#tw: brief mention of a parent telling their child they were just an accident and should never have been born | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

escelia · 1 year

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Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Here's part 3 (or chapter 4) of my fic Not So Normal. After this installment, I'm planning on uploading the series to ao3 as well as Tumblr so stay tuned for that link to drop!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterpost

Not So Normal pt3

TW: vague, brief descriptions/mentions of violence, vivisection, and panic attacks

It had been a total accident. His parents were supposed to be halfway to a science convention by then. When Danny floated through the floor and into the kitchen he hadn't expected his mothe- he hadn't expected Maddie to be there. He should have expected the gun in his face a moment later, but definitely not the hole she'd put in his chest before he'd even gotten a word out. It happened so fast. The shouting and shooting, the thermos…

He'd come to on the exam table in the lab, wrists bound, bright light in his face. He could barely make out the figures just beyond it, though he knew exactly who they were. He'd begged and screamed and cried, anything to get them to listen. Jack had gotten Maddie to take a breath and listen for a moment as Danny tried to get it through to them that he was their son!

"I'm Danny, it's me! I'm still me! Please, mom, you've gotta believe me!"

They believed him. He never thought that would make it worse. They became curious in a way they weren't before. Less angry about the dastardly spook they thought had been impersonating their son and more eager to tear into the science experiment they believed legally belonged to them. They called him an abomination that was no longer human and gripped their scalpels with cruel excitement on their faces. He remembered screaming for hours.

Only Clockwork would be able to say how long he'd been like that. All Danny had known was that he was tired and weak, his throat was dry and his entire body ached. He'd been in human form for the whole thing, and though it was much more painful that way, it kept them from getting to his core. He would only ever be grateful for that.

Eventually it was Jazz that had released him. Jack and Maddie had stepped out for dinner believing his restraints would hold his weakened body. They'd been right, he couldn't have escaped on his own, but Jazz had snuck down to the basement right after they'd left and shoved him through the portal, telling him not to come back, it wasn't safe, but to contact her when he knew he was okay. She'd locked the portal's blast door behind him. There, drifting in the vast green of the Realms, he cried and cried until he felt himself fall through a natural portal.

He'd dropped into a dirty alley with a painful thud and couldn't suppress the cry of pain as rocks and dirt pressed into his wounds.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He'd heard a man call. Gentle but firm hands helped him sit up, his own hands busy keeping his chest closed and smearing the blood and dirt that already covered him. The man gasped in horror as Danny begged for help.

Turns out the man that found him was none other than Bruce Wayne. He was alright as far as billionaires went; far more sane than Vlad at the very least. When Bruce asked what happened all he could get out was that his parents hurt him and he never wanted to go back there. Bruce had decided then and there that he would keep Danny. They'd taken pictures of the damage for court, thinking they would need to build a solid case since Danny was healing up well. He even called in a few favors with his lawyers. The Fentons, though, oh they helped plenty.

"Dr's Fenton, how do you plead?"

"Guilty! That thing is a monster! It belongs to us! That's our experiment! It's fooled you all! You'll see, just wait!"

Several of the officers around the courtroom had to restrain them as Maddie screamed and flailed. Jack was fuming. But much more docile than his wife. The pictures and testimonies had been enough to prove them guilty of child abuse and neglect, but their outburst all but sealed their fate as unsuitable parents. That day, Danny found a new place to call home, and a new family he was ready to die for.

~~•○•~~

Today was the day! Er- night! Tonight was the night! Danny was finally going out on patrol with the bat clan officially. After the events at the warehouse and his family finally learning about his past as Fenton and Phantom, Bruce has asked Danny if he was interested in patrolling with them. Damian had vouched for Danny, doling out thinly veiled compliments about his fighting prowess. Bruce decidedly kept that info to himself. The enthusiasm with which Danny responded had Bruce regretting asking, but it was clear that Danny had been itching to get out there and fight some crime.

Due to his experience, he'd been paired with Nightwing for the night. Dick had cheered at finally getting some one on one time with Danny, pulling him in for the kind of suffocating hug only an older sibling could provide. They had an absolute blast that night. Dick would show off, doing fun, dangerous looking flips off of buildings before firing his grappling hook at the last minute. And Danny could keep up, even as he swung through the air. It made Dick cackle in delight. Quietly of course, they were very stealthy, thank you! (Dick had to be shushed over the coms several times, and Danny was able to keep his laughter to a quiet snicker.)

They'd been on a roll with Danny being able to cover so much ground from so high up. In just the first few hours they'd stopped at least three muggings, recovered a stolen car, and prevented a bank robbery before it had even begun. Hearing his father commend him for a job well done over the coms made him glow with pride. He'd never had so much fun on patrol before. It made his core vibrate with glee.

"Danny, are you… purring?" Dick asked. He heard the others gasp over the coms.

"No! No, now way, I'm absolutely not purring! What gave you that idea?"

"He purrs?" Tim guffawed over the line, and Steph began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Absolutely not!"

"I've found he purrs when he's incredibly happy or content, just like a cat," Damian explained. He could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Aaawwwwwww! I'm happy spending time with you too, baby ghost!" Danny was smothered with another hug.

"Betrayed. By my baby brother! I cannot believe this."

"Settle down everyone! We're still on the clock," came the gruff, authoritative voice of Batman.

Sobering up from the moment, Danny and Dick went back to patrolling. It was starting to get quiet in their area, the others reporting incidents in their own sections of the city. It gave them time to grab a snack before something new popped up.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Nightwing began, taking a bite of his granola bar.

"I am," Danny replied. His snack of choice was a pack of fruit snacks. "Patrolling in my old haunt was exhausting. It was just me and my two friends out there most nights. Fight after fight after fight… I have a sense that lets me detect the presence of other ghosts, and it seemed to go off nonstop there. I was lucky if I got eight hours of sleep in a week, let alone a night." He paused to pop a few snacks in his mouth. Dick was quietly attentive, munching on his granola bar.

"Here, I know I've got someone to watch my back. And it helps that humans are much easier to handle non-violently than ghosts."

"I'm glad you like it here, Phantom," Nightwing said with a smile, using his codename. Danny smiled back, getting ready to toss a few fruit snacks into his mouth but stopping short when a chill unfurled on his chest. He gasped, dropping his snacks. Seemed like their break was over.

"What's wrong?" Nightwing asked alert now, eyes flicking around the area to perceive the threat.

"Get behind me."

"What?"

"Just do it! You're not equipped to fight ghosts!"

At the word ghost, the coms erupted in chaos. Danny shouted at them to stay clear, he could handle it just fine, it was probably a small fry anyways. Dick followed his directions, getting behind Danny but not cowering. No, his big brother was covering his back. Sure enough, about a minute later, three large glowing vultures rose over the edge of the rooftop.

"Awe great, it's the birds with the hats! What do you want?"

"Good evening to you, too, King Phantom," one of them snickered. Danny just scowled.

"Plasmius sent us to, and I quote, 'knock some sense inta ya.'" another one said, making air quotations with the tips of his wings.

"I'll have you know I've got a thermos here with your names on it and no access to a portal. How does an extended stay in Soupland sound?" Danny waved his thermos threateningly at them, a sarcastic smile on his face.

"How does taking your little friend here hostage sound?" The last one threatened, perching his claws on Dick's shoulders. Faster than Dick could blink, Danny had spun around, ice shooting out to freeze the two other two birds, thermos pointed like a gun, while clawed fingers wrapped around the third one's neck. The bird squawked in fear.

Frost swirled dangerously around his aura, and Dick swallowed nervously in the face of its intensity. Danny's eyes were glowing a furious, toxic green, and even though the glare wasn't directed at him, he could feel its anger. Dick had seen him like this at the warehouse, sure. But now, this close, Dick truly understood the sheer power that Danny possessed, the majesty that was this eldritch creature in front of him. Somehow, all he felt in his presence was safe.

Danny growled at the ghost clutching at Nightwing, squeezing until the talons loosened.

"Why did Vlad send you?" He questioned. Absently, Dick thought he reminded him of Bruce in interrogation mode.

"He's mad some other guy adopted you or something, the same usual psycho spiel!"

"What's he planning!"

"I don't know! He was going on about how you're supposed to be his son and was throwing things. He wanted us to come rough up you and your new family. He's real mad, but that's all we know, I swear!"

It was silent for a moment while Danny absorbed the information. He regarded the vulture with cold eyes but didn't release him. He should have known Vlad would try something like this. His adoption wasn't super public but it wasn't like it was a secret either, so he'd been bound to find out. Most ghosts respected him too much as King now to threaten anyone Danny considered family, but Vlad always had his ways. He'd have to take care of it without getting the others involved.

Making up his mind, he hit the button on his thermos, sucking up the frozen ghosts and the ice along with it before swinging it around and shoving the end on the last one's beak, trapping him too. Dick sagged in relief once they were gone and Danny made a fuss about checking his shoulders to make sure he wasn't injured.

"Phantom, what was that about!" Bruce's voice was strained over the coms, likely because he didn't know what to do or how to help. Damn, Danny had forgotten that the others could hear them. At the time it had been a brilliant idea; Danny infusing the coms with ectoplasm meant that not only could Danny use them without causing interference, but they were now some of the most secure lines of communication on earth. There went his plan to keep his family out of it.

"Just some unfinished business," Danny replied, trying to sound unbothered. "The hostiles have been apprehended, and there are no injuries. We're good to continue patrolling."

Dick eyed him skeptically.

"Absolutely not. Turn in for the night you two, we'll debrief at the end of patrol," was Batman's stern order.

"No way, more are bound to show up-"

"Which is why you'll need to teach us how to fight them. We'll need you level headed for that, Phantom. Head back to the cave. We'll talk later."

Danny pouted. He could be level headed and still finish patrol! He could! At least that's what he told himself while he clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. Dick put a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was cold.

"Why don't we have Agent A make us some hot chocolate and we'll tuck in for a movie while we wait for the others," he suggested. The ghost searched his brother's face, seeing concern even underneath his domino.

"Fine," Danny conceded. "But I get to pick the movie."

By the time the others had gotten back to the manor Danny was curled up on the couch, chilly toes tucked underneath his brother's thigh and hands curled around a warm mug while the credits for James Cameron's Avatar rolled on the TV. Damian reached over the back of the couch and gave Danny's shoulder a squeeze, pulling him from his post hot coco daze. They had a meeting to get started.

~~•○•~~

As everyone settled around the meeting table in the cave, Damian made a beeline to the seat next to Danny. He would never admit to anyone that he'd been jealous that Danny had been sent out with Richard. Logically, he knew there was no real reason for Brother to come with Father and himself. He wasn't getting dethroned as Robin, and he had enough experience that Father could trust Danny out with a patrol partner. Still, he'd wanted to be there for his first experience patrolling as a member of the family. After the events of the evening, he wished even more he'd been there.

He'd heard of this Vlad before, and never in a good light, though he knew nothing more than that Danny did not like him. It was clear he'd been a source of great stress before he had come to them. Damian was frustrated that he couldn't be there to put their assailants in their place. It looked as though Danny had never mentioned Vlad to anyone else. Damian didn't know if he was proud or concerned by that. Instead of voicing his thoughts on the matter, he leaned in close to Danny's ear to whisper.

"Are you sure we're not blood related?" Damian asked with a smirk.

"What?" Danny whispered back, confused.

"When you were questioning the, what were they, birds? You sounded like Father." Danny turned to blink at him, trying to process the comment. "It is a compliment, Danny."

"Oh!"

"What are you two whispering about?" Tim asked from across the table. He'd leaned one hand onto the table with the other on his hip like an amused mother who'd caught her children conspiring.

"It's none of your concern, Drake." Danny chuckled and shrugged at him, miming zipping his lips shut.

"Alright, mission report, Phantom," Bruce interrupted, approaching the table and throwing a folder down. "What was tonight about?" Danny took a deep breath to keep himself calm.

"An old thorn in my side. The vulture ghosts were sent by a guy who used to bother me back in Amity Park. Had this crazy idea that if he killed my family, he could have me all to himself as some little heir to his evil empire. Seems he heard about my adoption."

Bruce frowned deep at that. So he was a threat to be concerned about. Good thing he'd done some research on ghost weapons then. He tapped the folder.

"If he'll be sending more ghosts to attack us, then we need to know how to fight them. I've taken the liberty of doing some research on weaponry. DalvCo is willing-"

"Absolutely not!" Danny stopped him short. Bruce barely stopped himself from groaning. It had been a long night, and now was not the time to be argumentative.

"We need weapons. This isn't up for discussion."

"That wasn't a request, Bruce. As High King of the Infinite Realms, I forbid my family from doing business with DalvCo and, subsequently, Vlad 'Plasmius' Masters, who owns it." Bruce's face contorted with understanding after his words. The others were quick to catch on. He heard Dick grumble about how the name wasn't even clever, and it made Danny smirk.

"Besides," Danny continued, a sly grin overtaking his face. His teeth were a little too sharp in his mouth. "I have a much better plan. Tim, how do you feel about mad science?"

Tim's eyes gleamed, and his grin, teeth less sharp and far more human, matched Danny's.

"You can build weapons?" Damian guessed next to him. Danny glowed with pride.

"Of course I can, I'm Daniel Fenton-Wayne, after all!"

~~•○•~~

Meanwhile, in Soupland

"I told you we shoulda just told him what was up, then got outta there."

"How was I supposed to know he was gonna ice you two?"

"Oh, please, the ice was tame. He souped us! He said he doesn't have access to a portal and he souped us!"

"That's what we get for threatening someone close to our King."

"Exactly, we shouldn'ta done that. We're too old for this!"

"I may be old, but I'm not deaf. Stop shouting in my ear, loud mouth!"

"Well, then get your wing outta my face, flabby feathers!"

"In case you haven't noticed, IT'S FROZEN!"

"We coulda been on a tropical southern island by now if it weren't for that Plasmius jerk pitting us against Phantom."

"Yeah!"

"Yeeaah!"

"We should work for the King from now on."

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itzblakey1 · 1 day

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Here's Blake!

(HAILEE STEINFELD . CISWOMAN . She/her) - the Chicago resident , ( Blake Dixon) , was heard blaring ( SATIVA BY JHENÉ AIKO ) this morning . the ( TWENTY SIX ) year old is a ( UNEMPLOYED ) in the city & has lived the ( EAST ) tower for ( TWO MONTHS ) . since being here , they have been told to be (- CLUMSY ) , but also (+CHARMING ) , i guess we’ll find out soon !

Pinterest || Spotify (in the making)

The Basics

Full Name: Blake Lee Dixon

Birthday: June 5th

Zodiac: Gemini

Age: Twenty-Six

Faceclaim: Hailee Steinfeld

Birthplace: San Diego, California

Occupation: Unemployed at this given moment

Gender: Cis-Female

Pronouns: She/her/hers

Sexual Orientation: Lesbian

Relationship Status: Single

Positive Traits: Sweet, Gentle, Charming, Loyal, Flirtatious

Negative Traits: Clumsy, Awkward, Depressive, Stubborn, Scatterbrained

Hobbies: Reading, Cooking, Swimming, binge watching Disney movies and shows, skateboarding, photography

============================================

TW: Brief mention of Homophobia, Mention of Abuse, Car Accident/Mention of Death, Alcohol Usage

Blake Lee Dixon was born and raised in San Diego, California. She was the only child in the wealthy, religious Dixon household. Her parents always wanted what was best for her, so they worked her harder to make sure her schoolwork was turned in on time and that she got nothing but straight A’s, which she did. She was always the over achiever in school, which meant she never focused on any romance either. For years, she made sure she was the best daughter they could ever have, since she was their only one. She didn’t want to let them down.

Upon being the only child, her father forced her to finally hook up with a boy in school around age 15. She viewed it as his way of telling her to.. ‘Get married and have kids’ even when she didn’t want anything like that. She had plans to go to college, she wasn’t focused on dating a boy and getting knocked up just so her parents could have grandchildren. She managed to make the boy lose interest by lack of communication and he ended up leaving her mid junior year in High School. She was relieved, the parents however weren’t pleased with her decision but let it slide since she was so young. She had time to get another one.

Early senior year, she ended up coming across a girl in school. They became friends quickly and they even helped each other do their school work together. Next thing Blake knew, she was becoming a nervous wreck around her. Her heart skipped every moment she was near.. She was starting to fall for this girl. But why? She didn’t want any romance.

Despite not wanting anything dealing with the word “love”, Blake couldn’t hide it anymore. She couldn’t ignore what her heart wanted, and it wanted the girl. They got together, and it was almost like a Disney movie. They were happy, in love, nothing could come in between them. That was until Blake’s dad finally found out by some teachers calling him and letting him know his daughter was kissing a girl during school hours. Furious, he forced her to more church sessions. But it didn’t work. Blake was stubborn, she wanted to stay with the girl, no matter what.

The dad grew tired of Blake’s stubbornness when she was 17, for a belt went across her face, a cut on her left cheek was enough to know he would do more if she didn’t put a stop to this man’s anger growing or it would have gotten worse. Finally grabbing her keys to her car, despite only having a permit, she stormed out, heading over to her girlfriend’s place in a rage. After ranting, calming down, downing alcohol in the process, Blake decided she wanted to go confront the man. Rightfully, the girlfriend refused, but Blake didn't listen.

