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willsimpforanyone · 3 years

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Hey there! Ok, first of all, your writing is ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS 🤩!!! Okay, on to the actual request now. Could you plz write a Heroes of Olympus fic with the seven (plus Reyna, Thalia, Nico and Will) X fem!reader who is a daughter of Khione (Greek goddess of snow)? R is struggling with controlling her powers cause they r linked to her emotions. Individually each character helps her with her powers in some way. Thanks! (Idk if that made sense btw but hopefully it makes sense!) okay, bye!!

no stop you're so sweet!! thank you so much omg

i can absolutely do that- for context, we're gonna say that the camp jupiter kids are visiting

i haven't given R a name and i refuse to use y/n

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The camp was huge and busy and full of people. She was overwhelmed, her breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. Steam blew around her as her freezing breath met the warm air and her hands fisted in her skirt. She wasn't gonna panic, she couldn't panic with all these people around, gods there were so many people in this stupid little tour group and oh shit she was panicking. She could see tiny flakes of snow start to flutter down around her, settling on everyone's skin. They started looking around and up at the sky and her nails dug into her cold skin as they finally turned and looked at her, the light snow turning into larger flakes and increasing in number. Within seconds there was a blizzard spanning six feet squared. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her hardest to calm down. A hand touched her own, and a voice reached her ears, muffled by the snow. "Hey, I'm Percy, is it okay if I touch you?" She forced herself to nod, and Percy pulled her gently away from the group. As soon as there were fewer people, she could breathe a little easier. "We're away from everyone else, it's okay, can you open your eyes for me?" Her eyes opened and met green eyes and black hair and an encouraging smile. "Take some deep breaths, that's it, you're doing great." Her breathing became more regular. "It's overwhelming for a lot of people, that's okay. You're safe now that you're here, I promise." The blizzard had all but stopped, just a few flakes brushed off her hair by Percy's caring hand. "It's okay, we don't have to go back until you're ready." She would be ready in a little bit.

The forest was quiet. She liked the quiet. She knew she hadn't been avoided, exactly, but it was hard to feel that way when there wasn't anyone sitting at her table. No one talked to her, but it was just because she was new. Talking to new people was awkward, she knew that. So it was her choice, and her choice alone, to go sit in the woods. She didn't know why there were tears down her cheeks, and she hated that they froze on her skin. A snapped twig made her look up sharply. There were two people in front of her. The girl sat down next to her. "It's cold out, why are you sitting out here?" She shrugged. "Don't really feel the cold. And it's either being alone out here or alone in a cabin so it doesn't really matter." She gave a small smile. The guy sat next to the girl. "You're the daughter of Khione, right? No wonder you feel lonely," he turned to the girl. "Hazel, there's no one else in her cabin." Hazel gasped and rubbed her shoulder. "Come with us. We'll see if you can be moved to my cabin, there's only me and my brother in there." "Oh, I couldn't do that to you," she said, but the warmth of hope and companionship bloomed in her chest. "If you really don't want to, that's okay, but at least come with us to the campfire, come with me and Frank." Hazel's soft smile melted away the resistance, and Frank stood up, offering his hand. She stood, using the hand held out, and followed the pair. Frank held her back a moment while Hazel joined the group of ten, twelve-ish people around a campfire. "If you really don't want to join, it's okay, I'll take you back to your cabin, I promise." He smiled warmly and a little nervously. "But it might be fun. Coming?" She smiled back, and walked towards the promised warmth.

Hunched shoulders, her ears were being assulted with jeers and taunts. Loser, loner, ice freak, anti-freeze. That one wasn't even right. The small table felt a lot bigger when she was the only one there, but she was getting used to that. It didn't help that the Ares cabin was very loud. To be fair, it wasn't the whole cabin, just the very loud minority. She tried to remind herself of that when she got called all these names. The table was covered in a heavy frost, the cutlery in her hands was cold and clutched tightly. She took a few deep breaths. There was minimal snow, and she smiled to herself. She was gaining a little more control. A plate slamming onto the table made her jump, and she looked up to see sharp blue eyes and a shock of black hair, piercings decorating ears. The girl sat next to her, scowling at the Ares cabin. "Hey! Leave her alone, assholes!" The girl turned to you. "I'm Thalia, ignore them." She smiled at Thalia. "Thanks, but you don't have to be here." "It's no problem," Thalia shrugged. "My brother is at his girlfriend's table so I was alone anyway and you looked like you could use a little help." That normally would have made her defensive, but Thalia seemed more protective than pitying. "...thank you, I'm not good at confrontation." She frowned. "Sorry about the... ice." Thalia shrugged. "I struggled too. And being the daughter of Zeus, my power was a lot more destructive than yours, trust me," she grinned. She felt less self-conscious with this strong, angry girl next to her.

The rings of seats surrounding the dead campfire were cold. There was a light layer of frost, but she was too tired to know if it was because of her or just the chill of the night. The nightmare had been bad, and waking up in an icy cabin alone hadn't helped. The outside had seemed warmer, more welcoming, and as she looked up she could see the stars. The campfire was central to the camp, she felt like she could check every direction. For example, the second she heard footsteps coming from the left, she snapped her head to see another girl, wrapped in a blanket and walking with determination towards her. The girl sat firmly beside her. "You're the kid of Khione, the one Frank and Hazel introduced us to the other night, right?" "...yeah," and suddenly she remembered the girl's name. "You're Piper, right? Daughter of Aphrodite?" Piper nodded. "Yep. What's up, why you out here?" She shrugged. There was no stigma around nightmares in the camp, everyone got them, but she still wasn't comfortable going into detail. "Just a nightmare, didn't want to stay in the cabin." Piper made a noise of understanding. "Me too," she shivered. "The frost natural or you?" She laughed ruefully. "Not sure, to be honest." She ran a hand through her hair, and it came away covered in ice. "Although judging by that, I'd say a good portion of it is me." Piper stood up. "Stay here, I'll be back in a minute." She grabbed her blanket and ran back to her cabin, returning with a larger blanket and a wide-toothed comb. "Can I get the ice and frost out of your hair?" Surprised, she nodded hesitatingly. Piper sat cross-legged on the wooden seat by her side and wrapped the blanket around them both, gesturing for her to turn round. "I'll be gentle, I promise. It'll calm us both down, then you can get the frost under control."

The sword shattered yet again and she threw the hilt on the ground, yelling in anger. She barely noticed the two others in the arena, too focused on the fact that the blade of her sword had gotten so cold it had broken- this was the third time. Every time she got into her training and concentrated too hard, ice spread from her hands to the sword and it was only a matter of time before she shattered it. "Hey, stop throwing stuff on the ground, kids train here." A harsh female voice came from across the arena, and she flinched. Turning, she recognised the pair- Jason and Reyna, they must be training. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'll clean it up." She frowned, kneeling and picking up the remnants of her sword. Jason jogged over, followed slowly by Reyna. He knelt down too, helping with the jagged edges. "It's okay, what's got you so worked up?" She sighed. "If the metal gets too cold, it breaks. I get freezing if I concentrate too hard on fighting, apparently, so I've broken three swords in the past two hours." Reyna grabbed the discarded sword hilt, examining it. "You know, you should find a specific sword for your abilities." "You can do that?" Jason and Reyna nodded. "Yeah, mine turns into either a sword or a spear depending on the flip of a coin," Jason explained. "I'm sure we could find something that can withstand low temperatures." Reyna frowned, considering. "I'm sure if you asked Chiron he'd figure something out. Although maybe you should work on controlling the temperature issue." Jason's eyes lit up. "Hey, you should go see Leo! Remember him from the campfire the last week? He's always too hot, but he's great at changing his body temperature. Go see him tomorrow!" Reyna nodded her approval. She smiled. Okay, let's go see Leo.

"Um, hey, Jason said you could help me?" She knocked on the open door of the Hephaestus cabin, settling her eyes on the curly-haired kid- Leo- screwing around with bits of metal on the floor. He leapt up, scattering metal everywhere. "Yes! Hello! I remember you from the campfire, Piper said you'd be knocking on my humble door." She grinned as he approached, hands still fiddling with a screwdriver. "She was right, she recommended I talk to you about helping with my heat regulation?" Leo practically vibrated with enthusiam. "Yeah! I'm always hot-" he winked, she laughed. "-but it took me a while to regulate it, so I wasn't spontaneously bursting into flames. May I?" He held out his hands for hers. They were searing hot against her freezing skin, and she yanked them away. Leo pulled away too, a dismayed look on his face. "Uh, okay, too hot, got it. I'll lower my temperature as best I can." She placed her hands back in his, the difference a little less painful this time as she breathed deeply. "Sorry, it was just a little surprising, I wasn't aware of how cold I was." Leo shook his head, and pulled her further into the room. "Don't worry chica, you'll get the hang of it. Don't concentrate on the hands, focus on the feeling inside," he nodded towards a small bench, and they sat down. "Think of your body as a... car. If the hood it hot, you open it up and cool down the engine, right?" Nodding, she relaxed her shoulders and hands. "Got it, focus on the internal cooling issue rather than the results." That earned her an encouraging squeeze of her hands. They sat together for an hour, maybe two. She could almost increase and decrease her temperature at will. Leo taught her a weird handshake, where they changed temperature every time their hands met. "Thank you so much, Leo," she grinned, getting up to leave. "No hay problema, I'm glad I could help," he lightly punched her shoulder. "And hey, any time I need to cool down, I know who to come to."

The tiny ice towers sparkled in the sun, almost looking like crystal. She was curious- she'd come so far from the girl who caused a snowstorm at the slightest anxiety, so how much control was she capable of? The ice was sharpened to a point, but there wasn't much distinction between the small structures. There was someone who could help, with a mind almost as sharp as her ice. "Hey Annabeth? Can I steal your attention for a second?" The girl looked up from her Ancient Greek book, and smiled upon seeing her friend. "Sure, come in, what's up?" She walked towards Annabeth, sitting next to her on the bed. "You're good with architecture, right?" "'Good' is an understatement," Annabeth nudged her in the ribs. "But yes, architecture is kind of my thing." "Can you help with my power? I think I can control it better now, but I need a guideline- can you draw up a blueprint or something for me to model out of ice?" Annabeth's eyes sparkled as brightly as ice in the sun, and she darted to her desk, grabbing graph paper and a pencil. "We can experiment with different temperatures and thicknesses of the ice-" starting to spout facts about architectural structures and buildings. "Annabeth, this is awesome, but just know you have to be patient with me," she said. "I need a lot of practice." Sitting back down on the bed, Annabeth wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I know, but we can do it. It'll be awesome."

"Hey! Over here!" Will beckoned her over. She smiled and jogged over and into the medical tent. "Hey Will, what's up?" She gave a small wave to the shadowy boy next to him. "Hey Nico." She recieved a vague nod in return. Will gestured to a kid, maybe eight or nine, holding his wrist sitting on a camper bed. "We've run out of ice packs, and we're waiting on an order of ambrosia and nectar so can you do me a favour?" She shrugged. "What do you need?" His next words came as a surprise. "I need snowballs." Laughing, she nodded. "Okay, sure, how many?" Nico kicked an ice box next to him. "Fill this." She nodded, and started creating lumps of snow, balling them up in her palms and chucking them into the box. The kid stared, fascinated. She grinned, pausing her snowball-making to blow a flurry of snowflakes in the kid's face, eliciting a delighted laugh. The slight smile on Nico's face didn't go unnoticed. She leaned into Will. "Hey, get Nico to summon a skeleton outside the tent." "What? Why?" She whispered a plan into his ear, and Will giggled. He grabbed his boyfriend by the arm and dragged him outside. She kept making snowballs and entertaining the kid with snowflakes until Will grabbed her arms and pulled her outside, a huge smile on his face. "Come on, come on, do it!" Will jumped up and down excitedly. Nico raised an eyebrow, but smiled fondly. "What did you want the skeleton for?" She grinned, and pushed her hands forward, snow flying from her hands and surrounding the skeleton. Bones clad in thick snow and from somewhere Will produced a carrot. Nico rolled his eyes, but took out two solid black earrings to stick into the face of the snowman for eyes. Together, she and Nico manipulated the snowman to walk into the medical tent, and from within came screams of delight- it was Christmas in August.

She felt home.

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this took me so long and my shoulder is killing me but i did it! i very much hope you enjoyed, thank you so much for requesting!

#heroes of olympus #percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #piper mclean #leo valdez #hazel levesque #frank zhang #nico di angelo #will solace #reyna ramirez avila arellano #imagine #hoo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #seven

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 20, part three(!)

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode has so much crucially important stuff in it I had to write 3 posts about it! Part one is here, part two is here.

Don't Start None, Won't Be None

Lan Wangji has never had a real fight with Wei Wuxian before--remember, in their rooftop fight Wei Wuxian never even drew his sword. And since this is going to be a verbal fight, Lan Wangji is going to lose, badly. He's an elegant and articulate speaker, but he's not quick with words, and he speaks directly and sincerely. Weaponized speech is not his area at all, so he's pretty much bringing a knife to a gunfight. A guqin to a flute fight. Whatever. He tries to turn it into a physical confrontation, twice, but Jiang Cheng holds him back.

This throwdown is 100% about religion and orthodoxy; something that is fundamental to both of these young men's lives. Lan Wangji has made it his mission to be as orthodox as possible, doing shit like volunteering to be beaten for drinking when he didn't choose to drink. He's constantly overwhelmed by emotion, and the Lan rules are a source of regulation and safety for him. His emotions around Wei Wuxian are among the most overwhelming he's got, possibly only second to his feelings about his mom.

Right now his feelings are extra overwhelming.

It's complicated because his relationship with Wei Wuxian literally started off with him punishing Wei Wuxian for heterodoxy. All that time they spent together in the library? Was because Wei Wuxian talked--JUST talked--about using resentful energy for cultivation. Which is precisely the ability he's just shown them, along with a style of killing enemies that's borderline evil and definitely, DEFINITELY unsportsmanlike.

So this is not, Lan Wangji is lovingly worried about Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. This is Lan Wangji freaking out because his entire system of belief is being challenged and he's in love with the person who's challenging it.

Wei Wuxian has shown up to the party wearing an International Mr. Leather tee shirt with a enamel pin stuck to it that says "I get my kicks on route 666" and Lan Wangji just. cannot. deal.

Never Start a Fight But Always Finish One

Wei Wuxian has a couple of options here. One is to accept, kindly, that he and his friend can't be friends any more because of religion. In this option, in order to preserve his friend's comfortable sense of being right, he would have to tacitly accept that he himself is bad in some way, and allow his friend to keep having his value system, while walking away from him.

The other choice is to hit so hard that he makes his friend feel really, really bad, and potentially rocks him off of his comfortable foundation. In the short term, the friendship breaks, but if it forces him to actually question his value system, it might lay the groundwork for a new, more accepting friendship. Anyone who is queer with an anti-queer-religious best friend is probably familiar with this dilemma.

Wei Wuxian chooses the second option, and goes all in from the first moment, calling Lan Wangji "Lan Er Gongzi" and then upgrading to "Hanguang Jun" and even bowing. If it's possible to bow sarcastically, that's what Wei Wuxian is doing. Then he meets his eyes and sticks his chin out, essentially saying "how do you like them apples?"

(more after the cut!)

Lan Wangji's feelings are probably hurt, but he's too busy being mad to show it, and he goes straight to grilling Wei Wuxian, asking him about the killing, the talismans, and giving up the sword, all while Jiang Cheng stands by and wonders what the fuck is happening.

Lan Wangji is making a fundamental error here, which is he's speaking as if he's an authority instead of as a peer. Wei Wuxian has only ever accepted one authority in his entire life, and that was Jiang Fengmian. Jiang Cheng is the one who, for a change, is approaching as a worried friend, while Lan Wangji approaches as if he has the right to call Wei Wuxian to account.

Wei Wuxian won't answer his questions and is getting in his face, provoking him in a very quiet and controlled way, and Lan Wangji responds by just being really aggressive. It's interesting to see Wei Wuxian completely mastering his emotions while Lan Wangji is completely....not. Wei Wuxian pushes harder, saying he's being rude, saying he's being a bad friend. Which doesn't make any difference to Lan Wanji, who keeps pressing for an answer while Jiang Cheng wonders what the fuck is happening.

Come to Gusu

Wei Wuxian says he already explained, that it's complicated, it will take time to explain, so then Lan Wangji makes the utterly dumbassed demand that Wei Wuxian return to Gusu with him to explain it. What, exactly, is his plan? Bring Wei Wuxian to Gusu and have Lan Xichen (at the very least) and probably also Lan Qiren help him to convince Wei Wuxian that resentful cultivation is bad? How is that likely to work out? Let's have our own flashback, to that classroom interaction that led to the punishment in the library.

Lan Qiren: How will you make sure the resentful energy will only listen to you and not harm others? [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian] Wei Wuxian: I haven't figured that out yet ["details," as OP's dad used to say] Lan Qiren: If you did, the cultivation world would not allow your existence [i.e. we, the Lan Clan of Gusu, will kill your ass]

Lan Wangji probably doesn't think he's threatening Wei Wuxian with death by inviting him to Gusu, but he kinda is, if Lan Qiren was serious back then. Lan Wangji is so upset and fearful that he's not really thinking clearly at this point. He loves Wei Wuxian and he's certain that cultivating with resentful energy will destroy him. [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian] But Wei Wuxian is beyond fear. He's already been destroyed once.

Wei Wuxian rips on Gusu and then says, in a super-provocative way, that he prefers Yunmeng, which prompts Lan Wangji to say "don't joke around" as angrily as possible.

This part of the interaction always confuses me because...shouldn't he prefer Yunmeng? He's actually from there and lives there and belongs there and stuff? He's just saying "I think I'll go with my brother" yet WWX and LWJ both act like he said he'd rather go to Demon City.

Lan Wangji takes a big step forward and Jiang Cheng blocks him while Wei Wuxian continues to act unperturbed and puzzled while holding his demon flute out in between them.

Finally, FINALLY, Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Zhan, and asks him a serious question: What do you really want. Lan Wangji calms down for a second--although he keeps leaning into Jiang Cheng's sword block--and gets to the point, which is that the unorthodox path is dangerous, and harmful to his temperament.

Kill one turtle together and you think you're the boss of me

So, these dudes are talking about 2 different levels of unacceptable cultivation, in this episode and the next few. Netflix translates these as "wicked tricks" and "crafty tricks," which both sound absolutely ludicrous in English, so I'm going to use my own preferred terms, going forward.

I think what they are calling "Wicked Tricks," which includes spirit snatching and feeding people to the murder turtle on purpose in order to harvest their resentment could be translated as Heresy--adhering to a forbidden belief or practice; standing in opposition to Orthodoxy.

Edit: After rewatching Episode 35, in which Nie Huaisang explains why their whole blade thing doesn’t count as “wicked tricks,” I’ve changed my mind about what to call this. NHS says that “wicked tricks” specifically involve the use of humans & human spirits (killing, sacrificing, etc.). Which means Necromancy is probably the better term for this particular type of cultivation, although it is still (also) Heresy.

"Crafty Tricks," which is using resentful energy to raise and control already-dead people (ghosts and zombies) as well as just generally using resentment for basic stuff like beating Jin Zixuan's ass, could be translated as Heterodoxy--deviating from the accepted belief or practice, but not to the point of complete opposition.

Wei Wuxian laughs while Lan Wangji tries to be convincing, but since Lan Wangji is just repeating what he's been taught, he's not making much headway. Instead of saying "there's no exception throughout history" he could have, instead, gone with his own actual observations, such as "you are acting like a sadistic prick" or "you seem amazingly miserable" or "you aren't hugging your brother, what the fuck is that about?" But no.

