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happybird16 · 2 years

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A short little soft and sweet drabble on something that happened to me a couple years ago! I couldn’t come up with a name for it.

Levi/ Gn reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Alcohol mention, that’s it.

Note: I wrote most of this on my lunch break today lol.

On your first date, Levi didn’t drink.

It’s not something you’d really noticed at the time. Head buzzing, tongue thick with the taste of delicious red wine, you’d been far too enraptured by the man sitting across from you.

The tight, button up shirt had taken no prisoners. His sleeves rolled up to reveal firm lines of muscle and blue spider webs of veins. Conversation flowing easily, his eyes, dark and enchanting, had seemed to pull you in. You could think of nothing else.

Months later, countless restaurants visited in the passing weeks, you finally take notice.

For your as-often-as-possible dinner -and sometimes even lunch or breakfast- dates, you’ve settled into a routine of picking a place at random. As long as the reviews seem decent and the cleanliness seems up to code -Levi’s insistence, he hates food trucks with a passion- you try whatever place you can find from a random Google search.

It’s a small little pub today, out of the way and barely populated. It’s cute, decorated with hanging bare light bulbs and little wooden knick knacks. In fact, everything is made from dark wood, from the walls to the table and chairs. You like the nice, homey old fashioned feel of it, especially compared to the bland spartan setting most expensive restaurants have.

Sitting across from you, Levi immediately hands over the tiny ‘today’s drink specials’ menu that the waitress had left on the table. Staring down at it, the realization suddenly strikes you: Levi never drinks. Sticking to tea or water, he never so much as glances at the alcoholic section of any menu in all of the places you’ve visited.

You suddenly feel unsettled, staring down at the stiff off-white page in your hands. The laminated paper suddenly seems impossibly heavy.

Your mind whirls with possibilities.

Maybe he’s just a lightweight. It wouldn’t be too unexpected given his smaller stature, the booze quickly filling his veins and making him loose-lipped and lackadaisical. He could also be an embarrassing drunk, a prospect that excites you.

Or it could be for religious reasons, though he’s never spoken about such things. Or maybe it’s even family related, the result of a bad experience with an addicted family member. The thought makes you feel bad for casually drinking in his presence.

It’s not too big of a deal, if you need to stop for him. It’s not like you drink too often anyways. Normally just a glass of wine here and there to unwind, perhaps even an occasional cocktail to keep the excitement flowing through your veins during a girl’s night.

Though, it could even be as simple as Levi not liking the taste. You certainly remember disliking the acrid burn of booze when you’d first started drinking, the overwhelming taste making you cough and wheeze. A finicky man, it’s certainly a likely possibility.

Still, it feels odd to be drinking alone. Now that you’ve noticed, it weighs on you like an itch you just can’t scratch. The waitress will be back soon, but now choosing a drink from the page seems impossible.

Gaze straying to the man across the table, you can’t help the breath that catches in your throat. Now matter how many times you see him, the sight of your boyfriend always leaves you stunned.

Winter having recently arrived in a snowy flurry, Levi is dressed in a thick wool sweater. The fabric is tight, carefully fitted to curve around his smaller frame. You should feel at a loss, with less of his perfect alabaster skin bared for your gaze, but instead you drink in the sight eagerly. He looks so warm and cozy, comfortable in the plush fabric.

“Levi,” you start, voice cautious and steady. Headless to your own intention, you fiddle nervously with the menu in your grip.

“Hmm?” Levi grunts, glaring down at his own menu. Always a picky eater, it consistently takes him absolutely forever to decide on an entree, even if he always looks up the place beforehand.

“Do…,” you hesitate, unsure of how to word the question. “Is there a reason you don’t drink?”

Levi’s sterling eyes stray up to meet yours, wide in shock. “Ah,” he says, ears burning with a tinge of red. “You -er- noticed that.”

“Is it a family reason? Should I not be drinking in front of you?” You vaguely remember him mentioning a ‘shit-bag’ -his words- uncle, but you aren’t sure if alcohol was ever an issue with him.

“No no,” Levi assures with a wave of his hand. “Nothing like that.”

Levi’s words have done little to calm the lingering worry in your heart. “Why then? Is it me? Are you not comfortable…”

“No!” The word comes quickly, a bit too loud for the quiet ambiance of the establishment. Quiter, Levi continues, “I’m more comfortable around you than I’ve ever been with anyone.”

The raging anxiety eating at your insides finally calms, like a roaring thunderstorm fading into the distance. “Why then?”

The blush coloring the tips of Levi’s ears spreads, pink dusting across his cheeks. “It’s…embarrassing.” The words are surprisingly hushed, his silver eyes quickly darting away before meeting yours again.

“More embarrassing than that time you kissed Erwin?” It’s Levi’s most humiliating moment -according to him- one you dragged out of him late one night when he was particularly drowsy.

Levi cringes, face twisting up at the memory. “I shouldn’t have told you about that.”

“I’ll never let it go,” you chime in a sing-songy voice.

Levi grunts in response, pale skin darkening further. You have no doubt it’s spread to paint his neck and chest with splotches of pink. “You're going to laugh.”

“Really? Now I’m intrigued!” You can’t help but lean forward, enjoying the light pink dusting his face.

“It’ll be easier to show you,” Levi states with a heavy sigh, waving a hand to flag down the waitress.

Tucked up along the back wall of the little pub, it’s amazing how quickly she spots the signal, coming over almost immediately. “Hi again! Are you guys ready to order drinks?”

“Yeah. What did you want, sweetheart? The wine?” Levi asks, using the term of endearment he knows always makes your heart race.

“Oh!” You quickly glance down at the drinks menu again, slightly bent from your nervous fingers. “I’ll have the raspberry liquor hot chocolate.”

Levi hums at your choice, no doubt holding back a snarky comment about your chocolate addiction. “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks.”

The waitress takes her time to write down your orders on her notepad. With a hum, her gaze sweeps Levi before she asks, “Can I see your ID, sir?”

Never breaking eye contact with you, Levi quickly reaches into his back pocket to procure his wallet. Flipping the leather open with a smooth flick of his wrist and pulling the plastic from its sleeve, he hands it to her. “Here.”

The waitress takes it, glancing back and forth between the card and your boyfriend several times with a click of her tongue. She bends it, the plastic creaking audibly in protest, as she accesses the ID.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone get ID’d so hard before. Levi gives you an exaggerated grimace, eyebrows tilting up as if to say ‘see’.

“Uh…I’ll be back real quick sir,” stutters the waitress, before she quickly shuffles towards the back of the establishment.

“She left with it!” you note, struggling to keep your voice low in your surprise.

“That happens sometimes,” Levi explains, unperturbed by her quick exit. “She’s probably going to show it to her supervisor. They’ll both be back in a moment.”

“You get ID’d a lot?” you question. “I’ve never seen anything this intense before.”

“Every goddamn time,” Levi spits with a roll of his eyes. “I’m in my fucking 30’s and I’ve never not been ID’d. They always think it’s fake! It’s embarrassing.”

Struggling to keep to a quiet chuckle, you laugh, “That’s why you never drink?”

Levi nods his head before speaking, “It's always a whole scene. I feel like an out of place teenager the entire time.”

You can only imagine how anxiety inducing it must feel, his skin prickling hot with nerves and anger. Levi certainly does look youthful, in more than just his stature. Despite the fact that he’s often scowling, his face is smooth and free from any lines of age or worry. Still, you wouldn’t dare think him underage. “That’s hilarious! It happens every time?”

“Mhmm,” Levi confirms with a hum. “Maybe it’ll stop once I start growing grey hairs.” With the words, Levi gestures to his inky locks, shining even in the low light of the pub.

“If you ever do! Your mom certainly hasn’t. You could just be doomed forever.” Only having met her a handful of times, even in her 60’s Kuchel -who wants you to call her Mom but you struggle with it- seems youthful and vibrant. “Oooh, I bet they still size-check you at amusement parks!”

“Hey-” Levi chides, lips turning up in a barely-there smile. Despite the stiffness in his jaw, there’s very telling crinkles around his eyes that betray the fact that he’s enjoying your banter.

Unheeded, you continue, “This isn’t nearly as bad as discovering you’re bi by clacking teeth with your best friend.”

“Fucking-“ Throwing his head back, Levi sighs over dramatically. “Do me a favor and never remind Erwin of that.”

“Oh I definitely will.” Your words bring about a full, beautiful, fond smile. Now that his reason for not partaking is out in the air, Levi seems more relaxed, his shoulders loose and his face open. It’s a rare sight, especially in public.

Heart hammering in your chest at the sight, you love him, you can’t help but think. It’s not a new revelation, but certainly not something you’ve ever said out loud. Suddenly you feel like you're bursting at the seams to let the words loose. This isn’t the place though, not in some cliche little restaurant and certainly not in public. You’ll tell him later, when there’s nothing between you but bed sheets.

Eyes full of scorching warmth, one of Levi’s hands reaches across the table to clasp yours, the thumb gliding smoothly across your knuckles. “Thank you, for this. For taking it all in stride. I know I can be…tedious at times. Part of me was afraid that the sheer awkwardness would ruin things.”

You love him. You love him. You love him.

The words burn hot on the tip of your tongue, desperate to leak out, so instead you say, “Levi Ackerman? Afraid? As if!”

You can see why he’d been so tentative in the first place. Had this been the first date, or even the second, and you’d been less familiar with one another, the awkward silence while waiting for his ID to be returned would have been excruciating. It’s already been over ten minutes since the waitress left and still there’s no sign of her return.

Part of you wonders if it’s ever ruined things before, you know his height has been an issue with previous dates. Given his hesitation, you're willing to bet it has. “Were you just gonna not drink forever then? Was that the plan?”

“Maybe…,” Levi starts, lips pursed in almost a pout. “I’m sure there would have been some sort of holiday gathering eventually where it wouldn’t have mattered.”

You smile, struggling to picture him sipping cheap beer at your regular family barbecues. “So you’ll be ordering with me from now on?”

“If you're okay with dealing with the whole rigamarole, sure.” Levi shrugs, eyes dark and fond as they bore into your own.

“I bet you're a lightweight,” you tease, squeezing his hand in your own.

“As if,” Levi scoffs. “Though admittedly it’s been awhile-“

“Oh, here they come. You were right, she brought the manager,” you interrupt, spotting a sharply dressed older woman following behind the waitress. As they approach, you spot the white plastic of Levi’s ID clasped between two of her fingers.

“Would you mind if I cause a bit of a scene?” Levi asks. “Sometimes if I bitch the restaurant will end up comping my meal.”

“That sounds like fun!” This whole thing certainly was a bit much. You understand carding is necessary but jeez. To another couple, this could have been a real disastrous stall to an otherwise lovely evening out. “I’ll help!”

#levi ackerman x reader #levi/reader #levi ackerman fluff #sfw #tw; alcohol #fluff #levi ackerman #mydrabbles #gender neutral reader #attack on titan fluff #levi fanfiction #fanfics

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mingzisdrgongxuo · 2 years

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lets see how many people talk about killing somebody, wanting to, or targeting others by name or career, or profession because they saw something on tv that a politician or celebrity in the media said.

are you sure i'm being too negative?

so and so is evil and should be destroyed, so and so did this, so and so did that. based on what a black tumblr screen told us.

doomsday soapbox bullshit.

where are the people that aren't playing the blame game?

idc who you are, whoever it is picks fights, or willfully butts heads, just to see if they can get a response as if it's a reward system for them.

you're not my boss, you're not my keeper. so what if i don't return my calls to people if i don't want to. i'll worry about it when reality occurs, not worry over implied threats or bullshit spewed forth. what's it to you? why the fuck do you know my phone's activity anyway?

why should i cooperate with you? feed you your wants like a feral cat, so i can plague myself with you and your bullshit backstabbing loyalties on the side behind my back as a return customer?

too bad, i don't care if you want to see porn. get your own hands dirty then "pious one". funny how he edifies devil worship and then he needs me to sin for him.

respect your host then idiot. life sucking, energy draining parasite.

yeah that's nice, we all know who's words you fall in line with, who's words cause you to shut the fuck up and stop fighting with somebody you wanted help or support from,...

and we know who's words you don't respect. mine.

the person you expect a reward from for provoking them.

i don't have to align with you. i'm not changing my loyalties over my reactions to what somebody else says or does.

you don't like it when i ditch your ass. too fucking bad. "your" "dog" would not run away from the hand that feeds if you did not give him reason to. am i fugitive from the law? no. am i fugitive from my family? no. do i owe anybody money? no. clean credit. no debts. no shitheads claiming to be a bill collector looking for me.

if i don't want you knowing a damned thing about me that's my choice. what's it to you? who are you informing about me behind my back?

i had to lie to my roomate about where i was moving to ditch your ass last time. the cops still knew where i was. the government still knew where i was, every time i went to the doctor. so it wasn't them being a fucking greifer or pain in my ass.

didn't i just get done saying i don't want to bond with anyone? oh, how surprising the way they are compelled to extend an invite after 6 months of social silence.

good job falling in line, willfilly dissonant, contrary asshole.

now, because dickhead needs a sacrifice or destruction, i'm turning down a dinner invitation. probably going to be a burned bridge and various bad friendship reviews. i don't trust their timing. calling out of nowhere after not speaking for a year. last time was thanksgiving at benihana. time before that was thanksgiving at their house, then hospital.

for my own peace of mind. no.

what's the pattern cause and effect when i attend dinner dates with these hosts? poisoning?

you'll do anything to snake or get inside someplace where you don't belong. incapacitate the victim, then you can raid or search through all his stuff and bug the shit out of everything and do inferior repair work at your liesure, with no resistance from the rightful owner. and if i give you shit for neglecting or not taking care of my things in my absence, i'm an ingrate.

you don't tell me a damn thing. i'm better safe than sorry, saving myself at the expense of "friendships".

one bad apple. throw them all out, so that i can live in peace.

at least i'll know im more likely to wake up alive and well, when i prepare my own food, or i can see my meal being prepared like benihana.

because this cause and effect has happened twice before. with no fear of consequence to the person who did it.

what do you get out of it? picking fights or trying to provoke or force a person to bend to your whim or want? what do you get out of it? what happens to you if you can't get a response? what if people won't take the bait in your destructive cockfight promoter mentality and noone puts on a show for you, destroying each others lives or careers, finances, or personal property, so you can sit in the comfort and safety of where you sit and laugh and cheer while somebody else suffers shit you would not want to go through if it was you. who the fuck are you Don King?

any more truths you need asshole?

how about these truths.

i'm not allowed to be smarter than you.

i'm not allowed to be funnier than you.

i'm not allowed to have more money than you.

i'm not allowed to have nicer things or a better house than you.

i'm not allowed to be better looking than you.

i'm not allowed to outrank, be stronger, or more powerful than you.

is that why you don't like it when i say something intelligent, or tell a joke? is that why you don't rest or stop bantering until i say something to make myself look stupid? is it because that is the only thing that makes you feel better? why do you need me to look worse than you?

that doesn't say a whole lot about you when you stand naked on your own merit.

everything that i do that is considered normal somehow makes you look stupid. when i'm not even thinking about you or trying to compete with anybody to impress upon others.

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rosethefrikiartist · 3 years

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Yandere Friday Night Funkin Characters Headcanons

These headcanons are about the polyamorous relationship "BF x GF x Pico x Reader"

I TRANSLATED THESE HEADCANONS WITH GOOGLE TRANSLATOR AND MY LIMITED KNOWLEDGE OF ENGLISH. If anyone of you notice any grammar and spelling errors, please let me know.

Warning: The characters are OOC. In this headcanon BF doesn't speak with "beep-bops", he speaks normal. All characters are +20 years old. Contains mentions of unhealthy relationships, stalking, violence, manipulation, torture, and murder.

BF / Keith

Obsessive yandere.

Despite his street outfit and his mocking and sarcastic attitude, he is a child in need of affection

He is a love-struck guy and he had a few lovers throughout his life, but his obsessive tendencies only manifested with Pico, Cherry and (Y / N).

He knows a large part of Cherry's life and Pico's dark secrets, he needs to know even the smallest detail about you: your likes, your passions, your fears, your goals, your dreams and hopes, EVERYTHING. This leads him to review all your social networks to find even the smallest information about your life.

He is very detailed, composing and singing songs about you, saving the money he has to take you and Pico to eat or to the cinema (he doesn't do the same with Cherry because she always pays the bills before he can take out his wallet) and he graffiti their faces on the dark streets of Philadelphia.

He will not deny you having contact with your family, having friends, a work and other types of human contact, but he would be very distrustful of others, demonstrating it in passive-aggressive comments and small malicious actions (such as closing doors in the face).

He's not aware of his yandere tendencies at all, since he believes that what he does is completely normal in a relationship.

He usually feels very nervous when he doesn't spend time with you, Pico and Cherry, he constantly checking your social networks to see your latest connections. He only calms down when you text him or give him physical affection.

Disputes are very rare, but when happen he panics, because seeing and hearing the anger, sadness and disagreement drives him crazy, he will start crying and begging for forgiveness, even if he did not start the dispute. This is a bad combination with Pico's attitude, and you generally comfort him.

In case someone comes to insult you, he will go into defensive mode. His silver tongue is his best weapon and he will begin to destroy the aggressor with words, be it in a freestyle battle or in a verbal fight.

If things get physical, Keith won't hesitate to fight. This little gremlin has fast and light feet, being able to deliver several kicks in a short time. Although he doesn't have much strength, he makes up for it with his speed and agility.

GF/Cherry

Manipulative Yandere.

Don't be fooled by her relaxed attitude and her pretty face, this demonic girl can be a real beast when she proposes it to her.

She had many lovers, but none of them lasted more than a few months, since they were only interested in her because of her appearance or her money, but that changed when she met Keith and (Y / N).

She loves to be given handmade things, even if they are not expensive, because she prefers something made with love and dedication (like a letter, a dessert or a song).

She has no qualms about spending huge amounts of money on you and Keith (and Pico when he joins), whether it's shopping for high-quality clothes, dining out at fancy restaurants, or going to expensive bars. Money has no value to her, but seeing your happy faces warms her heart.

Like Keith, Cherry will not deny you have contact with other humans, but she will monitor them very closely, without ANYONE noticing her. This girl is an evil detector, and at the slightest hint of malice or interest on the part of someone, she will manipulate you to end any friendship or relationship, without raising suspicion.

She is aware of her yandere tendencies, but she justifies herself by saying that she does everything for the sake of her relationships.

She doesn't get nervous as Keith when she doesn't spend time with you (she doesn't care so much about Poco because she knows he can take care of himself, although she still keeps an eye on him), since she can check your social networks to see how are you. If that doesn't reassure her, she can hire someone to watch over you or she can use her demonic powers to do it herself.

