#no mom i'm not forgetting to take them (at least i try) it's just that i'm a creep i'm a weirdo

[linalilia]

sorry for comparing my milgram and twst ocs again but the difference between what i make for them is just. so funny.

my twst ocs: ohhh maybe i should make something like a timeline for my oc ships!! like how they met, how their relationship developed and all of that <3

my milgram ocs: F L E S H D O O R

[cobrakaisb]

come one, come all

summary: percy jackson has finally arrived at camp half-blood, so why is he so shocked to see that people have genuine relationships here? aka, the four times percy thought you were dating luke, and the one time he actually asked. 

word count: 3.2k

featuring: percy pov!!, 4+1, vaping (again), sassy man apocalypse in the form of luke castellan, reader straight up not giving a fuck, percabeth crumbs (but you gotta squint)

author's note: i am so sorry for the delay with this one!! i was studying for finals, but now that i'm home from college for the summer, hopefully the updates will be more frequent 🤞

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hermes cabin, day one, early afternoon

“this is the hermes cabin, home to both his children and the unclaimed,” chiron explains, walking up to the very loud and very rambunctious building. 

percy peers inside, and he’s immediately filled with dread. there’s barely enough room in the cabin for the people that actually live there, let alone him. why couldn’t his father claim him already? if anything, percy thought losing his mother would have been enough; clearly it wasn’t. his dread only intensifies, however, when chiron starts clapping his hands, calling the attention of all the campers. 

“woah wait a minute,” percy mumbles, but it’s too late. 

“this is percy jackson, i trust you will see to whatever he needs,” chiron announces. 

it takes the campers approximately two seconds to go back to whatever they were doing beforehand. some campers’ eyes linger a little bit longer on him, but for the most part, they’re all indifferent to his presence. finding a spot proves to be difficult, as every nook and cranny is inhabited.

“you can sleep over there,” a girl says, annoyed.

“thanks,” percy mumbles, but it falls on deaf ears. 

the spot isn’t half bad, but it isn’t great either. he’s stuck in between two sets of bunk beds, on a sleeping bag. a sleeping bag. one would think the gods could splurge a little for an air mattress, but percy guesses they must be selfish, at least based on the signs of this cabin: overrun, overfilled, and underdeveloped. he’s unpacking his backpack, the last remnants of his life before his mom explained his paternal lineage, when the whispers start. 

“that’s the kid. i think he’s the one that killed the minotaur,” someone whispers, or at least they try to, but percy hears the whole thing. 

he turns around, and comes face to face with a group of older campers, all boys. they’ve clearly been here a while (in the hermes cabin, or at camp, percy isn’t sure) based solely on the fact that they’re so comfortable in this environment. a tall, curly black-haired boy steps forward, so percy stands up. he tries to size up the older boy, but if it comes to a fight, he doesn’t think he’ll win. 

“look, if you guys want to start something, can you just…do it tomorrow?” he asks. 

the older boy doesn’t say anything. instead, he just takes a moment to look at percy, up and down. percy’s breath catches in his throat when he catches sight of the long scar running from the corner of his right eye to his jaw. he’s intimidating, to say the least. 

“i’m..” the boy starts to say, but he’s cut off by the sound of loud laughter. 

percy turns to face the door, following the older boy’s lead, and sees two girls walk into the cabin. they’re both in workout gear, clearly just coming from a training session, but only one of them moves to drop her stuff on a bed — a bottom bunk in the left hand corner — and the other walks right up to the guy in front of him.

percy wants to warn her, tell her that she shouldn’t mess with this kid. but the grumpy guy smiles at her, completely forgetting about percy.

“busy day?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“something like that,” the boy mumbles, throwing a sideways glance in percy’s direction. 

“oh i see,” she answers slowly, and now both of their eyes are on him. 

“luke treating you okay?” she asks. 

percy gulps, unsure how to answer her. girls don’t really talk to him, but there’s a first time for everything, he understands that especially well now.  

“he literally just got here,” luke says, shoving your shoulder. 

you smile at the older boy, and there’s something more behind that stare, but percy can’t really figure out what. 

“if he steps out of line, you let me know,” she instructs, jabbing her thumb in luke’s direction. 

percy nods, “yeah sure.” 

she smiles at him, before walking towards the exit of the cabin. as she’s at the threshold between the inside and the outdoors, she turns around with a mischievous look in her eyes. 

“meet me later?” she asks. 

“i’ll be there,” luke answers. 

she nods, satisfied, and leaves. percy watches luke, who continues to watch her. his eyebrows furrow. maybe he just doesn’t understand teenagers?

hermes cabin, day two, morning

percy’s startled awake. the deep, guttural voice from his dream still haunting him. the darkness from the nightmare is looming over him like a dark cloud. his gasps and heavy breathing draw the attention of luke and his friends, the former leaving his bottom bunk to walk over to percy’s sleeping bag.  

“you okay?” luke asks. 

percy wonders if he’s genuinely concerned. “super,” he replies. 

“we all get them, y’know. deep, intense nightmares. comes with being a demigod,” luke explains, watching percy struggle to get up from his bed.

“so does adhd and dyslexia. they’re your battle instincts talking. everything that’s made you different, an outcast, is normal here,” luke continues to explain, now standing toe to toe with percy. 

there’s silence between the two. percy wants to ask him about his godly parent. it’s been weighing on him since he spoke with luke briefly yesterday. for some reason, however, he feels like the question is out of line, too personal for someone he just met. 

yet, he can’t help himself: “so are you also…do you not know…are you…”

“am i unclaimed? no, hermes is my father, but that doesn’t matter. we’re all family here,” luke replies, giving percy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“and the girl from last night…is she…?” percy asks. 

luke chuckles at his uncertainty, clearly finding humor in his embarrassing situation. “no. she knows who her mother is. you should ask her about it.” 

percy nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. he feels angry all of a sudden looking around the hermes cabin. it’s filled to the brim with campers, some who know who their parents are, and others who don’t. he doesn’t think anyone should have to live like this; it’s not fair. 

“how can the gods just bring us here and ignore us? how is that fair?” percy asks. 

luke shakes his head, “spend all your time trying to figure out why the gods do what they do and you’ll go crazy. besides, you haven’t even experienced the best thing that camp has to offer.” 

“what’s that?” percy asks. 

“glory.”

percy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. he vaguely remembers hearing mr. bruner, or chiron, talk about glory in class, but he can’t pinpoint the exact memory. the way luke talks about it, however, makes percy think that it must be important. there has to be some reason why everyone is fighting for glory, why they deal with all the dangers of being a demigod. 

“demigods used to fight for glory. they called it kleos. it attaches meaning to your name, making you bigger, scarier, and more important,” luke explains, leading percy outside of the hermes cabin, along with a handful of his friends. 

“it puts respect on your name,” luke’s friend, chris barges in. 

percy’s smiles at that. he likes the sound of glory, especially when some girl shoulders past him, pushing his body right into luke’s. percy stumbles, turning to face the back of the girl. he wasn’t going to deal with this bullying crap at summer camp of all places. 

“hey,” he shouts, getting her attention. 

she turns around, immediately shoving him into the ground. percy gasps, staring up at her in shock, but before she can get a word in, the girl from last night is standing in front of him. 

“knock it off clarisse. it’s like his first day,” luke mumbles. 

the girl from last night helps him up, and he smiles at her in thanks. she nods, giving him a once over, ensuring that he’s okay before she turns back to clarisse. it’s like a switch flipped inside her. those same eyes, the ones showing kindness towards him just a mere second ago, are now filled with cold, hard, anger. 

clarisse says something to taunt him, but the girl just shakes her head, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“jealous that it wasn’t you?” she taunts, stepping into clarisse’s personal space. 

“no,” clarisse snaps, facing the other girl head on. 

“really? cause it sounds like you wish you were standing in his shoes right now. maybe then daddy would give you a little bit of attention, huh?” she replies. 

luke whispers her name in a seething tone, hand pulling on her shoulder to move her away from clarisse. however, she jerks out of his grip, continuing to stare head on at the curly haired girl with a satisfied smirk playing at her lips. 

“you better watch your back,” clarisse snaps, looking at percy once again before storming off. 

“and you better watch yours,” the girl, who’s still standing in front of percy protectively answers. 

clarisse doesn’t respond, and so luke takes the time to reprimand you. his voice is soft, and percy can barely hear, let alone register, the words coming out of his mouth. you roll your eyes at whatever he’s saying, barely paying attention. instead, percy notices that your eyes aren’t leaving luke’s lips, and he’s again left wondering what’s going on between the two of you. 

“but if i wasn’t here, who was gonna play hero?” you ask, a soft pout on your lips.

percy can tell you’re teasing luke, trying to get a rise out of him, but the older boy just shakes his head in response. percy watches as your finger reaches under his bright orange shirt, looping through one of the belt loops of his cargoes. luke leans down slightly, and percy thinks he might kiss you, but you step away from him in a fit of giggles. 

“i’ll see you later, counselor luke,” you tease, walking backwards so everyone can see the teasing smile on your face. 

percy makes a mental note not to get on your bad side. 

dining pavilion, day two, evening

“is there a greek god of disappointment, maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” percy grumbles, taking a seat at the table across from luke and chris. 

after a long day of training, with little to no rewards, percy felt utterly defeated. there was some good that came out of the day’s events, however, as he realized his lack of coordination did not make him a strong candidate for the apollo cabin. similarly, setting fire to the already burning forges had luke and chris ruling out hephaestus. regardless, he just wanted his dad to recognize him. after a life of torment and the loss of his mom, the one person who loved him, he could use the validation.

luke opens his mouth, ready to answer his previous question, but chris beats him to it.

“oizys…but she’s a goddess and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s failure,” chris mumbles, pushing around the salad on his plate. 

“oh my gods chris, don’t scare the kid,” you shout, shoving his shoulder as you take a seat next to percy. 

another girl follows behind you, taking the seat on the other side of percy. he feels himself going rigid, why are these two older girls sitting by his side? he feels nervous all of a sudden, and wonders if this is normal. he looks nervously to luke, who seems to be the only one capable of providing actual guidance in these types of situations. 

luke doesn’t say anything, instead he’s too busy looking at you. 

“having daddy issues?” the girl on his right, who’s not you, asks. 

“um i guess,” percy answers, but he’s not confident in his words at all. 

the girl chuckles at him, a hand coming up to ruffle his blonde hair, and percy watches as her eyes twinkle with something akin to childish mischief. 

“maybe you’re her step-brother,” she says, gesturing towards you with a tip of her chin. 

“are you a child of aphrodite?” percy asks, because maybe this nice girl is referring to ares as his father. 

you stop chewing your dinner, shock crossing your features. the other three teens all burst into laughter, and percy doesn’t understand what’s wrong with his question. you’re pretty enough, and you seem to possess a tiny bit of mean girl energy (cause only regina george would have demolished clarisse like that). therefore, the logical conclusion is that you’re related to aphrodite. besides, aren’t ares and aphrodite secretly dating? so he’d be your step-brother? 

“what?” he asks, looking around. 

“aphrodite is not my mother,” you answer, white-knuckling the fork. 

“oh,” he says, “so who is?” 

percy watches as your jaw clenches, and you flash a dangerous look in luke’s direction. luke lifts his hands up in a state of defense, as if to say that he didn’t put percy up to this. you, however, don’t seem to believe him as you take one of the green grapes on your plate and chuck it at him. luke catches the grape in his mouth, chewing slowly with a smirk on his face. 

“almost sweetheart,” he taunts. 

you scoff before getting up from the table, with your plate, and walking towards the firepit in the middle of the pavilion. on your way over, you stick your fingers through luke’s curls, and shove his face down towards his mashed potatoes. 

“did i do something wrong?” he asks, looking at the remaining girl to his right. 

“nah, she’s always like that,” she answers.

“yeah,” chris mumbles, “if anyone knows it’s katrina.” 

they jump into their own conversation and percy watches as you drop your entire dinner into the fire pit. the flames turn a deep purple and you nod in satisfaction before walking off towards the cabins. 

he can’t figure out who likes the color purple, but wonders if it had anything to do with luke. however, he knows not to ask.

hermes cabin, day two, night

percy was supposed to be asleep twenty minutes ago, at least that’s when luke called for lights out and everyone crawled into bed. but, he really needs to use the bathroom. poor planning on his part, not going before bed time, but he knows he’ll never make it until morning. so, he gets up as quietly as possible, slips on his blue hoodie, and tip-toes towards the door of the hermes cabin. 

he hesitates for a moment, hearing two people talking quietly outside the door. he waits patiently, hoping that they’ll leave, but their conversation only keeps going. 

“and annabeth’s sure about this?” someone asks, and percy realizes that it’s you.

the other person scoffs, “you doubting my sister?”, and percy pinpoints the voice as luke’s.

“never. i’m doubting him,” you answer.

“c’mon, you know clarisse picks on everybody,” luke mumbles.

there’s a pause in the conversation, and percy thinks maybe you’ve left or moved on, but then your voice rings out into the quiet of the night: 

“i have this feeling that he’s important, but i can’t figure out why.” 

another pause. 

“we’ll see when he gets claimed,” luke answers. 

“if he gets claimed,” you reply. 

“he will, even if it’s hera style,” luke says, and percy can’t help himself from opening the door. 

“your mom’s hera? i thought she didn’t have kids!” percy shouts, shocking both you and luke. 

you jump, and percy watches as you move to hide the bright orange vape in your hand. you wave away some of the smoke, and luke steps slightly in front of you, blocking your body from percy’s view. he notices the protective edge in luke’s posture, and how there was already very little space between you two. 

“what are you doing out past curfew?” luke asks, staring percy down. 

“i could ask you the same thing, but for the record, i’m going to the bathroom,” percy explains, standing his guard. 

