#hes a force of nature when hes not actively bleeding out and starving

[semisolidmind]

I love how no matter what ,your reader always has her scary dog privilege no matter the fandom, the fact that this time is an actual dog though —

loyal to his savior. it's only fair that he return the favor.

(i can't help it dude, i have a type when it comes to relationships. i want the big scary one to protect the smaller not scary one. and it would only make sense that after everything he's been through, he'd use his regained strength to protect the peace he's found with the one who's saved him.)

[cldhrbour]

just thinking about serana's powers and how powerful she is. yes being a vampire lord helps , but even prior to being changed , i think she was on her way to be a powerful caster. the family structure strikes me as harkon being a fighter-type while valerica serves as more of a wizard-type , and with a closer relationship in general with valerica there was likely expectation she'd follow in her steps. she was studying under her mother , in addition to any normal tutelage under personal educators within the lordship.

she had a natural affinity for necromancy , as her mother did and she had interest in learning destruction magic but never got to do so because the focus of the family began to shift more towards gaining molag bal's attention. only when they're gifted vampirism is she able to practice her casting again , and leans in to a more ice-focused destruction. obviously the rest of her powers were supplemented by her new undead state. most of the specifics below are inspired by this mod - however something to keep in mind is how powerful vampire lords are but unless provoked , serana typically isn't pulling out all the stops. in fact , it will likely be rarely seen until her final battle with her father because she knows that he has the same strength as she does.

magical powers

ice magic ,.., her preferred form of spellcasting , serana is usually seen in battle surrounded by ice and snow in one way or another. most typically she'll form a dagger of ice and use it in close combat since she can be very mobile on a battlefield with her vampirism. however , if she's told control a crowd , then her spells take a form of storms or barriers of sharp ice. if she has the time , she'll also create shields of ice if a companion seems like they're about to get hit. in rare cases , she'll get a little creative by creating forms of transportation with it ( like bridges or inclines ) so that her friends can move around easily or get to places they couldn't've otherwise. a visual of this would be how sypha casts from castlevania.

necromancy ,.., thanks to her mother and her vampirism , serana is very skilled in the undead or anything in passing death. most often she'll raise corpses to aid her in fights. she can also drain life from someone via touch and replenish her own well , or just spread death with her touch. this will usually just look like accelerated aging until someone is no more than dust. again , used very often in combat and she's highly skilled at it. serana can raise lesser creatures with ease , like animals or people , and given a few additional seconds of time and effort on her part she can also raise larger creatures and beasts. after meeting durnehviir , she does have the goal to eventually be able to raise a dragon from the dead should the need arise and visits him often to learn.

vampiric powers

blood magic ,.., a very similar type of magic to her necromancy , serana does have a close relationship with blood itself. she doesn't use it as much , but if she's close to starving ( or if an enemy is particularly frustrating ) and if someone is wounded or actively bleeding , serana can pull that life force from its source and take it on herself , drinking it to gain strength. if she doesn't need it to feed , she can create a spike or dagger from it and use it to impale her enemies.

bats ,.., a simple term , but not only can serana take on the form of a flying fox bat , she also has close relationships with bat creatures. she can call them in a time of need in order to blind opponents , to confuse them or to protect her if she's mortally injured. her own bat form is usually used for reconnaissance and stealth. if she needs to see a situation and assess its danger level. in some instances , she will also transform into a bat if she's injured and tired , this way the smaller body can heal a bit quicker than her mortal form.

mist form ,.., most often used as a means of teleporting , serana's body can turn into formless mist. she not only can take no injury ( and cause no harm ) like this , she can also use it similarly to the above bat form in a stealth manner. when she is shifting across a fight , it will look to most mortals as a misty , dark form. one moment she's there , the next she's somewhere else.

enthrall ,.., vampire lords have a natural 'charm' to them in order to lower defenses of mortal creatures and potential prey. this is more subtle than a full on 'enthrall' which is more akin to "charm person" where the vampire is actively utilizing their powers of the mind and making someone more malleable to suggestion. many vampire lords use this as a way to keep a thrall with them at all times in order to feed , others can use it to rise to power and more with some creativity. serana is most often utilizing this as a way to get information or to ease someone's emotions if she feels she needs to. when it comes to her natural 'charm' , the closer she gets to someone , the more likely she'll mention it to them , understanding the risk of them being turned off by it or becoming potentially angry. understand that this isn't necessarily something she can control , it's almost like a natural pheromone that allows a predator to feed more easily. if you've read salem's lot , it's exactly that. something that neither predator nor prey can control or control their reaction to.

domination ,.., this is a mix of telekinesis and a stronger form of the above. domination doesn't allow for any control of the mind other than what the vampire lord wants. they own every part of you. where enthrall can leave someone numb and unresponsive or have no feeling whatsoever ( because it was more of a suggestion or making someone placate to demands ) this particular power they are completely aware but can't do anything about it. there is a voice in their head and they become simply a receiver and speaker of that voice. with that control , a vampire can lift the mortal and manipulate them as they see fit. their body is not their own nor is their mind. this is something entirely gifted by molag bal , the prince of domination. as far as serana and how she uses it , she will never think of using it on people she is close to. this is only for fighting purposes , usually on lesser beings. many times , and most simply , she's getting into the mind of someone and telling them to end their own lives.

vampiric lord form ,.., when things are looking rough , or if she needs to move in a way that her speed/mist form won't allow for , serana will transform into a bi-pedal beastly bat. standing at about 8 feet tall , with leathery wings , a bat-like face with a collar of fur around her neck , this form can take on many creatures , especially ones airborne. she also will use it in dire times of need where maybe someone is falling or to fly them to safety from a rather precarious situation. this form can teleport in a cloud of smaller bats. in most storylines , serana doesn't use this form until it's clear who and what she is amongst the people she's traveling with , in order not to scare them. she's in full control in this form , it is still her , and she can change at will.

flames of coldharbour ,.., gifted from the plane of coldharbour itself , these flames are not ordinary fire , but those of where serana was reborn. blue and purple in color , these flames burn hotter and melt most things almost instantly. serana has to call to the prince himself for these flames , and most often is gifted them without question. this very often has the volkihar clan thinking that she is favored amongst the others who have been christened by their god. either these flames will be used as many other fire-based powers are with a ball being shot at her enemy , or if she's surrounded , serana can have them shoot out from her at the center in a large sphere or wall of brilliant blue.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it. 

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them. 

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

[katsukikitten]

Irritated part 5

A/N I had to split this chapter for tumblr so have part V early while I work on VI

A heavy rock song rings out in the dead silence of the room. Pulling a growl from two opposing bodies. Bakugou's growl lasts to the chorus as he curls into the body in front of him. Pressing his forehead into the cool and smooth skin of the person beside him, shrinking in an attempt to hide from his alarm. The person relaxes at his heated breath, both parties starved of physical affection. Emotions were exhumed this morning, ones that were thought to be long forgotten suddenly burning in the too bright sun.

Suddenly the two of you jump simultaneously as if shocked. Pops of explosions dance over deadly fingers as items begin to rise around you.

You both hold each other's gaze, like two big cats following the same prey, before he stops activating his quirk and items float gently back into place.

You blush when you see what he is wearing, biting your lip when you see a certain outline. Your cheeks flush further when you remember what you're wearing. Low light paints people in more gentle tones, the sunlight beams heavily past the partially drawn curtain highlighting the harshness that is Bakugou.

Maybe he thinks the same of you.

He tilts his head and cuts you with his gaze.

"We never fucking speak of this again." He says swiping the air as if dismissing it all. His alarm breaks the silence between you two, easing some of the tension as he slams his fist against his phone.

"Get dressed Princess. We're gonna be late with how long you take." He growls, motioning towards the sliding glass door as he makes his way towards the shower. You follow him with heated eyes.

"First off I don't really take that fucking long." You lash out, angry for whatever reason that he provokes, last night clearly dying with the moonlight, "You're impatient Bakuou!"

He stops next to you, harden shoulder bumping harshly into yours. He wants to grab you by the throat, to push you against the wall if anything to feed his dominant desire to tame the brat that is you.

But he saw the way you recoiled from his sudden touch before.

"Keep your voice down. When I have women screaming my name it sounds much more pleasant than that. Now get. Out."

"Fuck off." You snarl with flushed cheeks as your insides twist and boil.

Stop bragging about previous conquests is what you want to scream but you bite the inside of your lip instead.

Why did it matter to you who he's fucked? Who he has woken up with and snuggled close to? Why did it fucking matter?

Well it didn't.

You climb over the three feet between the two balconies, scraping your knees along the rough concrete before righting yourself to stare into the ominous room.

Had someone broken in? Worse yet were they still there if they had? You ease the sliding glass door open silently. Slinking in like a cat and feeling for anything organic within the bedroom, bathroom and even the closet.

When your search of the dead space in the textured four walls comes up empty you sigh with relief, shoulders literally sagging away the tension as you begin to gather a fresh suit from your bag heading for the bathroom.

Until the sunlight bounces off something that is placed on your still made bed atop the pillows.

You hadn't remembered any stupid mints being laid out in your room or in Bakugou's for that matter so when you approach to get a closer look your body seizes.

You fight the scream that roars up your throat as you shake, struggling and falling to restrain yourself as your eyes take in the horror.

A belly button ring with a dangling gem in forest green, a doll's eye that mirrors your own stunning eye color and a note smiles smugly at you.

You huff and puff as you snatch the note from the bed. The words burning into your retinas as you almost hear the voice in your ear.

*"You'll be with me soon. In the meantime wear this for me? I'd love to see it peaking through your suit."*

Your hand flies to your belly button ring now with a black gem, your fingers curl around it quickly and you pull until a small arch of blood follows in its wake. Your breath is labored as you stare at the items, the belly button ring on the pillow shatters as does the TV as you shake with rage.

Finally you stop vibrating and force yourself to move to get ready. Barely able to stomach the thought of how irritating Bakugou is going to be today and the last thing you needed was another parasite crawling under your skin. You shower quickly although you want to scrub your skin raw as you think of that man rummaging through your items, taking the time to write some freakish note onto the hotel stationary before leaving.

You imagine him doing what you caught that asshole doing on the night that almost ruined everything. Sitting upright in your bed hugging onto your pillow, an unwashed hero suit on his exposed lap now covered with several milky stains as he waited for you.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as it replayed over and over and fucking over again.

"FUCKING PATHETIC!" You scream at your reflection. Blaming her for all the misfortune that has come your way. You bring your fist back and slam it hard into the glass cheek causing the mirror to reflect a number of you.

But this does not stop you and you slam your fist over and over into the glass until nothing but glue and old unpainted drywall stares back at you. You huff, having hoped the physical exertion would ease your racing mind. But if anything the glass shards protruding from your skin provoked you further.

You do not regret ripping out your belly button ring as you slide into your suit, careful to avoid agitating the now sensitive skin. Dressing quickly so you can properly address your bleeding knuckles that are currently wrapped with a hand towel. The gauze in your bag is easy to find, switching it for the hand towel bloomed with red hastily as you think you hear one of your neighbors emerging from their room. It is a poor wrap job but something is better than nothing as you hear foot steps stop at your door.

You open it with cold eyes just as Deku was about to knock lightly.

"Ah Y/N!" He sounds startled and looks well rested, "Are you ready for today? We have back to back interviews and q&as."

"As ready as I'll ever fucking be for this bullshit." You growl pushing past the chipper man to start your, hopefully, final day in hell.

Your mood soured quickly although that seemed like an impossibility. Yet here you were arms crossed over your chest as you were guided backstage by your two coworkers. Bakugou spies coffee and sugared pastries as he makes he way to the table. Actively avoiding you the best he can. He stares down at the two iced coffees looking perfectly blended that sit along side breakfast sweets. He wondered if he shared this favorite thing with you too. His hand hovers over the second coffee, glancing over his shoulder, debating if he should bring it to you. Images of last night rush to the forefront of him mind.

*"Please stay Katsuki."*

His heart pounds in his chest.

*"We never fucking speak of this again."*

His own voice haunts him as he snatches a chocolate croissant sipping on his coffee. Thinking better of taking you breakfast it's not like he was your fucking boyfriend or anything. Hell could you guys even be called frenemies? He isn't certain anymore. He hates that he can no longer label you as *just* irritating, loathsome, or annoying that new adjectives have popped onto that list.

Adjectives like alluring, soft, sexy.

A vein pops in his forehead as he watches you talk to Izuku. He looks worried, probably asking you if you're alright and you look mad. As if Izuku was the cause. He watches your bandaged hand gesture as you speak with heated eyes. He sips his coffee, you hadn't had this mysterious injury last night nor did you have it this morning before you left his room. He thought he heard thumping coming from your direction this morning but he wasn't sure as he was blasting music to get the sound of your voice out of his head.

Izuku pulls you into a hug and you look stunned, pretty face pressed agaisnt a harden chest. The croissant begins to be reshaped with deep grooves as the chocolate melts from suddenly heated air. He looks down at the smushed pastry with a grimace before tossing it in the trash.

"Oi." He steps close to the two of you, coffee still in hand, "No time for you love birds to kiss face. We start soon morons."

"Shove it Bakagou." You snarl, shoving past him hard enough that his coffee tries to slosh past the lid.

Hot ember eyes stare after you.

"This isn't helping her turn her day around. She's clearly upset." Izuku scolds as he walks past his childhood friend.

××××××

You sit beneath the harsh lights, sweat from their heat collects on the nape of your neck mixing with the irritation you have for the man that sits to your left.

Why the fuck where the three of you collected on a love seat as if this were someone's living room and yall were having a fucking chat over tea?!

You hated that most about interviews but right now you hated most how Bakugou was touching you.

His arms are crossed, arms long enough that even leaning away his elbows dug into your bicep.

Or maybe the damn love seat was too fucking small for three people.

Worst of all he was scowling over the crowd avoiding questions as best he could.

Izuku on the other hand has greatly improved on his interview skills, so much so you've come to rely on him to speak with the media.

I guess Bakugou has come accustomed to it too.

Unfortunately you begin to naturally mimic Bakugou's body language as the interview drones on.

Stupid questions about previous missions, "back stage info" and dissecting WHY he liked Katsudon so much.

"Its just always been my favorite meal that my mother made." He smiles warmly at the memory and the women in the audience swoon.

"Bakugou your favorite meal?"

"Spicy." Is his one word reply and you roll your eyes.

"Well Y/LN. We haven't heard much from you but I have to ask the question everyone has been dying to know." The host smiles from ear to ear leaning closer as if he had a secret to share.

"Are you dating anyone?"

You pause for a moment.

Was this bitch fucking SERIOUS. You want to hold back, need to hold back but you're irritated.

Angry and at the fucking world. He just happened to leave an opportunity for you to let go, especially since you've answered this question before.

"In the past forty minutes of this interview that was the only question you could think of for me?" The host blinks slowly as if stunned before leaning back. Attempting to regain his composure. Deku gives you a small nudge that you choose to ignore.

"W..well it was the most fan voted question!" He retorts but little did he know you saw the Twitter polls this morning on your walk over.

"Oh is that so? It's funny because the most fan voted question for *me* was if I used my quirk to get ready in the morning. You know like levitate my hairdryer. Sometimes, is the answer by the way." You turn to the audience for the answer before returning to the host, "That question you asked me was meant for *Bakugou*"

He visibly begins to sweat, a cat smile forms on your face as you watch him squirm.

"You just knew I would have a better chance of answering that again before Bakugou ever admitted if he had someone in his life or not." You laugh and it echos back to you with a hint of cruelty, "Hell Bakugou would commit seppuku before he *ever* admitted to any emotions aside from rage."

People in the audience agree and the host blanches before the timer dings.

"W...well that's all for today folks. Don't forget the Q&A with the top three heroes and more later this evening. In that portion, you the fans will be voting live and having some time to ask face to face with your hero!" The crowd erupts with cheer as you stand abruptly.

More than done with this bullshit.

Izuku follows you quickly, Bakugou's steps are stunned.

I guess that was how people saw him huh?

"Really?!" Izuku for once loses his temper with you, well if you could even call it that. He takes a deep breath before reining himself in

"Why would you say any of that?" His tone comes out as a disappointed dad and you sigh audibly.

"Its not like she lied or said anything untrue." Bakugou chimes in arms crossed staring at you.

"See even Bakuhoe thinks it's okay."

"Watch it."

"Fuck off yea?" You snarl with venom that for once actually stings, Bakugou takes a step for you. Large palm outreached.

He has a lot of questions for you and if the only way to get the answers was to beat the shit out of each other then so be it.

"Stop!" Izuku steps between yall, huffing with redden cheeks, "Neither of you were helpful during this interview! And yall were doing so well what happened?!"

Both of your minds flash to last night. Your weak, sleep laden voice echoing.

*"Please stay Katsuki."*

"FUCK!" You hiss, pulling at your hair as you turn away. Both men look to you and your abnormal behavior.

Sure you've lost your temper, been irritated or straight up pissed.

But never....distressed.

Izuku swallows what little anger he felt, maybe it was more annoyance than anything as a gloved hand reaches out to you.

But it never makes it.

"Katsuki, Izuku and Y/N!" A sharp toothed smile approaches, "I've been looking all over for you three!"

"What do you want shit hair?" He snarls before Kirishima smiles wider, so used to his abrasiveness. He spies you and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm starving and fate demands that we have lunch!" He squeezes you closer and you smile widely as ruby red winks.

He is your new partner in crime after all.

The four of you eat order far too much food. Kirishima helps to lighten your mood and ease the tension with you and Bakugou again.

Even daring you to steal his fries while looking him in the eye.

You do, as does a cat when they knock picture frames off of shelves. Katsuki retaliates by snatching your last chicken nugget that he dramatically savors.

You laugh aloud, suddenly forgetting your problems in the middle of the fast food restaurant.

But the feeling couldn't last long enough.

[gcldenchild]

let it be known that goldie is not okay by any stretch of the imagination. 

as shown in the ask post, he has some serious mental health issues. his most pressing? his suicidal tendencies and thoughts. this covers how those came to be, and how they’ve affected him throughout his life.

to say that he’d always dealt with it is inaccurate, but it certainly has been persistent for a good portion of his life, even before the attempt at transmutation.

at first, it was only the thoughts. they were minor, of course. after his mom died and he and al were truly left orphaned, ed had wondered if it was because he existed that their dad left. hohenheim was crying in that one photo they had together, after all. it always stuck at the back of his mind, and thus began the fantasizing in order to somehow justify what had happened to him and his brother.

he grew a mild fascination with death. constantly envisioning what it would’ve been like if he’d never been born- or died before he could damage his parents relationship somehow- and how al would’ve lived afterwards.

how al would’ve felt having a normal family to take care of him for his whole childhood, instead of it being completely taken away when he was only four. 

part of it stemmed from an inherent longing to see his mother again in some fashion, twisted into childlike fantasies where he’s the one to die first and watches on from whatever kind of heaven he’d go to, reunited when the rest of his family passed on. peacefully.

he didn’t want to deal with grief anymore, but he couldn’t deny his true reality. their mother was gone, their shithead father was nowhere to be seen, and the house was unbearably lonely. things began to get overwhelming. he’d begun to grow slightly delirious in his study of alchemy. 

most of it is masked as enthusiasm. it becomes a subconscious habit to talk about alchemy with a fake sense of determination, in order to fool the people around him into believing he wasn’t losing his mind understanding the greater world of science ahead of him, with every single word he’d read swirling around in his brain as he attached it all to the fading face of his father.

yock island, though instilling a certain lesson, does intense damage to his psyche. it was the first time he’d started to grow uncomfortable with his own fascinations. at this point, it wasn’t his own life at stake- it was al’s, too. he’d already started losing it by studying things for days on end, but nearly starving to death with his brother really put things into perspective. 

he learned the meaning of all is one and one is all, but the cost could not be justifiable. not when a pool of fear stirred in his gut constantly, him finally aware of the true nature behind all his “harmless” fantasies. 

he tried to shut them out. to ignore them. and then izumi had to go and warn them to never commit the taboo of human transmutation. 

something broke in ed the day he even suggested that they try to find a way to crack human transmutation. so much had grown. he’d barely been able to get up that morning. even still, he acted like everything was normal. like he wasn’t struggling to even stand, being crushed under the weight of his spiraling, pent up emotions and thoughts.

he just talks with al, and something in him just... breaks. completely. he can’t bear the weight of it all anymore, and he finally talks, from the darkest recesses of his soul.

