#but he was also like recovering from the trauma of the red death and all of that from the first movie

[riseoftherose]

this is so dumb but i just spent an hour trying to find a fic i read when i was like 14 and i cannot find it ANYWHERE or any mention of it.

[probablyhuntersmom]

Belos trying the same tactic with both of the poor kids. But what a contrast between the towering monstrous form versus the puddle he was reduced to in the end.

He hurt Luz and Hunter enough. More than enough. He snatched literal life away from them. I'm relieved that both of them had proximity away from him at the time of his death:

with Hunter being safely far away, and Luz making a conscious decision to walk away from him, so that they didn't have to witness his demise. On top of what they both already had to heal from, witnessing him dying would've been...visceral on another level for their senses, and for the memories they'd be carrying for years afterward.

I wouldn't ever want these to be the last sights (and sounds!) of Belos that Luz and Hunter are exposed to:

Especially because they had a history of trusting in him first, before experiencing betrayal from him. This scene was freaky enough for an adult audience member like me to watch...I can't imagine being a child, who previously trusted in Belos, placed in this situation.

It was different for Eda, King and even Raine (who has been staging and leading the CATTs rebellion over a long period), who were the ones to finish him off, because they didn't have prior experiences of deeply trusting in Belos first.

Coming in from a clinical perspective as well, if you work as a therapist you have to note down and weigh two areas for every client case: risk factors vs. protective factors that can either worsen or improve whatever mental health conditions they're experiencing. Doing this gives a clearer picture and creates higher awareness of a client's situation and struggles.

I'm zooming in on just risk factors for PTSD symptoms (list is from the National Institute of Mental Health's page about PTSD):

I underlined the blue to show which risk factors that Luz and Hunter would already be up against without witnessing Belos's death: that's already 7 out of 8!! (keep in mind they saw stuff like the grimwalker graveyard in Belos's mindscape) And these poor babies already met enough criteria for diagnoses of depression and C-PTSD respectively. If they witnessed him dying, it would've been a "big T" trauma event that could do more great damage and complicate the recovery process.

The red underlines are if they witnessed Belos's death, adding more layers of wounding when it comes to the relevant risk factors. And what would intensify things is like I mentioned, their history with Belos in particular is downright messy since they experienced betrayal from him in such awful ways. You can't be betrayed by someone if you didn't first place trust in them. In Hunter's case, he had (and realistically, would still have) love and attachment to Belos.

It's heavy enough that both of them were mourning father figures that left them behind at the start of those 3.5-4 difficult years, and would experience depressive symptoms related to those losses:

Hunter mourning Belos himself and his life in the Emperor's Coven which brought meaning to his life, while Luz mourned Manny and her use of the glyphs that helped her find her place when there was nothing else that worked.

They would need Camila, Darius and Eda as their solid rock to fall back on for unwavering support, along with the love from everybody else.

If I rewind things a little, I'm also relieved that Hunter wasn't ambushed by Belos in For the Future, and that Luz didn't give into temptation to "blast him away" in Watching and Dreaming:

Their anger and frustration was most definitely valid, but I'm pretty sure that any decisions to follow through with their desire to strike back at Belos...would've added salt to their moral injuries and bred more painful confusion in the years that they'd have to spend recovering from all that they went through.

Keeping them away from being the ones to finish Belos off was an informed writing decision.

[someoneimsure]

Desperately reminding everyone that Jason never intended to kill Tim Drake.

If Jason wanted him dead, he would be dead.

Teen Titans 2003 #29

He was testing Tim’s mettle and walked away with a good impression of the kid. That is all.

And no, Batman does not think Jason poses a threat to Tim Drake.

For us to know for certain that Batman does think Jason poses a threat to Tim Drake, Batman would have to tell us and the only opportunity he has for that is in UTRH. He doesn’t say anything like that then, and any time it comes up afterwards, especially in comics post-2016 after the 52 reboot, is to be ignored for post-Crisis continuity.

He also does not think Jason killed Dick Grayson or an entire city.

Jason clearly thinks it is ironic that on the day he and Batman were meant to finally hash out their differences, Dick probably died.

Batman is also very clearly not blaming Jason for the destruction of the City. He’s just preparing for an attack. When he does finally talk to Jason, it is never about Tim Drake. It’s not even clear if Batman even knows that Tim Drake was attacked.

Despite Dick’s death, Batman still wants to save Jason. But he doesn’t. Instead he does this:

Batman does not even react with horror at hitting his only surviving son. The only son who came back from the dead, mind you.

He just stands there as his son dies (again) and the Joker laughs at him, which is designed to push the theme that Batman fails.

But he does react to horror at the thought of The Joker dying. He does try to stop that.

In conclusion, Batman did not know about or even think about Tim Drake while dealing with Jason in UTRH. Batman did not blame Jason for Dick’s death or the destruction of Bludhaven. If you do think he blames Jason for Dick or thinks Jason is a threat to Tim, you’re reading too much into it.

...and probably confusing this version of Jason with the absolute dramatic fool in BFTC. No one likes that book. Just burn it.

UTRH Batman is the “don’t let emotions interfere with your mission unless it’s your trauma being recreated in front of your face” kind taken to the extreme to fit the real message of the book:

The Batman is a failure because of his antiquated moral code.

“I don’t know what clouds your judgement worse. Your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality.” - Jason Todd, Under the Red Hood

You broke DC with this one Judd, and it has never recovered.

[leviathanverse]

B-brothers?

( This is a what if? in The Hunter Assassin book. What if there were three other dragons that were still captured and part of the family of Hantengu? What if there weren't just seven, but ten Forest dragons? And what if they nearly kill the one that saved them in front of the brothers and father? Only way to find out is to read the journey and danger that awaits.)

The cave was damp and cold, dragons inhabiting it and in a cuddle pile for warmth. Their father, Hantengu, got found and rescued as well as their overprotective uncle, Urami by the human that rescued them. Their uncle had sharper claws than their father, but still blunt and unable to cut into flesh. He also had shorter wings, just like Hantengu but a bit bigger to accommodate his impressive size.

The dark red dragon, always scowling even in his sleep, was the one with the warmest scales among the seven dragons. They were the only seven true Demon Forest Dragons left. If they were to be killed, then their species would go extinct. Entirely, wiped out from existence.

But tonight wasn't going to be the same as all the other nights. The night would end up being one of trauma and the death of their rescuer.

Unlike the other calm and peaceful nights.

Ears flicked, perking up at the sound of someone screaming and growls from far away. The youngest of the seven dragons lifted his head and stood up so quickly many would have sworn that he could have fallen over.

The other six were alerted and got up slowly. Their father hid behind their uncle, shaking and whimpering. The fear he had for what was going on out there in their forest made it impossible to NOT stop shaking.

The youngest dragon went bipedal, snarling as his tail swished aggressively from side to side. He wasn't happy with whatever was out there, hunting in THEIR territory.

It wasn't just him though. His brothers and uncle were also not happy. They were not happy with intruders in their territory. Urami took a step forward, only to back up when the oldest brother, Sekido, hissed at him.

Just as the youngest brother, Zohakuten, got ready to step out of the cave, a familiar human in black stumbled in the cave. Their mask was off, blood dripping from their mouth and they were covered in blood.

" Zohak-"

The dragon immediately ran to them just as they began to fall, nudging them with his paw as he made a soft whine. But he quickly growled when three strong scents hit his nose.

He snarled, standing over the human protectively. He waited for whatever came towards him to get the human. But he quickly grabbed the human by the back of their shirt between his teeth and jumped back. In time to dodge a white light that would have hit him and the human if he hadn't reacted fast enough.

His brothers and uncle snarled, father shaking as the fear grew worse. Everyone waited, waiting for whatever used that white fire power to come in the cave and attack them. Anything in its power to grab ahold of the human.

But it was quiet, as if the intruder had decided that it was not worth it to get the human.

The human that saved his brothers from being used in fighting rings or worse: skinned for their tough and strong skin and scales. He put the human down, his guard down. So was everyone else's guards down.

Big mistake.

Before anyone could react, a small ball rolled into the cave. Zohakuten didn't trust it, and was right to do so. Because in the next second, it exploded with light that blinded them all. Except Hantengu, as he was behind Urami.

They roared at the sudden blindness they got, bumping into each other as they stepped around, bipedal. Sekido was quick to recover, and saw a white dragon enter the cave, staring at the human with its white eyes.

He snarled and charged at the opponent on all fours, tackling the intruder while the intruder began fighting him as well. However, the white dragon didn't even try to do any damage on him. Mostly defending itself from the blows he was landing on it.

He managed to kick the intruder out of the cave, getting up quickly to charge at them. But stopped when he saw the size of them. They were small, smaller than Zohakuten but had wings bigger than him, Hantengu and Urami.

He observed, guard completely down before he got tackled by another dragon. He snarled, electricity building on his body before Karaku, the second oldest, attacked the other dragon. Urogi, third oldest, joined Karaku to attack the other dragon.

The new dragon was the same size as Karaku, if not a bit bigger. They had silver eyes, a silver crown of some sort with a dark blue and white kimono. Their wings were damaged, tears in their tailfins. Even one of their wings had half of it missing!

They opened their jaws and revealed something unexpected. Their tongue was pitchblack, so was the interior of their mouth.

It was terrifying, as no dragon he had ever seen in his entire life had a black mouth and tongue. Not one species. It almost seemed to... intimidate him, in some odd way. Even the saliva was black.

Karaku and Urogi froze, also somehow intimidated. They quickly brushed it off, however and circled the more injured and larger dragon. Like a pack of wolves circling a deer. Sekido snapped out of it too when the white dragon took off a veil that covered its mouth, a white light came from its jaws before it fired at him.

He was blinded, stumbling back. He was angry, electricity danced on his wings and tail. He was so going to rip this one apart, limb to limb. However, he recovered and went to attack when he saw Aizetsu ontop of them, claws threatening to tear open their throat.

He rumbled at Aizetsu, before sensing something was off. Zohakuten used his wood manipulation to trap the two dragons in roots, growling at them with rage. The silver eyed dragon hissed, tail swishing back and forth as a sign of agitation.

Urami was at the cave entrance, using his body to protect Hantengu who was behind him. He bared his teeth at the two intruders, the human in one of hid paws and still unconscious. The bleeding stopped, but it didn't mean that their wounds were minor. There was a large gash on their thigh.

They were not happy with the two intruders. Especially if they hurt the human that rescued all seven of them and possibly the two dragons. Zohakuten opened his wings, trying to intimidate the larger dragon. But they were not phased, which shocked him.

The white one, however, reacted. They screeched, trilled and swished their tail like a whip. The larger dragon only seemed get aggressive towards him.

Knowing this, Zohakuten approached the white dragon instead and stood in front of them. Now that he got a closer look at their futile attempts of trying to escape, he could see scars littering their face. Small, but noticeable when up close.

The dark blue dragon hissed at him, the temperatures around them dropped so suddenly. It wasn't winter yet, and the only explanation was one of the two dragons.

Sekido snarled at the larger one, which earned him a loud roar in return. The temperatures dropped even more, before Zohakuten folded his wings. He stopped putting fear into the white dragon.

He thought the smaller dragon would stop and be grateful, but he was wrong. A white ball was created in front of them, the very same ball that exploded and caused an explosion of very bright light.

He covered his eyes, and so did the others. Except the dark blue dragon. They were clearly disoriented and unfocused after the explotion of the bright light. Not having been able to cover their eyes with their tail or limbs.

The temperatures rose back to normal. Which meant that the dark blue dragon was the one to have caused the sudden drop in temperature. It was... interesting.

The white dragon still panicked, screeching before they began to fire the white light from their jaws at everyone. The brothers jumped back and distanced themselves from the white dragon.

It was a bit dangerous, as they didn't know what was the extent of the damage they could inflict. It wasn't like their scales were tough enough to block most of the damage, but it was more like HOW many wounds it could inflict with just one shot. Especially how long it would take them all to regenerate.

They didn't want to risk it. Especially with dragons that seemed to have been rescued by Y/n. If so, then why attack the one that saved them? Zohakuten snarled, slowly backing away towards Urami and his father. He had to protect the human, his family after years of not seeing them.

Aizetsu screeched when blood dropped onto him from above, the dark red liquid smelled like rotten meat. Dragon blood. No other blood smelled like rotten flesh. Not even animals. Their blood smelled sweet, but not as sweet as human blood. Human flesh was a delicacy, due to their sweet and succulent flesh.

Urogi looked up, and snarled when he saw a deep magenta coloured dragon in the tree where Aizetsu stood underneath. Their pupils were sharp and focused. They had massive wings, and was even larger than Urami! Their horns were larger, tail white with sharp spikes.

