#BODE JACKET CRISIS

[1-800-kiwi]

harry on set of dwd today! // 11-4-20

BRIFBIEFIUUFI4FHO4FH BROOOOOOO HOW? AND THE BODE JACKET HELP.

via hldhq on twitter!

[makeste]

BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

um

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

[naralumi]

promises - a chilumi drabble

(fluff, childe/lumine, pre-sumeru, lumine and childe meet in northland bank between adventures.) 

part of my chilumi collection of drabbles & headcanons. 

promises 

ajax is a family person, and also a person of many contradictions. he ran away from home at a young age, yet cherishes childhood memories of ice fishing with his father and his bonds with his siblings to keep him grounded. he’s cheerful and charming and witty and compelling, but empty inside. he can’t let anyone stand in his way of completing whatever mission has been assigned to him, consequences be damned - but what about lumine? they run into each other. a lot. their paths cross, lumine is feisty, she makes him laugh, he feels challenged and inspired by her. he doesn’t go easy on anyone when he’s sparring with them, but what he respects about lumine is that she doesn’t go easy on him, either. most would in an attempt to beg for mercy. 

the only person he’d trust with his little brother is her. “are you best friends with the pretty lady with the flower in her hair?” teucer asked, before ajax bode him a final farewell, sending him back to snezhnaya, with no idea when he too would return to his family home. “i guess i am,” ajax smiled.  “i made her pinkie promise to visit us, so come home soon and bring her, okay? i want to show her all the toys you make!” 

ajax wishes he could make his own pinkie promise to lumine, but she’s already off wandering, on another adventure, another crisis calling her attention away from her own mission to reunite with her brother. 

their paths keep crossing because they’re on similar journeys, he tells himself. if he could make that promise, it would be to always look out for her, to always follow the wind in her direction. wherever she would go, he would.

“we can’t keep meeting like this, comrade,” ajax feels his heart pounding in his chest the next time he sees her. “you have business at the bank?” 

“i didn’t know you were back in liyue...,” lumine ignores her flying companion’s huff-and-puff about running into him. her eyes shine as she looks up at him, and he could even delude himself into thinking a smile was starting to form from the corners of her lips. “i wanted to hand this in, see if it could be returned to you... i’ve held onto it for far too long.” a small sack of mora. “i didn’t let teucer completely rinse his allowance that time, you know?” 

“oh, please,” ajax waves it off. “buy yourself a meal on your travels. i can’t believe you kept it aside, all this time.”

“i thought you might miss it. some of us aren’t made of mora!”

“then consider it payment for taking care of my bro. a babysitting fee.”

“i don’t need to be paid for keeping a kid away from fatui recruits and ruin guards.” lumine nudges him. “besides, it was his entertainment fund. maybe you can buy him a present from me with it, if you insist it’s just small change to you.”

“get him something yourself, when you come to snezhnaya. you promised you would.” 

lumine doesn’t know what to make of ajax’s tone. he always sounds so playful, like you can’t quite trust what he’s saying, and he has given her plenty of reasons to be suspicious of him. he notices her hesitation. “hey,” he speaks softly, it almost catches her off guard - he’s leaning in closer, she can feel his breath on her face, he places his hand on her shoulder. every inch of her skin is tingling. “thinking of seeing you, back at home, away from... all of this? it’s all that’s keeping me going. when i run into you, it’s like that piece of me that’s missing while i’m travelling - that piece that makes me more than just a pawn in someone else’s game - becomes smaller. you’re like a home comfort to me. my winter jacket, my scarf, a blanket and a hot cocoa on the coldest of snezhnayan nights, and... my lumine.” 

lumine wants to melt into him, but she can’t. for one, they are on the steps of the northland bank. two, paimon is just a few meters away, glaring at them, probably ready to hurl a ridiculous insult at him with no regard for the fact that no, they don’t hate childe, and yes, she does trust him - there’s something about him that’s genuine. she was never quite able to put her finger on it before, but that something was there, and she could see it, in that moment more than ever. it was all the proof she needed. 

“give me your hand,” she mumbles, holding out her own. “pinkie promise, i will bring hot cocoa to your house for you and all your siblings when i reach snezhnaya.” 

ajax wants to. You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.

ajax wants to, and lumine is so, so beautiful, and nothing would make him happier than to make that promise and keep it. but ajax is superstitious. and he knows, as much as his heart breaks to think about it, that though their paths cross through every corner of every nation of this world, that by the time lumine reaches his homeland, he may be out of time to return. 

he holds out his pinkie. because what’s the harm? if he’s the one breaking the promise, the bad luck would fall onto him, and what would that matter if he was already gone? 

as their fingers lock, their eyes remain fixated on each other. lumine wants to say something equally romantic and wonderful and true, but she doesn’t know how. how does she tell him that he’s her constant? how, while on this journey, trying to reunite with her only family, that that circle grew, unexpectedly, terrifyingly. that she had made friends and fallen in love and witnessed great loss, that she had questioned the meaning of good and evil, that she questioned everything ahead of her, because nothing is ever as it seems. 

“you’re my constant. don’t you dare disappear on me,” she says it anyway. simple words are often the most effective. 

“i promise. don’t worry, girlie. i’ll keep you on your toes.” he smiles. “where are you going next?” 

“we’re journeying past the chasm... something’s happening in sumeru.”

lumine was always being pushed and pulled in different directions, right where she needed to be, right where she was expected, where she was wanted. ajax felt the lump forming in his throat, because he couldn’t interfere, he couldn’t warn her - but he’d find a way to keep her safe. 

that much he could promise. 

“until we meet again.” 

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Tues 16 March ‘21

Zayn liked a post of singer Ingrid Michaelson wearing a Zayn shirt. How odd, I (and everyone else) thought, Zayn never publicly likes things what is going ON. Well SURE ENOUGH – Ingrid and Zayn collab OUT TONIGHT! WHAT! To Begin Again comes out Midnight EST tonight, omg, and not only that-- there’s a Zinterview coming out!! GQ (using a very cool aesthetic gif with the tag line Everyone is Watching) announced an interview with Zayn coming out TODAY (on newstands in Spain :| available everywhere else sometime later)- they say Zayn “discusses his latest album, his relationship with fans.” ZOMG!! We don’t have the whole thing yet, not being able to pop to a newstand in Spain personally, but there’s a cute picture of Zayn looking young and fresh in one of those gucci disney stripey shirts and his blue hair (so from last Dec-ish), and we got one teaser quote-- “I continually go against the grain when people tell me to do things a certain way, but my stubbornness and willingness to want to do things differently help me get through it.”

Niall is everywhere today in advance of his show tomorrow! He’s back on the golf (promoting) circuit, getting the word out about the Modest tournament- he says “I think some of the female golf professionals who currently play need to be celebrated more so these young girls have icons to look up to, and that was a part of the reason I was so passionate about making our event,” and that he wants to “educate these young girls and get rid of some of the pre-conceived ideas of golf being an old man’s sport.” He also mentioned the old Rio bread van story but with a twist, saying “often that was the only way of getting out of the hotel to see things or to get a bit of golf in” hmmm I feel like that was just your priority Neil but he does talk about how he used to play with Harry “out on tour for a bit of downtime” and says “Harry Styles was a pretty keen player at the time and the golf course was somewhere to chill out for us” (at least he doesn’t call him ‘grammy winner Harry Styles’ and I know it isn’t actually weird but the full name thing sounds so funny from him). There’s a sneak preview of him in the promo for Dermot O Leary’s new podcast series which looks awesome, and he congratulated Roman Kemp on his new documentary about the mental health/suicide crisis among young British men, calling it “eye opening and beautiful” and saying, “we must all look out for each other. The two ok rule, always ask twice.” And of course he’s promoting his SHOW, that’s TOMORROW-- he says he’s put together an acoustic set and makes a cute lil face and tells us “don’t you worry” about not going out this year “cause this little Irishman has got you covered”! THANKS little Irishman! But hey-- what about that Anne Marie collab from way back? Niall and Anne Marie both respond to a tweet asking just that to say… well literally nothing. They both just posted eyeball emojis. Hmph.

Grammy winner Harry Styles was spotted out to eat in Malibu in his favorite personal-time look, the bode ship jacket and floppy pants, and an official portrait with his grammy is up, very cute, an excellent Mona Lisa smirk and boa. Alicia Silverstone (Cher from Clueless herself!) took to twitter to compliment Harry on the “Clueless vibes” of his grammys look- “Cher would be so honored (and totally approve!!) of this chic look,” but backing vocalist India Shawn shows some regret after braving the world of twitter harries all week-- “some of y’all are annoying.” Very mildly put, I can only imagine, I hope Alicia doesn’t get any trouble. Oh and Brazilian artist Fiuk spilled that someone in 1D flirted with him back when they partied in 2014 and he now regrets not going for it (even though the reason he didn’t was that he’s straight). Pictures from that party of him being firmly gripped around the waist by a happy looking Harry circulated, but all five of the boys were there and drunk and of course there’s no reason to believe (knowing what we know about how they are, ie casually flirty) that whoever it was was actually prepared to follow through on any flirting, but who can’t relate to “I’m the wrong sexuality but is there really a WRONG sexuality to want to smooch a member of 1D?”

A couple of the guys from Only The Poets talk about Louis and how amazing Kill My Mind is (“that is a FUCKING CHUNE THOUGH”) and reveal that Louis agrees with me that Ceasefire is the OTP tune that matters. Twitter louies started Louniversity, an account that helps louies with school, so if you trust twitter stans to give accurate info that seems very sweet, and dusted off the Buy Defenseless push, which is always nice right, love that song- except when people are doing it to be dicks about Fine Line pushing back up in the itunes (and probably other) charts due to Harry’s grammy win, which is stupid. FFS if you’re not into someone just ignore them, not everything has to be so hostile all the time jeez.

[memories-are-mine]

We Survived the Crisis, Babe

This week on I Like Hurting My Characters: We have Chapter 3!!

Here are some handy links so y’all don’t have to go digging: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

ao3

Lemme know if you want to get on the taglist, as always! 

Chapter 3 - Ethan

Ethan tried to sit up but immediately gasped in pain and laid back down. Apparently, the Friendly Black and White monster’s powers did not extend to healing cuts, bruises and stab wounds, though he figured he shouldn’t be ungrateful. After all, he was alive. However, he was currently lying in a concerning puddle of, presumably, his own blood, which did not bode well for his future survival.

Think. He had to think. Take stock of his situation. It had never been Ethan’s strong suit, but now it was necessary. For Lex and Hannah’s sake.

He took a few deep breaths, enjoying how good it felt to be able to breathe again.