Disputes are rare and when they occur she doesn't lose her composure. She will try to reach an agreement between the two of you to solve the problem, but if things don't improve or she doesn't like the agreement, she is not afraid to use her manipulation tactics against you. She has manipulate Keith and Pico on more than one occasion, don't challenge her.

In case someone comes to attack you, that person only has 2 destinies: pain or death. If it was only a verbal attack, Cherry may spare their life and only leave their with severe trauma and physical injuries, depending on what their said (and depending on whether it's just you and her or Keith is there too). But if it was a physical assault, that person is dead, either at that moment (especially if Pico is there) or a few hours later, but their will definitely not see the dawn of a new day.

Pico

Possessive and overprotective yandere AF

He has a hard time being able to open up to others due to his dark past, and it is even more difficult for him to be able to fall in love with someone, but when he does, oh boy! he fall hard. He has only fallen in love with 2 people: Keith and (Y / N).

He isn't a very expressive person with his affection, being quite serious at first, but as things warm up he will show more and more acts of affection.

He doesn't know how to react when you give him things, he gets very nervous and blushes, even if you give him small things or very simple details. Anything you give him (except food) he will keep in a safe and he cherished for a lifetime.

He is very suspicious and aggressive towards anyone who comes into contact with you and Keith, even they be close friends or casual acquaintances. He only relaxes when he's with Cherry, Darnell, and Nene.

The traumas of his past make him reckless and impulsive, being someone violent, but directing that violence against other people instead of against you.

Pico is fully aware of his yandere and violent tendencies, coming to feel guilty for longing for your love, but at the same time he's feeling jealous and sick if he imagines you with someone other than him, Keith or Cherry.

He is a total paranoid when you are not near him, because the voices in his head torment him telling him that someone is going to hurt or kill you, he will reach the extreme of stalking you to know where you are to be able to calm him down. If he can't do this, he ask Cherry to keep an eye on you.

Disputes happen with some frequency, generally caused by his paranoia and fear (or when he hears Cassandra's voice telling him in his ear that she will torture and kill you to make him suffer).

These disputes can quickly turn into verbal fights where Pico dissociates himself from reality (this is noticeable because his eyes go from graylish green to pure white) and he can say very hurtful things. By now, you and Cherry should calm him down (or knock him out, whichever comes first).

If these disputes escalate too far, Pico will leave the house, with gun in hand, to vent his anger and frustrations on the first petty thief he meets (however, no one will be bothered if an unidentified corpse is found in an alley in the dangerous area of the city).

In case someone comes to attack you or Keith, that person is dead or invalid, without prior exchange of words. If it is a verbal attack, the bullet will lodge in their spinal column, and if it is a physical attack, in their skull, without any remorse. Suffering can be prolonged if Cherry is there.

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— ITADORI YUJI || MANGO

↳ featuring : itadori yuji from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 03 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 1.3k

↳ synopsis : you and itadori are about to finsh your date with a meal at a restaurant that itadori has been dying to take you to. however, while discussing what you both are planning to order, you both suddenly managed to become face to face with each other.

↳ request : I've always been too shy to request but here we go! Can I order a Yuji x reader romantic first kiss? Like it's both their first kiss and it happens unexpectedly but very cute. I hope this is fine😅 Love your writing❤ Have a good day and stay hydrated❤❤

↳ barista’s notes : so, as you can see, i suck at synopsises ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ but this is the first imagine of the month and it includes the main character of jujutsu kaisen: itadori yuji! i hooe you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please don’t be shy to order again soon ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

“I went to this restaurant with Fushiguro and Kugisako before you came and it was amazing!” Itadori exclaimed as he smiled brightly at you causing you to reciprocate the action back to him as if his bright nature was somehow radiating itself to you.

“Is it? I remember Fushiguro telling me something about you guys going to a Chinese restaurant, is it this one?” you casually asked, as you suddenly began to recall the time when Fushiguro muttered something about craving Tan-men after a mission leading you to ask him what he was on about.

“Yeah, that one! It’s really good even though the meat Dango is really expensive, can you believe it’s 1100 yen?” Itadori complained, leading you to laugh since his face was displaying an expression of complete shock.

At this moment in time, you and Itadori were walking through the streets of Tokyo hand in hand after spending the whole day in the arcade playing random machine games, trying competitively hard to stock up on as many tickets as possible. It was surprising since you both rarely had any free time to go on any dates due to your lives as jujutsu sorcerers at Tokyo Metropolitian Curse Technical College meaning this date was actually your fifth one now that you thought about it.

‘It’s strange that we've been on so little dates yet seem like a normal long-term couple ha?’

“Y/N, we’re here!” Itadori excitedly announced, leading you to snap out of your quick daze before being guided to the menu that was brightly displayed in front of the small but busy Chinese restaurant that you had mentioned earlier.

“This is a really long menu,” you muttered quietly, as your eyes widened at the multitude of choices you had right in front of you. There were many types of dishes waiting to be chosen, from rice dishes, classic noodles dishes and even street food that you rarely see being prepared in Japan, leading your eyes to widen more at the sight. “But I’m not really surprised since it is quite common for Chinese restaurants to have such a large menu. I wonder how the cooks remember all the dishes they make?” you questioned, leading to your cheerful boyfriend to turn his head to the side to look at you before slowly smiling at the adorable sight of one of your hands holding your chin, as you continued to scan the display to choose when to order.

Itadori remembered the day you arrived in Tokyo to finally enrol in Jujutsu Tech. You came a day after Kugisaki did - much to her glee since that meant she wasn’t the only female in the group now - and he was surprised when he learned you were from the Kyoto side leading to his friend, Fushiguro to question on why you didn’t enrol that side of the school. However, he didn’t remember what you had stated since he was so entranced in your beauty the second you stepped out of the station leading him to nearly forget to introduce himself to you - he still remembers the light giggle you gave him when you caught him in the flustered moment.

“Babe, I’m going for the Tan-men, what are you getting?” you suddenly asked, leading Itadori to snap out of his daydream trace before he came to the sudden realisation of what you had just referred him to which caused a light pink hue to shyly appear on his face.

“Wait Tan-men? That’s what Fushiguro ordered last time,” Itadori stated, leading you to nod at his statement as you then explained that Fushiguro recommended it to you since he really was a fan of the chopped ginger that came with the broth and you were dying to try it ever since he had mentioned it since he gave it such a hyped review from his non-chantant tone - it was surprising that he had convinced you to get it.

“I’m going to get a large Chinese soba,” the salmon-haired boy then informed you as he turned to the menu and pointed at his option, causing you to look at him in astonishment since from what you could see from the picture on the menu displayed in front of you, the large portion size seemed bigger than the size of your face. However, you weren’t too much in shock since this was Itadori you were talking to, his strength must have come from somewhere but you couldn’t help but question his choice.

“Are you sure? It is quite a large portion,” you told him in a concerned tone as you looked up at him, leading to your boyfriend to laugh slightly as he then explained, “I ordered the same thing last time and I was craving it so bad that I had to get it again.” to which then he slowly turned his head to look at you.

However, when he fully turned his head to look down at you, his eyes suddenly widened as well as yours. You didn’t realise how close you were to him, which resulted in the tip of your nose to touch your boyfriend’s, but you couldn’t pull back at all. It was as if you both were the opposite ends of a magnet that was attracted to each other, desperately itching to come closer and closer together to finally touch.

Slowly, Itadori’s bright brown eyes began to look down at you lips, he only just noticed the hint of shine they had to them due to the lip balm you had put on while you and him were making your way to the restaurant.

What flavour was it again?

Cherry? Nah, that’s too stereotypical.

Strawberry? Can’t be, the balm wasn’t pink.

Wait, what colour was it again?

“Can...I?” Itadori hesitantly asked, leading you to shyly nod your head as you didn’t trust your words at all at this point. Steadily, Itadori began to lean closer to you causing you to pull in all your strength to make your head stay still since you didn’t want to miss the chance at all.

Slowly but surely, Itadori’s lips met with your leading you to slowly close your eyes, trying to savour the feeling of your first kiss with the boy in front of you. Suddenly, your felt something warm steadily being placed on your cheek, leading you to place your hand on top of it, only to find that it was Itadori’s hand causing the warmth that was given to you by his hand to become increasingly hot as the hint of embarrassment and desire within your heart became evident as you used your other hand to grip on to his jacket to keep the attraction of your lips on his even if you were gradually losing oxygen.

Regrettably, Itadori had to leisurely pull away allowing the both of you and him to gather the air that was needed to be supplied for your lungs. However, what you didn’t realise was the Itadori took a quick lick on the bottom of his lips causing him to have a slight taste of what your lips were coated in.

“Mango?” he suddenly questioned, leading you to look at Itadori with a questionable look before instantly coming to the realisation on what he was on about.

“Oh! It’s the new Glossier mango balm that I got with Kugisaki when we went out together,” you answered, as you rummaged through your bag to pull out the said item before continuing with, “they were doing a deal of getting two mango’s and choose two more for half price, so I got rose and Kugisaki chose the other one.”

Nodding at your explanation with a bright smile on his face, Itadori grabbed your hand and pulled you into the restaurant that might have seen the romantic act from the small window at the front. However, that somehow didn’t affect the both of you even when there was evidence of the rosy cheeks on both of your expressions.

“Mango suits you Y/N, you should wear it more often!”

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fatehbaz · 3 years

Note

hi maybe you’ve written about this before but i’m working for someone who is part of the ecological landscape alliance and we’ve been having big talks about the concept of “invasive” species vs “native” plants and how the concept is rooted in xenophobia, and also talking about how maybe invasive plants aren’t that bad?? this goes against everything i’ve ever heard anyone talk about invasive species but i really don’t know all that much about it. sounds silly maybe coming from a farmer but i really don’t have a super firm ecological understanding, most of my plant knowledge is agricultural based and im really curious to learn more and was hoping you could point me in the right direction?

Yes, I definitely run into this disk horse all the time. Especially the “maybe invasive plants aren’t that bad” discussion. It seems the native/alien stuff is most often mentioned in disk horse about the Anthropocene. Basically, you’ll sometimes see statements like: “Is anything really natural in the Anthropocene?” I have also seen, and spent a lot of time contemplating, how belief in the categories of “natural” and “alien/invasive” in discussion of ecology might be rooted in or at least inadvertently support racism/xenophobia.

But I am still wary of the “native vs alien” and “no creature or landscape is really natural, not any more” disk horse, at least as explored by some white/settler-colonial academics, for exactly the same reasons: because it might be rooted in or support racism/xenophobia. Because the proposal that “nothing is native, nothing is invasive” itself can actually engage in a sort of “settler absolution” that obscures how there really is a contrast between imperial and Indigenous peoples, and the “nothing is natural, nothing is invasive” proposal could excuse the colonial/imperial introduction and expansion of monoculture by accepting the spread of industry/agriculture/non-native species as an inevitability. And these concepts can actually work to generalize conditions of ecological degradation and apocalypse, as if to say that “all humans now live in such a damaged world, we’re all victims” (even though many non-white, especially Indigenous, people actually bear most of the violence and burden of living in “post-apocalyptic” ecologies.)

But actually, I don’t think I can be too helpful here.

I still have a lot of contemplating to do, about how categories of natural/invasive in ecology might support the violence of categorizing people as natural/invasive. Don’t really know where I stand yet, y’know? So I don’t want to be too quick to come to a conclusion. I don’t even really want to offer opinions here. That said, I am very sensitive to language, and the language that I use. So I do appreciate that there is an effort to interrogate the negative consequences of describing things with words like “alien”. Also, the categorizing of lifeforms is and always has been a mess.

I don’t have many reading recommendations. The “native vs alien” and “nothing is really native, actually” proposals are concepts that I brush up against but don’t read too deeply into, even though this disk horse has been popular-ish in dark ecology and academic ecology/environmental studies circles for at least 10 years or more by now.

I guess, for my thoughts on native vs alien, what counts as “natural”, invasive species, and how the disk horse can excuse settler-colonial/imperial racism, I would point to this post I made about Pablo Escobar’s feral hippopotamuses in Colombia.

One introduction to the concept, which I think is an enjoyable read (though I don’t necessarily agree with all of his implications), is this essay by Hugo Reinert about the category of “natural” and the “purity” of a species: “Requiem for a Junk-Bird: Violence, Purity and the Wild.” Cultural Studies Review. 2019.

Anna Boswell’s very famous article about stoats and non-native species in Aotearoa kind of dances around this same issue of naturalness: “Settler Sanctuaries and the Stoat-Free State.” Animal Studies Journal. 2017.

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Generally, I agree with the implication that there is no “remote” or untouched corner of the planet where ecology has escaped human influence.

On that aspect, here’s a post I made about “planetary urbanization”.

But the native/alien disk horse can be extended to problematique degrees, with proposals that sometimes remind me of sci-fi goofiness, like fans of dark ecology or weird fiction or Mieville/Van der Meer got a little too excited about “the boundary between human and other-than-human has become so blurred that there may as well no longer be distinctions between native species and invasive species”, like they got a little too drunk on theory and just decided that “everything is in flux!”. Criticisms, then, of the “nothing is native” disk horse include how this oversimiplifies ecology and might enable/excuse settler-colonial invasion.

A lot of the “invasive plants are good, actually!” disk horse I’ve seen shows up in Australian literature written by settler scholars, which might be pretty telling.

Basically, it seems some scholars will take Alfred Crosby’s “neo-Europe” and “ecological imperialism” concepts, and then say something like “look, the damage is done, so much of Earth’s soils/landscapes are altered by introduced plants that we may as well accept it as the new baseline/normal ecology, and work from there.” As if to point at how North America has been entirely overrun by non-native earthworms and then to say “well, the worms are going to inevitably destroy hardwoods forests, soils of the Great Lakes region, the boreal-temperate transition zone, and maple trees which supply place-based maple syrup foodsheds, so we may as well accept that we live in a damaged world.”

I don’t know if I’m entirely satisfied with this.

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Other related concepts brought up in the same discussion of “nothing is really native” might include “invasion biology” and “assisted migration.” I see these concepts brought up in academic writing from the University of California system, Australia, Aotearoa/New Zealand, and “environmental humanities” generally. Basically, these writers/scholars will point to the past ten thousand-ish years of the Holocene, and how humans have had such profound influence on global ecology that “introduction of non-native species” and “mass-scale anthropogenic climate/ecological change” are not just recent developments since Industrial Revolution or Indus/Yellow/Mesopotamian statecraft, but even older. For example, I’ve talked a lot about how, in the Late Pleistocene or early Holocene, the Asiatic steppes and parts of the Great Plains could have apparently been more like intermittent woodlands before humans engaged in deliberate fire-setting to better target megafauna herds, meaning that the human role in creation of vast “naturally-occurring” grassland regions may be underestimated. This dove-tails with the better-established fact that the forests of Central America and eastern North America in the early Holocene were/are actually more like cultivated food forests managed by Indigenous people.

The argument, then, may also point to yams, sweet potato, and coconut as examples of creatures with what now appear to be “old” and “established” widespread transoceanic distribution ranges which actually may have been introduced via assisted migration by humans.

The argument, basically, says: Well, let’s say hypothetically that humans didn’t play a role in spreading sweet potato or coconut. By chance, if ocean currents “naturally” introduced these species, if these plants “naturally” colonized whatever lands they were swept off towards, doesn’t this mean they could essentially be “natural” to anywhere they might arrive and successfully establish themselves? Therefore, does it really matter if humans helped them get there?

This seems to be related to the “no plants are actually invasive” proposal. As if to say: “If English pasture grasses have successfully reproduced themselves in Patagonia, Aotearoa, South Africa, the Canadian prairies, etc., what does it mean that their migration was assisted by humans?”

But this is where I have reservations: It wasn’t just any humans that “assisted the migration” of monoculture grasses from Europe to the prairies of Turtle Island. It was specific humans, with deliberate intent, upholding specific institutions, protecting their own well-being at the expense of other humans and lifeforms, enacting specific violence against specific victims.

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Another aspect of this which I see mentioned often is how early human/Polynesian settlement in Oceania and the South Pacific is an example of how mass anthropogenic ecological change doesn’t always involve statecraft, mass mono/agriculture, and imperialism. Aside from the famous decline of creatures like the moa, Polynesian islands were also home to relict species of large land turtles and ancient terrestrial/semi-arboreal crocodiles until human arrival in recent millennia. Writers will also point to human settlement in the Caribbean, where human arrival coincided with extinction of remnant populations of endemic Pleistocene ground sloths. (This also happened on Mediterranean islands, which hosted endemic species of hippopotamus and goats until recent millennia.)

Again, though, this is where white/settler-colonial academics advocating “nothing is natural” can kind of obscure settler-colonial violence, by pointing to history of anthropogenic environmental change and saying “see, all humans provoke extinction.”

Thus, you’ll see these scholars invoke Anna Tsing or Donna Harraway, referencing the “arts of living on a damaged planet” or “living in post-capitalist ruins.” Essentially, advocates of “nothing is native, any more” might say “we all live in a post-apocalyptic world now, so we should get used to it.”

This, coming from white/settler-colonial academics, sometimes rubs me the wrong way, as if it’s sort of like wish-fulfillment, or “an adventure” for comfortable white academics to engage in low-stakes thought experiments about extinction, naturalness, and apocalypse from which they’re actually largely insulated, at least compared to the poor, non-white, non-academic people who cope with the worst of environmental racism and ecological collapse.

This, again coming from white/settler-colonial academics, is also of course more than a little grating, since it kind of co-opts or culturally appropriates the “Indigenous/Native people actually live in a post-apocalyptic world” concept proposed by Indigenous scholars. It kind of takes from Indigenous/non-white people, and then generalizes the apocalypse as something that all humans now live with in seemingly equal measure, obscuring the fact that many people are actually forced to cope and/or live with more-serious-of-an-apocalypse than others.

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At the end of the day: Sure, kudzu or English pasture grasses or coconuts or European earthworms or domesticated cattle might be generalist species which can successfully inhabit landscapes across the planet. So whether humans introduce them via agriculture, or whether they "naturally" expand by some accident or by drifting across ocean currents, they might exist in this strange ontological space between "native" and "alien" which confounds human conceptions of what "belongs"? And this is worth considering! This is good to think about! But there are still, and always have been, those "small" landscapes, those isolated pockets, those relicts and remnants in shaded stream corridors, where small populations of endemic species teeter on the verge, with highly-specialized adaptations to highly-specific microhabitats. You're not going to "assist the migration" of or "accidentally introduce" a cave-obligate salamander from a limestone cavern or a temperate rainforest-dwelling land-slug to a desert biome.

