#or get drunk and dissociate and let my body decide?

[brokenmindandsoul]

get drunk and k*II myself or get drunk and re-lapse?

[artisiumstudios]

Stanley goes through extreme head trauma that causes him to either suffer extreme mental trauma and/or even cause him physical trauma. For example age regression or now being unable to speak properly (maybe unable to read) has to relearn how to do that, basically he has brain damage. Now this could go both ways.

(also TW for suicidal thoughts)

Either ford is called in and is told that his brother has been in an accident and when he gets there to the hospital he is told that Stan now requires full time supervision and needs to relearn how to talk, walk, basically everything, ford still wants to hold onto the grudges and be mad for the past. He tries to reinforce this by thinking "oh yeah of course now that im getting settled in now of all times he decides to be hurt. Now that im finally succeeding he has to barge into my life and make ME have to deal with the consequences of his actions." (he thinks while anxiety bubbles up in the pit of his stomach a voice in the back of his head praying that his brother is okay."

But the moment he sees Stan bandaged up, with tubes and wires wrapping around and inside him, keeping alive, all he feels is guilt, he’s scared. Stanley once so strong and lively now silently laying on a cold hard hospital as machines keep his body alive. Its a slow grueling process, first off having to relocate Stanley to Gravity Falls and then having to reteach him how to speak, motor skills, how to read, how to walk, how to live. Not to mention the mental trauma. The exhaustion for both twins, ford having to make time to go with stan to his physical and mental therapy appointments, and Stan having to actually go through with both of those. It only gets worse as Stan regains some of his memories both from his time from the street and the the worse one, the night at the gym leading to him getting kicked out.

he already felt like dead weight for having to rely on Ford all the time, but now with those memories his self hatred and guilt comes back to him full force and all he wishes is that he would've died upon impact. Maybe that way he'd finally stop being a burden.

Alternatively, ford doesn’t find out and Stan is left to relearn everything on his own (when his memory gets better he has some “sense” to ditch the hospital since he won’t be able to pay.) Unfortunately that means he now walks funny and is practically unable to run, his eyes become far too sensitive to light, he’s can't properly talk (he decides to just not say anything at all, after all what’s talking ever done to him but get him in more trouble) and mentally speaking he’s just worse off then before (mood swings, extreme anxiety, and paranoia).

When Ford calls for him it takes a bit longer for him to get there, and when he finally arrives, Ford is worse than in canon, much more irritable, tired, swaying on his feet. Not to mention he has foggy brain which makes it harder to pay attention to anything, to his brother.

Ford gets pissed thinking Stanley is drunk or high, the few words he has spoken are slurred, he’s wearing sunglasses inside the house for Moses sake! Not to mention that he’s literally tripping over himself and that he went from crying because of the crossbow (although Ford is a bit more sympathetic on that one, it would be weird not to panic at a weapon being pointed at you. But even then, t's odd his brother is crying-) to huffing and puffing like a child, to looking extremely fidgety and anxious in the last 40 minutes. Ford gets even more pissed when he tries to tell him about the portal only to find Stanley messing with something else.

He yells at him that he’s irresponsible to show up drunk and continue wasting his time, that he has shown to be untrustworthy once again. Stanley stays silent and unfortunately Ford can’t see the way tears swell in Stan’s eyes once more, he can’t say the way the glaze over as Stanley begins to dissociate. Ford lets Stanley stay the night, saying tomorrow he must leave. In the morning Ford finds Stanley whimpering in pain, his sunglasses are thrown across the room as his brother hit his palms over his head over and over again. Ford panics trying to understand what’s going on, he tries to pry Stan’s hands but he can’t seem to, his eyes are squeezed shut tears flowing down his cheeks.

Before he knows it Stan is dry heaving, Ford quickly finds a bucket and hands it over. When he asks Stan if he’s hungover Stan just stares at him weakly, his speech slurred he mutters the words bright and hurts. Ford catches on bring Stan’s sunglasses over. It takes moment, Stanley's shaky uncoordinated hands place the glasses over his eyes. He finally sighing in relief, his breathing more calm. Ford looks around the room spotting where sunlight creeps through the wood he hand hung earlier that week, the sun shines bright, the snow probably not helping. Ford looks at Stanley close noticing a jagged line that reaches from the bottom of his neck up to the back of his head, guilt creeps into his bones.

Without thinking he reaches out, brushing his hair tracing the line up til he reaches the lower part of his partial bone. Looking at Stanley once more, he notes the small scars that litter his face and hands, the way he seems uncoordinated, confused, unable to speak. Like he's-

Oh no.

[terrahlee-cup]

The finale of the ‘holy shit she has a lot to say about this one fic’ series before I return to my regularly scheduled random bullshit. Enjoy lol @raphaelesbian

Chapter 11

*sees author’s note, immediate fear*

Him thinking they look like they should be scared of him hurts me. The baby is not doing too hot tonight huh? Let them like youuuu 🥹

OUTFIT TIME YES! “We need to match if we’re going to be a team!” I KNOW I KEEP SAYING THIS BUT THEY’RE ADORABLE. 

“He’d gone past that feeling, to the frayed mess that he was now. He… didn’t want her to feel like this.” Buddy you shouldn’t feel like that either??? This child is so sweet with other people when he needs to be but never himself ow ouch.

These two are so excited to dress him up and I am excited to read it.

“Well, I love being difficult. Ask Leo.” And the self-deprecation is back. Ohp.

Love these two being legitimately concerned for him when they find out his family doesn’t know what he’s been doing. As much as everything they’ve been up to has usually been dangerous it’s really good for Raph to have more friends outside of his family.

Also, the actual effort to make him feel like he’s part of their little group is incredible and amazing and adorable and-

Ohp they found a landmine— wonder if that’ll come up again later?

Damn Raph didn’t even hesitate with that one did he. Call him a crybaby and he will have his revenge lol.

Oh yeah they still don’t get the turtle noise thing yet do they? And now the alcohol is really hitting time for the sad.

He’s… not going to be as quiet as usual while drunk. This could go poorly. He is so getting in trouble it is so obvious he’s intoxicated. Multiple people are up he is DOOMED.

Yep. Yeah his dad figured it out immediately. Oh boy. AND CASEY’S THERE TOO THERE GOES HIS EXCUSE FOR BEING OUT. I am. Uncomfortable. Agh, lying to his family is not good but he DOES need to be able to get out of the lair. He’s in a bad spot as it is without being cooped up all the time.

Ah. There’s the blow-up. Yayyyy. Donnie… hun, why in the actual fuck would you think suggesting that would be a good idea after everything that’s happened?

“None of you get to decide what I do!” Annnnd there’s the main problem. Sure, Raph may have been the ‘rebellious one’ before the brain worm, but people trying to control him (even if trying to protect him) is probably way more uncomfortable for him now. He lost all control of his body for what, 3+ months? Yeah can’t expect him to not need some level of freedom right now. Anxiety-inducing as hell for his family (entirely fair), but trying to keep him in the lair is probably going to do more harm than good.

Chapter 12

Oh hey he’s dissociating almost immediately after waking up that’s good! Yay! :D

“Karai would hate him for it.” Hun I very much doubt that. She definitely knows your family would find out eventually.

“If I’m such a disappointment, why do you even care what I’m doing?” Agh stupid dumb child must hug him.

“No wonder Shredder favored robots and mind control.” Oh boy. This can only go well. The self-deprecation is getting worse too lovely! Bud your family’s just really fucking worried damn it. They don’t hate you 😫

Mikeyyyyyy <3 bean. Lol he snuck Raph his phone, nice.

Of course he got caught immediately trying to sneak out. “for a moment he wanted him to give in.” This kid is NOT OKAY. AT ALL. That is NOT GOOD.

“the desperation woven into a noose that tightened with each word that fought its way through his esophagus.” EYYYYY HE SAID THE THING. (Ow.)

“Y’know, he said the same thing.” OW. FUCK. THAT WAS HARSH BUDDY- LIKE WAKE-UP CALL YES BUT ALSO WAY TOO MUCH.

I think I summarized a lot of my thoughts about these two chapters very well here:

But in all seriousness this is very well written and I am very excited for whenever the next chapter is uploaded. Seemingly we’re in for some more angst based on… certain posts *squints*

Love the chaos trio that is Shinigami, Karai, and Raph. They are menaces and will probably give Splinter gray hairs in the very near future lol. I suppose Raph and Karai have probably given him quite a few already on their own, though. Whoopsie.

[yifftwiceplz]

do one every ten lines :)

🤝 for a headcanon about a connection with one of the receiver's mutual

big fan of dave (yifftwiceplz) and dave (dj-shitslot) basically looking in a mirror at each other at all times, younger self in awe of "older" self (its just that dj is a guardian / has more responsibility) and older self looking back at younger self fondly. thats the good shit. they dont make shit like that anymore but we do like you pass your 13 year old self on the street and your gut reaction is to light up and say oh my god i love you and your 13 year old self is like holy shit, the parts of myself i always wanted to shine through are right there plain as day, we made it

🌇 for a headcanon about morning- or evening rituals

dave wakes up in the afternoon and mostly just lounges around for a few hours. due to his audhd and dysfunction he cant do Anything in any day unless 1. it was preplanned a week in advance 2. he has his obligatory four hour Do Fuck All time. where mainly he smokes weed and listens to music loud enough you can hear it across the house (even though he's wearing headphones). and then once he feels like a person he'll have breakfast, shower, brush his teeth etc and focus on work

😡 for a headcanon about something that makes them angry

it's so hard to make dave angry. maybe it was easier in sburb but he's genuinely a very happy guy. i specifically decided to RP him after i saw that smile on daves face on the lilypad i thought. my guy can heal now. so mostly any time he gets mad it's probably just that he's overstimulated. which is nebulous and random and hard to predict and he tries to grit his teeth and not show it until he snaps, which isn't ideal but he hates looking sensitive or asking someone to back off him in terms of actual real true anger - i dont think he feels it. maybe for a brief moment if someones attacking his friends - only a moment because immediately following that he's got his body and sword between them

🚗 for a transportation-themed headcanon

this bitch cant drive. bro never drove; they lived at the top floor apartment in a walkable neighbourhood what good would a car do yknow? bro had the hoverboard for any long distance trips actually it would be so moe of him to start skating again maybe i should do that. but anyway mostly he walks everywhere he goes. he FREQUENTLY forgets he can fly because thats like... a super power to him. to be used during a fight. but a long fly doesnt work as well as a long walk to clear your head if you have attention issues and mildly dissociate. hed end up in tennessee

hc + 🚬 for a headcanon about a bad habit

oh boy definitely the drinking is his worst habit. it's well-managed but sometimes gets out of hand which is HARD to recognize because dave does not typo when he's drunk. he says roxy is either weak or faking it. striders in general are high dexterity builds so it doesn't matter if his eyes work or if he's coherent - them fingers are gonna find the keys. but he's also a fun drunk! he and roxy share that trait where you get a little booze in them and it's a little easier for them to laugh and open up and be confident in themselves so dave is really good at playing off being totally wasted with being totally charming. and it leads to people letting him drink more than he should quite frequently. luckily karkat isn't as fond of drinking as he is and has a keen eye for when dave is too far gone

hc + 🎥 for a film/tv-themed headcanon

dave is very passionate about film/tv even with his limited "real" education on it, dude just has an eye for it. good editing / camerawork tickles him to death like in a reality show where the interviewee is oblivious to something and there's a slow camera zoom in... got him seal-clapping and kicking his legs in glee part of the reason he's always so busy and tired (which is hard to see because he's always online and blogging casually - that's just part of his process and he just responds to a couple things at a time) is he's such a perfectionist with his own videos. he will not hire an editor. no one understands his vision.

[cedibe]

manic pixie me?

Each man I have dated or spent time with has made me self-aware in a different way.

After highschool, I had my heart broken by a boy I never got the chance to get bored of. I became so self aware of my own dread regarding the situation that seemed to be closing in around me. Although I was 18 and naive, my life had seemingly become uninteresting- razed by the fact that this boy, along with others in my life, had chosen to abandon me. Because that was what made my life shiny, right? Hindsight tells me that this boy was completely boring and unimportant, but it had been one of the first true breakdowns to start a cycle in which i required re-invention, or renovation of my own life- an repetitive cycle of self improvement.

I had been on birth control for about a year and a half, and in doing so, became completely emotionally numb. It began with poor libido, poor emotional response, lack of motivation. I devolved into a person who couldn't even feel the happiness of hanging out with her friends- who would go out, drink, smile, chat- all to come home and feel detached from the situation, like I was floating just outside of my body. I went off the pill.

Going off the pill felt like buying a new top, in the way that I got to go out and try all these newfound emotions for the first time.

I almost immediately got into a relationship with one of my best friends. This man has since put up with a lot.

Being in my body and brain, fresh off birth control, could have been likened to riding a bike after a long time. I obviously did not have the tools to regulate my thoughts and translate them to sensible actions.

Throughout almost all of my relationship, I struggled to decide whether I actually wanted to be in it. I had wavering moments of being horny and a week later, being repulsed at the thought of being touched. I was clingy and dependent, and upon realising so, completely withdrawn. One night during this time, I got quite drunk and had a breakdown about the fact that so much time would have to pass before my brain chemistry would settle to a point where I was bearable to be in a relationship with. I realised that until this unmarked moment, I was essentially a liability to those closest to me- that the time I needed to take to figure things out was simply unfit for the situation I had already gotten myself into.

He was going to leave the country for a couple of months to study. The whole relationship I told myself that it didn't matter if it wasn't right, or if I wasn't right, because we would be breaking up when he left regardless. In the two weeks before he left I lived at his house, where we both held each other and sobbed every night. I think that was the closest I have ever gotten to grieving.

3 months in, I called it off. It felt like I had let go of a breath, or taken my bra off after a long day. I realised how much I had to relearn to enjoy being alone. I spent my summer galavanting and understanding what I wanted and didn't want in a man.

I spent time with a boy who courted me 15m under the water. He is sweet, but simple. He lived this clean, beautiful, unrestricted lifestyle and he never worried about being cringe, or being perceived or anything other than his job, his fun and his family. He did not warn me of this, but he introduced me to his entire family on the first date we went on. He did not warn me that we were going out to a nice restaurant or that I would need a change of clothes. He explained to me that he wanted a white picket fence house on the beaches, and four children. He told me he'd be the first man in a long time to make me cum. I very quickly understood that this was a little far from my reach- maybe by chance, maybe by choice. The way I interpreted it was that I was not worthy- or did not fit in -because this man did not know the strains of waking up with a hot gripping anxiety in his chest first thing in the morning for no reason. He did not know the feeling of dissociating out of his body on a tuesday afternoon because he forgot to stay medicated. He would struggle to understand the unwillingness of a girl he liked to birth four of his little blonde offspring, because that's exactly what his mother did.

My second boy came back home. After the 'beaches' incident we quickly got back together, seemingly in a more adult, stable context. I thought I had become more solid about my intentions and the things I wanted from him. I was tired of trying to find my comfort in other people, why would I when I had my best friend right in front of me? The familiar hands that had held me all those times before this. Someone who really, truly knew me inside and out. The night we got together, we had sex and I cried. I was drunk and I cried hard and I cried into his shoulder and I told him I loved him. And it was really good for about 6 months.

He started to drag his feet on things that would be fun. He started becoming docile and comfortable in his routines, which consisted of nothing fun or exciting. When he came home, I had decided in my head that he had done all of this exciting growing while he was away. I will not deny him his growth, but I will deny that whatever growth he did had an impact on the issues that existed before he had left. Trips, festivals, concerts, date nights, became something to be convinced of. I gained weight, I became lethargic in my own habits. I needed to pull myself back into frame and it felt so hard to do it when I had him hanging onto me. It wasn't his fault. I became uninterested and I couldn't put up with the thought that if I stayed, it would just be the best that I would get, not the person I was meant to end up with.

We're done. It's been about a month and a half.

Now, I do what I do best- what I've done before. I shoot messages back and forth to underwater man. I have realised quickly, that his willingness is subject to convenience. This is not on purpose- I believe that sometimes I think more about him than he thinks about anything at all.

He offers to take me skiing. He offers to join my holidays. He says yes to just about anything. He's fun and he's simple and he doesn't require the emotional toll of considering the future.

This has made me aware of my position in his life, as well as his position in mine. Would I be willing to be with a partner who would allow me to never work, take holidays, live by the beach, be loved and cared for- all at the expense of a floppy vagina and a lack of intellectual equality? Would I be willing to bend my politics and my morals and become a skinny, vapid beaches woman who smiles and laughs and moans and births when she should? For a life of comfort?

The thought actually makes me feel quite sick and I think the awareness that I ultimately wouldn't be able to makes me so, so upset. I have been feeling unsure, unsteady and a little broken. Almost unworthy.