“just be quick, and watch out for the harpies,” you advise, tugging on the back of luke’s camp counselor shirt. 

percy nods before walking by the two of you to head down the stairs. once he’s a little ways away, he risks a glance back at the hermes cabin porch. you’re still standing there with luke, his palms resting on your waist as he rubs circles with his thumb on your exposed skin. you two are whispering about something, but he can’t figure out what. he sees you slip luke your vape, but looks away when the older boy takes a hit. 

that seemed oddly intimate. 

lakeshore, day three, post-capture the flag

he’s in for it now, at least that’s what he assumes when he sees half of clarisse’s spear in his fist. she screams loudly, and percy hopes that you’ll hear and come to his rescue. thankfully, his saving grace comes in the form of the head counselor of the hermes cabin. 

luke comes rushing down the side lines, holding the red flag high above his head. several people are following him, the entire blue team in fact, but percy can easily pinpoint you in the crowd. you don’t have a helmet on, which isn’t surprising to him; it fits your character. he notices how the baby hairs stick to your sweaty forehead, yet your eyes are bright and happy. this has to be the happiest he’s seen you. 

your eyes never leave luke, even as he accepts hugs, handshakes, and overall congratulations from the other members of the team. finally, after the novelty of winning wears off, and his siblings finally give luke some space, you walk over to him. you shoulder check him, causing him to stumble a little on his feet, but the happiness doesn’t leave either of your eyes. 

percy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. you’re mean to luke, but you’re also not mean to luke. 

“where’s my hug at?” luke asks, opening his arms wide for you. 

you snort at him, shoving him backwards with a firm hand on his chestplate. luke doesn’t seem to mind, however, as his smile widens and he pulls off his helmet. he shakes his head back and forth, letting his curls loose after being confined for so long. percy watches you watch him, bottom lip between your teeth. luke opens his mouth, ready to say something, but you prevent him from even doing so. instead, you grab onto the brown leather straps of his armor, and pull his lips down to yours.

all the campers ring out in cheers. some of them even clap at the display of affection from the two of you. 

“so they’re dating?” he asks no one in particular. 

“yes,” annabeth answers from beside him. 

he turns to look at her, understanding washing over him. you and luke are perfect for each other, balancing each other out. percy hopes he’ll find something like that with someone. he looks around camp, and his eyes land on annabeth, who magically appeared next to him. 

“hey wait…were you here the whole time?” percy asks her, feeling a little angry that she basically watched him get his ass kicked by clarisse. 

“percy,” she starts, “i’m really sorry about this,” and she pushes him into the water.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beeeeee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[leclerc-hs]

tachycardia pt.2 - cl16

pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au) summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated French (didn't really put french in this), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 1.5k author's note: hi!!!!!! did you miss me??? I missed all of you! sorry this is SO short but I wanted to post something in honor of reaching 2,000 FOLLOWERS!!! I love u all sm and I'm sorry this is kinda shit. I've been in a really bad writing funk recently but I'm hoping to get out of it. don’t forget to talk to me and don’t be shy I love to hear from all of you!!!! I will try to get the ball rolling on this series as soon as I can. I just kinda started it without even knowing where I wanted it to go so I'm kinda just winging it as I write with whatever comes to mind. if you have anything you would like to see happen in this series PLEASE don’t be shy and let me know I love to hear your thoughts and ideas!!!! xoxo taglist: @amalialeclerc @barcelonaloverf1life @charizznorizz @magicpancake @zabwlky1999

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AS YOU SIT across from your younger sister in the cozy confines of the café adjacent to the bustling hospital, you can’t help but marvel at the enigmatic workings of her mind.

“Is it really like that? Sex in the on-call rooms?” The question bursts forth accompanied by a hearty laugh, your body leaning forward in laughter. 

“How many times do I have to tell you no?”  You retort, meeting her gaze with an air of firmness amidst the playful banter. 

“What about in the locker room?” She presses further, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“No, and stop indulging in such ludicrous fantasies.” You respond, bringing your cup of coffee to your mouth, you pause before taking a sip. “You know well enough that I don’t engage in relationships with doctors.” A fleeting sense of contentment washes over you with the warmth of the coffee. 

She emits a deep sigh, deeply annoyed. “Are any of them at least cute?”

You feel your stomach churn as the image of Doctor Leclerc floods your thoughts. He’s far more than just attractive. You hesitate for a beat, staring at her wide, expectant eyes. “Yes.”

Her eyes light up almost instantly. “Who?”

“I forget. I don’t really know him.” Liar.

“What does he look like?”

“Brown hair. Very green eyes.” Your fingers twiddle with the napkin on the table, feigning disinterest.

She gives you a skeptical look as if she can read your mind and tell you’re lying. But she doesn’t push further. “When do you have to be back?”

You briefly glance at the time on the screen of your phone, “Shit.” Rising abruptly, you shove the chair back with a jolt, shooting your sister an apologetic glance. “I have to go. I’ll see you at mom’s this weekend?”

You’re already pushing the front door of the café open by the time you hear your sister half-shout, “Yes!”

-

You burst into your patient’s room, breaths coming in ragged gasps, cheeks flushed with exertion. You say a silent prayer to whatever higher power that he wasn’t here yet. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” 

Did you mention that this particular patient has a knack for hitting on you?

Your heart skips a beat, and if it weren’t for the already flushed hue of your cheeks, you’re certain the blush creeping up on your neck would be glaringly obvious.

“Mr.,” You pause to glance at the chart to double-check his name, “Mr. Hart, how are you feeling today?”

“Meilleur, now that you’re here.” Better. You curl your lips upward into a soft smile, jokingly rolling your eyes at his antics.

“Surely you’re sick of seeing my face, Mr. Hart.” You quip, reaching for a stool beside his bed while simultaneously checking his IV bags. “Today’s the day I think!”

Mr. Hart has been in the hospital for over a week, recovering from a surgery for a atrial septal defect.  

“Jamais.” Never. He insists, his head sinking back against the pillow as his gaze follows your every movement. “I’m so close to being able to ask you out properly.”

In that moment, a new scent permeates the air, distinct and alluring. Without even turning around, you sense his presence—the man who just breezed in behind you. Whether he heard the exchange or not, you weren’t sure, but the subtle shift in the atmosphere is palpable regardless.

“Mr. Hart,” His voice, deep and honeyed, washes over you, almost too sweet to be genuine. “Still stirring up trouble for our lovely nurses?” Despite the playful tone, you can sense an undercurrent of something morecalculated beneath his words. His presence radiates warmth, his tall figure looming beside you, close enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. 

“No,” Mr. Hart grins. “Just her.”

Doctor Leclerc’s smile remains fixed, but you catch the subtle clench of his jaw as you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Just stopping by to let you know that we might need to keep you for another night.”

The news catches you off guard; you were under the impression that Mr. Hart would be discharged by the end of the day. As if he could sense the questions brewing in your mind, Doctor Leclerc continues, his voice reassuring. “Just a precautionary measure. I assure you; we’ll have you cleared to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Hart hums nonchalantly, as if the prospect of another night in the hospital doesn’t bother him in the slightest. His attention remains fixated on you as you inspect the sutures on his chest, his fingertips grazing against your gloved hand with a deliberate touch. “Can’t complain as long as she’s the one checking on me.”

You let out a small laugh, but don’t say anything, as you stand up and remove the gloves to toss them in the waste bin nearby.  

“Mr. Hart,” Doctor Leclerc’s voice is unamused now. “You would be wise to refrain your hands from touching her again. Next time I won’t ask so politely.”

-

Pressed against a wall while in the presence of Doctor Leclerc seems to be a common occurrence nowadays. His tall frame blocking any potential onlookers from seeing who he had cornered.

“Dis-moi,” Tell me. His voice is low, lethal. “Do you flirt with patients often, hm?” 

“What is your problem?” You quip, your brows furrowed as you crane your neck back to look him in the eyes. 

“My problem?” He scoffs, leaning closer to your face, his lips thinned in annoyance. “My problem is that I have to stand there and watch a patient flirt with you,” He clicks his tongue in frustration, turning his head to look away for a brief moment. Giving you a moment, to take in the sharpness of his jawline, and the unshaven scruff that shadows it. “And you…” His voice trailed off.

“And I, what?” You pulled your lips into a slight frown.

“You smell like that,” His hands wavered around your body, in an exasperated manner.

“Smell like what?” 

As he shook his head in disbelief, a mixture of frustration and something deeper etched acoss his features. The disbelief seemed to stem from his inability to fathom that you were completely unaware of something soevident to him. It was that scent, the sweet floral scent that always accompanied you. It drove him mad sometimes. How it was almost the only thing he could focus on sometimes.

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he took a deliberate step back, as if needed physical distance to collect his thoughts.

Ignoring your inquiry, his gaze softened, the intensity in his eyes giving way to a gentler expression as they locked on yours.

Caught off guard by the swift change in his demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of whiplash from the abrupt shift.

“I wouldn’t say often,” you began, punctuating the order with a slight shrug. “It’s all harmless.”

His response was solemn, his voice carrying a weight of protectiveness that left no room for misinterpretation. “I don’t want them to put their hands on you ever again,” he declared firmly. “If you ever have issues, you can come to me.”

His words resonated with a gravity that made it clear he meant every syllable, his stance unwavering in its determination to shield you from harm.

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, acutely aware of the intensity in his gaze tracing the delicate curve of your neck.

“Moving forward, I will be the one to check on Mr. Hart,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of authority softened by a touch of concern.

With a deliberate motion, he extended his arm, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

The proximity of his touch sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the tenderness in his gesture catching you off guard, yet somehow soothing in its unexpectedness. Dr. Leclerc’s presence seemed to envelop you whenever he was near. As if nothing else in the world existed no matter the premise of the discussion, including the constant bickering you two always seemed to do.

“Will you be at James’ retirement party?” The question slipped from your lips before you could fully weigh its significance. Yet, deep down, you knew the answer matters more to you than you cared to admit. You found yourself wanting him to be there, though the reasons remained elusive, even to yourself.

Yes, he was an ass to you most of the time. But, for some reason you couldn’t really fathom, he was always in the forefront of your mind.

His head tilted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Though he would never openly confess, the idea of attending hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment. However, if there was even the slightest chance that you would be there, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. 

“Yes,” he replied simply, the single word carrying more weight than its brevity suggested.

You nodded slowly, as if processing his response required a deeper level of understanding. “See you there?” You ventured, the question hanging in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications.

He nodded, pulling his lips into the faintest smirk.

“See you there, mon lapin.”

[ayoogirlie]

Before I start writing angst, let's go with something pleasant. I just recently started reading and watching MASHLE which is why I don't knowe many characters well.

MASHLE MAIN 5 X GN!READER (separated)

Main 5 falling in love with you!

Mash

This one is oblivious. He doesn't realise he holds special feelings for you. I believe at first he could have though of you as sibling.

You're just as important as his father so why not? The three of you could be a fine family.

He would share creampuff with you... just like with others. Honestly, it would be difficult to notice he likes you in that way. This man is so indifferent or more like he forgot to train his face muscles.

The thing that betrayed his feelings is the fact that he has been following you everywhere like a little duckling his mom.

Whether you have classes together or not. If you had them together — he would sit with you or at least close to you. Some rather prefer to sit alone, which helps them focus. On the other hand, if you have separated classes, he would always escort you to the class and only leave after making sure you sat down.

Mash's main love language would be act of service. I don't find him as a touchy guy — he would respect your personal space. The most he would do is grab the snip of your sleeve to not possibly lose you in crowd. (I find it cute honestly, like he would be to shy to grab your hand, so he would be happy with bare minimum.)

Going back to act of services. I think you would have a special privilege — flavoured creampuff. Coffee, chocolate, strawberry, etc., whichever you want. This guy would take you to kitchen and make you bake them together. Unless, your cooking is hopeless and you can set the kitchen on fire, then you're simply watching him work and talk about the silliest things.

Mash would definitely listen to your rambling. Well, at least he will try to. At some point, he would pass out, if he was overflowing with many new information. Please, go slow with him.

When asking others for help with you, he first would try to figure things out himself. Only if he had no more ideas, would he ask his friends for love advices (most likely Lance or Finn).

This guy is so sweet yet so clueless. He loves you so clumsily and as a boyfriend he doesn't change his attitude much. He already treated you in special way. Well, maybe he'll get more intimate with you. I'll leave it to your imagination.

Finn

I simply adore this boy. His love is as innocent as he is. Literally, he would be all red and shy when he realised his feelings for you.

He would get nervous around you and every possible physical contact would make him explode. He's too focused to not make any mistakes in front of you, that he forgets to relax.

Well, it's not like he's always like that. His heart would explode at this point. There are some moments, when he is even sweeter than he is now. It's when you simply sit somewhere and do nothing, just enjoying your existence. He feels so calm that he wish those moments would last forever.

Finn likes DIY. So I bet he would make some for you, it might be jewelry, plushie or something more practical. Whatever you'll ask for he will do. (If it's in terms of his skills.)

If you ask him to teach you how to make some, he would be more than happy. Who wouldn't be happy to spend time with their crush?

He would carefully explain everything and help you if you have any difficulties with the project. Sometimes I wonder where he gets all this patience from. Whether you would get discouraged or curse how hard it is, he would try to calm you down and explain your mistakes.

When I'm still talking about teaching. Study session. I just see with my eyes of imagination. The two of you sitting in library beside each other and bending over books. It depends on you — whether he's teaching you some subject or you just enjoy your company.

Finn loves animals. I think, he would always tell you many random fact about them and won't stop talking, until he gets a hold on himself.

When he finally remembers himself, he will start apologising and feeling bad about being the only one talking. Then you kave to reassure him that you really don't mind and he can continue.

As a boyfriend, he treats you very well. People might say he's a perfect boyfriend material, but you can see how much he tries and I hope you do as much for him as he does for you.

Lance

Honestly, I can't imagine him giving someone else attention than his sister. Like this sis-con on has Anna in his head. So you can imagine how everyone was surprised when they noticed his unusual behaviour towards you.

And it wasn't some big change. No. It was more subtle. He was less strict with you than he is with others. Whenever you seemed sad because of his, sometimes mean, comments, he would apologise. (It took him a lot of courage to say this simple words.) He was more careful with his act to not sadden you.

I believe that after some time of knowing each other he would tell you about his sister and maybe if he happens to trust you a lot — about her illness as well.

He strikes me as a gentleman at some point. He would hold the door for you, help you with school work and follow you almost everywhere as if it was his duty.