He lay on the ground, near the bench where he and Hannah had sat after he’d gotten thrown out of the Cineplex. His head still felt fuzzy but didn’t hurt quite as much as it had before, so that was good, maybe he hadn’t suffered permanent brain damage. It really hurt to move his left arm, though not his right. Okay. One out of two wasn’t bad. The gaping knife wound in his side: definitely a problem. He needed to stop the flow of blood, or he would pass out, or worse, die again. Friendly Black and White Voice had helped him once, but Ethan knew instinctively that it was up to him now. If something happened, she wouldn’t be able to bring him back a second time.

His hand brushed his flannel, still somehow wrapped around his waist. Not ideal, but it would do for a bandage until he could find something better. His fingers fumbled with the knot around his waist, and after a lot of painful fiddling, it came undone.

Now for the hard part. Ethan bit down on the sleeve of his leather jacket, hard, and slowly, excruciatingly, pushed himself up into a seated position, so that he could tie the flannel around his stomach. He peeled his t-shirt off of the wound, nauseated by how much effort it took to pull it away. He made a point not to think about the fact that the wet sticky stuff was his own blood.

Slowly, very slowly, he wrapped the flannel around the wound and pulled it tight. It killed his bad arm, but the pressure helped to ease the pain in his side slightly, and hopefully, it would stop the bleeding.

Ethan scooted so that his head rested on the bench’s armrest and sat there for a few seconds until the pain went from pure torture to, well, less torturous, then, using the bench for support, he staggered to his feet. He had to find Hannah, then Lex.

Oh, God, Lex. Toy Zone had been where this mess all started, and she was caught in the middle of it. She might not even be alive.

Ethan pushed the thought from his head. He would see Lex Foster again. She could take care of herself, and he had promised her to look after Hannah. That was a promise that he was going to keep.

“Hang in there, Banana.” He said to the empty mall. “I’m comin’ for ya.”

Ethan set off in the direction of the Marshall’s.

When he was closing in on the Playplace, he heard Hannah scream. He picked up speed, going as fast as his tired, beaten body would allow.

“Banana Split?” He called desperately as he reached the entrance. No reply. Ethan’s heart sank.  “Hannah? Are you here?”

He saw hesitant movement at the back of the McDonald’s. A small figure, with a backpack, a hat, crawled out of the kiddie tunnel and stood on the opposite side of the ball pit from him. Ethan’s heart soared. She was okay! She was here, and she was okay!

He reached out with his good hand and smiled. “What’s shakin’, Banana!”

Hannah yelped and moved back. “No! Bad!”

Ethan furrowed his brow. Hannah had never reacted to him like this before, not even the first time they’d met. Then he remembered that he probably looked like a zombie extra on The Walking Dead, which may have been a little bit scary for a small child.

“Sorry, Banana Split,” Ethan said, going to move around the ball pit to get to her. “I know I probably look kinda scary right now, but I promise that I’m gonna be okay. We gotta get going. Stick together, you know? We gotta find Lex and get the heck out of this mall.”

“No! Not Ethan! Bad Double!” Hannah screamed. “Ethan died! Webby told me Ethan died! You’re not getting Wiggly!”

Now Ethan was even more confused.

“Hannah, what do you mean ‘Bad Double?’ I know you’re scared, but it’s me, it’s Ethan. I gave you that hat this morning!” He put his hands up in a placating gesture. “I don’t want Wiggly, Hannah. I just wanna get you outta here.”

Even as he said it, the Wiggly doll that inexplicably lay on the ground was whispering in his head. Telling him that if he just took the doll from the little brat, then he could make it to California and beyond. He could go anywhere he wanted.

Focus, Ethan. Nice Black and White Voice returned. Don’t listen to the doll. Focus on Hannah.

Ethan shook his desire for Wiggly off. He didn’t understand how, exactly, but he knew that Wiggly was causing all of this. The men who had attacked him were after a Wiggly doll. Wiggly was bad, and the thing wasn’t worth seven thousand dollars. Hell, it probably wasn’t worth seven.

Ethan mentally told Wiggly to go fuck himself, and he could feel the doll’s presence begrudgingly retreat from his head. He had more important things to do than worry about a stuffed tentacle monster. Like get Hannah out of here.

“You can’t trick me again!” Hannah screamed. “You died!”

“I did.” Ethan didn’t want to scare her, but he had to tell her. “But… But something brought me back so I can save you and Lex. Hannah, I think it might have been Webby. If you don’t trust me, ask her. She’ll tell you.”

If Hannah was going to reply, she didn’t get the chance, because two other people entered the McDonald’s, crazed hunger in their eyes.

One of them was Ethan’s shop teacher - the only one he’d ever actually liked, and the only one who’d ever actually liked him: Mr. Houston. The other was a lady in nursing scrubs that Ethan didn’t know. They both had their eyes fixed on Hannah.

Oh, shit.

“Hello, little girl,” the woman said, as she and Mr. Houston began to snake their way around the edge of the ballpit opposite Ethan. “Why don’t you give us that doll.”

Hannah moved back a few steps.

“Woah, woah, where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Nursing Scrubs asked.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Mr. Houston promised, taking another step around the ball pit and toward Hannah.

Ethan felt useless. He was leaning up against the wall of the McDonald’s. He could feel that the knife wound in his side had started to bleed again. Mr. Houston was taller and stronger than even Ethan in the best of times, if he had to fight, he wasn’t sure if he could protect Hannah, he wasn’t even sure he could limp fast enough to make it to her.

“California.” Hannah’s voice pulled him out of his stupor, and if he hadn’t been so terrified, her determination would have warmed his heart. “I’m going to go to California. And you shouldn’t listen to Wiggly, he’s bad. He’ll trick you.”

“Mr. Houston, she’s right!” Ethan chimed in. “That Wiggly doll is corrupting people, you don’t actually want it.”

The two adults completely ignored him.

“Don’t worry, little girl.” Mr. Houston gave what Ethan figured was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but it just looked like a grimace. “We’re grown ups, we don’t get tricked.”

When Hannah took another step back, Mr. Houston got impatient.

“Listen, kid. I’ve been through hell today tryin’ to get one of those dolls for my son. He’s about your age.” Mr. Houston’s polite mask dropped, and he seemed to grow bigger in the darkness. A monster straight out of a children’s nightmare. “I’d do anything for him. ANY goddamn thing. Even if it means pounding the guts out of a little TWERP! NOW GIMME THAT FUCKING DOLL!”

He wheeled on Hannah, who screamed and ran deeper into the McDonald’s, disappearing into some dark corner.

“Leave her the fuck alone, you assholes,”  Ethan cried desperately. He managed to push himself off the wall and started to move toward Mr. Houston and Nursing Scrubs. “I’m the one you want!”

Again, they ignored him, now consumed in an argument with each other.

“You let her get away!” Nursing Scrubs snapped. “You really are a fucking idiot, aren’t you?”

“Well, I didn’t see you coming up with any ideas, cheer captain!” Mr. Houston shot back.

“Oh, fuck off!”

This was good. If they were consumed with their argument, then maybe Ethan could sneak Hannah out without them noticing.

“Hannah,” He whispered as loud as he dared. “Banana, we gotta go!”

He saw her peek her head out from behind a jungle gym in the back. He gave her an encouraging nod that he didn’t know if she could see, then started forward as quietly as he could, hoping to meet her halfway.

Abruptly, Hannah stopped and ducked, and Ethan turned back to Mr. Houston and Nursing Scrubs, who had finished yelling at each other, and were now scanning the Playplace.

“You see, Tom.” Nursing Scrubs said. “You don’t scream at a child, it frightens them.” She turned with a blissful, insane smile directly towards Ethan, who had to fight the urge to scream like a five-year-old and run away. She almost looked through him.

“You lure them in delicately,” she said as she fished in her pocket. Triumphantly, she pulled out a syringe filled with some kind of blue liquid. Ethan assumed it was a sedative. “And you put them to sleep.”

Oh, hell no. Ethan was the only one that would be doing drugs here. 

“Little girl?” Nursing Scrubs called out in a sickly-sweet voice. “Sweetheart? California?”

Ethan reached down to the ball pit, wincing in pain as the movement agitated the wound on his stomach, and closed his fist around one of the rubber balls. Straightening, he chucked it at the wall farthest from Hannah as hard as he could. It gave a satisfying thwack when it hit, and Mr. Houston and Nursing Scrubs twisted towards the noise and made their way towards it,

“Do you want to play with me, lovely girl?” Nursing Scrubs said in a soothing, singsong voice. It could have been mistaken for a lullaby if not for her sinister tone and the needle she so subtly hid behind her back. “Do you want some candy, my lovely girl?”

Ethan saw Hannah poke her head out, and he gestured to her to hurry up. She hesitated, obviously still wary of him because of whatever she had seen. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Somehow, Ethan heard her thoughts.

Webby? Is it Good Ethan?

Yes, Hannah, it is. The same female voice that had saved Ethan in the Black and White replied to her. Ethan had been right, it had been Webby. Apparently, since he had died, he now had some sort of connection to the Black and White.

Hannah opened her eyes and smiled at him. She didn't need words for Ethan to know that she trusted him again. They were back on track. She started to move towards him, but her hesitation had been a second too long.

“Hey, Becky,” Tom said, turning back from the wall where they had found nothing. The woman with the syringe turned to look at him. “There she is.”

“Hannah!” Ethan cried desperately. “Come on! Hurry! I gotta get you out of here!”

Hannah made up her mind and sprinted towards Ethan. As she began to run, Tom and Nursing Scrubs, who apparently was named Becky picked up speed and started to gain on her.

“Come on, Hannah!”

Hannah reached Ethan, and he moved aside to allow her to move past him on the edge of the ball pit. She scurried past the ball pit and to the entrance and turned to wait for him.

He started after her, stumbling as fast as he could. He had almost made it to the entrance when Hannah’s eyes widened.

“Ethan!” She yelped. “Run! Fast!”

He didn’t need to turn around to know that Tom and Becky were right behind him. He tried to run, though every step hurt. He wasn’t nearly quick enough. Even in the best of times, Mr. Houston was faster than he was.

Ethan cried out as Mr. Houston grabbed his bad arm, as all the pain that had been subsiding came flooding back. Mr. Houston’s other hand pinned Ethan’s arms to his sides.

“Aww,” Becky Nursing Scrubs said in that same sickly-sweet voice. “Poor boy. You’re hurt. Let me help.”

“No!” Ethan struggled, but to absolutely no avail. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hannah, once again frozen in shock. “Mr. Houston, please, let me go,” he begged. “It’s me, it’s Ethan Green. Ethan. You know me, Mr. Houston, I was in your shop class, snap out of it! Don't do this! Mr. Houston -”

“I don’t know you!” Mr. Houston snapped. “All I know. All I want is Wiggly. Now shut up.” He turned to his partner. “Becky, would you hurry up and stick him? He’s keeping me from Wiggly and it’s pissing me off!”

