#my procedure and study was so so shit my only saving grace is that i could fill out an entire discussion section with how much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsamejin · 4 years

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it’s you || part 1 || taehyung angst/fluff || hanahaki au

Part 2

Summary: You’d rather live with thorns endlessly scratching the back of your throat than be devoid of the light that Taehyung brought into your life. Even if your love for him was slowly killing you, you didn’t mind as long as you could keep the warmth of his presence until the very end.

Warning: Mentions of throwing up, coughing up blood, death, some slight violence

Genre: Fluff, Angst, hanahaki!au, college!au, fuckboy!tae

Premise: Hanahaki Disease comes in different forms in this universe. The disease would eventually disappear if your love wasn’t that strong to begin with, but if you truly, deeply love someone, your flowers will rip at your throat. Throwing up flowers wasn’t a rare occurrence and for most people it disappeared after a few days. If Hanahaki persists, surgery is recommended, but it would severely dull the positive emotions of the person under surgery. Due to this, some choose to die with their unrequited love.

Commission Request: @guksflavor

Word Count: 8,313 words

—

Taehyung was obnoxiously handsome, too handsome to be a normal guy majoring in Psychology at one’s local university. Often mistaken for a celebrity, frequently breaking girl’s hearts, Taehyung was known as the campus “flower boy”.

It was never meant as a term of endearment. In fact, it offended Taehyung deeply when people would whisper about his private life as if he was incapable of hearing the slight jabs to his character. The nickname came from the notorious fact that Taehyung would cause several people to spit out flower petals from his mere presence alone.

It was the common case of “love at first sight”, a kind that never lasted very long after getting to know him.

Of course, throwing up petals was the first sign of the feared Hanahaki Disease, but it was never that serious when it came to Taehyung. The flowers would stop after a day or two and the girls who convinced themselves that Taehyung would be their future husband soon realized that their feelings never reached below the surface.

Their love was shallow, for no one really loved Taehyung outside of his good looks and he didn’t really mind.

Why should he when he hasn’t fallen in love either?

That’s why he was thankful for you and the rest of his close friends who scoffed at his blatant attempts at flirting. He was grateful for you helping him study or telling creepy girls off when they got a little too close to him at parties. He liked that you rejected his advances and that you cared deeply for him despite his tendency to annoy you. He appreciated having a friend that just... wanted to be a friend.

So why were you in the campus restroom stall, for the fifth time that week, spilling your guts out into the toilet? Why were you grasping at the wall, holding onto it for dear life, as you stared at a striking bundle of yellow flowers coated in toilet water? Why did you cry at the sight of beautiful and fully bloomed daffodils?

You swallowed back the incoming wave of discomfort but it kept coming. All because you couldn’t help but have your heart flutter when he put a hand on your shoulder. Your mind swam in thoughts of him and you weren’t quite sure if you could go on like this. If you could continue to want someone when it only brought you pain.

Why were you in love with Kim Taehyung when that was the last thing he wanted from you?

—

“Want to see something cool?” Taehyung asked, sprawled on your living room floor next to you. It was one of those lazy days you had with him, the kind that was only meant to be enjoyed by friends.

“No.”

Taehyung gave you a dirty look but sat up anyways.

“I’ve been working on my flexibility lately,” he chided. “I can touch my toes for 30 seconds now.”

You closed your eyes and gave him a fake smile.

“Good for you,” you sighed. Sometimes Taehyung had too much energy that you couldn’t match up with. You liked to humor him on days like this when he got extra pouty.

“So you’re not even gonna look?” he said, feigning sadness.

You rolled your eyes behind closed eyes and sat up to face him. You regret opening your eyes because his face was far too close to yours. You would have given him a flower shower right when your eyes locked.

“What was that?” he chuckled. “You looked like you saw a ghost or something. Am I that scary to look at?”

He squeezed your cheeks with both hands and you attempted to pull away from him, only to have him squeeze harder.

“Yes, you’re hideous,” you said through broke sentences. “A beast. You look like a half-eaten mango.”

Taehyung burst out in laughter and let go as he let himself collapse back on the floor. He was that confident in his looks to not mind your snide comments.

“That’s rich coming from you,” he cackled.

You glared at him and hit his stomach with your fist, earning a big ‘oof’ from the oversized child in front of you.

“Say one more word and I will never set you up on that date with my friend,” you threatened, hurt that you had to mention another girl for Taehyung to quit his laughing.

“I’m sorry my queen,” he said dramatically, pretending to kneel at your feet. “I have wronged you.”

You scoffed at his antics and pinched his ear as he wailed for you to stop.

“This is what you get for being stupid,” you said through his cries for help. You lifted his head up to your face and was met with a dazzling grin. Why did he have to smile like that towards you? Why did he lead you on in the most innocent way possible?

“You love when I’m stupid though,” he teased, attempting to tickle your sides.

‘I love you even when you’re not stupid,’ you yearned to say out loud, but the words never escaped your lips.

—

As the days passed it was getting harder and harder to speak. The thorns of some of the flowers made permanent etch marks in the back of your throat. You could muster yourself to sound normal on most days, but just earlier you had thrown up a dozen roses at a small social gathering and the embarrassment and pain had become unbearable.

You wished there was an easy explanation for your pain, but any time you tried to voice your thoughts out loud, you felt suffocated.

Your friends had noticed pretty early on that you had Hanahaki, but like everyone else, they thought it would disappear just as quickly as it came. Taehyung probably would have noticed if it weren’t for him being so desensitized to the disease that he never even bat an eye when you’d excuse yourself from the bathroom every time you two hung out.

He was the naive type, the one that needed to have it spelled out to him when an explanation was due. Maybe that’s why your heart would hurt so much at the thought of telling him about your condition. It would probably break him if he knew.

“[Y/N], at this point in time it’s imperative that you get surgery,” your doctor said sternly, twisting around in his chair. “It’s not safe to continue on without treatment.”

When the three month grace period passed, it was strongly recommended for you to get the surgery before your vocal cords were damaged beyond repair.

If you continued to suffer from Hanahaki, death would be awaiting any moment.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

You had your reasons for not wanting surgery. It’s not like you wanted to die, but getting the procedure came with its consequences. Emotions would not come easily and there would be an absence of love in your life... not just for the person you have feelings for, but for everyone around you. So here you were, six months in and losing your voice more and more as the days went by. You were aware of what awaited you next.

You would know. Your mom went through the same procedure.

“You’re very young,” your doctor started, sighing at your stubbornness. “I know that this is a difficult situation, but getting this surgery will save your life. I can’t force you to change your mind, but I want you to weigh your options.”

You nodded at him but tuned out his words as to not be convinced. You couldn’t bear to see Taehyung as just another face, no longer finding the meaning behind his smile, no longer seeing the beauty in his movements. You would rather die a painful death than let go of the love you had developed for a man who didn’t feel the same for you.

“I’ll let you know if I decide differently,” you replied with a whisper. He looked at you with a tinge of disappointment.

“I can’t prescribe a higher dosage of painkillers,” your doctor said solemnly. “Any more and that would be killing you just as much.”

You looked down onto your knees and felt tears stream down your face. Whatever you choose to do, it would end with you in heartbreak anyways. You figured this was the least painful option.

—

Taehyung was always the type to mess around and flirt without thinking. You could count time and time again of him getting kicked out of bars or clubs from talking to other guy’s girlfriends and leaving Jungkook and you to clean up the mess.

The intense gaze his eyes would hold when he’d see someone he found attractive, the way he’d confidently saunter towards them without feeling nervous. You admired Taehyung because he was someone you could never be. So himself, so unafraid of what the world would think of him.

You took a shot of whiskey and swallowed harshly. Your throat was burning from the petals that had invaded it earlier in the day, but you needed to drown out your feelings of sorrow somehow. Taehyung had managed to sneak back into the club, now making his way onto the crowded dance floor looking for his next target.

“You feeling okay?” Jungkook asked, patting your back as you coughed a bit at the taste. Jungkook was your mutual best friend with Taehyung, the defining person that made you the Three Musketeers. He was your rock when times were tough.

“I feel like shit,” you sighed deeply, watching as Taehyung grabbed an unassuming girl by the hand and blew her a kiss. “It’s like the flowers get bigger each day.”

Jungkook knew about your disease. In fact, he was the number one supporter of you getting that life-changing surgery that would impair your emotions for Taehyung permanently. He wanted you to live more than anything, even if it meant costing you a semblance of your happiness.

“Why don’t you just confess to him?” Jungkook asked bitterly. “I mean it couldn’t hurt, right? You’re basically preparing to die at this point.”

You scoffed at his straightforwardness. He was obviously upset with your decision to refuse the surgery and he was showing it to you in a very Jungkook way by making petty comments in a shady club.

He’d never gotten Hanahaki so he would never understand, you thought.

“If I told Tae, wouldn’t you think he’d hate me?” you asked genuinely, tilting your head up at Jungkook. He stared down at you and you could tell he was holding back... because you knew the right answer to the question was yes. He’d have the same reaction as any other womanizer who couldn’t keep a relationship to save his life.

Taehyung would hate you if you loved him.

“He’ll probably ignore you for a bit, but that’s him being stupid,” Jungkook sighed, patting you on the head to comfort you a bit. “I mean, he’d probably try and force himself into falling in love with you if you told him about your... situation.”

You pursed your lips. You could see Taehyung do exactly just that. That was his classic way of ghosting the girls he messed around with, but Taehyung would never commit to those same tactics with you. He considered you like family and he’d probably blame himself until the end of time if he were to find out.

“See what I mean?” you avoided eye contact with Jungkook as you felt your eyes tear up a bit. “It would be all fake. He’d hate me and then pretend to love me and then I’d die either way. It would hurt a hell of a lot more if I let that happen.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows and glared at you.

“There’s always the possibility that he does fall in love with you, y’know?”

You shook your head and fiddled with your fingers.

“Taehyung doesn’t fall in love,” you muttered softly.

The two of you stayed silent, aware that the words you uttered were true. Even as he danced with beautiful women around him, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes solely on Taehyung. He would never let himself be so vulnerable as to fall in love with somebody, let alone a close friend like you.

So why did you let him worm into your heart so easily?

—

Six months ago...

“[Y/N], I’m asking you just this once,” Taehyung begged, puppy eyes activated. “I am begging you to give me her number.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. He always wanted to bother you when you worked your shift at the bookstore. Somehow, Taehyung still didn’t want to make himself useful by helping you put away books.

“Tae, we’re in the same class,” you sighed as you stacked up some magazines on top of each other and pushing a bunch of them into one of the higher shelves. “You could just ask her yourself.”

He whined and gave you that infamous pout known to make every girl on campus swoon. If it weren’t for your self-control you would have punched him right then and there for trying to act cute with you while at work.

“I can’t be too direct,” he replied with those pouty lips. “The other girl I'm trying to get with in that class will notice.”

You scrunched your nose. For someone who hated giving people Hanahaki, he couldn’t help but play around with girls as if it were a sport. He was practically an expert in making himself hated amongst his exs.

“You’re gonna regret being such a fuckboy one of these days,” you warned, but taking out your phone to pull up her number anyways. “Mark my words.”

He let out a cheer and hugged you from behind, squeezing you until the oxygen left your body. You tried to push him off of you, but he didn’t budge. It was better to just let him get his clinginess out of the way and then kick him in the shins later.

“I’ll treat you to dinner for this,” he said, grinning as you sent him her number through text message.

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed. “Please let go of me I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

He laughed and kissed your cheek, a sound that resounded from the store so loudly that it made you wince.

“Love ya,” he smiled, rushing out of the store like a giddy teenage girl. You clenched your fists and touched the area he pecked. Somehow it made you angry at how excited he looked at the thought of another girl.

What did they have that you didn’t? Did you not exist to him at all?

You clutched onto your stomach as you felt something rumble. You felt an uncomfortable itch in the back of your throat and asked your boss if you could be excused. You tried making it to the bathroom in the back of the bookstore but you stumbled on a pile of books before you could reach your destination. You were on your knees, clutching your stomach as you hurled the contents inside of your stomach onto the wooden floors.

‘I’m so getting fired for this,’ you thought, as you kept your eyes clenched. When you decided to open them, you weren’t met with the soupy substance of the pizza you ate earlier that day, but with an array of pink peonies scattered across the floor. You shook your head out of disbelief.

No one throws up that many flowers on the first day of contracting Hanahaki. It was always one or two petals and it never came in full blooms of flowers. You had experienced this before with a boy back in middle school and it never turned out so... dangerously beautiful like this.

The sight in front of you was astonishing, the books stacked behind the scattered petals made for a picturesque view. Something about it didn’t sit quite right with you though, as if this signaled your demise.

You whisked through the flowers to see if anything abnormal was found in the flowers and there you saw it. Small specks of blood on the petals.

You realized then that you were screwed.

—

Present

The club continued to stay lively as Taehyung danced his heart out, simultaneously avoiding the bouncers that made their rounds around the club. He couldn’t risk getting kicked out again.

While you enjoyed seeing how much fun he was having, it made you sick to your stomach at how up close and personal he was with other girls. It made your blood boil at how easily it was for Taehyung to be so enamored with someone he could meet just five seconds ago, but feel nothing for you when you’d been friends for much longer. You held onto Jungkook’s arm to keep you steady as you felt another vomit session come up. You were starting to get dizzy and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

“You look like you’re about to faint any second now,” Jungkook said, worry etched all over his face. “Do you need me to take you home?”

You just laughed softly and grabbed onto the table in front of you instead of Jungkook. You weren’t leaving tonight knowing that Taehyung was still having the time of his life in front of you, even if it hurt to even stand. You just needed to take your mind off of him, that’s all.

“Jungkook, if you just randomly got amnesia one day and forgot everyone around you, how would you feel?” you asked him, pouring another round of whiskey into your glass to ease the headache.

“What does this have to do with you fainting?” he grumbled, stealing your shot and gulping it down for yourself. You scoffed at his blatant attempt to keep you from drinking.

“Just answer the question,” you said, now eyeing a girl Taehyung had his body pressed against. She looked about ready to pounce on him any second.

“I don’t know, I’d probably feel like shit,” he shrugged, motioning for you to pour him another drink. You obliged.

“Well that’s how getting that fucking surgery would feel like,” you said rather aggressively as now the girl was taking Taehyung to the back of the club, where the restroom stalls were. You felt the familiar feeling of choking occur but you muscled through it.

“You’re overreacting,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t drink the shot yet and instead handed it to you. He noticed Taehyung getting dragged to the restroom too and felt like you needed it, even if your hands were shaking as you grabbed it from his hands. You clenched your fist as you swallowed the cold liquid. It had flushed down the flowers temporarily.

