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norcalattorney · 1 year

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SECRET OF PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE CAR ACCIDENT CLAIMS

You will need to file a claim with your auto insurance company after an accident occurs if you want to be fairly compensated for your medical expenses and car repairs. Victims must submit claims with Progressive to be compensated if the at-fault party has Progressive Auto Insurance. Every motorist in California must have at least the minimum level of liability coverage. You can claim on the at-fault driver's Progressive Auto Insurance policy to recover financial compensation for your injuries and property damage.

Among the many auto insurance companies in the United States, Progressive is a major player. Even though automobile insurance is required by law, having coverage gives drivers the confidence that they will be taken care of in the event of an accident. Sadly, it's not always the case.

There are shareholders, bottom lines, and budgets to consider at all insurance companies, including Progressive. They will stop at nothing to reduce settlement claims unfairly. Car insurance coverage is not enough in this scenario; you will also need to know how to submit a claim with Progressive in case of an accident.

Table Of Contents

1. Progressive's History

2. Have a plan after a car accident

3. How to file a car accident claims with Progressive

4. What must I prove in a progressive insurance claim?

5. How do I prove pain and suffering?

6. Progressive's Sneaky Settlement Negotiation Strategies

7. How Can an Attorney Help with a Progressive Insurance Claim?

8. Contact A Personal Injury Lawyer Today

Progressive's History

Progressive is one of the biggest auto insurers in the country, providing coverage to tens of thousands of drivers. The company's headquarters have been in Mayfield Village, Ohio, since its inception in 1937.

The firm shifted its focus to insuring "risky drivers" in 1956, and as a result, its written premiums increased to $20 billion by 2016. Its current marketing strategy aims to differentiate itself from competitors by offering more of its services online and via mobile devices and by creating a rating system that lets customers easily compare their prices with those of other providers. Nevertheless, progressive is open about the fact that they have the lowest rates all the time. Snapshot is a feature offered by Progressive that lets policyholders record their driving habits with a plug-in device and then submit that data to the insurance provider for review and possible premium reductions. Snapshot customers who drive less often and during safer times of day may see a reduction in their monthly premium payments.

Progressive's financial and legal resources are vast compared to other major insurance providers in the United States like State Farm, GEICO, Allstate, Nationwide, Farmers, and USAA. Nevertheless, it's a significant player, so it's no surprise that it sought to shortchange its clients.

Have A Plan After A Car Accident

Progressive and the other vehicle insurance companies are not on your side. To avoid falling victim to frequent insurance company techniques intended to encourage you to settle for less after a car accident, you must think ahead and take deliberate action. Get your claim off to the best possible start by taking precautions at the accident scene.

Do not declare you are not hurt until you have seen a doctor or were at fault. Your injuries may not have shown any signs right away. Soreness in the back and neck, for example, may not begin to manifest itself until days after an accident. Never ignore medical needs like these. As soon as possible, schedule an appointment with a medical professional for a thorough diagnostic and treatment assessment. When you doubt the extent of your injuries, it is best to consult an experienced attorney.

Even if the accident was minor, it is still essential to have the police record as proof.

If you've been hurt, it's best not to sign anything just yet. Instead, you should only sign paperwork presented to you by the police or other authorized law enforcement personnel.

If you want to remember the details of the vehicle crash later, write them down immediately. It would be best if you took notes on the time of the accident, the weather, the amount of traffic, any witnesses, and the driver's actions leading up to the crash.

Don't say anything about what or who you think caused the accident, and keep your opinions about the accident to yourself. Only you and your lawyer should have these discussions.

How To File A Car Accident Claims With Progressive

Like other big insurance firms, Progressive has a car accident claims process. You have several options for filing a claim with Progressive if they are your auto insurance company. If you phoned your insurance agent at the scene of the accident, they probably gave you instructions on how to begin the claims process.

Do not rush into calling Progressive to report a car accident; instead, spend as much time as you need to compile evidence to support your claim. You must file your claim within 72 hours after the accident.

Even if you haven't talked with a representative from Progressive yet, you can still submit a claim by contacting the company through email, phone, mobile app, or website. When you submit a claim online, you have access to real-time information about the status of your claim and the ability to add and review supporting documents whenever you choose. Always have the police report handy before filing a claim.

To submit an insurance claim with Progressive, follow the steps below:

Immediately After The Accident, Contact Your Insurance Company With Information

Insurance companies usually request the following information whether a claim is filed by phone, internet, mobile app, or agent:

Specifics about the incident, including when and where it occurred.

A list of names, addresses, phone numbers, and insurance policy numbers of the driver and passengers involved in the accident.

The condition of the weather

Pictures of the wrecked car(s)

Copies of any relevant police or accident reports

Review Your Policy's Coverages And Deductible Selections

You need to know your coverage details to make reasonable claims. For instance, if you have rental car reimbursement coverage, you may be eligible for a rental car while your vehicle is being repaired. The deductible on your auto insurance policy is the portion of a claim you are responsible for paying out of pocket, while the coverage limits are the maximum amounts your insurer will pay for a certain category. Additionally, loan/lease payment coverage (commonly known as "gap insurance") might cover the difference between what you owe on the car and what it is now worth, according to your policy's limitations.

Work With Your Insurance Adjuster.

An insurance adjuster (or adjusters) will be assigned to your case by your insurance carrier. After filing a claim with your insurer, you can expect to hear back from an adjuster in as little as 1-3 days. When you file a claim, your adjuster will coordinate an inspection, determine the extent of the damage to your car, and handle any claims for personal injury. A claims adjuster may also review incident reports and conduct interviews with any available eyewitnesses. Before giving the go-ahead for the repair shop to start working on your car, your insurance company may need you to get an estimate of the costs. Then, after gathering information from your adjuster and the repair facility, your insurance company will make an evaluation.

Repair Or Replace Your Car, If Necessary

Your choice of the auto service center is entirely up to you. Following review and approval of your claim, your insurance company will issue a check to you or the repair company, minus any applicable deductible amounts. In addition, insurance companies will pay out the full market value of your car, minus your deductible, to you or your lender if it is damaged beyond repair.

Claims against the at-fault driver's insurance company, Progressive, can be filed either by your insurance company or by you personally. Progressive should cover the cost of your property damage if the accident was not your fault. However, remember that if your claim involves major medical costs, working with Progressive will be considerably more time-consuming and, at times, challenging. You should see a legal professional to ensure you receive fair compensation for your injuries and the related damages. Insurance companies take a financial hit in these situations and will do anything to avoid paying you fairly.

You may be responsible for paying your deductible if you were not at fault but yet filed a claim against your insurance company because you were frustrated with the at-fault insurer. However, your insurer will seek subrogation against the negligent insurer (basically filing a claim on your behalf), and if successful, you will receive a refund of your deductible.

What Must I Prove In A Progressive Insurance Claim?

You will need to provide evidence of a few things to receive compensation from Progressive following an accident. Those things include:

The market value of the damaged cars

The medical bills you incurred

Time missed at work, salary, and any supporting medical records for the absence from work.

The expense of any foreseeable future operations you can demonstrate are essential for medical reasons.

How Do I Prove Pain And Suffering?

No pain and suffering calculation can tell you how much you were hurt. Everyone experiences pain differently. It may be personal to you, but an adjuster will never understand that. It might be hard to convince an insurance adjuster to pay you a reasonable settlement for your pain and suffering if you don't have sufficient proof of your suffering. Sometimes filing a lawsuit against the insurance company is the only way to get their attention and make them take you seriously.

Progressive's Sneaky Settlement Negotiation Strategies

You shouldn't be shocked if Progressive's first settlement offer on your claim is laughably low when they call you. Progressive relies heavily on this tactic in their negotiations. From their perspective, there is no disadvantage in placing an absurdly low opening offer. After all, some will accept it if there are not represented by an experienced injury lawyer. Signing a settlement means giving up your rights. Do not give in to this ruse. Most individuals are unaware that accepting a settlement entails agreeing to forgo your right to pursue any more compensation for this specific claim. If you receive a settlement and then learn a few weeks or months later that the money wasn't nearly enough to cover your losses, there's little you can do about it. If the settlement amount is insufficient to pay any remaining debts or expenses, you will be responsible for them in full. Simply put, you must ensure that any settlement you accept adequately covers all of your medical expenses and lost wages. An experienced attorney who specializes in personal injury law can help you determine how much your case is worth and fight for every dollar.

Additionally, adjusters from Progressive Insurance are notorious for casting doubt on the extent of your injuries or flat-out lying about them. Insurance adjusters sometimes argue that claimants overstate the severity of their injuries, seek unneeded medical care, and point to pre-existing problems as reasons for high medical bills and treatment. You know how terrible and painful your injuries are, so having others not believe you about them is traumatic and heartbreaking.

When Progressive seeks to minimize the amount it pays on a claim, it is "business as usual" for the insurance company to question the authenticity and extent of the claimant's injuries. At times, Progressive may hire private detectives to follow you and snoop on your social media accounts to disprove your claims of injury. Therefore, when making a claim, it's best to avoid posting anything that might be used as evidence against you on social media. Even though we all try to show the best versions of ourselves online, it's important to remember that even a seemingly innocuous photo of you smiling and standing with friends might be used by Progressive to dispute the extent of your injuries.

These are only a few deceptive strategies that Progressive adjusters use. Unfortunately, if they use such tactics, you might not find out about it until it's too late.

How Can An Attorney Help With A Progressive Insurance Claims?

A policy from one insurance company might be different from that of another. An experienced attorney can help you get the most out of your insurance claim by navigating the nuances of the law and the policy. In addition, having legal representation may ease the burden of gathering evidence, filing a claim with Progressive, and negotiating with the insurance company.

Having to deal with an adversarial attorney slows down the claims-settlement process, which is why insurance companies want to settle quickly. They understand that you'll likely get a better settlement if you have an attorney on your side. An experienced lawyer will help you ensure that you are fully compensated for your injuries and that you don't have to worry about unforeseen future costs.

When filing a claim, you should be careful not to overstate or understate its worth. If you overestimate your medical expenses, your insurance will likely deny your claim. However, if you fail to account for all of your medical expenses, which end up being more than your insurance coverage, your financial situation might worsen.

Hiring a personal injury attorney to file your insurance claim is one of the best decisions you can make following a car accident. Your lawyer will handle negotiating a fair settlement with Progressive Insurance while you focus on getting better. In addition, progressive may be required to compensate you for your losses above what it gave during settlement negotiations if you file a case against the defendant.

To estimate the worth of a claim, our trained and resourceful personal injury attorneys at personal injury law firms have expertise in working directly with medical specialists. In addition, our firm has assisted victims in obtaining compensation for various losses, including medical costs, lost earnings, property damage, and even punitive penalties.

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY TWO || THE ORIGIN OF BLIND OBEDIENCE

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + nitta akari from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + mention of suicide + mention of dangerous acts + mention of killing + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 04 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 7.2k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : jamais vu

↳ next episode : the origin of blind obedience 2

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit...this ain’t my best piece of work, but i hope you all enjoy this episode of the series and good night everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’.

there was one going to be mention but...let’s keep that a secret for now...

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“Kanada Taichi in Morioka, in June. Shimada Osamu in Yokohama, in August. Yamato Hiroshi in Nagoya, in September. These three died in similar circumstances. They were stabbed to death by a cursed spirit at the entrances to their apartments and all of them had filed the same complaint with the property managers several weeks before dying. They claimed their auto-locking doors were left wide open. None of the other residents have any idea what could have happened,” Nitta (your current driver) explained, causing you to open your eyes slowly, letting your drowsiness fade away slowly.

Currently, at this moment in time, you and your classmates were being driven to your desired destination to your current mission that all four of you were set causing you to wonder how much longer the drive was going to be, but also how you were going to cope with dealing with the whole ordeal since it had been a while since you had gone on a mission dealing with the unknown - last time was over two months ago at the detention centre where you had to face Sukuna (a special grade curse).

“None of the dates or locations match, though. Could the same cursed spirit have killed them all?” Fushiguro questioned as he stared down at the Ipad he had in his hands while trying to read all the information that was provided.

‘There is one location they all have in common though’ you thought, as you turned your head to stare out of the window, recalling the time where you had read the same information on your phone during breakfast with your adoptive father, Gojo Satoru.

“Hey, could the cursed spirit be responsible for the doors? Do sensors like those pick up cursed spirits? They don’t show up on camera and stuff, right?” Itadori began to ask an abundance of questions causing you to internally giggle as some of the questions he asked were basic knowledge for jujutsu sorcerers, but it was adorable for him to try to find a solution.

“Apparently, the cursed spirit made the door operators go crazy, not the sensors,” Nitta answered, leading you to give a side-eye to indicate that you were listening to her before going back to peer at the window to figure out a solution of your own about the current situation.

“Oh...Operators?” Itadori muttered in confusion as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

“And as for whether or not the same cursed spirit was behind this...Well, we couldn’t be certain from just the residuals. After all, a lot of time had already passed. So we tried to track down any connections between the three, we found that all three attended the same middle school for two years,” Nitta mentioned causing you to stiffen up slightly on the information given to you.

“Meaning all three received the same curse, and it activated after time had passed?” Kugisaki suggested with a thinking gesture causing Itadori to make a noise of impressiveness before leaning forward to view the female sorcerer.

“Precisely. That’s highly likely. So we’re going to that middle school now to question someone the three victims all knew, and I want you four to see what you can find as sorcerers,” Nitta answered leading you to sigh (to which she slyly notices) before you processed to close your eyes as if you were going to nap for a bit.

“Way to go, Kugisaki!” Itadori mentioned in astonishment leading the mentioned sorcerer to flick her hair back.

“Heh. What’d you expect?” Kugisaki questioned smugly.

However, without the attention of all three of you, Fushiguro seemed to be annoyed as he leaned his head back onto the chair seats before letting out a sigh of his own, wondering how he was going to handle this situation now.

ꕥ

“A funeral?” Itadori questioned, as you processed to exit out of the car leading you to see a few people wearing all black, entering into a building before shutting the door quietly to not disturb the mourners that were attending the disheartening event.

“Is this the home of that acquaintance?” Kugisaki asked as she was also looking at the darkening event that was happening.

“Yes, it is…” NItta answered in a stutter leading everyone to get back in the car since there was no possible way, all of you could even interview someone properly during this time since it would be considered extremely rude.

ꕥ

“Well, this sucks. He dies the same way the other three did. He lived with his family, so there was no auto-locking door, but he was killed in front of the entrance. Previously, upon returning home alone, he reported, “The door was unlocked, but it wouldn’t open,” to his family members,” Nitta explained, as you processed to scan through all the documents through your phone trying to obtain some sort of connection between all the victims rather than the middle school that they attended to.

‘Date of birth 1983-1984...that means they were in middle school at around 1995-1998...Yasohachi Bridge was popular back then, right?’

Suddenly, the car had come to a sudden halt causing you to look up from your phone, only to discover that you had arrived at the location that Nitta had discussed to everyone at the beginning leading you to look up that the building from the side of your window before slowly letting out a breath as you processed to open the car door to go and investigate with the others.

“I asked his parents, too, but they said they didn’t know what relationship he had with the other three. Man, there goes our only lead!” Nitta whined loudly, as everyone began to enter the school premises causing you to halt for a second before you continued to stroll behind them, trying to make sure your classmates didn’t notice your fidgeting behaviour.

“Don’t worry! There has to be something at this middle school!” Itadori reassured Nitta as she looked disappointed with her head hanging low.

“I sure hope so. For now, I’ve secured an appointment with a teacher, so I’m counting on you,” Nitta replied with a disheartened tone.

“Roger,” Itadori replied with a determined smile.

Suddenly, Kugisaki (who had her hands behind her head in the beginning) unexpectedly had a mischievous smile painted on her face before quickly running off to the side causing you to look at her with a raised eyebrow as you wondered what she was planning on doing.

“There’s some obvious punks, let’s beat’em up and set’em straight!” Kugisaki suggested causing you to walk up to her with your hand raised since she was going completely off-topic with what everyone was supposed to do currently.

“Why?” Itadori asked in a confused tone.

Slowly, the two punks that Kugisaki mentioned began to straightening up with menacing looks on their face, leading Itadori to lean forward to observe the two, only for them to suddenly straighten up more in sudden fear, causing you to be somewhat confused on why there was a sudden change in expression, only for your eyes to follow what they were looking at.

