#i don’t know. identity is confusing. i’ll get there eventually though

[oddlylovingaddiction]

Part 1: here , Part 2: here , Part 3: here , Part 4: here , part 5: you’re here!

No forgiveness ending: Part 1: here

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don't have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family, Reader x Conner “Kon-El” Kent (romantic.). Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest

TW: Angst, abuse in the form of neglect, descriptions of anxiety, reader’s dead mom gets brought up, pregnancy.

You made a good choice to spend the day in bed, your body felt almost like mush and you had no energy to do anything but relax in the comfort of your husband and bed. You could hear your joints pop every time you stretched almost like bubble wrap, your belly felt a comfortable full from the breakfast and lunch Conner and watching your favourite show? Absolute bliss.

But the gnawing feeling in your stomach is still somewhat there, and Conner notices it. “You feeling okay?” He nudges your side playfully making you laugh softly.

“I’m fine, I just think there’s just the residue of anxiety that’s kind of lining my heart, you know what I mean?”

He chuckles, “oh I know that feeling. It feels like it’s chewing on you.”

“Exactly!” You smile, happy he understands what you’re talking about. “Perhaps I feel this way because I’ll eventually have to talk to my family about what I saw… I’m really not looking forward to that conversation.”

There’s a moment of silence, you don’t expect him to reply just to listen. The TV sounds kind of muffled as you stare at his hand unconsciously, you can feel him staring at you as well. The setting sun gently cracks through your curtains and shines on both you and him, almost illuminating you both like you were some tragic scene from a movie. Two people who needed their family but ended up creating their own. Conner brings his hand down and towards your belly, gently touching it before awkwardly pulling away.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters which catches your attention, making you look up at his face.

“For what?” You ask confused at his sudden apologetic behaviour.

“The fact I didn’t tell you that your family were superheroes.” He whispers, his face scrunching like it was physically hurting him which earned a soft chuckle from you.

“Oh please, don’t be sorry. You didn’t know I was a Wayne. Still have my mother’s maiden name after all.”

“Yes but…”

“No, you didn’t know and you said it from the first time you revealed the fact you were superboy along with telling me about the other super Kents, that you didn’t want to tell me the other heroes identities to protect me. I respected that so neither of us knew.” You firmly reply, you don’t want him to feel guilty by your other family’s mistakes.

“Yes I know but if I had known that you were in that house and I had met you earlier maybe I could’ve protected you from getting hurt.” He genuinely looks like he’s about to cry. “I never want to see you crying. Especially the way you cried on the floor like that.”

You softly laugh again, “jeez, if I had known I was marrying such a caring man, I’d probably have married you sooner.” You pinch his nose teasingly, to which Conner makes a fake ‘gah!’ Sound like it’s personally hurting him even though it’s definitely not. Perks of being a super. “I remember the first time we met drunk at a bar and the next morning I remember I caught you trying to leave me your number on the nightstand.” You suppress your laughter. Conner groans at the memory.

“Don’t remind me of that okay?”

“Remind you of what? The fact you tried ditching your future spouse?”

“I wasn’t doing that! I had work to do and you were still asleep so I thought it would be okay since you would just call me later.” He whines dramatically

“I don’t knowww…. Seemed like I was nearly ditched, because how do I know you would’ve picked up?” You grin at his exasperated expression.

He trips over his words momentarily struggling to explain himself before he sighs, “You know what? Keep believing I was going to ditch you hot stuff, because no matter what in the end we got married and have a beautiful child on the way, so no matter what I see this as a win in my books.” He gloats patting your pregnancy bump, as you scoff playfully.

Conner gentle rests his hand there as you both bask in soft marital bliss before you both suddenly feel a soft kick.

“We should sign the kid up for kickboxing.” You laugh.

“Does it hurt or something?” He asks concern once again blooming on his face.

“Surprisingly yeah. It’s not super painful but still a bit uncomfortable. That’s the thing about pregnancy nobody tells you that the kicks hurt.” You shake your head shrugging.

“It’s lucky the baby can’t catch any sunshine otherwise those kicks would just hurt.” He huffs making you laugh.

“Yeah lucky me otherwise this would all be way messier. Thank god I’m not see through.”

“You may not be see through but I do have X-ray—“ he says making you laugh before getting cut off by his phone ringing.

He glances over at the phone and gives you an apologetic look, “one second love.” He says kissing you on the cheek before grabbing his phone and walking out the room. You decide to relax and rewind the movie since you both weren’t paying attention at all.

“WHAT THE HELL YOURE DATING ONE OF MY SIBLINGS AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME?” Tim yelled into the phone which made Conner wince and pull away, he did say he’d call Tim later but to be honest he was kinda just saying that to get Tim off his back.

“I didn’t even know dude! It’s not like you both share the last name either and you never mentioned having another sibling.” Conner groans annoyed that he had to be stripped away from his love, however he does his best not to be too mean to Tim, he is… was? his best friend. Honestly he’s not sure where he stands with Tim right now. The love of his life was neglected and Tim took part in that neglect, even if it wasn’t deliberate. But that doesn’t erase him and Tim’s history, he was someone on his side during the rocky times of his life before you came into the picture.

But Conner also knew about your history. It was something you bonded over late at night as you stared down at the city, both of you sat on the edge of a random building, he remembered that moment because he never felt more understood and in love in that moment. If you asked him it would probably be that moment he decided he wanted to marry you, not only because he felt seen but when you looked down at the traffic below, the soft yellow lit up your face making his heart feel like it had stop beating. He swore in his vows to protect you and not let you get hurt ever again, especially not like that.

And he’d be damned to the hell inside his head if he saw you on the floor crying again.

He knows you’re not bothered by the fact you were sobbing on the floor, he remembers you telling him about your childhood and how you used to do the same thing occasionally when something triggered the memories of your mother who you told him had passed, so it’s no wonder you’re probably less shaken up about that part. But he can’t get it out of his head.

“How could you not know?! We even look alike!” Tim squawked breaking Conner’s train of thought and bringing him back to reality as he furrowed his brow, pulling his phone away a second to think about what he just heard before putting it back to his ear.

“You’re both not even biological related to each other though?” Conner monotones.

“Still though.”

Conner rolls his eyes, before replying “anyways to be serious, I… I’m not sure what to do.”

“What do you mean ‘what to do’?” Tim replies confused, his voice a bit concerned.

“You know, I.. our friendship.” Conner pauses, the silence is deafening from the other line. He’s not sure what to do, he cares about both you and Tim. It’s just that if he were to choose, it would be you. “I want to stay friends but.. I just..”

“… I get it.” Tim’s voice doesn’t sound malicious or angry, maybe a little sad? But he didn’t sound like he was crying. “I understand man, A spouse and a child on the way, of course you’d be upset and worried especially about it all and you’d want to stand by their side, it’s only natural.” He paused not saying anything for a phew seconds before adding on.

“I never knew how much I was hurting my own damn sibling, I thought it was the right thing to do. I wish I never listened to Bruce, the damn man probably couldn’t tell a hug from a threat and now I can see not just I but this entire cursed family fucked things up royally.” Tim’s voice cracks as he sounds like he’s about to cry. “Hey… how is…” He trails off, too nervous to say your own name but Conner was the same way. The whole situation made your name feel like glass that could be shattered, it made them both nervous but Tim far more. Like he never deserved to say it in the first place.

“Doing well. We are just watching a movie in bed, it was a rough night but we are doing well, including the baby. To be honest I think we are lucky that nothing else happened, stress isn’t good for anyone especially pregnant people.” Conner gives a forced laugh trying to make the situation lighter.

“Yeah.” Is the only thing replies, and Conner winces when he hears soft sobs on the other line.

“Hey man. We.. are still friends. I still care about you… just right now-” Conner goes to say but is cut off.

“I’m not crying over that dumbass, it’s the fact I made someone cry like that… that’s making me cry.” Tim sniffles, and Conner internally sighs in relief because he really didn’t want it to be because of him. “I’m going to fix this okay? I’ll work on my family here, it’ll take a bit but just make sure both of you are okay alright?”

Conner smiles softly before replying, “Yeah, if you need help call me okay? Though knowing you, you probably will because I don’t mean to brag but I am literally super—“

“Alright wrap it up.” Tim snorts smiling softly, “I’ll… call you later.” He adds on softly

“Alright.”

Then Tim hangs up and Conner breathes a sigh of relief finally feeling like a small weight was lifted off his back but that didn’t the largest weight.

What about you? Will you end up reconciling with them? Do they really deserve your forgiveness? Abuse is abuse even done with the best intentions. It made him anxious. But for now he knows you are waiting for him in bed and that’s what he needs to focus on.

Worry can come later. You come first and always will.

[emotionalmessss]

hope you’re well ♥️ may i request a headcanon where yan!chrollo’s partner escaped but when he confronts them (or however you write it-it’s up to you!) they are really remorseful like “i knew i shouldn’t have left” on their own volition? thank you! ♥️

A/N: ouu, I really like this idea. I can never say no to Yan!Chrollo lol. I’d be more than happy to answer, and I’ll try my best! Thank you for the request, enjoy! :) (this ended up much longer than I expected)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, stalking, implied kidnapping, kinda implied non-con, psychological abuse, hardcore manipulation. chrollo is a dick.

Chrollo is no saint, but he definitely has the patience of one–though only to a certain extent. With you, however, he seems to have all the fucking patience in the world. Because of Chrollo’s emotionally complex nature, I kind of feel like it’s difficult for him to form emotional attachments, especially with those outside the Troupe. Connections have never really been a priority for Chrollo, nor do they come easily to him. But, with you, it’s different. You’ve always stood out, and his relationship with you is something that he treasures deeply. In his own twisted way.

Ever since Chrollo first laid eyes on you, he’s been utterly fascinated–a reaction that probably confused him at first, considering his interests usually only involve the wellbeing of the Troupe, books, and stealing valuable objects and Nen abilities. Chrollo has utilized all his available resources to gather as much information about you as possible, spending countless hours studying every single aspect of your life. Say goodbye to your privacy because there’s no such thing when it comes to Chrollo. And sure, a few members of the Troupe probably found Chrollo’s behavior unusual, but they knew better than to question the boss.

Chrollo might be completely infatuated with you, but he’s not blind to how difficult the situation is for you–he is well aware of human nature, and even more familiar with you. In fact, he completely understands your struggles. But, does that mean he’s going to let you go? Fuck no. As far as captors go, Chrollo has been incredibly lenient with you, hoping that you’d eventually realize that there is no one else in the world that could cherish you the way he does. And when you escaped from him, you betrayed that sliver of trust he gave you.

Your escape was successful, congrats. Managing to slip past Chrollo’s defenses was a challenge in itself–and you should be proud–not everyone can outsmart the head of the Spider. But, that’s just the beginning, don’t celebrate just yet. Surely, you’ll have to deal with a fuck load of complications, like starting your life over from scratch, fending for yourself, constantly watching your back, and maybe, just maybe, going as far as adopting a completely new identity. Things couldn’t get any more complicated, could they? Oh, they can and they will. 

It wouldn’t be long before you started to doubt and question everything–your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, your choices, and most importantly, Chrollo. You might’ve thought you had the upper hand, but somehow, for some fucking reason, Chrollo always has the last laugh. Chrollo would never allow himself to show it, but he would definitely feel slightly irritated with the situation and your behavior. You actually had the audacity to run away from him? Have you forgotten who he is and what he's capable of? It’s not very often that someone would defy him, and part of him secretly applauds your pathetic–yet somewhat amusing–actions. Did you truly believe that he wouldn’t be able to find you again? 

I’d imagine that Chrollo probably saw your sudden absence as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Annoying? Yes. Unexpected? No. Would he have expected you to be remorseful after escaping? Not entirely. Fortunately for him–and unfortunately for you–Chrollo knows you very fucking well. So well, in fact, that he’s become really good at predicting not only your next moves, but also what goes on in your head. He knew it wouldn’t take long for your mind to overwhelm you–that fresh start of yours isn’t feeling all that fresh anymore, is it? 

Chrollo wouldn’t go find you right away, no, he’d let you struggle for a bit before he made a move. The Troupe would probably question their boss’ somewhat unusual approach to the situation, but they wouldn’t push their luck–they knew better than to risk overstepping any boundaries, especially when it involves you and Chrollo. Just because his love for you is fucked up unconventional doesn’t mean he’s going to act impulsively to get you back, that's not how Chrollo operates, his methods are much more refined and efficient than that. 

But, that doesn’t mean Chrollo won’t be thinking of you. You’re always on his mind. He’d deny it, but the mental image of you–somewhere far away and stressed out, trying to move on with your life–was oddly satisfying. Some might say that’s cruel, but Chrollo sees it as conditioning. And Chrollo is a master manipulator. He may appear relatively passive on the outside, but you should never underestimate him. I feel like nothing is off-limits with Chrollo, and he’ll do anything and everything to make it impossible for you to leave him. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. So, it's really not much of a surprise that you’re remorseful about running away. That’s exactly what he planned. 

From the very beginning, Chrollo has been subtly manipulating and conditioning you, instilling doubt and dependency within you. He’d isolate you from the outside world and from the other people in your life, both physically and emotionally. He kept you by his side, never allowing you to stray too far. Even when you thought you were alone, he was watching. He gave you the illusion of freedom–a door that was occasionally left unlocked, access to his entire apartment, the opportunity to go outside, but only with him. He’d make you question the relationships you had with everyone that wasn’t him, slowly turning you against them. Do they actually care about you? Do they actually understand you like he does? Those were his ways of making sure there was nobody else you can interact with, forcing you to become dependent on him for everything.

Chrollo wouldn’t stop there. There were times when he would let his guard down, allowing you to see moments of vulnerability. He would tell you things–his past, his thoughts–enough to make you believe there was more to him than the monster you feared. When you eventually opened up to him about your own thoughts, he’d listen. He always listened so fucking carefully. He made you feel like he understood you better than anyone else ever had, or ever could.

And it all paid off in the end. For him, at least.

It’s almost been two months without Chrollo and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. In fact, your newfound freedom feels fucking horrible. It doesn’t make sense–you should be thrilled that you’ve managed to escape after being held captive for one year. You had planned this escape for months, spending countless nights going over it again and again in your head until it was foolproof. It worked, yet you were far from satisfied.