“Not overreacting. I’ve seen it first-hand myself,” you said.

He looked at you, surprise written all over his face, but didn’t press any further. That’s why you appreciated Jungkook so much. He never overstepped his boundaries, unlike Taehyung who practically invaded your personal space each time you saw him. The two were so different from each other and you were so different from them. You wondered how the three of you even became friends.

“I don’t want to turn out like an empty shell for the rest of my life,” you continued, still holding the empty shot glass to your lips. “I’d rather die doing everything I wanted to rather than live a meaningless life.”

He glanced at you, slightly impressed by how stubborn you truly were. Nothing would get to you and no amount of pleading would make you change your mind. You weren’t going to get that surgery.

“So are you gonna make like a bucket list or what?” he asked, taking the whiskey and chugging it straight from the bottle. You looked at him in disgust as he detached himself from the liquor. It seems like both of you were drinking to forget.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” you smiled, finally setting the glass down as you saw Taehyung exit the bathroom looking disgusted. “Might as well since I’m gonna die anyway.”

You two laughed at the morbidity of it all. It wasn’t a funny situation to be in, but you had to make the most of it. Would this be the last time you go clubbing with Jungkook and Taehyung? Would your life end before it even really started?

“That girl puked hydrangeas on my fucking shoes,” Taehyung yelled, rushing to the two of you. “We gotta leave, I am not having her follow me around after this.”

Jungkook and you scoffed at his silliness. This was better, you thought. The atmosphere between Jungkook and you earlier was so grim. Typical Taehyung brightening up the mood wherever he went.

Even as the feeling of thorns pricked against your throat, you couldn’t shake off the smile that was on your face. For Taehyung had made you happy and you couldn’t imagine not feeling any emotion other than love as he looked at you with such sincerity.

You couldn’t bear the idea of Taehyung not having an effect on you.

—

“Please, Jungkook,” Taehyung cried, shaking him back and forth as all three of you stood in the university hallways waiting for the lecture hall to open. “Just give me the notes, I’ll give them back I promise.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue and tried to pull his backpack away from Taehyung who was furiously trying to make a grab at it.

“Fuck off dude, you should’ve studied when you had the chance,” Jungkook sighed, searching for some assistance from you. “It’s not my fault you got wasted at the club last night.”

Taehyung whined at Jungkook’s reluctance to help him out. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t cram any information that morning with that stupid hangover of his. Pretty soon, Taehyung was looking at you too, expectations written all over his face. You huffed out an annoyed breath and opened up your own bag.

“Tae, just use my notes,” you shook your head lightly, taking out the composition book tucked near the back of your bag. “Stop bothering Jungkook, he looks ready to start a fight with you any moment now.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up in a way that made your heart stop, naturally gravitating towards your direction. He looked so pure and innocent in moments like these when he gets something he wants. You couldn’t help but feed off from his positive energy.

You handed him your notebook as he stared at it in awe.

“You are the only person who wants to see me succeed,” Taehyung said dramatically, kissing your notes as if it were the seventh wonder of the world. Jungkook scoffed and smacked Taehyung’s head.

“What are you gonna do without [Y/N] always covering you?” he rolled his eyes. Somehow his words stung a bit.

You didn’t think Jungkook really knew the weight of his own words, but you were thinking deeply about it. What would Taehyung do without you being there for him all the time?

Taehyung shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, [Y/N]’s gonna be my guardian angel forever,” he teased and put an arm around you. You clenched your jaw and looked down a the floor. You could not let yourself yack some damn petals in that hallway during exam season.

"Do you not feel sorry for her one bit?” Jungkook scoffed, clearly done with Taehyung’s childish antics.

“Why should I?” Taehyung asked innocently, nuzzling into your hair as he held you tight. Somehow his touch felt suffocating, even though his arm was lightly placed on your shoulders.

“It’s not like she can live without me either,” he teased, booping your nose.

Jungkook and you exchanged glances and both simultaneously pulled on his ears.

‘If only he knew,’ you thought to yourselves.

—

After the quiz that Taehyung most likely failed, he invited Jungkook and you over to his place to eat some ramen.

“Sorry man, we actually have a life outside of you,” Jungkook said, declining his offer. “I’ve got extra shifts at work to cover anyways.”

You nodded at Jungkook’s excuse and proceeded with your own.

“I have some stuff to catch up on, so I can’t go,” you replied, trying to act nonchalantly. “Maybe next time, Tae?”

He shook his head at you two, feigning sadness.

“Both of you always act cold towards me, I’m starting to feel like this is a one-sided friendship,” he sighed, clenching his heart as if he was shot. It took everything in you to not step on his foot right then. He might not know about your condition, but the comments were unnecessary regardless if you had Hanahaki or not.

Jungkook and you simply stared at him and he awkwardly put his hand down when none of you showed a reaction.

“Fine, go do whatever,” he said, pompously. “I was gonna invite a girl over for dinner anyways.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Alright, bro. Have fun or whatever,” he said, trying to shoo Taehyung away. “I’ll walk [Y/N] to her dorm, you just leave.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue at him, but eventually left, leaving you to be with Jungkook alone.

“He’s the worst,” you sighed, and to that Jungkook nodded in agreement.

“You’re still choosing to die for him, though,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. You flinched at his words, saddened by Jungkook’s word choice. If he put it like that then you sounded like a weirdo.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you. You half-expected Taehyung to come back to you guys and interrupt your conversation to help lighten the mood, but he never came. Jungkook expected you to talk first since you were the one that asked to talk to him anyway, but it was clear his underhanded comment had made you uncomfortable.

“Why did you want to meet up with me anyway?” Jungkook asked, easing the tension just a bit.

You coughed awkwardly and looked up at him with a new sense of determination in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a while. You seldom looked motivated these days.

“It’s about that bucket list thing you mentioned yesterday,” you started. “I want to do one of the things as soon as possible.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Why?”

You bit your bottom lip, not quite knowing how to phrase what you were about to say without making Jungkook upset. He’d probably nag at you like he usually does.

“I don’t have a lot of time left, Jungkook,” you said softly. “I just want to do as much as I can before I get stuck in a hospital bed.”

He stared down at you with sorrowful eyes. He wished there was some other way to help you, one that didn’t ultimately end in you dying.

��What do you need?” he asked kindly, surprisingly taking your words pretty well.

You smiled up at him and pulled out a piece of paper from your bag. Jungkook took it from your hands and was met with small sketches of flowers that you had presumably drawn. He studied the designs carefully, confused.

“Okay, how the hell am I supposed to know what this means?” he asked you, angling the paper in different ways to see if he was supposed to crack a code or something.

You shook your head in disappointment. You thought he’d get it by now, considering it was in his line of work.

“Tattoos,” you said simply. “I want a whole sleeve of flowers on my right arm and a bunch of small ones on like my thigh-”

“Stop stop stop,” Jungkook said, waving a hand in front of your face to shut you up. “You want a what now?”

You smiled brightly and spoke with more confidence.

“I want tattoos!”

He scoffed and handed back the paper to you.

“Are you only saying this because you’re gonna get discounted at the shop I work at?”

You shook your head rapidly, not amused by his assumptions.

“No, I’ve just always wanted them,” you said seriously. “I was always too scared with the needle but since I’ve got nothing to lose, I thought why not?”

Jungkook poked you with his index finger in the area between your eyebrows.

“You need to stop talking like that [Y/N],” he said seriously. “I hate when you get all negative.”

You smiled sadly at him.

“Give me the tattoos and I’ll stop talking,” you teased, but your words lacked genuine feeling.

Jungkook heaved out a sigh.

“Fine, but don’t come crying to me if you regret it,” he said, turning his back to you so he could make a call to his boss. Turns out he actually would be working that day.

—

The feeling of Jungkook’s needle on your skin didn’t hurt as much as you nearly thought it would, the pain only coming in dull waves.

After throwing up flowers consistently for the past few months, nothing could quite match up to the pain of thorns poking at your throat at random times of the day. To you, this was child’s play.

“You’re taking this pretty well for a beginner,” Jungkook complimented, still focusing on the light curves of the forget-me-nots he was etching onto your skin. A whole array of flowers would be drawn on your arm eventually.

“I’m good with my emotions unlike some people,” you said, clearly referencing how agitated Jungkook had been recently. He seemed to lash out every little thing and even made snide comments when he thought no one was listening. Jungkook was definitely taking your situation harder than you were at this point.

He only smiled at your words, not making any big movements as to not disrupt his work.

“I’m just shocked you’d want the stuff that’s gonna kill you to be on your body forever,” he replied back. Although he spoke too morbidly, he made a fair point.

“Well, the flowers mean more to me than just that,” you started, slightly wincing as Jungkook’s needled started drawing on a new patch of skin.

Jungkook noticed your discomfort and tried to ease your mind.

“Tell me about that,” he asked, hoping you didn’t feel even more uncomfortable with the question. He anticipated your reply as you coughed awkwardly.

“I’m actually doing this for my mom,” you said softly, avoiding eye contact with him. “She had Hanahaki too and it didn’t turn out well.”

He took a step back to get a good look at your sleeve. He had been working at this tattoo for two hours now and he only seemed to finish just one small section. ‘This would take several sessions of hard work,’ he thought to himself.

“You never talk about your mom,” he pointed out, lightly dabbing the bleeding parts of your skin to avoid infection on your skin.

“My mom got the surgery,” you said slowly, suddenly feeling a sting as the needle hit your skin again. “She found out my dad cheated on her after throwing up flowers for a couple of nights.”

He stopped his movements for a bit, shocked with your revelation. He knew you were hiding something, but he never expected it to be this big. He looked up at you and regretted seeing your sad expression so up close. It seemed you were about ready to cry.

“It literally broke her,” you continued. “She didn’t find joy in anything anymore. Like, she was a completely different person.”

Jungkook stopped his wrists from moving and pulled back a bit. He didn’t know how to comfort you. It was always Taehyug’s forte when it came to emotional stuff. What was he even supposed to say?

“Did you tell her?” Jungkook gulped, his words were shaky. “About not wanting the surgery.”

It was then that you started to break down and it wasn’t from the pain of getting a tattoo. It was the look of complete and utter worry from Jungkook that set you off into a fit of tears.

“Who is there to tell, Jungkook?” you whispered through the tears. “She’s dead.”

He looked at you in shock, not really registering your words. Obviously, your mother hadn’t died from Hanahaki, she already got the surgery. The reason, he knew, must’ve been much more sinister. He didn’t quite know how to approach you as you hiccuped through your tears. He patted your back in reassurance and repeated time and time again that it was okay, that Taehyung and him would be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” you mumbled. “I’m a shitty friend.”

He shook his head and was about to reply when an unwelcomed guest came bursting through the tattoo parlor doors.

“Jungkooooook,” you heard a yodel, belonging only to a voice you two could recognize perfectly.

Taehyung.

You made swift movements to wipe away the tears from your face and Jungkook pretended as if he was in deep focus on drawing something on your skin. Taehyung entered Jungkook’s station, unassuming and bright as ever. He held a plastic bag with takeout boxes in his hand, presumably food.

“[Y/N]? You’re here too?” he asked in confusion, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Getting a tattoo?”

You nodded hesitantly and he gave an even more worrisome look.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” he asked slowly, trying to decipher what was really happening.

Jungkook coughed awkwardly.

“I think I’m gonna check out the other clients for a second,” he said, standing up and setting down his tools. “I’ll be right back, [Y/N].”

You looked at Jungkook pleadingly to stay, but he shook his head. He did not want to get involved in whatever discussion was about to go. You sighed and brushed the strands of your hair that was getting on your face. You just hoped your red eyes from crying went unnoticed.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were getting a tattoo?” he asked sadly, sitting on the stool Jungkook once occupied. “Is this what you meant when you said you were ‘catching up on things’?”

You pursed your lips, not quite knowing how to respond.

“It was a personal thing,” you whispered, massaging the back of your neck. You felt the flowers in your stomach once again.

“What, so you told Jungkook and not me?” Taehyung pouted, setting the food he brought on a nearby table. “I texted him if he was at work and he said yeah. I usually surprise him with Thai food. I didn’t think you were gonna be here too so I only bought enough for two.”

You smiled at him. Taehyung was still as considerate as ever.

He took a look at your tattoo, slightly confused with the realistic flower patterns. His fingers ghosted over them as if to make sure they were real.

“Why flowers?” he asked. He never thought of you as a flora type person. He’s probably never seen you hold a flower in his life.

“None of your business,” you scoffed trying to face away from him. You didn’t want him to see your flustered expression and the puffiness of your under-eyes. He pouted at your words and lack of eye contact.

“You’ve been so distant from me lately, [Y/N],” he said in a cutesy voice. “I feel like Jungkook and you have been hanging out with each other more than with me. I’m starting to feel really left out.”

You chuckled. You weren’t mad at him for barging in during your tattoo session, but you were frustrated with his naivety. There you were getting the most feared items on the world tattooed on your skin and he questioned very little of it? How dense was he really?

“We can hang out some other time, alright Tae?” you said, ruffling his hair lightly. “I just want this first session done and over with.”

He grinned up at you and squeezed your hand that was on his head.

“Then let me stay here to be your emotional support,” he teased, taking your hand into his. You nodded with a smile, but an uncomfortable feeling had erupted in your stomach.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” you asked urgently, pain laced in your voice. He nodded worriedly as he watched you rush off into the restroom. ‘You were having a lot of stomachaches lately,’ he thought to himself.

You covered your mouth with your palm as soon as you were out of Taehyung’s sight, making sure not to throw up anything on the tattoo parlor floor. Jungkook saw you escaping from his station and followed you into the unisex bathroom. He rushed over to you as you threw up into the toilet bowl, some excess flower petals hitting the floor instead. Tears welled up in your eyes as the flowers kept coming in several colors, all different sizes. They were all tulips, stained in blood and mucus, a truly disgusting sight to behold.

Jungkook patted your back gently and tried to ease you through the pain. Your mouth ached as the last petal left your lips and you desperately grabbed onto Jungkook’s thigh as you coughed out blood. Your lips were horribly stained with a deep rouge.

“Water, please,” you pleaded with your strained voice in between coughing fits.

Jungkook got you the water and while you tried to act like nothing happened when you came back to Taehyung who was playing Candy Crush on his phone, he couldn’t help but notice how raspy your voice had gotten since just a few moments earlier and how tired your eyes looked when you stared at him.

“Are you sure you wanna keep on going?” Jungkook whispered to you. “We can have another session tomorrow. I think it’s probably best you go home.”

