#like they're acting as everything is fine but then you see they're wincing from time to time

[whump-side]

This is a specific whump trope that has been sitting in my mind and I had to draw it. Hidden injury but not so hidden? Whumpees are on their recovery journey, all is good, all is fine, but the bandages and pain are still here whever they're trying to conceal it or not

[mhsdatgo]

Do you think the show is biased against the Greens vs. Team Black? If so, how should the show have demonstrated that both teams are awful, in your opinion?

Hello anon!

I've got a lot to say on this one.

First of all, yes. I totally think that the show had some obvious kind of bias towards the Blacks. Not necessarily with the way the Greens were treated as devils with no likeable qualities except for Alicent (even if there are several instances of them doing so) but more because of the way the Blacks were whitewashed.

Rhaenyra.

Look, you'll never catch me not expressing my contempt for this woman, no matter the fact she was brought up by a man who did nothing but spoil, enable and indulge her in everything and anything she says and does. I can see the path they're taking in the show by adapting her as an irresponsible woman who flees at the minimal inconvenience and cowers to her dad at any minor inconvenience, but literally everything that makes her Rhaenyra Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, is removed.

She just looks like the next girlboss Targ Dragonrider queen after Daenerys. They basically made GOT season 8 and sent show!Rhaenyra as an apology. But in doing so they basically made her... Boring. Her and her children, which I don't love or hate. (The closest one I am to "liking" is Jace, I guess, but the leaks are just making me rethink everything again.)

I would've loved it if they had given us ONE pre-Dance book!Rhaenyra scene that would've made her appear more ruthless than what we have on the show, and not just the time when she offered 10 year old Aemond to be tortured. Make her ask Daemon to go after Vaemond (sorry pookie) like she did in the books, make her feed his corpse to her dragon. Sure that wouldn't have made me change my mind about how much I dislike her bUt it WOULD'VE made me go "damn she stands on business."

I wanted her to act out of grief and insist on going to war when she miscarried Visenya and lost her father, because although I don't think that the Greens did kill that poor little girl (she had dragon features and was likely going to die anyway) I do think that Rhaenyra should've been allowed her pain and the irrational and impulsive thinking that comes with it.

Alicent.

OH BOY.

Where do I even begin with this one?

Olivia Cooke SLAYED. Lemme just start with that. She took the whole cake and ate it too and left no crumbs. The direction they've taken with her is a realistic one, at least for the actions and decisions she's taking. Reckless, for sure. Risky, deathly even. Her fear is realistic, even for someone as Alicent Hightower no matter how much determination had protected her from dread.

What I don't like is the way she was treated as everyone's object and her shutting up about it. From Rhaenyra to Larys, everyone uses her for their own disgusting pleasures or outlet of frustration. And she's made to take it without fighting back even once. The one time she does, bless her, she's treated as a woman who's gone mad.

Now, I would've been fine with her taking all these hits if only they knew how to make Alicent change properly and completely from there. If it was me, the incident at Driftmark would be my start to revenge. No longer would I look at Rhaenyra with hope to reconcile with her. No longer would I bear any more of Viserys' shit when it's clear his first daughter (the image of his first wife) bears way more importance to him than me and all the four kids he forced me to have combined.

They'd have to nightly talk me out of suffocating him with my pillow a minute more for every wince and ache my now eyeless son suffers, for a month straight if not more. I wouldn't eagerly stand by his side and listen to his last words only to mistake them for permission to go along with my plans. I'd stand there passively at best, waiting for him to be done, before leaving the room.

Everything else can just be left the same way it was. Her fear when she realizes the effect Viserys' death has on her and her children is realistic. I'd break down for a moment too. I'd act as soon as I could too. I'd cry tears of relief, dread, grief (depends on how you interpret that scene) too. After letting his stinky ass rot for a fortnight. I would've preferred this to be a "there was a plan, but we weren't ready to act it out" situation more than a "what the fuck is going on" situation.

I'd also slap that "you toil in service of other men" dialogue from Rhaenys right back in her face (sorry grandma) since if we're talking about the show, it's literally the only thing she has done throughout the season.

House Velaryon.

HEAVY on this one. They have been done so wrong on so many levels. Every single one of them.

Laena was made to "pursue" Daemon, she changes from a precious, small and shy little girl to a confident, seductive young woman (teenager for fuck's sake, screw everyone who thought making her change this way would've been good) and later on a side piece, "the one Daemon settles for because he can't have Rhaenyra" even if it was known that she was the only one he was never unfaithful to, "she's made her peace" (WTF???????).

It apparently never hits Corlys that the bitch who he believes has made him childless (I AM TALKING ABOUT DAEMON) deserves no support from him and his house or that Luke should actually become a ward there at Driftmark if he's so adamant on keeping this farce that he's a Velaryon and the next Lord of the Tides.

Vaemond is seen as the odd, evil and power hungry one for pointing out that his house is falling into an OBVIOUS bastard's hands whether this kid likes it or not (even as my support for this claim goes as far as questioning Luke's parentage) and to add insult to injury he's made to say Rhaenyra is a whore, which never happened in the books.

The Silent Five are removed completely, Vaemond's sons as well (@redrosesandcharmingsouls knows I was FROTHING at the mouth waiting for Daemion Velaryon to make an appearance but the motherfuckers couldn't even give me that) so that we don't have any kind of reason to believe an execution so brutal and unjust had any repercussions on the support House Velaryon has on the Blacks overall. They are made into Rhaenyra's cheering squad through and thorough, even if they have every reason to be anything but.

The Laenor situation is actually really fucking funny. They made him leave instead of killing him to not bury the gays and they aren't aware that this has totally fucked everything up. Like thanks for telling me ALL of Rhaenyra's children are bastards. Cool, HOW THE FUCK TO YOU HANDLE SEASMOKE NOW?

Aegon II.

No this isn't an apologist post. I'm actually slithering on the ground on my knees for TGC daily but Aegon is a clusterfuck right now, no matter how you look at it. They tell us he's a psycho drunken rapist and he likes to watch children fighting every Sunday and when you actually see his adult version he's a crying love starved bitch of a man and he winces and frowns when Vaemond's head is cut off.

Instead of taking the throne to protect his children, he takes it because he's forced. And that makes Alicent the villain in everything once again. Now it doesn't matter if you look at the book version or what we see of the show version, everywhere you look this is just out of character.

It's inconsistent. He's made the worst thing ever so people can say "See??? They believe a rapist is better to put to the throne than our girlboss virtuous heir!!!" you either make him a psycho or a touch starved baby, why make both?

So yeah, I think this is all. For now. We'll have to see how this show progresses to see if I change my mind in any way.

Thanks for the ask!!!! ^_^

[probably-writing-x]

Curtains Closed - Part 3

Summary:

Warnings: I dont thinkkk there's anything, just hella fluff

Author's Note: Your wish is my command... I hope this doesn't disappoint <3 Thank you for all of the love on curtains closed, it has been so fun to write !!

A year today. A whole year had passed. You'd shot and released a film, won an Oscar, got a new apartment in New York, released your own makeup brand, and were now in the audition process for a new film you were hoping to get. An entire year of your life, the highs lows and the inbetweens - all of it without Drew.

Since the Vanity Fair party, the two of you hadn't spoken. It was a relief to realise he wasn't dating Emily, but it didn't change anything else. You weren't ready to date him again without feeling that same jealousy and distrust that had driven you apart in the first place. You needed to know that if you got together again, it would stick.

"I don't know what to wear," You groan to Madelyn over facetime, holding up two outfit options, "They haven't told me anything."

"Just wear something comfortable," She encourages, "They're going to be more concerned about having Academy Award Winner (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in their film than about what you're wearing."

"I don't know why I'm so nervous, I just have a terrible feeling about this," You groan, pulling the black pair of leggings over your thighs.

Today you had a chemistry read with the person who would be possibly playing your love interest in the film, meaning the casting directors had to make sure that you would be a convincing fit for the roles. The last time you'd had a love interest of any kind on screen, it was Drew.

"Alright, I think this is okay," You take a deep breath, fixing the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt over your waist, "I need to down a coffee and then I need to go."

~~~

You arrive at the audition with a minute to spare, hurrying through the door with a glimmer of sweat breaking through your light makeup.

"God, I'm not late am I?" You wince at the girl on reception.

She smiles and shakes her head, "Don't worry, you're all good. And I'm pretty sure they would wait for you anyway."

You take a deep breath, "Is the guy already here?"

She looks at you with a frown between her brows, "They haven't told you who you're reading with?"

You stare at her for a second, a little taken aback, "Why? Should I be concerned?"

As if on cue, the two of you reach the door to the audition room and she opens it for you to go through.

This is the feeling, isn't it? That feeling of your words dropping from your throat, your heart dropping out of your chest, colliding with the butterflies that are now on a rampage inside your stomach.

"Drew."

He is still every part of him. Tall, shoulders broad, bright eyes, the defined structure of his face, hair growing out longer than the last time you'd seen him, messy and perfect around his face.

"I didn't know you'd-"

"Be here," He finishes your sentence for you, "Yeah, me neither."

You can tell by the slight breathlessness in his voice; he'd lost all of his words too.

"Is everything okay guys?" The casting director frowns and both of you whip your heads around to look at her and the rest of the panel, like you'd both just been caught in the act.

Drew's eyes turn back to you almost as quickly as they'd left. You blink a couple of times at the table of people waiting for you, trying to draw yourself back to some level of professional reality, "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Alright, are you two ready to start with the scene?"

No. Not a single part of you was ready.

"Of course," You force a smile, one that you had gotten used to faking.

"Yeah, of course," Drew must be good at faking too.

~~~

"I don't know who you think you are, but this isn't you, this isn't us," You read the line aloud, trying with everything you could to draw yourself away from your own body and into the character.

"And what is us anymore?" Drew responds, his eyes hunting for yours.

You look up at him and see the emotion behind him, the vision of him and the character seemingly blurring into one in front of you, "Maybe there isn't an us, maybe that's the problem."

He swallows the lump in his throat, dropping his arm from where it had been gripping onto the script, letting it rest aimlessly in his hand - now that his eyes have latched onto yours, he's sure that is all he needs;

"I'm not ready to give this up. Not now. I don't care how long that takes, I don't care if I'm waiting up every night for the next time you're next to me in bed, I don't care how far I have to go, I'm not losing you. This, whatever you want to call it, it's not ever going to be worth losing," There's a quiver in his voice, "I regret it all, I do. Every single bit of it that made me lose you. And I'll work every day to change that, but I need you there with me, for it all."

Your character is meant to speak, but there are tears in your eyes and an unknown certainty that he was speaking to you and not to the words you were supposed to return with.

"I don't care how long it takes for me to convince you to believe me again," Drew shakes his head, "I love you, (Y/N)."

You watch his cheeks flush red at that almost instantly, his mouth opening and shutting to try and find the words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" He scratches at the back of his neck, looking at the script again as he fumbles over the paper in his hands, "Nessa, I meant Nessa."

The main casting director clasps her hands together, "Don't worry about it Drew, that's what multiple takes are for anyway," She laughs.

Your eyes haven't left him yet, as he turns his head to look at the crew all with their attention on the pair of you.

"I think we've seen all we need to see from the two of you today, thank you for coming in," She continues, "(Y/N), is everything okay?"

