#I DUNNO WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS STORY AT ALL LOLL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

7ban-sama · 2 years

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you and your wife make the best posts about jshk, truly im invested in both of your thoughts and analyses as much as i am in the manga itself. you both add a lot to my enjoyment of the story and characters for me.

in one of the asks you recently answered, you referred to amane as having a special interest (which i agree is an apt description). so im wondering, do you think of amane as autistic? or do you feel like something else fits him better? or even just that theres simply no box he could fit in, clinically...

Aw, thank you so kindly for liking me & my wifey's posts, and I'm happy to hear we're enhancing your experience with the series in any way. We always hope that we can at least make someone pause and think about something they hadn't before (after all, I love posts that make me do that!) so... just lovely to hear~

As for your question: the answer is indeed that I do not think I could easily fit Amane in a specific box! I wouldn't use any one label on anything... I sometimes use terminology to convey a concept — like special interests! — but it's really just about communicating something quickly/efficiently enough. It's handy to be able to describe, like, the scene at the rooftop with Tsukasa and Nene as Amane entering a "triggered" state, so you can understand how I interpret that individual interaction... but I wouldn't go on to say I think Amane has PTSD, like, clinically (even if? he has been through traumatic events..) ; I separate these things.

Though, I definitely see Amane as an ill individual... which is actually why I place so much emphasis on living Amane NOT being a perfectly "normal" boy, as the idealized vision on PP is often seen as. You'll hear me rattling off about him definitely not being a Normie for a reason. He's NOT-!! & I'll die on this hill, ooh...

But like... to get to my main point... my reason for structuring my HCs this way, is that the story is so fantastical at times, it almost feels... distracting-? ...?? To get too clinical with our terminology? Like, of course the behavior comes off as pathological, as Amane is running around being so destructive and self-hating and whatnot... mmh but. Hm. Still... It just feels like there's a point where we need to walk it all back and remember Amane, the Character, is like, the ghost of a crazy perverted murderer — he's the fantasy of these traits & behaviors. It's not meant to be representation ww... so, we need not get too caught up in the details...

You know like, we could ask ourselves what is "wrong" with Itachi in Naruto, like, clinically. Or Naraku in Inuyasha. And so on and so forth. And I mean, you could conclude many things, but, like, I feel like... for ME, the human language starts to feel so feeble when trying to apply medical terms on these circumstances... What can be said for the human psyche once it experiences other-worldly levels of suffering and personal strife? When the manifestations of your feelings enters the point of, oh I dunno, rewriting the universe ala Homura Akemi...

It's poignant of course, and I think we might as well express things this fantastically as opposed to not... but it's these very feelings that make me want to forgo diagnosis. We're already IN the metaphor, extending beyond the constraints of reality...

(*rolls wrist* and you know, the fact is that medical terms are necessary to define ill individuals because we're humans in society and need help/treatment to function, to communicate... When I think about the reason why we have these systems, I get fatigued... It's really about knowing what medication is going to help you get through the day better... what part of the brain to try and stimulate...)

... the OTHER layer to this all, is that. JSHK is um, well it's a shota-bait manga, and Amane is out here holding his knife and tongue-lolling with swirly eyes... Just another layer of why I can't see him as actually having PTSD (would YOU end up like that after murdering your brother?) The "intent" is that, "it's hot when a guy is Crazy and murderer and going to disregard your autonomy." ... "Wouldn't it be soo hot if a guy..." and so on.

Obviously, of all people, me and Avvy respect all the beautiful thematic elements of JSHK — we adore it! we see it as a respectable piece of art! — but ah, we also just understand the genre, the "point"... You know, Aida-sensei is going to be excited to draw a boy in thigh-highs at the end of the day ww... & bless her heart, that's what art should be about, I think. It's actually pretty relieving for me, that the manga isn't trying to sell me any specific narrative with Amane, he's just, Amane! A confluence of his many traits, whether they be charming or frustrating or unsettling or deeply relatable... This is very liberating... it feels like, you could see anything you'd like within these traits, in that case.

No shame on anyone who feels the need to categorize this stuff btw, I get it; it's just a matter of how I want to personally engage with things. I'm always prioritizing what would be the most fun for me, and I wouldn't get anything out of adhering to like a DSM every time I get into a new character that appears ill to me. I really just go off of Vibes.