“I-It’s good to see you!” the pucks shouted while processing to bow 90 degrees with their heads lowered causing you to turn back to them with widened eyes at what was going on.

“Heh, look at that. You actually get it,” Kugisaki stated with a smug look on her face causing you to give her a fed-up look towards her direction while trying to figure out why Itadori was joining in her shenanigans.

“An aura just pours out, even if you try to hide it,” Itadori mentioned as he pushed his hair back leading you to ignore both of your classmates and you processed to look around the school trying to find some clues while noticing slight hints of cursed energy roaming around the premises.

“We haven’t seen you since graduation, Fushiguro-san!” one of the punks mentioned, causing the two smug sorcerers to drop their act before quickly turning around to see Fushiguro, who was now looking to the side in embarrassment.

“I...went here...for middle school,” Fushiguro announced before turning his back to face behind him to avoid his classmates, only for them to violently grab his face as they tried to make his turn to face them.

“That’s a surprise, too, but that’s not the point! Look at me!” Kugisaki angrily demanded, as she forcibly turned Fushiguro’s face to look at her with a struggle as Itadori had a hold of the shikigami sorcerer’s head to make it face him.

“What’d you do?! What did you do in middle school?! No, it would be quicker to ask them!” Itadori mentioned in a panic, as he was desperate to find an answer.

“Hey, Idiot A and Idiot B! What did this guy do to you?” Kugisaki yelled out her question, while still having a hold on Fushiguro’s face.

“We...Or rather, every delinquent, gang member, and so on in this area got beaten up by Fushiguro-san,” one of the punks answered, as both of them lifted their heads leading both Itadori and Kugisaki to let go of their friend’s face in shock before turning back to face him in confusion, looking for answers.

“I beat them up,” Fushiguro muttered as he turned his head back with his now messed up hair, leading Itadori and Kugisaki to grab his face again in complete surprise.

“Why do you keep talking so stiffly?! Look at me!” Kugisaki angrily asked as she painfully turned Fushiguro’s face to look at her.

“What are you doing?! Hey! What are you doing?!” Itadori asked in a panic, once again, as he now turned Fushiguro’s head to face him.

“Wow~ you beat up people Fushiguro, what a drag~” you commented with a hand over your mouth leading the erratic-haired sorcerer to look to you for help only for you to turn away to observe the school’s premises again, trying to gain something for the mission at hand.

“Hey!” someone shouted, causing both of the sorcerers to let go of Fushiguro’s face which led his hair to bounce a bit. Turning around to face the front, you noticed an old man with glasses running up towards you guys leading your eyes to widen once you had gotten a good look at who was coming towards everyone.

“Who are you? Students from other schools aren’t allowed in here!” the old man stated with a loud tone.

“And who the hell are you?!” Kugisaki yelled back in anger, causing you to smack the back of her head as if to tell her to ‘shut up’ which caused her to look up at you with a pout as she held her head to soothe the pain away.

“He’s clearly a staff member. Why are you so combative?” Itadori questioned in a low tone as he began to slouch.

“We have permission to be here,’ Nitta informed the staff member while processing to show the pass that she was carrying leading the old man to adjust his glasses as he peered at the pass she was currently holding.

“Oh, you’re the ones? You’re all young, you need to hang your pass around your neck,” the old man mentioned as began to observe the group of students behind her before his eyes widened once they handed on a certain someone.

“Fushiguro-kun?”

“Hello,” Fushiguro greeted, as he looked to the side with a small blush beginning to appear on his face.

“He remembers you!” Itadori and Kugisaki mentioned in a teasing tone as they looked at their classmate with an amused look.

“So this man’s been here a long time?” NItta asked with a cheerful tone, leading you to conclude that she probably had gained hope for a new lead on the mission that was happening right now.

“Probably, Takeda-san’s a permanent employee,” Fushiguro answered in a monotone voice.

“Then I leave the rest to you!” Nitta concluded, to which she held a thumbs up as if it was some sort of encouragement.

‘Abandoning her duty....’ Fushiguro thought, before shifting his eyes towards you as he realised that you had become quiet again, only to discover that you were looking at Takeda with some sort of fondness in your eyes as a small but noticeable smile appeared on your face.

‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it Takeda-san? How are you? You’ve been okay? I wish I could ask you this..but...it’s for the best that I didn’t at all huh?’ you thought before turning your head to look at the windows beside you, only to realise that the same hint of cursed energy was still lingering around.

‘I’m surprised it remains here…’ you mentioned internally before turning back to look at the staff member in front of you.

ꕥ

“Kanada, Shimada, Yamato...and Morishita, huh? I was shocked by their passing, but I guess it’s been nearly twenty years since they graduated, I remember it like it was yesterday. They were problem children in their own right, though not as bad as you. What do you want to know?” Takeda mentioned with a soft smile causing you to scoff a bit at his comment as you covered your mouth to hold your laugh but to Fushiguro’s annoyance.

“Strange rumours, dark rumours, connections to bad adults…” Fushiguro listed as he raised his arm, leading you to look at him weirdly since it wasn’t the arm towards your side he had lifted.

“Hey, problem child!” Itadori and Kugisaki chanted in a teasing tone.

“...and anything of ill omen,” Fushiguro concluded before closing his hand into a fist as he proceeded to swing it down to punch the top of Itadori’s head.

“Dark rumours? They may have been problem children, but they never went beyond average middle school stuff. But wait...ill omen?” Takeda muttered as he began to think.

“Do you mean that tale? About the Yasohachi Bridge bungee jumping?” one of the punks questioned, causing you to look to the side in interest since you had an idea about the bridge before you had arrived at the middle school.

“You’re still here, A and B?” Kugisaki asked since she was surprised that they remained where they were.

“Yasohachi Bridge?” Itadori questioned.

“A notorious suicide spot, it’s well known in this area as a haunted location,” you answered in a casual tone before explaining why it was such an important detail to note for your pink-haired classmate.

“Oh, that’s right! Back then, it was all the rage among delinquents to bungee jump off Yasohachi Bridge late at night, it was one of those tests of courage,” Takeda explained, once he remembered what he was trying to think of.

“What a weird tribe,” Kugisaki muttered in annoyance.

“What a drag,” you mentioned in a fed-up tone.

“I’m surprised there are people dumber than me!” Itadori stated.

“What do you use for a cord?” Fushiguro questioned as he was trying to wonder how the people bungee jumped in the first place.

“We don’t do it, I just heard some students from our parents’ generation talking about it,” the punk mentioned causing you to nod your head slowly, conveying that you understood what he meant.

“One day, Kanada and the other three were absent without permission. That wasn’t all that usual by itself, but when we contacted their families, we learned that those four hadn’t come home the day before. It caused a pretty big stir, then they were found unconscious under the bridge. They got chewed out good, but all four swore up and down they didn’t remember a thing,” Takeda explained, causing all the first years to come to the same conclusion in their heads.

ꕥ

“I think that’s it,” Nitta suggested as she looked at all four of you.

“I’ve been to Yasohachi Bridge, too,” Fushiguro mentioned in a serious tone.

“To bungee jump?” Itadori asked comedically, leading Fushiguro to swiftly smash a fist on the top of his head in annoyance causing Itadori to wince in pain as he held his head with a pout.

“It’s easy for curses to take root in haunted locations, just like in schools, so people from Jujutsu High regularly patrol it,” Fushiguro explained causing you to recall the times where you would walk around the area late at night while trying to hide from the sorcerers that came from time to time back a few years ago.

“There wasn’t anything unusual at the time, though. It might be a bit famous, but it’s still used as a normal bridge,” Fushiguro mentioned.

“We still have to go check it out, though,” Kugisaki suggested, causing you to agree with her since it was the best for all the four of you to survey the bridge yourselves.

“Fushiguro-kun?” someone called out, causing everyone to turn to find Takeda coming towards everyone’s way.

“Sorry, I was curious about something,” Takeda mentioned causing Fushiguro to fully turn around to face the old man.

“What is it?” Fushiguro asked.

“Tsukimi-kun took awfully good care of you when you were in school. Is she doing well?” the old man asked, causing you to stiffen up slightly before shifting your eyes to the side since you were getting nervous at the fact the staff member was remembering everyone little by little.

“Yes,” Fushiguro answered with a deadpan expression.

“Who’s Tsumiki?” Itadori asked the shikigami user in curiosity.

“My older sister,” Fushiguro answered in a low tone, leading Kugisaki to grab his shoulder in surprise once again.

“What?! You tell us too little about yourself!” Kugisaki mentioned in an annoyed tone leading Itadori to agree with her, leading the old man to tilt his head slightly to the side - to avoid the blockage of Itadori’s body - to discover you making your way to the side of the car, where you were sitting before.

“Excuse me, I also wanted to ask you something if you don’t mind,” Takeda asked in a kind tone, causing you to halt your movements before looking up to find the old man gifting you with a sweet smile that you remembered so much causing you to turn back and make your way towards the staff-member with lessening the tension that you had before walking away.

“Yeah, it’s fine, what is it you want to ask me?” you questioned with a light tone, trying to sound polite to the man, causing him to smile at you.

“Do I remember you from anywhere, you seem quite familiar to me?” Takeda asked, causing your eyes to widen in fear before quickly blinking away the sudden change in emotion you were surprisingly expressing so easily.

“I never been to Saitama Urami East Junior High before, I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m the person you are trying to recall,” you answered with a sad soft smile leading the man to sigh before fixing his glasses.

“Is that so? I’m sorry, the minute I saw you, I began to recall a student that would always help me around from time to time and she was always on top of her work, but she left around the second year before I got to thank her,” the old man began to reminisce, not noticing the stiffness of your body as well as the panic rising within your heart leading it to beat faster than it should.

‘He’s remembering too much, but didn’t I put enough cursed energy into that spell? It should have wiped everything from his memory’

“Sorry, but could you look at my left eye for a second? I think I got an eyelash stuck there,” you quickly asked, causing the old man to agree to help you as he adjusted his glasses once again before taking a good look at your eye.

‘It could cast it now, but the others are here...I could just not use the spell to its full potential and that couldn’t cause him to faint, maybe that will work,’ you quickly thought as you were slowly transferring a small amount of your cursed energy to your left eye.

“Haku-” you muttered under your breath before coming to a sudden halt, causing your cursed energy to waver slightly as it began to slowly move away from your eye leading you to conclude that you didn’t even have the guts to commit to the action that you were planning to go on with like you did two years ago, to which caused your heart to become extremely heavy with guilt as you knew once he entered back into the school, the lingering cursed energy that you had left in the school would cause his memory to fade away, processing you to let go of your sudden plan as the staff-member mentioned that there was nothing to worry about.

‘Nothing to worry about huh?’

“Thank you so much,” you softly said with gratitude before giving the old man a final wave goodbye before entering the car with the rest of your classmates, wondering if it was still for the best that you let him free with his memory gradually coming back to life.

ꕥ

“We’re here. Koi no Kuchi Canyon, Yasohachi Bridge. Once you confirm a cursed spirit’s here, I’ll lower a veil,” Nitta explained as all of the first years processed to get out of the sleek black vehicle before stepping to the side of the bridge to be away from the road.

“Roger!” Itadori started with a confident smile presented on his face as he tugged at the vinyl cord he was holding.

Slowly, you began to walk away from the group while Nitta got back in her car before driving away and steadily grabbed onto the metal poles the were in front of you - probably built to prevent any more suicidal people from jumping over - and with much effort, began to pull yourself up to reach to the top before grabbing in the metal bar as you pulled yourself up even further.

“GOJO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Kugisaki screamed in horror, as she finally turned around to discover you pulled your body up to sit on top of the fence as you peered down to check how far you had to jump down in order to find what you were looking for in this mission.

“SHE’S NOT LISTENING!” Kugisaki yelled (once again) as she pointed at you in anger, causing the boys to turn around to see what the fuss was about before seeing the drastic measures you had taken to find the cursed spirit.

“Woah, Gojo, there’s no need for that! We have the vinyl cord for a reason!” Itadori mentioned, which seemed to be a way of getting you to come down from where you were right now as you turned to look at him before turning back at the ground below you.

“SHE’S NOT LISTENING AGAIN!” Itadori cried out in fear, as if he hadn’t done more stupid and extremes things than what you were doing right now.

“Gojo!” Fushiguro shouted before jumping up to reach the back of your school jacket, leading you to grab onto the sides of the metal bar that you were sitting on right now for support before turning back to peer at the shikigami user, ready to yell at him for disturbing your train of thought only for him to give you a pair of surprised eyes as if he remembered something.

“Get down, please,” Fushiguro quietly commanded, leading you to give him a deadpan expression before turning back to prepare to jump off since you couldn’t find another way to get down there, only for Fushiguro to pull you from your jacket once again leading your body to start to fall backwards - much to your surprise - to which caused the boys to immediately get behind you, ready to catch you so you didn’t hit the ground at all.

“You drag!” you screamed at Fushiguro before letting your body fall towards the safe side of the metal barrier, processing to land on top of Itadori and Fushiguro as a result.

ꕥ

Letting out a yawn, Itadori couldn’t help but emphasise how tired and bored he was as he remained seated on the metal railings that all four of you were sitting on right now.

“Hey, we didn’t find hide nor hair of any cursed spirit,” Kugisaki whined in annoyance as her posture slouch in disappointment, leaving Fushiguro to slouch in boredom while you had your eyes closed as if you were sleeping while sitting up straight when in reality, you were concentrating on sensing any lingering cursed energy around the area you were in right now.

Suddenly, you felt something pressed gently on the side of your head before it pushed you down to the side slowly, causing the movement to halt the second you felt someone’s shoulder being used as a pillow for your head leading a sense of confusion to rise within your stomach before you heard a few teasing sounds from Kugisaki.

“Oh~ what a gentleman Fushiguro~” Kugisaki teased, leading you to realise that your head was now resting on Fushiguro’s shoulder since it did seem like you had fallen asleep while sitting up.

“I’m surprised she can sleep while sitting up,” Itadori commented, as she leaned forward to see you in what seemed to be in a state of rest since you made the decision to keep your eyes closed.

“You should have seen her while we were training, she was asleep for so long every day,” Kugisaki mentioned as she began to recall all the times you had taken a nap during your daily training sessions with the second-years as preparation for the Kyoto Sister School Exchange Event.

ꕥ

As time went by, after you had ‘woken up’ from your nap when in reality, you had given up on trying to trace a single amount of cursed energy from the distance you were away from the ground below - which was where you were trying to go from the beginning if Fushiguro didn’t pull you down - you were now in front of a small convenience store while sipping on a small carton of orange juice that you had managed to purchase as a breakfast substitute since you were surprisingly not feeling hungry at all currently.

“We didn’t sense any presences or residuals,” Fushiguro informed Nitta, who had come to pick you three up after not hearing a single thing from everything, except for all of you being hungry.

“I see, which means this ain’t it, Guess it’s back to square one,” Nitta replied with a slight tone of disappointment as the most promising lead has been for nothing.

‘It wouldn’t be square one if you just let me jump down to the bottom to investigate…’

“Gojo, is there something wrong?” Kugisaki asked as she noticed you looking to the side with a somewhat annoyed expression planted on your face.

“It’s nothing,” you replied before taking another sip from the carton you were holding.

“But isn’t it bad if we take too long?” Itadori asked in a light serious tone.

“Why?” Kugisaki questioned, wondering why they needed to be in a hurry to finish the mission as soon as possible.

“Well, it’s a famous haunted location, right? There might still be plenty of others who got cursed and right now, the death rates at 100%. We don’t want to see others die, right?” Itadori explained as he answered Kugisaki’s previous question.

“True,” Kugisaki muttered, once she took Itadori’s theory into consideration.

“Ding-Ding! Bungee jumping was all the rage then, right? So maybe the act of jumping off is the key?” Nitta asked as she seemed excited to think of another clue on how to find the curses that were the curse for all these deaths that have been happening.

“Did she say “ding-ding”? Did she really say that?” Itadori asked as he stared at his senior in adoration.

“She did! She did!” Kugisaki replied in the same high tone with the same look at adoration at how cute Nitta was right now.

“Itadori already tried that,” Fushiguro mentioned causing the bungee jump idea to come to a halt.

“Huh?..... What?! You mean you jumped with that vinyl cord?!” Nitta screamed in shock as she began to imagine how you, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki would wrap Itadori in the cord, only for the shikigami user to fly kick him over the metal bar with you and Kugisaki holding onto the end of the cord.