Zohakuten glared, opening his jaws and hissed, ears pinned. He wasn't happy. Not in the slightest. There were not only two but THREE intruders! He was going to show them who was the owner of this territory, who was the

He was about to charge at the one in the tree! When Aizetsu began to screech and roar in pain, clutching his chest where his heart would be. Everyone became on edge. Everyone except the white and silver eyed dragons.

Sekido shook his head and snarled too, Aizetsu still whining and roaring in pain. As if the blood of the magenta dragon did damage to him. Physically. Urogi was behind the dragon, and the intruder didn't seem to notice him until they got pinned by his brother.

They snarled under Urogi, who growled warningly in return. Zohakuten turned arounf and looked at the human in Urami's paws, and lowered his ears. He whined and approached the older dragon.

Urami looked at Zohakuten approach him, and motioned for him to go in the cave. Zohakuten could hear the other three dragons snarl at his brothers, who also snarled at them. He took the human in one paw and entered the cave Urami guarded the entrance of. Hantengu looked at his youngest son, and followed suit.

Karaku snarled at the white one now, who growled surprisingly loud for a dragon their size. It was weird coming from a small dragon. But it was also normal, in a way. Not something other dragons would see everyday.

Aizetsu stopped whining and roaring in pain after Urogi pinned the third dragon. So the blood did have something to do with Aizetsu's sudden pain. So the magenta one was the one they should avoid being drizzled in blood by? Got it.

Sekido approached the one under Urogi, and sniffed. He froze, pupils rounded and tail relaxed. His wings were relaxed next to his sides. He sniffed again, and made a soft growl.

The dragon snarled at him, ears pinned down with saliva connected from the top- and bottom jaw. They were defensive and aggressive, two reasons he understood completely.

Urogi looked at the dragon under him, and snarled. But was quickly silenced by Sekido's sudden hiss at him. He was confused at the sudden action of his older brother, but didn't bother to try to question it.

Sekido looked at the two trapped in the roots Zohakuten had manipulated. Could they...? He slowly approached them and sniffed them too. Same smell... just like them... He looked at the others and made a sharp, yet demanding trill.

Zohakuten poked his head out from the cave, and glared at the three dragons. Sekido snarled at him, approached Zohakuten and quietly growled something in his ears. Zohakuten's eyes widened as his pupils rounded.

The roots immediately let go of the two intruders, while Urogi also let go of the magenta one. The dark blue one stood protectively in front of the white one. The magenta dragon ran towards the two, jumping into a tree and onto a branch that was right above the two of them.

Sekido turned his attention to Urami and Hantengu, motioning for them to come to the group. He growled something in the group, and their eyes widened in shock and surprise. All except for Zohakuten.

They all turned to look at the three dragons, only to see that they had vanished. Where were they?! Where did they go?! They were going to reunite with their other brothers! So why run away from the cave that the three of them fought the seven of them? Well, five of them.

They had to find them, but first they had to wait for the next night. It was already starting to become day, and who knew where they were at this time or how far they had gotten?

-x-

He had panted, collapsing immediately after he had come to a stop. His two brothers were by his side, watching him in worry. Hyuko laid down next to him, one wing used to cover his back like a blanket. Junpei joined the pile, whimpering and hugging him tightly.

His injuries didn't heal. They would take years to properly heal after the torture and fights he had endured. His once beautiful tailfins were battered while his right wing was completely ripped in half. His left wing had a few holes in the membranes, but they would heal within a few days if he rested.

Hyuko nudged him, urging him to rest his body. He couldn't! But he was so tired, so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open. He snorted before his eyes closed, his body finally relaxed as he succumbed to sleep.

Junpei hugged his now sleeping brother tighter as more worry bubbled inside his small chest. Hyuko stopped nudging Maronu, now focusing on him. He whimpered before being nudged by his other big brother.

Hyuko rumbled softly, grooming his head a little with his tongue. It was comforting, knowing that his big brother tried to calm him down with grooming. It was nice, but he didn't let his guard down. This forest was full of danger! What if a human jumped on them?! While big brother slept?!

He whimpered while Hyuko groomed him. He was scared, but he wasn't supposed to be! He was a dragon! A powerful beast that could kill millions in just a day! But his big brothers always brought him food because he was too young to hunt.

Hyuko stopped grooming him when he heard a loud snap. He immediately jumped, hiding behind Maronu from the branch that snapped. As if his big brother would wake up and protect him.

Hyuko stood up, using his body to protectively stand over them and hissed. His ears twitched, saliva dripped from his jaws as he hissed. He hissed even louder when the five dragons they fought came out of the bush.

The green one came forward while the others stayed back. His big brother hissed at him, and scratched his arms to draw blood. He was ready to fight to protect him and Maronu from them.

Until he smelled it. Their scent was similar to his and his brothers' smells. He chirped, causing his brother to look at him. He looked at his brother, growling softly as he cautiously made his way towards the other dragons.

Hyuko kept a close eye, snarling as he watched his younger brother approached the ones that protected that- that human! He growled and sniffed the air too, muscles tensed up as he caught their smell.

They smelled just like Manoru, Junpei and him. Were... were they their brothers? But why did they protect that human? Was it because they were saving it for last?

They had found their brothers... He was happy! Now they wouldn't have to worry about being attacked by humans! Hyuko approached them too, rumbling lowly when Junpei flinched when they made a single movement.

They were reunited with their other family. It felt nice. Junpei greeted then, opening his little feathered wings and the feathered one did the same thing. Hyuko turned around and went back to Manoru. He stared at his brother and went bipedal to pick him up.

They found their brothers... They finally found the family they had been searching for, for years. Hyuko took a step towards their long lost brothers, before snarling. He smelled a human. The same human that released them from their prison.

They wanted to make them fight! He had to kill them! He had to protect his brothers! He took a step back, growling at the purple winged brother. He smelled the human's scent on him, he knew that he had eaten the human. He just didn't trust or know how the scent was still there.

He watched as his brother came back as soon as he also got a whiff of the human's scent. He knew that digestion had to take place and that such a small creature already had to be digested. Why were they protecting a human?!

He didn't trust his long lost brothers anymore. They were manipulated! They had to be! Why else would they protect a human?!

One of his brothers, the green one, dared to approach him and his two brothers. He snarled louder and lowered his upper torso to put his brother on the ground again and stand over him. His wings opened, revealing black membranes underneath the wings.

He didn't trust them anymore. Not one bit. The green brother rumbled at them, trying to coax them to calm down and that the human was harmless to them. That the human saved them from being used in fighting rings or worse.

He snarled, hissing as the spikes on his tail raised to show his anger. He was massive compared to everyone, his strength impressive. However, he didn't know about the one that held the human. He looked strong, despite his appearance.

He didn't trust anything now. He didn't trust anyone except for Junpei and Maronu. They wanted to protect the one species that gave them hell instead of protecting them! Maronu protected them! He did everything to make sure Junpei and him were protected! Made sure that they received minor injuries unlike him!

He won't let them get hurt again. Especially his protective brother.

-x-

It took them around more than three hours to convince their other brother that the human saved them. Three hours of them snarling and hissing at them. They had to convince them that not all humans were evil.

Zohakuten had regurgitated the human after the magenta dragon promised to not hurt them. To say that he didn't growl would be a lie. They still didn't believe them, and made themselves at home outside the cave.

It was better than them getting ready to fight again. It wasn't what they wanted though. They wanted to be with them, but the magenta one, who they knew as Hyuko, kept snarling at them. As if they were the enemy all along.

It didn't set well with Sekido. Nether he or Hantengu thought it sat well with them. Hantengu, with all his courage, went outside to meet the sons he didn't know his now dead mate had.

To say that Hyuko was a bit aggressive would be debatable. He was protective, and even had saliva drip from his jaws, teeth ready to draw his own blood and give him physical pain.

Hantengu gave a soft but shaky rumble, a friendly sound that he hoped his son would take as a truce. He looked at Junpei, maybe the youngest son compared to Zohakuten, and smiled.

Hyuko stopped snarling, but did not lower his guard. Hantengu felt hurt, but knew to respect Hyuko's boundaries. Especially with how he took on the roll of protector so quickly.

Whatever those humans did to them to make them think Y/n would hurt them must have been horrible. Even seeing their own saviour as one of them. They must have gone through so much, if Maronu's injuries were to go by.

Even when he slept, his muscles were still tense. It would take a long time to get them to trust Y/n. Maybe an entire year or three. Maybe more.

Hopefully they will warm up to the human.

Note: This took three days. And I am so tired. And fan art is more than welcome.

[fairandfatalasfair]

i want to know about Fenders_AngstCrack plsplspls

:D :D :D

This fic started as just a dumping ground for all of my sad-fucked-up-self-destructive-Anders feelings (hence the title) and then I showed it to @lesetoilesfous and her cheerleading turned it into like... an actual fic with an outline, which is now probably about 1/2 written? but currently slow progress.

It's a post-DA2 fic with the premise that Sebastian captured Anders shortly after the end of DA2, and proceeded to hold him prisoner indefinitely while carrying out some fairly nasty psychologically-targeted vengeance. And then a year or two later Fenris agrees to do Sebastian a favour and check out the rumours coming out of Haven, and Sebastian offers to send a (much-altered) Anders along as backup. Which leads to Fenris trailing a very messed up Anders across half of Thedas while trying to 1. figure out what happened to him, 2. fix it, & 3. not spontaneously combust from how much of his own history this is bringing up.

It's a lot of me poking at the idea of trauma and how it's painful and heartbreaking and sad but also annoying and inconvenient and socially awkward and inclined to make you have stupid blow-up fights because you were talking about different things. And also me indulging in Fenris as a cynical knight in shining armour, riding to the rescue half against his will, even as he tries to convince himself that he's probably misreading those red flags, and everything is probably fine actually (it's not. he knows it's not.) And also Anders being a stubborn determined bastard who has recovered from spending a year in solitary confinement once and will do it again, he just. needs a minute.

(snippet under cut)

"Anders hesitated, shifting some of the sticks to expose a bed of coals.

“I don't know that I'm the best person to ask,” he said. “You're talking to someone who ran away from the circle for the first time when he was thirteen.” He poked at the coals, shifted the food a little closer to the heat. “But no,” he admitted, “for the most part they're not. They're not pleasant. I have no doubt that those children have seen friends killed by templars, or branded, or raped, or driven to suicide. But those are outliers, the ones who get unlucky, or are prone to making trouble, like me. For most mages it's...easier. Still miserable, but better than freezing to death on the streets.”

He settled back on the dirt, watching the shimmering coals. Fenris turned the words over in his mind, considering.

Three years ago, he might have told the mage to count his blessings; that there were many who froze to death in the streets and had no other options. And it was true that there were many in Thedas for whom shelter, however unsafe, and food, however conditional, would seem a luxury.

But even as he said the words, he would not have meant them. They were the words of the magisters who had argued that slavery was a public good, because without it the streets would be crowded with beggars. A barb thrown out to get a rise out of the mage, because that was what they did. Because the rhythm of jab and counter between them was familiar and comfortable and because the hunger in Anders’ eyes when Fenris argued with him made him feel like his good opinion was worth fighting for."

[kakyoinswifey]

at the time someone asked me for this request, i was obsessed with lover by taylor swift. currently, i'm in love with that song again. so guess what? i'm writing for jotaro + lover again because i want and i can.

lover — jotaro kujo x reader

genre ; angst, comfort and a bit of fluff?

cw ; two people with traumas trying to stay together to get over it and obliviously falling in love, this will deal with the sc characters' death.

fuck grammar mistakes, I'm sleepy.

Meeting people who understand you and love you as such is complicated. You've known it forever, relationships are very complex, but even when you thought it would be almost impossible to connect in that special way, you found yourself in the middle of a dangerous journey full of bizarre adventures. It was funny to see how everything you thought was unattainable, came to you in such a short time, but it was funnier to see how fate took it from you as soon as it had given it to you.

For the thousandth time, you stood in front of that photographic frame in which you were with your friends. Your index finger approached to caress the faces that were no longer with you, or those that had separated from you. The red-haired boy who used to joke around while eating cherries, the young man who acted as the wise and responsible adult of the group, even the canine who had arrived halfway through the journey or the impulsive Frenchman who always got into trouble, at least he was fine, but you couldn't see him because of the distance... You had the opportunity to interact in different ways with them, but you knew that that trip, even if it was only 50 days, felt like years of familiarity and friendship.

Despite everything you could and wanted to believe, you knew you weren't okay. Your tears fell silently, not really wanting to be found crying again. Grieving could be hard, but you had to appear strong to avoid explaining your feelings. It wasn't the healthiest, but you thought that would help you. You were wrong, specially if you had a friend like Jotaro, so thorough that he could always read you.

