#also how would he even get there he hates all modes of transportation except walking. he cannot walk to the coast hjdijh

[dailyeca]

drew eca on the beach yesterday and i shit you not a ladybug crawled into frame, DO YOU SEE IT. DO YOU SEE IT THERE AT 0:25??

THIS WAS NOT PLANNED, I DIDNT EVEN KNOW THERE WERE LADYBUGS ON THE BEACH. OH MY GOD. truly a magical moment. ladybugs fcking love him!!

[munsonsmixtapes]

Don’t Want You Like a Best Friend

tasm!peter x bestie!fem!reader

word count: 2k

The library was practically empty except for a few other students sprinkled throughout the building. You liked it when it was this way. There was no one to bother you and you didn’t have to share your table so you could spread your books across it as you pleased.

You had been there practically all day, working on homework and studying for the many tests you had throughout the week. You were getting tired, and maybe you should have taken a break, but you really needed to get your work done.

Maybe you were too hard on yourself where education was concerned. But you were on a scholarship and had to maintain certain grades to remain a student. But you were smart so nobody understood why you worked as hard as you did. You could have gotten straight As in your sleep.

“Unbelievable.” You looked up from your textbook to find your best friend Peter standing at the end of your table. He was dressed in an unbuttoned burnt orange flannel with a gray t-shirt under it with a pair of black jeans. He was wearing his glasses for once, which you always liked on him. You thought they looked cute. He was also holding his skateboard which was typically his mode of transportation to get across campus. He was shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But he could. It seemed like you were always there, at that exact table with your nose in a textbook. He would have been convinced that you lived there if he hadn't hung out at your dorm from time to time. He knew that studying was important, but at the rate you were doing it, he knew you weren’t getting much sleep.

“What?” You turned back to your book, continuing to read as if Peter wasn’t even there. Peter took the seat next to you and set his skateboard in his lap. He turned to you and licked his lips before he spoke.

“I walked here with you this morning and it’s now,” he looked at the watch on his wrist. “Almost five.”

“I know what time it is, Peter,” you shook your head, scribbling some more words down in your notebook. You actually had no idea what time it was, but you hated to admit when he was right.

“I brought you dinner,” he reached into his backpack and pulled out a sandwich from your favorite deli that was down the road. He set it on the table and you looked at it, feeling your mouth water. You hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

“You didn’t have to do that, Pete.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But I wanted to. Now eat up. We’ve got plans.” Peter almost always had something planned for the both of you to do when you didn’t have class. He thought that college was all about making the most of your freedom and not being holed up in your room watch Doctor Who for the billionth time like you always wanted to do.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You took the sandwich and removed the wrapping to see that it was made just how you liked it with all of your favorite toppings. Sometimes you thought Peter knew you too well.

“Y/n, you’ve been here all day. It’s time to close the books.” He took one of them and shut it before putting it into your backpack.

“Peter,” you whined, reaching for the book he had grabbed from the table. He just held it out of your reach with a laugh. He dropped it into your backpack and did the same thing with the others until the table was empty. He zipped up the bag and put it on his back before grabbing his skateboard.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta move,” he held his hand out to you and dragged you to the entrance of the library while you finished up your sandwich.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you and Peter became friends; you were always just attached at the hip. You had been that way your entire lives which made it hard when you realized that you had romantic feelings for him. How could you not have? He was sweet and caring and not to mention easy on the eyes. He was the complete and total package but you couldn’t have him. You couldn’t risk losing the most important relationship in your life

Unbeknownst to you, Peter felt the exact same way. He loved you. He loved you so much that it made his heart ache. He realized it the moment you shared your first kiss. Sure, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything since you were just trying to get it out of the way since neither of you had done it before. But it had meant something to Peter. The moment his lips touched yours, he knew that you were the only person he’d ever want to kiss for as long as he lived.

Despite your unknown love for each other, nothing about your friendship changed. Maybe now you held hands but that was only because of the busy New York streets. You had just been thinking about your safety. You totally hadn’t been thinking about his warm, rough hand in yours as he stroked yours with the pad of his thumb while you walked.

Peter pulled you to the ice cream shop you both always frequented and opened the door for you. You stepped up to the counter and ordered your usual while Peter stood next to you, waiting his turn. He watched you pick out the toppings for your frozen treat and knew exactly what you were going to get. You were always so predictable, but then again, so was he.

He loved watching you do little things like that. He loved hearing the sweet voice you used to speak to service workers and watching you thank them once the transaction was over. You were always so polite and that was one of the things he

Once you both had your ice cream, Peter led you down the street to the park you always hung out in. It was a nice day and he couldn’t believe that you had spent the majority of it in the library studying. Well, maybe he could. He was always worrying about you working too hard. College was supposed to be about having fun and making new memories and he was concerned you weren’t doing enough of that.

The park was pretty crowded because of the nice weather but that didn’t stop you and Peter from going to your favorite spot. There was a fountain directly in the center of the park that the two of you always made a wish at. Your wishes were always the same but neither of you wanted to admit what they were under the excuse that the wishes wouldn’t come true if you told each other. You wished for something more with Peter just as he wished for something more with you.

With your ice creams polished off, Peter took hold of your hand again once you entered the park. He just wanted to feel your soft skin against his as a reminder that you were right next to him. He didn’t want to lose you. Literally. You were always known to get distracted and run off before he even realized you were gone, so holding your hand was the only way to make sure you stayed right by his side.

You both made a beeline for the fountain and Peter was quick to set his skateboard and your backpack down once you got there. He then fished two pennies out of his pocket before handing one to you. You closed your eyes tight as you made your wish and Peter decided that he could not have been more in love with you at that moment. He admired how much effort you put into everything, even your wishes that you both knew would never come true.

He watched the way your face scrunched up as you closed your eyes tighter and felt his heart swell. He just loved you so much that it hurt sometimes. There was so much love in his chest and he wasn’t able to express it in the ways he wanted to. He wanted to tell you he loved you, and not in the best friend way that was always assumed when he said the words. He wanted to hold you in his arms and kiss you whenever he wanted, to finally taste the cherry lip balm you always seemed to be applying.

You both threw your pennies into the fountain and Peter decided that he was finally going to do something about how he felt. Maybe. His heart pounded so hard in his chest that he felt like he needed to sit down. He took a seat on the fountain ledge and you sat right next to him, your knees touching. You leaned your head against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

“Thanks, Pete,” you mumbled, burying your face further into his neck.

“Anytime, bug.” His hand grabbed hold of your arms and he rubbed it comfortingly, the action calming him down.

You pulled back to look at him and realized how close your faces were to one another. At the close proximity, you were immediately transported back to the time you had your first and last kiss. You were both thirteen and had been subjected to a game of spin the bottle at your first girl/boy party. It was Peter’s turn and everyone knew that he liked you; everyone but you, of course. And they had all been hoping that the bottle had landed on you and by some stroke of luck, it did.

Peter slowly crawled toward you and your nerves were at an all-time high. You had never kissed anyone, especially not your best friend. And now you were going to do it in front of practically everyone in your grade. You were terrified, but your curiosity outweighed the scared feeling.