Though I do have biases towards what I see the boys leaning towards, natch. As I mentioned before I perceive like individual symptoms/behaviors so, I can see, relate to, and compare events in the manga as like, being overstimulated, being triggered, having a psychotic break etc... and I like to explore things in my personal work with this in mind. Oh but the disclaimer is honestly I have, like, a fetish, for mental illness, and enjoy fetishizing me & my wife's symptoms LOL soo... there's that... My motivation comes from a similar place as Aida-sensei drawing Amane in thigh highs, or, holding a knife, I suppose. "Because I Want To See It, Because It Would Be Hot." Perhaps why I have to be so glib about it. It's not very academic, at the end of the day. I'm also trying to get people on my level of casually calling characters psycho btw. It's fun, consider it.

Also fwiw, because Hanako-kun of Magic is a very simple AU & Amane in it IS just a non-magical high school student, I think of that one as the closest to simply "autistic." Lol.

#☀️#💭#💬#sory for the wait btw; i wait to answer asks when i'm all focused and ready #oh again thanks for liking our posts though #hope these mad ramblings are funny at the very least.

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lickstynine · 5 years

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Oily Jace and the Smol Greasy Bitch (part 1)

A/N: Since @sickandvomiting and I are in love with our 50′s AU of Jace and Elizabeth, and equally in love with brutal whump, we decided to write the story of how Greaser Jace got his scars. I had to change the origin, since a car wreck that severe would’ve just straight-up killed him back then. Anyway, this was really fun to write, so I hope y’all enjoy reading it. Coordinating illustration(s) to come.

Jace felt like he’d been walking for about ten hours, though it had really only been about thirty minutes. Normally his long legs could’ve taken him from the bar to Elizabeth’s place in ten or fifteen, but it was hard to walk quickly when he was actively losing blood. When he’d first stood up, it had been a struggle to ignore the searing pain of several deep cuts. Now he was so lightheaded, the pain was negligible, but his ability to stand was quickly fading. It felt like he’d been trudging through miles of concrete jungle. He was about to give up and lay down in an alley to accept his fate when a familiar sight wobbled before his eyes. Just down the road, Elizabeth’s dilapidated brownstone was visible under a flickering streetlight, its telltale patches of moss and missing brick mercifully familiar.

Jace sighed in relief, sending a fresh jolt of pain through several cuts and some probably-cracked ribs. It stung fiercely, but it woke him up a bit, and he forced himself to keep walking, cursing and fumbling as he scaled the rusty fire escape. His right wrist screamed when he grabbed onto the railing, but he didn’t let go. Just two flights of creaky old stairs, and he’d be safe. By the time he reached Elizabeth’s window, he was one stiff wind away from toppling right back down the fire escape. He leaned heavily on the rail, using his good hand to rap on the glass.

“Ey! Doll face! You up?” Even in this state, Jace knew well enough to whisper. If he woke up Elizabeth’s neighbors, or god forbid, her parents, they’d both be dead.

Momentarily the curtains were drawn back to reveal Elizabeth’s face behind the glass. The grin she wore at the surprise of seeing him quickly faded, however, as she got full sight of him. Blood streamed down his face, neck, and chest, staining his white t-shirt a dark brownish red.

“Jace, what the fuck!!” she hissed, opening the creaky window as quietly as she could. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him into the room, but pulled away when he winced sharply.

“I… I can clue you. Kinda.” Jace climbed in the window himself, hissing, wincing, and groaning and eventually just landing face first on the ground. “Shit…”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound, and her hands momentarily flitted to his back before she stood back up and peeked out her door. Good, the hallway was clear. They hadn’t heard.

“Better get to explaining there, honey,” she whispered, closing the door as quietly as possible. She fluttered back to him and helped him to sit upright. “Thank god the floor is wood,” she muttered when she saw the bloodstain left on the scuffed floorboards.

“Sorry.” Jace tried to grin sheepishly, but it was more of a grimace. “I wasn't even tryin’ to start shit this time.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“I wasn't!” Jace cried, “I was at the bar with the guys, and there were a couple punks hangin’ out nearby... hollerin' at the bartender and just bein' assholes. Leo and Donny had to bail early, so it was just me and Aaron there the rest of the night. It's gettin' late, we're about to head out, and we hear a ruckus over on the far side of the bar. It's those punks from before. They're all over this kitten, they clearly wanna neck 'er and she is not havin’ it.” He paused, waiting for a reaction from Elizabeth. She scrunched her nose distastefully, and he continued.