Unfortunately for you, his sister will always be his number one, so unless you accept this fact, I don't think he will try to do anything with your relationship.

As well as it was with Finn, you two would have study session together. This guy is so clever that it would be stupid not to ask for help with the subject, spell or other thing you have difficulties with.

He truly admires you. You saw him in numerous embarrassing situations, for example when he was talking to Anna's pictures etc. Everyone' else would already start avoiding him. Maybe that's why he finds you as a perfect match for himself. Someone who wouldn't judge his behaviour and just accept his 'imperfections'.

Lance would respect your personal space and it would have to be you who initiates physical contact (mostly before your relationship). But he would place his hand on your waist with excuse not to let you bump into others.

He looks like the guy who would give other people, who are talking to you, nasty glare, when you don't look. It's not that he doesn't believe in his charm, it's just the fact that he doesn't like others being to close or touchy with you.

As a boyfriend Lance becomes more possessive and clingy. He would hug you from behind and gets touchy when you least expect it. Well, at least you're never bored.

Dot

It's easy to captivate this hot-headed guy's heart... if you're a woman of course. Male readers have it harder. But now we are talking about the stage he is already in love.

He would always boast to his friends about how he's going to marry you with no shame. Of course, always when you're absent. If by chance you will witness him saying it. He would want to hide under ground.

He would always scream at the person, you would give too much attention. He gets easily jealous, but he act like thata with every male that gets too much attention from others.

That's why you don't realise he holds any special feelings towards you. He still acts like he act towards women, so you don't think any special of the way he treats you.

I believe Dot would be touchy with you. Like put his arm over your shoulder or surprise you from behind. Honestly, if he would have ever touched you in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable, as a man he is — he would never forgive himself.

In his eyes, he gives you special treatment. He doesn't play pranks on you and even with Lemon in room, he always focus on what you're saying and so on.

After some time, he gets more obvious that others notice his strange behaviour. He always stares at you, daydream about you two being together. His eyes are always following your person.

When you're close, he catch himself on enjoying your fragrance. Later of course, Dot will blame himself as well call himself a pervert. But you cannot be mad at him. He just can't get enough of you.

If he only could he would almost always hold you in his arms and never let go, while being too scared you might run away from him.

He is energetic, so as a boyfriend he would take you to many places. Date? Let's go to amusement park, if not, we have many other options. Of course, sometimes you two have home dates, where you just cuddle and enjoy eachother company.

Lemon

Congratulations. You just won over Mash and captured Lemon's heart. This turn of event surprised everyone, like literally everyone, even Mash.

Lemon would act similar like she did while having crush on Mash. She would be so delulu and talk about how the two of you are engaged and all (in fact you aren't... for now).

She would randomly grab your arm and hug it. People got used to seeing you this way. The two of you walking through the corridor, you look like those couples who always stick close to eachother.

She gets easily jealous of other people you're close with, expect for Mash, Lance, Finn and Dot, since she knows they won't try anything with you. When she feels threatened by someone, she would get closer to you or (in most cases) panic.

She would definitely share Cupid Gummies with you. Like she would buy it and almost immediately run to you only to give you some. She thinks of it as a special bond between the two of you.

Lemon blush a lot around you, that's for sure. You get too close? With red as tomato face, she would slap you. She gets a little violent when nervous, it's the fact you have to accept. But who can blame her? She's so happy to have you around that she cannot control her actions.

She's like a ray of sunshine, which is why whenever you're sad, she will try to make you feel better. Sometimes when words won't help, she just sits next to you. She wants you to know she will be always here for you.

You would get a lucky charm from her. One reason is that to keep you safe, other is to have her close to you. While making a design she would try to match with your taste. Like when she made Mash creampuff plushie, she would make something similar.

Whenever she would have problems with spells, she would go to you. Perfect excuse to spend time together! In exchange, she would teach you theory you would have problem with.

As a girlfriend, Lemon is very sweet. She wouldn't have to find excuses just to spend time with you. You would be often seen together eating lunch or walkings around while holding hands.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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[atlabeth]

price of dreaming

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: luke's spiral and the part you play in it.

a/n: this is so sad i'm sorry. like it's just a couple thousand words of luke being sad with a cute little flashback and a percy mention to make it all more sad. i don't know what's wrong with me why did i start writing this series

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): pretty severe angst bc this takes place after hurricane's death and goes up to mid tlt. death ideation, minor descriptions of injuries, luke isn't the best person, just a whole lot of sadness.

Luke returns to camp two weeks after your death, nothing more than a shell of himself.                      

Half of his time was spent sitting in an interrogation room in a Boston police station, mumbling his way through questions he doesn’t know how to answer. It’s not every day that a teenage girl is found nearly ripped apart in the middle of a city with her boyfriend completely broken next to her. Two EMTs had to literally drag him away from you—at least, that’s what they tell Luke. Everything after your heartbeat stopped is a blur for him. He doesn’t really even know how he got to the station.

And that’s how it is for a while. He talks to detectives who don’t believe him, he stares at the wall and wishes you were here, he goes home with your mom. She’s being asked just as many questions, and she refuses to leave him out on the street or take him back to camp. She doesn’t understand that Luke’s done it all before. 

Eventually, the officers settle on a freak animal attack. It didn’t make sense for an animal capable of doing that to be in the city, but mortals see what they want to see. Luke is just thankful to be out of it. 

But he doesn’t know what to do next. There’s a huge gaping hole in his chest and in his life without you, and he doesn’t know how to live without you. Every time Luke closes his eyes he sees your face, and he hasn’t been able to sleep through the night since it happened. He only really manages to stay out when his body practically shuts down from exhaustion. 

Your mom treats Luke like a second son while he’s living with her, and it pains him more than anything. She asks him if he wants to stay with her, try and finish out the semester. He was surprised she still wanted anything to do with him. 

Luke declined. He loved your mom, but being in that apartment without you—walking past your room and knowing you would never be there again, seeing a space you carved out for yourself knowing the most integral part was missing—was just too much for him. The full reality of you being gone still hadn’t sunk in yet. 

He’s soured on the city of Boston as a whole. He’s felt your blood on his hands since the moment it stained his fingers, and for as long as Luke lives he will never forget the look on your mother’s face when she showed up at the police station. 

Your mom offers to drive him back to camp, and though he wants to say no to that as well, he doesn’t. Luke can tell that she needs a distraction, and he doesn’t really know how else he’s gonna get back to camp. They don’t talk very much on the way there, but neither of them burst into tears, so he considers it a victory. 

She parks at the bottom of the hill and hugs him so tightly he can’t breathe, but he welcomes any kind of feeling. 

“Stay safe, Luke,” she says, her hands on his shoulders. “And if you ever need a place to stay—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “And I’ll try.”

She nods a few times, and she blinks back tears as she looks up at him. “Thank you for everything you did for my daughter. For all those years that you kept her safe.”

It clearly wasn’t enough, Luke wants to say. If it was, he wouldn’t have lost you back then, and he wouldn’t have lost you now. But that wouldn’t help anyone, so he nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his throat still dry as a desert. 

“Always.”  

“I know how much you meant to each other,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry, Luke.” 

He holds back his emotions. “So am I.” 

Your mom nods again and they say their goodbyes once more, hugging one last time. When Luke reaches the top of the hill, he looks back to see her still standing there. He wishes he could do something to ease the pain, but he doesn’t even know how to deal with his own. 

Luke stops at Thalia’s tree, and he already feels that lump in his throat. 

“I hope you’re together in Elysium,” he murmurs. “I always thought you would like each other.” 

The beginnings of tears prick the back of his eyes and he clears his throat, shaking his head like it’ll help silence the millions of thoughts scattered around his brain. If Thalia lives on like this, he hopes your spirit is still around somewhere.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry I failed both of you.”

Nobody at camp knows. How could they? 

Luke wasn’t expected back until the summer, though, so his presence at the top of the hill is telling in of itself. Especially alone. 

He ignores everyone that tries to talk to him and gets to the Big House to break the news to Chiron. Thankfully, when he dissolves into tears, it’s behind closed doors. Chiron takes it in a saddened stride, and Luke wonders how many heroes have died in his lifetime. 

You have no siblings to make a burial shroud, so the Athena cabin takes up the responsibility. Annabeth invites him to take part, but he can hardly stomach the thought. 

It’s beautiful. They emulate the ocean through embroidery and Annabeth even gets a little Red Sox patch in. They let Luke burn it, and he’s amazed he even makes it through the ceremony. But the entire camp shows up, and there isn’t a single dry eye. He hopes you at least know how many people care about you. 

Chris takes over as counselor for the indefinite future, which is probably a good thing when Luke can barely muster the strength to get out of bed most days. He picks at his food when he’s able to make it to meals, and his prayers to Hermes have never felt emptier. He used to do one for Poseidon every so often, especially when you were at school, but the thought makes him sick. His eyes never stop trailing over to Cabin Three’s table. 

The Poseidon cabin is empty again. 

Luke doesn’t fully realize the path he’s taken until he’s standing in the doorway and the scent of salty air hits him. He’s so used to hanging out with you after dinner that he just went there automatically. 

It feels unfinished. It is unfinished. You had a whole box of things back in Boston that you wanted to bring back to camp to decorate. 

Your posters still hang on the walls—Blondie, Pearl Jam, Alanis Morisette. Fairy lights are falling down in the corner, and they’re unplugged. Luke had to remind you to unplug them before you left for the school year. 

You should be standing next to him, smiling and laughing and dragging him in behind you as you rant about capture the flag or the canoe race you definitely didn’t cheat in. He blinks away the tears building in his eyes and he takes a step back. 

You should be here. You’re not. 

(How many more times is he going to end up here chasing ghosts?) 

There are some things a person just can’t get over. 

And that’s how his days go. He barely manages to get out of bed, picks at meals that taste like sand, musters what little strength he has to lead sword lessons, endures pitiful looks and sympathetic speeches. 

Luke gets lost in the past more than he should, oftentimes sitting on the beach talking to you as he watches the waves roll in or sneaking out to the dock in the middle of the night to be in the company of the only person he can stand. 

By the time summer comes back around, Luke is sure of three things. 

He isn’t ever going to be the same again. 

You should still be alive. 

He won’t rest until he’s torn Olympus down brick by brick. 

-

“It’s quiet here,” Luke said.

“That’s what happens when you don’t have any siblings,” you murmured. 

His eyes trailed over to the door and you nudged him with your shoulder. “What do you keep looking over there for? Scared someone’s gonna catch us?” 

He shrugged. “We’re technically not allowed to be in here together.” 

“They can’t say anything,” you said. “We’re both counselors. And no one’s in this place anyways. Besides,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, “we’ve earned all the time in the world.” 

Luke smiled and snaked an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “You think so?” 

“We lost two years together,” you said, laying your head on his chest. “Far as I’m concerned, no one can say a damn thing to us.” 

“It always feels like we talk about the past,” he said. “What about the future?” 

“All I know is I want you in it,” you mused. You always loved resting on his chest because you could hear his heartbeat, could feel the slight rise and fall from his breathing. It meant he was alive, and after what you’d been through, that was more valuable than anything. 

“Obviously,” Luke said coyly. “I want you in mine too. But what about the details?” 

“We gotta finish high school first,” you said. “Have you thought about what I said?” 

“...Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s just been a while since I’ve left camp. Going back to school seems rough for someone who hasn’t been in classes since elementary school.” 

You shook your head. “Which is exactly why my school would be perfect for you. We left at the same age, remember?” You took his hand and began to trace the lines of his palm. “It took some getting used to, but I made it. If I can, so can you—and I’ll help you every step of the way.” 

Luke chuckled softly. “I’m a little worried about leaving Annabeth.” 

“Annabeth of all people would support you going for your education,” you said. “And it’s not like she’ll be on her own—everyone likes her here.” 

“...Talk me through it,” Luke decided. “Say we both go back for the school year. What does a sophomore year for the two of us back in Boston look like?” 

“Well, we’d be living together. We have an extra room in our apartment, and I’m sure I can convince my mom to let you take it.” You let out a sigh as you shifted, moving closer into Luke’s side. “We’d take the T together to school, but you don’t have to worry because I can show you around everywhere.” 

He chuckled. "I could use a refresher on Boston. Don't have the fondest memories there."

"We'll just make some new ones," you promised. “I’m on the soccer team, too. I was JV this year, but I’m gonna make varsity next fall—mark my words.” 

Luke rubbed your shoulder as he hummed. “And I’d come to every game.” 

“You better.” You glanced up at him with a smile. “You could try out for something too. I think you’d make a killing in basketball.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you not remember all those pick-up games we played when we were younger and bored? I was gods-awful.” 

“This’ll be different,” you insisted. “You’ll actually be sleeping on a bed every night, and eating consistently. I think that makes you a better athlete. Plus, you’re not three feet tall anymore.” 

Luke laughed as he intertwined your fingers together. “The star soccer player and the mediocre basketball player. We make quite a couple.” 

“You’d be better than mediocre,” you said. “Anyways—we’d play our sports and kill it, I’d introduce you to all the friends I made last year, I’d show you all around Boston, and I’d get you hooked on the Red Sox.” 

He leaned back against the headboard with a chuckle. “You’re really never gonna let this go, are you?” 

“It’s my sovereign duty to put you onto the Red Sox,” you said, “especially surrounded by all these Yankees. I’m gonna get you to a game one of these days. And after we kill sophomore year, we’ll kill junior and senior year.” You tapped on his chest for each year with your free hand, and his smile grew. “Then we’ll graduate high school together. With honors, and monster-free.” 

“You have such high standards,” Luke said wryly. “I’ve always thought I’d be lucky to pass with C’s.” 

“You haven’t always had me,” you mused. “And when we’re together, we can’t lose.” 

Luke smiled as he looked at your intertwined hands. “Y’know, I think your plan sounds pretty good. I’m pretty sure I could put up with school if it meant more time with you.” 

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Luke moved his hand to keep you there, and when you pulled away, a delicate blush painted his cheeks and pure love danced in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. 

You were the luckiest girl in the world. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

Luke offered a sideways grin. “For what?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

“Thank you, then,” he said. 