Your eyes are still brimming with tears, and it takes you longer than it should to turn to her and try to respond through the bubbling emotion in your throat, "Yes."

~~~

It feels like an air of reality hits you as soon as you step outside of the building, onto the harsh normality of the New York streets.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't know you'd be here," Drew comments, dragging a hand through his hair, "I would've at least warned you if I knew."

"Did you mean it?" You cut in through his words, your voice still shaky like the tremble in your hands.

"Did I-"

"Did you mean it? Were you talking to me or the character?"

His eyes find you and yours are on him, and it feels like you're seeing each other for the first time in twelve months. You see it all in that moment. The way he'd kissed you, the way his hands always found perfect position on your curves, the way he knew your words before you spoke, knew your memories before you'd made them. The way he'd held your heart and promised to keep it. And, in that moment, you realised he'd never broken that promise - you'd taken it from him.

"(Y/N) I-" He breaks the silence, letting out a quivering breath, "It's you, it's always you."

You're sure your heart swells in that moment, the moment where fireworks explode around the soulmates in the film, the moment you know it's forever.

"What are you doing right now? Do you have plans?" You ask quickly, fighting to not stumble over your words.

"No, um, nothing," He clears his throat, "Nothing."

"How does coffee sound?"

You're taken back to two years ago, the two of you young and foolish on set together, playing two characters that were stumbling over themselves to fall in love. The way you'd felt exactly the same for Drew as you had for his character then. But those characters weren't going to last - they were naïve and it was all passion and misplaced love. These two characters were different. They'd aged and broken their own hearts, learnt more about themselves than they'd ever let someone see before. And that, this, was the thing that lasted.

"Coffee sounds great," Drew nods, "Something tells me we've got a lot to catch up on."

You shrug your shoulders and let the inevitable smile break its way onto your features, "Oh, you know, just the usual."

[niiine]

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

Character(s). Xiao x GN!Reader, Lumine, mentions of Yanfei.

Synopsis. Lumine never like meddling with other people’s  business if they don’t want her to, much less their relationship, but this time, Xiao left her no choice.

Mild Angst & Fluff

Lumine is reader’s close friend 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 come on she can’t always be the one that the reader is jealous of

NOT PROOFREAD, please don’t expect.

Ending sucks because it’s me. I can’t write endings ffs.

Got the idea when I’m re-watching the chasm scene where Zhongli saves Xiao’s life. My (our) hubby looks so fine tryna save everyone sacrificing himself 😳

“They're gonna kill you.” Traveler’s voice earned a wince from the yaksha who are still trying to walk straight after the incident in the chasm. They’ve been stuck for days, if not a whole week, inside the tremendous place and the final act really did took a toll on his body.

He let out a barely audible tsk as Lumine guided his form to sit somewhere comfortable. Only when he’s settled that he voiced out his concern.

“Please don’t tell her” his golden eyes look anywhere but hers, knowing that she had that judgmental stare decorating her small face. “No.”

Her sharp refusal made Xiao snap his gaze onto her, he didn’t hear her right, right? But the looks on her face tells him otherwise. “But they’re going to feel bad about this” he gritted his teeth like a kid, and his companion is reminded how much the Adeptus in front of her loves you so much to the point that making you sad is one of the last things he’ll do.

But if he really wants you to be happy, he must learn how to take care of his self as well.

“Yes. And it’s your fault,” sometimes the traveler’s bluntness hit a certain painful spot.

“So, I’m going to tell them that you almost sacrifice yourself again despite promising that you’ll be careful every.single.time.” The blonde made sure to emphasize her points, and although Xiao appreciate her concern for you, he just doesn’t want to see you crying because he messed up again.

“I’ll let her know myself then” he tried to argue, hoping that he can at least make a little bit more nice in the ears, but Lumine knows that he’ll hide certain facts to protect your feelings—don’t get it wrong, she loves you so much that she also doesn’t want to hurt you, but she’s aware how broken hearted you’ll be if Xiao keeps doing this to himself— so she will do this herself.

“And I will also let her know. You can’t keep hurting yourself without thinking of their feelings, Xiao. What if something happened to you for real? Don’t you know that it’ll send her to an even deeper despair?” Once again, she reprimanded the man, because aside from being your friend she treasures, he also is a dear companion to her.

“I’m gonna tell (name), and you’re gonna listen to everything she says” She huffed, preparing in her mind what to tell you as too keep the damage and worry on minimum. Although all her thoughts left her when she heard Paimon gasped and your sweet voice fill both hers and Xiao’s ears.

Yanfei came across you and told you the whereabouts of your boyfriend, making it easier to find your beloved.

“Tell me what?” Ahh, Xiao missed that sound so much.

“Love,” the green haired adeptus proceeds to reach out to you as far as his damaged body can do, distress and concern flooded your eyes as you run towards him, gentle finger scanning his battered form.

“What happened?” as much as he can’t stand to hear the uneasiness laced on your voice, he also can’t help but to succumb on your touches. He missed you so dearly. Receiving no response from your lover, you turned your head towards your friend, who’s already looking at you.

“And you, too! You look so pale and weak…” You noticed how frail the two of them look and a sob escaped your lips, you were about to speak again when Lumine beat you to it. Saying that she’s fine, and then proceeds to tell you everything that happened. After her explanation, Lumine offered to teleport you and Xiao in the Wangshuu Inn where he can rest comfortably. After bidding her farewell, with a bit of light scolding from you, you then turned towards Xiao who are currently draped in your shared bed, he’s not looking at you direct in the eyes, almost ashamed of what he had done.

“I’m sor—”

“I can’t stand this.”

His golden orbs darted into yours, swirling emotions forming into heavy heartbeat as his chest tightens at your words. No, please don’t say you’ll leave.

“(Name)” he tried to stand up to reach you out, but his body failed him. “I have told you before, Xiao” no, please don’t call him that. Where’s the usual Love? or Dearest? Or Beloved?

His crestfallen face stares at you pleadingly, and on normal occasions, you have give in. But you don’t want him to abuse his self anymore, and if you don’t want him to keep tormenting the both of you, then you must prevail.

“I can stand you being unromantic, or cold from time to time, I understand that you’re not a mortal who do silly things. But heavens, I can’t take it if you’re putting yourself in danger every time.”

He noticed how your eyes glistens from the tears, but his heart breaks at the sight of you standing so far away from him, reminding him that he’s the reason you’re unreachable sometimes.

Mustering all the remaining strength he has, he tried to stand up once again, he can’t have you going farther. His digits caressed your cheeks, and your eyes look up at him, turbulent storms raging at his touch.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise. Please don’t leave me.”

“You better don’t. Because I hate thinking that I’m not important for you to throw yourself like that,” you sobbed against his chest “I love you, Xiao. I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever lose you.”

He kissed your forehead, whispering his own affirmations. Archons, he really doesn’t like seeing you like this.

[mamawasatesttube]

The 13 "you're safe, I promise" with Lois and Kon.... 👀

Kon can't breathe.

Well—that's fine. He's Kryptonian. He doesn't need to breathe, anyway. And besides, he can breathe. Kinda. He just can't do it very well, but that's fine. He's fine. It's fine. He doesn't really need to breathe. It's fine.

Boiling water splashes over the rim of the mug all over his hand; it doesn't really hurt, but he still hisses and jerks the kettle away on impulse. Shit. He's supposed to be making a cup of tea, not spilling hot water all over the kitchen—

"Conner?"

Fuck.

"Oh, hi there, Lois!" Act natural! Act natural! Is leaning on the counter and crossing his arms acting too natural? Is there such a thing as acting too natural? "Didn't, uh, see you there! What brings you to this fine establishment? ...Kitchen? ...Room? At this hour of night?"

Lois, standing in the doorway, raises an eyebrow. "You have superhearing."

Kon snorts. The flutter of anxiety in his chest swells. "Well, that doesn't mean I always use it. C'mon, you know I'm dumb as a rock, Lo."

"Right. And I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed."

Lois steps into the kitchen properly. Kon watches, horrified, as her eyes fall to his hand and the mug and all the spilt water; she's going to know something is wrong, but—nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. There's nothing to know. But she's going to know anyway.

The worst part is, since it's Lois, she'll know exactly what's up even if he cleans it all up with superspeed. The sudden movement will catch her eye. The subtle changes in the environment. She knows what it looks like.

"Conner," Lois says, and Kon knows the jig is up. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" Kon nudges the mug away from the edge of the counter. Steaming water sloshes over the side onto his hand again; Lois winces, but Kon just wipes it on his shirt, not caring. "I just, uh... you know. Nothing. I'm chill. Cooler than ice cold. You know."

Lois gives him a look. Kon resists the urge to bury his face in his hands.

...His hands. They're shaking.

"Hey."

Lois, apparently, notices that too, because she steps closer, and then she's holding his hands in both of hers, her thumbs rubbing gently over his knuckles. Her hands are so much smaller than his, so delicate, and yet... it's kind of nice.

"It's okay, squirt," she says, her voice gentler. "Talk to me. Something's clearly eating you. Everything alright?"

Kon looks away, at the kettle sitting on the stovetop, and feels shame twist in his gut. "I... yeah, everything's fine. Just... you know. Nightmare, that's all."

Lois's face softens even further. It's not an expression Kon is really used to seeing on her; everything about her is usually sharp, sharp, sharp. But she's nothing but kind as she squeezes his hands. "Oh, kiddo. Wanna talk about it?"

Kon laughs against the tightness in his chest. "I mean, you know, it was nothing special, just—you remember that whole thing where I died once, so... yeah! What else is there to say?"

He tries to laugh again, but the memory of the dust and smoke clogs his chest, and it dies in his throat. Fuck. Everything still feels shaky and unsteady and—

Lois pulls him into her arms.

She's a full head shorter than him, and her frame is much more slight, and there's no way she should logically be able to offer him nearly as much solace as she is, and for a heartbeat Kon is completely, utterly frozen in her embrace—

And then she rubs his back with a firm hand and murmurs, "You're safe, kiddo. I promise."

—and time begins to move again.

Kon squeezes his eyes shut and slowly, slowly sinks against her, his hands coming up to rest tentatively against her back. Her heartbeat is loud, steady, and slow in his ears, and the rush of blood through her veins is a steady white noise to drown out his memories.

He takes a breath.

"That's it," Lois encourages, and rubs his back again. "You're okay. You're okay."

Kon lowers his head to tuck his face into her hair. He should feel ashamed, and he knows he will later, but right now, the comfort is overwhelming enough to banish all those thoughts from his mind, and he just... stays.

"Thanks, Lois," he mumbles, finally, several seconds later, when he can bring himself to withdraw.

Lois pats his shoulder, smiling. "Hey, don't sweat it. Anytime. After all," she says, "What else is family for?"

Then she turns to add milk and sugar to his tea, just the way he likes it, and he thinks he can breathe a little easier after all.

[comfortjoonie]

Hey hey :)

Can you please do something with Joon getting Appendicitis? Like while they're recording Namjoons got a stomachache and nobody really thinks much of it but then he throws up and they go back to the dorm to look after him but then it exalates and he has to got the hospital?

anon this is nearly 3000 words long! sorry it is so long! i really enjoyed writing this one <3333

Also just to preface this may not be medically accurate! This is based off my limited knowledge & my experience in surgery when i had a broken rib. sorry for any inaccuracies.

TW: Medically inaccurate, surgery, vomit, etc

“Hyung?”  Jungkook’s voice causes Namjoon to set down his water bottle.  “You okay?”  Namjoon instinctively nods.

“Fine.”  He tries not to wince as what feels like the hundredth hard cramp hits his lower stomach.  “Why?”

“You just look kind of…I don’t know.  In pain?” Jungkook asks. 

“Oh.  Well, I’m not.”  Namjoon stands up from the couch in the break room, but regrets it and doubles over, putting a hand on his stomach.  He’s been feeling this way for nearly two days now.  It just started as a small bit of pain, but it’s increased by so much that it’s hard to sleep and walk.  He can’t let anyone know, though.

“Hyung?”

“Fine, Jungkook.  I’m fine.  Just a little stomach ache.”  Namjoon straightens up and runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you nervous?” Jungkook asks.

“No.  I told you, I’m alright,” Namjoon says again.  “I’ll just drink some water or something.  The others are gonna be here soon and we’re gonna start recording.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip.  “You look bad, hyung.  You’re sweating.”

Namjoon wipes his face dry with his shirt.  “No need to worry, Jungkook.  I’ll be fine.”  Jungkook opens his mouth again, but he’s cut off when the other five members come through the door.