“So I go over there. I tell 'em to back off unless they wanna knuckle sandwich. Aaron cut out soon as I started talkin'. You know him, he's such a wet rag with that shit. Too scared of gettin' in trouble. But anyway, so I'm tellin' these punks to leave the girl alone, they tell me to get bent and go back to grabbin' at 'er.” Again, Jace paused, and Elizabeth scoffed obligingly.

“So I yanked the closer guy offa her and decked him, and his friend lets go'a the girl to help 'im. At first I was creamin' 'em, like those two were half dead, and then outta the woodwork, like five more guys pop up to help the bastards. But I don't wanna just bail, cause what are they gonna do to that girl if I turn tail like Aaron. So I'm just tryin' to keep my head above water, and one of these nosebleeds breaks a goddamn bottle an' comes at me with it. Nearly cut my fuckin' head off before I kicked it outta his hand. Dunno what I woulda done if the bartender hadn't threatened to call the cops. Jackasses ran off, but it was already past close, so I had to cut out, too. I didn't even see where that girl got off to… I just hope those creeps didn't find her."

Elizabeth just hummed in response, at a loss for words. As he’d been speaking, she had started wiping the blood off his face and neck with a washcloth and the water from her hot water bottle. She paused and met his eyes, and cupped the uninjured side of his face with her hand.

“I’m so sorry that happened, sugar,” she said, wiping a streak of blood and sweat from his cheek with her thumb. “But hey, we match now!” She flashed him a concerned smile, and was pleased when he momentarily grinned back, though the expression quickly morphed into a grimace.

Jace shrugged, his face immediately screwing up in painful regret. “I mean… it was the right thing to do… I think. Maybe I shoulda just butted out...” He sighed, and his good hand flew to his ribs, which were aching much worse than earlier. Any last dregs of adrenaline were long gone by now, and he could feel the edges of the cuts on his chest tugging with every breath. “I'm gonna hafta borrow a shirt from Donny or somethin’... If I come home in this, Mom's gonna flip her lid.”

“Hey, no, it wasn’t your fault. People are just… like that,” she said, resuming her work on his wounds. “I would offer you one of my dad’s shirts, but it would be like me trying to wear a baby onesie,” she added with a chuckle. After a moment, she stopped again. She could see deep down into the whitish yellow viscera in some of the cuts, and while the bleeding was slowing, it wasn’t slowing as quickly as she’d like.

“You should really get to a hospital, Jace,” she murmured. “All I’ve got here is iodine, alcohol, and Rawleigh’s.”

“That should be fine.” Jace shrugged, as if he had a bad paper cut and not a couple pints of blood soaking his shirt.

“It won-” she started loudly, but caught herself and lowered her voice to a whisper again. “It won’t be fine! I can’t take care of this by myself, you need a doctor!”

Jace sighed. “How do you want me to get there, Liz? Aaron picked me up today.”

“I dunno, we could flag down a taxi or something? I don’t have any money though, and I don’t think I can very well ask my parents,” she trailed off. “Besides, I doubt any cab would take us with you lookin’ like this.”

“Yeah, I got money, but…” Jace sighed. He was wracking his brain, trying to figure out who he might be able to call. At first, his vacant gaze seemed thoughtful, but then his eyelids fluttered and he slumped forward against Elizabeth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed, tapping his face. “Jace, c’mon baby, wake up.” When he didn’t respond, she held his head against the crook of her neck and stroked his hair, swallowing down the newfound panic that was crawling into her throat. “Shit!”

She pushed Jace back against the wall as gently as she could, though his head lolled back and hit the drywall with a hollow thump. She muttered an apology despite the fact that he couldn’t hear it, and stood as quietly as she could, afraid the thud had woken her parents. She listened for a moment, head cocked toward the door—nothing except her mom’s muffled snoring from down the hall.

She made her way to their living room, dancing around the creaky floorboards in a routine that was now muscle memory from repetition. She dialed the number as quietly as she could, wincing every time to rotary dial reset with a click and a metallic ring. When the operator picked up, she gave the number to Jace’s home, and silently hoped upon hope that it would be his dad answering, and not his mom.

The phone rang a few times, and Elizabeth practically collapsed with relief when Vody’s deep voice and clipped accent came through the receiver.

“Hyello? Who this?” He didn't sound angry, luckily, but he was definitely confused. Phone calls at three in the morning rarely meant good news.