You shook your head.

“I just want to be with him a bit more,” you said softly, glad that the boy of your affection was so deeply engrossed in his mobile game. “I didn’t lose that much blood.

Taehyung, at the corner of his eye, couldn’t help but see a small pink petal on your shoe with tinges of red splattered on it. He saw the way Jungkook would ask you every 30 seconds if you were feeling okay when he was never the type to talk while he tattoed.

He wondered if it was any of his business to ask.

—

Throughout the next two weeks, Jungkook had finished the various tattoos you wanted through grueling sessions with Taehyung bothering the two of you in the sidelines. Within those weeks, your health had massively deteriorated as well. The number of flowers you threw up increased by the day and the amount of blood that showed up was worrisome, to say the least. You knew your time was coming up, so it was only fair that you were to complete something you desired most before your eventual demise.

Go on a proper date with Taehyung.

Not like the one-on-one hangouts you had with him where you’d throw on whatever. No, you wanted to get dolled up and pretty this time, so you asked him if he wanted to go watch a movie with you and eat dinner after. You knew it wouldn’t change how Taehyung felt about you since he wouldn’t even consider your invitation as a date, but you still wanted to look your best regardless.

You got ready hours before he intended to come over to pick you up. You lathered on several layers of lipstick, not really knowing what you were expecting to happen anyways. When you finally made your way outside, you were satisfied the starstruck look in Taehyung’s eyes

“Wow you dressed up today,” he chided as he saw you exit your dormitory. “You have someone to impress or what?”

He winked at you and you only scoffed in response. It was obvious that he was staring intently at the new tattoos you had embedded into your skin. It was nice seeing him look at you in a way that you weren’t used to... like he actually found you attractive.

“Please, I look good for myself,” you said confidently. “Can’t say the same for you considering you wore that shirt yesterday.”

He clicked his tongue in your direction.

“Whatever, whatever,” he said, waving his hand in front of him. “I get to have you all to myself today. No Jungkook in sight. I could rub this in his face later.”

You laughed at his silliness. If you wanted to delude yourself, you’d have thought Taehyung was jealous. He was so cute, with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked at you with a flushed face. You only had to tolerate the fluttering feeling in your stomach for a few hours or so, how bad could it be? You just needed to endure it until Tehyung left and you were free to throw up all the petals you needed to.

“Let’s go to the movies?” you offered and he smiled, agreeing with your suggestion.

It was nice like this, walking by his side without a care in the world. It made you sad to think that this too would be taken away from you. That you’ll never get to hear him babble about dates gone awry or see how his smile would get wider when he saw his favorite food again. It would all be taken away from you eventually, one way or another. You clenched your fist, attempting to focus on his voice rather than the nausea that had overtaken your body.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you had to love him all alone.

“I don’t think I get to tell you enough how much I appreciate you,” Taehyung said, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. “You always look out for me even when you look like you aren’t.”

You smiled at his compliment.

“There’s no need for that,” you replied. “What kind of friend would I be if I just watched you suffer alone?”

You tried to swallow down the hypocrisy that came with your own words. He had no idea that you were lying through your teeth right then and there. You tensed at the sound of Taehyung chuckling at your comment.

“That’s what friends are for after all,” he said in agreement.

It happened almost suddenly. The first cough and then a second and then you couldn’t stop your knees from hitting the concrete of the city sidewalk.

“[Y/N],” Taehyung shouted, kneeling next to you on the crowded street. His voice was distorted among all the other sounds you were hearing. There were bells, whistles, the sound of an incoming storm. You started hyperventilating.

‘Not here, not here. Anywhere else but here,’ you screamed to yourself in your head.

You clenched your stomach and tried to hold back the impending contents that were soon to escape your lips. You shook your head as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes. You didn’t want Taehyung to see you like this.

“[Y/N], tell me what's wrong,” Taehyung pleaded. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

You couldn’t help as the tears rolled down your face as the first petal left. And then another. By then, a crowd had formed around you two and someone was in the process of calling an ambulance. You couldn’t stop the bloody white roses that escaped your lips, slashing the inside of your throat as more of them came. All parts of your body ached, but your heart hurt the most. Taehyung’s face was in such distress and you were the reason for it.

You were the reason for his pain just as he was the reason for yours.

The last thing you heard before collapsing in his arms was Taehyung screaming your name, the blood mixed with lipstick on your mouth staining his shirt. He called for help and eventually, they did come. They came but it felt like he had already failed you somehow. Like he could’ve done more to protect you.

As the EMTs hauled you off into the ambulance truck, he took one last glance at the pile of flowers that stained the concrete.

It looked too similar to the flowers drawn near your shoulder.

—

Taehyung sat near your hospital bed, clenching his hands together and shutting his eyes to even out his breathing. ‘I’m a dumbass for not realizing earlier,’ he thought to himself.

The nurses had filled him in about your condition just a few moments earlier. He found out that you were six months into being diagnosed with Hanahaki and that you had no intention of getting surgery. It hurt his heart to think that you were suffering all alone, carrying the burden of a terminal illness all by yourself. He hated to think that the person you loved had no idea you were in such pain. Taehyung found himself hating the person you longed for, even if he didn’t know who that was.

He took a glance at your resting features.

You looked so pale in the dim hospital lights and the sound of your heart monitor made him apprehensive. You had Hanahaki and you never bothered to tell him? Was this another one of your secrets you were hiding from him lately? He sighed, burying his face into his palms.

"You don’t deserve this [Y/N],” he said solemnly, brushing away some strands of hair from your face. “Anyone would be lucky to have you be in love with them. That person doesn’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Taehyung went through a list of people in his head who could’ve been your possible unrequited love. It couldn’t be Namjoon, the guy that was helping you out all the time at the bookstore. You two barely talked. It wasn't Seokjin from lecture hall either, you said he wasn't your type. Was it Hoseok from the same department? Perhaps was it-?

He webbed his fingers through his hair out of frustration. Who could it possibly be?

Taehyung was disturbed from his thoughts from a slight knocking sound that continued on for a few seconds.

"Come in," he replied back cautiously.

To Taehyung’s surprise, Jungkook opened the door, a bouquet flowers in his hand as he walked through. Taehyung's body tensed at the sight of him. He had put two in two together and now he clenched his fists together, tightening his jaw.

It was him. It had to be him.

"I would've come earlier, but I wanted to get these for her when she wakes up," Jungkook said solemnly and set the flowers down near the hospital nightstand. "How's [Y/N] holding up?"

Taehyung stood up from the seat next to your bed, cracking his neck to the side to release some tension. He came close to Jungkook, glaring at him in a threatening stance. Taehyung grabbed at his collar.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing bring flowers to a patient with Hanahaki?"

Taehyung's voice didn't sound quite like he usually did. There was a growl akin to anger in the way he spoke. Jungkook pushed him off of him, confused as to why Taehyung was picking a fight with you when you were sleeping just a few meters away.

"It's just a nice gesture," Jungkook seethed. "Why are you being so fucking hostile when you didn't even know she had Hanahaki in the first place?"

Taehyung scoffed, shoving Jungkook by the chest.

"You knew?" he squinted his eyes at Jungkook. "You fucking knew and you didn't do anything about it?"

Jungkook took a look at your sleeping form. He was glad you weren't awake to be hearing this because he was ready to do something he'd regret. He didn’t mind getting kicked out of the hospital if it meant putting Taehyung in his place.

"Why should I do anything, huh?" Jungkook sighed. "I’ve been begging her to get the damn surgery. She won't fucking listen to me!"

Taehyung punched him right then. His wrists were bound to bruise by the impact of it all and Jungkook just stared at him in shock, clutching his cheek.

"It's your fault that she's dying," Taehyung started, tears welling up in his eyes. "You should have fucking tried harder to convince her. You could’ve stopped this."

Jungkook charged at him and pushed Taehyung against the wall. It was a miracle you hadn’t woken up from all the noise they were making. There was bound to be complaints from neighboring rooms for the ruckus the two boys were causing.

"Me?" Jungkook gritted his teeth, taking a good hard look at Taehyung. "You’re saying I'm the reason?"

Taehyung scoffed at his face and pushed him off.

"Who else then? Who else is fucking killing [Y/N]?!" Taehyung cried, his voice echoing in the hospital room.

Jungkook took a step back from him until he soon brought his fist back to hit Taehyung square in the jaw. He fell onto the floor and cringed at the pain.

“I know it’s not my business to say anything,” he mumbled, but loud enough for Taehyung to hear him. “And that it’s between [Y/N] and you but I’m really fucking sick and tired of seeing her break down over someone as incompetent and stupid as-”

“Can you just spit it out already, you piece of shit-”

Jungkook threw another punch at Taehyung when he made his way to stand. He had collapsed on the floor again, trying to readjust his jaw. Jungkook’s hand was bleeding at that point, but he didn’t care one bit. Taehyung deserved everything that was coming to him.

“It’s you,” Jungkook seethed. “You’re the reason why she’s fucking dying!”

Taehyung stared up at him in a state of shock as your body had started to wake up into consciousness. The two boys stared at each other, dripping in anger.

“What did you say?”

—

A/N: Another Taehyung fic up my sleeve! Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger like that :P The second part will be a lot more intense. Special thanks to @guksflavor for commissioning this and also buying 2 coffees for me, I really appreciate it. It was a whole lot of fun writing this first part and I hope you guys enjoyed it. It’s my first time writing about Hanahaki Disease, so I wanted my interpretation to be slightly unique. I’m so glad I got a request like this from the get-go, since I love these kind of angsty stories. If y’all want to commission for stories or simply donate, my Kofi is linked on my blog. If not, that’s totally fine, I’m thankful for your support either way.

PS. Trash part two comes out at the end of this week, please anticipate it a lot!

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valdemart · 4 years

Text

A New Experiment (NSFW ValdemarxReader)

I made a nasty Valdemar fic because I’m 🎵Human Garbage🎵

It’s Valdemar so warnings for medical kink, mentions of gore (I don’t think its that intense), dead bodies, some swearing, and everything else that goes with everybody’s favorite Quaestor.

((I know hysterical paroxysm probably wasn’t actually a treatment or whatever, and time line wise it doesn’t really fit, but for the sake of this story I do not give a fuck. Do I want to romance the horrible demon doctor? Yes? Am I foolish enough to think it’s possible? Absolutely not. This is as good as it gets, fuckos, not being murdered maybe.))

To make it an entire year as a student doctor under Doctor Valdemar was previously unheard of. If the student didn’t vanish mysteriously never to be heard from again, they fled to another country and refused to talk about it. You, however, had done it and it hadn’t even been hard. As head doctor of the palace, Valdemar had no time for anything not related to science. All you had to do was focus on work while you were working and do everything they said immediately and correctly.

You had even managed to get a few compliments from them. They were not the type to hand out praise, but you had gotten ‘adequate work’ several times and even one ‘well done’.

There were a few ‘eccentricities’ to deal with, but what genius wasn’t a little bizarre? Another year or so working under them and no doubt you’d leave to become a brilliant surgeon.

After an entire year of hard work and dedication, you wouldn’t have thought that you’d undo it all with one little mistake, but isn’t that always how it happened?

The city morgue had apparently gotten a new delivery man; specifically, a tall, brown eyed delivery man with a roguishly handsome smile. You hadn’t had a lot of time for dating while attending medical school and, well, you were only human. You had to flirt with him a little bit. Despite him hauling around unclaimed corpses, he was in the mood to flirt a little too. Doctor Valdemar was engrossed in a project so you made small talk with the man while you counted the bodies and signed his delivery ledger. He told an unfunny joke and you giggled. It was harmless and didn’t interrupt your work at all. As soon as he left, you were back to work, categorizing the corpses based on possible causes of death to be examined further.

But, later, white cleaning various beakers and test tubes, your mind began to wander. You couldn’t help the big, stupid grin plastered to your face as you thought of the delivery man. He’d be by next week and maybe by then you would have the nerve to ask him to dinner. Or maybe he would ask you, wouldn’t that be something.

Valdemar called your name loudly and impatiently and you jumped. Had they said your name already without you hearing it? They did not like having to repeat themselves. In jumping, you had managed to knock two test tubes off the table. They broke with two quiet ‘tinks’ against the floor. You stared at them wide eyed for a moment before looking up. Doctor Valdemar was less than a foot away from you and frowning.

Shit…

You hadn’t ever broken anything before. The last person to break something had been an assistant and Doctor Valdemar had stepped on their hand while they were picking up the shards, driving the glass into their skin. That had made you conscientious about maintaining a firm grip on everything in the dungeon.

After a horrible, silent moment of staring, Valdemar smiled.

“Distracted today, are we? It wouldn’t have anything to do with that handsome man that was here earlier, would it?”

They weren’t yelling, but they often didn’t so there was no telling how mad Valdemar was right now.

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Valdemar. I’ll clean it up and get right back to work.”

“Leave it for now.”

This kind of thing didn’t happen to you. You were a professional, dammit. You had never gotten in trouble before and now Valdemar was going to make you eat those broken test tubes.

Valdemar turned to the only two other staff currently on and waved their hand at them.

“Leave us.”

They exchanged glances with one another and then shot you two helpless, sympathetic looks before climbing the stairs to the palace.

“Come join me at my desk for a moment, wont you?”

Your feet felt like lead as you dragged yourself to the desk in the middle of the dungeon. Valdemar sat down, but you waited for them to nod at you before you dared to take a seat. There was another endless moment of silence as they watched you over their steepled fingers.

“Was I right? We’re you thinking of that delivery boy?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Of all the stupid things to get in trouble for.

“Seems even the good little humans lose their heads in the spring.”

This would be funny if it wasn’t so terrifying.

“Mating season and all.”

Maybe you’ll be the first student to be forgiven?

“When was the last time you had sex?”

Valdemar didn’t waste time mincing words. A forthright question like this was embarrassing but not uncommon.

“Oh, um, two years ago I believe, Doctor.”

“Hmm, I see. Do you masturbate often?”

Despite your fear, you couldn’t help your blush at that question.

“Um, not very, I don’t think, Doctor.”

“Quantify it.”

“Um, once or twice a month.”

“I see.”

This next span of silence really does go on forever. It’s almost as though Valdemar has no intention of speaking. Their unblinking gaze is too much to bear and you speak first.

“I’m so sorry, Doctor. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

“How?”

“P-Pardon?”

“How are you going to keep it from happening again?”

Well, you hadn’t expected that question. Usually, when you apologized to someone, they just accepted that you would do better.

“I, um, I’ll just-“

Valdemar stared at you while you stuttered, their passive face making it very clear that they could wait all day for an answer.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Doctor. I’ll do better. I won’t get distracted anymore.”