“Hey, guys,” Hoseok smiles.  

“Hi,” Jungkook and Namjoon say in unison.

“Everything alright?” Seokjin says.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, but everyone can sense the tension in the room.  “I’m gonna go to the bathroom quickly.”

“But hyung, the director’s gonna be here soon –” Jimin says.

“--I said quickly.  I’ll be back in less than a minute.”  Namjoon leaves the break room and closes it behind him.  All eyes turn to Jungkook.

“What’s going on with him?” Seokjin asks to the youngest.

“W-what do you mean?” Jungkook asks nervously.  He doesn’t want to make Namjoon mad by telling the others he isn’t feeling well.”

“He looks weird.  Did you guys get in a fight?” Seokjin asks, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“Uh…no.  He just said he has a stomach ache.  But he looked really bad.  He was sweating a lot,” Jungkook spills, and instantly feels bad.  He expects everyone to be as worried as he is, but instead Yoongi just smiles.

“You don’t need to worry so much, Jungkook.  It’s not a big deal, you know.  He’ll be alright.” 

Jungkook nods.  “Yeah.  I know, I just don’t like seeing him in pain.”

Seokjin pats his shoulder.  “He’s fine, Jungkook.  You know Namjoon.  He’s probably just nervous.”

Namjoon comes through the door, looking pale.

“All good?” Hoseok asks.

“Yep,” Namjoon says, briskly walking over to the couch and sitting down next to Jungkook.  He’d spent the last minute washing his face with cold water and drinking as much water as he could.  It didn’t help; it just made his stomach hurt worse.  The pain was moving to his right side and it was getting sharper.  

The recording director walked through the door and smiled at the members.  “Ready?”

–

Namjoon was once again standing next to Jungkook during the recording session, but this time with Seokjin on the other side of him.  Jungkook kept glancing over at Namjoon, seeing him beginning to sweat more and breathe a little shallower.  He looks nauseated too, turning paler and swallowing constantly.  But he’s still pushing through and rapping somehow.  If Namjoon feels as bad as he looks, Jungkook can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to act normal.  Jungkook doesn’t know anyone who can power through like Namjoon can.

When the director stops Namjoon halfway through his verse, everyone turns to him.  Namjoon swallows.

“Namjoon, are you alright?” The director asks. 

“Of course,” Namjoon confirms, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“You need to work on your enunciation.”

“Right,” Namjoon says, taking a deep breath.  “Sorry.”  Jungkook makes eye contact with Seokjin, who is starting to look concerned as well. 

“Can you just come back to me?  I just…”

Namjoon can barely speak through the intense nausea he’s feeling.  “I…”  Before anyone can say anything, he’s bending over and gagging violently, bringing up all the excessive amount of water he drank.  He coughs and moans softly.  All six members rush over to him, Yoongi rubbing his back in circles.

“Sorry – I just –” Namjoon gags again, gasping for breath.  “Just need–”  He coughs.  “--one minute–”  He crosses his arms over his stomach.

“This is really bad, Joon,” Hoseok says.  “You need to get home.”

The director comes into the recording booth and quickly tells them they can go home.  Namjoon is definitely not okay.  But he still protests: “Wait–I can clean that–”

“No, Joonie, you’re going home.  The janitor will take care of it,” Hoseok says.

“But–”

“Come on.”  Hoseok pulls Namjoon upright and wraps his arm around his shoulder.  “I’ll drive you back to the dorm, okay?”  Namjoon silently nods.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, go take the car in the lower lot, alright?  We’ll take the car on the street,” Seokjin instructs.  The maknaes nod, all of them looking equally shocked and worried.  They head off to the lot, and Namjoon and his hyungs go to the car parked on the street.  Namjoon rests his head on Yoongi’s lap for the short ten minute drive back to the dorms, and when they arrive, the maknaes are already there.  Namjoon can still feel the sharp pain coming in intervals on his right side, but it’s starting to get worse.  Every breath he takes agitates it, and every small move he makes sends a burning pain throughout his lower stomach.

As soon as Namjoon is inside the dorms, he’s rushing to the bathroom to vomit again.  Jungkook holds his hair while Yoongi rubs his back and Seokjin wets a towel with cold water.  Yoongi can already feel the leader’s fever getting worse by the minute.  More than that, Namjoon seems to be unable to catch a break from the vomiting.  Every time he stops, he starts again 30 seconds later.  

“God, Namjoon, what did you eat?” Yoongi asks after at least ten minutes of this.

“Last night?” Namjoon coughs.

“Anytime in the last two days.”  Seokjin removes the cold towel from the back of Namjoon’s neck.  It’s warm now, so he starts running it under cold water again.

“I have no idea,” Namjoon whispers, wiping the sweat from his brow.  “Just whatever Seokjin-hyung cooked for me.”  Yoongi turns to Seokjin.

“Nothing special,” Seokjin replies.  “Beef, rice, chicken, seaweed, eggs, noodles…nothing that could have caused this.”  Namjoon groans in pain at the new burning sensation in his side.  Jungkook wipes Namjoon’s mouth with toilet paper and flushes it down the toilet.

“Who were you around, hyung?” Jungkook asks.

“No one who was sick.  Jackson, you guys, and some friends from college.  That’s it,” Namjoon rasps out.

“You probably just got it randomly, then.  You’ll be fine,” Seokjin says.  “Ready to go to your bed?”  Namjoon shakes his head.

“Too far,” he groans again.

“Couch, then?” Namjoon nods and Jungkook helps him up.  Namjoon whines in pain at first and tries not to cry at the pain as he walks over to the couch and lies down.  The rest of the members are waiting there for him, all on their phones on the different chairs around the room.  Namjoon is breaking out in heavy sweats again, but he feels freezing cold.

“We need to get you some food, Joonie.  And your temperature,” Yoongi says.  “Taehyung, get some rice for him.”  Taehyung looks terrified.  

“Hyung, he looks like he’s about to die.  He needs the hospital,” Hoseok says.

Yoongi looks down at Namjoon.  He looks awful.  His eyes are squeezed shut and his breathing is uneven.  He’s pale, shaking, and drenched in sweat.  “Just…try to get some food in him,” Yoongi says.  “I’ll go grab the thermometer.”

Taehyung nods reluctantly and leaves to the kitchen while Yoongi heads to the linen closet.  Seokjin sits beside Namjoon, putting the younger’s head in his lap and feeling his forehead.

“Namjoonie, you’re burning up.  We need to get your shirt off or you’ll pass out from the fever.”  Namjoon shakes his head.

“I’m freezing, hyung,” he insists, but Seokjin insists.

“You’re wearing a long-sleeved shirt.  At least let us put you in a tank top, Joonie,” he says, and Namjoon shakes his head again.

“We don’t know what to do, hyung.  If you won’t put on a tank top, you have to eat something so we can give you a fever reducer,” Jimin says.  Namjoon’s stomach churns at the thought of swallowing anything.

“Too nauseous.”

“Then we’ll take your shirt off and put you in a tank top.”

“Too cold.”

Seokjin sighs, trying not to get frustrated.  Namjoon is so stubborn when he’s sick.  But he doesn’t want to raise his voice or get forceful with Namjoon.  He’s sensitive when he has a fever, and making him cry would definitely make him throw up again.  “I just don’t know what to do with you, Joonie.”  Namjoon opens his teary eyes and wipes them.

“Me neither,” Namjoon whispers.  Seokjin moves his hand down to Namjoon’s shirt to try and at least lift it up a little, but Namjoon cries out in pain when Seokjin’s hand accidentally bumps into Namjoon’s right side.

“Ah!  Hyung, stop, stop, stop–”

“--sorry, sorry.  It hurts?”

Namjoon nods, his eyes welling up with tears again.  Seokjin cards his hand through Namjoon’s hair and sighs.  “I don’t know what to do with you,” he says again.  

Yoongi returns with the thermometer in his hand.  “Sorry it took so long.  I couldn’t find it.”  He squats down in front of the couch and runs the thermometer along Namjoon’s head.  “Damn,” he whispers.  “102.  We need to get you eating something so we can give you some medicine.”

Taehyung and Jungkook walk back into the living room with a bowl of white rice and chopsticks, putting both in Seokjin’s hands.  He grabs a small bite of rice and puts it in Namjoon’s mouth.  Namjoon chews and swallows, but again starts gagging only three seconds later.  Seokjin sighs, rubbing Namjoon’s back as Jimin rushes to the kitchen and comes back with a metal bowl.  Namjoon exhaustedly vomits the rice back up into the bowl.  He’s empty, but he keeps gagging.  Jungkook and Hoseok exchange a glance, both of them thinking the same thing.  Namjoon needs the hospital.  

Namjoon feels like he can barely breathe through the searing pain.  Hot tears run down his face and the nausea fades out.  He tries to sob as quietly as possible, covering his face with his hands.  The pain feels like nothing he’s ever felt.

“Shh, Namjoonie, calm down,” Seokjin says.  “You’re okay.  It’s ok.”

“Hyung, I can’t watch this anymore,” Jungkook says.  “We need to take him to the hospital, now.”  Seokjin sighs.

“Why are you crying, Namjoon?” Seokjin asks.

“Hurts, my stomach hurts,” Namjoon sobs.

“Where?” Hoseok asks, but Namjoon can’t speak through the sobs.  Hoseok presses down on Namjoon’s upper stomach.  “Here?”  Namjoon shakes his head.  Hoseok moves his hand down to Namjoon’s lower right stomach and presses.  Namjoon screams in pain,

“Stop!  Hyung!”  Namjoon’s whole body shakes in pain and his vision goes black for a moment before he regains it.  He can barely think through the pain.

“I’m sorry, Joonie,” Hoseok says, “But we need to take you to the hospital.”

“It’s his appendix, right?” Jungkook asks.  “He needs an ambulance.”

Namjoon doesn’t even have the energy to protest.  His vision is getting dark, and his hearing is muffled from the pain.  He’s barely conscious as he hears Yoongi talking on the phone, then a few minutes later the sound of a siren and the main door being opened.  He’s lifted onto a stretcher by paramedics, tears still running down his cheeks and Seokjin holding his hand.  Yoongi and Seokjin sit in the seats on the side of the ambulance and the doors shut behind them.  An oxygen mask is placed over Namjoon’s mouth and he’s instructed to breathe slowly and deeply.  But the pain makes it too hard, and tears continue to run down his face.  

“It is probably his appendix,” a paramedic says, taking Namjoon’s temperature.  “Temperature’s 102.3,” he says to the other medic.

“I had appendicitis and it wasn’t even close to this,” Yoongi said.  “And he has a higher pain tolerance than me.”

“You probably caught it early.  It was less severe than this,” the paramedic responded.

“But he just said he had a small stomach ache today?” Yoongi says.

“He probably just didn’t want to concern you,” the paramedic says, and Yoongi’s heart sinks.  How could he not notice?  “Namjoon?  How long have you been feeling bad?” the paramedic asks, placing a stethoscope on Namjoon’s chest.  “Heart rate’s 110,” he says to the other medic, who writes it down on a notepad. 

“Two days,” Namjoon chokes out.  Seokjin’s jaw drops.

“Two days?  Joonie…” Seokjin wipes the tears off Namjoon’s cheeks.  “You must 

have been in so much pain.”  Yoongi blows out a sigh.

“Is there anything you can do for him?” he asks.

“We’ll see what the doctors say.”

—-

Namjoon nearly passes out from the pain of being moved into the CT machine, then into a wheelchair and into a private room.  The nurses tell him it’ll be just fifteen minutes until his results come back.  An IV is put in his arm with pain medication and a warm blanket is placed over him.  Seokjin sits on the other side of the room with head in his hand, talking on the phone frustratedly to the managers.  Yoongi holds Namjoon’s hand and uses a cold cloth to wipe his sweaty face.

Namjoon’s able to think clearly after ten minutes or so of the pain medication.  His eyes hurt from the crying and he feels completely empty.

“Better?” Yoongi whispers.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says softly.  “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“What for?” Yoongi squeezes Namjoon’s hand.

“Stressing you out.  Making you bring me here,” Namjoon sniffles.

“It’s fine, Joonie.  You didn’t make us do anything.  We want to be here.”  Namjoon looks at Jin.  He’s off the phone now, smiling at Namjoon.

“No you don’t,” Namjoon whispers.

“Of course we do.  There’s nothing more we want than to be here with you,” Jin says.  Namjoon just shakes his head and looks down.

The doctor knocks on the door and comes into the room, facing Namjoon with a clipboard.  “How are we?”  He doesn’t wait for a response.  “I really hate to break this to you, but unfortunately, it is your appendix.  It’s very acute.  It’s about to burst, and you need emergency surgery.”

Yoongi frowns. “We can’t wait another hour or so?  The rest of us are still–”

“No, unfortunately, like I said, we really need to do this now,” the doctor says.  A group of nurses come into the room.  One of them removes Namjoon’s IV from the tube connecting to the bag and another unbrakes his bed and moves the top part all the way down.  “It’ll just be an hour or so and you can both meet him in recovery.”  Namjoon looks scared, but Yoongi smiles at him.

“You’ll be fine, Joonie.  We’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Don’t leave the hospital,” Namjoon says.

“We won’t, I promise.”

—-----

Namjoon wakes up feeling strange.  His entire stomach and right side is completely numb and he’s warm all over.  His mouth is dry and his throat is sore.  His eyes are heavy.  He feels nauseous.  

“Wh…” Namjoon whispers.  He looks around and sees another patient twenty feet away from him.  A team of nurses surround him.

“All good.  We can take him to his room,” says a female doctor.  “You’re in the recovery ward, Namjoon.  We’ll take you to your room now.  Everyone is waiting.”

Namjoon feels his bed move and he shuts his eyes.  When he opens them again, he’s in a room, surrounded by his members.  

“Namjoonie,” he hears Hoseok say softly, petting his hair.  “You did so good.  Everything went well.”

