#Three principles training

[threeprinciplesaustraliaa]

Lead A Fulfilling Life – Become A Three Principles Practitioner

On the off chance that you figure out how to cherish yourself more, you free yourself up to adoring and tolerating others at a more profound level.

Being yourself and living your values are the keys to a great life.

You have options if you have money. You can be who you are and express yourself more freely. Thus, to have the option to create a pay for doing the thing you love is something truly significant and you become the three principles practitioner.

Always respect yourself

The way we treat ourselves is reflected in our health. We will value our health, our energy, and what we eat if we value ourselves. We will esteem what we put into our brains and our ears. This will decide the energy that we have.

The following time somebody offers you a commendation permit yourself to enjoy it and when they say " You're working hard", give that praise a shot. Consider it briefly, accept it, and ask yourself, "Okay, I am doing a great job. What does it feel like if I allow myself to feel that I am doing a great job?"

Get your life changed for the better

Here reality knocks against our mental self-portrait and this drives self-destructive behavior. No, we need to open ourselves reliably and update the tale of what our identity is, it is not permanently established, what your identity was will not figure out who you will turn into according to three principles Australia.

Do that instead of blocking everything kind someone says about you, as many people do. For instance, assuming somebody says "I love you" they question whether the assertion is valid or is there an ulterior rationale. They cannot simply accept the statement's truth and enjoy it. They drive everything away because the picture does not match what is inside their psyche of the world that they ought to live in, of the truth that they have been making.

Click here for more information: https://threeprinciplesaustraliaa.tumblr.com/post/693559246824079360/3-principles-training-get-the-best-training-for

[artbyblastweave]

What I like about New Vegas is that out of all the Fallout games, it feels like it's the most aware of the fact that everyone is doing a bit of some kind from the fifties and is much more attentive and thoughtful than some of the other games to the implications of the fact that everyone is doing some kind of bit from the fifties.

The Kings are a salient example of this. The surface level gag, of course, is that they're a militant gang of Elvis impersonators, having adopted the aesthetic after their leader mistook a training facility for Elvis impersonators as some kind of religious site. Stock Future-imperfect stuff, oh-those-silly-wastelanders, elevating our pop-culture to the level of organizing-societal-principle.

Until, of course, you take into account the (singular) King's actual project- the fact that his gang is the defacto governing body of Freeside, the accompanying fact that he's got his anarchist predilections and thus would like to maintain that governing position without having to constantly kick people around to get them to listen. And here you've come across a guy from before the war who was apparently so incredibly charismatic that people came from all over the country to see him, so charismatic that they built an entire school to train people how to imitate his mannerisms. No shit they're gonna check if there's any gas left in that can! There might be some real practical power on the table if they can walk that walk! Even if the quick-and-dirty pitch for the gang is "Elvis Cult," there isn't really a spiritual component, they aren't morons who're mistaking this guy for a literal god, they just recognize that there might be some unreclaimed social capital here for them to tap into. And there absolutely is, in-universe and out- have you ever encountered a Fallout fan who didn't love The Kings?

Compare this, by the way, with the Three Families, who aren't in a situation where they're scrambling for a symbol they can rally populist support around. These guys are on top of the world. They aren't doing a bit because they're pursuing the social power that bit would provide them- there ultimately is some, but that's not why they started doing it and it isn't strictly something that they needed to do, given their combined force of arms. They're doing their respective bits because the guy with the robot army told them to. They're theme-park employees, working to brute-force back into existence the halcyon youth of a guy who can't even go outside to enjoy it.

[evilminji]

You know what I would kill to see?

Nedzu, in the Zone.

He IS a registered Hero, after all. He probably gets calls for missions. Failing that, he's still legal allowed to intervene. Like, say, if some poor four year old were losing their shit? Got separated from their mommy, their headache, which has been getting Ochier ALL DAY has finally gotten Really REALLY bad... and they... they just CAN'T! So they melt down.

Whoops. Four year old with portals.

In a crowd.

Luckily he, Mr. Principle, is a "cute" looking sort of Hero. And as an educator, well trained in de-escala-*CRASH!* Some jackass glory chasing young thing, with no care for innocent lives around them, smashes onto the scene. Terrifying the poor child. Which obviously makes their non-existent control WORSE.

Starts throwing the word "villian" around.

Nedzu is going to EAT his license in front of him.

The poor thing is hyperventilating, crying, clinging desperately to Nedzus suit. Things are being flung from portals. Sucked into portals. He's seen no less then 53 SEPERATE dimensions on the other side of those rifts. At least two were to the open void of space.

He narrowly dodges a portal straight into the heart of a volcano. Can feel the blistering heat singe his fur. Alumni from HIS school, at least, have arrived to actually SAVE people. Get the crowd away from the danger zone.

And to think, all he wanted was some tea.

How this MORON doesn't recognize him, he has no idea. His graduates are actively SHOUTING his identity, for heavens sake. Yet the glory hound continues to chase his so called "villians" at the expense of everyone around him.

He's about to throw the boy to a near by police officer, to get to safety, when the worst occurs. The tract of land he was about to push off of disappears beneath them. The boy's mother screams. He activates High Specs, world slowing as his mind rushs. Twisting, he throws the boy high.

The portal closes before he can see if it is Eraserhead or Cementoss who will be the one to catch him. The odds were 68.3% in Eraserhead's favor. He hopes... Aizawa, does so take these things quite hard, he hope he will not blame himself.

There was no way to catch him in time.

He was already gone.

Gravity arrests, slowing to a drifting meander. The air thick with something the burns his sensitive nose. Green. Everything is a very peculiar green. This is not a planets or if it is, it is countless times larger then Earth. A gas giant of some sort? There does not appear to be a horizon.

In the distance, an almost stereotypical spaceship changes destinations. Now aiming right for him. It seems aid might be on the way. With nothing better to do, he waits. They slow to a stop, a hatch opens, and... oh? A young Hero student! Hello there young man! I am Mr. Principle of the illustrious UA!

And just? Danny? Trying to return this small furry alien guy back to his alien hero school? Getting the run around and "hmmmm, let me look that uuuup *takes forever* yeeeeah, soooorry. You're in the wrong department. You'll have to fly like three days to this OTHER department, fill out 260 forms, and dance for our amusement. Byeeeee~"

Like? He just wants to get this guy HOME! Why are you all LIKE THIS!?

All while Nedzu is " :) My, this is FASCINATING. I am learning new things, battling wits, learning new languages, AND guiding a promising young mind towards a future of Better Heroics? Delightful! This is practically a vacation!"

He even stops by the Fentons for dinner. Some fudge. A little light destruction of Goverment branches on the side. Just? A Grand ol adventure of Nedzu.

Danny suffers through bureaucratic hell. But Nedzu? The most mentally stimulated he's been in years. His crops are watered and his fur is groomed. Thriving! New toys!

Then?? He just... shows back up to work.

How did he return? Where has he been?? Who is this glowing green Hero Child groaning face down on his very expensive carpet? *sips tea* wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy! *maniacal Nedzu laughter*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @lolottes @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @spidori

[stariikis]

ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey. 

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.” 

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace… 

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge. 

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.” 

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.” 

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on. 

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way. 

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.” 

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this. 

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.” 

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.” 

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him. 

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence. 

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site. 

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is. 

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..” 

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook. 

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?” 

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

[woso-dreamzzz]

Not German

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're not German

Magda doesn't often get phone calls from her manager. Most of the time it's emails or good old-fashioned letters in the mail so when she gets the phone call, she's a little confused.

She's even more confused when the topic turns out to not even be about her but you instead.

"Does y/n hold German citizenship?"

Magda's confused. "Huh? Erm...I don't know, why?"

"Was she born in Germany? Is that where her birth certificate is from?"

Magda laughs slightly. "Which one?" She turns serious though as anxiety swells in her gut. "Yeah, she's got a German birth certificate. And a Swedish one and a Danish one."

She hears her manager swear on the other side of the phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Germany are interested."

"Interested? In what?"

"In having her play for their under-fifteen team."

Magda laughs again. "They can't do that. She's not German."

"Legally, she is. She was born in Germany. She's lived there for more than five years. She was registered in a German school while you and Pernille were at Bayern. Under the eligibility rules, she meets the criteria."

"She's not German," Magda insists.

"It's called jus soli - the principle of birthplace. She was born in Germany. She has citizenship. They can call her up if they want."

Magda swears. "They can't," She insists," I...I won't let them. We've settled. We're good where we are. She's too young to be shipped off across the world to a country that-"

"To a country that's interested in her? A country whose language she's fluent in? A country that she's grown up in?"

Magda grinds her teeth. "A country that shouldn't be trying to poach the future star of Sweden or Denmark. How did they even find out about this anyway? It's sneaky. She's not theirs to have."

"Magda-"

"No! She's barely fourteen! She's not going to Germany!"

"Who's not going to Germany?"

Pernille appears in the doorway, still wrapped up in her coat from where she's just gotten back from dropping you off at training.

"y/n." Magda's still grinding her teeth. "Germany want her."

"For what?"

"To play on their youth team."

It's not often that rage flickers on Pernille's face but this is clearly one of those times.

"She's not eligible to play for them," She says firmly, as if her speaking it into existence will make it happen.

"Apparently she is. Some stupid law about being born in Germany," Magda replies, turning her phone onto speaker.

"They can't have her."

"That's what I said."

"She's too young to go off to Germany by herself."

"I said that too."

"You're missing the point," Magda's manager says," They're inviting her to play for them. It's not them saying she has to or them pretending that they're her only option. Just an option. She's not registered with them so they put out feelers with the Swedish FA who put them in contact with me."

"She's not German," Magda insists again, feeling her throat tighten.

In her mind, Sweden and Denmark were always going to be the only option for you. One day, one (or both) would want to call you up for the senior team. One day, you would choose which of your mothers' footsteps to walk in. One day, you would either be wearing Sweden or Denmark's colours at an international tournament.

She hadn't even considered that your birth and time spent growing up in Germany would mean that you might not end up in either her's or Pernille's team.

"Listen, Germany knows that. They know that but they also know who her parents are, they know she's on track to be one of the best keepers in the world. They know that she speaks the language and she's smart. To them, securing her now could mean she chooses them when she turns eighteen and all three of us know that when she hits eighteen, she's going to be great. It's tactical for them. Sure, they lucked out on her meeting all of the eligibility criteria and, sure, it's completely underhanded and sneaky of them but, ultimately, it's no one's decision but hers. She's not registered with them. If they want her they go through me and they go through you. But they want her and a decision needs to be made."

"A decision has been made," Magda says," The decision is no. They can't have her. She's too young to go to Germany by herself. She's too young to be mixed in with the politics of this all. It's confusing and I won't let it happen."

Pernille's nodding firmly at her side even though Magda's manager can't see them.

"It's...Magda, I understand what you're saying. I do. None of us want her in German colours but...it's not your decision to make. It's hers."

"She's not here right now," Pernille says after a long stretch of silence," She's at practice."

"Talk to her when she comes home," Magda's manager says," Let her make the decision."

●～●～●～●～

You think Momma and Morsa have had an argument when you slip through the front door after having been dropped off back home by your friend's mother.

The vibe at the dinner table is frosty and you glance between your mothers awkwardly.

You're not entirely sure what they could have argued about but it's making your dinner very unenjoyable.

"So," Morsa says finally, putting her cutlery down," What do you think about Germany?"

Momma shoots her a look and your eyes dart between them.

"Er...Are we moving again? Back to Germany?"

Morsa's eyes widen. "Why? Is that something you want? You want to go back to Germany?"

Momma keeps glaring at her and horror swirls in your stomach.

"Are you two breaking up?" You ask quickly, looking between them in disbelief. "Is that why you're asking about Germany? Is one of your moving to Germany and you're sorting out who I'm living with?"

You stand up quickly, your chair clattering to the ground.

"I-I don't want to have this conversation."

"No! No, princesse." Momma reaches out to grab at your wrists, pulling you into her grip. "Me and Morsa aren't breaking up. We're not separating. We're not moving to Germany."

Morsa scoffs.

"We're not moving to Germany, Magda!" Momma snaps before pulling away, her tone softening," I'm sorry for worrying you, princesse, but me and Morsa got a call today."

"A call?"

You're guided back into your seat.

"A call," Morsa says. Her hands are clenching and releasing on top of the table.

"And...This call had nothing to do with you two separating?"

"Nothing at all," Momma assures you," It just threw us."

"And it's about Germany?"

"You were born in Germany," Morsa continues, though her eye twitches like it did all those years ago when Leah Williamson gave you her shirt," And you went to school in Germany, when you were younger. Do you remember?"

"I only went to school once a week," You reply," You home schooled me the rest of the time."

"We did but it was still a German school you went to."

"I guess. What has this got to do with the call, though?"

"My manager called earlier. Germany's interested in inviting you to their under-fifteen team."

"Oh." You sink down in your seat. You don't like where this is going at all. Both of your mothers had played for their youth teams. They were always going on about how much of a good experience it was for them.

You hadn't been called up for either Sweden or Denmark just yet.

You don't know if you really want to go to Germany to play.

"Oh?"

You laugh bitterly. "Germany, huh? I'm...I'm not German."

"Under the law, you are. And under the eligibility criteria, they can ask you to play for them," Momma explains.

"Oh..." You play with your food. "When do I have to leave?"

You don't want to play for Germany at all. You don't want to play for anywhere but Denmark or Sweden. But Momma and Morsa always go on and on about how much it improved them to play in the youth teams. You don't want to let them down.

You don't see Morsa's face fall at your words. "You want to go?"

"Do I have a choice?" You sullenly look at your food. Suddenly, everything tastes like ash in your mouth.

"Of course, princesse," Momma assures you," You always have a choice."

"You won't make me play if I don't want to?"

"Of course not."

"And-And Germany won't force me to play for them either?"

Morsa lays a hand on your arm. "What makes you think that Germany will force you to play for them?"

"Tia Tana said once that she and the Spanish team went on strike and then they all got called up during their next international break."

"This is a youth team, princesse," Morsa says," They have no right to ask that of you and they'll have to get through me, Momma and Sweden and Denmark to make you. You don't have to play for them if you don't want to."

"And you won't get mad? You always say that playing on the youth teams developed your skills."

"We won't get mad," Momma says," You don't want to play for Germany?"

"No."

"Okay. Then you won't play for Germany."

"That simple?"

"That simple."

You breathe out a long breath as your body finally relaxes, all of the tension bleeding out of the room.

Morsa is in a similar position, finally looking relaxed for the first time since you got home.

[frownyalfred]

Tbh, the trinity? Diana's the king (master general, trained from birth to lead, level head, handles external affairs with grace and aplomb, inspires loyalty), Clark's the queen (handles internal affairs, reads people and situations well, friendly face of the trio, inspires loyalty, works well on his own, better when supporting others), while Bruce is the spy master/royal advisor (quiet, bad with people but good at reading them, tactical mastermind (Diana is too, but letting Bruce focus on tactics means she can focus on leading and managing her people), loyal beyond words, and works best from the background, where he arrange things and people to best suit his goals, and protect and serve those he's loyal to- his family, Clark, Diana, and then those he protects as a matter of principle.).

Exactly. Diana takes the lead because that's who she is as a person. Clark shares that lead because of a sense of duty to humanity. And Bruce stands behind them both in the shadows, because he will only step out of them if they need him. All three of them are vital parts to the whole they've formed.

[areyouwell]

Algophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of pain. Children and adults may have Algophobia if they possess an extreme aversion to feeling pain, typically physical.

Ch.7

Ch.6, Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, vomit, uhhhhhhh nothing intense really, for once... honestly can't remember and i literally JUST reread it :')

Word Count: 14.5K

A/N: told ya i'd keep writing. sorry this one took a little extra time, i'm literally on a train in France having finished editing and proofreading the chapter like, two minutes ago so slay boots. can't believe this fic is almost over like holy shit... congrats to anyone who's ready all of it so far because it's well within the world count of a novel and by the end will probably be over that threshold... so slay of us good job teamsquad also sorry if the layout is janky i hate posting from my phone

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik @whyamistillontumbler @maddiedinosaur @bethexo07 @pwpwppeepeoor

Birds. The chittering of swallows, to be exact. Beyond the soft beams of sunlight through the quartered window, the chittering of swallows had caressed him awake, a gentle breeze rustling the orange leaves against the glass, whispering secrets into the light of the morning.

