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ninja-go-to-therapy · 1 year

Text

Dismantled Chapter 4

AO3

yippee the Slipping stage begins :D

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of malnourishment, dehydration, and suicidal ideation. Self-deprecation, infantilization, and mentions of violence/gore/injuries. Overall creepy whumper.

2352 words

It had been a few days. He didn’t know how many, exactly, but — but it must have been somewhere between five or six. With no window, ergo, no natural light, he had nothing to go off of other than the meals he was provided with.

Despite the somehow persistent emptiness of his stomach, he dreaded meal-time. Exposure did not make it easier to be spoon-fed like a… like an old person on their deathbed, he pointedly decided.

He sighed, shifting slightly in his ever-present prison. His captor had told him this… morning? That if he “continued to be good”, he would be allowed release from it when he returned. Donnie had just stared numbly at the ceiling, wondering if he did so long enough if he would wake up from this living nightmare. He hadn’t answered. It hadn’t been a question.

His body ached from its forced inactivity.

The last thing he could remember before all of this was working at Todd’s place, surrounded by literal puppies and rainbows… and the most delicious ice-cold lemonade he’d ever tasted. What had happened in those missing hours that had landed him here?

God, he missed that lemonade.

Every so often, in between the bouts of silence that made him want to scream (he’d tried, once or twice. It had only resulted in his throat becoming sore), he would hear something, little tricks being played on his ears — likely the house settling, or worse, his mind simply beginning to break — and he’d brace himself for his immediate rescue.

The rescue still hadn’t come. Were they even coming at all? For all he knew, his death could have been faked, or his family’s memory of him could have been magically erased or some shit, or… with mystic mumbo jumbo, the possibilities were literally limitless. If he hadn’t wasted all his tears crying for his father in what he told himself was the dead of night, maybe that fact would have elicited more.

He needed to face the facts. He needed to get through the front door by himself.

If the yokai kept his word (which Donnie found highly unlikely, but it was worth a shot), he’d be totally home free. Then he could lug ass home, probably get VIP treatment for a couple weeks if he milked it, and potentially develop some form of bio-tech he could implant in his brain to ensure he was never violated like this again.

All in a day’s work.

That same light knock that could have been pounds directly against his skull rang on his door. The yokai entered (ever the respect for an answer, this guy), no food to accompany him this time. Donnie was almost a little grateful. If he was spoon-fed one more time, he was going to smite a bitch.

“Alright, let’s get you up, sunshine.” the yokai announced, and holy shit he’d actually be able to move again. “You’re going to be good, right? You know I don’t enjoy punishing you.”

Donnie was pretty sure this guy lived to quote unquote punish him. But, well, bringing that up would be quote unquote backtalk, now wouldn’t it?

“Sure,” he said through gritted teeth.

Miraculously, that seemed to be enough for the guy. Ha, any actual parent would see through that bullshit in half a second flat.

Pops could always tell when he was just saying shit. When they… actually talked, that is. And when the shit he was spouting involved Splinter himself.

Okay, it wasn’t like his father was the best parent in the universe, but he was trying. Plus it didn’t hurt that he, you know, didn’t kidnap his children. For fuck’s sake, God must have had a vendetta against this fucking family.

The yokai, far from the first time, was invading his personal bubble, hands working at the mess of blankets that had ensnared Donnie since he’d first woken up here. He held his breath, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He could barely stand his own brothers to be too close to him if he wasn’t vibing with it. But he could stand this if he meant he could move again. He just needed to hurry the fuck up.

And then, finally, the bundle came away, and there was a blissful absolutely nothing pressing down on every inch of his body. He wiggled his fingers, giddy to feel them moving through pure, open air instead of that hellish mound of fluff.

The door to his room was open.

He sprang up from the bed, which turned out not to be his wisest decision of the day. His vision blurred, and his legs, out of use, buckled, and he crashed to the carpeted floor. His head spun viciously. How malnourished, how dehydrated was he? That he just lay sprawled across the ground, unable to pick himself up?

Frustration clawed at him, and if he were more in tune with his emotions, he may have started crying. He wasn’t going to, though. Not in front of him. Despite how helpless he felt right now. Despite the fact that he was just a kid, despite him just wanting to go home, to be wrapped in the arms of his family, of his actual father.

Why wouldn’t his legs work? Why couldn’t he stand? If he couldn’t do so much as get through a door by himself, maybe this dude had a point in treating him like an incapable little—

There were hands lifting him, righting his body. He just let it happen, numb to the sensation. Breathing didn’t taste right. Fuck.

His legs were made of pins and needles, and he could do nothing but sit there, waiting for the pain to die. He kind of wanted to die. It should have occurred to him that of course he couldn’t use his legs after such a period of complete and utter inactivity. He should have waited. He should have used his only actual attribute, his goddam brain, and thought about this before he ruined his only chance of escape and—

“—ple? Are you alright?”

He hadn’t even heard the man over the ringing in his ears.

“What?” He asked numbly, unseeing eyes burning with his sudden inability to blink.

“Are you hurt?”

He was dying. “I’m fine.”

His captor sighed. “You nearly hurt yourself. You can’t go over-exerting yourself like that. It’s my fault, really. I should have helped you up.”

They sat in silence for a long time. It was Donnie’s turn to say something, but there was a lump in his throat, blocking the path from his vocal chords to his mouth. He couldn’t find it in him to say another word to this man, whether he wanted to or not. What would be the point? He would just belittle him, maybe give a vague, half-baked answer that told him nothing. Donnie couldn’t find a single ounce of energy in his body that wanted to devote itself to speaking, and so he stayed silent, unsure what exactly his watery eyes were a result of.

In a ridiculous and illogical moment of doubt, he wondered if Splinter had even yet noticed he was gone.

Of course he had. Of course he knew one of his sons was missing. Of course he was putting everything he had into finding him. Of course he was.

Donnie wasn’t thinking about the nine months Splinter had once gone without speaking to him at all. Fuck, that was enough time to have a kid, nevermind bond with the one you were already neglecting.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Not thinking about it.

Pops was so much better than he used to be. He talked to them, he was around, he — he didn’t just — stop thinking about it.

He needed something to distract himself before he spiraled. Ordinarily this was when he would throw himself into his work, or, if he was feeling up to it, initiate some “bro-time” with one of his brothers.

In this case, neither were an option.

“Do you know why I’m taking care of you?” His captor asked unpromptedly, and were Donnie in the talking mood, he would have taken his pick between a plethora of rude, sarcastic responses. It was probably a good thing he wasn’t in the talking mood.

Taking his silence as a prompt to continue, the man settled on the floor next to him, like… like… ugh.

Donnie shifted subtly away from him, allowing himself to lean against the wooden frame of the bed. It pushed against his shell, and he couldn’t help the instinctive hiss that escaped his throat. He’d nearly forgotten about the nearly-healed wounds, gouged deep into his shell by the Shredder.

The reaction didn’t go unnoticed.

“How did you get those wounds?” he asked, “a fight? Something your brothers walked away from without so much as a scratch?”

His brothers had gotten scratches. Shredder had been brutal, a vessel of absolute violence. If Leo hadn’t somehow managed that agreement with Big Mama… he didn’t even want to think about it.

He hadn’t been the only one physically affected by the fight. They just… hadn’t gotten the sort of injuries Donnie had. But it wasn’t because he was weaker than they were. They all had different strengths. He knew that.

“I want you to be safe. Your soft shell makes you fundamentally more of a target than your brothers. They have built in armor on their bodies. And I know, I know, you’re a smart boy — brilliant, really — you built yourself a battle shell,” he said it with an awe that Donnie suspected was somewhat mocking. “But clearly… it doesn’t always work so well. It’s too easy for bad guys to just… slice. Right. Through. Your. Flesh,” he emphasized, demonstratively dragging his claws down Donnie’s arm.

He grit his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. He didn’t like being touched. He didn’t want to be touched. He wanted to go home and shower in scalding hot water and scrub until every last skin cell on his body hadn’t been present for this nightmare of an experience.

Why me? He wanted to ask, the words never managing to make it past the growing lump lodged in his esophagus.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, little one.”

He wanted to fucking scream. He wasn’t little. He wasn’t little.

He wouldn’t understand, not fucking ever. He didn’t want to. What did it take to make someone think it was okay to just — just illegally adopt a guy? Weren’t most cases of that sort involving women and infants, anyway? It didn’t make sense.

Up until this, the fight with Shredder may well have been the most scared he’d ever felt. It had all seemed hopeless enough when it was only Draxum wielding the armor, practically untouchable and nearly crushing Donnie — and his brothers — on more than one occasion.

And then they’d freed the literal monster within.

The worst fight of their collective lives, undoubtedly. But they’d made it out, gone home, and holed up in front of the TV for the next five to seven business days. Despite his own injuries, Papa had taken care of them for those few days, to the best of his ability at least, and had apologized again and again for everything under the sun.

Splinter was a good dad. This asshole couldn’t take that away, no matter what he did.

Now, if he’d gotten hold of Donnie a mere few months ago… when he had been in a slightly more vulnerable place… when Splinter still didn’t talk to him. When he had to scream for any bit of attention from his father. When he was so, so tired of being shut down by his papa all the time. Maybe, had he been snatched up then, Donnie could have potentially fallen under this guy’s spell. But that was in the past. It’s not like it affected him anymore. It’s not like he mourned that his first real positive parental reinforcement had come from someone that was just using him.

It’s not like he mourned how the first time in his life that Splinter had told him he was proud of him had been so recently. How he had never gotten the relationship he so desperately craved with his dad, even now.

Nearly 15 years old and most of them spent longing for a father that knew his goddamn name.

In a moment of terrifying resentment, Donnie almost wanted to acknowledge this man as his father solely to spite his real one.

The thought immediately made him ill. Why had he thought that? Why had he even considered that? What was wrong with him?

And — and why was this guy still here? Any normal parent would just leave a kid alone when they were clearly exhibiting — whatever it was that was making Donnie want to rip his nonexistent hair out.

He wanted to be alone. He wanted to go home. He wanted a dad that gave him the time of fucking day. He wanted to be alone. But the thought of this room being empty, dead silent save for his own inconsistent, shaky breathing, only served to bring further dread to him.

He dug his fingers into the carpet, desperately trying to ground himself.

He was spiraling. He knew he was spiraling. But god fucking dammit, he couldn’t find a way to stop.

His brothers were coming for him. They were. Eventually. He would psychoanaluze his daddy issues when he was back home and not at the mercy of some guy who treated him like a mutt he’d saved from off the street. Who seemed to genuinely want him. Safe.

Jesus Christ, this was why he was the science guy. Emotions were stupid and conflicting and complicated, and they were going to fuck—screw—him over if he focused on them.

He needed to bury his — eugh — emotions deep down, somewhere he could dig them up later, when he could afford to. He wished he could bury himself down in his shell, like his brothers could. But he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t quite like them.

He dug his fingers further into the carpet.

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the-void-writes · 1 year

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“What is your love language, then? I want to learn it.”

- Writing prompts ✨

I’m sorry to have kept this in my inbox for so long lol. Finally decided to just make it a cute interaction between Will and Dante, at the start of their budding relationship 💕 It’s cheesy and not at all plot-related, but I feel like that’s just my style now.

For All Eternity - Love Language

Will had every right to be depressed. As far as he was concerned, the last ten years of his life had been lived by someone else. No one truly respected Ash, not even the friends he had made on his trade routes— He was more of a joke, a cautionary tale for patients who didn’t want their treatments. They didn’t want to end up like clumsy, forgetful Ashleigh.

Now, Ash was gone, and Will had returned. He meant something now, both to Bluebrook and to Paradise. The kingdom owed him its life for everything he gave to fight Vesely. For once, he could be certain that his new friends loved him.

But that love couldn’t ease the overwhelming ache in his heart. His family was dead— murdered right in front of him— and he hadn’t been able to mourn them. Ten years-worth of delayed grief weighed on his mind like thick smoke, made worse by the growing infection that had been dormant all that time. Will didn’t want to move, or speak, or even think, with how badly his muscles and organs burned with pain.

Still, he made himself walk around. The people of Eternity had kindly offered to house him while he recovered. It was like staying in a hotel, one that liked to throw parties on a regular basis. Will enjoyed it more than he thought he would. The androids were fun to talk with, as were most of the other patrons, and the staff seemed to like him a lot.

And then, there was Dante. True to his word, he hadn’t left at the first sign of difficulty. He fought by Will’s side, he brought his memories back to him, and dare he say it, he seemed to enjoy Will’s company. It must have been their shared heartbreak that made Dante so attached to him, or perhaps Will was a better flirt than he gave himself credit for. Whatever the reason, Will was sure of one thing: Dante was the one thing keeping him sane.

Will sat in one of the dining booths, watching the androids dance with each other on stage. He found himself fixated on Roxie and Proteus, how she moved with him in perfect synchronicity, how passionately he held her hips as she brushed her nails along his neck. It was strangely hypnotic, and slightly amusing to see Proteus’ lovestruck grin.

The booth’s seat shifted a bit. Will turned and found himself staring into those beautiful golden eyes.

“Hey there, stranger,” Dante said. “I hope you don’t mind the company.”

“Not at all,” Will said. “How are you holding up?”

Dante smiled. “Don’t worry about me, you sweetheart. You’re the one who held the world on your shoulders.”

“It was just rubble.”

“Five-thousand pounds of rubble. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Will chuckled. “If you say so.”

He took a quiet sip from his glass, feeling Dante’s eyes on him. His stare felt so different compared to when they had met— That focused, heavy stare, like he was studying Will. Now, his eyes were full of warmth and fondness.

“So, how’s your stay going?” Dante asked.

“It’s nice, thank you. Just enjoying your show.” He paused for a moment. “You built your androids so well.”

“Aww, you’re making me blush.”

“Sorry.”

Dante chuckled. “Listen, I don’t mean this as a bad thing, but you’re a lot softer than before.”

Will sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna find that naive little hermit you almost slept with anymore.”

He shook his head and took another drink. Before he could apologize for speaking like that, Dante patted his hand.

“Well, I’m happy to get to know you again, if you’ll let me.” He smiled and slid closer. “Tell me anything, like your favorite color or food.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m rather boring in that department.”

“I don’t believe it for one second. Lay it on me.” Dante poked his hand. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Will’s lips twitched. “Okay, fine. I like blues and greens, and I’m a sucker for anything with strawberries in it. Have I bored you yet?”

Dante grinned. “Don’t you give yourself any credit? You’re adorable.”

He laughed as Will hid his face.

“What about you?” Will said, hoping to throw the attention off of himself.

“Well, just from looking at the place, you can probably tell what my tastes are.” He gestured at all the purple lights, the black-and-gold trims, and plates full of rich cheeses and meats. “Gazali’s not the only one who can live in luxury.”

“No kidding.” Will smiled softly. “But it does look nice.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“Do you— Do you have to call me that?”

Dante squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, it’s not really a bother.” Will twisted the rings on his fingers. “I’m just not used to pet names.”

“Ah, I see.” He leaned forward on his elbow. “Tell me your love language, then. I want to learn it.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“I told you I like you, didn’t I? That ain’t gonna change anytime soon. If you let me know what you like, I swear I can treat you right.”

He shook his head with a smile. “I can’t quite figure you out.”

“That’s the beauty, ain’t it? I’m a surprise you can enjoy every day.”

Will snickered. “If you really want to know, I like spending time with people, even if it’s spent on something small. We could literally just lay in a field, and I’d be happy.”

Part of him expected Dante to start teasing him for his simplicity, but he found the young man smiling instead, like he had just been told the greatest news of his life.

“That’s sweet, baby. Maybe I can take you out to the wildflower fields sometime, watch the stars and shit like that.”

“Something tells me that’s not your tempo.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking for peace and quiet since I got here. This club keeps me busy, but trust me, I’d much rather lay in twigs and shit with you.”

Will found himself smiling, genuinely touched by Dante’s sincerity. He pushed his drink away and propped his head against his arm. His elbow brushed against Dante’s, and neither of them moved away.

“What about you, then? What do you like?”

Dante tapped his chin. “Touch, I think.” He started to stutter. “I mean— Not in a suggestive way—”

“No, I got you. Just a nice, comforting touch.”

He smiled. “Yeah, like that. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So… Any specific kind of touch? Like hand-holding, or…”

“Oh, all of it. Brushing someone’s hair, tracing their hand—”

He demonstrated his methods to Will, stroking the thick blonde strands of his hair and dragging a gentle finger from his palm up to his wrist. Will couldn’t hide how nice it felt as he nearly fell asleep against him. Dante whispered into his ear.

“Do you know what I like most?”

“What’s that?”

“Making people smile. There’s nothing prettier than getting a smile or laugh out of a shy little thing… like you.”

His hand darted to Will’s side, instantly waking him back up as he grabbed his wrists.

“Dante!”

“I know, I’m a menace.” He chuckled. “You proved me right, though. Look at you.”

Part of Will wanted to be mad, but when he saw Dante’s smile, he felt at peace for the first time in a long while. This was a man who truly wanted to spend time with him, to make him happy and comfortable for the rest of his eternity in Paradise. There was a sense of security in his presence that Will hadn’t felt since Dan was around.

“Lucky for you,” Will said, “it takes more than that to annoy me.”

Dante grinned. “Oh, I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve.”

He shifted as Will took his hand, almost like he was melting against the seat. Will couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

#writeblr #ask games #wip: for all eternity

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sins-of-the-sea · 1 year

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Atz’lut v’ Ta’avah (8/?)

After Phoebus has been sulking alone in his cabin for a long time, the Captain is finally able to be allowed to speak with him. Phoebus now shares his story on how he and Guy are struggling with each other as brothers, starting off from the memories of his mother.

“Retroactively speaking, I knew what Maman caught. It was a great disease even today I am fearful of naming. I just knew it was reaching its tertiary stage by the time Guy and I were preparing for our bar mitzvah.”

“Say no more. I have a feeling I know what it is if you are fearful of speaking its name even today. I am guessing that if you did get doctors to assist her, they would use holy wood or mercury inunctions?”

“Yes, that is precisely it. Neither Guy nor I liked the treatments. Day by day, it was turning Maman into something she was not. And I feared it would become worse the more we did nothing about it.”

“I am deeply sorry those were the options of the time. I pray those doctors didn’t bleed you out of money you barely had any at the time for?”

Phoebus sniffs. “It was either those or food to feed us. Nothing Guy and I were doing was enough for both. Not to mention neither of us could hold a job longer than maybe a week. Either because of Guy’s temper or me just… not being a good worker at all. I always felt tired. I always just. Wanted to stay home and rest.”

“You were very young. You two were expected to grow up so fast, as well as to care for a little sister in addition to all this. At such a young age, you should be learning at your own pace while also enjoying your youth as children. I am so deeply sorry. So you tried to become a doctor? How old were you when you were admitted into the université? I’m assuming the Université d’Avignon?”

“Correct. It’s about a ten-minute walking distance from the Jewish Commune. I was fourteen. My rabbi made recommendations for me. He was the one who convinced me to study while Guy would work and pay for food and the doctors.”

“But that divided up your ability to provide at all. Students don’t get paid to study.”

