#One of the news reporters that’s actually trying says he is genuinely shaken by what he was seeing

[peteytheparrot]

Every single high quality picture of the drones look like if planes or drones were made by ai…. It’s all warped and weird, you don’t even know what you’re looking at half the time. Now I’m not a big believer of ufos and aliens n shit but HEAR ME OU-

[icey--stars]

Hey I saw in your bio that your requests are open? Pls ignore if they aren't 🙏🏼 but I had this idea for Azris, and as the queen of Azris angst, I knew I had to at least share it with you

So I've been watching the Shadowhunters show (idk if you've seen it) but basically there's this seen where Jace gets possessed by some spirit thing and starts attacking his best friend, Alec. And they have a whole fight scene and it ends with Jace stabbing Alec with an arrow. All the while the ghost thing is talking THROUGH Jace and saying stuff like "Your boy's in there, screaming, begging me not to do this." And Alec is all like "it's ok, it's not your fault.". (I would highly recommend searching that scene up, it's the best angst inspo and I'm horrible at explaining)

Anyways imagine that buttt...AZRIS!!! What if after they are officially mated and everything, running their court, a new threat emerges that basically possess Eris who then attacks Azriel, maybe he stabs him, maybe there's a bit of burning involved (pls I'm sorry I know it sounds fucked up, but I love a good angst)

And then when Eris gets rid of whatever is controlling, how would they heal from that, like move on and stuff cuz I can imagine Eris would be feeling hella guilty and Az would want to forgive him but still be shaken up himself too...

Anyways if you do decide to write you can change it up as you like, I know whatever you come up with will be AMAZINGGG

You Would Never Hurt Me

Azriel is at a weekly family dinner when suddenly his bond with Eris alerts him to danger. What will happen when he realizes his mate is being controlled by another? What lengths will he go to? - 5.3k words of emotional pain.

Author's Note: Queen of Azris Angst? we sure? y'know what... i'll take it XD. I took a few creative liberties, but actually not too many... but I hope you enjoy :D

ouch my soul hurts. genuinely hurt me to write this but it just hurt so good. Also, I did end up changing the part about Az hesitating to forgive him because he was shaken up purely because the situation was so much more angsty with Az desperately trying to convince Eris everything is okay.

TW: Depictions of violence, mentions of blood, SEVERE burns, Azriel’s canon backstory, mind control trope, descriptions of severe injuries

also this was not edited very much. apologies for any mistakes!

{ ao3 link }

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The newest threat to Prythian had been biding their time for a while. Azriel wasn’t going to lie that he was nervous. He and his spies in both courts he had close connections to had been unable to find anything of use. The only thing that they seemed to know was that this enemy was intelligent and not without power. They didn’t even know if it was a fae from the continent, Prythian or even Hybern. All reports had come up useless in the grander scheme of things.

“Az, if you keep that frown on your face, it might just become permanent,” Cassian teased. He’d gone to the weekly dinner at Velaris this week. This time, without Eris. Normally he’d come along, but Eris had decided he wanted to finish up some of the paperwork and work on training one of the newest ghost hound yearlings some more commands.

Azriel couldn’t help but feel tense over the matter since he knew he’d seen more signs of the enemy closer to the Autumn Court than anywhere else. It had his metaphorical hackles standing on end almost constantly.

Cassian nudged his shoulder with his knuckles. “Come on, Az,” his brother urged. “Relax a moment. I know you’d rather Eris be here, but he’s going to be just fine. He’s a damn High Lord of fire. I think he can manage a night without your shadows surrounding him.”

Azriel sighed, nodding in agreement. “Sorry, Cass,” He mused. “Something just feels off tonight.”

“How so?” Rhys questioned from across the table, still facing Nyx as he tried to bargain with the child over eating his greens.

Azriel shrugged. “The shadows are jittery. The darkness doesn’t bring comfort. Something is just off,” he replied.

Rhys hummed in acknowledgement. Feyre replied, “Is it about that threat?” She asked carefully. The bags under her eyes were evidence that the little Heir to the Night Court was still having trouble sleeping since his visit to the Illyrian camps.

“I’m not entirely sure. But I’ve seen more signs of them near the Autumn Court than anywhere else,” he admitted. “I wish we knew what they were capable of at the very least.”

“Whatever it is, Az, I’m sure we can handle it,” Rhys said, looking up toward him. “We’ve handled far worse than one crazed individual. But if you’re nervous and you’re not even going to eat what’s on your plate until you get back to your mate, none of us will fault you for leaving.”

Nesta nodded from where she sat beside Cassian, but she was also just playing with her foot with her fork. “That, or you can kidnap him and force him to attend dinner and book club,” Nesta mused, smirking as she glanced over at him.

Azriel scoffed in amusement. “I’m not so sure he’d appreciate that, Nes.”

Nesta chuckled. “No, but it’d make your sorry ass stop brooding for five minutes.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, turning away. He put his fork down. They weren’t wrong to say he couldn’t stomach food with this… itch of some sort bugging the hell out of him.

Suddenly, the bond twitched inside of him. Not a good twitch either.

Azriel sat up straight immediately, putting a hand to his chest when more emotions began flowing through. Worry. Confusion. Fear.

Azriel stood up as quickly as he could, shadows flaring out.

“Azriel,” Rhys mused from the table. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s in danger,” Azriel breathed.

Rhys immediately stood up. “In danger? Eris? The Lord of Fire?”

“Don’t make jokes, Rhys,” he begged, breathing a bit heavier. “Don’t follow me yet. The wards will stop you. Just… keep a tab on my mind. I have a feeling what this is. And it’s not a nightmare.”

Then he winnowed, feeling Rhys gently prod into his mind to stay as a presence just on the outside of his mind so he’d know what’s happening too.

Azriel followed the bond, sprinting as fast as possible through the Forest House until-

Eris was in his office.

But then something stopped. The bond stopped. Empty.

Azriel burst in, panting terribly as he spotted Eris standing at his desk.

“Eris?” He questioned hesitantly.

Eris turned around, but his eyes were distant. Azriel’s heart dropped like a stone when he heard emotionless words come out of his mate’s mouth. “Eris is not here, Illyrian mongrel.”

Azriel squared his shoulders, pressing his already glowing siphon to form his armor over his body. He crouched down imperceptibly. “Eris, this is not a funny joke.”

That was just his denial talking though. Eris had never called him an Illyrian mongrel.

“Oh, he doesn’t?” The male asked hauntingly. “Are you so sure? I know you can’t be… being a bastard and all.”

Something slammed into his mental walls and Azriel stumbled back just as Rhys seemed to reel back in his mind.

Azriel gritted his teeth, forcing his eyes open as he stared into Eris’s eyes, waiting for the familiar clarity to come back.

“You’re pathetic,” Eris snarked. “One measly hit and it almost took you down? Weak.”

Rhys seemed to be doing something akin to building a second wall from within his mind, battling off something. Azriel couldn’t spare any mental energy to figure out what it was.

“Eris… you need to come back,” He said, but it really came out more like pleading.

Flames sparked on Eris’s palms and Azriel couldn’t help his flinch. Though his mate had been helping him overcome his fear as of late, something… something felt wrong about this.

“Eris,” he warned, eyes drawn down to the fire unconsciously. “What are you doing?”

“My name is not Eris,” he hissed, stalking closer. A dagger summoned to Eris’s palm, the flame lighting up the dagger’s edges as if it was some glowing blade. If he hadn’t been so shocked over the loss of his bond and the fear for his mate, he would’ve thought it almost looked cool. But right now? It was downright terrifying.

The male leapt at him and Azriel raised up his arms in defense, dodging to the side with only a few centimeters to spare. He didn’t want to hurt Eris. That was on the forefront of his mind.

But what was he supposed to do when Eris was trying to hurt him?

“Eris,” he pleaded. “Come back to me.”

Eris chuckled, one of the ones reserved for the lords in the council when they were pissing him off. “You know, your mate is putting up quite the fight in here. He’s been trained against people like me, but clearly not like you and your little friend protecting you.”

Azriel spared the moment of suspension to ask Rhys: What’s happening? Who?

Daemati, was Rhys’s only response and it was said as if through gritted teeth.

Shit. Eris was being controlled by a daemati. And though he had faith in Rhys, he knew that the male didn’t have much practice in fighting his own kind.

Azriel’s shadows rose like asps preparing to strike above his shoulders, as if sensing that this was not their beloved mate. No. This was an enemy this time. But he couldn’t hurt what was his.

“Let him go,” Azriel snarled.

Eris put a finger to his chin, tilting his head as if considering the prospect before scoffing. “No.” Then Eris leapt at him again. Azriel hadn’t been prepared this time- too much in shock to truly focus. His shadows reached out to cover his mate’s wrists in a desperate attempt to try and return him back, but it didn’t stop the dagger from lodging itself deep in his shoulder and twisting.

Azriel couldn’t help the pained groan that escaped him. He flared his wings and pushed forward quickly, grabbing Eris’s shoulders and pushing the male back. Though they were of equal strength, Azriel was stronger physically if they really tested themselves.

But the daemati had control over Eris’s magic at that moment and Azriel couldn’t help his yelp when the flames suddenly engulfed his hands. He wanted to scream and run, to get into the sky and never return-

He couldn’t though. This was his mate.

Azriel felt tears dripping out of his eyes as he pushed Eris back against a wall. “Come back to me,” he begged brokenly while staring into Eris’s beautiful fire-colored eyes.

“Please,” he continued.

Keep him held there, Rhys demanded in his mind. And release your shields.

Azriel really didn’t have the mental capacity to question Rhys at this moment, so he simply obeyed. The other daemati swept in, but Rhys met it head-on. Another presence joined the battlefield too- a softer type of darkness. Feyre.

A headache was beginning to bloom behind his temples at all the action occurring in his mind. More than anything though, his hands burned. The daemati was more distracted so the flames were certainly not as hot as they could be, but it still hurt.

Talk to him, Feyre ordered sternly. Bring your mate out of the fire.

Azriel let out a choked sob, his wings flaring behind him as he pressed toward Eris and rested his forehead against his mate’s. “Eris,” he begged. “I know this isn’t you. Come back to me. I know you wouldn’t-”

He cut off with a groan as the flames burned hotter. His flesh might be melting off to be honest. But he couldn’t let him go. Not now. Not ever. Azriel let another sob tear out of his throat as he pressed desperately into Eris.

“Come back to me,” he pleaded brokenly. “This isn’t you, Eris. You’re my mate. You’re mine. And you would never hurt me.”

Let go now, Feyre yelled over whatever clashing was occurring on the battleground between their minds.

“I can’t,” Azriel sobbed. He couldn’t let Eris go. Not like this. Not now. He needed his mate to know he was there and he would forgive him.

Az, let him go before your hands melt off, Rhys snarled harshly.

Azriel sobbed and stumbled backward. Eris remained standing against the wall as Azriel curled his hands toward his chest, shadows curling around them quickly, providing a soothing cold touch to them.

He kept his eyes open, watching Eris and watching his eyes. There was a flicker of fire there. Just a flicker.

“Eris,” he said again. The eyes went distant again and he snarled at the daemati, hoping the bastard could hear him over all the clashing. “Let him go. Let my mate go. Let Eris go, you-”

He couldn’t come up with an insult that could encompass all the hate he felt toward the being at this moment.

The bond flickered and Azriel clutched his chest. That put an idea in his head and he immediately brought all the love he felt for the male in front of him and shoved it down the bond as forcefully as he could. As well as some determination he hoped Eris would interpret as ‘You’re better than it. Fight back. You’re mine.’

Eris suddenly collapsed against the wall, body slumping into the floor. Azriel rushed forward before his head could slam into it as well. He cradled the male in his lap, tears still pouring down his cheeks. Everything was too much and not enough. He needed Eris, and that was about the only thing he could interpret.

“Eris, Eris, Eris,” he began repeating, pushing the hair out of his mate’s face desperately even as his shadows reported the door slamming open and Rhys with Cassian came running in.

They tried to grab his arms and drag him away but he fought harshly. “No! Don’t make me leave him,” he begged them. He needed to know his mate would be alright.

“We’ll get him too, Az,” Cassian said, pulling even more. “Rhys will get him. Come on, before your hands-”

Azriel held onto Eris even more, not wanting to leave his mate alone and afraid. Even if he was unconscious now, he would wake up and feel regret over something that wasn’t even in his control. He knew he would. But Azriel needed to be there so he could comfort him.

“Azriel,” Rhysand commanded sharply. “Let him go. Go to Madja.”

He wanted to disobey the command so badly, but his strength gave out and Cassian scooped him up onto his feet. Rhys picked Eris up into his arms and then they were winnowing straight into Madja’s clinic. Someone must’ve warned her because she already had a bucket of cold water that Cassian forced his hands into.

“Stay still,” Cassian ordered when he tried to twist and see where Rhys was taking his mate. “You’ve got to cool your hands down,” He told him. “Eris is just fine. He’s going to get checked out by Madja. You are going to get healed before your hands scar even worse with more permanent damage. Do you realize your skin is melting off?”

“But Eris-” Azriel tried to protest.

“Do not make me order you again, Az!” Rhys called from the other room. He saw Feyre winnow in as well, running toward where Rhys was. And Azriel was stuck here, useless, with his hands in a goddamn bucket. He couldn’t even feel the pain in the wake of knowing his mate was hurt.

He sobbed through his teeth. This was worse than his brothers burning his hands. This was so much worse than even the worst injuries he’s sustained in war or his line of work.

Feyre suddenly came up to him and her gentle presence ghosted along the edges of his mind before soothing something he didn’t even realize was tearing him apart from the inside it seemed like. The headache eased slightly.

“Is he okay?” He asked, looking up at Feyre. She had the most caring expression on her face and he wanted it gone.

“Rhys is with him right now,” Feyre told him. “Madja is there too, but you’re the main concern right now. He’s only going to have mental wounds. But Rhys can fix it, don’t worry,” she added on quickly when his face dropped.

“How?” He asked. “That kind of-”

“We caught it early and Rhys saw what was damaged in the fight. It’s okay, Azriel. He’s going to be okay. Now we need to make sure your hands are going to be okay, alright? Breathe and keep that even head I know you have. Eris is okay.”

Azriel sighed and slumped against whatever was nearby in relief. It ended up being Cassian. He trusted Feyre. Eris was going to be okay. And that was the only thing that mattered.

“Come on, Az,” Cassian urged, holding him up gently while still keeping his hands dunked in the water. “Your panicking will not help him if he wakes up.”

Azriel breathed and his shadows came up to whisper assurances that Eris was in the other room on a bed with Rhys and Madja. Cared for. He forced his body to come back from whatever super-adrenaline state it had gotten itself into.

“That’s it,” Cassian encouraged. “That’s good, Az. Do you feel any pain yet?”

At the mention, yes. His hands burned and not in any sort of good way. He didn’t dare look into the water. He probably couldn’t anyway since it was bloody. That probably wasn’t a good sign. The stabbing in his shoulder hurt, but it was duller than his hands at the moment.

“Yes,” he gritted out, huffing out some breath to suck more in anew as the pain now took over his being.

“I’ll get Madja,” Feyre said.

“No-” He said. “Leave her with Eris. I’m okay.”

“Eris is unconscious and Rhys is fully capable of caring for him. I’ll go over there too to help. But you need healing.”

Azriel sighed, knowing this wasn’t something Feyre would allow so he gave up on the argument early. “Okay,” he breathed. “Make sure he’s alright. Please.”

Feyre left and Madja was walking in quickly. “Get your shadows to cover your own eyes,” She ordered. The shadows, not completely under his will at the moment, took initiative and covered his eyes while she pulled his hands out of the cold water. They were numb in some places and burning in others.

Madja let out a harsh breath. “Do not lift that blindfold,” she told him and then the burning returned tenfold and he knew she was pushing healing magic into his hands. Cassian kept him restrained even as he tried to keep screams from bubbling out of his throat.

Alas, he could only stop them for so long and they soon spilled out. He lost any and all breath in his lungs all too quickly. Probably a good thing. Cassian kept him in a firm hold which grounded him somewhat but it hurt.

When he was finally given a reprieve, he was halfway towards passing out. When the pain mostly receded to a harsh ache, he finally drew in breath and slumped back against Cassian with his eyes closed.

“Come on, Az,” Cassian encouraged. “Let’s get you over to Eris, alright? Madja will wrap your hands there.”

Azriel could barely spare a hum of acknowledgement before he was being manhandled to his feet and forced to walk on shaky knees with droopy eyelids. His shadows had dropped back down to his hands, covering them from sight. Maybe that was a good thing, he decided. As soon as he saw Eris, he tried reaching out for his mate, but Cassian slapped his arm down.

“You are not using your hands, Az. Sit your ass down,” Cassian ordered. His brother helped him get out of his armor and leathers so he was just in his undershirt and pants.

He was forced to sit on the stool nearby, but was allowed to scoot it as close as possible to Eris to lean down over the bed and rest his forehead against Eris’s skin, breathing his mate’s scent in. It calmed his nerves just enough for him to finally take a deep breath.

Madja came in and forced him to hold himself up for a few more minutes while she wrapped his hands in white bandages as well as his shoulder. Then he was allowed to rest. Rhys pulled away from Eris eventually and he perked up, looking at his brother.

“He’ll be alright,” Rhys assured him. “At most, he won’t remember the fight, which I’d say is a mercy.”

Azriel sighed in relief and rested his head back down into Eris’s now cold palm since he couldn’t hold it properly. There, he fell asleep.

–––––

Azriel didn’t know how much time passed when he awoke. His hands ached like none other and if he had to be honest: everything hurt. Apparently, almost having your mate be gone to mind control by a daemati gave you some really bad tension to deal with. Specifically in his shoulders which were always the hardest to get at. Impossible now because of the thick bandages on his hands. The stab felt as if it’d already healed over. Perks of Illyrian healing, he supposed.

He lifted his head from wherever he was laying and squinted when he looked to his left and saw an empty bed.

“Eris?” He said aloud, sitting up and glancing around more. Someone must’ve moved him to the bed. But where was his mate? Azriel needed to be with him.

Suddenly, a burst of calm exploded from his chest and Azriel gasped for breath, not even realizing he’d been holding it. The bond. Thank the fucking Cauldron it was back. It meant that Eris was awake and okay enough to not be… well, dying.

Azriel groaned as he stood up, flexing his wings out behind him as he stared down at his hands. For Madja to have wrapped them so much he couldn’t even move his wrists… he must’ve gotten burned quite badly, he deduced. But, priority number one was finding Eris.

He tugged on the bond once, slowly wandering out toward where Madja usually sat in her clinic.

Eris was beside her.

Azriel breathed deeply at last, relief coursing through his veins at the sight of his mate being awake and even having a conversation with Madja over something relating to some sort of bright orange plant that looked like fire. He stumbled his way over there as quickly as he could, wrapping his arms around Eris and pressing his nose into the junction of his neck and shoulder to breathe in his scent.

Eris, however, had frozen. And that sent ice barreling through Azriel. What had happened?

“Hi Az,” Eris said hesitantly.

Azriel pulled away immediately, coming around to see Eris from the front to try and discern what the problem was.

For some reason, he had a guilty look on his face. Not a joking one- no, it was similar to the one he had when he figured out he’d accidentally forgotten something in court which led to the death of some farmers. A broken sort of regret.

“Eris, what’s wrong?” Azriel asked, brows furrowed in concern. “What happened? Did someone do something before I woke up? I’ll kill them for you with or without my hands,” he said, rage already pooling in his heart at the thought of someone making his mate feel this sort of guilt.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Eris waved him off, averting his gaze to the ground. “Nobody did anything besides that damned daemati.”

“I’m already killing him,” Azriel said to try and assure his mate. “I’m going to find him, tear his head from his shoulders and put it on a pike. Give the body to the scavengers and the head can be a personal trophy until it decays.”

A small chuckle came out of his mate’s chest and Azriel warmed up considerably, glad he could at least get that out of Eris. A chuckle was a start.

“Come on, Eris,” Azriel said, bringing his bandaged hands up to cup Eris’s cheeks. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m not blind.”

Eris sighed and then gently grabbed Azriel’s forearms to hold his hands up. “This is what’s wrong,” he pointed out as if it was obvious.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. Then he realized. “Eris, these are not your fault. These are that bastard’s fault.”

“It was my fire that burned you, Az,” Eris argued, releasing his hands and standing up.

Madja stood as well. “I’ll let you two talk this out. Let me know if someone starts dying,” she says as she walks out.

Azriel looked at Eris, checking him from top down for any injuries or other apparent signs of his emotions. Both males had tells even if they were masters at hiding away.

“It was your fire controlled by that bastard,” Azriel argued, pressing forward. He paused when Eris backed up, even more concerned. It’d been centuries since Eris had backed away from his comfort. 

“Eris,” he spoke softly. “I would’ve held you back even if my wings were burned off my shoulders. It is not your fault. Take away that guilt from your mind right fucking now. I could’ve let go the instant the daemati lit the flames, but guess what? I didn’t, did I?”

Eris looked sheepishly now and Azriel opened up his arms.

“It’s okay, Eris. You would never hurt me. I know that. You should already know that,” Azriel insisted. “My hands will heal in time. There’s a reason Madja is so esteemed as a healer. And I’m pretty sure she even got to the burns faster than the guards did when I was 8. The only reason I can speak about that night and not fear the flames is because of you.”

Eris now had tears running down his face and Azriel dared a step forward.

Eris didn’t move, but he didn’t come closer either. “I’m sorry,” Eris whispered, closing his eyes.

“You would never hurt me,” Azriel repeated.

“Your hands-”

“I don’t give a fucking shit about my hands,” Azriel cut him off. “I’d rather my entire arm be torn off than be in a world where you’re controlled by a daemati. Don’t you realize that? I would do anything to protect you. My hands being burned is the least of my worries.”

“Az, I still burned you. In the worst of places,” Eris argued.

“You did not burn me,” Azriel insisted. “You would never hurt me. Trust yourself on that, huh? Trust me on it at the very least.”

Eris choked on a sob and Azriel opened up his arms again. Finally, finally, his mate went stumbling into his comfort.

“I should have fought harder against his control,” Eris said, voice broken and muffled against Azriel’s shoulder. “I could have. But it was just so hard. It felt like everything in my mind had gone under ice, yet I could feel the heat escaping me. Burning you. I tried so hard and it didn’t work-“

“Shh…” Azriel hushed, holding Eris as tight as he could. “You did the best you could, Eris. The fact you even still remember the experience is a miracle in itself. Daemati can be very damaging. Can scratch memories. Rhys was able to repair them but I was so worried about you. You have no clue.”

Eris sobbed wetly into his shoulder and Azriel felt tears slipping down his own cheeks as well. He let his emotions flow freely over the bond. Eris’s were still a mix of guilt, but now it was more of a lost hopelessness than true guilt. More of a “I don’t know how to fix this” kind of look.

“There is nothing that you did wrong,” Azriel whispered. Eris hugged him tighter and he smiled, squeezing him back as well. His shadows were helping him give more force behind it since he was unable to use his hands and the damn plush of the bandages did not help.

“I don’t know what happened beyond the fact I burned you,” Eris admitted. “I was caught off guard since I was tired and waiting for you to come home. He just… snuck between my mental walls and latched on like a damn leech.”

“You need to rest more. Now that we know we’re dealing with a daemati, we need to keep mental shields sharp. But luckily we have some of the most powerful daemati on our side. It’s already two against one,” Azriel joked.

Eris chuckled and finally pulled away to meet Azriel’s eyes. “I’m going to help you heal your hands,” he declared. “I’ll help you with everything. Anything. Writing? Done. Massage or oil? Done.”

“If this is you trying to make up for a fake mistake, don’t,” Azriel said seriously.

“This is me helping my mate through an injury,” Eris replied, giving a small reassuring smile despite the obvious signs he’d been crying not even a few seconds ago.

“Good,” Azriel told him. “I’ll definitely take you up on the writing part. I’ve got to write down things about what happened. See if we can piece together clues. And maybe it’ll help you piece together your memory,” he added.

Eris nodded. “Anything,” he repeated.

“But first,” Azriel said, putting one bandaged hand up, “We’re going to bathe because we both stink.”

Eris couldn’t help the laugh that exploded from his chest and it made Azriel all the merrier. He loved making him laugh like this.

“Agreed,” his mate replied. “Maybe we should talk to Madja about the wrapping of your hands first?”

Azriel nodded in agreement. “Then a warm bath,” he added. “I may take you up on the massage you mentioned,” he joked. “My shoulders ache.”

“You were sleeping on a goddamn stool when I woke up,” Eris said, scoffing in amusement. “Of course your back is hurting, bat. You should have laid in the bed not even two feet away.”

“I needed to be close to you,” Azriel admitted. “I thought I wouldn’t sleep like the dead and be awake with you but…”

Eris chuckled. “You always sleep like the dead when your face is buried in my scent. Honestly, you shouldn’t have expected any differently.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. But the little banter also assured him that Eris was truly okay. At least for now, those thoughts of guilt had been warred against and lost.

Cassian came jogging in loudly suddenly and he sighed in relief when he spotted them. “Thank the fucking Cauldron you are both awake,” he panted. “Az? How are your hands?”

“Hurt, but they’re fine,” Azriel dismissed. “How bad were they?”

“You do not want to know,” Cassian replied.

“I would,” Eris spoke up. “After all, who knows how to heal burns better than the Fire Lord who deals them out?” He said. But luckily, his tone was lighthearted. No guilt to be seen. If there was, Azriel would’ve slapped the back of his head to reprimand those feelings.

Cassian hesitated, but then sighed. “Skin was practically melted off. Some parts were down to the bone. Bloody as hell,” he briefly described.

Azriel sucked in a breath, gazing down at his own hands. How had he not felt that? Apparently, his concern over Eris had been that powerful. Eris also seemed frozen in shock.

Cassian shrugged. “They looked better after Madja used all her healing magic on them. I think the only thing she was concerned about was the potential damage to your sense of touch, Az. Like, light touches.”

Azriel hummed in response. “It certainly wouldn’t be any different than the aftermath of my old injury,” he admitted. “Just takes a few years for it to return to normal.”

Cassian hummed. “Well, anyway, I was just coming here to check up on you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re fine,” Azriel assured his brother. After a moment of hesitation, he sighed and said, “Thank you, Cass. You kept a level head.”

Cassian scoffed. “Someone had to. You should’ve seen Rhys. He was practically catatonic with the mental battle. I’m surprised his or your head didn’t burst. Or Eris’s for that matter.”

Eris chuckled softly at that, but didn’t say anything. Azriel glanced at him before stretching his arms out best he could without the use of his hands. “Anyway, we’re off to get clean,” he declared.

“Tell Rhys the Autumn Court isn’t getting one of my brothers as ruler just yet,” Eris joked.

Cassian chuckled and nodded. “Don’t die,” he replied with a snicker before walking back where he came from. Wing beats told them that he’d actually left.

Madja was walking back in too. “While I’d rather keep your hands wrapped, Azriel, I do agree that you two need to bathe,” she explained. “I’ll unwrap them, but they’re going back on immediately after.”

The shadows floated towards her, some settling on the bandages of his hands as if in question to continue the order she gave them last time.

“I believe it will be alright if he sees his hands now, my friends,” Madja told them with a sweet smile. “Let’s get them unwrapped now.”

Barely fifteen minutes later, Azriel and Eris were sitting together in the bathtub, mostly just relaxing. Azriel pulled his hands up out of the lukewarm water (more strict instructions from Madja) to examine them. His old scars… were almost gone. As if burned or melted away. Instead, deep indents remained. His hands felt as if they had lost weight and he couldn’t move his fingers yet, but Madja had told him the muscles still needed time to realize they weren’t melted anymore.

Regardless, it looked odd. The skin was pulled tight. But something felt off about them.

Eris put a hand on his wrists to put his hands back in the water and draw his attention. “It’ll just take time,” Eris assured him.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of burns this bad,” Azriel admitted.

“I have,” Eris said. “Normally it took a few years, but they did eventually heal if they survived the initial burning.”

Azriel hummed. “Guess you’ll be doing the paperwork for a while,” he joked.

Eris scoffed, smiling. “Indeed I will,” he agreed.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

A/N: hope you enjoyed (and cried at least once because I SOBBED while writing this)

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

[evermorehaikyuu]

It’s Nothing Special

MASTERLIST

BREAKING NEWS | WHITE WALLS | AU CONTRAIRE

~

She was supposed to be out by now. The news that Y/N had been in the hospital or in some sort of ward were seen as rumors, albeit some people insisting that it was true. 

The rumors had spiraled out of control to the point where Tsukishima didn’t know anything. If he texted any other members of her team, they all said the same thing: I don’t know. He found it ridiculous that they didn’t know, but he had a feeling that they were hiding her status from him. To make sure he didn’t get his hopes up or because of something happening? Either way, he just wanted to know if she was okay. 

Even Semi and Tendou avoided telling him anything. Tendou and Semi constantly looked pale whenever he asked and they quickly changed the topic. It didn’t help either that they were constantly worried. 

No matter how much his own team tried to cheer him up, that lingering doubt still stayed in the back of his head: Will she come back to normal? After the little bit of news that Yuki was the Unknown Address, he could tell the entire experience was traumatizing. Who in the world would try to murder their best friend because they got everything that they wanted? You’d think they’d find another way to unleash their anger and to go so far so as to threaten innocent people’s lives...Yuki was definitely not sane. They should’ve found out earlier. He should’ve done something to try and protect her, but then again what could he have done? Tsukishima’s thoughts were too conflicting and lying down in bed didn’t help.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting in her new place, frowning. She was trying to sort out everything that happened in the last week. Thanks to the amount of rumors swirling around, no one would blame her for staying out of the face of the public for a while. She took that time to try and see what she could gather. 

Yuki was the Unknown, that much she knew. But how long had Yuki harbored those feelings? And why did he decide to work with her? Why would he threaten innocent people? What was in it for him?

Too many questions with no answers at all. Perhaps that was the reason why she could feel Yuki slipping away since the start of the meeting with Karasuno. His jealousy was too much to the point where he had even tried to kill her. She shouldn’t have forgiven him and even so, she was furious with him. He did not have any logic in his plan for one. Two, it was utterly ridiculous. Here she was, a sitting duck, all because doctors thought that she was going slightly insane. Maybe she was a little shaken, but to go ahead and treat her like someone in a ward, that’s what made her frustrated. That was Yuki’s fault. 

Someone knocked at the front door and when it opened, Y/N tensed. Even though she knew she had given a copy of the key to Suki, it didn’t help that she was now more paranoid than before. When the girl walked in with freshly dyed hair, she was followed by the rest of Y/N’s team. Suki said, “This place is messier than what I expected.”