Getting in the car, the potent smell of alcohol pouring off her body, Blake began her quick drive to her house. While driving, a loud horn started to blare, a blurry set of lights shining towards her. Blake was quick enough to turn the steering wheel to get out of the way. However, she was going too fast; she lost control, crashing into a tree, hitting her head hard against the window. She blacked out.

Two days later, Blake finally woke up in a hospital bed, her head and neck held in place by a brace. Her blurry vision went away slowly as her eyes looked around, noticing where she was. A doctor then came in to break the news and let Blake know what happened to her.

Blake hit her head severely during the accident, suffering from a concussion from how hard her head went against the glass. The doctors also let her know about the side effects from the concussion. She would experience stuff down the line, including: dizziness, clumsiness, blurry vision, even tremors in her hands just from how bad the impact was, and even some mental issues like severe anxiety. They then made sure to keep her in the bed for 3 more days until she was finally able to be released. Freedom again! She could go back home- that was..until her dad mentioned she was going to court. Yikes..

Upon arrival to the courtroom, she was put on a small trial. It didn’t last long because she was still a teen and no one else got hurt. The judge pitied her, knowing her record. She was a good kid, obviously panicked about being in a courtroom and possibly going to juvie or worse. He ended up taking her permit, giving her a notice to take her test again once she hit age 21, gave her 30 hours of community service, along with making her go to group counseling to deal with her “alcoholic problems.” (She would go do all of these things either on the weekend or after school hours.)

Relieved she didn’t have to go to juvie, she was glad that was her punishment for her stupidity.

When she returned to school, she was at least happy to finally see her girlfriend that she hadn’t seen in a few weeks. When they met up, the girl was relieved. They were both happy. One thing ended up changing with Blake, however, making the girl grow tired of having to babysit her in a way. Blake began to get clumsy, dropping things without meaning to, her hands now shaky without her control. Her girlfriend dropped her, she didn’t want to be with someone with so many “medical flaws.”

Blake was heartbroken, but she understood though.. She was angry at herself for not having any control on what her hands do, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She ended up growing quiet for her last year of school. The rumors of her being the girl that crashed from drunk driving went around pretty quickly, making her think she wasn’t going to have anyone to really talk to now. That was until a girl named Darcy Anthony ended up befriending her, despite the rumors that were being spread about Blake. Blake was hesitant, but ended up becoming good friends with her.

Darcy then introduced Blake to a new friend group, and they grew close throughout the short amount of time they had left in school, and Blake was relaxed enough to finally have fun with them. They stuck together, even after graduation. However it all went downhill when they lost a friend while they were celebrating their graduation together when they were all 18. Due to the incident, the group ended up going their separate ways.. Made sense though. A lot of high school kids separate for whatever reason. However, she made it known she wanted to still be close with Darcy. She wanted someone to nerd out with still.

Finally, Blake used the money that her father had set aside for her and moved away from California to the Marina Towers, an apartment complex located in Chicago, Illinois, just to be away from her parents.. Funnily enough, living with Darcy who convinced the scaredy cat female to go on ghost hunting adventures with her.

=============================================

Extra Info and Head cannons:

Blake suffers from anxiety, and she keeps a fidget ring on her left index finger to mess with when it acts up. She’s never suffered with anxiety till after the wreck.

Despite it being from the Traumatic Brain Injury, she tends to laugh off the fact that she stumbles out of nowhere, keeping a positive outlook on things.

Blake used to ride her skateboard a lot, but after the accident, she hasn’t touched it much, yet she was nervous about trying again due to the numb, tingly feeling that happens throughout her legs. Upon attempting to do so, she has fallen off, which leaves her angry.

Blake has a scar on her cheek from the belt her dad used on her when she was 17.(People will also see her with bandages or little scrapes on her arms or face because of her being a klutz.)

#marina.intro #tw homophobia #tw death #tw abuse #tw alcoholism #tw depression

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tosxa-h · 6 months

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[TOUCH] make it angst make it angst

[TOUCH] The sender's touch is gentle as they explore a particularly sensitive scar on the receiver's skin. Tw. Harm, child abuse mention.

Ajax was littered with scars. As long as he could remember his body was marred in some way even if only slightly; scrapped knees and elbows from various raucous activities, fingers cut from fishing hooks or serrated knives, and there was also the time his father once hit him so hard he lost his balance and opened his chin on a kitchen chair. Perhaps he hadn't meant too, perhaps he forgot just how young his son was and Ajax almost didn't blame him- who else could do the damage he did to others at his age? Breaking the neighbour's kid's leg? How inconsiderate can you be? But we were playing soldiers.

I wanted to win.

By the time his long months in the abyss had passed that scar on his chin had become one of many and by the time he had grown into the adult he was today it had practically faded. You may mistake it for a shaving accident perhaps (if he could grow a beard). Or a natural divot in his skin. Ajax, however, knew it was there. He wasn't angry at his father and his old school notions of parenting for it, he rarely gave that punishment amongst the many much thought beyond how he had lost his balance.

His balance got better after that day.

It was also safe to say it was far from feeling sensitive now. It was simply a memory from his childhood. A lesson his dad had taught him.

Lumine's gloved hand was gentle and warm , perhaps it was that gentleness that caused a chill down his spine. Gentle wasn't a gesture he was used too. Her petite fingers brushed the tissue just above his left hip and he briefly caught his breath, his muscles stiffening ever so much.

After all this time, was it really so delicate? How strange... of all scars to still feel. It was this one.

Instinctively Ajax grabbed her hand in the split second his mind had tried to process it all. The breath, the stiffening sinews, the memory. Panic. It was brief and not something he often felt. It unsettled him. He released her hand as fast as he had held it. But the uncomfortable feeling it left created a heaviness in his chest.

"That's enough show and tell, Girly." Ajax did his best to keep his voice normal with a smile, despite his heart racing. How had this started again? Oh right, something about his pain tolerance, how some other injury was nothing compared to this. He didn't realise how right he was until she touched him.

#trigger warning #tw #harm #abuse #child abuse #okay so mun note: in my head his father isnt that tv stereotypical drunk abusive man #i think that he may have just had old school ideas of punishment and had no idea how to deal with ajax when maybe his older brothers were #more manageable #so i feel like when ajax was at his worst he may had resulted to physical punishment but it wasnt like all the time #i feel like when ajax was being bad his father may had just made him do physical labour or help neighbours etc #but i also think it wasnt like something that happened all the time either #nagareboshiko

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its-blakeiguess · 1 year

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[cis-female, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [BLAKE LEE DIXON]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [HAILEE STEINFELD]. You must be the [TWENTY-SIX] year old [BARISTA AT DRIFTWOOD COFFEE SHOP]. Word is you’re [CHARMING] but can also be a bit [CLUMSY] and your favorite song is [ONE WRONG TURN by ALEC BENJAMIN]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

TW: Brief mention of Homophobia, Mention of Abuse, Car Accident/Drunk Driving, Alcohol Usage

The Basics:

Full Name: Blake Lee Dixon

Birthday: June 5th

Zodiac: Gemini

Age: Twenty-Six

Faceclaim: Hailee Steinfeld

Birthplace: Aurora Bay, California

Neighborhood: Ocean Crest Apartments

Occupation: Barista at Driftwood Coffee Shop

Gender: Cis-Female

Pronouns: She/her/hers

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Relationship Status: Single

Positive Traits: Sweet, Gentle, Charming, Loyal, Flirtatious

Negative Traits: Clumsy, Awkward, Depressive, Stubborn, Scatterbrained

Hobbies: Reading,Cooking, Swimming, binge watching Disney movies and Shows, skateboarding, photography

Here is a little about her story!

Blake Lee Dixon was born and raised in Aurora Bay, California. She was the only child in the wealthy, religious Dixon household. Living closer to the beach was all she could ever ask for, it was amazing growing up and being able to walk a few minutes down to the beach and enjoy the nice ocean water and the warmth of the sun and sand. She was always a big fan of the sea anyways.

Her parents always wanted what was best for her, so they worked her harder to make sure her school work was turned in on time and that she got nothing but straight A’s in school, which she did. She was always the over achiever in school, which meant she never focused on any romance either. For years, she made sure she was the best daughter they could ever have, since she was their only one. She didn’t want to let them down.

The dad grew tired of Blake’s stubbornness when she was 17, for a belt went across her face, a cut on her left cheek was enough to know he would do more if she didn’t put a stop to this man’s anger growing or it would have gotten worse. FInally grabbing the keys to her dad’s car, despite only having a permit, she stormed out, heading over to her girlfriend’s place in a rage. After ranting, calming down, downing alcohol in the process, Blake had the idea to go back just to confront her dad about what he did, her girlfriend was against it but couldn’t stop her.

Relieved she didn’t have to go to juvie, she was glad that was her punishment for her stupidity.

Blake was heartbroken, but she understood though.. She was angry at herself for not having any control on what her hands do, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She ended up growing quiet for her last year of school. The rumors of her being the girl that crashed from drunk driving went around pretty quickly, making her think she wasn’t going to have anyone to really talk to now. That was until a girl named Darcy ended up befriending her, despite the rumors that were being spread about Blake. Blake was hesitant, but ended up becoming good friends with her.

Not long after, Darcy introduced Blake to her small friend group, and they grew close throughout the short amount of time they had left in school, and Blake was relaxed enough to finally have fun with them. They were almost like family to her.

They stuck together, even after graduation. However it all went downhill when they lost a friend while they were celebrating their graduation together when they were all 18. It didn’t stop getting worse when they started to split up, one named Darcy moving away entirely. Blake didn’t know what to do. She grew quiet again, she did everything her dad said to make up for what she did when she was a teenager, just so she wasn’t on his bad side any longer.

Finally around age 21, she finally used the money that her father had set aside for her, went and got her permit finally and moved out to Ocean Crest Apartments just to be away from her parents. She has been there ever since, getting a job at Driftwood Coffee Shop to make sure she was in a decent, quiet environment to work since she still struggles with headaches that come and go. Her tremors were still there, not as bad, but she has recovered greatly since then, however she still loses her balance from random occurrences of dizziness.

Years went by and now at age 26 the friend group she had in school started to come back together again, Darcy moved back and surprised them all and now she and Blake are roommates. Blake was still upset about everything.. What happened with her, the ex.. It was like the memory would never leave no matter how much she would try to forget that incident. Blake put on a smile though , trying to move forward. There was no point to be stuck in the past, especially when there’s nothing she could do about it now other than try to be her old witty self, despite the little flaws she has now.

Extra Info and Head cannons:

Blake suffers from anxiety and she keeps a fidget ring on her left index finger to mess with when it acts up. She’s never suffered with anxiety till after the wreck.

Despite it being from the concussion, she tends to laugh off the fact that she stumbles out of nowhere, keeping a positive outlook on things.

Blake has a scar on her cheek from the belt her dad used on her when she was 17.(People will also see her with bandages or little scrapes on her arms or face because of her being a klutz.)

Blake, who is still questioning her sexuality, is super hesitant about getting in another relationship, knowing she’ll suffer from the tremors and clumsiness for a while or forever, she’ll possibly get her heart broken again.

@aurorabayaesthetic

#aurorabay.intro #here she is #i have rewritten this twice #be gentle shes bby #tw: alcohol #tw drunk driving #tw homophobia

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mrs-hilmarson · 4 years

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Run To Me (Part 4)

Pairing: Diane Sherman x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

TW: Brief mention of vomiting. I don’t want anyone getting triggered, so I would rather be overly cautious!

A/N: If you would like to be on a tag list for this fic, please add a comment below or shoot me a message! Excited about the next chapter, things are coming. Again thank you for the love. I am having so much fun writing this and it means even more when you have people who enjoy reading it!

Even though it had been four whole days since the accident, you were not feeling better. Diane had said that the day after was supposed to be the worst, but it seemed like you felt weaker each day. Diane was keeping a close eye on you though, making sure you weren't running a fever and that the road rash and cuts weren't getting worse. She said if you got any weaker, she would bring you to the local urgent care to make sure something serious wasn't going on.

Though you weren't feeling well, you enjoyed the days spent with Diane in the quiet little house, just the two of you. You had learned a lot about each other in the past few days, developing a routine with one another that always ended the day with a cup of that nasty ass tea, but deep and sweet conversation.

You hadn't gone into too much detail about your past quite yet, about your mother or father or what it was like in the foster home. You shared mainly surface level things and funny memories that were light hearted. You knew the heavier stuff would be discussed eventually. Although you were choosing to keep the painful memories of your past to yourself for the time being, Diane had opened to you almost immediately.

You found out she didn't have parents either, her mother dying when she was a child and she was married when she was very young, to an abusive husband that left her for another woman only a year and a half into the marriage. Soon after she found out she was pregnant and she decided to not reach out to her ex-husband and to just raise the baby on her own. Unfortunately she developed high blood pressure and delivered the baby too soon, and she died in Diane's arms before she even had time to discuss options. Her name was Chloe and Diane chose to live a quiet life after that. She moved to Washington only a few years ago and put herself into teaching, science, and her garden. She always wanted a child, but she was just never able have one again.

When she told you that, your heart broke for her. Of course she was so willing to take you home with her. She was lonely! She had promised to take care of you, but you knew as soon as you were back on your feet, you were going to try and care for her too. In whatever way she would let you. You weren't Chloe, and you could never be Chloe, but you could love her with all your heart.

It had been another rough day, as you had suddenly developed a bad headache and had felt queasy for most of it. You didn't really eat much of your dinner, pushing it around your plate. You didn't want to tell Diane you had vomited up breakfast. If she knew you were barely keeping things down, she may get worried.

Diane cleared the plates from the table and brought them to the sink. She noticed you didn't eat more than a few bites. She didn't say anything but turned to you and smiled.

"How about you go ahead and sit on the couch? I'll be there in just a minute," she said quietly. Her voice had seemed to grow more gentle towards you each day.

You smiled wearily and went to the living room, lazily sitting down on the couch. It could have only been a few minutes, but you somehow managed to fall asleep. You were constantly tired and wanting to nap. Diane said it was a good sign because it meant your body was trying to heal itself.

You were woken up by the couch dipping under Diane's weight. You opened your eyes and saw her smiling at you, holding a bowl of something brown. It smelled sweet and you looked at her suspiciously.

"What's that? No tea tonight?" you asked, hopeful.

Diane chuckled and pulled out two spoons, sticking it into the bowl.

"No, no tea tonight. I don't want you to get too much of those herbs and vitamins. And this, it's brownie batter. Me and my friends as teenagers would make a bowl of it and eat it as we talked about boys and school and our dreams," she said, picking up a spoon and licking off the chocolate from it.

You couldn't help but smile as you took a spoon and licked at it cautiously. You had never had the stuff and it was intoxicating. You shoved the whole spoon in your mouth, ready to inhale the entire bowl.

Diane laughed and pulled the bowl towards her.

"Alright, alright speedy... don't eat it too fast. You'll get sick."

You forced yourself to go slower, but the moment Diane turned around you would be sure to put as much of it in your mouth that would fit. This was worth getting sick over. Diane stared at you, drinking up the image of you enjoying the treat she had brought.

"You know," Diane hummed, "I always thought I'd do this one day with my daughter. Make it a tradition and she'd tell me her secrets and we would be best friends."

You're heart ached in your chest. You knew she meant Chloe and you knew she would rather her be on the couch than you. Suddenly the batter didn't taste as sweet. You put the spoon into the bowl and left it there. You looked up at Diane and saw she was almost beaming at you though.

"I'm glad I get to do it with you," she said, picking up the spoon with her other hand and letting you eat off it.

You felt really confused, but happy at the same time. You knew you weren't her daughter, but sometimes the way she said things or looked at you, it was like she wanted you to be. As if that's how she saw you. You weren't sure if you saw her as a mother though, you didn't really know what that felt like. It was complex for you.

"So, Y/n, tell me. What did you do with your friends? Did you have any special traditions with the girls?" Diane asked, eating another spoon of the batter, it dripping onto her lips.

It broke you from your anxious thoughts and had you now thinking about your past. It wasn't that much better but at least it would keep you talking.

"Well, I really wasn't in one place long enough to make any traditions with my friends. But me and my foster sister, the one who lives in town, we would go and sneak out of our group home and head to the woods behind it. The woods had fireflies in them and we would go see the 'light shows' and talk about a bunch of different things. What our families could have been like, what we were going to do when we aged out, the issues we had at the home."

You remembered those nights fondly, some of the few good memories you had growing up. You wondered if there were any woods in the area and if they had fireflies. Maybe you could go and see a 'light show' for old times sake. You would ask your sister when you saw her. But you needed to call her first.

"Uh Diane, could I possibly use your phone?"

Diane suddenly stiffened, the spoon thudding back into the batter. Her face seemed to harden just for a moment before quickly returning to the warm look she often gave you. It took her a moment to respond, making the air between you thick for some reason.

"Sure. Are you okay?" she said, her voice sounding concerned.

She seemed like she was worried and you wondered if she thought she had upset you.

"Oh yeah! I'm fine. I just actually wanted to call my sister and let her know I made it here and that I'm safe and see when she wanted to meet up," you said in a confident tone, hoping to ease her mind.

Her face seemed to twitch and she swallowed hard, clearing her throat. She smiled at you though and you just shrugged off her strange reaction. She pointed to the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. Diane had phones with chords still in her house, which you found charming, but also a little inconvenient that you couldn't step outside.

"You're welcome to call your foster sister," she said, saying the word 'foster' strangely, "I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for bed to give you some privacy."