“Mr. Romanovich! It’s Elizabeth. Please come to my house, it’s important. Jace is here. Please help.” The words came tumbling out in a rush, accompanied by sudden tears and a choked sob, and she found herself hanging up the phone before he could even open his mouth to respond.

Vody stood over the phone for a moment, dumbfounded as it buzzed in his ear. He could only imagine what Jace had gotten into, but he supposed now wasn't the time to worry about it. Not bothering to throw on real clothes, he simply grabbed his car keys and stepped into the boots he'd left by the front door. It wasn't cold out this time of year, and even if it had been, New York winter was about as cool as a Siberian summer. Despite being clad in only his boxers and a tank top, he strolled shamelessly out to his car, climbing in and gunning it down the road.

The streets weren't as busy this time of night, and it didn't take long for Vody to pull up in front of Elizabeth's brownstone. He parked out front and hurried up to the door, hesitant to actually knock at this hour.

Luckily, the door swung open as soon as he reached the landing; Elizabeth had been listening for him. She held a finger up to her lips and pointed to his feet, and for a moment Vody caught a glint of tears on her cheeks in the dimly lit doorway. He took off his clunky boots and she guided him deftly through the hallway, showing him how to avoid the noisy floorboards. They miraculously made it to her room with minimal sound. There, Jace had slid down the wall and was slumped sideways onto the ground, seemingly lifeless. Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth when she reflexively gasped, and after dashing over to him and taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to Vody.

“Please help. He’s hurt bad.”

Vody sighed quietly. He wasn't exactly fazed - he'd seen people in much sorrier states during the war - but that didn't mean he wanted to see his son torn up and bleeding to death. He didn't bother asking questions yet, crouching down to scoop Jace off the ground as carefully as possible. Jace groaned slightly, his eyelids flickering, but he slumped over against Vody's chest as soon as he was picked up. Vody stood up easily, not at all bothered by the weight. Elizabeth hurried to open the door for him, and they crept out to the car in fearful silence.

Once Jace was placed carefully into the passenger seat, Vody climbed back into the driver's, starting the car while Elizabeth hopped into the back. He finally broke the silence, as there was a rather important question to be asked.

“You know where nearest hospital is?”

“Yeah.” She supplied him with the location and the quickest way she knew to get there, and once again fell silent. Her eye was fixed on Jace, and she reached up to squeeze his shoulder. After a few moments she spoke again, this time more quietly.

“I should have called you sooner. I’m sorry. I waited too long.” A sob caught in her throat and she bit it back, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. Nonetheless, they rolled down her face and she ducked out of sight, ashamed of both her inaction which led to this situation, and the way she was currently handling it.

“Hey. You okay. You not nurse. Not trained to take care of hurt people. Freak out is normal. You try to help. That what matter. We go to hospital now. Will be okay.” Vody reached one of his long arms back to gently pat her shoulder.

“You cold?” He asked tactfully, having been trying not to stare at her very thin nightie for a while now. “Should be blanket somewhere in back.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said with a sniffle, pulling the worn fleece around her shoulders. “The hospital is right up here,” she added as they turned onto the correct street.

Vody went quiet again as they pulled up in front of the emergency room. He parked right there, rushing around to pick up Jace and carry him inside. The poor nurse at the desk looked horrified, hastily paging the doctor on call. It wasn't long before a stretcher appeared, nurses pushing it and a doctor hurrying alongside. Vody set Jace on the stretcher as carefully as possible, following along without waiting for an invitation as they wheeled off down the hall. He gestured for Elizabeth to come with, fully ready to fight anyone that tried to stop them.

She tagged along behind him, jogging to keep up with their quick pace. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, feeling exposed in the public hallway. She didn’t even bother to gather the ends of it off the floor, instead letting it trail behind her like a sad cape. When they arrived at the room, the nurses stopped both of them, one laying a gentle but firm hand on Vody’s chest.

“You can both stay here and watch, but you have to give us room to work,” she explained. “There’s a waiting area down the hall, too,” she added, though it was more of a suggestion than an additional detail.

“We’re staying. We’ll stay out of your way,” Elizabeth stated.

Vody nodded firmly. He wasn't going anywhere until he knew Jace would be okay. He leaned on the wall, sighing quietly as he watched nurses frantically slice away Jace's clothes and work to staunch the wounds that were still trickling blood. When the doctor got to work, Vody finally looked down at Elizabeth.