“Th-the surgery?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responds.  “They’ll discharge you in five hours.  And they’ll ask you to get up in three.”

“I can’t feel my stomach,” Namjoon says.  “I’m thirsty.”

“You can’t drink yet, Namjoon,” Seokjin says.  “Just wait a little.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes.

“Do you want to watch a movie?  Jungkook brought his laptop,” Jimin says.  Namjoon nods.  “What sounds good?”

“Anything is fine,” Namjoon says.  

Jungkook turns on a romance movie, but before the opening credits even end, Namjoon is asleep again.

“He had me worried to death,” Seokjin says.

“Me too,” Yoongi says.  “I can’t stand seeing him like that…in so much pain.”

“He’s okay now.  He’ll be okay,” Hoseok says.  “Just…let him rest.  And when he wakes up, we’ll figure it out from there.”

“...I just feel so bad for him,” Seokjin sighs.

“It’s going to be okay.  He’ll feel even better when he wakes up again.  And we’ll just take this day by day, until he’s all the way better.  One day at a time.  He’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Seokjin smiles.  “Thank you, Hobi.”

hope you guys enjoyed! as always let me know what you think!

[starwalker03]

What would the WMLP cast do if they got sent back in from where they currently are in the fic to their old body 10 minutes before the mission that went bad is set to start.

ooooooooh yes we're on the same mindwave lmao I have in fact had this thought.

all of them absolutely hating their tiny little teenage bodies. appearing in them and being like 'why am I suddenly super self-conscious and uncomfortable? why does everything feel slightly off when I move? why are all my thoughts happening so quickly?' and finally realising they're back in a pubescent body and they're just like 'oh I see, I'm in hell'

all of them trying to take this seriously, arguments on the rise, but they just can't because they're all so tiny and silly looking. especially Dick, who has suddenly lost like, almost three feet worth of height.

Wally's voice cracking every three seconds tho. oh my god.

all of them trying to hold up the ruse with the league for as long as possible because they don't want to tell them, they want to figure this out themselves. except maybe Conner, he kinda wants to just tell the league and let them fix it.

Them getting a mission and everyone being like 'well this will be interesting' and Conner sweating because he really doesn't think they should be going out in the field like this.

In the mind link:

Conner: we gotta tell them

everyone: don't you dare!

Conner: no seriously guys we've got to tell them

Wally, trying to be inconspicuous as he glares at Conner: snitches get stitches

Conner: Wally i could fold you like a pretzel right now. for the love of god can we please just tell them

Kaldur: I'm with Conner on this one

M'Gaan: if all of you don't shut up and keep the act going I will turn your brains to mush now everyone shut up and get in the bioship

oh jeez, M'Gaan seeing the bioship again. my heart.

I think eventually Batman notices Conner being super awkward and sweating anxiously and he's like 'what's going on?'

Artemis: nothing!

Dick, through gritted teeth: everything is great

M'Gaan: yep! all fine!

Conner: *visbly sweats even more*

Dick, in the mindlink: you're waking up with kyrptonite in your bed tomorrow I swear to fuck

Conner: we all time travelled and ended up in our current bodies!

everyone but Kaldur: CONNER YOU LITTLE FUCKING SNITCH

Kaldur, wincing: well that didn't last long

Batman and Black Canary: what

lmao. love it.

[sonicman66]

Punchline

This one's not even a crossover, just an idea for a Batman story. \

Start off following the Joker breaking out of Arkham. Its a usual breakout, some props are used, there's a few dead or gassed guards lying around, he makes it into the city and he's plotting out his new heist/joke/evil deed. In the dead of night he sees oncoming lights and dives out into the street to commandeer the car.

And the car slams right into him.

In the car is a completely normal person, not anybody big or with a complicated backstory or anything at all, just Joe Schmoe realizing exactly what just happened. They look terrified and also surprised. They just hit the Joker. There's a beat, and then they put the car in reverse.

Cut to an emergency services dispatcher getting a call, has this weird tone of voice, but they've heard a lot and honestly nothing surprises them (until now). Convo goes something like this.

"911 what would you like to report?" "Yeah, I uh, I hit a guy. With my car." "Alright, i'll send an ambulance over with the police-" "Oh, ambulance won't be needed. I'm fine and he's- well. He's not getting back up anytime soon." Wince from operator "What is the location of the accident? Are you certain he's dead-" "Oh yeah, I made sure. He was getting back up after the first one and twitchin after the second, but the third one popped his head like a grape." "Are you claiming that you murdered this man?" "I guess so? The first hit was an accident, and kinda not my fault, i mean the guy actually jumped in front of my car shoutin some nonsense, but everything after that was to make sure he stayed down." "The police are on their way, please remain where you are and cooperate when they arrive, things will be much easier if you let them do their jobs-" "Don't worry, i'm coming in quietly. Don't think I'll be safe on the streets once the Bat learns I killed the Joker." "YOU WHAT?!"

Cut to the officers arriving on the scene, standing with the driver, staring at the Joker's corpse. They have mixed reactions. Some of them are acting like a party just started, and are celebrating, some are concerned for the driver, one of them offers to let the driver go and claim that they 'ran off' and ensure any searches for them get backlogged bc come on man-

But the driver is adamant. They want to be taken in, because if the cops don't bring them in, then Batman will, and they like their kneecaps to remain intact, thank you very much.

Cut to them in an interrogation room. They're getting the Nice Cops treatment from everyone that isn't outright cheering for them. Whoever's questioning them is being polite but also by the book, getting the whole incident down. The driver's explanation of their mental reasoning for backing up and hitting the Joker again is something like this.

"I'm not gonna pretend that I had some grand epiphany but when I saw him getting back up, I realized that at this point the best case scenario is that the Joker carjacks me and kills me quickly. The worst case scenario, he carjacks me and makes me the centerpiece of his next big thing, all because I pissed him off. If I drive off, there's no way he won't go out and try and find me and then i'm guaranteed the worst case. So I figure, 'what the hell, in for a penny' and decide to finish what I started."

When Batman inevitably hears and does a threatening interrogation/conversation, the driver isn't unfazed, but they're upfront about it. They don't deny Bats' whole 'You're a killer' thing, avoids the moral discussion. Instead, they just go "Yeah, I killed somebody, but I plan to serve my time. I don't think i'm some hero or badass because I killed the clown. All I know is that now nobody will have to wake up afraid that they'll be Joker Gassed on the subway, or turned into playing cards, or some other fucked up joke by a guy who'll get put in a paper prison after he's caught. I didn't do 'the right thing', but I did something necessary."

Pleads guilty in a trial if they don't go for first-degree murder, and quietly serves their time. Avoids joining any gangs or companies in jail, because "No sir mr. cobblepot, I'm not interested in joining your 'enterprise', whether it be legal or otherwise, I really just want to go back to a normal life, I appreciate the offer, honest-" and appreciates the various gift baskets they get (Harley sent a cake with a razor sticking out of it, Ivy sent a plant that was quietly returned, and they got one from Red Hood that had a note on it offering to break em out for free (rejected)).

[daintyduck99]

(this whole list really is rulie coded 😆)  “you’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?” “i don’t think i can…”  and rulie?

Julie eyes the bags piled in Reggie’s arms as he steps past her into the apartment.

"That looks like a lot more than pizza."

He blushes, then ducks his head, carefully depositing everything on the kitchen table.

"Yeah, I—sorry if it's creepy, but I noticed you've been using your heating pad a lot and I just got paid, so—I got some stuff that I thought might make you feel better."

She slips under his arm in an instant, startling a laugh out of him, and peers into the bags, blinking tears out of her eyes.

He got all of her favorite snacks, plus an adorable calico kitten plush, and he even bought her preferred flavor of frozen pizza.

Who wouldn't be hopelessly in love with this man? Seriously. How is he real?

Julie twists to bury her face in his chest, hugging him fiercely. His arms come around her easily, and she bunches her fingers in the back of his shirt.

"Thank you, Reggie. It's not creepy, it's incredibly sweet. How much do I—"

"Julie, you don't owe me anything. Don't worry about it, okay? I pulled extra hours last week since Nick was out sick, so I had money to burn, anyway. And who was it that saved my ass on that huge lit essay?"

She giggles, only regretting it slightly as her body pangs in protest. "Me?"

"You," he whispers into her hair, and she suppresses a shiver. "That and way more. Let's not start keeping score now, okay?"

Julie snorts as they unravel, playfully poking him in the ribs.

"You say that now. I'd better not hear anything similar from you the next time I decide to get you flowers or something nice for the hell of it, alright?"

Reggie softens. "You'd buy me flowers?"

The smallest things make him happy. She'd pour over every single one of her mother's gardening journals and build him a botanical garden, if she could, just to make him smile like that every single day.

But she swallows all of that down.

She settles on replying with, "I will. But right now I think our ice cream is melting."

His eyes get wide. "Shit! The pizza too!"

It's fine, though. Everything is salvageable, and before long, they're cuddled up on the couch with Julie's calico plush, who needs a name, and her heating pad, watching season three of Stranger Things. By familiar agreement, Reggie finishes her pizza crusts as she digs into her pint.

"You know," Reggie murmurs during a montage of non-stop bickering, "I kind of get why all of the kid couples are fighting, but why are the older couples acting like that, too? Shouldn't a healthy romance hit this point where it's kind of—boring?"

Julie hums. "They didn't think that was interesting enough, I guess?"

"As if they needed more conflict. And just—every couple? Come on, guys."

She laughs, which makes him laugh, too.

But she doesn't summon the courage to ask the question burning on her tongue until the start of the next episode.

"Would you want something like that?"

"An—exploding car?"

She giggles into his shoulder. "No, you goof. A relationship. One that's…not boring, per se, but domestic, I guess."

His fingers knot in the sleeve of her shirt.

"Well—I have you, don't I?"

Huh.

That's…huh.

Still, she knows a deflection from Reggie when she hears one.

And as painful as her next question is…

Julie has to know.

"What about your crush?"

He huffs. "I don't—having a crush as an adult is so embarrassing. I have like, three quarters of a degree! Could we not call it that?"

"Babe. You used that word like seasoning the last time you were drunk. It's fine."

She twists in time to see him wince.

"What—what all did I say?"

"Nothing you haven't told me before," she soothes, fumbling for the remote and pausing the episode. "At least, nothing else sticks out that I remember. I wasn't exactly sober, myself."

Realization dawns in Reggie’s eyes.

"The night that Willie brought us home."

"Yeah. But Reggie…you've been talking about this crush for months now. When are you going to just go for it?"

He worries his lip between his teeth.

"I don't think I can. I—I can't."

"Why not? You're the sweetest man I've ever met. Who wouldn't want you?"

This only seems to stress him out more, for some reason. She hands him the calico, and he squeezes it, exhaling slowly.

"I can't risk it, Julie. It's someone who's already precious to me, and I—I can't even imagine losing them."

He makes the mistake of meeting her eyes and damns himself further by flinching.

"Oh," she breathes, "it's…me?"

He lets out a little self-deprecating laugh.

"Yeah. It was foolish of me to start falling for my roommate, huh?"

"I'm a bigger fool than you," she says softly, which snaps his gaze back to hers. "I'd already fallen for you by the time you agreed to take Flynn's spot on the lease. I had a crush on you…freshman year?"

Reggie gapes at her. "But—we didn't—"

"Really know each other then? Because I barely spoke to anyone?" She shrugs. "You were kind to me, anyway. My mom had just died and I was always so sad and you…didn't treat me like I was some kind of bomb. You made me laugh. And…"

He waits, still staring at her owlishly.

She smiles even as tears sting her eyes.

"You were the one who eventually introduced me to your friends and brought me back out of my shell. Flynn did, too, but…I got over the crush I had on her. Not you, though. With you, I just keep falling."

Reggie’s mouth works, but no sound comes out. Finally, what falls out of it is—

"So I assume you aren't kicking me out?"

Julie laughs so hard that her cramps come back with a vengeance, which worries Reggie so much that they both fall off of the couch in his flailing, but before long they're giggling and grinning like idiots, tangled together on the cheap carpet.

And maybe it's not the most romantic moment to kiss someone, but for them?

For them, it's absolutely perfect.

[caxycreations]

Tylvinian Tales: The Wolf's Den

Chapter Twelve: Awakening

Ferusian Law, Fourth Sequence, Article 3: Law of Coercion

Coercion is defined as the act of persuasion via threat or force.

Anyone found guilty of coercion is punishable by up to ten years imprisonment

and a fine no less than 45% of their expected annual income.