She smiled at you and brushed your hair behind your ear before getting up and heading to her room. You waited until you could no longer hear her footsteps before leaning over the brownie bowl and quickly stuffing your mouth with as much batter as you could. As soon as you swallowed it all, you realized you may have made a mistake, but you could regret it later.

You walked over to the phone and pressed the buttons to the number you had memorized by heart. You felt nervous suddenly even though nothing had changed and you had just talked to her a week ago. Your heart race increased with each ringer, anxious to hear her voice.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice on the other side of the phone croaked.

"Mandy? Mandy, its Y/n."

There was some rustling on the other side of the line and you were pretty sure you had woken Mandy up, but you knew she wouldn't mind.

"Hey! I was wondering when I would hear from you. I was a little worried. You were supposed to call me like two days ago," she yawned.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I had a little set back. But I'm here in town and I'm staying with a woman I met-"

Mandy cut you off with a very obnoxious "Ooooohhhhhh!"

"Shut up. It's not like that. She's just a really good friend that I was lucky enough to meet. Now before you say anything else stupid, when and where do you want to meet?"

Mandy chuckled on the other end. She knew you hated being picked on and anytime she sensed even the possibility of making you uncomfortable, she had to crack a joke.

"Well, I have class tomorrow, but I am free after lunch. There is a nice little coffee shop book store on Howard. You can meet me there at like 2PM. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, that's perfect. I can't wait. I've missed you so much Mandy," you said, tears prickling at your eyes.

"I've missed you too lighting bug. So tell me, who is this lady you are-"

Suddenly Mandy's voice cut off. You pulled the phone away from your ear, not even hearing a dial tone. You messed with the phone for a moment before realizing the line was dead.

"Diane?" you called out, sticking your head around the corner.

Diane was right there, breathing heavy as if she had been running. She startled you and you stared at her, mindlessly passing the phone to her.

"Your phone line went dead," you mumbled.

Diane put the phone to her ear and pressed a few buttons before hanging up.

"I'll call the phone company in the morning. Sometimes someone hits a line and the whole thing goes dead. Were you able to call your friend though?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

You noticed she said friend this time, but you brushed it off. She didn't know the bond you and Mandy shared.

"Yes! I did. I'm going to meet her tomorrow for lunch."

Diane didn't hid her discomfort this time.

"Y/n, I don't think that's a good idea. You're still very weak. You didn't even eat dinner. I don't think you should go out by yourself. Maybe I should go with-"

"No. It's okay. I'll be fine for a couple of hours. I won't be running a marathon, just having a coffee with my sister."

You wanted to spend time with Mandy by yourself and while you appreciated the thought of Diane going with you, you were still an adult no matter how young you looked. It didn't help that at the moment the brownie batter was now fighting against you and you were hunched over slightly.

"Well maybe consider letting me drive you to town? I need to run some errands anyway so I can drive you and that way if you feel like you need to lay down or rest I wouldn't be far."

You would need a ride to town, but you just weren't sure.

"Let me sleep on it. I hate to think I would be using you just for a ride. And-" before you could finish, you start having a coughing fit. Coughing was nothing new to you thanks to the asthma, but this wasn't that. This was the batter.

You tried to keep it down, but it was too late. You threw up, all over yourself, all over the floor, and even on Diane's slippers. You expelled everything you had eaten that day and more and it took a moment before you stopped gagging, laying in a ball on the floor.

Suddenly fear over took you as you saw yourself and the floor covered in vomit. You know your mom would be so mad when she saw it and you would get punished. You didn't want to be punished. You began to cry and you scooted away until your body hit the wall.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to," you cried. You forgot where you were and suddenly you were back at home. You didn't like going back.

Diane quickly ran over to you, not phased by the vomit and held you in her arms. You fought her off at first but she shooshed you and smoothed your hair, holding you close to her. She knew a flashback when she saw one. She held you and whispered in your ear. It took a moment but eventually you came back to present day. You still felt sick, you now smelled awful, your head hurt, and you were embarrassed. For the first time since you had met Diane, you felt tears prickle you eyes and instead of hiding them, you let them flow.

You cried in Diane's arms as she rocked you back in forth, and you apologized over and over again. You weren't sure if you were saying sorry because you had thrown up on her or if it was because she lost her daughter or because you were the mess of a person she felt fate brought her. She kissed your head and took your face in her hands. She wiped your tears with the pads of her thumb and looked at you with tears in her eyes too.

"Hey. It's okay. Stop apologizing. You're safe now Y/n."

She pulled you back to her chest again and wrapped her arms around you tight as if she would never let you go.

"I've got you," she whispered, over and over.

"I've got you, and I'm not letting go."

#sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson fic #sarah paulson #diane sherman #diane sherman x reader #run film

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ofskye · 2 years

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𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶 ...

𝐌𝐄𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀 ❛ 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 ❜ 𝐃𝐔𝐁𝐎𝐈𝐒 ------ a 𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝑆𝐼𝑋 year old all the way from 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐍𝐉. 𝑆𝐻𝐸 is currently studying 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 at the interchange. ( nala, she / her, est ) // pinterest | dossier.

tw: brief hints / mentions of fertility issues, car accident, death, sexism.

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 ;

born to a loving mother and father, mekhala was the moon in their sky(e). the couple had been trying to grow their family for awhile, but to no avail. failed attempt after failed attempt, the pair continued to push forward. to support one another. to never give up hope, until one day, they were told the news of their beautiful little miracle. it wasn’t an easy task, carrying the child .. fear & incessant worrying often crept like a dark cloud off in the distance, but her parents were fighters and mekhala made it to full term and two finally became three.

at one, skye is left with a babysitter. her parents deciding that they’ve vetted the college girl looking for pocket money long enough and had earned their first date night since bringing their bundle of joy home. the agreed upon arrival time back home was 10PM, the babysitter needing time to make it back to her dorm before curfew, but by 10:07PM, her parents weren’t the ones coming to relieve the babysitter of her duties.

a drunk driver, they said. we did all we could, they said. it just wasn’t enough, they said. i’m sorry, they said.

and, just like that, skye is uprooted from newark & moving to cherry hill with the only family who wanted to take on a young child: her paternal aunt.

at six, she starts school. despite being as young as she was during the time of the accident, it was a difficult transition and her aunt believed it best to focus their attention on helping skye settle, which included personal tutors for preschool. being around so many kids is a new experience for her, but kids can be cruel towards those who are different. she’s picked on for being the child of a single mother until the children learn she doesn’t actually have any parents. the reasons why are irrelevant and this is the first significant experience she has, witnessing the difference in treatment of men vs. women; single fathers praised for stepping up, for their sacrifice while single mothers are shamed for being unable to keep a husband or having a child out of wedlock, for wanting a career for themselves.

at twelve, she has her second significant experience. dressing up like her aunt in celebration of career day, skye’s outfit makes her look older and she learns from a male teacher across the hall that the glasses on her face make her look like a sexy librarian. the comments roll off of her like water on rubber, skye pretending to be busy practicing the speech she planned to give to introduce her aunt, but she tells the story over dinner than evening and strangely .. never sees that teacher again.

at fourteen, she has her third significant experience in the form of catcalls, disrespectful comments, and ridiculous dress code violations.

women shoulders are distracting, they said. it’s important she doesn’t disrupt the boys in her class, they said.

now, however, skye is well aware of the unfair treatment that exists within society after countless conversations with her aunt and it doesn’t take long before the campfire grows into a wild one. she organizes protests, walk outs, generates petitions, even ends up in front of the school board, but the headway she makes is minimal at best. their cries, their demands, their hurt .. everything falls on deaf ears and skye makes it her mission to bring about as much change as she can for her school before she’s forced to leave.

at eighteen, skye graduates high school, but she’s unsatisfied. sure, she was able to get some wins under her belt, but there’s so much work to be done and with her aunt finally running for a position in local government, there’s no time for higher education --- she has to hit the ground running.

by twenty six, her successes have grown, yet so have her battles. so has her anger. for every positive step forward, society takes a handful back, but as much as she wants to continue doing more, she has to become more. she needs experiences, she needs opportunities to be put in the faces of others, she needs to make connections, she needs to learn & grow. when she’s done with school, skye plans to aim higher than her aunt ever did. the second female governor of new jersey, perhaps? or maybe congress? who knows, maybe she’ll even run for president.

𝙱𝙴𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝙺 ;

imaginative. in order to change the world, one has to be able to think outside the box. nothing is off limits for skye and there’s no such thing as a dumb idea or question. she can often get lost in her head because she’s a fixer, but she doesn’t get so lost that she fails to follow through. if there’s something skye says she’s going to do, you can always count on her to do it. one way or another.

bold. big risk taker. truthfully, no risk is too big --- she lives under the belief that higher the risk, higher the reward. despite that, however, skye isn’t dumb by any means. she never goes all in in one place. she knows what she wants, she knows what she deserves, and she’ll make damn sure that she gets it.

vindictive. this one is simple: she wants revenge. she wants revenge for every woman who has come before her, for every woman that exists beside her. don’t get her started on this. she’ll go off on a whole rant and i’m not trying to be here long enough to write pls thx.

reckless. doesn’t think about consequences. as previously stated, if she wants something, she’ll get it. very much i am woman, hear me roar. i’m not really sure how else to explain it.

𝙰𝙳𝙳𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝙸𝙳𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂 ;

inspiration. reggie rocket ( rocket power, cartoon ), elle woods ( legally blonde, movie ), gloria steinem ( journalist & activist ), shego ( kim possible, cartoon ), and much more, i just can’t think of them all right now.

name. mekhala means goddess of the moon, so her mother gave her the nickname sky when she was pregnant with her. after the accident & she was sent to live with her aunt, it was decided to make it a bit more americanized by spelling it skye --- she prefers it that way, too.

the art of language. is fluent in english, thai, dutch, and german. her aunt felt it important for her to continue what her parents had started by teaching skye the mother tongues of each of them. she hopes to learn more because learning about different cultures and their languages would be extremely helpful in pushing her closer to her goals.

both bark & bite. whereas skye tends to be very vocal about everything, especially injustice, she doesn’t have any issue taking it further than that if necessary. this definitely plays into her recklessness because she’s 10000% the type to put herself in a dangerous situation so long as it means another is not.

okay, this is unnecessarily long especially considering there’s a lot of details i haven’t quite ironed out yet, but i’ll update everything as they come. if you’ve read any of this, pls know that ily and you deserve all that’s good in this universe for being a real one xoxoxo

#𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: … pinnedpost.

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m1lespr0w3r · 3 years

Text

Sleepy Bois Inc: Family AU

Toby (Tubbo)

Disclaimer : this au in no way is about Tubbo as an actual person; nor anybody else mentioned all of this is about their minecraft characters and is an AU, so very little of this is actually canon in-game; Schlatt is not an abusive person, Wilbur and Techno are not twins- none of them are related in real life, again, Schlatt is not abusive!

THIS IS NOT ALL OF WHAT TUBBO WILL BE IN THE AU! This is only the significant moments so far, more will be added; this all takes course over a few months.

TW FOR MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE, CRYING, SCREAMING, CHILDREN HAVING TRAUMA AND SINGLE PARENT! If you don’t want to read these things, even if they are brief; please do skip along! The mentions of child abuse, no matter how lightly mentioned,will have ‘❗️’ emojis.

Toby was taken in at the age of two or three, Phil knew Schlatt; but didn’t know much about him and they weren’t close at all, just some higher-up person at work.

Schlatt emailed Phil a request one day, as he had been promoted; he gave Phil a request.

❗️VERY LIGHTLY To take care of his son, give him a good home; he simply could not look after him, Tubbo was in a horrible place with horrible parents, but Schlatt lied and said that it was because of work, and he would come back for Tubbo when he was a child, not old but not extremely young, so it would be easier to manage the child.

Phil would be paid to look after the child to make sure he wasn’t neglected and that there was enough to look after him with, and he would be promoted and given a raise too, and Phil agreed.

❗️VERY MILD MENTION, NO VIOLENCE. Toby came along a month later, seemingly dropped off without as much as a wave goodbye from his dad; where was him mum? Why didn’t Schlatt even say anything? Toby just showed up, with a box with a tattered blanket inside; sitting inside it, he cried when he was brought inside, he squirmed when he thought he’d be touched, he just cried and cried and cried; why didn’t Schlatt tell Phil about this child’s ’temper?’

Tubbo had to share a room with Tommy, Tommy disliked that; since Toby just cried and didn’t want to speak, he just sat or laid in his box all day with that blanket which was anything but soft; Phil decided to let Tommy stay with the twins or sleep downstairs with him in the ‘can’t sleep’ or ‘nightmare’ bed, Tommy only even came in HIS room to get HIS toys or HIS stuff, it was untouched by Toby; Toby just had his box and blanket, no shoes- only one outfit, and if he really did need to change, a nicely folded outfit of Tommy’s was lying near his box for him, which Tommy messed up the perfect fold out of jealously.

❗️MILDLY THOUGHT ABOUT Wilbur, Techno and Phil tried leaving meals by the door and knocking; but the knock just made Toby cry, Phil was starting to wonder if Toby just had a bad temper... but he didn’t want to force Toby to speak or do anything; he just whispered things like, ‘There is food for you, buddy; do you want a bath?’ to the frail child with strange ears outside the door, but not much changed.

Toby only calmed down when he slept, for about 5 hours at the most; he would then wake up and hyperventilate or cry, he wet the ‘bed’ a lot too; Phil taking him out of the box to let him sleep on the bed for a while, getting a new similar box; or lining the other one with fresh blankets, washing up the tattered blanket that was barely being held together, he really wanted to patch it up; but he wanted Toby to be well settled, Toby still had trouble even getting out of the box or leaving the radius around it- Tommy didn’t dare to go over there, he thought it was contaminated; since it took a lot for Toby to have a bath- which was hypocritical, since Tommy is a tough one to persuade to have a bath too, but they’re just children, and Toby was MUCH harder to persuade.

❗️LIGHTLY TOUCHED UPON VIA TRAUMA Then there was the twins, Techno(blade) and Wilbur; Techno found it difficult to interact with Toby, Toby didn’t speak; he cried, but Techno found it easy to know when he wanted to be left alone, him not being neurotypical made it difficult to understand expression, but Toby was easy; but Toby’s crying scared him, he still left food for him though, but didn’t knock the door; as it both scared Toby and triggered him to cry loudly.

Wilbur, however; found it very sad, he was the younger twin; he wanted to help Toby, little by little; leaving him meals with his dad and brother soon escalated to him sitting outside the door with his dad, to whispering with his dad, it sounds like this happened quickly, but Toby still didn’t trust anybody, really; he trusted Techno and Phil the most, he didn’t trust Wilbur or Tommy at all- Tommy because Tommy was, well- Tommy, and because he didn’t know Wilbur; but he thought Wilbur was bad, he thought everyone was bad.

Wilbur came in one day, however; a little box in hand; which he, Techno and himself packed up- it was Wilbur’s idea, though; surprising for a pretty young child, Toby immediately shuffled back, already whining; Wilbur placed down the box gently near him and opened it, placing a neatly folded pair of clothes to one side- which were mostly yellow (some were hand-me-downs from Wilbur and Techno, and Wilbur liked yellow), there was also a nice little striped brown and yellow blanket; to the other he placed a warm goat, hat, gloves, boots and scarf as the colder months were approaching, and finally; a bee plush.

Toby didn’t understand, he still didn’t trust him too well; nothing happened though, just a five/six year old brunette smiling and placing stuff down before him; and gently stepping back and closing the door.

❗️LIGHTLY, LIGHTLY TOUCHED UPON. Toby slept with a bee plush that night; which had a wash before he woke up at about three in the morning, crying; Phil had set an alarm to wake him up now to do a house check, you never know who snuck the DS under the pillow! And, to check on Toby; so he could clean him up, the tattered blanket and now his plush; Phil was worried, what happened to this child? Of course, he’d be scared being away from home, probably, but this was continuous.

Toby, little by little, piece by piece began to trust the twins and Phil; mostly Wilbur, though, due to the gesture Wilbur did for him- of course this trust wasn’t automatic, Toby still cried a lot and cried when someone came in the room; especially Tommy, he didn’t like Tommy.

Tommy didn’t like Toby.

Toby was just a crybaby.

Right?

He had nothing to whine about.

HE was the one who took TOMMY’S room!

Phil began to sit upstairs with Toby at dinner sometimes; giving him food and sitting by that box, Wilbur sometimes did that too; Tommy didn’t want Techno to go, so Techno never went, Tommy always told him how Toby was being a big baby and had to stop crying all the time, as Techno tried to explain Toby’s probably been through a lot, Tommy never understood what he meant- until, well- an incident happened... but more about that later.

Toby warmed up to the family after a few months, he came out of his box sometimes; too, letting Phil clean him up if he had an accident again during the night, he was able to come out of Tommy’s room and walk around and play a bit with the twins, too!

❗️MORE HEAVILY TOUCHED UPON The thing that hadn’t changed however; was him crying if he heard somebody coming or him getting petrified if somebody tried to touch him, it was strange, Phil knew something was wrong- how could he be so... stupid? The signs were everywhere... Toby looking like he was bracing himself everytime somebody opened the door, getting afraid at somebody even brushing against him accidentally...-

Oh, and Toby and Tommy still didn’t get along the best; eventually, however, Tommy was persuaded to sit with Toby one day at dinner, as Toby still liked eating upstairs and only came down if he really wanted to.

