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spaceyaemonds · 3 months ago

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pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you see your mother face to face for the first time in years, and it starts with a rocky conversation.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, this is very much centered around reader and her mom (jack is only mentioned in this part), mentions of a difficult mother/daughter relationship, and angst due to that, i think that’s it?? minors DNI.

notes: i have still been struggling with a bit of writies block for this series :( so i am sorry if this is not the best. i also couldn’t quite get the flow right for this part. initially, jack and reader met with her mom, and then met with jacks mom (and his sister showed up) but as i was rereading it and trying to wrap it up today, i felt like it didn’t make a lot of sense, so decided to split part 7 up where it’s reader and her mom, jack and his mom, then them both with readers mom, and then with jacks mom. also, i really projected my own issues with my mom here, so if it feels like the relationship makes no sense that may be why💀 i hope you guys aren’t too disappointed with this! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 1.3k (ish)

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You and Jack both decided it would probably be best for you to speak with your mother on your own for the initial conversation. You, knowing your mother and all the snide remarks she’ll be giving, and him, taking your word for it that this is the best way to go about it.

So, after taking an entire day off of work to prepare for her coming, your apartment was spotless and a nice lunch had been made.

Every so often, you feel your girl kick at you from the confines of your womb.

You feel your heart rate pick up at the knock that sounds throughout the apartment.

“Okay, bug, let’s get this over with.” You mumble as you rub a hand over your stomach.

When you open the door, you force your eyes not to roll back into your head when she immediately pulls you into her embrace.

“Oh, baby,” She mumbles as she kisses the side of your head repeatedly.

“Hi mom,” You awkwardly rub her back.

When she finally pulls away, she keeps her hands on your shoulders as she looks you over.

She glances between you and your stomach twice, “Oh, wow.”

There it is. You scoff lightly before opening the door a little more to let her in.

Once the two of you are sitting at your dining table, you check your phone for any updates from Jack on how his conversation with his own mother is going.

Your mom huffs in annoyance, “You haven’t seen your mother in almost three years, and the first thing you do is get on your phone?”

You nearly laugh, but hold it back, “And whose fault is that? You came up with nearly any excuse you could to not come here for graduation last year.”

She narrows her eyes at you, and for a moment you feel sixteen again, but you hold her eyes.

“Well, then I’ll just say what I feel should be said then,”

“Oh, let’s hear it then,” You mumble out sarcastically.

“I think you should move home to raise the baby, with my help.”

Now you do laugh, “I’m sorry, what?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “Baby, what exactly do you think is going to happen here?”

You open your mouth to speak, but she continues, “A man old enough to be your father got you pregnant. And sure, he’s here now. But what happens when she’s born, huh? And he decides he doesn’t want to be a father? Or worse, tries to take her from you?”

Tears well up in your eyes before you can even stop them, “This is why you came? To lecture me about my life and then force me to come home with you?”

To her credit, her eye’s soften slightly, “No, baby, I’m just worried. This is a big deal.”

“You don’t even know him! All you do when I see you is try to dictate my life.”

She looks taken aback, “Now-“

“No, it’s true. You resent me for one reason or another for not turning out exactly like you wanted me too,”

“I wanted a better life for you then the one I had! Is that a crime?”

You scoff, “You hated me!”

Her mouth drops slightly, “I could never hate you. You are my child,”

She lets out a shaky breath, “Life was hard for us sometimes, and you didn’t make it any easier on me. I never hated you. I wanted the absolute best for you, that is still all I want for you.”

“Then don’t come here trying to sweep me away or convince me that the father of my baby is going to try to take her from me!” You grit the last part out, because no matter how hard you try to deny it, it’s still a very real fear for you.

She looks at you, frown ever present, “I am sorry if it seems like that’s all I came here to do. It wasn’t my intention, even if that’s what I think is for the best.”

You just shrug, not having anything else to say to her.

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes before you get up and plate the salads you made for lunch.

You eat in silence before she finally speaks up again, “Well, tell me all about it.”

You glance up, brow furrowed, “About what?”

“The baby. Her dad. Your life. Everything.” She has a smile on her face that transports you back to being ten years old, when she was your best friend and made you feel so loved and so invincible.

She must sense your distrust, because her face falls slightly.

“It’s a girl, I think I mentioned it, but if I didn’t. She’s a girl,” You smile when you talk about her.

You tell your mom names you’ve picked out, the types of food you're craving, which she tells you when you mention cravings similar to the ones that she had.

You tell her about work and your friends. She smiles, and though you know her, know that she doesn’t love you living in Pittsburgh and the path you’ve chosen, you can tell she is happy for you.

“And how did you meet Jack?” Your mom asks casually as she takes a sip of water.

You wince, “Um, a bar?”

She coughs, face turning red, “Was this a one night stand?”

You wince again. You’d kept the details out initially. Just telling her that you’d met a guy and gotten pregnant but you were trying to still get to know each other. Which wasn’t a lie.

“I mean, I guess you could call it that?”

Your face heats up under the judgemental look in her eyes, and it causes you to shrink in on yourself.

She stares at you a moment longer, eyes glancing down at your stomach and lingering, “Is he good to you?”

You look at her, a soft smile taking over your face as you talk about him, “Yeah. I mean he’s busy a lot, but he’s always here when I need him. Goes to the store to get snacks in the middle of the night and wakes up with me if I get sick.”

Your eyes get distant as your hand rubs your stomach, “He’s changed his whole life for her, for me, and I know it isn’t conventional or anything. And he and I are doing this all backwards but,”

You trail off, eyes focusing back on her, “I think this is a really good thing. Scary, like really scary, but I think it will turn out really good.”

She reaches across the table to grab one of your hands, “I know you’re an adult who can make her own decisions, and I know there is no one harder on you than me. Trust me when I say I know that,”

To your surprise, she lets out a shaky breath and tears start to fill her eyes, “I know this is the time in your life for me to let you do what you think is best but I just can’t help but still want to keep you safe, safe with me.”

You haven’t felt the way you feel right now in almost a decade. Your relationship turned sour and complicated around the time you started high school. She was tough, and though you don’t have any ill feelings in your heart over it, she was jealous of the life you had when hers was so hard.

Moving for college mended some of that, but not all of it, and the resentment still lingered, however small, even some today.

But hearing that? It’s either your inner child begging for her mom again, or the hormones from growing your own, but it makes your chest feel heavy.

You squeeze her hand twice, against your better judgement.

#the pitt x reader #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #🐝 writes: the pitt #🐝 writes #ahhhhggg i can’t tell if i love or hate this #and i hate begging but i am begging for feedback guys😭😭 i am really struggling with the main story of this so literally ANYTHING #surprise pregnancy!jack abbot

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lilybug-02 · 11 months ago

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Dewi needed Hornets help OKAY.

Bug Fact: The Planthopper insect can accelerate from 0 to 12 miles per hour in less than a millisecond. Video/Pictures Below

First || Prev // Next

Masterpost

The Planthopper essentially vanishes from view.

They are also an extremely diverse set of insects morphologically!

Interested in learning more? True Facts About Leafhoppers and Friends <- very humorous and educational video :D PG-13

#Hornet though she was helping a higher being! She didn't know it was a grub higher being of all things >:(#I like to think the bug laughs are like little chirps. It's just cute that way #Zote talks to anyone who will listen. Elder Bug is in this margin #Lets hope Dewi can come back #posting this at the hour of 11pm. no regrets #dewi's adventures in hollow knight #hollow knight #hollow knight au #hollow knight comic #hollow knight hornet #hk ghost #hollow knight quirrel #dewi #hollow knight hollow #my art

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sillyswriting · 6 months ago

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: ̗̀➛ neighbor kyle 'gaz' garrick - 01

cw : sexual theme

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ collection - prev ⋆ next

ever since he moved in, you've been drooling all over him. a tall, strong, and handsome military man living next door was a dream come true. a very wet one.

after introducing yourself to him, he turned out to be even more perfect: he was so fucking nice. you didn't know how it was possible to be like this. he must be hiding something. he was even more intriguing in that he was not home that often, which made you want to dig deeper to know more about him. every exchange you had with him was really polite, and he was always smiling softly and holding the door.

you had tried flirting with him, but you couldn't tell if he was oblivious or if it was his polite way of telling you he was not interested. so you stopped. either way, you didn't feel like bearing the embarrassment. it had been a long time since you had gotten laid, and having a greek god living next to you didn't do you any good.

you had told your girlfriends all about him--well, all you knew, which was close to nothing. agreeing with you, they decided you needed to get laid, and quick. so they took you to a pub--the one you were used to, full of finance guys who were so willing to buy drinks for any girls who spoke more than two words to them. you were not poor; your job was paying well, but you'd never refuse free drinks. you had set your eyes on a tall man, and after five drinks, you could see some resemblance to your neighbor. so you took him home.

you should have known. the night was a disaster. the man didn't listen to you, only cared about his own pleasure, so you did the next best thing: you faked it. oh god, you'd been loud. you knew your only neighbor was out of town, so you gave an oscar-worthy performance. you had the common sense to kick him out right after, pretending you were getting up early for work. you were mortified when you saw the light under kyle's front door. he was home. and you had just screamed like a pornstar to satisfy an arrogant man's ego. fuck.

you slammed your door after your realization, not even caring that the man was still talking. you had been sure he was away; it had been weeks since you'd seen him. why did he have to come home now? how were you going to face him next? doing the only rational thing in your mind, you texted the group chat.

the next morning, you were hungover and still mortified. two feelings that didn't mix well. you hadn't slept that well, so you were easily irritated, and you hadn't cum the night before, reinforcing your bad mood. you cried when you opened your empty fridge; you had forgotten you were supposed to go grocery shopping today.

needing a few moments to prepare yourself, both physically and mentally, you cringed thinking back to what happened yesterday. you had wanted the man gone as soon as possible, so you had put on a show, boosting his ego a little bit too much. the man had been an idiot, though; any reasonable man would have figured out your little play, but not him. he had given you his number, accompanied by a "call me if you want another good time," and a wink. you swore you could have thrown up right there. but the soft light under your neighbor's door had put you back down to earth way quicker than any other remark from this man could have.

still very much lost in thought, you didn't hear the door opening behind you as you closed your own. "mornin'," made you flinch, a little scream leaving your lips. oh no, this was your worst nightmare. you had especially waited until the early afternoon because you knew he usually liked to be out and about really early.

"sorry, darling, didn't mean to scare you," kyle said, chuckling softly. darling? that was new. you told him it was fine, as both of you made your way to the elevator. you should have gone for the stairs. you were standing really close, and he smelled so good. had he always smelled this good? you didn't remember.

he gestured for you to enter first, pushing the lobby button for him and the garage button for you. how did he know? you always went down to your car, but you didn't think he had noticed this. why was the small gesture so hot? you needed help. the elevator ride was awkward; you kept glancing at him quickly, but he didn't look at you. he had a cocky smile on his lips, though, which made him even more attractive.

before you knew it, the ride was over. you let out a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding. just as you thought you were safe, that he was going to leave with his usual "have a good day," you were reminded how bad your karma was. the doors to the elevator opened, and kyle decided it was time to talk.

"hey, next time you fake it, keep it down a bit. don't want the poor lad to figure it out, aye?" and with that, he stepped out of the elevator. you could feel all the blood in your body rushing straight to your cheeks. "but if you're looking for a real good time, you know where to knock," he added, punctuating his words with a wink and a smirk.

now you know what kyle garrick was hiding: a cocky personality... and you liked it. you needed to text the group chat again.

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thebiscuitlabryinth · 5 months ago

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[prev]

The air in the Vanilla Kingdom is crisp and slightly thin from the high altitude, a far cry from the heavy dustiness that Healer is accustomed to from the village. Sadly, any refreshment he could have gotten from it is thrown off by the underlying sugary staleness.

The young batch of adventurers forge onwards in front of him, their chatter shaking the strange silence that blankets what Healer had assumed to be a populated kingdom. Plain Yogurt sticks close to his right, casually relaying descriptions of the battered and time-worn buildings they pass to him. It isn’t really necessary, because Healer can get an understanding of the area through the tap of his staff and the tiles beneath his feet, and he doesn’t have much interest in the visual details anyway. Still, Healer doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop, endeared by the sweet sentiment behind his dedicated descriptions.