Ethan was absolutely helpless as Becky jammed the needle into his neck. He felt his eyes closing. The world going dark once again, and that same rush of panic that he’d had before welled up. Mr. Houston dropped him like a sack of potatoes on the mall floor.

“Run, Hannah,” He murmured. He had no idea if she could hear him. “Run.”

“No!” Hannah started running back toward them. Wrong direction, Hannah. “Not leaving again! Gotta stick together!”

Mr. Houston grabbed her just as easily as he’d grabbed Ethan, locking her in his arms so she couldn’t escape.

The last thing Ethan saw before he blacked out was Becky raising the needle over Hannah’s head, he made a noise of despair as she brought it down. Then something surprising happened. She missed Hannah completely and stabbed her own leg with the needle, immediately collapsing next to Ethan.

Huh, that was weird.

Then everything faded.

Taglist: @hurricanehellion, @asshole-gay-797, @ethngreen, @just-a-side-kick, @theirishhufflepuff, @somegeekychic, @curse-brekker, @unusual-ly, @softotacoo, @believeinasmilinggodtoday

[turnsoutnoonewasexaggerating]

Merlin (BBC) fic part 2

You were the one to teach me how to use knives

Summary:  Merlin chose to save Mordred against the dragon's advice. He should have made the same choice for Morgana. In which Merlin is more than a little fed up of old men and old dragons telling him what to do, and gives Morgana some hope. Maybe it won't change the dark path she's destined to walk down... Or perhaps in doing so, Merlin saves all of Albion from her wrath. Featuring the emotional catharsis and continuity we were denied in canon and a systematic re-writing of what could have been

Chapter summary: The Nightmare Begins (Part Two)

Morgana has dinner with Uther, Merlin comes up with a plan to start their magic training and Arthur becomes increasingly concerned about Merlin and Morgana's relationship...

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28387470/chapters/70231440

Fic under the cut

Merlin had told Morgana that he needed a while to gather the materials for her training- which translated in his head to working out how on earth he was going to fit this into his crazy schedule and help Morgana without revealing his own magic- and bade her goodnight. The smile she had given him as he left, the way her gentle accent curled around the words thank you, made him even surer that he had made the right decision. The terror that Morgana could betray him, that even though they technically could both take each other down, no-one would believe him and everyone would believe her, was an easier weight to bear than the guilt at letting his friend suffer. He thinks Arthur might break him out of the dungeons anyway. Exile him, probably, which wouldn’t bode well for their shared destiny, but at least he’d live. Merlin really needed to work on learning that teleportation spell, that could get him out of an execution if it looked like Uther was going to hack him to bits imminently.

He slept easy for the first time in a while, though that made it all the more difficult to get up in the morning. Still, he made it to Arthur’s bedchambers before the Prince had woken up, though Merlin did not think it was because he was on time. Arthur had been up late looking for the sorcerer who might have started the fire in Morgana’s rooms the night before, on his father’s orders. Which was another problem Merlin needed to resolve.

“Good morning Sire!” Merlin yells, cheerfully, throwing open the curtains. Arthur grumbles, sleepily pulling the covers over his eyes. “Breakfast is on the table!”

Unlike usual, once Arthur has resigned himself to the waking world, he gets up and dressed fast enough that Merlin doesn’t even have chance to tease him about not being able to dress himself. He wolfs down his breakfast as Merlin quietly gathers the laundry, not wanting to interrupt Arthur’s focus, especially as it looks like Arthur wouldn’t be in the mood to banter back with him.

“I need to report with my father and then rendezvous with Sir Leon. Do your usual cleaning duties in here.” Arthur says, not even sparing Merlin a look, merely a distracted wave of his hand to encompass that by ‘here’ he means his rooms. He strides out the door, and doesn’t return for a very dull hour in which Merlin, for once, actually does all of his duties and is left anxiously polishing Arthur’s sword just for something to do with his hands. What if someone suspects someone he knows of magic? Uther will not listen to anyone when it comes to magic as it is, let alone when Morgana’s life is in apparent danger. As ever, neighbourly feuds will have everyone accusing each other of witchcraft in the lower town, and Merlin can definitely imagine Uther deciding to execute anyone with even a sniff of suspicion just to be sure. He’s not worried that someone will accuse Morgana of starting the fire herself; her position in court prevents that, but Gwen is only recently starting to escape the shadow of sorcery that followed her since her father’s death, and if she comes under suspicion again he doubts even the combined efforts of Arthur and Morgana could stop Uther’s wrath.

Eventually, Arthur comes back, Leon in tow, the both of them already mid-conversation.

“Are you sure this is all of them?” Asks Arthur, unravelling a scroll.

“Names and last known dwelling places.” Confirms Leon.

“My father suspects the fire was started by sorcery.”

“Indeed, sire. I’ve included the details of everyone we suspect of consorting with sorcerers, witches or druids.”

Arthur purses his lips. “Gather the men. We’ll arrest them immediately.” Leon nods and leaves, and for the first time that day Arthur finally looks at Merlin. “I thought I told you to do that yesterday.” Arthur says, pointedly.

“I didn’t have time.” Merlin considers, for a bizarre moment, telling the truth of I was too busy having an emotional crisis of whether to acknowledge the Lady Morgana’s magic or not considering it’s possible that she will ruin our destiny but swallows it down. He searches for a chore he could have done out of Arthur’s sight. “I was cleaning the stables.”

“That’s strange, because a little bird told me you were somewhere else.” Arthur turns away from Merlin to shrug off his jacket, and Merlin makes use of his distraction to unroll the scroll with his magic to try and scan the list of names, and make sure Gwen’s wasn’t on it. Not that Merlin thinks Arthur would have given the order to arrest them if hers was on the list, but it’s possible he hadn’t had a chance to look at it properly himself yet.

“Mucking out the stables is strange and a talking bird isn’t?” Merlin quips, distractedly, trying to find the letter G upside down.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, turning back before Merlin can finish, “what have we said about you trying to be funny?”

“I shouldn’t.” Merlin says, with what he hopes is a sheepish smile, but has a feeling it’s coming across more as cheeky. Arthur raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, and turns back again to fiddle with his belt. Merlin once more attempts to read the scroll, but is distracted by Arthur’s next words.

“So, where are my flowers?”

“Your flowers?” Merlin repeats, barely registering his own words.

“I heard Morgana got some.” Arthur says, with strange emphasis on Morgana. He pulls back on his red jacket and looks expectantly at Merlin who quickly lets the scroll roll shut. “I assumed you were putting them in all the rooms.” Merlin had honestly completely forgotten about the flowers he’d taken up to her the day before, his guilt driving him to do at least a small act of kindness for his friend. He also knows that Arthur knows he was doing nothing of the kind. Gods curse it, he thought he’d gotten away with it, hiding the flowers in his waistband. Sometimes Arthur’s perceptiveness makes Merlin very, very worried for his secrets. Other times… Arthur is as dense as a brick wall. “Or is she the only one to receive a token of your affections?”

“Yes.” Merlin says decisively, and then realises what he’s just agreed to and quickly backtracks as Arthur develops a delighted grin. “Uh, no, no, no. Uh, what? It’s not a token of anything! Affection or otherwise.” It really hadn’t been. Merlin was aware of how beautiful Morgana was, he had eyes but he was no fool. He had no time for romantic thoughts of any kind, and even if he did, he’s never even consciously considered Morgana in that regard. It was so far from the realm of possibility… And when his reality included a talking dragon on a regular basis, that was a serious statement to make.

“I see.” Arthur says, his tone tinted with smugness, but Merlin was still preoccupied trying to see the list to take note of it. “So why were you trying to hide them from me yesterday?”

“I wasn’t…” Merlin says, paying to attention. “I mean, I was. I just didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.” Didn’t want to have to deal with Arthur calling him names when he had lots of errands to run.

“What’s the right impression?” Arthur says, tone a little dangerous, but Merlin doesn’t pick up on it. He’s almost made it to the bottom of the list without seeing Gwen’s name.

“That I was trying to cheer her up after the fire.”

“Pick them yourself?” Arthur inquires, spinning so fast Merlin barely has a chance to let the scroll close again. It shuts with such force that it drops to the ground, but thankfully Merlin finished reading, and Gwen definitely wasn’t on that list.

“Maybe.” Merlin beams, trying to look as innocent as possible, and far away from the scroll. His mind finally catches up with the conversation he’s been having, and he can’t help the defensiveness that seeps into his tone. “I was only trying to be nice.”

Arthur nods, but his eyes clearly say he doesn’t believe him. After a moment, though, all he says is, “Sword.” Merlin hurriedly hands it over. “That’ll be all.” Merlin nods and goes around the table to leave, mind already racing about what to do with Morgana. He’s glad to know Gwen is safe, but it still doesn’t sit right in his stomach, knowing innocent people are about to be detained for a crime that didn’t happen.

 Merlin furiously scrubs at Gaius’ leech tank, desperately trying to think of some way to talk to Morgana privately that wouldn’t be horribly inappropriate. He thinks he’s got an idea about how to circumnavigate the issue of getting to her chambers for training, but it’s risky, and he has no idea what to do about all the people being arrested. Luckily, before he has to do anything, Morgana comes to Gaius’ chambers instead. Merlin inclines his head at her, not being able to do much else when he’s up to his elbows in leech tank gunk. “My lady.” Merlin doesn’t know whether she managed to sleep last night, but she’s looking remarkably better anyway, even though her expression is worried.

“Merlin, is Gaius here?” Merlin shakes his head.

“No, one of the prisoners was badly injured when the guards arrested them so he’s tending to them in the cells.” Morgana nudges the door to behind herself, clasping her hands in front of her stomach.

“If,” she says, hesitantly, “if I was right and it was me who started the fire, then it’s my fault all these innocent people are being arrested. Uther will never let all of them go, even if they all have alibis. It would look weak.”

“I’ve been wracking my brain all day but I’m not sure there’s anything you can do, not without risking yourself. And even if you confessed, I’m sure he would think you had been enchanted.”

“Merlin, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if someone got hurt because of me- Gods, someone else has already been hurt because of me-” She cuts herself off, distraught, and Merlin aches to comfort her but there’s nothing he can do.

“Can you think of anyone Uther might be convinced? You know him better than probably anyone except Arthur.” Morgana shakes her head.

“The only way he’d change his mind is if it looked stronger for him to not do this which-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening.

“My lady? What is it?”