Wei Wuxian responds to the charge of heresy by saying nuh-uh, and explains his methods, sort of, while going back to calling him Lan Er Gongzi. Lan Er Gongzi responds by actually literally yelling at him, and saying he's not allowed to decide for himself about what he's doing, as if the words "allowed to" have ever meant a goddamn thing to Wei Wuxian.

Temperament

At this point Wei Wuxian is done. He goes and gets right up in Lan Wangji's face and sticks a metaphorical knife right in his heart, smiling as he does it. "How do others know my temperament?" he asks; "and why should it be their concern?" i.e. you are not in my heart.

This makes Lan Wangji so mad he calls Wei Wuxian "Wei Wuxian" for possibly the only time in the show, and he also flashes a whole bunch of angry teeth. (Gifset here). In a callback to the JFM-YZY fight back in Lotus Pier before the war, Wei Wuxian just calmly says "Lan Wangji" back at him, and then tells him to go fuck himself.

Jiang Cheng still doesn't understand what the fuck is happening, but this is a sentiment he understands, so he also tells Lan Wangji to go fuck himself, reminding him that Wei Wuxian is Jiang clan property and it's not the Lans' place to discipline him. Adding "and I'm not going to discipline him any way, look how good he is at killing people!"

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continue to stare into each others' eyes from a distance so close that it really should lead to making out, but they are both much too angry for that.

Wei Wuxian is as cold as we ever see him, smiling as he silently confirms: I do not belong to you. Lan Wangji glares back, his anger maybe finally giving way, a little bit, to being hurt.

Finish Him!

Wen Chao picks this moment to wake up and crawl over to the trio, begging Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng to save his life, since he presumably knows it's pointless to beg Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian turns around and gives him the EXACT SAME dead-eyed smile he just gave Lan Wangji, and kicks him.

Then he tells Lan Wangji to please leave so he and his brother can finish torturing this dude to death, and caps it with an official Jiang Clan eye roll.

Lan Wangji, poor bb, just throws in the towel, and turns and leaves, the anger finally starting to leave his face and be replaced with something else...chagrin, maybe? Or maybe just softer anger, for the moment.

After he's out of sight Wei Wuxian turns and looks after him sadly, all of the cruelty and hardness gone from his expression, while Wen Chao says "forgive me," possibly voicing what Wei Wuxian is thinking.

Lan Wangji walks out the front gate, troubled, and hears Wen Chao scream. He stops and replays the most pointed part of the fight in his head - the part where Wei Wuxian asked him, "who do you think you are?" Lan Wangji went into the fight believing he was completely right and was entitled to judge Wei Wuxian, but he's come out of it with his certainty shaken.

Family Time

The Yunmeng brothers go to the ancestral shrine in Lotus Pier even though the whole "reclaiming Lotus Pier" scene doesn't happen until Episode 24. So apparently they just kind of sneak into the the shrine, and then sneak back out. Or, you know, continuity error. Anyway Wei Wuxian is nothing if not adept at sneaking around death-related places.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng bow and offer incense. It's nice that the Wens didn't fuck up everybody's name plaques when they were in control of the place...or the tassels, candles, etc.

Wei Wuxian quietly tells Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian that he did what they asked--taking care of Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli--and they can rest now. Nosy parker Jiang Cheng wants to know what he's saying, but Wei Wuxian just changes the subject.

They talk about going to Qinghe for the final combat of the Sunshot Campaign. Wei Wuxian says that's why he returned, which...dude, you can't even pretend you came back to be with your loved ones? Ouch. Jiang Cheng doesn't really react to that, but he's happy when Wei Wuxian says he wants to see Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian wants to know if she's ok and if she's mad at him, and Jiang Cheng says wait and see, because direct answers are not the Jiang Clan way.

Jiang Yanli is helping tend to the wounded, and we see her telling a particularly fussy wounded dude to suck it up and stop complaining.

When Wei Wuxian shows up she totally stops paying attention to the wounded dude so that she can smile at Wei Wuxian.

He looks back at her tearfully, briefly managing to smile but then just trying to hold it together. He has been to hell and back, and doing his very best to hide it, but when he sees the person who loves him most--the person who will NOT spend 20 minutes yelling at him as soon as they see him--he starts to crack open.

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #my gifs #canary3d-original

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crimson-wrld · 3 years

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Whumptober 3 - "Who did this to you?"

CW: referenced kidnaping/captivity, stabbed, blood, implied domestic abuse, referenced threats, wound tending

Caretaker is just about to relax in his bed to watch tv when his ringtone sounds. He groans, setting the remote down in the mound of covers and reaches to grab his phone off the nightstand. The number that shows is one he doesn't have saved and doesn't recognize. Normally, he wouldn't answer, but something inside him convinces him to.

“Hello?” he answers. At first there is no response, just a quiet rustling and heavy breathing into the phone. Caretaker rolls his eyes, must be a stupid prank caller calling him at eleven pm. Just before he hits the end call button though, a raspy voice speaks.

“...Caretaker?” the voice calls, starting meekly before growing slightly louder.

Caretaker's heart misses a beat, breath catching in his throat when he hears it. He couldn't believe it, he can't remember the last time that voice met his ears.

"Whumpee? Is that you?" He asks in disbelief.

There's a second of hesitation before he receives an answer, "Yeah… it's me… Are you busy?"

The speech is slurred and slow. Caretaker can't help the irritation that bubbles up in his core. He hasn't seen Whumpee in almost a year at least, he left with no warning, only a single text, suddenly completely ghosting Caretaker, and now, he's calling him this late, like nothing happened?

"Are you drunk, Whumpee?" Caretaker asks, his annoyance clear in his tone.

"N-no, i'm not drunk…" The answer comes back, still slurred. Caretaker wonders if Whumpee even registers what he asked.

He rolls his eyes, "Then why are you talking like that?" Caretaker asks angrily, his mood completely changed from the serenity of before. Of course he missed Whumpee, but if Whumpee could just throw away their friendship… their relationship… so easily, then Caretaker could feel a little betrayed.

Okay, he feels very betrayed.

"I'm-I'm not... talking like anyth-" Whumpee's words are cut off by a sharp gasp that turns into a low hiss. Caretaker furrows his eyebrows. Something isn't right.

"Are you hurt?"

On the other end of the phone, Whumpee clutches at his side, eyes screwed shut tight. At the question, they blink open, and he glimpses down at his hand. Red slips through his fingers and begins to pool beside him. He breathes in, trying to regulate his heartbeat.

"No."

Caretakers annoyance fades. As much as he wants to stay mad and ask why Whumpee left him, he can't help the concern that takes over.

"Whumpee. I know-- knew you. I can tell somethings up. Where are you?"

Caretaker can hear the pained hesitation even through the phone. It takes nearly a minute for Whumpee to answer.

"Caretaker… I-I need you…" he whispers.

When Whumpee finally coughs up an address, Caretaker is in his car in an instant. He soon arrives at a house, dimly lit from the outside. He grabs his first aid kit from the seat and rushes to the front door, finding it unlocked. He steps in cautiously, calling out for Whumpee.

"I'm in here…" he calls back. The house is almost completely dark. Caretaker follows the voice into the kitchen where he sees a shadowed figure crumpled on the floor. There is a small amount of light coming from the windows, Caretaker uses it to locate the lightswitch on the wall. He flicks it and turns, gasping at the sight.

Whumpee is sitting there, staring blankly at the wall. A large purple bruise rests over his right eye, and dried blood forms a line under one of his nostrils, smudged over his lips and chin. His face is littered with cuts. He's absentmindedly holding onto his side, hand covered in blood.

"Oh my god Whumpee!" Caretaker exclaims, surprised. He didn't know what he expected, but it surely wasn't anything this bad. "We need to get you to a hospital!"

As if coming out of a trance, Whumpees eyes snap open, he almost looks caught off guard by Caretaker himself.

"No, N-no hospital…"

Caretaker finally shakes off his shock, rushing to Whumpee's side, quickly joining him on the floor and fumbling the latches of the first aid kit open. Whumpee gives a delayed flinch, and stares dazed eyes back at Caretaker.

"Whumpee," Caretaker says softly, lightly grabbing his wrist, "I need to see..."

Whumpee bites his lip, and reluctantly loosens his hold, letting Caretaker move his arm away. He pushes up Whumpees shirt, gulping down the lump in his throat, the feeling of nausea he suddenly notices.

Nearly every inch of skin is covered in a menagerie of colour; red, purple, blue, yellow splattered like paint over Whumpees flesh. Then, there's the gash just above Whumpees hip, jagged and gruesome.

"...Who did this to you?" He whispers with a shaking voice, his wide eyes watch carefully as he puts on gloves and begins to clean the wound.

Whumpee wracks through his brain for an answer. There's a name sitting right on his tongue, ready to pass through his teeth like the very breath he breathes. He swallows it though, he knows the hurt that will come from rushed decisions.

Much like the one he's in right now.

"I can't tell you that- ah!" He says, crying out When Caretakers fingers press on sensitive skin.

"-Sorry. Why can't you tell?"

"You don't understand, Caretaker." Whumpee sighs, running a hand through his hair. He wants to relish in Caretakers company. He can't remember the last time he heard his voice, the last time he slept wrapped in his arms, covered in blankets and warm kisses, the last time he truly felt comforted, felt safe. But calling him was a mistake, a rushed decision of panic he shouldn't have made.

"What do you mean? Whumpee, whoever fucking did this is a bad person-"

"You think I don't know that!?" Whumpee yells, accidently jerking the wound, lighting the other bruises on fire along with it. He grabs Caretaker's hand instinctively, squeezIng through the pain. Caretaker lets him.

An old habit.

Whumpee whimpers and closes his eyes, "Im protecting you…"

He lets go of Caretaker's hand to let him finish tending to his wound, looking anywhere but Caretaker's eyes.

"Protecting me..?" Caretaker asks. He tries not to let his emotions hinder his ability to properly help. This situation has torn his soul in two. He doesn't like seeing Whumpee like this.

"I didn't want to leave you," Whumpee whispered. Caretaker finishes bandaging the cut, finally, he gets to look at Whumpee… look at how he's changed.

His hair is a dark brown now, different from his natural dirty blond, and he wears a choker around his neck. Whumpee hates having stuff around his neck, he'd never take a necklace from Caretaker.

Whumpee notices Caretaker looking, and reaches slowly to grab his hand again.

"It's how he likes it…" he murmurs softly, "He threatened to hurt you if I didn't leave you, if I didn't go with him. I shouldn't have called you, I'm putting you in danger." Whumpee says with a shake of his head, tears falling from his eyes.

"I miss you Whumpee… This person is hurting you… I mean look at you! You're their captive!" Caretaker says, tears falling from his own eyes, unable to stop his voice from raising. He doesn't know if he'd rather the truth be that Whumpee didn't like him anymore and just left on his own volition. Anything would be better than this.

"I know. I miss you too," Whumpee responds, his heart breaks into a million more pieces inside his chest. He hates that he has no choice. He doesn't want Caretaker to end up like him; a shell of his former self, broken for someone to control his every move-- his every thought.

"Then who is this 'he,' Whumpee? Let me help you." Caretaker pleads to him with wide open, worried eyes, his voice cracking.

Whumpee looks down at their hands still interlocked, lets himself feel that comfort, even if just for a little while. He knows Whumper will be home soon, and he will not let Caretaker go down with him. So he swallows his wants like he's learned to, clears his throat and stands his ground for the first time in a long time.

"Nobody."

Taglist:

@myst-in-the-mirror

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you #whump #whump writing #blood tw #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump scenario

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iimpavidwrites · 4 years

Text

Benzaiten Steel and the Fragility of Perception

or: reasons why setting boundaries is important #1283

I’ve figured out a reason why Benzaiten Steel stayed with his mother instead of doing the “sensible” thing and moving out. I think that it’s possible, too, that Juno has always been aware of the answer but, in the scope of Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection, he isn’t able to face it head-on because it contradicts his black/white, either/or sense of morality.

TL;DR: Despite Juno Steel’s unreliable narration we are able to see clearly the enmeshed relationship Benzaiten had with their mother Sarah and the ways in which that unhealthy family dynamic shaped Juno Steel as a person.

Sources: 50% speculation, 20% lit crit classes, 30% my psychology degree.

Juno’s perception of Ben is shallow and filtered through the limitations of human memory. We all know by now, too, that Juno’s an Unreliable Narrator™. In light of this, we need to ask ourselves why it is that Juno remembers Ben as happy, supportive, and only ever gentle in the challenges he poses to Juno. Throughout the episode, Ben’s memory is clearly acting as a comforting psychopomp: he ferries Juno through the metaphorical death of his old understanding of his mother (and also himself) and into a new way of thinking. He does this through persistent-but-kind questions, never telling Juno what to do or how to do it. This role could have been played by anyone in Juno’s life (Mick and Rita come to mind first) which makes it telling that Juno’s mind chose Ben to fill this role.

Juno’s version of Ben is cheerful, endlessly patient with Juno and Sarah, and above all he is compassionate. He acts as a mediating presence between Juno and Juno’s memory of Sarah and he doesn’t ask a whole lot for himself. If this is Juno’s strongest memory/impression of Ben’s behavior and perspective, then we can draw some conclusions about the roles they each played in the Steel family unit: Juno was antagonistic to Sarah and vice versa, and Ben was relegated to the role of mediator for the both of them.

Juno: She’s just evil. Ben: That’s a big word. Juno: “Evil”? Ben: No, “Just”.

We can see in this exchange that Ben is a vehicle for the compassion Juno needs to show not only to Sarah but to himself, too, in order to move on and evolve his understanding of his childhood traumas.

This is not necessarily an appropriate role for a sibling or a child to hold in a family unit.

In family psychology, one of the maladaptive relationship patterns that is discussed is enmeshment. Googling the term you’ll find a lot of sensational results (e.g. “emotional incest syndrome”) that aren’t necessarily accurate in describing what this dysfunction looks like in the real world. This is in part because enmeshment can present many different ways. So, in order to proceed with this analysis of Benzaiten Steel’s relationship with his mom, I need to define enmeshment.

Enmeshment occurs when the normal boundaries of a parent-child relationship are dissolved and the parent becomes over-reliant on the child, requiring the child to cater to their emotional needs and to otherwise become a parent to the parent (or to themself and/or to other children in the family). This is easiest to spot when a parent confides in a child as if they’re a best friend, disclosing details of their romantic life, expecting the child to give them advice on coping with work stress, and similar. Once enmeshment occurs, any kind of emotional shift in one member of the enmeshed household will reverberate to the others; self-regulation and discernment (e.g. figuring out which emotions originate in the parent and which ones originate in the child) becomes extremely difficult for the effected child and parent. When an enmeshed child becomes an enmeshed adult they often have issues with self-identity and interpersonal boundaries. For example, they may struggle to define themselves without external validation and expect others to be able to intuitively divine their emotions. After all, the enmeshed adult could do this with their parent and others easily due to hypervigilance cultivated by their parent and they may not understand that such was not the typical childhood experience. These adults are often individuals to whom the advice “don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm” is often relevant and disregarded. They may perceive their own needs as superfluous to others’-- and resent others as a consequence.

Another layer of complication is added when the parent in an enmeshed relationship is an addict, as Sarah Steel was. The enmeshed child often times becomes the physical caregiver to their parent as well and must cope with all the baggage loving an addict brings: the emotional rollercoaster of the parent trying to get clean or the reality of their neglecting or stealing from their child to support their habit or their simply being emotionally absent. Enmeshment leaves children with a lot of conflicting messages about their role in the family, how to conduct relationships, and how to define themself.

We only get an outside perspective on this enmeshment in the Steel family. It’s clear in the text that Juno’s relationship with his mother was fraught. He jokes in The Case of the Murderous Mask that she didn’t kill him but “not for lack of trying”, implying that Ben’s murder wasn’t the first time Sarah Steel lashed out at Juno-- or thought she was lashing out at Juno but hurt Ben instead. During the entire tenure Juno’s trek through the underworld of his own trauma, Juno asks the specter of Benzaiten over and over, “Why did you stay?”. This is a question that Juno himself can’t answer because Ben, when he was alive, probably never gave him an answer that Juno found satisfactory. There are a few possibilities, which I can guess from experience, as to what the answer was:

Ben may never have been able to articulate that his relationship with their mother left him feeling responsible for her wellbeing.

Or, if he ever told Juno that, Juno may have simply brushed off this concern. After all, as far as Juno was concerned, Sarah was only ever just evil. To protect himself from his mother’s neglect and codependence, Juno shut down his own ability to perspective-take and think about the nuances that might inform a person’s addiction, mental illness, abusive behavior, etc.

It is likely that Ben thought either his mother needed him to survive or, alternatively, that he couldn’t survive without her-- as if often the case with children who are enmeshed with their primary caregiver. It was natural and necessary for him, from this perspective, to stay. Enmeshment is a very real psychological trap.

It is often frustrating and hard as hell to love someone who is in an enmeshed relationship because, from the outside, the damage being done to them seems obvious. See: Juno’s assertion that Sarah was just evil. Juno is, even 19 years later, still angry about Sarah Steel and her failures as a parent and as a person. His thinking on this subject is very black-and-white. He positions Sarah as a Bad Guy in his discussions with Ben-the-psychopomp and the childhood cartoon slogan of “The Good Guys Always Win!” is repeated ad nauseum throughout Juno’s underworld journey. This mode of thinking serves two purposes:

First, it illustrates the role Juno played in the household: he was opposed to Sarah in all things and Sarah did not require any compassion or enmeshment from Juno. Juno was, quite possibly, neglected in favor of Ben which would create a deep resentment… toward both Sarah and toward Ben. This family dynamic would reinforce Juno’s shallow moral reasoning and leave him with vague, unachievable ideals to strive for like “Be One of the Good Guys” or “Don’t Be Like Mom” -- ideals that he can’t reach because he is a flawed human being and not a cartoon character, creating a feedback loop of resentment toward his mother and guilt about resenting Benzaiten. That guilt would further bolster Juno’s shallow memory of Ben as being infallibly patient, kind, loving, etc.

Second, Juno’s black/white moral reasoning is an in-text expression of the meaning behind Juno’s name. When “Rex Glass” points out that Juno is a goddess associated with protection, Juno immediately has a witty, bitter rejoinder ready about Juno-the-goddess killing her children. Juno was named for a deity who in some ways strongly resembles Sara Steel and he resents that he is literally being identified as his own mother. Juno-the-goddess has one hell of a temper, being the parallel to Rome’s Hera. Juno is not a goddess (detective) who forgives easily when she (he) knows that a child (Benzaiten Steel) has been harmed. This dichotomy of “venerated protector” versus “vengeful punisher” causes psychological tension for Juno that is only partially resolved in The Monster’s Reflection. The tension is not fully resolved, however, because Juno never gets a clear answer for the question, “Why did you stay?”

The answer is there but it is one that Juno doesn’t like and so can’t articulate: Ben is enmeshed with Sarah who named him, of all things, Benzaiten and that is why he stayed. We’ve already seen that names have intentional significance in the text. Benzaiten is hypothesized to be a syncretic deity between Hinduism and Buddhism, is a goddess primarily associated with water. Syncretic deities are fusions of similar deities from different religions/cultures; their existence is the result of compromise and perspective-taking and acceptance. Water, too, is forgiving in this way: it takes the shape of whatever container you pour it into... not unlike a child who is responsible for the emotional wellbeing of their entire family unit. Not unlike Benzaiten Steel.