“i think we could bring mom back.”

he wishes al could’ve known better. he regrets ever saying those words, ever pushing his brother to help him with it all, ever placing his hands on that transmutation circle. 

for a brief moment, he feels like he dies. it’s almost satisfying, to him. and then he wakes up in the fucking gate, truth taking his leg as payment. and then- the fucking thing they brought to life, for the cost of al’s whole body and his leg. it spits blood, reaches out at him, and he has to literally resist the urge to retch and let himself bleed out.

he only continues for al. to get al back. al didn’t deserve this. he was only ten, damnit. 

it gets worse. he screams during his automail surgery, ranting about anything he can think of, trying to keep himself breathing. trying to push through it all for alphonse. everything is boiling over, and he can’t handle it. 

he slowly begins to develop anger as a protective shield. it’s the only way he’s able to shut everything in his head up. the only time it begins to boil over to a point he can’t control is when he can’t bring himself to be angry.

ed still cared for other people, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. he still does good things out of his own natural moral code. unfortunately, though, being that nice? it actively hurt him, because it lets the chaos spiraling in his stomach return. he’d barely be able to get up the next day without a solid thirty minutes of extra “sleep.”

his naps become ways for him to cope with the hellish cacophony. it’s just so much easier to yell and not acknowledge the fact that people want to help him, no matter how much he may need it. 

when nina happens, the nightmare that follows- although not the first of its kind- is one of the only ones to render him inconsolable upon waking. he can’t just go back to sleep, but he can’t talk, either. he has to sit through it, with his heightened breath, the heavy feeling in his chest practically choking him the entire time.

he shuts people out. he shuts his own brother out. the normal facade serves its purpose well.

when scar almost kills him, he is pained to say that the conflict in his head is wildly disproportionate.

living for al’s sake is outclassed by the want to die.

it’s the first example of his thoughts breaking out from their prison. he was ready to accept death, above all else. and then al punches him for being stupid. with everything having already snapped, he can only respond as if he were a deer in headlights, unable to truly comprehend the situation.

things just get worse. and worse. and worse. he can’t cope with it all. his anger keeps exploding, trying to protect him from himself. to keep him from going through with some of those thoughts and just sacrificing himself to get his own brother’s body back, as if the world would be better off without him.

to an extent, he was convinced it would. he never acted upon it consciously, however.

ed would never make a direct attempt. he’d do stupidly self-sacrificial things sometimes, yes, but he’d never try to kill himself outright. he wouldn’t want al to see- al had already had enough death in his life, and ed didn’t want to burden him with both his own death and the fact he was his own murderer at once.

this doesn’t stop the fantasies from getting worse. though. nor does it stop him from looking at himself in the mirror, hallucinating both the feel and sight of choking himself. (not like that would be the only way, though, of course. he’d imagined so many, over and over, and they played in his head constantly.)

he thinks about it so, so much. al is the only thing to keep him grounded. his little brother is the only being that grounds him.

it doesn’t stop him from doing things to harm himself, though. when he’s alone, he finds himself knocking against the side of his own head hard or pulling on his hair to intentionally cause pain. his head becomes sensitive, but only because hes desperate to do anything to drown everything out.

one could even find scratch marks along his arm from when he gripped onto it too hard during one of his fits, paired with the tips of his automail having a sharper edge. he hates letting people see those, but at least they’re faint. he can play them off as simple wounds from getting into a fight. the bruises are a different story, but its not as if he cant make something else up to explain them.

he panics when people see through his facade, and retaliates with even worse anger. he goes on the attack like a caged animal because deep down, he WANTS help. it’s just hard for him to even receive it before he’s been completely, utterly broken for that day.

being separated from al is debilitating.

even though he knows that alphonse can handle himself, it still does not change the fact that he’s become unhealthily dependent on him. al is his entire reason for living, and being far from that tether eats away at what composure he has left.

when he’s impaled, he wasn’t even sure if what he was going to do would even work. to envision himself as a philosopher’s stone? he’d never had that sort of a handle on his own soul before.

as he’d seen with envy, though, the yelling of everything inside him, screaming to be let out perfectly matched the stones of the homunculi. ed saved his own life, only letting himself live for alphonse, wherever he may have gone.

the months of being separated are fucking torture.

or, at least, they are, for only a while. by the time he was in alenthaal, ed had grown ... unnaturally hopeless. even though he looked fine, almost everyone in town saw through his mask.

luitumi is the one to break him first.

“edward?” “yeah, whats up, luitumi?” “you don’t need to pretend anymore.”

he’s completely dumbfounded. she attacks him right at his core. naturally, he puts up his shield, trying to force her out. to get her away from his problems. and then she fucking takes his normal hand, squeezes it, and looks at him with those unwavering glass eyes, and he breaks. 

it’s all let out at once. every thought swirling around manifests as panicked crying, yelling, whining- really, anything he can verbalize. he says “you don’t know anything,” and she shuts him up completely by saying “i wouldn’t be talking to you if i didn’t, edward.”

she doesn’t destroy his shield. she takes the other route of forcing him to put it down.

ed still doesn’t remember a lot from that day, other than the feeling of being hugged by multiple people at once. the entirety of team lazarus.

emotionally drained, he can barely get up the next day, too. but instead of suffering through it by himself, he can feel a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him through it. 

he’d fallen asleep inside the living room, and lucaun and carson were waiting for him the next morning. luitumi was making food with yularosá, and cobalt was talking with heinkel and darius and greed.

it’s ... sickeningly domestic.

and yet, it wasn’t something he’d experienced since mom died. he hadn’t felt this familial safety since then, not even at the rockbell house. luitumi had broken down his walls in a single night, most likely fueled by whatever emotions charity had been able to pick up on, and now the rest of the people who could be considered “friends” in this fucking town are doing what they can to help.

talking with any of them about his feelings becomes mandatory. they don’t give him a choice, and for some reason, he can’t bring himself to fight it. the better part of him knows that he needs it.

at first, its twice a day. usually luitumi and lucaun handle it. cobalt and carson deal with his constantly presenting daddy issues, though. carson knew the feeling of growing up with a dad who didn’t love him (and, initially, no dad at all), and cobalt knew the feeling of fucking hating his own father. 

his need for a parental figure slowly dies down. cobalt will never be a father to him, just like mustang, but he’s okay with that. cobalt doesn’t have any legal standing over him unlike the colonel, and he’s a lot more fucking comfortable with that.

cobalt doesnt have to pretend like he’s a father in any capacity for ed. what he does is out of his own heart, not because he sees ed as a ward.

at least, that’s what ed believes. and he likes it like that. people not pretending to be things they aren’t helps him shut away that one need.

it moves to once a day. he trails them a lot. his attachment issues come into presence, but they keep reminding him that its okay to need someone. slowly but surely, he’s able to deal with being left alone, though not for very long.

it moves to every other day. his thoughts are a lot less loud than he remembers them being. 

it moves to only twice a week. the first time ed doesn’t artificially smile is for their christmas and new years celebrations, when luitumi drags him into the dancing circle with her. the whole thing reminds him of some of the celebrations they used to have in resembool in the summer. he says he’s not a good dancer, but luitumi doesn’t care. he lets her take the lead for the start, and just like everything else in his life, he learns fast. 

he finally begins smiling, completely free of his thoughts for once. he actually has fun that isn’t tethered to everything he’s been building up for over these many years.

alenthaal becomes his safe place. “whats said in alenthaal, stays in alenthaal.” he genuinely believes it to be true.

when the promised day draws closer and closer, he promises to come back. it’s not just al he’s living for, anymore. he’s living for this town, too, full of people who make him feel safe. 

when al sacrifices himself to bring his arm back, it sets ed back what feels like years. his anger returns, completely unstoppable, and his one focus is to kill father. and then greed dies. 

it just gets worse. even with the bastard gone, his progress is still set back significantly.

he yells at hohenheim. calls him a rotten father. he didnt want to deal with any of that self sacrificial garbage, not because that was the man who left them, but because thats exactly what ed does.

he thinks. thinks so, so hard. finally, he draws out the circle, everything finally becoming clear.

he sacrifices his own alchemy. ed doesn’t need it anymore, not when it’s caused him and his brother so much pain.

he has the town of alenthaal. he has his friends. he has his family.

who needs alchemy, when he’s got them?

and he beats truth, in his own special way. al is brought back. even though they spend months in rehabilitation, ed’s head is so much clearer than its ever been.

he returns home resembool. everything was worth it. 

when he visits alenthaal once again, luitumi’s changed. she’s permanently merged with charity as a result of the promised day. they become two extremes- a complete lack of any alchemy at all, and a newfound power that still has so much unknown alchemy to tap into. even still, they share that hug, ed having kept his promise to not die.

he does his best to be more open. alenthaal is his safe haven, but having more than one isn’t impossible.

in the time before he goes off to the west, he tries to open up, bit by bit. its hard. the thoughts aren’t gone, and he knows they never will be. he’ll still have times where he’s rendered useless by them all, but this time, winry and al are there to help. 

his emotions are genuine. his smiles are genuine. he doesn’t have to fake anymore. 

when decides to study alchemy in the west, he knows every possible risk. he continues, despite the danger, because this would be his way of coming to terms with what happened to hohenheim. he ties alchemy to him, and even in death, that doesn’t change.

his father is gone. his father was one of the greatest alchemists the world had seen.

so ed will just overcome him, even without being able to perform alchemy anymore. he’ll prove that he’s more than just his kid. he’ll make his dad proud, as much as he hates calling him by that name.

luitumi joins him on his journey. they ground eachother. neither will have to deal with their pain alone, not this time. ed knows suffering through it isn’t an option for him anymore.

the thoughts will return, once in a while. 

ed no longer shuts them out at this point. he lets them be, allowing them to stir until the mental soup is done. until his head finally becomes clear.

[jaseyspace]

Adventures with little Class 1-A (long)

