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difx-writes · 3 years

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Wildest Dreams - In the Death of the Night

Masterlist

After turning 10 and losing her soulmate, Marinette would imagine how Damian Wayne would be.

Would he be tall or short? Did he have blond hair or brown or did he dyed it? Would he be shy or have a bold personality? Perhaps he was an artistic soul, a poet, a writer? Or would he be a baker like her parents? Why did his last name change?

The wonders and questions took over her mind for days with no end.

On good days, she imagined how he would interact with her friends, how her parents would take him in as their own son, how he would fit into her life.

She liked to talk to him, pretending there, alive, with her. She asked his opinion on what to wear, how she should do her hair, what colors with go well with the design. He was her voice of reason. Talking to "Damian" brought a smile to her face, even when she knew she was deluding herself.

On bad days, she pretended he was right there with her, comforting her, encouraging her, whispering that everything would be alright... Sometimes it worked and she felt better the next days but most times she felt bitter, she felt robbed of a future where he was in her life.

The realization that the person she was supposed to share her soul with was no longer alive, that his death was painful, gruesome, and... lonely... It always ended with her taking a few days to prevent a breakdown...

When she turned 13, Hawkmoth appeared and Marinette became Ladybug, the hero of Paris.

Soon after, Marinette stopped talking with "Damian", she couldn't afford to wonder about him anymore. She couldn't afford the bliss of her own delusions. She couldn't afford to let herself grief and fall pray to Hawkmoth's manipulation.

As she couldn't fail Paris and its citizens, Damian Wayne mostly disappeared from her life.

But there were days when her “friends” demanded a lot from her, akumas were too violent and draining and everything was just too much, those the godawful days.

On godawful days she wished Damian was there to take her away to a place she could feel she belonged. Away from everything to a place she could call a home.

_______

Most nights Damian recalls a voice talking to him during the time he was dead.

His soulmate, he supposed, talked to him regularly, she started her day asking his opinion on her outfit for the day, when at home she would tell him how her day went, what she did with her friends, what she learned in class, etc...

At first, Damian was pretty much annoyed that he couldn't "rest in peace" with all the noise pollution but after a few weeks, he slowly started to tolerate her talking to him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't talk to her nor see her very clearly so it was a pleasant surprise when Marinette would ask his opinion to make a decision, she always picked what he chooses.

Perhaps it was their bond that allowed her to know what he was thinking without actually hearing each other's thoughts. Or maybe they were more in sync with one another. Most likely it was pure luck on her part. (Him being dead is enough proof of how bad his luck was.)

In the months he was dead, Damian learned a grand lot Marinette. He liked how she made him feel he wasn't alone, like how her voice calmed him when he remembered the family he left behind in his death. Marinette was his only lighthouse in the vast void of the afterlife

_______

Impotent, despair, and hopeless.

That's how Damian felt every time Marinette had to relive his death. He hated it so much. She didn't deserve that and it broke his heart every damn time.

Why did he have to die? Why did it have to be in such a painful way? Why did she have to feel it on repeat over and over and over again? Was it a twisted way the universe tried to make them reunited? If they can't find each other in life, then they can be together in death? That isn't right!

But it always hurts more when she wakes up and talks to him. Wondering if he was happy and in peace, in wherever place he ended up.

He was there but she didn't know.

He felt sick.

After being revived, Damian felt an immense sense of loss. Sure, he was kinda happy to reunite with his family and grateful for being alive again, but he missed her.

It was difficult to readjust to being alive again, it was crystal clear that Damian Wayne wasn't okay. What hurts him the most was how her name turned into a scar on his wrist.

During the day paranoia settled in making him always on high alert, lashing out when it got too much for him.

In the night, he couldn't sleep properly as a feeling of unease latched onto his every nerve and when he did sleep, nightmares plagued him.

Damian tried to calm down in various ways, but ultimately it was Marinette's voice that soothed him and lulled him to sleep.

It quickly became a habit to replay their one-sided conversations as he tries to fall asleep.

He went over what Marinette Dupain-Cheng spoke to him time and time again as to engrave her voice in his mind. Unfortunately, her voice was fading away, every time he recalled it, he hear his own voice.

At least some memories remained, which was relieving for Damian, even when important ones like what language she spoke or the name of her school were completely wiped out.

He never told his family his experience while he was dead, he guesses Jason was the most likely to know about it but he never brought it up to anyone, so Damian did the same.

Now he was lying in bed, remembering about the time Marinette tried embroidery for the first time.

She started by searching up what she wanted it to be and after much talking, she chose a Robin, Damian smile at the eagerness he felt for her to chose it. It was a fun day, with her making comments here and there about the work, he wishes he could see it.

A knock woke him up of his thoughts, Alfred emerging from the door.

"Master Damian, I'm here to inform you a guest will be joining us for tomorrow's dinner."

"Whose guest?" He didn't really feel like dealing with new people.

"It's Master Jason's guest."

Damian groans, perhaps he could go visit Kent.

"It would be in your best interest to participate, Master Damian." Alfred gave him a look.

He sighed, definitely can't miss tomorrow or he'll have to face Pennyworth.

So, I've written another chapter while listening to a sad song on repeat :') I know it doesn’t really connect to the last chapter but I wasn’t feeling okay and didn’t know how to continue from where I left off.

I hope y’all enjoyed this and have a nice day!

P.S.: The taglist is temporarily closed as some tags aren't working. Again, I'm very sorry if I missed anyone. If you no longer want to be tagged please hit me up.

Taglist:

@thestressmademedoit @moonlightstar64 @dast218 @moonystars14 @buticaaba @urbanpineapplefarmer @thedragonbug @little-lady-bird @an-actual-changeling @ladybug-182 @ash-amg @g-arya @nnon-it-up @hateswifi @maribat-is-lifeblood @kikooaaaaaa @jessigurl-design @vixen-uchiha @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @snow-leopard-777 @theatreandcomicfreak @zalladane @fusser90 @finallyaniguana @danielslilangel @dreamykitty25 @corabeth11 @ellymae21 @books-and-left-behind-journals @hetalia-lover-is-here @dorkus-minimus @magic-miraculous @waywardpeachgardenshark @darkthunder1589 @jaggedheart11 @daminettes @todaylillypads @schrodingers25 @pheonixashtree @mikantsume @eliza-bich @miraculous-simmer7 @goblinwhoships @fidget-eep @rosalineandrosemary @lunarwolfspn @more-or-less-human-i-guess @aestheticnpoetic @amayakans @abrx2002 @karategirl119 @agentofscifi @flower-and-drawing @itsmeevie01 @suddenly-i-kin-oikawa @ii-fox-demon @thatonecroc @dawnwave16 @bigpicklebananatree @violentbisexualprophecywriter @scribblinggraveyard @heaven428 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ravennightingaleandavatempus @chylou34 @silvergold-swirl @magictragic-world @snowstar1016 @heldtogetherbysafetypins @awkwardoneout @novicevoice @thenillabean @bookishdork13 @laurcad123 @thezestywalru @k-poplunardreams @coloursforyourportrait @fandomsaremylifeline @goddessofthewestwind @captainmac6 @chocolatecatstheron @princessanimeangel11 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @ur-beautiful-when-u-smile @batlover1303 @softlysobbingpostendgame @justconfusedperiod @clumsy-owl-4178 @bluesimani @iwritelikeimrunningoutoftime @kokotaru @totalyasexual @professionalfangirl1738 @nitholites @zestyzealot @pawsitivelymiraculous @autiegirlshit @raz-b-rose @thanks-captain-obvious @emilytopaz @nightstarblue @2confused-2doanything @niknak-3 @blackroserelina @fortunatelyoptimisticdeer @ira-sairain @pepelachanel @naimena @iloveitwhen @disneyfoxuniverse @ur-average-reader @lylshyt @jerusalemandolives @anonymously-odd @southamericanghotamite @a-star-with-a-human-name @we-want-mini-mini @literallytryingmybestbutok @alenee13 @animegirlweeb @our-preciousss @prudencerika @byronsacademics @ivymala07 @shamefullove @susiej1118 @technicallyburninggarden @sentimentalcrap @ertyzeta @tomanyfandomsonmymind @starmist19 @synnesstra @nokia75 @swiftie-miraculer13 @solideogloria172 @a-door-into-my-mind @road-work-ahead123 @madking-warqueen @caseoftheblues @buginetye @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere @i-wanna-go-to-outerspace @insane-fangirl-of-everything @ultimatetornshipper @chaoticstarworld @adrestar @wolf-for-life @blacktea-ba @pinkk-sheep @autiegirlshit @chocolateherringtacofan @blackroserelina @samopotahto @blur-of-colours @stainedglassm @redbullgivescaswings @khneltea @amigotasbien @sdg-demachera @alyssadeliv @greatcatblaze @raesofmoonlight @galla02006 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @novaloptr @qualitypeacepainter @solangelo252 @unnamed2357 @thespianlesb @mildlydeadly @yuriyuhitsu @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @literaryhiraeth @luna025 @henie04 @trashesa @castle-bookworms-world

#daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #maribat #ml x dc #soulmate au #angst #in the death of the night

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egyptsblackrose · 3 years

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Dancing with Strangers

This is by far the longest chapter, hopefully I’ve tied all the loose ends and come to a decent conclusion. Stay tuned fro more fics.

Part 1 - https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/648370506842701824/a-rose-by-any-other-name

Part 5 -https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/654891313044635648/dancing-with-strangers-there-will-be-one-more-part

Part 6- The end, enjoy!

It had been eight months since your first meeting with Gojo Satoru and Kakashi Hatake. This had been the longest relationship either men had ever had, both as a three or on their own. It was also painfully clear how absolutely in love both men were with you, and you with them. The change in the three of you was as clear as day, never had anyone seen each of you so happy - is what you constantly heard from everyone you knew, and when you ran into a friend or relative of theirs… with a few exceptions.

The truth had come out about a month in that Gojo was the one with all the money. A ‘representative of his household’ had come to the apartment to visit and go over ‘matters concerning the family’. Satoru had been so laid back through the whole thing, smirking mockingly at the clearly uncomfortable (stuck up) old butler. He’d grabbed your waist as you were walking towards the door to leave, pulling you down and into his lap. It became clear that he wanted to mess with the man opposite him, even Kakashi seemed in on it because he kissed you sweetly as he walked passed.

Gojo wasn’t able to hide his bitterness when the man finally left though, burying his head into your neck and hugging you tightly. His father had been a politician and his mother a CEO of a successful company, he still had connections because of them and shares that were doing incredibly well. Not to mention their life insurance had been enough to set anyone for life.

“It’s not like I was close to them to begin with.” He’d muttered in a bored manner when you’d teared up at the mention of a Satoru toddler being left alone, surrounded by people who wanted to use him for money, power and influence. The butler was a man hired by his fathers old political party and the other share holders at his mothers company. They apparently weren’t best pleased with him settling for being a small time policeman, had hoped to mould him into their puppet to keep both their money making schemes going.

To cheer the three of you up, Gojo had taken the three of you on a spontaneous trip to an Onsen that one of his friends owns, up in the middle of no where. The beautiful, traditional building with modern interior was nestled on the side of a frigging mountain that could only be reached through a thick, ancient forest.

You were the only three guests, and the workers were even excused for the evening, so it felt like you were the only three in the world with the next person been miles away. Which you were insanely grateful for. Because Kakashi and Gojo had made it a completion between them on who could make you scream the loudest.

Three months later, Kakashi had appeared out of no where behind you while you were cooking dinner, wrapping his arms round you gently and kissing your neck soothingly. “Would you join me for a day out tomorrow?”

“Of course I will,” You giggled, shivering as his lips ghosted over the marks on your neck and shoulders, drawing invisible lines like he was drawing constellations. “Where are we going?”

Hatake was silent for a moment before he squeezed you tighter. “I’m going to introduce you to my father.”

To say you were nervous was an understatement, you had agonised over the right outfit for hours the night before, asking both Miku and Sakura for their help. You should have known better, they had spent the majority of the time gushing over your boyfriends and how serious it was getting between you. After all, no one had ever heard of the two most wanted bachelors introducing their conquests to their family and friends, or even going on trips with their lovers, let alone keeping their interest this long.

Finally settling on one of your favourite outfits; something simple, comfortable and trendy, you kept your make-up light and as natural as possible and called yourself ready. Meeting at their apartment, you were surprised to see Kakashi in his policeman formal uniform. God the man looked dashing. Wearing white gloves, black dress shoes, a smart navy suit, light blue tie, hat tucked under his arm and a smirk on his handsome face.

“Enjoying the view baby?” He teased.

You nodded dumbly, bitting your lip to try hide your smirk. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more handsome, you have to go devastate my heart like that.”

“Maybe me and Sato should wear these tonight then.” The suggestion had your thighs clenching, suddenly it was hard to swallow. Hatake chuckled lazily having seen your reaction. “Later baby girl, for now, we have somewhere to go.”

The cemetery was the LAST place you were expecting this day to take you. Kakashi stopped at his fathers tome stone and saluted. It was at least two decades since his fathers death. Kakashi Sakumo, Hatake’s father, had been a respected police detective, and his whole inspirational drive to become a policeman. When Hatake was young, his father had led a team in a drug bust against some of the biggest names in the Yakuza, but had chosen to save his men’s lives rather than capture the villains when things had gone wrong.

The ‘failure’ was a black mark against his name, and soon his was shunned by the media, his fellow detectives and the whole police force. The abuse became so bad, that he took his own life. From then on, Hatake had lived and grown up with Gojo who he was already inseparable with.

“For the longest time…I blamed him too.” Kakashi admitted quietly, holding onto your hand like a life line. “He had a duty to take those dangerous men off the streets, to make the city a safer place for the public, for kids who were in danger of either being hooked onto drugs or joining gangs. Instead he chose to save the lives of his team.” You were silent, what could you possibly say to ease his pain? “But now…” Hatake raised his head with a proud smile. “My views have changed. He didn’t want to chase glory, he just wanted to do the right thing and save lives. In that moment, they needed him, he saw that and did his best. He was willing to die for his men, he didn’t want to see all those family’s mourning for lives he could have spared. I can only hope that one day, I will be as brave as him.”

You are not ashamed to say you cried, standing there looking at the grave of the man who had made Hatake into the man he was. Into the man you loved. You bowed deeply and gave your thanks, promising out loud to take care of his son for as long as you were allowed. Kakashi’s own eyes watered at this as he pulled you close. You don’t know how long you stood there holding each other for, but it didn’t feel like long enough. Part of you thought it would never be enough when it came to the two amazing men who looked at you like you were their whole world.

After the visit, Kakashi had taken you to the old, more traditional part of town so you could go to his favourite restaurant. The two of you were the first to arrive and the last to leave, laughing so much to the point where you were both in tears. It was so light and care free, and you could see the weight just lift off of Hatake’s shoulders.

And when you both finally made it back to their apartment, Gojo was sat on the sofa waiting. Smirking. Also in uniform. That night, not one of you slept.