Ben stayed with his mother because his relationship with his mother was enmeshed, leaving him little choice but to stay, and this ultimately led to tragedy. Sarah Steel’s failures as a parent are many and Juno still has a lot of baggage to unpack in that regard, especially where Ben is concerned. It’s unlikely that we’ll get the same kind of “speedrunning therapy” episode again but I know that The Penumbra is committed to a certain amount of psychological realism in its character arcs so I am confident in asserting that Juno Steel isn’t finished. Recovery is a journey and he’s only taken the first steps.

#juno steel #benzaiten steel #meta #the penumbra podcast #benten steel #sarah steel #psychology #enmeshment #bad parenting #iimpavid writes #chatter #the monster's reflection #the case of the murderous mask

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Russian Roulette

Spencer Reid x Female Unsub Reader

Thanks to my beta readers! @definitelynotkatesblog and @clean-bands-dirty-stories

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING

Includes: Suicide, Attempted Suicide, Toxic Relationship, Gun kink, Angsty smut -There is no specific dominant person in the smut-

A/N: Please do not read if you are easily triggered or under the age of 18. This was really difficult to write but I am really happy the way it came out! I have a playlist I made for writing this if anyone is wanting it just ask! My requests are open for basically any character you can think of, I want to branch out and write lots of characters!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

——

The warehouse that I had found myself masking my location in was in no doubt the most ghastly place I had chosen yet. I wasn’t sure what drew me to the abandoned depository, maybe I had subtly acknowledged to myself that I was at the end of my rope-I knew I couldn’t run forever. The smoke colored walls matched the ashes dropping from the cigarette I had lit to alleviate my anxiety. The cat and mouse game I had been playing with the team that was on my trail was coming to an end. They had an extra vendetta set out against me since I cruelly betrayed the trust built between us. Polluted air swirled around me as I dug my nose in a book, trying to distract myself from my impending doom.

A noise drew my thoughts away from Catcher in the Rye that I had been reading while sat on a shitty mattress, practically the only furniture in this hole in the wall. My manicured nails snuffed out the cigarette into the bed and discarded the paperback, knowing that this was the start of the end. The double doors swung open as the recognizable silhouette Dr. Reid, his shadow was tall and lanky, with noticeable wild curls that looked as if he had rolled out of bed. He finally graced my eyes with the details of his figure, every step he took had lingering hesitation. It had been weeks since I had last seen him, he looked considerably more tired since he had last graced me with his presence, purple dark rings sat under his eyes, his hair even more disheveled then normal, and his clothes lacked the crisp ironing that he usually sported. I hated that I was the one that had caused his disheveled state, I had found a kindred spirit in Dr. Reid. It seemed like we were made for one another, our interests were exactly aligned, the only major thing that separated us was my penchant for murdering people. He was the first person I had felt connected to since my mother and it pained me to see that my betrayal had obviously weighed heavy on his mind.

“I see you finally found me.” I stated nonchalantly as I stood up, he was standing as far away as he could, from my observation it was evident he was disgusted with me but he was still drawn to me like a moth to a flame. He nodded solemnly, the words that he wanted to speak seemed caught in his throat, so instead his eyes bored into my soul. We stood in contemplation just staring at each other, we were only a few feet away from each other but it felt as if we were worlds apart.

“Was it ever real?” He finally spoke up in a shaky voice, his lip quivering in either anger or sadness. “Did you feel what I felt?”

“I hadn’t been real to anyone in a long time until I met you.” I spoke honestly, though I wasn’t sure if he believed me.

I felt the memory of our first meeting flash before my eyes, a murderer had crashed into my hometown, killing important people with checkered pasts. Politicians, lawyers, and police officers- no one was safe. My job as a therapist put me straight into the cesspit of what I viewed as the worst of humanity, slimy high ranking fixtures of the community. I often felt my skin crawling as sick human beings put on a facade of perfection hiding their nefarious deeds behind closed doors, so I began taking care of them by slitting their throats in the dead of night.

When the BAU rolled into our city they immediately put everyone connected with the victims into protective custody. There wasn’t an immediately obvious motive so the team had collected anyone with an important role putting each person with a specific team member. I had been put with the genius of the team Dr. Reid. The stay in the safe house with him made our relationship blossom, we shared interests, hobbies, and even our backstories (I had edited mine a bit so they wouldn’t catch on). Usually I viewed the world as black and white good or evil and until I met Dr. Reid I hadn’t felt grey before just a dark cesspool of no emotion.

I had never even spoken his first name, I had told him that- “Someone who earned 3 PHDs should have their achievements recognized all the time.” I still couldn’t deny these strange feelings that welled up inside of me, no matter how hard I tried to distance myself.

When I had been spotted by the doctor running from the scene of a crime I could practically hear his heart break and to be honest mine did too. I never wanted him to see this side of me that I kept buried, I had wanted to stop for a while even after that first kill but what had first started out as vigilantism turned into a compulsion to kill.

His screams broke me out of my reminiscing my eyes snapped up to see the doctor holding his gun, pointing it straight at my heart.

“WHY?! Why you?” He broke out of his previous calm facade, letting me in on the anger I had stirred underneath.

“You know the profile Doctor you tell me” I asked, though no answer was given.

The gun was shaking in his hands, his fury boiling over, steam was practically coming out of his ears.

“Pull the trigger Dr. Reid. It’s what we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it? Let’s skip the reminiscing. So go on. Pull the trigger.” His grip faltered, he wasn’t sure where to go from here, should he take you in? Or completely screw regulation and take out his unbridled rage on the woman who had cruelly stolen his heart by shooting her.

The weapon was lowered, his hands still shook in fury as he put it back snugly in its place. I already knew he had called his team, no matter what he felt for me before there was no way he would risk his career to let me go. Even though I had accepted the cards that had been dealt I wasn’t going to let them take me alive. Tentatively I stepped forward, wanting to gain a semblance of closeness between us before I sacrificed myself, his body was rigid in its place as our chests touched.

I pulled the gun from his his side holster, it was an odd gun for an FBI agent to carry, a revolver to be exact. My fingers gripped the curved cedar handle, dragging it across Dr. Reid’s clothed collarbones, his arms were stiff at his sides unmoving. He was unsure of my intentions with the weapon. He knew logically that I was cornered in this abandoned warehouse with no escape, and obviously I couldn’t do much with a single revolver, that’s why he had only put one round in, reserved only for my heart if the trigger was needed to be pulled. Then I softly, with uncharacteristic tenderness, grabbed the good doctor’s hand with my free hand to guide his large palms to envelope my hand over the gun. He seemed flustered, which was odd to me, his resolve of hatred had never weakened around me until now. Our hands were clasping the gun in unison, the clammy palms of Dr. Reid cradled my own as I reached over and spun the chamber to land on a random spot.

I prided myself on the ability to read people but I couldn’t ascertain the reason behind the evident hesitation in his eyes as I encouraged him to carefully set the revolver snug against my jaw. Was it possible he had developed a care for me or did this just boil down to fear of having an unsub handle his gun. His breathe was mixed with mine, I held my pattern evenly while his had become ragged, strong enough to whisp my hair away from my face. With a flick I unlocked the safety and a genuine smile graced my face, if these were my final moment I was glad I got to spend it with Dr. Reid, he brought me a strange sense of comfort that I had never known before. His whole body was shaking as my forefinger moved to the trigger- he almost looked as if he was going to cry. A resounding click echoed off the dull gray walls of my hiding place, I had momentarily escaped my fate.

Dr. Reid suddenly smashed his lips onto mine breaking me out of the brief relief. My body had grown rigid against his movements, I wasn’t used to emotional connections with anyone and they certainly were never romantic. Just the delicate touch of his hand on my hip was more care then I had ever been shone before.

My cold exterior that I had carefully constructed was now in ruins because of Doctor reid. He was the only one who truly saw who I was, past my trauma and the trauma I caused. I melted into his forceful kiss, the unspoken tension that we had created finally was boiling over. It was full of tongue and teeth, our noses bumping as we poured our feelings into the kiss, speaking without ever making a sound. My back collided with the nearest wall, dust flying off to coat our bodies, his knee parted my legs and rested between my thighs. His spare hand left my hip to cradle my cheek practically engulfing my face with his large palm, raking the soft pads of his fingertips across my skin.

The silver barrel still rested under my chin being held precariously by our joined grip, Dr. Reid’s hand left my cheek, snaking its way down to the waistband of my pants. The tips of his fingers danced at the edge building anticipation in my veins.

He suddenly pulled the gun out from under my chin and set it under his own, my eyes widened in confusion my desire vanishing by the second. I tried to pull our unified hold away from his jawline but unfortunately he was stronger then me.

“I don’t know if I can live without you” he choked out, he had used his profiling skills deducing that I was going to sacrifice myself. He spun the wheel setting the bullet in another indiscriminate position, resetting the stakes all over again.

“It’ll be ok.” I begged desperately trying to talk him away from the ledge, just because I had wasted my life didn’t mean he had to as well. I brought my available appendage and covered the outside of his hand continuing my efforts to pull the gun away from his grasp. He shook his head, tears were freely falling from the both of us, mixing together to form a salty pool. His fingers slipping underneath my encased hand finding the trigger with ease, he pulled it quickly a sickening click resounded through the stale atmosphere. Once I was satisfied that he had survived air quickly left my body releasing the breath that I had held tightly in my lungs.

Mimicking his reaction from earlier I submerged us into another kiss, this one was tinged with my anger from his reckless move. I voiced my displeasure surrounding his actions by biting into his lip, bruising the plush tender skin. A groan escaped from him, the salacious kiss was now tainted with blood from his lips mixing together in gory harmony.

Undulating my hips onto the thigh that still sat between my legs, desire snuck itself back inside of me, rebuilding what had been banished. I suddenly had the urge to remove every cloth barrier that remained between us, I needed him now. Dr. Reid clearly shared the sentiment as he started pulling on the clothing covering my body. I did my best to shuck off his plum colored blazer with my available phalanges while he attempted to snap open the front of my pants. Our hands still were glued the wooden hilt of the gun that was rooted in its spot at the edge of the doctor’s jaw. The buttons of his dress shirt popped around us as my painted nails dug into the cotton, tearing the offensive fabric from his body. With frantic inelegant movement our outer clothing was ripped off our forms, the only barrier that lingered was our undergarments. His nimble fingertips wound around to the clasp of my bra tugging forcefully the clasp broke, freeing me from its confinement.

The lace was discarded in hast revealing my breasts to him he surged forward capturing my nipple in his mouth as my hips ground into his thigh. Circling my bud he glanced upwards, taking in the sight of my flushed cheeks, hair slicked with sweat, and the gun that I had swiftly moved to my temple removing it from his mandible. Excitement prickled in my core as he meandered down to where I craved him the most, he fisted the mesh- the last remaining remnant of clothing covering my body. A tearing noise filled the space, reverberating around us as the mesh separating us was torn away from me, revealing my full form.

His deft fingers gathered the building excitement between my folds, then he brought them to make contact with my clit. He rubbed slow harsh figure 8s against my pearl, I could feel myself getting wetter- which I didn’t think was possible. The ministrations continued for a while, but I was antsy to get his fingers inside of me. A beg almost fell from my mouth when all of a sudden with no warning his fingers plunged into my heat making my body convulse around him. He curled them expertly, nudging them perfectly at my g spot making the pit in my stomach grow and spread throughout my entire body.

Our hold had started to loosen on the gun so I clutched around the revolver tighter tugging our entangled fingers to rest the metal shaft perfectly against my temple. Upping the stakes further I rapidly clicked the trigger, the gun still had not administered its bullet into my brain, making the obscene act even better then before. His eyes held fear for a moment but couldn’t help his reaction to the clicks, a deep seated groan from deep in his chest. The sensations flowing through my body almost became too much to bear as he moved his thumb to my clit. My back arched against the wall as he sunk the blunt edges of his teeth into my collarbone while flicking against my clit with his thumb, sending me closer to bliss. He must have discerned that I was close to the edge and pulled his fingers away, his knuckles bumping against my g spot one last time which pulled a pathetic whimper from my throat while screwing my eyes shut.

I heard the tell tale sign of a belt buckle clinking causing my eyes to snap open, his full body was finally on display for me. My eyes drank in the sight before me, the doctor was just as I had imagined in my dreams, not too thick but long enough that I thought it might not fit. I reached forward to pump his length spitting into my palm as I jerked him off.

“Jump.” He whispered desperately into the shell of my ear, with careful precision my legs wrapped around his naked torso as I locked him in. The gun was the only barrier that remained between us as he lined himself up to my entrance and thrusted in one swift motion, breaching my walls for the first time.

“Fuck.” The soft expletive fell from his rose hued lips on the column of my throat making my toes curl.

His hips snapped into mine starting a pace with deliberate deep thrusts, my free arm wrapped around his neck trying to pull him in as close as possible. My fingers then wound through his messy curls yanking back so I could pepper kisses along the nape of his neck earning a sharp grunt from Dr. Reid as he picked up the pace. I bit the inside of my cheek in concern as he moved the gun to be placed under his jaw again. Tears started to fall again from my eyes as I silently pleaded for him not to pull the trigger, he ignored my pleas and reset the bullet to a random position once more. His rhythm faltered as the gun clicked for the fifth time, I knew we were testing fate too much at this point and that our luck was running out.

He kept the gun in its position while he picked up his momentum resuming his previous pace. My blood red nails dug into any part of him that I could grab onto leaving red streaks down his chest, back, and biceps as he reached parts of me that I didn’t even think existed. Our eyes locked together as his cock brushed against my g spot causing me to clench around him, we both moaned at the sensation hurtling us both closer to release.

I reached my hand down to rub harshly on my clit as I felt my climax coming just around the corner, my eyes rolling back in response to the added titillation. I then dragged our encapsulated hands away from Spencer pulling the barrel inside my mouth, his fingers flexed around mine anxiously as he soft whispers into my ear attempting to save me from myself. We both had somehow sensed that it was the end, I thought it was very fitting to end my life in the arms of the only person in the world I could find myself caring about. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they were now at a slow languid pace trying to savor every last moment he had with me.

“Spencer” I moaned in bittersweet symphony as I let myself kiss his bruised lips for the last time, our tears were falling giving our kiss a salty taste. A feeling of bliss suddenly overtook my body as I came in glorious crescendo. I rode out my high before I accepted my fate, my blood pounding in my ears for the final time. The wall was painted with blood as I pulled the trigger, ending my life with a bang.

*****

The shot rang in Spencer’s ears, it took him a minute to realize what had happened and that the object of his desire was gone. He was still holding the gun as the body of his unattainable love slumped onto him in death, his face speckled with scarlet. Finally the offending object slipped through his fingers clattering on the floor as he cradled her body.

His sobs echoed the empty rooms bouncing off the the walls mixing with the police sirens in the distance.

“He loved and he loved and he lost her, and it hurts like hell”-Fleurie

Tag list for Russian Roulette:

@zhuzhubii

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #angst #smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

Text

fire & ice au - javid

i have an au concept. and it's,, very convoluted. and more serious than my typical fics. but, i present to you, something i came up with during my TGS days:

a little thing i like to call the "fire & ice au", for lack of a better title at the moment.

so, in this universe, you have your 'normal people', but you also have... not necessarily mutants, but a different variation of people. they look like typical humans, but these people are born with powers and/or abilities.

because i am gay, these powers and/or abilities are elemental and connected to the natural world.

ANYWAY, those born with powers are respected in varying ways, and the powers are separated by 'classes'- so, within this group, there's a hierarchy between powers based on perceived purity/'importance'.

more, plus Javid content, under the cut!!!!

OFFICIAL SOCIETAL HIERARCHY:

Born of Ice; upper class

Born of Water; upper-middle class

Born of Earth; middle class

Born of Fire; lower class

CLASS DESCRIPTIONS:

Born of Ice: these people are seen as 'pure' and 'regal'; people Born of Ice are not as common as others, which is what makes them more 'desirable'. they tend to be more respected, and are stoic, cold, and calculated. though they're highly respected, they're still very dangerous.

Born of Water: they're much less rigid than those Born of Ice, and are more common, but they're still respected a reasonable amount by the general population. they're kind, but tempermental; unforgiving but loyal to those who treat them right.

Born of Earth: those Born of Earth are laid back and caring; they have other's best interests at heart and are the natural caregivers of the population. they're often very bright and bubbly; these people are the middle ground between 'Normal People' and those born with powers.

Born of Fire: these people are the least desirable in the eyes of society. they're seen as dangerous and destructive; however, they're very warm, and faithful toward those they love. they're treated unfairly, but make up most of the population amongst those with powers.

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES:

Born of Ice: their skin is very cool-toned. they have what looks like frost on certain parts of their body; fingertips, cheekbones, shoulders. all of them have striking blue eyes, no matter what their family history is. also, their body temperature is naturally lower than a regular human's; they can't be in extreme heat without feeling deathly ill, and are easily burnt.

POWERS INCLUDE: creating frost and ice; snow is also common, but not really? also all of them suck at emotional regulation, so stressful situations create more violent destructive outbursts.

Born of Water: their physical attributes aren't as extreme or rigid: most, but not all, have blue eyes, and most have curly/wavy hair. those Born of Water are easily masked in crowds! however, they do have distinct scents, like saltwater or rain. not many weaknesses.

POWERS INCLUDE: water manipulation/rain creation

Born of Earth: they basically look like regular humans, but they have brighter green eyes, and- in some Very powerful individuals- they'll have vines wrapping around their upper arms/ankles. not many weaknesses.

POWERS INCLUDE: floral manipulation/minimal healing

Born of Fire: HERE we get extreme again. those Born of Fire have warmer skin tones; they also have brown/orange/red eyes. their fingertips, cheekbones, and chest oftentimes appear charred. they're also prone to scarring. extreme cold is highly uncomfortable for them; they have a naturally high body temperature, but cold makes them feel drained and tired much faster.

POWERS INCLUDE: flame manipulation, heat manipulation. emotional outbursts are common, as their tempers aren't the best.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

those Born of Elements are typically respected ONLY if they're of an Elemental family.

so, say someone is Born of Ice, but they're the only one in their family who has the power.

they would be an outcast, and would be treated very unfairly, because even though Ice is the most acceptable by a societal standpoint, it's STILL different from being 'normal'.

the same goes for everyone Born of Elements, no matter the class. if they're the only one in their immediate family, they're automatically the lowest on the totem pole.

ACTUAL AU:

i say ALL OF THAT to say:

Javid au with Jack as someone Born of Fire, and Davey as someone Born of Ice, and exploring that relationship along with societal pressure.

i don't necessarily have a reason for davey being Born of Ice other than he would be SO pretty with the unnaturally blue eyes/frosty attributes

and jack, a working boy, with charred skin and fiery eyes, who radiates warmth and comfort despite being told every day that all he brings is danger and destruction....... GOD...........

and the juxtaposition between fire and ice would make for SUCH an interesting relationship dynamic?

because, well, davey is cold- figuratively and literally. he's not rude, but he's calculated and quiet and and not exactly the most outgoing person.

meanwhile, jack is passionate and loud and loyal to a fault; he's the embodiment of the sun, in terms of personality, and that sometimes comes back to bite him in the ass.

but together, they'd be unstoppable.

jack warms davey up; he teaches him that there is no weakness in being open, he laughs with him, he makes sure that davey is always happy and safe.

meanwhile, davey cools jack down; he helps him think before he acts, he teaches him to only fight when it's worth it, and he helps Jack keep his hot-headed nature under control.

and it's really interesting, seeing how the PHYSICAL side of things could play out ?? bc like. even holding hands would be weird, bc jack is naturally warmer and davey is naturally cooler, and it's a fine line of keeping themselves in check so not to accidentally hurt each other. jack could easily burn davey, or davey could make jack ill by lowering his body temp too much; it's dangerous, but they make it work.

they always make it work.

