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internalsealpanic · 3 years

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Monster Monster

I wholeheartedly blame this pic for the existence of this fic. I just wanna hug him and ruffle his hair.

Summary: Parent Teacher Conferences are very scandalous.

a/n: This is actually one of my few fics where reading some of my previous fics will help. I highly recommend reading Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries to get a better feel on Dick and Reader’s relationship but anything on the Dick Grayson masterlist works too. Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @americasmarauders for proofreading. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @batarella for help with the ending.

warnings: A slur is mentioned but it gets shut down. Also, swearing.

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“Tt, stop staring at me.”

You bite back a smile and what was probably a laugh rising in your throat. “Hmmm, no.” You hum, carding your fingers through Damian’s curls. The corners of your mouth twitch into a frown when you feel an angry bump against your fingers. It’s dry and there seems to be no break in the skin as far as you could tell. You let a little sigh of relief escape you which has the unintended consequence of upsetting the gremlin in front of you.

Damian attempts to swat your hand away, snarling as he did. You grin at him, all sharp teeth and pettiness. You, being childish, do not take your hand away and instead ruffle his hair more. An adorably petulant pout settles on Damian’s mouth making the kid look ten-years-old for once. It takes everything in you not to squeal in delight.

“Unhand me. I do not require your mothering and you would do very well to leave the scolding to Richard or Pennyworth.” You can easily picture Alfred scolding Damian but Dick? You try to picture Dick, hand on his hip, trying his damndest to be mean to the kid but you just couldn’t. Sure, Nightwing can be terrifying, even Batman but Dick? Especially with a kid? Not even feasible. You snort openly, the noise echoing in the deadly silent room. The woman on the other side of the room sitting next to a boy with a faceful of bruises and probably a couple of chipped teeth glares at you. Specifically, the woman scowls at your arm, skin festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. You fight the urge to stick your tongue out at her. Instead, you tug a bit at your sleeves, baring the golden lines streaked with old gashes. A low humorless laugh escapes you causing her scowl to deepen.

Damian follows your line of sight. His face folds in utter contempt. The boy next to her flinches. Their size difference made this all the funnier. “[What did he do?]” you ask in what you hope are the correct words in Arabic. Damian crosses his arms not meeting your gaze. His leg kicks out, the restlessness thrumming in his bones. “[Your accent is atrocious.]”

Your mouth twitches uncontrollably, edging into a fond smile. You tamp it down with a click of your tongue lest the little demon tear your head off. “[I’m out of practice, child,]” Damian grabs at a space beside him only for his hand to close on nothing. Something inside you dies when you stop yourself from cackling. Thank goodness, Bruce has--had--the good sense to take the kid’s katana away.

“[Anyway, what did he do?]”

“[How are you so sure he did something?]”

“[Because you’re a brat but not stupid. You are by far the most annoyingly reasonable child I have had the displeasure of conversing with.]” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. It seems the assumed hatred was mutual. You watch as he folds his face back into a glower, not quite fast enough to evade your attention but certainly fast enough to fool the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, you’re used to the acrobatics of faces, the chaotic cacophony of microexpression. Most people in your life are, after all, awful at broadcasting their feelings even when it was sorely needed. This is probably why you gravitated to Dick so easily. The man believed in openness, in communication.

Distantly, you can hear the woman across from you tap her foot impatiently against the carpet. A flick of your eye tells you she was sneering at both of you likely eavesdropping (and failing) on your conversation. Why she needs to know what you and a ten-year-old with a stick up his ass were talking about you weren’t sure. Damian turns his head slightly towards you, angling his chin upward to mask the uncertainty in his posture. “[If you must know, he-]”

“Gypsies”

The syllables ring like a loud staccato of gunshots despite how quietly she’d hissed it. You freeze. You can feel Damian stiffen right beside you. Understanding flowed into you molten and bubbling. You feel your throat itch, unkind words coalescing into a lump in your throat. You turn your body to Damian who was now still but you can feel the anger wicking off him. You sling your arm over the head of the chair behind him drawing his attention back to you.

He arches a brow at you, challenging. The expression falters when the next few words leave your mouth.

“[You’re off the hook.]”

Principal Jameson is a nasally man. It isn’t his anything to do with his voice. Though, you would be remiss to say that his voice was pleasant. You’re actually half tempted to turn your bad ear on him, block out the words coming from him but that would negate the point of you coming here. His voice isn’t that unpleasant but his entire demeanor rubbed you the wrong way. You’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone than this man. Then again, this might just be a by-product of your presence. Dick, and several other batbrats, have helpfully informed you that you were in fact pants pissing scary to civilians. You would like to say you couldn’t see it but standing in front of this man it was clear as day.

“Y/n L/n,” you offer congenially. His shoulders ease a fraction but did not offer you a hand. You smother a sigh before offering an additional “I believe Mr.Grayson-Wayne had informed you that I would be coming in his stead to discuss this-” Shit show, your mind supplies but thankfully, your mouth was quick enough to bite it back. “- incident.” Beside you Damian scoffed. You stop yourself from kicking the kid because that really would not do.

“Yes, well, Ma’am your-” Jameson halts frankly unsure of your relationship to Damian because of course, Dick would leave the leg work to your socially allergic ass. You make a mental note to kick him later. “- charge.” you supply, feeling a modicum of sympathy for the drowning man.Your eyes flick to Damian. His face is impassive, ire still directed at the thirteen-year-old sniveling behind his mother. The term is too cold for your taste but as of right now that’s all you were. Maybe you’ve finally found a Robin you wouldn't get attached to.

“Well, ma’am, you see your charge, Damian, he’s punched another student and has yet to even apologize. He even started a full on brawl.”

“Mhmm, I see,” you drawl tilting your head. You feel Damian stiffen at the ease of your response. You don’t have to look at his face to know that he was glaring at you with something in his eyes withering from the betrayal. The woman across from nods agreeably as if you had said something sensible. Jameson for his part nearly sighs with relief. You click your teeth a little irritable from their responses but more fascinated than anything. ‘I see’ is barely an answer but they each filled in the gaps with their own assumptions. “And has that young man over there apologized for what he said to Damian? Or for the lump on Damian’s head? Surely, you sent Damian to the clinic as well.” you voice out looking as scandalized as possible.

The room froze.

Your eyes will probably roll into the back of your head before your meeting is done. Judging from Jameson’s posture, they didn’t. They should have at least checked if the kid had a concussion. A familiar sort of ire rose in you. Oh boy, you’re going to have a field day with these people. You sigh in exasperation before continuing. “Not only did you neglect to send him to the clinic to check on the lump on his head, but you were also planning to let the other boy off the hook?” you accuse, voice rising with some effort. Your voice has a tendency to draw low when your temper is flaring. It’s an intimidation tactic you'd learned from a while ago. It would probably be ill advised to use it on a man who looked like he was a second away from a heart attack.

Jameson leans forward, reaching out appeasingly.“Ma’am, we-”

“From what I recall, Gotham Academy has a strict zero tolerance policy on derogatory language, does it not?” You cut him off, voice suddenly vicious. You shift your body in front of Damian putting yourself between him and everyone else in the room. He bristles at the gesture but you and your habits aren’t exactly concerned with his pride.

“Ma’am I-“

“I rest my case. Please, feel free to contact Mr.Grayson-Wayne if you have more to say.” You settle a hand on Damian’s shoulder. You’re surprised he didn’t fight you or swat your hand away. Taking it as permission, you pull him closer to you as you leave the red faced woman and the paling man gob smacked and silent. Damian himself doesn’t make the sound as you made your way down the hall. You squeeze his shoulder gently hoping it comes across as a reassuring gesture. His posture does not loosen but you do not let him stray from you. You close your eyes as the elevator doors shut.

“I did not require your assistance.”

“I know.” Of course, he doesn’t. He is a Robin and an Al Ghul but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna get it. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, the dull beat only serving to irritate your nerves. You swear the traffic in Gotham was somehow infinitely worse than everywhere else in the world even with working traffic lights. Maybe that’s why there were so many crazy people here. Maybe Bruce should have invested his money on better roads. Maybe-

Your eyes slide towards Damian who is somehow shrinking and pressing into the side door. Still, his face is twisted skeptically and braced for a continuation to your statement. You looked heavenward not even hiding the weariness in your smile. The brat is truly a bat-- suspicion and all. You turn your body towards him, opening up your posture. You fold your leg and rest your chin on your arm. Damian meets your gaze head on, looking imperious as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture is artificial, probably uncomfortable from the weight of your attention.

You roll your shoulders and reshape your features, reconfiguring yourself from understanding to teasing. “I know. I know but you see, they needed telling off and your tiny gremlin ass isn’t scary enough. And, I promise I won’t tell Dickolas that you defended him so vehemently.” you wink, a conspiratorial grin spreading across your face. Damian straightens, his body is bowed like he was about to spring for your throat but the shape his limbs took on was more natural and seemingly relaxed. The knot in your shoulder loosens. You reach over and ruffle his hair again. He really is still a kid. You stare each other down. Your smile is as unwavering as his glower.

Both of your stomachs grumble. The sound was loud and abrasive in the closed space of the car. You check your watch and hum, shifting back into your seat. Wordlessly, you switch on your signal light.

You leaf through the pages of the thoroughly used book in your hands, eyes skimming through the blocks of texts not really absorbing any of it. You never really found the appeal in fiction. The stories are too neat compared to what you experienced daily. You suppose there is simplicity in them but you find that in nonfiction, the kind of books that explained the mechanics of things. They made sense of the world and were much more useful in your opinion. You’re much more interested in the messy scribbles on the margins, the etchings of a loud mind on yellowing pages. Jason’s notes were written in the same tone of voice he used when he spoke, deceptively layman but upon further inspection was frighteningly insightful. You smile at the little comments and complaints, the snarky little remarks. Remnants of the little boy he had been before. You frowned. You should probably give this back to him once you have the chance and maybe come up with some excuse of why you still have it. Or you can just keep it.

You look up at Damian who is drumming his fingers impatiently against the lacquered table. His posture is artificially relaxed, likely something he learned from the league or maybe all nervous gremlins do it. You look down at the book again. The sight reminds you of Jay. You tip your head, the loud thunk of your skull is felt more than heard since it was your bad ear that is pressed against the glass. The sound startles Damian who was deep in thought. You hold out the book to him. He must be bored waiting for your order. He pointedly ignores you.

"I don't need that childish drivel." He snipes. You click your teeth feeling a little defensive of the book.

You sound exactly like your grandfather, you think but have enough sense to keep it to yourself. No child needs to be compared to Ra's Al Ghul even if he is a brat.

"Not a fan of-" You look at the book's spine and frown. "-Robert Stevenson?" What kind of dork reads Robert Stevenson for fun? Oh wait, it's the same dork that quotes Shakespeare while bashing heads.

"I have no need for such things."

Of course, he didn’t.

"No, I suppose you don't need anything with the actual text but the margins are quite fascinating." You hold out the book to him again. His eyebrows shoot up looking at you skeptically as he reaches for it. There is no actual written indication that it was Jay's and the kid likely hasn't spent enough time with Jay to actually tell from the way it's written. You look out the window to turn your good ear to him, listening for any reactions he might have. Every now and then you hear a huff of amusement. You smother the smile threatening to form on your lips with your hand.

"Well, the person who owned this certainly had a lot to say." Damian says carefully, handing the book back.

"Jay really was a mouthy kid."

Damian looks at you, little face scrunching up in confusion. You suddenly notice just how easily the booth swallows him up. Why is he so tiny? "If this is Todd's, why do you have it?"

You clasp the book in your hands, your thumb tracing over the creases. "He leant me this book shortly before he died. He-- Well, I told him that I wasn't fond of adventure stories. I prefer books about science and culture. They're much more useful, yanno?" Damian gives a slight nod. You relax into your seat with his understanding. "Well, he thought it was just that I've never read a good one so he gave me this one. Never quite finished it though." you admit a little sheepish after realizing just how sentimental you felt. Your eyes trace over Damian's expression. It's clear that the sentimentality bled through your words and some childish part of you winces at the vulnerability of it. Damian says nothing and doesn't even sneer in derision.

You hum, the tune musical but offkey. “Jason, actually did what you did today awhile ago.” Just like that you begin down a rabbit hole telling the little gremlin about all the stupid shit the older bats have gotten into. And oh boy, there’s a lot.

“So do either of you want to explain what happened and why GAs headmaster called me sounding like he was gonna piss himself?”

“Hmmm, probably not ” you say around your spoonful of mahalabia, not even looking up from your book. Hilariously enough, Damian had also elected to leave Dick’s presence unacknowledged and busy with his own mahalabia. Dick scoot into your side of the booth, purposefully squishing you against the wall with a shiteating grin. He loops his arm around you and pulls you closer, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blanch and push half heartedly at his chest as he laughs. That laugh makes your heart warm and a relenting smile spreads across your features softening them. Your body twitches forward to kiss but you still when Dick freezes instead you plant a kiss on his cheek as well. Dick relaxes at the familiarity of it and you two settle down.

Damian stares at both of you befuddled. A heat creeps up your cheeks realizing that Dick is practically sitting on you. Dick, on the other hand, seems perfectly content with your current lack of personal space, so you leave it alone despite the incredulous look Damian is giving both of you. Dick snatches up your spoon taking a heap from your dessert. You make an offended noise in the back of your throat which he simply answers with another broad smile. Your lip twitches uncontrollably and your shoulders go slack.

“So what happened?”

You and Damian exchange a look. Damian rolls his eyes at you and you shrug at him performatively. “Nothing.” you two say in a chorus of nonchalance. It only succeeds in annoying Dick, so it was partially successful.

Dick pouts taking another bite of your desert. You stare in disbelief as the grownass man sitting next to you attempts to give you the puppy dog eyes as he eats your desert. You sign on exasperation because it's working and the bastard knows it. Richard John Grayson-Wayne is a manipulative asshole and you are a certified sucker.

You turn to Damian pleadingly begging him to please either help you or end you. Instead, he simply looks the two as if searching for an answer to a question forming in his mind. You run your hand over your face ready to concede when something clicks.

"Man-Bat got into GA and Damian fought him off." you say, praying Dick would catch on to the game. For a terrifying moment, he doesn’t. He blinks at you in confusion and your stomach sinks then a smile slowly spreads across his face lighting up every feature. Your heart swells at the sight.

"Bullshit. What was Man-Bat doing in GA?"

"Dunno,maybe bullying students. I don't know what bat creatures get up to." you say grinning. The picture becomes clear from every outlandish story. To your surprise, Damian joins in with a few vague details of his own giving even more details than you'd initially gathered.

Lunch passes pleasantly with outlandish stories and good food.

“NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne, New Face of Wayne Enterprises, Caught in a Torrid Love Affair with a Mystery Woman. Who Could this Exotic Beauty Be?”

“NEWS: Young Wayne Heir Being Extorted by Mystery Woman?”

“NEWS: Wayne Heir with Secret Family?”

Dick wants to evaporate somehow. He stares at the headlines mortified beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe the floor will be merciful and it’ll finally swallow him as Jason reads another headline in a ridiculous newsreel voice.

“No, no wait. This one is fucking priceless!”

“Jason, please, I am begging you. STOP.” Dick whines, his face flattening against his work table. Tim shrugs, an amused smile adorns his face. Dick is going to scream. “Tim, please please please, make him stooop.” Tim ignores Dick in favor of scrolling through his own tablet looking, frankly unsympathetic.

“Oh a tryst!”

“Jason, you are making it sound so much worse.”

“Dunno, big bird, some of these make it sound like you fucked her over a table in the restaurant.” Jason watches in absolute delight as his older brother attempts to merge with the work bench, the tanned skin of his neck and ears burning a bright shade of crimson. Tim snickers, unhelpfully. Dick loved that his younger brothers were getting along for once. He just hated that for some reason they just had to be united against him. “All I did was kiss her on the cheek and eat her food.”

Jason gasps theatrically, feigning fainting. “Premarital kissing?! Dick, how could you? What’s next? Premarital hand holding? Think of the children.” Jason exclaims, dramatically pointing to Damian who at this point had been ignoring the ruckus Jason was causing.

“Jason, you’re awful and you’re being extremely dramatic.”

“Dick, you don’t exactly have any room to talk in that department.”

“Yeah, Mr. Pretty Man Down, Baby Bird has a point.” Jason says smugly as he offers Tim a fist bump which Tim reciprocates by shaking Jason's fist, a joking smile on his face. Jason snorts as if getting the joke or whatever movie reference this was from.

Tim's face folds into a barely held back smile. The laughter bubbling in the back of his throat straining his features. “I will say it is really funny that they didn’t recognize Damian.”

“You know how they are. They probably came up with something like the whole Damian being Bruce’s kid was actually just a cover up for Dick.” Somewhere in the background Damian makes a very displeased noise but Dick can't be bothered to lift his head to check.

“Please no. That doesn’t even-”

“Here’s one, NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne’s Baby Mama? Who is this mysterious woman?” Tim reads out flatly.

“The PR team is going to kill me. No, wait. Y/n is going to kill me first.”

“She won’t. She probably finds this hilarious.”

“How would she even find this funny?”

“Well, she does enjoy your suffering- Oh shit. This one might piss her off.” Jason clears his throat, sliding back into the newsreel voice. “DICK GRAYSON, HANDSOME PLAYBOY - WITH YET ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND - WILL HE EVER SETTLE DOWN?”

Dick is half tempted to throw his own tablet at the wall. What did he do to deserve this? You certainly don’t.

“Hey, at least, they called you handsome.” Tim laughs placatingly. It doesn’t work, of course.

Dick looks up at his little brother ruefully. “Oh yeah because the stuff about my looks was definitely the issue.”

“Well considering your morning routine...”

“I haven’t even been on a date so who are these other girlfriends?!”

“Well, me and Jason thought the same thing.” Tim shoots down sneering. When did his sweet baby brother turn to the dark side? Likely, Jason’s influence but deep down he knows Tim has always been capable of evil. Jason is cackling proudly.

“I don't see why you're concerning yourself with this drivel.” Damian says, swiping the tablet right in front of Dick forcing him to look up. Dick smiles at him wearily. “Dami, it’s a little hard when a photo of me kissing y/n on the cheek is plastered everywhere with weird headlines.” Damian tilts his head considering it but he shakes his head muttering something about pointlessness.

“Goddammit, Disco Stick!” The sound of your voice ringing out into the bunker sends their banter crashing to a halt. Dick feels his heart jump to his throat. He-- This was how he was going to die and for once he wasn’t sure he deserved it or not. You stand at the doorway haloed in bright light. At least, his angel of death would be the prettiest one, he thinks-- all the oxygen leaving his lungs.

Crumpled in your fist was a newspaper. Dick can feel his brothers take a step back as you draw near. Your footfalls were as steady as a pulse which made Dick’s own heart rate ratchet up. Your face is carefully impassive the way it always is when your anger was dosed with something else. Dick is sincerely hoping Jason is right about you being amused by the headlines.

You stop in front of him, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. You glower down at him frankly looking murderous before you snort and your face breaks into a smile. The thick tension in the air dissipates and the room releases its collective breath. The smile on your face grows even brighter. Nope, this is how Dick dies, his breath catching in his lungs as his mind fizzes out from the sight of your smile.

“I’m sorry?” Dick lifts himself off the table just barely, still bracing for any sudden wave of anger that will, justifiably, roll over you at some point.

You lean your body on to the spot next to him, letting the table support your weight. Straightening the newspaper in your hands, you frown. “I look terrible in this.”

“You look beautiful.” Dick blurts out. You raise your brow at him incredulously. Jason folds over trying to hold back laughter, his shoulders trembling. Tim just shrinks from second hand embarrassment.

“No, she is correct. She looks repulsive.” Damian says flatly as he snatches the paper from you.

You let out a breathy laugh. “To be fair, anyone would look repulsive next to professional pretty boy Dickie Wayne.” There was no sharpness in your teasing. You look at the photo over Damian’s shoulder. It was a cute photo actually. Dick’s arm loops around your shoulder as he gives you a kiss on your cheek as Damian blanches at Dick’s very public display of affection. It was hilariously easy to see where they got the idea that you two were a couple. You weren’t. You haven’t been for awhile. The thought wrenches something a dull ache inside you. You flatten your lips preventing the edges from dipping into a frown.

A look crosses between Jason and Tim. Tim leans over, asking in a hushed whisper, “I thought they were back together.”

“Dunno they act like it.” Jason shrugs watching your movement. As if to prove his point, you and Dick lean into each other’s space as you bicker about the merits of Gothamite photographers. Jason is half tempted to shove you two together.

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, finally leaning away from Dick.

“Nothing-”

“They were pondering the state of your relationship. I myself have been pondering it.”

For a moment, your eyes meet. For a moment, you are back in a drab hotel in Moscow. For a moment, you are crying your heart out in his arms trying to push him away.

You click your teeth and stare Damian in the eyes not entirely sure what kind of emotions they were betraying. “We were a thing.” Damian’s brow shoots up. You hear someone’s hand slap against their forehead.

You flush wanting to disappear but hold your stance. You hear Dick chuckle beside you as he stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Something in you eases with the closeness, like a gap being filled. “We used to be a couple.” Dick supplies, saving you from your flailing. You tap your finger against the back of his hand as a silent thank you. He taps yours twice in reciprocation. You look down trying to hide a smile.

Jason and Tim look at each other again and nod.

“We should probably go.” Jason says carrying Damian under his arm.

“Todd, unhand me! We are not done here!”

“We’ll see you two later.” Tim waves giving Dick a knowing smile. Dick’s heart jumps up to his throat while his stomach drops to the floor. Is this really the time for his brother’s to play cupid?

You lean in, letting your body press into Dick’s side as you listen to their footsteps fade away. Your head settling on his shoulder hand bracing you against the workbench. You let the stillness settle and make everything around you more solid.

Dick shifts a bit, his fingers lacing in with yours. The gesture makes your heart twinge, the chasm in your chest yawning with longing. You swallow. The air is thick with unspoken words like smoke clogging up your lungs. You think that if you could just pluck the right one out of thin air, you could clear the air.

‘I love you’ itches in the back of your throat but what right did you have to say that to him even after all this time.

Beside you, Dick is smiling and relishing your presence. The silver glint of your earring winking at him from beneath your hair. He had gotten you that on your first date, a little souvenir you got to commemorate the occasion.

Dick pivots in front of you making your breath catch. His free hand brushing your hair behind your ear revealing the silver robin on your ear. Silver robins. You had at the time laughed at the absurdity of it but here they were years later. Dick’s hands settle on either side of you boxing you in against the table. Even when he’s got you trapped like this, you feel at ease knowing Dick would never hurt you. Dick leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours. Your pulse is loud in your ears. You lean your forehead against his, eyes sliding close soaking up the contact.

“It’s always been you.” Dick says breathlessly. The words do not register, too dreamlike in their conception. You always hoped and wished that you could take it back, that you had never left, that he would love you the same way he did before but you were never foolish enough to hold on to things like that with both hands. Yet here Dick was whispering things that you only let yourself dream of.

“It’s always been you.” He repeats as if the repetition could make it more real. You swallow the lump in your throat trying to find your voice but you’re afraid that once you speak, the room would catch fire and the dream would dissolve into harsh reality.

Dick gently cups your face and for a moment you let yourself be lost in the sea of blue. The stinging in your eyes makes you blink even if you don’t want to. You lick your lips as if somewhere on them were the right words.

You can’t even fathom the combination of words that could encapsulate the cocktail of longing and love you felt for him.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip as your eyes focus on his lips. You swallow again your throat feeling thick even as you lean into his space, pushing off the work bench. Your nose rubbing against his, his long lashes fluttering against your cheek and tickling your skin. Dick leans in, his lips on yours, the pressure barely enough to make contact. You twitch forward, lips melting against his. The world around you stills and disintegrates leaving only him in its wake.

The kiss is all tender softness, a promise of love and loyalty quietly exchanged between you. A delicate push and pull. Undemanding yet uncompromising in its gentle intensity.

You both pull back, only barely. Your skins still thrum with hunger for contact. Dick leans in again, his lips brushing against yours making them tingle at the sensation. Murmured breaths exchanged between you. This time you both find the right words.

Dick turning to reader seeing the familiar glint of her earing

“I still love you.”

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I was thinking it was just them in the cave standing next to each others fingers twining with each other leaning into each other's space

he brushes the strands of her hair away

After brushing her hair away he presses his forehead against hers and he just kind of comes out with it

like he'd been holding back on saying it but couldn't anymore

Why not have the reader do something like this?

What if she nudges her nose against his? Or rubs her nose against his, like an Eskimo kiss? And it’s silent, her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. They say in Inuit, when you feel eyelashes stroke on your skin like that, it’s a way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it.

And maybe Dick knows that? Without her actually saying the words and he just smiled and captures her lips in a delicate kiss. And when they pull back, they both say it at the same time against each other’s lip, all hushed and murmured?

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Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #Damian Wayne #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #dc x reader #dc reader insert #merc!reader

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deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021- The Darkness I Know

Chapter 2

No. 2 - TALKING IS OVERRATED

garotte | choking | gagged

Fic Summary: After the world as she knew it was destroyed by the corruption of Malice, Zelda allies herself with her saviors from captivity: a disgruntled former governor, an alert paramedic, a cocky pilot, an excessively overt optimist, and a blind strategist. While the corrupted, malice-filled Yiga Clan looks for revenge on them, Zelda has to learn how important it is to find family in others... and how much more dangerous the stakes become if she fails to protect them.

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In the darkness, the memories of her time before finding safety in Mabe Village crept up to haunt her tenfold.

There were days when she’d been out in the world with her group, clinging to a knife in case a possessed monster felt hell-bent on attacking them with no regard for its own life and safety. She remembered all the fog that had taken over the air, alerting everyone to a concentration of Malice nearby. She remembered touching it for the first time, and the painful burn she felt from the simplest of touches.

While on the road, she’d taken to scavenging every piece of equipment she could find. She couldn’t breathe well, but once her coughing fit subsided, she stumbled over to every piece of debris she could find amidst the wreckage on the road until a warm water bottle rolled against her feet.

Never had she consumed anything so fast.

Until now.

It had been nearly a week since she’d been taken from her home, a home she’d made for herself, despite all odds. Now, she was in a long room with tall, vaulted ceilings, watching the red-suited Yiga pass back and forth for hours at a time each day as her only means of entertainment. Dorian hadn’t come by, and there was no one around to hear her when she called out, hoping for an answer before the Yiga could bang the bars of her glorified cage to shut her up.

She was given a small bowl of grey gruel and barely a few sips of water to sustain her each day; barely enough to satisfy her.

But not this day.

Someone set down a giant slab of meat and an incredibly large drink in a golden goblet adorned with rhinestones. Something inside her warned her against unquestioningly eating it, but her survival instincts kicked in, and she needed food and drink. So, she hastily tore into the meal and drank her drink down.

Well, until she threw up.

“Eating too fast, are we?” a smooth voice asked from the shadows cast by the angle of the tall windows.

Zelda coughed as the unfamiliar sensation of her full stomach made her immediately regret every bite. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve before backing away from the bars of her cell, despite the approaching footsteps and her burning curiosity to see who it was.