“Hey, there you are!” someone shouted, causing you to look towards the direction in where the sound was coming from, only to discover one of the punks from yesterday to be on a bike with someone behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist.

“Fushiguro-san!” the punk shouted to gain the shikigami user’s attention.

“Who’s that again?” Kugisaki asked as she stared at the punk with a confused expression only for Itadori to answer her question by mentioning the people were Fushiguro’s upperclassman from his middle school and how she was ready to pick a fight with them causing her to suddenly remember who the person was.

“You were talking about Yasohachi Bridge, so...I’m really glad I found you here!” the puck mentioned with a smile on his face with slight sweat from the swift bike riding as well as a hint of fear of Fushiguro.

‘Fujinuma?...If I recall, she was a student as well…’ you thought, as you watched the girl get off of the bike she was on before walking towards the group as her eyes widened at you for a second before turning into complete confusion, leading your body to complete tense for a second.

“Fujinuma?” Fushiguro muttered causing Nitta to look at him with a perplexed expression before he clarified that she was an old classmate of his.

“My older sister,” the punk introduced the girl leading her to bow as a greeting.

“I’m glad you remember me,” Fujinuma stated in a soft-toned voice before straightening back up to face everyone within the group.

“I was talking to my sister about you yesterday, and..” the punk stated before his sister took the reins.

“Um, Morishita-san had a funeral in the neighbourhood...Then I heard from my brother that you were looking into that man and Tasohachi Bridge, so I started to wonder if they were related…” Fujinuma began to explain, leading Nitta from behind both of the people to shake her head as they needed to hide the real reason on why everyone was here right now to which Fushiguro noticed.

“If what’s related?” Fushiguro queried as if he didn’t understand what was going on.

“Morishita-san’s death and the bridge…” Fujinuma replied in a smaller tone.

“They’re not related, we just-” Fushiguro quickly countered back.

“I...I went there. In eighth grade...I went to Yasohachi Bridge at night,” Fujinuma stated as her face contorted in fear as she began to tilt her head down, causing Kugisaki to give a look as she began to wonder how many people had been to that bridge.

“Has anything odd happened at home recently? Any strange feelings that only affect you and no one else?” Nitta asked as she leaned down to face the fearful girl, only for Fujinuma to look up once again.

“My family runs a local branch shop...and the shop’s automatic door is wide open only when I come home. Mom and Dad both say it’s just a coincidence, but there’s definitely something there. It scared me. That’s when I heard about you and remembered the Yasohachi Bridge,” the girl replied as she began to shiver in fear while trying to recall all the same incidents happening to her.

“When did the issue with your automatic door start?” Nitta queried, trying to get enough information as sly as possible.

“It’s happened about every other day for exactly one week now,” Fujinuma replied in a shaky tone.

‘There’s at least two weeks between when the four victims noticed something and their deaths,’ Fushiguro thought.

‘We still have some time,’ Itadori thought, encouraged by the fact that there was some amount of time left to save someone from the cycle that was happening right now.

“You didn’t go to Yasohachi Bridge by yourself at the time, did you? Do you remember who you went with?” Kugisaki asked, trying to make sure there weren't any other victims that you all were missing at this current moment in time.

“Um, so this really does have something to do with…” Fujinuma mentioned in a stutter, scared that her life might now be at risk.

“Just with your automatic door. But it has nothing to do with Morishita-sans’s death. Fushiguro-kun and the others are helping me with my college report: Electromagnetic Waves from Haunted Locations and their Effects on Electronics, it’s a huge pain in my gut!” Nitta responded quickly, before suddenly linking arms with you causing you to put on a realistic fake smile to hold the lie in place.

“But I want to hear from all kinds of people, so I’d love to hear who you went with,” Nitta continued, trying to make the girl calm herself down while reminding her the fact that they now have to save her life before something could happen to her.

“I went on a test of courage with two others from my club. That’s right. Fushiguro-kun, Tsumiki-san was with us then, too,” Fujinuma announced, causing you to halt for a second while Itadori and Kugisaki were shocked at the fact that Fushiguro’s sister was involved in this too.

“I see. Then I’ll try asking Tsumiki, too,” Fushiguro replied calmly.

“There was also another person there at the bottom of the bridge, but I don’t remember really clearly of her at all...she was wearing our uniform thought, sort of reminds me of her,” Fujinuma stated as she pointed off to somewhere, leading your whole body to become suddenly numb at the fact that her finger was directing pointing at you causing your classmates to turn to you in fear at what might happening to you if her statement was true.

“Sorry, but I never been here at all, maybe you have the wrong person?” you unconcernedly suggested, trying to change you from being the topic of the conversation leading the girl to look confused again before gasping on how silly she was being before mentioning that she had never even met you and that she apologised for scaring you.

“Okay, then I’ll escort these two home. Please keep working on the report,” Nitta mentioned to the four of you with a smile on her face.

“Something’s up, isn’t it?” Fujinuma’s brother asked leading Nitta to form another excuse on how she could let them ride a bike back after making them petal all the way here, causing you to turn around and take a deep breath the second they began walking away.

“Fushiguro,” Itadori called out in worry before repeating his name again louder as he proceeded to grab onto his friend’s shoulder, only to see the look of unknown fear painted across Fushiguro’s face.

“Fushiguro, snap out of it, make sure she’s safe first,” Itadori muttered in reassurance, as he turned his body to face his friend to help him calm down.

“I’m fine,” Fushiguro muttered in a low tone, once he was able to snap out of his fear daze but apologising to his friend as he needed to take a step back for a second before reaching into his pocket to grab his phone to make a call leaving Kugisaki to come to your side and ask a few questions for you to answer.

“What was she talking about? Were you really a part of that school? Were you really at Yasohachi bridge back then? Answer me, Gojo!” Kugisaki asked in a panic, as you just stared at her with a blank look on your face before letting out a sigh.

“I’ve never been there before until yesterday, I have never been here at all, to begin with. There is no way I could be at that bridge,” you answered, trying to convert the conversation into something different, only for Itadori to turn his body to face you directly as he questioned you again about your ‘involvement’ in everything that's happening right now.

“Why are random people saying if they remember you then, does your cursed technique allow you to manipulate someone’s mind or anything?” Itadori asked as he needed to understand why a few people mentioned about you when you had said you have never been here at this location ever in your life.

“I don’t have a technique that does that, they have been talking about a girl that looks like me,” you answered while proceeding to cross your arms to stay as persuasive as you could while trying to hide a piece of your past that you had already somewhat erased out of everyone’s minds.

‘If they are somehow recalling some bits here and there...what about Fushiguro?’ you thought as you closed your eyes to lessen the headache that was gradually coming from the back of your head.

‘There isn’t enough time to think about it at all...these three need to get out of here before I go investigate the whole thing myself...that is...if my theory is correct like last time’

Suddenly, you reached into the pocket of your skirt before taking out your phone to swiftly call Nitta to pick everyone up from where she had left all of you causing Itadori and Kugisaki to look at you in complete confusion.

ꕥ

“Just get in the car,” you commanded in a low and threatening tone, causing the three first-years to look at you in shock before all three were pushing down into the back seats of the car.

“Us three? What about you Gojo?” Itadori asked in a panic, as he wasn’t sure why you were pushing everyone into the car that Nitta was pulled in - to which she understood why you were doing this at this moment in time.

“The mission has gone into a higher rank than what it was previously predicted, I’ll come back once I’m done with the whole thing,” you stated in a serious manner as you processed to push Itadori further into the car causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to be squashed behind him before slamming the car door shut before anyone could escape out of the vehicle leaving you alone once the car had driven off with all three of your classmates inside of it.

ꕥ

‘If I remember, you go down here’ you thought, as you began to slide down to the bottom of the ground before walking forward out of the wood, to only find yourself in the same spot you were two years ago in a different sort of uniform.

Taking your katana out of the shoulder bag you were carrying, you hooked it on your lower back before taking the familiar blue metal pole out of the same back before hooking it on to the side of your belt causing it to dangle once it was secured onto your side.

‘If my theory was right along, there should be an incomplete domain lingering around here...meaning there is a possibility that Sukuna’s finger is within a finger bearer if I enter it…’

“What a drag,” you muttered under your breath before sliding your katana out of its wooden sheath as you swift swang it behind you, causing the tip of the blade to be an inch away from Itadori’s neck to which lead the sorcerer to lean his head back in shock as your sudden speed.

“Why are you all here? Didn’t I tell you all to go home and I would deal with this?” you rhetorically asked as you pulled your katana back from Itadori leading him to relax as he let out a breath of relief.

“Fushiguro told us everything and that's what led us to help you out,” Kugisaki mentioned causing your eyes to shift from her to the shikigami user.

“We don’t want you to do this alone, you don’t have to tell us everything you are hiding Gojo, just let us help you,” Itadori pleaded with you as his hands were pressed together in a way to convey a ‘please’ to you.

“I...I can’t tell you anything...I’m sorry,” you muttered, as you slide your katana back into its black wooden casing, causing the trio to look at you with worry in their eyes as they were anxious that the secret you were keeping was something that was going to eat you inside as they were already cautious about your wellbeing if the cursed spirit was now going to target you due to Fujinuma sudden assumption.

ꕥ

After the sudden intrusion of your classmates (much to your dismay), everyone started to walk towards the area where everyone believed the domain was going to be.

Crossing a river or other border - acts that symbolise crossing into the afterlife - carry important meaning in sorcery.

Confidently, everyone took one step forward causing a reaction of electricity to conduct as your foot hit the ground causing it to erupt as the domain suddenly enclosed everyone that had taken a step within its territory.

“There it is,” Itadori stated as he stared up at the curse, leading everyone to prepare themselves with their weapons of choice.

“This one will be rewarding to exorcise,” Kugisaki commented, as she confidently smiled at the scene in front of her.

Suddenly, you had sensed something coming from behind causing you to turn your head to the side to find a disgusting looking creature coming towards you leading everyone to move away slightly as the creature spun in the air before landing in front of all of you.

“What’s this? Someone beat me here?” the creature asked in a weird voice.

“Huh?” Kugisaki yelled out in annoyance.

“Fushiguro, this one’s a different case, right?” Itadori asked as he faced the new cursed spirit that decided to make an appearance.

“Yeah,” Fushiguro confirmed, leading Itadori to close his hands into a fist as they suddenly became consumed with his cursed energy.

“Then you three focus on that other one, I’ll exorcise this one,” Itadori stated as he raised his hands.

“What? You’re going to play with me? I wanted the older sister to,” the curse asked, causing you to shiver as you came to the sudden realisation that this curse was most likely with the others that were at the Kyoto Exchange event.

However, before even one could even move you rapidly unsheath your katana from your wooden casing as you spun around to block the sudden sneak attack that was behind you before utilising your cursed energy to your legs to give you the strength to halt your movement as the sudden intruder in front of you widened their eyes in shock at your sudden speed.

“That isn’t going to work on me again, you drag,” you muttered in a menacing tone causing your new opponent to laugh as they snapped out of their shock.

“Please, call me your mother again,” the woman stated as she smirked at you, leading a wave of anger and excitement to consume your body.

“Please, I….can’t wait to kill you,” you replied back with a crazed smile.

519 notes · View notes

jinx-jade · 4 years

Text

Secret Dreams Chapter 2: Meeting the Wayne’s

Marinette woke from the dream zone, leaving her alone in the empty bed of her hotel room. While Aunt Penny, Uncle Jagged, and herself were staying at the same hotel, Marinette had a separate room from the couple.

When she went to open her eyes the sun was shining directly in them, temporarily blinding her, which was strange since she had closed the curtains last night. Squinting her eyes open slowly to let them adjust to the bright light. Marinette tensed when she could make out the shape of a person.

“Rise and Shine my little rockstar!”

Relaxing, Marinette groaned at her Uncle's childish antics.

“It’s too early for you to have this much energy!” Marinette whined, pulling her pillow over her face.

“Nah, no such thing as too much energy!” Jagged informs her. “Besides we're meeting up with Brucie and a couple of his kids at W.E. today.”

Marinette grinds at that piece of information before quickly replacing it with a scowl. She removed the pillow from her face and glared at Jagged.

“I’m not going anywhere without having some form of caffeine first.” Marinette bargains

“Well then isn’t it a good thing that I got us both coffee?” Penny suggests as she walks in to hand Marinette her cup. “After all, not all of us wake up as energetic as Jagged does.”

“Gasp, Betrayed by my wife!” Jagged cried, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.

“Did? Did you just say Gasp?” Marinette questioned looking a lot less annoyed and more like she was about to explode from laughter.

“I know what I said, little rockstar!” Jagged exclaimed as if it would help his case. Instead of the desired effect, Penny and Marinette burst into laughter.

Penny wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, “Jagged is right though little star” causing Jagged to preen a bit at the praise. Penny just shook her head at his antics, "We're meeting up with a few of the Waynes to discuss any final details for the charity gala."

Marinette nodded her head before taking a sip of her coffee, letting out a pleased sigh.

"Let me shower and get ready, then we can head out?" Marinette suggested. Penny agreed and dragged Jagged out to let her get ready.

Marinette grabbed an outfit out of her suitcase that she had forgotten to unpack the previous night. Entering the bathroom and locking the door, disappearing until she was ready for the day.

"Well, today seems like it'll be a fun day, huh Sugar cube?" Plagg asks rhetorically, grinning as he abandons his hiding spot.

"You think any kind of chaos is fun, stinky socks!" Tikki argues leaving her spot as well.

Once the kwamis of creation and destruction came out of hiding, the rest followed suit. Most of the kwamis moved towards the mini-fridge to grab their breakfasts. Some of them settled on the counter while others moved to sit on the bed or couch.

The kwamis made idle chit-chat until Marinette left the bathroom. She was wearing a high collar ivory blouse with long frilly sleeves and lace details. The blouse was tucked into her black high waist sailor shorts, with gold buttons and trim. She spends only a few minutes debating whether to wear platform heels or her knee-high black combat boots before deciding to go with the boots.

“Which of us would you prefer to join you today Mademoiselle Guardian?” Kaalki questions with her usual grace and elegance.

“Hmm, maybe you, Tikki, Plagg, and Trixx?” Marinette considers it before nodding to herself. “Yeah, let’s go with the four of you. Unless any of you wish to stay here?”

“And miss the chaos? Don’t be ridiculous, Sugar cookie!” Plagg answers with mock offense. Trixx nodded their head in agreement with Plagg’s statement.

Tikki let out a sigh, “Someone has to keep you from getting into trouble.” Shaking her head in amusement, “Might as well be my luck.”

“As you wish, Mademoiselle Guardian. I have no issues with your decision.” Kaalki informs her.

“All right then! Let’s get going before Uncle Jagged comes to get me.” Marinette makes a face at that, making the kwamis laugh. “Have a nice day everyone. Remember, don’t be seen, and don’t cause too much trouble.”

Each kwami gave their agreement to stay out of sight and not make trouble. Marinette nodded her head, grabbing her small black backpack for her sketchbook, pencils, and the kwamis. After checking that she had everything, Marinette made her way towards the lobby. Once there, she had no trouble spotting her Aunt and Uncle. Easily making her way towards them.

“Ready to go little star?” Penny questioned

“Yup! Plus I’m much more awake after finishing my coffee and taking a shower.” Marinette smiled as they started walking out of the hotel.

Jagged led them to a sleek black car with an older gentleman standing next to it.

“A pleasure to see you again Master Jared.” the man politely clams, only to have Jagged tackle him into a hug.

“Good to see ya, Alfie!” Jagged exclaimed as he pulled away.

“You must be Mrs. Rolling and Miss Dupain-Cheng?” the man, Alfie? Questioned. Receiving a nod from both Penny and Marinette.

“But feel free to call me Marinette. My last name is a bit of a mouth full.”

“And Penny is fine for me, Monsieur.”

“Of course Mrs. Penny, Miss Marinette. Master Bruce sent me as your ride to W.E., and anywhere else you may go during your stay. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, but please call me Alfred.”

Once introductions were over and done with, the group moved into the car. Heading towards Wayne Enterprise.

Marinette looked out of the windows of the car, watching the gothic architecture pass by. Damian had been right about the city seeming dark and gloomy. He was also right about it being the perfect inspiration for her new clothing line, Shadows. Marinette took out her sketchbook and got to work, not even noticing the time passing by.

“We have arrived,” Alfred claimed as he turned off the car, stepping out and opening the car doors for them. “Simply head to the reception desk and introduce yourselves. They have already been made aware of your appointment.” and with that Alfred reentered the car, driving off, presumably, back to Wayne Manor.

