#or like a complete wreck who constantly damages his own body in more ways that one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minjoonalist · 4 years

Text

Buzzkill | Ksj. 18+

Pairing: Boss!Seokjin x Driver!Reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: Request, PWP

Word: 6k

Discription: In which your boss has a consistent streak of being the biggest wet blanket.

Warnings: soft dom!Jin, sub!reader, penetration, fingering, unprotected sex they have sex on a stolen car, cursing, explicit wording, slight degradation, Quickie

A/N: so this is request I received and decided to turn it into a mini fic for a cute little bean, I’m sorry took a second but I do hope you enjoy it sweetie! 😘

———

There was nothing more thrilling than the violent purr of the engine surrounding your senses, the harsh wind whipping through your hair, the exhilarating sound of power that brought you and your crew mates through the dark silent streets of an unknown neighborhood and especially the pride that came with knowing everyone would end up praising you for your extraordinary skills as a getaway driver. You’d only known them for about three weeks, but that was plenty of enough time to showcase your abilities and impress them. They would compliment you, lifting your ego for the complicated turns and cheering you on for the risky maneuvers that allowed all of you to get off scot free with more than five hundred thousand dollars...you loved it, every single part of it.

It was moments like this where Jimin snaps his hands to applaud your fearless energy, Hoseok, the personified can of sunshine boosts you for whipping the fast car in front of a massive truck as a means to shake the three police cars chasing you down the highway. The kid, known as Jungkook- widening his eyes in amazement and slight fear once that same truck misses all of you by a hair as you exited fast lane.

It was a thrill and one you found yourself living off of recently.

The adrenaline and rush of everything you had done, bringing life to the boring, mundane one you’d use to live before. How you were just some pretty accountant by day, kissing the asses of rich old men with too much privilege on their hands- but only to turn around and take care of it for them by night time...in other words you were robbing them blind and just the thought alone always had you grinning ear to ear, even while you turned the unharmed vehicle into the hidden garage that your crew mates owned. It was fun, yet rewarding every time and nothing anyone did could ever ruin that-

“That was dumb.”

“Excuse me?”You balk.

All too quickly, the rush of your misdeed had drained away from your body and suddenly the air had gone incredibly still. The three men currently residing in the back of the car, pauses just as perplexed as you were in the driver’s seat- your eyes glued to the platinum blonde male staring you down in the passenger.

Arms crossed, his pearly teeth nibbling on a silver lip ring- Jin, otherwise known as Kim Seokjin and your boss, meets you with an unimpressed gaze “You heard what I said, that was stupid and reckless.” He continues, voice devoid of any kindness as well as having irritation enter those black irises.

You shake your head, blinking a couple of times just to make sure you’re understanding him and maybe you weren’t in some dream. “I’m confused...what are you talking about?” your voice lifts slightly with outrage while you turned the key in the ignition to shut the car off.

Jin’s face only hardens “Don’t make me repeat myself, that bull crap stunt you pulled back there could’ve nearly killed us. We were lucky that truck driver only hesitated from hearing the police sirens just before that exit...like I said, dumb.” The tense outburst between all of you, was enough to throw the entire atmosphere and stun you all into silence.

Well all except Hoseok, as the optimistic member, he suddenly reaches forward to pat Jin on the shoulder from the back “Hey man, She was great back there- Lighten up.”

“Yeah Hyung, the important thing is that we’re all alive and we each have a hundred thousand dollars in our pockets without anyone catching on.” Jungkook decides to chime in as well, peering around for confirmation- which he does receive. “There's no telling what could have happened if she didn’t.”

You on the other hand didn’t reply to the hurtful insult of the soured male beside you and neither did Jimin, Too busy trying to cope with the foreign reaction of your driving skills and that you were being scolded for actually doing your Job. As you sat there listening to the both of them defend your honor, you’d hoped some of it might have gotten to the quiet grouch raining in on your thrill, but instead it only increased his anger. Which only caused Seokjin to turn his attention to the three men in the back.

He sends an expectant look to Hoseok “I’m sorry...do you and Jimin not have money in the back of this car to go count?” He presses harshly “Instead of worrying about the brat, I suggest you tend to your duties.” Seokjin snaps his fingers, causing the dark haired male to flinch and send you all a beaten look before backing down. Within the next few seconds Hoseok opens his back seat door, getting out grumpily and causing a chain for Jimin to follow him. They both walk around to the back of the car, both of them coming into your vision on the rearview mirror. You catch sight of Jimin, a short wink coming from him with two hits to the closed trunk signaling you to pop it open.

Immediately, you oblige.

Meanwhile Jin turns around to Jungkook, the poor kid’s Adam Apple bobbing up and down as your boss looks at him sternly. “Well?”

“Um, I-I should probably help them?” He says a bit unsure, his pitiful posture within the middle seat, making your soft spot for him ache.

His knees knocked together, rough hands rubbing nervously across his muscular thighs- which makes you wonder how he could possibly be so wrecked from one man and yet keep a calm composure when facing the lethal obstacles of obtaining glorious amounts of money. Nonetheless, you don't have much time to process before the kid is scurrying out of his seat, doing the same as his friends and opening the back seat’s door to let himself out-leaving the both of you inside with silence.

“...Well that was uncalled for.” You finally mumble after a few seconds go by.

From beside you, Seokjin Sighs tiredly- almost ruefully before completely ignoring you. The skip in your heart beat from the situation only serves to remind you of how much adrenaline you still had running through your system.

Just like that, Seokjin had immediately ruined the mood like always and if that weren't enough to have you fuming from the buzzkill, then what he said next did him no Justice. “Aw the brat can’t handle criticism all of a sudden?”

Your face turns sour “I can when that person isn’t being a dick.”

“It's never stopped you before.”He scoffs “ Pointing out a selfish move like that doesn’t make me the bad guy Kiddo, unfortunately for you, you have a hard time seeing that fault.”

Your anger spikes, watching as he rests his head back. Even more now that the adrenaline in you had become noticeable and part of you wondered if he was riling you up on purpose.

It wouldn't be the first time…Seokjin had pissed you off plenty of times before in-fact the man had been giving you a hard time since the first day you began. You couldn’t recall a single memory where you and your boss had a pleasant conversation with each other, not when you brought him the damaged and stolen vehicle of your ex to his garage and especially not when you had to explain the wreckage it’d received after you crashed it in an impromptu street race after your break up.

Now that you were thinking about it, you remembered how you even managed to land the job in the first place…Right, because maybe it didn’t help that your ex happened to be very good customer of the garage owner and that if it weren’t for him- you’d be facing a few years behind bars at the moment. Agreeing to never tell the poor soul the whereabouts of his precious child unless you agreed to work a few jobs for him.

Before then, he’d already been aware of your talent, hearing about it constantly from his babbling friend and always dreading the long convos of another man bragging about his girlfriend, who ‘knows how to drive a stick shift in more ways than one’. You grimaced from the crude comment when Jin had mentioned it to you and it’d been a pleasure knowing he wouldn't be able to say it anymore, Although the man himself had no problem bringing it up just to toy with you on the matter.

So yeah you kind of owed it to him, especially when he’d taken the liberty to fix the car up for you...but still...It doesn’t mean he gets to be an ass right now.

“You’re right Jin, It's not like I'm risking my life too,” The man rolls his eyes as soon as you speak “-Or that I managed to lose three police cars and a helicopter that nearly caught us from a misdirection you gave prior.” You huff out from your nose, your face turning so red Seokjin could've sworn he’d seen steam coming from your ears.

He then hears it before he sees it, the sound of an opening car door and shuffling coming from his side, only to see you clamber out of your seat angrily and turn his way. “You know what, forget it, we got the money... If you think what I did was selfish, fine, but I’m done, I did what you asked and I got us the hell out of there. So do us all a favor and take that damn stick out of your ass for once.” You snap at the older man, not giving him a chance to reply before slamming the car door in his face and also not noticing the way he shamelessly eyes you from his seat.

From behind the car, all three men freeze from your sudden outburst- their shocked expressions morphing while seeing someone so calm suddenly go-off on the most intimidating person here. You clear your throat from the awkward air surrounding you…maybe now would be a good time to leave. You think to yourself, your feeting shifting to turn away until one final sound of a slammed car door stops you as well.

Seokjin steps out, his own aura turning for the worst, but he doesn't plan to take it out on the others. No in-fact even as the three quickly move into action from seeing him appear as well, he doesn’t spare them glance when his eyes ignite on fire from your words. Seokjin’s nostrils flare, inked arms flexing at his sides under a light pink button down and the back of his neck gone completely red, bringing the tiniest bit of fear in you, that you’d gone too far.

Oh and you did.

“Jungkook.” The air practically vibrates with the bass of Seokjin’s voice. The younger stops in between Hoseok and Jimin, eyes widened with curiosity of hearing his name.

“Y-Yes?” he answers quickly.

Seokjin glances at him, an honest emotion written on his face- giving you whiplash from the sudden change of character. “Go home. It's late and the last thing I need is for your older brother to jump down my throat about where you’ve been. Tell Namjoon I’ll be making your drop Tomorrow morning.” He says with finalty. Namjoon...That name itself was enough to punch you in the gut and had it not been for the crippling rush plaguing your body- you’d be feeling quite nauseous at the mention of your ex-boyfriend.

At first Jungkook makes no effort to move completely bewildered by the sudden order “I...but-”

Jimin gives him a light shove to break his trance. “Go, before you piss him off even more -we got it from here.” he whispers but not low enough that you couldn’t catch it from your side of the car.

Jungkook, looks around to all of you for the last time tonight, muttering a silent confirmation before slowly backing off and heading in the opposite direction. No doubt heading out to his own car. After that is done Seokjin barks the simple orders to the two others “Count and leave.” Insisting how late it is for them as well and if he saw them again tonight- they’ll have more to worry about than whether or not they make it home.

Unlike Jungkook, the both of them agree with no hesitation, grabbing what was left in the trunk and heading off somewhere deeper into the garage without so much as glancing your way or saying goodnight. A strange way to act, considering they were always the first ones to do so and with that- you couldn’t stop the sinking foreboding in the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

Finally Seokjin comes back to you, expression blank and yet you could still feel the cold chill draping down your spine from the look- A strange mix of adrenaline with the beginnings of a newfound lust rising in your abdomen from the wolfish gaze he sends your way. Across from his side of the car, He snaps his fingers once again and points to you. “Come here.” He doesn’t question and neither do you, your body on autopilot as your slow footsteps reaches his ears. Each step felt non-existent as if you were walking into a trap and it was too late to turn back. You swallow, frowning up at the tense man staring at you while you walk around the car. Once close enough, you stop a few feet away from him, the butterflies in your stomach sending alarms to your head that you had found yourself in this situation with Seokjin.

Strange how it quickly turned to excitement.

He gives you a once over, narrowed eyes zoning in specifically on how far you’d allowed yourself space. He suddenly meets your eyes “Do you like pissing me off?” The male could only ask, crossing his arms together- your own eyes flickering to the tattooed biceps bulging out from the action.

You swallow in your very dry throat. “I could ask you the same thing, you’ve grown quite the record.”

He arches a brow, face hardening from the reply and he suddenly takes a step forward, beginning to circle opposite of the car and towards you. “ I’m not trying to be an ass, y/n.” He starts cautiously.

“You’ve been an ass since the first day we met,” You sputter in disbelief watching him take another slow step. “admit it you don’t like me because you think I broke your friend’s heart. Good news, it's the other way around.” You point out wearily, subconsciously taking a step back of your own towards the hood of the car.

It was no secret how bad of a break up you and your ex had and if anyone knew, it was definitely Jungkook. The constant bickering and fighting between you and his older brother, the poor thing had to have heard every horrible word you both spat at each other within their home and there was no surprise that even he wanted you to end it. Truth be told, you both were wrong, a bad match to put it lightly and the biggest problem seemed to be how easy it was for Namjoon to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was too jealous, too demanding, too sensitive and It's probably why anyone would think you were the one who hurt him, that definitely wasn’t the case.

Seokjin’s Features turn down in confusion, before a sly grin breaks across his face, a reaction you weren't expecting and his brows furrowing in as if the words you were speaking are absolute gibberish. “Is that what you think? That's... Interesting.” he ponders out loud, amusement clear as ever in his voice. “I mean you’re wrong, but you’re right I don’t like you.”

Your face goes flat, from where you stand Seokjin has gotten significantly closer- your entire body on high alert as your boss begins to tower over you. He tilts his head, your instincts screaming at you to run away and yet you don’t move a single inch- your heart pounding in your chest. “Your mouth and narcissistic tendencies piss me off to no end, but you can drive so Namjoon was right about that and If I actually gave a shit about your past relationship- I wouldn’t constantly find myself wanting to fuck a brat against his car at this moment.” He shrugs while bringing himself even closer, those sinful eyes swirling with a much darker intention.

“I-I what?”

Your entire nervous system jolts from the confession, the electrifying mixture of arousal strumming through you more than ever as the visual had gone to your head. It’s not like you’ve never thought of it before, After all you’d be lying to say you weren’t attracted to him- he was insanely gorgeous. However the problem came whenever Seokjin would go out of his way to comment negatively to you or for instance dismiss your every attempt whenever you tried to have a decent conversation with him.

But now that was different, So much that part of you couldn’t comprehend the sudden force of his lips crashing down on yours. A surprised yelp leaving your body from the soft plush fiercely molding against your mouth, accompanied with the searing cold of his silver lip ring. The kiss is completely unexpected and yet for some reason hot licks of arousal pool around within your stomach easily. You breathe deeply into him, two long arms coming to wrap tightly within the curve of your waist and Seokjin’s hand snakes slightly under the warmth of your shirt, resting at the small of your back.

All over, the butterflies you were feeling had gone completely haywire, your body being pressed firmly into his hard chest and on instinct your own hands had braced themselves onto his broad shoulders.

He groans, a startling vibration that has you rubbing your thighs together, managing to catch his attention in the process and Seokjin can’t help but to run his tongue across the bottom seam of your lips. It feels as if your body had naturally melted into him, the dominance in his kiss leaving you breathless and your head had begun to spin as he moves to suck on your bottom lip- wanting entry so bad he had even sank his teeth to elicit a moan from your end.

“Damn I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” His husky chuckle has you keening into him, the hands on your back roaming up further, when he lifts you more into him. By now Seokjin had managed to slip in completely, the wet muscle maneuvering in every way it pleased, taking over completely and tasting you to the fullest.

At some point you’d managed to get completely lost in Seokjin, all your previous thoughts vanishing within his embrace and slowly you could feel your panties dampening from his touch- a violent shiver racking down your spine once his cold fingertips grazes all the way up on your heating skin. Your back arches, the thick bulge of his erection digging into your abdomen and you nearly grow goosebumps everywhere. Without noticing, your boss had managed to back you up against the car, a muscular thigh parting itself between your legs and rutting up into you, causing you to shiver pleasurably into his hold.

With his lips continuing their attack on yours, you’re still reminded of the silver ring digging into you, your own impulse to latch onto it, teeth tugging slightly to push a faint gasp from him. He feels an immediate twitch in his pants, his own arousal getting to his head and He suddenly parts- “Fuck okay.” You hear him breath, panting as the air finally makes its way back into your lungs and it doesn’t dawn on you what exactly just happened. Perhaps it could have been from the adrenaline running through your system or maybe that it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone except Namjoon- but slowly you felt yourself slipping away, your fucked out gaze meeting Seokjin’s feral one and you held no ounce of regret.

“Lets try not tugging on that.” He suddenly gives a dry laugh, but there's no denying the deep lust residing in it.

“S-Sorry, we probably should have stopped sooner.” he hears you breathe in response, your eyes clouded with a long gone emotion and there was nothing more he wanted than to bend you over and fuck you mercilessly.

He’s wanted that for a while now, often finding himself wondering what it would be like to have the prideful little vixen rendered helpless under his touch. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t like you, but damn if you didn’t turn the man on beyond what would even make sense. To him, you were infuriating and at the same time a forbidden fruit to be eaten. How you’d come to the conclusion he disliked you because of Namjoon he wouldn’t understand, but what he does know is that you were a wild card and one his friend thought could be tamed. He was wrong, and Seokjin could tell the second you brought in the poor scrapped vehicle without an ounce of guilt.

“You’re not sorry.” he whispers lower than ever, catching you by surprise. “If anything you’re the opposite...you’re practically grinding yourself on me.”

Your hands dig nervously into the cloth of his shirt, an untamable throbbing striking you between your thighs proving the truth behind his statement. As if completely drawn to him, all you do was wish his lips were back on yours- your eyes switching repeatedly to stare up at him and that's when you feel it, a movement so slow and torturous it nearly had your knees buckling.

Somehow without being noticed, His hand had begun to move from behind your back, coming around between the both of you and landing at the front of your jeans. He suddenly pops the button open, your zipper being tugged down afterwards and Seokjin watches you cautiously as he slips his hand in and over your clothed heat. His lips part at the feel, your slick wetness drenching the frail material on his hand. “And quite frankly, you’re a terrible liar...aren’t you kiddo?”

You whimper pitifully rutting yourself down onto his hand, enjoying the pressure of his fingers gliding over your slit and rubbing teasing circles around your clit.

“...please.” you find yourself saying to him, your hands clutching him tighter.

“Please? That's new, but I don’t know what you’re asking for.” He frowns, applying more pressure between your folds and then switching to pull your underwear aside. You gasp at the new pleasure, your pussy becoming more and more sensitive to his touch and it was foreign to suddenly feel this way for him, at this point you didn’t care.

“Jin just fuck me already.” You groan, two of his fingers sliding downwards and deeper into your folds, stopping right at your entrance before one sinks in and then the other. Your body tenses, pressing yourself closer to him and he smirks wickedly-wanting to hear exactly those words coming from your mouth.

Seokjin suddenly leans down, bringing his lips close against your ear “That's no way to speak to your boss- If you really want my cock, you’re gonna have to be nicer about it...So let's try again hm?” You gasp, feeling the slow thrusts of his slender digits before he curls them inside. He hums slowly, soft lips caressing over your earlobe and trailing down more to place a soft kiss on your neck. “What are you asking for y/n?” Seokjin tries once more, licking and nibbling on the soft flesh while fucking his fingers a little harder into you.

This time your knees really do buckle, a soft mewl coming deep from within your chest and you don’t hesitate to breathe out what you wanted. “Jin please I need you to fuck me.”

He hums out again, this time as if to think more on the decision...as if he was actually going to change his mind. “Now?”

“ Y-Yes.” He hears your reply, so soft and desperate almost able to rub off on him in the process.

“Right here?” By now you could hear the smile on his lips, which was strange since you’d actually never seen one on him. The idea makes you roll your eyes while muttering another yes, but you bite your lip immediately afterwards- your stomach swirling with warmth from the new action.

It doesn’t last long however, in the next second Seokjin was slipping his hand away from you, placing one last kiss at the bottom of your neck before pulling back with hunger swirling fierce in his eyes. “You know, you sound a lot hotter when you beg.” He teases watching your face screw up into one of your famous glares.

“Fuck o-” You’re being moved before you could finish. He grabs your waist, twisting it with enough force to have you turning away from him and presses your front towards the car.

“Bend.” He grunts when you take too long to catch on.

You yelp in again in surprise, a huge palm pushing towards the middle of your back and suddenly you’re doing just as he says- bending forward over the warm hood of the car. Your ass pushed back towards his front and unable to see anything he was doing. Your body trembles from the new position, feeling Seokjin’s hands run soothingly down your sides towards the back of your ass- giving it a harsh squeeze. “Good little brat.”

Bent away from him, you silently await the moment his fingers would then latch onto the band of your pants and undies. You bite your lip, the cold air rushing around the heated flesh of your ass, his knuckles grazing your hips as he tugs them down to the middle of your thighs. Your pussy clenches to the praise he gives you, wetness seeping out and down your exposed core while also making Seokjin groan out from the sight. He takes in another breath- mouth watering to your drenched core and wanting so badly to taste you in the moment, but there just wasn’t enough time.

“Jin hurry.” you whimper, feeling a single finger glide up your slit once again- taking the opportunity to sway your ass in front him, inviting him.

“Fuck, ” He swallows, his own hands flying for his zipper and you can hear as he undoes himself behind you.