Flanking his left is a wary Black Raisin with a raisin crow or two, from the sounds of it. It is not ideal for her and Plain Yogurt to be on this venture together, but Healer appreciates both of their company regardless. At the very least, they seem to be ignoring each other for the most part, the typical tension between them mostly unnoticeable.

It is just as well, because Healer has enough to worry about as it is: the stale air, the silence slinking around them, the unsteady tiles shifting beneath the weight of his staff.

He hates to admit it, but it is all horribly unnerving.

Healer can understand his discomfort at the unexpected state of the kingdom, but he does not understand the twist of despair in his gut, something eerily close to grief. Everything feels wrong, and while that should be unsurprising coming from a place you expected to be inhabited, the wrongness Healer feels almost comes from a place of familiarity rather than expectation. Like it feels wrong because he knows it usually does not feel like this.

That is impossible, though, because Healer has never been here before. So he keeps that feeling tucked close to himself, following the sound of the group’s footsteps and Plain Yogurt’s elaborate commentary.

It does not take very long for them to agree that the Vanilla Kingdom seems to be abandoned, even more so than their own little village. There isn’t a trace of another Cookie anywhere, and the further into the kingdom they go, the more true that conclusion seems to be.

“This state of disrepair could be because nobody is around to maintain everything.” Wizard suggests as the young adventurers debate the cause, a contemplative lilt to his voice. “Perhaps the Cookies who once lived here fled from Dark Enchantress Cookie during the Dark Flour War?”

Dark Enchantress. Healer has heard the name before, but it has never hit him square in the chest like it does now, leaving him winded. Pain bursts behind his bandaged eyes, blurry memories of desperation and devastation ripping through him like a blade, dripping ice down his spine. It is all completely incomprehensible, ill-fitting with the reality of the village life he knows and upsetting because of it.

“Dark Enchantress– the things she’s done. The crimes she’s committed!” The gasp comes unthinkingly from his throat, and he suddenly knows with a startling certainty what Dark Enchantress has done. He shouldn’t. It is impossible, for someone to suddenly know things out of nothing, and yet–

The newfound power dwelling in Healer’s staff reaches weakly for him, drapes over him, cool and crisp like the high altitude air. It is meant to be soothing, Healer thinks, but a part of him recoils violently from it, because it must be the cause of these strange flashes of knowledge that do not belong to him. His hand jerks around his staff, as if he isn’t sure whether to throw it away or cling to it like a lifeline, before he stubbornly tightens his grip and plants it in the ground, trying to catch his bearings.

A hand lands on his shoulder, keeping him steady, and Plain Yogurt’s voice swoops in close behind. “Hey, are you okay? That was quite the reaction.” He asks, his words sounding heavy in a way that Healer assumes is awkward, even though Plain Yogurt doesn’t seem to get awkward often. “...Do you know Dark Enchantress or something?”

It is an innocent, almost casual question beneath its layers of concern, but it might be the worst thing Healer could have heard at that moment. It feels like it cleaves straight through his brain, peeling back his consciousness like an orange and dredging up ancient pain from the depths of his subconscious, so strong it is like it has been fermenting all this time. It crawls through his dough, and he is hit with the scent of burnt dough and ruin, of ozone and jam, of wilting lilies–

Healer’s gasp of breath catches wetly in his throat, sounding slightly strangled.

“Healer!” Black Raisin calls, and he can feel her pressing in on his other side, hands hovering over him but not quite touching, not quite as bold in her invasion of his personal space as Plain Yogurt is. Her concern immediately turns to anger, and she addresses Plain Yogurt sharply behind Healer’s head. “Don’t ask such a stupid question! Why do you insist on upsetting him over nothing?”

“I was trying to check on him!” Plain Yogurt argues, his hand on Healer’s shoulder tightening from his steady comfort. “If I knew it would make him worse, I wouldn’t have asked him that, obviously.”

“It is very easy to say that, isn’t it?” Black Raisin shoots back, and Healer can practically feel Plain Yogurt bristle beside him. He wishes they hadn’t started arguing at all, but at least it grounds him from the churning confusion of his unreliable mind, helping him recover his wits with something else to focus on.

“Black Raisin, please don’t make accusations like that.” Healer cuts in gently, the tone only slightly unsteady as he gets his breath under control. He lifts his free hand to pat her arm in consolation, closing the gap that she had been hesitant to bridge herself. “Plain Yogurt is right. He was only trying to help, and he had no way of knowing the question would be sensitive.” He pauses, then admits a little sheepishly, “Even I am not sure why I reacted so strongly.”

Black Raisin seems to hesitate for a moment, before sighing, her tone softening. “Are you alright now, at least?”

“I am, I promise you.” Healer insists with a little quirk of a smile, and it isn’t quite a lie, but it isn’t a truth either. He raises a hand to pat the hand on his shoulder too, tilting his head towards Plain Yogurt. “Both of you. Thank you for the concern, but we should catch up with our new friends before we lose them, shouldn’t we?”

Black Raisin makes a reluctant but ultimately agreeing noise, Plain Yogurt squeezes his shoulder once before his hand falls away, and that is that.

Healer is a bit relieved that the batch of young adventurers hadn’t noticed his severe reaction, distracted as they were with patching up some holes in their way forward, because he really has no explanation for it. He isn’t sure if he wants an explanation either. He tries to push past it instead, dismissing his own mixed emotions as they continue on.

Unfortunately, that is a lot easier said than done. It is like a lock has been unlatched, allowing memories that belong to someone else to seep in through the cracks, even as muddled and unclear as they are. Healer’s feet move as if they know this path, as if they have walked it a hundred times before, and it unsettles him more than if he kept tripping up.

Swarmed by his own creeping discomfort, Healer can barely pay attention to Plain Yogurt’s descriptions, let alone anything else. Plain Yogurt must notice his scattered attention, because he has always been oddly good at reading Healer, but he doesn’t seem offended. He just continues to talk, and Healer clings to his voice like an anchor even though he doesn’t quite process every word.

With the descriptions he does catch, Healer somehow manages to imagine exactly what is in front of him, so clear it is as if he can see it for himself, caught in his mind like a picture. But that is impossible. It must be, because Healer has worn his bandages for as long as he can remember, so he has never seen anything.

Healer is finally and suddenly pulled from his queasy confusion by a new voice up ahead, shouting indignantly. “Scrap? You’re calling my perfect toys scrap?! How dare you!”

“Uh, who are you?” Gingerbrave pipes up, slightly bewildered.

Healer feels the same, complicated further by disbelief, worry and an unexplainable dose of hope. “How can there be another Cookie here?” He turns to where he thinks Plain Yogurt is, waving his free hand to get his attention when he doesn’t manage to find his arm. “The rest of the kingdom is definitely abandoned, isn’t it?”

Plain Yogurt, as if in silent apology for not being where Healer expected, suddenly presses their shoulders together, staying for a long moment before pulling away again. “Well, it definitely looked abandoned. Maybe they’re the only one here.”

“Huh?” The new voice sounds just as bewildered as Gingerbrave was, and Healer aches a little as he realises how young the voice sounds, paired with Plain Yogurt’s suggestion that they might be here all alone. “Wait, are you really Cookies?” There’s a subtle rise of hope in their tone, and Healer’s ache worsens, knowing that reaction only makes Plain Yogurt’s deduction seem more likely. “Pfft, what am I saying? Of course you’re not. Now, where are your data chip interfaces?”

There’s a few quick footsteps, before Chili Pepper is shouting, “Hey, get off of me!”

The little one doesn’t seem to show any sign of noticing her protests, based on Chili Pepper’s continued grumbling and the little one’s muttered…calculations?

Then, the little one gasps. “No way! You guys are all really Cookies?” There is a flurry of more footsteps, followed by startled complaints from the rest of the young adventurers as the little one presumably turns their inspection towards them. “It sure looks like it! Woah, I haven’t seen another Cookie in…” The movement briefly pauses as the little one drags out a hum. “...forever!”

That is rather concerning in itself, and Healer wants to ask about that, to understand the situation so he could possibly offer the little one help, but in the next second, everything happens too quickly for his questions to have a chance.

The little one’s footsteps storm towards them, followed by a split-second scuffle, dough hitting dough, and a yelp of surprise. Healer sucks in a breath, but he already has an idea of what happened, even before Plain Yogurt says, “Don’t you dare.”

The words are low and flat, a warning that hangs in the air like thunder. Healer finds it to be a bit harsh of a reaction, but he knows how sensitive Plain Yogurt can be with unwanted touch and he can’t really blame him for that, so instead he tries to smooth things over amicably. “Sorry, he doesn’t like physical contact all that much. You should have at least asked beforehand.”

“He didn’t seem to have any problems making physical contact with you.” The little one sniffs petulantly, slightly muffled like they were covering their face.

“That’s because we’re friends.” Healer explains patiently, before his worry finally gets the better of him, taking a step towards the sound of the little one’s voice. “Are you hurt at all? I’m sure Plain Yogurt didn’t mean to, but I can help if you are.”

He reaches his free hand out in a friendly offer, but the little one doesn’t take it. They scoff, footsteps stumbling back. “Whatever. I don’t need to be here for this. Have fun getting lost!”

The footsteps scurry away before Healer can muster up a proper response, and he deflates with an odd twist of guilt in his gut, dropping his hand.

“Um…that was weird, right?” Strawberry mumbles in the quiet aftermath.

“They were weird, more like.” Plain Yogurt snorts humorlessly, a mostly unfamiliar edge to his tone. “Talking about equations and grabbing everyone willy-nilly like that. Suspicious, isn’t it?”

“I hate to say it but I agree.” Black Raisin mutters as if it pained her, a judgemental caution thick in her voice. “I don’t trust that Cookie one bit. They acted strangely, and I doubt that they are really alone.”

Plain Yogurt snorts again, louder with more genuine mirth. “You don’t trust anyone.”

Black Raisin huffs, but says nothing. In any other situation, Healer would have been thrilled to see them agree on something, to get along semi-amicably, but unfortunately he doesn’t quite agree with their joint stance.

“Well, suspicious or not, we should still go after them, right?” Gingerbrave argues. “It’s probably dangerous for them to be running around here alone.”

“Yes.” Healer smiles slightly, relieved that someone else had the same idea as him. “I have a few questions to ask them too, about their personal situation and this kingdom.”

Healer is not sure why he feels such a strong sense of responsibility over this little one, a deep-seated guilt as if whatever happened to them is his own fault. It doesn’t make sense. Still, focusing on the little one is better than focusing on anything else, because at least the little one doesn’t prompt disorienting fragments of memories that tear at his mind with impossible familiarity.

“A splendid idea!” Custard declares, just as upbeat as before. “After all, every king should understand their loyal citizens’ perspectives.”

Plain Yogurt sighs, setting his elbow on Healer’s shoulder and leaning into him. “Well, if you say so. It would be good for us to know what really happened here, anyway.”

There it is again, that strange lilting tone that Plain Yogurt sometimes gets, the one he can never parse. Healer turns to face him at the contact, suddenly reminded of his earlier unanswered question. He asks quietly, “They weren’t hurt, were they? I heard contact, but it didn’t sound too hard.”

Plain Yogurt pauses for a moment. “Of course not.” He assures in a soft, hushed voice. “Nothing more than a little scratch, at most. I’m not someone who likes violence, you know that.”

Healer nods, understanding. “No, I know. It was an instinctive reaction, as unfortunate as it is.”

Plain Yogurt hums, the sound trailing off. Then, he straightens up from Healer and announces, as if to dismiss the topic entirely, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get your answers. We’re heading towards the castle anyway, so we’re bound to run into them again eventually.”

It is phrased ominously, but Healer accepts it as the support it is clearly meant to be with a small smile. “You’re right. Let’s get going, then.”

So, onwards they go.

It does not take them long to run into the little one again. Although they had retreated of their own accord, Chili Pepper’s penchant for rummaging through the scrap in their path quickly draws them out again.

“Hey, those parts are mine! Give them back!” The little one shouts from further away, clearly keeping their distance from the group. “You have no idea how precious those are.”

“Well, I do now!” Chili Pepper crows, a smirk colouring her voice. “And if they were really yours, how was I able to swipe ‘em up so easily?”

“Just give the parts back.” Wizard sighs in palpable annoyance. “We shouldn’t be picking unnecessary fights.”