“And how can you guarantee that? The human drive to mate is so primal. It’s so deeply embedded in your brain that it will almost certainly always win over logic. I don’t blame you for what you are, but I don’t trust you to be able to resolve it on your own. After all, you aren’t even a doctor yet, are you?”

Well, at least they weren’t angry. You weren’t sure what they had planned, but it wouldn’t be like that time they broke another assistant’s arm for preparing the wrong slice of a cadaver’s brain.

“I’ll do whatever you think I need to do, Doctor.”

They rose suddenly and silently, making you flinch slightly.

“I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s refreshing for someone to take responsibility instead of blubbering excuses. Although, I would expect nothing less from you.”

You watched Valdemar walk over to one of the metal exam tables and reach underneath to pull out the gynecological stirrups. A feeling of dread washed over you, but all you could think was how well you had oiled the stirrups, as they no longer squeaked when they were moved.

“It will be a simple treatment. Not invasive at all and so little blood,” Valdemar explained, steepling their fingers together again. “Now, please undress from the waist down and lie on the table.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. What the hell was Valdemar planning on doing to you? Cut you? Sew you up? Because you were distracted one time?! No! Please no! This couldn’t be happening! Not this!

“D-Doctor Valdemar, please, whatever you’re planning… I’m sorry! I’ll work twice as long just-“

You could try to run, but how far would you get? Valdemar was almost supernaturally graceful and quick and if they caught you, there would be Hell to pay.

Valdemar frowned but didn’t otherwise move. They were studying your face as though they were trying to read your thoughts and figure out why you weren’t obeying them.

“Are you afraid I’m going to mutilate your genitals? Really, now. Horny is one problem I can fix, but I can’t help you if you’ve gone stupid as well. If I carve you up, I lose my only capable assistant for days while you recover.”

Valdemar sounded annoyed, but there was the slightest bit of amusement in their tone. And while you desperately did not want to stall further and really anger them, the fear of the unknown medical procedure planned for you kept you frozen in place.

“Please tell me what you’re going to do.”

Your plea was raspy as you fought and failed to hold back tears, but to your great relief, Valdemar didn’t seem any more annoyed with your sniveling. It was the same impassive face they wore when a patient pleaded to save a limb from amputation. Just a minor irritation.

“Hysterical paroxysm.”

“What?!”

Then, to your great perplexity, Valdemar grinned. Not the sharped tooth grin that accompanied the arrive of more corpses for autopsy but a closed lipped grin like…they were trying to comfort you? What was happening?

“Hysteria. A most amusing theory, but further proof that the human mind is incapable of truly grasping medical science. However, in this case? This might be the cure we need. Now then,” Valdemar said, patting the exam table. “Up you go.”

What choice did you have? You could run. If that didn’t change Valdemar’s mind about cutting you up then you’d still lose your residency. You’d never be a doctor then.

And…

This was quite possibly the nicest Valdemar had ever been to anyone. They were the smartest and most capable doctor you knew. You had been chasing their approval since day one and never once had you seen them attempt any sort of bedside manner before. But now they were endeavoring it specifically for you. Squaring your trembling shoulders the best you could, you reached up and under your coat and pulled your pants and panties down with one smooth tug. You shivered as the cool air of the dungeon hit your legs and Valdemar merely watched patiently as you worked off your shoes and folded your pants.

“There’s a good girl,” Valdemar cooed as you laid down on the table. The praise had to have been meant to mock you, but as they almost gently assisted you with putting your legs in the stirrups, you weren’t sure of anything anymore. Valdemar had cracked ribs and dislocated ankles while strapping patients into restraints before. Was this really happening?

Valdemar opened a few buttons on the bottom of your lab coat and flipped each side outward, exposing you completely. The doctor never was one to waste time with a privacy blanket.

“No wonder I’m having problems with you,” they said as they ghosted a single digit down your slit, making you shiver. “Your little cunt is so engorged that there’s no blood left for your brain.”

They spoke with an almost bored air of professionalism, like they were examining a mole and not about to finger fuck you to orgasm. As horribly embarrassed as you were, prone in front of your boss like this, you risked a quick glace downwards. You only saw the crisp white dressing wrapped around the doctor’s head as they gave you a thorough visual examination, staring intently at your vulva as they softly spread and stretched you lips. You bit back a whine. How were you supposed to work for them after this? You’d never be able to look them in the eye again.

“Now then,” the doctor said, standing to their full height. “Let’s commence treatment.”

Two long, hard fingers that felt more like a medical instrument than a part of someone’s hand entered you swiftly. The cold rubber of the glove made you gasp and your nipples hardened under you clothing.

Valdemar didn’t move like you had expected them to and instead called your name. Reluctantly and with a great deal of mortification, you met their gaze while you were being penetrated. They stared at you, unblinking, their razor blade smile finally back on their face.

“Do feel free to make noise. It will help me speed the treatment along.”

Your head fell back as they began, their cool fingers almost scrapping at your walls as their thumb made a perfunctory back and forth motion against your clitoris. It was as sterile and unerotic as something like this was possibly capable of being. But, somehow, it was doing the trick. You could feel yourself heating up against the cool air. Despite your humiliation, your boss was actually going to make you cum.

Despite? Or because of?

Valdemar was deathly silent now and, even with your eyes being snapped shut, you could feel their gaze on your face with needle like focus. Their movements didn’t change in the slightest, almost like they were using a machine.

And yet…

You were beginning to squirm and twitch under their ministrations. You balled your fists against the cold metal of the exam table and let the first of several heady moans escape you lips. You were really going to cum on your weird boss’s fingers on a table you were going to have to see every day you worked.

That thought was your undoing.

As you bit back a squeal and your back arched off the table, Valdemar continued moving their fingers until your contractions stopped and you tried to pull away from them. Then their touch was gone completely. You allowed yourself a moment to catch your breath. Despite the horribly bizarre nature of it all, it had been a good orgasm. However, the light, warm feeling fled you faster than it usually did. Most likely it was from the stirrups and exam table and lack of a soft, warm bed or the loving caress of a partner. Your high extinguished, you wanted nothing more than to get dressed, but you didn’t have the doctor’s permission. You propped yourself up enough to see Valdemar, who was now standing a few feet to your right next to a torch. Holding their fingers up to the light, they were scissoring their two fingers back and forth, studying your cervical mucus as it stretched. A hot wave of embarrassment sent you back down.

“D-Doctor? May I get dressed now?”

You looked when they didn’t answer right away and you watched with shame as they scraped your discharge off their fingers and into a vial.

“Yes. The treatment is over now.”

Your legs cramped slightly as you removed them and stood up and your toes tingled as blood finally reached them again. That discomfort was nothing compared to the aching empty that had suddenly taken over your chest. No, you hadn’t exactly had a long-term partner before and your lovers were few and far between since most people didn’t understand the long hours of a medical student, but you hadn’t been into casual encounters either. There had been cuddling and pillow talk with them and now, as you pulled your pants up in silence, you felt ashamed and used. Obviously, Valdemar wasn’t interested in romantic entanglements, that much you’d bet any amount of money on, but had this just been some weird power trip? Or an experiment? You were grateful it hadn’t involved the removal of any of your organs like most of the doctor’s experiments, but it did nothing to stop the sob that rose in your throat.

You froze. There was no way Valdemar hadn’t heard you. They had been incredibly accommodating with you this entire time, but no doubt your crying would anger them finally. Your luck had to run out eventually. You didn’t look up as they moved towards you, their heels clicking on the stone floor.

“I’m sorr-“

Your apology was cute off when their hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at them. Their grip wasn’t painful, but the indifference in their eyes as they studied your face knocked the wind out of you like a fist.

“I’m so sorr-“

“Oxytocin.”

“What?”

“Oxytocin. Dreadful little chemical. But it’s always so fascinating how humans are such slaves to their hormones. In the end, what are humans but machines powered by chemicals and electrical currents?”

You shivered at their voice. That odd, detached way they spoke about humans as though they themselves were not one was also so unsettling, even if you were usually able to ignore it.

What happened next, however, was the weirdest thing to happen in all your time working under the doctor. Stiffly, and with no affection, Valdemar leaned forward and pressed their lips to your forehead. They did not pucker and they made no effort to actually kiss you, but their thin, cool lips against you was probably the closest they had ever gotten to it. It was the equivalent of pressing a lizard’s face against you for a few seconds, but it stopped your tears immediately.

“That will be sufficient comfort for you, I hope?”

“Yes, Doctor,” you replied, your voice soft with incredulousness. There was no way that had actually happened. All of this was some incredibly messed up dream. Clearly, you had been working too hard and were stressed.

“Good. Now, take your lunch hour and collect yourself. Be back here on time and set up the diaphanization chemicals. Don’t make me wait.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Unsure of how to carry yourself, you half bowed, half curtsied before turning to ascend the stairs. Hopefully an hour would be enough time to process the last ten or so minutes. It probably wouldn’t be, but at least you were being given any time at all.

Before your foot had even hit the first step, you felt those long, thin fingers wrap tightly around your hips. You froze and your breath hitched in your throat.

“One last thing before you go,” Valdemar said softly, their breath tickling your ear as they spoke. “Do be sure to let me know if you start feeling distracted again. I need to take care of my favorite subject.”

#the arcana valdemar #valdemar #quaestor valdemar #the arcana lemon

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird “Drugged”

You will all have to forgive me for not posting the last few days. I went on vacation with family then had a couple tests and then ended up in the ER, so busy week, but i cooked something up for you all. Forgive me if it has issues, see above paragraph or my excuse :)

It is not specifically a human phenomenon, the use of chemicals, to help and support the body. It is, however, a much more complicated field of study for humans. Most species react the same exact way to a drug that any other member of their species would. Many of our species have found specific drugs that cause only minor physiological side effects despite their potency. The system of the non-human body has multiple unrelated systems that are unaffected by one specific drug or another

Humanity on the other hand, is a different story.

The cocktail of chemicals in the human brain integrate into a system that provides the body with a perfect storm of reactions. While most aliens only experience the physiological side effects related to the action of the drug upon an injury , say a numbing sensation or the reduced motility of digestion, humans are some of the only known species to experience extreme psychological effects due to drugs.

In many cases humans will present with wildly different reactions to the same drug as presented in this paper. Though, I find that the most interesting drug reaction, in humans to be those that take place in the brain, specifically the ones causing, or related to sedation, weather that sedation b mild or complete.

…. Let's be honest though, I mostly just find it entertaining.

***

The board of surgical experts was getting ready to convene their conference about human anatomy when it happened. The Summit was taking place on the rundi homeworld courtesy of the GA council. Humanity had proven to be the most difficult species to treat, not simply for their staggering ability to stay alive, but for the numerous drug actions and reactions that could take place in the body.. Rill had been planning to do a lecture during the session, but as per usual, he was cut off by the humans.

The council doors thundered open and one of the marines ran into the room causing quite a stir. Those clinicians who had never before seen a human gasped in shock and awe at the creature’s powerful speed and grace. He came skidding to a stop at the center of the room, barely winded head turning, dark eyes frantically searching the room and zeroing in on Krill, who stood at the front of the auditorium.

“Kill, Krill, something happened. We need your help like, right now..”

If krill had had the capability to roll his eyes, he would have. Taking care of humans was a disaster sometimes. The rest of the auditorium took to their feet in curiosity and, fear, in some cases.

“What happened now?” he wondered

The marine rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly, “Well uh, we were just messing around.”

“Save me the story and get to the point.”

The marine’s shoulder;s slumped, “The commander dislocated his shoulder.”

The room muttered in some confusion.

Krill sighed, “Of course he did because who else would it be.” He turned back to look at the other assembled medical professionals, “Well come now, class. It seems that today has favored us with a perfect teaching opportunity.”

Hesitantly the rest of the medical professionals followed watching the human prowl along before them with some trepidation.

They found the human sitting outside on the steps of the GA headquarters cradling his arm in one hand as two others attempted to help him support the it, “Shit, shit shit, this hurts.” The man moaned piteously. One of the assistants shifted as he saw the group of doctors coming, but quickly returned to position as the human yelped in pain, “Shit, not like that…... “ Many of the medical professionals had never heard a human distress call before. It was a surprising amalgamation of moaning, hissing and the occasional yip, not to mention the strangely random words, that later had to be explained as profanities.

Krill took charge immediately moving up around the side of the human and dropping down to examine the injured limb.

“Morning doc.” The human said voice unusually slow.

Krill thumped him lightly over the back of the head, “always, always you. Every single time I am busy your body decides to malfunction.” The human mewed pitifully.

A hand raised, “is hitting them in the head part of the treatment.”

Krill sighed, “Only for this one.” He moved over to the side of the human pulling up the strange fibrous covering to reveal the horrible disfigurement below. The medical professionals gasped and muttered in surprise. The skin about the upper limb was bowed upwards unnaturally the arm held awkwardly out before him. What horrible accident could have caused an injury like that…. Well they couldn’t have said. It would be a horrible issue to have for the rest of his life.

Krill prodded around the skin, “Can you feel this.”

The human nodded. Despite what must have been excruciating pain the human had now become very quiet. Its single, wide green eye, the other one was covered by some sort of strange patch, was glassy and distant. When he was asked a question, his answers were clear and concise but very slow.

“alright , the group of you pick him up and bring him inside, try to keep that arm still.” They watched in surprise as a team of humans coordinated themselves to pick up their fellow, grabbing him about the uninjured arm and legs. Awkwardly they shuffled him inside to where Krill ushered them, slowly placing him onto the demonstrative medical equipment that had turned into an impromptu hospital. The other aliens gathered about.

The human refused to lay back hissing in pain when the arm was jostled into the wrong direction.

Krill turned to look at his audience. “What I will demonstrate next is a simple procedure.” At his words the crowd looked rather skeptical muttering and chatting to themselves, “The bone has been pulled from the socket and needs to be reset as soon as possible. It will be a simple push inwards to correct the damage. However, The muscles about the injury may tighten making it difficult and painful for the patient while awake, so we will induce unconsciousness and give analgesic medications for the pain.” He ordered a few of his people around as the human cradled his arm staring off into space with a blank expression. He continued to be responsive and answer questions though he was even slower than normal.

With some instruction from the doctor, the other professionals brought forward the correct medication.

Krill huffed when he saw the label on the bottle.

“Something wrong doctor?”

“No,” Sigh, “He’s just a handful coming out of this one…. Is this all we have.”

“I am afraid so.”