Part of you wondered just for a second if he’d happened to have any protection on him- realizing how you both were out in the open and-“O-Oh.” You suddenly hiss into the silent air.

Seokjin, grips himself at the base of his dick and presses into one side of your cheek to spread you out for him. Thank god he’d prepped you before, your heart racing in your chest as the warm mushroom tip presses into you, gliding up and down your bare core. Eventually when it’s coated enough he stops just outside your entrance, pressing himself in and begins to sink himself slowly into your tight walls.

Hissing again, you gasp at the unbelievable stretch of his girth, your pussy slowly taking him in and molding around him almost to a point where it was slightly uncomfortable- however despite his nature, Seokjin is gentle about it. He rocks himself in, giving you time to adjust to the size of him and there was no denying the gradually growing pleasure that was beginning to take over your body.

“Yes…” you gasp out breathlessly, hands bracing under your body once you feel him reach deep inside you, able to touch the special area of nerves that made up your g-spot...you start to become restless.

“Fuck you’re so tight, I need to move.” His voice comes out strained, grip on your hips tightening a bit more, you simply whimper in return while pushing yourself back onto him fully. In unison, the both of you groan out in pleasure, his slow rocking stuttering from the action.

Seokjin, Takes in a breath- pulling himself slowly out of your heat and snaps his hips back into you. He does this again, pulling back and thrusting into you a bit harder before setting a comfortable pace. With another cry coming from you, it almost takes everything in him not to lose control, his slower thrusts giving you enough to get off and still you need more.

Oh yeah it's definitely the adrenaline.

You whimper, voice cracking as his length hits your g-spot over again. “More...p-please” you try biting your lip.

Seokjin hears you, the untamable emotion riding in his chest fluttering from the request. His hand leaves your hip to bury itself in the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to pull you up to him. You cry out, his grip twisting in your hair to turn your face towards him. When you do, your breathing stops, dark eyes lit with so passion in them you nearly melt right there.

“Do you want me to fuck you harder brat? Is that what you’re asking?” His deep and breathless voice vibrates on your back. Without thinking you’re nodding your head frantically, a desperate need is filling your eyes that has Seokjin’s will to hold back snapping in half.

Immediately he slams his lips back onto yours, the grip in your hair becoming painful as he pulls out to ram himself back into you. Your hands reach back, managing to latch onto his thighs and you can't help loud cries you set free into his kiss. Seokjin moans too, loving the feel of your body shaking under him and he slowly feels his own resolve. He suddenly breaks the kiss, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer and Seokjin lets you fall forward again, suddenly taking a rougher turn to make you reach your release.

With a deeper snap of his hips, the delicious stretch of his cock begins to turn your legs to jelly, a louder moan falling past your lips and into the night air as another one of his powerful thrusts jerks your body forward. Your torso falls even more, the warmth from the hood caressing your chest and easily you were met with your fucked out reflection. Teary eyes, wild hair and a sweaty face twisted into ecstasy- you shut your eyes before the predicament could truly set in.

How the hell did you get here? Letting Seokjin fuck your brains out in such an open space and loving the thrill of it. His fingers deep within your hair, pulling and tugging you back towards him as he drills himself in and out of you repeatedly, bringing your awaiting orgasm closer and faster than ever, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Such a good little slut, Who would've thought you’d be so whipped for my dick.” You hear him growl from behind you, a large hand connecting harshly with the soft skin of your ass. A tiny shriek is ripped from your throat and you then let out a tiny sob as your walls quivered around him from the action. He chuckles darkly, gripping harder onto your hips as he picks up the pace and begins to pound harder into you- loving every sexy ass moan that leaves your mouth every time he thrusts into you. “Oh the brat likes that? Do you like when I talk to you like a cock loving slut? You don’t want me to call you princess or baby girl?”

Your mouth parts in protest “I-...f-fuck Seokjin shut u-up, yes!” You cry out, As your nerves begin to prickle with the beginnings of your release- your sweaty hands squeaking up against the hood as they try to grab anything to anchor you down and before you know it- he's pressing down harder into your back, his other hand leaving your hair to come and rub frenzied circles around your clit.

“Oh shit, fuck you just gushed around me. I bet you’re going cum.” He pants, thrusts becoming relentless and overwhelming. “ Fuck, fuck yes- keep taking me just like that...wanna cum in this tight little pussy. Do you want to cum on my dick? W-wanna be a good little slut and let me cum in whats mine?”

“Yes J-Jin, Fuck yes!” By now you felt as if your body was going limp, your loud cries turning into drawled out moans and it could be accompanied by his grunts of pleasure as well as the connecting of his hips to your sore ass.

He swallows a fevered moan of his own “Then cum, show me who this pussy belongs to.”

You grow more butterflies in your stomach, hearing him call you his so suddenly when the guy had barely acknowledged you before. It was confusing to say the least, but all the while so fucking hot and you didn’t have the time to truly comprehend it- instead you allowed the pleasure to consume you. The strong feeling of intense warmth abruptly overtaking your body, your toes curling inside your shoes, a sharp squeak escaping your lips and Seokjin could feel your body stiffen under him as your legs shook sporadically from your powerful orgasm.

Seokjin growls out a guttural moan, His sloppy thrusts tipping him over once he feels your walls clenched tightly around him- bringing his orgasm on so suddenly, the next thing he knew, Seokjin was suddenly collapsing heavily over your back with a curse. “Shit!”

You pant trying to ride out your high, hips continuing to rock against him even as his cock swells in you. Sudden spurts of hot cum drench your walls and manages to trigger the aftershocks of your own release.

“Um wow.” You breath out, after staying in your position for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath. Seokjin’s chest could be felt rising and falling heavily onto your back, his length softening within you and it was then then that you finally heard him speak.

“He was right.” Jin mumbles out into the now silent garage, making you frown in confusion.

“Who was?”

Seokjin presses his forehead into your back, his mouth twitching to hide a smile even though you couldn’t see him and his silence probably should have been a red flag for you, however you don’t press any further. Its until the small vibrations of his chuckles and the feel of his chest shaking behind you has you curious as why the man would say such a random statement after sex.

“Namjoon…” Seokjin is full on laughing and before you know it, he's lifting off of you and sliding himself out while making you hiss. Once the joke registers, you find yourself rolling your eyes and you're lifting yourself up as well, wincing from the stickiness between your thighs and that you would need to hurry home fast so you could clean up.

Watching him put himself together, you start to do the same- reaching for your pants to pull them up and you’re sending him a disgusted look while fastening your button “Don't Seokjin, please don’t say it.” You say as you then run your hand up to fix your hair.

Already done, he steps closer to you - sending you a devilish grin that you’d never seen before, the look shocking you in the process and you don’t understand why you were still feeling the strange flutter in your stomach, your adrenaline long gone. Suddenly he pulls you closer, a hand tipping under your chin to have you look up at him and then...

“you really do know how to drive a stick shift in more ways than one.” He whispers dreamily before cackling in an unattractive manner and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted to punch someone more.

“I regret having sex with you.”

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freckledmountain · 3 years

Text

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

#Writing #The friendly neighborhood exchange #WHOOO #irondad and spiderson #I love them #platonic soulmates

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juuls · 3 years

Text

Pharmacist/Me = 1 🏆 Doctor/Nursing Staff = 0

Thank you in advance for reading this rant. I’ve been really frustrated and just needed to get this off my chest, and today at least I had a wonderful knight in a white lab coat. 🩺❤️‍🩹🥽🥼💪🏻

Content warnings and squicky squicks: (further down there is) an image of a medical vial with a clipped image of a more benign part of a syringe, health conditions (endometriosis, fibromyalgia), menstrual cycles and associated terms such as bleeding and other things, lack of empathy in my specific healthcare system, hysterectomies, pain, swearing and losing patience. Most important warning: self-administered syringes and injection discussions of legal medications (Depo-Provera) approved of by professionals and properly researched. P.S. this may sound rather Karen-like but I would never do this to someone’s face. Online ranting and acknowledging where I could do better is not the same as screaming in public for bossy requests or comps, etc. Ew.

Another ‘warning’… pharmacists being kick-ass allies and giving a damn about their patients.

I’m really annoyed because (and I know healthcare and scheduling is a clusterfuck right now, but…) for over a month now I’ve been trying to get an appointment in person to get this injectable medication that is, yes, birth control, but is also used for endometriosis in my case. And I have severe endometriosis (exacerbated severely by fibromyalgia, siiiiigh) to the point I bleed enough and lose so much I have to go to the hospital when my care is not properly preventative… like in this case, and the pain is unbelievably severe also to the point I’ve spent time in the hospital, including my 11th Christmas Eve and Day. I started this injectable medication at 13 because it was the only thing that came close to helping reduce my endometrial tissue. Even a hysterectomy wouldn’t help as much, unless they decided to go the super invasive route and remove all the organs (or parts of them) that had become ‘infected’ by the tissue. Again, tissue where it’s not supposed to be, and it causes extreme pain as the tissue tries to flush out of my body each period, even if it’s attached to, like, my pancreas. Just no. That does not work at all. No. That is not fun.

SO. I’m 31, nearing 32, and the doctor’s office knows this. I’ve had the same doctor since I was 10. Been on this medication nearly non-stop for just shy of two decades (with appropriate precautions such as bone density tests) because of the absolute severity of the pain and my inability to function when it hits… which can be months at a time of non-stop bleeding and morning sickness-level nausea and vomiting, migraines and the occasional complete inability to move—in other words, it’s debilitating.

My doctor (even the nurses, as it’s in large print at the top of my file in the system) knows all about this. They’re supposed to call me if I’m overdue by a certain margin (I get they’re busy but months and months???). But my doc’s also a bit of an airhead (albeit a smart one when he focuses) and takes forever to reply to anything on time, even when it’s a severe issue, but not severe enough to go to the hospital. But it’s gotten to the point where the nurses say to go to the ER and then the ER nurses and doctors there get SUPER pissed off (AT ME AND SOMEHOW NOT AT MY DOCTOR/NURSES AND THEIR ORDERS) at the ‘waste of time’, and it’s just a clusterfuck.

Oh yeah, and that ER visit while I was overdue for my injection? Internal intestinal bleeding along with a lovely, even if small, perforation in my fucking uterus from the growth of endometrial tissue. I MEAN COME ON — WHAT IN THE HELL. Totally preventable if they fit me in when I called literally over a month ago.

But I will not change my doctor (the other docs at the practice know what is going on and have offered to take me on, but they don’t have the experience with myself and my conditions or the history, but they can do little else because of professional conduct—it’s between myself and my doc) because he is the only one who treats me with humanity and understands fibromyalgia, endometriosis, pre-MS and pre-RhA/PsA, endo-related IBS, (ulcerative) colitis, and other neurological conditions with any degree of empathy. (See, I told you I’m a mess!) There is no way I’m switching offices in the perpetual shortage of doctors in Canada moving elsewhere for m o n e y (plus Covid-19 being a teen hooligan and constantly coming back to wreck more goddamn shit, including everyone’s sanity, then setting things on fire like the real hooligans in my village have been doing this summer — I mean… what in the hell!?!?), so with all that in mind I actually thank my lucky stars. So I put up with a lot of this shit because he treats me, besides him being an airhead, like an actual human being deserving of compassion and care and quality of life despite my severe disabilities and pain. So.

I’m usually treated really well (even if they often think I’m a nuisance for daring to be severely chronically ill/in pain all the time) so I try to be patient and good and understanding when I can.

But his STAFF (I know they’re busy and I’ve been patient but they’ve been so awful honestly to the point I cried hard enough my dad noticed my red eyes and frustration-tear fracks on my face)! And the doc himself’s inability to reply to notes on time even when urgent and when he knows the circumstances (I admit I am a bit of a hard patient so I can understand if he just kinda ignores me sometimes, honestly). But in this case I was THREE DAMN MONTHS LATE for my injection and they’ve always called in the past when I was coming due if it looked like I hadn’t scheduled an injection, so that I was all on time and squared away and didn’t risk severe pain and damage to my already-fucked hormonal system (learning I couldn’t have kids was absolutely heartbreaking, let me tell you, but even a hysterectomy in that case would solve nothing — this is by far the easiest option, especially considering how my fibromyalgia would fuck with my post-surgery recovery and leave me with lasting pain for years if not decades; sigh).

Anyway. So. After some ridiculous levels of back and forth and some truly remarkable levels of lack of compassion (she kept giving me the exact same, word for word response in a bored tone UGH) considering the severe pain I was in (I was told, in front of OTHER PATIENTS AND STAFF, that I could just wait until I talk to the doctor myself at my next phone appointment and then schedule my injection for my next MONTHLY followup — 4.5 months overdue at that point, it would’ve been — because, and I quote, ‘am used to dealing with pain because of my fibromyalgia and years of dealing with it and other conditions’ which they named in front of others!!!!!!!! what. the. fuck. But I kept my cool because I know all these people, my mom taught their kids music, they’re a fixture of the community, etc. and I refuse to be a Karen…. At least externally.

But here comes the nice part that makes me love our new (okay, he’s been here like 5 years but still, in a small town that’s pretty new lmao) pharmacist that much more. Rasik was aware of my frustration with the doctor and nurses and was even the one who brought to my attention that, at the time, I was 2 months late for my injection and he was a bit concerned since he’s privy to how much pain I exist in without throwing in one or more knives directly into my womb, ovaries, tummy, hips, and other areas my endometrial tissue has taken root. He’s such a sweetheart and he really does care for his patients— the work he does with my father’s diabetes (the tricky one where you’re not obese) management is above and beyond the call of a pharmacist and I will forever be grateful for that alone, never mind how he cares for me.

So I went in today to pick up another medication, after yet another frustrating stop-over at the nurses’ desks, and he suggested I ask for my injectable medication (it’s Depo-Provera, by the way) and the syringe plus the two tips necessary — I’m actually familiar with this since I had to learn epinephrine injections from an early age (not Epipen) and how to give testosterone daily to my ex-husband (sorry not sorry, dude, but congrats on your first kid *grouchy thumbs up*). But yeah! Legally he’s not allowed to suggest I give it to myself, but he was getting super fed up with the nurses and doctors dragging their feet and ‘being assholes with little empathy’ in his own words, so I took the hint and requested my vial plus syringe, as well as the drawing and injection gauge needles…. which he gleefully filled for me, and I reiterated that it was ‘fully my idea, not yours, Rasik, because everyone knows I’m dumb and would never think it’s you if something happened’ (I’m not dumb and I’ve given injections to others many times looool).

Long story short: HERE’S TO PHARMACISTS AROUND THE WORLD, BEING AMAZING AND CARING FOR THEIR PATIENTS AND ‘BENDING BUT NOT REALLY BENDING’ THE RULES TO MAKE SURE THEIR CLIENTS ARE CARED FOR PROPERLY. They are amazing and deserve every last bit of your courtesy, especially when they pull double duty every. single. day. because of Covid and their subsequent boosters. (i.e. boosters in the form of humans who are fucking stupid if they have no medical reason not to get the vaccine… I mean JFC.)

Rasik? You are amazing and I am 100% going to find you some Indian-Canadian (or North Indian; I believe that’s where he’s from originally) treats or desserts or make some myself after slyly asking his assistant what he leans toward liking.

Be kind to one another, yeah, but… my goodness: be kind to those who can truly make a difference in your health, sanity, and even life or death.

Pharmacists, volunteers, and frontline health workers: the true heroes of these times.

Thank you so much. So very much.

💜💙🇨🇦👨🏽‍⚕️❤️‍🩹🙏🏻

P.S. … now I just gotta stab myself intramuscularly after making sure there’s no air bubbles and etc., and swap out to the proper gauge needle (different, smaller, to draw from the vial, larger to inject so that it goes in more quickly and, oddly enough, hurts less haha). I don’t think air bubbles are as much of an issue as when injecting intravenously (ummm I have a doctor uncle and grandma nurse and nurse friends, so shush 😆). But I’ve done this for others and animals so I should be good! :)

I’m a smart enough cookie even if I’ve lost a few nibble-size pieces around the edges. 😉😘 buahaha

Cheers to my pharmacist!!!! You are amazing and I can’t wait for the pain and months and months of bleeding to settle down.

Remind me again why humans are the only mammals (animals?) with monthly fluxes? UGH wtf ever. 🙃

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nightglider124 · 4 years

Text

Simulation

So, like most people... I was not impressed with the newest and last in the series DCAMU movie; JLD: Apokolips War.

It was honestly like some kind of awfully written fanfic. I hated it and my otp were literally tormented, so not a fan lmao.

So, I did what most writers do in these scenarios. I wrote a bit of a fix it fic. It’s cliche and similar to ‘it was all a dream’ but it felt like a bit more of a believable route. They did it in YJ so I thought why not.

Anyway, I hope this helps as some kind of comfort after watching that atrocious piece of garbage. ^.^

____________________________________________________

The light filled the entirety of the sky, stroking licks of gold and blinding white all across the planes of existence, swelling and growing until it was suffocating everything and everyone that was within its path.

It was enveloping them by the second, growing stronger and stronger and despite how hard Damian narrowed his eyes to try and catch one last fleeting glimpse of Flash sprinting across the ocean, in an attempt to reset their fractured timeline, the struggle was becoming one he could not control.

His chest felt tight, like all the air was slowly being released from his lungs and his heart was hammering, right against his ribcage.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he watched as Clark and Diana shielded their eyes from the onslaught of light that was swallowing them up. When he turned his head towards his father, however, he found Batman staring straight back at him, as if he knew something the others did not; something that he wanted Damian to piece together himself.

His head was filled with so many things; memories, information… emotions.

No matter how much he tried to push it away, there was a weight in his heart. He had survived this ordeal with Darkseid, as well as those who currently surrounded him, even though the numbers were a little less than he had hoped for when they began the secondary crusade at redemption for those they had lost to the Apokoliptic tyrant two years prior.

And yet, he didn’t feel like it was a victory. It felt bittersweet. They had finally won but at what cost?

Half of humanity had been eradicated from existence or molded into some kind of slave herd to do Darkseid’s bidding for him. His friends, his team, his family; all of it had been ripped away from him and there was no coming back from it. There was no way to salvage what had happened, no matter what Kent was trying to spew as a pep talk.

The morale was empty and at that moment, waiting for the effects of the flashpoint to seize control of their world and rectify the magnitude of problems felt like an eternity but they had to wait; to simply sit and wait for their absolution and for the world to restart, not that any of them would remember.

That would probably be for the best. He didn’t want to remember living in this kind of dystopian future where everywhere he looked, there was destruction and roaring flames accompanied by an unsettling silence where in its stead should have been the reverberation of crowds and people, living their lives on a day to day basis.

Damian sighed and from where he sat, he glanced at Raven, dressed in her white uniform and cloak. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to this point in their relationship and it felt… unusual to him, like something wasn’t right, including where his feelings were concerned in accordance to the girl beside him.

He cared for her deeply; she was a teammate, his friend but anything more? He couldn’t be certain.

Shaking his head, Damian decided not to dwell, knowing whatever he was feeling would soon be erased and he would wind up with a completely different mindset in just a few minutes.

He scanned his surroundings from beneath his mask and his eyes fell upon his former team leader and his… brother.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Damian couldn’t stop how the weight became heavier, pulling his heart down towards his stomach like a wrecking ball was attached.

Raven was right. He had promised not to use the Lazarus Pit to revive Dick but, when everything was said and done and the dust had settled on the Titans joint demise, having tried their damndest to ensure Darkseid wouldn’t break their defenses and claim Earth, he felt cheated.

He had finally found a family who accepted him, flaws and all and he was supposed to just accept having them brutally torn away from him?

He couldn’t leave his brother there. He couldn’t just leave Dick lying there in a pool of his own blood, still trickling out from the wound in his chest.

Damian had wanted to save all of them but he knew time had been of the essence. The quicker someone can be taken to the pit, the more likely it is that they will return as themselves. Or at least, that was what his grandfather had told him once as a boy.

He hadn’t known how true it was or even if it was true at all but he had gotten Dick to the temple as quickly as he could.

Not that it had mattered in the end.

He’d gotten there too late. His heart had held hope that he would return to the living, just as he was but it wasn’t to be.

Damian exhaled through his nose and allowed the memory of that day to fade. He didn’t need to relive that as well. The straight jacket Dick constantly wore was reminder enough as to why he had immediately regretted using the pit.