Tommy tried fighting back, since he was in his rebellious phase- like refusing to go to bed; after a lot of squirming and time out threats, he went upstairs with his food, with most of it downstairs flung onto Wilbur’s jumper or onto Phil’s face- with Toby’s getting cold due to Tommy’s earlier childish protests, he opened the door.

❗️ LIGHTLY REFERENCED VIA TRAUMA Toby’s eyes immediately went glossy, clutching his bee teddy as he sat on TOMMY’S bed, his knees going up to his chest and his eyes clenching shut with his face pressed up against the teddy; Tommy then put down Toby’s dinner onto the beside table and sat on the floor with his- Toby stole his bed and now he has the floor! No fair!

Nothing was said, the two just ate their dinner in silence; well, until Tommy became a chatterbox again, as he noticed Toby’s ears- he never payed attention to Toby’s appearance, so he immediately pointed them out.

“Wow! Your ears are fluffy and pointy!”

“...Wha...?”

“Your ears! They’re really cool, why are they like that? Are you like a dinosaur from my bedtime story?”

“Nu uh.”

“Uh huh! You’re a... a... Tubbosaurus Rex!”

“Really? ROAR!”

“Yeah! Like that! You’re a Tubbosaurus!”

And a bond grew from there, a simple joke about Tubbo being a dinosaur; Tommy and Toby- or Tubbo, still had a long way to go ‘till they began best friends, but they began to play with each other, Tommy sometimes asking if Toby was going to come down the stairs, which; Toby was doing more often now than not.

The before-bedtime chats, Tommy having to be picked up and taken out so the family could sleep without anarchy; they became almost inseparable, Tommy soon even got back into his room! But, Toby never lasted a night; he always snuck down to sleep in the special bed or in his box, his box was still an awful habit of his that was far from broken; Tommy sometimes got annoyed because their bedsheets had to be changed so often.

❗️LIGHTLY TOUCHED UPON VIA TRAUMA Tommy didn’t understand, still, why was Toby so afraid? Crying so easily, getting so scared; shaking if you even got too close to him.

Until one day,

The children were all playing outside, running about and enjoying the warm day for a change; finally, a warm day- even during the cold months! The sticky sunscreen was sprayed onto a bunch of arms that day, that day wasn’t perfect; however, the boys had went inside for a break along with Phil, it was getting really really warm out there; Wilbur being irritated that the slide at the park would turn him into a lobster, the bottom of Techno’s feet burned from the metal and or plastic manholes down the street.

❗️VERY LIGHTLY REFERENCED As they played inside, instead; a bit of yelling came from the twins’ room, Tommy, who was playing with Toby got curious- so he got up to check what it was, Toby staying behind, covering his ears and ducking his head down a bit.

“Techno, let me have a turn with the sword-!”

“No, you HAD your turn!”

“Gimme, that’s not fair, you had it longer!”

“It’s still my turn though-!”

The bickering continued, with Tommy coming in and trying to take the sword off of Techno- Wilbur’s turn? Pfft- it was now Tommy’s! Techno protested to Tommy, yelling at him to get off and Wilbur trying to pull him off, saying it was still his turn, as the two other brothers denied it, Toby still in his and Tommy’s room, shuffling back a bit.

Phil had heard the commotion and ran upstairs to the squabbling siblings, pulling Wilbur off of Tommy and pulling Techno away, too; raising his voice a bit to tell them to stop fighting, and that they would have to go to the time out and with no dessert, the parent and the twins didn’t even notice Tommy leave the room to go see Toby; with the sword in-hand, seeing the distressed Toby now inside his box.

Tommy was still confused, but Toby was an easy book to understand; he was unhappy, it was too loud, Tommy said “C’mon, Tubbo! Let’s go outside and play!” Maybe that would calm him down? A good run in the garden?

Toby got up shakily, not bothering to get his boots on; he followed Tommy out of the room; down the hall and near the stairs, Wilbur then came out of his and Techno’s room, Techno and Phil trying to get him again.

“Gimme the sword, Tommy-! Dad said we can’t have it after my turn turn now!” He ran to Tommy, Phil tried picking him up with Techno sticking a tongue out at his younger-by-a-few-minutes brother; who started to squirm to get at his brother, which Phil tried to control.

“Let’s go now, Tubbo-!” Tommy said, touching Toby’s shoulder.

❗️HEAVILY IMPLIED!

No.

He touched me.

He wants to hurt me.

I don’t want to be hit.

Not again.

Never.

No.

Never ever.

No.

Don’t hit me.

I’ll behave.

I won’t fool around.

Please.

Don’t touch me.

Don’t.

Touch.

Me!

Those words filled Toby’s head, as he lost control; a shiver went down his spine from the touch, he didn’t want to be hurt again; he trusted Tommy, and Tommy was going to hurt him.

A scream escaped, “NO!” he shrieked, pushing Tommy down the stairs; everything happened so fast, everyone shooting their heads into the direction of the two very young children as Tommy shrieked; his body hitting each step sounding like hell to Phil.

“ Stay back ! “ he yelled, running down to Tommy who was on the wooden floor; unconscious, his head bleeding and a bruise on his cheek, Wilbur stood at the top of the stairs; then rushing back up to get Phil’s phone to call an ambulance.

Techno looked over at Toby, who seemed shocked; what had he done? Was Tommy really trying to hurt him? The child covered his ears and went back into his room, shutting the door.

#sleepy bois au #sleepy bois family #sleepy bois inc #dream smp techno #wilbur soot #dsmp tubbo #dsmp tommy #jschlatt

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darkh0wl · 3 years

Text

Bad dog. || Solo (ft. Morgan)

TIMING: The day after Where is your body? SUMMARY: Kyle reflects on his actions, past and present, and makes a decision to leave. CONTENT: medical blood tw (stitches and injuries), domestic abuse (implied), head trauma tw (brief mention), gun use tw (brief mention), suicide tw (implied), car accident tw (hit and run), PTSD cw (flashback) **PLEASE do not hesitate to let me know if I missed anything**

The floor was hard. Uncomfortable. Kyle slept fitfully, but he slept deeply. He awoke for the first time in over a week, to a silent mind. The silence carried the weight of his guilty conscience. The bright light of midafternoon shone across his face, and Kyle squinted and covered his eyes. When had he gone to sleep? He couldn’t properly remember. Stiffly, carefully, he sat up and began assessing the condition of his injuries. He knew that wolves healed fast in theory, but to feel it happening was something entirely different. Still, he could feel that his ribs had been broken when the car struck his side. As he stretched, he could feel the road rash that left his skin feeling taut. Kyle hissed in pain and took a moment to breathe. He didn’t want to overdo anything, but he was hungry.

For the first time, Kyle looked around and really assessed his surroundings. The care with which he’d been tucked in under a thick, warm blanket had to be Morgan’s doing. He ran his fingers along the edge of the blanket and frowned. He didn’t deserve this respect. Looking around the room, instantly he knew he wasn’t downstairs anymore, but he couldn’t clearly remember moving from the basement. Actually, come to think of it, he couldn’t clearly remember most of the night. Was that because his mind had been feral for over half of the night? Or was that because he had struck his head at some point? The way his skull seemed to pulse dully, he guessed it was the latter. Looking around, Kyle’s eyes met the cold, glassy stare of a stuffed opossum and he couldn’t hold in the startled gasp that left him. What the fuck? The possum wasn’t the end of it. There were bones, a squirrel, a rat… Where was he? Was this meant to be a thinly veiled threat? Kyle chuckled at the idea of that. Maybe he’d have ended up a pelt in this room if things had gone differently.

Kyle gritted his teeth and hoisted himself to his feet with a muffled groan. That hadn’t felt very good. Hopefully Bex was feeling better. Bex. Where was she? How was she doing? Kyle limped to the door to peek out, and realized the building he was in wasn’t actually connected to the house. It made sense; they didn’t trust him. This meant there would be no sneaking to see Bex and check on her. He sighed and turned back toward the room. Spotting a crisply folded pile of clean laundry, Kyle wandered over. On top was a note from Morgan.

“Kyle,

There's food in the mini fridge. Don't touch your bandages. Don't touch any of the tools. Please hydrate. Mind the cats if they come exploring. I'll come check on you later.

-Morgan”

He crushed the note in his fist and slammed his fist down against the counter. How could he have been so reckless? How could he have let himself get so worked up that he nearly killed someone? Not someone, Bex. He’d only just started getting to know the girl, through her own thoughts no less, and now he owed her a lifetime of apologies. He could still feel how easy it had been to sink his claws into her chest. He had liked it. He had wanted her dead. Kyle’s stomach growled and he had to shake his head to stop the thoughts of how he had nearly eaten Bex. Food. Mini fridge. Got it.

Hands shaking, Kyle pulled the clean clothes on and wandered to the mini fridge. He found pizza rolls and honestly had to smile. Had they gotten these for him, or did Morgan have the same taste in microwavables? His smile faded slowly into a scowl. He didn’t deserve this kindness. They were treating him so well and for what? Kyle wished Nell had just sunk the blade into his throat. He wished that she had just decided that he was enough of a threat to-- Again, Kyle shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. His vision swam when he did so, and his head throbbed again. Pizza rolls. Water. Eat. Drink. He just had to focus on one thing at a time and he could stay calm, stay human. But his mind kept wandering back over and over. Bex. Claws. Headlights. Bex. Claws. Headli-- The beeping of the microwave startled Kyle out of his thoughts. He took the molten pizza bites out of the microwave and immediately popped one into his mouth, burning it. Something about the pain distracted him from the growing urge to shift in his panic.

After his stomach had something in it, Kyle felt a little better. He explored the art studio, if that’s what this was meant to be, opening cabinets and drawers and ignoring Morgan’s request to not touch the tools. He found a bin of small animal bones and sat at a desk, taking them out and looking them over. It was strange to see himself in the bones in a sense. This was essentially what he was, was it not? Absently, he started forming the pile of bones into shapes and letters. First an I, then an M. Next was the S and the O, and soon, he’d spelled out “I’M SORRY.” Kyle sighed and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t tired anymore, but he didn’t want to think right now. He laid down again, curling up beneath the blanket again. He stared at the wall without seeing it until he drifted back off to sleep.

When Kyle woke back up, it was dark and he was stiff. He got up again with some effort and caught the sound of a phone vibrating across the room. Stumbling over to the counter, he realized it was his phone. Bex was texting him. What should he say? Should he respond to her? Would she hate him? All she’d said was “hi,” and he was losing his mind about it. He wanted to tell her that he was glad she was alive and he couldn’t believe it. He wanted to tell her he was sorry and he didn’t expect or want her forgiveness. He wanted to tell her to leave him alone; not for his sake, but for hers. He wanted to tell her he was dangerous. If Bex could tell how upset he was, she didn’t show it. Was she upset with him? She had to be. She would be crazy if she wasn’t. Bex was so level-headed with him; so calm.

But then Nell fucking Vural was texting him, and Kyle saw red. How dare she call him irresponsible when she didn’t know how hard it had been to stay calm with Bex in his head. The audacity of Nell to call out his relationship with his mother. What did she know about his family life? Nell hadn’t even known Kyle back then; they weren’t friends in high school. Kyle paced back and forth across the art studio, limping the whole way. His gut coiled with seething anger and he had to focus on breathing steadily. How dare Nell suggest he wanted to hurt Bex? How dare she call him irresponsible!

Kyle’s fist connected with the wall before he had thought about what he was doing. The drywall crumbled away and he had to yank his hand back out of the wall. His knuckles were split and bloody and he cradled his hand against his chest, sinking to the floor. Tears pricked at his eyes and he had to blink them away. The pain in his hand grounded him, but it also reminded him of a time when he was young and his mother would kiss his pains away and hug him so tightly that he forgot he’d even been hurt. That was a long time ago. Before he disappointed them with everything he did. He couldn’t stop the tears, as they finally fell. His grades slipped, he hung out with the wrong people, his parents fell out of love. When they divorced, they had argued over who he’d live with; it wasn’t because they had both wanted custody, but because he’d been a problematic child and neither of them wanted custody. When he was attacked by that wolf in the woods, Kyle had almost convinced himself that this would somehow bring his parents back together. They were both worried about him, so maybe it would make things better. It hadn’t.

That first moon, Kyle wasn’t even aware he was a werewolf yet. It had been shortly before his dad moved to Castle Rock. His parents were arguing in the living room while Kyle’s body ripped itself apart. God, had it hurt. He didn’t remember attacking his mom; he wasn’t in control of himself that night. But he could clearly remember his dad firing a gun at him. He’d missed and Kyle couldn’t tell if it had been on purpose or not. Kyle woke the next morning in the woods; cold, naked, and scared out of his mind. When his parents found him, they told him they’d figure this out together. His mother had had rows of stitches on the outside of both of her arms. Defensive wounds, clearly made by claws.

Kyle curled in on himself on the floor, tightly gripping his middle as he shook with his sobs. He didn’t know how long he sat there, letting himself cry, but he had to get out of there. He had to go. He didn’t want to do that again, not to anyone, and the longer he stayed here, the higher the chance of a repeat. Through his tears, Kyle sent Bex a text, promising to pay for the damages. He grabbed his things, a water bottle, and the bag of pizza bites, and Kyle stumbled into the darkness; barefoot, limping, and feeling more alone than he could remember feeling in his life.

#please read tw carefully <3 #wickedswriting #solo

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noodlesuseshisnoodle · 3 years

Text

Secrets

previous - masterpost - next

Virgil almost accidentally lets slip a huge secret of his, so Logan convinces the group to all tell a secret about themselves

Tws/cws: past miscarriage mention, past pregnancy mention, past birth mention, past drowning mention, past near death experience mentions, past death mention, past ABA therapy mention, scars mention, past torture mention, brief genital mention, brief sex mention (no, nothing like that happens, and no nothing in detail),

------

Early May

Janus had invited all the others to their house, which was a secluded medium sized house surrounded by trees. Patton and Logan got there first, since Patton still didn’t have a car and Logan was willing to drive him. Janus let the pair in and gestured at the large leather sofa.

“Ooooh, nice place.” Patton commented as he came in. It was nicely decorated and a lot of the stuff did look expensive, but it also looked lived in, something that Patton appreciated from any home.

Thank you, Janus signed, a gesture that was almost like blowing a kiss, but rather than putting their hand to their lips, they put their hand to their chin.

Patton seemed to understand the sign. “You’re welcome!” he said as he sat down.

Logan nodded in approval, he liked to give positive feedback, even for the simplest signs, then sat down and looked at the painting over on one wall in the living room, it was abstract and Logan was trying to figure it out.

Janus took off one of their gloves, snapped for Logan’s attention, and then signed You good? They also mouthed the question as they signed, since people seemed to understand better when they did that.

“Oh, yes I’m fine. I’m just trying to figure out that picture over there.” He pointed at it.

Janus also pointed and mouthed That one?, looking a bit confused.

“Yes, that one. I don’t understand.”

Janus stared at it for a moment before shrugging.

“Fair enough.” Logan nodded and went back to looking at it.

Janus went to get the door when the doorbell rang again. This time, it was the twins.

“Snakey!” Remus beamed and exclaimed and hugged the much taller person.

They patted his back a couple times before he let go. Roman nodded and waved. “Hey.”

Janus nodded back and let them in.

“No Panic! At the Everywhere?” Roman asked.

“No Virge yet.” Patton said, wondering how many nicknames Roman had up his sleeve.

Almost as if on cue, the doorbell rang and Janus went to let Virgil in.

“Well, speak of the devil and he shall come.” Roman said and smirked.

“Do you ever not talk about me, Princey?”

Roman stared in shock. “How did you know that’s once of my nicknames?”

“I didn’t. I just follow you on instagram. You have a ton of pictures in that prince costume.”

“It was a very kind gift.” Roman made a face at Virgil, who chuckled.

“Okay, you two, I think that’s enough bickering.” Patton said.

Roman sighed a bit. “Fine, Padre.”

Virgil glanced at Patton. “Hey, speaking of, you’re at like four months now, right?”

“Oh… uh… no. Not anymore. Car accident.” Patton looked a bit awkward.

“You okay?” Virgil felt like he messed up by bringing it up.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually feel a lot better.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Kinda know how that- nevermind.” Virgil glanced around at the others, cursing himself for almost spilling one of his biggest secrets.

Patton stared at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“It's nothing, okay?” He looked away and tried to not get red with frustration.

Logan frowned and then got an idea. “What if… we all tell each other one of our secrets. What we all tell each other stays secret among us. I’ll go first. The reason I know sign language is because I was selectively mute as a child and my deaf aunt taught me.”

Roman and Remus looked at each other and nodded. “When we were kids, Remus went to ABA therapy because it was the only therapy our insurance would pay for for him, our parents didn’t know how bad it was until we were twelve and he had a huge meltdown because he was severely repressed and everything was too much. He broke my arm pretty badly.” Roman said and lifted his left arm and showed a scar from where the bone had gone through his skin. “Couldn’t write for shit while I had that cast.”

“Yeah… still sorry about that Robro.” Remus said as he rubbed the back of his head.

Janus was writing, since they didn’t know how to explain their secret in sign, when they were done, they passed the notepad around. When I was three, I drowned, I even died for a few minutes, scared my brother half to death and then he never let me swim for the longest time after that.

Patton looked at the others after they had all read Janus’ secret. “The Catholic school I went to kept trying to force me to write with my right hand. The nuns always told me ‘Write right with your right.’ Never told my parents, but I did get pretty good at writing with both hands. So did Thomas.”