“Can you blame me?” Y/N sighed. She knew the place was messy but she couldn’t find the time (nor the willpower) to actually clean everything up. 

“Not really.” Hikari said when he walked in, holding a bag of things Y/N didn’t recognize. “It’s crazy, to think that Yuki would do something like that. I never expected it.”

Yukie and Kaori walked in next, holding bags of food. Yukie said, “Sakura couldn’t come. She has to study for some finals she said, but she really wanted to be here.”

“Are we sure she isn’t actually scared?” Y/N joked bitterly. Those rumors had gotten to her own team. She genuinely wanted to deck Yuki now. 

Her managers didn’t comment on anything and they instead got to work as Suki requested. The house before her morphed into what seemed like a butterfly transformation. All of the empty mugs everywhere were whisked into the kitchen, the lingering smell of someone who had lived there but didn’t care started fading away, the newspapers giving any idea of what happened to Yuki were discarded, the chips of glass from when she had broken a plate in fury as well as several others got swept, and soon enough, the house finally looked livable. 

Hikari sat across from her, handing her a mug of her favorite hot drink. Y/N mumbled a thank you, but she already expected what their questions were going to be. After all, she hadn’t answered their calls for weeks and in her fit of rage, she’d broken it. Luckily, it wasn’t an expensive phone but it just went to show how furious she was that no one commented on her not picking up calls or answering messages. 

Yuki had brought out a side of Y/N that nobody thought was there and it was in the worst way possible. 

Taking a deep breath, the light haired boy across from her asked, “Are you comfortable with us asking you questions and telling you things?”

With a sip of her drink, Y/N thought about it. It seemed like an eternity since she’d seen her friends and now she was just tired. She wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep for a good week or so. It was nice that Hikari was asking though. Knowing his job, it might’ve been inspiration for something or other. 

It seemed like Hikari read her mind then. “I won’t take it as inspiration. I’m not that cruel. I know what you’ve gone through, I just want your consent to ask if this is okay.”

The other three girls arrived in the living room, taking respective seats and all eyes were on Y/N. There was just a shadow of a doubt crossing her face before she responded. “Okay.”

“Yuki was incarcerated after we got to the scene. He claims that he was trying to kill you and even though he said that he’d leave Karasuno alone, he said he wouldn’t. He wanted to save Tsukishima last to savor his look of pain once he admitted that he had killed you. The reason why he wanted to do so was because he was jealous of you. Everything you had, he believed it was because of him. There’s an investigation going on about your parents because he had said something suspicious about it.”

Y/N frowned. This was adding up, but in a way she didn’t want to admit. “Yuki had something to do with my parents?”

“Not him exactly. As I said, there’s an investigation going on. Along with that, they’re going to find your real name and you can decide whether to take it back or keep your stage name.”

“I’ll keep my stage name, thanks.” It was supposed to come out jokingly, yet it seemed like the past month or so had deeply scarred her. She had one coherent thought come out of her. Tsukishima. “Is Tsukishima okay?”

“I can answer this.” Kaori said, plucking out a snack from Yukie’s hands. “He’s been severely worried about you and calling us all. However, Semi had said not to tell him anything about you because he knew how you were.”

“Ah yes, the cameras, I’ve been waving at them the entire time.” That was a lie, she’d been cursing out Semi and Yuki the entire time, making vulgar gestures at the camera when she was bored. 

Kaori knew this because when Sakura had watched the footage, she always reported that. It had made her laugh then but at the sight of the broken girl before her, it didn’t seem as funny. “Tsukishima is still worried about you and he really wants to see you soon. Let’s just say that he’s also been driving his company insane because he refuses to cooperate until he knows you’re okay.”

Y/N’s heart raced against its own will. She could still remember the conversations she had had with him and how he had been able to make her smile easily. Karasuno had told her that he completely changed when they were talking and he was even excited nowadays if he knew that she’d be somewhere. He refused to always say anything about them both, but Y/N knew that he was just someone that didn’t talk openly about private things. It was clear in their messages, now that she thought about it. It was clear how much they cared about one another. After all, would she have done what she did for anyone else? She’d like to think so, but honestly, it depended. At least it was Tsukishima and not anyone else. She didn’t want to think about that. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s why Karasuno has been on break for about a week or so now. Trust me when I say that we’ve had to blackmail so many news outlets to stop talking about both of you. But they still do.” Kaori shrugged before sighing. “This entire thing has caused a lot of chaos.”

It was true. She could see it from the bags under their eyes and how tired they were. A flare of love and admiration for these four came up from within her. They had signed a contract to work with her but she saw them as her best friends. All of this work to make sure that her privacy was ensured. Even Suki, who appeared to loathe Tsukishima, had worked to try and let him down gently. 

Suki had chosen that moment to speak, in a voice that Y/N had never heard from her before. It was much more gentle and soft. “I think it’s best if you talk to him at some point.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked at her. “Have you gotten past the enemy stage?”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say that if he makes you happy, I can deal.”

Yukie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to see him soon?”

Y/N nodded. With that action of assent, Yukie grinned. “Good, because lover boy texted immediately. Come on. We’ll go to his company. Let’s get you ready.”

~

On the way to the company, Y/N could not stop moving. There was only the thought of what she would say to him. What could she say after this entire ordeal? Hi, I’m back, I missed you and it turns out I have genuine like like feelings for you but Yuki messed it all up--Yeah, scratch that, that was definitely not going to be something he’d tell him. 

“Now you’re making me nervous and I’m not doing anything,” Suki joked, but the bitter tone behind it threw Y/N off. 

“You okay?” Y/N knew her best friend like the back of her hand and something was up. “Is it Tsukishima?”

“Actually, no. It’s nothing really.” Suki looked at her sadly and shrugged. “All I’m wondering is why he did it until now. Looking at it from his point of view, don’t you think that he would’ve been smart to figure it all out earlier? What I’m saying is why now? What caused him to do something like that?”

Y/N had thought about that countless times. Considering the amount of openings she had had, it was just a wonder that he didn’t attack her from the start. Maybe she could go and talk to him or have someone else do so. But something wasn’t out in the open yet and she wanted to know. 

Once they were at the familiar building, Y/N stepped out, staring up at it. “Is it too late now to go back?” She could feel the bile rising up her throat, nervousness infiltrating every part of her being. Maybe this was a worse idea than what she had thought.

“It’s just him, Y/N,” Kaori said gently, leading the group. They had gotten on an elevator to go to the very last floor.

Meanwhile, Tsukishima was pacing in that floor in the dance room. Yamaguchi, Kageyama and Hinata watched him curiously. Here the most monotone of the group was, extraordinarily worried for someone that shouldn’t have concerned him as much as it did. But as much as he denied it, those feelings were just feelings of love. Had he come to terms with them? Who knew?

Tsukishima looked up at the door for the umpteenth time today as if expecting Y/N to walk through or create a bigger possibility of her finally arriving. To his shock, the door opened and this time it wasn’t the others. It was Y/N’s managers as well as Hikari and Suki. 

Yukie said, “All right, clear out, let’s give them some privacy.” 

The other three started complaining, giving retorts as to why they should stay until Yukie grabbed Yamaguchi’s wrist, Kaori coaxed Hinata out of the door and Hikari made Kageyama follow him out. Suki went over to Tsukishima, her arms crossed as the door closed. 

“Let me just warn you: she’s not the same. She’s changed. The girl still likes you though. Take care of her for me, got it?” With those words, Suki opened the door to show Y/N standing there. 

But it didn’t seem like her anymore. The misery in her eyes was still there. Her posture was no longer like before, it seemed like she was shrinking back. It was clear from her trembling hands too that she didn’t know whether it was right to go in or not. 

Tsukishima had wide eyes and when she walked to him, he didn’t think, he just acted. Pulling her in for a tight hug, he buried his face in her shoulder. “Thank God.”

“Hey, Tsukki.” Her voice was softer than before, almost inaudible as she hugged him back just as tightly. “I miss--” Her voice broke and Tsukishima could sense her on the verge of tears. He turned out to be right and at the sound of her crying, he felt like he’d cry along with her. If he’d ever get the chance, he’d have a long talk with Yuki at least for turning her into the girl before him. 

When she had calmed down, he led her away to the wall and made her sit next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She was fiddling with her fingers, clearly thinking about what to tell him. Looking at the wall across from him, he decided to wait patiently until she was ready. It didn’t take long. After five minutes of silence, Y/N spoke up. “Yuki came after me. He wanted what I had for himself. I think the prospect of both of us collaborating was something he hated because it’d make us--well, me--rise to the top. He believed that he deserved that position more than you. That’s...basically it.”

The blond frowned. Yuki just wanted what Y/N had? Why did he stick by her though? “You don’t think that he actually, you know...”

“What, liked me as more than a friend?” Y/N scoffed. “They thought it was a possibility. I don’t know. I don’t really care.” However the way she spat out those words made it clear that she didn’t know what to think. “Not after what he did.”

These were the occasions where he knew immediately what to do next or maybe even have taken Tanaka and Noya’s advice. Now he was slightly lost. Scratch that, more than slightly lost. Instead, he let her lean against his shoulder for a while and it was quiet again. It was peaceful until he decided to speak up. “Have you eaten yet? I think we should go to this place I think you’d like.”

Y/N knew that he was trying his hardest to make her feel better so with a smile, she nodded against him. “Okay. Let’s go then.”

Neither of them wanted to stay in the past but the only way to go forward was dealing with it. They’d both be fine together and they knew that they’d be able to help each other out whenever it started to get bad. 

~

Hmmm its almost done literally that’s so sad

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[honey-dewey]

We Can’t all be Sunshine and Rainbows

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Reader

Word Count: 2,344

Warnings: No big ones. Implied torture and feelings of depression and PTSD. 

Marcus had never seen anyone as powerful as you. With emotions that literally controlled the weather, you were basically a God. But power of that magnitude attracts many kinds of people, and sometimes, you must rely on yourself as much as you rely on the calming voice of Marcus Moreno

Author’s Notes: I don’t usually do an A/N but I want to give credit to the lovely @anetteaneta for their story ‘Weatherwoman’ which inspired the Reader’s power in this story! Go check it out, because it was a very good story. 

“You doing okay?” 

You looked up, sighing as the weather noticeably warmed. Marcus always made the temperature rise, but he never seemed to mind. In fact, he found it funny. 

“Yeah,” you said, flipping a page in your book. “Just thinking.” 

Marcus smiled, settling on the grass next to you. “Your thinking is making it very cold out here. What’s wrong?” 

You closed your book. “This was mom’s favorite book.” 

“Oh.” Marcus shuffled closer to you, so that his thigh was pressed to yours. He could still remember finding you, alone and scared, in the wreckage of your parents house. You’d gotten into an argument with them over something small, and your powers had ignited in that moment, setting the entire house ablaze. He’d been the one to lift you from the smoking remains and bandage your slightly singed hands. Aside from being shaken, you were completely fine. 

The lasting emotional damage had been bad. You’d never learned to control your power, so the city’s weather depended entirely on your mood. Marcus continued to insist you needed to take control and make your power your own, but fear kept you from ever trying. The last time you’d used your power on a scale as large as Marcus was talking about, you’d killed two people and turned your childhood home to ash. But he never pushed, only reminded you he was there for when you were ready to try. 

Now, three years after the accident, you and Marcus were partners, both in a relationship and in hero work. He was your rock, grounding you whenever your emotions got the better of you. He’d prevented many devastating hurricanes and actually jumped into a tornado you had caused so he could calm you down. In return, you gave him sunshine and happiness, rekindling his love and providing him a reason to fight as hard as he did. 

“Is there anything you need?” Marcus asked, nudging your side. 

You shook your head. “Not anything you could get me,” you murmured, resting your head against his shoulder. 

You two stayed like that, enjoying each other in the simplest way, until the sun began to turn Marcus’s skin red. When that happened, you kissed his nose, leaving the tiniest bit of sunburn behind. 

He laughed, standing and helping you up. “The weather is perfect,” he said, putting his arm around you. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I do try.” 

You two ended up in the local park, hand in hand. Heroics headquarters stood high in the background, reminding you of the ever looming responsibility Marcus had on his shoulders. The weather remained nice, sunny and a perfect temperature for a walk. 

“How’s Missy?” You asked eventually, after bouncing from topic to topic. 

“Good!” Marcus said happily. “She’s a natural leader.” 

You smiled. “I wonder where she gets that from.”

Marcus laughed. Before he could say anything, however, his watch beeped. “Crap.” 

“Work?” 

“Work.” Marcus took his jacket off and put it across your shoulders. “Keep this safe for me, okay?” 

You nodded, drawing the worn leather tighter around you. “You better come back for it!” 

Marcus began to jog across the park, turning back to smile at you. “I always do!” 

As he ran off, you sighed, turning away and heading back to Marcus’s house. It wasn’t too far, and the weather would remain nice as long as you stayed calm. 

Of course, the sun can’t last forever. 

You got home, seeing Missy already there. “That bad, huh?” You asked, grabbing a glass of milk. 

Missy shrugged. “They wouldn’t tell me.” 

“Well that’s a load of crap,” you said, sitting at the table next to her. “Let’s see if we can’t see him on the news.” 

Missy perked up, following you into the living room and turning on the TV. A bunch of reporters were already covering the attack, and you eagerly nudged Missy. “There he is.” 

As the fighting continued, you grew more and more worried that this wouldn’t go well. Marcus was getting visibly tired, protecting an unconscious Ms. Vox. The faceless enemies piled up around him, staining the ground red. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your thigh that you realized what was happening outside. 

The sky was dark, a deep blue-purple grey that scared you so much lightning began to flash in the sky, splitting the nightmare clouds and making you jump. 

“You need to calm down,” Missy murmured, crawling into your lap and taking your hands. You breathed with her, feeling her back expand against your chest. Eventually, the sky settled at a gentler grey overcast, a light rainfall hitting the ground as Missy turned the TV off. 

“He’ll be fine,” she promised, scooting next to you and pushing herself into you. “He always is.” 

He was not. 

A heroics agent came to the house within the hour, solemnly telling you that Marcus had been kidnapped. His location was unknown, and the agent handed a shocked Missy Marcus’s shattered watch. 

As soon as the agent gave you two the information, the rain heavily increased until it was pouring. There was no thunder, just a dismally grey sky and a steady downpour. Missy walked over to the kitchen counter, gently placing the ruined watch down next to a photo of the three of you, smiling and happy on a beautiful sunny day. 

Four days of straight, nonstop rain later, you were slowly rolling a pen across Marcus’s desk in Heroic headquarters. Miracle Guy and Tech-No were with you, keeping you and Missy, who was sitting in the corner of the office and doing her homework, safe. However, nothing was really happening, so having them there was pointless. 

Pointless until a beeping startled you, sending a split second of hail across the window. 

“That was me.” Tech-No checked his watch, standing abruptly and gesturing Miracle Guy to his feet. “They found him.” 

“Found who?” You asked, also standing. “Marcus?” 

Miracle Guy hesitated by the door, looking between you and Missy. “Missy, get the kids and meet me on the bus in five minutes.” 

You followed after Miracle Guy, your anxiety making the winds outside pick up. “Hey!” You shouted, but he didn’t turn. No one did. “What’s going on?” 

Missy and the other kids raced over to the bus, Tech-No ushering them on. You tried to follow, but Miracle Guy refused to let you pass. 

“I promised Marcus I’d keep you safe,” he yelled over the wind. “That means you’re staying here.” 

“If they don’t go, I don’t go,” Missy countered, stepping off the bus and standing beside you. 

Miracle Guy faltered. “Missy.” 

Missy stood her ground, glaring at the Heroics until they let you on the bus. 

The ride to wherever you were going was silent, all other noise being drowned by the rain, which only got worse as the bus got further and further from headquarters. 

“Marcus is in the second building on the left,” Miracle Guy said once the bus began to slow. “Missy, you take the kids and secure the surrounding area. We’ll go in teams of two, staggered by a few minutes. Once he’s been retrieved, take him to the ambulance. We don’t know what his current condition is, so be prepared for anything.” 

“What about me?” You asked, hesitantly standing. 

Miracle Guy pointed to the ambulance that had pulled up beside the bus. “Stay here. If we get him out, he’ll want a familiar face. Try and stay calm. The last thing we need right now is a hurricane.” 

You nodded, grabbing an umbrella and setting yourself up under the small tent next to the ambulance. 

The wait was agonizing, but you managed to calm your nerves until the wind was just a slight breeze. The kids got the surrounding buildings secured, flushing out a bunch of low level villains. The police arrested them all, and Missy joined you under the tent. 

“Anything?” She asked. All the Heroics had gone in, and yet, none had returned. 

“No.” You fidgeted with the umbrella handle, your anxiety making the air cold. “Nothing yet.” 

Just as you spoke, Ms. Vox stumbled out of the building, supported by Blinding Fast. Two paramedics rushed over, helping them under the tent and calling for more ambulances. 

“What’s going on?” Missy asked, looking worriedly at Ms. Vox’s injuries. 

She shook her head. “They aren’t very strong,” she said softly, her voice incredibly scratched. “Or organized but there are so many of them. I think Tech-No found Marcus, but couldn’t do much. Lavagirl is out cold, and last I saw of Sharkboy, he was trying to help her. I don’t think they’re doing okay.” 

Missy bit her lip, looking back at the building. “We’re going in.” 

You hesitated. “Who are you taking?” 

She turned to look at you, genuine fear in her eyes. “You.” 

“What?” 

Missy took your hand. “We’ve got this,” she promised. “For Dad.” 

You nodded, the rain lightening substantially. “For Marcus.” 

The two of you raced into the building, followed by Missy’s team. She began shouting directions, sending the kids off in various directions. By the time she was done, it was you, her, Wild Card, and Guppy racing up stairs and down halls. 

In the end, you and Missy reached a door that had been smashed in, Tech-No unconscious just outside the doorway. Missy propped him up on the wall and gestured Guppy over. “Think you can take him downstairs?” 

Guppy nodded, lifting Tech-No easily and carrying him off towards the waiting ambulances. 

Missy gestured Wild Card into the room first, and he immediately began to take out villains. You slipped into the room behind him, trying to keep your bearings beyond the muddled mix of emotions brewing in your chest. 

You spotted Marcus laying, unconscious, in a cage, his body smeared with blood. You gasped, feeling the anger and fear turn your vision dark. 

Missy slipped behind you, pressing a hand to your arm. “Stay calm.” 

“Forget calm,” you growled lowly, looking at her, crouched down beside you. “Get Wild Card out of here. Evacuate the building as best you can. Get everyone away from the area and into sturdy buildings as far away as you can.” 

“What are you going to do?” Missy asked, clearly nervous. 

You balled your fists. “I’m getting your father out of here.” 

Missy left, grabbing Wild Card and going, yelling down the halls to get out. You rushed the remaining villains, the rain getting heavier and heavier as you fought, using the minimal fight training you had. 

Finally, the villains were all out, piled on the floor in limp heaps. You quickly opened the cage and pulled Marcus out, dragging him to the middle of the room. If this didn’t work, it would kill everyone. If it did, it could be your saving grace. 

You sat on the floor, pulling Marcus into your lap. His eyes opened slightly, one of them swollen and bruised. “Babe?” 

“Hush,” you whispered, cradling him with one hand and raising the other to the circular window in the ceiling. The rain pounded, and you concentrated on the feeling behind it, focusing on the soreness in your body until the rain turned to hail. The hail grew in size until it shattered the window, baseball sized chunks of ice hitting the floor, avoiding you and Marcus. 

You kept your hand raised, feeling it burn, the white hot fire racing down your arm as you poured anger into your heart, the red hot emotions mixing with the pain in your body until you were screaming, summoning a huge bolt of lightning to strike the building. 

When you opened your eyes again, it was to sirens and the smell of smoke. You cracked an eye, seeing charred rubble all around you. Sunlight filtered down, warming your face as you collapsed against Marcus. He was limp as well, and you were both supporting each other. 

“You did it,” Marcus murmured into your heat from where his chin was resting against your shoulder. “You turned your power into your own.” 

You smiled, using the last of your strength to grip his shirt. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, okay? I was so worried.” 

Marcus chuckled weakly. “I’ll try not to get kidnapped again,” he promised. 

The rescue team found you a few minutes later, lifting you both from the smoking remains of the building. Missy hugged both of you, crying her eyes out and insisting on riding in the ambulance with you. Aside from being shocked and a bit dazed, you were okay, slumped against the ambulance wall as you watched a paramedic stitch up a wound on Marcus’s arm. 

Two days later, the sun was shining and the weather was warm as Marcus was discharged from the hospital. Heroics had given him a vacation, letting him recover in the safety of his own home for a month. Missy was off from school for a week, using her time off to relax and forget what had just befallen you. 

“Weather’s nice,” Marcus commented happily as you two walked through his house and into the backyard. 

You smiled, sitting next to him in the grass. “The forecast all week is supposed to be sunshine,” you murmured. 

Marcus nodded, leaning his head onto yours. “Y’know, I knew exactly when you got the news,” he said softly. “The rain was so loud.” 

“I’m sorry.” You picked at a loose thread on your shirt, anxiety making clouds roll across the sun. 

“No,” Marcus insisted, taking your hands. “I knew it meant you were missing me. And that you’d come for me.” 

You smiled, the sun beginning to shine bright again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Marcus said. “And by the way, do you still have my jacket?” 

You laughed, the weather warming. “It’s in the house,” you said happily. “Didn’t want to ruin it.” 

Marcus smiled. “You’re the best.” 

You leaned into his chest, looking up at the sky. It was picture perfect, with a few scattered clouds and a bright sun to warm everything. “I know.”

[backtothestart02]

Just Best Friends - 2/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: So...I completely took out the Mardon side plot and everything Harrison Wells-related that was suspicious in 1x15. I'm all here for just the relationship dynamics and messy westallen. Enjoy! FYI: Most of this chap is just scenes from the ep expanded upon, so I hope you don't mind that. Happy reading!

...

Chapter 2 -

Eddie didn’t come home till late that night. Really late. Iris had gone to bed even, but the sound of him opening the door, his key in the lock, woke her from the in-and-out sleep she’d been experiencing. She expected him to come in and check on her, see if she was up, maybe tell her about his night and what had all gone on, if Barry had been of any help. She was sure he had. Maybe Eddie wouldn’t tell her that though. She had a gut feeling he wouldn’t.

At any rate, she expected him to at least come in the bedroom and say something.

He didn’t even try though. That’s when she knew that somehow she’d screwed up. He couldn’t just be tired. She heard him grab a beer from the fridge and collapse on the couch. She waited for him to come in to see her, but it never happened. She heard him sigh as he stretched out on the couch and kicked off his shoes.

She frowned and laid her head back on the pillow and waited. She waited a long time, long enough for her to get genuinely tired again and fall asleep.

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

There was no note, no breakfast even, nothing. She had definitely screwed up, and they needed to have a discussion pronto.

She went to work as usual, eyed Linda across the room and wondered if they would be as at odds as she and Eddie were. She focused as best she could on her work and made a point to head over to CCPD on her lunch break.

She found her dad, Barry, and Eddie all standing together. She easily hugged her dad and snuck in a nugget about wanting something to report about, but Eddie made a bee line for his desk as soon as she did, and she knew this couldn’t wait any longer. They had to talk.

Her dad and Barry made their exit, and she went straight to Eddie’s desk. Serious face on, reporter face even.

“Hey, ever since last night you’ve barely said a peep.” She took a seat on the side of his desk. “What is going on?”

“I didn’t like the way I felt watching you and Barry last night.”

At first she thought he was joking, and she cracked a grin…until it became obvious he wasn’t.

“Eddie, Barry, he’s just-”

“Like family.” He leaned forward. “I know.” He stood up. “And I know you two have a long history that predates me, but Iris, we live together. You’re my girlfriend, and someday hopefully, you’ll be more. I don’t like feeling like the odd man out every time you and Barry are together. I shouldn’t have to.”

“Eddie, Barry is always gonna be a part of my life.”

“I get that. But something’s changed between you two.”

I love you, Iris flashed before her eyes. Christmas. A confession that took her offguard. That still had her shaken to this day.

“Whatever that is,” he continued. “I am not okay with it.”

He moved past her, not attempting another word.

She sat there for a while, contemplating what he’d said and what it meant. Was he right? Had something changed between her and Barry? Did it have something to do with Barry’s confession? That had been weeks, if not months ago. It couldn’t still be affecting her like this. It shouldn’t. It wouldn’t.

She was determined to not let it. She could help whether it did or not…right?

Shaking the conversation off, she moved to leave the station. With her dad and Barry gone, along with Eddie, she had no intel for her stories and no one to eat lunch with. She might as well head back to CCPN and work through lunch. She could always snack on some food later after she’d made genuine progress.

Though how she was going to make things up to Eddie was still up in the air.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she stepped into the elevator and rode it down to the ground floor. Then she swiftly stepped outside and headed back to Central City Picture News. One thing she could focus on was work. There was nothing she could do about Eddie right now.

…

In the car during their lunch break, Barry felt a feeling gnawing at him. Guilt? Angst? Depression? Elation? He didn’t know, but he knew he had to talk to someone about it, and with Iris the center of his thoughts, he knew Joe was his only option. His only nearby option at the moment at least. And really his best option if the past had proved anything.

“Food was good, Bear, thanks for that,” Joe said, oblivious as to what was on Barry’s mind.

“Yeah, no problem. Felt like…time.”

Joe smiled and nodded.

Barry wrapped his hand around the back of his head as they walked and Joe immediately shot him a glare, which Barry neglected to notice.

“What is it?” Joe drawled.

“What?” Barry asked, immediately letting his arm fall to his side. “Nothing. It’s…nothing.”

“Come on, Bear, it’s me. I know you’re in love with Iris. I know…” he lowered his voice. “You’re the Flash. You can talk to me.”

And he knew he could. He’d been planning on it. He was just nervous about what his answers or advice would be. He was nervous about the whole situation actually.

“All right,” he said reluctantly. “I could use some advice.”

“Lay it on me.”

“You know, just…relationship stuff.”

“Oh, like, you mean that girl, Linda?” he asked, seemingly knowing exactly what was on his mind.

“No, actually, um…” Things with her were great. As far as he knew. He worried about that for a beat. “Iris,” he clarified. “Things between us have gotten a little…complicated again.”

Joe started to laugh.

“You’re asking your adopted father for advice about being in love with his daughter, who just so happens to be dating his partner.”

Barry looked away, shaking his head. He’d known it would sound worse out loud. He’d known it. But he had to tell somebody!

“I know, I know.”

Joe couldn’t stop laughing.

“Things have gone way past complicated,” he chuckled.

Barry strode on full speed ahead.

“Sometimes me and Iris have these moments.” Flashes of the night before at the bowling alley suddenly appeared before him. Her hand on his face…and then some. “And, when I’m looking into her eyes, it’s hard not to think that she’s feeling the same way I am.”

Joe managed to put away his remaining laughter.

“Look, you already told Iris how you feel, so unless she comes out and says she feels the same way, all you can do is hold on to those moments.”

It wasn’t anything that he hadn’t expected, but he still didn’t like that advice.

“Right, yeah, I know.” He hung his head.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“It’s all right, Joe.” He forced a smile. “Really.”

…

At CCPN, Iris was in the middle of a report when she felt her eyes start to droop. She was badly in need of some caffeine. Luckily, the station kept some tanks on stock at all times. She got up and headed straight for them on the opposite side of the room.

There was someone else there. She didn’t recognize who it was at first, then it hit her like a sledgehammer, and she felt dread well up inside her.

“Linda.” Trying to push past the nasty feeling, she scrambled for something to say. “Last night was…fun.” Though based off the girl’s current reaction and Eddie’s earlier, she was starting to think only she and Barry had thought so.

“Mhmm,” Linda said, noncommittally.

“Oh, yeah.” She moved aside as Linda gestured to wanting something on the other end of the table she was unintentionally blocking. “Look, I just wanted to apologize…”

Linda raised her eyebrows in ironic amusement. Iris didn’t see it.

“Apologize…?” She let the question hang.

Damn, she was really going to make this hard, Iris thought. She braced herself for what would come next.

“Well, for interrupting your date with Barry.”

That was a safe apology…right?

“I…I shouldn’t have done that, and…I’m sorry.”

Linda shook her head in disbelief, the possessiveness she’d felt the night before taking hold again.

“You know, Iris, when you told me that Barry had feelings for you, I thought it was just the typical weird crap that women do to each other.”

Iris couldn’t find a response to that. It had been the truth.

“But last night I realized…what you didn’t tell me and what’s kind of irritating is that you have feelings for him too.”

She was quick to deny it.

“N-No, Linda, I mean, it’s not like that.”

Linda could not be dissuaded, however.

“One thing you’ll hear about people when you work here, Iris. It’s usually what isn’t said that’s the real story.”

Linda walked away from her, not even really a glance back as she returned to her desk. Guilt weighed heavy on Iris, as did frustration. First Eddie and now Linda? Maybe she should talk to Barry. Maybe he could clear all of this up for her. She couldn’t be the only one who didn’t see what their significant others were seeing. She and Barry had just acted…well, like them.

Right?

…

When Iris called later that afternoon, Barry had picked it up immediately. He was off work now, and besides, it was Iris. When she asked to meet him, he got even more excited. She sounded concerned on the phone, and he knew that should worry him, but for some reason it didn’t. He was just looking forward to the meeting, to her having reached out. Up until recently they hadn’t seen much of each other, so it was nice…for once.

They saw each other outside of Jitters and raised a hand to acknowledge the other’s presence. They came together and walked inside after their respective greetings, heading straight for the barista in the center of the coffee shop.

Barry leaned against the counter as their orders were made.

“So, it sounded like something was kinda bothering you on the phone. Is everything all right?”

Iris hesitated divulging everything she was feeling but decided to go straight for the plunge.

“Yeah, I mean…the other night was fun, right?”

“Yeah,” he said assuredly. “Did Eddie have a good time?”

“Yeah,” she said instantly, though from their latest conversation she knew it was the farthest thing from the truth. “Linda?”

He shrugged helplessly. He hadn’t talked to her since. He’d kind of forgotten about her until Joe brought her up actually.

“I think so.”

Uneasily, Iris sat down at a high table.

“You don’t think we were too…you know?”

Barry thought back to Iris’ finger in his mouth and her legs splayed across his spread-out ones, and his heart started to race.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. If anything, he wanted more, wish she’d have done more. Would she do more while they were together? Right now? He could barely control his heartbeat.

“Okay, good,” Iris said with a laugh.

God, what he wouldn’t give to bottle up that laughter and keep it forever. It was intoxicating to listen to.