There are some things worse than death. He knew that now. Too bad it was about two years too late.

His eyes wandered across Kory’s face and his brows furrowed, aghast at what Darkseid had done to her. After he had returned ‘home’ to the League of Assassins, or what was left of it at least, he hadn’t looked back; didn’t have any knowledge of what had become of his dead teammates.

Some of them remained dead whilst others had purposes that did not expire when their lives had. Darkseid had ensured the strongest were put to work amongst his ranks, whether they wanted to or not.

Kory had become one of his guards, with most of her body replaced with parts and machinery, perfecting her into a loyal, brainwashed slave; something Kory had once told him that she never wanted to be again.

Damian watched as Kory gently stroked some of Dick’s hair out of his face. His head rested on her lap whilst twitching and mumbling every now and then, his mind a warped version of what it had once been before any of this. It ticked overtime for different reasons now.

He saw the hesitation, recognised the look of someone who now viewed themself as some kind of monster. She was careful of her hands, her fingers now replaced with metal daggers that looked sharp enough to cut steel if given the chance.

Kory lowered her hand and stared down at Dick, who was yet to wake from his tormented slumber. Damian took solace in the fact he had seemed to recognize Kory, somewhat.

When he had brought him to Titans tower where, what was left of their backup plan party, decided to rendezvous, he had been manic and animalistic, hissing and trying to attack those around him who he had once called friends.

Damian hadn’t been sure if it was a good idea but his father had suggested it, to start on resolving the problems caused from this apocalyptic fallout.

When Kory had stepped forth, her lime eyes lingering on her love, Damian had seen tears; uncommon when it came to Kory considering her warrior upbringing. It caused her pain, of that he knew, if only from the way her footing faltered and she stayed back, in fear; something she had never ever felt around Dick in the life they’d shared before.

But, Dick had surprised them all, staring at her for a long moment and it gave him a strange flicker of hope that possibly, a piece of the real Dick was still in there somewhere, lost amongst all the mess in his mind.

He had still been hesitant as she offered a hand to him. He jerked back but then stepped forward until he let her lead him to where they sat now. Damian was certain that things may change when he woke up but for now, it seemed to be enough for Kory just to spend these last few minutes with him, unaware of what awaited them in the new timeline Barry was creating.

Just a few minutes of peace, sitting there with one another.

Damian looked away, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on something private to the couple, if he could even call them that anymore.

His eyes shifted to the ocean, stretching wide and untouched in front of them, mother nature clearly protecting her own. The waves were gentle, flowing and ebbing and repeating. It seeped forward, water rushing over the bed of sand at the edge of the island before it retreated back from where it came.

Suddenly, there was a resounding pulse that rocked the air around them and a ringing in his ears started growing louder with each passing moment. The sound was becoming piercing and unbearable, so much so he had to lift a hand to one of his ears and grind his teeth in an effort to make it stop.

The ground beneath their feet shook wildly as existence prepared to repair what had been damaged. That light that had been burning in the distance shone brighter, stretching over their heads now and soaring in from behind them as well, fully encompassing the last of the world’s greatest heroes and everything in the area, sentient or not.

Damian gulped again, his mind confirming that Barry had done it and reality was resetting itself.

His skin felt sharp and he felt lightheaded, unable to make out any shapes or sounds around him anymore. His arms felt like they were being pulled away from his body, like something was expanding in his chest.

Damian willingly allowed what he assumed was the erasure of his being. He let a sigh of relief slip from between his lips as he finally felt himself disappearing into nothingness, along with all the other heroes around him.

Squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he waited for their finality to come.

He was ready for it to change; go back to how it was before… before any of this.

No one deserved a fate such as this one. _______ Damian’s eyes snapped open and he gasped a haggard breath, his heart beating a mile a minute as all he could see was the blurred lights from the ceiling above his head.

His fingers dug into what felt like sheets beneath him as he struggled to control his rapid breaths.

“Damian.”

He recognized the steel tone of his father and he shot upward, moving fast enough to make his head spin.

Remembering his training since the age of two years old, he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nostrils, taking charge of his body once again.

He narrowed his eyes and pressed a hand to his temple, tiling his chin upward to see his father, wearing the cowl, sat just on the end of the little makeshift bed he appeared to be in.

“It’s alright, Damian… you’re back now. Everything is fine.” Bruce explained, nodding and giving no emotion away under the bat guise he had grown so comfortable in.

“Back?” Damian paused, “Back where?”

“In the real world. The simulation is over. The others are starting to wake up.” Batman informed him before he stood up and looked down upon his son,

Damian only just now was noticing exactly where he was.

High tech lined against the walls, the view of the solar system outside the huge glass windows and the metal paneling along the computer systems was enough to drag him straight back to reality. The watchtower wasn’t a place that a person could easily forget.

Turning his body, he watched as his friends; the Titans started to come to from their unconscious states as well.

“Ugh… Bruce, when you said… you wanted us to go through training simulation… that was a lot different than what I thought you had in mind.” Dick groaned from his place several beds over from where Damian sat,

Nightwing sat up, rubbing his forehead and shaking his head as if getting over the remnants of a bad dream. He rolled his shoulders back before checking on each and every member of their team, all of them in a similar position to how he was sat.

Donna was sitting with her legs crossed, Raven too and on the other side of them, Gar was still lying down but with an arm thrown across his face, moaning with nausea symptoms.

Kon, Jaime and Wally were already quietly murmuring between themselves over what they had just gone through and witnessed.

Dick turned his head to the left, his heart racing at some sounds he just knew belonged to Kory. He smiled softly as he watched her rub her head, fingers sliding through her long auburn hair that pooled beautifully down her back.

“Ow… that was... much more brutal than I had anticipated…” Kory grunted, stretching her arms above her head in an attempt to make her mind less muzzy.

“How are you all feeling?” Diana asked, addressing them all as she stood at the panel, clicking a few buttons to ensure the simulation had ended properly as well as making sure no one was still unconscious.

“Like I just got smacked in the head with a shovel…” Gar voiced, whining as he forced himself into a sitting position,

“That will pass in a few minutes. It took Vic a long time to figure out how to make this program without it having a lasting effect on us.” Superman told them, offering them one of his gentle smiles.

“Clark… what was this?” Dick asked, his brows furrowed as he stared at the man of steel, “I mean… now that I’m awake… I have it coming back to me that this was part of a… training exercise but after seeing… everything we just saw in there… I’d say it’s a little overboard just for mandatory training.”

Superman sighed, losing the smile and he stared up at the images now lit upon the hologram screen behind him. There were photos of Darkseid and his homeworld, with some recent footage of said tyrant moving across planets in the furthest parts of the galaxy.

“Recently, there has been movement on Apokolips and footage was retrieved of Darkseid… taking control of three planets in his own dimension. They were small and lacked much life.”

“But there was some life on those planets, right? Kory murmured, her brows knitted together in concern,

Clark nodded solemnly, “There was, Kory. To us, right now… Darkseid is not a threat. To the best of our knowledge, he isn’t considering Earth as a target to take control of. But, that could change, very quickly.”

“We don’t take his recent movements lightly and we’ve begun preparing different strategies and plans for when the time is right.” Bruce continued, his dark cape curling around his feet as he moved, “The simulations that just played out… they were completely in your mind, programmed by Vic for you to witness, as if you were there and what the possible outcomes could be, should we take the route that was created in this scenario.”

“Isn’t that… a bit overkill? To design a program simply to test possibilities that might just be… hypothetical?” Jaime queried, dragging his knee to his chin as he stared at the three Justice League members.

Superman made a small noise of apprehension before he looked back up, his eyes glossing over each and every member of the Titans, “None of you have ever had to face Darkseid… thankfully. He is… an interdimensional despot who holds immense power. He is not a criminal to be taken lightly. All the things you saw in this simulation are things he has been known to do to those planets he has already desecrated. Brutality and violence are his weapons and we need to be prepared for any situation involving him.”

“These simulations are only being tested on the Justice League and Titans when we feel we may have mapped a possibly victorious battle plan. They will be few but this was one that had been considered, early on in our knowledge of what Darkseid has been doing.” Wonder Woman elaborated,

“But that plan clearly didn’t work… so why would you show it to us?” Raven asked, her dark eyes brushing across Clark who had apparently become her travelling companion when the world went down the drain in the simulation,

“We wanted to show you so that you can help us to rectify where… we may have gone wrong in the plan.” Clark told them,

Damian folded his arms over his chest, “It was probably taking the war to Darkseid without realizing how dangerous it would be which in the simulation, you already seemed to realize once it was too late.” He paused and thought back on something from the simulation, “Oh and… there was the fact Darkseid knew the whole plan from hacking Cyborg’s cybernetic eye.”

Superman nodded his head, “Yes, we’re… talking to Victor about preventing this. It would have probably ended differently in the simulation, had Darkseid not learned everything before the plan was executed.”

“You can’t plan for what you don’t know yet.” Raven reminded them,

Clark gave her a smile, “No, but we can try in order to keep our future as far away from the possibility of what you just lived through.”

The Titans nodded amongst themselves, understanding their efforts and all secretly hoping they wouldn’t have to face anything like what they’d seen for a long time or ever, if the universe deemed them lucky.

“I can’t believe I died right at the start!” Gar complained, his playful nature reinserting some lightheartedness where it was desperately needed, “I mean… a guy plays all the video games in the world and I can’t even make it?”

Raven smirked and glanced at him, “I don’t think video games and Darkseid are exactly the same, Gar.”

He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “Yeah, well. I’m not happy about it! I want a redo!”

Damian rolled his eyes before raising a brow at him, “You want to live through that all again?”

Gar paused and blinked several times before grinning sheepishly, “Uh… on second thought… I’m good. Sad I went out that early but y’know what… I’m good!”

“If you’re all feeling a little more with us now, come into the hall. We want your feedback.” Batman told them, leading the way into the hall, followed by Diana and then the Titans, with Superman politely showing them the way through the watchtower.

“Feedback on this training? Hm… that would be a solid 0/10, Bruce.” Dick muttered as he helped Kory hop down from the medical bed she had been perched upon, earning a quiet giggle from her,

Clark smiled at the two as they continued after the other Titans, right on Batman’s heels to give their input into what the Justice League were planning, in case of an emergency.

_______________

Gar’s mouth stretched wide as he lifted his arms over his head and yawned loudly, earning an elbow in the stomach from Donna as she passed him,

“Ow! Hey! What’d I do?” He grumbled, rubbing the spot she had hit,

“Do you really have to be that loud, Gar?” She laughed, shaking her head, “Just yawn like a normal person, would you?”

He smirked, flashing a fang in her direction, “Nah, there’s no fun in that.”

Kory cleared her throat before they could all escape in opposite directions to their respective bedrooms, “Titans. I need to speak with you all for a moment, please.”

The group exchanged glances between one another, curiosity washing over each of them before they shuffled towards the couch, situated just in front of the large window panes where the moonlight was already beginning to filter through.

“Are… we in trouble? Whatever it is… I didn’t do it.” Kon rebuffed, immediately holding his hands up in defense as he took a seat on the edge of the sofa,

“Me either!” Gar and Jaime added simultaneously,

Kory smiled softly and shook her head at them, walking around until she stood before them, “No. You’re not in trouble; any of you.”

“So… what do you want to talk to us about, Kory?” Raven queried, giving her leader a small smile,

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened today.”

Gar’s brows knitted together, “You mean the training over at the watchtower?”

The Princess nodded her head, her long red locks falling over her shoulder.

Damian narrowed his eyes, equally perplexed and confused as his teammates, “What about it?”

Kory took a deep breath and folded her arms over her chest, “Well… the things in the simulation that happened, that you saw… it was…” She paused and tried to grapple for the correct word,

“Pretty traumatic.” Dick interjected, aiding her and coming to stand by her side, having a feeling he knew what Kory was aiming for with this little chat, “And, it’s okay if it affected you guys. God knows… it was a lot for a training session based on possibility.”

Instead of doing what the adult Titans thought they would, the younger roster of heroes remained silent, all of them contemplating and reflecting on what they had been witness to whilst under the spell of the simulation.

Kory frowned and her brows wrinkled before she looked to Dick, who only matched her facial expression.

“I mean… I joked about being murdered by those parademon things so early on in it but… it was pretty scary. The simulation was designed differently so we didn’t wake up as soon as we died inside of it. I had to watch it all unfold… like some kind of horror movie… not so cool when it’s your friends being killed instead of fictional characters.” Gar mumbled, his jade eyes focused on the coffee table before them with his hands pressed firmly to his thighs.

Jaime nodded, “It was… espantoso. It just… went south so quickly.”

Donna made a noise of agreement and shuddered, as if gripped by a memory from the simulated battle. Wally looked off to the side, unable to speak about what he felt, just yet anyway.

Kon lifted his chin and his usual boisterous and cheeky demeanour had slipped, “I don't know if it was worse or not… living longer in that world wasn’t much fun either.” He gently reached a gloved hand to his neck and he closed his eyes, “I can still remember how… my neck…”

He coughed and shook his head, clamming up from talking through the experience of it all.

Kory looked towards Raven and tilted her head, as if encouraging her to speak about how she had felt, “Raven?”

She lifted her head and lowered the hood of her cloak from her head, “I… It was… I’ve seen terrible things before. Being the daughter of an interdimensional demon will do that but this… it was barbaric and I hope it never actually comes to pass.”

Dick nodded, “Well… this is why the league is trying to come up with a more solid plan, a way to be ready should Darkseid be a problem we need to worry about.” He paused and shrugged, “Safe to say… Clark’s plan of going head on into a war with Darkseid on his home world is no longer the plan on the table.”

“There were too many inconsistencies and problems with his plan. But, it would have been intriguing to see if it worked, had Darkseid not found out through Cyborg’s cybernetics.” Damian pointed out, looking mildly indifferent,

Nodding, Dick eyed his adoptive younger brother for a long moment, “And what about you, Damian?”

Damian looked up, his arms folded over his chest and a scowl on his face. For a moment, he did nothing more than stare at Dick before his features softened ever so slightly and he frowned, “It isn’t something that I ever wish to see again.”

Knowing that was all Damian was willing to give them, at least for tonight, Dick exhaled and nodded once, signalling that he didn’t expect more.

He glanced towards his girlfriend whose concern was almost tangible, just from the way her face was contorted. She chewed on her lip for a long time before she sighed and her shoulders fell,

“We will revisit this tomorrow. I do not want anyone to feel like this was something small. If anything, I wish the league had given us more of a warning of what we were going into.” Kory commenting, briefly locking her gaze with Dick’s who looked equally as unhappy that they had been left out of the loop,

“Yeah, I think I’ll be giving Bruce a call tomorrow.” He paused and addressed the younger Titans once more, “And… Kory and I will be arranging some therapy sessions with a league member to deal with the things you saw.”

“I don’t think we need-”

Dick cut Damian off with a raised hand, “We’re not going to force you guys into them but they will be made available to you all, should you need to talk to someone.”

Damian pressed his lips into a thin line and gave Dick one sharp nod.

“Do you guys mind if we… go to bed now? I kinda just wanna sleep it off…” Gar muttered, tapping his fingertips together,

Kory smiled and nodded, “Of course, Gar. Dick and I are going to make sure the Tower is all locked up before we go home but we will be back in the morning…” She paused and let her eyes wander across them, “And I believe morning training can be cancelled tomorrow.”

Gar suddenly perked up at that news, “Yes! I get to sleep in!”

She giggled whilst Dick smirked and rolled his eyes, “But… remember, if one of you needs us… just call us. Okay?”

They all nodded their heads in confirmation before they began trudging off towards their rooms, muttering their farewells and goodnights before they left.

Once the main room had practically emptied of Titans, only Damian remained and as he passed by the couple, he stopped and looked up at his brother,

“Apologies for… using the Lazarus Pit on you, Grayson.” He stated, something in his face telling Dick that he had hoped for a better outcome of his decision made within the simulation.

His older brother gave him a brief smile and gripped one of his shoulders with his hand, “It’s alright, Damian. Let’s just hope it never has to come to it where you have to make that kind of choice for real.”

Damian considered that and wished them goodnight before he left for his room as well.

Dick watched him go but his attention was drawn back to the woman standing beside him as she sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

“How’re you feeling, Kor?” He checked, lacing his fingers with hers,

She turned and smiled at him, exhaustion slipping into the creases of her face, “Tired… and wanting to go to bed.”

He matched her smile and lifted her hand to his mouth, dropping a kiss to the back of it, “Don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s go home.”

_______________

Dick took a deep breath as he observed himself in the bathroom mirror, his hair still damp and water dribbling down his face after hopping out of the shower. He was trying his best to remain unaffected by the scenes that had plagued him in the simulation earlier that day but it was proving to be a challenge to just push all of it to the back of his mind.

He couldn’t pinpoint what was the worst part; knowing the world had gone up in flames, knowing his friends and family had mostly perished or been altered into husks of their true selves at the hands of Darkseid or knowing that he had potentially faced a lifetime of insanity due to a botched resurrection, unable to remember himself or those he loved.

It may not have been real but it was difficult, trying to remind himself of that. It was hard to accept that truth when it had felt so very real. Images continued to flash in his mind; memories of what had occurred in that world they had had to endure.

He gritted his teeth and tried to quell the anger bubbling in his chest at the comprehension that Bruce, as well as Diana and Clark, hadn’t felt it necessary to even run their little project by him or Kory first; instead throwing them in blind, along with the younger members of the team.

The rational part of his mind told him it was so they would become immersed within the situation handed to them so that they could act upon instinct whereas knowing ahead, would have compromised how they acted within the simulation.

Still, it was something he would be bringing up to Bruce in the morning.

Taking another deep inhale through his nose, Dick focused on his reflection again, repeating words over and over in his head as a reminder that it wasn’t real. It felt real, but it wasn’t and he had to hold onto that, whatever it took.

He shook his head and reached for the hairdryer, flicking the switch and allowing the hot air from it to fill the bathroom.

As he wandered down the hallway, from the bedroom he shared with Kory, he couldn’t help but wonder where she had disappeared to. Their apartment was only so big, meaning if she wasn’t in their room already then she had to be out in the main room.

“Kory?” He called as he stepped over the threshold between the corridor and the main living area.

Dick reached over and flicked one of the light switches, allowing the glow of the bulbs to illuminate the room; a much more welcomed atmosphere than being swallowed up by the night time darkness.

He blinked in surprise to see her standing by the far wall where the floor to ceiling window overlooked the bustling street below the building. It was still painted with bright lights and the buzz of people hanging out with friends, despite it being well past midnight.

She turned to him, as if not having heard him the first time around.

“Babe, what’re you doing all in the dark?” Dick asked, walking around the side of the couch, towards her.

Kory shook her head, as if lost in a world of her own but he knew her better than that. He knew what was haunting her mind since it was the only thing that could be the culprit.

“Hey… c’mere…” He murmured, offering her a hand to take.

She stepped closer and accepted, tangling her fingers with his until Dick gently pulled her down onto the sofa with him. He tugged her closer, using his free arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“I am sorry… I just…” She whispered, her usually bouncy personality seemingly absent for the time being,

“It’s okay… it scared me too.” He admitted,

Finally, she lifted her chin, her solid green gaze fixed on his cerulean orbs. She gave into a trembling breath before she spoke, “I have seen many merciless things, Dick. Growing up on a hostile planet such as my own, it was not uncommon to see bloodshed but… this… it was different.”

He nodded as he listened to her, gently stroking her upper arm as she talked.

“Having to watch those I love being slaughtered… to then die myself and be brought back as a… mindless slave to such a dictator…” She shook her head minutely, unsure what to make of it,

“I know it was only a simulation to test out the league’s contingency plan for if Darkseid does become a more imminent threat but… it feels as real as anything we’ve faced before.” Dick told her,

She felt tears prick her eyes for a brief moment as she thought back on the end of their virtual reality and she snuggled closer to him, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath her slender fingers.

“The worst part was that I no longer had you.” She confessed quietly.

He inclined his head to look at her and furrowed his brows, “You… sorta still had me.”

She pulled a face at him and glanced down to where her hand rested on his chest, “But I didn’t. It wasn’t you, anymore. Living on as… what that thing turned me into and having a shell of who you are… it is not a life I would ever wish upon myself. It would have been a fate worse than death.”