Everyone was chanting and rooting for the boy and that only made him feel more nervous. He had wanted to kiss you so badly, but not there, not under peer pressure. He wanted to do it when he felt the time was right, but he didn’t want anyone to make fun of him for not going for it. He slowly reached up and rested his hand on your cheek then pulled you in for the shortest, gentlest peck before pulling away. Both of you had pink tinted cheeks and it took everything in the both of you not to leave right then and there. Everyone in the circle cheered as he pulled away which only made the whole thing more embarrassing.

Neither of you had spoken about it after it had happened, but it was still something you thought about often. You had wanted to kiss him for real, but couldn’t get yourself to make a move. You just wanted to know what his lips actually felt like slotted between yours.

You noticed Peter leaning closer and you felt yourself start to panic. It was too soon. Despite waiting twelve years for him to actually kiss and how that he finally was, you weren’t sure how to feel. It was almost as if you were afraid to want it.

You had to get away. And fast. You couldn’t actually go through with it. If you did, you just knew that you’d want more and you wouldn’t get it. He was just caught up in that moment, that was all.

Yet, you found yourself leaning forward. He rested his hand on your cheek and looked at you, gauging your reaction. You gave him a nod and he slowly pulled your face to his, slotting his lips between yours. You rested your hands on his chest and his other hand grabbed onto your waist, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, just like him. And it was everything that you wanted it to be. Better than any other kiss you had received from anyone else. Maybe it had been because you hadn’t been kissed in a while, but you were pretty sure it was Peter.

He pulled away before you were ready and pressed his forehead to yours, a wide grin spreading across his face. You couldn’t help but mimic his facial expression, a giggle escaping your lips. He let out his own laugh, the giggle sounding so pretty and melodic.

“I love you,” he said, trying to catch his breath despite your kiss not having lasted very long. Your eyes widened at his words. It couldn’t be true, could it? That he felt the same way? You had to be dreaming. In just a few seconds, you’d wake up in your bed.

“I love you too,” you replied before you could stop yourself and Peter’s grin only widened before he went for another kiss, this one a bit more rough, like he couldn’t take one more second of not having his lips on yours.

He pulled away but only so he could pull you into his lap, his hands going to your waist while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pressed your chest to his and captured his top lip between your two. He smiled against your lips, making it difficult for you to proceed but it was hard not to smile as well. He laughed into your mouth and that only made you want to laugh as well.

“God, I love you,” you told him and you could see his cheeks turn pink at your words.

“And I love you too. So much.” Your heart swelled at his words. He actually reciprocated your feelings, loving you just as much as you loved him. So your wish had actually come true after years of making the same one. It took too long for your liking, but you were grateful that it had happened at all.

“Go out with me?” The question sounded so desperate and needy that you couldn’t help but want to say yes. All of your childhood dreams were finally coming true. You were going to go on a date with Peter Parker, your best friend.

“I’d want nothing more.” You were surprised at how effortless it was to talk about your feelings for each other. With other people, it was always weird and awkward, but with Peter, it was like talking about something as simple as the weather. Everything was always so simple with him.

“So I can call you my boyfriend?” He only smiled at that, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He wanted to be your boyfriend so badly. And maybe if he played his card right, you’d eventually call him your husband.

“As long as you’re my girlfriend,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss, this one longer than the others, so gentle. Like he was convinced he was going to break you if he applied any more pressure.

“So that means I’m yours?” He couldn’t believe that you were even asking. Of course your were his. You had been his since the two of you were eight years old.

“You always were, honey,” he said diving back in for one of many more kisses that you’d share together.

[astarab1aze]

do any of your muses have favourite modes of transportation? or modes of transportations they particularly dislike? which ones can drive a car? or ride a motorbike?

so, nightfolk can't really travel the same ways humans do. electronics and nightfolk simply don't mix (unless the nightfolk in question is a lightning-user like kaede, or possesses a magical affinity that ), and this includes electric vehicles of any kind be they cars with powersteering components or bullet trains. it interferes with their magic, not in casting but in effect - electricity is a dampener for nearly all forms of magic (it's why the only thing vayn can work is a microwave, and even that's hit or miss at best). but below, i'll list what each of their favorites and least favorites are, in this circumstance.

asuka; their own two feet, public transport, carriage, car, horse, motorcycle, broomflight for the aesthetic, mirror travel - any magical mode of travel would be their favorite; they want so badly to be able to perform magic... i don't think they dislike any form of travel except boat travel.

crovita; flight, and teleportation; she's a simple lady and likes to get places quickly, since she's always working. she does not like mirror travel, despite having a few of her own both on her person and at home - it makes her queezy.

furie; he also prefers flight, actually exclusively except in short distances. he hates mirror travel, he always throws up after (which is fairly common for naturally flight-capable nightfolk).

hydre; like vita, he prefers teleportation and flight, but this is generally for vast distances; if he can, he'll walk, maybe occasionally fiddle with mirrors or boats, but he likes to swim too, so he might if he comes across a river or whathaveyou in his travels.

kaede; mirror travel and his own two feet; simple guy, just wants to get from point a to point b in as little time as possible so he can fuck off and do whatever he wants with the rest of his time, or walk, to piss off as many people at once (the rebel in him is still there, after all).

loux; his favorite ways to travel are really all of them; travel is travel and everything feels a little bit like a road trip to him. carriage rides? now he gets to act all hoity-toity like some rich asshole; broomflight? now he gets to cackle like a witch. etc. mirror travel's the fastest and easiest, so he tends to use that primarily.

sortia; mirror travel and teleportation; the mirror is great when she's in a pinch since it's immediate, but teleportation is a greater show of power and we all know how she likes to flex on her 'lessers'.

vayn; mirror travel, walking, or flight as a bat; simple guy, tries not to be too flashy lest he attract unnecessary attention to himself.

viresca; broomflight and walking, plain and simple. no special reason, but perhaps for the simplicity of either; mirror travel makes her nauseous, other modes she doesn't mind but would rather not.

[miekasa]

okay but what about airport!levi? he gives quiet businessman vibes sitting in his slacks and turtleneck

IN HIS TURTLENECK 😭😭 He would also be quiet and to himself, but not in the emo way. You got me thinking about all of them now, so here are my other thoughts about the boys at the airport.

Levi

He thinks the idea of separating classes on an airplane is beyond stupid, but if the flight is particularly long, or particularly packed, he’s not above paying for business class for a little extra personal space for the two of you.

When he doesn’t do that, tho, he never picks your guys’ seats ahead of time, so sometimes you’ll be separated. Good thing he’s also not above lying at the check-in desk, “I’m in Zone 1, could my wife be seated next to me so that we can board together?”

They respond with an “of course,” and move your seats together, and Levi walks back with a content nod of appreciation. You are not married, and marriage sucks about as much as class separation on a 30 foot long plane, but it has its benefits.

Masks on, regardless. No debates. Pandemic or not, the mask stays on. Do not perceive him, keep the pressurized air sharing to a minimum.

Doesn’t wander much in the airport. There’s nothing in there that he hasn’t seen already, except for the marked up prices on touristy t-shirts.