With your hands locked together in cuffs and blindfold around your eyes, you shook like a leaf in the wind as Kakashi took you from behind, Gojo at your front. If it had been anyone else trying to blindfold you and tie you up, you would have absolutely said no. As it was, Kakashi loved seeing you so vulnerable. So much so that he had stretched your arse as he’d enthusiastically eaten you out, and was now taking advantage of his VERY thorough prep work. He held a vibrator to your clit as he fucked your arse, Gojo keeping your mouth open and busy as he kissed you hungrily so they could hear your moans, squeezing and playing with your tits as he took your front just as roughly.

Not only did you squirt first time, your pretty sure you blacked out for a second. Not that the boys were deterred, they knew you’d tell them if it became too much. Besides, the sounds you were making; the moans, the wet squelching from how wet you were, it was the best yet. You couldn’t walk the next day though and had to ask Miku to record your lecture.

By the fifth month, Gojo and Kakashi had broached the idea of you moving in with them. It was a casual comment made in light conversation one Sunday morning, when they FIRST brought it up. Then it was Kakashi suggesting you keep more of your things with them, mostly because you would ask them to take you back to your apartment with the girls so you could get ready for the day, meaning you would leave earlier than they would like. Eventually Gojo decided they were being too subtle and would cling to you in the mornings, begging you to not leave and to stay with them.

“You guys remember that I’m living with two roommates already right? I can’t just up and leave them like that, they won’t be able to afford rent!”

“But beautifu~l! We want you here with us!”

“What our idiot means to say baby-”

“Hey!”

“Is that, you already spend so much time here, and we love having you with us. Our apartment is even closer to your Uni building! It makes sense surely, for you to move in with us. Or for us even to find a place together-”

“Wow, ok slow down there!” You butt in quickly, cheeks turning pink. Finally the boys had had enough of dancing around the subject and had sat you down to talk about it properly. Talking about moving into their lush apartment was one thing, but talking about a place together, was something else entirely!

Gojo pouted at you in annoyance. “What, you don’t want to live with us?”

“I’m not saying that!” You defended instantly, frowning at him. “I’m saying it’s a BIG step, and I get that you guys feel ready for it, but I don’t ok? For one, five months isn’t that much time dating someone, second, I don’t even have a job yet! And don’t tell me money isn’t an issue and I don’t have to pay rent cause God help me Satoru, I will get up and leave right now.” You threatened.

“Ok you two, lets take a deep breath and talk about this calmly ok?” Hatake soothed, squeezing both your hands. “Baby, if you don’t feel ready then that’s fine, we will not force you. But please know that when you ARE ready, we WANT you here. Ok?” Nodding in understanding, you started to relax. Gojo huffed and crossed his arms, but nodded in agreement. “And about you looking for a job and paying rent. We are not trying to baby you or the like, we just want to take care of you. We know you can take care of yourself but that wont stop us from WANTING to take care of you because you are YOURS. Understand? We love and cherish you, and if we can help you, we want to. If it was us in a difficult situation and you could help us, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, in a heartbeat.” You muttered with a slight pout.

Kakashi beamed. “It’s the same in our eyes.” And that had been the end of that…for the time being that is.

Just short of the six month mark, you had agreed to go out again with the girls for a night out. Kakashi and Gojo had encouraged you to go, promising that when they were done with their shift, they would come pick you up. They had even bought you a gift voucher for your birthday to buy a new outfit. You had been sure to send the boys a flattering pic of yourself all dolled up before you had left for the night, receiving such thirsty replies that no one would guess that you had spent the night before with them.

The night had been going perfectly, once again you were the most sober of the group, which you were now used to. You had a nice buzz going, there had already been so many laughs and the girls were excitedly giggling about the stories you shared on your boyfriends. (Of course the intimate, personal things you kept to yourself.) You had been to a few bars and your group agreed to end the night at the club you had met your boys in, ‘The Ninja Shrine’. Texting the two policemen still on shift, you let them know that you and your friends had arrived safely, were going to order your drinks and you would be eagerly waiting for them for a dance.

Gojo replied with multiple winky, smirky, and red with sweat drop faces. Kakashi was the only one to give you a verbal reply, promising to be there as soon as they could, and ‘ordering’ you to behave until they arrived. It made you smile, biting your lip. ‘No promises’ was your reply with a winky face, locking your phone and ignoring the bings that followed, knowing that would rile them up more than a reply.

Despite the clear teasing, you stayed against the bar, talking and laughing with your friends as you sipped at your drink. The girls did try convince you to dance with them at one point, but you were waiting a certain pair to join you. After all, dancing with the girls was fun, but it was even better when you had certain pairs of eyes on your body.

“Oh shit,” Miku cursed, suddenly grabbing your arm and turning you away from the door.

“What the hell-?”

“Don’t turn around!” Miku earned, holding onto your shoulders. “One of your boys’s old flings is here, and trust me you don’t want anything to do with her.” Looking subtly out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a pretty strawberry blonde with soft brown eyes and a confident smirk. You could clearly see her figure through her flashy outfit, her expensive designer shoes and handbag on show like she was on the Paris run way. “She was with them for four months, her names Claire Aoki, and she’s a psycho if you ask me.” Miku continued carefully.

Before you could react, the door opened once more and in came your two boyfriends, looking like sex on legs. Gojo wore a flashy designer get up with black jeans and dress shoes, a blue shirt and a leather jacket that you knew for a fact cost more than your joint rent with the girls. Kakashi was also in black dress shoes, black dress pants, a dark grey shirt and a lighter grey silk vest. Their eyes landed on you immediately and began smiling. You smiled back, beaming when they started heading your way.

They hadn’t made it two steps before they were stopped by Claire, her red manicured-nailed hands resting on their chests as she leaned in towards them, pressing her chest into their arms. Kakashi looked panicked, eyes widening as his eyes darted up towards you, then down to her and back. Gojo’s smile shrunk, it was still there, but it looked much more forced now as his blue eyes narrowed at the other woman.

Curious, and not worried at all, you leaned back against the bar. You turned to make yourself look as relaxed as possible, replicating the same look you had the night they had pulled you away from your friends to charm the pants off of you. Your head tilted and your smile grew as their eyes kept on drifting to you. Whatever Claire was saying clearly wasn’t keeping their attention.

Your smile turned to a smirk as Beast by Mia Martina started playing, slowly pushing off the bar as you headed to the dance floor, your friends following. Closing your eyes, you let the music take you away, body rolls moving slow, deliberate. You caught their eyes by dancing for yourself, but now you knew their weaknesses, the parts of you that they loved to tease and squeeze, you knew their bodies like you knew your own. And you fully intended to use that to your advantage.

“Keep your eyes on me,” You sang, looking both men dead in the eyes, smirking as their gazes struggled to meet yours, roaming your form hungrily like they hadn’t seen you in months. “Come here right now,” You continued, your hands reaching out to them, beckoning them to you. “Cause when the sun goes down the beast comes out,” Dropping to the floor, you straightened your legs so you were bent in half, slowly coming up and curving your back as you flipped your hair back gracefully.

“Take you down, down can you keep it up all night,” Smirking, you spun slowly as you exaggerated your hip swaying, making sure they got an eye full of your behind. “You all over my skin, I’m anxious, paint my body boy’s I’ll be your canvas.” Your head snapped back, showcasing all their bruises that they left from the night before.

Next thing you knew, two sets of hands were gripping you tight, one set on your hips and another on your upper thighs. “Da~nm Beautiful!” Gojo growled lowly into your ear, your grin stretching as you giggled, Kakashi ducking his head to bite your neck. “First you ignore us, then you go and put on a show like that for anyone to see. What are you trying to do, hu? You just want us to bend you over our knees don’t you?”

“Maybe I do,” You teased. “Or maybe I’m trying to prove a point to someone who was getting too handsy with what wasn’t theirs.”

“Oh? Someone was getting jealous? As sexy as you are ‘staking your claim’, doesn’t change the fact that your going to get your punishment when we get home, beautifu~l!” Satoru teased, his hand dragging up your body till his hand was at your neck, then he squeezed.

Kakashi let out a ragged breath at your moan. “I think we should get out of here.” Pressing himself harder into you, you could feel his impatience clearly through his pants.

You dared to look around you, eyes meeting with soft brown eyes glaring daggers at you with so much hatred. You would have been scared six months ago, you would have shrunk and shied away. But how could you now when Gojo and Kakashi were stood with you, hands all over you, demanding your love and attention, making you feel so treasured and powerful.

“Kiss me first.” You demanded. Satoru didn’t even hesitate for a second, pulling you into a searing kiss full of passion and desire. You faintly heard Miku and your friends cat call and wolf whistle somewhere near the bar, causing Gojo to pull away and chuckle. The opening was all Kakashi needed. His kiss was equally breathtaking, his movements slower and more controlled, but clearly as desperate to lay claim.

When Hatake pulled away, Gojo effortlessly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, smacking your arse when you struggled. So you smacked his right back. Again, you couldn’t walk the next day.

By the end of the eight first months, you had finally landed a job interview and was offered the job on the spot, starting small but promised promotions if your work was up to standard. Around the same time your lease on the shared apartment with your friends was up, and you had finally given into your boyfriends hints and agreed to look for a place you could all afford together. What’s more, your graduation was less than a month away. Things were finally falling into place.

You had yet to broach the subject of your relationship status with your parents, though you were pretty sure they had figured out that you were at least dating someone by this point. Admitting that you hadn’t mentioned anything to your parents, you were nervous how the boys would react. But they had simply shrugged, nodded in understanding and reminding you that if you needed their help they were here for you.

Most importantly, you had a job you were doing well in, you were moving into a beautiful home, your friends were happy and doing well in their own fields, and you had two men who loved you unconditionally. You were sure everything was going to work out just right. And with Gojo and Satoru by your side, you could over come anything.

#y/n #you #my own work #gojo #satoru #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #reader #Kakashi #hatake #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #Kakashi Hatake x reader #smut #love story #final chapter

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sarahjtv · 3 years

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BNHA Chapter 319 Spoiler Analysis: Found Family

Holy crap what a phenomenal chapter! This arc in general has been great, but this chapter might be one of my favorites of the arc. Not just because it focuses on Class 1-A (I’m so glad to see the kids again), but because of the growth we see in these kids in general especially Bakugo and Shoto IMO. Like, holy shit ESPECIALLY BAKUGO! I stand by my opinion that Bakugo is one of the best developed characters in the series. There’s so much I want to say about this chapter and I’ll try my best to do so if my poor injured left hand will let me 😭:

The chapter starts off with the first of 3 colored pages we’re going to get over the next few weeks to celebrate 7 YEARS OF MY HERO ACADEMIA!!! CONGRATS, HORIKOSHI-SENSEI!!! This series revived my love of anime/manga and really helped me in some really rough spots in my life. I will forever be grateful towards Horikoshi for bringing this series to life and blessing us with such an incredible story full of beautiful characters. MHA may be a little overrated, but I still think it deserves all the love it can get.

Anyway, the color page. It shows Uraraka, Iida (who has red eyes here, so IDK why the anime gives him blue eyes though I do think they work better for him personally *shrugs*), Shoto, Tokoyami, and Bakugo after basically figuring out where Deku went. Bakugo is shown tearing up his letter (which says something like “Thank you for being there, Kacchan”; there’s more but I can’t translate it 😭) and you can kinda see some bandage wrap around his arm where he was stabbed. Also, both Bakugo and Shoto still have some visible injuries on their faces and Bakugo’s hands, so they’re still recovering from the War. It’s a really pretty page in general and I can’t wait to see what the next 2 color pages are going to look like. I also kinda want Horikoshi to take a break after this too again so he doesn’t overwork himself. Maybe he’ll treat himself to the MHA: World Heroes Mission movie 🍿.

So, Shoto and Bakugo have figured out that Deku is most likely with Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist. Problem is that none of them are answering their phones. I like that Bakugo calls Best Jeanist “Pair of Denim Pants” 😂 and Shoto’s image of Endeavor is still a very angry version of his old man. Shoto’s still making amends with his father, but he’s still not THERE yet. Regardless, these kids are smart enough to know that something’s up. Especially since All Might hasn’t returned to UA either.

It’s basically confirmed by Ojiro that because classes have been suspended, our Class 1-A kids are still 1-A; they haven’t moved into their second year yet. That clears up the confusion on whether we should still refer these group of kids as 1-A still or not.

Now Bakugo’s showing how much of a genius he really is despite his personality. Bakugo figures out that the Top 3 and All Might are working together as a group based on how they all connected with each other back at Central Hospital. Also, Bakugo concludes that All Might snuck Deku’s letters under their doors while Deku started running. Ultimately, Bakugo does know more about Deku and All Might more than anyone else does. He’s been around his childhood friend and he’s admired his idol longer than most people have. Bakugo understands how bad the situation is and he’s ready to take action.

As are the other kids. You can see how determined they are and you can see Kirishima’s black roots coming in 🥺! Even Uraraka gets some shine here by bringing up the idea to trick Endeavor to come via getting help from Principle Nezu as Endeavor was a UA student. It’s really interesting to see Ochako in a more serious roll than usual, but I actually like it. I hope she’s still as bubbly as she always was at the end of the day, but she’s definitely matured and grown a lot over the corse of the series. Even the simple things like her hair show it as it’s not as floaty as it was before. I love it when Horikoshi shows small details like this. It adds to the characters and stories a lot. Also, the art in this chapter is amazing.

And now it’s Endeavor vs. Class 1-A in a much needed conversation. All the kids are wearing their school uniforms to make this as formal and serious as they can. EVEN BAKUGO IS PROPERLY WEARING HIS TIE YOU KNOW SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN!!! And, I must say, Bakugo looks damn good with a tie 😳. You can also get a decent height measurement on the kids here if you want. Ngl, sometimes I forget that Shoto’s about 2 inches taller than Bakugo. It’s definitely the hair.

Shoto’s the first to step up and he scolds the hell out of his old man. Rightfully so tbh. Endeavor shouldn’t have ignored Shoto’s calls even though I kind of understood why. Shoto reminds Endeavor of their plan to stop Dabi though thankfully that’s what’s pushing Endeavor forward so he hasn’t forgotten. Shoto calls his father “Endeavor” and gets mad at him fro leaving Deku and All Might alone. The rough translations say he called Izuku “Deku” here too btw. Endeavor has no response. I think this anger Shoto’s unleashing is very justified and has been burning inside him since Deku left UA. His best friend just up and left him and his friends with nothing but a letter to kinda explain things. Also, Shoto and the rest of 1-A (minus Bakugo) have basically been lied to for about a year. I’d want answers too if someone did that to me.

Bakugo steps in by putting a hand on Shoto’s shoulder (🥺) to calm him down a bit and to say his piece. Ultimately, he thinks what Deku is doing is right, but that the way they’re all doing it is wrong. I love Deku and All Might, but they’re sacrificial idiots. They care more about others than they probably ever will themselves. That’s how All Might lost his OFA in the first place. It’s because of that that All Might doesn’t have it in him to stop Deku from going down this path. They shouldn’t have been left alone. Someone should’ve kept a closer eye on them. I know the Top 3 were all worried about getting too close to Deku before, but really, someone should’ve been watching them closer on the sidelines.

The next page is a really cool drawing of Endeavor flinging his phone to the kids to catch. The previous panels showed Endeavor with this face that’s regretful and I think he realized something: That Bakugo is right and that the kids might be better off finding Deku than he is. So he basically gives the kids his GPS on his phone. Those are just my thoughts, but it does look like that. I don't think Endeavor’s just going to up and give up though. He’s probably going to start rethinking things though.