(trigger warning does involve suicide attempt,bullying, mentions of selfharm and such nature if this bothers you then please don't read any further) Midoriya's pov: I was walking through the halls of yuuie, while hearing constant chatter and clanking. Looking up to see Shinsou being pushed against the lockers by his usual bullies. It angered Midoriya to see the other not fight back and just take what was coming to him. There'd been times he'd caught Shinsou shaking during class because of his anxiety. From the distance he could see that the bully was holding something over his head with a levitation quirk. Continuously shoving shinsou against the wall of lockers, the bully's lackeys used taunting words Midoriya had heard from them all to often. Midoriya's dom side was beginning to come on, he was a daddy dom, he had a little and a boyfriend. Todoroki was the said boyfriend and little, but both boys grew feelings for Shinsou, in a way they were more platonic than sexual. Still it angered the green haired daddy, having Todoroki as a little opened him up to a different world. Knowing that the little had problems with anxiety and abuse from his 'father'. Midoriya had at many times used his daddy side to help Todoroki through those tough panic attacks. This was no different except for the anger that rose, it wasn't enough to full activate his quirk at full charge but he did glow with all for one. Approaching the group Izuku used his stern daddy voice and said. "Get away from him.now!" The bully looks down to see his challenger and laughed "Or what, you gonna bite my ankles shortie?" Shoving the bully forcefully he growled "I said get away from him didn't I?" A sneer plastered on his face as he looked at the other on the ground who had a slightly taken a back look. "What, did you not hear me? This is why you open your ears and pay attention." Midoriya faked a step forward and the bullies flinched, inactivating his quirk the bullies scattered. The thing fell from the sky and in front of him, it was a journal, that said 'little space journal'. Picking it up he turned to see a frightened Hitoshi Shinsou holding himself tightly against the lockers. "this is yours right?" Midoriya asked holding it out to him, Shinsou gave a nervous nod but slowly took it back. The greenette could see that he was shaking harshly obvious having a panic session, frowning he sighed and said. "I know what you are...and its okay...they have no right to bully you no matter the reason." Shinsou's teary eyes looked up from his hunched state, Midoriya began to talk as if he was talking to Todoroki. "You're safe little guy, I promise, I wont let them hurt you any more. Its okay to be little, its okay to be you." "th-they s-...they say I is bad" Midoriya could tell Shinsou was slowly slipping into little space, he understood what he said. "is it because of your quirk?" Shinsou gave a small nod, Midoriya frowned and replied with a heavy heart. "Your quirk doesn't determine who you are, you decide who you are not your quirk...There are gonna be dummies out there who are gonna tell you different but just know that, I think your quirk is great." Shinsou's breath was still fast but he was a little less jittery, Midoriya then decided to do breathing exercise. "alright take slow deep breaths in with me ready?" Shinsou agreed and followed Midoriya in his breathing exercise that seemed to help after a bit. When Shinsou had calmed down Midoriya got out a tissue from his book bag travel sized back of tissues. Handing it to Shinsou who gently blew his nose and shoved it into his pocket to throw away later he smiled. Glad that his classmate was better, and he'd gotten his belonging back. "Well why don't we head to class, don't want to be too late now do we?" Shinsou only nodded not ready to talk as he was battling between his little space and big space. As the days went on the bullying didn't exactly stop, but Shinsou just stopped reacting. He didn't flinch when he was grabbed and shoved around, he didn't utter a word when he was spoken so cruelly of by his peers. He didn't say anything when he was castes to the side and abandoned, when no one would talk to him out of fear of him using his quirk on them. He didn't argue when others would tell him that his dreams of being a hero would never come true. That he was weak, useless, stupid, and could only be good for a villain's apprentice but. It was still eating at him alive, he was eating less, crying himself to sleep at night, forcing himself to take the pain, and was in little space less. He thought that being a little was his weakness, no one will want a weakling in their life. He would force himself out of little space and would 'punish himself' if he dared to slip even if it only for a bit. The purple haired teen was slowly self-destructing again, and he didn't know what to do anymore. He wished he'd had a caregiver who would cuddle him and remind him of his goals, and that he was worth it, and other positive things. Shinsou felt as if he'd had no one to comfort him, no one to make him feel better, no one to kiss his painful scars better, no one to hold him and let him cry on their should. No one to love him. Shinsou had been hurting himself, starving himself, over training, and over studying weren't the only things he did. He would also bite himself, cut, scratch, or hit himself. Today was one of those days were he didn't want to even get out of bed, but he had to hide that from his dads and sister. He had to hide all of the pain from every one, Hizashi, Aizawa, Erie everyone. He didn't wanna burden anyone else so he kept his mouth shut, it seemed to put people at ease when he didn't speak. Getting out of bed, Hitoshi quickly got ready put on new bandages over his fresh wounds he'd given himself during the night and getting dressed. Going down to get breakfast he was greeted by his parents and little sister who were happily chatting in the kitchen. "Here Toshi eat your breakfast before we go." Aizawa says handing his son his breakfast, Hitoshi takes it and takes a few bites which convince his parents that he's eating. Though he planned on not eating the rest, he didn't deserve his parent's kindness, he didn't deserve to eat. Before he left for school he kissed Erie on the forehead thinking 'she deserves a better brother'. At school he didn't bother to fend off the bullies he didn't even stop he just kept walking as they circled him. He'd take the beating at his locker, then head into the bathroom to spew up the food he forced himself to eat. When he walked into the bathroom he didn't see Midoriya or Todoroki when he burst in and shoved his fingers down his throat to force up the half digested food. Crashing to his knees in front of the toilet he gagged up what he made himself eat to please his parents. Both boys could hear the purple haired teen vomiting from outside of the stall. Midoriya felt bad for him but when he opened the unlocked stall what he saw made him sick to his own stomach. When Shinsou couldn't puke any more he sat shaking, crying and tearing off the bandages with his teeth, gnawing at his still scarred or raw skin. Midoriya whispered to Todoroki to get a teacher while he would try to help Shinsou. Midoriya knelt down and rubbed his back and began to gently hush him. Shinsou held himself tightly and began to shake fight Midoriya's gentle hold. "Shh its gonna be alright, just take deep breathes, no one's gonna hurt you any more." Midoriya used his soft daddy voice holding Shinsou to his chest, he then gasped when he hear loud grunt. Looking over Hitoshi's shoulder he panicked, seeing that he'd completely chomped down on his hand. Blood was streaming from his injuries. "j-just let m-me do this M-Midoriya, I deserve it." He cried but the caregiver wasn't gonna take 'no' for an answer, he force-ably took Shinsou's hand out of his mouth and grabbed wads and wads of paper towel to help with the bleeding. "I wont let you hurt yourself just as I wont let anyone else hurt you. Do you understand little one?" His last words were serious but caring, Midoriya didn't mean to trigger Shinsou's little space but it happened. Shinsou made a little whimper before having a complete melt down, crying into Midoriya's chest his breathing was still fast but he was making incoherent words. Midoriya had to keep applying pressure and more paper to the wounds. 'god where's Todoroki with a teacher?' The green haired teen thought as he did his best to keep calm, thankfully his prayers were answered. Todoroki came in dragging Vlad King behind him, the teacher asked what was going on and Midoriya gave him the explanation. Vlad knelt down and asked Midoriya to hand over Shinsou, with the request being followed Midoriya stood up not realizing his hand and uniform shirt was covered in blood. "I'll need you to come with me Midoriya-" Noticing the blood stains Vlad knew he needed to get him to recovery girl, Vlad looks to Todoroki. "Can you get Aizawa and Present Mic, take them to Recovery girl please." Todoroki nods and quickly leaves as does Vlad and Midoriya. As they hurried thoughts raced through Midoriya's mind, they weren't pleasant ones int he slightest. 'is he gonna be okay?' 'that was a lot of blood' 'why would he do this?' 'I didn't even get a chance to tell him that I love him' 'I wish I could've helped him more!' When they arrived at Recovery girl's office, Izuku knocked on the door and was soon given the 'come in'. Frowning upon seeing only Izuku she sighed and said. "what did you do now Midoriya?" Midoriya twiddled his thumbs saying "its not me this time," Vlad soon walks in holding a limp lifeless Shinsou in his arms. "Oh my god!" Recovery girl gasped with a look of shock "its Shinsou who needs your help. Me and Todoroki found him trying to hurt himself in the bathroom." Vlad lays the boy on a cot and Recovery girl takes off his uniform removing him of its bloody stains. Seeing all of the damage from the outside a look of horror came when she heard Izuku. "H-he did this to himself?" Izuku nods having a hunch on why, the hunch was very strong, and a very correct one. "is someone getting Mr Aizawa or Present Mic?" Speak of the devil and they'll come a knocking, and that's exactly what happened. Both adults had appeared, Todoroki left them be, waiting for Izuku with both of their book bags, saying he'd meet him in class. Walking into the room both parents had a look of complete shock and hurt, Aizawa was good at hiding his emotions from Hizashi. Hizashi on the other hand was trying his hardest to stay strong as he laid his eyes upon Shinsou. "wh-...What ha-happened to him? T-Todoroki said he and Midoriya found him in the bathroom puking." Hizashi asked, Shota looked to Izuku who spoke looking them in the eyes. "We found Shinsou trying to force himself to vomit, I though maybe he was sick but. Soon when I opened the stall I see him getting and then ripping off the bandages and biting at himself. He had a lot of scars and bite marks. I tried to stop him but next thing I knew in the midst of screaming he bit himself hard" Recovery checks out the self inflicted injury on Shinsou's hand. Shota gently wrapped an arm around his partner rubbing his back softly to comfort him, still holding onto his tough face. Izuku soon finished his explanation, mentioning the bullying he'd witnessed. Aizawa's tough expression hid the hurt, the fear, the nervousness, and the guilt. "I-I'll leave you guys alone so you can be with Shinsou" Midoriya says but it stopped by Recovery girl, she hands him a fresh uniform for him to change out of. "thank you" He says before leaving to change, and eventually go to class. Ready to keep this whole situation under wraps and take it to his grave, him and Todoroki made a silent promise not to speak of it to anyone else. Sitting in their home room class for what felt like forever with solemn looks on their faces Iida noticed and brought it to Ururaka's attention. "Hey you guys okay?" She ask quietly, Midoriya and Todoroki fixed themselves and nodded Todoroki faked a yawn, while Midoriya pretended to have a head ache. "y-yeah just have a head ache, little Todo had a nightmare last night and kept me up on the phone all night. But it was worth it, he felt better after we talked it out. Though he's most likely still a bit sleepy, aren't you Todo?" Todoroki nods and nuzzled into his boyfriend's shoulder earning a sweet smile from his friends. "Oh well that's good to hear that's all it is, you had us worried for a minute." Ururaka spoke with a bright smile, Iida made his robotic arm movements as he agreed. Suddenly Mr Aizawa came back with a neutral face, he sat as his desk quietly. Staring blankly at his class, he'd shortly received a text from Hizashi, saying just end class. "Cl..Class is canceled for the day" The students returned a silent blank stare at their teacher so gave off a different aura than he looked. Only Midoriya and Todoroki knew what this was, and in a way they were experiencing their own feelings. When two minutes went by the class had began to empty out and pack up to leave. Shota Aizawa sat there all alone, feeling alone, feeling like how Shinsou felt. Feeling like how Hizashi felt when he found the raven haired male drowning in the bathtub with an empty bottle of ipecac and vomit all over the toilet. He began to lose himself in the depths of his mind pulling him down, down, down. 'I'm an awful parent' 'this is his second time' 'Why didn't I notice this sooner' 'He's hurting because of me' 'I'm a horrible excuse of a mentor and parent if my own child tried to kill himself again.' Slamming his hands on the desk then burying his face into his hands letting go of the tears. The thing was he didn't know he was crying, he didn't know how much he'd balled up since he'd seen Shinsou. 'What's gonna happen, is he gonna be mad at me for not helping him sooner!? Is he gonna quit, is he gonna hate me and Hizashi? How am I gonna tell Eri this time?...She's such an understanding child, so is Shinsou, they both deal with so much.-' Interrupted from his thoughts by a knock on his classroom door, looking up to see the teachers along with Hizashi they all had a look of pity. "sh-Shota, y-you're crying love." Hizashi tries to pull up a sweet smile as he watched his husband wipe away his tears wordlessly. "Eraser...we're sorry this happened to you guys" They all bowed Shota sighed and thanked them, Vlad then speaks. "Recovery girl told me to tell you that Shinsou is able to go home when you're able to take him." Both males nod at the information, Hizashi agreed to go out and get Eri from preschool. That left Shota to go and get Shinsou, slowly getting from his chair he ventured out to Recovery girl's office once more. Walking inside seeing the sleeping boy he tries his best to enter quietly as to not disturb him. When he's close, he looked down to see multiple scars scattered across his body it almost made him sick. Gingerly laying a hand on the pale scarred shoulder, tracing the scars seemed to make the teen stir. Aizawa stopped noticing his gesture had made the other move, it didn't take long for Shinsou to wake up. "hm?" He hummed groggily trying to sit up but, his body felt heavy and weak. "shh just lay down Shinsou, you've been through a lot" He whispered gently pushing him onto his back. Shinsou frowned when looking seeing Aizawa but his eyes were more red than usual. As if he'd been crying, and Shinsou knew why, he'd been caught! "I'm going to take you home alright" Aizawa says offered a hand his son's bandaged one to hold onto. Shinsou nods and slowly sits up taking Aizawa's hand, standing with his help. Shinsou had soon made it to the car and sat in the passenger seat. Sitting in a silent car ride with Hitoshi curled up in the seat with thought swarming his head. It seemed that Aizawa's mind was being swarmed too! "H-...Hitoshi" Shota tries to break the painful silence but doesn't know how to. "I-I'm sorry you're hurting on the inside, I really am." Shinsou could hear the sincerity in Shota's voice, hearing how much it hurt to say it. Knowing no parent should have to see the sight of their child covered in blood and scars because of how awful they feel. Knowing that no parent should hear that they're kid tried to kill themselves, or that they're being bullied. Shinsou began to shake trying to hold back tears as his anxiety began to come back. 'were they mad at him?' 'would Aizawa dump him back to the foster system?' 'would Eri be afraid of me?' Aizawa looked to see his son was starting the breath rather quickly and tears started to fall. Thank god they were in the neighborhood, it really hurt Shota to see his son shut down. When they pulled into the drive way Shota parked the car and got out, going to the other side Watching Shinsou slowly get out. Feeling weak on his feet he hand to lean on Shota for support, they soon walked into the house together. Taking off their shoes Shota guides Shinsou to the couch and sat him down, setting his book bag on the floor next to them. Shinsou is starting to shake harder, Shota gently hugs the boy holding him to his chest allowing the other the release he needed. "Go on Hitoshi, get it all out. I know you want to, I know you need to." His soft loving voice says as he rubbed Hitoshi's back, earning a choked sob from his shaking body. Crying from all of pain he'd bottled up for so long, crying all of tears he'd held back. Crying into Shota's shoulder, the shoulder he needed for so long, he didn't care who but he needed someone to let him cry it out. "There you go, that's it...come on Toshi" His sobs weren't loud they weren't earth shattering, they weren't silent, they were just sobs. Soothing circles rubbing into his back to help him, Shota didn't say much except words of encouragement. It wasn't long that Hizashi came home with Eri, walking into the house he announced that they were home. Walking into the living room Hizashi sees Shota comforting Hitoshi on the couch and asked if Eri could give them a few minutes. Being the sweet understanding child that Eri was she nods and scurries off to her room to go and play with the cats. Joining the two on the couch Hizashi talks in a more gentler voice like Shota. "Hey there kiddo, how ya doing?" Shinsou didn't answer he just continued to cry, making the blonde frown he looked to Shota. "Its gonna be okay bud, we're here for you whenever you're ready to talk." Finally Shinsou managed to get out a soft "I-I'm..s-sorry" It really killed the two heroes to hear how broken their son was. Shinsou cried for a little while long until he was ready to talk. "H-Hitohi, can you tell me why you did this to yourself?" Shota asked referring to the cuts and bite marks all over him, Shinsou sighed and explained why. "I-it was a punishment, I punished myself when I did something wrong, or didn't meet up to expectations. I felt like I didn't deserve the things that I have, being in the heroes course, having you guys as parents and Eri as my little sister." "oh Hitoshi of course you deserve this, you deserve so many things you don't even know." Hizashi replies "Besides it doesn't help that I still get bullied because of my quirk" Hizashi and Shota frowned, they thought they'd passed that hill already but, I guess not. "They're still bullying you? Why don't you fight back?" Hizashi asked "I don't want to cause trouble, and give them another reason to call me a villain." Aizawa nods understanding how Shinsou felt about his quirk, what he didn't expect was for Eri to come out with a cute card and words that would make Shinsou feel better. "Hitoshi" She gently tugs on his pants for his attention, looking down to see the ivory haired girl with a card in her hand. She offers it to him, thankfully taking it he opens it. Its a picture of Eri and him hugging, it seemed to crack a smile from the depressed boy. "I like your quirk though, its really cool." "Can you tell Shinsou why you like his quirk Eri?" Shota asked, the other parent knew what he was trying to do. Sometimes kids know how to help better than other adults do, being that they are able to better connect to the same energy. "Its really cool,he can control people and make them do silly things is really cool!" Even though Eri didn't exactly know what Shinsou could do with his quirk she wasn't that far off with her description. It seemed to make the other's heart feel warm again, giving her a soft smile. Eri noticed the bandages and asked him why he had them. Even though Eri had been through her own bouts of depression its not easy to explain to such a small child. Both parents didn't know how to answer Eri's question with out making anyone feel bad but Hitoshi seemed to know how. "Well Eri I don't feel good, I've been feeling very sad a lot and sometimes when you get too sad you tend to hurt yourself...Its not something you should do, its not good for you but. I thought that if I hurt myself then I'd feel better...but it didn't make me feel better it made me feel worse." Eri frowned and did something very sweet and something that made them all smile. Taking Hitoshi's bandaged arm she kissed it softly, like how some parents do for their younger children when they scrape their knee or get a cut. Hitoshi couldn't help but cry at how sweet his sister was and how close he was from hurting her by killing himself. "that help Hitoshi?" "yes Eri that made me feel so much better" He says hugged his little sister who happily hugged him back. Hitoshi gave a soft tired yawn and snuggled into Shota's chest like Eri would when she was tired. Surprised by their older son's sudden gesture they then hear him say "sleepy" in a small child like voice. They figured he was just tired and needed so they just let it slide, letting the teen drag himself to bed. Telling him not to lock the door as he entered his own bedroom to change into his PJs. When the teen had left the living room Aizawa thought to check Shinsou's bag just in case he had blades in there. As he searched he found two of them and then a small purple journal that had a few stickers that spelled out 'little space Journal'. Curiosity said to look inside, the other side said that's most likely a diary and you shouldn't read someone's diary. Still he was curious maybe Hizashi knows what this is? "hey Hizashi do you know what it is?" Showing the blonde the journal Hizashi furrowed his brows "I found this in Shinsou's bag" "Well open it maybe its just a diary, maybe it'll help figure out what we can do to help him more." So with that Aizawa opens the journal and looks through the first page. "What's it say shota?" "Its says 'little space to me: a head space that allows me to relax and cope with emotional pain and be myself. Def of little space: allows me to mentally feel younger than I already am' There's more it says 'about little me. name: Hitoshi Shinsou, big age: teen, Little age: 2-5, likes: to play with legos, watch little kid movies, take naps, play with the cats, and eat jello. Dislikes: mean people, loud people, & yucky tasting things.' hm so it seems to be a lifestyle thing that he enjoys, it allows him to act like a small child around Eri's age." Aizawa says while reading a few pages, he soon gets to a page that says 'Things I want as a little' "hm? Pacifier, a stuffie, a caregiver who doesn't mind my depressed self.' and other things that you give toddlers." "sounds kinda cute" Hizashi smiles "Well if it makes him happy then why not let him do what he needs to do. Whether that's acting like a toddler or crying on one of us for an hour n a half. As long as he doesn't go back to hurting himself that's all that matters." The next day was the weekend and Shinsou was walking with his parents over to the Todoroki house. It hadn't taken long to find their place seeing as Endeavor was a hero and heroes tended to talk about home. Reaching the house Shinsou rang the door bell, waiting a little but Fuyumi Todoroki answered the door. "Ahh hello" "Hi I'm Hitoshi Shinsou and these are my parents" Fuyumi recognized the two other pro heroes they recognized her, sometimes pro heroes would have family get together parties. "Hello Fuyumi is Todoroki home?" ��Eraser head asked noticing his son was anxious "uh yes he's training with father I'll go get him, please come in." she smiles allowing the three inside of the house settling them in the living room she excused herself to get Todoroki. Of course hearing that Todorki's teachers were here and wanted to speak to him Enji had to join in, so they followed Fuyumi back. Todoroki smiled when he saw Shinsou seeing the bandages he was glad to see him a live and okay. "Hello Mr Aizawa and Mr Yamada, hi Shinsou.-" "So Eraser head what brings you Present mic and...him hear?" Of course Enji knew none of Todoroki's classmates by name only by the nicknames such as 'All might's brat' you could guess who that is. "Well first off this is our son Shinsou, second Shinsou you said you wanted to tell Todoroki something?" Shinsou was shy and Enji's intimidating aura wasn't helping the situation he then stuttered out. "th-thank you...f-for s-saving m-me" Enji raised a confused proud looking down at his son who cracked a smile from his usual blank face. "Well I'm glad you're okay, Midoriya has been very nervous about you." "I'm just so glad Hitoshi has at least someone who cares, I thought the bullying was over if he switched classes." Aizawa smiles gently rubbing Shinsou's back, folding his arms the largest of the heroes in the room then breaks his own silence. "Any one mind explaining what you are all talking about?" "uh Hitoshi do you feel like explaining what happened? you don't have to go into detail." Hizashi asked he could tell that Endeavor was very hard to talk in front of even as an adult. "I..I tried to end myself, Todoroki and Midoriya found me in the bathroom, if neither of them had went and did what they did I would've tried harder to kill myself. Even if I didn't succeed I would've kept trying." Looking down at his son he was a little surprised but then smirked "Well Aizawa I guess my son will definitely be a hero if he's already saving lives. Good thing he's got me as a father and mentor." Enji says ruffling Shoto's hair roughly making the other flinch a little. Aizawa and Hizashi could tell their loving father son relationship was fake but, they knew that Todoroki didn't really have anyone. Well except for Midoriya all of class 1-A knew that 'tododeku' was a thing, and Todoroki was basically another son to Mama Midoriya. "Hey Sh-Shinsou does Midoriya know you're okay?" "uh well we were headed there" "ah okay" The three of them stand up and Enji offers to lead them out which they all smile at and gratefully take it. (we're all gonna pretend Inko doesn't exactly know she's dating the number one hero) Approaching the Midoriya house hold Shinsou knew that Midoriya was the one who got all of the blood on his hands, and saved him the time before that. Knocking on the door Shinsou is soon greeted by a brightly smiling Inko Midoriya. "hello oh you must be Shinsou, and hi Mr Aizawa and Mr Yamada." "Inko dear who's that?" Asked Toshinori who was in the living room with Midoriya, only a few of the teacher have seen the Toshinori side of him the more human side of him. "Izuku's teachers Mr Aizawa and Mr Yamada" Hearing it was them his sighed in relief and smiles coming to the door hearing her invite the three inside. "Izuku can you come here please?" Inko called out, which prompts for the green haired teen to come into the living room. "h-hi Midoriya" Shinso says shyly Izuku smiles seeing the other, as they sat on the couch Shinsou fidgeted with his fingers. "Go on Shinsou, take your time." Aizawa encouraged, as Shinsou tried to make words tears began to form. He realized he was sitting in front of the person who'd saved his life, saved him from trying to kill himself. He knew that if he didn't succeed the first time he would've tried it again. "Oh Shinsou~" Midoriya cooed feeling himself slipping a little into caregiver space, he approached the other and opened his arms for a hug. Shinsou embraced the other and cried into his chest, the room was quiet aside from the soft crying. "Th-thank you M-Midoriya for s-saving me, I-I'm sorry I tried to kill myself." Hearing that Inko and Toshinori both had a look of shock, not judgement but shock. Still since they knew that Midoriya was dating Todoroki it wasn't the first time this has happened. "Don't worry about it Shinsou, I'm just glad I found you in time and that you're okay." Wiping his tears the violet haired boy sniffled and smiled "If you need someone to talk to you've got me alright." "Ahem." Came from Eraser head who caught Midoriya's attention "yes thank you so much Midoriya" Inko looked to her son and hugged him proudly but then Shinsou "I'm glad to hear you're feeling better, all Izuku said when he came was that someone had attempted to hurt themselves and he did what he could to help." (and that is how ToddoShinsodeku happened)

[unfolded73]

“I Love You” (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

The second of a series of snapshot fics centered around stages in David and Patrick's relationship. Dug this fic out of my google doc graveyard and finished it! It's funny, when you actually finish fics, you can post them, lol. Set just after 4x12: Singles Week. (ao3)

Rated Teen, 2800 words. Previous fic in this series: Boyfriends

__________________________________

David unlocked his motel room and entered the quiet, empty space. Closing the door, the room dimmed until the only source of light was a tiny sliver of morning sunshine where the curtains gaped. He flipped on a lamp, dropped his overnight bag on his bed, and began gathering up a change of clothes before he showered.

“Morning, kids.” His dad barged in, looking around at the unslept-in room. “Where’s your sister?”

David rolled his eyes. “Didn’t Mom tell you about what happened yesterday? I’m sure she’s at Ted’s.”

“Eh, she mentioned something about Ted making a grand gesture in the café, I suppose…”

“Yeah, and Alexis has been pining after him for-basically-ever, so they may not get out of bed for days.” David wouldn’t have minded a few days in bed himself, because it turned out that sex with someone willing to whisper ‘I love you’ into your ear at the most perfect, incandescent moment was pretty great. His knees still felt a little wobbly, and he didn’t really feel like talking to his father at the moment.

“And where were you last night?”

David huffed. “At Patrick’s. Where else would I be?” Ray had been home but David hadn’t been able to muster any worry about it. Patrick loved him. It still seemed impossible that Patrick hadn’t lost interest in him a long time ago, and instead somehow loved him. And was willing to say so. And even more miraculously, David had been willing to say it back.

“We can’t rent this room to paying customers, you know, so we expect you to actually sleep here,” his father said.

“And we do a lot of the time.” But for the first time in a long time, a future was starting to take shape in David’s mind where they wouldn’t. A future where Alexis moved in with Ted, and maybe he and Patrick got a place together. A happy future for him and his sister, something David would have doubted could possibly exist a few years ago. And not just because they lost all of their money. “But we are adults, in adult relationships, so sometimes we don’t sleep here.” He picked up his bundle of clothes and stepped around his father, intent on a shower.

“Well, I just—”

“I mean, Alexis and I are both in healthy relationships for once. With healthy, well-adjusted people who — in spite of our considerable emotional baggage — have decided we’re worthy of love. You should be, I don’t know, throwing a fucking parade, not harranging me about where we’re sleeping.”

His father looked taken aback at David’s forcefulness, and he held his hands up in a yielding gesture. “Okay. Sorry, sorry.”

David let out a deep breath and consciously relaxed his shoulders. “It’s fine. Did you need something?”