“No. And it would take four years until I would officially become a doctor. Until then, I mostly focused on other general education. I was becoming extremely frustrated. I once tried to convince the professors to use my mother as a case study, but I was not taking those courses yet. Not to mention our status, our religion, our reputation in the community at all…”

Josep moves a little closer to offer a hand to Phoebus. This time, Phi took the courage to take it… and soon, he was embraced closely by his Captain.

Phoebus sniffs again, burying his face into Josep’s chest. “It was too much, Captain! Too much! Rabbi Astruc could only do so much for us. No one was willing to be kind. There were days when we couldn’t eat at all or afford the doctors. Not even in food or some other provision. We had nothing. And I just wanted to run away from it all and lie down forever.”

“I hear you, Phoebus. I understand you.”

“I was failing my classes, Josep. By the time I was getting closer to the courses that would introduce me to medicine, there were days I couldn’t just get up from the bed at all. I wasn’t being lazy, I assure you. I just. Couldn’t. At all. Guy can tell you… I would just lay there and cry nonstop. And by the time I would return to class, I would not be able to focus.”

“So naturally you would have to drop out. Something that would be shameful, I’m certain. Where did Guy come in? You said-”

“Now that I think about it… it wouldn’t have mattered in the end. When I told Guy that I was going to fail a critical class in the Université, for some reason, I was able to stay in despite not participating in over a month. And I would find out-”

“Oh!! Oh, no, oh no... He did the ‘twin switch’, didn’t he?”

“He did! And the professor caught him! The professor knew about the birthmark on my arm, and he knew I had a brother! All he had to do was ask Guy to roll up his sleeves like I usually do! And the absence of that birthmark on Guy’s elbow was all it took for the deception to be spotted!

“He did this on his own! Guy! Not me! I had no part in this! And yet the professor thought this was some sort of plan from the beginning! That I was cheating and dishonest and-”

“Phi.” Josep takes the type to raise his hands as a gesture for the younger man to slow down--not only because he is unable to keep up with what he was saying, but so he wouldn’t have to upset himself reliving a terrible memory. But even with Phoebus’ anguish, Josep can’t help but see something else beyond what he is being told. “It’s absolutely valid grounds to be expelled. Academic integrity or no, you were the one studying to be the doctor, not him. But besides all this... you know why he did it, right?”

“.............”

“Phoebus. Do you know why Guy did it? Your brother is smart, but an academic setting would be too rigid for someone like him. Besides the fact you are the older brother with more responsibilities, you are the one trusted to be the student for a reason. That is still one less son who could be caring for his mother and sister. Please don’t think about yourself for one moment, Phoebus. Think about Guy. Why would Guy take up your place while you are at home being crushed from the weight of expectations in the classroom?”

“.............N-no.... I don’t want to say he did it to try to save me. Th-that’s not like him....”

“So what is it? To deliberately sabotage your way to success? Do you truly believe Guy isn’t trying to help his family too? Or are you going to hold onto this belief that he is truly a layabout? I don’t know if you’ve ever considered this, Phoebus, and I am sorry to do this to you--but I need you to realize this: Layabouts don’t pose as their identical twin brother in an advanced university class for over a month in order to help him stay in school. Especially if the goal of being in school is to help their sickly mother.”

“............”

“It was over a month, yes? Over a month of posing as you so once you are ready to return to your studies, no one would be the wiser?”

“...............I wonder if he should have been the doctor…. The fact he passed those classes without taking the prerequisites first…”

“Not everyone is suited for academics. He has his weaknesses, and so do you. And yet if you two worked together, I am positive you would succeed in getting that degree with flying colors. Did he not help you study when you’re not on campus?”

“He…. *sniff* He did....”

“Like I said. He compliments you. Guy is far more supportive of you than you think. He can be selfish, yes, but he is selfish in the same way you are: he is simply trying to preserve his identity as his own person, not as just your brother. I genuinely never think he, for once, in the centuries we have known each other…. Would ever want to sabotage your way to success on purpose. Especially out of hatred or spite.”

“No. He wouldn’t. I know he chases away any woman I look at because he’s scared I’ll be walked out on like Pierre walked out on Maman….”

“There you go. See? He looks out for you. Just as you do for him.”

“But I’m not- .... at this moment I’m not-...”

“It’s all right. I know you are not ready to look for him right now. Just as Guy is not ready to come home just yet. Right now, though, I’d like you to eat. Can you come with me to my cabin, Phoebus? I assure you, we can be by ourselves for now.”

“I thank you, Cap- I mean, Josep. I’m ready to come out now.”

#poverty tw #religion tw #illness tw #body horror tw #[Atz'lut v' Ta'avah]#[Phoebus Duchamp]#[Captain Josep Frascona]#[My Brother's Keeper]

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nope-body · 3 years

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My parents have been having a Talk with my sister for at least an hour and a half now, and I’m barely avoiding a panic attack just because I’m listening to a comfort song on repeat with noise canceling headphones.

And I used to think that I didn’t have trauma.

#I’m also lying down because Back Hurt #but I lie on my side for comfort #and I can’t do that with headphones #so I’m like. on the awkward line between calming myself and making myself more anxious #but without the noise canceling headphones I would be having a panic attack so I’m keeping them on #also like. this explains why I am so worried about getting into my top school (or just a college that I would enjoy attending)#because my mental health is actively deteriorating in this house #(despite my meds fighting the anxiety and adhd mostly and somewhat the depression)#if I can get out? if I can get out and live in a literal arboretum and be surrounded by a community of people who share my values?#I would be able to move from the ‘don’t get worse’ stage of treatment to the ‘start healing’ stage #plus while yeah my safety school that I like is decent enough #it’s in *ohio*.#1- there is nothing in ohio #2- unless it’s near a city I doubt I’ll be able to find a decent mental health professional that I can actually go to #my top school is half an hour away from Philadelphia by train- with a train station on campus!#I have like. so many options in a city #and I want to get actual treatment for my trauma and everything #because while I love my therapist; she isn’t trained in trauma therapy. she specializes in adhd and depression and anxiety mostly #she’s wonderful but doesn’t have the expertise in the areas i need

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obeiii-mee · 2 years

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The Brothers stopping MC from sacrificing themselves (Alternative Ending): Part 2

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So uh…this took me long enough to finish….hah.

I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry for the long wait. I’m usually pretty critical of my work and as a result I end up rewriting and editing a bunch of times. Which takes longer for me to finish for bigger requests like these. I did try my very best to make the last part of this series good but I’m a little iffy with how Asmo’s turned out, even though I’m pretty proud of the one I did for Satan. I hope guys enjoyed reading as much I did writing this :)

As usual, get the tissues ready because writing this one for the twins hURT

“MC tries to sacrifice themselves in order to revive Lilith. The following brothers catch them red-handed….”

Characters: Satan, Asmo and the Twins

Warnings: Mentions of gore, blood, attempted suicide, breakdowns, etc. Don’t read if you’re sensitive to this sort of thing.

Part 1 (Lucifer, Mammon and Levi)

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Satan

-“MC….I…”

-If he had been delayed and arrived two minutes later than intended, then you would’ve been dead. That sounds really harsh and by all means it isbut sugar coating the situation wasn’t going to magically fix anything; your arm and your fragile human life hanging on by a thread included.

-It’s a fucked up ritual, uncommon even amongst demons due to its unpredictable behaviour around individuals and the way it reacts with magic as a whole. That’s how you label a spell, or rather a curse since its effects are negative more often than not, as dangerous; if Lord Diavolo himself, the Prince of DevilDom and soon to be the King of its inhabitants, struggles to deal with the aftermath of such powerful curses then no one else really has any business coming in contact with them.

-Now, Satan is aware of all this because he would’ve had to study such topics for school on several occasions. Divination, witchcraft, history of spells, etc. These are all subjects he excels in and has put a lot of time and effort into understanding the concepts between each one. Knowing this, it’s only reasonable to assume that you only survived because he was so well-versed in curses similar to the one you were trying to cast. By the time he got to your room, you were already leaning towards the latest stages of the whole process and it’s generally harder to recover when your body and soul go that far along in cases like this.

-Luckily, you were still conscious. For the most part, that is. As long as you didn’t slip into any kind of critical condition, he was confident that he would be able to heal you in due time. Your wounds were bad but they could’ve been a hell of a lot worse so he reckoned treatment would go smoothly from then on out. Though, Satan isn’t the most optimistic to begin with. The stress was basically eating away at him, tearing him into smaller and smaller pieces until he was left with his thoughts. And the bloody dagger he found next to you.

-He was panicking. And, if you had to guess, he was getting very close to the edge of an angry outburst. You could tell by the constant muttering and laboured breathing as he tried to cauterise your injuries before you bled out. Despite the heavy steams of rage radiating from him, his hands were steady and calculated, doing everything methodically because if he skips even the smallest of steps, it would result in your demise. As he worked on stabilising you and enchanting the room so his brothers wouldn’t come barging in while he was trying to revive you, there was nothing else for you to do except watch him. I mean, you were in some pretty serious pain and it’s been constant ever since you started so it was difficult to focus on much but you couldn’t move, which you assumed was just a side effect of the the curse.

-“MC.”

-You weren’t paying attention so the sound of his voice made you flinch. The way he said it, your name I mean, wasn’t hostile per say but you could definitely tell he was being serious and you could just feel the dread creeping up your back because an angry Satan that raged and threw stuff around was dangerous; however, a Satan that sat in silent fury was straight up lethal and you weren’t about to piss him off even more.

-“Satan…don’t freak out, OK?”

-That appeared to have hit a nerve. He stilled almost immediately and raised his head to look through his bangs at you, glare burning like charcoal despite the softness of his touch. You could argue the fiery pits of hell were present in his irises and the damnation of everyone that has wronged him, confusion mixed with sorrow and droplets of exasperation as if he didn’t understand what exactly you were asking of him. You…wanted him…to not freak out? You might as well have been on your deathbed and you were asking him to not freak out? He wondered for a moment if you realised just how ridiculous you sounded and then came to the conclusion that you were delusional from lack of rest. Or maybe you were in enough pain to start spouting all this nonsense? But he was under the impression he had already used enough spells to lessen the pain of the curse. (A demonic version of morphine if you will). Perhaps he ought to have tried a stronger spell.

-“…MC, I have no doubt that I can cure you but as you can probably notice, I’m not exactly in a position right now where I can afford to relax.”

-“I’m not asking you to cure me.”

-The bewilderment showed on his face. Satan looked at you, blinking slowly as if his brain wasn’t quite capable of processing what you just said, “What?”

-“That was the whole point of this,” you sort of gestured weakly around you, as if to prove a point even though your arm in particular was in extremely bad condition. “I thought you might’ve figured it out by now. You’re quite smart, y’know. And good at putting puzzle pieces together like a detective. You’ve seen the dagger, right?”

-In response, he furrowed his brows and took one glance at the knife again, downright confused until he spotted it; the dark aura surrounding the damned thing and the inscriptions carved onto its handle glowing slightly in the darkness of your room. There was a moment where he didn’t realise what exactly he was staring at and then it dawned upon him that there was only one thing daggers like this could be used for and it certainly wasn’t for cutting vegetables. He turned to you and this time it wasn’t uncertainty that greeted you but the purest form of indignation and wrath.

-“You…why do you…?”

-“Satan, this-“

-“No MC, why the fuck do you have this dagger on you?!” That wasn’t an invitation to answer him. I mean, you could’ve tried but he would’ve just interrupted you again and you wouldn’t have been able to get a word in. Turns out you didn’t have to. It was almost as if he already knew, as if he could already tell exactly what you were thinking, to absolutely no one’s shock or horror. As you said, he’s smart enough to figure things like this out by himself. And he did, regretting it just seconds afterwards. He was still mad but you recognised something other than anguish and fire in those green eyes of his; it could’ve been hurt or regret but you couldn’t separate the two and the next time you looked, it was gone.

-“All of this…just to bring her back?”

-You felt deflated. That was your main goal, yes; to bring your ancestor back in hopes of easing the brothers’ suffering whenever as much as her name was mentioned. That was all you wanted really-to reunite them, allow them to be with each other again or, more accurately, give them a second chance at being a family. You wanted to voice out these concerns but you could sense that Satan wouldn’t find them reasonable enough to justify your actions.

-“If this is what I think it is then I genuinely don’t have anything to say to you besides the simple fact that you did something beyond stupid. There is literally fucking nothing that could make me think otherwise, MC so don’t even try!” It was a warning, from what you could tell. Obviously, Satan did not take the new information well and now he seemed to have swallowed himself into a pit of never ending fury-the kind that won’t let others interfere under any circumstances and one that will easily consume him if left alone. The spells he placed on you were finally starting to take their effect so you no longer felt as sickly as before, which gave you just enough strength to sit up and grab his attention.

-“Satan…snap out of it. If you’ve got something to tell me, then sit down and say it already.” Your throat hurt and had a burning sensation to it every time you spoke, as if you’ve been drowning in cheese graters or something.

-There was an intensity in his stare, visibly wanting to add onto what he stated just moments prior to this but deciding against it. You could definitely see it, the battle between his logical and emotional side resisting each other. He looked conflicted. And restless. Seeing someone as collected as Satan fidgety was a new experience all together but it was on a whole other level peering at this vulnerable demon you’ve barely laid eyes upon. Surprisingly, he did sit down. Being the Avatar of Wrath meant he doesn’t take kindly to commands while he is in a bad mood but then again, you weren’t ordering him to do so. If you were, he would’ve had to obey without a choice. Now, however, he willingly dropped himself onto the seat next to you even if he was gripping its armrests as if his life depended on it. Or rather, as if your life depended on it.

-You half expected him to turn into his demon form but he didn’t and instead spoke whilst trying not to snap at you too much, “I never met her. Our sister, I mean. She was gone almost as soon as I got dragged into this existence by Lucifer’s hatred towards his Father. I don’t know her.” His teeth were gritted and now he was back at checking your injuries, in fear you might’ve moved around too much and opened them. He only seemed satisfied after he ensured you weren’t slipping into a critical condition. “I don’t know anything about her; and I don’t suppose I ever will. Even though they talk about her all the time. And it’s so frustrating-to hear about this person that I don’t know but was apparently the reason for my creation.”

-You thought he might’ve been crying, but you couldn’t get a good glimpse at his face since he was still fussing over you and tightening the bandages he wrapped around you earlier. His voice was wobbly and you didn’t know either; had no idea what he was going to do next. Teeth gritted, he roughly ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the blood splotches covering it-your blood, “I don’t know her…but…there are times where I can feel her.”

-He stopped and placed hand over his chest, his nails digging into his shirt as if trying to stab his way in. The action seemed almost unsettling because of how aggressive he was being. “Times when I look at them and I can’t understand their sorrow or what the hell they’re feeling and yet I still find myself resonating with them all. It hurts. To the point I want to claw my heart out because it’s too much to deal with and then I try to understand but I still don’t. I know that she was my sister and that in exchange for her, my brothers got me instead. I know…she was kind but that’s mostly because that’s what I’ve been told, not because I’ve experienced it myself. I know she was important but I don’t know her and so the only attachment I have with her is spiritual. And that’s it.

-You struggled to listen to him and even as you did, you had no idea whether to laugh or cry. You ended doing a mixture of both, weeping and breaking into laughter at how ridiculous it all was. With pools gathering at the corner of your eyes, you rubbed them away with your fists as harshly as you could. His hands reached for yours, and you stopped. Talk about an unexpected turn of events. You were so sure of yourself just a few minutes ago and now you were forced to wonder if maybe your reasoning was wrong. Because Satan told you so and you trust his judgement more than you trust your own simply because he’s the smartest demon you know.

-“MC.” He said again, his wrath dissipating almost immediately as he traced your palm with his fingers subconsciously, “It would be…great if I could see her. At least once. I do want to know her and it’s hard not to when you live with my brothers. But not by trading your life away. That’s all I have to say about the matter.” Satan moved from your hands to your face, gently cupping your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if he was being affectionate or inspecting it for any signs of sickness, “I love you. So please, just…don’t leave me behind like that. Just…don’t. Stay here.”

-You wouldn’t have been able to leave even if you wanted to because he was still holding you and showed no intention of giving up any time soon. There was an urgency to the way he did it, and you guessed that he was still feeling antsy about the whole thing. All you could do was in lean on to his touch and nod your head. Things escalated so quickly, your brain really couldn’t keep up with all of the emotions you felt during this whole encounter. So, you cried properly this time around and he pretended not to notice as he continued to embrace you, allowing your thoughts to settle in properly before any further discussion was made.

-The Avatar of Wrath knows better than anyone else how overwhelming it is to be compared to someone you don’t particularly want to be associated with. Growing in Lucifer’s shadow since the day he was created was more like a cruel joke to him, and he ached to know you had similar experiences, to the point you were willing to exchange your life away just like that.

-There aren’t enough words in any pre-existing language on this Earth that could describe the pure rage he knew coursed through him at the very thought of you being dead, how lonely he would be once you were gone for good and how much he would miss your presence. He couldn’t let that happen, and to prevent this, he would need to keep a closer eye on you. After you were healed of course! And Satan was going to make certain your recovery would be quick-no matter whose blood he’d have to spare for that to be possible.

Asmo:

-“MC? Oh…”

-There was a lot to process at once. It would seem that he stumbled across something he wasn’t supposed to see-the atmosphere felt heavy and he could feel a draft coming from what he assumed was an opened window. From what he could tell, and that wasn’t much since his eyes filled with tears before he had the chance to straighten his thoughts out, his poor human was extremely sick.

-Honestly, there wasn’t a better explanation for the paleness of your skin, or for your bloodshot eyes or the dagger that you were weakly holding in your hand. Actually, the knife didn’t make any sense whatsoever but you knew it wouldn’t take long before he figured it out. You felt a lump form in your throat at the sight of Asmo panicking his way inside. It didn’t help that you dropped the knife as soon as you made eye contact with him so now he definitely took notice of it.

Obviously, he rushed to your side almost immediately and didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself. You could tell, however, that he was freaking out because he was babbling something alone the lines of ‘reverse spells’ and so on, which meant Asmo could probably sense the magic used in the room. The dagger was the final act of the ritual but now it was lying on the floor and the fifth-born kicked it too, for good measure. It skidded across the floorboards and as it did, the sound made you cringe. Everything was too loud and you felt overwhelmed and dizzy and as if you were floating. You weren’t dead, of course but the curse had already taken its toll on your body and now you were starting to feel the effects.

-“MC?! Oh no-this…this isn’t right! The concentration of the magic in this room is too much for a human to handle, no wonder you are so ill! We need to get you out of here soon, otherwise….otherwise…!”

-You kind of wanted him to shut up. He was making too much noise. Still, you could feel your throat burning up and for some reason, you couldn’t speak no matter how hard you tried to get the words out. As if that wasn’t enough, you could feel pressure on your chest and now that you were aware of it, it made it harder for you to breathe. It almost felt as if the air itself was poisonous and your lungs were basically on fire for some reason. Then…you just passed out. You didn’t slowly drift off or anything, all of a sudden your vision just went black and then you were out for good.