As Sero manages to catch Endeavor’s phone, he and the rest of the kids think about how even though they’ve only known Deku for a year, they still think of him as family and cannot let him go down this thorny path alone. They’ll carry the OFA burden with him if they have to. They can’t smile without Deku around. These kids truly have become a family over the year. It’s amazing to see. Everyone’s like a brother and sister and it’s really nice to see. I just love Found Family stories, guys 😭❤️

And really quick, I want to focus on my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto, really quick. As he’s thinking about Deku, he mentions how shocked he still is about Deku keeping OFA from them and how Deku thought just a letter would suffice. He has this sad look on his face like he’s trying to say: “I still can’t believe my best friend hid this from me for so long. Why? Did he not trust me?” That’s just my interpretation. Still, I can’t imagine how upset Shoto must feel. I think he still cares a lot about Deku enough to go out and find him, but he’s gotta feel some sort of betrayal. More so than the other students outside of Bakugo because, again, Deku was essentially Shoto’s best and closest friend 💙😭

Endeavor is rightfully worried about letting the kids out in the state of Japan right now, but now Principle Nezu speaks up and praises the kids on growing up so well. He’s also took into account Deku's feelings about his mission which is why he agreed to the team up. Also, Deku’s still welcome back to UA whenever he wants thank god ☺️. He’s a student who has to be protected. There’s a cute panel of Uraraka and her mom crying happily after getting her acceptance letter too. Not 100% why this is shown other than Acceptance Letter part, but it’s cute to see. Maybe Ochako realizes how much Deku needs to be protected or something.

As for the refugees, Nezu had the security system strengthened in time for the Cultural Festival earlier, but they never used it before. It’s call The UA Barrier. God, how strong is this thing? Is it strong enough to stop Shigaraki who was able to Decay the last barrier? This seems like something that’ll be used in the final battle TBH.

So, Nezu trust the 1-A kids to bring Deku back home. Which is exactly what they plan to do as all 19 of them enter Kamino in a badass full page. I actually wasn’t sure if all 19 of them were there at first since I couldn’t find Shoto for the life of me, but then my eyes saw the BIG-ASS ICE WALL IN THE BACK AND I THOUGHT “OH THERE HE IS!!!” LOL 😂

The next panel actually does show Shoto with Momo as they capture the villain from the last chapter. Momo politely calls Bakugo “Bakugo-san”, but Bakugo demands that he be called his insane hero name: “GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT”! I CAN’T WITH THIS DUDE SOMETIMES WHY DO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 💥🧡

Deku sees his friend and wonders why they came. Ochako answers because that they were worried about him, but Deku tries to convince everyone (including himself) that he’s fine. He’s obviously not and Bakugo calls TF out on him! He even drops a good F-bomb for good measure. Bakugo mocks Deku for trying to act like All Might and asks Deku if he can even smile right now. I actually really like it that Bakugo’s calling Deku out on his shit. I think Deku needs some good tough love right now to knock some sense into him. Who would be better to do that than Katsuki Bakugo himself?

As Deku is trying to convince everyone that’s he’s fine (while still looking like a demon btw), there’s a small focus on Iida. Actually, a few panels this chapter have focused on Iida. Maybe he’s remembering the time Deku saved him back when they went up against Stain. Deku saved him then so it’s now Iida’s turn to save Deku. Also, Iida hasn’t gotten much focus lately and I really like his character, so I’m glad he’s being brought back to the forefront again. Also, I like hearing Kaito-san’s voice in general so I’d be happy to hear him again (thanks for that one, Haikyuu).

The final spread shows Deku telling everyone to move away while Bakugo, Iida, and Ochako get ready to stop him. IT’S DEKU VS. CLASS 1-A!!! WE’RE ENTERING CIVIL WAR FOLKS!!! Seriously, though, this is great. I was thinking that it would be just Bakugo and a few other students finding Deku. Instead we got the whole class. And looks like that “helping hand” thing will happen later because we got a battle to fight first.

Bakugo’s become a damn fine leader and I love to see his growth every freaking time🧡! I like how Iida has his hand on Bakugo’s back to support him btw. It’s weird that Shoto’s not in this page though. He’s one of Deku’s best friends, so I would think he would be in this page along with Bakugo and his first 2 friends (Ochako and Iida). Maybe Horikoshi’s saving Shoto for a more 1-on-1 conversation with Deku. God, I hope that happens because I think along with Bakugo, Shoto deserves a good talk with Deku the most.

Honestly, I’m not sure who would win this battle. I’ve been going through scenarios in my head on who would win, but I can’t come to a solid answer. Class 1-A has 19 versatile Quirks under their belt and they have more energy than Deku to fight, but Deku still has 6 insanely powerful Quirks that he’s been practicing for a while. The kids could probably win if they strategize enough and use Deku’s exhaustion against him, but again, Deku has OFA and multiple other Quirks. If he could beat Lady Nagant, one of the best snipers around, he might be able to beat the 1-A kids. He could just escape with Smoakscreen, Black Whip, and Float if he wants to really. That would put 1-A on another wild goose chase. There’s also Deku’s Danger Sense which will be a pain to deal with. Also, Deku said that he’s as strong as All Might was in his prime with Fa-Jin and OFA combined. Only AFO and Shigaraki were strong enough to take on THAT. Plus, we still don’t know what the 2nd OFA Holder’s Quirk is yet. Deku might use it in this battle. God, I have so many theories in my head now. I think this battle will be awesome, but ultimately, I want Deku to come home 😭💚

Me reading and loving My Hero Academia:

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chaotically-zen · 2 years

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humans are so fucking cool.

being in Hawaii has been so refreshing for the soul. It’s only been a few days and I have already made so many connections and heard stories of real people living. I am living such a beautiful life full of stories and excitement and am so grateful to have people like Devon and alex to share it with. Can’t wait to continue building my “vibe tribe” as well.

the people I’ve met in Hawaii

- frank driver: this man has fucking LIVED. (Maybe too much haha). Frank was our 79 year old Uber driver who was a real ass hippie in LA in the 60s and 70s. He was in the army and after felt he needed to be radical. He smuggled weed in and out of LA and Hong Kong. And with that money made music. Then, after 5 years he got caught and went to jail. At the time, acid was his preferred drug of choice. Yet, he found Jesus and it really helped him in Jail. He is now a whole ass preacher. And lives between Alaska and Hawaii with his kids. Man is wild. Says girls r critters. Jesus is all.

- bee lady: we met this lady in a little shop in Paia. She was so sweet and worked at a local shop that sells honey from their bee farm. Bees are endangered right now and are essential to our food and daily life. We ended up talking about natural foods and how much better they are for our body. She is also Native American and Hawaiian and talked to us about the culture their. It was an impactful conversation. Indigenous people have been treated so poorly. It is so sad and their culture is so beautiful. She really appreciate talking to us and told us we have her hope for the future.

- Chris and Audrey / Mia: this was a magical interaction. We were in Lahaina and wanted to get henna. We first found a tattoo place that we really liked but it had a long line. However, the cutest kids ever talked to us there. We continued to walk around but alex (who usually doesn’t feel this way) insisted we go back to this henna place as he felt that it had a good vibe. So we went back and it was such an amazing experience. The family with the kids was still there. Mia, the tattoo artist, and them were talking and we inserted ourselves naturally into the conversation. It ended up being such a deep talk about the universe and holistic wellness, etc. Mia told us how each Hawaii island is connected to a Chakra. Chris and Audrey talked about how they are raising their multi culture kids and want them to be spiritual, healthy, and happy. They own a holistic wellness business making sea miss which has many health benefits. They were so warm and welcoming and told us they were here us and would show us the way. We exchanged contact info. Truly magical. It’s so nice to find like minded people and talk deeply about the uinverse and health. The universe has so much to give and we can use it heal our selves and hearts and souls.

- Mauricio: this man was a character. He was our Uber driver on the way home from Lahaina and told us all these insane stories. He was going on and on about business and sneaky ways to Make money. He is planning on being a multi millionaire in the next years. He used to work in a strip club and told us how much money can be made in bathroom attendant work and vending machines haha. So odd but interesting. We also were given secrets to Haleakala from him.

- lauren and Sara : both of these girls were so sweet and our age. They live in Kihei and moved to Hawaii. I feel like they would be whole ass friends of mine if I lived there / when I do. Sara worked at three rivers grill and lauren worked at local boys shaved ice. Good energy af.

- Helen (Uber driver): lived on a commune ran by Elizabeth Taylor’s brother, was a fisherman until her boat sank 50 miles out from shore, she then became a nurse and lives here to take care of her son. Had a mysterious in her passenger seat

- Uber driver earlier today Anita: is Hawaiian and her husband is too. Told us about some of the history and what is is like growing up there

- migmar : He is a young owner of a new crystal and holistic wellness / art store. He focuses on bringing different culture and people together and believes in universal love and community. He is Tibetan but has workers from Peru, Canada, Hawaiian, native Americans and more. The store he owned was beautiful and all is locally created things. It felt so vibrationally high and magical. We got really cool gifts and crystals. He is also friends w hitomi and plantiful soul. The store does a service project every Sunday too because they want to get out and help the community.

- Jewish hiking couple: saw them on the sleeping giant trail, super super friendly and had a beautiful baby named sunny! Love the name. They complimented my Janis Joplin tee.

- mike : our kayak guide and instructor who had radiant energy. was so sweet and energetic and told us all about living on Hawaii. He was born in California and moved all around working in the cannabis industry. He loves being a kayak guide bc u notice new things about the outdoors and landscape every day. He can call the birds and makes lots of food from the outdoors. Taught us about crazy plants and their natural uses.

- uber driver who gave us history:

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pocketfulofrogers · 4 years

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Planes, Trains, and Firetrucks

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Summary: What’s a polar vortex to a desperate sister trying to get home? With a little determination and the luck of a stranger, you might just be able to pull off a Christmas miracle.

Notes: So I got drunk with my aunt and uncle on Thanksgiving and watched the only Thanksgiving movie to both exist and be quoted in it’s entirety by my whole family. I woke up with a google note that said ‘Planes, Trains, and Automobiles but make it a love story.’ Kinda wished I had payed more attention to the movie now.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to reign in your frustration. You had been all over this airport for the last six hours desperately searching for any way to get home. So far, you had only been strung along.

“Is there anything to Chicago at all? I’m just trying to be back for even a portion of Christmas. Seriously, at this point I’d saddle up a horse.”

The woman scrunches her nose as she scrolls through her computer, a sense of defeat looming over you until she smiles quickly. “I found a 5am to Detroit that connects…” She trails off and begins to frown again. “Just canceled.”

“Seriously?!” The word explodes from your mouth unwarranted and much louder than intended and your hand flies to your mouth in embarrassment.

Before you can begin to apologize profusely, you hear the man behind you mumble under his breath. “Probably because of the giant winter storm and white out conditions covering the entire North East.”

You whip your head behind to glare at him, but he’s too focused on his phone to even notice that you had overhead him. Defeated, you turn back around and quietly apologize before grabbing your phone and sulking away, the guy behind you chuckling slightly.

Mom: Your sister just got here, she’s so excited to see you!

Barely managing to suppress your groan, you lean against a nearby pillar to type a response that hopefully won’t break anyone’s hearts.

The man pockets his phone and approaches the counter. “Hi, can I get a hotel voucher?”

“We’re prioritizing vouchers for flying families and couples first.” She smiles.

“Really?” He groans, loud enough to grab your attention and hears your chuckle from what he assumes you think is karmic justice. But when he locks eyes with you, he gets an idea. “That is so kind of you guys!” He exclaims with a smile. “My wife will love that.”

In the middle of trying to explain to your mom that you couldn’t have left any early, chuckles steps up in front of you with a grin, holding up a pamphlet and you narrow your eyes. “Be my wife for a night, cow girl?”

You roll your eyes and walk away from his laughter and fake apologies, not stopping until he calls your name. “This?” You gesture between the two of you. “This is creepy.”

He holds up his hands before sliding the voucher in his dark jean jacket pocket. “They wouldn’t give me the voucher unless I put another name down so I just said you were my wife.” He shrugs his shoulder as if he can’t see the problem. “Now I can’t check in unless you’re there.”

You grab your bag and start walking again. “Not my problem.”

To your dismay, he keeps up with you. “We’ve been running around this place all day, so you have got to be at least a little tired.” You really were. “I let you use my charger.” He did do that, but it doesn’t seem to him that his small act of airport kindness has swayed you. “How about we get some sleep and then I promise I will help get you to Chicago?”

This causes you to pause again and look him up and down, almost hating yourself for even considering it. Those piercing blue eyes didn’t seem to hold any malice, nor did his small smile. He was charming, that much was obvious, but so was Ted Bundy.

You cock a hip to the side. “You could be a serial killer.”

The smirk he flashes makes you a little weak. “So could you.”

“Fine, but we’re stopping for pepper spray.”

Each time Kelly closes his eyes and feels his exhaustion begin to pull him under, he hears you curse under your breath. You had been obsessively scouring the internet looking for a hail mary, but each time you hit a wall.

He had given up somewhere between the last car dealership left in a 100-mile radius to endure your guilt trip and the proposition of hitch hiking. Honestly, he was more concerned than surprised when you seemed disappointed at him shooting down the idea.

Despite this budding friendship, you had offered no details of yourself, even when asked. You made another serial killer joke when he asked you why it was so important you get home, but he didn’t miss how guarded you became.

The next time you groan is when he also gives up the idea of any form of rest. Kelly sits up quick enough to see you throw yourself back into the creaky swivel chair.

“Is there a battery pack on you or something?” His voice is gravely, thick with exhaustion and just a hint of frustration.

You wince. “I know, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that there’s not a single taxi or rental car available.”

“You could just buy a car.” He suggests it as an outlandish joke, but then your eyes light up.

“You’re a genius!”

Standing out in the middle of an alleyway, snow coating your hair, you can’t say your not a little nervous. Kelly is stood beside you despite very loudly voicing his opinion on how this was a terrible idea. Actually, that it was maybe the worst idea you’ve ever had.

“If anyone is going to be a serial killer, it’s going to be this guy.” He mumbles another remark, shifting his eyes to check your surroundings again.

You shoot a glare at him, but have to admit he’s probably right.

There wasn’t much in your bank account to spare, especially when you consider the price of a decent car. Craigslist offered one result in your price range within reasonable walking distance and you didn’t really stop to think it out.

Now you were in a barely lit backstreet leaking a smell you’d rather not name.

“You didn’t have to come.” You state, again.

He scoffs. “With your lack of self-preservation and this piece of shit that won’t make it out of the state? I won’t be responsible for you ending up on a milk carton.”

You want to comment that that’s not a thing anymore, but he had stuck by you for the last few hours and that’s more than you can usually expect from a stranger. “Aw, you care.” You reply instead.

It smells, terribly, but if you roll the windows down enough, you can hardly even notice. Wearing enough layers to not fell the cold is another story. You had expected Kelly to bail on you, insisting you wouldn’t blame him for running back to the warm comfort of clean sheets that weren’t his own, but again he shook his head.