“What happened?” His voice was softer and more subdued than Elizabeth had ever heard, the mischievous twinkle long gone from his eye.

“Some punks gave him a beating when he tried to help out a girl they were harassing,” she said, her gaze never leaving Jace. There was so much blood. She reached blindly for Vody’s hand, and ended up latching onto his arm with trembling fingers. He put an arm around her, strong and sturdy. There was a long sigh followed by silence as he pondered his response. He didn't want to say Jace should've left the girl to be harassed, but he couldn't think of a better solution either. It was just a shit situation. He sighed again, low and heavy.

“Am trying to decide if I should call his mother. Obviously, will tell her either way, but... Don't know if better to go home and talk later, or call now.”

“Jace wouldn’t want her to worry,” Elizabeth replied. “He didn’t want you to worry either,” she added after a second.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Vody snorted. “He seriously think he just going to come home and pretend he fine?” He shook his head. “Too much like me.”

Elizabeth found herself chuckling along with him. “I think he really believed he could just waltz in and no one would notice a thing. He’s a real dipstick sometimes…”

Vody nodded, a smile flickering on his face. It faded quickly, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Have cigarettes in car. I go get. You stay, watch him.”

As he turned to leave, Elizabeth caught his hand and he paused.

“He’s gonna be okay, Mr. Romanovich.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “He always is. He has to be.”

Vody forced a smile for her. “He have you. That help.” He trudged off down the hall, ignoring the strange look he got from a passing nurse.

As promised, he returned a few minutes later with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in hand, one already lit in his mouth. He held them out to Elizabeth without a word. She took one and allowed him to light it for her as she puffed, blowing a small cloud of smoke against the glass of the ICU room wall. The scene seemed to drag on for far too long, with an alarming amount of blood and sharp tools. Easily the most gruesome was an incision the doctor made between two ribs, inserting a tube to drain blood from the chest cavity. Even Vody grimaced at the sight. Between him and Elizabeth, the pack of cigarettes was quickly depleting.

Eventually, the doctor came out to talk to them. He explained that they had patched up all the cuts, but they wanted to keep an eye on Jace for a while, since some of the wounds were deep, with one having nicked his small intestine, and another puncturing his left lung. They were going to take him for x-rays now that he wasn't going to bleed out on the radiologist, and do further repairs once they knew for sure what was broken. Vody nodded along, listening closely but at a loss for words.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Elizabeth replied in his stead. As he left, she turned to Vody and grabbed his large palm. “Hear that? He’s gonna be okay.”

Vody sighed, nodding half-heartedly. “Da.” He leaned against the wall, slowly sinking down until he was sitting on the floor. It honestly looked a bit ridiculous - a giant man, smudged with blood, wearing work boots and heart-print boxers, sitting on the pristine hospital tile. He had told himself he was going to be calm. He was the father here, he had to be responsible and take care of things. At the same time, it took all his self-control to stay quiet and composed. He felt like an idiot. A failure. A fuck-up. Had he raised Jace to be too much like himself? Should he have been keeping a closer eye on his son? How the fuck did this even happen? He sighed deeply, and it wobbled as he choked down a sob.

“Mr. Romanovich?” Elizabeth questioned, hearing the slight tremble in his breath. She laid her hand on his shoulder hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“Hm?” Vody didn't dare to look up; he felt pathetic. He was sitting on the floor crying, being comforted by a little girl. The hallway was far too silent to miss his sniffles, and his face burned red with embarrassment.

Without a word, Elizabeth stepped into the now empty ICU room and rooted around for a bit before discovering a cache of blankets. She brought one out and draped it around Vody’s shoulders before sliding down to the floor next to him and resting the side of her head against his arm. Sniffling quietly, he patted her hair in silent gratitude.

“He’s okay,” she whispered. It felt as though any sound in the quiet hall would break the thin barrier keeping their emotions at bay, and she closed her eyes as the words dissipated against the white walls.

Vody kept a sturdy arm around Elizabeth, awake and alert as much as he didn't want to be. He was too on edge to even consider spacing out - it felt like if he blinked, he might open his eye to a doctor leading them down to the morgue. Of course, that wasn't the case, and after a while, a nurse came to talk to them. She explained that they'd found several breaks, but luckily, none were compounded. They'd had to put screws into Jace's wrist, since he'd fucked up the alignment of the bones pretty badly (likely trying to climb the fire escape), and they wanted to keep a close eye on his ribs, to make sure they didn't interfere with the healing of his lung. Despite this seemingly endless list of awful news, she assured them that Jace was expected to recover completely; he would just need care and rest for a while.