“For what?” 

“For sticking with me,” Luke said. “Through everything.” 

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” you murmured. 

-

The second year isn’t any easier. 

Luke is back to being year-round. There’s no point in going home—not when Connecticut hasn’t welcomed him in years. Not when he would just be another problem for your mother in the midst of her grief. 

So he stays at camp. Endures the pitiful looks from everyone, lies his way through attempted therapy with Chiron, trains more than ever before. No one seems to know how to treat him, because he goes from completely alone to swarmed with sympathy to completely alone again. It takes two months before his friends are acting like he’s a normal person again, and even then it still feels like they’re walking on glass. 

Luke can’t find enough inside of him to care. 

He practices with his sword until he feels like his arms might fall off, only narrowly avoiding the harpies each night. His siblings ask how he does it, why he does it, and he just says he wants to get better. 

But Luke refuses to let it happen again—not when his surrogate sister is all he has left. Not when he sees you every time he closes his eyes. 

His birthday comes and goes, but seventeen is empty without you. He replays your past conversations in his head, about traveling together and graduating together and maybe even going to college together. Demigods aren’t meant to think about the future, but he dared to dream with you. 

And the worst part was that you were right. You made varsity. You were in the middle of killing sophomore year, despite Luke struggling his way through with C’s and the occasional D—you had always been smarter than him. You got him out to a Red Sox game, and gods forbid, he actually enjoyed it. 

You were living the life you deserved, a life of happiness and success and with Luke, and you didn’t even make it past sophomore year. You were meant for so much more, and every day he questions why it was taken from you. Every day, he questions why you’re gone and he’s not. 

The year chugs on in all its misery, and for the first time since he all but rejected him as his son, Hermes appears to Luke. 

His father gives him a quest, and he takes it despite the inherent insult of it. Maybe some part of him hopes he’ll die out there and finally get to see you again. 

(Another part wonders if he’s even worth Elysium. Luke lost you once, then he lost Thalia, and now he’s lost you again. Some kind of hero he is.) 

He goes it alone. It takes him back to the first couple of months before he met you, and when the thought hits him, it almost overwhelms him. Everything makes Luke think of you, but it makes sense. He’s only living half a life—he’s missing the other half of his soul. 

Luke fails his quest. He manages to get a claw and he manages to nearly lose an eye. There’s no glory in a repeated quest, but there might be even less glory in this. 

And once more, Luke staggers back to camp as a victim rather than a hero. Someone only worthy of pity, someone so weak that Chiron bans quests unless they’re absolutely necessary. It takes weeks for the scars on his body to heal, and the mark on his face even longer. He becomes well-acquainted with the cycle of Apollo kids that take shifts in the infirmary.  

He feels nothing but disgust every time he looks in the mirror. After all, the claw marks ripping their way through his body match yours. Sometimes he wishes Ladon finished the job. 

It doesn’t make sense why, after everything, he’s still here. 

Luke can hardly stand to be at camp, but he’s got nowhere else to go. He gets better at hiding his emotions, better at acting like he’s gotten through it. New demigods show up and he’s not the bereaved counselor anymore—he’s not introduced with his grief. He hides it away.  

No one wants to deal with all the problems he’s racked up. His mom, his dad, Thalia, you.    He’s a demigod. Demigods are resilient. So he plays the part—he’s been through a lot, but he’s past it. He promises he’s not a burden anymore. He’s just a normal kid. 

And for a while, Luke is almost able to believe it himself. He’s never going to be over you, but he starts feeling like a person again rather than a ghost of one. He’s fully taken over the mantle of counselor again, and he’s actually present during sword-fighting lessons. He even manages to get a six-month-long capture the flag winning streak going on. 

And then Kronos appears in his dreams. 

Luke knows Greek mythology. It’s hard not to pick up a couple things when you’re fighting stuff from the history books, but they teach some lessons at camp. It’s nice to know what you’re up against before you die a brutal death. 

Kronos killed his father. He ate his children. Every wicked deed was done for power, and power is what he offers Luke. 

And maybe there’s something wrong with him, because it’s the first time he’s felt hope since he left Boston. 

Luke finally has an answer to something. He’s been silently cursing the gods for years, trying to figure out a way to tear everything down without getting himself immediately killed, and he’s got one. 

Kronos speaks to him most nights. He remembers the dreams you shared with him in your final year, all the restless hours spent sitting together on the fire escape as he soothed you. You thought Kronos was the reason for it, but he couldn’t have been. His dreams were nothing like yours. 

But still, Luke wonders every day what you would say if you were here, if you knew the treacherous path he’d embarked on. Kronos promised power, freedom, an end to Olympus and the reign of the gods. 

He doesn’t care about power. He just wants to hold you again. He wants to hear your laugh again. He wants to see your smile in more than pictures. 

But he can’t. And he wants to destroy everyone responsible for it. 

So he does everything the Titan Lord asks of him. He hones his skills even further, he lays low, and when the time is right, he steals Zeus’s bolt and Hades’ helm. Luke even nearly beats Ares when he’s caught, but Kronos doesn’t lead him astray—he speaks of divine war, and he gets out of it. 

He continues to see you. Kronos doesn’t lead him astray, but he punishes him for such a close call. Luke wakes in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving with labored breaths, and he feels your blood on his hands all over again. He sees you die over and over again and he can do nothing to stop it.  

You always told each other about your nightmares. 

That’s the hardest part of it all. You’ve always been so closely intertwined with Luke’s life since the moment he saved you in that aquarium years ago, and he can’t see any way to let go of you. He can’t—even though you’re gone, you’re still a part of him. His first instinct in any situation is to tell you, and it kills him that he can’t. 

And maybe things would have turned out different for Luke if you were still around. He’s never going to forgive himself for your death, and he’s certainly never going to forgive the gods. Thalia pushed him to the edge, but you were the breaking point. Luke is only nineteen and he’s loved and lost more than most.

Maybe things would be different if you were here. But you’re not, and they aren’t. So when a new demigod shows up, covered in monster dust and nearly dead on camp’s doorstep with Grover in tow, Luke doesn’t hesitate. 

He killed the Minotaur, and his mom is dead. Skilled enough to take on a quest, desperate enough to ignore a couple warning signs. Percy Jackson is the boy Kronos told him about. 

So Luke takes him under his wing. Shows him around camp, welcomes him to the Hermes cabin, trains with him one-on-one. 

Something about his spirit reminds him of you. It’s the grit, he thinks. The determination. The refusal to back down even when it’s the smartest option. When he asks about you that night in the Hermes cabin, Luke’s heart stutters. The kid is too sharp for his liking. 

It doesn’t take long before Luke manages to cement himself as one of his friends, maybe only third to Annabeth and Grover. He’s a lost kid that’s been thrust into a world he doesn’t understand, and Luke is the closest thing to a rock most campers have got. 

It’s supposed to just be a guise, but sometimes, he forgets himself. He likes Percy too much—he just feels too much like a younger brother, and that’s not really good for the already growing guilt in his chest. 

Maybe it’s because Luke sees himself in Percy. Someone playing a part he’s not aware of, an unfortunate pawn with no choice in the matter. Luke tries to push it away. Kronos wouldn’t lead him astray—this was the path he had to take if he wanted anything to change. 

But it’s not like that makes it easier. Because gods, Percy has never looked more like a kid than when he’s suited up in armor for capture the flag. It almost makes Luke regret the plan he has to enact. 

Almost. 

Annabeth has a plan as usual, and thankfully Percy plays the part of bait. Luke tunes out of everything else and lets his battle senses take over—things have already been set into play, and now all Luke can do is hide in plain sight. Soon enough he’s got the red team’s flag past the boundary line, and he’s hoisted up onto his teammates shoulders. Luke is almost able to forget what he’s done. 

…Almost. 

A howl rips through the forest, and the hellhound Luke summoned after the start of the game launches itself at Percy. He’s on the ground before he knows it, the flag forgotten in his hand as he rushes over with the rest of the campers. 

For some ungodly reason, Annabeth tries to step in front of him, but she’s thankfully too slow. The monster swipes at Percy and its claws shred through his armor. For a split second, Luke is back in Boston and his chest stills.

Chiron solves the problem with a cluster of arrows, but the camp is in immediate disarray. Clarisse instantly accuses Percy, Annabeth is trying to make sure Percy doesn’t die, and Luke just hopes his shock is believable enough to hide his annoyance. He’s just a scrawny kid—how the hell is he still alive? But then the unthinkable happens.

Annabeth tells Percy to step back in the lake. The instant he’s in the water, what should have been a fatal wound starts to heal. 

And then a glowing blue trident appears above Percy Jackson’s head. 

Luke feels sick as he lowers himself to one knee with the rest of camp. As the hellhound he summoned melts into the shadows, as he stares at the sacrificial lamb of a demigod meant to unknowingly enact his plan. 

“Poseidon,” Chiron says. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

Your brother. 

[hectorthedoggo]

I will put this in ao3 and edit when i have the means to. but. @kani-miso it's 0009 sibs i thought of you and decided to make this 🎀🎀

UPDATE I ACIDENTALLY DELETED THE TAB WITH MY EDITS AO3 is going to kill me

“Alright. Milgram's up.” The creature stayed. Es stayed frozen from where they were sitting on the couch. Oh God. What's the consequences of my verdicts?

Wait. Up? This is Trial 2?

They disregarded that. It must be a mistake.

If these verdicts even are mine, I can’t tell. I've been dreading this. I'm scared. They clutched their arms, trying to gain some warmth, some friction, for what was to happen next.

Jackalope narrowed his eyes at them. “A nervous one, aren't you now. Anyways, so since the administrators decided that you were too unstable, you'll go free. Congrats.

Oh yeah, and the verdicts didn't really have consequences, it was just a little social experiment. It doesn't matter. Good luck surviving in the real world!”

What. What the heck is he talking about? “Wha- What do you mean- Who's the admin- wah!”

They felt a pulling sensation, and suddenly, they were standing in a Walmart™ parking lot. The only other person nearby was Mikoto Kayano.

But, nobody was dead. He was in his original clothes, but. Wait, where are we? What's this big sign that says ‘Walmart’?

What is a Walmart, and where the hell did Milgram go?

They also had a little pack with them, and upon opening it, there was a little message printed out. Nothing else.

‘mikoto is your legal sibling btw. gl lmao be glad I even gave you this note ur probably my favorite warden - Jackalope (professional child neglecter)’

At least the pack looked cool looked cool…

Es was about to have a mental breakdown. Why did Milgram leave me like this? Is this what I am to them?

“Woah, what happened?” Mikoto wondered, “Hey, Es. Did you do this? Is Milgram over? Did they identify it to be a mistake?”

They started shaking. They threw me out like garbage. I…

“Es?”

They sniffled at the situation. I’m… garbage. Because, as my usual logic says, I am what Milgram deems me to be.

“I- I have no idea…” they extended the last vowel to emphasize how little idea they had.

They threw the note on the ground --- or at least tried to, it just flew away, right into Mikoto’s hands ---, and started to sob.

The tables had turned. Mikoto looked like he knew why he was here, Es didn’t (nande boku ga koko ni iruyo). It was genetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto had gotten the note, and he read it. “Wh- huh?”

He stared over at Es. “Es, this is a mistake, right?”

“That is the least of my worries right now, pudding boy!” they snapped at him, instead channeling their sadness into aggression.

He completely disregarded their feelings, to the point where he might not have even heard them. “Right… my mom did mention that our father got remarried. Wah, Suu! You’re my little sib!”

He went up to their grieving form, and gave them a little fistbump, lifting up their unwilling arm to do so. Why did he do that? Last time we touched, John was beating the shit out of me.

A random car pulled up into the Walmart™ parking lot, and the window unrolled. 

It was a woman with brownish hair, who looked like Mikoto. “Oh, you’re the other sibling that your father was talking about. You two can just get in the back in the car, your sister’s taking shotgun. Nice to meet you!”

Why the fuck does Mikoto’s sister have a shotgun? Are they all like this?

Mikoto followed in with them, and buckled in. Es had no idea what was going on.

They could not find the seatbelt, too busy processing the upheaval of their life in the past 5 minutes.

“Yo, sib. The seatbelt’s over there.” Mikoto smiled and gave a thumbs up, like a reliable older brother. “I saw it.” I did not see it.

They touched it, and got stung by the heat. Their, wait, no, Mikoto’s sister turned back at their sound of pain, turning off her phone. “Ah, yeah. It’s summer, don’t touch it.”

They scowled, forgetting their dread in the face of the overheated car seatbelt.

The car chimed, and the keys jingled. “Alright, folks! You two seem pretty tired from wherever the heck you disappeared to. Would you wanna go home, or get some ice cream?”

The sister turned around, and smiled a little wide. “My dear siblings, do you know the answer? There is a correct one.”

Es scowled. “What the fuck is an ice cream. Why is the cream ice?”

“Are you serious?” She scrutinized their face, finding the truth, “Step on it, Ma.” She went back to her phone, probably texting her friends about this weird kid in a warden outfit that was apparently her sibling now.

Mikoto looked over at Es and shrugged, like a comical cartoon character. Like a ‘what can you do?’.

I won’t allow these insolent- wait, these aren’t prisoners. Unless the sister girl did something with that shotgun of hers. It would run in the family, I guess.

Wait, that would mean that I’m also violent. Nevermind.

The 11th cell came to mind, and they dismissed it. Wrong kinda fic, buddy. We staying fluff here.

“So, Mikoto. And, what’s your name?”

“Es. I think?”

The woman put on her strict mother voice. “... okay. Mikoto and Es. What was so important that you had to completely disappear for like a years. No note! Job gone! You could’ve died, for all I knew! Es, sweetie, I’m sure it was Mikoto’s fault. He’s such a bad influence.”

Es raised their hand to ask a question, slightly flustered from the pet name. She indicated that they could speak.

They decided to just reveal it all. “Um, Mikoto committed murder… eh, Mikoto, he has DID and was stressed from his job, hence the murder. And I was the warden of the prison that held him and 9 others.”