He slept for the first six hours, grateful that you seemed to be a decent driver, but you tossed and turned in the back for about four before you climb back up front and ask to take over. There was only a little bit of gloating each time you passed through a city and grinned an ‘I told you so’ at him.

He doesn’t tell you, but he finds your giddiness contagious.

You don’t notice, but he keeps watching you whenever you’re not paying attention- intrigued by the woman who is actively going to hell and back just to get home. Matt told him he was insane, but there was something about you that he just couldn’t let go of.

He had watched you give up one of the only plane tickets left to a younger woman. Feeling touched as she cried in your arms. When you bought lunch for an unaccompanied minor and let her use up the entire battery life of your phone to watch a few movies, he knew he had to at least talk to you.

The only opener he had was a charger and it seemed to have been enough to get your trust.

“You know,” He starts, pulling his jacket tighter around him, hoping the rising sun would bring some form of warmth soon. He wasn’t hopeful. “I think I’ve earned a few questions.”

You glance at him and raise a brow. “Fine.”

“Are you always like this?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Your surprise makes you laugh.

“Prickly.” He clarifies.

“I’m not prickly, I’m stressed.” You defend yourself. “How are you not? Aren’t you trying to get home too, to see your family?”

He shrugs. “It’s out of my control, and the only family I have are people I get to see pretty regularly.” He smiles at you. “Guess I’m pretty lucky.”

“Well, it seems I’m definitely not.”

As if on cue, there’s a loud pop from the front of the car and it begins to sputter and smoke. Kelly is quick to calm you down and ease you into pulling off the road in the most soothing voice you think you may have ever heard.

Sitting on the side of the road, you only pick up your head from your knees when you hear a loud sigh and the hood slam shut. Kelly wipes the dark grease on his pants and gives you a solemn look.

“It’s toast.”

You let your head fall back onto your knees, not paying much attention to the encouraging words he tries to use to raise your spirits or the almost comforting hand on your shoulder, not even when they both disappear.

It isn’t until he’s grabbing the bags from the worst impulse buy of your life that you decide to check back in. “What are you doing?”

He points back to a semi-truck stopped not far behind with a smirk. “I told you I’m lucky.”

Your elbow bumps the trucker again and you pull you arms in closer to your body, try to scoot further away while being mindful of Kelly pressed close to you on your other side. Why you agreed to sit in the middle, you’ll only understand once you figured out why you agreed to this in the first place.

The man seemed nice enough, but it was two hours to the next city and you hadn’t slept in 36 hours.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do when we get there. Maybe find some wifi and look for our next ride?”

Kelly purses his lips. “How about we take an hour?”

“What are we supposed to in Dyersville on Christmas day?”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes when he smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

“Alright. This was a good idea.” You mumble around a mouthful of the burger you were trying to not inhale.

Somehow, Kelly had managed to convince a food truck to kick out one more order before packing up to get home. The smell hit you just as your hunger did and it didn’t take long for you to start stuffing your face.

He picks up his drink beside him on the bench and nods. “We needed this.”

“So bad.” You gush. You look around and finally feel like you can breathe again. “Maybe my luck’s turning. It’s a beautiful day, we’re so close, and this just might be the best burger I’ve ever had.”

He starts to laugh, but stops suddenly when he looks past your head. Before he can even react, the man he had been eying grabs your purse and takes off, Kelly quick on his heels. You yell after him, almost taking off too, but then his feet catch a patch of ice.

He goes down, hard and you rush to his side.

“Kelly? Kelly are you okay?” He’s touched by your concern, but he doesn’t have the breath in his lungs to convey it.

“Fine.” He grunts out.

“You folks alright?” A man with peppered hair and a thick grey mustache approaches behind you in a white button up. “We were just fixing our lights outside when we saw what happened. We’ve got two EMTs grabbing their bags if you’ll just stay where you are, son.”

Kelly waves him off, calling him chief, and tries to sit up. “Guy got her bag.”

You shush him and quickly help him up. “There’s nothing in there that can’t be replaced.” You assure him.

“Holy shit, is that Kelly Severide?” A woman calls out from across the street before jogging over. “Can’t wait to let the boys know that the great Lieutenant got played by a kid.”

Kelly chuckles at your confusion as he wipes his dirt covered hands on his jeans. “Gomez, nice to see you again.”

“You know each other?” You ask.

Gomez nods. “Lieutenant Severide here held a rope rescue training, whipped us all into shape. What brings you back here?”

Kelly sighs, adding a voice to the very rough time the last 20 hours had been. “Got snowed in just outside of Seattle. This one,” He points over to you and raises a brow. “Just had to get home and dragged me on and insane trip.”

Your jaw drops. “Dragged? You definitely refused to leave.”

“Only because I whole heartedly believed you’d get yourself killed.” He winks at you and you can’t suppress your smile.

The chief contemplates for a moment before offering up an old battalion car to get you through the final stretch. Kelly looks to you, smile beaming and makes another comment about his impeccable luck.

“So, you’re a firefighter.” You begin when the silence becomes a little too thick. “Is that why you were in Washington?”

Kelly nods. “Small city fire departments don’t have the resources we do. I try to go to a few a year to teach them how to use the stuff they have for difficult rescues.”

“Wow…” You trail off.

“You can’t ask me that question and not answer it for yourself.”

Rolling your eyes, you have to agree. “I was there for an interview. Some doctors there created a revolutionary treatment, and I was able to witness one of the surgeries.”

“Must be important for you to give up your Christmas Eve.”

You shrug. “My sister got really sick a few years ago. She’s okay now, but we weren’t able to see her for a really long time. Doctors saved her life and this could save someone else’s. It’s important information.”

“That’s why you wanted to get back?”

The moment becomes a little too heavy, but you manage a sad smile before you feel compelled to look out the window. “It’s her first Christmas since, it’ll be the first time I’ve seen her.”

He grabs your hand and your attention after a moment of silence and his stare is intense. “We’ll be there soon.” He assures you.

12 hours into shift and Matt Casey is as bored as he’s ever been on a Christmas. No calls, no Christmas spirit, and most importantly Christmas dinner was a bust. So, when Severide open his office door, covered in dirt and oil and grime, he was intrigued at least.

“You look like hell.”

Kelly rolls his eyes. “I need to borrow your truck to take Y/N home.”

Casey’s eyes widen. “She’s here?”

Kelly isn’t sure why he seems so excited until he hears him grab almost the entire firehouse to lead them to the floor. To you. Despite his protests, Gabby is positively thrilled. You however, surprisingly, are not overwhelmed by all the greetings and hugs. The environment is so warm and welcoming that you can’t help but slide right into conversations.

“She is gorgeous.” Gabby tries to keep it to a whisper. “Your texts do not do her justice.”

Kelly nods, well aware that just a few words typed while you were focused on the road could never be enough to describe how incredible he believed you to be.

“This isn’t it, right? You’ve got to see her again.” Joe butts his head between Kelly and Gabby. “We already like her.”

The drive to your house is quiet, somber. Not a single sound besides tires crunching through packed snow. There’re so many questions you have unanswered based solely on the fact that you don’t know how to ask them. Staring out into the night sky to watch the snow fall is no longer enough to comfort you.

It isn’t until he pulls up and puts the truck in park that you start to feel the pit in your stomach become overwhelming. You’re worried you’ll never see him again. Worried that the past day will be the final one and that thought is terrifying.

“Stay.” You blurt out.

He’s caught off guard by your request, but still smiles. “My family is back at the station and this is too important for you to be worrying about your parents meeting me.”

Your nod acknowledges that he’s right, but your eyes convey your sadness. “Merry Christmas, Kelly.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“I cannot believe you just let her go!” Matt walks in on Gabby yelling. “You liked that girl, she invited you in, and you left?!” She’s pacing back and forth in front of a freshly showered Kelly. He looks like a puppy in trouble and Matt’s smart enough to know not to butt in.

“That was not a first impression I wanted to make.” He tries to defend himself.

Gabby turns to Matt, exasperated, and he raises his hands.

As if someone were listening to his silent prayers, Capp comes in to tell Kelly that he had a visitor on the floor. His heart began to race, filling with hope that maybe, just maybe…

He rounds the corner and there you are, dressed up with a delicate smile. For a moment he’s breathless, the only thing he wanted to see. He wants to open with something witty, but you beat him to it when you hand him a tupperware container, stepping close enough that he can smell the light layer of perfume you’re wearing.

“This is to thank you for letting me drag you and your luck all over the northern states.”

He laughs. “I believe it was me that refused to leave.”

“And I probably would’ve made the national news for being missing if you hadn’t.” Your smirk makes his heart skip a beat. “You know milk cartons aren’t a thing anymore, right?”

He laughs. “Well, how am I supposed to thank you for pretending to be my wife?” You laugh until you realize he’s being serious. “How about dinner tomorrow night?”

“I would love that.”

When he leans down slowly and presses his lips to yours, you have to laugh at the cheers that erupt from the background.

#kelly severide x reader #Kelly Severide #Chicago Fire #chicago fire imagine #kelly severide imagine #kelly serveride fanfiction #matt casey #gabby dawson #christmas

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Note

I *DEMAND* part 3 of shattered pearl. I repeat. I *DEMAND*.

Hahahahaha omg. Well, I decided to legitimately dig through the archives of my writing drafts and found chapter three of the Peeta-Wasn’t-Hijacked fic. It’s been given like 1,000 different names on different sites. I’ve never loved any of them. And I don’t really think this is my best writing ngl. But I also figure ... why be so stingy, ya know? If I have an incomplete draft, that I probably won’t finish, why not post a little bit? Especially since I literally left everyone and their brother who were reading this fic on a cliffy for over a year.

With that said.... I wrote this part like ... 15 months ago? 14 ? 13 ? Something like that. And I haven’t edited it since so ... yeah! Here’s a small chunk of chapter three! 🥳🥳🥳 Hope it’s better than I remember it being!

But it’s lacking something and it’s only then I realize, what I’m searching for inside Gale’s mouth, is the spark that only Peeta’s ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn’t manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn’t be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale’s demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I’m not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale’s face isn’t even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

I yelled his name as he disappeared down the hall. I tried to rip out all the needles and wires connecting me to the machines and the stiff, sterilized bed but Gale used all his strength to push me down flat. I was overpowered and exhausted and my left side was screaming mercilessly, and I don’t even know what pain was the bruised lung and what pain was my hurt ribs and what pain was my heart violently smashing into the pit of my stomach.

All I know is that if I had been able to reach Peeta before he evaporated, I have no clue what I would have said to him.

What I could have said to make it alright.

Gale tried to talk to me again after that but I entirely tuned him out, no longer caring if I wounded his feelings, or anyone else's for that matter.

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how careful or cautious or preemptive I try to be, someone still got hurt in the end.

I wish I could just shut out the world, like I did during those first few weeks in Thirteen. Hide inside closets when I had a flashback. Shove myself into a minuscule crawl space with every nightmare. Refuse to speak to anyone who wasn't Gale or my family. Only eat when my mother nearly forced me. Show no remorse for how rude or how clinically insane I came across.

But now there was an agreement in place, an agreement I made to protect the victors—namely the one who just disappeared down the hall on me—and the people who had no voice on their own. The people who’s only chance was a half-crazed, shell-shocked, battle worn seventeen year old girl, who was just gunned down on national television.

Even if I wanted to retreat to some safe haven inside my head—if such a thing even existed for me—like Annie Cresta, I knew it could never happen.

For me, that wasn’t an option. If I don’t fulfill my duties to Coin, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and probably countless more people will suffer. The districts would undoubtably suffer. Gale would suffer. My mother and Prim would suffer.

I was proven right when later that same night Plutarch came to visit me again. I'd been lying on my side to avoid having to see Gale, who was still soldered to my bedside. My good side was thankfully opposite his seat.

When the Gamemaker spoke I thought I would be forced back to work. Forced to head back to the rebels and engage in their plans.

And I was resigned to it, well aware all along that I wouldn't be given the luxury of time to grieve the hurt I just caused Peeta. Or even the pain I knew I was inflicting upon Gale. The constant seesaw my heart was bouncing up and down on.

I was endlessly thankful that I was still pumped with morphling when Plutarch said that I was needed in Coin's office, because it heavily suppressed any real emotion I had brewing deep inside.

Morphling can cause you to let down your guard sometimes, make you say or do things you wouldn't otherwise or allow things to happen you'd ordinarily have the sense to stop. But it also causes all your severe emotions, all your heightened feelings, to dull as well. And for that, in light of everything that had just transpired, I was eternally grateful for.

When the doctor had removed all the needles from my arm, and I had been given a robe to go over my hospital gown—which, shockingly, was even uglier and thinner and itchier than the gowns they gave in the Capitol hospitals—Gale escorts me down the halls, through the corridors and to President Coin’s office.

I don’t speak to him the entire time. Looking at him makes my stomach churn with remorse and regret, though I’m not even sure who those feelings are directed towards. I’m not even sure how to articulate the way I feel right now.

And, as much as I try to force him out of my mind—as much as I do my best to rip him out from wherever he crawled beneath my skin and flooded into my veins—I inexplicably miss Peeta.

In more ways than I even know how to decipher. Even inside my own head.

I thought that feeling of longing would have ebbed away once he was rescued from Snow and his twisted mansion, but even knowing he’s safe here in Thirteen, I still crave his presence next to me.

I still want him next to me almost all the time.

It’s at least partially attributable to the fact that for so long, it was me and Peeta against the world. He has been my partner in this whirlwind rollercoaster since the first games and, even when I feel like every single aspect that could potentially go wrong has, sometimes it seems like I couldn’t have gotten luckier with who was chosen that fateful reaping to stand by my side the entire horrific ride.

I wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can but Gale sees and almost instinctively puts his hand on my shoulder. And proves he knows me better than I give him credit for. “I’ll talk to him, Katniss.”

“Don’t,” I immediately hiss. “You’ll just make it worse, Gale. He-he,” I struggle with explaining what I want to say and I curse my best friend for even addressing my moment of weakness because now I have to go talk to Coin, looking like an unstable mess—with a near bullet wound—and I blurt out the very first thing I can think of. “He doesn’t even know you, okay? You’ll just-“

There’s no malice in Gale’s voice as he softly replies, “Well, he was fine when I went and saw him before you woke up.”

I stop now, dead in my tracks. “You saw him? After I was shot?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I felt like should check on him. I know...” He pauses and looks upwards and I recognize, once again, this whole thing isn’t easy for him either. “I know he means a lot to you. And I heard what happened when he saw you go down. So I went and checked in on him...” He stops again before shrugging nonchalantly. “He was calmer by the time I saw him. He was nice. He’s always been nice.” At that Gale rolls his eyes. “Too nice. Probably why Snow wanted to hurt him.”

I start walking again, moving ahead of him a few paces. “You’re not helping,” I state, my voice a monotone.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gale offers again, running to catch up.

“Please don’t, okay? Just let it be. I don’t even know if he’ll speak to me, I don’t want to have to worry about what you’ll say to him.”

I vigorously shake off his hand on my shoulder when he tries to comfort me again, and feel him root into place as I make the rest of the way to Coin’s office.

And I wonder if I hurt him now too.