Her ragged breathing filled the silence that was only shared by the sound of boots against the ground. Heavy boots, from the sound of them; someone larger. It took everything in her not to cough; she didn’t want to seem weak, ill, or fragile, so, she held her breath and waited.

A tall man bent down and peered at her through the bars before reaching his hand inside and taking her scraps away.

Zelda had her arms crossed in an attempt to look defiant, but she merely managed to look like she was concealing her stomachache worse than she was before.

Yellow eyes peered at her from the darkness. It had been days since she saw anyone’s eyes. And the man had red hair, long and flowing down his back, untamed and unruly to a point that it was clear this was a conscious decision not to take better care of it. She could see knots balled up that would be something awful to brush out.

And when he smiled, toothy and wide, Zelda shuddered.

“Dorian has been speaking highly of you. He’s convinced me that you’re worth keeping around. You must be sick of being in here, aren’t you? I can get you a room. One of my people was living in your village and says you’re a valued member of the community, a hard worker, and someone with a skill set we’re in dire need of. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

Food? A bed? Yes. Yes, she was interested. Any catch they had, any thoughts of escape… all of it could wait until she was thinking clearly, so she nodded, her throat still too dry to do her the favor of speaking.

“Come on then,” the man said, opening the cell.

Zelda cautiously made her way to the front, shaking hard as she did. The man was taller than he appeared, with Zelda barely coming to his neck. He was wide and muscular, and a threat if she’d ever seen one.

He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, leading her from the doorway and towards the hall, urging her forward when she just wanted to stop. The rocking of each step unsettled her already precarious stomach, but she became accustomed to walking again after three days of her small cell, and started to feel it less and less.

“Have you heard of us?” the man asked as they walked. “The Yiga Clan?”

She had. Almost everyone had.

The Yiga were known for their ruthless tactics, fighting skills, and stealth. It hardly surprised her to know that someone in her village was a spy for the elite organization.

The fact that it was Dorian surprised her, but not the fact that they were there at all.

They’d been around for years, but when the Malice spread, they all but threw themselves into it, succumbing to the power it held and fighting to harness it, no matter the cost. No member of the Yiga Clan was any longer affected by the substance that still spilled all along Hyrule Field and infested former towns, cities, and villages. The roads were untravellable. Small communities of survivors were mostly relegated to stay in an area they deemed safe. But not the Yiga.

That was her life. The Yiga were free from those constraints.

“Yes,” she croaked out, clearing her throat before trying again. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Zelda shuddered again, both from the sudden cold of their long walk to the eerie tone of his voice. “I’m Zelda,” she said in an attempt at building rapport with this horrifying beast of a human.

He hummed. “I know.”

Dorian. Zelda shook her head and kept her eyes down. Obviously he knew.

And with his silence, she realized he wasn’t about to offer up that same information.

“What do you have in mind for me? I can work on whatever it is you need me to.” Her throat burned, tightening up at the rasp of her words.

“Oh, this and that. You’ll rest before we put you to work. Can you fight?”

“I can survive.”

He grinned up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Zelda winced at his comment and looked around for danger. All she saw was a man with blue hair in a cell of his own, watching her. He was the only potential threat beside the man with her.

“Is there a test?” she choked out, needing more water.

“Everything is a test, Zelda.”

He stopped them both and moved in front of her, watching her with little more than interest. And then Zelda realized why.

Her throat, burning from its desire for water, wasn’t dry; it was swelling.

And she suddenly couldn’t breathe.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw au #modern au #post apocalyptic #link #zelda #zelink #whumptober #whumptober2021 #whumptober 2021 #no.2 #choking #whump #ganondorf #yiga clan #revali #malice #writing

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kyber-queen · 4 years

Text

Like Real People Do (Rex x Reader) Pt. 3

Summary: Jedi!reader and Rex fall in love but are separated by the war. They meet again two years later, weeks before the Siege of Mandalore. In this chapter, Rex and Reader are prepping for a mission on an outer rim planet. Some fluff, slight angst, Rex gets to use a lightsaber because I say so. Italics signify a flashback in this fic.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Mentions of children/family planning ??, insecure Rex, k*sses, mentions of blasters n violence against droids, mentions of alcohol

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie this is probably my favorite chapter yet. It’s a little longer, but I think it’s worth it :) Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

Previous | Next

****************************************

After your less than satisfying encounter in the maintenance closet, you had made an early retirement to your quarters to sulk. You slept, but your dreams were ridden with visions of a certain bleach-blond captain. You awoke the next morning ill-rested and heartsick.

You showed up late to your first tactical meeting with the upper ranks of the 501st in a disgruntled mess of dark undereyes and wrinkled robes. If Rex noticed your sleep-deprived state, he made no mention of it. You had positioned yourself strategically in the back of the room, precisely so if you peeked between the admirals, you could clearly see Rex discussing troop formations with General Skywalker. His structured brow was furrowed, and you noted the way he gestured at the maps as he made his point. He was so much more confident now, so much more self-assured than that often-anxious shiny you remembered from training drills two years ago. Maybe that was why he gave you the cold shoulder yesterday—had he outgrown you? Two years was a long time, especially during a war. Did he find someone new? Your heart burned at the thought. You hadn’t even tried to move on—at times, at your lowest points, you considered it, but you never gave up on him. You had broken your code for him. You had broken it every day since you met him, and yet here he was, the picture of cordial indifference. You were attached, deeply and painfully. Did he still care about you?

“Commander, I can hear your gears turning—any input?” Skywalker looked at you expectantly.

You eased your tired features into a placating smile. “Looks good to me, General,”.

“Perfect. Rex, you’ll go with the commander. I want you two waiting just outside the village. The Separatists should arrive within around two hours of landing. Comm me when you see the Separatist forces coming, and you guys cut down as many of the first wave as possible. I’ll circle around with the rest of the 501st and we’ll finish off the rest from behind. All clear?”

You nod in assent as Rex answers with a decisive, “Yes, sir,”.

***

Rex was going to have to have a conversation with his general after this. Your very first mission with the 501st, and Skywalker had paired you with Rex on a glorified stakeout of all things. Rex was pissed. He had decided as soon as he found out you would be consulting with the 501st that he would keep his distance. He knew it wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t seen each other in years—war makes love near impossible. He was more upset with himself for falling for a Jedi. It was against the law for either of you to have an attachment to each other. Rex had fallen in love, and it was a stupid, shitty idea. He had spent the better part of two years trying to bury his memories of you, and just as he was beginning to succeed, here you were creeping back into his mind. Just the sight of you threw him back to two years ago—back when he was really, truly happy. Rex was built for war, nothing more. The problem with you was that being with you made him think otherwise. When you were together, you would always talk about ‘after the war’. Rex knew that as a clone, there really wouldn’t be an after. You, with your altruism and soft smiles and gentle touches were everything Rex didn’t need.

Rex walked to the pod that would take the pair of you to the Separatist-threatened planet. You were already seated. You thumbed the grip of your lightsaber, and Rex recognized the gesture—it was a habit whenever you were nervous. His eyes were locked on you, debating whether or not he should say something despite his earlier promise to not get involved. You broke the silence for him.

“I can feel you staring, Rex. Talk to me,”.

You could always tell what he was thinking. As your friendship first blossomed, it unnerved him, but as your paths intertwined more and more he found it a comfort to have you understand him so well without him even saying a word. Rex met your eyes, and his stomach clenched. You were still so beautiful. He looked away

“Just thinking about the campaign, sir,”.

Your heart ached. Every bone in your body was screaming, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,” and yet he called you sir. He addressed you as a superior, another link in the chain of command. He really had moved on, hadn’t he? You bit your lip, the sharp pain of your teeth against the tender skin attempting to draw your attention away from your torturous thoughts. You had a mission to complete. You peeked out the porthole, and you saw the terrain approaching far faster than normal.

You landed with a crash. You were jostled from your seat, your head smacking the metal wall painfully. As the ringing in your skull crescendoed, you took stock of your darkened surroundings through your blurred vision. The lighting in the pod must have been damaged during your landing. You ignited your lightsaber, illuminating Rex with its soft glow. He stood up and rolled his shoulder experimentally, his nose scrunching in pain.

Your brows furrowed, “Are you alright?’

“I’m fine,” He grunted. He felt his way along the walls. “Exit’s been jammed shut, though,”

You searched his eyes in the dim lighting, another pang of longing reverberating through your chest. You dismissed the sensation and plunged your lightsaber into the wall of the pod, freeing yourselves. You emerged from the battered pod, your head pounding as your eyes adjusted. It was bright, with the triad suns beating down on you relentlessly. You checked your positioning system—you had landed a mere 15-minute walk from your stakeout site. You watched as Rex eased himself out of the pod. He groaned, his hand cradling his right arm. You handed him his positioning chip, and the two of you set off towards the village outskirts.

You noticed his hand lingered on his right shoulder, and he would grimace from time to time when it jostled. You reached your hand out to his plastoid-covered shoulder. “Rex, let me—”

“I’m fine,”.

His tone was sharp and dangerous, affecting you like a slap to the face. You sucked in a breath, and walked the rest of the path in silence. The planet was beautiful—you were surrounded on all sides by strange golden grasses that swayed with the breeze. Its beauty did nothing to distract you from the man by your side.

You arrived at the meeting point and immediately settled yourself against the large boulder meant as your cover. Rex sat across from you, leaning against a smaller rock. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment and swallowing thickly. You traced the sharp line of his jaw with your eyes, following down to the thick cords of muscle in his neck. You contemplated another attempt at offering him some bacta spray, but considering his earlier response, decided against it. When did Skywalker say the Separatists would arrive? Two hours?

You spent around an hour in silence. You meditated, as General Secura had taught you. Time moved thickly around you, your aura burning bright as it cut through the hours and seconds. With your deep focus came little flashes of memories.

You saw Rex, smiling. His golden skin was warm against the soft sheets. His thumb traced the apple of your cheek. You grinned.

“What do you want to do, Rex? After this is all over?”

He paused, his hand resting heavy on your jaw. “I don’t know, cyare. Guess I never really thought about it,”. His eyes flicked over your gentle smile and bright eyes. “I’d wanna be with you, though,” he whispered. You’re everything he could ever want. He’d never loved anything so much, and he knew he’d never love anyone else the way he loved you. What the hell did he do to deserve you? “What about you?”

“My parents—I barely remember them now—had a house on Naboo. We could live there, just us. No war, no fighting. It’s so beautiful there, Rex. The grass is long and tall—as a child, I’d play outside for hours just soaking up the sunlight. It’s a good place for raising children,”. Your face heated as you said the last part.

“Raising children, eh?” Rex tilted your chin, and you lifted your gaze to his eyes. You nodded slowly. “With me?” His eyes shone in the morning sunlight, his brow furrowed.

“Yes, Rex. Who else?” Rex’s expression eased, and you pressed your lips to each of his cheeks, followed by a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. Rex sighed contentedly. He had no clue why you were with a shiny like him—he was one of a million genetically and physically identical men. He was sure that eventually you’d realize just how much better you could do than a clone, but until that day he’d savor every precious moment with you.

“You’re gonna be a great parent, one day, cyar’ika,”.

“You will, too, Rex,”.

You jolted out of your trance. It was just your luck that Rex had infiltrated the one escape you had from your relentless thoughts of him. You opened your eyes to find him studying your face. He averted his gaze quickly.

“Rex,” you called.

He fiddled with the straps of his armor.

“Rex,”.

He dropped his hands to his sides with a harsh sigh. “Would you just stop it?”

You were stunned. “Rex, I—”

“I spent two fucking years trying to forget I ever loved you. I was nothing, I was nobody, and you were this—this ideal being. I had no fucking clue why you gave me the time of day, but I let myself fall for you anyway. When we left for our tours, I broke. You were the first real thing, the first good thing I ever had, and you were gone. I was sure I was gonna die over there—and you wouldn’t have even known if I had. It was so much easier to believe that you had moved on, that you were through with me. Now you’re here and you’re alive and I—” his voice broke, “I don’t know what to do,”. He met your gaze, and his eyes glistened. His voice was barely a whisper, “You were always the rational one. Please tell me what to do,”.

Your wide eyes watered. You turned your head to the golden fields and let out a tiny sob. What the hell do you answer to that? Just as you opened your mouth to speak, you spotted what seemed to be a thousand metal heads just over a rolling hill. The separatists. You hastily wiped your eyes and took a deep breath. This would have to wait.

“The Separatists are here,” your voice wavered more than you would have liked. “I’ll comm the General,”. You sniffed, rubbing your eyes again. Get it together, you thought. You were a Jedi Master, for gods’ sake. Ever since returning to Coruscant, you’d been an emotional trainwreck. You were starting to see why the council discouraged attachments.

You allowed Rex a moment to collect himself, turning to face the oncoming droids as the two of you prepared in silence. The metallic clang of their footsteps grew louder and louder. Rex slipped his helmet back on over his head and unholstered his blasters.

“It’s your call, Commander. When d’ya wanna go?”

You looked back over your shoulder at him, and you were instantly thrown back to the hours of training exercises you had completed together. You grinned.

“Think you can take down the battle tank over there?” You motioned to the gargantuan hunk of steel situated right in the middle of a sea of battle droids.

The competitive edge you had so dearly missed was back in Rex’s voice.

“You know I never miss,”.

“Race you there,”. And with that, you were off. The two of you flew down the hill, cutting down the droids as if they were made of straw. You swung, decapitating a droid and ducking as Rex put a blaster hole through the one taking aim at you from behind. You worked well together, always did. The rest of the 501st seemed to be making easy work of the droids from behind.

“Rex, blaster!”

Rex tossed one of his blasters into the air, and you force-pulled it into your grasp in an instant. You fired off three quick shots at one of the tanks, damaging the traction treads. Rex looked over at the tank, and recognized the maneuver you had initiated in an instant. He took off for the tank, and called your name once he was just yards from its base.

“Saber!”

You switched off your saber and hurled it in Rex’s direction. He had barreled past at least ten lines of troops, snatching your lightsaber from the air before igniting it and plunging it into the battle tank’s generator while simultaneously firing off a few rapid shots at the droids. The droids’ main attention, as planned, was on you, and you were beginning to feel the heat. You force-pulled your lightsaber, still ignited, from Rex’s grasp and into a line of battle droids before its heavy weight met your palm again.

“Blaster!”

You tossed Rex his blaster, and he caught it with ease. With your lightsaber in hand, you began cutting a path to Rex, who had holed up against the decommissioned tank.

“Need to get me one of those,” Rex motioned to your lightsaber with a grin.

You shook your head with a laugh, deflecting a blaster shot as Rex took aim at the next line of droids.

It was your fault. You got distracted. Something about the focus in Rex’s masked stare as he picked off the droids one-by-one pulled your attention away just long enough for one of the droids to press the cool metal of its blaster against your neck. Before you could react, Rex fired two quick shots into its head.

“Told you, cyare, I never miss,”.

You missed this. The nicknames, the banter, working together like this. It felt good. It felt like coming home. You snuck one last glance at Rex before sprinting out from your cover to cut down the next row of droids.

Rex was fucked. Did you realize he called you cyare? It just slipped out—something about being here with you, fighting next to you—it brought him back to two years ago. He shook his head, firing at a droid that had pointed its blaster at you. He was done with pretending he didn’t care. He still had no idea what to do, or where this would go, but he could figure that out later.

You finished off the last droid, looking back at Rex with an easy smile before waving to General Skywalker. Rex jogged over to you, pulling you back behind the tank and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the 501st.

“Rex, wha—”

He ripped off his helmet, letting it fall to the ground as he pulled you into a kiss. His hand fell to the small of your back, and you practically collapsed into him. His lips were hungry against yours—he was all tongue and teeth and desperation. He needed this. You needed this. You raked your nails through his close-cropped hair, drawing a little groan from deep in his chest. His hands were everywhere—your hair, your neck, your waist—

“Rex, where are you? Are you injured?”

For the second time today, Rex was going to kill his general. He pulled away from you reluctantly, his hand lingering on your waist. You take his hand, and press your lips to his palm.

“We should go,”. Rex nods. “Meet me in my quarters tonight—you still like firewhiskey?”

“Rex—are you over here?”

You meet Rex’s eyes, and he smiles. A real smile. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“See you tonight,”.

********************************************

Like Real People Do Taglist: @pinkiemme @callme-eds @dinpoe

#captain rex #captain rex x y/n #ct 7567 #commander rex #rex x you #the clones #the 501st #rex x reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #the clone wars

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

Commission work - Harry Hook x Darling! Reader - two parter - unpredictably adorable - part 2

commissioner @thebookbakery

Since you were a child, your mind was constantly overthinking, every single possibility, good or bad, bombarding your mind about everything and nothing at the same time.

-what if I never live up to my mom's expectations-

-if I don’t pass this test everyone will hate me-

-they aren’t really my friend; they just feel sorry for me-

-I need to shut up I’m talking to much-

-they are ignoring me; they must hate me-

-everyone is faking-

-if I’m not careful I'll cut my finger and then I'll have to get surgery to remove my hand because I was too careless-

Yeah…it got tiring after a while.

Everything made sense when you were 10 and were finally diagnosed with anxiety, everything got a little bit easier to deal with after that, one of your tactics was just pretending your best friend Piper was talking you down

-I forgot to turn off the oven, and I’m going to burn my mom's house down, and I’m going to go to jail and-

‘no, you didn’t, you always check every single time, twice, you turned it off, now shut up before I smack you, I’m trying to eat this churro.’

It always loomed in the back of your mind, though hanging out with your closest friends did deafen the noise a bit, but it was always there.

You had little toys to help you focus but you were always looked at oddly when you had a little cube with millions of buttons on it so once again, your anxiety won out and you picked at your fingers, bit your lip, rubbed the fabric of your clothes between your fingers, and sometimes dug your nail into your thumb to distract yourself from your own brain.

Crushes, were one of your ultimate weakness, even the thought of someone you had a crush on sent you into a spiral, your brain would tell you they didn’t even know you existed, that they hated you and faking being nice, that your crush would never go anywhere.

Now you only had two crushes your whole life.

One from when you were little, Piper, but that didn’t last long (After you saw her eat a caterpillar bleh) and EX-prince Ben himself, that one had lasted a whole two years, and while you had been his friend before your crush grew, that didn’t stop your brain from shoving those random piercing thoughts into you.

And now, there was another one.

Harry, freaking, Hook. Son of Captain Hook himself, the villain of your mother's story.

And he was the sweetest thing you had ever encountered, you gushed to jane about his little nose scrunched when he grinned, how his tongue poked out of his lips slightly when he concentrated, when he fluffed up his already floofy hair when he was frustrated.

It was just all too much for your anxious little self, it took all your might to keep yourself from bolting away from the handsome pirate.

You sighed, splashing cold water against your face and blindly grabbing for your towel and patting your face dry. You felt your face heat up as you thought back to the day before, in study hall, when Harry ever so gently placed his thumb on your chin to stop you from chewing on your lip.

You let out a long sigh/squeak as you grabbed your bathroom counter and sunk down into a squat, puffing your cheeks as you tried to calm yourself down. “I’m so doomed” you muttered to yourself, this crush on Harry was worse than the one on Piper OR Ben.

With the two aforementioned crushes, you never imagined it going any farther than dating, so imagine your internal embarrassment when one day you realized you were daydreaming about being buried into Harry's side as you slept in on a weekend in your very own place, living together with three dogs and two cats, and four birds, with two guest rooms specifically for Uma and Gil.

It was nice to dream about but once the dark shadow that was your anxiety reared its ugly head and whispered horrid thoughts about Harry’s “true” feelings about you, it was harder to enjoy your daydreams.

-he’s just using me to get revenge~-

-he’s just like his father, a filthy, cheating pirate-

-he’s faking everything-

-he flirts with everyone; I am nothing special-

You knew it was all bullcrap, even your own mother had met harry (at her request) and happily told you that he was nothing like his dad, and one of the sweetest boys she had ever met, even piper and Peter themselves, liked harry.

But like always, your brain never liked to listen to others and always took a darker train of thought.

You shook your head out of thought and stood, walking back into your room and grabbing your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and grabbing your keys, slipping out of your dorm room and locking it behind you, checking twice to ease your mind.

“hey (y/n)” you flinched as you spun around, letting out a sharp sigh as you realized Uma was the one to call out to you, she rose her brow, a small smirk on her face “sorry, thought you heard me walk up to you”

“you-you’re fine” you smiled back, huffing as the girl tossed her arm over your shoulder and started walking with you to the cafeteria.

“hear the rumor that Mrs.Popin is pop quizzing us in algebra today?”

“she is?” you asked, calm as could be on the outside, but once again your mind started running

-what if it's something we haven’t covered yet? Or what if I wasn’t paying attention to the subject?! What if I accidentally check the wrong one! What if-

Uma tugged you into the seat next to her, picking up a clementine and peeling it open, offering you a slice, shrugging as you declined “suit yourself, yeah, I’m wondering how Harrys gonna do, with his problem with numbers after all”

“oh right, his dyscalculia” you muttered, mind now running wild worrying for harry. “I think he’ll be fine, Mrs.Popin is lenient with him, and she lets all of us take the tests over and over again until we get a passing grade”

“yeah” Uma hummed, chewing on another slice “waffles or pancakes today?”

“I heard It’ was French toast~” Harry purred, plopping down next to you and leaning into your space once again, setting your face on fire and cutting off your voice as usual. “you okay (y/n)?” you whipped around to look at Harry with wide eyes, that….that was the first time he had ever called you by your name, it was always your last name.

“I-yes?” you shrugged, looking down at the table and picking at it “I’m fine”

Harry just hummed and leaned away from you, starting a conversation with Uma about the upcoming math quiz.

Your mind whirled as you processed the fact that he called you by your first name. but thankfully it never went anywhere as the bell for breakfast being served rang throughout the room. Uma tapped your arm, hurrying you to the line to grab the hot and ready food before it was gone.

You grabbed your preferred bread and usual toppings, sighing happily as you noticed your favorite drink was in stock this morning. You grabbed the bottle and tossed in on your tray, following after Uma as she went down the sides line, grabbing a handful of bacon for herself.

After dodging the oncoming breakfast crowd, you, Harry, Gil, and Uma finally settled back at your table. Evie, Jane, and Dizzy joining you moments later “morning~” Jane sang, poking your cheek with a ‘boop’ and starting to eat her breakfast. “oh (y/n), the planning committee is needed in the gym later today, about prom n stuff”

“kay” you muttered, quickly going through your slices of French toast and gulping down your drink “still don’t know how I got roped into the planning committee in the first place” you laughed to yourself, you hardly spoke during the meetings, you were more the errand girl and the one who wrote down what needed to happen as everyone else actually planned.

Jane giggled and patted your shoulder, turning her attention back to the conversation of the table, to which you weren’t bothering to pay attention to.

You dug into your bag and pulled out your notebook, going over your previous notes for math to prepare for the quiz later that day.

Sometimes Jane and Harry would bump into you randomly, Harry's fingers brushing your arm when he would reach for something across the table, you did your best to keep the heat from your face.

At some point harry gently probed your shoulder, making you squeak from surprise, unexpecting of the touch as you looked to harry with wide eyes. He gave a soft smile and nodded towards the doors “bell rung for class darlin’, don’t want yeh ta be late” you quickly stood, yelping as your knee bashed against the table.

“ooow” you bent over slightly, palming your knee as you felt the pain bloom across it. “shit”

“wow” Harry chuckled, grabbing your bags and slinging them over his shoulder “never heard yeh swear before darlin’, come on, ill escort yeh” he placed his hand on the small of your back, and lead you toward your first class.

While you appreciated Harry's chivalry, your mind….was not helping.

-everyone is staring at me-

-they are going to think it's odd he has his hand on me-

-everyone is staring at us-

-everyone is going to think it’s weird that Harry is around me-

-EVERYONE IS STAR-

“here we are” Harry thankfully interrupted your train of thought as he handed you back your bag and gestured to your English class “I’ll see yeh later darlin’” he winked at you and strut away, leaving you with your usual burning face and fidgeting fingers.

You sighed, walking into class and hurrying to your seat, ignoring the imaginative eyes on you as you took out your notebook.

The sound of your pen quickly tapping on your clipboard was the only thing that kept you from screaming at everyone.

It was just…too…loud…so many voices at once, all speaking at different volumes and all needing different things, many of them speaking at you, all too much for you to handle.

You gave one look at jane and she nodded, taking your clipboard and walking into the crowd of planners, distracting them as you exited the gym, heading for your room to calm down.

You rubbed your chest and focused on controlled breathing. Everything felt so tight, like something was sitting on your chest as you walked through the halls, fingers gripping your skirt to ground yourself.

You stumbled a bit as a barrage of screaming hit you, you tuned a bit, seeing two of your classmates that you never bothered to learn the names of screaming at each other in the hallway.

Your ears began to ring as you stared at them, unable to continue onto your room. one of the boys looked away from his friend, glaring right at you. “OI WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN AT!” he screamed, hands balling into fists as he seemed to look into your soul.

You let out a breathless squeak, bolting down the hall, sliding as you took a quick corner and continued to run where ever.

Your original destination was lost, mind yelling at you to hide.

-THEY ARE FOLLOWING ME-

-HIDE-

-THEY ARE GOING TO HURT ME-

-HIDE-

-IM GOING TO DIE-

-HIDE-

You gasped for breath, letting a scream as you slammed into a wall that wasn’t there a moment ago, you slid down to your side, curling up into a ball and letting out choked sobs as the world went dark around you.

You could feel yourself passing out but you couldn’t get a grip on yourself.

You were having a panic attack but you couldn’t do a thing to make it go away, whenever they happened one of your friends was always there to ground you, always helping you come back down to earth.

You couldn’t breathe, air only leaving you as you gasped. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard a voice, but you couldn’t recognize it as whoever it was grabbed onto your shoulders and tried to lift you up.

You felt yourself screech and lash out, your fist hitting something almost solid, whoever it was didn’t flinch and trailed their hands down your arms, grabbing gently onto your hands.

“hey-hey” they whispered, breaking through the chaos of your mind “hey, it's okay, you’re okay. nothings here. you’re safe. no one’s going ta hurt yeh”

You forced your eyes open, and through your blurry visions you saw Harry staring back at you with a soft smile “hey darlin’ can yeh breathe with meh?” you tried to speak but a sob ripped through your throat, you moved forward, crashing into Harry's chest and wrapping your arms around his torso. “hey hey, breathe, in-“ you felt his chest rise, and you swallowed down another sob and took a wobbly breath.

Harry continued to calm you down, soon your breath synchronizing with his “yer doin’ amazing darlin’ now, give me five things yeh can see”

You pulled back slightly from his chest, sniffing as you glanced around “um- locker, window,” a light sob choked you, but Harry just rubbed your back and continued to take deep breathes for you to follow. You glanced down slightly, seeing Harry’s red leather jacket against your shoulder “your jacket, my-my bag, and-and-the school symbol”

“good” Harry cooed, hand running up your back and fingers slipping through your hair, fingers scratching at your scalp comfortably “now name four things yeh can touch”

You looked around again, slowly feeling your body relax, and letting your headrest completely against Harry's chest “wa-water fountain, door handle, vending machine, um-jacket” Harry chuckled at the last one, but nodded.

“amazing love, name three things yeh can hear” you closed your eyes, your lip twitching as you felt your head bump up for a moment.