I still carry my weight. I am ever conscious of my form and the space I fill. I feel like I can't take the same leeway I may have one year ago. when I was 10kg lighter. I feel anxious a lot of the time and the head-noise that often consumes my subconscious makes it incredibly hard not to doubt myself. This doesn't feel as fun as it used to and this time, I have to wait and wait and wait to figure out what will ultimately be my destiny.

I am so disappointed in the fact that I can measure out shifts in my conscious thought through periods being spent with men. fucking men men men men men men men all the fucking time.

Are they manic pixie dream girls? Did I somehow grow a cock and balls and lose the ability to grow and understand myself without someone to guide me through this?

or did the enlightenment from these situations shine through because of my own growth and actions. Did I manic pixie dream girl myself?

My chest feels heavy. I hope this passes quickly.

[yourflowersfirst]

day 1,415

pages 41-43

"i'm drunk, i'm drunk, i'm drunk!"

"shh, shhhh, take it easy," i tried to soothe him. to no avail.

"any man who looks at you, i'll fight him, i'll fucking kill him," he stumbled over uneven sidewalk. "oops. spend the night with me. wanna wake up next to you tomorrow."

"we'll see," i sighed. he stopped abruptly. i tugged at his hoodie sleeve. "let's keep going, dude, i'm freezing my ass off."

"kiss me," he demanded, and invaded my space so quick i couldn't react. if he were sober, i might have found his insistence somewhat endearing. my body went on autopilot dissociation mode and i tried to kiss him back, but it proved useless. he was so uncoordinated our lips didn't even line up, no matter how hard i tried. "jesus, you're a bad kisser, j-dawg."

i scoffed. "not true. i am excellent. you're just drunk, you ass, you clearly don’t know your limit for rum. let me drive you back home before you fall and crack your skull open."

"kiss me again."

"no."

"come onnnn."

"no. it's almost 1 in the morning, i have to drive an hour back to columbus."

"you said you'd sleep over, you're a fucking liar."

i was dragging him to the car at this point, my eyes squinting trying to find his subaru i'd driven and parked somewhere in the downtown area. "just gimme a kiss," he tried to get in my face quickly, our lips meeting for just a second before i heard him burping.

"ugh. you're gonna barf."

"maybe... maybe a little..."

i stroked his back while he threw up his red robin lunch in a bush. 2 men walking by stared, both clearly disgusted. shame washed over my body.

he didn't protest once i finally found his car, sat (more like shoved, but gently) him in it, and clumsily drove him home. one of the headlights were out, making me drive overly slow around the random scattering of construction, even though it was the middle of december. a light rain began as soon as i pulled into his driveway.

"okay. go inside, drink water, get some sleep," i huffed.

"i would have done it, ya know," he looked at me for the first time all evening. my soul ached. "i'd kill any man who looked at you. that guy in the bar who kept staring wanted to fuck you. i almost fought him."

"ew. don't talk like that, and that's probably not even true," my face burned. "you get so volatile when you're fucked up."

he leaned his head against the passenger window, cheek smushed. "yeah, i know. come inside and sleep with me. we can just lay together in bed or have sex, i don't even care."

i got out of his car and walked to my sisters'. i heard his parents' dogs barking and saw a light pop up in his rich ass house. my hair immediately froze thanks to the cold rain. "i'm going home. text me when you’re sober, so i know you’re okay. good night." his parents did not want me there. if i stayed, id have gotten screamed at even more than i already had been that night.

the drive back to hilliard was tedious, and my eyes kept watering with tears. i don't know when he went inside his house, but he must have. the next morning i got a text that said, "i don't remember anything from last night except the terrible stand up comedy. had fun tho!! :)"

i decided, reading that text, one thing was certain: i hate dayton.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

every version of me is dead and buried in the yard outside my old childhood home. dig up my corpse if you must. just look at me. please.

[actuallyvady]

Every so often I make the joke that every piece of art or fic where kim is trans adds a year to my life but the reality is way more complicated and personal than that?

I have had a complicated relationship with my body for a long time. I think most trans people do, though each person experiences it differently. I'm lucky, in a lot of ways! My breasts are too small to need a bra or binder, and my features are generally androgynous; in most ways, dysphoria hasn't been terrible. Which is probably why it took so long to decide I wanted to transition. But there's one thing that has bothered me a lot for a long time: my genitals.

It's weird to talk about it. I hate even typing that word. Because I have hated that part of my body for so long. I didn't want to look at myself, I didn't want to touch myself any more than necessary-- I don't do tampons because it bothers me. I never really masturbated much. The worst part, though, is that I get the most pleasure from penetration-- I can have a clitoral orgasm without it, but I don't like it near as much.

When I thought I was a straight woman that was... fine. Straight men are bad at foreplay but they can usually manage what actually gets me off. I didn't really want them paying much attention to that part of me anyway-- oral always made me incredibly uncomfortable.

Then I started to realize I was not a woman. At first it was identifying as nonbinary, in various ways. But it came back, almost every time, to wishing I had a dick. Sometimes I wanted both, sometimes I wanted to just wave a magic wand and be entirely a cis man. I had the deeply frustrating experience of recognizing that I wanted to masturbate but didn't have the body to do what I actually wanted. The fact that I could only satisfy my arousal with penetration was much worse once I recognized that.

I started having relationships and sexual encounters with people that were not straight men, which meant that sex did not look the same anymore... and for years I just. Didn't bother with my own pleasure. I had plenty of fun! I very much enjoy getting my partner(s) off, in various ways. But I never let them return the favor. I almost never took off my underwear, even. It would ruin the moment, for me, because what I had was not what I wanted to have.

Recently I started thinking seriously about transitioning, and the question of whether I would want phalloplasty came back. After all, what I wanted was a dick, right? When I first started researching transition, like eight years ago, that was the first thing I looked into. I didn't really want the things that T would do (or so I thought, for years) but I wanted that.

And then I found Disco Elysium. And Kim Kitsuragi.

I feel personally called out by his existence for a lot of reasons. I won't go into most of it here. But one of the big ones is that he isn't a pretty anime boy, or otherwise especially conventionally attractive. He's older, he wears glasses, he's got a receding hairline. And suddenly I felt very okay with some of the aspects of transitioning that had made me hesitate before. Did I want body hair? What if I hated my voice? What if I lost my hair? The existence of Kim made all of that okay. He's the reason I'm on T now.

And then I started seeing trans Kim fanart. Not just fanart-- smutty fanart. And fanfic! Trans!Kim, with the genitals I have always had complicated feelings about, being portrayed as an attractive, sexual man. Trans!Kim enjoying having penetrative, vaginal sex. Trans!Kim being comfortable with and enjoying his body. Trans!Kim being masculine and horny and sexually desirable. There was a whole day I spent dissociating and looking at every bit of art and fic I could find. I genuinely felt like I was drunk or high.

And all of a sudden I found myself... feeling better about my body. I'll masturbate, now, just because I can, and enjoy it. I let my lover actually see all of me, and touch me, and get me off. I don't even really feel that need to have a dick anymore. Sure, if I could wave a magic wand I would do so but all the surgeries? It doesn't feel necessary anymore.

And that's because of trans!Kim.

That's why I say y'all are adding years to my life.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

as a prompt: these stupid hats w lena, kara, and alex respectively

disclaimer: i wrote this at 12:30 am running on the sugar high of an ice cold ovaltine drink topped with salted caramel ice cream that tastes more like salt than caramel and all of this was written without proofreading and prior research, so...read at your own risk. 

Alex wanted to burn the picture. She wanted it out of her sight. She wanted to see it up in flames until it has disintegrated into a million pieces. But...Kelly said she can’t. So, there on the mantel above the fireplace of their home stands a framed picture—a stupid picture, in Alex’s perspective—with Kara grinning in the middle, Lena on her left wearing a shy smile, and Alex wearing the biggest scowl on her face, arms crossed as Kara slung both arms around her and Lena. The three of them wearing the most stupid caps in the history of stupid caps.

See, there’s a story behind said stupid caps with the stupid captions on them. It was Nia who gave them the stupid caps. Two weeks after Alex told them the story...

A story Alex wishes no older sister ever has the tragedy of experiencing.

It started with a phone call in the middle of the night, as every good tragedy story starts with.

Kelly shakes her awake, "Babe, your phone s'ringing," she slurs sleepily. The shrill ringing finally breaking through Alex's sleepy stupor.

Who the fuck calls at 2 am? It was an unknown number which made Alex's heart rate speed. Oh God, what if something’s happened to their mother?

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Alexandra Danvers?"

It was too formal for a call in the middle of the night. Oh God, it's a hospital isn't it? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck—

"Uh, yes, yes this is Danvers, speaking."

She tries to keep the panic in control. 

"Ms. Danvers, this is Officer Brooke of NCPD, your sister, Kara Danvers, is now currently detained in our precinct for—"

Alex mind decided to dissociate the moment she heard the words; public indecency, bail and misdemeanor. 

“Thank you for informing me, officer. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Because, WHAT THE FUCK? 

You know that moment when something just shitty happens, and your body just goes into robot mode? Alex searching her bag and wrangling for her keys is what wakes Kelly up. 

"Alex? What are you doing? Where are you going?"

How do you tell your girlfriend that your sister and her girlfriend couldn't keep it in their pants, and now, she has to bail them out for acting like two horny teenagers?

Good God, this is a PR disaster, if one—just one paparazzi—caught wind that Lena Luthor is sitting in a cell right now, with about five other drunks and one kid whose pushing drugs, the media would have a field day. 

“Uhm, I have to go get Kara from a precinct. It’s a long story, babe. Go sleep. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Oh my god, precinct? What happened? Is she okay?”

Kelly bless her heart, was concerned about her sister’s wellbeing. Meanwhile, all Alex wants to do was punch the shit out of her. Never mind the fact that it would probably harm Alex more than Kara, but she’s fucking pissed. This is so stupid, of all the fucking bad decisions that would land Kara Danvers in jail, it’s public sex.

She doesn’t need this shit. 

“She’s okay, don’t worry,” Alex utters, thinking, Well, she isn’t gonna be okay once I’m done with her. 

“Go back to sleep, promise it’s nothing big. I gotta go now.”

***

“Alex!" Kara exclaims, behind bars. That's a sentence she'll never thought she'd associate with Kara. "Thank Rao, you’re here, we--”

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE BOTH OF YOU—" Alex pauses mid-yell, when she sees Lena stumble behind Kara, "Are you drunk?!!” 

“Oh my God, I swear to God, I’m going to die early because of your bullshit.”

Alex played the “I have the number of the Chief of Police and I can get your badge suspended since I am also the Director of a covert government agency, if you do not give me my sister and her girlfriend, right this instant” card. And now, she’s faced with a blushing Kara and an apparently still very drunk, very disheveled looking Lena Luthor. 

“We’re sorry!!”

“Oh, oh you better fucking be sorry, you’re telling J’onn I need my brain bleached tomorrow morning. Public indecency for fuck’s sake. You’re a billionaire couldn’t you have just called your driver?!”

“Oh, uhm well, uh we kind of uh I kind of--”

Oh my God, Lena Luthor is into exhibitionism. 

“Fuck. Okay, fine, whatever you’re forgiven I don’t give a shit anymore,just please shut up and please, please do not talk to me for the next 48 hours. Both of you. Understood?”

***

Apparently, Lena dragged Kara to Al’s claiming that, Kara what you need is a good drink. When’s the last time you experienced even a mild buzz?

And so, to the bar they went. Lena sending her driver home for the night, knowing that the both of them would be staying out late, and she can definitely just call an Uber or something, or maybe Kara wouldn’t really get drunk and they can just fly home. 

But none of those happened. Instead, what happened is Kara getting wasted like never before, and Lena going down right along with her. And as usual as things go with these two, an innocent kiss outside the bar quickly escalated into something...more. 

And now, here they were blushing and unable to look Alex in the eye in the back of Kelly’s car. Alex couldn’t exactly pick two drunk women with her bike could she?

She really didn’t know a person can be capable of feeling this much rage and exasperation but apparently, it is so very possible. 

The moment they arrive at Lena’s place, she doesn’t even tell them goodbye or acknowledge their sorry’s and thank you’s, she just stares ahead, knuckles white around the steering wheel as she hears the car door close. 

***

“It’s a very funny picture, Alex,” Kelly whispers in her ear, hugging her from behind as Alex glares at the newly-framed photo. 

“That wasn’t a fun night, and this isn’t a funny photo. It’s a traumatic reminder, Kelly.”

“Stop being dramatic. It’s a cute photo. Nia really captured the essence, you know?”

Kelly lets out a laugh at Alex’s knitted eyebrows, once she spins around in her arms to face her. 

“They better call Nia the next time they get arrested.”

“You think there’s gonna be a next time?”

“Kelly, it’s Kara and Lena. There’s gonna be a next time.”

[serenescribbles]

Forever Safe in Your Arms

For Jasonette July Prompt: Protection

Inspired by this one sentence in What if We Make an Exception? by @newdog14

And that sentence is: “No, no, I met him a few years back,” Marinette said. “He helped me take down a few muggers and then, and this is why he’s my favorite, he helped me fix my English essay while walking me home.”

Translations of Words(according to Google Translate): - Stupide means Stupid - Professeure means Professor/Teacher - Devoir means Homework - Livre means Book - Université means College/University - Collège means Middle School - Lycée means High School

CW: Kidnapping, Graphic-ish Descriptions of Injuries, Swearing, Mentions of Suicide, Acceptance of Death, Dissociation, Attempted Sexual Assault

AO3 | Masterlist

一

“Stupide professeure, stupide devoir, stupide livre!” A young woman growled, as she stalked home to her apartment. She was wearing a black hoodie with the Gotham University crest on it.

Marinette had just gotten out of class and was walking home alone.

“Oh, if I ever get my hands on the stupide person who decided this was a good assignment, I will personally throttle their throat and torture them until they’re begging for death!”

Now, for a normal person, it would be very concerning to overhear someone plotting murder. But this is Gotham, some crazy shit has happened here, so no one thought to look twice at the angry bluenette planning torture out loud in the Gotham streets.

If you looked at the Joker or any other Rogue, she seemed tame in comparison.

So Marinette supposes that because of every Gothamites’ nonchalant reaction to everything, that’s why her back is currently being pushed against the wall, with a knife pointed at her, while no one pays her cries of help any attention.

She knows that she could easily take this man out but after being so angry about her English Literature assignment, Marinette can’t find the energy within her to do so.

The man isn’t even in a 10 feet radius of her and she can smell the scent of beer permeating through the air surrounding her.

Marinette can tell he’s drunk because his cheeks are tinged pink and his voice slurs when he tells her, “Haand over all yer valuables an’ yer won’ be ‘urt.”

Marinette tells the man that she doesn’t have anything valuable on her, hoping to steer him away in his drunkenness.

But the man persists, saying, “Yer lyin’! I know yer are! Sho I’ll need ta do a pat down check ta see if yer tellin’ da truth.” The man shoots her a lewd smirk as he creeps closer, giggling like a fool and rubbing his hands together.

Marinette closes her eyes to make it seem like she’s scared, but secretly prepares to knee him in the groin as soon as he gets close. She waits for the right moment but it never comes. Then she hears the man let out a faint oof!

Opening her eyes, Marinette sees that the man is being pinned down by a figure in a red helmet. Marinette’s stomach drops, she recognizes who that is. It’s the Red Hood. Marinette can clearly recall the news headline of him sending eight severed heads in a duffel bag to the GCPD.

Now she’s really in trouble.

If it was just the drunken man, Marinette would have no problem apprehending him. But the Red Hood was a big, bulky mass of a man who boldly contrasted against her tiny, lithe form. There was no way she would be able to escape from him, especially since he was armed and she wasn’t, as Marinette warily glanced at the guns strapped to his sides.

Just then, the man’s pained scream drew Marinette’s attention back to the two men. Looking at the sight in front of her, Marinette was reminded of just what exactly made the Red Hood so terrifying.

The man who was just about to assault her before was now laying frozen on the ground limply. His crumpled body stuck out at odd angles and it was painful for Marinette to look at. Both of his legs were broken and the man let out a tiny little whimper. The hands that had been planning to touch her were now broken.

But his face, oh God! He’d been punched multiple times and several of his teeth had been knocked out. Blood was oozing out of his nose which had been bent in a weird way. One of his eyes had a blackeye blooming around it and the expression in his eyes was full of horror.

Marinette could do nothing but watch as the Red Hood placed one foot over the man’s chest and stepped hard. She could hear a crack and Marinette winced. This man’s rib cage was probably broken now too. He let out little wheezing breaths, looking up at the Red Hood, eyes begging for mercy.

