handing out descriptions of what tim was wearing.
dick had already been crying but his sobbing got worse when he heard they still hand't found tim.
tim was so small, he had these little baby legs that desperatly tried to keep up but he was just TOO small. dick carried him everywhere otherwise tim would be ten paces behind and bobbing after him.
'like a baby duckling' his mom would coo. she had her little robin and her duckie.
dick felt like the air had been ripped out of his lungs. he was bent over, fingers digging into his stained knees. veins were visible in his throat as he tried to hold back the vomit with wanted to rip a burning trail out of his throat. his abdomen was cramping from the force of his sobs. dick was crying so hard he could barely get a breath in.
the paramedics that arrived from some hopeless idealism that his parents could be saved had to put an oxygen mask over his face.
bruce explained to him that paramedics are only supposed to use sedatives to calm violent patients but that night they decided to inject a hysterical dick with something to make him 'easier' to deal with.
bruce said it with clear displeasure on his face.
the decision of those paramedics was why dick hadn't been able to get up and go looking for timmy himself.
he could've still been close by. he could've been hiding. maybe he would've come out if he'd heard his big brother dickie calling out for him.
dick would never know. it was just another horrible 'what if' from the worst night of his life.
dick hunts down zucco with a fury.
it's not a logical conclusion that he was the one that took tim. bruce pointed that out to him afterward. zucco had been heading away from the tent when dick spotted him.
by the time the rig gear failed he'd probably been long gone. witnesses could account for tim being present up to about 2 minutes before dick's parents fell.
dick, deep in his heart, knew zucco didn't have tim. but zucco had already taken so much from him he didn't know what else to do but blame him for that as well.
haly's circus can't get custody of dick and even if they could dick would refuse to leave gotham. not when it was the last place timmy had been seen.
"gotham's a hub for traffickers" bruce explained to him. they had airports, train stations, bus stops, and ship ports that were all used to move product into gotham and to the rest of the country. but sometimes...they were also used to move things out. but that was rare. gotham underground wasn't a big 'producer' they were more like a market to buy, sell, and trade whatever.
meaning tim could either still be in the city or he could've been sold to someone else.
it's rare for children to be snatched up and trafficked. more often it's family members. neighbors, and friends that sell a person out to be used. it's always the person you know. the person you've met. the person who's face you trust.
for them to snatch tim up?
they had no way of knowing that tim's parents had just died. that meant they'd taken advantage of the chaos and singled tim out. that was a BIG risk for someone to take.
"someone you know or met might've taken him. that might be why he didn't scream or fight back."
haly's had only been in gotham for 2 days before that horrible night. he and tim were forbidden from wandering away from the circus grounds without an adult.
gotham was a city they didn't know. they couldn't just go off to explore.
dick was friendly but even he didn't strike up conversations with strangers in a strange city he'd never been to.
bruce tries. he pulls on every lead, follows every string. nothing.
it's like tim just vanished into thin air. bruce puts as much time as he can into tim's case, every spare moment he has he tries to help dick look for his lost family member.
but crime in gotham never stops and with no new leads...
dick never stops looking for tim. every toddler with dark hair and a wonderful giggle is his timmy. every unaccompanied child is tim.
dick sees tim in his dreams, in his nightmares. he sees his timmy crying out for him and begging for his big brother to save him.
dick wakes up covered in sweat and shaking from images of big hands grabbing his sweet baby timmy.
gotham is not a nice place.
every case that involves children has dick returning to the cave and throwing up.
his face goes white and he can't stop shaking for the rest of the night because he keeps imagining tim in their place.
dick cries himself to sleep sometimes, terrified and afraid for his timmy. he's seen the things that sick and depraved people do to children. bruce starts keeping the cases away from dick once he sees what they do to him but dick still seeks them out.
every pedophile, molester, pervert, murderer, or kidnapper could be a lead to tim.
years pass.
the hole in dick's chest never stitches closed. it always feels as fresh as the day he realized no one knew where timmy was. sometimes dick has good days. days where he's so happy he almost forgets. but then other days he can't even get out bed, the pain is just too much to bear.
dick becomes a hero. he meets magic users, heroes with abilties, a man who can identify anyone in the world by just their heartbeat.
dick has the resources to find tim now. he tries.