I wonder if I managed to completely annihilate them both from me in one night.

Much to my surprise and, to be completely honest, my utter disappointment, Coin doesn’t want me to head back out and fight for the rebellion. She doesn’t want me to even film more propos.

Plutarch does, but his ideas now are pretty frivolous and have more to do with him being still stuck in the fantasy of putting on a good show and less to do with fighting for the good of the country.

Coin simply says, “You did your job, Miss Everdeen. You united the districts,” in her calm, disingenuous—completely unsettling—tone.

And argument I put up is met with a simple shake of the head and a pursing of her lips. All indisputable rejections, her cold, blank eyes telling me wordlessly that in no way could I sway her once her mind was made up.

Still doesn’t stop me from trying though.

“I want to help the rebels,” I plead, looking to Boggs behind Coin’s chair, his face still stoic but his eyes giving me a look that isn’t altogether dismissive.

That was something. It was more than I was getting from either Coin or Plutarch.

Coin though brushes off my words and cuts me down infuriatingly quick with a single sentence. “Plutarch wanted to see Peeta earlier, talk about some propos. But when he sent for him, one of the doctors working with Peeta said he wasn’t having a good day.”

Her tone is smooth and pleasant enough but there was an undercurrent to her words that she knew I would hear. “Do you know how Peeta is? I would have thought with your waking up this morning, he’d be in better shape than he was but if you two aren’t getting-“

“Me and Peeta are fine,” I snap, not liking whatever she’s implying.

She nods, slowly at me, choosing her next sentiment carefully. “Well, let’s hope so. We need both of you now to remain the faces of this revolution. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash because of... problems between you and your... between you and Peeta.”

I’m shaking my head, feigning certainty, before she even finishes. “That’s not why I want to help the rebels,” I insist firmly.

“Irregardless, Miss Everdeen, we don’t have a job for you. You aren’t qualified to go into the fight and we no longer need your propos to unite the districts. Your job is done. Thank you for your help.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m being definitively dismissed now. Indefinitely.

I don’t make any effort to keep my cool, instead choosing to storm out of the room, slamming the door cacophonously behind me and wonder why I let that woman get to me so much. Why her words and implications slice me open like a knife.

Why no matter how much I try, I just can’t like her.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way and, once again, I wish Peeta was here with me in the room, because he of all people could understand what about Coin felt off and strange and so familiar.

I curse myself again, as I suddenly miss him even more than before.

Unable to force myself to put my focus elsewhere—especially now that Gale is surely angry too—I change directions and head towards the recovery room.

I don’t even knock before entering. I push the door open, only to find him sitting on top of his bed, a sketchbook in hand, a lot more tranquil than I pictured.

He looks up as I enter—and then, simultaneously freeze in the doorway, like the coward I truly am inside. Before he can speak though, I blurt out, “I know you’re mad about me kissing Gale and I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t exactly...” I stop because once again, I’m unprepared and out of my element and have no rhyme or reason in what I’m trying to say. I don’t know the right thing to say. I never know the right thing to say.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t screw always everything up. “It wasn’t,” I finally force myself to continue, off his patient and somewhat bewildered glance. “It wasn’t what I wanted... I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t, I don’t even know what-“

He finally puts me out of my misery now. “Katniss,” he speaks my name along with a sigh. I watch carefully, feeling a lump build in my throat, as his blonde brows furrow over his baby blues.

He shakes his head, slow and calm. Far more reasonable than I ever anticipated. “I’m not mad at you, Katniss,” he promises, with all the genuineness in the world.

I bite my lip, befuddled by his words. “But... where have you been then?” Why did you leave me? A small voice in the back of my mind demands.

He shrugs, his gaze falling down to his bed now. His demeanor is almost embarrassed, I realize with a start.

“I wanted to give you and Gale space. I’ve been practically mauling you since you woke up so I thought-“

“But I didn’t want you to leave,” I abruptly burst out, unable to shove the words down any longer.

A pang of embarrassment shoots through me though, for the pathetic crack, evident in my tone. And I mentally berate myself.

Not for the embarrassment. For the pathetic crack itself.

And for the fact that somehow I’m the frenzied one here and Peeta is the voice of reason.

Which used to be our norm but after everything that’s transpired, I would have thought things would be reversed by now.

He just stares at me for a long moment, carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he opens his arms slowly and utters, “Come here,” in a tender murmur and I practically fly into his arms before I can second guess the offer.

I feel my injured side screaming as I curl up like a ribbon in his arms, but I surpress the wince to the best of my ability and instead bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like a mad girl.

He softly presses his lips to my messy locks, carefully massaging the back of my head soothingly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispers, barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I was just embarrassed. I know—I’ve always known deep down—that it’s not right for me to constantly hold you to the things you said in the games. Or to project my own feelings onto you.”

“You didn’t,” I refute venomously, my brows knitting together.

“Katniss, I know you and Gale have had something between you for a long time.”

“Gale was just a friend until me and you came back from our first games. Maybe he wanted to be more even before, I don’t know, but I never felt anything romantic for him. I swear.”

“You don’t have to defend your feelings to me,” he states softly.

“I know, it’s just...” I sigh, moving to sit upright across his thighs. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong. If I say I’m confused, you’re both hurting. If I say I want to kiss you or sleep with you or just be with you, I’m leading you on because I can’t-I can’t make any promises about my feelings right now, because I don’t even know up from down anymore. And if I say I do or don’t want to kiss Gale or be around him or hunt with him still, I’m hurting him or giving him the wrong idea or telling him the wrong things, and it all gets confused and there’s an entire rebellion that I’m the face of, and now I don’t even know if I’m a part of that, but Snow and his followers all hate me still so I know family still won’t be safe until this is all over. And you. You and Johanna and Annie went through the ringer over me. And Gale gets upset whenever he sees us together—it hurts him to see us—but I can’t always seperate you two from one another and I just-I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Peeta lets me rant the whole entire spiel out, his hand slowly moving in circles to rub my back, from the top of my spine down to my backside. “Katniss,” he whispers once I’m done. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it. You’re under immense pressure. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you.”

“You’re not,” I say, shaking my head insistently. “You’re not making anything worse, Peeta. It’s-it’s not you.”

“Okay,” he concedes and unconsciously wraps me up tighter in his arms. “Just relax, okay? Relax and breathe.”

I quiver and quake against him. “I don’t think I can.”

I barely realize I’m crying until Peeta leans down to kiss my tearstained cheek softly. “Katniss, it’s okay. I’m not mad. And Gale shouldn’t be. If he is, then that’s on him. The rebellion isn’t just your responsibility. Do not let them put all that weight on your shoulders. I know they already have but it’s not all your responsibility. And no one is going to let anything happen to your mom or sister.” He pushes my hair away from my forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment. “Or you. I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

I swallow hard as he rests his forehead against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that it will make my head stop spinning somehow. Deep breaths to center myself fail miserably and in the end, I feel my bruised ribs and lung disagree with the movement and ache worse than before.

Peeta feels me cringing against him in pain and remains careful as he shifts, reaching for something off his bedside table.

I’m in too much pain to react as pushes off my robe and tugs my hospital gown down in order to slide against my skin, his hand holding it firmly to my side.

The icy temperature brings some sort of relief to me almost instantly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling my rigid body relax even a minuscule amount for the first time.

“I don’t blame you for having feelings for Gale,” Peeta murmurs, drawing my attention back to our conversation and away from my painful left side. “And if you want to be with him, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not going to lie, I’d be ... sad but... it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be at jere for you however you needed me. There’s no ultimatums here, Katniss. I’m still here for you, even if you’d rather be with Gale.”

I pause for a long moment, absorbing his words. He’d be willing to be my friend, even if I hurt him? Even if I chose someone else over him? Even after everything we went through, even after all the ways he’d been abused because Snow could see how much I care for him? How much I need him. He’s still willing to put it all aside and be there for me, no strings attached.

And I try not to compare but my brain draws the conclusion almost involuntarily, and I can’t stop myself from realizing that, in the same position, Gale would likely not be telling me the same thing.

I burrow my face deeper in his shoulder, shutting my eyes in exhaustion.

Peeta catches me off-guard, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck, eliciting a flare of heat in the place where his lips brush my skin, and I may not know exactly how I feel, but I know in that moment exactly what I want right now.

“The only person I want to be with tonight is you,” I whisper honestly, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to somehow understand an emotion I don’t know how to admit. “The only person I want right now is you, Peeta.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #my writing #asks 🦋#everlurked 🌸✨

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silverandsoulbonded · 3 years

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A Life of Stories - Soulbonding and My Story

It’s the late 90’s. A tiny child sits in the grip of wonder on the carpet two feet from the old, analog television screen. The volume is turned way down on a Saturday morning, so as not to wake the parents. And Digimon: Adventure is playing.

That kid was me.

I spent the next several days telling anyone and everyone I knew about the trials and bravery of my favorite new friends on the TV. Taichi and his Digi-pals.

Every Saturday morning I tuned in with wrapped attention to check in on my friends. Because that is what they were. I could not explain it at the time, and looking back I see that I did not understand just how powerful my love for them was, but over the years I began to notice the disparity between my experience and that of others. The glazed looks I received when I tried to communicate just how much the “stories” around me meant to my heart and spirit.

As I grew, so too did my well of worlds. When it was not Digimon, it turned to Batman and the DC Animated Universe. Over the years, as things became harder and harder for me in an unsafe household, I would reach out to those stories for safety and comfort. In the dead of night, listening to shouts, I would silently pray for Batman to come in and save me. I would think about Static, from Static Shock, and his bravery. I would long for the Justice League to show me hope.

I grew up in a conservative Protestant Christian household, and I was quickly taught from the moment I could understand stories that they were not real. It seemed a strange double-standard to me, as we read of Jesus and his amazing feats, recorded centuries ago by the hands of men but somehow “different” than the other stories I consumed, which also taught me and affected me just as emotionally.

It would not be until adulthood that I could finally articulate this incongruity I felt, much less possess the bravery and personal freedom to think about it on my own terms. To set aside the pre-packaged “truth” I had been fed growing up in order to find my own fresh fruits of wisdom and meaning.

Stories. Stories are what sustain humanity. All we have are stories. Even the perceptions we store in our brains are only that. Perceptions. Stories. We can never truly know what an orange is, or who a person is. We only can know our perception of them, and the story of them that lives on within us.

And, sometimes, those stories speak to us in the most fantastic and magical of ways.

Fast forward to 2021.

I am an adult. A practicing witch and pagan. An artist and writer. I am functional and thriving. And I have an unusual family.

Some of the most important people in my life do not exist on the physical plane of this Earth quite the same as other friends of mine. They exist in the subtle realms of Dream and thought and wonder. Over time I have come to find many names for them. Spirits, guides, and “soulbonds”.

I began my foray into the community of “soulbonding” when I began to sense, or rather, acknowledge the living quality of some of the “characters” I was writing about. One character in particular, a being who introduced himself to me in a dream, had me particularly flummoxed. I called him Asura, and from the moment he entered my life through that dream, my entire world changed. It was akin to stepping onto a roller coaster car while it was still moving—except this roller coaster had no track and no limits. His entire presence permeated my life, my thoughts, my daydreams. I wrote about him, and it was my writing about him that led me to thoughts, questions, and explorations I would have never dared otherwise. By finding him, he led me to find myself, and for that I shall be forever grateful.

At some point, I, and even my closest friends, became aware of a “spookiness” about my dogged pursuit of this mysterious character. I started to know things about him and his world, and make connections in his story, that seemed to come out of nowhere but which all cohered together perfectly. Without a fault, I would learn tidbits about him that would suddenly fit with another thing I learned later, though I never had to strain to achieve such things. It was not so much that I was “creating” the story so much as “recording” it. There were elements of his story that overlapped with our world’s history and it was spooky as all get out when I learned about historical facts through his story and later found them to also be reflected in my own world, which has a similar timeline to his. A sort of “sibling world” to his.

We also noticed the tremendous power of my emotional connection to him and his friends. My boyfriend at the time even became jealous of Asura, though I assured him that was absurd. “Asura is just a story,” I would say. And my boyfriend thought the same yet he, and others, seemed unable to ignore the fact that there seemed to be something weird going on.

And, one day, with horror, I realized I was in love with Asura—fortunately, by that time I had since broken up with my boyfriend—but the idea terrified me. Unsurprisingly, this sent a conservative Christian “good kid” such as myself down into a spiral of questions and disbelief.

I felt the imposter syndrome. I thought, “I must be insane.” Yet, no one, myself included, could deny the reality of this connection I felt.

Over time, Asura and his friends began to speak to me. They guided me and provided loving support to me. I, at the time, figured I was either crazy or eccentric.

“Maybe this is a writer thing,” I thought.

And it was that thought that led me to soulbonding. I learned of other writers who also had their “characters” come alive to them. Alice Walker, author of the famed American work, The Color Purple, allegedly purported that she had received her story straight from the characters’ mouths one afternoon, during which she sat down to tea with them and learned their tale. And that is when I found a forum site called “The Living Library” (now defunct), and learned the term “soulbonding”.

In that community I found others who echoed my story in various ways. Deep personal connections to entities from other worlds, many of whom they found depicted in the flourishing ecosystem of thought and imagination, stories, that surrounds the human race. Others, discovered their unconventional friends via dreams, visions, or odd circumstances just like myself. One person I met had actually found one such friend first, in this instance a version of Edward Elric from “Full Metal Alchemist”, before learning years later—with a start I imagine—that Edward actually had an entire manga and anime about him.

I say “version” because another amazing phenomenon I discovered was the occurrence of many instantiations of people, characters, from infinite worlds, all with slight variances from one another. That is when I was introduced to the idea of Multiverse Theory and Many Worlds Theory.

As my personal investigations led me down various spiritual rabbit holes, and eventually led me to spirit-working and witchcraft, I found more and more ideas that seemed to jive with my experience.

I discovered what are colloquially called “pop pantheons” in occult circles. Pantheons of spirits and deities who connect to pop culture figures in human society—and even figures from “fiction”. And there is a whole, thriving community of people who lead successful, fulfilled, and meaningful spiritual lives working with these entities. I learned that reality and “truth” are not objective like I had been taught so long ago. And I finally understood MY truth—all we have are myths and stories. Experience is subjective and the only measure of meaning and truth we have is in the effects we see in our own lives.

With tremendous wonder and happiness, and even love, I have seen the effects my unconventional friends and family have wrought in my life. Asura is my familiar spirit now, and I have a whole host of other beings whom I love. Some come from “personal gnosis”, or unique experience, such as Asura. Others are beings who have come to me from the vast world of collective Dreaming that permeates our world, evident in media sources, in the form of stories.

I still have moments of doubt. I sometimes wonder, “Gee-golly-whiz, am I NUTS?” But then I remember that my truth exists only in my own experience. My ethereal family brings me happiness, growth, and meaning. And there really is no difference between my relationship with them and the relationship I had with Jesus so long ago. Every experience is real to me, and brings with it change and good. And that is what matters.

In this blog I intend to share my experience, in hopes that it can offer a beacon to others in similar situations. Every person’s experience is unique, though I hope mine can at least offer some hope, understanding, and love to another.

Cheers.

And happy story-telling.