They did as Alfred instructed and were taken up to Bruce Wayne’s office. Jagged knocked on the Office door. After a few moments, Mr. Wayne appeared in the doorway.

“Jared, I’m glad you could make it,” he said welcoming them into the office. “Am I right to assume that these lovely ladies are your wife and niece?”

“That’d be a right on assumption” Jagged agreed. “This is my wife Penny Rolling, she’s also my lovely assistant.”

“It’s nice to meet one of Jagged's childhood friends, feel free to call me Penny.”

Jagged continues with the introduction, “And this little rockstar is my niece and designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne. You can call me Marinette, my last name is a bit of a mouth full.”

“Please call me Bruce, there’s no need to be so formal.” Once Marinette nodded her head, Bruce started to introduce his kids. “These are a few of my children. My second eldest son Jason Todd-Wayne, my second youngest son Timothy Drake-Wayne, and my daughter Cassandra Cain-Wayne.”

Marinette smiled at them before taking a seat on the office couch to sketch. She mostly stayed out of the business conversation, only really talking when the conversation had to do with herself. Marinette took time to observe the Waynes for herself because while she trusted Damian with her life, he was their younger sibling and therefore biased.

Marinette observed Jason first. He was sarcastic and would throw in snarky comments now and then. When Jason wasn’t talking, he would be reading his book which seemed to be a classic novel. Marinette let out an amused huff when she realized that Damian’s description was accurate. He’s a book nerd wrapped in spikes and leather.

She noticed that the attention had turned to her, most likely because she had no reason to be amused. Marinette simply raised an eyebrow towards them until they went back to the previously abandoned conversation.

Her observation moved to Timothy, or Tim, who seemed to be exhausted but he easily kept up with the conversation. She noticed that he was holding a thermos for what seemed like dear life. Now the caffeine zombie made more sense. In all honesty, Marinette thought that the caffeine dependence was a “mood.”

The attention once again turned to herself. ‘Must have said that out loud’ Marinette assumed. She simply ignored the attention until the conversation started again. Once the conversation was flowing freely, she went back to her observations.

When Marinette looked in Cassandra’s, or Cass’s, direction, she found that Cass was already looking at her. Curiosity clear in her eyes. It would seem like Damian was right with all of his information on his siblings. Cass was trying to read her body language. Marinette quickly thought of an idea, tensing all the muscles in her body to slowly relax them as she quickly turned her attention to her sketchbook, pretending to be embarrassed.

When Marinette looked back up, Cass looked amused, causing Marinette to smirk. The smirk seemed to confuse Cass, who tilted her head to the side as if trying to look at her from a different angle to get a better read. Marinette simply copied Cass’s movement, making both girls seem confused. Cass continued to change her body language only to have Marinette copy it. A smile appeared on Cass’s face.

“Can we keep?” Cass asked gesturing to Marinette, which made Marinette burst into laughter.

The others in the room looked confused before realization appeared on the Waynes’ features.

“You can’t just ask to adopt people out of nowhere Cassandra,” Bruce said with a sigh.

“Keep?” Cass asked again with her best puppy dog eyes. Bruce simply shook his head, causing Cass to pout.

That seemed to be the last straw as everyone burst into laughter.

_____________________

Marinette collapsed onto her bed with a smile. Letting herself be consumed into the exhaustion from the day. She drifted off to the dream zone once again.

Tag list: @little-bluestar @redbullgivescaswings @stackofrandomstuff @meismu @maskedpainter @nyx-in-line @iamabrownfox @m0chik0furan @jjmjjktth

#maribat #batfamily chaos #Plagg is proud of Mari's Chaos #Cassandra Cain mentally adopts Marinette #Cass is now Mari's sister #cause she said so #damian x marinette #daminette #soulmate marinette #soulmate damian #secret soulmate #romantic soulmates #secret relationship #secret dreams

405 notes · View notes

whumperooni · 4 years

Note

Doctor natsuo telling his favorite patient she'll feel a lot better if she just spreads her legs and let him treat her the "proper way"

Ooof this ask makes me blush

/fans self

This gives off big, big ol’ creepy doctors treating women for “hysteria” via masturbation vibes and I’m all for it.

Do y’all mind if I just-

(tw: dubcon; humiliation but not like...he doesn’t humiliate reader- just humiliated over the circumstances, unexplained massive and crippling horniness, doctor kink)

Poor, poor you- you’ve been riled up with days, fevered by a sudden lust that has you barely able to think properly, go about your business. Working has been...well. Let’s just say you ended up calling in yesterday after a night of fruitlessly trying to sate this horrible need that’s claimed your body.

It’s so sudden, this- something you’ve never dealt with before. Something strong and horrid and too powerful to resist. You’re helpless to the lust that’s wracking you and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying. You just have to make it stop.

So you book an appointment with your doctor- voice breathless as you plead with the receptionist for the earliest appointment available.

Doctor Natsuo is, of course, surprised to see you- he tells you that whenever he walks into the room and finds you squirming on the exam table, crossing and recrossing your thighs.

“What are you here for? You seemed fine last week.”

You were fine last week- you had a normal checkup, picked up your birth control and everything went the same as it always does.

Until you woke up moaning with your hand between your legs.

You blush and you mumble about being inflicted with certain...cravings. That your body is- you’ve been...

You’re barely able to tell Doctor Natsuo about the rampant lust that’s taken over you. It’s so embarrassing- your cheeks flushed and humiliation not allowing you to look him in the eyes. He’s kind, at least- barely even giving a blink as he nods and listens to your stuttered, whispered admission.

He gives you a friendly, warm smile when you’re done and pats your shoulder, soothes the mortification in you when he just says “Let’s see what we can do about that” instead of judging you like you had feared.

He has you change into one of the medical gowns and puts you in a stirrup, smiles reassuringly whenever you flush and hide your mouth with your hand in embarrassment.

It’s humiliating having him move to look over you, but it’s also...it’s also...

Well. Doctor Natsuo is very attractive and you are very horny.

Oh, god, you think. Oh god, please don’t let me get wet during this.

But, of course, you do- how could you not? Doctor Natsuo is gentle as he examines you- big fingers parting your folds sweeter than any lover ever has, his voice soft and so very nice, nonjudgmental as he looks over your horribly needy cunny. You try your best to answer his questions, but it’s hard when he’s so close and all you can think about is his thick digits slipping inside of you and soothing the pressing heat that’s whipped you into a mess all week.

He’s so handsome and you’re so needy- so embarrassed when one his fingers accidentally brushes over you clit and you let out a tiny whimper. He’s quick to reassure you that it’s okay whenever you stutter out an apology- eyes half shut and a smile on his whenever he lifts his head to look over your flushed cheeks and the ashamed tears brightening yours.

“So sensitive,” he comments, finger running through your slit and making you want to shake. “I would say you might have been hit by someone’s quirk, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one lasting this long. Hmm.”

You have to grip on the chair’s handles tight to keep from grinding your hips against his finger when glances over your clit again and you shudder when his free hand grips your thigh and his thumb smooths across that soft flesh.

“Have you tried pleasuring yourself?” Doctor Natsuo asks- plain and direct and making you want to die as he watches you for a reaction. “Masturbating?”

You fluster and it takes all of you to give the tiniest little nod in response. The hum that Doctor Natsuo gives only further serves to do things to you and you truly think you’re going to die on the spot as he continues to poke and prod at your slowly moistening cunny.

“I take it there’s been no relief from that?” Doctor Natsuo asks- upfront, but light in his tone. You screw your eyes shut as you nod and nearly bite your damn lip off when you feel the tip of his finger circling your hole. “Do you have a partner to help you? Perhaps intercourse is what you need.” “I don’t- I don’t...no...”

Your voice sounds whiny, needy. It’s getting harder to think as your lust grows and your throbbing, hot need pulses down below. You keep flipping from embarrassment and greedy, taboo desire- the horrible wish for your doctor’s finger to slip inside your aching cunny and stuff you full of those big, thick digits of his.

You want him inside and you want this horrid need to be fucked away; you want to run away from this office and hide under your covers and pretend like you’re not about to cream over the good doctor’s fingers.

You’re a horrible patient- a slut that’s subjecting Doctor Natsuo to your overwhelming lust. It’s unfair to him and you shouldn’t think of such things.

(You can’t stop thinking such things.)

“Do you have anyone that could help you alleviate this?” Doctor Natsuo asks. His finger is just resting in the very sliver of your entrance now and it’s driving you fucking mad. You shake your head- cheeks flushed and the hair at your temples dampening with sweat and grip the chair even tighter to keep from pushing back against his digit. It’s so hot in the room and you’re starting to feel more overwhelmed, hazy in your need.

“I see,” Doctor Natsuo says, straightening up. A choked whine leaves you when his hand falls from you and you shudder as steely grey eyes rake over your form. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to help.”

A questioning noise leaves you and something like panic ripples underneath your need when Doctor Natsuo places his hands on your thighs, gives them a rub. They move up higher and higher until his fingers are slipping through your slit again- until you’re gasping and staring at him in shock.

“D-Doctor-?”

“You know,” he tells you, ignoring your flustered squeak- voice conversational and calm despite how his pointer and middle finger are now rubbing against your clit and making you whimper. “Back in the day, doctors used to do this all the time for their patients. It was part of our duty.”

You don’t quite register the words as you squirm in the chair- uneasy but needy and not knowing what to do. Yes, you were just fantasizing about him fingering you but that was fantasy. That wasn’t- you didn’t really want it to happen. (You think?) He’s your doctor and he shouldn’t be doing this- it’s not right. He shouldn’t-

You whimper and he smiles down at you when your knees knock together, places his big hands on them and spreads them apart once more.

“Come now- there’s no need to be shy,” he says- voice soothing and kind as he teases his finger at your hole. “Be a good patient and let Doctor Natsuo take proper care of you.”

His finger sinks into your heat and you whimper, again. A choked whine leaves you as your pussy clamps down around his digit and a sob follows after- face turning away from him in mortification and eyes screwing shut even as your hips rock against him.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises as if you’re a child being brave and not squirming during a shot. You sob- louder this time- and buck your hips against his fingers when his thumb circles your clit, feel your body start to tighten as pleasure flares all throughout you. You whine- confused and needy and unable to stop this- and shudder whenever you hear the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“There, there,” Doctor Natsuo murmurs, teasing another finger against your hole. “No need to fuss- I’m going to make you feel so much better, okay? Just be good for me and I’ll make it all go away.”

Go away...yes. Yes, you need this to go away.

You sniffle and you nod- giving in to the need pulsing through you and allowing Doctor Natsuo to take care of you.

#Anonymous #natsuo todoroki x reader #natsuo x reader #rooni's shit #sorry this took so long nonny;;;;#i kept getting distracted and H word imagining it u.u

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partnersrelief · 4 years

Text

Myanmar’s military coup and the uncertain future.

image: Reuters

On Monday morning Myanmar woke up to the news that State Counsellor Aung San Suu Kyi, regional lawmakers and human rights defenders throughout the country had been detained and that the Tatmadaw, Myanmar’s military, had seized power. They declared a State of Emergency for one year, imposed a nightly curfew and intermittently cut telecommunications. (At time of publication, telecommunications have been restored).

The military coup follows November’s elections in which Suu Kyi’s party, the National League for Democracy (NLD), won in a landslide. Following the election, the military, led by General Min Aung Hlaing, denounced the results, claiming counts of voter fraud.

In the days leading up to February 1st when the first session of the NLD-led parliament was set to start, the nation’s Union Election Committee denied voter fraud claims, stating that the Tatmadaw’s claims were “exaggerated” and “absurd”.

The History

After achieving independence from British rule in 1948, Myanmar (then Burma) began the process of forming its own government. Since independence, attempts to unify a multi-ethnic state under one government have led to one of the longest-running ongoing civil wars between the Tatmadaw forces and various ethnic groups oppressed by the regime.

In 1962, general Ne Win and his military forces took Burma through a coup d’etat. The military’s direct rule would extend for decades but would be challenged in 1988 during the 8-8-8-8 pro-democracy uprising, which resulted in the deaths of thousands of protestors and a second coup which placed another Tatmadaw general, General Saw Maung, in power.

Aung San Suu Kyi was a driving force for the 8-8-8-8 Uprising and was placed under house arrest following Saw Maung’s declaration of martial law. During her time in house arrest, Aung San Suu Kyi and the NLD won a landslide election in 1990; however, power was never ceded to the winners, and the military junta continued their rule.

Democratic reforms slowly edged into Myanmar’s government, and a new constitution (drafted by the military) was passed in 2008.

Then in 2015, after decades of military rule, an openly-contested election resulted in an absolute majority for the NLD in both houses. Aung San Suu Kyi took the role of State Counsellor in 2016, and the country seemed to further inch towards a liberal democracy.

Key Characters

State Counsellor Aung San Suu Kyi, despite her domestic popularity, is a complicated leader. A year ago she was ushered to the International Court of Justice at the United Nations to respond to accusations of genocide against the Rohingya.

The Tatmadaw is responsible for the slaughter, rape, oppression, and genocide of ethnic groups across Myanmar, notably the Karen, Shan, Kachin, and Rohingya people.

The National League for Democracy (NLD), led by Aung San Suu Kyi, won a majority of parliament seats in 2015 and again in 2020. In spite of the party’s popularity, the military has retained indirect power through ministerial appointments and a guaranteed 25% of parliament seats for military appointees.

History Repeats Itself

And just like that, Myanmar takes a big leap backwards. Aung San Suu Kyi, government and student leaders were detained Monday morning and the election results from last November ignored. The military coup in Myanmar is a disappointing blow to a nation with a slow and tenuous bend towards democracy after decades of stifling military rule. The devastation of these events is exacerbated by the COVID-19 crisis, which has ravaged a nation where many already struggle with food security and basic health issues.

Our friends and colleagues are safe and none have been detained but it’s sad to see the smallest bit of democratic progress lost. Our concern as always is with the impact on the communities we support and especially the children and their families who face the long-term impact of oppressive regimes.

Our staff from Myanmar have expressed their concerns:

“It reminds us of the past, when we saw and felt it very clearly that the military has the authority to lead the country and harm ethnic minorities. They force them to leave and kill them even now. So if they have full power again, it will not be good for ethnic minorities.”

“At the beginning I had a little hope that my country would get better... but with this coup, my hope is already gone.”

“With this coup situation it feels like back to the old days. It makes me feel worried about my relatives in Myanmar because they are facing COVID-19 and facing this coup, I don’t know how they can survive in this condition.”

Since 1994, Partners has responded to the immediate needs of civilians displaced in and from Myanmar as a result of conflict in the region with a particular emphasis on the well-being of innocent children caught in the crossfire. When the immediate conflict subsides, Partners comes in to work with local communities to support dignity-building sustainable development initiatives, including the delivery of lifesaving supplies, as well as providing long-term support for education and health care for families and children.

“The kind and hard-working people who should be celebrated for their worth and dignity are once again forced to submit to the machinery of war,” our founder Steve Gumaer said. “Providing critical aid to survive is essential, but inspiring hope through relationships and solidarity is a priority.”

#myanmar #tatmadaw #coup #partners #karen #kachin #shan #rohingya

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bytheangell · 4 years

Text

Take Me With You

(For my @shadowhunterbingo square: Traveling | Jimon, Rated Teen, referenced alcohol but no archive warnings/other warnings) (Read on AO3) “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Simon insists. “It was one stupid letter.”

“The letter wasn’t stupid,” Jace says, already regretting his appointment to this job. “It was a death threat, by someone who’s sent multiple things to your unlisted apartment.”

“Well, no one knows where I live on the road, which is where I’ll be for the next three months,” Simon points out.

“Oh, yes, the total inability to track you from a list of cities you’re going to and the dates and times you’ll be there. You’re right, no one will ever find you that way,” Jace says, his tone dripping with sarcasm and more than a little condescending. Simon isn’t a no-name, but he isn’t famous-famous either, and Jace hoped that’d make him a little less awful to put up with than Jace’s usual high-profile assignments. So far it’s the opposite - Simon isn’t taking this seriously at all, which is somehow more frustrating than too much importance being put on minor perceived threats.

Simon sighs. “Fine.” It certainly doesn’t sound like he’s fine with it, but Jace isn’t here to argue. He’s here to do a job.

“Great,” Jace says. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

---

That ends up being a complete lie. Of course, when Jace first imagined blending into the background of Simon’s tour life he hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that Simon drove his own van, which would just be the two of them for extended periods of time.