more dead ends.
dick's not in a good place when jason comes into the picture. he's just off another failed attempt to use his blood to find and locate any close relatives with zatanna.
robin. his colors. dedicated to his family. colors that tim would know to trust if he ever saw them. even if he was just a baby when it happened dick was absolutely certain tim would recognize the colors from the suits his parents and brother wore when they performed.
dick's not proud of how he reacts. there was no way jason knew the meaning or significance behind that suit.
he yells at him regardless. he screams at bruce as well. because he knew. he fucking knew what that suit meant to him.
dick throws himself into looking for tim with a new fervor because fuck bruce fuck bruce fuck bruce. dick will find his real family.
jason dies. in his colors.
dick has lost yet another brother. the pain brings him to his knees when he hears.
dick is distant from bruce afterward. he stays in san francisco with the titans.
until a little thing squirms in close.
dick doesn't hear his soft voice and gentle pleading at first. he just stares at his face. those long lashes, dark hair, and blue eyes. sweet button nose and perfect peachy lips.
his name is tim. dick tries his best not to let the pain of that name show on his face.
dick's had years of practice.
tim talks about...that night. how his parents took to the circus, how he saw dick's flip, how he recognized it on the news years later.
tim becomes the new robin. dick tries to do for tim what he didn't do for jason but it's..hard.
a boy with dark hair whose name is 'tim' wearing that suit and those colors.
dick catches himself falling into a fantasy. a fake reality where tim was never taken and bruce took them both in. a reality where dick was teaching his baby timmy all the acrobatic moves that fascinated him so much.
tim is a good kid. sweet and shy. his parents are world travelers and he talks about them with so much brightness and affection even though they're gone most of the year.
"they send me presents in the mail!" tim brightly tells him when dick asks about Christmas and his birthday. he gets a saddened look for a brief moment before shaking it away. "i wish they'd stay home sometimes though, they used to do that a lot when i was smaller."
dick likes tim. after a while he barely even feels that empty twinge in his chest when he catches sight of him or hears his name.
tim is smart and clever, quick on his feet which more than makes up for his small size.
tim's also a good partner to bruce, the two of them work in tandem and develop a better dynamic than the one dick had with bruce.
tim takes good care of bruce and it lifts a weight that dick hadn't noticed he'd been carrying. dick can't be the one to lift bruce. not anymore.
dick always searches for his timmy, but just like in the beginning- there's always something that needs to be dealt with.
tim experiences problems with robin. at one point he needs to quit at his father's insistence. jack drake is a protective man.
he becomes hostile, not worried when he discovers that tim is robin. he threatens bruce, and dick, and alfred to not come near their family again.
that doesn't seem to matter because he dies soon after and leaves tim heart broken, confused, and wrangling with unsure feelings about their relationship.
so much spirals and dick cannot dedicate the time he usually does to searching for his timmy. he has a consultation with constantine that keeps getting put off when red hood and then damian enter their lives.
dick's grief is amplified by the loss of bruce and he makes mistakes.
he and tim have an odd tension between them when he returns from europe with the proof of bruce being alive.
things never quite settle to how they were before. tim doesn't trust him as much, he's wary about dick just as he is with damian and jason.
but the four of them get through it. it's slow going, they hit rough patches, they fight, they forgive.
but they're brothers.
dick doesn't talk about his timmy often. the pain of that night is unlike anything he's ever felt. dick's parents are dead and he will always carry the weight of that. but it's a different pain from what he feels for his timmy. because at least dick knows what happened to his parents.
only bruce and the people dick has reached out to in his search know about timmy.
he's not sure how they get onto the topic but jason mentions how much of a...dick dick had been when he found jason wearing his suit.
but dick apologizes.
"it's not so much that you were wearing it that made me angry but the fact that bruce handed it to you when he knew what it meant to me."
jason nodded.
"yeah he told me about your parents and the suit."
dick shook his head.
"no, it was more than that... it-"
dick takes a steadying breath before he tells them about the third victim of that night. his timmy. sweet baby timmy and how he'd been swept away just a foot away from the sound booth where someone had been minding him. how neither he nor bruce nor anyone knew what happened to him after that night.
his brother's faces go from confused to shocked.