Feeling more than a little conflicted about your state of mind, you move to sit on the couch in your living room. The old, faded piece of furniture creaks beneath your weight as you settle into the cushions. It felt cold and unfamiliar. The couch was probably older than you–faded, torn, and pilling–unlike the expensive plush one that Chrollo has. That one felt warm and familiar. Anxiously, you stir your half drank cup of coffee and take a sip, grimacing slightly. Even his fucking coffee was better than yours. 

This new life was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead, it was a constant reminder of everything you left behind. It seems that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get Chrollo out of your mind. Every little sound–footsteps, doors opening–sent you into fight or flight mode, always on edge. It felt like you were living with a shadow that was slowly closing in, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to run away from it. Fear, longing, and resentment were just a few of the emotions you’ve learned to cope with, but it never got any easier. 

Part of you missed the late night, deep conversations, the way he listened intently, as if your words were the most important thing in the world. Now, your nights are restless, haunted by constant nightmares involving a certain raven haired man. Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome? There’s no way to be sure–therapy costs money, and you aren’t exactly rolling in it. Your hands tremble as you place the mug down, spilling the dark liquid all over the side table. Still trapped in your mind, you get up from the shitty couch and head towards the kitchen, moving to grab a rag to clean up the equally shitty coffee. 

A small creak from behind catches your attention, making you pause momentarily to glance over your shoulder. Like countless other times, there's nothing there. Maybe you don’t even need a psych to diagnose you, since you’re already going insane. Sighing, you grab the rag and start walking back toward the living room. 

“A bit late for coffee, is it not?” The smooth sounding voice instantly makes you freeze in place, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with a rush of emotions. There’s a certain lightness in his tone that’s not usually present–it’s almost like he’s teasing yet chiding you. Either way, you weren’t going to concern yourself with the semantics.

It feels like your body has been completely paralyzed. Yet, somehow, you manage to summon the courage to slowly turn your gaze towards the source of the voice, finding it at the front entrance of your apartment. What you see is enough to make you feel faint, your head spinning and your stomach dropping like a stone–it’s Chrollo, looming in the doorway, his large eyes focused solely on you as a soft, enigmatic smile plays on his lips. Unconsciously, a whimper escapes your lips and your mind suddenly kicks into overdrive, frantically attempting to process the overwhelming reality of what’s happening. All those conflicting thoughts from moments ago flood back into your mind.

You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the relief of finally seeing him again and the chilling fear of what this unexpected encounter might bring. You had started a new life here, a life that was simpler, quieter, more peaceful. But as you stand there, facing Chrollo and the flood of memories he brings, you can't help but question–was it truly peace? You must’ve only been standing there–stuck in your thoughts–for a few minutes, but Chrollo seems to notice your dazed state and decides to speak up again, effectively snapping you back to reality. 

“May I come in? We have so much to discuss.” Chrollo says, his voice as gentle and as reassuring as you remember. Without waiting for your response, he's already stepping across the threshold and moving into your apartment, making his way toward the living room. His approach is calm and measured. It’s almost as if he’s been in your apartment a thousand times before, and as if he has all the time in the world. Rooted to the spot, your hand trembles as you clutch the damp rag, watching as Chrollo takes your previously occupied seat on the couch.

“Chrollo?” You find yourself whispering, your voice barely more than a shaky exhale, hesitant and filled with uncertainty. Saying his name after the silence of these past months feels strange, foreign, but oddly enough, you find yourself not hating it. Chrollo doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he sinks deeper into the couch, leaning back casually and letting his hands rest on top of his thighs. The silence stretches on, lingering too long, and a part of you believes he’s doing it on purpose. 

“You seem troubled,” Chrollo observes, his dark eyes softening a fraction. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” He insists softly, tilting his head toward the empty spot next to him on the couch, a silent command for you to join him. Despite his calm demeanor, it’s quite clear that he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He won’t deny it–your little escape was mildly infuriating. But he wasn’t entirely without compassion–at least, that’s what he liked to believe.

Your chest tightens painfully at his words, each breath feeling like a struggle, as if your lungs are refusing to expand. Your vision blurs as tears gather, threatening to spill over at any moment. You’ve reached your breaking point–the emotions you’ve been painstakingly avoiding have finally surfaced. The ache of remorse gnaws at you, a torrent of regret and guilt that you've been desperately trying to suppress. You open your mouth to respond–to say something, anything at all–but find yourself choking pitifully on a sob, no words coming out. 

The tears start to fall, pouring down your cheeks as you stumble blindly toward the couch, dropping the rag on the ground and barely registering the resigned sigh that Chrollo lets out. You plop down onto the couch next to Chrollo, feeling utterly pathetic about your current state. Not even a second later, Chrollo’s arm slips behind your back and wraps securely around your waist, pulling your trembling body toward his. You don’t fight it, instead allowing your face to bury into the comforting warmth of his chest, while his hand gently cradles the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over again, your voice cracking as you sob into his chest. 

Chrollo’s quiet again, the silence only broken by your sniffles and unsteady breaths. His fingers thread soothingly through your hair, softly shushing you. “You’re okay, I’m right here,” he reassures, his voice stripped of its usual firmness, now softer, gentler, almost tender. His expression remains unreadable as he looks down at you, his eyes revealing nothing of thoughts that are undoubtedly coursing through his mind right now. Internally, however, he feels a tinge of satisfaction upon hearing your apologetic pleas. Maybe things can go back to the way they were, or maybe they'll morph into something new, something better. 

There’s another pause, a moment where he lets you compose yourself. He doesn't mention your escape, or the remorse you've shown–not just yet. In truth, Chrollo is not the least bit surprised by your emotional spiral. He knows you well enough to understand that this is not merely a reaction to his relentless pursuit and eventual discovery of your whereabouts. No, this is an entirely different kind of response, one born out of internal conflict.

If it were any other man in this position, they might have felt guilty for putting you through so much torment. But Chrollo is not ‘any other man.’ Far from it. As he watches you break down in his arms, he doesn’t feel any guilt. He doesn’t see your suffering as something he should apologize for. Why would he? For Chrollo, he sees this as a necessary consequence of the bond he’s carefully created. And he can see that you’re finally starting to understand.

During your time together, Chrollo had a way of making you question everything. Slowly but surely, he instilled a sense of doubt and dependency within you. It was never obvious. That wasn’t his style. 

He had a way of making you believe that the outside world was cruel and dangerous. Every time he caught you looking at the door, he’d remind you–without even needing to say a word–that he was the only one who could truly protect you. A raised brow and slight tilt of his head was more than enough to remind you of everything he had told you before. He was never threatening about it, he didn’t need to be. A simple look from him was all it took for you to hesitate, to second-guess walking out that door. 

Would it really be better out there than here? Could you really handle Yorknew City? Surely, there were people out there much worse than him, right? People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone like you. You could imagine it so vividly: faceless men with rough hands that wouldn’t give a shit about you, your struggles, or your pleas. They’d only see you as a pretty little thing to use. Chrollo never said it outright, but the implication was always there: he wasn’t like them. His touches, though somewhat unwelcome and borderline possessive, were never violent. 

At least with Chrollo, you knew the rules and boundaries–his rules and boundaries. And he never lied to you, not really. The world really was dangerous. There really were people out there who would hurt you. He made sure that you believed he was the best choice. And who else was there for you, really? Not your friends, the ones he slowly convinced you that they didn’t care as much as they claimed. Not your family, who couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of your situation. No, it was just Chrollo. He wasn’t the monster you wanted him to be. He was something far worse: he was everything you didn’t know you needed. And that was much more fucking terrifying.

Finally pulling himself from his thoughts, Chrollo decides that he’s made you suffer in silence for long enough. “You should not have tried to escape, [name],” he says, his voice gentle but carries a clear note of criticism and disappointment. He deliberately uses your name, refraining from the endearing nicknames he usually employs. It's a subtle punishment, a way to remind you of your mistakes. He knows exactly what kind of impact it has on you–how the distance it creates makes you feel small, like a reprimanded child. “Predictably, it didn’t end well.” His tone is soft, almost conversational.

Chrollo pauses again, his fingers suddenly halting their soothing rhythm in your hair. Abruptly, he withdraws the comforting contact, depriving you of the warmth you didn’t even realize you’d come to depend on. You can’t stop yourself from tensing in his arms, struggling to stifle a choked sob. You can’t see it–not with your teary face buried in his chest–but there’s a faint curl of his lips, a flicker of satisfaction at your reaction. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He lets out a deep, exaggerated sigh, his hand pulling away from your scalp completely. Now it rests on the frayed backrest of the couch, lazily tracing patterns on the rough fabric. 

“Running… it doesn’t suit you.” The words are so plain, so final. It's not suggestion or opinion, but a fucking fact. It’s the way he always spoke to you, as if he knew you better than you knew yourself. “It only leads you to pain and suffering. Surely, you’ve realized that by now?” There is no anger or frustration in his voice, just that same steady, disorientating calm that makes you second-guess everything. He speaks as if this entire situation is simply an inconvenience to him, which makes it near impossible to decipher his true thoughts and feelings. 

And then, Chrollo gently but firmly tilts your head up, leaving no room for you to resist him. Not like it would do you any good. Forcing you to meet his gaze, he studies you intently, his dark eyes partially shielded by the strands of raven hair that fall across his pale face. “You’re an intelligent woman,” he murmurs, and for some reason, it felt more like he was mocking you rather than giving you a genuine compliment. “I’m certain that you can grasp the situation.” As he speaks, his grip on your face tightens significantly, hinting at the threat that lies beneath his words. It’s his little way of telling you that you should know better.  

You wince as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your jaw, more out of surprise than pain. The pressure isn’t unbearable, but it’s enough to remind you of his control. You don’t have much faith in your ability to form a coherent sentence right now, not when your throat feels tight and your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Instead, you nod in response, hoping it’s enough. 

Chrollo’s eyes flicker with approval, and maybe a hint of amusement. It’s impossible to be sure with him. He releases your jaw as he lets out a satisfied hum of acknowledgement, now wiping away a few stray tears from your damp cheeks. The gesture should feel comforting, but instead, it leaves you feeling hollow, like being soothed after a punishment you never deserved. “Good girl.” The praise rolls off his tongue easily, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re emotional,” he says, almost to himself. “But you’ll understand in time.”

“It’s time to go home. We’ll continue this conversation later,” He adds, reminding you that this matter is far from resolved.

[nickeverdeen]

Zuko reacting to reader trying on makeup for the first time- (re sending this request lol)

In advance I apologize if I’ll get something wrong, I don’t really understand make-up and how it’s used

————————————————————

Hcs Zuko x reader who’s trying make-up on for the first time

Zuko would initially be confused and intrigued as he watches you carefully apply different makeup products for the first time

He might express concern if he thinks the makeup is a form of hiding or masking yourself

But once you reassure him, he’ll become more supportive

He might try to help you a few times, but soon gives up

He knows he’d probably screw it up

Zuko may not fully understand the purpose of each makeup item

Which would lead to amusing moments of him asking questions like:

“Why are you putting color on your eyelids?”

As you finish, Zuko genuinely compliments your appearance but may struggle to articulate it, simply saying:

“You look… nice.”

He’s trying his best, though

Make-up isn’t something he is fimiliar with

Despite his stoic exterior, Zuko would secretly appreciate the effort you put into it

If you ask him for feedback, he might nervously respond, “I think you looked beautiful without it anyway, but I like this too.”

Over time, Zuko might become more accustomed to your makeup routine and even surprise you with compliments or small gestures related to it

He would definetly ask Katara for help to understand it a bit better and how he could help you with it

Zuko unintentionally shows his curiosity by observing your makeup routine more closely, trying to understand the nuances of each product

Zuko may surprise you by remembering the names of some makeup items or asking thoughtful questions about your preferences, demonstrating his effort to understand

That would be Katara’s work halfly too as she would teach him what product does what and what it’s called

Over time, he could become more comfortable and might even offer to help you remove your makeup

And that could turn it into a shared, intimate moment between you two

Zuko’s stoic demeanor might soften as he realizes that makeup is a form of self-expression for you

Eventually, he might become your biggest supporter, whether you choose to wear makeup or not

As you apply makeup, Zuko may unintentionally furrow his brows, attempting to understand the transformative process happening before him

There could be a humorous moment where Zuko mistakes a makeup product for something else, leading to a light-hearted exchange as you correct him

He may cautiously touch the finished makeup, wanting to understand the texture and perhaps comparing it to face paint used in Fire Nation traditions

Overall, Zuko’s initial reaction to you trying on makeup for the first time might be a mix of confusion, curiosity, and subtle support

As he observes and learns about the different products and techniques, his perspective evolves, and he begins to appreciate the artistry and self-expression behind makeup

Over time, Zuko becomes more engaged and respectful, recognizing the significance of this aspect of your personal style and embracing it as part of your unique identity

[parallel-play-fanfic]

What is this?

This is a Danganronpa, self-ship fanfic and retelling of SDR2: Goodbye Despair written by @my-gf-is-kazuichi-soda.

Full Title: Sensitive Hearts in Parallel Play

Quick summary: Autistic/Adhd queer kids form a friendship and eventual wlw romance despite being in a killing game. Non-despair au, mutual pining slowburn romance, humor, hurt/comfort, eventual OC x (trans girl) Kazuichi Soda

---- I made a new version of this summary post because I decided Kazuichi changes her name to Kazumi, and also changed my own name/pronouns (Maxwell, bigender girl-boy, it/he/maybe she pronouns) while writing this story.

Long version of the summary, and long notes/reoccurring themes/potential triggers for this story at the bottom (I will also mention any triggers in the story at the top of posts for every time of relevance, so it’s okay to skip this post as long as you heed the trigger warnings on the top of each part of the story)

Maxwell Parker (who starts off as “Zoey”), the Ultimate Cartoonist with a superhero complex, wakes up with the rest of its class on a deserted island and is told to make friends with everybody. He realizes quickly that his autism and adhd might make this difficult, so it decides to enlist the help of a neurotypical student who can be a guide to help it make all the friends, navigate confusing social situations, and understand what is happening around it. For this guide, it chooses none other than…Kazuichi Soda.

Despite the Ultimate Mechanic not exactly being the expert in normal socializing (or perhaps because of this) the two end up forming the start of a friendship: right on time for Monokuma to show up and turn the “heart-throbbing school trip” into his signature killing game!