PLOT ??

i imagine it being in canon era; most of the newsies are Born of Elements, cast aside from their families for having their specific abilities.

SIDE NOTE: abilities usually show up around the age of,, ten??

anyway, the newsies have their elemental attributes, and most of them were the sole elementals in their family.

jack has been a newsie since he was eleven; his father didn't exactly take the news too well that his only son was Born of Fire. it actually jack a long time to climb the ranks amongst the newsies, because he was seen as the 'lowest' on the elemental hierarchy. but once he's seen as the 'leader' of the newsies, things change; all boys are treated the same, no matter what abilities they have, and jack makes sure of it.

now, enter davey jacobs.

davey- and his younger brother- join the newsies after their father is injured.

les fits in well; many of the newsies also have no elemental abilities, so he's easily taken in, but... davey is a different story.

because davey is Born of Ice.

and, well, people Born of Ice are rare. there aren't many in the general population, which means that davey is the only manhattan newsie Born of Ice.

when he shows up, most of the newsies are very taken aback; they have a lot of questions, like why davey still has his family and why davey wasn't outcasted and why davey, who SHOULD be at the top of the hierarchy, has to be a newsie to support his family.

OKAY THIS IS TOO LONG BUT BASICALLY: CANON ERA, FOLLOWS THE STRIKE AND ALL OF THE EVENTS AFTERWARD

please send asks if u guys like this ahhh!!!

#THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY #newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #fire & ice au #elemental au #newsies musical #newsies live #livesies #newsies 1992 #92sies #toursies #javid #javey #jac writes #jac txt.

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healingchildhoodtrauma · 4 years

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Understanding and Working with the Window of Tolerance

As infants when we have healthy attachment interactions with attuned, consistently available, nurturing caregivers this lays the foundation for the optimal development of our brain and nervous system. Over time this co-regulation (assisted regulation) allows us to learn how to effectively auto-regulate (self-regulate independently).

"Window of Tolerance" a term coined by Dr. Dan Siegel is now commonly used to understand and describe normal brain/body reactions, especially following adversity. The concept suggests that we have an optimal arousal level when we are within the window of tolerance that allows for the ebb and flow (ups and downs of emotions) experienced by human beings. We may experience hurt, anxiety, pain, anger that brings us close to the edges of the window of tolerance but generally we are able to utilize strategies to keep us within this window. Similarly we may feel too exhausted, sad, or shut down but we generally shift out of this. Below is a diagram demonstrating the ebb and flow of an optimally regulated nervous system experiencing activation followed by a settling.

(Levine, Ogden, Siegel)

When we experience adversity through trauma and unmet attachment needs this can drastically disrupt our nervous system. Our senses are heightened and our experiences and reactions are typically intensified and strategies are less readily accessible to us. Adverse experiences also shrink our window of tolerance meaning we have less capacity to ebb and flow and a greater tendency to become overwhelmed more quickly. Learning how to track and shift our affect can be a powerful tool for promoting regulation and integration throughout the brains, body, and mind.

Regarding arousal states: hyperarousal, calm arousal, and hypoarousal.

Calm arousal is the ideal state and that most times during the day we fluctuate within various levels of calm arousal. However, when we become too over-stimulated (fear, pain, anger, trauma triggers etc) to the degree that it pushes us outside of our window of tolerance this is hyperarousal.

Hyperarousal is characterized by excessive activation/energy often in the form of anxiety, panic, fear, hypervigilence, emotional flooding etc. This keeps our system stuck on on and impacts our ability to relax, often making it difficult to sleep, eat and digest food, and optimally manage our emotions. At the most intensified level this may result in dissociative rage/hostility.

Hypoarousal may occur when we have too much hyperarousal, surpassing the pain/emotional overwhelm our brain/body is able to tolerate, causing us to plunge into a state of hypoarousal (shutting down or dissociating). In this state our system can become stuck on off characterized by exhaustion, depression, flat affect, numbness, disconnection, dissociation etc. This too impacts our sleep in that we may want to sleep all the time, this impacts our appetite and digestion as well and may make us feel emotionally deadened.

What I have observed however is that as human beings we only have capacity to stay in one state for so long before the brain and body shifts us. For example, we can only tolerate so much pain, anxiety, fear etc before the brain and body respond and numb us to this excessive energy. Similarly people will only stay in a shut down state feeling emotionally deadened inside before the brain/body shifts us out of this often by gravitating towards (often subconsciously) things that make us feel alive. This could mean that we gravitate towards high risk behaviours or activities uncharacteristic for us to bring about that sense of excitement, activation, and vitality. Essentially we are self-preserving as there is some part of the brain / body that is not ready to be dead yet.

Many people will share that they "don't feel right", "are crazy", "messed up" etc. The know that they don't feel okay but without having experienced regulation in infancy and childhood or following unresolved traumatic experiences that remain activated in the brain and body people may grow up in a manner that they don't know how to self-regulate. Instead, people often attempt to self-regulate and bring themselves into an optimal/calm arousal level any way that they can, without even knowing this is what they are trying to do. For example someone with excessive fear may gravitate towards a depressant to calm their brain and nervous system whereas someone feeling emotionally deadened may gravitate towards a stimulant to make them feel alive.

Understanding the function of how people are responding and what may be needed to effectively shift this emotional state is critical for finding effective strategies to shift arousal that don't lead to further harm to self or others or leave the individual with a sense of shame. This can be referred to as a false refuge in that it provides the "illusion" that it is helping but in the end the problem is still there and maybe even bigger and now we have layered on shame, guilt, a sense of failure etc., as we have responded in a way that we didn't want to. A "true refuge" is something we do for ourselves that effectively allows us to shift towards our optimal arousal zone while building competencies and taking care of ourselves in a manner that feels good.

Parents, loved ones, and teachers/staff can help by identifying and labelling (making observations based on how children are presenting) “It looks like you are feeling overwhelmed, why don’t we take a break” etc. Dan Siegel refers to this as "name it to tame it". Naming it allows for a sense of understanding and being seen as well as validation. When we stop to notice (within ourselves or others) this can be a powerful grounding tool. Children, youth, and adults should be encouraged to focus mindfully on noticing how they feel, how their body feels, and identifying what they need to feel right again. Our goal is to essentially broaden this window of tolerance increasing capacity for people to hold emotional experiences (even intense ones) without become dysregulated or going into a state of hyper or hypo arousal.

When we understand where people are within this window of tolerance it allows us to target treatment or teach them and their loved ones skills and strategies to effectively promote affect regulation. The function of the behaviour is important to understand with compassionate curiosity. For example, for the person who is self harming are they self harming because the pain they feel is so intense that the self-harming behaviour is the only thing that provides release, or are they doing so because they feel so emotionally deadened that they self-harm to feel alive. This can help to effectively target treatment. If we have too much, discharging the excess energy and intense emotions will often help to shift things, think about it...this is precisely what happens when intense emotions build then explode out of us through conflict or chaos. There is a release of the emotional build-up but it is messy and harmful for us and those around us. Instead learning how to effectively release these intense emotions can be helpful. Similarly if we are feeling shut down, using strategies to optimally stimulate our brain and nervous system in a healthy and empowering manner can shift us out of this state in a away that feels good for us.

I have included some sample interventions below, but again these are general strategies. Those unique to the individual will have the greatest efficacy. Often these can be discovered in therapy as well, at ATTCH we train therapists all over the world to learn how to deliver trauma-specific integrative treatment many other professionals are also providing training in these areas and as such the amount of therapist providing integrative trauma treatment is growing regularly.

Some examples for shifting arousal levels are included below.

The key is figuring out what works and when. At times some activities may be down regulating / grounding while at times the same activity may be stimulating. Try different things and find what works well for you. Practice strategies when you are calm and on a regular basis, this will build your capacity to access these when you start to become overwhelmed. If introducing activities to a client or loved one, it is important to monitor the affect of the individual you are working with and request feedback from them to notice how they are feeling.

Sample activities to decrease arousal include:

Diaphragmatic breathing (deep and slow tummy breathing)

Drinking from a straw

Throwing a therapy / yoga ball at a blank wall or outside wall

Jumping on a trampoline or mini trampoline

Weighted blanket

Warm water

shaking or stomping out excess energy

Therapy / yoga ball (rolling along back when child / youth is lying face down on mat – gentle but firm pressure)

Heavy work (lifting, pulling, pushups, wheelbarrow races, crab walk, leap frog etc.)

Music (soothing and calming music and sounds)

Comforting food (hot chocolate or something chewy but smooth such as a tootsie roll)

Sample activities to increase arousal include:

Anything that stimulates the senses!

Smelling essential oils (smell is the fastest way to the thinking brain - where our strategies are!)

Chewy crunchy food

Use of sensory shaker (ball pit) for tactile input

Movement

Jumping on a trampoline or mini trampoline

Gently sitting and bouncing on therapy ball (simulating rocking motion)

Rocking chair

Weighted blanket

Finger painting

Water play with a straw (blowing through the straw)

Dancing and music

Elevated arousal makes it more likely that an individual will be more reactive, startle more readily, have difficulty concentrating and focusing, feel unsafe in open or crowded spaces, and constantly be scanning for threat even when no threat is present (Scarer, 2013; van der Kolk, 2014; Steele, & Kuban, 2012). This is important information for schools to understand as well.

When providing support to others it is important to recall that trauma is marked by a loss of control, therefore the ability to establish control and experience a sense of safety and empowerment is of priority in the face of real or perceived threat. Dan Hughes provides a great visual for this (see below) demonstrating how warm touch, face, voice communicates with our amygdala to promote a sense of safety. I would suggest (based on Stephen Porges work) that this generalizes to all interactions when we are communicating with a soft voice, soft facial expression, gentle posturing, and gentle and welcomed touch this promotes a sense of safety and provides a calm attuned presence. You can increase empowerment and safety as follows:

Respond in a right-brain (sensory) rather than left-brain (cognitive) level. Adjust the tone, volume, cadence of your voice, proximity, body posturing, breathing etc., to a level that will present as calm helping to coregulate the individual you are interacting with

Validate their emotions and offer to help them regulate (it looks like you are feeling angry, would it be helpful if we..(insert strategy known to help here)

Allow for choice and control (when in an activated state threat is readily perceived and in fact assumed – this is why reactions are often so exaggerated. To reduce the arousal level provide opportunity for them to do what they perceive as necessary to return to calm (going for a walk, throwing a ball around etc)

Do not engage in behavioural and cause and effect approaches (i.e., if you do this then…). These are higher function, left-brain responses and not something they are capable in the moment, rather this is likely to result in increased escalation.

(Hughes, 2009)

In summary, learning how to shift your arousal level, the arousal level of your loved ones, or those you work with can be a powerful tool for promoting integration and building competencies. It can also lead to feeling more comfortable in ones own body and more confident in the ability to manage emotions and maintain relationships.

https://www.attachment-and-trauma-treatment-centre-for-healing.com/blogs/understanding-and-working-with-the-window-of-tolerance

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kingofthewilderwest · 3 years

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This hasn’t been a good year for me first I was stalked then I lost someone who I thought was a friend because my mental health issues caused me to impulsively lash out at people I been apologizing and apologizing they refuse to listen to me all they told me was get outside help. The thing is I was there for them when they needed me but when I needed them they abandon me I am autistic and have trouble regulating my emotions I explained that to them when they told me that I keep lashing out at people even after I apologize for it. :( what should I do? Should I just just keep spamming how sorry I am and that I will keep my mouth shut and not lash out at people anymore I just want them to like me again I don’t like lashing out at people I have no control over that why can’t they understand? How many times do I need to cry in their inbox until they realize how sorry I am and that this time I won’t lash out impulsively.

Hello, friend. <3 I'm really sorry for the struggle and pain you are going through. That's tough. My heart reaches out for you. I was in an extremely similar experience once (I'll talk about the experience and results below), so I both care about your situation, and I hope my message can help you with your choices moving forward. My phrasing might sound blunt, but every word is written with love, and I will give comfort through the end, so bear with me. Sorry that I suck at brief. XD

From the way you’ve described your situation, you’ve already been messaging friend(s) repeatedly explaining your actions, giving apologies, etc. My answer is under the assumption you’ve been sending repeated messages. Here’s the unfortunate kicker.

You need to stop messaging them. Period.

If you want them to feel better and feel better about you, you need to give them space for a decently long period of time without breaking that silence once, it doesn’t matter if your desired topic is helpfully explaining how you tick, apologizing, or talking about something entirely unrelated to the drama.

I know that's probably the hardest thing to do. I know for me, when I was in a situation like this, every fiber of my being *SCREAMED* at me to try to make things right by messaging again. I was so terrified I couldn’t leave it alone. I understand how scary it can be for someone to not listen to your apology. I understand the drive to get someone to understand your circumstance for why you messed up. I understand the overpowering pressure of guilt for having done something wrong and the itch to keep acting until I make it right. But you can't make it right by messaging someone repeatedly.

While your intent is reparation, your result is harassment. I'm so sorry to say this, but if you’re messaging like that, you are continuing to inflict pain and make matters worse because your constant messaging gives them no relief. It’s like constantly picking a scab to make it bleed again rather than letting it heal without touching it. If you pick that scab too much, you’ll lose more blood and you’ll get a scar. Lots of people, after being hurt, need time to process their emotions before they can be comfortable resuming a chill conversation. So long as you keep acting like this, they aren't going to want to listen to you, and your actions are going to make them wish they weren't around you. They’ll see you in a worse light because if you can’t give them time and space to heal themselves and you can’t stop fixating on past events, then they see that you’re not handling the situation well.

Now. If you do talk to them again, after that *LONG* break, there are several things you have to do. Ask if it’s okay to talk first and be clear it’ll be a one-time event. Be rational, be calm, be objective, accept responsibility for yourself without trashing yourself or sounding desperate for their response, and make sure you acknowledge their feelings and experiences as much as your own. Accept responsibility for yourself in your words. Make sure you listen to them, too, and respect their thoughts.

I know that’s hard to do. I can get scared, tongue-tied, and emotional in conversations like this. The way I get around that is writing down what I’m going to say beforehand. That way, I can spend several days carefully tweaking my words so they’re optimally diplomatic (and have someone else check me if I need a second perspective). Now I have a script I can follow that can prevent me from tumbling into babbling emotion. “I’m sorry, I’ll keep my mouth shut, I just want you to like me again” will turn more people away, unfortunately. People don’t trust that because it sounds like you don’t have control of yourself, which makes them think more bad things could happen. Level-headed but kind discussion of the issue is essential; it shows you are *capable* of handling the situation. Showing capability helps engender trust. Also, please make it clear to your friend(s) that once this convo is done, the goal is to move on.

Note that your friend can say “no” if you ask to talk. And that’s okay. If they say “no,” leave it at “no,” and don’t try to get a “yes.” Your friend can still say “no” to points you make during your conversation. Those aren’t the words you want to hear but you have to accept them if they come. Stay humble. Do not try to get them to fully be in sync with you because that may be impossible and only hurt everyone more. All you can do is present yourself at your best; after that, it is their choice how they respond, and their responses must be accepted. If they are bitches, that’s on them, and you’re better off not being friends with shitty-ass uncaring bitches. If they choose not to be friends with you for understandable reasons, it hurts, but it’s valid; we do not have to be friends with every person we meet, even if they’re cool. And if they choose to forgive you, which they could too, then you guys have a basis to move forward again without reopening cans of worms. I do want to reassure you: I’ve had plenty of conversations like this go well and friendships get repaired. <3 It can be done.

Now. You said you feel your friends aren’t helping you at your time of need. I understand the pain of supporting a friend but the friend doesn’t reciprocate at the time I need them most. This was hard for me to learn, but: a friend is not obligated to help you. Yes, good friends will help when they can. Yes, if you’re only helping them and they’re nevvvvvvver helping you, that’s a one-sided relationship and that’s a bust. But healthy relationships also have boundaries and “no”s. It’s not a contractual obligation to help a friend through everything. Plus, not everyone has the skillset to help you for every need. Friends who are not used to neurodivergence might not know how to handle neurodivergent-specific challenges (that’s what I’ve experienced with my own support networks). You can explain it and hopefully they’ll get better about understanding how you tick, though. There’s even types of friends who understand how you tick but still not want to be around it, and sometimes that’s because they have to protect their own health. They can understand you lash out but still need to leave to heal themselves because lashing out hurts them, and they don’t have the energy or emotions to help or listen to you right after. They have enough on their plate trying to keep themselves going without assisting someone else too. Those things can happen. You may find out what type of friends yours are later.

And I know it’s really hard to regulate emotions... I’m saying this as someone who had extreme issues regulating my emotions due to neurodivergence and mental illness, albeit of different kinds... but ultimately mental health is an explanation, not an excuse, and you are still responsible for the results when you are cognizant enough to act well enough. You are valid for being autistic and that is not a problem, that is who you are period, and if they don’t respect that, that’s their issue. Explaining why you act like you do is a first step. It’s good to communicate and I think it’s good you want to your friends to know why it’s hard. But you do have to work at getting better with your treatment of people, too. Sometimes we do things outside of our control. Sometimes these will never be in our control. But some things will be in our control. Part of our responsibility as a friend is to not just admit we hurt someone in the past when we’re at our worst and least controllable, but make an effort, as we can, to prevent these things in the future, as we can. Figure out prevention tactics. Figure out ways your friends can be equipped and prepared if something happens. Find professionals who can help you with emotional regulation. And so forth.

Your friends do have a point about getting outside help. I love supporting my friends and helping them through emotionally dark times, but sometimes a friend’s mental health struggles are out of my abilities and I can’t be expected to be the one to handle it. I cannot help my friend with heart surgery because I am not a heart surgeon; likewise, sometimes I can’t help my friends with mental illness ailments because I am not a professional psychologist. If it is within your budget, this may be a valuable resource for you that will help you, your friends, and more.

If you’re anything like I was, what I said may make you want to go into another round of apologizing, but before you do that (you shouldn't! you can't!!!!), I want to explain what happened to me. This involves me talking about the worst period of my life, the worst mistakes I ever made, and the worst legacy I'll have to contend with. I haven't talked about it on tumblr because I haven't wanted people to misread me or judge me, but the truth is, those old mistakes are a defining characteristic of my everyday life because of how thoroughly I fucked up and hurt someone else by my desire to "make things right."

I was eighteen and sharing a dorm room with my high school significant other. We broke up several months into the school year. At first things were okay, but then our friendship started to slide. We both did foolish things and wrongdoings against each other. The result was my ex needed breathing space to heal, whereas I felt I needed to heal by coming closer to them. As you can see, these are opposites, and it... didn’t work. It resulted in me pestering them and them wanting to get further from me.

I was also suicidal at the time. I had undiagnosed ADHD and rejection sensitive dysphoria and maybe more, and all that put me in the worst psychological state of my life. My emotions were more powerful than I could control. I had no coping mechanisms yet. My diary entries sometimes don’t sound... sane... from that time period. Being suicidal, I begged my ex for help, and my ex said “no”. My ex was rude and cold (understandable... hard to be polite when you’re stressed), but still, she had a right to say “no.” No one is obligated to do anything, but I was extremely emotional at her denial. Terrified for my life, I tried telling my ex that I had helped HER through HER problems when SHE was depressed, why the fuck wouldn’t she help me with my low point? I felt like she abandoned me and I told her so. I was intending to suggest she was breaking a promise and being an uncaring, unfaithful friend... but my words came out sounding like I was guilt tripping. My friend felt emotionally abused, forced into a situation where someone was threatening their life if she didn’t do what I said.