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed his cheek to hers, trying to remind her that he was here with her and they were together.

“Apparently not even being insane can take me away from you.” He mentioned, attempting to inject some kind of humor into the situation, if just to uplift the mood in some way.

She blinked at him before she laughed, just a small sound under her breath but he was happy with it nonetheless.

“You know… I wouldn’t want it either, Kory.” He paused, “In the training… after the pit… I was watching myself and living it… I couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t recognize any of my friends or family… and I don’t ever want that to happen. I never want to be brought back.”

Kory opened her mouth, as if going to question it but he cut her off,

“Ever. Even if… I die before you and you’re stricken with uncontrollable grief… please don’t ever let it happen.”

She gazed at him for a long time but soon nodded her head, vowing not to bring him back, no matter what.

After a long stretch of comfortable silence, Dick sighed and kissed her temple, murmuring, “I have a feeling sleep isn’t coming easily to either of us tonight… why don’t we watch a movie and I’ll make some popcorn?”

Kory smiled softly and nodded, brushing her fingers across his cheek, “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Glad you approve.” He grinned, gently using his free hand to cup her jaw and lead her into a kiss.

It started as something slow and easy, acting as a reaffirmation of being safe and sound with one another. But, Kory tilted her head, pressing her lips to his more firmly, enjoying the warmth that sparked wherever they met.

Dick slid his hand along her jawline, his fingers becoming knotted in her gorgeous red tresses. He ran his tongue along her lower lip, nipping and suckling the skin there.

Kory made a muffled sound and lifted both hands to place against either side of her love’s face.

When she pulled away, she smiled gently and brushed her nose against his until he rested his forehead against hers.

“I know we’ve had a hell of a day… with the training and everything but… it wasn’t real. I’m still here and so are you. We’ve got each other and I don’t plan on giving you up anytime soon, Kory.” Dick whispered, stroking his thumb against her skin.

“I know… I love you.” She breathed, nuzzling his cheek with her own,

“Love you too, babe.” He flashed her one of his boyish grins and tilted his head, “Gotta make every day count together.”

Kory nodded and smiled back at him, “Together.”

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raineydaywrites · 4 years

Text

thrall (def.) a state of servitude or submission

I’m doing @febuwhump this month! Day 1: Mind control

Lucretia hadn't expected the design of her relic to be so prophetically symbolic But some days now, it felt like her staff was the only thing still holding her up.

She couldn't rest though. She had to keep looking. Most of the relics weren't active constantly, but they tended to cycle in and out of usage. She didn't know what happened to them in the in-between periods, and she didn't particularly want to.

If the cycles continued as they normally did, then the next one to activate would be Lup's. The Phoenix Fire Gauntlet, as some people on the plane had named it, whispered in both awe and horror. Lucretia had always found the name poetic, but ironic, and very accurate to Lup herself.

The Gauntlet was bad, but it was predictable, and Lucretia appreciated that. The Gauntlet would appear, along wide its Phoenix, and they would find someone to burn to the ground. Often, the person in question would be despicable in some way, but the Phoenix could never seem to keep the anger and flame contained to them alone, and whole cities would burn with them on occasion, often filled with innocents.

The awfulness of each primary target made Lucretia wonder if some part of Lup was still there, within the Phoenix, but she kind of hoped not. Because if Lup was aware of herself, then it would absolutely kill her when she remembered her collateral damage.

It was horrible, that her best case scenario was the brain death of her loved ones, but at least that would mean that they weren't suffering.

Sometimes, she swore that Captain Davenport was still there, but those moments never lasted long before he fell back into fantasy and illusion and his own mind.

They hadn't expected this, when they'd made their devices. They had known that their relics would have a thrall effect, but they had thought that their familiarity with the Light of Creation and their exposure to their objects during the crafting process would immunize them to the effects of their device and each others'.

They had been wrong.

They had put their individual fraction of Light into their objects together, intending it to be a show of solidarity and support.

Instead, it had ensured that none of them were safe from the thrall.

Lucretia knew that she herself was being influenced by the thrall of her Staff, but she had largely been able to retain her sense of self through it. Her device focused on abjuration- protection- and she had already been willing to do just about anything to protect her loved ones and the innocents of this plane, no thrall required. Besides which, her love for her family kept her sane. She needed to protect them most of all, and that focus and goal kept her mind where it was supposed to be.

She had made a list of potential targets for the Phoenix when next she rose, and her Seekers would keep an eye for any sign of trouble, so that she could arrive and do her best to safeguard the innocent civilians surrounding the target.

If she put up enough barriers and shields, then many of them could get out safely, and Lup, if anything was left of her, would know that she hadn't killed everyone. And eventually, the Phoenix would burn herself out, and the fires would die too. Not long after that, Barry would arrive to revive Lup, but the Phoenix would still go dormant for a while afterwards.

It was disconcerting to see Barry now. They had all gotten used to the sight of their liches, but it was more alarming to see him when he was so clearly empty. The Phantom wasn't Barry in the same way that the Phoenix wasn't Lup. And it made him feel wrong to look at.

Still, she was grateful for him. He and his device were the only reason that they weren't dead. Their devices could absolutely wreck through their wielders, and Barry kept it from being permanent.

The other devices tended not to be as lethal as Lup's Gauntlet, but they could be.

Merle was the next most likely to be killed by his device, because his new role as Guardian of Nature left him sowing creation and destruction in equal measure, and sometimes it ripped him apart.

Taako was probably only still alive because of Barry's actions. Every time Lucretia saw or heard about him now, he was different, but one thing remained the same. He was no longer made of flesh and bone, but gemstones or precious minerals or expensive fabrics. Whatever material had caught his fancy recently. It must be Barry's Bell that kept Taako's soul in that ever-changing vessel.

Captain Davenport and Magnus were the only two that hadn't died from their relics, as far as Lucretia knew at least. That didn't mean they weren't still suffering.

Davenport's illusions had not damaged his body, but they did seem to have dragged his mind somewhere else. He didn't seem to be aware of anything around him. She supposed the upside to that was that his device was no longer hurting anyone else.

Lucretia had been brought back by Barry a time or two as well. Her Staff didn't often hurt her very much, but it did put a strain on her body and mind, and sometimes she simply collapsed from it. The first time, she had thought that was it. She had failed her friends and this plane.

But then Barry had arrived- the Phantom had arrived, but he looked so much like Barry in that moment, smiling warmly at her and extending his hand to help her stand. He'd asked if she'd like to continue living.

She hadn't been sure that the truthful answer was 'yes', but she'd given it anyway. She had no other choice.

It had been easier when she'd had Magnus to help her. They had founded the Bureau together, sought solutions to save their friends and protect this plane at the same time, and she'd had a lot more hope of success then.

He'd resisted the thrall of his device at first- the only one of them who had managed that feat. He'd told her that the Chalice had offered the chance to go back and change the past, but he'd been unwilling to do so, as it would cause him to lose his relationships with them- his new family- and it would mean he couldn't have saved all the planes that they'd helped along the way.

That initial rejection had saved him from being thralled, but the Chalice had still whispered to him that he could use it to save the rest of them from their devices. It had tempted him often, and Lucretia was very proud of how long he'd held out against it.

But then, he'd fallen in love with a woman who had joined their Bureau, and he married her, and then, she took him to visit her hometown, and they hadn't come back. And that had been the straw that broke Magnus' back. She hadn't seen him since, but she knew that the Chalice had been activated.

Apparently, the full force of the six remaining devices united against one man as they had been against Governor Kalen was terrifying to behold, but Lucretia had no active memory of it, and couldn't confirm, but she did know that the place where Kalen had died no longer existed, completely obliterated by the force of their combined assault.

Her Bureau didn't know the full story of the devices, but they knew that the people wielding them were not acting of their own free will. It had been important to Lucretia that they know that, because it would kill her if either her friends or her employees got hurt because they got into conflict with each other.

As she laid her head down to sleep, her Staff slipped from her fingers, but it didn't go far. It couldn't do so while still exerting influence over her, so neither of them would let it.

She felt her mind drifting away, and didn't realize where it was drifting until she opened her eyes to see Barry smiling at her.

"Hi, Lucy," he greeted, voice warm and inviting.

She nearly sobbed at the greeting. It had been so long since anyone called her that. Her employees were kind and they respected her, but they didn't really treat her as an equal. And she was so used to being the whole crew's baby sister, that the role reversal was even more isolating.

"Would you like to live again?" Barry asked, coming close to her and grabbing her hand.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. He held on just as tightly to her.

"No exchange needed, of course. Family discount," Barry's voice chuckled into her ear. His body rumbled with his laughter, and it put her at ease.

"I miss you," Lucretia said. She generally tried not to think about that, because it would kill her to think about it too often. But she missed her family so much.

"I'm right here," Barry responded.

"Are you?" Lucretia wondered. It was hard, to see him like this. Because either he was really here and himself, which meant that all of them had retained some sense of self through this and were therefore suffering, or it meant that the Phantom was manipulating her by using the image of a member of her family, and that would mean that her family was truly gone entirely.

There were no good options, and Lucretia was tired of it.

She stayed like that for a long time, breathing in the presence of someone she could at least pretend was family, until Barry pulled back gently.

"It's almost morning. Time for you to get up," he said.

"Okay," she said, voice breaking only a little.

"You got this, Lucy. It's not the first time you've been alone remember?" Barry said, with a sudden intensity that she hadn't seen from the Phantom before. "We're countin' on you again. I trust you."

Lucretia woke with tears on her face, but her body felt lighter than it had in a long time.

She left her room quickly, and got back to work.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday1 #taz balance #lucretia adventurezone #taz lucretia #barry bluejeans #mind control #major character death #but not graphic and they're fine #cause its taz

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the-darklings · 5 years

Text

—WE WERE A FIRE WITH NO SMOKE;

pairing: santino x reader (V) x (+john)

wc: 1.4k+

an: HAPPY NEW YEARS YA FILTHY ANIMALS!!! A little surprise something-something to tide you all over and flex my writing muscles to see how I’m getting on after 4-day detox from writing. I’m honestly exhausted and short on sleep which made me half-delirious and this little drabble wayyy too h*rny but here we are. Also, the title/lyrics for this piece comes from Troye Sivan’s “DKLA” and I highly recommend you listen to it while reading.

warnings: some bad words and a lot of sexual tension 👀

timeline: post chapter 1 of COA, pre-Tokyo (not their first meeting).

Santino D’Antonio does not know nor understand subtlety.

No—that’s not quite right. His “business” instincts are sharper than most of your blades and that’s just facts. He can effortlessly weave between disarming charm and rage that spills blood in a blink of an eye. He’s a good mobster. Truly Italy’s—Camorra’s—finest. But he’s irritatingly arrogant in his insistence that the world revolves around him and his needs alone. Even quicker in betraying those he doesn’t like and cutting loose ends with people who so much as question his authority.

Egoistical. Inpatient. Spoiled. Bloodthirsty. Willing to step over anyone to get his way.

There isn’t much to like. Certainly nothing worthy of trust.

But he pays good money. And—despite what he may think—he’s easy to read. He wants what everyone in the underworld wants. More power, more pleasure, more money. But most importantly, to be the next Camorra head.

He’s powerful. And not the kind of powerful you need as your enemy so it’s easier to play nice. You know that the reason you got off as easy as you did with that threat to his life was simply because he wants to sleep with you. Because he sees you as a challenge, a conquest, something interesting and out of his immediate reach.

He’s handsome, that much is true. He’s beyond rich and has influence everywhere because he’s Camorra. Because he’s a D’Antonio. He’s all sly, seductive suggestions and eyes so bright they devour.

There’s only one problem.

He’s not John.

John who is a comforting shadow for you to curl into. Who is a steady, ever-present by your side. John is—

John is the only person you trust—the only one you could ever trust in this world of liars and backstabbers. Your mind drifts towards him constantly and never more so then when you work with D’Antonio. They’re as different as day and night.

John is a comforting embrace of the dark, quiet and patient. Deadly and terrifying to others but never you.

Santino D’Antonio is an open flame. He devours, he burns, and rages. He leaves only blood and damage in his wake.

John you love.

D’Antonio on the other hand…

“Target has his eyes on us,” you speak directly into his ear over the sound of blaring music, and tighten your arms around his neck. Noting the way you’re being watched, you hiss a soft, “Pull me closer.”

He doesn’t need to be told again.

His already wandering, lingering, greedy hands and eyes explore further. Your eyes meet for a moment; his hungry and hooded, while his fingers sink into the swell of your hip, massaging the skin there before pushing your hips together. You sway with him, pressing against him—into him—one hand snaking up the hot skin of his neck and into his hair. The styled curls crumble under your unyielding grip and you pull him even closer, your foreheads almost touching and breaths mingling.

Wrapped my thoughts around your mind

Wrapped your body around mine.

You have to be convincing, you remind yourself.

You have to appear as nothing more than another whore on D’Antonio’s arm.

You have to be a nobody, a shadow, a shell without purpose other than this man’s pleasure.

You think about John with every press and brush of your skin.

Think of John’s hands on you and John’s obsidian eyes caressing you like you’re lovers moments away from kissing each other.

You take my breath away, you know I'm bound to choke

When I close my eyes. I still see your ghost.

But Santino D’Antonio doesn’t touch you like John does.

He caresses, and claims, and consumes with a startling amount of intensity. You feel that fire of his singeing your edges, dangerous and seductive in its overpowering heat.

His fingers are sunk into you, not enough to hurt but enough to feel held, guided, desired and the music becomes nothing more than a pulse.

His hot, wet breath burns against the hollow of your throat and you feel him mumbling something into your skin. It could be a prayer or damnation or both but all you know is that it sears into your skin. A mark, a show, of his raw desire for you. It tingles and tickles, kicking your heartbeat up a notch and your grip on his curls constricts; a warning, a question—

You don’t even like him. In fact, you only tolerate him because he’s willing to throw money at you for jobs that can help you get your freedom from Tarasov faster.

But human bodies are so simple. The draw on a purely physical level is there despite your lacklustre opinion of the man himself.

He doesn’t make it any easier when his eyes lift to you, his stare almost a physical weight of heated want. A man starved; a man who is staring at your mouth like it’s the only thing that can save him right now. Like he needs it, craves it, above everything else.

If half the stories about his sexual exploits are true, then it’s a look many have crumbled under. Truth be told, looking at him right now, you can’t blame them. There is, admittedly, something so raw about Santino D’Antonio that you can’t help but wonder what kind of lover he is.

So what do I do now?

I don't keep love around.

But Santino D’Antonio is nothing in your heart. Your heart is John’s in its awful, worn entirety and you won’t trade that in for meaningless sex no matter how good D’Antonio might be.

The tempo of the song changes again and he tugs you closer, his hand coming to rest against the curve of your neck. His cool Camorra ring grazes your skin lightly, and your head tilts to the side exposing your neck to him. He leans into it, his lips ghosting over your pulse, hungry and eager as he inhales deeply over the thrum of music. But across the sturdy line of his shoulder, you watch your mark intently.

“D’Antonio, he’s moving—”

“Santino,” he breathes hotly into your ear, his arm around your waist tightening. “Call me Santino.”

It stills something inside you for a second.

The heavy, naked need that lowers and wrecks his voice just so.

It’s an honour. An heir allowing you to address them by their first name, considering that you hold no real power or title of your own. But something about how he asks for it leaves you cold, caught completely off guard.

It feels like too much.

There is a boundary you will never step over with him.

Some arrogant Italian princeling who only wants your body for quick gratification.

“Should I pursue?”

He stills. His breath still fans against your neck but his expression is serious when his head lifts. His fingers trace up your bare arm, slow and sensual, and he grins slightly, coolly. Neon lights dance over his features and wonder what you both look like, tangled in each other and suddenly still in a sea of movement.

“Bring him to me.”

You do.

No loose ends.

The man you only know as Flynn Hill dies with your poison eroding his veins from inside out. In the darkness of the alleyway, Santino D’Antonio looms over him, smiling and satisfied, his appearance once again immaculate.

“Everything has a price,” he says coldly in Italian with a clinical tilt of his head and a small scoff when the man stills. “Pathetic.”

He turns dismissively, shrugs on his overcoat, and glances towards you. His eyes sweep over you, up and down, unhurried and hungry as always.

“Coming, cara mia?”

Cara mia?

You turn to face him, and repeat his earlier gesture by looking him up and down. His gaze sharpens at the challenge, and you don’t miss the way he straightens slightly.

Just like you thought—he doesn’t know subtlety. It could smack him in the face and he still won’t know it.

“The drinks are on you and I’m not cheap,” you hesitate for a beat, considering the man in front of you as well as his pack of guards scattered around you. “Santino.”

You sidestep him, heading back towards the club but hear the man chuckle in delight behind you.

“Everything has a price,” he repeats softly as he falls to your side promptly. Close, a bit too close. “But it’s one I am happy to pay in this instance, cara mia.”

You bite back an irritated sigh. Let him have this. He no doubt thinks this is a victory.

That night is the first time he uses those words and that nickname.

It’s far from last.

. . .

an: well this literally had one read through as an edit so if this is awful and full of mistakes.....guess that’s tomorrow kat’s problem lol. just wanted to see how I get on with writing again (and surprise you lot <33 thank you for supporting this series so much oh god oof).

This piece dips back a bit more into my old style (description heavy and more internal) but writing V who is like “this man clearly wants to bang but it’s a no from me, thanks” is so funny. If I wasn’t half dead I would have tried to write this as more snarky (as V indeed was back in Chapter 1-2) but that actually requires brainpower and wit so nahhhh.

also, let’s make 2020 ours. no more putting up with anything!!! let’s go!!!! this year we all channel V and become stronger and fight through our problems no matter how long it takes us.

#santino d'antonio x reader #john wick x reader #santino d'antonio #john wick #john wick imagine #john wick fic #fic: children of ares #s: i can wait

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sebbybooks · 4 years

Text

Our Vintage Summers (PT2)

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

~ She was his one. He was her only. Not even the essence of time could keep them apart.~

He was in my house.

After Sebastian turned down the invitation to come over tonight he showed up hours later right as the storm made its ways towards us. Sebastian was somewhere downstairs talking with my sister, because I could hear her overly enthused laughter fill up the entire house. Anya called for me to join them once more but my legs felt full of heavy metal. I was still clutching onto the picture that rendered me voiceless. Standing at the top of the staircase staring back at it under better lighting the exact year was unclear, but if I had to take a shot in the dark I’d say this was taken around the time a gallon of gas was only a quarter. Despite the couple in the photo sharing our exact features there was no way that they could really be Sebastian and I.

Each step that I took down the stairs felt like I was walking into the eye of the storm and no amount of positive affirmations could calm my shaky nerves. I wasn't sure what I planned on doing once I was face to face with Sebastian again. A thousand thoughts swarmed through my mind with questions on top of questions. In the end none of them had practical explanations or made any sense whatsoever. Considering I found the picture in plain sight surely that meant my grandmother knew about it. I wondered if she wanted me to find it and that's why she left me her house? The one thing that I knew for certain was that Sebastian being here was no coincidence. I mean after all he had dropped into my life with such curious timing.

"Finally! We were going to send a search and rescue party up there if you didn't come back down sooner!" Anya waved me into the living room where everyone was seated. It didn't take me more than two seconds to spot Sebastian. I studied his face like it was the ceiling at the Sistine Chapel hoping to see something remotely different than what was photographed. The only differences I spotted was the clothes and hair. In the picture the man’s hair was shorter and curlier from what I could tell. The Sebastian that was present in my house had much longer hair that was pulled back. His face was clean shaven it showed off all the imperfections that he did not have on the outside. Apart from those two things both guys were identical and it fucking terrified me.

"I went looking for candles." There wasn't an ounce of moisture in my mouth. My throat felt so dry you'd think I swallowed a jar of cotton balls. I took baby steps as I entered into the room feeling like my world was titling on its axis. Remi moved a spot down on the sofa assuming that I was going to join her. The thought of being only a few feet away from Sebastian for some reason halted me in my place. Sebastian was sitting on the edge of a tufted gray ottoman in the center of the room as he shook beads of water from his hair. His clothes were so soaked they practically formed to his body. Just from seeing him for five seconds the tightness in my chest returned with a vengeance. It was as though my own body hummed to life in his presence. I had to steady my breathing if I didn't want to heighten the sensation of having what felt like a premature heart attack.