“Well I suppose we are all in for a treat then.” he responded. Adjusting a clear tube about the human’s face running under the protruding sensory organ. Another was being instructed on the placement of an IV into the vein of the hand seeing as the human would not unfurl himself to allow access to the inner arm.

Once that was done, the drug was administered. The human’s eye closed, and he went limp falling backward, lowered slowly by a few other humans, seemingly unaware of the pain that he must have been in, “Now it is important to keep a human speaking after the initial trauma even if you may have to ask the same questions multiple times. Now intense pain and shock can sometimes have similar symptoms, but as long as the human is responsive everything is alright and you don’t have to worry about shock. I wouldn't consider a dislocation something that will cause shock in most cases.”

He moved forward, “Now we are going to do what is called a closed reduction, and simply pop the tip of the bone back into place. I will position my hands here and here, and-” Those with especially good ears heard he grinding pop as the bone slid back into place, the convex surface of skin that had been displaced before falling back into its original position.

They grimaced. It looked horrific.

Krill demonstrated the administration of pain medication and gave a time estimate of when the human would likely to wake up.

“Be warned, these medications tend to have a very severe effect on the cognitive function of a human, you can expect to see mood changes, confusion, slurred or slowed speech, inattentiveness, difficulty focusing, and in this one’s case the need for hand restraints.”

The room muttered.

“You will see why.”

***

Krill had not been lying. The human woke slowly foggy green eye out of focus on glassy. His hands pawed at the blankets below him wandering over the bed until he found the tue to the IV. Krill was forced to pul it away.

“Commander… Commander, how are you feeling.”

The human’s head lolled to the side flopping limply to one side, “Where am I” His speech was slurred just as predicted.’ He grabbed at the Iv tube again, and Krill was forced to pull it away, “No, keep still ok.”

“Okayyyyy.” The human responded groggily.

He seemed pretty happy for someone who should have been in tons of pain.

“How are you feeling?” Krill repeated.

The human didn’t answer head turning this way and that eye wide with curiosity. He looked at his arm, “Oh….. my arm is ok…. That’s gooooood.”

“Commander, try to focus.”

The human did not focus.

Instead he reached a hand out to prod at the little nodes attached to his chest. He began peeling one away. They were forced to take his hand.

“Commander.”

“Yeeee?”

“Can you answer my questions?”

The human nodded widely grinning,, but then seemed to completely forget what he had been asked reaching a hand out to touch one of the machines before being intercepted, “Hey, hey, hey.”

“Yes commander.”

“Wait…. I i forgot… I’m not making any sense…. Am I making any sense.” He glanced towards his arm, “oh my arm is back in place…. That’s good.”

“Yes .” Krill said reassuringly

In the next moment a Drev stepped into the room. She was small for her species, but with a striking electric blue carapace. She walked over, “Why do you insist on getting hurt when I’m not here.”

The human didn’t answer staring at her with a wide green eye. She paused by the bed, and he continued his scrutiny reaching out a hand to stroke the armor of her forearm, “Pretty…. Blue is my favorite color. My best friend is blue too.”

“Adam, I’m right here.”

The human looked up, “Oh ... hi, I didn’t see you there. I saw someone who was just the same color as you, “Pretty…..”

“That was me, Adam.”

“Ohhhhh….. Wait…. That was you.”

“Yes, Adam, that was me.” She didn’t seem perturbed by answering his questions instead taking his hands gently in two of her four and immobilizing them as Krill attempted to slip a sling over one arm.

The human whimpered.

“You’re ok.” the Drev said, “I just need you to hold still.

The human mad a few more distressed noises before becoming distracted by something else, “Sunny, Sunny.”

“Yes Adam.”

“My shoulder is back in…. That’s good.”

The Drev seemed amused, “Yes, that’s very good.”

And then the human started to cry. It was very strange, they had neer seen that before. In fact they didn't think it was physically possible to move so quickly between emotional states. Apparently humans leak from the face when they are upset. A few of the physicians postulated that this may have been an evolved way to gain social attention from other humans. It seemed to work even on nonhumans and the Drev let him hug her arm.

“What’s wrong, Adam.”

The human shook his head, “I-dont know.” That seemed to upset him even more until something else caught his attention and he was back to being as pleased as he had been originally. The drug was everything and more than Krill had said it would be. The large Drev had to keep the human’s hands immobilized, and even then he still managed to cause trouble. It was a wonder that humans managed to do anything in their daily lives if the inside of their heads were like this. Their attentional ability normally must have been herculean to focus this dumpster fire.

It was extremely interesting to watch the human slowly recover himself. At some point he finally began to understand that he wasn’t acting normal despite still acting abnormal. After that came the ability to pay attention and converse normally. Even then he was still doing things that only made sense in a roundabout way.

His voice was no longer slurred, but slow. He seemed almost groggy, but not quite. His previous emotional state had evened out.

“Feel like I got hit by a train.” he groaned. One eye flicked about the audience, “Shit, I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”

Krill let of a deep sigh, “sometimes I wonder if it is your mission in life to interrupt everything I do,” He raised a hand to cut off the human’s apology, “And AS USUAL you somehow still managed to be helpful.”

And that is why the new transuniversal internet currency is not videos of cats, but humans waking up from surgery because, let's be honest, humans on drugs are kind of funny

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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fanghuas · 5 years

Text

Jason Todd Birthday Week, Day 2 - Robin

Jason scowled as he ran ahead, leaving Nightwing behind and leaping across to the next roof, landing into a roll. The jump was cutting it close – half a foot more and he wouldn’t have made it. It left him a little shaken, but he immediately took off running again and at least tried not to show it.

He went on like that for another minute or so, until suddenly he realized he couldn’t hear Nightwing’s footsteps echoing behind him anymore. He stopped, more annoyed than alarmed, wondering where he could have gone and why he didn’t tell Jason anything.

“Nightwing,” he murmured into his com, “where the hell are you?”

No response. Jason tried again.

“Nightwing. Nightwing, do you copy? Nightwing!”

Jason paced up and down the roof, feeling like an absolute moron with the way he was muttering to himself. What even was the procedure for this kind of thing? Bruce, for all his faults, had never gone AWOL on him before. Trust Nightwing to be a total dick about this, as he was about everything else.

“C’mon, ‘wing, ‘s not fuckin’ funny,” he whispered.

He whirled around, meaning to get to a higher point to try and locate Nightwing from there, but his search came to an abrupt end. As he turned, he came face to face with Nightwing, stoic and silent.

“Fuck!” he hissed, taking a step back in surprise. “What the hell, dipshit, don’t just stand there like a fucking horror movie creep, where were you?”

“Nearby,” Nightwing said, curt enough to pass as Batman. “Do you know how long it took you to notice I wasn’t behind you anymore? Two blocks.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t think I had to be on the lookout for you doing something as stupid as that, funny thing!” Jason protested, voice rising. “What was that about? A test or something? Give me a break. You’re not Batman.”

“And you’re –“ Nightwing took a deep breath, shaking his head. “That was what could happen if you keep trying to get as far away from your partner as possible. I could actually lose you, or in trying to keep up we could end up missing something important. What were you trying to prove to me? That you can run real fast? Congratulations.”

“Fuck you,” Jason spat out. “How fucking hard would it be to call out, ‘hey, Robin, slow down’, instead of pulling this pseudo-didactic BS?”

“It was a demonstration,” Nightwing said. “And sorry, but I very much doubt you would have listened to anything I had to say. You think you already know everything.”

“Try me!” Jason yelled, challenging. “Except you won’t, will you? You won’t give me a chance. B gets benched, and you say of course I’ll patrol with Jason in your stead –“

“No names in the field –“

"—we all know how fuckin’ useless he’d be on his own, amirite? So you come, but you gotta be a dick about it. I mean, jeez, if you can’t call me Robin without shedding a tear then even ‘hey you’ would do, but no. ‘Course not.”

"Meanwhile I suppose you had to keep a thirty feet distance between us because you were so excited about patrolling with me,” Dick countered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Look, kid, we don’t have to get along. But what you’re doing makes it harder for me to save your ass if something happens, and I think we can agree Batman wouldn’t be happy about that.”

“Oh, well, so long as it would upset Bruce,” Jason scoffed. “Guess you really have no choice but to watch out for me then. Lemme make it easier for you; I’ll head back home, an’ you can patrol on your fuckin’ own.”

Without waiting for a response, Jason flung himself off the roof, shooting his hook at the very last moment and swinging away. Bruce would be pissed if he could see him, because it was a stupid risk to take, but the rush was exhilarating, and Jason needed something to calm his nerves. If he didn’t, he’d either go right back and yell at Nightwing for the next hour without pause, or he’d break down crying, neither of which he wanted.

“ROBIN!”

The scream pierced the air, startling Jason and making him look back up, just in time to see Nightwing leaping and swinging after him. There was a grace in his movements that Jason would never achieve, no matter how many times he did this, no matter how technically correct his form was. This was Nightwing in his element, where he lived and breathed, in that breathless moment before the crash. Jason swallowed the bile in his throat, feeling woefully insufficient.

“What the fuck was that?” Dick demanded, supressed fury in his voice. He exhaled shakily and gathered himself – suddenly he looked terrifyingly calm. “Cave. Now. No detours, no fancy tricks, if you so much as think about doing something like that again I will carry you back kicking and screaming, so don’t you fucking try it. Go. Now.”

Jason bit back a sharp retort and took off, all the while wondering what the hell he’d done to get that kind of reaction. Dick had been pissed at him before, and pretty consistently, but this was something else. This was the kind of calm that could only possibly come before a storm. If Jason was to weather it, he’d much rather do it in the presence of Bruce and Alfred.

Just because Bruce was benched from the field, didn’t mean that any force in the world could keep him away from the cave. He was down there with Alfred, prepared to do ground control if need be. As much as they couldn’t agree on anything else, neither Dick nor Jason wanted Bruce to intervene, so they mentioned nothing on the way back nor after they arrived.

“It was pretty quiet,” Dick said cheerfully, and Jason had to marvel at his acting skills. “No point staying out more.”

“Hmm,” Bruce said. “Jason?”

Jason didn’t miss the hurt flashing across Dick’s face, but he nodded. “Yeah, like ‘Wing said. I’ve had more exciting nights studying algebra.”

“Alright.” Bruce turned to Dick again. “Thank you. For filling in.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Dick murmured.

And if that had been all, maybe they could have ignored it and moved on. But Bruce’s injury meant he’d be out of commission for at least two more nights. One had already nearly been disastrous, and Jason was still waiting for Dick to lash out at him after whatever that had been on patrol. How were they supposed to do this twice more? They would get nothing done.

And they were supposed to be helping Bruce, not making his job harder with fights and petty shit. It was all Dick’s fault. Where did he get off, not even bothering to hide how little regard he had for Jason, and then thinking it was his right to boss him around? No.

Jason changed out of his costume and headed right up to bed, wanting to avoid a possible confrontation. But not ten minutes had passed when there came a knock on the door, the pattern fitting neither Alfred nor Bruce. Whatever Dick thought of him, Jason was smart, and Bruce had taught him to recognize this kind of thing.

He lay still and pretended to be asleep, making no sound, barely breathing. If he didn’t respond maybe Dick would just go away.

“Jason,” Dick called out. “There’s no way you’re sleeping, open the door. We need to sort this out.”

Jason debated refusing to do it, but Dick would eventually find a way in, and the longer Jason stalled him, the angrier he’d be. He got up and opened the door, acknowledging Dick with a nod and stepping aside to let him through.

Dick stayed standing up, but Jason positioned himself strategically at his desk, and said nothing. If Dick wanted to talk so bad, then he’d have to do the heavy lifting.

“You’ll probably take this the wrong way,” Dick said. “But I can’t take you on patrol tomorrow if you’re gonna do what you did tonight again.”

"You can’t take me on patrol?” Jason echoed, disbelieving. “You couldn’t in the first place. You’re not Batman. You don’t even live in Gotham. It’s not your call whether I go or not. And what the hell is your problem, anyway? I don’t understand why you’re so pissed off about me going ahead, Jesus, do you need a promise I’ll follow at your heels tomorrow? ‘Cause then you can forget about it.”

"Do you really think this is what this is about?” Dick snarled. “You were purposely going further than I could reach you in time if anything happened, you were pulling reckless move after reckless move –“

“I was SHOWING OFF!” Jason bellowed. “Happy now? That what you wanted to hear? I know I’ll never be at the level of Dick Grayson, probably born mid-air, but I was dumb enough to think I could impress you! And then maybe you wouldn’t hate my guts so fucking much!”

"I don’t – that’s not –” Dick stared at him, wide-eyed, and for once with no clever retort. Then, with effort, he managed, “That last fall, when you said you were going back – that wasn’t about impressing anyone. It was needless and dangerous, and I know you would have never done it if Bruce could see you.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “Uh, yeah, duh. Bruce worries. Too much. And he can be an asshole about it. But you don’t give a shit about me, so how was I supposed to know you’d freak out?”

"I don’t – I don’t want you to get hurt,” Dick protested. “How much of an asshole do you think I am?”

“More of a dick, really,” Jason muttered with a shrug, and to his surprise Dick let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t, like…I knew what I was doing. I’m not completely hopeless at this, you know?”

"No, you’re not,” Dick agreed. “You’re doing…phenomenally. You should hear how Bruce talks about you. He’s probably not gonna tell you to your face when he’s proud, but it’s…yeah.”

“Is that the problem?” Jason asked. “That I’m good?”

“No,” Dick said with a shake off his head and a bitter smile. “It might be…I’m not happy with any of this, yeah, but it’s not for the reasons you imagine. Do you know…do you know what Robin is?”

“Robin is Batman’s partner,” Jason answered instantaneously, and then frowned, feeling like he’d failed some sort of test.

“He didn’t create it,” Dick said. “Bruce. I did. Robin was my mom’s nickname for me. The costume –ridiculous thing, right? – that was inspired by the Flying Graysons’ outfits.”

“Shit,” Jason breathed, feeling like someone had emptied a bucket of cold water over his head. “Shit. I didn’t know. No wonder, though, that you don’t like me. Huh.”

“It’s not really your fault,” Dick admitted, running a hand through his hair. “And I’m definitely through with Robin, I couldn’t go back, but it doesn’t feel like it was his right to give it away. That’s all.”

Jason looked away. He sympathised, except that Robin was the second best thing to ever happen to him, and he didn’t want to give it up. Especially when the first could very well be dependent on it. He ought to offer, at least, but he was too scared that Dick would take him up on it.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.

“You’re not the one I need an apology from,” Dick sighed. Suddenly he looked tired and much older than his eighteen years; he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, leaning against the wall. “They fell, you know.”