That’s a lot of pressure on someone, a roommate screaming at her that she had to do X or someone would die. It’s a cruel thing to shove someone into. I did that. I did it accidentally, my only intentions were making amends and saving my life, but I’m still 200% responsible for the results. It destroyed her psychologically, and ten years later, I don’t think she’s fully recovered.

When I recovered from the worst of my mental illness lapse, I felt sick to my stomach about how much my emotional responses harmed her. Thus began my rounds of apologizing. At first she coldly “tolerated” it, but I couldn’t leave it alone because it didn’t feel like closure. She outright told me she would never forgive me and that made me more desperate. About once every six months for the next three years, I tried talking to her. She felt harassed. She increasingly hated me. Soon, she thought I was stalking her, and sent the start of what could’ve become legal action against me. One time, I tried talking to her about something entirely unrelated (I was trying to save a friend who was having panic attacks and my ex was unknowingly responsible for the panic attacks), I panicked, I grabbed her arm, she threatened to call the police on me, had the teacher drive her home from class, and the next thing I knew, we were both in the university’s Office of Student Conduct. Oof.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

For the rest of my life, I will have to contend with the fact I fucked up the person I loved the most, and that the best thing I could ever do to help her was... to... leave... her... be.

If I had let my friend breathe after my first apology, if I had given my friend space to process through her hurt emotions until she no longer felt hurt, we might have been able to rekindle a friendship. But I never gave her the time to heal. I never respected her “no, stop talking to me.” My apologies were intended to make her feel better because I knew I was hurting her, my apologies were intending to say “I’ll never hurt you again!” But instead I kept digging a deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper hole.

I realize this is a dismal story. I don’t want to scare you. I want you to read this private story of my pained heart to understand what happens when I let desperation do all the talking. I want to share it to show how much I care for your situation. And I want you to understand that... after I learned taking a step back... I had radically better results with the friends I got into conflicts with. It took a ton of effort and work to retrain my conduct, but it worked, and I’ve found stabler and happier and relatively drama-free relationships. And if I fuck up for some reason mental-health-wise, it’s usually a single conversation and done to get us back on track.

I fuck up, but I’ll never fuck up like that again, never ever EVER, nowhere CLOSE. And that’s a... happy ending in its own right, yeah?

I do believe in you. I believe that not every story has to end like the one between my ex and me. I want to give you that hope. I believe you have a good heart and you definitely want things better. You wouldn’t have messaged me (and I believe... others... on tumblr?) if this didn’t matter to you. And anyone who wants to do something about a problem has the starting kernel of Betterness happening. I believe you can find more peace. Maybe it won’t come right away and maybe there’ll be rocky points, but life can become better, relationships can become better. There are ways, even with mental health struggles, to find that comfortable equilibrium again.

I wish you the best, friend. Take care. <3 Rooting for you. I apologize if any of my words ended up coming out wrong accidentally. I really do hope you find some relief in this situation. <3

#long post #ask #ask me #non-dragons #don't mind me

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zosonils · 4 years

Note

surely post some autistic ferb things for us all,,,,,,

hell yeah anon!! here’s an absolute hell dump of Ferb Autism Indulgence Things because i have really been wanting to get my grubby little autistic hands all over him lately

his special interests are engineering and tetris [which is the game he’s internationally ranked in!]

he stims vocally by humming or repeating other vocalisations, but rarely with actual words

if he’s too nervous to vocalise/just not in the mood he goes for small hand movements to stim like clicking pens or tapping his fingers

he does flappy hands/arms when he has a lot of excitement to release! otherwise he prefers to stick to smaller/more subtle motions for a variety of reasons

he only repeats actual words as echolalia, almost always off of either phineas or perry! that thing they do where perry chatters and the boys mimic it and they all just loop off each other for a while is absolutely an echolalia loop for all of them [yes even the platypus]

a very epic headcanon i have is that owca agents are typically labelled as having therapy animal training to give them some more wiggle room with showing intelligence, so perry is officially a therapy platypus for the flynn-fletcher kids, especially the boys. ferb does the aforementioned echolalia chatter thing with perry and also just generally finds him extremely comforting to hold. of course perry’s figured out all of ferb and his siblings’ needs by observation and makes sure to subtly be as comforting as possible for his kids, especially if they’re having a meltdown and need to hold someone who won’t try to talk to them

ferb genuinely dislikes communicating verbally, due to a combination of general social anxiety, struggling to translate his thoughts into words, and finding it physically uncomfortable to talk. it’s not serious enough to prevent him from cracking a joke or vocalising his thoughts every once in a while, but he prefers to be nonverbal as much as possible and communicate through gestures and body language

throughout the series he only ever speaks on his own terms and as much as he’s comfortable with, so it comes out without issue, but if he’s forced to talk when he doesn’t want to or while he’s under stress he struggles to string sentences together and stutters really badly. fortunately he’s got nice friends and a great family so this issue rarely presents itself, although it comes up sometimes during the school year in battles with pissy neurotypical teachers over oral presentations

over time he starts to work past the discomfort [genuinely, it’s on his own terms as opposed to masking to get allistics off his back] so that by the time he’s an adult he can hold an entirely verbal conversation for a decent while before it drains him, but he still tends to avoid speaking if he can

phineas instinctively understands ferb’s silent emotional cues, a lot better than he understands most people’s [but that’s a whole other infodump lmao], and unless ferb actively indicates that he wants to talk for himself phineas usually speaks for both of them and translates any of ferb’s less neurotypically obvious signals

phineas and ferb made The Ultimate Fidget Cube as one of their daily projects [they were being mass produced for an hour or two and then something or other happened, there was a mobile phone and an avalanche of instant noodles, long story short only the handful they made for themselves and their friends are left now] and neither of them go anywhere without it

ferb doesn’t have any specific comfort/security objects but he feels significantly more at ease if he’s got some kind of tool in his hand or within reach [or, failing an actual building-stuff tool, anything he can hold and Do Something with, like a pen or his fidget cube or a video game controller], and is a lot more stimmy with his hands and generally anxious if he isn’t holding something

perry performs the task of comfort item better than any inanimate objects but platypi aren’t allowed to come to school even if they’re very polite :(

believe me the brothers have tested this numerous times

school is stressful for ferb because it fires up his sensory overload and is usually where he’s forced to do some neurotypical shit that upsets him, but his friends always have his back and linda and lawrence are definitely super involved in making sure their kids’ needs are met and respected by their teachers, so he manages pretty well unless something really bad happens to set him off

he’s susceptible to sensory overload, mostly with bright lights, sudden noises, and being touched. the light and sound involved in many of his and phineas’ projects is alright because he usually designed them and knows exactly when they’ll come on and what it’ll be like, but if he doesn’t have that prediction available he freaks out easily. being touched [especially without warning] is the absolute fucking worst and he almost invariably flips out if someone unfamiliar tries to touch him or he’s hit with an unexpected sensation he doesn’t like

he only rarely has meltdowns because he’s good at self-regulating when he needs to and his friends and family know what does and doesn’t fly with him, but when he does they’re often triggered by either sensory overload or being forced to talk

when ferb starts entering meltdown territory his verbal skills are the first thing to shut off, and if it gets worse he usually stops communicating altogether and enters a really bad dissociative state that he won’t come out of until he feels safe again and can be carefully brought back to his senses

standard procedure for ferb meltdowns is to get him a weighted blanket and some tea and a perry if you can find the slippery little bugger, let him snap back to reality at his own pace, and once he can communicate his needs again pay extra close attention to them until he calms down enough that he can properly self-regulate again

his favourite sensations are weight/pressure, the funky bumpy shit perry’s tail has going on, and anything soft!

most of his clothes [including his usual outfit in the show] are tight-fitting but made out of soft fabric for maximum comfy

the blanket on his bed is a weighted one, but if he’s too far from his room or it’s too hot to be comfortable under a blanket sometimes he’ll just find the tightest spot he can wedge himself into without getting hurt or stuck and squish himself in there to calm down a bit

his favourite food texture is crunchy stuff, and he samefoods with particular cereals and sandwich combos that rotate every few months when he finally gets tired of the exact same breakfast and lunch every day and wants slightly different identical meals

while he’s fine with variation from day to day, he’s very firmly attached to the summer/weekend formula of wake up > cereal > big idea > where’s perry > [building montage] > mom holy fuck > sandwich > [having fun montage] > our fuckoff massive contraption has vanished somehow > oh there you are perry > snacks > nondescript vibing > dinner > bed time, and if this schedule gets significantly thrown off it really bothers him

ferb shows his emotions more subtly than neurotypicals, which can make him seem hard to read, but his external emotional range is still extremely distinct - he just expresses it in atypical ways sometimes!

one of his most notable atypical emotional cues is that thing he does when he’s startled and he pulls his hands up - he does this in we call it maze when candace falls over on her skates in the beginning, split personality when busting candace scares him, lost in danville when he’s worried another capsule might fall on him or phineas, and the phineas and ferb effect during how do i do it when milo’s exercise bike crashes, just to name a few instances! this boy has Unique Emotional Cues and i love him for it so much

he’s better at reading emotions than phineas [as low as that bar is], but sometimes misses more subtle cues and doesn’t quite trust his ability to read anyone aside from phineas, candace, and his closest friends

he’s been aware that he’s neurodivergent ever since he was diagnosed as a little kid [he was first diagnosed with autism when he was extremely baby, not even three years old, and had it continually reconfirmed as he got older] and he’s been entirely happy with being autistic for as long as he’s known what that even means, with this only being reinforced as he found siblings and made friends with other autistic kids :)

good lord this is such an infodump i’m sorry i just love my son so very much and have been feeling particularly self indulgent today ;<;

#i've been on and off typing at this ask for like six hours help hsjnkdfnkj /lh #i love ferb so fucking much you guys have no idea #[diverges his neuro]#sonic forces me to answer questions #just fucking whatever #THIS post goes RIGHT in the infodump tag #long post #good lord i'm sorry lmao [except i'm not because talking about my comfort characters is awesome]#anon

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fanfalc-616 · 4 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twelve

(Prevoius chapter here)

(Discord Here)

Happy 10th Anniversary!!

Kai is done. He so fucking done with this shit.

He’s getting Zane out, and he’s getting him out right this very minute. It’s already been a month and a half, he’s not going to wait for some long term plan, not when he could be busting Zane out right now!

Kai had spent days and days studying every government file he could possibly get his hands on until he finally figured out where they were keeping Zane.

Some of the things they had written were just plain disgusting.

‘Original has yet to perform as expected, but this is not a large complication as said subject appears to be reaching appropriate behavioral status. Even so, it will require much more regulation before it begins functioning optimally.’

It had taken time to be able to figure out what the hell they had been talking about, but when he translated it he had felt almost sick.

Zane isn’t doing what they want, but they’re starting to make him behave by straight up torturing him. But the worst part is that they don’t even seem to have a problem with that kind of thing.

And even after he had found and translated the files, he had still had to come up with a plan to get inside the near-impenetrable fortress.

There’s a large open field around the base, likely so that they can see anyone who would try to break in or escape.

As a ninja, it’s not even that difficult. He just hides under a truck and hopes he doesn’t fly off as it goes up to the base.

In all honesty, he never thought that the underside of a car would smell so bad. How does Jay enjoy working on these things?

When the truck finally pulls up, Kai carefully unhooks himself and sneakily creeps away, doing his best to not be spotted by the guards.

They scout out the perimeter, but he manages to find lapses in their patterns that let him just barely avoid being seen as he gets inside- though he did have to use Airjitzu at one point.

Caution is the way to go with this. Every step he takes has to be precise. He can’t afford to slip up- not with Zane on the line.

Kai carefully sneaks around, trying to find the cubby that Zane is being kept in. The files he had found gave him a lot more information than he should probably have.

A mission has never been so stressful before. It really shouldn’t be so difficult, but his unease and worry are starting to get to him. Even things as simple as hiding behind a box are leaving him shaking.

If he’s being honest, he probably should’ve told the others about his plan. But they would’ve tried to stop him, probably worrying that he’d get put in jail again.

But this time, he’s not being reckless. This time, he’s putting his best foot forward.

This time, he’s going to save Zane.

It takes him some time to figure out where these cubbies are- because they seriously just put him away like an object on a shelf- and even longer to figure out which one is Zane’s.

Even then, it’s not over. Checking over his shoulder repeatedly, Kai carefully picks the lock, thankful that he had managed to convince Lloyd to teach him.

When he finally opens the locker, he feels relief flood through him.

Then it’s mixed by horror as he sees just how damaged his boyfriend is- they tore his face off. They seriously tore his face off what in the name of the First-

“Kai.” Zane breathes out, a series of conflicting emotions on his face- but they’re all nothing compared to the fear overlaying them.

He looks like he’s near tears, and Kai takes a step forward, ready to finally comfort him, to take his boyfriend home.

Finally.

This nightmare is over.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane punches the faux-Kai in the stomach, somewhat upset the fact that his hands are still cuffed. It will be difficult to fend off the one in place of his love like this, but he will manage.

The false Kai stumbles back, clutching his abdomen. “What was that for?!” He chokes out, trying to move closer again.

Wedging himself further back in the locker, Zane glares heavily. “I will not be fooled by your lies!” He snaps. “This facade of yours won’t trick me!”

Pseudo-Kai glances around, slight panic forming on his face. “They’re gonna hear you!” He hisses quietly. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here!”

He tries to grab Zane, but the white ninja resists to the best of his ability. He is unsure what they have planned in store for him, but he knows for a fact that he will not allow himself to be fooled any longer.

“Release me!” Zane demands, managing to get a kick in hard enough that sends the fake Kai skidding back.

“Zane, we have to get you out of here!” Faux-Kai insists, a look of fear and confusion about him as he attempts to grab the white ninja once again. “We don’t have time for this!”

Zane continues to fend him off, and though he is pulled from the locker, he refuses to give any more ground.

“I would rather be tortured than go anywhere with the likes of you!” He snarls, silently cursing the fact that his hands are bound.

It’s difficult, it’s so difficult to hold his ground when he sees the look of hurt and pain on his love’s face.

But Zane shakes his head, trying to dispel the feeling. No, this isn’t Kai, this is an imitation of him, a false version generated by his deluded sensors.

“Zane, I don’t want to fight you! Please, we need to get you out of here! The guards will be back soon, we can’t-“

That’s it. The guards! If they truly want him to believe that this is Kai, they will take him away when they show up.

But they would not listen if he called for them. They never listen to anything he says or does, so they likely would ignore him. So how could he-

As the pseudo-Kai still seems to be figuring out what to do, Zane darts over to a wall and pulls an alarm.

The guards had come when Cryptor had done such, and they will have to show again for the sake of authenticity.

The false Kai stares at him with a look of borderline horror. “Why would you do that?!” He demands. “We can’t-“

In that moment, the guards appear, quickly surrounding them.

Zane glares at them. “Get him out of here!” He demands. “And you plan to punish me for this defiance, so be it! I have learned from my mistakes, and I will not be fooled again!”

While they start dragging the faux-Kai away, Zane turns and heads back to his locker. Even as the simulated version of his boyfriend yells after him, he doesn’t listen, he doesn’t even look back.

When he steps inside the locker, he closes the door, allowing them to re-lock it.

He will not be fooled again.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Kai shouts after Zane, but his boyfriend doesn’t reply, he willfully goes back inside his tiny cell, not even bothering to look back at him.

“Zane!” Kai calls out to his boyfriend as he tries to resist the guards, but not only are they skilled, there’s just too many of them! “Zane, what are you doing?!”

He’s roughly put in handcuffs and dragged away as he struggles to comprehend what has just happened.

What had they been doing to Zane? What could they possibly have done to make him not even trust the sight of Kai?

He continues to resist, but no matter what he does, he can’t make any progress.

Even when he’s taken outside and put in the back seat of a police truck, he still doesn’t stop fighting, he doesn’t stop trying to get back to Zane, to get that locker open and save him-

But nothing works. The cuffs are vengestone, and the guards are just too strong.

He’s once again taken to the police station, and Kai curses under his breath when he sees it.

Not only did he fail to save Zane, he’s also going back to jail, where his teammates will have to pick him up- again.

When he’s put back in the cell, he sighs, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened.

They need to save Zane. Every moment they wait, he goes through more and more.

But his plans aren’t working. He only gets in trouble whenever he tries.

… maybe he should try actually listening to the others.

“Zane…” he mutters to himself, “Zane, I promise we’ll get you out of there. Just hold on a little longer.”

“Hold on.”

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane is taken to the training room not long after the fake Kai had been taken away and he sighs as he realizes that he will likely be punished for not allowing himself to be tricked.

Martha steps into the room, a rather intrigued look on her face.

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to see your place. You really do belong here.” She smiles, sounding somewhat amused.

Zane scoffs. “I would not be fooled by such an imitation!” He snaps, annoyance taking over him. With all the manipulation they had done, do they truly believe that he would continue to fall for their obvious lies?

“Original…” Martha shakes her head, “if he was an imitation, why would we have taken him away?”

Sighing, Zane decides to hold the conversation, even though it seems to be only to bother him. “To make it seem as though he was real when he was not, to delude me into thinking-“

“No. In what situation have we ever ended an illusion because you wanted us to? We would have created an excuse, claimed that he drew them away.” Martha explains, and Zane hates how her words ring true. Everything they had done so far points to the fact they would do that.

“This- you lie!” He argues against her despite that. He would not have fought off the real Kai, he would not allow himself to stay in this wretched place, he-

“Claim what you will, Original. But you know that I’m right. That was your teammate. And now, you’ll never see him again.”

While Zane knows they can manipulate his sensors, every scam he runs proves that she’s not lying, and every thought process points that what she says is true.

“I… you- it…” He finds himself fumbling for words, desperately trying to find a way to prove that she’s wrong.

“Take it back to its locker. It did good today; no training is necessary.”

Horror has fully taken over him when he’s returned to the locker, and he tries to struggle against them, though he knows it’s futile.

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

He really is just a stupid metal box.

#the rights of a nindroid #ninjago zangst #zangst #ninjago fanfiction #psychological torture #torture #trauma

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2

Summary: After being removed from his own time, Agent Daniel Sousa finds himself in 2020 lost, alone and vulnerable. You, an Avenger, find yourself face to face with Director Coulson and Agent May begging you to help another man out of time. This time however, instead of a super soldier, you meet an average man haunted by war and a time he once knew. Pairings: Daniel Sousa x Reader.

Your eyes stared at the files on the coffee table, the SHIELD logo staring at you, almost mockingly, daring you to open them up and read them. To peer into the personal lives of the people from a past time. To peer into the personal file of the man sleeping soundlessly down the hall. Hands covering the large mug you held between your palms kept your hands somewhat distracted from twitching over the wanting to open them.

You hadn't done it with Steve, but that was because Steve was easy to read. He wasn't a spy like Daniel was. He couldn't hide behind his mask, his eyes and his demeanor gave him away far too easily.

However with Daniel, he seemed to be taking this all in his stride. Eager to learn new things, eager to reintroduce himself back into society. It had been 3 weeks and his demeanor hadn't even faltered under your watchful gaze. At night time, when he was sure you couldn't hear or see him; That was a completely different story.

You reached down and picked up your phone, placing your cup next to it, fully preparing to call the one person on this planet who would know what Daniel was dealing with, what emotions he was feeling; whether Steve Rogers answered his phone to you, that would be decided. It was the unbalanced walk and the steady sound of a walking stick against your wooden hallway that made you pause what you were doing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a the familiar dark haired man standing in the doorway, somewhat frozen to the spot as his eyes glanced around before finally landing on you. A reassuring smile graced your face as you turned in your seat to fully face the former SHIELD agent who was clad in a white singlet and loose pajama pants, "Good morning. Sleep well?" You asked politely, placing your phone down on the coffee table and standing up to meet Daniel halfway into the living room.