Cautiously entering the room that had been kindly provided to you in his house, you heard Kujo's heavy footsteps approaching you. You tried to wipe your eyes before he saw you, but it was useless. You couldn't lie to him.

"You don't need to hide it." You heard his voice, husky but soft and kind just for you. "At least not from me."

You slowly turned to face him. How did he keep from collapsing? It was impossible for him not to feel anything after all of it, you knew that he also had a giant burden on himself for what had happened, but he seemed so… normal about it. He just kept quiet like before. He used to visit you a few times a day to see how you were doing. You were recovering from your own physical and emotional wounds at his house, to prevent your family from asking about them when you finally come home again.

"I know." You said. His gaze headed to that photograph before his eyes fell on you. You decided to put your eyes on his face too, but this time was different, you could see for a fraction of time the softness of his gestures. It was hurting him just as it did to you. He also wanted to lock up his feelings to avoid explaining himself.

You recognized the similarity that you had in that moment. Could you ever fully heal? Could you forget everything that happened? All that you have lost? Maybe not. There was even the possibility that you would never forget or get over it. But, still, there was a tiny hope for you two.

A little but bright hope.

Your hand slowly reached towards his cheek, afraid of being rejected, but it didn't happen. You could see his eyes closing to await your touch. His skin was cold, perhaps it was the weather in Japan and the strong wind that blew at this time of night. Or even the same reason why your body was freezing too. As if your soul was missing.

"You shouldn't hide it from me either, Jotaro." You whispered, not wanting to push him or his feelings. It would be fine when he was ready. "You've cared so much for me, but have you even given yourself time to grieve what we've lost?"

He didn't expect to hear that. It was as if everything he had built his personality on, his way of being and his tough reputation had really lost its meaning. Your soft and understanding gaze made his heart sink. "It's okay to cry. You told me that the first day, right? Now I'm telling you. It's okay to cry, Jojo. It doesn't make you any less brave or strong."

He didn't say anything. You feared that you made him uncomfortable, and silence filled the room, but before you could apologize, you could see him bite his lip hard. The aquamarine in his eyes had always had a sparkle to them, sometimes determined, sometimes even mischievous, but now they were glistening with moisture building in them.

Your hand left his cheek. Cautiously reaching down, you took his and laced your fingers with his own. You sighed raggedly, it felt like you'd shaken something off of yourself. You thought about not invading his personal space anymore, but those strong arms took you by surprise as they caught you in them. He forced himself not to let out a single sound, not a gasp or ragged breath. Nor was it necessary. You knew he was crying.

You understood his reasons for not displaying his own suffering. If he felt guilty about the deaths of his friends, how would his mother feel? The one for which they risked their lives and unfortunately lost. Holy was a sweet and kind woman, knowing that her son suffered from everything that happened on the trip could affect her. Jotaro wasn't about to let her know.

And yet, now you were able to open the shell that covered him. You once again felt the moist warmth running down your cheeks. Your smaller arms in comparison to his wrapped him with the same love and kindness he had showed to you before. That seemed to break him more. It was a broken whisper that escaped his lips. "I should have done something else, been there and prevent-"

"Don't blame yourself for anything that has happened." You sentenced. They were firm words, but not abrupt. "You are not to blame for anything."

Even in the position they were in, in the middle of a hug and against the difference in height, you were able to tangle your fingers in his hair. You had discovered during the trip that Jotaro liked it a lot, even when he refused between games and laughs that tried to avoid you.

It was funny how you could see through him even when Jotaro confronted your intentions to get closer, maybe it was your impulsive attitude and not wanting to give up that you ended up being his confident. A kind of relationship that was different from his one with Kakyoin or Polnareff. He was able to trust you, fight by your side, laugh, play and spend free time with you. The same thing he did with his friends, but it felt different.

They didn't tickle his heart every time they gave him a smile.

And although, very blindly, he had not realized it before, he had just thought about it. He had a weakness that allowed him to always be flexible and open his heart to you. Crying in front of someone else was something unthinkable for him, but now he had you caged in his arms while you were trying to comfort him.

"I think we should stay together." You said, without even thinking twice. You had to resist the urge to cover your mouth to try to prevent him from hearing you.

It was kinda late.

He heard you.

And even when you thought that you had been a fool with your words, you felt his hand caress your face before lifting a little from you. You were intimidated by the idea of ​​being abandoned when you felt so fragile, but it didn't happen.

His lips rested on your cheek for a second. A show of affection that he did not usually give. And he looked you in the eyes again.

"I think that would be fine..." His words trailed off heavily due to the storm of thoughts he was having. "As long as it's what you want."

Your eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty and your confused eyes wandered anywhere but his face. His hand started to caress your face, it was a feeling you had never felt before with him.

Devotion.

As the time passed between the two of you and your whining talk about how noisy Polnareff was or how nice the places to travel to were, you knew there was more to him than just a handsome face and a rude attitude. Jotaro was one of those people who were strong, he was an intelligent and calm man, but he could be careful and he respected someone's ideals and honor very much. His calculating but somehow carefree personality had captivated you.

You were sure you didn't want to see him suffer anymore. You wanted to be the one to brighten his days and motivate him to continue, as he did with you.

"Do you really mean it?" You asked confused, hoping for some reassurance. "Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close?"

The height gap was something. The tip of his nose rubbed against the bridge of yours. It felt like a need. Like cats, when they try to show affection and reciprocation. And then he planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, before answering you.

"Forever and ever."

That's when you two understood. They had been friends during that trip, never realizing how much the other meant to the other. The idea of ​​losing the other was not in your plans, but it had been that final disaster that finally made you understand.

Finding your best friend after living a life without being understood was good.

Finding your first love without even expecting it was surprising but you could have known during it.

But those words fell far short of this. You two had found your lover. A person you could trust and love, a person with whom you wanted to share dreams and sorrows with. A person with whom you would share a life.

You found a lover in each other.

[azems-familiar]

okay, okay, under the cut: a loose conglomeration of lore about my Warrior of Light. aka my best attempt at summarizing the key emotional beats of five expansions, which is not a summary at all, and also giving a brief overview of my Azem

Warrior of Light

(art by moonlitalien)

Name: Lelesu Lesu

Age: 27 during Endwalker, 22 at the start of ARR

Pronouns: she/her

Classes: red mage, sage (dabbled in marauder and white mage before drifting away from them for various reasons)

Relationships: Haurchefant (briefly), Aymeric; queerplatonic with Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus

some lore about her:

Lelesu was born in Ul'dah and grew up as part of the wealthy merchant-noble class that makes up its high society. She absolutely despised the neat box of a life her parents tried to keep her in, and ended up sort-of running away from home to join the Adventurers' Guild in Limsa Lominsa, cutting all ties with her blood family and picking up adventuring and an axe to strike out on her own, in search of the freedom to define her own life. She joins up with the Scions willingly, happy to help make a difference, especially when it becomes obvious that she's one of a handful of people capable of facing primals, but it doesn't become really personal until the massacre at the Waking Sands, where she loses most of the first people she genuinely called friends.

She gets pretty close with Haurchefant while they're in Coerthas the first time, and in the aftermath of becoming the Warrior of Light she treasures that connection because it's one of the few places she doesn't feel like she has to be the responsible, duty-bound Hero version of herself the WoL is. Even with, maybe especially with tbh, the other Scions there's that sort of distance between them, because they're her friends and her coworkers but they also expect the same sort of miracles out of her as the rest of Eorzea, through no fault of their own.

She's actually furious with Midgardsormr when he removes the blessing of Light. Has no interest in proving herself to him at first, because she blames him for Nabriales breaching the Rising Stones, which of course led to Moenbryda's death. Eventually the blame shifts to herself instead - she feels like if she'd been stronger, she wouldn't have lost the blessing to begin with. This is a theme that comes back during Heavensward, too - she was a white mage before she picked up red mage, and so when Haurchefant (who she was very much in love with) throws himself in front of that spear for her, she's the one who tries to heal him, and she fails. In some ways, she blames the loss of the blessing of Light and her own weakness for his death. If she'd just been stronger, been a better Warrior of Light, etc, then he wouldn't have died. And he should've known better than to try to protect her, Hydaelyn wouldn't have let her die. Etc.

For a while here she completely stops using white magic entirely, which is a problem - red mage is all about balance, using white and black magic equally, and without drawing on both kinds of power you can't perform certain abilities, plus it has a whole mechanic where the further off-balance you get the harder it is to cast in the opposite direction and fix yourself. So she's off-balance in her aether, and that makes her even more reckless and emotionally off-balance, and she's struggling to grieve and sort of stuck living in the moment of Haurchefant's death, which makes her quest against Thordan a kind of revenge quest. She isn't really able to start learning to move forward again and recovering from that loss until she spends a bunch of time helping Aymeric build the new peace in Ishgard and teach the people to move on from their broken past, and that slowly leads her to work through her pain and trauma over the months.

Stormblood is...not really very much in the way of character development, but it is where she kisses Aymeric for the first time, just before she leaves to go to Doma, so it gets an honorable mention.

On the other hand a lot of insanity happens in Shadowbringers. She gets a nice new facial scar courtesy of Elidibus-as-Zenos when G'raha summons her out of her body during that fight (Aymeric is Deeply Freaked Out). Once she's in the First, she's dealing with a whole lot of confusing emotions and instincts related to Emet-Selch - her first impression when they properly meet is both that it hurts to look at him, for some inexplicable reason, and also wariness, the kind you'd have for a rabid animal, because there's just something so Wrong to her about the way he acts. This goes along nicely with the instinct she has to trust him that also makes no sense, so she's running around trying to save two worlds from the same calamity while dealing with the most confusing emotional state ever. This doesn't get much better when she gives in and starts spending time asking him questions and just talking to him, in a way the rest of the Scions won't do, because he feels familiar to her, like she should recognize him but can't.

This gets a thousand times worse when she drags her shattering soul down to Amaurot-beneath-the-sea to rescue G'raha, feeling like an absolute failure of a Warrior of Darkness the whole time. Amaurot itself feels incredibly familiar to her and also makes her want to cry because of the immense feelings of loss it evokes, she's already attuned to the aetheryte in the depths (I do not care if this is lore-appropriate or not it's fun), she feels like she knows Hythlodaeus, by the time they confront Emet-Selch again she's half-demanding half-begging him for answers he won't give because he's deep in denial and also wants her to remember him herself. She breaks down crying when she's forced to kill him in the end and doesn't know why.

Endwalker is just....A Fucking Mess. She's so done with Zenos's shit, her duty keeps weighing her down, everything is horrible. The body-swap bit really messes with her for a while and it takes time to recover from. Plus the whole thing with Zodiark - she didn't want to kill Zodiark, just weaken Him so the Watcher could bind Him again. She didn't want to permanently kill all those souls! She recovers bits and pieces of memories whenever she uses Azem's crystal to summon people, enough to be able to tell Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus, and Venat that she is a reincarnation of Azem, but she doesn't regain her memories in full until Ultima Thule, when she summons Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus to help her against Meteion at the end. With those memories regained she's able to convince the two of them to stay with her and give the future a try; moving on is something none of them knew how to do before but she's had to learn to live through grief and come to terms with it anyway and she wants desperately to show them both how as well.

She considers Ishgard her home, and the Fortemps family as her chosen family - she's actually sworn brotherhood with Artoirel. And she considers herself Azem still, in the terms of Azem is a duty to the people that she has believed in basically since she became the Warrior of Light, and she won't let go of it.

In the final fight with Zenos at Ultima Thule, she very nearly dies, and he breaks her glasses against her face, severely injuring her right eye, among other things. Though she doesn't lose the eye it ends up solid white from scar tissue and she's completely blind in it - but she does end up learning how to see the aether through that eye alone.

Azem

(art by my friend nimrowen on discord)

Name: Seleukos

Class: black mage, has training with a sword thanks to Venat

Pronouns: they/them

Age: ohhh man idk probably somewhere around a century by the Sundering? don't ask

Relationships: queerplatonic triad with Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch

if i get into my lore about them we'll be here all day so just read this fic I wrote full of the important flashbacks and whatnot instead

i also have a very fleshed-out AU where Lelesu is the WoL alongside @sunderedazem's Corrain, but this post will turn monstrous if i go into ANY details about that. so just know it exists and we'll both answer asks about it. lol

[jimblejamblewritings]

little situation | part 1.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader (all clearly platonic and I’m only making that note on the first part)

Word Count: 2.4k

(Series Masterlist)

The absolute last thing the Avengers wanted to see in a busted down shawarma shop was a pristine looking Nick Fury. They sighed and took aggressive bites of their food as the Director stepped into the restaurant, trying to avoid the rubble.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your fun—”

“Are you really?” Tony cut him off but Nick continued as if he didn’t.