But the Red Hood let his pleas go ignored and pointing his gun at the man’s head, he snarled, “What’s so good about cornering girls in alleyways, huh? Bastards like you are the reasons why girls and women are scared to walk alone in Gotham! You want to beg me for mercy? You wish! Have you ever shown mercy to all the girls who you’ve raped when they’ve begged you to stop? No, you haven’t! So I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine!”

Then he stepped on the man’s face before… BANG! The Red Hood fired his gun and in a flash, her would-be assaulter was dead on the ground. His blood was seeping everywhere, and Marinette had to step back to keep it from coming into contact with her shoe.

Her sudden movement caused the Red Hood to remember that he wasn’t the only one there. The menacing red helmet turned towards her and Marinette couldn’t help but feel scrutinized. Marinette stood stock still, unsure of what she should do, as even the simplest of movements could result in her laying dead right next to the man in the alleyway.

An involuntary shudder went through Marinette.

If she died, would anyone care?

It’s not like she had any friends, they’d all denounced her when Lila said that she had bullied her.

And Adrien, oh, poor sweet Adrien, after it was revealed that his own father was Hawkmoth and Nathalie had died due to the overuse of the Peacock miraculous, he’d desperately begged her to erase all of his memories of ever being Chat Noir, and instead replacing them with normal, civilian ones.

How could she deny him, after he said that if she didn’t erase his memories, he would kill himself?

Now, Adrien is an empty shell of what he once was, and he barely knows her. After all, many of their interactions depended on the fact that he was Chat Noir.

It was so painful for Marinette to wipe his memories. She had just learned who her partner was behind the mask and it turned out he was her crush! But she lost him too quickly to actually get to know all sides of him.

But her parents, Nonna, and Nonno! Maman and Papa had died when a fire broke out in a bakery.

While Nonna died a year ago. Her adventurous personality was what brought her down. When she went rock climbing on a mountain, she lost her footing and plummeted to her death. Her body was only recovered months after she had initially died.

And after hearing the news, Nonno died of heartbreak not soon after. Leaving Marinette alone in the world as an orphan.

Not being able to live in Paris after everything that had happened to her, Marinette made the decision to go to Gotham University for Université, although her tragic past continued to haunt her to this day.

Why had she wanted to move to this damned city? A city which was every man for themselves, where people continued to walk by even as someone cried for help?

Marinette was going to die. She was going to die after years of surviving everything life threw at her. And right when she was finally beginning her path to healing, would you look at that?

All throughout her life, Fate had loved to play jokes on her. Now on the one time when Marinette thought she could finally be happy, finally be free, Fate was proving her wrong, again.

‘Well,’ Marinette thought, her mouth twisting into a wry smile, ‘It looks like Fate has actually done a favor for her this time.’

Dying today isn’t so bad. Afterall, if she does end up dead, that means that she won’t have to complete that stupid English Literature assignment!

A bitter laugh escaped Marinette’s lips.

The Red Hood tensed, his hand immediately darting for his gun.

Oh well, Marinette supposed she would seem crazy to him. Letting out a hollow laugh after standing still and staring blankly just minutes before would do that.

In a cautious tone, he asked her, “Hey, miss, are you alright? And what was with that laugh just now?”

Taking a deep breath, Marinette said her last goodbyes in her mind.

Maman, Papa, Nonna, Nonno, Adrien, Master Fu, and Tikki, I’m sorry for failing all of you. Maybe if I was better, things wouldn’t have turned out this way. I hope you can find it within yourselves to forgive me.

Seeing as these words would be her last, Marinette decided to be entirely truthful with the Red Hood. “I will be. And I laughed because I realized that I won’t have to complete my English Literature assignment afterall.”

The Red Hood tilted his head. “And why is that?”

“Well, aren’t you planning on killing me? I can’t exactly do my assignment if I’m dead.”

“But why would I kill you?”

“I dunno,” Marinette shrugs her shoulders. “But isn’t killing sort of your thing?”

He sputters, “Well, yeah, it is, but that doesn't mean I kill innocent civilians! What’s wrong with you?”

“Everything.” She deadpans.

“Wha一” the Red Hood begins, before cutting himself off and shaking his head.

“Listen, I won’t be killing you. ‘Specially since you want to die. Here’s what we’re gonna do instead. I, am going to walk you home to wherever you live. As we walk, you, are going to explain to me what your English Lit. assignment is. And after I’m done helping you with it, you, are going to continue on with your life and preferably not allow yourself to be killed so easily. Because if I was anybody else, I definitely would’ve killed you after you offered yourself up to me as easily as that.”

Marinette wanted to protest but thankfully, her self-preservation instincts finally kicked in and she obediently complied. Though not after some huffing and pouting of course.

Seeing a crime lord walking with a tiny slip of a woman who looked sleep deprived did garner some stares and Marinette was painfully aware of the stares burning at the back of her neck. Even after being Ladybug for so many years and being forced to grow up far too quickly, Marinette still wasn’t accustomed to being in the spotlight.

But although she was anxious, Marinette suppressed her feelings because one quick glance at the Red Hood showed that he was generally unaffected by the extra attention on them.

At the beginning of their walk, Marinette was on edge and was careful of what she said, but as time passed, she gradually relaxed but was still cautious. While conversing, Marinette was surprised by how knowledgeable the Red Hood was about english literature. Not that she was complaining, because she needed to write an essay analyzing Jane Eyre.

She just couldn't understand how anybody could like the book! There were copious amounts of confusing language that Marinette simply could not understand. Though, it made sense given that English wasn’t her first language so of course there would be things she wouldn’t get. It was just, Marinette could read other books in English just fine! It was only the old books and plays that she struggled with.

By the time the two of them made it to her tiny apartment, Marinette’s essay was practically already written in her head. Talking with the Red Hood had really helped her understand some of the more confusing parts in the book. Eager to get started on her essay, Marinette thanked him for saving her and bid him a quick goodbye, before hurrying inside her apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tap! Tap!

Marinette looked up from where she was sitting at her desk in her apartment. She was currently working on her essay for her Business Entrepreneurship class. She’d put her hair up in a bun to keep it from interfering with her work and she had her reading glasses on.

Looking in the direction of the glass sliding doors that led to her balcony, she saw Hood on the other side, and when he saw that he had her attention, he gave her a little wave and motioned for her to come outside.

Sighing, Marinette set the pencil she’d been twirling around for the last few minutes down. Slipping her shoes on, Marinette slid the glass door and went outside.

After being inside her warm and cozy apartment, Marinette struggled to adjust to the coldness of the outside. Shivering a little, Marinette must’ve looked a sight to any onlookers. It was autumn, nearing winter, and here was Marinette, in a ratty old faded pink t-shirt and jean shorts.

Hood looked like he was trying to stifle his amusement at her discomfort.

“You think I’m amusing, Hood?”

“Not at all, Pixie-Pop! I just suddenly thought of a very funny joke in my head.”

“Oh, care to share with the class?”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

It had been a few weeks since Marinette’s fateful encounter with Hood. After helping her with her English Literature assignment, Marinette had received an A from her professor.

Marinette had thought that was the end of it until Hood showed up on her balcony one night while she was out there. Apparently, he wanted to know her results after he’d helped her and Hood had been ecstatic that she’d gotten an A.

After that, he continued to show up every so often under the guise of “making sure she didn’t kill herself”. Marinette didn’t believe his bullshit one bit, especially since she had no actual intention to commit suicide. She had just slipped up one time, one time dammit!

At first, Marinette was perplexed as to why Hood was so interested in her. It’s not like she was anything special, afterall, there were tons of sleep deprived, coffee-addicted college students out there in the world.

One night in her confusion, Marinette asked him what was so interesting about her. Marinette definitely hadn’t expected the answer he gave her and the outcome of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Red Hood,” Marinette began hesitantly. “Why do you keep on visiting me? I don’t think I’m that special.”

After some silence, the Red Hood finally answered her. “You really wanna know why?”

At Marinette’s vigorous shaking of her head, he continued, “Well, part of the reason is that you’re self-aware. You know who you are and aren’t. You’re also humble, you don’t make yourself out to be someone greater than who you actually are.”

He paused for a moment, as if he was carefully considering what he said next. “But the bigger reason why I stick around is because when you look at me, you’re able to look past all the masks and barriers I put up and see who I really am inside. And I still don’t know how you do that, especially since you’re younger than me.

Other than seeing through me, you never judge me for killing. You’ve heard the Bat, he believes I should go to Arkham just for killing people. Even if they were terrible people. But you, you don’t just label me as a bad person because I kill, you try to understand why I kill.

Do you一 do you know what Gotham’s underbelly calls me?”

Marinette gave the Red Hood a questioning glance. He swallows and starts speaking again.

“You may not, but I do. I’ve heard what they whisper in the dark when they think I’m not listening. Monster. Murderer. Demon. Psycho. And you know what, I believe what they say. Because I am a monster, a murderer, a demon, a psycho, and so much more. But you don’t believe that.

The first day we met, you saw me torture and kill a man. You even thought that I would kill you. Despite that, you were able to talk and exchange quips with me when I walked you home. You didn’t even mind when people stopped and stared at us.

And look at us now! You’re completely comfortable with me coming over to your apartment and talking with you every few nights!

I guess what I’m trying to say is, being with a person like you who understands who I am deep down inside and doesn’t try to judge me for my decisions is refreshing. You honestly don’t know how many times you’ve made my day by just being you.

You know,” the Red Hood says wistfully looking up at the moon while leaning against the railing of her balcony, “when I was younger, I would’ve killed, figuratively, not literally, to have a sister older or younger, or really just anyone like you in my life.”

Marinette had no words for how she felt at that moment. All her life, no one had really told her that they appreciated all that she did. Yeah, they had said thanks, but did they actually mean it, or did they say it simply out of obligation? Sure, Adrien did thank her sincerely, multiple times at that, but did it really count if the person who appreciated her efforts didn’t even remember saying it?

And here was someone who didn’t even know all of the details of her life who was doing more for her than those who actually knew her ever did.

Marinette guessed her silence must’ve made the Red Hood nervous as he spoke again. “Hey, I’m sorry for just dumping all of that on you. You were probably expecting a short answer but here I go on a lengthy speech that you didn’t ask for. I probably made you so uncomfortable, I’m so so一” the Red Hood meant to go on but Marinette held up a finger for him to stop.

Now, the helmet’s attention was fully focused on her.

Very slowly, Marinette chose her next words deliberately, “I,” she swallowed, “would’ve liked to have someone like you in my life too. I know my life probably wasn’t as hard as yours but I still would’ve appreciated someone being there for me when I needed it. And there’s no need to apologize, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. To be honest, I needed to hear your words. I seriously can’t think of the last time someone appreciated me that much. So thank you, for your kind words.”

The Red Hood goes silent, and Marinette can understand. Afterall, what can you say to something like that?

So Marinette simply says nothing and quietly walks up to where he’s standing, leans against the railing, and reaches out her hand to grasp his. The Red Hood stiffens a little before relaxing his posture.

They stay like that for a few minutes, hand in hand, until Marinette finally decides to break the silence. Her voice wavering, Marinette asks uncertainly, “Did you一 did you really mean it when you said you would’ve liked a sister like me?”

Without pause, the Red Hood confidently says, “Yes. I did.”

The way he said it without thinking, like he was absolutely sure of himself almost made Marinette cry.

Blinking back tears, Marinette’s voice wobbles. “You know, I was an only child growing up. My parents were always busy with their business so I longed for a sibling to talk to and play whenever I got bored. But then a few years back, my parents died. And just last year, my grandparents passed away too. So I’m an orphan all alone in the world.”

Click.

The sudden sound surprises Marinette a little. Looking back up at the Red Hood with watery eyes, Marinette is astonished to see that he took his helmet off for the first time. Setting his helmet down gently on a table nearby, Marinette can clearly see his face for the first time. But he has a domino mask on, of course.

Looking at her directly, he swallows and says, “Well, if you’d like, I could be your big brother. I mean, I don’t really have anyone either and since we both like each other, I thought, ‘Hey! Why not?’”

Marinette was stunned, what could she say to an offer like that?

“I一” But Marinette’s throat refused to work at that moment.

Lowering his voice, he turns his head away and mumbles, “Sorry, that was a stupid idea…”

Seeing how dejected the Red Hood looks, Marinette pulls him in for a hug whispering, “I would love that!”

He hugs her back and they stay there for a moment, just like that. Each of them finding comfort in their sibling’s arms.

Pulling back from her brother, Marinette says, “Well, I can’t keep calling you ‘the Red Hood’ in my mind and out loud, so, you got any nicknames you want me to call you?”

“I guess you could call me Hood,” Jason muses, but then his face morphs into an uncomfortable expression.

“I suppose you’ll want to know my secret identity then,” as he motions to remove his domino mask.

Sensing his discomfort, Marinette grabs his hand to stop him from what he was doing and firmly states, “No. Being siblings now means that you should feel comfortable around me and I, vice versa. You shouldn’t feel obligated to reveal your identity to me. I don’t mind if you choose to share it with me at a later date or even never reveal it to me at all. But you need to remember that you should never do something unless you’re absolutely comfortable with doing it.”

Marinette wasn’t lying, truthfully, it really didn’t matter to her who the Red Hood, no, Hood was under the mask.

Even though Chat Noir was a good partner, she’d never felt comfortable with him always insisting for them to reveal their identities, and she didn’t want Hood to feel that way either.

Did the mask hide an aspect of him from her? Yes. But did it change the fact that he was still her brother? No. Absolutely not!

There was an awkward silence after because of how embarrassed Hood was after hearing her words.

Trying to regain his “wounded manly pride”, as Marinette put it, Hood suggested, “Well, if you’re going to call me ‘Hood’, then I guess I’ll call you Pixie-Pop because of how tiny you are!”

“Hey! That’s mean!” Marinette exclaims, crossing her arms and turning away from him.

“Sorry…” replied Hood, though not sounding like he meant it at all.

Marinette harrumphed, but cracking one eye open to look at Hood, they held eye contact with each other for a moment before promptly bursting out into laughter.

That was the last sound Marinette remembered hearing, her and Hood’s mingled laughter, insterpersing with each other through the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was torn from her thoughts by a finger poking her cheek.

“Nettieee,” Hood whined playfully, “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh! Nothing, nothing!” Marinette waved Hood’s finger away with a casual dismissal wave with her hand.

Placing her hands on her hips, she shook her finger at him, “Now, if you aren’t here for something serious then I’m going back inside. I have an essay to write!”

Hood stared at her blankly for a sliver of a second before laughing a deep and hearty laugh.

Marinette was confused, ‘Did she say something funny?’ She tilted her head.

After a few seconds, Hood was able to calm down a little and he managed between breaths, “Sorry… you were just… too funny. You… were trying… to look serious… but because of… how tiny you are… it totally ruined it!”

And then Hood burst into laughter again.

Marinette pouted. Poking Hood in the ribs, his laughs turned into complaints.

“Ouch! Stop that! I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have made fun of you!”

Finally satisfied with his apology, Marinette relented.

“Okay,” Hood panted. “As crazy as this may seem, I actually do have a reason for visiting you today.

You see, I’m going to be out of town for the next two weeks, so here’s a secure phone number you can contact me with.”

Hood handed her a note with a phone number scribbled on it: XXX - XXX - XX84

Marinette quickly adds the phone number to her contacts before ripping the piece of paper up and disposing of it in her trash can.

While she was doing that, Hood spoke again, “Here.”

He handed her a tiny little pin with his symbol on it.

“What is this,” Marinette inquired, not sure why Hood gave her this.

Hood grunted. “Bring that with you wherever you go. If you ever get cornered by some creep, just show that to them. They know what it means.”

Marinette teasingly said, “And what does it mean?”

“Uhh, it has my symbol on it, so others know that you’re one of my people and to not touch you.” Hood quietly mumbled while scratching his cheek and looking away.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that I was one of your people.”

Hood turned to face her. “Of course you are! You’re my sister, so you’re under my protection! But since I’ll be away for a while, and I won’t be able to protect you myself, this is how I will!

No one would dare harm a single hair on your head if it meant provoking me.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment,” Marinette pouted, “Do you really have so little faith in my fighting capabilities? That I won’t be able to fend off any would-be attackers on my own?”

“N-no! Not at all! I was just一 I was just making sure you had all the protection you could get! I have no doubt in your skills, I simply wanted to give you an extra layer of security, for both your sake and mine.” Hood floundered, flapping his hands everywhere in the air.

“Calm down, Hood! I was just joking. I really do appreciate you thinking about me. You’re the best brother a girl could have!”

Hood turned scarlet and the tips of his ears were tinged pink because of her words.

“That said, since you’re the greatest brother in the whole wide world, could you take a look at my essay?” Marinette asked slyly, making sure to widen her eyes to make herself look really innocent and cute, while shining her puppy dog eyes at Hood.