Jace can tell that he’s putting a damper in the way Simon normally functions during his tours, mostly because he’s quiet while they drive. Then he’ll say something, start to ramble, catch himself rambling, and fall abruptly silent again in a repeating pattern.

“Sorry if I’m cramping your style,” Jace says after one of these repetitions, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the background.

“You’re not,” Simon insists.

Jace is dubious. “What would you be doing if you were alone?” Jace asks.

Simon doesn’t even hesitate before answering, “Scream-singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. It’s like, my tried-and-true road trip routine.”

“...so do it. Don’t let me stop you,” Jace says.

“My manager hates it because he’s convinced one of these days I’ll end up losing my voice before a show. It’s probably for the best I’m not,” Simon says before falling silent again.

Jace doesn’t push it, nor does he comment when Simon starts to sing to a song that comes on about half an hour later, his voice growing louder and louder until all the windows are down and he’s shouting lyrics into the cool night air.

Jace has to fight the urge to join him. Normally he doesn’t have an issue staying focused on a job but Simon has this disarming way of making Jace want to relax around him. Somehow what he thought would be his easiest job to date continues to throw surprising complications his way.

Still, he keeps his mouth shut and enjoys Simon’s singing as they continue driving into the night.

---

Watching Simon with his fans is nerve-wracking. There’s no telling who might be a threat, not when everyone seems so down-to-earth, much like Simon himself. There aren’t any obviously obsessive fangirls and normal tells like knowing too many personal details is just the norm, with multiple people casually asking Simon about how his Bubbie Helen is doing or about the cat he left at home with Clary during his tour, or the most recent book he’s been reading and chatting about online. It’s difficult to pick out a potential stalker when everyone knows what Jace would typically consider more personal details than usual about Simon.

Jace watches these pre- and post-show encounters with a feeling more like he’s observing conversations between old friends rather than a musician and his fans, signatures and photo ops aside. Simon knows some of them by name, remembers birthdays mentioned over social media or live chats, and even recalls previous conversations. It’s impressive.

Dressed in plain clothes so he blends in with the crowd, Jace grows increasingly impressed with Simon the more time he spends with him. Plenty of people claim to be humble, but few often are in practice. Not Simon. Simon is everything he told Jace when they first met. He’s the same way with his fans that he is in private with Jace, which is the same way he is with his family and friends - Simon’s just, well, Simon, honestly and earnestly and unapologetically.

It’s refreshing. It’s also just another thing for Jace to push to the back of his mind, because he doesn’t need to like the guy - he just needs to protect him. Simon looks up from the table he’s signing CDs at and shoots Jace a beaming smile, and Jace has to actively force himself not to smile back and simply nod his head in acknowledgment instead.

“It’s an assignment, Herondale. Get your shit together,” Jace mutters to himself from the corner of the room. It’s a reminder he repeats more often over the upcoming weeks than he’s comfortable admitting.

---

“Please,” Jace begs after the first two weeks of shows. “I will pay for a better hotel. Let me pay for a better hotel.”

Simon is shaking his head in response before Jace finishes the request.

“Why?!” Jace glances critically around the room. “Do you want to get murdered in a shady motel? Just because I can keep you alive doesn’t mean we have to actively test it every night when we could have a door that doesn’t look like my 11-year-old brother could kick it in.”

“You have a brother?” Simon asks, ignoring everything else Jace said as he tosses his duffel bag (because Simon doesn’t even have a proper suitcase) onto a bed Jace feels the instinctive need to run a blacklight over.

Jace hesitates to answer because this is a job and he isn’t meant to share personal information about himself with his assignment. It’s strange because normally the people he’s tasked to protect are such self-absorbed assholes they barely spare Jace a second glance, let alone casual conversation.

He’s aware that the pause he takes after what should be a simple question is way too long when Simon frowns, brows pinching together.

“Two brothers, actually. One older, one younger, and a sister,” Jace finally decides to share. It’s all he intends on saying, not wanting to be rude and not answer at all, but when Simon brings up his own sister and keeps talking, keeps asking curious, harmless questions, Jace finds himself answering without thinking.

Simon is easy to talk to - maybe a little too easy to talk to, because the next thing they know it’s 1am and they need to be up and back on the road at 6.

“Get some sleep, Lewis,” Jace says finally, taking a few extra minutes to secure the door before doing one last perimeter sweep. When he gets back he pretends he doesn’t notice Simon, still awake, hastily close his eyes and pretend to sleep the second Jace gets back in the room.

---

After the third week, Jace insists that staying at nicer hotels is a matter of security and finally convinces Simon to pull into the parking lot of a proper hotel. One with room service instead of vending machines, plus a gym and a pool. Jace tells himself it’s a matter of security as well, and not a reaction to Simon complaining about having several nights of terrible sleep and some back and neck pain from the old, cheap mattresses.

Jace certainly doesn’t correct Simon’s assumption that this is covered in the contract when in reality Jace is fronting the extra cost himself. After all, this is as much for his own benefit as it is for Simon’s, right?

That’s what he tells himself as he opens up more around Simon as well, sharing a drink or two when Simon insists (never anything enough to impair his judgment, and only ever when they’re back in a room for the remainder of the night), telling a few more personal stories, and… flirting?

Jace isn’t sure, but occasionally when Simon impulsively runs into an ice cream shop in a new city and gets a cone for each of them, or points out a storefront display with a leather jacket he thinks Jace might like, or leans his shoulder into Jace while laughing at something sarcastic Jace says… yeah, sometimes Jace gets the feeling that Simon might actually like him.

Then Jace just as quickly tells himself that it’s just Simon being nice, because Simon is nice, and because of course Simon’s going to be on good terms with the guy he’s stuck with 24/7 for two months. Jace is working for Simon, and their relationship is strictly professional, however pleasant it may also be.

It’s that hard line Jace knows they won’t cross that allows him to continue to open up more, because Simon’s safe. He’ll never see the guy again when all of this is over.

“You’re a good person, Jace,” Simon says one night after a lengthy conversation.

“...what?” Jace isn’t expecting that.

“You know that, right?” Simon’s tone is just shy of insistent, and certainly not rhetorical.

“Why do you say that?” Jace asks instead of agreeing, because… well, because he doesn’t know that. He tries, but he’s made some shitty decisions in his past, and hurt a lot of people, intentionally or not. And Simon doesn’t even know him, so Jace really doesn’t know where this is coming from.

“Just… the way you talk about yourself sometimes. Like you always have something to prove, or make up for... or like you have to justify everything you say. Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t think very highly of yourself even when you’re acting like God’s gift to mankind,” Simon adds with more accurate insight than Jace is comfortable with.

And now Jace really doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What are you, a philosopher now?” Jace mutters, still avoiding any sort of direct commentary on Simon’s way-too-close-to-home observation. “Go to sleep, Simon. I don’t need you too tired to focus on the road tomorrow.”

Simon looks like he’s going to argue but doesn’t in the end, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts in the newly settling silence of the hotel room.

It feels surprisingly pleasant to hear those affirmations from Simon, and Jace considers for the briefest moment what it’d be like to just be friends with Simon outside of their circumstances, to have these discussions and delve deeper into both of their pasts, humoring more of Simon’s personal questions and--

--and everything he can’t let this turn into over the next few weeks. Fuck.

Maybe there’s some harm in opening up after all.

---

They’re a little over halfway through the three-month tour when Jace realizes that perhaps his harmless crush on Simon is stronger than he realized. Jace watches from his usual spot in the corner as Simon signs CDs and sells band t-shirts and poses for photos, which is what he always does. But with every flirtatious laugh and every arm Simon drapes over someone’s shoulder or wraps around someone’s waist, Jace feels the desire to pull Simon away... and it isn’t because he’s in danger. It’s because Jace is jealous.

Jace grows sullen at the realization, arms crossed in front of him as he forces himself to watch Simon with his fans, because this is his job. The more he watches the more he doesn’t even think Simon realizes he’s doing it. Jace knows what active, intentional flirting looks like, but this is just Simon being his natural charming self, and Jace isn’t sure if that makes the whole thing better or worse.

Because it starts to dawn on him with a bit more meaning now that the way Simon’s been with him is the way Simon is with everyone. Jace just gets to experience it more often than everyone else right now. That doesn’t make their conversations special. It doesn’t make Jace anything special to Simon. And hell, maybe it’s just been a while since Jace spent this much time with someone else, too. Maybe he should work on writing off his own motivations as easily as he’s writing off Simon’s because his feelings are far from professional right now.

When the crowd disperses and Jace goes to help Simon wrap up his gear and load it back into the van (something that’s become routine for them, though not strictly in Jace’s list of expected duties) Jace is quieter than usual.

“Everything alright?” Simon asks, catching the shift in mood.

“Yeah. Fine,” Jace says curtly.

Simon doesn’t look like he believes him but doesn’t press the topic as they toss the last of the equipment into the van and head out.

---

The nicer Simon is toward him, the more closed-off Jace gets. He’s quiet during dinners Simon insists on paying for, stops sharing so much about himself when they do talk, and when Simon gives Jace a guitar pick he fashioned into a necklace for him Jace pockets it with a muttered ‘thanks’ without putting it on. He doesn’t have the heart to totally push Simon away, but he can’t keep growing closer to him knowing it’s all going to end in three weeks.

Jace wears the necklace every day but he keeps it tucked underneath his shirts where Simon can’t see.

Simon eventually stops trying to talk to him entirely, and they spend more and more time in uncomfortable silences. Sometimes Simon insists he needs privacy to work on his music and Jace sits at the end of the hallway of their hotel room listening to the faded sounds of Simon’s strumming.

There are three weeks left in Jace’s assignment when he gets the call that the police managed to track the letters to a girl back in New York: she’s in custody and getting a restraining order put against her, and Jace can come back as soon as he arranges transportation.

Jace hangs up the phone feeling surprisingly upset. This is great news for Simon, and he should be happy for him if nothing else, but that means this is the last night he’ll have to spend with Simon.

The last night he’ll get to spend with Simon.

“Hey Simon, good news. I just got a call from Luke and they tracked down your mystery stalker. You’ll get all the details once you’re back home but they’re already putting the restraining order into place, so you’re good to go.”

“What? That’s amazing!” Simon grins automatically, but it falls back into a frown just as quickly. “Does that mean you…?” his words trail off in question.

“I’ll be able to leave in the morning,” Jace confirms.

“Guess you’ll be happy to get out of here,” Simon says, his smile entirely gone.

“I do miss New York,” Jace carefully avoids the answer he knows Simon’s fishing for. The lie he should give, but can’t bring himself to.

Simon looks Jace up and down, his gaze finally resting on Jace’s face for a long couple of seconds, searching for something there before turning away without another word.

---

Jace knows he shouldn’t go to the show, but he does. He hangs in the back, a real drink in hand now that he’s no longer on duty, and listens to Simon sing the songs Jace knows by heart now. Jace knows from experience standing by the side of the stage that there’s no way Simon can make out any faces where Jace currently sits back by the bar. He plans on leaving before the end, before the lights come on and Simon knows he was there.

He’s a few drinks in when he hears Simon break his usual format.

“How does everyone feel about me trying out a new song I’ve been working on?” Simon asks. The crowd claps and cheers, and Jace shifts in his seat to fully face the stage. “This is a song about feeling a connection with someone, and not knowing when things went wrong, only that they did. And wondering if maybe it was all in your head the whole time...”

Jace feels his throat tighten at those words. He doesn’t have to be a genius to piece together the lyrics Simon starts to sing, fitting them to their lives the past few months, the hope of getting to know someone you’re starting to like, the confusion of being shut out, the uncertainty of wondering if they ever felt the same way you did or if they were just humoring you.

Jace knows Simon well enough to know that this isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be.

Against his better judgment, Jace stays. He stays until the set is over and the lights come on and Simon looks out around the crowd and makes direct eye contact with him.

Because fuck it. He’s leaving in the morning, and if this is all for nothing then he’ll never see Simon again and it won’t matter. But if he’s right…

Jace hangs back, watching Simon smile and laugh and sign CDs and take photos, acutely aware of every time the musician’s eyes wander over to where Jace lingers by the bar. Outside of the fading buzz from the alcohol it almost feels normal: hanging back after the show, watching Simon and waiting for him to make his way over once the crowd disperses. Hell, even the butterflies in Jace’s stomach aren’t new.

“You’re here,” Simon says when he finally makes his way over. “I didn’t think you’d come, since… I mean…”

“I heard your new song,” Jace forces the words out before he can change his mind. “I’d say I liked it, but that seems like the wrong response from the guy who made you think you did something wrong.”

“Not everything is about you,” Simon argues, but the intent falls flat beneath the nervous tremor the words are spoken with.

“No,” Jace agrees easily. “But that song is.”

Simon hesitates, then sighs. “It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for not liking me, Jace. You were doing your job, that’s-”

“No. I’m sorry I was going to leave without telling you that I like you. I thought I’d leave and you’d never see me again, that it’d be pointless to get attached. I thought you were just… being nice. Because you’re a good person.” The words spill out of Jace before he can overthink them.

“You like me,” Simon repeats incredulously. “That totally makes sense with, you know, the way you completely stopped talking to me.”

Jace can hear the anger in Simon’s voice and winces slightly. Just because it’s entirely deserved doesn’t make it easier to hear.

“I figured it’d be easier to walk away once this was all over if we weren’t as friendly.” It’s still a shitty thing to have done, and Jace wouldn’t blame Simon for holding it against him. But after hearing that song he couldn’t walk away with Simon thinking it was over anything he did wrong. No matter the cost to Jace’s pride, Simon deserves that much. “And… maybe I was a little afraid that if I got much closer I’d want to cross a line I knew I couldn’t.”

“So you felt it too?” Simon’s words and expression are full of so much hope that Jace almost panics again. What if he isn’t half the person Simon thinks he is after getting to know him in this little bubble of theirs from the past few months? What if he messes this up?

...what if he doesn’t?

“I did,” Jace finally admits. “I still do. And I know I probably ruined any chance I had before, but if I haven’t fucked things up too badly, maybe once you’re back in New York we could meet up for coffee?”

Simon smiles, brighter than the house lights that fill the small venue now.

“Or… or you could stay with me for the last few shows? I wasn’t just being nice for the sake of being nice - I like you, Jace. I changed my hotel routine for you! I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. I don’t know if you have to go back right away for work, or something, but if you don’t I definitely wouldn’t mind the company. Your company.”

Jace considers it for a few long moments, then nods. It’s fitting, he thinks, to drop the formalities and the professional distance in the same setting he started to fall for Simon in. The same setting in which Simon started to fall for him, despite Jace’s best efforts to dissuade him, only this time with no excuses to hold him back. And if Simon’s willing to give him an actual shot after everything, he’d be a fool not to take it.

“Well, I can’t very well leave you to lug all your equipment around by yourself, can I?” Jace says, smiling. “Let me check back in with the office tomorrow morning but I don’t have anything scheduled. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

There’s a pause then, the air between them filled with an almost electric buzz of anticipation. Simon takes the first step closer, bridging the gap between them. There’s no questioning what Simon’s thinking when his eyes dart down to Jace’s lips and back up to meet his gaze again before speaking.

“Can I-”

Before Simon can finish, Jace’s lips are already on his in response. It’s slow and tentative, with each of them feeling the other out, but it’s nice. It’s really nice. When they pull away after a few moments Simon can’t keep the smile off his face. “That was even better than I imagined.”

Jace quirks an eyebrow, smirking fully now. “You imagined us kissing?”

“Shut up and help me load the van.”

The familiar banter and Simon’s easy smile are such an immediate comfort for Jace that he can’t help the light laugh he gives in response. As Simon looks back at Jace it’s with an expression so soft and full of kindness that Jace knows now isn’t the same look he reserves for everyone else.

Jace knows it’s a look reserved only for him this time - and with any luck, for many more times to come.