"Yeah it was fine," He smiled hesitantly for a moment before pointing to the plush couch, "Do you mind if I-?"

You turned to look at the couch, "Oh no. Please make yourself at home. Anything you need help yourself too. This is pretty much your place as well now,"

"Thanks,".

You hovered slightly behind him as he fell into the couch, his walking stick sitting neatly next to him. You watched as his eyes lingered on the manila folders sitting on the oak coffee table before making their way up to the television. "How do you turn the television on again?" He asked, somewhat hesitantly.

A proper smile graced your face as you made your way to the table and picked up the remote to your TV, "This, is a remote control," You pointed to the large television sitting in the corner, "You find the sensor on the TV, which is located just on the bottom, point the remote, and press the red button," You pressed the red button and the screen lit up to show the familiar news channel you were watching the day before

You watched as an array of emotions crossed Daniel's eyes, his face never once giving away an inch; "How?"

"Please don't ask me that. All I know is I press a button on this and it does things to that,". A small smile crossed Daniel's face as he shook his head slightly and moved his head to look around at your other appliances you had in your home, "Two thousand and twenty. A long way from home," He murmured, his eyes finally landing back on yours.

You placed a hand on his arm and gave a tight smile before reaching over and grabbing the files that were sitting on the table and sitting them on your lap, "Phil came over yesterday when you were asleep. He dropped these off for you," You held them out to him, "Inside is files on your friends, your family, people you worked with; and what became of them over the years,"

His hands hovered over the files for a moment before looking up at you, "Peggy Carter?"

"She's in here too,"

"Thank you" He said sincerely as his hands grasped the folder.

You gave a short nod as you stood up, grabbing the empty coffee mug, to make your way over to the kitchenette. Behind you, you could hear the rustling of papers that you assumed Daniel was reading over. Two cups, three sugars between the both of them and two teaspoons of coffee and you waited patiently for your kettle to finish boiling. Last night was an unusually sleepless night for you, waking up every few hours to check on your new roommate, if he had woke up and if so, how he was coping. You noticed the blank look on his face, the same look Steve once wore. The one that didn't want to show you that he wasn't okay, but you knew that deep down, he was struggling. He was going to continue to struggle until he allowed himself to grieve and accept what he had lost.

"Was she happy?" You heard from behind you. You lifted your kettle off the stove and quickly turned to Daniel who's brown eyes looked deeply saddened. You could see the heartbreak flash across his face and it took you barely a second to figure out who he was talking about.

"In the end? It says here that she had a husband, a few kids," He swallowed the lump in his throat, "Was she happy in the end?"

A small smile crossed your face as you nodded. There's no mention of her husband's name in any files, nor her children; but any time she would speak of them you could hear the pride in her voice; the pure joy she had. "She was happy, I promise" You watched as he returned to the files and closed them, swallowing once again and placing them down on the coffee table.

"I regret not being able to say goodbye. If I just had one more day, an hour. I'd tell her that I lo-" His words were cut off by your front door swinging open and the familiar, bouncy haired brunette walked into the room.

You placed a hand on your hip and shook your head "Audrey we've talked about this. You can't just walk in without knocking,"

The younger woman's eyes widened as she saw Daniel sitting on the couch in his pyjamas. The other man looked increasingly uncomfortable as the silence grew. "Oh my-" She quickly cut herself off and threw her hands over her mouth, "Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't realise that you had company," She stumbled out, a large smile growing over her face.

A small sigh escaped your lips, "Audrey, this is my new roommate Daniel. He's from New Jersey, just bunking in until he gets settled in,"

Daniel gave a small smile as he held out his hand for the younger woman to shake, which she did almost immediately; "It's so so good, great, so great; to meet you Daniel,"

The pair of you raised an eyebrow at Audrey's star struck demeanor; "It's wonderful to meet you too Audrey," He replied. You noticed that he was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable by how long Audrey was shaking his hand so you cleared your throat to draw her attention to you.

"So what's up anyway? I don't expect you to barge in like this until at least Eleven," You picked up yours and Daniel's coffees and made your way into the living room, setting them carefully down on the table, nodding at Daniel's smile of thanks.

"Oh I forgot what month it was," You heard her mumble under her breath before a smile crossed her face, "You know what, don't stress. I'll ask Mrs. Maisel down the hall if she would be able to help me out. You just uh, settle in and get comfortable.," She backed towards the door, "It's was fantastic meeting you Daniel,"

"You too,"

"Bye Audrey," You smiled as you gave her a small wave that she greatly returned before exiting the apartment

"She's a bit odd isn't she?" You turned from the the mug in your hand to look at Daniel who was now staring at the door Audrey left through, "She's harmless. Moved in a few months after me. She's sweet enough," You moved over to Daniel who was watching you with curious eyes, "If she was a bad guy she would have a attacked me ages ago. So far she comes over and vents to me. It's nice, makes things less lonely," "There's something about her..." "Come on, instead of scrutinizing my neighbors, how about we learn the wonder that is Google Chrome," "Google?"

"You're gonna love it," You grinned as you picked up your phone and pulled open a streaming app.

The strong breeze fell over your face as you pulled your jacket around your body tighter, the sun beamed down on your face as the familiar smell of hot cart food and coffee drifted through the air and into your nostrils. You side eyed Daniel who was easily keeping your pace through Central Park, his eyes taking all the views around him. The people, the cars; more importantly you knew that the fresh air might do him a bit better.

"So in Two Thousand and Twelve we found Captain Steve Rogers in the Arctic Circle, still in the plane he crashed, frozen," You continued from your previous conversation about major events of the past years he had missed, "Took him back to SHIELD and surprise surprise, he's alive," You watched Daniel's eyebrows raise into his hairline, "Theory has it it was his super soldier serum that preserved him for all those years. A week or so later I get a phone call talking about something called the Avengers Initiative. Now, I'm not a superhero, in fact, people kinda suck," A small laugh came from Daniel's mouth, "But Agent Coulson called in a favor from me to help Steve assimilate to the 21st century,"

Daniel nodded, "How did he cope with it?"

"He's currently on the run from One hundred and Ten countries,"

A confused look crossed over his face as he paused and turned to face you, his mouth slightly open, fully prepared to ask questions; however before he could you held up your hand to silence him, "It's such a long story. Short version, we screwed up, now the UN wants to put regulations on people with abnormal abilities,"

"Like Daisy?"

You rose an eyebrow, "No idea who that is. But if she has special abilities then yeah, like Daisy. Like me," You both continued to walk, "The problem with that is it stops the Avengers from going where they needed to be. The government decides where we need to be,"

"And that's a bad thing?"

A dry smile crossed your face, "If you ever met General Ross then you would understand why it's bad," You shook your head, "Anyway, they called them the Sokovian Accords. Some of The Avenger's agreed with them, others didn't. Those who did were put under restrictions, those who didn't had a warrant for their arrest set out for them,"

"I assume you agreed with them?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Well you're here. You're not looking over your shoulder,"

You nodded and held up your left arm, a strong silver band wrapped around it, "I didn't agree with it. But my friend made a good point, by signing it at least we can then negotiate it. We wouldn't have a chance if we went on the run,"

"What does your bracelet do?"

"Stop me from being able to use my abilities," You smiled.

"What are they?"

You pointed to the familiar green and white coffee shop in the distance, "Starbucks, possibly the best and worse coffee place you'll ever set foot in. Founded in 1971, the frappacino's are to die for,"

You missed the concerned look on Daniel's face as you started to walk towards the crosswalk. There was a reason why you didn't like telling people about your powers, the exact same reason why you were ashamed of them when you first met Agent Coulson. They were dangerous, even if you were able to somewhat control them, there were times when you couldn't, and you never knew what was real and what wasn't. It was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

You'd like to be able to keep them to yourself for just a little bit longer.

Tags iamwarrenspeacejcc04220pancakefancakebuckywhitewolfbarnesjutima55thegirlwithoutaname87@cleoccnalabarnes1031ovemesomepietrojoyfullyswimmingfaceastudyoftimeywimeystuffnikey-no-likey maraudersandco stanningissohardtruly-dionysus @space-helen @mackycat11 @stuckysdaughter @incorrectqus stanningissohard themistsofmyavalon

#Daniel Sousa x reader #Daniel Sousa #agent carter #agents of shield #Marvel

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fulcrum-agent · 3 years

Text

Comatose

Darkness.

Silence.

Distant gunfire.

Muffled clashes of metal.

Humming magitek.

Distant...

...closer...

Her eyes open, sky blue gaze sweeping across a battlefield. Blue hues reflecting raging fires, glinting twisted metal, pools of blood. Her brow furrows as she realises where she is.

The Bozjan Southern Front.

She freezes in horror as it registers where she is.

When she is.

Eyes wide, she turns slowly, slowly...

A body lies on the ground, clad in familiar raiment, blood pooling beneath the figure.

***Blink.***

She kneels beside the body, frantically casting spell after spell, the weak regenerative and heals seeming to do nothing. Instantly, tears stream down her cheeks as she cries hysterically, rapidly burning away her still-meagre aether reserves. Her gaze flickers about the area, and she wonders why her twin and her lover aren't there.

"Because it's a dream, daughter-in-law."

Wide eyes refocus on the dying man she's attempting to save, her jaw falling at his voice and at his words.

How was he speaking? He couldn't speak...shouldn't talk...and why call her *that*...

A soft smile crosses the dying man's lips as he reiterates gently, "...because it's a dream, Aquila."

Slowly, the aether stops streaming out of her hands as she blinks at him over and over. And then the corner of his lip turns up in a faint smirk as she begins to understand what's going on. Then, weakly, his hand moves to lower hers entirely, placing them on her lap before covering one with his.

"So you're...still dead?" she queries with a deep frown.

The man nods as he replies, "Yeah. Nothing can change that. It was time."

His answer causes her to sigh before she places her other hand over his.

Brow furrowing further, she murmurs, "I...don't understand why we're here..."

She's given that slight smirk again as he states, "...you're sharper than that - my son wouldn't love you if you weren't."

Blue eyes widen again as she whispers a single word, "...Talekeeper..."

The man who would have been her father-in-law nods a few times, the motion just barely noticeable.

"Did he explain what the blade is?" he asks, glancing at the weapon on her right hip. "And what I was?"

Nodding again, she answers, "A little. He told me you were a Blade of Queen Gunnhildr and that the sword was forged for you."

Her response is greeted with a sigh and the faintest shake of his head.

"Telling you everything and nothing," he fondly murmurs, "sounds just like my son."

And then, the dying man does something he shouldn't be capable of at all - he sits up, albeit slowly. Reflexively, his other hand covers the worst of his wounds, blood flowing over his tanned skin. Otherwise, he seems undisturbed by the failing state of his body.

"Everyone in Bozja will tell you something different about what it means to be a Blade, outside of the obvious task of being the Queen's guards," he begins to explain to her. "Even within the Blades, you won't find an exact consensus - we all had different motivations for accepting the position."

She tries not to stare at the wound in his torso, at the blood spilling over his hand, forcing herself to focus on either the hand she's holding or his features and gaze. Had this been real and not a dream, he would have already bled out.

"When I first joined, it was during a time of peace - before the truth of what happened to save Bozja the first time was known. That's not to say we didn't have skirmishes with bandits and the like," he continues, nodding out to the battlefield. "This place wasn't at all like it is now; most of the country wasn't. Hells, sometimes it felt like I had to attend more social functions than actually fight."

"Then...why leave? I know Leth wasn't raised in Bozja," she asks before adding, "especially not going to a bunch of social functions..."

Her expression makes the dying man laugh, blood briefly gushing with each contraction of his midsection. He shakes his head a little, smiling at her for a brief moment.

"I am sorry for that. You've got your work cut out for you, but I'm sure you'll manage," he states, still grinning. "You'd already done quite a bit of good for him before we even met."

She can't help but flush a little. She'd known that her lover had changed in the time they've known one another, but she was surprised that it was as much as her dead father-in-law-to-be was claiming it was. But, unfortunately, she also has no idea what to say in response, so she just gives him a sheepish smile while waiting for him to continue.

"Anyroad, aside from serving my Queen and Bozja writ-large, I thought that it would provide a suitable environment for my wife and later Byleth," he resumes, his expression softening at the mention of his family before becoming worn again. "And then the Garleans invaded, and everything changed..."

There's an awkwardness about her now, at the mention of her homeland's penchant for conquest. He notices and gives her hand a squeeze, exuding reassurance and care.

"You're okay, daughter of mine. While I was a little hesitant when you all arrived in Bozja, I quickly realised you weren't like the people we were fighting," he quietly comforts. "If more Garleans had been like you and your twin, we'd never have had to fight in the first place."

Her head shoots up, her now wide-eyed gaze shifting from their hands to his features, jaw falling again.

"Why-- why do you keep calling me that?"

Despite having a gash across his back from shoulder to hip, despite having a fatal stab wound on his front, the question makes the dying man laugh hard. He's too amused to notice how much blood the movement causes to spill from his wounds, though it's much harder for her not to see.

"Because you're going to marry my son," he replies with mirth. "I'd planned on walking you down the aisle since your dad's well...more of a sperm donor than a dad."

For a moment, she has a stray thought, wondering why her lover hadn't inherited his father's humour - as shocking as his words were. She stares at him, much like some surprised little critter, mouth hanging open with surprise.

"I'm kidding. I know your brother'd likely be the one to do that part," he adds after a long moment of laughing at her shocked expression. "Anyroad, that established, I should finish explaining everything to you before it's too late."

"Too late?" she echoes in confusion.

The dying man nods a little as he points out, "It's a dream, kiddo. You're going to wake up in a little bit, and it'll all be over."

His words make sense, and she nods a little as she gives his hand a squeeze, waiting for him to continue speaking. Faintly, she can sense the presence of her twin, close at hand yet incredibly distant.

"I was nearly captured during the invasion, but my mentor managed to help me escape. For a time, Sitri, my wife, and I went into hiding," he continues, the amusement draining from his features as he speaks. "After she died, I felt it was safer to leave Bozja entirely, and so Sylvain and I took Byleth and started our company once we were well away."

As he speaks of his dead wife, she gives his hand a gentle pat and a squeeze, trying to emulate the comforting air he used on her. He notices the shift in her emotions, swiftly realising how uncannily similar his earlier concern had been. Realisation dawns, and he gazes at her with an entirely new understanding.

"Can you do that with anything?" he asks her.

Confused, she murmurs, "...do what?"

He hadn't expected that she wouldn't be consciously aware of her ability, but he nods faintly at her confusion before he attempts to explain.

"It's one thing to express the same emotion as someone else," he theorises, bloodied hand lifting to rub his chin, seemingly oblivious to the blood that covers such. "It's a whole different thing to express the same emotion with identical intent and reason. Most of us do the former, but you do the latter. I wonder how far such can go."

She's quiet for a brief moment, looking away towards where her brother would be back in the waking world. Then, she murmurs softly, "...it goes pretty far. I learned an Ilsabardian technique without being told how it works - I only saw it in use. I didn't even know what it was at the time. I just...summoned a weapon made out of aether...then had trouble drawing it back in because my opponent hadn't done so."

The revelation causes the man to pause, primarily due to having only ever seen or heard of the Blades of Gunnhildr being capable of the feat. His eyes fall to the blade on her right hip again before they shift back to stare at her.

"So...you have no way to regulate the use of aether?" he seeks clarification.

"I...sort of do. The Captain gave me a piece of Magicite to channel it through - it works sorta like a focus does," she clarifies for him. "But...I have to be conscious for it to work. The whole reason I'm asleep right now is that I got knocked out while using it...and it nearly drained me."

And then, all of a sudden, it becomes even more evident that this is a dream. Withdrawing his hand from between hers, the man who should be dead several times over by now...stands up. He reflexively covers the stab wound with his hand as he straightens, the other motioning to her blade.

"Let me see that a moment, Quil," he requests as he holds out his other hand.

For a very long moment, she just sits there staring at him with a pallid expression before she manages to nod. Then, standing as well, she passes the blade back to its original owner. He flicks his wrist several times, reacquainting himself with his old friend. He makes several slashes with it then, before falling into as much of an en garde as he can manage, with his insides trying to fall out.

"Watch and learn, daughter of mine," he softly states before suddenly channelling aether into the blade; he means it quite literally. He makes a series of motions with the sword, an aether trail forming behind it, and then suddenly flings the excess aether from the blade. It lodges into the husk of a mantis magitek nearby. Before she can even comment, he reactivates the rapier's Royal Armoury, mock-fighting once more before lowering the blade, the aether retreating back into his form - without his consciously thinking about it.

Falling into a more relaxed stance, he looks over to her with a questioning expression. "Do you need me to do it again?" he asks, head inclining just a little. "It's not something you'll master immediately, but do you think you can do it already?"

There was only one way to find out.

She holds her hand out for the sword, and he passes it back to her. Then, taking a deep breath, she assumes the seemingly counterintuitive stance she uses for fencing. Another deep breath, and she begins channelling aether down into the blade, although she doesn't make the series of cuts he had.

Instead, she focuses solely on how he'd discharged the aether from the blade. Without any sort of telegraph, she suddenly makes the same slashing motion he had. The aether that's released is far more chaotic than what he released, its form barely cohesive before it splatters against the same mech.

"The lead-up motions were important, though it might not be quite so obvious," he corrects gently. "It's a matter of piggybacking the aetheric energy off the kinetic energy."

Nodding, she tries again, this time executing an identical series of motions before releasing the aether. It has more form this time, though it's still quite pitiful compared to his; he nods his approval anyway, as he'd already stated it wasn't going to be something she could instantly master.

"Now, the other one," he instructs.

Taking another deep breath, she refocuses on the blade. Although she doesn't assume the mock-fighting was entirely necessary for this one, she did think it was likely good to learn how to cut off the Armoury amid combative movement. Again, she executes an identical series of motions before falling out of an aggressive mindset - not that there's much visible difference in how she stands or how she holds the blade.

Some of the aether flows back into her, but some of it still lingers within the blade. Frowning, she makes the same series of motions again before falling back out of combat.

"Stop thinking about it," he orders, tapping a finger to his temple. "Let your mind empty as you lower your guard."

"...it's not as easy as it looks," she murmurs, looking confused as he bursts out laughing again.

That doesn't sit well with her. However, it causes her to redouble her efforts.

Deep within her mind, the frayed remnants of the conditioning her father had created and her stalker had tried to erase finds something to finally cling to. It wraps itself around the techniques, around the ephemeral mantle being passed, reviving old triggers and creating new. Her eyes close as she concentrates, and she takes another slow, deep breath.

When her eyes open, they're not entirely focused. Instead, a trance-like quality stirs as she begins to execute the motions again - this time identical down to the tiniest fraction of measurement. And then, just as suddenly as she began repeating the moves, she drops out of combat once more; this time, the majority of the aether flows back into her.

He's torn about praising her for her success, debating on whether or not the cost was too high. Unsure of whether the battle-trance was something she learned by watching someone else, or something more, there's a moment of hesitance before he speaks.

"Aquila..." he softly calls as he moves over to her. A hand is placed on either of her upper arms, gently gripping. "I don't know what just happened, but I hope someday you can accomplish this without having to do that."

She gives him a confused look as darkness starts to invade upon the edges of her consciousness. He frowns, sensing not only her confusion but her mind's shifting towards wakefulness. His gaze drops to the sword she's holding, then back up to her features.