“your heart” you whispered, not hearing Harrys breath hitch “birds, static”

“a-awesome” Harry sighed, shifting to sit against the wall and pulling you up further into his arms “now, two things yeh can smell”

“metal and leather” you whispered, feeling the grips of the panic attack leaving your body, mentally thanking the gods that Harry had found you.

“good, now, one thing yeh can taste”

You pushed away from Harry’s chest, opening your eyes again and looking around “um-oh! Cookies!” you chirped, leaning up a little as you spotted a bag of Oreos inside the vending machine across the hall.

“amazing job lass, are yeh okay now?” you took a deep breath and looked back at Harry, giving him a tired smile.

“better but” you could still feel the tightness in your chest and your limbs felt like lead “thank you….could you help me to my room? I’m really tired and I need to take a break from everything for a bit”

“of course,” Harry nodded, helping to your feet and grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, letting you take your pace as he helped you to your room.

He glared at anyone you passed by, tightening his grip on your waist and even snapping his teeth at Chad as he sneered at you and Harry together. You were too tired to pay attention to anything though, sighing in relief as your room appeared around the corner. Harry dug your key from your bag and quickly unlocked your room, holding onto your hand tightly as you walked into your room and towards your bed.

He released your hand as your knees hit the edge of your bed and you flopped onto the sheets, blowing out a harsh breath as he ruffled his hair.

“so yeh all good?” he asked again, tilting his head at you, you lifted your head and gave a small nod.

“I will be, thank you, Harry”

He gave a grin and walked over to you, kneeling beside your bed “I've got yer back darlin’ get some rest, and I’ll get yer homework from our classes kay?”

“okay” you whispered, flopping your head back on your bed, feeling your face heat up again as Harry leaned over and pressed a kiss to your head “um-Harry?”

“well talk about it when yer right of head love, see yeh later” he stood and walked out of the room, locking your door and tossing the key on your dresser. He smiled at you and closed the door, his heavy footsteps quickly walking away from your room.

You pressed your fingers gently to the place Harry's lips were moments ago, feeling the heat in your face reaching your ears and stretching down your neck.

‘was-he-a kiss?’ you thought, sitting up and staring at the door. ‘he-wow’

You stared at the door for a moment longer before you kicked off your shoes and just crawled under your covers, smiling as you thought back to his kind words and soft lips.

You closed your eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, forcing down the thoughts that said Harry was only being friendly, you could bear to let yourself dream for a bit.

Harry sighed, flipping through the multiple sheets of homework he held in his hands, pursing his lips as he thought back to (y/n), something had set her off to have such an intense panic attack. He was just glad he knew how to calm someone down from it after helping the smee twins through them after so many years.

He looked to his right as Jane passed by him, he reached out grabbing her shoulder, she jumped slightly, looking at him with wide eyes.

“uh, hey Harry? What's up?”

“I came across (y/n) havin’ a panic attack like-two hours ago? Any idea-woah!” Jane’s eyes widened and she grabbed onto his shirt.

“what?! Is she okay? Did-“ Harry quickly covered the girl's mouth.

“she’s fine Jane, she’s in ‘er room now restin’ I just wanted to know if this is a recurring thing or that was the first time it happened”

“recurring” Jane sighed, wrenching Harry's hand from her mouth “she has an anxiety disorder, that’s why she's always so quiet, doesn’t like to draw attention to herself and all that”

Harry furrowed his brows, fixing his bag on his shoulder “ah, is that why she’s all blushy ‘round me then? All those thoughts goin’ wild n stuff?”

“nah” Jane waved her hand nonchalantly “She's just crushing on you….oop didn’t mean to say that!” Jane looked back at him with wide eyes.

A small smile grew on Harry's face “she-she has a crush on meh?”

“I-uh-fudge, yes” Jane sighed, slapping her palm against her forehead “dangit she told me about it in confidence and I just blurt it out like tha-wait!” Harry patted Jane's shoulder with a chuckle and pushed her aside a bit.

“Thanks, Jane~ I gotta go!” Harry took off towards leaving a confused Jane in the hall.

“wait what are you going to do!” Jane yelled, huffing as no response came back “…OH!” Jane squealed, hopping in place. Harry liked (y/n) back! Ohhhh this was going to be so cute!

She had to tell the VK girls, Evie and Dizzy would die!

You sighed, smoothing down the front of your oversized hoodie and further curling into a ball on your bed, sporadically clicking the attack button on your gaming device as you fought one of the hardest mini-bosses of the game.

“come one-, die you-gah!” you seethed, cursing as your weapon broke “again?! goddammit!”

“I have’ta say, it’s weird to hear yeh curse darlin’” you screeched, halfway tossing your switch across the room, the device bouncing off your bed and landing on the pile of pillows on the floor.

You looked towards your door, pressing a hand to your chest as you let out a long sigh “Harry! Geez I’m still calming down from earlier, don’t barge in like that!”

Harry winced, closing the door behind him “sorry love, I brought yer homework and some food fer yeh” he held up his bag and a white plastic bag holding a box of food.

“oh” you felt your face heat up as he stepped closer to your bed “thank you”

“no problem darlin’” he purred, setting the bag of food next to you and tossing his bag on your desk. “so~” he started, leaning closer to you with a sly smirk on his face “I heard something really~ interesting on meh way here~”

You rose your brow and flipped open the box of food, humming at the still steaming (preferred lunch).

“little Janey said yer crushin on meh~” your entire body stopped, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you “and before yeh freak out with all those thoughts yeh get” he leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek “it's not one-sided darlin’ “

You felt your brain short circuit, unable to think ANYTHING as you stared at harry. He chuckled softly and gave you a toothy smirk, his eyes crinkling as he looked at you like he never had before. “Cat got yer tongue love?.I’ll let yeh process it all, but just know, I do like yeh back, and I would jump off a cliff sooner than hurt yeh….” He kissed your cheek again and stood, stopping as you suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm.

“um-I-, I just wanted to say it myself” you muttered, tugging him back down to your side “I-I-I” you stuttered, feeling your face heat up as harry smiled at you with that adorable crinkled nose “ilikeyou” you gasped, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards you, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and quickly falling back on your bed, pulling your pillow over your face and screeching into it.

Harry just chuckled and patted your knee “like yeh too darlin’ I’ll see yeh later love, okay?”

You just let out some sort of garbled response into your pillow. “okay, text me if yeh want me ta bring yeh dinner” he quickly took his back, emptied your homework from it, and left the room, locking the door behind him.

You let out a huff as you chucked your pillow at the wall, feeling a grin blooming on your face. You squealed, patting your cheeks to try to make the heat escape from it.

“he likes me back” you breathed, giggled erupting from your chest “he likes me back!!!!!” fits of laughter overtook you as you wiggled happily in your bed “he likes me!!!!”

Harry bit his lip to hide his grin as he listened to your mini-celebration “She's so adorable” he chuckled, fixing his bag and walking off, whistling a little tune as he did so.

-end-

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @random-thoughts-003

@remembered-license @imtryingthisout

@verboetoperee

#disney descendants #harry hook x reader #commission work #harry hook descendants #harry hook #harry hook imagine #Descendents #descendants #writing commission

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depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

The Anatomy of the Sun

Chapter II: One more Hour

A/N: Here’s chapter 2! I think I will be updating this around every 1-2 weeks because the chapters are really long. Anyway, here it the second chap, I hope you like it and please comment!

Word count: 17K

Warnings: Kissing (more like making out), a tad of angst, r!pe mention (the patient is a victm), some mental illness references if you squint.

Chapter I

Tagging: @showtunesandsolangelo

It’s all about lines.

Jason was feeling good, he could feel it- today was going to be great. He finally managed to correct the cute barista who kept on calling him Jack and he had found the perfect parking space. He was excited- maybe he’d even get into an OR today and take back his 007 status. That was until he was almost hit by a motorcycle. He watched as the rider swerved from side to side until finally, they pulled up, leaning their motorcycle to the side as they pulled off their helmet. He watched as Hazel shook her head back and forth, letting her dark curls bounce about as she stretched her neck. She ran past him, shooting him a respectful nod as she entered the hospital with her motorcycle helmet in her gloved hands.

The finish line at the end of residency.

Roommates. Nico was officially putting up a poster for roommates. He didn’t know why he didn’t just ask Hazel but at the same time, he did. Asking Hazel was a portal into too much family drama than he could handle. Having to attend family dinners with his family was bad enough, he didn’t want to start arguing with Hazel. Besides, he just wanted 2 complete strangers that he didn't have to interact with. He pressed his thumb into the pin, securing the poster.

Waiting in line for a chance at the operating table.

And then, there’s the most important line. The line separating you from the people you work with.

Juniper was waiting to get the lift, her bag swinging in her hands. She had made a bad impression on everyone so far- maybe it was because she was a model. She couldn’t lie, people had lacked respect when talking to her in particular and she had a feeling that it had something to do with her ex- career. Finally, the lift pinged and its doors opened, only for it to be full of people. She could tell they were all staring at her, not because she looked spectacularly bad that day (she had not slept properly in a month) but because they clearly all knew of her previous occupation. Juniper mumbled something about taking the stairs and decided to keep her head up high.

At least she wasn't under tons of crushing debt.

Hour 1

Nico slipped off his boots, trading them for some worn out trainers that were much more safe. The boots were old but he hadn’t worn them often due to their uncomfortable nature but for once, he had decided to wear them. Did he know why he chose them? No, he had just decided to slip them on.

“I would ask how last night went, but I think I know and I really don’t want to hear details,” Hazel said as she walked past Nico to gain access to her locker, referring to the bruise at the base of his collarbone.

“You’re just jealous that you haven’t scored an attending yet. I’ll bet you I’m in trauma today,” Nico bragged as he pushed his boots into the already overcrowded locker. Hazel rolled her eyes at her brother's typical behaviour.

“You know that he might think you guys are dating?” Hazel added, slipping on her white coat. Nico snorted as he pulled on his scrub shirt over his long sleeved t-shirt.

“I’ve made it very clear to him that we are not dating,” Nico scoffed, “ Now all I have to do is wait for the chase.”

“The chase?”

“The chase, you know? The whole trying to pursue this person you like. It gets to a point where I will have all the power and he will do anything I want,” Nico explained. Hazel raised an eyebrow at his boastful tactics but decided to make no further comment. She did however want to make a comment about the roommates poster he had put up.

“What's up with the roommates poster by the way? Since when did you want people living with you?” Hazel asked, slamming her locker shut, just as Nico closed his. Her hair was frantic, similar to her brothers who's olive skin was particularly glowly today- she did not want to know what from.

“The place seems empty and I need other people paying rent to afford it,” Nico complained. Now it was Hazel’s turn to snort. It wasn’t quite as big a knowledge that the Di Angelo’s were also extremely wealthy than it was knowledge to know of their surgical legacy- Well Bianca’s surgical legacy. Hazel, who was not in the mood to have a confrontation with her brother, simply nodded and left.

“Please! I’d be the perfect candidate! I’m super quiet and I won’t make a mess!” The intern opposite Nico begged as she told him all the things which supposedly made her a good roommate. Nico disagreed. There many reasons that he did not want her living with him but it came down to one which was she was much too young.

“No,” he concluded unsympathetically. He was about to get up and leave when he heard another plead from the intern.

“But why?”

“Where were you when the challenger exploded?” He turned around, slightly annoyed but nonetheless, still intimidating as usual.

“What?”

“The space shuttle, Challenger- where were you when it exploded?” he challenged.

“Uh, I think I was in kindergarten,” she looked up, trying to remember.

Nico huffed out, “Exactly.”

“Percy! We’re going to be late! We aren't going to be late, we’re already late!” Annabeth shouted as she stood by the door in her scrubs, her bag in hand. Percy, with his bed hair, rushed out of the kitchen in his scrubs, grabbing his jacket from the sofa before heading towards Annabeth and placing a soft kiss on her cheek in hopes of lightening up her mood.

“Come on Wise girl, we gotta go,” he grinned cheekily as he grabbed her by the hand opening the door of their house. Annabeth, unable to stay mad for so long, sighed before giving in and heading to the car.

“We are never having morning sex again if it means we’re going to be late,” Annabeth warned. Percy, feigning mock offence, held a hand to his heart and gasped.

“Your words wound me!”

Annabeth slapped his shoulder as she started the car towards the hospital. Percy stopped mucking about and placed another chaste kiss on her cheek to make sure all was well.

Juniper and Jason were both complaining. Nico didn’t think he could handle one of them complaining, let alone trying to deal with both of them- that was a challenge. They were all leaning by the stairs right next to the nurses station which were next to the elevators.

“But Nicoo, why would you put up a poster for roommates if you don’t want roommates? I swear, I’m a great chef and I clean obsessively!” Juniper argued, slumping her arm slightly on Jason.

“I do want roommates but we’re working together 100 hours a week, you want to live together too?” he shot back. He held 4 mocha latte’s in one of those 4 cup holders you get at a coffee shop. Without asking, Juniper snatched two, shocking Nico.

“That’s for not letting us be your roommates,” Juniper pouted as she handed one to Jason who nervously accepted. Jason leaned forward, trying to convince Nico,

“Please, I have to live with my sister and she blasts her music so much. I’m pretty sure my eardrums have popped,”Jason begged. Hazel, in this exact moment, joined them, giving Jason a sympathetic look before noticing the coffee in Nico’s hand. She casually took one from Nico, not caring about his reaction- she had taken his food before on several occasions (although the Happy meal incident did not go over well).

“Why aren’t you taking one?” Hazel nodded her head towards the last coffee in his grasp as she sipped hers- she frowned. Nico never ordered mocha latte. She had expected to be tasting coffee with way too much creamer or a hot chocolate but instead it was the distinctly strong taste of coffee.

“It’s not mine,” Nico hummed as his eyes searched towards the elevator, waiting for it to open. Hazel knew that Dr Solace was already here so what was Nico so invested for? It can’t have been Percy but perhaps the resident who would come with him

“Oh, you’re bringing bribes now?” Hazel pointed towards the coffee, thinking of Dr Chase.

“It’s not a bribe,” Nico defended, looking away sharply as he listened to Jason and Juniper continue to slander his name due to his lack of compassion with them living with him.

“Look, I just want to live with two total strangers that I won’t have to talk to or be nice to!” he confessed, throwing his free hand about in exaggeration. Unexpectedly, Dr Chase made her way down the main stairs (which surprised everyone as they expected her to be downstairs not upstairs). She quickly assigned them all tasks.

“Jason, you’re running the code team* today. Nico, take the trauma pager. Hazel, deliver the weekend labs to the patients and Juni- you’re on sutures,” She announced before heading back up the stairs, only to be stopped by Nico.

“Dr Chase, I was hoping I would be able to assist in the OR today, maybe even perform a minor procedure. I think I’m ready.” He thrusted the mocha latte into her direction, “ Mocha Latte?”

Dr Chase accepted the drink slowly before taking a small sip. It slightly burnt the tip of her tongue but she appreciated the gesture- however, unfortunately for Di Angelo, this did not mean that Dr Chase had accepted his request for surgery.

“Wait, if he gets to cut, then I wanna cut too!” Hazel insisted.

“So do I!” Juniper squished in between the interns. Jason, off to the side mumbled something about how it would be nice to get a second shot. However, this simply irked Dr Chase even more. She held her hand up signalling silence- at least the interns got this sign right.

“Stop talking,” she started, “Every intern wants to perform their first surgery. That’s not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make your resident happy. Do I look happy? No. Why? Because my interns are whiny. You know what will make me look happy? Having the code team staffed, Having the trauma pages answered, having the weekend labs delivered and having someone down in the Pit doing sutures. No one holds a scalpel until I’m so happy, I’m Mary freakin Poppins!”

The interns, as clueless as ever, all stood staring at her with hopeful eyes as if they were baby birds expecting Annabeth to just feed them. She climbed a few steps before turning around and calling out,

“Why are y'all standing there, move!”

Quickly, all the interns scattered to their assigned jobs.

Hour 2

Will was waiting for an elevator as he noticed a short mop of black messy hair pick up a few files off the floor and clumsily place them on top of the overwhelming pile they already had in their small arms. Nico going to an elevator. Trying to not turn around and offer his help, Will kept to himself, smiling slightly at the small grunts the doctor beside him made. Nico finally managed to take a few more steps into Dr Solace’s eyeline, so he was standing next to him instead of behind. He tapped his foot as he decided to further his plan along.

“New york has ferry boats. There are also ferry boats where I come from. I didn’t know there were ferry boats here,” Nico mused. Will, slightly amused by Nico’s lack of geographical knowledge, retorted.

“New York is surrounded by water.”

“Hence the Ferry boats,” Nico concluded before admitting, “Now I have to like it here ya know. I wasn’t planning on liking it. I’m from Italy- genetically engineered to dislike everywhere- except Paris.”

“I have a thing for Ferry Boats,” Will decided to add, smirking slightly as they entered the empty elevator. Nico being the stubborn person he was, attempted to press one of the buttons with his elbow and Will had to practically force the floor level out of Nico. It involved a lot of bickering back and forth until they finally agreed and the elevator doors closed.

Out of nowhere, Nico quickly said, “I’m not going out with you.”

Will, already wounded that his attemp- could he even say attempts? Nico had cut him off before he had even gotten a chance to say anything but he was determined to get to Nico.

“Did I ask you to go out with me?” He turned around, smiling slightly so he only showed some of his sparkling teeth, “Will you go out with me?”

“I ain’t dating you and we aren’t sleeping together again. You’re my boss,” Nico decided to cut to the chase.

“I’m your boss's boss.”

“You're my teacher, and my teacher’s teacher,” Nico pretended to resist only resulting in Will mocking him.

“I’m your sister, I'm your daughter.”

“You’re sexually harassing me.”

“I'm riding an elevator,” Will protested. Nico glanced at the back of Will’s head and thought

His hair looked particularly neat today- it would be such a shame if it got messed up.

“I’m drawing a line. The line is drawn. There’s a big line. Don’t cross the line,” Nico breathed heavily, as if he was holding his breath. Will, still hellbent on teasing the cute intern, turned around, with his arms crossed and his hair as perfect as ever.

“So this line, is it imaginary or do I have to get you a marker?” he smirked, his voice low and teasing- Nico could tell. His crystal blue eyes were going all hazy and his baby pink lips were slightly tilted to the side as if they were just mocking Nicp by being there. They looked soft, no they were soft- Nico knew that from experience. He could see a small mole on the side of his neck as well as a purplish bruise that he may or may have not left there.

Overcome by his lack of impulse control, Nico flung himself onto Will, dropping all the files in his arms and mashed his lips on his- a gesture that was returned just as harshly by Will. The files flew across the elevator floor as Nico’s hands came up to desperately weave themselves into Will’s hair. They fought for dominance in the kiss slamming each other into the elevator- it was hot, needy and totally inappropriate. But it seemed that neither of them cared. Their lips just couldn’t get enough of each other. It was like a fire was getting ignited, a fire that couldn’t be put out. It was in both of them, absolutely raging, uncontrollable. Will was tempted to tell Nico, mind the hair but just then Nico slightly bit at Will's bottom lip, pulling it backwards gently and sucked ever so slightly, before returning to the kiss that had Will plastered against the elevator wall.

So you want to play dirty Di Angelo?

Nico was not going to give Will the chance though. Absolutely consumed by the kiss, he slightly pulled at Will’s hair evicting a small, but low, growl out of Will’s throat. Nico wasn’t sure if he heard that correctly but just as he was about to test it again, he heard the ping of the elevator. The fire within was smaller but it hadn’t died. Nico quickly pulled away and started scrambling towards the floor, trying to grab at the files as the elevator door slowly pulled itself open. Will, still a tad shocked, also helped, trying to organise the files into the right cases before handing them over to Nico. They stepped out of the elevator in sync, just like their pagers. Since Nico was also in trauma, he figured that whatever Dr Solace was getting paged for, he was also meant to be helping.

“I’ll join after I finish with these files,” Nico called out, as Dr Solace nodded and hurried off. Nico smiled to himself as he noticed that Dr Solace’s hair was sticking up in several different directions.

As Nico made his way into the Pit, he noticed a large crowd of doctors all looking slightly concerned- he hoped it was not for his patient- the more gruesome the injury, the more surgery required. However, the second he was told that it was a rape victim, he understood the facial expresions- they were disgusted at the crime, not the injuries attained.

“Dr Solace has gone to prep for surgery along with Dr Jackson,” a nurse informed him as he entered the room.

“Okay, we’ve got a 25 year old female, found down at the park, status post- trauma. She came in with a GCS* of 6. BP* is 80 over 60. Exam is significant for blunt head trauma, as well as unequal breath sounds, her right pupil is dilated and she’s ready for X-ray,” the nurse recited as Nico entered the room. He scanned his eyes across the room before his eyes landed on something familiar.

Were those his boots?

No, they were obviously not Nico’s boots, but they were the same boots. He wanted to shudder, knowing a potential rape victim was wearing the same shoes as him the day she got attacked. It was weird right? It felt weird, it was like there was some weird unknown connection and that in a way, these 2 people were very much connected- as if they were the same people who were living parallel versions of each other's lives. During Nico’s quick zone- out session, a nurse continued to try to call his attention- something he only noticed when they snapped Dr Di Angelo!

He quickly nodded as he grabbed his flashlight from his pocket and pulled her eyelids open, looking for a reaction from her pupils.

“Call ahead to clear a CT, let them know I’m coming,” Nico commanded, “Load up the portable monitor and call respiratory for a ventilator*. I will get X-rays while I’m down there.”

As he helped wheel the patient out of the trauma room, he glanced back at the boots identical to his. There was a blood splatter at the front of it, the laces where messily undone and the heel was the same height. He wasn't acting paranoid right? He couldn’t help but think that this was a weird coincidence.

Nico was slightly surprised to see Dr Zhang scrubbed in on the surgery with them rather than Dr Mclean- after all he was the head of Cardio and she was the head of General surgery- but even then, why any other attendings other than Percy and Dr Solace were required, Nico truly did not know.

“What is she? 5’2, 180 pounds? And she took a beating like this,” Will mumbled.

“They should castrate the guy,” Percy announced from the other side of the table, trying to stop the swelling of her brain

“Look how shredded her hands are, she tried to fight back,” Will pointed out.

“Tried to? The rape test came back negative, she kicked his ass!” Percy told them. Nico was invested to see how Dr Solace was repairing her hands while the 2 attendings talked about the bravery of the patient.

“So we have a warrior among us, huh?” Dr Zhang joined in. Nico couldn’t help but feel a tinge of annoyance. She had a name. She was a person. He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about a patient all of a sudden but he had a faint feeling that it had something to do with those boots.

“Allison… that's her name…. Allison,” Nico cut in the conversation. All the attendings stopped to look at him. Percy, being as supportive as ever, smiled and nodded before returning to fixing her skull. Will looked at Nico, his eyes calm, like the ocean at rest. To an extent, it reminded Nico of Percy’s eyes- something that could always calm Nico down. He watched as Will’s lips slowly parted as he murmured Allison's name under his breath. Dr Zhang took a pair of clamps from the nurse before slowly pulling his arm back.

“I think I’ve found the cause of our rupture….more suction.” As he drew his arm back, the surgical interns and residents crowded by his arm to have a look at the cause of the rupture. However, once the foreign object was removed, the surgeons became more and more confused- what exactly was this, a tumor? A mass?

“What is this?” Dr Zhang turned towards the doctors. They all scooted closer to get a closer look. Nico took a glance for a couple of seconds before opening his eyes wide in horror as he realised what exactly he was looking at. He was in a state of horror and curiosity.

“Oh my god… she bit it off,” Nico started hesitantly. Dr Zhang, Dr Solace and Dr Jackson all looked to him, stopping their individual procedures, waiting for Nico to continue speaking.

“Well, come on- spit it out!” Percy told Nico. Utterly conflicted, Nico decided to just spit it out- just as Percy had told him to.

“That's a..that's a…. um that’s a penis.”

Almost on instinct, Dr Zhang called for a kidney bowl and practically flung the castrated appendage away from himself. Will couldn’t tell if he should laugh or be alarmed at how Nico was the only person able to identify the penis.

Hour 5

The water ran over the surgeons hands as they scrubbed between all the crevices in their hands with soap. In between fingers, around thumbs and nail brushes scrubbed at fingertips. Dr Zhang and Dr Solace both stood side by side as they washed their hands practically in sync- just like their miraculous surgical skills.

“I can’t believe she made it through that surgery,” Will began as he switched off the tap by nudging it slightly with his elbow.

“She has a long road to recovery. Fighting off infection, physiotherapy and not to mention therapy itself,” Frank, in his honest nature, responded. He copied Will, turning off the running water with his elbow as he reached for some paper towels to dry off his hands.

“And she needs to wake up in the next 72 hours if she wants a chance at fighting. She’s a fighter, I believe she can make it.”

“Speaking of making it to places, we should get a drink later and you can tell me the long story of what makes a hot shot doctor leave a big apple for New York,” Frank offered as he threw his paper towel into the bin.

Will shrugged slightly, “It’s a short story really- your Chief of surgery made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Chiron asked you to come?” Frank asked, genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, why?” Will turned around looking at Dr Zhang. He watched as Frank’s expressions twisted before he shook his head, gave a small smile and mumbled never mind.

“Do you know what the Code Team does? They save lives- yeah, I know. I shock a heart and another patient gets to live to see another day, pretty cool huh?” Jason slightly bragged, trying to make conversation with Hazel - who he knew was overly competitive. He was leaning over the shoulder of Hazel who leaned over the desk at the nurses station, organizing the patient files and lab results.

“Bambi, don’t say another word until after the hunter shoots your mother,” Hazel’s voice drawled with boredom. Jason practically speechless only managed out a meek,

“I don’t like you.”

Hazel sharply turned around, “You know, I have a BA* from Smith, a PHD* from Berkeley and an MD* from Stanford and I'm delivering lab results. It's gonna take me ages to get through these-”

“-Well then you better get a move on with it,” Dr Chase walked past, surprising the doctor. Hazel slightly intimidated, tried to protest that she wasn’t complaining but it seemed that Dr Chase didn’t really care. A doctor behind her with thick curly hair and a smug expression stood, trying to keep his expression neutral.

“This is Dr Underwood. Lucky Valdez got to get rid of him so now he’s got Mccaffrey and I’ve got Underwood on my service. Levesque, have him shadow you and show him how we run things on my service,” Dr chase commanded before walking off, slightly sashaying.

“Hey, I’m Grover Underwood, nice to meet you.” He held his hand out to Hazel who looked at it and recoiled slightly before looking at it in disgust. Jason was still trying to figure out if he liked this guy, he seemed quite polite so far but he truly wondered what Underwood did to get kicked off Valdez’s service- he had heard that Valdez was a pretty chill resident, getting kicked off his service would seem pretty hard.

“You’re the pig who called Nico a nurse.. Yeah, I hate you on principal,” Hazel admitted looking him up and down.

He did what? Jason thought as he eavesdropped on the conversation beside him.

“And you’re the pushy, overbearing kiss ass… I hate you too,” Grover grunted.

Okay, I defo don’t like this guy, Jason decided.

“Should be fun then,” Hazel sarcastically smiled as they both set off just as Jason's pager beeped signalling another Code Blue.