But, again, I still think it is good to stop and ask ourselves whether categories of “natural” and “alien/invasive” in ecology make sense, are outdated, or if they reinforce racism/xenophobia. And, again, I haven’t read enough -- I haven’t grappled with these questions enough -- to have an opinion which I’m comfortable sharing, so I don’t want to discourage this disk horse too much.

Anyway, hope some of this is interesting. Sorry. Again, I don’t really have any good recommendations.

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Text

Saeran’s Passport Package

I’ve been waiting since the 19th to get my hands on this baby and I’m glad that it got here today. It took me a little bit to sit down and go through everything cause I wanted to cry about it the entire time.

Spoilers Ahead, everyone. So, if you’re not interested in seeing what’s in the Passport set AFTER the events of Saeran’s After Ending, then do not click Read More, got it? I’ve made it clear to you. I will say that it’s worth the money if you’re debating buying it.

So, we can go over the contents in the box, first as an overview. You receive a letter stamped with a cute sticker as well as the passport itself which holds the notes that Saeran’s been taking and drawing since this all started. I just think that’s cute. My brain said don’t open that passport until we review the letter first so, why don’t we go over the letter first? The little details are really cute. There’s just so many stamps on this baby.

The little touches are what sell it. You’ve got this man putting his love all over it and there’s a CUTE NOTE of CATS. Sir, was that a touch to Saeyoung? I know you know that your brother is a dork. Homage to brother who is an idiot but too glaringly obvious. It got a chuckle out of me. I know this man, and it’s just getting to me.

The passport itself is also really cute. It has the art from the promo banner but instead of everyone hustling around together, there’s new poses and all of that jazz. Jaehee isn’t rushing around. Zen’s got a selfie stick, no surprise on that front. Jumin just chilling. Seven and Yoosung... doing what they do best and you know it. RUN, YOOSUNG, RUN.

Saeran and MC... being cute on the inside made me go, “Aw!” Ice cream. They can really just put ice cream and it’s going to make me cry, huh? Really? Is that how easy this is? Am I a joke to you, Cheritz? Is that what this is?

Now, if you want to talk about the contents in the letter, you get this sheet that is listed in three languages, surprised me, Korean, Spanish, and English, and it lets you tick off little things that you like to do. An itinerary sheet. I feel like this is purely Jumin crafting these. It asks about Cats. Literally. Cats. Wine? Yeah, this is on Jumin. You always come in flex, Jumin, but oh boy, I’m chuckling over here at these little touches.

You get 2 boarding passes. One with Saeran’s name and one with a blank to fill in your name. I thought that was cute. Tying in that with the CG of the passes in the game with this just makes it more real to me. I’m holding this in my hands and it just makes my immersion feel much more real than it did when I was holding my phone in my hand and playing this out.

I think merch like this just makes you feel more apart of the story then you do when you’re able to talk and chat, you know? If you really like feeling like you are involved with the game, this is how you do it. You wanna know how I know that Jumin is the one setting this up with Saeran? Flip over the fucking passport and you realize that Elizabeth is on the back.

I’m still laughing.

I’m trying to imagine this and now, like, I’m starting to see why Jaehee is so damn tired because Elizabeth really is on everything that he can get his hands on and she’s good too many files to sort through when it comes to whatever the photographers take of her. Jumin can’t take photos. He’s either got Jihyun to do this for him at some point, or he’s straight up hiring photographers for her cause he can’t do it.

I mean, we all know that Jumin will put Elizabeth everywhere but I just— It’s on the BOARDING PASSES? JUMIN!

There’s also a postcard within the letter that is once more, written in all three aforementioned languages. Saeran says that it feels like a dream when he is with you, like this is where he’s always meant to be. His promise of happiness is made truest when he’s with you. I teared up a little. I know that he means well when he does that but damn, does it take an arrow to the heart every single time he does it.

Saeran put a lot of thought into this in a very short amount of time. I know that he did this plan likely with the idea that he may not be able to go with us but he wanted us to be able to see the world for him. You know, how he implied that he wanted Saeyoung to see things for him? To live for him? Even if he was dead, he wanted Saeyoung and the player to be happy and free.

The blurred state on those... doesn’t have names. It doesn’t name Saeran in this photo.

The implication of his sacrifice with the boarding passes kind of hurts because this is a side note of the fact that Saeran Did Not Know If He Would Live To See This Through. He made it thinking maybe.. if things worked out, it would be an okay future, but this was... God. I just. I’m thinking about the weight of the AE and what that felt like. I almost glossed over the Boarding Pass because I was just so upset with him.

I’m the type to try to sacrifice myself for others, too. I have that in common with Saeyoung and Saeran.

I think that we’d argue over who should die for the others and while that’s macabre, it’s just the kind of people that we are. We love these people so much that we’re willing to die if they’re safe and sound. Knowing that, I understand what Saeran tried, and even what Saeyoung tries, but it’s hard cause I want to make sure they’re happy in comparison to myself.

This is where being selfless is a bad thing.

Does anyone know what a big deal it is for Saeran to have a passport? He’s never had an ID or paperwork in his entire life. If he did, he would’ve been killed, so would his brother. They’re both never had IDs. Unless you count the ones from the Agency and Mint Eye. They’ve got them in the Believer box with their names and faces, but that’s not official. That’s not paperwork that everyone else has. That’s just...

You know?

Seeing this tangible thing in my hands is a testament to Saeran Choi being alive and thriving. He’s not afraid of showing his face. He’s living. He’s a free man and nobody can kill him for existing. Does that not weigh on anyone here? It hit me and I wanted to cry. I might break down thinking about this later because I just take this too seriously. Look at him. Look at HIM. Okay? Did you look? Now, LOOK AGAIN.

Okay, I’m not going to share every single page inside of the passport but I will give you little snippets of the journey ahead and show you what he writes and draws. Yes, he’s drawing. I knew that he was talented because he is great at doodling and drawing, but he knows how to have such a cute style that I want to gush about and he probably has no clue about how cute it is because nobody’s ever told him!

Okay, so the trip is broken up over a few months and into segments. You know how I was surprised by the 3 languages? Yes, this passport is written in three languages and it stays that way. It implies that Saeran knows English and Spanish, or at the very least, he’s been studying them, I get that it’s kind of a neat tie in to make sure that all languages are included but I only English and I can only read Spanish, I suck at conversational Spanish, so I could only read the English and Spanish sections.

So, if anyone wants to throw in what the Korean segments say, please do. I have a rough idea, but it’d be nice to know. The first segment of the trip is spent traveling over Korea. You see the things that he packed in the bag!

I almost had a heart attack because I thought the vitamins were Caffeine Pills. I was about to beat my Husband and make him go to bed. Thin ice, Saeran. Thin ice, the Special Believer package implied you take more then ten and I want you to go the fuck to sleep at night.

He packed his hanbok! Look! You remember? From the title screen event? The blue shirt is the one that he matches with MC in. There’s so much I’m screaming about it.

It shows you things that you do. Like, biking, karaoke, gardens... is there a locket bridge in Korea? You know? If you put them together on a bridge, it’s said that your love lasts forever. I forget where that came from but I guess there must be one in South Korea, too. Oh, and food. Can you believe that he can eat whatever he wants now? I’m sobbing.

Please.

HE’S IN HANBOK. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Okay, here’s the thing. I only have one gripe with the Passport Package and I’m going to say this again at the end, but I really wish that they had included big photos for this because the Passport itself it rather small and I wish that I could have bigger photos of this. It’s my only complaint. Literally, it’s the only thing I have to say about the box that will affect my rating. Look, we’re doing cheesy couple stuff!

HE’S DOING THE HEART THING WITH HIS HANDS.

A KISS.

KISS.

GUSHING.

DYING. HELP. ME.

God, I wish I wasn’t broke. I would commission someone to do this for my MC.

The second and third portion of the trip are spent in the U.S.A. and Mexico, I was so surprised by that! New York and Hawaii specifically are what they name and I was. Well, those are really far apart, huh. I mean, those are very popular spots. I’m not surprised. I’m chuckling because he’s got matching outfits.

Saeran Choi, you really want the embarrassing couple look, don’t you? Well, if it’s for you, I’d do it. Did... Saeyoung or Jumin set us up, are we fucking loaded? There’s mad bank here.

Saeran and MC basically are living per Jumin and Saeyoung, to be honest, because Saeran’s never had a job and MC is... your MC literally agrees to go and test a game in the woods, how good can our lives be? I’m broke, boy. I ain’t got nothing. So, I like to think that those two are offering to let Saeran be as happy and free as he wants. No expense. Like, kindness. The RFA is too damn much, I’m gonna cry. I’m starting to understand why the RFA didn’t hear from us for months.

The final Check-In with the RFA is set 6 Months after the events that take place when we save Saeran. The events of this Passport cover 3 months. So, we go back to Korea after this adventure and met up with Saeyoung, because we know that we’re hanging out with him in the conclusion. So, if they haven’t really heard from us, that means that we’ve been traveling more with him.

I kind of like that.

We’re spending time with Saeran alone and time with the brothers together, and that’s sweet! I love that. I need to write more about it.

I’m trying not to laugh about this Mexico portion but it looks like he passed out from an ice tea... lemonade...? It’s surely not alcohol. Maybe too much sugar, I know that crash can hurt. I’ve been there. I just know that you’re not implying the man with alcohol trauma is gonna drink. Nope. Neither he nor Saeyoung ever will do that. I stand by that statement and I’ll die by that statement. Bite me my tongue if I’m wrong, but I stand by that.

Saeran is at least mindful of the sun. He’s also made notes that the perfect time for sunset is 18:34. Cute. He notes that it’s time for the Day of the Dead as well, so that’s fun!

IS THAT A FUCKING V CACTUS—

TWO V CACTUS—

There’s actually a portion in here where he asks you certain questions and you have the space to fill in it. I like that it’s interactive.

Do you have favorites sweets? Are there things about yourself that you hide? Did you make sure to ask Santa what you wanted? I’m wheezing. The food doodles are one thing, and the Christmas photo is one thing, but he really drew himself as a butterfly and the MC as a bug catcher.

“CATCH ME, MC.”

Help me.

I’m laughing so hard.

Saeran, you fucking goofball.

And, the last page of the passport is us assumedly returning home with all kinds of trinkets and gifts. Flower crown, snow globe, cactus, hats, listen, there’s a lot of details in this photos that I really wish I could have it blown up.

That’s really my only complaint about the Passport Package. I really want to have bigger photos that are shared. I wouldn’t have minded if it was the photo of the final CG in the game, or the Christmas photo, I really would have enjoyed getting that to have for myself.

You know? The passport itself is roughly like 5 x 7 or so, so while it’s not big, it’s still like. I would love to see the details blown up. It’s smaller then the diary, that I know for sure. I think it’s the only thing stopping from giving Cheritz a 10/10 on this item.

I’m going to have to give them a 9.8/10 simply because it feels like we are lacking one big photo.

I guess I’ll print my favorite CGs and decorate my room like that. But, all and all, I really enjoyed reading this and it made it feel like I was there and I was able to reflect on Saeran’s vacation with the player. Like, he was doing this as we were going using his little doodles... I’m in love with this fucking sap. I’d say that this is worth the money.

For sure.

My only gripe aside. That’s a personal problem, not really a content problem. I love this bastard.

Look at him, he’s GOT A PLUSHIE. I have so many things that I want to write about now thanks to this. Saeran, darling, sweetie, my love, I am dying. Either way, I’m glad this arrived when it did. I needed this. I justified getting this for myself because I don’t expect to get anything for my birthday in early February but I’m happy I have him.

It’s been five years since I found this game in August 2016. I’m happy that it’s been here with me.

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bluegarners · 3 years

Text

“Dick has an overdose at a gala, hurt/comfort” ~ anon

~oOo~

He forgot to take his meds this morning.

Dick blows out a frustrated breath because that means he’s going to have to rearrange his entire cycle in order to not double dose. He always takes Zoloft in the morning with his breakfast and protein shake, and then the rest of the day goes smoothly and he can go to bed without the lingering worry of whether or not he remembered to do something. It’s an ingrained part of his routine and Dick is kicking himself for having forgotten to do it today.

The little yellow-tinted pill in his hand mocks him of his absent mindedness. The entire day had thrown him off of his usual planning, the not so gentle reminder of tonight’s charity gala for leukemia causing him to flit about in an attempt at getting his very much not used suit dry cleaned for the evening. Alfred would probably feel the need to strangle his first grandchild if Dick showed up with a wrinkled suit smelling of dust and disuse.

That wrench thrown into his day leads him to where he is now, staring down the pill in his hand and holding a glass of water in the other. He could always take his meds tomorrow so his routine wouldn’t be thrown off so drastically, but even the thought of doing so makes his hands feel clammy for skipping an entire day. He promised his psychiatrist he was going to take these things more seriously and he wanted to at least start that off by regularly taking his prescription. It had been working, so far, and Dick really didn’t want to fall into the bad habit of “skip-days”, so with one fluid motion, he was swallowing the pill and gulping down water.

Tonight was going to be fun at least. Even with his flighty day and the hassle it was doing things he should’ve done the previous week, Dick was excited to go to a gala for once. It was one of the rare occasions where Bruce had managed to convince all of his wayward children to go, and it had been far too long since Dick had spent some time with all of his siblings. He saw Damian at least once a week, Tim as well, but Jason had been a struggle to get a hold of and Cass and Duke were always busy with their own responsibilities. Not that Dick wasn’t busy as well, but in his book, there was always time for family.

Dick walks out of the bathroom, feeling slightly more pleased with himself for following through with his promise, and quickly walks to the garage where most of the family had already gathered. Had it not been for the fact that Cass and Duke happened to be staying at the Manor that week, Dick would have driven by himself to the banquet hall, but as it were, he was going to make every effort possible to squeeze in as much time as he could to be with his brothers and sister.

A slight problem arose though, as fitting eight total people into one car, driver included, was a tight fit. However, living with a billionaire had numerous perks, one of which being that they could choose from a variety of overly expensive cars and limousines and tonight, Alfred had chosen a classy black limo with leather seats and a cooler filled with bite-size cucumber sandwiches and bottled waters because, “In all of the many years of hosting galas, the Bestout family has yet to figure out how to properly serve a banquet.”

Slipping into the passenger seats, Dick was slightly giddy at the sight of both Damian and Duke already munching on a few of the snacks Alfred had prepared, Tim typing away on his phone and Cass curiously peering over his shoulder. They all looked dashing in their respective suits, and Dick reached out to lightly pat the head of the youngest, careful as to not disturb the neatly gelled locks of hair.

“Richard,” Damian acknowledges, a stray piece of bread clinging firmly to the side of his mouth. Adorable. “Where is Todd and Father?”

Before Dick has a chance to reply, Bruce and Jason step into the garage, Bruce’s hand latched firmly onto the third oldest’s shoulder. Dick can hardly hide his grin as Jason huffily plops down into the seat next to him, obviously still miffed at being forced to go to the gala. Bruce follows shortly after, taking his place besides Cass and in front of Dick, reaching into the cooler as well to retrieve a sandwich.

“Shall we proceed, sir?” Alfred calls from the front, the small window dividing the driver from the passengers a perfect view of the butler’s unimpressed eyebrows. “Or should we wait until the gala has ended to arrive?”

“Yes please. Sorry, Alfred.”

With that, they roll out of the Wayne Manor grounds and begin the short drive to the Bestout Charity Auction. Dick, personally, had no money to bid with and no intention to do so at all, but Bruce’s pockets went deep and they had already planned on what pieces to bid on and who to out-bid. Tim had made the bet that their “rivals” would attempt to out-bid the Waynes this year, and Tim was nothing but prideful on keeping the Wayne name free of that sort of blasphemy. He had done the math, was probably reviewing it on his phone at the moment, and had estimated that they could easily bid away about seven million dollars on a singular piece tonight if things went according to plan.

Money. Old money at that.

He feels a small tap on his shin then, and looks over to where Cass is gazing at him. She quirks her eyebrow, holding out her right palm and twisting her left middle finger against it. He nods, giving her two thumbs up and saying, “I remembered, don’t worry.”

She smiles, satisfied, before going back over to whatever Tim was doing on his phone. The rest of the ride is mostly silent, Dick basking in the presence of his family, until they finally pull up to the entrance. They are precisely thirty minutes late, fashionably so, and Jason is the first one to exit, followed then by Bruce, Cass, Tim, Duke, Damian, and lastly Dick.

Immediately, they are met with the flashing of numerous cameras, a couple shouting out questions or beckoning them to look their way for a good shot. Bruce indulges in a few of the requests, stopping for a few seconds, before hurrying up the steps, his many children following just as quickly behind. Entering, they are greeted with a high vaulted ceiling with a singular ornate chandelier hanging down as the centerpiece and a few other light fixtures to highlight the entrance.

Despite the initial grandeur, the charity gala is relaxed. Formal casual wear was allowed and encouraged upon, which basically meant one didn’t need to come dressed like they were meeting the Queen of England and could come in simple slacks and dress shirt, and for this reason and this reason alone is how Bruce managed to convince six of his children to attend. No one liked galas. Well, no one except Duke who was highly fascinated with how the rich and prim lived compared to the grittiness of Wayne Manor.

As Alfred had lamented about, the Wayne family was late, perhaps an hour or so from the initial invitation arrival time, and all eyes were on them as they entered the banquet hall. Cocktail hour had just begun, and it was a matter of moments before a chorus of simpering, “Brucie! Over here!” began and Jason and Duke disappeared to look for the bar. Tim meandered off to find a few familiar faces, and Dick, Damian, and Cass were left standing near the entrance.

For a second, Dick regrets his decision not to force himself to eat one of the cucumber sandwiches Alfred had prepared as his stomach rolled around unpleasantly. His medication didn’t require a meal to be eaten with it, but again, he had been thrown off his normal routine and that usually included some food.

He feels a nudge into his side and glances over to where Cass is smirking at him.

“I know, I know,” Dick groans, slumping slightly. “Alfred warned us, but you know I don’t like cucumbers. I’m just- yeah, I’m just going to go find something that doesn’t look like old cheese. Either of you coming with me?”

He extends a hand pleasantly, bowing over and winking at both of his youngest brother and sister.

“Unlike you,” Damian drawls, absently checking his fingernails, “I took sound advice when it was given.” He glances upwards, eyes narrowing as he finds his target. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it would appear that Father is in need of assistance.”

Dick watches the youngest Wayne march astutely towards a struggling Bruce Wayne, broadcasting a small amount of distress as yet another slightly drunk (already?) woman leers at him through false lashes.