And if you wander, he’ll usually just sit in the waiting area to watch your bags while you window shop and do your thing. If you’re gone for more than 30 mins, he might call, under the pretenses of, “Making sure you didn’t get lost. You know that Starbucks was near gate 41 to the left, not the right, right?” Like he’s a comedian or something 🙄

He does encourage you to get snacks before you board, tho. Airplane food is gross, and he would much rather pay for a $13 sandwich that you can snack on later, than for you to have to eat mush.

He’s got a little portable mug he takes with him for when he’s wants to buy a hot drink before getting on his flight. It’s cute.

Doesn’t fall asleep on the plane ever. No matter how long the flight is—at most, he’ll take a quick power nap somewhere in the middle if it’s over 9 hours, but other than that, he’s good to go.

Doesn’t mind if you fall asleep, and he always adjusts your neck pillow to make sure you don’t get cramps.

Jean

Travel champion. This man loves being in the airport even though he’s convinced it’s a time capsule, he fucking loves it.

King of “your airport fashion matters, babe.” Not necessarily wearing a whole three piece suit, but he does put in a little effort; it’s not just the first pair of sweats he has laying around.

Swears coffee tastes better in the airport. It does not. That does not stop him from buying it. He should learn to quit tho, especially for someone who hates airplane bathrooms as much as he does.

Charming with all the security personnel and desk assistants. You could be checking in for a flight at 4am, and Jean’s got people smiling and cheery for their shifts.

Bitches about the selection of movies on the flight, and learns to just download his own ahead of time. Gets really startled when he’s watching something and the flight attendants try to grab his attention for food or drinks—the very loud, classic, Jean Kirstein “HUH?”

On that note, he also gets startled by the loudspeaker announcements in the airport. He doesn’t know why he has to hear about American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun, when he is not on American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun.

Not opposed to paying extra for better airplane food or drinks on the plane if it’s the right time of day. He always finds something to toast to, plus he likes to treat you whenever and wherever he can.

Takes care of your overhead luggage and helps out the people around him if he sees they’re struggling. Gets shy when you call him a gentleman for it, and he rubs his neck, grumbling, “I was just helping the line move a little faster.”

Great timing, generous, will pick up your checked bags for you, and already rented a car a week in advance: 10/10 travel buddy.

Porco

He doesn’t like planes and there’s no solid reason why—nothing bad happened to him as a kid, and it’s not even that rare unfortunate incidents freak him out or anything—something flying just makes him a bit uneasy.

He won’t say it though, and he tries to keep it together when you’re checking in, but you can tell he’s anxious once you’re sitting and waiting for your flight to board.

He’ll ask to switch seats if you have the window seat, because somehow the feeling of being boxed in between the plane wall/window and another person makes it feel more like a car than a plane and he’s okay with that.

Going to the airport is one of the few times he hair won’t be styled, and falls in his face a bit. He usually throws on a beanie to cover it up, but you think he looks pretty cute either way.

Can’t usually fall asleep and he hates it because he just sits there thinking about the worst for the entire duration of the flight. But when you travel with him for the first time and coax him into taking a nap it’s so much better.

It’s about the only time he’ll let himself be publicly babied by you; but it makes everything so much easier that he doesn’t even mind.

So now, whenever you get on flights, he just puts his hood up, lays his head on your shoulder and waits for the magic to happen.

Bonus: you’re traveling with his friends, and Pieck and Marcel past to your seats, surprised to see Porco fast asleep on your shoulder. Pieck squeals, going on about how you must be a wizard to have gotten him to nap, to which Marcel just shakes his head, “Nah, he’s just really in love with her. Look at his face, that’s the calmest he’s been since he was five.”

Connie

Loves the airport. Not an ounce of organization in his soul though. By that I mean, yeah, he’s probably forgotten his passport at home, or forgotten that a full size bottle of body wash cannot go into his carry-on luggage.

Forgets to wear shoes that easy to take off and is fumbling over himself after the security check trying to lace them back up or put them back on.

Likes for you guys to have coordinating sweatsuits, and even though you don’t travel super often, Connie’s got at least 3 pairs of them lined up for you guys.

Sweet enough to drop plans or rearrange his schedule to travel with you if you were originally gonna be alone. He knows you can handle yourself, but he doesn’t want for you to travel alone if you don’t have to, especially if you’re going someplace far and/or for an extended period of time.

He always finds breakfast food to eat before he gets on his flight (if you two even have time to spare for food that is). It could be 9pm, but Connie’s asking for a breakfast wrap.

Hates waiting in the little pre-flight area. Claims it’s boring as hell and that’s why there’s no reason to get there 3 hours early 🙄🙄

He always spends at least 30 minutes browsing all the movie and TV show options available on-board, loudly exclaiming in excitement when they have something cool to watch—only to fucking fall asleep 10 minutes later. Right on top of you when he was oh-so-excited to watch Madagascar 2.

Always steals the aisle seat, even if it’s yours. It’s probably for the best though, because he has to get up to pee at least twice, no matter how short your flight is.

Makes some cheeky remark about you meeting him in the bathroom. He doesn’t mean it... unless he does. Unfortunately, you’ve never... successfully been able to do that out of fear of being caught by the flight attendants, but there have been a few quickies in the “family” (“It’s ethical, because technically we’re participating in the act of making a family, babe”) bathroom before you boarded. It’s his fault, not yours.

Armin

He really likes planes, and traveling in general. I think trains would be his favorite mode of transportation, but airplanes are good too.

I hate to say it but he claps when the plane lands. I will not elaborate or defend my stance on this.

Prefers the window seat because he likes to look out at the clouds as he’s in the sky.

He took his passport photo a little before he cut his hair, so the security personnel always hold it up and flicker between his ID photo and his current appearance a few times before stamping it. It makes him a little embarrassed because he can’t tell if they think he looks better or worse and sometimes he’s really fighting for his life convincing them that that’s him in the picture 😭

Listens to music rather than downloading a movie or watching a show, and always brings wire headphones to the airport so that it’s easier to share and listen with you.

If you fall asleep on him first, he’ll likely fall asleep on you shortly after. If he’s tired enough, he’ll fall asleep first, though he’s somewhat embarrassed and disappointed because he wanted to see the descent and skyline outside.

When he’s not asleep or window-watching, he’s somewhat fidgety out of excitement, rather than nervousness. He’s excited to be traveling and looks forward to wherever you’re going, even if it is just a weekend long work trip.

Hates traveling alone, though. It just feels particularly lonely to him to be going someplace foreign without company by his side. So, he’ll call you at every checkpoint and send you updates.

He only ever buys two things in duty free: shot glasses with the name of the city/country you’re traveling to, and whatever variety of button down short-sleeves are available to him.

Erwin

You knew this was coming, but this man is absolutely at the airport 18 hours before your flight takes off, and he’s driving like a manic getting there, like you don’t have all the time in the world.

Fascinated by anything and everything in duty free. Definitely spends more money than necessary on your return flight on the grounds that he was getting a good deal.

Exchanges money in the airport and keeps cash in his fanny pack. There’s no traveling without the fanny pack.

Plays crossword puzzles on his phone on the plane, and it’s just about one of the only games he has. That and Candy Crush—I get the feeling he’d be on level 500+ of that game and he always knocks out at least 10 levels on a flight.

Always a little surprised when he feels his your head on his shoulder, but he says nothing, and acts like he didn’t even notice, but there’s a telling little smile on his face.