“He’s stable now, I can take you to his room if you like?”

Vody nodded, scrambling to his feet and helping Elizabeth up as well. He hurried after the nurse as she guided them to a simple patient room. Jace was sprawled out on the bed, his lanky legs mere inches from drooping off the edge. His wrist was wrapped heavily in plaster and bandages, and his arms and torso were covered in fresh stitches, including particularly nasty gashes across his left pectoral and below his navel. The tube was still in his chest, and he was attached to a delightful assortment of monitors to track his vitals. The entire right side of his face was covered in bandages, with a long line of stitches and a patchwork of bruises on the other cheek.

Vody couldn't help cringing at the sight. Somehow this was almost worse than the gorey mess earlier. Maybe because he could no longer tell himself it was just the blood everywhere that made it seem so bad, or maybe because he'd never seen Jace look so weak and vulnerable. It felt wrong, and Vody couldn't help feeling responsible. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but hesitated, not wanting to jostle Jace or mess up any of the equipment.

Elizabeth had no such anxieties, and rushed to his side. She brushed a strand of hair off the exposed side of his face, fingers tracing along his brow, then down his jawline. They lingered momentarily on his lips, and she smiled sadly when she felt his warm breath on them. It reminded her that he would be okay. Jace stirred slightly at her touch, letting out a soft groan. Vody perked up at once, watching them closely.

“Jace?” she whispered. “You awake?”

Jace's eyelids fluttered, and he squinted against the bright hospital lights. His vision was hazy, but the massive mane of dark curls hovering over him was unmistakable. “Hey, doll face… how goes it?”

“Oh, just peachy,” she replied with a chuckle that ended in a stifled sob. Tears began rolling soundlessly down her cheeks as she took his face in both hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she added, voice thick with emotion.

“Didn't miss it as much as I thought I would. Shit hurts.” Jace was trying to be light-hearted, but even faking a smile made him grimace. He patted the mattress beside him with his good hand. “C'mere, there's space for your skinny little ass.” That brought a more genuine smirk out of him, followed by a grunt of pain. Every movement seemed to hurt, even just talking. “Christ alive, they got any drugs in this quack shack or do I just get to sit here suffering?”

“You’re already on enough to send any of us normal folk to cloud nine,” she said, hesitating and shooting a glance in Vody’s direction. “But you’re a pretty big cat too, so you can probably handle some more. I’ll go get the nurse, leave you two alone for a moment.” With a quick pivot, she scampered away, leaving the room in a breathless silence as Jace’s good eye focused slowly on his father.

“Shit.” Even as he'd realized he was in the hospital, Jace had still naively hoped his parents hadn't found out. He was clearly panicked, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. “Okay so, ya see, the thing is-”

Vody cut him off. “Hush. Miss Lizbeth told me everything. You think I'm mad at you, Jason?” He was almost laughing as he said it.

“Well… kinda?” Jace admitted. He didn't even have a good reason for why. He'd just assumed that going out, being rowdy, and getting into trouble meant his parents would be pissed.

“Did you start fight?” Vody asked plainly.

“Not really… I mean… I threw the first punch, but I was just tryna get those creeps offa that poor girl!” Jace tried to sit up, naturally getting animated as he defended himself. He promptly fell back on the pillows with a grimace.

“Then why would I be mad?”

Jace paused, looking up at his father for a moment as he thought. “...I dunno.”

Now Vody couldn't help laughing. “Too much my son, you are…” He plunked down on the foot of the bed, patting Jace's knee gently. “I not mad at you. Was worried, of course. But I not mad. Your mother…” Vody sighed, knowing Serafina likely wouldn't be happy about Jace getting in a fight, even one most people would consider justified. “I will talk to your mother.”

Jace cringed. “Do you have to tell Mom?”

Vody snorted. “Well, yes. How am I explain broken hand and stitches face?”

“...right. Good point.” Jace sighed. He really didn't want to have to talk to Serafina, even if Vody talked to her first. He got distracted from his worries when Elizabeth walked back in with a nurse, who approached Jace with another syringe and inserted it into his IV tube.

“Just a little more morphine. We don’t want to go overboard,” the nurse said with a small smile, which Elizabeth returned as the nurse left the room.