It wasn’t rare Logan woke up before you, in fact, considering how little of a morning person you were, it was rare you woke up before midday full-stop—and this morning seemed no different. Occasional snores bubbled from your chest, you lightly swiped at an invisible irritation around your nose as you turned in his arms, nestling tighter into his chest. Logan hummed a tender smile, smoothing your brow with the pad of his thumb. Your features furrowed as you attempted to escape his touch, unappreciative of the disturbance no matter how gentle.

Huffing a small laugh, he allowed you to burrow further into his embrace, tightening his arms around your body. Six months of this. Six months of the quiet peace of escape. Honestly, he couldn’t be more thankful for the raid on the mansion that day. Here he was, the love of his life tangled in his arms, slowly waking on a sunny, breezy autumnal morning.

His eyes raised to beyond the window, smelling the rain on the air even from inside. Maybe an hour away? An hour and a half at a push. He groaned, realising he’d need to get the bike into the barn before the showers hit. Was leaving the cosy confines of the bed really worth saving and having to scale off some rust later? Absolutely not, but Logan knew you’d be mad at him if he let a splash of rainwater ruin all his hard work.

Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your brow, your features scrunched in disapproval as she shifted you out of his embrace having to move quickly before you searched for him again and attached yourself to his arm. You whined gravelly protests but settled back down when he pulled the covers back up over your shoulders. He’d make a coffee for you when he came back in. One of those strong ‘morning’ coffees you called them. With at least three heaps of espresso, no sugar, no cream, just caffeine.

Slipping on a fresh pair of jeans and a deep green flannel that you said brought out the colours in his eyes –utter bullshit in his correct opinion– Logan tip-toed down the stairs almost comically slow. He knew you wouldn’t wake. The sun could have exploded and you’d be more irritated if it had woken you up before 1 pm, but he still liked to take care not to disturb you, more out of principle than anything else.

The morning was as crisp as he initially thought, his skin prickly with the cool breeze. He hadn’t bothered with his jacket, since he would only be out for less than thirty seconds. Pulling the tarp from the bike and flicking up the kickstand, he wheeled it back up the small slope and into the barn. If things continued going the way they were going, Logan thought about perhaps clearing out some of the rusted old machinery, maybe making room for a chicken pen, or maybe a stall for a cow or something. You’d be good at raising animals, he thought. And he preferred the idea of getting fresh produce rather than having to head to the store every week or so.

It was an idea that refused to leave his head as he looked around the small space. Just against the far wall, he could imagine a little coop where the old, rusty plough now lay discarded. It would be a ballache to remove it, and Logan didn’t doubt the sharp edges where the metal had rusted away would get a good few swipes in, but it seemed worth it in his mind’s eye to see you crouched next to the nest, holding up a single egg proudly as if you’d laid it yourself.

But if he was to get started, he’d need his jacket. And maybe a thick pair of gloves. Sure, he could heal, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get pissed at him when he wouldn’t take these kinds of precautions, bringing up that one time he said he wanted to do things like a normal couple, to which you’d use to your advantage. “Normal people don’t simply heal their wounds three seconds later, Lo’.”

It was endearing, how much you cared. How hard you tried to keep him safe despite the fact he literally couldn’t be hurt. With a fond smile tugging his lips up at the thought of you, Logan draped the tarp back over the bike, securing the tags around the frame before patting the motorcycle, much like Todd did.

Todd.

Logan blinked. Why did he suddenly have the urge to tear into the man’s chest and rip out his fucking heart? Was his anger returning? But Todd hadn’t done anything, at least not that he could remember. Sure, he was flirtatious with you, but you never let it go too far and it made you laugh, so there wasn’t much harm there. So where the fuck did this sudden urge to split his skull come from?

Taking a deep, calming breath, he attempted to release his anger with his exhale, feeling the rage simmer down slightly, though still extremely accessible beneath the surface. Maybe he was too far away from you. Oh, he was down so bad if that was the reason. He refused to believe it until he left the barn, pulling the bolt shut, and turning to see you in the doorway, two mugs of steaming coffee grasped in your hands.

Was there a better view? He couldn’t think of anything sweeter than what he was seeing, the woman he loved, leaning against the doorframe to the cabin he shared with her away from the rest of the world, safe and free and at peace. Your soft smile could start a war, and your laugh could end it. There was no clean line to where you started and he ended, your very souls totally and completely intertwined.

And you lost her.

Logan whirled at the trees above, searching for where he swore he’d just heard a voice hiss. But he saw nothing other than clouded blue skies and fluttering leaves like an artist’s palette of a sunset. You called his name and he slowly turned his head back to you.

And froze completely.

A small crimson stain started to spread from the centre of your chest, sanguine blood flowing from a fresh wound down your front. Panic leached the colour from his face as he lurched forward, only for his feet to be stuck to the ground. He looked down frantically, tugging at his thighs in an attempt to pull himself free. You were supposed to be safe. He was supposed to keep you safe.

A strangled gurgle was ripped from your throat and he looked back to you just as you opened your mouth, a fountain of blood bubbling from your scarlet-stained lips. Trying to scream resulted in nothing but a rippling stream of sanguine with a guttural yelp. A hand gripped your shoulder from the dark beyond the doorway, a serrated knife dragging a thin line across the hollow of your neck as your palms flew to the arm holding you still in a weak attempt to stop him.

Logan desperately clawed at his legs, eyes unable to look away as Dr.Kreva stepped out from behind your bleeding body, the knife held in his closed grip. A roar tore up his voice, scraping up along his throat as the serrated edge of the blade inched further into the tendons of your neck, snapping through the muscles with a sickening squelch. Your eyes widened as your voice cut off, hands gripping Kreva’s arm falling limp by your sides, light fading from your irises.

Smoke rose from somewhere behind the cabin, and Logan could only blink before the wood erupted into flame, licks and tendrils of scorching reds devouring the exterior. He could do nothing, stuck in a quagmire of his guilt, hands of fire clawing up your legs, igniting your clothes, melting the flesh from your bones. Kreva’s glasses shone in the golden glow, stepping back into the inferno and disappearing as the support beam collapsed.

Staring in abject horror, Logan fell forward, finally released by whatever held his fast. His knees bit as he struck the earth, facing your skeleton lying face down, blackened bones of your hand outstretched towards him in a final, desperate plea for help.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He whispered to your vacant corpse. He’d failed you. Keeping you safe was his only fucking job and he’d failed. He promised you he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t abandon you, and he’d fucking failed.

The shadows rippled and contorted around your skeleton, rising from the ground to conjure seven figures. The same silhouettes he’d woken up to stare him down six months ago. Simultaneously, their hands stretched out over you, void-like fingers splayed, and your bones began to sink into the earth.

The ghost of your body rippled beneath the surface of the darkness before the black smoke curled up from the soil, an eighth shadow figure reforming from the void to complete what he had suspected ever since he’d read the file. There were eight of you. Eight Subjects.

Nine Lives Minus One.

They were the literal shadows of your past. And it terrified him that you had now become one. Logan’s heart thundered in his chest as he looked between the eight figures, shadowing faces simultaneously snapping to look at him, head cocking at unnatural angles.

The one he knew to be yours reached up to its neck, wrapping its long thin fingers around its own throat, before squeezing. A scream echoed in his ears, tearing at the walls of his mind before he was thrust forward, falling through to reality.

Nausea roiled in his gut as Logan jolted awake, bolt upright. The image of your charring body, flesh dripping from your bones burned in his mind’s eye, and that slight nausea shifted to the undeniable urge to vomit.

Staggering from his bed to the bathroom, bile burned his throat as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the sounds of his own gagging echoing about the empty stall.

Two months. It had been two months since he’d lost you. And every day felt like thirty. Rage and grief accompanied him like a constant companion. The memories of your laughter, your smile, your teasing comments haunted the halls of the school, corridors once alight with comfort and giggles now felt cold damp. Absent.

They were making progress. They reassured him every long, long day, they were making progress with locating you. Charles had almost locked himself away with Cerebro to locate you, but it was difficult to get a read on anything when any signatures he felt from the once-destroyed facility kept slipping from his mental grasp. Subject One, or Obscurity, was somehow hiding all and any neurotransmitters from the old environment centre. Either that or what whole place was coated entirely with steel, which was also a possibility.

But none of them knew because nobody could get close enough to fucking find out. It was damn near impossible without alerting upwards of sixty armed guards to their approaching location. And whilst Logan would tank the bullets and take them all on alone, Scott wouldn’t let him, and neither would he let him endanger any other member of the team by storming a full frontal assault.

So Logan was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Every day, you slipped further from him. That first night without you, he’d borderline commandeered the Blackbird to get to Todd. He needed to know what happened. Why he did do it? And it wasn’t a polite conversation.

Rage coursed through his veins as he sliced open the lock to Todd’s garage, throwing up the doors with enough force to break the mechanism completely. Pausing only to sniff the air, Logan growled as he scented Todd’s presence, a frantic Ororo trailing behind after him, placing a weak attempt at a placating hand on his bicep. But he didn’t want to be calmed down. Logan wanted blood. Fuck that, he craved blood. Wanted to taste it as he ripped Todd’s throat out with his damn teeth.

Though the office light was off, Todd’s scent was stronger in that direction, and Logan was fairly certain he was hiding. Good. Smartest decision he’d made in the last six months. Although he would have been smarter to start running the second he betrayed Logan’s trust and had you ripped away from him.

With a balled fist, Logan thrust his hand through the glass on the door, barely wincing as shards of glass embedded themselves in his knuckles. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to that kind of sensation. And true to his senses, Todd swore from behind the desk, his voice shaky. Good.

“It better have been fuckin’ worth it for ya.” Logan snarled, ripping the desk from its roots and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. Various effects scattered about the floor, a lamp shattering upon impact, files and paperwork strewn like flyers in the wind.

“Jus’ w-wait a minute. I didn’t ‘ave a choice. Bastard threatened my family, what would you ‘ave done?” Todd held his hands up in defence, bowing his head as Logan’s adamantium claws slid from his freshly healed knuckles. The man’s eyes widened in horror. “Yer a fuckin’ mutant?”

Ororo’s eyes blanched, lightning crashing through a telephone pole beyond the doors outside. The blood drained from Todd’s face, as the realisation dawned on him that, they were all mutants.

Logan hated how he understood the man’s fear. And he was right. If the roles had been reversed, if it had been you who was being threatened, he would have cracked in an instant. If your safety was compromised, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure right whatever had happened.

“Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ weasel, Todd. I fuckin’ trusted you!” It was taking every fibre of his self-control not to plunge his claws through his throat and rip through his tendons, but he took a deep, steadying breath.

“What happened, Todd?” Ororo asked, her eyes fading back to their natural colour.

Todd sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Round three months after y’all moved in, this glasses-wearing sleezebag waltzed into this shop like ‘e owned the fuckin’ place, askin’ after the pair of yous. I told ‘im to get lost, I weren’t in the business of information. Till ‘e asked about me wife. And me daughter, Lisa. Put the fear of God in me I tell ya.

“I didn’t ‘ave a choice, Logan, I swear it. I’d never ‘ave told ‘im anythin’ if I knew this were gonna ‘appen.” He pleaded, and Logan had to step away to stop himself from at least punching the shit out of him.

“That’s why you called me, isn’t it? Not cuz of the money, but cuz you knew what was gonna happen.” The question was rhetorical. Of course that was the reason. And if he could turn back time, he would have picked up the phone in an instant, no questions asked. Maybe he could have avoided this altogether and you’d be safe and sound, curled up by his side, back at the mansion.

But as it stood, Logan’s mutation wasn’t time travel.

“I didn’t know exactly, but yeah, I knew somethin’ was gonna ‘appen tonight…” Todd admitted, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “I liked ‘er Logan. I did. She was–”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, running a stressed hand through his hair. It was only 4:36 am. You had roughly two hours on him, but if he left now and took the bike, maybe he could catch you. Or better yet, if he took the Blackbird…”

“Logan…?”

No. He’d have to land the Blackbird, which would take far too long and he also wasn’t used to piloting something like that.

“Logan?”

He’d take the bike then. Head back to the cabin with the truck and exchange vehicles. But that would take too long, even if he floored it. Fuck! The truck was nowhere near fast enough either. He had to make a choice here, sacrifice time with the small possibility of catching up to you, or possibly sacrifice you and tail Kreva so he leads him straight back to the facility.

“Logan!”

He blinked, turning back to Ororo, who had her arms folded across her chest, her brows pinched in sympathy. “You can’t go after her. It’s too late. We need to strategise this because clearly, they’re expecting you to follow her immediately,” she explained, and he grit his teeth. She was right, and he fucking hated it. Because every second wasted here was yet another second you were in their capture, and fuck knows what they would do to you this time. The thought terrified him. “Come on… we’ll head back to the school, figure something out.” Logan didn’t move, his eyes hard as he glared at Ororo, the thought of leaving your behind had his gut writhing like a ball of vicious, furious snakes. Storm sighed, realising he wasn’t going to be convinced so easily. “She was a member of our team, Logan. She was our friend. We’re not abandoning her…” There was a determination in her eye that genuinely gave Logan a kernel of hope. She was right. You were their friend. You’d made such an impact in their lives, and they weren’t about to give you up so easily.

With an extended sigh, he nodded. Fine. He’d play by their rules. But the moment things stagnated, he’d fucking find you himself.

“I’ll look after yer truck. She’s–”

“I don’t fucking care.” he snapped, not bothering to spare so much as a glance over his shoulder before returning out to the jet.

That was two fucking months ago. And he was certain things had stagnated and he just wasn’t being told. Scott had banned him from surveillance missions, claiming his fuse was too short for missions such as those, and that if he saw where you were being held, he’d snap and tear through anything and everything in his path to get to you.

Not something Logan could disagree with, but he only acquiesced because Jean convinced him it was their best bet at finding you. It physically fucking hurt not to be involved in your rescue missions, but he knew it was for the best. He didn’t particularly want anybody else hurt or captured or killed or whatever the fuck they’d do to them.

Making sure his stomach wasn’t about to surprise him with another surge of bile, Logan stood to the basin, running the cold water from the tap and cupping his hands, splashing his face vigorously in a lame attempt to wash away the nightmare. Because that’s all it was. Just a nightmare. And despite him having intimate knowledge of your mutation, the fact that the last he saw of you, you were bleeding out on a floor of tarmac, scared the shit out of him. He knew you could heal. There was documented proof of you healing from several bullet wounds, however he couldn’t shake the image from his brain.

You barely knew what had happened before you dropped to the floor, your delicately concerned smile for him morphing and shifting to an expression of complete and utter shock. The crack of your skull on the pavement, the harsh gurgle of your coagulated blood as you spat at Kreva….

You didn’t have a choice. He knew that. He knew your body would have given into the shadow in a desperate attempt to heal yourself of the bullet in your chest, but that didn’t make the memories hurt any less.

That was the last he saw of you, and it fucking haunted him. Exhaling a shaky breath, Logan stared into the droplets in the sink, before raising his head, limp strands of dark brown hair hanging damp around his eyes. His gaze shifted to the reflection of the shower. It had taken him almost a week after being back to garner the courage to use it. Not only because every time he closed his eyes he saw your bleeding chest and blanching face, but also because it was identical to the shower in your ensuite, and it fucking hurt to be near it, let alone in it.

The porcelain cracked beneath his grip, pulling him from his memories back into the present. There were times he wished he could simply let himself be lost to the past. At least he was with you there. But he promised he’d find you. He promised he’d never leave you. And he didn’t intend to break it.

Shrugging on the same flannel he’d been wearing for days and a pair of extremely worn jeans, Logan checked his watch. Two minutes past nine. His lips tugged in a bittersweet smile. You’d be furious. Running a hand down the side of his face, Logan opened the door.

Only to find Scott standing on the other side, balled fist held up as if to knock a few times on Logan’s face. If he had the energy, Logan would ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but it seemed the team was taking it in turns to make sure he was alright now and then. Poor Scott. It seemed he’d drawn the short straw on a particularly shit morning.

“What?” He asked blankly, fighting the urge to silently barge past the man. Sure, they may have shared a sweet moment of understanding after he’d lost you, but that was two fucking months ago. And moments of sweet understanding weren’t enough to make up for the fact you were still missing.

Scott blew out a sigh of relief, clearly expecting Logan to simply walk past him. “Uh, Marie’s looking for you. Says it’s urgent? She wouldn’t talk to any of us…” Scott sounded almost suspicious, but the moment he mentioned it was urgent, Logan was gone, shouldering past him and down the hallway. “She’s out the back!” Cyclops called after him as if he needed any kind of help with directions. He could smell a plan brewing from a mile away.