-Thinking about it now, you must’ve been unconscious for days on end. I mean, you were stuck in a sort of dream-like state for what felt like forever. Moments passed by too slowly and you couldn’t do much besides sit and listen to the occasional sounds coming from somewhere farther away. Even when you did, eventually, wake up, things were still hazy for you. You knew someone was forcing some kind of medicine down your throat but other than that, you couldn’t tell much about your surroundings since they were too blurry to make anything out of them.

-In any case, the treatment must’ve been going well because you regained your senses soon afterwards. Or most of them, anyway. Nothing was blurring out anymore and your hearing seemed to have stabilised, more or less. You weren’t exactly healed yet but at least you weren’t writhing away on the floor anymore, in absolute agony. You don’t remember what happened after you lost track of everything back then. If you had to guess, Asmo called his brothers and you were carried to your bed, which is where you woke up to begin with. You imagine they were all freaking out pretty badly but the thing that confirmed this was the fact that your room was a total mess. Usually, this means the brothers all trampled over it in their frantic attempt to save you. Honestly, nothing was where it was supposed to be anymore.

-Apparently, from what you could gather, Lucifer and Satan were the only ones tending to you on a regular basis, with the occasional Mammon stomping in and demanding to see you. You figured that was reasonable enough-they were kind of the only ones with expertise on the matter of keeping you alive and you assumed they’ve already had doctors (both demon and human) check on you several times a day. They told you’ve been out for a few weeks and that even though the progress is slow, you’re getting better. Weirdly enough, they didn’t question you too much about what happened but there was no way in hell they didn’t already know. Either because Asmo told them or because they came to that conclusion themselves. It was the two of them that treated you up until now, so it’s not that incomprehensible.

-You didn’t get to see Asmo until a while later. Simply because your room was sealed off from everyone else to reduce the amount of physical and mental strain on you. By the time you were fully capable of moving your arms by yourself again and sitting up without any kind of support, Lucifer and Satan both relented and allowed their siblings to visit as often as they deemed fit.

-You really thought the twins or Mammon would be the first to rush in and see you but instead, it was the fifth born that came running in with tears streaming down his face and his make up all smudged, hair ruffled and disheveled as if he hasn’t been taking care of it for ages. It made you uneasy-to see him like this, knowing how much he values self care and looking after himself. In a way, it was hard for you to admit he was going through all of this because of you. And the thought made you frustrated since you’re the one that elicited such a reaction from him whilst you were trying to fix everything.

-“MC…I….I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU!-“

-Before you could say anything or even contemplate on how you should answer, he lunged himself at you at full force, nearly knocking both of you off the bed. Despite this, he didn’t back off and continued to cry into your shoulder, tightening his grasp on you the harder he sobbed. You didn’t know how to comfort him besides returning his desperate hug, and you didn’t have much to say either. So, you stayed in that same position for what could’ve been hours, until your hands were stiff and Asmo didn’t have the strength to cry anymore. His body was still shaking, even as he pulled away and sat down next to you, eyes downcast.

-“Asmo….I’m sorry.”

-Your voice was barely above that of a whisper, as if anything louder than that was going to set him off into a weeping fit again. In all honesty, you don’t recall a time where you had be this careful around Asmo or be as wary of him as you were at the moment. That’s probably because he was the type to make the people around him feel at ease; like a special skill he possessed, the ability to spread his cheerfulness and attitude towards others. Well, that’s mostly due to his charisma but nevertheless, the point still stands. Watching him dig himself deeper and deeper into despair and sorrow was horribly painful since it was a clear contrast to his usual self. You apologised but the words were hollow knowing that you had caused this and a simple ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t cut it.

-He was silent for several more beats. Then, he raised his head and something didn’t feel right about the way he moved. Even as he shuffled around, his manoeuvres came off as mechanical, lacking any sort of flow or appeal and overall…dull. Now that he wasn’t sobbing his eyes out and you could get a good glimpse of his face; he seemed tired. Wary and aggrieved and terribly sad. But mostly tired.

-“MC…do you realise how scared I was?“

-Your turn to stay quiet. His voice was tight, and that’s how you knew this was going to end in tears again. Without much of a warning, his arm shot out and he grabbed your hand, gripping as hard as he could and almost crushing every bone in there to nothing more than powder.

-“Because I was petrified. Because…because you were sitting there, not moving and I didn’t know what to do. Because…..I….I genuinely thought I was watching you die-“

-There was nothing to say to that either. You couldn’t find the words for it and you decided you didn’t need to. Asmo was pouring his heart out to you and your own chest was hurting again, the stinging and pinching from earlier came back, and this time you knew you were just overwhelmed hearing him falter as he spoke. You could feel something warm trickling down your face and onto your lap, but you wiped the tears off before more followed and composed yourself. This wasn’t the right moment to cry about anything. If anything, you had to let him say his piece and move on without interruption because no real progress would be made otherwise.

-“MC…whatever reason you may have…if you try something like this again, I won’t forgive you. Ever.”

-This was unexpected. From the moment he entered the room, it was obvious that his feelings of dismay have already consumed him for more than just a few days, judging by his appearance alone but also by the toned down version of his mannerisms and speech. It gave the impression that he was a lot more introverted than he actually was. The deal with Asmo is that he is, and always has been, the loud and obnoxious type, willing to be as flamboyant and extravagant as possible, which further added onto his charm. The one that sat next to you, in that dreary and even (one could say) suffocating room, was none of those things. There were still traces, of course; the reflex of his hand grabbing yours, the struggle to keep his emotions at bay and the sporadic bouncing of his leg, itching to stand up and do something. Even so, he sounded cold. And you only expected cold when you were just about ready to just die and get it over with. You did not expect it from Asmo.

-“…I was-“

-His movements caught you off guard, as they always did. You found yourself facing him as he squeezed your shoulders now, hands empty with his warmth still lingering around. Funnily enough, despite your hesitance to meet his eyes and the slight trembling of your body, you relaxed almost immediately, as if the idea of tensing up whilst Asmo was around is downright unheard of. If anything, the only thing on your mind at that exact point was the fragrance of his shampoo and the inviting softness of his skin. You could easily understand now; how he could seduce humans and demons alike by touch alone. It was tempting. And then your head began hurting like crazy, breaking the spell before it even started. Though the pain was more or less subsided thanks to the heaps of medicine you were required to take, you would get random headaches every once in a while. As a sort of reminder, you suppose, of what you did and how close you were to biting the bullet. You wanted to lie back down but he continued to clutch on to you, eyes lacking any tenderness as his face gravely morphed into one of seriousness. You’ve never seen him make an expression like that and, quite honestly, never wanted to watch him do that again.

-“I don’t care.”

-There was a certain edge to the way he said it, not taking into consideration the abrupt change in his tone of voice or the roughness behind it. He sounded hoarse, as if his throat gave out completely. Which would make sense if you took more than a minute to think about all the crying he’s done.

-“…What-“

-“I don’t care what you were trying to do!” He shook your for a bit, as if to emphasise his point and drill it into your head. “That doesn’t matter! At all! The only thing that does matter is that you never do it again because next time I…”

-Trailing off, he released your shoulders and somehow you could formulate the rest of his sentence without actually having to hear him finish it. He obviously did not want to hear anymore on the matter and you were too exhausted to persist, drowsily keeping an eye on him as he fretted around you, slowly slipping back to his natural self now that he was sure you weren’t on your deathbed. It was kind of amusing, really. How he paced in circles in front of you, loudly describing all of the spa days he was going to have with you once you could actually stand up without any help. You imagined he’d already planned about fifty different trips to the salon and Majolish in less than two minutes but you didn’t expect anything less from the jewel of DevilDom, the one demon that is argued to have more influence at times than Lucifer himself.

-There was, of course, doubt. About many things, but mostly concerning how your actions impacted the members of that household. You’ve seen Asmo in a state you never wished to see him again in; it’s a rare occurrence for him not to look his absolute best but under the circumstances, you believed you were at fault for his lack of self care. Still, his visit promptly opened your eyes and made you come to the realisation that things would’ve taken a turn for the worse if you were to actually die. What you were witness to that day; that was just a glimpse of what the future could’ve held. And it was terrifying because of how out of character it was. The idea of everything going downhill saddened you, so, for the sake of Asmo if nothing else, you attempted to refrain from giving the whole ‘reincarnation’ curse another go. Just in case.

-Eventually, after you were no longer running high on emotions, you would’ve had the courage to tell him. The reasoning behind your attempt at taking your life and replacing it with hers. How it felt as if it was your responsibility to bring them all together again. It was a hard thing to do, admitting to the belief you were basing this whole operation on. Coming to terms with the fact that it was inherently foolish. It didn’t end up changing a lot, to be honest. Asmodeus continued to feel just as strongly about the situation as he did before, if not even more so.

-Granted, now he was no longer blinded by distress or tears so that made it easier for him to understand just how much of an impact his family had on you. By all means, you’ve helped them a great deal in the past, and it’s thanks to you that he even got to see the day where his family’s major problems were sorted out. However, your consideration was starting to alarm him a little bit. This wasn’t to say that he didn’t still heavily mourn for his sister but in his mind, Lilith’s chapter was over. Bringing her back would open up a whole new can of worms that he wasn’t sure anyone would be able to handle. The bottom line is that she no longer exists. That’s it. She’s dead, and has been for a while. As much as he looks back on his memories with her in fondness, he doesn’t suffer nearly as much as he used to at the thought of her, as the wound of her demise closed and quiet recently too. He’s got you to thank for that. Which is exactly what he ended up repeating to you over and over again, as he ran out of things to say and felt as if those words weren’t enough to convince you.

-Asmodeus no longer has the strength to endure the pain he feels whenever he loses something precious to him. Time always takes something-whether that’d be status or family members or even something as insignificant as a good night’s rest, which is essentially to a demon’s natural beauty. There’s always something missing sooner rather than later. Companionship is what he craved more often than not. When days dragged out for hours and hours, and he was already spent out even if he had no reason to. You made him feel….complete, but not in the traditional way. He possibly yearns for your presence, your attention and validation, more than anything else in the world and that’s perhaps what helps him regain his strength. Being left behind again… would hurt too much so even the fleeting thought of it tends to frighten him. Even once he no longer fears for your life, he still wonders if he could bring himself to live without you there by his side.

The Twins:

-“…..”

-The stench of your room is what really tipped him off about what was going on. It is subtle, meaning there’s not much of it to begin with, but the putrid odour of rust was definitely there and only amplified by the presence of unknown magic his nose could just about make out. He could sense it, swirling around and around, corrupting the actual fragrance of your belongings and replacing it with something so foul it made him want to vomit. There’s not many things out there that can make the sixth born recoil in disgust but that fear-inducing smell has got to be in his top five and as a result, it was no wonder he started shaking long before he laid eyes on you.

-“…Beel.”

-Even from the doorway, he could see the prominent splashes of blood that stained your bedsheets and the way it continued to drip onto your carpet; a noise that could only be described as deafening because it blocked everything else out and forced him to acknowledge that something was definitely not right. Panic finally settled in and the sight of you laying there, drained and possibly in unbelievable pain, made him to ignore everything that was going on in the background, including the way his brother called out to him. From an outside perspective, he looked as if he had malfunctioned, as if he physically couldn’t handle what he was seeing. And that was, essentially, the case.

-He could feel it. The weight placed on his shoulders at the mere thought of you dying. It was heavy, the burden of your death and the knowledge that he could’ve saved you but somehow failed to do so. You were still very much alive but he imagined you as a rotting corpse for more than a second and his whole world fell apart at that dreadful conclusion. It sent him into a frenzy of incoherent emotions he wasn’t prepared for and before he had the chance to process anything, he rushed to your side by the bed in an almost desperate manner. Quickly thereafter, he dropped to his knees and reached for your hand as he carefully pinned it against his chest, grip tightening when he noticed the smear of blood on your wrist. You didn’t really know if he was crying or not but maybe you would’ve been able to tell from the shakiness of his hand on yours or by the choked sob he let out as he hung his head low, unwilling to meet your tired eyes. Because he knew…he knew he managed to fail you again, just like he did before and just like he failed Lilith all those centuries ago.

-Belphie gave up trying to get him to listen. The state of mind Beel was in could not be easily breached and there was no way he would be able to pry him off you to begin with. Attempting to console his brother would be meaningless because situations like these never have a simple answer and it’s not like he would accept words of comfort that easily anyway so keeping quiet is really the only choice he has. Better that he leave the comforting to you, though not even that may end up being enough to make Beel feel better.

-The youngest found you first, surprisingly enough. In truth, he had stomped off earlier that day after a nasty fight with Lucifer and planned on locking himself in the attic until he cooled off before he had the chance to blow up on anyone else. However, on his way there, he happened to pass by your room and as he did, he caught a whiff of an odd smell that just about knocked him over from how potent it was. Perhaps he should’ve gone to get help from the others before investigating but he entered because by then, he hasn’t fully imagined the severity of the situation.

-Safe to say, he didn’t really know how to react when he found you writhing about the floor, puddles of blood forming around you and the dagger that was quite literally stabbed into your abdomen at the time. And then, seconds after stumbling across this scene, he had a moment where he could feel it slipping. It could’ve been his own sanity for all he knew or maybe his vision was just going blurry because of the tears or the suffocating scent overpowering everything because he thought he might collapse. And he probably would’ve, had he not stilled himself against the nearest wall and allowed himself to regain his composure for a minute or two. Or, at the very least, try to take rein of his emotions again because he knew he would have to do something and soon.

-Considering he was running out of options, the only logical thing he could do was help you off the floor and onto your bed, despite your insistent protests which did nothing to ease his nerves or convince him put you down. You were talking to him by then, but he was barely even paying you any attention since he was trying to figure out how bad the wound was. Or rather…the wounds. In comparison to Satan, he wasn’t quite as educated about the nature of spells since he slept through most of those classes but he could recognise one without much of a problem. And from what he could tell, things weren’t looking good at all. As he was pondering on what should be done, Beel entered the scene and, though he’ll be a bit reluctant to admit it, his presence made him feel slightly relieved. Having to handle this by himself would’ve been too much.

-“Beel…”

-It surprised you-just how weak your voice actually was. It came out as a whisper when you really intended for it to be loud enough to be heard over Belphie’s mumbling and Beel’s quiet breakdown. Right now, you were in a rather uncomfortable position; sitting up despite your wounds hurting like a bitch, the awkward feeling of being soaked in blood and the almost vice-like grip Beel had on you didn’t exactly help either. It was difficult having to focus on all of that though, because having the twins here doubled the pace of your pulse and now you were actually wondering if your heart was going to end up leaping out of your chest with how hard it was beating. The problem was that you had no idea what to say or how to explain to them what exactly you were up to. Neither of them are stupid enough to believe any bullshit excuse you may be able to conjure in that limited time so you speechless.

-“…You guys-“

-“What the fuck were you doing?”

-His question felt more like a demand than anything else. The bite in his tone of voice was expected but it still stung to hear it; to him it may have been justified, his frustration and his need to ask you what, exactly, your intentions were because stuff like this was unfathomable from his perspective but you weren’t in a position where you could be harshly interrogated without some kind of drawback on your mental health. Having people lecture sucks. But what hurts even more is when you try to help only to elicit negative reactions from those around you. Beel turned his head around to face his brother, mouth slightly agape, as if he finally realised he was there.

-“Belphie…maybe we shouldn’t yell-“

-“How can you say that?!” Belphie rounded on his brother now, brows furrowed and his face contorting into a scowl as the tips of his ears began to redden out of irritation. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the seventh born express himself so sincerely. Usually he acts all sneaky-like and hides behind the backs of others when misbehaving but now he was fully lashing out and even turning on his own twin of all people, “Look at them, Beel! They are, quite literally, hanging on for dear life right now! Shit, and I don’t even know if I can hold this spell off until everyone else gets home. Fuck if I know a single thing about damaged souls! Why the fuck did everyone decide today is the best day to leave the human unsupervised?!”

-Clearly exasperated, he started pulling on his own hair, as if that would help him conjure up some kind of decent solution. Everything his mind was coming up with was half-assed and wouldn’t actually work under any practical circumstances so at one point, he just groaned and smashed his head against the wall to his left, hand tangling itself with the vines attached to the surfaces of your bedroom. For a moment, you thought he was going to try and rip them off but he just looked at you again and this time you could tell he wasn’t going to take silence for an answer. You could feel Beel’s eyes on you as well and the pressure bubbling up from the very pit of your stomach made you fumble through your words a little.

-“…I don’t know, I felt that-“

-“You don’t know? MC, that’s just bullshit.” He pointed an accusatory finger at your bleeding covers and then at the dirty dagger that remained on the ground where he found to begin with, “You can’t look me in the eye and tell me you don’t know how you got those cuts across your chest.”

-You felt inclined to zip your mouth shut and never make eye contact with anyone ever again. Moving around made your skin feel as if it were on fire and there was nothing you would’ve liked to do more than to lay down and sleep because you were under the impression you were going to black out soon. However, you could tell that wasn’t gonna happen judging by the firm hold Beel had on you. Perhaps he was afraid that if you fell asleep, you might not wake up again. You didn’t want to look at him. Instead, you dug your nails into your palm and let your eyes fall downcast, at the filthy carpet.

-“MC….”

-The sixth born didn’t say much else but it was obvious he was also expecting an answer from you. And to be honest, they both deserved one. You really wished you could’ve prevented this because it created so many holes in your otherwise flawless plan. You never intended for them to find out your motives or reasoning because you didn’t know how they were going to react. This could apply to all of the brothers but the twins especially are quite unpredictable when it comes to most matters concerning the past and Lilith as whole. Tears were pricking your eyes long before you even started speaking because it finally dawned on you that your idea ended up hurting everyone more than you wanted it to. The whole point was to help them and yet you did the complete opposite.

-“I….I was trying to bring Lilith back.”

-At the mention of his sister’s name, Beel’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped, obviously taken off guard by your words. You could feel his gaze trained on your face, searching for some sort of explanation because that was the last thing he expected you to say. In truth, he was still semi-convinced that you were attacked by some random, low-life demon scum but now that you openly admitted to attempting a ritual that was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, too much for a human like you, he really didn’t know what to think. Actually, he was pretty confused and that was putting it mildly. He didn’t quite understand what Lilith had to do with it, or why her memory had to be involved in this business.

-Belphie didn’t react as much. His expression stayed the same, though it was clear as day that his eyes hardened and that his shoulders tensed in a way that wasn’t natural his usual demeanour. You couldn’t figure out if that response surprised him as much as it did his brother because there was a tiny fragment of a chance that he already put all the pieces of the jigsaw together and processed the overall image presented him. The youngest could be classified as intelligent, if only he was willing to put in more effort towards day to day activities. You’ve dully noted that, recently, the amount of effort used in his time spent with you and Beel has increased significantly.

-Neither of them said anything. A silent agreement between the brothers, if you were to guess. Some sort of understanding. They both wanted you to finish. You should’ve known a single sentence wouldn’t be enough to quench their curiosity because that’s just how they are. Even without saying anything, they were asking you to expand on everything and go in as much detail as humanly possible. You had no choice but to oblige.