Takes the most foul selfies of him and your sleeping self. In his defense, he had the best intentions; but that angle was flattering nobody. It’s too bad he’d already paid for the in-flight wifi and sent it to Hange because now you’ll never live them down.

You could probably get him to put on a (skincare) face mask during your flight. He forgets to take it off tho, and if you don’t tell him, he’d fully walk through customs with it on his face.

Accidentally gets drunk because he doesn’t understand that just because he can handle several glasses of whiskey in his favorite bar on a Friday night, does not mean it will translate on a plane.

[sleephyjhs]

When You’re Expecting (Taehyung Headcanon)

pairing: taehyung x pregnant!reader

warnings: mention of fertility & pregnancy complications

note: i’ve been craving to write a bts x pregnancy series for a while so here we go !! if there’s a specific member you’d like to see next, shoot me an ask :)

m.list

FINDING OUT

even before finding out you were pregnant, you both had so much love for your child

there was nothing either of you could have wanted more than a baby

it was always at the forefront of your mind how much you wanted a little human of your own

it was approaching a year since you began trying seriously

a few false hopes and two miscarriages later, fertility drugs were looking to improve the chances of conceiving

the raging hormones which came with the drugs were all worth the positive test

early september - sickness had hung around your throat for days

headaches lasted longer than usual, and crying at the most mundane things had become an unwelcome habit

in the bathroom cabinet, you’d collected a small stockpile of electronic and stick pregnancy tests

one of them would eventually show positive, right?

taehyung sat on the bathroom tiles with you

waiting two minutes felt closer to waiting two months

he crossed his legs, bouncing his knees impatiently

your knees came to your chin; high hopes weighed heavily on your heart

the alarm set on his phone beeped quietly

your heartbeat rose suddenly to your throat

taehyung reached out for your hand as you turned to read the results

two blue lines - as clear as day

they became less clear as your eyes coated with thick, salty tears

he began to chuckle as his happiness trickled down his cheeks

“we did it baby! we’re gonna have a baby!” he whispered, choked up by his own anticipation

no words were left swirling in your mind

your jaw hung open as though the hinges were faulty

shakily, you lifted the electronic test to triple check

pregnant.

as you crashed into taehyung’s open arms, memories of the past loomed in your mind

it was only inevitable

a positive test was a familiar joy to you both

however this familiar joy had only ever been followed by crippling devastation

as much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t help but retain maternal caution

however, this time also felt different

taehyung’s spirit, your spirit - it was as though fate didn’t want to disappoint you any more

someone out there decided it was finally your time to grow a mini human to bring into the world

of course, no time was wasted in contacting the maternity clinic

seeing your baby on a screen was now a top priority

just to see their little head, maybe even hear their heartbeat

just to know they were okay

just to know you were keeping them cosy and safe, that’s all you needed

taehyung couldn’t hold his excitement

from leaving the house to reaching the hospital, his toothy grin never wiped from his cheeks

he never said anything at the time since his main focus was always on comforting you

but losing his babies near enough tore him apart

even when you tried to comfort him, taehyung restricted himself just to protect your wellbeing

of course, the worse had already crossed his mind

but it wouldn’t get the better of him

it couldn’t.

you soon learned you were already 6 weeks pregnant

the midwife had to point out where your little baby was hanging out; they were such a tiny thing after all

briefly, you took the opportunity to hear their heartbeat

it was faint over the machine, but fast

there really was a life within you.

“there’s something else, if you just look over here...” the midwife prompted, turning the monitor so you could grasp a better view

taehyung leaned slightly over your chest to peer closely at the smaller monochrome screen

with the mouse, she circled a second bean shaped figure

“the fertility drugs increase the chance of twins. looks like you guys got lucky!”

twins. you were having twins.

THE PREGNANCY

like with most pregnancies, you were advised to wait until the 12 week milestone to begin announcing your impending delivery

and even though he understood the importance of patience right now, taehyung could hardly contain his excitement

it didn’t help that a little bump had already begun to grow

keeping a secret was much more difficult when the evidence was near impossible to hide

already, taehyung spent early mornings talking to his little angels

telling them stories he seemingly made up on the spot

or even borrowing some from his own childhood

“you know they can’t hear you yet? it’s about 7 weeks until they’ll be able to, honey.”

“i know, i’m just practising for when they can.”

of course, you wouldn’t admit that you did the same when you were alone

you attended more midwife appointments than other expectant mothers might

the pair of you much preferred being on the safer side

in the car, when on a quieter, less congested road, taehyung often reached over to cradle your still-growing bump with a free hand

you slotted your fingertips between his for additional sappiness

“you two have so many people waiting for you here, hmm? many people are already so in love with you both. me and mummy included.”

on a sleepless night, you’d made a small pact with tae

it was a rash decision, but sincere nonetheless

“no matter what, they are always going to know how wanted they were. always.”

taehyung hardly needed reminding of this, but it was still a weight off your shoulders

as you tried to conceive, the pregnancy diet had already been implemented into your daily routines

however now that you were carrying two precious babies, there really would be no more ‘cheat’ days for you

no more extra half cups of coffee on slower mornings

although you usually took over the role of head chef in the house, taehyung dedicated extra effort into preparing you both healthy and yummy foods

sautéd rice with green vegetables and lean meat/tofu appeared to be his go-to

but you still opted to supervise just in case

finally being able to announce your pregnancy was another heavy weight lifted from your mind

the other members were over the moon for you both

particularly when they reminded themselves of the struggles you had experienced previously

and also remembering the utter devastation of their taehyung when he had to break it to them

all of them kept their eye out for little gifts and outfits

each week, taehyung came home with a new stack of pale rompers or neutral-tones teething toys

these babies would have the best uncles; at least that much you could be certain of

announcing your pregnancy on social media was a looming task, but one he was determined to pull off perfectly

for filler content between schedules, the members had been asked to film a 5 minute vlog of their daily life

well, what a perfect opportunity!

towards the end, taehyung made sure to include some shots of your now protruding bump overlaid with some more vintage camera settings

safe to say, that day you had broken the internet

love, congratulations and blessings poured in from every corner of the earth

a few comments complimenting how much pregnancy suited you touched you especially

self image is commonly effected by the progression of pregnancy, and you were no exception to that

although it was amazing how your body grew and made a little home for your tiny babies, it was still quite strange to see yourself changing so quickly

your favourite clothes didn’t fit around your doubled bump anymore

and your skin seemed to hate sharing nutrients with two extra people

but for the days where you struggled to love yourself, taehyung easily filled in the gaps for you

sneaking up behind you in the bathroom

(although the mirror kinda gave him away)

he’d wrap his arms around your just-moisturised bump and carefully rest his chin on your shoulder

“tell me all your worries honey.”

you gushed over how much you missed wearing your favourite jackets

and how strange it was to look at yourself in such a new and confusing way

“i know it’s normal, and i know i have to do it for them. but i guess it’s just weird - i don’t look like myself anymore”

he sighed and planted a kiss on a spot of bare skin

those small kisses still tickled you like they always had

“well, you definitely look different,”

you really hoped there was a second part to that sentence, mostly for tae’s own good

“but why does that have to be bad? not gonna lie, it actually kinda makes you hotter. maybe we should make babies more often!”