…Though, Monokuma is forced to skirt around an annoying new rule that he can’t punish the Blackened with violence or death. But Monokuma insists that the killing game is still on! He continues to torment the students, specifically two promising Blackeneds-in-the-making: Mahiru Koizumi and Max Parker, who both have big secrets, their lives on the line, and a potential to kill.

But Max fights to keep itself alive as he clings onto his friendship (and budding crush) on his new best friend.

Meanwhile, Kazuichi’s friendship with Maxwell leads to some realizations about…herself. Not quite ready to come out as a trans girl, Kazumi constantly flip-flops between her newfound queer identity she can express with her also-queer friend Max, and the tough guy act that she puts on for everyone else. And she’s not sure where her obsession with Sonia Nevermind is supposed to fit in with all of this. Because she obviously has a crush on Sonia Nevermind (she thinks?), but, she also might have a crush on Max? Why does everything have to be confusing?

—

Other Important Notes in the story, this has some plot details but I think it’s relevant for triggers and knowing what the fanfic gets into:

The fanfic is mostly humor (a lot of cringe comedy), but there are some reoccurring themes that get heavy…

Maxwell is depressed/has intrusive thoughts/is suicidal (I will always give bold warnings on the top of the posts where this is relevant to the scenes and make relevant tags, you will not be thrown into anything triggering without warning, I promise.)

(Self-harm mention!) While Max doesn’t cut himself, he does things like neglect his needs (e.g. letting himself get too hungry) and sometimes act recklessly knowing something could kill him, and that can be disturbing. I’ll always give warnings for this stuff being in posts as well.

This oc is my self-insert. I was depressed/suicidal as a teenager, but I am no longer depressed/suicidal and my intrusive thoughts are fewer and more manageable. You don’t have to worry about me bc of this fanfic. I chose to process the feelings (not based on real events, but just feelings of loneliness and trouble making friends as a neurodivergent teen) through this fanfic.

No family drama in this fic: not that it didn’t exist, more like I don’t wanna write about it, so it may get mentioned if relevant but no flashbacks/long stories about it and it’s mostly irrelevant to the fanfic. This goes for both Kazumi’s and Max’s families. I don’t even want to see Kazumi’s dad, let alone draw him.

Kazumi is in the closet for most of this fanfic (and Kazumi doesn’t know she can be a girl in the beginning) so expect a lot of he/him pronouns/misgenderings bc she’s still in the closet. The same might apply to Max too but not sure yet. I’ll give warnings for any transphobia, though I don’t have any plans for characters being transphobic. Most of them are either accepting or Fuyuhiko (hella confused but too awkward to make a confrontation about it, but he comes around).

This fic does have a lot of internalized transphobia though, for both Kazumi and Max.

Max and Kazumi character growth and long conversations and just hanging out together fluff.

Teruteru is a recurring character and I write him as sort of a bastard (/affectionate). Actually writing him as a “lovable pervert” compelled me. So he is kind of a mom friend and a sexual harasser at the same time. The characters are put off by him but I find him funny.

Mahiru is sort of an antagonist because when I first played the game I found her annoying and sexist. Still, I try to write her in-character, and I’ve come to like her better through writing this fic and forcing her to confront the past, so I believe in character growth for her (and Nagito too!) To be fair, Max also has his annoying moments here, and most of them are around its (sometimes ridiculous) conflicts with Mahiru. For one thing, Maxwell thinks Mahiru taught Hiyoko to be a bully. This is how Maxwell misunderstands the situation but is still a character calling Mahiru out on some stuff other characters let her get away with.

Mahiru and Nagito friendship.

Lot of “will they or won’t they” with Max and Kazumi even though it is obvious as hell where it’s all going. It’s like they are eternally in a contest to see who can be more obvious about their crush and who can be more oblivious to the other’s crush. They’re both winning (which means losing) for like half the fanfic, maybe more than half?

Boob focus in the humor and the gender dysphoria (Max has a character development arc about his chest. You can laugh, it’s meant to be funny, though keep in mind the author actually does have chest dysphoria).

I like writing “cringe comedy”, ridiculous conversations/scenarios, characters (and their conversations) leading the plot, and foreshadowing.

This fanfic gets fucking bonkers and please let me know what moments made you go “Wait, what the fuck?!”

[vulpecular-draconic]

so… i think i finally consciously figured out something.

this lull that i’m experiencing, that i’ve mentioned in previous posts? i know where it began. or, the two things that i think began it. i don’t remember which order they happened in? so i’ll just describe them.

incident one: i tried to talk about alterhumanity with my mom and sister. not just in vague, this-is-a-thing way — they already knew it existed and thought it was weird — but i tried to explain phantom limbs to them. i asked them if they experienced phantom limbs, and kinda told them about mine. which was a mistake. they didn’t make fun of me exactly, but my sister gave me weird looks (and thought i was confusing it for imagination, which i didn’t have the energy to correct at that point), and my mom just said she thought i had a strong imagination (in a less-frustrating way than my sister). but i left the whole interaction feeling VERY much like i’d shared too much of myself. i still feel that way about it. i noticed afterwards that it was harder to feel connected to my ‘types.

incident two: i filled out an alterhuman survey. i’m not sure why, but something about one of the questions — or rather, something in the way i answered it — left me feeling… empty, in regards to alterhumanity? i closed the app and got up from my chair suddenly feeling like i’d broken something. i don’t really know why it made me feel that way. the question had been asking about how much i viewed myself as human. my answer was that i felt like “human” was more of a job title, a purpose, than something i was. it was the first time i’d contextualized it that way — outside of my head, at least? — and… idk. but everything felt Different after that. 

these both happened around the beginning of 2024, i think. for a few weeks afterwards, i clung on to posting about alterhuman stuff, trying to get that feeling back. eventually though, i accepted the lull and stopped trying to wring connection to myself out of tumblr.

i didn’t fully accept the reasons for the lull, though. it’s true that i’ve had natural lulls before even knowing i was alterhuman, but i pretended that was all it was.

since the lull began there’s been a few spotty days where my connection feels stronger, but hardly ever to the strength i felt it before, and hardly for longer than a day or two.

what really worries me is that the only kintype i feel consistently connected to now is being a pearl fox (and avian-humanoid, but that’s less of a species and more just limbs that almost always feel comfortable to me. and dragons, which feel more like otherheartedness, but i always get shifty about those whenever i interact with dragon content). but even being a pearl fox feels more distant than it did. all my types felt very real as i was feeling them, but i worry that they won’t come back. what if they were hyperfixation-induced identities, and now that the hyperfixation has abated, i’ll never feel like them again? 

because i am a psychological alterhuman. i’m at the whims of my own subconscious. i think i definitely was everything i said i was back then at the time i said it, but i don’t feel like i am anymore, not in the same way. i tried, but i can’t force it to come back. i’m still not quite sure why it left.

to be honest, the only thing that’s keeping me from completely doubting if i’m alterhuman at all is remembering how i found out i was alterhuman in the first place.

i acted nonhuman (specifically, cat-like) since i was eight, until i was shamed out of it.

i constantly pictured myself as a dragon and had dragon phantom limbs around the ages of eleven-thirteenish.

right before finding out about alterhumanity in 2023, i realized i was placing an unusual amount of weight on the question “what is your favorite animal.” my answer had been cats as long as i could remember, but that had become increasingly uncomfortable to say in recent years (dysphoric, in hindsight). i felt that my favorite animal had to encapsulate my personality, and for some reason, cats no longer did. i realized i was drawn more to foxes the same week i learned about alterhumanity. 

i kind of wish i had learned about alterhumanity a bit later than i did. a couple months later maybe, that would’ve been ideal. give myself more time to learn about foxes and i connect to them on my own, without getting it tangled up in preconceptions, yknow?

because red foxes? the species that pearl foxes are a color morph of? i initially discarded them too quickly, because i didn’t feel connected to the classic red fox color morph. so i went searching for a whole different fox species, and found bat-eared foxes. it’s hard to describe in with words, but think that made everything a lot messier in the months afterward.

i’ve always had a fascination and connection with dragons, which hasn’t faded in the same way my connection with cats did, but i’m wondering if i was too eager to call it a kintype. i’m definitely at least dragonhearted, that’s for sure. i’ve definitely been a dragon before. i think i’ve been all the kintypes i list in my intro post, but i don’t know if that being was something that was ever meant to last.

i’m thinking about the list of animals i wrote down before discovering alterhumanity, when i was trying to figure out which creature was my favorite. i think i want to go back to before i found out about bat-eared foxes, and i want to start from scratch. make absolutely sure i’m not tying myself to an exceptionally long, hyperfixation-induced cameo shift. they have all been very important to me, and still are in many ways, and i’ve been scared that admitting to myself that things might have Changed and that it would mean they could never be important to me again. but that’s silly. they can be important again if that happens to happen.

i’ve only been awakened for what, a little over year now? compared to so many other alterhumans, i’m just a kit. i’ve barely started my journey with nonhumanity.

so i’m tentatively starting with a new status quo; i am a pearl fox.

i think i’m comfortable saying that, but i need to parse what exactly that means to me. i’m less so a pearl fox in a real-world all-fours fox kinda way (though it feels like that some rare occasions). i’m more so a fox in fable-trickster-figure kinda way, creative and clever and skulking around. (i think that may be where my fae/changeling kintype came from — it melds with my pearl fox ‘type in a way that may mean it’s not entirely its own thing. i don’t feel comfortable calling myself a fae anymore, not in a literal way. changeling i still have to think about.) sometimes i feel more like a pearl fox in a grungy way; less whimsical, more grounded, listening to rough music and wanting more from life. sometimes being a pearl fox feels more like a metaphor: a metaphor for how various parts of my identity has been dehumanized, and a channel to express the parts of me that snuck around to stay safe.

but it always, in some way, feels like me. it feels like it fits my pre-awakening criteria for a favorite animal: an animal that can encompass my personality completely.

i should probably make a new intro post with this info soon, but i’m not quite sure how to explain it in that format yet. but i’m happier now that i’ve figured this out. all my other kintypes, and even my hearttype and hearthome, i want to put away for now. not necessarily abandon forever; if the connection is still there in some form, they’ll come back. but i want to make sure i’m not forcing myself to make them stick around.

so yeah, reintroduction, i guess! i’m vuldra, i’m a pearl fox, and i don’t know if that’s ‘heartedness or ‘kinity or both in fluctuation.

[reorientation]

I’ve been a lesbian a for about ten years. I’ve only ever been in relationships with cis-women and I’m a gold star lesbian. I’ve always had a breeding kink but things have changed. My last relationship ended over a year ago and there were times while in that relationship my girlfriend would say I’d leave her for a man and that I wasn’t a lesbian. We eventually broke up but not because I had left her for a man. In the over a year since we’ve broken up I’ve found myself more and more desperate to be bred and knocked up.

This growing desperation led me back on to Tumblr and I fell down the rabbit hole that led me here. Now all I can seem to think about is being made to submit to a man who turns me from smart and independent to just a dumb little girl desperate to be kept bare foot and pregnant. It makes me so wet to think about what it would be like to give up everything to just become a breeding bimbo for some man.

I don’t know how to escape these feelings. I don’t know how to stop getting wet from such thoughts. It’d ruin my life if I just gave everything up to serve men and get pregnant. I’m resisting as hard as I can, trying to remind myself I’m a lesbian and hate cock but it’s so hard and I end up masturbating to the fantasy every night.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to stop all these thoughts soon and that I don’t make any dumb decisions. Thank you for creating a place where I could let this all out (love the blog, keep it up)!

-🌸💕

Oh, you poor thing. ❤️ It's so hard, isn't it? Knowing that your gold star is all that stands between you and a swelling belly. Having those little pink thoughts about being an empty-headed slut for a man find their way to your pussy, and stay there, making you ache with emptiness.

It must be very confusing for you. Your head tells you that you're a lesbian, that you've shaped your whole life around that, but your womb keeps whispering to you about there being another way. A new purpose. A whole new identity, where all you would have to do is what comes naturally.

I'm sure you won't do anything ill-advised, though, right? You're smart. You're not really a brainless breeding bitch, are you? No matter how good that sounds. No matter how many nights you've come hard to the thought of a man giving you an empty head and a full belly.

I mean, you're a lesbian, aren't you? It's not like you need a man to make you complete.

[skelswritingcorner]

A Question, A Scar-Covered Body, A Sister?

Part 2 of A Stranger, A Vessel, An Experiment! Read the first part here.

Synopsis: After the incident on the Lost Light, First Aid brings Ailith (canon name of reader characters) to her original destination of the clinic.. However, there was a gift waiting for her when they arrived. Angst galore.

She/Her pronouns are now used when referring to the reader character.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: SFW, Mentions of blood, mentioned kidnapping, mentions of unethical experimentation, probably some other stuff

(Edit: I forgot to turn some layers back on when I originally saved the image oop- It's fixed now)

Before the story…

It was a broadcast from Earth, of an interview with a black-haired woman. “Miss Makayla MacArthur,” the interviewer asked, “what motivated you to join the Intergalactic Negotiations Program?”

Makayla sighed, “Twenty something years ago, my twin got abducted. They were alien creatures, and they took her. I strongly believe that she’s still alive out there. This is the best opportunity I have to find her.”

The interviewer’s face softened, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Makayla. What will you do when you find her?”

“It depends. Will we realize that we’re sisters when we meet? I’ll try to bring her back to Earth, even if it’s for a brief moment. She doesn’t know about our niece! A family reunion would be in order. We’ll have so much to catch up on.” She put her hands in a steeple.

“Do you have something you plan on giving her?”

“Well…” Makayla sighed, “I plan on giving her a box and a letter. I won’t refer to her by name though.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, it’s been twenty years! I don’t think my sister remembers it, so I don’t want to call her something she won’t recognize.”

The interviewer leaned forward, “What else will be in the box?”

Makayla started counting on her fingers, “A few photos, and clothes. We’re identical twins, so what fits me is probably gonna fit her.”

The interview went on for another twenty minutes, and eventually concluded. The blue-visored Cybertronian finished recording the interview. He had a feeling that this could be relevant.

✩✩✩

“So,” Ultra Magnus looked at Rodimus, “the small object was in fact, a ship. Is that correct?”

Rodimus nodded, “And it had a human inside it, who is currently in the medbay recovering from her injuries.”

“Along with that,” he scrolled through the datapad, “there were documents about experiments, most likely performed on her. Ratchet did a scan that confirmed this as well, along with other various injuries.”