-“It’s just…I didn’t know what else to do to help and we were learning about the revival of souls in RAD at some point and I found a bunch of interesting books on the matter while studying for an upcoming exam and-shit!”

-You were getting too worked up to continue. Your adrenaline was still running high but the pain from your injuries was steadily worsening. Maybe it was just your imagination running wild, but the thought that the bleeding still hasn’t stopped crossed your mind once or twice as you reiterated your story to the boys. You didn’t look down to check and tried to keep your hands as far away from your wounds as you could. If you didn’t get this off your chest now, you probably wouldn’t be able to do it again, no matter how much the others may prod at you to do it.

-“If I died to bring Lilith back, wouldn’t everything get sorted out? I mean, I thought she might be able to help you guys a hell of a lot more than I ever could- because she’s your sister, right? I found this ritual, in a textbook I borrowed from Solomon, that talked about reincarnation and the ideas behind lost souls. Reading that got me thinking about you guys and how you all really deserve to have your sister back with you. If I only needed to sacrifice myself to make that happen, it’s really a no-brainer so-“

-You trailed off; unsure on how to end that line of thought. Suddenly, your ability to put your feelings into words disappeared and you were just left with this uncertainty about what would come next. Beel had tears streaming down his face by now and judging by the slightly wobble of his lips, you could there there more waterworks in store for him that would only lead to a breakdown of emotions.

-“You are cruel.”

-The interruption made you snap your head in the Belphie’s direction and the jerkiness of your action made you jolt because the pain was definitely not getting easier to ignore. His sharp words were a jab, or more like a full-on stab, clearly directed at you, obviously meant to hurt. It was just how the Avatar of Sloth operated, he slowly lets his irritation sizzle out of control and then he has no filter for what feels like forever, saying anything that comes to mind and what he believes to be true. The scowl on his face said as much.

-“You can stare at me all you want MC, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were making assumptions about what would be best for us! You don’t get to make that decision! That’s up to us and us alone! I’ll decide what’s fucking best for me and that’s definitely not you sacrificing yourself for my non-existent benefit. I don’t need that! What I need is for you to get this through your thick head MC, that’s it!”

-“I don’t need this either, MC. What would I do if you were to leave like this? I…”

-Following the angry rant of his brother, Beel’s slightly calmer demeanour took off guard again. His cheeks were still stained with tears but other than that, it was almost impossible to decipher the fact that he had been crying just moments prior to this, save for the glazed eyes gazing at you. He seemed to be more composed and he wasn’t shaking anymore but you could still sense a vulnerability hanging about him. You were on the losing side of this argument and yet you still had to protest because your efforts alone wouldn’t be enough to make them happy, no matter how much you may have helped them in the past.

-“Beel…you could get your sister back? Isn’t that the best possible outcome? My death, compared to hers anyway, is nothing particular special so you don’t need to feel guilty-“

-“Just shut up.” Out of nowhere, an additional hand appeared and softly dropped on top of your head, as what you could only guess were means of comforting you. You didn’t hear Belphie approach, having forgotten how quiet his footsteps could be if he wished to be stealthy in the presence of others. This was severely out of character for the spiteful seventh born, who would much rather bury himself alive than admit defeat and put his defences down. “Shut up about that. Just because I was a idiot and said some stupid things about you back then doesn’t mean you have to go ahead and parrot me like a fucking parakeet, alright? Please….”

-You kept silent after this. Really, you had nothing to refute his reasoning with. Seeing how utterly desperate they both seemed, you couldn’t bring yourself to continue because they appeared to take everything you said to heart. Besides, the pain was becoming too unbearable to tolerate so even though Belphie was still speaking, you couldn’t concentrate on a word he was saying because of it. You weren’t even standing upright on your own anymore, mostly using Beel as a support system which he noticed instantly. In the next few seconds, he helped you lay back down and touched your forehead to get a vague idea of how your fever was coming along. On the other hand, you felt as if you were drunk, if nothing else. Tipsy. Your immediate surroundings were sort of tipping over and you felt sick to your stomach. You have no idea how you could handle it so we’ll before. You must’ve been so preoccupied with the twins and defending your mindset when this all began to the point you could block out the merciless nature of your wounds.

-Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Belphie pulling out his D.D.D, trying to contact one of his brothers and inform them about your current condition, in hopes of hurrying their arrival home. After telling his twin to keep an eye on you and not let you fall asleep, he stepped out of your room, still speaking on the phone with whoever was on the other line. You were alone with Beel now and he had you pressed against his chest now, hugging you and paying any mind to the blood getting all over him in the process. You didn’t even realise he had climbed in bed with you but it didn’t matter, because whenever Beel gets clingy like this means that he’s set on one goal and one goal only. From lack of blood and the dark magic coursing your body, you were too far gone to actually figure out what he was so determined to do. As you willed yourself to stay awake and save him the trouble taking care of you, he started talking to you again, allowing himself to be speak his mind and be honest with you about his thoughts and feelings because you told him he always could whenever you two were alone. You ignored the tears gathering in your eyes as you listened and curled your hands into his shirt, even though you were already basically glued to him already.

- “Lilith’s death was the biggest regret of my life, MC. Not my fall from glory or the lost position I had as a high ranking angel. Not the fact I am cursed with this insatiable hunger that can never be satisfied or the fact that I can’t get my brothers to get along as often as I wish they would. I couldn’t reach her in time, even though I tried and I tried so hard to save them both because I knew I would crumble apart without either of them by my side. I just couldn’t. My best wasn’t enough that day, MC. But…if I can help you and if I can help Belphie too, then I’m happy. I’m happy to have you here with me and I’m happy to still have Belphie too. I’m happy you’re both still here because there’s no one else I’d rather have. And because of that, you need to get better MC. And you will. And I know it hurts. But I’ll still be here. I’ll be here and I’ll wait if I have to. And I know Belphie will too, even though he’s really grumpy right now. So don’t worry MC. I can be of help this time around.”

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This was so late but even more so than planned. I had no internet for the past week or so and as a result this post had to be delayed a bit longer. I’m really sorry for the long wait-between the lack of motivation and overall irl things happening out here, I couldn’t seem to get it finished. Nonetheless, it’s our now and I hope you all enjoy reading it :)

@hanafubukki I …uh, finished your request. Finally. After two months. And thank you for sending it to me otherwise it would’ve been lost forever, I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help so thank you 🌸🌸

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softomi · 3 years

Text

I bet my wife is scarier than yours.

Kuroo Testuro

He was always lectured by you to take off his wedding ring when he went to the bathroom, but he was never worried about his ring. It would pass over his head as he washed his hands, urging to himself that the next time he’d do it. But today, his face fallen and pale; it didn’t help that you were already currently angry with him for forgetting to move the wet clothes from the washer to the drier; and now he watched in horror as his wedding ring slipped off his finger and into the drain.

“What are you doing?” Your hands on your hips when you see his hand stuffed into the sink.

Kuroo laughs, “Just thought I’d fix the drain.”

You eyed him before moving your way to the laundry room. Kuroo whips out his phone, emergency texting his friends who gave zero decent input into his situation. He fears that he may have to spend another week sleeping on the couch; or worse, kicked out of his home until he can replace his ring.

But he wasn’t going to let that happen, even if it meant they have to hire a plumber later to fix what he breaks, then so be it; as long as you never find out.

“You lost your ring didn’t you.” Out from under the kitchen sink, Kuroo watches your facial features frown, arms cross, and a deep irritated sigh.

“I swear honey, I’ll get it back. It’s in the stupid drain. Just don’t be mad.” When Kuroo finally manages to unscrew the bottom, he feels triumphant. He shakes the ends a bit and out falls two rings. Kuroo curiously picks up the band that was clearly not his, staring at it until he realizes, it was your ring, “What the? You lost your ring!” Kuroo is using his shirt to clean the diamond, “This cost a fortune and you let it fall through the drain!”

Your hand collides with his head, your lips twitching, “Were you not digging in the drain for yours too?”

Iwaizumi Hajime

Many thought that there was nothing that could scare the man. He was immune to bugs, horror films, even when his friends try to surprise him; it never really works. Nothing scares him; or so they thought. It was one thing for him to bring his kids to work, sure, he’s done it hundreds of times on days when he knew it was going to be slow; but you specifically told him to keep the children off the court. Has he ever listened; no because in his mind, what could go wrong, apparently everything.

“Now what are we going to tell mommy?” Iwaizumi has stopped the car now, parked right in front of their home, he turns to his two children. His beautiful six year old daughter and his two year old son.

The little girl has remnants of ice cream still on her face, “I fell!”

He should have known better than to trust a six year old, the moment she walked through the doors and saw her caring, beautiful, loving mother; she began to bawl uncontrollably. Incoherent crying mixed with child snot, Iwaizumi was praying that you couldn’t understand her and would ultimately just make her stop crying.

“What!” You stood to your feet, “You let her go out onto the court! You know how dangerous that can be with all the guys spiking volleyballs all over the place.” You step forward but he’s using his two year old son as a shield, “Hajime!”

“She was just playing with Atsumu and then she fell!” Your eyes narrow on the male and he concedes immediately, “Okay so Atsumu set the ball, Bokuto spiked it, it landed right in front of her and might of hit her face for a second.” You let out a large gasp, “But I checked! She doesn’t have any major injuries! Right?” Iwaizumi attempts to pat his daughter on the head but she sinks behind her mother’s legs; the ultimate betrayal.

“Hajime.” You take a step forward but he uses his son as a shield again, “Hajime!” The male side steps you, practically skipping to the bedroom with his son, “Don’t even think that you’re sleeping in our bed tonight!”

Bokuto Koutarou

Bless his soul, somehow you’ve thought it would be the most fantastic idea to leave him alone with his one and a half year old daughter. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been alone with her before, but this would officially be the first time that you actually spend a full twenty-four hours away from the house, the baby, and your husband. You had left him a list of instructions on how to feed her, different house chores needing to be done, and even a detailed timetable of your daughter’s day.

“Oh no, please don’t cry. If you cry, then daddy’s going to cry.” Bokuto sits on the living room floor, his daughter sat right in front of him with the worst cry on her face.

It’s two hours until you said you’d be back and Bokuto is just realizing now that he hasn’t done anything you asked. He thought that if he put his daughter to sleep just an hour earlier, perhaps he’d have enough time to finish the chores; what he discovers is that his daughter wouldn’t sleep, instead she continued to bawl in the bed and even when it neared her nap time; Bokuto made the mistake of letting her have a sugary treat, obviously she wouldn’t sleep.

“I’m home?” Your words are drawn out when you step into the living room, your daughter and husband on the floor just on the verge of tears, the living room a mess with toys all over the floor, the laundry sprawled out onto the couch, and for some reason there’s paint on the floors and walls, “Koutarou!”

You pick up your daughter who crawled to your foot, her crying slows down when she’s in your arms and Bokuto sheepishly looks to you, “Welcome home honey!”

“Do you want to explain?” Your hand gestures to the entire house that is a mess, “I gave you a very detailed list Kou!”

He stands, arms encasing you into a hug, “I’m so sorry!” He’s peppering away your angered expression with kisses and you can’t help but to smile. His hands are leading you to the bedroom, “I’ll clean everything up, just rest!”

He wasn’t able to clean everything up, when you emerged from the bedroom with your daughter napping, you saw that somehow the mess got bigger. Your hands on your hips, a scowl on your lips, when he tries to skip to you with puckered lips, you throw a pillow to his face. Maybe he’d be better off sleeping at Akaashi’s place.

Kita Shinsuke

It hadn’t been long since the both of you tied the knot let alone since finding out you were expecting his first child, so there were many changes in his routine. He’s persistent though, if he could do it one day then the next day he could do it too. Ever since you’ve entered the stage of pregnancy where you want to eat everything and anything, Kita finds himself at the grocery store more often than he would routinely like to.

“Yes dear.” Kita listens to you ramble a list of things you would like from the store, he was absolutely tired and wasn’t writing anything down. You had been in a bad mood all day due to your sore lower back and anything Kita has tried hasn’t worked.

“Are you listening? Honey, I really want watermelon, that’s what I want the most. I don’t want the prepackaged ones, I want an entire watermelon.”

He insists he was listening but when faced with the two different type of watermelon, all Kita can remember is you saying prepackaged. So the frown you have on your face when he pulls out a little clear container of watermelon, his memory rushes back to recall that you specifically asked for a fresh watermelon.

“I’ll go back to the store.” He gulps.

“No.” Your words are sharp, the smile on your face sends a chill down his spine, “It’s okay, maybe our son will be happy that his father has given him poor watermelon instead of listening to his loving wife who asked for a fresh watermelon. Shinsuke! You said you were listening!”

He was dejected to sitting outside, pulling at the random grass as he looked over his rice field. He turns when he hears footsteps, you were pouting while looking down at him. If there was anything that he was glad about with your mood swings, it was that your anger left as quickly as it came. He stands, a hand supporting your back to lead you back to the house.

“Why don’t we go to the store together? I’ll buy you everything you want.”

Oikawa Tooru

It was no secret that the two of you were angry with each other, the restaurant was awfully cheery compared to the silent treatment that you were giving Oikawa and the one that he was giving right back at you. So you two settled on just not talking to each other; but the more you stayed silent, the more Oikawa felt uneasy. Because now you were reaching an entirely new type of mad, one where you looked calm and collected but deep down in your eyes, he was screwed.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spits out in the middle of the meal.

“For what?” You inquire, sipping the soup from your spoon slowly without looking at him.

He lowers his head, “I’m sorry I decided to go hang out with the guys instead of coming home to you, my lovely and adorable wife who I adore and love.” He tries sending you a sweet smile, hoping that his sugarcoated words would bring you back to smile for him.

“Not good enough.” Your words stab him in the back. You set the spoon down, opting to finally look at him before lifting your hand. You place a finger down, “I told you to come home early tonight so we could clean the house.” Another finger down, “You lied to me saying you had to practice longer.” Another finger, “You go over to Iwaizumi’s place because he just got the PS5 and you just had to play.” Another, “You forgot to take out the trash this morning which I told you to do before you left.” One more finger, “If you want to play with Iwaizumi so much then go sleep at his place.”

His heart is wounded, still, he tries to be sweet and caring, “You shouldn’t be so stressed honey, it won’t be good for the baby.”

Your glare causes him to retract in his seat, “Oh! So when it’s convenient for you, you’ll use the baby.”

“No that’s not what I meant.”

You begin to spew more words that dagger into his heart, he’s finally concluded that he can’t do anything to cease your anger at him and as he trudges behind you into the shared home, he can already feel the loneliness of the spare bedroom he’ll be sleeping in tonight. As he turns to head straight for the room, you groan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You stand at the doorframe of the main bedroom. Your voice suddenly changes, “Sleep with me.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kita x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo scenarios #bokuto scenarios #iwaizumi scenarios #oikawa scenarios

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

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“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,” Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand. Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!” Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.” Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

351 notes · View notes

theseerasures · 3 years

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While you're doing reactions, if you're up for it, how are you feeling about all the finale predictions you made on March 23? By my count, you scored pretty well!

hooooooo boy (the alluded post, for those just catching up)

how i feel about my predictions is that...you’re right and i scored pretty well, but much like the characters doing right in the episode itself, it didn’t matter. part of the reason why the finale made me feel so much--why i loved it, despite still being emotionally hungover from ugly affect--is because i WAS right, but i was so often right but wrong on a smaller scale, or right but wrong because i completely misunderstood the overall thematic stakes, or in one case right but in such a phenomenally cruel and roundabout way that i’m still reeling from it.

more detailed breakdown under the cut (as in “let’s unpack this,” and as in “i have an emotional breakdown”):

WHERE I WAS MOSTLY RIGHT

Team Green, Yang, the non-Robyn Happy Huntresses, Klein and the non-combatant Schnees were gimmes from the beginning, even the ones of whom we didn’t have visual confirmation by the end of Worthy.

Pietro and Maria are still MIA so i’m putting them here, but...Winter’s gonna have to tell Pietro, when he shows up again.

Cinder and the Relics i was correct about, but even though i knew going in that she would win i didn’t imagine the scale of her victory. mostly because i thought she might have learned some self-discipline and just skedaddled with the Relics in an attempt to trap as many people as possible in superhell, but a) she didn’t, and b) she won without needing to.

Salem, Watts, and Ironwood are where i predicted, but i think part of me really bought into the fan theory that maybe Salem would want to keep Atlas around. both Watts and Ironwood lasted much longer through the episode than i expected because i was working from that assumption, but with the direction the episode actually took it makes perfect sense that they exited the stage as Atlas fell--they are, after all, twin architect-destroyers of Atlas. brains and brawn.

Nora ended up in Vacuo, but she’s...uh, not happy about it. not that i expected her to be happy, but this is much much worse. og JNPR is now JUST Renora, and much as i love freewheeling modular megazord JNPR, that’s gonna hit like a truck. last time they lost someone Renora were consciously trying to play supportive teammate to Jaune, who’d just lost his partner, and Nora especially also had to talk Ren off the edge with the Kuroyuri stuff. i expect they’ll swap the dynamic this time, especially since Nora was already planning to go all independent woman before this.

Qrow, Robyn, and the AceOps are stranded, but in transit and not in Mantle, because Mantle the place is no more. and Vine is dead. the reason i posited that the AceOps might be split up was so they could find their team dynamic after it’s been unsettled, and...well. having one of them do a heroic sacrifice should do a similar trick. because i didn’t think Atlas would fall on Mantle i thought Qrow and Robyn (particularly Robyn) would get more to do, but both of them are pretty much exactly in the same place they were in at the beginning of the season: trapped in a cramped environment, cut off from the people they love and uncertain what happened to them, and unable to contribute in a way that they would consider meaningful. i’m guessing we won’t check back in with this crew for a while, but if we do it’ll be interesting to see if the Qrow and Robyn dynamic changes--like, if he has to be the one to talk her down from cabin fever and despair. (before he finds out that he was the one who should have been despairing all along.)

WHERE I WAS MOSTLY WRONG

Neo is in superhell. i had put her in Atlas because i’d overestimated Cinder’s ability to play the long game, but what the show ultimately doubled down on was that Cinder remains at heart a petty and impatient opportunist, and that’s where she’s most effective. which i dig! i dig that she has not so much improved (in means or ends) so much as learned to hold the beneficial and detrimental parts of herself farther and farther apart, because in the end they’re all the same parts, and because presumably she’ll end up starfishing out so much (who knew the way she took care of Winter’s death pigeons was foreshadowing?) that she breaks in two. and i dig Neo in superhell without Cinder, because it’ll be our first chance to see Neo not working for anyone outside of that one time she fought Cinder. if superhell does end up being part afterlife, she might also get some closure with the Torchwick stuff.