“make~?”

LABOUR AND DELIVERY

originally, you had wanted to try and stick to the natural route for as long as you could

but after a few contractions, that idea was immediately out of the window

to help steady yourself and wait out the pain, you held onto the kitchen island and swayed to your own pace

eventually, taehyung joined you

copying the same movements while timing your contractions

“they really must be desperate to come out, huh?”

“well do you think they could hurry it up a bit?!”

the pair of you had been prepared for this for over a month

the hospital bag was ready by the door with all of your essentials packed tightly inside

not forgetting the pots of instant ramen taehyung insisted he must bring in case of an emergency

just as he was readying to back out of the driveway, taehyung took a mental stock check of everything packed in the back

“do you think we have everything?”

“i love you but stop talking please.”

thankfully, he understood well that the sheer pain made you cranky

so long as he assured himself that it was ‘just the contractions’, he’d be just fine

as much as he couldn’t wait to announce he was about to become a father to everyone, he kept himself grounded when walking you to the maternity ward

one corridor in and you’d suggested that a wheelchair might be a better mode of transport

breathlessness and contractions didn’t sound like a favourable mix to you

the assessment of your fast dilation granted you an immediate spot in the labour ward

you’d picked this suite specially due to its expansive space

the option of a birthing pool was still available if you so needed it, but the mood lighting and access to aromatherapy was what attracted you to the room in the first place

a serene paradise for your angels to be born into

it was perfect

taehyung explored while you adjusted to your new surroundings

of course, it didn’t take him long to find the birthing ball

“what’s the difference between a yoga ball and a birthing ball?”

there obviously was none, but you took a few seconds to try and be smart with him

“well, sit on that and you might have a baby the size of a watermelon come out of you soon.”

taehyung cradled his torso and pulled a shocked expression, which was enough to make you giggle and cause another contraction

less than a few hours passed, and you had already attempted to scream the building down once or twice

“get these babies out of me. no i’m serious, i need them out.”

realising your deadpan expression, taehyung soon attended to you at the head of your bed

stroking your slightly sweaty head and patting a ice cold flannel on your clammy forehead

he braced himself for a crushing hand grip which came about sooner than he’d prepared for

you weren’t the biggest fan of commotion, and so being surrounded by nurses and doctors was close to being your worst nightmare

taehyung focused his voice into your ear, trying to minimise the tension coming from below your pelvis

his motivational words were broken up by short bursts of pushes

many of which were followed by a string of curse words which just slipped out

and then, there it was.

the first piercing cry belted across the room

a tear or two may have happened to slip from your eyes

finally the moment you’d waited for, nearly two years in the making, was here

the first of two, a little girl who already had a head full of the most luscious black hair

taehyung wanted to hold back his happy tears in order to show some kind of strength

but you and him both knew he’d never hold it back for long

within the space of 4 minutes, the second baby was born into the world.

but this time, there was no immediate cry

the whole world seemed to slow down in that moment as you waited

and waited

midwifes gathered around the new infant, looking for any kind of obstruction

but, soon enough, your son said his first hello to the world

[yukipri]

One Piece Mermaid AU!

Featuring Luffy as a rubber mermaid who can’t swim, and Ace who carries her on his back as they pirate together.

＊Genderbend warning, fem!Luffy

Sliding in last minute for MerMay, bc idk about you, but I need something to mark that May has passed this year...

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!

~~

Base headcanons for this AU beneath the cut! ↓ ↓ ↓

Luffy's a mermaid who was raised in Fuusha village, just like in canon. And, just like in canon, despite being a mermaid, she SUCKS at swimming, a fact that Shanks finds absolutely hilarious. She still wants to become a pirate, she still eats her devil fruit and becomes a rubber mer(?), she still gets kidnapped by Higuma (who sees her as an excellent way to rake in cash, given how valuable mermaids are on the slave market), and Shanks still gives her his hat.

As a devil fruit user, Luffy's already atrocious swimming skills are now at zero. She can still breathe under water, but will sink like a stone, her strength sapped by the sea, and if she loses consciousness she'll stop breathing too. Needless to say, she stays out of the water, and the villagers come to accept that sometimes, mermaids just live on land.

Garp still comes back, and is still furious at her wanting to become a pirate (and inwardly, extremely concerned that a bandit tried to catch and sell her), and still takes her to live at Dadan's where she meets Ace.

Ace has no idea what to think of the weird fish-brat who he's now told is gonna be his sibling, and resolutely ignores Luffy. He's inwardly slightly impressed as Luffy continues to follow him through the mountain every day, not even particularly hindered by lack of legs and using a mixture of crawling, squirming, hand-walking, and ricocheting forward with rubber arms to move.

Luffy still meets Sabo the same way as canon, and is still caught by Porchemy, who at first is thrilled because a mer brat! That'll bring in WAY more money than the spare change Ace stole! But in the end, he loses his temper at Luffy's stubbornness and still beats her to a pulp.

Ace and Sabo still rescue Luffy, and they still exchange sake cups and become brothers.

Yes, brothers.

Because at this point, neither Ace nor Sabo nor any of the bandits, nor anyone really on Dawn island save Makino and Garp actually know that Luffy's a girl. Not even Luffy.

The three brothers promise to each other that they'll all leave the island when they turn seventeen, setting out to sea to become pirates (Ace and Sabo are honestly a little concerned, given how often people try to sell Luffy, and how despite aquatic appearances Luffy's vulnerable af in water, but decide to wait and see. They have seven years together, Luffy ten until seventeen, who knows how much stronger their baby brother will get in that time).

Sabo "dies."

Ace and Luffy continue to train, and things don't change until Ace is seventeen, shortly before he sets out to sea.

He's let Luffy crawl into his blanket to sleep with him (partially cold-blooded, Lu gets cold easily when inactive), and Ace realizes that his lil brother's chest feels a bit lumpy.

Concerned, he makes Luffy have it checked out by the bandits, who are shocked to find developing...breasts?

That can't be right...right?

Dadan makes a call to Garp, who snorts and says of COURSE Luffy's a girl, didn't he say granddaughter?

No, he had not, he had only mentioned "grand child."

Everyone is shocked, but none more so than Ace, who really doesn't know what to do with this new information.

(Luffy's not quite sure what a "girl" is, and when she asks Ace, Ace honestly doesn't know how to define "girl" either, so she doesn't get what the big deal is)

Ace realizes he's troubled because he can't remember the number of times he's rescued Luffy from potential traffickers, and the number of times he's heard the lament, "Pity it's not female, it'd be worth quadruple," from the kidnappers before he beats them to a pulp.

He already had doubts about letting Luffy go out to sea alone, three years after he's left. But now knowing that Luffy's a girl, and one of the most sought-after species that traffickers target...he knows the world out there is much bigger than a teeny peaceful East Blue island, and Luffy may not get lucky every time, and may not be strong enough in just three years.

But at the same time, it's not like he can order her to stay here. There's no way Luffy'd listen; the sea calls to her, freedom calls to her, and Ace understands that more than anyone.

Sabo, Ace thinks, what would you do?

The night before he leaves, Ace tells Luffy that there's been a change of plans.