"And did you find any?" Anya asked.

"What's the point the lights are back on now." I cut her off as I twist in the direction to face my sister who eyed me skeptically.

"I didn't mean to show up like this in the middle of the night unannounced. I seemed to have run into some car trouble trying to get back on the road. This house was the first place within miles." When Sebastian stood up I paid absolutely no mind to the visible formation of his chest through his wet tshirt. The polaroid was still folded in the palm of my hand and when I felt no one was looking I shoved it in my back pocket.

The smile adorning his face slowly began to fade when he realized I hadn't spoken a word to him yet. There was so much that I wanted to ask him. I just didn’t know what was the right thing to say that didn’t make me come across as someone who escaped an insane asylum. We were not friends and we were barely acquaintances. For all I knew I just let in a complete stranger who spoke of my grandmother like she was a darling saint. All I could do was mentally laugh at the thought. I wonder did he even know her at all?

“Well it's a good thing you have been here before and knew the way back.” I briskly left back out of the area not exactly caring that I wasn't acting like myself. At that moment I can honestly can say that not a single fuck was given. It wasn’t like I was going to confront him in the middle of the living room and have five pairs of eyes look at me like a deranged woman. Though by the looks of it I did that on my own already. Hitting me like a wrecking ball all of a sudden a wave of tiredness passed through my body. The idea of getting rest felt like a turn on, and yet there wasn't a chance in hell that I was going to be able to fall asleep tonight. I sensed someone hot on my heels, but I was too lost in thought as I scrummaged around the kitchen cupboards looking for something strong to drink.

I never caught a whiff of alcohol in my grandmother’s possession for as long as I stayed in her care. She probably assumed Anya an I were deviants and couldn’t be trusted to be under the same roof as it. It was a miracle when I located a bottle of Prichard's Tennessee whiskey hidden away above the kitchen shelf. Half of it was already gone it was probably just another thing my grandmother kept to herself. She kept her life tucked away like she was forcibly trying to keep everyone at bay. I just never understood why.

“Mind if I join you?” I spun around immediately almost tripping over my own two feet.

I shielded the bottle underneath my arm looking back at Sebastian like I had just been caught. “I really hate to keep asking you for favors but can I get some ice for my hand?” He held up his wrist and the back of his knuckles were bloodied. His hand looked like he was in a wrestling match with the member in the Fantastic Four, the one known as Thing.

"That looks pretty bad." I say.

He nodded in agreement. "Surprisingly it doesn't hurt right now. I know if I don't put ice on it soon I'll be paying the price in the morning." Sebastian's mouth set in a discontented line.

I removed the whisky from my hold placing it on top of the kitchen island. My back was turned away from him as I paced around the kitchen getting the stuff he needed for his hand. I could feel his eyes watching my every movement and it didn’t help knowing that there was a photo burning a hole in my back pocket. “Do I even want to know what happened?” I asked absentmindedly.

“It’s kind of a long and complex story.” He tells me.

The bitter tone in Sebastian’s voice made me wonder if the torn flesh on his skin was accidental or intentional? All I knew was that it was a can of worms I did not want to open considering I was already trying to make sense of seeing my face in a completely different time period. My hands were busy putting ice cubes in a cloth that I found in a random drawer. I tied it in a knot at the end before handing it off to Sebastian. "Then why don't you just skip to the ending?"

A strangled laugh erupts from his throat. "That's the problem. . . there isn't one." He leaned forward on the counter that separated us and for a brief moment I sensed that he wanted to say more but chose differently. It was almost like he was fighting with himself about what was going on in his head. Perhaps he was telling the truth about leaving Nantucket he had changed out of his clothes from the beach. Sebastian's sleeves were bunched up his arm near his elbows, and there was no denying that this guy went to the gym.

"Wait!" I blurted. Acting on instinct I lunged forward taking back the ice rag I had just given Sebastian. He looked at me confused and I don't blame him for it. "I really think you should clean that first to prevent an infection." I wasn't sure why I cared so much it was no skin off my back if he didn't take my advice. Despite my better judgement the hushed voices in my head kept pushing me and pushing me to keep him close.

"Sia it's really not that bad." Sebastian looked down at his battered hand assessing the damage himself.

"Don't say I didn't warn you when a nasty bacteria festers on your hand." I say nonchalantly all the while hoping he changes his mind. Sebastian scrubs his hand over his jaw while looking at me with wonder.

"Isn't that little extreme don't you think?"

"Suit yourself then." I shrug.

I placed the ice rag back on the counter for him to get. I grabbed the whisky bottle by the neck and headed over to the cupboard to get a drinking glass. Before I walked away to leave out of the kitchen Sebastian responds. "Ok fine you're right." He lets out a little sigh finally caving in.

It was a small victory I'm not quite sure why I was so elated that I won. My emotions were constantly flip flopping in his presence I was having a hard time keeping up with myself. In my head I alternate the decision of showing him the picture now or wait for the right moment. The problem was there wasn't a right moment and it wasn't like he was going to stay in this kitchen forever.

"Let me go get a first aid kit." I tap my fingers on the countertop, wondering to myself what on earth was I doing? I purposely avoided going into the living room because if it's one thing that I knew about my big sister it was that she had a talent for smelling out bullhsit. I couldn't even lie to her as a kid. It wasn't a skill I could easily master and keeping secrets from her practically duals as lying in my book.

Despite me not being in this house for more than a decade my feet guided me through the house on muscle memory. I was headed for the guest bathroom on the first floor. It was the only bathroom Anya and I were allowed to use despite there was at least two bathrooms on every floor. As I thought to myself I started to take notice that this placed hadn't looked lived in for years. So I could only assume that the medicine cabinets were bare. The bathroom door was closed and a dim light shinned from underneath.

I heard a voice coming from behind the door so I stood quiet next to it long enough to hear that it belonged to Anya. Her voiced sounded muffled as though she was purposely trying to talk in a hush tone. The conversation sounded one sided because I could only hear her voice. "What am I suppose to do mom? She's suppose to remember by now that's what you said."

Silence followed after that and I could hear my sister stomping her feet against the tiled floor. I thought about knocking on the door to see what had gotten her so upset, because I didn't like that I was ease dropping. However, what she said next stopped me.

"I checked everywhere mother!" Anya exclaimed out of frustration before resuming to a lowered tone again. "She didn't leave anything behind. What if you were wrong and this time is different?" There was a beat of silence again and all I could hear was faint sniffling. From the sound of it Anya had been crying.

I counted to five in my head before I started to knock on the door. Anya began wrapping up the call with our mom. The water from the sink started to run then within a minute Anya had the door open with a fake smile on her face.

"Sia! Heeey!" Her voice drawled out as she ran her hand through her wavy black hair that was a stark contrast from my own. My hair started to gray at the ripe young age of sixteen. When I noticed that it was changing at a rapid pace and I couldn't keep up with dying my roots. I eventually said fuck it and died it a silvery gray. It took some getting use to but the look eventually grew on me.

"What are you doing down here? Don't you have some new furniture you want to sit on?" Anya's mischievous smile grew big, while trying to make her voice sound as casual as possible. As per usual I caught the sense that this was her way of trying to deflect on the conversation she had with our mother. It was hard trying to decode what the hush whispering was about. I knew if I brought up what I overheard Anya would finesse her way out of telling me the truth like always.

"Are you talking about Sebastian?"I asked, feigning stupid.

She frowned looking completely annoyed at my inept ability to posses a dirty mindset like her own. "Of course I'm talking about Sebastian! I'm sorry did you not see the way he was devouring you with his eyes just a few minutes ago?"

I couldn't control the laughter that came out of my mouth. "Devouring me with his eyes?" I repeated. "Have you found yourself in mom's stash of Nora Roberts books again?"

"No need." She said before hesitating, "I have them downloaded on my kindle smart ass."

When I tried stepping around her to get into the bathroom she blocked me from going inside. Positioning herself in the center of the door, while out stretching her arms so that I wouldn't surpass her.

I cocked a brow. "Do you mind? I need to get some things out of here." Considering our height difference wasn't on an even playing field I wasn't in the mood to tackle my sister. I just wanted to get the items that I needed and go back to the kitchen.

"I'm just going to say it. I think you should sell the damn place." She came out and said not missing a single beat.

"Anya I haven't even signed my name on the deed yet. Beside this property has been in our family for generations doesn't that mean something to you in the slightest?" I asked her. Instead of giving me a more practical response Anya dropped her arm in surrender. "No it does not."

We stood eye to eye with lingering silence between us until she caved and sauntered down the hall huffing like a child once again. Instead of chasing her down and asking her where the hell that random question came from all of a sudden. I shelved it next to the other unanswered questions I had gnawing on my brain. I quickly scavenged around the bathroom for what I needed. All I found was antiseptic ointment that barely made its expiration date and with luck gauze. When I went back into the kitchen Sebastian was sitting on top of a counter with his back against a wall. His lips were wrapped around the bottle of whiskey as he downed it like it was water, and he was a man dying of thirst.

"Your chest must burn by now ." I said in amusement as I placed the stuff I procured next to him. "And who said I was sharing that?" I pointed to the bottle in his hands.

He smiled and flicked his eyes to his drink before bringing it back to his mouth. I don't understand why but my mind seems to turn into putty when he stares at me like he sees every intimate little detail about me. Which is strange because I've only see him twice, yet ever since that moment on the beach I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I'm pretty sure I might have manifested his car breaking down only for him to return.

"Considering that it's mine may have something to do with it." He swept his tongue across his bottom lip, making sure to savor every last drop. The raspy tone in his voice alone could kill me.

"So you're admitting to drinking on the job then?" I cleared my throat while I unraveled the gauze. I wanted to focus on the task at hand, because being only a few inches apart was becoming harder than I thought.

"It was from your grandmother. It was a here you might want to drink this first kind of gift." He leaned his back against the cabinets and our eye contact was immediately broken.

"Oh." I said unsure of what he meant by that. It was hard trying to envision the version of my grandmother he knew. This coming from the same woman who told me not to chew gum around her, because it made me look like a cow chewing cud. I found it a bit unbelievable that there was a benevolent and even considerate side to her.

"May I?" I asked, gesturing towards his hand. My heart was thudding rapidly against my chest like I had never laid eyes on a man before. I was fighting with the primal instinct to sink my teeth into him. At least Anya would be proud to know that the apple didn't fall too far from the tree.

Without even waiting for permission I gently lifted his hand while I ran it under the sink. During the first half I worked in an awkward silence. Getting lost in my thoughts I kept replaying moments that took place in the day that seems like it would never come to an end. I thought about the fact that my grandmother was gone and she was never coming back. An after the rocky history I had with her of all the people she could have picked she chose me to be the one to get this house. It didn't make sense to me whatsoever and to top it off her unlikely friendship with Sebastian was even more puzzling to my mind. Something just didn't add up to me.

"I'm starting to sense that you're not a talkative person." Sebastian says before he takes another swig of whiskey.

Still looking down I paid attention to my handiwork as I lightly dabbed his hand with antiseptic ointment. "Actually I'm a very talkative person. I just don't know you that well."

"Fair enough." I didn't have to look up to see he was inhaling his drink like a fish at this point. I wondered if Sebastian was using the alcohol to mask his own grief. I may not have understood his relationship with my grandmother but he lost her too I suppose.

Reaching up I decided to take the bottle out of his hands. "You could at least leave some for me." I brought it up to my mouth feeling the liquid fire smoothly glide down my throat. Sebastian holds my stare like before but this time I was the first to break. It was like we were playing some unspoken game of cat and mouse. It was an unnecessary tease that cultivated out of thin air.

Sebastian wets his lips. "Can I confess something to you Sia?" For a second my heart stopped. All the air going to my lungs felt trapped at the thought that Sebastian knew about the photo as well.

"That depends." I huffed out an elongated sigh. Instead of answering his question I responded with one of my own."Are you going to tell me what happened to your hand first?" I carefully watched as his chest rises and falls. He pins me with a hopeless expression as he searches my face like it was an antidote for his misery. I finish wrapping up his injury, but he doesn't lift his hand from mine. A tortuous heat sweeps over my skin that moves to my very core.

If it were anyone else I'd remove it in a heartbeat. That was the thing though, as crazy as it may have sounded he wasn't anyone else. In my head I sounded like every cliche under the sun but deep down I knew I wasn't wrong. I stared at our semi joint hands, feeling frightened and confused by how a simple touch from Sebastian felt like I had finally reached the end of my crushingly long journey of searching for someone I thought I dreamt up.

Glee, sadness, and pain overwhelming crashed through me all at once. It felt as though my soul was crying from being set free after being caged up for so long. Somehow I had managed to unlock so many emotions, but nothing as much a memory accompanied it. Almost like it was solely a phantom feeling. My body ached for the missing part of me that was no longer there.

"My car is perfectly fine." Sebastian looks deeply into my eyes and not even for a second does it silence the madness in my head. As quickly as I felt it the sensation suddenly was lost. I edged my hand away from him causing his hand to lose support.

My jaw goes rigid and my lips twitch. "I really hope you have a decent explanation as to why you lied to me or I'll have no problem calling the cops." I snap.

Sebastian stiffens. "Sia before you freak out on me let me at least say one thing first." He lifts himself off of the counter in one fluid motion. I slowly back away from him feeling that ounce of whiskey I consumed sour on my stomach while fearing the absolute worse.

"You have less than ten seconds before I start fucking screaming." I threatened. I felt insanely stupid, I knew there was more than meets the eye with him. Good or bad I was too trusting of those feelings I had from earlier that derived from the land of make believe. I saw and felt what I wanted to.

Sebastian tries to approach me, but I hold up my hands to stop him. "I'm not trying to scare you." Looking back at his pleading expression it wavers from disgust to tenderness. I want to believe him, but that is how I fell for his trap in the first place.

"Five seconds." I grit out. Ignoring any of my warnings he takes steps towards me and I'm frozen in place. Sebastian draws in a deep breath, and as he opens his mouth to speak the most insane thing happens before my very eyes. I swear I might have imagined it. One second he was real and standing right in front of me the next I watched as he faded away. Then as if on cue I saw blackness as I felt my body sink to the ground.

Tagged for Updates🐚:

@faithhasnowords @infinityflamesworld

*A/N* Hi lovelies! I hope you all are staying safe at home💕

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exhaustedfander · 4 years

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“What if I told you I love you?” Chapter Three

I know I initially said this was going to be a three-chapter work, but in writing this chapter I realized a fourth one is gonna be necessary. Enjoy, I'd love to hear what you think and have a wonderful day/night.

Word count: 2,143

a03 link

Writing Masterpost link

Previous Chapter

Logan is woken suddenly by the sound of a door slamming against the wall. He shoots up in bed, fumbling for his glasses as he sees Virgil stand to face whoever’s opened the door so violently.

“Leave him the fuck alone, Deceit!” Ah, Janus is here. Wonderful.

“Get out of the way, Virgil. This is no concern of you.”

“No concern of me? Logan’s in a shit mental state, all because of Remus.”

“And you aren’t worried for Remus at all? You two used to spend a lot of time together if I’m not mistaken. You don’t care that he’s hurting too?”

“S-shut up! He did this to himself; he didn’t have to confess to Logan, and not like that. He fucked himself over.”

Virgil guards the doorway protectively, not daring to let the deceitful side enter.

“So you don’t care that he’s crying his eyes out, then? I haven’t seen him so distraught since you left –.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Janus. I know what you’re trying to do and – and it isn’t working. Leave Logan alone.”

“Let him in,” Logan says suddenly, his voice far hoarser than he’d assumed it would be. Virgil swivels to face his friend, concern burning in his eyes.

“But –.”

“It’s okay, Virgil,” he says, in an attempt to reassure the anxious side to the best of his ability in such a state, “Come in, Janus.”

Logan doesn’t miss the hiss Virgil sends Janus’s way as he steps aside and allows him to walk into the room. Logan shoves the blankets off, knowing he must look a fright considering the lack of tie, resemblance to a bird’s nest his hair bears, and his flushed cheeks. Looks like professionalism is out the window, all things considered.

“Logan, I know we’re not exactly on the firmest of footing,” Janus begins, but Logan is quick to interrupt.

“What's happening with Remus? That’s why you’ve come here, isn’t it?” Janus takes a step closer to the bed, ignoring the icy glare Virgil is sending him.

“Yes, it is. I can respect you cutting to the chase –.” “Get to the point, Janus,” Logan cuts in, exhaustion and fear mingling in his tone so that they are almost one entity.

“Virgil,” Janus says, turning to the anxious side, “Could you give us a moment?” Virgil sputters.

“No way! Logan, you don’t seriously want to be in a room alone with this snake, do you?” Logan’s hesitation sparks something in Virgil, panic fluttering. “L, c’mon, man…”

“It’s alright,” he says as reassuringly as he’s able, “I promise, there’s nothing to fear. Janus and I will merely be having a conversation. I know you’re concerned, and I appreciate that, but it’s going to be okay.”

Virgil glowers at Janus, still visibly concerned with the idea of the two of them being alone in the same room. Logan can’t completely fault Virgil; he knows the history of their relationship is complicated, to say the least, and while Janus has gained acceptance into the group, that doesn’t stop Virgil from being wary of him.

“Fine,” Virgil sighs, his body still clearly wound up with tension, “But I won’t be far off. If you need anything, just –.”

“I will come and get you if the need arises,” Logan assures. Virgil nods uneasily, taking a final anxious moment to assess the fact that, perhaps, a conversation with Janus wouldn’t be incredibly dangerous. Once the door is shut, with quite a bit more force than necessary, Janus turns back to Logan, a look of utmost seriousness carved into his face.

“What’s happened with Remus?” Logan asks, despising the rawness to his voice. A look flickers in Janus’s eyes, one that Logan would dare call predatory if it isn't immediately replaced with concern.

“To put it bluntly: he’s a wreck. After your little conversation and the way you so intelligently left the room, he is distraught to a point I haven’t seen in years.”

Logan can feel his heart rate escalating the moment the words leave Janus’s mouth. Remus had confessed his love for him, of all things, and Logan had simply left with no explanation. Even in his state of over-emotion, and so many damned feelings, he knows that was by no means the best course of action. Even so, that doesn’t distract from the fact that Logan’s so lost in his emotions, emotions he’s hesitant to so much as face, he’s drowning in feelings, feelings he was so sure he didn’t have, he’s drowning –

“Lying to yourself won’t help.” Janus’s voice cuts through the jumbled thoughts that crowd his mind. Logan notices that he’s begun to shudder again and wonders how close he is to another breakdown. Surely, Janus won’t be as adept at handling him in that state as Virgil, not that he would want the deceitful side to see him so undignified.

“I – I’m not –.”

“Oh, of course not,” Janus says, voice dripping with sarcasm, “You aren’t lying to yourself. You would never be so desperate to convince yourself that you don’t have feelings for Remus. Am I correct? “I-I…” Logan struggles to dislodge anything more intelligible than that.

“Listen,” Janus says as he sits beside Logan on the bed, “I know this can’t be easy for you. Lord knows feelings are never something that make too much sense. And being Logic, I’m sure you’re doing everything in your power to make sense of them. But that,” Janus says pointedly, “Is precisely your problem. You’re trying to make sense of something that for the most part lacks logic.” Logan casts his eyes down on the comforter, the ache in his chest increasing with each passing moment.

“But I’m Logic. How is it that I can be feeling a-anything of this nature? It-it isn’t right.”

“Yes, Logic is your base function,” Janus agrees, “But that doesn’t stray from the fact that you are far more than that. Surely you don’t think my only purpose is lying?”

“Well, you have impersonated me several times now,” Logan mutters, still not facing Janus. The deceitful side lets out a sigh, silence falling over them for a moment before he speaks up.

“I apologize for any strife I may have caused you,” he says, somewhat apprehensively, but Logan cannot detect any malice or deceit in his tone, “I stand by the fact that I was doing what I needed to do at the time… but I’m sorry, for impersonating you, and for impersonating Patton, and for anything else I’ve done in the past that might be considered malicious.”

“I -,” Logan falters, not having expected such an apology, before deciding on his next words carefully, “I do believe I will be able to accept that apology with time.”

“Then that’s all I can ask for,” Janus says, sounding satisfied on that front, at least for now. “Now, back to the matter at hand.”