True to his nose, and annoyingly, Scott’s directions, he found Marie out by the pond, alongside Kitty, Bobby, Peter, Jubilee, Julian and to his heartwarming surprise, Artie. All of them were dressed in their gear, other than Artie who’d simply donned a black pair of trousers, a black t-shirt and a matching beanie.

“We want to help,” Marie said by way of greeting, and Logan folded his arms across his chest, releasing a slightly exasperated breath. Honestly, he was shocked it took this long for them all to catch on. He was back, and you were nowhere to be seen. Classes had all but ceased completely and the Professor wouldn’t be seen for days, sometimes weeks on end. The rest of their little team nodded with boundless determination.

His chest ached with the knowledge there was no way he was about to let these students, your students, run head-first into danger, no matter how much they wanted to. “Look, kids, as it stands, we don’t even know–” he paused, having to steel his nerves. “We don’t even know if she’s still alive.” It was entirely true. He knew you were alive. You had to be. He’d feel it if you weren’t, right? That’s at least how it felt to him. You were part of each other now, neither whole without the other. If you were head, he’d know it.

Kitty clenched her jaw, her hands balling into firsts by her sides, and Logan felt a pang of guilt. She knew. She must have known he was lying. She was somewhere between a student and an X-man, hovering between still learning and a member of the team. Being so close to you, however, it also seemed she had been left out of all the fun. His sympathy morphed into empathy, feeling her frustration as his own.

“She’s still alive.” Your friend whispered through clenched teeth, and Logan blew out a sigh. “They won’t let them help, sure, they’re still students, but I’m not. I’m part of the goddamn team, Logan. And so are you!” She hissed, and Marie and Bobby shared a look of concern before Rogue’s hand touched her shoulder compassionately.

“We don’t care that we’re students. You said it yourself, we’re stronger than anyone realises. We can help.” Bobby urged, and if Logan was being honest with himself, their argument was fairly convincing. They were strong, much stronger than even you realised. But he also knew that if–

No. Not if. When they got you back, if you ever found out that he’d allowed the students to help on the mission, he was pretty sure you’d castrate him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let ya. Not only cuz you’re still students, but you all know, if she found out I was the one who let you help, I’d be killed.” Huffed a smile of understanding. Of course, they wanted to help you, you’d helped so many of them in the past. But he didn’t think that was it. This wasn’t out of some favour for a favour obligation towards you. You were loved. You were so so loved, by so many.

And by nobody more than him.

“Be our spy then.” Jubilee offered from behind Marie, to which Logan raised a brow.

“And how would I do that when? I’m not involved in the planning.” He tried so hard to keep the frustrated growl from his voice, but Artie's slight step back proved his failure. Fuck.

“You gotta convince them. Please? For us?” The hope in Marie’s voice took him right back to where he’d found her almost three years ago now, running from her past. Running from herself. It made sense how you and she got along so well. You were both running.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Logan could feel seven pairs of eyes all trained on him. He wasn’t one to bend to peer pressure, but at the same time, he needed an excuse for himself to get involved, and if doing it for the kids was enough, then that’s what he’d do.

“Alright. Alright. Damn, you sure none of you has a persuasion mutation?” He asked in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. At least Artie found it funny, the kid giggling away to himself in the back.

Marie beamed in gratitude, leaping into his arms and giving him one of the squeeziest hugs Logan thinks he’s ever received. “I knew you’d help! Thanks, Logan, as soon as you hear anything, please let us know, kay?” She stepped back and Logan once again felt that familiar stab of guilt impale his gut. He knew he was going to have to lie to them, because the moment they found out some kind of progress had been made, they’d be out the door like a shot before he could even start to yell ‘wait’.

“Yeah yeah, just don’t mention anythin’ ‘kay? They don’t let me know anythin’ as it is, so this’ll be hard enough without them thinkin’’m feeding back information to the damn students.” Logan grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Okay?” He repeated after a beat of silence, only this time to a chorus of nodded heads and various ‘yes sir’s. “Good, now back to classes, all of you.”

“But… Professor Grey didn’t turn up to teach us…” Julian chimed in, to Logan’s irate twitch of his brow.

“Then go and study.” His voice left no room for argument as each student bowed their head in defeat and dragged their feet back inside until his was just him and Kitty left behind. Logan studied her face for a bit, much more crestfallen than he’d ever seen her. “Y’alright?” He asked, though instantly kicking himself for the ridiculous question. She was probably just as alright as he was, which was absolutely not alright at all.

Kitty clenched her jaw again, unable to raise her eyes further than the blades of grass at her feet. “She left again…” Logan’s heart cracked for her. You hadn’t had time to explain anything eight months ago after the attack. He didn’t even think you saw her before you left, unable to say goodbye before you were on the road with him. And now, he’d returned and you were still gone.

“She didn’t want to, kiddo. She didn’t have a choice…” he didn’t know how much Kitty knew about your situation, but he assumed anything regarding who you were, what had happened in your past and who had taken you was kept on a need-to-know basis. He hated every tear that spilled from the poor girl’s eyes, her frustration conflicting her her confusion. Wordlessly, Logan stepped forward and enveloped her in his embrace, finding the way she instantly fell into his chest heartbreaking.

“I miss her so much…” she managed to sob, her fingers clutching onto the arms of his jacket. Tears pricked his own hazel eyes, having to tilt his head up to stop them from falling. He hadn’t heard his own agony spoken aloud like this, and pain wracked the centre of his chest.

“Me too.” was all he could utter back, fighting to keep his voice stable, clearing his throat in an attempt to loosen the lump constricting his breathing. Kitty stepped back from his arms, furiously wiping the tears from her cheeks with the heels of her palms.

“Right, yeah, ‘course you do. Sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“You’re good. It’s actually kinda… refreshing. Everyone tip-toes ‘round me like ’m gonna bite their head off. Can’t really blame 'em.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. He guessed he should be grateful for the way people were trying to be respectful, but it only resulted in pissing him off monumentally.

“You have been looking like you want to tear the school down recently…” Kitty giggled lightly, and Logan relaxed, thankful he was able to bring a smile back to the girl’s face. His chest constricted as he thought of your proud smile. Teaching the kids he could do. Making them feel better in any kind of capacity? That’s where he fell short, but you excelled. “S’just… Jade was like a sister to me. I hated her for what happened, but we leant on each other so much, she became the sister to me Jade used to be. And I never told her I didn’t hate her anymore. Because I did, or, at least part of me did, but I let that go…” Kitty took a deep breath, tilting her head to the sky as fresh tears stung her eyes. “What if– what if I don’t get to tell her that?”

Logan grit his teeth. “You will. Listen, I still gotta buncha shit I wanna say to her, and there’s nothin’ that can stop me from sayin’ it. We’ll get her back, aight? I promise.” He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but Kitty blew out a long breath, her tears remaining behind her lashes. If he could bring her some kind of comfort, then perhaps he could start believing it himself. You weren’t dead. He was set on that. But you were in pain. He knew that too. Because whatever they did to you in the past wouldn’t hold a candle to how things had changed in the last seven years. New technology, new information, new drugs.

New weapons.

He shook his head. Thinking about what you were going through wouldn’t help to get you back. And as if sensing his train of thought, Kitty stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “We will get her back.” She reiterated, only this time it was for his benefit. He offered her a weak, grim smile, before turning back to head into the mansion once again.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Jean who came sprinting out the door, almost colliding straight into him. She skidded to a stop, pausing as if she couldn’t find the right words. Logan raised a brow.

“We have a lead.” Was all she said, though her words took a moment to register, Kitty came barrelling up behind him. “Or rather, we found a way in.”

Rap rap rap!

A groan rumbled from your lips as you held your pillow over your ears, your head pounding. Your shift last night had been long and brutal, and that was without the endless shots your coworkers poured for you.

Rap rap rap!

“Fuck off!” You called back, hearing a light giggle from beyond your messy bedroom door.

“C’mon, it’s almost midday! You can’t sleep forever!” You attempted to hide beneath the covers of your bed as Morgana opened the door, her face as bright as it usually was this early in the morning. And by this early, you really meant eleven-forty.

“I’m serious Morgo, fuck off. My shift was exhausting and I just want to sleep forever…” you complained, almost hiding as she drew back the curtains to your window. “Morgana?!”

“Get. Up!” She leapt onto your bed, hardly mindful of wherever your limbs lay, before snuggling in next to you, crimson strands of curly hair falling into your face. You sighed heavily. You loved Morgo, you really did, but she could be a total pain in your ass sometimes.

“She still not up yet?” Rowan called from the door, and you swore lowly as he too stepped into your room, followed by Atlas.

“Yeah sure, party in my room. Free real estate up in here!” You called sarcastically from beneath the covers as Rowan attempted to pull them from your body. You gasped in horror, clutching the duvet like your life depended on it.

“Don’t you fucking dare Rowan, I will drown you in shadow I swear to fucking god!” You bit, earning yourself a fit of giggled from Morgana and an appalled gape from Atlas. Your brother placed his hands on his hips, raising a light gold brow as he looked down at you.

“If you could control your powers like I can, maybe I’d believe you, freakshow. C’mon, ouuuuuut of bed.” He strained against your strength as you briefly played tug of war, before you gave up when Atlas stepped in to help your brother, ripping the covers from your clutch with their combined strength and dragging Morgana with it, the girl falling off the foot of your bed with a heavy thump.

“Hey! What the hell?” She slapped Atlas’ thigh and the poor boy jumped back, offering her a shrug of an apology. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Ya know, I don’t know a single twenty-two-year-old who lays in bed all day. Oh, wait, yeah I do. It’s you.” Rowan poked your now exposed foot and you went to kick him half-heartedly. He took a single step back, out of your range.

“Yeah well, none of you fuckers work nights so–”

“I do!” Erin poked her head around the door, toothbrush sticking out from between her white frothy lips. It seems you weren’t the only one out late. “Well, shometimes, it–”

“Take ya brush out ya mouth, Erin…” Atlas sighed, a hand braced against his brow as if being around you all was exhausting. The girl rolled her eyes, tilting her head up so her minty saliva wouldn’t drip all over the wooden floors.

“It depends on the rota, I don’t work late every shift, unlike you.” She finished, placing the toothbrush back in her mouth and dipping out of sight. You heard the tap run as Erin spit out her toothpaste, returning around the door as she wiped her mouth, “We need to get you a new job, girlie. This one’s destroying you. Honestly, you could carry my weekly shop in the bags under your eyes.” Erin crossed the room with the sole purpose of prodding the centre of your nose, before plopping her ass down on the bed next to you.

You looked at the four of them individually, finding a bubble of happiness blooming in your chest. You loved these people. They were your family. They were everything to you. And despite your shitty job, your long hours, the tiny apartment that the seven of you were supposed to share, and how antisocial Naji was, you found yourself feeling extremely grateful for your circumstances.

“I’ll look into it…” you sighed, much to Erin and Altas’ shared glee. Clearly, he was getting tired of healing your various bar-wounds, coming home with various cuts on your palm from where you’d completely misjudged the fall of your knife when slicing up garnish.

“Knew ya would!” Erin chimed, twirling a strand of her badly dyed green hair between her fingers. Her justification was that she could control nature, so surely she should look green, no? But her original black roots had started to show through and she couldn’t be bothered to go through the faff of dyeing it all over again, so she’d just decided to grow it out.

With an irritated sigh, you stretched your arms high above your head, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to rid yourself of the crick in your neck. “Fine, I’ll get up. God, I hate Saturdays. None of you motherfuckers seem to work weekends either.” You grumbled, shooting an exasperated look to Atlas as he muttered ‘language’ under his breath.

“Did you have ya dream again?” Morgana asked, finally removing herself from your floor and dusting herself off. Rowan and Atlas went to head back down the stairs, where you could now smell bacon rising from the kitchen. Maybe it was worth getting up if Rowan was making breakfast. Or lunch, you guessed.

“Hm?” You asked, having not listened to her question at all. The girl rolled her eyes, slapping your arm as she followed you to the bathroom.

“Your dream? Did ya have it? I need to know more about Mr.Sexy and his hot claws.” She grinned and you snorted a laugh, before taking a moment to try to remember if you even dreamed at all last night. Though your awakening had been rude, you’d awoken feeling a slight panic in your chest which had nothing to do with Morgana storming your room. Although if you were being quite honest, you didn’t really want her to know more than she already did. You had a sneaking suspicion she was writing down your dreams in the hopes that she would dream of your nighttime visitor.

“Yeah, actually, I did…” you started hesitantly, giving her reflection in the mirror a flat look as she clapped her hands excitedly. Erin scooted over across your bed so she could be involved in the conversation, listening through the open door. “I don’t remember much of it,” you confessed, rolling your eyes as Morgana’s face fell. “But it was pretty mundane. We were just…” you took a moment, pretending to try and remember what it was about. “We were just chatting. On a bed, but like, a four-poster bed. Same one as last time, with the whole crossed gun thing above the headboard” It was one you’d genuinely had before, and Morgana’s shoulder sagged in disappointment. “Sorry Morgo.”

“Wait that’s so cute, why’re you apologising?” Erin called from the bed, and you snorted a laugh.

“Because I’ve had that one before. It seems to be recurring.” You shrugged, feeling a little nugget of guilt swell in your gut. Now you’d thought about it, your dream last night had been harrowing. You were caked in blood, lying on the road. He was reaching for you, stationary, the world around swirling and blurry with shadows before you blinked and he was gone. Two months you’d been having dreams similar to this one, or at least starring the same man. He was incredibly attractive, hence Morg’s nickname for him after you described him to her, but you knew nothing about him. Each dream he was silent. You were too. You were just near each other, either doing mundane things or going through what you assumed was the worst moment of your dream self’s life. It was really fucking weird.

“Awww… I wanted something new.” Morgana pouted and you narrowed your eyes at her reflection, spitting your toothpaste into the basin before splashing water across your face in a lame attempt to freshen up and wash away the memory of your nightmare.

Twirling to face her, you placed a hand on your hip. “Yeah well, seems my mind’s just conjuring shit on repeat now sooooo…” you made a face and Morgana stuck her tongue out at you, before padding out the bathroom with you in tow.

“Still, s’interesting you get dreams of the same guy. S’like you’re having a relationship in your head… wait no that just sounds sad.” Erin furrowed her brows in an attempt to think of another way of putting it, but gave up almost instantly. You flopped back down on your bed, leaning forward to your chest of drawers against the left side wall, and the fact you could easily reach the drawers from your bed was a testament to just how small your room was. Pulling out a loose pair of sweats and a grey hoodie, you didn’t hesitate to strip in front of the two girls. Having known them since childhood, it was an uncommon occurrence for the three of you to change in front of each other. And this was no different. Though Morgana’s brows furrowed as her eyes found a scar cutting straight across your chest, from just above your left breast, over the centre of your breastbone, to down below the right-hand side of your ribcage. It was gnarled and jagged, a slice made without much care, but you couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t have it.

“That’s new, when’dya get that?” She asked, eyeing you suspiciously. You’re head cocked to one side, raising a brow in confusion.

“I’ve always had this, whaddya mean?” An ember of concern ignited in your gut as you regarded her for a moment. You watched the way her eyes lost focus, almost dissociating for a moment, before she shook her head to clear the haze behind her eyes.

“Right… yeah no you totally have. Sorry, must be goin’ nuts.” The girl grinned, and you inhaled a relieved breath. You didn’t need Morgana careening off the rails right now. She was the one who kept you stable, or at least less grumpy.

“S’alright. Tough few days?” You tugged on your sweats, already hating the fact that in two hours, you’d have to be getting ready for work. It took an hour to commute to the bar, that’s if the buses were on time and not disappearing randomly. God you fucking hated the public transport here.

Morgana nodded a little absently as if still fighting back whatever brain fog she’d just encountered. “Yeah, something like that…” She trailed off, and you didn’t push any further. It happens to all of you from time to time. You were talking to Altlas the other day about the way you’d all graffiti the walls of your first hideout when you were kids, talking in detail about the first sketch you’d done before transferring it onto the wall. Only, he didn’t remember it that way. You went back and forth for a while, until he had that same faraway look enter his eye, and all of a sudden he was agreeing with you, as if a switch was flipped in his brain.