“Oh. Your mother and I are headed over to the café for breakfast; would you like to join us?”

David shook his head. “I can’t; I’ve gotta shower and change and be back at the store soon. I can’t leave Patrick to deal with all the Singles Week shoppers by himself.” He stepped into the bathroom and started to close the door, but his father reached out and stopped it with his hand.

“I am happy for you that you’re so happy, David. You and Alexis deserve all the happiness, you really do.”

He wanted to say something snarky, but his father’s sincerity made all the attitude bleed away. “Thanks.”

As David stood under the shower spray, his mind replayed the last day, the way Patrick had gently teased him about his love for Mariah while still somehow taking it completely seriously. The way he’d smiled when David was able to say those words back to him.

The thing was, when Patrick said ‘I love you,’ it was clear he’d been thinking it for a while. Weeks, probably. Or months. Whereas David really hadn’t been. No, that wasn’t exactly true — he had been thinking it, just not using the words. He hadn’t let himself even think the word ‘love’, not after how many times he’d been hurt. Not that he hadn’t been feeling it. In retrospect, he’d probably fallen in love with Patrick when he sang at their first open mic night. Or maybe that night they’d spent at Stevie’s. Or on their first date. Or when Patrick offered to help with the store. But now he’d thought the words — he’d said them — and it was like a champagne cork that once popped out of the bottle, couldn’t be reinserted. He was fairly certain he’d repeated it in the throes of passion last night himself, a memory somehow both mortifying and sexy.

Alexis came home as he was finishing with his hair.

“Oh,” she said, looking surprised that he was there. “I thought you’d be at the store.”

“I’m on my way now,” he said, examining himself in the mirror one last time before moving to gather his belongings.

“Okay,” she said, and then she crashed into him and hugged him.

“Ew, what’s going on?” David said, but he hugged her back before he extracted himself.

“Ted told me you guys talked.”

“Oh. I wish he hadn’t.”

“David, I basically owe you for the fact that Ted and I got back together so would you please just accept my gratitude?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He continued getting his bag organized for the day. “And while we’re being emotionally vulnerable to an uncomfortable degree… what’s been going on with you and Ted might’ve inspired some declarations of love in my own relationship,” David said, feeling like his throat was actively trying to close up before he confessed anything so heartfelt to Alexis.

“David!” Alexis clapped her hands. “Have you ever said that to anyone before?”

“Not in the context of a romantic relationship, no.”

She squeaked. “You and Patrick are so cute,” Alexis said with her limp-wristed hands held up high under her chin like she was a hamster. Or perhaps the implication was that he and Patrick were hamsters.

David rolled his eyes and picked up his bag. “I’m going now.” Just before he closed the motel door behind him, he added, “I’m glad things worked out with Ted.”

~*~

David felt a surprisingly intense swoop in his stomach when he walked into the store and saw Patrick over against the far wall helping a customer, which was weird. If the love between them wasn’t new, only newly spoken aloud, why was seeing Patrick making him as weak in the knees as he’d felt in those first couple of weeks that they had been together?

Okay, perhaps it had a little something to do with how intimate the sex had felt between them last night. David could readily admit that his breadth of experience hadn’t prepared him for what it felt like to have the weight of Patrick’s love bearing down on him at the same time he pressed inside — slow, careful thrusts that David could barely process the physical sensation of when Patrick was staring into his eyes like that. Like he was precious.

David went to drop his belongings in the storeroom and to try to gain back some of his equilibrium. He needed to not be a mess. Patrick was so solid and sure about saying he loved him yesterday. Patrick took love for granted, growing up the way he had, spending most of his adult life loving Rachel with all the capacity that he’d had to love her. Loving his parents. Loving his cousins and aunts and uncles. Loving his baseball team. Loving his hockey team. Loving his math teacher, probably. David was the one so starved of love for most of his life that the very concept had seemed foreign to him a few years ago.

Hearing the bell above the door ring, David emerged to see if the customer count had increased or decreased. If the former, he needed to help on the floor. If the latter, he and Patrick were alone in the store.

It was the latter.

Patrick was behind the register, and he gave David one of those angelic smiles that reminded him of that morning after their first kiss, when David had been half-convinced when he walked through the door that Patrick was about to let him down easy. Tell him that he’d woken up realizing that he was actually straight, or that David wasn’t his type, or one of fifty other reasons David had begun concocting the second that Alexis asked ‘And you’re sure he wanted that?’ Instead Patrick had given him one of these smiles and had kissed his cheek and had told him a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Hey,” Patrick said, kissing David briefly on the lips and then giving him a smirk. “Long time, no see.”

“Mmm.”

“Gwen was in earlier,” Patrick said as he moved behind David to get a box of facial cleanser from the stack next to the door. “What’s the deal with her and Bob, anyway? Did we figure out if he knows he’s in an open relationship?”

“I don’t know,” David said, not in the mood to gossip and Bob and Gwen. Well, he was never really in the mood to gossip about Bob and Gwen, but especially now he wasn’t. He wanted to recapture that perfect intimacy that he’d felt with Patrick yesterday. He wanted Patrick’s eyes on him. He wanted to be the sole focus of Patrick’s attention. He craved it.

Patrick, apparently, wanted to restock the facial cleanser.

David’s brain started to spin out. Should he have told Patrick ‘I love you’ this morning already? How soon should he say it again? How frequently should he say it? Just wait until it comes up naturally in conversation, or… what? David wasn’t sure what the etiquette was, once those words were uttered. Patrick must know, he thought.

David approached him, putting his hands on Patrick’s shoulders and leaning over to kiss the back of his neck. “Hey,” he said, finally answering Patrick’s greeting.

Patrick shivered and set the box down, so David turned him and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around Patrick, loving the sensation of his boyfriend’s muscled chest through his thin shirt and the feel of Patrick’s arms around him, which never failed to soothe.

“You okay?” Patrick asked.

“Mm hmm.”

Patrick pulled back enough to focus on his face. “I understand, you know, if yesterday was kind of… intense and if you need some time to process it. I don’t want to you to feel like I’m expecting anything more from you just because we said—”

“It’s not actually that? At all?” David pulled back a little, letting his hands rest on Patrick’s shoulders where they always seemed to gravitate. “It’s not that I need to pull back or to process anything.”

“Okay.” Patrick was just giving him one of those looks of infinite patience he had. That look that said, take as much time as you need, I’ll be here.

“It’s that I want that feeling all the time? That way I felt when you told me you love me, I want it all the time,” he whispered.

“Well, I do love you all the time, if that helps,” Patrick said.

David huffed. “Even when I rearrange the store according to my unnecessarily exacting standards?”

“Especially then,” Patrick said.

“I’m in love with you,” David said. It felt important to say it that way. Not just ‘I love you,’ but ‘I’m in love with you.’ It made his heart race, to say it that way. ‘I love you’ was something he could say to Stevie if he didn’t think it would melt Stevie like a bucket of water over the Wicked Witch. ‘I’m in love with you’ was something he could only mean about one person.

“I’m in love with you, too,” Patrick said, his eyes so earnest that David felt a bit like he should avert his own gaze from them before he himself melted into a puddle.

The bell above the door rang and a woman towing a toddler behind her came into the store. David grimaced.

“I’ll take this one,” Patrick said softly. “Why don’t you see if the cheese needs restocking?”

David shot him a grateful look. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

Patrick winked and made his way over to see if the harried young mother needed any help.

~*~

After a few weeks had gone by, as autumn settled into Schitt’s Creek, the concept of it, of being loved by someone and loving them in return, struck David again and again as something he wasn’t sure he could live up to. He felt it when Patrick joined the Roses for dinner at the café and talked with his dad about baseball. He felt it when they were snuggled up on the sofa at Ray’s, eating pizza in front of the television. He was feeling it when Patrick took his hand as they were leaving the store one evening in late October, the two of them shuffling through the fallen leaves as they walked back to Ray’s together.

He caught himself imagining what it would be like to take Patrick to visit New York, to show him off to all of his old friends. Would they see what he saw in Patrick? That this smart, level-headed, generous, unassumingly sexy guy had fallen in love with him? Or would Patrick’s boring Levi’s and conservative haircut and disinterest in the latest trends blind them to what Patrick really was? Probably the latter, David thought, and he felt a surge of protectiveness against his so-called friends in his imaginary scenario. How dare they discount Patrick when he was so much better than they were in every way that counted? They weren’t worthy of Patrick.

The anxiety that had been a hallmark of those first few months with Patrick, that had made it so easy to react badly to the fact of Rachel, that anxiety had morphed into a different thing that occasionally wormed its way into the forefront of his brain: a certainty that Patrick was too good for him. He squeezed Patrick’s hand hard enough that he turned and gave David a quizzical look.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. ‘M fine.”

Patrick kept gazing at him for a few seconds before he shrugged. “Okay.” He swung their hands back and forth as they walked.

I’m not worthy of you, David thought.

“Because it seems like there’s something on your mind,” Patrick said.

“You should want to date other people.”

“I don’t.”

“I know it seems like the pickings are slim out here in the middle of nowhere, but there are other gay men. Or bi, or pan, or… whatever. There are other options for you. Better options, probably.”

“David—”

“Guys who understand that R-O-Y thing—”

“ROI? Return on investment?” Patrick stopped walking and stepped in front of David to stop his forward momentum.

“See? Guys who’ll watch sports with you and won’t criticize your wardrobe.”

“Well, you’ve pretty much given up on criticizing my wardrobe,” Patrick said with a smirk. “David, I don’t want other guys. I want you.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand why,” David said softly.

Patrick stretched up on his toes and kissed him softly, just a brush of dry lips against his own. “I don’t need you to watch sports with me.” He tilted his head to the side, considering. “Remember last Sunday, when Ray was out all day and the house was quiet, and we sat across from each other on the sofa under a blanket and just read our books? And then later you helped me make dinner?”

David rolled his eyes. “I didn’t help that much.”

“You helped some. The point is, that was a perfect day as far as I’m concerned. Days like that, that’s what I need from you.”

“We used to fuck all day when Ray was out of the house.”

Patrick smirked. “Those days are pretty nice too. All of it is, with you. Why would I want to be with anyone else?”

“Because you were a starving man when you met me, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t foods out there that you’d prefer.”

“Well, I don’t love that analogy, and also I think you’re wrong. David, are you happy with me?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“I’m happy with you too. I love you. I’m not sure it has to be more complicated than that. Okay?”

“Okay.” They started walking again. “I love you, too.”

He suspected it did have to be more complicated than that someday, but maybe not today. Not just yet. Today it could be the perfect aesthetics of a crisp fall day and David’s boyfriend’s hand in his.

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations BECK! You’ve been accepted as EUROPA with a FC change to ELIZABETH OLSEN.

Bea’s skeleton was one of my favorites when I wrote it, and you definitely brought her to life and reminded me so much of why I loved writing it, Beck! I love the straddled lines between facade and feeling, of power and control, of protection and obedience that you explored through her eyes. There’s a tangled web she left in her wake, and her ties to others outside the mob only give her an extra dimension I can’t wait to see you explore! 

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Beck

PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: 22 in January!

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT. I am in my final year of uni, so admittedly there will be times where i’m not as active as I would like to be. Though no doubt writing will be the only break I have from work so i’m gonna want to write as much as possible lmao

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Beatrice ‘Bea’ Einfalt // Europa

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Female She/Her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Bea is a cataclysmic event of her own making. It is hard to tell how solid she really is, and how much of the forced calm demeanour is just an optical illusion. As if this carefully balanced and closed off exterior is like a thin sheet draped over a gaping hole, of something much emptier and bleaker beneath. It was once such a conscious effort to keep those walls high, to keep herself two steps away from everyone else. That distance soon became a comfort, second nature, a feeling of security. Was that security for her or whoever she was distancing herself from though?

She would have been happy to play on no ones team. Stay a free agent but more importantly, keep herself far from anyone she could remotely care about, for fear of hurting them too. In her mind she’s the the pin of a grenade, finger on the trigger, a molotov cocktail waiting to be thrown. Her’s is a mind so shredded by it’s own teeth that sometimes, there are glimpses to be seen through the holes and tears. Her expression slips carelessly for a moment and something twisted and suffering is there instead, peering out from the body that has been forced into a prison.

Bea is similar to a flower growing through the cracks on the side walk. Other flowers look nice with their neat and pretty garden beds, but rest assured this wild flower had to fight like hell to be where it is now. It takes an observant eye to take a moment to appreciate the violet growing by itself and see the little beauties in her simplicity.

BIO:

Beatrice does not have an origin story; nothing is known about the girl she used to be, before she came to Chicago that one fateful day- a skin-and-bones rag doll girl dragging herself and her sister through the world, starved and desperate. At least, that’s the truth everyone has been led to believe.

There was always something off about the Einfalt girl. Something unsettling. People had been talking about her since you first came into this world, bright eyed and big lunged. There never seemed to be a reason for you to cry, but she was one of those babies desperate to be heard. She came rocketing into the world begging for attention, but her cries got quieter every year until she was quiet enough to make some adults around her uncomfortable. No wonder she had so few friends growing up. The kids called her mouse. Oblivious to her social ranking among some circles. Kids didn’t care that her father was quietly raising in political rank. They didn’t care that she became so quiet at home because he was so loud about what he saw as terrible world issues.

Growing up the word ‘mutant’ was always followed by ‘freak’ or ‘menace’ or ‘problem’. They were made to be the monster under her bed, the creak of floorboards at night. Bea can’t count the times her mother had to tuck her back in at night, begging her not to listen to her father and his wild thoughts. It wasn’t until years later that she found out why her mother was so gentle when her father was cold and angry.

Everything had always just felt so empty to her. The houses lined up one after another. Straight like the teeth every one of your father ‘associates’ seemed to smile at you with. Everyone seemed to be trying so hard to cling onto the façade that they were happy. They might have been. She herself was happy enough but she never understood why it just felt so ungenuine from everyone else. Her life was silver spooned perfection, but she always felt like a dove in a cage. Raised to be gentle but with fiery strength burning her your skin, threatening to burn its way out.

Bea’s childhood never seemed like anything to think twice about until you were older. To her, everyone had full days of classes, learning languages no matter how hard they were to comprehend. She was raised amongst wealth, the few friends she had were just as busy learning through the days, leaving little time to play. It was years later when she realised her father was trying to mould her into his own shadow. Unaware that she was everything in life he seemed to hate.

Growing up with so much fear of even the word ‘mutant’. When her powers reared their ugly head, Bea was rightfully terrified. If her father ever found out about her, it was unimaginable what he would do. A quiet child, her voice hadn’t raised in years. So when her mother dropped a glass, and Bea came running into the kitchen, treading on the sharp scatterings, her scream was surprising. In more ways than one. Bea will never forget the way her mother was propelled across the room, or how calm she was even as Bea couldn’t stop crying. Pressing a cloth to the back of her mothers head to stop the bleeding, all her mother could do was try to reassure her it was okay. The story of the mutant gene in their family was a long one, but Bea’s mother managed to tell the tale before her father got home.

Life was always going to be difficult after that point. Bea went from quiet to almost silent, terrified if she spoke something awful was going to happen again. It took years for her to allow her mother to tell her more about their family, about her mothers own power. It wasn’t until her little sister, Ellie, showed signs of the gene that anything really kicked off, however. Where Bea had kept this secret so close to her heart, it was basically sewn into her. Ellie was never as subtle.

The day their father found out was the end of it all. For someone who’s voice felt like a caged bird, a locked away box to never open. She had no trouble using it when she found her father ready to turn over her sweet, harmless little sister to people that would no doubt poke and prod or even worse. There was no literal blood on her hands that day, but Bea will never forget the light leaving her father’s eyes, or the way her little sister cried and clung to her.

Bea would never have gotten away with this normally, and her father was no normal man. A politician with strong Anti-Mutant views was always going to be well known. It was her mother that took the fall. Persuasiveness weaved through her DNA, literally. Convincing officers and officials that she was the one to do this was easy. Too easy. While some looked deeper, suspiciousness rampant, others were just glad to have this cruel man out of the way.

It’s been years since that day that Bea and Ellie were made practically orphans. Several cities, several lives. Bea’s mother is granted a visit once a month that never goes unanswered, and hearing the pride her voice when Bea mentioned The Jem Family eases a hole in Bea’s heart each time. Guilt still rages rampant at where her mother will be for the rest of her life. Now that she’s older however, knowing that she took out a horrifically evil man, and saved so many mutants? Makes it all a little more worth it. What if the truth is revealed, however? There will still be her fathers supporters, even years later, still digging for the truth. Each day Bea works that little harder, to work on her own powers to protect herself and her sister in case that day comes.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

When there was no one in the world Bea could trust besides her sister. It was a small, lonely world. Then there was her introduction to Jem and those involved. She went from having no one, to people who actively wanted to know and care for her. It was far too much all at once, and frankly Bea pulled away more than she wanted to.  Sensible distance was always kept from people, but it felt like she was digging a ravine between her and them all. The first to start building a bridge was Shae. When Bea took a step back, Shae stepped forward. When someone would usually write her off as too broken, too distant, too uncaring. Shae was always there. Never pushy but always actively trying to get to know Bea. If her life was a constant storm, Shae was the sun behind the clouds. It was impossible to make friends, and Bea will admit that was on purpose. It was a comfort to be unknown. Now its a comfort to know she can call or visit Shae and be understood and wanted. She’s the one person in the world that has some idea of what might have happened in Bea’s past, however no matter how close they become, Bea knows she’s always going to keep Shae that little bit away from the truth.

EXTRA:

Pinterest Board here!: https://pin.it/fnymedfualhdfq

Her father raised her with every intent of moulding her into his own shadow. With his wealth he enrolled her into more classes than a child was ever capable of keeping up with. This included languages like German and French. As a result education is exhausting for Bea, and she avoided going to further education and instead learns in her own time. Alone.

There are very few people that can pull a full, engaged conversation out of Bea. She isn’t rude, she’ll always talk to people when talked to first, but her interest is often elsewhere. She’s well aware this makes her come off as uncaring at times, and she doesn’t bother to correct people.

There’s fear of the unknown weaved between her bones, born from years of fear. But there’s an adventurous streak that brings out the bold and the brave within her. New experiences and the thrill and power that come with them are calculated and thought out butare often craved.

She’s not naive, she knows how this world works. Its good at times yes but there’s so much bad and so many people that fall under that darker side. That she knows to keep her wits about her at all times. Those she has befriended still know only what she wants them to know about her.

The memories are never going to fade, everything a constant reminder of the past. However the longer she spends pretending her past didn’t exist, the easier it becomes to believe it herself.

Theres a rage inside Bea she tries so hard to pretend doesn’t exist. It built her entire childhood, when she had to face fear every single day. Or as she lacked the friends she needed. The comfort she needed. It exploded out of her when her father threatened her sister, and  ever since Bea has tired to lock it away. The only person who ever saw that anger since then was Ciara and it keeps Bea up at night that she saw that side of her. No matter how angry their break up, she knows she could have kept more control.

ANYTHING ELSE: A FC change to Elizabeth Olsen please?

[ausp-ice]

Worlds and Fandoms

Other Info Posts: About | Tags | Characters (TBA)

|| Original Worlds ||

Nēr Light 

Nēr Light follows the logs of Sier Avaren as they work in the outpost Arcana on the alien planet Archeiah. All life there possesses ichor - a dark blue liquid - instead of blood, which absorbs the mysterious energy called "starlight" that radiates from the core of the planet. 