“What if… I have an idea.” Before Merlin can say anything, Morgana’s sweeping back out of the rooms again. “Leave it to me!” She calls, without turning around, and Merlin has no choice but to trust her.

 Morgana knows she looks stunning as she floats into the great hall on satin-clad feet. There are many ways to defend oneself, and much as she might prefer a sword, Morgana’s become an expert in using her words and looks to her advantage too. She hasn’t felt particularly beautiful lately, her exhaustion dampening her spirit as much as her physical appearance, but the hope- and fear- that Merlin has ignited in her stomach has reinvigorated her. She feels sick with terror, but with the hope has come some perspective, and there’s parts of Merlin’s speech to her last night that have given her pause. The situation she is in is precarious, but if she could have magic without having learnt it, then there must be other people like her, and they have none of the privilege she does. Of course, being trapped right under Uther’s nose is not something many have to survive, but she knows that unless Uther saw her using magic with his own eyes, there’s little chance anyone could throw an accusation at her that’d he’d believe, or even tolerate. Half the town could know she had magic and it still wouldn’t get back to Uther, not when everyone knows they’d be risking their own skin to try and get her.

Uther smiles broadly as she comes to sit at the dinner table, sweeping his arms wide. “Morgana! I didn’t know you would be joining me tonight.” She’s skipped out on many meals in the last few weeks, having no appetite. She doesn’t really have it back yet, but she has a mission here tonight that has nothing to do with food.

“It’s been too long, my Lord.” She says, smiling back. There’s been a tension between them since Gwen’s father’s death, a tension that has not dissipated despite the length of time. Morgana knows that tension will never ease. She may have found enough goodness in him, enough affection- enough weakness that dark voice in her head whispers- for him to not let Tauren and his band of sorcerers murder him outright, but she had held Gwen close as she’d cried for too many nights to ever forget. In the long hours that she lies awake, too terrified of her dreams to let herself fall asleep, Morgana tries to weigh up how much of her decision to stop Tauren was based on her affection for the man who’d taken her in and raised her since she was a little girl, and how much of it was realisation that the plan was not well thought out, was too messy. She’d been so blinded by her rage that she’d let it get the better of her considerable intellect. If she’d let them kill him, not only would she have been rewarding the man who was partially responsible for Tom’s death, she also might have led to the downfall of the whole of Camelot. Though she is a lot more disparaging of Arthur than Merlin is- and she does truly marvel at how Merlin, despite spending more time in Arthur’s company than anyone else, and spending most of that time insulting Arthur and pointing out all his flaws, believes that Arthur is going to make a great king- she still doesn’t wish him harm. She knows he is a better man than Uther, always has been.

(She’d found him, shaking, hiding in an alcove of one of the turrets, when he was fourteen. They’d been at an awkward phase in their relationship; her, haughty and more aware of the year she had on him than ever before, cross with him for the ways Uther was increasing Arthur’s combat lessons while hers languished because she couldn’t be cross with Uther, beginning to realise many members of the court expected the two of them to marry when they were both of age and hating how little control she had of her own future, him, arrogant and headstrong, tactless and defensive when she mocked his bully-like behaviour, all the while knowing most of it was bluster to hide how terrified he was of disappointing his father. There had been a lot of whispers in the last few days, odd snippets she couldn’t quite put together, conversations she knew she was being left out of. Her temper had flared, and spitefully she hadn’t wished Arthur luck, even though she knew he was beyond nervous about leading his first raid.

The raid had been back for hours though, and she’d been there on the steps to greet him in, heard the way Uther had- in an extremely rare show of fatherly affection- clapped Arthur on the shoulder and said he was proud of him. Arthur should have been ecstatic. Instead he was cowering- and Arthur never cowered- his pale face looking torn between being sick and bursting into tears. She’d grasped his hands, and it was like when they were children again and she’d helped him back to the castle when he’d fallen off his horse and broken his ankle- lied for him and said the horse had been spooked instead of Arthur still not being confident in his riding yet- and asked him what was wrong. He’d told her everything, told her that Uther had described the druid camp as if it was full of evil sorcerers dancing around cauldrons practicing dark magic under a blood moon, but when he got there and his men had attacked he’d only heard terrified screams, that of all the druids there only a few had had a chance to use their magic to defend themselves and not a single one of his men had come home with more than a sore head, that there had been women and children and though he’d tried to get his men to stop his father’s knights had shown no mercy, and that it was not a battle but a slaughter.

Morgana had cradled him to her, fury burning hotly in her chest, and despite all her attempts in the last few years to be taken seriously, suddenly aware that the both of them were still just children, and they shouldn’t have to go through this. Of course, she was still in the denial phase then, sure the blame for this slaughter should be on the men Arthur had taken with him and not the King they served. Neither Morgana nor Arthur ever spoke of that night again, but Arthur never went on another raid of the druid camps, and that spark of fury ignited in Morgana’s chest never burnt out.

“Are you recovered from your scare the other night? I assure you, we have all the possible people associated with the attempt locked up, and we will find who was responsible.”

“I am fine, thank you, my Lord, but I actually wanted to talk to you about that, if you would hear me out?” Morgana waves off the maid who comes to pour her wine, and Uther gestures for her to go ahead, relaxing back in his chair but still giving her his full attention. She hates the way a part of her still trills happily at knowing she has his attention and ear, a position many have coveted and few have earned. Though he rarely, rarely agrees with her, or takes her words on board, not like he does with Gaius’ advice or even some of Arthur’s military strategies, she can push him a lot further than anyone else before he snaps at her, hear her out on a topic he wouldn’t even let Arthur broach even if nothing comes of it. “Obviously, the most likely cause of the fire was sorcery.” His eyebrow quirks a little in surprise; she’d usually the first to suggest it wasn’t, but he nods in approval. “But there is a small chance it was the storm or the attacker started the fire naturally.” She bulls on before he can protest. “And it seems to me that a sorcerer who is proficient enough to have started the fire from inside the castle and escape before I alerted the guards, is unlikely to be found. If any of the people you’ve brought in have information, the information they have is probably already useless. If we actually want a chance at catching the sorcerer, we need to let them believe they got away with it. We now have a comprehensive list of people suspected to know something about sorcerers, why not keep tabs on them? Keep listening? We might end up reeling in far bigger fish.”

“And leave you vulnerable?”

“Am I not more vulnerable to the sorcerer if we have no way of identifying them? And besides, if it was a non-magical attack, we’ll be lulling them into a false sense of security too. And if it was an accident, there’s no harm done.”

“I can’t just let them all go, Morgana. It would look like I had given up on finding the culprit.”

“Can’t you release a statement that Arthur or the knights killed the sorcerer responsible in a scuffle? You could even say they found them based on information given by the prisoners, to stir up some mistrust between them all.”

Uther hums, hand on his chin. “It’s an interesting proposition. I will see if the guards manage to elucidate any useful information from them first, but you might be onto something in making them paranoid. They’re more likely to slip up and we may end up capturing more sorcerers. I will consider it. Now onto more pleasant manners?”

 “Gaius.” Merlin greets, not knowing on the other side of the castle Morgana is suffering through a meal with her adoptive father in order rescue lives that are only on the line because of her.

Gaius blinks suspiciously at Merlin, glancing around his workroom as he closes the door behind himself and sets his bag of herbs down on the desk. His gaze catches on the leech tank and his eyes become even more narrowed. “Merlin.” He replies. “Why is it that I’m more surprised than pleased that you appear to have done everything I asked you to?”

“Arthur’s been busy all day arresting people and didn’t set me much to do. It had to happen eventually.” Merlin smiles, attempting to patch over the awkward tension that has lingered between them for the past couple of days after Gaius forbade Merlin from talking to Morgana. “Also, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Gaius frowns, but just starts over to the cauldron to start their food. “What is it?”

“You said that it’s too dangerous to talk to Morgana-”

“Merlin-” Gaius warns, but Merlin holds his hands up.

“But your sleeping draughts clearly aren’t working for her anymore, and innocent people are being interrogated because of her. I’ve seen you making those draughts enough times, Gaius, I know you can’t risk increasing the concentration anymore without putting her into a coma.”

“I have always done my best for Morgana-”

“I looked up some alternative remedies.”

“Alternative remedies? Merlin, I assure you, if there was anything more science could do I would know about it-”

“I know.”

“Merlin you had better not be suggesting a magical remedy-”

“I’m not, for god’s sake would you just listen to me for once!” Merlin yells, and Gaius drops the ladle into the cauldron in surprise. “You’ve forbade me from talking to Morgana and it’s like you don’t care about the way it’s tearing me into pieces to watch her get more and more afraid. I know exactly what she’s feeling-”

“Yours and Morgana’s situations are very different Merlin-”

“Yes, because she has no-one and I have you!” Merlin breathes heavily, trying to soften. “Everything I know that is good and light about magic I learnt from you Gaius. I was so lonely before I came here, spent every day terrified that Cenred’s soldiers were going to knock down the door and drag me away because I hadn’t been careful enough. I’m still living in fear but at least I can talk to someone who understands it.” He huffs a humourless laugh. “Even you don’t know what it’s like to be born with magic, to have no control. It took me years before my magic stopped reacting every time I got spooked, and I still do it non-verbally half the time. Morgana’s magic is coming out because she’s scared.”

“Merlin, she is safer in ignorance-” Merlin holds up a hand.

“I disagree with you but that’s not what I’m saying. I was looking into meditation rituals.”

“Meditation rituals?” Gaius is stopped-short, not expecting this at all.

“Perhaps if she can calm her mind before she goes to sleep, her magic won’t flare up. There are chants or incense candles,” at Gaius’ arched eyebrow Merlin swiftly corrects, “though of course I won’t suggest those for a while-”

“They all sound like utter codswallop Merlin. I thought, as a physician’s apprentice, you’d know better to buy into these contrived rituals-”

“I don’t; but what if she does? Placebo effect, Gaius. We both know that what’s causing her nightmares isn’t something you can treat. It has to come from her. There’s nothing to lose; there’s no danger, and nothing else you can suggest to help her. It could be in conjecture with her potions.” Gaius still doesn’t seem confessed. “Please, Gaius. Please let me do something to help her.”

Gaius releases a gusty sigh. “I’m glad you’ve looked into something non-dangerous to help her. And… You are right that I can’t treat her with anything stronger than what I’m already giving her.” He points an imperious finger at Merlin. “But I don’t think this will work. And besides, I don’t have time to be traipsing through the castle each night to perform some elaborate ritual.”

“No, but I will already be on that side of the castle after getting Arthur ready for bed.”

“You want to do it?”

Merlin grins cheekily. “You can count as my first apprentice-physician job. You just have to get Uther to approve it.”