“Cass?” Dick asks hopefully, turning back towards her. “My most wonderful and elegant sister, will you come with me?” In truth, Dick was the tiniest bit hesitant to go over to the buffet style table by himself, no doubt going to be swarmed by the Gotham elite youth once he was alone and miserable once he took in the shallow presentation of foods.

But his dear sister is nothing but sweet and ruthless, smiling prettily at him before walking off in the other direction, most likely to find Jason and Duke at the bar. Cass didn’t like alcohol, but she knew how to order a Shirley Temple all the same.

With a sigh, Dick begins the trudge over to the long horderves table, snagging a flute of strong smelling champagne on the way. He didn’t really like champagne truthfully, more of a white wine kind of guy himself, but it gave off the impression that he was relaxed and confident even if he was mentally preparing himself for food disappointment. He’s right, well, Alfred is right, as his gaze travels mournfully over the plain and overly dressed finger foods. Was it really just that impossible to serve a nice plate of cheese and crackers with some fruit? What in the world was foie gras entier anyway?

A hand slides smoothly over his shoulder as Dick contemplates if the horderve is an organ or not, and he steadily turns his head to meet artfully decorated brown eyes.

“Well if it isn’t the elusive Richard Grayson,” the woman says, letting her hand fall from his shoulder to his elbow. “It’s been a while since I saw you at one of these.”

Another hand brushes against his shoulder, and he turns his head the other way to meet the eyes of the exact same woman on his other arm.

“Tristy is right,” the other, same?, woman coos. “It’s been too long, Richard. Tell me, where have you been? You haven’t been avoiding us, right?”

It finally clicks into place as Dick looks back and forth between the identical women. The Thoreau sisters. Identical twins. Heiresses to the Thoreau Parts manufacturing company. Their entire net worth was close to five hundred million and the sisters were notorious, perhaps even more so than “Brucie Wanye”, for bringing home exploits and one night stands.

“Good evening ladies,” Dick says simply, dialing back the charm he usually reserved for the elderly elite of Gotham. “It’s been awhile since I last came to one of these auctions, but tonight is for a good cause. Of course I would come.”

The two sisters titter lightly, hands flying up to cover their arched grins. “Oh yes,” maybe Tristy says. “The auction is surely going to be a smashing success. At least with a man like your father bidding tonight, and that man is nothing but generous.”

The sudden innuendos leave Dick feeling slightly off footed. It truly has been too long since he attended one of these galas, and he’s out of practice at maneuvering around seduction attempts such as these.

“Oh hush,” the other sister snaps, tapping Dick’s bicep twice to get his attention back to her. “Do you plan on bidding at all?” she asks charmingly. “My sister and I have our eyes on a sculpture by Vasconcelos and it would break our hearts if your father also had plans to bid for it.”

Dick shakes his head, bringing his flute of champagne upwards to take a sip. He decides he does not like the taste of carbonation. “No, I can’t say I have plans to bid on any one particular item tonight. However, I can promise you that Bruce has no plans to bid on any sculptures, so you will find no grievances with him I hope.”

“How gracious,” possibly Tristy practically moans, leaning into Dick’s side. “You know,” she whispers, eyes flicking back and forth in mirth, “If you’re not planning on bidding at all, there’s a private study somewhere. Once the bidding begins, we can just,” she leans in closer, practically licking Dick’s ear, “get out of here.”

A cold feeling begins to settle in Dick’s gut, his composure quickly melting away as he struggles to keep on a pleasant smile. Has it always been like this? When was the last time he actually attended a gala? He can’t remember being harassed like this, much less so soon. They just arrived and already someone’s trying to take him to bed. Is that all he looks good for? Why is it so hard to just have a normal conversation? This is supposed to be a family day, and yet here he is, separating himself from them all because he can’t control his cravings and really this harassment should’ve been expected because Gotham didn’t call Richard Grayson Bruce’s imprint because he had to get the “playboy” tendencies from somewhere if not genetics, so really he’s fine and just making a big deal out of nothing.

This was normal. Right.

Lost in his head, Dick realizes too late that it’s been far too long since he’s said something aloud. Tristy, or whoever it is that’s to his right, is frowning at him, a mean looking sneer adorning red lips. The other sister, he just doesn’t know her, is looking at him with something akin to disgust as well though slightly better hidden.

He clears his throat. Clears it again. His throat feels funny. “Look, ladies,” Dick says, “I’m flattered, I really am, but I’m not looking for anything right now. I’m sure you’re both lovely, but I think I’m going to… yeah, I’m just going to go find Bruce. You know how he gets when he’s had more than a couple glasses,” he tries to chuckle, tapering off when neither of the women join in. “Have a good evening.”

Extracting himself from their manicured hands is more difficult than he thought it would be, their insistence at keeping him cornered to the table making him more nervous. The ice in his stomach pinches unpleasantly, and Dick finishes off the champagne to place the little flute on a passing waiter’s stand.

The lingering stench of overpriced perfume has him feeling nauseous, and Dick looks around for one of his family members. He spots Jason and Duke still at the bar, seemingly content at just sipping and observing, and Dick makes the move to walk towards them when the room tilts slightly. He stumbles, hardly even that, and rights himself in less than a second. He looks down, frowning when he sees nothing that might’ve tripped him up.

“Richard,” a voice calls out, and Dick turns to see Damian making his way towards him, Bruce trailing slightly behind.

“Hey, Dami!” Dick gushes, his unease melting away at the familiar faces. “Meet anyone interesting yet?”

The boy huffs, crossing his arms. “If by interesting you mean intelligent, then no. Not a single person here is capable of holding a conversation before spouting some nonsense. It should be considered cruel.”

“I hear you there,” Dick sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Is it just him, or is the banquet hall extremely bright? The Bestout’s should consider investing less in chandeliers and more in good food. “Did any of the art pieces catch your interest?”

Another huff. “No,” Damian replies. “Modern art holds no value. I find nothing special about three dots in the center of a large canvas. If anything, it is a waste of material.”

“Bruce?” Dick asks. “What about you? I just ran into the Thoreau sisters; they said they were going to bid on that, uh, what was their name again… the Vasconcelos sculpture.”

Bruce grimaces at the company name, looking more closely at Dick. “No, nothing was to my taste. Alfred has asked me to bid on a tea set supposedly owned by Queen Anne. It is… vintage?”

Dick nods, willing himself not to laugh at Bruce’s idea of something vintage. “Nice. I’m sure Alfred will be excited to add it to his collection. Have, uh, any of you guys seen Tim or Cass at all?”

“Cain left,” Damian says simply. “Brown invaded the gala about ten minutes ago and coerced her into ditching. Drake is most likely stuffing himself into a corner.”

“Oh.”

A waiter walks by just then and Dick snags another champagne glass. He takes two sips, feeling some of his anxiety from earlier rise up again. Tonight was supposed to be a family night, or at least one as close to it as it could get, and already Cass had left? He doesn’t blame her for wanting to be with Steph, he remembers how infatuated he was in his first relationship, but he already felt the tell-tale tug in his heart that told him he was lonely.

“I’m going to go find Tim,” he announces, patting the top of Damian’s head and giving a squeeze to Bruce’s left shoulder. “Have fun you two.”

They wave him off with little else, and Dick looks around the hall for the middle child. As his gaze travels from table to table, he can’t help but feel as if all eyes are on him, catching his gaze with each flicker. Taking deep breaths, Dick takes another sip, meandering slowly around the perimeters of the already established social groups. He catches bits and pieces of conversations, most if not all having nothing to do with tonight’s auction, and Dick begins to tap his fingers restlessly against his outer thigh. Why does he feel so anxious?

Someone bumps into him rather rudely, causing Dick to stumble again, but when he turns around to semi-glare, there is no one around him. The lights in the hall are blinding and Dick can feel a headache begin to form at the front of his skull. His breaths are suddenly very loud and Dick becomes all too aware of just how many people there are. At least two hundred and all of them seemed to be staring at Dick.

Someone else brushes up behind him, and Dick quickly turns around to confront them, because come on, that’s not a nice thing to do. There is no one there though. No one was even near enough to touch him and Dick feels sweat begin to trickle down the back of his suit.

What was he doing again? Right, right, searching for Tim. Tim was always calm, he’s sure he’s got to be around here somewhere.

“Richard,” a voice sing-songs to him. “Oh, Kathy, he’s right over here. My, my, thought you could give us the slip, hm?”

His grip on the glass of champagne tightens slightly as one of the Thoreau sisters slithers her way in front of him. He didn’t want to talk to them. He wasn’t feeling well. They didn’t make him feel comfortable and Dick really needed to find Tim.

“You don’t look so good, Richy,” Tristy, Kathy, whoever, whispered. “Are you feeling alright? Had one too many to drink it looks like.”

The other sister laughs. “We only left you for twenty minutes. Missed us that terribly? How sweet.”

One of them grips his bicep again. Turns his chin so he’s facing her head on. The other one falls out of his line of sight. He thinks he’s seeing triple though because the twin in front of him is slowly separating into two, faces flickering back and forth and failing to align with the center.

“Maybe he’s tired,” she says, voice distorted and far away. “Finish that off and we’ll all go find somewhere to lay down, hm? Somewhere… private.”

The flute of alcohol is pressed gently into his lips and Dick automatically begins to drink from it, the liquid sliding down easily. It leaves a sour taste on his tongue, and huh, that’s weird. It didn’t taste like that before. He really does hate the taste of carbonation.

Hands on either side of him push him forward, his feet dragging and shoes all of a sudden much too big for his feet. The glass is taken from his trembling grip, a whisper of “Wouldn’t want you to drop that,” letting his decisions elude him. The smell of sharp chemicals assault his nose and Dick feels his stomach roll. He thinks he might vomit.

Even though he keeps his face to the floor, the bodies beside him guiding the way, Dick can feel the stares, the eyes, that bore into him. The pressure leaves his chest heavy, feeling as though he’s slowly sinking into the red carpet below. The red shifts and melts like wax beneath his polished shoes, pooling and coiling around his shoelaces and reaching towards his ankles.

It smells like blood.

The red turns into a dark gray suddenly, fuzz turning into slick tile and the hands that gripped onto his biceps earlier now trail towards the hemline of his pants. He jerks, neck craning upwards and hands fumbling to push the invasion away. He’s simply shushed though, hands restraining his own and Dick feels like he’s been shot when he realizes he can’t get his legs to move properly.

He’s shoved towards an open door way, tripping and falling over himself as any semblance of coordination leaves him. It’s brighter in this room but everything keeps swirling together. Vertigo slowly weaves its way around his head and soon, there is no difference from up and down, left and right, sister and sister.

Nails dig into the sides of his cheeks in a harsh and fervent grip, and Dick feels like throwing up when he sees nothing but the swirling vortex of a flesh colored void. It spins faster and faster and Dick has to look away, but the sight of himself in a mirror is no better because that has to be him that’s standing there pressed into a stone counter but at the same time it can’t because he left that all behind.

He left Spyral behind. He escaped. He was home. They couldn’t control him anymore and yet- and yet.

Another blank flesh void stares back at his turned head. No visible features to recognize himself by. A smooth canvas that twists and churns and leaves him faceless. He is nothing once more.

Something breaks inside of him and Dick feels a sob erupt from out of his chest. He’s just so confused and scared and lost and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He doesn’t want to go back to Spyral. His mission was completed, he had done everything Bruce asked of him and even after enduring throughout all of that, Dick feels that desperate yearning for his father.

He wants Bruce. He’s so scared. His head hurts. He can’t feel his legs anymore. Everything keeps colliding into everything and he can’t even recognize his own cries because even that sounds like it’s a lifetime away, all the way back in Gotham, but instead he’s stuck here and he doesn’t even know where here is anymore because Agent 37 isn’t allowed to ask questions, that’s not his place, that’s not his place, he’s not allowed-

“Wow,” a voice breathes into his ear, “you’re even pretty when you cry.”

And Dick doesn’t really know when it started raining, but his face is wet and the person is right, he is crying and it’s raining so hard and he doesn’t completely understand why or how but he does know he doesn’t like the hands that keep fumbling with his belt. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want her. He should say something. He should say something, but his mouth won’t move and he just lays there and takes it because that’s all he’s good for right? That’s why Barbara didn’t want to see him anymore because he’s just an awful person that just takes it and please, please, please stop.

“Are you afraid of spiders, Richard?”

Of course he’s afraid. He’s terrified. He’s even more afraid of the dark and the dark contains many, many scary things. Things like a calloused hand reaching out to smother him, to choke him, to kill him. Things like a bright red pill shoved into his mouth, things like a bomb attached to his heart, things like the heat of the metal on his back as the chaos consumed him, destined to watch, destined to die, destined to be smothered over and over again. Bright red pill. Rough hands. Bright red lips. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Dick vomits.

~oOo~

“Mister Wayne?”

Bruce looks up from his phone, a smartly dressed waitress staring at him. “Yes?”

She holds out a folded napkin to him and Bruce takes it from her hesitantly. He stares at it before glancing back up. “I don’t understand.”

The woman gives him a half-hearted shrug. “I was only told to give it to you, sir. I don’t know what it is. Excuse me.”

With that, the waitress turns back around into the throng of people that wave her over for drinks. Bruce looks down at the napkin, putting away his phone quickly as he unfolds it. It’s a note, hastily written in smudged black, similar to a crayon. Perhaps some sort of makeup applicator. Bruce doesn’t give it much thought though as he reads,

Find your son.

And isn’t that a great way to get his heart to stop? His first instinct is to look wildly about and start dashing around in search of his, holy shit, five sons he brought along to the gala. Bruce stops though, forces himself to take three deep breaths and count to five, before calmly beginning to make his way to the entrance of the banquet hall. It was easier to see everyone from that position and it was crowded enough so that he wouldn’t immediately be singled out once again.

As he walks, he stares at the napkin note, trying to decipher who exactly sent it. It was a woman’s hand writing, he’s sure of it, but the intentions behind it could be anything. Ransom? A threat? A simple warning that one of his sons was much too drunk to care about public decency? Either way, being passed an anonymous note wasn’t good and Bruce felt his gut clench in apprehension. He tries to think of everything that’s happened throughout the night so far.

Damian had remained mostly by his side, a good defense to have on hand whenever one of the socialites got a bit too grabby. Jason and Duke had remained a pair by the bar from what he'd heard, challenging other young adults into dart games and shot pyramids. Tim had steadily been making his way through old friends, chatting with a few and periodically texting Bruce to ask what the bidding was at.

(Alfred will be happy to know that he now had one more tea set to add to his collection)

And Dick… well, Bruce honestly hadn’t been keeping secure tabs on him. He’s trying to be a better father to adult Dick Grayson. Privacy and space had been something Dick had last emphasized on, the “mother-henning” as Dick liked to call it, overbearing and un-welcomed. When his eldest had mentioned his run in with the Thoreau sisters, Bruce had been concerned and looked for signs that his son was uncomfortable or something worse. As usual though, Dick had merely grinned and carried on like it was nothing and perhaps that was all it had been at the time but now with this note, this damn napkin note in his hands, Bruce could feel the suspicion slide into him like water.

“Father?”

A hand tugs on his right sleeve and Bruce finds himself sighing in relief as his youngest appears in front of him. Scrutinizing his son, Bruce finds nothing obviously wrong with him, hair still perfectly in place and a permanent frown etched upon his brow. His suit is still stain, spill, and wrinkle free and Bruce clasps a heavy hand onto Damian’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asks, keeping eye contact.

“Of course,” is Damian’s curt reply. “What happened?”

Wordlessly, Bruce hands over the napkin to him, watching as his son’s frown deepens. “I shall gather Todd and Thomas. I will return shortly.”

Damian’s small figure disappears into the crowd easily, leaving Bruce standing by himself at the front of the hall. Pulling out his phone again, he quickly types out, Come to the front of the hall. Urgent, and sends it to Tim. He types out the same message and sends it to Dick as well and contends himself for the wait by tapping his foot against the red carpet.

A minute barely passes before he spots Jason’s broad figure moving through the crowd, and the tension in his gut only increases as he counts the heads moving towards him. One, two, three, four…

“What’s going on?” Duke asks as the four boys gather closely. “Are we, uh, needed?”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Damian showed you the note?”

“What note?” Tim demands. “Bruce, what’s going on? Is something- oh,” he trails off, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as he reads the scribbled napkin. Tim turns his gaze to begin counting, and the same realization dawns upon him as he finally looks at Bruce’s grim face. “Where’s Dick?”

“I’ll call him,” Jason is quick to offer, pulling out his cellphone. He dials and holds it to his ear as the rest of the family watches. “Voicemail,” he grimaces, staring down at the device as if it had personally offended him.

“We’ll split up. Jason, you’re with me. Duke, Tim, Damian, you three will go towards the east end, Jason and I will take west. Keep your phones on,” Bruce orders, checking his own ringer as he does so. “Ask around to see if anyone has seen Dick. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, so remain cautious. Understood?”

A chorus of “yes” is the motivator for the split and like liquid, they flow back into the crowd seamlessly.

~oOo~

He’s alone.

Or, Dick thinks he is. Well, now that he’s thought about it, Agent 37 is never alone. There’s always someone there, watching him, waiting for him to fail. But Nightwing works alone in Bludhaven. He’s discovered that he doesn’t like team ups much. Partnerships always end in the rain and he doesn’t like the rain. He doesn’t mind it so much when Batman’s cape is shielding his face but the rain is still pelting his cheeks and it smells like acid.

It smells like acid and metal. It sounds like endless whirring too, constant noise when all he wants right now is quiet. He wants to reach out and smother whatever it is that’s making the noise but his limbs are gone, he can’t move, he’s been restrained once again and that damn red pill, or maybe it’s tinted yellow this time, he can’t be sure, there are just so many pills, so many pills, it’s all keeping him down and dead.

He feels his stomach convulsing again and he gags, unsure if anything actually comes out. There’s red on the floor, it always comes back to red, why red, and it gathers around in his vision, slick along the white void below him. A part of Dick is glad he can’t move because he fears that if he were to even breathe, the void below would capture him and turn him white and twist his nothingness into something even less than all of it.

His lungs stutter and his eyes roll back into his head for a moment. For a brief second, he is gone in the bliss of blackness. It’s not for long though because the need to cough erupts out of him and he has to open his eyes and see what plague is clawing its way from his mouth. His jerking disturbs the void and Dick can feel the blood in his veins freeze because he’s not supposed to move. He’s not supposed to make a single sound or else it would get him but he’s just so dumb, he’s just so incompetent, and now the void knows he’s here, now the void is going to get him and he’s so scared.