Iris swallowed.

“Actually, no, not good.”

He frowned.

“What…do you mean?”

“Eddie has been skittish since last night. When I talked to him about it today, he…and well, Linda too actually-”

“Linda talked to you?” he asked, and she could hear the nerves in his voice.

“I started the conversation, apologized for interrupting your guys’ date.”

“You didn’t interrupt the date, Iris. Not really. I mean, we were both there. It was a double date. It was fun. It would’ve been more weird if we were right next to each other and not interacting. Trust me.”

She winced.

“Maybe…either way, after talking with Eddie, I felt like I had to apologize. And…”

“What did she say?” he cut in, unable to help himself.

She blew a lock out of her face.

“She thinks I have feelings for you, and she’s pissed about it.”

It took him a minute to respond, then finally…

“Oh.”

“Yeah…obviously it’s not true.”

“Right.”

“It’s just the way we act when we’re together.”

“Of course.”

“Eddie thinks something’s changed. And he doesn’t like it either.”

“I see.”

She caught a glance at him and saw how he wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be unloading on you. I definitely shouldn’t be venting to you about my relationship problems. You were the one who told me you were over me. This is probably really upsetting to you, and irritating. Just like Eddie and Linda.”

She started to get up. Barry was quick to reach for her hand and pull her back to the table.

“Hey, no, Iris, I’m your best friend. If you can’t tell me stuff, who can you tell?”

She looked at him a bit pathetically before biting her bottom lip, fighting for what she definitely shouldn’t be saying right now. She looked down at their hands and rubbed her thumb over his fingers.

“Thanks, Barry.”

His shoulders relaxed.

“Of course.”

“I just don’t know what to do. I love Eddie, and I respect your relationship with Linda. How do I prove to them something that they’re certain isn’t true?”

He shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe just give them time? You don’t work directly with Linda, do you? I could talk with her in the meantime, set things straight.”

“No, I don’t want to ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I haven’t talked to her since last night. I’m sure one romantic night with her will put all of this to bed. Trust me.”

“And with Eddie? I live with him. I can’t just give him space. I refuse to let him sleep on the couch two nights in a row.”

“He slept on the couch last night?”

She nodded.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you that either.”

She put her head in her hands.

“God, I’m a mess.”

“Hey, no, you’re not.”

He rubbed her arms gently and she peeked through her fingers to look at him.

“Okay, maybe you’re a little bit of a mess.”

She scoffed.

“A lot bit,” she amended.

“Nah, def just a little bit.”

She snorted.

As much as he hated to suggest it, he put himself in the best friend shoes and forced the words out of his mouth.

“Why don’t you plan a romantic night with Eddie tonight too?”

She blinked. “Really?”

He nodded, forced a strained, “Yes.” He paused. “I mean, if it works for me and Linda, it should work for you two, right?”

“Right, yeah.”

She gripped both his hands and smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Barry. I really appreciate it.”

He felt gutted, but he only nodded and smiled.

“Of course. Any time.”

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 30: There For Her 

Previous chapters // Montserrat's masterlist

Fandom: SVU // Pairing:  Rafael Barba x OFC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​ @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles @averyhotchner [If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

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Chapter Summary: Things couldn't seem to be going worse for Montserrat. At least she has Rafael with her, though he's struggling at the moment too considering he can't shake off the other woman who won't stop calling him.

Montserrat's presence in the bullpen was immediately question when she walked in that morning. "I mean, you could try saying 'good morning'," her sarcasm seemed to be completely intact. She let her things drop on her desk before giving each of her co-workers a look for their bombardment of questions. "That hasn't gone out of style."

"We just figured you wouldn't show up for a few days," Fin said what everyone else was thinking.

"I want to keep my job and besides...these days where I have been gone...have been way too hard," she took a seat and scooted closer to her desk. "I think a little distraction might be good."

"But is your brother okay, then?" Amanda inquired.

"Calhoun is trying to sort things out with the evidence that Damian supplied her with. Maybe by the end of the day...my brother might be out," Montserrat's small smile was still so full of hope the others wished she was right. "But tell me how's Nick?"

"He's been arraigned," Olivia answered and soon the grimness started spreading to the rest of the squad. "1PP won't budge and none of us have $500,000 lying around."

"The judge seriously posted that as his bail?" Montserrat gaped. "That's outrageous! Not to mention, ridiculous?"

"Yeah, well, they're pinning it on the fact this isn't Nick's first offence," Sonny shook his head. "And Murphy isn't trying to do much for him."

"Hm, so now you're not really liking him either," Montserrat found a moment to smirk.

"He's not letting us help by investigating!" Sonny exclaimed in frustration. "We're just supposed to sit here and continue our work as if our friend isn't in trouble."

"Speaking of work…" Montserrat turned her chair to the others, "Not that I'm moving on from Nick, but...I heard we caught a new case? International vic?"

"Yeah, not really going anywhere though," Amanda bitterly remarked as she opened up her laptop. "Our vic was scammed by a girl and her pimp. Hans Erhard was a tourist from Germany and he answered a Craigslist for a New York girlfriend experience."

"We have both the girl and her pimp in custody but none of them are talking," Olivia shook her head.

"Can I take a crack at it?" Montserrat's question was so volunteering that it really sounded as if she was just her regular self. "I mean, maybe a fresh new detective?"

"Well how about you catch up on it first?" Murphy had walked into the bullpen with a coffee in hand. "Welcome back, detective. How's your brother?"

"As well as he could be in jail," Montserrat sighed and pushed herself up from her desk. "But this case...what do you have for me to review?"

Murphy directed her to their pinboard in the conference area. The good thing about Montserrat was that she really did catch on fast. In thirty minutes she knew exactly what they were dealing: two scammers looking for a quick buck in innocent tourists. Ellie Porter, the girl they'd brought in, was still waiting for a legal aid while her pimp - Little Tino - was already talking with his lawyer to get him out.

While the squad discussed their next plans, a tall dark-haired man in a nice suit walked in. By the briefcase he carried, it was presumed that he was a lawyer, later confirmed when he spoke up. "I'm looking for Ellie Porter. Sorry I'm late. I just caught the case."

"I thought you said you were waiting for her public defender?" Montserrat turned to the rest for some answers.

"We were," Fin answered while keeping his eyes keenly on the new man.

Olivia walked over to him, looking pretty comfortable in his presence but not very happy to see him. "Uh, guys,meet Trevor Langan. He's a, uh, high-priced mouthpiece for lowlifes."

Langan didn't seem the least bit offended by the introduction. In fact, he had something to add on. "And you, once. How soon we forget."

His words instigated some confusion amongst Montserrat, Sonny and Amanda but Fin motioned them not to even ask.

"It's nice to see you, detective," Langan offered a genuine smile at Olivia, leading the newer detectives to conclude he wasn't their typical Buchanan or even Calhoun type of lawyer.

"It's actually sergeant now," Olivia corrected. "So what, you caught a pro bono?"

"Yeah. Do a few of them a year. It keeps me an honest lawyer."

"An oxymoron," Murphy walked out of the office to find the new lawyer.

"Uh, this is our new C.O., Lieutenant Murphy," Olivia introduced.

"Wow. A lot of changes around here," Langan eyed the trio of detectives before giving Murphy a side-glance. Ultimately, he returned his gaze to Olivia with a different type of expression. One could say it was more caring than any other lawyer the squad had seen in the precinct. "And, uh...you, are you doing okay with, uh…everything?"

Olivia gave a nod of her head and made to turn. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

Murphy led Langan away so he could speak with Ellie.

"He's tall," Amanda remarked.

"Yeah, like that's a skill set," Olivia returned to her seat at the conference table.

"And good looking," Montserrat had to add which immediately earned her a disapproving look from Olivia. "Sorry, you two have history or what?"

Olivia humorlessly laughed. "I don't date lawyers."

"Since when?" Amanda then asked which silenced Olivia and left quite a few unanswered questions for Montserrat.

A few hours later, they had Ellie and Tino in lineups for Hans to ID.

"You okay?" Olivia asked Rafael when the ADA strode into bullpen. He'd come to oversee the lineups but he didn't appear to be his regular self.

"What? I'm fine," he said dismissively but the more he tried to be casual the less successful he was.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Montserrat noticed his grim face that also seemed pale for some reason. "I'm the one whose brother's in jail, why are you so upset?"

Rafael wouldn't answer. He looked to the side and all but puffed. It was a strange sight to see him so...shaken, because that's exactly what he looked like right now. His fingers twitched even though they were inside his pockets. His eyes couldn't seem to find a spot to look at for more than a few seconds.

"Get the lineup started," he told (or rather ordered) Olivia after a few pensive seconds.

Olivia blinked and cast a look at the rest of the squad. "Uh, okay…" she rose from her seat and headed for the corridor.

"You sure you good, councilor?" Sonny asked after a few seconds of watching Rafael continue to shift in his spot.

"Yes, now stop pestering me about irrelevant things." Now granted, his snap did sound like himself but his overall appearance was more than enough to think the contrary.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Amanda muttered to the others as she got up.

"For that to happen, he'd actually have to sleep…" Montserrat of course expected a snap for her remark, but it never came. She frowned but before she could point out his lack of participation in their usual go, Olivia returned and announced that the lineup ready to go.

"You sure you're good?" Montserrat still managed to ask before Rafael had to follow after Olivia.

"Yes," he answered in a rushed manner, almost as if the faster he answered the quick they would all just move on from it. Well, Montserrat wasn't going to risk getting yelled at for asking again.

Hand Erhard had arrived a few minutes later, with crutches and a bruised face, and headed directly for the lineup. He recognized Ellie straightaway, but when it came to Tino...it was a miss.

"You need to start seeing Ellie as a victim," Langan trailed after Olivia when the lineup had finished, but the sergeant looked close to throwing him out. "She was pimped out at 16-"

"-she tried to pull a gun on Murphy," Olivia reminded him.

"Yeah, coerced by her pimp!"

Before the argument went further, Montserrat distanced herself due to her ringing phone. "It's Calhoun," she told the others before taking the call. Hope immediately filled her face as she answered Calhoun. Her brother could finally leave that hellhole and return to his normal life. "Tell me when I can pick him up."

But just as hope had filled her in seconds, it vanished in the same speed. If Rafael had been pale before, Montserrat beat him no questions asked. She was as white as a sheet. "What-what do you mean…?" her voice had turned frail, even her body looked as if she was swaying.

The others began to assume what Rita was telling the detective on the other line. But just like that, Montserrat bolted into a run, almost shoving Fin to the side in her run.

"Hey!?" the poor detective was left to call as he stumbled to stay on his feet.

"Something's wrong," Sonny assumed and hurried after Montserrat, prompting the others to do the same.

Montserrat had come back to the conference table where their television was on and scrambled to pick up the remote with one hand while still holding onto her phone in her other hand. She'd turned the television on and flipped to the news channel where an ongoing report was airing.

'The Florence Commercial building that collapsed two days ago has now claimed its first deaths,' the reporter was in the middle of saying, 'Two victims have been reported as deceased after being hospitalized for severe injuries…'

Montserrat fervently shook her head as if that would make it all go away. "What does that mean!?" she demanded from Rita on the phone. While the others couldn't hear Rita's words, they could pretty much assume the situation. By the time Montserrat hung up, she was ready to fall back. And seeing that prompted Sonny to pull up a chair right behind her. She fell back on it with ease, making the others wonder what would've happened if there hadn't been a chair there in the first place.

"They're going to treat this as hom...homicide…" she barely got the wretched word out. It was too disgusting.

"But you said Damian had the evidence…" Sonny said, but Montserrat shrugged in the same confusion he had.

"Everything changes when someone dies," Rafael said quietly. He looked at the others and willed them to remember their own cases and what typically happens when they had a homicide-rape on their hands.

"What the hell am I supposed to do? He's being arraigned this afternoon and then there's going to be a trial date? As if he's an actual criminal?" Montserrat frantically started to ramble. "I've got nothing to help him with. That evidence should've been enough, I…" she shook her head and let a hand cover her quiet sobs. "It should've been enough, it should've..."

The others exchanged looks with each other, all deciding they needed to help her stat. She was right in that the evidence should've been enough to get Gael out, but as Rafael pointed out...things got more complicated once there was murder. Still, it didn't mean it was impossible to prove Gael's innocence.

"Montserrat," Rafael was the one to cut the silence as he moved to Montserrat's chair. He bent down in front of her when she refused to look at anyone. "We can't help you if you don't let us," he said harsher than he would've liked, but then again that's really the only way she'd listen right now.

Montserrat only slightly lowered her hand but it was enough to showcase her reddened eyes. It was honestly a whole other side of her that neither Rafael nor the others had ever seen. "I can't do anything, weren't you listening?"

"Yes, and I think that you did the fatal mistake of listening to yourself," Rafael's counter-argument had her frowning in confusion. "You are a detective. Finding evidence is your job. That's all this is right now: you going back and finding evidence."

"Yeah except I'm usually the one who proves they're guilty," Montserrat sighed a shaky sigh.

"It doesn't mean you'd do your job worse. So listen, everyone here-" Rafael made a gesture at the others keenly watching him, "-is willing to help you but it will not make a difference if you've given up already."

"It's not that I've given up it's that…" Montserrat scrunched her face the more she tried to come up with a perfect way of describing how she felt, but all that came out was an exclaim that sounded more like a child's cry. "Dammit, Rafael, my brother's in jail and I feel like my world is crashing down on me!" Her look of anger on him didn't bother him in the least.

"And being hopeless is going to help you how?" his answer seemed to be upsetting her more.

"Councilor-" Sonny tried to intervene but Rafael pointed a finger for him not to even try interrupting. Sonny retracted his step and looked at the others with an 'I tried' expression.

However, his attempt to intervene did make Rafael realize he wasn't getting this whole 'comfort' thing. It was frustrating, honestly, because he wanted to help Montserrat. He wanted to ease her pain as much as he could but every time he opened his mouth he just made it worse. He'd never been good at that stuff. He never knew what to do.

He looked at Montserrat again, this time forcing any snaps at mind to stay away. She was still giving him that angry expression he was all too familiar with. "What time is he being arraigned?"

"Two o'clock," she answered but the mere reminder of what was to come forced most of the anger to fade from her face. New tears were threatening to roll down her face.

There came a relentless urge to hold her. It took everything he had not to do it. "I'll come with you to arraignment. We'll see exactly what Gael is being charged with and then we can work from there, okay?"

Montserrat nodded her head. "Okay. Will you actually come?"

Rafael smiled and gave her a tilted-head look. "When do I ever joke?" Now it was Montserrat's turn to smile, even if it was just for a second he would take it.

The others felt like they were witnessing something private that they needed to walk away from, but Montserrat unknowingly beat them to it. She pushed herself up from her chair and straightened herself up. She rubbed her face clear of any tears and took in a deep breath. "Okay fine. The Manhattan D.A wants a fight, I'll give them one. Hell, they've never had 2 Novaks and Calhoun all going against them, have they?"

"No," answered Rafael as he, too, straightened on his feet. "And I'd honestly wish them luck, but that wouldn't necessarily be true would it?"

"Listen, Montserrat, why don't you go and see Casey?" Fin suggested and looked back into the hallway where Olivia and Langan were still at. "We'll explain to Liv and Murphy. It's not like they'd say no."

"Honestly I'm a little fearful for the future of my job," Montserrat admitted, but even then it was evident that she would be leaving anyways. "I've been away too much…"

"Hey, we got this," Amanda assured her.

Montserrat agreed with a nod of her head and went to collect her things. It felt ridiculous that she'd just came back to work and was already taking off again but at the same time...her brother needed her. She couldn't be too far away.

"For the rest of you," Rafael looked at the remaining group with an expression akin to irritation, "You've got almost next to nothing on the Hans Erhard rape. One I.D. and it's not even the rapist."

"Are you feeling better now?" Amanda's sarcasm, that included a sarcastic smile, earned herself a glare from the ADA.

"Get something more or the case dies," he left it at that and it was only because he felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. Soon as he took it out and saw the text message on the screen, his face turned pale again and his fingers seemed to start twitching again. He was nervous. "I have to go," he said in a mutter and made a hasty way out.

Can we have lunch today? - Yelina.

As much as he hated to, Rafael responded with a 'yes' because if he continued to say no, and blow her off, she would just come back to her office. Maybe if he had let her talk the night she appeared in his office, he wouldn't be having lunch with her now.

"You look like you've seen a ghost again," Montserrat's voice pulled Rafael's face from his phone. She was waiting for the elevator to arrive. "Which is funny because I've never seen you go that shade of color. Let me in on the secret so I can use it for later." He rolled his eyes but somewhere inside her playfulness alleviated some of his stress.

The elevator dinged and its doors slid open. Montserrat stepped inside first and waited for Rafael to follow before pressing the down button.

"Montserrat, I need to...apologize," Rafael suddenly started. Montserrat's side-glance was one akin to 'the hell are you talking about?' while he went on. "I'm not very good with...comfort words." And even now it was easy to see the struggle for Rafael to even say that. It was amazing yet ridiculous that he wasn't good with words around her, but he could easily have the right words to prosecute low-lives. Montserrat would do that to him a lot, make him question the simplest of actions he would usually take in other situations where she wasn't involved. But for Montserrat right now it was the funniest thing she ever saw on him. "I don't do a lot of comfort. And I know half of what I told you earlier was done in snaps-"

Montserrat had suddenly turned and hugged him. It was a tight hug that she'd been wanting ever since hell started with her brother's arrest, but she hadn't been brave enough to go for it. Right now, she just couldn't be bothered with the process of thinking 'should I or should I not?'. She let her chin rest on his shoulder. "You're doing just fine."

A small smile came to Rafael's face. His arms wrapped around her waist and held her tight. A few seconds later, one of his hands traveled up to her fiery hair and let his fingers stroke through her waves. Her hair was incredibly soft he imagined what it would be like running his hands through the rest of it somewhere else, somewhere nicer and private. You have to stop right there, he berated himself.

If only he knew how much his gentle touch affected her. Montserrat felt a wave of calmness wash over her within seconds of his first stroke. She wanted to him to keep holding her and just hear from him that everything was going to be fine. But she felt the elevator come to a stop, warning the two that the doors would be opening soon.

Montserrat pulled away just enough to where Rafael could still hold onto her. "You'll come to arraignment?" she asked as if she was scared that he had already changed his mind.

Rafael reassured her with a nod. "Of course. I'll be there." He brought a hand to rest on her cheek, and even when the elevator doors, his founds soothed small circles over er skin. "I promise you I'll be there."

A relieved smile spread across Montserrat's face. "Thank you. Really. You really are doing just fine." She turned away and left the elevator first, but the moment she was out her skin where his fingers had been ached for his soft touch.

Okay, maybe she felt a little better…

~0~

Alright. In and out. In and Out. Rafael was as confident as he could be when he took a seat across the woman he'd been avoiding with great difficulty. "Alright, I'm here. Let's get to it."

Yelina was no stranger to dirty looks anymore, not after the scandal that practically tore her family apart. She'd been subjected to doubtful and condescending stares, angry snaps, and the old fashion cold shoulder. But none of that she expected from Rafael. It certainly didn't make her decision to reach out to him seem like the best option, but she had a good motive.

"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," she finally spoke a few minutes, but she noticed Rafael constantly looking around the restaurant as if they were doing something wrong. "I didn't really know what to do…"

"Really? And of all people to talk to, you chose me?"

Yelina tilted her head at him, genuinely looking upset. "Why are you treating me like this?" The choice of her softened tone almost made Rafael do a double-take at her.

"Are you - are you kidding me!?" he snapped on instinct. Not even her flinch made any effect to stop him. Actually, it might have angered him more seeing her try to be so innocent. "Do you not remember what happened? Because you do remember the part where you warned me to back off when they were investigating Alex? I had Alex on the other side going on about me trying to bring him down out of jealousy. So excuse me if I'm a little upset that now you want to act like nothing happened."

"...fair enough," Yelina released a sigh. "I didn't know that was how I came across…"

"Really?" Rafael nearly laughed. "Don't insult my intelligence, Yelina. Now can we get to the reason why you're here? Why I'm here? I have somewhere else to be."

"Please don't be this curt with me," Yelina's softness had disappeared, replaced with a more serious yet sharp expression. It was more like her, honestly. That look Rafael knew well. Whenever she was pissed off, that's the look you got. "It was hard swallowing my pride to call you and I want to believe that despite what happened...we can still be civilized friends."

"I don't know about that, to be honest." In another time, maybe Rafael would actually think about that idea, but for some reason there was no desire to stay in contact. At all. "You tried to manipulate me the last time we saw each other-"

Offense etched across Yelina's face at the accusation. "-I wasn't-"

"-yes, you were." And the worst part was, it hadn't even been him who saw it. He missed it because he - admittedly - had clung to the last bit of friendship he had with her, the last bit of nostalgia he had. Montserrat saw it, Rafael remembered perfectly the way in which he had snapped at Montserrat after she had made the comment. She'd only been looking out for him, like she always did even when he didn't deserve it. But that was Montserrat. She was always there.

"Rafael?" Yelina had been watching him for the minutes he spent in silence. There was a familiar look on his face but she didn't want to think about it too much, at least not now.

Her call did indeed pull Rafael back to the present. Soon as he was back he set for business, whatever that business might be anyways. "Why are we here?"

Yelina bit her tongue so as to not snap at his flat tone. "My husband is facing trial and God knows how many years."

"And? You're not seriously going to ask me to put in a good word for him, are you?"

"...maybe I just wanted to reach out to the only person who's willing to talk to me right now."

Rafael paused and gave her a strange look. "What?"

"You can imagine with all these accusations-"

"-and evidence," Rafael cut in with the truth, even if it did irritate her.

"Not a lot of people want anything to do with us, with me," the woman lowered her gaze. "I had to pull my daughters from their school. They're... they're the target for bullying, for hatred...I don't know what to do."

Dammit. She was being honest. She looked honest. And that's what made it difficult for Rafael to remain stoic. She could be playing tricks but right now she just looked vulnerable. In another time, that would've reeled him right to her. And the fact it didn't have the same effect right now was startling...in a good way though. It almost made him proud.

He felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. While he checked who it was, he was aware of Yelina's hawk-stare.

Arraignment is in half an hour. Will you come? - Montserrat.

"Something important?" There was unmistakable sharpness in Yelina's question, or rather demand, and it kind of irritated him. Where did she get off being that demanding when he was doing her a favor by showing up to this awkward lunch.

"Yes, actually," Rafael sent back a quick 'yes' to Montserrat and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "I need to go."

"We're not done," Yelina shook her head. "You haven't said anything to me except take jabs at my pain. I thought there was at least a shred of kindness you could offer me. Did I dare think too much? Is there nothing you can offer me now?" She reached her hand across the table to touch Rafael's.

The ADA flinched but he didn't pull his hand away. He was, admittedly, taken by surprise.

~0~

Montserrat was biting into her index nail to the point of drawing blood. Twice Casey had yanked Montserrat's hand down and shot her a look not to do it again.

"What are you, 5?" the ADA whisper-hissed. They were waiting in the hallway, just outside the arraignment room.

"I'm 30, stressed, and my brother's going to trial, so I will act anyway I want to!" Montserrat snapped and promptly stuck her nail between her teeth.

Casey groaned and rolled her eyes. She turned away and saw familiar figures coming down the hall towards them. "There's uncle Thomas. Least he's not alone either."

Montserrat followed her direction to see her father and Damian. "Dad," she went to hug him first.

"Hi sweetheart," Thomas hugged her tightly. He couldn't believe they were here. "How are you holding up?"

"Hm, as much as I can be," Montserrat bit her lower lip like it was gum.

"The girls, Juliana and Ivanna-"

"They're at school right now and Kara's picking them up. I'm taking care of them, Dad, I promise."

"I never said you weren't, dear. I just imagine it's difficult with your schedule…"

"I'm taking some time off."

"Again?"

Montserrat felt the underlying insinuation that she'd been missing too much work, but at the same time what was she supposed to do? Work like nothing while her brother faces criminal charges?

"It's fine, uncle Thomas," Casey said as she gave the man a quick hug. "The thing about being a cop and an ADA is that you don't have to explain a lot when you're out. People just think you're doing work."

"Or people think you're recusing yourself," a tall blonde woman appeared behind Thomas and Damian. The two men looked back then retracted the same steps so that the blonde could get through.

Soon as she saw her, Casey glared. "Geraghty," she practically spat the blonde's name out.

"I assume this is the family," Geraghty looked at the rest with icy blue eyes. "Since Casey had to recuse herself from the case due to, um, well…" her thin eyebrows twitched upwards.

"Because we're family," Casey said it just to end the woman's drama.

"Well, I'll be prosecuting the case. ADA Geraghty," she introduced herself but quickly moved into business. "You should know that I am going for reckless endangerment and Manslaughter."

"He's innocent," Montserrat said through gritted teeth, but Geraghty only smiled dismissively.

"I'll see you all in a bit," she moved on from the group and left a terse air behind.

"She seems...lovely…" Damian said quietly but Casey scoffed loudly.

"She's a bitch. And she's been after my job for a while. This is the first time I ever had to recuse myself from a case so of course she nabbed the job the moment she could."

"Casey I'm sorry," Thomas apologized but Casey scoffed again.

"Are you kidding me? Nothing will make me happier than to see her being forced to drop the charges when we prove Gael is innocent."

A short moment later, the doors were open for arraignments. Gael wouldn't be the first one to be brought out, so it left quite some time of waiting. And waiting meant a lot more thinking was done, leading to horrible thoughts.

"Did Calhoun say anything about her strategies?" Montserrat quietly asked Casey during their wait time at the benches. "I haven't been able to get in contact with her today even though I'm pretty sure I bombarded her phone with voicemails."

"Not really, but since we're on her side, it'll be good," Casey said with certainty Montserrat wished she had too.

When Gael's turn was nearing, the group decided to go inside and find a seat. The only reason Montserrat stayed behind was due to Sonny and Liv coming towards her.

"What are you guys doing here?" Montserrat blinked at their presence. "Murphy's going to have a fit when he realizes half of his employees are gone."

"Don't worry, he knows we're just here for the arraignment," Olivia said to ease the woman's concerns.

"And for anything you might need from us," added Sonny.

"Thanks," Montserrat sighed. She looked into the arraignment room with nothing but dread. "I don't know what's going to happen...the ADA is, as Casey put it, a bitch. So good luck to my brother."

"It'll be fine, c'mon," Olivia motioned Montserrat to go in first but Montserrat seemed to want to stay behind a bit longer.

"Do you need a moment?" assumed the Sergeant.

"Yeah, kinda," Montserrat nodded. It was enough to send the two in without more questions. Yes she did need a little break to herself but, if she was being honest, she was also making time.

He's late, she thought after checking the time. But even when she wanted to further fall, she berated herself. He's got things to do. Be glad he even offered to stop by. Montserrat closed her eyes for a moment, at least to calm herself down before she would have to go inside.

"Montserrat?" Rafael called when she turned for the doors. He picked up his pace to get to her on time. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I-I was…" He didn't quite want to finish that sentence for some reason, but thankfully Montserrat was overly relieved with his presence so she didn't question him at all.

"No, no! You're absolutely fine!" she exclaimed.

"We can go in whenever you're ready," Rafael made a gesture for the doors but watched her carefully for her reactions. Who knew, she might go in the opposite direction.

Montserrat took a deep breath and looked at the doors. "I gotta do it. My brother's the one in trouble. I can do this. Course I can. I can…"

When she started rambling on about the same thing, Rafael knew she was in the process of backing out. He couldn't blame her. But he did know that if she actually backed out and missed her brother's arraignment, she would never forgive herself.

"You need to go inside, Montserrat," he said softly. He met her nervous gaze and offered her an encouraging smile, and his hand.

She took his hand in a fast second. Then, with every bit of courage she owned, she led them into the arraignment room. It was just in time because Gael was being led out by one of the officers.

When the hell did Calhoun get in here!? Montserrat wondered, almost mad at herself for missing the woman. That's how absorbed she was in her own problems.

Rafael found them an open seat in the second row when Montserrat paused because her thoughts had gotten to her again. He didn't let her get away, though, and gently ushered her first.

"How does your client plead?" the judge was in the middle of asking when they finally sat down.

"Not guilty, your honor," Calhoun answered before Gael could even open his mouth. He was under strict orders not to talk at all. "The charges are seriously misplaced and when this is all over, Mr. Novak will be filing a lawsuit against 1PP and the DA's office."

"The charges of reckless endangerment and Manslaughter are hardly misplaced," Geraghty shot Calhoun an incredulous glare. But given the line of Calhoun's work, it was nothing more than a petty frown in her opinion.

"Save it for trial," the judge ordered the two women. "How are we on bail, Miss Geraghty?"

Geraghty straightened behind her spot. "Remand, your honor. The defendant has the means to flee what with his outstanding high paying job and double nationality with Slovakia."

"You have double nationality?" Rafael found himself asking Montserrat out of sheer curiosity.

Montserrat shrugged, indicating a 'yes'. "Dad's doing," she whispered. "If you have a parent from Slovakia you're eligible for dual citizenship. You want to go Slovakia some time?"

"Hm, how about we go to Cuba first?" He met her look with a smile and when she realized what they had said, she blushed and looked away.

This is not the time to do this, Montserrat, she berated herself. She forced her attention back on the arraignment and hoped to God Calhoun would come through for them this one time.

Calhoun scoffed at Geraghty's argument. "Oh please. My client is a single father of 2 girls who need him at home, not to mention he has Manhattan's own Homicide ADA Casey Novak and SVU Detective Montserrat Novak vouching for his presence. Believe me, he is not going anywhere."

"They are family," Geraghty shot Casey and Montserrat a specific look, almost accusatory. Montserrat wasn't in any condition to fight back, but Casey glared daggers back at the ADA. "And since they knew how the system works, I think remand is more than appropriate here."

Calhoun almost laughed in the woman's face. She rebutted like she normally would, only this time Montserrat was counting on her to make a damn good rebuttal that would allow her brother to come home today.

Without realizing it, Montserrat gripped Rafael's hand. She was over the top nervous and somewhere along the way, her hand had found his. She wasn't aware of it, but Rafael was. He felt the moment his hand was squeezed - which, honestly, showed she had tremendous strength - and so he did what he felt he should; what he wanted to. When she leaned on him (an attempt to listen better to Geraghty), he was just her rock, her support. He soothingly rubbed his fingers over her hand.

Sonny caught the two's closeness and couldn't help but feel a little proud that some sense had finally been knocked into them. Of course the feeling faltered when he noticed Damian's lingering look on pair. Oh right, it still pained Sonny having to keep that secret all to himself. It felt like a ticking time bomb.