Jason ran around the corner, nurses following him as he found the patient's room. Immediately, he introduced himself. He had become more and more familiar with this procedure and while it had taught him that Hades was enjoying his job a bit too much, he was also hopeful for the patient in every room he had to run to.

“I’m Dr Grace and I’ll be running this code. What do we have?”

“57 year old male with an asystole pulse*,” A nurse from beside the bed answered. Jason ordered the defibrillators to be used as he had another person put on compressions, another on the ambu bag and someone administering drugs.

“Charging to 200, clear!”

The Pit was quite full as Dr June walked in, searching for her next patient. She picked up a chart from the nurses station that was positioned next to the emergency entrance and flipped the page to see the name. Mrs Lu, Bed 3

“Hi Mrs Lu, I'm Doctor June. I'm gonna sew up your wound, you’re going to need around 6 stitches.” Juniper turned around to start setting up the equipment from the tray only to hear a frantic cry of words coming from behind her. She only recognised the chinese word for hurt but even then, she could not decipher what Mrs Lu was saying. She sighed, wondering how long it would be until she could get a hold of a translator. She was tempted to ask Dr Zhang but she knew it was selfish and plain old rude of her to assume that Dr Zhang would be able to help her. She decided to wait for a translator.

Nico and the penis in a box. Yes, you read that correctly. Nico was holding the penis in a box or how he would like to put it, the forgein object in a cooler. They were making their way towards the office of the Chief Of Surgery. He slightly remembered the walk up to the room, the carpet and walls seeming familiar, like a second home. As he walked into the office, he was surprised to find Secretary Hedge there instead of Chief Chiron. He rapped his knuckles on the door gently, grasping the attention of the man sitting in the chair.

“Hey, I was told to leave this with the Chief.” He raised his arm with the cooler in his hand.

“Is that it?” A seriously over eager Secretary Hedge asked. Nico slowly nodded, trying to not fuel the secretaires curiosity. In a complete turn of events, Hedge asked,

“Can I see it?” Hedge watched as Nico struggled to keep his facial muscles under control- laugh or cringe, Nico did not know. Just as Hedge muttered a small, forget I asked, Chiron walked in with his white jacket and a large smile on recognising Nico.

“Nico! It’s good to see you!”

At this, Nico smiled. He had known Chiron for very long but the mass majority of the time that he had seen him, the attention was entirely focused on the potential for his sister- not much for him. He felt a bit guilty that he was enjoying the shine of her mentor while she was struggling but he finally felt noticed.

“How’s Bianca? I heard she was leaving the Mayo Clinic. Is she going back to the UN?” Chrion asked almost immediately. Nico could feel all the happiness and life in him slowly drain.So nothing had actually changed. He was still in his sister's shadow despite the fact that she wasn’t even here. Gods, she wasn’t even in this time period! Bianca was in a nursing home thinking she was reliving her surgery days and here was Nico somehow still under her shadow. If Bianca’s mentor wasn’t willing to see Nico’s potential as a surgeon- how many other Doctors thought that he was only here due to his Di Angelo status? Percy? Dr Chase? Did Doctor Solace think that?

Why does it concern me the most if Dr Solace doesn’t see past my status?

Nico decided that it must be because Dr solace was the head of his favourite department- Trauma.

“Uh, no. She’s taking time off-”

“-To write another book I suppose?” Chiron cut in, smiling as he picked up some papers off his desk and moved them underneath a folder. Nico simply attempted a smile in return, a gesture that did not alarm Chiron- he had known Nico Pre-Bianca and her alzehmiers. That Nico had been a very smiley person. Nico, who could have sworn his facial muscles were deteriorating as he smiled, decided to move the conversation to the matter at hand- the penis in a bo-

- The foreign object in a cooler .

“Well, I’ve got it,” Nico said half heartedly, lifting the cooler in his hand up slightly. Chiron turned to his secretary, conversing a few words with him, as if Nico had never entered the room.

“Uh, Hedge, how long did the cops say they’d be?”

“You know how slow they always are so he better take it with him-”

“-Take it with me? You want me to take a penis around the hospital with me?” Nico cut off Hedge, with growing anxiety- he did not want to have to babysit a penis. Gosh, being on Solace’s service was meant to result in fun, not this!

“It's the chain of custody rules. All medical matter in a rape must stay with the person who collected it until its placed into police custody,” Chiron ,who was secretlty relived to not have to keep the penis, recited.

“So I have custody over a penis,” Nico deadpanned. Sheepishly, the secretary nodded trying to not laugh at the poor kids' situation.

“Until the cops come from it, of course,” Chiron reminded Nico, as if knowing that the police would take their sweet time was any more re- assuring.

“And what am I meant to do with a penis?” Nico frantically asked, his cool persona falling and being slowly replaced by one of panic and desperation. Chiron and Hedge simply gave obscure looks at Nico’s question before looking back down at the papers in their hands.

Hour 10

Hazel sighed. She had been sighing all day. Every patient either had a benign tumour* or a condition of no interest to her. When was someone going to be seriously ill? They were surgeons for god's sake, not lab running rats! Both Hazel and Grover made their way to the next patients room, seriously disappointed. On entering the room, they both saw the family crowded round the patients bed, holding their hands together like there was a prayer commencing.

“You have a disorder called multinucleate cell angiohistiocytoma. It's not a cancer or a sarcoma, it's very rare but minor. You will be discharged today,” Hazel, slightly bored, attempted a smile. The family, still taking in the good news, were catatonic for around 5 seconds before all hell broke loose. There was crying, cheering, claps and laughs. Grover and Hazel both looked at each other with the same expression- Get me out of here .

“Wait wait, does this mean I don’t need surgery?” The patient ,still propped up by his elbows in his bed, inquired. Hazel simply nodded before getting pulled into a bear hug, against her will may I add, and practically almost suffocated to death. Her eyes widened as she stared into Grovers soul trying to get him to help her. Unfortunately for Hazel, Underwood was much more invested in watching her uncomfortable encounters.

Jason was sitting in a chair, letting it spin it around and round. The nurses station was quite empty with only the occasional nurse in and out. He stopped his spinning to bury his head in a very interesting chart that consisted of a case to do with a-

- Clink!

Nico set down the cooler on the desk with a loud sound that jolted Jasons’s head out of his head before letting his eyes land on the cooler. Jason, curious and wanting to engage in conversation with Nico began questioning the contents of the cooler. Nico who really did not want to tell Jason attempted to warn him

“Ooh, what’s in the cooler?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“No.” Jason got up from his seat and came to stand next to Nico, “ No, I do wanna know.”

Nico, who really wasn’t about to greatly resist, decided to tell Jason. Afterall, if it ruined Jason’s day as well, it would mean he wouldn't be the only miserable person moping about in the hospital.

“It’s a severed penis.” Nico shrugged quite nonchalantly as he gained amusement from the horrified expression slowly growing on Jason’s face. He watched as Jason's expressions contorted between fascination and disgust, trying to figure out which emotion to settle on. He wanted to prove Nico wrong but at the same time didn’t want Nico to not like him.

“I don’t think I wanted to know that.” Jason looked back down at his book, with a meek expression and his head slightly bowed as if he was praying. As Jason entered a world of truly unnecessary overthinking, Grover and Hazel came in arguing, what about, Jason did not know and in all honesty, after what Nico had told him- he did not want to know. Deciding he wanted to shift his discomfort to someone else, he looked to Hazel.

“Do you know Di Angelo is babysitting a penis in a jar?” he pointed towards the cooler sitting on the table top. Hazel, with piqued curiosity, quickly made her way over towards the cooler and opened the lid, taking a quick peek at the bitten off contents before shutting it.

“It’s a cooler, not a jar,” Nico whined slightly, not really directing his comment towards anyone.

“Talk about taking a bite out of crime,” Hazel commented as she picked something out of Nico’s hair. Nico didn’t really know whether to thank her or to resist the gesture. It felt weird- right? It was weird that Hazel was filling Bianca’s void. It was weird that Nico first thought about Hazel when people talked about his sister. It was weird that Nico was completely okay with this. He felt it was simply not right but at the same time, he didn’t want it to stop. Was he being unfaithful to Bianca? Was he betraying her? Or would she want him to move on from her, grow closer with his family who were actually lucid.

Jason watched Nico’s facial expressions with intensity- such intensity that had Nico not been stuck in a hole of problems, he a hundred percent would have noticed and even been creeped out by Jason’s intense stare. Despite only knowing Nico for around a month, he cared deeply about him. He wanted to know what was so concerning to him so much that he froze up and his eyes went all glazed like he was on autopilot. Nico was a closed off person who wore all black and covered up his secrets with wicked smiles and sarcastic quips but Jason could see the vulnerable child within Nico. He felt responsible for him and everything that happened to him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jason asked tenderly, making Nico lift his head- effectively stopping him from daydreaming. For a second, when Nico lifted his head, Jason saw a glitter in Nico’s eyes that reminded him of innocence. Youth, life and calamity- instead of the empty, cold and lifeless onyx eyes that could give even Lucifer nightmares.

“The rape victim I had today, Allison, she had the same shoes as me. And ever since… It just doesn’t sit well with me, ya know? I never wear those boots normally because they’re so uncomfortable And it’s… stupid and I’m tired so nevermind, just leave it.” Nico batted his hand, dismissing the subject. Jason raised his eyebrows at the abrash statement and gesture before attempting Nico’s wicked smile.

“Do you know what you need?” Jason wiggled his eyebrows, letting the secret into the open like a breath of air. Immediately, Nico caught onto what Jason was talking about. He was offended and shocked that Jason had been doing it without him- This was their thing and Jason was doing it behind his back without him? The betrayal was heartbreaking. What next? Solace sleeping with someone else?

“No! It’s sick and twisted and we said last time was the last time,” Nico firmly said. He watched as Jason’s face contorted between guilt and excitement.

“You’ve been doing it without me?” Nico released. Jason shuffled his feet together nefor mumbling a ‘maybe’.

“Do you know what would happen if anyone knew?” Nico huffed out but Jason had made up his mind.

“I’m doing it- you can come with me or you can sit here and be miserable,” Jason confirmed as he dragged Nico by the white collar, which was considerably easy when you realised that Nico was an entire head shorter that Jason- and some would argue even more.

Nico and Jason had their faces pressed up onto the glass staring at the cute babies in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit or as the doctors would simply call it- the NICU. Nico couldn't help the overwhelming smile that made his way onto his face as he stared at the cute babies as they attempted to talk, throwing their limbs about cluelessly. He listened to Jason who urged them with non-existent words and funky sounds that was considered the universal baby language. Nico looked at Jason- his platinum blonde hair and faintly light blue eyes reminded him to an extent of Will but at the same time- there was a clear difference. Will had faint freckles that decorated his face like a cake being decorated by icing sugar- whereas Jason had a pale complexion. Will’s hair was more of a golden blond and reminded of Nico of sunrise on a summer morning- hot, warm and some may even say beautiful and then there was his eyes-

- Why was he reciting this like he memorised it in the shower for fun?

Nico decided to put Wil- no, Solace out of his mind. He listened to the absolutely adorable sounds that Jason was making- he reminded him of Bianca when she used to babysit Estelle- Percy’s younger sister. Estelle was absolutely adorable and Nico considered her to be his younger sister as well, considering the amount of time she spent with the Di Angelo’s- especially during Percy’s med school and residency years when he was meant to be babysitting Estelle and had instead handed her to Nico and Bianca.

“You are such a softie,” Nico said, giggling slightly at Jason who was still cooing at the babies. For a couple of moments afterwards, Jason froze. Was Nico complimenting him? Or was it an insult? What on earth did the word ‘softie’ mean here? Did Nico like sofites? Or was ‘Softie’ Nico’s equivalent of ‘ absolute loser’? However, before Jason was able to come to any sort of conclusion, his pager beeped, signalling another Code Blue that he had to respond to.

“Ah shit, I’ve got a code to run, I’ll catch you later.” Jason waved before breaking into a jog and leaving. After Nico said his goodbyes to Jason he continued watching the babies for some more time. He was fascinated- how did humanity get from there to here. The babies were pure and new and hadn’t been exposed to the harsh realities of the world- how will they turn to what Nico has become? How did they get from Point A to point B? As Nico pondered over these philosophical thoughts, he carried watching the babies but something caught his eye. He could have sworn that baby he just saw went blue momentarily. It was crying and thrashing about but maybe Nico was only seeing things. He was tired, sleep deprived and if he had to be honest- this wouldn't have been the first time Nico saw things that weren’t actually there.

He watched it again, more intensely. With an analytical fine tooth comb. There- the baby turned blue again! So he wasn’t hallucinating! He rushed into the room, quickly taking out the chart of the baby and scanning his eyes over the info. He was aware that if he was caught, the consequences would not be great. That was probably the understatement of the year. After finishing with the chart, he set it down and took his stethoscope and started listening to the heart of the baby- something there wasn’t right, Nico could feel it. Nico did not often have such strong feelings but he had learnt that when they occurred, they were never wrong.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing here?” a doctor with pink scrubs walked in.

“There were no tests ordered and the baby has a heart murmur-” Nico began, taking the stethoscope out of his ears.

“-I know and you’re surgery, you are not authorised to be here. Do you know what could happen if you were caught?” The intern pressed on but Nico refused to step down here.

“Are you going to do any tests to confirm?” Nico asked, his tone clearly one of concern.

“It’s a benign systolic ejection murmur*. It will go away with age.”

“So you aren’t doing any tests.” Nico realised that he couldn’t win this in any way- well for now. He started to make his way towards the door before the intern decided to slam another attempt at a guilt tripping insult at him but in reality just made Nico doubt their abilities. He seriously felt bad for the Valdez resident if these were the meatheads he had to teach.

Hour 15

Frank felt betrayed. He had to say, he was never truly familiar with such a feeling. He had experienced the odd chance of it but in reality Frank was used to succeeding- in fact he had dedicated all his life to it. Many people saw him as soft, simple and easy to beat opponent but in reality that was one of his greatest strengths- people underestimated him until they met him. To an extent this had made Frank slightly arrogant- but he wouldn’t say it wasn’t necessary. The truth is, every surgeon has to be arrogant to believe that they can cut open another human and somehow fix them as if they were a god like deity but right now, Frank wasn’t thinking that he was arrogant, no. He was thinking that Chiron was being arrogant- believing that he was all so big and mighty and could just throw Frank about with his lies and schemes.

“Oh Chiron! So you asked Solace to come here?” Frank confronted, his hands resting on his hips.

“Yeah, Solace was an old student of mine...” Chiron trailed off, unaware of the purpose of the conversation.

“Oh so he left a private practise in Austin, Texas just because you asked?”

“Yes.”

“No other reason? Just a favour for an old professor,” Frank said with a hint of sarcasm lingering behind the words.

“It will be years before I retire,” Chiron began to reassure, understanding the nature of the conversation of the root of Frank's passive aggressive attitude.

“ Chief of surgery is mine, you told me so,” Frank reminded him.

“It was yours, now I'm not so sure.”

“I am the best surgeon here! I have the lowest mortality rate, you can’t just bring someone-”

“-Ask me why. Ask me why I'm not so sure of you," Chiron repeated, trying to get Frank to understand his motives. Chiron liked Frank, they had done a lot for each other. In fact, it had been Chrion who had helped Frank get over his low self- esteem, something that had bothered Frank for almost his entire life.

Frank, feeling defeated, almost stormed off. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty but he couldn’t help letting a bit of it creep in as he remembered how somehow, he led Chiron, his mentor, to believe that his low self-esteem no longer existed. Maybe it was Chiron’s great desire to no longer see Frank suffer that made him see past it but Frank knew better. He wasn’t mad because the job may not be his, no- he had only wanted the job due to the benefits that came with it. Frank was mad because Chirom bringing in another ex-mentee of his simply brought his low self-esteem back all over again.

It was like med- school except this time, there were actual lives at stake. Did Chiron truly feel that he wasn’t good enough- that Solace would be a better Chief of Surgery better than Frank? He didn’t want to admit it, but Frank knew that he had become somewhat arrogant in an attempt to lie to himself and hide the lack of self esteem. The arrogance had only started when he was in residency but over the years, as he saved more lives, it accumulated. Yet, somehow, Frank still did not think it was good enough. Clearly Solace was. Why else would Chiron bring another threat to Frank’s anxiety if Chiron didn’t believe Frank's anxiety had gone? Surely Chiron wouldn’t do this knowing how badly it would hurt Frank.

Would he?

Hazel was bored. She knew it, Grover knew it and so did every nurse in a 1 metre radius of the stretcher that she sat in with the charts of her patients in a stack in front of her. This was New York Presbytarian! They were meant to have the best surgical residency in the country and here she was delivering lab results to over joyous patients- none of which had any sort of interesting condition. You’d think that someone in a hospital would be close to dying but no, it seemed that all of her patients were in ‘tip top’ condition.

“People need to get sick because I refuse to spend my residency doing this,” Hazel complained as she flipped the pages of the chart.

“Exactly. How can we be in the OR if people are just gonna live?” Grover agreed. They continued complaining, depressed about their current state. Hazel wanted to get this done and over with. The quicker she finished the job, the quicker she could get into a surgery. She took the 20 case files and separated them into 2 piles, each with 10 files.

“Here.” She handed one pile to Grover as she got up, “ You take 10, I take 10. We go in, we go out- no hugging, no laughing, no crying. Don’t be slow,” she instructed.

“Slow? If anything you’re the slow one,” Grover retorted as they made their way to the hallway.

“You wanna bet?” Hazel challenged, stopping a second to look at Grover. He mumbled a ‘You’re on’ before they both ran off, trying to finish first.

“You literally aren't letting anyone live with you!” The psychology resident complained. Nico turned on them.

“Favorite 80’s band?”

“That has nothing to do with this!”

“I’m still waiting.” he tapped his foot impatiently.

“I don’t know, the Bangles?” They shrugged cluelessly while Nico scoffed.

“Yeah, absolutely not.” Nico began walking away- he had to babysit a penis after all.

“Is there even a right answer?”

“AC/DC, The rolling stones, Guns N’ Roses,” Nico called out, not looking back, as he walked away.

“You will be free to leav- OOF!” Grover was cut off by an enormous bear hug from almost the entire family. He wanted to push them all away from him- after all, 3 families had hugged him so far and he had only visited 4 of the 10 patients he had. If he continued at this rate, Hazel was for sure to win.

“You have a cyst on your lymph node- but tests have confirmed that it was not cancerous which means you probably have some sort of infection- we will put you on broad range antibiotics before discharge tomorrow,” Hazel recited as she dodged a hug aiming for her resulting in 2 family members in an embrace. She quickly slipped out of the room without notice and smiling to herself- 5 down, 5 to go.

“Clear!” Jason called again, it had been 26 minutes into a code without any reaction to CPR, drugs or shocking. Jason knew what was coming next. He could feel it, like it was hanging over his shoulder waiting for his patients to walk into their arms. Death hung at the shoulder of every doctor as their guardian angel- something he remembered Nico saying. When he had said it, he didn't remember. He put his arm out, signalling the nurse to stop CPR. He took a shaky breath.

“Time of death, 15:45.”

Hour 20

Nico watched as the heart monitor stayed stable, reaching the apex before dropping and repeating. Allison. Attempted rape. Boots. Those were the words just floating around his head. Here she was on a vent, alone, like a vegetable and only hours ago she had been alive- smiling, talking, fighting.

“I've called every hospital in the country. Sooner or later the guy who did this is gonna seek medical attention and when he does, that penis you’re carrying around is gonna nail him,” a voice coming from behind Nico said. He turned his head slightly to see the golden curls that he had messed up this morning. Nico’s eyes were cast back onto the lonely woman. How could anyone so vulnerable be so alone?

“Where's her family?” The words slipped out of Nico’s mouth before he could stop them. Will shook his head slightly, his hair bouncing slightly from the impact.

“Doesn't have one.”

“No siblings?” Nico asked, thinking of Hazel and Bianca.

“Nope, both parents are dead. She moved to New York 3 weeks ago. Welcome to the city,” Will took a bite out of an apple miserably. Nico too was miserable- they both had good reason to do so. What kind of world did they live in where the system was so disadvantaged to anyone who wasn’t white, male, heterosexual and neurotypical? What kind of system forced minorities to work in society's most unwanted but vital jobs? What kind of system forced women to be terrified of walking home alone- day or night?

“Nico? Are you okay?” Will’s soft and concerned voice broke into Nicos thoughts. The question left him speechless- was he okay? The cynical, sarcastic and natural answer was No- obviously no. But for some reason, Nico did not want to say no, but rather leave his own pain to himself- not burden anyone else with it.

“Yeah.. I just gotta do something.” With that, Nico ran off looking for Dr Zhang.

Nico found Dr Zhang climbing the stairs. The hospital had a comfortable endless buzz, something that all the staff were used to- Frank was hoping to get a calm and perhaps even silent moment to himself. Instead, he got an intern.

“Dr Zhang, there’s this patient. It’s a baby in peds and they had a tetralogy spell with a heart murmur,” Nico started, his legs struggling to keep up.

“Did Ped’s ask for a consult?”

Nico stayed silent, partially because he didn’t want to feel guilty for lying and partially because he did not have a lie on him- not one that he could pull off at least.

“Di Angelo, you’re a bright kid but we can’t just walk in there without a Peds consult. It’s not like I’m the Chief of Surgery,” Frank said sympathetically as he walked off.

“Hehehee, you’reee hott,” the drunk slurred as they leaned slightly forward in a terrible attempt to flirt with Juniper. Juniper still stood in the Pit, it’s fluorescent lights giving her a headache- along with the noise levels and annoying patients. Slightly disgusted by the stench of alcohol on their breath, she pushed them back gently, making sure they didn’t flop onto the stretcher.

“You’re drunk,” she deadpanned as she prepared the sutures, “And you also need to hold still.”

Juniper was sick of the Pit, she was sick of the flourecsant lights that made her skin look like puke and most of all, she was sick of her patients; drunk and disorderly were the mass majority and since the morning, not one major casualty had come through those doors other than the rape case Nico had been assinged to.

“I know you! You’re that lady from the magazine with the red bikini..” they trailed off, their voice in a musing and questioning tone. Juniper had to physically stop herself from scoffing- It was a pink bikini. She didn’t hate her fans but sometimes people made it weird, especially drunk ones who enjoyed invading her personal space a tad too much.

“It was a pink bikini.”

The seats by the hospital doors were the perfect place (other than the vending machines) to hide from your residents- so naturally, Nico and Hazel were there, camping away during lunch. The penis in a box sat in the chair next to him as he nibbled at the rainbow sour gummy strips.

“Watcha doing?” Hazel asked as she made her way towards him.

“I’m sitting with my penis.”

“Which one?”

In response to this, Nico scrunched up his face in a sarcastic, sardonic smile that read No <3.

“I kissed McDreamy...in an elevator. I was having a bad day,” Nico started with his voice relatively quiet.

“So what do you do on your bad days, make out with McDreamy?”

“Yeah that and carrying around a severed penis just makes everything so shiny and happy,” He retorted in response to his sister.

“Jason said Allison was wearing your boots.”

“…. It's weird right? “

“It’s weird that you care so much. They’re boots and popular ones too- anyone could have them,” Hazel argued. Nico opened his mouth to respond but in that moment a bunch of frantic shouting cut them off. Behind them, right outside the hospital a man had pulled up. His skin was sickly pale, there was blood all over his legs and groin and he was struggling to move.

Nico looked at his facial features and did not expect for the man to look… well normal. For some reason, he had envisioned the man to look evil- to resemble hate itself but he just looked normal. That's when it hit Nico- rapists don’t look like rapists. They look like average people because that's what their best advantage is- the trusting nature of humanity. They don’t look evil because they need to fit in, to gain the trust of others and protect their reputation. They look normal because anybody could be a rapist- they don’t wear posters pointing it out and it’s not written on their foreheads. That's what they do best- hide.

Nico and the transport staff rushed the man in the gurney towards the operating room, their legs moving as fast as possible. The police were going to arrive soon but for now, he would have to be handcuffed to his bed. The rapist was found, Allison was alive, now what? There was no way they’d be able to re attach the penis and honestly, Nico did not want to- in his eyes, the rapist got exactly what he deserved

“Call reception and tell them we need security up here ASAP,” Nico ordered, finally taking charge. As the gurney was charged into the surgical department, Dr Chase caught on.

“What dya have Di Angelo?”

“Take a look for yourself.” He nodded towards the middle of the man's body, more specifically his groin. Annabeth quickly lifted up the drapes before letting them drop- here eyes widened and she looked at Nico with disbelief painted across her face.

“Page the Chief and Solace and tell them we’ve got the rapist,” she commanded as she took Nico’s position on the gurney and continued wheeling him to an OR.

The heart monitor was beeping steadily. The heart was moving- beating. Nico and Hazel, stood side by side watching Dr Chase performing surgery- unfortunately, they weren't assisting however they were still getting tested on their medical knowledge. The OR had it’s regular flicker of lights, the smell of antiseptics and the hues of blue across the room.

“I saw Allison, you can't believe the beating that she took and then you see this!” Nico whisper-shouted towards Hazel.

“It's like that old saying- you should see the other guy.” Hazel nodded.

“Why aren't we attempting to re-attach the severed penis?” Annabeth's stern but questioning voice cut through their conversation.

“Teeth tear not slice- you can only reattach when there's a clean cut. If she had sliced it off with a knife, perhaps then we could re-attach,” Hazel quickly recited.

“And the digestive juices didn't leave a lot of the flesh to work with,” Nico added on.

“So what are we doing?” Dr Chase asked, a hint of boredom lingering in her voice.

“Sewing him up minus a large part of the family jewels,” Nico snorted slightly.

“What will his outlook be?” Dr Chase asked while holding her hand out for the nurse to take the instrument out of her hand.

“He will be urinating out of a bag for a very very very long time,” Hazel said, slightly pleased.

“Not to mention he will never be able to have sex again,” Nico said, not in least bit sympathetic.

“Oh too bad, what a shame,” Hazel drawled.

“Let's all take a moment to grieve,” Annabeth said sarcastically before immediately asking for a clamp.

Hour 25

“Chief!” Frank jogged, trying to catch up with Chiron while waving frantically. He had taken time off and realised if he wanted this, he had to think about everyone- not just himself. He needed to learn his faults and how to get over them.

“Frank.” Chiron nodded, “Do you need something?”

“Why can’t I be chief? You helped me before, you believed in me, what changed?”

“You really want to know?” Chiron sighed looking at Frank who nodded. “You’re too comfortable in your job. You never go the extra step. Your arrogance isn’t impressive- if you want to be chief Frank, you have to earn it.”

The words knocked Frank back- My arrogance isn’t impressive? If I recall correctly, you told me to be more arrogant and now it’s a problem? You tell someone to do something and then you tell them to do the exact opposite. What in the name of Pluto is his problem?

The interns were all pretty different but they could agree that they hated their job. They were sitting on the stretchers by the vending machine (which at this point had become their hangout away from the attendings) and were complaining- which apparently makes up 80% of all human conversations.

“My head hurtss,” Grover groaned, throwing backwards against the wall.

“Maybe you have a brain tumor,” Hazel said after sipping some coffee.

“No, you want me to have a tumor.”