He blinks four times. He counts in his head. Two, five, one, two. Dick doesn’t think that’s right. He isn’t sure.

The void is angry though. He can tell in the way the ground shakes and the colors scream at him. He wants to move away and cover his ears but his arms don’t exist anymore, how could he forget, how could he forget, and he feels his eyes burning like he’s on fire and his brain is also screaming at him now and there are hands on his shoulders and no, no, stop, please stop, he doesn’t want this, he never wanted any of this. He’s sorry. He’s sorry.

The void grasps him and pulls at him and Dick’s eyes are wide open and he wants to scream at the void’s face because he doesn’t know who they are, he doesn’t know where he is, and there’s no comfort in the cold, there’s no love or warmth in it’s embrace and he’s so tired and his chest hurts and he’s having trouble actually seeing anything now because he’s just scared of the dark and everything is getting quieter and doesn’t anyone have a nightlight he can use so he can fall asleep a little less scared?

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Bruce doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting when that waitress handed him a napkin. He doesn’t really know what he wanted to happen when he asked his children to split up and search for the lost one. Of course, the goal was to find the eldest, find Dick Grayson safe and sound and just doing something silly like back flips off a stairwell so Bruce could come and save him from embarrassing himself further. Okay, yes, Bruce knows exactly what he wanted to happen.

But this wasn’t it.

It wasn’t Mister Dower slyly implying that Bruce’s eldest son was a clone of “Brucie Wayne’s” habits. It wasn’t the news that the Thoreau sisters had left in a hurry. It wasn’t a bellboy directing him to a private room that had been left ajar. And it wasn’t walking into a pitch black study only to hear wet retching and rattling from the adjoining bathroom.

He’s bursting through the door before he’s had the time to process it all and he feels as if all the wind in his lungs have been knocked out because there he is. Here is Dick Grayson, his son, his eldest, convulsing, bleeding, vomiting, shaking, dying, alone.

It’s second nature, done without a thought, and Bruce is kneeling down, stripping himself of his jacket and folding it, taking Dick by the shoulders and turning him on his side and placing the folded jacket beneath his head. Dick’s eyes are rolling, unseeing, and his face twitches and jerks and it’s terrifying, and Bruce looks away to stare at his watch and counts and counts and counts.

It’s scarcely thirty seconds before the jerking stops and Dick goes stiff, like every single muscle in his body is clenched in anticipation.

“Bruce,” Jason begins, and he sounds unsure and out of place and Bruce curses at himself for having momentarily forgotten about him, “Holy shit.”

Bruce says nothing and continues to stare at his watch because he knows the seizure isn’t over, he prays it is but he knows it’s not, and Dick begins to convulse again and Bruce’s heart is beating so fast he isn’t sure if he can feel it anymore.

“The others are on their way,” Jason speaks up again. “I’m calling 911. What should I tell them?”

And usually Bruce is faster than this, better at processing, but it’s all so sudden and this is his son that’s laying in front of him, shaking and heaving in front of him, that it takes him a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Tell them,” he tries, mouth dry and god how much longer is this going to last? “Tell them that we need police and an ambulance for,” Bruce clears his throat; two minutes now, five becomes dangerous, “A possible assault and drug overdose.”

There’s lipstick smeared on Dick’s collar, his tie is undone, his belt buckle unclasped, pink indents on the sides of his jaw, lips tinted blue, and a mess of vomit splattered down his shirt. It smells sour and pungent and it’s the color of old brandy. Blood weeps from Dick’s hairline and Bruce startles himself with the thought that, had it not been for the note, Dick could’ve died and no one would have known.

No one would have known.

Finally the seizure stops and Bruce can feel his fingers trembling as he cradles his son’s head to fully rest against the tile flooring. Three minutes and fifteen seconds. Too close. Too close.

“Move! I demand to see Richard!”

“You can’t, not right now. Bruce is helping him but you have to stay out here.”

“Jason, what the hell happened to Dick?”

“Bruce thinks he got roofied. Whatever was given to him was too much.”

“Did… did anything happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Todd, I swear to you, if you do not move this instant-”

Bruce can’t focus on their conversation anymore, too entranced by the way his son breathes. They’re short, shallow gasps, like he’s panting through a straw, and Bruce reaches out a hand to rub his eldest’s upper back. He doesn’t move from his position, kneeled firmly as if in prayer, and maybe it is like a prayer because he needs a miracle right now. Bruce needs some guidance, some reassurance, and he hasn’t prayed since his parents died, but a little part of him is sighing and repeating those long forgotten words over and over again.

Abraham, Issac, and Jacob; Sarah, Rebekkah, Leah, and Rachel.

Dick does not stir from where he lays, eyes flickering behind closed lids. Bruce thinks he’s conscious, the flighty rhythm of his heart giving his blankness away, but the stillness in which his son lays allows a vine of terror to eclipse around his heart.

Grant him a r’fu-ah sh’lei-mah, a complete recovery.

His mother used to whisper prayers into his ear when he was younger and sick, fever-ridden constantly and just so tired. She would sit by his bedside, hold his hand, and pray for him in the silence of his room. Bruce was too young to understand what it meant. Too young to really grasp the concept of salvation, of hope found in religion. Now that he’s gone so long without it, Bruce thinks he still doesn’t grasp its weight, but the familiar words roll around in his head and leave the tightness in his chest with company.

But the comfort is like a blanket draped over your head when you were a child, on some level convinced it could protect you from the monsters in your closet and the kidnappers that surely tap on your window. The monsters are real though, the kidnappers are grabbing at your feet, and Bruce can feel his heart pounding away with the realization that he truly could have lost Dick. That Bruce had been in the exact same room, in the same vicinity as his eldest when he was drugged. When he was… assaulted. Possibly. Maybe. Bruce clings to those uncertainties.

And he’s got ideas. Theories. Conclusions. A list of suspects.

With those, Bruce also has punishments in mind. Vengeance. Retribution. But the situation at hand is more pressing than the thoughts that bang against his skull.

Dick’s eyes fly open, a cough that sounds more like a gag jerking his body. His arms stagger against his sides, feet kicking out with the force of his hacking, and Bruce merely lets his hands hover. He wants to touch him, to ground Dick, but the hesitation in his actions leave him barren of any sort of presence. Dick keeps coughing, getting louder and more forceful with each measly breath he manages to suck in, and his lips are beginning to turn blue and his face a bright red and Bruce doesn’t know what to do right now, doesn’t know how to help because he’s so afraid to touch him, to help him, when all he’s done tonight is ignore him and let this whole thing happen because he’s a horrible father-

“Richard, stop it!”

And then Damian is falling to his knees beside Dick’s heaving body, also fumbling for an answer and scared and all the things Bruce feels right now.

“Stop it, Richard! Stop it right now!” Damian demands, but his orders fall on deaf ears because Dick won’t stop coughing and gasping and shaking and he’s not having another seizure but that’s what it looks like and then finally, Bruce reaches out a hand and holds his eldest still, willing for something, anything, to happen to get Dick to stop.

“Son,” he implores, practically begging, “Dick, you need to calm down, okay? I know you’re scared and confused right now, but everything is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Take a deep breath, Dick. Breathe.”

Finally, something seems to register for Dick because he’s craning his neck around, eyes wide and searching even as he continues to retch out his lungs. Bright blue eyes, beautiful and robin egg blue, catch Damian’s and Bruce can see recognition light up onto his face. The relief that Bruce had felt blossoming in his chest at the sight is quickly smothered when tears gather in Dick’s eyes, a weak sob wrenching its way in between coughs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dick moans, delirious and broken. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“Richard, breathe,” is all Damian says, reaching out to grab at one of Dick’s flailing hands. “Please.”

Bruce doesn’t know if Dick actually understood what Damian was saying, or if he even recognized any one of his brothers that stood around him, but one moment, Dick is retching up a lung, and the next, he’s silent and holding his breath. The coughing stops but Dick is going slightly purple in the face and before Bruce, Damian, anyone can do anything to get him to open his mouth again, Dick’s eyes roll up into the back of his head and he drifts.

His head thuds softly onto the white tile just as the paramedics arrive and Bruce thinks he might need an ambulance too with how quickly his heart beats and how hot the blood in his veins feel.

The rest is a blur.

~oOo~

Many things happen in the few hours that follow.

Dick is promptly swept away on a stretcher, paramedics checking pulse count, setting up an IV, and other things that anyone hardly has the mind to pay attention to. By then, the entire banquet knew something was wrong, along with a few reporters that whipped out their cameras and began snapping pictures in earnest.

In a move that is sure to get him on the front pages, Bruce snarls at a few of the reporters, threatening them in mannerisms that suggested he might just break their obnoxious cameras. Jason follows a similar pattern, actually reaching over and knocking away one of the invasive reporters when they got too close to the ambulance, and the youngest is not far off in doing the same before he is ushered away and into a waiting private car that would escort them to the hospital Dick was being taken to.

Only Bruce had been allowed to ride in the ambulance on the way over, and the four brothers had sat in tense silence during the ten minute drive. Tim had been almost absurdly quiet during the entire ordeal, typing away at his phone and absently chewing on one of his fingernails. No one comments on the bad habit, all of them guilty of doing something in a similar fashion, and when they arrive at the entrance, Bruce meets them there where he tells them that, for now, Dick appears to be mostly fine.

His vomit and blood were being tested at the moment for a tox-screening, a toxicologist named Dr.Ruth informing them that Dick wasn’t in life-threatening danger anymore. The “anymore” bit startles them all and it is explained to them that, because Dick appeared to have eaten nothing that night and drank nothing but champagne, there was little else in his system to digest whatever drug was given to him. It all went straight into his nervous system, which is what caused the seizure.

Bruce manages to secure a larger medical room for all five of them to squeeze into and forty minutes later, Dr.Ruth returns with a clipboard in tow. Results are in.

“Mister Wayne,” she begins, making sure to keep an even gaze with the older man, “You said you believed that Richard may have been purposely drugged tonight?”

Bruce nods.

“Is Richard taking any drugs right now? Recreational or otherwise?”

The implication sends a strange stab of anger through Bruce, rising up from his seat to challenge the doctor about her accusations. “Richard has never-”

“Actually,” Tim interrupts, finally speaking, “he does.”

Bruce looks over, shock peppering his face through the way his mouth twitches and his jaw clenches.

Tim rushes to defend himself. “No, wait, what I mean is that Richard takes a prescription. He’s not doing, like, hard crack or something like that.” He holds up his phone as if it contains every single answer to life. “Cass- our sister- told me that Richard didn’t take his anxiety medication this morning. He took it before going to the banquet tonight.”

“Do you know what he was prescribed?” Dr.Ruth asks, scanning through something on one of the papers.

Tim checks his phone again. “Uh, Zoloft. 40 milligrams once a day.”

“Okay,” she hums to herself, satisfied with the answer. “That explains it then.”

She clicks her pen, setting down her clipboard and turning to face all five of them in the room. “Richard’s screening came back just a few minutes ago, but there were a few discrepancies that didn’t match up exactly. From what the labs tested, Richard was given a dosage of about 250 milligrams of ketamine, on which he overdosed, but an additional drug was also found in his blood and from what you said, young man, it would appear to be Zoloft. That medication, in addition to not eating anything and consuming some alcohol, was what caused such a bad reaction.”

She glances behind her again, checking her clipboard. “Now, Mister Wayne,” she addresses Bruce, “In your witness statement, you said that Richard appeared to be having hallucinations?”

“I don’t believe he knew we were there with him.”

Dr.Ruth nods. “Victims of large overdoses on ketamine typically experience hallucinations, similar to a bad LSD trip or otherwise. Sight and sound become warped and the person under the influence often doesn’t understand what’s going on around them.”

“What about,” Duke begins, nervous and quiet, “What about the, um, the other test? Did- Is Dick okay?”

The doctor smiles, happy to give fortunate news. “Yes, the test results came back negative. Other than a few scratch marks on his face which have been cleaned, Richard is fine.”

A collective breath releases over the room. Dick was going to be okay.

“Once the nurses have finished checking your son over, you’re free to take him home,” Dr.Ruth finishes, collecting her things. “Someone will be with you shortly to escort you to him.”

“Wait,” Jason calls out, “That’s it? You’re just going to send him away?”

The doctor looks back at him, sympathy lining her sad smile. “Well, there’s not much else we can do. Keep an eye on him, make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and try to give Richard some dry foods. If anything happens or Richard’s condition worsens at all, please bring him back and we’ll do what we can.”

And with that, Dr.Ruth opens the door and leaves.

~oOo~

The nurses tell them that Dick needs to stay for an additional hour or so, just until he’s coherent enough to answer some well-being questions and to finish the IV bags they’ve given him. All five of them have managed to cram themselves into Dick’s small room, the man in question awake but quiet. He’s coherent enough that he seems to recognize them all individually, and no longer seems to be hallucinating, but he wears a grimace that tells of discomfort. Dick has yet to say anything since waking up.

His eyes are distant, staring listlessly towards the ceiling and trailing from light to light. Bruce is sure the action is somewhat painful, but he doesn’t make a move to distract his son from whatever he’s thinking.

It’s been a long night, for all of them really, but none as long as the night Dick Grayson has had. Bruce is told that Dick spoke in private with one of the nurses and an assisting officer about some of the things that happened during the banquet. Bruce doesn’t pry though. He knows better than to go sticking his nose into something so fresh, something so invasive. He trusts that Dick will speak when he’s ready.

Whenever that is.

There’s a knock at the door before Dr.Ruth walks in again, hands folded neatly in front of her as she enters. There’s no clipboard with her and a lightness in her posture is telling of good news.

“You’re all clear,” she says warmly, stepping up closely to Dick’s cot. “I just need you to sign some release forms and you’ll be on your way. Do you have any questions for me?”

She directs the question towards Dick, whose gaze travels slowly over to the doctor. He licks his lips twice before asking, “What do I need to do after I leave?”

“Hydrate,” she answers, mentally going through a checklist. “Lots of fluids. The charcoal is going to absorb a fair amount of liquid in your system, so keep an eye out for water consumption and bowel movements.”

“What… what about medication?”

She frowns at that, lips pulling down slightly. “Well,” she starts, “I would suggest keeping away from them for the next twenty-four hours. Are you in pain? Do you feel like you need something for it?”

Dick is quick to shake his head. It jostles him and he closes his eyes briefly, be it from pain or disorientation is something indiscernible. “No, no. Not hurt or anything. I take some, uh, prescriptions though. From my psychiatrist. Everyday.”

“I see.” Dr.Ruth is quiet for a moment before, “Try to wait as long as possible. If you absolutely need to, go ahead and take them but be careful. You won’t be in any serious danger but it’s always better to be cautious after an overdose.” She turns to Bruce then. “He’ll need to be somewhat monitored over the next few days. It’s not very common, but symptoms can linger.”

After another pause in which no one speaks up, Dr.Ruth smiles and bows her head slightly. “I’ll have someone bring those papers by soon. Tell one of the nurses if you’re having trouble walking, Richard, and we can get a wheelchair brought to you. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

No one continues to make a sound as Bruce fills out the paperwork, insisting that a wheelchair be brought when Dick only manages to take a few steps before his legs begin to shake. Dick makes no comment on it, only half-heartedly glaring at Bruce as he sat down heavily into the plastic seat. The walk out of the hospital is quiet too, Duke along the way muttering that he was going back to his cousin’s place for the night. Alfred meets the remaining boys at the front, leaning forwards to bring Dick into a small hug before releasing him and helping Dick get into the car he brought.

When Damian hands Dick a water bottle, Dick accepts it silently, lightly patting his little brother’s hand before taking a singular sip from the bottle. He doesn’t drink from it again.

When they arrive at the Manor, Jason is the first one moving and is quick to pull out the ramp they have for when Barbara visits. Dick is tense as they roll him into the Manor, finally putting his foot down when Bruce suggests that one of them carry him up to his bedroom. It’s a slow process and it twists Bruce’s heart in a way he can’t quite describe as he watches his eldest struggle up the flight of stairs, using both the railing and Damian as meager supports.

Dick pushes open the door to his dark room and makes no comment when everyone follows him in. He all but collapses onto his bed, exhausted. They all just simply breathe for a minute, taking the time to truly process everything that’s happened that night. Somewhere in the Manor, a bell tolls and the electric clock on Dick’s nightstand reads two in the morning. They’re all still in their suits, still in their tight dress shoes, and nothing seems quite real yet. The black out curtains are clasped together tightly, as if their belief in maintaining the illusion and reality of darkness is all that’s keeping the peace.

Damian is the first one to move this time, peeling off his jacket and kicking off his shoes to sit beside Dick’s sprawled form. They don’t exchange words, but Dick shifts and allows Damian to get closer, a hand reaching up to finally destroy the carefully combed locks of hair, stiff with gel and pomade. Dick sighs and this release is what prompts the others to move as well, Jason plopping himself at the foot of the bed to lean against one of the banisters, Tim choosing to sit on the floor and rest his head against the side of the bed frame, and Bruce pulling a chair closer to be within reaching distance of Dick.

It’s quiet, calm, and the proximity is just enough to be reassuring. Comforting in a way that doesn’t demand physical touch but soothing enough to provide warmth. It’s nice.

Dick speaks first. It’s an apology.

“I wanted this to be a family night, you know?” he confesses into the stillness. “I didn’t mean for… any of this to happen.”

“We know, Dick,” Tim says, equally as quiet. “It wasn’t your fault.”

There is no response to that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks, voice gruff but kind. Gentle in a way that betrays his outward appearance.

“I don’t know,” Dick says. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” is all Jason responds, easy and light. The dark hides many secrets. He will not be the one to unearth them.

It goes back to silence after that and soon enough, Dick’s breaths are even and his eyes are closed. Slowly, the boys disappear one by one back to their rooms, allowing themselves to recover as well from the experience. Damian falls asleep by Dick’s side and Bruce tenderly picks him up, cradling the boy’s head onto his shoulder, and carrying him to his own room.

When Bruce returns, Dick is sitting up and staring at him. He’s nervous. Bruce takes a deep breath in for his own nerves and sits back down into the seat. They stare at each other for a long time, the eye contact neither uncomfortable nor helpful. It’s a waiting game, one that doesn’t need to happen, and Bruce breathes in again.

“How are you, son?” he asks, gaze heavy as he takes in Dick’s haggard appearance. The hospital had given him a scrub shirt to replace the one he had thrown up on and the texture crinkles as Dick shifts in place. His eyes go back to wandering around, drifting from Bruce’s face to the comforter around his legs.

“I’m tired,” Dick whispers, hands flexing and clenching. “And a little freaked out,” he adds, eyes flickering to Bruce’s and then darting away again. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful. I… I messed up.”