“Yeah! You should listen to that Cookie with the high ice cream percentage, 13 grams of chili sauce!” The little one declares smugly, the tone rivalling Chili Pepper’s own smirk. They completely ignore both Wizard and Chili Pepper’s exclamations of confusion and offense, a bang or two suggesting that they had hopped up onto a box or ledge of some kind to lord over them. “This is my playground, and these are my toys. In fact, everything left in this kingdom is mine! So–”

The little one cuts themself off with a shriek of alarm, and Healer straightens up, mind racing as he whips around to try and ask Plain Yogurt what happened.

“Let me go!” The little one shouts indignantly, stopping Healer in his tracks. He can hear grunts of effort as they presumably try to struggle out of a hold.

“Hah! Not so funny when you’re on the receiving end, huh?” Chili Pepper retorts, a little too vindictive. For a split second, Healer assumes she must be the one to have grabbed the little one, even though the direction and distance of their two voices don’t match up.

“Woah, Plain Yogurt Cookie, you moved so fast, I didn’t even see you!” Custard says in awe, building to an innocent excitement. “How would you feel about becoming my Royal Bodyguard?”

Healer freezes, silently reaching a hand out to where he thought Plain Yogurt was. Sure enough, his hand only meets air, and he quickly tucks it close to his chest, not wanting to attract attention in his own confusion. He hadn’t heard Plain Yogurt move at all – but then again, he had suspected that Plain Yogurt could move silently for a while now, based on a collection of instances where, in Healer’s blindness, he seemed to disappear into thin air.

“Where did you even come from, you- you–!” The little one sputters, a frazzled irritation spiking their tone. “–What are you?!”

“What, you can’t figure it out?” Plain Yogurt muses, condescending to a degree that honestly surprises Healer. He had never heard him like this, even in his spats with Black Raisin; something so close to toeing the line of cruelty. “What a pity.”

“Plain Yogurt, be gentle with them.” Healer says, suddenly realising that he might need the reminder. He assumes that this odd behaviour stems from the little disagreement the two had earlier, when the little one grabbed at Plain Yogurt without permission, though it is still a little uncomfortable to reconcile Plain Yogurt’s usual behaviour to this.

“I am, I am, they’re just fussy.” Plain Yogurt replies, his tone lightening back to a much more familiar one. Since none of their companions refute the claim, Healer accepts that as truth, though he likely would have done so even if he hadn’t had the assurance. “Well, my dear, you said you have questions. Now is your chance to ask them.”

Healer, admittedly, cannot help being slightly flattered by the implication that Plain Yogurt did this for him, even though he doesn’t agree with his methods in the slightest. “You didn’t have to–”

The little one groans loudly, and the sounds of struggling stop as they must have finally slumped into Plain Yogurt’s hold. “Just ask your stupid questions and let me go, before I stop being nice and do something you’ll really regret.”

The threat washes over Healer’s shoulders as he moves over to where their voices are coming from, drawing closer to them. “Sorry once again, little one.” He apologises, because guilt gnaws at him, though he isn’t fully certain what specifically he is apologising for. “I don’t have too much to ask but… where are the other Cookies of this kingdom?”

The little one answers quickly and scornfully. “I don’t know and I don’t care! This kingdom fell a looong time ago, and nobody stuck around after that. Literally everyone knows that.”

Healer had guessed as much anyway, but for some reason, the confirmation makes him slightly queasy, his breath catching in his lungs. “No, that can’t be… all of the Cookies that once lived here?” Unwanted, the sound of a bustling crowd cheering dances in his ears, a sugary scent thickens the air, and Healer shakes his head to try and dismiss the ghosts of something that does not belong to him because it can’t, it can’t. “But then, where did you come from?”

Plain Yogurt must have loosened his grip, because the sounds of a scuffle return, and this time, the little one audibly escapes with a laugh that sounds only slightly hysterical. “I’m not telling you! Leave me alone!”

With that, the little one scurries off, even faster than before. Chili Pepper shouts after them, and one after another, the batch of young adventurers take off after them without giving much consideration towards whether such a chase is needed.

“Where are you all going? This is completely unnecessary!” Black Raisin scolds, but she still runs after them, her crow cawing impatiently. She must have accepted that, regardless of her own hostility in the village, the adventurers are her wards on this expedition, and treats them with protectiveness accordingly. “Be careful, the tiles are loose, remember?!”

Healer, with little choice left in the matter, goes to follow the sound of their disappearing movements, only to startle when a familiar voice appears on his left.

“Sorry for leaving you alone all of a sudden.” Plain Yogurt says, sweet but not quite as apologetic as his words should have been. “I saw you reaching for me earlier.”

Healer finds himself fighting a small flush of embarrassment, but he presses it down behind a breathy chuckle. Admittedly, he hadn’t heard Plain Yogurt approach him, and had assumed he had followed the initial rush after the little one, since he had been their captor. “Your movement really can be impressively silent when you want it to be.”

“What can I say?” Plain Yogurt hums, playful and weirdly sardonic. “It’s a gift.”

Healer sighs, reaching out expectantly and relaxing in places he hadn’t realised were tense when Plain Yogurt gives him his arm. “You shouldn’t have done that to the little one, though. You must have scared them.”

Plain Yogurt tsks, the sweetness in his voice taking on a begrudgingly bitter tang. “Why? I was only returning the favour.”

“Even so. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, you know.”

Plain Yogurt laughs. “And you, my dear? Are you speaking from experience?” He teases warmly, in the way he always teases Healer. It is not meant to be taken seriously.

But the question triggers a snap of pain at Healer’s temples, bringing in the scent of choking smoke and the sound of crumbling destruction, as if the whole world were wheezing in pain. Flashes of stark red dance in the pitch black behind his eyelids – red, definitely red, but how does he know what that is – and the phantom claws of an unfamiliar magic scrabble through him, freezing and wild and near uncontrollable. A last resort. A dangerous gambit.

“Dear?” Plain Yogurt repeats, now with concern, it must be concern because Healer must be imagining the rise of a smile in his syllables. “You keep getting distracted. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” Healer exhales the reply, perhaps a bit too quickly, desperately trying to empty his mind of anything but the tangible, understandable present. He tentatively loosens his painfully tight grip on Plain Yogurt’s arm, unsure of when that had happened. “Yes, I am. We should catch up with the others before we lose track of them entirely.”

Much to Healer’s relief, Plain Yogurt accepts his blatant diversion gracefully and they finally start walking. Healer is genuinely worried, to a certain degree, by how far they have fallen behind, but Plain Yogurt seems unbothered. He leads him along as if he is certain he knows exactly where the rest of their group has gone, even though Healer cannot seem to hear any evidence of them. Perhaps there is a more obvious visual trail that he cannot see.

“They’re in this big fortress.” Plain Yogurt comments offhandedly as Healer feels the wind cut off abruptly, held off by sturdy walls. He hears a commotion of familiar voices coming from up ahead and quickens his pace, half-dragging Plain Yogurt behind him in his haste. Plain Yogurt makes no attempt to complain, instead letting out an interested noise. “A warehouse of Wafflebots, no less! It looks like there are dozens sleeping in here.”

“Wafflebots?” Healer parrots in alarm as they finally reunite with the rest of the group, who all seem to be discussing the same thing.

“The Vanillians seem to have originally built them to help with tasks too difficult for Cookies, like defence and construction, not as weapons.” Wizard explains, his words slightly slow and stilted like he is still trying to piece everything together. Then he gasps, the audible manifestation of a burst of excitement. “And just look at that Wafflebot Goliath! According to this blueprint, they all have a permanent enchantment on their machinery which allows them to perform up to twenty-seven different commands. It’s incredible!”

“All of that only proves that we should destroy this place.” Black Raisin insists, her determined voice holding a precious thread of fierce hope. “The more impressive it is, the more danger it poses to the village.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Custard interjects with a nervous waver to his voice that steadies out as he clears his throat. “As future king, I should take a closer look first. If we can fix them, then they won’t attack anymore. They could even be a great help!”

Healer hears Custard stepping closer to what must be one of the Wafflebots, and dread drips into his stomach. “Uh, I don’t think that is such a good idea, Your Majesty.”

“No need to fret, my faithful subject!” Custard chirps cheerfully as his feet continue to tip-tap closer. “This one seems docile, so it should be–”

Before he can finish that sentence, a sharp whirring fills the fortress, echoing through the large space and ringing in Healer’s ears as the screech of moving metal synchronises with the thump of robotic feet.

Healer can hear everyone jump into the fight, though it is difficult for him to track what exactly is happening past the squeal of metal, the buzz of magic, the rumble shaking his feet and the battle cries. What he does know is that Plain Yogurt is still lingering behind him, and Healer backs up into him, throwing his free arm out to protect him just like he had back in the village. He tightens his grip on his staff, but is discouraged from trying anything by the sluggishly low amount of magical energy he finds.

The acrid smell of explosions and laser smoke wrap around him, thick on his tongue, and Healer tries not to choke on his own disgusting sense of déjà vu.

Thankfully, Plain Yogurt is not as panicked as he was during the attack on the village, grounding him in the present with his steady assessment of the situation. “They look like they’re struggling to beat it.”

Which sounds bad, yes, and makes Healer queasy, but it at least brings him back to the here and now. He tries to think of what he can do to help, hearing the group’s enthusiasm to fight begin to slowly flag, his thoughts tangling uselessly with one another.

“There’s a secret passage somewhere here.” Healer blurts out, and the words scald him because he knows that they are true but he shouldn’t. He can’t afford to question or reject it when it could save them now, though, so he continues. “Near one of the, uh, control stations? I believe?”

He could not sound less convincing if he tried, and yet Plain Yogurt grabs his elbow and begins steering him towards the wall without question. Healer makes sure to keep himself between Plain Yogurt and the Wafflebot fight as they move, tense with anticipation, until they slow to a stop.

Under the din of the ongoing battle, there is the creak of rusty hinges.

“Found it!” Plain Yogurt confirms as he tugs on Healer’s sleeve.

Relief finally rears its head, and Healer twists around to yell over his shoulder as Plain Yogurt pulls him into the passageway, “Everyone, follow us! There’s a passageway here, we should be able to follow it to safety!”

It doesn’t take long for the rest to enter the passageway behind them, banging against the walls in their haste and panting as they try to catch their breath. The trek through the narrow passage gives them time to calm down, adrenaline levelling out as the clanging of the Wafflebot Goliath fades away. Plain Yogurt leads the way, at some point releasing Healer’s sleeve, until the walls fall away from their sides and the crisp, open air greets them once more.

The crisp, open air and the unmistakable whirring of a fleet of Wafflebots overhead.

Healer tenses, tilting his head upwards to try and gauge if the fleet is approaching them or not. Plain Yogurt must notice him doing that, as he always seems to, because he answers his silent question. “Don’t worry, they’re not attacking us. Actually, it looks like they’re leaving the Vanilla Kingdom.”

“But then where…” Black Raisin trails off, before sucking in a sharp breath. “No! No, they’re heading towards the village!”

The words alone are enough to make Healer’s heart sink, but the spark of genuine, unadulterated panic in Black Raisin’s voice makes it even worse. Out of all the time he has known her, Black Raisin has never sounded like that. Even in the worst calamities, even when the Wafflebots first descended, she has always been able to take control and keep steady, directing her energy into protection rather than panic.

Then again, she has never been this far from the village before. She has never been in a position where, when a crisis occurs, she cannot immediately take action to protect the village.

“Healer, we have to go back immediately.” Black Raisin demands, and he can hear a raisin crow take flight somewhere, spurned by her urgency. “If we hurry, we might be able to make it back before too much damage is done.”

He can hear her marching back past him, to try and go back the way they came, and Healer’s hand flies up to catch her shoulder. Her panic makes his dough crawl, but uncertainty and the thinning curl of power in his staff glue his feet to the tiles below. “Wait, I– unfortunately, the power in my staff seems to be depleted from creating the portal up. If we go back now, I’m not sure if we will be able return up here.”

He can feel how stiff she is beneath his palm, almost trembling with the wound tension, but Black Raisin still stops at his touch. Her voice, however, is unyielding, only growing in agitation. “Why does that matter now? The village is in danger. We can worry about things like coming back here once we make sure everyone back home is safe.”

She is right. Healer knows that she is right, but there is a clashing sense of responsibility swelling from the depths of his mind, pulling his heart in two dizzying directions. “But we have yet to fully understand what has happened here.” He argues, though he isn’t quite sure he wants to know either, unable to verbalise the foreign guilt that has sneakily tethered him to the path forward. “We still don’t know the situation surrounding the little one, and there could be other Cookies here in need of help that we don’t know of. And there is the matter of- of Dark Enchantress–”

His throat spasms thickly around that name with something eerily close to grief, and he is almost relieved when Black Raisin immediately cuts him off.