“Oh! Before he left Joseph said you could have the rest of his milkshake, by the way. In payment for the pasta you made him yesterday.” Erin chimed in, examining her nails, her legs sprawled across your bed like it was her own. And honestly, you all acted like that. The rooms were all pretty communal at this point, you’d known each other for so long.

You perked up a little. Milkshake and bacon? Maybe getting up before midday was worth it after all. Not that it was much before midday now, and in fact, the small alarm on your watch just told you it had just gone twelve. Only two hours til you needed to leave.

Fucking great.

“Kind of him, I’d take it with me if Carlos wasn’t such a stickler for company drinks. I think he’d stab me if I brought in my own…” You half-joked, to both Erin and Morgana’s morbid shock.

“Girl we really need to get you a new job.”

“Like, ASAP…” Morg finished, and you scoffed slightly. You didn’t need one that badly. Just one within the next few years would be nice…

You blew out a breath, standing from your bed after pulling on a pair of warm socks. There was a winter chill in the air, and you were certain this year was going to be a cold one. You could feel it in your bones. Rubbing at your arms, you almost slipped down the stairs, Morgana’s hand instantly steadying your steps in a hand clutching your arm. How fucking tired were you? It felt like your legs straight up didn’t damn work.

“Enjoy your trip?” You heard Rowan call from the stove, and you clenched your jaw against your dumb smile. God, you hated that joke. Or, at least, you told yourself you did, when in actual fact it made you smile every damn time he said it.

“Ha-ha, yeah ‘see you next fall’ you’re so fucking funny Ro’.” Smoothing your brow with your hand, you went to sit at the breakfast far, the rest of your found family having forsaken a dining table upon moving in and instead opting for this slightly decrepit, unstable wooden bar with garish-coloured seats that were various heights. Even the lighting matched the anarchy of the decor, the scrappy bulb flickering every so often. None of the furniture matched in your apartment but to be honest, that was part of the reason you loved it so much. It was chaotic, but it was home.

Your heart spasmed in pain, to the point where your brow furrowed. What the fuck just happened? Rowan seemed to have noticed as well, sending your an inquisitive look, which you instantly brushed off. Nothing to worry about. At least, not yet.

Rowan shrugged, shimmying the pan of baken in his hand before removing three slices and placing them on a plate before you, alongside a freshly washed fork clearly leftover from last night’s takeout they all had that you weren’t invited to because you were at fucking work goddamnit.

“Thanks, Ro’, smells great.” You offered him a small smile, one he returned, before heading over to the far too-small fridge to dig out the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d said you could have. You didn’t mind making pasta for him yesterday. In fact, you kind of enjoyed it. Most of the time, when the rest of your family ate, you were at work so you never got the opportunity to cook for them. That was mostly down to Rowan unless he was working the late shift at his apprenticeship, in which case the two of you would leave together and the other’s had to fend for themselves.

It was often a bombsite when you’d return.

With the first mouthful of crispy, smokey bacon, you quickly decided getting out of bed was worth the aggravation, even more so when you dumped a whole load of maple syrup onto your plate. You don’t think you’d ever met a Canadian in your life, but if and when you did, you might just have to kiss them for even being associated with maple syrup.

Speaking of sweet treats…

“Anyone want one of my special hot chocs? I’m annoyed and up early so my treat for having to deal with me,” you grinned a little wickedly into your milkshake, the room whirling in complete surprise, to the point where you had to hold up your hands in defence. “What did I say?”

“Whaddya mean ‘special hot choc’?” Rowan asked accusingly. “I’ve never taught you how to make hot chocolate before!”

“Yeah, I’m with Ro on this one. Since when did you have a special hot chocolate recipe?” Erin almost pouted, as if you’d deliberately been keeping it from her.

You thought for a moment. They were right, you didn’t always have a hot chocolate recipe. You only learned that from…

Wait, who?

And when you went…

Wait, where?

Maybe you didn’t have a special recipe after all. Were you just remembering things wrong? YOu must be. Where and when would you have picked up a special recipe for Christ’s sake? You haven’t been anywhere with anyone to have done that.

Must have been the exhaustion talking. The lights flickered again.

“Must be going crazy…” you mumbled, accepting the fact that no, you didn’t have a special hot chocolate recipe.

You felt something wither away and die in your chest.

“You really gotta stop all those late nights.” Rowan placed a hand on your shoulder, concern etched in the pinch of his brow. It hadn’t been too long ago you and Rowan had fought, the argument you’d had still echoing in your brain. It was over your mutation, and his since it was so similar yet the complete opposite. He’d berated you for not having gained control of it yet after accidentally plunging a supermarket in a blanket of shadow upon finding out they were out of your favourite bread. It wasn’t your fault, really, but you’d made the whole situation worse when you lost complete control.

Three people were taken to hospital.

Two of them died.

You shook your head. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. You’d managed to repair the relationship between you and your brother, there was no point dwelling on the past.

The idle chatter of the kitchen continued as you fell silent, turning your attention instead to the strange series of dreams you’d been having. Most of you only remembered because Morgana would remind you multiple times a day by bringing it up all the time. But there was one thing you hadn’t told her that had occurred in almost every single dream you had.

One word.

Or an animal you guessed.

Or a bug.

Were bugs animals?

Did the animal kingdom include fish and birds as well as mammals?

Shit, you were getting off-topic. Your brows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember your train of thought. What the fuck were you just thinking about? Your jaw clenched with the effort of remembering. You swore you were deep within–

Firefly.

The chair clattered behind you as you shot from your seat, eyes round and wide in panic. What the fuck was going on? Where were you? You could barely register the faces of those around you, but you knew you hadn’t seen them all in a long long time. You weren’t supposed to be here. None of this was real. You were back, he’d found you again. Shit! Where was L–

“You okay…?”

The tension left your body as Morgana settled a hand on your shoulder, her auburn brows pinched in worry. Darkness swam at the edges of your vision, before you shook your head slightly, freeing yourself of your daze.

“Yeah… shit, yeah, sorry. Fuck, what is wrong with me today?” Your voice shook slightly as you gave your family a slightly nervous smile, bending to pick the chair back up. Fuck, you really needed to sleep more. Fucking job was going to kill you off. For sure.

A quick flick of your wrist and you saw you had around an hour and a half before you needed to leave. A heavy sigh blew from your lips as you downed the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d so kindly donated to you, before shooting an annoyed look to the bulb as it briefly turned the kitchen into a club dancefloor, before winking out completely.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me…” Rowan lamented, placing down whatever protein shake he’d opted for the morning and dragging over a barstool to stand on. “I told Naji we needed to get this shit fixed and he told me he’d text the landlord, but this is just–”

None of you were strangers to natural phenomena. You were fucking mutants, for Christ’s sake, your very existence was a natural phenomenon. However, watching a barstool blink out of existence entirely wasn’t exactly on your list of things you’d ever seen. Or even things you would like to see. Rowan was cut off midsentence as he crashed to the floor.

You all stood in utterly stunned silence.

“Y’all saw that too, right?” Erin asked, glancing warily around the room before taking a small step toward Atlas next to the window. Well, that was one suspicion you’d had confirmed then. Tension thickened the air, static apprehension making your saliva sweet and your breath hot. What the fuck was going on?

Rowan stood from the ground, dusting himself off, his gaze tracking warily around the perimeter of the room. Another mutant, perhaps? It wasn’t exactly common in the area, but it wasn’t unheard of. Some poor kid with shitty control over their new mutation discovers their first big act of power was accidentally erasing a barstool out of existence. “Chill out, it’s most likely a power cut or some new electromagnetic mutation. We’re fine.” Rowan attempted to soothe, though his voice was anything but convincing. Especially when a squeaked gasp emitted from next to the window, where Atlas had flipped up the blind to the outside world.

“Does the sun get power cuts too? Or did you just absorb a bunch of light this morning, Ro?” Morgana asked, though her eyes were trained on the pitch black outside the crummy window. You crossed the kitchen alongside Rowan, the five of your leaning out of the window to get a good look at whatever the fuck was going on.

Or rather… not going on.

“What the hell…?” Rowan muttered as you all watched the outside world flicker in and out of existence. One second it would be the neighbourhood you’d come to know so well, the next the sky turned grey and grainy, like an old TV trying to find signal. The flat next door would completely disappear, replaced by walls of steel. Your heart raced, stomach flipping.

“Joseph’s still at work…” You breathed, and Morgana turned to you as if she’d only just realised it too, fear flickering in her dark crimson eyes.

“I’ll text him, let me–” Atlas was cut off swiftly, the floor beneath your feet flickering, before that too completely disappeared, and you were all plummeting to the ground. Wind whipped at your hair as you desperately flung your arms out in search of a shadow.

“ERIN!” Morgana screamed as Erin’s hand extended before her, attempting to search for some kind of plant life. But your flat had become nothing, merely glitches of light around you. A strong arm circled your waist and turned to see Rowan’s golden eyes wide with fear.

“My shadow!” He called, flipping the two of you so you were beneath him. You didn’t think twice, trusting he had a plan before your molecules dissolved into the darkness across his front. You could still hear the rush of wind, Morgana’s cry of pain before the descent started to slow and you could sense various shadows around you growing. The moment your world seemed solid enough, you reformed, your eyes taking a moment to adjust before you registered Altas healing the nasty looking cut on Morgana’s hand, blue glowing particles rising from where his palm encased her hand.

She must have slowed your fall, the steel floor now a pool of blood where she’d borderline drained herself to save the rest of you. Wordlessly, you crossed to where she swayed slightly, placing her arm around your shoulder to act as a support.

“Thanks…” She murmured, closing her eyes to recover from that woozy feeling of using too much of her power. You went to brush off her gratitude, to tell her it was the least you could do after she’d just saved your lives, before part of the wall before you started to close in an inch. With a hiss and a screech, the steel split in two, casting a rectangle of blinding light and causing you all to throw up your hands.

“Guys?”

You all knew that voice, and there was a collective sigh of relief when Joseph stepped through the door. But the voice you knew to be full of jokes and laughter sounded exhausted, beaten. Defeated. Where the fuck had he been?

“Joes? What the fuck is going on?” Rowan called, dimming the light so you could all remove your hand-shaped shields from your eyes. “Where’ve you– Holy shit are you okay?” Rowan ran forward, catching Joes as his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

A gasp flew from your lips. He was caked in blood. And not in the way Mogana would be if she somehow lost control. He’d been hurt. Badly. Almost surgically. Various parts of his skin had been removed to leave behind raw, pulsing muscle exposed to the outside. His face had been all but completely disfigured, where his eyes used to be dark and inviting, the whites were now bloodshot and his pupils dilated.

“Move,” Atlas instructed sternly, Rowan shifting slightly to the side before he lay his hands on Joes’ chest in the same way he did for Morgana, those same blue particles rising and winding around Joes like grapevines, dipping into his various wounds and closing them over.

“They’re here to help us,” Joes muttered, his head lolling to look back out the gap in the wall. What the fuck was he talking about? Help you do what? One moment you were all having brunch and you were sipping a milkshake, the next your fucking flat had disappeared and you’d all plummeted fifty feet straight down.

You cast Morgana a confused glance, now recovering quickly, and she sent you one right back. “Who’s here?” You asked, eyes lingering on the fear in Morgo’s before Joes pointed out beyond the darkness and into the light.

Three elongated shadows shrouded the light, but it was the one in the centre who drew your attention. Broad-shouldered, strong-armed, with two little flicks of hair licked up either side of his head. You knew that outline, like a memory forgotten, or a faded dream. With the light behind them, you couldn’t see their faces, but you could see they all wore the same suits. The girl on the right gasped, her hands covering her mouth as she almost fell to her knees.

Morgana tilted her head in confusion, and you shrugged, not taking your eyes from the three shrouded figures.

Though you felt a well of unspecific emotion rise in your chest as the man in the centre spoke, his tone soft, voice deep and gruff.

“Hey, firefly.”

Logan didn’t know what he would say to you when he saw you again. When Jean had told him they’d found a lead, he expected it to be at least another month before anything would actually happen about it. He wasn’t expecting the entire team to have assembled already, suits and all, prepared to head out that night. His chest constricted with impatience when the team were stalking the halls. He knew they all had the element of surprise, but if he was being honest, stealth was never really his strong suit. He just wanted to find you. He just wanted to hold you and apologise as many times as he needed to in order to ease the heavy weight of guilt off his shoulders.

What would he say to you? How much he’d fucking missed you? How sorry he was he couldn’t protect you. How he’d promised he’d keep you safe and then lost you? But the moment those doors opened and he saw you, with Sanguine leaning heavily on your shoulders, all and any words quickly left his mind. You looked tired. That wasn’t to say you didn’t always look tired, but you looked fucking exhausted. Dangerously skinny, as well. The muscles on your arms had all but faded, your cheeks had hollowed, and your neck looked like it could be snapped with a light breeze. Fuck you looked so fragile.

“We’re gonna get you out, okay?” Logan took a step forward, only for you and the rest of the mutants to take a step back. A spear thudded into the centre of his soul as he watched you try to figure out what was going on. But it was the look in your eyes that shattered every fibre of his being.

Unfamiliarity.

You had no idea who he was.

“They don’t remember,” Joes said, rising from the floor once Atlas had taken a step back away from Logan, Scott and Kitty. She’d insisted she came with the rest of the team and said she’d just hide in the walls anyway, so they may as well take her along willingly. Scott begrudgingly agreed.

“We don’t remember what?” Logan’s eyes slid to the man with the golden hair and eyes, who looked remarkably similar to you. Rowan. His eyes narrowed. “Joes what the fuck is going on? What don’t we remember? Who are you fuckers?”

“Rowan!” The man next to him hissed. Judging from his appearance and general attitude, Logan guessed that must have been Atlas, or Harmony. He’d already run into Joseph, and rescued him when Ororo controlled enough lightning to short out their electrical units, plunging the facility into total darkness. All that was left of that practice room was blood and entrails.

Logan had made sure of it.

“None of this is real, Ro’. They’ve been forcing Naji to fuck with our minds, man. Every time one of us goes to ‘work’, they take us out into the real world and fuck with us. You saw the state I was in, man. C’mon!” Joseph pleaded, and Logan could see the cogs turning in your brain as if trying to process what he was saying.

“The fuck are you talking about?” The girl with the bright green hair piped up, boldly stepping towards Joseph and dragging him back towards the rest of the group protectively. “Who’s ‘they’? Whaddya mean fuck with us?”

“Naji wouldn’t do that, Joes.” Your just managed to keep the tremor from your voice, dropping Morgana’s arm from around your shoulders and taking a cautious step towards your brother. What the fuck was going on? You looked between the three newcomers, the girl on the right stepped forward, and your eyes narrowed on her. “Another step and you’re dead.” You hissed, extending your hand behind you to the shadows as if you could do anything but disappear into them. Morgana drew out her knife from her boot and sliced open her palm, blood swirling and morphing until three sharp spears floated above her head.

“Let’s all just take a breath…” Logan murmured in an attempt to soothe the rising tensions in the room. Why he’d thought this would go smoothly, he had no idea and found his present self kicking his past self for making such stupid fucking assumptions. He held out his palms in peace, trying in vain to come across as non-threatening as possible, his eyes trained on you. ���It’s okay…” His brows pinched as you looked at him with disdain.

Who the fuck was this guy? Sure he looked and sounded exactly the same as your dream visitor, but you refused to believe they were one of the same. Just some freaky coincidence, and you didn’t even know if his mutation was the same. He hadn’t shown anything yet, and for all you knew, it could be something completely different.

But a hole of doubt had burned through your gut.

“Wait… isn’t that–”

“Shut the fuck up, Morgo.” You hissed before Morgana could even finish her inquiry. You knew exactly what she was about to ask, you’d felt her eyes flicker between you and the man ever since he’d called you firefly.

Total coincidence…

“She has a point though. Naji wouldn’t do that to us. Sure he’s antisocial and spends most of his time in his room, but we’re still his friends. His family. He wouldn’t do that… would he?” Uncertainty laced Erin’s tone as she eyed the three outsiders suspiciously, reaching into her back pocket. You glanced her way, holding your breath. You knew what he had stored away in her cargo pants, not just in her back pocket, but in all of them. Various seeds for every variety of plant you could think of, her favourite being the Venus fly trap because of course that was Erin’s favourite plant.

Logan’s chest spasmed at Erin’s words. He knew he was going to have to take them all to Charles and return their memories to them. Not knowing what would happen to the bonds you’d all made with each other terrified him. What if that just made everything ten times worse? What if you and the others remembered everything and decided to go along with Kreva’s plan? He’d already seen Rowan, Morgana and Joseph working for Kreva…

What would stop them this time?