Based on a dream I had about alien vampires and dragons. 

(main blog: @ner-light​​ )

#ner light

#ner - content of nērs. #null dragon - content of Nulls. #archeiah - content of the planet environment and such.

See this post for more info on the characters.

Primary characters: Sier Avaren, Elyra

________________

Khimaer

Khimaer is a world of magic with an advanced, globalized society established across it. Humans are born without magic, but it slowly grows within them until they have the potential to be transformed by it. [Wiki]

#khimaer

#khimaera #espira #khimaerian - humans, khimaera, and espira that exist in this world.

Primary character: Eirien Ward

________________

The Auspicium

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then, a single soul came into existence. That soul expanded a domain around it, and manifested a body out of its own void energy. That was the first dragon of Void.

Later, within the domain of Void, souls of Time and Space sprung into existence, and their domains created a space where physical existence was possible. More dragons, more domains - light and dark, then water, earth, fire, air, ice, lightning, nature, etc.Essentially, a dragon creates a domain and a body for itself, and some can only exist within the domains of others.

Every Void dragon can create its own universe, but one universe can have more than one Void dragon. 

A species known as Travelers have a similar energy-based existence, but do not create domains and are able to travel from one to another. Auspice, my dragonsona, is something like both a Void dragon and a Traveler at the same time.

#the auspicium

Notable characters: Auspice (dragonsona)

________________

Ephemera

The dimension that Eso comes from - he is a will formed from billions of esphers of an alternate dimension, Ephemera. This dimension is closely associated with natural forces, such as wind, rain, rivers, trees, earth, etc. It is populated by countless whispering wills known as esphers, each attuning to the natural energies that bridge the physical plane with their own. When multiple esphers attune to the same force, they gather together and link their wills, forming a sort of hive mind and becoming exponentially more powerful. These links may be transient or long-lasting. Occasionally, they bleed out into the physical plane, leading to some sightings of “fairies,” “will-o-wisps,” “spirits,” etc. Most remain rooted in Ephemera. An entity of cohesive will is known as an ephemeral.

Eso is a very unusual case, in that every espher formed a (more or less) unbreakable bond, and in crossing over to the physical plane, he manifested his own body and becoming a single, united entity. He can still feel his siblings on the other side of existence, but he finds the physical plane fascinating, in contrast to his eternity as separated, whispering wills.

#ephemera

Primary character: Eso

________________

| Shared Worlds |

Ragtag World

A ragtag world of design-traded OCs and the OCs we made of that.

The world is approximately 50 years into the future. Around our time, 2019, magical beings were being discovered by humanity. 

Magical society had, before, run completely separately from human affairs. There are independent factions and civilizations, but there's something like a United Nations for them that regulates their activity. Some magical societies hid within human society, others were completely isolated. 

Eventually, the magical UN decided to come forward and reveal the existence of magic. There was social upheaval, of course, but the end result is now magical and human society living side-by-side, with collaboration for regulation. Some parts of society are relatively untouched by magic, still, and the truly magical civilizations are more often than not still concerned with only their affairs.

#ragtag world

Primary characters: Arith, Fahl

________________

Redivivus

A world in which the mysterious Redivivus parasite has begun to manifest in humanity. But is it so wrong to simply desire to live? 

The world of Redivivus parasites is a world created by friekeshow (dA) and shared with me and a number of others.

#redivivus

Primary characters: Zion Decius, Jess Zhu

________________

| Mythicologie Projects |

Worlds and projects created in a certain group of my friends.

________________

Pokesona

Pokemon personas for many of my friends.

#pokesona 

________________

Witchsona

A world of witches (not just sonas!), with lore master as ayzenigma.

#witchsona

________________

Inner Demons

A project of Ava’s Demon personas.

#inner demons

Me: Cie Alra, Refa Stiriacier

___________________________________________________

|| Fandoms ||

Don’t Starve OCs: Wren Curtis, Wraith

Hollow Knight (blog @elk-and-thearchivist ) OCs: Elk, Wiki

Endless Space 2 OC: Lambda (Riftborn)

Ava’s Demon OCs: Cie Alra, Refa Stiriacier

[sshardassanderson]

One in the Same || Self-Para

WHERE: Clarington Prison

WHO: Darius Anderson & Bruce Anderson NPC (with mentions of Blaine Anderson & Sebrina Smythe)

WHEN: Friday, January 25th at 1PM

WHAT: Darius goes to have a talk with his father...or to try and convince himself that they are not the same.

WARNINGS: Possible triggers for blood and violence. Mentions of murder, attempted murder, acts of violence.

What the hell are you even going here for?

Swinging his leg over the end of his bike and putting the kickstand in place, Dare removed his helmet and lightly ruffled his fingers through his hair to fix the flatness. Under his breath, he cursed himself out for even considering showing up here, but there were so many things he needed answers to, and despite actively knowing he wouldn’t get them, he still drove the whatever odd miles to the correctional facility to demand them anyway. He hadn’t expected Bruce would even accept his visit, but the follow-up phone call came not even two hours later and Dare decided it was enough putting it off. No Blaine. No additional backup. Just a one on one with his old man, so that maybe he could just be done with this for once. So, after shoving his keys into his pocket and making his way toward the main entrance, Dare tried to forcibly not talk himself out of the visit with every step that brought him closer to the doorway. The closing of the various gates and doors behind him brought about that agonizing little itch that resurfaced in the darkest recesses of his mind.

This will be you someday. Only you won’t be going in the front.

Shut up.

He finally reached the front entrance where he was immediately practically assaulted by security, ordering him up against a wall for a thorough pat-down. Shoes off, socks off, toes to ankles, up along his jeans and lingering way too long for comfort between his legs, in his pockets, then wrenching off his jacket to examine sleeves and pockets as though he’d stitched in a hole to smuggle drugs or something of that nature. Dare couldn’t stop the “be careful with that, dammit!” when his Serpent jacket was violently shook left and right for anything loose that might fall out before he was wanded, then shoved through an additional security x-ray.

You sure you’re not being arrested?

I said shut up.

They know what you are. They know who you are and who you’re here to see. They know—

Dare’s jacket was returned, and he snatched it violently from the guard, stuffing his arms back inside and wrapping it around himself like a damn security jacket before he finally reached a middle-aged woman behind bulletproof glass. The only access to her was the dip in the front counter where Dare was required to slide his identification in order to receive a “GUEST” badge. He clipped it to the front of his shirt per instruction and was finally buzzed into another room where yet another guard was waiting with the most disgusted look on his face. In hindsight, coming in with his Serpent jacket on was probably not the smartest decision, but then again Dare never was one to think things completely through before he made a decision. And for the most part the hallways were clear – it’s not as though they’d be moving criminals in the same space that they would’ve moved guests.

They reached what almost resembled a high school cafeteria – just a litany of tables and such every which way, only every door had an armed officer, and there were no cliquey groups of people sitting with their lunch trays silently judging whatever table it was that you ended up at. It wasn’t empty though, various other prisoners meeting with family, friends…fuck buddies, whatever the case was. But Bruce was alone at a table, eyes deadlocked on Dare from across the room with that cold, piercing stare that made his insides churn. But as usual, he steeled himself against his father’s hold and made his way across the room to the table. Bruce was naturally shacked at the wrists and ankles, arms bound with a chain that extended maybe two or three inches, enough that he would be able to make vague gestures but not enough to wrap the links around his neck or anyone else’s. The ends were looped through grids in the table that bolted to the floor, so no chance of him wrenching free or trying to flip the table onto someone else in the room. His ankles, though bound, were not latched onto anything, but Bruce sat with both feet planted firmly on the ground.

He seemed almost tired – gaunt face, a few new bruises and scratches that really brought the color to his sharp hazel eyes. Nothing Dare hated more than sharing the same color. At least Blaine’s were almost gold, it helped to pull him out of his spiral when he needed something to latch onto. But here…he needed to purge Blaine from his thoughts otherwise his father could practically smell the weakness clinging to his eldest’s skin. Bruce appeared to be thinner too, as though he were on a hunger strike. He secretly hoped Bruce had been bullied and beaten in prison, food stolen, finally knowing what it would feel like to be starved. Of course, the forced sobriety couldn’t have helped his situation either, especially judging from the dark circles under his old man’s eyes. Calmly, Dare finally took his seat across the table, giving back the same deadlocked, unwavering stare that his father tried to penetrate his skin with. It was working, but Dare wouldn’t let on to the fact that he was this uncomfortable. He knew better now.

“Well…you look like shit.” Dare commented, Bruce still unblinking and disinterested in the comment. “Must suck to have people beating the shit out of you every—”

“—Are you still fucking your brother?”

Dare froze, but the retort wasn’t unexpected, and his composure returned a millisecond later. “I’m not here to talk about Blaine.”

“I’m not interested in anything else.” Bruce added flatly, leaning back.

“I don’t really give a shit what you’re interested in. I came here for answers, not for questions. So we’re not talking about him.”

“Him who?”

“You know who.”

“Blaine.”

Dare narrowed his eyes. “While I’m here, you’re not going to so much as breathe his name, do you understand me?”

“Is that what you think? That you get to come in here, new hotshot Serpent leader, and tell me what I’m allowed to do?”

“That’s exactly what I think. You left everything behind, and you left it in fucking ruins. So while I’m here, you get to answer to me for once.” Dare leaned closer, arms propped up on the table at his elbows. “I’m in charge now. The Platts are exiled, and the disaster of a situation you left behind for me to clean up after…I’m more disgusted with you now than I have ever been before.”

“That makes two of us.” Bruce replied as he leaned back in as well, their faces inches apart. “You think you’re hot shit now, boy. But you don’t know the first thing about being a leader.”

“I’ve done better than you ever have.”

“By who’s standards, Darius? Your friends? Those people haven’t seen what you’re fully capable of, have they? Have they seen how much you second guess yourself? Have they seen you lose control? Have they seen the way that you crumble and fold at anything that might injure Blaine?”

“I said don’t fucking say his name.” Dare growled. “What they’ve seen are results. They’ve seen their homes restored. They’ve seen people like you and the Platts driven the fuck out. They’ve seen the good that we can do and the—”

“—Good?” Bruce barked a laugh, spittle hitting Dare’s face in a way that made his skin crawl. “Nothing the Serpents have done could ever qualify as good.”

“Things have changed. We’re not just a band of fucking lowlife drug peddlers. It’s back to being what it should have been. And people are happy with the way things are.” Dare slammed his fist on the countertop. “I’m NOT here to explain myself to you!”

“You want to know…what? About why I did what I did to Sebrina Smythe?”

“Yes!”

“And you want to know why I was helping the father cover everything up?”

“I want—”

“Do you really even know what you want? Or did you just come down here so you could look me in the eye and say that you’re nothing like me?” A wry smile passed over Bruce’s lips, that same fucking condescending, smug ass look to his face that let twins know growing up that they were treading into very dangerous waters. Only now the old man was stark sober, and able to focus so fucking clearly. “I know your every button, son. And I know that whatever good you think you’re doing with the Serpents now is going to blow back in your face, and you will lose everything. You’re a pushover deep down, and you want to know why?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s because of your brother. He’s always held you back from your full potential. But when your mother left, she abandoned both of you to my care. And I’ll be honest…Blaine shouldn’t have survived it at all. I tried to make sure of that. Tossed him into a lake. Left him tied up in the closet for hours on end—”

“I said enough.” Dare’s fingers were clenched, knowing that Bruce was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him.

“—And yet you just had to make sure he survived. Gave up everything to make sure he was fed and tended to and had a good life. Is that why you’re fucking him, Darius? Because Blaine can’t even date correctly so you have to fill the role as his lover too?”

The corners of his eyes were practically bleeding red into his vision, and it was all he could do to keep the minimal amount of composure he had left in check before he lunged over the table and killed his old man. He tried to remind himself that Bruce had no power except his running mouth, and that’s exactly what he was doing. Manipulating. Darius was falling prey to it all over again, just like when he was a kid and his father took things just one step too far. Coming here was a mistake. Dare knew deep down there were never going to be any answers. But he wanted to look into his father’s face and know beyond a doubt that they were never the same. That the constant plague of nightmares paralleling the two men, of Dare engulfed in his father’s shadow and moving arms and legs like a puppet on strings were just that…nightmares.

But they weren’t.

He saw himself in the demise of Sebrina Smythe despite having nothing to do with it personally, even if an itch at the back of his head begged the question…Bruce had done this because he’d found out about the summer party. He’d known that Sebrina and Dare hooked up, and that maybe, just maybe, that fucking baby was his. He’d told no one of his suspicions, and it’s not as though Sebrina had reached out to him to let him know. So…maybe it wasn’t. She was bound to have slept with other people around that time. But then why would Bruce be so deeply involved as to help hide the body? These weren’t just nightmares. This was the cold reality.

Bruce’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “You know he came to see me too.”

“Who?”

“Kevin. He’s been worried about his son. Hasn’t seen him in week or so.”

“They were exiled,” Dare answered flatly. “Why should I give a shit where they are?”

Bruce’s shit-eating grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just seems odd that Kevin Jr. would disappear out of the blue.”

“Not my fucking problem.” Dare replied through tightly gritted teeth. “I’m leaving.”

“He sneak up on you?” Bruce inquired before Dare could even stand, the grin never once leaving his face. “Make a pass at Blaine? Threaten you?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Does Blaine know? Do your friends know?”

“Know what?”

“What am I supposed to tell him when he visits next?”

“Nobody’s gonna come fucking visit you, old man.”

“Tell me what happened, son.” A condescending plea for understanding. But all too knowing of what the answer was without Dare saying a word. One in the same. “Tell me what he did.”

“Fuck off, Bruce.”

He might’ve had the leg up if he hadn’t tripped over an empty beer bottle that’d rolled out of the overflowing garbage can. Might’ve stood a chance at getting his hands around Dare’s neck. A flurry of fists and the complete destruction of his trailer. Blood splatters. Dare wrapping an extension cord three times around Junior’s neck until the grunting and choking subsided and nothing but a death rattle in its wake. His hands were still, even as he cleaned the evidence and wrapped the body up in a tarp. Stuck it in a truck, buried him in the damp earth from a recent, brief thaw that the ground was nothing but muck. Deeper and deeper, it never quite felt like enough. He dug so far down it became almost impossible to crawl out of the grave himself, and by morning he’d walled himself up against the entire ordeal. The body was dumped without remorse, then buried up again once more. Another freeze was expected in the next day or so. If it wasn’t found by then…

Dare blinked at his father and stood up from his seat. “Enjoy rotting in your prison cell forever, old man. Don’t expect another visit from me.”

“Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you may have that makes you superior to me, we’re the same, Darius. I knew it when you were a kid, and I know it now.” Bruce squared his shoulders. “Riverdale is Hell, Darius. We’re living in it. You’re living in it. And Blaine is living in it. Maybe one day when someone cuts Blaine out of your life for good, you’ll be able to reach your full—”

Darius leapt across the table and violently slammed Bruce’s face into the mesh metal with enough force to hear the crack in his face from the impact. He gripped what little amount of hair he could and repeated the action, head meeting table before he was wrenching his belt off and wrapping it around Bruce’s neck, strangling him while Bruce’s hands scrambled to try and break free. Unable to lift them more than an inch or two from the table, he was left flailing, kicking his legs out wildly as blood gushed down his face and Dare cut off his oxygen.

“You wanna go to Hell you miserable fuck?! THEN GO TO HELL!”

In some respect he knew that the guards had been on him from the second time he’d mashed Bruce’s face into the table, but it took the force of another two to wholly pull him off and break off the chokehold he’d fashioned with his belt. Unfortunately, it was enough to spare the man’s life, Bruce gasping for breath and spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the laminate floor. The guards wrestled Dare back far enough, shouting something about arresting him, being a “stupid fucking kid”, someone threatening to taser him if he didn’t calm down. Being a man that was hated in Riverdale meant that Dare was able to just be forcibly thrown out of the prison rather than arrested for assault and attempted murder like he absolutely should have been. But he guards merely dragged him out of the room without letting him even glance his father’s way again and bodily launched him back into the reception area before sealing the doors shut behind him.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Dare picked himself up off the ground and tossed the GUEST badge at the receptionist who passed back his ID with a disgusted leer. Dare stuck up his middle finger on his way out, stomping through the courtyard as he stuffed his steady hands back into his pockets.

One in the same.

[ailithnight]

A fanfic heavily influenced by the world and heacannons on @anxceit-and-others, run by the lovely @chemically-imbalanced-romance. That is all.

Title: It’s Not Anxiety Word Count: 3800 (On the dot.) CW: Abuse, Past Abuse, Panic Attacks, Hypothermia, Unhealthy Thinking? (Not sure how else to word that one.) Deceit Tagslist: @moose-squirrel05, @didsomeonesayprince, @readeatfightlove13

Virgil struggles to stay upright while his body trembled. Cold. Tired. Hungry. Sore. Virgil felt like at any moment he might collapse under the weight of his own body. Words were spoken around him that he was only half aware of. His vision blurred and it felt like the whole world tilted. By sheer will power alone. Virgil managed not to tilt with it. He didn’t want to faint in the commons. Virgil had only been with the Light Sides for a few days now. And while it’s true, in that time they hadn’t done anything bad to him, in fact, they had done nothing but try to help, Virgil still didn’t trust them. No. Trust wasn’t the right word. Virgil doesn’t think he’ll ever trust anyone. He doesn’t know what to expect from them. Virgil misses Deceit. Deceit was familiar. A single static in Virgil’s otherwise tumultuous existence. Virgil knew what to expect from Deceit and he knew how to deal with it. But here, in the house of the Light Sides, where Anxiety most certainly did not belong, Virgil felt like he was flying blind. Deceit had been scary in his own right, but this was a level of terror Virgil hadn’t felt in years. So, he fought, desperately clinging to consciousness while everything else inside him just wanted to shut down.

“Anxiety?” Virgil lifted his head to meet the gaze of the four others standing around him. Huh. What was Thomas doing in the mindscape? “Are you alright, Kiddo?” Virgil managed to focus his eyes on the paternal character for a brief moment before dropping his eyes back down. He hummed vaguely, the only kind of sound he could manage to produce in that moment. “You don’t have to be afraid you know.” Virgil almost wanted to laugh at that statement.

“I’m Anxiety. I’m always afraid. It’s kind of my whole purpose.” The words came out dry and breathy. Virgil felt winded just pushing out those three sentences. His vision blurred again but at this point, he just couldn’t bring himself to refocus his eyes.

“Well,” Logan began, “if there is anything we can do to alleviate some of your anxiousness, all you have to do is ask.” Virgil hummed again. He briefly considered telling the truth. That general anxieties weren’t the real problem right now. The problem was that Virgil felt like he had been awake for the better part of two weeks, starved for nine days, slammed into a few walls, thrown through a closed window, and locked outside in the cold for four days. Of course, that wasn’t exactly far from the truth. A few omissions. Virgil’s body had reached its limit. Surely, any moment now he was just going to drop dead on their carpet. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bleed. It was bad enough to leave the Light Sides with the problem of his corpse. He didn’t need to leave a stain too.