“Of course! Anything for my little sister!” Hood exclaimed.

And the two siblings headed inside Marinette’s apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette awoke with a start. She was blindfolded, and her hands were tied behind her back with a rope that dug into her skin really deep. Marinette was sure that if she got out of this position, there would be rope burn marks around her skin for weeks.

Where was she?

It had been a week since Hood had left, and she’d talked with him a few times.

The last thing Marinette remembered was ending a call with Hood before being surprised and ambushed by someone. Her attacker had held a rag up to her lips and nose and whatever drugs were in it had knocked her out.

Now that she thought about it, Marinette did feel a little drowsy. Her head hurt immensely, black spots danced before her eyes and it was making her nauseous.

Curious, who would kidnap her? More importantly, who had the guts to provoke the Red Hood by kidnapping someone under his protection?

These last few days, Marinette had been cornered into alleyways by criminals, but they’d always ceased and desisted whenever she flashed the Red Hood symbol at them. None of them wanted to be the target of the Red Hood’s ire by hurting one of his people.

But apparently, whoever had kidnapped her didn’t care at all. Meaning A, they were stronger than Hood so they didn’t fear him. Or B, they purposefully kidnapped her to make a statement, which Marinette sincerely hoped not.

Doing a quick surveillance of her surroundings, to try and surmise where she was, Marinette tried to see if she could smell anything. Marinette felt like she could smell smoke, like something was burning in the distance. There was also the overpowering smell of fish. That almost sent Marinette retching but it gave her a clue.

Was she down by the docks?

Trying to sniff the air again, Marinette found that she wasn’t able to. She was still high on whatever drugs she had inhaled and it made her nose extremely stuffy.

Changing tactics, Marinette strained her ears for any sound. But it was futile, all Marinette could hear was the furious ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump of her heart racing and the occasional drip of water leaking from the roof of whatever this place was into what Marinette assumed was an increasingly large puddle.

Marinette’s best guess was that her kidnapper(s) had knocked her out and then taken her to a discreet warehouse near the docks and they were waiting for her to wake up.

Suddenly, Marinette heard a thud-thud-thud from outside the room? she was in. Someone was approaching! Any drowsiness Marinette had before was quickly fading.

As Marinette heard the door handle rattle with a rat-tat-tat, she quickly feigned unconsciousness right as the door burst open.

Immediately, she heard two unfamiliar but undeniably male voices.

“She still not awake yet?”

“Yes sir, sorry sir! The drugs must’ve been too powerful.”

“Excuses, excuses! If she doesn’t wake up any time soon, I ‘ave half the mind to wake her myself.”

The way the first man said “wake” made Marinette barely suppress a shudder. She definitely didn’t like the suggestive tone his voice took on while saying that word.

“But sir! The boss said we weren’t to harm her!”

“Well, what ‘e doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im, will it?” The first man growled menacingly to the second.

“Of course, sir!”

Although Marinette didn’t like what she was hearing, she was able to learn a new piece of information. The two men who were currently in the room with her were probably just some hired goons. There was someone else in the shadows, pulling their strings, but who?

In all her time living in Gotham, Marinette couldn’t think of a single instance where she’d accidentally offended a bigshot in Gotham’s underworld.

Had she pissed off a few Gothamites with her too bright, too cheerful, and sunny disposition? More times than she could count! But would that actually warrant anybody hiring goons to kidnap her? Absolutely not!

Just then, Marinette heard a third voice interject in the two men’s conversation.

Sounding as if he was talking to the first man, the third voice said in a silky tone, “You weren’t about to go against my orders, were you? Because if I recall correctly, I specifically said that the target was not to be harmed. It will do me no good if she is.”

The first man audibly gulped while the second one stammered, “O-of course not, b-boss! ‘E was just一 he was just talking. He wasn’t planning on doin’ nothin’! I s-swear!”

“Y-yeah! What ‘e said!”

The third man chuckled, it was a deep, sinister laugh. “No need to get so worked up about it, you two. I was just joking. Surely you know the difference between a joke and actually meaning something, right?”

There was a dramatic whoosh! of air, as if the two men couldn’t shake their heads fast enough.

“Now, how exactly have you two imbeciles not realized that the target is awake and has been listening to our conversation? The. Whole. Time?”

Marinette broke out into a sweat. The first two men hadn’t noticed so how had he? From the way they addressed the third man, he must be the one who hired them!

She heard footsteps draw near her as one of the goons ripped the blindfold off of her.

Now Marinette had a full view of the room she was contained in.

Her previous guess was right, she was in a warehouse. Though this fact didn’t make Marinette’s stomach feel any less queasy.

Raising her head to look at the other occupants of the room, Marinette saw the two goons first. The two of them were dressed nearly identical, all black clothing and brown leather boots, though one of them had a nose piercing. They were pretty unremarkable as Marinette turned her attention away from them and focused on the person who had ordered her kidnapping in the first place.

Staring straight at him, he stared coldly right back at her.

He was masked, with a plain black domino mask, so all Marinette could see was the lower half of his face. He dressed immaculately in black clothing and had a hooded cloak on.

The two of them engaged in a deadly staring contest before his lips curled up into a sneer and he broke off eye contact by saying, “So this is the girl the Red Hood has been visiting recently?”

Breaking out into a loud voice, he uttered, “Are you sure you two got the right girl? She seems a bit young for the Red Hood. I would’ve thought he’d choose someone older, but I suppose he likes this type of thing.”

Marinette grit her teeth and she mustered up the strongest glare she could, just for him.

What was the point of saying things like this?

This man knew she was the one he wanted so why question her? He was mocking her, baiting her into taking action against him. Unfortunately for him, Marinette wouldn’t be provoked so easily.

Holding her head up high, Marinette thought to herself, ‘He would have to try harder than that if he wanted to get a reaction out of her.’

The man continued to speak. “You there! Give me your phone! We’ll need photographic evidence if we want the Red Hood to believe she’s actually here.”

Boldly, Marinette spoke up for the first time, “You can take whatever plans you have and shove them up your asses. The Red Hood’s not in Gotham.”

“Oh,” the man stares at her, intrigued. “And how would you know that? Did he tell you that when he last visited you?”

Marinette didn’t answer him and simply glared.

“Tut, tut! Why, has no one ever taught you any manners? Because I’m sure you’re supposed to answer back when Someone. Asks. You. A. Question.” The man suddenly leaned towards her and harshly grabbed her chin, tilting it up towards his face.

Ptui! Seeing her chance, Marinette spit in the man’s face. Distantly in the background, Marinette could see the second man start to tremble a great deal.

While the first man muttered, “Oh, she’s really done it now.”

Looking back up at the man in front of her, his once teasing aura had changed into a cold, deadly rage. He took out a handkerchief to wipe the spit on his face away before tossing it in the second man’s hands for him to dispose of.

His lips thinned into a small straight line as he said in a soft tone, “Think that’s funny, do you? I was joking earlier but really, you don’t know any manners at all! So someone ought to teach you.” The man’s voice took on a nasty edge at the end and Marinette was beginning to regret spitting at him.

Pah!

Marinette’s cheek stung greatly, the man had just slapped her. A raging fire burned underneath her skin and it was excruciating. Her cheek began to swell with redness but Marinette was numb to the pain, numb to everything.

She dully registered the man grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking it with all his might.

“Not so brave now, eh?” The man paused for a moment to see how unattached Marinette’s eyes were to the world.

“Damn it! Can’t you take a little pain? I need you to be conscious for later! Why’s the Red Hood so interested in a weakling like you?”

The three men then tried all ways to make her come to. Soon, Marinette’s body was littered with bruises.

One of the men, Marinette didn’t know who, tried slapping her again. He continued to do that, hitting both of her cheeks over and over again in rapid succession. The man only stopped when he saw that no matter how many times he slapped her, or how much force he used, it would not break Marinette out of the trance she was in.

Then, the men tried pinching her face, arms, and legs. Yet again, their efforts bore no results. Frustrated, they finally lost their patience with her and started kicking and punching her.

“Stupid trash!” One of the men cursed.

“Why aren’t you waking up?”

“Useless!”

But the third man, their boss, interjected, “That’s enough! Do not waste your energy on the girl. She’s already injured enough. If you injure her further, that will just make the Red Hood furious and more homicidal. Her injuries right now are enough to make the Red Hood anxious and reckless but not enough to send him into a rage.”

And with that, he turned on his cloak and swept out the door.

After a few moments, the two men also left the room, slamming the door shut. Now, Marinette was all alone, her crumpled form sprawled across the concrete floor.

This whole time, Marinette could only barely register the harm being doled out to her person.

Marinette can’t really tell where she is right now, but something at the back of her mind whispers that it’s her happy place, a place where she can escape from everything and everyone. The voice is right, it’s like Marinette is detached from her body. Strangely, she can see what’s happening to it while experiencing it at the same time.

As the men shout at Marinette to snap out of it, her inner voice complains.

Why? Why would she ever want to wake up? She’s happy here, all warm and floaty, nothing can touch her now.

Including Lila, Chloe, and Sabrina.

Faintly, Marinette recalls experiencing the same airy and light feeling back when she was in collège and then in lycée.

Yes, Marinette remembers the confrontations in the girls’ bathroom. Sometimes it was all three of them, and other times it was just the one or pairs of them. No matter what, it always went the same.

Marinette would go to the bathroom, and then they would follow to corner her. The first few times, it was simple, locking her inside the stall and blocking the door so she couldn’t get out. But as time went on, the attacks escalated, especially after Alya moved away.

It started with a little slap here and there, or causing her to trip every so often, but before Marinette could realize, she began to get beat downs regularly. Both verbal and physical ones at that.

As much as Marinette wanted to tell someone about the pain she was suffering, who could she tell? Not only that, who would actually listen to her?

If she told a teacher or the principal, all Lila had to do was cry some crocodile tears or Chloe could just throw money at them to make them believe Marinette was lying.

And it’s not like she could tell her friends or parents either. Lila and Chloe had made it their personal duty to alienate Marinette from anyone and everyone. While the latter weren’t there anymore because her parents were dead.

Without anyone to turn to, Marinette accepted her fate. If she couldn’t prevent the beat downs, then she would just have to learn how to endure the pain.

So, whenever Marinette got cornered in the bathroom, she knew what to do. Marinette withdrew herself from the world, forgot where she was, who she was, and let herself get lost in the floaty feeling of freedom.

After Marinette discovered this method of escape, she found it helped to decrease the durations of the beat downs. Afterall, what was the point of repeatedly kicking, punching, and scratching her if she didn’t respond?

That’s why, after years of experiencing beat downs by the trio, Marinette knew to detach herself from her mind as soon as the man swung the palm of his hand towards her cheek.

And now, all Marinette had to do was wait it out. She could do that. Marinette had been waiting all her life for someone to appreciate her, for someone to take the load off of her instead of the other way around, for someone who understood all the pain and trauma she carried. So what’s adding one more thing to the list to wait for?

So Marinette persisted and she waited… and waited… and waited. And finally, they got tired of hurting her and left.

Willing herself to return to her body, Marinette’s eyes became lively again. But she was hit full force with the pain of the injuries given to her.

“Ughnnn,” Marinette moaned in pain. But she was quick to muffle her mouth lest one of the men hear her.

Marinette felt like her leg was on fire. The men stepping on her body must’ve broken it. As Marinette lay head to the floor, her vision was spotty, and she found herself unable to keep her eyes open for long periods of time.

Her head was ringing with an annoying and persistent white buzzing sound.

Marinette tried to lift her head up off the ground but she was hit with a sudden bout of dizziness. The entire world was spinning off its axis and it took some time for Marinette to get everything back into control again.

Very drained, Marinette couldn’t do anything except lay uselessly on the concrete floor, fading in and out of consciousness.

Just then, Marinette heard some shouts from outside the door and the sound of multiple guns shooting from different areas all at once.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BAM! BAM! BOOM!

As quick as the fighting had started, it soon ended in a flash.

At this point, Marinette was barely awake, although she was panicking. Whoever had attacked was heading her way. She could hear the pounding footsteps, thud-thud-thud, as they came to a stop outside the door.

Marinette heard them pause before, CRASH! They had kicked the door open. Marinette was blacking out and paid no attention to what they were saying as they ran towards her and knelt down by her side.

But she could make out the words, “Pixie! … hurt… stay awake… hold on!”

With one final thought, Marinette mustered up the last of her strength to weakly choke out, “H-hood?” And then she passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette blearily opened her eyes and was surprised to see that her location had changed. She thrashed against the blankets she was wrapped in due to the confusion.

A calming voice held a hand to her forehead while patting her back and whispering, “Shh, shh! You’re okay! You’re safe now! Don’t worry!”

Marinette slowly lay down in the bed she was in before realizing where she was. Eyes staring straight up at the ceiling fixated on the familiar drawing up there, Marinette realized with a start, ‘She was in her room! But how?’

Marinette darted her eyes from left to right, catching the blue-green eyes of a stranger staring intently at her. This was the person who had calmed her down when she’d woken up earlier. Looking at him curiously, Marinette wondered who he was.

Although she knew she should be scared that there was an unfamiliar male in her room, Marinette couldn’t find it within herself to care. Plus, Marinette’s inner instincts told her that this man was trustworthy so Marinette went with it.

Marinette felt very tired and extremely sore.

The stranger had bandaged her wounds while she was sleeping, proving he was a good person.

However, Marinette could also feel that her clothes had been changed, had he done that for her too? Marinette sincerely hoped not.

Because it was one thing to dress someone’s wounds while they were sleeping but it was a whole different story if he had undressed her when she couldn’t give him her consent.

Be that as that might, Marinette was simply too exhausted to care. The man’s face seemed to resemble someone she knew and judging by his aura, he bore no evil intentions towards her.

So Marinette let herself succumb back to the darkness, to the warmth of the blankets wrapped around her as her mind joyously hissed, ‘Yes! Sleep…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette jolted awake, she immediately sat up straight and noticed that she was still in her room.

When she had woken up earlier, Marinette had thought that waking up in her room was just something she had imagined. Something her brain had conjured up because of the safety of her room in the midst of all the danger she was in.

Marinette examined her room and once again, the stranger was there. Only now, he was asleep, his head down on his shoulders, leaning down on her bed.

Well, well, well, how the tables turn.

Looking closely at the stranger, Marinette noticed the dusty freckles littered across his skin. He had a very sharp jawline and something about his face unsettled her. The man also had black hair with a thin, wispy, white hair stroke that was currently ruffled due to his sleeping position.

He shifted in his sleep and Marinette quickly turned her head away, so as to not be caught staring. But the man did not wake up.

Marinette noticed that hanging on the back of the chair he was sitting on, there was a very familiar leather jacket. Marinette gasped unintentionally.

That’s the leather jacket she’d personally made for Hood after his old one started fraying!

Then, Marinette spotted something in the periphery of her eye. Sitting on the carpet on the ground next to the chair, was Hood’s red helmet!

What was it doing here? Unless…

Like a fog was suddenly lifted from her brain, Marinette connected all the dots. Hearing Hood call her name right before she passed out, waking up to a stranger with a familiar face, and seeing Hood’s gear in her room! There was no doubt about it! This strange man currently snoring away at her bedside was Hood, her brother!

Although Marinette was glad to know that it wasn’t a random stranger who had saved her and instead her brother, a part of Marinette twinged with guilt. Hood probably didn’t intend for her to find out his identity. He’d most likely taken his mask off because he was beginning to feel tired and because she wouldn’t be watching!

Oh, Marinette felt particularly horrible right now. She knew Hood was hesitant about sharing his true identity and Marinette had always told him he could share it on his own terms. But now Marinette had gone and taken his choice away!

And now, Hood was going to wake up and realize she’d seen his face. Then, he would get really angry at her and declare they weren’t brother and sister anymore! He’d demand for her to give up his phone number and the pin that signaled she was under his protection! After that, he would avoid her and there would be no more late night balcony visits!

And Marinette would be so depressed, just going through college and staying in her apartment all the time. But then, one night, Marinette would be out on her balcony before Hood suddenly came and demanded that she sign an NDA so she wouldn’t give up his identity and then he would disappear! Marinette would probably never see him again!

Suddenly, there was a hand with a gentle but firm grip on her arm. Hood softly said, “Stop worrying. I’m sure whatever it is that’s causing you such distress isn’t as important as you’re making it out to be.”

Marinette jerked back out of surprise. In all her catastrophizing, Marinette hadn’t noticed that the object of all her worry had woken up.

“But it is!” Marinette whined. “Your mask is off and now I know what you look like even though you didn’t want me to and now you’re going to be so angry and we won’t be brother and sister anymore and then you’ll leave me until one day you’ll show up to demand that I leave so I’ll need to pack up everything without even finishing college and一”

“Mmph!” Marinette was cut off when Hood clamped her mouth shut.