Rodimus gave the datapad to Magnus, who looked at the report. He tilted his helm. “What’s with this thing slightly above the pelvis?” He pointed a digit at a white shape around the pelvic area, overlapped by a crescent-shaped trauma area.

“Beats me. I’m pretty confident that it’s deep inside her.” Rodimus shrugged.

“Maybe there’s another document we haven’t gotten yet explaining it. Hidden in a more obscure place.”

“That’s probably the case. Anyway,” Rodimus stood up, “I’m gonna go ask Ratchet about Y/N’s condition. If Megatron is confused, explain the situation if he hasn’t gotten one yet. Also, inform the others on Cybertron.” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply leaving the office and walking to the medbay.

The doors to the medbay opened, and Rodimus saw a familiar gray figure.

“Megatron?!”

✩✩✩

When you woke up, the helms of several people were looking down at you. One you recognized as Perceptor, another being Drift, but there were a few unfamiliar faces. One had an orange face with yellow eyes with a mask covering his mouth, another that was white and purple and had horns coming from their forehead, a blue one with a single yellow optic, and a gray one with red optics.

“So this is the human you all have been speaking of?” The gray one asked.

“How in Primus are they so small?!” The blue one asked. Loudly. Making you get up and give them a stink eye, even if it caused you a bit of pain.

A chuckle to your left distracts you, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to crowd around someone that’s injured.”

The blue one rolled his eye, “Whatever you say, eyebrows.”

The doors opened, and someone entered the medbay.

“Megatron?!” Rodimus yelled.

Oh. You know that name. Other mercenaries have warned you about a giant robot with that name. If you caught his eye, you were doomed. After all, the group he led destroyed the homelands of several mercenaries you knew.

“Perceptor explained everything to me,” Megatron said, “I just had to see for myself. Humans usually aren’t present in this solar system.”

“Well,” you cracked your knuckles, “I haven’t seen any humans other than myself during my travels. Also, most of the people who hire me don’t know either. I like to keep my identity… well-hidden from the masses. I barely know who I am anyway, so it’s easy to do that.”

“You don’t even know yourself?” Ah, the purple one is speaking now.

“It’s hyperbole, but technically true,” you rolled up the sleeve of your left arm, “I don’t know my family, my ancestry, or any way to return to my birth planet. All I know is that I was experimented on to be sold as a smuggler. That, and the skills I acquired after years of being a mercenary.”

The purple one put a clawed servo on his chin. “Tailgate told me as such.”

Rodimus walked up to you. “How did you even end up like that, anyway? The injuries, not the… subspace thingies.”

You sighed. Might as well explain it now. “It was when I was doing a job,” you explained, “I got myself hurt pretty badly, but my client didn’t get a scratch. They tried to have me go to a clinic nearby after the job was done, but I told them that I’d be alright.”

“Why did you do that, though?” Drift’s optical ridge furrowed, “Your client knew you got hurt, why didn’t you heed their advice?”

“The moment I receive my payments in full, the contract ends. They are no longer my client, and therefore no longer obligated to show concern about my wellbeing.” you growled out the last part.

“You should’ve listened to them, though.” You sighed at that comment.

“As I said earlier, I was experimented on,” you justified yourself, “if I went to another clinic, they’d essentially keep me captive and do a bunch of tests on me. That, and I don’t know if any of them are connected to the experiments and will try to bring me back to that wretched place. And I’d rather not have to deal with them again.”

“Why do you go to one specific clinic, then?” The purple one asked.

“Cyclonus, I think that might be too-” you cut off Drift from saying anything more.

“It’s because the sister of the mercenary who took me in works there. The people there were the first to treat me with empathy, despite me being so difficult to them the first time. All the other clinics I’ve been to, they’ve been too scared of me and think I’ll mangle them.”

They’re all looking at you.

The blue one laughed, “You, scary? You’re not scary at all!”

“I think that’s when she’s wearing her mask and cloak, Whirl.” Drift said. You nodded, confirming his guess.

“Anyway,” Rodimus ordered, “let’s give the human some privacy. Perceptor, Brainstorm, you both plan on asking her about the documents that have been translated, right?”

“Correct.”

“I’ll leave you two to it then.” Rodimus left the medbay, followed by most of the others. Perceptor and the one with the yellow eyes stayed. That must be Brainstorm.

Perceptor took out a datapad, looking over at some data. “I’ve looked through all of the documents, along with Ratchet’s scans of you. I’d like you to confirm some things.”

“Go ahead.” You gestured.

“According to these documents, you’re from Earth. Do you have any memories of that planet?”

You shook your head. No shit you didn’t remember anything, you were a year old! “Some species don’t have memories until they’re a few years old. I was taken at roughly eighteen months old, way too young to form memories.”

“That’s strange. We Cybertronians remember everything from when we were first created, excluding amnesia.”

Perceptor wrote something on the datapad before asking another question, “Were your eyes originally golden?”

“Nope. I’ve read those documents multiple times, my eyes were originally brown.”

“Isn’t gold also the color of the subspace openings on your body?”

Well, damn. “Yes? It was also the case for the other experiments.”

“Now, a third question. Do you know what this thing is?” Perceptor pointed to the intrusion shown on the datapad.

Right. That. The documents explaining it are in the subspace on your left arm as far as you recall. As it was inside your uterus, however, it’s something very few know about. And you’d rather not explain to a bunch of mechanical beings something you only know the basics of.

“I think that’s none of your business, Perceptor.” you crossed your arms. They likely don’t have ultrasounds on the Lost Light anyway, so it’ll be hard for them to find out.

The mech grumbled. “You’re making this difficult for yourself, Y/N.”

“Explain why you want to know what it is so bad then.” You stared directly into his optics, “Because it’s pretty fuckin personal. And don’t just say ‘I need to know for scientific reasons’ either. You better have a good justification.”

“Because it might be a dangerous object that could kill you, and may need to be removed.” Perceptor justified.

You scoffed. Based on the documents you stole, it just prevents fertility and menstruation until removed. Prevents uterine lining from building up. All the uterus-having subjects (or an organ with similar functions), including yourself, had it implanted once puberty was entered. So far, there’s been no complications.

“I’ve had it for twelve years and it hasn’t killed me yet.”

“How has it not-”

Laughter. You and Perceptor looked at the source: Brainstorm laughing his ass off.

He composed himself, “Sorry, sorry. It’s just the way you two are bickering. I’m confident that the object is medical in nature. It’s meant to prevent pregnancies, correct?”

Right on the money. “Surprised to hear you figured it out without cutting me open to check, but you are indeed correct.” you put your hands on your hips.

“So I am right!” Brainstorm smiled with his eyes. “Also, can you show us how the subspace works? Are you able to pull something out?”

Say no more. You put a hand in the subspace on your left arm, pulling out a mechanical object. Something you won after a bet.

“That’s… an optic. An actual optic. How did you get this?” Perceptor asked.

“I got it after winning a bet.” you replied.

“What kind of bet would lead you to owning a Cybertronian optic?”

“Drinking contest. I don’t know why they even placed the bet in the first place, it’s common knowledge that no matter how much I drink I physically can’t get drunk. I’ve tried several times.”

Brainstorm chuckled, “If you could even consume highgrade, Swerve would love you as a customer. It would be a good experiment if you could.”

“That would be one of the few experiments I’d consent to,” you chuckled, “once my injuries have finished recovering, that is.”

Oh. You just remembered. “I just realized that I should probably go to that clinic. I lost a good amount of blood, I might need a blood transfusion.” you grimaced.

“That makes sense. I believe Ratchet and First Aid were communicating with someone at the clinic you mentioned. You had the coordinates set on your ship’s navigator, correct?” You nodded at Perceptor’s question.

“It’s possible that holoforms may need to be used to get you there,” he commented, “I don’t know how large the facility is.”

“It’s pretty big, actually.” you replied, “I’m probably their smallest regular patient, which makes some things a bit difficult to do. Most rooms are about four times my height. I’m sure at least one of y’all can fit without feeling cramped.”

Well, at least the smaller ones. Probably First Aid.

“I’ll inform Ratchet, then.” Perceptor nodded, then left the medbay. Brainstorm quickly followed.

You’re gonna need a plan. Your main grappling hook was taken from you while you were asleep, and those two likely have it. You have spares, yes, but you’d rather have all of them in case one breaks. You also need to find where your ship is, as most of your supplies are still inside along with your spare clothes. What you’re wearing right now is bloody, and you’d like to wear something that is not covered in your own blood. The magnet boots should help when dealing with the Cybertronians and navigating the vessel.

Along with that, you need to figure out how to deal with them if any try to kill you. The blasters in the subspaces should work at least a little, but do you have any weapons that can give you an advantage? You have cable cutters, but that will only work if their cables are exposed. Can any of your blades cut through their armor? If you’re able to, you might need to see if any weapon dealers around these parts have anything that can give you the ability to fight them. Trying to sneak away for long enough to get them is another story entirely, though.

The door opened. Ratchet and First Aid walked in, with First Aid beelining to you. “We established a connection to the clinic!” he exclaimed, “When we told them about you and your injuries, they told us to bring you there as soon as we can. Also, apparently there’s something for you there? They said it’s best if they tell you about it when you arrive.”

“As long as you can get me to my ship so I can change out of these blood-covered clothes.” you said. It’s likely the best way for you to figure out where your ship went if they can bring you to it.

“The ship’s probably with Nautica, she wanted to check it out. I’ll escort you there.” First Aid picked you up with a delicate grip, likely to prevent accidentally hurting you. Given the strange condition of your body, however, you’re probably gonna end up dislocating a joint before he harms you.

Entering the room, you saw a purple and yellow Cybertronian. Most likely Nautica.

“Hey there! That must be the owner of this ship, right?” She reached a servo to you, “I’m Nautica. Nice to finally meet you!”

You couldn’t do a proper handshake with Nautica, so you just held her pointer finger and shook it.

“I’d like to enter my ship to get something. Is that alright with you?” you asked.

“Of course! I made sure to clean the blood where I could. Had to use my holoform to do that, though. Here, I’ll carry you to it.” she picked you up gently, transferring you to the entrance of your ship.

“Thank yo- ack!” you stumbled, quickly being caught by Nautica.

“Be careful!” she exclaimed.

First Aid grabbed you. You didn’t know how he got up to where you were so quickly, but before you knew it he was holding you up. “I’ll help Y/N. It’s probably a bad idea to let her be alone for a long period of time with her blood loss anyway.”

Oh, this might get uncomfortable fast. You were fine with First Aid seeing you all battered up and bloody, but the concept of him watching as you got changed made your stomach flip. And you’d rather not show your tits and bits to someone you’ve only known for a single solar cycle.

Before you could protest, though, he carried you to your ship. While he did put you down on your feet, he waited a bit before letting go. He even followed you to your quarters, where you hastily grabbed a crop top and a pair of pants. You’d grab a jacket after changing. When he tried to follow you into the bathroom, you put a hand over his chassis. “You’re not going in here. I don’t know how y’all view nudity, but for us we usually don’t do that around people we’ve only met for a day.”

“Oh!” First Aid backed up, “Sorry about that. Nurse instincts, I guess.”

You walked in, closing the door behind you. There’s no windows in the bathroom, so he couldn’t peek even if he tried. You knew he had innocent intentions, nothing perverted or anything, but you needed some time to yourself.

Quickly removing your blood-stained clothes, you ran some water and used a cloth to clean some dried blood off your body. After cleaning what you could, you put on the clean clothes. You’d usually not wear a crop top, but at this point you didn’t care. You had a jacket anyway.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, holding a hand over the stitches. Despite Ratchet being significantly bigger, the stitches were done expertly. You looked at all your old scars, and at the subspace entrances on your body. Never were a fan of looking at ‘em, it always reminded you of the fact that you’ve been mutilated. Not enough to be unrecognizable as a living being, but enough that people would stare if they knew. It’s why you covered yourself entirely. Strangers have no right to know what’s going on with your body after all, why should they look at it? Of course, you couldn’t do that with the ones on this vessel; they all know. Might as well not hide it.

Walking out the bathroom, First Aid was just standing there. At least he didn’t try anything, that was reassuring. You went back to where your jacket was, back turned to him.

“What’s that purple and blue thing on your back?” he asked. An innocent question.

Shit.

You always knew that you bruised easily, most likely a consequence of a condition you have but don’t know the actual name of, but you didn’t expect that the fall from yesterday would bruise you.

“It’s a bruise. I don’t know why, but it’s pretty easy for me to get bruised. It’s an organic thing, it takes a few days to heal. Don’t worry though, as long as I’m careful it won’t hurt.” you explained, putting on your jacket. “I’m ready now, let’s go to the clinic.”

First Aid picked you up, being mindful of your back. Nautica helped the both of you down, but not without making a comment about the fact that he was holding you.

“That worried? You’re holding her like she’s made of glass.” Nautica commented.

“Y/N’s still my patient, and is still recovering!” he countered, “Also, humans are way more fragile than Cybertronians! It makes sense to be careful!”

Oh, if he knew about how roughly you’ve been tossed around in fights. Or how roughly you’re often treated in general. In fact, being treated so softly was unfamiliar to you, but a welcome unfamiliarity. How they’re gonna freak out if they pop a limb out its socket if that happens will be priceless when it happens.

The both of you walked, well, technically just First Aid since he was carrying you, to a smaller ship docked in the vessel.

Why is Rodimus there?

“Hey, Captain!” First Aid greeted the orange mech, who was waiting by the smaller vessel.

“Yo! I wanted to get here before you two left. How’s Y/N’s condition?”

“The usual. I did experience some blood loss, so I might be at the clinic for a solar cycle or two. That, and I’d like this injury to be documented with them.” you replied.

“Also, there’s a nasty blue and purple spot on her back that she says is fine but I’m not sure if it is.” First Aid added. If you could, you would’ve covered his mouth. You couldn’t though, so you gave him a stink eye. Fucking snitch.

Rodimus took a bit to reply, “Oh. I’m neither a medic nor an expert on humans, so I’m not going to try reassuring you.”

“Aaaaanyway,” Rodimus started walking away, “Mags needs me for a meeting since Y/N is probably going to have not much choice in staying on the Lost Light with those injuries. Something something ‘We need to inform the officials on Cybertron about the organic on the ship.’ See you two later!”

You looked up at First Aid, “Who’s Mags?”