Jaune being in superhell points to it being part afterlife, because the chance for HIM to get some closure is also right there. that was always the case, but the reason i made the prediction i did was because i assumed that Jaune would remain the person he has been this whole season--this stolid, clueless but incredibly effective supporting leader. having a Jaune who is at the top of his game meet up with Pyrrha again is obviously appealing, especially to me, a person who scribbles misshapen hearts labeled “Arkos = 5evr” on all my notebooks, but at the time i didn’t think it was necessary to his story...and then the story dramatically shifted his character and threw all my carefully hedged bets off (which is something we’ll also get to with...later).

having a Jaune who has just effectively EUTHANIZED someone meet up with Pyrrha again isn’t just appealing--it’s vital. and it’s vital because the exact parameters of how and why Jaune ended up having to kill Penny is a point-for-point echo and escalation of the way the Amber to Pyrrha transfer was supposed to go. last time Jaune Arc was party to a Maiden transfer process he had no idea what was going on, and he tried to intervene when he worked out that whatever Oz was doing was going to hurt Pyrrha, and that however minute thing contributed to Pyrrha’s death and the Fall of Beacon. this time it’s not just that he knows what’s going on and the stakes of it. it’s not even just that he is the Ozpin operating the Aura Transfer machine. it is that there is no machine--there is just him, holding the knife. he knows the Amber better than the Pyrrha this time, and this time the Amber is his friend, and still whole, and choosing. not just consenting, but asking him. trusting him. so he carries it out. the old Maiden dies, and like Ozpin he dies shortly after, but not before he watches the new Maiden fail.

but he does prevent history from repeating, because a new Maiden is created, and she gets to live. and Cinder Fall has made him a murderer on top of everything else, but she WILL remember him, now.

there are other people i was wrong about, but that’s...for later.

WHERE I WAS RIGHT AND IT DIDN’T MATTER

Ruby, Blake and Weiss are all in superhell, so on paper i was right, but...well. sing it if you know the words. the reason i’m putting them in their own section is because it’s not just that they fell and didn’t jump like i thought; it’s that they would not have jumped, and that changes everything. you know how i realized that we would lose everyone, and not by choice? it was Weiss. it was when Weiss said we have to do this for Yang. Jaune had reminded Nora of what was priority one minutes before, but the implications of that didn’t sink in for me until Weiss confirmed it. they PLANNED for this. not just the eventuality where they would have to die, but the one where they’d have to watch everyone else die and do nothing except keep going.

which...has implications. the best way to read this--and i think we’re all dying for some good news--is that even if it certainly does not feel that way, RWBY was able to snatch a partial victory from Salem’s claws. they lost the Relics, but they got the Maiden powers away, and most importantly: they saved Atlas and Mantle. by the time Jaune intervened Grand Central was empty. there was no one left to evacuate. they didn’t get everyone, but they got a lot. even before Cinder intervened so catastrophically they knew how many things could go wrong, so they made a plan, and largely stuck to it. on a purely material level they only lost one thing vital to the war effort--the Staff. but they got everyone else out, which was priority one. the show in general and this arc in particular has emphasized that our heroes don’t think they should be exceptionalized, that they’ll fight tooth and nail to make sure everyone is given the treatment and respect they deserve, and they’ve made good on that. they’re Huntresses, and Huntresses be thou for the people. they chose, and they won what mattered to THEM.

but on the flip side: they chose, and there’s no way to read this choice as anything but a compromise...and a very Atlesian one at that. when confronted with calculus similar to the one JYR faced after they lost Oscar in War, our heroes chose...the opposite. one, then three, then four, then five, then six for the many. what was that number compared to two entire cities’ worth of people, especially when they’re the ones who signed up for this? i’m not trying to take this down the slippery slope where our heroes are no better than the dictator they just dethroned, because when the time came for sacrifice they chose themselves first. but it remains a sacrifice, which means that when the time came to test the hard moral limit they set for themselves, they...moved. they decided ahead of time that some risks aren’t worth taking. that this is not a situation where everyone wins, so they had to go for the next best thing, then the next best thing after that, and so on. i’m honestly not sure where it points to yet, except my usual refrain that this show is a lot less didactic than it seems, but...yeah. this is going to lead to some invigorating discussions in-universe.

and maybe it’ll start with this: that Jaune and Weiss--the two who had to verbally advocate for leaving the fallen behind--fell last of all, which means they had to watch everyone else go first. and the last person they saw was the same person. Weiss, who executed the plan to brilliant perfection, saw the past--the first family she ever had--streaking after her in an endless void, forsaking the priorities they all agreed upon, for her. Jaune, who followed the plan to execution and broke a part of himself, saw the new Maiden he crowned, backlit and pulled away by the bright future that he ensured was possible, but can no longer access.

QUEENMAKER

i’m starting with Penny, because Penny came first. there has already been a ton of discussion on the ways that she’ll come back, and while i absolutely agree that she will, for now i am not so much interested in that as i am in eulogizing this Penny. the Penny we had just now, not identical but continuous with the Penny we had before that, in the same way that everyone is not identical but continuous with who they were in the past. the Penny who IS dead, her eventual resurrection notwithstanding.

because she DID die, and her death matters. that’s the thing about the deaths in this season, and it furthers my point re: RWBY’s presumed didacticism--the show’s treatment of death has changed as our heroes have changed. it is no longer (and never was) as simple as “death and sacrifice are always senseless waste,” and more something like...”death has to matter, and we will give it meaning.” Hazel and Vine sacrificed themselves, and the fact both resulted in a “positive” outcome (more lives saved) does not make the deaths any less tragic. but neither should the tragedy of it take away from the fact that they saved lives. what separates our heroes from a Salem or a James Ironwood even now is that they recognize the importance of grievable life even as they accept inevitable death, that what is worth it all about preserving life is not to make sure that lives go on forever, but that lives have meaning and are remembered, that when you’re gone the people who are still here respect you enough to carry that meaning with them. it’s a tenuous balance to walk, but all the more important for that reason.

Penny--though her death can and will be reversed--is much the same. in every arc there has been a Game of Three Maidens (which i guess would make shogi the better metaphor and not chess because--what AM i on about), and in every Game there has been sacrifice. and i thought that would encompass Winter, here. we’d get away with it not being literal death, since Fria already took care of that, but she would be trapped on the other side of the gate--in pretty much the exact same position James Ironwood ended up in the episode itself, actually. it just seemed obvious: she’s the decoy, the one who missed the call by inches, the last revealed defector when there still was an Atlas from which to defect. all of it pointed to Winter’s story ending with one last delay barring her from salvation, of her finally being too late...

and well. i WASN’T wrong in the broad strokes, but first there was Penny Polendina. Penny could have let Jaune try to save her and Weiss die for her, but she knew she had to make a different choice to save as many lives as possible. so she offered herself up as the sacrifice instead. last week i waxed prolonged poetic about how Winter defected so recently, how it has been just IronwoodandWinter for so long, how Winter doesn’t have a team and only the healing shreds of a family, how no one would think to look for her...and then Penny did. you were my friend. (given Winter’s rough age and the hazy creation dates for the PENNY Project, it’s possible that Winter is Penny’s OLDEST friend.) Penny thought of Winter as she was dying, thought about the good Winter could do if Winter had her powers, believed in Winter, and in doing so, saved Winter’s life before anyone else’s.

she ceded the spotlight to Winter in this last episode, but this season as a whole belongs to Penny Polendina--the myriad ways she creates herself, the ways she defends her self-creation, ultimately culminating in her new body, created by no one but herself. but for her final act the Maiden of Creation did something different and no less miraculous: i thought of you. a thought was all it took.

she created someone else.

KINGSLAYER | THE MAIDEN THAT WAS PROMISED

the thing about Winter is that she came first.

no, i’m serious. i checked the fairy tale and everything--Winter came first. as the Wizard’s first visitor she encouraged him to reflect and meditate, and when probed about why she was here at all, she answered: i am waiting for my sisters. Spring and Summer have to wait, too, of course, but. Winter was the first.

Jacques and Willow named their firstborn Winter. it is not the way this story begins, but it is certainly is one of them, because the story begins with Winter, and Winter begins the story--a new retelling, a new cycle of heroism. we’ve since been introduced to other characters in that indeterminate age group between RWBY and STRQ, but Winter--by virtue of being Weiss’ older sister--anchors herself to the new generation in a way those others (even Cinder, who comes closest) do not. she started things, in the mythical emblematic way that this show likes to move, and the way she started things--the way she MADE herself start things, thanks to the house she grew up in--was with love, and protection. she took care of Weiss and laid the groundwork for the person Weiss is today, and conversely: she took care of Weiss, and through Weiss, laid the groundwork for herself and how to take care of everyone. so eventually the steel thread she tied to Weiss she also linked to Whitley, to Penny, to Marrow, to all the people they love, and on and on it goes. Winter loved Weiss, so she made herself learn how to love Weiss, and so when i say she started things what i mean is she started family. a new home, for a new generation of the orphaned.

Winter came first. but as the show demonstrates time and again, especially with Winter: first does not mean best. because being first also means you’re the prototype, a volatile thing that must be tested and tempered and then discarded to make way for what comes after, what gets improved. and it is THIS part of being first that Winter has internalized most of all. Winter, the first Maiden, taught the Wizard peace and prepared the earth so that her sisters could grow and foster and harvest the life within it; Winter, the first Schnee, laid the groundwork in her siblings, but did not wait for them. and let herself fallow in the process. she left, and every time they tried to follow or stay with her she sent them away. (she keeps sending them away; even after defecting and taking down Ironwood, the first thing she says to JNPER is go.) Winter laid the first stone in the foundation, but she cannot take credit for the home her family turned it into, for all the ways it has flourished, because she willfully absented herself of that (birth)right.

and the reason she did this was very simple: she was afraid. she could not bear the thought that while she had to learn how to love she made mistakes, the idea that instead of preparing the earth she might have poisoned the well. so she ran. she turned her face away so she would not have to look, so they would not look to her. she left, and every time one of her siblings superseded her after that, every time she was made to be their Esau--passed over--it just seemed to confirm that she was right to leave. look how well they’ve all done without her.

in the stories, eldest siblings aren’t here to win. they’re here to be made an example of, and Winter...had resigned herself to that. she was prepared to be left behind for good by all the people who have outpaced her.

but then there was Penny Polendina. Penny didn’t follow her, or try to stay; Penny came back for her. Penny remembered Winter when all Winter wanted was to be forgotten, because she’d gotten it in her head that it was what she deserved for all the things she’d done or enabled or failed to do. why did Penny remember Winter? because you were my friend. there is no divine complexity to it, nothing for Winter to fall hopeless short of. there is only the fact that Winter gave Penny something, made something together with Penny, even as she was trying her hardest not to, for fear that she would create something terrible. and this does not take away from all the ways Winter did fall short, but it is still SOMETHING. and it is enough.

it was your power, after all. Penny means the Maiden powers, but she also means THIS Maiden’s power: the power to create. you made this home, Penny is saying to Winter, you should get to reap its fruit, even if you weren’t around for the labor. all you have to do is say yes.

this was a gift. she says yes. she accepts, because in the end Winter Schnee loves her family more than she hates herself.

but then--

(a gift for what? Winter will ask herself wretchedly later, after she has failed in the two tasks she thinks Penny set for her.)

the thing about Winter is that she came first. she taught Weiss everything she knows, and she was so busy doing that she never had the time to show Weiss everything she feels. so in the end what Weiss never predicted was that for all of her team’s painful planning, for all of her own pained enforcement of that plan...none of it was a match for her sister. that when the time came it was would be WINTER who defaults to the absolute ideal of “no one gets left behind,” of “every life” meaning every life, priority one be damned.

or that Winter, in trying to choose both, in finally and fiercely trying, with surely enough power to make a difference, would fail.

what are you doing? Winter heard as she watched Weiss fall into nothingness. my life doesn’t matter.

so here, then, is the story of Winter in The Final Word: a girl returns home after having left it, but in this version it is the home who has changed and the girl who has not. and from this both are unmade. but she gets to live, because she was invited back home. and she gets to go through the portal as its last passenger, into the Promised Land.

and she is still the Maiden of Creation. even after all this, THAT is still her task. to build a refuge for her people, to collect the broken strands of the family she began and her siblings continued and expanded and reinforced, and gather them up again into a new home. it will be impossible, but at the same time: she has done this before.

and this time, she will wait for her sisters.

(a gift for what? for nothing, would be the answer. gifts aren’t FOR anything. they’re gifts.)

#typeoneninja #rwby #helen writes meta #VERY LONG OBSCENELY LONG META CANNOT EMPHASIZE HOW LONG #at least it didn't take me a whole month this time

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

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Villainsicle | Part 13

I know it’s been a while, and if I’m being completely honest, I really ran out of steam on this story for a while. But, we’re back! If you’re new to my blog and are interested in this story, all of the parts up to this one can be found linked in my pinned info post.

Thank you guys so much for all your support of this series so far! I hope you enjoy this part, too!

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby

@the-polari-person

@teachunks

@daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker-blog

@regalwritten

CW//Mentions of bathing, restraints, drugs, dehumanization, conspiracies, collars, talk of diseases, talk of falling, Stockholm syndrome, affectionate caretaker, conditioned whumpee

After their bath, Villain rested.

It wasn’t exactly how Counselor had imagined the whole affair going. Villain had already spent so many days resting, laid up in that same bed, but once they were clean and settled into fresh clothes, they had requested nothing except to be able to return to sleep.

They supposed it wasn’t entirely unexpected. While the bath hadn’t exactly been physically exerting, there had been several instances during it that Villain had nearly burst out in tears. Whatever was going through their mind, it was undeniably intense-- and that wasn’t even mentioning the heavy dose of sedatives coursing through their system.

And, thus, Villain slept. They were unconscious almost immediately upon hitting the mattress.

This time, however, there was no nervous twitching to accompany their unconsciousness. Instead, for the first time, their face showed a perfectly placid expression.

Taking care not to wake the sleeping patient, Counselor draped a fleece blanket overtop of them, tucking its edges in around their shoulders. They twitched, but did not awake. A moment later, they buried their face in the fabric.

Counselor had never before imagined that Villain was even capable of existing in such a calm state. Yet, here they were, looking for all the world as though not even an earthquake could wake them up.

Their gaze flicked to the bedrails. Upon returning to their bed, Villain had not so much as seemed to note the leather-and-foam restraints hanging there.

Yet, Counselor could not draw their gaze away from them.

Villain had been staying in the base for weeks, phasing through various states of aggression and fear and sickness and, on rare occasions, hesitant happiness. But, even after all that time, no one truly knew anything about them.

At least, Counselor knew nothing about them. Based on the way Leader and Medic’s expressions twisted when the prisoner was mentioned, it was clear that the both of them knew more than they were letting on-- but neither was keen to admit as to such.

Maybe Hero had had more luck on this information gathering mission.

But how much information was there really to gather? Officially, Villain had simply appeared on stage a few months ago, alongside two unknowns. More or less, they had acted just as any other villain did.

The other villains, however, had motives. Backstories. They were following orders.

Villain... If anyone on the outside cared about them, they had yet to risk any sort of jailbreak.

There was more to this than the official story, Counselor knew that full well. How much more... as to that, they had no idea.

But they had no need to rely on second hand accounts and official reports to know what Villain was. That much was obvious. They were a villain. Whatever their backstory, whatever their past, they were dangerous.

Right?

Counselor’s gaze drifted back to those restraints. Those simple straps, dangling from a metal bedframe.

At some point, Villain may have been dangerous. But not right now. Right now, they needed help, and that was exactly what Counselor was going to give them.

And, if they wanted that plan to go anywhere, they would have to start with the doctor who harmed their own patient.

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This time, when Medic answered the knocking on their door, their glasses were on the right way around. They blinked a few times, rubbing their eyes, hardly noting as the piping hot cup of coffee was pushed into their hands.

The doctor glanced down at the beverage before looking back up to meet their visitor’s gaze.

“I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“Well, that was before. For now, we need to talk.”

“If this is decaf again, I swear I’m going to strangle you.”

“It’s not. Though the same threat applies to you if you try to go back to the med bay.”

“I’m a doctor. In fact, I’m our only doctor.”

“I’m a doctor, too.”

“Psychology doesn’t count.”

“Fair enough.”

“If we’re done threatening each other, then, would you care to, I don’t know, tell me why you’re bothering me?”

“As I said, we need to talk.”

“Do I even need to ask what about?”

“I think you already know that. Come on. You have your coffee, so there’s no excuses.”

“You really think I’m going to be that penitent about this?”

“Maybe.”

Medic rolled their eyes, but did not protest any further as Counselor turned and walked off. The two moved to a rather isolated table, tucked away in the corner of a hallway. The cafeteria was far too crowded at the moment to host such a discussion.

On opposite sides of the table, the opposites sat. Two cups of coffee clinked down on the wooden surface.

Counselor took a sip of their drink, placing the cup back down and raising their gaze. Medic frowned, lips turning downwards even further than usual.

“What, are we planning on talking through telepathy or- Come on, Counselor, stop looking at me like that. I hate that.”

“Then are you going to say anything?”

“I can’t read your mind.”

“You said you knew what this was about.”

“Maybe.” Medic shrugged dismissively. The doctor had been horribly standoffish, ever since Villain had been captured. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to start trying to guess your thoughts.”

Counselor took another sip.

“Fine, then. I can start.” Sip. Clink. “Villain told me something very interesting, earlier.”

“You really believe them?”

“I haven’t even said it yet.”

“Then stop wasting time, maybe.”

“Villain says that you’re making them sick.”

Medic’s brows furrowed.

“That’s what they said?”

“Pretty much verbatim, yes.”

“Well.” Medic took a hesitant drink of their coffee. “I don’t know why you’re even wasting your time on a notion like that. What they are is paranoid. I don’t doubt that they think I’m making them sick. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“You’re saying that your patient is lying.”

“Maybe not lying. That would imply that they know what they’re saying is not true. They are sick, I will not deny that. And they are not responding to treatment. I can’t say that anything I’ve tried so far has made it any better, but it certainly hasn’t made it worse.”

“Why would they believe such a thing without reason?”

Medic exhaled.

“Because, in Villain’s mind, they do have reason. They have a child’s understanding of medicine. They are sick, and they are under my care and taking my medicines, and thus, in their mind, one of these things has caused the other.”

Counselor cast their gaze downwards, focusing on the way their milk danced its way through the black beverage before them. It was a reasonable explanation. Maybe. They may not have trusted Medic, but they trusted Medic’s abilities as a doctor.

Could Villain really be wrong?

“If they’re wrong...” Counselor began again. “Then what is making them sick? Their incident with hypothermia was weeks ago, now. It can’t still be that?”

“I doubt the two are connected. If this was all a matter of post-hypothermic reactions, then we wouldn’t be seeing these kinds of symptoms.”

“What is it, then?”

Medic bit their bottom lip.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? They’ve been in your care for... well over a week, now.”

“You think I don’t know that? If you haven’t noticed, I’m the world’s leading expert on Enhanced biology. Not to mention, y’know, an experienced doctor for normal humans. Whatever this is, it’s not a normal sickness. I’ve done every test I can think of.”

“And... it’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Not as badly as you might be fearing. Their weakness is worsening, yes, as is their general mental state. But their vitals are fine. They’re not in serious danger of anything, so long as they don’t hurt themself.”

“You think they’d do that?”

“Given just how bad their confusion has been getting? I’m already putting preventative measures in place.”

“Oh.”

Medic raised a brow.

“You thought I restrained them for no reason? I’m not Leader. There are medical regulations about this sort of thing.”

“They’ve been hurting themself?”