~ 0 ~

"Do you have the money?" Calhoun stood in front of the group after arraignment. It was a win that remand had been discarded, however the bail money was now the issue considering it was a pretty high amount.

"No, but we'll make it work," Thomas looked at his daughter, both knowing they wouldn't have that type of amount between them.

"$50,000 is a pretty insane amount," Montserrat scowled, already mentally going through her back account to see how much she could put up.

"No it isn't," Calhoun gave her a tilted-head look. "You're just on the receiving end this time."

"Hey," Casey warned her not to even go down that road.

Calhoun raised her hands in defence. "I'm going to go find out when the court date but I suggest you don't keep him in there long. If anyone on the inside finds out he's related to an ADA and SVU detective, he's not going to be having fun."

"Maybe go for protective custody, then?" Montserrat's tone went flat, as did her face.

"What else do you think is on my to-do list?" Calhoun rolled her eyes and moved around the trio to leave.

"Are you sure she's going to help us?" Thomas was left asking.

"Don't worry Dad," Montserrat turned to her father with the best warm smile she could put on. "Calhoun is tough. She'll help us."

The trio rejoined the others near the elevator after Calhoun had left them.

"Hey, Calhoun seemed pretty sure of herself," Olivia said. "That's good."

"She's a shark," Rafael chimed in, not really sure if he was giving the woman a compliment or an insult. He wasn't used to having her on their side.

"Which means she'll do the job just fine," went Sonny.

"Now we just gotta focus on the bail money," Montserrat sighed. She dug her hands into her ginger curls, tugging on them. She might lose some hair in these next few weeks.

"Listen," Damian started, "I don't have a lot but I can put up 10 grand for the bail money."

"That's still a lot of money, Damian," Montserrat said. "I don't want you to use it all up on us. I'm sure Gael would agree."

Damien shook his head. "You're taking the money or we're going to argue over it." He gave her a smile that left no room for such arguments.

"Thanks," she hugged him.

"I can put up another 10," Casey said, breaking them apart. "I've not wasted money in a real good time considering I never have time to go out."

"I can put 15k," Thomas added. "Retirement savings. But I can get more, I'm sure. I just have to look more through my finances."

"That's $35,000," Montserrat drew in a deep breath then exhaled. "Maybe I can put up another 10. That'd just leave another 5 grand."

"We can't leave Gael in there for long," Damian said. "Why don't we get together and see if we can come up with the solution today?"

"Sounds good," Thomas agreed then looked at Montserrat.

"Go on, I'll catch up with you guys in a bit," she motioned them to get a head start.

"Thank you for coming," Thomas said to Olivia, Sonny and Rafael before leaving with Casey and Damien.

"He's right, thanks for coming," Montserrat sighed. "I'll report for work tomorrow. I promise."

"That's not necessary. You take your time out until this is solved," Olivia told her. She put a comforting hand on Montserrat's arm, offering one of her momma-bear smile that - admittedly - did make Montserrat feel a bit better. "We've got things at the precinct."

"Thanks," Montserrat said quietly. "Although honestly I don't know how long it'll be."

"Just focus on bail for now," Sonny advised. "Take it one bit at a time."

"I know but I just...I know that Casey, Dad, and Damian are putting up everything they have. Even though I'm going to put up what I have, it's not going to be enough. We're still going to be $5,000 short."

"You heard Carisi, take it one bit at a time," Rafael said. He did what Olivia had earlier and rested a hand on her arm, though Montserrat felt a lot more comfort with his touch than Olivia.

No offence to Olivia…

"Thanks for coming," Montserrat said, though there was a distinct possibility it had been only meant for Rafael this time round.

"Of course," he offered her a small smile, knowing nothing would be alleviating her pain right now. He had to come up with something to help her.

[twstismymuse]

Hello hello!!

First ever post!! Yay!!

This is a little piece I whipped up after getting inspired browsing through pinterest

(Yes i use pinterest they actually have pretty good stuff on there)

Anyways this scenario features my Professor oc, Kathryne Bones ☠️

She’s twisted from Captain Hook and I’ll have more on her soon!

In the meantime, enjoy my pirate queen kicking misogyny right in the dick!!

{Title: A Valuable Lesson}

{Summary: Professor Bones puts a few narrow minded students in their place through a hands on demonstration.}

{Warnings: Misogyny, degrading comments, strong language, objectification}

(Pssst, some character info has been updated here)

—————————————————————

It was supposed to be smooth sailing for her. It had only been a week since Kathryne Bones was recognized as a professor and Geography was added to the curriculum at the esteemed NRC and she couldn’t have been happier. Sure she’d had to push and shove to be able to secure the position of a professor at the college, but the college had only recently begun it’s transformation as a co-ed school and the pure fact that she got the job was a feat in itself as a respected educator. There were doubts about her “qualifications” to be a teacher, but Kathryne was determined to break through those boundaries and prove she could teach a class filled with young boys as good as any man.

Kathryne adored her students and wanted to push them to be the best they could be! Geography was an essential subject, to learn not only about the world they inhabited but the people in Twisted Wonderland as well.

She really thought she would be able to gain their respect.

For the most part, it was adorable seeing the looks on their faces when she walked into the classroom and introduced herself as their new professor.

“Welcome boys! My name is Kathryne Bones and I’ll be your Geography professor. I trust that we’ll be able to get along and you lot won’t feel too put off by me. Savvy?”

“...”

“I’m asking you all if you understand.”

“Ohhhhh…”

The first half of class went swimmingly. Many of the students asked genuinely interesting questions and gave insightful responses. They paid close attention when she pulled up a map of Twisted Wonderland and began pointing out key locations.

“As we can see, the Afterglow Savannah’s absolute location-”

“You should bend over a little more!”

Her metal finger paused and hovered over the labeled country on the map. It took her a moment to fully comprehend what had happened as the sound of snickering and cruel laughter echoed throughout the classroom.

“Or better yet, show us your tits!”

“Doesn’t this school have a dress code? A teacher shouldn’t be walking around in clothes like that, you know.”

“Showing that much skin on the job?”

“Maybe she’s some pirate whore-”

Kathryne kept her back turned toward the chalkboard, yet several students spoke up in her defense.

“Hey, assholes!! The fuck is wrong with you, she’s tryna teach us here!!” A boy with bright red hair and a heart painted on his right eye snarled at the group.

“That is no way to treat a professor, much less a lady!!” A student with slicked back hair and pointed brows barked.

Ace Trappola and Sebek Zigvolt, her brain helpfully offered.

“Come on! What was the school thinking letting a female professor teach at NRC?” One of the ruffians, a Heartslaybul ribbon around his arm, scoffed and reclined in his seat while his friends sniggered. A student with violet hair and soft blue eyes, glared daggers at them and spoke loudly.

“Professor Bones is just trying to do her job, it's very rude to-”

“Please Felmier, in that get up? My dad was right when he said NRC was really going to the dogs-”

“It seems to me, lad, that your father has a rather narrow mindset.”

“Eh?”

Kathryne turned around, a brilliant sickly sweet beam on her face as she moved towards the center of the classroom.

“What did you say about my-”

“I’d like to know what gives you the right to question my authority and not only that, but disrupt my lesson. Is it because you feel the need to say something? Well, the floor is yours now. Do enlighten all of us on what exactly your father has to say about NRC’s reputation.”

The student paused, thrown off guard by the unwanted spotlight suddenly cast on him and the eyes that were watching him and his friends.

He gulped before attempting to maintain his composure, “W-well...he...he said that he didn’t know what the headmaster was thinking, bringing in a woman to teach us-”

“So, just to fully comprehend what you’re saying...your father believes that simply because I am a member of the opposite sex, I’m not able to teach a class filled with males?”

“Well-”

“Look at what you’re wearing though!! What kind of respectable teacher would go around looking like that? It’s distracting! My mother never wears clothes like that!” One of the boy’s friends, an Ingihyde student, came to his aid.

“...I see. Yes, I understand completely!” She clapped her hands together and her eyes sparkled, “Students! I just had the most wonderful idea! Why don’t we try a more hands-on approach~?”

Beckoning the Heartslaybul student forward with her finger she called, “Could you come down here please?”

Confusion and befuddlement visible on everyone’s faces as the young man came forward as instructed.

“Yes, just stand riiiiight there, perfect! Now as for me…” Walking over to the desks, she squeezed past the boys and sat right in the empty seat left by the Heartslaybul student. “Alright, now I want you to go to the board and I want you to pick up my lesson right where we left off, can you do that?”

He hesitantly nodded and turned around to face the wide map. Kathryne nudged one of the male’s friends on her left and gave a sly wink just as the boy started talking.

“Um, well...the Afterglow Savannah is located at uh-”

“Hey, why don’t you bend over a little more? I can’t see your ass all that clearly, sailor.”

He paused while much of the class began snickering under their breaths as the boy’s friends fidgeted in their seats.

“Or better yet, why don’t you just rip your shirt off for me?”

He turned his head slightly, visibly embarrassed and uncomfortable with her cajoling.

“You shouldn’t be walking around with your shirt unbuttoned like that, you’re showing way too much skin during school hours, you know. And your pants are far too tight, I can practically see your bulge through them. I mean really, what were you thinking walking around like that?”

She looked around enthusiastically, yet the male’s friends avoided her eyes, the Ignihyde student scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What’s wrong? You all were so enthusiastic when I was in your mate’s position? Why won’t you join in?”

They remained silent, yet she pressed, “Go on, tell me, I’m listening.”

“...B-because it’s-”

“Uncomfortable? Derogatory? Demeaning? You all seemed like you were having a jolly good time speaking to me that way, objectifying my body and criticizing my outfit though. What changed?”

“Your...sh-shirt…”

“How is my shirt different from his? We’re both showing a bit of skin, yet you feel the need to tell me and not him to cover up?”

“It’s because of...of...”

“Don’t be shy now, I want to hear it.”

“Your...your chest-”

“Ahhhh, I see. Yes, I mustn't let anyone see any hint of the tissue overlying my pectoral muscles. They’re not at all nearly the same in terms of our biology, isn’t that correct?”

“...”

Kathryne carried on as she stood up and made her way back to the floor, “Isn’t it funny how as a matter of fact, Professor Crewel who I know you all hold in great respect, also is fond of wearing form fitting clothes that accentuate his assets yet not one of you seem keen on interrupting his lesson by shouting obscenities at him? What makes my fashion choice different from his? These are the clothes I feel comfortable in, clothes that I feel confident in, yet you lot want to try and bring me down by calling me a whore. I bet you all wouldn’t be so quick to critique me if I told all of you to cover up from head to toe because seeing your uniforms is distracting to me. How would that make you all feel?”

There was no answer, a slight muttering under hushed tones and an uneasy silence filling the air.

“You have no right to tell me what to do with my body and how I decide to dress. You’re all here to learn, not to jack off in the middle of my class to the busty school teacher. I’ll have you know, this is the very same outfit I wore when I commandeered the fiercest crew of buccaneers the seven seas had ever seen. This is the outfit I demanded respect from them in and it will be the outfit you will respect me in. Savvy?”

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Professor Bones.”

“Excellent. Now, let’s get back to the lesson. As for you four…” Her gaze landed on the group, a smirk on her lips seeing how shaken they looked. “I’ll be reporting this behavior to each of your dorm heads as well as the Headmaster and they’ll deal with you properly. I’m not fond of dishing out punishments like Professor Crewel, but I happen to know Heartslaybul in particular is a real stickler for the rules.”

“Let’s see…” She mused, turning her attention back to the map. “Who can tell me the Afterglow Savannah’s absolute location?”

Perhaps her academic career wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought.

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 8 Review/Remix

RWBY finally comes back from a 2 month break, and what does it do? It scares us all half to death and then obliterates the other half with insane new story concepts and body horror imagery. Gods I missed this show~...

We return to this chaotic mess with the scene you might be expecting the least, Qrow and Robyn in their prison cells. Qrow is awoken by the sound of ships and explosions outside, and find that his three block mates are similarly left sleepless. Jacques is particularly nervous, probably because he assumed Whitley would be here to bail him out by now. Qrow picks up on an incoming sound that sounds... different, and indeed a wall is blown down in a fiery explosions that starts sending down rubble. One section of the Hard Light cell walls have been taken down, but before anyone has time to act Robyn notices a crow vehemently cawing at her before some rubble comes down above her. And... that’s the last we see of Robyn or Qrow this episode. He transformed to be a smaller target for debris and she might not have made it out quickly enough even with his disguised possible warnings.

Back to more pressing matters, we take the perspective of... the Dragonborn in the opening of Skyrim?? Wait, no, it’s just Nora regaining consciousness to see Klein has given her an IV and is saying she’ll be on the mend real quick. So that’s some good news after a few months of worry, and hey! The fan theory was wrong, she didn’t go blind from the lightning! Before we can even dwell on her wellbeing for too long, Blake opens the door for Ruby Weiss and Whitley to carry in Penny’s unconscious body. As Blake points out, Penny is leaking a green fluid most likely comparable to blood. They set her down on a cot near Nora, and Whitley is pissed about getting his clothes stained again in the span of 48 hours. But I think robot fuel/blood is at least easier to wash out than red wine. Ruby of course wants to know if Klein can help Penny as well as he has Nora, but his wheelhouse of expertise does not cover advanced robotics. The saving grace is that Pietro made her so close to human so Klein has some idea what can actually be fixed, starting with sewing up the gash in her abdomen. A thunderous rumble is heard in the distance, and suddenly the lights go out. Whitely complains about this too, but it is rather valid. Nothing quite seems to be going right, even Atlas’ power grid is against them... Ruby gets a call from May, and we learn they parted ways so May could go regroup with the Happy Huntresses and save her city. They compare notes and it’s made clear a bombing run took out part of the city’s power, though less clear is who was doing that bombing, Atlas or the Grimm? Ruby apologizes for their current inaction while they tend to Penny, but May reassures her that this may end up being more productive than trying to find something worth doing outside the city. Great googly moogly, it’s all gone to shit, and there’s very little difference a few more huntresses can make to the Mantle efforts. Ruby is left in overwhelmed despair, there’s so many problems and she doesn’t know how to solve all of them. Klein butts in with a sneeze to say she should take it one problem at a time, focus on the most immediate and possible to achieve and work outwards. For one thing, it’d help a lot of they had lights and power. 

Willow surprises everyone by showing up in the doorway to let them know about a backup generator on the edge of the estate property. She’s still the lady of this house, and she has enough self respect to not lie around getting drunk in the dark. Whitley greets her with a mix of disinterest and distain, and she notices Klein has returned to the manor and offers an off guard greeting. Weiss backs up her mom’s info drop with the fact that SDC executive members indeed have access to backup power sources if the city ever suffered a power outage like this. She doesn’t like that they have that kind of privilege while other folks suffer, but it’s for the greater good this time. This gets Whitley thinking, and my boy has a full Jimmy Neutron BRAIN BLAST! Since Jacques made him heir to the company, and the man himself is possibly dead under rubble, Whitely has full access to the Schnee Dust Company and all its resources. Since Ironwood put down the Dust embargo in Volume 4, their fleet of cargo ships are sitting empty and ready for use in a hangar. As we saw earlier this very chapter, there are automated drones that answer to the SDC rather than the Atlas military. They can use those ships and drone soldiers to give all the people stuck in Mantle a way out to fly away safely. Fantastic work, young man! You make your family proud... well, the family members who don’t commit war crimes for profit. But to do that they need the power back on so he can use Jacques’ computer, so that’s what Ruby and Blake set out to do. Getting inside the small building outside of the mansion is easy enough, and its just the flip of a switch to get the generator booting back up. In the meantime, the two share a genuinely sweet conversation. Blake reassures Ruby that the fact she’s trying to make things happen is all the world could ask of her, and an optimistic attitude like that is hard to stick with for long in this harsh world. Life in the White Fang and with Adam robbed Blake of her own similar mindset, but she truly admires and looks up to Ruby for how great a woman she is. Sadly, like most things, this moment is ruined by a Grimm. While all the lights are coming back on and Whitley gets to work, a bolt of lightning reveals that the Hound is just outside the window behind Ruby... Willow and Klein are casually sitting around waiting I guess, when they hear the loud crash of glass breaking and Willow reflexively reaches for her bottle of vodka. Weiss checks in on her teammates over comms and they tell her they need some help so she makes sure Whitley will have the business handled before she rushes out to save her friends. Ruby is getting tossed through a fresh hole in the wall, and Blake’s attempt to attack it while she regains her footing is just batted away. Blake assures Ruby that it’s just a Grimm, they can handle it as long as she can stay focused. Blake goes on the offensive again while Ruby tries to get her Silver Eyes going, but the Hound swats the Faunus girl away and tackles Ruby before sprouting its wings again with her in its clutches Blake uses the ribbon on her weapon to do what Ren had earlier in the Volume, though she anchors the other end in the ground as a tether rather than ride along as it leaves.

Weiss finally arrives at the scene of this chaos and reports the Grimm sighting back to Klein. Hearing the news of this beastly intruder leaves Willow so shaken she drops the bottle and glass she was pouring herself. Klein tries to reassure and calm her, but she’s too overwhelmed and runs out of the room... just as Penny reactivates with red eyes. Full on hacked now, and  Klein gets shoved to the floor for all his concerns about her being on her feet again. But she barely takes two steps before the real Penny resurfaces and tries to fight back for control of her own body. The struggle is deep enough to summon a whirling wind around her much like Fria had last Volume, but this one is green because Penny. Back outside, Weiss is about to summon something when a couple Centinels burrow up behind her and tear through it. From the looks of it, I think it was going to be the Nevermore from all the way back in Volume 1, so that’s a pretty cool callback to how important that fight was, and the imagery of glowing wings behind her was beautiful while it lasted. The Hound breaks free of Blake’s tether and is about to soar away, much to her dismay, when it sees a bright green glow coming from in the manor, clearly Penny going through her identity crisis. Ruby puts two and two together and realizes why the Hound has been saying “Take the Girl.” The girl is Penny, whose blood is still on Ruby’s clothes so it got a little confused while tracking. She warns her teammates, but the Hound chooses that time to drop her like a sack of potatoes and there goes the last of her Aura. Blake tells Weiss to go back inside and stop the Hound while she handles the Centinels out here, and they split up, but before Blake can reach her leader a new creature erupts from the ground and it’s bigger and more gross than the last bugs. It spits acid that comes up through a tube along its belly, and I’m confident in calling it an Alpha Centinel. Back in the eye of the storm, Klein tries to reassure Penny that she’s okay, which is phrased a little but I assume he means as “you’re in a safe place and your injuries have been treated, you don’t need to defend yourself like this”. The man is just a butler, he doesn’t know what we do about her internal struggle against antagonistic programming and her wrestling with her sense of self. Whatever new orders Watts has given her, she really doesn’t want to follow them. Luckily, there’s someone at her side to comfort her and hold her hand, and that’s Nora. Passing along the comforting words she got from Blake earlier this Volume, she tells Penny she doesn’t have to just be and do what other people expect of her. She may feel like a part of her is making her do what she doesn’t want to, but don’t forget about the rest. She’s more than just that one part of her mind or persona. It’s nowhere near the same situation as Nora’s own identity crisis earlier, but the words have the same positive effect. Penny gains control again and the wind barrier subsides. Weiss reports in that the Hound is heading inside and she’s on her way to intercept, and gets the bad news that Willow fled the room to go who knows where. Well, we know now cuz we see it, she went to what I assume is her own bedroom (god forbid she and Jacques still share a bed after 8 years of the most sour their marriage has been). On her vanity there’s another bottle or two of booze, and her Scroll. She wants to retreat to what she knows best, but hesitates and then gets spooked by the shattering sound of the Hound breaking in through the window above the front door.

It picks up on Penny’s scent from the blood stained on the floor, but by the time Weiss charges in through the front door it’s gone. The next five minutes of the episode have major horror movie vibes, and I love it. Weiss slowly looks around the foyer for any sign of the beast, when Willow screams over her Scroll to look out above her and indeed the Hound drops down to backhand her into a piano. Instead of staying to attack her, it goes to follow Penny’s scent again and leaves Weiss to check in with her mom after that sudden warning. Biggest triumph thus far, Willow threw her bottle against a wall and instead pulled up the feed from her series of surveillance cameras around the manor on her Scroll to track the Hound. It’s near Winter’s old bedroom, and Willow doesn’t seem to understand that it’s tracking a scent like a bloodhound. Maybe she just doesn’t encounter Grimm a lot or they’re just usually not this competent and singularly focused. She recognizes the direction it’s heading next with great horror, and what we see next gives us that same dread. Whitley still has blood on his clothes, and he dismisses Willow’s warning cuz he probably doesn’t think she has anything to say worth hearing after his years of dealing with her drunken state. He’s almost done setting up the automated orders, when he hears the door starting to open and angrily snaps at what he assumes is Willow coming to check on him since he didn’t answer the call. But he is dead wrong and hides behind the desk immediately, because it is indeed the Hound come to potentially kill him. He’s doing his best to hide, but it expands its vocabulary to tell him it knows he’s here. Just as it’s about to round the corner, an Alpha Boarbatusk charges in and pins it to the wall. Weiss isn’t the only Schnee in the house who can summon, and Willow will not let her son die this day. He’s about to bolt out of the room while it’s preoccupied with the summon, but turns back to hit Yes on the computer and get the evacuation plans started. Good job kid, you did more to save Mantle than your father and Ironwood combined. The two sprint down the hall with the Hound in hot pursuit, but get some respite from an ice wall forming between them and the Grimm thanks to Weiss arriving from the opposite direction. She’s out of breath, but assures them she didn’t forget about either of them, most likely as a callback to the conversation she and Willow had last Volume about Whitley being left behind when Weiss and Winter sought independence. The unarmed Schnees express their gratitude and retreat from that wing of the house, and Weiss prepares her summons for combat with the beast breaking through the ice.

Back outside, Blake is struggling with the Alpha Centinel and complains about how gross it is. She avoids its scythe blade-like arms with some clever use of elementally charged shadow clones and begs for Ruby to wake up and give her some backup. But that can’t last forever and eventually it holds her by the neck ready to slice. Before it can, though, Ruby wakes up and bisects it first. She laughs weakly and tells Blake she heard what she was saying. They hear a scream coming from inside the mansion and head inside to meet up with the others. Weiss and the Hound hear it too, and the Hound stops doing its best “Here’s Johnny” impression through the hole in the ice to go chase down this new sound. We see the source of it, and it is in fact Penny losing control of herself again to the new programming. The red eyes stay this time, and she shoves Klein aside once again to stiffly and mechanically walk out to the foyer. As fate would have it, Willow and Whitely are there too, and they naturally question the fact that she’s emotionlessly walking past them when last they saw she was bleeding and unconscious. She responds that she’s going to open the vault, and then apparently self destruct. Not to state the obvious, but we really can’t let that happen so lets hope the power of love will break through to her. Before Penny can even get down the stairs, the Hound arrives to try and grab her and she catches his hand effortlessly, and then the other, so they’re stuck in a shoving match stalemate. The Hound solves this problem by growing a new arm out of its back and using it to grab Penny by the head. It slams her around like a ragdoll, still repeating “Take the Girl”, and holds a claw up to her throat when RWB arrive at the bottom of the stairs. Blake and Weiss are unsure how to intervene, but Ruby goes stone cold serious telling it that’s enough. In the literal blink of her eye, a Silver Eyed blast blinds it and sends it falling out the window behind it leaving Penny to tumble down the stairs unconscious again. They hope and pray the threat is over as they check her body, but the real horror starts now. 

The Hound claws his way back up through the window, and part of his head has been blasted away to reveal a dog faunus with one intact silver eye. In a voice likely not used in a long time, he continues to repeat his orders to “Take the Girl...” Ruby is mortified and shell shocked to see a living person within the frame of this beast unlike any she’s known prior, and I’m sure the wheels in her mind are turning to wonder if Summer Rose suffered a similar undying fate at Salem’s hands... and if that’s what will happen to her if she is captured? He begins shambling towards them and they try to carry Penny away from him but end up cornered. Whitley gets an idea and he and Willow start pushing on the knight statue nearest to them. Just as the Hound, whose human portion I have been inspired by a podcast to call Johnny, is about to grab the girls the statue falls down and crushes him to death. A choir chants in Latin as the Grimm fades away... and for the first time leaves behind a skeleton. Ruby seems shaken to her core as she confirms to the others that that was in fact a person they saw in there.

Ending that side of the story entirely for the week, we go back to the rubble in the jail cell to see Cinder has found Watts and the two make a flying get away. So that’s fun, we’ll have to see if they make it back in time to intercept JRY trying to sneak through Monstra. Until then, I’m gonna sleep like the dead. Ciao!

[killrockabill]

azula redemptive

so this isnt a full redemption more of a setting her on the path. azula is a character i kind of identify with. i grew up in a chaotic environment and learned to “play the game” manipulate lie and occasionally throw people under the bus. at first it was just a way to get through life but then it kinda just became who i was. i have gone to counseling etc but still occasionally wonder if my feelings are real or if theyre just what theyre supposed to be. i was lucky to have people in my life. my uncle irohs but she didnt seem to. here it is.

Azula was never the type for brooding, that was more zuzu’s territory. Tonight was different. She was tired. It had been a few years since the avatar ended one hundred year war.  she had barely kept track of the actual amount of time. In the time since however; she had not grown complacent. she couldn’t. 

Zuzu had become the fire lord and seemed to be decent enough at it. At least he was capable of not destroying the fire nation with incompetence. While they were never close there was a hint of something in her that could almost be considered pride. No. Pride was the wrong word the feeling was more that of acknowledgment. He and the avatar won and that was the end of that story. 

For a time azula was unsure of her place in the universe. She had lived her life to be the true heir, to be ozai. He was a wrathful and petty god and she was his disciple. 

“ Why was that again?” She pondered. “Well what else could i be? Zuzu?” She knew she was smarter than that.

Zuko was soft and too stupid to play the game, so she used him. Every misstep, every weakness was a way to save herself from being him. Did she ever feel bad about it? Perhaps a long time ago, not that it mattered. You do something long enough you get used to it and when you get good at it you start to enjoy it. Every maneuver, every manipulation was a victory and nobody played the game like her. 

“My shadow lord” a shaky voice called from behind. The cult of ozai must have sent him. They had been useful to be sure, but she hated that name. It reminded her of the darkness within her, the same darkness her mother saw. 

“Yes?” Azula spoke finally in an exasperated tone. “What is it? i have no use of any of you right now.”

“F-forgive me. I-I have come to warn you.” he stuttered as though he were shaken by the earth itself. 

“You? Warn me? I may not be the fire lord anymore, but i am still one of the most powerful firebenders of this generation. What could be coming that I need worry?!” That was a bit more intense than she intended, but anyone who knew her knew it was her default state.

“N-nothing that i'm sure you cannot handle, b-but as your loyal servant it’s my duty. The ozai followers t-they doubt your intentions. They believe you don't intend to restore ozai to power.”

That was a fair thought seeing as she had no intention of restoring ozai to power. She had used them to challenge zuko and make him grow into the strong leader the fire nation needed. He was soft on enemies, azula being a perfect example, and not wary of friends that could turn on him as they do. 

“Hmph, well I suppose i owe you thanks. Tonight you will leave and discard any sign of joining the movement. Live a life well or not it doesn't matter to me” she hated being in debt to someone. Azula could manage some over privileged fanatics, but knowing she’ll have to get her hands a bit dirty is nice.

“M-my lady i-i-i apologize i meant no offense.  please i-“ 

Azula cut him off. “ you misunderstand. Tonight there’s going to be a … discussion, between the rest of the group. Take this and go do whatever it is you people do.” She flipped a gold piece. She couldn't be bothered to remember if he was one of the wealthy members and what's one gold piece. It was his duty to her to report and that should be rewarded. Flies and honey; perhaps if she did that back then those two. NO we are not going there azula scolded herself. Focus.

The man was still sitting there mouth agape like a fool. Was he processing what just happened? Regretting exposing his comrades? If he betrays her and lets them know she's coming she will live up to the darkness that earned her the title shadow lord. 

“I don’t know what you are waiting for, but go. I have an appointment.”  Azula walked past him. Ordinarily any threat of a stanger betraying her and leading her to a trap would be subdued by their fear of her. Azula learned that was not a guarantee the hard way. Her shoulder aches like an old woman from ty lee’s strike. That wasn’t what azula had heard about chi blocking, but maybe this hit was deeper. 

“FOCUS” azula chided herself “her of all people.  Yes, I did use fear to keep them in line but I was good to her. I tried at least. There weren’t many who’s tears could get to me. Fuck, enough. You need to deal with these fools”

Azula had reached the door to where the cult of ozai held their meeting. A Modest wooded shack near where Azula was. It benefited them to be out of the way and not get attention. Azula paused and thought “alright put on the scary eyes” before making her entrance. You could hear the conversation screech to a halt.

“My lady! Welcome, what brings you? New plans rid us of your brother?” One finally broke the silence. The fool that was their leader before azula had seized control. 

The gaul to pretend like they werent just talking about turning on her. Did they know who they were dealing with? She was no longer princess azula daughter of ozai; she was the god now. 

“Its come to my attention that some of us feel breaking my father, ozai out of prison. Let me clear ozai was a fool who bit off more than he could chew trying to conquer the world. He’s weak now spoiled by everyone's fear of him he lost to a child.”

“You speak out of turn little girl. You wouldn’t be so brave as to say that in his presence!” One of them burst out. 

“Ah, yes the withered old man that has been in shackles for how many years?” Azula genuinely could not remember anymore. “I am a prodigy trained by the finest benders this nation has to offer. The bender that conquered ba sing se. Even with his bending he lost to an avatar that I beat. “ 

Azula wasn’t bragging. This was the fight. Subduing them without having to lift a finger. What happens when azula needs to lift a finger? Well, let's say azula would oblige in earnest. She could tell most of them had already seemed to understand. Any of them try something it’ll end one way. She’d won the fight before they could even try; perhaps she should write a book azula mused. “Azulas art of war”. 

The only one not to flinch was their leader. His smile from when he greeted her did not waiver. He must have something in mind, as he would have no way of defeating her in single combat.

“My princess, perhaps you’re right there is something unclear about our partnership.” He started, as calm as can be. “ you are a talented bender to be sure, but without your father’s backing you’re simply an unstable little girl. Your usefulness is only in name and furthering our reputation.” 

Usefulness? This commoner did not just reference her as a prop in their machinations. This was when azula began to get heated, literally. Around her the air began to warm until the air around her blurred like that of the air around an open flame. The room had become unbearably hot for the others, but azula the dragon she was, could handle much more.