"i...i didn't know that." jason shifted uncomfortably, looking down with furrowed brows.
haly's circus grounds had pitched a tent right outside crime alley.
as good of a job as jason had done cleaning things up, things had been horrendous back then and dick knows that the most likely theory he's developed so far is that timmy, when he was swept away with the crowd, stumbled in and was swallowed by gotham.
bodies are dragged out of the gutter every few months, fished from the harbor, or reported from homeless camps. hundreds of people die unindentified in gotham every year and as much as dick wanted to believe that tim was alive...chances are he was one of them.
the thought never fails to bring tears to dick's eyes. he wipes them away discretely and clears his throat while his brothers avert their eyes.
"you've never found evidence of what happened to him?" damian asked, eyes oddly intense. dick knew damian had a fondeness for him and appreciated the concern and likely determination his younger brother had at helping dick with this.
dick shook his head.
"me and bruce reviewed the files so many times i have it memorized. no security camera, no witnesses, nobody ever came forward."
flyers and missing person's posters had covered gotham for four months. before they'd been replaced by another person. dick was lucky that bruce had kept paying for people to keep printing and putting up flyers.
tim's brows were furrowed.
"what was his name?" he asked, voice soft and comforting. two other sets of eyes flickered to dick with thinly veiled interest and dick bit back the startled choked sob that almost left his mouth.
"his uh.." dick sniffled, "his name was timmy." dick's voice cracked and he couldn't hold back the fresh wave of tears that burned like they were made of vodka.
tim's forehead creased in guilt.
"n-no tim, it's okay!" dick insisted knowing his younger brother's tendency for guilt.
"i've uh...i've had years to get used to it. when i was a kid-" dick let out a strained clucky laugh, "- i used to chase after every toddler with dark hair and i'd uhm hyperventilate if i heard the name 'tim'."
dick had been a wreck those first years. he didn't even remember his first few months at the manor and both bruce and alfred got a distant, haunted look in their eyes when dick asked about it.
dick bit his lip, and roughly wiped away another flow of tears. he hadn't wanted to ruin the mood.
jason's brows were furrowed, displeasure on his face as he probably worked through the likelihood of what had happened to dick's little brother.
"how old was he?" jason's question was thick with tension and dick felt another pulse of pain throb in his throat.
"three. he was just three."
jason cursed viciosuly.
"that's a fucking baby." he spit out. "swear if it ever find out that somebody laid their hands on the kid-"
dick swallowed back a whimper and tried to ignore the slideshow of horror that started playing behind his eyelids. damian was hesitantly patting dick's knee in comfort when-
"wait. i was three."
eyes flickered to tim whose brow was furrowed in thought.
"that day in haly's circus, it was my 3rd birthday and we got a picture with your family as a treat."
tim straightened up while damian turned to him.
"are you saying you were there that day?" damian asked, brows furrowed. jason was similarly frowning. tim turned to them both with a surprised expression.
"uh yeah? i mean i told dick and bruce about it, it was how i found out they were batman and robin, the day at haly's cicus was like my earliest memory."
tim shook his head for a moment before turning back to dick, an analytical look in his eye. it was the same look he got when he found a break in a case.
"i have a picture." tim's lips spread into an eager smile. "it caught a good amount of the crowd because the line was right behind us! if we can track down even a few of them we've got a good pool to start with!"
tim was up and pushing to his feet, darting out and likely racing to his room where he kept a bunch of his his from his old house.
dick felt a ball form in his throat.
"bruce and i were never able to track down anyone who'd been there that night."
a few dozen people had tried filing lawsuits against haly's circus for emotional damages for what they witnessed but it was gotham and unless you were willing to pay for your case to be seen by a judge it was all thrown out.
both jason and damian straightened up at dick's words and all three of them turned when a widely grinning tim carried in a blue photo album. he opened to the first page.
"right here!"
dick barely covered his mouth to muffle the sob that burst out.
timmy. it was his timmy.
held in the arms of a broad-shouldered man that dick instantly realized was jack drake.
but that wasn't what mattered. what mattered was the toddler in his arms whose mouth was stained blue from cotton candy.
"oh timmy, there you are-" dick felt his tears blur his vision as he shakily stroked a finger against the soft curve of that chubby cheek he'd kissed so much.
dick sniffled and let out a shaky cry as he stared at that picture. the last picture of his sweet baby timmy alive.
tim was right about the line of people in the background but dick was only focused on one thing.