“Not what you may be thinking of. But with how bad their weakness has grown, they can’t exactly stand up without aid, at the current moment. Forget walking. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have realized this.”

“They’ve fallen?”

“A few times, yes. If that is all, I was really just starting to enjoy my day off, so-”

“Wait.” Counselor shook their head. “People don’t get sick for no reason.”

“Congrats, you know a basic medical fact.”

“You know what I mean. You’re the smartest person I know. You must have, I don’t know, a theory? A hypothesis? Anything?”

Medic blinked, placing down their cup.

“I do. Though right now, I have no way of proving it.”

“What is it?”

“Villain has what we call... psionic powers. Powers that affect only a person’s brain, but not their physical body. It’s the rarest type of power, oftentimes because something you can’t see is often something you can’t detect. Thus, this group of powers is poorly understood, to say the least. But I’m sure you know what power fatigue looks like for other Enhanced.”

“Like when Hero broke their leg?” Counselor guessed.

“Yes. The simple act of overexerting ones powers, even without outside injury, can cause physical injuries like that to develop.”

“You think Villain’s having power fatigue?”

“It’s my best guess. It would check all the boxes. An undetectable illness affecting the brain, but nothing else. A never before seen condition.”

“But... is it something you can cure?”

“I can’t cure tiredness.” Medic shook their head. “That’s really not how it works. I can do my best to counteract the symptoms, but so long as the source is still there, I’d be fighting uphill.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I can remove the source.” The tiniest smirk crept onto the doctor’s countenance. “Power fatigue is caused not by using ones powers, but using them in a way that the body cannot handle. At least, as far as we can tell. If Villain can control their powers enough, their symptoms should go away.”

“You really think so?”

“I hesitate to guarantee anything. Not with how poorly understood the condition is.” That smirk fell, replaced by Medic’s resting expression of annoyance. “But training them to use their powers properly is the only way I can see them getting any better.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m also sure that I would really like to go back to my quarters. If you’re done bothering me?”

Counselor bit their tongue.

“Fine.”

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Counselor had momentarily considered returning to their own quarters, but had quickly decided against it, instead turning to the kitchen. They had yet to eat that morning, as had Villain. They figured that a warm meal might help them shake off the sedatives.

And, maybe, some food would make Counselor’s own stomach stop twisting.

They only made it halfway to the kitchen, however, when in the hallway, they nearly slammed into Hero. The two both yelped, and a slosh of Counselor’s coffee slopped to the floor.

“Shit, sorry, are you okay?” Hero asked. There was considerable nerve in their voice.

Counselor nodded. “You just started me, ‘s all.” They glanced down at the spilling coffee now sitting on the tile floor. “I’ll, uh, get that later. I was just heading to the kitchen.”

“Oh. Um, could it wait?”

“I need to bring Villain something to eat.”

“Can it wait?”

“What-”

Counselor’s gaze drifted to Hero’s twitching hand.

“You have something?”

“Mhm. I don’t think it’s going to take very long.”

“Can I see?”

“Not here. Not with everyone else around.”

Counselor raised their brows quizzically, but nodded.

“To your quarters, then?”

“I guess that’s as good of a place as any.”

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As soon as Counselor was out of sight, Medic changed their trajectory.

The musty air that filled their lab acted on them like a drug, sending a calm shiver down their spine. If they had the day off (or if they were being forced to take it off), there was no way they were going to spend that precious little free time moping in their quarters. Not when they could be here.

They sat, the memory foam of their desk chair still molded to their form. The laptop before them booted up with a familiar chirp and bright pink screensaver, written upon in white text:

“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.”

The grainy selection of videos blinked before them, and they selected the next one in the series. Even if they didn’t have access to their Asset at the current moment, they could at the very least work ahead.

The screen fizzled to life in all its low-definition glory, displaying a familiar room, its walls plastered with protective black rubber, and its tile floor made of the same material.

The presenter wore a bandage on their face, covering the side of their jaw. The gauze warped as they smiled, but they seemed to make no note of it.

Beside them, the presenter’s own Asset stood. The muzzle around their face had been modified, its metal warped as to compress its wearer’s jaw, to the point that even breathing was an impossibility.

Extreme, perhaps, but based on the Asset’s behavior, it was warranted.

Though their movements were weak and unbalanced, they were persistent, not ceasing yanking against their leash for the slightest moment. This time, unlike before, the presenter seemed to be paying attention to them, though they did not seem worried.

“It has been some time since we last spoke.” They began. “I apologize for the delay, but, hopefully, it will not happen again. After all, training our Assets is a full time job.”

A smile. Cheerful, stretching their cheeks.

“Unfortunately, I must report that the recent delay we experienced was as a result of my own Asset lashing out. This was unfortunate, but it made me realize that there is a flaw in my training methods. A flaw I seek to instruct you, today, on how to remedy.

One advantage we trainers have is that we have 24/7 access to our Assets. As we take care of them, we can choose to meet their needs in whatever way we see fit.

Deprivation has always been a part of Asset training, since we pioneered our methods. But it was something I, unfortunately and unwisely, neglected. And I have done you all a disservice by not mentioning it to you.

In order for training to truly take effect, there must be room in an Asset’s mind for it to fit. A reason for them to follow. Fear, certainly, is this reason, but there are other aspects to control.

Following my Asset’s incident, we have been working using these methods of deprivation. Depriving your Asset of things such as nutrients, water, and sleep can significantly speed up and solidify your training. In this lesson, we will go over this, and how it can help you improve your training methods.”

The presenter’s smile was matched by their Asset’s wicked snarl. From the corners of their mouth, licks of flame emerged, just for the slightest moment.

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Hero handled the flash drive as though it were a bomb.

Perhaps it was, if the writing on the device was at all to be believed. Scrawled on in sharpie, a hastily written yet well received warning.

“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.”

As if Organization cared about the law.

Hero seated themself in their office chair, leaving Counselor to sit a few feet back, on their bed. They almost flinched, plugging the flashdrive into their laptop.

For a moment, the computer hummed, before it reported chipperly that new files had been added.

“Uh, Hero?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get this thing?”

“Leader gave it to me.”

“Did they say what it was.”

Hero shook their head. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

Still moving terribly nervously, Hero opened the folder that the computer had created for these ‘new files.’

“It’s... videos.”

“Videos?”

“A couple of them, yeah.”

“Should we... play them?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. I mean, if Organization is involved, I’m not sure I want to know what’s on them.”

“It could help Villain.”

Hero sighed, dipping their head.

“I hate when you’re right.”

With deft fingers, they selected the first video.

It had been so long, since any of them had seen Traitor. More than that, it had been so long since any of them had seen Traitor smile.

And yet, that was what they were doing. Grinning, ear to ear, eyes locked upon the camera.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the second edition of the Asset Training Video Course. If you are confused, the first edition of this series was, unfortunately, cut short due to... an incident. We will all miss our last presenter, but that does not mean that our duties can be shirked.”

Traitor turned, looking offscreen, calling:

“Veni huc.”

The language the words were in was clearly not English, but the person who moved on-screen did not seem concerned by that fact.

Villain smiled as well, though their warm gaze had an inquisitive quality to it as they regarded the camera. A chain-link collar was arranged about their neck, but it was attached to nothing, and seemed to more or less hang limply.

“For this series, I will be demonstrating all you need to know about Asset training. This, here, is my own Asset, Cadet. As you can tell, they are very well trained, if I do say so myself. They will be helping me show you how to train your own assigned Asset.”

Traitor’s hand reached for Villain, who did not flinch a moment. Their hand ruffled Villain’s hair affectionately.

Villain smiled, and leaned into the touch.

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #villainsicle #powered whumpee #conditioned whumpee

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lunar-wandering · 3 years

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i don’t wanna fight alone anymore - Chapter 4

*(show host voice)* everybody welcome to the stage- Macaque!!!

Word Count: 1.8k

Read on Ao3

"What are you doing here?" Wukong hissed, struggling to push Macaque off of him.

"Well now, Wukong, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Macaque asked, a teasing lilt to his voice, and Wukong outright growled, grabbing hold of Macaque's arms and rolling over, pinning him to the ground. Macaque looked up at Wukong, a hint of fear flickering across his face for the briefest of moments, before it was once again replaced with the same old smug look.

"Ha! Nice scar." He laughed, and Wukong let go of one of Macaque's arms in order to use his hand to cover the notch on his eyebrow. "Oh, not to mention the scarf. Copying me huh? What, do you appreciate my style, or are you still jealous from when MK came to me for training, instead of you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Wukong hissed, glancing nervously over at the others, who still hadn't moved, mainly out of not being entirely sure what was happening. Macaque used the momentary distraction to flip their positions once again, putting himself on top of Wukong.

"Heh, either way, that's karma for you." He said, grin still evident on his face, and Wukong, seeing no other option, reached up and raked his claws against Macaque's cheek, drawing a small amount of blood. Macaque yelped, leaning back as he instinctively covered the wound, and Wukong sat up, immediately following up be headbutting the other monkey.

The headbutt, of course, ended up being a mistake, as both monkey's reared back, covering their foreheads as pain washed over them. (Wukong could help but feel that there's been something....off, something cold when they'd bumped heads but-)

"Enough." Pigsy said, suddenly standing beside them, holding a wooden spoon in between the two in order to separate them. "Wukong, what is going on?"

"Ask him." Wukong growled, still rubbing his aching forehead, "He's the one who suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled me."

"Yeah, I'm not going to apologize for that." Macaque said, crossing his arms. MK mentally noted that the shadow monkey had, thus far, made no attempt at standing up.

"Didn't expect you to, you bitch." Wukong said, accepting Mei's offered hand as she helped him stand back up. "Seriously, why are you here?"

"What, can't I drop in to check on my favorite student every now and again?" Macaque said, not so subtly gesturing at MK, who sighed.

"I keep telling you, I'm not your student." He said, sounding tired with this whole thing already. Macaque just smirked. In response, Mei kicked him in the leg, and Macaque yelped, bending over as he cradled his leg closer to himself, his fur bristling as he clenched his teeth.

"....I didn't even kick you that hard." Mei said, looking Macaque over again. There were no visible injuries, other than the scratch Wukong had left on his cheek, but she had encountered many a demon, she knew that just because she didn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there.

"Is that it?" Wukong asked, crossing his arms as he looked at Macaque in disapproval. "You got injured, so you came crawling to us?"

"No. I'm fine." Macaque hissed out, rather unconvincingly, considering he still hadn't come out of his curled up position. Pigsy sighed, sensing this would be a long day.

"Wukong, go get the first aid kit." He said, and Wukong, despite huffing in irritation, complied, turning around to go find it. "Sandy- just. Restrain him for now."

Sandy pulled out some rope, and started wrapping it around Macaque's waist, restraining him by tying the other end of the rope to the ship. He didn't wrap it around Macaque's arms, worried about potentially brushing against some unseen injury. Macaque, surprisingly, laughed in response to this treatment.

"What am I, some damsel in distress?" He asked, "You going to tie me to some train tracks next?"

"Don't tempt me." Wukong hissed, rolling his eyes as he came back, passing the first aid kit over to MK, who handed it over to Tang, who, despite Macaque's protests, started applying a bandage onto the scratch on the monkey's cheek.

"I can't treat the rest of your injuries if you won't let us see them." Tang said, after he finished treating the scratch.

"I told you already, I'm not injured. Besides, I don't remember asking for your help." Macaque said, looking away from Tang's face. Wukong, a smirk on his face, snuck up beside Macaque, before lightly poking the leg Mei had kicked. Macaque yelped again, pulling his leg away, an expression of pain flickering across his face. Wukong lightly giggled, then hissed as Pigsy hit him in the back of the head with the spoon.

"Wukong, why would you do that??" Pigsy asked, disapproval in his voice. Wukong couldn't help but feel a bit like a child being chided for doing something wrong.

"...He was being kind of stuck up?" He offered as a response, chuckling nervously when Pigsy's disapproving look only increased in intensity.

"Either way, he is injured." Tang said, "So, Macaque, are you going to let me treat your injuries or not?"

Macaque didn't answer for a few moments, before he reluctantly sighed, a look of concentration appearing on his face-

And then, just like that, a series of injuries appeared on his body. A long gash down his arm that looked only partially healed, a newer cut down his leg (and Mei winced, knowing she had made that injury worse), as well as his fur looking, overall, like a mess. Wukong sucked in a breath.

"What happened to you?" He asked. Macaque rolled his eyes.

"Like you'd care." He mumbled, looking down at the floor as Tang carefully tended to his injuries. MK subtly tugged on the edge of Wukong's scarf.

"Monkey King?" He asked, quietly. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure, kid." Wukong said, letting MK lead him to the other side of the ship. He knew Macaque would probably still be able to hear them anyways, but the other monkey was distracted with Tang, so they should be okay for now. "What's up?"

"It's just....you- you don't think that she did that to him, do you?" MK asked, glancing over at Macaque, at Macaque's injuries.

"No way to know for sure." Wukong said, "He isn't the best at making friends. Could've been anyone."

Suddenly, the look in MK's eyes changed.

"You'd know all about how Macaque makes friends then?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Y'know, while you were on vacation, I ran into Macaque again."

"You what? Why didn't you tell me?" Wukong asked, concern in his voice. MK brushed it off.

"You were busy, remember? Anyways, Macaque said something....interesting." MK said, "He said you two used to be friends. Like, he straight up compared the both of you to the sun and moon."

"He was always over-dramatic like that-"

"And. He said you abandoned him." MK said, "That you forgot about him."

Wukong sighed.

"Is that still how he sees it?" He said, rubbing his arm. "It's- look it was complicated, okay? I, well to put thing's simply, time in heaven works... differently than time on earth, and then the whole 'Havoc in Heaven' thing happened- and just. I never really got the chance-"

"But you were friends?" MK asked, "He can't have been all that bad back then."

"Well- no. He wasn't." Wukong admitted, "...If this is some attempt of yours to get me to trust him, you're not going to succeed kiddo. Not that I'm sure why you'd do that-"

"That's not what I'm- okay, so it's a little bit like that." MK confessed, laughing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just, he's injured, so we can't just let him leave. We should let him stay with us for a bit-"

"MK-"

"It'd be wrong to just let him leave, wouldn't it?" MK insisted, grabbing hold of Wukong's hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "C'mon, Monkey King, at least this way we can keep an eye on him!"

"....I can't argue with you on that, I guess." Wukong sighed, "Fine. But don't blame me when he ends up betraying us in the end."

"We'll pay very close attention to him." MK insisted, "He can't betray us if we know it's coming!"

He was going to betray them.

He was going to turn against them.

He would earn their fragile trust, and then shatter it like glass.

He would not let himself get attached.

Macaque kept this mental mantra to himself going as Mei quietly showed him to the room he'd be staying in. They had reluctantly untied him, letting him walk by himself so long as he had someone with him. They would allow him the privacy of his room, but that was it.

Macaque walked into the rather small, empty space, the only thing in there being a bed with plain sheets and a door to what he presumed to be a bathroom. He sighed as he heard Mei close the door behind him, before she turned and walked away, down the hall. He waited until her footsteps faded, and he was sure nobody would open the door unexpectedly.

Macaque went into the bathroom (it was just as small and plain as the bedroom), and let his glamor drop all the way.

They'd trusted him with this room. And that was a problem.

The kid and the others had trusted him, albeit by not much, but they were still going to let him stay.

Wukong, at least, clearly still distrusted him, if the glares he'd noticed were any indication.

Macaque sighed again as he looked in the mirror, trying to mentally prepare himself to play the long con.

He was going to betray them.

He was going to turn against them.

He would earn their fragile trust, and then shatter it like glass.

He would not let himself get attached.

Despite this, Macaque knew himself.

He knew he was going to get attached.

It would be inevitable really, that kid, MK, seemed to drag everyone into his little golden family sooner or later. He was sure that Wukong probably would've outright thrown him off the ship if it wasn't for the kid.

Macaque knew how easy it would be for the kid to drag him in, make him feel like a part of the group. He would resist it, but it would happen.

He tried to brace himself for how much the looks of betrayal on their faces would hurt. Tried to convince himself he would enjoy it. That this is what he wanted. That he chose to do this.

The shine of the blue circlet that wrapped around his head in a vice grip, reminded him that it wasn't his choice to make.

#Monkie Kid #my writing #Season 3 Fanfic

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jonsa101 · 3 years

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Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson: The Well-Meaning, Incredibly Self-Centered Leading Men We’ve Grown to Love.

Hey fam! Like I said, I’ve been writing a ton of meta lately and this is another one that’s just been sitting in my drafts. It’s basically a This Is Us and a New Amsterdam meta which is something I haven’t done before but something I want do more of. In my Game of Thrones days I used to write a lot of meta about shows and characters that had similarities so this is fun for me. I hope y’all enjoy this. ALSO THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR BOTH SHOWS!!!!!!!

Without a doubt the two most popular shows on NBC is This is Us and New Amsterdam. And what’s not to love? They’re both emotionally driven, heartfelt, shows that focus on incredibly deep and complex topics. Though one show focuses on family dynamics and the other focuses on the healthcare system, these shows are very similar in more ways than one. Case in point, Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson. The more I watch these two shows, the more I realize how these two characters are so alike!!! These two men are kind-hearted, well intentioned, individuals who genuinely want to make some sort of positive difference. They are incredibly ambitious and always have “bright ideas” and “goals” they want to accomplish and somehow they’re able to meet those goals without ever having to sacrifice their wants and needs. By every definition these men are the “main characters” or the ultimate “protagonists.” These are the folks that we are supposed to root for. At the same time, though these men have many traits to be admired, when you truly look at it both of them can be incredibly self centered and selfish especially when it pertains to their romantic partners and love interests. No matter how appealing you make these characters out to be these men clearly fall under the Behind Every Great Man trope.

The Behind Every Great Man trope has been used countless of times throughout Cinema and TV History that I’m sure that I don’t even have to explain it to you but for the sake of this meta this is how it’s defined.

“Behind Every Great Man...stands an even greater woman! Or in about a hundred variations is a Stock Phrase referring to how people rarely achieve greatness without support structures that go generally unappreciated, and said support structure is a traditionally female role via being the wife, mother, or sometimes another relation. This trope is specifically about a man who is credited with something important, but owes much of his success to the woman in his life.”

This trope usually has a negative connotation (and rightfully so) because the man who often benefits from this is an asshole and unworthy of this type of support!

For example:

Oliva and Fitz

Cristina Yang and Burke

Cookie and Lucious

Ghost and Tasha

There are countless others but these are a few of the couples that come to mind for me. Randall and Max aren’t comparable to any of these men that are listed above but they are still operating under the same trope. It just looks nicer because Max and Randall are inherently good and inspirational. They are the heroes of the story. I would even argue and say that both men fall under the Chronic Hero Syndrome trope which is defined as

“Chronic Hero Syndrome is an "affliction" of cleaner heroes where for them, every wrong within earshot must be righted, and everyone in need must be helped, preferably by Our Hero themself. While certainly admirable, this may have a few negative side-effects on the hero and those around them. Such heroes could wear themselves out in their attempts to help everyone or become distraught and blame themselves for the one time that they're unable to save the day. Spending so much time and effort saving everyone else can also put a strain on the hero's personal or dating life.”