Mikoto lost all of his composure at all of his darkest secrets being revealed, the dramatic guy he was. “What… Es, don’t… I… that’s not… I don’t have DID? I was doing… I was doing just…”

He seemed a little overwhelmed at the prospect of having to unpack all of the luggage that Es laid out, so another guy came out. “I am not straight. Oh- sorry, hi, I’m John. I’m the guy who totally committed the murder 100% trust guys c’mon vote mikoto innocent 2024-”

I already had to deal with that yapping last interrogation. Es shut him up with their hand. He waved it away. “If you’re gonna say that shit about Mikoto, Es hasn’t been going to bed at a healthy time or eating healthy.”

They were betrayed at his reveal. “I can’t believe you.”

“We’re going to fix that, Es. You’re going to get the regular kid treatment.” The mother nodded, eyes steeling. Oh no, not the normal teen treatment!

John had some other stuff going on behind there. Maybe Mikoto’s cheesiness had rubbed off on him. “As soon as we get out of this car I’m giving you a hug.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

Speaking of unwarranted physical contact. “Oh yeah, mo- Mikoto’s mother, um… John beat me up in Trial 1.”

“SNITCH?!”

“What’cha gonna do about it?”

“Give you another hug.” He deviously grinned, knowing that wasn’t the answer they expected or an answer they liked.

“I won’t allow it.” But, they weren’t the warden anymore. They couldn’t deflect affection as well as they used to.

The sister was unbothered by this discourse. Perhaps it hasn’t quite set in. “I guess I got two extra surprise siblings. Cool.”

-

When they got to the ice cream store after a prolonged amount of awkward silence, the moment the car doors opened, the chase was on.

Es nearly ran into oncoming traffic to escape any chance at being loved, as one does, but John grabbed them and lifted them up by their elbows, giving them a hug once they were out of the street.

“Jeez, you’re light. C’mon, we’re getting ice cream and you aren’t gonna kill yourself.”

“‘M not!” They kicked their legs to try and get the man off of them. But, they had about the strength of a 5 week old kitten compared to him, without the claws.

He plopped them down, Es seething about their lack of power they had here.

The sister turned off her phone, finally, and turned to Es. “Okay, I just wanna make sure. Were you joking earlier about not having ice cream before?”

“I’m the prison warden of Milgram, I don’t need-”

She interrupted them before they could start monologuing and crying about how Milgram didn’t exist anymore. “You’re getting Birthday Bash.”

“What- but it’s not my birthday?” It could be, for all I know, but she’s doesn’t have to know that.

“Ok, what is your birthday?” Dammit.

“Great question!” Es stared into space, tone full of sarcasm. Milgram never tells me shit.

“Mikoto or whoever the hell you are, do you know their birthday?”

“Nah.” John responded. “By the way, um, this kid was the one who named me John, because they thought it would be funny to be a know-it-all and reference some English name.”

She looked over at Es. “No offense, but you suck at naming. I think we were all thinking that.” We…

Es tried to defend their horrible naming skills. “What?! Who else was gonna name him?”

Mikoto’s mother decided to join in the conversation, but left after putting her two cents in. “Me. Or Mikoto, since he’s where John came from.”

John smirked. “See, Es! But the name has stuck, so you owe me.”

Es crossed their arms, huffing. “I don’t owe you anything. You beat me up that one time, so if anything, you owe me!”

He couldn’t exactly find a defense for that, so he took their hat off their head and held it as high as he could reach, exposing their hat hair. “Hey!”

They jumped to get it, but to no avail. They looked pathetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto’s mother and sister had already gone in to order. Order, like what a judge says?

It’s all a law reference.

John grinned. “You're a silly little creature, Suu.”

“You're not Mikoto, stop that.” I do not like that weird ass nickname.

He put on an innocent face. “What do you mean? I'm Mikoto, and I love my company so much! Hahaha, I would never commit murder. This must be a mistake!”

Es was somewhat surprised. “That's stuff he actually said in his first trial, how did you get it so accurately?”

“I hear this guy's internal monologue.”

That’ll do it. “Ah.”

 He threw their hat into the air while they were distracted, and they stepped back in surprise. He caught it. “Nice hat.”

“Get away from-”

The rest of the family brought over ice cream, and Es was handed a mash of colors in theirs that seemed unnatural.

“Is this food?”

“Eat it.” John asserted.

They shrugged. If this is poison, at least I don't have to worry about Milgram and all that stuff.

Worst case scenario, it doesn't kill me and it tastes bad. I'm not sure what my best case scenario is. Dying? It tasting good? We’ll see.

They bit down on the food with aggression, and it tasted… amazing, other than the fact that it was cold.

���What the heck is this? In a good way?” They temporarily forgot about their slight suicidal ideation.

“Bro has never heard of the wonders of overly processed foods…” the sister commented, smirking.

Why is she calling me bro? Huh? If I question her, will she bring out the shotgun? I'm scared of her. She’s my older sister now, isn’t she…

To be honest, Kotoko was scarier. I’ll be fine.

She wasn’t addicted to her phone, though… wait, right. Kotoko kinda was.

They grinned, and momentarily forgot their troubles in the face of their action. I’m so much better than these people. This tastes good. Mmm… ice cream… I like it…

They did get a brain freeze, and brought their hand up to their forehead in pain.

They got their head patted by John, who had somehow consumed his (larger serving of) ice cream. “Do you want the rest of that?”

“Yes?” They answered.

He grabbed a spoon, and took a bite of their ice cream. “Wow, this tastes nice.”

Es disliked the younger sibling experience. “Give me my hat back. I didn’t forget about that.”

“No.” However, he made a mistake: it happened to be in grabbing range. They quickly snatched it, and grinned in pride.

But, while they were distracted with John, they forgot about their other older sibling, who took a sizable amount of their precious ice cream.

I just discovered ice cream. Will they stop stealing it?

-

They were next in a car, making sure to avoid the seatbelt this time. About ⅓ of their ice cream had been usurped, and they didn't have the strength to defend it.

But, it wasn’t that bad. These people are nice…

I… I guess this is my life now? It’s not that bad.

Finally, there were no catches to this fact.

They would have to buy new clothes, the warden outfit was scratchy.

[brucewaynehater101]

Space Emperor Tim decides to take a break from Earth. He fills out the paperwork that he developed as Robin for official on break status. He fills out the paperwork for vacation from WE. He finishes his active cases and very valiantly restrains himself from taking up new ones. His version of vacation reading is a file cabinet of cold cases so he puts those together for his personal entertainment for his vacation. He sublets his civilian apartment. He makes rigged bets with Jason, Dick, and Stephanie to get them to watch over his part of Gotham while he's gone.

Then he, Kon, Cassie, and Bart jump in the spaceship and head for the empire. They have new costumes to show off and laugh at one another about. They are going to decompress and Cassie will be searching the empire for a therapist for each of them. While she understands Tim's reluctance, Gothamite, she would like the team birb to at least get some healthier coping mechanisms figured out. She would honestly like all of them to have some better coping mechanisms.

The thing is though that Tim never actually, verbally told anyone he was going anywhere, much less leaving earth. The only one who did actively let anyone on earth know was Cassie, she told her mom and she let Greta, Anita, and Cissie know. All four have been promised souvenirs. Mrs. Sandsmark let Diana know that Cassie would be on vacation and unavailable for hero things for a bit. Kon is distant from the Kents, if they even know he exists given Clark's hot and cold attitude towards him, but to be polite Kon left a letter for Ma and Pa that he was going on vacation with his team. Bart's guardian situation is also very up in the air so he didn't bother to tell anyone. All the Bats are in the dark. Only Young Justice even knows that Bart has a spaceship. And turns out that Tim is the only one who uses his official on a break paperwork. And Bruce never read any of his (very edited) reports from his time with Young Justice.

The first clue that the Bats get that Tim isn't actually there in Gotham is from a reporter who asks Brucie how Tim is doing on his vacation?

Meanwhile Tim and his life partners are touring the empire and they've added another planet. And there's an imperial design contest for the best palace for the empire because the empire is hoping that if their baby has his own home here in the empire instead of living out of his ship or using the residences of their former leaders, he might stay for longer periods of time or be there physically more often. Tim is trying to discourage the palace thing as a waste of resources and get people to design gardens instead. Bart may or may not be conspiring with scientists to create a Death Star without the planet destroying capabilities as his own entry to the imperial palace contest. Kon is making sure Tim doesn't notice Bart's plans by dragging Tim through markets and looking for the best examples of ugly-cute baby emperor and consorts merchandise. So far the winner is a set of dishes and each piece has what is presumably their very stylized faces on them. Cassie is taking her turn of being the imperial bodyguard and making sure none of their fans get too overzealous. She is absolutely getting the dishes for the people back home.

Fuck. I love this so much.

Also, referring to YJ as Tim's life partners??? Yes. Absolutely. Idc if people ship them or just see them as a queerplatonic poly relationship. They are for sure life partners. That's the most adequate description for the four of them. Even if some of them choose to date some of the others, if they all date each other, or none date each other, they have a very special bond. No matter the distance or time apart, they are life partners. Gods, I'm vibing with that description so much.

Anyways, Tim being the only one to fill out his vacation/time off paperwork makes so much sense. I also hc that half of the reason he "hides" so much is just that he forgets he has to inform people of shit. He's so used to not telling people what's going on with him that he legitimately gets surprised when they get mad or worried at him because of it. He also goes out of his way to keep tabs on his loved ones and doesn't quite understand why he would need to inform them since they don't need to tell him about their plans. For this hc, I think that YJ had some bumps with this tendency of Tim until they worked out that they just need to ask him. They have a gc where they will ask Tim questions to keep everyone up to date.

Also, hell yeah to the merch and plates ideas. I wonder how YJ is going to explain where they got plates of the core four's faces (since some folks, perhaps Dick, will ask where to get more).

If Tim did request for gardens, I'd love to see what different ones look like. Since they are alien planets, they probably have different ecological systems. They would also have separate ideas on what's considered "beautiful" or worth keeping in a garden-like exhibit.

Thank you for also going in-depth on Kon, Bart, and Cassie's backgrounds. It was cool seeing how they communicated with their respective social groups

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Wait, did you just say you want me to detransition?" Abbie's eyes lit up, her five-inch cock stiffened in her hands, trying to hide it from her step father.

"Well, I've been talking to your mother a lot, and I know you've been living as a girl for god knows how long, since you were how old?"

"Pretty much all my life?"

"OK, so I doubt you know much about being a boy, and I understand your mother and I have only been dating a few months, but Abbie, come on. How long are you really trying to keep this up? You're just so clearly not a girl."

"Oh? Am I not? What makes me a boy?" She stuck out her fake tits, slightly rubbing her barely hidden cock.

"You ogle other girls every time we go out together."

"Duh, I'm a lesbian! Didn't mom tell you?"

"No, I mean you perv on them. What do they call it, the male gaze? You stare at their breasts, their asses, you eye up pregnant girls like crazy."

"Pregnant girls are hot!"

"Yeah but you stare and stare, you fondle your, uh, you-know-what, through your clothes. I've caught you touching your titties too when you perv on girls."

"So? I'm just really horny is all....."

"And you make lewd remarks, talking about how badly you want to see other girls naked or touch them. You straight up mumble about how you wish your, uh....."

"My cock, Daddy?"

"Not really comfortable with you calling me that yet but yeah. Your..... cock. You mumble about how you wish it was big enough to get girls pregnant. Or if they're already pregnant I've heard you comment that you wish it was big enough to break their water. You also talk about sexually assaulting girls a lot."

"That makes me a boy?"

"Sure as shit don't make you a girl, dude. You talk about how you wish you could grab this girl's breasts or touch that girl's ass, or smack some poor pregnant girl's belly! It's kind of messed up. Every time we go out you point out every hot college girl and talk about, well, basically ripping off their clothes and having your way with them."

"So? Just trying some father-son bonding is all."

"See, you said 'son', not daughter!"

Abbie giggled, jiggling her fake tits. "Oops, slip of the tongue! So because I want to grab pretty girls' breasts and smack their gorgeous baby-filled bellies you think it's a good idea I should stop being a girl and be pumped full of testosterone? Gosh, I don't know what I'd be capable of after that....."

"And I can help walk you through your urges as a man. But you need to cut this girly crap out and stop taking estrogen right away. I've convinced your mom to call your doctor and have you put on testosterone?"

"Is that why you barged into the restroom? To force me to detrans? Mmmmm, kinky." She bit her lip.

"You are such a perv, I'm glad I've finally made your mama see the light. And I didn't barge in, you left the door cracked as you sat on the toilet naked watching pornography on your phone so loud I can hear it downstairs. You already had cum on your hands when I walked in, so you came, and just kept tugging on that little cock of yours?"

"Of course! I need to cum at least four times in a row or else I'm not satisfied! I am sorta greedy..... But is it wise to make a pervy masturbation addict like me into a boy? The local girls are about to forget what it's like not to be pregnant...."

"Jesus. You don't even try to hide what a guy you are, not that you pass very well. Your mom even told me you can do a perfect girl voice but you watched trans porn stars to learn how to sound like a boy poorly imitating a girl's voice. You really don't even pretend to want to pass or be a girl."

She bit her lip. "Do you.... really think I look and sound like a man? I don't pass as a girl at all, do I?"

"No, not one bit, I don't think anyone could mistake you for a girl, you---oh Christ, Abbie."

Abbie rolled back her eyes, moaning in a fake 'male' voice fondling her cock, shooting a few loads into her hands. She licked up the cum off her hands right in front of him, letting go of her cock. "Mmmmm, delicious. That's cum number four, but I'm still not satisfied. Wanna punish me for being bad?" Abbie spun around, spreading her ass cheeks. "Show me you're the man of the house and make me regret pretending to be a girl all these years. Fuck me, Daddy."

"I'm not going...... oh shit, your mama won't be home til dinner." He undid his belt, pulling down his pants.

Abbie gasped at his ten-inch cock, fully erect. "Wow! No wonder my mom like you. No wonder she's agreed to detrans me after only a couple months..... I'd worship that cock, too, if I was her. Please, Daddy! Please fuck me! Make me beg for forgiveness for pretending to be a girl!"