Azula let out a sigh. “Unstable?!? Lets be clear you work for me! Not the other way around. I have seen and done more in life let alone for the fire nation than you will in what is about to become a shortened life!” 

Parts of azula began to catch fire as her rage seethed. Zuzu may have been a lame turtle duck of a brother, but he did show her the usefulness of adapting different bending styles. The fire on her crawled across her body into a sphere in her hands. Though the leader had prepared for a direct strike; azula had something else prepared. She slammed her hand on the floor and allowed the fire ball to be pressed on the ground exploding out in a circle around her. 

The cabin had caught fire and many of the cultists were sent flying into the walls and scattered like the insects they were. Azula had practiced that move for some time and understood why strong earth benders would use an impact like strike like that. It was an effective way to combine offence and defense, and not to mention oddly satisfying. 

Azula may have been willing to kill if necessary but leaving them broken was the better choice. She snuffed out the fire leaving the smoke cloud to cover her exit. That should be a clear message to anyone. Princess azula is done.

Fire lord zuko did not need his shadow lord anymore. Azula hated to admit zuko had become a passable fire lord. The land prospered, and while zuko is about peace hes is firmer on asserting influence in world. The fire nation is still a force to be reckoned with and she was as influential in it as the avatar or that slob of an uncle. There wasn’t much to do here. Azula wasnt sure what the next move was, but there were things that needed to be drawn before action could be taken. 

The palace at the fire nation capital. It was much like she remembered less a gaudy statue of her father. The way the paths lead by lantern fire flowed like a living flame. It was soft enough to have a cozy warmth like that of the hearth. If she missed anything the most of the old princess lifebit was how home loosened tension. This unfortunately was not a vacation.

Her brother liked to sit near the water where the woman and him sat. Only two kyoshi to guard him, I suppose if azula was an average attacker that would do. Azula could already feel the exhaustion this is going to come from this

She waited seated at the spot he typically stops at. 

“AZULA” ah that raspy broody voice is never, not funny. He growls like a cub caught without a mother. “What are you doing here?! Trying to cause more trouble for me to clean up? Trying to take the throne?

“Oh zuzu all I’m doing is sitting here. Come I wish to speak to you, as civilly as possible. I’ll even allow one of your fangirls chi block my arms.

A laugh broke the tension “that's even funnier the second time around azula” that cheery pitch could only be one person. Azula perked up in her seat.

“Ty lee, im glad you’re here too. Wait that sounded ominous. I mean the sight of you is pleasant.” Not exactly how she thought things would go they were supposed to be separate. “Well that’s best anyway it’d make the noodle arm treatment feel less awkward when it’s someone you know.” 

“Hey that makes this easy”  with two jabs azulas arms and therefore lightning wre off the table.  “I just want you to know. I am still scared of you, but that fear makes me want to stop it.”

“Ah-um ty lee… i don’t expect you to and ill understand if you say no but i'd like to speak with you after.” Azulas voice was gentle when it reached ty lee.

Ty lee paused to glance back. She was shaken at the thought. Of course she would be what else should she be? Happy? She said it herself she was scared of azula and you cant have friends with that or they betray you. 

“Lets try this one first.”

Azula was impressed at how ty lee could not only give a non answer and still leave someone hopeful. After the war, thinking through things during training sessions, azula had a new perspective on ty lee. Azula never doubted her prowess for a second, but being such a skilled people reader and least suspect of manipulation. She was everything azula was not and then some. Where azula scanned for weakness ty lee scanned the person. Where azula would use fear to bend to her will ty lee was playing the long game with positive reinforcement. Azula needed her to know that and more.

“There.” Zuko barked. “Now state your business.”

“Zuzu, you’re not meant for impressions, that was the worst ‘father’ i've ever heard. I'm leaving the capital and maybe even the fire nation. “

“Why?” Zuko was confused, what would be her next move. other nations aren’t helpless and its not like Zuko would leave them to her.

“What is there for me here? Zuko, youre the fire lord ive made my peace with that. You were too soft when you first got the throne, and while not all of my actions were always so benevolent; after a while it was about keeping you on alert dealing with the changing world. Making sure you had fangs. Father, ozai, had beat you to submission for so long and only at the end of the war did you begin standing.

“You think you were helping me? Training me in some insane way?!” Azula knew he’d be this way.

“Heavy lies the crown on the head of the ruler zuko. I should know i had it for a couple hours and lost my mind.” Azula chuckled at the memory. A foolish child who had nobody left to manipulate and nobody she trusted, of course shed crack. “You don't have to believe me. Im not sure I believe me. If i couldn't be the fire lord, I'd help mold him, I thought. You're still too soft with other nations in my opinion but you can manage. You’ve proven that.”

“And why tell me instead of just going?” Zuko had began to calm down, perhaps the avatar was rubbing off on him.

“The very reason i had to have my arms chi blocked. You fear me. Sure, you could fend me off with your friends but you know i am not something you would want to face. Now you know you dont have to look over your shoulder, at least not for me.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Zuko lowered his tone. If azula were plotting it could’ve worked here.

“No. I expect the next few weeks you’ll be on high alert. You’ll be upping security in cities and in constant communication with smaller settlements. Most importantly, you will be training. You Want to know that if we cross blazes, you will win. That is why i am leaving that response to an unseen threat? Exactly as a fire lord should be.” He won't look at it practically, at this point what is there for azula to be here. the only reason to keep this up is to take that throne, the one that broke her, it may be rightfully hers but she was not rightfully its. It was owed to her but she was not owed to it.

“Listen zuko, we’ve both seen ozai for what he is. The man who needed his teenage daughter to take ba sing se because he never could. The shortest reigning fire lord who faced an avatar that had only one year of training on the day he was at his peak. He called you a loser, and always asserted dominance because that was the only way to get people to not see the pathetic incompetent man with good enough luck to have me. Looking at you now he missed an opportunity at a useful tool.”

“People aren’t tools azula.” The father talk began to itch at zukos emotional scabs. 

“That was the way of the house, and you never learned that. You were too blind or stupid to think ‘whats the right answer’. That is why i was favored. Not luck, i played the game. Not unlike my friend ty lee, there did with me. She saw me.” It appears that azula had some scabs still too. She felt like her skin was raw and each word was hard to spit out.

“It doesnt matter” she took a breath “it would shame the fire nation anyway having to change leaders every few years. Just take my words and do what you will with them.”  Azula was done, this had already been more a spectacle than she cared for. 

“Ok, now what you stroll out the front door? We should take you in. That’d interrupt your trip. What now?”

“Oh zuzu, you are so on guard still. Good. I’ve an exit lined up out if the way so nobody questions my presence. If you take me in? Why? So i can escape THEN leave? Just extra steps. I dont mind waiting however. I think we both got something from this conversation.”

The air was warm. Unseasonably warm, its him. Azula wondered if this was coincidence or if he made hes own version of her technique. Now azula was tense. Impressive brother, but these are your options. 

Finally, a high pitched intervention. “Uhum, fire lord zuko she also wanted to have a talk with me too. Maybe while you think about what to do with her I can see what she wants to say.” 

“Are you sure? If she tries something.” Big brother of the year hm. Hopefully mai watches her back azula mused. 

“Zuko im a big girl. Plus you’ll be in holler distance. Just keep an eye out.” Ty lee turned to azula. “Im going to sit next to you now, and if you try to bend at me or kick me i will be very upset.” There it was. Azula looked in awe at how she managed to channel a determined child while making it clear there will be consequences for any transgressions. Azula truly was a fool like her father before her, failing to see what’s right in front of her.

“Hi azula. You wanted to talk?” She tried to keep the pep but ty lee couldn’t help but be nervous. Azula was one Of the most dangerous people in the fire nation. 

“I did. Thank you. Even though you know there’s a chance i could actually be up to something leading to you or something or someone you care about because all youve ever seen from me is wrath. So, thank you.”

“Ppft, im sorry azula I really am and you’re right i wasnt sure but that awkward rambling reminded me of that day at the beach.”

“ARE YOU MOCKING ME?! I came here and let you chi block me. Do yoy you know what this feels like? Limp noodles where my arms should be.”

“No, no, azula i swear it just shows there's still some of the good in you. Your aura is less vlack more a...deep watertribe navy blue. Theres also the temper still i see” ty lee tried not to give azula a reason to get heated. 

“Oh. I see. Well regardless of the context tgat was rude”

“Yes it was, sorry.” She gave azula the eyes that always got to her. 

“Its fine. I may have also been a tiny bit intense there.” Azula hated this. She was a prodigy. Which meant apologies and social interaction were unnecessary. 

“Ok. Lets try again. ‘Now state your business’” imitating zukos growl of a voice. It got a genuine laugh iut of azula. It had been a while since she laughed at all. 

“How do you do that? Just lull people into a state of placation and lowering their guards.” Azula regrouped.

“Its not a trick like you said. Well, mostly not. I do watch people and learn what i can, but its so i dont do anything to start upsetting people. And the rest is just i have a calming aura” 

“So you’re just a pure sweet roll in this terrible world?” Azula was proud. She made a quip that didnt sound threatening. That practice wasnt for nothing at least.

“I dont know about that. All I do know is that if we try the world doesn’t have to be terrible.  You’ve changed azula. I can see it. Not just your aura either. You meant at least half of what you said i can feel it.”

“Half? That's more generous than i would be in your shoes. I appreciate that and would love to girl talk i think time’s coming so ill jump to it. I want you to know the same as zuzu. I dont have plans for revenge for the prison. I also wanted to say… im sorry. You may have noticed my opinion of my father has changed and as his heir, his duplicate its making me think i need to redefine me. Clearly our way didnt work. I held you and mai by a leash and when it came down to it who do you side with the leash wearer or holder. I’m sorry it happened that way and what it’s probably done since, but there it is. 

Ty lee remained silent.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me or even believe me. I just thought, you of all people deserved that much even from a monster like me.” The silence coming from ty lee was worse than any words she could have said. Each second of waiting for any kind of reply was tourture. Ty lee was never the silent type, so as expected she probably won’t accept it. That's fine azula didnt need her to; she didn’t need her or anyone for that matter. Beasts dont always have packs, especially the most vicious ones. 

Ty lee stood up and took a few paces. Azula watched and simply thought ‘there she goes. She may be giving azula an out as a courtesy, ehich is more than she expected.

“You're not a monster.”  Ty lee's silence finally broke. Her tone was quiet and somber. 

“Youre not a good person. Youre Probably one of the worst friends I’ve had, but we were friends. I dont know how much to believe you, but you’ve apologized for hurting my feelings before in more casual moments. The time away may be good for you. I tell you what, I’ll accept your apology for the both of us. I’ll know i gave you one last shred of trust and if how things ended truly bothered you it can stop now.”

Azula was stunned. She shouldn’t have been. That reaction was as textbook as azula threatening a subordinate. Azula should be a little more at peace now, but she isnt. It hurts. Here was a kind strong woman who managed to make something of herself and azula was nothing anymore. A vagrant who couldn’t do what she was raised to do for a few hours. Kindness and compassion were underused thongs for azula but clearly they’re good for something. 

“Ty lee” azula choked on the words. How pathetic. How embarrassing. On the verge of tears because she was not a monster to ty lee. 

“ thank you ty lee. I didnt and still don’t deserve your friendship, but i think you did something to me. I dont know what, but something. You may go if you wish. I think i want to wait and see what zuko has to say”

“I’ll put in a good word for you. You called him ‘zuko’ most of the time you talked to him. You're a bit confusing right now but I think that might be a good thing.”

“Ha, oh ty lee you have too much faith in people. I could still be the monster in your closet. Don't ever change that.” Azula needed everything in her to not cry, not in front of them. Not again. Never again

Ty lee turned back to face azula. “And you have too little faith. That's ok though, i may not need to change but I really hope you are.” She smile md at azula. It was a soft smile like the glow of a candle in the night and just as warm. How she could manage a real smile towards azula was beyond her. It was beautiful and it had a way of crushing azula. 

Ty lee was gone. Not far, as zuko still had to be in the garden somewhere. Azula was glad for that she could breath and focus on the next hurdle. Getting out with noodle arms would be difficult but not impossible. They were so put at ease about the arms they didnt think of any attacks she could do with her legs. If it came down to it she would set enough of a blaze to keep them occupied and run to her escape location. 

Zuko and the others returned. He had a stoney look on his face more grim than broody. Azula cant be surprised its bad news, but it was less than ideal. Ty lee stood next to him. Had she kept her word and gave her a chance? Or was that just to encourage me to stay. She had been bitten once and was twice as shy nowadays.

“Ty lee mentioned your talk went well. Im glad you didnt try to kick or bite her.”

“Zuzu, what do you take me for a platypus bear or something?”

“Or something” zuko remarked. It was a fair enough jab azula decided. 

“She told me you seem lost in the world. If this is true, we can help. Theres the beach house so you dont have to interact with people unless you want to. We can get you treated like someone in our family should be. You can help us do good for a change.”

“Where do you people get this faith?! I do not intend on being a ward or high end prisoner. I do not belong here, and cannot promise you I’ll be what you want. For all we know i'll turn on you like i have a dozen times over.” Azula could not tell if he really was that foolish or if she should be offended at the patronizing proposition. “No, if im to become something, someone, else it has to be away from here.

Zuko stood silent for a moment. “Very well, but i want you to know that any action against a fire nation citizen is an action on me. the way you and i have been going for years seems to only have one end so i hope you mean all of this. You may go on the condition a kyoshi warrior shadows you for a while.”

“The ones in the elaborate dresses, white, make up and golden fans? Im sure theyll be like a shadow in the night. Though I suppose it could be worse. If i get left alone they will be left alone, just so we’re clear.” Azula hated being followed, but if its just for a while she can put up with it. 

“They’ll watch and see if you're just up to old tricks. You'll get a head start and they'll catch up so you won't be sure they are present. If they determine youre no longer a threat they will leave you.”

“Interesting proposal Zuko spoken like a benevolent leader. I accept.” Azula stood up, and was a little off balance because of the arms but they began to come back to her. “I… suppose that's it then brother. I’ll do you a favor and make it so my way in cannot be used again. We may not see eachother again, so farewell. remember, you are the dragon not some toothless herbivore. Dont embarrass us.” There was an awkward melancholy to azulas voice. They were never siblings in the traditional sense and she did try to kill him. A lot. Still, it’ll be sad to not get under his skin anymore even just a little. 

“Goodbye azula. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for. If all of this is true my offer will stand.” 

Azula had nothing to say. She couldn’t. She fully intends to be gone, and yet he leaves the door open? It’s embarrassing, its offensive, and somehow its cruel. Azula living the rest of her days in a place designed to make her complacent? No. She may not want the throne but she will not be a pet.” 

Azula nodded and walked away. He was as good a brother as you could get in this family and she was as bad a sister as you could get in this family. That bridge is burned whether he realizes or not. 

Now all that was left for azula was to decide where to go. That entire exchange left her raw and exhausted. Zuko may have had a point, the beach wasn’t far and a small coma would be nice. A stop off there get some nation neutral clothes and see where the wind take her. It was as good a plan as any for now. 

When she finally reached the shore and looked up the stairs to the childhood beach house the exhaustion set in. How long had it been since she slept? More than 24 hours to be sure. Azula dropped to her knees and felt the sand beneath her. Soft, like ty lee's smile. 

“No.” Azula dismissed. Now was not the time to reminisce. This sand was once a rock. It could have been a rock that punctured war ships sinking them to their doom, or a smaller rock cutting the food of an unwitting beach goers foot. Azula was that rock. Was she being worn down into sand? Was that ok? Everything in this world wears down, so why not her? If she could be half of what this sand was, pleasant soft and comforting perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 83

First, and most importantly: Happy Transgender Day of Visibility! To anyone who was given the wrong gender at birth, I see you and you are safe here.

If you don’t read further because of that? Well.... I don’t want you reading my stuff. The Ark is welcoming and loving. So.

If you are still with me: I actually had to start a second google doc for the story, just to continue with this chapter.... It’s mind blowing that I’ve gotten so far.  With everything going on in the world at the moment, this story has been a great escape and something worth carving out time for.

THAT SAID... Please don’t hesitate to send me asks, messages, or submissions.  I love hearing new ideas, or having the chance to talk about the things that just don’t make it on the page. Even if your ask/message/submission isn’t story related, shoot it on over.

Thanks for this chapter goes out to a whole host of people: @satan-parisienne, @baelpenrose, @zommbiebro, and @charlylimph-blog (I don’t care how often this site unfollows me from you, I will chase you down!). I genuinely don’t think I could have created so much, so consistently, without all of you.

Charly and I chose to walk to Xiomara’s office rather than take a transport.  Even though I was a bit shaken by what happened with Jokull, the exercise gave us both an opportunity to burn off nervous energy.  By the time we arrived, both of us were calmer and had our thoughts together.

Once access was granted, the door slid aside to reveal not just Xiomara, but Tyche.  I wasn’t sure if Xiomara wanted her to hear what happened, given how much stress my fellow Councillor placed on secrecy for her operation. “I need to report an incident involving Jokull Bjornson.”

My glance at my sister was met with a scoff. “Do you really think I believe you won’t tell her what happened?” Xiomara stared me down like I was an idiot.  “First things first: are either of you ladies injured?”

I shook my head carefully, while Charly grinned sheepishly. “See, here’s the thing - “

“Charly Harper, why is there blood in your mouth?” Xio’s eyes darkened as she leaned forward intently.

A hand flew up to cover the younger woman’s mouth as her eyes got wide. “Oops…” She started fidgeting with the strings on her sweatshirt. “We were minding our own business, I swear, just walking along, and - he’s so rude!  Obviously he could see Sophia wasn’t paying attention, so he stood in front of her, because he’s rude.” She started gesturing frenetically, like she was reenacting the events.  “I pulled her out of the way so we could just go on minding our own business, like we were, but he kept stepping in front of her, and then he kind of sideways called her stupid and refused to use her title like the sexist pig I bet he is, and then he, I dunno, hit on me? It was gross.” I nodded and shrugged, making her wince.  “But anyway, Sophia tried to stop him and then he was so mean and all standing over her, and I thought he was going to hit her so I shoved her out of the way, and I was right, because he hit me instead, and I may have.. I mean, I did obviously - “ she gestured at her mouth “ - but I only remember his clavicle, not his arm, and - “

“For the love of life, please take a breath,” Xiomara interrupted, throwing her hands in the air.  “What did you do?”

Before she could respond, I cut to the chase. “She bit the shit out of him. Twice.” I ignored Tyche’s snort and turned to Charly. “I thought he hit you after you bit him?”

“Well yeah, then too, but he hit me the first time trying to punch you.”

“I didn’t see that part,” I murmured.

“Duh. You were on the ground, silly.”

The sound of a cleared throat brought us back to the task at hand. “So, you were approached by a suspected cult leader, who seems to have instigated an altercation, and Miss Harper’s first reaction was to bite him?”

“No, I told you, I pushed Sophia out of the way first.”

There was the slightest upward twitch in Xiomara’s mouth. “And you say you were provoked?”

“Yes! He tried to hit Sophia, and hit me instead! I was protecting her.”

“She’s capable of defending herself.”

“And? You wouldn’t ask Tyche these questions.”  Charly stared Xiomara down, frowning.

I had no idea what was going on here.  We came to report something that might be relevant to the operation to infiltrate the cult… Why did it seem like it was turning into Charly being grilled?

The silent tension in the room drew out agonizingly before something broke.  I jumped with a dignified squeak when Xiomara threw her head back and laughed.  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I just… the mental image of our attempted-Viking-overlord being attacked by a woman half his size is just…  That’s the best thing I’ve thought of all day.”

“He was very confused,” I agreed.

Tyche stood, hands on her hips. “Hang on a sec.  You said he hit you twice?”

“Ugh, he hits like a baby,” Charly whined before pausing.  She tilted her head and turned towards me. “Actually, that doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.  

Xiomara abruptly stopped laughing and snapped her head around to stare at Charly intently. “Yes. Please explain.”

Charly scratched her cheek absently. “We stopped at a medbay… Sophia insisted in case he had something yucky in his blood, seeing as I got a mouthful of it.  Even the red marks he left on my face were mostly gone by the time I was scanned.”

“Okay…” I mean, I was there, I already knew all this.

“This guy is freaking huge, you all.  Like Xiomara pointed out, he’s literally twice my size.  He should have hurt me a lot more, just by accident.  There is no way his knee-jerk reaction to being bitten twice, and hard enough to draw blood, is to just tap me on the face hard enough to make me let go.” Her face screwed up in confusion.

“I thought he knocked you down?” Xiomara asked for clarification.

She shook her head vigorously. “Nope.  He hit me just hard enough to hit the nerve right here.” She pointed to the hinge of her jaw. “It basically made my jaw all fuzzy and tingly, and I couldn’t hold on. Gravity did the rest.”

Tyche’s eyes narrowed, and she turned to Xio. “So do we think dumb luck from a wuss, or very deliberate action?”

“I don’t know,” came the response. “Either way, he clearly didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Wrong. So wrong,” Charly argued. “The first time he hit me, he was aiming for Sophia, and would have hit her pretty hard in the kidneys.  He just managed to get me in the upper shoulder, instead, since I’m shorter.  I think it’s clear he didn’t want to hurt me, but he definitely wanted to hurt her.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to me, and I felt sick to my stomach. What the actual fuck did I do?

Xiomara nodded intently, which was pretty much expected. When I looked at my sister, she was nodding, too, biting her bottom lip like she was thinking about something.  That wasn’t the part that concerned me.  What concerned me was her loose posture, leaned over with both hands on the back of a chair, while she stared into space.  For anyone who didn’t know her, it looked like she was trying to wrap her mind around the information I just gave her about her partner.  No white knuckles, no clenched jaw.  It made no sense.

Why wasn’t she mad? “Why me though?  I don’t even know this guy!”

Xiomara pulled up her datapad and flicked a file at me.  When I opened it, my eyes got wide. “Yep. His psych profile. Read ‘em and weep.”

As I read the information in front of me, repeating it out loud. “Ambition, enhancement, memory, clarity.”  That right there is why the Miys picked you. Empathy, enhancement, memory, clarity. Those are your defining attributes. I heard the ghost of Simon’s voice echo in my head from when I first woke up here. “He hates me, because he sees me as a weaker version of him?” I asked hesitantly.

“It’s a distinct possibility,” Xiomara confirmed. “He doesn’t have access to those profiles, unless someone hacked in, and Derek says they haven’t been touched.  But he may see you being in a position of power as an insult.”

When Tyche rubbed her face with one hand, it clicked. “You fucking knew,” I whispered, too betrayed to speak any louder. Snapping around to face Xiomara squarely, I resisted the urge to scream at her. “I thought you weren’t keeping us in on this?  The whole point of bringing this to you was to keep my family out of it, for once!”

Unperturbed, Xiomara held up one hand for permission to speak, and I nearly slapped it back down.  Instead, I growled and crossed my arms. “She’s helping in a different capacity, one I have requested she not disclose to you.  It is essential that what she is doing be kept secret. So, yes, she knew, for about two hours longer than you have.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh. Oh. This is… this is recent.  Like, today recent.”

“Yes, today recent,” she confirmed, leaning back with a sigh. “And yes, I was prepared for the chance that he would approach you.  No, I wasn’t just going to leave you to the wolves, but it turns out that wasn’t even necessary.” With one hand, she made a sweeping gesture at Charly. “Between her, your sister, and your partners, I am reasonably certain you should be safe at all times.  Just don’t take any chances, okay?  Have Maverick, Conor, or both walk you to and from your office every day… so sweet, right?  Eat lunch with  someone we trust. That kind of thing.  Nothing really changes, just be alert to your surroundings.”

I groaned loudly. “Xio, I just got my personal shadows to let me walk to work by myself.  They are never going to let me live this down.”

“There are worse things in life than having loved ones who want you to be safe. I think you’ll live.”

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[askthewitchlady]

Ajin: Demi-human (season 1) Review

THIS REVIEW WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS

Oh my goodness was this a slog to get through, Three days people, it took me three days to get through 13 episodes Because OMG  Setting aside the fact this is some of the ugliest 2d to 3d rig work I have ever seen, I have never seen a show have some much going on with out achieving anything.  Ok ok ok let me start this properly.

In the world there are being known as Ajin, these Demi-human beings are rare with only three known cases in Japan, the Ajin are capable of resurrecting from fatal wounds making them Semi-immortal, they also have the ability to summon being known as ‘black ghosts’ which can be used for all sorts of things.  There is unfortunately no way of knowing if a person is an Aijin until they suffer some for of mortal injury at that point their body will regenerate and they will live this is the case for Kei Nagai, a high school student studying to be a doctor.  While the government of Japan have led people to believe that Ajin are kept in protective custody it is learned that not only are they but most other countries use Aijin as test subjects for medicines and weapons, including life fire testing, because of their regenerative abilities.

Story time

17 years ago during a war in an unnamed African nation the first Ajin was discovered.  Reffered to as a soldier of god because he could not be killed the soldier was immobilized and claimed as property of the US government.

Now Kei Nagai is an apathetic highschool student studying to be a doctor on his mothers demand. While to his ‘friends’ he seems like a cheerful if easily taken advantage of boy the truth is he is apathetic and cut off from the people around him seeing only the value they have to him personally.  While walking to school he and his friends note another boy their age Kaito sitting outside a convenience store they comment on how weird he is and question if Kei is his friend after Kaito waves to him, Kei denies this and they walk on.

At school the subject of Ajins is brought up because of their value in the medical feild, one of Keis friends shows another classmate a video of Inhumane testing on an Ajin subject.  The boy also asks his teacher if the truth about the high reward for an Ajins capture is true.  For some reason this startles Kei and his reaction draws attention so he asks if Ajin aren’t really human.  His teacher says they are not.

Reminiscing he vaguely remembered the death of a childhood pet, after burying it while trying to console his sister he wonders about death and witness’ something strange.  curious about the memory he decides to visit his sister in the hospital and tries to ask her about what she remebers but she refuses to discuss it being outright hostile to him.

still lost in thought and wondering about Ajin as well as flicking through Study cards Kei misses the stop light and begins to cross the street before being hit full on by a truck.  the truck drags his body quiet a ways as it skids to a halt and his friends are horrified by what they’ve witnessed, the driver is shaken and climbs out desperate to say that it was Keis fault when to their shock Kei crawls out from under the truck dazed t first he is confused about what happened before quickly realizing and becoming upset he insists he’s human and begs for his friends to believe him however he realizes they only see him as a way to make money by turning him in.  in terror Kei screams unintentinally releasing his voice, another unique trait of Ajin that causes a temporary paralasis in those who hear it, before fleeing the scene.

a little later Yu Tosaki and his body guard and assistant Izumi Shimomura of the Ajin control branch of the government arrive to question Keis friends and his mother. As this is going on it is revealed that Kei has fled to a local Shrine and then into the woods beyond, desperatly thinking who might help him he remebers Kaito who had been a childhood friend but whome he’d been told not to be around anymore by his mother.  Desperate and worried Kai Might also want to turn him in but feeling alone Kei calls Kaito and the other boy is ready to help his friend filling a duffle bag with supplies and heading out, knocking out a poliece officer who had found Kei Kaito offers his old friend a hand up and they flee the area on a motorcycle.

The Bad

Despite how much I’ve written that happened in the first episode.  it not actually a lot.  theres a lot of nothing in this show and thats a major problem.  I a not against quiet moments, for example Hiyao Miyazaki is very well know for his long silent scenes, but even these scenes serve to tell story in one way or another, I get the feeling either the writer or director of this show wants to emulate that but the quiet scene in the show just don’t accomplish anything.  theres also a sense of ‘artistic padding’  where things are added for the art of it,  I don’t know if someone in the production team had higher aspirations or if they where just desperate to cover the ugly modles but it doesn’t work.

The episodes feel long but almost nothing happens. or a lot happens but none of it matters or is memorable.  The motivations of the antagonist make no sense,  and while I have a theory of who he truely is I won’t say untill I do my reviw on season 2 (Which won’t be for a while because this was so hard to sit through)

Kei himself is a terrible protagonist, there are moment whre you think he’ll get better, but he really doesn’t in fact I thought the show was going to pull some kind of switch and make the story focus on the friend Kaito who seems to really genuinely still care about Kei even though they hadn’t been friends for years and who insists even if Kei is an Ajin, he’s still Kaitos friend so that’s all that matters.  But Kei leavs Kaito after only a couple episodes

It’s clear that there is something not right with kei from the get go, the first time we see his phone all his friend are listed not by name but number literally ‘friend 1′  ‘friend 2′  and so on, and as the show goes on theres an impression that the creators where trying to make Kei a Psychopath.  I’m not talking Ax wielding movie psycho but a clinical psychopath, no empathy no connection to the people around him, a general callous nature and his willingness to use then abandon anyone who might have value.  I’m not a fan of using mental illness as a way of making people ‘other’  mental illness is demonized enough, and frankly it’s hard to empathize with a protagonist who openly admits they don’t care about anyone.

There aren’t any real stand out characters either,  they all feel like cut outs,  you have you deceptively friendly antagonist, you have your to serious government agent, and his body guard who obviously has a crush on him, you have the best friend, you have the friendly granny.

It’s just all been done before and better.

Now about episode 8 a character name Ko Nakano is introduced and for a moment I thought Oh the shows just going to give us a new protagonist... NOPE!  he get capture by Kei who keeps him locked in an old shipping truck for the rest of the season,  Fuck that noise.  honestly Kei gets less and less likeable as the show goes on.  He abjectly refuses to get involved with trying to stop the antagonist, Sato’s, terrorist plot even saying openly he doesn’t care what happens to other because he’s found a nice place where he can live a quiet normal life.  Kei had in fact been taken in by a kindly older woman who convinced the villagers kei was her grandson from tokyo who had gotten into trouble and was staying with her.

That being said.... There’s a couple good things

The elderly woman is quiet charming, she doesn’t care about the Ajin or what ever other trouble Kei seems to be in she just sees a young man who helped her after she fell and lets him stay.  If not for another villager recognizing his picture on the news and reporting him to claim the rumoured reward Kei clearly would have been happy to stay in that little village forever and just live a quiet life.

The opening theme song is pretty good.  the CG is frustrating in that in the opening they show shots of characters as they looked in the manga and those drawings are amazing, This would have looked so much better 2d Animated.

The black ghosts are kind of neat.

theres a couple interesting fights with the Ajin, since they recover almost instantly from death they’ll actually kill themselves in combat to resurrect with out their injuries or to even escape grapple or escape the effects of tranquillizers, so that’s neat

I haven’t got much here guys I’m sorry I’m trying but this just, I feel like there might have been something good under all the thick thick thick padding.