Jace visibly relaxed as the meds hit his system, and Elizabeth found herself laughing. “Naturally, you beat up some goons, get totaled, and end up high as a kite on the good stuff.” She took his hand in hers, careful to avoid the bandages and stitching. “Fucking beatnik.” She raised an eyebrow when he smirked at her, no longer wincing at the movement.

“Look,” he grinned, “this wasn't how I planned to spend my Friday night. The beat life chose me.”

“It's Saturday morning. Has been for while now.” Vody chimed in.

“Shit, is it?” Jace looked at his wrist as if he ever wore a watch.

“Da. Sun came up hour ago.” Vody confirmed.

“Ah, shit…” Jace smiled apologetically at Elizabeth. “Sorry baby. Normally, I try to make our all-nighters a little more fun.”

“Jace!” Elizabeth hissed through clenched teeth and leaned in conspiratorially. “Your father is in here with us, shut up!” She flashed Vody a sheepish smile and clamped a hand as gently as she could over Jace’s mouth when he started to speak again.

Vody just chuckled. “Your secret safe with me. He not get habits from his mother.” He sighed. “Who I probably need go talk to. Wish luck.”

“Slay the dragon!” Jace encouraged, muffled by Elizabeth's hand, who flashed Vody another apologetic grin.

As soon as Vody left the room, Elizabeth whirled on him in mock outrage.

“You knucklehead! Sayin’ shit like that in front of the old man,” she muttered, climbing up onto the bed with him. “You really are the most, aren’t ya?”

“Baby, I'm more than the most.” Jace grinned, slinging his less-damaged arm around her. “Like your nightgown, by the way. Meant to tell ya earlier, but I was busy… y'know… bleedin’ out.” He laughed, drowning in far too much morphine to be worried about his mortality.

She curled into his chest with a snort, tactfully avoiding his more grievous wounds, and gently kissed his collarbone before laying her head down and falling silent, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

“You really scared us, you know,” she said finally. “Us meaning him too. He was terrified.”

Jace snorted derisively. “You're pullin' my leg. I've never seen Dad scared.”

“Really, babe. Like, really really.”

Jace furrowed his brows, seeming to be in serious thought for possibly the first time ever. He didn't say anything for a while, then quietly ventured, “How bad do I look?”

“Like how I imagine someone might look after a tiger attack. Which is to say, pretty damn bad.” She fell silent for a moment, then quietly added “Scary bad, honestly.” Her hand trailed slowly along the edge of his bandages, mapping out the new tracks it would have to follow.

Jace cringed. She hadn't even tried to sugarcoat it - it was too bad to bother. He'd been considering asking for a mirror, but now he was honestly afraid. “Oh… shit.” As stupid as it was, he couldn't help being more worried about his appearance than his health. Cuts would recover. Good looks… not so much.

Elizabeth lifted her head to face him, and found his eyes darting down to assess the damage for himself, slight panic beginning to show in his face when he saw exactly how many injuries there were, their centers stained a deep browning red.

“Hey, don’t do that. Not yet,” she said, lifting his chin with two fingers and tilting it toward her face. “Not yet…” She smiled sadly when his good eye finally focused on hers, and she kissed his brow. Jace tried to force a smile, but it didn't stick. He wasn't sure if it was the stress or the drugs, but he was struggling to focus. Thoughts were spinning around like a whirlwind in his head, and the bed no longer felt steady beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut with a tense sigh.

“You’re okay, baby,” Elizabeth said, rearranging herself so that his head could rest on her chest instead. “I’ve got you.” She carded a hand slowly through his hair. The nurses had washed the blood and product out of it to get him cleaned up before the surgery, and it was soft under her hand.

“Just sleep. We’ll deal with whatever comes up tomorrow. For now, just sleep.” She continued her gentle ministrations, and when his good eye remained wide open, head spinning with endless possibilities, each less desirable than the last, she started humming. Gently, sweetly. A stupid little song that they’d heard in a jukebox when they first met. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut as the morphine made the thoughts indecipherable and he stopped trying to think, and stopped trying not to think. Instead, he just let himself be, and feel Elizabeth’s hands in his hair, the warmth of her body, and sound of her voice. And eventually, he was lulled into a deep but peaceless sleep.

#whump #injury #blood #broken bones #angst #tw violence #tw hospital #jace #astor-romanovich #elizabeth #vody #sickandvomiting #collab

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