“What has gotten into you?” Her disbelief almost fully eclipses her outrage, all of which is undoubtedly stoked by the pressure of the situation. “None of that is our problem. Our only priority should be keeping the village safe, and our only fight is with the Wafflebots that descend on us. There is no need for us to involve ourselves any further.”

“But the world is larger than just our village.” Healer says, his words gaining a strength he doesn’t really feel. “Something awful has happened here and–”

“And that is still not our problem! We are not here to be heroes, Healer, we are just Cookies trying to live.” Black Raisin shoots back, shrugging Healer’s hand off her. The gesture stings a little, because she has never rejected his touch before, but he lets his hand fall. She sighs, her voice leaning closer towards a plea. “Please, Healer. You've been reacting strangely ever since we got here, and you’ve been almost constantly distressed. Don’t you think it would be in your best interest to go back anyway?”

Healer understands her point, but it scrambles into the complicated knot of emotions swirling in his chest. Half of him is tempted, half of him really has no interest in knowing any more, but the cold sting of the waning power in his staff keeps him grounded like an obligation. When the words finally and clumsily tumble out of his mouth, he is speaking to himself more than anyone else, sharp with self-inflicted reproach. “No, no, turning back now would be cowardly.”

He doesn’t realise his mistake until he hears Black Raisin reply, “...Are you saying I’m a coward? Is that what you truly think of me?”

There is a shiver in her voice, a crack of hurt so much worse than her anger and panic, and regret washes over Healer in an instant. His face falls, and he quickly, furiously, shakes his head. “No, that’s not–”

“Well, he’s right, isn’t he?” Plain Yogurt deadpans as his hand finds a place in the junction between Healer’s shoulder and neck, his presence pressing in from behind. “Cowardice is why you kept trying to crumble me behind his back, isn’t it? A shame none of those attempts ever worked.”

It is like the air itself freezes between them, Healer’s muddled mind momentarily going blank.

“...What?” He chokes out weakly, completely caught off guard. His head automatically tilts towards Plain Yogurt, like it always does when he tries to search for confirmation on something or other.

There is a moment of thick, unbearable silence before Black Raisin finally, finally bites through it with her teeth.

“You!” She barks, a brittle sound that is both harsh and unbearably fragile, her audibly shaking breath acting as punctuation. She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, her words grow wobbly as if she is holding back an angry sob. “Healer, I…”

Black Raisin does not immediately try to refute the accusation. Healer can feel his heart hammering in his own throat. The whine of lasers gathering power reverberates from somewhere.

“I don’t have time for this.” Black Raisin mutters dejectedly, gruff and low, followed by the scratch of her boots against the tiles as she spins around and breaks off into a sprint back the way they came.

Healer hears the retreating footsteps multiple into tens of dozens, hears the screams and panic, sees glimpses of Cookies cradling growing cracks as they beg for him to save them, as they lose hope in him and–

“Wait! Black Raisin!” Healer lurches forwards, reaching a hand out to try and grab her even though she has long since moved out of his range, his own desperation ringing in his ears.

Plain Yogurt’s hand tightens its grip on him, and he is reeled back before he can try and run after Black Raisin in earnest. “Let her go.” He murmurs, rubbing his hand along the length of Healer’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. "It won't do either of you any good to keep talking when you're both stressed."

Healer ignores the attempted comfort in favour of twisting around to face him fully, fumbling before he manages to gather the front of Plain Yogurt’s robes into his fist. It isn’t meant to be a threat. Rather, it is the only thing anchoring Healer as his pitch black world seems to spin.

“Is what you said true?” He asks, his chest aching. The power in his staff thrums lazily as if in response, but he stubbornly ignores that too. “About Black Raisin?”

“I guess she didn’t trust your judgement on me very much.” Plain Yogurt replies softly, evasive and yet an obvious answer in itself.

His judgement. Healer's judgement. The villagers always trust his judgement, but they aren’t the only ones. The last Cookies to trust his judgement, for better or for worse, were–

No—

Healer’s head explodes in spiced pain and he feels cold, right to the tips of his fingers, swaying and collapsing into Plain Yogurt. Smells and sensations and images pop incessantly through his mind, barbed and vengeful, and Healer rejects them all, recoiling, writhing, sinking, sinking, sinking—

Until he, blissfully, enters dark nothingness.

#~6k words of healer fighting for his life against déjà vu. cheers!!#i just think there is some psychological horror in remembering this whole other life that is apparently you #but is so completely detached from what you know as your own life. so.#shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pure vanilla cookie #healer cookie #shadow milk cookie #(← called plain yogurt here you know the drill)#blind man's bluff au #the biscuit library

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kqutie · 6 months ago

Text

EPIC : THE FAIR MAIDEN (not so platonic ver.)

CHAPTER FOUR : THE WASHED-UP STRANGER

relations. : platonic various epic characters/reader -- platonic odysseus/reader ; polites/reader ; platonic eurylochus/reader ; platonic elpenor/reader ; platonic perimedes/reader ; platonic odysseus' crew/reader ; hermes/reader ; poseidon/reader

chpt. sum. : The crew get acquainted with your villagers while you discover a stranger washed up on your sandy beaches. You know exactly what to do... poke, poke, poke!

tags. : reader continues being a disney princess ; female, mute reader ; pure comfort ; animal crossing new horizons game mechanics ; the villagers are here! ; the crew are simps ; poseidon makes an appearance ; poseidon is kinda slimey... ; hermes to the rescue, kinda? ; hermes is still a flirty menace ; protective crew ; very protective odysseus ; poseidon tried to shoot his shot and failed ; isekai and transmigration ; fix it fic ; characters know their future ; happy ending for everyone!

length. : 6.8k

navi. | series m.list

← prev | three : the new island

Marshal hops over, along with Filbert and Poppy, all three squirrels snuggling up to your form in an effort to express how much they missed you. Their affectionate words swirl into a cacophony of voices you hear directly in your mind. Were they communicating with you telepathically?

“How did you all get here?” you ask without a voice, simply keeping the question in your head and experimenting with the communication.

“We’ve always been here, silly. It’s our island home, after all,” Shino adds, coming up to your sitting form and nuzzling her nose into your hair. She looked majestic with her white fur, pink nose and red horns, you can still see the reddish colour brushing the edges of her eyes, highlighting her amber gaze.

“But it’s strange,” Mitzi comments, licking at her paws adorably, “something feels different, somehow, especially after that flying man urged us into the storage shed. Is this really our same island?”

Hermes... you think, supposing they’ve been sent here through him. It makes you wonder if he’s also the reason you arrived. No, that can’t be. He didn’t know of you when you first met, so how could he possibly be responsible for bringing you into this world? Perhaps the appearance of your villagers was a part of his blessing.

“All that matters is that we’re finally together again,” Filbert cuts in, snuggling further into you as the others join with hums of agreement. It makes you smile to see such familiar, sweet faces. You miss their adorable character designs, but it was fascinating to see them as normal animals, though they didn’t quite look the part. Their atypical colouring remained, so they look more like fantasy creatures to you. Perhaps that was fitting; you’ve grown quite the reputation amongst the crew so your villagers’ unusual appearance may lend to them believing that they are your close friends.

“Cha-chomp! We missed you,” Fang snaps his jaws in an almost intimidating display, but you know he’s a sweetheart. Rather than shrink back in fear of his very sharp teeth, you smile and reach up to lovingly scratch at his ear. In his true form, Fang was a menacing size, but his beautiful grey coat looked so fluffy — you couldn’t help cooing at him and the way his ears flicked in delight from your scratches.

“It’s a relief to find you again,” Gaston comments, hopping up to your legs, where he brings a small furry hand up to pat your knee. He’s sweet for saying that but the obvious mustache the yellow rabbit retained was hilarious to you. He’s accompanied by Chrissy, however, who no longer adorns her pink and white polka dot head garment and leggings, leaving her looking like an ordinary white bunny. It was quite unusual, but you suppose they all look unusual without their clothing.

“Don’t laugh! We thought we lost you!” Chrissy, huffs crossing her arms.

“I’m sorry Chrissy, I missed you too,” Chrissy, ever the kind-hearted bunny, immediately unfolds her arms and smiles happily at you. You’ve already been forgiven; she’s never one to hold a grudge.

“If you’re all here, does that mean—” You’re cut off by a hoot, and you look up to smile widely at a familiar-looking pair of owls perched along a tree branch. The owl siblings are accompanied by a pigeon whose feathers make it look as though he has a moustache and is wearing a suit. “Blathers! Celeste! Brewster!” The bushes shake below and out pops Tom Nook, accompanied by Timmy, Tommy, the Able sisters, and Isabelle. Timmy and Tommy looked adorably miniature, standing next to Tom, who stood high and greeted you with a friendly wave. Isabelle also waved at you, her tail contentedly swishing from side to side. “I can’t believe you’re all here,”

“We’d follow you anywhere,” Isabelle comments, and you smile at each other.

“So good to see you, my dear,” Blathers greets with an accompanying hoo.

“Yes yes,” Tom Nook agrees but scratches at his head almost nervously, “but what’s happened to the island?”

Giving him an apologetic look, you try your best to explain, “I’m sorry Tom, I know it looks quite different, but I assure you that everything’s okay. It’s well taken care of, we actually have an amazing amount of visitors settled here currently.”

“Oh?” Tom and Isabelle share a proud look. “That’s brilliant! Business is booming!” You giggle at his words and nod along, happy to have settled him down.

“Have you seen the stars? They’re so beautiful tonight!” Celeste comments and you look up in anticipation for any shooting stars but there are none. There was an unusually still, opaque cloud hovering above you, however. Peculiar…

“I suppose they do look extra bright tonight.” Looking around, you smile at the sight of everyone and slowly stand with your squirrel friends still tucked up in your arms. “How about we have a sleepover at my place?” you suggest, earning a cheer from everyone.

“Hoo-Hoo! That would be lovely!” Blathers comments, a dreading look overcoming him for a moment, “I do so hate the outdoors but can’t find my museum anywhere!”

“Mi casa es tu casa,” you invite them all inside as Marshal shivers in excitement before pulling a smug look.

“I see you’ve picked up some of my speech habits. Of course you would. I’m quite the influencer. And you’re too kind, Sulky, thank you.” Marshal instantly recognised the phrase you used and wiggled in happiness from his positive impact.

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The next morning, you make your way to the crew with breakfast already prepared and stored from your home kitchen. All animals trail along behind you, eager to meet the new friends you told them of the night before and this morning: all 600 men of Odysseus’ fleet. It might be overwhelming for them at first, but you know that their sweet disposition will make them fast friends with the crew. Hopefully, the men wouldn’t be too put off by your villagers’ odd colours. The only normal-looking villagers you have are Fauna, Chrissy, Fang and the Nook family.

“Fair Maiden!” came a shout, and you turn to gasp at the image of Odysseus aiming his bow and arrow at Fang (a large, grey wolf) while Eurylochus points his large sword at Boots (your gym-bro alligator). Rushing forward, you open your arms out in defence, shielding your harmless villagers from harm. If you could shout in protest, you would, but all you could manage is a frightful look that immediately makes the two lower their guard ever so slightly.

“Wh-wha—?” Odysseus voices, unable to comprehend what’s happening, but Polites rushes to your side, opening his arms beside you. He knows exactly what you’re trying to convey.

“Captain! The Fair Maiden doesn’t want these animals harmed!” Polites’ voice is loud and firm, an immediate assurance to you that he was on your side, no questions asked, “Please lower your weapons!”

“But—!” Eurylochus tries to protest, knowing the potential danger that you could be in. Seeing the conflict in the sword-wielding man’s eyes, you shake your head insistently and gesture to your villagers and yourself before pointing between you and Polites. Everyone then watches as you end your non-verbal statement by tucking yourself into Polites’ chest, who wordlessly wraps his arms around you, his resolve solidified. It’s easy to understand what you want to express.

“See? She’s trying to say that these animals are her friends. Please do not harm them.” Polites voices for you, bringing a smile to your face. You kiss his jaw and hug him tightly to show your gratitude. Polites’ cheeks bloom with a radiant blush but he doesn’t draw attention to it, not even when Odysseus and Eurylochus give him a teasing smirk. The two finally lower their weapons and apologise with a bow of their heads.