Logan looked at everyone. “Are we all left handed?” There were some looks exchanged and everyone ended up nodding. “Well, alright then.”

Virgil sighed. “I guess it’s my turn, huh.” He took a breath and collected himself. “I’ve told you guys that I almost dropped out of high school my senior year, right?” Virgil looked around as everyone nodded. “Okay, well” he took another breath. “The reason is because I… I found out I was pregnant in July. I was five months, so there really was nothing I could have done but carry that kid to term. I couldn’t even tell the guy I had been with since he moved out of state in May. I lost contact with him. I honestly was really terrified since I was seventeen, but my parents did help me a lot. I had her on November twenty-second and she went to a good family. They give her what I know I never would have been able to give her.”

“Is she a Valentine's baby?” Logan asked.

“I just said she was born in November.”

“February is a popular month to conceive.”

“Oh Jesus.” Virgil sighed. “Okay, fine. It was Valentines. I know it’s stupid, but we were stupid teenagers and one thing led to another.”

“Virgil, I get it. It happens.” Logan said.

“Wait, five months? That’s when you found out?” Roman asked. “Don’t people usually know before then?”

Virgil sighed. “Yeah, but it’s better than my mom. She didn’t know until she had me. On a plane. In Virginia’s airspace. Anyone wanna guess what my deadname is?”

Logan looked at Virgil. “Virginia. And your birthday is December nineteenth.”

“Excuse me?” Virgil looked pretty shocked. “What the fuck Sherlock voodoo are you pulling?”

“Relax, my Dad was an ob/gyn. He delivered you.”

“Okay, but why do you know that?”

“My Dad liked to tell the more interesting stories. He also delivered Janus. I’ve heard about you two pretty much every year on your birthdays, and honestly never needed to know that much about how you were born.”

“Jesus Christ.” Virgil sighed. “Don’t tell me anything about my mom’s cootch, okay? And if he delivered my kid, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

“That’s fair.”

“The damn epidural didn’t even work. And they had to stitch me up after.”

“That’s normal. The perineum often gets torn during the process.”

“That’s normal?!?!? Nope, nope, nope, nope.” He really didn’t like that that was normal, though it did make him feel better that it wasn’t some weird thing.

“So… What I’m hearing is: be glad that I’m not having that baby?”

“It’s a perfectly normal process, Patton, though if you want to be glad about it, feel free to.” Logan commented.

Virgil sighed. “I mean… I don’t remember much of the pain, like I remember waking up in pain and realizing I was in labor and I remember that moment when I wanted to die because the pain was so bad. I squeezed my mom’s hand the whole way through, and accidentally broke her hand. My bad."

"Wait, you died?" Roman blurted out as he pointed at Janus.

Janus sighed and started writing again. Yes, I did die. But I got better.

"Was that a Monty Python joke?" Remus asked.

Janus nodded. I did that a lot as a child.

"What? Die?" Logan looked a bit confused.

They sighed a bit. No, I almost died a lot.

Logan thought for a moment. "Wait… when you were born, no one was sure if you were actually alive and while they were trying to get you to be responsive, your mother died. I remember my dad talking about how stressful that was, trying to make sure a newborn is alive while the mom is sickly. Virgil, on the other hand, according to my dad, was a screamer."

"I bet I was fun on that plane," Virgil muttered. "People love screaming babies on planes."

"I don't like planes. Too much loud. And like crunchy loud. Not good." Remus said

"Crunchy?" Logan asked.

"The sound feels crunchy to me. I don't like it."

"Okay then"

Janus blinked a bit. So you're telling me that right out of the womb, no one knew if I'd live?

Logan nodded. "It seems you have been defying death your whole life."

I stopped dying so much after I was like twelve. I had an appendectomy. Then, like a month later I had surgery to repair an umbilical and an inguinal hernia that I didn't know I had until after they opened me up for my appendix.

"Ouch." Roman said. He stretched a bit and accidentally showed some of his scars from being tortured.

"Daaamn." Virgil leaned forward. "Those are deep."

Roman squeaked and pulled his shirt down. "I know."

"Hey, dude, it's okay. Pretty sure all of us in this group have scars. Here, look." Virgil lifted his shirt and looked at his chest and abdomen. "Those are my top surgery scars." He pointed at the ones on his chest and then moved to the ones on his abdomen. "These are from when May stabbed me." Virgil pulled his pants down a bit, just enough to show a scar. "That's from bottom surgery."

“Wait, what are those?” Roman touched the pale lines on Virgil’s side.

Virgil glanced at them. "Oh, those are stretch marks." He pulled his shirt down.

"Why do you have stretch marks?"

"Because I was pregnant? What part of that flew over your head?"

"I just didn't think you would have gotten that big since you only found out at five months."

"Dude, you wouldn't believe how big I got after I found out. If I didn't find out then, I would have figured it out pretty soon." Virgil shucked off his hoodie, and rolled up his sleeve. "It's covered with a tattoo, but that's also from bottom surgery."

"Why do you have a scar on your arm from bottom surgery?" Roman asked.

"Skin graft. That's where they usually take the skin for the dick."

"Ohhhh, but isn't that skin a different color than a natural one?"

"That's why some guys get micropigmentation. I'm not doing that."

Logan thought about how a lot of Virgil’s stories lined up with his own high school experience and decided to try something. “Virgil?”

“Yeah?” He looked at Logan.

“Don’t die while I’m gone.” He said in Afrikaans.

Virgil looked shocked for a moment. “Okay, white boy. Still can’t,” he made a sound kind of like hawking spit. “right.” He replied, those were the last things they had said to each other before Logan had moved away.

“Uhhhh… what just happened? Also, Virgil, you're white too.” Roman asked

“Alex?” Logan whispered

“L?” Virgil whispered back, before glancing at Roman. “I’m not American white though. South African.”

“Ohhhh, these two have a history.” Roman muttered, realizing that something was clicking between the two of them.

Patton looked back and forth between the pair.

“Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath. “Janus, is there somewhere Logan and I can talk?”

Janus nodded and got up, motioning for the two to follow them. They led the two to a room and signed No sex. They didn’t know the actual sign for sex, so they made their left hand an “O” shape and stuck their right index finger through it, hoping that Logan and Virgil got what they meant, also mouthing the phrase.

“No, we’re not doing that. We just need to talk. You can go now.” Virgil said

Janus nodded and left. As soon as they were out of earshot Logan looked at Virgil. “We have a child?”

Virgil nodded a bit. “Her name is Erin.”

“Oh my god.” Logan didn’t really know what to say.

“Here, sit down. I think I should tell you the whole story, okay?”

#we are not broken #we are not broken sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #roman sanders sides #remus sanders sides #virgil sanders sides #patton sanders sides #logan sanders sides #janus sanders sides #enby janus sanders sides

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red-sterling · 4 years

Text

hello it is angst time (brief tw for mention of suicide)

The worst part is that he saw Red leave.

Green watched him go. It wasn't really a passive decision necessarily, no, he didn't stand his ground and watch him run, it was nothing like the time Red watched Green sprint away from the Indigo Plateau when he lost, it wasn't just a scene played out on the stage of the world. It was a chase, and because it was a chase, Green hesitates to say he saw Red leave. He didn't truly see him flying away but he felt it, he felt Red getting further away, one Charizard chasing another, and, and, and fucking -

Green has always trained his Charizard to attack and to endure. Red trained his Charizard to make quick hits and to dodge.

Red was faster.

"Hurricane, now."

"Pidgeot!!"

Red was faster.

Charizard sits beside Green, tail swishing lazily against the grass. Green is focused only on Pidgeot, though, watching the bird perform the same attack over and over and over, he can see how the bird's feathers quiver against the wind, hears how the wind whistles around him with each attack. He's been calling Hurricane for almost an hour, and he's sure, oh he's sure it's getting to be exhausting, Pidgeot's accuracy is failing him but the accuracy isn't really Green's focus now.

Red was faster.

"I see you're still training, hm?"

It's Lance, of course it's Lance. Green didn't even hear his Dragonite land out here, didn't hear the wings flapping over Pidgeot's own. Sometimes the world is just too far outside of him. It's funny, Red had told Green before that sometimes the world is too close to him, he hears footsteps approach a door before he hears the door latch shudder and turn before he hears someone entering a room, but Green can just envelop himself in his training and suddenly everything else is gone.

Red is gone.

"I'm busy," is Green's curt reply. "What do you need?"

Lance hesitates. "Well, I came to ask you the same."

"Nothing. I didn't call you." Pidgeot hesitates, looks back at Green. "Keep going."

"Geot..."

"Go on." No answer. Green sighs. "You're not feelin' it anymore?"

"You're pressing him harder than usual, Green."

"I know. We're changing out training regimen a bit." Pidgeot caws, flaps his wings, then just settles down where he sits, fluffing himself out comfortably. "Trying to, anyway."

"You may be shifting gears too fast for them. You haven't been training in quite some time."

He hasn't had anyone to train with, that's why it's been awhile. Red hasn't been around.

"It's fine. We picked right back up where we were and now we're moving forward." Pause. "My team's not that weak, Lance. I might not be a Champion anymore," ow, ow, ow, "but that doesn't mean you can look down on us. Stop worrying so much."

"I'm not worried about your Pokémon, Green."

Green finally turns to face Lance, glares at him. "If you're coming here to mock me, go away. I don't want any part of it."

"That's not it."

"Then don't insult me. Tell me what you want, or leave."

"I want to know if you're okay, Green."

Green turns back to look at Pidgeot. "If that's all you wanted to hear, you can go. I'm busy."

"I won't leave until hear an honest answer from you."

Green does not answer. Red wouldn't have answered either.

It kills him inside, parallels that he draws between himself and the missing Champion. He's torn, he's furious and he's miserable and he's lost lost lost without Red by his side. It feels like there's nothing worth training for, nothing worth chasing. He knows he could beat the Elite Four, he could beat Lance right now if he pushed himself, he already knows what he can do and now there's nothing else he even wants to do.

He wants to battle Red again.

"Green."

"Go away."

"I don't like that you're not answering me."

"Well I don't like that you're bothering me. Fuck off."

"Green."

"What do you want from me?! I don't wanna talk about it!"

It.

It could refer to literally anything in this series of events, this never-ending cycle of misfortune. It could refer to his loss, loss at the Indigo League or loss of his parents or loss of his Raticate or loss of sleep or loss of hope or loss of Red Red Red - and it's always going to be about Red, everything is about Red, Red who wanted to just be Red and not this prodigy of a child, Red who would hate that people are still talking about him now. He left for a reason and, and it kills Green that he's not even fully sure why. It must have been a mix of pressure from the media and other trainers and the Champion responsibilities and the why don't you talk, tell us, say something about that, but Green still - still - he never got a clear answer and he doesn't know what he could've done to have convinced Red to stay and, and...

Red was faster.

Now Red is gone.

"Green - "

"Just get out of my hair already. We're not doing this today."

"You say that every time I come to check up on you, Green." Pause. "You've been saying that for months."

"At least I'm talking this time. Isn't that enough?"

Red was faster and when Green lost track of him he'd screamed his name until his throat was raw and his voice was gone. It felt like Red was a phantom stuck in his throat for weeks, Green had never stopped yelling Red Red where are you get back here you're so stupid where did you go come back long enough for his voice to recover.

The search was officially called off two months after Red disappeared. Green hadn't spoken for two weeks after that.

There was never an official ruling, but there were rumors. Green heard all of them. He's Red's rival, of course he heard them all, of course everyone asked him what he thought, asked if he believed the rumors that he ran away to Kalos to he got mauled and eaten by a Pokémon to he went off training and died in an accident to he killed himself to, to -

Red could be dead. The worst part is that Green will never know.

"Fuck..." It's a breathed curse, shuddering, but Green keeps his composure for now. He takes a deep breath, steadies himself, cuts the world away from him, keeps his heart as far from the world as Red is from him. "I'm fine, Lance. I'm just bored."

"Bored." he hesitates. "I see."

"...you're holding back."

"I'm not sure if this is the best time to ask this of you, Green, but," and of course Lance is still going to ask him anyway, "we do need a new gym leader for Viridian City."

Green should be excited at the offer. His chest just hurts.

"I'll do it, if that's what you want me to do."

"No, I want to know if that's what you want. You've seemed restless, and you'd be plenty strong enough to hold the position, so..." He hesitates. "That, and you already turned down the Champion's position."

Green might be the first one in history who's ever done it, looked at the throne and the crown that were offered to him and said no, thanks, I don't want it, but it's because it's too close to Red and Red is too fast and any time Green walks into that room his heart feels like his heart is rotting.

"...I'll do it."

"Do you want to?"

"It's better than doing nothing, I guess."

"That doesn't answer my question, Green. Do you want to be Viridian City's gym leader?"

"It's better than running away and not telling anyone where you're going and leaving them to have wonder why you left and if you're still alive or not."

Red was faster. He would've even been faster to start crying here but he would be faster to get over his feelings, too, at the very least he'd be able to mask himself more readily, he's used to breaking down and catching his breath but Green doesn't quite have that ability, doesn't have any of the abilities that Red has, he has - he's - he can't - fuck -

"Green..."

Green sinks to the ground, sobs, doesn't care if Lance is watching him cry because he's seen him in a worse state of disarray than this. Pidgeot makes his way over to Green and rubs his feathers against Green's face, sponges the tears away, preens his hair in a feeble attempt to comfort his trainer. Lance kneels beside him and keeps a steady hand on his back and says nothing.

Charizard leaves his head low. Red's Charizard was trained to be faster and yet Green had trusted that his own would've kept up at the time.

Green hasn't flown on Charizard since that night.

Nothing more is said until Green finally catches his breath. His syntax sounds as if he hasn't just been sobbing but the quiver in his voice betrays him. So too does Lance's voice betray the formality to the words, matters of appointing him a gym leader said in the same tone as a parent comforting a child, because he knows Green won't accept that tenderness directly because Green feels he doesn't deserve it because he let Red get away because Red was faster -

When the conversation ends, Green doesn't bother getting up. He lets himself fall asleep on the ground, looking up at the stars, wondering if Red is looking at the same sky.

(He's not. Red is looking at the calcified roof of a cave on Mt Silver. The snow clouds over the mountain would hide the stars from view anyway.)

When Green wakes up the next day, he rides Pidgeot home. He wonders if Red is still flying around on Charizard. He wonders if Red would still outrun him.

(He wouldn't. If Green came to him now Red wouldn't even move because he's too tired to face anything, too tired to face anyone.)

He wonders if Red is lonely.

(Red wonders the same about Green.)

#this isnt polished enough for ao3 but here you go #sterling content

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choisanghee · 3 years

Text

( LEE SUNG KYUNG. SHE/HER. CISFEMALE ) Did I just see ( CHOI "JIANA" SANGHEE )? This ( TWENTY EIGHT ) year old ( PRESCHOOL TEACHER ) has been living in Chicago for ( A YEAR ). Some say that they are ( BENEVOLENT and GENTLE ) as well as ( TIMID and RESERVED ). If they had a theme song, some might say that it would be ( RESCUE BY YUNA ). All I know is that I can’t wait to see what they bring to the Windy City.

tw car accident & murder (just a brief mention!) // @hocstarters

her basics

Birth Name: Choi Sanghee

English Name: Jiana

Gender: Cisfemale

Place of Birth: Incheon, Korea

Date of Birth: December 18, 1992

Age: 28

Parents: Choi Jiho & Kwon Dahyun

Education: Bachelor in Early Childhood Education (2014), Seoul National University, Summa Cum Laude

Occupation: Preschool Teacher

Positive Traits: Benevolent & Gentle

Negative Traits: Timid & Reserved

her background

Fairytales are more than true

Choi Jiho & Kwon Dahyun did not have it easy growing up, not when they were raised in a home that they did not feel safe or comfortable in. However, they both managed to pull through and became well-established in their chosen fields. Jiho worked as a businessman and Dahyun as a medical device representative. In the year 1989, the two felt financially stable as individuals and finally got married after almost ten years of being together.

Jiho and Dahyun were set on creating a happy, safe and loving home not just for each other but for their children as well. and that kind of home was exactly what they gave their only daughter, Sanghee. She brought a different kind of joy to the Choi’s life and despite her parents having a busy schedule because of their careers, she was provided with all the love and attention that she can get. Her home may not have been perfect but it was close.

not because they tell us that dragons exist

Sanghee was raised to make their own decisions and do whatever they wanted to do as long as they would be responsible while doing it. She made the most out of that freedom and were able to balance having a good academic life & a good social life. In terms of her career choice, despite the pressure to take on a big role in her father’s business company that her grandparents made her feel, she followed her parents advice and pursue her passion.

It took one day during her sophomore year of highschool to make her figure out what exactly she was passionate about. She was about to walk through the front door of her house after school when she overheard her neighbor stressing about having no one to watch over his child. Wanting to help him out, she was quick to offer to do it and after doing a good job at that, she has been the go-to of her neighbors when they're in need of a babysitter. Her part-time job led her to finding out that she wanted to spend the rest of her life not just watching little kids but teaching them as well. That is why she was quick to pick Early Childhood Education as her undergraduate degree.

In the year 2015, just a few months after graduating college, she passed the licensure exam was offered a job. As the years passed, her career flourished and she has become a well-loved preschool teacher that she was offered numerous opportunities by other schools. At the age of 25, she was becoming one of the best in her field and has finally found the school that she was very happy to work in.