“What?”

“My parents. Bruce never told you that, either? A mobster burned the trapeze wires with acid and they plunged to their deaths. I was too young to take part in that show, but – I saw it. So do you understand?” he asked, glancing at Jason with a melancholy smile. “Being here, watching you, it already makes me think about…everything. And then I see you jump off a building, and I wait and I wait and you’re not firing your grappling hook. You have no idea how much you scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jason murmured.

“I know.”

There was a pregnant pause. Jason found it almost impossible to stay mad at Dick after the bomb he’d dropped. All Jason had known was that Dick was a former circus kid and that his parents were dead. Bruce hadn’t given him more details, and he hadn’t asked for them. He only knew Nightwing, infuriating and impossible to keep up with – he’d never thought about Dick Grayson, Jason’s age or younger, grieving, just taken in by a billionaire. He’d never thought about Dick’s whys and hows.

"Do you want to know what Robin meant to me?” he asked, hesitant, worried that it was the wrong thing to say. But Dick nodded. “Robin’s a kid. That’s the whole point. He’s never as big or as strong as the bad guys. But he wins, and it’s not because of Batman. He can fight back. He can – we all wanted to be Robin. The street kids, I mean. And before that, the kids in my neighborhood. Batman was cool, yes, he was Gotham’s protector, but Robin? He was ours. Or it felt like it.”

But he was Dick’s first, Jason thought now, and he hadn’t stopped to consider that.

"So you thought Robin was cooler than Batman?” Dick asked, a teasing tilt to his voice, and Jason was grateful for the lighter turn.

“Yeah,” he said. “For the record, Nightwing is pretty cool, too.”

Dick laughed and unexpectedly ruffled Jason’s hair. “And so is Robin, then and now.”

#my writing #jtbdayweek #jtbdayweek2019 #jason todd #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #batman comics #dc comics

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harry-lloyd · 4 years

Link

In many ways, the horrible wig was the best thing to happen to Harry Lloyd.

The shock of platinum blonde hair, slashed to a sensible bob at his shoulders like a high-fashion Legolas, was the coif that tied Lloyd’s indelible, insufferable Game of Thrones character together: Viserys Targaryen, the petulant narcissist whose play for the Iron Throne melts along with the rest of him under a pot of molten metal poured over his head, one of the show’s first and most iconic gruesome death scenes.

The splashy HBO production was the biggest job the young actor had ever landed, and as a character with an unmistakable, unforgettable look, to boot— the better to sear into TV fans’ consciousness.

Blessedly, that unmistakable, unforgettable look in no way actually resembled him, a then-27-year-old rising star with short, dark brown hair and alabaster complexion. He played one of the most memorable characters in recent TV history on possibly the last truly massive global TV phenomenon, yet, by the grace of a wig, he was still unrecognizable.

“I kind of loved that,” Lloyd tells The Daily Beast over Zoom from the loft study in his North London home. “And I kind of loved that he died. He had this lovely arc, and he still has his place in this enormous and infamous canon.”

Given how vivid that arc is in Thrones lore, it’s almost startling to remember that he was only on five episodes of the show.

“I had my go,” he says. “I got in early and I got out early. And he didn’t look like me, which, number one, is good because he is a little shit. And so I was happy to not have people throwing stuff at me in the streets. But number two, and I didn’t notice at the time, but it has since become the biggest show on TV. It doesn’t make me worry about being typecast so much.”

In the years since becoming a scalded puddle of boiling jewels and flesh, Lloyd has been able to shapeshift through an impressive résumé of prestige TV series and award-nominated films—Manhattan, Wolf Hall, Counterpart, Legion, The Theory of Everything—relieved of the kind of limitations actors who play little shits in garish white wigs on TV’s biggest show typically shoulder.

The occasion for our conversation is yet another transformation, as Bernard Marx in Brave New World, the splashy adaptation of Aldous Huxley’s 1932 dystopian sci-fi novel. The series is the marquee original offering for Wednesday’s launch of the new Peacock streaming service, casting Downton Abbey alum Jessica Brown Findlay and Han Solo himself, Alden Ehrenreich, alongside Lloyd in an updated take on the classic work.

Brave New World thwarts the idea of a restrictive, Orwellian dystopia with one in which society is instead forced into surrendering their inhibitions. “Welcome to New London,” a prologue explains. “We have three rules. No privacy. No family. No monogamy. Everyone is very happy.”

The new series boasts modernized flourishes when it comes to style—if there had been this much sex in Huxley’s book, we would have paid far more attention to it in high school—and sensibility; some of the problematically racist and misogynistic themes and plot points have been corrected.

Lloyd’s Bernard is an upper echelon member of society, called an Alpha-Plus, whose job is to maintain social order. Throughout the series, he experiences a crisis of conscience, an existential awakening at odds with the blissful stasis he’s meant to both control and enjoy.

If a narrow escape from typecasting and a career playing snooty, megalomaniacal manchildren has meant a diverse array of opportunity for Lloyd, then Brave New World marks more new territory: It’s his first outright leading role.

Lloyd had never read Huxley’s book before being cast, but was impressed by the ambition of the script, “almost like a mega tentpole movie in scale” but esoteric and satirical at the same time. “I was like, this has the whole package if they can shoot this, but I don’t think they can.”

It took one day on set for him to catch wise to the technical prowess at play. “I was like, wow, this really is a brave new world,” he says.

Don’t worry. He promptly scoffed at himself and rolled his eyes.

It is one of the best opening lines to a profile that I’ve read, from a 2011 feature on Lloyd that ran in Britain’s The Independent: “There was a time when Harry Lloyd worried that he was forever going to be typecast—as a woman.”

It was in reference to Lloyd’s days as a student at Eton College, where the young teen’s voice had not yet broken and he was cast as women in a slew of all-male Shakespeare productions.

Here we were prepping to engage with Lloyd about the perils of typecasting following his Thrones stint, ignorant of the fact that he had already confronted the issue decades earlier.

Lloyd laughs good-naturedly when the era of fake bras and bonnets is brought up.

“I hated it,” he says. Just when he had vowed never to agree to it again, in his last year at school he was asked to play Rosalind in As You Like It, by all counts a fantastic leading part. He nailed it, and earned raves. “At an all-boys boarding school, it took balls to put on tights, as it was.” A perfectly-earned smirk at his own joke follows.

The truth is that being typecast or pigeon-holed is a stressor that followed Lloyd, who grew up in London with parents who worked in the book industry. “Sometimes it’s just the face you have at a certain age…” he says.

His first major role came at age 15 in the BBC’s 1999 adaptation of David Copperfield, opposite Daniel Radcliffe. (Adding another fascinating layer to the trivia: Lloyd himself is the great-great-great grandson of Charles Dickens.) One of his first jobs after that was playing a bullying prefect in the series Goodbye, Mr. Chips.

“I guess that’s what I looked like, and I did that a couple of times,” he says. “Then I was like, I don’t really want to just be that guy. He’s a bit of a dick. And then I think next up I played the murderer in some procedural police thing, some young kid that’s gone sideways.”

Each time he felt a box starting to close its sides around him, he actively sought out something different. Having Great Expectations, in which he played Herbert Pocket, “the loveliest, most benign chap you’d ever meet,” air months after his Thrones debut was key. But he can’t refute that, with or without a platinum wig, there’s something about the way he looks that telegraphs a certain kind of sinister character.

“If I turn up in a murder thing, it’s often me who’s done it,” he says, grinning. “I don’t want to give anything away from the stuff I’ve been in. But I don’t know, there’s something about my face that is like, ‘He could do it.’”

After he had finished filming his part on Thrones and the series was about to come out, he was cast in the buzzy West End production of the Tony-winning play The Little Dog Laughed.

If you’re familiar with the work, a satire about Hollywood illusion (and delusion) in which an acerbic, big-wig agent crisis manages her rising-star client’s pesky “recurring case of homosexuality,” you understand why it’s a fairly hilarious, if sobering, project to be involved in just as an actor’s own fame and industry profile is about to skyrocket.

“Because I was about to be on Game of Thrones, I thought, this is the time for me to get an American agent,” he recalls. “And so the American agents, when they were in London, would come and see me in this play, which basically looks at agenting and their ways with quite a big, angry magnifying glass. They would come backstage and say, ‘Look, I am not like that…’” He laughs. “It was always quite a funny way to start the proceedings.”

Having starred in episodes of Dr. Who and played Charles Xavier in Legion, not to mention his connection to Thrones, Lloyd has had his taste of the particular brand of rabid, Comic-Con fandom. Though he prefers to classify himself as “adjacent-adjacent” to that world.

While there are certainly those who will know right away that he was a Targaryen, what he gets more of is a “Wait, how do I know you?” awkward conversation. “Genuinely, people are like, ‘Hey, did I go to school with you?’ I’m at that level of renown. You can’t quite place why you might recognize me.”

Asked how life under the coronavirus shutdown has been, Lloyd is very British about the months spent with his wife and their almost-2-year-old. “We’ve done alright,” he says. “We learned how to finally kind of plan our fridge. And now we know how to do our shopping tactically. We cooked some good stuff.”

For fear of sounding “solipsistic,” to use a word employed often in Brave New World, he identifies the extended time home with typical feelings actors have throughout their career.

“You have accelerated times in your life when things happen like a dream,” he says. “Things are so fast and our whole world’s rebuilt entirely every time you get a job. And then is the come-down and the fallout.”

He remembers that feeling from when he was doing plays: the energy and pace of putting on the show, and then a few weeks after it ends there’s a massive crash.

“It feels a bit like you’re in lockdown. You stare around on a Tuesday afternoon. You don’t want to watch anything. You don’t know what to do or who to call, and you kind of lose your style. There’s been a bit of that.”

Just when things got to the point that he felt like he might lose his mind, he was contracted to record an audiobook. So for a couple of days a week, he would sit up in his “sweatbox made out of duvets” and read Great Expectations aloud for Penguin. “That saved me for sure.”

On the subject of works by his great-great-great grandfather, Lloyd used to be at a loss for what to do when people brought it up. Often they would say, “Congratulations!” on the relation, as if he had accomplished something himself by being born into Charles Dickens’ lineage. “But these days, I’ll take it, I’ve decided. ‘Yeah, thank you so much.’ It’s a nice thing to celebrate.”

The 150th anniversary of Dickens’ death was in June. There had been plans for a commemoration ceremony at Westminster Abbey that, because of the shutdown, became a Zoom event instead.

“I don’t know how many people’s deaths get a 150th anniversary,” he says. “The fact that I have any kind of personal connection with that is very much secondary. But something that I’m very proud of.”

At risk of belaboring the point, we ask if working on any of the Dickens adaptations he’s starred in on TV or recording this audiobook makes Lloyd feel any sort of profound or poignant connection to him.

He laughs. “I can’t point to a physical sensation like hairs in the back of my neck standing. ‘I feel him. It’s me and Chucky D in the room right now.’”

#harry lloyd #interview

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incorrigiblyhuman · 4 years

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@sagaiisms replied to your post:

Gimme those sweet stats.

okay so i copied parts of what i put in response to an earlier meme, but i added a BUNCH of extra explanations and stats so HERE WE GO:

LEONARD HORATIO McCOY, VARIANT HUMAN, TWILIGHT DOMAIN CLERIC.

variant human:

extra language: elvish, a.k.a. vulcan, which is as close as i can get to acknowledging his unique knowledge of half-vulcan half-human physiology. i’ll count it as comprehension of mannerisms, too.

ability score improvement x2: dexterity, intelligence - he’s excellent with his hands (DEX), and a brilliant medic who has on multiple occasions come up with cures on the fly, in imperfect conditions, for never-before-seen illnesses and plagues. (INT)

additional proficiency: intimidation, because he’s king of the curmudgeons and if you think you’re leaving sickbay before he wants you to then fuck you, you’re wrong.

feat: war caster, because he serves on a starship that is expected to run into combat, he has to be ready and able to perform while under attack. and is, always. also, being able to use the somatic components of a spell even if holding a weapon or shield is so useful when people in sickbay keep fucking ATTACKING YOU.

twilight domain cleric:

proficiencies: insight, medicine - medicine is obvious, insight is because the enterprise doesn’t technically have an onboard psychologist, so he frequently fills that role, and has the degree for it. also because he’s learned to read the people he sees day in and day out like the medical textbooks he studied in college, he just Knows Things.

eyes of night: gives you darkvision with no maximum range, and allows you to give that darkvision to other people around you. okay so it’s a bit of a stretch, but i like to apply this class feature to the surgical procedure mccoy invented involving grafting neural tissue to the cerebral cortex, SPECIFICALLY because they ended up using it in st: voyager, which is like passing off the ability to see in the dark because mccoy himself saw through the dark to create that procedure years before.

vigilant blessing: gives one creature you touch advantage on the next initiative roll. how many times has kirk been about to move only to pause because of mccoy’s warning “jim!” and then proceed again, more cautiously? that vigilance keeps his friends safe.

channel divinity : twilight sanctuary: can refresh allies by granting temporary hit points and ending one effect that causes one to be charmed/frightened. not only is mccoy a damn doctor, but he’s also pretty DAMN good at taking the piss out of someone, or making light of a heavy situation.

ability score improvement x2: charisma, wisdom - man is scary, charming, and sympathetic in equal measures (CHA) and he’s been around the block a few times, he knows how to handle people and he knows what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t always act diplomatically. (WIS) i chose ability score over a feat because so far he’s a DEX and INT focused build but CHA is a super important part of his personality so we can’t lose out on that, and he needs WIS to be a cleric with a decent spell save DC.

steps of the brave: at 6th level, you get advantage on saving throws against being frightened. mccoy’s instinctual reaction to fear is to throw it back in someone’s face, outwardly he gets pissy far before he gets scared. and it’s an effective reaction, just look at the khan scene. this feat also gives you a flying speed in darkness but i don’t know what the hell to do with that except to say that he can and will come out of nowhere if he senses you’re being a dumbass on this ship.

feat: tavern brawler + increase in strength score - how many times have he and other away team members ended up in prison/captured/stranded/under attack? so many. tavern brawler gives him proficiency with improvised weapons ( see: the mattress in “bread & circuses” ), a stronger unarmed strike ( see: his takedown of the transporter operator in “city on the edge of forever” ), and a bonus action to grapple a target when attacking with an unarmed strike/improvised weapon. ( see: restraining eleen so that she wouldn’t alert the guards when the triumvirate were trying to break out of captivity in “friday’s child.” )

divine intervention: at 10th level, can call a deity to intervene on your behalf when your need is great. “angels and ministers of grace defend us” from st: voyage home. need i say more?