“Ultra Magnus. He was the one who noticed your ship and the blood coming out of it, surprisingly. Best not to call him Mags though, something about shortening a senior officer’s name being an offense.”

You understood that. A lot of people in important positions don’t like having nicknames, likely because it makes them appear less threatening if they accept a nickname. It’s something you’ve weaponized when doing non-bodyguard work, but the people here don’t need to know that.

When you and First Aid entered the ship, the coordinates were already set. First Aid placed you near the navigator, making sure that you wouldn’t fall.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Luckily, the ride was rather smooth and quiet. Neither of you said anything until the vessel docked.

“We’re here, I’ll carry you to the entrance.” First Aid picked you up, and carried you there.

✩✩✩

“Welcome! What’s the purpose of your- Y/N?!” the receptionist jumped up from her seat, walking up to the both of you.

“What happened? Why are you being held by a Cybertronian?!”

“Y/N was injured badly, a spike impaled her, a cut on her back, and what I think is a bullet hole in her right cadulen.” First Aid explained. “We didn’t know that her ship was the one sending an emergency signal at first. We patched her up as best we could, but she mentioned needing a blood transfusion since she lost a good amount of blood.”

The explanation eased the receptionist. “That’s good. I’m glad that she’s alright. I’ll inform the doctors right away.”

Using her communicator, she informed the doctors on call. After a minute, an all familiar face walked up.

She was a being with four yellow eyes and light red skin, with tendrils coming from her skull neatly tied behind her. Relatively human, but still noticeably not. This is the one person who you consider family right now; Doctor Daule. You call her Aunt Daule, however.

One set of arms held a datapad, with the other set crossed in front of her. She had to look up to see you.

“Eirii told me. Are you able to walk?” she asked.

“Oh! Sorry,” First Aid set you down, making sure that you could stand before letting you go, “She stumbled some time ago, so I thought it was best if I carried her. I’m also a little uneasy about transferring my patient.”

“Don’t worry,” Daule smiled, “I’ve known Y/N for years. You can trust her with me. Besides, a group of humans just came by last solar cycle. I took a DNA sample from one that looks a lot like her, and she gave me something to give to Y/N.”

Wait, someone that looks a lot like you? You’ll have to ask later. Aunt Daule supported you with her right arms. “You’re also a medical professional, correct? You can come with me, I have some questions for you.”

First Aid followed the both of you. Aunt Daule walked you into a room where the IV was just finished being prepared, setting you down on the bed. As a nurse prepared your arm for the IV, you asked a few questions.

“You said someone that looked like me was here, right? Do you know their name?” you asked.

“She said her name’s Makayla.” Daule answered.

“Is she still here?”

Daule shook her head, “No, she left the same day she came. Makes sense though, she had to bring her injured colleague to us. She wanted to stay in case you came by, but her Captain needed her somewhere else.”

Oh. Guess reuniting with family needs to wait.

“You mentioned getting her DNA, is there a match? Do you need another saliva sample? I haven’t eaten anything in the past solar cycle, so I should be fine on that.”

“It matched pretty quickly, said there was almost no genetic deviations between either of you too. Anyway,” she walked over to pat you on the head, “I’m going to talk with him for a bit,” she gestured to First Aid, “the nurses will check you out. I’ll be back soon.”

They both left, leaving you with the whir of machines and the feeling of lightheadedness slowly leaving your body as the blood dripped into you.

✩✩✩

The two walked into an office. Daule sat down in the chair. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Dr. Daule, I mostly take care of the smaller species at this facility. I was also Y/N’s caretaker for some time.”

First Aid nodded, “I’m First Aid. Currently stationed on the Lost Light as the Chief Medical Officer-in-training.”

“You’re a medic, that’s good. That means some of these concepts should be somewhat familiar to you. But first,” she put her top hands in a steeple, “how did you end up finding her? From my knowledge, Cybertronians are not only rare around these parts, but also one of the largest species in the universe.”

“We noticed an emergency signal coming from a vessel, and one of the people captured what turned out to be her ship and put it somewhere. Eventually, the second in command noticed that the entrance was open and that there was a blood trail leading out. I was with the CMO preparing the medbay. We were able to take care of her, but as I’m not that familiar with organic biology, I had a feeling that it would be best to bring her to people who can actually treat her.” First Aid answered.

“I’m glad that you found her and did all you could. In fact, I think it might be best if she stays with you until she’s fully healed.”

The mech stalled, “Why do you say that? It’s likely best if she stays here, right?”

“Well,” Dr. Daule grimaced, “there’s been a recent incident that’s making our clinic a little bit packed. Y/N doesn’t need to be here for too long, probably just a cycle or two then have her return to get the stitches out in fourteen cycles. Besides, she needs to socialize more.”

“Oh! That makes sense. Just give me the care instructions, I’ll inform everyone once I get back on the ship. It’s best if we all know so we can prevent Y/N from being reckless.” First Aid nodded.

“Once the nurses come back and tell me what’s going on, I’ll write a care plan. Make sure she doesn’t do anything strenuous, the stitches might break." She said, “Also, there was no dressing on the stitches, so we’re going to add some. I’d rather not have the stitches redone if possible, they’ve been done rather well.”

“Anyway,” Dr. Daule got up and walked to the door after grabbing a box, “I’m going to check on her. This is what her sister asked me to give her. Follow me.”

✩✩✩

The nurses did plenty of checks on you, along with putting dressing on the stitches. After some time, Aunt Daule and First Aid returned. There was a blue box held in her lower arms.

“What’s with the box?” you asked.

Aunt Daule brought the box to you. “Your sister brought this to us. Said this was for you, in case you were alive. I know it feels weird to get something from someone you haven’t known since infancy, but try not to think about it too much, Y/N.”

You opened the box, opening the letter. It was in the language the planet you were raised on spoke.

My dear sister,

How long has it been since you were taken from home? Twenty years? We couldn’t even hold our heads up back then, and now it’s possible for us to meet again at a bar and drink together. I miss you so much and I’ve known you for so little. It’s ironic in a way; identical twins who won’t even recognize each other. You’ve shaped my life in so many ways. Even as you were declared dead, I never stopped searching for you. I’d look up at the night sky and wave, imagining you waving back at me. I went into astronomy, learned all I could about the world beyond Earth, with the thought of meeting you again.

I joined a space exploration program for the possibility of seeing you again. I knew you were somewhere out there. If you’re reading this, then I was right all along.

I know the possibility of you being alive is slim, but if you are, I’d like you to have these. The clothes you have might look weird on Earth, right? I bought some and washed them for you. I don’t know what style you like, so I mostly went with simple solid-colored stuff. Mostly black. I feel like you’d like black.

On the back of this letter are some coordinates and addresses. These are the places mom, dad, and I live. And our big sister too! I can’t wait for you to meet our niece. When we meet again, tell me your name, okay? I want to address you properly.

Your long-lost twin,

Makayla MacArthur

P.S. We have a weird gene that makes it so we can’t get drunk no matter how much alcohol we drink. You might’ve figured that out already, though.

Opening the box, the first thing you saw was a picture of a little girl next to two swaddled-up infants. The girl had black hair and brown eyes. Two pieces of paper had names, and the one on the right simply said ‘When you tell us your name again.’

It was you. You and your sisters. Another photo, far more recent, was of an older woman holding a child. The note on that said, ‘It’s our niece! Hope you don’t mind Chloe using your old name for her middle name.’

There was a third picture, with who you believe is Makayla, in a night blue uniform. She looks almost exactly like you, without all the experiments and scars. Brown eyes instead of your golden colored irises.

You thought you were a lost cause. That nobody would be looking for you on Earth. Oh, Makayla, how she proved you so, so wrong.

MacArthur. MacArthur. Y/N MacArthur. It’s going to take getting used to having a family name. An identity beyond being an experiment.

“Also, apparently the elasticity of your skin and flexibility isn’t normal for humans. According to your sister, it’s because of a condition called Ehler-Danlos Syndrome. I’ll explain some of the other things she explained once your scars are healed.” Daule added. “I’ll write up a care plan for you. You’ll be staying on the vessel that found you until you’re fully recovered.”

Honestly? You’re fine with that. The people on the Lost Light have all been kind to you so far, especially First Aid. Kinder than most people from the planet you’ve lived on for your whole life, despite knowing nothing about you.

“That’s fine with me.”

“Well then. Rest up, you’re gonna need it Y/N.”

[tsunami-of-tears]

A Court of Shadows and Sunshine — Part Eight

Azriel x Aurora (OC)

Summary: Uncle Helion makes an appearance and has some explaining to do. As usual, Rhys is a huge gossip! 

A/N: Now I know Rhys + Nesta don’t get along in the books, but I like to think they’ve bonded over playing matchmaker.  

Wordcount: 2.6K

Warnings: Angst! Slightly sexual themes (slightly), attempted SA/SH, violence

Part Seven

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

Aurora 

“Hello, my dear niece. It’s been too long.” 

Through the fresh bond, you feel Azriel’s confusion turn to relief. You only feel confused. 

Helion glances between you both, his face is neutral aside from the slight quirking of a brow. “The cauldron does have a sense of humour.”

Rhys presses his lips firmly together to form a straight line, as if he had to force his mouth closed to keep from speaking.

Your wide eyes flick between the two High Lords, “What do you mean, niece?” 

“I’m afraid I have quite a bit of explaining to do, you will want to sit for this,” Helion continues, gesturing to the lounge behind you. 

Azriel remains close to your side as everyone takes a seat in the spacious office. You fold your arms over your chest and wait for Helion to speak.

“You already knew that your mother was from the Day Court, but we lied about her parentage. Helena was my younger sister.” Helion gives you a small, sad smile as if reminiscing on their childhood in Day. “Your parents met during the war, they were fighting for opposing sides when their mating bond snapped.” 

You nod in acknowledgement as Helion continues his explanation, you’d grown up hearing stories about your parents’ early relationship and what they overcame to be together. You’d dreamed of finding your own mate one day. 

Helion continues, “Your father, Ortun, hadn’t been happy with his king and the war. Being mated to Helena was the final straw for him. From that moment on, he became one of my spies.” You feel Azriel tensing slightly beside you. “To protect himself and Helena, and eventually you, they lied about her true identity and powers.”

You lean forward on your knees, running your hands through your hair. You look back up at Helion with furrowed brows.

 “How could they keep this from me?” You ask him, glaring into his amber eyes. 

“We were preparing to tell you, but Amarantha foiled that.” Helion pauses, averting your glare. “I couldn’t protect anyone else I loved. No one knew who you were, so Rhys was able to hide you here.”

Finally, everything is falling into place. You rise to your feet and start to pace as the information swirls around in your brain, filling in the missing pieces from your memories. It’s why you always travelled with your father, why you spent so much time in Prythian, why the High Lords saved you… 

You stop pacing and look straight at the High Lords in front of you. “What does this mean?” You question. You turn towards Rhysand, “Are you sending me away?” Your voice cracks as you think of the incident with Cassian. 

Rhys shakes his head. “Never, Rory. It’s entirely up to you where you wish to live. I just want to help you.”

“How do you plan to help? Haven’t you done enough for me?” Tears well in your eyes, and you slump down beside Azriel again. He laces his scarred fingers with yours, grounding you. You feel his unconditional support flowing down the bond. 

“Your powers are strong,” Helion starts. “You can learn to control them, so they don’t control you. I’ll teach you. There are no conditions, you’re my kin. Whether you wish to be a part of my court, Rhys’s, or neither, is entirely up to you. Whatever you choose, you will always have a home in Day.”

You look up from your hand joined with Azriel’s, “Velaris is my home.” 

Helion looks between you both and nods, “Of course, I understand. You’ll still have to visit though. Maybe for your birthday?” Helion offers. “It’s the big one hundred, and you can’t spend the longest day in the Night Court.”

Rhys lets out a dark chuckle. “You mean to tell me, you were born on the Summer Solstice?” He gives you an incredulous look. “You have light powers, your mate is a shadowsinger, and you were born on the longest day of the year. Gods, that’s like something you’d read in a story.” 

You laugh. A real laugh that fills your heart and overflows into your soul. The information you’ve received today doesn’t change anything substantial. Looking over at your mate you feel at peace. You know that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be - like the cauldron willed you to be in this very room at this moment.

————

Azriel

One hundred. Aurora is only one hundred.

Azriel hadn’t realised quite how young she was, and it almost broke him. 

She’d spent fifty years mostly by herself in Velaris until the fateful day Nesta and Gwyn visited her studio. 

That’s half her life without her family, without a support system. She’s so young, and yet she’s been through so much. 

Azriel looks down at their intertwined fingers. His shadows swirl around them but they don’t dim her sparkle, they make her shine brighter. 

Never again, Azriel vowed. Never again would Aurora feel alone.

————

Rhysand

Emergency meeting. River House. Now!

Rhys is pacing excitedly in his study, he clenches his fists to stop them from shaking. He hears the sound of flapping wings getting closer, and then multiple sets of footsteps coming down the hall. He turns as his inner circle enters the room.

Cassian, Nesta and Amren remain standing while Mor, Elain and Feyre take up seats in the cream armchairs. Everyone exchanges confused glances while Feyre arches an eyebrow at her mate, wondering what has him leaping out of his skin.

Cassian looks around the room, surveying everyone who has gathered. “Where’s Azriel?” He asks. Elain pales slightly. 

“Azriel is why I called you all here.” Rhys grins widely. “It finally happened.” 

Everyone starts talking at once, “What happened?” “What’s going on?” “Is he okay?” 

Amren shushes everyone, “Come on, spit it out, boy.” 

Rhys responds by showing the group his memory from that morning. 

Your conversation with Helion is cut off as the powerful sound of wings draws closer. You peer out the front window from behind a drawn curtain and see Azriel and Aurora standing on the path leading up to your front door. They appear to be having a serious conversation. 

Aurora reaches towards Azriel and takes a step closer to him. You let out a loud gasp as Azriel wraps his arms around her waist, pulling their bodies together.

Their lips touch, softly and tenderly, and Aurora starts to glow - a golden flicker of light entangled with Azriel’s dark shadows. 

You turn back to Helion, unable to stop smiling. “Please excuse me for a moment,” You say, rushing to the front door. 

You open the door wide and see that the initially gentle kiss has turned into one that is much more heated. You curse internally, hating that you have to interrupt this moment, but you’re also quite pleased to have witnessed it yourself. 