Just because Max and Randall have these incredibly inspiring aspirations, is it fair that their wives and love interests are always expected to rise to the occasion and support them. Is it ok for their partners to continuously sacrifice their wants and needs because they love these men?

Let’s dive into it.

Truth be told, Beth Pearson, Helen Sharpe and Georgia Goodwin had to endure a GREAT DEAL to emotionally support the dreams and aspirations of these men while sacrificing so much of themselves in the process. In media we often see women sacrificing so much of their wants and needs out of love for these male leads and rarely do men do the same thing for their romantic partners and love interests. All three of these women clearly fall under the Act of True Love trope defined as

“The Act of True Love proves beyond doubt that you are ready to put your loved one's interests before your own, that you are truly loyal and devoted to them. Usually this involves a sacrifice on your part, at the very least a considerable effort and/or a great risk. The action must be motivated, not by morals or principle or expectation of future reward, but by sheer personal affection.When your beloved is in dire need of your help, or in great danger, and you do something, at great expense to yourself, for the sake of their safety, their welfare, or their happiness, thus proving beyond any doubt that you put their interest ahead of yours.”

Over the past few seasons we have seen all three of these women truly live up to this trope without any true consequences or accountability from the men they’re making all these sacrifices for. For example, in Beth and Randall’s marriage, how many times did Randall spring an idea on Beth without truly talking to her or considering her wants first? Everyone thinks these two are an ideal couple but she has endured A LOT for Randall.

Randall has spontaneously quit his job, moved his dying biological dad into their home, bought his biological dad’s old apartment building, fostered and adopted a child and also ran for city councilman outside of his district. In all of these decisions, Randall “consulted” Beth about it but at the same time didn’t really consult her. In a way there has always been this expectation of Beth to just go along for the ride with what Randall wants. Is anyone else exhausted from reading that list?! That’s a lot for partner to endure and lovingly support. But Beth has endured and has been Randall’s rock through it all!!! What worries me is that the one time Beth spoke out about her wants and needs of pursuing dance again, he couldn’t match the same energy she was giving him and eventually it led to world war three between them. Though things are looking up in their relationship and he’s starting to support her more, has Randall nearly given to Beth as much as she’s given to him? Absolutely not!

Similar to Randall, Max also had a wife who was a dancer. in fact, she was a prima ballerina. Unlike Randall and Beth, Max relationship with Georgia was rocky from the start. When we were first introduced to them Max and Georgia were separated and rightfully so. Georgia was never Max’s first priority. The hospital always came first in their relationship. He couldn’t even dedicate a full night to her for their proposal. In order to “save” their marriage they decide to have a baby and they both committed to taking a step back in their careers in order to do so. The problem was Max didn’t keep his side of their commitment and took a job to become the medical director at the biggest public hospital in the U.S. She gave up her career to start a family and he totally and completely betrayed her trust. So throughout season one we see them trying to rebuild their marriage but even in the midst of trying to rebuild a marriage based on trust and mutual respect Max still keeps things from Georgia. For several episodes he didn’t tell her that he had advance stages of throat cancer. He only told her when Georgia asked him to move back home. That’s fucked up! Then throughout their pregnancy he was never fully there for Georgia because he was either to preoccupied with the hospital or himself. At the end of it all, Georgia died tragically at the beginning of season two and really had nothing to show for it in her relationship with Max other than her daughter Luna.

Now let’s bring Helen Sharpe into the fold. While all of this stuff was going on with Max and his wife in season one, Max was developing a deep friendship, borderline emotional affair with Helen. Their relationship started out with Helen being his oncologist. As the new Medical Director of New Amsterdam, he swore Helen to secrecy about his diagnosis so that he could still run the hospital. Through that secrecy they eventually formed a deep bond but as his cancer got worse his secret was let out of the bag. He realistically needed someone to step up and run the hospital when he was going through chemo and though Helen already had commitments she stepped up and became his deputy medical director. Somewhere along the lines Max and Helen started developing feelings for each other. As Helen becomes aware of those feelings, she made a choice and decides to remove herself as Max’s doctor. He BITCHES about it but eventually accepts the boundary she’s clearly trying to set. Mind you, as this is unfolding, like Max, Helen is also in a new relationship with her boyfriend Panthaki. As Max’s cancer seems to be getting worse with his new doctor, she goes back on her boundary and decides to be his doctor again. This pisses her boyfriend off because he could already peep the vibe between them and he breaks up with her. When we get into season two, Max’s wife died and Helen set him up in a clinical trail (with a doctor she previously fired) that’s helping his cancer. Unbeknownst to Max, this doctor ends up holding his life saving treatment plan over Helen’s head and in order for his treatment to continue she gives this doctor half of her department!

Helen has sacrificed a lot for Max and now in season three she’s finally prioritizing her current wants and needs first! Like Randall, Max is starting to turn a page and is starting to support Helen and truly listen to the wants and needs that she has. All of this is good but my question is did any of these women have to sacrifice so much for the men in their lives to get a clue?

Why is it that this is a trope we see in media time and time and time again? Even if these men are good, why don’t we still keep these male characters accountable when they put their significant others in these situations that are clearly not fair? I’ve watched countless tv shows and I’ve seen a lot of tv couples but I think I have only come across one couple where the male counterpart has selflessly loved his significant other and has always put her needs above his own.

That character my friend is none other than PACEY WITTER

I might be mistaken but I think Joey and Pacey are the most popular ship in tv history and honestly, rightfully so! This is only example I can think of where the male in the relationship so willingly puts the wants and needs of his partner first. It is a completely selfless and sacrificial love. He never wants to hold her back and he never asks her to compromise her wants or needs for him. That’s why I think so many women love Pacey because in a sea of TV relationships, Pacey Witter is a fucking unicorn.

So to wrap this up does this mean that I hate Randall Pearson or Max Goodwin? No! I adore them. I love both of their characters so much. I just think that when we see the media continuously play out the sacrificial wife/love interest for the sake of their male counterparts, it should be called out. I’m all about sacrificial and selfless love but it should come from both sides.❤️❤️❤️

Anyway I hope y’all enjoy this! As always my DMs are opening here or on Twitter @oyindaodewale

#new amsterdam #sharpwin #This Is US #max goodwin #helen sharpe #randall pearson #beth pearson #georgia goodwin #pacey witter #joey x pacey #new amsterdam meta

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

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Madara with s/o who’s secretly developing a new (and dangerous) jutsu 🔥

And finally we have the third Grandpa with is s/o doing dangerous things under his nose haha As I said before, each Founder’s part ended up too long so I divided the request in three and I hope the anon who requested it don’t get mad at me because of this XD Anyway, if you want to read what I wrote for Hashirama and Tobirama, you can click on their names 😉

Now let’s go to see Madara’s reaction!

Fandom: Naruto | Madara Uchiha

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

As you can easily imagine, things are way different when it comes to Madara in such situation

Because unlike his partners who took some time to actually go after you and find out what you’ve been up to, he does it right at the first night

Okay, you use to went out every night for your personal training and that’s not strange at all, but that time he notices little differences in the process

An extra pack of ink tub and scrolls that you decide to put on your bag, a change of clothes (something you never carry with you in normal training sessions), extra medicine, these kind of things

Everything is pointing to two possibilities: whether you’re going to stay out for longer or you’re creating/perfecting a technique, and a complex one

Madara is not only an observant man: he’s curious, and unlike the Senjus the idea of invading your privacy is not enough to stop him from following you that night

It’s how he finds out you’ve been working to create a new jutsu

But you’ve created other jutsu before. Why would you have to hide the process of this one from him?

The only way to find out is to watch you perform it and understand of kind of jutsu you’re creating

At first, he’s content in doing it. He’s interested in your technique, as well as to see how far you can get with it

But at the end of the session, he notices you’re more tired than you usually get after training

The obvious explanation is in the jutsu: it is not finished yet, so the amount of chakra it demands is yet to be defined. But he’s confident that you’ll soon find a way to fix this

He’s careful enough to go back home before you so you don’t notice he was out

When you cross the door, he comes to help you since you’re exhausted. He does the basic stuff to take care of you: runs you a bath, washes your hair, change your clothes, bring you some food and take you to bed

He has done this before after you came back from difficult missions

He also avoids questioning you, so you never get suspicions

And things stay like this for the next days

However, Madara sees that your tiredness is increasing at each night, and contrary to what he thought, you don’t do anything to fix the problem of chakra control

Is it possible that you’re unaware of the problem? No, it can’t be. You’re smarter than this

And because he refuses to see that you are in fact unaware of it, he doesn’t interfere, and your bruises and waste of chakra get worse as time passes

(Still, the jutsu is progressing in its other aspects, so you’re hopeful about completing it in the next days)

One night, he finally acknowledges your failure and decided to intervene

And thank God he does that in time

Now the jutsu is almost complete, you are almost at the final stage of your work and making the final moves, but the possibility of this being your death is real and Madara can’t let this happen while he’s watching

When he leaves his spot and grabs you in his arms, stopping you from completing the hand seals, you are frightened

You weren’t expecting to have company, and once you look in his eyes you understand everything

He has been watching you all this time, and maybe in the previous nights, ready to take action in case things get out of control

But things are under control right now, so why did he do that?, you ask yourself right before passing out with exhaustion

When you wake up, you notice you are back in your room. Each part of your body hurts and the morning light enters through the window. You can’t even think clearly

Only then you realize that the amount of chakra consumed by your jutsu was something abnormal (and that you should have paid more attention to that)

After falling asleep and waking up again, you finally manage to remember what happened that night: you were about to do something really irresponsible, but lucky you, Madara was there and stopped you

You look around and spot him entering the door with some medicine

At the exact moment your looks meet, he leaves the medicine aside and approaches you

He sits by your side and puts his palm on your forehead

“Fortunately, y/n, the fever diminished during the night. It is probably the effect of the treatment I’ve been applying to your bruises”

You don’t reply. You just nod with the energy you got

“Some of them will heal soon. Others are more serious”

How serious?, you want to ask

“Serious enough to keep you on this bed for the next days and not even think of performing any jutsu during this period” he says as if he just read your thoughts

There are many things you want to say, you want to ask, but you sense this is not the time

You two just exchange a look that says everything: you will talk about what happened when you’re recovered

Madara is a practical and organized man when he needs to be

He chooses a good medical ninja to examine you as the first measure and makes sure their instructions are being followed

However he prefers to do everything by himself

Not that you find it bad, though: he knows you better than anyone, so he knows how to take care of you

If you need to leave the bed for a moment (because lying all the day can be tiring too), he takes you out of the room at the right time. If you just want to stay quiet and alone in bed, he leaves you there

He seems to sense any minor discomfort you have and act to diminish it: a massage to cease the tiredness in your muscles, a lotion to the bruises that are still burning, stuff like this

Finally you are fully capable of leaving the bed and the house without help

You’re not getting back to work yet, but now you’re able to have the conversation about the incident

You tell him everything from the start: how the idea of the jutsu came out, your reasons to take it ahead, your measures to protect yourself and why you didn’t give up despite the risk of the technique

You also explain that no, you never noticed the failure responsible for the unbalanced chakra consumption that almost killed you. You only noticed that when you were under the treatment, and were willing to tell this to him

Madara listens to you without interrupting. Indeed, he seems interested in everything you have to tell about this jutsu

At the end of your explanation, you understand why

He says he has been observing your progress with the jutsu since the first night, when he found out about your project, and that he quickly noticed the failure in it

However, he didn’t want to interfere and were hoping that you would fix the failure soon, which you didn’t. And that’s why he stopped you from finishing the technique

Here you see the difference etween being with Madara and being with anyone else: somehow you’re not surprised to know that you’ve been followed, nor angry that he waited to stop you in a crucial point. Instead, you’re willing to know what he has in mind. You never think of the present; it’s always about the future

“Y/n, at first I was just moved by curiosity about your secret project, but the more I learned from it, the more I wanted to know. Now that you revealed the ideology behind it, not only I find this jutsu of yours impressive, but I believe it would be a mistake not to finish it”

You hold your breath. But you almost died because of this jutsu ???

He smiles, guessing your thoughts

“I will help you to fix the failure. And then you will try the jutsu on me”

He states that though he can understand the theory behind the jutsu, there are some details he can only check if he experiences it on himself

You can’t help smiling

Yes, it’s a practical solution for a big problem, but it also points out Madara’s level of self confidence and enthusiasm. The proposal sounds like something only he would do, and this is so funny

Yet it’s your only chance to save your technique and make all your hard work pay off, so you accept it and immediately start to make plans

Of course it will take some days until you can go to the first session because you’re still weak

But once you get better, you will start to work

When the day finally comes, you are nervous, but determined

The first thing Madara asks you is to perform the technique and be prepared, because he will stop it at the moment when the failure shows

He wants to understand where exactly is the problem

You do this a few times until he finds it

You make a pause and he explains the situation. You say you noticed the nature of the failure too, but couldn’t find a counteraction for it

Well, Madara has an idea, and he tells it to you

It involves changing one or two hand seals and alter the way you manage your chakra at same moment

You try again following these instructions. It’s not that easy, but you do your best

And to your joy, it works

You try other times, and soon your body memorizes the procedure

You write down new notes on your scroll and revise them with Madara

At the end of the day, you are tired, but feeling rewarded. You also apologize for not asking for his help before, even though you already told him you wanted to prove your own value by doing everything by yourself

He says you don’t need to apologize now that the jutsu is finally completed, and makes you promise that you will always try your new techniques on him from now on

You laugh hard at this and do your promise

#naruto requests #naruto headcanons #madara #madara x reader #madara headcanons

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moonlightchild-otome · 3 years

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the real story of amélie from arthur’s route

hey hey! it’s been a long time! i have been quite busy these past weeks with finals and the summer break.

i also want to start writing hcs, so if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them to me!

today i wanted to write about a story that i read not too long ago that really coincides with the evil character of amelie in arthur’s route.

a lot of people might have actually already heard of it, she is known as history’s most cruel murderer.

the person we are going to talk about lived in the period of victorian england and was sometimes suspected to have a link with jack the ripper, the serial killer who terrorized the inhabitants of whitechapel.

in other words, she is called the ogress of reading or the victorian ogress and the trial of these murders has been the subject of much attention, especially because she preyed on very young children. Let me tell you the terrifying story of a monster who disguised herself as a warm and loving mother figure

the story of the infamous amelia elisabeth dyer

an ordinary family

our story begins in 1836 in the port city of bristol in england. the hobley family welcomes the arrival of a fifth child, a lovely little girl called amelia elisabeth. the little amelia is very lucky, in a time when poverty reigns in the united kingdom she knows a respectable education, learns to read and to love poetry. however the luck ends quickly as amelia’ mother caught typhus, an illness that showed her a lot of psychological problems. amelia had to take care of her mother until she passes away from her illness. after her mother’s death, the girl loses contact with most of her family members. meanwhile, amelia starts seeing george thomas, a 59 year old man, much older than her, who was only 25 at the time (long live the sugar daddies!). they planned to get married and to avoid gossip, they both lied about their date of birth on the day of the ceremony. (amelia pretended that she was 32 and george 48)

during her marriage, amelia learned to be a nurse but she doesn't have time to forge a real career as her husband dies leaving her alone with their children who are still very young. it's already not easy to raise a child alone nowadays but imagine what it was like at that time when england was in the middle of the victorian period, the industrial revolution changed the shape of the cities and saw the emergence of new social classes. in london and other major british cities, poverty has invaded the neighborhoods and the poor have few options to get by. some live in workhouses which reduce them more or less in slavery for a mouthful of bread while others choose criminality to support themselves.

however, amelia remembers ellen dane, a midwife in her building with whom she got along quite. she had told her that to earn more money she had become a baby farmer.

it is a profession which does not exist any more today but was rather widespread in the 19th century. now, it should not be forgotten that this england inherited puritanism and considered that to have a child out of marriage was a horrible sin. if that came to be known, the young women concerned risked big and could lose their reputation and their work. especially that, at that time, one did not consider that the father had a role to play in the event of unwanted pregnancy. also, it was obviously out of question to abort except clandestinely which was at the same time illegal and very dangerous. all that to say that when an unwanted child came to the world most women preferred to give it up rather than risk public humiliation. but abandonment was also illegal, and none of them wanted to risk the death penalty if their actions came public. this is precisely where the baby farmers intervene. when a woman fell pregnant and did not want to keep the child, she had to put an ad in the newspapers and leave her child to a farmer.the baby would be taken care of and fed until the farm finds a new family. it was a sort of clandestine human trafficking, and sometimes the farmers even housed the mothers in their homes during their pregnancy in order to hide their big bellies.

the birth of the monster

soon, the ogress settles in reading close to london and publishes advertisements where she presents herself as a respectable woman to marry, capable of providing a healthy environment and filled with affection to the children that she intends to collect like the other farmers. she asks for money to be able to look after them. amelia quickly realizes that it is much more profitable to keep the money rather than to use it for feeding and educating the children. and so little by little the treatments that she inflicts on the children become more and more dire (spoiler: she doesn’t take care of them anymore). and even worse, she even drugs the children to prevent them from crying because of hunger. the kids often die of malnutrition and infantile diseases. it is absolutely terrible and yet it is far from being unusual, in fact orphans were very often victims of abuse and many of the baby farmers were far from being trustworthy people. a lot took advantage of the distress of the mothers ready to do anything to keep their secret and these so-called “baby farmers” would leave the children to die in order to pocket the money without any effort. when the mothers asked for news of their children, they often got no answer and when a family wanted to get a child back, the farmer gave them another one instead.

amelia very quickly became addicted to the drugs she used on the children as she couldn’t stand the crying and the presence of the orphans anymore. she decides to move on to a more radical option: directly eliminating the children she is entrusted with.

at first, she will choose to poison them and claim an infantile disease, but the doctor who came to attest the death of the infants shows himself a little suspicious (at the same time, she gives him a case every week or so :/). in short, the guy warned the authorities so that they could investigate on amelia. but no luck, she manages to get away with negligence with a simple sentence of forced labor. and moreover, she decided to opt for a more brutal method for her future murders. that is to say, she was going to strangle them as soon as she was allowed to keep them, pocket the money and look for a new child to start all over again. and this will go on for years, sometimes at the rate of six babies a day, no need to declare the deaths, she got rid of them herself, wrapping them in cloth or old clothes, and then she left to burn them in an isolated place to hide them or throw them in the thames. and when she felt that the authorities could trace the dead children back to her, she simulates a nervous breakdown and suicidal desires and runs off to a psychiatric hospital. she even tried to kill herself once by overdosing to escape an overly suspicious mother who was asking for her child. except that by consuming opiates she had become hyper resistant and the dose that she took was not enough to kill her. she then moved often and took on different identities to prevent the police from finding her and understanding who she really was and this little merry-go-round worked for a long time, a very long time, even, but not indefinitely...