“We apologise sincerely for over-reacting and causing you distress, Fair Maiden. We won’t bring harm to your animal friends, I assure you,” Odysseus looks at you, his eyes flooded with resolve to keep his word.

“A-are you sure they’re friendly? They don’t seem it at all,” Poppy squeaks and hops over to your leg, hugging your ankle in her short height as her sweet face presses into the folds of your skirt. She’s joined by Filbert, who hugs your opposite ankle with a tearful whimper on his lips.

“S-so scary...”

“How unusual,” Odysseus observes, taking in Poppy and Filbert’s unusually coloured fur. He quickly moves on to observe the strange appearance of the other animals that have followed you as well. Some looked normal, some looked magical, and then there was a yellow bunny who looked like he had a very thick moustache, and Odysseus had to stifle his laughter.

“They are not like any other creatures I’ve seen before…” Eurylochus adds as the rest of the crew strain their necks to get a look, all of them humming in agreement as soon as they realise how different the animals appear. They coo over your squirrel villagers, Chrissy, Mitzi and Fauna, for their sweet appearance. They gasp in wonder at Shino’s divine being. They shudder at Fang and Boots’ intimidating presence. And many had to stifle their laughter when seeing Gaston’s prominent moustache as well.

“No wonder you protect and care for them,” Polites comments, looking down at you with a kind smile. “Are they also as otherworldly as you?” his words make you look away bashfully, earning a laugh from the headband-wearing third commander. At least he managed to get you back for flustering him only moments earlier. That soft kiss isn’t escaping his mind any time soon.

“We’ll make sure your animal friends don’t come to any harm,” Eurylochus assures, setting out to warn the back of the crew himself after you introduce him and the first few rows of the Odysseus’ men to your villagers and the other occupants of the island: Blathers and Celeste snoozing away in a nearby tree while Brewster keeps a close eye on them; the able sister nestled together adorably in the bushes; Tom Nook travelling together with Timmy and Tommy, who’ve climbed onto his back. To surmise, all animals that aren’t fish or bugs are under your protection.

After that frightful first impression, you’re happy to find the crew getting along with your villagers and vice versa. Your animal friends are truly so friendly; it’s in their nature to be kind, so it took no time at all for them to find new friends in the crew. It was a fun sight to see. The villagers still tended to gravitate towards you, however. And it took a while for the crew to get used to seeing such animals keeping you company, usually finding them trailing close behind you, the squirrels often hopping about your feet as you walked by.

At times, it was heartwarming to see you interact with the cute animals. A beautiful lady, smiling, cooing and petting the sweet furry creatures was an image that had soul-healing properties. It made you feel all the more magical to them, floating about the island with a sweet deer following after you with adorable squirrels and bunnies close behind. However, it was more than unnerving to witness you being accompanied by a large grey wolf, a snapping alligator and an albino deer with pointed, red horns, an uncustomary appearance for such a graceful species. This was an initial fear you treated by showcasing how friendly and sweet Fang, Boots and Shino actually were.

Waving Perimedes over, you smile brightly as he brings Elpenor with him. The two were truly inseparable.”Y-yes, Fair Maiden?” Perimedes asks nervously, eyeing Fang and Boots, who flanked your sides and quite politely so. Though that didn’t matter to Perimedes or Elpenor; all they saw were teeth, teeth and more teeth!

“That one looks like he goes to the gym!” Boots praises Elpenor as he happily gazes at the man’s broad frame. Unfortunately, Elpenor wasn’t aware that the alligator’s interested gaze was one of admiration and not of hunger, and he tenses up in fear.

“You want us to make friends with them?” Fang asks, holding back his excitement as his tail begins to swish behind him in happiness. “Cha-chomp!” Fang snaps his jaws gleefully, unaware of his effect on the fearful, slightly shaking Perimedes, “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours!”

Taking Perimedes’ hand with the utmost care, you slowly bring his sweaty palm and shaking fingers to Fang’s soft fur. Fang’s delighted response is instantaneous. The large wolf leans into Perimedes’ touch and urges him to continue petting and scratching his ear with a tilt of his head.

“Oh...” Perimedes releases the breath he was holding and laughs in relief, eagerly scratching at Fang’s ear. The smile that grows on the blonde’s face is contagious.

“That’s a good scratch. Mmm~ A little to the left please...” Fang snaps his jaws happily, leaning further into Perimedes’ hand, who quickly grows accustomed to Fang’s habit of chomping his jaws to express his happiness.

“Good boy,” Perimedes whispers, his gaze softening with fondness. He’s made a new friend.

One down, one to go. You look at Elpenor, who seems to be having a staring contest with Boots. Behind him, Boots’ tail swishes from side to side, and you smile at his eagerness to make a new friend, too. Gently, you also take Elpenor’s hand and softly coax him into petting Boot’s head. The look you give Elpenor says everything he needs to know to follow your lead with confidence and trust in your actions. ’Everything will be okay,’ your eyes say to him.

“I-If you think it’s safe, Fair Maiden...” Elpenor nods and allows himself to be guided into petting Boots, who eagerly leans into his touch.

“His hands are calloused and strong!” Boots observes with a toothy smile, “That is evidence of his prowess in the gym! I think we’ll make good friends!”

“It seems everyone has a favourite!” Odysseus laughs, walking up to you as he’s accompanied by both Fauna and Shino. He looks at them fondly, “Curious how an archer has become good friends with deers of all creatures.” Fauna nudges his hand with her nose, urging him to pet her as Shino playfully butts her horns against his forearm. Odysseus complies by rubbing at the base of her horns and succumbing to Fauna’s gently prompt for pets, “It seems I’ve found their weak spot.” You smile at the easy expression that takes over Odysseus’ countenance. In the days that pass, you find that the crew have grown an eagerness for petting your villagers, who make no complaints; they love the attention and the company of new friends. The crew smile more easily and laugh much lighter than ever before. You liken it to the effect therapy animals have on veterans.

The hardened men can often be found taking care of and spending time with your villagers in various ways. It’s also clear that many have their personal favourites, as the captain had helpfully observed for you.

Odysseus is often followed around by Fauna and Shino. Fauna, your sweet and graceful deer with her gentle disposition, reminds him of the elegance his wife, Penelope, often holds herself with. Shino, however, makes him think of his son; she’s more playful and adventurous compared to Fauna, much like his boy, Telemachus. Their presence is familiar, but also not. Nevertheless, they gave Odysseus some much-needed comfort and vice versa. Fauna and Shino adore being treated with such care and especially love the stories he tells them absentmindedly, his guard lowered by their presence.

Eurylochus, you’re surprised to see, has become good friends with your trio of squirrel villagers. All three have expressed to you how much they enjoy resting on his shoulders and even his head as he walks around. His height makes them feel tall and powerful! Marshal likens it to being perched on a walking tree. Poppy simply loves curling up in his large hand. She tells you it makes for the perfect bed to rest comfortably in. It also helps that Eurylochus often feeds them a share of his fruit rations. Filbert loves it especially; he’s a great lover of food. The tall, intimidating second commander can be seen resting against a tree as the three squirrels play about his gently smiling form. He looks at peace, fondly watching as they play around and on him — he’s become their personal playground.

“You feed them too much, friend,” Polites laughs while passing by with Mitzi in his arms. “I’m afraid that blue one will become too chubby.” It seems everyone’s picked up on Filbert’s food-loving tendencies.

“But don’t you think they look especially cute with their chubby cheeks chewing away at the fruit? It feels even more satisfying when I feed them by hand,” Eurylochus points out, and the two admire the way the three small squirrels eagerly stuff their faces with slices of apples Eurylochus hands them, making their cheeks puff up adorably.

“I suppose you’re right.” Polites grins and sits beside Eurylochus with Mitzi in his lap.

“I see you’re a cat person,” Eurylochus smirks at his friend.

“I’ve always been a cat person,” the two share a laugh.

Mitzi and Polites have a very calming friendship. The two often fall asleep together wherever they may be. It all starts when Mitzi sits herself in Polites’ lap, and the kind third commander can’t help but coo and pet her adoringly. When enough time passes, Mitzi can be found gently purring in his lap as Polites lightly snores over her, the two of them finding the best rest in each other’s company.

Elpenor has grown a bond with Boots, thanks to your introductions. Boots had even helped him prank other crew members by patiently lurking in the bath waters and jumping out with a snap of his powerful jaws when a group of crew members came in to take their baths. Elpenor was chased around by those few traumatised men, but he found the prank worth the trouble. He laughed the entire time he was chased about. Perimedes was commonly seen with Fang, the two having immediately bonded thanks to you. They enjoyed each other’s company no matter what they may be doing together, whether it’s fishing, sitting around, sleeping under the sun or eating, they’ve become the best of friends. Together, the four of them have become quite the fearsome quartet.

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

“Look! What’s that?!” a crew member shouts, and you look to see them pointing up at something in the sky. “It’s a bird!”

“No, it’s a floating red thing carrying a white box!” The helpful description provided by Lycaon makes you pull out your slingshot and take aim. You fire at the balloon three times, but it’s no use, and you watch as the balloon floats further away. With a huff, you shake your head miserably. Why were shooting balloons always so difficult for you? It’s even more difficult now that you’re having to shoot it down in real life. Before the balloon could get too far away, however, an arrow helpfully shoots it down for you. The shooter was Odysseus, who slings his bow over his head and wears it while bringing the gift box over to you. Smiling gratefully, you open the gift before handing him its contents.

“For me?” Odysseus asks, surprised, as he points to himself. You nod, and rather than urge the gift into his hands, you place the purple hyacinth crown onto his head instead. It matches his purple toga. Odysseus laughs and affectionately pats your head as Fauna and Shino prance about around you in celebration. “Thank you.” He silently vows take special care of your gift. He hopes it never wilts.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’ve already made the dresses and more for Penelope and Ctimene following Odysseus and Eurylochus’ request, and now you were collecting pretty shells for a little something extra. It would be nice for Odysseus and Eurylochus to craft something personally for their wives too, something pretty to gift them when they arrive home again. It’s not an official recipe you know from ACNH, but it’s a simple craft. An unfussy but heartfelt accessory showcasing the pretty seashell collected from your island’s shores, lovingly prepared for their beautiful wives to wear. How romantic would that be?~ You want to help Ody and Eury be good husbands,so today, you’re trying to find the prettiest seashells for them to craft into necklaces or bracelets.

“My Fair Maiden,” Polites calls, approaching you on the beach with a kind smile, the ends of his headband swimming in the sea breeze. “What are you up to out here?” he looks at the small collection of sea shells you’ve managed to collect so far, your hands carefully cradling the precious beach decorations. “Those are very beautiful.” he admires your selection, leaning forward ever so slightly as he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. When he straightens again, Polites softens his voice as he looks at you with a fond stare. “May I join you? I’ll help as best as I can.” Unable to say no, you nod your head instantly. It would be nice to have company, anyway, and Polites was always good company. For a while, you two collect sea shells together with only the waves. There were a lot of shells available, but you were very selective about which ones you kept. Playing ACNH on your switch made the seashells look identical to one another, but now that you were looking at them personally and not in a game, each one was distinct and unique in its own way. Yes, there were similarly shaped ones, but looking closely, they were all very different. It was fascinating, and the adoration was visible on your face.

That admiring visage of you as you stare down at the shells was something that Polites couldn’t help but admire. You’re too precious. How could he not feel for you? He loves it, especially when you find a particularly beautiful shell and run to share your discovery with him. You’re the good in the world that makes life worthwhile. Once again, the two of you split up to look for more shells separately. Polites looks into the distance when a glimmer catches his eye and moves to collect the shimmering glass bottle buried in the sand. There was a trinket inside that looked like something you would know what to do with better than him, so he kept the bottle closed and immediately returned to you.

“I don’t have a shell but...” Polites offers the glass bottle sheepishly, not knowing what to expect from your reaction. With a silent gasp, you store away your collected, approved shells and clap in glee, happily receiving the bottle from Polites before hugging him as thanks. Polites laughs and hugs you back, his strong arms wrapping around you tightly as he buries his nose into your hair, where he affectionately presses a kiss into your crown. With you around, the harrowing memories and scars he acquired in the war are pushed far behind him. You bring a rare and precious peaceful quietness. And Polites can confidently say you have the same effect for Odysseus, Eurylochus and the crew too. You’re truly a blessing.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Poseidon has felt a strange disturbance in his ocean for quite some time now. It wasn’t threatening nor dangerous, so he didn’t initially feel the need to investigate. However, the disruption to his waters has remained such a prominent irritation to the point that he could no longer resist ignoring it. He sets off to investigate the peculiarity in the early morning, hoping to finish his search as soon as possible.