"Ask my son about my nickname," he urges in a manner that implies there's more than meets the eye to the request. "And...take care of him for me."

Her brow furrows as the darkness encroaches upon her vision, but she nods at the pair of requests, murmuring, "I promise...dad..."

Without warning, everything goes dark.

Sitting up, she reaches her hand out to where the dying many should have been.

"JERALT!" she shouts before she really focuses on the room.

Beside her, her twin startles from his sitting sleep, rising immediately, hand reaching for his scythe until the word finally processes. Then, hand lowering, he looks at her in confusion.

"You...had a nightmare about his death again, didn't you," he murmurs as he lowers himself down beside her, pulling her into a hug.

She shakes her head a little as she slumps against him, all of the pain her sleep had been keeping at bay flooding over her, especially her left hand.

"No, not a nightmare," she clarifies to him, "more like an extraordinary dream."

Frowning a little, her brother begins to gently pet through her hair, murmuring, "Well, you'll have to tell Leth and me about it once you've recovered."

Nodding, she rests her head against her twin's shoulder, eyes closing as his comforting presence begins to lull her back to sleep.

#the aurelius twins #the aurelius saga #Byleth Eizner #Liocyon Aurelius #Aquila Aurelius #Calcifer

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monaisme · 3 years

Text

One Week Later - Chapter Two

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

He woke up in stages.

The first time he sort of came around, Peter didn’t even bother to open his eyes. In his sleep stupor, he noticed only the blanket. It smelled—which was weird ‘cuz Aunt May knew that scents bothered him, but this smell wasn’t offensive at all—it was fresh, real, maybe spicy? Its weight was off, too. It was heavier than his favourite Iron Man comforter, which was nice. The extra pressure made him feel safer than he could remember, though he didn’t understand why. He just knew he felt like he could sleep forever, and so he burrowed a little deeper into the warmth and drifted off.

The second time he thought about waking up, it was a quiet, underlying hum that drew his limited attention. It was like something, no—everything was vibrating, and not crazy like an engine... more like a cat’s purr and Peter imagined soft fur through his fingers as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. He hummed in contentment. It felt good. It felt relaxing. It lulled him back into sleep.

The third time Peter was aware of his surroundings he knew he had no choice but to stay awake. The blanket still pressed against him, and the hum of whatever still strummed through him—but hushed whispers of a man and woman nearby meant that people were there, that they waiting for him to come back...

And then he remembered.

His eyes flew open as he gasped which alerted whoever was in the room to his waking. Who that was, Peter wasn’t sure as he clamped his eyes shut in embarrassment. How could he have behaved so... gah! How would anyone ever take him seriously when he kept acting like a baby? –First on the battlefield and then before his surgery. If only he could just figure out some way to toss himself in front of a train, then maybe everyone would be distracted from what had happened.

Thoughts flew through his suddenly racing brain at a mile a minute and Peter tried to throw the blanket over his face to hide himself. He couldn’t face them... but then the pain of trying to move his still not healed arm caused him to gasp again and cry out in pain. He’d hoped for invisibility but his reactions brought the hands of his visitors to him, straightened him on the bed.

The pain brought nausea and he was sure he was going to puke all over the nice smelling blanket and he couldn’t feel the hum anymore for the panic he was trying to tamp down and it hurt- it hurt- it hurt...

“You’re okay, Peter. Just breathe through it.” Mr. Stark was at his side, trying to settle him. “You’ve got this,” he encouraged as he ran his calloused fingers through Peter’s tangled locks. “Just keep breathing.”

It only took a minute for Peter’s breathing to regulate, which helped the pain, which helped the panic, which helped with the nausea—and Peter was left only just as tired as he’d been before he’d decided to spazz out like a weirdo, again. He groaned and finally managed to pull his blanket over his head using his good arm. “Kill me now, please?” He whispered to himself as he flushed in utter humiliation.

Mr. Stark heard his pleas, however, and simply replied. “I just got you back, Petey. I’d much prefer it if you made an effort to keep breathing for me, bud.” Mr. Stark gave a light tug on the blanket and stayed beside him.

—Which was new?! Mr. Stark was supposed to say something snarky and then hightail it out of the room to call someone better suited to whatever occasion, be it a nurse or doctor or... well. It didn’t matter. The point was, he didn’t do all of that emotional stuff. The man had always insisted that he was stunted that way—which was maybe true, but it was alright, because he was just... Mr. Stark.

So Peter waited under the blanket and hoped that the room would clear, like it always had... even if Mr. Stark had been off-script, he’d leave, right? Peter just needed to wallow in private for a bit before he had to face—

“Peter?”

He closed his eyes and wondered if he could wait him out.

“Peter? Please?”

Mr. Stark would grow tired and leave eventually, right?

“Hey, kid, c’mon. Let me just see that you’re okay, okay? And if you want some time to yourself after that, I’ll go—I promise.”

Peter snort laughed. That sounded exactly like the old Mr. Stark. “Yeah, right,” he muttered.

Even under the blanket, Peter could hear the huff of frustration from his mentor, and then the scraping of chair legs against the floor as Mr. Stark seemed to station himself more comfortably at his side.

“You’ll find, my dear Mr. Parker, that many things have changed over the last five years... and one of those things is my ability to wait out all things stubborn—be it teammates, children, or alpacas. So if you think this is gonna put me off, you can think again, kiddo. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Peter didn’t believe him.

He knew Mr. Stark. He knew him almost as well as his Aunt May—and was sure that Mr. Stark would start up a fuss soon enough—that this was all a bluff, but then he started to think too much and too fast... again.

Five years had passed. He had no reason to believe anyone was lying about the length of time he’d been in that place. Dr. Strange had said it before the battle, Mr. Stark had said it just then, and May wasn’t... well, May wasn’t here.

Maybe no one would judge him for his freak out?

And he needed answers and hiding under a blanket wasn’t going to get him anything.

But coming out of from under the blanket meant getting those answers, and the start of the now telltale tingling of his spider-senses told him that putting this off just a little longer might—or might not—be a bad thing.

Peter sighed as he warred with himself.

“Peter?”

His eyes filled and he fought back tears. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Promise. I, um...” his voice warbled. “I think I need a second, please.”

A gentle press of a hand against his good shoulder, still trapped under the blanket, “You can take all the time you need, as long as you’re okay. I’m right here when you’re ready.”

Peter blew out a slow breath and a few tears fell. “What happens if I don’t think I ever will be?”

The hand squeezed in support. “You will be, sweetheart. And when you are, I’m going to be right here.” Mr. Stark laughed that self-deprecating laugh that he always did. “And I’m not nearly the asshole I used to be so when you’re good, well, you know, I may even be helpful, but take your time. Honest. There’s no rush.” Another squeeze, and then Mr. Stark pulled his hand away.

A rush of urgency washed over the boy, and he knew that while Mr. Stark wasn’t lying to him, what he’d said wasn’t true.

He blew out another breath, this one of determination. Peter almost threw the blankets back—almost, but then thought better of it. Instead, he took a second to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. Only once he’d done that, and was sure that no more tears would escape, did he ever so slowly pull the blanket down from his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes still shone with wetness, but he made himself look over at the man at his side. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

He’d have thought Mr. Stark had just seen a pile of puppies for the soft look on his face. “Hey, Peter. Are you okay?”

Peter nodded a ‘yes.’

Mr. Stark nodded as well. “That’s good. Dr. Cho said your surgery went really well... and your blood work is almost back to normal. The guessing game starts now, though. Will your shoulder finish healing before your spider-powers come back completely or will your powers come back and then it heal your shoulder?” Mr. Stark chuckled. “Regardless, it’s almost over and I’m hoping that you never... ever have to go through that again.” He shuddered in remembrance. “It was awful to watch. I couldn’t imagine having to go through it.”

Peter shrugged with his one good arm. What could he say to that? “It’s okay.”

“No,” Mr. Stark replied. “It’s not. I didn’t even think that you coming back would have meant and we thrust you into the middle of a...” He stopped himself from speaking. Peter could see him visibly shift gears and then deflate. “No, we’re not talking about that yet. So much has happened, kiddo, and I don’t know where to start.”

Peter fiddled with the blanket underneath his hand nervously and voiced his biggest concern. “Can you tell me about May?”

Mr. Stark smiled down sadly at the boy. “I told you that we’d get you in front of a screen for a reunion once you were done with all the medical stuff, kiddo, and I wasn’t lying.” Mr. Stark gestured to the room at large. “I did manage to convince Dr. Cho that you would recover better in here, by the way, so you’ve managed to already hit the ‘temporary quarters’ portion of the event.”

Peter couldn’t help how unsure he sounded. “... and May?”

Mr. Stark looked at his watch. “New York is six hours behind us and it’s just after 1pm here, so that means that May is getting ready for an appointment just now...”

Mr. Stark knew Aunt May’s appointment schedule?

“... but I can give her the heads up that we’re waiting for her and maybe we can make some magic happen?” He smiled and gave Peter a wink. “But for now, why don’t we get you out of bed and get some real food in your stomach? I promised Dr. Cho that we’d stay on top of food and hydration if she took the IVs out, so...” Mr. Stark was trying to look nonchalant about the request, but he seemed concerned. “Does that work for you?”

Peter really wasn’t sure about the food idea, and he definitely wasn’t a fan of leaving his bed. It felt like sanctuary in what was about to be chaos and Peter couldn’t help but wish he could feel that way forever—but Mr. Stark seemed keen on seeing movement and Peter had already caused so much trouble—he nodded, “Okay. I can do that.”

Mr. Stark clapped his hands together and stood up. “Good man! Now—“ He started reaching toward the bed. “Let me help you out. You’ve been off your feet for far too long and, nutrients or not, I’m sure you’re gonna feel a little unsteady.” He pulled the blankets back and supported Peter as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Okay. How are you feeling right now?”

If Peter were being honest, he’d have told Mr. Stark that he was feeling a little vertigo—that the room was tilting a little funny and that he wasn’t sure he was up for the task. And it wasn’t like he thought Mr. Stark would keep things from him, but delays because Peter couldn’t pull it together meant potentially waiting to hear word about May and he couldn’t risk it. “I’m good, sir. Thanks.” He gave a half smile, committed to the ruse and wiggled toward the end of the bed.

“You’re killing me, kid! I thought we were friends! You know that ‘sir’ garbage is absolutely unacceptable.“

Peter grinned at the familiarity. “C’mon,” he lowered himself to stand up on the floor, “You know I was raised to respect my elders.”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Respect, my ass.” Mr. Stark cuffed Peter playfully across the back of his head. “The day I get any respect, is the day I sprout flowers out of my ass.”

A light tap on the door drew Peter’s attention as the words left Mr. Stark’s mouth, and then it opened enough for Ms. Potts head to peek into the room. “Now Tony, you know better than to use language like that in front of impressionable young children.” Ms. Potts playfully chastised him.

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, “Sure he’s impressionable like I’m a—“

“Yes, Tony. I know, you’re the victim here and Peter was being a big meanie.” She looked at Peter and smiled affectionately before staring down the man beside him. “You know I wasn’t joking about the swear jar. Behave, Mr. Stark, or else.” She shook her head in mock disapproval and looked back at Peter. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I heard you two talking and was wondering if you wanted me to order something from the kitchen for lunch.”

Peter smiled awkwardly at her consideration and turned to Mr. Stark. “I’m not sure...” he started, only for Mr. Stark to interrupt.

“Yeah, Pep, that would be great.” Mr. Stark scrutinized Peter for a second, and saw enough that he turned back to Mr. Potts. “I don’t think his sandwich made it past Clint, so we’re gonna have to improvise. Can you see if they have a vegetable soup or broth—maybe some bread or crackers or something, too? I think we’ll keep it light for now... just until his metabolism is up to snuff again.” The request was made as he turned to Peter again. “Does that sound good?”

His stomach churned, and while it may not have sounded good, it was probably going to be at least manageable so he nodded ‘yes.’ “Thank you, Ms. Potts. That’s sounds great.” He smiled feebly.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, and Peter wondered why both adults seemed so uncomfortable.

“Actually, Pete,” Mr. Stark rededicated himself to getting Peter up from where he’d propped himself against the bed. “It’s Mrs. Stark now.” He chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. “It’s all official and everything. No take-backs.”

Peter brought his attention over to Ms. Potts—um, Mrs. Stark, where she nervously wiggled the fingers of her left hand to show off a simple wedding band.

“Oh.” Peter frowned, then blushed, embarrassed again at his reaction. That had been unkind, and it wasn’t their fault. He tried to recover with what he hoped was his normal exuberance. “I mean—Oh! That’s awesome! Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. And Mrs. Stark.” He imagined the fanfare; imagined a large ballroom with dancing and food and laughter. He figured that May had gone. She and Ms. Potts—damn it! Mrs. Stark had been friends before—And his mentor? The man he thought of as his... crap. He stopped that train of thought and tried to shake off those five missed years. He huffed out a breath of regret. “I’m sorry I missed it...” He half smiled as his voice trailed off. That had made it no better. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.

Mr. Stark wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and started moving them slowly toward the door Mrs. Stark was still standing at. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Pete... at least for you. You’ve been in and out of it for the last week and we didn’t think it made sense to fill you in on all of the changes while you couldn’t really retain it. That’s on me, and I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Mrs. Stark moved out of their way and excused herself to get lunch for everyone, “That will give you boys a chance to talk,” she said quietly, and she left the suite for the kitchen.

Neither of them said anything as they shuffled toward the living room, which Peter appreciated. His emotions were all over the place in that moment, and physically, he knew he needed to sit down before he did something stupid like fall on his face.

“Peter? Are you doing alright?”

They were mere feet from the couch so Peter waited until he was sitting before he nodded. “Yeah,” he panted from the exertion. “I guess I’m just a little out of shape.” He joked. Peter took in the room around him with its glass and metal as he continued, “But sitting is good.” His head spun, but just a bit. “I guess I’ll take this over the being stuck in bed.”

Mr. Stark sat on the coffee table across from him and smiled. “That sounds like the Peter Parker I know.” He leaned forward and put a strong hand on his knee. “Now, how do you want to work this? Do you want to ask questions, should I start at the beginning, or will this devolve into one of your trademarked Peter conversations where any semblance of order is thrown out the window so we should just jump right into it?”

Peter shrugged and simply answered, “I really want to know about Aunt May.”

Mr. Stark exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Okay, so—May.” He pulled his hand back from the boy’s knee and clasped his hands together, almost like he was praying. “Alright. First and foremost, May is alive. She was not dusted so she’s still here. She knows you are back and has been updated regularly regarding your recovery... Oh! Thanks for the reminder! She says you’re grounded, by the way and,” Mr. Stark leaned forward and planted a big ol’ kiss on the top of Peter’s head. “That is from her, and she is so excited to hear from you now that you’re awake and coherent.”

Peter couldn’t hide his relief. “Okay. That’s so good. That means she’s okay, right? Is she just busy with work? I can’t even imagine how crazy the world must be...” Peter rambled before seeing that Tony wasn’t sharing in his exuberance. “Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark jumped into it with an explanation, “Before I start, kid, please know that most of the story is what I’ve been told. I was stuck floating on a spaceship for three weeks and only found out about this after we came back, so I may not be able to answer your questions... but if I can’t, we’ll find someone who can. Okay? Maybe Pepper? Heck. Maybe we should wait for Pepper? She shouldn’t be too much longer and then—“

“Is it that bad?” Peter asked.

Mr. Stark closed his eyes, like he was steeling himself up to do something awful, and that’s when Peter knew. He closed his own eyes for a second, tried to temper the emotions warring within him. He needed to be strong.

“After the first snap, she couldn’t find you—or Ned, or anyone, I guess, so she called Pepper who didn’t know what the hell was going on either. Steve... uh, Steve Rogers,” Mr. Stark added, in case Peter needed clarification, “He got in touch with Pepper and brought her over to Wakanda to rally the remaining troops, I guess, but—yeah. May was invited to come, too, but with all of the chaos after that snap, May decided to stay and keep working. The ratio of healthcare workers to the injured was horrifying, Pete, but your aunt was a freakin’ hero. She worked harder than anyone and saved so many lives over the course of the week after...”

“And?” Peter was growing impatient.

Mr. Stark hesitated.

“Mr. Stark, please.”

Mr. Stark leaned forward again, “She’d worked another overtime shift and was leaving the emergency department sometime around 2am. From what the police could gather, a drug addict was heading into the hospital hoping to get a fix when he saw your aunt in her uniform and approached her instead.” Mr. Stark tried to catch Peter’s eye, but Peter refused. “She tried to talk him into going in and getting help but this guy’s dealer and his back up had both been dusted and he was next level desperate and, um...” Mr. Stark’s mouth twisted as he tried to say the words. “She was stabbed in the side eight times, and would have bled out in minutes if not for the fact that she was only steps away from the ER doors. She was rushed into surgery, where the doctors were able to save her, but she ended up losing a kidney.”

Peter blanched. “She was stabbed?” He squeaked.

Mr. Stark held his hands again, “Yeah, bud.” He ran his thumbs gently over Peter’s knuckles. “Do you need to take a break? I’m not expecting that we’ll be able to talk to her for a bit, so there’s time.”

It was like the universe was listening as a disembodied voice interrupted them and announced, “Incoming video call from May Parker’s primary physician.”

Peter dropped his head into his hands waiting to see what cruel joke it had in store for him.

Mr. Stark didn’t hesitate to reply. “Answer it, FRIDAY.” He stood up and moved to shield Peter from the camera. “Dr. Bonwick, we didn’t have a call scheduled for today. Is everything alright?”

Peter couldn’t see him, but could hear the concern in his voice, “No, we didn’t, but Mrs. Parker has developed an infection at her access site and we’ve had to move her back into the med bay for further treatment. She had mentioned a video call to her nephew,” Mr. Stark shifted again, “and had seemed quite agitated about missing it, but with the fever, she’s struggling with pain levels and we’ve had to adjust med dosages temporarily.”

Mr. Stark placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “So no phone call today,” Mr. Stark stated.

“No, Sir. We had to bump her dialysis treatment up to very early this morning in order to accommodate the antibiotics schedule, so she’s currently sleeping. We anticipate that she’ll stay that way until we can get the right dosage working for her.”

Mr. Stark sighed. “Alright. Please let me know when she’s awake, Doc.” Mr. Stark’s hand moved and he ran his fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “She wasn’t the only one excited about that call. FRIDAY, disconnect.”

Neither of them moved, but Peter spoke first. “Tell me.”

Mr. Stark dropped to the seat beside him, but kept his fingers moving through Peter’s hair. “When they removed her kidney, it was obvious that it wasn’t healthy, so they did every test under the sun. It turns out that May has a genetic condition called autosomal dominant polycystic dominant kidney disease—and you’re lucky that I got it right that time, ‘cause I’m never saying it again.” Mr. Stark shifted to wrap his arm around Peter’s torso and hugged him to his side. “Some people can have it and never know, while others get sick, suffer chronic headaches, develop cysts, high blood pressure... there’s a list somewhere.” Mr. Stark stopped for a second, regrouped, and then continued. “Regardless, your Aunt May didn’t know she had it, didn’t even know it was something in her family, what with—“

“Them all being dead?” Peter finished his sentence for him.

Mr. Stark side hugged him again. “Yeah, that.”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know what to say—like, what kind of treatment is she receiving? Where is she? Is she gonna be okay? Can I go see her?”

“Breathe, Peter.” Mr. Stark reminded him. “Of course you can see her. We were waiting for you to be better before leaving, just in case things went all topsy-turvy, but you seem to be in the final-final stretch so Pep and I were thinking that we’d head back to New York tomorrow.”