#jimon #jace herondale #simon lewis #shadowhunters #tsc #hmdiscord #ShadowhunterBingo #a birthday gift for cor! because no one loves Jimon quite like her <3 #I hope you like it!#long post #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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crimsonfluidessence · 3 years

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Prompt 25: Silver Lining

Just another day, like any other. Esredes was on his walk to work, and in a particular mood. His mind was wandering once more as he passed the Vault, to fantasies that faded far beyond reality. Imagine if the Warrior hadn't interfered until Nidhogg reared his ugly head. Imagine if Ysayle had killed the Archbishop, before he could take on his own transformation, and the two of them had dealt with Nidhogg. Esredes hadn't trusted Ishgard's people enough, perhaps even less than Ysayle herself. He was fully mentally prepared for having to subjugate Ishgard to get it to listen to them. But perhaps, as things had turned out, not nearly as many would have needed subjugation. Perhaps he wouldn't need to help manage a fragile, in chaos city-state that had been taken over, especially when so many of his own had nothing even close to management skills, perhaps a proper parley would've been possible. And yet, Esredes pulled himself back to reality and reminded himself, that was never quite the case. Peace had been agreed to, and that was it. Himself and all of his were only here on Ishgard's terms or else, and the rest simply had to be dealt with. Still he went through his days in anticipation of being fired for shining progressives who repeated his ideologies on Ishgard's side, or of his house burning down when he got home. Ah, what would life have been like if he wasn't a failure who couldn't match up to idiotic children with goddess powers? It was a question he asked himself here and there, swirling around with all the others, and in his head, timelines began to split off, mirrors into other worlds for him to glance into. In one, he saw himself back with his family in Thanalan. He lived under a new identity and kept quiet and to himself, always afraid of the Ishgardian government finding him out. He worked a simple job that had him feeling nothing, and though he hoped to earn his parents' forgiveness through it, things didn't really change. Esredes looked away from the mirror and towards the approaching door to his office, and opened it and went inside. He greeted the receptionist as always, then greeted Heilyn and Ferrant, quipped with Heilyn about the fact he would never brush his damn hair properly and it looked like ass or something stupid like that. Work went steady today- Esredes cozied himself up with a cup of white tea and busied himself writing some in depth notes on Dragon Blood observations to use as a reference. With how many people he had encountered here and there who would do any amount of dubious things to obtain such information, the casual scrawl on the paper gave no indication of awareness of this. Just another day, just another paper amongst many, cloaked in the tranquility of absurdity. Another mirror opened in Esredes' head as he worked. In this one, Esredes had gone through with one of his fleeting ideas and fled to the Far East when Ishgard rejoined the Alliance, and oh my, was he lost. Completely out of his depth, he had to fight off multiple people trying to mug him in Kugane until someone watched his latest skirmish and approached him. "You're good with a sword," the man said as Esredes shrunk back and kept his hand wrapped around its handle. "How would you like an opportunity to put it to the test?" And so Esredes watched himself hesitantly agree after sixty and a half questions to work for a Kugane lord as a bodyguard. It was a place to stay and decent pay, to stand around and observe everyone like a hawk. He got to know some people around the home and the streets of Kugane who looked upon him with respect, yet caught himself glancing over the sea even on a good day and remembering everything he left completely behind. Esredes got up to refill his tea, and the mirror closed. Soon after, Heilyn called him over to the office across the hall, and surprised him with a sweater- knit entirely by him in that periwinkle blue reminiscent of Shiva. So that he had more than one sweater, Heilyn said. Esredes smiled and thanked the man back, giving him a soft hug of gratitude. Ferrant was also his usual cheerful self today, asking after if Esredes was feeling all right and letting him know he appreciated him. All very routine, yet he never tired of it. At lunch hour, he had an appointment of the strangest sort, so he retrieved his coat and exited the building and made his way down to the Firmament. Esredes was in a little bit of hot water recently, having chased down a double agent to his people and getting in trouble after he was arrested for the act of vigilantism- as if that was the worst thing he had done while back in the city. And yet the head Inquisitor on the chase wrote to him and invited him out to lunch with his friend who also got involved with the chase. To know them both as a person, she claimed. He was completely lost as to the motivation, but Esredes could tell she was an Inquisitor who had an actual soul, a normal person's thought process. So he accepted and went on a picnic. She served arancini, an imitation recipe from the Far East. Elouan took most of the conversation as Esredes anticipated, and he didn't have to do much work as he listened to her and her bodyguard talk about how much they want to visit the Far East, and Elouan filled them in on his own travels. What a nice and unexpected little bubble in the veil of absurdity. Another mirror manifested during the picnic, and Esredes saw himself with his knees curled up, sitting on the ground in a pathetically tiny cell, and from the expression on his face alone, clearly having lost his mind. He flinched and ignored the mirror after his initial glance, focusing his attention on Elouan's babbling exclusively. When everything wrapped up and he returned for the second half of work, Esredes made a few discreet calls in his office to the network about arrangements for later. A little outing with an actually human Inquisitor was nice, but the man knew what he was, and there was always work to do. He took a break in the middle to move over to the Blue Room for an appointment. Clover's ward Teagan had begun seeing him in the past couple months, a woman rescued from life in a fighting ring in Ul'dah who was still perpetually trying to learn and adjust to life beyond. They always had good discussions, even after he put her to looking into the water. This time, to teach her about Ishgardian culture, he had ended up going into his own story up until everything fell. "How did you do it? Turn it around, I mean? It must have been hard, pulling yourself out of that... how did you manage?" She asked him after that. Esredes had to pause a moment to think about his answer. "I had to take it a day at a time. The other members of the camp were not unsupportive. They were concerned, they wish they knew what to say or do, but I was completely unreachable. So, for one thing, I'm someone who doesn't believe in meeting your death unless you have to. It's more productive to die so someone else lives than to simply off yourself. So every day, it was get from start to finish. There was a routine. Do your tasks, break for meals, read in your tent, avoid talking to anyone any longer than you had to. Keep doing this, and eventually you would either die, or something would happen that you were waiting for. Just, something to happen. It was all I really had besides keeping in mind my family- what if I missed something happening? Eventually, I realized these people were that, people. Who cared. Who did not want to kill me for being a knight as I thought. And I decided that, while I could've fled to Thanalan and tried to live as a normal person, I wanted to stay and make a difference, even a small one. Help people in my situation to be saved and survive, not perish to Ishgard, even if there was no chance of making a bigger difference by that point. And when Ysayle entered the picture, that changed everything, and the rest is history." "I think I can understand that... I, for one, am glad the sun continued to rise for you...that you were able to find reasons to keep going, ways to help people." She gave a small smile. "I bet you've made plenty of differences with all the folks you've helped along your journey. Cause it's not just the big ones that matter, yeah?""Well, had I not been concerned about the small child who was alone in the woods, we wouldn't be here, so yes. And that's what I enjoy about doing this on the side nowadays- the pleasure of seeing it affect individual people in real time. The way I ended up discussing it with another client, is you have to figure out the way to get out of the room. You're in a room, and you can get out and see what's beyond it, but you're just not ready to yet, you find yourself unable. Once you can manage to get out of the room and see what's beyond it, everything becomes a little easier." Teagan tilted her head at this. "A... room? So... you finding the drive to help others helped you open your 'room'?" "It helped me get out of it, yes. I realized I still had something to do and people cared. People really helped a lot, even though I was pushing them away. Just knowing they wanted me to feel better and believed in me as a person.... after everything else fell through, it was all I had." She nodded and smiled a little. "I'm glad you were able to find the door, and that you had people there to help you find the knob." She paused for a brief moment. "... Thank you for sharing your story with me, Esredes. It's been really eye-opening." And so the session concluded, and soon Esredes was back out into the world. First half of the day was over, and then it was time for the second. There was not a formal meeting happening with his people tonight, but instead a get together of sorts at Vette's more recently acquired mansion she had made into a space for all of them to convene safely. Esredes went to and from everybody, making sure everyone was doing well, holding conversations and watching everyone enjoy themselves with a faint smile on his face. He stepped into the bathroom at one point to do his business, and washed his hands after. He was confused why there was a second bathroom mirror for a moment until it began to show him another reality. Esredes stepped back from the sink and put a hand against the wall to his left, the other going over his heart. Reflected back at him in the mirror was a collection of all the people he knew and loved close together, with himself standing further away on the platform and forced to stare at them. A mass public execution. Esredes rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut, pressing his entire body against the door and breathing in and out, in and out. It's not real. It's not real. "Esredes?" Came a gentle voice, as Vette approached the man. She had most definitely felt the spike in distress from the aetherial bond they shared. She asked about how he was doing and put a soft hand to his cheek. "I'm all right, really." Esredes said. "I just had... an unexpected wave of fear come over me." Vette was always in tune with how he felt. She helped him calm down the rest of the way, and then lead him back to the gathering. The anxiety soon faded, and replaced by it, a warm feeling heated the blood inside him. For the rest of the evening, Esredes continued to engage with his family, waves of laughter and elation surging and falling in with the tide. He only hoped that the droplets of gratitude leaking from his fingertips and voice washed over everyone attending like a cool rain on a summer's day, for as he closed his eyes and let each droplet of noise from their voices and words hit him, everything stood right into place where it belonged.

--- @thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Heilyn, Ferrant, Sartorius (unnamed mention) @eternal-finis Lieuvanne (unnamed mention) @shieldbcund Elouan @punches-and-cream-puffs Teagan @syerraffxiv Vette

#in action #writing #ffxivwrite2021 #heilyn #ferrant #sartorius #lieuvanne #elouan #Olivette #post hw #teagan #screenshots #Ysayle

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politicaltheatre · 4 years

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Depraved Indifference

"I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn't lose any voters, OK? It's, like, incredible."

- Donald Trump, at a campaign stop at Dordt College, Sioux Center, Iowa, January 23, 2016

This quote didn’t find its way into the second impeachment trial of the now-former President, but it should have. In a better world it would have, but in that better world a man such Donald Trump would not ever have been elected to any office, let alone one as powerful as president. And yet, somehow he was.

Donald Trump is no longer president, something his defenders, standing before the Senate and sitting among the trial’s jury, have taken great pains to try to focus our attention on.

Note how they talk about the importance of “moving on” and getting over it, thereby distancing us and, far more importantly, themselves from what was done.

Note how they try to frame the charge against Trump - “inciting violence against the government of the United States” - as merely “partisan” and “political”, something devoid of any legal justification or standing, as if the crimes were not witnessed by billions around the world in real time.

Note how, when faced with having to face the morally depraved actions they either encouraged or enabled in Trump and those who followed him, and having to defend their own complicity in the indefensible result, they turn to not even a little bit thinly veiled threats against those daring to accuse. Any retribution, they do declare, any continuation of violence against Trump’s declared enemies, that will be on you.

This has all the subtlety and predictability of a trial in the Jim Crow South, and, given the number of Confederate flags waving inside the Capitol on January 6th, that really isn’t too strong a comparison.

Trump, as anyone anywhere in the world even casually paying attention should know, is entirely guilty of inciting that riot. He spent years cultivating doubt in the electoral system, months casting doubt on the 2020 mail-in voting results, and, finally, weeks spreading blatant lies about voting fraud, ones that he continues to tell to this day.

He did all of this while encouraging and enabling exactly the kind of violence done on his behalf that we all saw on the 6th and, as the House impeachment managers have helpfully shown at length, in the days, weeks, months, and years leading up to it.

“Stand back and stand by”, right? The Proud Boys stuck that on t-shirts.

If the videos the House managers have played have failed to persuade, we tell ourselves, perhaps the evidence of Trump’s Defense and Justice departments undermining the Capitol police and National Guard’s response will. How about a timeline of Trump’s fiddling while the Capitol burned and his own Vice President quite literally ran for his life? No? Really?

You don’t need a lot of time to prepare a case when the defendant has been caught, figuratively, thousands of times in the middle of Fifth Avenue with a smoking gun. Trump’s thumbs offered up hundreds of smoking guns to choose from. Videos of his post-election rallies do, too. The ones he posted that day, hours after the breach, calling the men and women hunting “traitors” of both parties and battering Capitol police with American flags “patriots”, well, that’s a prosecutor’s dream. Or should be.

So, yes, he is guilty. Very, very, very guilty.

Ah, but so are at least three of his jury members: Josh Hawley, James Lankford, and Ted Cruz. They all gave credence to Trump’s lies, they all gave weight to those lies by demanding that the Senate investigate them once more and yet again before confirming the election, and that day they all cynically and repeatedly called for the rejection of President-elect Joe Biden’s victory. Well, Hawley and Cruz did; Lankford was trying to when he was evacuated.

They were no less guilty of trying to profit from the misplaced and misguided rage of those storming the Senate chamber than Trump, and, if the rioters’ own social media accounts are to be believed, Hawley and Cruz at the very least were no less accountable for them being there. Lankford, it seems, needs to up his social media game.

Those three senators, of course, are not on trial. They are merely jurors charged with deciding the guilt or innocence of Donald Trump for doing what they did themselves. They will be joined in their guaranteed “No” votes by at least 41 other Republican senators who, like them, once again voted to claim that, despite over 200 years of clear legal precedent, this impeachment trial is “unconstitutional”.

It’s no shock that the House managers’ detailed legal history lesson fell on deaf ears, nor is it that those three and other Trump Republicans were caught “reading” during the presentation of evidence. Rand Paul, whose own ridiculous claims about the election and trial have been followed by threats of retaliation, was caught doodling like teen stuck in detention.

This, not anything said by Trump’s crack legal team, is the argument for the defense: they know what Trump did, they know it was wrong, they know what they’re doing, and they know that’s wrong, too. And they do not care. They do not care.

These aren’t stupid people, they’re just dishonest. More specifically, they’re corrupt. What they believe, what they take as a matter of faith, is that they’ll face no real consequences for anything they’re doing or anything they’ve done.

And who’s to tell them they’re wrong? What’s the worse Hawley or Cruz will face? Censure? You can’t shame the shameless. They’ll wear their censures the same way Trump would, as a badge of courage on which they can raise campaign money and, they hope, draw out votes from Trump’s millions of rabidly loyal supporters.

For Hawley, Cruz, and others already campaigning for 2024, that’s all that matters. For them, this is just an opportunity, a means to an end, as they pursue their highly profitable careers in politics. It’s just business. For them, Trump, and every other one in Congress, on TV, and on social media who chose to ignore what people might do if they lied to them and wound them up, and for all of those choosing to ignore the consequences of it now, that’s all this is: just business.

And that’s the problem.

Politics shouldn’t be a business. We know that without even having to be told. When we talk about it, we do so in terms of “service” and “doing one’s duty”, words and phrases that romanticize the selfless nature we want to see in our politics and our politicians. We don’t just do that because that’s how we’ve always heard it spoken of, we do that because we know that the ones who embody that ideal are rare. There’s just too much evidence to deny it.

Go back far as you want, there have been men and women seeking power for the purpose of defending themselves and their friends from accountability. Back in the day, they sought appointments through connections or simply joined the clergy. These days, they run for office.

The political party in this country that currently stands against accountability is the Republican Party. Sure, the Democratic Party has its own sizable share of complicity for allowing the country’s drift into right-wing aggressive selfishness, but, lucky for us, it hasn’t been able to rid itself of its accountable members the way the Republican Party has. Of course, that’s only natural, given the importance of accountability to the political Left.

The last two Republican presidents were elected in no small part because they had a background in business. Yes, they each ran their businesses into the ground, but they ran them.

George W. Bush came into office as a “corporate” president, one who would, we were assured, delegate to those more experienced and skilled in areas where he was…lacking. We waved away his inadequacies and were somehow shocked when he failed in exactly every one of those areas. Still, he and his friends made money hand over fist, so the corporate presidency was good for business, big business, in particular, which got a big bailout.

Donald Trump should have inspired even less confidence, but confidence man that he is, he played enough suckers to get him in the White House. As much pain, suffering, and death as he has caused in four excruciatingly long years, he and his cronies have made out like gangbusters, too. The government they were hired to manage, not so much.

From the start, he and his cabinet secretaries lived by the old rule, “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission”. Not that they asked for forgiveness. That’s for losers. They broke laws, fleeced taxpayers, and resigned knowing that whatever penalty they might face would pale compared to the profits they took with them.

This is the mentality that drives corporate decision making around the world. For them, the adage is a bit more like, “better to settle a lawsuit than risk profits”. They, too, avoid apologies whenever possible. That keeps the damages paid to to victims and their families lower.

Currently, there are companies selling cars, drugs, baby food, and other products that they know are defective and a threat to the people using them. They know this. They know there’s a high risk that people will die, and they do it anyway. Instead of recognizing the threat and stopping, they do cost-benefit analyses to determine the number of deaths from their products they can afford.

This, it’s worth stating, is not capitalism. We may tell ourselves that it is, but that’s just us looking for an easy answer, a scapegoat for our own failures. In fact, this pattern was just as common under communism, too; just ask anybody who used to live near Chernobyl. Mistakes are hidden, a given number of deaths are accepted, and the perception of success and prestige is maintained.