When he approaches, Poseidon raises a brow. He doesn’t remember such a large island being located in this part of his ocean. It’s not even one he recognises; he’s never seen such greenery or landscapes. Suddenly, there’s movement behind the trees lining the perimeter of the island, beyond the shady beaches, and the sea god ducks into the ocean. Perhaps glimpsing a creature that occupies the island will give him some idea of its mysterious origins.

Stepping out of the tree line, you move to the sands to continue your sea shell search for Odysseus and Eurylochus just before you meet the crew for breakfast, blissfully unaware of the fascinated stare pinning you down from the God of the sea. As Poseidon stays hidden amongst the waves, he smirks to himself, his eyes tracing your delicious curves, sweetly dressed in the loveliest dress he’s ever seen. He appreciates your silhouette thoroughly until his gaze finally lands on your beautiful face. What a beauty you are. Such a fine treasure he’s found within his ocean. He should have investigated the mysterious island sooner. You appear so sweet and kind too, delicately picking up different seashells, appearing very selective of which ones you should keep for your precious hoard.

The new island no longer annoys him for disrupting his oceans; rather, Poseidon has found something else to be intrigued by. And he’s determined to make you his.

You don’t know how much time you spend picking seashells, but when you look up, all thoughts of your mounting sea shell collection are forgotten. On the shore was a washed-up man in nothing but a simple cloth wrapped around his waist. His brown hair is long and wet from the salty ocean water, his skin a healthy sun-kissed colour, and his muscles prominently sculpted. From what little glimpses you see of his face hidden behind the strands of hair that fall over his features, you can tell that he’s handsome with a light shadow of stubble shaping his jaw. As you approach him, unaware of his intentions and very conscious state, Poseidon wills his features to stay undisturbed. A fair maiden such as yourself will surely wake him gently and with a sweet voice; when he pretends to finally rouse from sleep, he’ll work his charms to lure you into a passionate night together. He will enjoy you thoroughly and savour your sweet sounds, for an angel like you is capable of creating nothing but dulcet tones.

Poseidon has gravely misjudged you, however. As soon as you were kneeling beside him, rather than gently seduce him out of his slumber and kindly ask about his wellbeing in the soft voice he imagined you to have, you begin to incessantly poking at his cheek instead. It was completely unexpected, and he couldn’t help the annoying twitch of his brow. The subtle action makes you temporarily stop your ceaseless prodding. But before Poseidon could breathe in respite, you start poking him again, this time, with much more force and speed. If he wasn’t a god, he’s sure you’d have made the skin of his cheek bruise already. Is this really how you go about waking an injured man?! It’s not at all what Poseidon expected, ignorant to your experience with washed-up seagull pirates. The only way you knew to wake Gulliver (the seagull pirate) or Gullivarrr (the seagull pirate captain) was to constantly pester them, which obviously meant poking their unconscious forms until they wake up.

“I’m awake! I��m awake!” Poseidon sits up with an irritated grumble, swatting at your hand and squinting his eyes at you. He’s sorely misjudged you. Perhaps he should leave?

(Distantly, a giggle can be heard, and your ears perk up ever so slightly.)

However, Poseidon is struck once again by your beauty. Up close, you’re stunning, especially when you’re smiling so kindly at him and him alone. Because of your bewitching image, Poseidon was willing to forget about your rude, unending poking.

“What a beauty you are...” the handsome stranger’s brown eyes examine your face, slowly tracing your features with his eyes as he slowly brings a hand up to cup your cheek. His touch was so unexpected that you startle ever so slightly. The stranger appears to take pleasure in your surprise however, chuckling to himself as his hand leaves your cheek to pick up your hand and bring your knuckles to his lips, “Tell me,” his lips don’t leave your skin as he looks up to meet your eyes with an impassioned stare, “what is your name, my lady?”

Smiling apologetically, you shake your head and point to your throat. “Oh? You cannot speak?”Poseidon frowns as you confirm his supposition with a nod. He was so looking forward to hearing your voice and relishing in the beautiful melody you would sing for him under his touch.

“No matter.” Poseidon eventually accepts the fact and leans forward, inching his face close to yours as you lean back slightly. “I remain grateful to you for saving my life.” the stranger’s eyes briefly glances down at your prettily shaped lips, “Allow me to convey my gratitude,” your eyes widen as the bold stranger closes the gap between you, managing to brush his lips against your own before you’re swept up by a pair of strong arms that fly you into the air. Gasping silently, you wrap your arms over your captor’s shoulders and push your face into his neck, fearful of the height he’s flown you to.

“I should have known you were nothing but trouble~” A familiar voice teases as a pair of lips press a kiss against your temple. Hermes! Pulling away, you gape at the Messenger god who smugly grins at you. His arms carry you like a princess, ensuring that your dress doesn’t fall and reveal more of yourself to the men below. “Not only have you entrapped me, but you’ve captured the attention of my Uncle as well.” his words make your brows fly up in surprise before you hurriedly look down and gasp once more at the scene happening below. His uncle?! Did he mean...?

Odysseus is pissed. You had taken longer than usual to meet everyone for breakfast, and they had grown anxious about your whereabouts. Initially, your safety wasn’t much of a concern as they knew your island to be incredibly safe; however, those foolish thoughts were immediately swept away as soon as they found you at the beach with a stranger, who was getting far too close for comfort.

“Allow me to convey my gratitude.” At those exact words, Odysseus had fired his arrow, narrowly missing the strange man’s feet. It was a warning shot. Odysseus wasn’t one to miss his target, especially not one that is so unsuspecting and easy, but he would endanger you if he aimed straight at the man — you were far too close to him, and Odysseus didn’t want to risk you getting injured too.

“Captain!” Polites points him towards your form up in the air and in the arms of another familiar god, “The Fair Maiden is safe,” his third commander hands him another arrow, “You’re free to take a second shot.” Polites’ voice grows chilly, deprived of his characteristically warm friendliness. He generally wasn’t the type to encourage such mercilessness, rather, he would have encouraged everyone to hear out the stranger. But Odysseus won’t complain; he knows the level of affection Polites and the rest of his crew had fostered for you — of course, this level of protectiveness was to be expected.

“Aim for his throat,” Eurylochus strategised, his tone stern and calculating as he readies his sword, “While he chokes on his blood, I’ll move in to severe his head clean off his shoulders.” Odysseus didn’t appreciate being ordered around most of the time, but he didn’t mind it for right now. At least you were safe for the moment. He’ll deal with Hermes later.

“Wait! Wait!” Odysseus freezes in place, along with everyone else who recognises the plea from the musical quite some time ago but still remember it so vividly. The same musical that had revealed their potential future had made it easy to recognise such a voice. It couldn’t be…

The stranger’s very human features slowly melt away to reveal the God of the sea. The man’s brown hair becomes an opaque black as the skin of his neck grows gills and his ears become fin-shaped. The cloth around his waist falls away to reveal the beginnings of a fishtail. Looking down, his tail can be seen seamlessly merging with the ocean waves lapping at the sandy beach, which pulls him into the ocean and stands him tall, held up by the sea below.

“Poseidon...” Eurylochus acknowledges as everyone takes on a battle stance behind him, their faces weary but determined.

“You made an oath not to interfere with my journey home!” Odysseus snaps at the sea god. His words making Poseidon grit his teeth in annoyance.

“I know...”

“Why aren’t you keeping it?”

“I am keeping it! You have had easy oceans so far, and when you set out to sea again for the rest of your journey home, they will be safe also. The girl is different; she has no association with you—” The look Odysseus sends him makes the god stammer ever so slightly. You are associated with Odysseus. What a mistake this was.

“If you touch her, you will be interfering with our journey home. She is our Fair Maiden and has been a wondrous blessing on our voyage so far! Touch her, and you’ll be breaking your oath!”

Poseidon looks up to see you in the arms of his nephew, whose usually smiling countenance disappears as soon as they meet eyes. You are a precious being not only to the man who tormented him in a potential future but are also held dearly by his nephew. This doesn’t spell well. You appeared to be such an innocent lady; how did things turn out to be like this?

“She’s off limits, uncle.” Hermes states firmly, his arms tightening their hold on you, “And she has my blessing. I’m sure you know what that means...” Even Hermes’ words make Odysseus and the crew’s eyes widen in shock. Just as surprised as Poseidon. When did Hermes bless you? Had you been associated with the Messenger god this whole time?

“Fine!” Poseidon concedes, his reluctant acceptance punctuated by the momentary violent action of the ocean waves below, “I will leave you be.” As he disappears into the sea, Poseidon gives you one last, longing glance. Yet again, he was at a loss. How disappointing…

As soon as Poseidon vanishes into the ocean’s depths, you look to Hermes with a smile, a small thank you for his help. “You’re very welcome, darling~” he coos but appears reluctant to let you go. It isn’t until Odysseus and the crew have fixed their eyes on you that he finally descends. “My my~ what a surprising turn of events.” Hermes brings a light-hearted air with him, doing his best to distract the crew so he can keep you in his arms for longer. He quite likes the feel of you tucked up against his chest and solely held up by his strength as your arms wrap around his neck. You look very adorable this close to him, your head easily tucked up under his chin.

“Thank you, Hermes,” Odysseus smiles gratefully to the god. He was one of the only gods to be of help to him in the musical, and it appears he’s sustaining that reputation. It only irks the King of Ithaca that Hermes seems to have made contact with you already, without him or anyone else knowing, and given you his blessing.

“Don’t thank me, friend~” Hermes turns his full attention to you, gently setting you down, “I didn’t do it for you particularly...”

‘Thank you for your help, Hermes,’ you voice in your head, knowing the god can hear your words clearly.

“Of course, my fair lady~” Levitating several inches above the ground, Hermes bows graciously at the waist for you, smiling an easy smile. “But don’t you suppose that I should be rewarded for my efforts?” he teases, offering his cheek for you to kiss. That was his reward. His actions make Odysseus splutter in disbelief as several crew members, Polites and Eurylochus especially, do their best to keep their protests behind clenched teeth, silently begging you not to yield to the god.

As you give him a skeptical look, Hermes laughs. He planned to shrug it off, knowing that he wouldn’t have received anything from you. He even made the effort not to ask you for a kiss outright, knowing the disadvantage mortals have against a god’s will. Hermes only meant to get a rise out of the crowding audience, his devious nature wouldn’t permit him to leave otherwise. However, he was surprised when, rather than wave his silly request away, you place your hands on his shoulders, stabilising yourself first before closing your eyes and gently puckering your lips, aiming for his offered cheek — a cheek kiss was innocent enough.

What a pleasant surprise~ Hermes grins deviously.

Taking the opportunity, Hermes wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly close—to the point where you can feel his toned muscles far too sensitively. Once securely in his arms, he tilts his head to meet your lips with his own, shooting the two of you up into the air as he does so. He likes an audience, but he’s sure you wouldn’t be the biggest fan. Nor will you be happy if he lingers above the crew such that they could look up your dress skirt so he pulls you with him to perch atop one of your lush trees, far from the crew. Your surprised gasp gives him the perfect opportunity to steal more of your breath away. His tongue swoops in and pulls yours into a heated dance as his hand trails up to press against the back of your head and deepen your embrace. Unable to resist, you fall deeply into the kiss, reciprocating with your heart racing in your chest as heat crawls up your neck to settle over your cheeks. How is he such a good kisser? His lips, his arms and hands confine you to him, making the rest of the world disappear — you’ve barely registered that you’re no longer on the beach but rather cradled in the branches of a tree with him.

Odysseus and the crew were too shocked to react as they were left behind. The last image of you that they saw were your lips connecting with Hermes’s own. Their nerves had been frozen up from being in the presence of two gods and at such close proximity, but those same nerves were quickly thawed by the heat of their rage. Immediately, they go searching for you, not needing to look for long as they see you lying against Hermes in the branches of a tree not too far into the island.