“You’re needed back at S.H.I.E.L.D. we have a little situation involving Cap.”

“Little situation?”

“About, ye big.” Nick held up a hand at a height in between his chest and waist.

No one knew what the hell he meant. They took final bites and dragged their bodies from the chairs and followed Nick. Thor, Steve, and Bruce were already feeling less tired making the other three Avengers a little jealous as they made their way to headquarters. Nick guided them to the large conference room and left for a brief moment. When he returned, the newly formed Avengers looked at the kid tucked behind him. Your hair was tangled and matted which stood out against the small S.H.I.E.L.D. t-shirt turned dress you wore that had you looking relatively clean… and you were barefoot?

“Oh, an actual little situation. When in the hell did you get a kid?” Tony asked.

“She’s not mine dumbass, that’s where Captain Rogers comes in.”

The team turned to look at Steve who seemed just as shocked and confused. Nick pointed you to the empty chair beside Steve. You quietly walked over, hands clasped behind your back, and sat down. You pulled the chair into the table and only looked at Nick, not knowing anyone else in the room. Although you barely knew the director, but a few hours was more than the rest of the people at the table.

There were two thoughts going in the Avengers’ heads. One, how the hell did Steve have a child who was clearly too old to be right after he was taken off ice. And two, you looked absolutely nothing like Steve. Brown hair, skin, and eyes. Everything opposite the Abercrombie & Fitch poster boy.

“Miss Rogers was rescued from a HYDRA facility, an attempt at reopening the Red Room. Along with Dr. Erskine’s stolen notebooks apparently some of your DNA was also stolen, Cap. Miss Rogers is the first child to survive after birth.”

“You’re positive she’s the only one?” Clint asked, his fatherly instincts already kicking in.

“Yes. While we couldn’t recover Dr. Erskine’s files, we found their logs. None of the other children seemed to survive, inheriting some of Cap’s ailments from before the serum or their mothers died before giving birth.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “And when we say DNA…”

“Dr. Erskine ever hand you a cup not for a drug test… your silence answers that for me. We’ll gladly do a paternity test again with you here but from the swabs when we defrosted you, it’s a match.”

Nick tossed a file to Steve and pulled up the same one on a screen for the rest of the team to see. Steve flipped through it, seeing your age. Twelve. Born at the turn of the new millennium. According to the file, HYDRA picked your mother based on IQ— apparently one that could rival Tony or Bruce— kidnapping her when on a graduate trip to Russia. You were supposed to be the perfect combination of the best attributes… and then they killed your mother in front of you when you were old enough to process death. HYDRA spent years trying to break you so they could send you into the Red Room and remold you as the perfect spy. But instead of breaking you, they just made you retreat into your shell.

“Miss Rogers did inherit some of your former ailments, Cap. Partial deafness and color blindness.”

“You were color blind?” Nat asked at the same time Clint asked about him being deaf.

“Yeah, born deaf in my right ear and deutan color blindness. Made it hard to tell the difference blue and purple most times, not too bad. The asthma and scarlet fever was a lot worse.”

Steve looked back at your file and saw it was recorded that you had moderate deafness also in your right ear, which was the current side of your face he was staring at, but you were hard of hearing in the other. Your color blindness was the same as his. He frowned as he searched for an identification other than Rogers. He tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to look at him.

“What’s your name? They didn’t include it.”

“001.”

Steve looked back at the table. “You’re kidding, they didn’t even… your mother didn’t name you?”

“They wouldn’t let her.”

“Do you have one you’d like?”

You just shrugged and looked at the floor before looking back up realizing you’d need to read his lips for ease of conversation.

“Is Sarah okay?”

You nodded.

“That was my mom’s name… do you know your mother’s?”

You brought your knees up and grabbed them as the tears started. Quickly you panicked and wiped them away mumbling sorry. Steve almost reached out and then pulled back, thinking it was a bad idea. You were used to getting hit by agents at the facility if you cried.

“No one’s going to hurt you here for showing emotions,” Natasha spoke up, hoping that you would hear a little bit since your head was currently buried. She knew exactly what you were going through.

You kept crying and they knew you didn’t. When your knees brushed against the table, Clint started knocking on it. The vibrations made you look up at him and he tapped his own ears, drawing your attention to his hearing aids. Clint signed what Nat had said.

“Elise,” you said looking back at Steve.

“Alright, Sarah Elise Rogers. That sound good to you?”

When you nodded, Steve seemed satisfied. They disbanded and he pulled Tony and Clint aside. Right away, Tony agreed to getting you fitted with hearing aids like Clint only in a color that worked for you. And Clint agreed to help him with sign language.

“I thought you would’ve known a bit.”

Clint was sitting outside the lab with Steve, watching Tony fit you with hearing aids.

“My mother told me to read lips and always turn to the left. She was Irish and a single mom, she didn’t want another reason for people to look down on us.”

“I’m sorry man… are you sure you can take care of a kid? Don’t tell anyone else I told you but I’ve got a small family farm, my wife and I don’t mind another little one running around. Well, older one. She beats Coop by barely two years.”

“Thank you. I don’t know if I can do it at all but I don’t think I should leave her. She needs at least one of her real parents.”

“Commendable, Cap. You ever need any help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Let’s hope I don’t mess the kid up.”

“Anything away from the Red Room is already an improvement for her.”

Tony pressed the button on your (f/c) aids to turn them on.

“How’s that… too loud?” He said as you clutched the left ear.

Tony readjusted it to account for the fact that your left side wasn’t as bad as your right.

“How bout now kid?”

You blinked rapidly and looked around.

“Should I be able to hear them outside the lab?”

“You can hear them?!”

Tony apologized when he saw how quickly you hung your head after he yelled. He had to reassure you that you weren’t in trouble and he wasn’t yelling out of anger at you but surprise. Tony left you in the lab and walked out with a set of hearing aids. He shoved them into Clint’s hand and the man automatically began exchanging his for the new ones.

“Sarah? Start talking,” Tony said at a normal level. “Clint, can you hear her?”

“No, why?”

“Turn it all the way up, now?”

“Still nothing.”

“Steve can you hear her?”

“Yeah no problem. Why?”

“Cause once I put the hearing aids on she could hear you two. Your ailments from before are like a layer on top of the serum but once peeled back she’s just like you… better watch what you say when the kid has them in.”

“Thank you, Tony. Both of you. Sarah, let’s go,” he called into the lab.

The three men watched you hop down from the table and enter the hallway, the too large shoes that had been given to you by a random agent flopping about. Tony and Clint stayed back and looked on as Steve gently placed a hand on your shoulder to guide you with him out of the building. It was the weirdest picture but if anyone could pull it off, they thought it might be Steve.

~~

“It’s not much, but I wasn’t expecting a second person exactly,” Steve said as he opened the door to his D.C. apartment.

You two had landed from New York when it got dark outside.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled an apology.

“Nothing to be sorry for Sarah. You stay right here, get comfortable. My house is our house now.”

Steve left to knock on his neighbor’s door, hoping the blonde woman would be there and not already starting the night shift of her hospital job. A few knocks later and she opened the door.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hello Kate, um, this is going to be weird but I have a kid and her mom’s passed so she’s living with me now but I don’t have anything for a little girl. Would it be at all possible— just for tonight and maybe tomorrow morning— then we’ll go shopping,” Steve stumbled over his words.

“How old?”

“She’s twelve.”

“Hmm, let me check real quick. I’m bound to have some smaller items.”

His neighbor came back with more than enough for the night and next morning. She handed them to Steve with a warm smile.

“Thank you so much.”

Steve returned to find that you hadn’t moved from where he had left you. Still frozen in place, hands behind back.

“You don’t have to wait for me to say anything. This really is your place too now Sarah. Here, the bathroom is the middle door. You hungry?”

You nodded and took the pile of clothes to the guest bathroom. Steve started scrambling around to find something to make. He realized that even though it was late, most pizza places were still open so he placed an order for a simple large cheese pizza— half with pepperoni. Steve wasn’t sure if HYDRA had ever given you a pizza so this seemed like a treat? He liked pizza when he was twelve, still did now.

The smell alone of food could’ve lured you out of the bathroom. You were wearing his neighbor’s small zip up hoodie and old leggings. Steve sat down on the couch and opened the big box, beckoning you over to sit down and eat.

“Sarah? You’re not at HYDRA anymore, I won’t hurt you or let others hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid alright?”

“Alright.”

“You’re lying,” he chuckled when you looked up. “I used to lick my top lip too, right before a lie.”

“I’m so—”

“And we don’t have to apologize for something that’s not that big a deal or we didn’t do wrong. Listen, I have no clue what I’m doing and I’m sure your mother would’ve been a thousands times better but you’re mine and I’m gonna take care of you alright.”

“Alright.”

Steve sat back, knowing you told the truth. “I have shampoo and conditioner to wash your hair, get those tangles out.”

You looked down at the pizza slice. “I already tried.”

Steve looked at your hair. It wasn’t just matted, it wasn’t completely curly. He could see straight ends and bits that didn’t look as shiny as the others. Steve didn’t know anything about your hair but he was sure that it shouldn’t look like that. You knew it too.

ASL was the only thing about you that HYDRA accommodated to— but even then you were mainly yelled at and forced to read lips. But your hair, not taken care of. Your skin and nutrition, not taken care of like it should’ve been. And they never gave you hearing aids, just forced you to strain your left ear in attempts to hear them.

“I want to get rid of it,” you said after a moment. “All of it.”

“Okay, I have clippers in my bathroom. Do you want to do it now?”

You nodded and set down the pizza. Steve walked into his bathroom and you followed closely behind. He searched his lower cabinet for the clippers. Making sure the guard was on, he plugged in the clippers. Steve moved you to stand in front of him and he very carefully glided the clippers through your hair. You watched yourself in the mirror as the damaged curls hit the bathroom floor.

Steve looked at you through the mirror and then focused back on your hair. He was so unsure how he found himself in this situation, well he knew how but it was still overwhelming. Taking care of a kid was something he had never done before. He was an only child and sure he babysitted Bucky’s younger sister before but that was with Bucky. And you weren’t his younger sister but his actual kid.

You ran a hand over your newly shaven head. It was a close cut but not completely squeaky clean bald. It felt weird but also like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Like you could start over with… you didn’t know what to call Steve. He didn’t say.

“What do I call you?”

“Um, I haven’t really thought about that. Whatever you want.”

Steve waited for a suggestion from you but you said nothing. He patted your shoulder and moved to get a broom to sweep up the hair on the floor. You stared at yourself while he was gone. Maybe it was because of how you looked but you still didn’t expect Steve to be your dad. You knew how genetics worked, of course it was more likely that you looked like your mother than your father but you couldn’t see a single bit of physical resemblance to Steve. Well there was one but right now it wasn’t too noticeable. Captain America’s genes were very strong, which was kind of the point. The one physical thing was the lighter hair. Constantly dyed a dark brown almost black, your hair was actually honey blonde like Steve’s.

“You can take the bed,” Steve said as he swept the floor. “The guest bedroom has nothing in it right now. Goodnight, Sarah.”

“Night.”

(Part 2)...

[aikaterini-drag]

Chapter 16 Reminiscing

Kofi 🧡 AO3

Warnings (whole series): Violence, Non-Con Abduction, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Sexual Tension, First Time, Emotional Sex, Protective Bucky, Angst with a Happy Ending, Soft Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Barnes Gets all the Love he deserves.

Find more chapters of the "Fading Scars" Series here ♡

Grace stirred in her slumber, distressed murmurs escaping her lips as tears traced their way down her cheeks. In her nightmare, she was running, struggling to evade a relentless barrage of bullets. Smoke, screams and pain were all around her. Her eyes were blurry, her voice hoarse from screaming. It was unbearable. She wanted it to stop, but with every passing second, the vision became more and more brutal.

More details carved deeper into her consciousness. She witnessed her mother's death, she heard her cries, her screeches. She also saw Silas, her own father, as he plunged the knife into her stomach, again and again. Her sweet mother begged her to leave while crimson blood bubbled from her lips and stomach. Grace could practically feel the sticky blood drenching her skin.

Through the veil of her nightmare, she also sensed a dark figure lurking in the shadows. The unknown presence coiled its arms around her, catching her in his arms. The person forced her away from the carnage as more gunshots rang out and she shrieked, fighting to free herself. Grace realized that the person was actually protecting her. Using the smoke to his advantage, he guided her away from the chaos and as she turned to face him, she met nothing but a pair of striking blue eyes.

She could never forget these eyes.