“I'd personally rip your face off if it meant I got to scrub in,” Hazel confessed, not feeling guilty in the slightest. Juniper made her way from the vending machine, holding a snickers bar like her life depended on it.

“I've been suturing all day, my hands are numb and I'm regretting not taking foregin languages in high school,” she sighed as she plopped her bottom onto the stretcher, leaving space for Nico and Jason.

“At least you’re helping people,” Jason called as he put his hand up the vending machine in an attempt to retrieve his chips which had decided to not obey the laws of physics and get stuck. Nico who stood behind him shuffled Jason out the way, gave the vending machine a violent kick before the packet of chips fell out, directly into Jason's hands- that was until Nico literally stole them from him.

“At least you get to practise freakin medicine!” Grover called out, sick of delivering lab results to patients.

“Mrs Lu, the chinese lady, I had to send her away. I mean I stiched her up but she stayed camping in the Pit- she left in the end though,” Juni said in a defeated tone.

“The police can't send some crime person down so I have to spend the night with a penis,” Nico complained before looking over to Grover, “ Grover don’t make the joke.”

Grover tutted, “It was too easy anyway.”

Finally, Jason cut in the conversation. They were all sick of being used and not actually learning. Gosh, did the hospital not realise that they were also doctors- not useless med students who couldn’t find their heads from their ass!

“Who here has no idea what they’re doing?” Jason cried. Everyone, except Grover, shot their hands up. Nico was not ashamed to admit he did not know what he was meant to be doing- saving lives or babysitting penises?

“Are we meant to be learning something? Because I don’t think I'm learning anything!” Jason added as he slumped further in the stretcher that they were all sharing.

“Except how not to sleep,” Juniper retorted.

“It's like there’s this wall and the attendings and the residents are over there being surgeons and were over here being-” Hazel started passionately but was cut off by her brother.

“- Suturing, code running, lab delivering penis minders,” Nico finished.

“I hate being an intern,” Grover concluded. Nico seated beside him grunted in agreement. The interns continued their mindless complaints until Dr Chase walked in, her expression stern and her arms resting on her hips in a manner that screamed And what exactly do you think you’re doing? All it took was a raised eyebrow from Dr Chase and the interns were scrambling off the stretcher and rushing off back to their jobs. She snatched the unopened pack of chips that Nico had left on the stretcher and helped herself.

Nico often made very bad decisions. It was something the people around simply expected of him at this point- if it wasn’t Bianca then it was Hazel or Percy (but normally Percy would also join in on the bad decisions). Despite being warned not to, Nico found himself staring at the baby from the NICU earlier. As Nico looked up slightly, he saw 2 people cooing towards a baby and Nico could only assume that they were the parents. He could feel the dumb and stupid thoughts brewing and bubblinmg in his mind. He tried to stop them, he tried to tell himself to not move towards them but he couldn’t help himself- he never could in all honesty. While Nico was a very patient person sometimes, some impulses just couldn’t be left on stand-by.

As Nico finished explaining to the parents what he believed to be wrong with the child, the intern in pink scrubs from earlier who had specifically told Nico to leave walked into the communal area. Nico was absolutely busted- car lights on, bambi style busted.

“I warned you to not come back here,” They snarled before beheading into another room and practically grabbing Leo Valdez by the arm. Leo slowly retracted his arm out of their grasp before dusting it lightly.

“Hi, can I help you?” Leo started, his lips parted in a gorgeous and genuine grin- something that even Nico had to admit was cute.

“If our baby is sick, we want him treated,” The parents started, their voices thick with worry and concern. Nico could practically hear the tremble in it.

“Of course, which child is yours?” Leo asked with his professionalist front- he’d have to deal with the interns later.

Frank hated the interns. He hated Chiron and he hated his life. Not necessarily in that order. He was used to the incompetence of the interns. He was used to them making mistakes or hesitating but the one thing he wasn’t used to was pure disobedience. He had directly told Di Angelo to not approach peds or any of their cases. So what exactly Di Angelo was doing with Valdez and his intern talking to a pair of seemingly very concerned parents, Frank honestly did not know and would have liked to have kept it that way.

“Dr Valdez, can we speak for a second?” Frank asked. He and Leo were good friends, he knew that Leo wouldn’t get offended or turn it into a scandal.

“Sure, I’d like to know what on earth is going on though. No offence, but your intern shouldn’t be here,” Leo started, his hand brushing his curls out of his face.

“I told you earlier to not come back and look who’s here!” The intern snarked in Nico’s face.

“The baby had a tetralogy spell* earlier and a heart murmur- they aren't consistent with a benign systolic ejection murmur!” Nico argued. Frank turned to the intern, he could already see them faltering. He wouldn’t call himself scary- it was mainly just him being tall and built like a marine, not that he really cared.

“How sure are you? How sure are you that it is a benign systolic ejection murmur? 100 percent sure?” Frank turned to the intern. He watched as their face twisted, like they had just realised that they had been a fly trapped in a spider's web.

“Are you 100 percent sure about the diagnosis?” Leo turned towards his resident, a look of hesitation and slight horror creeping up onto his face. His previous interns from the past 2 years were so much easier than this. Everyone listened to him, barely anyone died and there weren’t sneaky, semi- famous italian legacies sneaking into his department. Not that he blamed Nico, in fact he had to admit that he was secretly impressed with the doctors observation skills- especially considering he was an intern. But after all, he was a Di Angelo.

“I dunno...like 75 percent..” They mumbled towards the floor. Gods, if his intern was wrong, it would be on his ass! How on earth was he about to mess up so badly? This was his 3rd year in residency- he couldn’t afford to screw up.

“Can I see the patient's chart?” Dr Zhang held his hand out towards the intern who hastily handed it over- as if it was a ticking time bomb. Dr Zhang flipped through a few pages, pretending to read them. In reality, he had already made up his mind and was just humming the tune to Stayin alive .

“Valdez, the patient's on my service now. That chill with you?” Frank concluded. Leo gave a thumbs up, slightly relieved to have some sort of work off his back but also slightly saddened that an interesting case was snatched out of his hands by his ignorant intern.

“I want an EKG*, chest X- ray and an Echo*, let's make it quick, we don't have all day,” Frank told Nico, who nodded before quickly running off.

“He can do that?” They whispered into Leo’s ear with an astonished tone.

“Yeah, he's attending.”

“So is your girlfriend.”

“She is not my girlfriend!” Leo protested as the intern raised an eyebrow. Leo did not have a strong case here, considering Calypso was always seen with him or vice Versa. In fact, they often arrived and left the hospital together, worked on similar cases and they knew each other's coffee orders like the back of their hand. It wasn’t like anything could happen between them. In reality, they arrived and left together due to their apartments being in a close proximity, they had similar cases co-incidentally due to their specialties and well, the coffee orders… Well that was hard to explain- how would Leo say Oh yeah, I just watch her everytime she orders her coffee because her lips look very very nice and soft and when she takes a sip, her eyes flutter a bit and it makes her eyes look magical and then there’s when she’s getting mad at me because I’m taking ages to leave my apartment and she just looks like she’s about to implode but in a very sexy, cute and beautiful way.

Yeah, no way was he saying any of that.

Hour 30

Was there anything left to do? Juni had been here for so long she could practically feel the fluorescent lights in her head. The Pit was empty, the blue stretchers all cleaned up with no patients walking in. There was officially nothing to do- empty emergency and waiting room. For the sake of checking, Juni walked into the waiting room one more time, looking around for any injured souls- alas, there were none.

Except Mrs Lu, who stood in the middle of the hallway, waving her hand towards Juni as if she was gesturing for her to follow her. Juni looked around- it wasn't as if there were any patients here, what could go wrong? She tiptoed outside into the brutal thundering of the rain, which plastered her hair to her face and her white coat to her scrubs. The wind was chilly and strong- whispering to her temptations and desires. The wind was always so ethereal- it could destroy but it could also be beautiful.

“Mrs Lu? Where are you taking me?” Juniper called out as she jogged blind in the dark while the wind whipped around her face. She found herself crouching behind the large industrial hospital bins. A young girl, barely into her early 20s sat there with a large bloody wound across her forehead. On viewing it, Juniper immediately hissed. The gash looked deep and Juni could already see the edges of it forming a scab. There was blood stuck to her face, some infiltrating the tip of her eyelids and the girl herself was trying to not screw her eyes in pain.

“Oh my gods…What.. What happened?” Juni was speechless.

“A big machine in the factory.. it .. it fall on us,” the girl explained. Juniper was relieved- she knew a bit of english, enough for Juniper to understand.

“It’s going to be okay now, you can come inside an-”

“-No! No, no inside. Here!” The girl protested frantically, shaking her head back and forth which made Juniper think Ouch .

“But, I need to stitch you up and she went inside.” Juniper pointed to Mrs Lu.

“She allowed, me not allowed! I will go jail!”

Juniper realised what she was trying to tell her. Mrs Lu was a legal immigrant but the girl was an illegal one. An overwhelming amount of sympathy and admiration surged inside of Juniper. The amount of bravery this poor girl must have and all the stuff she must have gone through. Juniper knew that if she helped the girl and was caught- everything would be over. A small voice in her head was telling her to help- she was doctor after all, she took the hippocratic oath which stated I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures which are required

“The injury is deep but I think I can fix it. I need to go and get some stuff first so you have to stay here okay. Stay here.”

The girl nodded, the corner of her lips turning into a grateful smile, “Thank you.”

As Juniper was about to jog back to the hospital, she remembered she did not have one piece of information that she got from every patient- illegal or not.

“One question, what’s your name? I’m Juni,” She asked.

“Nuwa. Nuwa Lu,” the girl responded with comfort settling onto her face.

Nico didn’t like that he was short. He constantly had to push to the front of crowds, people were often belittling and it also meant he had to walk twice as fast to catch up with people who were like 6’4- Like Dr Zhang. He was not afraid to admit that he was short- he simply didn’t like that for some reason it was a bad thing; if anything, it meant he was an eco-friendly version of a human.

“Dr Zhang,” Nico sounded slightly out of breath, “ What’s the diagnosis?”

“It was the tetralogy of fallot with pulmonary atresia*. I’m booking an OR,” he confirmed.

Nico stopped walking as Frank stood by the elevator. Normally, Nico preffered to simply nod at people when they expected a thank you. It was just 2 words that he would never expect to come blurting his mouth and honestly he did not expect the words Thank you to come out when he spoke to Dr Zhang so of course, he did not say thank you. Yes, he was grateful but Thank you? To Nico, that was almost as close to I love you on the list of forbidden words.

“I appreciate you backing me up here-”

“-Nuh uh. Listen kid, you were right one time but what you did, going behind another doctor's back and speaking to the parents, trying to steal a patient from another service. Don’t ever pull that again, you got it?” Dr Zhang reprimanded him. He knew that Di Angelo had a lot of potential but if he was gonna think with his head in his ass all the time, there were going to be problems

Nico knew this was Dr Zhang's version of- you did good but also you did bad. In all honesty, Nico couldn’t care less. In fact, he was so smugly obsessed that he was right that he was very much beyond okay with being told off if it meant he was right, it was worth it. Especially since that smug little intern thought that they were so right in their gloriously pathetic little mind.

Will did not like feeling like this. He had been lucky to avoid it all his life but for some god forsaken reason, depression had started to chase him. So he took a job where he would have no time for depression- if you’re working 24/7 you don't really ever get the chance to listen to your thoughts. But as he sat down at the desk by Allison trying to focus on his charting, he could feel himself slowly losing all motivation. The beeping on the heart monitor, which normally drew a large smile across Will’s face, wasn’t helpful- it was depressing. The entire room felt bland, empty and he could feel his mind and thoughts going numb. He was trying to hold his head up, trying to be strong for his patient, trying to finish the day without having a slump. His eyes flickered back up towards Allison, whose eyes had remained closed- as if she was vegetable.

“Okay, you’re all sewn up!” Juni finished up the last touches of the stitches of Nuwa’s forehead before rolling back the squeaky old chair that she was sitting on.

“Nuwa, you might have a scar and you have to come back in 5 days okay? I need to take out the stitches and clean the wound to make sure it doesn’t get infected. So you need to come back. We will meet here, same place at 7pm. 5 days okay?” Juniper informed, trying to not rush her words all out in a panic. She watched as Nuwa gave a small nod with a shy smile indicating she understood. As Juniper packed up, she realised she had to remind Nuwa of something else.

“Oh but you can’t tell anybody that I helped you outside the hospital. I might lose my medical license and my job. Do you understand?”

“Come back in 5 days and dont tell.” Nuwa nodded eagerly towards Juni who gave her a brief hug.

“Dr Chase, do you think I’m too confident?” Dr Zhang anxiously asked. He didn’t think he’d ever have to ask such a question. To him, it seemed obvious- no. Frank recalled all his life, simply never having the confidence to do things and sure, he had boosted it up a slight notch by becoming a surgeon- a world renowned one none the less- but he wouldn’t call himself overconfident.

“No,” Annabeth answered bluntly but Zhang knew her better than she thought he did.

“Don’t lie,” Frank mumbled slightly.

“You are my boss,” Annabeth retorted. Anyone who had been nearby would have immediately snorted at such a comment- When did Annabeth Chase actually care about her bosses opinions?

“Fine, in the next 30 seconds anything you say, I will not take to heart, starting now.” Frank raised his watch before diverting his eyes to his resident who immediately started talking.

A bit eager, Chase?

“I think you’re cocky, arrogant, bossy and pushy. You also have a god complex,” Annabeth started which caused Frank to frown. God Complex? Since when?

“You never think about anybody but your damn self- “

“- Hey wait a-”

“-I have another 22 seconds and I am not done.”

Frank scratched his head while rethinking his life decisions. The most prominent thought at hand was-

Oh shit maybe this wasn't a great idea

The interns were serving their last hour on call and it had gotten to the point where they were all desperate for their lives at work to come to an end. Jason, Juniper and Hazel were all in the locker room, freshening up and looking forward to leaving the hospital.

“I need a drink, a man or a massage or a drunken massage by a man,” Hazel mused. A short ‘ew’ came from Juniper as she brushed through her knotty hair. Jason on the other hand, did not respond and instead was violently harassing his teeth with his toothbrush. Hazel took one short glance at Jason before an alarmed look creeped onto her face.

“What's wrong with you?” She asked, slipping on a new scrub shirt.

“I lost 5 patients today and I feel like the angel of death,” he spat his toothpaste out, as if he had a deep vendetta against it.

“Hey at least you're not the actual angel of death. I’m pretty sure there’s a serial killer with that alias,” Hazel responded thinking about her conversation with Nico. For some reason The angel of death reminded her of some conversation they’d had.

“Charles Cullen- convicted of 40 murders, suspected of more- currently in prison on life sentence and is 60 years old,” Nico recited as he walked into the locker room. Juniper and Jason both stopped dead in their tracks, slightly alarmed at the information that was spilling out of Nico’s mouth like he memorized it for fun.

The best part was he actually did memorise it for fun.

Casting her eyes away from her brother, who in no way surprised her with that information, Hazel sighed, “Jason, 95% of code patients can't be revived. Most are already dead by the time you get there.”

“What! Why didn't you tell me that when I was going on and on about how great it was gonna be!” Jason cried, embarrassed about his bragging. Hazel took a deep breath as she made her way to exit the room.

“Because, you’re Jason and I’m Hazel.”

Hour 40

Nico was getting really sick about the penis in a box. It literally had to follow him everywhere and worst of all, people asked him what was inside it. What kind of conversation starter was ‘oh, just a bitten off penis’? So when Nico saw Dr Solace still in the room of Allison he felt slightly relieved- at least Dr Solace wouldn’t ask him what was in the box; mainly because Dr Solace was in the surgery where the penis was retrieved.

As Nico approached Dr Solace, he noticed that he wasn't really there. His eyes seemed less alive, less sparkly and more like the dull blue hues of the hospital. It was just something about the way his hand had propped up his face as if he had no further energy to continue anything that made Nico slightly alarmed for him.

Alarmed? You’re just worried that he may pass out because then it would mean no more surgeries.

At least, that's what Nico told himself. Besides, he had other things to worry about- like how he was going to lead Solace on. Afterall, there was a reason he was putting up with him.

“Hey, how’s Allison?” Nico asked, standing directly behind Will. Will, depressed as ever responded in a small tone.

“So far, nothing’s changed.”

“Have you been here all night?” Nico asked in slight astonishment and borderline concern.

“Yep. I have 3 brothers and a sister. They’re all doctors as well. If I was in a coma, they’d all be here- I’d want them here because having nobody… I can’t imagine that.”

“I can.”

Nico hadn’t meant for the small comment to slip out of his mouth. Wills face scrunched up immediately as he turned his head to look at the intern.

“What are you on about? What about your sister?”

For a fraction of a second, Nico was horrified at the thought that somehow Will had figured out that Hazel and Nico were siblings. But then Nico remembered that Hazel levesque was not an infamous name within the world of doctors and Bianca Di Angelo was.The first person to come to mind was Hazel, not Bianca. The guilt was overwhelming- did this mean Nico was forgetting his sister? He couldn’t do that, not when she needed him! Hazel was just a girl who happened to make sarcastic quips like him, who just happened to stand up for him, who happened to be slightly related to him. So what? Did it make them family? No! In Nico’s eyes, they weren’t even siblings. Just 2 people who had to get on with each other for the sake of others around them, Bianca was his real sister.

“That’s true, I do have my sister,” Nico said but even as the words left his lips, he knew he wasn’t talking about Bianca.

“She’d be ordering surgeons around and flying cowboys* from Prague to do amazing medical procedures,” Will continued as he got up to throw a wrapper in the bin. When he returned, he leaned against the door frame slightly, as if he was a bad boy in one of those high school cliche films.

“So we’re kissing but we’re not dating, huh?” One of his eyebrows raised slightly resulting in a ridiculous face that Nico believed to be hilarious- not that he’d ever let Solace know that he thought that. Nico fell back into scheming mode- if the conversation was heading where he thought it was, he needed to have his manipulative little plan out and ready.

“I’m all for the kissing. In fact, there should be more kissing,” Will hummed.

“I don’t know how or why it happened,” Nico admitted.

“Is it gonna happen again?” Will asked before lowering his voice, “ I need to bring some breath mints. Put some condoms in my wallet.” Will winked and Nico could physically feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He had never blushed this badly in his entire life- not even when Percy winked at him.

Abort! Abort! This was not part of the plan. Why are you blushing you incompetent good for nothing nincompoop!

“There’s this baby upstairs in peds. It’s new and not neglected. It hasn’t been disappointed by anyone or rejected. How do we get from there to here? Alisson is wearing my boots and someone has beaten the crap out of her and here she is with nobody.” Nico was practically counting down the minutes left before he could leave at this point. However, before Will could respond, a rapid beeping came from one of the machines hooked up to Allison. Will scurried forward in a panic.

“Her ICP* has doubled. Page Jackson and get an OR ready- tell them to prep for a craniotomy*. Hang a mannitol and take a blood gas*!” Will shouted over the frantic beeping of the machine.

Nico was pacing back and forth. He felt like he was Allison’s mother. There she was in surgery all by herself and he- someone who had never met her- was pacing back and forth like they had known each other their entire lives. His head practically shot up as he saw Will and Percy come through the doors he had been waiting in front of. Solace shot him a sympathetic smile as he walked past- Percy on the other hand had stayed in front of Nico and his expressions looked grave.

How was Percy meant to say this? This was his childhood best friend of his entire life and he was somehow meant to tell him that his patient was most likely now a vegetable. He didn’t know why it was going to be so hard- Nico was someone who knew how to take news. Sure, Nico never took it well and would often just isolate himself until someone forcefully dragged his butt out but he would never break down. Well, Percy had never thought he had.

“I had to leave a flap of her skull open until the pressure and swelling in her brain goes down,” Percy confessed nervously, ruffling his messy hair that had been matted down under his scrub cap.

In a pained voice, Nico whispered, “She isn’t gonna make it.”

Percy hadn’t heard Nico use such a voice since his mother had passed away. Nico had been a bit different after that- as one would expect- but the tone that he had adapted when the tragedy occurred was a tone that truly inspired fear in Percy. It was the voice of calamity combined with pain. It was like destruction without the anger, it was like love without the trust, it was like a human with no soul. It was heart wrenching.

“She’ll be fine,” Percy insisted as he pulled Nico into a hug, letting the shorter boy rest his head on his shoulder. Nico wondered if Percy was right. He liked the possibility, the chance that it was true.

But Nico realised that she’d only be alright if she ever woke up.

Nico and never been happier to sign off the custody of something away from himself. Finally, the penis he had been carrying around owud no longer be his possession- he already had a dick, thank you very much. Just ask Solace.

Will and Percy did not really interact with each other much. It wasn't anything personal but they just both run such busy departments that hanging out was something much easier said rather than done. Despite this, they were together as they stormed into the room of 312. Percy and Will were not violent people- they were surgeons, doctors, sworn under the hippocratic oath to do no harm. But it would be an understatement of the year if one were to say that they did not look like terrifying bloodthirsty hungry beasts as they slammed the light on and snarled as they walked into the room of the rapist.

Will slammed his hand onto the side of the stretcher. Once, twice and a third time. It startled the man in bed to jump awake. Threateningly, Will slammed his hand above the man in the stretcher so he was practically leaning over him while Percy stood on the other side with both hands resting on the other handle of the bed.

“We have good and bad news. The good news is that my unbiased girlfriend who is also an exceptional surgeon managed to stop you from bleeding to death,” Percy snarled.

“The bad news is we’ve given your penis to the cops. Have a nice life,” Will growled as both men left the room with Will slamming the door so hard, the hinges rattled.

Nico enjoyed watching the babies. He however, did not enjoy watching the babies with Jason, Juniper and Hazel. Watching a cooing to babies was a very private matter- if word ever got out to his attendings that this happened… well Dr Zhang had already warned him. As he watched them, he realised they get the chance to start afresh. They may have no knowledge but they give people the chance to start afresh, to be something else and change opinions.

“All right, you guys can move in,”Nico groaned, giving up. Jason and Juniper squealed, jumping up and down celebrating.

“I can't believe I caved,” Nico admitted.

Hazel snorted, “I blame the babies.”

Hour 48

The world felt groggy as her eyelids fluttered. This wasn't her cheap New York hotel room, the lights wouldn't be on. She wanted to breathe but she couldn't do it alone-she could feel something obstructing her throat. It felt like something had been forced down there and immediately memories had come flooding back. The rapist, how she had been forced to her knees, the beating. She realised this must be the hospital and if she could think and her eyes were open, then she must be alive. She watched as a doctor with curly blond hair looked at her with astonishment before grabbing the arm of another doctor- with sea green eyes and a mop of balck hair on his head.

The elevator always took ages to arrive and always took even longer to get you to the floor you wanted. Will did not mind this. Nico on the other hand, definitely minded this. He had beds to sleep in and mythomagic cards to nerd out with.

“It's intense, this thing I have for ferry boats again,” Wills voice cut straight through Nico’s thoughts. Nico turned his head to look at the source of the voice.

Of course it's you

Nico knew what would happen if they climbed the empty elevator and he was tired. Part of his plan was revived around Will Solace pinning after him and this was the perfect chance to start it.

“I’m soo taking the stairs this time,” Nico decided.

“You have no self control!” Will called out knowing Nico’s reason for not boarding the elevator, “ It’s sad really!”

Hour 49

“Hey Reyna, pass the coat next to you,” Percy asked as he grabbed his bag off the floor and kissed Annabeth on her head. Reyna tossed the coat towards Percy before grabbing her backpack and zipping up her jacket. The attendings and residents filtered out slowly, one by one leaving Leo in there by himself. Leo didn’t mind being alone. In fact, he enjoyed it. There was something about being able to hum songs while you worked with no distractions that simply appealed to him. He was currently humming a song his Tia Callida had taught him when he was little.

“Are you humming?” A voice came from behind him. Normally, Leo would have ignored the voice or made a snarky remark but he recognised this voice.

“What! Uh, no?” He shrugged sheepishly as he turned around to look at Calypso who had her eyes half closed as if she was enjoying the tune.

“Oh don’t try lying to me Leonidas . I liked it anyway,” she admitted as she leaned forward to access the coffee machine. Calypso was the only person who knew Leo’s full name and the only person he’d ever let get away with calling him that. Leo could feel a rush of butterflies from Calypso's compliment. While it seemed minor, Leo rarely got compliments- so he appreciated them but he also did not know how to properly take one without blubbering.

“What are you still doing here?” Leo asked.

“Hoping to get rid of me I see?”

“No! No, it’s just we came in at the same time and your shift is over so you’re probably tired so you should probably go home and relax,” Leo rambled.

“You also came in at the same time you know. You shouldn't be here as well.”

That shut Leo up. He sat himself on the sofa, not wanting to move. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tired and sleep sounded so nice right now but he did not want to go home. Every time he went back to his apartment, the nightmares would come rushing back and he would wake up covered in sweat. It was like he was cursed.

“Are you okay?” Calypso’s voice sounded concerned.

“I should be asking you that mi amor.” Leo winked before mentally slapping himself. Why on earth did he call her that? Everyone knows that mi amor means my love- it's practically common knowledge!

“You aren’t going to sweet talk your way out of my question Leonidas.” Calypso’s eyes narrowed slightly as she sat on the sofa next to Leo. He sat with one leg slightly bent on the sofa and the other dangling off it whereas Calypso had both her legs crossed as if she was back in nursery.

“I’m tired Callie. Aren’t you?”

“We’re surgeons. It’s what we signed up for. And I’ve seen you tired before Valdez, you aren’t like this.”

“Like this?”

“So… distant. You’ve barely gone on any rants or tangents since forever. You only order black coffee or an almost suicidal amount of espresso now. Everytime you smile, you only do it because someone just approaches you, otherwise your face is unreadable or miserable!” Calypso cried, throwing one of her arms up.

“Just because I’m less talkative Callie doesn’t mean there’s something wrong. I need to coffee to stay awake,” Leo defended himself calmly, holding both of Calypso’s hands to help keep her from exploding.

“What is keeping you up that you need so much caffeine? Is it work, family… a partner?” Calypso’ face physically scrunched up at the idea of Leo losing sleep over doing the deed with another person.

“I...I’m just not getting as much sleep as I should be getting. You know how tough work can be on residents especially because I’m looking for a peds fellowship,” Leo lied through his teeth. He could feel the empty pit of anxiety inside of him calm slightly as he saw the stressed out facial features of Calypso relax. While he felt guilty for lying, he felt better that it wasn’t stressing her out so much. It was only then that he noticed how close their bodies were. They weren’t extremely close but they weren't exactly far away either.

“I've got to tell you about this couple I had today. So the mother is all excited because she wants a boy and the dad is really really excited because he wanted a girl and they’re both arguing back and forth about which one the baby will be. So I do the ultrasound and guess what!”

“What?” Leo asked, practically smitten with her features. The way her eyes widened with glee as she talked about her patients, or how her smile was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her cheeks had these dimples that would appear every time she spoke but when she smiled, the ones under her eyes would show up and it was always endgame for him then. Her eyes were like pools of honey- sweet, delicate and magical. There was just something about the way her curly hair would always be in a tropical hairstyle as if she was on a beach that made him want to kiss her.