This is corruption, and deaths and suffering caused by a lack of accountability are what corruption does. A death is a symptom, a great, big red flag, something to tell you that something is very, very, very wrong, but how many of those red flags do we see and ignore before we finally stop to ask what it is we’ve been seeing?

How many smaller red flags, such as poverty, racism, anti-semitism, police brutality, injustice, and sexual abuse, do we pass because we’ve just become so used to seeing them? Do we tell ourselves that there is nothing we can do? Do we even ask if there is anything we can do? Or do we, as so many senators are now preparing to do, instead embrace corruption as a virtue.

This is the real threat, a system that accepts this and holds no one accountable, and a culture that pushes back against demands for accountability, embracing the very worst of who we are and what we can do to others just to prove that we can. The result is a flood of childish acting out and a loss of trust in products and services that we must be able to trust because they are supposed to keep us safe.

Is this as great a threat to our society as the January 6th attack on the Capitol? This is that attack. The product failures that led to the attack were political. We have watched as our political and government institutions have failed. We have watched as those entrusted to deliver a product that works and keeps us safe have, again and again, deliberately or not, betrayed that trust. As with any other product sold, each breach of trust carries over into the next, accumulating and compounding, eroding not just our ability to trust those products but all products like them.

Think of the doubts Americans have about the safety of vaccines? Sure, we can chalk that down to internet conspiracy theories and echo chambers if we like, but would they have gained the traction they have in a world in which we weren’t inundated with ads featuring paid-non-attorney-spokespersons asking us if we or a loved one took this drug or that and had experienced one or more life threatening side effects? How many of us heard about the Covid-19 vaccines and asked, How long before we see the ads for that?

For decades, we have allowed ourselves to become a nation of beta-testers, taking on the cost and burden of quality control that the companies releasing and profiting from these products, and these class action lawsuits have become big business as a result. Every new pharmaceutical product that hits the shelves, part of us is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Time and the success of these vaccines should put an end to that, at least for this pandemic, but that we have to do so should tell us about the work we have to do to repair our society, or to build one that can exist without absolving us from being accountable to each other.

Until then, we have other kinds of corruption to face, including one that may be more destructive than anything we’re seeing in the Senate this week.

The Reddit-GameStop insurrection might have been fun to watch from the sidelines, a bit of schadenfreude for those of us on the outside of Wall Street, looking in, but the truth is the hedge fund villains still made their money, and the systemic fault lines this episode exposed should have us all scared and paying attention.

Our economy is overly concentrated in Wall Street’s product and therefore overly dependent on its success and stability. A loss of faith in its product has been underway for years. That’s how you get to day traders trying to take on hedge funds the way they did. This wasn’t David vs Goliath, this was guerrilla warfare over who gets to make the quick and easy profits.

The upside of that is that some of the “little guys” seem to win something; the downside of that is that it does nothing to fix the problems we have with Wall Street. Rather, it only makes them worse, by highlighting how easy it is to manipulate stocks and commodities and how few get to do it and get away with it.

What happens, then, when no one has any faith left in Wall Street? What happens when everyone believes it is nothing more than a casino designed to take money rather than make it?

Well, we’re almost there. We have a massive, growing online gambling industry, and with it an online gambling problem. Sports leagues, some with their own recent histories of cheaters (and worse) getting away with it, have turned their own fans onto gambling as part of the sport. How many of these people, blowing their money on bad beats, think of it as no different than investing on Wall Street stocks?

A better question: What happens to all of those stock prices when everyone, including the crooks on Wall Street, lose faith in that system, take their profits, and leave? An even better question: What happens if they do that all at once?

The answer is: Lost jobs, pensions, food and housing security, and hope.

In other words, 2020 on steroids. That’s what you get with corruption, an environment in which politicians like Donald Trump, companies willing to harm consumers, and right wing domestic terrorists thrive. As long as they aren’t held accountable, they will.

“Bad for the country”, indeed.

- Daniel Ward

#impeachment #corruption #politics #depraved indifference #aggressive selfishness #Donald Trump #josh hawley #ted cruz #james lankford #mitch mcconnell #lindsey graham #republicans #democrats #january 6th #insurrection #long reads #long read

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d-ama-ien · 4 years

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Take a Break

Summary: The District Attorney is sick, yet they drag themselves to work anyways. Damien convinces them to take a break, helping care for them after they agree to take the rest of the day off.

Pairing: Mayor Attorney (Damien x the DA)

Warning: Some mentions of nausea and other cold symptoms

A fic for @fgfluidity

Author note: It’s cold season y’all, take care of yourselves! Damien wants you to be health uwu

You know you're sick- yesterday your body felt tired, bone achingly tired, you weren't able to finish even half of the dinner you made yourself, and you passed out before the clock chimed 8, barely waking up to your alarm this morning. But, you're not allowed to be sick, not with the trial coming up, with all the work you need to do. So, you trudge through your morning routine, managing to make yourself look something like presentable, arriving at the office on time, as usual, smiling at the secretary like there wasn't a worry in the world. Just the short walk to your office had you exhausted, but fortunately, you could sit while doing your work, and then you'd be fine.

You were not fine. It didn't matter that the only thing you had been doing for the last hour was paperwork; you were exhausted, barely able to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Just another hour or so until lunch, then another 5 hours until you could go home, then another three days until the weekend, and then you could rest. For now, it was out of the question, and you page the secretary for some coffee before quickly changing your order to tea. Yeah, coffee wasn't the best idea with your stomach. Tea would have to do for the caffeine fix.

The tea didn't do much for your fatigue. It was warm, tasted nice, and it felt good to have something in your nearly empty stomach, but you managed to get through to lunchtime, at least. You sigh as the phone rings, not wanting to deal with a last-minute request for a lunch meeting or anything that would add to your workload, and accidentally let the phone ring through. Whoops.

It starts ringing again a moment later, and this time you force yourself to take the call.

"I'm sorry to bother you, DA. I know your lunch break just started, but the mayor has requested a meeting," You bite back a groan at the secretary's message, instead saying they could send the mayor in. You groan after hanging up, though- if it was anyone, literally anyone, else you could've said to claim you're busy and out of the office and that they could make an appointment for later. Yeah, that's not an option when it comes to the mayor.

Of course, the mayor isn't just the mayor; he's Damien, your dearest friend, and usually, you'd happily clear the day for him at the drop of a hat. Today wasn't the usual; you are sick and wanted to steal a quick nap during your lunch break so that you could push through the rest of the day. But, if Damien requests your presence, then your presence is given. There's a knock on the door then, and you prepare yourself before calling out, "Come in!"

Damien comes in, a warm smile on his face, though it falls slightly when he sees your face. He seems to know something is off, even though you had done your best to force a smile before he came in.

"Are you doing well, friend?" Damien asks, voice gentle with concern.

"Just a bit tired is all," you wave off his concern, gesturing for him to come in and sit. No reason to make him stand around; the cane only offers so much support after all.

"I'm sorry to pop in on you without warning. I realized how long it's been since we got to spend time together casually, and I know this is your usual lunchtime, so I figured we could go eat together," Damien sits on the edge of his seat, eyes trained on my face.

"That sounds lovely. Just let me grab my coat," you rise from your seat, having to pause and brace your weight on the desk when a wave of dizziness hits. Well, that's new. Damien is openly concerned now, standing and leaning on his cane as he puts a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

"Are you sure you're well? I wasn't going to say it, but you look awful," you figure you must look really bad for Damien to say something like that. He never says anything negative about your appearance, except for in university when he would be laughing about how terrible you'd look after a good party.

"I'm fine, really, just-"

"This is more than "just tired," you look like you're going to pass out!" Damien's grip leaves your shoulder, and he briefly rests the back of his hand on your forehead. You'd blush at that if your face wasn't already so hot. "You're burning up. What on Earth possessed you to come in today? Get your stuff; we're taking you home this instant,"

"Damien, I can't just leave in the middle of the day. I have work to do!" You protest, blushing as Damien levels you with a stern stare- the kind he uses when his staff acts up and needs to be reprimanded. You've always shuddered just witnessing it, but seeing it could never prepare you for being on the receiving end of it.

"You're just putting your health at risk by staying. How much work will you get done if you end up needing to go to the hospital?"

"Okay, Dames, it's a cold,"

"Colds can become serious if not properly dealt with. Gather your things now. You're taking today and tomorrow off,"

“Tomorrow?” He knows the case you have coming up, the work you have to do, and he thinks you're going to take a day and a half off?

"Tomorrow. Friend, your work will suffer if you aren't well. I know you have that case coming up, and doing this to yourself is just putting that at risk,"

You want to keep protesting, should keep protesting, but Damien is right. You and your work will only suffer if you don't nip this issue in the bud. So, with a deep sigh, you fetch your coat, obediently locking up the office and following Damien down the hall. He pauses to speak to the secretary, informing them you'll be out of the office for the remainder of today and all of tomorrow, on Damien's orders. You're glad Damien doesn't say the truth, that he's forcing you out of work because you're sick. After all, it would be rather embarrassing for the mayor to need to drag an ill district attorney home. Well, it was embarrassing, but only to you, as no one else knew about it.

Damien brought you to where his driver was waiting outside the building, quickly rattling your address off to the driver as you get settled. It isn't too far a drive, you live reasonably close to where you work after all, and soon you're sitting at your own kitchen table as Damien wanders through the kitchen, gradually collecting ingredients and cooking tools as he goes. He's taken off his jacket and vest, eventually rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he starts fusing with some of the ingredients he had gathered.

"Dames, what are you doing?" You ask, "You got me home, you don't have to stay," Damien looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, pausing for only a moment before continuing his quest.

"Friend, you were barely able to walk from the car to your table. There's no way I would just leave you here unattended. Would you even be able to cook for yourself?"

"You don't need to cook for me. I'm fine,"

"When's the last time you ate, then?"

"Dinner last night,"

"And did you actually eat a full meal?"

"Yes?" Damien pauses again, frowning at you, "Fine, no. I couldn't finish it,"

"You need to eat, so I'll cook for you," Damien sets a glass of water in front of you before going to the pot, starting to fill it with water and putting it on the stove.

"Drink that; with your fever, you'll need the hydration," he calls over his shoulder, ignoring your grumbling. The more stubborn part of you is a bit indignant at the treatment- you're an adult, a freaking district attorney, and Damien is instructing you on how to take care of yourself like you don't know any better. The more honest part of you is relishing in the attention because it's Damien taking care of you, sweetly looking out for your health and well being. You drink the water as you watch Damien work. He slowly added things to the pot, having dug up some veggies and herbs that you had nearly forgotten about, and adding those once they're cleaned and cut.

In a half-hour, there's a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you, Damien smiling warmly as he sits at the other side of the table with his own bowl.

"I had to improvise some of the ratios, so I hope it tastes alright," he says, sounding almost nervous. Is he worried you won't like it?

It's definitely one of the better soups you've had, not over seasoned but not bland like most foods made for an upset stomach are. You find yourself smiling as you take another spoonful.

"I didn't know you cooked," you say. The last time you had seen Damien cook was back in university- if that could be called cooking with the less than stellar results of most of his attempts.

"Well, I learned the basics from Celine before she moved in with Mark, but my staff does most of the cooking anymore," Damien explains, starting on his own bowl.

"I owe Celine a thank you. Last time you cooked for me, it's what caused me to be sick," you laugh slightly as you remember that "meal," using the term "meal" loosely, of course.

"In my defense, we were drunk," Damien points out, smiling at the memory. He's only smiling because he wasn't unlucky enough to eat it.

"Yes, and then I was suffering from food poisoning," he laughs fully at that, and you're thankful that at least a funny story came out of your misery. Damien finishes much faster than you do, but he sits with you and entertains with some more reminiscing as you slowly finish the full bowl.

"Why don't you go to your room and get in something more comfortable? I'll tidy up here and will be up in a moment," Damien suggests, standing to take your bowls to the sink.

"Dames, you really don't need to stay,"

"None of that, I always have time to be there for you. Go on upstairs," your protest dies in your throat when Damien briefly rests his hand on top of yours, squeezing gently. Then he's heading back over to the sink, starting the water and rinsing the dishes. You make your way upstairs, changing into a more comfortable outfit, resting on the edge of your bed after the effort of getting upstairs and getting changed. Damien knocks before coming in, always the gentleman, bringing a glass of water with him.

"I really don't need you to supervise me taking a nap," you point out as he sets the glass on your bedside table.

"I won't be supervising; I'm just keeping you company. You get settled in; I have to grab something." Part of you is embarrassed at the idea of Damien sitting with you while you sleep, but the other part of you recognizes the number of things he had seen you do in university and, well, taking a nap beside him was nothing compared to that.

You're laying down, just getting comfortable, when Damien reenters, carrying his briefcase in the hand not occupied by his cane.

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?" He asks, not even resting his hand on the bed until you nod. You glance over at him as he settles in, first noticing he was polite enough to kick off his shoes, then noticing his bare forearms, sleeves still rolled up from preparing lunch. He pulls out a file from the briefcase, starting to read it over while humming something under his breath. Damien's voice is rich and sweet enough when speaking, but his hums are like melted chocolate. You don't even notice how tired and relaxed you are until you're dozing off, asleep in mere minutes.

The sun is setting when you wake up, Damien's silhouette practically glowing with the late afternoon sunlight that hits him from the window. He's buried in another file, pen in hand. His other hand, you notice with surprise, is holding one of yours, thumb idly stroking the back of your hand as he reads, occasionally making a note. Now that you're awake, you should pull away, because this isn't proper- Damien's your friend, and your boss, but he's also so warm, and you're so comfortable, and you never want to let go of his hand. You shift slightly, drawing his attention your way, and you could die from how much affection is held in his smile as he notices you're awake.

"Ah, there's the little monster," he greets, and even though you're awake, he doesn't pull his hand away. You look down at your joined hands, Damien following your gaze- for a second, you swear he's blushing as he pulls away, but it could easily be the lighting.

"I'm sorry about that, you grabbed at my hand while you were asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you," he explains.

"Ah, sorry about grabbing you," you reply, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't apologize, I didn't mind," now that's definitely a blush rising on his face as he realizes what he said. You don't press the topic anymore; it's clear that he's flustered, so you just roll over and reach your arms above your head to stretch. You slowly move to sit, grabbing the water off your bedside table, and taking a long drink.

"Are you hungry? I can heat the soup, or maybe I could make some pasta if your stomach is feeling better,"

"I think I could handle some pasta," you say, Damien nodding and moving to stand up.

"Take your time getting downstairs; it shouldn't take too long to have dinner prepared," Damien says as he packs his files and pen away into his briefcase, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his cane before leaving the room. You take your sweet time stretching and moving to stand. The water is boiling, and Damien is adding pasta to the pot as you get downstairs. True to his word, it doesn't take very long for the noodles to be prepared, Damien adding a bit of butter and a hint of salt and pepper before serving you a plate.

"Hopefully, it isn't too dull a meal, but we don't want to take any chances agitating your stomach even if it's feeling better right now," Damien says. The noodles are, admittedly, very plain, but it's also nice to have something a bit heavier in your stomach, even if it isn't a very exciting meal. There's less conversation this meal- you aren't sure that you fully woke up from your afternoon nap, and Damien seems content with the silence. It's quiet even after you finish, Damien talking and washing your plates as you finish another glass of water.

"Well," Damien starts once the dishes are set in the drying rack, fusing with his cane in a way that betrays discomfort.

"Well?" You question, not having enough context to prompt him further.

"I know it's a bit early, but since you're sick, you probably should be heading to bed soon," he says.

"Right. Would you want to stay the night?" You're not sure where the boldness to ask that question came from, your face burning with a blush as soon as you say it. Damien looks just as embarrassed but, well. He hasn't shut you down, hasn't proclaimed how immoral it is to even suggest that.

And then, "Do you really want me to stay?"

That's not the response you were expecting.

"I'd be happy to have you," while the sentiment was true, it was much bolder than you would usually be.

"Then I'd be happy to stay," your heart melts when he looks at you like that- if you were a little younger, a little more confident and naive, you would call that expression one of love. As it were, you knew better than to call it that, but it made your heart flutter nonetheless.

So, you end up lying on your side in bed, respectfully facing away as Damien removes his shirt and belt and his slacks. It was the only practical way for him to sleep, you had both agreed, but you wouldn't encroach on his privacy and observe as he disrobes. The situation was indecent enough as it is; there was certainly no reason to add to it. You're blushing as the bed dips, the covers shifting a bit as he slides between them.