She knew this man.

A scream ripped itself from her throat as she woke up, eyes flying open, her face covered in tears. Panic clawed at her chest, an invisible vice constricting her lungs. She struggled to get air in her lungs and glanced around, realizing that she was in her room. The moonlight poured in from the panels of Stark Tower, setting light on her pale features.

An aching pain shot straight through her mind and she curled up in pain, clutching her head in agony. The trauma had yet to leave her and more details made it in, so vivid and terrifying that her whole frame shook. Memories and flashbacks resurfaced, every piece assembling full pictures in her mind.

Her hand shot out to the bedside table, her fingers fumbling in search of her inhaler. The plastic container finally met her grasp, and she pressed it to her lips, inhaling the restorative medication. Her heart hammered erratically against her ribcage as she processed the events one by one. As she refueled her lungs with air, she realized that James had been her savior all along. The loss of her mother had traumatized her, overwhelming stress causing her to forget his existence. Another wave of tears rolled down her eyes, her breathing heavier than before.

"Grace?" Natasha's voice sliced through the room, the agent poised with a weapon in hand. "What's wrong?"

It took Grace a few fleeting moments to respond, "I—I had a nightmare. It's nothing, really."

"You were screaming." Natasha set her firearm aside with a guarded intensity. "And you're crying," she observed. The evidence of Grace's turmoil was etched upon her face – red, swollen eyes tainted with shadows.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up," Grace managed, her voice wavering as she hastily brushed her tears away with the back of her hand.

"I'll fetch the doctor."

"No, please, it's not necessary. I've been on edge with recent events. I'll be fine."

"You can't take this lightly—"

"It was just a nightmare," Grace interrupted gently. "But it felt so vivid like I was reliving it."

"What happened? Do you want to talk to me?" Natasha said, her voice soft.

"James, he saved me five years ago, right??" Grace said, her own words bringing another layer of tears to her eyes.

Natasha let out a heavy breath. "Even I don't know how he did it."

A suffocating silence took over but was soon broken by Grace's next question. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Silas led a group of eight men, including James. Their objective was to eliminate you and your mother." The spy paused, her gaze briefly connecting with Grace's. "I intercepted them but I got wounded, lost consciousness. I'm guessing that in the haze of the blood, you awoke something humane in the Winter Soldier."

Grace scrunched her brow. "And how do you know all of this?"

"For quite some time, Steve and I had kept a watchful eye on him. Hydra repeatedly brainwashed Barnes, but he always managed to prevail. It was during one of his missions as the Winter Soldier that he and Steve reconciled. From that day on, they communicated secretly, forging a plan that would end Hydra once and for all."

"James chose to hide the truth from me..." Grace muttered and slowly rubbed a hand over her chest, soothing the erratic thrumming of her heart.

"He held back because he didn't want to overwhelm you. He wanted you to remember on your own."

"Or perhaps he wanted to make sure that there were no bonds connecting us," Grace responded firmly.

"Please don't think that way," Natasha implored, her hand reaching out to gently rest on Grace's forearm.

"If only I had remembered earlier..."

Grace resisted the urge to cry, the thought of James and their shared past perching her heart like a dagger. The need to reunite with him, to thank him, to save him and come to his aid was stronger than before. He had saved her twice already and despite the torment he treated her with utter tenderness.

"Don't trouble yourself. The fact that you recalled the past is a good thing," Natasha consoled in the softest of tones.

"Yes, but now I'm hurting even more..." Grace said, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

"Use that pain to save him."

"Thank you, Natasha." Grace embraced her tenderly before drawing back with a faint smile. "You should go back to sleep. I've troubled you enough."

"Alright. I'll be here if you need—" Natasha's sentence was interrupted by an abrupt knock on the door. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of Braylon's head peeking through the opening. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard screams," Braylon replied matter-of-factly. "I'm Grace's bodyguard, remember?"

"Seems you arrived a bit late, Mr. Bodyguard," Natasha quipped, arching an eyebrow.

Braylon smiled. "You were talking and I didn't want to interrupt."

"I'm alright, Braylon. Go rest," Grace told him with a gentle smile.

"Not before I've made sure of it." Braylon insisted. "I brought you some milk. It'll help you relax."

"You really didn't have to go through the trouble," Grace mumbled as he approached, handing her the warm mug. "Thank you."

Braylon glanced at Natasha and suggested, "You can go ahead. I'll keep her company."

"Guys, I'm fine. Really!" Grace said, awkwardly clutching her warm milk.

"You still look a bit pale," Natasha said but a heavy yawn escaped her.

"And you're clearly sleepy. You yawned wide enough to fit a bike wheel!" Grace retorted, unable to hold back a laugh.

"Quite the comparison, I must say." As she slowly exited the room, Natasha rubbed her eyes and added, "Well, now that Braylon's here, I can rest easy."

"I'll stay for a few minutes," Braylon said, crouching beside the bed.

Grace looked down at him, eyes wide. "You're treating me like a child."

"And you should drink your milk like a good young lady," Braylon remarked nonchalantly.

"Alright, alright!" Grace said, taking big sips from her milk. "I'm almost done."

He chuckled. "No need to rush. Take your time."

"I hope Tony's paying you enough," she muttered. "You're doing far too much for me."

"I'm happy to do so." Braylon flashed her a grin. "Plus, I'm handsomely paid. More than you can imagine."

"Got it, got it," Grace smiled. "You really do love to boast."

"You smiled. Good. I wanted to help you forget... if only for a moment," Braylon's tone was stern before returning to its customary gentleness. "Your nightmares are tied to him, to the Winter Soldier."

"It's not his fault," she said. "And his name is James. James Bucky Barnes."

Braylon shrugged. "Even so, he's a fool to let you slip away."

"Are you here to gossip?"

"Delving into your personal life is one of my favorite pastimes," he quipped, offering a smug smile.

"Enough teasing. I care about James. I won't abandon him."

"But he abandoned you."

Her eyes darkened. "You wouldn't understand, and that's alright."

"Alright... I don't want to press you further. Sweet dreams, Grace." With some reluctance, he stood up. "See you tomorrow."

When she was left alone, Grace dragged the covers up to cocoon herself, curling her limbs. She felt cold and lonely. She missed the feel of his arms around her, his fingers brushing against her skin, his soothing whispers chasing away her fears. She yearned for the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the sense of security he brought with him. Without him by her side, the night felt empty, and the silence seemed to heighten her restless thoughts.

She lay there, a solitary figure in the darkness, caught in a silent battle against her own thoughts. And as the night stretched on, her longing for his warmth and scent only deepened, a constant reminder that sleep would not visit her without James there to hold her close.

[v1olentdelights]

TW: more gaslighting, stabbing, yelling, death :)

Summary: It’s a funny thing to know someone for so long, then realize you didn’t actually know them at all.

a/n: idk what this is... there will be an epilogue?? Thank you, @magic-is-beauty , for proofreading most of this series as well as giving me inspiration:) and thank you, @sheraayasher , for also giving inspiration!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

You thought you knew Sirius Black. He was the love of your life. In his fifth year at Hogwarts, you accidentally bumped into someone. It didn’t take you long to recover, but it took even less time for someone to come help you up. A handsome man with round glasses held out his hand. You took it without hesitation.

Later, you would find out that the boy, James Potter, had actually had his mind set on asking you out for a while. But you wanted someone else. James and you had met one evening out on the astronomy tower. He confessed his feelings, but you knew that he was only trying to get over Lily’s rejection. There was a long, heartfelt conversation that evening, which led to a new friendship.

You were introduced to the group James called family. You felt the burn of a crush grow when you realized Sirius Black was a part of this group. The handsome man you had seen in some of your classes and in the halls. You would never admit it aloud. But that didn’t stop Marlene or Alice from pushing you two together, quite literally.

It happened one late evening when the group was cleaning up from a party. You and Sirius were cleaning up the drink table when Sirius stumbled rather harshly into you, successfully dumping a glass of possibly spiked red punch all over your shirt. He became a blushing mess and grabbed some napkins to try and dry off your shirt. The rest was history. You spent more time together, you kept Sirius in line and helped him keep up with school work, and he helped you loosen up.

You stayed together during the war and comforted one another. When it was revealed that Regulus had sacrificed himself, you held Sirius for hours. Then, some short months later, when Regulus came back to the order and said he had to go into hiding after destroying a horcrux, you held Sirius again. He held you tightly throughout the funeral of your close friend and her family. Sirius supported you when you came home from a hard day of listening to the disaster and trauma the war had left people with.

But was it all for nothing? You had lived in a perfect place for the past couple months and hadn’t questioned it. There was something in you that begged you to realize this was all wrong, but you didn’t listen. You kept living as if there wasn’t a war, as if there weren’t people left in ruins. And Sirius knew. He knew it all, the hours you put in to help people move forward, the work you put in with others to rebuild schools and stores, all the food you made to bring to shelters. He knew how much you loved helping others, and how much they needed it and yet kept you here.

—

You awoke to the familiar sound of Sirius humming Unchained Melody in the kitchen. As if you didn’t know anything else, you got up and walked out to find him.

“Oh, Y/N, darling. How lovely to see you, I was just making some breakfast. Would you like to help me cut up some tomatoes?” His smile was sweet. Too sweet. Yet you still went over to the counter, pulled out a knife, and started cutting the tomatoes slowly. “Did you sleep well?”

“What happened, Sirius?” Flashes of a war, bright lights and buildings falling passed in your brain.

“I don’t know what you mean. Nothing happened. Are you almost done with those?” He hadn’t turned to face you yet. “I thought we could sit outside on the patio for breakfast, I heard it was supposed to be sunny.” Your cutting stopped. It was always sunny, it never rained, never snowed, it rarely got cloudy.

“Tell me what happened.” You turned with the knife still in your hand, pointed directly at him. He raised his hands as he turned around. “And don’t lie to me.”

“Darling, I truly have no idea what you are talking about. Nothing happened. Are you feeling alright?” Are you feeling alright? Of course not, things were flashing through your brain, your heart was beating fast, and you were feeling a million different emotions, and you didn’t know why.

You waved the knife around as an exasperated sigh left you.

“Stop that. Your stupid mind games, I know things aren’t right.” Taking a step forward, Sirius took a step back.

“Y/N, stop, please.” He sounded nervous, and his breathing was ragged.

“STOP!” And in an instant, the knife found its way into his gut. You let out a shock yelp, and Sirius stood there, slowly looking down at the knife. “Oh my- Sirius, I don’t- what have I done?” You went to pull the knife out. But Sirius reached up and wrapped his hands around your throat.

“I did this all for you. I spent every last penny I had to keep you safe. How could you do this? You kept pushing and pushing against it. The ministry assured me you wouldn’t know it wasn’t real. Yet you kept on looking and questioning.” His grip tightened, and you felt yourself getting lightheaded and the tears slipping down your face. “I love you. I care about you, just like James cares for Lily. That's why we did this.” You tried to pry his hands away, but they wouldn’t budge, so you reached down for the handle of the knife.

It all was coming back to you now. The night Sirius greeted you with a nice dinner and wine. The record, and the dancing, the pleading. And though you loved Sirius deeply, you couldn’t see past this. He took away your life. You twisted the knife in his stomach, causing him to let go of you and howl in pain. He quickly grabbed onto the edge of the table.

“You’re psychotic. I had a life… you took my life.” You let the tears trickle down your face. It didn’t matter how much you wanted this life. You already had one where people need you.

“I saved your life!” Sirius kept a hand over the wound trying to keep pressure on it even with the knife still hanging out of him.

“That's not true.” It came out soft but filled with anger.

“Listen to me. You were working all the time!”

“NO! I loved working.”

“You were miserable! You were so unhappy.” He took a sharp breath and winced at the pain. “YOU HATED YOUR LIFE!” Sirius yelled.

“It was MY LIFE!” Sobs were taking over, but you stayed strong. “MY LIFE! You don’t get to take that from me!”

“I GAVE THIS TO YOU! I GAVE YOU ALL OF THIS!” He tried to stumble closer. You caught him by the shoulders.

“Then I don’t want it. And I sure as hell don’t want you.” Quickly, you moved to jab the knife further into his stomach before yanking it out. Watching him fall to the ground, you saw the blood on your white nightgown.

“I did this for you because I love you.” His voice was weak and filled with sadness.

“I thought I loved you. But I don’t even know you, I never really did. Did I?”

@magic-is-beauty @sheraayasher

[starglowwos]

(plain text below the cut!)