Peter nodded eagerly, ignoring the lingering dizziness.

“We’ll head straight to the tower then, okay? May’s been there since she was released from the hospital five years ago. She’d wanted to keep working, but I figured you’d want me to keep an eye on her, especially after... so we compromised and she moved into Nat’s old quarters. When she started getting sicker, we moved her into the penthouse and brought in a team to treat her specifically. She’s in the med bay right—“

“Wait! Sicker?” Peter interrupted. “It’s just an infection, right? That’s what the doctor said!”

“Peter, your aunt’s condition worsened in the years after the stabbing,” Mr. Stark moved again to sit back on the coffee table—took his hands in his again. “Peter, I need you to understand. With only one compromised kidney, it wasn’t long before your aunt was on dialysis and the organ transplant list, but with half the population gone...”

“No.”

“Peter. Look at me.” The stern tone brought Peter’s eyes up. “We have done everything humanly possible to take care of your aunt, I promise you that—and now that everyone is back, there may be a chance...?”

The laugh that came out of Peter bordered on hysterical as the reality he’d reformed into came crashing down around him before he’d even taken a breath. “Stop. I can’t hear it.” He looked wildly around the room, “I just need to process this and then figure things out and then I’ll be good.” He stood up, forcing Mr. Stark to lean back on the table. “I need to talk to May.”

“Peter, she’s—“

“I know, okay!?. I know! I heard him!” He was trying not to panic but it vibrated through him like that earlier hum. He wished he could go back to however long ago and that peace and safety but he’d already wasted so much time recovering and five years in that damned stone! How could he--? May had needed him and he was gone and she was hurt and sick and he was gone and now he was here and he was still too far away! Why couldn’t he ever be in the right place at the right time? First Ben and now—Damn it! “I need to—I need to take a walk,” Peter stepped away from the couch, unsteady, but determined to pace. “I’m gonna take a walk and then I’m gonna sit down and make a list—“ Aunt May always said to make a list if he felt too overwhelmed, and if ever there was a time—Peter’s heart started to race as he gulped in air. “I’ll do that and then I’ll have a plan—and then when I talk to Aunt May, I won’t need to worry her—“ He swayed. “I can’t worry her, Mr. Stark.” Peter could feel his heart breaking. He crouched low and curled in on himself. “I can’t do this again.”

Peter felt him come up beside him and usher him back to the couch. “C’mon, sweetheart. I hear you, but we need to get you lying down before you pass out.” He pressed him down onto the couch and manoeuvred Peter back so he was stretched out. Some throw cushions somehow made it under his feet and Mr. Stark was again sitting on that stupid coffee table at Peter’s head. “You’re okay, kiddo. Just breathe for me.”

Peter turned away from his mentor and pressed his face into the back of the couch. “No.” He brought his arms up over his head, not even noticing that the pain in his shoulder was almost gone for the pain in his chest. “I can’t.”

Mr. Stark moved from the coffee table to the narrow strip of cushion behind him. “Yes, you can, Peter. You do it all the time.”

“But what if I don’t want to...” He sounded so pathetic even as he gasped.

“Well, if you don’t want to do it for you, then you do it for someone else—like your aunt... just until you get the strength back to do it for yourself.”

“But when she’s gone...”

“Then you do it for someone else, Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark shifted a bit, then came in for a hug from behind. “Because if you think, for one damned second, that you’re alone, you are wrong—do you understand me?”

A gut wrenching sob tore from Peter’s throat and he couldn’t—he just couldn’t. He shook his head to disagree, but the warm pressure of his mentor at his back, staying beside him as he struggled, told him that he was wrong. It was too much to bear and Mr. Stark was there and he needed something—someone to anchor him before he lost himself completely. He forced himself to move right then, because if he didn’t, he never would again. He sat up, awkward and gangly as he fought against cushions and emotional exhaustion. Mr. Stark was there, waiting to see what Peter needed, and so Peter threw himself into his arms and wept as Mr. Stark’s arms came around him. “I wanna go home, Mr. Stark. Please. I just wanna go home.”

Mr. Stark rocked him, “Alright, buddy. We’ll get you there,” he promised. “We’ll get you home to May.“

* * * * * *

Mrs. Stark found them that way only a short time later, and Peter was drained enough that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Tony?” She whispered as she gently placed a tray laden with food on the coffee table. “Has something happened?”

Mr. Stark continued rocking as he answered. “May’s doctor called. We had to postpone the video call and we talked about May—all of it.”

And that was enough for Mrs. Stark to understand. “Okay. So what’s the plan, honey?”

“When Peter’s ready for me to move, I’ll get in touch with T’Challa and Dr. Strange and arrange for a portal back home.” Peter snuggled deeper into Mr. Stark’s chest and the man pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair. “Not yet, baby, I know.” He shifted to accommodate Peter’s wiggles and continued. “Other than that—“ Mr. Stark shrugged. “I guess we figure out how to move forward from all of this?”

And Peter wondered to himself if he ever would.

#fanfiction #IronDad and SpiderSon #Avengers: Endgame #non-compliant #ao3fic #OBlossom #TW: discussion of illness #tw: panic attack #ao3 fanfic

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hey-hamlet · 5 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas: Grand Design

Also on AO3!

TL;DR:

If you asked the Heroics Commission why they created Izuku, you'd get an answer pretty close to the truth. The rising power of quirks was making them nervous, and All Might won't live forever.

What they aren't mentioning is the fact that they don't like All Might either.

He's kind and good and dedicated to people over the country. The man will break countless laws to save a single life and has defied the heroics commission on many occasions - something they can't punish him for in any way without being slammed by the media.

So, they come up with a plan.

if you asked the heroics commission why they created Izuku, you'd get an answer pretty close to the truth

the rising power of quirks was making them nervous, and all might won't live forever. 'there might be another quirk as powerful as all mights just around the corner for the heroes' you might say. 'we're just taking away the 'might'' they'd reply

but what they aren't mentioning is the fact that they don't like All Might either.

he's kind and good and dedicated to people over country. the man will break countless laws to save a single life and has defied the heroics commission on many occasions - something they can't punish him for in any way without being slammed by the media

so, they come up with a plan

"if we can't control all might, we make the next all might ourselves"

sure, the doctor who does the work for them is a little shady, but it can't be helped. quirk genetic experiments were recently made illegal in a case spearheaded by nezu himself. nezu doesn't exactly agree with a total ban and is encouraging regulation in place of a blanket stop, but its been years and the laws are going nowhere fast

maybe the man has some shady connections to some shady people all too eager to replace all might? oh well, it can be managed

a pregnant woman called Inko Midoriya shows up at a hospital, dead on arrival, with the baby inside her still clinging to life?

well.

thats just convenient, isn't it?

they extract the child, pronounce the mother dead and whisk the child away into 'foster care', or the arms of the good doctor

when he's revealed to be quirkless? at first the commission is dubious but the doctor assures them this is perfect. he doesn't have to base the quirk off anything, it can be built from the ground up, as exactly the quirk the commission wants

izuku is born 3 months premature to a dead mother and one month later has a strong enough combination of quirks to take down all might when he grows up.

there is a bit of a catch, though. due to the whole 3 months early and dead mother thing, his constitution isn't the greatest, leaving him pretty sickly. the doctor assures him he'll be much better when he grows up (he’s lying). still - it’s a long while until their creation will be an adult. they could let him grow up normally in a nice house, only to pounce on him when he's grown a little stronger

but a chance of letting their perfect child slip away? nope. they resolve to train him as soon as he can crawl.

A few variations of this AU bc I had loads of quirk ideas before I settled on one - Knock Off For All: Izuku has a quirk as similar to OFA as was possible to create without being able to stockpile, complete with the achy breaky bones (no extra quirks) - Power Set: Izuku has a set of the most useful quirks the doctor could think of, ala USJ nomu (Shock nullification, Regeneration, Super Strength, etc) - Midorigiri: Izuku has a powerful combination quirk like a certain cloud mist dude. Probably either a shock absorption + redirection quirk / all 4 elemental types / guardian angel: wings, flight, hard light construct, healing - All for Naught: Izuku has a knock off of All for One that lets him perma copy 5 quirks at a time

So, Guardian Angel is the quirk I’m going with, mostly for the Hawks parallels. They end up basically being raised with each other, hawks jokingly calling Izuku his little brother. He almost cries when Izuku asks what that is.

Izuku’s quirk allows him to fly with a set of wings (he has hollow bones to facilitate this), can create hard light constructs; the more complicated the shape the harder it is and was originally classified as a forcefield quirk before Izuku got creative with it, and gives him the ability to heal.

All abilities excluding flight are based on the amount of ambient light. The brighter it is, the stronger his constructs and the better he can heal. His blood glows. Make of that what you will.

The problem being that while his quirk/s are strong, Izuku himself is very weak. He has chronic anaemia, difficulty putting on weight, a heart murmur, weak lungs, etc. the HA don’t care at all and make him train until he can’t walk.

From birth till 7 Izuku has no contact with people outside the facility, whereupon he is promptly dumped into a public school for 5 days a week. The education he gets there isn’t important, he’ll learn what he needs at the facility. What they do deem as important is A, creating a paper trail for the kid and B, socializing him somewhat.

People flock to him for his quirk, cementing what they always told him. “All of your worth is in your quirk. You have an obligation to save others.”

Plus, they’ve told him he wasn’t born like everyone else, he was created. Different, artificial, inhuman, those where all words used to describe him at the facility. He finds it difficult to make friends.

He forms a strange almost friendship with Bakugo as the only other kid with a super powerful quirk in the school, even if it’s more of a support quirk than anything else. Izuku silently heals Bakugo when he gets into fights, Bakugo snarls at anyone who makes Izuku too uncomfortable. It’s odd, but it works.

Izuku’s personality is similar to canon in the fact he's the same person but it’s a little jumbled.

He’s even less trusting of adults than canon which is saying something, but he doesn’t have canons blatant disregard for authority. If he breaks a rule he makes sure he doesn’t get caught because the punishments he’s had before left scars.

His anger runs a little closer to the surface but he feels like a bad person for feeling any emotion that isn’t positive so he crushes it down under forced optimism. Izuku shows his anger rarely and when he does, it’s quiet and vicious.

If an authority figure tells him to do something, he does it. It takes a while for Aizawa to break the kid’s conditioned need to respond automatically to any request from a ‘Handler’. Aizawa is very afraid of where it came from, but Nezu can’t find anything about this kid other than the record of his birth and his school enrolments.

Izuku thinks he’s less valuable than others which is pretty canon, at least at the start, but here it’s because he’s ‘not as good/natural/ something’ as a ‘normal’ human. Most of the UA teacher see it, but they have no idea why he thinks he’s lesser so their mixed attempts at questioning/comfort fall pretty flat. Izuku is convinced they would abandon him if they knew.

So, Izuku has a complicated relationship with the concept of All Might.

To start off with, even with everything that happened, Izuku adores heroes right down to his very core. Hawks counts the HA lucky that they didn’t accidentally turn Izuku into a villain. Izuku’s favourite hero is All Might, but -

For a start, he was told he was made to be better than All Might. The part of the HA that created him isn’t fond of the no. 1 as someone they can’t at all control, Izuku has basically been taught that All Might is lying to the world with the way he presents himself and that he’s secretly a terrible person and would hate him for both being artificial and for being made to be better than him

Ergo, Izuku is shit scared of him.

Izuku wants to go to UA because Katsuki is going to UA and Katsuki is the only person other than Hawks he’s ever had a somewhat close relationship with. The HA thinks: eh, fuck it, it’ll be a nice fuck you to All Might anyway.

Then All Might is announced as a teacher after Izuku has been accepted and all hell breaks loose.

A brief set of things that happen:

Dadmight and Dadzawa to the extreme, all of 1A basically adopts Izuku instantly (after they get over the fear of his crazy quirk lmao). All Might and Eraserhead are Izuku’s favourite heroes, other than Hawks, so he's both terrified and in awe of them at all times. He finds himself both loving the familial affection he was denied as a child and being terrified they’d think he was a monster when they learnt he was made to overtake All Might, and isn’t a ‘real person’.

Izuku gets OFA, eventually. It ends up improving his physical health which is neat, along with its extra quirks and strengthening of his own.

Todoroki hates Izuku a little from the beginning, although he’d never admit it. Izuku’s quirk is incredibly powerful and he didn’t have to undergo Todoroki’s childhood torment (Which is Incorrect, but he doesn’t exactly know that, does he) When Todoroki finds out (sports festival, Izuku has a pretty emotional response to his little angst time and lets a few things slip) he becomes fiercely protective of him.

Izuku and Bakugo develop an actual friendship and it’s an adventure

Izuku gets kidnapped along with Bakugo at the training camp, during which the doctor, AFO or Shigiraki reveal he was created to beat All Might, just like the Nomu. Izuku wants to run away out of fear/shame, but Bakugo drags him along with the rescue attempt. Izuku, too scared to go back to the HA or UA, wants nothing more than to vanish off the face of the earth. When Aizawa and All Might visit him and Bakugo at the hospital, Izuku breaks down crying and cowers in fear, convinced his teachers are either going to hurt or kill him. Everyone involved is horrified. They try to calm him down but just seeing them is scaring the shit out of Izuku so they end up getting chased out by Bakugo who clumsily comforts him.

#grand design au #bnha au #bnha #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #All Might #yagi toshinori #izuku #midoriya #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #todoroki shouto

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leviathanswingman · 4 years

Text

killing me softly, chapter 6: bedside

Everything was painted black. In this darkness, Lucifer found himself in total solitude. Ever since his fall he'd found comfort in the gloomy shadows that were roaming around all over devildom.

This darkness however was different. More threatening. Less comforting.

As he looked around, he could make out a blurry shape in the distance. It was looming in the corner of his eye, simply observing.

„Show yourself!“ Lucifer wanted to growl, yet his voice didn't want to obey him; he couldn't talk.

Confused, he raised his hand up to his throat and it came back drenched in blood. Lucifer looked down and noted that he was naked, bathed in blood and sitting inside of a gigantic white rose.

The blurry figure finally approached and reached for Lucifer, but before he could see for himself who or what had been watching him so closely, the rose's petals snapped shut, encasing Lucifer in an even darker shade of nothingness.

Lucifer awoke with a startle, shooting up from his bed. As he tried to regulate his breathing, he could feel his heart beating up to his throat.

The fact that this was now the second time in the course of a week he had woken up in a strange bed with no recollection of how he'd gotten there bothered Lucifer tremendously. This should better not turn into a habit.

As he slowly got back to his senses, he realized that he had subconsciously grabbed onto the thing closest to him, which turned out to be Lord Diavolo's arm. For a moment he was caught off guard and just stared at him.

He opened his mouth and for the first time in a while, he found himself at a loss for words. Memories of last night returned to him in flashes. The way Diavolo had been pushing and pushing, desperate to find out the reason for Lucifer's strange behaviour, ever so caring and strong. He had been so close.

And now he knew everything.

A mix of different and difficult emotions was swirling around Lucifer's head. He felt embarrassment over having developed an illness as ridiculous as hanahaki to begin with, felt regret for having caused such a commotion, felt anger, because out of all demons, why him?! Most of all Lucifer was downright ashamed that he had allowed himself to risk his relationship with Diavolo just because he had fallen in love.

The thought was still foreign to him, the thought of him being in love with Diavolo. However, only fools lived in denial, so Lucifer forced himself to come to terms with the fact.

Diavolo was waiting patiently at his bedside, sitting on a chair he'd probably brought over just so he could look after Lucifer. He was waiting at a bedside Lucifer did not recognize. There was a strange expression on his face ad for a moment he seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at Lucifer's hand which was still gripping onto his arm ever so tightly.

As realization hit him Lucifer quickly pulled back his hand, letting it rest on top of the blanket instead.

Diavolo mustered him with an intense look on his face and breathed out through his nose. „Were you ever going to tell me?“

Lucifer tried to avoid Diavolo's gaze, but ended up looking at his handsome face anyways. In this regard, he'd recently figured out, he was terribly weak.

He had caused Diavolo enough trouble as it was. Maybe it was time to finally fess up to his sins.

„No,“ he answered honestly and watched closely as Diavolo furrowed his brows, an unusual scowl appearing on his face. “As you've noticed, I've actually tried hiding it from you.”

“I knew something was going on. Whenever I got close to you, you ended up running away. “ All of a sudden, Diavolo stood up and moved over to Lucifer's side, placing each of his hands next to Lucifer's head, against the headboard, one knee propped up on the bed for support. He grabbed Lucifer's face with one hand and stared at him for a moment, golden eyes mustering crimson ones.

“I know you like to keep a professional distance and I've come to terms with that, but to run away from me because you're stubborn to admit that you need to take days off. You have hanahaki for fucks sake! Lucifer, you need to take time off so you can confess or get the surgery!” Diavolo shouted, never letting go.

Lucifer stared at him incredulously for several seconds. So Diavolo hadn't figured out that he was the sole reason for Lucifer's hanahaki? Of course, he was aware of the fact that the demon prince was incredibly powerful, but Lucifer often forgot how dense Diavolo could be at times as well. Although whether it was a blessing or a curse, Lucifer couldn't quite tell.

Maintaining eye contact with Diavolo, he straightened his posture. “This is exactly why I didn't want you to know. I didn't deceive you out of a lack of trust, I mislead you because I won't let anyone force me to confess,” Lucifer finally said.

“What do you mean you won't confess? Did you already get rejected by your love? Explain yourself.”

A small smile appeared on Lucifer's face before he kept going. So Diavolo really didn't know anything. This gave him the perfect opportunity to construct his final lie.

Diavolo ran his finger along Lucifer's sharp jaw and then kept his hand there, cradling his face.

“Why won't you confess? I can't think of anyone who wouldn't love you,” he murmured and Lucifer coughed not so discreetly.

“I will get the surgery tomorrow, Lord Diavolo. Everything's scheduled already. There's no need for you to worry about me,” he lied. “I'm taking care of it.”

Still, there was a worried expression on Diavolo's face. Thoughtlessly, he rubbed Lucifer's cheek with his thumb.

Lucifer didn't even try to hide the petal he had coughed up. There was no reason to hide it anymore, everything was out in the open already. The petal floated through the air and Diavolo caught it before it could hit the ground.

“A white rose petal,” Diavolo said. “The same kind that Barbatos picked off my uniform a few days ago.”

“As expected, you're quite perceptive. I've had hanahaki for two weeks now, so sooner or later you would've found out either way.”

Diavolo hesitated for a moment but then spoke up again. “You wouldn't need to get the surgery if you just confessed. Are you really willing to give up on the ability to love forever?” he then asked, his voice taking on an almost desperate tone.

No, I'm not, Lucifer thought. “Love is only a distraction,” he said instead. “Getting rid of the ability to love will only benefit me in the long run.”

“How can you say that?! Lucifer!” Diavolo suddenly exclaimed. “Who is it? Why are you so hell-bent on keeping your crush a secret?”

There it was; that word. Crush. Lucifer was not the kind of man to develop simple crushes. Lucifer worked in extremes only. He either loved or hated, there were no in-betweens for him.

With a swift motion he grabbed Diavolo's hand which had been caressing his skin relentlessly and oh so painfully. For a moment he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation before he put Diavolo's hand down, placing it on top of his blanket.

“There's no need for you to worry about that, Lord Diavolo. This won't distract me from my assignments.”

Before Diavolo could open his mouth to answer, there was a sharp knock on the door.

“Can we come in?”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

*nsfw chapter

taglist: @el-does-photography

#my writing #fanfiction #obey me!#shall we date? obey me #dialuci #diavolo x lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me! lucifer #angst #hanahaki au #slow burn

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