Final Thoughts?

I don’t recommend it, even for one watch it’s just a slog, it’s not enjoyable it’s not even a good time killer because it feels like it drags.

Everything from plot point to characters to scene have been done before in better shows, and the aesthetic is just Ugly, terrible CG modles with awkward round movements to avoid collision issues clearly, and the backgrounds look like someone took photos and then put them through the photoshop watercolor filter.

There’s nothing worth reccomending about it, I know Netflix has stuff way better then this so go watch that because this so Not worth your time.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

No Surrender Part 4

Request: hey i love your writing!! i was wondering if you could write something where the ready and bucky are in the same hydra facility and try to escape together. idk maybe that’s bad but i love your writing!!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: In the winter of 1945 Hydra captures Sargent James Barnes. After months spent unconscious, he wakes up in a cell with you and a new addition on his left side. Quickly it becomes clear that being locked up together may be the best bout of luck either of you has had in a while… Maybe together the two of you have a chance of making it out of this hell alive. Now, 69 years later the two of you are brought back together, scars and all. War changes everyone it touches but maybe, together, you can both find some kind of peace.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some sad fluff

A/N: This was supposed to be the last part buuuut rather than serve up a fucking 10k chapter I thought I would split this to the best of my ability. The next, and final, part will be a bit longer than this one. 

As I’ve said a million times by now, thank you all so much for being patient! You’re amazing! 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2  @krugeforeveryone @jewelofwinter @get-loki @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @wildmoonflower @cutie1365

Stark’s kid had put Steve and Natasha up in high-end DC condos while the situation regarding the aftermath of S.H.I.E.L.D. was sorted out. Bucky looks out the window of the guest room, wishing he could appreciate the view.

He’d never admit it to Steve but the trek out of the courtroom had shaken him. The sea of people and reporters shouting, cameras flashing, his lack of control… he hated it. He hated even more so knowing you faced that sea after him. Sharon was with you but still… after what you did for him… he would have rather protected you from that. All of it.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cuts through the quiet of the room. Bucky jumps noticeably. “Sorry.”

“No… don’t be I just…” His shoulders slump as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“The crowd?”

He gives Steve a studious glance, “Yeah.”

“Not a fan either,” Steve sits next to him, nudging him with a shoulder. “Come on, there’s somethin’ else.”

Bucky huffs out a weak laugh, “That easy to read?”

“You’re my brother Buck. Can’t hide shit from me.”

He stares at his mismatched hands. “It… I just… She didn’t have to do that…”

“Y/N?” Bucky nods. “Buck,” Steve wraps an arm around his shoulder, “she knows that. But she wanted to.”

He just can’t fathom how he’d be worth reliving the hell you went through on top of everything else, in front of a room filled with strangers no less. Of course, he can’t say that to Steve.

“I… I’d like to do something for her.”

“Like what?” Bucky looks over at Steve, his smile soft and bright.

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Flowers seem like they’re not enough and-”

“I bet Y/N would love flowers.” Steve stands, smiling. “Come on,” he holds out a hand, “we’ll head out early and pick somethin’ out.”

They make it to the florist with only a few minutes to spare.

Steve goes right to the roses, predictable. Bucky looks elsewhere though, knowing somehow that you are not a roses kinda gal. When he sees the vibrant red tulips his gut says they’re perfect for you.

At the counter, Bucky doesn’t ask about the six white roses in Steve’s hands. If he wanted to give you flowers too he couldn’t say he was against it, you deserved the whole damn shop. Though he’d be lying if he said that it didn’t cause something to rankle in him just a touch.

It’s just past 7pm as they park on the street just down a ways from your townhome.

“It’s the white one there with the red door,” Steve points it out as if he’s not coming. Bucky turns to him in confusion, unsure if he’s ready to face this night alone.

Steve lets out a laugh, “Don’t worry pal, I’m not abandoning you. Just need to drop these off is all.” He looks down at the roses, a melancholy smile on his lips, “Peggy’s place is just around the corner…”

Oh… “Do you want-”

“Nah. I’m not staying, she’s likely asleep. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Bucky’s heart aches for the sadness in his friend’s expression.

“Ok,” he clasps a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder, his mind flashing with the countless times he did the same thing on a much smaller shoulder a lifetime ago.

“Now go get your ass in there. It’s your party after all.” Playfully, Steve pushes him in the direction of your house.

It’s only about 30 feet away but it feels like trudging a mile through quicksand. His right-hand feels damp, his heart playing a timpani beat in his chest, his mouth curiously dry. He tries to reach back into the cloudy past to remember ever feeling so nervous but comes up empty.

When his knuckles rap against the red lacquered door he thinks he may actually puke. What the hell was wrong with him?!

“Coming!” A voice that’s not yours calls. Was it possible he picked the wrong place…

Sharon flings the door open, “Hey!” Her smile is bright and genuine, eyes falling to the flowers, “Nice call, she hates roses.” His heart slows a touch. “Where’s Steve?” She glances behind him.

“He stopped by to see Peggy…”

A sad smile flashes for just a moment. “Come on in guest of honor,” she steps aside for him.

He follows her up the short flight of stairs to the second floor where the crisp white walls and deep brown floors make the space feel grounded but airy. Mixed with the amazing smells pouring from the kitchen and the soft sounds of a brass band playing from somewhere, he feels his anxiety start to wain.

As he follows Sharon back to the large open kitchen you pipe up, “Who is-” Your gaze catches him and you rush forward, “Bucky!”

“Hey,” he huffs out a little laugh as you fling your arms around his neck. Sharon plucks the flowers from his hand and he wraps you up in a hug, breathing in your perfume for just a second.

You release him, dropping to your feet. “Oh! Sorry,” you dust flour from his black tee.

“It’s ok,” he can’t help but smile. “What’re you cooking? Smells amazing.”

“What’re we cooking, you mean,” Sam interjects from the kitchen. He walks up popping a chunk of bread in his mouth. Bucky takes his offered hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Sam insisted I let him help cook.”

Bucky laughs, “Were you actually helping or just eating, Wilson?”

“I’ll have you know,” he swallows, “I’m a great sous chef.”

“I’m the one who’s just here to eat,” Sharon calls from the kitchen.

“As always, mon chaton,” you coo back.

“Where do you want these?” Sharon holds up the tulips in a lovely vase.

You gasp striding over to her, “I didn’t even notice! Bucky, these are lovely! You shouldn’t have.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m glad you like ‘em.”

A knock echoes from the front door, “Oh, would you boys mind?”

“Nah, come on man,” Sam claps a hand on Bucky’s back and leads him downstairs while you and Sharon head back to the kitchen.

“Hey Tin Man!” Stark bellows in greeting as Sam opens the door. “This is my-”

“Pepper Potts,” the pretty redhead holds out a hand to him.

He takes it gently, “Bucky.”

She smiles, “Good to finally meet you.”

“We also found a geriatric wandering the streets unsupervised,” Tony thumbs back to Steve who rolls his eyes.

“Ha. Ha.” Steve thumps the back of Tony’s head.

Sam laughs, ushering everyone back upstairs.

Within the next half hour, Hill and Natasha arrive. He thought he’d be overwhelmed by being in a group like this but instead, it feels… right somehow. The laughter, the taste of whiskey, the music, it all makes faint memories tickle at the edges of his mind. After a few drinks, you slip your hand in his before informing everyone it was time to eat.

The spread looks amazing, you and Sam truly have outdone yourselves. Mouthwatering platters filled with prime rib, mashed potatoes, fresh bread, and various sides are passed around. Before everyone digs in you stand.

“Thank you all for coming.” Your warm smile lands on everyone, ending on Bucky. “It’s been some time since I’ve had a reason to celebrate like this,” your fingers lightly graze the metal of his left arm. “I wish it had come in an easier manner but, c’est la vie. If I’ve learned anything in my many many years, it’s that endings may be hard but beginnings are often harder.

“We all stand at the beginning of new chapters in our lives, with no way to know where these roads will lead. But looking around this table I know that none here will have to travel these unknown roads alone.” You pick up your wine glass, holding it up, “So— here’s to new beginnings, new challenges, and new friends. Sante!”

“Sante!” The table echos joyfully, glasses clinking together.

“Now,” you sit, “let’s eat!”

After dinner, everyone is stuffed and exhausted from the emotional ride today was. One by one they filter out until it’s just you three near-centenarians hovering in your kitchen.

“Please let us help you clean up, Y/N.” Steve implores once more after Bucky has already struck out a few times.

“Are you two not going to let this go!?” You laugh shaking your head.

“Nope,” Steve crosses his arms and leans against the counter. You make a noise in mock annoyance and glance to Bucky for support.

“I’m on his team,” he flashes you a crooked smile.

“Oh fine! But first,” you disappear into the living room off the kitchen. The music stops and the men exchange a questioning look. After a minute the familiar scratch of a needle on vinyl starts and a song Bucky is certain he knows kicks up.

“It sounds better like this don’t you think?” You call as you head back to the kitchen.

“Definitely,” Steve nods.

Bucky’s eyes fall to the granite countertop of the island, focusing on the grey and black lines snaking through the white, trying to place this music.

He knows this. He wants to know why to place it with a memory. Everything else falls away for a second as he dives deep, trying to grasp at the ghosts of memory flitting through his mind.

“Buck?” Steve’s tone is laced with concern but it’s the feeling of your warm hand resting on his lower back that brings everything to focus.

Other warm hands, warm bodies, dancing, laughing, the brass ringing…

“Glenn Miller,” he says, voice wispy. “I think I used to like this song…”

Steve laughs, “You and everyone else, it was everywhere.”

Bucky meets his old friend’s warm smile, “I liked dancing to this one, right?”

“Yeah, always tried to force me to join in too.”

You haven’t moved your hand from his back, he’s thankful for it. All those decades ago he’d promised to take you dancing…

“Did you not like dancing, Rogers?”

“He hated it,” Bucky answers, knowing it’s true.

“Hate is a strong word,” Steve shoves his hands in his pockets, “but no, I wasn’t much of a dancer.”

“Well, we may have to do something about that.”

“Oh?” Steve laughs a little. “Know of any USO events coming up?”

“Not exactly, but I’m sure we can figure something out. Now,” tenderly you pat his back before stepping away, “if you boys are down for some KP duty, let’s get to it.”

-

With your kitchen clean enough to pass any inspection you head to the living room and collapse on the couch. Steve lounges on the loveseat, and Bucky looks through the records you have. He selects another Glenn Miller album putting it on.

You won’t lie, you hope he’ll take the spot next to you but instead he takes in the few photos you have by the record player. This handful of important life events are the only deeply personal touches in the space. It’s not that the room is cold, simply curated with things you find appealing aesthetically without being reminded of places and people that are no longer with you or the same.

Bucky picks up a frame and brings it over to you. A lump rises in your throat. It’s you, Dummy, Peg, and her husband.

“Was this your wedding?” For a second you’re confused but then you realize you are in a champagne-colored evening gown so it’s not an absurd assumption.

You laugh a little, “No, no. We didn’t have a wedding. Just did the courthouse before heading out of the country on a mission. No this was at one of Howard’s inane gala’s.”

“You all look happy though,” his smile is soft and almost heartbreaking.

“That likely had a bit to do with the open bar, at least for them.”

He laughs. “Makes sense.” Placing the photo back he continues to look over what’s there.

“I think you should show him.” Steve leans toward you, smile bright as the sun.

“Show me what?” Bucky asks, taking a seat next to you.

Your brows knit a little, “It’s been a long day. For all of us. Maybe tomorrow… if you’d like…”

Bucky lightly grazes your fingers, “We can head out so you can rest.”

“Oh! No, I’m not tired actually. It’s just,” you look at Steve and he nods. “Alright. Turn the record player off will you, Rogers.” You grab Bucky’s hand, pulling him up with you as Steve stops the music.

You don’t let go as you lead the way downstairs, grateful your grip stays steady even though your heart isn’t. Hopefully, Steve was right and this would be a comfort and not rip open a wound.

Just behind the staircase on the first floor is a door. Taking a deep breath you punch in the key code and scan your finger against the panel. The lights automatically flip on as the door opens.

Leaded glass lamps cast the space in a warm glow that suits the dark wood paneling of the room. There are only a few narrow windows close to the ceiling. Sometimes it made the room comforting, others it felt like it would close in on you with the weight of decades past.

Silently Bucky steps forward, releasing your hand. His blue eyes wide as he takes the space in. When he turns back you’re more than a little relieved to see the mix of joy and sadness in his sparkling eyes.

“Welcome to my time capsule.”

That’s exactly what it was. The walls lined with photos, framed news clippings, awards, even weapons from a long and sordid life. Tucked in one corner was an old crank-powered record player and yet more records, low shelves circled the space bursting with more photos and documents. In the center of it all was a worn down diplomat sofa from the mid-’70s, moved down here when you couldn’t part with the comfortable piece, and a big overstuffed chair from the 90’s both littered with pillows and blankets.

He steps to stand before a collection of photos of the Howler’s early days, before you. Steve wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. Maybe he was right…

You supposed he’d know. When you’d brought him here a few weeks ago after you both spent an afternoon with Peg he couldn’t hold back the tears, happy and mournful. Since then he’d come back just to look through things more than a couple of times. You couldn’t blame him. So many amazing people, all worth missing, lived on in this room.

Something between a laugh and a sob bubbles from Bucky and you both rush to his side, flanking him. Gingerly he plucks a photo from the wall. It’s of him and all the Howlers save for Steve. Always a favorite of yours.

“I remember this,” his voice thick with emotion. “We’d barely made it out of that damn base, the one that had a fucking moat. Thought Morita would die of hypothermia after pulling him from it…”

He sniffs hard. “But we made it, got warm and drunk and you refused to take a picture because you hated pictures.”

Steve laughs softly, tears glistening on his cheeks. “Still do.”

“Dugan gave you shit since you’d no issue being on stage.” Steve laughs seeming to know what’s coming next, “And you said some bull shit about Doing it for America.” You can’t help laugh too, imagining the look on Dummy’s face at this comment.

Without a word, Bucky’s hand falls into your own, strong fingers interlacing holding tight as Steve goes over to the record player to get some music going. You both only move a few steps down. As he looks you lean your head contentedly on his shoulder.

“When was this?” He asks smiling down at you as he points to a photo of you and Peg sitting on the back of a Jeep, dressed in dirty men’s clothing, cigarettes hanging from your lips.

Steve puts on a record, music filling the space. You sway a bit to the music, more to stall than out of enjoyment and swallow hard before responding, coaching yourself to keep it together.

“A couple of months after...” Did the rest need to be said? “We were clearing out the last remaining Hydra bases.” And looking for you. But you can’t bring yourself to form those words.

“I bet you two made one hell of a team.” He gives your hand a steadying squeeze.

“Oui,” your voice cracks, “we really did.” Some part of you screams that she’s not gone yet... yet.

Steve takes up Bucky’s left side, moody blue eyes locked on the photo. For a moment you three remain in tense silence, each wrapped in your own emotions.

Bucky clears his throat, “Do you think I could see her? That is if she’d want-”

“She’d love to see you,” your voice is thick as you try to wrangle the storm brewing in your chest. “If she’s...”

“Having a good day,” Steve puts it in softer terms than you feel you would have.

The next few hours are a blur. Every scrap you have from Dummy’s time in the 107th and with the Howlers pulled out. Bucky practically glows with every remembered moment, even the less than pleasant ones.

It’s almost 3am when Steve lets out a loud yawn, stretching like a cat in his spot on the oversized chair. You and Bucky sit close on the couch as he flips through a book on the Howlers.

“I don’t know about you pal but I’m about ready to call it a night.”

Bucky glances at Steve then you, “Yeah. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“We’ve almost passed into early,” you muse looking at your phone, “not bad for people pushing 100 I’d say.”

Steve snorts a hollow laugh and stands, “Want us to help you pack this away?”

“Nah,” you groan a bit as you stretch, “I’m sure you two will be back soon, easier to have it out.” Bucky smiles at you. “Any time you want to come by you’re welcome.” You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before standing.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky stands as Steve opens the door to the room. He takes both of your hands in his, looking intently into your eyes. “For everything.”

“Of course,” for a moment you forget everything else. “Oh! Before you leave I have something for you. I’ll be right back.”

Not giving him time to respond you bolt upstairs to your bedroom. Grabbing the bag, you’re back down in only a few minutes. It was nice to be around people who weren’t unnerved by your speed.

“Here,” you hand him the gift bag smiling.

“Y/N,” tentatively he takes it, “you’ve done enough you-”

“Just open it, Barnes.”

Conceding he pulls the paper out and lifts up the thick leather-bound journal and Montblanc pen held together with a simple ribbon. His initials are stamped on the front of the volume. He looks up at you with large eyes.

“To keep your memories.” Your smile is gentle as his fingers lightly trace the letters.

“Y/N… I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing at all of course. Now get out of here, we all need rest.” Steve smiles back at you from his spot near the front door.

Bucky just smiles as he puts the journal and pen back in the bag. “Goodnight, Y/N.” His embrace is solid and lingering, you breathe in his warm smell before letting go.

“Goodnight, both of you.”

Once they’re gone the house feels oppressively empty.

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 38

read chapter one

read on ao3

Magnus takes a bracing breath as he rounds the corner. Columbia comes into view and he scans the edge of campus warily, looking for any eager paparazzi lurking in the bushes.

The first time he’d dealt with them, he’d been a snot-nosed teenager, equal parts terrified and furious at the intrusion into his privacy. His father-- Asmodeus-- had taken care of him as best he could, however, even when in prison and Magnus still sent a Christmas card to his bodyguard at the time, the man who’d kept paps from getting too close until he’d graduated and fled New York altogether for several years.

He’s older and wiser now, Magnus thinks. He was made of sterner stuff than he’d known back then. Plus, he's well aware that this was the last real barrier between him and Alec. If this thing between them is going to work-- if they have a real shot at this-- then Magnus needs to come to terms, finally, with just what it means to be Alec Lightwood’s boyfriend.

Out of the frying pan, he thinks wryly and strides across the street, checking his watch.

His class is due to start in a little over half an hour and Magnus is just set to step onto campus when he hears the shutter of a camera a few feet away. He doesn't startle. No, instead he stares straight ahead as though he doesn’t know what’s going on and wonders distantly if the paps will follow him onto Columbia's grounds.

“Hey, Magnus! Mr. Bane!”

Magnus debates for half a second before raising cool eyes to the reporter. “That’s Dr. Bane,” he offers with an arch smile.

Looking both surprised and exalted that Magnus had actually acknowledged him, the man holding the camera bounds forward, far too close to Magnus.

Magnus switches his gaze from the man-- who looked to be in his early twenties and in desperate need of a haircut-- to the closest entrance to campus. He can see a few students standing at attention in the grass.

They’re carefully not looking at the scene unfolding but Magnus knows he has their attention.

“Dr. Bane, then, okay. Sorry, man. Want to give me the inside scoop to your relationship with Alec Lightwood?”

“No comment.”

“Come on, Magnus. It’s front page news and all anyone can talk about. A professor is the one who finally snagged the hottest bachelor in the industry.” He throws Magnus a cajoling smile, one that says hey we’re friends, right?

Magnus scoffs internally. Vultures, he thinks viciously. They’re all goddamned vultures.

He doesn’t respond and he’s less than a dozen steps from campus.

It’s a little surprising but Magnus isn’t feeling the edge of panic. He knows that it would undoubtedly be worse if he were surrounded, if there were a dozen paps circling him and cameras were flashing in his face. He still remembers some of those very scenes from high school and they make his heart lurch.

Journalists don’t care about their very unwilling victims. They’re leeches, trying to grab all the information and notoriety they can-- bleeding their target dry-- before moving onto the next poor bastard.

At seventeen, Magnus had been furious and overwhelmed. Now, he’s just tired. He’s tired of the sensationalism. He’s tired at the thought of dealing with this for the foreseeable future until something else happens that causes a scandal grand enough for him to be left moderately alone with Alexander.

It’s with the thought of his boyfriend-- his fucking boyfriend-- that Magnus finds solace. He’s doing this for Alec-- for them-- and that gives him some much needed strength. The pap dogging his heels is an annoyance at best.

After last night, Magnus needs to trust in Alec, in this thing they’re building.

God, he thinks, a little dizzy with the wave of overwhelming happiness that washes over him. He’d been been so terrified and worried about Alec’s reaction. He’d thought they’d had more time-- that he’d had more time before everything would come crashing down and that news report had shaken him, badly.

He knew how it looked and he could almost see their relationship go up in smoke with every damning word he’d read.

But Alexander, that lovely, amazing man, hadn’t been turned off. There had been no disgust or reprisals or biting accusations. Alec had been everything Magnus could have dreamed of and while he’d admitted more than he’d meant to in an angry rush of words meant to shock Alec as much as let him in, his boyfriend hadn’t been cowed.

No, Alec had accepted him and supported him and for that, Magnus will never stop thanking fate or whatever the fuck is responsible for bringing such a wonderful man into his life.

And after the conversation? Magnus shivers a little, though his thoughts are interrupted at the persistent reporter.

“You and Alec are together, right? I saw that Instagram post this morning and it certainly looked cozy.” His voice is smug, like he holds all the cards, and Magnus wants to wipe that smarmy smile right off his face.

He doesn’t deign to answer, though, and he’s just about to step onto campus when he spots a few paps standing several yards away. They don’t come any closer but their long-range lenses make it obvious they’re getting footage of him.

Jesus.

A little surprisingly, the journalist doesn’t try to follow him onto the grounds and Magnus is a little too relieved when he says, almost apologetically, “Columbia is private property. I’m not allowed to step onto campus or I-- and every other reporter who tries-- will be arrested for trespassing. The dean issued the warning to all local press yesterday afternoon.”

Magnus smiles a little but doesn’t say anything and he’s just passed the brick entryway when the reporter calls out.

He can’t quite help himself and Magnus turns back to look over his shoulder with a raised brow, expectant.

“I don’t know if you’re just an opportunistic bastard or if there really is something between you and Lightwood. Whatever the case, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Lowering his camera, the man steps closer, just toeing the sidewalk between the street and campus. For a bare second his expression looks earnest as he continues, “Alec Lightwood’s my favorite artist and I hope to hell that you’re sincere. If you are, watch out. Not all reporters are as chill as me. If you’re not, don’t worry. You’ll be found out sooner or later and this business isn’t known for anything so much as it is at chewing people up and spitting them back out, more broke and lonely and bitter than before. See you around, Dr. Bane.”

With that, the journalist turns away and Magnus watches him leave for half a dozen steps before he releases a heavy sigh.

Well, shit. He doesn’t know what the hell that just was but he can respect-- barely-- any pap who seems to care about Alec at all. Magnus wonders what the world really thinks and even as he knows it’s desperate naivete, he hopes that most people are either overwhelmingly apathetic or that they genuinely hope for the best.

He makes his way to his office without delay and places his briefcase on the desk. Taking out a sheaf of papers, Magnus wonders dryly that at least he’d gotten all caught up on his grading and planning yesterday, in the uninterrupted privacy of his loft as he’d waited for Alec’s reaction.

Taking a few moments to straighten up his office from where’d left in a hurry the morning before, Magnus presses the button for his voicemail absently as he sees the blinking red announcement.

He regrets it almost immediately.

He has twenty seven missed calls, all but one from reporters. They’re by turns earnest and snide and Magnus erases one after another as soon as he hears their voice.

The one call that isn’t a pain in his ass if from his editor at the University Press. They want an update on how his revisions are going for his book and he resolves to call them back in a few hours, after he’s finished his first class.

With that decided, he grabs his folder with today’s lecture on it and makes his way down to the classroom. He has his freshmen this morning and as he walks into Lowery Hall, he wonders what the next hour and fifteen minutes have in store for him.

Entering the room with a minute to spare, it goes dead silent as soon as the students catch sight of him.

He pretends that he doesn’t notice and goes to the front of the class. Rolling up his sleeves, he’s just opened his mouth to pick up where they’d left off when a hand goes up.

“Yes?”

The kid has a high grade in the class even if he’s usually on his phone during the entirety of Magnus’s lectures.

“Is it true that you’re dating Alec Lightwood?”

Magnus sighs internally as everyone promptly looks up at the question. The kid has the good grace to look a little chagrined but he doesn’t take his question back. No, instead he stares at Magnus, a little defiance in his eyes.

Surveying the room, Magnus sees that today’s class will be woefully off track and he’s already planning how to catch them all back up as he sighs loudly and leans against the table next to the podium.

Half sitting, he wraps his hands around the edge of the table, crossing his legs at the ankle.

“Now where did you hear that,” he asks wryly and watches as the everyone rolls their eyes. Some try to be discreet but some are blatant, laughing at Magnus’s last minute attempt at deflection.

“It’s all over, Professor Bane. Magazines, the internet, it’s literally everywhere.”

Magnus might detect a hint of apology in Greg’s voice but it has nothing to do with anything so he ignores it.

Nodding slowly, Magnus lets the silence of the room draw out before he admits, “I am dating Alec, Mr. Pritchard. We’ve been together for a little while, though we were friends first.” He scans the room. “Is that all?”

Another hand goes up, this time by Julia who’s wearing one hell of a poker face. “Can you tell us how you met?”

Laughing a little, Magnus nods imperceptibly to her. She’d kept her secret and Magnus is both surprised and grateful. She hadn’t told anyone about walking in on the two of them in his office and he knows that it had to have been burning at the tip of her tongue to keep that particular secret.

Humming thoughtfully, Magnus crosses his arms over his chest and grins at the room. “I was grading everyone’s midterms at this diner across town when I ran into him.” He raises a brow. “We started talking about how difficult it must be to know France’s timeline during WWI and, as they say, the rest is history.”

A few students laugh and the mood in the room shifts from something uneasy and hesitant to warm curiosity. Magnus finds that he can’t begrudge his students their desperate desire to know. It’s apparently the hottest news in town and they have a first hand source standing right in front of them.

He answers a few more questions and thankfully none of them are too personal. They want to know how long he’s known Alec and if he’s even more handsome in person and if he can hook everyone up with tickets to his next concert or an autographed album. It’s almost pedestrian, their interest, and it settles something in Magnus to know that not everything has to change just because he’s dating Alec.

Thankfully, he resumes his lecture after another fifteen minutes or so and everyone pays the same amount of attention that they would have before his personal life blew up. The back row still does a piss poor job of concealing their snores and the front row still faithfully scribbles down every word that comes out of his mouth.

His students are still his students and that means the world to Magnus. While it would have been an adjustment, Magnus would have changed his approach to teaching if necessary-- shut down inquiries about his personal life and become a little sterner in his classroom demeanor or even shifted his focus more onto his administrative role in the department, if things had come down to that.

It’s nice to see that he can still teach and that academia is still the safe haven it’s always been for him.

The rest of class moves forward at its regular pace and Magnus waves everyone off at the conclusion of the lecture with a quick, “Remember, there’s a quiz on Thursday about the readings! And your final is rapidly approaching-- I suggest you start studying now, if you haven't already.”

No one acknowledges him and he huffs out a laugh at the predictability of sleep-deprived eighteen year olds.

Gathering up his outline, Magnus grabs his phone from his pocket and sees that his notifications bar is fit to bursting.

He’s gained several thousand followers across both Instagram and Twitter but his attention snags on a text message from Raphael that confirms their weekly lunch date at Basil’s Cafe.

Smiling, Magnus slides his phone back into his pocket and leaves the room.

He hears the whispers that follow in his wake and feels the stares of both students and faculty as they land on his back. Strangely, he doesn’t feel cornered or put on the spot. While it is overwhelmingly obvious that they’re watching him, there’s also a sense of comfort.

Magnus has been a mainstay at Columbia for years and he’s cultivated a careful reputation as an excellent professor and colleague. There’s nothing malicious in the attention, just awareness. It doesn’t set his teeth on edge and that’s all he can ask for.

Back in his office, Magnus settles down in his chair with a sigh. It’s almost noon and he picks up his phone and calls his editor.

She picks up on the third ring. “Magnus,” she greets warmly. “How are things over there?”

Her tone is noticeably oblivious and Magnus rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard,” he replies dryly.

With a little laugh, Dot merely offers, “I didn’t want to make you feel worse if you were having a time over the reveal.” There’s half a beat of silence before she says, “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great. I’m in a relationship, the press haven’t been nearly as annoying as they could have been-- at least so far-- and my book is coming along quite nicely.”

“Is that so? You’ve finished the revisions, then?”

"I have,” Magnus confirms. “The ending is still a little rough but I’m throwing all of my focus onto the last third of the book next month. I expect I’ll have a finished final draft by the end of September.”

Dot’s voice is preoccupied as she responds, “With publication set for early spring, that works nicely. Send the latest draft via courier and I’ll have a look at it sometime next week. Is there anything else that I need to be aware of?”

“No,” Magnus says, eyes narrowed as he thinks back. “Everything is going very smoothly-- much better than it usually is at this stage when everything’s a dumpster fire and I seriously consider throwing my manuscript into the ocean and never thinking about it again. I’ll send it over to your office and you can tell me what you think, though.”

The two of them talk for a little while longer about shared acquaintances and life in general before wrapping things up.

“I’m happy for you, Magnus,” Dot says softly. “I hope Lightwood is the man you deserve.”

She sighs dramatically, “If only I hadn’t taken this job at UCLA. We might have gone the distance.”

Laughing, Magnus shakes his head as he leans back in his chair. “You and I were nothing but convenience in the city and you know it, dear. We would have killed each other if we’d kept at it. We’re too alike for our own good and our careers were too important to pay attention to anything else back then.”

“You’re right, of course. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have extraordinarily fond memories of our relationship a few years ago, though.” Magnus hears a distant knock before Dot rushes out, “I’ll talk to you later, Magnus. Send me any notes that accompany your draft and I’ll look things over soon.”

“Goodbye, Dorothea.”

The two of them hang up and Magnus sighs and takes a few minutes to stare up at his nondescript ceiling.

He and Dot had been like two ships passing in the night. They’d shared the same port a time or two but it had never been anything serious-- had never had the potential for anything more than a relationship of convenience. They’d both been running around New York back then, ready to take on the world, and neither had had the time-- or wanted to carve out the time-- to seriously make a go of whatever potential simmered between them.

Their relationship had slowly fizzled as they poured almost all of their energy into their careers and when Dot had accepted a position at the University of Southern California Press, Magnus had sent her an unforgivably extravagant bottle of wine as both congratulations and a send-off. Their working relationship had never deteriorated no matter their personal affiliation and at this point, the two of them were like a well oiled machine.