“There, have you finally calmed down now?” Hood asked good naturedly.

Because Marinette couldn’t speak with his hand muffling her mouth, she settled for a huff and crossed her arms.

“Right, sorry, I had to make sure you would listen to me.” Said Hood while he released his hand from her mouth. “Now, why would I ever do that to you?

I took off my mask because I’m ready to show you who I really am. You’ll always be my little sister, no matter what. So you don’t need to worry about me being angry with you. The reason I didn’t want to tell you my real identity was because I was scared you wouldn’t accept me.”

Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Hood spoke again. “I know you would but I was still afraid.

Coming back to Gotham only to learn that you’d been kidnapped was one of the scariest things I’ve ever gone through. Breaking into that warehouse and finding your broken and bruised body sprawled all over the floor made me realize just how much you mean to me.

So, I won’t hide who I am anymore because you’re just that important to me.”

Marinette didn’t know what to say so she just asked Hood this, “How did you find me anyway? I thought you were still busy with whatever it was you were doing.”

“I uhh, I finished early because I was excited to come back to you.” Hood mumbled, his face turning scarlet.

“As for your other question, I just want you to know that before I tell you this, I just had your best interests at heart.”

Unsure of what to say, Marinette simply nodded.

“Well, you know the pin I gave you right? I might’ve put a tracker in it that would notify me if you were ever in trouble.” Hood trailed off nervously.

“I’m really sorry! What I did totally violated your trust and you’ll probably never want to speak with me again. But I don’t regret giving you the tracker.” Hood stated firmly.

“If I hadn’t known your location and gotten to you when I did, I’m 100% sure that you would’ve died. So, as much as you may hate me for this, I’m glad that it was able to save your life.”

Now it was Marinette’s turn to comfort Hood. “Hey一 hey. Snap out of it. You just told me to do the same not even a minute ago. It’s okay, I don’t hate you.

Your actions were a bit overboard and they may have crossed a line, but I still love you. Would I have preferred you told me before giving the tracker to me? Yes, but that doesn’t mean you still aren’t my goofy, literature nerd brother. I understand why you did what you did.

And, you’re right, if you hadn’t got there in time, I would be dead. So thank you, no matter how unorthodox your methods were, you still saved my life.

Now, stop worrying about it. I want to get to know who my big brother is under the mask!”

“Right, so, whaddya want to know?”

“Oh, I don’t know, what about your name? It’s not like the only thing I know you by is “Hood”, right?” Marinette drawled in a sarcastic tone.

Hood chuckled. “I hear ya!”

Holding out his hand for Marinette to shake, Hood introduced himself. “Hello, I’m Jason Todd. It’s nice to meet you.”

Marinette shook Hood’s Jason’s hand. Looking back up at him, Marinette thought Jason looked like he was expecting for her to say something.

“Err, nice to meet you too? Um, my name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Jason continued to wait for something, but what? This was making Marinette more confused by the second.

“Uhh, are you expecting me to say something else?” Marinette asked, unsure.

“You mean to say that you don’t recognize my name, or at least my face?”

Marinette winced. “No, should I?”

“It’s fine. It’s just that, you know Bruce Wayne right? He owns Wayne Enterprises and he’s famous for being a playboy.” Marinette nodded.

“And he has two sons, Dick Grayson, his eldest, and more recently, Tim Drake. But what most people don’t know, or care to remember, is that he had a son before Tim Drake, but he died.”

It suddenly dawned on her. “You一 you’re the second son! But how? If you say you died, then how are you alive?”

“Well,” Jason scratched the back of his neck. That movement was just so Adrien, that it made Marinette’s heart pang in sadness. “I don’t really know how either. It was just, one day, I woke up in my grave and the next thing I knew, I was standing before a pool of acidic green water一”

“The Lazarus Pits,” Marinette said breathlessly.

“Wha一 How do you know about them?” Jason asked, but his question went ignored.

She’d heard about them from Plagg and Tikki before. They were the result of a wish made by a man named Ra’s Al Ghul when he combined the Ladybug and Cat miraculi. Marinette had heard all about the after effects of using the Pits and was saddened to know that her brother had been subjected to that.

Throwing herself at Jason, Marinette hugged him tightly. Mumbling on his shoulder, “You don’t need to continue on. I know all about the Pits,” she spat out that word, “so it’s fine.”

Caught off guard, Jason awkwardly patted Marinette’s back.

He groaned, “This is another thing about Paris, isn’t it? You know, after hearing all the freaky shit you went through while living there, I’m actually scared to approach another Parisian other than you.”

Marinette snorted. “Well excuse me, Monsieur-I-Died-But-Came-Back-Again! You’re terrifying too, especially when you’re in your Red Hood get up!”

Jason sputtered, “That一 that’s not the same!”

Pulling back from Jason, Marinette raised a single eyebrow, “Is it?”

He started stuttering out words that Marinette couldn’t make out until she held a finger to his lips. Clasping both his cheeks in her hands, Marinette pulled Jason’s face closer to hers.

“Alright, alright! We’re both equally frightening. And because we’re both on the same level, you don’t need to feel like you need to protect me all the time. You’ve done a lot for me, so let me help you too. I am just as capable of protecting you as you are me!”

Jason cooed at her, “Aww! You do care! I love you too, Pixie-Pop!”

Seeing Marinette’s glare, he added, “How ‘bout this? We both protect each other. That way, we can both be safe.”

Marinette’s glare softened as she pulled Jason in for another hug. Although the height difference left Marinette to be crushed into Jason’s chest, Marinette felt that it was comforting. Nuzzling into Jason’s broad and warm chest, he ran his gentle fingers through her hair.

It was delightful, Jason took special care to not hurt her and whenever his fingers ran into a knot or tangle, he would very carefully untangle it. Marinette loved the sensation of his fingers combing through her hair, of the feeling it provided when his fingernails lightly scratched against her scalp. The way he massaged her hair was so pleasurable that Marinette purred.

“What are you, a cat?” Jason chuckled.

Annoyed, Marinette batted her hand at Jason’s chin and he said, “Well, at least you’re my cat.”

Satisfied with his response, Marinette settled back into Jason’s warmth, happy with the knowledge that she would always be safe in her brother’s arms.

一

@jasonette-july-event

[nagichi-boop]

Ways me & Mae Borowski are similar

Yes, this is a self indulgent post.

TW // Mental illness (including depersonalisation/derealisation)

Also, spoilers.

1. Sense of humour

Mae makes jokes about things like arson and things that typically aren’t funny. She even makes jokes with Gregg about how she wishes he would die in a very gruesome way. And she makes jokes out of her trauma as a coping mechanism (I assume). I also make jokes like this, though I am selective who I make these jokes to. I don’t think a stranger would understand if I told them I kill babies as my side business.

2. College dropouts

Though college is different in the UK than other countries, I was supposed to do 2 years. Most of my time at college was me crying and stressing over my assignments. During summer break, I looked for work to have any excuse to drop out, but I was unsuccessful. But the day before I was supposed to go back to college, I had a nervous breakdown and decided not to go back. Mae dropped out of college because she had struggles with her mental health too, though her reason for dropping out was probably more justified than mine.

3. Body/self-esteem issues

When Mae looks at herself in the mirror, she talks about how she looks round and just generally seems to dislike her appearance. She also feels as though everyone hates her. I definitely struggle with this; feeling as though you’re ugly, feeling like everyone hates you and wants to leave you. Also, when she’s in the car with Bea after getting drunk, she cries and apologises for being a screw up. I often feel like I’m a burden to those around me, spreading misery where I go, even though sometimes I do something because I am trying to take care of my mental health.

4. Child in an adult’s body

Speaking of the conversation with Bea, she talks to Mae about how she grew up and became an adult, but Mae stayed a child in terms of maturity. And then later in the game, she realises her friends have responsibilities that mean they can’t just mess around all night. I feel like everyone my age figured out what they were doing, they have friends (or are even married), they are happy. But I am still very immature. I cry over silly things, I obsess over “childish” things, I spend money on plushies, etc. And while (unlike Mae) I have had a job, I never felt like I was mentally equipped for it. It sometimes felt like the staff viewed me as an incompetent child that can’t understand anything. Also, neither of us can drive.

5. “They were just shapes”

Towards the end of the game, it’s revealed that Mae had been experiencing a series of strange events. These have been suggested to be dissociation, or more specifically depersonalisation/derealisation. Mae felt so detached from reality that she says things were just shapes to her. While I haven’t been diagnosed with DPDR and I find it unlikely that I have the disorder, I think I have some of the symptoms. I look in the mirror and don’t recognise/relate to the person looking back. My memories feel like they don’t belong to me or that they were a dream. And people don’t always feel like they’re real, more like they’re robots or NPCs that simply react to situations rather than have emotions and memories.

Mae was fortunate that in her situation, she had Gregg, Bea and Angus there to keep her grounded and look after her. They became a refuge for her, a safe place to go. For me, I don’t really have anyone irl that I can turn to for help. Thankfully I’ve never gotten into a daze and wandered out alone or anything, but I don’t have anyone who knows how deep my struggles go or who is close enough to me to be able to offer a shoulder to cry on sorta thing.

6. Imagination/daydreaming

Since I don’t want to end this on a sad note, let’s talk about Mae’s imagination. She uses it when she plays music and when she is with Angus looking at the stars. I tend to immersive (or maladaptive??) daydream, especially if I’m listening to music. It’s like being able to watch my own anime in my mind, but no one else can see the story playing out in my mind.

xxx

Anyways, this was just a silly little post I wanted to make because I like Mae a lot. Hope it’s not completely boring!

[modern-vellichor]

In Her Blood; One

Pairing: Dads Best Friend!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 24 ish, bucky is like 100 yk), daddy issues, uncomfortable home life, mentions of abortion/unwanted pregnancy, implied smut, steve being a shitty dad, smoking.

Bucky stood, leaning against the kitchen island in his best friends house. Steve is standing opposite him, Sam sitting at the kitchen table, their daughter, Sarah, next to him.

He hears the door open and close, the sound of wheels on hardwood floor. Then he hears a voice, sweet and song like, calling out

"hello?"

Sarah's face lights up, she jumps from her chair and just as another girl appears in the door, she leaps into her arms. The other girl chuckles, throwing her arms around Sarah and cooing. "Hey, chicken, I missed you"

The girl dislodges herself from Sarah, smile plastered on her face, beaming. She wraps an arm loosely around Sam's shoulder, "Hiya, dad", she places a soft kiss on his head.

She simply nods at Steve, a look almost chastising him was thrown. "Steven".

And then she turns to Bucky, and sticks out a hand. Her tone changes to something familiar and sweet.

"And you must be Bucky", he takes her hand, "I'm Y/N"

Bucky is confused, he doesn't remember Steve ever talking about a Y/N in his life. Apparently his confusion was evident, because she bursts into offended laughter, scoffing at Steve.

"Oh, he didn't tell you about me? that's rich", she stated, rolling her eyes. She turned her attention back to Bucky.

"Hi, I'm their eldest daughter", Bucky couldn't hide his surprise.

Steve never told him he had two daughters, he only ever spoke about Sarah. Sarah who aced her SATS, Sarah who started law school in September, Sarah who was his proud and joy. And now here was this new girl, who couldn't have been older than 25, standing tall and stoic before him.

Sarah and Sam observed the scene from the table, they watched with a sadness in their eyes.

Instead of questioning further, he simply introduced himself, smiling at the girl and shaking her hand. Doing anything to diffuse the suffocating tension.

"Yeah, I'm Bucky. It's nice to meet you"

"You too, you live close?"

"just down the road, what about you?"

"Art school in Paris, home for the summer"

She had a twinkle in her eyes as soon as she mentioned Paris, Bucky's smile grew wider, as did hers.

"Paris?"

"Paris", she nodded, excited.

"That must be nice"

"Its beautiful, much nicer than this shithole. Its heaven on earth over there" They spoke as Sam dragged Steve out of the kitchen into the hall, and as Sarah disappeared to her bedroom.

Sam pulled Steve out by the arm, dragging him away from the kitchen, away from Y/N.

"what the hell, Steve? you don't even talk about her? Shes your daughter!", he whispered as loudly as he could, scalding his partner.

Steve sighed, running a hand over her face. "She doesn't want anything to do with me"

"That's your fault, you gave up on her before her life had even started. You told her you didn't want her. Did you even know she was coming home? Did you care enough to remember?"

"I remember her telling Sarah something about it, Sarah passed on the message, wasn't paying attention"

"Christ's Sake, Steve"

-

Sarah ran to her room. Away from the looks her father gave her sister, away from the tension, away from her dad's tears, away from the memories flooding back to her.

She hated Steve for ruining Y/N the way he did, and he hated him even more for never apologising. She doesn't blame Y/N for running away to Paris either, she seems happier there.

She still loves her father though, that would never change.

Bucky sat with Sam at the table, beer in hand. Steve had long retired to bed, the two girls were giggling in Sarah's bedroom. The two men were silent, and in Buck's need for conversation, he let his curiosity get the better of him.

"What's the deal with Y/N?"

Sam paused, for a second and then sighed.

"She's Steve's bio daughter, had her with some woman a few years back, before we got together, before Sarah. When Sarah came around their relationship went to shit, Steve didn't like it. She ran away to Paris for school, stopped talking to Steve, dont blame her"

"sounds tough. How old was she when she left?"

"22, poor Sarah was only 16, broke her heart to see Y/N leave"

Bucky was used to being around all the time, but now summer had rolled around, he was here all the time.

practically living in their house. Sarah was used to his presence, but Y/N was wary. She rarely spoke, especially when Steve was around. She grasped at any chance to get out of the house, or to lock herself in her room.

It was either 'bonding time with her sister', or 'making up for lost time', and if not that it was 'school work', or 'extra curriculars'.

Bucky woke in a sweat, he had slept in the guest bedroom. Nightmares followed him though. He silently made his way down the stairs, padding softly on the carpet. The backdoor was ajar slightly, the familiar smell of smoke wafting through the crack.

He pushed it open to find you, blanketwrapped around your shoulders, cheeks wet from old cheeks, a cigarette smouldering between dainty fingers.

He said nothing as he sat next to you, mimicking your position, crossing his legs. He brought the cigarette to his lips, taking in a long drag, before handing it back to you. You laughed, "I didn't think you smoked"

You brought the smoke to your lips, tasting him on the butt, infused in the filter.

"I used to, back in the war"

"everyone smoked back in the war" Bucky nodded along, smiling with you. You rested your head on his shoulder, he smelled familiar and soft.

"What's the deal with you and your dad"

In a moment of exhaustion fueled vulnerability, you didnt think about your answer, instead just spewing out the truth.

"I dont think he actually wanted me, I think he just couldn't let my mom get an abortion"

You sat together, in silence for a while, before you sat up, and turned your body to face him. You studied him. You traced his statuesque features, steely eyes, plump lips, your eyes played at his carved abdomen, dancing over his arms, one shining in early morning light.

He studied you in turn, tired and sad eyes, smoke spilling softly over perfect lips. Beautiful body curling in on itself in the cold.

You leaned forward, lost in your subconscious, desperate for a close look, you wanted to see the cracks and pores and scars littering his tan skin. "why are you awake?", you whispered.

"nightmare"

Your eyes fell to your legs as you giggled softly, "so that makes two of us"

"well maybe I can make you feel better"He gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to his. It was strangely intimate, that's what hurt the most. He pressed his lips to yours. You returned the kiss of course. Desperate and vulnerable, your arms snaked around his neck, his hands pawing at your hips and thighs.

This was wrong, you knew it was. You had already decided that this was a bad idea, you didn't care. Not with his fingers playing at the hem of your shirt, or carded in your hair, tugging lightly to pull the sweetest of moans from the depths of your chest.

Oh, you'd regret this later. But now, you were lost in the feeling of his lips on your neck, and his hands down your shorts. The soft silk of your bed sheets were a welcome contrast to hard metal and hot flesh. A welcomed distraction from the pure filth he whispered against your skin, leaving colourful bruises in his wake.

"please", you mewled over and over as he chuckled darkly. You knew this was wrong, but those thoughts weren't at the forefront of your mind as cool fingers expertly invaded your body and his tongue was licking hot stripes up your bare thighs.

Then, as you were slowly coming down from a lust drunk state of mind, he had the guts to pull you close against his chest. You knew who Bucky Barnes was. You knew he was best friends with Steve and Sam. You knew his past, you knew his present. Here you were, curled against him like he cared.

You weren't stupid. You knew he had objectified you to gods end. You knew that he thought you were less of Steve's daughter than Sarah. He had completely dissociated you from Steve and Sam, Sarah too.