Still, it sounded nice, tempting even, to just fall asleep now and not plan on waking up. How much does Thomas need Anxiety anyway? He probably didn’t. Without Virgil around, Roman could go off and chase any dream he wanted. He could stop being mad at Anxiety for getting in the way. Patton would have less weighing him down and making him afraid. He could let Thomas relax and enjoy the things he loves. Logan would probably be ecstatic, not having to constantly combat Anxiety’s skewed reasoning. His job would be so much easier. All Virgil had to do was drop off. He could fall asleep right here on the stairs. He might bash his head though. That wouldn’t do. Blood. Stains. Burdens. Maybe if he came off the stairs first. Stood on level ground, away from walls and tables. The front hall might work. It would put his body closer to the door anyway. Virgil tried to shuffle his feet forward, but they felt full of lead. He put his awareness back into the real world, trying to focus on his feet, but his attention was immediately stolen by a flurry of sounds. His vision, now refocused, was still practically vibrating with Virgil’s own uncontrolled shaking.

“Shit, Logan.”

“Language, Roman.” Roman ignored Patton.

“What’s wrong with him? Is it some kind of attack?”

“This is unlike any panic or anxiety attack I have ever researched.”

“Mmmmm fine.” Virgil slurred, his tongue and mouth failing him. “Juss go outside.” Outside. An even better place to die than inside. Maybe he could get himself in a trash can. Or far enough away that they could just light a match. Maybe he could get back home, across the street. Then he’d be a problem for the Dark Sides instead. Hell, Deceit would probably take pleasure in it.

“Anxiety!” Roman sounded aghast. “Why could you possibly want to go outside? Last I checked, it was storming!” Virgil liked storms. They could be unpredictable and violent, but they were good. Storms brought rain. Rain brought change and growth and refreshment. They washed away the old and unimportant, leaving more room for something better.

“Oh home now.” Virgil couldn’t feel his feet anymore. Or his hands. His torso. He felt like a disembodied head and even that felt too heavy to hold up anymore.

“Kiddo. You don’t need to go back. This can be your home now. Remember?” Patton sounded sad. So, so sad. Virgil was making him sad. Unacceptable. Virgil’s vision was darkening around the edges. He wasn’t even going to make it off the stairs, much less out the door or across the street. Oh well. He guessed here was as good a place as any other. Virgil stopped clinging to consciousness and pushed all his remaining energy to his voice and mouth, trying to make his last word as clear as possible.

“Sorry.” Virgil was swallowed by darkness. His last distant thought was someone screaming. Then nothing. No sound. No sight. No feeling of cold, tired, hungry, sore. No worries. Virgil let out a heavy sigh, finally met with peace and comfort and relief at last.

Roman ran a hand through his hair, once more glancing out the window to the storm raging outside. It had been raining for three days straight now. Coincidentally, that was when Roman had brought Anxiety over to their house. Before that, it had been freezing cold outside. Roman considered it a stroke of luck that the rain hadn’t broken until the temperatures raised above freezing, or else this storm may have been a blizzard. Roman glanced over at the side sleeping on the sofa while Roman watched over him. So many coincidences and strokes of good luck. If the storm had broken sooner. If the temperatures had stayed cool. If Roman had been 2 seconds earlier or 2 seconds later. He wouldn’t have found him and Anxiety would be dead.

Roman had just been taking the trash out. That was all. It had been too cold the last few days to go questing in the subconscious. Roman and Patton and Logan had all been huddled inside, staying warm with baking and board games and movies and good company. Their inside activities had accumulated a bit of waste and Patton had requested someone take the trash out. And Roman, ever the valiant knight, he volunteered to brave the forces of nature in the name of cleanliness. He had just deposited the bag in the bin, which would magically evaporate the waste once the lid closed, and he was walking back around the front of the house to go inside. He was on the front porch when the faint sound caught in his ears. The tiny sneeze was carried over by a fierce gust of wind that tore straight through Roman’s warm clothes and heavy coat. He paused, foot in mid-air, pondering the sound. Patton and Logan were both inside. Roman could even see their silhouettes through the curtains on the window. Neither one of them could have made that noise and been heard. Which left only…

Roman turned slowly around to face the house on the opposite side of the street. It was a sickly-looking shade of blue-grey compared to the homey, pale yellow of their home. The windows were all darkened and the building looked to be in all sorts of states of disrepair. Roman couldn’t fathom why they chose to live like that when all it took was a flick of the wrist to bring the dwelling back to life. Once, he had even done it for them. Within two days, it was back to its original, run-down appearance. Roman had forced himself to shrug it off, accepting that the house’s occupants were all creeps who enjoyed living in a house that was falling apart, like the bunch of degenerative monsters they were. But the house itself wasn’t Roman’s primary focus right now. It was rare for one of the Dark Sides to go out unless they were doing so to cause trouble. If one of them was up to something, Roman intended to find out what. Perhaps they were even the cause of the sudden cold that had gripped Thomas’s psyche.

Roman stepped back off the porch and stalked silently towards the house. He stopped at the edge of the yard, scanning and listening for several moments. But, nothing could be seen or heard other than the occasional gust of wind whooshing down the street. Still, Roman waited. A minute passed. Then two. Three. The cold was sinking in to Roman, causing him to shiver. He was almost ready to give in and go home when he heard it. Another sneeze, soft and delicate, followed by a sniffle and a grumble. Roman squinted his eyes at the holly shrubs. He summoned his sword and creeped forward, ready to fend off whatever vermin was hiding out in there. Roman held his weapon at the ready and inched forward until he could peer over the prickly vegetation to the small space between the bush and the corner of the concrete steps and the house’s foundation. What he saw made him freeze on the spot.

Anxiety was huddled there, back pressed against the steps, facing perpendicular to Roman. His hood was up, his eyes closed, and his head tilted back. His mouth was open, releasing small puffs of condensation with each labored, shuddering breath through his cracked, blue lips. Most of the rest of his face was pale, save for his nose and ear tips which were a vibrant shade of red. The smudged eyeshadow Anxiety liked to apply had been wiped away, revealing deep purple shadows under his eyes. Every few seconds, a light shiver would pass through his body, but would quickly fade away. Roman could see the sheen of the viscous, almost frozen snot framing his mouth like a disgusting mustache. In any other situation, Roman would have been absolutely sickened by it. But, as it stood, he found himself sickened for a whole other set of reasons. Anxiety looked to have mild to moderate hypothermia. Given the natural resilience and rapid healing that comes of being a Side, Roman knew that meant he must have been out here for anywhere between hours and days. And while Creativity may not be fond of Anxiety, no knight worth his salt would ever leave another person to suffer or possibly even die. Certainly not like this.

“Anxiety?” The side in question’s eyes shot open. Suddenly, he was on his feet, though the movement was stiff and clumsy. Had Roman not pulled his sword back, Anxiety very likely would have hit himself on it. His eyes, looking dull and lifeless, roamed around wildly for a moment before landing on Roman. Or, more specifically, Roman’s sword. Roman took note of the immediate fear that overtook the Dark Side’s expression. Pure terror and, maybe, Roman thought, just a tiny but of hunger. Something about the intense gaze Anxiety was giving the sharp blade was hungry and unsettling. But Roman blinked and Anxiety had brought his gaze up to Roman’s face and the hunger was gone, replaced by only fear, and it was easy for Roman to believe he had imagined it.

“R-r-roman! W-wh-hat are you doing here?” Anxiety’s speech was thick and slurred. He attempted to swallow, but judging by the harsh grimace, Roman guessed he was unsuccessful in producing enough saliva.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Roman said pointedly. Anxiety forced a perplexed expression.

“I live here?” Roman was not deceived by the feigned innocence.

“Outside? Behind the bushes?” Roman kept his tone unaccusatory, but serious.

“Sure. Why not. S’a great place to shelter.” Anxiety squirmed under Roman’s skeptical gaze.

“Seriously, Anxiety, why are you out here?”

“Why are you?” Anxiety shot back petulantly. Roman sighed.

“I was taking the trash out when I heard you. I came over to find you huddled behind a bush looking like you haven’t seen a scrap of warmth in a week. Now where’s your explanation.” Anxiety didn’t say anything for a long moment. Roman began to get frustrated and was tempted to walk away. But he couldn’t do that! What kind of hero would that make him? Instead, he fixed his jaw, held his head high and determined, and he waited. Eventually, Anxiety mumbled out a response.

“I got locked out.” Roman blinked, honestly surprised by the genuine answer.

“Is no one awake to let you in?” Anxiety returned to that stubborn silence. Roman looked him over, taking in the filthy state of his ripped jeans and torn jacket and his fingers, a color and shade similar to that of the house behind him. His clothes had deep wrinkles in them, his posture seemed permanently hunched. A sudden gust of whipped Anxiety’s jacket tight around him and Roman could glimpse just how thin his frame was, far thinner than it should be for someone whose body is derived from the stockier form of Thomas. The wind seemed to blow Anxiety over and Roman watched in a state of horrified shock as the other tumbled over into the holly bush, too uncoordinated to even catch himself on his hands. He grunted roughly and, with some struggling, managed to push himself out of the bush, back into the corner where he curled into a tiny ball, tiny red scratches becoming apparent across his face and hands. The more Roman looked him over, the less Roman believed Anxiety had only been out here a few hours.

“Does no one want to let you in?” Silence. “Anxiety, how long have you been out here?”

“Oh, why do you care?” Anxiety hissed, leading Roman to pull back, shocked. “Just go back home Princey. Leave me in peace to -” Anxiety suddenly clamped his mouth shut. He glared angrily and threateningly up at the royal character. Or, he tried to at least. To Roman, he looked more like a disgruntled kitten than a viable threat. Roman tried to pretend he didn’t hear the start of the word die before Anxiety clammed up. Roman checked his phone. He had been out here for no less than 8 minutes. He glanced back at the Light Side’s house. Patton and Logan would surely notice his absence soon. He looked back at Anxiety, who must have been out here for days now, perhaps even since the cold set in four days ago. Anxiety, who had developed hypothermia and was slowly freezing to death. Anxiety, whose own fellow Dark Sides didn’t care enough to left him inside. Perhaps they didn’t even notice his absence. Perhaps they locked him out on purpose. Roman didn’t know. But he did know that if he walked away from him now. Anxiety did not stand a good chance of surviving. And while the Creative trait didn’t often agree with Anxiety’s impact on Thomas, he certainly was not conceited enough to truly believe Anxiety deserved to die. Certainly not like this. He was as much a part of Thomas as any of them. He couldn’t, wouldn’t leave Anxiety here to suffer any longer at the careless hands of his compatriots. A plan formulated in Roman’s head. He dispelled his sword and nodded.

“Okay, Anxiety. I’m going home.” Anxiety slumped and nodded before letting his eyes slide close and his head lean back to the position Roman had first seen it in.

“Good. That’s where you belong.” Roman hummed in agreement. He shuffled his feet for a moment, trying to figure the best way to go about what he needed to do. But when one of Anxiety’s eyes cracked open to glance at him, Roman knew he was out of time. Without hesitation, he bent over the bush and scooped up the frail side with as much gentleness as he could manage. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!” The shriek tore its way out of Anxiety’s throat, scratching and cracking and sounding all together unpleasant for speaker and listener alike.

“I said I was going home. I didn’t say I was leaving you behind.”

“You don’t have to do this you know. I’d be fine.” His voice was hoarse now.

“You’d die.” Silence. Anxiety didn’t even try to deny it. That worried Roman. Anxiety seemed perfectly okay with the prospect of dying and Roman feared that was indicative of a greater problem.

“Thought that would make you and everyone happy.” Yes, Roman decided. There was something deeply wrong with Anxiety. Something the Dark Sides must have had a role in causing. But that would have to be addressed later. Priority one right now was to get Anxiety home and warm. They reached the front door and Roman shifted Anxiety around, managing to support Anxiety in one arm for a moment while the other pushed open the door. Roman walked inside, noting how much worse for wear Anxiety looked in the warm inside lighting.

“Patton, Logan! We have a guest!” Roman called/sung lightly.

“What was that, Kidd- Oh my goodness! Anxiety!”

Getting Anxiety warmed up had been… a process. For most of it, Anxiety had seemed to be in a state of semi-consciousness. Logan said that that was to be expected given the severity of his hypothermia. Had they been real, physical beings, Anxiety would have been hospitalized. With the snap of a finger, Roman had transferred Anxiety into something warm and soft. It took a few hours, but they finally got Anxiety’s temperature back up and he became more responsive again. But that’s when the real trouble had started. Anxiety almost immediately ended up in a harsh panic attack which was mirrored by Thomas. No one believed that was a coincidence. Everything they had fed Anxiety ended up in the toilet bowl. Patton tried to comfort him, tried offering light touches and hugs. But contact made Anxiety scream and be sick again. He became a shaking, sobbing mess on the bathroom floor and none of them knew how to help him. Logan threw himself into research about anxiety and anxiety attacks. Patton took to the kitchen trying to find something they could get him to eat without it coming back up. Roman hovered around outside the bathroom until Anxiety passed out, then took him back to the sofa which had become his temporary bed and hovered protectively over him there.

Anxiety was out for a couple hours, but when he woke up again, it seemed he was already half way to another attack. Logan had come down then with all sorts of breathing exercises and grounding techniques and those seemed to help. But afterwards, Anxiety wouldn’t talk. Or couldn’t talk. Logan said that was possible. Patton came in with a light meal, some soup and crackers, and Anxiety looked at him seeming absolutely petrified. He started crying and shaking and curling in on himself. It took another hour to get him to eat just half the bowl, then he refused the rest. Worst of all, at first, none of them understood it. They couldn’t figure out where Anxiety’s anxiety was coming from. Or maybe, maybe they were blinding themselves to the signs. Maybe they didn’t want to believe the truth. After all, that’s where his power comes from. Roman sighed, running his hand through his hair again. He glanced to the kitchen where Logan and Patton were talking with a very dazed looking Thomas.

Thomas had summoned them, hoping for some answers as to why the sudden ramp up in anxiety. But Anxiety still wasn’t talking much. He had stood on the stairs trembling in what they had all perceived to be anxiousness. If only they had been paying more attention. Roman wished he could say they noticed when Roman had first brought Anxiety in. They didn’t. He wished he could say they realized it after the first panic attack. They didn’t. He wished he could say the saw the truth when the ‘attack’ started after Thomas summoned them. But they didn’t. They didn’t even think about the possible causes of Anxiety’s terror and illness and trembling. Not until he started swaying. Not until he started talking about going outside. Not until he collapsed on the staircase, his chest slamming into the stair edges with an audible crack.

Roman was ashamed to say that they were blind, he was blind, to Anxiety’s true suffering until they had to pull of his shirt to check his ribs. Then it all became painfully obvious. The fear and the trembling and the frailty. Anxiety’s story was bared before them as he was. All those years displayed before their eyes. The pain. The suffering. The fighting. The abuse. It all made sense now. And even though Anxiety was still there, resting peacefully for once, Roman couldn’t help but feel like they were still too late. Years too late. The others came back in. Patton and Logan both brought chairs. Thomas went to the sofa. He gently lifted Anxiety’s head and the pillow underneath it and slid into the spot, letting Anxiety’s head rest in his lap so he could card his fingers through his hair. No one questioned it. Thomas was Thomas. And this was his Anxiety. Thomas knew what he was doing. Even though they all wished they could do the same, only Thomas could get away with what he was doing. Roman ignored the pang of envy and instead, chose to voice his earlier thoughts.

“We should have noticed sooner.” Thomas looked up, meeting Roman’s eyes. His gaze then travelled to Patton, then Logan. He spoke with the certainty and authority that only Thomas could.

“We know now. And now we can help. That’s what’s important.” They sat in silence as the let everything sink in. Anxiety sighed contentedly as he rested. Across the street, Deceit scowled at the sudden turn of events. And somewhere outside, the storm finally passed.

[d-cockroach-blog]

I want your HCs about the generals!

YES so this is gonna be long.

Ezor

- Comes from a large, but very poor family

- Her father was galra, and he loved his wife and kids very much and was a good dad and husband. Alas, he was a low-ranking soldier in the empire and died in battle, leaving his wife and ten kids behind.

- Ezor herself is a middle child, but often acted as the older one because her eldest siblings were not supportive and left the home when they came of age and never came back. Ezor is very bitter towards them.

- Often had to take odd jobs to support her family, mainly in retail and entertainment (where she honed her skills as a gymnast). These jobs (and pressure from being a good older sister) forced her to put on a “mask” of positivism and hide her actual feelings.

- After a number of years in this system she met Lotor who offered her a job as one of his generals after seeing her preform. She initially declined as she didn’t want to abandon her family like her older siblings while also harboring resentment towards the empire for her father’s death.

- Lotor eventually proved himself to be honest and she joined the generals after talking it over with her mother and younger siblings.

- Ezor makes a habit to this day of sending money home and face-timing her family when she has the time.

- Her non-galra species can reproduce  sexually and asexually, so one of Ezor’s younger sisters is actually am asexual clone of their mother. Because the sister a product of asexual reproduction, she grew up faster than Ezor and looks older than her.

- Said sister has clone daughters of her own and Ezor loves her nieces very much and sends them presents everytime Lotor’s squad stops at a new place.

- Ezor herself cannot reproduce asexually because of her galra genes, (but she doesn’t mind at all, she’s not ready for kids).

- When Ezor first joined Lotor’s squad she didn’t tell the other generals that she could turn invisible (Lotor knew because he saw her performance) and often played tricks on them (like moving their stuff, stealing little things like their toothbrush). Zethrid never figured it out until Lotor made a plan that required Ezor to spy and use her invisibility powers. You can image Zethrid’s rage.

Narti

- Her blindness is congenital. In fact, her non-galra species naturally don’t have eyes and communicate through telepathy.

- The other generals and Lotor don’t know much about her past, or even her age for that matter.

- She was an experiment at one point, and was infused with quintessence that turned her telepathy from simple communication to mind-control abilities.

- She met Lotor when he went to “visit” the lab in question. He originally wanted to steal some of the information they’ve gathered there. He learned of her powers and asked if she wanted to join to which she agreed.

-  Her tail is strong enough to pick up Zethrid, and can pick up Acxa and Ezor simultaneously. She has picked up her friends on occasion (this bothers Acxa more than anyone as it disrupts her while she works).

- Not surprisingly, is the only one who Kova would not bite if she tries to give him a bath.

- Loves audio books and always gets a new one when the group goes to a city with a bookstore. Her favorite genre is classical fantasy.

- Is unnaturally good at space bowling and Zethrid considers her her personal rival.

Zethrid

- is the daugther of a wealthy commander, but illegitimate. And as such was hidden away when growing up.

- Her mother died when she was young, and thus Zethrid has little connect to her non-galra species.

- She was raised by her father learning to fight, and he expected her to become a soldier of the empire. He also didn’t wanted to be publically associated with her. She became a gladiator fighter instead.

- Not only did Zethrid ignore her fathers’ desires she actively declared her parentage live in front of all the spectators.

- Despite being a gladiator, she refused to fight anyone who would obviously lose to her (someone like Matt, for example). It was out of mercy, but she would publically word it as it were an insult to her might. 