Gaius huffs again. “Fine.” He says shortly. “But that’s the last I want to hear of this, Merlin. If it doesn’t work, that’s it.” He warns and Merlin’s grin widens.

“Yes! Thank you, Gaius!”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He grumbles. “Uther still has to approve it.”

There are more guards than ever at the staircase up to Morgana’s rooms, but, despite the fact that Merlin isn’t even holding a potion, they accept the excuse that he’s delivering Morgana’s usual sleeping draught without question. He hurriedly knocks on the door, and Morgana answers dressed in emerald green, her eyes light with something he hasn’t seen in a long time on her face.

“Merlin.” She smiles lightly, small but there, and Merlin’s stomach clenches at the thought he’s put it there. He should have talked to her earlier. He could have spared her some sleeplessness. He can’t imagine why he would ever regret this. She opens the door wider to let him in, and he slips through the gap with a bow of his head.

“My lady.” He waits until the door closes. “I heard the prisoners were being released tomorrow. Should I assume you have something to do with it?”

Morgana’s smile widens, eyes sparking with a hint of mischief. “Yes. But…” Her face falls. “It comes at the price of increased guards. I convinced Uther that he’d gain more information from the prisoners by spying on them than interrogating them. Hopefully with enough time he’ll have to come to the conclusion that there was no sorcerer who attacked me. In the meantime, I’m being heavily watched. I’m not sure when on earth we’d get a chance to…” She flicks wary eyes at the door. “Talk.” She finishes, word inlaid with meaning.

“I might have solved that problem.” Merlin says. “Gaius is going to approach the king about a new remedy suggestion he has for you; meditation rituals. As Gaius doesn’t have time to be traipsing over here every night and I’m close by coming from Arthur’s rooms anyway…” Merlin shrugs. “So long as the meditation seems to work,” he says, with a meaningful eyebrow raise, “I’ll be permitted to help you clear your mind before bed each night, when I’m not on a mission with Arthur of course.”

Morgana’s eyes well up. “Gods, Merlin… Thank you.” She shudders through a sigh. “I… I was always taught that magic was evil. That it corrupts the soul.”

“Uther taught you that.” Merlin says, gently. “Just because he decreed it, doesn’t make it so. Magic is a tool. It has the potential for great darkness. But it also has the potential for such light.”

“You… You don’t look at me as though I am a monster.”

“My lady- I never will. As long as you can promise me you will only use your magic for good-”

“I promise, Merlin. Maybe- Maybe one day magic will be seen primarily as a force for good.” Merlin swallows, can’t meet her eyes because he wants it so badly himself. He thinks, for a split second, about telling her about his magic, wavers on the edge, but can’t quite make himself teeter over.

“It’s good to have you back.” He says, instead, voice a little hoarse. She doesn’t ask him to explain what he means when she hasn’t left the castle, because she knows he’s referring more to her joy than anything else. She reopens the door for him.

“Thank you, Merlin.” He leaves, smiling. “Sleep well.”

 Arthur had known something was up with Merlin when he’d been humming as he folded Arthur’s laundry and not saying a word of complaint. He let Merlin’s distracted and cheery behaviour go, only to follow him when he left Arthur’s chambers. When he didn’t turn down the corridor to go back to Gaius’, Arthur’s feet quickened, stealthily tracking him through the corridors. Honestly, it was a bit disconcerting how easy it was for Arthur to avoid the scrutiny of the guards; he really needed to train them to look around. Were their helmets obscuring their peripheral vision? Perhaps inside it would be better for them not to wear the full metal ones. He’s distracted enough by these thoughts that it takes him a moment to recognise the staircase Merlin’s headed up; to Morgana’s rooms.

He overhears the brief conversation with the guards and, to be fair to them, he himself would not think anything were remiss… If he didn’t know Merlin had come directly from Arthur’s chambers and hadn’t picked up any sleeping draughts on the way. He waits for a couple of minutes, but when Merlin still doesn’t come back down, he strolls out and dismisses the guards at the end of Morgana’s staircase to wait for Merlin himself.

When he had confronted Merlin about the flowers, he’d mostly been teasing him, but now his concern is genuine. He casts his mind back, trying to work out whether he had ever noticed anything between the woman he regarded as a sister and his manservant, but he realises to some chagrin that Arthur had always been preoccupied with Gwen whenever the four of them were out together, and he couldn’t recall anything of the sort. Anxiety had a strange way of stretching time, and by the time Merlin finally comes back down the staircase, dopey smile on his face, Arthur’s convinced he’s been in Morgana’s rooms- unchaperoned- for entirely too long.

“This has to stop.” Arthur says, as Merlin’s feet hit the last step, eyes flicking up at him. Merlin flinches, having clearly not seen Arthur, and Arthur doesn’t enjoy the twinge of guilt that flares at the loss of Merlin’s smile. Arthur pushes himself off the wall but uncrosses his arms, trying to be firm but not threatening. It’s not as if he doesn’t understand. But… Arthur clings to the tiny hope that one day he could court Gwen openly, marry for love, even if it isn’t likely. For Merlin and Morgana, however, there is no hope at all. Morgana will have very little choice in who she’s married to, and the choice that Uther might allow her would only ever be between different noble options. He’d never let her be with a servant. Though Arthur would never dishonour Gwen in such a way, if anyone found out about the two of them, only Gwen would be disgraced. If someone found out about Merlin and Morgana… Morgana would be disgraced and Merlin would be executed. “The king would have your head if he found out and there’s no point denying it.”

To Merlin’s credit, he does manage to look legitimately confused. Arthur stops just shy of touching him, and waits for his response. “Denying what?”

Arthur’s eyes flicker over his face, reluctantly impressed with how Merlin’s mask doesn’t even flicker. “Your affections for the lady Morgana.” Arthur states, because there’s no point beating around the bush. To his surprise, Merlin’s confusion softens into a grin and he scoffs, turning away from Arthur like he thinks it’s just a joke.

“Right.”

“Take a bit of advice from someone who knows about women-” Arthur says, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and attempting to be a little kinder. He wants Merlin to know he won’t tell his father, not when Merlin’s kept so many secrets for him, but that still doesn’t mean this can continue.

“If such a person existed, I would.” Merlin quips, and Arthur rolls his eyes, feels like shaking him. It is not an unusual feeling.

He continues as if Merlin hadn’t spoken. “Stick to girls who are more,” he casts his eyes around, “how can I put it,” he ends up catching Merlin’s eye as he finishes which makes what was supposed to be advice now seem mostly insulting, “on your level.”

Merlin looks so unimpressed that Arthur thinks he must be taking lessons from Gaius. “Thanks.” He says, not thankful in the slightest.

“She can’t be your friend,” Arthur says, and now when he looks away he’s not sure that he’s talking about Morgana anymore, “let alone anything else.”

He’s brought out of his reverie by Merlin. “Yeah. I know.” Despite that Arthur came here to caution Merlin, he’s getting the strangest feeling that Merlin is also cautioning him in return. And… And that now he’s not talking about Morgana or Gwen but… His relationship with Merlin. Arthur clicks his tongue, uncomfortable at how suddenly he’s lost the reins of this conversation, and of how aware he is of his own hand on Merlin’s shoulder that might have been there a little too long now he thinks about it.

Arthur pats Merlin’s shoulder in a friendly slap, imagining Leon in Merlin’s place, and jokes, “You can’t hide anything from me, Merlin.” He walks away to the sound of Merlin’s laughter.

Merlin watches Arthur go, wondering whether Arthur will address this whole strange conversation again when he finds out that Merlin really was just going to Morgana’s rooms to help her sleep, and his smile slowly dies as he thinks of Arthur’s parting statement. All his elation over the past day- about peeling open one of his layers to Morgana- fades as he remembers just how much he’s still lying to Arthur. The Merlin of a year ago would be incredulous in the face of the affection that warms his stomach when Arthur shows a hint of caring towards him, but, as Arthur said, there’s no point denying it now. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Merlin whispers, to Arthur’s retreating back, wishing he lived in a world where he could repay the trust Arthur gives him.

[bat-losers-inc]

Kintsugi: Chapter 1

Warnings: drug use, panic attacks

Summary: Final Crisis/Red Robin AU. Dick admits Tim to a psychiatric facility after Bruce is lost in time. Jason finds him suffering at the hands of a Scarecrow-copycat and breaks him out. While safe in Jason’s apartment, Tim still struggles with panic attacks and drug withdrawal. At a loss for what to do, Jason calls Roy Harper.

Pairings:  Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Roy Harper, Roy Harper & Jason Todd.

It had been a little more than a week since Jason had been locked out of Tim’s criminal database when he decided to stop waiting around for Tim to grant him access again. Screw being patient and playing nice. A week’s worth of increasingly less polite voicemails on Tim’s phone was evidence to how well that tactic had worked for Jason.

So, Jason decided to fall back on the more tried and true tactic of breaking and entering. If he couldn’t get Tim to return his calls, Jason would just have to corner him into a conversation. This was how Jason found himself prying open the window to Tim’s apartment in the early evening hours and slipping inside.

He straightened up as his boots made contact with the wood floor of Tim’s living room and glared around in confusion when neither fists nor any audible alarms greeted his arrival. Strange.

“Hey, Tim. You here?” But a quick check of all of the rooms in Tim’s apartment told Jason he wasn’t.

Jason contemplated leaving and searching the streets, though he hadn’t heard Red Robin over the comms for a few days. He stared longingly at Tim’s desk where his laptop rested open, the screen turned matte by a thin layer of dust. He really couldn’t afford to wait around on Tim with his street cred going down the toilet.

“Ah, screw it.” He sat in Tim’s desk chair and got to work on cracking the password. Four tries later saw Jason rummaging around in Tim’s desk drawers hoping he’d left some password clue so that Jason wouldn’t getting locked out for another incorrect attempt. It was a waste of time since Jason knew Tim was too smart to ever write down a password.

A reminder scribbled on a sticky note to do laundry before he ran out of clean underwear?

Sure.

But a password to help his dear older brother?

Of course not.

“Jeez, all of this because the kid doesn’t have a sense of humor. You set your brother up as the fall guy for one of your murders. Just once. Just as a joke! And then he kicks you out of his network and you’re left with your excel spreadsheet of crime syndicates that hasn’t been updated in months. And then you go shake some answers out of Penguin’s number two guy, only to find out that that guy got locked up by GCPD two months ago. And then you have to settle for getting answers from Penguin’s shit-for-brains cousin, Larry.” Jason slammed the final drawer closed, “Fucking Larry.”