“They had twins! Yeah, so it was a case of twin to twin transfusion syndrome* and one was a boy and the other a girl. So in the end they both got what they wanted and I got myself a very very interesting case!”

Leo chuckled as he watched her rant. As they fell into conversation about their patients, they got closer and closer until they both had their arms leaning on the sofa and were gazing at each other's faces. Calypso’s eyes drifted downwards towards Leo’s rolled up sleeves- as they always did. As her eyes traveled upwards, she spotted something by Leo’s collarbone- like a flick of ink. She didn’t know if she read it right but it looked like it said Bad Boy Supreme with a small fire around it.

“Is that.. Is that a tattoo?” Calypso asked, her hand reaching forward to pull at his shirt slightly to gain a better view. Caught slightly off guard, Leo froze before remembering that he did in fact have a tattoo. He unbuttoned the first 3 buttons to give her a better view.

“Leonidas… did you actually… oh my gods.” Her hand had accidentally pressed on Leo’s chest which was surprisingly muscle. Leo looked scrawny, wasn’t the tallest (still taller than Nico) and didn’t hang out with any other people beside his colleagues so Calypso was not expecting a firm plate of muscle to be directly underneath her palm.

“Yep. You said I should get Bad Boy Supreme tattooed, so I did,” he said rather shakily. Could you blame him though? You try talking normally while the girl you’re in love with touches your chest and has her face up so close against it you could feel her breath.

“I did not think you had it in you,” she confessed, her face still close to his chest with her finger now tracing the art.

“ Mamacita , I’m offended,” he huffed jokingly. She raised her head slightly to raise an eyebrow only to be slightly alarmed at how close they were. If she moved one millimeter upwards, their lips would touch. Her hand was warm on his chest and she could feel his heart beating slightly faster as she traced the words of his tattoo. Her other hand was in his hair- the luxurious chocolate curls which obstructed his face bothered her- she wanted to see his eyes. She pushed them back ever so slightly. She was so close to his face, she could see the different shades of brown that pooled in his eyes- in a sort of chaotic manner that made his eyes look majestic. She couldn't help but stare into them and draw herself close to him- his eyes were honey and she was a bee. She dared to move her head slightly higher so that their eyes locked. They knew what each other were thinking. They could feel each other's thoughts.

Leo kept his gaze on Calypso’s eyes which had darted down to his lips. She watched as he swallowed and his lips parted softly. She raised her head and moved slightly forward and they could each other breath dancing on their lips. Their lips brushed, like a painter's first stroke on a canvas. They were slow, not desperate- it was like they had all the time in the world. Their lips were barely touching like butterfly wings. Leo could feel her warmth and inhale the coffee on her breath. Just as they were about to truly kiss, Leo’s pager started beeping making them both scramble backwards away from each other.

Without another word, Leo got up and left the room.

All the things that have a little * by it will have definitions down here! Code team: The team on call who are required to respond to a code blue which is when someone's heart has stopped GCS: Stands for the Glasgow Coma Scale. It measures a person's level of consciousness after a brain injury- it measures the function of the eyes, body and speech. BP: Is an abbreviation for the 'blood pressure'. Ventilator: Is a machine that essentially provides air for your body when you cannot do it yourself- often patients who suffer extreme injuries will be put on a ventilator. BA: Stands for bachelor of Arts which is an undergraduate degree- please keep in mind that it's not a literal degree in art, it's just called that. PHD: Stands for Doctor of Philosophy. Once again, this isn't a literal doctorate degree in Philosophy. MD: Stands for Doctor of Medicine- now this is a degree that is literally in medicine. Asystole Pulse: In the most basic way I could put it, flatlining. That means that the heart has completely stopped. Benign tumour: If a tumour is benign, it is harmless or not posing any threat to the body. Benign systolic ejection murmurs: Is normally a harmless condition where the heart makes a murmur because something is obstructing the valves in the heart. Tetralogy spell: When there is a quick drop in oxygen in the body and it makes the skin appear blue. EKG: Stands for electrocardiogram which is when those wires are stuck to your chest so that they can measure your heart's electrical signals. An EKG can also be called an ECG. Echo: An 'echo' is an abbreviation of echocardiogram- not to be confused with electrocardiogram. An echocardiogram is basically an ultrasound of the heart. Fallot of tetralogy with pulmonary atresia: This is a very complicated condition but essentially, it's the result of the 5 defects that this condition causes in the heart. Cowboy doctor: Is a doctor who is so definite in their diagnosis, they refuse to consider any other options. ICP: Stands for intracranial pressure which is just the pressure in your brain. Craniotomy: Not to get confused with a craniectomy, a craniotomy is when a piece of skull is removed temporarily to expose the brain. Mannitol: Mannitol is a sugar alcohol that can be used to decrease the intracranial pressure. TTS: Also known as Twin to Twin transfusion syndrome is a rare condition where twins in the womb share the same placenta- the result of this is one child getting more oxygen and nutrients than the other.

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johnny-and-dora · 4 years

Text

you and i are very close

"A younger Holt less familiar with Jake Peralta would reprimand him for being so easy to read – but it seems to be in his very nature to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the truth is, it suits him."

or, jake & holt talk about fatherhood. (post 7x10)

read on ao3 -

“…So that’s the lowdown on the Broughton case. Charles and I are gonna head out and arrest them as soon as the warrant comes through.” Jake finishes, bouncing slightly on his heels as he finishes the update. Raymond Holt leans back in his chair, content with their plan of action.

“Excellent work, detective.” Holt says – but then finds himself mildly concerned when he only receives a subdued nod in reply. While he may deem it an appropriate workplace response to a captain’s praise, it is far from the excessive energy and enthusiasm that Jake usually exudes.

Raymond recalls the previous night’s events – a biological sex reveal party that led to Jake’s father being taken to the ER – and wonders if that might be placating the detective’s usually golden Labrador-like temperament.

“I trust that your father is in good health?” He asks tentatively, gesturing for Jake to sit down- he pauses for a moment before doing so, leg jostling in a way that increases Holt’s concern by 17.5%.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Sorry our party was kind of a full-blown disaster. Guess I should have expected that with three generations of Peraltas in the room.” He makes the self-deprecating remark with the light-hearted bravado Holt has come to expect from the detective, though it’s notably flatter than usual.

What’s more, his smile is more of a grimace, and he can’t stop fidgeting with the badge around his neck – a classic Peralta tell. Something is clearly bothering him, likely related to his complex relationship with his father and his own fatherhood looming.

A younger Holt less familiar with Jake Peralta would reprimand him for being so easy to read – but it seems to be in his very nature to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the truth is, it suits him. It is an openness, a trust and a sincerity that Holt has earned over the years as Jake’s superior officer. Though he still finds himself exasperated by his stubbornness and fixation on action films, Holt sincerely values his respect and loyalty.

He frowns, trying to assess the best way to discreetly discern what could be causing the detective’s distress.

“I actually found the party to be rather enjoyable, save the alarming bloodshed. The carrots were rich in nutrition and I thought the cake’s green colour made a very interesting and progressive statement.”

Jake’s lips quirk up a little at that, and he sits straighter in the chair, so Holt must be doing something right.

“Thank you, Captain, but that actually wasn’t our intention. Just another screw-up.”

“I see.” He considers this new information briefly, before attempting to continue the non-case related chitter-chatter, something he usually avoids. “So, you are now aware of the biological sex of your child?”

“Oh, yeah! We’re having a boy.” Jake finally smiles genuinely, and Raymond can’t help but return it. He may not personally care much for small infants, but the thought of the bickering detectives he first met when he came to the Nine-Nine having a child together does inspire some fatherly pride over how far they’ve come.

“My congratulations to you both.” He nods again, but his gaze is still far away. Holt decides to subtly switch tactics.

“You know, whatever doubts may be plaguing you, I am certain you have absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your son is very lucky to have you both as parents.”

“What? I’m not, um, there’s absolutely zero doubts to be found here.” Jake’s eyebrows briefly shoot up to his hairline as he stammers some typically poorly concealed denial. Holt remains neutral, wishing he had done some research on the subject but doing his best to power through.

“It is perfectly natural to be anxious about such things.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the gentle encouragement is all that it takes for a veritable avalanche of emotions to trip over themselves as Jake speaks.

“I guess I just…I want to be the best dad I can be. I don’t want him to ever feel like…like he’s been abandoned or he’s alone. It’s crazy how much I already love this kid and I haven’t even met him yet, but I know I would do absolutely anything to keep him safe. And with my dad talking about this stupid Peralta father-son curse and my grandpa being a jerk and walking out of our lives all over again…I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to let him – or Amy – down. Ever.”

Holt is admittedly, a little overwhelmed. He and Kevin have never seen the appeal of conforming to heteronormative ideals of family life, and yet he values his place as the head of the chosen family he’s found at the Nine-Nine. The mysteries of pregnancy and childcare are complete unknowns to him, yet he finds himself completely certain that Jake and Amy will be great parents to their future son.

So, Holt does what he has always found it easiest to do, and he tells Jake the truth.

“I am not sure of this family ‘curse’ you speak of, but as your commanding officer for the majority of the past seven years, I know your doubts are ill-founded. On the contrary, the dedication and loyalty you have shown me, and every member of this squad, only makes me surer you will be a great father.”

“Really?” Jake says, hopeful but apparently still unconvinced.

“This job is not an easy one. You and I know both know first-hand how our lives can be affected by circumstances we cannot control. But you would never willingly let your family down, and the fact that you are so committed to doing everything you can for them is a sure sign that you never will.” Holt pauses briefly to let his sincerity sink in.

“Your son is going to love you, Jake. He will grow to enjoy many Thomas Cruise films with you, and I’m sure he will come to share your passion for…the transforming robot sewer turtles?”

“Feel compelled to tell you those are two completely different franchises, but I really appreciate the attempt and I will be emailing Michael Bay’s team about a potential cross-over.”

“Well. Regardless of the specifics of these cartoon turtles, I am sure you have understood my point.”

“Yes. Thank you, sir. I- that means, uh, a lot.” His thanks is, as usual, completely earnest, and Holt finds himself glad to have helped in any small way. He cannot completely solve the detective’s issues with fatherhood, but he is happy to be one consistent and stable presence for Jake to rely on. Just as he knows he can rely on him.

“You are welcome. And you are free to discuss any other personal issues you may have with me, although I assume Santiago may be better suited to such conversations.”

“She’s been telling me pretty much the same thing.” Jake admits, shifting in his seat. Raymond briefly wonders about the intricacies of their home life, whether they will discuss this conversation over dinner or perhaps during the commercials of some form of media content.

“Well, I recommend you listen to her. She has proven herself to be extremely perceptive and is rarely ever wrong.”

“I know.” Jake grins, a very specific smile on his face that Holt recognises has long been reserved for talking about Amy, even before they began their courtship. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she married me.”

Holt thinks of years spent watching them endlessly bicker and argue and tease each other, thinks of the intimacy affection he sees most often when they are inebriated at Shaw’s bar. He thinks of how ragged and distraught they’ve been each time they’ve been forced apart and how relieved they were to be back together. He thinks of officiating their wedding and accidentally intruding on their honeymoon, and above all, he thinks about each moment of their shared happiness together he has been privileged enough to witness.

“I do not believe she was wrong about that either.”

It’s an expression of sentiment which breaches many of his strict rules of conduct and professionality in the workplace, and he’s partly reluctant to be debasing himself so willingly. But then Jake’s eyes are shining with gratitude and his usual enthusiastic bright demeanour has returned and Raymond can’t help but feel relieved.

“Oh my god, I always knew you were our secret number one fan. Charles is going to be crushed.”

“You are dismissed.”

“Noooo, but I really want to stay and talk about how invested you are in our relationship- “

“-Please leave my office.”

Holt maintains his usual stony-faced composure until Jake shuts the door – only then does he allow himself to relax in his seat a little, fondly thinking of Kevin, Cheddar and the family he has found in the Nine-Nine. He makes a note to discuss stuffed animal varieties with Kevin at a later date so that they may have something to present Jake and Amy’s son when he arrives.

And when he gets to meet the newest addition to the Santiago-Peralta family a few short months later, held oh-so-carefully and preciously in the arms of a man he has come to consider a son, it is a meeting that he treasures for the rest of his life.

#b99 #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 #listen. i have a lot of emotions about soon-to-be-father jake and his gay work dad #so here you go #my writing #shut up sian

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jetsetlife138 · 4 years

Text

Imaginary - Chapter 4

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Suggestive language, explicit language

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3

Note: Just a reminder to my uninformed and curious folks out there: Asexuals can become aroused. Asexuals can have the desire to become aroused. Asexuals can enjoy being aroused. Asexuals can take steps to becoming aroused. Asexuals can be aroused by someone else. Asexuals can be curious about arousal. Asexuals can alternatively have no interest in arousal. Asexuality doesn’t mean that you are celibate and have no interest in sex. Do yourself a favor and do some research. Talk to your ace friends. Trust me, they’re more than happy to educate you on that subject. Brace yourselves for another fun-filled chapter!

Looking back, acting so aggressively towards the infamous demon was probably not the smartest plan. It may have been a bit premature to assume that he was making any kind of sexual advances towards you. After all, he never really confirmed that was his intention. You may have just dug yourself into an even deeper hole.

Then again… you wouldn’t put it past him considering how he carried himself and also by the way Angel Dust encouraged more illicit behavior. Even with the small amount of time that you had spent with him, it was obvious that the Radio Demon was an opportunist, and also a crafty bastard who got off on manipulating others for his own personal gain. You had wondered if there was a part of him that genuinely wanted to help Charlie with the hotel, or if he had any ulterior motives. Maybe Vaggie had the right idea about him after all.

Whatever the case, you had to be smart about this. You weren’t going to get anywhere by being so negative. However, it was also important to brace yourself for any impending threat, especially considering that you were, after all, in Hell. Cartoon or not, this place was filled with evil creatures, and you had to watch your back.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself to leave the safety of your room, equally curious and terrified of what would await you in this mysterious land. Stepping out into the hall, you took a moment to really look around, admiring the creepy hotel structure as well as the art on the wall. Painting of strange beings lined the halls in old, corroded frames. You weren’t sure if the creatures on the canvas were important historical figures, or if they were just members of Charlie’s family. Either way, they were haunting.

Hearing a commotion downstairs, you decided to go and investigate. Following the noises, you had eventually found yourself in a large room where Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust were gathered together, bickering about something with an odd, furry cat demon who was positioned behind the bar next to them with an annoyed look on his face.

Upon seeing you enter, Charlie cut the conversation short, forcing a nervous grin. “Oh, hey there! How’s it going?”

Keeping your expression neutral, you replied, “I’m hanging in there, thanks. Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all!” she assured you, clearly deflecting. “We were just, uh… discussing tactics to get you home. It would help if we had a little more to go off of. Can you tell us more about you?”

“Just ask Alastor,” Angel suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. “The two a them were gettin’ real familiar upstairs. I’m sure he’d be happy to fill you in.”

“Um. What?” Vaggie snapped, her expression equally enraged and horrified.

Glaring at the spider-demon, he merely blew a kiss at you in return before snickering fiendishly, eager to see how this would play out.

“He came to my room after the two of you left,” you admitted, noting the nervous glances between Charlie and Vaggie. “It wasn’t a big deal. We just talked.”

“Oh, honey,” Angel began. “You was doin’ a lot more than that. These walls talk, babe. And these walls told me they saw you two in bed together.”

Oh, fuck. Not good.

Charlie looked horrified while Vaggie seemed to be on the brink of a conniption. “No, no, no, it wasn’t like that,” you urged, putting them slightly at ease. “He was trying to help me.”

“How is being in bed together helpful to your cause?” Vaggie pressed, clearly not buying it.

“He did something to me… I’m not even sure. He said that he could help me and then he put his hand on my head. Next thing I know, I’m blacking out. I woke up later in the bed, and he just happened to be lying next to me. That’s it.”

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, crossing one set of his arms in disbelief while Vaggie pursed her lips in a disappointed manner. Charlie took a moment to find her words before she asked, “What exactly did he do to you?”

“Apparently, he could see inside my head. By looking through my memories he could see what my world looked like. I’m not sure how that’s beneficial. Maybe he just wanted to see if I was telling the truth. He didn’t say. He’s… weird.”

“That’s an understatement,” Vaggie murmured, earning a chuckle from the cat-demon behind the bar.

“Was that all?” Charlie inquired curiously.

“Yeah, toots. Was that all?” Angel teased, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Ugh, he was going to be the death of you.

“He tried to make a deal with me,” you finally divulged.

“Hijo de puta,” Vaggie seethed, baring her teeth in anger.

Swallowing thickly, Charlie asked, “What kind of deal?”

Shrugging your shoulders awkwardly, you replied, “If he succeeded in somehow returning me to my world, he wanted me to take him with me. I guess he thinks my world would be entertaining for him.”

You glanced at Angel, knowing that he was well aware of the other services that Alastor allegedly offered you. Pleading with your eyes, you hoped that he would take pity on you and keep his mouth shut just this once.

A smirk graced his lips as he considered your silent request. Much to your relief, he kept quiet. You’d probably pay for that later, but it was worth it to avoid more horrified expressions from the others.

Charlie wrung her hands together nervously while Vaggie approached you, worrying her lip. “Please tell me that you didn’t make a deal with him.”

“No!” you confirmed, shaking your head. “Of course not. I barely know him.”

“You gonna give her a history lesson? Looks like I’m not the only one around here who isn’t familiar with the Strawberry Pimp,” Angel drawled, now apparently bored of the topic.

Rolling her eyes, Vaggie sighed with exasperation. “Alright, look. No one knows how he’s accomplished so much since arriving in Hell. Overlords that have ruled Hell for centuries were no match against him. To prove his dominance and establish a reputation, Alastor pretty much massacred anyone who posed as a threat to his power. He broadcasted his carnage all throughout Hell, the mere savagery of his slaughters attesting to his abilities. That’s how he got his name, “The Radio Demon”. How original, right?” she jeered.

Furrowing your brows, you continued to listen intently. “It’s still unclear as to how he attained the power to overthrow our world’s most ancient and devastating evils, but it’s evident that he's a nefarious demon and dangerously unpredictable--capable of unimaginable destruction.”

Holy fuck. You knew he was dangerous, but you had no idea what he was actually capable of. And you had the audacity to berate him.

Struggling to keep from trembling, you asked, “So… if he’s so dangerous, why are you partnering with him?”

Charlie smiled timidly, trying to maintain her optimistic demeanor. “He offered his expertise because he supports what we’re trying to do here!”

“You cannot possibly believe that,” you countered skeptically.

“I don’t,” Vaggie barked back, scowling. “I want nothing to do with him.”

“Vaggie, come on,” Charlie implored. “We’ve been over this. We’ve got to at least give him a chance. Everyone is capable of redemption. He hasn’t done anything to hurt us or the hotel. He could be the best thing to happen to this place. Other than you,” she finished with a smile, earning a flirtatious eye roll from her girlfriend.

“You could always try commanding him to leave,” Angel taunted. “I’d like to see how Hell’s princess pairs up against Hell’s most powerful demon.”

It was then you remembered hearing her mention that she was a princess the day before when she had saved you from the mob. In all of the calamity, it had completely slipped your mind. “Wait, so you’re actually a princess?” you asked. “How does that work?”

“Jesus, you really are from another world, aren’t you?” Angel interjected, reaching for a drink at the bar. “Ever hear of Lucifer? The Big Bad of Hell?”

Nodding your head, Angel then pointed to Charlie. “That’s his kid.”

Your eyes were probably the size of baseballs as you stared at Charlie, completely at a loss for words. “It’s really not a big deal,” she assured you, her face flushed with embarrassment, which only added to her already rosy cheeks.

“Wait, you’ve been here for less than a day. How do you even know about Lucifer?” Vaggie questioned.

“I mean… I don’t know about your Lucifer,” you clarified, trying to find the right way to explain yourself. “In my world, Lucifer isn’t an actual person. He’s more of a myth, or a religious figure, depending on who you ask. There’s stories about him and no one knows if he actually existed. He’s always been portrayed as evil incarnate. He brought sin to the world and God cast him down into Hell. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Interesting,” Vaggie commented, pressing a finger to her lips inquisitively. “Your world’s version of him isn’t too far off. Rest assured, he’s real. And he’s not really a fan of our business.”

“Yet,” Charlie corrected her.

“Yet,” Vaggie agreed, grinning slightly.

“Wow,” you huffed, trying to comprehend everything.

“I know that this is probably a lot for you to take in,” Charlie sympathized, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but we’re going to help you. All of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” the cat-demon commented before taking a swig of his booze.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce you! This is Husk. He’s a friend of Alastor’s--”

“I ain’t his friend!” he barked back, seething. “That stupid son of a bitch dragged me in here outta nowhere! I’m just biding my time until the booze runs out.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, thoroughly enjoying his callousness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I can’t say the same,” he grumbled, reaching for a new bottle of alcohol after pitching the old, empty bottle behind him.

Clapping her hands together, Charlie quickly changed the subject. “Right! Let’s get started! What can you tell us about how you got here?”

It was mostly a blur, but you tried your best to concentrate and remember exactly what had happened. “I was out with my friends and we had passed by this old thrift shop,” you began, trying to recall the details. “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I was looking around and saw an old television set on display. It looked like it was at least fifty years old, still in prime condition. I love that kind of retro stuff. I remember grabbing the remote for the t.v. to see if it still worked. I pressed the power button, and bam!” You threw your hands up dramatically for affect. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

Charlie hummed in thought, looking to Vaggie for her input. “I’ve never heard of anything like that,” the moth-demon thought aloud. “Could it have been cursed?”

“That kind of stuff doesn’t exist in my world,” you countered. “Magic and curses and stuff… none of that is real. It’s all mythical.”

“If none a that stuff is real, how do you explain this place, sugartits?” Angel chimed in, cackling.

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t sure how to explain your situation. “I… I don’t know,” you stammered. “Maybe magic is real. Or maybe it’s something other than magic. Of course, there’s always the very real possibility that I’m just insane and all of this is in my head.”

“Oh, no, my dear,” an eerily familiar voice resounded ominously throughout the room. “I’ve been in your head, and I can assure you… you’re as sane as I am.”

Everyone was looking around frantically, wondering where Alastor was hiding. Moments later, a shadow appeared on the floor close to your feet, causing you to jump back and yelp as it grew rapidly until the Radio Demon himself materialized next to you, grinning widely. You briefly caught the glares and nervous expressions from the others out of the corner of your eye as he loomed over you. Wincing at his misguided assurance, you replied, “Great. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Ha! I do so enjoy your brazen disposition,” he jeered boisterously.

Your automatic response was to bite back with an aggressive jab, but after hearing what he was capable of, you instead avoided his gaze as you fought back the urge to antagonize him.

Immediately picking up on your hesitance, he carefully gauged your reaction as he stepped closer to you. “Now, now, darling. No need to muzzle yourself.” He then reached forward to place one of his slender fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. It took everything you had to remain still and maintain eye contact rather than smack his hand away.

Baring his teeth in a leering smile, his eyes morphed into intimidating red slits as he purred softly. “We are going to have so much fun.” Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #radio demon #charlie magne #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angel dust #alastorxreader #alastorxyou #self insert #afab

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 43 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hola muffins! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Adore threw a tantrum, but it may have been justified.

This Chapter: Bianca has some ‘splainin to do, Courtney plays pretend, Violet gets some exciting news, and Fame has a workplace scare.

***

The first thing Bianca did when she got home on Friday was kick off her stilettos, giving her poor feet a break after the long week. The second thing she did was feed the dogs, her beloved chihuahuas jumping around like crazy while she filled their bowls and freshened up their water dishes. And the third thing? She emptied almost a full bottle of Cabernet into a wine glass, carrying it upstairs to her room.

She opened the door, flipped on the lights, and that’s when she nearly had a heart attack.

Adore, who was on the sofa in her bedroom sitting area, had apparently been waiting for her in the dark.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Bianca said, clutching her chest, a wine stain already spreading on her area rug where she’d spilled in fear.

“Hello Bianca.”

“What the fuck are you doing sitting here in the dark, you psychopath?” Bianca crouched down, examining the stain. “Fuck.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Normal people use a phone!” Bianca sighed, standing back up. “This rug is destroyed, by the way.”

Bianca pointed, doing her best not to spill again, the thought of having to make arrangements with a decorator already putting her on edge, but she guessed she’d just have Joslyn take care of it.

“Thank you for that.” Bianca shook her head, sitting down in the armchair across from Adore. “So, what’s going on?”

“I thought,” said Adore, “that you didn’t have any secrets from me.”

She looked wounded, like a child, and Bianca groaned internally. This had to be about Pearl.

“I don’t, pussycat.” Bianca set her wine down and leaned forward. “I’m an open book for you.”

It was true. There were things Adore knew that Bianca would never tell another soul--and vice versa. Bianca would never, for the life of her, lie to Adore. On the other hand, there were things that she just didn’t feel right bringing up.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you tell me about Fame and Pearl? Huh?” Adore accused.

There it was.

“That wasn’t my secret to tell,” Bianca offered, hoping that Adore would believe her. She wouldn’t have lied, not if she was asked a direct question, but why open up a can or worms if she didn’t have to? Why risk hurting Adore, why betray Fame’s trust, all for this ill-fated, hopefully short-lived relationship with Pearl fucking Liaison?

“Bullshit!”

“Adore…”

“No, I don’t understand. Because you say you love me, you want to protect me, but you lied to me, you lied, for months, and-”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you-”

“I’m gonna strangle you right now, bitch,” Adore said, seething with anger. “You fucking lied!”

The semantics argument would never work--Bianca could see that. So instead, she sighed, rubbing her temples, and changed tactics entirely. “Would it have made a difference?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“If I had told you everything. Broken Fame’s trust, told you all about everything I knew. Would it have changed the way you felt about Pearl? Would it have stopped you from liking her?”

Bianca knew her sister, knew that Adore would most likely have dug in her heels and wanted Pearl even more if a pseudo-parent figure had sat her down and tried to explain all the reasons why she was a terrible choice. If it was guaranteed to stop Adore from getting hurt, Bianca would probably have told her and risked Fame’s wrath.

“Well…” Adore paused, considering the question. “Probably not, but-”

“Well, there you go.” Bianca picked up her glass again and took a large sip. In all honesty, she felt a lot better that it had come out, especially without her having to be the one to tell. Maybe now, Adore would start to see Pearl for who she truly was.

“B…”

“Yes?”

Adore’s lip quivered, eyes shining with tears, and Bianca knew that she’d cave. She always did.

She moved to the sofa, wrapping Adore into her arms, her younger sister curling into her lap the way she used to, even if it was a bit ridiculous now, considering that Adore was so much taller than her.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” she murmured into Adore’s hair as she rocked her.

“I need to trust you, B,” Adore cried, clinging to her. “I thought you were the one person who would always be honest with me.”

Bianca brushed her tears away, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Adore sniffled, nodding.

“What can I do to make it up to you? Hmm?”

“Can Pearl come to Thanksgiving?” Adore asked, perking up a little. The little rat seemed to have that answer ready awfully quickly.

“Ughh, Adore, you’re still with her?”