"there's my dad," tim pointed, showing jason and damian who were also crowded around the album, "there's my mom, and there's me."
tim pressed a finger to dick's timmy.
dick frowned.
"no."
three pairs of eyes turned to a frowning dick.
"no, that's not you."
tim frowned.
"uh..yeah it is dick? see, that's my dad, that's my mom and there I-"
"no." dick stressed the word. "that's timmy, that's my timmy. i remember that night! this couple took a picture with us and wanted timmy in the photo, mom was upset that they picked him up without permission, she told me drop him off with dan right after."
dick pointed to how upset his mom was, a small bit of tension in her brow. dick's dad's eyes were pointed away from the camera but still smiling, although tightly. and timmy, who was confusedly looking at the stranger holding him.
when dick looked back up all three of his brothers were staring at him, thin veils of concern in their eyes.
"uh...dick," jason began slowly, "that's pretty clearly tim."
tim shifted. his face flashed with discomfort as dick flickered over to him.
"i mean...it was a pretty bad night for you." tim began "it's understandable if you...don't remember things perfectly-"
no. no. dick knew exactly what happened that night. he remembered every detail. some people's memories faded by not dick's.
he remembered timmy's candy sweet breath, remembered dropping him off with dan, kissing his nose, and promising him another-
"you promised me a quadruple somersault, remember?"
dick froze. his guts suddenly clenched oddly as tim's big blue eyes stared at him with some sympathy as he tried to 'jog' dick's memory.
dick stared at tim.
really stared at him.
he took in his eyes, his lips, nose, his eyelashes. looking at tim had hurt in the beginning, he was so soft and young. he looked like-
"timmy." dick breathed. "timmy"
dick didn't notice he crawled over the photo album between them until tim let out a startled noise as dick wrapped both arms around his shoulder.
"timmy, i-it is you o-oh shut, holy fuck, oh my god- here, let me look at you-"
tim's eyes were wide staring up at dick.
"timmy." dick breathed breathlessly. "i found you."
---
they freak out. dick's brothers are sure that he's lost it and they keep glancing over at dick as he's strapped down in the medbay.
bruce is frowning down at the photo album in his hands.
"-might have gotten dosed? or hit his head? or maybe just talking about it made him...uhm-"
"tim's trying to say he thinks dick snapped."
jason is tense standing beside tim and dick who's tied down to a gurney. he'd been the one to pry dick off of tim even though dick clearly hadn't wanted to.
jason had scratches on his arm, some of which were sluggishly bleeding.
"this is jack and janet." bruce said. "and you're say that dick thinks this-" he points at the cotton candy-stained baby. "-is his brother."
tim nods uneasily before listing more suggestions, that perhaps because tim is in the appropriate age range that dick is just projecting memories, maybe the pain of remembering has forced him to cope by seeing his brother where he isn't.
damian remains silent, staring down at the photo album. he hasn't said a word so far until-
"why are there only two tickets?"
a pair of tickets printed with 'admit one' are pressed into the protective sleeve beside the picture.
"a family of three attended the circus that day so why are there only two tickets?"
tim stared at damian blankly.
"i was a kid damian, some places admit people under a certain age range for free."
"not haly's circus." bruce interjected. "it's a production geared towards children, they'd lose a lot of profit if they didn't charge the kids."
tim turned his eyes to bruce, expression blank.
"are there no other baby pictures of you drake?" damian asked, ripping the book from bruce's hands. no one said anything. "the cover says 'my first memory book' and yet the first page starts with a picture of you at the circus of all places."
tim's jaw tightened.
"i don't like what you're implying." tim's words were tense.
damian's eyes flickered up to him.
"and what am i implying, drake?"
tim's teeth clenched, and he breathed harshly through his nose.
"if you must know, i wasn't, stictly speaking, born in the U.S"
bruce turned to look at him, eyes narrowed on him even from behind the cowl.
"you have a U.S birth certificate, a social security, i saw nothing in your documents that-"
"my parents paid for some...expedited paperwork. i'm not sure it was fully legal but customs wouldn't let them back into the country with me unless i had a U.S passport so..."
tim shrugged.