Jason spun around in Tim’s desk chair, going over his options once again. He’d sooner break into the Batcave and risk running into Dick and Damian than subject himself to updating his own old-school records. Jason’s eyes landed on the Star Trek poster mounted on the wall across from him. He halted his spinning as realization struck him. “Oh, you beautiful, beautiful, nerd.”

He pulled the framed poster off the wall and flipped it around, searching for the clips that locked it in place. A small piece of paper the size of a business card dropped onto Jason’s boot as he freed the backing from its frame. He snatched it up and logged into Tim’s laptop.

Jason was in the process of closing out of Tim’s records, having already sent a copy to himself, when a notification in the corner caught his eye. He clicked into it and was surprised to see it was a message Tim had sent to himself. Or was it?

Jason read over the message again.

Find my iphone.

User: T.drake007@gmail.com

Pass: Batcow

He had a tracking device built into his suit if he needed someone to find his location. But if he was in his civvies…

Jason pulled his own phone free of his jacket pocket and signed into Tim’s account. As the map narrowed in on Tim’s last location, Jason was already out the window and climbing up the fire escape.“Whatever this wild goose chase is, kid, I really hope I don’t find your dead body at the end of it.”

Jason checked the pinned location on his phone once more and then stared across at the glowing letters on the Breckenridge Psychiatric Hospital sign again. Of all of the places Jason expected Tim to be hiding out in while in his civvies, a mental hospital in Bludhaven didn’t even make the list. It filled Jason with an uneasy feeling.

He decided to play it safe to start off with and removed his domino mask, slipping it into the pocket of his leather jacket which he zipped up tight to cover his body armor hidden underneath. He made his way to the front doors, wrestling with his anxiety the entire way there. After all... things had been more than a little crazy with Bruce dying, Damian replacing Tim as Robin, and Tim moving on to his new identity as Red Robin. It wasn’t impossible that Tim had checked himself in for a bit, though there was a nasty notion floating around the back of Jason’s head that this whole situation reeked of Dick’s smothering sort of concern.  

Jason asked for Alvin Draper at the receptionist desk, Tim’s go-to undercover identity.

The nurse behind the reception station replied in a tone that suggested she was reading off doctor’s notes from her computer. “Mr. Draper was recently moved to the Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit after exhibiting violent behavior against the hospital staff. His visitation privileges have been temporarily suspended until his psychologist believes he is no longer a harm to himself or others.”

Jason blinked hard at that one. “Violent behavior against the staff? I think there’s got to be a mistake here. What medical reason did T—uh, Alvin give when he checked himself into the facility.”

“Mr. Draper didn’t check himself in. A family member petitioned for it to prevent further destructive behaviors to his person and the public.”

The public, Jason mentally rolled his eyes. He’s 130 lbs dripping wet. What’s the worst he could do?

Still, if Tim was here against his will, this didn’t bode well for the situation within the family and Tim’s emotional state at the moment. Jason slumped against the receptionist’s station, not believing what he was hearing and wanting nothing more than to bang his forehead against the table top. “Wait… so you’re telling me he’s here on involuntary psych hold?”

“Okay. Okay,” Jason couldn’t figure out when Tim’s well-being had become such a serious issue for Jason, but suddenly here he was acting like the kid’s lawyer. “Well, when did he get committed? Psych holds are usually only for a few days and then the issue has to be brought up against a judge, right?”

“Shouldn’t you know all this already, hon? I thought you said you were a friend of the family. Do you want me to call the person of contact and see if they can come down and explain the situation?”

Jason could sense the motherly concern in her voice. He was trying to fly under the radar on this and having the nurse take an interest in him was not the way to do that. He’d draw too much attention to himself and to ‘Alvin Draper’ and that was the last thing Jason needed, but it wasn’t entirely useless.

“No, no. That’s okay,” Jason waved off the question. “Look… If I can’t talk to him, could you at least pass on a gift to him from me?”

The nurse opened her mouth, an objection clearly in the making. Jason beat her to the punch as he pulled a paperback book free of his backpack. “It’s just a book. No lewd images or anything like that. I promise.”

He watched the woman sigh and fiddle with the pen she held. As he figured, that motherly concern was still lingering in the air. She’d feel too heartless to deny him entirely. “Fine. Take a seat and I’ll let you know if it passes the security check.”

Jason flashed her his best smile and perched on the edge of a waiting room chair. Thank God I was expecting a stakeout and brought something to read.

“What’s your name, hon?” She wiggled the book held in her hand. “For your friend.”

“Tell him it’s from John D. He’ll know who I am.” He replied as the woman made ready to stand up.

As the nurse left for the security desk, Jason skimmed his eyes across the signs for the PICU wing and walked out the main doors. It looked like John Doe would have to return Alvin Draper’s favor and stage a prison break of his own.

Jason walked around the entire hospital two times, once in a tight perimeter to check for  possible points of entry on the grounds and parking garage level, and once more in a wider circle to evaluate the upper floors. He stopped back at his apartment to refill his backpack with supplies, shed his hoodie and don his helmet. Then he was out the door.

Jason scaled a drainpipe up to the floor where the Psych ICU was located and slide in through a cracked window in the staff break room. It wasn’t exactly easy to walk around a hospital in body armor and a red helmet unnoticed, even on the night shift when most of the nurses were getting a head start on  their paperwork. So Jason had timed his break-in at the same time as a new admittee, whose arrival came with a police and paramedic escort. All he had to do was wait as a huddle of nurses rushed passed his hiding spot for the elevator before he could walk freely into the PICU, using the ID card he’d swiped off a sleeping attendant while waiting.

The unit was sparsely populated in comparison to the general psych unit, with all of the patients closed off from each other behind locked doors in their own private rooms. Jason glanced through the window of each door until he found a patient who actually returned his stare. The kid, probably a boy all of fifteen, startled back at the sight of him, but seemed to recover when he realized the Red Hood wasn’t after him.

“Hey, you know which room Alvin Draper is in?”

The kid slid off his bed and walked up to the door. He scratched at the patchy beginnings of facial hair that covered his chin and neck. “Draper?”

“Yeah,” Jason held a hand up to his chin. “Around this high, seventeen, brown hair. Speaks with a know-it-all kind of voice that makes you want to punch him in the face.”

The boy’s face lit up with recognition. “Oh yeah, the misdiagnosed guy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, when he first arrived he told me his name was Alvin. Seemed pretty normal for a paranoid guy. Then a few days after he starts seeing his psychiatrist, he has a panic attack in the common room and makes me promise to call him Tim. Says he’s not really Alvin Draper. Don’t know how the doctors missed such an obvious case of dissociative identity disorder.”

Oh shit. Jason just hoped that was the only thing Tim told this kid. If he had let his real identity slip under all the meds in here, the least of their problems would be dealing with reporters asking what made Tim Drake crack.

“So, where can I find him?”

“Basement level, down in the old wing of the hospital. Nobody’s used it for years— fire code violations or some shit— but Dr. Keselman uses it for the clinical sleep trial he’s working on.”

“Thanks.”

Jason turned to walk away.

“Hey! Wait, wait!” The kid tapped urgently on the door’s surface to get his attention.

Jason turned back, raising an eyebrow under his mask even though he knew the younger boy couldn’t see it. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you could get a letter to someone for me?”

“No ‘cause I’m not a fucking mailman.”

“No, just hear me out for a sec—”

Jason sighed. “Sure. I’ve only broken into a psych ward. Not like I’m on a time crunch.”

“It’s to my kid sister, man. They don’t let us keep our phones in here and my mom won’t answer any of my letters or bring her to visit me.”

Jason groaned. “Alright, hurry up. Slide it under the door.”

The kid flashed a smile and did as told. “I always thought you were cool. Scary… but cool.”

He was in the process of picking the letter off the ground when he noticed another girl waving a piece of paper at him in the window.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jason glanced back through the windows that looked into the general ward, checking that the halls were still clear for the moment. He took the risk and raised his voice to be heard down to the end of the line of rooms.

“Alright, everyone with a letter slide it under the door.”

He hurried back and forth across the hall and gathered the letters into one gloved hand. Then jabbed a finger at a few of the kids closest to him. “I’m making no promises about these, but I’ll try. Also, stay out of trouble and only do the drugs you’re prescribed.”

He slipped the stack of letters into his jacket pocket and hurried down the stairs towards the basement. “Yeah, I’m a real terror on the streets of Gotham. If I get any more like B I think I might just barf.”

He really couldn’t find Tim soon enough.

[georgettebaker4569]

Stop Trivializing AI: It is not just Automation | Blog

AI is certainly being used to attempt to solve many of the world’s big problems, such as health treatment, societal security, and the water shortage crisis. But Everest Group research suggests that 53 percent of enterprises do not – or are not able to – differentiate between AI and intelligent automation and what they can do to help them compete and grow. This trivialization of AI is both eye opening and frustrating.

While it’s true that automation of back-office services is one strong case for AI adoption, there are many more that can deliver considerable value to enterprises. Examples we’ve researched and written about in the past year include intelligent architecture, front-to-back office transformation, talent strategies, and AI in SDLC.

It’s been said that “audacious goals create progress.”  So, how should enterprises think more creatively and aspirationally in their leverage of artificial intelligence to extract real value? There are three ingredients to success.

Think beyond Efficiency

Enterprises are experimenting with AI-driven IT infrastructure, applications, and business services to enhance the operational efficiency of their internal operations. We have extensively written about how AI-led automation can drive 10-20 percent more savings over traditional models. But enterprises have far more to gain by experimenting with AI to fundamentally transform the entire landscape, including product design customer experience, employee engagement, and stakeholder management.

Think beyond CX

Most enterprises are confusing putting bots in their contact center with AI adoption. We discussed in an earlier post that enterprises need to get over  their CX fixation and drive an ecosystem experience with AI at the core. Our research suggests that while 63 percent of enterprises rank CX improvement as one of their top three expectations of artificial intelligence, only 43 percent put newer business model among their top three. We believe there are two factors behind this discouraging lack of aspiration: market hype-driven reality checks (which are largely untrue), and enterprises’ inability to truly grasp the power of AI.

Think beyond Bots

While seemingly paradoxical, humans must be central to any AI adoption strategy. However, most enterprises believe bot adoption is core to their AI journey. Even within the “botsphere,” they narrow it down to Robotic Process Automation (RPA), which is just one small part of the broader ecosystem. At the same time, our research shows that 65 percent of enterprises believe that AI will not materially impact their employment numbers, and that bodes well for their realization of the importance of human involvement.

And, what do enterprises need to do?

Be Patient

Our research suggests that 84 percent of enterprises believe AI initiatives have a long gestation period, which undoubtedly leads to the business losing interest. However, given the nature of these technologies, enterprises need to become more patient in their ROI expectation from such initiatives. Though agility to drive quick business impact is welcome, a short-sighted approach may straight jacket initiatives to the lowest hanging fruits, where immediate ROI outweighs longer term business transformation.