prepared spells: CANTRIPS - GUIDANCE - kirk goes to him for advice a LOT. - MENDING - the man can sew. let him patch some shit up. - TOLL THE DEAD - a single “he’s dead, jim” seals your fate. - SPARE THE DYING - perfect for a miracle worker. - WORD OF RADIANCE - he’s a master of offhanded insults, i’d give him cutting word if it was an option. 1ST, 2ND, 3RD, 4TH, and 5TH LEVELS - COMMAND - he’s CMO, if he’s talking you’re listening. - DARKNESS - he can project his depression like a dark cloud i guess? this one’s always prepared for twilight clerics, idk. - DETECT EVIL AND GOOD - he’s got good gut feelings, like in “dagger of the mind”. - FAERIE FIRE - useful for picking a problem out amongst the cluster of human internal organs, and especially amongst alien internal organs. - SLEEP - he can knock you out with a hypospray at any moment. - INVISIBILITY - where’s that post like MCCOY EXISTS YOU ASSHOLES. that. it’s a triumvirate goddammit. - SPIRITUAL WEAPON - hypospray. that’s it. - AURA OF VITALITY - tell me you don’t just light up seeing him bounce on his toes. he brings vigor to the room and joy to the heart. - BEACON OF HOPE - “my god bones. what have i done?” “what you had to do. what you always do: turn death into a fighting chance to live.” - CREATE FOOD AND WATER - he can pull alcohol out of his ass. - FEIGN DEATH - amok time. that’s it. - LEOMUND’S TINY HUT - another one that’s always prepared for this class. he just makes any place feel like home, i guess. also ‘leomund’ looks like ‘leonard’. - REVIVIFY - i mean it’s a staple for any cleric, but also he’s a miracle worker who will bring you back to life no matter what. - AURA OF LIFE - it’s like what he gave everyone in “wolf in the fold” to keep them from succumbing to the killing terror of the jack the ripper spirit. - FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT - he’s a healer, so i imagine he’s pretty free to do whatever the hell he wants by the laws of most societies. especially if there’s a chance he can help someone. likewise, he can grant it to others by just saying ‘doctor’s orders’. - GREATER INVISIBILITY - MCCOY EXISTS YOU ASSHOLES!! but the movies version. - CIRCLE OF POWER - this is just a metaphor for vaccines. he can grant everyone advantage on saving throws. - CONTAGION - this is the “mirror mirror” nod, the acknowledgement of that potential for darkness should it need to shine through. you think he’s not capable of weaponizing his medicine when pressed? try him. try mirror leonard horatio mccoy. it’ll be the last thing you ever do. - DREAM - this is just a nod to the dreams of the raven novel tbh, he can affect ya dreams. - GEAS - if you’re nearby and he needs an extra set of hands, you’re an orderly now, period. likewise, if you’re fucking around in his space, all he needs to do is give you The Eyebrow and you will immediately stop. - LEGEND LORE - campfire stories baybee! he’s got ‘em! also a thousand and one stories about some great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great someone or other.

i only went up to level 10 stats for the time being because look at how damn long this got already agshdjk but IN SUMMARY!

twilight domain is TECHNICALLY unearthed arcana and untested, so it’s not “legit” yet, but the description of it fits mccoy to a T:

“the twilight domain governs the transition and blending of light into darkness. it is a time of rest and comfort, but also the threshold between safety and the unknown. clerics who serve these deities tend to be brave, delving into the dark to hold its dangers at bay and to bring comfort to those lost far from the light.”

like what could possibly better suit a space-traveling, bullheaded doctor who joined starfleet after losing everything?

#( ooc. ) CAPTAIN. THE MARINARA.#sagaiisms #APOLOGIES FOR THE GIANT LORE DUMP #I HAVE PUT A LOT OF THOUGHT INTO THIS SGDHJK #( headcanons. ) JUST AN OLD COUNTRY DOCTOR.#someday i'll write dnd mccoy....someday......it'll be glorious #also his holy symbol is the starfleet insignia

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themadlostgirl · 6 years

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Not Dead Yet (Part 65)

*ha ha ha...i hate myself...*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

There were many ways to start a day. Mine started wrapped in the arms of my Peter. I was still kinda miffed about last night but it had dimmed. Peter keeps secrets. Always have. Always will. I need to accept that. Watching him try to make it up to me was nice though. I wouldn’t call Peter Pan a person who looks for cuddles but he wouldn’t let me go that morning. I even pretended that it meant something more than him trying to keep himself in my good graces.

I was able to get him to get up and we walked back to camp. That is where the day went from pleasantly serene to a hot mess in less than five minutes. No one had been keeping an eye on Wendy last night so she attempted an escape via one of the row boats we stole from the pirates. She got caught by said pirates when they noticed her clumsily making her way across the waves and had just sent word they were holding her ransom.

“It is too early for this shit.” I muttered. “I’ll get her.”

I whistled and Candace flew to my shoulder. I didn’t give any of the boys the chance to react before I was marching towards the beach with my club at my side and murder in my eyes. I spotted the Jolly Roger out in the distance and told Candace to take me to it. She grabbed my shoulders in her talons and flew out across the sea. It hurt but it was the quickest way to get across the ocean without having to rely on Peter’s magic.

With my shoulders bleeding and anger set I landed on the pirate ship. Immediately the crew drew their weapons and aimed them at me. I was not having it. They had my Wendy-bird. If they wanted blood there would be blood.

“Watch where you point those.” I strolled pass them unbothered, “Where’s Captain Rum Keg?”

“If it isn’t the she-demon of Neverland.” Hook came up from below the ship, “I believe you’re here for the lass.”

“Yes. Where is she?”

“In my quarters resting.”

“How noble. Is that standard procedure when you find a girl running away from the island?” I snatched the flask of rum off him and took a nip. “Remember what happened last time?”

“Aye. The same mistake was not repeated.”

I tried to move past him towards his quarters but was blocked. “Captain, stand aside before you make my bad mood worse.”

“If you want the lass back then free us of this realm.”

“Or alternately I could bash that scruffy head of yours in and let my phoenix set your ship ablaze and watch as the mermaids devour your charred remains. What’s it gonna be?”

He studied me for a moment and stood aside. “Wise decision.”

“Captain!” one of the crew shouted, “You’re just gonna let her have her way? She’s one person! Without her demon how can she be any threat?”

I stopped and turned back around. Hook looked like he was ready to throw the man overboard himself. “You’re new to this crew, aren’t you?” I dragged my club across the wooden planks as I crossed to him. “The fact that I exist is a threat to you. I will kill every last rum soaked scabby pirate on this ship without any remorse or difficulty. If you did manage to overpower me and kill me then you would incite the ravenous bloodlust of the boy that controls this realm and my brothers that he leads. I would not be so irritated if it wasn’t for the fact that I was having a nice morning up until now.”

With one swift swing of my club the pirate crumpled to the ground, his neck bent at an unnatural angle and blood trickling from his lifeless face. “You took my friend. Threatened her harm. That’s not something I take lightly. Anyone else want to try me or can I collect my bird and be off?”

No one spoke. I huffed pass them and threw open the door to the captain’s quarters. Wendy was sitting on the bed. Her hands and feet bound together with rope. “Hello Darling,” I went over to her and started to saw through the rope, “Are you alright?”

“Y/N, I’m so happy to see you!” she hugged me once I got her free.

“And I’m glad to see you still in one piece.” I hugged her back, “What were you thinking trying to escape like that? You could have been attacked by mermaids or caught up in a storm or starved to death because I doubt you thought to bring rations with you on your escape attempt.”

“I was just thinking of home. Peter wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Come here,” I grabbed her hand and led her back onto the deck, “We need to have a talk.”

I instructed Hook to sail us to shore. Begrudgingly he did as commanded and began the trip back towards the island. Once I was sure that Wendy was alright, save for some bruises and chafe marks from the rope, I relaxed. I sat on the railing of the ship and explained to Wendy something I knew she wasn’t going to like hearing.

“You won’t help me leave?!” she screeched so loudly I nearly fell off the ship.

I shot a dirty look to the pirates to mind their own business before focusing back on Wendy. It took everything in me not to give in. I knew Wendy would want to go home but I couldn’t help her. The last time I tried to help someone leave the island it tore Peter and I apart. She could hate me if she wanted but I wasn’t crossing Peter again. I couldn’t bear it.

“I am truly sorry, Wendy.” I laid a hand on her shoulder, “I know you don’t want to be here but you had your chance to leave before. You got a choice and then you went ahead and came back anyways.”

“I needed to save Baelfire! I wouldn’t have come back if it wasn’t for you people insisting on taking one of my brothers!” she smacked my hand away and crossed to the other side of the ship.

I understood her anger but it still hurt to hear her talking to me like this. “I didn’t know that Peter would take one of your brothers. When I found out it was too late.”

“You could have gotten him sent back though! I know you could have!”

“Wendy, there is a lot you don’t know about what happened while you were gone. There is a lot of history between Peter and Baelfire and it made things complicated. If it was one of your actual brothers it may have been different but with Baelfire…”

“History? How did Peter know Bae?”

“It’s not my place to say.” Especially when about a dozen pirates were eavesdropping, “But you should know I did try to help him leave. I told him how to get off the island. He almost made it but someone overheard me helping him and ratted us out to Peter. Things went downhill after that.”

“And...you left…” she calmed down slightly. She almost seemed guilty.

“Yeah…”

“What happened here? Why did you leave? I tried to weasel it out of Peter but he wouldn’t say anything.”

I motioned for her to come closer. I turned her around and started to braid her hair back from her face as I explained. “We fought, stopped talking to each other, I couldn’t take it anymore so I left. That’s all there is to say.”

She was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, barely above a whisper, “Did he...has he said anything to you? Anything new?”

“No. Why? Do you know something?” My heart picked up for some reason.

“Not a thing.” she sighed.

“You’re a terrible liar, Darling.”

“Not all of us have as much practice as you.”

“But I’ve never lied to you.” I whispered in her ear as I tied off the braid. “I need you to know that I am sorry about all of this. About you being stuck here and about Bae. I am sorry for everything but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

She turned towards me with her head hung low. I tilted her head back up. I needed her to know I was being sincere. “Neverland can be a great home if you let it. The boys and I. There’s Tigerlily and a new ex-fairy named Tinkerbell who seems nice so we aren’t the only girls on the island. It can be fun here. You can have a family here...if you want.”

“I--I--” she had gone pure red.

“Sorry.” I retreated up into the rigging, “You’ve been through a lot. Take your time and sort through all this at your own pace.”

We got to the beach and Peter was waiting with a group of boys. They didn’t look to happy. Wendy reached for my hand squeezing it tight. “Don’t worry about them. I won’t let them lock you up again.” I tugged her along behind me.

“That was reckless, pet.” Peter chastised.

“I had it under control.” I assured him, “Did you doubt me?”

“Never.” he kissed my cheek, “I adore it when you get that murderous gleam in your eye.”

“I know you do.” I smirked back at him. “Disappointed you didn’t get to witness the result of my anger?”

“Kill someone, did we?”

“One blow to the head.” I tossed him my bloodied club.

“Gods I’ve missed you,” he kissed me again. A laugh bubbled up in my throat as he did.

“Ahem,” Wendy cleared her throat.

“Sorry Darling,” I broke the kiss with an embarrassed smile, “He’s insatiable.”

“Right,” Peter peered behind me narrowing his eyes at Wendy, “What are we going to do with you?”

“Don’t,” I pushed him away from her, “We talked. She’s okay.”

“Are you sure about that? She’s already proven to be an issue. Her promises don’t mean anything.”

“You have my word, she isn’t going to cause any more problems. If she does then you can lock her up.”

“Y/N!” Wendy whined.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one that tried to leave after promising not to cause more trouble.” I rolled my eyes and glanced down at her bare feet. “Let’s go get you some shoes.”

We went back to camp and I tossed her some shoes and change of clothes. I even gave her my tent to stay in for the foreseeable future. Outside of the time Peter and I weren’t talking to each other I usually stayed in his tent at night. Mine was just collecting dust.

She was quiet and when I tried to talk her into going to training she ignored me and stayed in the tent. This is not going to be as easy as the first time around. “Keep near her,” I told Candace as I set off for training with the rest of the boys.

I paired off with Peter during training. We had an agreement that he wouldn’t use magic while we fought. It evened the battlefield and kept his skills sharp in case he ever didn’t have magic to help him in fights. Even with magic though I would have been able to beat him. Wendy probably would have been able to pin him today!

“Come now, chief,” I pinned him again, “Don’t tell me you’re going easy on me.”

“I’d never insult you so, pet,” he sighed. “I guess I don’t have the energy today.”

“Maybe if you didn’t stay up all night you wouldn’t be so tired.”

“Maybe if you weren’t giving me a reason to stay up all night I would actually get some sleep.”

“That can be arranged.”

“No.” he grabbed me and rolled on top of me, “Sleep is for the weak anyway.” He traced the lines of my face. That same soft look in his eyes from yesterday that I couldn’t quite place.

“Do you want us to leave?” Nick said drawing our attention back to the training ground where all the Lost Boys were watching us with differing levels of discomfort.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Peter!”

“What?”