- Received a lot of hate from racist people on account of her mixed heritage, and the aforementioned refusals.

- Was the first general Lotor recruited before he was  exiled, when he was forced to go see a match of her’s with Zarkon.

- She loves playing with Kova, and is one of the only people besides Narti who could brush him without protest from Kova himself.

- Is actually well-eductaed, and knows a lot about weapon creation and mechanics. She is well versed in history and math as well.

- besides gladiator fights Zethrid is champ at space bowling and has gone pro in the past. Almost always gets perfect games and get really upset if she gets a spare.

Acxa

- Is the quintessential nerd, knows a lot of things over a variety of topics. Her main love, however, is chemistry. Once was a in a bad mood for a week because they named a newly-discovered element after the creator and not after the fact that it resembled peanut butter (No one except Narti figured out why she was so upset).

- She knows the space periodic table (over 400 elements) by heart and can recite it normally, by individual rows and columns, by order of electronegativity and metallic character. She is currently working on memorizing all the atomic masses.

- Doesn’t really know what her non-galra species is, but after meeting Keith and Hunk she has a vague idea that it might be human.

- Is the only general who actually has a menstrual cycle, which is a major inconvenience to her. Since galra don’t get periods she thought she was dying when had her first one. (Ezor also freaked out when she heard that Acxa bleeds for a week once a month every month).

- Was an orphan and has vague memories of her mother. Doesn’t like talking about her past.

- Grew up in a combination orphanage + boarding school, where she received her early education and exposure to science, and was often bullied because of mixed-race and the fact that she was actually real smart and also real small. Has self-esteem issues as a result.

- She accidentally (well it was kinda an accident) spilled hydrofluoric acid* on one of her bullies who was also her lab partner, when he “jokingly” tried to stick her head under a fume hood filled with NO2** gas. She got in deep trouble as a result, and was actually scheduled to be sent to the druids for “correction” when Lotor visited the school. He had heard of her talent and was interested in recruiting her. She joined immediately.

- Is a touch starved individual, and while she outwardly acts like she hates physical affection, she loves it when her friends hug her.

- Often falls asleep on her desk. Like it’s a regular thing. The other generals or Lotor have to carry her back to her room. Ezor often doodles on her face. Kova has actually sat on her face and slept as well.

- wears night glasses. While most galra can see in the dark and in very dim settings Acxa cannot. So when the squad go out at night she wears these big things that sit on her face. They make her look like a nerd.

Lotor

- was a test-tube baby where Haggar experimented with combining her genes with Zarkon’s.

- Haggar didn’t expect him to survive past infancy, as he was often a sickly infant (and later child).

- gets real bad hay fever and hates it when he has to go to a planet that has a lot of greenery. Also allergic to space cockroaches for some reason.

- Has the sweetest genuine smile, it’s very lopsided and cute and makes him look quite earnest. Very few people have seen it though, these people being the generals.

- Is closer (very loose usage of the term) to Haggar than Zarkon. Is pretty confident that she wouldn’t use him as a test subject for her experiments.

- was actually born intersex, but presents as male. Unrelated, but he is also asexual and doesn’t really have an interest in romance currently.

- Has ocular albinism and bright lights hurts his eyes. Really terrible eyesight overall, and gets cross-eyed a lot.

- Initially studied psychology so could actually try to understand his parents. (He still doesn’t).

*hydrofluoric acid is one of the most corrosive acids known. It leaves real deep burns that go through the bone. Inhalation can give you a heart attack. (Acxa’s bully was didn’t die though, and it wasn’t a bad spill).

**NO2 - nitrogen dioxide is a very poisonous gas and can cause respiratory emergencies

[burningstcrs]

STATS.

NAME: arabella delilah martin. FANDOM / PROJECT: none. SPECIES: owl shifter. see below bio. BIRTHDAY: december 17th. RESIDENCE: ontario, canada. ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral. OCCUPATION: none. RELIGION: atheist

AGE: 18 GENDER: cis female EYE COLOR: black. HAIR COLOR: red HEIGHT: 5′3″ WEIGHT: 102 lbs

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: demi-homoromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: homosexual MARITAL STATUS: single OTHER: arabella is… feral for want of a better word. she has been living mostly as an owl for three years, and so doesn’t understand or attempt human relationships in any capacity. this will have to be worked through until any relationship can be formed. PHYSICAL ABILITIES:  limited teleportation, heightened senses + abilities, shapeshifting (owl & human/owl combination), extended life span, visual and auditory camouflage.

BIOGRAPHY.

trigger warnings: murder ;; rape ;; stalking

ice dancer extraordinaire. from a very young age, arabella flew across the ice. she was more at home in her skates than she was in her shoes. it didn’t take long for her skills to be recognized nationally. regular schooling was traded in for home schooling as she competed anywhere and everywhere. fame and acclaim followed her everywhere, until she became one of the most well known skaters in the world.

though she reveled in everyone who praised her skating skills, not all of the attention she received was positive. it wasn’t long until her youth and beauty attracted a stalker. he appeared at every city, every competition. he appeared outside of her hotels, the restaurants she ate at. her parents immediately filed a restraining order, and arabella thought no more of it. for a while, things went back to normal.

fifteen years old. as always, the ice princess practiced relentlessly at her newest routine. her mother went to check into their hotel, while her father was away at a meeting. arabella thought nothing of being alone, instead focused wholly on her routine for her few hours of solitude.

he came out of nowhere. he appeared on the deserted ice and took her there and then as she cried on the ice. be still, he promised, and it wouldn’t hurt so much. she fought, and he beat her head onto the ice until she stopped fighting, moving, and breathing. he left her, bleeding and dying on the ice that had once been her home.

an hour later she gasped back to life. haunted and horrified by what happened, not understanding what was going on, she fled the building. outside, the sun burned her eyes and every sound was too much, too loud. however, in the blink of an eye she found herself in the nearby woods. as quick as she could, arabella hid in the top of a tree, waiting until night fell.

it was then she noticed how her body began to change. her fingers changed to talons, and feathers coated her skin. her mouth changed into a beak. every sound and sight was caught in perfect clarity. she did not know what she was becoming, only that she craved unspeakable things.

traveling at night, she fled north and north and north. as she fled, she learned to control her transformations enough to look human. she learned to manage her short distance teleportation. she learned how to steal humans in the night and feast on them in the woods.

eventually, she came to a long stretch of woods unoccupied but close enough to civilization to provide her with her new food source. over the past three years, she has met several other owl shifters who have explained some of her heritage for her, but she has otherwise lived alone, letting the darkness her death brought fester inside of her until she’s become more animal than human. she haunts the canadian wilderness, crying out for her lost life and becoming darker the longer she sinks into her new one.

OWL SHIFTERS.

what are owl shifters? owl shifters are much like werewolves in that they are humans who become an animal, or like an animal and take on many traits of that animal. rather than wolves, these humans become owls, and take on owlish traits. however, they have more supernatural gifts than simple transformation.

what abilities do owl shifters have? the main ability is, of course, being able to transform themselves. most owl shifters only partly transform: they gain talons, beaks and feathers on top of their regular human forms. however, some powerful owl shifters can fully transform into owls seemingly indistinguishable from the regular animal. owl shifters have the ability to teleport short distances to better hunt their prey. the furthest any owl shifter has been reported to jump is one mile. some of their senses are also extraordinarily heightened. their eyesight and hearing are practically perfect, and so they become incredibly efficient hunters. further, they have the ability to perfectly camouflage themselves to blend into nature, and have the ability to be perfectly silent while stalking their prey. owl shifters are also immortal and have accelerated healing.

how does one become an owl shifter? the shifting gene is passed genetically and is only activated by a violent death. after that violent death, the human comes back to life as an owl shifter. from there, as long as they are not killed, an owl shifter will live forever.

what limitations do owl shifters have? owl shifters are vulnerable in the daylight. the sights and sounds of the day are overwhelming to their heightened senses, and so most owl shifters sleep through the day and hunt at night. they are vulnerable to extreme force as well, though with their accelerated healing they are extremely difficult to kill.

what else is there to know about owl shifters? owl shifters are very territorial, like werewolves, but they often live alone. they rarely congregate with their own kind. they also rarely tend to mix among humans, and many prefer to live on the fringes of society. owl shifters are also marked. even when transformed fully back to their human forms, owl shifters have orange, yellow, or pure black eyes. owl shifters also are compelled to feed off of human flesh. many steal humans, particularly children, from remote locations to eat them. owl shifters can live off of animal flesh, and can go long periods of time between eating, but this is difficult. if starved for a long period of time, the owl shifter will molt and become extremely weak. they will be unable to shift back to human form, and eventually will stop moving all together until fed. some owl shifters are raised in families, and so bear pride in their species. these will often mark their faces owlishly with tattoos to further set them apart from humanity. they consider humans to be prey and nothing more. however, it is also common for an owl shifter to know nothing of their genetics until they are killed and reborn.

[coca-coola]

Life’s not fair: My Processing

This isn’t a poem, or a story. This is just me getting all the weight off. This is the collection of all the fucked up shit that’s happened. Some that everyone knows, some that no one knows. My mind locks up bad and painful memories and I need to get it all down, I need to know it happened so I can finally move on.

TW: Violence, Sexual Assault, Abuse, Miscarriage

Age: 1 My father held me out of a second story window while I kicked and screamed and threatened to drop me, because my mother cheated on him. My mother was begging and sobbing, but there was nothing she could do because my father let me slip a little more each time she took a step closer. I always knew that I was afraid of my dad, I never had a real reason when I was younger. But I guess the brain doesn’t forget. -This I don’t remember, but I was told about by both parents-

Age: 4 This memory is hazy, and I only remember it because of a flashback I had at age 13. It was my first sexual assault. All I can remember is three men holding me down and me screaming for my mom who was directly down the hall from me. I fought and screamed and cried and she just kept crying and saying she was sorry. The men were her friends. Thats all I can remember but after years of processing and trying to brush off that flashback as just a product of an over-active imagination, I know that its a real memory. It makes too much sense, and it was too real. I grew up with an extreme fear of men and I never had a reason. My mind blocked out the memory, not the trauma.

Age: 5 This is the first time I remember being sick. Really sick. I have an auto-immune disease, that was especially bad as a child. I got an ear infection, which for most kids, is just a common thing that is cleared up in no time. For me, I was sick for weeks. I was hitting a 10 on the pain scale and occasionally passing out from it. All I really remember is screaming because of the pain and my mother holding me and crying with me. When I brought this up at age 16 with her, she told me that the infection was so bad that I almost ended up in the ICU.

Age: 7 This memory is hazy, but certain parts are fresh. It was the first time I saw abuse up close and personal. It started with screaming from my mother apartment, which was downstairs from mine (I lived with my Grandma at this time). I ran down to her while my Grandma tried to catch me, and saw my moms boyfriend beating my mother in the way you only see in horror movies. I remember screaming at him, telling him that he was killing her. My Grandma yelled at him, saying that she called the police and that they were on the way. He bolted, nearly naked and on foot, out of the house and out of the neighborhood. The house was something out of a natural disaster movie. All the kitchen furniture was broken, everything was thrown off of the counter (including my pet fish), and everything in the living room was thrown apart. My mother was a bleeding, shaking mess. And she just kept crying for him to come back. This was all because she wouldn’t hand him his shoe from under the table.

Age: 9 I moved in with my mother again, after being with my Grandma basically my whole life. I moved in with her because she kept threatening to have me taken away by force, and I saw the toll that that was taking on my Grandma, so I told her I’d go willingly. You know that one point in your life that you wish you could go back and change? This is mine. My mother lived with her boyfriend (the one from Age 7), and their two daughters (my sisters, whom I love unconditionally now), and the household was hell. The abuse didn’t stop, and it was almost just as bad most times, and it wasn’t only my mother he beat, it was my sisters too, and my mom joined in on that. My mother degraded me in every way she could without hitting me, but I still wish I got the physical abuse instead. She tore me down, and those are scars I’ll carry until I die. There was one time when she did hurt my physically; she choked me with a purse strap because I was playing with my little sister and she thought I was hurting her, I wasn’t, not even close. My sister watched as I was being choked and said nothing. My mother made sure I knew that she didn’t love me like she did my sisters, and she made sure I knew that I was nowhere close to being equal to anyone in the house (except for maybe my dog).

Age: 10, turning 11 This memory is half visual, and half tactile, but all fresh. After I moved in with my mom, I started going to church, and became really close with my pastor. He was the most loved and trusted man in the neighborhood, and he was the type of guy you’d never have a second thought about. He was also the only man my Grandma trusted with me. I attended his church camp the summer going into 6th grade, and during the short time I was there, he broke the touch barrier a few times, which made me uncomfortable, but I still trusted him. One day there was an event at the church, kind of like a feast, and he asked me to help him make Kool Aid. He lead me down to the kitchen in the basement, and closed the door behind us. I made the Kool Aid while he watched and told me what to do. And when I was done he said I did a beautiful job, and asked me to give him a kiss on the cheek. I went to do so and he quickly turned his head so that I kissed him on the lips instead. He moaned and I got freaked out and tried to politely ask to go back upstairs, since the juice was made. He told me that we weren’t done and then kept brushing his fingers through my hair, telling me how beautiful and precious I was. He told me to sit on the counter, I did. I wish I didn’t. I wish I ran away. I kept my eyes closed and silently cried the entire time. Then when he was done, we both went back upstairs, and I just went home alone. I never went back. He gave me an STD. I didn’t tell anyone until I was 17. I can still feel his breath on my neck and his hands on my body. Any time anyone called me beautiful after that, I only heard his voice.

Age: 11-12 Not much to this. I was bullied for being fat, and then I starved myself and lost all the weight, and then was bullied for being too skinny. I was diagnosed with anorexia. I still struggle with it, but have it mostly under control now.

Age: 12 My Grandma lost her battle with depression in June. She swallowed all of her pills and told my aunt that no one loved her. The entire time I was in the hospital, I was waiting for her to wake up, because she always did. Whenever she was in the hospital and the doctors said it was hopeless, she woke up. She didn’t wake up this time. The angel who loved me and raised me and taught me how to find beauty in everything, was gone.

Age: 14 I went to my friends quinceañera with my cousin and boyfriend at the time. My boyfriend and I planned to stay after everyone left so we could do everything we talked about doing while texting. So once everyone else left, we snuck to the back of the building and he sat on an old milk crate and I sat on his lap. I jerked him off while he fingered me, but at one point he came and pushed it into me. I, being the overly fertile person I am, got pregnant. When I found out, I asked him what he’d do if I were pregnant, and he told me he’d leave me. I did everything I could to self-abort, and something I did worked, because I miscarried at two months.

Age: 15 I dated a girl that was too old for me, a teenager, but still too old. She was mature and already lived alone, and I was fresh out of a relationship and hated my mom and wanted to feel bad I guess. One day she brought me to her house, and we fooled around like we did a lot. At some point I told her I was tired and wanted to stop, and she told me she wanted to try one more thing. She took out a pretty big dildo and I told her no, that it would hurt and I didn’t like dildos. She forced me onto the bed and tied me down with the restraints she had under her mattress. I cried and kept telling her to stop, because it hurt. It really hurt. She switched between both holes, and laughed the entire time. I had to play off the blood in my pants as a period when my mom noticed. I tried to break up with her but she would randomly show up near my house or text me at random times. It’s only been a few months since I last heard from her, and I’m really hoping she gave up for good.

Age: 17 It started when I hooked up with a random 27 year old, because my girlfriend at the time made me feel unwanted and undesirable (she didn’t mean to, but that’s how I was feeling). I went there, we got high, we fucked, and we both came. He asked me to suck his dick again afterwards, and he knew I hated doing it. I did it for about 3 minutes before I stopped and said I was done, and I wanted to leave. He told me that he wasn’t done, and grabbed me by my hair and used my mouth as his own personal fleshlight. I was gagging, I couldn’t breathe, and I was crying. He just kept telling me how good my “tight lips” felt. I forced my girlfriends hand in breaking up with me, which wasn’t hard at all.

A few weeks later, I hooked up with an older man. I went to his apartment, which was in the next building from mine, and I smoked first, because that’s the only way I can enjoy fucking guys. After I was already high, he offered me an edible, which I accepted, except it wasn’t an edible. Instead of weed, it was laced with ecstasy. I let him do things to me that hurt, and that I wouldn’t even allow someone I loved do. I was extremely passive and acted completely out of character. And I saw him put the condom on wrong, and I didn’t correct him, or say anything, I just did everything he told me to do without question. The condom broke. I got pregnant. This time with a baby I intended to keep. I told most people I was going to try to self abort again but I couldn’t bring myself to it. I loved this baby and I wanted this baby. I named him and talked to him. I miscarried at a just few weeks. It tore me apart. I named my puppy after him to try and ease the pain.

Age: 18 I got some weird texts from a number I didn’t know. They came from a man who had serious blackmail, so there was nothing I could do legally. He got very sexual very fast, and started to threaten me. He told me he knew my schedule and where I live, and that he’d have me like he wanted. I chose to ignore the texts because I assumed he was bluffing. I didn’t actually think I was in any danger. The next morning I went out to walk my dog, like I did everyday. While I was walking I felt a body of a gun pressed against my lower back and I stiffened up and my dog started to growl. He leaned down to my ear and told me to act normal and to follow him. I tried my best to keep my dog under control while he lead me to a backstreet leading to the park nearby house. He pushed me into the woods and told me to keep walking until he said to stop. Once we made it to where he wanted to be, he told me to walk to the path and tie my dog up, so that if anyone came by, he’d bark and warn him. I did as told and walked back to him, where he was waiting with the gun in his hand, aimed straight at me. It was the first and only time I got a good look at him. He was covered head to toe; he wore a black hoodie, large sunglasses, a bandana with stars on it, tan work gloves, thick jeans, and timbs. As soon as I made my way to him, he pulled his pants down just enough to get his dick out, and told me to pull my pants all the way down, and then he pushed me against a tree. He was overly rough. I think he got more out of making sure I was in pain than the rest of it. At one point, his glove scratched my neck and I thought he had a knife up to me so I let out the beginning of a scream, and he immediately plugged my nose and covered my mouth and cocked his gun on my forehead and I shut my eyes as tight as possible because I was petrified. He asked me if I was stupid. He told me that he hoped I enjoyed that breath I wasted, because it was my last. He pulled the trigger. And I knew that my Grandma was still looking after me because I told her I was sorry. I opened my eyes and saw him still in front of me. The gun jammed. He was pissed and he took it out on me, and at one point I wished the gun did go off. When he was done, he told me to count to 20 before I went anywhere. I counted to 30, pulled my pants up, got my dog, and left.

I ended up in the mental hospital just a few days later. I was drained and empty and hopeless and broken in every way. I was done and I didn’t believe I was supposed to be alive. While in the hospital, I got a lot better. Better than I have ever been in my life. But while I was in the hospital, my nana had my dog killed for no reason. She just wanted to break me further. They had to keep me longer, but I still came out better.

——————————————————————-

I am stronger than ever now. These things are a part of my past and they all still hurt but they don’t control me anymore. I have to process to let go, but I am letting go. I am going to be okay. I am going to live a full and loving life. And I will feel pain again, but I will not suffer again.