ambush and arrest

in january 1896, a waitress named evelyna marmon gave birth to an illegitimate daughter named doris. she was looking for someone to take care of her and very soon she came across the ad of a certain mrs. harding who wrote "married couple, without children, want to adopt a child in good health in a beautiful country house, price: 10£”. necessarily for this young mother, it is a godsend and the two women contact each other. and here is what mrs. harding replied, "I would be happy to have a dear little girl, one that I will be able to raise like my own. we are a united couple of fairly good conditions. I do not want a child for the lure of gain but to accompany the comfort of the house. my husband and I love children but we do not have any. with me, this child will have a good house as well as all the love of a mother". at this stage you can guess that mrs. harding is in fact amelia dyer who took a false name and who continued with her macabre activities. doris gets taken from the waitress by “mrs. harding” who confirms by letter that the child is doing well, after that she doesn’t give any more news. spoiler: the child did not have more than a few hours to live. once the crime is committed, because yes, it’s done already. amelia covers the body of doris with another child in fabric and travels to the edge of the thames to throw them under the eyes of a man who seemed to observe her but who didn’t address a word to her.

in this kind of case, one wonders “where tf is the police??” well they were on the point of starting a very interesting investigation... on march 30th 1896, the police force finds the lifeless body of helena fry, a baby of hardly 15 months who floated on the waters of the river wrapped in a brown cloth. for the authorities, it is obviously a murder since the child was strangled. they later found on the cloth, a half erased writing which resembles an address. this address is amélia’s, who is now 58 years old; the police then trace her and set up a trap.

basically what they did was to use a young woman as a cover, she pretended to need a farmer to look after her child and as expected it was amelia who answered her directly. so that's how the police organized an ambush at the murderer's house. what first shocked the policemen was especially the unbearable smell which reigned in the house because of the decomposition of certain corpses, they also found meters of edging tape which she used to strangle her victims, and also telegrams testifying of all the adoptions made as well as letters of mothers who asked for news of their children. so yes, there is a lot of evidence to charge her for, especially as they found at least seven more bodies by dredging the thames after her arrest. the bodies clearly had a white mark around their neck probably because of the tape she used to kill the children with. we also know that about twenty children under her care at that time were missing but for the rest it's impossible to know the exact number of amelia's victims. in fact, it is estimated that in 20 years she would have killed between 200 and 400 newborn babies, that's why she is said to be the most prolific serial killer in history.

her sentence and death

in spite of this very important number of victims amelia will be accused for only one crime, the one of the little doris. except that she very quickly confessed a quantity of other murders and tried to commit suicide twice while she was incarcerated. the defense pleaded madness and because she had spent time in asylum the doctors that she had managed to manipulate were able to confirm that was unstable. she herself said that the children she had killed died peacefully; that they were called back by God who was someone who could love them more than anyone on this earth, she said that she had simply made angels and that one day she would sit beside the Lord Almighty. her breakdowns of madness always coincided strangely with the moment when the police approached, so we can think that it was more of simulation and calculation than true dementia. the jury took hardly five minutes to return its verdict, the crimes were so horrible that her mental state could not do much anyways.

amelia was thus condemned to the death penalty. on june 10th 1896, amelia dyer walks towards the scaffold, she decided not to appeal by hearing her verdict and wrote herself five notebooks of confession before her execution that she entrusted to a priest. she tells inside them to have taken pleasure in seeing her victims dying. before her execution, one asked her if she had any last words to pronounce but she answered that she did not have anything to add. at 9 o’clock sharp, the woman who was called the ogresse of reading was hanged. following these tragic events the controls of the adoptions and the activities of the baby farmers were reinforced, new laws were also put in place to protect the children and the mothers and the advertisements in the newspapers were supervised. that said, it still took a certain number of years before child trafficking was seriously supervised…

that’s all for the story! it is a very horrific case and i can’t even imagine what the children must have gone through. i also think we can all agree with the similarities with the character of amélie in arthur’s route.

#ikemen #Ikemen Vampire #ikemen games #ikemen series #ikemen arthur #arthur route #ikemen vampire arthur #IkeVamp #amelia dyer #serial killer #victorian england #victorian #victorian era #ikevamp arthur #ikevam #ikevam arthur

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hercleverboy · 4 years

Text

for better or worse

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ spencer and the reader deal with the repercussions of infertility.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ infertility, endometriosis, swearing, self-depreciating thoughts. this story includes mentions of infertility as a result of endometriosis. Please do not read this if that is triggering or upsetting

word count ↠ 3.3k

“If the hurt comes, so will the happiness.” — Rupi Kaur

Y/N had never thought much about having kids. She figured that if she met the right man and settled down with him, she’d love to have a family of her own. Though, if that didn’t happen, she wouldn’t feel incomplete if she never had children. She didn’t feel they were a necessity, like her life would be unsuccessful without them. Besides, she liked that she would always have the option. She didn’t have to have kids, but the option was there for her to choose the day she decided to wanted to.

So when she met Spencer, and fell in love with his beautiful brain and big heart, she knew that if she was going to have children with anyone, it would be him. She wanted to give him the family he so obviously desired. They discussed it, and Spencer admitted he was more than ready to be a dad, and Y/N told him she knew he’d be a phenomenal one, despite his fears. They agreed they’d start trying once their wedding was over, and they could be the family they’d always dreamed of.

At first it was exciting. Sex was fun and enjoyable as the couple anticipated creating a new life, a child for them to raise and protect.

However, after 6 months of trying with no positive results, sex had become more of a chore. It was no longer about pleasure or done with excitement, but it was tired and half-assed, with only the goal of getting pregnant in sight. Y/N was worried something was wrong but she knew that unlike in the movies, getting pregnant does take time with some couples. She had faith they would get their baby soon.

Once they hit the one year mark, Y/N was terrified. It was odd, she thought. She always thought she’d been content, with or without kids. But when she looked at her husband, she was terrified she wouldn’t be able to give him the family he deserved, the children she wanted to raise with him by her side. She insisted they get fertility tests, and have doctors check them out to ensure that nothing was wrong with either or them. Spencer had rambled some statistics and facts, trying to explain that sometimes these things just take time, but once he saw the fearful tears in his wife’s eyes, he agreed and made them an appointment.

Y/N was silent and Spencer worried. She didn’t speak during the car ride to the doctors. Nor did she speak as they sat in the waiting room of the doctors, waiting for their results. Her leg bounced nervously, and he placed his hand on her thigh in an attempt to calm her down. Her leg stopped and she looked up at him, that same fear in her eyes.

“It’ll be okay, baby.” He promised. “Whatever happens, we will be okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she nodded.

It was then that a nurse came toward them. “Dr and Mrs Reid?” She asked, and they nodded. “Come with me.” Spencer found himself profiling the nurse, looking for any indication as to what the news they were about to receive was, but he found none. Y/N gripped Spencer’s hand tightly as they stood and followed the nurse.

Y/N had always been one of those people, where if someone told her she couldn’t have something, she’d only want it 10 times more.

And there’s a harsh difference between choosing not to have something and being told you can’t ever have it at all.

Severe Endometriosis.

She had Severe Endometriosis. She knew what it meant. She’d always experienced painful periods, but she’d always been told by her mother and other female figures in her life that it was normal, that she was making a big deal over nothing. Never had she considered it was something so serious.

She stared at the wall in a state of shock, her hand dropping from Spencer’s limply.

The doctor’s face showed sympathy. “It’s rare we get cases of endometriosis where the patient doesn’t exhibit symptoms until stage four.”

Spencer couldn’t seem to find his words. Finally, he managed to string together a coherent sentence. “What does this mean for us?” He managed to get out. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know exactly what it meant. He had read up on the topic before, and was disgruntled by the lack of research into what caused it. He thought maybe the doctor would tell him something he didn’t already know.

“Whilst there are treatments, It is unlikely you will ever be able to conceive, and if you do, the chances of Mrs Reid carrying that baby to full term without miscarriage or other serious complications are slim.”

The tears slipped from Y/N’s eyes then.

He wasn’t the problem. According to the doctor, Spencer was ‘incredibly fertile’.

He wasn’t the problem.

She was.

“I’m incredibly sorry I don’t have better news for you. Would you like to discuss possible treatments? I have some leaflets-” the doctor continued but Y/N wasn’t listening. Instead she stared blankly at the wall, tears falling silently from her eyes as the angry and hateful thoughts consumed her.

“I’ll give you two a minute.” With a sad smile on her lips, the doctor left the room, the door closing quietly behind her.

After minutes of silence, Spencer was the first to speak. “Y/N, Sweetheart.” He tried, a gentle attempt to get her attention.

No response.

“Y/N-” He tried again, but she interrupted him with a choked sob and a loud sniffle.

“Take me home, Spence. Please.” He nearly sobbed at her pleading, heartbroken tone.

“Okay. Okay, baby.” He moved to kiss her forehead again but she pulled away from him, standing up and swiftly leaving the room.

The same deathly silence filled the room and Spencer could practically hear his heart breaking.

On the car ride home, Y/N stared out the window whilst Spencer gave her longing glances. His wife, the love of his life.

He felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe.

What was he supposed to say?

How could he make this better?

He couldn’t, he knew. He also knew the horrid, self-depreciative thoughts were filling Y/N’s head and he wished he could stop them but he just didn’t know how.

So instead of words, he reached across the centre console, taking her hand in his. He was pleased when she didn’t pull away. He brought her hand up, pressing a kiss to their wedding ring that sat on her finger. It served as a silent reminder of the vows they made.

For better or worse.

Their house felt empty.

It was much too big for the two of them. They’d moved in 2 weeks after their wedding, promising to fill the empty rooms with children.

So much for that, Y/N couldn’t help but think.

Spencer took Y/N’s coat, and watched as she numbly slid off her shoes. His heart ached at the sight of her, so broken, so angry at herself. He spoke quietly.

“Let me make you some tea, sweetheart.”

Y/N just wanted to scream, “Tea isn’t going to fix this!”

But she knew her husband, she knew he was wracking his big genius brain for any idea on how to help her and coming up empty. and besides, shouting wouldn��t fix anything. She couldn’t push him away when they needed one another most.

She just nodded gratefully and turned toward the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Spencer came over, setting the tea down on the coffee table in front of them before sitting down next to her.

He reached out to her, but stopped before he touched her.

Did she want him to hold her? Could that possibly make this any better?

He was almost afraid to touch her, as though she’d break like porcelain beneath his trembling hands.

After minutes of an uncomfortable silence, Spencer cleared his throat and spoke gently.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He started. Y/N looked at him confused, so he elaborated. “I know you think this is somehow your fault, like you had any control over this, but I promise you it isn’t.”

“Isn’t it?” She asked quietly, but her tone was cold. She didn’t want to sound harsh, but she was so angry, at herself, at the universe. “What did I do to deserve this, huh?” She asked, tears now cascading down her cheeks.

“You did nothing to deserve this, Y/N- “ She cut him off again.

“God I wanted to give you a family so badly, Spencer. But no, I can’t do the one thing a woman is supposed to be able to do!” She cried, her voice rising as she stood from the couch. It was clear that the anger wasn’t at all directed at Spencer, only at herself.

and it was breaking spencer’s heart.

“Please don’t say that, Y/N.” He begged.

“It’s true! If I can’t give you a baby I’m useless to you!”

“Stop it!” Spencer was shouting now too, standing up as well. “You’re not useless, Y/N!”

She scoffed through her tears. “You heard what the doctor said, Spence! I’m the problem! Not you, me! You’re gonna leave me so you can find someone who can give you what you want-” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. The look of hurt on Spencer’s face is something she had never seen before. Her insecurities were rearing their ugly heads and she couldn’t stop from confessing them.

“Is that what you think?” He asked. He wasn’t angry, but he was so very hurt, and even mad at himself for ever letting her insecurities get so bad that she’d even think he’d consider that. “That I’d leave you for someone else?”

Y/N nodded, ashamed. “I understand if you want to. You’ve always wanted your own kids Spencer, god knows what an amazing father you’d be.” She gave a dry, humourless chuckle. “I can’t give you that. but someone else can and-” She sobbed. “If it means you’d be happy, that you could have a family-” She broke down, harsh sobs wracking through her chest. Spencer was quick to bring her into his arms, and his own sobs hit him just as hard.

After calming down a little he pulled back, using one hand to take her chin and make her face him. “Look at me baby.” He pleaded, and she did. “I never want to hear you say that shit again, okay?” His voice was stern, not angry. “I love you. I married you, for god’s sake.” He chuckled. “Us not being able to make a baby changes none of that. We don’t need a baby to be a family, Y/N. We’re already a family, me and you, and I am perfectly content I promise you. Just please-” His tone was begging. “Please don’t ever think I’m going anywhere, that I’d leave you like that. I love you, so much. and when we got married I promised you forever. I intend to keep that promise.” She nodded at his words, burying her head in his chest as he sighed, kissing her forehead gently.

“I wanted to give you a baby.” She mumbled, and it shattered Spencer’s heart. Sure, he’d always pictured having children of his own, but as far as he was concerned, as long as he had Y/N, his life would be perfect.

For her, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“I know you did, sweetheart. but just because we can’t make a baby doesn’t mean we can’t have one. There are hundreds of children out there in the adoption system waiting for a family, waiting for a home that we could provide them with.” He reminded her gently, and she sniffed. She hadn’t really considered adopting, but now she could understand why it would be a good idea. “When you’re ready to look at other options, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Yeah, Okay. Thank you Spence. I love you.”

It was a rough few months that followed. As a couple, they were stronger than they’d ever been, but Y/N still sometimes struggled with the burden that weighed her down. Whenever she saw Spencer entertaining JJ’s kids at events the team invited them to, she had to excuse herself to the bathroom for a minute to compose herself. It took a few months to wrap her head around the idea that even if their children weren’t theirs biologically, they’d be no different than if they were, still loved and cared for the same.

In those months they also bought a dog. Well, Spencer bought one, a female golden retriever puppy that he brought home unannounced one day. He was afraid Y/N wouldn’t want one, but he figured that one way to help ease her upset would be to try and make their big home feel more lively- his solution was a puppy.

Thankfully, Y/N fell in love with the puppy, who they later named Millie, and had nearly cried when Spencer explained why he bought the dog.

“ I just wanted our house to feel a bit more like a home. and I thought she’d be a great addition to our little family.”

It took 2 more months before Y/N decided she was ready.

Y/N approached her husband as he sat reading on the sofa, Millie curled up next to him. “Hey baby. You got a minute?”

His brows creased in confusion, but he complied, marking his page and setting his book down. “Sure thing. What’s up?”

She took a seat the other side of Millie, reaching out to stroke her soft fur. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve had enough time to deal with and process everything that happened. I think I’d like us to look for some adoption agencies? I’d really love to give a home to a child who needs one.” She smiled and the grin on Spencer’s face was ecstatic as he jumped from the couch, scooping Y/N up in his arms and lifting her from the ground, the commotion causing Millie to bark.

“Yes! Yes we can do that. I’d like nothing more.” He smiled and then pressed his lips to hers.

They sat down together and filled out an application for a great looking adoption agency, and went through the numerous stages, including people coming to view their home to ensure it is a stable environment to raise a child in. Of course they were given the all clear, with Spencer’s more than stable income and Y/N only working part time, they were one step closer.

One day they received a call from the agency saying they had a young pregnant lady who was around six months along but had decided she didn’t want to keep her child, instead, as soon as it was born, she wanted to give the baby to a family who couldn’t have their own.

Y/N and Spencer met with the girl, Alicia, multiple times before Alicia decided she was more than happy for the baby to be adopted by the Reid family.

Y/N and Spencer were ecstatic, spending all their free time shopping for baby items and decorating one of the upstairs bedrooms with little pink items, once they’d found out the baby was a girl. To say Y/N and Spencer were excited would be an understatement, and they were now just playing the waiting game, as Alicia was due to give birth any day.

Spencer was in the shower whilst Y/N worked on cooking dinner. She heard her phone ringing in the living room, and quickly washed her hands before walking to grab it, Millie trailing behind her.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mrs Y/N Reid?”

“This is she.”

“Brilliant. I’m delighted to tell you that Alicia has gone into labour, so you’re gonna want to head over to the hospital now.”

Y/N’s mouth went dry and happy tears sprang to her eyes.

“Mrs Reid?”

”Yes! Sorry! We’ll be right there, Thankyou!” She hung up the phone, standing in the same place as shock filled her. They were getting their baby.

“Who was that?” Spencer walked down the stairs, hair still damp from his shower, dressed in a large shirt and jogging bottoms.

“It was the hospital. Alicias in labour.” The words didn’t feel real as they left her lips. “We’re getting our baby.”

Spencer’s mouth dropped open in momentary shock, before that beautiful grin broke out on his features. He pulled Y/N into him, laughing happily, happy tears welling in his eyes. “We’re getting our baby.” He repeated back to her in shock.

They couple burst through the doors to the maternity ward, walking towards the front desk with a skip in their step.

“Hi! We’re having a baby!” Y/N spoke excitedly.

The lady at the desk looked at Y/N and her obviously not pregnant belly. “That normally takes around nine months, honey.”

“Right, yes uh- we’re adopting a baby who’s being born right now.” Y/N corrected herself, her hand reaching down to grab Spencer’s and squeeze it tightly.

“Aw well, congratulations you two! Can I take the patient’s name?”

“Alicia Ray.” Spencer spoke, the excitement evident in his voice too.

“Alright, you’re gonna want to head down the hall and then take a right, she’s in room 206. You’ll have to wait outside but a doctor will greet you once your baby has been born, alright?”

The pair nodded excitedly, and Spencer noted how she’d said “Your baby”, before turning quickly and speeding down the hall, Spencer nearly tripping in the process.

12 hours later Y/N was at home holding a small pink bundle in her arms. She’d come into the world at 2:56 am, a healthy 7 pounds and 6 ounces, and they’d settled on naming her Alexandra Diana Reid, Alex for short.

Y/N sat on the chair in the corner of the nursery, gazing down at her daughter, the child she would love as though she’d carried her for 9 months. Y/N could see now that it didn’t matter, Alex was their daughter in every way that mattered. Millie sauntered in, curling up by Y/N’s feet.

Spencer entered the nursery, a smile on his lips as he walked over to his wife, watching as she slowly rocked their daughter, who slept peacefully for the moment.

“Ah, there are my two favourite girls.” He joked, and a soft whimper came from Millie. “Don’t worry, you’re my favourite too, Mills.” He laughed softly as he reached down to ruffle the dogs fur before perching on the arm rest of the chair, winding his arm around Y/N’s shoulders as he looked down at his daughter.

“She’s perfect.” He croaked out, tears of pride filling his eyes. He reached down a finger, nudging her tiny hand with it, and nearly combusting with happiness when she wrapped her tiny fingers around his large one.

Y/N let out a little scoff. “Look at that, she’s already a daddy’s girl. She’s barely a day old and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”

Spencer chuckled softly. “She does. I’d do anything for her. I’d do anything for our family, you know that right?” He felt silly asking, but he needed to know she understood. That he would drop anything and everything for his beautiful little family. He’d quit the BAU tomorrow to protect them, they were his only priority.

“I know, Spence. We’re so grateful.” She assured him, looking up at him with love-filled eyes. He leaned down gently, kissing her, the warmth and contentedness filling him.

For better or worse

for as long as they both shall live.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds

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