So you waited, until his breathing had slowed and his heart rate was near nonexistent. And you pulled him off of you, and you sat yourself up, swinging your legs onto your carpeted floor. Back bone straight. He didn't care so much now, he definetly didnt act it-

He moved, rolling towards you, snaking his arms around your waist and humming.

"hey"

You froze.

"hey", you stared down at the man in your bed, strands of dark hair framing his herculean face. Blue eyes boring into yours.

"I'm sorry"

"for what?"

"about you and Steve, it must be tough"

You pulled the hair tie from his hair, snapping it around your wrist, running slender fingers through knotted locks.

"don't you worry about it"

"I suppose i'll see you to it, then", he untangled himself from you and picked his belongings up from the floor, pulling his clothes back on.

"see you around, soldier", you smiled.

He stopped in your doorway, throwing a smile back at you. "you too, kotenok"

[trashbinbackyard]

jack/mirad & kai/helvi

I woke up at 8 and went like eeeh i can sleep another half an hour and them boom, 1pm

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Mirad has grown past his most reckless tendencies, Jack however hasn't, but he's more at danger to himself than to others

Kai is very careful when he's out hunting and he's never alone. Helvi however has a habit of going into the woods alone

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

I don't feel like either?

If they had phones it'd be Helvi

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love

Mirad spoils Jack, lets be real, it doesn't turn into a competition bc it's in moderation, and mostly Mirad treating Jack to some of his skincare products

Kai miiiiight spoil Helvi juuuuust a bit, he doesn't mind getting up way earlier to fix her breakfast and help her tie her hair and acquiring many fur blankets

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

A few years for sure, when they both were sure about it. Probably talked about it too before Mirad proposed

Few years, if wasn't for Kai's role in the village they would've gotten married later, as neither really saw marriage as That important and just something they one day would like to do.

6. What was their wedding like

Small, just closest family and couple friends, nothing extravagant for the middle aged men

Whole day event basically with everyone from the village and surrounding area invited (against Kai's best wishes), Weddings, and especially high profile weddings like that are few and far between and they're quite the event. Small ceremony but then a huge feast with dancing singing and general revelry

7. Is their friends/family supportive

Ellen is very happy for them both, Mirad's parents were wary but approve later on, Marda is still sus about Jack

Very much so, Kory pretty much pushed them to get married already, Kat when she finds out is very happy for them both. Helvi's parents are so proud and treat Kai like close family

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Mirad talks to Jack gently, checks if he hasn't hurt himself, bring him a snack and drink. When Mirad's distressed Jack will ask if he can do anything and keep him company if he lets him

If Kai's in distress he tends to shut down and all Helvi can really do is keep him company and hold him. If Helvi's upset Kai will call a timeout and just go somewhere with her where she can calm down and talk things through

9. Which one dissociates

Jack mostly

-

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like "damn" and how does the other react when catching them

Both. Mirad would be more cheeky (hehe) in his reaction while Jack is like "my booty?? :0"

Helvi. Kai blushes

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

Both had their separate places, where Mirad's was very neat and organized and Jack's was a whole mess. Jack would still keep his place as a workshop while he pretty much now lives with Mirad, where he learns to respect the house rules

They share a two-story chief's house with Kory and a garm, they have the whole lower level to themselves pretty much, and it's quite big, it's very cozy and bit cabin'y even if it's larger

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Jack's a sad drunk, first thing Mirad knew about him tbh. Mirad doesn't drink if I remember correct

Neither of them want to get Drunk drunk, just tipsy. Kai loosens up and gets chattier. Helvi gets giggly and cuddly

14. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give kiss them

Beware the morning breath. Mirad wakes up before Jack

Kai doesn't wake Helvi up when he leaves the bed to go prepare breakfast, but when that's done he will kiss her goodmorning

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Jack likes welding for fun too, he's made some little "art" pieces for Mirad with textures he knows he likes, and Mirad appreciates it. Mirad's big into working out and Jack will be out of breath in two minutes if he joins but it's a pleasant experience

Helvi loves making potions and instruments and while Kai knows little about either he's up for helping her if she asks, she also sings. I know this seems kinda random bc I just know thought of it, but Kai's into drawing with charcoals, it would be fitting for his "quiet kid with not many friends" character (it hits a little too close home lmao)

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

That's very much up Jack's alley

If they had phones, Helvi

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other

Not kinkshame, more like kink-concern on Mirad's part like "Jack, honey, WHY do you wanna be choked that hard"

Neither of them have really out there kinks, though Helvi would be up to do it in the woods. Just have to be extra careful they're far enough from any civilization

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Jack, he's pudgy and wrinkly. Mirad doesn't mind it one bit and calling Jack a sexy beast on the regular makes Jack happy and less ashamed of his body

Helvi used to, before trans-your-gender spell hit, (and bc she basically got to decide what her body would look like of course she has no regrets) Kai is very body-neutral about himself, yeah that's a body, nothing special but ain't nothing wrong with it either

21. What is their song? Like the song that gives them overwhelming feelings?

Well I have listed Silent storm for them once and you know what, I stand by it

From Heilung Traust and Krigsgaldr (first half of it anyway), both were big inspirations for Helvi's character in general and Maria Franz is her voiceclaim too lol (also the guy on krigsgaldr second verse for Kai's voiceclaim (before 4.40 mark))

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Jack is a recovering addict, also depressed, and alcoholic (recovering when they get together). Mirad is also an ex-addict and while he's much further into his recovery he's not immune to the shitty stuff that still might happen, they're each other's peer support

Helvi used to have bad dysphoria

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Head, forehead for Jack (and lips of course) he's not that big into getting kisses on his body. Mirad is sensitive everwhere but IIRC neck and sides are big

Helvi's wrists and neck just below her ears. Kai's throat and forehead

30. Do they dance together

Mirad poledances, Jack enjoys the view

At their wedding sure, both lil tipsy and letting loose, both lost their flower crowns that evening

31. Do they sing together

More like hum if they feel like it

Helvi's the one signing, Kai might join in on a verse or two

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe

Pretty safe with the occasional reckless on Jack's part

Safe

35. What be their kinks and do they try each other's kinks

Love and Care, and choking

They're pretty vanilla

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?

Arguments sure about Jack's self-destructive behaviors sometimes but the rule is never go to sleep angry so they both reflect on it with compassion

Not really, at least before The Incident, apologize and kiss and make up

38. Which one's top, bottom, verse

Mirad's a top, Jack is a pillow princess vers

Kai's top, Helvi's bottom

39. What kinda sex they be having (gentle rough whatever)

Whatever they're in the mood for, some tender lovin'? Sure! Get hot and heavy? With moderation. Break into laughter in the middle of it? Silly is also a mood!

It starts off as hot and heavy but calms down to more gentle

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

Jack would just hit them with the "don't be meeeaaan 🥺🥺" Mirad I feel like would go the verbal route as well but more stern

It's common knowledge to Not insult the village shaman (the one who has illness remedies and the one who blesses you before you travel), and you DONT insult the the chief's kid/chief. They're both capable of defending themselves but Kai will step in if he happens to hear

44. Do they want kids

Nah, who needs kids when you got nieces

Yeah, and I've finally made up my mind, they're gonna adopt a bunch (and bc you dropped out of the campaign I can tell you how: a village not that near but not that far gets attacked by a power hungry druid and leaves bunch of kids without parents and the party will escort them back to Kai's village, before they go after the druid)

[transsergio]

Emotions That I Simply Do Not Have (Read on AO3)

Chapter 1/3 - More Like A Relapse

Penemily + Hotchreid / Mature / 1893 words

Hotch and Emily have a drunken night together that Emily wants to forget, but Hotch can't let go. She and her girlfriend Penelope make a plan to get him out of their lives.

There's a brief paragraph describing Emily's dissociation in this chapter.

This started out as a parody of H*tchniss but then I got really into it. Hotch is pretty out of character and I'm picking on him this entire fic. There is no actual Hotchn*ss involved, which is why I didn't tag the ship, and because I don't need to fight with straight people today.

Emily’s head loathes her. She’s been hungover before, obviously, but this is something different altogether – she’s half-naked and her memory has completed ghosted her. There was tequila, she guesses, maybe vodka, shots, Hotch was going to give her a ride home because there’s something dangerous about a wasted agent wandering the city at night; snippets that don’t explain much beyond the ache hammering at the center of her skull.

At least Emily knows where she is. This is her apartment, her bedroom, her matted skin and grimy oils. The sheets reek of alcohol, so maybe she spilled some, or maybe it’s been sweat from her very pores. She’s missing a bra and she forgot to close the blinds last night. Only, she never forgets. It’s muscle memory. Did she…open them at some point?

The sink is running in the kitchen. And her toaster oven is beeping. Oh my god. She brought someone home last night. Hotch never would have left her in a cab with a stranger. How could Emily have picked someone up between the curb and her front door? She was a flirty drunk, but in no way smooth.

Emily moves on a slow incline, craning her body into an upright position. She winces. Sunlight beams directly into her eyes. It’s been a minute since she remembered exactly why she kept the windows covered. She pushes the duvet aside and swings her long, bare legs to the floor. They’re not bruised (yet), so she must’ve remembered to skip the stairs and go for the elevator this time. She’s tumbled down them before. Penelope made her promise she’d wear shin guards the next time she went out, Emily remembers, laughing under her breath.

Penelope, who definitely did not go home with Emily last night. She couldn’t have. She implemented a strict curfew after spending three consecutive nights in the batcave – bed by eleven, sharp. Unless Emily made a distress call sometime in the night. Emily scrunches the sheets between her fingers. A distress call, something like, “Come help me puke into my toilet for an hour and a half,” would bring Penelope running. Well, not running, but speed-walking, half awake. And it would be too late for Penelope to get home, with no one to text that she made it safely (except everyone else in the BAU, but that wasn’t the point). The point was, it could be her in there, popping Toaster Strudel in for the both of them.

Emily wobbles to her feet and kicks her crumpled slacks from her path. Oh, there’s her bra, launched to the other side of the room. She runs her fingers through her hair and hopes she made a difference, though it’s unlikely. Feet shuffle over her wooden floors, and someone opens and shuts the fridge door. Penelope uses fridges, coincidentally. That very well might be her.

There’s a cough, a low clearing of the throat. Emily stands upright like she’s been called to duty, and palms her forehead. Her headache makes it clear it did not like that. The cough does not sound like Penelope. Fear drains the strength from Emily’s limbs. Please, dear god, tell her that’s not a man.

Emily wants to crawl back into bed and have nothing to do with whoever’s in the other room. She wants to huddle under her covers and listen until the front door opens and shuts and it’s safe to emerge. She wants to have been sober last night. Instead, her phone vibrates on her dresser. Emily hadn’t realized that when it reverberates against the wood, her cell sounds exactly like a jackhammer, but she does now. She hears the same sound echoing in her kitchen.

Emily lunges for the text, from Garcia alerting them to a case, and slams all one hundred of those tiny Blackberry buttons to make it shut up, shut up, shut up. The bedroom door swings open.

“Two murders in Kentucky, looks like,” Hotch says. What? No.

Emily rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands. They come away streaked with dried mascara flakes and last night’s eyeshadow, but Hotch is still there. He’s standing in his boxers, a white undershirt, and five o’clock stubble. He doesn’t flinch at the fact that Emily is bare-chested in a pair of black boyshorts. This is bad. This is so bad.

Hotch says softly, “Can I…” Can he what? Can he call later tonight? Can he leave a toothbrush here? Can he have a drawer for his pajamas? “Can I get my shirt, please?”

“Oh.” Emily steps aside. His blue button-down is in a wrinkled pile beside Emily’s nightstand. Should she cover herself in the meantime? Would that make it weirder? He’s already seen what he’s seen, after all. The thought makes Emily gag.

“I’m going to get ready in your bathroom,” Hotch tells her. He makes too much eye contact. “There’s toast in the kitchen for you, if you want any.”

“Great, thanks.” Emily is tightlipped and dedicated to looking anywhere but his face. That leads to his boxers, and his dick inside his boxers, and the knowledge that they clearly had sex, and Emily might need the bathroom first if she didn’t vomit everything out last night.

Hotch disappears, and so does Emily’s presence in her physical body. She autopilots herself into her clean clothes, grips her dresser and stares into the mirror above it. C’mon, Emily, come back down to Earth. She tries what her therapist taught her in high school, focusing on a texture, on the feel of the woodgrain under her hands. How could she have come so far, a continent away, and still need the same techniques for the same problems? Hotch was an exercise in self-loathing and misery. Only this time, that exercise would be staring her down for extended periods of time while they mutually hunted killers.

Hotch reenters in the same suit he wore last night. Did he seriously have to wear a suit to the team’s night out? He couldn’t loosen up enough for a polo shirt and golf pants?

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to see me again in this capacity,” he starts. “But I had… a great time, honestly, and I’d be open to another meeting.”

Emily’s eyes are dead. “No, thanks.”

“You’ve decided already?”

“Yep. I’m good. See you on the jet.” Emily yanks the bedroom door open. His cue to leave. He takes it, if not wearing the look of a kicked puppy.

He makes it into a cab, and the cab leaves, and clears her block, and turns the corner. Emily stays for another five minutes just to be sure the car doesn’t loop back around, looking for a second chance. She washes her face clean and falls to her mattress. This will only take a second – she stabs her face into her pillow and screams. And one more time. And maybe a long one, just to be sure. Emily comes to work that day hoarse, unbathed, and willing herself into another life.

*

A month later, they’re gathered at Haley’s funeral. Hotch gives a beautiful speech, and Emily’s all but forgotten the number of texts she’s received since their hookup. The sheer volume of “Thinking about you.. do you like Thai food?” and simple, two-word messages like “Good work..”, alongside “Hey. Horny?” are a thing of the past, at least for today. Maybe not tomorrow. Emily doesn’t really know how grieving works. She does, however, know what it feels like to want.

She ushers Penelope into a storage closet while the rest of the team (plus Kevin) is at the funeral reception’s buffet. They’ll make up some story about going to the bathroom and try to defuse JJ later, assuring her that she wasn't left out intentionally. Right now, life is for living.

Emily’s lips move across Penelope’s jaw, her neck, her chest. She presses them to Penelope’s like she’s made of china, set on keeping Penelope’s lipstick intact. Penelope grips Emily while her own wrist is between her teeth to stifle her sound. Emily is gasping for breath when her fingers reach for the button of Penelope’s sweater. She is desperate to have her undone.

“Wait, wait,” Penelope huffs, putting an arm’s length of space between them. Her chest is heaving. “I can’t do this here, not today.”

“Today is why I want to do this,” Emily counters.

“We have time.” Penelope’s voice breaks. She fusses with her little hat and rights it atop her hair. “We have time that Haley didn’t –”

“How do we know?” Emily interrupts. “It could be me next. You’ve already been shot once before, and I just can’t… I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with you on the fringe of my life.”

Emily wipes a tear streaking down Penelope’s cheek. Before Penelope can reach for her compact, Emily passes her hers. She says, “I don’t mean we have to do anything right now in… what is ironically a closet,” Penelope laughs and dabs at her makeup, “but I want you. And seeing you with Kevin today, having to be next to you while he holds your hand? It’s maddening.”

A quiet passes. Penelope sniffles and the crowd outside makes somber conversation. Penelope whispers, “I’m scared.”

Emily closes the distance between them and cradles Penelope in her embrace. “I know; so am I. Can we be scared together?”

Penelope nods into the crook of Emily’s shoulder. They sway in the warmth of one another, in the cramped haven that is shelves of industrial cleaner and mop buckets.

“So what do we do?” Penelope asks. “Should I break up with Kevin, or tell him the truth? Neither option feels, uh, super-duper.”

Emily snorts some of the hat’s feathers from her nose. “If you want to be outed, I think telling Kevin he’s your beard is a great idea.”

“Stop. Kevin wouldn’t do that.”

“Penelope. He’s a man. He’s going to feel used, emasculated, and plenty bitter. I don’t see a reality in which he doesn’t out you.”

“I know, I know, but I don’t think Kevin’s like that. He’s sweet on me.” Penelope further buries herself in Emily. “On the off-chance that he would, though, I guess I’ll dump him.”

Emily hums in agreement. They keep themselves safe in their darkness a little longer, resistant to go out and face the mourning. Emily’s heart is busy fluttering, anyway. She and Penelope might remain a secret, but this is officially more than a hook-up. It’s all Emily could dream of when she stormed Penelope’s batcave the morning after Hotch. When she spun Penelope around in her desk chair and strung their mouths centimeters apart – a question and a dare all in one. Penelope leaned through the divide and they were kissing, slow and tender but driven by a force that urged them on. Emily had wanted Penelope for so long, but that morning, she needed her.