“Remus,” Logan says simply, hesitation deeply imbedded in his tone. While Virgil calming him done had done a great deal of good, that didn’t make all this any less difficult. Someone had confessed their love for Logan, Remus had done so, and despite the fear that continues to well inside of him, it's something he's going to have to face sooner or later.

“I know he shouldn’t have done it the way he did,” Janus says tiredly, shutting his eyes as he pinches his temple before looking back at Logan, “God, do I know that. It was clumsy and incredibly overwhelming on your end, I’m sure. But I suppose I wouldn’t expect much else form him.”

“I didn’t mean to cause him emotional distress,” Logan blurts suddenly, more emotion bubbling in him than he realizes, “I would never intentionally – that is, I’m not proficient with issues of this matter. I… feel horrible, for what I must’ve done.” The last sentence is muttered, shame tinting every word. A jolt of shock runs through him as a gloved hand settles on his shoulder.

“I know you didn’t mean to, Logan,” Janus says in a tone that tells Logan he’s doing his best to be comforting, despite the fact that neither of them are really suited for such a thing, “You’re not the type to be so mindlessly cruel. And it’s not as though Remus hasn’t caused you a great deal of your own emotional distress. He didn’t mean to, though I’m sure you know that.

“He tries his best, really, he does, but he doesn’t always know how to conduct himself in the most constructive ways. I tried to stop him from professing to you in such a way, but he refused to listen.”

“How much damage have I done?” Logan asks, taking the first steps into accepting the fact that he needs to do something about this. Janus sighs.

“Nothing you can’t undo, I’m sure,” he says, pausing, “If you’re careful.”

“He… he loves me? He really loves me?”

“He does,” Janus replies, “I haven’t seen him so bright-eyed in such a long time. He speaks with such fondness of you. Talks of you constantly, it’s getting to be quite tiresome – yet, I can’t find it in myself to scold him for it. It’s strangely… sweet. Though, I must say, seeing him walking down the hall with a beating human heart in hand, of origins I cannot possibly say, was cause for alarm.” Logan feels a flush run up his neck.

“I… I was the one who asked for the heart, actually,” Logan admits, no small amount of embarrassment seeping in, “He brought it to me for dissection.” Janus let out a roaring laugh, holding a hand to his head.

“Of course you did,” he said, his chuckle dying down as Logan crossed his arms over his chest, “Why would I expect any different from the likes of you two?” Logan takes a deep breath, and then a few more, allowing himself a final moment to process all he’s been going through emotionally before speaking:

“I love Remus.” Janus claps slowly and dramatically, a level of sarcasm that Logan really isn't in the mood for.

“Congratulations, you’re officially the last one to know.”

“Have I been that obvious?”

“Logan, dear, sweet Logic, a blind man would be able to see how helpless you are for him. And goodness, with Remus following after you like a love-sick puppy (is puppy quite the right word? Rabid, deranged wolf, maybe? Ah, it doesn’t matter) and hanging off of your every word? It’s obvious he feels just the same.”

“It seems as though I’ve been rather foolish, haven’t I?” “You realize you saying that just agrees with what I’ve been saying, don’t you? You and Remus have been acting insufferably stupid, and Remus already acts that way on a regular basis, so I refuse to deal with it from you, too.”

“I – thank you, for this,” Logan says, “It seems I needed some sense talked into me.” Janus nods in agreement, ever one for drama.

“Oh, you most certainly did. But I’m happy to have obliged,” he says, “After all, someone has to look out for Remus.”

Logan can’t help but admire the friendship that Janus and Remus share. He hadn’t realized it was so strong until now, and he certainly hadn’t expected the likes of Janus to be the one to set him on the right path, and yet here he is.

“I’m frightened,” Logan admits, his voice achingly soft, “I’ve already made such a mess of things…”

“That doesn’t mean that they can’t be fixed,” Janus points out, “I trust you’ll be able to work things out just fine. A little misunderstanding doesn’t mean the end of things, and to think as much would be blowing things way out of proportions, I’m sure you realize.”

“Right,” Logan says, the thought of he and Remus no longer having any kind of a relationship disappearing from his mind, “You’re right.” “As much as I love being told I’m right,” Janus says, not skipping out on the sass, “I do believe you’ve got a conversation to attend to.” Logan worries his bottom lip, wringing his hands.

“Yes… I suppose I do. Has… has anyone been with Remus, in the time we’ve been talking?” The idea of Remus being alone now is suddenly very unappealing.

“Yes, Patton’s been sitting with him. It’s not as though I would leave him alone in such a state.”

Okay, that’s better than he might’ve thought. While Patton and Remus by no means always get along, Patton’s far better at handling issues of emotion than most, and he’s certainly in good hands. Logan stands from his bed, catching sight of himself in the mirror and the mess that he is. For a moment, he considers doing something to fix his appearance before deciding getting to Remus now is a time-sensitive issue.

“Best of luck, Logan,” Janus says, with no ounce of deceit. He really is hoping for the best of outcomes, which Logan is thankful for. He isn’t usually one to believe in luck, but he’s fairly sure he’s going to need it.

=+=

#intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #Remus Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #Janus talks some sense into Logan oh boy #Sanders Sides #my writing #exhaustedfander #exhaustedfander writes

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silentexplorer18 · 5 years

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Recovery: A Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter Short

Summary: Coming back to Hogwarts after the war was not a simple task. While everyone may be attempting to recover, recovery isn’t coming easy to some as it is to others.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter (Drarry)

Warnings: A bit of PTSD, guilt, negative self image postwar

Read it here on AO3.

Masterlist

Returning back to Hogwarts after the war wasn’t an easy task.

For some, it was like returning to an old home. The building was damaged and many tablemates were missing, but it was, nonetheless, a place of growth, understanding, and renewal. Hogwarts was home, the real place where these kids grew up, grew into themselves. However, even though that was true for many, a multitude of students had a hard time feeling like they belonged confined within the walls of Hogwarts after such a traumatizing and maturing ordeal.

Everyone was coping in their own way.

Neville was buried in the greenhouse, tending to plants nearly constantly. It gave him a sense of peace, being able to grow and heal such vulnerable things.

Luna was often found wandering toward the thestrals, creatures that now were much more visible to the students returning to study, or wandering about the castle spreading good natured kindness.

Hermione and Ron were inseparable; though it often resulted in one doing an enjoyable task while the other one sat in quaint (or whiney) silence, they tended to enjoy being with one another.

Ginny confidently took on quidditch, pulling a routine into her life once again and pushing herself to be a person her family would be proud of, a person her brothers would be proud of.

But Harry wasn’t handling the transition so well. For once in his life, he had no purpose, no destiny to fulfill. And now he was famous, being traipsed to news agencies and meetings to receive praise for his bravery, for defeating the Dark Lord. He was a hero.

But he didn’t really believe that.

So being back here, surrounded by people, most notably the youngest years, constantly praising him and idolizing him for his bravery, despite all the other brave people that had fought alongside him, made him feel quite sick.

Although he still worked in class, he often found himself receding from the rest of the students, finding places to hide away from the world.

He wasn’t the only one.

Draco Malfoy was not well liked among those left at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most of the Slytherins hadn’t bothered to come back, but with the trials his family was facing for their part in the war, Draco figured the grounds of Hogwarts, though rather hostile, would provide a far more comfortable environment than what the manor would most likely provide.

That being said, the grounds were still hostile.

I mean, you don’t just walk over to Voldemort’s army and expect a warm reunion from the people you’d been fighting against.

He was a coward.

That’s what each day reminded him.

So Draco often found himself curled up in the foliage near the Black Lake, eyes gazing over the hazy water. The leaves would rustle with the breeze, the gentle noise blocking out his thoughts in a way the loud chatter of the Great Hall never could. With nothing but the natural world providing him company, Draco could almost forget the feelings of self-loathing and shame that whirled through his mind like the Tasmanian Devil, wrecking every good thing in its path.

At first, he was just curling up beside the lake, out in the crisp foliage near the murky depths during the day, but as the weeks progressed, he found himself beside the lake more and more often.

Under the twinkle of starlight, the pads of his fingers would rub against the rough stone slabs he settled on, eyes tracing the scene before him. He liked it that way, settled out there with the dark and deep woods pressing against his back. Night made Draco feel better; he was by himself on that rock because the world was sleeping, not because he was, in fact, alone. For those fleeting hours of darkness, he would feel once again like he wasn’t completely and totally alone in the world, isolated from all others due to his actions.

Everyone was avoiding him.

For good reason, of course.

He was a coward, after all.

He always would be.

The dark mark, now reduced to a complex, aggravated scar across his pale flesh, would always brand him as a coward.

And, truthfully, it hurt.

It hurt to know that there would never be a place for him in this world, that he would have to settle for being worthless in the eyes of the wizarding community.

At one time, his name had equalled power. He was the heir to the Malfoy estates, afterall, but now his name only set him apart from the world.

He no longer belonged.

For even in life after the war, he would always be a Death Eater, regardless of whether he chose to be one or not.

So when Harry Potter stumbled onto his little paradise rock one night, Draco expected to taste death, a flavor he imagined to be remarkably sweeter than the vile taste of guilt that constantly bubbled at the back of his throat now, to come swiftly. That was what Potter wanted, wasn’t it? Vengeance? Draco let them into the castle. Draco allowed Dumbledore to be killed. Draco allowed so many people to be killed. He was a murderer. And Potter wanted him to pay for it. Right?

Briefly, he closed his eyes, shuddering slightly at the autumnal chill in the air. He waited, expecting a curse, probably a painful one at that, to slip from Potter’s chapped lips.

But the words never came.

Instead, the dark haired boy moved beside Draco, body resting against the hard ground as he allowed his eyes to trace over the water.

The two sat in silence, Harry examining the landscape while Draco eyed him suspiciously, attempting to keep the look of horror out of his usually hollow eyes. Numbness from the insults of his peers had been his only savior these last few weeks.

The blonde couldn’t figure out which was worse: the fact that he was sitting beside Harry Potter or the fact that Harry Potter made no means to insult or kill Draco for his past actions. The quiet was haunting.

After a few minutes of silence, Draco spoke. His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper as he attempted to choke out the words that had been clawing up his throat since Potter arrived. “Are you not going to hex me?”

For the first time that night, Harry’s eyes, as vibrant as the greenery shrouding their stooped figures from the castle, settled on Draco’s own, surprise clearly evident in his features. “No, Malfoy, I’m not.”

Draco cast him an uncertain gaze, as skittish as an abused puppy. “Then what are you doing here?” Although he’d intended for the phrase sound a tad more biting, the words were soft, unsteady against the night air.

“I saw you coming out here all the time. I wanted to see how you were handling everything. Figured maybe your way could help me.”

With a scoff, only mildly halfhearted, Draco’s eyes fell back over the lake, gaze wandering across the treeline. “I thought you hated me, Potter.”

Harry hummed, eyes following Draco’s across the lake. “The war’s over. Let’s put that behind us now.”

Silence lapsed between them as they each settled into their own minds, slowly growing more comfortable having a warm figure by their sides. As the leaves rustled and the water gently rippled from the creatures below, Draco realized that maybe things weren’t quite so bad with Harry being here, too. But why was he here?

“What could you possibly need help with?” he muttered softly. “You’re a hero.”

“Oh sod off,” the boy replied, eyes still sweeping the scene before him.

The rest of that night they spent in silence, watching the world break into amber beams of warmth as the sun rose on the horizon. Only then did they leave. Slowly, diligently, they made their way back to the castle to spend another day day in agony. While Draco was isolated for his mistakes, Harry was isolated for his accomplishments.

Yet neither knew quite how much the other one suffered.

Draco expected that night to be a singular instance in their lives where the two appeared beside one another without a vengeful rivalry flourishing. However, it was not.

Throughout the rest of that week, Harry would arrive at Draco’s spot after hours and sit with him. Sometimes he’d bring a snack or a spare cloak to keep both of them warm, other times he’d come as he was; regardless, silence permeated the air around them. The companionship was nice, comforting, in a way, and neither wanted to ruin it with idle chatter.

But that didn’t stop the thoughts that would whirl through Draco’s mind each time Harry settled beside him on the cool stones. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand why, after everything, Harry would choose to come sit beside him each night. Draco was nearly the embodiment of everything Harry hated. He couldn’t fathom why the raven haired boy would choose to acknowledge his existence, let alone remain in his company, each night.

Because Draco couldn’t see that Harry was struggling, too.

But Harry could see past Draco’s brave facade.

And Draco knew it.

So when Draco sat at the edge of the water that evening, wishing ardently for the inky blackness of night to swallow him whole, he didn’t bother to hide his ragged breaths or the tears trickling down his angled cheeks when Potter approached.

Because Harry already knew.

His father has been sent to Azkaban, mother leaving for France in an attempt to avoid shame from those left in the wizarding community. Eventually she would come back, she assured, but in the meantime, he was on his own. Indefinitely.

And then in potions one of the students was harassing Draco, who now sat at the very back corner of the room. He would perform his work diligently, but would seldom speak, unlike the intelligent, quick witted Draco he’d been before the war. Usually, he worked alone, avoiding all others like the plague, and, typically, that worked. However, when the potion got a tad messy, requiring all the students to push up the sleeves of their robes, Draco had refused, and, softly, politely, asked the sweet Hufflepuff that sat a table over from him if she would be kind enough to help with the messy part. Of course, she was kind enough, despite all that Draco had done that could’ve very easily allowed her to refuse his request.

Yet not everyone was quite so kind.

As she stepped forward to help, some boys in the row in front of him began to make an ordeal of it. Some of them taunted him, mocked him for his mark or insulted the sweet girl for opting to help Draco, others called forth the professor, who swept before him with a dark glare, warning him he either must do his own work or forfeit the assignment.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy swept his bag up off the floor and marched out of class with the full intention of failing the assignment.

Because anything was better than having to stare his scar in the face.

Anything was better than acknowledging who he was, who he had been during the war.

Harry was surprised that night to see the blonde sat upon the ground in khaki pants, an emerald sweater pulled delicately over hands, but he wasn’t surprised to see the tears washing down Draco’s face. He knew the news. He saw the way people treated Draco in the halls. He saw Draco in a way the boy would probably never fully understand.

The last thing Draco expected to happen that night was for Harry to hunker beside him like he usually did, draping a large, warm cloak over Draco’s legs and delicately placing a chocolate bar in the Slytherin’s lap. Harry leaned toward him a little, their shoulders brushing and sharing warmth as Harry let Draco cry every tear he could possibly shed.

When his breathing finally returned to normal, Draco finally croaked out the first of many thoughts that had been bubbling in his mind from the moment Harry Potter first joined him in his secret space. “What could you possibly need help learning from me?”

His tired eyes fell upon Draco’s watery ones, and his face softened at the image before him. A few moments of silence lapsed between the pair as the dark haired boy gazed upon his companion. He stayed quiet, watching Draco’s pale face contort in frustration and confusion while Harry just stared at him with those solemn eyes.

When he didn’t respond, Draco continued, a bitter, pained tone straining his voice as he wiped the tears from his face with his sweater sleeve. “I mean, you’re the bloody sodding hero after all. Everything’s gone right for you. What could you possibly need from a person like-” his voice cracked, “a person like me?”

With a sigh, Harry scanned his face once more before he spoke. “Draco, why do you come out here? Sit out here day and night?”

The boy paused, clearly not anticipating having a question thrown back in his face, let alone his once arch nemesis using his first name so casually after years of rivalry. “You know why,” he grumbled, shooting Potter a half hearted glare, a feeling of vulnerability bubbling up his throat.

“Tell me anyway.”

“I’m alone,” Draco muttered, gaze once again drifting out over the landscape he’d spent countless hours studying. “I was a Death Eater. I stood for everything that was wrong and now everyone hates me for it. I’ve lost everything I had in life, and it’s not that easy to deal with.” He sniffled again, eyes darting back to Harry’s face cautiously.

“And I did something that sets me apart from everyone else,” Harry murmured back, eyes trained on Draco’s thin features as he continued. “I’m alone-” Draco scoffed, earning a stern glance from his companion. “I’m set apart from everyone else in this school because I did something different. Everyone is pressuring me to be some ‘golden boy’ that I’m certainly not. I just did something different, and now everyone wants something from me.”

“But you’re a hero. I’m a coward. We’re nothing alike.” It came out as more of a whispered statement than something emotional, but Harry could still hear the pain hidden behind Draco’s tone as he uttered the word ‘coward.’ He hadn’t forgiven himself; something told Harry that Draco probably never would.

His bangs fanned out across the top edge of his glasses as he shook his head at the broken blonde before him. “I’m as much a hero and as much a coward as you are.”

“How do you figure?” the boy replied with an indignant glance.

With a sigh, Harry turned toward him once again. “My destiny was to die. I had to die so everyone else could live. Had it been my destiny to kill others so that everyone could live, I don’t think you and I would be sitting here today with the war over.” Draco’s glance was confused, quizzical as he eyed the boy who for so long he’d considered a hero of the wizarding world. “You went against what you wanted, hurt people, to protect those you love most. While you may see that as cowardly, that you went along with Voldemort’s plan, became a Death Eater, I don’t. You were doing it to protect your mother. You went against everything you wanted to do just to keep her safe. I think that’s pretty brave of you, myself. And me? I died instead of sacrificing others, killed myself so that my friends could live. But if my fate had been to kill them? Kill anyone other than myself? Defy my beliefs? I don’t know that I could have been brave enough to go through with it.”

Draco’s eyes were glassy and wide, gaping at Harry as if he’d just discovered an entirely new person. “You think I’m brave?” he whispered, tears already dripping down his pale cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Harry whispered back, pulling the cloak a little higher up on their figures.

The bugs were chirping through the forest, leaves delicately crinkling behind them as the light breeze fluttered through their thin clothes. Slowly, Draco rose to his feet, offering a chilly hand to Harry. “Let’s go back. We can find something warm to eat in the kitchen.”

Gathering the cloak, Harry took Draco’s hand in his own. Together they walked back to the castle, cold hands clasped together loosely. It was an odd sensation, they both pondered, but one they could certainly get used to.

It would be nice to be a little less alone.

After all, everyone was coping in their own way.

A/N: I thought I’d try something a little different, so let me know what you all think. I’ve been reading a bit of Drarry recently and I thought I’d take a whack at it. Not really sure how pleased I am with it; there are parts I love and parts I’m not quite sure of, so shoot me a message/ask/comment and let me know what you think! I hope you all are having a great day!

#draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry #draco malfoy x harry potter #harry potter x draco malfoy #fanfic

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soul-heart-and-beyond · 5 years

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Negaduck Headcanons! (Pt.1)

This is probably the most ambitious that I will get with exploring a character like this. Not only because I really like Negaduck (More than I talk about him. I generally do this with a lot of characters because you guys got your thing, and I don’t want to damage that character for you because of my portrayal or showing you all with my love for them. Yeah, I hold my feelings back, but I have good reason for that.), but because with all of the weird fluidity his story and character has backing it up.

This isn’t going to be like the definitive version of him, I’m not sure if there will ever be one, but this is just how I see him and want to explore some of the less thought about concepts with him. There’s been stuff about him doing things because of NegaGosalyn or NegaMorgana, but this one’s going to be different. Consider this just a rework to make him more... realistic? (Sounds like a terrible idea since he doesn’t seem to work well with that, but just give me a moment.) At this point, I just want to share or project some things that could work once given good thought and consistency to his background.

I might have to split this into parts like the others since this one’s gonna be preeety long.

The best place to start off is with the concept of the Negaverse in general, which is supposedly everything nearly turned upside down compared to the common universe (I guess Primeverse but it’s hard to say honestly?) we see, the Disney Afternoon universe. Given that, heroes are villains, villains are heroes, ordinary people are grunts or the street trash would actually be good people, or dead, that too. It’s a place where evil or bad prevails over good, and while the good does stay strong, so does the evil that maintains the universe. Maybe it’s a boring concept, but to me at least (Though that doesn’t instantly make it good because I like it.), it allows for more interesting debates on morality, what doing the right thing is, and how should consequences work. It’s a glimpse into a world dominated by bad and the good thing there is to be bad, do bad, instead of being good and to do good like it is over in the regular DA (Disney Afternoon) universe. I wanted to touch upon this with Nega Fenton and eventually other counterparts of the muses I have, but since this whole guy is that concept personified, might as well do it with the one that started the whole mess.