“This is taking too damn long…” Scott muttered, throwing a glance behind his shoulder to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them. Logan couldn’t help but agree. It was taking far too long. He didn’t want to take any of you by force. That was a last resort, and only if you couldn’t be convinced. If it went against your current wishes, he honestly didn’t give a fuck. You weren’t safe here. You were back where you started, and he’d be fucking damned if he was leaving without you today. Taking the others was a luxury, taking you was the priority.

“Let me talk to them. Please. They don’t know what’s going on. Naji restores our memories before the testing begins, but they’re always erased and replaced when we come back. They don’t know anything, just give them time.” Logan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Joseph. He was the only one out of the group, perhaps other than Naji, who knew what was going on and was stuck between saving his friends and getting the fuck out of there.

“You have thirty seconds.”

“Scott!” It was the first time Kitty had spoken up since seeing you, and to be honest, Logan had almost completely forgotten she was there. She’d been non-verbal, dealing with whatever she was dealing with after seeing you in the state you were in for the first time in two months. Now, however, she seemed to have recovered.

Unlike Logan, who still found it difficult to look at you, yet equally difficult to look away.

“Thank you, man,” Joseph nodded his head in gratitude, before turning back to the rest of the group. “Look, I don’t know how to convince you, but they got a mutant back at this crazy mutant school that can help get your memories back. He’s like, the only one other than Naji who can do it.”

“If this is true,” you began, folding your arms across your chest in a way that had Logan holding his breath, the familiarity nauseating. “Then why don’t we just ask Naji to restore them? He’s our fucking friend, Joes. Why would he do this?” You implored him to see reason. To see that there was no reality where Naji would work against the group, antisocial or not.

“Because they’ve–”

“Now now, Subject Three. Don’t go spoiling all of our secrets now, will you?”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, though the voice meant nothing to you. You didn’t recognise it at all, but you noticed the way the three newcomers all bristled and the way Joes seemed to shrivel in fear. Following ‘Scott’’s gaze, you looked up to see Naji, bruised and beaten, his neck held in a vice grip by some formless, faceless figure with a large gun slung over his back. The mirrored window had been smashed open, blood leaking from Naji’s knuckles as his legs dangled over the side, held out over the shattered glass by the throat.

“Joes…” Rowan growled in instruction, the rest of you already being on the same page. Joes could teleport not only himself but various other people of different numbers depending on size and mass. But the man just stood there, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring in utter terror as Naji gurgled and fought against the hold around his neck.

“Kreva.” You heard the muscular man behind you snarl, and your mind did somersaults as three long, razor-sharp claws slid from his knuckles. There was no point in denying it anymore. It was most definitely the same mutant from your dreams.

“Ah, The Wolverine. How darling to see you again. Here for Subject Eight, I presume? There’s no point. It remembers nothing of your cosy little forest getaway.” Dr Kreva covered his mouth theatrically, gasping as if he’d made a terrible mistake. “Oh no, have I said too much? No matter. Once all you X-men are disposed of, this will be nothing but a bad dream to them. Isn’t that right, Eight?” It took a moment to realise the skinny, crooked-nosed man was addressing you, but how the fuck were you supposed to know that when he wasn’t even calling you by your name. And what the fuck did he mean by ‘cosy forest getaway’? You’d never even left the city.

“The fuck is going on…?” You asked aloud, taking a step back and towards Joes, who was still stuck in frozen, abject horror. “Joes… you gotta get him. He’s gonna fucking kill him!” You hit his arm with enough force to break the man from his terror-stricken paralysis, only for him to blink away from you, shaking his head wildly as if his mind was a wasp’s nest, his nails digging into either side of his temple.

“No no no nono nononononono–” Your mouth fell agape in fear as he fell to his knees, small rivulets of blood leaking down either side of his face as he clawed at the sides of his head.

“Joes?”

“Joes!”

“The hell?”

Adrenaline pumped through your blood as you slowly started to realise whatever the fuck was going on, it very much was not good. In fact, it was most likely that all of your lives were on the line. And you knew that right here, right now, you had to make a choice. You all did.

“You got a clear shot, Scott?” Kitty asked, stepping behind Logan slightly. Though he didn’t mind. As long as she was safe and out of the line of whatever fire could come their way, he was more comfortable. Now if only he could get you in a similar way.

“Lined up.”

“Don’t shoot!” Rowan waved his arms frantically as Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses, jumping between the mutant and his friend. “If you shoot Naji’s dead, for sure. Just– just hold on, okay? We can figure this out.” He pleaded, to the amusement of Dr. Kreva from above, his cackling laughter sure to haunt your nightmares for a good long while after.

“Oh, Five… always the peacekeeper. Always the pacifist. It’s a shame you’re such a killing machine, though nothing like your sibling. We should showcase that, Eight. Show them all what you’re capable of…” Kreva placed a thumb and forefinger beneath his chin mockingly, once again making a show of having you all at his mercy. “In fact… One, if you could. Not too much though, just enough to unleash the Phantom.” You felt your blood turn to ice in your veins. That was your mutant name… how the fuck did he–

Pain ripped through your mind as you fell to your knees, your hands biting painfully as you caught yourself before you broke your nose on the ground. Though where you should have felt cold steel, you instead heard the groaning of tight leather and a low grunt of impact.

It felt as if you were being unstitched, torn open with a rusty knife. Your head split apart and searched inside as Naji’s mutation invaded your conscience. You heard a scream coming from somewhere but were too focused on trying to stay sane as memory fragments of pure agony were thrust into the inner walls of your mind, scraping down your subconscious. White hot pain laced through your throat and you finally realised it was you screaming, your voice cracking and breaking as you fought Naji’s hold.

Rowan screamed your name as Logan lunged forward to catch your fall, dragging you into his lap and holding your arms by your sides. “We gotta go!” He roared to Scott, who nodded in agreement, barking out orders just as Kurt bamfed into existence. Morgana reached for you as Kurt placed his three-fingered hand on her shoulder, her desperate scream cut short as she was teleported from the room. Logan turned his attention back to you, back to the searing torment etched on your face as you writhed in his arms. “I know baby, I know, it hurts, just hold on.” He called your name soothingly, though his voice shook. Seeing you like this, in such pain, ripped at his self-control. And he loathed how you would have to do this all again when he got you back home.

What Logan didn’t know, was that you’d heard his voice, and held onto it. You wouldn’t let yourself be manipulated so easily. Fighting Naji hurt. It hurt like hell. He was fucking strong, winding a white-hot thread of memories throughout your head, but you thrashed and flailed from his twisting web, using your dream visitor’s voice as an anchor point.

“What’s happening to her?” Logan’s eyes left your face for two seconds to meet with a pair of golden ones he’d only ever seen fighting against him. Rage flared in his gut as he thought of the man who’d assisted in your capture, but this wasn’t the same guy. Sure, he had his body and his face and his powers, but this was a sibling. A brother. He was your brother, and Logan could see that in the way terror pinched his brows and widened his eyes.

“I don’t know, but we need to get her out. Now.” Logan responded, removing a hand from your arm to smooth back your hair as your neck all but snapped backwards, head almost rolling off his lap completely as your entire body contorted violently. It was getting worse.

Rowan nodded, a flicker of determination glittering in his golden eyes, before extending his hand out towards the light. “I can buy you time. Get her safe,” he instructed, and Logan found his rage toward him settling slightly. “I’m R–”

“Rowan. Yeah, I know. She spoke about you a shit ton.” He gave Rowan a half smile as his head tilted in confusion. Logan held out his hand. “Logan.”

Though the bafflement didn’t fade, Rowan shook his hand nonetheless, before getting to his feet, his hand still extended towards the light. “When I say run, run.”

“Thought you were a pacifist?” Logan asked, holding you tight against his chest as he lifted you from the ground, the shadows in the room now quivering in anticipation. Naji was winning. With a glance to both Scott and Kitty, he could see they’d been listening in and were ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Not when they threaten my fucking sister,” He spat, the skin along his forearms and neck beginning to glow a bright, blinding white. “Go.” Was all he said, before the room erupted in sunlight, and Logan took off at a sprint, keeping you close to his heart. He had you back physically, your strained breaths and grunted whimpers told him that much.

Now he just needed to get you back mentally. And for that, he needed Charles.

“S’okay, you’re okay, just a little longer baby, I know…” he soothed as he raced round the corner, struggling to hold you still as you fought his hold, the darkness of the corridor lashing out in great, spiked tendrils, slashing at his arms and legs and leaving searing lines of crimson through the leather of his suit. His stomach flipped as he looked down at you, your spine arching back, head snapping, eyes rolling up behind your skull leaving behind nothing but black, hollow darkness. He was losing you. Fuck, he was losing you.

“C’mon on sweetheart, c’mon.” He ground, feet pounding against the floor as one of his shoulders was ripped back, knives of pure shadow tearing through flesh. He grit his teeth against the pain, racing through a set of open doors and launching the two of you towards the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Your mouth opened as you released a strangled scream, your limbs jerking and flailing in his grasp, Logan almost losing his grip on your writhing body. Tucking your head between his collar and jaw, he pressed on until he could finally see the service door they’d snuck in through. “S’okay, not much farther now. Keep fightin’ him, firefly. You gotta keep fightin’.”

Serrated knives tore through your memories, flashes of pure, unadulterated agony rushing your nerves, setting your veins alight with liquid fear. Thrashing your head back, you attempted to clear your mind’s eye of Naji’s hold, razorwire slicing at the base of your brain. You had very little knowledge of brain anatomy, only knowing the basics, but you knew for certain he was attempted to break through your hippocampus both physically and hypothetically. But you held onto him. Onto the man who, in turn, held you. A kernel of safety shining within the ocean of fiery anguish. You held onto his voice, their meaning.

Shadows swirled around your wrists, encasing your hands in two sets of obsidian claws, raking down both sides of Logan’s arms. You were losing the battle, he knew you were, if Joseph was right and you didn’t remember anything, there was no way you’d have this kind of control over your mutation. Using his already-healed shoulder, he burst through the locked service door and barrelled down the stone tunnel, out into the night-air. He didn’t know what Obscurity’s range was for his mutation, but he had to assume it was limitless. Anything less and he was likely to let his guard down.

Breath burned in his lungs as he sprinted for the jet, hearing the door behind him open and close another two times for both Scott and Kitty. He didn’t know how many of your friends Kurt had managed to rescue, but it didn’t matter to him. You were there, in his arms. And as long as that was his reality, he didn’t give a shit about anything else.

His feet thundered against the metal of the ramp, and ducking into the deck of the Blackbird, he was greeted by an extremely concerned-looking Jean the moment her eyes lay on you.

“Help me…” Logan begged, collapsing to his knees, and the redhead wasted no time in extending her hand towards your rapidly twitching head, veins of pitch black etching their way up your neck towards your temples. Instantly, Jean grimaced, her mouth gaping in some unseen pain as she entered your mind. All Logan could do was sit and watch helplessly as she engaged in some kind of mental battle with Naji. Her brows pinched with effort, the tendons along the backs of her hands flexing and tensing with strain. Logan desperately swiped your sweat-matted hair from your brow as if to clear a better path for Jean’s mutation.

“Jean!” Scott barked, fear echoing around the deck of the jet as he lunged forward towards his girlfriend, only to be held back by Ororo, who looked utterly exhausted. She’d been high above the facility, concentrating on keeping the power down with various surges of lightning. And now she looked completely spent.

Slowly, gradually, your twitching started to cease, each muscle in your body relaxing separately as Jean managed to exorcise your mind of Naji’s manipulation, until you sagged in Logan’s arms, your breathing steady, your eyes closed as if you were just sleeping. Scott broke free of Ororo’s hold, rushing for Jean before she collapsed onto the hard ground. “You okay?” He asked, bracing her face in between his palms. Jean offered him a tired nod, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Got her back.” She murmured, and Logan clenched his jaw to stop tears welling in his eyes. He gently manoeuvred your body to lie comfortably in his lap, the back of your head nestled in the crook of his elbow, his arm encasing your waist. You were back.

You were back.

Kitty knelt beside you, a hand grasping your limp, skeletal one, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. Logan knew what she was thinking. What she was contemplating. What had they done to you? What fresh horrors would you be battling once they returned your memories? Logan’s thumb slowly caressed your protruding ribs. He’d be there with you. Whatever you had to endure next, whatever fresh hell awaited you when you woke, he’d be right there next to you.

“We gotta go…” Scott muttered urgently to Ororo, who looked out beyond the ramp to the Blackbird, awaiting Kurt’s next arrival.

“We can’t… they’re still in there!” Morgana raised her head from where she’d been sat on one of the seats. “Atlas, Joseph, Naji and Rowan are still–” she was cut off by another puff of blue smoke, Kurt falling to the ground and releasing Rowan’s arm from around his shoulder. Blood leaked from the blonde’s nose, his hands braced against the steel as he caught his breath.

“Is she okay?” Were his first words, barely looking around before his golden eyes rested on your unconscious form and Logan’s protective hold. He could almost smell your brother’s disdain, his nostrils flaring as he slowly pieced together the narrative in front of him. “Logan, right?”

Logan nodded once, returning Rowan’s cold look with one of his own, baring his teeth ever so slightly as he tried to gauge the threat of you being taken from him again. Rowan visually backed off, his expression to exhaustion. “I guess a lot can happen when you don’t see someone for eight years. As long as you take care of her, that’s cool with me.” Rowan shrugged, having recognised just exactly what he was looking at.

As the Blackbird rose from the ground, Morgana clicked the belt across her middle and shakily made her way over to sit next to Rowan, eyes flickering between you and him.

“So… those dreams she had… they were actually memories?” She asked him slowly, and it took a moment for Logan to process all the subtext of the question before he nodded again. Even with your memories replaced, you could never truly forget him. The realisation made his chest swell and his heart ache. He was acutely aware of Rowan listening into the conversation. “Holy shit…” She breathed, tapping your arm lightly. “I hope you’re listening, you lucky bitch. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

So this was the Morgana from the reports. This was the girl he’d read about, not the one who aided in your capture two months ago. What the fuck had Kreva done to you all? How could he get Naji to manipulate you all in such a way? To the point where you’d all help him. Although it was a nice breath of fresh air for even a thread of humour to be woven into the cockpit. “Right, Erin? You’re with me on this, yeah?”

Morgana turned to the green-haired girl who’d curled up against the wall, her hands hugging her knees against her chest. “Erin…?” Morgana asked tentatively, and only then did Erin look up.

“We fucking left them.” She spat, her eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. “Atlas… Joes, Naji…. We just fucking left them. You got your precious Phantom back and just abandoned the rest of them.” Her hands flexed around her knees, chest tight.

“I’m sorry…” Kurt piped up from where he’d been nursing a small graze on his arm. “I couldn’t… It was carnage in there. I rescued who I could but–”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t fucking good enough. Who said we even needed rescuing anyway? This could all be total bullshit.” She hissed through gritted teeth, and Rowan placed a hand protectively on your shoulder. Logan knew he shouldn’t have bristled the way he did, the man had proven himself loyal, but he couldn’t help the memories of that night flashing to the forefront of his mind.

“Erin, we’re not abandoning them. We’re gonna go get them back, right?” Rowan looked to the rest of Logan’s team, who in turn looked at each other in uncertainty. They had you back. That’s what they came for. But something niggled at Logan’s mind. You wouldn’t stop there. If the tables had been turned and you were saving him, you wouldn’t stop until everyone was safe. He himself included, but that was given.

“No. We’re not abandoning them,” He spoke for his team, five heads snapping towards him, each with their own look of shock. “Ya know she’s just gonna go after them herself, right? And she wouldn’t stop til they’re all safe. And I dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t letting her do that alone.” He finished, and Kitty smiled at him with tearful determination.

“Agreed.” She said, turning to the rest of the team. Ororo nodded and Scott sighed heavily, only swayed when Jean placed a hand on his arm.

“Alright then… guess that’s our next mission.” Scott sighed, irate.

“Thank you. They’re our friends so we really– Joes?” Morgana’s head tilted to the side as suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, Joseph blinked to existence, Rowan’s wrist held firmly in his grasp. Logan’s heart stopped. This wasn’t the same mutant they’d saved from testing during the mission. His eyes were glazed over, subdued hatred burning in his pupils as Rowan turned to his friend.