He's still leaving for sea. He's going to get stronger, and work his way towards becoming Pirate King.

BUT, three years later, Luffy will NOT leave Dawn Island alone.

Ace promises that he'll come back, a stronger pirate capable of looking out for his baby brother (because girl or not, they exchanged vows of brotherhood, and that's something that can't be changed).

He refuses to let Luffy be his captain, he's still got his pride, but maybe, maybe if Luffy becomes strong enough, he'll let her be co-Captain.

Luffy is thrilled, because she wanted to be pirates WITH Ace, and grudgingly accepts the compromise, and promises to train and wait for Ace's return.

Ace leaves Dawn island, and makes a name for himself on the Grand Line (he's PISSED when he finds out he's eaten a devil fruit, because now how's he supposed to rescue Lu from drowning when he can't swim himself???).

He even eventually makes it to Whitebeard, and eventually comes to admire the man. Whitebeard invites him to his crew, and Ace honestly replies that a large part of him wants to accept...but he can't. He promised his baby brother that they'll be pirates and co-captains together, and he can't join another pirate crew without Luffy agreeing too. Even so, and he knows it's selfish of him, he wants to call Whitebeard his father.

Whitebeard tells him that Ace is already his son, regardless of where his allegiances lie, and gives him his blessing to return to East Blue to fetch Luffy. Whitebeard laughs that he can't wait to meet the lil brat that Ace speaks so highly of, and for Ace to hurry up and come back to the New World so they can meet.

Ace plans on traveling light, his former crew all choosing to join the Whitebeard pirates except for his first mate, Deuce. Ace loves his crew, but they're also his crew, and knows that he wants to make their crew with Luffy. So he thinks he and Deuce will be a good starting point (You're just bringing me along bc you want someone who can swim on the crew, Deuce accuses).

As they're planning on leaving, Marco lets slip to fellow commander Thatch that he heard that Ace's "little brother" is actually a super cute girl.

The next morning, Thatch shows up too, insisting that he come along, because hey! He's been with the Whitebeards for ages and hasn't been to Paradise in a while, he wants some change! And won't it be nice to have someone as reliable as him along, just until they get back to the New World and reunite with the Whitebeards? Really he has no ulterior motives like wanting to check out Ace's supposedly hyper hot baby brother-sister!

Ace is suspicious, but Thatch is already on board and the other Whitebeards are already waving so he lets it go.

(Shortly after they leave, Thatch discovers a devil fruit. Deuce tells him to sell the damn thing, it'll taste like shit, but Thatch thinks boy wouldn't it be great to be able to woo Ace's hot brother with a really cool devil fruit power. So he eats it, and yeah it tastes like shit, but now he can control Darkness which is sorta badass?)

(Somewhere on the Whitebeard ships, Blackbeard is still waiting for someone to find the darkness devil fruit, and well, it doesn't happen)

Before Ace returns to Dawn Island, part of him still hopes that Luffy looks passably like a guy. Having been to Fishman island, having befriended Jinbe, he knows that while mermen can still be targeted, mermaids are exponentially more vulnerable. He's learned the kinds of clothing that can help conceal tails, and is hoping that there's a slim chance they might be able to be pirates without the world knowing that Lu's a mermaid.

His hopes are shot when Luffy rockets into his arms at the dock, and his face is immediately buried in enormous tits that definitely weren't there three years ago.

Despite Ace's growing concerns (and red face; why does he feel so hot??? It's not his devil fruit...), Ace lets Luffy give Deuce a beating (why me?!) to claim her position as Ace's Co-Captain of the newly established ASL pirates (because if we're pirates together, Sabo has to be with us too!).

Luffy's gotten a lot stronger, but is still utterly ignorant of the outside world and the dangers it holds (such as the drooling Thatch who immediately wins Luffy over with his cooking despite Ace's burning glares). She's reckless and falls into the ocean every damn day, and while Deuce dives in after her and they've discovered her useful ability to talk to fish to ask for help, it still gives Ace heart attacks.

They still pick up more crew members while in East Blue, including Roronoa Zoro, Usopp, and Sanji, a pervy cook who competes daily with Thatch for Luffy's affections through food (Luffy appreciates the food).

At Arlong Park, Luffy encounters fishmen for the first time in her life. Arlong mocks Luffy's choice of friends and family, and invites her to join his crew made of her own kind. Fishmen and mer are the superior race, and Luffy will make a fine wife, Arlong says.

Luffy breaks his nose off, and Nami joins their crew.

Luffy's chosen mode of transportation is on the back of one of her sturdier crew mates, usually Ace, but often Zoro too. She unfortunately hates all the long skirts/robes Ace suggested for her to hide her tail, and so Ace has decided that being as intimidating as possible while carrying his brother glued to his back is the only way to go.

Needless to say, news of the former Spade Pirates Captain + Whitebeard Commander Thatch (are they an extension of the Whitebeards??) establishing the new ASL pirates spreads fast. That, and rumors that there's a beautiful young mermaid on board who can't swim. And despite the strength of the crew and their attempts at vigilance, Luffy's still dumb and gullible, and is kidnapped (and rescued) a dozen times before they're even on the Grand Line.

(after a few times, Luffy's uncharacteristically quiet, and privately asks Ace if they can break up the crew. She's holding Ace back; she not only made him come back to her, but half their adventures just seem to be her crew rescuing her. She's strong enough to defeat enemies, but not save herself. Ace tells her to shut up, and never bring this up again; they're BROTHERS, and he's not going to leave her behind or make her abandon her dreams when she can't accomplish them alone, and that's his choice. Luffy doesn't bring it up again, but works harder than ever to become stronger and earn recognition as co-Captain when the world seems intent on thinking of her as Ace's pet.)

During one of these kidnappings, Luffy's successfully brought all the way to an auction house before her crew can rescue her. An auction house that unbeknownst to them, was under investigation by the Revolutionary Army.

Liberating slaves is an unfortunately common mission for them, and Sabo's doing final sweeps as Koala frees the last of them when he notices a tank stowed away in a corner. He's familiar with these tanks, used to showcase mermaids in the rare occasions one can be caught, and it looks empty but he's still drawn to it for some reason.

It's only when he gets closer that he notices a mermaid crumpled at the bottom of the enclosure. She's completely slumped over, and he's afraid she's already gone, even as something about her screams with familiarity.

He's cracked the tank and has reached in to pull her out, when the wall behind him explodes in flames, revealing a furious Ace who snarls at the strange man with his hands on his baby brother...

...and then Sabo's memories come back.

~~

Something like that???? For an initial HCs dump????

This AU has continued! A LOT! Check out the comics, illustrations, and text stories for this AU under the Mermaid AU section of my One Piece Masterpost!

As always, REBLOGS, tags, asks, and comments greatly appreciated!

Advance posts for this AU and more are on my Patreon! (Patreon(.)com/YukiPri)

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

Help Wanted, A Prequel

(Mun here! I’ve been a bit busy writing drabbles and finally finished one up. It’s the backstory of how Magda came under the employment of House Dimitrescu.