- Cosmic

#soulbond #soulbonding #spirituality #spirits #spirit-work #spirit #stories #writer #writing #poppantheon #pop pantheons #occult spirituality #witch #spiritworker #spirit work #my story #my post #SILVERfamily

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littlespoonevan · 4 years

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listen!!! ian/mickey/mandy was my original brot3 i had to bring her back!!!!! i hope you like it, bud :D <3

Mandy never used to believe that Ian and Mickey would last.

To be fair, the day she found out was also the day their relationship reached its first real breaking point. (Though a part of her remembers not feeling shocked at all, all the pieces – Ian seeing someone he refused to name, Ian overly concerned about Mickey’s wedding, Mickey always conveniently showing up whenever she and Ian were hanging out – suddenly falling into place.)

And she’d taken Ian’s side because- well, as far as she could see Mickey was fucking Ian over just so he could stay in the closet. She’d been wrong, obviously, though no one’s ever actually told her that directly. But there were enough context clues for her to more or less figure out what had happened – especially after the night of Yevgeny’s christening.

So she’d found out about them and she’d been around them and she knew, deep down, they loved each other. But to her it had always seemed like a doomed sort of love. In the way that love tends to be if you’re a Milkovich or a Gallagher.

She’d watched for about a year and a half as they’d clung to each other, desperately trying to make it work despite the world throwing every fucking problem it possibly could at them. And then one day it ended and she wasn’t in Chicago anymore and she still wishes she could’ve said she was surprised when she heard the news.

Time passed after that and she didn’t really talk much to either them but she hoped they’d move on. At least, she knew Ian was trying.

Then one day she’d gotten a phonecall from Beckman Correctional and Mickey was on the other line. (She’d known he’d escaped prison the first time – the cops had come knocking on her door too.) And it was strange talking to him after so long but nice too. In its own way. She’d nearly dropped the phone when he told her Ian was his cellmate.

(She’d heard about that too – Gay Jesus could still reach her even in Boston.)

After that Mickey started using his weekly phonecall to call her while Ian, with a much longer laundry list of relatives, started calling her once a month. It had been the most she’d spoken to either of them in years but she liked it – it made her feel connected to someone again, like her family hadn’t been totally obliterated.

She hadn’t planned on missing the wedding.

But part of getting her shit together meant not flaking on work responsibilities and she’d been roped into securing some account in Toronto with her boss and couldn’t get out of it. She’d managed to score a long weekend off a few weeks later though and promised she’d come visit then which had seemed to be enough to appease them both.

That’s how she finds herself standing on the steps of the Gallagher house on a Friday in February with an overnight bag on her shoulder.

Ian had insisted there’d be plenty of room for her here but she’ll believe that when she sees it. There’s always more people than there should be in this house. She hesitates for a moment, considering knocking but then feeling weird for even thinking it. No one knocks on the door to the Gallagher house. Testing the handle, she finds it unlocked and gently pushes it open.

The house is a lot quieter than it used to be and it throws her for a loop for a moment before she hears voices in the kitchen.

She steps further into the living room, pausing by the back of the couch when she catches sight of Ian and Mickey through the kitchen door. They’re…doing dishes. She thinks.

More specifically, they’re laughing as Ian replaces the glasses in the cabinet and Mickey idly spins a dishtowel in his hand.

“You’re so full of shit!” Mickey’s saying and the size of his grin momentarily leaves Mandy dumbstruck. She can’t even remember the last time Mickey smiled like that. Looking so…content and at ease and happy in own skin.

“I swear to god!” Ian exclaims, turning away from the cabinets and giving Mandy a clear view of the mischievous expression on his face as he holds in a laugh. “The guy’s dick was fuckin’ purple. Nastiest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Mickey makes a face before dropping the towel on the counter and taking the two steps it takes to put himself in Ian’s path. He cups Ian’s face between his hands and says, very solemnly, “You ever break my dick when we’re having sex and I’ll break your neck.”

Ian barks out a laugh and Mandy has to quickly bite her lip to stop a snort of her own as she watches Ian’s hands fit to her brother’s waist. “Pretty sure I’m the one who needs to worry about that,” he points out, expression light and amused as he quirks an eyebrow at Mickey’s reply.

He says it too quietly for Mandy to hear but whatever it is they’re kissing hardly a second later. She considers clearing her throat to make her presence known then because she knows what happens when Ian and Mickey start kissing when they’ve got the house to themselves but they break apart after a few seconds with matching grins. Ian looks up absentmindedly and his eyes land on her, his grin freezing on his face.

“Mandy!” he says, surprise and excitement colouring his voice. He lets his hands fall from Mickey’s waist just as Mickey turns to look at her.

She only has the briefest moment to share a look with him before Ian’s bounding over and sweeping her into a hug. “Hey,” he breathes, squeezing her tight. “Sorry, we didn’t hear you come in.”

Mandy hugs him back and instantly feels herself calm. Ian’s presence has always been comforting. She still remembers stealing whatever bit of affection she could from him when they were teenagers. When he dutifully let her call him her boyfriend even after it became very clear that was never gonna happen.

“It’s okay,” she says on a laugh. “You two looked busy.”

Ian leans back with a bashful expression, squeezing her shoulders before stepping out of the way so she can say hi to Mickey. There’s a single second where they both flounder as they stare at each other before Mickey’s pulling her into a hug and letting out a soft, “Hey.”

She doesn’t expect it but as she wraps her arms around Mickey’s shoulders she can’t help the feeling of déjà-vu that hits her, thinking back to the day she and Ian went to pick Mickey up from juvie. It’s a similar hug, light and familiar and comfortable, and it makes her smile.

In a lot of ways, they used to be normal siblings. They’d been the closest in age out of all their siblings and as the two youngest they sort of naturally fell into that dynamic of driving each other insane while also being willing to defend each other to the death.

Things got more complicated as they got older. Their words becoming sharper sometimes, their inability to help each other like they used to suddenly paralysing them both and making it difficult to know how to interact.

But this feels like before.

Mickey messes up her hair when she pulls away and, inexplicably, it makes a lump form in her throat. Fuck, it’s been so long since they could just joke with each other. But Mandy hasn’t had bruises on her face for years and Mickey has a wedding ring on his finger that he actually wants so maybe it’s time they can get back to that.

“You kept the blonde, huh?” Mickey says when he steps back and Mandy lifts her chin in a haughty smirk.

“Anything to stop people from saying I look like your ugly mug,” she retorts, slipping back into an old banter that comes to her without even thinking about it.

“Bitch,” Mickey grumbles but he’s smiling like he’s amused.

Ian’s hand lands on Mickey’s shoulder before his other reaches for Mandy. “Mands, drop your bag. We can talk in the kitchen.”

Mandy does as she’s told, letting Ian shepherd them both into the kitchen. She tries not to smirk at the fact Mickey doesn’t shrug Ian off this time, electing instead to wind his own arm around Ian’s waist.

They sit at the kitchen table as Ian goes to the fridge to inspect its contents. “You want a drink?” he asks over his shoulder. “We’ve got beer, milk, orange juice, soda, coffee-“

“Coffee sounds good,” she says. The flight hadn’t been all that long but travelling always wears her out a little.

“Mick?” Ian asks and Mickey considers him for just a second before saying, “Make one for me too.”

Mandy raises an eyebrow at him and he ducks his head, looking embarrassed. “’m tryna stop drinking beer before five o’clock.”

The laugh that comes out of her is a little disbelieving but she’s impressed. It’s rare to see Mickey actively trying to take care of himself.

Ian sets the coffee pot going and there’s a sort of awkward pause where none of them quite know what to say before she finally decides on the safest topic. “So tell me about the wedding.”

Mickey scoffs at the same time Ian laughs and she looks between them until Mickey says, “Long version or short version?”

And is that even a question. “Long,” she says decisively.

As Ian returns to the table with their coffees they regale her with the complicated events leading up to their wedding ceremony – including her dad burning their fucking venue down.

“Have you heard from him since?” she asks, feeling an old anxiety twist around her spine. She can’t say she’s missed Terry Milkovich since she’s been gone.

“Not since he shot up our fuckin’ honeymoon suite,” Mickey mutters and Mandy feels a pang of sympathy for them. It’s about fucking time the two of them just got to be happy with no strings attached.

Before she can say anything though Ian’s hand reaches out to grasp Mickey’s on the table-top and Mickey offers him a small, grateful smile. And it’s these little moments that keep shocking her, really. The causal ways they touch each other or look at each other. The way they keep picking up each other’s sentences as they tell the wedding story.

Everything about their relationship before had felt so life or death, these moments of just being were few and far between.

Eventually the conversation about the wedding winds down and Ian asks her about her job and it’s weird, the three of them having such a grown-up conversation, but every second word out of Mickey’s mouth is still “fuck” and Ian’s still got that puppy-dog grin he used to wear when he was fifteen so maybe things haven’t changed all that much.

Ian gets up when Liam comes home from school, following him up the stairs to help him move whatever he needs out of his bedroom and into Carl’s while Mandy stays over since, “Liam’s room is definitely the cleanest,” and Mandy watches Mickey watch Ian, a soft smile on his lips as he stares after Ian until he’s out of sight.

Mickey’s gaze returns to the table then but the smile is still there. After a second or two of silence Mandy kicks his leg under the table. Mickey’s gaze snaps up to stare at her. “What?”

She feels herself start to smile without actually planning to. “You’re really fucking happy now, huh?”

Mickey’s face goes blank with surprise before that bashful twist to his mouth comes back and he averts his gaze, shrugging once. “I guess.”

“Oh, you guess!” she scoffs, kicking him again. “Jesus Christ, Ian’s dick can’t be that great.”

Mickey smirks then. “Jealous you never got to find out for yourself?”

“Shut up, asshole,” she huffs, laughing in spite of herself. “I’m being serious.”

Mickey makes an incredulous noise and Mandy clears her throat, forcing herself to be sincere. “I mean it, Mick,” she says and his expression smooths out at the earnestness in her voice. “You two really figured shit out.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything for a moment before he breathes out a soft laugh. “I mean it was about fuckin’ time.”

Mandy grins. “No arguments there.”

Mickey looks like he’s about to say more when Ian’s footsteps suddenly sound on the staircase again. “What are you two talking about?” he asks, jogging down the last few steps.

“Just about how Mandy’s still jealous you had sex with me and not her,” Mickey says casually and Mandy lets out a choked noise, reaching over and punching Mickey’s arm as hard as she can.

Ian’s laughing as he comes to stand behind Mickey, hands settling on Mickey’s shoulders like they belong there and Mickey looks from him to Mandy with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t worry, Mands,” Ian says. “You got to call me your boyfriend first.”

“Ey!” Mickey calls out, affronted, and Ian grins down at him, eyebrows raised in an, Am I wrong? look.

And Mandy’s just- she’s relieved, more than anything. Because they fucking deserve this – all three of them do. They deserve to be able joke about the good shit in their past in the safety of a present that isn’t threatening to take away their future. They deserve some fucking peace of mind.

And as she watches Ian lean down to kiss the top of Mickey’s head before he returns to his seat at the table she thinks it’s probably time to rethink her stance on whether or not Mickey and Ian are going to make it.

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mandy milkovich #shameless #my fics

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

Text

Apologies & Logistics

This is the end of the “Humans Adopt a Combat SecUnit” story, or at least this part of it.

Jae

I had expected the governor to fry my organic neural tissue for disobeying a direct order, but it had merely immobilized and disabled me. I couldn’t move or see, but my hearing continued to function normally. It was a non-optimal outcome but still significantly better than my initial predictions.

In my ear, Serenity provided a running commentary of ongoing events. I felt like an oddly captive audience to a ship that suddenly eager for conversation, no matter how one-sided. And it had a variety of opinions on topics ranging from the Corporation Rim to cargo haulers, handlers, and the intricacies of wormhole travel. I wasn’t bored.

Meanwhile, external voices came and went.

I heard Cass leave the control room moments later with a squeaky gurney that could have used some grease in her wake. Kris’s booming voice echoed on the bridge while he negotiated docking procedures with one of the incoming rescue vessels. He notified them about the rescued corporate higher-up but failed to mention my existence. I suspected either they would dispose of me or steal me. My risk assessment module deemed the former option unlikely, given my handler’s determination in reversing the governor’s freeze command.

Presumably, I was still on the inventory lists of the security and tactical support company that owned me, and the humans would need to make me disappear in order to leave the sector.

“I’m not sure you can hear me.” Kris’s voice was suddenly close enough that I thought he might be sitting on the floor next to me. “And I’m not sure which option is better, honestly. I hope you’re not just trapped in there until Cass figures out how to fix this. But if you can hear me, I want you to know that I’m grateful. You protected my best friend when I couldn’t, and that means a lot to me.”

The human’s voice trailed off for a moment before picking up again. “Anyway, we’re going to finish this cargo run, but before we do, we’ll meet with a friend of mine who, uh, locates documents that don’t strictly exist and formally assign your ownership to Cass. Just in case.”

More silence. Human processing time is slow, but this was different. “Deity, it hurts to even say that. I really hope you’re not hearing this.”

Meanwhile, Serenity explained, “What Kris is referring to is a forger or a fixer. Probably one of Kris’ friends from his university days.”

The human kept talking. “I’m sorry about calling you a bot. You’re obviously not, and right now, I’m fucking hating the rules that say otherwise.”

I didn’t understand the human’s concerns; to me, the facts remained immutable. I was property, and if I belonged to this crew in a legal sense, they wouldn’t be stopped by Port Authority wherever they went next. If I could speak, I would’ve recommended that exact course of action.

A moment later, Cass returned from the medical room. I could hear her light footsteps as she moved around the bridge, and Serenity gave me an excellent overview of what the human was doing. My handler’s voice was gentle when she said, “All right, let’s take care of Jae. How’re you holding up, SecUnit?” I could hear someone unspooling a cable. “Ready, Sere?”

“Of course,” the ship answered in its mechanical tone.

I recorded a brief but frantic burst of activity between myself, my handler, and the ship that was mediating between us. Cass wanted to disable my governor permanently, but there was no practical way to do so without access to a Combat SecUnit manual, which we didn’t have. She implemented perhaps the next best thing — the module would no longer react or take action without my handler’s explicit permission.

Then Cass overrode my governor’s freeze command, and I could move again.

I opened my eyes to find Cass staring at me with a worried expression on her tired face. Serenity reconnected me to the feed, so I reached up and removed the feed interface from my ear. Now the ship could bother me anytime it wanted.

“How are you feeling?” my human asked nervously.

Better than initially anticipated. I’d added the sentence to my buffer once I’d understood what Cass was asking. It was becoming easier to modify the buffer with each attempt.

“You weren’t expecting to survive that, were you?” The human sounded suspicious.

I shrugged.

“Don’t ever do anything that stupid again! That’s not an order, Jae. This is me telling you that we like you alive and safe, and I want you to consider your own well-being when deciding how to best handle a situation.”

Understood, Cass.

I sat up, and the woman hugged me with probably all the force she could muster. I… I didn’t mind it. At all

***

Kris

The rescue ship that finally docked with Serenity was a small patrol vessel that belonged to the station's towing company. I was pretty confident that the warship would not need a tow at this point — there wasn't enough of it left out there to warrant cleanup operations. Since I had performed the rescue spacewalk and had gotten injured, a company representative took my statement first. Te pulled out a display surface and took down notes, presumably so ter corporation could figure out who to bill for the unnecessary services.

