#because I will largely just be writing domestic fluff and angst because I cant write action

[courtoftheclueless]

Scarred but Not Broken

All things take time to heal, and healing is not always forward. Sometimes steps are taken back even as we try our best.

AN: So here is the first writing on this blog. And yep, it's for Pretty Boy. At this point, It's basically finished (I cannot think of a better ending for it) and is fairly... weird in regards to explaining things about my Self Insert. But, here we go. Hope y'all enjoy it.

The apartment was still strange to them. The windows faced east as opposed to their old western facing windows. The sounds of Washington were different from their comforting lull of a half used back-highway in a small part of a low population province. Even the bed and bedding was different- not enough plush or weight to it.

It was an improvement from… before however. From the month that they spent in the Valley, when the Plaga was trapped in them, starved and dead. It felt like the dirt that beneath their skin would never go away, but the showers in the week since had helped. The long, exceptionally hot, baths helped them feel human again. A haircut helped to even out their hastily chopped strands, though they lamented the loss of their long hair.

It was a necessary sacrifice.

The steam from the bathroom flooded out, and the light of the sunrise caused a glare that blinded them for a moment. Their footsteps were quiet, far quieter than the upstairs neighbors who they swore must wear work boots at all hours of the day. And the stillness of the apartment was undisturbed.

In the daylight, it was easier to remember that they were safe. The night had been long, with their mind warning them against sleeping in a bed. The Ganados- the cultists- always returned to their beds. It was comfortable, yes, but unsafe.

Sleep never came, even after they curled up in a blanket bundle in the closet.

But humans were born for the sunlight. And they refused to deny themselves that. Refused to deny themselves the nature which they sought to return to.

The living area of the apartment was open concept. The kitchen was a small galley one, that they swore they bumped into either side of the counters whenever they turned, with the outer counter looking over the living and dining room. Dining was a bit strong of a word, the small table hardly big enough for the two occupants of the apartment, and the living room so sparse that they swore that it echoed.

A pan is set on the oven, and the makings for breakfasts were slowly pulled from the fridge. Their… roommate was probably the most accurate description for the sheer chaos that had happened- their roommate seemed to stock only the bare minimum. The thought of him helped to keep them occupied as they started to make the scrambled eggs.

Leon was… It was complicated. He seemed like a good man. A dedicated one, certainly. Who took his job seriously but wasn’t afraid to crack jokes to ease the tension. A handsome one to boot. In less, egregious circumstances he would have been a great life partner.

Their eyes first catch on the gold plated band around their left hand’s ring finger. It was pristine, not even three days old, and uncomfortable. Both in what it represented and how it rubbed against the burn scarred flesh of their arm.

And then they cannot tear their eyes away from the flesh of their left arm. Once it was pale and dotted with moles along it. Twenty seven of them, if their count was accurate. Never something they did for a reason, just boredom. Something they could no longer do.

Now it was red. An angry red, with a texture that sometimes they could not reconcile with human flesh as much as they could jerky. It was supposed to be impressive that they could still move it despite the damage done, but they almost wished that it would have needed to be amputated. Maybe if it had, they wouldn’t have been forced into a marriage for a green card to work for a government not their own. Maybe if they were down an arm, they wouldn’t have had to survive the Valley and the Plagas where none of their friends did.

Six Doctors. Four Lawyers. Three General Scientists. Three Artists. Two Ecologists. One Teacher.

Nineteen hikers dead. Nineteen university students out of a group of twenty. Six Doctors who would never help a patient. Four Lawyers who never got to make their arguments against the cruelty of the law. Three Scientists worth of papers that would never be published. Three Artists’ works are forever unknown to the world. Two Ecologists that never got to help the planet. One Teacher who would never inspire the next generation.

The scars along their left side burned, only hurting more on their face when the tears ran along the indent on their cheek and jaw. The arm- burnt and should be unfeeling- shook as they couldn’t breathe anymore. The Plaga in their chest contracted, squeezed around their lungs and forced the air out. Tried to stop their heart because if it couldn’t control them then they needed to be burned at the sta-

“Charlie.”

Hands grasped at them, and they shook. It wasn't enough to shake off the hands. They shouldn't have been so visible. They were safer in the forest, they needed to be away from the village and needed to hide, they needed to escape-

"Charlie." Hyperventilated breaths were pressed against a chest, and they knew the end was coming. The gentle hands were going to stop stroking their hair and try to tear out their organs like they were one of the cows. More tears blurred their vision and they silently prayed to whatever God was up there that the next life be better. "We're safe, Charlie."

Legs surrounded them, their entire body weight leaned against the one who had them. He- his voice was a he and he was strong and that would hopefully mean their death would be quicker- treated them gently for the moment. A soft kiss pressed to their hairline. A seal of their fate, they were certain.