“Just Five.” He rasped, white foam leaking from his cracked lips.

“Joes? What’s–”

“ROWAN!” Logan roared, lunging across your form to take hold of your brother, only his fingers grazed nothing but thin air. Whatever Naji had done to Joes, it was the same thing he’d done to Morgana that night. And Rowan all too often.

But he was gone. Your brother was gone. And now there was no debate about what you’d do when you woke.

He just hoped, that whatever Charles restored, would be enough to get your brother back too. For your sake.

[unfair-water-plane]

So one thing that has always made me chuckle in ME2 is the fact that Kal’Reegar is a marine in a Quarian suit. And he fits in with Shepard easily, the same attitude and headspace and cadence (for mShep at least). And I’m sitting here at work and the thought just hit me.

What if that’s because he is a marine in a Quarian suit?

Hear me out. Kal is older than Tali, or at least gives off those vibes, and so he would have been on his pilgrimage a while ago. Like maybe right after first contact. And here are these brand new people who came out of nowhere and had apparently enough fire power and attitude to give the Turians a very brief pause. The whole galaxy wants to know more. And humanity has no idea who is out there, but surely they can’t all be like the creepy bird people?

Cue one very curious Quarian in Shanxi, just as curious an out humanity as humanity is about everything. Meeting with early alliance brass, giving them information common palace to any kid with an extranet feed but wholly new to humanity. He explains that the Quarian don’t have ground forces because they don’t have a ground, and is honest about the geth, and is like ‘so how did you make the Turian Hierarchy freak out?’

And somehow ends up observing basic training, and falls in love with it. To the point where he actively asks to go through marine boot camp in Hanshan, and is just earnest and endearing enough to be allowed. So he goes through it, puts in the work and the blood and sweat and tears and makes the kinds of friends that you sort of have on the Flotilla, but everyone also knows you are all going to separate ships eventually and getting attached is hard.

But the humans will pack bond with a robot vacuum without issue, and when they meet a Quarian who wants to learn and thinks it’s amazing that they stood up to the biggest military in the galaxy running on old fashioned rocketry and spite? The marines adopt him as one of their own. They are brothers, something most single child Quarians have no experience with, and Kal gives it back in spades. He talks like them, fights like them, jokes and learns and is like them.

And when it is over and they graduate, it’s hard to turn down the offer to stay. But humanity respects the loyalty to his people that takes him back to the fleet, and it almost brings him to tears when his graduating class passes a cap for his passage back to the fleet in more comfort than sitting on a box in a volus cargo ship.

It actually brings him to tears when his drill instructor informs him that while it might not be in great shape, Arcturus has authorized them to gift Kal’Reegar with a battered but space worthy corsair and an official greeting from the Systems Alliance to the Migrant Fleet.

The SSV Jarhead is perhaps the best gift anyone is his age range can give to a future captain, though his practical military experience is a gift to the whole fleet. It catapults him through the Quarian military, from for soldier to instructor to commander, and somewhere he hopes that his brothers and sisters are as proud of them as he is of every transmission that makes it back to him.

On Haestrom, that training keeps him alive long enough to watch his squad die, and that cuts like nothing else. But he can’t stop, because the principle is still depending on him, and until his suit gives out he has to fight to her.

But then the voice cuts through the chatter of his own mind, and he *knows it*. Knows the cadence and the phrasing, knows how a human mouth forms the phrases that he has spent years trying to teach. Commander Shepard might not be a marine, but they are a human combat specialist and the fraternity is there.

Maybe it’s just three more people who are going to die for this fools errand, but somehow Kal doesn’t think so. There are two bone deep beliefs that he will carry it’s him to either the home world or the afterlife, and it has always felt appropriate to him that they rhyme. That they sound similar, when he breathes them into the air.

Keelah Salai. Semper Fi.

[dr4k3n0]

Bumps and Bruises --Fushiguro x f!reader

Synopsis: After a small mishap during training, you found yourself a bratty Megumi.

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: crackfic, Gojo being Gojo, fluff

Megumi has never been the best at close combat fighting. Hence he found himself grumbling to himself when Gojo announced that today's training would specifically be on close combat.

The agitated ravenet stood with his arms crossed with a glare plastered on his face. He was making sure Gojo could see it with all 6 of his eyes. If looks could kill, this would be a mass murder.

"Since we are doing close combat today, here's how it will go," Gojo began.

"You all will be defending against one of Principle Yaga's cursed corpses. If you can last for 5 minutes, you pass. If you don't, you fail, easy as that." He said with a stupid-looking smile.

Small nods and hums of acknowledgment were all that Gojo got back as a response. He sighed defeatedly before clapping his hands dramatically above his head.

"Now, you all will be fighting different cursed corpses based on your current fighting and defending skills," Gojo began explaining once again.

-

As you stood between Nobara and Megumi, your gaze slowly shifted to Megumi. Gojo's words began to all blur together. You already knew the rules and how this worked. But you couldn't help but admire Megumi, he stood with his arms crossed, looking very unamused. You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself when you saw his little pout.

Your eyes then traveled to his spikey raven-black hair. Then to his beautiful blue eyes. Now finally, his pretty pink lips. He was gorgeous.

-

"Y/n," Your paintbrush for a teacher called. You snapped back to reality and quickly replied with, "Yea?" You could tell he was eyeing you through his mask. A small smirk appeared on his lips as he began to speak again. "Y/n, you need to start paying attention. Looking at your boyfriend isn't going to explain the instructions to you." You blinked in shock as your mouth fell agape at what your teacher just said.

Yuuji and Nobara -- the little demons they were-- failed to hold in an obnoxiously loud laugh, and you sent them both a glare as they laughed uncontrollably. Megumi looked away from all the chaos trying to hide his blush, but also a small smile that began to take form on his lips.

Eventually, you decided to cover your face and nod to spare yourself any more embarrassment. Gojo sneered at you, he was overly proud of what he said, and you knew it.

Once Nobara and Yuuji calmed down to the point it was only little giggles every once in a while, he soon began the instructions again, "Now, go find a spot on the field and begin when I say," Gojo said as he walked off towards the bleachers.

You all began walking towards the field. Yuuji and Nobara made jokes about the way Gojo had embarrassed you, while you stayed quiet beside Megumi.

"Did you see her face when he said that?!" Yuuji giggled as he tried to impersonate the face that you made.

Nobara was cackling at the sight, clutching her stomach at how hard she was laughing. You watched them make fun of you with an unamused look on your face. Three not-to-be-named people are going to die tonight. That's for sure.

An exasperated sigh left your lips. You were beginning to plot the murderers you were about to commit. All three would suddenly go missing, and when their bodies are found, their faces will be sma-

-

"So..." Megumi said trying to break the silence.

Your eyes landed on Megumi after he broke you out of your thoughts. And like magic, all thoughts of murder left your mind.. for now. But, as far as you were concerned, Megumi's presence was all you wanted and needed right now.

"'m sorry if I embarrassed you, Gumi.." You finally decided to utter out.

You were glad that Yuuji and Nobara were too busy cackling about how embarrassed you were for once. If they heard this, you both would never hear the end of this.

Megumi could feel his face begin to heat up remembering the previous moment. He thought it was admirable that you were even bothering to look at him. To Megumi, he wasn't much of a sight to be compared to you. The fact that you were even with him, as his partner, still manages to boggle his mind. That is why he found himself smiling at his idiotic teacher's words.

"You didn't embarrass me.." Megumi mumbled quietly.

It went quiet again after his words finally registered in your head. You smiled to yourself already beginning to feel a bit less embarrassed about it.

You let out a small sigh of relief. The rest of the walk to the field was spent in comfortable silence as the leaves crunched under your feet with each step.

Soon enough, you and Megumi had made it to the field where Yuuji and Nobara stood waiting for Gojo to come back. You both joined them there.

Nobara and Yuuji were arguing about something as per usual, and you and Megumi just listened to the chaos. That was until you heard a dreadful screech. You all covered your ears and looked in the direction of the noise, and it was none other than your teacher with a megaphone.

"Alright now that I have your attention-" Gojo started, as if he was trying to play off the terrible noise the contraption just made.

"Who wants to go first?" Gojo stated. He stood awfully calm beside the cursed corpses you all would potentially be fighting against.

Silence wafted through the whole campus. All you could hear was the wind blowing through the trees and if you listened close enough, you could even hear crickets chirping. As the wind continued to blow, Yuuji eventually sneezed, ending the silence.

"Yuuji! Thanks for volunteering! You're going to be fighting this one with the blue gloves. Remember, n-" The megaphone began to squeak as Gojo was about to say something else and the high-pitched sound made you wince and cover your ears.

Bang

Bang

Bang

"Come. On. You. Piece. Of. Shi- Oh, there we go!" Gojo smiled triumphantly as he smacked the megaphone on the bleachers between words.

"As I was saying, no cursed technique. Now, are you ready Yuuji?" Gojo continued.

"No- wait I dont wan-" Yuuji began.

"3"

"Wait Gojo, I don-"

"2"

"Wait-"

"1"

"Begin!" Gojo shouted into the megaphone, before messing with the extra noises and playing a siren noise.

The cursed corpse with the blue gloves charged at Yuuji. It ended up punching him straight in the jaw before Yuuji even registered it was starting. You all winced in sympathy for the boy. That's gonna hurt in the morning...

Yuuji soon recovered and began blocking the cursed corpse attacks, and was slowly able to dish out some of his own punches. This went on for a while until Yuuji managed to grab the cursed corpse and hold it down, causing Gojo to end his time early since he basically stopped it.

Next, he called Megumi, and you could tell from the face Megumi made, he was not happy. With an eye-roll Megumi stepped forward and got into a fighting stance while Gojo smiled at him mischievously.

"Alright, 5 minutes, ready.. set, go!" Gojo yelled into the megaphone while activating the same siren noise on the contraption.

The cursed corpse charged at Megumi, and at first, he did well. He managed to block and stop a decent amount of the attacks from the cursed corpse, landing some of his own hits too.

But, after three-ish minutes, you could tell Megumi was getting more tired, and the cursed corpse started landing more hits. Once the time was up, Gojo got the cursed corpse to stop and Megumi walked back over to you with a huff. He had a bit of a bloody nose, a busted lip, and what would probably be a black eye in the morning.

He sighed quietly and wiped his nose on his uniform before giving Gojo a look.

"I'm going to clean up," He stated, not caring if he technically had to ask, he was going.

Gojo gave him a look before chuckling as he watched Megumi grab your hand and practically dragged you to the school with him. You give Gojo a confused shrug before catching up with Megumi and walking beside him.

"Alright, I'll give you all a 15 minute break, better not go make out during that time you two!" Gojo called after you both.

Megumi grumbled under his breath at Gojo's words before his gaze shifted to you and his gaze almost seemed to soften a bit. He pushed open the doors of the school leading you to the boys bathroom, and locking it behind the both of you.

"God he's so annoying," He muttered while letting go of your hand and then looking around the bathroom for some bandages that were usually left in there.

"Gotta say I have to agree-" You add while placing your hands on his shoulder and moving him to lean against the counter of the sink.

Finding the bandages and getting a tissue, you set the now open med kit beside him and begin to gently wipe away the blood from his nose.

"That cursed corpse got you good, Megs," you comment while tossing the dirty tissue into the trash, and then focusing on the cut on his lip.

"Shut up," Megumi muttered in mock annoyance, giving you a fake glare while swatting your hand away from his face.

"God, you're almost as annoying as him," He adds, trying his hardest not to smile from his words, because really, he didn't mean it.

"Am I now?" You muse while grabbing his hand with one hand and then placing your other hand on his chin, tilting his head down to look at you. "I'd have to say I disagree with you," You add with a mischievous smile.

"I will beat you with a stick- I swear to God," he utters out while swatting your hands away again and leaning away from you.

His eyes linger on your figure while you laughed at his reaction. Yet, he couldn't help but smile and let out a small chuckle. He then wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him while he carefully brushed some hair behind your ear.

Your eyes lingered on his, your lips parting slightly as he held you close. And he almost laughed at how quickly his actions managed to shut you up. He then smiled at you for a moment and placed a soft kiss to your forehead, while his other hand moved to cradle your jaw.

His thumb brushed against your cheek carefully before he leaned back a little to look into your eyes. He chuckled at how you almost seemed to melt into his touch.

"You gonna keep your mouth shut, now?" He quipped while caressing your jaw with his thumb.

It almost took you a moment to snap out of your thoughts, but you soon smiled happily and wrapped your arms around him. "No, wait- now give me a proper kiss," You whine while looking at him with puppy eyes.

"Nah, that can wait," Megumi mused with a smirk. He then completely pulled away from you and made his way to the exit.

"You comin'? It's your turn to get attacked by the cursed corpse," Megumi added while placing his hands in his pockets and walking out of the bathroom, leaving you there wanting more.

God, was he annoying.

[flamebearrel]

“But Kris, if I wanted to watch Anim vs. with all the different series how should I even go about it??”

It largely depends on the topics and cast you’re interested in seeing. The show is split into three subseries as well as the occasional standalone episode/miniseries: Animator vs. Animation (the original created in 2006-7 by Alan Becker alone), Animation vs. Minecraft (the longest and most popular, shorts stemming off a standalone from 2015), and Animation vs. Education (the newest from 2023, visualizing high-level STEM concepts)

Personally, I think core AvA is required reading for anyone who has appreciation for past eras of the internet, UI, or principles and genres of animation. AvM and AvE are equal in quality but honestly you won’t appreciate them as much if you aren’t familiar with the topics they cover. Alan and his team do try to visually introduce things step by step, though, so you can at least get a general idea of what you’re looking at

Besides that, core AvA specifically follows the Hollow-Heads, hand-drawn stick figures created by the Animator, “noogai”/Alan. In particular you have The Chosen One (shortened to Chosen, Cho or TCO) and The Second Coming (aka Second, Sec, TSC or Orange). TSC is the de facto main character and the only one appearing in all three series, while TCO and the Animator are exclusive to the original.

The SticksFight squad - the four sticks originating from sticksfight.com and named after their colors - have developed distinct personalities as the main cast of AvM, but only take a collective side role in main AvA (Yellow has a slightly larger role than the others). Here’s a summary of their individual personalities so you know what to look for in their smaller appearances

Red - Impulsive and energetic, always the first to jump into action and with a soft heart for creatures and beasties. He’s a little simple when it comes to technical things, but excels with reading the people around him, then building off of their quirks. Since the rest of the group babies him a bit, he puts in extra physical work to prove he can hold his own. Red also tends to play around with new or out-of-the-box solutions - knowledge that extends to his pranks. Most ready to fight with his fists or use heavy-hitters like maces and clubs. (Good intro/focus eps: The Rediscovery, Texture Pack, Monster School, The Prank)

Blue - A mellow fellow! Blue is one with nature and focuses on farming, cooking, and potionology. Due to her pacifistic tendencies, Blue prefers to reason things out or find other solutions rather than fighting, but will throw herself into the face of danger for others. Otherwise she takes up ranged weapons like guns and bows. She’s detail- and aesthetic-oriented as well as graceful, but doesn’t often step outside what she knows. A bit of an addiction to nether wart, which is somewhere between an unusual snack and a drug. (Good intro/focus eps: Potions, The Piglin War, The Chef, Blue’s New Superpower)

Yellow - She loves more than anything to get down to the root of things, and that makes her the group’s engineer! …And a bit of a troublemaker, paying more attention to the thrill of a discovery than the consequences. Yellow tries to find fairness and justice for friend and foe alike. While they have a reliable, supportive demeanor, they’re also very peppy, excitable and tough with how they stand strong in dire situations. Often her fighting style takes place behind the scenes, using things like explosives or a command-casting staff. (Good intro/focus eps: The Roller Coaster, Command Blocks, Lucky Blocks, AvArcade Games)

Green - Originally the weakest on the team, but has since come into his own after a lot of reflex training (read: getting tossed around). Green has great adaptability to learning new techniques and getting creative, particularly with styles of music and architecture. He loves the spotlight and usually competes with the others or takes the chance to show off; however, he also cares deeply about welcoming in those he meets. Dashes and zips around all the time during battle, usually via fishing rod-grappling hook. (Good intro/focus eps: AvYouTube, Note Blocks, PvP, The Dolphin Kingdom)

If you’re just gonna watch the REQUIRED ones this is what I recommend:

AvA s1 (1-4, previously I-IV)

AvMinecraft (original)

AvYouTube

AvA s2 (5-8, previously “shorts” combining into V)

AvMath

AvA s3 (9-ongoing)

That way you get the introduction of both subseries, with how each establishes the cast/direction, as well as one standalone. I put vs. YT here since it best fits the theme imo but you could go with vs. Pokémon or vs. Arcade Games if you prefer

If you’re willing to take on AvM/the rest of the series this is pretty much the order of the timeline:

AvA s1

AvM (original)

AvYouTube

AvM shorts s1 (1-14)

AvLeague of Legends (required for an AvM character’s development)

AvM shorts s2 (15-19)

AvA s2

Other standalones (Blue’s New Superpower + vs. ___)

AvM shorts s3 (20-30)

AvE (ongoing)

AvA s3 (ongoing)

AvM shorts s4 (ongoing)

Influencer Arc (1-3 + some interactive videos on the Greenzilla4 channel)

Or just follow my playlist!!!