Magnus spends the next hour reading a few chapters in a book he’s peer reviewing for someone at Texas A&M before gathering his things and heading towards Basil’s Cafe to meet Raphael.

Campus is a little busier now that it’s August and the fall semester is set to start in just a few short weeks. Magnus only has two more weeks of summer classes left and as always, he’s struck with just how quickly time marches forward.

So much has happened this summer that Magnus doesn’t feel like he’s caught his breath in ages. It’s invigorating, though, exhilarating. His life is a bit of a whirlwind at the moment and now, at this point in things, Magnus feels on top of the world.

His career is moving along smoothly and he’s got a man across town that he’s head over heels for and he’s weathered his own personal hell. So far, so good and Magnus just hopes that he can keep his optimism afloat through anything else that’s thrown his way.

Basil’s isn’t quite so empty this afternoon but luckily Raphael had snagged a table in the corner, a little while ago it seems, if the papers spread out across its surface is any indication.

He doesn’t look up at Magnus’s approach, but merely offers, “Final projects are a pain in my ass,” as he writes something down in bright green pen.

Sliding into the booth, Magnus replies, “I know how you feel. My students have their finals in less than two weeks but they still stare at me, as vacant as ever. And then we only have a week until the whole thing starts over again.”

“Yeah, but we love it. God knows why but we do,” Raphael mutters and then tosses his pen to the side, next to the napkin dispenser, as he finally looks up at Magnus.

His look is remarkably disinterested on the surface but Magnus can feel the intensity. Sending his friend an arch look, he remain silent and finally Raphael speaks.

“How are you doing?” His voice is gruff but Magnus detects the edge of concern.

“I’m fine,” he says lightly and as he says the words, he scans the restaurant. Several tables are staring at him out of the corner of their eye and he watches impassively as a few phones hastily drop from where they were recording him.

Raphael sees the movement too and he scowls. “No one ever minds their damned business,” he grumbles before peering at Magnus, this time not hiding his intensity.

“Are you really alright? We can go somewhere else if you’d rather.”

Still feeling the focus of half a dozen camera lenses, Magnus just shakes his head, resolute. “I fear that wherever we go, I’d cause a spectacle. We might as well stay.”

With a fierce frown, Raphael mutters a curse under his breath.

Magnus can’t help but laugh, just a little, as he relaxes against the booth. “Oh, Raphael. Who would have thought we’d end up here.”

“Anyone with half a brain cell would put that together after the way you and Lightwood have been circling each other.”

Glaring halfheartedly, Magnus absently says, “Oh, hush you. You know what I mean.”

His gaze refocuses as it lands on one of his closest friends. He grins slowly. “Say,” he drawls. “I seem to remember Alexander mentioning something about you and Simon. What’s that about?”

His voice is innocent but Raphael, of course, sees right past it.

“Shut up,” is his only response, muttered under his breath and Magnus laughs, loud and bright.

“You and Simon,” Magnus muses. His eyes run over his friend, bemused. “He’s not who I would have picked for you but I suppose that it does make a kind of sense.”

“Whatever.” Raphael rolls his eyes but before he can say anything else, their waitress comes over.

They pass a lovely, uneventful hour in the middle of campus and Magnus lets himself relax.

The waitress has just taken their plates when a serious looks comes over Raphael-- which is saying something, considering his friend always looks perpetually dead.

“Really,” Raphael asks. “How are you doing?”

Magnus frowns a little as he thinks, gaze focused on his nearly empty cup of coffee.

“You know,” he says slowly. “I’m really doing okay.”

His gaze flips up to meet Raphael’s as he continues. “Yesterday was rough,” he admits. “I didn’t expect it to hit the news and I left campus in a hurry yesterday morning. I spent the day at home licking my wounds, though Cat and Ragnor both tried to talk some sense into me.

“Alec came over last night,” he quietly confides, looking around to make sure there isn’t anyone too close to overhear. “We talked things through and, well.”

He can’t contain his little smile at the memory of last night-- and this morning. “We’re good,” he says quietly. “Really good.”

He looks up, expecting to see Raphael’s face twisted into a sneer of disgust. He’s surprised then, when his friend is studying him with a warm expression.

“I’m happy for you, Magnus. If Lightwood makes you happy-- and if you can deal with everything surrounding that-- then I support you.”

“Thank you,” Magnus says, wry twist to his mouth. “Does that mean you’ll tell me all about you and Simon?”

“Not a chance,” Raphael replies flatly and Magnus laughs, something in him easing at the easy response.

The two of them leave soon enough and Magnus has just reached the door when he’s stopped by someone calling out his name.

Looking over into the restaurant, an older woman approaches him, hair dyed an unflattering shade of blonde.

“Magnus Bane?”

“Who wants to know,” he asks warily.

Sticking out a hand, she replies, “I’m a journalist for the New York Times. I wanted to know if--”

“Not interested.”

Magnus’s voice is cold, forbidding, and he shares a look with Raphael before they both turn away from the reporter and leave the cafe without a backwards glance.

“Shit,” Magnus mutters.

“I guess that’s the price for happiness,” Raphael says cryptically and they’re silent for a moment before Magnus blows out a breath.

“I suppose you’re right, Raphael. I suppose you’re right.”

All in all, it hasn’t been as bad as it could have been and Magnus is thankful for that. Still, he wonders when the story will die down, when he and Alexander will become old news.

There’s a piece of him that wonders if his life will ever return to its previous quiet or if he hasn’t just signed away his privacy for as long as his name stays linked with Alec’s.

He and Raphael head in opposite directions and Magnus spends the afternoon responding to emails and completing the regular mundane tasks that keep his history department running smoothly, including a few interviews for an open position as an adjunct professor and a meeting with a student he’s mentoring through their doctoral thesis.

He takes a break in the late afternoon and checks his phone, relaxing as he sees a few texts from Alec.

Recorded a few songs this morning and couldn’t help but think of you. Of last night.

I miss you.

I hope you're having a good day, babe :)

I’m about to walk into a meeting with my label. Wish me luck on the next three hours of demos and complaints and questions that they should already know the answer to, considering they work at a recording company

I know you can take care of yourself but call me if you need me-- if something happens with the paps.

Smiling at Alec’s rambling messages, Magnus replies quickly.

Good luck, darling, and try not to yell at anyone

I can’t wait to hear the demos…… :)

Let me know when you land in London?

Switching over to social media, he’s a little overwhelmed at the mentions. He can’t read all of them, but he scrolls through his feed, liking a few tweets before switching over to his notifications.

He’d read some of the comments on the picture Alec had posted that morning and they’d both been surprised at the overwhelming positive response. Now that Magnus is in his own account though, the reaction is much more mixed. As he reads through a few tweets that mention him-- he and Alec are trending-- he isn’t sure how to feel.

OMG that is such a cute picture!! Alec is a lucky man!!

Look at him, you can just tell he’s just using Alec for his money. He probably can’t even name a song by him

He looks like a gold digger tbh. I hope Alec’s smart enough to get away from him before he ruins everything

I thought more of Alec. I don’t even know what he could see in this Magnus guy wtf

I’m so happy for Alec and Magnus! I thought something was going on but I can’t believe they actually confirmed it! And that caption dfkghsdkfjg I’m dead!!!

Alec does love to make a statement dkfjghsdfg just catch me crying until the end of forever at the fact that he’s officially taken:((((

Magnus actually snorts a little at that last comment. He doesn’t interact with any of them but his mind is spinning.

He’d known that there would be a lot of backlash. Magnus isn’t stupid. He knows that to fans, no one is ever good enough for their favorite celebrity and when one added Magnus’s past? It was a recipe for disaster and vitriol.

There are some comments that make him wince and others that annoy the shit out of him. Some do make him smile though, and relax at both the fans' enthusiasm and creativity.

Everyone has an opinion and everyone believes themselves entitled to air it, no matter that the person they’re talking about might see it. No, Magnus thinks that most of the people hope that he reads their nasty comments.

Well, Magnus refuses to feel bad about being with Alec, not when he makes him so happy and not when they’ve reached a new understanding.

Last night had been everything that Magnus could have wanted. Alec had been so damned understanding and so hot and Magnus doesn’t remember sex ever feeling like that.

He’d been overwhelmed in the best goddamn way. Alec had been all around him, all he could think of, and he’d been glad that there hadn’t been any awkwardness this morning.

It still feels new. Alec was like a breath of fresh air and Magnus can’t help but think that he never wants to lose this feeling. He’d had a damned good life before Alec crashed into it but Alec brings something new to it.

Magnus doesn’t quite know how but Alec’s burrowed his way into Magnus’s chest in a way he half fears is irrevocable. Permanent. Most of his to bite his lip to keep his grin under wraps, though.

Losing himself in his meandering thoughts-- all of which center on Alec and last night and this new stage of their relationship-- he startles in the late afternoon sunshine when he focuses on the clock and sees that his senior seminar is set to start in ten minutes.

Thankfully, the class is just on the first floor of Bowman and as he grabs his notes, Magnus shakes his head ruefully to himself.

Alexander was proving to be one hell of a distraction.

He makes it to class right on time and sees that everyone’s on their phones, waiting on him.

“Good evening,” he greets and receives the usual lackluster response back.

This class was composed of ten seniors set for graduation at the end of the semester. They spent the entire term crafting a sort of miniature thesis. They were each responsible for a fifty page paper due the week of finals and they’re at the point now of peer reviewing and final revisions.

Magnus sympathizes.

The next three hours go by quickly as everyone works on their own papers and edits their classmate’s and come to Magnus for any questions. At this point, with only two weeks to go, Magnus is mostly taking a background role for revisions, answering questions about citing specialized primary sources, discussing ways to conclude a twenty thousand word historiographical essay, and generally making sure none of his students set themselves on fire in their frustration and sheer stress.

To his surprise, no one mentions the headlines and his place in them. It’s no different than any of their previous sessions and for that, Magnus is exceedingly thankful.

As a student comes over to him, asking about how she can incorporate a small piece of contradictory evidence to her thesis without undoing all of her previous research, something eases in Magnus.

He’ll always have this, he thinks. His life has been academia for so long and he couldn’t imagine it any other way. This is his lifeblood. He might have found something in Alec, but he can’t even contemplate losing this-- his students and research and place in the academic world.

It’s good to know that he doesn’t have to choose.

He gets to have it all and for that, Magnus is overwhelmingly grateful.

[fordarkisthesuede]

At the Brink of Midnight - Epilogue

This final chapter is dedicated to you, dear reader, but especially all of you who comment. You inspire me.

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(Read on Ao3 or continue below:)

Epilogue

Sacrifices have to be made, he told himself, You knew this had to happen one day. You knew this couldn’t last forever.

But he wanted it to. It was such a selfish thing, trying so hard to force the universe into his submission, just so he could have his way.

Parents always seemed immortal, and ever-present, until the rug was thrown from under your feet. Bruce knew that all too well.

He had to do this. Had to, had to, had to – or else turn his back on himself, on his city, on reality itself.

The ringing dials in his ear sounded like alarm bells. He pushed away the thought of just hanging up.

“Hello?”

Bruce felt his heart shake. He tried to take another deep breath, like the twenty he’d done before he managed to call.

“Bruce? Are you there?”

“Hey, Alfred...” (Oh God, that didn’t come out confident at all. He sounded like a sullen teenager.) “What are you up to?”

“Are you alright? You sound shaken.”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m okay, just… A lot’s happened since we talked.” Bruce shut his eyes and breathed deep, letting the familiar damp air of the Batcave fill his lungs. He heard the rush of the waterfall behind him and concentrated on that.

“And here I’ve been, actively avoiding the Gotham news,” Alfred commented dryly, “It’s…not anything major, I hope? Tiffany and John are alright? Wayne Enterprises is still standing?”

“No, no everything is…fine, at home. Tiffany and John seem a little better than normal, actually.”

“Well, that’s…good to hear.” There was a beat of silence, and Bruce found himself chewing his tongue. “What’s wrong, then?”

Bruce felt like he’d rather take another hit of Fear Toxin than go through what he had to say next. He’d do anything to keep Alfred in the dark, play a third life, and just lie and pretend it was all fine.

“A few days ago,” he started, trying hard to round up the bruising sensation in his chest, “A few days ago, John called me. From Arkham. He… He needed my help. There was a doctor there who’d been abusing patients. Using them as test subjects. So I thought… I thought I could be discreet.” His next breath was steadier. Perhaps it was just because he was relaying facts. “I tried to gather evidence, and got caught, and… I inadvertently broke John out of Arkham, when he was drugged with the doctor’s experiment. I had to take him here, find an antidote, and… I…”

It was quiet on the other end; Bruce could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“The doctor went on the run, and I couldn’t just be Bruce Wayne anymore, after that.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t have any evidence. I had to find it, and him, and I thought I could just…point him at the GCPD, and then he attacked the city! I couldn’t… I couldn’t be myself to take him down after that! I had to…!”

Bruce realized too late that he was crying. He hadn’t cried for so long. He’d held them in after the incident at Ace Chemicals. He’d held them in when Alfred threatened to leave. He’d held them in when John hurt him and soothed him upstairs in the parlor.

He hadn’t cried since he’d discovered the mess his parents left behind.

He thought of the gravestone he’d visited not an hour ago. It felt cold to the touch, as always, and he’d looked at it and told them he was going to pick up where he’d left off, cleaning the city from the inside-out, no longer choosing the hand to hold the sponge, but using both, one after another. He’d told them he wasn’t working alone anymore, too, with more pride than he deserved to have.

“Maybe… Maybe I did make some of my own enemies. I know I caused some of my own problems, and made others’ worse. But…if it… If it wasn’t for me – for Batman – the city would be suffering right now. I can’t… I can’t leave Gotham to fend for itself, Alfred. Please understand, I’m… I’m not alone anymore. It’s different. It’s not a crusade, it’s… It’s a choice.”

There was a slow breath of air over the phone. “I can’t say I didn’t see this coming,” Alfred resigned, “but I’d… Hoped foolishly, I suppose.” There was a pause, making Bruce feel the hot tear streaming down his cheek. There was no one there but himself to wipe it away, as always. “Bruce, you’ve always been a hero to Gotham, no matter what name you wear. Perhaps I was a little…presumptuous in saying you made your own enemies. Looking back, the likes of Oswald Cobblepot, Harvey Dent, Vicki Vale, the majority of The Pact – they would have always turned out rotten to some degree, even without the likes of Batman. Even with your attempts to help them; and I know you tried. You can’t seem to turn away from rushing into a burning building on the off-chance someone is still inside. But… That’s also why I’m so proud of you.” (Bruce felt his ribs shudder slightly, and he let his breath out slowly through his nostrils rather than risk the rattling breath of a sob.) “You’re the only Wayne to ever put their life into the city and not ask for anything in return.”

Bruce didn’t want to hope. He didn’t want to ask if Alfred was leading towards a good end. If he had learned anything at all over the span of his life, it was that Bruce did not get a happy ending. Not a real one.

“But you know I can’t come back. I can’t watch you hurt yourself night after night and wait around for the inevitable.” A beat. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Bruce. You’ll always be my ward. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Alfred.” Bruce felt like he was drowning, even though his voice was scratchy and rough from strain. (He would not openly sob over the phone. He was not a child.)

“Then let’s catch up properly on Saturday, shall we?” Alfred said in his dry, gentle tone, “I have a feeling the Gotham Gazette is only going to tell the last quarter of what sounds like a very long story, and I trust even an insomniac like you will need some sleep if someone as excitable as John was hanging about the manor for a couple of days.”

Bruce felt his head reel at the brief thought that Alfred somehow knew, but the feeling swept away almost as quickly when he realized his former-butler was merely addressing John’s energetic nature. “Okay,” he said in a short breath, sniffing.

“Good night, then, Bruce. Sleep well.”

Bruce let his father figure’s voice wash over him, even though he’d long since memorized the exact pitch and phrasing Alfred used when bidding him goodnight. “’Night, Alfred.”

Alfred hung up, and Bruce was suddenly faced with the looming reality of a very empty house above him and the uncomfortable thought that he could, under no circumstance, admit to his father figure that he was in love with the man who had been responsible for several deaths and the deep scar sitting on Bruce’s left side.

…at least not for a while.

*~*~*~*~*

As Commissioner Gordon had predicted, Arkham Asylum had been a complete mess on all of Wednesday. Even without Dr. Crane’s bomb threats, there was a constant parade of media outlets trying to get the story on “the insane doctor” and “the Batman/Joker team up”. John Doe’s lawyer was practically fending off the reporters with a stick as he consulted his client about the new charges brought to his name and advised him not to take interviews until everything was sorted. John apparently had enough reason to agree, since there were no new information on what had transpired at the train station, though Bruce felt it was probably reluctantly; John had mentioned in a conversation before that he always wanted to be on T.V. (Bruce remembered that talk very well, since John had mentioned an interview of him so old that Bruce didn’t recall properly until halfway through the discussion.)

Bruce had played the concerned, angry friend on Wednesday – both of the police officers that had been staking out his house hadn’t even left him a message before leaving, and of course he didn’t get the official word on what happened until he’d called up the GCPD himself as a concerned citizen. Then the Arkham staff told him over the phone to try again Thursday, as they were too busy to allow visitors to anyone amongst the chaos of officers and media outlets interfering with their schedules. He later apologized to those at Wayne Enterprises he inconvenienced by his absence and explained it away by oversleeping. No one batted an eyelash; they were used to that sort of behavior. It was at times like that when Bruce was rather thankful of his old reputation.

On Thursday, he had driven to Arkham early in the morning. The asylum in any hour looked gloomy, but somehow the rolling thunderclouds behind it that morning put Bruce back in mind of sharp spires and gargoyles and ancient, squealing locks long since discarded, and he felt almost like the place had been waiting for him to return. He was promptly told John wasn’t allowed visitors at the moment, despite Bruce’s display of growing concern over what had happened outside the asylum and his genuinely distressed demeanor. The swarm of reporters trying to get in stopped him from causing too much of a fuss; he was spotted anyway, and hustled back into his Gran Turismo without so much as a word. Even without the inevitable call to Alfred the night before, he felt miserable enough not to want to say anything to anyone he didn’t have to.

Finally, on Friday afternoon, he called into question the security measures surrounding the night of John’s escape, asking about how anyone could have supposedly snuck in or out of Arkham when the camera system should have had been still functional during the long upgrade process, even if it didn’t record anything. The receptionist told him she couldn’t possibly know the answer to that, and told the nearest orderly to escort Bruce to John’s room, muttering under her breath about how she wasn’t being paid enough.

Tom Welker, the guard responsible for checking him over, looked completely drained. When asked, he’d said he’d had a long shift, what with the slew of reporters coming in and out to interview staff, and the sudden loss of two staff members making everyone rush around and constantly need to be checked over. Bruce didn’t inquire as to who else was gone; his escort, Mark Sylvester, just scoffed at Tom. “Are you kidding me? We had one guy go all Hannibal on us and your little crush just call up and tell us to take her job and shove it up our asses. That’s not ‘losing staff’, that’s more like taking anvils to the damn chest!”

The journey up to the fifth floor was slow. Mark, thinking Bruce had no clue about what happened the night John escaped, told him in no uncertain terms that the security team in charge of Sunday night’s camera system upgrade had been getting an earful from everyone for allowing a complete blackout period rather than upgrading in slow steps. (Dr. Thomas had apparently kept quiet the fact that he signed off on the idea. Bruce didn’t exactly blame him, since he was already facing rumors that he hadn’t checked Dr. Crane’s background properly and skated over the psychological evaluation. Besides, Bruce was partially to blame for not asking about the blackout window in more depth, so why would he ever bring it up?)

Bruce feigned surprise and intrigue through the whole story, and once they landed on the fifth floor, he asked if anyone had known how John escaped.

“No idea,” Mark shrugged, leading the way to John’s room. “Dr. Leland asked him, and all he said was that the Batman helped him out. No one knows how – the guy’s been missing for six months, and we monitor Doe’s mail. It’s not like he can make any calls, either. Jerry says he swore he saw Batman on one of the towers last night, but I think the Bat has this place bugged. Wouldn’t put it past him, with that Lady Arkham stunt two years ago.”

Bruce felt the corner of his lip twitch. He had visited the asylum the past two nights in his gear, hoping someone would spot him. His idea had worked; and he’d seen John sound asleep both times, which he was sixty-percent sure was a good thing. He’d taken extra measures to modify the phone records the day John had called him, just in case.

They’d stopped at John’s door, and Mark knocked on the hard metal. “Visitor for John Doe,” he called in a bored tone before just opening the door.

John was carefully tearing a section of soft newspaper apart on his bed, not even bothering to look up.

“Hey, John,” Bruce said, doing his best to look concerned. It was difficult; seeing him made him feel lighter, like time was nothing, like there was something decent in the place that felt like permanent dusk had settled over it.

John perked up like a prairie dog, his face glowing like a one-hundred-watt bulb. “Bruce!” He exclaimed, tossing the paper aside. “Come in, come in!”

Mark frowned. “You know the rules, John, he can’t visit you in here – come on, hands behind your back.”

“Oh, come on, Mark, it’s just Bruce Wayne. It’s not like he’s going to bust me out,” he teased with a charming smile. “It’d be bad for his delicate image… Besides, I didn’t think I was allowed to see anyone but good ol’ Reginald for a week.”

Mark crossed his arms, patches of red blossoming on his cheeks. “Listen, you – you’re still in trouble for escaping, Bat’ or no Bat’. It ain’t punishment if I don’t do procedure.”

“But Maaark, I haven’t seen him in over a week, and I couldn’t tell him about Dr. Crane,” John pouted. “Some of that stuff is private… Besides, the power’s been going in and out all day – he’ll be safer in here with me than outside with everyone else prowling around,” John said in his sincerest voice.

(The power kept going out? It was the first Bruce heard of it…)

Mark narrowed his eyes, and seemed to be chewing on his tongue. “When I get back from my round,” he said slowly, staring at John with hard eyes, “I better see you sitting right where I left you. I don’t want to find a hair out of place on Wayne.” He shot his glare to Bruce, who tried his best to look innocently confused. “That goes for him, too, Moneybags, or I’ll be singing like a fucking canary.” He prodded his finger into his chest. “Not. One. Hair.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Bruce said with an honest, genuine smile. “I’m just here to visit my friend.”

“Yeah, well the last guy I trusted alone with our patients is being charged with criminal abuse,” Mark scoffed, “I’m only taking a chance because you’ve coming for so long.” He turned to leave, pausing to point between them threateningly. “Not one hair,” he reminded them.

“Not a one!” John said with a thumbs up and the most innocent, bright-eyed expression he could manage.

Then, of course, the orderly shut the door behind them, and Bruce heard the audible click of the lock, and there were barely two footsteps before John practically leaped up to wrap his arms around him.

It was actually a relief. Bruce didn’t care about the camera pointed at them – it wasn’t unusual to hug someone who had effectively been missing for almost three days. He refrained from being too affectionate, despite his instinct wanting to do nothing else but hold him there and kiss anything within reach.

He didn’t like admitting that his house felt empty, nor that he had been far lonelier than he had expected, nor that the feel of John pressed against him in any context made him want to hear him make noise. He didn’t know if he wanted comforting words or laughs or appreciative groans and sighs. Maybe all of it, in a rush of a sentence or two and brush of hands against sensitive areas.

Hell, he’d even take a terrible joke.

But for now, Bruce just enjoyed the warmth that seemed to spread in his veins, and hoped he would be able to remember that feeling for as long as he needed it.

“I missed you,” John mumbled against his shirt.

“I missed you, too,” Bruce whispered back, careful to keep his lip movements to a minimum in case they were being watched.

John snickered a little and pulled away, letting his hands slide over Bruce’s back and under his arms, heating his ribs. Bruce almost shuddered at the intimate touch, knowing full well what those warm hands on his bare back felt like. “They can’t hear us, you know,” he said, a teasing grin growing on his lips. “You can say some things aloud.”

“I can’t take chances.”

“Gosh, you’re paranoid… Fine. Have a seat, then, Brucie – what’s mine is yours!” John beamed, resuming his position on the squealing spring mattress. (Bruce was never going to be used to the sound of it. He was hoping to replace the whole facilities’ – it hadn’t been done in years.) “I’d tell you all about my little, ah, escapade, but I know you’re not here for that.”

Bruce dragged the wooden chair out of the corner to sit across from him. He didn’t like the implication that sitting on the bed brought – nor the temptation it sprung to mind.

(God, it’d only been two days and Bruce was already thinking about how loud that mattress could be under the right conditions. Maybe it was his brain’s desperate way to try and cope with reality.)

“What happened when you got back?” Bruce asked, thinking of the stolen Honda and the security guard’s I.D. he’d left behind for someone else to find.

“Well, Jerry and Honey don’t know I borrowed their stuff, so they still feel secure around me,” John said with a knowing smile, counting off on his fingers, “and one of the orderlies escorting me to Dr. Leland’s office asked me about the graveyard – he wanted to know what the Court thing was in the mausoleum – but that’s about it. I managed to convince them to let me have the newspapers from the staff room.”

Bruce cast a look at the section of newspaper John had been trying to tear, spying an old picture of himself. “Batman Returns? Hmm, not the most imaginative title…”

“At least the news finally got interesting again,” John said fondly, pulling several other pieces from under the pillow, “Here, have a look! I’d be crazy not to keep them! Or, uh, crazier…”

Bruce scanned the folded articles. John had been careful to make them as minimally torn as possible.

Train Bombing Derailed by Batman!

Batman Returns – Battles Psycho-Terrorist at Sky Rail

Diner Terrorist Brought Down by Dark Knight

Mad Doctor Thwarted by Batman…& Co’?!

Who is “Oracle”? – the Anonymous Third Party of the Terrorist’s Take-Down

Joker Returned to Arkham by Batman

Crane Captured – GCPD Thanks Batman and Associates

“Doctor of Fear” Deemed Insane Post-Batman Battle

Batman and Joker – the Team-Up that Saved Gotham?!

“You’re keeping all of these?” Bruce asked, smirking playfully. He wasn’t surprised the ‘Batman and Joker’ article had been the most carefully done out of the pile, being the entire front page of a tabloid. He was surprised at the picture on the front – someone had managed to get a photo of the two of them with the ambulance when they had been talking to Gordon, conveniently cropping out the Commissioner and placing text blocks over where he would have been. It was quite a good picture of John; Bruce made a mental note to find the picture online to keep, and another note to himself about looking into who had the telescopic camera lens. There was no way the police would have let a reporter beyond the tape on a crime scene like that, and even a paper like Gotham Moonrise wasn’t about to get that close to Batman. He would have been impressed if he hadn’t been deeply concerned about what else they might have seen.

(He reminded himself that the Batmobile’s windows were tinted for the very purpose of keeping out prying eyes and cameras. There was no way anyone could have known what had happened in there.)

Thankfully the only other ‘new’ pictures were all of a partially obscured Oracle and Joker, sitting and standing around the open end of the ambulance, talking to Commissioner Gordon and who Bruce guessed to be Officer Montoya. Bruce had seen these same sort of shots several times already for the past few days, along with John’s Arkham photo, the old picture of Joker with a Jokerrang, and what was now an infamous shot of a very distressed looking Jonathan Crane being carried away into an ambulance, his ‘Scarecrow’ hood just snatched off by an officer.

“What are the talking heads saying about us, anyway?” John asked, propping his elbows on his spread knees. “I don’t have television privileges yet.”

Bruce raised a brow at that, but answered anyway. “The usual, mostly. No one knows where you went for three days, everyone’s surprised to see Batman again, Dr. Crane’s gang are trying to make plea deals…”

“Are they calling Crane crazy yet?” John asked, the light in his acidic eyes probing and dangerous.

“Yes,” Bruce answered with a heavy sigh. “It seems his overdose of Fear Toxin has caused some permanent damage; the doctors at Gotham Central are saying he hasn’t stopped hallucinating, even with antipsychotics on top of the antitoxin. So until the evidence that he planned the attack on the diner and sky rail are made public, everyone’s saying he’s a psychopath.”

John was smiling, and Bruce tried not to find himself drawn to it. “Permanent damage, huh?” He perched his chin in his palms, eyes glinting like precious polished stones. “Can you say that again, but in a lower voice? I want to experience this wonderful schadenfreude with your dulcet tones.”

“No.”

“Can you say no lower, then? I love that intimidating voice you do,” he purred, not losing the spark in his gaze as he shifted to resting his head in only one hand.

“John, don’t start.”

“Why? Afraid you can’t stop if we do?” His free hand drummed his knee, one finger after another, all bony whites that Bruce knew the feel of. (It was not the place or time to think about that. Bruce pushed the thought aside.) “You shouldn’t feel guilty, Bruce. It’s not evil to enjoy a monster getting what he deserved. Besides, he did it to himself! His hubris is nothing to feel bad about!”

Bruce swallowed. He couldn’t allow that feeling.

“Then again, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t brood over it a little,” John added.

The lights flickered. Bruce cast a look up at the ceiling light. It hadn’t blown, and it wasn’t making any odd, concerning noises.

“They’ve been going in and out all day,” John said, not bothering to look up. “I think they plan them. They’ll flicker like that every fifteen seconds, and then after four flickers, the power will go out for seven minutes.” The light flickered again. “I think they’re trying to blame the electrical system for the camera debacle.”

“They’d have a hard time doing that. I looked at the inspection reports myself.”

John tittered. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” he muttered, “We can play the hardcore version of ‘seven minutes in heaven.’”

“John,” Bruce grunted, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “no. Absolutely not.”

John cackled to himself, sounding far more genuinely amused than anything. “I was kidding, Bruce! Gosh, give a guy some credit – I know you’re not into public exposure!”

Bruce felt his face heat uncomfortably, and then the lights flickered twice and went off. He shot a look at the camera posed above the door – the power was definitely out.

“Oh, while I have the chance…” As quick as a whip, John sprung off the bed and rummaged around in the middle drawer of his dresser. Bruce watched unabashedly, even as his conscience reminded him that this was not the time or place to be eying him up.

And just like that, John whirled around with his arm outstretched, a postcard in his hand. “I found this by the door Thursday morning!” Bruce took the card; it was a vintage design of a black cat with a suitcase and the phrase ‘I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way’. “I think it’d be safer if you kept it, though,” John explained, resuming his seat but with his legs bouncing slightly over the edge of the bed. “I only have so many hiding places in here.”

Bruce flipped it over and read:

John -

Thanks for the wake-up call. I don’t think anyone else will benefit from having a gun pointed at their face in the same way I have.

Please tell Bruce I’m sorry, and that I appreciated his attempt to help.

J.L.