“Yes! She’s not the one who lied to me. She assumed I knew all along,” Adore said. “And besides, some of us are mature enough to handle real relationships.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. But…” Adore shrugged, “When’s the last time you dated someone longer than a month?”

“Fine. Pearl can come to Thanksgiving,” Bianca said. Anything to avoid the dreaded ‘why don’t you ever commit?’ conversation.

Adore’s face broke into a happy grin, throwing her arms back around Bianca’s neck.

“Thank you, B! I always knew you were my favorite sister.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

***

Pearl was humming along to the music in her headphones as she made her way towards the laundry room, basket under her arms. Normally, Katya was the one who washed everyone's clothes, even taking Pearl’s too, but this weekend, Trixie had taken her to Coney Island, and Pearl was nothing if not a good roomie.

At least when it suited her.

Pearl pushed the door open, fully expecting the basement to be devoid of anyone she knew, but instead of bumping into some random neighbor, she saw Violet bent over and pulling her clothes out of the washer.

Pearl smirked, leaning against the doorframe for a minute to watch Violet stretch, her ass absolutely delicious in the tight yoga pants she was wearing. Violet stood back up, still not noticing Pearl, and while Pearl didn’t mind peeking, she didn’t want to upset the truce between her and Violet, so she coughed, causing Violet to turn around.

“Oh.” Violet looked genuinely surprised, her hands filled with workout clothes. “Hi Pearl, I didn’t-” Violet paused, looking at the basket under Pearl’s arm.. “... Are you washing clothes?”

“Yes?” Pearl smirked, “Did you think I didn’t?”

“Honestly? I did… Think you didn’t?” Violet bit her lip, tilting her head. “I’ve never imagined you doing chores, ever.”

“Good to hear that you’re thinking about me, Chachki.” Pearl grinned, satisfaction curling up her spine.

“Sure.” Violet snorted, moving aside so there was room for Pearl to walk into the small room.

“A girl can dream.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” Violet smiled, pouring her own clothes into the dryer. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I think you think it suits me fine.” Pearl wiggled her brows. She knew that she probably shouldn’t be flirting with Violet, but it was impossible not to, least of all when it was so fun.

“Whatever.” Violet rolled her eyes, but she still looked amused. She started the dryer, but didn’t make a move to leave, Pearl noticing that she had a thermos and a stack of magazines, Violet grabbing one of them.

“My my Vivi,” Pearl closed the lid on the washer. “Planning to sit on the dryer?”

“What? No, ew, Pearl!” Violet slapped her on the shoulder with the magazine. “Shut up!”

“You can’t make me.” Pearl grinned, getting up and leaning against the small table Violet had put her setup out on. “So what are we reading?”

***

“Tati!” Courtney called out, waving to get her friend’s attention in the crowded Port Authority bus terminal. They’d both realized how much they missed each other at the Halloween party, with Courtney working crazy hours and living all the way up in the Bronx, and Tatianna staying with her cousins in New Jersey.

The truth was that Courtney had felt a bit disconnected from all of her friends recently. She still managed to at least text with Adore every day, but it was hard to keep up with everyone else--something she was determined to fix.

The girls hugged fiercely, then headed out, towards the cute brunch spot that Ivy had recommended. Courtney noticed right away that Tatianna seemed a bit reserved, not all all like her usual bubbly self.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, squeezing her friend’s hand as they waited for the light to change.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s been alright. I’m just getting a little bit frustrated with the whole modeling thing. I still haven’t found a decent agent, and all I keep on getting are these cattle calls. I just...ugh, sometimes I wonder if it’s all just a mistake.” She heaved a sigh, shoulders slumped, face dejected.

Courtney knew exactly how she felt. She’d gone through the exact same thing when she moved to New York, trying desperately to go on as many auditions as possible. It was so disheartening to feel invisible. But she knew that Tati would make it--she was so beautiful, one of the prettiest girls Courtney had ever known, and the photos Courtney had seen were amazing.

“Don’t give up. I know it’s hard, but...I really think you’re gonna get a break soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. And actually… Well, I don’t know what their casting process is, but I’ve gotten really friendly with the head of our makeup department. Maybe I can give her your photos?”

“Are you kidding? That would be the best fucking thing ever!” Tati exclaimed, beaming at her.

Courtney smiled, hoping that she wasn’t over-promising, but thrilled that she seemed to have turned her friend’s mood around.

“That’s honestly so cool though, even if they don’t use me. You’re really making friends in high places!”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, a dry chuckle slipping from her lips. “Actually, there’s a show coming up in a few weeks too, like this private thing at the showroom for the holiday collection. I could try slipping you into the casting pile for that too. Raja is in charge of that and her assistant is super nice.”

“You’re such a fucking goddess, thank you!” Tati said.

“Anytime.”

“So then, are things going better at work? I mean, you’re liking it more?”

“Ummm…” Courtney sighed.

“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

She really tried to be positive about work. She tried to keep a good attitude, tried not to cringe in fear every time her work phone buzzed after hours. But sometimes, like on a Sunday afternoon when she just wanted to enjoy brunch with her friend but couldn’t keep the racing thoughts about everything she’d have to do in the coming week from intruding—sometimes it was hard. She hadn’t confessed this to her friends yet, for fear of it getting back to Adore. She just didn’t want to seem like she was ungrateful for the opportunity. But something told her that she could trust Tati.

“Well...it’s just...it’s really stressful. All the time, and I keep thinking that it’ll get easier, you know? But instead there’s just more and more and the hours are always long and even when I’m supposed to be sleeping, I’m always thinking about work or worried that I forgot something. Plus, I don’t think Miss Fame likes me very much and it’s just…”

“Shitty?”

“Yeah,” Courtney exhaled, surprised at how much of a relief it felt to unburden herself. “Sometimes I feel like...I’m barely holding on. It’s like I can’t...find the solid ground, you know?”

Tati nodded solemnly, stopping mid stride to turn and give Courtney a big, comforting hug. Then, she suddenly grasped her by the shoulders, a sly smile on her face as she said, “I know what you need!”

Courtney laughed, curiosity distracting her from her troubles as Tati dragged her down the block, right into a high-end boutique filled with clothes that they could never afford in a million years. In that moment, Courtney knew exactly what she was up to--a perfectly ridiculous game they started last year when the stress of school was getting overwhelming.

She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing when Tatianna found a sales clerk and “introduced” herself.

“Helloooo!” she crooned in a terrible British accent, sticking out her hand as if the woman should kiss it. “Tatianna Buckingham, Duchess of Hamptonshire, pleasure to meet you. This is my friend, Courtney Vanderbilt-Rockefeller, and we need gowns for a gala next week.”

The sales girl smiled patiently, asking them if they wanted some champagne.

“Sounds lovely, darling. Thanks ever so.”

The moment the clerk walked away, Courtney began laughing, whispering, “She totally knew you were lying.”

“So?” Tati challenged. “Maybe she likes to play, too.”

“Maybe,” Courtney giggled, pawing through a rack of floor-length beaded gowns. “Ooh, Tati dahhhling, this turquoise one would look positively diviiine on you!”

“I don’t know about that one, I was planning to wear the rubies and it might clash.”

“Then wear the diamonds, love!”

“Great idea! Alright, let’s try it on!”

The clerk returned with champagne, and Tati held out her glass for a toast, her arms already full of clothes to try on.

“To solid ground,” she said solemnly, and Courtney toasted her back enthusiastically.

“Cheers!”

They spent nearly an hour in the store, trying on gowns, resort wear and pristinely tailored ensembles, taking turns styling each other and then strutting around the dressing room as if it was a Paris runway. The whole thing was silly and fun and made Courtney feel like she used to: young and happy and free.

When they finally left the store to head to brunch, Courtney couldn’t help pull her friend in for a hug, whispering, “Thank you,” into her hair.

“Anytime, buttercup,” Tati told her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

***

“It’s here!” cried Kandy, and a murmur went through the whole design floor, everyone reaching for their respective tablets.

It had been almost an hour since the department head meeting ended, Trixie informing them all that Miss Fame’s office would be sending the team the final prêt-à-porter sketches that had gone to tailoring for production.

Of course Courtney would be slower than death, but Violet had still spent the whole 30 minutes constantly refreshing her email. She knew it was petty considering the number of people that were trying for it, but she really really wanted that jacket spot and she had a few other looks she thought were promising as well.

One, a breezy dress that could be dressed up or down depending on styling, and a top with beautiful sleeve detailing. But the jacket...if the jacket was chosen, then it boded very well for her chance of getting the opening or closing couture look, since the dress she was currently working on used some of the same techniques.

It was probably a pipe dream to even hope for a spot like that, being the newest designer, but Violet was going to give it her best shot.

Violet clicked on the attachment, lip between her teeth as she carefully looked through, doing her best not to skip anything.

The first sketch of hers that she recognized was a skirt, one of the simpler submissions that she hadn’t even felt 100% about, but it fit in with the casual separates. The dress that she liked was in there too--with a note to lengthen the hemline. She wrinkled her nose, hoping that the extra fabric wouldn’t make the skirt look dowdy.

Then, she found it on page 38 among the other outwear--her jacket.

She grinned happily to herself, beyond pleased and excited to have this major success under her belt and more determined than ever to perfect her couture submission.

***

“Courtney! I need the tailoring budgets now!”

Fame shrugged her coat off as she walked into her office, taking her coat and letting it fall, trusting her assistant to catch it before it touched the ground. Fame had just finished her weekly yoga and therapy, talking with her therapist over the phone while stretching out. She didn’t like the therapy, hated doing it actually, but she couldn’t discredit the fact that it did make her feel slightly less anxious to unload on someone once a week.

“Have you talked to Shangela yet?” Fame looked at Courtney, her assistant holding the budget out for her. “I want-” Fame paused, realizing that this was the first time in weeks that she had actually looked at Courtney, the pastel pink no longer in the blonde hair.

Or rather, in what used to be blonde.

“What’s that?” On top of Courtney’s head, was the most disgusting half inch of severely neglected roots, the hair making Courtney’s entire appearance look cheap and tawdry. “Where do you get your hair done?”

Courtney’s hand flew to her hair, covering up the roots as the color drained for her face.

“I do it myself. I’m sorry, I know I need to touch up-”

“Yourself?” Fame tried to remember if she had ever had to reprimand Violet like this, Courtney looking like an absolute disaster. “And how do you think your current hairstyle reflects on the company? And most importantly me?”

“Um...well, I-” Courtney bit her lip, and Fame sighed internally.

For the most part, Courtney had been doing alright. For one thing, she was no longer skipping around the place like a child, and seemed to be taking her job seriously, at least. But in spite of her meager progress, she still had so much to learn. Drug store dye? Did she think this was a strip club instead of a top tier fashion house?

“Remember. Only perfection is acceptable.” Fame said, her tone clipped and pointed as she strode into her office, then turned around and proclaimed, “That’s all,” finally shutting the door in Courtney’s face.

***

Sutan was sitting at his desk at work, a smile on his face as he was reading the email that had just ticked in from Violet.

Normally, it was nearly impossible to get a hold of the woman during work hours, the task even harder now that she didn’t have a work phone anymore, but judging from the excitement that radiated from her email, Violet had been unable to wait until she was off the clock to tell him that she had gotten not one, not two, but three pieces into the prêt-à-porter collection.

Sutan was just about to email her back with congratulations, his mind already racing with how they should celebrate, when he heard a tap on his door.

He was one of the only agents who had an always open door policy, his models and coworkers always welcome, Sutan more often than not getting visits from models that didn’t even belong to him when there was trouble on the horizon, girls coming by to share their frustrations or worries with someone who listened.

Today, however, it wasn’t a model who had shown up at his door.

“Oh,” Sutan smiled. “Tamisha, hello.”

Tamisha Iman was the current CEO of Elite Model with over 30 years of experience in the business. She looked gorgeous as always, her skin perfection even though she was in her mid 50s. She was wearing a red pant suit, her brown hair perfectly styled.

“What can I help you with?”

“Do you have five?”

“Of course.” Sutan raised an eyebrow as Tamisha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. It was years since Tamisha had last been upset with him, and even though she was a firm but fair boss, you never really knew. “Anything wrong?”

“Can I bum a cigarette? I just had the most terrible meeting with the L.A. office-”

“Ah.” Sutan smiled, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “And who says I smoke?”

“Oh please,” Tamisha rolled her eyes. “I know you got the goods Amrull.”

“I thought you quit last year?”

“Don’t care.”

“Ouch.” Sutan laughed, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out the packets of cigarettes he always kept there. “I only have Camels.”

“That’s fine.” Tamisha had already walked over to his window, opening it and hiking up her skirt to crawl out onto his fire escape. “Are you coming?”

“Course boss.” Sutan smiled as he grabbed his lighter, listening to one of the few people he considered a friend bitch not the worst way to spend an afternoon.

***

Pearl climbed the stairs from the subway, she and Trixie having a rare weekday dinner without Katya since she was busy with parent-teacher conferences, so they’d opted for their favorite dim sum place downtown. As they began walking up the block, Pearl stopped short, her eyes opening wide.

“Oh my god…”

“What?” Trixie asked.

The whole time Pearl was speaking to Dahlia at Adore’s last gig, she was certain that she’d seen the dark-haired beauty somewhere before. Now, looking at the giant XXX LIVE NUDE GIRLS XXX sign, she finally figured it out. She used to use the seedy strip club as a meeting place, whenever she was trying to get info from a straight guy. Granted, that didn’t happen terribly often in the fashion industry, which was probably why she hadn’t thought of it. But as soon as she saw that sign, she knew. Dahlia worked there. Pearl could picture her clear as day, in nothing but a tiny little thong, chest glistening with glitter.

“That strip club,” Pearl said. “Let’s go in!”

“What?” Trixie sputtered a laugh.

“For a drink! Real quick…”

“No way bro, not on your life.”

“Come on!” Pearl begged, reasoning, “Katya wouldn’t care, she’d probably think it was funny.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not interested,” Trixie told her firmly.

“Please, Trix? There’s a girl there that is just like...so fucking hot. I just want to see if she’s working tonight.”

“I’m not interested in helping you cheat on your girlfriend with a stripper, either.” Trixie looked absolutely disgusted with her. He was really the worst wingman in the world.

“It wouldn’t be cheating! We talked about it and agreed that we should be open.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” Pearl grinned, spreading her arms. “I’m living the dream.”

Trixie snorted and shook his head. “If you say so.”

“So will you come inside?”

“Still no.”

Pearl sighed, continued to follow him up the street to the dim sum place, all the while entertaining herself with images of what Dahlia looked like on stage… Her tall, luscious body wrapped in silky lingerie. The subtle scent of her perfume lingering even as she walked away, swaying her perfect hips.

***

The scent of spices was filling Sutan’s kitchen, music playing while he chopped up the last of the chili, humming to himself as he rocked back and forth to the music, a glass of wine getting picked up once in a while.

“What are we listening to?”

Violet was sitting at the table, filing her nails and drinking her own glass of wine as she watched Sutan, but most importantly his ass in those jeans, cooking dinner.

“What?” Sutan looked over his shoulder. “Are you seriously asking that? It’s the Temptations? They’re the only band from the 60s that matters.”

“Really?” Violet looked at Sutan, actually a little surprised at how passionate he seemed to be about music. If Violet was being totally honest, she always preferred instrumentals, vocals often only distracting.

“Yes, really?” Sutan huffed, “Youth these days.”

“I’m sorry,” Violet laughed, the man sounding genuinely offended.

“You better be.” Sutan smiled, tipping the last of the chili into the pan. “Or I might not give you your present.”

“My present?”

“Yes.” Sutan wiped his hands on the tea towel. “Watch the stove, would you?”

Violet was about to protest, but Sutan had already walked off. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to watch, the pasta dish Sutan was whipping together way above her level of cooking skills.

“Here we go.” Sutan walked back into the kitchen, holding a white box, a white ribbon wrapped around it, the word Dior printed on it in gold.

“Is-” Viole stood up, suddenly feeling boiling hot and overwhelmed. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Well,” Sutan grinned, putting the box down on the table in front of her. “Depends on what you think it is?”

“Sutan, I-” Violet didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think.

“Come on,” Sutan gave her a gentle push with his elbow.

“Are you serious?”

“Open it.”

Violet's hands were shaking as she reached for the ribbon and opened the box. Violet pulled the white paper away, her fingers making contact with the soft purple leather. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it as she looked into the box, completely overwhelmed before she snapped to Sutan, a look of surprise and confusion on her face.

“Congrats on your designs being picked, lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled. “After getting a good look at your bag at the park the other day,” He raised an eyebrow, Violet remembering that she had shown it in his arms when she had spotted the pug. “I figured you needed a new one.”

“Oh my God, oh God.” Violet could feel the tears gathering in her eyes; she didn’t want to cry, but she was simply so overwhelmed.

Sutan always paid for their meals and their dates, refusing even the sight of Violet’s credit card, but it had never been anything like this before, never a gift that so obviously said, ‘I’m your boyfriend and I care about you.’

“Don’t cry darling,” Violet felt Sutan’s arms around her, pulling her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Take a look at it.”

Violet nodded, crying as she pulled the Dior Diorissimo in the most gorgeous pale purple leather out of the box.

“A cool designer bag for my cool designer girlfriend.” Sutan grinned, pressing yet another kiss against Violet’s hair. “Hopefully, it’ll be able to withstand the abuse of all the things you insist on lugging around.”

“This is,” Violet didn’t know what to say. “I-” She turned her head, looking up at Sutan. “Thank you. This is… Thank you. I love it.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #adore x pearl #bianca del rio #adore delano #pearl liaison #violet chachki #courtney act #tatianna #miss fame #raja gemini #tamisha iman #trixie mattel #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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linlingsblog · 3 years

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minijenn · 4 years

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Home Away from Homeworld Preview 2

Ohohoh man this part was fun to write. Mostly cause its basically Ford internally panicking for the entire thing but ya know, that’s fun! Also Yellow. Anyway here ya go, enjoy!

***

By now, Yellow Diamond’s manner had turned thoughtful as she glanced away from him, opening one of her holo-screens back up to look over something. “I recently stationed one of my engineers on Earth to check on a certain… project of mine. She has been frequently sending back reports of her progress being repeatedly impeded by, in her own words, “a group of persistently aggravating clods who call themselves the ‘Crystal Gems’”.” The matriarch turned her piercing gaze back on the author. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that… would you, human?”

Of course, Ford did know about that group, and while the fact that they were still just as active as ever when it came to protecting the Earth was something of a comfort, the realization that Homeworld was aware of that fact too was anything but. “N-no, I don’t know anything,” he quickly denied as firmly as he could. “A-after all, I haven’t even been to Earth myself in 30 years, s-so even if I did know these so-called Crystal Gems--w-which I don’t--it’s not like I’ve been able to keep tabs on what they’ve been up to all that time.”

The author tried playing off his feigned innocence with a nervous chuckle, one that Yellow Diamond unfortunately didn’t seem to buy. “Why do I get the impression that you know much more than you’re letting on…?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I-I can assure you I don’t,” Ford reiterated his previous lie, desperately wishing the matriarch would just leave the matter at that. But of course, it was just his luck that she didn’t.

“Well, if you know nothing of this resurgent pack of rebel Gems, then how are you seemingly familiar with the concept of the Crystal Gems in general?” Yellow Diamond persisted, leaning forward on her throne a bit. “Furthermore, if you’re as unaware as you claim to be, then why would you come here, to Homeworld of all places? If these rebel Gems really do exist, then are you perhaps one of their expendable human spies? That is a tactic they often tried to utilize back during the war, you know. Though if you are, you should know… almost none of those spies ever made it back to them alive…”

“I’m not a spy!” Ford protested, though he knew that if Rose or any of the other Gems had ever asked him to act as such, he gladly would have done so. “I didn’t come here intentionally; I wound up here completely by random, and I-”

“Silence!” Yellow Diamond snapped with a fearsome glare. “Believe me when I say that I am far more clever than your meager human mind is. Clever enough to see through your ill-conceived ruse. Unfortunately,” She brought up another holo-screen, tapping away at it until the chamber doors behind the author slid open and the pair of Topazes that had been guarding it filed in. “I’m far too busy with much more important matters to attend to than to waste my valuable time interrogating a human that’s far too stubborn for its own good. So I’ll just leave that task to someone else instead.” The matriarch addressed the Topazes as they both got a secure grip on either side of Ford before he could even try to pull any of his weapons out again. “Get that thing out of my sight. Take it to one of the holding cells and notify one of the commanders--I don’t care which one--that it is to be questioned as soon as possible. And do not let it escape.”

The Topazes answered in a silent set of nods as they began to forcefully drag Ford away against his will. Yet even as he fought back against their unflinching hold, he glared back at the matriarch fiercely, refusing to let her win this victory over him so easily. “You better believe me when I say that I will escape,” he said bravely, rigidly. “And when and if I ever do get back to Earth, I’ll do whatever I can to help keep it safe from you.”

“Not if you manage to doom it even more than it already is first…” Yellow Diamond said coldly just before the chamber doors slammed shut between them. And yet, as soon as the author was gone, the matriarch quickly turned to her holo-screens once more as she began to open up a communication channel through it.

“M-My Diamond?” her Pearl spoke up, somewhat anxiously.

Yet her superior didn’t regard her, instead focusing on the call she was making until an all-too familiar, all-too cheery greeting rang out on the other end of the line. “Y-ello again, Yellow! What can I do you for this time?”

“Cipher,” she began, her icy expression not changing as her thoughts turned toward a newfound long-term plan. “I believe I’ve come into possession of something that may just pique your interest… for the right price of course…”

#jen writes #universe falls #uf preview #home away from homeworld #adventures in the multiverse

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ponderingsofbck · 4 years

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Pondering the Enigma that is Mental Health

The date was April 14, 2020, and the whole world, but especially the United States, was under a lockdown, due to a global pandemic called Covid-19. Nothing had become more evident at that point, about a month after everything except essential businesses had shut down, than the fact that the lockdown itself could become a risk. Therefore, I thought about how we can handle the mental health of ourselves and those around us, not only for the present, but also for the foreseeable future, as mental illness seems to be on the rise in general.

I then began the task of formulating specific questions to ask in my process of pondering this topic. I asked questions such as how bad is the mental health problem? What are the causes? What are the effects? What can be done to help those suffering with mental health problems and mental illness?

I also thought about why these questions matter to me personally. My answer to that question was that I do not think anyone should have to go through the emotional distress, that can be caused by mental illness, alone. Having struggled in my own life with depression and anxiety in my teen years, I know what it is like, and I would not want that for anyone else. I have also read into the issue a lot to try to better understand it myself. I am an empath by nature, so whenever I read or hear about someone giving up after going through something alone because they felt like they could not talk about it to anyone, I tend to wish that I could have helped in some way. It had only become more personal to me after a woman, and her neighbor in my town, were killed by her estranged husband during the Covid-19 crisis and lockdown. I did not know her or her family personally, but my heart went out to them, and I began wondering how we can all keep our mental resolve from breaking in what can essentially be complete isolation for some.

Next, I considered what I already knew about the subject through my own experience as well as reading about it over the years. I understand personally that it is a complex and sensitive issue that many people simply do not understand, or even care to address properly. At their core though, mental health issues tend to lead to feelings of isolation and the misconception that one is alone in their struggles. I also understand that there have been many so-called solutions given in the past, which we would now deem inhumane and rightly so.

Thus, I had the foundation for how I would approach my research into the topic of mental health, it was not a nebulous, general concept, but rather more of a focused specific goal. It was a concrete reality all around me given the recent events in the world, and the fact that some were starting to break under the pressure of the lockdown.

I had begun my research by thinking about the exact search terms that I would be using for the most effective search as well as which database sites I would be searching. I avoided using google, as I have not had very good luck finding anything excepts ads and products for sale on google recently. I used my school’s online database search resources and went to a few different database sites, beginning a process of elimination for which sites I would use. I had eliminated some of the database sites from my search process due to technical difficulties at the time, and others I had eliminated as it was just entirely too difficult to sift through all the information given, with the time that I had allowed myself, even after narrowing the search by year, subject etc. After searching through the different database sites for a while I decided to use the JSTOR for my sources as it had the least technical difficulties at the time, as well as being a bit easier for me to search and find relevant information.

In the search process I decided to focus more on mental health as a general and global issue, though there are plenty of experiments and studies that focus on one aspect or another of mental health and mental illness. I also had tried to look more into possible solutions, cures, and programs as well as what I could do to help to alleviate the problem. I started out just searching for the term “mental health,” but that gave me to many results with specialized studies and experiments. I then searched for solutions related to mental health and added the specific term “peer support” into my search query. Those terms helped to find more relevant results, and I further narrowed my focus to articles that were current from within the last five years.

I had three articles which I decided to use, two of which were from Scientific American Mind, and the last of which was from Foreign Affairs. All three of the articles mention different aspects of the effects of mental illness and how it is handled in society. They also mention how even in recent decades mental health and illness have been rather enigmatic and were not handled as sensitively as they should have been.

Here is what I found in the articles which I had decided to use. I will start with the one from Foreign Affairs, titled “Darkness Invisible,” directly below the title it says, “The Hidden Global Costs of Mental Illness,” it was written by Thomas R. Insel, Pamela Y. Collins, and Steven E. Hyman. In this article the authors point out that mental illness is actually a serious problem which should garner more attention than it gets, as it is so far reaching that it effects the global economy. It is also asserted by the authors that this will have no small effect on the world’s economy in future decades as the total amount that it had cost the economy at the time of the study was expected to reach $6 trillion by the year 2030. The authors would also point out in this article that people and governments misunderstand how much mental illness effects society and the economy, and that it is not only a first world problem as mental illness can be debilitating regardless of what one’s vocation may be. The article continues with the authors presenting a number of facts and statistics on mental health, and the prognosis at this point does not look very advantageous for the global economy, there is however a glimmer of hope. The authors would offer a number of possible solutions which are being researched and developed. According to the authors some of the remedies being considered and tested include the use of web-based counselling and integrated mental and general healthcare.

Next I will briefly mention my findings from the two Scientific American articles. The first one that I will mention is titled “Patients Helping Patients,” it was written by Karen Weintraub. In this article the author focuses on the struggle and experience of one Pual Bradford, who had suffered perhaps a bit of a mental breakdown in the early 2000s. The author continues recounting that Bradford’s experience with the mental healthcare at that time was actually rather traumatizing, so much so, that Bradford decided that it was his calling to be a part of the solution. The author then explains the concept of peer counselling, which seems noble, as it is former mental health patients offering help and counselling to current patients. The author then explores some of the pros and cons of this concept, one advantage would be that peer counselors would have more empathy, though one con would be that sometimes people only have peer counselling when they need regular counselling as well.

Last there is the article titled “First Aid for Mental Health,” written by Aliyah Baruchin, in which the author elucidates on many of the points made in the previous two articles which I had mentioned above. The author brings out how detrimental mental illness can be when the victims of it break, citing a number of incidents. However, the author seems to focus on something that could vastly improve the situation, even if it has reached a point of major deterioration, a tactic called “Mental Health First Aid.” According to the Author this tactic allows the responder to approach the patient in a non-threatening and objective manner which has proven successful in many cases already, with some police departments and other agencies enrolling in the certification classes for the tactic since.