“I swear…” I broke out of his hold and recollected my club from the ground. “If you’re so tired go take a nap. I’m gonna keep training.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Tell that to the five times I beat you to the ground in the past half hour.” I grabbed Nick and dragged his smirking ass towards the archery targets. “Nick, if you don’t stop with that smug look you are going to be what I’m shooting at.”

~~~

This is unfair. He’s already dying. Why does he have to throw up blood too?

Peter spit out the taste of blood and bile still souring his tongue.

“I didn’t even do anything this time. Can I no longer flirt with my Lost Girl now?” Another wave of nausea washed over him and he steadied himself against a tree as he heaved. “Dammit.”

“Peter?”

Fuck.

He turned around and saw Wendy watching him her face etched with concern.

“Afternoon,” he waved his hand and the bloody vomit disappeared down into the earth. “Heading to training?”

“No. I was going to go visit Tigerlily and the new fairy. Are you alright?”

“Fine. Go on with your visit.” he tried to walk away before the pain in his abdomen made him double over again. He pressed a hand to his stomach to quell the damage that was being done to his insides.

“You are not fine,” Wendy knelt next to him. She pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Shove off,” he swatted her hand away. “I can handle this.”

“Are you sure about that? You’re as white as a sheet.” she handed him a canteen of water, “Drink.”

“I told you--” he felt a small rush of puke rise in his throat. He swallowed it back.

“I’m getting Y/N.”

“No!” he grabbed her wrist, “You can’t tell Y/N.”

“Why not?”

Peter stayed silent.

Wendy pushed the canteen into his hands once again. He took a sip knowing it wouldn’t help but it would be nice to get this terrible taste out of his mouth.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since yesterday.”

“When Y/N returned?”

He got quiet again.

“How does her returning tie into you being sick?”

“Reasons you cannot begin to understand.”

“Magic reasons.”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you telling Y/N? If it has to do with her then I think she ought to know. She’ll find out eventually no matter what. Why keep her in the dark like this?”

Peter debated how much he should confide in the girl that tried to escape and knew more about his feelings for Y/N than even he did. He didn’t have much to lose either way.

“I just got her back.” he murmured, “I’m not going to worry her over something as trivial as an upset stomach.”

“You’d rather keep secrets about something that is physically hurting you and risk Y/N getting upset and maybe even angry about it? For someone who is doing this because you just got her back this seems a great way to drive her away again. Don’t you think?”

“I hate you,”

“Maybe.” she nodded unbothered, “But I know that you’re sick. You can’t get rid of me because Y/N won’t allow it. There is nothing stopping me from going and telling her all of this.”

“What do you want?”

“That you tell her the truth.”

“I’m not telling her about some magically induced curse vomit.”

“That’s not what I was referring to.” She stood to her feet. “You don’t want her to leave again? You want to give her a reason to forgive you when she finds out you’re keeping this from her? Then tell her the truth. This isn’t an ultimatum, Pan. It’s advice. I suggest you take it.”

Peter watched her walk away. The truth...how can he tell her the truth when it’ll literally kill him to do so?

(First) (Previous) (Next)

#slowburn #ouat peter pan #peter pan ouat #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader

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cometeclipsewriting · 6 years

Text

Strowlers

Season 1: Episode 1

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Summary: In a world where magic is both real and illegal, a librarian tries to help protect a young girl discovering her powers, while her girlfriend makes a device that helps to find unregistered magic users.

Full video episode can be found for free here!

“I was hoping that if they arrested me, they wouldn’t take Omar.” Whit shook her head. “I was wrong.” She lifted the cup she had been given, staring at the blue enameled metal. She huddled into her blanket, the air not cold enough to cause the frission that skittered down her back. But slow anger still burned in her core.

“At least I’m not part of the problem,” she looked around the ragtag huddle, her lips pressed into a flat line that only the most optimistic of souls would call a smile.

Night held them tightly, full dark. She had looked for them. Well, for people like them, for hours. And it was late, far later than she knew. But this was crucial. Across the jumping lights of the trashcan fire, a man slipped in, “You mean the Archanologists.” It wasn’t a question.

“Magic should be freed!” Whit pushed out. “Not collared and licensed.” She disagreed with Amanda on this subject on a fundamental level, and it had caused fights in the past; so they didn’t ever talk about it. Something she was bitterly regretting now. If she had known the research happening right under her nose, she would have searched for these people much sooner. Danger was coming to them. Coming to so many.

“What do you know,” a man asked, “about archanology?” His tone flowed, a poet speaking verse. Compelling, thoughtful, words full of meaning to discover.

Whit took a drink of her tea, shaking her head at the question, “Only what Amanda tells me... and what I read between the lines.”

***

“Thank you for seeing me on short notice.” Amanda spoke respectfully to the Preceptor, stepping up to stand beside him. She belonged among them. Her navy blue peacoat and professional slacks a clean symmetry to the two men’s A.R.C. suits. Like them, her hair was cut short and kept neat, the red-blonde parted and smoothed down. No spontaneity or ornamentation. The only true difference her lack of Focus scars gracing her temples.

“You circumnavigated four levels of bureaucracy in order to reach me directly, Professor.” He didn’t look at her once, keeping his concentration and magic trained on the man strapped to the chair in the adjoining room. Recruit 291’s eyes darted erratically around the vision his released magic still weaved. “You have my attention.”

Amanda took one small breath, trying to match his level of dispassion. Emotions would only hinder her here. “As you may know, um,” she glanced away from the proceedings in the other room, “my research to date has been focused on how and when children’s powers manifest.”

The technician slipped on a pair of heavy sunglasses, flashing her own scars, crossed to the large bank of buttons and dials, and started the process. A flat tone filled the air and surrounding area, and the machine started up.

The two spheres on either side of Recruit 291’s head immediately produced a bright white light, electric sparks traveling to each other, penetrating his temples. It coursed through him, sending his body to vibrate, jerking uncontrollably. Through the glass, Amanda could swear she felt the prickle on her own skin; to have it touch you directly… Despite his previous compliance, the young man tried to escape now. The restraints kept him in place as the electric crackle altered him forever.

“Unfocused talent can cause extraordinary damage.” Amanda couldn’t help but watch, her heart rate erratic, her palms starting to sweat. The Preceptor flexed his hand, testing what magic was still unrestrained but remained as cool as ever. As if he were just observing a lecture. “Especially when conducted through the unfocused and undeveloped mind of a child.” Her voice quavered, broke just a little, but she tried to keep her fear away. This horrible looking procedure was just a natural part of being a member of A.R.C.

“Your point, Professor.” He dropped his hand, but still watched carefully. Recruit 291’s eyes rolled back, the mouthguard preventing him from biting his tongue.

“What if we could detect talent in an individual before it manifests?” Amanda’s passion for her project collected her and the importance of her work beat over her fear. “I think my prototype solves that problem.”

In the other room, the machine powered down gradually, the electricity dying away. Recruit 291’s chest rose as he took deep, steady breaths, body easing into the chair. He blinked out at Amanda, his new scars raised white against an ashy black powder that had appeared on his skin. He waited patiently for the technician to come over and remove the mouthguard. He didn’t smack his lips or shift around in discomfort. He gave no indication of the stress his body had just been put through. He sat with an unnatural stillness, blinking, waiting.

“What do you feel.” The operator asked, but there was no inflection to the question. It was flat, monotone.

“I don’t feel.” He said, staring straight at Amanda. She swallowed. Hard. And the rhythmic blue flash of her collar reflected in the glass.

Director Rodrigo leaned over and hit the speaker, projecting his voice into the operating room. “Test him. If he retains his powers, he can apply for a job with A.R.C. If they have gone down too low… send him to corporate loan outs,” he instructed dismissively.

He turned around and looked at Amanda. “Does it work?”

The sudden shift back to her threw her for a moment. “My prototype?” She lifted her chin confidently. “Yes.”

“You know that makes it a level seven restricted technology.” He shifted his head just slightly, studying her closely. Was there a hint of sentiment in his voice? But his eyes showed absolutely none.

“Technically, yes.” One of the reasons she had kept it secret from everyone. Including Whit.

“And that your clearance level as an academic doesn’t begin to give you the authority-“

“But it works.” She interrupted, sure of her discovery and the sheer importance of the implications. She had to make them understand how it could revolutionize the process. How it could save so many lives. With a slight pause to bring her tone back down to the moderate tone A.R.C. members should always use, she continued, “And the regional council has the authority to grant a research waver.” And these two men were members of that council.

He looked at her, but Amanda couldn’t discern a hint of what he was thinking. The emotion she thought she had detected earlier gone entirely.

The low buzz of her phone filled the pregnant silence. Amanda looked away, just suppressing the grunt of aggravation from escaping. Why hadn’t she turned her phone off?

The Preceptor looked over his shoulder. “Take your call Professor, and we will discuss your request.”

She looked down, turning away and pulling her phone out of her pocket. Shit. This was not how she had hoped this meeting would go. She answered the call professionally, at least. “This is Amanda.”

***

“Amanda!” Whit cried with relief into the phone in one of the enclosed offices of the library. “I’ve been arrested! Or, I don’t know, I’m being detained.” In the desk across from her the cop watched her closely, as if she would burst into fire or start shooting magic bullets out of her mouth. A man with an at-ready rifle patrolled out in the main entrance of the library. And the creepy A.R.C. guy just watched her, too intent, his eyes still just a bit too wide. She really didn’t like him. He was like a predator, just waiting for her to run.

“No, something really crazy just happened at the library, and now these A.R.C. dudes think I’ve got The Power.” She made sure to add as much drama and sarcasm into her voice and had the pleasure in watching the cop role his eyes and explode out of his chair in a huff. “I know! I told them it’s ridiculous but- Hey!” He yanked the phone from her hand.

“Amanda Darrow?” He barked, pushing his authority.

“No, that’s impossible.” Amanda shook her head at what she was being told. Whit couldn’t have been responsible for the code 37. She had dreaded that the magical anomaly had been at Whit’s library, and it didn’t truly surprise her that Whit was somehow wrapped up in the fringes of it. But Whit couldn’t be the one who had caused a magical spike. “How- How did it happen?” How was she going to get her out of this?

The Archanologists had been speaking quietly behind her, but her tone must have pulled them from their official business. “Is there a problem?” Director Rodrigo asked.

Amanda took a little breath, turning to speak to him. You couldn’t just ignore a question asked to you by one of the head members of A.R.C. “Your agency is holding my… roommate for triggering an unlicensed manifestation.”

Love. She couldn’t tell them the truth of their relationship. Amanda loved Whit, a strong and powerful emotion. And emotions were anathema to Archanology. Emotions led to human mistakes and errors. The larger and stronger the emotions, the greater and more destructive the mistake. As she well knew. Not just from all the horror stories she heard in the news. Oh, no. She had her own personal well of horror to know that her love for Whit was not the wisest thing she had ever done.

“Did she?” Director Rodrigo prompted.

“Not a chance. She’s failed every test that we offer.” And more than a few of them several times. Whit really had hoped that they were just mistakes, and she had at least some small hidden talent that had not manifested for some reason. Amanda had explained many times that magic developed in childhood, but Whit still hoped.

“Give me the phone.” The Director held out his hand.

Really? Reluctantly, Amanda passed it to him, worried about what he would do. He had the authority to order just about anything.

“This is Field Director Lucas Rodrigo. Who am I speaking to?”

“A-agent Timothy Marks, sir.” Whit saw the swift shift from angry man-in-charge to the cowed underling taking orders from someone much more powerful than he was. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. She was confident her girlfriend would come through for her.

She glanced at the weird dude again. He was still staring, now tilting his head, Whit a specimen to study. She felt her face twist and she quickly turned away. He had shaved the sides of his head very short, proudly exposing his scars. A true fanatic who couldn’t feel anything, just like all the ones who had those marks of utter devotion to A.R.C. She shifted her shoulder; she swore she could still feel his eyes on her.

“A... Sir.” The cop sank down into the chair again, deflated. “Yes, sir. Understood. Sir.” Obviously reminded once again that while officially the police were supposedly above anyone’s authority, it was really A.R.C. who ran things. He put the phone down and sighed, unhappy. He rolled the words around in his mouth before reluctantly telling her. “You’re free to go.”

Whit smirked. Awesome. She took a moment, savoring this chance. “Where’s my book.” The two men looked at each other. “The one I was reading to the children? It’s mine.” She again made sure to interject some boldness into the words. Her sass might not do much, but you had to do something to fight against them.

The creepy Enforcer gave a quick little nod, and the cop pulled out her book, tossing it onto the desk. Whit slapped her hand down on it, a patently false smile just for him. And a very repulsed one raking up and down the A.R.C. man as she spun in her chair.

She left the office, quickly walking to her things. Pepper, who had been watching the whole charade, followed quickly. “Whit!” She called quietly, obviously just as aware of the armed men still patrolling the library. What did they want? Another little boy to collar and haul away?

“Are you alright, honey?” Pepper stopped outside the desk cubicle, not putting her back to any of the intruders to their library. The front door was shut and locked, although the man with a rifle and SWAT gear planted in front of the doors was a bigger hindrance than either of those things.

“Fine,” Whit said shortly, the little trembling of her fingers giving her away, but she hid it by getting her backpack out. Perhaps she was more shaken up than she wanted to be, then she even wanted to admit to herself, but she needed to keep it hidden. This was one of those things that no one else ever needed to know. A weakness that someone could use to hurt her. So she instead carefully slid her fairytales into relative safety of cloth and zippers. It wouldn’t do much, but it made her feel better and eased a little of her quivering.

Pepper gently slid Whit’s yellow beanie across the surface of the desk, “Here you go. I was able to pick it up after they left the upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Whit said quietly. Truthfully, she hadn’t even been aware that she was no longer wearing it. It must have fallen off when she had protested them picking up the unconscious Omar. Where had they taken him if most of their team was still here? “Did they let the other kids out safely?”

Pepper nodded solemnly, concern creating a furrow between her eyebrows, but she kept her eyes trained on the men still occupying the office. “Once they checked all the other children for magical talent, they hurried them out of the library.”

Whit sighed and sank into the chair. “And Omar’s family? Will they be told?”

Pepper’s frown deepened, and she shook her head slightly. “They will be told something, but I don’t know if it will be the truth.” She glanced back to Whit, a strange glint in her blue eyes. “I will make sure that they get the unaltered story, though.”

Whit blinked up at the small woman, confused. If Whit didn’t know any better, she would have thought the sweet librarian… dangerous. Something Whit had never even considered. But then Pepper looked solemn and concerned once more, and Whit dismissed the thought. The stress of the circumstance was getting to her imagination.

Abruptly, the Enforcer and the cop left the office, their goon squad falling into step around them. Whit slowly swiveled her chair, carefully watching them as they swept towards the door. The cop, obviously still pissed and holding a grudge, didn’t look their way as he passed. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of the other one. Another studying stare from his fish eyes, and then they vanished out of the library. Forever, with any luck.

Both women let out deep sighs, relaxing. Pepper crossed to the doors and locked them once again, turning the cheery sign saying they were closed for the day. Maybe they should make one that was a little less happy, for days like this one. “Why don’t you take some time and head out for today, sugar.” Pepper said compassionately. “You have been through enough.”

Grateful, Whit snagged the strap of her bag. “Thanks, Pepper. You’re the best.” She asked before she made her way to the bathroom, “Are you sure you don’t need help with something?”

Pepper smiled slightly and shook her head, “No, I-“ She stopped abruptly, staring at something. Something that a shock.

Whit frowned and looked. The wall of magazines. With that look, she had expected another A.R.C. dude, or something, but no one was there. “Pepper?” Whit asked slowly.

The librarian slowly shook her head, “Sorry, sugar. Don’t worry about it.” She forced a smile. “I suppose I am more shook up by this than I thought. Go on,” she made little shooing motions with her hands, and so she went.

But why did Pepper look more scared just now than she had the entire time earlier?

#strowlers #fiction #fantasy #magic #modern day #seattle #f/f

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