“Ahem,” You cough.

Aurora and Azriel part abruptly. They both take a step back with wide eyes and flushed red cheeks. You smirk, knowing they were so caught up in the moment that they hadn’t noticed your presence. 

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” You purr. “But I have an important guest we’re keeping waiting.” You step to the side to let them in, Aurora looks down at her feet in an attempt to hide the deepening blush on her face. 

As the pair get closer, the scent slams into you, overwhelming your senses. Azriel’s usual night-chilled mist is now intertwined with something warmer - fragrant jasmine and liquid amber, like a balmy summer evening. 

As Aurora steps past, your eyes snap to Azriel’s, who is giving you a cold, unimpressed glare. You tap on his mental shields with your sharp talons, ‘What’s the matter, brother?’ 

Azriel shakes his head at you. ‘You have the worst timing ever. The bond just snapped for her.’ 

‘I’m sorry - I won’t bother you for a few days after this meeting.’ 

Azriel nods in response, following you into the study.

The memory fades away and reveals the shocked faces of the inner circle. 

Nesta smiles at Rhys like a Cheshire cat, “You owe me 100 gold marks, High Lord,” she gloats. “I told you it would snap before Solstice.” 

Cassian turns towards his mate, mouth agape. “You told me I couldn’t bet on this!” He exclaims. 

“That’s because I knew I had the winning bet, it was only a matter of time. She’s my friend, I wasn’t going to share all her secrets with you and your fat mouth.” Nesta chimes back, patting Cassian on the shoulder. 

Cassian huffs, but is quickly smiling again as Nesta plants a smacking kiss on his cheek. 

Amren looks over at Rhys, arms crossed over her chest and her mouth pressed into a firm line. “You called an emergency meeting to gossip?” She asks bluntly. 

“Actually Amren - you, Feyre and I have some important work to discuss,” Rhys says. “Everyone else can go back to whatever they were doing.” Rhys waves his hand, dismissing the group. “Try not to bother the new mates for a few days if you can help it.” 

Cassian smirks at Rhys before his gaze settles on Nesta. She grabs him by the forearm and yanks him out of the room - likely to go enjoy their own mating activities.  

Once the room is cleared, Amren turns back to Rhys. “What are you hiding now? You know I don’t like surprises.”

“We have a new spell-cleaver to train. I need your help preparing some magic wards and curses.” 

“Who are we training?” Amren asks. 

“Aurora. She’s Helion’s niece but she’s decided to remain in Velaris for now. Along with light-generation, she’s inherited his curse-breaking powers.”

“I knew there was more to that girl,” Amren says, her lips curling slightly. “This is good, let’s get started.” 

————

Aurora

After you meet with Helion, your uncle, you and Azriel winnow back to your apartment. You unlock your front door and make to enter but Azriel hesitates. 

“Are you going to stand out there all day?” You ask him playfully. 

Azriel gives you a small smile and shakes his head, stepping into your home. 

He pauses again as he takes in his surroundings. He’d dropped you off countless times before, but he’d never seen inside your space. You suddenly feel self-conscious, aware that your little apartment is not as lavish as what Azriel is used to. 

Though the space is small, you’ve done your best to create a cozy environment. Most of your furnishings are cream and warm timber, with sage green and caramel-coloured accents. It’s fairly minimal, but you do have some trinkets from your travels on display. 

You quickly avert his gaze and head to the kitchen to make some tea. Once the kettle is on, you fiddle with your fingers as you wait. 

Azriel breaks the silence, still looking around, “I wondered what kind of place you lived in. I knew it would be lovely like you, but this is… really cozy and inviting.” He turns and scans your face, scrunching his nose as he notices your discomfort. “Aurora, what’s wrong?” 

You sigh, stepping closer and resting your head against Azriel’s broad chest. “It’s been a big day, I feel like my entire life has been shattered. I’m not sure what to do now,” You admit quietly. 

He tilts your chin gently so you look straight at him. “I understand if you don’t want this. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” 

Your heart aches at his words and you pull him into a tight hug. “Of course I want you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “It’s everything else - my powers, my family. I never expected this.” 

Azriel rubs your lower back in comfort. “I’ll be here through it all, we can figure it out together.”

Standing on your toes, you press your lips to Azriel’s. The spark in your chest flares into a roaring flame, warming you to your core. Your mouth moves against Azriel’s hungrily. Your tongues dance together as your hands roam each other’s bodies. 

You gasp as Azriel presses into you further and you feel the hard outline of his length against you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can…” You trail off. 

Azriel runs his thumb across your cheek tenderly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” 

You nod but look down, “What if I’m never ready?” You ask softly.

Azriel takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “I am content with this.” He smiles at you before pressing his lips to your skin. 

You pull him close into another firm hug. Azriel sends a wave of reassurance down the bond, you send your gratitude back. You don’t know what you did to deserve such kindness. 

————

Azriel

After spending quite some time in each other’s arms, Aurora and Azriel had a simple dinner and talked for hours. They talked about everything and nothing, feeling comfortable enough to share some of their secrets.

As the night drew onwards and Aurora started to yawn, they moved to her bed. Azriel let Aurora decide the proximity between them - and she eventually fell asleep in Azriel’s arms. 

Now that the bond had snapped for her, Azriel had some final business to attend to. So he carefully slipped his arm out from under Aurora and padded out of the bedroom. In case she woke before he returned, Azriel left a note on the kitchen counter saying he’d be back by the morning. 

Ever since Rhys’s birthday, Azriel has been keeping tabs on Aurora’s attacker - Edward. 

To Azriel’s disgust, the male had a pregnant wife at home. She was likely unaware of what her husband was getting up to, unless she was also a victim. Azriel shuddered at the thought. 

Azriel heads out into the night, making his way towards Edward’s usual haunt - a rather seedy-looking bar in the dodgy part of town. 

The male usually left the bar at 2 am, and Azriel was right on time. He waited across the street, concealed by his shadows, for the male to exit. 

It’s not long before two females exit the bar, arm in arm and struggling to walk in their heels. Following closely behind the females is Edward. 

Azriel waits until they walk past his shadows to make his move. He pounces on Edward who grunts as Azriel’s shadows bind his limbs, restricting his movements. The females scream at the commotion behind them, entirely unaware of the fate that they may have met. 

“I’m sorry to disturb your evening, please go on your way,” Azriel says. The females turn silently and run down the street, away from Azriel and Edward.

“I’ve been watching you for some time, did you think you could get away with this? Especially after laying your hand on my mate.” Azriel said with a calm rage. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Edward cries out. 

“You can play dumb all you want, but I’ve seen what you do. I know who you are and I know your wife is currently with child. Does she know what kinds of recreational activities you get up to?” 

Edward gulps audibly as Azriel unsheaths True Teller and scrapes it across the brick wall next to Edward's head.

“If you ever touch another female without her explicit consent, you won’t have hands. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Edward whimpers in response. 

To make sure the message was received, Azriel lands two strong punches to his stomach. Not hard enough to cause any severe damage, but still enough to leave some bruising. 

Edward doubles over in pain as Azriel winnows away, taking his shadows with him and leaving the male alone in the street.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

A/N: There’s been quite a lot of activity on the individual parts and my masterlists - thank you to all who have interacted with this story. If you’d like to be tagged when I post new parts, please comment/send me a message.

Tags ♡ @mis-lil-red

Part Nine

[thelongcovidhil]

The Beginning

I don’t exactly know where to start, so I guess I’ll start at the very beginning.

It was April of 2022 when I was diagnosed with Covid. I remember exactly how helpless I felt when I saw “DETECTED” on my lab results. For over a week, I suffered the most excruciating Covid pains in my bones, muscles, joints, head and chest. Tissue in my throat died and bled, chills shook me, my brain baked, and I struggled to breathe.

Fearing intubation and certain death, I refused hospitalization and fought through my illness at home with my husband. I often questioned my decision to stay home — especially when my fever bounced between 104 and 103 for days at a time — but my fever and pains eventually subsided, and I felt relatively “normal.”

A few weeks after my Covid diagnosis, my hair began falling out in handfuls.

Six months after my Covid diagnosis, I experienced what we believe was a transient ischemic attack.

Fast forward to 2024 — two years after my Covid diagnosis — and my Long Covid journey truly began.

It was in 2024 when I first heard “Long Covid,” and I think I giggled. I was slightly amused by the term. Even though I was personally suffering from severe brain fog, I found it hard to believe that Covid was the cause. I quickly dismissed my neurological issues, attributing them to stress — even to age. “How could you STILL have Covid years after your infection?” I argued. “It’s a respiratory virus. There’s no way it could be causing memory loss… or brain fog… or anything — especially NOW.”

Then my palpitations intensified. My chest began to ache. And over several months, my heart became increasingly irritable and fatigued. I found myself walking shorter distances before resting. Standing caused a frenzy of heartbeats. Normal tasks exhausted me. My EKG lines spiked and dropped significantly.

Once again, I stubbornly attributed my grumpy body to anything other than “Long Covid.” “Medicine,” I said. “Diet, stress, age. I’m taking something, eating something, doing something. I’m really just getting old. Because… 33 is old, right?”

More and more, I stayed awake at night, gripping my phone — researching Long Covid, reading medical journals, and watching documentaries. The physical heartache was quickly overshadowed by emotional heartache when I realized just how many bodies and lives were being destroyed by Long Covid. Countless. Paralysis, seizures, tremors, heart failure, kidney failure, lung failure, strokes, aneurysms, heart attacks, irreversible brain damage, arrhythmia, joint damage, systemic inflammation... The list of symptoms was endless. I also realized that no two cases of Long Covid were identical, research was extremely limited, treatments were virtually non-existent, and people were dying.

I met with my team of doctors, desperate for answers. They were equally confused. More questions led to more testing which led to even more questions.

“Rest,” they recommended.

In addition to rest, I was required to adjust the dosage of my heart medication — a medication I had taken for 30 years without issue. Since my normal dosage significantly reduced my heart rate and blood pressure, it was no longer compatible with my tired heart. Lowering my dosage provided some relief, but any improvement was temporary. I attempted to wean off the medication completely, but this proved impossible, and it was decided that staying on a lower dosage was “best.”

Aside from resting and adjusting my medication, I completely transformed my diet. I also reduced stress and restricted all physical activity.

But my health continued to decline, and I was still left with a million questions.

What if I’m infected with Covid AGAIN? Will a second infection compound my symptoms? Could I even survive a second infection? Will I suffer from progressive tissue damage my whole life? Will other organs be compromised? How are spike proteins in skull marrow and spinal fluid, and what does that mean? Is there anything else I can do besides “rest” and watch my health deteriorate?

Long Covid is such a novel disease, affecting millions of people in thousands of ways, and most doctors don’t even know where to start.

One thing is becoming clearer, though: Long Covid is selective. Researchers are still far from understanding Long Covid, but a growing body of research suggests that certain genetic groups, such as those with connective tissue disorders, are more susceptible to the debilitating effects of Long Covid, including dysautonomia, systemic inflammation, and tissue damage. This means that Marfan Syndrome, the connective tissue disorder I’ve carried my entire life with few complications, has quickly become my Long Covid Achilles’ heel.

Saying I’m sad and scared is an understatement. Most days, I feel my health slipping through my fingers, no matter how tightly I hold on or how hard I fight. And every day, I’m forced to play a game of “symptom roulette.” The past couple of months have been especially difficult, and I constantly worry about the months ahead — and weeks and days.

But I can say this with absolute confidence: Until my body fails, I will keep fighting and loving with all of my grumpy heart. I will continue researching treatments, advocating for Long Covid patients, and sharing my story. And despite grieving the loss of my health, I remain hopeful and endlessly grateful, especially for my family and friends. Without them, this battle would be much harder.

With that being said:

❤️ If you are suffering from Long Covid, please know that you are not alone. Your unique Long Covid experience is valid. Advocate for yourself. Research. Journal. Don’t be afraid to share your story like me. Find people who will listen. Reach out. And keep fighting. I hope this blog provides you with hope and comfort.

❤️ & if you know someone suffering from Long Covid, please give that person a bear hug, and remind them they’re not alone. Please, please, please help them fight.

I look forward to sharing my Long Covid journey with all of you.

Please stay tuned for updates and adventures.

And most importantly: never give up, no matter which hill you’re climbing.

Love always,

Hilary

[fishandships]

“Why do you know how to get bloodstains out?” But it’s Andrewwww

Injuries (accepting!) TY FOR THIS we got some Drama 👀 Universe: Identity V (What Was Said With Flowers AU) Pairing: Andrew/Rosario ⏳🕊️ Word count: 1,233

      The knock at the door immediately set Andrew’s heart racing. Of course Rosario was right on time as always, but his anticipation for their visit had been building well in advance. He opened the door to that warm smile of which he was so fond. This time, Rosario held a bouquet of orange chrysanthemums. “Hello “ they greeted him softly, presenting the flowers. “I, um, brought these for you. They’re such a warm color, don’t you think? Like little embers.”

      He accepted with almost reverent care, heat rising to his face as he admired the blossoms. These were not wildflowers - Rosario must have purchased them from a shop, just for him. “Yes. Thank you. I’ll get them some water right away. Please come in.”

      Rosario followed him inside, taking their usual seat at the kitchen table to watch him put the flowers in a vase. “With winter on the way, it’s going to be harder to find fresh flowers for you,” they said regretfully.

      “That’s alright,” he assured them with a soft smile. “I pressed all the flowers you’ve given me, so I still have them to look at whenever I like. And your paintings, too, of course.”

      “Really?” they asked softly, touched. “I…I’m flattered they mean that much to you.”

      “Of course they do,” he said, and in his head he added, Because they’re from you.

      When he turned back to Rosario he happened to notice to his alarm that their vest was splattered with a few dark spots. “Is…is that blood?”

      They looked down at their clothing. “Ah,” they said in dismay. “It got on my vest.”

      Their expression turned to one of embarrassment. “I had a nosebleed earlier. I get them a lot when the weather is dry.” They sighed. “Damn. I really liked this vest.”

      Andrew’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you not know how to get bloodstains out?”

      “No.” They averted their eyes, even more abashed.

      “Let me try,” he offered.