Have Dedicated AI Teams

Enterprises need AI champions within each working unit, in appropriate size alignment. These champions should be tech savvy people who understand where the AI market is going, and are able to contextualize the impact to their business. This team needs to have evangelization experts in who can talk the language of technology as well as business.

Hold Technology Partners Accountable

Our research suggests that ~80 percent of enterprises believe their service partners lack the capabilities to truly leverage artificial intelligence for transformation. Most of the companies complained about the disconnect between the rapid development of AI technologies and the slowness of their service partners to adopt. Indeed, most of these partners sit on the fence waiting for the technologies to mature and become enterprise-grade. And by then, it is too late to help their clients gain first-mover advantage.

As AI technologies span their wings across different facets of our lives, enterprises will have to become more aspirational and demanding. They need to ask their service partners tough questions around AI initiatives. These questions need to go far beyond leveraging AI for automating mundane human tasks, and should focus on fundamentally transforming the business and even creating newer business models.

Let’s create audacious goals for artificial intelligence in enterprises.

What has been your experience adopting AI beyond mundane automation? Please share with me at yugal.joshi@everestgrp.com.

The post Stop Trivializing AI: It is not just Automation | Blog appeared first on Everest Group.

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[anoldwound]

Wicked Game, Chapter 3 - Nathan/OC [Heroes]

Title: Wicked Game - 3/3 Characters/Pairings: Nathan/OC Rating: R Warnings: Slash, sexual situations, cursing, alcohol consumption Word Count: 3,069 Spoiler alert: "Six Months Ago". Summary: James had been captivated by Nathan’s ease of manner, and his charming, toothy smile, and the sparkle in his sharp eyes. Takes place a month before "Genesis". A/N: I wasn't going to post this 'til tomorrow, but I was bored. Enjoy! ^_^ Part One Part Two “He’ll be taken care of,” Nathan’s campaign manager assured him as James stood outside the suite. “Okay,” he said. “Let me know how he does, all right?” “Will do.” And the campaign manager swiftly shut the door in James’s face. *** He was struck with the vague sense that it had all been another one of his dreams as he woke up the next morning in his own bed. But when he looked over at the cell phone lying on his nightstand and saw 5 missed calls from Nathan Petrelli, he knew that it hadn’t been. The thought gave a jolting thrill that went straight to his heart, and he threw his legs over the side of the bed as he reached for his phone and pressed the “call” button. The phone rang and rang. Nathan picked up after seemingly eons, and said, “Hello?” “Hey, it’s me.” James bit his fist as he waited for Nathan’s reply. “Oh.” Silence. Then, “Look, can I talk to you?” “We’re talking right now, genius.” “I meant at your place,” Nathan said. “We can’t talk about this with people around.” Obviously he remembered last night. James took a deep breath and said, “All right. How soon can you be here?” “Give me about an hour.” “All right. See you.” He hung up and went down the hall into the master bathroom to take a quick shower before Nathan showed up. God, this whole thing was surreal! He just didn’t know how to take it all in. Nathan had kissed him...actually kissed him! Hard and deep, too. Passionately. Roughly. It was the sexiest kiss James had ever received in his life, and he’d had his share of sexy kisses.  And to think it had come from Nathan! A drunken Nathan, true, but still Nathan. He giggled and blushed as he thought about it. “Oh, I feel like a little schoolgirl,” he said in a sing-song voice as he rubbed conditioner through his hair. After washing himself and shaving his legs, he skipped on out of the shower and rubbed his hair quickly with a nice, fluffy towel. He didn’t have time to style it, but blow-drying it quickly would suffice. Well, maybe he could spike it a little bit—no, that would seem too teenager-ish. Yeah, he should just blow-dry it. And run some gel through it so it would stay in place. Yeah. Yeah, that was good. About forty minutes later, he was finally done with his hair and his face cleansing routine. All of this grooming business took a rather long time, but he found it to be worth it, as looking your best was never a bad thing. Right? Especially now. Whew, he felt out of breath! He fanned himself and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He looked fabulous. Fabulous enough to make any guy weak in the knees. Just then, the elevator in the entrance foyer dinged, and James’s heart leapt. He was here! James leapt out of the bathroom and raced down the hall, almost tripping over his own feet, and quickly slid across the linoleum floor to greet Nathan, who was standing there waiting for him. The expression on his face did not bode well. It was his poker face—i.e. his “I look stern and angry because I do not wish others to see the inner turmoil going on inside my mind” face. James had seen this face a lot over the years—and it usually brought ill news. “H-hello,” he stammered, and noticed his shirt was hanging outside of his pants. He quickly tucked it in.   “Hello.” They stared at each other for several uncomfortable moments, until James had the presence of mind to invite him into the living room. “No, I think I’ll stay out here.” He seemed to not know how to proceed. “Your hair looks nice.” James patted it self-consciously. “Yeah, well. Thanks.” More awkward silence. Then Nathan finally said, “Look, about last night—” James gave a faint laugh. “I’m not even sure it was real.” “It was,” Nathan said shortly. “And I’m sorry it happened.” James faltered. “Er, sorry...?” “I was drunk,” Nathan continued. “I’m pretty sure you were drunk too, and I know you didn’t...mean what you said, like I didn’t mean to...to...well, you know. And I think it’s best if we never spoke of this to anyone, all right? Have you told anyone about what happened? Anybody from the press or anything?” “No.” “Good. And don’t. I can’t have something like this ruin my image, Yates. It would destroy me, my family, and everything I’ve ever worked for, for something that was just induced by a large consumption of alcohol.” He said the last part with a particular emphasis. “You’ve certainly thought this through,” said James coldly. “Didn’t really take that much thought, you know,” Nathan chuckled. “Even with this damn hangover. Feel like my skull’s on fire.” “I’d imagine.” “Look, let’s just put this all behind us, all right? I don’t want things to be...awkward...between us. Okay?” Bit late for that, James thought, but mumbled his assent. “Good man.” Nathan smiled. “Remember—keep it under wraps, yeah?”   “Gotcha.” And with that, Nathan turned and went back down James’s private, skinny elevator. James sank down onto the floor. He could not feel his legs or his head or his heart or anything in his entire body. He didn’t know why he had been expecting something to happen. It was Nathan, for God’s sake. Nathan, the guy with a wife and two kids. Nathan, the guy that was running for Congress. Why would he come here at eleven o’clock in the morning to confess his love to another man? James felt incredibly stupid and childish, and he hugged his knees to his chest as he laid in a fetal position on the hard, cold floor. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid... *** He was coming home from work later that night, exhausted and in a crappy mood. He would’ve gone out to a bar to relieve his frustrations, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy or the willpower. He probably shouldn’t be out having sex every night anyway—he’d get some sort of disease eventually. He flicked on the light switch and the foyer was bathed in brightness. James set his keys down on the table and whipped off his jacket. He didn’t bother putting it on the hanger and instead let it drop to the floor. Rubbing his eyes, he shuffled into the kitchen to make himself a quick dinner when the phone rang. “Hello?” he said, picking up the receiver hanging on the wall. “I need to see you,” said a hoarse whisper on the other end. “Nathan?” He plopped down onto a nearby chair. “What’s going on?” “I need to see you,” Nathan repeated, and took a deep, shuddering sigh. “I...I...God, I can’t say it...” “Spit it out,” James said, rolling his eyes, sick of Nathan’s stupid cat and mouse games. He was so tired of being led on like this... “Just...get over here, would you?” “Over where?” “Hyde Park.” “Nathan! That’s a hundred miles away!” James exclaimed. He had to be kidding with this! “It’s important,” Nathan insisted. “We...we all need to talk to you.” “We?” “Yes. Uh, everyone. We have a crisis on our hands. You’re the only one that can help, Jim, you’re the only one who’ll know what to do...” James sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” “Great. I’ll see you.” James hung up. He was going to need at least four cups of coffee to stay awake tonight... *** Two hours and three bathroom breaks later, James’s limo was pulling up in front of the Petrelli residence. “Do you want me to wait outside, sir?” the chauffeur asked as James was about to step out of the car. “Um...” James wasn’t sure how long this would take, but just in case the meeting was very brief, he said, “Yeah, stay here.” He climbed out the limo, the driveway’s gravel crunching beneath the soles of his leather shoes. He lightly jogged up to the front doorway, his coat swaying, and pressed the doorbell. He turned his feet on their sides as he waited, hands in his pockets. This better be good, he thought, as the door swung open to reveal Nathan with his hair disheveled and his shirt mis-buttoned. He looked tired and miserable, just like James felt. “Wow, looks serious,” James said, instantly concerned in spite of himself. “C’mon in,” Nathan said, and gestured for James to enter, which he did. “I really need to talk to you about something...” He closed the door shut with a quiet snap. “Where’re Heidi and—” But James did not get to finish his sentence as Nathan quickly pinned him to the wall, his breathing heavy and shallow. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Nathan panted. “About what happened last night.” “Nathan, if you made me come all this way just so you could beat me up—” “No, that’s not it!” he cried hysterically. His eyes were bulging strangely. “H-Heidi and the kids aren’t home. She’s in Vermont doing a charity ball thing, and she made the boys go with her.” “So...?” “So, we’re all alone!” There was a heavy silence, and James whispered, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” “I dunno,” said Nathan. “What do you think I’m saying?” He didn’t answer, and instead gazed into Nathan’s hungry and longing eyes that, even after two years, he still didn’t know the color of. “What color are your eyes?” “What?” “Your eyes,” he said. “What color are they?” Nathan stared at him. He gripped James tightly by the shoulders, leaned in, and gave him a slow, light kiss. “Hazel,” he whispered as he pulled away. Duh. James cautiously grabbed Nathan by the waist and kissed Nathan experimentally, his tongue exploring the crevices in Nathan’s mouth and his lips moving slowly in and out. He felt every inch of him trembling, and felt Nathan tremble too. They were embracing, their kissing growing deeper and deeper, James’s back rubbing up against the wall. Nathan moaned and dug his thigh between James’s legs, which made James gasp and shudder. Nathan was planting quick, wet kisses all over James’s neck. James gripped Nathan’s back, his nails practically tearing their way through Nathan’s shirt, his head bent backwards and his eyes shut tight. “Oh my God....” he muttered, and Nathan stopped kissing his neck and pressed his forehead to James’s. “Why the...sudden...change of heart?” James panted as they stood there, their sweaty brows gently sliding together. “I dunno,” Nathan said. He was panting rather heavily as well. “You’re there in my head all the time...can’t get you out...” “Me too.” They kissed again, fierce and ferocious and lustful. James wrapped his legs around Nathan’s, and Nathan pulled back. “Upstairs?” “Yeah.” They practically flew up the steps, holding hands like teenagers out on a sexual escapade. James was giggling, and so was Nathan, because the whole thing was terribly strange, yet at the same time perfectly rational. Nathan slammed his bedroom door shut, and shoved James down on the bed like he had done last night, only with much more force. James bounced gently up and down. “Water bed,” he said. “Interesting.” Nathan laughed like a lion, and threw himself on top of him, kissing him deeply as he unbuttoned James’s shirt. James ran his fingers through Nathan’s hair and tore off his shirt’s buttons without a thought. “Hey! That was an Armani!” Nathan protested, sitting up and gazing in horror at the loose buttons scattered all over the bed and floor. “Too bad for you,” James said unsympathetically, and ran his hands down Nathan’s bare chest, almost getting an erection just from doing that. So, Nathan shaved. Why was he not surprised? Nathan groaned softly, and buried his head in James’s neck as James rubbed Nathan’s chest faster and faster, sitting up and nibbling at his nipples. “Holy—fucking—GOD—” Nathan cried in short bursts as James unbuckled Nathan’s belt and threw it aside; he unbuttoned Nathan’s pants with ease and pulled them down. Nathan looked like he was going to die from sheer pleasure as James switched positions with him and pulled down his silk boxers. “Wait!” he cried. James stopped. “What is it?” “It’s just...I’ve never done this before,” said Nathan, laughing with embarrassment. “With another man, I mean. What happens now?” “What the hell do you think, idiot?!” James tittered, and leaned down. “Oh—shit—!” Nathan’s fingers clutched the bed sheets for dear life. *** The morning sun streamed in through the white curtains. James’s eyes lazily fluttered open, and he felt confusion for a second as he gazed at surroundings that were not his own. Then, he remembered—and smiled. He rubbed his hand down over his face and looked next to him; Nathan was sleeping like a baby. He looked so peaceful, all wrapped up in the cotton sheets, his face in an expression of pure bliss. James felt his eyes soften as he looked down upon him; now, with the white walls and the curtains and the sun...it was as close to heaven as one could get while still on Earth. James slowly climbed out of the bed, not wanting to disturb Nathan in his slumber. He tip-toed to the bathroom, picking up his carelessly tossed aside clothes as he did so. He glanced at the clock; it was 10:27. No way he was getting to work on time. Oh, well. What the hell did it matter? He’d just had wild, hot, crazy sex with Nathan Petrelli. Nothing mattered today. Not even the fact that he couldn’t find his underwear. Wanting to stay, but knowing that he couldn’t lest he miss a very vital meeting with the head of Paramount Pictures, he quickly changed into his clothes, scribbled a quick note on a Post-It that he stuck on Nathan’s forehead (giggling quietly as he did so), and snuck out of the house and back to his poor limo driver, who was sleeping at the wheel. *** The work day was wrapping up, and James was flying high from his success at the Paramount meeting and his success the previous night. He hadn’t felt this alive in years—he was skipping around the office and listening to disco music and smiling like a crazy person, his grin reaching each ear. He suspected he was scaring Charlotte, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass about her and her “feelings”, and continued enjoying himself as he put away some videotapes, humming “Zippity-doo-dah” under his breath. He was just about to head back home when all of a sudden Nathan was standing in the doorway. He screamed and some papers he had been holding fell to the ground. “God, Nathan!” James laughed, stooping down to pick up the papers. “You scared me...” Nathan didn’t say anything, and simply strode past him to the large window that overlooked Manhattan. He put his hands in his pockets and surveyed the skyscape, standing there for several long minutes. “Something you want?” asked James, stuffing the papers into his briefcase. Nathan didn’t reply at first, but soon said, not turning his head, “You came to New York for me, didn’t you?” “W-what?” James felt himself blush. “You left California so you could be near me.” Nathan’s voice sounded like a rock. “I...I don’t...” It was true, but too embarrassing to admit. Nathan hung his head. “You should go back, Jim.” There was a silence that made James’s ears ring. “What do you mean? Why?” “You can’t be here, Jim. I can’t have you around. You’ve become a liability.” “Excuse me?” James could not believe this. “A liability?” Nathan brought his head back up and turned to face him. “As cold as it sounds, yes, you are. What happened last night...I lost my head. Completely. And I’m not saying that I...I regret it, but...” He bit his lip. “It’s all just a game, man, don’t you see? Politics. It’s all one big game. Hiding your weak links from your opponents. Making sure those weak links can’t be found, because if they are, the game’s over and you lose. And I’m not gonna lose, Jim.” James didn’t say anything. “Listen, if you stay, I—well, I don’t know what I’ll do, I’ll..I’ll probably want to fuck you senseless every day for the rest of my life, and I can’t do that! I’ll want to spend every waking moment with you, I...I already do...and I can’t. It would ruin everything. Not even just my career, but my family...” James still said nothing. “I’m sorry.” Nathan reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. “Here’s five grand.” “What?” “Take it.” Nathan thrust it at him, but James shoved it away. “You think you can just buy me off?!” James exclaimed. His heart felt like it was being wrenched out of him. “No! No, that’s not what I mean...I just thought I’d pay for your plane tickets and...and anything else you need; really, it’s the very least I can do...” Nathan carefully placed it in James’s jacket pocket. He hesitated, then gripped James firmly by the shoulders. “I know this is difficult,” Nathan said quietly. “But it has to be done, you understand?” His eyes darted around the room as though looking for people hiding behind the chairs and bookcases, and then, finding no one, swiftly kissed James on the cheek.   “I’m falling for you hard, Jim,” he whispered softly into his ear. “That’s why you have to go. Say you’ll do it, please...” James closed his eyes and nodded. Nathan let out an enormous sigh of relief, and patted him on the back. “Good man.” He started out the door, then paused and turned slightly. “You get it, don’t you?” James pivoted slowly on his heel to face Nathan. He smirked faintly. “Yeah. I get it. Chess.” “Exactly.” Nathan gave a small smile, and, his back tense and his fists clenched, left, for the last time. James didn’t feel like he was anywhere. Without any emotion, he took the envelope full of money out of his pocket and threw it into the trash, where the newspaper from days ago announcing Nathan’s dip in the polls still lay. He pushed his fists onto his desk, his back hunched, and refused to shed one tear.