[threeprinciplesaustraliaa]

Three Principles Training – What You Will Learn In This

It is so critical to zero in on the relationship that we have with ourselves as the relationship we have with others will constantly be restricted by the relationship that we have with ourselves.

This can carry similar customers to their business, make to a greater degree a specialty market, and help in cultivating a fondness between the three principles training coach and their clients. Life coaching approaches vary, just as spirituality can be expressed in a variety of ways.

What you need to know?

The three principles coach relationship with each client will differ, just as each client will require different skills to master. Integrating otherworldliness with the interaction loans to a fuller encounter for the people who are involved.

For instance, you become an individual who defines an objective and perhaps that objective is bigger than your mental self-view or that is what your character affirms You're somebody who must show up for every other person however you cannot put yourself first.

Learn from the best

This then compels you to make an objective that expects you to put yourself first where you currently need to behave destructively; furthermore, unknowingly there is a part of you dismissing the thought immovably saying probably not. The objective conflicts with who you are and this is what the three principles facilitator teaches you.

Your main goal is to get your life in order. The primary purpose that each of us has is to learn to love and get to know ourselves, as well as to connect with everything that we are.

As a first step toward altering your self-perception and retelling your story, here are some actions you can take right away to effect that change. It is all about embracing success and allowing it to stay in your body when you experience the full spectrum of success.

Click here for more information: https://threeprinciplesaustraliaa.tumblr.com/post/693559246824079360/3-principles-training-get-the-best-training-for

[french-unknown]

Hellooo, I was wondering if you would do zoro, sanji, and law react to seeing their future kids? Like the child go’s back in time somehow and they meet they’re daddy’s. Love your work and hope you have a lovely week!! (✨FLUFF✨)

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: zoro, sanji, law 𝐂/𝐖: ✨ fluff ✨ 𝐀/𝐍: Hellooo! I did my best so I hope you will like it! Have a lovely week too! (~^-^)~ 𝐖/𝐂: 600 +

| m a s t e r l i s t |

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

✧ He will first consider the child as a threat since, in the Straw Hat crew, a person of any age who appears on the boat when they are in the middle of nowhere is rarely a good thing.

✧ He will accept his affiliation with the child quite easily, no doubt that Luffy's carelessness has contaminated him, and their status as a child will mean that the crew will not be too suspicious of them.

✧ As soon as he will know that the child has never wielded real blade before, he will come into play.

✧ Whatever the kid's reason for not using a real sword, he doesn't care. He will simply lend him one of his own in order to have a training fight and assess his level. He will also show him two or three techniques along the way.

✧ However, he will be mortally embarrassed when Sanji, Nami or Robin come to tease him about his fatherhood.

✧ He would rather jump into the water himself than hear the child call Sanji and Nami as uncle andr aunt.

✧ Zoro will also give the child their first sips of alcohol. Obligatory ritual.

✧ He will not be particularly curious about the child's current life. He will stick to the principle that what has to happen will happen and that he doesn't really need to know. The kid looks happy so he won't look any further.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

✧ The system will definitely crash.

✧ He will not question the child's words even if they are not physically similar. The unknown child may appear one day in the middle of the kitchen while he is cooking, shouting "Daddy" while jumping into his arms and he will trust them anyway.

✧ He will not hesitate to shower them with affection

✧ He will ask them hundreds of questions about their life, their tastes and above all what their family life is like later. It will really be a sort of messy interrogation for the first hour.

✧ He will be extremely anxious about whether he is a good father.

✧ After the questions and answers, he will go around the ship to show his child to all the crew. He wll run around like "look, it's mine. It's my child!" It will only stop if the child starts to like other members (asking questions about Zoro's swords, playing with Luffy, laughing with Franky, etc.) for fear that they will prefer others to himself.

✧ He will spend the entire remainder of their time together cooking. He will be moved to tears to see that his child already has the basics.

✧ As soon as the child will leave in their time, Sanji will already be looking forward to seeing them again.

𝐋𝐀𝐖

✧ To say he will be suspicious of the child is an understatement.

✧ They may look identical, whether physically or psychologically, but they will still find themselves both sitting face-to-face on chairs with arms crossed and the same facial expressions, saying: "You're lying." and “I’m not lying.”

✧ It will take Law some rigorous questioning to know whether to believe them or not but he will simply leave the kid go because of their sarcastic responses.

✧ He will never truly believe it's his child but they are amusing him with their answers so he will stop bothering them.

✧ He will leave them in the hands of his crew members because he will not see why he should be involved with a random kid. He will bite his fingers when the members of said crew tell them lots of compromising information regarding Law.

✧ The child will use their information to blackmail the surgeon and stay with him.

✧ When the child leaves, Law will have a little pang in his heart of “that kid was funny”.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @lys-ada @xomingyu @dozcan123 @kai-wifey

[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

Types of Traditional Thai Dance in Man Suang

We see two styles of traditional Thai dance-drama (Lakhon Ram) in Man Suang: Lakhon Nok and Lakhon Nai.

Lakhon Nok

The film opens with Khem performing the role of Sang Thong in what looks like a local event for a lord.

And we also see him in the iconic golden outfit for his performance as Phra Lor.

Lakhon Nok is traditionally a folk style dance drama performed by commoners.

The theatre took place away from royal palaces and was often performed at temple fairs.

Originally, Lakhon Nok was an all male dance style but these days women perform it too.

The stories are fast paced and the movements are typically more relaxed and not as refined as those you would find in Lakhon Nai or Khon, the two dance styles most associated with royal performance.

Costumes can be very simple or more elaborate.

The stories are often based on Buddhist Jataka tales and folklore with fantastical creatures like ogres, mermaids and spirits in abundance.

Traditionally any kind of story could be told except The Ramakien, Inao and Unnarut, which were reserved for royal performances of Lakhon Nai or Khon.

Popular examples of Lakhon Nok include:

Sang Thong

Phra Lor/Law

Phra Aphai Mani

Lakhon Nai

Wichiendej asks to see Khem as Inao, the hero of the Lakhon Nai dance drama.

Lakhon Nai was originally performed exclusively for the royal court by an all female group.

We do overhear Mae Kru Phikul arguing about this in the background of one scene. Shortly after this time period men would be allowed to perform in Lakhon Nai as well but I imagine it was still quite a transgressive act in this tumultuous time frame.

Only the king and members of his court were allowed to watch but during this time period, Rama 3 turned against royal dance as an art form and ordered a stop to both Lakhon Nai and Khon performances. This is likely the reason that Mae Kru Phikul ends up at Man Suang.

Characteristics of Lakhon Nai include extremely refined dance movements, adhering to traditional Thai aesthetic principles.

This is why we see Khem going to such drastic measures in his training montage, because he would be required to dance to a much more technical higher standard than he would have had to do when performing Lakhon Nok plays.

Costumes are elaborate and exquisite as befits a royal court.

The plots of Lakhon Nai come from three stories:

The Ramakien (a Thai version of the Ramayana)

Inao (The prince of the Panji tales.)

Unnarut (stories of the son of Krishna.)

There are other types of Lakhon dance styles but these are the two that are showcased in Man Suang.

I was a little surprised we didn't see Khon, the famous masked dance drama style of Thailand but it was another dance form originally exclusive to royal courts so I can also understand why it didn't show up in the film.

[brucewaynehater101]

So I was reading "Kidnapping Tim's dignity" by Sophie_Vers and "Suffer in Vogue" by InkpotSprite, which btw, mind the tags and content warnings in the endnotes before reading because holy fuck!

And while they aren't the first to depict Tim being the exception to Jason's 'Protect Kids' schtick, it got me thinking of the principle of "if one of us isn't safe, none of us are safe"

So here's some loosely connected ideas exploring that. Bending canon ahead

Also I fused that Mafia!Tim idea with this because it's fire

Feel free, but not pressured, to add on however you want

==========

Titans Tower occurs before Stephanie becomes Robin. It, + other incidents, convince Bruce to bench Tim for the foreseeable future

Steph becomes the Fourth Robin and has the help of Tim for training, the batcomputer + more

Stephanie's dies during her run as Robin and is buried, Bruce at least has the decency to pay off the bills for the funeral eve if she wasn't legally adopted

How does she get revived? Let's say Tim is experimenting with Lazarus Water. If it can bring back Jason, it can bring back his friend

And since he succeeded at reviving Stephanie, if anybody else (like say, Kon & Bart) dies, he can just whip out the pit juice

Since Stephanie died under Batman's tutelage, she makes the decision to hide her revival from Batman, and Tim helps set her up with a new identity

At some point between Tim trying to revive Stephanie and helping her get a new ID, Duke joins the fray. Idk how but they meet & he gets in the know about Steph's revival

Then his parents being Joker Gassed happens, and Bruce—thanks to a little red robin whispering in his ear—takes him in as his ward/foster/adopted kid

Fuck it, let's add in Cassandra as well, girl speedruns hopping into Gotham like another League runaway she's heard of and comes under Batman's wing in no time

And you don't hide shit from her so Cass and Duke are in on Stephanie's resurrection and are trusted Secret Keepers

==========

Despite all that's happened, Stephanie isn't going to let go of being a vigilante, but she doesn't want Batman looming over her either

Plus the others are up for some teenage rebellion so they copy after their Big Brother Jason and become crime lords

Introducing the gang; The Undying Carrion

(named them after Carrion Crow, which is very intelligent and a scavenger)

Works like Tim Gang in the Gang AU but with Tim, Steph, Cass and Duke as shared leaders

They need leader names, fuck

Lemme think . . .

Introducing, the Carrion Crows!

Stephanie / Carrion Violence

Tim / Carrion Thread

Duke / Carrion Light

Cassandra / Carrion Promise

Explanation Times!!

// (Violence - nce) + t = violet, which is purple!!

Hence why Stephanie calls herself violence! Okay that's a Canon Event but there's also other meanings to the name

Stephanie didn't just die, she was killed or murdered, an act of violence

Stephanie is on the field more than the rest of the Carrion, and knows how to rock your shit, she's well trained in—and expecting—violence

She's motivated partially by Jason's violence against Tim

Why call themselves Carrions? Stephanie started this all after being returned from death

// Tim became Robin because what little faith in Batman remained was a thin, fragile thread, and while he restored Gotham's into a tightknit spider web, his own faith degenerated into a thread that snapped with Stephanie's death

Likewise, his adoration for Jason, the Second Robin, is hanging by a thread, especially as the other three voice their disdain for Jason's more recent action in Titans Tower

Plus the logic Jason has for hating Tim, Batman has for abusing Tim, and he has for loving those two still, barely has a thread of logic to them

Like spider webs, he's able to take mere threads and weave them into inescapable traps, make unseen firewalls and find the thinnest threads of knowledge on the internet

He makes a secure spiderweb of safety nets and contingencies for the gang for countless possible situations

// Behind Stephanie, Duke is the most well-known of the Carrion Crows, he's like a lighthouse of directions for the gang

He is also able to lead mass swaths of people at once, while Stephanie is better with smaller groups, or doing it one-to-one

Because he leads a larger statistic of people at once, foes tend to be lured to him like moths to a flame, thinking if they take him down, the whole operation comes toppling

Even if they do put Duke out of action, they're in for a rude awakening when the rest of the Carrion Crows come to the rescue

He and Steph know how to put all eyes on themselves so that Tim and Cass's activities go unnoticed

Why think of mysteries with too little clues to wonder about, when you can look at this spectacle of a spotlight and galore of violence?

His name is also a nod to the fact that despite all the trauma he's went through, he has more childhood innocence compared to the rest of the four; more light in his eyes so to speak

// Cassandra, the renegade, the renegade . . .

She made a promise to herself even before she met The Bat; She will not kill, for it is wrong, all have the right to live, and none the right to revoke it

She does not kill for all deserve a sufficient judgement; all victims the ability to gain closure how they see fit (this sets up possible future arguments between Jason and her)

Where as the other Carrion may take the liberty to transform 'No Killing' into a fate worse than death?

She is the only one who's made this promise, and thus the only one you can trust to not make you beg for death due to it transforming into mercy

And if you make a promise to the Carrion? You better go through with it, because she'll know when you've broken it

==========

The gang starts off as basically welfare.

Here's free lessons of essential life skills, here's free nursing and doctor training, here's free education and shelter— legality? Who cares?

Eventually, however, they meet bottlenecks of lacking legal options as illegal gangs do

So Tim starts looking into ways to circumvent this. lo and behold, the Drake Industries he is set in inherit

Tim starts catching up on everything he'll need to know to be CEO as a fricking teenager and starts discussing the possibility of even doing so under eighteen

For plot convenience, Jack and Janet are ecstatic that he appears to be so passionate about this and help him speedrun inheritance

Badabing badaboom, with Tim weaving in the Undying Carrion and Drake Industries together, business is booming on both sides as they feed into eachothers growth and profits

The Drake's, in the dark, are wiping tears above their smiles. They're so proud of their boy!

Tim unfortunately has to play Loving Son™ more than ever, but hey, worth it

Fuck it, it's helping Gotham, so Tim even enlists Kon, Cassie and Bart as honorary and substitute leaders in case of emergencies, gets them up to speed

(hey maybe even have Bart info dump about the Undying Carrion when introduced to it be it due to history lessons or it's place in the future)

Idk what their Carrion Titles would be lol

Also how will they utilize their powers without giving themselves away? 🤔🤔🤔

==========

Oh yeah, what do they all do as the heads of their gang?

Well, they're very remote and hands off in practice due to civilian and bat-vigilante lives, so unless they can find the time;

Tim is the tech genius, encrypting and hacking like no tomorrow. Plus his ability to gather information is like no other

He can even double as an info broker when nessecery

He does most of the bureaucracy when it comes to working Drake Industries and Undying Carcasses both at once, but others help him shoulder the burden

Cassandra specializes in getting a read on people with her knowledge in body language

She can tell who works best where, who to trust, who to play, who to investigate, etc.

Duke does most of leadership possible remotely. He also utilizes his meta powers without outing himself as Signal

Stephanie—with an undone death—is able to act as a physically present leader for the gang, and is the one on the field if nessecery

In a nutshell, Tim does tech + organization and DI & UC, Cass passes judgements, Duke does remote leadership, and Stephanie does fieldwork and physical leadership

As the four leaders, they have meetings and discuss how to proceed with their gang

==========

So yeah, Batman + non-criminal allies and Red Hood are sniffing around the Undying Carrion because, hello? New gang? Who dis?

Especially if one of them catches a look at Stephanie's eyes as Violence and sees them flash Lazarus Green, giving the name 'Undying Carrion' a whole 'nother meaning

That also boosts their motivation to uncover what the fucking is going on here

==========

Anyways Jason slander because I'm a Hater™

Stephanie proposed becoming a crime lord since she didn't want to work under Batman, still wanted to help people, and crime is still a big fucking problem so "if you can't beat 'em, join em"

However, she is also aware of the mess that is Batman and Jason's relationship after the latter revived, plus Jason beating Tim up to high hell, and fills in Cass and Duke about this

And having never met Jason nor caring about his Robin days nearly as much as Tim Drake, she has a very low opinion of the Second Robin

Especially with Jason's audacity to claim he protects kids whilst doing the Titans Tower

And whatever the hell he was pulling didn't stop her from biting the dust

So yeah, she's a hater and she makes it KNOWN

She's super vocal about her criticism towards Batman and Red Hood

"Batman's second Robin died due to circumstances out of his control, so I won't grill him for that, but to allow Red Hood to break into Titans Tower and beat the Third Robin to near death and later allow the Fourth to die is something else entirely!"