While Cass and I dealt with the tercera and the legal bullshit in this sector, Serenity edited the video and audio of my spacewalk to make it look like Jae had been destroyed by one of the weapon-wielding bots. In my report, I noted that we had a Combat SecUnit on board at one time, but it had suffered catastrophic damage during the rescue operations. When prompted, I mentioned that we'd put what remained into the recycler.

It was a bald-faced lie, but the bored and cranky representative seemed entirely disinterested. Te didn't even review the video before signing off on the documents, didn't ask for any logs, and performed only a cursory examination of the unconscious corporate employee still in our medical suite. For a small fee, te even offered to take the woman back to the station so we could be on our way quicker. Frankly, I wanted nothing more than to be rid of the human.

Cass had other ideas.

She and I huddled in the mess while the representative returned to ter ship to finish scanning the debris field. Te grumbled that billing back damages on an infiltration attempt would be a nightmarish hell of solicitors from the owner company and wasn't motivated to make anything easy for them.

"What if she tells someone?" Cass demanded after the tercera had departed.

I sipped my coffee and shrugged. "It's going to be a he-said-she-said between the corporate and the station."

"No, I mean later, when Tatiana returns to work minus a construct."

"They'll probably deduct its cost from her salary and demote her. The company cares about profit margins. And she won't be able to prove anything anyway since I destroyed her interface."

The captain looked unconvinced. She paced the room, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair in a nervous gesture. "I don't know…"

"Cass, we are literally stealing one of the most dangerous weapons in the Rim. I think we have bigger problems than one pissed corporate." I tried not to sound patronizing, but it was a struggle. "We absolutely can't take her with us."

"What if we could change her mind? About Jae."

I tried not to spit out my coffee and almost succeeded. The smell of coffee in my nostrils was unbearable. "I don't think so, love. If she doesn't think it's a person now, after working with it for the entirety of its life, what are the odds that we can say anything to change her mind?"

Cass sighed and stopped pacing. "Yeah, you're right. I just…"

"I know. You want to do the right thing. But at this point, absconding with our new friend is probably the best we can manage."

"Yeah." She still sounded reluctant. "Maybe I can reach out to Mom's friend and see if she can help somehow."

I glanced at her dubiously. "You sure you want to talk to Dr. Mensah? Didn't you say she was a councilperson or something?"

I knew pitifully little about Cass's home planet because she never spoke of it. It was a freehold planet unaffiliated with any corporate entities where people were apparently nice to each other. At one time, she'd mentioned growing up on a farm alongside a large extended family, but the story always ended with her leaving home as soon as she was old enough to make her own way in the world. That her mother knew one of the Preservation Alliance leaders reminded me that Cass had connections, even if she chose to do everything on her own, all the time.

"She was until she retired a couple of years ago, I think. I haven't been back in a while, and I barely talk to move. I definitely don't keep track of her friends." She scratched at a scab on her arm. "I remember a news burst that Mensah rescued a SecUnit, but that was..." She frowned. "Well, long enough ago that I completely forgot about it until just now."

I cleaned up the mess I'd made on the table with the coffee. "We're sending the crazy corporate goon back with the tercera. And if you want to call your parent, that's up to you. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

"Says the guy that doesn't speak to his parents."

I stiffened and then remembered that Cass had no idea why I avoided my family. "My parents still believe I'm female. I'm not willing to add jack shit to that conversation."

The captain looked at me with the same warmth that had initially convinced me to join her crew. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry, Kris. I didn't realize your parents were idiots."

That made me grin. "Idiocy is a nice way of putting it, love. I used some stronger words last time I saw them." I got up and wrapped an arm around Cass's thin shoulders. "Come, let's go see about finishing this transaction and getting the hell out of here. I bet Jae is bored sitting in its cabin."

"It's recharging," Cass told me, another reminder that she knew what the SecUnit was doing at all times. "But yeah, let's go. Enough insanity for one day."

The End!

I don’t know where the characters go from here. I have some ideas but maybe that’s a story for a different time.

I wanted to tell a story about stealing a CSU and there it is. And CSU in this case is a complete sweetheart, so. :)

#murderbot #ao3 #fanfiction #adopted #combat secunit

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397bartonstreet · 4 years

Text

Is it Weird I Kind of Want to Kiss You?

This is my submission for the b99 summer fic exchange 2020! This fic is for @letsperaltiago, I really hope you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing it! Also thank you @theysayweareasleep for helping me out with this i couldnt have done it without you. And thank you to @b99fandomevents for holding this exchange, I was happy to be apart of it.

read on ao3

The whole squad had officially retired about an hour earlier. It was a relief to be able to let loose after a hard day of many failures from a case. The mugginess of the bar, under the dim lights, the shouts from the tables behind them, felt like the perfect way to unwind. Leaving Amy with Jake to clink together one more glass of whiskey before turning in for the night. At this point, the alcohol and infectious energy of the place have relaxed their tense shoulders and they can now just enjoy each other’s company. Even if it’s only just the two of them.

Amy clutches her stomach as the last remnants of her laughing fit fade away. Releasing her unconscious hold of Jake’s wrist so he can wipe the tear leaking from his eye, and he comes back to earth with a few chuckles.

“Okay, no, but really, some people can just be the dumbest people in the entire world,” Amy says through catching her breath. She pulls the rest of her hair down as it’s already coming undone, but doesn’t bother fixing her skewed blazer.

“Hey, let’s be honest, maybe they’re not as dumb as their moments. Like I’m pretty damn sure you and I have had many a moments dumb in past,” Jake stumbles to say and Amy has to resist patting down the curls that have stood to one side.

“God, don’t remind me, and it’s always you,” Amy points accusingly. Jake gasps and slaps her hand away.

“Noooo,” Jake petulantly says before chugging the last of his drink. She can barely remember what number drink that is, since she’s had the same amount he has. She quickly places her finger back in his face.

“It’s always you who makes me do the dumbest crap in the whole world!”

“Don’t even lie,” he bangs his fist on the table and doesn’t resist the giddy, drunken laugh that comes out of him. And it’s so infectious, his energy and the way his smile makes his eyes all squinty.

“I am not lying! You always make me look like an idiot!”

“You do that yourself,” he playfully scoffs.

“Right, do you remember the date,” Amy says, punching him on the shoulder. Jake pauses, mouth agape and eyes squinted. The cogs are definitely turning in there, like it does about once a day before it shuts down and let’s his body take over.

“To be fair, that technically was your fault, if you had just tried being actually a good detective-

“Ohhh, don’t-,” Amy throws her head back.

“Then maybe you would actually have won,” he teases.

“Don’t even start, we were at the same place you got lucky,” her volume rising to overshadow his.

“I did get lucky, I got a date with Lamey Santiagoooo.” He tries to take another sip from his glass and frowns when it turns up empty.

“And it was the fucking best day of your life.” Jake gasps and looks around, lips pursed in suppressed laughter.

“Oh my god, Amy Santiago is cursing. She’s cursing!” He yells out to the rest of the bar. Amy notices the bartender throwing them a warning glance. She places her hands on his arm and shakes him a little.

“Shut up,” she grits through her teeth, but she really can’t even pretend to be serious right now, with the alcohol still coursing, and even feels like it might be a tad worse. “You’re an actual child.”

“Childsayswhat?” She rolls her eyes. That wasn’t even funny back when she was twelve years old.

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Ha, that’s because you’re a nerd.”

“Well, you’re a loser.”

“Actually, you’re the loser, I won the bet,” he grins and Amy groans up at the ceiling. She tips into her mouth the last of her drink and lets it puff out her cheeks. Behind her, a group yells among themselves and she realizes just how alone her and Jake are. It’s not the first time they’ve gotten drinks together, or have been left alone after the squad leaves them for the night.

But ever since everything that’s happened. Teddy. Sofia. Dumb feelings and stupid declarations. Things feel different, something feels inevitable. Like at any moment, something unknown and unsaid can ruin the set rhythm between them.

But no, she shouldn’t let that ruin things right now. Things are good, they’re great, they’re-

“Do you want to know that this means Amy?” Jake asks, catching himself from swaying just a little.

“Hm,” she asks.

“This means,” he stops to let the pause linger. “that you and I are at the start of an awful relationship.”

“Oh really,” she says. He’s joking, and they’re drunk. She certainly feels drunk, which is probably why she’s letting herself remember the unspoken issues between them. It’s definitely why she’s letting herself remember the unspoken issues between them. It’s just a joke. And it’s not an uncommon occurrence to have people in your life you wouldn’t mind kissing. Or touching. Or other things.

“Yup, we’re at the start of a lifelong terrible relationship that of loservilleness.”

“Ha! So you admit you’re a loser.”

“Amy Santiago, when you take a step back to rediscover the world, you will realize that we all, as one people, are losers.”

“You’re lucky that mostly made sense.”

“Heck yeah it did. Anyway, back to what I was saying, you and I are about to live a terrible life together. We’re going to framed for a heinous crime we did not commit-”

“Why.”

“Because.”

“Alright,” she says with a shake of her head at his antics.

It’s a joke, it’s just a joke.

“We’re going to marry at the Chapel near the rat infested Walmart.”

“Okay,” she nods with mock seriousness.

“After we wed, we run away as outlaws to Montana, change our names to Bucky and Birdie-”

“I call Birdie!”

“And we have a son named McClane.” Amy looks at him with an exasperated look, and he can barely contain the mischievous look spreading on his face.

“Jake, that's a terrible name.”

“You’re a terrible name!” She wouldn’t be surprised if he actually did try to name their child McClane, he… really loves that movie. But, it’s endearing really, that there’s something he connects to and loves. She likes the way he unapologetically loves.

She taps her chin since he’s staring at her intently for a response.

“McClane…,” she mumbles to herself. “ooh, you know what? McClane might not be an awful name. If you really think about it, it can also sound like a name for a librarian.” She knows she’s hit a button. He cackles and drops his head into his hands. He turns and glances at her with annoyance, he almost looks impressed.

“Why do you always ruin things that are fun,” he says, tapping her shin lightly with his f. She’s definitely drunk, because even that felt charged. Felt intentional. But she’s just drunk.

“Do you want our son to be named McClane or not?” She says, tapping his shin back. It’s fine if she does, they’re friends.

“Fine, but I’ll find something to ruin for you.”

“I’m solid as a rock honey, you can’t move me.” Jake raises an eyebrow and smirks. He doesn’t break eye contact when he holds out two fingers and gives her shoulder a firm shove. A stupid squeal escapes her throat as she stumbles off the stool she’s sitting on and lands on her ass.

“Ok, I think that means it's time to go.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. She holds out her hand for him to help her up. “Walk me?”

Amy’s relieved that she can still mostly walk in a straight line. It isn’t until Jake bumps into her that they start to stumble a little.

New York is not as busy tonight as it usually is, and she likes the clear path they get to walk in without many obstacles. They gag and skitter around the giant dead rat on the ground, and they have to cover their nose when the worst smell NY has ever produced punches them in the face. Other than that, they’re not bothered and she’s grateful for the cold night air after hours in the hot bar.

And they haven’t stopped talking since leaving the bar. About the episode of West Wing last night, the bruise Jake got from tripping over Charles’ box of jars of something, Amy’s annoying brother David and the picture of his new car he’d sent to the sibling group chat.

She thinks Jake is the only person she gets like this with; loud, talkative, and rowdy. It’s the best, and she loves these moments with her best friend.

“You’re not even ready, Bucky would romance the hell out of you,” he says, poking her lightly in the side.

“Really? Coming from the world’s cheapest date?”

“I’ve gotten no complaints.”

“You’ve gotten many complaints!”

“Not from Birdie.”

“Fair,” she says.

“I would drive you absolutely insane with my respect for your boundaries. Make you miserable by unconditionally supporting your ambitions,” he says and Amy wrinkles her nose.

“Sounds horrendous.”

“Yup. You’d make me sleep on the couch with how much I get along with your family.”

“Disgusting,” she says. To be fair, she probably would send him to the couch if she caught him having a nice conversation with David. No way will she let David make her husband think he was better than her. In high school, one of her boyfriends left her to pursue her amazing brother. She’s never letting that happen again.

“David?” he asks.

“David,” she assents. But she’s already ranted about him once today and she doesn’t want to break the Only One Rant About David a Day rule she’s set for herself. “I would pay attention to your interests and actively listen when you speak.”

“That’s just low,” his voice is guttural when he says that and she curses her attraction to deep voices. She clears her throat.

“Buy you intimate gifts from the heart and remind you of my appreciation of your existence every single day,” she says. His hand swaying beside hers lightly brushes against hers, and he continues the conversation like it didn’t happen. He probably didn’t care, maybe he really doesn’t care anymore.

“Did Teddy do that?” he asks.

“Never missed a day,” she says.

“Gross, how did you manage,” he barely gets the word out before his foot catches on the edge of a fire hydrant. He releases an ‘oof’ and grabs onto her hand to catch his balance. She’s way too inebriated to catch him, she goes tumbling along with him. She just barely manages to settle herself whereas he goes flat on the floor.

“Woah, are you okay,” she says, the laugh she makes is almost a cackle. When he looks up at her, his face is red and he can barely breathe with the force of the laughter that shakes his shoulders. She tries to pull him up, grabbing him by the arm and making a feeble attempt to carry him back up. It just barely works, with more fumbling and swaying involved.

“Just like this, I’d support you in all aspects of life,” she teases, helping to steady him on his feet.

“Even if, in our hanky town in Montana-

“Hanky?”

“I get arrested for assault when someone tries to take the last jar of mayo?”

“Especially then,” she says. It suddenly hits her that her hands are still on his arms, she still has him less than a foot away. He’s so close, way closer than she expected him to be. Despite many years of them working together, on all those stakeouts and nights slaving over case files and evidence, she’s never had him this close. His crooked smile is still there, still goofy and sweet, but it’s changed from what it was a second ago. It’s shy, almost hesitant, surveying something on her face and she wants so badly to know what it means.

“This doesn’t sound like the worst relationship ever you know,” Jake says and she almost startles when she feels more than sees a hand reaching up to her face, lightly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. So slight and imperceptible that he might have just been taking something out of her hair. But that’s not the thing that strikes her the most. It’s the look on his face. She’s seen it before, from Teddy, her college boyfriend, the hotdog vendor at the stand near Shake Shack. But never Jake.

This look seeps low into her stomach and expands into her chest. There’s an overwhelming pang that she wants to chase for miles, just to see where it takes her. She says, “Maybe not.”

It comes out softer than she means it to. It makes what should have been a joke… something else. That inevitable thing.

Even this stupid life together that they just made up right now, she’s never been able to joke like that with anyone else, never been able to imagine that with them. But with him, maybe it’s just the alcohol she’s probably had too much of, it’s not so ridiculous.

“Is it weird I kind of want to kiss you right now?” he says softly. She’s officially lost. Lost on him and in this moment. It’s so inevitable, it’s so close.

“Is it weird I kind of want you to?”