People describe Sanghee as a very fortunate girl because in terms of her love life, she was successful as well for she was engaged to Dongyeol, her boyfriend for ten years and one of Korea’s most notorious homicide detectives. There was no question that her fiancé's career was not the safest one and that it was understandable why she was afraid of what would happen to him. Unfortunately, in the year 2018, her fear became a reality. Dongyeol was close to unveiling the truth about a high-profile case that he was working on when he was killed through a hit and run.

but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten,

Her fiancé’s sudden death took a major toll on her but while it was difficult to carry on, she refused to let those who had her fiancé killed have control over her life. She focused her energy on grieving and on her career, all while taking care of herself because she knew that that's what Dongyeol would have wanted her to.

In the year 2020, Sanghee made the decision of packing her things and moving to Chicago. You see, she & Dongyeol travelled a lot together throughout their ten years of being together but it was the windy city that the two planned to move to after they’d get married. He may not be around anymore and she might not have a ring on her finger but she was set on putting that plan into action anyway.

She has lived in Chicago for a year now and she is making a name for herself in the field of education on this side of the world. She dreams of establishing her own preschool one day but for now, her focus is to try and actually live her life despite being very afraid of what the universe has planned for her.

and Sanghee is not going to stop until all the dragons in her life are beaten.

some tidbits about her

Upon moving to Chicago, Sanghee chose the name “Jiana” as her English name. She prefers to be called by her given name but has no problem with being called by her English name.

She is a pretty friendly and warm person but keeps to herself most of the time.

She's a gentle and sensitive soul. Her parents even call her fragile at times but she's trying her best to be independent.

She gets scared easily but she's trying her best to change that.

Because of what she’s learned and seen while working and because someone killed her fiancé, she believes that there are a lot of cruel people out there so trusting people is something she doesn’t do often.

If she cares about a person though, she will do everything in her power to protect and fight for them. There’s no such thing as too much effort when it comes to them.

She’s pretty open about her feelings, but she only lets a few people in.

She loves to stargaze. It’s her go-to activity that helps her relax despite everything.

#hocintros #credit for the graphic template goes to @translunaer ❤️

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babsxkean · 4 years

Text

the sea of my own doubt

Endlessly, For you I'll always wait, Caught in the waves of hesitation, Lost in the sea of my own doubt, Endlessly, For you I'll always wait, For you I'll always wait

who: barbara kean-gordon, carmine falcone, featuring mentions of @twxcethetrouble

when: june 14, 2020 (barbara’s 43rd birthday)

where: carmine falcone’s mansion, the kean-gordon family home

barbara asks carmine falcone for a favor, only to find a surprise birthday present (or two) when she gets home.

tw: death, brief allusion to body issues

On the morning of her 43rd birthday, Barbara Kean-Gordon woke up, fed and dressed her infant son, and left him with a babysitter.

She drove out of town, to the elegant manors flung out over the acreage that remained between the city limits and the state border. Pulling up to a pair of wrought iron gates, she didn’t have to stop -- they opened smoothly for her, because he knew she was coming.

The winding, oak-lined driveway was familiar, not only because she had visited this particular house before, but also because it reminded her of the one she had grow up in. Her family also had deep roots in Gotham, going back to the founding of the city. She had never quite known where their wealth had come from, at first with the innocence of a child accepting her world for what it was, and later simply due to the fact that she became increasingly sure it was better not to know.

She -- finally -- reached the end of the driveway, and before she could open the door herself, a uniformed butler had materialized and done so for her. “He’s expecting me?” Barbara pressed, because in these circumstances it certainly didn’t hurt to be sure, and the man nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He led her inside, and as they crossed the marble entryway, Barbara felt, fleetingly and faintly, like herself for the first time in days. There was something about the sound of heels on a hard floor that she had always loved. It made her feel powerful and in control.

She was shown into a parlor near the back of the house. A swinging door beyond must have led to the kitchen -- she could smell something baking, a touch of cinnamon swirling through the air. The butler pulled out a chair at a table by the window, and she sat. In the blink of an eye, there was a cup of tea in front of her, complete with a small pitcher of milk, a bottle of honey and a sugarbowl.

“My goodness, you’re expedient,” she murmured. The butler only smiled blandly before withdrawing from the room.

She was alone only for a few moments before the swinging door opened, and Carmine Falcone filled the doorway.

He still cut an imposing figure, even at his age, she thought. Tall and broad-shouldered, his solemn face enlivened by bright blue eyes, he was impeccably dressed, as always. She wondered if he had put on the beautiful, three-piece Italian suit just for her, or if this was just what he wore every day.

“Barbara,” he said, and reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “I am so very sorry for your loss, my dear. I knew your parents for many years, and as for Jim…”

Her chest tightened, and Carmine gently placed her hand back on the tabletop. “He made many mistakes in defense of this city, but they came from truly noble intentions,” he said. “There are few good men left in Gotham, and I believe he was one of them.”

She glanced down, nodding. “I think so, too.”

Carmine slid into the seat across from her, taking up much more of his chair than she did of hers. “Now,” he said, as the butler reappeared with a cup of tea and its accoutrements for him. “What can I do for you?”

Barbara took a deep breath, looking up at him. “I want back in,” she said softly. Carmine’s expression didn’t flicker at all from its polite interest. “I don’t expect to get my territory back, but I was hoping…” She swallowed and straightened up, lifting her chin; at that, she thought she saw a ghost of a smile. “I was hoping you had a place for me in your organization. Or if you could help smooth the way for me.”

She waited as he fixed his tea, stirred it with a delicate silver spoon, and took a sip. “You gave up the life for your baby,” he said. “For your family. Why do you want to return to it?”

I want to watch this city burn, she thought. I want to watch its people suffer for what they took from my family.

The city of Gotham had only ever caused the Gordons pain. From Jim’s father dying in a car accident that may not have been an accident at all, to Babs suffering at the hands of the Joker, to Jim losing his life defending Gotham one last time, it was like the city marked them out for special disfavor. Not to mention how little the GCPD or the population at large had ever appreciated Jim, had ever appreciated everything he had done for them. His victories had never been enough for them, and his defeats had always been written large in their collective memory.

But Carmine Falcone, as inexplicably as her husband had, loved this city. So she knew she couldn’t tell him that. “The only way to protect the people you love in Gotham is if you have enough power,” she said. And even then, that wasn’t a guarantee. But it was better than nothing.

“That’s true,” Carmine agreed.

She waited while he took another sip of his tea, his eyes on hers over the rim of the porcelain cup. He set the cup down, dabbed at his lips with a napkin, and reached across again for her hand. “Gotham is in tumult,” he said. As if she wasn’t well aware of this. “But I will do what I can for you. Territory is up for grabs that normally wouldn’t be. I will pull some strings in the coming days, and see what I can land.”

He squeezed her hand before letting go. “And if you need me for anything else, please, don’t hesitate to ask,” he added. “Not just territory. I’ve always admired you, Barbara Kean-Gordon. You have the strength and the steel to do what needs to be done. That’s a rare quality.”

She managed a faint smile and stood up. Carmine stood, too, putting his hand lightly on the small of her back as he walked her to the door, where the butler had appeared yet again to guide her out. She and Lurch were halfway across the front hall before Carmine called out.

“Oh, and Barbara? Happy birthday.”

In the end, it turned out to be much simpler than that.

She had told Carmine that she hadn’t expected her old territory back, and that had been true. Truth be told, she really hadn’t given Old Gotham very much thought -- she’d assumed that she would be handed a new, inconsequential parcel of territory to babysit, and she would have to work from there. But as long as she had to wait for Carmine to pull his strings, she figured she might as well try.

Not to mention, it was on her way home, and she had no desire to go back to that empty house, especially on her birthday.

Barbara had gone in expecting some resistance, if not an argument, but to her surprise, Twice -- she assumed it was Twice rather than Ronni, since Twice always spoke to her like they were enemies on a teen soap opera -- had just flippantly agreed.

She’d opened her mouth to ask why Twice was being so agreeable, before she came to the conclusion that, much like the origin of her family wealth, it was probably better not to know.

She left with the feeling that she’d just been given a present, one that she wanted, but one that came with a price that she herself would have to pay for. With a shake of her head, she climbed back into her car and finally headed home. If something was finally going right for her after the past week, she shouldn’t question it.

After she picked up Peter from the babysitter, she drove home. She caught a glimpse of something on the front stoop as she pulled into the driveway, and her heart skipped a beat for a moment -- this being Gotham, and this being their family, her first thought was some sort of bomb.

But as she peered through the windshield, hand on the driveshaft to reverse back down the driveway, she realized they were flowers.

With Peter’s car seat dangling from the curve of her arm, she bent down to pick up the flowers with her free hand. Lilies, her favorite, tied together with a pink ribbon, with a card tucked among the long green stems.

She left the flowers on the front hall table as she took Peter back to his nursery, changing his diaper and putting him down for a nap. There wasn’t any sign of her daughter, so she neglected to start dinner; if Babs came home, they could always order takeout, and if not, Barbara had virtually no appetite anymore.

(She tried to ignore the small, bitter flicker of pleasure that gave her, thinking of how her mother would -- would have -- approved.)

Eventually, she returned to the flowers, expecting them to be from Oswald, or Zatanna, or perhaps Lee, if any of them had remembered. She slipped the card free and opened the envelope, idly trying to recall where the vase was, when the sight of familiar handwriting made her breath catch in her throat.

Happy Birthday, Barbara!

I know I’ve been really busy with work lately. I know I’m always busy with work. I’m sorry.

Let’s go out for dinner tonight when I come back from work. Even if I’m not up to it, just bug me until I agree again. I’m writing this a couple weeks in advance, just to make sure you get it for today.

I’ve never really been great at this romantic stuff but I hope you know I love you.

Love,

Jim

She put her free hand to her mouth, her lips trembling, and she wasn’t sure if they were trying to frame a sob or form a smile. There would be no dinner, of course, no begging him until he agreed. But she knew, if he had been here, they would have gone -- perhaps they would have brought the children, perhaps it would have been just the two of them, but they would have gone. He had never missed her birthday before, from 16 to 42.

Even when he’d been in the army, she remembered, both years he had managed to call her, and they had eaten dinner together over the phone.

I hope you know I love you.

“I know,” she said, her voice so soft that it was almost inaudible. “I know.”

He had loved her more than she deserved, and yet, at the same time -- the disloyal thought came to her for only a moment before she pushed it away, but it came nonetheless: not enough. He hadn’t loved her, or their family, enough to put them first.

If it had been her, she would have dispatched her men, no matter how thinly spread that made them, and then she would have found her family. She would have gathered them to her, and made sure they were safe. She and Jim would have weathered this storm together, keeping themselves and their children out of harm’s way. And let the rest of the city and its woebegone inhabitants be damned.

But Jim lacked the selfishness, or the self-preservation skills depending on your point of view, that Barbara had always held in spades. She cared predominantly about those in her inner circle, and those outside of it could be left to fend for themselves, or fail to do so, if the circumstances dictated. By contrast, Jim thought he could save everyone, and if that meant sacrificing himself, she suspected that was all the better for him.

She gave a hard shake of her head as if to clear it, and she took the flowers into the kitchen, carefully tucking the card into her pocket. Digging around in the cabinets, she found the vase and began to fill it with water.

The sound of the water splashing around in the crystalline throat of the vase almost drowned out the text alert on her phone. Turning the faucet off with one hand, she reached into her pocket with the other, frowning in confusion when she saw an unknown number.

[text: Unknown]: Next year, I’ll be there. Have faith. Even in the darkest times, there will be light.

It took her a moment to understand what she was reading, and the implications of the words. She sat down hard at the kitchen table, and it was frankly only serendipitous that she had been standing by a chair; if she hadn’t been, she would have gone right to the floor.

(Like she had that night, when Harvey Bullock had called her to tell her -- his voice choked -- that Jim was either missing, or -- )

She had presumed dead, even though there had been no body, because there was no way Jim would have gone this long without coming home to them. Not unless he couldn’t come home.

But maybe, she thought, staring at the text message -- it didn’t occur to her until it was too late to try texting the number back, and by then it was out of service -- she had been right, in a way. He couldn’t come home.

Yet.

He was out there, somewhere, and she hoped he was somewhere safe, away from all of this. She didn’t know why he’d had to leave, but she knew it must be to keep them -- herself, Babs and Peter -- out of harm’s way.

Perhaps the Joker had forced his hand somehow. She would figure it out later, because it mattered; but for right now, she focused on the fact that the love of her life was not gone. At least not forever.

The text message she sent in return, too late, was something that she hoped he knew, even if her words didn’t reach him.

I’ll be waiting. I believe in you.

#misc post #misc post: self para #death tw #body image tw

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monstaxvibes · 5 years

Text

Moon Is You

with: Jooheon & Changkyun

genre: angst, fluff

count: 2.5k

brief: After a car accident in their teen years left Jooheon dealing with some trauma, Changkyun, guilt-ridden, left. Now that Changkyun is older, his sense of responsibility and loyalty brings him back to Jooheon to make up for the lost time and maybe to reveal something deeper within himself. ; based on this writing prompt - using the line: “What’s the matter?”

*TW: mention of blood*

Changkyun rocks against every movement of the highspeed traveling train. Above him, his bag slides and shakes with every curve and bump of the tracks. For the fourth time, Changkyun checks his phone nervously and for the fourth time, time only moved so fast.

He didn’t move too far from home. Only a good six-hour drive depending on traffic. But Changkyun didn’t have a car. He didn’t have money to afford one, not after college and all the money he saved to take this trip.

Changkyun checks the time again. It was nearly eight and the sun was starting to set. He left somewhere around two and had to switch trains a few times which held him back a little but if his calculations were correct, he should get there before nine.

His body was starting to feel a little stiff after all the sitting and waiting but hopefully, all of this would be worth it. He expected nothing but the worse, but he had to do this. He owed it to him. He owed this to himself.

Before he knew it, his eyes slip closed and his body slumps against the uncomfortable train seats.

A hand touches Changkyun’s shoulders and he wakes up with a start, also startling the young worker.

“Sorry to wake you, sir,” the man says, “This is the last stop before we turn back.”

“Oh,” Changkyun mumbles as he adjusts himself. He’s here.

Changkyun thanks the young man and grabs his case from the carriers above him. He didn’t pack much. He didn’t have much anyway. He looks at his bag, the initials “YKH” was embroidered into the front right corner in a small fancy font. Who was he kidding? This bag wasn’t even his. He left everything he truly owned here and if it weren’t for those two kind souls that took him in, gave him a job and sent him to school... where would he be now?

Changkyun could really go for a cup of coffee or maybe even a cigarette at this point. Anything that could take the edge off. Anything that could take this weight off of his shoulders, the drag of guilt deep in his chest and the embarrassment that burns his cheeks. Anything.

The air hadn’t changed since he left. It was the same fresh and suffocating air before he disappeared, much different from the bustling city he had gotten used to. It was quiet at the station and the street lights were already on, the dim, yellow lights illuminating Changkyun’s way back home. The echos of his soles hitting the cement ground underneath him ring in his ears and he feels as if he were part of a taunting song.

Cabs should still be running at this hour but a good walk would be great to clear his mind or at least let him settle down a bit.

On the contrary, Changkyun finds himself even more worried. He wished more than anything that Kihyun and Minhyuk could be here with him now, soothing away his worries like they always do. He wishes he could feel their caring caresses instead of fighting his inner demons on his own. He needs their words, the ones that brought him this far. This was so hard. This is so hard...

Changkyun stands in front of white porch steps illuminated by the lights coming from inside. He takes in a deep breath. Each step he took felt heavier than the last until he was finally there, one step from the front door. It took a moment but his hand presses the doorbell, finally.

It was barely a millisecond before the door swings open, revealing a young man Changkyun once knew. Flashes of emotions brush across Jooheon’s face before he ends up smiling brightly with arms extended.

“Changkyun,” he breathes and it takes everything in Changkyun not to break down into tears right there. Instead, he takes Jooheon up on his offer and crashes his body into his.

They stay like that for a while, Jooheon hugging Changkyun as the latter clings to him. It wasn’t until Jooheon pulls away and closes his front door does Changkyun begin to feel self-conscious again. He expects a barrage of questions from the friend he left years ago when Jooheon needed him most. He’s ready to answer all the questions that Jooheon may have. He’s ready to let the deepest parts of him be known.

Except, he wasn’t ready for this one.

“Did you eat yet?” Jooheon asks.

Just now Changkyun notices a small apron tied around Jooheon’s waist. Eat? Changkyun thinks to the last time he ate. It was one of Kihyun’s pastries from the shop. Neither Minhyuk nor Kihyun letting him leave until he ate, “something at least!”

“N-no,” Changkyun’s throat was dry and a hand lifts up to rub at his neck in embarrassment.

“Good,” Jooheon smiles as he heads towards the kitchen. Changkyun’s been here many times before. He knows where the kitchen is, he knows how many chairs sit at the dining table and he knows where they keep their cups, spoons, and plates. “I’m just about to finish dinner,” Jooheon says, “Would you like something to drink?”

Everything seemed the same yet different. Was this truly something that only happened in his head. Did nothing change at all? All this time coming to terms that he wasn’t the one to blame, was it all in vain?

“What’s the matter?” Jooheon gives a breathy chuckle as he puts the freshly cooked food on a plate, “Did you forget where the cups and drinks were?”

Changkyun chokes on air, bringing a hand up to subtle the cough. “No, no,” he says as he opens a cupboard and pulls out two cups.