Granted, Negaduck’s first appearance in the show is Just Us Justice Ducks, it kind of just skimmed over who he was an just got to the point of him being a villain, something that can really confuse others as most villains usually have an origin story to them or are already pre-established in the world before the hero does. It does give some mystery as to who he was, but since his origin of becoming Negaduck, of even finding the cake that had a dimensional rift inside of it and allowing for him to traverse from dimension to dimension. However, since there never was an episode to explore that and the comics were close to getting to his origin, it seems like he does have some potential to explore several avenues depending on circumstances.

It could be like a situation where he lost NegaGosalyn (And while that seems more likely for Darkwarrior Duck to happen and we see she’s alive in Life, The Negaverse, and Everything, you can chalk it up to this being the mallard that was in the Negaverse, not the common verse, he could turn this way, so that’s an option.), or where he loses NegaMorgana like it was going to be seen before the comic got cut (Similar circumstance to NegaGosalyn, but it also wouldn’t feel right given that he doesn’t seem to have an attachment to common universe’s Morgana, while Darkwing felt empathy to NegaGosalyn. Sure, you can say that when Negaduck was trying to get Gosalyn to be his little partner during the latest comic run of Darkwing Duck, the Jailbreak one [Orange is the New Purple?], but that could have been some remnant of Paddywhack, you know, that interdimensional demon that did show interest in her in the show?)

Anyway, it just doesn’t seem likely for him to lash out at everyone when NegaMorgana dies or disappears, and the same for Gosalyn since in the show he knows she’s alive, and just doesn’t seem to bother with her much anymore. She’s like a gem that’s lost it’s luster, a used up toy, something that he barely comes back to anymore. And if it’s because he lost her due to a custody battle, it wouldn’t make sense since the Friendly Four explain it upfront that he is Gosalyn’s carefaker, her parental figure, her father. Not only that, but he had to have been doing this this for a while since Darkwing Duck was Darkwing for some time before he met Gosalyn. Of course, he was a minor vigilante, but after meeting Gosalyn, Launchpad, Taurus Bulba and his henchmen, he did get more recognition from there on. Given the idea of somewhat polar opposite universes, it would mean that Negaduck was Negaduck before meeting NegaLaunchpad and NegaGosalyn and ultimately his first encounter with NegaTaurus Bulba.

Another point to address is Negaduck’s real name. You can think of his name as just Negaduck or Jim Starling, Jim Sterling, but for me and this rp blog, the OG Negaduck is Drake Mallard. For everyone else in the Negaverse to go by the same name and respond to that name like their common universe counterpart, and for Negaduck to be the exception? Doesn’t really make sense, and given how he is an evil Darkwing Duck, it only makes sense for him to be Drake Mallard. There have been other series and franchises to do this sort of thing where the character would actually be different like Owlman to Batman from DC Comics. Owlman from Earth 3 isn’t Bruce Wayne, and some characters like Superwoman of Earth 3 is actually Lois Lane. It works there but that’s because it fits that franchise. To fit Disney’s, Negaduck would most likely be Drake Mallard.

Given that, it is safe to say that his life obviously is not like Darkwing Duck Drake’s as his whole universe is built around the concept of being bad is actually good. So his experiences with his childhood of him being bullied, clowned on, getting wrecked in high school for the first half of it were out of him just being overall bad at being bad. He did some nice things here and there, got punished or bullied for it, and still somewhat had want to do it again. Though over time, and especially around his junior year of high school, the general consensus or the norm of being bad finally clicked. He’d done it before several times, yes. It was what he was being taught at school, besides other useful things that would be needed later on in life. Pretty much, he snapped after being ridiculed for his soft personality, and out of defiance, was willing to kill everyone there. He didn’t get to take out everyone, but he did for the first time fully embrace how good it was to be terrible, to kill, the satisfaction of getting what he wanted or most of it. That day, he was forever changed, and ready to create some mass carnage and despair for his own personal enjoyment.

Knowing that his little prototype outfit for the event where he was ridiculed from wasn’t exactly going to make him look menacing, he sketched up some drafts as to what he would really want for himself to be seen as. Some had overly large fedoras, others had torn clothing, and some had on so much black, belts, and zippers that it just seemed too silly. Eventually, he would come out with his well known attire, and also acquired some orange-scarlet contact lenses to complete his change from Drake Mallard, the one cerulean-eyed wimp that couldn’t do much and was seen as a nobody by society. Instead, he was going to be remembered, he was going to feared, and he was going to be the one thing people worry about most. After all, being remembered was the only thing of value in life, and those that were remembered were the nasty, vile, ruthless, terrible, and just plain malevolent people. They were great because they brought forth a force of fear and anxiety with them, and he was going to be the next one.

After that, Negaduck would out in the streets of St. Canard, terrorizing the people, stealing money and valuables away from banks, stores, and factories, all of the while trying not to get on the radar of some of the superheroes that would clearly want to stop a low level villain like him. After all, he had no powers, was considered barely above a common grunt, but that was to give them a false sense of security. Whenever he wasn’t constantly planning his heists, having “fun” with the civilians, or just doing evil, despicable stuff just for the fun of it, the thrill it gave him, he was furthering him study of different martial arts, techniques, and overall strategies. Sure, the opponents he managed to rack in against their own free will weren’t nothing much but living body bags for him to test out his moves on and not much else, but whatever he could memorize, the real test would come when he was out in the field. With that, he gained some more firepower and artillery so he could slowly increase his status to the well known criminal overworld.

It wasn’t too long that his face became somewhat well know around St. Canard, and by this point, he was bathing in that recognition, that glory, of being noticed as a menace to society. Of course, he’d have to scram whenever some of the hero chumps like Megawatt (Mega Megavolt) and Harlequin ( Nega Quackerjack), but he was doing better, getting better at being such a blight on the planet. Though his feats before meeting a certain girl and guy on a fated day were small, they were elevated to new heights afterwards. On another casual routine of giving the police a hard time, he saw some goons trying to take some sweet looking young duckling. She just looked so perfect in the sense of the ways on how he could ruin her day, make her cry, the works, and with that in mind, he went and fetched her from those men, but not before dusting off his knuckles on them. Yet he could feel something unusual about this girl as she seemed to appreciate him “saving” her from the strangers. Whatever they planned to do with her wasn’t going ot be nearly as bad as what he had, but she seemed to be somewhat thrilled at how cool and badass he was taking those guys out. It was... kind of charming to see someone actually compliment him out of genuine interest instead of fear.

While driving the young girl back to his home on his customized motorcycle, he wondered if he should indulge himself by keeping this little one around, to show them the ropes, and eventually see them become about as bad as he was? No one was going to be worse than him, but he was fine with them being second place onward. He was only worthy of number one. But as he continued to think about it, it started to seem like he was getting soft. Some of those small traces of Drake Mallard were trying to crawl their way out of what he was, and he couldn’t let that happen. He was no longer that person and definitely didn’t want to be associated with that name. It was by now the girl had asked him his name, and he responded with only, “Negaduck.”. After all, she didn’t need to know much else about him, and certainly nothing of his past life. Once arriving at his home, he let her off of his vehicle and they entered the house and took a break from all of the action that waited outside. Negaduck then decided to ask this girl for her name in return, and learning that it was Gosalyn, he kept that in mind so he could call her by that name.

For a while they talked about different subjects, like what the other was going to do, and for Negaduck his case was simple, just continue destroying and tearing stuff up, while Gosalyn, she seemed to not really have a set goal in life or after their meeting. This came as a good opportunity for him to propose making her his protege so she could actually get on by in the world, though she’d probably have to ditch the cutesy looking garments she had on. He was astounded to see how quickly she accepted, though it seemed to have been influenced by her not having any parents or adult figures to take care of her. It did tick him off with the potential idea that she might be just putting up with what she could get at the moment, but given how her innocence seemed, it could be that she was just relieved to have someone to take care of her. He’d file in some adoption papers in the morning, but he’d have to know what orphanage she was from. With some more talk to continue on that note, he got the answer he was looking for, and a little more, some information about someone trying to take her, but for what reason? She thought the guys that he knocked out earlier had something to do with this person, and it seemed like a time slot just opened up on his schedule to go ruin this person’s day, or perhaps their life.

Now that he had some time to relax and get a better understanding of what happened to Gosalyn, Negaduck took her along with him since she would know who he was talking about. Zooming through the streets and past the other vehicles that were in the way, the villain was still assessing himself. Why was he doing all of this besides pleasure? It’s not like the guy Gosalyn knew was going to get him any more famous, but he was wrong, as there were some of the same guys he let live and more on motorcycles with guns, ready to fire and probably willing to kill too. Now this was some action he’d been waiting for, the cops wouldn’t give him this type of attention. Drifting a bit and holding his fedora with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t blow off of his head, Drake grinned out of excitement as he continued to drive, but now he could get some better information out of these goons. Pulling off some close quarters saves and near fatal stunts, the two were able to make it out of the chase with one or two fellas still in pursuit. That was good. It meant his competition would be rough.

(End of Part 1!)

#(I think I've been working on these paragraphs for a few hours now so it's about time I resume with rps.)#(To be honest these for Negaduck are going to be like explanations for how he came to be and what got him to the common or Primeverse.)#(And like some of the other casual stuff will come later. Really I kind of wanted to make his tale one based on the effects of society.)#(And how it can affect certain individuals as it seems that would be how the Negaverse works.)#(Some of this might seem familiar and it is but other stuff probably isn't. Overall I feel like I'm going to have a blast with him.)#(Once I fully finish all of this to explain my version of him. Yeah; he's fun and pretty cool as a bad guy; but he also needs a reason.)#(At least for me. I like some villains and love them sometimes if they have no backstory but a great one always has one.)#(Unless they are a god or something and then that's fine but Negaduck isn't one so....)#(Also warning you all right now; this thing is beyond ten paragraphs and some are big ones.)#Out Of Soul (ooc)#There's a Reason why Positives and Negatives Don't Mix... (Negaduck)#Guard Impact! (Headcanons)

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lyendith · 5 years

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Ciconia no Naku Koro ni Phase 1 : To You, The Replaceable Ones

I had planned to write this… review? analysis? of Ciconia Phase 1 right after finishing the game about two weeks after its release, but since then I've had trouble organizing my thoughts. The reason is that this first installment alone tackles a lot of themes: war, nationalism, technoscientism, media consumption and manipulation, the blurring limits between physical and virtual reality, education systems, generational gaps induced by technology, artificial procreation, old people robbing the youth of their dreams, the meaning of family and interpersonal bonds, and even transidentity (albeit briefly). And it is quite remarkable that almost all of those themes are represented by one object: the Gauntlet and the idea of “parallel processing” associated with it.

It's gonna be a long and messy review, I'll probably forget to mention some aspects of the story or overlook others, and I won't talk about every single character, but I'll try to cover the essential parts. Not easy considering how densely-packed the story is, but let's go!

So to start, I should probably focus on this VN's protagonist, Mitake Miyao. On a surface level, he's a bit of what you'd call a “tsundere”: harsh, a little irritable and sarcastic with his pals, but always well-meaning and easy to befriend in the end. One of the running threads of the story so far is that he's too well-meaning in fact, idealistic to a fault, which contributes to his odd charisma but also makes the increasing realization of his powerlessness all the more depressing. You don't want to see this guy fail, but because of the way the story is framed, you know he inevitably will.

For a while, the narration and dialogue like to repeat that “youngsters are each generation's main characters”, but that's a sentiment I couldn't quite share − in our real world, youngsters may be the ones will all the dreams, but they sure as hell aren't the ones making the decisions. The climate change crisis, for example, wouldn't be left unaddressed if that was the case. And sure enough, Ciconia isn't so naïve as to ignore that reality. Every single step of the way, Miyao thinks he can use his power to overturn the situation. Every single step of the way, he's reminded that in the end he's just a pawn moving however his higher-ups or other nebulous forces wish him to. That's a really powerful and relatable theme in this day and age, which raises the question of how far you can oppose a system you're an essential part of.

One thing that makes Miyao special, at least compared to his pals from the AOU, is that he's “ciconia-born” − born from natural procreation. Which means that unlike Jayden or Gunhild, he has bilogical family bonds but also hasn't been subjected to a genetic selection that would predetermine his path in life. At least supposedly, but we gradually learn that that may not quite be the case. In fact, that biological link to Toujirou ends up acting as a tether that robs Miyao of even more control on his own life than he thought, leading to the final tragedy of this first Phase.

There also lies this story's commentary on technology and man's increasing dependence on it − technology makes the kids' life easier, but it's also their undoing. One technology prevented an apocalypse that another caused, and the loss of the former brings about a new apocalypse. Humans created the 8MS but only a handful of scientists have a full understanding of how it works, just like today's technology are only fully understood by a small elite of technicians. We are increasingly dependent on tools whose principles are increasingly out of our grasp. Again, the Gauntlet is another reflection of that.

But back to Miyao and the Gauntlet Knights. In retrospect, it is clear that the way both the characters and readers learn about most dramatic developments through disincarnated news reports (with a goofy “news flash” alert by the frog AI Keropoyo to make it worse) is meant to build up that feeling of powerlessness, and also of disconnect. We should be alarmed that war is approaching, that terrible things are happening… but it all feels distant. After all, do you cry or tremble in fear when you learn that an eathquake killed a thousand people on the other side of the globe? No, you'll think “it's terrible” for a minute and then move on, because what can you do about it? Reading the second half of Ciconia felt a lot like that. And while that's part of the message, it is also to the detriment of the reading experience a lot of the time.

For a while (around the 60-to-80% portion of the game, roughly) we get a lot of redundant dialogue about commenting the news and Miyao rambling on about how they're all COMRADES MAINTAINING THE WALLS OF PEACE, again and again and again, to the point it becomes annoying. That's my only real gripe with the game − the feeling that, at times, Ryukishi forgot he was writing a story and went into political or philosophical essays about its themes instead. Maybe a manga or anime adaptation could help make these parts more… show-don't-telly. But as it is, it could have used some serious trimming down. That's hardly something entirely new − who can forget Krauss' tangent about 1986 Japan's economic situation or Beatrice's explanation of Hempel's crow? But in Ciconia the narration doesn't seem to come from any specific point of view except that of the author (and even on that front, the opening disclaimer warns us that the views expressed don't necessarily reflect the author's opinions), so those parts become all the more conspicuous. Unless this all turns out to be part of a Witch's game, which wouldn't be surprising.

Where Ciconia shines however, is at weaving a web of connections between the characters, one by one, to make you care about some and suspicious of others, sometimes both, and deliberately confuse you about who really controls whom. First we have the kids, with Warcat and Grave Mole which instantly grew on me (the slice-of-life TIPS focused on them had some of my favorite scenes actually), then the other kette with their own quirky charms… then the “villains”, with Toujirou and Seshat, then the Three Kings and Jestress who has a delightful dynamic with Toujirou, and then Toujirou is revealed to be Miyao's father, etc... It's a testament to how well all of those characters are established that I could remember almost all of them very quickly despite their massive number. Save for the Cairo Squad maybe. They're just kinda there. The (mostly) gorgeous character designs certainly help, even if Ryukishi still has a somewhat loose grasp of body proportions and of the… number of fingers on human hands. There's some improvement even in that department though.

While Miyao is for the most part the center of the cast, at least on the kids' side, that doesn't mean the others aren't interesting in their own right. Jayden is your classic “best buddy dudebro” whose easygoingness lets him bounce off Miyao's more strait-laced personality in a fun way, but his relationship with Meow, Miyao's “little sister” who shares the same body, allows him to show more sensitivity and shyness he would otherwise have. Speaking of Meow, she brings about another interesting element of worldbuilding − the existence of “Congenital Parallel Processors”, or CPPs, i.e. people born with multiple personalities, who are not considered mentally ill but a full-fledged minority with its own issues and “coming outs”. Although that aspect isn't developped much (Meow herself kind of disappears from the radar in the second half), we do get other examples of how it can manifest, notably with the character of Naima, whose unnamed alter-ego is violently protective of her, or Rukshana who's prone to abrupt personality changes when she laughs. The way Jayden kinda walks on eggs but genuinely tris to to treat Meow as her as her own person while respecting her and Miyao's privacy is frankly adorable, and I almost wish we got more of that at least in the TIPs!

The kette I found the most interesting, though, was Grave Mole, composed of Chloe, Lilja and Koshka. While a lot of characters have issues, all three of these girls are complete mental wrecks to some degree. Koshka spends her time between grumpily taking part in Kizuna chat rooms and horrific body experiments (usually simultaneously) when she's not training, Lilja has to take drugs to pretend like she's a happy, cute and mischievous cat-girl for the sake of making Koshka a more-or-less functional human being, and Chloe has to constantly deal with unfair punishments and a constantly battered self-esteem. As comedic as Okonogi's angry rants and karate-chops are played (and as much as I like this version of Okonogi, strangely enough), that scene where she gleefully lets Lilja be killed in battle makes it clear that her mental state is just as unstable as the other two's.

On the antagonists' side, things are a lot more blurry: a lot of them utter the arc phrase “All is in the name of guiding humanity down the right path.” However, what the right path is seems to vary depending on who says it. That's where a lot of the mystery lies − be it with Jestress, Seshat or Toushirou, their goals seem contradictory, and Tak… I mean Vier Dreissig doesn't even seem to have a goal beyond SCIENCE. But a big part of Phase 1's hook is that constant uncertainty as to who is playing whom and for what purpose. Even the Three Kings, who seem like your bog standard Illuminati knock-offs, might not be as much in control as they seem − hell, one of the big catastrophes (the fatal damage to the atmospheric 8MS) happens completely outside of their control, in an almost comically sudden way.

Speaking of comical… let's get to what I found personally fascinating but what other readers might have gripes with: the brutal tonal shifts and dissonances throughout the story. A cheery scene to announce the big success of a plan for the Order of the Public Bath? Keropoyo pops up to gleefully announce… an avalanche of terrible news that make the success from a minute ago meaningless. A big conference for peace where World War IV will most certainly be stopped? All of its participant die in an “accidental” explosion. Not to mention characters that are walking balls of tone dissonance like Chloe (who has many comical scenes but is clearly broken beyond repair) or the Yeladot Shavit girls (who by the end are forced to spew out fanatical bullshit with the same sparkly smile they sport when gushing about yuri ships).

This is of course embodied by the incredible climax where all the Gauntlet Knights celebrate their comraderie together in a virtual room… while their real selves are busy killing each other lest they're court-martialed for treason. The moment where all of Miyao's ideals are brutally trashed and scattered in a battle we don't even know the purpose of. The moment where the kids' taent for “parallel processing” becomes their sole mean of escaping the horror of their situation. The moment where all the absurdity, all the unfairness explodes in a depressing flourish. The moment also where the thematic resonance with Umineko becomes fully apparent − how can we not be reminded of Sayo and Maria escaping their shitty lives through their magic? Though of course Rose Guns Days also constantly came to mind, with the focus on war and nationalism, Japan being divided between a union led by the US and one led by China, and two of Miyao's closest friends being the American Jayden and the Chinese Lingji; as well as Miyao being an idealistic and charismatic leader-by-circumstance whose dreams crash into a wall much like Rose's in RGD.

So…

All in all, Ciconia might not entirely be what I expected from a When They Cry game, but it is certainly what I expect from a 07th Expansion game: a thought-provoking experience. Again, I finished my reading shocked and confused. Although it might seem like it shows its cards more explicitly than the openers of Higurashi and Umineko, deception still plays a big part in the story, even if the interaction with the reader is less direct.

Now there might be no murder mystery for the reader to solve, but that won't stop me from speculating! The invisible turning point to me is the “Proof of a Program” chapter, where Blue Miyao tells Miyao that he'll show him someone's face, and that that will activate Miyao's murder program instantly. Miyao first laughs it off, but then the scene brutally cuts to something that might be a flashback, a flash-forward or a nightmare, maybe all of that at once… The most graphically horrifying scene of the entire game, to the point it's almost at odds with the rest. And then… it's never mentioned again. Not even when Miyao meets again with Blue Miyao. Like it never happened. My theory is that everything Miyao experiences from that point onward is some kind of simulation, and that's where the obligatory When They Cry time loop will come from this time. See you in May for the answer?