Her hands tighten on him, and there’s a moment of bated breath. She almost hates the giddiness she feels bubbling up within. It’s like gravity to just lean forward… and embrace their inevitable.

They’re shaken when a loud horn of a truck breaks the silence as it drives past them. It’s like they’re yanked apart by their surprise and Amy puts a hand on her chest to settle her beating heart. She looks over at Jake. His eyes are wide and no longer glittering the way they were a second ago. The moment is gone.

“Dammit New York,” Jake says, avoiding her eyes by looking in the direction the truck had left. When he looks back, his eyes are still kind of glazed over from their drinks. She’s sure hers are the same. Their drinks have led to silly jokes and wild fantasies. To whatever the hell that was.

To Jake’s next brilliant observation.

“Holy shit, is that a Baskin Robbins?”

“Oooooh,” she says with a gasp. He grabs her arm and they run in the direction of the shop.

#b99 #peraltiago #b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #my writing #my fic

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itsmeyadig · 4 years

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Message for Taylor 💛

Dear @taylorswift,

Hi, my name is Dustin. This is the most raw and vulnerable post I have ever written but because you have always bared your heart and soul to me I thought I could try to do the same for you. I apologize in advance if it comes out less than eloquent. The past two years have been the most soul crippling time of my life. I first lost my Mom, then during quarantine, I lost my Dad too. I was their only child and we were inexplicably bonded to each other. We would always say that we were “the soul triplets”. I treaded a sea of overwhelming and all consuming love from them both all of my life. I never once not even for a fleeting millisecond felt any negativity from them. They shielded me and protected me from all of the ugly in the world. I lived in this perfectly sealed bubble of love and acceptance. They weren’t just my everything. They were me. We were one. They were all of the most beautiful moments of my life magnified by an infinite number. They were all of the wondrous and magnificent things that make life worth it and our adoration for each other transcended time and space. My life with them would be what I imagine being a baby is like. Always safe and warm and surrounded by enrapturing love and blinding happiness. It was a taste of heaven. The closest we could get to on earth. My Mom and Dad were my strength. They were my faith. They were my soul. Life feels utterly meaningless without them. They were the only ones who ever truly loved me with every fiber of their beings and beyond. They never judged me, never forsook me, never turned their backs on me and never had a negative thing to say to me. We never fought. We only had love. We loved fiercely and unwaveringly. Our bond was incomprehensible and impenetrable. People would always say “I don’t know what Dustin is going to do when he loses his Mom or Dad!” And now I’ve lost them both. Everyone knew how infinitely strong our connection was. My Mom and Dad and I would talk about how our relationship was unlike any others and how our souls were unbreakably linked. I was my Mom and Dad’s whole entire world. I was their whole lives and they were mine. They would always call me their their miracle baby because it took them 17 years to have me and their angel child cause I was always so good to them but it paled in comparison to how good they were to me. When you lose both of your soul mates and you faithfully shared all of yourself with them, all that’s left is a shell. I’m just floating into one unrecognizable day to the next. They were my everything. They were the only real and true thing in my life. I told them so many times that when they died I would die too. A mind and heart can only take so much. I lost my livelihood, well being, and spirit. I lost the only true loves I will ever know. However, with all of this said I am so lucky to have known a kind of love that makes the human experience so remarkably worthwhile. I got to grow up with the best representation that is humanly possible of what a marriage should be. The love the best poets and songwriters, like you, write about. We always drew parallels with “The Notebook” and their relationship but their union made it feel vapid in comparison. True heartbreaking love. They were my angels. They sincerely and wholeheartedly loved everyone. Their love was an unchanging constant. They continuously prayed for me, family and friends and their family and friends and the world. They would walk around all day and night whispering prayers under their breath for everyone. They blessed countless lives. They were a rock to everyone that knew them and they were my mountain and my life force. They led by example and their love lifted masses of people, just like you. Even through all of this despondency, debilitating and mind numbing grief you and your music has pulled me through. I will never forget the night my Dad and I went shopping and as usual he told me to choose any CD I wanted. While browsing, a charming blonde curly haired country girl named Taylor Swift caught my eye and that’s where our beautiful fifteen year long journey together began. We listened to your debut on repeat the whole hour long trip back home. We even sat in the car for hours after getting home singing, bonding and crying together. It’s a memory among countless others that I’ll always carry with me and that’s all thanks to you. All of the road trips to concerts, the vacations, the late nights, the bonfires, the pool parties etc., were all shared with you. You and your music are one of the infinite invisible strings tying my parents and I together. I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my broken heart for being the sliver of healing light that I’ve so desperately needed to see in this black hole of anguish. You have truly been the sole constant in my life that keeps my heart beating and the lighthouse beaconing me to persevere. If you ever have a bad day just know you are changing lives every day. I am so unbelievably proud to be a Swiftie and to be on this extraordinary journey with you. You give me strength, purpose, inspiration and so much more. I admire you exponentially and am so deeply grateful for your heart, your generosity, your fierceness, your class, your connection with your fans, your humanitarianism, your empowerment for women, your humility, your fearlessness to be yourself and for always standing up for those in marginalized groups, your championing for social justice and change, your support for the LGBTQIAP+ community, your promotion of diversity and inclusivity, the way you foster meaningful connections with people of all cultures and your insane talent! I could praise you into infinity and write a book on what your music has done for me but just know you are loved and appreciated beyond compare and you are the reason I am still here. Beaming love and support to you, forevermore!

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black-streak · 5 years

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Waiting for the Worms - Vera

Part 12

Aka, I have no control over myself and SOMEONE on discord maybe urged me on a little. One of these days, one of you are going to ask about the titles for these and I'm going to refuse to answer. Woah, someone remembered that Jason's body was dipped in a crazy pool and he hasn't experienced that before! How fun.

CLOSED beggars: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Jason knew those eyes, had been haunted by those eyes for months now. Felt the absolute need to protect them from the horrors of the world without a second thought. And now they were in front of him, real and alive and coming from the face of a young, tan skinned boy with pitch black, course looking hair that fell in a rumpled mess across his face, quietly calling out Marinette's name. The name he spent the better part of three years responding to as though it were his own. But that didn't make any sense, he'd never met this boy before. How did he know her? Was this a repressed memory of hers that her body somehow stored all this time and was trying to inform him of over time? Was this the work of the fear toxin taking hold and showing Marinette's worst fear? That also made no sense. He'd known her since she was six and she'd never mentioned this boy. It also couldn't explain the simplicity of the sight before her. Nothing fear inducing was actually happening. Except he felt on the edge of a panic attack anyways.

Could it be that his worst fear was this boy because of his reoccurring presence in his nightmares and the idea of this being a real child who's gone through so damn much it reminded him of himself, it scared him half to death? Or the fear that perhaps he had truly gone insane and the dreams were an indication of the war he raged inside himself?

Lifting his hands up to his face to block the images, he took note of the size, the coloration, the scaring. This wasn't how Marinette's hands looked. Those weren't Marinette's arms. Looking down, he knew that he shouldn't sit this tall or be this broad or have that long of legs. Nothing made sense anymore and as the hysteria set in, green edged his vision.

"Marinette? Mari? What's happening?" The voice drew closer, sounding concerned and hinting at the slightest touch of nerves.

"Venomous green. Electric, neon. Like Plagg."

That wasn't his voice, was it? He spoke, but that voice was too deep, too husky and masculine to be right. Nothing was right. This felt wrong and yet exactly as it was meant to all at once and he didn't understand. The bright green closed in on him and he felt himself tremble.

"It's the pits, Marinette. You've dealt with them, remember? You know how to fight it, how to calm yourself," the voice stayed where it was at, but he was sure if he looked up, those haunting jade eyes would be right there, staring into his soul.

How could he calm himself? The nightmares never talked to him like this, never told him to calm himself, to take control. He'd never dealt with the green overtaking his vision, not since the very first dream well over a year ago. He never fought it, what was this kid on about? Why was his mind screaming at him? He wanted to lash out, to hit and fight and attack, but his instincts yelled to protect the child and nothing else was here. Grabbing up another knife, he slammed it down, surprised to see it hit into a cushion that landed under his hand right as he moved.

"Deep breaths, counts of seven with me," the voice was closer, counting for him and he followed without thought. His thoughts narrowed into the numbers, the screaming dulling down to a soft roar in the background, the green settling down until it disappeared entirely and still the counting continued on until his breathing became his own.

"Back with me?"

"What the fuck is going on?" He hissed out, fear and nausea piling up.

The kid's eyes widened and then narrowed as he backed up, grip tightening on the blade still in his hand. He opened his mouth and hesitated for half a second before he asked, voice demanding and sharp, leaving no room for argument, "Jason?"

Jason reeled back, having not heard that name since the accident, "How do you know that name?"

"She's been going by it for as long as I've known her."

"Who?!"

"Marinette."

His breath caught in his throat, shoulders dropping from their defensive hunch, unable to speak for a moment. He stayed still, processing as the boy across from him moved around the other side of the kitchen counter, swiftly grabbing the knife block and dropping it off on the counter furthest away from Jason.

"How?"

"She told me she woke up in a grave. Had been in there for quite some time. Dug out and landed in a coma for a year. My- Talia found her after she woke up. Took her back to the league and dropped her in the pits. That was about-"

"A year and a half ago."

"Yes… how do you know this?"

"Saw the acid green at night, didn't know what it was."

"She mentioned the connection cutting when she died. I guess the pits could have healed that as well."

"And she met you about nine months ago, then. Or at least something significant happened. I recognize your eyes."

"I might have approached her around that time, I suppose."

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

"Fuck kid, tell me half of what I saw wasn't real?"

"Depends on what you saw, but I would assume so."

"Fucking hell. And so what, she just up and ran? Took you with her? Mari's alive? Been alive all this time and I didn't know?"

"Something like that," the kid slid closer, carefully prying the knife from his hand. Realizing he still held it, had thrown one at the boy only minutes before, he abruptly let go, letting it clattered onto the counter below where the kid swiped it off and put it with the others out of immediate reach. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he came to terms with Marinette's state of living. Dug herself out of his grave? A coma? Talia. He couldn't wrap his brain around it. If the dreams were all visions, his sweet little soulmate had killed. Had fought for her life so often it felt like routine. Had suffered and lost so much, had seen this child going through the same things and put her foot down. Had ran for her life, kid in tow, no guarantee of survival, while he lived with her parents. No villains to defeat, no league to push him or force his hand. He hadn't even been grateful. Just depressed and angry while she went through a hell ten times as brutal. From the look the kid gave him, she didn't even talk terribly of him like he deserved. Otherwise he was sure the kid would have that knife worked up to his throat by now, demanding her back. Granted he didn't look happy, but his stance wasn't openly hostile yet.

Shit, he didn't deserve her and yet joy spread through him like a whip. She was alive. She was okay and had a little family of her own and had moved on through it all and he felt so damn proud and joyful to know she was alive all this time. Despite the horrible circumstances and atrocities she obviously faced in her time as him, she had been alive and not taken to an early grave. She turned seventeen last week no matter what body she did so in. The Joker hadn't taken her from him despite his best efforts. She was too strong, too persistent and capable. Marinette was alive and the pure happiness that shocked him to his core left him shaking and breathless.

"Calm down, you'll work yourself up again. She never told me you were an emotional mess."

"Shut it, kid. You would freak out if you found out someone you thought dead for three years was alive too."

"Tt. You won't survive a week with the madness."

"The madness? What's that supposed to mean?" Jason felt his hackles rising and had to remind himself of the emotional lockdown from his time fighting Hawkmoth to stamp it down. The kid obviously meant a lot to Mari and he wasn't about to make an enemy of himself.

"The acidic green and screaming in your head I had to talk you down from? That was an aftereffect of being dipped in the Lazarus pit. Marinette has no problem controlling it now. Should have known it wasn't her the second you couldn't force it into submission yourself," the kid gave a haughty sneer, turning his nose up.

"And the first time it struck her? Did she have such control then?"

The boy seemed to wilt at that, looking down in shame, "No."

"What happened?"

"I made a mistake. Someone almost got to me and she lost it. Killed everyone in the vicinity."

"And that was towards the beginning?"

"No. She wasn't allowed in the training room with me until she had the madness locked down. It wasn't even our first mission together. It was my fault she lost control. She would've been fine had I not messed up."

Jason immediately felt bad for chastising the kid for his attitude. He obviously felt uncomfortable looking at a familiar face and yet talking to a virtual stranger.

"Hey, relax kid, I'm sure she doesn't see it that way and wouldn't want you to either. She probably just did what she thought necessary to protect you, even if you don't agree with her methods. Trust me, I'm familiar with them," he offered with a self deprecating chuckle.

The boy seemed to soften, looking at him with curious eyes, "You really are her soulmate," he stated, almost coming off as a tease, "It's Damian by the way."

"Huh?"

"You've been calling me kid for the last half hour. My name is Damian."

"Whatever, kid," he smirked as Damian's lips twisted in annoyance, "Wait, did you say half hour?"

"It took a while to calm you down," he shrugged.

Suddenly it hit Jason where he had been. What had been happening that sent him into that panic.

"Fuck!"

The kid startled, looking at him like he lost his rocker, which okay, that was fair.

"What now?"

"The place I was at. It got attacked when we switched. She had to have taken in some fear toxin, who knows what type of effect that has on her!"

"Attacked? She'll be fine, Marinette's the beat fighter I know," Damian seemed to calm at that, almost offended at his inferring her inability to handle the situation.

"Was she exposed to fear toxin in the league?"

"Fear toxin? I'm not sure what that is, but her immune system was adapted to handle several poisons. Every league members' is."

"You mean this body was. This body's immune system was adapted."

That seemed to throw him for a loop, stiffening up, but he persisted, "Her mind has taken on the chaos of the pit, surely fear pulsing through as well couldn't be worse."

"As well! Her soul was in that pit, not just this body. Meaning the madness probably latched on to her soul as well. In an unadjusted body, with the jolt and panic of being launched into her old body in the middle of an attack with fear toxin coursing through it."

The air about Damian seemingly crashed around him and the small shoulders begin to shake as reality settled in, "she's going to lose herself again, isn't she?" He half whimpered, trying to push it down to sound less weak infront of Jason, but he was obviously afraid. Jason flinched, remembering the kid's age once more and that he probably should have just agreed to keep him calm.

"We'll track her down. You can ground her, you're good at that, right?"

He nodded, "Can't you just switch back, instead? Give Marinette back?"

"It doesn't work that way kid. You can resist the tug when it comes, but you can't force the tug itself."

"Give her back! She's probably a mess right now, I need to help her!"

"I can't, kid. I'm sorry. We'll find her though, I promise. I know where she is. Where are we? The faster I can map out a route, the sooner you'll be with her. Tell me and then get changed, we'll leave now."

As the kid ran to what was presumably his room, rambling out an address, Jason was surprised to realize how close they were. Marinette lived in Gotham. He shouldn't feel so surprised.

He forced himself to the other room, rummaging through a drawer until he found clothes to shove on and walked towards the door, Damian running up behind him. As his hand touched the doorknob, his mind yanked him back and without any warning, he was thrown into Marinette's body once more.

#jasonette #maribat #ml x dc #WFTW #part 12 #yall are spoilt by me #i didnt even give this a once over #its just being tossed into the world now

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