Bruce sighs, slowly and deliberately telegraphing his movements as he reaches out to place a hand over Dick’s fidgeting one. Dick is still tense, hand clenching into a fist as Bruce just lets the warmth of his palm linger.

“You did nothing wrong,” Bruce begins. Pauses. Backtracks. “Everything that happened tonight wasn’t your fault. Whoever did this… that’s their fault. That’s their doing. Not yours. Never yours.”

“How did you find me?” Dick asks, deflecting. He’s always been good at that.

“I was given a note.” The napkin had been taken away as evidence earlier. The phantom hot weight of it still burns a hole in Bruce’s coat pocket. “It told me to find you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Pause. “I’m glad they did though. I was… worried. Worried of what had happened to you. Dick, look at me please.”

Instantly, Dick’s eyes snap to his and again, Bruce’s heart twists in a way he can’t describe. Sadness? Resentment? Melancholy? Regret? He doesn’t know.

“I’m sorry I let that happen to you,” he says firmly, reaching out with both hands to grasp at Dick’s. He grips them tightly, holding them together like they’re praying. This is now twice in over a decade. “I am so sorry, Dick. I wasn’t there when you needed me, but I’m trying to be better. I want to be a better father to you, son. You mean more to me than you will ever know and the thought of losing you scares me.”

Dick nods sharply, once, twice, and his face falls into apathy as he processes what Bruce has said. He doesn’t reach out to hold Bruce’s hands as well, but the fact that he hasn’t removed them is enough to reassure Bruce that he’s doing at least one thing right.

“It,” Dick says, voice barely a whisper, “It scares me too. Losing you. Losing anyone. Dying.”

He swallows audibly and sweat trickles down his brow. Bruce wants to insist that Dick go back to sleep or at least drink some more water, but he refrains from doing so, too afraid to remove his hands lest he lose Dick all over again.

“When I was...” Dick trails off, swallowing again. “While I was hallucinating,” he restarts, “I saw, no, uh, I thought I saw a lot of things.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, buddy,” Bruce reminds him, tapping his index across Dick’s knuckles. “It can wait.”

Dick shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m okay.” His voice cracks slightly as he says that. Bruce ignores it and Dick seems grateful.

“I thought I was dying again,” he rushes out, as if to force the words before he can take it back. “All these bad things, things from the past that I didn’t want to remember, were suddenly all happening again and I-I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where I was, what was happening, who I was with half the time, and I couldn’t move, Bruce. I couldn’t move and it all just happened.

They wouldn’t stop touching me and it scared me. I was terrified and then suddenly I was alone and I really thought I had died. I thought that I had died and then Damian was there and-and I thought he had died again and I couldn’t, couldn’t handle that, Bruce.”

“Dick, breathe. Breathe. Damian is safe. You’re safe. Breathe in for me, buddy, that’s it. You’re okay. I promise.”

Dick nods again as if trying to convince himself that he’s safe now. That he’s home and everything is okay and there are no ghostly hands that cover and touch him. He tries, but he’s tired. The fear rests idle and Dick can feel it scratching at his throat. It’s been six hours hours since everything happened. Only six.

“I think the worst part,” Dick admits, strained and hushed, “was that I was alone.”

Bruce squeezes his son’s hands together, the pressure meant to be grounding. “I’m sorry,” he says, meaning it with everything he has.

Dick only shrugs his shoulders, a shuddering breath escaping him. He looks at his father’s hands, the gnarled knuckles and thin white scars that grasp his own destroyed fingers. The contrast of the touch compared to the appearance is comforting in a way that reminds Dick of their early days as Batman and Robin. Before Nightwing. Before Agent 37. Before everything else. It is a testament to their struggles, their crooked fingers and half formed nails from broken bones and relentless pursuit. Their hands hold the weight of a thousand punishments, twice more punches, and countless conflicts and battles.

Their hands are the evidence of their survival though. Their victories against death.

Two thin stitches that hold together the cut just below his hairline are another piece of the evidence. Another testimony to Dick’s endeavor for endurance against the odds. There will be a pink scar to commemorate tonight, and in a year or so, there will be nothing left but a faint white line.

Tomorrow, Dick will wake up, eat breakfast, and carry on about his day. It will be normal because it has to be. There is no other way to move forward, and Dick will swallow his pills with the same grimace and remembrance of hot metal and red lips. Maybe in a week, he’ll tell his therapist about tonight and they’ll suggest another coping strategy that Dick’s already tried but he’ll try again because he has to.

For now though, in the silence of his childhood room, decorated with pictures of the circus and framed photos of his found family, with black out curtains that never move to let the light of day peer through and a noisy vent that sometimes drips from condensation; for now, Dick can indulge in his fears and his worries as Bruce holds his hands.

There will be police reports, prosecutions, scandals, interviews, testimonies, and so much more later. Right now though. Right now, Dick lets himself breathe and accept the fact that things aren’t fine and that he needs help. Dick lets himself squeeze his father’s hands and blink away tears, finding relief in their hold.

He’s not okay, but tomorrow he will be. He has to be.

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memes-in-a-half-shell · 3 years

Text

Business AU - Working Late, Part 4

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Flirt mode A C T I V A T E D 👏

As everyone else in the room was getting ready to depart for the day - chatting here and there and gathering their belongings - Vee was mostly occupied by her handbag, making sure everything was there before she would leave the place. She did not hear when someone approached her, but she next felt the poke of an object to her right shoulder.

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad earlier,” started Donatello’s voice. “But I truly do think we’re connected somehow now.”

She looked at him, first noticing that he had been poking her with a cardboard file folder, and then she took a good look at his clothes. Purple. AT LEAST not the same shade. He was wearing a fitting v-neck sweater of a dark purple color, with a white shirt and a black tie underneath, his looks completed with dark charcoal pants and black shoes.

“... You’ve got to be kidding me,” started Vee with a stifled laugh. “Why are we like this?”

“I’m not superstitious, but maybe it’s destiny. We were meant to work together,” he winked. “Great minds think alike!”

Vee couldn’t hide her smile, next prompting him to get on the move for their dinner. She first expected them to walk out of the building and head to a subway station, but she was surprised to see the turtle head towards the indoor parking lot of the building.

“Wait, you want us to go by car?” she asked, her heels clacking rapidly on the tiled floor as she caught up to him.

“Why not? It’ll be quieter that way! I don’t feel like dealing with crowds in the subway anyway.”

She had to give him that, at least. A car would smell better than a subway train... As they made their way through the lot, she noticed Donnie getting out keys, the woman commenting:

“Huh, I thought you’d have a chauffeur or something like that.”

“Why, because I’m rich?” asked the mutant, amused. “I like driving, so I don’t see why I would leave all that fun to someone else.”

He pressed a button on a small remote attached to a key, which prompted a black SUV nearby to flash its light.

Vee was most certainly impressed by his taste, first observing the vehicle until she noticed the other opening the passenger door for her.

“The lady may take her seat.”

As she took place, her eyes scanned the interior.

The major difference she could notice from any other cars was how the driver seat was rearranged a bit further back, allowing space for the mutant’s shell most probably. As Donnie took place next, Vee couldn’t help her question:

“Is this car completely custom made?”

The other smirked: “If it was, it’d be way cooler. ... Nah for this I only had a Genesis GV80 model slightly modified to accomodate my form. I like the look of it and I don’t need something too extravagant to go around on the streets.”

“ ‘Don’t need something too extravagant’,” quoted the woman. “You do realize that you have an expensive car?”

“Remind me to show you my brother Mikey’s cars,” added Donnie, then starting the car’s ignition. “Then we can talk back about what’s expensive.”

As soon as the vehicle was brought to life, music was heard, being none other than Dio’s “Better In The Dark” track. The turtle rapidly fumbled to turn it down, his eyes widening.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for that,” he said once silence was back.

“... Are you kidding? You shouldn’t apologize for listening to Dio!” reassured Vee. “That guy frickin’ rocks!”

The terrapin smirked: “Ah, a woman of good taste! You keep on getting better and better.”

Vee couldn’t help her smile in return, the pair then finally getting on the move.

***

Donnie had to park his SUV on a quiet street, the duo next walking towards their destination; New York’s Little Italy. The evening was already laying its shadows in the sky, but the streets were bright and colorful, the warmth in the air of the incoming summer days an absolute delight. A light conversation was held as they were walking, until Vee was abruptly stopped by almost falling due to one of her heels stumbling into a small crack in the sidewalk. She was first surprised by how fast Donnie had been to catching her, a small laugh escaping her. To feel his touch around her, his strength, all she could hear was her heart drumming in her ears. They continued their path, Vee’s arm hooked to Donatello’s. It simply felt like a dream at that point...

They finally arrived to the place; a small rustic looking restaurant that had been hiding from the bigger crowd’s broad sight. There were few patrons inside, the ambiance calm and somehow giving a “feels like home” kind of vibe. Donnie seemed to know the place well, only quickly waving to the staff and already going for a table. It was a nice little corner with a table large enough so they could lay down their paperwork. Being a complete gentleman, the mutant was quick to draw a chair for Vee to sit on, waiting until she was seated properly before settling down across the table. A waiter was already at their disposition, Donnie already asking for a bottle of white wine, interjecting some Italian words in the bunch and ending with a “grazie mille”, to Vee’s surprise.

“You speak Italian?” she asked as the waiter was walking away.

“Non molti, ma un po' sì (Not a lot, but a little bit yes),” he answered. “Still learning, but I’m getting there.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“I’ve tried to start learning Japanese alongside my brother Leonardo, but I’m not as proficient as him so far. I’ve also started French.”

Vee couldn’t help herself: “Donc, si je parle dans ma langue maternelle, tu devrais comprendre? (So, if I speak in my native tongue, you should understand?)”

Donnie froze for a moment, soon ruminating the words and showing a smile.

“Un peu (a bit),” he said. “But I feel like I need to practice a little more.” He did not skip a beat when adding: “I don’t know why, but I think a French Canadian’s accent sounds way more interesting than metropolitan French. There’s a certain flair to it, I can’t really explain...”

Vee was most certainly amused: “Try going into any rural parts of Québec, then you’ll feel like you’re speaking to aliens or something. Our French is unique, sometimes butchered, but it is nice indeed.” She did a small shrug. “I could help you practice, if you want.”

Their wine arrived, their glasses filled and the bottle left at their table. Donnie took his glass, pensively rolling the drink in his hand.

“You keep on giving, miss Vee, and I’ll soon feel cheap. First you’re helping me for the Lowline, now you’re proposing to help me with my French. ... My oh my, mademoiselle, I’ll have a debt to repay once again.”

“Let’s start by actually getting something for dinner,” added the woman, lifting the menu to her face in order to hide her blush. “It’ll give me time to think about if I need your help with something. What’s good in here?”

It was so hard to act casual...

“Their pastas are the best, but I’ll have to say that their tiramisu is to die for - I’m definitely grabbing one of those at the end.”

As the evening went along, Vee was finally starting to feel more at ease. The food was delicious, the wine delectable, and the company absolutely charming. They took some time to review the folder Donnie had brought along, talking about the project’s restrictions and demands. It was simple enough thus far, some ideas already boiling in the woman’s mind. Maybe the wine was kicking in, but she didn’t even flinch when her hand brushed the turtle’s over some papers. Her body language was screaming interest, lightly hunched over the table, actively listening to him and her smile tender. She couldn’t quite explain this attraction she felt. All she knew was that Donnie had this aura surrounding him; a welcoming and calm presence that made her feel safe and relaxed. His humor was subtle and his additions to a conversation well-placed. He was a man of many words and of a vast knowledge, although gladly giving the spotlight to any soul speaking, always listening with great interest. Vee could only admit that she wanted to learn more about him.

***

The dinner over, the pair headed back to the SUV, Donnie at least insisting that he could drop Vee to her place. How could she say no to a sweet smile such as his, anyway? The address handed, the ride went on smoothly in a comfortable silence, the woman glancing at the many lights outside - not even noticing that the terrapin would sometimes glance her way and feel this lovesick knot in his chest...

As he parked nearby her apartment building, he did not hesitate to get out as well, at least considering it good etiquette to escort her to the entrance.

“I hope I didn’t make it harder for you by cramming all that information in your face?” he said as they were talking, arms hooked again.

Vee shook her head, amused: “Absolutely not. It has given me ideas, in fact.”

“Good, good.”

As they stopped by the main door, they paused, their hooked arms transitioning into a longing, yet subtle touch of their hands. Vee finally moved her hand away, her blush faint as she removed a small strand of hair from her face.

“... This was nice, thank you,” she said. “Not the habitual work meetup I’m used to, but this was good for a change.”

Donnie quickly cleared his throat, retrieving his thoughts.

“Of course! It was quite pleasant, indeed. ... It’s not often that I get such enjoyable company.”

“You’re sweet, thank you.”

There it was, that silence as they both crossed gaze. That moment of unspeakable words and uncertain actions... The mutant sweetly smiled, breaking that moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. ... Goodnight, Vee.”

“Goodnight, Donnie.” She felt like she could breathe again...

Yet, as she saw the other walk away, she added:

“Donnie!”

He turned back.

“I think I know how you can repay me for the French lessons,” she continued. “... How about another evening together? Not work related this time.”

Joy lightened up the turtle’s features, definitely agreeing: “Absolutely!”

And just like that, the night felt even better.

((Part 5))

#it's-a-moi #business au #man oh man oh man oh maannnn I already have some scenes planned #I'M SO PUMPED BY THIS #it's short and straight to the point - mama likes that #and of course the usual apology is there are some errors here and there #my brain is poo tonight #**if there are #SEE I MAKE ERRORS EVEN IN MY TAGS

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lavenderclearwater · 2 years

Text

Organic

Nico walked into his apartment and dropped his heavy backpack next to the door, not bothering to put it in its proper place. The smell of food cooking told him that Will must have taken the rest of the day off of work. The kitchen was a bit of a mess, brown grocery bags on the counter as well as utensils and ingredients that were being currently used. It was rare for them to both be home at the same time so early in the afternoon and even rarer would they have the opportunity or energy to enjoy a home-cooked meal together.

Will had graduated a year ago and got a job at a local hospital as a nurse while he was still taking classes to become an Anthropologist. He can't complain too much though, it was as normal of a life that they could hope for being demigods. Whatever Will was cooking, it smelled fantastic. If he hadn't followed through with his skills as a healer, then he probably would have ended up being a professional chef. He was so focused on the task at hand, he hadn't noticed that Nico was home yet. He decided instead of giving himself away, he would enjoy the view just for a little bit longer.

Will always looked so at peace when he was cooking, probably having to do with how it was a love that he and his mother shared ever since he was a child. It was only after meeting his mother a couple of months into their relationship that he realized that he may look just like his father but he acted so similarly to his mother. Will finally noticed his presence when he turned around to grab something off the counter.

He smiled, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Just short enough where it isn't creepy."

He rolled his eyes at Nico's little joke and went up to him for a quick kiss. They have been dating for four years and living together for two but he still turned bright pink every time he kissed him.

"How was class?" Will asked, deciding to not tease him about how it was still so easy to fluster him.

"Mind-numbing as usual. I don't see why I have to learn all of this stuff when I can literally just ask the body what happened."

"Because it is wrong to abuse your powers like that. And you can't exactly put that on your resume," he was already moving back into the kitchen while Nico went straight for the couch.

"What are you making for dinner?"

"Chicken tacos. I saw the recipe online, thought I’d try it out.”

Another thing about his boyfriend was that he was a total health nut. It was probably a byproduct of being a nurse and being raised on healthy food. However, he was the exact opposite. Before they got together, he was living on microwaveable meals and junk food. He also had a crazy sweet tooth and was known for always having some kind of candy in his backpack. To say that Will freaked when he found all of this out would be a major understatement. Ever since he has been dedicated to getting him to eat better, which meant he tried lots of recipes that he found online.

Some of them were good, others still made him nauseous from the very thought of them. Either way, he promised Will that he would try everything at least once. While he was busy fixing up the tacos, Nico set the table for the two of them. His plate had two tacos on it, stuffed with chicken, sour cream, and spinach.

"They should be good. They had great reviews on the website, plus they’re organic."

"Doesn't that mean it's expensive and tastes bad," he asked when he thought back to what Leo told him some time ago.

"It means that is good for you. Now hurry up and take a bite, I want to hear what you think."

He cautiously took a bite of the taco, praying to Hades that it won't be a repeat of the tofu nuggets incident all over again. Fortunately for him and their bathroom, it was delicious. So much so, that he just kept on eating.

"I'm guessing you like them," he laughed a little as he watched him tear the tacos apart.

They finished their food and started to clean up the kitchen. Since he cooked, Nico decided that it was only fair if he did the dishes, but Will refused to let him do them alone.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804191/chapters/70640589

Which led to this question, "Does organic come in cupcake form?"

#PJO #Fanfiction #Nico Di Angelo/Will Solace #Solangelo #Fluff #Crack #AO3

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guiltysecretpasttime · 3 years

Text

Parapraxis

Note: So this was inspired by @peachchanvidel’s post and partially by that one-scene in Brooklyn nine-nine. Hope you like this :)

Linzin AU, one-shot

Parapraxis: a lapse of memory or mental error, such as a slip of the tongue or misplacement of an object, which, in psychoanalytic theory, is due to unconscious associations and motives; commonly called a “freudian slip.”

---

If Lin Beifong were to look back at her life, she would think that some spirit was having a laugh at her expense – more than enough for her to wonder whether she had a past life that angered one of them.

---

The Dragon Flats Strangler had finally been caught and so the residents of the borough (and the police) could breathe a little easier now.

Chief Beifong tapped the report with her glasses, satisfied with the paperwork submitted. The sunlight was hitting her desk straight on, a signal that it was definitely later into the day and that she had not budged one bit since she sat down after lunch break.

She folded her glasses and placed it in its case. The pile of reports waiting on her desk signified that reviews and approvals were in her next hours. It was time to grab some coffee.

The police chief exited her room, seeing that everyone was working diligently on whatever assignments they had that week. None of that fake pencil pushing here in headquarters.

On her way to the pantry, she saw the Avatar nosily bothering Mako, who was, to his credit, shooing her away. Based on previous encounters with them, Lin supposed Korra was trying to wheedle the firebender into another double date with her and Asami, another blind date that the detective was adamantly against.

She decided to interrupt for the benefit of the firebender who was looking miserably at the pile of paperwork on his desk that the Avatar had been riffling through, likely looking for a piece of paper to write the details of the date on.