"i was already a year or something old by that point and digital cameras didn't exactly exist yet so no baby pictures."
tim shot damian a narrow eyed look.
"is that a good enough explanation for you?"
damian glared at him.
"your birthday is coincidentally the day that grayson's sibling disappeared, that's not odd to you detective?" the way damian said detective edged a little too close to mocking.
bruce frowned at him.
"dami-"
damian cut his father off.
"by your own mouth you admit that your earliest memory is seeing the flying grayson's perish, that's not odd to you?"
"hey demon-"
jason was similarly ignored as damian flipped the album around and lifted it close enough to tim's face that he couldn't look away.
"and it's not odd to you that your parents were seated at R-34 and R-35, four feet away from the sound booth that timothy grayson disappeared from?"
damian went down like a sack of rocks from the force of tim's sudden punch.
both bruce and jason let out similar shouts.
scoldings were on the edge of bruce's tongue, his hand reaching out to grab tim and ask what he thought he was doing when tim was suddenly yanked back with a startled yelp into dick's arms.
"don't even think about it!" dick half turned away from the three of them, body covering tim's as a snarl creeped on his face. "don't you dare lay a hand on timmy! he's a good boy!"
dick's eyes were dark as they glared at bruce. glared at him like he was...a threat.
---
a dna test confirms it all quickly.
tim is devastated. inconsolable. he locks himself in his room and dick stands outside of it, begging for timmy to let him in.
bruce can't get an inch close without dick's head whipping around to face him and barking at him to back off.
both jason and damian were similarly treated and bruce laid a comforting hand on damian's shoulder when he saw his expression crease in hurt at the rejection.
not even alfred could get more a few feet away before dick eyed him with suspicion.
the only reason that dick hasn't barged into the room is because he can hear that tim is on the other side crying. that's the only thing stopping him because bruce is certain that he'd be inside with him otherwise.
bruce understands the behavior. he knows it's rooted in over a decade worth of nightmares, fears, and imagining the worst-case scenario for that little baby dick lost.
still. it hurts to be treated with such blatent suspicion and distrust.
"sickos." jason shakes his head beside bruce, scowling down at tim's birth certificate with the day he was taken as his date of birth. "what kind of pieces of shit do this?"
bruce asks himself that question every night. he and jason are doing a bit of a dive into jack and janet. they're both long dead so there's no chance of ever bringing them to justice but...it's good to get perspective on their son and brother's kidnappers.
the more bruce looks the worse it looks.
"look at this shit," jason hands him a print out of jack and janet's financials from one of the many boxes that tim had pulled out into the hall when he though he was going to help break the case of dick grayson's missing baby brother.
hypnotherapists, electroconvulsive therapy, and child psychologists. office visits and billings for sessions that were paid in cash and off the record.
"they put a toddler through ECT." jason's grip on the paper tightened and bruce's chest felt much the same.
he knew there was a gap in tim's memory. he'd learned about it the first day he'd met him. he'd thought it a bit strange but never lent much thought to it.
tim's first memory had been when he was 3. it'd been the night at haly's circus. his next memory had been when he was 9, the night that he saw dick perform the quadruple somersault on the news and discovered his identity as robin and bruce's as batman.
6 years in a dissociative state was sign of massive mental trauma.
tim had no memory of life before batman. he had no memory of life beyond robin.
---
dick holds his timmy tenderly, as soft as he used to. his timmy has grown bigger, so much bigger.
he's shaking like a leaf in the wind as dick holds him.
he whimpers like a hurt dog at every stroke dick passes through his hair. he's buried under his blankets while dick lays on top of his bed and tries to soothe hust like he used to on the night there were thunderstorms and timmy would run to dick instead of their mom and dad.
"i'm here now timmy, it's okay, it's okay now i promise nothing bad will ever happen you you again-"
timmy sobbed.
the sound stuck a dagger through dick's heart and he crawled closer, hugging the lump that was his baby brother.