      Rosario agreed, slipping off the vest and handing it over. With a knowing little smile Andrew went to his cupboard. He put the vest in a bowl and poured just a little vinegar on the blood spots. Rosario came over to stand at his shoulder and watch with interest as he dampened a rag from the water pitcher on the counter and used it to blot the stains. Twice he repeated this, then held up the vest for them to see that the bloodstains were gone. “There,” he declared quietly. “Once it’s dry, it’ll be good as new.”

      When he looked at Rosario, he saw they were beaming, and his heart filled with pride. He had done that - he had made them light up with happiness. “Thank you, Andrew!” they exclaimed. “I never knew vinegar could take out bloodstains.”

      He handed over their vest, and they inspected it thoughtfully. “I wonder if I could get some older stains out of that shirt I was wearing when I…hmmm…”

      Andrew waited until they trailed off in thought, as they often did, then he told them, “If it’s an old stain, you’ll need baking soda as well.”

      “Oh!” Rosario said. “That makes sense.”

      “You’re welcome,” Andrew replied, ducking his head as a little smile spread over his lips. 

      After just a beat of bashful hesitation, he added, “By the way, if you have time to stay a while, you can hang that on my clothesline to dry. Then…you could join me for tea while you wait for it.”

      A warm smile of their own lit up Rosario’s face. “I have time. That sounds nice.”

      A short while later the two were sharing tea and scones, the latter having been supplied by Rosario the previous day. The conversation was light, but Rosario seemed increasingly distracted, as though they were thinking of something else. Eventually Andrew asked, “What’s on your mind?”

      Rosario sobered a little. “I was wondering,” they said softly. “…Why do you know how to get bloodstains out?”

      Andrew’s stomach dropped. Was it an unusual skill? Unusual enough to be suspicious? His mind raced, trying to recall any possible clues Rosario could have picked up about his “second job”. He’d been so careful to never let anything slip. Setting his tea down, he answered as evenly as he could, “My mother taught me.”

      It wasn’t a lie, he told himself. Surely at some point he would have watched his mother washing blood from his clothes after one of the many thrashings he’d received from the other children in their village. Still, it was close enough to a lie to make his stomach twist with guilt. He forced himself to meet Rosario’s gaze, praying his expression was as neutral as he needed it to be. But when he looked at them, he saw their eyes were full of compassion. “What I mean is…have you been hurt so often as to need such a skill?” 

      Affection filled his chest to the point of aching. He should have known. Sweet Rosario - of course they held no suspicions, only empathy. He held back a sigh of relief. “Well…it’s come in handy now and then. Like today.” He couldn’t help but smile fondly at them. “This was the first time I’ve needed it in a while. I’m glad I was able to offer you some help.”

      Rosario’s concerned expression remained unchanged. “For what it’s worth,” they said quietly, “I sincerely hope that helping me clean up my own messes is the only reason you have to do that for the foreseeable future.”

      Although it was hardly the point of their statement, Andrew couldn’t help but hone in on one key phrase. “Does that mean,” he asked slowly, shyly, “that you intend to stay for the foreseeable future?”

      The question took Rosario by surprise, as though they hadn’t expected him to catch that. Their face quickly took on a charming shade of red. “I— well, um...”

      Emotions warred inside him. He wanted to be overjoyed that Rosario was willing to stay in his life, but it was a bittersweet feeling knowing that, while he would always allow it, he was far more concerned how they would react were his “second job” ever made known to them. Thinking about it threatened to replace his happiness with dread. So instead, in a surge of determination, he boldly placed his hand atop theirs. “Please stay,” he urged in a soft voice.

      Rosario froze, eyes wide, then they melted, a bashful smile blossoming on their lips. “Alright,” they said quietly.

      For the rest of their visit, Andrew felt like he was floating on air, but deep inside that bittersweet feeling lingered. Rosario was far from stupid. It was only a matter of time before they actually did begin to suspect he was involved in something clandestine. Would they still empathize with him then? Would they still stay?       

Gazing across the table at them, he couldn’t bear to think about a life without them now, with only those pressed flowers as a reminder of what he’d once had. At some point, he would have to come clean and reveal to them his own stains. Somehow, he would have to make them understand. But for now, at least, he did his best to put it out of his mind. For the time being, he had fresh flowers and Rosario, and he intended to enjoy them for as long as he could.

[kayx95]

I Hate Being Sober: A Raw Reflection on Addiction and Identity.

Addiction is complex. For most of my life, I didn’t understand how layered it could be. There’s this stereotype that people struggling with addiction are always spiraling, losing control of everything. But here I am, with a relatively content life—things are stable on the outside. Yet, if I’m honest, I’m lost on the inside. This reflection isn’t coming from a place of chaos but from the weird, quiet dissonance that I feel about sobriety and the strange relationship I have with my vices.

There’s a part of me that genuinely hates being sober. It’s not something I love admitting, but it’s true. I’m drawn to the escape that substances give me. The way being high lets me slip away from reality, just for a while, is intoxicating (pun intended). I know the science, the “don’t touch drugs” rhetoric—I've lived through the talks, the detoxes, the advice. But that pull, that need to feel something else, to just hit the mental “off switch” and float, it’s always been there, even when life looks fine from the outside.

Here’s the weird part, though: I have control over certain substances but not others. Cocaine and MDMA are like tools I can wield. I use them recreationally without fear of spiraling. They let me loosen up, but I don’t rely on them to stay functional or “escape” regularly. In a twisted way, I feel almost proud that I don’t let them dominate my life the way addiction can. But when it comes to weed? That’s a whole different story.

Weed, that “harmless” drug that so many people can handle, drags me down in ways coke or MD never could. I don’t just get high; I sink. Weed has a unique way of controlling me, making me lethargic and unmotivated, so I’ve come to avoid it completely. I’m sure anyone from the outside might wonder, “If you’re in control of the hard stuff, why can’t you manage with weed?” I wonder the same thing, and that contradiction has left me wondering about myself.

Oddly, even the highs from the substances I think I am in “control” of, don’t always bring what I’m looking for. Sometimes, they end up making me quiet, almost numb. Instead of feeling connected or euphoric, I find myself turning inward, almost mute. I look like a “baghead,” just lost in my thoughts, and the high ends up feeling empty rather than freeing. I can see how it might look to others—a girl zoned out at a party, searching for a release but ending up in a haze that only makes her feel more disconnected.

I’ve realised that, deep down, this tug-of-war with sobriety has to do with something more than just addiction or substance use. It’s a question of identity and self-worth. When I’m sober, I’m left with… well, just me. And that’s terrifying. When I use, it feels like I’m filling a void, shutting off the part of my brain that questions, “Who am I, really?” The high drowns out the nagging doubts, the restlessness, and the discomfort. But when I’m sober, that “lost” feeling surfaces, unfiltered and undeniable.

The reality is, even though I want to feel at peace in sobriety, I don’t yet. I still have that pull, the lingering desire for escape. But I also know that relying on a high is just numbing me rather than healing me. I’m left with this battle of trying to figure out how to find contentment without drugs while being painfully aware of how hard it is to get there.

Sobriety isn’t just a matter of resisting the urge to use—it’s about facing that deep, uncomfortable silence within. That silence is heavy, but maybe, by confronting it, I’ll eventually find some answers.

For anyone reading this who feels similarly, you’re not alone. Whether you’re in recovery, stuck in addiction, or simply questioning your own relationship with sobriety, know that these feelings of dissonance and confusion are valid. It’s easy to paint addiction in black and white, but for many of us, it’s complicated, layered, and personal. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m here, sober and uncomfortable, trying to face them one step at a time.

[hellorai]

Okay so it just me who feels so like dizzy about their sexual identity rn?

Like for me I feel a whirlwind of emotions rn because for the longest I identified as bisexual (not that bisexual is a “gateway” sexuality it’s very valid) but late last year I realized I’m a lesbian and demisexual. I’m not use to labels outside of physical or hobbies (black woman, artist etc…) I just kinda knew who I was and that’s how I go on about my day but now it feels like I fell flat on my ass.

The idea of me being demisexual is still very new for me because I thought it was people who really didn’t like touch or sex and physical touch is like my main love language (romantically I’ll get into that) and I like sex but as I researched it more it all clicked from my trauma and how I processed speech and touch when I did date I liked the chase more than relationships emotionally but in my head I liked the relationship over chase because it they can’t touch me emotionally and physically? I’m still struggling on how I define this for myself because I am quite touch starved and love touch but it also makes me feel indifferent and I need to KNOW you or it feels like a violation!

Now on and off for years I’ve thought of the idea of being a lesbian. I felt more comfortable with girls, I dated girls more, I imagined myself with girls more etc…I feel like I held onto the idea of liking men was i like masculinity and at the time I equated masculinity=man. Then I didn’t feel as comfortable or attracted to girl because I forced myself into fem4fem and had inner biphobia at the time so I thought if I dated a masculine girl I just want men so I yearned for men more and it was “easier” to be attracted to like fictional men or celebrities but in real life I’d like girls I hope that makes sense😭 As a darkskin midsize black woman I felt like if I only like girls I’d be masculine and that made me uncomfortable because I’m very feminine. I felt like this because I use to equate heterosexual dynamics into homosexual relationships and I never say girls that look like me be the feminine one in lesbian relationships whether it was based on size, skin tone or race in general.

All of these insecurities and misguided views left me so confused and hurt + trauma of very bad relationships and being so young when all this was happening I continued to just have bad relationships or attached myself to people even though my mindset is nothing like it was because I didn’t have any real grasp of who I was and what I identify with.

So with all this I’ve been trying to educate myself especially with having more knowledge and older mutuals that really taught me what certain terms are like what a butch really is and butch culture.

I’ve always prided myself on knowing myself and presentation but with the stereotypes in certain labels I feel like I just don’t belong. I battle issues with I know it but I don’t feel it therefore it’s not valid. To call back when I mentioned physical touch is my main love language then I put romantically in parentheses because I think I’m a pillow princess. I’m trying to understand myself with and without labels and the guidance of them but when I research into what it means to be a pillow princess and femme I feel it but I don’t know it? Especially since I know and feel like I’d like to be with a stone butch. I’m also open to even like dropping labels if they don’t even go together I’d hate to think I’m just throwing terms together but when I research eventually my head feels dizzy and my stomach hurts like I’m just gonna get it wrong? I want to figure this stuff out because it leave me feeling bad and uneducated in my own culture (and like I’m never gonna be well enough to be in a relationship) but I just have a hard time seeing myself in roles or labels primarily cause I haven’t experienced much of anything!

I hope this makes sense and that someone just as confused but determined to figure themselves out like me can feel some warmth and maybe someone who went through this or knew someone could respond and help (which would be very appreciated)

🎀

[threadsun]

Favorite color? You can’t help but ask them why that’s the first question they ask you “Someone’s favorite color can say a lot about them, and it’s something most people know off the top of their head. It also probably comes from how many kids I meet” You tell them you were wondering why they were so colorful “Oh, well that’s because I’m literally a clown. Though I guess all my bright colors do make me look like I’m from a cartoon, huh?” You two chuckle and you agree with them, saying that they’d make a great action figure

Jack laughs at this “Aww, you’re too kind, I’ll let you know if our merch team ever makes one. I’d love to see you play with me” A shiver runs up your spine as their voice dips into something lower, seductive even, before snapping back to his original tone “How’d you like Rory? He’s pretty great, right?” The tone shift makes your head spin for a second before responding, agreeing that Rory is nice to talk to “Yeah, he’s really sweet when you get to know him, he’d make a great harem member if I might be so bold” You chuckle and ask if he has a harem “Huh? Oh…you don’t know much about what leading the cult entails do you?”

Your face falls, that familiar feeling of anxiety pooling in your stomach. You ask him what he’s talking about “Well, there are a lot of things the leader is expected to do but one thing you’ll have to establish is who gets to be in your harem. People will flock to you once they all know you’re here and all of them want to please you. The harem is a system that makes sure people don’t do something stupid like try to have sex with you in public” You laugh, they don’t

You look at him for a moment before asking if he’s serious “Oh yeah, it was a real problem before the founder established his. If you’re still unsure who you’d like to be in it by week's end just pick someone you’re friends with to hold them off. Though make sure you tell them they’re just there because they're your friend, don’t wanna kill anyone now, do we?” even though you’re both outside in the afternoon sun you feel ice cold, you’d expected weird shit, it is a cult after all, but this is just something else. You can’t even tell if they’re kidding about your rejection killing someone, the way he says it is so flat, like they’re telling you the sky is blue or fire is hot

You tell them you’ll keep it in mind and you start to look around as you try to think of another conversation topic. As you do you notice all the houses look nearly identical, not an uncommon occurrence in neighborhoods to be sure, but it’s more than a little uncanny. Every now and again you see a group of children playing after school, all of them wave at Jack as you pass by. You remember them saying that they talked to a lot of kids and decide to ask them about it

“Oh, I’m the elementary teacher! Though I also do counseling for the older kids. It can be rough going through life alone, I just wanna be there them” It’s only when their voice drops do you realize they’ve been performing this whole time. Their voice has been light, almost bubbly all this time, but in that moment they sound so down to earth, like they really care about these kids. You can’t help but smile

“Oh, here we are!” Their voice regains its bouncy quality as he walks down someone’s driveway “Now, I’ll make sure to tell him who you are but don’t be surprised if he gives you a bit of a death glare when he sees you. Jean’s never been fond of newcomers” You thank them as they knock on Jean’s front door. It takes a minute but eventually the door opens, the man inside looks a bit awkward, having to cross his left arm over to open it. He gives you your warned death glare before it turns to something more confused “Hey Jean, I thought I’d bring you some coffee cake after your readjustment. This is-” Jean’s eyes widen and before they can get it out, Jean says your name

Sorry if this one feels a bit short, but I find it only hurts a project to extend it but hope you like it anyhow! Also sorry for sending in so many things at once my brain is just buzzing

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm losing my mind at how good this is!!!!!!!!! The way you write all the characters is so good!!!! Also flirty Jack 👀😳

[op-sys-chaos]

Ok but then imagine this.

Red Hood has just gotten back to Gotham and is stalking Batman when someone slides up next to him and puts a finger to his lips (or where Red Hood imagines the kid’s lips are). Red Hood starts freaking out because that’s a kid why is there a kid here-

Then the kid hands him a letter before Hood can say anything, then pulls out a megaphone and plays a recording of a distant explosion. Batman, who’d been beating up a criminal, stops and goes to a nearby roof to search for the explosion. In the time it takes Batman to get up there, Tim’s long gone. Hood’s confused; he didn’t even see the kid leave!