In conclusion, what I had learned form my research only confirmed my prior knowledge that mental health is indeed a sensitive and complex issue, which needs to be approached with caution and care. I am more aware that there are a growing number of resources to help with averting the crisis of mental illness. The biggest thing that this has reinforced for me though, is the idea that simply talking to people and being there for them when they are going through something could prevent a catastrophe in the future. I do not think that anyone should have to go through anything mentally destressing alone, whether we truly understand it or not. I intend to sign up for the MHFA (Mental Health First Aid) certification at some point in the foreseeable future, as I can see an increasing need for that in the world around me.

Works Cited

Baruchin, Aliyah. “FIRST AID FOR MENTAL HEALTH.” Scientific American Mind, vol. 26, no. 2, 2015, pp. 68–73. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24946499. Accessed 9 May 2020.

Insel, Thomas R., et al. “Darkness Invisible: The Hidden Global Costs of Mental Illness.” Foreign Affairs, vol. 94, no. 1, 2015, pp. 127–135. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24483225. Accessed 4 May 2020.

Weintraub, Karen. “PATIENTS HELPING PATIENTS.” Scientific American Mind, vol. 26, no. 3, 2015, pp. 60–63. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24946458. Accessed 4 May 2020.

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freshlyjuicedbeetles · 5 years

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Before I Rose - A V for Vendetta fic.

V’s life before Larkhill

Warnings: Dystopia, transphobia, misogyny, heteronormality, homophobia.

The first time I realized there was something terribly wrong with this country was when they started taking away books.

I was a Creative Writing and Literature professor at the University of London. I was new, only in my fourth year of teaching. My name was William Murphy Dietrich. Everyone called me Murphy. I enjoyed my profession immensely. I enjoyed my students and essentially, being paid to read and impart my knowledge on nubile minds. My classes were the type where our craft was taken seriously as though it were a dying craft and we were the only ones to preserve it, to only speak in puns throughout an entire class period and laugh uncontrollably. That was what I wanted. I wanted my material and those of my students to be taken seriously, while still having an inviting comradery and dialogue with them. I had solid relationships, my students. I was a bit worried about that at first, I was only a few years older than my senior students and hoped it would not be an issue. I also taught the general education portion of Literature to first- and second-year students. I wanted them to leave me with a solid framework of knowledge about literature that would continue throughout life. Shakespeare, Faust, Borges, and Dumas, going into depth about the pieces that may have only been glossed over in secondary school or introducing entirely new works.

The day in question started like any other. It was a Tuesday and I had my Creative Writing classes that day. It was the day the world began to end and Norsefire began. It was just after the beginning of the fall semester. The air was cool, and the leaves were starting to turn and litter the ground. I walked from the parking lot to the building that held my classrooms and office. The tube stations had been permanently shut down for a time, necessitating my need for a car despite living in London proper. I didn’t mind the make and model as long as it served its purpose and had a decent sound system. Even then, I had a ravenous appetite for music. That day, I had my earbuds firmly planted in my ears.

Many hellos and other greetings where exchanged between myself and my other students as I made my way to the classroom. When I entered the room, my students had already assembled the room as I liked it. I would turn out the lights in my classrooms and open the blinds, allowing for natural sunlight to come in. They would move their desks in a circle. They were ready to go, with their laptops and notebooks out, chatting and laughing with their fellow classmates. I had had each student previously at least once, if not during their entire time at the university. I knew each of them well. I took an empty seat in the circle and began roll call as my own laptop started. Due to the nature of my Creative Writing class, a class that centered on peer to peer critiques, I was able to keep those classes small and intimate, ten students or less. This allowed each student to get an in-depth critique from the other students and me.

“Morning everyone!” I called, taking a large drink of coffee. “How is everyone?”

I was answered by a few affirmatives. I noticed one of my students, Micha, who taught his entire university career Senior, English Ed. Major, had his head down on his desk, lightly snoring.

“Might I remind you all of my falling asleep in class policy. You subject yourself to any kind of prank I think of to wake you up and send you to the front of the class and dance to any of the songs from the Rocky Horror Picture Show to get the blood flowing.” I stated, mischievously.

I started clapping and the rest of the class joined in, giggling and grinning. Micha soon awoke, joining in on the superfluous clapping. He yawned and looked around, noticing we were watching him. Realization dawned on him. My tactic was infamous.

“Oh, God! You jerk, Murphy!” Micha exclaimed, holding his reddened face in hands as he chuckled good-naturedly.

I smirked, pulling up music on my laptop. “Get up and show us your best Time Warp!”

The class and I laughed heartily as he danced, enjoying the spectacle he was putting on. Micha went full on with the dance, enjoying it just as much as we were, making eye contact with each of us. If he had a feather boa, he would have used it. A few other students joined him in the middle of the circle, dancing as well.

It was times like these I wondered if I would have had as much fun as I did teaching the artistic students than I would I had taught more science minded.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were a good sport. It happens, just try not to let it happen again.” I said once he finished, patting him on his back. “One day I want the band to get involved, at least the percussionists,” I said ominously.

“Anyway, on to our topic!” I said, drumming my hands on my desk. “I want you all to write a short piece of description. Description is the meat and potatoes of writing. You must walk a line between too much and too little. Too little description and your readers are lost and disinterested. Too much and they are bored down with details and your work collapses on itself. Just the right amount centers them and gives them a visual idea of the places and characters. Think of description as decoration. Would you rather spend your time in a nicely decorated room or one that is unpleasantly sparse and utilitarian, or perhaps gaudy and overdone? Pick anyone or anything in this room or something we would all know and write about it. I’ll give you,” I paused looking at my watch. “ten minutes to write and afterward, we’ll go around the room, you’ll read your piece and we’ll try to guess what your subject matter is. Aaaand go!”

The class nodded and starting scribbling and typing away. Ten minutes later, we started our critiques. “Who volunteers as tribute?” I asked, scanning the room for a volunteer.

One of my newer students, Samantha, whom I had only had once the previous year, raised her hand. I smiled, nodding for her to start.

She was nervous but excited to read her work. She smiled as her hands shook and her voice wavered and stuttered. “He stands tall and thin, short wavy black hair which he either spends hours to perfect or simply rolls out of bed. He’s partial to button up shirts, khakis, boat shoes and carries a leather satchel with earbuds almost permanently glued to his ears though it served a vital function in keeping him alive.”

“Murphy!” The class answered.

I grinned, giving a small, dramatic bow of my head.

After the class, I went to my office and checked my email. I had several students emailing about a textbook snafu at the campus bookstore, university spam about events going on around campus. I was let down and disappointed when I saw an email from an intended speaker for my Literature 2 class, London based author John Hammond had to cancel due to his daughter falling ill but would be happy to reschedule. I was eager to meet him and to hear him speak and found his works insightful and thought-provoking. After sorting through emails and contacting the bookstore, I kicked my feet up on my desk and began reading my students work for a critique.

After finishing several, there was a knock at my office door, looking up, I saw my brother, Gordon. Even though I am younger than my brother Gordon, I was his protector in school. Though tall and lanky, I was scrappy. If I saw something I didn’t like, I did what I could to fix it. Children can be little monsters, smelling fear and difference on their intended victim. I threw more than few punches for my brother until he became known as the class clown, winning people over with his wit and humor. I didn’t like my brother being harassed for things as inane as his weight. He had better things to be harassed about and only I could do so.

Our parents had also been professors at the university. They retired before I graduated. Our mother was a professor of botany and our father taught piano as well as several other music classes such as ‘The History of Rock and Roll’ and ‘Jazz Studies.’ Dad continued to teach piano on his own time and Mum began work on her doctorate. Both Mum and Dad taught us their trades.

“Look who the cat drug in. The same man who won’t return my calls or texts has granted me the honor of his presence.” I teased.

“Do you have a moment? Or 60?” He asked, nervousness lacing his voice.

I dropped my feet from my desk, sensing the significance of the upcoming situation. “Yes, of course,” I answered, gesturing to the seat in front of my desk. He closed the office door and sat down.

“I’m gay, brother.” He said unceremoniously.

“Yes, I know. We all know.” I nodded casually, intending for him to go on and get to the point.

“What?” He had an expression of relief and confusion.

“We’ve all had the inkling for some time now. No one cares.” I replied.

“How do you know all of this?” Gordon asked.

“That you’re gay or their feelings?

“Both.”

“We talk about you when you’re not around,” I said nonchalantly, shrugging. “It seems with Mum that what made her think was your lack of female company.”

“What? You don’t have a girl either!” Gordon blustered.

“I am but a humble university professor, married to his craft,” I said dramatically. “It’s a horrible stereotype, but if the shoe fits. I prefer my solitude… Also, Mum found your secret stash of Japanese yaoi tentacle and tamakeri porn back in college, that may have told her something was up.”

“If the shoe fits?” Gordon sputtered, “You don’t even wear socks half the time!”

“That’s what you take offense to?” I laughed, “I hate constricting clothing. I’m claustrophobic.”

Gordon huffed a sigh of relief, rubbing his face and eyes with his hands. “Well, this went better than I expected.” He sat back in the seat and thought for a moment.

“Really? No one cares?”

I shook my head, “Not a soul.”

“I had a speech and everything!” Gordon complained. “Can I still do my speech?” He looked at me hopefully.

“No.”

“Fine. Anyway, I wanted to run this idea by you for a sketch. Sutler…in drag.”

I winced. “Oh, that is a truly unpleasant sight. However, allow me to critique...” I paused, forming my thoughts. “You’re new. This is only your fourth season. Are you sure you can get away with that? Or that anyone could, for that matter? Sutler has an awfully thin skin.”

Sutler rose to power in the parliament amid multiple unsavory allegations; sexual assault, rape, racism, etc. etc. He ran on the ultra-conservative ticket, promising to bring back morals and strong values, despite the vocal objections. He even had his own party; Norsefire which many believed to be a Nordic supremacy hate group. Somehow, he won his seat. In my opinion, his mouth was bigger than his mind.

“Yeah, he’s the kind of guy who forces his prudeness on others, isn’t he? He doesn’t want to drink, so you shouldn’t either type of bloke. Still, he’s an easy target,” Gordon shrugged, grinning.

“Just be careful. I don’t want to have to pay for postage to whatever gulag he throws you in,” I teased.

Gordon stood, “No worries, brother. It probably won’t even air until next year. Who knows what could change between then and now?”

Time passed. The news became more vitriolic, hijacked by Sutler and his party. One-sided news pieces and corrupted studies on how this race is less than. Pollution was skyrocketing, Ebola was creeping out of Africa like a monster in your closet.

“Avoid contact with black people,” The news warned.

Thousands died in a protest against ableism in Leeds when it went awry. The news admonished the protestors for being spoiled kids.

Around the same time, the entire royal family had died in a mysterious accident while returning from the former United States. We all knew it was coming; the ravens had left.

Sutler called for the end of the monarchy, urging that it was time to move on from such antiquated ideals. After no other rites to the thrown came forward, the regime of Norsefire began, led by Sutler himself as Chancellor. Somehow, the people found him to secure and believed he could lead the country to peace and prosperity.

Things escalated quickly from there. It started with dogs. Breeds were being regulated to ‘no fearsome sorts’. What kind of guideline was that? My grandmother had a poodle named Terrance that Gordon and I were terrified of as boys while our cousin Charlie had a Boxer that was as sweet as could be. It seemed as though Norsefire was slowly trying to remove any sort of protection we had as citizens. Of course, they took away any weapons just short of letter openers and cap guns around the same time. It didn’t really stop the mass shooter problem either.

I sat back and watched, stunned. I couldn’t help but remember all those times I was too lazy, too inconvenienced or refused to vote for a subpar, a lesser evil candidate. Should I have voted all those times? Did my vote, my single tick on a touchscreen, matter that much? Would the lesser evil candidate that I was just as unsure about have been a better choice than the one who won? Would my vote even count? Voter suppression was rampant. If it wasn’t that, votes had somehow ‘gotten lost’ or ‘corrupted’.

The snow crunched under my feet as I walked to my office. I had been annoyed that day due to having to use margarine instead of butter in my eggy in the basket at breakfast. It threw off my entire morning. Mum used to make it for Gordon and me. In my inbox, an email from the university’s president caught my eye. An important and mandatory meeting was scheduled for the end of the week.

Still, my classes continued on as normal, our own self contained and insulated bubble of freedom. We were the true kings and queens. We said what we wanted and thought as we wanted. I did not censor my students. However, I did start to lose some students who were Pro – Norsefire. Shame and fear drove the people out. It upset me. As much as I wanted to, I never tried to dissuade someone from their beliefs.

I barely thought of the meeting during the week, my mind was bogged down with more important things such as midterm grades and the latest horror show on the news. I tried to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible when out in public. The Fingermen, Norsefire’s pseudo, Gestapo-esque police force was itching for a fight and was above the law. Anyone who dared challenge Norsefire was met with a black bag around your head, sent to a reeducation camp. You never came back no matter what Norsefire promised.

Before the meeting, I grabbed a coffee and a granola bar. The meeting was likely a boring housekeeping one about the upcoming instructor evaluations. I considered listening to an audiobook instead but decided to be a good employee and listen, even if it rarely deviated from the last three years’ worth of meetings.

I took a seat in the back. The moment the President stood, the air thickened, it was something about his stance. He looked rigid and concerned. This wasn’t a regular meeting.

“Good morning, colleagues. I am here to announce a few changes coming to the University starting immediately.”

As I sat in the meeting, it grew worse and worse. Norsefire was going to heavily censor many of our courses, especially the gen eds. In the science department, evolution and any sexual education were being heavily censored. Our Women and Gender Studies, Religious Studies and any other classes or major pertaining to another culture, living or otherwise, was being eliminated. Basic safety in the orientation seminar was introducing abstinence-only, shame and biases which would likely decrease and reports of sexual misconduct on campus. These changes would come into effect at midnight the following day. This left upwards of a thousand students without majors and/or classes, many already in progress or nearly complete, not only disrupting their education but their living arrangements and financial aid as they were no longer enrolled.

After the meeting, the staff and I all filed into a single line and was given a packet depending on our department of material we were no longer allowed to teach. I went back to my office and closed the door. For several moments, I sat at my desk and stared at the ugly yellow packet in front of me. Finally, I opened it. Inside, there was a list of books, poems and short stories I was not allowed to teach. Failure to comply would result in revocation of my credentials and degrees, expulsion from the university, a hefty fine and a sentence to a reeducation camp.

“So, this is how education dies…”

To Kill a Mockingbird: Maybe not all people of color are criminals.

The Outsiders: Don’t let the nasty world beat the good out of you.

The Scarlet Letter: Hester Prynne was without womanly shame.

The Life of Pi: Not Christian enough.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower: Weirdness is not bad and does not villainize a gay character.

The Hunger Games: That’s obvious. A young woman who overthrows a dystopian government? It was one of the first to go.

I am Malala, Harry Potter, Fahrenheit 451, Ellen Hopkins, Kurt Vonnegut, Darwin, Huxley, Angelou. The cultural mind was closing. Anybody who wasn’t white and Christian was a bad person.

The day the changes went into effect was a sorrowful but angered one. In my classes, the mood was akin to death in the family. Instead of starting our lesson on Hemmingway and the Iceberg Theory, the changes were of discussion, even before I came into the room, my students were already in a heated debate about it. I just watched out the window at the campus below, my back to my class, as they ranted.

“How can they do this? We have rights!” Josie exclaimed, her fist pounding her desk.

“Not anymore.” Zach scoffed.

“I can’t wrap my mind around this. Haven’t these people picked up a history book before? This shit has happened before, and it did not turn out well!”

“Villains believe they are the heroes of their stories.” Kenny mused.

“They’re humans like us and everyone else. They’re stupid like all other humans. We always think that we can do it better than the generations before us.”

I had a few students who were utterly silent. I could tell they were wondering what was next.

“This is fucking ridiculous!” Colton exclaimed, knocking over his desk.

It was time to intervene. I turned to my class and was quite stunned to see that barely any of my classes had deserters, as Piper called them. Out of the five classes I taught, I had only lost five students. I would like to think that I had loyal students who were freethinkers and trusted me that caused this, while other arts classes suffered.

“I think it’s best that we all take time to process this.” The first syllable out of my mouth calmed the ruckus.

“Continue reading Hemmingway and working on your final. Remember, you have a choice to write a five-hundred-word essay analyzing Hemmingway’s techniques in his published works or a ten-page short story emulating his techniques in an original work. I still need the decisions from a few of you. Please have them to me by Thursday so you have ample time to work. You are all dismissed.”

Music, movies and television shows did not fare any better. Anything more than mindless dribble and noise was either heavily censored or blacklisted. Celebrities were just as fair game when it came to the black bags as any other average bloke. Tabloids and gossipmongers didn’t seem affected though. I guess it pays to know which debutante had gone rogue.

Words like collateral and rendition became curses, no longer appropriate for polite conversation. Rendition, another word for interpretation. In Norsefire’s world, nothing is left to interpretation and Norsefire tells you the ‘right’ interpretation and anyone who believes otherwise is a traitor. Collateral another word of security. Norsefire does not want you to feel safe and secure. If you do, why would you need such extremes that Norsefire uses?

I should have known what would happen next.

“Where’s Daniella?” I asked my Creative Writing 2 class. I hadn’t seen her in days and it was unlike her to miss a class, “Has anyone seen her?”

The class looked back and forth at each other like they were in on a secret I wasn’t. “She was black bagged last week,” Skylar said quietly, her words heavy.

Of course. She was black and a transwoman; a complete undesirable in Norsefire’s eyes.

“Oh.” Was all I could say. Part of me was planning a daring adventure to break her out. The other was already beaten into submission.

“Holy shit…” Preston said, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he slowly stood up looking out the window.

We all clambered to the window overlooking the university center. The group Young Norsefire had signs and tables sat up. On the tables were books and Norsefire regalia and lighters. A distance away, several male students were starting a bonfire.

It was a book burning.

‘Something is terribly wrong with this country,’ I thought, my face inches from the glass.

My class and I stared in stunned silence. I had never seen a book burning before. It felt so primitive, so subhuman. Once the fire caught on, books were thrown with glee.

“I think Wyatt Sanders just threw a copy of the Koran.”

“Yeah, his buddy Josh just threw in The Great Gatsby.”

“There goes John Steinbeck.”

“And Stephen King.”

I began to close the blinds and turned on the classroom lights.

“Forget what’s happening out there. We still have class.” I said as I sat down in the circle. I continued class as the cheers of the Norsefire indoctrinated and smell of burnt paper permeated the room.

The latest social media trend became one of proudly burning books, submerging and otherwise defiling e-readers and wiping audio and e-books from their device’s memories. ALS Bucket Challenge – eat your heart out. Almost every video ended with the person or people yelling “England Prevails!” like a war cry. I had already seen too much of this for one lifetime.

The news of the changes hit my department hard, but not as much as I expected. Still, enrollment in arts courses was dropping and we had lost several faculty members. It wasn’t just so that they were to pursue other career opportunities or earn a more ‘practical’ degree, Norsefire was truly frightening them. Anything that made them truly think was wrong and hurtful. Books and words carried ideas that Norsefire perverted into something scary.

As though it couldn’t get any worse, during Christmas Mass with Sutler in attendance, a bomb was denotated. He was the lone survivor of just short of five hundred people, men, women, children, families. The news praised him for trying to save as many as he could and what a tragedy it was that he couldn’t save a soul. His photo, one of him in a tattered sweater, soot-covered and holding the mangled corpse of a little girl, her dress bloodied beyond recognition and his anguished face was splashed everywhere possible.

I wasn’t sure if it was staged by his people or what, but it seemed to spook him nonetheless. Curfews were being instilled and roving surveillance vans were dispatched, patrolling the country. Sutler said that if they could hear the plans as they were being made, another bombing could be stopped. Voices sprang up in objection but were silenced, chided, that the surveillance was for our, your protection.

Soon, official portraits of the Chancellor were shipped to every home in the British Isles “to be displayed prominently in your home” as a show of pride in our country and faith in our leader. I grimaced when mine arrived. I didn’t want a portrait of a creepy old man hanging above my mantle. It was soon forgotten under a pile of old coats in my closet. I half expected his eyes to be bugged with cameras.

There was one bright spot on the horizon; Gordon’s new season would soon air with the first episode being the Sutler in drag one. I usually watched Gordon’s show but never made actual commitments to, but I really wanted to see this one.

As the ten o’ clock news was ending, droning on about the war and chaos, I sat down with a late-night snack of junk that may kill me one day.

Gordon started with his opening monologue about current events, making fun of celebrity baby names and such. He continued one of his most popular skits, The Boring Dystopia. His character was Norm Hall who tries to navigate an unjust society. On this night, in particular, he was pressured into buying designer oxygen due to air pollution.

After several others and a few commercial breaks, Gordon sat at his desk and addressed his audience.

“Esteemed viewers. It’s good to be back for a new season. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my cold black heart for allowing me this honor.”

The clicking of high heels on tile was heard on the stage, but Gordon continued to speak.

“Ahem,” A masculine voice said off-screen.

Gordon feigned shock as the camera panned just to Gordon’s right.

Sutler stood there haughtily, in a black corset and panties, his hand on his hip in all his wrinkled glory. His rouge was too bright and unblended, his blue eyeshadow went past his bushy eyebrows. His fishnets hung loosely like his skin on his hairy legs as he twirled a ratty boa.

I had just taken a drink of my soda. I inhaled to laugh, sending the carbonation throughout my sinuses. I laughed heartily even though I could hear the bubbles from my soda popping. It took several moments to compose myself. Every time I thought I was okay, I looked at the screen and the fit started again. I barely grasped what was going on. Something about Sutler being upset that he wasn’t invited as a guest. I had to leave the room when Sutler propped himself on Gordon’s lap, I could barely breathe.

I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. I sent a text to Gordon giving him my approval of the skit. Then I noticed I had an email. I received an email from the president of the university saying government funding was being severely cut, my department receiving the brunt of it. I was ordered to update my yearly budget to meet the new criteria. A few minutes after the email was sent, my department chair sent an email to all teaching staff about a peaceful rally starting in front of the Language Arts building on campus and walking to the Norsefire headquarters. I immediately signed up. This was the last straw. I was done standing by and idly watching.

The email included several do’s and don’ts of rally safety. There were several things I needed for the rally. A comfortable pair of shoes, for one.

My phone buzzed constantly with emails going back and forth of people confirming their attendance. Then, the email was sent to students who rapidly confirmed that they would attend as well.

I started to feel giddy like I was planning a surprise. Sleep would not be happening any time soon, so I got dressed and hit the shops for rally necessities.

I grabbed one of each charger cords available just in case one of my students or colleagues needed them. I bought a new power bank just to be safe. I couldn’t deny the practicality of a first aid kit or small clear bags in the accessory’s aisle. Columbine may have been years ago and in another country, but no one could argue the importance of a clear bag. I thought of even buying a special outfit and mask for the occasion but reeled myself in.

I’m sure I looked quite odd to the lady at the till with my basket full of cords, clear backpacks, a first aid kit and a new pair of shoes.

On the day of the rally, at 3:15 on the dot, everyone participating would abruptly stop what they were doing, especially if in the middle of a class and leave. We would all meet at the university center and walk the short distance to Norsefire headquarters.

3:15 fell during my Creative Writing 2 class. Several students had signs with them. “A couple of things before we leave. Your finals are due this time next week at 5PM. Please make sure you have them to me before then.”

I looked around the room for any questions or signs of confusion on their faces.

I nodded, “Now about the rally. Remember, it is a peaceful one. No touching, not hitting, no fighting any counter protesters we may see. That includes yelling. If you feel you may be enticed to act out, Professor Martin has earplugs to drown out their voices.

I began to pull out the clear backpacks from under my desk. “I bought these for all of you. I don’t want the police to think you’re hiding a single thing. Please, use these instead.”

Several students hurried forward and claimed a bag.

“Please be aware of your surroundings! I cannot stress the importance of the buddy system enough. You stay with your buddy, you look out for buddy. This includes the mundane things like making sure you’re both hydrated. It will keep your energy up and voices strong. Even if it’s only five degrees out, you can still pass out from dehydration. I wouldn’t put it past Norsefire to see your unconscious body as an easy target.

“Make sure your phones are all charged fully. Even better, have external batteries or power banks. I have an iPhone XR and plenty of charger cords for several other models in my bag if you need a boost.

“I hope you told someone who will not be in attendance today that you will be going to this rally, as the original email instructed. If not, please do so now.

Several heads bowed to send texts.

“There is a very real possibility some it, not all us of could be hurt and/or arrested. Tell your contact they will hear from you at a certain time after the rally and if they do not, they must call a civil rights lawyer. In a similar vein,” I said as I dug in my leather satchel for permanent markers and began tossing them throughout the class.

“Write an emergency contact number on your person in case you are arrested, and your phone is taken away.

“As we march and when we get to Norsefire’s headquarters, keep your eyes moving. Anyone who looks suspicious is suspicious. Tell someone. Also, plan you exit if things go south. As we planned, all our rides back home will be parked a few blocks away and out of sight. It’ll be our home base of sort. Professors Tobias and Moore will be there with drinks and snacks if anyone needs them.

“Water makes pepper spray worse. I see some of you already have masks. If you do not, Colton Pruitt as plenty extra, please wear a mask. If you are sprayed, milk will neutralize it.

“If you plan to stream, go live or film during the rally, please be careful not to show any other protester’s face. Someone may get doxed. However, you see any of Norsefire or the police doing anything wrong, film it.

“Lastly, if you do get arrested, remain calm and do not fight or argue. It’ll only make the situation worse. The best way you can fight back is in court. Do not run your mouth at the police or while you’re in jail. It can be used against you. Ask for a lawyer and sit tight. After you get out, document as much evidence as you can – any injuries you may have sustained when you were being detained and held, names, badge numbers and so on and forth. Any questions?”

None. I was met with resolute faces.

“Then let’s go.”

My students and I filed out the classroom as several others did as well. We all formed a large mass as others joined from the rest of the university.

In a sense, we were anonymous. No one outside of campus knew who we were. To Norsefire we were simply an idea personified. We were unfiltered and uncensored education.

There was chanting, “EDUCATION is a RIGHT! That is why we HAVE TO FIGHT!” I stayed silent. We walked the several blocks, everyone on the street making way for us and some even joining.

We grew stronger with each person. As we drew near to the headquarters, we locked arms. I was locked with Piper and Micha.

We turned the corner and the ominous black and red building came into view. Fingermen and men with guns were stationed out front.

We gathered around the front of the building, waving our pithy signs and chanting our chants. Trying to draw the Chancellor out.

“Pay cuts for teachers? We say NO! Tax the people with lots of dough!”

I noticed two Fingermen were watching me, whispering to each other, not taking their eyes off me. I swallowed hard and tried to remain calm. I really did not want to spend the night in a jail cell. One spoke into the radio on his shoulder.

My face went warm and my hearing turned to static. I disentangled myself from Micha and Piper and burrowed deeper into the crowd, not even releasing I broke a cardinal rule of rally safety: always stay with your buddy.

Someone grabbed my shoulder.

“Gordon Dietrich?”

I turned, about to correct whoever was behind me.

“That’s him,” Another voice said. “Bag him.”

“I’m not Gordon! I’m not Gordon!” I hollered.

Black linen soon covered my face.

#V for Vendetta

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