“My my~” Hermes pants after pulling away, smirking at your breathlessness and unwilling to let you go. The mischievous nature in him spots the infuriated crew in his periphery and immediately decides to play with them. Levitating the two of you once more, he dangles you before the crew tauntingly before slowly descending, your feet finally touching solid ground again, but his arms remain secure around you. The crew doesn’t dare jump forth and bring you to safety, no matter how much they want to, especially when Hermes dares to giggle at them. Spurred on by the fury on their faces, Hermes dips you down and nuzzles his nose into the base of your neck, his eyes pinning the crew down sharply while his lips tenderly kiss the soft skin of your upper chest area, “you taste divine, darling~ So sweet. Just like the first time...”

Odysseus choked on air as his eyes bulged out. “THE FIRST TIME?!”

Hermes laughs and lifts into the air slightly, bringing you with him and making you twirl with your arm raised and your feet lifted several inches off the ground. He pulls you back in again, just as tightly as before, emphasising his affection for you. “This certainly won’t be the last time, either.” he looks into your rounded, glittering eyes, cooing in adoration at your precious image. Everything was happening so fast that you could barely comprehend it all, your mind still stuck on processing the kiss you shared with the mischievous god. “You’re truly far too tempting for your own good. I’m but a hungry, helpless beast at your service, my lady.” Hermes finally (finally!) sets you down and bows, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles before finally biding his farewells for the time being.

When you finally turn around, Odysseus had come dangerously close, his eyes wild with barely restrained rage and stern protectiveness. “You have some explaining to do, young lady.”

But…But I can’t talk! You wail internally, pulling a helpless expression, but Odysseus is undeterred. Hermes… you jerk!

navi. | series m.list

next | five. the journey home →

a/n : once again, I couldn't stop writing until I finished, even if it means sleeping at 3am -- but I'm just as addicted as anyone else to this series so... here you darlings go... i'm going to bed now!

For those of you who need/want the reminder, these are my villagers: Fauna ; Shino ; Poppy ; Filbert ; Marshal ; Chrissy ; Fang ; Boots ; Gaston ; Mitzi

taglist : @bluepanda08 @doodle-with-rhy @sunshinedaisy21 @jolixtreesunn @ellaprime7 @marcelemry @nishayuro @hijinkxy @kerosene-demon @windrosesrasta @keikeiluvyou @darling-eos @iamapotatoe @yuzxi18 @woncloudie

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sophiethewitch1 · 10 months ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 8 - Jason Fucking Todd

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Well, look on the bright side of things. You’re not crying right now. That’s nice. You’re not an intern anymore. That’s nice. You struggle to think of anything else. Oh yeah, you’re rich! That’s also nice. You’re not dead. Nice.

This is kind of pathetic. You just feel bummed after having to break up with George a second time. And getting smacked right in the face by him. Which you know, anybody would be, you think. You don’t think a single soul has ever known the George Lancaster Break-Up Special more than once. And you didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that asshole more than once.

You couldn’t fake a brave face anymore, you just didn’t have the energy for it.

…And let’s not forget almost dying via Joker goon. Not even the man himself, just a random lackey. You think of how he literally disappeared in front of your eyes, and decide you are going to stop thinking. It’s doing you no good anyway.

Instead, you just start walking. Letting your feet and your intimate knowledge of Gotham’s streets, even in this area you don’t often frequent, guide you. You find yourself at the train station. With little consideration, you buy a ticket to the southern part of the city. The bad side of town, the docks, where your apartment used to be.

You feel like a little rat scurrying back into the sewers as you hop on the subway, tucking yourself in between people who don’t recognise you, probably because of your general dishevelment.

Shoulders knocking against strangers, you feel the most at home since this whole disaster started. You stare across the train car, watching a baby babble to its mother. It catches your eye, gives you a big toothless smile, and some snot dribbles into it’s mouth. The mother notices and cleans the baby up with a tissue. When she catches you staring, you give a very awkward but friendly smile, and she smiles back.

A tiny weight lifts off your shoulders. Surrounded by the chaos of Gotham, as the subway exits the tunnels and heads up onto the sky rails, you find yourself warm by the rays of sun through the clouds. The view is beautiful, as it always is. Usually, you’d be looking at your phone, too busy to enjoy the sights. But it really is beautiful.

It’s only when you hear the announcer calling out that you realise you did this for a reason, and dart out of your seat and through the narrowly closing doors. The metal closes behind you with a small hiss. The Docks station, for most people, would be one of the better Gotham train stations. Newly built, and with all the tourist money it was clean. Well, clean as it could get. You’d read some article about the bacteria the rats were carrying being not found anywhere else on earth, and you’d decided to stop reading articles.

Anyway, for you, even the shining marble of the station was a sad sight. Because you only ever came here on your very worst days.

This seemed like one of them.

The familiar streets flit past you, barely something you’re even cognisant of. This part of the city was mostly new, the concrete fresh under your feet instead of littered with potholes. Still, it wasn’t at the centre of the blast radius, so it hadn’t been totally demolished.

No, that was just up ahead. And like everything else in this weird new world, you immediately noticed something different. Where your family had died was… still there, for some reason.

With confusion, exhaustion, and no small bit of despair, you stop in the middle of the pathway outside the remnants of what used to be an old diner and was now just a pile of rocks. Some very charred rocks. Looking at the wreckage, you raise your brows. Its crumbling form is still under construction after all these years. The yellow caution tape is only a deterrence to you because you don’t want to end up on the gossip reels for a second time today. Looking around, you find yourself further confused. Lots of other parts of the pier had been redeveloped, but this piece of the puzzle still lay bare.

It didn’t, in your home, your world. It had been replaced with high-rise apartments, and since they were so close to the water, so pretty and new, you had no hope of affording them. It probably wouldn’t be very good for your mental health even if you could. Still, you’d taken many walks past the street. Enjoyed the little bit of dirty white concrete that had survived. You and your siblings had signed your names into it, and you’d stroked the sidewalk like the weirdo you were many times.

Like you did today. And today, for some reason, the rest of it was here. Untouched. A remnant of the disaster. As you run your thumb along the sharp edge of Julie’s J, you find yourself once again lost in your memories. They were like honey traps to you these days.

The mum-and-pops diner had been run by your uncle. It’d been in the family for three generations, and he was incorrigibly proud of it. You’d all had your birthday parties there, because it was free and you were poor. It wasn’t like your uncle would let you pay for the food anyway, it was just one of the few times Mum could stand the generosity. She didn’t like it when you had disappointing birthdays, and no matter how much you tried to fake your happiness, she could always see to your core. Eventually, you and your siblings all gave up on trying.

You were late. You were often late, but this time it was… it was the difference between life and death. If you’d been a few blocks further, a little bit earlier, you’d probably be dead too. Or at least have some serious hearing loss instead of just suffering mild tinnitus.

You had felt more than seen the destruction. The earth had rumbled, and a deafening roar had swept through the streets. You remember falling to your knees, the worry about being late morphing to worry for your best clothes to a true terror when you realised where the blast had come from.

When you realised your family was in the epicentre.

You sometimes wish you were on time that day. That you’d gotten to see them all, even if you went with them. It didn’t sound so bad, really. At least you wouldn’t be alone. Hmm, you should probably stop thinking like that. Or maybe go to a therapist about it.

Not that you could afford it. Oh, right. Rich now. That was really taking some getting used to.

You wonder if people who won the lottery felt the same way. Probably not, because the rest of the world reflected the changes the person felt. They’d have to go pick up the check, go to the bank, and if they let their family and friends know, deal with the consequences of that.

You’d just woken up rich. No time to adjust, your new life was here and it was demanding your attention very loudly. And soup-ly, unfortunately. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the rubble, you look towards your left, where you know the Memorial awaits you. It’s in the centre of the new shopping district, built on top of the bombed parts of Gotham. It sits right next to the water, the cold breeze a comfort that you’d turned to on more than one occasion.

You’d feel bad if you didn’t change your clothes. You told Grayson you would, and you already felt bad enough about... everything to do with him. You suppose he was your brother. Your ex-brother. Ex-step-brother. The ex-step-brother of a woman who you weren’t.

Really, he was just a stranger. It seemed he didn’t feel that way, though.

You start the walk towards the shopping district, and into the first clothes store you see. The prices on the tags would usually make you flinch, but well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing seems to matter. Your survival is now guaranteed, might as well wear some clothes that feel nice on your skin.

You walk out of that store looking like you just robbed it. Even the clerk had given you a weird look but accepted the black card tucked in your phone without much complaint. It’s an improvement if a small one.

Once you’re done, like a moth to a flame, you drift towards the Memorial centre. You’re following all the steps you used to in the past, but somehow, it all feels a bit alien. The world looks a little different, a little uncomfortable. Your shoes are worn in, and yet they still feel too tight.

Uncanny valley. You feel unwelcomed here, unwanted. Like the very earth can tell that there’s something wrong in this scene, some intruder. You ignore the feeling as best you can.

The Memorial is just as unfamiliar as the diner was, maybe even more. You know that your mother was a Wayne before she died. You know that. But still seeing your family’s framed photos, right alongside Jason's is so shocking you nearly jump. It takes a moment of wide-eyed staring before you can manage to get past that. When you do, for some reason you still go back to your old habits. You walk by them, the bouquets and to where their names used to be in thin letters.

You count with your fingers, finding the fifty-second line.

A man’s name replaces the spot where your mother’s is. The little grooves the oil in your fingers had left behind were gone, and instead was sharp stone like when the monument was first erected. It cuts at your fingers. It no longer welcomes your touch.

James Whitaker. That’s the name of the man who took their spot.

You can already feel a rising obsession with the random dead man. If you were going to psycho-analyse yourself, you’d recognise that you didn’t feel that the images of the Waynes you’d created were no longer real, no longer safe to your escapist mindset. You’d realise, that this was all pretty unhealthy, and you really, really needed therapy.

Instead, you give the guy your condolences and start reading the other plinths. They seem largely the same. It’s not like you hadn’t read all of these towers of stone at one point or another, your eyes glazing over the many, many names. So much devastation, all in one moment.

And still, this was not even a tenth of all the lives the Joker had taken. You kinda wanna go take a kick at one of the Bat signals littered around the city. Maybe that’d make you less… broiling with incompetent rage.

Again, maybe you should just go to therapy. You should call Jeanine about that or something.

Eventually, you circle back to your family and Jason’s shrines. You know, back then you’d been jealous that Jason Todd had been so well mourned. You’d wished your family had gotten the same treatment.

Now, you… felt jealous again. Possessive, over their memory, their image. You didn’t really like that random strangers that never knew them… knew them. That Sam always got As in English and Art class but would sometimes skip math and would hide in the bathrooms to do so. That Chasey had struggled with going to school because of her anxiety but kept going because she had a friend going through the exact same thing. That Julie was the ace of her school’s soccer team, and that she’d almost gotten them to nationals even in the presence of all the super-rich schools in Gotham. That your Mum was a great cook but genuinely hated doing it, but for some reason, baking was her favourite thing even as she had never made a proper macaron.

They didn’t know them. They knew their faces and a facsimile of them, but they didn’t know them. It reminded you of the people at the orphanage. Nice, but not kind. They’d had their own lives, they didn’t want some bratty, demented teenager who was going down and planning on taking everyone with her.

You really couldn’t be happy, could you? Maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. What you want now. What you’d wanted for a while, actually.

Ugh. You close your eyes and let out a deep, soul-shaking sigh. It takes a moment for you to shore up the willpower to open them again. Come on, flower shop, finish your weird little ritual then you can go home and hide for the next millenia.

The walk there is the same as always, if a little more morose. It’s in a good spot, near the church just a block away and the memorial on its other side, as well as less sombre atmospheres down near the pier. Well, as little sombre as Gotham can manage.

You feel like you blink and you’re there. Too quickly, you find a rainbow of blooms in front of you, the scent of the blossoms washing over you. When you walk into the flower shop, the bell at the door rings the same as it always does. On autopilot, you walk over to the small, cheaper buds. Your hand clenches around the crinkly wrapping paper, a bundle of posies in your hand. You go to the counter with your prize in hand.

Larissa, the counter worker, smiles at you. Your breath hitches. It’s a working smile, not one of the real, toothy ones she used to give you.

“Oh wow, I thought all the posies had sold out. Lucky you!”

You think of something to say, but the moment passes and you don’t. She rings you up, tells you the price, and when you pay, asks sweetly if you want a receipt.

She doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t acknowledge how you come here every week and buy this same handful of flowers. She doesn’t ask about your job or the weather. She doesn’t cheerfully tell you about how her apprenticeship is going, or about the next sweet thing her partner has done. No, she just stares at you, growing more uncomfortable the longer it takes for you to answer.