Jooheon laughs, a short and happy chuckle that says, I’m glad you didn’t forget. I’m glad you didn’t forget me.

The two sit at the dining table quietly eating their meals. It’s been years since they last spent their time like this. Years since they even properly looked at each other or bask in the other’s presence. Everything felt the same but something was off.

“Where are your parents?” Changkyun manages to cut through the silence.

Jooheon stills at the question before he visibly relaxes and continues to cut through his food, “They passed,” he says.

Changkyun’s free hand balls into fists. He’s such a selfish asshole, he’s such a fucking piece of shit leaving his friend whose life was falling apart. Fuck. If only he’d been there for Jooheon instead of a cowardly fucking idiot, hiding and cowering at every confrontation.

“It’s kind of a funny story,” Jooheon says, his voice airy.

“I’m sorry,” Changkyun’s voice was stronger, serious and sincere, “For so much Jooheon.”

His eyes said everything he needed to. All the questions he wanted to ask, buried deep in his dark brown irises. Every single word Jooheon wanted to say shut behind his lips.

Could he finally let go?

“I didn- I” Jooheon breathes, shaking hands drop his utensils.

“Aren’t you furious at me?” Changkyun asks, “Isn’t there anything that you’re curious about since I’ve been gone? At all?”

Jooheon blinks at his dinner as if it had just told him a secret that changed his life forever, “I just didn’t want you to leave again.”

Fuck. Changkyun pulls himself from his seat, startling Jooheon.

His glossy eyes watch Changkyun cross the short table and land in his lap. He watches as Changkyun wraps his arms tightly around his head and that is when Jooheon begins to cry.

It had felt like a million hours before Jooheons sobs began to simmer to short little hiccups and Changkyun’s grip softened to something more comforting, something more, something other. Something lovingly.

“Tell me,” Changkyun’s voice was nothing more than breaths at the tip of Jooheon’s hair but he was heard nonetheless through the vibrations in his chest.

“H-hey,” Jooheon’s voice picks up a little stronger than it was before even though it was riddled with hiccups and scratches from crying for so long. “I’m still older than you, you know? This is embarrassing for me.”

Changkyun releases his hold on Jooheon, pulling his chest away from Jooheon’s face. At the sight of the older’s red cheeks and puffed lips and eyes, Changkyun belts out a loud chuckle, startling the man beneath him.

Jooheon looks up with big eyes just in time to catch the brightest smile Changkyun’s let out in a long, long time. A smile decides to settle on Jooheon’s lips as he watches his bestfriend laugh himself to fits on his lap.

“Yes, Hyung,” Changkyun pulls teasingly, playfully at the tongue on his lips.

“Wow,” Jooheon sighs, raising his hands to cover his face, “This is so embarrassing... so embarrassing...”

Changkyun didn’t comment on the cold feeling he felt after Jooheon’s hands left his waist and he doesn’t comment on his very own hands still resting on Jooheon’s shoulders, or the fact that he was still sitting on Jooheon’s lap, or the red that bit Jooheon’s ears. Instead, he chooses to just remember this moment, how it is now.

“How could I cry the same night you come home?” Jooheon continues, letting his head fall and that last word hit in every corner of Changkyun’s head. “Bawling like a child. Forgive me.”

At those words, Changkyun becomes sullen again.

“Don’t say that,” Changkyun’s voice dulls, pulling up the eyes of the older man in search for something, an answer possibly but all he saw was hurt.

The self-torment that Changkyun had put himself through for so many years clearly visible in his eyes. The permeated thoughts of self-hate and blame reside in the frown of his lips. The never knowing shown through the trembles of his hands.

Jooheon decides that maybe it’s time to let Changkyun explain. Even after hoping that all could be forgotten and left in the past after Changkyun showed up again, he knew with just one look that Changkyun would never let that happen. Not after all that he put himself through.

“Why did you leave?” Jooheon asks, every part of his body aching as he said those words.

“It was hard for me,” Changkyun answers. His voice was tired. After all, he had rehearsed this in his mind so many times, “It was so hard for me to never know when you were going to wake up. To think about the way you would look at me, knowing that everything was my fault. Hyung... when I woke up and saw you beside me that night, I-” his voice shook with tremors, bordering another heartbreaking session, “I begged for that to be me instead. I prayed to every god I knew.”

Jooheon watches the child he knew since birth shake violently with tears. Nothing could be said.

“Hyung,” Changkyuns voice breaks with the weight of his words, “I held you and I-I watched you bleed from the back of your head. I felt... I felt like I was in hell. Everything was so hot and h-hurt so much. They took so long to get here. They took too long... it should’ve been me... it should’ve... I’m sorry. It hurt too much.”

At this point, Changkyun’s head fit softly into the crook of Jooheon’s neck as he cried, screaming in agony and acceptance, tearing through each word with so much pain. Jooheon holds him close, shivering into his body as he had done when he was younger.

Yes. Changkyun was always one to hide, to cower and run away. Even at a young age, Jooheon wanted to protect Changkyun. He still does. He always will. Jooheon knew this from the very beginning. Now he even had to protect the poor boy from himself.

“You always were so prone to self-blame,” Jooheon sighs, “You were only fifteen, Kyun. No one at that age should’ve had those thoughts floating around in their head. Thank you.”

Changkyun shifts slightly, though still hugging Jooheon as tightly as he could.

“When I woke up, my parents were notified and they drove to the hospital during heavy rainfall. My father was driving and my mother was in the passenger seat. He couldn’t stop the car from skidding and they crashed. Due to the heavy rain, the ambulance took longer than usual and neither of them made it,” Jooheon stroke Changyun’s back gently, letting the memories wash through him, “After I received the news, all I could think about was that I only had you now but not even that was true. I felt like I had everything ripped from me the day I woke up but I always looked forward to the day you would return, crying and apologizing like you are now. Everything fell into place after I left the hospital and I took over father’s shop with the help of some family and friends.”

Changkyun’s stopped crying by now as he clung onto the older and listened to everything that had happened in the past seven years. His voice was soothing and calm but the contents were bullets to Changkyun. He felt confused. Why, after all of these things, why was Jooheon so okay with it all?

“I never questioned why you disappeared,” Jooheon says. “After so long, I made peace with what happened. I knew you would always be out there. I’m sorry I couldn’t go looking for you. Everything I have goes towards the shop, this house, and the hospital bill. You gave me hope to live for another day so don’t beat yourself up for being a moody emotional teenager, begging me to pick you up from a shitty day, okay?”

Jooheon pulls Changkyun away from the nook of his neck and shoulder to face him, make him look properly into his eyes. “It was never anyone’s fault, okay?”

Changkyun felt dazed. Like this haze of comfort was a new and foreign feeling.

“If you really want to make it up to me, just stay by my side from now on, aright? Don’t leave me like that again. At least, if you decide to, let me know,” Jooheon smiles, letting his dimple wink playfully at Changkyun. “Now, tell me what you’ve been up to for all these years.”

Slowly, Changkyun complies, telling Jooheon about how he met Minhyuk and his lover Kihyun. How he started working at Kihyun’s bakery and how Minhyuk forced him to go to school again. How the two helped build his new sense of confidence and how they helped give him a new home. He omits a few things like dating the few boys at his university or his wild nights out, maybe he could save those for other days.

As he told his stories, Jooheon looked on in adoration at the man in his arms and gratefulness to the couple that helped him back on his feet. Never had he ever felt so at home than when he was listening to Changkyun speak with so much love and passion.

Jooheon knew that as Changkyun told his stories, he would never give up on trying to make up for himself and Jooheon was okay with that. He was planning on helping him love himself as much as he loved him and they loved each other as well. Changkyun just didn’t know it yet.

---

a/n: tysm for reading!! i worked really hard on this one and it’s my longest story ever written! Please give it lots of love~ -admin mon

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goose-books · 5 years

Text

(here’s the short TMR story i’ve been working on! AKA: patch gosling has two hands. the only tw i can think of is a few brief mentions of malnourishment)

Patch was a fool, by trade and by nature, and they’d always felt a bit too much.

His Royal Majesty the King Dusk Doveclaw liked to joke that their heart was too big for the rest of them. Patch, at twelve, had crossed their arms and protested, “I’m not so short,” to which Dusk had just quirked an eyebrow and ruffled their hair. At sixteen, Patch was willing to concede the point, if only because the idea of feeling too much made them a bit more confident about their acting skills. They hadn’t been assigned the role of the court fool. They hadn’t asked for it, either. They had sort of grown toward it, like a tree tilting toward the sun.

They had grown up made of odds and ends: a jumble of fine clothing without heir status, Dusk’s watchful eye but not his fatherhood, no designated duty but a tendency to run errands, no defined past but a six-pointed star hung round their neck and a great deal of faith. As a child, they had very firmly believed their parents, or whoever had left them with the star, were coming back for them. They had gone on believing this until they were nine. Then, rather abruptly, they’d realized it wasn’t the case. Patch had sobbed for three days straight, gripping the star so tightly it left red imprints on their palms.

That was their style. They had loved every friend they’d made in the castle, without fail, usually within days of knowing them. Their faithful heart had swelled. Their words had spilled out recklessly.

“Because we’re friends!” they exclaimed, or maybe, “Since you’re my best friend -” And the look they got in return had always been the same: a little bit alarmed, a little bit pitying, and very much discouraging.

Too much, too fast, too vulnerably: it was the only way Patch knew.

When Rowan Hawthorne arrived, the castle consensus was that this second ward of the state felt too little. After all, he was so quiet. His face never shifted. His voice was monotone. He was skilled at ignoring others’ emotions. An odd child, for sure.

It took about a day for Patch - eleven at the time - to determine this wasn’t true. They stumbled onto the topic of dragons by accident, while showing Rowan around the castle and babbling about old myths, and were rewarded with an excited burst of theories, and the two of them went from there.

Maybe Rowan’s gaze slid away from eye contact, but the fluttering of his hands and the curve of his almost-imperceptible smile spoke volumes. That first day, they spent two hours in the library and another swordfighting with sticks. They were inseparable within a week.

Rowan’s eyes were spring-green. He never did meet Patch’s gaze, but that gave them no trouble. Rather, they sat and watched his eyes flit around, narrowing to focus on whatever he was tinkering with. (“I know you’re watching me,” he said once, and crossed his eyes so violently that Patch actually squeaked and threw a pillow at him. “I don’t mind, you’re just conspicuous.”)

Most people stopped listening to Patch fairly quickly. Rowan let them ramble, listening with his head tilted and his face soft. Patch talked, and Patch watched his slender fingers work at metal and wood, freckled hands twisting and turning, and Patch’s stomach squirmed in a lovely sort of way.

Their first kiss was in the library, at fourteen: an experiment.

“Just to try it,” Rowan said.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Patch agreed.

It meant something. Their first real kiss was a week later, in the hallway behind the infirmary, teeth bumping clumsily against each other’s lips, Patch on their tiptoes and Rowan with his hands cupping their chin. Patch drew back, cheeks burning, head spinning, and managed, “Ro, I just… love you so much.”

Immediately they froze, wishing to bite back the confession.

“That seems characteristic of you,” Rowan said, giving them a crooked grin. He didn’t say it back - he wasn’t the sort - but his own confession breathed in his lips, his fingertips, the laughter in his voice, the way he draped himself over Patch when no one else was allowed to touch him.

That was fourteen. The next two years were warm and light.

But Patch was a fool. And then there was Viridi Doveswing.

Patch and Rowan were the ones to find him: where the woods met the capital city, a stranger crumpled at the edge of the treeline, left arm twisted under him, burning up with fever and mumbling about leaves and feathers. They, too, were the ones to visit him in the infirmary. He looked very small, curled against the white bed. His ribs showed through his ragged shirt. His arm was held to his chest in a sling.

The first fact he established was that he didn’t remember anything. He said it haltingly, voice singsongy, hands twitching and tugging at one another in a way that made Patch want to reach out and hold them. They resisted. Not only because they had a decent sense of personal autonomy, but because they didn’t want to break open the barely-healed wounds across Viridi’s palms.

The second fact he established was that he couldn’t lie.

“I don’t remember,” he had insisted again, eyes darting around the room, and Rowan crossed his arms and countered, “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Rowan!” Patch hissed.

“There’s something about the way he’s saying it,” Rowan said firmly.

Viridi met their eyes. His gaze was so green that it made Patch’s knees a little weak. “I always tell the truth,” he said. Calm, weary, self-assured. “I can’t lie.”

Patch offered a smile that wasn’t returned. “I mean, me neither, Rowan says I’ve got a lot of tells -”

“No,” Viridi repeated slowly, “I can’t lie. I’m - I’m unable.”

They stared at him. Viridi shrugged. “It hurts,” he offered.

A more cynical person might have said that set the tone for the rest of their friendship. But Patch didn’t have a cynical bone in their body - though Rowan said they were so flexible that it wouldn’t have surprised him if they didn’t have all the bones they were supposed to, anyway. Regardless, Viridi remained the same: singsong voice, deliberate blinding gaze, matter-of-fact statements he refused to explain. He was standoffish, at first, but he relaxed the more the two of them visited.

“We’re the castle outcasts!” Patch informed him one day, flopping down onto the bed. “Welcoming you to our ranks and such.”

“They mean since most people think you’re mad,” Rowan filled in.

Patch swatted him gently. “Most people don’t think that!”

“I can’t say they’re entirely unreasonable to say so,” Viridi allowed. “Most people never come out of the woods.” His full lips curved into a smirk. “And Rowan’s right. You do have a lot of tells.”

Patch pouted, but they couldn’t hold it for long. “It’s good to see you smile, Vee.”

“What’s that all about, anyway?” Viridi demanded. “Vee?”

“Well, I call Rowan Ro, it’s the same -” Patch halted midsentence.

Oh, dear.

“It’s part of their charm,” Rowan said, slinging an arm around Patch’s shoulder. “Their unique jackass charm.” Patch breathed in the familiar scent of his shirt and tried to smile through the epiphany clanging around their skull.

Oh, dear.

The issue wasn’t anything innate. It wasn’t even about Viridi, really. Viridi could do what he liked with his feelings or lack thereof. The issue was how to tell Rowan: specifically, how to tell Rowan without making him feel unwanted. Because the thought of making Rowan ever, ever feel unwanted gave Patch a lump in their throat.

So they didn’t say anything. They just went about their days, and ran errands, and made a fool of themself in front of the court, and wondered what the polite way was to say I love you very much, and that won’t change, despite the great deal of time I’ve spent thinking about Viridi Doveswing’s lips.

By the time Viridi had recovered enough to leave the infirmary, the king had proclaimed him a third ward of state. Patch and Rowan were tasked with showing him his room in the castle. Viridi was strong enough to stand now, but he still bore the scars of malnourishment. By the time they reached the door, he was leaning on both of them, gaunt face drawn with effort.

“Thank you,” he said as he sat down heavily on the bed.

“Of course!” Patch grinned at him. “What would we have done? Left you in the corridor? Just sitting there all night?”

They were startled by the intensity of Viridi’s gaze. He looked at them for a moment, then at Rowan, then down at his hands. “I have trouble with this,” he said softly. “I know I act a certain way, but… I do appreciate… even if I’m…”

Rowan, behind Patch, touched their wrist, nudging them to ask. “Trouble with what?” Patch ventured.

“Liking people,” Viridi said simply. “Friends.”

It was a great feat, to strike Patch speechless.

Rowan picked up their slack: “Are you all right now?”

“I should be,” Viridi murmured, looking around the small room with some trepidation. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Patch managed, trying to keep the smile off their face. “Good night, Vee.”

“Good night, Patch, Rowan.”

The two of them left him there and retreated to Patch’s room, which was closest. Patch went to the window. Rowan flopped down onto the bed immediately. “Going to storm,” he murmured contentedly. “I love storms.”

They were right. Patch could see the thick gray clouds. The first rumbles were already starting. They drummed their fingers on the windowsill, stomach flipping, and started, “Ro -”

“It’s his hands, isn’t it,” Rowan said.

Patch looked at him. He was staring at the ceiling, eyes half-closed. “He’s so careful, I mean. He’s got artist’s hands.” He nodded to himself, as if confirming it, and added, “He acts like a bastard, but he’s got gentle hands.”

Patch, dumbstruck for the second time in one day, sat down next to him. Then they laid down, brushing his side, and let their smile grow. “Yeah,” they said. “You got me.”

Rowan edged closer, pressing against Patch like a cat. He radiated warmth. “Either we have really good taste,” he said, “or really bad taste.”

“You… too, then?”

“Unfortunately.”

Patch’s chest bubbled. They let out a shaky laugh. “I was all flustered over how to tell you without - without giving the wrong idea, you know, and -”

“Well. You do call him Vee.”

Patch mock-gasped. “Am I so easy to read?”

“Your heart’s my favorite book,” Rowan hummed, adding, “Asshole,” for good measure as he drew them in closer, and Patch’s foolish, faithful heart sang and sang.

tag list (no pressure to interact with anything; let me know if you want to be added/removed): @a-simple-ram @bristlefrost @idreamtofreality @bluejaybabbles @littlewriterling @avi-burton-writing @languagesbian @woodland-wisp

#max.txt #max actually writes #tmr tag #patch gosling #rowan hawthorne #viridi doveswing #this is. vaguely. based on my own experiences

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sparklyjojos · 5 years

Text

[THE CHILDISH DARKNESS Recaps, Chapter 8]

[tw: gore, adult-minor relationship, a bundle of homophobia / biphobia / transphobia]

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EIGHT

Saburou always told Kaede that she should find a honest, loyal and benevolent man, even if he himself wasn’t really any of these things. Every man Kaede tried to date sooner or later turned out to be awful, which inevitably led to a break up, sadness and – on a surprisingly large number of occassions – Saburou beating up the boyfriend of the week.