Darkness, cold, the metallic scent of sterile air. My eyes opened slowly, taking in my surroundings. Where was I? I wasn't at home, the beige curtains blocking the light were proof enough of that. Everything felt foggy, the haze of sleep barely lifted as I looked around the room. The walls were a soft baby blue, with a TV mounted in the corner of the room. The bed had railings on either side of it, lowered at the moment, the metal dented and broken in places. I was in a hospital room. Why was I in a hospital room? My eyes fell on a sleeping figure in a chair by the wall opposite the curtained window, white track jacket and auburn fauxhawk a dead giveaway as to who it was, even with my vision being blurry as it was.

"Trace?" I asked, my voice hoarse and weak as I turned my head to face him fully. He stirred and, after a moment, lifted his head to look at me. His eyes went wide and he stood quickly, wincing and grabbing his side. He relaxed a little and stepped up to the bed, smiling. 

"Hey man, welcome back to the land of the living." He said with a grin. My vision was clearing, the haze fading and everything coming into focus. His jacket was open, white t-shirt stained with crimson, his jacket bearing a similar, albeit smaller, stain where it had seeped through. The events of before came back to me in an instant, from Trace's injury to tracking David, to the people I'd-

Oh gods. I...I had killed them. I'd lost control. I'd finally snapped and people were dead.

I started to speak, but no words came. My throat felt tight, my chest felt tighter, and my heart was running circles around entire planets, beating as quickly as the wings of a hummingbird. My breath hitched, then quickened, and the room started to spin, slowly at first then picking up speed. I grabbed the railing, feeling the metal bend and give under the force of my grip. That grip was dangerous. I was dangerous. I was a murderer. My mind supplied me with evidence of that in the form of a memory, clear as crystal, of the owl, their head colliding with the back wall of the room as their body lay still at my paws. I could still see them twitching. 

I was suddenly forced back into the present by a soft hand on my shoulder, gentle and hesitant. I snapped my eyes to the figure, seeing Trace was no longer the only person in the room. Moss and David had joined us, with David standing before me, hand on my shoulder. His lip was still injured, but seemed to have healed well, and the bruising was further along than I remembered it being. Even the cuts and scratches along his arms had seemed to heal. He was in a different outfit than I remembered, a blue sundress rather than the shirt and pants he'd been in when I'd...when I'd saved him.

"Ryder, what is it?" he asked, worry filling his voice. I looked him in the eyes and felt my emotions swell. I tried to get up, wincing and hissing at the pain. I looked down, lifting the blankets. I was in a hospital gown, and after a moment I unzipped the front partway, checking my body. I had bandages along my side, patch gauze on my chest and stomach, as well as my shoulder. My eyes went wide at the sight, I'd never been hurt before. Even falling as a kid, where others would find scrapes, bruises, and the like, I'd never so much as felt the pain of a fall.

But I had been shot. I had been stabbed. I'd been clawed so deeply I'd ripped the claws from the poor bastard that did it.

I tried my best to keep my breathing steady, and felt a hand join David's, this one on my back.

"Uncle Rye, it's...It's okay, they're just bandages." they said quietly. 

"I don't need bandages." I said, incredulous. "Never have."

"Well this time you did, dumbass. Next time you go fighting someone with a gun, or a knife, remember those are made to punch right through skin, doesn't matter how tough you are. You're no armored lizard, you know." Trace said with a smirk. His devil-may-care attitude was, as much as I hated to admit it, exactly what I needed right now. David was worried. Moss was worried. Trace knew I was okay and wasn't afraid to act like it. I nodded, turning to look at them all.

"I'm fine, don't worry s' much about me. You all look pretty okay...How long was I out for th' count?" I asked, not seeing my phone, or a calendar, anywhere.

"Just a couple days. Long enough for me to find the time to drop by and stop these idiots from doing anything stupid while you were down. You know, like getting kidnapped again." A pretty voice called from the door. It was feminine, and low, with a hint of the beauty of a ringing bell. "Sorry for the wait, had to grab a drink." Davina said with a grin, walking into the room with a bottle of Forest Fountain. She was wearing a simple black crop top, black cargo pants, a bright aqua belt with an aqua strap loop dangling down against her right leg. She wore pale blue fingerless gloves, and her hair, brushed and carefully tended to, covered her left eye, the brow piercings above her left eye shining a little in the light. I lay back in my bed, chuckling.

"Always gotta be fashionably late, dont'cha 'Vina?" I asked, grinning a little. 

"She's not fashionably late, she's just selfish. Soda isn't as important as Ryder, Sissy." David scolded, pouting a little. He looked at me worriedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What my sister means to say," Davina said, leaning on David, her head on his shoulder, "is that I knew you would be okay because out of everyone here, I'm the only one with enough sense to see that you've been stable for the last day and a half, and a few shots and little pokes wouldn't be enough to take you out." She said with a grin. David let out a mrow of discontent, nudging her away.

"Just because I'm in a dress doesn't make me a girl!" He said in frustration, drawing a laugh from Davina. Moss walked up to me while the twins bickered, and leaned on the bed a little.

"Uncle Ryder? How are you feeling? Did it...hurt?" they asked, brow furrowing a little. I shook my head.

"I didn't even feel it when it happened, was too focused on gettin' Davey outta there. If'n I'd been a lil less pissed, I probably would'a been a pile'a pain on th' ground. How 'bout you, pup? They do anythin' t' ya?" I asked, reaching over to hug the young hybrid.

They shook their head, smiling a little. "Trace protected me. He made sure they never got anywhere near me." 

"Well, glad for that, ain't no doubt." I said, biting back anger. Trace had a choice to protect one or both of them and had chosen Moss. I couldn't blame him, I would have dove in front of David, no hesitation. Moss was like Trace's own kid, and if I faulted him for putting him first I'd be a hypocrite.

Trace, David, and Davina bickering in the background tuned out, and I focused on Moss completely now, smiling a bit. "Y' wanna know somethin' cool?" I asked, grinning. Moss nodded, leaning in a little to hear me better. "Th' guy guardin' th' door pissed himself when he saw me." I said with a smirk. He hadn't, but Moss didn't know that, and I knew it'd sound better if he had. The caxling laughed, smiling at me. 

"Did he really?" They asked, smiling more.

"Sure as shit did. Picked'im up an' got right in his face, an' he got so scared he just let go." I explained, giving Moss a playful nudge. The caxling laughed more, hugging me a bit and turning to look at Trace and the twins for a minute.

"Hey, Uncle Ryder?" they asked, voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, pup?"

"Are...you and Uncle David gonna be...You know." they trailed off, tone curious. I was about to answer, but then I remembered what I'd said last night. How I'd felt.

"I don't know. Maybe." I answered, not wanting to give false hope, but no longer blind to the idea. "We'll see. Lemme get outta this hospital first."

----

They nodded, smiling a little and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I chuckled, giving a happy growl. That caught the attention of David and the others, with the caxy looking at me in mock hurt.

"Ryder! How dare you cheat on me!" he exclaimed through a poorly-masked smile.

"Hey! That's my joke!" Moss fired back, laughing and walking over to give his uncle a playful nudge. The pair laughed together and hugged, and I felt my chest heat up. We were usually apart, with Davina and Moss living so far away and Trace spending most of his time there. But with everyone together like this I was reminded what it was like to have a family. This was my family.

I thought of the people I'd taken from the world last night. The people I'd hurt. Did they have families? Were they thugs out of want, or necessity? Were they just in the wrong place at the wrong time, defending themselves from someone clearly on the warpath? Or were they really as bad as I'd thought at the time? Were they monsters, reveling in their work and delighting in the pain they caused?

I thought about the families they might have. What their funerals may look like, what their friends and loved ones would think. I had a choice of how to move forward. I could let this tear me apart, I could let this eat at me until I was a husk, haunted by the memory. I could ignore it, pretend it was no big deal, justify it and move on. I could let it teach me, motivate me. But no matter what I chose, my feelings wouldn't change. I sighed, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. It didn't matter, I had time to process it all. Right now, my pack was here for me. I watched David and Davina, the twins catching up and bickering, nudging and batting at one another, yet their tails curled around one another, as if they were afraid the other would fly away and never come back if they ever separated.

I watched Trace, arm around Moss, chatting with the caxling and talking about the next race, and who might be real competition or not, while the caxling kept their own tail swaying behind them, content.

The day went by smoothly, but while their injuries had been mild enough to be discharged less than a day after admittance, I was still under observation. The four of them left eventually, staff ushering them out so I could sleep, not that I actually expected to get any sleep to begin with. I lay there, eyes open and staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. The sky faded from blue to orange to black, and sleep still never came. A good thing too. I heard footsteps outside the hall regularly, but these sounded different. Harder, more purposeful. Closer. I checked the clock, wondering if it was some scheduled medication I hadn't been told about. Nearly ten at night, it was almost on the hour. Maybe it was a medication.

The door opened, and my blood froze, eyes wide as I stared at the figure in the doorway. Purple scales, crisp purple suit, and vibrant, dangerous fuchsia eyes met mine as Kaleb strode in without a care. I tried to sit up, to grab the remote to call a nurse, but I couldn't move. I was vulnerable here, injured, already in bad shape. Every instinct I had told me to fight, to run, to dive out the window if I must, but whatever I do, get away from this man, now. But his stare met mine and I couldn't move. I could barely breathe.

"Hello, Mr. Trayson," He said plainly, "I hear you have been quite busy recently."

I growled, or tried to, my voice catching in my throat. Why couldn't I act? What was so intense about this man that I couldn't do anything? I felt my anger bubbling up, and then dissipate to fear. That anger was deadly. It was dangerous. That anger killed. That anger couldn't be allowed to take over, not again.

"Don't worry, the staff is well aware of my presence, and are well aware of my intention to visit you tonight. I would like to discuss something with you." His voice was calm, cold. His eyes never left mine, and for the longest time I wondered if he even blinked. He held out a paper, placing it on my chest. I tried to look down, but couldn't bring myself to leave his gaze.

"Your application has been accepted, but that isn't what I've come to discuss." He said as he pulled a folder from the inside pocket of his suit, opening it up and drawing a series of photos from it. Bodies on metal tables, pictures from a morgue. A single photo of me, lifting a wolf from the ground, their head planted firmly against a wall. Another photo, lifting them high, facing the other way, blood running down the side of their head. These were from the start of the night, when I had just found where they had taken David.

"How-" I asked, only to be cut off.

"I have many people on my payroll, including a few coroners and private investigators. I can't allow a prospective employee to be an unknown element, and so I ensure each one is well-investigated prior to hiring." He explained, as if it were so simple. I couldn't look at the photos, both out of inability to leave his gaze and out of fear of what I would see. He withdrew the photos, returning them to the folder. I stared at him, brow furrowed. What was this? Blackmail for crossing out his offer? Was he going to try and force me to take his deal? I watched him draw something else from his pocket, holding it in front of my face and blocking my view of his eyes, breaking the spell. It was a small slip of paper with my face on it, the same image from my driver's license, along with various details about me. Age, height, weight, address, phone number, even my Citizen Identification Number. At the bottom was text, explaining that the signature on the line below indicated an agreement to serve under Kaleb as... an enforcer?

"An enforcer? Enforcer'a what, exactly?" I asked, already suspicious. I was already hired, security for his club, what else could he possibly want with me after knowing what I'd done? The thought sent a chill down my spine, the answer forming in my head along with a select few others.

"You would be muscle for another of my organizations, one which works underneath the public face of my businesses. You'd be doing nothing illegal, mind you. I simply require more hands in some places, and yours have proven quite capable in matters such as these. I do not expect you to comply freely, of course. You will be heavily compensated, and of course, I would offer the fullest protective services at my disposal to Mr. Seltz. I would also be willing to testify on your behalf should the events of that night result in a trial." He explained.

I growled, looking at his face, keeping my eyes locked just above his eyes, now knowing better than to look into them. "And if I don't?" I asked, my tone accusatory.

"Then I will supply these photos to the Agency, anonymously of course, and they will know where to look. I will admit I am quite curious to see how you would ensure Mr. Seltz' safety from behind the bars of a jail cell." He said with a sickeningly calm smile.