One thing I’ve noticed is that pre-castle Magda is a bit more rough around the edges than seamstress Magda. I hope you all enjoy it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shuttle bus rolling to a stop was what woke Magdalena from her slumber. Normally, she didn’t fall asleep on such rides but the night train from Bucharest to Bistrița hadn’t exactly been restful. But, to its credit, the bus had been mostly empty.

Mostly.

As what seemed to always be the rule with nearly empty buses, an older woman just had to sit next to her. It didn’t matter that there were plenty of other empty seats she could have chosen from. No, she decided to sit right next to Magdalena… and then proceed to talk almost incessantly about to her family, to the point where the younger woman had to fake falling asleep.

Except that in faking it, she actually eventually succumbed to her tiredness.

Looking out the window, Magda rubbed her eyes and blinked, more than a bit confused at the sight of trees closer than they should have been if they were at a rest stop. Which they were not.

The bus was parked in the middle of an unpaved mountain road, the motor turned off, and the driver standing over her. Also noticeable was the fact that, aside from herself and said looming driver, there were no other passengers on the bus.

“Did we break down?” Magda asked cautiously, sitting up.

“There was a rock slide on the main road, closing it down,” he replied, a little too casually. “This is the detour. The other passengers decided to wait at the last rest stop for a bus back, but you had no complaints, so I continued.”

“I had no complaints? I was asleep! And now we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Why the hell hadn’t anyone woken her up? Even the woman who tried to talk her ear off. Magda just loved and appreciated the everlasting kindness of strangers.

“Exactly. And since you’re my only passenger, we should talk. If you want to keep going, you’ll need to pay more.”

“Keep going?! We’re on a dirt road!” she yelled. “Where the hell are we even going?!”

“That is a good point,” he answered, scratching his chin. “We’re on the side of some mountain. You’ll need to pay me to get back to the main road. And civilization.” Magda blinked, dumbfounded. Was he really trying to extort her for more money?

Looking out the window, she stalled for time in order to think of a solution that didn’t involve punching the driver in the face. She didn’t have money; certainly not enough he would consider worth his time and effort. If he knew that, it was possible he’d want a different form of compensation, and she wasn’t about to give that up for him. As Magda mulled over her options, something caught her eye through the trees. It was the turrets of a rather imposing castle. She then saw the turning blades of a large windmill a bit further off, as well as smoke curling from what looked like modern chimneys nestled in the shadow of the castle.

Smoke meant civilization, people, and a potential alternate exit from this hellhole of a scenario.

“I’ll take my chances walking,” she informed the driver while standing up with her bag and doing her best to shoulder past him hard in one swift motion. She almost made it to the door too before being roughly grabbed and pulled back.

“There are wolves and other things in these woods that will happily eat you right up, little girl,” the driver growled, his breath a bit too warm and close to Magda’s neck for comfort.

“Better there than here,” she countered, shifting her weight into him while delivering an elbow to his ribs and the heel of her palm sharply to the side of his nose. It might not have exceedingly effective, but it was enough to escape his grip, as well as the bus. Once outside, Magda did her best to put distance between herself and the road, scrambling through the woods and undergrowth. For all she knew, the driver could have been armed and more than a little pissed off.

After running for a bit, she jumped down an embankment and paused, catching her breath while listening. There were no sounds of pursuit, which she was grateful for, and after a few tense minutes, she heard a motor fire up and the bus drive away.

Now she was well and truly stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, there was absolutely a sudden reaction of ‘what the fuck did you just do, Magdalena?’ but that thought was shushed as worry about the other alternative was brought up as a brief counter-argument. It was the lesser of two evils. Besides, there was the nearby town. Perhaps they had vehicles to rent or someone would be nice enough to drive her to the nearest train station. Hell, if the castle was any indication, maybe it was a local tourist destination with a proper hotel where she could get cleaned up and spend the night.

At least that was what Magda had intended and hoped for.

It was safe to say that she hadn’t dressed for a hike through the woods, but rather a walk through the metropolitan area of a well populated city. Thankfully, she had the decency to wear sensible boots. It was also safe to say that, when it came to mountains, distances were deceiving. Yes, it wasn’t that far to the town, as the crow flew, but for Magda, there were some unexpected ups and downs. Eventually she came upon what looked to be an old farm trail, which saved her ankles from being rolled too much. Either way, by the time she reached the town, she was more than a bit tired.

Not that it could even be considered a town.

It was more like a village, and a poor one at that. Or perhaps one that still lived in a era where not much had changed since the Soviets had marched through. If you were from a more cultured or modern city, it was sometimes still a shock, and a sobering one at that, to see that there were still areas where the horse and cart were still just as prevalent as more modern modes of transportation, and they cut hay with scythes that they had just sharpened by hand that morning. Being away at school and traveling the various cities of Western Europe had spoiled Magda.

The roads were all dirt and gravel or rather, due to a recent rain, gravel and mud. This was a gray mud that was somehow both slippery and sticky, grabbing hold of Magda’s boots at any chance it got. The houses, though in decent shape, were old and worn. Fresh coats of blue, yellow, white, and red paint gave life to wood that was otherwise weathered with that unmistakable brown-grey color brought on by time. The fences, some metal, but most wood, were kept in good shape, as they were what contained the multitudes of chickens she saw, along with a few pigs, goats, and horses.

What Magda didn’t see much of were people. Yes, the village was inhabited, but as soon as she approached any of the residents, they all hurried inside their dwellings, shut the door, and ignored any attempts she made at communication.

“This is ridiculous! We are in Romania, right? You do speak Romanian? The damn bus driver couldn’t have crossed a border!” Magda yelled to no one. Even if he had been able to do so, the surrounding countries recognized the language she spoke. Clearly these people just hated outsiders. Mumbling a few choice words about hospitality, she continued into the center of town. If she could make it to the castle, maybe she could find out where the hell she was and learn exactly how she could get out of here.

The village square was as disappointing as the rest of the village. Aside from the roads converging, the only way she knew it was the village center was because of the statue. It was a crouching woman, armed with a sword and shield, clearly ready to do battle with… something unseen. The plaque read ‘Maiden of War’ which made Magda smile a little. When she was little, her grandparents had spoken about the village they were from having a statue of a warrior maiden. If this was the same village, it would be one hell of a coincidence. Though if the rest of their stories were to be believed, then the castle was home to a terrible monster. Actually, all the aristocrats were supposed to be monsters. As she grew older, Magda chocked that up to being a bit of resentment towards the ruling class, political upheaval, and whatever else would make overthrowing the elite easier in the minds of the populace.

Besides, even if they were monsters, the people in the castle had to be more helpful than the villagers.

The gate that separated the village from the castle grounds was large and impressive, with a carved relief depicting the warrior maid fighting a horned demon. The laugh that escaped her was brief, but maybe a bit harsh. This almost looked like something an American would put outside a castle in an effort to claim it belong to Vlad Tepes. All that was missing were the impaled bodies. Maybe this had been a failed tourist attempt, trying to ride the coattails of the many Dracula movies made over the years. Either way, the road to the castle looked well traveled and she could see faint lights in the windows, so someone must be living there.