"Speaking of Red Hood, what happened to 'protecting the children'? look at you! You beat Robin—a teenager—into the dirt for daring to care about his community! for feeling obligated for throwing away his childhood so he could play Therapist for Batman!"

"Shouldn't you be throwing hands with Batman instead? The Third Robin threw away so much for him and the Fourth Robin gave her own life!"

"Or is the problem that they do care for their communities, and have the power to fight for them and defend ourselves?"

"Was the Third Robin not only exempted from your rules, but actively targeted by you because he could defend himself? Do only protect children when they can't fight back? When they're utterly helpless? In Gotham?"

"Forget being an exception, why did you see fit to grant the idea that children should be protected from harm an exception? Are the kids in Crime Alley safe from you at all?"

"Argue all you want for yourself, but the fact remains that you've displayed not the power, but the willingness to torture those you claim to protect, and we won't stand for it, I least of all."

"If one of us isn't safe, none of us are safe."

Maybe Stephanie's slip for the tongue "one of us" can clue Red Hold in on Carrion Violence being a teenager, whoopsie daisies

But yeah, arguments for those under Red Hood or The Undying Carrion abound

Lord help you of you're under Red Hood, and The Undying Carrion

I'm thinking about the Twitter Wars . . .

==========

Hey maybe she even whispers the idea that Red Hood is infact a copycat of The Joker and is just playing the long con, building a reputation and trust so he can burn it all away and watch the improving community collapse and despair

It'd explain why he brutalized the Third Robin like how The Joker did the Second Robin but has yet to do the same with Batman and is obsessed like the Joker is, she's just saying . . . 👀👀👀👀

Not as Carrion Violence of course, that'd be the biggest target in her back yet!

It's small suggestions here and there only Tim would be able to trace back to her

I'm just saying, with the Carrion Crows being Waynes (not matter how unofficial) and Tim running Drake Industries they're experience with PR could be weaponized *handrub*

Jason has to throw in his own rustic abilities but it's gonna be tough, woof

==========

Is Cluemaster still isn't jailed yet, he's done for with the Carrion Crows on his ass

==========

The four are also gonna beat Jay's ass into the dirt when they find out he knew about Damian since he was under Talia's care and never brought him up

Or maybe not, Red Hood isn't on good terms with Batfam or Carrion, and if he did go single father he'd have assassin's on his undertrained ass

But also

That kid's in a fucking cult for fucks sake what the hell man?

==========

Oh yeah, the Batclan side of things.

Given the disastrous trend of Robins biting the dust or being brutalized by previous ones, Robin is benched indefinitely, especially with Tim admitting that he's going to focus more on his civilian life

Particularly getting that CEO status in Drake Industries and playing the Prodigy Image for PR

Also the Carrion stuff but Batman doesn't know that

Bruce sort of has his hands full simultaneously training daylight hero Signal and recent partner Batgirl

as do they but he doesn't need to know why

Batman is sweating bullets after learning about the rapidly growing Undying Carrion and realizing they have to investigate this. Especially if he knows about Carrion Violence's Lazarus eyes

Cassandra and Duke meanwhile are sweating because they have to investigate themselves without getting caught

Just because Tim is benched doesn't mean he's wholly out of the game

He does lots of duty on the batcomputer as he did during Stephanie's Robin time

Plus, since he's gone Computer Man, he spends more time with Barbara and learning technology with her

Which is later exploited by Carrion Thread

So yeah, with the Batfamily infested with three moles, It's gonna be rough not raising suspicion but slightly easier with each other to trust

Plus they can do some espionage for the Carrion side of things

==========

Suffice to say that the Carrion Crows and maybe even Young Justice become much closer thanks to this, so if something real bad happens like Tim's Sixteenth birthday, he'll trust them to have his back and to give a shoulder to cry on

And to think this started off as Jason Todd hate . . . And also Batman hating . . .

Oh yeah, I never established wtf Stephanie"s fake ID was, just that Tim helped her get one, should probably toss that in as well

Tim doing experiments until he can, in cases of emergency, revive his family with Pit water makes sense.

I do love that this AU focuses on Steph, Duke, and Cass because they can be overlooked by fandom and canon (I'm glad Tim is a focus as well, but he's not nearly as overlooked as the other three).

I'm always down for Bruce bashing, and I like the idea that they are slowly driving him nuts. He has no clue why this new gang is always ahead of him, and he just wants to figure it out. Fuck him, though.

The role for Steph in this is great. I think that Bruce is too limiting for her character. She should be able to make her own decisions with support, not dictations of lines. She's too used to making her own decisions for some random ass man to tell her what she can and can't do. It doesn't matter that Bruce is Batman and a billionaire. Steph deserves the respect to be a leading decision maker of her own life.

In this AU, she's able to shine as the brilliant, fierce, and strong person she is while being able to lean on Duke, Cass, and Tim.

Duke and Cass have it rough with two separate vigilante (ish) personas, but you did mention they kind if work not as frequently as Steph is able to.

As far as Jason, there's very few fics that address how his attack on Tim would affect his reputation in Crime Alley. That, more than anything, would devastate the man. The kids of Crime Alley, whose trust is hard earned, losing faith in him. I don't remember which fics address this, but even fewer actually have Crime Alley find out about Red Hood attacking Robin. That whole situation is tricky to navigate as a fan of both Tim and Jason.

Anyways, I love the amount of detail you put into this AU. What part of Gotham would they control? Would they be fighting with Red Hood for Crime Alley, or would they set up territory in another section? Or do they not have territory?

I'd be down to hear more about this AU. Stuff like what their outfits are like, what missions they tackle, how the public treats them, etc.

[rea-grimm]

Vampire Mihawk

In fact, you didn't think you'd ever get into the fencing club, and you were even more surprised when Mihawk himself was supposed to teach you. It was said that he chose his students carefully and taught no more than three students at a time. 

Now there wasn't much more of you. Under Mihawk, you and Zoro were taught. No one else. No one else the swordsman deemed suitable. And he was so strict that not everyone could handle his training and left. That's why he was so picky. He didn't want to waste his energy on someone who didn't deserve it. 

In fact, you thought it was a recommendation from Zorro and Perona, who got along with Mihawk, and you thought they were family. 

Plus, Mihawk taught history at school, but that wasn't one of your subjects. Besides, he had to fight the rest of the students from the fencing club once a month.

They were taught by another professor, but Mihawk ran the whole club. After the fight, however, he evaluated their progress, which he mostly saw as minimal. 

During the fencing classes, Mihawk taught you certain moves and techniques on how to properly hold a sword and such. Then you fought each other, which was you against Zoro. 

And as the final of each class, you fought against Mihawk. Every hour that you had that you fought him, you walked away with some sort of scratch.

You wondered if there was ever a day when you didn't leave without a scratch. Okay, sometimes you got scratched by your own clumsiness, sometimes it was from Zoro, but most of those times it was from Mihawk. 

Whether it was your arm, your thigh, once he even scratched your cheek. That was the exception, and he also apologized profusely. Besides, he always made sure the scratch was properly treated and sealed. He even discovered scratches you never noticed. 

Most of the time, you just chalked it up to your own ineptitude and didn't address it. What possible reason could he have for inflicting such injuries on you? You just waved it away. 

But there was a rumor going around at school. Well, where wasn't there a rumor? This one was about Mihawk. Students were gossiping amongst themselves that he was a vampire.

Sure, some would say he dressed like he was from another century, but you didn't believe in that stuff. You thought those things belonged in fairy tales and legends. 

It couldn't be closer to the truth. Mihawk was indeed a vampire, and he wasn't the only one at this school. The other vampires were Persona and Zoro, your best friends at school. There was a lot more to this school, but that wasn't the point. 

Truth be told, Mihawk didn't want you in the club to begin with. It wasn't until you fought Zoro hard and got scratched that he changed his mind. 

He felt like your blood was calling to him. He'd never smelled blood as enticing as yours. Plus, you were a good student, and he saw progress in you. But that was beside the point. 

For a man of principle, Mihawk never let the smell of blood catch him off guard and always left his food at home. The bloodlust never got the better of him. But that was slowly ceasing to work. 

As much as Mihawk tried not to scratch you, he had a growing desire to smell your blood. He couldn't imagine a lesson with you where he couldn't smell it. 

You hadn't noticed it yourself, but the number of times he cut you or smelled your blood made his eyes red. Who hadn't missed it was Zoro and Perona, who came to watch the training from time to time. 

Moreover, Mihawk had become much more thirsty after training and you could see him fighting his bloodlust more and more. 

Zoro and Perona warned him to be careful not to let his thirst get the better of him. Mihawk dismissed their words at first but gradually began to take notice himself. 

Mihawk's desire for your blood was growing stronger and stronger. He felt that even the blood he normally drank was losing its taste. 

Every time you passed him in the hallway, he had to work to control himself. He'd rather drag you into an empty classroom and feast on your blood... 

No. He shook his head and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and concentrated. He wasn't the world's best swordsman for letting his instincts take over. 

Little did he know how much worse your lessons together would be. Even though he knew the temptation your blood presented and how difficult it was to control himself, his body was already automatically using his sword to create scratches on your flesh. 

He had the impression that he had overdone it for the last lesson, where usually you left with one or two scratches tops, today you couldn't even count them. Mihawk apologized to you before he said a hurried goodbye. 

He overdid it there, he could feel his mouth growing fangs and saliva pooling just from the smell of you. As soon as the door closed behind you, Mihawk rushed to the fridge where he had a pack of blood stashed for emergencies. 

He never drank a packet as fast as he did just then. And even though the package was empty, he was still thirsty. He didn't want to hurt you, but at the same time, he couldn't cancel your lessons. 

You went to fencing class as usual. But when you saw your teacher walk in, you were worried about whether the class would even go ahead. Mihawk was as white as death itself and more than ever resembled an ancient statue than a human. 

You were worried about him, and even though you knew how strong he was with the sword, you didn't want him to get overwhelmed.

"Are you all right sir? " you asked him with concern. Mihawk, however, just waved it off as nothing. He hoped that by fighting he would come to other thoughts. 

The beginning of class was going well. You practiced new moves and then it was your turn to fight Mihawk. Normally you'd still be training with Zoro, but he was supposedly sleeping after a night excursion. 

The beginning of the fight was uneventful. You were able to dodge sword strikes while being able to take advantage of several openings. But even though he seemed unwell, he still fought well. 

However, when the first blood flowed, Mihawk paused before calling off the lesson. Without another word, he strapped Yoru back onto his back and made his way to the door. 

"Are you alright sir?" You walked up behind him, about to take his hand. 

"Go away," he growled at you, clenching his hands into fists. It was the first time you'd seen him like this. Your primal instinct told you to walk away and leave him alone. Instead, you grabbed his sleeve with your injured hand. 

At that moment, Mihawk lunged at you with such speed, blood-red eyes, and an expression reminiscent of a wild animal. He pinned you against the nearest wall before grabbing your injured arm and licking a streak of oozing blood from it. 

You heard someone else run into the room. Zoro was right there, trying to pull Mihawk off of you. But before he could do so, Mihawk bit into your arm. When Zoro tried to touch him, Mihawk snarled at him like a wild animal. 

The initial bite was a shock, but you gradually stopped feeling it. You felt like you were the first to lose feeling in your hand and gradually it felt like your whole body was getting heavy. It was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open. And as he continued to suck your blood, your eyes finally darkened and you passed out. 

Mihawk could feel you stop struggling, but he still couldn't pull away. Your blood was like a drug he couldn't give up. But eventually, with great effort, he pulled away. 

He took a deep breath and licked the wound on your hand where his teeth were now imprinted. He bit his finger weakly and smeared his blood over the wound. The wound began to heal immediately, and eventually, only pale skin remained. 

Mihawk felt himself regaining his senses. He gently stroked your cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear before taking you in his arms like a princess or bride and carrying you to the infirmary. 

The school was empty by this time, so he wasn't worried about you being drained. He laid you on the bed and instructed Zora and Perona to stay with you and watch over you. He left on his own, saying he needed to go get something. 

Mihawk returned a short time later, holding a tray with a plate of food and drink on it. He set that on the nightstand and sent the two vampires away. He wanted to be there alone with you when you woke up. 

He knew he had taken too much, but he could still feel the life in you and knew you were stronger than you looked. 

After a while, you finally woke up. You felt like you were completely devoid of energy. You'd most like to roll over onto your other side and keep sleeping when you realise what has happened. 

You sat up abruptly until you felt dizzy and had to lean on your hands. At that moment, you felt someone's arms supporting you. 

"Carefully," you heard a familiar voice. You turned your head and your eyes fell on your teacher who was supporting you and who had attacked you earlier. You weren't sure how to approach this. 

You had mixed feelings about it, as you were sure he wouldn't just attack you for no reason. But at the same time, there was a sort of survival instinct that told you to stay away from him. 

"I want to apologize for biting you. But the smell of your blood was stronger than me. It's all the worse because you're my student. What I did is unforgivable, and I'm prepared to suffer the consequences. I have also prepared food for you here to give you strength," he said sincerely while looking into your eyes. 

Now you could see that he was no longer as pale as before and had more of a normal colour. He also looked much calmer. 

You forgave him, as the bite surprisingly didn't hurt and you had a small crush on him. He apologized and made you a meal. Plus, you got the impression he wasn't talking to you like a teacher who made a mistake, but like himself. 

You forgave him and promised that his secret was safe for you too. You could see the stone fall from his heart and how relieved he was. 

Mihawk took your hand gently and lifted it to his lips before kissing you on the hand. 

"These words of yours mean a great deal to me," he said, looking into your eyes. "But I'm afraid your blood is calling to me more and more, and I'm finding it harder to keep my distance. I hope you'll allow this old bat to court you," he said in a voice where you ran out of words and just nodded in agreement with a blush on your cheeks.

Mihawk Masterlist

[sugar-grigri]

Noticed that in Part 2 there's notable chapters named after sounds... and the Ear Devil is the important one in these recent chapters. It's like shutting out the world by erasing them and everyone else trying to say "no, you have to listen and be present with us"

I think that if we interpret everything a little more meta, the disappearance of the ears and hearing, or the perception of noise, is a pretty clear warning to the reader, it's even quite mocking. 

You can see that people forget the principle of a telephone without questioning the potential usefulness of the object they had in their hands. Moving on from the meta, it's a vital piece of information about Chainsaw Man's power. It's a cascading oversight. If you forget the Second World War, then you'll forget the Nazis, and maybe even fascism in general. 

But above all, I think there are huge concepts in Chainsaw Man that we don't question, or even forget. It's not our general understanding of the work that's being criticised, it's the fact that, once again, we're not paying attention to the whole of a chapter that's being presented to us. The noise, the background, the muted reactions, the breakdown, the title, these are all pieces of information, and it's they that inform us, so it's our senses as readers. The more Fujimoto seems to support something, the more you have to question him. It's not insignificant that this criticism is made through Pochita, who is also Fujimoto's mascot.

Pochita could eat ears and we'd end up not questioning them, just like all those people, we're no better. It's the same thing with Fujimoto, he does a lot of things in the background, in innuendo, but we don't perceive anything. 

I think the chapter where there's an awful lot going on in the background without paying attention in part 2 is, for example, chapter 156. Did you pay attention to any of that ?

But......?

More ? Have you been trying to help Denji again ? And Denji didn't break the rules, the deal had been broken by Barem who went after his family.

No, you didn't, Denji fainted on his own, you didn't give him that injection, or at least it didn't make him fall asleep. It's probably the other way round.

How could Denji and Pochita have felt his legs being cut off? Because they could hear. And how could they hear ? That was the main question we had to ask ourselves, given the title of the chapter.

Yet people concluded that Yoshida was still a piece of shit, a dog subservient to the public hunters. So a mole does exist, given the leak of information about the PS plans. And how did Asa and Fami find out about Denji's ultra-secret position?

You can see the phone. But you don't question its purpose. What's the phone for? And what is the point of all these contradictions?

Understand the implications of everything and don't forget anything, Chainsaw Man is a constant surprise. We've missed something. Part 2 is nothing more than Fujimoto discussing his work with his fans. Denji's existential crises? Artistic crises about the essence of the work, which is Chainsaw Man. Hear the noise all the way through.

This last panel comes from chapter 133, which is really the chapter that questions the work the most, featuring Yoshida and Denji in particular. Why am I throwing this chapter away? Because chapter 173 told me to ?......

Did you see the number three?

All these chapters deal with Denji's dream.

"Be present with us". Pay attention to everything so you don't miss the train.