"I wouldn't go t' jail. Was protectin' David, they were torturin'im. No Agent would even consider puttin' me on trial for it." I barked back. He thought he had me. I needed to keep control of the situation, I couldn't let him win.

"Perhaps. But this particular group was meant to meet with another, and it seems they never showed. Their buyers were quite upset about this. It wouldn't be hard to believe that perhaps you were sent by the buyers to clear them out as punishment for reneging on the deal, with Mr. Seltz simply being collateral, and a convenient alibi. And of course, were you to attempt to tell the Agency such things are falsehoods, the very same people who would protect Mr. Seltz could just as easily turn a blind eye should he find himself cornered or otherwise endangered, which, should you try contacting an Agency about this, is quite likely to happen."

I stared at him, fear seeping in. I looked down, gripping the sheets. If I didn't take the offer, he'd find some way to spin it to paint me as a criminal, and worse than that, David would be in more danger than ever. I knew his story was bullshit, but a court of law that didn't know me, one that saw how brutally I'd handled the situation? I couldn't imagine a single jury out there that wouldn't convict me for it. Excessive force at best, mass murder and ties to a gang at worst. On top of it all, if I took his offer, he'd protect David, and if I didn't, I'd be at a disadvantage keeping him safe, even if I was deemed innocent. I'd be under scrutiny the rest of my life, and David would be under constant threat.

I snatched the paper out of his hands and held a palm out, which he dropped a pen into. I looked at him again, then began writing in my own details on the paper.

"Under no circumstances are ya t' send me on any work that'll involve killin', or even beatin' folks. An' ya can't put me on no job but guardin' an' intimidation. I'll look as mean as ya need me t' look. But I ain't hurtin' nobody for ya. Clear?" I said sternly, glancing at him, pen hovering over the line.

"As clear as air. And you can trust that Mr. Seltz will be well-protected at all times. He won't even know." He said with a cold, unfeeling smile. I nodded, and with a careful stroke of the pen, wrote my name on the line, signing myself away to Kaleb Killian.

[taughtdefense]

you're deathly quiet. your face is set in a hard grimace as johnny & the eagle fang students walk away from the rest of miyagi-do, miguel being one of them. you watch them until they disappear past the gates. it's understandable because hawk is one of his best friends. you look glance over at sam, brushing a hand over her shoulder absentmindedly, carefully gauging her reaction to everything happening. you agree with sam - if the miyagi-fang students roll over & do nothing, they're going to keep attacking because they can get away with it. your mom & dad are both quiet from where they're standing next to demetri, clearly annoyed with cobra kai's actions. they're looking right at you. they know you're not going to act like nothing happened. your anger has been barely containable lately. you've been angry with the world since robby joined cobra kai back in december.

your hands curl up into fists, fingernails digging sharply into your palms until you draw little crescents of blood that slowly begin to slip down your fingers. your shoulders tremble with anger, having to close your eyes so no one sees the way your eyes start glowing bright red with anger. something in you snaps violently, tearing you apart from underneath your skin. thunder rumbles in the distance, the wind picking up violently. you can hear various items shaking items inside of the dojo, like the picture frames of past sensei's of miyagi-do dojo, & the wind chimes. you don't even realize you're moving with a newfound purpose, grabbing your hoodie from the ground & brushing it off absentmindedly. you don't hear your friends, sensei or even your parents chorus your name, all different levels of confused & concerned. you're so laser-focused on moving, a man on a mission. you're already at the fence where johnny & the eagle fangs disappeared, only pausing when emma asks a question that actually, finally registers in your head.

❝ ethan, where are you going? ❞ she calls. ❝ i'll be back soon. ❞ you reply, but don't elaborate further while pulling your car keys out of your pocket. you ignore their concerns, moving towards your rolls royce. you see hawk & the group in the distance, deciding to get in & drive up to the group. you roll the window down, even as it starts to rain ( your doing ). ❝ ethan? where are you going? ❞ johnny looks a little shocked at the hard-set expression on your face, squinting in the rain. he's not seen that look on your face since he very drunkenly admitted to accidentally shoving robby into the lockers just a few weeks ago, while you were helping him clean up his apartment he'd left a mess. it's a look he remembers very well, even in his drunken state.

miguel looks nervous. that look on your face is downright terrifying. ❝ what are you plan- ❞ you cut miguel off, something you would have felt bad doing anything other time, but now is not the time to talk. ❝ who, hawk ? ❞ hawk winces at your protective but cold tone, pulling his hoodie strings tighter so the hood hides his shaved head, better protecting him from the rain.

❝ robby. ❞ he mumbles. johnny looks sharply at hawk in surprise, then sighs heavily. his disappointment washes over you as you empathetically feel the emotion. you say nothing, but all of the anger you feel changes from the entire dojo to a singular person: robby. thunder booms violently & the wind gust rattles your car, pelting the car with colder-than-normal rain. the eagle fang members all look nervous/alarmed at the sudden intense rainstorm, & you use your powers cut back on it. your hands tighten a bit on the steering wheel, blood starting to dot the steering wheel, knuckles ghastly white.

❝ i'll stop by your house in a bit, hawk. ❞ your tone is alarmingly flat. you don't explicitly promise you'll be fine. an entire dojo vs. one person… admittedly, the odds wouldn’t be great if you weren’t you. ❝ ethan- ❞ you ignore miguel's concerned lecture, no doubt, revving the engine. you peel out of the driveway of miyagi-do dojo, heading down the dark, rainy road.

you drive with a single goal in mind. it only takes you a short, three worded text & a dropped location pin from ciro to find out everyone's locations. they're out celebrating like they won the fucking super bowl. like they didn't commit gang assault or psychological warfare; almost an entire dojo vs. one. they really find hawk that much of a threat? it's so fucking ridiculous that it makes you want to laugh out loud, bitterness the primary emotion. in the rearview mirror, your pupils momentarily flash yellow, signaling incredulousness. you wait for a stoplight to turn green. the storm seems to ramp up in intensity with each second that passes.

you park in front of the local restaurant & get out of your car, slamming the door shut. inside, damiana, ciro, shadow & gray all freeze at practically the same time. dami even stops herself mid-sentence, her fork & knife stilling as an icy feeling of dread. shadow blinks, giving a tiny, barely noticeable nod. she quickly excuses herself. she rises from the table & makes a beeline for the front door, meeting you halfway up the steps. you step back onto the pavement, the anger in your eyes unmistakable. ciro exhales heavily. he looks like he’s anticipating a nuclear bomb hitting the restaurant, quickly excusing himself to follow after his eldritch friend. tory, nova & scarlett frown at their friend’s sudden weird behavior. kyler, landon & nolan all exchange looks with each other, landon with jaime.

❝ big brother, listen. you need to calm down- ❞ dami begins placatingly, attempting to diffuse your enraged state. she senses your rage & it terrifies her. she knows that this rainstorm was definitely your doing. you just stare at her, fingernails digging into your healed-over palms once more. ❝ why would i do that? ❞ inside, kyler peeks out the window & blinks in surprise. ❝ guys, ethan’s here. ❞ he announces to his fellow students. a small smirk touches his lips. ❝ he’s all alone. time for a beat-down. ❞ he looks thrilled with the idea.

the cobra kai students file out of the restaurant, tory nudging @taughtpain’s shoulder as she walks past him, silently urging him to get up & follow after everyone to see what’s going on.

when the cobra kai students file out of the restaurant, you & dami move back towards the parking lot to give them some room, still staring at your twin sister with a blank expression. you look at tory, smiling coldly. tory freezes in place, heart skipping a beat. her eyes widening in surprise. she’s never seem you look like that before. not at the house break-in, not even during the glimpses she caught of you during the school fight she started. you don’t speak directly to robby, but the group as a whole. when you speak, your words remain flat. you remember tory’s words the night the blonde broke into the larusso household on kreese's orders, a tiny, cold smirk pulling your lips up.

❝ heard you guys were celebrating. hope you don’t mind if i crash. ❞

she flinches like she’s been slapped, but you ignore her. dami tries to diffuse the situation, but you're furious. you take a single step forward, dark, enraged eyes on robby. shadow & gray immediately step to the sides, while most of the other students step up to fight you. dami, gray & shadow all give you a very wide berth. you don't pay any attention to them. it's like they're not even there. you just stare at robby. if you were human, the idea of taking on a dojo full of trained students would daunting. but you're not, & that gives you much more of an advantage.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Fatalistic Mindset (Fic Part 161. Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor

Reference Posts: ‘Giantess’/'Blacklight Bandit’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ’Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

"Oww, fuck, God Damnit, shit." Kirby murmurs as she tries one last time to get free of the rope, only making it tighter around her leg.

He comes running, gasping softly when he sees Kirby hanging and untangles her as fast as he can.

"Thank you." Kirby squeaks out as she attempts to stand, immediately making the pain worse.

"Lie down." He orders, his voice more serious than Kirby's ever heard.

She immediately obeys his orders, a hint of fear in her eyes.

"I'm gonna call an ambulance and they're gonna have to bring you to the hospital. I'm sorry, but I can't fix you up alone here."

"No, Shane, you know how much I hate hospitals, please don't, please."

"Honey, I can't fix this break. They need to give you x-rays. Maybe surgery. If you want to walk again, we need to get you to the hospital."

"Fine, fine, I'll go to the damn hospital, I won't enjoy a second I'm there, but for the sake of walking and work, I'll do it."

"I don't expect you to like it. But a fall like that puts the baby in danger too, and I'm not taking chances."

Kirby nods in agreement and waits for the ambulance to arrive. It takes a few hours but eventually Kirby's left leg is in a cast and they're back at home, the estimated time of healing is five months, which only seems to have made Kirby grumpier than usual. Helms has fully shoved down his feelings from the morning and is trying to keep from making the air in the house any grumpier. It only gets a little bit better when the group turns up, having heard of Kirby's injury, Kirby's sitting between Lita and Delilah on the couch and complaining.

"Sure, the baby's fine, I'll be in a cast for five months, but the baby's okay, just focus on that… I hate hospitals, and I hate the barn, and I… fuck it, I hate myself too."

"And just why do you think you have permission to hate yourself?" Delilah asks.

"Oh I don't know, because I'm the only person who has to live inside my own head every day of my life and I fucking hate it, I'm so fucking stupid and ignorant that my own husband probably hates me right now and I hate myself so fucking much that I don't care if I get fired at this point, I just want to disappear into thin air and have everything about me be forgotten forever."

"Did he or did he not get you taken care off because he knew that even though you hate hospitals, he had to bring you to help you?"

"Dee, I fucked up earlier, and now the universe is making me pay for it, so if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go find a good place to curl up and die." Kirby grumbles, attempting to get up.

"You'll do no such thing. You're gonna sit here and not put weight on that cast yet."

"Try and fucking stop me." She murmurs as she pushes herself up off the couch, wincing as she stands up.

Delilah and Lita both grab an arm and pull her back down, "Not moving, kid."

Kirby buries her face in her hands, feeling the lowest she has for a long time.

"Just get the feelings all out. No judgement here."

"I have never felt as useless as I do right now, I can't fucking do anything, the only thing I'm good for is being a human incubator."

"That's not true and you know it."

"It is true, I'm completely fucking useless."

"And just how do you figure?"

"Why do I need to tell you that?"

"Because if you don't have a good reason, then you wallow in the title when it isn't even valid."

"I'm getting real fucking sick of everyone dictating how I'm supposed to feel and act, and I'm getting super close to just going fuck it and hurting myself some more." She growls.

"I'm dictating cause you say you hate yourself and I ask why and you don't have a good reason for it. You say you're useless and can't explain why. You're giving yourself yourself these awful titles and we're just supposed to sit by and listen to our friend hate herself?"

"Do you think I like waking up every day and having to at look myself in the mirror, I don't, I fucking hate every single part of me, the only good things in my life are Shae and you guys, and if I didn't have him, or any of you, I would have ended my life a long time ago. I wallow in my own misery because I have grown to know it as home and I hate being the one person who is watched by everyone because no matter how unbiased they say they are, deep down everyone either hates me or loves me and I don't want to be the one person who has to carry my father's legacy on my back. I have hated myself since I was thirteen years old and not one person has taught me how to love myself and had the lesson stick, so what makes you think I'm happy with the way I am, who the fuck are you to dictate how I should be?!"