That is all for today, folks!

#Ciconia no naku koro ni #Review #Back to Trianthology soon!

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slytherinknowitall · 5 years

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Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 10: Oh, How Intimate First Names Can Be!

(Click here for chapter 9!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Severus cut her off before she could even get a single word out.

“Miss Granger, today, you will be preparing a rather easy potion which you have already learnt about during your early years at this school: the Cure for Boils. As I will be instructing the first-years in how to brew this particular potion tomorrow morning, I thought that it would be wise to have some ready-made phials of it on hand. After all, we both know how foolish and dim-witted some students can be.” He was, of course, referring to how Neville Longbottom once had made a cauldron melt while unsuccessfully trying his luck at this very concoction.

“Now, when you first learnt how to brew the Cure for Boils, you used a formula from Magical Drafts and Potions. This time around, however, you will be working according to the instructions found in the Book of Potions as that version does not consume as much time. As you can see, I have written the directions on the blackboard. You may take the required ingredients from the storage room and get started.”

As Miss Granger obediently and – by the grace of the gods – for once wordlessly got down to work, the Potions Master sat down behind his desk. He pulled up some essays to correct; however, he couldn’t concentrate on them no matter how hard he tried. He stared at the letters and words written in smudged ink for what felt like hours, but his mind couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences out of them. It appeared as though this was becoming some sort of pattern for him; he hadn’t been able to be productive for weeks. Whenever he would try to do some research or even just to read a book, his head would start to fill with images of a certain insufferable know-it-all.

Severus was hopelessly distraught. He was beyond disgusted with himself for acting like a teenage boy going through puberty all over again. It didn’t matter whether he was eating in the Great Hall, teaching in his classroom or walking through the castle’s ever-busy corridors – whenever there was a quiet moment, he couldn’t help his thoughts wandering to his apprentice. To combat this, he was trying to keep himself as busy as possible and had even began to lash out at the student body more than he usually already did. But his desperate attempts proved to be fruitless; once he would lie in bed at night, the darkness engulfing him, he couldn’t put a stop to his imagination anymore.

His mind would be plagued by mental pictures of the Gryffindor Princess, some real and some nothing but chimerical. Miss Granger in his private laboratory, bend over a cauldron, small beads of sweat running down her slender neck into her cleavage. Miss Granger in his sitting room, spread across the fluffy carpet in front of the fireplace, reading one of his beloved books while only scantily clad. Miss Granger straddling him on his bed, a cheeky smile on her face as she moves in to kiss him with those luscious lips of hers.

Worst of all, he couldn’t help his body’s reaction to these forbidden thoughts either, and that made him feel like a complete sicko.

Severus knew that he was doomed. Why oh why did this have to happen to him out of all people?! The Head of Slytherin – a former Death Eater and more often than not referred to as the greasy git of the dungeons – lusting after Gryffindor’s on-site smartass who was half his age; could it really get any worse? Had he honestly gotten so desperate for female touch that he had to resort to fantasising about a girl still wearing her school uniform?

He had only been in love once in his life and that had ended in tragedy. Except for some random encounters with witches he didn’t care for, he didn’t really have any experience when it came to the opposite sex. And so even if his silly, little crush weren’t so immorally wrong, it could never work out anyways. The Dungeon Bat wasn’t exactly what one would call a chick magnet. His nose was disproportionately large, his skin was almost sickeningly pallid, and his entire body was battered and scarred from the torture he had had to endure as a follower of the Dark Lord. A smart girl like Hermione Granger could never love an old wreck like him.

NO! Who was even talking about love?! Severus was simply getting turned on by her admittingly rather shapely form, that was all – he was a man, after all. Yes, while he had had many good-looking students walk into his Potions classroom over the years – with some of them even having being stupid enough to try to offer themselves to him in exchange for better grades – none of them had ever caused such a reaction before; but that was probably just due to the fact that the war was finally over now. With him not having to constantly fear for his life anymore, his body was seemingly starting to act “normal” again and that included his libido, too. With not many options available to him cooped up here in the middle of nowhere, it was no surprise that he would eventually stoop as low as to desire someone as annoying, overzealous and pesky as Granger. Mind you, she had indeed grown up to be a beautiful and attractive young woman. Him suddenly not getting irritated anymore by the constant flow of questions leaving her mouth and instead thinking about that very mouth in a perverted way meant absolutely nothing; he was simply horny.

At least that was what Severus was trying to tell himself.

To make matters worse, he had gone completely overboard with that stupid birthday gift. After having been forced to play along with this silly tradition, Snape’s mind had been completely blank on what to get his apprentice. Following a frantic one-hour search of his rooms, he had still not been able to find anything suitable for an 18-year-old girl.

“Well, she is a bookworm …” he’d thought after finally deciding on his volume of Long-forgotten Secrets of the Mayan Wizarding Culture – Potions, Spells and More. Severus had never been a huge fan of this book to begin with; while it was certainly a good read, he had always thought that it was completely overrated and therefore not worth hanging on to. Still, Miss Granger would probably get some enjoyment out of it somehow.

He had only realised his mistake once he had already sent off the owl. Even if he himself didn’t think much of the book, the witch would surely be bewildered as to why her teacher would gift her something so rare and valuable. There was no doubt in his mind that she would start to question his intentions sooner rather than later.

Severus let out a small grunt. He would have to find a way out of this misery. From here on out, he would try to further limit his contact with Miss Granger; continuing to outright ignore her during class and giving her tasks to complete elsewhere instead of holding their apprenticeship lessons. He could also do some research and look for a potion that would help suppress his bodily desires. Worst case scenario, he would simply have to pay a quick late-night visit to the sketchier part of Diagon Alley and find a willing Galleon-seeking witch to take his sexual frustration out on. Perhaps he could also have a talk with Albus and ask him to reassign Miss Granger to –

Suddenly, there was a loud blast coming from the other side of the room. Alarmed, Severus looked up from his papers, but all he could see was a half-destroyed cauldron and a lot of dark blue smoke – there was no sign of his young pupil.

His heart leapt into his throat. “HERMIONE!” he cried out before sprinting to the scene of the accident. With a quick flick of his wooden wand, he at once got rid of the chaos, and it was then that he discovered Miss Granger lying on the cold dungeon floor, covered in a mixture of unfinished teal-coloured potion and what he suspected to be blood. Her head of curls was a fuzzy mess and her face was completely drained of colour.

Severus immediately dropped to his knees and grabbed her by the arms to pull her onto his lap. Thankfully, the brunette was still breathing; however, the blow of the explosion seemed to have knocked her out.

He feverishly thought about what could have caused such a catastrophe; brewing Boil Cure was a simple task after all. With a brief glance at the blackboard, it finally dawned on him: He had forgotten to add a warning to only stir the potion very gently after adding the pickled Shrake spines; otherwise they tended to get “overexcited” and therefore become explosive. The Potions Master had obviously assumed that Miss Granger would have known this already, but it seemed as though even the knowledge of Hogwarts’ most brilliant student wasn’t all-encompassing.

Severus couldn’t help but to silently scold himself for this rookie mistake as he swiftly conjured up a cushioned stretcher on which he then carefully laid down his apprentice. After a quick visual assessment of her injuries, he was sure that the damage wasn’t too bad apart from some cuts and bruises. As a next step, he ripped open her singed and torn blouse, trying hard to ignore her now visible frilly bra. Using some basic cleaning spells, he made quick work of the sticky potion and blood mixture before focusing on the main problem.

“Vulnera Sanentur,” he whispered as he dragged his wand along the wounds on her chest and arms. He had invented this very spell during his own years as a student; and while it had originally been intended to mend severe injuries, it had become his go-to healing spell over time – because naturally, he had always had the most faith in his own creations.

A quick Repairing Charm later, Miss Granger’s tattered clothing was back to its original state. Severus then disappeared into his storage room just to come back out a few minutes later with a crystalline phial in one hand and a small jar of ointment in the other. He placed the latter on a table nearby before yet again kneeling down next to his patient. Supporting her head with his left hand, he poured a few drops of Wideye Potion down her throat; it had come from the very batch they had brewed together not even two weeks earlier. Sitting back on his heels, all he could do then was to wait for her to wake up.

Soon enough, Granger started to stir and eventually let out a muffled groan before opening her brown eyes, seemingly disorientated. It was only when she attempted to sit up that her teacher spoke up.

“You shouldn’t try to get back up quite yet … unless you enjoy feeling lightheaded, of course,” he said with an icy undertone as he stood up and moved back to his desk, sensing her questioning look following his every move. He sat down in his black leather chair and waited for her to speak.

“What happened?” she finally managed to ask, her voice still husky.

“It seems as though I have overestimated your brewing abilities greatly, Miss Granger, as you appear to have disregarded the required safety precautions concerning the use of Shrakes in potions, subsequently blowing yourself up. As a result, you have not only forced me to interrupt my work and come to your aid, but I will now also have to utilize my free time later this evening to prepare the required potion for tomorrow’s class. For this unbelievable foolishness, I shall deduct 15 points from Gryffindor.”

A tiny tear started to slip down her left cheek, but whether it was caused by the pain from her injuries or his cold words the wizard did not know. The incident hadn’t been completely her fault, of course; but Severus didn’t care. He told himself that she should have better than to make such a ludicrous mistake. Now that he knew that she would eventually make a full recovery, worry and shock was replaced with sheer anger – anger over his doom-laded error, anger over how distressed the sight of her unconscious and wounded body had made him, anger over how he was nothing but a slave to his primal needs and anger over how he had frantically called out her name just minutes earlier. He was practically seething.

“I will let you know that I expect better from someone who is not only this school’s Head Girl but also my personal apprentice. I expect a lot better … Now, I suggest you take this jar of dittany,” he commanded sternly, pointing to the small tin sitting on the desk to her right. “As I am sure you know it prevents scarring. Or maybe you don’t. Who could be sure after such a grave mishap?”

Apparently, he’d gone a step too far with his mocking, because the young woman’s crying promptly turned into uncontrollable sobs. Standing up abruptly, still a bit unstable on her legs, she bolted from the room, leaving the ointment as well as all of her other belongings behind. Snape grabbed the pieces of parchment covering his desk and flung them against the dungeon wall in blind rage. Damn Hermione Granger, damn those oversensitive Gryffindors, damn his own emotional turmoil!

Later that night, Severus was lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

“Hermione,” he whispered, letting the name roll off his tongue in a hushed voice.

For some reason, saying her given name out loud seemed a lot more intimate than any of the deviant, shameful fantasies he’d had about little Miss Granger.

(Click here for chapter 11!)

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christophe-delorne · 5 years

Text

Gregstophe Week: Day 4

ANGER // SHOVEL & SWORD // APOCALYPSE AU

TITLE: Synthetic Love

WARNINGS: Swearing, smooching.

AGE: Young Adults. ( Early 20s )

NOTES: This is based in the Fallout Universe. You really don't need to know much about the games to enjoy this story since I try not to go into too much detail. Look. I can go into a lot of detail with Fallout, but I'm trying to keep it easy for everyone to enjoy. This is before Gregory turns into huge douchebag mode. So he's a bit of a softie in this story. Thought I'd change it up from my usual.

It was Gregory's first time to breath contaminated air, his first time seeing the actual sun through the haze of dust and the thin layer of contamination that still lingered on the horizon from a war long past. He spent his entire life safe underground, in the clean environment known as the Institute. He'd come from a line of scientists, dated back before the war, lucky enough to survive the nuclear fallout in the safety of their underground labs. Most weren't so lucky, though he wasn't sure who was luckier, the ones who died instantly, or the ones who managed to live and spend generations out here in the wasteland. He pulled his bandanna up from his neck and over the lower portion of his face, in an attempt to filter out at least the dust and grim.

Typically, the institute would send synths up to the surface to do research or gather data, the androids could withstand the dangerous environments of this desolate land. However, he'd volunteered this time to come topside and to do so was no small matter. It wasn't unheard of for a synth to go rouge, there was all sorts of unpredictable factors up here that could damage or corrupt their programming. Mutant creatures attacking, or even the lingering surviving humans who'd grouped up. In order to quell topsiders' rebellious nature, the Institute would use synths to infiltrate their societies, they looked human, could take the place of anyone seamlessly. And that led to paranoia among the wastelanders.

Gregory wasn't interested in that, not any more, he was interested in finding out why this one synth had stopped responding to his- no its' orders. He had to remind himself constantly that this synth was a human, he wouldn't dare let himself be deceived by his own creation. e'd been the chief of processing synths, designing them to blend in with wastelanders until the Institute noticed that his growing interest in synths had become compromised. He'd made one last synth, his masterpiece, one last big 'fuck you' before he was relocated to the research lab. When the synth went rouge a few months later, he'd been sent out to prove his worth and loyalty to the institute.

His synth had travel far to the edges of the commonwealth, formerly known as the New England states of America. What left of it anyways. Blue eyes stared at the rundown shack before him, surrounded by trees that were ragged looking, nothing like the lush trees within the Institute. Everything looked dreary and rundown. He'd known about it, but to see it with his own eyes was something else. What really drew his gaze was the man churning dirt in what he supposed was some sort of make shift garden, wielding a shovel with ease. One would pass him off as just another farmer trying to make it out here. However, Gregory knew better.

As he made his way closer, the man in the makeshift garden stopped digging, becoming aware of an intruder. Stabbing his shovel into the ground, he turned to look at his new guest. There was a brief expression of surprised recognition before it soured into a scowl, they both knew why he was here. He had to bring C9-25 back to the institute for either to be reprogrammed or destroyed, depending on how cruel the director wanted to be. Gregory could hazard a guess in which choice the man would chose, making this decision harder for Gregory, as it had been intended. Gregory stopped just outside the mangled wire fencing that was more of just a general outline of the garden than really intending to keep anything out.

"The fuck you doin' here?" The voice was harsh, just as Gregory remembered. Callous and rough, a small slight of rebelling against his own superiors.

"You already know the answer to that, Christophe." It was a solemn note, one that hurt to even broach the subject.

"Oh, so its Christophe now." The olive skin toned male wiped the sweat from his forehead, smearing dirt across it. Gregory had to appreciate how human like the synth was. The white tank top sticking to his form from the sweat, artificial sweat but so life like no one would suspect a thing. Gregory had taken care to put his heart and soul in creating him- it. Down to the smallest of scars and the crow's feet in the corner of its eyes. It was no wonder why his co-workers had grown suspicious with his obsession over this one synth.

"You've always been Christophe to me." Gregory countered, pleading almost for some sort of understanding.

"Fuck you and your fuckin' lil' group of prissy bitches who hide away safe and sound underground like cowards." He spat onto the ground as if talking about the Institute left a bad taste in his mouth. Gregory tensed as Christophe approached, heavy boots thudding on the freshly churned, contaminated soil. He was close now, too close. He smelled of sweat and earth, of hard labor, something Gregory had never done. Something he appreciated more than he would let on. All his secret desires and cravings had been placed within this synth. So, did that make him a bad person? Christophe had been designed by him, for him. Morally, it was wrong as Christophe had no personality of his own.

"Christophe, please be reaso-" Gregory was about to try to plead his case when he was suddenly seized by the front of his shirt and dragged forward up onto his toes. Chapped, rough lips crashed against his own before he could even realize what Christophe's intentions were. Panic swelled within him and his heart raced so quickly within his chest, it made his mind far too dizzy to calculate a proper response. However Christophe was all too ready to take advantage of finally finding a way to shut Gregory up, pressing his advantage by tilting his head. Damp warmth traced over the seam of Gregory's smooth lips, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, his body no longer seemed to belong to him as Christophe's tongue suddenly invaded the once safe haven of his mouth. He was being swept up in this sudden fiery passion that he'd never experienced before. Certainly he'd kissed other girls, but nothing so wild and reckless as this, it was burning, branding him in his mind so that he'd never forget. It drove away every arguement, every mindless denial until he was left with nothing but his raw emotions. His tongue finally tried to make a press back, to fight back against Christophe conquering tongue, but this only seemed to drive Christophe further into a frenzy.

The synth, much stronger than the average human tried to drag Gregory impossibly closer, needing to feel their bodies pressed closer, to fulfill that secret desire they both had. A noise left Gregory, muffled by their kiss. The fence was digging into his stomach, broken wires digging past clothing and into soft flesh. Finally, Christophe seemed to grow aware of Gregory's pain and let go, leaving Gregory suddenly feeling vacated, Christophe taking all that passionate heat with him within an instant. Swollen lips remained parted, panting in a futile attempt to catch his breath, to remember something sane and reasonable. He was here for a reason, what was that reason again?

"I'm not goin' back, Gregory." That rough voice sounded deeper, drawing Gregory back away from his own internal musings to focus his attention back on Christophe. The synth he was supposed to be bringing back to the institute. If they knew what just happened, he would certainly be punished, perhaps even cast out into the wasteland. Gregory before had never been tempted by his emotions, raised from birth to join the ranks of the greatest minds alive. He was still human though, susceptible to desires and yearnings for things that he knew he shouldn't give in to. He'd failed in that aspect, but out of his failure he'd created Christophe.

There wasn't any other choice, if Gregory didn't bring Christophe back, the institute would just send correctional synths to forcibly destroy Christophe. If Gregory had found Christophe, so could others. There was no alternative to this situation. The Institute couldn't let their secrets, inside Intel just be out in the open, a unknown problem. Any rouge synth usually was either destroyed, had their minds wiped, or were reprogrammed again. Neither were options Gregory exactly liked. He didn't want to think about his creation being destroyed or Christophe forgetting about him. It was odd to feel so strongly about something that was considered a machine, but it hurt to think about the idea that Christophe would roam the wasteland, not knowing what he yearned for.

"You'll certainly be killed if you do not." Gregory tried his best to steady his voice, it was difficult to control his emotions when Christophe had successfully destroyed any sort of defenses he had built around himself. The Institute was a harsh place who prided itself on rational thinking, where emotions were frowned upon and seen as meant for humans with lesser intelligence. To be ruled by them so easily was viewed as shameful and yet here he was, a complete wreck in the time that he needed to have his guard strong.

"I've been thinkin' about that. Let's head west. As far as we can go, until the Institute can't find us, where no one can find us. " Christophe had a stubborn set to his jaw, his green eyes staring down Gregory as if in challenge, waiting for Gregory's protest, expecting it.

The idea of heading out into a world unknown to Gregory was daunting. He was used to a life of clean water and filtered air. Everything was clean and spotless and the only threat was maybe slipping on a freshly mopped floor. He'd seen and heard about the surface, of the mutant creatures that roamed the lands, about human raiders and giant green super mutated humans wrecking just as much havoc. This world was dangerous and Gregory wasn't certain if he would ever be ready to face it. He knew the further west from here grew into more and more desolate wastelands, of deserts and seas of radiation. No one that the Institute knew about had properly mapped out the States.

"Christophe..." He sighed out, already feeling weary by the sheer notion of leaving the safety of the Institute. "You know as well as I that the probability of my survival out here is low to begin with. Boardroom meetings and scientific debates I can face down with ease, but here?" Gregory gestured at their surroundings, it looked like it was free of what Gregory feared, for now.

"Damn it. Have a little more fuckin' faith in yourself, Gregory. I know you, I know you better than any of those damn assholes underground." Christophe ran his fingers through his hair, his gaze lowering to Gregory's lips, as if kissing him again would solve everything. He was right though. Christophe was apart of him, all the intimate details that Gregory put his heart and soul into. He'd never thought he'd be the type to rebel until Christophe came into being, it was the first mark of Gregory's resistance. The spark of his rebellious nature that had laid dormant this whole time, now that Christophe had returns, that spark was being fanned into a flame.

Far too long had it been suppressed, the Director had known the dangers Christophe possessed to the stable underground society. There was no room for independence and rebellion and he'd tried his best to douse the flames Gregory had created. It had been a mistake to send Gregory out, one the Director was not likely to acknowledge. Failure had never been an option, order was absolute. Just thinking about that ideologist churned within him, Gregory did like cleanliness, but he'd created a synth who liked to be dirty. He desired a contrast to excite him, to draw him in away from the boring white walls to the sweat slicked, sun-kissed skin of the man before him.

"I will go with you to the ends of the earth, Christophe, whatever it takes to stay with you."

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