[lopithecusfanfiction]

The End of the Star: Epilogue [End]

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2140 Alternate: AO3, fanfiction.net Author's Note: N/A

Epilogue:

~4 Years Later~

It’s been a long 4 years. A lot has happened, but Bruce never forgot. His heart never stopped aching for what once was. At night, he dreamed of Kal and their time together. Brucie became a sham. People were paid to say they slept with him, when in fact, he slept alone. His constant project, never forgotten, lays in front of him. He can’t give up, it’s not in his nature. Despite the constant heartbreak, he continues to hope.

Bruce tightens the last screw on the sphere and closes it up. He’s been working with the device for a long time. It’s become familiar to him, his only reminder of Kal. He’s been working through trial and error in order to figure things out. This time feels different. It echoes in his bones. This will be the attempt that works. With his heart beating fast, he gets up from where he is sat and places the device on the floor. The workshop he’s in is part of the Watchtower. No one bothers him here. The Justice League formed three years ago, but even they know not to intrude on this private space.

Holding his breath in anticipation, Bruce presses the indentation on the sphere, and steps back. After a few seconds, nothing happens. Bruce frowns, the familiar feeling of bitter disappointment fills his chest. He was sure it would work this time. He has checked every part in the device, every thread of circuitry, every connection. The alien device seems to mock him as it sits there, not responding to his command. Part of him wants to kick the malfunctioning sphere, but it’s his only link to… he can’t even think of the name without his throat closing up. Sighing and shaking his head, he leaves the room. He has made a miscalculation, or there must be something else he can do, but he rarely makes mistakes with this project. He makes his way to the cafeteria, needing a coffee and something to eat. He hasn’t had food in hours and is currently starving.

Batman looks through the doorway and sees Diana’s eyes on him, he knows she sees that he looks tired. He can’t imagine the weight of the years she bears. She knows of his project, knows of his determination. It rivals her own. Bruce grimaces. He can’t hide anything from Diana. Her damn clever eyes and wisdom see through his sham, every time. Even from the beginning, she never took his shit. Even now, as her eyes land on him, he feels the empathy emanating from her. It’s like a gouge in a raw wound. He wants to ignore it, but can’t. Instead he looks away, not meeting her gaze.

It’s been years now. Bruce knows she wants to tell him to give up but his mind throws up a picture of Steve and Diana, and his throat closes up. She instinctively understands his pain, even if she hasn’t told him the whole story. He’s no fool, and his detective skills when he tracked her down, gave him an insight to her that he can’t forget. Just as he can’t forget the glass etching he sent her. Inside, he see’s her heart break all over again. Every time. For Diana. For Steve. For Bruce and his lost love. Wordlessly, she moves to comfort the Batman with a touch. They know each other well, and mere words are not needed between the two. Broken hearts recognize each other.

Just as he is about to brush Diana aside, the alarms on the Watchtower go off. He activates the interface on his gauntlet, and locates the disturbance. The workshop, where the sphere sits, is lit up. Going into full alert, he runs back to the room which he just left. The Meta’s of the League are already crowding the doorway by the time he arrives. Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Flash, Aquaman and Cyborg are staring at a swirling portal. They all stand in defensive postures, ready to defend the Watchtower.

“Stand down,” Bruce tells them as he approaches. He pushes past the Justice League members who are looking at him in question. Bruce takes a step towards the portal and pauses, his heart beats rapidly in his chest. “Come on,” he mouths. “Come on.” When nothing comes out of the portal, Bruce starts feeling an all too familiar sinking sensation. There’s only one explanation as to why Kal would not be near the portal, in order to use it. Kal is surely dead. Bruce hangs his head, he feels scraped raw. Diana places a hand on his arm. She knows that defeated look all too well. Bruce can’t look at her. The pain is overwhelming. He pushes down a sob. He hasn’t given up, he can’t. The yearning in his heart pulls at his core. He wishes, he hopes, he wants, he needs.

Suddenly, there is a loud sound and Bruce looks up, startled. A foot appears through the portal. Bruce has to stop himself from running towards it. Slowly, the rest of the person starts appearing, and Bruce’s eyes widen when he sees who it is. “Kal!” he lets himself say the name that has haunted his dreams. The name doesn’t cross his lips anymore, except for his cries at night. He finally allows himself to run towards the Kryptonian stepping out of the portal, catching him as he collapses to the ground. He reaches over and presses the indentation on the top of the sphere, closing the portal. “Kal? Kal?” He grabs a hold of Kal’s face and forces the alien to look up at him. The Kryptonian is just as handsome as Bruce remembers. Kal’s blue eyes are bright, his lips plump. Kal’s skin is paler than Bruce remembers but still smooth to the touch. Grime and dirt cover Kal’s face in splotches. He can tell Kal is groggy. Bruce’s heart fills with warmth and he can barely breathe with seeing his love once more. He wants to wrap the Kryptonian in his arms tightly, pulling Kal close to kiss him. “Hey, hey, it’s me.” Bruce reaches up and pushes the cowl back, revealing his face. “It’s me Kal.”

“Bruce?”

Bruce nods. “Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Bruce.” Tears start to form in Kal’s eyes and he begins to shake. “Zhao.”

His heart is beating wildly. It’s Kal, his beautiful Kal. The last four years come crashing down upon him and he can barely hold the form in his arms. As close as he is to collapse, he won’t let go. He will never let go again. Bruce smiles at him. “Zhao, Kal. Zhao.” He scans Kal’s body with his eyes, and notices Kal is holding onto a bleeding wound. “You’re hurt.”

A smile breaks out on Kal’s face. “Vrrosh :Dokhahsh, remember?”

Bruce nods, feeling pure relief and love erupt in his chest. “Yeah, yeah I remember and I’m going to patch you up, okay?” Kal nods. “You’re going to be okay.” He rubs his hand against Kal’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“I miss too.”

Bruce cups Kal’s face and leans down to peck him on the lips. He’s missed him so much; missed his touch, his warmth, his voice, his everything. He feels the world tilt as he looks down. It’s his Kal, his precious Kal. Words want to tumble from his mouth, the thoughts he’s had over the long years. His chest clenches painfully at the contact of their lips. Those remembered lips, the ones that haunted his dreams since returning to Earth. All his hopes have come to fruition, and he’s holding the man he loves in his arms. Finally. When he pulls away, he says, “Let’s go take care of that.” He helps Kal to stand.

When he turns and faces the whole Justice League, they look even more confused than they had previously. “What’s going on?” Hal asks.

“Holy shit, you’re Bruce Wayne,” Barry says.

“Who the hell is Bruce Wayne?” Hal asks Barry.

Barry looks at the Green Lantern in astonishment. “You don’t know who Bruce fucking Wayne is? Billionaire playboy? Ring a bell?”

Hal’s head shakes. “Nope.”

“Playboy?” Kal asks from beside him and Bruce rolls his eyes, moving to take Kal away from the group and towards the infirmary.

“He got kidnapped four years ago?” Barry continues.

Hal’s head quirks to the side. “Still don’t know who he is.”

Bruce ignores them and exits the room, one of Kal’s arms slung over his shoulders. Once in the infirmary, he helps Kal out of the Kryptonian clothes. They are the same ones Kal wore the last time, Bruce remembers. They are tattered, torn, the frills along the side are ripped or worn off. He tucks a blanket around the naked and dirty lower half.  As he begins to stitch Kal’s wound, he warns the Kryptonian that it will hurt. The stitches go in quickly, and Kal only flinches a couple of times. When he’s finished, Bruce muffles the blanket around the rapidly cooling man before he takes a seat next to the bed. Holding onto the hand he’s only remembered in his dreams, he asks “Are you okay?”

Kal nods. “I much better now. I with you again.” He then frowns. “How long?”

Bruce looks at their conjoined hands. “Four years,” he whispers. Bruce meets Kal’s eyes.

“Long time?”

“Yeah, that’s a really long time Kal.”

“Vrrosh :Dokhahsh no time. Feel like years.” He gives Bruce a small smile. “Still zhao?”

Bruce chuckles, cupping Kal’s cheek. “Yeah, still zhao. You?”

“Still zhao.”

Bruce squeezes Kal’s hand. He needs to keep reminding himself that this is real. Kal is really here. Kal is alive. “The device was broken. I’ve been trying to fix it. I couldn’t imagine you trapped there, or worse. I never gave up Kal. Not once.”

“I not give up on you either, Bruce. Knew would find me.”

Bruce kisses Kal’s knuckles but then frowns. “Your parents? Aunt? Uncle?”

Kal’s head shakes. “Try convince come. Not want to.” The Kryptonian sounds sad and tired. “I go anyway because want be with you.” Tears start forming in those beautiful blue eyes, rolling down his cheeks. Bruce reaches over and wipes them away. “All gone Bruce. Every Kryptonian but me and Kara. Whole planet gone.”

Bruce continues to rub at Kal’s cheek. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop it.”

“Not fault. You say in beginning not sure if could. I just… I miss them.”

Bruce nods in understanding. “Two years ago, one of my sons died. He was killed, and it was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced. I can’t even begin to understand what it feels like to lose my entire species and your world, but I can understand a little bit. It hurts, I know, but Kal, it gets a little easier everyday. I promise.”

“Especially when with someone you zhao?”

Bruce smiles warmly at him, trying to convey to Kal just how much he loves him. “Yeah, especially then.”

“I sorry about your son.”

“Me too.” Bruce swallows the lump that has formed in his throat, trying to push past his grief. “But I have also gained another son. He’s… a clever boy. Hard working and determined that’s for sure.” Bruce brushes some hair off of Kal’s forehead. “You can meet him, and my eldest son, when you’re ready. My butler too; the father figure I told you about.”

“On… Earth?” Fear is shining in Kal’s eyes.

“Only when you’re ready. I was thinking you could live with me. It would make the transition easier for you.”

“I… think like that.” He gives Bruce a wary smile, blowing out a puff of air. “I scared.”

“Now you know how I felt when I got to Krypton.” Kal chuckles along with Bruce. “But don’t worry, Kal, I’m going to be with you every step of the way. And, a few months after landing back on Earth I managed to find Kara, so you’ll have her too. You’re not completely alone Kal, and there are people willing to help you. You don’t have to get over your grief right away, or ever because, trust me, I know sometimes you can’t. And of course there’s the matter of the powers you’re going to have.”

Kal’s head tilts and oh, how Bruce has really missed that. “Powers?”

Bruce smiles at him, wide and excited. “We’ll get to that later, but for now, rest.  Don’t worry about anything. I’m going to be right here when you wake up. I won’t ever leave you again.” He leans down and hovers his face above Kal’s. “Zhao.”

Kal’s eyes fill with love, and a warm smile graces his face. “Zhao.”

Bruce kisses him, reminding both of them again, that this is truly real.

A/N: This is the end. Thank you everyone who read this. I hope you all enjoyed. Don’t forget to go check out the art that goes with this story!!

[theseaeaglelives]

Round 19

THE SEA EAGLE

MAKING RUGBY LEAGUE GREAT AGAIN!!!

Round 19

Manly Sea Eagles      11                   

 Defeated

 FWRC Melbourne Storm    10

There are few things in life more satisfying that knocking of the filthy rorters from Melbourne. One would be to beat them on their own patch at AAMI Park but to top that would be to beat them in the last 30 seconds of golden point, and that is precisely what Manly did in round 19.

Let’s face it, the Storm are to rugby league what Sun Yang is to swimming, that being previously found guilty, despised, filthy cheaters who should not be allowed to compete in their chosen sport. 

The Sea Eagle also notes with bewilderment a recent interview with former Storm fullback Billy Slater in which he recalled his so called “four” premierships. Obviously, Mr Slater also believes that Ben Johnson won gold in the 100m Seoul Olympics and that Lance Armstrong won seven Tour de France’s, and such a degree of delusion can only be explained by the fact that Mr Slater once played reserve grade for North Sydney and in the Sea Eagle’s opinion, is infected by the stench of the Bear.

Taking on the filthy rorters in Melbourne was always going to be a tight affair and with this in mind, despite advice to the contrary from all and sundry in the Fox Commentary box, Manly wisely opted to take the easy 2 points on offer (from a penalty) after 10 minutes and opened their account. Manly 2-0.

  Surprisingly for the remainder of the half Manly played with a degree of flair and employed an expansive brand of footy obviously aimed at taking advantage of their more mobile and skilful pack. Unfortunately, and not surprisingly the Storm defence held firm (let’s face it they are more than a step up from last week’s opponents – the Eels). Manly also had to do their share of defence and also proved up to the task, repelling the Storm attack with relative ease.

With only 3 minutes remaining in the half again despite advice to the contrary from all and sundry in the Fox Commentary box, Manly wisely opted to take the easy 2 points on offer (from a penalty). Manly 4-0. Seriously, some of these so-called Fox experts (including incumbent QLD Coach Kevin Walters, Brett Finch and Greg Alexander) need to take a good long look at themselves and should never ever go near a coaching box again. When playing against the Storm (as the second half was to prove) points are gold and no easy opportunity should ever be declined.

Not only did Manly get the two points from this penalty but after getting the ball back from the kick off (as is normally the case), they managed to fashion a try after some fine lead-up work from Brad Parker. The Sea Eagle has been singing the praises of young Parker for some time now as he continues to improve and justify the faith shown in him by Coach Hasler. Manly 10-0 at the break.

A 10-zip lead against most teams would provide some degree of comfort – but not the Storm who responded with two tries of their own. Thankfully only one was converted and with 15 minutes remaining scores were level.

It was also noted that the Storm turned down their own opportunity to take the easy two points from a penalty on more than one occasion, decisions they would ultimately come to regret.

Under the previous coaching regime, Manly would have hoisted the white flag, but not this year under Des Hasler. With their backs to the wall Manly held on to force the lottery that is golden point. Whilst there were plenty of defensive contributors, the Sea Eagle would like to single out Jake Trbojovec for special mention, after racking up an astonishing 67 tackles. Unfortunately, one of them was deemed to be lifting in nature, and young Jake could be consigned for a week-off.

The Sea Eagle has previously gone on record declaring what an abomination golden point is and this game did little to change that view. The only salvation in this instance was that Manly reigned supreme after what appeared to be an avalanche of field goal attempts. Finally, it was Cherry Baby who managed to ice one and with only seconds remaining in extra time Manly ran out 11-10 victors.

Full marks must also go to the free to air Broadcaster Channel 9 who continue to disregard Manly when allocating prime time games and, in this case, have starved viewers of what can only be described as one of the best games of the season.

  Final Comment – Mark Coyne

The Sea Eagle reported last week that whilst holidaying in Singapore, Mr Coyne unleashed the following expletive laden tirade at local police officials "you are a f---ing stupid idiot", a "f---ing dickhead" and a "cock", "f---ing cock" and "f---ing dog", he also threatened to "sue you through your f---ing arse" and adding "if some f---ing stupid c--- sues me, I don’t f---ing care. Especially you". And then finally "you are f---ing crazy", "you must be f---ing embarrassed" and "you must be so f---ing proud of yourself"

This week a similar tirade was directed by the NRL Commission towards Mr Coyne, who has now done the only honourable thing and officially resigned from the NRL Board.

  It was also reported in various media outlets that Mr Coyne was virtually irreplaceable on the NRL Commission. Notwithstanding, should he be required, The Sea Eagle stands ready to answer the call and fill this vacancy. In promoting his credentials for this role, the Sea Eagle would like to declare the following pertinent essential personal attributes;

The Sea Eagle knows who the Sharks are (and despises them nonetheless)

The Sea Eagle has never consumed his own urine or defecated in public, and now after Todd Carney’s efforts, fears the dreaded bubbler even if it is for a cool dink on a hot day.

The Sea Eagle knows the difference between the Newcastle Knights and the Barcelona Football Club.

The Sea Eagle understands it is wrong to have or simulate having sex with a dog or allowing said dog to lick food from the genital area.

The Sea Eagle understands it is wrong to have or simulate having shat in a shoe and then spread said shoe across a motel room in the presence of other players (or anyone else for that matter);

The Sea Eagle has a healthy disregard for all forms of rugby league officialdom, but in the main still loves the game;

The Sea Eagle will willingly criticise that which needs to be dealt with, and will state the bleeding obvious when it appears not to be obvious to those who should know better, but in the main still loves the game.

The Sea Eagle likes a drink, but knows when it is time to go home – and in that respect believes there is benefits in following the rule that nothing good happens after midnight;

And most importantly, the Sea Eagle has never played in the NRL and thus is immune to the inevitable brain explosions which plague former players.

  AFL is Celebrating the Soft

Look, in the current era of me too!, one has to be careful about going too hard when the females start interfering in men’s affairs, in particular men’s sport.

Nevertheless, this one is too much too bear, noting as we do that it is an opinion piece, and therefore not based on any form of objective evidence or investigation:

My son is excited for Auskick. So he's taking ballet first Jamila Rizvi Columnist SMH: July 24, 2019 — 12.00am

  My son turned four last month…

Whether via biology or brainwashing, AFL is in my son’s blood. He’s going to have a crack at the game, at least once, and I suspect he’ll enjoy it. However, I don’t want him to feel like some activities are more worthy of admiration than others. 

Nor do I want his parents’ expectations or society’s gender norms dictating what will make him happy and fulfilled…...d to shortlist….

Footy, like most traditionally male-dominated sports, is making big strides when it comes to gender inclusivity. …..

Yet, when a little boy wants to be a hairdresser, an early childhood teacher, an aged care worker, or a stay-at-home-dad, his dreams aren’t generally celebrated in the same way………

Despite my lofty intentions, I admit that I was nervous about ballet. …..

While I knew Rafi would relish the opportunity to dance, I wasn’t sure how he’d react to being the only boy in class. Foreseeing potential disaster, I assembled my buddies. Two of my girlfriends have sons the same age as Rafi and they promptly jumped on the ballet train as well. There is safety in numbers. It would be a masculine insurgence at under 6’s ballet.

Jamila Rizvi. Jamila Rizvi is a columnist and former Labor adviser.

Sea Eagle Comment: Thank god this is an article about AFL. When the Eagle was a kiddie, he felt it was cool when he was taught how to tackle low and effectively, how to sidestep, draw and pass, make a break etc. and when he was given the greatest gift you can give to any young boy- i.e. how to exploit the blind side.

He also felt it was cool when the u14’s coach would say, “boys, it does not matter how big they are, just hit em low and hard and they will drop like trees”. Or “boys, they can’ run without legs” – and to then see it actually was true when put into action.

Time have changed, and in the Sea Eagle’s view in this example on ballet being an adequate preparation for AFL Auskick, not for the better.

That said, if a young fella wants to do ballet, in the Sea Eagle’s view more power to him. A very difficult activity of which there can be no doubt.  Statistically the male to female ratio is also overwhelmingly in his favour, so that can’t be a bad thing if the young kid has aspirations on being a chick magnet. What is not clear is whether ballet and say rugby league, have any cross ferritization opportunities?

The Director of Controversy is looking at whether a 95kg 10-year-old Tongan could learn a thing or two by taking up ballet before embarking on a full-blown rugby league career. Also being investigated is how would say 4 or 5 said 95kg 10-year-old Tongans be received, if they chose to turn up to the local upper north shore ballet dance studio for a bit of fine tuning in the cultural stakes? 

THE SEA EAGLE