"We're your friends. We're the ones who don't leave your side and kick you in the ass when you're being dumb. Your dad's legacy isn't all on you anymore. It's on your kid too. And yeah, maybe no one told you how to love yourself, but that's because it's no one's responsibility except your own. They can't teach you something you refuse to teach yourself."

"Why don't you all just fucking leave me already, I don't deserve people like you in my life and I'm always the fucking problem!" Kirby yells, getting up and storming off before anyone can stop her, heading outside of the house and towards the front gate.

"I swear, if she fucking falls on those crutches…" Lita sighs.

Kirby swears under her breath as she hobbles towards the edge of town, trying her hardest not to let the pain or her emotions get to her.

"Helms! Your wife left again!" Lita called through the house.

Kirby gets to outside the church and gives in, sitting on a bench outside as it starts raining. Kirby sighs as she gets up again, wolf-whistling for a taxi and double checking that she has her phone and wallet, before getting in the taxi and heading to a motel just outside of Ellerbe. Once Helms had heard she was gone, he'd tried to chase her down, but she was already halfway to town and taking the back roads he didn't know yet. Kirby signs in to the small motel and gets herself a room for a month, going to the room and sighing deeply as she lays on the bed.

"Guys, didn't she say anything before leaving?" He asks the girls.

"There was a lot of self hatred, then 'leave me alone' and then 'I'm the problem'." Lita murmurs.

Helms sighs softly, "I don't know how to make her see the truth anymore…"

Kirby texts Delilah, 'I quit, I'm done with the world, have fun, forget about me'.

"Does she really think we'll give up on her this easily?" Helms groans, reading the passed over phone.

"Shane, Kirby's text me that before, when she lost André… she text me and Kealani that, and then went off the grid for a while, wasn't until I saw her on WWF programming I knew she was still alive."

"She's serious about this? She's really leaving me?" He whispers.

"Shane, she ain't leaving you… she's making you a widower…" Delilah whispers.

"Oh no. No, she's not doing that. No, fuck that, I'm not letting that slide. I'm going to find her."

"There's a motel on the outskirts of town, if she's as predictable as she usually is, she's there."

"Someone wanna drive me? Feel like I might cause an accident if I drive."

Delilah nods, grabbing her car keys and heading to her car. Helms is shaking a little as she drives, trying to keep his nerves in check.

"Shane, I know you think you can stop her, but when she gets like this, she hardly ever listens to people, I know you don't want me to make it worse, but it's Kirby and she can be a dumbass."

"I can't let her die…" He whispers, "I can't lose my family a third time…"

Delilah goes as fast as the law will allow her, putting her knowledge of Ellerbe to good use, getting to the motel within ten minutes. Helms runs up to the motel, praying he can find her room. The motel staff are shocked and slightly taken aback by the erratic nature of Helms searching for Kirby, until one member of staff directs him to her room. He knocks on the door hard, almost desperately.

Kirby sighs, "go away, I didn't ask to be saved and nor do I want to be."

"I'm asking. Kirby, I'm the one asking." He whispers.

Kirby flings the door open, "Shane, what do you mean, why are you here, you plan on stopping me from doing something I should have done eight years ago?"

He looks up and meets her eyes. His own are red and watery, "I can't stop you. But I'll do anything I can to convince you otherwise. I love you. I can't lose you. I can't lose you too, Kirby, I can't. I won't make it without you…"

Kirby takes a deep breath, "Shane, you are the only person who I can't stand seeing me when all I wanna do is die, I can try and say go love with Shannon or the Hardys, but I don't think it would convince you to leave me alone to kill myself, I don't want you to hate me, but I feel like I'm the biggest problem in your life, like everything went to shit because of me."

"Went to shit?" He whispers incredulously, "Do you remember who I was before we actually got together? I lived in hotels out of a suitcase. I had a few friends, but no home, no family, not much of a career. You gave me a family, a home, more friends and a reason to continue. How dare you say you ruined my life when you're the person that made it finally worth living."

"Gregory Shane Helms, you take possession of everything I own, now if you'll kindly excuse me, I have some business to attend to, namely, ending my own fucking life." Kirby growls as she goes to the bathroom, her back against the door.

"There's something you can't give back to me." He murmurs.

Kirby stops in her tracks, putting the shard of glass from the broken shower wall on the counter and listening to Helms.

"My heart, Kirby. You have it and you always will."

Kirby cautiously opens the bathroom door, her body shaking and her breathing heavy, "don't, Shane, please, don't make this harder than it has to be."

"If you die today, I die too. If not literally, then emotionally. Please, Kirby, don't do this…"

"Shane, I… fuck, Shane, I don't want to hurt you… I'm sorry, fy ngwr, I'm so sorry." Kirby murmurs, breaking down and dropping to her knees, sobbing in pain.

He finally gets closer, holder her close to his chest. Kirby struggles to calm her breathing as she holds onto Helms, scared of ever letting go.

He rocks her slowly, "Anadlwch, fy ngharaiad. Yn araf ac yn ddwfn. Anadlu. Rydw i yma i chi ac ni fyddaf byth yn gadael. Rwy'n dy garu di." He whispers.

Kirby nods, trying to slow her breathing, failing at first but soon getting her breathing to slow down to a much safer pace.

"Voila. Tout est bien, mon amour."

[natsglorifiedsimp]

Hiiiiiii! Your friendly neighborhood anon is back with another prompt. Last one, then I’ll leave you alone :)

Prompt: Can’t Live Without You (part 2) All 6 stones have to be returned to where they were taken. So Natasha returns to Vormir.

The Stonekeeper nods, “You’ve returned with the stone.”

“No, I’ve returned with an offer,” Natasha pulls the stone from her pocket, “a trade: a soul for a soul.”

Hey hahaha. Please I insist you keep them coming. As I said you're the only one who requests fics and I'm happy to have them and write one. So don't leave me alone, keep sharing your ideas anon <3

Can't live without you 2

Taglist

@diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @simp-erformarvelwomen

"No, you can't go, Nat" steve firmly stated. This wasn't up for discussion and she hated it.

She hasn't been well since the day that you were gone. When she announced it to the team everyone was devastated but Nat has the greatest impact of all.

She was not okay mentally and physically and her being stubborn about getting back the stone herself is a big no-no for the team.

"I can go" she nonchalantly said.

"No nat, you can't go with me" Cap was getting annoyed at how Natasha was being stubborn. He glared at her and the ex-assassin happily glared back.

"You're not okay, Nat" Banner said, looking away from the glaring assassin. "Bruce's right" Sam backed up Banner but was given a death glare by the assassin.

"They're right Nat you're not okay"

"Don't you think I know that!" Nat shouted, fed up with everyone looking at her with pity.

She sighed, guilty for her sudden outburst "Just give me the soul stone then" Nat commanded handing her hand out to Steve. "I'd like to bring back that stone"

"Okay fine" Steve grumbled annoyed at how he's scared and folded at Natasha's commanding glare. But mostly he gave it up to give Natasha closure for your death.

Natasha beamed at him with the most sarcastic smile she could muster. She took the stone and readied her suit.

————

The trip to another time was as nauseous as she remembered. The cliff that gave her nightmares was still the same. The purple aura of the sky and the stone keeper who was ugly as he will ever be.

She watched as you and herself leaped at the cliff. She winced and waited until the inevitable happened.

No matter how far she was from the scene she could hear your body slamming to the ground and her bone-crushing scream.

Oh, how she hated coming back to this place but she had a plan. She needed to get you back.

When everything was clear she face the red-faced man again. She didn't question how the man or ghost? Didn't act surprised seeing her again after the scene that happened earlier.

"You've returned with the stone" the stonekeeper stated. He gazes at the stone that's resting in Natasha's pocket.

"No, I've returned with an offer" the stone keeper watched as Natasha pulls the stone out of her pocket and laid out her hands for the red-faced man to see. "A trade: a soul for a soul"

The stone keeper gave her a knowing smirk, the man floated at the edge of the cliff and Natasha followed him.

"Which soul would you like to trade?" The red-faced man said. Natasha wondered how many souls were sacrificed just for this stupid orange stone. How many did lose their loved ones?

"I want my daughter," Nat stated. "I want Y/n Romanoff"

The stone keeper waved his hand and with one swift motion, your body was lifted limply in the air. Your mom gasped at the sight. She thought she'll never see you again.

Your body lay on the ground and Natasha almost ran towards you but the stone keeper stopped her.

"The stone" he firmly stated. Natasha visibly rolled her eyes and handed it out to him. She immediately clung to your limp body and felt how cold you were.

"Why isn't she waking up?" she questioned the man. She jerked your body trying to see anything but to no avail.

"It'll take a few seconds" He simply stated, clearly not caring about the dramatics.

"Honey, it's time to wake up" she cried out, voice shaking, heart pounding.

"Mama?"

Natasha sighed in relief hearing your voice. Hearing those words. She sobbed into your chest and grasp you tightly, afraid you'd be gone again, afraid you'll slip out of her hold.

"What'd I miss?" You asked. Natasha sniffly chuckled at your bad humor at this very bad time.

"Don't ever do that again" she firmly scolded, her eyes filled with mixed emotions. You looked at her and grinned with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry, ma" you wondered how much pain she went through without you. "Seeing you here, does that mean we won?"

"Yes y/n we won" she mumbled. You smiled at her and got up to the ground. Natasha took your hand protectively and scowled at the ugly man.

"Ma" you trailed off and she hummed in response. "Do I get ice cream when we come home?"

"Really? That's what you're gonna say after everything?"

"I mean I just went to the ghost world and there is no ice cream there" you exasperated.

"Nope, you won't get ice cream"

[youssefguedira]

more fencing au for you all bc i thought about it too long

Joe returns to fencing six months after his injury.

Andy asks him if he's sure, but doesn't push when he says he is; Nile is delighted, updating him on everything that's happened while he's been gone; Booker and Lykon welcome him back without mentioning the competition he'd gotten injured during; Quynh smiles at him as he enters; Nicky, who Joe hasn't seen in six months, because they don't really know each other outside of fencing, seems happy, if a little surprised, to see him. When they're all getting ready, Nicky reaches for a sabre instead of his foil, and Joe smiles to himself. So that's how it's going to be.

Andy acts as referee. They claim one of the scoring boxes the second they're both ready, without really talking about it. The first point goes to Nicky, the next two to Joe once he's gotten used to it again after so long away. By the fifth, he's grinning under his mask, breathless with both the exertion and the joy of getting to fence again.

On the sixth point, after a particularly forceful lunge, his ankle twinges. He grits his teeth against the ache and keeps going.

By the eighth, his legs are beginning to ache with the strain of staying in guard position so long, something he hasn't had an issue with in years. On the ninth, when he lunges again, his ankle lands wrong - almost similarly to how he'd injured it in the first place - and he can't hide his wince at the pain that lances up his right leg. It takes him too long to recover from that lunge after Andy calls halt, and when he stands up properly, he has to lean heavily on his left leg.

"Joe?" Andy asks. "Everything okay?"

Joe wants to tell her yes, he just needs a moment, but then he takes a step forward and it's agonising. He hisses in pain. Andy and Nicky exchange a look.

"Maybe you should take a moment, Joe," Nicky suggests. It's a perfectly reasonable thing to say. It only serves to make Joe even more frustrated with himself.

He takes off his mask and disconnects himself from the scoring box without another word. The white light goes off and beeps repeatedly, but he ignores it, taking off his glove and unplugging his sword as he walks over to the corner where he'd left his bag. He leaves his sword, glove and helmet in a small pile and walks out of the gym, aware he's limping as he does. Someone turns off the scoring box.

The night air is cool against his skin. He unzips his jacket halfway and closes his eyes, fighting frustrated tears.

This shouldn't be so difficult. And he shouldn't be reacting this way. He'd known there was a risk of aggravating his ankle before it had fully healed, had known that six months was a little too early, but he had largely ignored it, because he'd missed fencing like a lost limb. And now, even after fencing for as long as he has, he can't even hold guard position for a full bout anymore. His ankle twinges. He shifts his weight to lean more heavily on his left.

The door swings open with a metallic squeal. Joe doesn't turn to look, worried that if he says anything he'll break down completely, and he doesn't need any of the others seeing him like this.

"Joe. Are you okay?" Nicky asks, and that's almost worse, because Joe has known Nicky for a while and likes him just fine but they're not really friends, not outside of fencing at least. Joe knows he's a foilist, that he trained in Italy for a long time before moving to the UK, and that he doesn't like talking about Italy for reasons he's never explained and Joe has never asked about. He doesn't even know what Nicky's job is. They just don't really talk about that kind of thing, and yet now here he is.