When they return to the team’s table, Kevin is at Penelope’s side. Emily puts her focus on Morgan, on caring about Hotch’s well-being, anything but Kevin’s soft, drooping face. It’s like his skin could slide right off at any second. No, Emily will ask what they can do, will let the team explain that their power extends to waiting Hotch out, will squeeze Penelope’s hand as they leave for their next case in Nashville.

[indecisivedolly]

Silent Words - Chapter 4

Word count: 1418

Warnings: cursing, angst and fighting, a little more fluff (i’m starting to go soft on y’all)

A/N: lmfao y’all 💀 I apologize okay, I don’t have anything to say for myself. I promise better times, better chapters and more frequent updates for the future 😳

Upon arriving at the safehouse, Y/N got out of the car before Bucky could park. She felt so relieved by fulfilling her father’s first wish that the young woman felt happy, so happy she could cook. In the meanwhile, Bucky was slightly startled seeing Y/N in such a chipper mood. The last time he checked, she had the blood of a man on her hands; literally. Even he always felt some sort of dreadfulness after killing the evilest people, and he’s killed a lot of people. After parking the car, he entered the house and heard the clinking of pots and pans and a hummed melody. He gulped, something must be seriously wrong. Is this her way of dissociating from what she just did?

“Y/N....” He said hesitantly. She hummed and turned around, looking at him expectantly.

He took in her appearance before he spoke.

“What- what are you doing?” Bucky stammered.

“Well, since I’ve had such a productive day, I figured I’d cook a nice dinner to celebrate the day!” Still as chipper as in the car.

He blinked, unable to say anything.

Her chipper attitude slowly turned into confusion, then into annoyance. “Are you gonna keep looking at me like you’ve peed your pants or are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” She huffed.

“You’re... Covered in blood.” He said quietly, looking at her once crisp white shirt.

Her eyebrows shot up while her hand grabbed the nearest pan lid to look at herself. “Oh... Oh.” She slowly put down the lid and left the kitchen.

Bucky turned his body to watch her go. He hesitated to check up on her, but since he didn’t want any more scolding from her, he decided to finish making dinner instead.

Thirty minutes later, Y/N joined Bucky in the kitchen. Even though he wasn’t facing her, he knew that she was holding that envelope. She started reading.

My second wish is that you give Jackson Frazier my cigars. He used to love clipping cigars and smoking them, give him my 5x39 bundles.

“This is a 39 gun, if you shoot someone five times you get 5x39.” Dad shot me a knowing look, pay attention. “Like the cigars! You clip the head off and smoke ‘em. I would murder for one of those right now.” She nodded four times.

Bucky looked at her after she was quiet too long. She’s all up in her thoughts again, he thought. He patiently waited for her to snap out of it while scooping the food onto the plates.

“He wants me to take out Jackson Frazier too. He owed my dad big money but never paid him. A 5x39 means shooting someone five times with a 39 gun.” She said.

He nodded. He placed the plates, forks and cups on the table and got a bottle of wine. Even though he couldn’t get drunk, he liked the taste of it.

Bucky and Y/N sat across each other and quietly ate dinner.

“Have you ever killed someone.. before today?”

She was about to have another bite from the heavenly dinner when Bucky’s timid voice broke the silence. He’s a good cook, but he can’t stop talking at the most inappropriate times to save his life. “Yes.” The fork quickly entered her mouth before he could ask another question.

“Do you feel okay though?” He said, voice more secure.

Her fork clinked against her plate and a loud sigh screeched the air. The woman opposite Bucky looked up to the sky and folded her hands together. “Dear God, even though I’m not really religious, please for the love of God -that would be you- make him shut the fuck up. Sorry for cursing.” The last part she added quickly. Then, her fork picked up its journey back to her mouth.

“Do you constantly have to be this stingy? I’m just trying to have a conversation with you and that won’t really work if you keep acting like this all the time.” Bucky said, tired of her attitude.

Y/N stared at him. “Do you seriously think you have the right to call me out on my behavior?” Silence. “No really, do you?” The chair fell back because of her standing so abruptly.

Her anger started to build up. “Because I think I’m the one who should do that. You left me waiting for you, you promised me you’d come back and went on to crush my fucking hope as if I had plenty of it laying around. Do you enjoy hurting people? Is that it?”

There it was, he thought.

She took a step towards Bucky.

“No, Y/N.” His voice laced with pain, still sitting down while his eyes are glued to the table.

She started shouting; “Did you sleep better, knowing that there was someone out there waiting for you and slowly losing hope? Not knowing whether they should move on or keep waiting?”

Bucky’s body went rigid, she couldn’t say that. His emotions were trying to escape from his body, but they were unable to do so. “You- you can’t say that. You know you can’t say that.” His voice cracked while he clenched his fists. Even though her face was inches from his, he didn’t dare to look at her.

“No, after all those years of leaving me in the fucking dark, I think I have the right to call you out on your shit. Do you know what my father used to do with people who break their promises? Do you know what he usually did with dishonest people? Two bullets in the mouth and two in the heart. Two in the mouth so that they can never use their tongue for dishonesty again.” Gasps to compensate for the lack of air running through her lungs, their faces were closer to each other than realized. “And two to the heart to feel the heartbreak they have caused.” She walked away from him to the living room.

Bucky snapped. He shot up, followed her and roughly grabbed Y/N by her upper arm with his right hand, not trusting his metal one. “Have you got any fucking idea what I have been through? And I don’t even mean my whole life, I mean after I lost you in Bucharest. I found my friend, I lost myself and then him again. How on earth could I face you, knowing that I’m broken and could hurt you?” Bucky’s loud voice echoed.

Y/N finally looked into his eyes and was startled to see those deep blue eyes filled with sadness.

“I tried to fix myself and as I finally started making progress, they pulled me into another fight. I didn’t want to fight anymore, Y/N. I really didn’t. I wanted peace. But I still fought. I fought for my friend only for him to leave me again. I’ve been God knows where for 5 fucking years, dead maybe? I don’t fucking know. So I’m sorry for not coming back to you any sooner and I’m sorry for making you feel like I broke my promise. I was working on myself to be better for you.” Panting, Bucky let go of her arm and sat down on the couch to recover from his outburst. “Everything I did at the time, every choice I made, I did it all for you.” Bucky said softly, his body now slouched forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

Y/N couldn’t look at him, but the sound of Bucky getting up and leaving rang loudly through her mind long after he left. She decided to sit down on the couch. Suddenly, all those feelings that have been pushed away throughout the years hit like a wave and she choked out a sob. How could I be so selfish? How could I only think about how I felt without thinking about his feelings? She let out a loud and unexpected sob without even realizing it. Shocked, her hand rushed to her mouth to try and stop herself. I don’t really want to crop up my feelings anymore, she thought. And out they went, until her headache and dry mouth replaced themselves with sleep. After an unknown amount of time, Y/N felt someone lift her from the couch and placed onto a much softer surface. Sleep and consciousness took their turns on her. Before she fully emerged into sleep, a sweet whisper filled her ears;

“I would’ve found you and come back to you, I always come back to you.”

Taglist:

@saiyanprincessswanie @disasterbii @zaynzierulez @kingbuckyx @ms-marisz

[chibistarlyte]

Below the cut is a master list of all the fics I’ve written for Boku no Hero Academia, organized by ship and in order of oldest to newest, all in one convenient spot. Keep checking the original post for more fics as I write and publish them!

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tododeku fics

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spit the ashes from my mouth rating: g trigger warning(s): childhood trauma, mild blood

He’d thought he’d gotten over it. That he’d moved on, healed, accepted what his mother did to him. What his father caused his mother to do to him.

But trauma has a way of creeping back up on you when you least expect it, rearing its ugly head and trying to drag you back underwater when you feel like you’d finally breached the surface for air.

Shouto is determined not to let it.

these hands could hold the world rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Izuku looked between their joined hands and Todoroki, and even though Izuku was on the bed and Todoroki was on the floor, neither of them speaking, with only their hands touching, this singular moment felt so...intimate that Izuku couldn’t wrap his head around it.

the sound of your name on my lips rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Shouto barely knew how to be someone's friend, let alone someone's boyfriend. 

leave a beautiful scar rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Even with this blotch of marred skin, Shouto was still beautiful. Or, perhaps, because of it.

It was a sign he had survived the damage dealt to him.

rattle my bones like an earthquake to glass rating: t trigger warning(s): panic attacks, mild blood and injury

Izuku returns home to find Shouto in the aftermath of a panic attack.

keep holding on rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Izuku didn’t have to worry about trying to hold on with his shaking hands, because Shouto was holding onto him enough for the both of them.

catching kisses rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Izuku is just trying to bandage Shouto up, but Shouto keeps stealing kisses from him.

you’re like coming home rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Five times Shouto steals Izuku's hoodie, and the one time Izuku gives it to him.

Behind the Camera Lens rating: t trigger warning(s): childhood trauma/abuse

Izuku and Shouto are two Youtubers who have been subscribed to each other for ages, but have never actually spoken. That is, until Izuku reaches a million subscribers and Shouto leaves a kind comment on his announcement video. A fast friendship forms from there, and more.

Izuku's crush from afar turns into something much deeper, and Shouto learns how to let love in.

**this fic also has a KiriBaku spinoff fic written by my friend Kat @sunshineijirou:

One New Notification rating: t trigger warning(s): none

Eijirou was nervous as he looked around at the crowd outside the convention center. Ochako, his friend and fellow fitness YouTuber had surprised him with two passes to a convention specifically for fellow streamers and vloggers. She usually went with her girlfriend, Tsuyu, but the large crowds weren’t really her thing. This year she had insisted that Ochako go with someone who really wanted to go. Eijirou had excitedly accepted.

keep it safe rating: t trigger warning(s): mild blood, mild gore, references to child abuse, scars

It's been many years since Shouto carried his heart with him.

After his mother tried to destroy his unsightly half, she had been sent away. Shouto's heart hurt so much, a near-constant burning in his chest that threatened to sear his lungs, the bones of his ribs, the veins and arteries that pumped blood through the vessel…

Well. One day, he decided he didn't want it anymore. So he took it out.

Date the Stars rating: t trigger warning(s): nightmares, repressed memories, trauma

“Shouto?”

“I do not understand…” Shouto said quietly enough that Izuku had to strain to hear him. “Why are these images in my mind? Their presence is illogical.”

“Well, the brain isn’t always logical, despite what Vulcans may have you believe,” Izuku snorted at his own joke, not surprised to find no reaction to it from Shouto.

“Becoming human is exhausting,” Shouto said, sounding completely and thoroughly exasperated, much of the monotony from his voice gone for just that small admission.

Izuku smiled. Small steps, right?

.

A fic in which Izuku finds an abandoned Borg drone named Shouto and helps him regain his humanity...and maybe falls in love along the way.

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multiship fics

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D(ouble)D(ate)R rating: t trigger warning(s): canon-typical violence co-author: @sunshineijirou​

Kirishima invites Midoriya and Todoroki on a double date with him and Bakugou with the hopes of helping to ease the tensions between his boyfriend and the other couple.            

Be The Very Best (Like No Hero Ever Was) rating: t trigger warning(s): to be added

Midoriya Izuku learns that, without a Quirk and with his Pokémon partner by his side, he can become a hero.            

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kiribaku fics

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A Little Mischief rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Bakugou brings a cat in from the rain and has no idea what to do.

face the blame rating: g trigger warning(s): mild injury

Bakugou accidentally hurts Kirishima while Quirk training.

let me love you (without having to say it) rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Kirishima is sick and Bakugou wants to take care of him.

another story rating: t trigger warning(s): mild injury and mild blood

Eijirou did a one-shoulder shrug, careful not to move any other part of his body lest he open up his injury yet again. “It’s not like I don’t have scars all over the damn place,” he said, holding out one of his arms to make his point. Whitened scars littered his tanned skin, some in jagged lines, others in perfectly smooth cuts across his muscled arms. “Besides, it’s just another cool story to tell, y’know?”

--

todobaku fics

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seventh time’s the charm rating: t trigger warning(s): mild injury and blood

Six times Shouto asks Katsuki to marry him, and the one time Katsuki finally says yes.

some days rating: t trigger warning(s): suicidal thoughts/ideation, dissociation, childhood trauma, depression, unintentional self-harm

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

one day rating: t trigger warning(s): references to depression and suicidal thoughts/ideation

He's okay, Katsuki has to remind himself again, almost afraid that Todoroki might slip right through his calloused fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

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follow-up to ‘some days’

the day after rating: t trigger warning(s): references to depression, negative self-talk

The tears come unbidden, and Shouto drops his phone in his lap to press the heels of his hands against his eyes. He can already feel frost creeping over his cheek, his tears cooling and hardening as they pass down his skin and over the frozen patches shining translucent white in the daylight.

So many people care for him...and he has no idea why.

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part 3 in the 'days' series

tomorrow is another day rating: t trigger warning(s): references to depression, negative self-talk, references to suicidal thoughts and dissociation

“I think you should see someone, Shouto. A professional. They can help you,” Rei says, and Shouto can hear the quiet confidence in her words. Words spoken from experience. Who would know about this kind of thing better than her, after all?

Shouto nods wordlessly, pulling back and finally looking at his mother. She smiles softly down at him, and tucks some of his disheveled hair away from his face. “Is it scary?” he asks, already feeling the trepidation at the possibility of sharing his innermost thoughts and feelings with a complete stranger.

Rei nods slowly, her smile fading somewhat. “Yes. It can be scary, at first. And painful. Your emotions will be all over the place for a while. But…” she pauses, placing both her hands on Shouto’s cheeks to make sure she has his full attention. “Talking about this, working through it with someone who is trained to help people like you and me...it’s an important step to take so you can heal.”

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part 4 in the ‘days’ series

a new day (to face your fears) rating: t trigger warning(s): mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts

The halls are emptier than usual for the end of the school day, which makes the journey to the teachers’ office all the more daunting to Shouto. At least if there were white noise around him, his thoughts wouldn’t bounce around so loudly in his skull and echo back at him tenfold.

Next to him, Shouto hears Bakugou take in a breath as if he wants to say something. Shouto holds his own breath, waiting for the other boy to speak.

But no words come, and Shouto exhales, feeling almost...disappointed.

everything the light touches rating: g trigger warning(s): none

"This," Shouto said, sliding the ring onto Katsuki's ring finger, "is my promise to you, Katsuki. My promise that, when I free this land from my father's tyranny and find a suitable ruler to take his place, I will go with you." Like the prince he was, Shouto lifted Katsuki's hand and placed a polite, delicate kiss to his knuckles. Katsuki's felt Shouto's lips move against his roughened skin as he said, "I will follow wherever you lead me."

i don’t dance rating: g trigger warning(s): none

"What?" Todoroki asked, raising a snow white brow. "Don't like to dance?"

"What the fuck would ever give you the goddamn idea that I do?" Katsuki said.

Todoroki just shrugged, finishing off his punch and tossing his cup into a nearby recycling bin. "Well...would you like to?"

Katsuki squinted his eyes at Todoroki. "Like to what?"

"Dance with me."

I Now Pronounce You... rating: m trigger warning(s): alcohol use, sexual humor, implied sexual content

Bakugou sucked in a breath and turned to face Shouto, his crimson eyes serious and determined. “Let’s get married.”

Shouto’s world ground to a screeching halt and he nearly lost his balance in the process. “Come again?” he asked, blinking rapidly a few times. He must be nearing black-out drunk if he was starting to hallucinate Bakugou asking for his hand in marriage. They weren't even dating.

--

A fic in which Shouto and Katsuki have had a little too much to drink and decide to tie the knot.

it’s okay (to not be okay) rating: t trigger warning(s): hospitals, injury, implied abuse

Todoroki nodded and pursed his lips. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his mismatched eyes focused on his own hands as they tried to move in an unfamiliar pattern. If Katsuki were the sappy type, he might have admitted Todoroki looked cute when he was concentrating.

But Katsuki steered himself away from that train of thought, watching Todoroki’s hands sign a very simple, very loaded question.

“Are you okay?”

--

erasermight fics

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shut up and dance with me rating: g trigger warning(s): none

“Do you want to dance with me, Aizawa-kun?” Yagi asked with an almost bashful smile, and Aizawa couldn’t tell if it was the dim, colorful lights or a blush that was turning Yagi’s sharp cheeks pink.

“Alright,” he agreed, pushing himself off the wall and taking Yagi’s hand.

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kiritodo fics

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hey, beautiful! rating: g trigger warning(s): none

"Hey, beautiful!"

Shouto looked up from his laptop. A smile immediately tugged at his lips when he saw Eijirou standing in the doorway to his office, all geared up in his hero uniform.

"Hey yourself," he replied, standing up from his desk. "Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Because it's true?"

how many nights does it take to count the stars? rating: g trigger warning(s): brief mentions of war and trauma

The two of them sat together in silence, neither of them quite knowing what to say.