"i'm sorry, timmy-" dick rubbed his forehead against where the crying was coming from. "i looked for you, i looked for you everyday i'm so sorry that i let those horrible people take you."
there was a lump in dick's throat that burned like he'd swallowed vinegar. rage unlike anything he'd ever felt before pulsed through him when he realized that jack and janet were the couple that had creeped out his parents. they were the ones who had taken his timmy.
what had they done to him in that time? dick can't even imagine the horrible things that'd been done tim, things he'd kept silent about because he'd spent the last few years in bruce's care and he hadn't felt anything off.
not one thing.
dick could've had timmy back years ago. he could've been helping his sweet baby learn to be soft again, to open up just like the darling little flower he'd been when he chased after dick like a little duckling.
tim was secretive. tim kept a lot to himself and pulled away from people. he was nervous about attention and didn't like to be put into situations he couldn't control.
dick's timmy hadn't been like that. dick's timmy had been tender. he'd laughed out loud and pressed kisses to dick's cheeks while asking him to play with him and begging him to teach him how to fly.
but bruce had dropped the ball. 'world's greatest detective' dick's ass.
bruce had hurt tim as well. as robin. jason too, he'd slit his throat, he'd nearly killed him and damian...if help had gotten to tim to late he could've bled out.
timmy wasn't safe here. not with these people.
dick had lost part of himself that day. that horrible day.
and now timmy was here, in his arms again.
and he'd grown up so beautifully. his features are soft and dick can see the hint of their mom in timmy's lips and eyelashes.
they both share the same coloring as their dad.
staring down at teary eyes and dick can even scout out a few features he shares with dick. they have the same small ears and high cheekbones. tim's much smaller. not as muscular or tall as dick. he got mom's height it looks like.
dick tightened his grip on tim's hips, squeezing them in comfort as tim sniffled while staring up at him with tearful eyes.
"oh timmy." dick nuzzled their foreheads together, just like he did when they were young. when they were both innocent and unscarred.
tim whimpered and dick pressed gentle kisses to tim's soft cheeks and brows.
one on his left cheek, one on his forehead, one on his right cheek, one on his nose, and one on his lips.
just like when they were kids.
timmy would always giggle when dick did that and press his face up to kiss him back. as the youngest members of the troupe and the only children, the two of them had really only had each other for company.
when timmy had disappeared he'd taken half of dick's heart. half of his soul.
now they were together again and dick could start rebuilding.
"it's you and me timmy," dick whispered against his lips. "just you and me."
dick would never let anything happen to timmy ever again.
a knock echoed from the door that dick had locked behind him when he slipped in.
dick turned his head and stared as the brass doorknob tried to turn with a chair propped under it.
dick was going to look out for timmy from now on.
nothing and no one would ever touch him again.
"dick?"
another knock followed the call of his name.
dick stayed quiet. answering didn't matter. the people on the other side of the door didn't matter.
all that mattered was timmy.
'dickie?'
dick could hear his baby timmy's sweet voice in his head again. usually, that only happened when he was alone.
"yes? timmy"
'we stayin towgehder?'
dick nodded.
"yes baby, we are."
timmy shifted under him, making a soft noise.
'like-like mommy an daddy, dickie?'
"yes timmy, just like mommy and daddy."
an angel's giggle rang in dick's ear as he pressed a kiss to timmy's soft forehead. timmy used to love their pretend weddings, draping a sheet over his face like a veil and waiting for dick to lift it up and kiss the bride.
timmy used to cheerfully tell their parents and the other performers that he and dickie were going to get married when he grew up.
they'd all coo and pinch his cheeks because tim was every inch adorable as a baby could be.
dick could still see the image in his head. little chubby hands holding a bundle of fake flowers usually kept in a vase as a bedsheet covered tim's head like he was a ghost.
'you gon kiss me, dickie?'
dick carefully peeled back the sheets covering tim's face, exposing his red face and tear-streaked cheeks. his puffy stared back at dick with misery thick in his expression.
dick leaned down.
'noooo! you gotta say 'i do'! dickie you gotta!'
"i do." dick pressed his mouth to tim's, humming in contentment as some ripped, raw edge of himself began to stitch itself back together. tim's lips tasted salty from his tears. he made a muffled 'mph' sound as dick pressed closer, letting his vody cover tim's.
'i do' dick thought. 'i do i do i do'.
he pulled away with a quiet 'smeck', staring down at tim's hazy expression and starlight eyes. tim's mouth was slightly open, exposing the pink waterline of his little mouth.
"till death do us part baby brother."
and dick leaned down again.
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