You reach for the bedside table, turning off the lamp, plunging the room into a darkness that feels almost oppressive. You're hyper-aware of everything- his breathing, your own breathing, the warmth of having another person in the bed, the way the bed moves as Damien shifts. Then, a deep breath.

"Would you," Damien pauses, speaking quietly, "could I hold you?"

That isn't a question you asked a friend, you think, blushing at the implications behind him asking that.

"I wouldn't mind that," you answer, and your voice sounds too loud in the quiet room. There's more shifting then, a hesitant arm resting over your side, and you can tell that Damien hasn't fully settled, posed to pull away at any moment. So, you snuggle back, feeling his chest against your back, sighing as you let yourself relax into his touch. He relaxes a moment later, his arm a comfortable pressure on your side, breath warm where it occasionally brushes your ear. You fall asleep like that, his warmth almost painfully comfortable, and you have a blissfully deep sleep for the first time in ages.

The first thing you notice is how bright the room is, the sun much deeper in the sky than it would usually be when you get up. The next thing you notice is how much better you feel, no traces of nausea and barely tired. Then you notice that your bed is empty, and it's an incredibly disappointing realization that Damien had left while you were sleeping. But, on your bedside table was a glass of water, still cool, and a folded note with your name on it in curling script.

"My dearest,

I am terribly sorry to leave while you're still asleep. Unfortunately, I received an urgent request and had to go into the office earlier than I had been planning, and you needed the rest, so I didn't want to wake you. I left instructions for reheating the soup down in the kitchen, make sure you eat lunch and drink plenty of water. After work today, I will be stopping by check in on you, but you can call me if you need anything. Feel better soon.

Love,

Damien"

He called you his dearest and he signed the note with love, and you’re nearly swooning. You can't count how many times you skim the note, grinning every time your eyes cross his signature. Eventually, you manage to get up- you haven't had a proper day off in forever, and you fully intend to take advantage of it with a proper lazy day. And, at the end of the day, you get to look forward to your dearest, your Damien, coming home to you.

Well, maybe coming down with a cold isn't the worst thing after all.

#fg i hope you like it!#i tried to make it really fluffy #i want to snuggle with damien so bad #fanfiction #my works #mayor attorney #mayor damien #wkm damien #wkm the mayor #wkm the district attorney #y/n district attorney #i usually do first person and kept accidentally typing 'I' so i hope i didnt miss any lol #sick fic #okie i'm going to bed now i hope y'all have a good night #fortunately i was feeling very soft and very inspired today so this didn't take long :)

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pondermoniums · 4 years

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A little post season 3 ficlet (2749 words) featuring some holiday fluff <3 See tags or read on ao3 here ~

• • • •

Billy still feels it. He wishes his muscle memory had died with him, but it just came back with him too.

The things he felt.

The things It felt.

Everything It made him do.

His psychiatrist tries to tell him that his scars are his body claiming his soul back. Billy couldn’t agree. He didn’t like touching the starbursts on his torso because the shiny scar flesh felt tissue-paper thin—not to his fingertips, but underneath. His heart trembled as if he could just push a little too hard, and enter his ribs—

“Hey, the new place opened up off Main Street. You know those new roads they’re building? There’s already a Greek place there. Let’s get a menu.”

Billy frowned at him. Steve Harrington. He’d been at the mall. Billy didn’t remember seeing him…during…but afterward. In the spotty shreds of memory that were all his own, he remembered Steve looking nearly as bad as he felt. The memories swirled together like a circus dream. Steve and…Robin. Her name is Robin…in striped costumes. Steve carried Max away from his body. Robin practically did the same for the girl with a number for a name. All of them glowed with Starcourt neon pink and purple and red.

Steve’s car hummed around them, and fell silent when he turned onto the fresh asphalt of Hawkins’ new road. Steve laughed a little. “Farmer Higgins is probably still fuming. Last thing the mayor did before he got booted out of here was steal land for these businesses.”

“What’s it matter?” Billy exhaled. There were less people in Hawkins to fuel the shady economy anyway.

“Well I can’t speak for your Camaro, but my car doesn’t last long, driving brodies with trees in the way.”

His little sapphire. A dark mixture of humor and apathy seeped into his blood at the memory of Steve Harrington, of all people, slamming into him. He didn’t do it hard enough.

Now he sat in the car Steve drove. Not because the Camaro couldn’t be fixed, but because Billy wasn’t fit to drive yet. Maybe there was something full-circle about it. Or a broken circle; an open-ended thing, like Billy.

“As if you could do a brody.”

Steve smirked. “Thankfully I’ve ruined enough fields for practice.”

And then he pulled right off the road, slipped through a tiny thicket of trees framing the road, and burst upon a dry, yellow field. He turned sharply, throwing Billy against him…until the car locked into a paradox of calm and chaos. The back wheels revolved around them to dig a doughnut in the earth. Steve let the wheel go, and they rocked as the car jerked with the front tires straightening.

Steve looked around them to find the road again and made a mock sound of getting sick. “Glad we didn’t eat first.”

He grinned at Billy, making him realize a smile had stuck on his face like a cramped muscle. He pushed a hand over his mouth, physically melting it off.

The food was good. The flavors shoved their way over his pallet. It was kind of hard to enjoy food now. He ate when his body needed it but he didn’t get the emotional reaction to it—

“I didn’t know we had Greeks in Hawkins,” Steve conversed openly. A small, lost part of Billy remembered Steve calling him out for being mouthy during basketball, but Steve could talk. He wiped his mouth and dug back into his rice plate. “Then again, Robin and Dustin always have something to say about authenticity. Like you spend a day outside of Indiana and you’re worldly.”

“Did you forget where I’m from?” Billy spoke before he meant to. California didn’t seem to matter much any—

“Did you?” Steve tossed back.

Silence fell over their booth while Steve waited. Then he went back to his food when Billy clearly didn’t care about responding.

Over and over again.

Steve picked Billy up.

Hospital.

Food.

Back to Cherry Lane.

Steve talked. Sometimes Billy replied.

Then things began to change. Steve took Billy to the grocery store after Billy’s therapy. Billy had emerged ruddy-eyed liked he smoked a pound of weed, and Steve had merely said, “I’m feeling tacos.”

Only instead of a restaurant, he took them to the store. And then the Harrington house. Billy talked more there.

“No, no, it’s queso fresco.”

“It’s just cheese, though?”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the one who grew up with farmers. Different rain waters different grass. That makes different cows, which make different milk. Do you know anything about breweries?”

“Do you?” Steve challenged while they made a mess of his kitchen counter. Crumbles of white cheese, lettuce, and other tacos toppings littered the fancy granite.

“I know that breweries stay put. Because the water’s different. They have to have the right water to make the right beer. I haven’t had my favorite lager since I moved here.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Billy told him. Billy told him a lot of things. Steve just…got a rise out of him the way his therapist couldn’t. Then again, Steve never asked about all the things Billy wanted to burn out of his brain.

Then Cherry Lane fell off the list. Billy couldn’t say how exactly he moved into Harrington’s house. Maybe the food flowed into Billy falling asleep, and starting the next day from Steve’s house just happened too many times. Maybe Max used Steve’s pool too many times. Maybe it was when Billy realized Steve wasn’t just driving him to his physical and mental therapy sessions.

He walked out of the physical therapy gym at the back of the hospital to meet Steve in the same lobby they parted ways in. But Steve wasn’t there. Billy asked the nearby receptionist if “the guy with the hair” had gotten lost to the bathroom, but she only replied, “He’s running a little overtime, but he should be on his way.”

Billy’s appointments took hours. It made sense for Steve to leave and come back—

But the elevator dinged, and Steve was too busy reading something to not walk into a passing nurse. “Oh! Ow—sorry! Sorry,” he exclaimed, holding his arm…

He rolled the shoulder of that arm on the way through the parking lot, swinging the arm round and around like he was warming up for tennis. Inside the car, Billy cornered, “What were you doing in there?”

Steve glanced at him but shrugged as he turned the ignition. “Blood work. An IV drip. MRI’s. My usual stuff. The drip took longer this time.”

“Usual stuff? How come I’m just now hearing of this?”

“Remember, Robin used to meet us here? She got cleared faster.”

“Cleared out of what? How are you more broken than she was?”

Steve stared at him for an unnerving minute. “They…kind of beat the shit out of me. So… I mean, you pack a wallop, but Russians with an agenda put you to shame.”

Billy suddenly wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary. Steve just talked so much, and took whatever Billy gave him without flinching that he never considered…

“Getting concussed and doped up with unknown chemicals isn’t everyone’s normal Thursday.”

Billy had forgotten that Steve had been through shit like this before. Not with the same variables, but… “I forget that your normal got thrown out the window before I got here.”

“It’s not a competition,” Steve tried to say lightly. He waved a hand in front of the vents as if their lingering in the parking lot was just to wait for the heating to kick on.

“And if it is, who’d win?”

“Oh, I think Will Byers has us beat.”

That…hit differently than Billy expected. A laugh burst out of him, like it had just been waiting for a weight to lift off of him to break free. “Yeah. Maybe he does.”

Then they went to Steve’s house, where more and more of Billy’s clothes had accumulated. The kitchen had been stocked with food bought from Steve’s wage and Billy’s top-secret government allowance—which turns out, was rather high. Steve, for all his fancy furniture and basically bottomless bank account thanks to his parents, had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Billy finally revealed the monthly check to him.

“Holy shit. Don’t let the nerds see that; they’ll siphon quarters out of you for the arcade.”

“They’re old enough to want beer and condoms.”

Steve scoffed as he flipped their dinner pancakes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’ll sooner pop their cherries than go for beer.” Then he grimaced and waved his spatula. “New subject! Change the subject.”

Billy laughed from the breakfast bar, where he was arranging his medication into a days-of-the-week organizer. It was just a bar of little snap-closed boxes, but it helped him keep track of the pills he took—and the ones he ignored.

Steve had asked him once, “Why do you always leave the red ones?”

“They turn me into a vegetable.”

“Oh. You can’t, like…split it in half? Half vegetable?”

Billy couldn’t say why he felt comforted by Steve’s uniquely clueless way of thinking. Perhaps the guy actually made sense, or maybe he just over-simplified things in an over-complicated world.

Now, though, he set the spatula down with the announcement, “Oh! I got you something. Well, I hope I got the right stuff.”

Billy didn’t go with him to the garage, but he did follow Steve with his eyes. Blue irises locked onto the shockingly familiar box of lager when Steve returned. “Where in the hell did you find that?”

That dopey, thrilled grin made Steve glow like the Christmas lights they’d thrown all over the open floor plan. “Dude, there are professional shoppers! I mean, that makes each can like…a twenty-dollar beer, and this is the only box I got, but this is the stuff you were talking about, right? The lady on the phone said they released other flavors, but you only said ‘lager,’ so it’s what I got.”

The cans were practically frozen from being in the garage, but Billy tore open the box as well as he could to pry one out. “I don’t think I’ve been given the okay for alcohol.”

“We can water it down.”

“You don’t water down beer!”

“Then split one with me. I’ve chilled glasses somewhere…”

He went digging in the freezer drawer and pulled out plastic wine glasses. Billy snorted as he accepted one. “This is so cheap.”

“Yeah well, even mom’s fancy bimbo friends break wine stems around the pool. Gimme that.”

Billy appreciated that Steve made it sound greedy, instead of pitiful. Billy had trouble with his hands.

The can snapped open with a satisfying metallic crack. Billy teased as Steve poured, “Is this your first rodeo? Look at all that foam.”

“We’ve got time. The pancakes are almost done.”

Billy pushed his pill organizer aside to rest his chin on his arms, listening to carbonation sizzle while he watched Steve’s shoulder blades move under his sweatshirt.

“When do you get cleared for pot?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be officially cleared for that—hey, hey!”

Steve had turned around, leaning back against the counter with a pancake in his hand and a full cheek. “Whuh?”

“You’re eating my dinner! Dump the skillet over a plate and get over here!”

Steve came around to sit on the stool next to him with a pancake in his mouth and—

“Are those my slippers?”

“You mean my slippers that I hadn’t worn yet? Yeah, I took them back,” Steve retorted.

Billy successfully knocked one off his foot. “They still had the tags when I got to them. So dibs.”

Steve kicked the other slipper into the living room. “No dibs if you don’t have both.”

“You’re wearing my sweatpants. I get your slippers.”

“I get your beer and you get my pancakes.”

“Not if you eat all of them! Syrup, now,” Billy demanded with a grabby hand gesture.

Steve disintegrated into giggles that made him sound as much like a little kid as movie heartthrob. He finished pouring and passed the bottle.

So it went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

First Steve took Billy’s time. The minutes that built into hours driving to and from the hospital. Then Billy ate his food. Steve covered the restaurant tabs until they switched to cooking at his house. Steve washed his clothes and wore them like his own. Billy took Steve’s car keys and drove for the first time with Steve practically hostage all the way to the tree farm.

“I didn’t take you for a real tree kind of person.”

“You have the ceiling space for a nine-foot tree.”

“How the hell are we hauling a nine-foot tree?” Steve practically blanched. “And with what car?” He adjusted his earmuffs because he’d rather be caught dead than wear a proper hat. Billy, meanwhile, strolled through the greenery and the first snowflakes spitting from the sky with leisurely ease in his beanie.

He laughed, “I like how you’re not saying no.”

Steve didn’t do much to hide his mimicry as he trudged behind Billy, who chuckled to himself. “For once it actually smells nice. The trees really cover up the cow shit of—oh my god, there are actual cows.”

A line of tables displayed other living decorations like wreaths and garlands, but beyond them was a field of black and red cattle. Billy moved under a line of wreaths hanging over their heads to see how they actually had blankets on their backs. “Are the cow jackets norm—”

Steve caught his mouth in a quick, firm kiss. The sound of their lips parting echoed in Billy’s ears. Steve’s fingers lifted off his jaw to touch something noisy above their heads. Billy dumbly looked up to see the tiny bells interwoven with a mistletoe wreath. “Careful. We have real mistletoe here. Not whatever plastic California has.”

He left Billy stupefied, having the audacity to stroll away with a whistle on his lips before Billy snapped out of it and nearly tackled him. “OW! Agh, fu-shit, Jesus—”

“You’re better about planting your feet,” Billy breathed against Steve’s earmuff. He held Steve’s arms trapped against his body.

“Are you always this mean when someone kisses you?” he strained in Billy’s tight grip. The gravel under their boots grit and rattled as Billy dragged Steve deeper into the trees. “Alright! I should’ve asked! I’m sorry—”

Steve might’ve stolen the first kiss, but Billy shoved him into a tree and took it back. He took Steve’s cold shock against his lips, until hot breath warmed them up between nervous stares. Then Billy took his lips, his tongue, the taste of the mint brownies Steve ate on the way here. The cold tip of Steve’s nose pushed into his cheek, and Billy’s heart felt fragile against the softness of Steve’s mouth.

His breath trembled as he asked, “Why did you do that?”

Why do you give me rides? Give me food? Why do you cook every night? Why did you give me a bedroom? Will you let me into yours?

Steve’s arms around his waist moved, tightening a little but also moving up Billy’s spine as if to comfort him. To anchor them together. Steve swallowed, and the fragility in his eyes made Billy’s throat hurt. “I didn’t get to the first time.”

Billy couldn’t stand it. He pushed Steve’s earmuffs off in his effort to press his face against Steve’s neck. To absorb the delicious little sound that escaped him when Billy’s cold nose found the warm pocket inside his collar.

Billy didn’t think he’d be able to kiss anyone ever again.

Not after…

But all he wanted was to keep Steve’s lips on him. To steal him away like some fairytale winter troll and either keep him or devour him if he tried to leave.

“Billy?” His name was muffled against his own scarf, so tightly did Steve hold onto him.

But if Steve was taking…maybe Billy could let himself be stolen again.

“When we’re home…” he sniffled on his way back up to standing on his own. “Kiss me again.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Billy laughed through his tears. “No, you’re buying me the biggest tree your car can carry. And I’ll steal that wreath while they’re distracted.”

“You have the money to buy it!”

“That’s no fun.”

#harringrove #pondermoniums #stolen #ficlet #one shot #holiday fluff #snowy kisses #post s3 #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN SERIES : EPISODE TWENTY-TWO PREVIEW