But...what do you even really say after a war?

shouldering the pain rating: t trigger warning(s): minor description of bruises

The polite thing to do was let Shouto take his shower, then ask him again about what was wrong afterward. But Eijirou was never good at sitting around and waiting.

So, he determinedly headed to the bathroom and cracked open the door.

And what he saw made his breath catch in his chest.

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Written for TodoKiri Week 2021

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gen fics

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Children of Bad Fire Dads Club rating: g trigger warning(s): mentions of endeavor’s bad parenting

Shouto drags Izuku with him to hang out with Natsuo.

like night and day rating: t trigger warning(s): talk about suicide, references to depression

Katsuki watches his phone screen, waiting for a message back from Deku. But instead of receiving a text, his phone starts vibrating and screen changes to that of an incoming call.

From Deku.

"Fucking hell," Katsuki breathes out, clicking the little green button with the phone icon on it to answer the call. "What," he growls out, his voice gravelly as he tries to keep quiet enough to not wake Todoroki.

And lord help him, he can already hear Deku sobbing on the other end of the line. The other boy is speaking, but all the crying makes it impossible for Katsuki to make any sense of what he's saying.

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missing scene between 'one day' and 'the day after'

[honeylikewords]

C, k, w. For whoever you wanna write for.

Thank you! I decided to experiment and go out on a limb with this one and try someone new, someone I’ve never written publicly for before: my version of Harvey Dent!

I’ve mentioned a few times before that Oscar is my ideal casting for Harvey (and many people seem to agree; there’s even talk that he was cast for the role in the upcoming Batman movie, but that the role had been cut from the final version of the script), and I just think it’d be fun to play around with the idea.

This version of Harvey that I’m experimenting with is inspired by the Harvey from Batman: The Animated Series and Oscar’s role as Basil Stitt in Lightningface, and is largely based on the understanding that Harvey is a fundamentally good person, and completely capable of healing, change, and growth (i.e. the occasional run in comics or other adaptations wherein Harvey is saved from himself and given proper care and support, allowing him to progress towards health). 

Of course, I do want to mention that characters like Harvey are not accurate (nor entirely helpful) depictions of conditions like dissociative identity disorder, and the condition itself is complex and covers a rather broad spectrum of individual disorders and behaviors and experiences, with much dispute in medical and psychiatric communities about classification, origin, treatment, et cetera, and therefore is not something I feel qualified to weigh in on. 

That said, Harvey is a character I love and care about, and therefore do feel comfortable writing about him with the intent of portraying respectful admiration and sowing the seeds of wishful thinking for a healthy recovery for him, a happy life with loved ones, and a prosperous future for his character. In that way, my Harvey will be written as having a well-developed support structure and beginning to lead a more healthy lifestyle. 

Now, with all that out of the way, here is my first foray into writing out some of my (admittedly lighthearted and possibly OOC) concepts for my interpretation of Harvey!

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?):

Harvey Dent is in a strange, self-made bind about physical touch. On one hand, Harvey is desperately touch-starved, viciously craving even the most minuscule of intimacies, aching for something, anything, be it as light as a brush to his wayward curls or a hand on the small of his back; the mere idea of something like being held in a loving pair of arms, safe and steady, makes him fucking dizzy.

But, on the other, deeply marred hand, Harvey is petrified of himself and doubts his capacity for tenderness. He fears that some dark, malicious part of himself lies in wait, hoping to strike when he is most lulled into comfort; worse yet, Harvey is afraid that those he loves and trusts the most will, by some horrible twist of fate, turn against him and hurt him when he least expects it. 

He tries to fight against those thoughts, and tries to reassure himself that he would never lay a hand on his loved ones, and especially never raise a hand to someone as precious to him as his sweetheart, but the niggling worm of his anxious thoughts still chews away at him from time to time, and he finds himself avoidant of touch, even if it’s something he yearns for passionately.

Harvey is naturally drawn to physical expressions of love, so telling himself “no” or shying away from something like being cuddled by his beloved feels both unnatural and cruel, and it exhausts him and his patience to try and uphold his self-enforced isolation. It’s like pulling teeth for poor Harvey; all the boy wants is to lay in bed with his sweet girl and feel the warm, solid weight of her against his skin, knowing she is his and he is hers, feeling that comforting press and release of their breaths falling into unison as they unwind together, and he just won’t let himself have it!

That said, as his relationship with his beloved strengthens with time and endurance, Harvey’s trust in her builds, too, and he grows more confident knowing that all sides of him, regardless of mood or memory, care about her, love her, and would never do anything to intentionally harm or frighten her, so their intimacy is able to flow more naturally.

Once they are at a comfortable place in their relationship, Harvey’s beloved goes out on a limb and curls up on the couch, patting the cushion next to herself. Harvey takes a seat and feels her put her hands on his shoulders and gently coax him into a laying position, his head resting squarely in her lap. 

She asks if he’s feeling alright-- his solid cheek has turned a deep and detectable shade of warm tan, and his eyes skitter around her face, shyly flitting from feature to feature-- and when he nods his consent, she reaches out a hand and passes her fingers along his hairline, tracing the coast of his curls as they transition from deep brown-black to stark white. Harvey holds his breath, afraid that if he moves even a single muscle, the spell will be broken and she will change her mind, repulsed by his scars, his odd hair, his mismatched eyes, his... everything.

But she does not pull back. She merely runs her fingers across his face, brushing at the crests of his strong cheeks, down his angled jaw, along the lines of his lips. She gazes at him with dreamy eyes, smiling to herself, and she hums, as if distantly amused.

“You’re so handsome, Harvey,” she purrs, using the back of her hand to card softly across the ridges of his scars. 

She’s lying, the familiar voice snarls. Lovely little liar, but a liar nonetheless.

Harvey ignores it and turns, burying his face in her belly, unwilling to let her see his flushed face and watery eyes. He takes a deep breath and puts his hands on her back, tugging her into himself, and him into her; he’s going to let himself have what he wants, for once.

From then on, Harvey finds it much easier to take the initiative to cuddle his beloved. When his Id takes greater control, Harvey will sometimes lift his sweet one up into his arms and confidently stride to the nearest cuddling spot-- be it the couch, his armchair, or the bed-- with her pressed to his chest, a cocky smile and waggling eyebrows meeting his beloved’s surprised expression. When he’s more reserved but still craving her touch, he’ll try to indicate his needs by nudging his head against her, hoping she takes the cue and fiddles with his hair, which relaxes him so deeply. 

Both are, in their own ways, uniquely endearing to his partner, but she loves when he regains even a sliver of his former savoir-faire and confidence and sweeps her off her feet; it feels like there before her is Apollo Dent once more, proud of himself and proud of his love, and she is always happy to see him grow more comfortable in his skin and around her!

As for how they cuddle physically, Harvey has a few positions he enjoys: he is quite fond of the aforementioned couch position, with his head in her lap and her fingers brushing his hair until he grows drowsy; he likes when she sits on his lap in his tall-backed armchair, reading a book together, her arms looped around his neck; he dearly delights in spooning his darling, stretching his broad arms around her and pressing her tightly to his chest, their bodies adjusting to one another’s curves and planes so naturally. 

But of all these, Harvey’s favorite would have to be laying in bed, on his back, with her laying half-on, half-off him, her head on his chest, her hands rubbing up and down his stomach and chest. Something about that combination of pressure and weightlessness, warmth and coolness, space and proximity, just feels ever so right to him, and often sends him into a deep and restful slumber. If he ever needs to melt into comfort, that’s his go-to.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?):

Before his accident, Harvey was a big proponent of kissing. Big fan. Huge. He loves the contact, the intimacy, and the adrenaline rush; nothing made his heart race and his head spin quite as much as winning a massive case or getting a public event under his belt and tugging his girl to his side, planting a deep, excited kiss on her lips and dipping her into suspension in his strong arms. It made him feel powerful and proud, and the kiss sealed the deal every time.

However, in the aftermath of his burns, Harvey’s kisses have had to evolve.

The hunger for them is still there, as potent and all-consuming as ever, but for a long while, he felt that the texture and warping caused by his scars made him, frankly, unkissable, so he avoided the act entirely.

Still, much like cuddling, Harvey grew back into his intimacy and allowed his yearnings to come to fruition, and surprised all parties involved by being the first one to initiate a kiss in this new stage of their relationship. 

It happened one day when Harvey was sitting at the kitchen table, poring over a copy of the Gotham Gazette (the Globe, Times, and Daily Planet sitting in a neat pile, waiting their turn to prophesy and portend), running his finger over the rim of his half-drunk coffee cup. 

He looked up from an article about the upcoming local elections to see his girlfriend futzing with something on the kitchen counter, tugging out a frying pan and ducking into the fridge. Deciding to mind his own business, he turned his nose paperward once more and returned to scanning the article, though his vision slipped back to her every few sentences or so.

The sound of the stove starting alerted him to her cooking, and he soon heard the familiar shattering of a cracked eggshell, the sputtering of the white hitting the pan, and the scrape of a spatula. Somewhere else in the kitchen, the toaster popped, as did the lid of a jam jar.

By the time Harvey had finished the article and flipped over to the sports section (ever the avid follower of the hometown baseball team, Harvey wanted to check in on the Gotham Knights’ standings), he saw his beloved round the counter and join him at the kitchen table, sliding a plate behind his paper.

He folded the paper at the median and peered down: there, on the table, were the eggs (soft scrambled), the toast (mid-doneness, teetering on dark, spread with a dark red jam speckled with seeds, indicating to Harvey that it was, in fact, raspberry), a pair of small sausage links, and a glass of orange juice. 

Blinking, Harvey looked up from the plate and over to his girlfriend, who was now back in the kitchen and preparing a second round of toast. He pointed down at the food, then cleared his throat.

“This yours?,” he rasped, voice still a little rusty from misuse. 

“Nope. That’s yours,” she returned, working a butter knife into the furthest crevices of the jam jar. “I don’t like seeing you just having coffee for breakfast. Makes me worried about your blood sugar levels.”

Harvey paused.

Then he stood up from the table, likewise rounded the counter, put his hands on either side of his girlfriend’s hips, turned her away from the jam jar, and kissed her squarely on the mouth.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough for her to slip a hand onto his cheek and cup him close, and for Harvey to move his hands to the small of her back, rocking her body closer to his. He breathed in deep through his nose and broke the kiss after a beat, lips separating with a light ‘pop’, and pressed his forehead to hers, smiling to himself.

He could hear her breath stutter and shake in the aftermath, and when she regained a stable pattern, she made a small, re-centering noise, halfway between an “ahem” and a “whooh”, then put her hands on his chest.

“What was that about, hon?”

“Nothin’,” he managed through his puppyish smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s just eggs and toast,” she giggled dizzily. “I suppose I’ll have to see what happens when I make you dinner!”

At that, Harvey chuckled, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth.

“I suppose you will,” he reiterated.

Again, much like cuddling, after that, Harvey began to allow himself more kisses more often. 

He’s a fan of taking his beloved’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tugging her up for a deep one, but equally pleased by pressing a light kiss to her temple before she heads out the door. He adores kissing her, slow and hungry, while they relax and enjoy each other’s company, or quick and fervently in brief spare moments of privacy. Every kind of kiss delights him.

Still, when he gets sensitive about things like his face or lips, and the texture thereof, he’ll ask her to only kiss the unscarred side of his face or the unburnt corner of his lips, which she’ll, of course, agree to do, but all the while remind him that his scars are no affront to her nor a deterrent to her kisses.

“They’re perfect lips,” she reminds him, even as she acquiesces to kissing just the unmarred portion of his mouth, “both sides.”

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Marriage was a concept Harvey found himself more intimidated by than comforted by throughout most of his life.

Harvey feared becoming someone like his father-- tyrannical, abusive, cruel and callous-- and trapping someone, inescapably, inside his own self-destructive world through the bonds of marriage, and often feared that if he grew too attached to his partner that she would, like so many before her, discover his flaws and abandon him, breaking his heart irreparably. He feared growing worse and worse with age, feared locking himself into something he couldn’t commit to, feared lashing out and hurting someone he had promised to protect and provide for; he feared what could happen to her if something went wrong in this terrible town, and if he did something that might set her up as a prime target through which to punish him. 

Still, through all his fear, the idea of marriage floated in his mind, congealing and solidifying as a concept the longer he loved his sweet girl, the more he thought about her as a fixture of his life. It didn’t seem reasonable to ask her to stay, to bear all his burdens alongside him, to struggle with him in the dark places he fell into, but at the same time, some selfish, childish urge inside begged him to keep her and claim her, to make himself part of her life inextricably.

Harvey fretted back and forth over the matter, waffling between extremes; it didn’t help that his personality shift had allocated his loyalties so unusually. While his Id, manifesting as Harv, was designed to be self-preserving and independent, Harv also was possessive and uncompromisingly loyal to his beloved, unwilling to even contemplate the idea of not having her in his life: Harv, though categorically opposed to any social strictures, was as dedicated as a married partner already to his one and only, and utterly determined not to share her. 

Harvey, the more balanced Ego, was a proponent of the idea of marriage but petrified of the consequences of his possible failure to perform in such a bond, and thus went back and forth on his potential spousal value, torn between the love he felt for his dear one and the anxiety he encountered at the idea of letting her down.

In summary: Harv believed marriage was a sham but he’d do anything to keep his girl his to love, and Harvey believed marriage was a sacred bond of love but feared he’d fail as a spouse as his father had failed his mother all those years ago, throwing the two halves into conflict and a restless oscillation of opinion on the topic.

Still, there was, thankfully, no rush for them to come to an immediate conclusion: Harvey’s girlfriend had no problem with their relationship as it stood, and was perfectly happy to just be by his side, loving him and caring for him as he loved and cared for her, while assisting in his recovery and reintegration into everyday society. There was no hurry for some big, life-altering change, nor any pressure to push towards “the next step”, as it were.

That, however, did not change Harvey’s internal struggle on the topic, which came to a head one day when the couple was on the couch, Harvey’s hair being finger-combed by his doting dear as she watched some home restoration show idly in the background. 

Harvey gazed up at her face and listened to the couple on the screen talking about bay windows and a portico and something something crown molding and “our budget of blah blah thousand dollars”, and began to imagine the process of buying a house.

He imagined it was very, very stressful-- after all, even trying to nail down an apartment in Gotham, District Attorney’s position and salary to his credit, was difficult-- but likely very gratifying. Owning a home, a place to call one’s own, to share with someone you loved... it sounded nice, in a sort of saccharine way.

Somewhere inside, Harv made a retching sound, but internally agreed that it did sound rather nice. Owning things did always appeal to Harv.

Harvey’s mind wandered to the idea of moving in with her, somewhere quiet and old, a fixer-upper with rooms to paint and floors to re-carpet and sconce lights that made everything look eerie and Victorian but in that nice, warm way. He pictured her sitting in a room full of boxes and unspooling packing tape, wearing one of his old NYU hoodies and “practical shoes” for moving day, smiling at him over a package of plates. His heart soared.

“Hey,” he rumbled. She looked down, curious, fingers stilling in his hair. “Would you ever...”

He trailed off, wondering if there was a non-embarrassing way to ask what he was thinking. 

“Would you ever... want to... if you... had the choice to, uh, would you want to... live with me for the rest of our lives?”

Harv and Harvey both cringed.

There was a pregnant pause as Harvey stared up at her, bated in his breath, as he waited for her to respond. He watched her face, still at first, slowly spread into a knowing smile, her eyes warm and glittering with promise, and observed her as she bent down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. Sweeping her hand across his brow, pushing his hair back, she nodded and twirled a curl of his shock-white hair around her index finger, springing it loosely.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “I would be very happy living with you for the rest of our lives.”

Harvey nodded slowly, reaching a hand up to stroke the fullness of her cheek with his calloused, burned hand, admiring the softness of it that he could still feel, nerve damage be damned. He pinched it slightly, causing her to giggle and tug lightly on the curl still wrapped around her finger.

“It’d make me... very happy to see you every day,” Harvey stated. “Forever. You know.”

“I think I get the idea,” she laughed, bending down to rub her nose against his sweetly. “I would be very happy seeing you, too, Mister Dent.”

She hovered her lips above his, tantalizingly close, and Harvey slipped a hand up to the nape of her neck, brushing the sensitive hairs there.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with that, he tugged her down.

Though it was by no means a proposal, nor even the promise of one to come, it satiated both halves of Harvey for the time being and soothed something inside: he knew, inherently, that she meant it. She did want to be with him. And he hoped that his intention to live a life dedicated to her, ever-loving and ever-loyal, was somehow, even slightly, conveyed by what he’d said.

But, for now, in lieu of a proposal, this would do.

Thank you for asking!