“Detective!” Chief Beifong approached the pair; Mako suddenly sitting up straight and Korra leaned back in her seat, waving weakly. “Good job on the paperwork on the Dragon Flats Strangler.” She frowned at Korra who was reaching over Mako’s desk to grab his pen. “I’d expect all of your files to be submitted with the same level of meticulousness and detail.”

Mako slapped away Korra’s hand. “Of course, Mom.” He answered distractedly.

Chief Beifong froze as did the Avatar – and everyone within hearing radius.

The detective managed to get his pen from the loose grip of Korra and proceeded to work on his next report.

Korra cleared her throat to get his attention, throwing a glance at Lin then placing an elbow on top of Mako’s paperwork.

“What?” Mako growled irritably.

“You called Chief Beifong Mom.”

Lin saw a brief look of panic on Mako’s face before it turned stoic again. “You must have misheard.”

“No, you did.” One of the other rookies from two desks to Mako’s right piped up.

Korra pointed at the man, nodding. “See, thank you!”

“No,” Mako emphasized but was quickly paling. “I said, of course Chief.”

“They’re right – you called me Mom.” Lin slowly enunciated then pursed her lips. “Detective Mako, do you see me as a mother figure?”

“I-I-I-.” The firebender could only stammer, a far cry from the capable detective who could easily spout off details of a report without even reading off a copy of it.

Normally, she would feel amused, but she took pity on the young man. “Don’t worry about it,” She attempted to downplay it. “We could have a mentoring session if you’d like, one of these days?”

Mako looked like a cat deer caught in the headlights of a satomobile so Lin quickly retracted. "Only if you’d want to of course, the offer stands but it’s not mandatory -.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” The detective managed to bite out.

She nodded and quickly went her way to the pantry.

Chief Beifong figured, having one more rookie to mentor is not so bad.

---

“Higher, Dad, higher!”

The moment the words left her lips, Lin knew she messed up. She did not want to face Aunt Katara, who would likely pity reflected on her eyes. The earthbender just knew the older lady would be uttering the words “oh, sweetie” within the next few minutes, gently letting her down explaining that the airbender playing with her was not her father.

Lin knew that. It’s just – why can’t he be?

To the Avatar’s credit, he did not even bat an eyelash nor did he lose the rhythm of bouncing Lin up and down using an airball.

Before the waterbender could even remark on it, young Lin hollered quickly before she landed gracefully. “I know Uncle Aang’s not my dad – I just slipped, okay? Doesn’t mean anything!”

“Well,” Aang bent down throwing an arm around her and his airbending son, who was waiting patiently for his turn. “I wouldn’t mind being your dad. And after all, I could very well be your dad when you marry Tenzin here!” The airbender tightened his hold on the two children and brought them closer together.

“Ewww no!”

“Yuuuck!”

It would be a cold day in Si Wong desert before that would happen, Lin glared at the lanky airbender beside her.

Tenzin stuck out his tongue at her.

She rolled her eyes at him, stomping.

“Ow! No fair, Lin!”

Marry him? Of course not.

---

Lin twisted the cap of one of the many soju bottles she had stocked in her house.

She smiled with satisfaction at the crack that the cap made and poured herself a shot. She quickly threw it back, enjoying the subtle burn of the alcohol and making that pleased throat clearing sound after.

The earthbender placed one of her feet on her chair while another one dangled as she sat at her dining area. A variety of fried, greasy and fermented food that she bought earlier was spread on the table.

This was the kind of me time that she could get behind. No one to judge her as she indulged on alcohol and unhealthy snacks. It was, after all, a difficult day for her.

At least, as she picked at the sliced fermented radish and chewed pensively, she did not have to attend the wedding of the century. She was invited, of course, but it was obviously a courtesy invite. No doubt, Tenzin’s bride would not welcome her presence. So she gladly sent her regrets and mailed the RSVP note immediately without even second-guessing her herself.

She skewered a piece of grilled picken and dipped it in a sweet sauce.

The ceremony should be about finished at this time, she surmised as she took a bite of the meat. This would be followed by luncheon at the island and maybe a short program.

The metalbender took another shot.

Then later that night, there will be the fireworks, of course, sending off the last airbender and his bride.

Well, good riddance.

Lin had finished most of her food and was at her third bottle of soju. She was also at the middle of the book that she had impulsively purchased yesterday (fiction – she did appreciate the occasional escapism reading brought her) when her phone began to ring incessantly.

She decided to ignore it. Her officers could handle themselves for one day; she was sure there was not anything that would not keep until she was back. Anyway, her deputy was bound to be hammering on her door if there was something that urgently needed her attention.

For a few moments, the phone stopped ringing.

Thank Agni!

Then proceeded to ring again.

Lin groaned, she spoke too soon. Stretching herself from her perch in the dining room, she went to the living room to finally bark at whoever was at the other line for disrupting her day off.

“Beifong here – I swear if this is a salesman or you Saikhan I will -!”

“Lin!” The shrill voice cut through her reprimand.

Lin moved the phone away from her ear to stare at it, stunned.

“Lin? I know you’re there!”

It was Kya.

There was no reason for the sister of Tenzin to be calling her at this time.

“What is it?” She tamped down the irritation that the waterbender did not deserve from her.

“Have you heard the news – on the radio?” Kya’s words rushed forth. “Just wanted to give you a heads up – there’s bound to be something in the evening papers. The media would be keen to get your side as well – they’re having a field day! And -!”

“Kya! Kya!” Lin raised her voice to get a word in. “What are you talking about? I’ve given them my official statement for Tenzin’s wedding weeks ago.” She twirled the cord of the phone.

“Lin,” The earthbender recognized the strain in Kya’s voice. “Yes, it’s about the wedding but not in the context that you think.”

Lin paused in fiddling with the phone cord, sensing there was more to the story. “What happened in the wedding?”

“It’s Tenzin – he -!”

Donk-donk-donk! Donk-donk-donk!

Lin raised her head, hearing the loud pounding on the door. “Kya – is this important right now? Is it a security or safety issue?” The pounding on the door could only mean an emergency from headquarters.

“Well, no, but -.”

“Then it could wait.” Lin bit out harshly; if there was a life and death situation at the other side of the door, she could care less about Tenzin and his tacky wedding. “I’ll give you a call later.” She ended the call abruptly.

Donk-donk-donk-donk-donk-donk!

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Lin hurried to her front door, taking care not to trip over her own feet. She definitely needed to sober up before going on field. Without even checking who was behind the door, she pulled it open. “Saikhan! What is the emergency?”

Her eyes widened.

Flying fishopotamus.

Tenzin was standing there in his formal wedding garb, dripping under the rain. He was breathing heavily as though he had rushed in getting to her Republic City house. Judging by his glider which was sitting pitifully in the mud, Lin thought he probably did.

“What the flameo are you doing here?”

Her voice pulled the airbender from his stupor. “Lin.”

Lin inwardly shivered. The way he whispered her name was almost reverently. She shook her head; she must be drunk.

The man took a step forward, a hand extending towards her.

She stepped back. “What are you doing here – you shouldn’t be here – you’re married.”

Tenzin shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I am.”

***

“Repeat after me – I, Tenzin –.”

“I, Tenzin - .”

“Take you, Pema to be my wife, my partner in life and my true love.”

“Take you, Lin to be my wife, my partner in life and my true love.”

***

“What the -!” Lin let loose a string of curse words that would have earned her soap in her mouth had she uttered them within earshot of her Beifong grandparents.

Tenzin stood back, letting the rain and the wind batter him down.

“What were you thinking!” Lin clenched and unclenched her fist, visibly restraining herself from punching the airbender. “Think about how humiliated Pema is! Your family, her family! Tenzin – go back there and grovel! Pema…” She caught her breath. “She doesn’t deserve this.” The light in her eyes dimmed and the fight seemed to seep out of her.

“And that’s why I’m here – why it’s still you!” Tenzin’s wild eyes sought hers. “Even after everything,” His tone softened. “You still think about others. That’s how selfless you are and how selfish I am.” He wiped back some of the rainwater from his forehead. He inched closer slowly and hesitantly. “Even after everything, it’s still you.”

---

Chief Beifong extremely disliked doing press conferences. Given the choice, as illogical as it would have been, she would have done away with the press (something has to be said of freedom of the press and freedom of expression though so obviously the press needed to stay).

After the wedding of the century devolved into the faux pas of the century years ago, Lin did not have fond words for the press. They skewered Tenzin’s reputation and dissected their interactions over the past months of that year.

It took a few more years and several scandals of prominent members of the nobility for their relationship (or lack thereof) to fade from public interest.

Ironically, it was during this period that they started to become closer (with a lot of work and effort from Tenzin, of course and Lin still vacillating between taking him back or not).

The media circus a rabbit hole she dare not get into again, so she better make sure that her speech is flawless.

She shuddered involuntarily as she reviewed her speech, head bent and hands rubbing her temples. She nodded at the staff who were silently hurrying around, making sure all of the microphones were set correctly and the chairs and tables were available for all attendees.

The press conference today was about the opening of the cultural center in Republic City. The council would be there to give their opening remarks and she would speak in her capacity as Chief of Police regarding how the area would be secured.

After all, the cultural center was situated in a reclaimed area which used to be lorded over by triads. It was up to the police force to ensure that no crime or act of terrorism befalls the center and its opening in order to encourage more investors into Republic City.

From her peripheral view, Tenzin’s robes swept close as he sat himself beside her at the conference table set up for them.

She paid him no mind as she ran her finger on the figures in the packet she was reviewing.

“Seems like a huge crowd will be joining the press conference today.” The airbender arranged his own set of papers as he commented on the people who was starting to gather in the venue.

The metalbender gave a soft grunt in reply.

“By the way, thanks for doing this Lin.” Tenzin shifted in his seat. “I know you could have easily sent a representative to speak for the Police Headquarters.” He murmured softly, inching his head closer to her. “And, personally, I appreciate your presence. You know how much this means to me, it’s a chance to show case my mother’s heritage.”

Lin inclined her head and responded vaguely. “Of course Tenzin, you know I love you so I’ll do what I can to support you fully.” She tapped her pen on her speech and encircled a split infinitive. She would need to proofread a little bit better next time.

She felt a warm hand grasp her wrist; she finally looked up at her seatmate. “What?”

Tenzin’s eyes were suspiciously watery.

Lin became conscious with how whispers were increasing in volume. She raised an eyebrow at the airbender in askance.

Tenzin bit his lip, swallowing before tentatively covering her hand with his.

What was he doing? Why was he doing this in public?

Her thoughts were running all over the place. It was not like Tenzin to be bold or even indiscreet.

“Tenzin.” She hissed.

“You just said you love me.”

“I…” Lin went back to what she did say, realizing belatedly that she did. “I guess I did.”

The whispers were definitely louder this time.

Tenzin gripped her hand tighter; his other hand gesturing forward.

Her heart skipped a beat.

A microphone had been placed on their table for sound check without her noticing it.

Her declaration had been heard in the entire hall.

---

Lin Beifong swirled the wine in her glass, silently observing the people weave in and out of the dance floor.

Say what you want of the damn convict, Varrick truly knew how to throw a party.

She reflected on her life so far.

As much as she had emphatically refused to have children, Lin woke up one day realizing that, without meaning to, she had inadvertently taken in several teenagers under her wing. Thank the Spirits that Mako, the one mostly with her, was someone after her own cranky taciturn disposition.

And, despite her steadfast refusal in her youth, in front of the man’s father, she looked at the ring that adorned her finger for decades, Lin found herself wed to Tenzin.

Something has to be said about slips of the tongue, of the unconscious. When you feel strongly about someone or something, it was bound to slip right out – the truth escaping the barriers that the mind has built.

If this was how the spirits feel like treating her after all those mortifying moments, Lin Beifong decided that she was not one to complain.

After all, Lin contemplated with wonder as she looked at the spirit portals across the island with her husband landing a soft kiss on her forehead, unplanned and spontaneous words come up with the best results.

#linzin #linzin fanfic #lin beifong #tenzin #legend of korra fanfic #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina completed

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chibinekochan · 3 years

Text

How to become a Demon Ruler 108

Part: 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I

GN. Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of this lesson goes smoothly, but I'm glad it's over.

I glance nervously at Barbatos, who is correcting my work. It looks like he makes countless corrections.

I feel sweat building up along my spine.

"You did very well for your first lesson. Just go over the corrections until lunch, and you will be fine." Barbatos hands me the stack of papers back.

"I thought you would say some more since you corrected so much." I feel relieved but also a bit unsure of how to take this.

"Most of my corrections were minor mistakes in the language, but I can not hold these against you since you have just arrived here. I was prepared for more grave mistakes, to be honest. You once again surpassed my expectations." Barbatos smiles at me, slightly proudly.

I start to wonder if his expectations for me are just remarkably low but take the compliment regardless.

I review the corrections, and then it's finally time to eat.

Lunch is delicious as always.

"I have some good news for you. I have talked with Lucifer, and he agreed to let you meet one of his brothers. I think it would be best for you to speak with one of them before the party. The brother you will meet is Mammon. He is the 2nd most powerful brother. Mammon is the Avatar of greed." Diavolo sounds excited about the news.

"That sounds interesting. When will I meet him?" I generally wonder how other demons are. Maybe this will be helpful for me.

"In the evening. I know it's short notice, but I hope you are okay with that." Diavolo looks a bit guilty.

"That's fine for me. It's not like I had other plans." I simply shrug.

"I'm glad to see that you are so lively." Barbatos smiles as always.

"Will I need to dress something nice for him?" I don't want to make a bad expression.

"You are perfect as you are." Diavolo smiles brightly. I slightly wonder what he will say when I'm dressed nicely.

"I agree with that sentiment. Besides, Mammon is a rather casual demon himself." Barbatos nods and casually continues to clean the table.

"Alright, I will just stay as I am then. What is my next lesson?" I just want to start it, so it can be over.

"You are very motivated today. Lord Diavolo should take you as an example." Barbatos smiles and makes a snide comment.

"I will return to my work." Diavolo looks a bit beaten.

Barbatos nods in agreement.

"Now regarding your lesson. We will practice your table manners, and then I will squeeze a bit more politics in before you meet Mammon." Barbatos seems very used to juggle my schedule around.

This doesn't sound too bad. "So are we going to stay here?"

"Indeed. We will practice the proper tea ceremony and how to act at a party." Barbatos then proceeds to prepare the table once again.

He is very effective that is certain.

"Have fun with your lesson." Diavolo sounds a bit dejected.

"I hope your work will be easy." I smile at Diavolo. After seeing his workload, I feel much compassion towards him.

Diavolo lights up at my words. "With this wish, it can only be easy."

With that Diavolo leaves.

"I will show you how to hold the cup." Barbatos lifts the tea with a few elegant movements and then proceeds to drink it.

It's very impressive. I feel propelled to applaud him but stop myself.

I try to emulate his movements, but it's way harder than it looks.

Barbatos sees me struggling and then takes my hand, which still holds the cup.

He then slightly corrects my fingers. "Like this master," Barbatos whispers into my ear, which sends shivers down my spine.

My heart starts to hammer in my ears, he is way too close.

Then Barbatos backs up. I let out a small breath. This was a close call.

This repeats a few times during my practice. It's very bad for my heart.

The lesson is technically easy, but I'm very glad when we are back to boring politics and history.

After the end of the lesson, I feel slightly unsure. "What kind of person is Mammon?"

"You should just meet him with an open mind and don't give him money." Barbatos doesn't seem to want to influence me.

Even when the last part strikes me as odd. I just take it as solid advice and Diavolo said he is the avatar of greed.

With mixed feelings, I go and meet Mammon.

Barbatos leaves me alone with the guest. I assume he just wants to give me space.

Mammon has already made himself comfortable.

"Hello, I assume you have been told about me by your big brother?" I greet him slightly awkwardly.

"Umm yeah. It honestly is a huge surprise to everyone. Like a human being adopted by the demon king? Talk about weird. We kinda assumed you were like a toddler or something. So I'm kinda relieved to see that's not the case." Mammon seems indeed very casual.

This makes me feel great relief. "Yeah, it was a big surprise to me as well. I'm still getting used to everything but Diavolo and Barbatos doing their best to make me feel at home."

"How did that adoption even happen? It just came out of nowhere to everyone." Mammon is pretty blunt with his questions, but I prefer that to be sneaky.

"I have no idea why the demon King chose me. He just kinda used his powers to summon me into his castle and told me that he is now my father." I'm unsure if it's smart to tell the story like this, but somehow I feel like I can tell Mammon.

Mammon is seemingly surprised by this information. "Wait, he kidnapped you didn't he?"

"I suppose you can say that. I can't really complain though since living here is pretty great. I mean the training is hard, but the food is great." I just shrug and take a sip of tea.

"You are tougher than you look. I'd be going bonkers if it be me. I mean being trained to be the future demon ruler? Doesn't sound like it's fun." Mammon closes his eyes and nods.

"Well, it's not all bad. I get treated to good food and Diavolo and Barbatos are both so nice. I kinda feel like at home already." I give him a small smile.

"I got a hard time imagining Barbatos being all nice. He is pretty scary, to be honest." Mammon makes a strange face. It looks like he is remembering something unpleasant.

"Hmm, I guess how he smiles all the time can be a bit unsettling." I somehow have a hard time picturing Barbatos being scary. Especially to another powerful demon.

"Yeah, but I have seen him angry and that is very scary. Still, I wonder why they choose you. No offense but you look pretty normal to me. Are you some kind of magic prodigy?" Mammon shudders and changes the topic.

"That is a good question. I have never felt magical if that makes any sense. The other day my magic was measured and the device broke but no idea what that might mean." I ponder over the question for a moment.

Suddenly Mammon gets very pale. "Umm well, actually that might be my fault. You see that thing looked kinda valuable. I just kinda umm took a closer look at it and accidentally dropped it. It looked fine but well…" Mammon sighs deeply. Then he suddenly panics. "Oh, wait, please don't say this to anyone. They will kill me!" He looks at me with pleading puppy eyes.

This is honestly of no big concern to me, but at least it explains the black smoke. Then I have an idea. "I won't tell anyone but in exchange, I want some information about your brothers."

This is the perfect opportunity for me to gain some valuable Intel. I have to increase my odds of survival.

Mammon seems to be very troubled. "Look I want to survive, but I can't sell my brothers out you know."

"That's not what I mean. You see the demon king wants me to show him that I am worthy of the throne. I have to make a good impression at the party or else he might kill me. I just need some info, so I can gain some points from your brothers." I give him my straight and honest reasons.

"Ah, I see. So some basics about what they like will be enough, right?" Mammon gets my point right away.

"Yes, that would be great Mammon." I smile at him.