(tl;dr: the watchers underestimate how much they need to eat emotions to truly give everyone an emotional blank slate for the next game. i like this.)

hm. so yknow how the watchers eat emotions between games but also sometimes they fuck it up and dont eat enough and thats why things like pearl and cleo were a bit too traumatized so the listeners swapped em out for a session (because pearl and cleo's trauma from double life was a New Level Of Fucked (cc!martyn's words lol) and the watchers didnt eat enough of their emotions)

i think or at least headcanon that there's been a ton more instances of that just, the listeners havent been able to do anything about it or it hasn't been significant enough a problem for the watchers to notice, or actually maybe the watchers just don't care, or maybe they enjoy it

like scar and grian. martyn and ren. scott and jimmy yeah sure they should remember their past partnerships but not feel anything about it yeah sure they should remember their past experiences but not how they made them feel

martyn should remember that he was the red king's hand

but he shouldn't feel the need to ally with him in every single game following apart from where he couldn't

he shouldn't have an averse reaction to killing his closest ally by their request, and feel the need to defend himself for doing so, "it's not betrayal if it's requested"

he shouldn't feel the need to tie the dogwarts banner around his waist in ren's honor

he shouldn't feel a shift in comfort when ren's not a part of a death game for the first time

scar should remember that grian swore his life to him after making a mistake resulting in scar's death, and even after the deal ended grian stuck around til the end and the only reason scar died to grian's hands was that scar let him

but he shouldn't gravitate towards grian as soon as he's left alone without allies, he shouldn't feel the need to be that generous towards grian in giving him and joel a life and setting them all on yellow, he shouldn't end up visiting the southlands as much as he does considering their history within that one game

he shouldn't feel overly comfortable relying on grian to keep their lives safe and fall back into nearly the exact same habits as he had in third life

he shouldnt immediately go to grian when he's paralyzed for a session because if grian pushes him away every time scar wants his company, he'll just have to get it when he can't push him away anymore

pearl should remember that scott, her teammate just last game, thought she betrayed him before they even met for the first time this game and left her alone up until the short time leading up to their bittersweet end where he killed himself for her, should remember that her one and only companion tilly was killed without mercy because pearl was regarded as a danger to everyone around her including herself and not worth trying to tame

but she shouldn't feel as betrayed as she does when scott leaves, she shouldn't feel anything about their history together just last game

she shouldn't go to martyn asking for tilly back and then stand speechless as he drops gunpowder on the ground saying he cremated her she shouldn't feel the need to go asking in the first place and certainly shouldn't be triggered by something she isn't supposed to care about anymore

she shouldn't have to be pulled out for a session to be given time to recover, she should've recovered already

scott should remember that he₁ and jimmy₂ were husbands, that jimmy₂ died when scott₁ wasn't even there, that he₁ had to bury him₂ himself₁ and live out the rest of his₁ life because his₂ was cut off so early on

but he shouldn't be saying "love you" to jimmy, shouldn't be getting upset when jimmy doesn't say it back, because jimmy got more time to recover than scott did after third life and so jimmy doesn't care anymore but scott still very much does

he shouldn't go seek out a single partner to stick by and stay honorable and loyal to for each and every game following, and as soon as they're compatible he shouldn't feel the need to make it as gay as possible to compensate for what he lost

they should remember all of that, yeah. but they shouldn't feel anything about all of that apart from logical conclusions they may draw after the fact. they should feel emotionally disconnected from everything that happened in the past games. …right? because that's what happens with everything else, why isn't it happening properly? maybe whatever does the feelings wipe isn't perfect. maybe whoever feeds on their emotions underestimates just how much they should, sometimes :>

[plain text:

hm. so you know how the watchers eat emotions between games but also sometimes they fuck it up and dont eat enough and that's why things like pearl and cleo were a bit too traumatized so the listeners swapped them out for a session (because pearl and cleo's trauma from double life was a New Level Of Fucked (cc!martyn's words lol) and the watchers didn't eat enough of their emotions)

i think or at least headcanon that there's been a ton more instances of that just, the listeners haven't been able to do anything about it or it hasn't been significant enough a problem for the watchers to notice, or actually maybe the watchers just don't care, or maybe they enjoy it

like scar and grian. martyn and ren. scott and jimmy yeah sure they should remember their past partnerships but not feel anything about it yeah sure they should remember their past experiences but not how they made them feel

martyn should remember that he was the red king's hand

but he shouldn't feel the need to ally with him in every single game following apart from where he couldn't

he shouldn't have an averse reaction to killing his closest ally by their request, and feel the need to defend himself for doing so, "it's not betrayal if it's requested"

he shouldn't feel the need to tie the dogwarts banner around his waist in ren's honor

he shouldn't feel a shift in comfort when ren's not a part of a death game for the first time

scar should remember that grian swore his life to him after making a mistake resulting in scar's death, and even after the deal ended grian stuck around until the end and the only reason scar died to grian's hands was that scar let him

but he shouldn't gravitate towards grian as soon as he's left alone without allies, he shouldn't feel the need to be that generous towards grian in giving him and joel a life and setting them all on yellow, he shouldn't end up visiting the southlands as much as he does considering their history within that one game

he shouldn't feel overly comfortable relying on grian to keep their lives safe and fall back into nearly the exact same habits as he had in third life

he shouldn't immediately go to grian when he's paralyzed for a session because if grian pushes him away every time scar wants his company, he'll just have to get it when he can't push him away anymore

pearl should remember that scott, her teammate just last game, thought she betrayed him before they even met for the first time this game and left her alone up until the short time leading up to their bittersweet end where he killed himself for her, should remember that her one and only companion tilly was killed without mercy because pearl was regarded as a danger to everyone around her including herself and not worth trying to tame

but she shouldn't feel as betrayed as she does when scott leaves, she shouldn't feel anything about their history together just last game

she shouldn't go to martyn asking for tilly back and then stand speechless as he drops gunpowder on the ground saying he cremated her she shouldn't feel the need to go asking in the first place and certainly shouldn't be triggered by something she isn't supposed to care about anymore

she shouldn't have to be pulled out for a session to be given time to recover, she should've recovered already

scott should remember that he and jimmy were husbands, that jimmy died when scott wasn't even there, that he had to bury him himself and live out the rest of his life because his was cut off so early on

but he shouldn't be saying "love you" to jimmy, shouldn't be getting upset when jimmy doesn't say it back, because jimmy got more time to recover than scott did after third life and so jimmy doesn't care anymore but scott still very much does

he shouldn't go seek out a single partner to stick by and stay honorable and loyal to for each and every game following, and as soon as they're compatible he shouldn't feel the need to make it as gay as possible to compensate for what he lost

they should remember all of that, yeah. but they shouldn't feel anything about all of that apart from logical conclusions they may draw after the fact. they should feel emotionally disconnected from everything that happened in the past games. …right? because that's what happens with everything else, why isn't it happening properly? maybe whatever does the feelings wipe isn't perfect. maybe whoever feeds on their emotions underestimates just how much they should, sometimes :>

/ end plain text]

[bitimdrake]

Do you think there could be a compelling and well-written way for Jason to ever start healing from his trauma? I get the tragedy and all is why so many people like his character and all but it’s been over 18 years since he came back and I’ve grown apathetic to the whole “I died boohoohoo” thing. Idk the way DC is written makes it hard to me to feel the same way I did when he first came back as Red Hood because death is so meaningless in that universe, now more than ever. I feel the same way about Bruce and his whole mess of trauma and want to see them do something new, yknow? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

.

Absolutely!!

I think I end up hammering on the tragedy and angst aspect a lot because it's the part I feel gets most lost--certainly in fluffy batfam fics, but also in DC canon just abruptly declaring him totally part of the family now don't worry about it after Flashpoint. I think the legitimate trauma Jason has, the significant differences in principle with the other bats, and the harm he's done them in turn, have gotten worn down and minimized, and it's a bummer!

But I would like to see him heal from his trauma and like. have a real arc.

That's my biggest problem with Jason in canon thus far*. It's not that he is a hero now and aligned with his family. It's that we never got to see how that really happened. He was a villain one second, and then the universe got rebooted, and suddenly we were supposed to just infer this off-screen development.

(*Thus far being up to where I have read, which is through the New 52. Cannot comment beyond that yet.)

In my dream where I get to rewrite the history of DC, we would have spent like five years watching Jason gradually progress from the remorseless antivillain he became by the end of preboot into someone healthier, with more actual morals, a principled antihero. And working out his various relationships with his family along the way.

Unfortunately, because DC skipped to the end of that theoretical arc without ever actually doing the arc, we're sorta...stuck.

The status quo is where it is. DC can't pretend Jason has been an antagonist this whole time and give him the arc now. Red Hood has been a significant part of the batfamily for years. They can't just insert the 'Jason heals' arc because theoretically he's already done that. But also, so long as we never actually see that arc, it's never truly going to feel resolved.

This is the crux of the Jason Todd problem.

Anyway, I feel you on the death thing as well. When Jason died (I'd argue even when he came back), death was a lot more meaningful and significant. His death really meant something, and his return was a huge shake up.

But since then...everyone's died. And now there's this awkward disconnect between (a) in story, all these people having gone through the traumatic event of dying and returning which should probably be significant for them all, and (b) out of universe, Jason's death being considerably more significant than anyone else's and a core part of the character.

Jason's death can't really be a meaningless joke (though he absolutely can recover from the trauma), because we all know it wasn't; it was a huge deal. But we also can't have all the characters act like his death was significant while a bunch of other death's aren't, because then they just seem insane and myopic. But we can't have everyone act like every death is significant, because then we wouldn't be able to do anything else except reflect on the massive amount of death and trauma around here, plus it would be so hollow to most readers who know a lot of these comic books deaths were just cheap shock value that got immediately reversed. And around and around and around--

It's a fucking mess. I have plenty ideas of how I could fix it in a rewrite (whether fanfic or magic time travel where I Fix DC Comics). But I don't have a lot of ideas of how to fix it now, over a decade after the problem started.

Although, to return to your very first question: even if we can't fix everything, yes, I do think a good writer could give a compelling story of Jason healing from his tragedy, without a doubt. I do think that angle can still be explored and developed, because it has not be closed off.

...the biggest problem there would just be that comics are cyclical, and you know some other writer would come in two years later and revert him back to brooding about his death all the time, because that's the version of the character they're used to.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Can you give hcs about Lika (Vi's and Jinx's mom) from FnF

I have a whole bunch<3

tw: poverty, war, trauma, underage sex, sex work, abortion

She's originally from Drekkengate, where she was part of the luftmenschen - irl this is Yiddish for 'people of air' i.e. wanderers with no fixed occupation. She and her family were at the bottom of her village social scale.

She fled to the Undercity with her parents during the Void Wars, before washing up penniless on Zaun's harbors.

She lost her family to sickness and starvation in the brutal chill of wintertime, and became one of the thousands of sumpsnipes wandering the streets and living off of stolen scraps.

At eleven, she enlisted to serve in the mines for a chance at steady income. She also nearly died during the explosion that collapsed the tunnels. Thereafter she decided that she needed to find a safer and smarter occupation.

She's always had a gift for tools and tinkering, paired with nimble fingers and a head for schematics. By sixteen, she'd found work as an apprenta in a old tinkerer's workshop, and began seriously honing her craft. After the tinkerer passed, he'd give the shop to Benzo, who'd keep her on as his associate.

Sadly, the pay was meager. To make coins on the side, Lika sometimes put a red rag around her arm and prowled the factories for a knee-trembler in the alleys - though she didn't particularly see herself as a sex-worker. Her attitude toward the profession was more expedient than anything.

To her way of thinking, "What did Janna bless me with a pretty face for, if not to occasionally save me from donkey work?"

She's a free spirit - and a ruthless survivalist. In her brief life, she's dealt with a number of upsetting or downright traumatizing experiences, including starvation, sickness, heartbreak, homelessness, unplanned pregnancy, abortion, deceitful bosses and cruel men. It's made her wary of strangers as a rule - and reliant on her self.

It's also made her develop a minxy persona to keep men at arm's length while also leaving them panting for her attentions. She tends to gravitate to the big burly protector types who will provide for her, and keep her safe.

Her motives aren't purely mercenary. Once in a committed relationship, she will give it her all. But at the least sign of fractured trust or infidelity, she's out of your life for good.

She's always had her eye on Vander. "Handsome, strong, and so good good with his hands. That temper though..."

On his part, Vander was absolutely dazzled by her. He was used to simpering floozies and easygoing barflies; Lika had a talent for always leaving him guessing. When our Hound fell for her - he fell hard, and never fully recovered.

Her wiles work like a charm on most men. But they are a failure with Silco. The little bastard is Immune to her venom, in his own words. He just gets snarky with her. Annoying kid brother/manipulative older sister vibes.

She's an incorrigible flirt, and a natural people person. Gravitates instantly to saloons and bars, and can kick up a storm on the dance floor.