Batman, upon realizing he’s been tricked again, looks into the alley and sees the beat up criminal has fallen unconscious, and stomps off, grumbling. Hood’s so lost at this point; who was the kid? Why does Batman look So Done With This Shit™️? And then he remembers the letter and opens it. It reads:

Dear J,

Welcome back to Gotham. We’ve missed you! Especially Batman, who misses you so much that he goes too far. I don’t think you’re any happier about it than we are. So I’m offering you a chance to help me fuck with Batman and stop him from going too far.

Want to pretend to be a hallucination?

Any time he’s going too far, show up and talk about “how disappointed in you I am, dad” and then vanish before he can get close. I’ll help you with the vanishing act too.

I’ll also keep up with my various plans to stop him from going too far, but it’d be better as a two person operation. Are you in?

-T (“Little Shadow”)

Jason is astounded. He’d been planning on fucking with Batman in a similar way (though much more violently) but now there’s a kid who knows his identity (or at least, knows he’s the Robin who died and that his name starts with J) and is asking for his help stopping Batman from going too far.

Jason can’t let this kid do this on his own. His crime lord plans can wait.

The next time Tim’s out on a rooftop, Jason tells him he’s in. Now, it’s a three person team. (Tim finally hacked into Oracle’s system and sent a message asking her how to hide themselves from the Bat’s cowl cams so he truly thinks he’s hallucinating if he looks back later. Oracle helps them out with this, giving them wearable tech that tells Batman’s system to hide them from the camera’s recording.) They work together, using Tim’s small stature and black hair and blue eyes to give him glimpses of “young Jason”, and then have Jason himself in a domino and an outfit that vaguely resembles his Robin uniform but in a casual clothes form, show up talking about how “this is what I would’ve looked like if I had the chance to grow up.” Oracle asks Batman who he’s talking to when he tried to reply, saying she doesn’t see anyone there.

Bruce starts thinking he’s losing it. He patrols less and less, staying home when he’s feeling incredibly bad mentally to avoid hallucinating in the field. As a side effect of this, Bruce is now no longer out on his worst days, so he’s less likely to go too far.

Eventually, Bruce starts to be able to regulate himself and be the man he thinks his son would’ve wanted. He reins himself in, being a good hero again. Slowly, he starts going back out, and the next time he sees a Jason hallucination, he tells the hallucination “I’m going to be better. For you, son.”

HalluciJason starts tearing up. “That’s all I wanted,” he says. “Thank you, dad.”

(This is the real Jason. Over the course of his time working with Tim and Babs, he’s worked through some of his shit and is ready to be a functional member of society without the murder. Tim and Babs helped him start thinking clearer. In addition to that, Tim pointed out that the best way to prove a point to Bruce was by doing better within the confines of the Bat’s rules, not by breaking the rules. If you break the Bat’s rules, he instantly won’t listen. So the Red Hood becomes a Crime Alley-specific Batman, doing a much better job than Bruce because he’s focused on a smaller area. Tim becomes RH’s tech support guy, with some help from Oracle. Every time the Bat tries to approach Hood, Hood gives the Bat the middle finger, shouts “stay out of my turf!”, and runs off. Batsy starts taking the hint pretty fast. Anyway.)

So now, after two months of Bruce being the best Batman he can, the Shadow Club (Tim, Jason, and Babs) decide it’s time to let Dick in on the secret. Jason goes to the Clocktower, and Babs tells Dick that Jason’s alive and what he and Little Shadow have been up to. Dick’s ecstatic - Jason’s not only alive but he’s also working with Dick’s favorite little menace (who he really wants an autograph from). He’s a bit pissed at Babs from keeping this a secret until Babs explains how much better Bruce has been since this plan started. She mentions that Dick and Bruce are still on the outs, and it could’ve upset the delicate balance of the hallucination illusion they were creating.

So now Dick’s in on it. Bruce hasn’t seen the HalluciJason in weeks, ever since the thanks he got, and he’s feeling more mentally stable so he goes out more and more, eventually getting back up to his old standard. The only time he backslides is when the Joker escapes. Bruce breaks the Joker’s legs so he can’t run out of Arkham any time soon. Jason approves, though, so there’s no need to scold him via fake hallucination.

Eventually, Red Hood starts letting the Bat into his territory. He shows him around; he shows him the small panic buttons he installed in various easy to access locations so people on the street can call for his help if they need it, he shows him his network of informants who know what information he needs and how to get it to him, he shows him the resources he’s helped set up for people like the soup kitchen he’s funding using money taken from gangsters. Batman is in awe; Hood’s doing some really good work. He absolutely take the panic button ideas and installs panic buttons in various places around the city, but makes sure that they connect to the GCPD in addition to him. Slowly, Batman and Red Hood start working together more and more, trading information when a criminal goes into each other’s territory, helping each other with massive busts that need several people, etc. Nightwing also pitches in when he’s in town, and slowly, he and Bruce heal their relationship. (Bruce already failed one kid, he won’t fail the other. He’s going to make sure Dick knows he’s loved.)

After a year of solidly working together, Hood (after a lot of convincing from Tim, Dick, and Babs) decides he’s ready for Bruce to know. He starts small; he goes to Wayne Manor when he knows Bruce is off world and tells Alfred he’s alive. Alfred convinces him to stay at the manor for two days until Bruce gets back. He also uses this time to run all the tests that Bruce would and verify his story. When he does, they have a wholesome reunion. And then Jason admits being the Red Hood. Bruce is so incredibly proud of his son. They start fully coordinating and working together. Hood adds a bat symbol to his costume. Jason and Dick also team up to convince Bruce to adopt Tim and Tim to accept the adoption (the latter is much harder).

All in all, the family is happy. Bruce can’t even bring himself to be mad at them when, two years later, he finds out the truth about the hallucinations.

They’re a happy family. It was worth it.

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[inamindfarfaraway]

☔️ and 🌈 for the ask game

WIP ask game.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Ooh… I have SO MANY ideas all the time. I’m enough of a perfectionist that I really want to write them myself, to do it Right according to my vision, but I know logically that I’ll probably never get around to all of them. Here's a concept I really struggle to see myself committing to:

A Miraculous Ladybug fic that ignores everything after Season Two and follows Chloé committing to being a good person, at first just to make Adrien and Ladybug proud as Queen Bee continues to earn the public and other heroes' trust. It’s entirely from her perspective, so Marinette and Ladybug, etc., are written like different characters. Her character development is the main plot, but it’s a very natural slow burn. It isn’t that her rough edges are sanded down. The plot would span several months with several layers and I can easily see myself not finishing it. Her first big step is awkwardly saying sorry to Marinette and her other bullying victims. She isn’t used to shame and it’s gross. Marinette is rather forgiving, but Alya is not and ready to come at her if she attacks anyone again. But they mostly avoid her and she’s glad. She doesn’t want to be their friend, they still don’t meet her standards. She also hunts down the train driver she stung in "Queen Wasp" to apologize to him. She slowly grows more humble, instinctively selfless, emotionally mature and open to sincere vulnerability and deep connection, developing a healthier self-image and friendships. But she wrestles with her need for her mother’s approval. Her dad is happy to support her and proud of her initiative in changing, driven to confront his own flaws as a parent and politician. But Audrey is relentlessly emotionally abusive on the rare occasion she even bothers to think about her daughter; she's the main antagonist of the civilian plot as Hawk Moth is of the more episodic superhero plot. Chloé very gradually internalizes that Audrey is a bad person not worth imitating, respecting or talking to. Her stronger social life outside her family helps. Seeing her victims as people like her means acknowledging that she can be a victim like them. That’s why she’s been so afraid of it her whole life. Some major subplots:

Chloé processes that she’s had a crush on Ladybug this whole time, maybe via listening to Cat Noir gush about her and being like “Wait… that sounds a lot like my totally platonic inner monologue. OH SHIT”. She gets very flustered - she’s not one to be back down from a challenge, but how do you ask out a superhero? - and Sabrina isn’t much help because she’s intimidated exactly the same way regarding her own unspoken crush on Chloé herself. Chloé resorts to demanding asking Marinette and Alya to give her advice on asking a cool, popular girl they totally don’t know out, reasoning that they make plans all the time for Marinette and Adrien and unlike Mari, she’ll actually follow through. She does, and Ladybug is stunned and gently lets her down. She praises Chloé’s honesty and courage and says that she values her deeply as a friend and teammate. Chloé keeps it together in front of, but takes it hard afterward. Sabrina comforts her, but keeps quiet for fear of the same rejection. Though they do get closer, as it’s one of the first times Chloé’s let Sabrina or anyone see her be seriously hurt.

In light of being on that side of the equation, Marinette is like “I can be as brave as Chloé” and finally asks Adrien out and they get together, Adrien accepting that what Ladybug’s might do doesn’t outweigh what his friend is. They have an offscreen identity reveal a couple of chapters later and the next akuma attack, Ladybug and Cat are dating? Very confusing for poor Chloé. She’s jealous and mean with Cat for a while, but calms down eventually. Ladybug telling her truthfully that Chloé inspired her to confess her love cheers her up a little. Ladynoir is Chloé’s gift to the world, everyone!

Pollen is a proper character. Her personality, evolving dynamic with her holder and backstory are developed. You can't tell me that the Miraculous of subjugation was only used for good in the past, so a holder becoming more moral than less over time is a refreshing change of pace for her. She’s seen terrible things.

Helping Chloé deal with and detach herself from her abusive, neglectful parent makes Adrien, who saw firsthand the effect Audrey’s abandonment had on her years ago, realize that how Gabriel treats him is not actually okay either. Huh. He might… he might not be okay. But he’s so nice and obedient and careful! Can you be messed up and nice at the same time? So he starts to unpack all his baggage. Chloé joins the Anti-Gabriel Club with a passion, if she wasn’t in it already, and earns her classmates' belief and even admiration, especially Marinette and Alya's, by coming through as really kind, reliable friend to Adrien in his journey. They take turns leaning on each other in "Why doesn't my parent love me?" crises. They also talk about Emily. It's sweet. Adrien being a sentimonster and a Hawk Moth reveal are optional if you want to complicate things more. I do think it would be fun to see those narratives from the perspective of a Chloé who actually cares about Adrien, and for her to kick Gabriel in the groin, but it depends on how thin you want to spread the focus and how much you want to devastate the status quo.

Alya/Rena Rouge, who knows Chloé’s secret identity while Chloé does not know hers, learning to appreciate and support Chloé’s redemption and work with her in the field. But they’re hever, like, great friends. Chloé indeed has to learn that she can’t fix everything and win everyone over, from her peers to the people of Paris to her mother.

Either Sabrina gains the confidence to confess her love or Chloé gets good enough at that empathy stuff to notice it on her own. She realizes that she’s been falling for her best friend this whole time and they find their footing as a couple, with Sabrina getting more assertive and Chloé tackling her insecurities about romance because her parents are awful role models.

In the middle or near the end, depending on the structure, something big happens that shatters Chloé’s faith in Audrey and/or her ability to be loved in front of her classmates. Maybe Audrey cancels a mother-daughter trip bonding trip to focus on her work and only remembers to tell her at the last minute while she’s waiting to be picked up from school. Maybe Chloé hosts a party to make up for the one that went awry in “Despair Bear” and Audrey finds a reason to be angry about it and cruelly berates her. Maybe Mother’s Day or Audrey’s birthday goes south after Chloe put in heaps of effort to make Audrey happy. Audrey insults her child on TV in her debut, she isn’t particularly clever about it. The point is, everyone really wakes up to how little Audrey cares and wants to care. Chloé breaks down and gets akumatized into a new, angstier form (showing us an akuma's inner monologue) and dramatically fights her friends, possibly resisting the mind control. Maybe focus on Cat Noir? Marinette regrets convincing Audrey to stay in Chloé’s life, yells at Audrey and rejects the awesome fashion opportunities she’s offered her out of integrity. Alya volunteers her journalistic services in building a child abuse case against Audrey if Chloé decides to press charges, valuing justice more than her grudge.

Eventually André gets a divorce, defending himself and his daughter from his wife’s wrath, and Audrey moves back to New York. Somebody has to call her “ridiculous, utterly ridiculous”. She and Chloé have a goodbye scene that mirrors a flashback to the last time. Now as then Chloé is heartbroken, but she knows that it’s for the best.

If Chloé ever learns anyone else’s double life, it should be Adrien’s. She should deduce it from how well she knows him, and as proof that she’s able to imagine his complex interiority and her not having previously known everything about him, unlike before. In the first chapter she’d never guess that ‘her Adri-kins’ could or would keep a massive secret from her. But now she’s like “Of course he’s a superhero, he’s Adrien!”. He’s her everyday Cat Noir. Guys. The show we could have had if they were allowed to be real friends.

I know that sounds like I have a strong outline. But those are just plot point nuggets floating in a soup of Vibes. And to pull off all the slow burn arcs and interwoven threads with maximum impact, the fic would have be very long as I envision it, which is daunting and I don’t have the stamina for. So fly away, little fic concept! Find a writer who can unlock your full potential!

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

My main WIP at the moment is about Luke Castellan growing up into the problematic disaster blorbo we know and love/hate. So it’s very sad. But there are soft moments, even if they’re also sad in retrospect. Here’s Luke and Thalia being friends.

‘“My mother told me. About the pact and how I was a forbidden kid. She told me I shouldn’t have been born.” Her voice was small and unsteady. “She never did anything like this for me. It wasn’t like your mum. She just didn’t care.” She clenched her fists. Voice growing louder and harder, she spat, “I would have run to the other end of the country even if I hadn’t been chased by monsters. She’s worse than Zeus.”

Ah. So Luke wanted to punch both her parents.

“She can go to Tartarus. Like I said, I’m glad you’re alive. And not just ‘cause you save my ass every week.”

Anyone who wasn’t could go through him.

Her glare melted. “Only every week?”

They shared a brief laugh. Though her side was wobbly, her eyes were brighter. She waved her arms and twisted her wrists, taking the time to feel herself in her new jacket.

“I’ve honestly lost count. Trust me, seeing my thirteenth birthday will be enough for me. The pressure’s off.”

“I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had. That’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

“You could never be pathetic,” he said without hesitation.’

Thanks for the ask!

[ectoplasmer]

squinting really hard at that egogender label again