He rammed his cock into Abbie's ass, grabbing her tits. "Goddamn you're a total freak. I can't wait to pay to have these disgusting porn boobs removed. You look ridiculous. Is this supposed to convince people you're a girl?" He slapped on of her breasts hard.

Abbie yelped in pleasure. "No..... I'm just a pervy boy who loves big tits. They don't change how obvious it is that I'm male. Nothing can! I can't wait to detrans and get a big cock like you, Daddy! Mmmmm, I'm going to make you proud and force fuck so many girls! I can't wait to finally live my fantasies and be a real man at long last! Yes! Fuck me harder!"

"God you're such a sexy little mess, I can't wait to see you go through male puberty and watch every girly thing about you vanish into thin air. Not that anyone had trouble telling you were a boy before. It's just so obvious you aren't a girl."

"Fuck yes! Fuck-fuck-fuck! Thank you for convincing mom to detrans me! This is a dream come true! Fuck! I can't wait to be the biggest perv and scumbag imaginable. I promise to work out and get extra strong so no girl can possibly get me off them! Finally! I'll be able to get all the pussy I want, grab all the big jiggly titties, spank all their fat bubbly asses, and beat up their baby-filled bellies and pretty faces!"

"Good boy, now whimper like a dumb little princess in your girl voice one more time, just so I can destroy this girly bubble butt of yours."

"Yes! Please violate me, ruin my holes! Cum in my ass and do whatever you want to me!" Abbie moaned in her perfect girl voice, drooling from the mind-numbing pleasure of getting fucked, cumming over and over, and picturing the man she'll be in only a few short months.....

[justphilia]

Rating Dungeon Meshi Characters Based on How Well They Can Take Care of Me When I'm Sick

Scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best. Precaution I have bias for women.

Laios - 7/10 He'll definitely try his best, but he's not very good at it. Achieves the bare minimum of keeping me fed and making sure I take my meds, but most of the time he wouldn't really know what to do to help more. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I see him staring at me with his autism eyes through the gap of my door.

Falin - 9/10 Practically my bedside nurse. Checks my temperature every so often, makes sure to keep my forehead cool. She makes it possible for me to be glad I'm sick, though I am not sure if she knows how to cook. Fortunately, too ill to gaf. Also it's Falin.

Marcille - 9/10 She will think I am dying and because of this she's desperate to help me recover. Heh. I love the attention. But I think. I THINK. she may not know what she is doing about a quarter of the time. She'll read the instructions on my meds like 5 times before giving it to me. She'll research what kind of foods is good for speedy recovery. She'll forget to wring the cold rag before putting it on my head, and every time I fall asleep she thinks I passed away.

Chilchuck - 6/10 Like my dad. "Don't forget to take your meds." Feeds me porridge for lunch and dinner. I don't see his face like the whole day, but I'll be unsure if it's because he's purposely checking in on me when I'm knocked out or he just doesn't want to bother me at all. I can't ask, because he wouldn't answer honestly (he's embarrassed).

Senshi - 8/10 I feel like he's gonna be like my mom and feed me herbal medicine and home remedies. My recovery will be slightly slower, but I'll recover. I will be eating soooo good, 'cause he'll definitely put a spin on every meal meant to help me recover. He sits by my bedside and does his own thang while I sleep, or talk about what he put in my food as like a bedtime story. When he goes to the toilet, I cry.

Toshiro (without his retainers [not including Izutsumi]) - 4/10 Porridge is simple enough to make, I think he is capable of that at the very least. I think he'd make sure I drink enough water, and will ask if I've taken my meds yet. But that's all his efforts and capabilities. I wouldn't blame him. He wears a mask when he enters my room.

Toshiro (with his retainers) - 9/10 Maizuru alone bumped the score by three points because she'll make sure to help Toshiro keep me well fed. But because she's only helping me for Toshiro, she wouldn't go all out with the care. It's okay, their company is enough. I will most likely think I died and went to heaven. They all are wearing masks under Maizuru's order—don't want them catching it and spreading it to Toshiro.

Izutsumi - 2/10 It may be over for me. But if she sleeps at the foot of my bed the entire time and gets me packaged food and water when I ask, I'll live.

Namari - 8/10 Idk. Like! Idk! I think she's gonna be like Laios about it, like she really tries her best, but she's unsure. She's like a combo of Laios and Chilchuck—she can make me food and make sure I take my meds, but I would hardly see her throughout the day. Sometimes she'll come in and ask if I need anything, and if I ask her to stay she'll linger at the doorway then step inside. When I wake up, she may be gone.

Kabru - 7/10 I kinda...don't want him here.....like....I like his face and everything, but I feel. scared. at the thought of being sick and him taking care of me. Might be the blue eyes. Nevertheless, he's able to make sure I don't get worse. He can cook and will help me take my meds, put a cool rag over my forehead, and keep me company until I fall asleep. "I guess you owe me one!" he'll laugh lightly as my fever-fried brain stares at him, and I won't know if he's serious until he tells me so.

Mithrun - 1/10 I am Gone but also he's very attractive so I think I'll die happy.

[aishnico]

I'm thinkinggggg....maybe something angsty to fluffy with Slash?

#𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃: 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳

» summary: you were tired of your boyfriend’s drug habit, so one night you asked him to choose between you and his habit. when he left you without an answer, you went to let all these things out of your head.

» word count: 2.1k

» warnings: angst to fluff, alcohol, described drug use, grammar issues

another glass has broken with your heart. you couldn't fix the glass once it's broken but the heart could. countless apologies, excuses, and promises would fix your heart, but not properly.

but you were sure this time, it surely broke and couldn't be fixed.

you looked at the floor. vodka was spreading through it, so your tears across your cheeks.

he turned his back against you. leaned his arms over the table. "don't... don't ever tell me what to do. you are supposed to be my girlfriend, not my mom, damn it!" he then rushed over to you. you weren't scared of him. you knew he would never hit you. but you were scared what was he going to say next.

"it's not my fault that you can't make me feel better than this shit!" he showed you a little pack of white dust. you felt helpless. you would hide his drugs away from him. and he was that addicted to find them no matter where they were. you would do this because you cared about him, and didn't want to see him killing himself over and over.

you wiped your tears and stood up. "i don't want to see you killing yourself anymore. you're not only killing yourself, you're also killing me! don't you care about me?!"

"bullshit, you're not dying. you're well enough to argue with me!"

"don't dodge the question, do you care about me?! do you want me to be happy?!" you were yelling at him and your voice got weaker. he was silent, looking at the floor. you gulped and approached him.

"i'm going to ask this you once again. you would always change the topic but this time you don't have a choice but to make a decision. drugs, or me?" you asked. looking at his big, brown eyes sincerely.

he looked at you. he wanted to say something, you felt it. or maybe you were wrong. he didn't say anything and went to the bedroom. you were standing not knowing how to react or what to do.

you wanted to swear to him, telling the most painful words to him. but at the same time, you wanted to talk with him again. trying to convince him to get clean for the nth time. you didn't care how much this was going to take. you just wanted to be happy with him.

but guess he chose to be happy just alone.

you left the home and went to the busy streets of los angeles, trying to find an empty cab. after minutes, you found and entered inside. you told the driver the name of the bar where you would often hang out with guys. you wish one of them was there.

and of course there was the indispencable axl! he greeted you nicely but his smile dropped when he saw your heartbroken face. "sugar, what happened?!"

you didn't answer him, just sat next to him and buried your head in your hands. he patted your back. "is it slash again?" you raised your head and looked at him.

"i asked him to choose between me or drugs, he didn't even answer me! i don't know how many times i tried to get him to the rehab, how many times i hid them from him. he just... *sob* can't give up on his first love. i'm nothing to him."

"that's not true, you mean a lot to him. i can't even imagine how he would be like without you."

you sobbed and buried your face again. "do you want a drink? i want a drink. i'm going to buy us drinks!" he went to the bartender. after a couple of seconds, he was walking through your direction but stopped once he saw a beautiful chick. he then gave her your drink. fucking carrot... you thought and stood up from your seat.

you were walking across the people, trying to forget things at least for tonight. and you stopped once you saw a couple of guys snorting cocaine. they smiled at you. "wanna join?" you didn't answer but sat next to them. maybe you could befriend them and let all these things out of your head. but you weren't talking with them unless one of them approached you.

"what's bothering you? we don't want to see people in deep thoughts around us. just forget them. let them go even for just one night." he probably understood that you've never done this before.

he rolled up a small piece of paper into a straw. there was already a big amount of cocaine on the table. he grabbed his razor blade, chopped it, and made a short line of it. he looked at you.

"wanna try? if you don't, then i will." you sighed and wondered how is the feeling this thing gives to your boyfriend or your friends. you then took the roll of paper from him and quickly snorted the line.

you gasped loudly and pulled your head backwards. after a couple of minutes, you felt yourself hot, your palms were sweating and your heart was beating like crazy. the guy beside you laughed at you.

"how does it feel?"

"i... i d-don't know, i feel anxious, i g-guess?" you stuttered. he rubbed your back. "then you should snort again, you will start to feel happy. trust me."

you felt unsure but remembered the times when slash would come home to you happily. he would cling to you and refuse to let you go for a while. he would be so lovey-dovey with you. his current mood would also make you cheerful. but then you realized it's not because he saw you again after an exhausting day, he was because of this shit. you wondered if you could be cheerful like him at the moment.

so you nodded and he chopped again and made you a roll. you took a deep breath and snorted all of it. your head became more fuzzy but a couple of minutes later you felt cheerful and excited. you chuckled at yourself and stood up while staggering.

"now i get it," you grinned and winked at him. then you started to go to the dance floor. you were staggering but you didn't care. you were walking between people and saying them good morning! while smiling. they looked at you strangely.

when you approached the dance floor you started to move slowly, and accommodating to the song. after a couple of seconds, you were dancing like crazy, not minding to look cringe. everybody here was like you, after all.

the guy who helped you to snort stopped behind you. when you turned your head to him you smiled.

"i was looking for you, wanna dance together?" you closed your eyes and shook your head to him. then turn your back against him again. you suddenly felt a pair of hands around your waist.

"now, now. don't be like that. you look so precious and funny right now. let me enjoy your company for a while." his face now was behind your ear. he whispered "maybe we can bring this to another place..." you then turned to him and knitted your eyebrows. "i thought i said no?" you left him there and started to look for axl.

your body temperature was increasing, and so was your heartbeat. you started to struggle more, you knew you looked pathetically and never wanted to do it again. even if your little happiness lasted a couple of minutes.

"axl... axl wh-where are yhou? call shlash..." you couldn't even speak properly. your legs started to shake. you found the door and exited the bar. you were walking to the road. eyes searching for your boyfriend. maybe he was worried about you so he came here to look for you?

“shl-soul, are yhou h-here?" you were squinting, trying to figure out which car was your boyfriend's. and before you realize it, you were hit by something massive.

you woke up with loud noises. you grimaced because fluorescent light was dazzling your eyes. you slowly blinked and turned your gaze to where the sounds were coming from. you saw axl and slash, arguing about something.

"how could you let her snort?! why didn't you stay by her side?!"

"she's not a child, especially not mine! she can make her decisions now, you know!"

you saw slash sit on the couch in front of you. he buried his face in his hands. axl sighed and left the room. when he did, you heard sounds of crying and sobs.

"how could i let this happen..?" he sounded helpless. it made your heart clench. when either of you would cry, the other one would join after. it was mutual. so tears were leaking from your eyes now. he raised his messed up face and looked at you, eyes widened at realization.

"sweetheart, you're awake!" he cheered but his voice was broken. you didn't say anything. he grabbed your hand and placed it on his, caressing gently. "how do you feel?" he asked.

you just shrugged. "i don't know, my legs hurt." he shut his eyes and gulped. "i... i am sorry, for not being there with you." his voice sounded shaking. you wanted to ask him if that was all he wanted to apologize for, but before you opened your mouth, he continued.

"not only for this. i am sorry for not listening to you, even though you only cared about my well-being. sorry for making you cry and feel heartbroken. you never deserved this, never. and i don't deserve your concern.

when you asked me to choose between you and drugs, i went to the bedroom only to think about that. i didn't choose them over you. i could never choose something over you. you're my priority, my everything. i never want something bad to happen to you. i could never get over this." he finished and kissed your hand carefully.

you sighed. "oh slash, i don't even know how many times we talked about this. same thing happens every time..." he looked at you with his big pretty brown eyes. "i swear this is the last time, we'll never talk about this. i swear. i don't want to make you miserable anymore. you deserve nothing but happiness. and i'm more willing to give you that."

you raised your head and looked at the ceiling, sighed again. "did that accident have to happen for you to say these?"

he straightened up. "don't tell me you did this on purpose..." his voice sounded nervous. you shook your head. "of course i didn't, i just always wondered how this shit makes you happy but i'm not, so i wanted to try it once."

"pretty, you know this shit is nothing compared to you. i was mad at you for you hiding it, but that's not an excuse for to me say those untrue things to you."

you smiled at yourself, wondering if axl or duff talked to him about this. finally, you gave up on yourself.

"i love you so much, slash. and i guess we both understood how is to lose almost someone."

"i love you too, sweetheart. more than everything. and yeah, you're right. i don't want one of us to experience this feeling again. " he smiled sincerely at you.

you tried to move your body aside and patted to empty space. he looked at you worringly. "are you sure, doll? i don't want to hurt or crush you." you just chuckled and opened your arms to him. he hesitated but climbed to the bed. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him for a kiss. the kiss was sensual and full of love. you missed his plump and soft lips on yours, on every part of your body.

you then run your fingers through his dark curly hair. you loved playing with them carefully. he doesn't like it when it hurts.

you wanted to deepen the kiss because you missed him so much. you don't remember when you two kissed like this last time. but he pulled out looking at you breathlessly, then lay beside you.

"after we go home, i'm gonna search and then register myself on a program. this time i'm gonna complete it, i swear." he grabbed your hand and pressed a wet kiss on it. then did the same thing to your cheek. "slash!" you whined but he knew you actually liked it.

you were lying on his chest while he was caressing your waist. you've felt peaceful. and felt like your eyes would shut soon. he noticed it and planted a wet kiss on your forehead. you giggled.