Mammon nods. "Okay. So Lucifer likes classical music and expensive stuff. He has the tastes of an old man to be honest. Don't tell him you got that from me, though."

I nod and take mental notes. "That sounds easy enough. I'm sure Diavolo would know what Lucifer wants anyway. It kinda sounded like they are close."

"Close is an understatement. They are like a married couple or something." Mammon shrugs.

Somehow these words sting. "Wait, don't tell me that they are a couple?"

"Not as far as I know. They are just kinda all hush and act high and mighty." Mammon shakes his head.

I need to ask Barbatos about this later.

"Hmm, I see. So the next brother?"

"That would be me. The great Mammon. I like cars and brand products. So don't try to cheap sell me!" Mammon boasts loudly.

"You will be happy with whatever I get you." I quickly shoot him down.

"Aww come on!" He pouts.

"Sorry, but I have a lot of people to consider and don't forget that you broke a very expensive magical device." I give him a slight smirk.

"Pretty mean of you." Mammon huffs, he is like a small child. I somehow feel a bit bad.

"I will find you something nice okay?"

"You better…" This seems to satisfy him. "Well moving on. Next up we have Levi. He is the avatar of envy. He loves anime and games. Levi is an Otaku as you humans would say."

This also seems very easy. "Alright, I probably have some games I could give him."

"After that comes Satan. He is the avatar of wrath. Satan likes books and cats. He also hates Lucifer. Then we have Asmo. He likes clothes and beauty products. He is the avatar of lust, but he might as well be the avatar of vain. Not only that, but he also likes to party with me. Next is Beel, he is the avatar of gluttony. As you can guess he loves food. He is also into sports. Last we got Belphie. He is Beel’s twin and all he does is sleep. I mean he is the avatar of sloth. Oh, yeah, I think he liked stars. That's pretty much it." Mammon lists everyone up.

This is very helpful. "Wow, they all have very basic interests. Thank you very much for your help." I smile and have already some ideas ready.

"Well, I suppose they do have basic interests, but what did you expect?" Mammon shrugs.

"No clue, something eccentric? Don't get me wrong I'm happy with this. At least I will have something to talk to them about." I'm honestly just glad that I don't need to learn about some strange stuff.

"I think they are pretty eccentric but whatever." Mammon shrugs without care.

"Thank you very much for the help Mammon. I'm sorry that I blackmailed you." I feel a bit guilty at least.

"It's fine, I get it. I would do the same in your situation. I'm just glad that you won't tell anyone." Mammon doesn't seem to see any issues.

"You are very nice for a demon. I mean I have no idea about demons, to be honest." I'm not sure if he gets what I mean.

"Well, I'm the great Mammon so of course, I'm great." He laughs and blushes just a little.

I shake my head. "I mean all of this is still pretty crazy to me, so it's nice to see that you are so relaxed."

"You have it pretty rough hm? Well, I will give you my number, so you can call me when ya need someone to talk to." Mammon wraps his concern into doing me a big favor.

"That is very nice of you. I think you will be my first proper friend in the devildom." I give him an honest and grateful smile.

Mammon looks away, obviously embarrassed. "Don't just say things like that." He mumbles and gives me his number.

This meeting goes way better than I expected. I'm very pleased.

_______________________

Im sure you all are happy to see at least one of the brothers before the party.

#how to become a demon ruler #demon ruler 101 #obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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thebadbatch · 3 years

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The Bad Batch: Soft Universe

Chapter Two - Attempt.

Morning soon arrived, the time reasonably early overall as several members of The Bad Batch were beginning to wake up. Tech awoke rather easily, rubbing his eyes to get rid of any blurriness and began to prepare for landing which he had hoped would be soon, they were low on rations at this point. Once each member had fully awoken, putting their well known armour on, Omega bounded into the room with her usual burst of energy.

"Good morning!" She gleamed, Standing beside Echo who just Placed a box of Supplies Cid had Sent them to collect on their Previous Mission. It was a lot of blaster fire and close calls just for Some Supply Crates. Echo grinned at her usual Sparks of Morning energy, grateful they had her to keep morale up.

"Morning, Omega." He returned, gently shuffling the supply crate to join the pile of them that Wrecker had just put down. They were all filled with a variety of items, Some crates holding What Tech discovered to be unknown weapons and others filled with a Variety of bottles filled with a liquid Tech couldn't figure out without opening them- a risk they didn't really want to take.

"Ah, Miss Omega." Tech began, moving over toward her.

"Morning Tech!"

"Oh, yes. Good Morning." He jumbled, going through his datapad after a quick and warm smile he was known to share with his little sister. "Anyway, Hunter informed me that you wished to discover your enhanced Skill, if you have one that is." She gazed at him with rather confident and hopeful eyes as She rested her arms crossed against her chest. "Is that correct?"

"Indeed it's correct!" She Spoke, her words misplaced within a clear attempt to copy Techs rather advanced language Skills.

"Indeed, that is correct is the correct Sentence Structure. But good shot." He praised, moving to guide their Ship toward the correct Planet. A softer nod came from Tech before Echo sat upon on One of the crates before his voice joined the conversation,

"Isn't it a little early to discover your enhanced Skill?" Hunter noted the worry in Echo's voice, knowing that he really didn't want her to become a soldier and fight through chaos and wars like they had to. None of them wanted her to! They all wished to Spoil Omega with everything that She had ever wanted and give her a Sheltered and loving life. However, this was all very late due to what happened to Kamino and the fact that there were two confirmed bounty hunters after her. Besides, they had to teach her ways to protect herself in the worst case scenario that nobody was with her to guard her against the harsh universe that routinely seemed to have something against the little family aboard the Havoc Marauder.

"It'll be okay Echo, it'll take some time anyway." Hunter's voice reasoned, a hesitant nod of agreement coming from his brother's soft whispers toward him. Wrecker laughed, going toward Omega and picking her up to place her on his shoulder.

"Kid, that's going to be awesome! I bet it's something really cool like me!" His enthusiasm and usual supporting words always brightened up their omega, a laugh coming from her as she settled on his shoulder. They were closer to Ord Mantell, the planet they were growing more and more used to each visit which led to everybody Putting on their Signature red and black helmets. Crosshair grumbled at everybody's curiosity and their hesitancy to find her enhanced skill or to unlock it as such.

"Hopefully it's something helpful." That familiar sour tone returned to his voice, making Omega Shy away a little - still unused to his sarcasm and dramatic seeming personality, she knew it was his coping Mechanism though, they all had one. Though her being used to it and understanding didn't mean it didn't make her think about his words. She was close with him for sure, like last night for an example. He does care, but his guard is always up to keep him Safe She presumed.

The others along with Omega ran past his remark with a little glare from Hunter for his choice of words before Techs voice piped up.

"I Suggest you take your seats, we're about to land." Hunter took a Seat beside him as the others took their usual Seats, finally ready for the day ahead of them. Havoc Marauder landed well, not Sustaining a Single Scratch due to Techs excellent flying Skills - if he did say So himself anyway. The land around them felt familiar, filled with bustling city Streets and a Variety of neon Coloured lights Shining amongst the early sunrise coating the sky with a vivid tango blast. Luckily, this planet was a lot softer on Hunters Senses, compared to the planet they did their last mission on especially.

"Alright, wrecker take the biggest two." Hunter began his leadership Skills activating. " Me, echo, crosshair and Tech will bring the remaining Crates." Everyone nodded in agreement as the large door opened, everybody taking their newly assigned roles and bringing the Crates down, even if it was a little tough to carry compared to Wrecker who was doing so with ease.

"What can I do?" A persistent voice questioned, Omega gazing around seeing if there were any other crates they had forgotten. The bad batch were always thankful for Omega's willingness to help out, but due to her being untrained, having limited Strength and being a child, there wasn't much She could do this time. Telling her to just walk with them wasn't an option though, She gets Pretty upset when they don't need her help. An argument was something they wished to avoid.

"Uhm," Hunter mumbled, the ship closing behind them all as they slowly began to walk toward the hidden bar Cid lingered within, desperately awaiting their now evenly cut Share of credits thanks to Omega Paying off their debt with gambling. Probably an issue they'd have to review later in her life after Tech reviewed the Possibility of her developing a gambling addiction being pretty high. "Why don't you help me carry this crate?" He continued, being cut off from saying anything further as Omega rushed over, helping to lift the heavy crate with a rather ecstatic;

"Yes sir!" Hunter just chuckled, ensuring that nearly all the weight was against his arms as She walked alongside him, both hands holding it up. The rest of the walk was rather silent, warning off any Suspicious looking Civilian with unknown glares and a hidden gesture to his blaster.

"Why is everybody so interested in what we have?" Echo mumbled, a little irritated at the seventh person getting a little too close to them. "They're never usually bothered."

"Maybe it's because five clones are carrying Six crates filled with something heavy." Crosshair rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. "You've got to be stupid to assume these aren't worth a good amount of credits." His brother rolled his eyes, still feeling a strange sense of tension and uncertainty.

"We've brought back bigger and more expensive loot, that's what made me ask." Echo's voice was laced with annoyance as they began to place the crates at the entrance to cids office. Omega gazed around, still liking the energetic atmosphere in the room which seemed to match her own upbeat rhythm.

"I was wondering when you losers would show up." A familiar voice grumbled, Walking into view.

"Cid!" Omega shouted, a clear Smile on her face as they Shared a short hug.

"Heya Tiny, tough Mission?" She asked, ruffling the younger girl's hair.

"There was blaster fire everywhere when we finally got to them!" Omega's voice was strangely filled with enthusiasm as She spoke, "There were Super loud alarms but we managed to set a diversion!" Hunter sighed a little, rubbing his ache-free head feeling a twinge of sympathetic pain for himself due to yesterday's chaos.

"Once again, an insufficient amount of detail was retrieved from you." Tech intertwined his words with their conversation, a little irritated that he didn't disable the traps prepared for them on the mission by those who stood arrogantly in their way. Not that they were tough to deal with or anything -the traps that is, not the larger droids that threatened them.

"When do we ever get detailed information?" Crosshair complained, ensuring his sniper still stood proudly against his back untrustworthy to the people gazing over at them all. He began to understand Echos previous worry, wondering whether or not he should hold his Sniper up front or just get rid of them. Tough day to day choices required the most moral answer no matter how much Crosshair disagreed. Cid laughed, opening her office door and waving at them all to come in with the crates. Once they had all finally lunged the crates in, Hunter threw his arms on the desk.

"Our Credits?" He asked with both Omega and Wrecker bouncing a little, eagerly awaiting the go ahead for their Mantell mix. Cid nodded, sitting calmly at her desk and retrieving the two small black boxes where their credits were held.

"Calm down Bandanna," The others stifled a laugh, "You've got double your usual amount Since your kid there paid off your debt." Hunter nodded as he gazed over at Omega, thanking her once more with a small Smile that resulted in Omega practically a beacon of pride.

"Thanks kid, you did great." Echo reminded, patting her head in a form of praise. Hunter opened the two boxes, pleased at the sight of plenty of credits laying there prepared to be spent rather rapidly.

"Brilliant!" Tech smiled before typing into his data pad, retrieving some information. "This will easily Cover our supply run for fuel, food, any necessary repairs, clothes and anything else we may need."

"It's about time we made some decent Credits." Crosshair Spoke before Standing. "Are we going then?"

Hunter nodded before thanking Cid for their finally justified payment.

"Echo and Crosshair Come with me, we can grab food and spare clothes." Both stood, Standing beside Hunter. "Tech, Omega and Wrecker you can grab the Mantell Mix you wanted and assist Tech in grabbing any tools for repairs."

"Yes sir!" Omega smiled, saluting her other brothers before practically dragging a gleeful looking Wrecker along with her and a tired looking Tech. They'd all turned their separate ways but they all ensured that they remained within the same neighbourhood for safety reasons. "What shall we do first?" She asked, holding Wreckers hand among the busy Street as she gazed toward Tech for an answer.

"Well, I believe that the most appropriate course of action would be to collect...collect the repairs first?" His voice trailed off as he saw a rather upset gaze from Wrecker followed by a rumble from Omega's stomach. "I mean I think It's most appropriate to get your end of the mission reward now due to the correct timing. Do you agree, Miss Omega?" Tech lied through his teeth, they couldn't supply breakfast for the Poor girl this morning so to tide her over until Hunter and the others returned, it was the least he could do. Besides, it would keep them both quiet and entertained whilst he viewed repair items. It was something he was very much looking forward to doing as per usual.

"I agree!"

"Heck yeah! Let's go, kid!" Wrecker gently guided them along the path before finally reaching the stall filled with boxes of the Sweet treat. "One box, Please." Wrecker asked, retrieving credits from Tech and passing them to the Seller in return for the purple-toned treat. Both couldn't contain their excitement as they began to dig in, omega taking a smaller handful then wrecker but it was seemingly pretty big to her. Both members shared a nod and a big grin, eating their treat with a feeling of satisfaction. The last mission was a tough and irritating one, but it's all completed and they're all alive. The treat became a sort of reassurance for little Omega, knowing that whenever she felt the sweet taste - they were all safe for another day. Tech smiled gently before pointing toward the marketplace stall filled with various tool kits with loose bolts and parts scattered around.

"I believe our next stop is over here, shall we?" They all walked over, watching as Tech picked up various amounts of tools, explaining in very clear detail what each part was for and why they may or will need it at a later date. Omega was truly fascinated but Wrecker was losing his patience a little but smiled a little at her well structured questions much to Techs joy.

"Can't you just buy something already?" Wrecker asked, noting the seller's patience was wearing thin, her arms crossed as she stared at them both pretty closely.

"I suppose so." Tech replied, grabbing a few more tools with Wreckers help. "Wait here Omega while we pay." She gave a Sound of affirmation, her mouth filled with the sweet preventing her from saying anything further. Once they walked further up to discuss prices she had turned her head toward a cloaked-being Staring her way. She could only really make out from this prescience the emerald eyes that were staring into her own along with an unsettled feeling about them laying wary against her heart. Despite all of her alarms ringing in her mind, she gave a quick smile and wave before wiping her mouth with her sleeve, ridding of any purple crumbs. Her eyes darted toward her two brothers who were arguing amongst themselves over why they needed to spend the credits on something Wrecker believed to be so useless. Of course, Tech had covered the conversation earlier but Wrecker wasn't really interested at the time due to the attention span of a youngling. Once her eyes flickered back toward the Suspicious figure, her underlying fears were instantly confirmed as they took rapid steps toward her which almost broke out into a Sprint.

"Uhm, Tech-" She Stumbled, moving over to her two brothers. "Someone's coming." Tech heard instant uncertainty and fear in her voice, not wasting a moment in taking out his blaster and noting the same cloaked figure rushing toward them, a blaster in their hand too.

"Wrecker notify the others, we've got company." Using his own com, he sent out an alert to his other three brothers who confirmed that they were on their way. "Stay back." Tech threatened, raising his blaster toward the hooded figure who insisted on not listening to his stern voice and shot red bullets toward their direction. In return, Tech shot his own before dodging the several other worryingly accurate shots made at him. Wrecker Moved in front of Omega, firing back at the person that threatened them but to no avail as they dodged the rapid fire from his gun with ease. By this point, every Civilian had left for shelter, presumably in their own homes away from the sudden fire of bullets. Omega had grabbed her energy bow from her back, aiming it toward their new target hoping to make a bit. Why did trouble always follow them? "We need to get Omega back to the ship now." Tech Sternely Spoke, firing more bullets, taking cover behind a nearby wall with Wrecker and Omega.

"But I can help!" She protested, firing a few more shots. "I can shoot now!" Wrecker ensured she stood behind him in the alley within a clear attempt to keep her Safe.

"Now is not the time, Miss omega." He gestured toward the appearingly clear path behind them. "This is a bounty hunter, I'll instruct the others to meet you there - this isn't anything we can't hold off."

"And how do you know that?" Wrecker grumbled, softly pushing his little sister back a bit further with them. Without saying a word Tech effortlessly gestured to his datapad. "There has been a surge in bounty hunters, I can guarantee this is one of them with such shooting skills and their target appears to be us." More firing commenced as Omega moved further back into the alley, clutching to her bow for some much needed comfort. This was supposed to be their break! Without warning, She felt a Strong grip against her Neck causing her to cough against it, throwing her arms back into whoever had her. Both brothers turned to her Struggling form, blasters facing her way.

"Make another move and I'll shoot." A deeper voice threatened, a blaster being held against her head - no mercy lurking within the man's eyes. "This little thing is going to get me a lot of credits once I turn her over to the Empire."

"Just you?" The cloaked being arrived, removing their hood to reveal a Scarred face filled with sickened joy. "Who do you think got us here?" She scoffed, moving Past the two angry yet fearful brothers, terrified in case they shot their little sister. Footsteps quickly approached, another blaster tilted toward the Previously clocked woman.

"Let the kid go." Hunter Snarled, moving toward them, seething anger pumping through his veins. "Or you won't live to see tomorrow." The woman laughed, gesturing toward the blaster against a Struggling Omega desperately looking toward Hunter for help.

"Elidar, did you hear that?" She smirked, "They think we won't kill her!" Elidar grinned alongside her, shoving Omega more to stop her violent kicks and various movements to get her weapon which was now thrown to the side. "We get our reward regardless if she's dead or alive, we will pull the trigger and be on our way." Little did they know, Echo was hidden to the side, waiting for Hunter's call for the shot against Elidor and who appeared to be his own leader. Crosshair had also situated himself opposite the Situation Placing himself high on a building opposite, his aim directly on Elidars head doing his best not to allow anger to consume his breathing, praying that it didn't Screw up his only shot. "Let's go, El." He shoved Omega along with his footsteps whilst his companion

"Don't say I didn't warn you Scum." Hunter growled before clicking his com. "Take the shot." A single Sudden shot rang through the air, taking the woman out causing her to collapse to the ground. Just as the Shot was taken, Echo moved out to grab Omega - shooting him in the process and pulling her closely. As if in slow motion, Elidor had taken the shot against their little sister Just as Echo moved her away - the bullets luckily only scraping her cheek and arm. Crosshair was quick to take him out, ensuring he was dead before climbing down from the high ground. Tech, wrecker, Hunter and eventually Crosshair rushed to Omega who remained hidden against Echos chest. "Come on, let's move her away." Swiftly picking the Shaking girl up- they made a quick way to their Ship concerned about the possibility of more bounty hunters arriving to take an attempt on her life. More would come, that was certain. But none would remain alive if they threaten her or her brothers again, that was a promise.

#The bad batch #Bad batch #Starwars #Clone force 99 #Omega #The bad batch and omega #Soft universe

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