Joe rubs his eyes. "Yeah," he says, sounding entirely unconvincing.

"You know," Nicky says carefully. "It's not the end of the world, Joe. It just takes time."

"It's been six months, Nicky. I can't even hold guard position anymore."

"You have to work up to it," Nicky says.

"I know," Joe snaps. "I just - I don't know what I was thinking, okay? I just wanted to be able to fence again." I hadn't realised how much I missed it until I couldn't do it anymore, he doesn't say. He turns to look at Nicky instead, who's still in all his kit, collar half open, his hair tied back loosely. He's grown it out since Joe's been gone. He's looking at Joe like he's going to break down at any minute.

"What do you want to do?" Nicky asks, instead of trying to offer any more advice. Which. Joe hadn't really expected that.

"I don't know." Joe looks up at the sky and blinks a few times. All he knows is that he doesn't really want to go back inside. "Home, maybe, but I usually get a lift with Book, and…" He trails off.

"I can drive you," Nicky says. "If that's what you want."

Joe stares at him, surprised. "You - really? We've barely even gotten started, you'd be leaving so early."

Nicky shrugs. "Don't worry about me. Do you want to go home?"

Joe doesn't reply for a moment, but then sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Okay," Nicky says. "Wait out here, I'll get your stuff. If that's okay."

It is, so Joe nods, and Nicky disappears back inside the gym. A few moments later, he reappears with Joe's bag slung over one shoulder and his car keys in hand. "Let's go," he says.

The drive back to Joe's apartment is largely silent, apart from Joe's occasional directions. When Nicky pulls up outside Joe's building, Joe doesn't get out of the car straight away. Doesn't even really realise that they've stopped until Nicky says, gently, "Joe. We're here."

"Hm?" Joe says, turning to look at him. "Oh. Right." He doesn't move.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nicky asks.

Joe thinks if he talks about it he'll break down. "No."

"Are you going to be okay, then? On your own? Because it's okay if not-"

"I'll be okay, Nicky," Joe says, even if he's not entirely sure about that. "You can go back to the others if you want." He reaches to undo his seatbelt. "Thank you for the lift, though. I mean it."

"Joe, wait," Nicky says. When Joe does, he pulls a scrap of paper and a pen from the glovebox and scribbles something down, leaning against the dashboard. He holds it out to Joe, who takes it. "If you do want to. Talk about it, that is."

Joe looks down at the paper in his hand. It's a phone number - Nicky's. He tucks it into the back pocket of his breeches. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, again." He closes the door and walks towards his building door, looking back over his shoulder only once to see Nicky, still parked on the sidewalk, looking back at him. He smiles softly when Joe meets his eyes.

Joe looks away, his head down, and walks inside.

[books-and-catears]

Hi! If requests are open could i request the brothers with a teen MC who's stressed about school?

When they come home they immediately throw themselves to bed, they often have headaches, they become more cold and distant, they often have a hard time submitting homework on time and they're not as lively as they originally were. How would the brothers comfort them?

I'm so fucking tired rn, i know it's the last month (even tho It's more like 15 days) but my teachers are starting a new important project where we have to host an EVENT along with our exam that is coming up in a week. And we're in fucking highschool-

Aw I think I accidentally opened my asks again but I read this and I relate so much to this; I needed this as much as you. Being a student is too hard sometimes. *hugs* Sorry sweetie you must be so exhausted too?

I'll definitely write this. I apologize if it's a bit short but thank you so much for this ask. I'll try and do my best okay?

Exam season has just rolled out in Devildom and Diavolo had recently announced that the Exchange students will not have a reduced syllabus and have to study like the rest of the demons, to get a better understanding of their culture and history. This sudden increase in work hasn't been easy on you.

Lucifer

He notices something off with you when you stop telling him leave his paperwork and get some rest. These days it seems he has to pull you away from your work.

He can see how dull and lifeless your eyes look as you try to politely sit through meals with everyone.

"MC do you have some time to talk?" He asks you one day in the middle of homework. "I'm a little busy Lucifer maybe later. I still have finish three more these essays." Wow how the tables turn.

He was planning to have tea with you, but as you usually leave the tea near him when he's working, he did the same. "Don't worry MC I'll take care of this." He whispers to himself.

You're only a child, why are you being so overworked? This is ridiculous. Immediately takes it up with Diavolo and the authorities at school to make sure you're not given more than you can handle.

Mammon

What do you mean you're not up for movie night? Again? This is the fifth time you've denied him. Mammon starts getting worried about you.

At first he's afraid that maybe you're only mad at him so he asks his brothers who you are spending time with. You are nowhere to be found in any of their rooms.

He reaches your room and finds you curled up in bed, groaning in pain, holding your head. "MC what's wrong?" You manage to squeak out, "Head hurts." It looks really bad from the way you're wincing.

He goes into panic overdrive, going up to Satan and Lucifer, even ringing up Solomon for headache cures. After you get a little better, he found out that it's school stress that's doing this to you.

Godamnit Diavolo! Why would you think it's okay to send a little human to Demon school? They work differently don't they. He will volunteer to do most of your work at school- even though he forgets his own.

Leviathan

Levi was excitedly waiting for you to show up to play his new game. It was the usual routine for you to come back from school, freshen up and then join him gaming four days a week. But you haven't showed up. For the third time this week.

He keeps texting and calling you but don't reply. At first he thinks it's because he's a yucky otaku but then he notices you aren't even getting his messages. So he ventures out of his room and finds you in yours.

You were fast asleep in your uniform, your phone switched off due to low battery, your bed unmade and your bag in a slump on the floor. You look like a game character who got defeated in a fight.

When he hears it is the school stress that is doing this to you, he adamantly hatches a plan. "Levi we have school why anime now?" You ask as he drags you to his room.

"Because you need a energy recharge! So I told Lucifer you'll be staying with me all day and watch your favourite anime." Levi said, handing you a bunch of snacks.

Satan

This is the ninth day in a row you had fallen asleep in the library. Yes Satan was counting. Everytime he finds you, you're curled up in a chair with a heavy bookon your lap and your notebook and pens strewn across a nearby table. Overdue assignments.

"Oh MC again?" He mutters as he puts his jacket on you so you don't get cold. When was the last time you read a book with him? You seem so busy and distant these days. He noticed the way you kept denying all his brothers hence he didn't approach you himself. Now he understood why.

Diavolo must be barking mad in his head if he thinks an adolescent human can work the same way as age old demons. He feels annoyed at how you're being overwhelmed.

You wake up to him sitting next to you, writing down your assignments. "Satan why..." Satan smiles and palms your head, "You need to rest, you've been working too hard. I'll handle the assignments, you sleep some more, I'm taking you to a cat cafe later. Playing with cats will help you feel relaxed."

Asmodeus

Asmo notices the redness in your sunken eyes on the very next day after you pull an all-nighter. He offers you to come to his room but you decline saying you have to prepare for upcoming exams.

He finds it increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut and leave you alone when you look like this. Your skin is breaking out, your cheeks are sinking. You're starting to look like Lucifer.

Look at how school is ruining you! You are only a baby and yet you're starting look a workaholic corporate worker.

One day he's had enough with your lack of self-care and he drags you to his room. You try telling him off "Asmo I have exams-" He snaps back at you angrily, "Today is your day off whether you like it or not. I will not have you mistreating yourself like this. Now come on we're doing a home spa."

Beelzebub

Everything seems wrong. You aren't eating well. And today you look like you're about to pass out while eating dinner. He can't eat when you're like this - he doesn't want your leftovers anymore.

You try to smile at him, "I'm okay Beel. I'm just not very hungry." He isn't buying it but you leave so suddenly he couldn't say anything. You seemed to brush people off and be on your own these days.

He noticed you skip the lunchline at school to scurry off to a lonely table to finish up some work. He gets an extra plateful of food and sets it down next to you.

"Beel I said I'm not hungry." You try to say but Beel is having none of it. He snatches your stuff away. "School can wait, you need nourishments to work. I won't let you work before you eat all of this, MC."

Belphegor

This is heavily annoying to him. He sees you running out of your room, sneaking into the library to study at 3 AM in the night. Did you just wake up and decide not to sleep ever again?

When he tries to approach you about this, you act snappy and cold towards him. He doesn't mind - he understands why you're like this. He's grumpy half the time when he doesn't get to sleep either.

As if he needed more reason to resent Diavolo. Not only did he drag you down from Earth and now's he overworking you in school. Is this supposed to help somehow? Cause the only thing this has done is reduce the smiley chirpy MC to Lucifer version 2.0

One day he sees fall head first onto the floor as you try to flee your room. You stumble and shake as you try to get up again. "Okay that's it. Enough of this." Belphie appears and takes you back to your room, throwing you on the bed. "Belphie I'm fine I just need to finish-"

"You need to finish your sleep. I thought humans had better self-preservation than this. You will not get out of bed until you've caught up on your sleep" He tucks you in bed and stays there until you fall fast asleep.

[spencer-reids-adventures]

prompt request: derek/hotch/rossi someone who spencer respects seeing spencer have a meltdown/shutdown for the first time

---

It's not until he's outside the club that it really hits Spencer, and Derek is only seconds behind him, certain to come out the door at any moment, and that just makes everything worse. Derek is their acting Unit Chief now, and Spencer is about to make a fool of himself in front of him in a way Derek has never seen.

He should never have agreed to come out in the first place - he hates these sort of things - but Derek is his boss now, and it seemed like the right thing to do, to come along and celebrate the promotion, to put his fears aside and just get over it.

Except now he's in a (thankfully well-lit) alley, falling to the ground and squeezing his knees up against his chest, trying to convince himself that he's fine, he's escaped from the bright lights and loud noises and strong smells, the warm bodies bumping into him from every angle. He tries to tell himself, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine.

It's not fine, though, because the streetlights lining the alley are buzzing and there are noisy cars nearby, voices of people walking down the sidewalk, and the tag on his vest feels like a razor blade pressed against his back.

He fumbles in his satchel and pulls out a pair of earplugs, which he jams in his ears and then squeezes his eyes shut, rocking back and forth on the ground, letting his head bump against the brick building over and over and over. Not enough to injure, but just enough to distract.

His fingers tap patterns on his shins, he plays songs he has memorized on the piano, he hears them in his head. He tries to focus on them instead of the tears running down his cheeks, the wetness against his skin that makes him shudder, and then suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder and he screams.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Spencer hears Derek say faintly, and he reluctantly pulls out his earplugs and puts them away.

He wipes at his face with the sleeve of his blazer, and he's not sure which is worse, the feeling of the wet tears or the fabric which is like sandpaper. He winces and puts his arm down.

He opens his mouth to say something but the words get caught in his throat, like he can feel them but can't get them out, and it's infuriating. Instead, he signs the word "sorry," certain that Derek won't understand.

"It's okay, hey, it's okay," Derek says, and Spencer can't tell if it's a response or if he's just trying to be comforting. "Are you okay?"

Spencer nods hesitantly, then waves his hands vaguely around to try to signify, too much. He closes his eyes again and leans forward, banging his forehead against his knees.

Derek reaches out and gently takes Spencer's head in his hands, one palm on his forehead, the other on the back of Spencer's skull where it's sore from tapping against the brick. He holds on gently until Spencer stops rocking, until his shoulders start to relax.

"Want me to give you a ride home?" Derek asks, and Spencer nods.

They're silent on the ride home. Spencer still can't talk. Derek walks him up to his apartment and gets him settled, waiting for him to change into pajamas and then tucking him in with a blanket on the couch and a documentary on the TV.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Spencer nods.

He waits half an hour before he texts Derek:

I'm sorry that happened and you had to see it. It wasn't your fault. Thank you for taking care of me. You're going to be a great Unit Chief.