"i love you." he said while sincerely looking at you. you smiled and snuggled to him. "i love you too, my big crybaby."

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

HI DILLOOOO!!!

So sososososo, as a plant mother of 6, can you do headcannons of the gang with a s/o who loves plants and has like a ton that they constantly take care of?

If not no worries Ik it’s a kind of strange request love u (platonically) 🫶

A/N: For sure bro! I am the proud owner of 9 little potted plants, they sit in my kitchen windowsills and I dote over them with all of the love in my heart. I'm a huge fan of succulents and cacti, and I hope you're a big fan of these headcanons!

DARRY CURTIS

Darry is amused by your love of plants, thinks it’s cute how excited you get whenever you talk about them or whenever you get a new one

He’s not against your love for them at all and will offer up the windowsills in the kitchen for you to house all of your plants if you need the space

I have a feeling his Mom had a bunch of plants? Like flowers in the flowerbed outside, small plants in the windows and vases on the table so having plants back in the house is something special to Dare

Not that it’s not special to the other Curtis boys, I just think Darry sort of resonates with that sort of thing more? I don’t know, it just works okay? Trust me?

But also trust me on this, you do not want him anywhere near your plants and I mean anywhere at all

He’s bad at remembering to water them and definitely doesn’t have any sort of a green thumb so do yourself a favor, and your plants too, and don’t let Darry take care of them at all

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop Curtis kills every plant he touches so for the love of God, don’t entrust your lovely little plants babies to him, they will not survive

He doesn’t mean to kill them! He just never remembers to water them or waters them too much or leaves them in the sun too long or moves them out of the sun or-

Soda does like giving you plants and flowers though! He’ll do flowers more often than anything else, just cause they’re easier to come by, but expect a few small houseplants every now and then

Yes, the flowers do come from the flowerbeds in the neighborhood, and yes, the flowers are often times just various weeds and wildflowers that he thought were pretty and figured you’d like

He tries to remember the names of all the plants? But you and I both know that Sodapop is wayyyy dyslexic and wayyyy forgetful so sometimes the names come out wrong

But that’s okay because he’s trying and you can tell and he’s just so adorable when he messes it up because once you correct him, he’ll repeat the word a few times just so he can try to remember it 

PONYBOY CURTIS

This boy is surprisingly good at taking care of plants? And he’s very good about giving them the exact amount of sunlight and water that they needed and making sure that they’re growing the right way

Side headcanon that tacks onto Mrs. Curtis having plants, but Ponyboy was definitely the one who helped his mama water all the plants because he just would, ya know, it’s a Ponyboy activity

Pone likes to check out books from the library about plants, specifically flowers and their meanings, and sometimes the two of you will pour over them together, looking at all the pictures

He checks out even more books when you leave him in charge of watering your plants because heaven forbid anything go wrong with your babies-

Ponyboy likes to call the plants by their proper names, boy’s practically a plant identification app after he starts dating you, I swear to everything-

You show him a plant once and the next time you bring that plant up Pony will have at least three facts about it, the symbolism of the plant, and it’s directions for care 

DALLAS WINSTON

If you have plants and you care about them at all, do not leave them in the care of our Mr. Winston, you will not have plants anymore

No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t keep plants alive and it’s literally the funniest thing ever because he does all the same things you do and still kills them- he thinks the plants have something against him

But, there is one plant he has that has managed to survive, a hearty little succulent in his room at Buck’s that has somehow not died yet

Of course, that little plant came from you and Dally loves that thing a whole lot but he will not allow himself to water it, for fear of killing it off, so he makes Buck water it and gets really upset if Buck doesn’t water the little plant on time

No matter what you name your plants or what the plants actually are officially titled, Dally will call them by the most obnoxious names because he doesn’t want to be bothered to remember what they are

He knows all the names, don’t let him fool you on that, but he’d much rather call them names like floppy green leaf and spiky bush  

JOHNNY CADE

Johnnycake loves that you love plants, he thinks it’s sweet and cute how much you care for the little plants you’ve potted so carefully-

He’s very gentle if you leave him in charge of your babies, following any direction you leave him down to the exact letter, he will not mess anything up and everything must be done perfectly

Dallas likes to mess him up and bother him while Johnny’s watering your plants, saying things like “You weren’t supposed to do that one, ya know.” and “You sure you haven’t already watered that one, Johnnykid?”, and my personal favorite, “You think they’d notice if we swapped out a plant?”

Johnny very quickly stops involving Dally when you leave him charge of plant care

He likes learning about the plants too, he’s like a little sponge when it comes to the care information

Johnny’s really good about remembering which plants are which, even with the ones that look really similar and have similar names, he likes to ask you about them just to see you get all excited <3 

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit Mathews is a forgetful person and for that reason, I strongly advise against letting him take care of your plants, he will not remember them until they’re already wilting

That being said, he does think your plants are super cool and will constantly point out new plants to you and ask if you know what they are

It doesn’t matter if you know what they are or not, he trusts you completely when it comes to plants and you could flat-out lie to him about the plant and he would just nod like he understand exactly what you’re saying

Two-Bit really likes cacti I think, the spikier the better, and will always try to poke yours if you’ve got any, no matter how many times he ends up stabbing himself on the points

If you were to give him a plant, I think he’d actually cradle the pot like it was a real baby, super psyched on having his own plant and being just like you! (Give him one of those ones that are like nearly impossible to kill because if his plant dies, he will be very, very sad)

He keeps the plant you gave him in his room, perched precariously in his bedroom windowsill and makes it very clear that no one is to touch it because he’s afraid someone’s going to to kill it

STEVE RANDLE

THIS BOY. Loves to shower you with flowers and I mean all the flowers he can get his hands on, he gives ‘em to you whenever he sees you

Steve gives you small bouquets from the corner store, gives you the wildflowers growing on the edges of the lot, gives you the hearty little weeds that poke up between the sidewalk cracks

Do not let him take care of the plants. I will only say that once. Do not do it.

He can help you pot and move them if you need to move your plants, but he is way too heavy-handed when it comes to watering them and will drown your plants, it’s not at all, I swear-

You can tell when he messes with them too cause he’ll leave grease smudges on the pots and we all know, Steve doesn’t wash his hands nearly as much as he should, and to be honest, with his interest in cars, he’s constantly covered in oil and grease

It’s cool though, he’s way into cars, and you’re way into plants, it’s kinda cute when the two of you go on tangents about your interests and the other one just kinda looks at the first with hearts in their eyes 

TIM SHEPARD

There is one (1) plant, one singular plant, in the whole Shepard household and you are the only reason behind its presence-

It’s in the kitchen, tucked behind the sink and seated right under the window, probably the best spot for a plant to be and it stays there proudly, vibrant and leafy and green

Tim pretends like he’s indifferent about your love for plants, not really having an official opinion on the plants you cherish so dearly, but he’d be lying if he said that his heart didn’t pitter patter at least a little bit faster whenever he sees that plant in the kitchen

Tim likes the plants that are easy to take care of, that only require weekly or bi-weekly waterings and absolutely no pruning, he just wants to dump some water and move on

He doesn’t have a green thumb and he doesn’t have the patience to deal with the plants that require a lot of effort-

He’s bad at remembering the names too and will just wave his hand vaguely when he’s trying to talk about one until you describe the plant in a way that he recognizes

CURLY SHEPARD

I can see Curls really digging plants? And just gently cupping a plant in his hands, those scarred fingers wrapped around a pot with the tiniest sprout poking up through the dirt

Imagine for a moment, if you will, tucking a flower behind his ear- something bright and colorful against those inky black curls while he rolls his eyes fondly and bows his head to give you a kiss-

He likes planting things with you, messing around the dirt and planting your various flowers and other greeneries in pots and flowerbeds 

Curly will get bored with it though, very fast, especially if you’ve got to plant a lot or you’re working with boring plants, and he’ll try to get you to do something else instead

When you’re watering plants too, he’ll try and nudge your hand so you end up dumping more water than you needed to because he’s a mischievous little somebody who likes to mess with you

Expect a lot of flowers from him too! Little bunches of flowers from the sidewalk and from the yards he passes, clutched tightly in his hands and presented to you with the widest smile 

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 10

Hello! Just a little morsel of this wonderful for you all. Next week should be me being back on this and the other WIPs full time and hopefully get them done. I'd say this one and Well Met By Moonlight are the closest to being done.

I never intended this one to get anywhere close to canon, but I was talked into going all the way to the end of season four, though it is seriously looking season 5 will get there before I finish book 3.

Not that anything in season five will change the trajectory of this story unless they bring Eddie back.

Anyway...the reason I'm even bringing it up is if you're hoping for a season three re-write, you aren't going to get one. Not really. I'm going to gloss over a lot of it except the end with Billy and the Mind Flayer.

In this chapter a wild, angry, Robin appears. And the shorts. Can't forget those.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

~

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise that Steve got offered the job at Scoops Ahoy. But of all the places he applied at and yes he applied at all of them, dad, only they offered him a position.

But he sucked it up and went to orientation. He sat there with roughly a half of dozen kids his age and tried not squirm in his seat as at least half of them glared daggers at him. The worst offender was a blonde girl with freckles and blue eyes who kept sneering at him.

The manager walked them through the employee handbook and took their information for tax purposes. And then the final nail in the coffin hit and Steve was mortally wounded.

The uniform.

Oh god, was the thing hideous. He was sure that he was going to be the laughing stock of all of Hawkins. The little shorts, the ridiculous red scarf and the stupid hat. If his dad wasn’t so insistent about the thing, he’d quit. He’d beg Mr. Jones back for his job at the rec center.

But as it was he had to take two sets of this terrible outfit with a pained smile and clenched jaw.

The only good thing he got out of this nightmare was that his mom let him buy new sneakers to go with the damn thing.

He stood in front of the mirror with a sickening sense of dread, he was going to have to find something to put in front of the shorts otherwise the things bordered on the obscene. It showed his package to unfortunate degree.

~

Steve’s first day of work was a nightmare and considering the past couple of years, that really was saying something.

He was scheduled to work with the blonde girl who was trying to bore daggers into him with her eyes.

Her name was Robin Buckley, she was about to enter her senior year of Hawkins High, and she rode her bike into work each day.

She looked at the white towel he had tucked into the front of his shorts with a raised eyebrow. “That isn’t part of the uniform, you know?” she sneered, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

He sighed. She reminded him of Mike. A chip on her shoulder and an axe to grind. “I’ve already cleared it with the manager,” he picked up the corner of it and waved it her direction. “It’s either the towel or an arrest for public indecency.”

Robin eyed the towel suspiciously. “And if I talk to Paul, he’ll tell me the same thing?”

He threw his arms in the air in exasperation. “Yes!”

She rolled her eyes and started pulling off the lids of the ice cream, so Steve took that as the matter being closed and got to work pulling the chairs off of the tables and tucking them in.

Once they got everything open, ready for business, and serving customers Steve realized he had another problem. One he didn’t know how to manage.

At all.

“Why didn’t you flirt with her?” Robin asked after a pretty blonde girl left with her double strawberry cone.

Steve blinked at her a moment before he realized what had happened. The girl had been batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair around a finger. She had been hitting on him hard and he hadn’t noticed.

Shit.

“Not my type,” he muttered, wiping down the counter even though it was already spotless. “I prefer brunettes.”

“Ew...” she hissed. “I didn’t want to know that.”

Steve rolled his eyes and just kept his mouth shut for the rest of their shift together.

~

Eddie couldn’t stop laughing. He was doubled over on the couch and just rolling with laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Steve protested. “This is dire. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Eddie wiped the tears from his eyes as he struggled to sit up. “I’m sorry, babe, but you have to admit that’s one hell of problem to have.”

Steve buried his head into hands with a groan. If it wasn’t him that was facing down this particular barrel, he’d be right beside Eddie laughing his ass off.

“Flirt badly.”

Steve raised his head to look at his boyfriend. “What?”

“Flirt badly,” Eddie repeated. “You know what works, so do the opposite of that.”

Steve scratched his face as he thought about it. That could work. “I can try. I just didn’t want you thinking that I was ashamed of you or that I was looking for someone else if I did that.”

Eddie pulled him in for a hug and kissed the top of his head. “And I appreciate that, sweetheart but you don’t have to worry about that from me. If there is anyone that understands what you’re going through, baby, it’s me.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath.

“Yeah, okay.”

He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw. Eddie hummed happily.

“I’m going to have to come visit you so I can see you in those slutty little shorts.”

Steve groaned for a different reason. “Please don’t. And don’t tell any of our friends I work there, either. It’s bad enough that the kids are going to find out and mock me.”

Eddie lifted his chin a little higher so he could look him in the eyes. “There might be some light mocking, but it’s not going to be malicious or mean. You’re going to get enough of that from the kids.”

Steve let his eyelids flutter shut as he kissed him warm and tenderly. It was hard for him to let go the fact that he had real friends now, friends that wouldn’t mock or tease him just because they could.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Okay.”

Eddie got to his feet and helped Steve to his. “Come on, darlin’, let me cheer you up.”

Steve willingly follow him into his bedroom. He was just glad Uncle Wayne wasn’t home. He had learned the hard way there was no way that Steve could keep quiet when Eddie was making love to him.

Eddie kicked his door closed behind them and Steve let himself be taken care of.

~

Steve didn’t work with Robin all of the time, but when he did he wanted to pour melted ice cream over her head. She was a bitch and while Steve was a fan of that in general, she was being a bitch to him for no reason he could discern.

Then the first of the kids arrived. It was Mike and Lucas. Which normally isn’t a problem, but without the tempering aspects of Dustin and Will’s nature keeping them in check, the sass was out on display.

“Come on, Steve,” Mike was saying when he finally tuned back into their whining. “We spent all our money at the music shop and now we don’t have any money for the movie.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “And how is that my problem?”

“All the shops have a back hallway that link up to each other,” Lucas explained. “So you if let us through then we can slip into the theater and we can see the movie without paying.”

He was about to say no when Eddie walked in. So because he wanted to actually spend time with his boyfriend, he agreed to them out of his hair.