For all her flightiness, she proved a very tender and attentive mother. Wanted her daughters to have the best of everything, which is why she supported Vander's and Silco's cause for Zaun. Vi remembers her mommy as always encouraging her to chase her dreams. "Shoot for the stars - 'cause you belong there too."

She'd always hoped to have two girls and two boys - and to name them after her favorite color palette. Violet, Powder Blue, Teal, Beryl.

The Day of Ash cut that aspiration short.

Her death broke Vander's heart in a very silent, very stoic way that he never discusses.

Vi has inherited her quick tongue and fast reflexes. Powder got the dainty looks and tinkering skills. In fact, the older she got, the more she resembled Lika. It made Vander very awkward around her - but also made him secretly baby her far more than he did the other three.

In cherishing Lika's girls, he sees himself as preserving her legacy, and paying her sacrifices forward<3

[inkedobsidian]

~ Grey - M.R ~

summary: sequal to Red. Y/N is now in the hospital attemting to recover

pairing: Mitch Rapp x Reader

warnings: After care in hospital, coma

word count: 1,083

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

Mitch's life went from every shade of red to a pale shade of grey in moments. It's been almost three months since he broke down on the floor as Y/N got driven away in an ambulance on the verge of her death. As time went past Mitch watched Y/N's body shrink and deteriorate. As the color drained from her face she turned from a lovely pink shade of happiness to a beaten face covered in red, black, and blue. Now he has to sit by while her face turns to a sickly grey. Although Mitch gets sick thinking about the state of Y/N what he doesn't realize is he doesn't look too different from her. As his mental state deteriorates so does his physical health and he hasn't even realized it. Stan and Irene don't even mention how he looks because they know that the only thing he cares about is if Y/N will ever wake up.

Mitch's hair has started to snap when he runs his hands through his hair because of the little care he has for himself. His cheekbones are more defined but in a ghoulish way, just like Y/N. After three months all of her bruises have healed but the mental ones will stay forever and Mitch already knows this. His back begins to ache constantly as hospital chairs aren't the comfiest and he refuses to go anywhere in case Y/N was up and he's not here. Although the nurses have told him numerous times to go sleep in a normal bed so he's in better health for her he also refuses. The bags under his eyes grow bigger every day and he only takes small naps because nobody knows when she'll wake up.

As time went on and the world got more grey for Mitch. As Irene kept emailing him about new missions, Mitch kept ignoring them all knowing that he couldn't leave Y/N because the last time he did, even though it was only for a few moments, she was taken. As he tried to think through in his mind why this happened to her of all people, she wasn't an agent; she was just a civilian Mitch fell for. As he tried to answer all these questions he felt like he was trying to solve a crossword that had no right answer. As he sleeps memories of them come in flashbacks and as he stares at her sick and ghoulish body it's like he can hear echoes of her in his mind.

As Y/N sits stuck in her own mind screaming for Mitch to save her again she is just stuck in her imagination. Just like Mitch her whole world is grey inside her mind. She sits inside her mind in a house covered in darker splats of grey, the world in her mind is deteriorating and she knows that her body is probably doing the same on the outside. She wonders around her mind trying to escape the grey in her mind.

All these changes when flashes of color begin to appear and she begins to hear whistling in the trees. Colour only appears in flashes but the whistling is more constant before it begins to form words, echo's almost. The echo that she's hearing begins to turn into formable words and the voice is then recognized… Mitch is speaking to her.

"Y/N… I know people say you can hear when you're in a coma so I decided to finally speak. It's been about… 6 months I guess. I can't really tell. I haven't left your side because this feels like my fault. You never asked for this and I should've protected you more. You fell in love with the wrong person. I understand if you don't want to see me again after what happened because you went through enough trauma for a lifetime. Anyway, I just wanted to say I love you. I said it when they took you away but I don't know if you ever heard me with the pain you were in. I needed to say it out loud finally in a place you could hear me. I love you Y/N… I'm sorry."

Mitch holds her hand and begins to tear up as he realizes the damage just knowing him has caused her. His tears fall down his face and his throat feels like it's swelled up to the point of closing so he can't breathe. Within two seconds he can't breathe for a different reason.

"You need to stop blaming yourself…" A voice croaks almost as if it hurts just to speak, which in fact does. Mitch's head snaps up and he sees Y/N with her eyes ever so slightly open.

"How can I not blame myself when you're in here because of me." He shuffles the chair as close to the bed as he can even get to make sure she feels safe. "Well, I'm probably here because I refused to tell them shit, even though it hurt like a bitch." She says chuckling at the end, which made her start to cough. Mitch quickly hands her a cup of water that he refills every few hours. As it made its way down her throat she lent back with the relaxation of being alive but feeling all the pain that comes with it. As she winces Mitch goes to leave. "No don’t leave. Just a few more minutes alone.. please." Y/N whines trying to have a little more peace with Mitch.

"Aren't you in pain?" Mitch asks worried for her.

"Please I've been in more pain, I never realized how much pain the body can take before it passes out. I thought it was a lot less." She chuckles trying to lighten the mood.

"So you told them nothing?" Mitch asks not worried about himself more-so proud of her.

"Well, besides they can fuck off and bite me, not a single thing." She chuckles when saying bite me. Mitch just smirks at her.

"That's my girl." He smiles kissing her forehead gently.

"I heard you, when I was put into the ambulance, it was the last thing I heard before it went dark." She smiles at him. They both stay in silence and they just stay in each other's presence happy to be there together. Finally, Y/N opens her mouth to say something that's been on her time the entire time.

"I hope I look better than you because Jesus Christ Mitch you need a several-hour shower and a shave."

[damianbugs]

I’ve been reading a lot of your works and I really enjoy them because I think the characterization I really well done! I do have a question, though. What’s your opinion on a lot of the canon characterizations and tropes that seem ever present on ao3? I really don’t like certain ones like pit madness because I think they’re a little problematic but I’m curious on your opinion because you tend not to include them in your writing

hello !! thank you so much for reading my works <3 i am usually very picky with characterisations, both in fics and in comics, and so i try my best to stick to one and avoid certain things entirely in my writing as well!

as for your question (i'll focus primarily on the discussion of pit madness since it is a wonderful example); i have to agree with your point! i dislike the trope of pit madness, especially when it is focused around jason todd in particular.

in a storytelling perceptive, i think the idea of the lazarus pit on ao3 lacks the complexity it has in the comics (which are also not completely free of criticism), which leads to a lot of messy characterisations and a rather problematic outlook to mental health — and especially, recovery from trauma.

aside from the obvious complaint that in canon, jason is not the only one to have experienced the lazarus pit in the batfam itself (cass, bruce etc) — i think pit madness has become a fanon idea that a lot people use to excuse or undermine his actions and intentions. depending on which storyline of jason's you wish to write or read, his experience prior and post the lazarus pit can vary.

almost always however, there is a brief moment of uncontrollable rage and insanity that almost everyone who uses the lazarus pit will experience. in jason's case, we can say it affects him harder or for longer due to him actually being dead at one point, while someone like ra's al ghul, who uses it frequently, experiences it for shorter and more controllable bursts.

[Batman #243, 1972] the first appearance of 'pit madness'

i assume this idea of the fanon pit madness originates from this brief moment, however it is important to note that after that, pit madness is not actually a thing anyone experiences. jason todd specifically, recovers fairly quickly from this and begins his re-training and plotting to return to gotham (and thus the proceedings of under the red hood).

in fanon (and canon, though it is not a thing brought up as frequently anymore), jason todd's 'pit madness' is something incredibly delicate and i think needs to be approached very carefully. often times you find stories in which he must be 'cured' of his pit madness (that, again, isn't a thing) and the list of things this pit madness has caused end up just being a list of things he has done as a result of a trauma response or revenge against people who have hurt him. all things that might not have been excusable or the right thing to have done, are understandable given the context.

i have never been a fan of that ideology. that the carefully curated plans, backup plans and missions jason todd orchestrates is somehow caused by this evil magical phenomenon as opposed to his true self. jason is a very intelligent boy, and before his death, was trained by bruce — even before they figure out his true identity, batman and nightwing are amazed and threatened by red hood's obvious training and skills.

[Batman Annual #25, 2006]

and so, to me, the pit itself isn't the thing that drives you 'mad'. it is rather, the reconstruction of your body and your mind when you wake up again that is beyond mortal understanding, that drives you 'mad'.

jason todd was tortured and murdered prior to his death, and when revived, was immediately under the impression that his father moved on quickly and didn't see his death as a reason to change his approach to fighting crime. that would drive anyone to do things they maybe wouldn't normally do, but hey, that's the thing with trauma.

jason todd is not under the influence of magical madness. he is a teenager who has experienced incomprehensible trauma and is doing what he must do now to survive a world where he can't be the way he used to. the adults around him failed him and continue to fail him and so he takes matters into his own hands and thus, the red hood is born.

when it's not written in a victim blaming or excusable way (such as an 'explanation' for The Titan Tower Incident with tim) i assume it can be done well, but as a whole it is not something i am a fan of. for jason in particular, i find the inclusion of this 'pit madness' also tends to remove his characters personality and motivations, brushing off situations that are integral to his development and journey as an anti-hero. it brushes off the terrible things he has done, infantalising or just completely disregarding them, or completely villainises his moments of weakness and vulnerability.

i hope this answers your question? i might have got a little carried away,, i have a lot of opinions about canon vs fanon and characterisations in general, so this was really fun for me answer! feel free to ask for clarification on anything written here or anything else you'd like! thank you again :] <3

[storiumemporium]

At The Mercy of Pain

Kas!Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 — Where Hell Met Home

Series Summary — A return from death, a victory turned sour. The man you loved turned against you, destroying you in ways unmatched and indescribable. Now? Now he is free, but there are too many broken pieces.

Do Not have late night conversations with friends that love angst as much as you do. You will create horrible little monsters with them.

This is going to be an out-of-order series recounting the tales of Eddie and the Reader recovering from trauma, falling back in love, and learning to hope and be happy again.

I dedicate this fic to my bb @basichextechml who is not only incredibly based and chadpilled but also shamelessly feeds into my angst addiction and helped beta this for me 😭

P.S. There was a request for Eddie to be wearing a frog headband but unfortunately the costume department didn't have enough budget for it.

Series Tags — DARK!FIC, dd;dne, graphic depictions of violence, gore, trauma, abuse, PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety and depression, suicidal ideation, depictions of disability, fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, whump, recovery fic, hospitals, forced cannibalism

Chapter Word Count — 3.1k

Chapter Tags — Graphic depictions of violence, gore, whump, there's literally no build up it's just going apeshit from the start, i'd say im sorry but i'm not

Tink. Tink tink.

It’s the first thing that greets Eddie’s ringing ears. It’s the sound of the bathroom lights.

What..?

Everything is… distant. Hazy. His senses come back to him piece by piece, feeling like he’s had something slipped into his drink- he has to remind himself to breathe. In, hold, out, hold, in, hold, out. The smell of something metallic is getting stronger, and he peels his eyes like grit away from the mildewy ceiling to investigate.

Red- so much red.

He shoots up and his head screams in protest, but he ignores it in favor of the way his heart is thundering so hard it makes him dizzy. Why is there blood? What happened? Why can’t he remember—?

The kitchen.

Singing, laughing, “Eddie, stop it! You’re gonna eat ‘em all before I can even finish!”

You’re smiling, corners of your eyes crinkling, he’s smiling back, his heart is so light-

The memory stops, abrupt, black. What happened?

He manages to stumble onto his feet and groans, his arm has gone numb since he last was awake, probably from the way he’d slept on it. The door swings open with a whine, and he’s introduced to absolute chaos.

He can see broken furniture and glass across the ground before he even steps out from the bathroom, the delicate crunch like gunfire in the ghostly silent trailer. But it’s not completely silent, he can make out desperate, shaking breaths. These ragged intakes like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the atmosphere.

He turns around the corner, and he’s nearly startled off his feet by a wail.

Yours.

It scares him so fucking bad he practically runs into the wall behind him, adrenaline dialed to 11 and feeling like- for a split second- Chrissy was happening all over again.

His eyes rove wildly until they land on you, you’re in the kitchen, down on the floor and backed into the corner and the moment your frightened eyes set upon him you’re trying to force yourself as tightly as possible into the cabinets, like you could push yourself straight through the wood and walls and end up outside. As far from him as possible.

Clenched brutally tightly within your hand is a knife, a large chef’s knife you’d been using to cut up- he can’t remember, and frankly, it doesn’t fucking matter right now. The thing is bloody, you’re bloody. And you’re sobbing and look fucking terrified of him, eyes all big and pupils tiny, you’re holding it out at him, grip so tight the knuckles have turned icy, shaking so hard it’s practically useless.