And he hummed, their ear pressed against his chest. It was a tactic to try make them less observant. To silence them to the other Ganados. But their ear didn't pick up the rattling sound of the Plaga in his chest. And an odd scar pressed against their ear.

A vertical line, like Luis had.

Their breath slowed a bit. The sticky and wet egg mix that was on the floor had seeped into their pajama pants, and their body shook from adrenaline. But it was still hard to see, hard to hear, hard to know exactly where they were or if it was a dream or not.

A strong arm lifted their legs and slung them over one of the man's as if they weighed nothing. Their legs were still-life, body weight still low from their month in Spain.

Because they weren't in Spain anymore.

"Where?"

Their mind was still… wrong. Still not able to entirely register what was real and what was imaginary. What was a memory and what was moment.

"Washington." The word mumbled against their hairline, the man's voice rumbled against their side. His hands came around them- shielded them against whatever was outside the small nook kitchen. Left hand over theirs, his ring rubbing against theirs. "In our apartment in Washington."

His skin was clear. While not soft- Leon's job did not allow him to be soft- he was still not nearly as banged up as them. Their much smaller one looked like an anger projected onto his skin.

But he made exaggerated breaths, their own breaths mirroring his. The soft feeling of his on their head helped to calm them down.

"I'm sitting in eggs, aren't I?"

And he laughs a bit, probably from the absurdity and slightly dazed voices that they spoke in.

"We're sitting in eggs." As if to make his point, his legs shifted. Blocked off more of the potential danger from them. "You, uh, might need to have a shower again."

"Probably."

[prettykittykyle-a-blog]

SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog.

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?: now that is quite a tough one. I do have quite a lot of ships that I adore, but I gotta say the true otp is Selina and Money. following that ( and more of what is being asked here ) Selina and Bruce. I grew up with bat.cat so of course that will be the ship i hold most dear to me. I also really love the dynamics and the depth to it. it’s no simple love everything about it is complex and deep and passionate and bold and raw. 

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?:  just about everything. I really love angst, but domestic and fluff and bonding are all great as well. I will admit I am kinda unwilling to do a lot of smut however. I really need to  form a bond with the other mun before I feel anywhere near comfortable with writing smut with them. even then I may just fade to black. 

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?: for the most part as long as they are both consenting adults it is alright. it does make me uncomfortable if the gap is more than or around 10 years and I refuse to write romantic shipping things with an adult and a minor. 

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:  I really try to not be, because there are times that you just might happen to find a ship you never expected to ship but suddenly it is there and you cant stop thinking about it. I do need chemistry however between the muses otherwise it just feels too forced for me and I cannot write  things that way. it just makes me uncomfortable and stressed and this is supposed to be fun not stressful. there are quite a few ships that I found on here that happened just because of chemistry actually. such as one with Remy LeBeau ( magentamutant ) and Selina. ( we call the ship I Get Off in case you wanna search for it. ) and it happened just because the two met and the chemistry was off the charts. 

I also will rp poly ships with other muses, one that Jess ( theharleenquinn ) and I have been trying to write out is Siren shipping. we just have not found an Ivy that both of our muses really click with together. we are still looking for our Pam. 

important side note. I also will only ship with one Harley because as of this moment that one harley is the only one that my Selina ever really found chemistry with. I have interacted with others - but none came as naturally and as easily as they do with theharleenquinn so i just stopped trying to push and am just letting Selina be clingy and choosy to the one Harley instead of trying to force her on others. other than that, it is absolutely fair game. 

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS.FW?:  I go with the general rule of ‘if it is able to be seen on daytime TV then it is able to be written without it being not safe for work. once it gets a little too graphic or a little too revealing then bam that nsfw tag goes up and the read more comes out. 

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?:  Remy Lebeau, Harley Quinnzel, Clark Kent, Diana Prince, Gabriel Aggrest.  just about everyone there is chemistry with. 

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:  I would like it if you asked before you just jumped right out and made our muses a couple, but beyond that not really. if you are feeling chemistry then shoot in some relationship memes or like a relationship call or what ever. just don’t jump in with them being in a relationship right off the bat bc then I may get stressed out.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?:  as long as the ship still floats I will be there paddling this boat happily.

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?: Yes. I am even a polyship.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:  I would ride or die for my ships tbh but I won’t be breathing down peoples necks like ‘hey look at my ship look at it look at this ship look’ or pressure others to be as invested as I am. you do you and we’ll be fine.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?:  well. bat.cat. it is the staple ship. the ship all know. the black bat and the purple cat. the timeless ship. it is the one that rarely if ever gets dumped on and is always just a stable part of the fandom.

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:  just let me know you are interested, hit up some memes and starters, iM me, throw free photoshop and  we can take it from there.

tagged by: @aviaiire@coccinellc

tagging; anybody who wants to fill this out.