P.S. I’ll drop you a line when you get out. Hopefully by then I can net you free tickets to whatever I’m doing. Just don’t expect Shakespeare.

The address section had John’s name and room number above a jack-o-lantern drawn in pen.

“I heard one of the doctors saying she’d called on Thursday to resign,” John said. “Apparently she didn’t even show up on Wednesday! I bet she snuck in late.”

Bruce tucked the card into his pocket, knowing he was going to put it right above the jack-o-lantern mask in the new case he’d brought down to the cave; it was next to Crane’s, where the little plastic scarecrow from his office sat below an empty spot waiting for his burlap mask. “Still have your ear to the ground, huh?” Bruce smiled.

“You need every advantage you can get in this place,” John answered with a shrug and shrunken smile. “I had to tell Dr. Leland your other half broke me out, and now all the security guards think you’re some kind of ninja.”

“I did take some pointers from them,” Bruce smirked.

John cast a look down at the bandage on the back of Bruce’s hand. “Not enough, apparently. You don’t hear of many ninjas who cut themselves.”

“You left one of your throwing cards in the car. It was the Two of Hearts, ironically enough,” Bruce explained, wondering if the twisted metaphor of being cut by that card’s literal razor edge was worth considering.

John reached out to caress the back of his hand, all playful and affectionate. “Sorry, Brucie. How can I make it up to you?”

Bruce pushed aside the desire to kiss him, or hold him, or do anything at all that would comfort them both in their old, dark homes.  

Instead, he asked what had been laying at the back of his mind for two days. “Have you heard anything about Crane coming here?”

“I have, as a matter of fact,” John said with a grin that widened and sharpened by the moment. “It’s just a rumor, but they say he’ll be isolated in Art’s room until he gets moved to a ‘safer’ institution. Now isn’t that just a co-inky-dink? Our dastardly doctor being locked up with his test subjects, in the room of a man he’d murdered…?”

Bruce was terribly reminded of when he had stayed at Arkham. He could see strings of a path laid out already, if that rumor was true, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Crane was found dead within a day of his admittance. He trusted John – he loved him – but John was clever enough not to get himself caught with the knife in his hand. Like the incident with Zsaz, he’d get someone else to make the mess, and knowing the extent to what Jonathan Crane had done to his patients, Bruce almost wouldn’t blame him for watching from the sidelines.

“Don’t look so paranoid, Bruce,” John said with a lesser grin, taking Bruce’s hand in both of his, “It’s just a rumor. We’re safe in here, all nice and bolted in. Besides, Art’s old room has been occupied for two weeks. And even if Crane was here, didn’t I tell you before that I respect you?” His fingers smoothed over skin, the light in his eyes softening. “That I love you?”

Bruce only stared back at the little imperfections in the slivers of John’s acid greens, anger and familiarity and warmth all mingling together in his stomach. He’d tricked him, testing to see if he could put Bruce on edge and make him wonder at what-ifs, reminding him just what John was capable of. ‘Joker’ seemed so appropriate a name for him just then that Bruce felt it on his tongue.

“We’re two threads in the same stitch, Bruce,” John muttered adoringly, leaning in close, “I’m not about to break that when I still want to see what shape it makes.”

It was like a chemical reaction, with the bubbling heat in him combusting, and Bruce gave in and kissed him, the nerves in his mouth lighting up on contact. He reminded himself that they had mere moments before the power returned and that this might be the last time he got to touch John for months.

It was eerily quiet in Arkham, and Bruce felt like he could hear every minute noise outside in-between memorizing the sound of John’s breaths and the way their lips sounded as they moved together. Footsteps, murmurs, a cart wheeling down the hall – all there, all ordinary background noise that drove home the reality of where they were.

He reminded himself that they were not back at square one, that the cycle of ins and outs of the asylum was not shaped like Ouroboros, that they had started a new line for their paths to go off to, and that they were not alone and soon they never would be.

And just as quickly as it had begun, it ended, just like the time they had together always seemed to. Bruce pulled away, his internal timer almost at zero, and John sat back with the same glassy-eyed look from Bruce’s bedroom, when he told Bruce he loved him.

“Get out soon,” Bruce muttered to him, every part of his body aching to just sign the papers to release him into his custody. “Please, get out soon.”

John just laughed like it was a joke. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

*~*~*~*~*

Notes: This is the first multi-chapter story I’ve ever finished in my life. I feel so satisfied and yet…a little empty, too. I’ve spent so much time working on this story – (I literally marathoned all of Gotham while writing the first six chapters, starting in March of this year) – that there’s a now a “well what do I do now” lingering around, even with other projects staring at me in the face. I know that feeling will go. Inspiration has thankfully struck me for those other projects, and new ideas will no doubt shake my shoulder and go “dude have you seen this shit your imagining, you gotta make this.” I already have some I know you guys will like, even though the question of when I’ll write them, let alone post them, is one I can’t answer.

To all those thinking that they’ll never finish their own work:  Yes you can. Ask yourself what’s stopping you from writing that section that you struggle with, and change it. Don’t erase a scene if you’re unhappy with it; start fresh and keep it separated from its predecessor until you work out the kinks. Remind yourself that your audience, be they loud or quiet, are waiting for you. And most importantly, let your spite fuel you in small doses and your love and intrigue fuel you in large ones.

And so, I leave this story here, with a full heart and a more optimistic outlook on the future. Come what may of TellTale – Batman Season 3 or no – we’ll always have the time we spent together here, and I wouldn’t trade that for all the “Kiss John” opportunities in the world.

[lxveille]

under a foreign sun

the8 x reader

word count: ~ 4200 warnings: some suggestive themes / physical intimacy a/n: a 100 ways request (minghao + 100); sci-fi au

The air is thick and hot on your skin as soon as you come to consciousness. You already wish you hadn’t woken and you’ve yet to even move a muscle. Soonyoung and Chan have the radio on in the next room over, and you have half a thought to shout for them to turn it up. Except your mouth and lips are too dry to summon the will to even try. So instead you strain to hear what the morning broadcast is saying without even opening your eyes.

From what you can make out, nothing of your circumstances have changed. Communications back to the Alpha station are still down. Repairs on the EcoBal system are still underway. They report is as being more successful repair rates than anticipated, given that they’ve restored all critical system functions in 82% of the units that experienced outage after the recent solar storm. The numbers on how many people perished still haven’t been released. There’s no way to estimate either, given that they haven’t even announced which units were the worst impacted.

All units remain still in self-contained lockdown until further notice.

You finally push yourself up from the sweat-soaked sheets and make your way out to the common room. Chan turns the radio off as soon as he spots you, as if afraid that whatever the reporter will say next could be exactly what you’re afraid of hearing.

“Temperature regulation is still out for us,” he says as means of greeting.

“Really?” you answer is a monotone, “I wouldn’t have guessed.” If not for the grueling heat, your might have genuinely meant it as a joke. Chan’s shoulders sink some, his uneasy smile falling into an expression that’s just obviously concerned.

Soonyoung takes it as his cue to pop up from his seat and bring a half-full water bottle over to you. He’s asking if you slept alright and telling you about a strange dream he’s blaming on the persisting heat all in the same breath. The energy that he has in this circumstance truly is impressive. The heat has him in a tank top, which means you can clearly see all of the tattoo on his upper arm. It reads with his full name above the insignia of the former presiding commander of Alpha station and L.Y. Penal Colony beneath it. The sight of it is an unwelcome reminder right now, not only of what your current home had been up until only two years ago, but of someone else the lockdown is keeping you from with a nearly identical tattoo on his own arm.

Except his reads Xu Minghao above the insignia Alpha station is doing its best to cleanse its memory of.

The first time you met Minghao, you still had been a little reticent of your neighbors bearing that now-taboo symbol.

It had been one thing joining the protests on Alpha station and celebrating when a new Commander was installed. All those efforts had felt justified when it was declared that Lilili Yabbay would be transitioned from a prison to a colony for the general populous. But it had been an entirely different thing to enter into the winding, tunneled system of artificial habitats and find oneself sharing them with people who, at some point or another, been banished as criminals.

He had, of course, seen right through your hesitance. He’d jerked his head to one side quickly to get dark hair out of his eyes without needing to dig his hands out his pockets and smiled a bit as he said, “Let me guess, when you signed up to join the new colony, you didn’t really think any of us old inhabitants were gonna stick around?”

“That’s not it,” you protested, feeling disarmed in the middle of the new non-fiction section of the library you’d volunteered to help stock. Whether it was your words or the look on your face that made Minghao’s lips slant further upwards, you may never know.

“Then what is it?” he’d asked. Worst of all, he then proceeded to act as if he hadn’t said a thing at all, bending over to pick up another book and find a place for it on the shelves.

It was that Minghao didn’t seem to fit any image you’d had of what the exiled inmates of Lilili Yabbay would’ve looked like. He radiated with an ease and confidence you would’ve thought would’ve evaporated out of anyone made to endure the injustices he must have gone through. Unless he hadn’t actually been wrongly imprimposed as so many had been under the old regime.

“Well -- I guess I did think you wouldn’t really want to stick around the place you were banished to,” you replied instead. Minghao hummed, like you’d just admitted to exactly what he’d already said.

“So we’d wanna go back to the place that banished us?”

“Things have changed since you were sent here.” It felt like a point of pride, since you had been one of the voices demanding change.

“Things changed here too,” Minghao retorted without looking up from the spine of the book in his hands.  At least not until the last word that he tacked on; an afterthought that also sent his sharp gaze back to your face, “Clearly.”

His eyes upon you didn’t feel as harsh anymore. No longer a callout on some kind of deep-rooted hypocrisy on your part, but a dose of genuine curiosity directed your way. And that, if anything, made you feel all the more need to look away from him yourself. To this day, you swear that right after you diverted your gaze was the first time you heard one of Minghao’s suppressed chuckles.

He could have left it at that. Instead, he caught you on your way out of the library to ask if you wanted to go out with him sometime. He told you later that five years as a prisoner was enough to make him throw aside hesitancy. And you admittedly similarly that at least half the reason you said yes was out of a misplaced sense that you had to prove you weren’t scared of him.

He took you out for dinner and insisted upon paying. It had been a lapse in better judgement when you asked if he really had the money for it. But he hadn’t been shaken by your question in the least. Rather, he turned right around and gave you pause by shrugging and admitting, “Recompense can cover a meal, at least.”

Minghao watched you shift in your seat and take in the reminder of his past. He leaned forward in his chair some, like he was about to tell you a secret, and added gently, “You can ask me about it, if you want.”

Some part of you couldn’t help feeling it was a trick question. You stared at the glass of water in front of you on the table. Suddenly every inch of your surroundings felt like proof that this planet’s settlement hadn’t started out with such pristine conditions and well-meaning intentions. “Would you really want to talk about all that?”

“Does it really seem like I’d really rather deny any of it happened?” There’s no callousness or accusation in the words he sends back your way. Only a perspective you hadn’t quite considered.

You willed yourself to look him in the eyes at that. They struck you as gentle. Earnest. Inviting, even, if you could let yourself accept them as being such. “Tell me all you want, then.”

So he did. How he’d helped distribute reformist pamphlets on Alpha station, calling for the resignation of the commander and for the shutdown of the penal colony that had been mistreating its inhabitants since its establishment decades earlier. How being caught with them in his room had resulted in being tattooed and sentenced to life at the age of fifteen.

And you appreciated anew how there had been a certain amount of safety in numbers when you had joined the most recent group that had called for a change in power.

“Can I show you why I really didn’t want to leave, when they told me I had been exonerated and could go back up to Alpha?” Minghao asked towards the end of the meal.

Which is how you ended up walking, for the first of many times, to the southernmost unit to watch the closest star set on the horizon of clay-colored hills. You’d stepped close to the clear outerwall of the colony’s enclosure and pressed one hand to the plastic surface with wide eyes. It was unlike anything you’d witnessed before: the sky alight with deep greens and violets that stood in stark contrast with the gray overhead and the muted tones of the earth all around. “It’s nice, right?” Minghao had asked. For the first time, he’d sounded nervous. Uncertain. It was only the need to reassure him that had you tearing your gaze from the setting sky.

All you could summon to say to do as much was a simple, “It is nice.”

If the way Minghao smiled was anything to go off of, that much was enough.

Soonyoung jolts you back to the present with a reminder not to drink everything in the bottle. You mutter an apology and hand it back to him before carrying on your way to the small kitchen of their living quarters.

It had been a mistake of timing, you tell yourself, that lead to you not knowing where Minghao is now. Not knowing if Minghao even is anymore. You had come to this unit looking for him only to be told by his roommate that he’d just stepped out. Not long after that, there’d been a surge in the electricity and warning alarms going off to signal that the connecting doors between units were shutting for emergency purposes. Four days have passed since then.

You’ve gone longer than this without seeing Minghao over the course of the past two years. Usually during trips taken back to Alpha station to see your family. It’s never made your stomach as queasy as it does now.

It takes three more days before the alarms sound once again to signal the connecting doors are opening between units. They didn’t sound without there first being a list of the units that had suffered critical power outages given over the radio. You sit on the floor with Soonyoung and Chan during the announcement. None you manage to quite look at each other directly. They don’t say it directly, but all three of you know what the case must be. ‘Critical’ includes airflow and oxygen supply. The list of affected units is the colony’s way of breaking the news gently on how many casualties the outage saw.

The trouble is none of you know where Minghao was when the solar storm struck.

You had been seeing Minghao for three weeks when he finally brought you back to his living quarters for the first time. By then, it felt like he had managed to kiss you in every unit of the colony except the one he lived in. There was a seed of frustration in the pit of your stomach already with how fleeting those more tender moments had been, and how chastely at least half of those kisses had been placed upon a cheek or knuckles of your fingers.

He had one hand still tangled with yours while unlocking the door. The light on the panel turned to green, but Minghao hesitated before pushing it open. A warning or a second chance for you to back out was about to come spilling out of him when a third voice interrupted, demanding to know if it was Minghao or a break-in.

Which is how you met Soonyoung, with his grins that somehow always had a tinge of mischief and his insistence on wearing long-sleeves almost constantly. (It had only been by Minghao’s own admission of how the two of them met that you discovered Soonyoung had been a prisoner once, as well. Naturally, your second question had been about what he could have possibly done to warrant the exile. Minghao proceeded that answer with a reminder that hardly any of the sentences to Lilili Yabbay were warranted. As he explained it, it was Soonyoung’s cheeriness and charms that had gotten him caught in the wrong person’s bed. Only a crime because the old commander decided entirely on his own that there was no way his own child would choose to be with someone like Soonyoung.)

“So nice to finally meet you!” Soonyoung shook both your hands at once, clasping your palms together between his own in a gesture that seemed entirely too enthusiastic for just greeting you. “I wanna say I’ve heard a lot but I promised Hao that I wouldn’t embarrass him when he finally introduced us,” he rattled off, and you almost thought you saw him send a quick wink Minghao’s way. For his part, Minghao looked rather like this was exactly the outcome he’d been afraid of. Oddly, it was relief that washed over you in that moment.

“It’s good to meet you, too,” you answered with a slight laugh shaking your words. Once Soonyoung let go of your hands, a more familiar hand came to rest on your shoulder with Minghao’s arm slung around your upper back. A casual thing and a kind of declaration all in one. You could read it on his face. He was happy, despite his roommate’s gusto, to have you here. To be able to have you here in the first place.

Some time after the introductions, Soonyoung announced that he was going to head over to Jun’s -- a further extension of Minghao’s circle of friends you would come to know well over the years to come. He asked if the two of you wanted to come along too. Minghao shrugged and left the decision to you.

Your decision gave you and Minghao your first chance to be alone together. Properly alone. Though it was the together part that became more significant by the end of the night.

The details of who did exactly what have blurred with time. Had it been your small trail of kisses from his lips to his jaw that settled it, or was it the way Minghao’s hand had traced down your spine and pulled you closer by the pelvis?

Either way, there are some things that remain clear in your memory. The low, warm lights of his room, to begin with. And the line of painted sunsets hanging over his bed. A hobby you hadn’t known he had until that night. One you were distracted from asking him about by how carefully he undid ever fastening of your clothing. He moved as if a single wrong move would shatter the moment. He was standing behind you when your shirt had fallen to his floor.

Your eyes were on the centermost painting of abstract swirls and splatters of muted pastels against stark, black outlines of the planet’s landscape. Even as his lips pressed to your nape, you found yourself unable to look away. Minghao’s arms came around your exposed torso, his chin resting on your shoulder for a moment as he tried to follow your line of sight.

“Are you okay?” he asked, fingertips pressing worried circles against your skin. Nodding hadn’t been enough for him. He stood up straight, pulled himself away from you and frowned as he repeated the question.

“I didn’t know you painted,” was the only thing you felt could be said to explain your state. He looked away from you to look over the small collection that had captured your attention.

He climbed half onto the bed, one knee sinking into the mattress as he leaned forward to point to one hanging at the one end up the line. The paper his finger tapped had a an entirely different aura than the one you’d been stuck on, despite the content being the same. The painted earth was light, blending more into the sky of colors in such a way that it was difficult to even tell in places where the hillocks ended and the bursts of color from the setting star began. The colors themselves were different too. Still blends of pinks and greens and purples, but brighter and richer.

“This is the most recent one I did,” he told you.

You reached out for him after that, and he pulled you up to join him in a kneeling position on the mattress. “I’m okay,” you answered him at last, arms curling around him and hands coming to rest upon his shoulder blades.

With that reassurance, he kissed you for longest he had yet.

There’s no official protocol or even an informal plan that the two of you ever made for a circumstance like this one. The risk of a shutdown of the colony’s support systems was something that everyone has always been aware of, to at least some extent. There were those who said the risk was half the reason the settlement was declared for prisoners in the first place. Who, they argued, would mind much if those declared dangerous enough not to remain on Alpha were deprived of oxygen?

But decades had passed without more than a flicker of lights within Lilili Yabbay. So for whatever the risk was, you hadn’t seriously considered it. Making plans of what to do when the doors opened after the shutdown would have required actually believing the units would ever be cut off from each other in the first place.

Soonyoung insists that you’re welcome to stay in the living quarters, just as you had been doing for the past week. “He’ll come home first,” he reasons. It sounds believable enough to you, so you accept his continued hospitality. And shortly after, you’re left alone in the common room as Soonyoung leaves with Chan to see just how bad the damage is in the unit where the younger’s living quarters are located.

You’ve never been on your own here. It’s always at least been you and Minghao.

Like it had been a week ago, before the solar storm struck. When you woke up in the same bed lined with paintings as you’d been invited to use during the shutdown. Half-dressed and half-awake, you’d hummed out morning greetings and questions of how he’s slept as Minghao’s fingers roamed in nondescript patterns over your form.

“I had a good dream,” he told you in sleepy tones. He turned onto his stomach, propping himself up on one arm to get a better look at you. His wandering hand came up to your face, tracing the line of your jaw delicately as he took in your features carefully.

“What happened?” you asked, waking up slowly to his gentle touches.

Minghao kissed you in lieu of answering. It had been an unhurried kind of kiss. A languid and wet thing you could’ve settled into for ages. His tongue warm and a little bitter from sleep inside your mouth. When he pulled back, his eyes were still trained on your expression with an attentiveness that made you want to sink further into the sheets.

“Was that all?”

He shook his head in response, and told you what his dream had really been about.

You shake yourself before you can remember his words. Before you can reminisce on the way everything unraveled from there. Or how that morning had ended with you pulling on clothes in a hurry and saying you needed time to think.

It crosses your mind to blame his dream for the fact the two of you had been separated during this shutdown. The question he’d asked at fault for how unsure you are if Minghao is even alive today. But it’s not really a fair assessment to make.

The only thing your really have a right to blame is your own panic and hesitance. 

When you hear the front door open, you don’t get up from the spot you’d sunk to at the foot of Minghao’s bed. You don’t look up from the spot of light reflecting on the tiled floors that you’ve locked your gaze onto.

You haven’t been keeping track of time. An intentional, self-preserving decision. If you were, there’s no doubt that every passing minute would feel like an eternity. This way, at least, it may still the torture of uncertainty, but without the added wound of time.

It’s unusual for Soonyoung to come in without making a loud announcement of his arrival. But for all you know, he’s just seen something horrific while bringing Chan home. With that thought, you suppose you ought to offer yourself as some kind of shoulder to lean on. No matter how poor a source of comfort you’re certain you’ll be, it will have to be better than leaving Soonyoung to deal with it on his own.

Your limbs feel heavy when you push yourself to your feet. The weight of dread, if you had to guess. You make your way to doorway of Minghao’s bedroom and find yourself drawn to a standstill as soon as you’re looking out into the common room.

From where you are, you can see a familiar black jacket that must have dropped on the floor and the open door into the bathroom. The water in the sink is running, and bent over in front of it is a frame far lankier than Soonyoung’s has ever seemed. Your throat dries out; your hopes refusing to life despite the evidence in front of you.

The water shuts off and the tall figure pulls up to its full height. When he turns around, he’s still pressing a towel to his dampened face.

Minghao looks tired. Like he hasn’t slept well or perhaps even properly at all since the shut down. He is disheveled, with stains of sweat or oil or something altogether different across his shirt.  He finds your figure, staring agape under the archway leading into his room, and the washcloth in his hands slips to the floor.

Not a single word makes it out of him before he can make his way in quick, certain strides across the space of the common room left between the two of you. For all the exhaustion so evident on his face, he looks like a man on a mission. Once his feet have brought him to the spot right in front of you, there’s a waver in his expression that makes you fearful he’s about to topple over and collapse altogether.

Your arms reach out for him as if in response to that fear. With an exhale of your name, he pulls you even closer. His clothes are carrying at least a dozen unpleasant scents, but in the never crook of his neck you find the familiar smell of Minghao himself. His hands splay on your back, seeking purchase and utterly unable to decide where to hold you all at once.

Through shock and relief, something urgent surfaces in your mind. You mutter his name against his damp skin twice over before he gives a small, throaty noise of acknowledgement.

“Do you remember what you asked me, that morning?”

Minghao tenses at the question. Which must mean he does, indeed, remember. Moreover, that he remembers the reaction you had to it.

It feels like a good time to be looking him in the eye, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from his embrace. “Can I still answer it?” you carry on, taking his silence reaction as confirmation enough that he knows what you’re referring to.   

“Of course,” he replies, voice deep and laden with fatigue. “I love you,” he adds after a moment, either as reason why the question still stands or as a reminder of why he’d asked in the first place. Both, maybe, is the most honest explanation for the sudden admission. It’s far from the first time Minghao’s said those words to you. But it’s the heaviest they’ve ever felt; the most they’ve ever felt like they could make your heart burst and send you to tears and smiles in equal measure.

“Then I’m saying yes.”

Minghao leans back a bit. It’s the only way for him to try to get a look at your face without having to unwrap his arms from around you. With this proximity, you can see how chapped his rounded lips are and can catch every glimmer of disbelief in his eyes. You nod and tell him that you’re certain of it before he can form the question himself.

He sinks to his knees, nearly an exact mirror of how he had a week ago in the early morning when he’d asked if you’d marry him. It’s hard to say if it’s from some overwhelming emotion or a sign of him giving in to how exhausted he truly is. Either way, you follow him down, arms encircling his shoulders and murmuring quick, desperate reassurances.

One of his arms slings over your hips again before he lets himself collapse on to one side, lying with you in a tangled embrace on the floor.

“I love you,” he repeats, his eyes closed and the faintest smile angled upon his lips, and it sounds like the only thing left that matters.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Golden Circle

Three times Tony spent time with May & Peter, and the one time he couldn’t. Previously

ii.

Peter glanced behind his shoulder, surprised to see that Mr. Stark had followed him out of the car and into the shop.

“Hey, Mr. Delmar,” he greeted as usual.

He expected a question about his aunt but there was only silence and it was obvious why. Mr. Delmar was staring. On the other hand, Mr. Stark continued to peruse the candy bars on display but after a while, even he noticed that he was being stared at and looked up.

“Hi,” Mr. Stark grinned unperturbed, used to people reacting that way to him.

“Hey, man. You’re… Tony Stark.”

“The one and only,” Mr. Stark extended his hand for a shake.

“Iron Man,” the store owner breathed in awe, “in my store.”

Mr. Stark nodded, still smiling.

“So, you know this kid? Saw you came in with him.”

Glancing over at Peter’s direction, his mentor gave another nod. “Sure do.”

“What’s a kid like you doing with Tony Stark?” Mr. Delmar asked, genuinely curious. “How’d you know him?”

“From internship,” Peter muttered, maintaining that cover story. “Can I get the usual sandwich to go? Squish it real flat for me, please. Oh, and the usual for my aunt, too. Do you want anything, Mr. Stark?”

“Give me, uh, your number six.”

“Got it and squish it flat, sir?”

“Oh no, don’t,” Mr. Stark shook his head.

A cloud of judgment crossed his face as he tossed Peter a look but Peter only shrugged. He liked his sandwich flattened.

Since it would be odd to pay only for his and May’s sandwich, and odder still to ask Mr Stark to pay for his own, Peter fished a crumpled twenty dollar note out of his pocket for the three sandwiches. He handed the bill over only to feel Mr. Stark’s hand on his wrist, stopping his movement. His mentor pulled out a fifty, the smallest denomination he had on his person.

“The change’s for the next couple of sandwiches the kid wants after school,” Mr. Stark instructed.

“Oh no that’s fine, Mr. Stark, I – “

“Learnt to accept things, kid,” Mr. Stark muttered before turning on his heels out of the store.

Peter was grinned, grabbed the sandwiches off the counter which Mr. Stark had clearly left for him to take. He didn’t understand Mr. Stark’s discomfort with being handed things but he didn’t want to pry at the same time.

He caught up with his mentor and for the second time that day, was surprised when Mr. Stark walked with him towards the direction of his apartment across.

“You don’t have to – uh – come with, Mr. Stark. It’s just there, I’ll be fine.”

“You called me from school,” Mr. Stark pointed out. “And technically, I’m supposed to make sure that you get home safe and you won’t be out gallivanting on the streets when you’re supposed to be in school. That’s what a responsible adult would do, right?”

Peter turned red. He had indeed called Mr. Stark. He could call May, of course, but that would mean pulling May off from work for something he did and he didn’t want to have to explain to May about what he was doing when the explosion took place in the science lab. It had only just been him and Ned at the back of the class and no one had been hurt but his chemistry teacher had still been shaken by it and Ned had tried to explain Peter’s experimental web fluid away as best as he could while Peter cleaned up the half prepared webbing off him in the washroom.

Suffice to say, Mr. Stark had not been impressed.

Ned’s ‘Peter accidentally added a little too much of hydrochloric acid’ was flimsy at best, and Mr. Stark had taken one look at them and reminded them that creating web fluid in school was the easiest way to expose Spider-Man’s identity.

“I guess so,” Peter shrugged.

“I might as well take a look at your suit. Can’t do that in the car.”

“You’re not going to …,” Peter bit his bottom lip, twiddling his thumbs nervously. “You won’t tell May what happened, right? Please don’t tell her.”

“We good on that promise that nothing of that sort will ever happen again?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter jumped on that, nodding eagerly. “Promise, Mr. Stark. I’ll only develop web formulas down at your workshop or the labs at the Compound.”

“Good. Then I won’t tell your aunt but if there’s a repeat, she’ll have to know.”

When they got to his apartment, May was home. Peter checked his watch. She must have reached about twenty minutes ago, the time it took for the car to make it through traffic from his school to the apartment building.

“Peter, how’s school?” she greeted warmly, planting a kiss on his head. “I didn’t know Tony was picking you up from school today…”

“Was in the area,” Mr. Stark answered as Peter gave him a cursory glance.

“School was okay. Boring, could have done better things.”

“Oh, yeah?” his mentor raised an eyebrow. “What sort of things?”

Peter pursed his lips before he promptly disappeared into his room. He came out moments later without his backpack, clutching tightly to his Spider-Man suit. In the living room, May was talking to Mr. Stark.

He didn’t know exactly how it happened.

First, May gestured for everyone to take a seat then there they were finishing off the sandwiches with a glass of iced tea. Somehow during that late lunch, Peter found himself listening to Mr. Stark’s explanation of the various protocols installed in the Spider-Man’s suit to May; protocols that had been put in place for Peter’s safety. Peter held his breath, worried that the older man might tell her of the time Ned had removed the Training Wheels Protocol.

He didn’t, thankfully.

Instead, Mr. Stark was listening intently to May’s suggestions and feedbacks, and her worries that Peter could actually sustained injuries from his night out that she might never know about. He grimaced when May told Mr. Stark outright that he has a habit of keeping his injuries from her for fear of making her worry and not actually realizing that keeping things from her made her worry even more.

Mr. Stark nodded sympathetically even as he shot a look at Peter.

“Tell you what, May,” Mr. Stark said, wiping the crumbs from his lips. “I’ll do something about it. A new protocol if you will for Karen to report Peter’s physical status and vitals straight to F.R.I.D.A.Y after every patrol. The report will then be routed by email to you. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds too much like you both babying me,” Peter objected.

Short of May threatening to ground him from all Spider-Man activities and Mr Stark agreeing to take that protocol out once he turned eighteen, there was nothing much he could do.

Even after business concerning Spider-Man had concluded, they somehow still managed to just laze around on the sofa and armchair in front of the television watching an old rerun of The Price is Right. Peter kept glancing over at Mr. Stark, trying to look for any signs that the man was bored or had other places to be but he seemed at ease which left Peter astounded.

Mr. Stark had earlier made a passing remark of wanting to surprise Pepper with dinner except Pepper was working late and he had time to kill. Peter wanted to ask if that time was better suited tinkering in his workshop but he didn’t, in case Mr. Stark took that the wrong way.

He pulled out his phone, firing a text to Ned – Dude, Mr. Stark is still here in my apartment. We’re watching The Price is Right.

“That’s got to be what? A hundred fifty dollars at most?”

Peter pocketed his phone and raised his head to see what Mr. Stark was referring to.

“Oh, but look at the brand,” May pointed out to the microwave oven. “It is definitely more. I’m guessing close to three hundred and ten.”

“Seriously?” Mr. Stark snorted. “The parts needed to make those are easy to acquire and relatively comes at a low price.”

“So it doesn’t have to be sold at three hundred dollars?” Peter asked.

“No, it doesn’t,” Mr. Stark replied. “But that’s what running a business means. I can assemble that. Easily.”

“Of course you can. You’re Tony Stark,” Peter grinned.

May guessed correctly, and she guessed a few others right as well. Turning to Mr. Stark, she asked, “I’m curious now, who does your shopping for you?”

That question made his mentor chuckle which in turn made Peter laughed. May watched them, smiling and shaking her head.