Nobody, not a single one of these men believed in becoming or having a partner whose love is honest, loyal and benevolent. But what about Saburou himself? He certainly believed there could exist a woman that had all these qualities. Just like all the girlfriends and wives of his friends: honest (not mentioning something to their partners technically wasn’t lying!), loyal (it’s not like they wanted to leave their husbands!), and benevolent (they forgave Saburou a lot!).

“I wouldn’t say that’s love,” Kaede said. “That’s something you understand when you get there. You never actually were in love, right?” Well, not really. “How about with me?” Idiot.

That being said, he cherished Kaede. He got angry at her good for nothing boyfriends and let her cry on his shoulder. In turn, Kaede forgave his flaws and kept hanging out with him. But that had to be only because they were good friends. Besides, his body never responded with arousal when in physical contact with her, so clearly that wasn’t love, right?

The love he felt for Yurio was different, but… she was thirteen, he twenty-nine. Just thirteen! This wasn’t something considered to be normal, and he definitely didn’t have a lolita complex or something! He’d really have to start dating single adult women from now on! Yurio should live her own life, get a boyfriend her age and grow up normally. He cared about her and so never attempted to kiss her or have intercourse, even if it was tempting.

When she told Kaede about his Yurio problem, Kaede called him a lolicon, reminded him that he’s an owner of a cram school filled with minors, overall questioned his morality and proposed giving himself up to the police.

Around the time Saburou had finished writing the third Runbaba novel, Kaede for whatever reason married their childhood friend Okamoto Yasuhiro (But really, with Okachi? Was he maybe not as strictly into guys as he had thought as a child?). The reaction of Saburou’s brothers and father to this news was to tell Saburou that he’s an idiot for passing the occasion to marry a good woman like her. Shirou – who knew about his many sexcapades -- told him without any qualms that maybe he should just cut his dick off. In hindsight, maybe it really would be better if he’d done that before it showed interest in a thirteen-year-old.

Saburou’s mother didn’t say anything back then, but he knew she was disappointed too. Kaede had often visited their house and earned the favor of the entire family. Even Maruo’s election committee member Mitamura Hidenori had said that Saburou found himself a nice girlfriend, and that she looked amusingly similar to Saburou’s mother in her youth. Maruo’s secretary Kato Satoshi replied that Saburou was still young and would surely meet a lot of nice women later (little knowing that Saburou had surely had a fruitful meeting with his granddaughter once).

What would Jirou say about it if he was still there? Back when Kaede had been in middle school and Jirou’s companion Kawai Kazuhiro attempted to date her, he got punched by Jirou so hard he flew a few meters away. Then Jirou used a cigarette to give him several burns on his right hand, arranging them in the shape of Cassiopeia (at that time burning constellations into people was his big ‘interest’). He also had Kazuhiro wear female underwear, knowing that when Kazuhiro and his twin brother Youji had been children, they were often made fun of for wearing cute feminine clothes and hairstyles their parents loved.

Jirou repeated all of the above later with Youji who had attempted to get revenge for his brother. Youji’s constellation of choice was the Big Dipper.

Without a doubt Jirou had some interest in Kaede. He never hurt her and she was about the only person in the entire prefecture who didn’t show fear in his presence. He never looked as relaxed as when talking with her.

Have Saburou married Kaede, maybe Jirou (if he was there) would beat him up too and burn Orion or something into his hand.

But hey, it’s not like Saburou’s relationship with Kaede was Like That.

Was it?

Even if Yurio still occasionally showed up in Saburou’s bedroom with a knife asking him to stab her and he had to fling the knife out the window and chant “It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright”, these outbursts became much rarer. Things were going good.

Then Saburou got a call from Atena, who told him in tears that Shirou was currently fighting for his life after he’d been hit by a runaway driver in the hospital’s parking lot.

Saburou made sure that Yurio would be fine staying alone in the house and that she had her phone nearby (pink with a sticker saying ‘love’ and their tiny photo), and left to drive to the hospital. It seemed Shirou had borrowed his BMW in the morning, so Saburou had to use Ichirou’s Bentz instead.

A traffic officer called Aoyama told him that right when Shirou had been leaving the building, he got hit by a car so hard he bounced a few times between the car’s roof and the porch ceiling. Hardly an ‘accident’. Fortunately Shirou could be taken to ER immediately afterwards, but the outcome of surgery was uncertain. It wasn’t the first time in the span of not even three months that Shirou had been seriously injured in a car accident.

Who would be trying to take Shirou out? Some sort of gang? Saburou called a yakuza member he'd met once when he’d been hanging out with Jirou, Tsuji Yutaka (first lieutenant of Furutaka-gumi related to Hoshino-kai). But before he could really ask about anything, Tsuji shot his own question at him:

“Is is true that Mr. Jirou returned? A whole lot of rumours is flying around claiming that he showed his face in Fukui lately.”

Apparently, somebody had seen Jirou in the Palace Hotel in Fukui, assisted by a woman, and now various group were trying to find him. Was that just innocent Kawaji Natsurou being mistaken for Jirou? Were the two men one? Was that someone else? And who was that woman? No, there’s no way that…

Could Jirou be trying to murder Shirou? He shouldn’t have any reasons to pick him as a victim over Maruo or Saburou, but maybe he changed his approach somehow. Saburou remembered a piece of dialogue from Thomas Harris once again.

“Do you spook easily, Starling?”

“Not yet.”

Jirou / Natsurou had showed up in his dreams as Hannibal Lecter. Would Clarice “Saburou” Starling be able to put him behind bars?

Saburou decided to check who that woman was first and thought about Jirou’s old followers he could ask about her. Maybe Kawai Kazuhiro? Saburou found his number in the phone book, but was told that Kazuhiro and his twin Youji had gone missing fourteen years earlier in December 1986.

Exactly when Jirou vanished. Did he take the twins with him for some reason? As a mystery writer Saburou instantly reacted to the twins being involved by thinking of some complicated body switch trick. That would be ridiculous. But Saburou couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of Jirou running away with someone and soon realized just why he felt so bitter about it.

Why hadn’t Jirou taken him along?

No, he had to resume thinking about the case at hand. He had to finally become useful. Or was he really that stupid and good for nothing?

Upon getting to the hospital, Saburou first went to visit Maruo in his room overcrowded with political partners (the news spread fast about his son possibly being targeted) and was startled to find Maruo crying. He took Ichirou’s secretary Hasegawa Katsuyuki aside.

“Hey, why is Maruo crying?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘why’, Mr. Saburou? Mr. Shirou got hit by a car!”

But Shirou was still alive, and when Saburou had called Maruo earlier the man sounded unfazed.

“He wiped his tears and took a few deep breaths before getting the call,” Hasegawa said. “He didn’t want to show you his panic. That’s what parents do.” Hasegawa added that they had tried to contact Ichirou in vain. He must have still been searching for their mother.

Maruo thanked Saburou for coming, and Saburou knew that he meant “thank you for being here at this time”. Ever since Nozaki’s attack Maruo got a lot more timid. Shirou would claim that looking death in the eyes had changed him.

“What do you think, Saburou?” Maruo asked after a brief exchange about the accident / attempted murder. “Why did that happen?”

“I wonder if there’s someone who holds resentment towards him.”

“Do you think it’s my fault?” A wry smile. “You too think that all these things happening to my family is my fault?”

How could one respond to such a question? Deep inside, Saburou felt like Maruo really was the cause of all their problems, but of course a whole lot of other people were at fault. Maybe they -- the brothers as well as their mother -- could have done better instead of giving up on Jirou. Maybe Maruo and Jirou should have tried better for the sake of each other.

“Everyone’s gone already,” Maruo continued. “Everyone’s leaving the Natsukawa house.”

“Maybe it’s better if they did,” Saburou replied, “if they can do what they want. Even if split up, family is still family, right? Everyone would be able to finally solve the problems they couldn’t tackle while staying in that house.”

Maruo certainly feared losing the family he kept around him. When his wife had been attacked and fell into coma, he slept an entire day long as if trying to escape intense grief. He’d always been a weaker man than he looked.

“That’s not possible,” Maruo said after some thought. “The family must stay together until the end.”

Saburou didn’t plan on screaming, but he couldn’t help yelling through sudden tears about how Maruo is always saying things like that and making everyone miserable, that this fixation on keeping them together is ruining everything, that it’d be best to finally let everyone go and live separately!

Maruo looked shocked, but clearly not believing in anything he’d just heard. “You’re going to leave too, aren’t you? Then leave!”

Saburou hadn’t said that, but he was already sobbing like a little boy and couldn’t voice his arguments well. Surely Maruo just spoke brashly in an attempt to hide weakness, but Saburou still felt hurt. Leaving the room, Saburou heard one more thing behind his back.

“You’re not my child anymore!”

Saburou broke down crying in the hallway.

Natsukawa Saburou, abandoned by both his parents. No, that last name wasn’t even his anymore. His house wasn’t his house anymore.

Hasegawa walked out after him and told him not to run away, that Maruo surely understood what Saburou had meant, and that he needed just a little more patience and some more calm talking.

But it was always the same! They just always returned to the starting point, and no one ever seemed to grow the fuck up!

Hasegawa didn’t agree with that, and told him that Shirou had decided to become a candidate in the summer election to replace the still hospitalized Ichirou and Maruo. In fact he only showed up at the hospital that day because they were talking politics. Even despite his own job back in the USA, Shirou was more than ready to do something like this for the good of the family.

Saburou yelled at Hasegawa to shut up and ran away. Who he was running away from? Hasegawa, Maruo, Shirou? Himself? He hadn’t done anything useful like Shirou, and even if he intended to help Yurio, in the end it was Shirou who really took care of her and her mental health.

Waiting in front of the operating theater, Saburou talked with a man called Fukushima Manabu, who until pretty recently had owned a convenience store, but was now Shirou’s secretary. He also happened to be a son of one of Nozaki’s victims, who had died after a long coma. Fukushima wondered if it had been the right choice to try keeping her alive for that long.

“I don’t really understand it myself,” he said, “but I often saw my mother’s ghost when doing laundry. Or rather her soul, seeing as she hadn’t died yet at the time. Her face showed up in the water inside the washing machine, looking at me without a word, expression hard to read. But when I’d push the button to have the water drain out, she’d look at peace. I thought that maybe this was her way of asking me to finally let her go. But I was too afraid to do so, and I liked our little meetings. I couldn’t kill my mother. Eventually she died and never again showed up in the laundry water.”

Saburou didn’t know what his own reaction would be if the one in the coma was one of his brothers or father -- would he be able to cut off their life support, snip!, goodbye? -- but shuddered to even think about killing any of them. Besides, he wanted to show them that he’s worth something. No matter how horribly they’d suffer, he would stand his ground and refuse to kill them.

Just to what extent could egoism born from love be forgiven?

Saburou realized that not only had Shirou borrowed his car that day, he was also wearing his clothes, as he usually did because of how little baggage he had taken with him from the US. Whoever the runaway driver was, his intention wasn’t to kill Shirou, but Saburou.

Saburou thought that he really should have been the one to get hurt.

In the end, the doctors said that Shirou would survive. Around that time news surfaced about a car with a busted front window found near the hospital. The driver thought to be the one who had attacked Shirou was still sitting inside. The problem was, said driver was found with all the skin of his head and limbs peeled off, and all the teeth pulled out. Despite that he was still alive and said his name was Okamoto Yasuhiro. Okachi.

Saburou called Yurio and learned that Kaede had come by earlier asking to see him.

A little later Saburou arrived at the Mouryou Pond and found crying Kaede. He was afraid – because of Okachi’s attempt to kill him, because of Kaede waiting here for him with unknown intentions – but then again, the entire world held nothing but fear for him now. He’d been thrown out of the family, Shirou was injured, and his mother, Ichirou, Jirou were all far away.

But Yurio was still there. He had to put this mess in order and return to her.

Kaede said that she’d been in love with Saburou for a long time, and no matter how much she tried to date others, it just wouldn’t work. She had no idea that things would lead to this awful situation. She had thought that maybe getting together with Okachi would be fine, that he’d have no interest in her. But lately he had seemed to have grown more at ease with touching and kissing her. They had a lot of long conversations about it.

Saburou remembered the note that had been found by Okachi’s body.

Saburou, I’m glad you’re still alive. Even though a lot of time had passed, do you continue doing what’s right? Just by observing you a little I was able to make sure. You’re a honest and docile person. (...)

Do you still read mystery novels? Do you remember the title of the book that I, you and Shirou read together and liked a lot? ‘Red Dragon’ by Thomas Harris. Have you read its sequel, ‘The Silence of the Lambs’? I did. If you’ve read it, but can’t remember the details, you can check it for yourself later: the thing that Lecter tells Clarice about Buffalo Bill:

“Billy’s not a transsexual, Clarice, but he thinks he is, he tries to be.”

Saburou, this man just like Buffalo Bill is trying to deceive himself. This statement should be enough for you to understand the meaning of what I did. Observe the scene from all sides, try out all ideas. When constantly looked at by a new pair of eyes and in a different light, everything will certainly reveal itself.

This is a simple, maybe a little flashy work of art made to show you just that. I hesitated a little over whether or not to use novocain, but this indecision was swept away when I heard that Shirou had been saved. The point in the first place wasn’t to give this creation suffering. I chose the song “I will survive”, as this man’s self-deception was just that persistent.

You see, flaying alive is a popular execution method in the East and in the West both, but in the Sixteen Kingdoms period particularly, skinning the person’s face was followed by making them sing and dance for everyone’s amusement. I’m sure you would enjoy it too. His rendition of “I will survive”.

The above note had been put into Okachi’s mouth together with a giant pink dildo signed by “Death God Jawakutora”. The handwriting style of the note without a doubt belonged to Jirou. Saburou had no intention of ever showing that note to Kaede.

Okachi had felt jealous about Saburou and Kaede. Had he been just faking it like Jirou implied, or was he actually bisexual like Kaede thought? When he’d once said that Kaede had been the first woman he’d ever fell in love with, was it true? Maybe his talk about how the border between gay and straight is hard to see was born from his experience of not falling squarely on one of these sides. Was his murderous intent towards Saburou true jealousy or somehow born from false emotions?

Saburou’s thoughts were interrupted by a phone call from Yurio, who gasped and hanged up as soon as he mentioned he and Kaede were at the Mouryou Pond. Since he and Yurio had first met here, she probably considered it a special place.

When he turned to face Kaede again, she was holding a knife, but didn’t make a move, crying that she didn’t understand anything anymore. Saburou had a feeling that the situation couldn’t be resolved other than by having someone be stabbed.

“Stab me, Kaede,” he said knowing well that she wouldn’t. She wasn’t Yurio. Her love was different. But maybe it’d be better if she did stab him. Everything was his fault, his and his love’s. “I have loved you all along, Kaede. That’s why it’s better if you stab me.” He both didn’t actually want to die and thought that it’d really be a better option.

All of this was the fault of the egoism of his love. He had known about Kaede’s suffering, but refused to disconnect her life support. Disconnect himself from her. He stubbornly stayed near her as she hovered at the faint line between life and death, not really falling on either side.

He kept telling her to stab him, she kept saying she can’t and at last dropped the knife, and he embraced her.

Maybe her inability to kill him was also the effect of egoism born from love.

In the end, Kaede said she’d go to the police and tell them about Okachi, but that she wanted to stay alone at the lake for a little while. Only when walking down the mountain did Saburou realize that she still had the knife, but highly doubted that Kaede would hurt herself. He considered turning around, but if he wanted to support her, the right choice was probably to just leave. To cut the line of the life support.

Goodbye, Kaede. Snip! Goodbye.

When Saburou returned home, he found a headless corpse in the garden, and the ID revealed the dead to be Yurio’s father. A knife – the same that Saburou had thrown out the window -- lied discarded to the side. Yurio must have used it.

But the one she should have killed wasn’t her father. After Yurio cut his father’s head off, she carved a (still bleeding) “LOVE ME TENDER” into his chest and put Saburou’s pants on him.

The one lying dead on the ground should be Saburou.

Without even trying to find Yurio or taking care of the corpse Saburou entered the underground storage and closed himself in the darkness, exhausted from everything that happened lately.

He heard footsteps again, heard them stop abruptly over his head again, but this time someone opened the trapdoor. It wasn’t the pale ghost of a little girl.

“Found you!” laughed Kawaji Natsurou.

He looked an awful lot like Jirou -- made himself look like Jirou -- but his hand bore several scars arranged in the shape of the Big Dipper. Kawai Youji.

“Long time no see,” Saburou answered. “You seem to have found a really good mask.” A spitting image of Jirou. Wait, if Jirou had peeled off the skin from Okachi’s face, did Youji do the same to Jirou and wore it like his own?

Saburou tried to fight, but Youji managed to inject him a knockout drug.

As if whatever god there was had finally gave up on him and decided to cut off his life support after seeing him return to that same small darkness under the floor over and over again.

Snip! Goodbye, Saburou.

[>>>NEXT>>>]

#sparkly reads tcd #maijo and jdc stuff

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