[severelydistinguishedenthus-blog]

Valentino

I guess no matter what you’re really into, fashion is as individualistic as you or I.

Certainly zinged on massively, since I used to make tie dyed tee shirts at Boarding School.

And is an absolute fantastic opportunity for our creative youngsters to get into, as it’s all about creative flair, expression and making a ‘statement’ both inwardly and outwardly.

Seoul Fashion Week

Looks from Xu Zhi

GOBRUTAL COURAGE OVER FEAR British

GOBRUTAL COURAGE OVER FEAR British

And it’s interesting to note, that you don’t have to spend millions – you don’t have to overly ‘stratergise’ (stupid word and pretty pointless process anyway) – you don’t have to follow the crowd – you don’t have to be drowned in process.

What you do need to do – is to be you.

Nothing gets more attention, than genuine people, doing really great things, with passion – enthusiasm – commitment – purpose – and human flair.

And that’s what it’s all about – and, what we need more of in today’s world.

In the words of the truly great, and hugely imaginative and creative Pete Tong –

‘combining the ‘old’ + a twist of the ‘new’ = something new’

It’s always a balanced equation:

1/ latest techniques, latest materials, latest processes = something new.

OR

2/ old techniques, old materials, old processes, new creativity = something new.

OR

3/ old techniques, latest materials, creative design = something new.

You’ll notice that in the latter two, is inserted the word creative, for that’s the fundamental ingredient that makes a winner out of you, as opposed to a follower.

Certainly, for the majority of us, the key ingredient in buying a ‘fashionable’ garment, is comfort-ability – and why not, for heavens sake, as you’re the one who has to wear the thing anyway.

Personally for me, the key has always been about comfort, for if you’re not comfortable in the ‘thing,’ it doesn’t half show!

Sure you can spend significant sums on say an Armani suit, might look the bees knees, though I doubt that it’ll be instantly recognised as one, unless you wear the jacket inside out.

Or, you can spend a handful on a tailored set, from a Hong Kong street market tailor, that’ll possibly look as equally great, and probably slightly more comfortable.

The choice is always yours.

And this is where the psychology really comes into play – in terms of the ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ feeling.

Just consider, the ‘power play’ psychology of the GOBRUTAL – COURAGE OVER FEAR logo?

Fit for the modern world, most certainly, especially as our youngsters want to stand out as individuals, and feel good about themselves (the inner and outer combined).

And, they are having to over come more and more ‘fears’ than we ever had to encounter – though the word ‘fear’ in this written context, should really read future anxieties, say, that can be overcome.

However, with shifts in fashion, towards a more ‘dressed down’, yet individualistic approach, should be excellent news for our aspiring young fashion designers, and designer boutiques.

Certainly with the top level market in a state of disarray, this should also bode well for smaller boutique designer outlets, as more and more consumers want the individualistic look, whenever they feel like it.

A direct quote: (by FRANCESCA FEARON 24 MAR 2016)

 ‘Seasons are shifting, retail is tough and the fashion world is in  crisis –  that is, if you believe the  headlines.  The industry needs a new system, but it’s hard to corral hundreds of brands into  agreement.  While a brand  such as Valentino is growing fast,  touching US$1 billion in sales  last year (with Moncler hot on its heels), many others are struggling.

Most brands continue to  stick to a  schedule that’s been  operating for 100 years – collections for spring-summer are debuted in autumn, and autumn-winter lines are shown in early spring – but others are offering a fast-fashion solution, whereby stores and clients buy straight from the catwalk and clothes are delivered in a few  weeks.  This discordancy is chipping away at what used to be a strictly regimented and regulated system’.

This discord, if indeed it’s to be believed, seems to lend itself perfectly towards a shift to the smaller boutique designer houses, but how do they get themselves noticed, and attract the right talent as it comes along?

MY STORE might just be a solution here, so I’ll let you read about it for yourselves.

MY STORE Read More

Either way, I certainly see a great future for our wonderfully talented young designers, and boutique styled outlets and designers – though I agree that the overall model has to change.

Also, if you couple a change in the model, with the fact that the retro ‘look’ is increasingly fashionable, worldwide, then you have the perfect recipe for potential future success.

‘something old + something new = something new’

KO

Creative World Of Fashion ‘Awesome’ If We Change The Business Model Valentino I guess no matter what you're really into, fashion is as individualistic as you or I.