She doesn’t even seem to recognise this other version of you. It feels like another string that tied you down to the earth has been snipped. You have an image in your head of a child losing a balloon, desperately grasping at the air. You’re going to float up into the atmosphere, and then you’re going to pop.

You can see the foil glinting in the sun’s light, so, so clearly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Yes, a receipt, please.”

Taking it blindly, you barely flutter your eyes open as you walk out of the shop. She didn’t know you, didn’t remember you. That doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You hadn’t really known her. It doesn’t matter. There’s no real difference, it doesn’t matter.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it never really mattered. You keep telling yourself this as you walk back over to the memorial. As you lay your flowers down with the others, the little posies are dwarfed by the other donations. It didn’t matter. You didn’t know her. None of this matters. Their flowers don’t matter.

You don’t matter. You hit that errant thought with a mental fly swatter.

Exhausted, you sit down next to the monument. You used to be able to lay your head on the stone, able to feel your family in the warmth it had absorbed in the sun. Now you just sort of, awkwardly reached out to the small bit of uncovered plinth at the side. You have to stick your hand through a wreath to do so.

It’s not warm. You wonder if your family are sad. And then you wonder if you’re an idiot for attributing feelings to a literal rock.

After a while, you get up. Cross your arms. You stare at your family's portraits, eyes moving over their smiles. One by one. You recognise some of the photographs, those are your favourites. A smile cracks across your face when you see the picture of when Chasey lost her two front teeth. She still grins cheekily at the camera, uncaring for any changes to her appearance, as all kids shouldn’t.

Your shoulders fall just the slightest bit when you see the picture of Jason Todd. It’s one of his older pictures. Probably seventeen or something. He’d always been a lovely boy when he was younger. And he still was up till he died but you’d always thought you’d seen something start to change in him. That sparkle of innocence, dulled, just the slightest.

And then he’d died. And you’d wondered if maybe he’d felt it was coming.

You certainly hadn’t. It had been like a hurricane tearing through your life. You’d ended up on the other side completely abandoned, the only friend who’d bothered to keep seeing you being one who’d learnt to dodge train ticket costs like a damn ninja. And you’d had to decide whether you could keep doing this, whether you even wanted to.

You were an obsessive creature by nurture. It had been all you could do to hang onto the Waynes, pretend they would love and care for you even if they’d have never even noticed you in real life. You weren’t sure that was strength or simple human survival. Dying was scary. Of course, you were scared of dying.

Your whole family had died. So, you told yourself, that Jason Fucking Todd would be sad if you killed yourself, and somehow, you had made it all these years.

And now here you were, and the Waynes did notice you in real life. You were important to them. You didn’t want to be, but you were. And again, you have to ask yourself, what would Jason Todd ask of you? What would he want you to do now, in this impossible situation you’ve found yourself in?

You stare at the picture. Stare at the way the sun hits his dark hair and blue eyes. Stare very, very hard. Like he might crawl out and give you a detailed list of what to do. You’d really like a detailed list. Or any guidance at all. Maybe you could go hit up a seance or something.

Your head falls forward into your sun-warmed palms. This is so stupid. No answers are going to fall from the sky, you need to find them yourself. And you’re not going to find them here.

Someone walks up beside you to the old memorial, and you quickly tuck yourself back into an acceptable image. Fold in all the rough edges you can. A tall and well-built man, with a face mask, sunglasses and a trucker hat, he looks like he could be a celebrity or something. Someone important, much more than you.

And you weren’t, not technically, at least. The universe had done the equivalent of a shelving error, and now here you goddamn were.

He does an odd pose next to you, something military-esque, where he clasps his hands together and bows his head. With a quick flick of your eyes you confirm, yes, his feet are equal with his shoulders. It’s obvious that he’s paying his respects so you do your best not to judge him too hard.

And then he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, startled and confused.

“For your loss,” the deep voice finishes, jerking his head toward the pictures in front of the two of you.

“Wha- oh uh, um,” you blink and then realise that this person has recognised you, which would make sense since you are literally in one of the photos in front of you, and manage to pull your fading conscious mind back together for a moment more.

“Thank you, uh-” you stare at him a moment longer, “You too?”

Almost worse than that time you told the barista who gave you your coffee you hoped she enjoyed hers too, but not quite. Well, you know, he’d probably lost someone here too. You don’t know why he’d be here otherwise unless he wanted an autograph or something. The thought almost makes you laugh.

He snorts at your words. You don’t know what to make of that.

He looks back down at the pictures and flowers. You think he does, at least, from the slight shifting of his head. He’s kind of mysterious. Pair that with the deep voice, the muscular and tall physique, and you’re an odd mix of attracted and socially anxious. Not that you’re not always socially anxious, but this guy feels… strong. Dumb again, you can see his biceps from here but…

You just can’t quite shake it off. Strong. Strong.

“They didn’t deserve it, none of them did,” he speaks again, and you wonder what the fuck he’s going on about at all.

You admit, you sound a little bitter when you mutter, “Well, that’s obvious.”

He lets out a bark of laughter, and you see his eyes flash to you from under his sunglasses. A shade of blue. There’s another odd pause, and then he turns to you. You don’t know why he’s looking at you. He crosses his arms, and seems to size you up.

“What are you doing here?” he asks you like he knows you.

Your brow furrows. Okay, kind of losing any hotness points here. Bothering someone who was grieving could’ve been seen as rude from the very start, but you’d just thought he was weird. Now, you thought he was weird and rude.

“…Paying my respects. Obviously,” you gesture downwards, “My mother, my siblings, and…”

Well, how would you describe the relationship between you and Jason Todd now? He was still just a stranger to you and-

“With who, that guy?”

Now, it isn’t often that you’re stunned into silence, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to do anything but stare and gape. Frankly, you’re astonished! You’ve never met anyone who spoke so rudely of the dead, and well, he couldn’t have picked a worse person to do it in front of.

“Excuse me?” your voice can’t seem to convey even half of your offence, even as you sound like you’re about ready to bite a second person for today. The man pauses like you’ve surprised him, which- what the fuck is going on? Why do you feel like an alien crash-landed on Earth these days?

“No, I just meant-” he huffs, shakes his head, and continues, his voice now offended too, “What the fuck am I saying? Yes, I did mean that. That little twerp was a naive idiot who was manipulated by the people he believed in most.”

You stare, absolutely speechless, as the stranger goes on a damn-fucking-near crazed rant about one of the people most important to you. Never met? Sure. Dead as hell? Absolutely. But still, he was one of your lifelines. Your candlelight in the dark, guiding your way even when you felt completely lost. And now he’s calling him a naive idiot? You can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

“He changed nothing, made no difference in the end-”

“Nothing?!” you practically shriek, finally able to find your voice just to use it to shout, “He changed… so much! He donated millions of dollars, did heaps of charity work, was practically a treasure to our city… He made multiple homeless shelters, an orphanage, helped rehabilitate criminals and countless other things.”

Your fists are clenched tight enough that they shake. You hide them behind your back, but you still feel like he can probably see them. Your emotions are simmering too close to the surface, bubbling over and onto the floor. About to burn his sneakers to ash.

“You seem like you care a lot,” he says, sounding reserved.

“Of course, I care.”

“…It’s just, you didn’t seem the type, on the TV,” he keeps talking, poking at you for some god-awful reason, and you bark out a harsh laugh.

“Maybe people need to stop making so many fucking assumptions, then? It certainly hasn’t gotten you anywhere,” you throw your hands up, damn sick of all the constant fucking surveillance you’re under. You can see why this version of you lost her mind. You’re near about to as well.

He stares at you for a moment longer, and you start feeling too uncomfortable. It’s a stupid and useless protectiveness that has you staying. Like he’ll somehow try and harm the shrine to your people. It’s happened before, Joker fanboys defacing it and such. This guy could be one of those bastards.

And yet… somehow you feel…

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally says.

“Good, you do that.”

“But in the end, nothing’s really changed. Joker’s still out and about, as you well know.”

You physically flinch like you’ve been slapped. For a good minute there, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You raise one shaking fist, and lift one trembling finger, pointing. The man looks in the direction you’ve pointed, and when he doesn’t see anything, turns back to you. His sunglasses reflect the grey afternoon sun.

“Go,” you order, voice shaking just like the rest of you.

He just keeps staring at you. You wish he’d take off those dumb fucking glasses, so you could see this asshole’s face. Etch it into your mind. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take any action. He simply waits for you to… Well, you don’t know what you’ll do. You haven’t known what you’d do since you left Dick behind two hours ago.

“You need to go,” you say again, and again, he doesn’t fucking move, “You… there’s… you have no right.”

You can hear the buzz of the city around you, the wind rushing by. His clothes rustle in the wind. Your voice sounds too loud in your ears, but he won’t just… he won’t leave. You don’t want this stranger here, watching you. Judging you. It’s all…

“Jason didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, and you think to yourself, desperately, ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

There’s a slight shift in the stranger’s posture. His shoulders tensed.

You think you’ve offended him.

“The Joker… That’s nobody's fault but the government for not just sucking it up and giving him the death penalty, or Batman’s for not doing it himself a long time ago. They’re all fucking useless, but they’re the ones who are supposed to be dealing with this!” you continue, your words growing more heated. It’s only the already looming threat of an assault case that keeps you from shoving the guy. Not like you’d be able to move him an inch, of course, he was huge.

You’re sure it would feel good, though.

“It was never some random teenager's responsibility, and it wasn't mine either,” you say, but find yourself pausing for a moment when you hear the end of your sentence. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious anyway.

You’d tied yourself and Jason up together in your head. To you, you were both two sides of the same coin. One foot in the grave. You’ve got one foot in the grave…

“Jason Todd was a good person, and he made the world a better place.”

You look down at the portrait of the boy, his toothy smile twisting at your heart. None of this was fair. None of this had ever been fair. Why was this guy acting like anybody here had ever been able to do anything about it? Like Jason should’ve been smarter, and avoided a fucking bomb blast?

It was stupid. This was stupid, and you were over it. You were tired.

“And I miss him.”

It’s quiet after you say that.

“I don’t know how you can think it’s fair to act like his death was pointless when… of course it was, all of this was pointless,” you say, throwing your hands wide and gesturing to the entire memorial. “This was a tragedy, but Jason was a victim. And I’m sick of people like you who think they can decide whether someone else’s life was lived right. It’s not your damn right.”

“Now… fuck off!” you announce, and to your shock, he does. He fucks right off. The man gives you one last lingering look, and then turns and leaves without another word. Not like you needed them.

You huff out a shocked breath, and then turn back to the memorial.

The framed faces of your loved ones stare back at you, and for all you know it’s stupid, you can’t help but feel embarrassed for the display. You know your mother would’ve scolded you for your language, at least.

“Sorry,” you say, and you’re unfortunately reminded of that irritating man again. Likely that won’t be the first time he pops up again in your head. He seemed well, insane. Which wasn’t that odd in Gotham but… god, you just couldn’t seem to let it go.

It pissed you off to high heaven. His rudeness was something you’d usually be able to shrug off, especially from some random stranger, but, but, but-! Argh, damn it all. And it wasn’t like that was the first time you had had that sort of conversation, but it was certainly the first time someone had been so bold as to bring it up in front of your dead mother’s smiling face.

Earlier today had snuffed out the fire in you, but that encounter had been the spark to reignite it. More than that, actually. It had made you so damn pissed, made your blood boil in a way you just couldn’t ignore, to the point that you wanted to prove him wrong.

Jason Todd had mattered and had made a difference and change in Gotham. He had made a change in you. You put your hands on your hips, stare down at the flowers, and make a decision.

You’re going to fix your goddamn life. For Jason Fucking Todd.

Your body feels like shit, your brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, and yet this is the greatest opportunity you’ve ever been given. You have a chance to save yourself, and save your friends, and fix all the tiny little problems in Gotham that you’ve suffered through since childhood. Surely just throwing enough money at all your problems would fix some of them.

You were rich. If you couldn’t fix your life with millions of dollars available, then you had no chance.

And yeah, you don’t know what you’re doing. You know you can’t really change what happened. Back then or even just a few days ago. But you hate that. You hate it so much. You hate how weak you are in the face of loss. How both then and now, there’s nothing you can really do. And maybe if just out of spite, towards that asshat, Batman, Joker and everyone else, you want to make a change.

You want to be able to do something about it. You want it, so fucking bad.

First order of business?

…You want more flowers.

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