His hands have come up placatingly, mouth dropped open and heart thumping aggressively, his own breathing becomes deeper, harder.

“Baby… Baby-girl… What happened, sweetheart- what’s wrong-” He’s looking around the place, looking for the threat, looking for what did this to you- and you respond with a moan so guttural, so harrowing that it feels like a kick to Eddie’s teeth. It rips the breath out of him with icy hooks.

“Please stop please stop- please please…” You’re whispering to yourself, he can hear your skin against the acrylic handle as you squeeze it even tighter. “Just- Just- stay over there- stay-!”

Your voice is shaking as it rises, you’re so scared and Eddie can feel tears flood his eyes. What happened? I don’t understand.

“Baby-” One step forward.

You shriek and he flattens against the wall, eyes blown out wide like saucers, his fingers splay out wider, pleading. “Stay! Stay over there! Don’t- don’t fucking come any closer!”

“Okay, okay! O-okay! I’ll stay here..! I’m not gonna hurt you..!” His own voice has risen a few octaves, everything is ringing and the world is beginning to swim- he might be having a panic attack.

“Just- please baby- what the fuck is happening? You’re- you’re- you’re kinda scaring the fucking piss out of me right now.” The end of that sentence is hissed, and his fingers clench into tight fists. He wants to get on his knees and beg.

You’re not just afraid of him, you’re positively sobbing, face contorted with agony. The first hot tears start burning down his face and he finds himself asking a question that makes him want to vomit.

What did I do?

“You- you- stop lying! Stop- stop talking with his voice- stop it stop it-!” You clamp your free hand over your ear, trying to block out as much of Eddie as possible, but you won’t blink and you won’t look away.

He goes mute, because everything about him is causing you such distress, but the tears are starting to come down harder because he’s- he’s scared and he’s frustrated and he’s hurting for you. He wants to fix this, make it stop, but how can he do that when he doesn’t even know what this is?

So… he decides to try and puzzle it out.

“Okay… okay… we- we were cooking? We were in the kitchen..? Right? Right. I- I was eating- something- you were getting onto me about it because I was gonna spoil dinner like always…” His head shakes, eyes darting around like he was reading an invisible ledger, something phantom thing that’s recorded his every move for him.

You let out a shaky exhale, watching the way he clamors for an answer, and in the fog of terror and pain- your neck your neck your neck- your grip on the blade lessens. “…Eddie..?”

He lets out a hard exhale through his nose, wet and unpleasant but he pays it no mind. “Baby.” He pleads.

The blade drops from your hand.

There’s a moment of numb silence, just staring, and then you fully break into hysterics, balling up to sob so hard your shoulders flex and bow with your animalistic breaths.

He takes one step, then another. You’re not reacting, so he slips into the kitchen and kneels in front of you, gently grabbing you to pull you into his arms. You’re limp, you don’t fight, and he cradles you and rocks you while you wail into his shirt.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… What can I do? How can I help?”

You shake your head weakly as you try to choke down your emotions, pulling away to look at him- and that’s when he sees it. Your neck.

It’s a handprint, and it’s clearly his, and it’s dark. His grip so strong it left a near perfect mark right around your delicate throat.

“Oh… oh my God… Sweetheart- did I-?”

You tear up again, nodding, and you’re starting to speak but…

But…

The world turns to an oil slick, that rainbow film that covers everything, the world is melting- drifting- you’re looking at him, and the fear is coming back to you. You slip out from his hands and he reaches for you- but it’s not comforting, nor is it pleading- he can feel malice in his body as he tries to grab you, watching you slip away.

There’s an errant thought that isn’t his; her bones will sound so musical when they break.

Why- why would he want- what—

For Eddie, this is the merciful end of the memory.

For you? The nightmare is just beginning.

You’re trying to break for the bedroom when he stands with mechanical fluidity, turning at the waist to follow you with a blank face and hollow eyes, his stride is unnatural, predatory, somehow he manages to make an absolute void seem eager, anticipatory.

You’re almost to the door when something explodes next to your head- belatedly, you recognize it as a wooden chair reduced to splinters- and it sends you to the floor hard enough to knock your nose against the ground, it hurts, but Eddie’s hand grabs your ankle with the force of a hydraulic press and all notion of pain goes out the window in favor of survival instinct.

Your hands grip wildly for anything- anything you could use, anything that might- might level the playing field, because there was no getting an edge against him. You could hear his grip splinter the wood of the bathroom doorframe to your left. Your hand finds purchase on something; a framed picture of you, Wayne, and Eddie. With a desperate exhale you smash it into his head. The glass cuts up his face, and you suspect it’s more that he’s surprised than actually affected when he drops your throbbing leg.

You scramble like a frightened animal the rest of the way down the hall into your shared bedroom, slamming the door and throwing everything you’re strong enough to shove in front of it. Chairs and nightstands (your fingernails leave crescents in the cheap laminate) and even the mattress. It’s deafeningly silent when you turn your back to the door, picking up the receiver and frantically slamming the keys to the only number that comes to your mind.

“Pick up pick up pick up please please—!” It only rings twice, and then Steve’s tired voice crackles through on the other end.

“Hey..?” He doesn’t get further than that.

“Please please please,” You sob, voice catching on the last word, sounding on the verge of retching from sheer distress. “Steve please-” you’re hysterical, words coming out screechy and desperate, spit and snot spewing down your face with abandon.

There’s an earth-shattering sound in the background, and the line stays up long enough for Steve to hear you scream Eddie’s name.

Everything is ringing, a siren in the distant fog of his mind, and Eddie’s skull feels like it’s been clamped into a vice as he wades through his consciousness and toward that beckoning sound. The noises bloom like a flower, slowly punching through the pervasive whine that cradles him, it turns from a nonsensical rumbling to something he vaguely recognizes as speech. The throbbing he felt through his body clarifies itself to be the thunderous drum of footsteps. Voices… his mind catches on that. So many voices… why?

“What do we do!? Steve-!?” Robin?

“Fuck- we’ve- we’ve gotta get her to the hospital!” Steve.

“What about him!?”

“He’ll be fine! Leave him here- she’s going to die.” Nancy..?

His eyes feel like they’ve been anchored to his cheekbones when they open, the world slowly coming to clarity and light.

He wishes it wouldn’t.

The first thing that touches his vision is the sight of the entire trailer wrecked, there are holes and scratches in the walls, and dust and detritus comes off the ceiling, leaving dusty white smatterings across the… wet floor? It’s smeary and crimson and his heart lurches into his throat, rattling desperately with the search to remember. The hats and mugs that usually line the shelves and nails now decorate the ground like snow, some reduced to threads and shards. Beyond the frantic talking he can hear some disgusting bubbling noise, rhythmic and mucousy in a way that makes him queasy.

Everything is undercut by this feathering, stinging pain all across his back and arms- and particularly across his face. It feels as if he’s somehow acquired thousands of papercuts, and when he looks down at himself, his hands, it almost seems like that’s exactly what’s happened. But no, he recognizes marks like those- they’re from fingernails. His own nails fare no better, something trapped sticky and unpleasant in clumps beneath each of the chewed points.

(Later, in the bathroom, he’d come to recognize it as your skin.)

Brown eyes rove wildly, and then slam into a wall. You.

You’re on the couch, you’re in Robin’s arms- but not in the sweet friendly way of the past- head in her lap, laughing and smiling up at her as she rants about Steve’s latest antics and ‘how can boys be so- stupid?’ and you look at him, soft and loving as you say ‘I don’t know.’

No, she’s cradling you with tears down her face, redness so deep and blotchy she looks sunburnt by grief and horror.

Oh my God.

Robin is rocking you, whispering gentle assurances that she’s not sure you can actually hear, your head turned awkwardly to the side where your eyes burn straight through his soul.

One of your eyes (crinkled at the corners, so pretty in the early morning light. “G’mornin’ sleepyhead.”) is no longer entirely within it’s socket, the delicate vessels burst and flooding crimson to the point he can no longer discern where your pupil and iris begin or end. It’s sticking out grotesquely far from your face, which has swollen massively and taken on any number of frightening colors; black, green, blue and purple.

Your skull- it’s- it’s- it’s wrong. Dented and misshapen in a trail that connects your very broken eye socket (he can see the knots where parts of your bone are scraping against the inside of the wounded skin) to the now slightly concave side of your head, blood spewing from the bludgeoned wounds, a viscous river down your face, framing your eye and dripping off your smashed nose. Your gaze is glassy and wet, tears spilt loosely from a vacant expression.

There’s a massive gash in your face, it runs from the outer edge of your destroyed eye all the way down to the corner of your mouth in some vicious, deep crescent shape. The cut is so deep and wide that he can make out the muscle underneath, and it’s completely bisected your upper lip, your reddened and chipped teeth showing through where the skin and flesh doesn’t meet anymore.

Your neck is just black. Vaguely, Eddie remembers something about a handprint.

Your limbs are ruined. A horrible mimicry- no- an escalation of Chrissy. Your arms and legs are broken in multiple places, the skin of your forearms is bubbling and covered in pus and discolored, and Eddie can vaguely remember that you were boiling something earlier. Your right hand and all five fingers have been completely crushed, not one of them pointing in the same direction and your feet are angled unnaturally, the legs having been wrenched from their sockets and twisted around in all manner of ways before the bones finally shattered like rotten wood. He can see it, the break in one of your calves has completely stabbed through, horribly white and jagged and weeping blood, skin and chunks of flesh are caught on the splinters. From beneath your thin flowy shirt, he can see something else protruding awkwardly- it doesn’t take a genius to piece together that it’s your broken rib piercing straight out of you.

And as Robin gently sets you on the ground, drool, blood and teeth spew out from your crooked mouth.

Suddenly, Eddie understands that awful noise that punctuates the air.

It’s you. Trying to breathe.

Wheeze, gurgle. Wheeze, gurgle. Wheeze, gurgle.

You sound like you’re choking, drowning in your own fluids. Your eyes are still wide open as your head rests against the wood, staring emptily. That awful noise maintains, unrelenting.

Eddie twists in his chair and vomits all across the floor.

It’s pure stomach acid, but enclosed within the burning liquid are long, stringy tendrils. They’re writhing around, thrashing like dying flatworms, before stilling and beginning to dissolve away.

Eddie knows he should be concerned, should focus on that, but his eyes are back on you again, tears spilling wildly down his face.

Nancy and Steve have come to surround you with Robin, and he watches with heavy, tingling eyes as they begin to peel back your clothes. They’re already bloodied, but now he can see they’re in tatters, torn like an animal had gotten to you. As the garments are discarded, more of you is revealed to him, and Eddie is unable to process how he feels any longer.

Massive lacerations up your body, scratches so deep they’re bleeding- purple black blue purple black- Eddie can’t find a single patch of skin that isn’t bruised, that remains your same healthy natural color. He can see- chunks missing from your body. Not just the breaks, no, but actual entire parts of your fat and flesh have been torn free. Some bitten off.

There are boot prints across your belly and stomach, against your ribs. Nearly perfect welts. You could identify the exact pair of shoes he was wearing using them.

Almost worse than the damage is the way you move, or rather, aren’t moving. The way you’re laid out can’t be comfortable, your back and neck are contorted in ways he’s never seen a human rest before, and your mouth- your jaw-

You look like a fish out of water, gaping over and over and over again, twitching but the appendage isn’t moving right, because your jaw is broken just like the rest of you, crooked and he can see your gums where the rest of your teeth used to be, the bloody holes reflecting like ruby in the dim trailer light.

Your breaths are hiccupping, tiny, and Eddie can’t- he can’t-

“She’s- she’s choking- you’ve gotta- you-”

“I think you’ve done enough, Eddie.” Comes Nancy’s voice, scathing and glacial cold as she slams open the front door of Eddie’s ruined trailer, shouting at unseen figures to look away. Of course the kids would have come, too.

And then Steve is lifting you and you sob and it’s the first time you’ve actually reacted to something. Though it means you’re aware, that you aren’t braindead. Eddie finds no relief in this. It meant you were feeling everything.

Eddie’s chin drops to his chest as he cries, shaking so hard the chains tied around him rattle, wracked by hysterical grief and shame and horror and confusion. Why is he bound to the chair? What happened? Why can’t he remember anything? Why are they looking at him like that? Are you going to be okay?

Robin spares him a glance, equal parts guilt and fear in her bloodshot eyes, and then they’re all taking off out the door.

Eddie can hear the car peel away.

He’s stuck. Trapped. Confused. Angry. Scared. Alone.

What happened?

What did he do?

Oh God... What did he do?