Plus he knew the movie they wanted to see and thought it would be fucking hilarious for them to have nightmares about it and then have to explain to their parents how they saw a movie they weren’t supposed to without giving up their source.

Mike’s in particular would bring him joy because he would absolutely narc on Steve but no one would believe him because of his strong dislike for him.

He came back from letting the kids through to see Eddie being served by Robin.

“I’ll take a double bowl,” he muttered. “Play-dough and bubble gum please.”

Steve had bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing when he saw how hard Robin was trying to keep the look of disgust off her face.

“Are you really going to eat that?” she asked, handing it over.

Steve patted her on the shoulder. “Yep, yep he is. I’m taking my break, but I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

She looked at the two of them in shock. “You two know each other?”

“Yep! Since before Christmas,” Eddie said grinning at her.

“He helped me out when I was puking in class from the concussion Hargrove gave me,” Steve added.

“Gross!” she sneered.

Steve and Eddie just shrugged her off and went to go sit at a booth.

“That stuff will give you cavities,” Steve said, leaning forward to peer into Eddie’s styrofoam cup.

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Like you wouldn’t live off the butterscotch one if you had a chance.”

He cocked his head to the side and then shrugged. “Fair.”

“I will say I’m feeling a little deceived at the moment,” Eddie said with a wink.

“Oh?”

Eddie took a big bite of his ice cream and shook his head fondly. “Those shorts aren’t as nearly as short as advertised.”

This time Steve threw his head back and laughed. “It’s not the length that makes the obscene, sunshine. It’s how tight they are.”

“If you say so, big boy,” Eddie huffed digging into his ice cream for another big bite. “So is the music shop here any good?”

Steve shook his head. “Not for a dyed in the wool metal fan such as yourself. Mike was complaining about how it was all pop and new age. And huge fucking country section.”

Eddie sneered around his spoon. “One day I will find good music in this town.”

“Maybe that’s the sign that you should get out of Ford,” Steve said. “After you graduate for Wayne of course.”

“It’s Dodge.”

Steve looked up to see Robin sneering at him again. “What is?”

“The saying,” she said leaning forward. “It’s get out of Dodge.”

“Why would it be dodge?” he asked with a frown of confusion.

“That’s the name of the frontier town that the saying is referring to,” Eddie said gently.

Steve mouthed ‘oh’ and then nodded. “Gotcha.”

Robin scoffed. “So you’ll take his word for it over mine?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance.

“Yeah,” he said shaking his head slightly. “Because I know him?”

Robin’s head reared back in shock.

“He’s got you there, birdie,” Eddie said, finishing off the last of his ice cream.

She scoffed again and went into the back to ignore them both.

“I think that’s my cue to leave, darlin’,” Eddie cooed. “I’ll see you tonight, all right?”

Steve nodded. “My parents have left again, with ‘plans’ to return for the 4th of July, so just come on over.”

Eddie nodded back and gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze as he threw out his cup, wiping his hands on a napkin.

Steve watched as he left, feeling as if Robin’s eyes were boring into the back of his head again.

It was going to be a long summer.

~

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

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[onlyrains]

Halo!! Can I request a yuken x sachios's bestfriend? Where yuken really likes the reader and tries to make her notice but the reader is oblivious, so yuken had enough and confessed to her! Thank youu!! I love your works so much! ♡♡

a/n: hi!!! thank you for requesting! this was spontaneous and i hope you like it! and also thank you so much for loving my works, that means a lot!❤️

———

[11:23am]

—t/w: kissing, harsh words

to have a complete, supportive, and rich family is a biggest blessing, you always thought. and that is not something you're blessed with.

luckily for you, god have sent sachio as your best friend as a redemption to it.

you met him in middle school as a classmate until one day you helped a little girl crying on the side of the road who turns out to be his sister, you two become a best friend.

you know from the deepest part of your heart, he's one of the people that you're going to keep forever. he's just too good to be true as a best friend—or even as a human in general. you won't forget that day when he offered you to live in his big big house because your work is nearer from his place than yours. so that you can walk everyday and save up more money to give to your parents.

little did you know, he also feel very grateful to have you as his people. you know who he is and never be judgmental about it even though you never understand a bit. he is the reserved type of person yet so many burden on his shoulder and you never hesitate to lend yours whenever he needed without adding more pressure to him.

both of you just so thankful to have each other and always keep things below the limit so the relationship is stable to say at least.

living in his house is such a grace because the amount of working maid here is enough to make you only minding your own business. and that time when his friends visiting is the only time you were out of your room because the maids won't complain when you're helping at this particular moment. at least, you have to serve the guests, right?

the more you socialize with them, the more they feel like a friend to you too. especially that one friend, who visit more frequent lately, yuken. like you know him enough to say that he is a good guy although his cocky attitude often inviting an eye roll from you. but seriously though, they usually come in a horde, but why this odajima yuken come by himself for two weeks in a row now?

“is there a problem?” you ask bluntly as you put a welcome drink on to the table.

yuken staring at you for a few seconds before taking the drink calmly. the eye contact lingers.

“yes.”

“really? but sachio haven't home since yesterday. is that something serious?”

“you sounds like his mom.” he chuckled.

“no, i'm not.”

“yes, you are.”

you frowned. his tone shouldn't be sounds so playful in such a precarious situation, right?

“you better call him, yuken.”

“i can take care myself.”

“huh? then go? why are you still here?”

“did you just throw me out? this isn't even your house tho?”

ouch.

he is always like this. annoying, cocky, even flirty, and overall a menace. you still trying to get used to it as his attractiveness keep making you forgetting it. you do admit he is damn attractive—like, annoyingly attractive.

you inhaled deeply before got up. “just call sachio. i'm sorry i can't be here with you now, need to take care a couple thing,”

he rests his back on the sofa. heart thumping like crazy contrary with his demeanor and smirk on his lips.

“the problem is here, sweetheart.”

oh, you wonder does he always did this to other people? this is not the first time you heard this from him but you aren't familiar with pet names so it is always make you feel something.

“what do you mean? am i the problem?”

“you are.”

huh?

“i heard you doing an amazing job at work,” he scoffs. “but why not this one?”

you came back to the sofa and sat closer to him this time. confusion and anger etched across your forehead. “what are you trying to say?”

“did you receive the daisies? the coffees? the bento? the—”

“wait what?”

yuken let out a soft giggle seeing your face processing everything these past few weeks.

“so those were for me?”

“who else?”

“and—FROM YOU?”

“who else?”

“oh.”

shame on you, girl. really. you thought it was for the company by using your name as the receiver. so you gave most of them to your co-worker.

“is it enough for me to call you stupid?” yuken grins while take your chin up to met his eye.

you really want to punch the shit out of him but that is just your cheap way to get away from this embarrassing situation and that's not nice at all.

you sighed and trying to back away but his fingers was faster to catch you up, no other option for you except to move closer, making his face is just inches away from yours.

“yuken—”

“shhh. i don't think you got the point, blossom.” his thumb caresses your cheek like it's the only thing they do. feels so familiar and comforting.

but shit. what is he talking about?

“huh?” you murmur while your eyes wandering his face like the answer is hidden there. the second your eyes laid on his forehead, you catch a small dried leaf hanging on his hair, causing your hand to reach for it in a blink.

“where were you—why is it so dirty?” you said absentmindedly.

yuken stared intently before laugh it off to hide the racing blood inside him. he put his head on your shoulder while still laughing and now your blood turn to race to your cheeks while feeling his warm breath fanning your neck.

your body freeze as realizing this is the closest distance you ever get with yuken—even a guy. you do lend each other shoulder with sachio sometimes. but not in this face-to-face position even after he grabbed your chin twice. this is too intimate and you can barely breath.

“w-why are you laughing?”

“are you always this oblivious? like are you trapped into a spell or something?”

“i'm not—”

“i think i know why,” he adjust his position and take your hand in his. “i only do this to you, stupid. do you think it's such a habit for me to send everyone those things at work? no, right? do you see me as someone like that?”

you shook your head.

“that's right. so what is the reason?” he waits to let you think, to stop denying the thoughts you have in mind since almost two months ago, to stop feeling afraid of affection you may receive, to stop arguing with the voice in your head.

your grip in his hand got tighter as you found honesty and sincerity in his eyes that don't usually sparkling.

you nod twice. “i just stopped denying.” you say innocently and yuken can't help but ruffled your hair.

“ah, how cute.” he chuckling.

“but is it true—i mean, why? how?”

he clears his throat shakily. “it is true. i just can't resist everything i feel for you these past few months. the more i see you whenever i'm here makes it harder everytime to go without stealing you with me. you're just… i don't know. i like everything in you.”

you watch his lips move effortlessly for every word he said. he was just being spontaneous and you can see that. it was still genuine though, you can feel it. it is the first time you see him on his nerves while shaking subtly.

“thank you.” you say.

his eyebrow rise in unison. “what do you mean by thank you?”

“for everything you feel about me and everything you gave? it's more—”

“and?” he cuts, impatient.

“you don't accept rejection, do you?” you laugh.

“you're right, i don't. it's the first time i feel this kind of feeling and emotion—i even let those bald jerks making fun of me when i come—”

you decided to shut his ramble with your own mouth. it was just a peck but then his hand placed on your nape to pull you closer. he tilt his head for a better access and his lips hugging yours just perfect. your hands squeezing his shoulder as the heat escalated in your body. a knot forming in your stomach when he refused to pull away.

“i-i can't breath.” you say when you finally manage to broke the kiss and both of your forehead still stick together.

he’s breathing heavily, eyes still glued on you. “does that mean we are…?”

“yes.” you say confidently. succeed to let your first guard down. “we're dating.” you cringed a bit.

a mischievous smile appear in his lips. “oh? i was about to ask you are we going to get married?”

“huh?”

“huh?”

“yuken, are you serious?”

“no.” he grins. you were ready to throw hands but he held it back first then closing the gap between you again. he even take off his glasses this time.

“you know why sachio not here since yesterday?”

“no.”

“because i told him not to.”

you gasp. “how dare you?”

“he even advised his sister to stay at her friend's house today.” oh, that cocky tone again. “guess i'm the boss now. thanks to you.”

“god, so they know?”

“everyone are already know about my feelings, silly. you were the only one who oblivious.”

“oh? i'm sorry. let me make it up.”

“how?”

“is this enough?” you kiss him again and pull away a few second later, deciding to let your mischief side arise since you were also wanting to do that for a long time now.

“no.” he kisses you, deeper this time.

“yuken, that's enough.” sachio's low voice echoed causing you to push away your-new-boyfriend and his back meet the end of the sofa roughly.

yuken squeaks loudly. “fuck you sachio. i just got abused in the first ten minutes of my relationship.”

[cbrownjc]

Hi! I hope you don't mind getting an ask from me even though we've never interacted.

I have a question about Old Daniel in the IWTV series, but I don't know how to put it except: what exactly is his current health situation? He has Parkinson's disease (or at least they show us ha has some symtomps, and Daniel says it is Parkinson's), but in ep 01 of the first season Louis calls it an "autoimmune disease" (which Parkinson's is not).

They show us that Daniel keeps a bunch of pill containers on his table in his apartment, which makes sense with how Parkinson's would be treated, but then there's the "levodopa transfusion" scene which does not. (I could try to explain the pharmacokinetic reason if you're interested).

And then there's the meals, during which they keep filling his wine glass, the two Martini scenes. . . why do they keep giving him drinks?They arrange for a doctor to come and administer the "therapy" (I'm not buying that it's levodopa), but he can have all the alcoholic beverages in the world? When they most likely would interfere with the pharmacological therapy he's supposed to be taking?

It all seems a bit suspicious to me. What do you think?

(apologies for any mistakes, english is not my first language)

Hi! It's fine to ask me questions even if we've never interacted before, I don't mind. 🙂

So, as far as we know older Daniel on the show has Parkinson's disease for sure. Daniel pretty much confirmed he does because Louis said he had it and Daniel confirmed it in episode 1x01. And the shaking very much shows he does have it IMO. Because he was specifically shown to be shaking back in episode 1x01 when he was trying to put the Fall of the Reble Angles puzzle together.

Now, as many who read my blog likely already know, I've talked about how my mom had Parkinson's and I was her primary caregiver (before she passed away). So I know a lot already about how that disease works. And so when Armand -- as Rashid -- was talking about "levodopa transfusions" for Daniel being scheduled back in episode 1x04 I was very much "WTF?" about that. The whole idea of that is sus because I know from experience that Daniel should just be taking his levodopa via pills. The only time my mom ever got levodopa administered via an IV drip was when she was staying overnight at a hospital.

So I've long thought there is way more going on with that "levodopa transfusions" Daniel got, and have talked about it here and here. Though at the current time, the theory I talk about in those links might be outdated at this point, though I think there might still be a little something to them.

But, if you know the lore, Dr. Fareed -- the doctor who arrived back in episode 1x06 to administer Daniel's transfusion -- is not only a vampire himself but runs a clinic in the books where he looks into and does experiments regarding vampire physiology. And something else that caught my eye about that clinic he runs as I've been reading Prince Lestat, is that it is said in the book that Fareed and his vampire Maker (and lover) Seth, "ran a small clinic for mortal incurables."

And Parkinson's is very much "incurable."

So yeah, I think something is going on when it comes to Dr. Fareed giving Daniel that IV drip of levodopa. Because even when it comes to the idea of cloning, that's a lot to go through just to get something like a blood sample or something I think. But hey, there's really no saying when it comes to that I guess . . .

As to such as Louis calling it an "autoimmune disease" I just chalk that up to either a writing mistake or, hell just Louis being a vampire. He might just not know the correct medical term to use for it. That is also something that is going into in the Prince Lestat book -- how it can sometimes be very hard for vampires to keep abreast of tech and other things at any given time if they do not encounter it or use it regularly. (Lestat is always forgetting and losing his iPhones). As to the alcohol that, again, could just be the show not really looking too closely at such things (because outside of medical shows, many drama shows don't), or maybe Daniel only being allowed one glass a night and being given some okay about it we never saw. Who knows at this point. 🤷🏾‍♀️