As she made her way up the road, Magda re-evaluated the owner’s intentions yet again when she saw the grapevines. She knew absolutely nothing about vineyards and winery, but if one had an old castle with extensive cellars that were kept at a stable temperature, and the soil was good enough, why not start producing wine? It still didn’t explain why the locals treated her as such. Perhaps they were naturally wary of outsiders or just pissed off people in general. Not that it really mattered. She’d be out of their hair soon enough.

At a distance, the castle looked old, gothic, and imposing, but up close, Magda knocked a few hundred years off its age, moving it away from the mountain fortresses that waged war and stood against sieges in the Middle Ages to something more along the lines of the proverbial fairytale castles built in the 1700’s. Turrets, balconies, and large windows abounded. Once you looked past the dark exterior stone coloring, it was actually quite beautiful, and she spent a few minutes admiring the facade before making her way to the front door.

Though the small lion-headed door knockers looked purely ornamental, Magda still used them to announce her presence. After a second try and a few minutes without an answer, she made sure her boots were free of that awful mud before testing the doorknob. The door opened easily and silently, revealing a gorgeously ornate entry hall, centered on an alcove holding a painting of three young women.

“Three daughters… Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela,” she read quietly off the title plaque. White walls, with gilded details and carved woodwork; it all said this was either a home or a museum. Part of Magda hoped it was the latter, so she wouldn’t feel like she was intruding, but again, this didn’t fully explain the state of the village below… unless the person who owned this castle was some overly moneyed individual that looked down on anyone who couldn’t date their family history back eighteen generations and therefore didn’t care about commoners.

To the right of the entrance hall was a room containing an antique elevator. It was something that didn’t look to be in the best of shape, but then again neither was the room itself. Magda had a feeling it was left over from when the castle was built, probably used to move materials to the upper levels. The hallway on the opposite side of the entrance hall looked much more promising. At least for the time being.

The luxury of the castle continued on with inlayed wood floors, lace and brocade curtains, antique furniture, and art pieces scattered all about. Magda quietly made her way down the hallway, listening for any indication of people. The stillness that surrounded her was almost palpable. Which was probably why the normally soft sound of a door opening seemed as loud as a gunshot. Through the doorway at the bottom of the the stairs came a tall woman dressed all in black, with a hood pulled up in order to put her face and red hair in shadow.

“I am very sorry to intrude and disturb you, ma’am,” Magda apologized. “I was just looking for the owner of this castle or someone I could see about possibly getting a ride into a nearby city?” The woman just smiled and giggled a little as she started up the stairs.

“Awwww, you’re lost and looking for someone?” she crooned. “Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m someone.” That was when Magda noticed the sickle in the redhead’s hand and the bloodstains on both her face and dress. Then there was also the matter of her height. At first Magda thought it was just due to an odd angle, but as the other woman climbed the stairs, Magda realized she had to be well over six feet tall, possibly nearing seven. Alarm bells began ringing in her head.

“Oh! Oh, no… no, you see, I am very sorry. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but I am soooo very sorry for interrupting you. You’re clearly busy, so I’ll let you be,” she explained while quickly backpedaling the way she came, doing her best not to run, despite every instinct saying to do just that. What kind of place had she stumbled upon?

Magda’s steady retreat stopped when she backed into something unexpected. Risking a look behind her, she saw another equally tall woman, dressed almost identically to the redhead, only this one was a brunette, and the look in her eyes was more of a predatory nature. As if she were choosing the right cut of beef off a cow.

Her exit blocked by the brunette, Magda did a stupid thing and bolted for the nearby double doors. She touched the handles just as they burst open, revealing a third individual. Turning to run, arms encircled Magda, pulling her back and holding her tight.

“Never have we had prey come to us so eagerly,” the third woman, a blonde, said with a loud laugh and manic grin. She then leaned in close and inhaled deeply, causing Magda to flinch and close her eyes, going still in the woman’s arms. “I do so enjoy hot blood tinged with fear… Promise you’ll scream for me when I cut you open?” she whispered excitedly into her ear.

“And here I thought you never played with your food,” the brunette quipped drily. Magda could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes.

“Just because you have what seems to be a perishingly limited imagination, Cassandra, that doesn’t mean that I have to share the same fate.” These two argued like siblings, while the redhead simply smiled and traced her fingers over and around the sickle she held, all the while watching Magda.

“You’ve never shared anything in your life. Why start now?” Cassandra countered.

“You are absolutely correct. Maybe next time you’ll be faster and finally get a bite.” As the blonde replied, the impossible happened. Part of the woman’s body dissolved… and turned into insects. She still held Magda close and tight, but her lower half had utterly disappeared into a swarming mass of flies. Then they suddenly took off together, flying through the castle. Whereas Magda had thought she might have been able to talk her way out of this situation prior to this insanity, now she was utterly filled with dread; a cold fear washing over her. What were these things? How was any of this even possible? Was this how she was going to die? All these thoughts were wiped away as she was dumped, a bit unceremoniously, on the floor of bedchamber.

“Mother… this was found wandering the halls.” The room was mostly dark, lit only by the roaring fire in the hearth. A feminine figure sat behind a desk littered with paperwork. Something was off about the woman. Maybe it was due a combination of the large hat she wore, the dancing shadows caused by the firelight, and the angle Magda was laying at, but something just didn’t look right, and she didn’t know why.

“Ma’am, I can explain. I was on a bus and the driver was trying to extort money from me, so I thought I’d have better luck with getting a ride in your town. The people there were less willing to help, so I came here. I swear I haven’t stolen anything,” she explained in a hurried fashion, hoping they could somehow reach an understanding.

“ ‘My town’? How quaint of you to say that.” The woman’s voice and small chuckle that followed were both rich and cultured, with a foreign affected accent, like she had been educated somewhere other than Romania. Had she been? Did wealthy families still send their children abroad to study? “Whether or not you have stolen anything isn’t the issue, my dear. You are still trespassing, and I do not take kindly to those that trespass on my property.” With that, the woman stood up.

And up.

Magda’s face blanched as the woman’s head drew level with the top of the nearby canopied bed. She had to have been ten feet tall.

“Futu-i!” she yelled, scrambling back and away, only to bump, once again, into the brunette woman, the smiling redhead standing beside her. Hands roughly grabbed Magda, hauling her to her feet. “Ma’am, I’m sorry!” Her voice trembled with fear. “I knocked, but there was no answer and your door was unlocked. Had I known, I wouldn’t have entered, I swear. Please don’t kill me.” That last sentence was said in a pathetic whimper which made the lady smile in a manner that was both pleased and terribly cruel-looking. As if she had heard that request time and time before.

Magda’s stomach sank as she realized she likely had.

The blood stained dresses and sickles were one indication. Her eyes wandered, finding more. There were unusual dark spots on the rug and shackles by the fire. Their impossible height and ability to change into insects. As impossible as it seemed, these women weren’t human. Did vampires really exist? Magda was so in shock and distracted by that thought that she didn’t realize what else was going on until she felt a pressure draw across her left wrist. She blinked. The blonde was holding a knife and Magda could see blood welling up on her wrist. Oddly enough, there was no pain. Just the blood flowing easily and freely.

A large, leather gloved hand cupped her wrist in a firm yet gentle manner. For as lavish as the home decor was, Magda couldn’t help but notice how less than ideal the state of the tall woman’s dress was. The buttons at her wrist were loose, and the fabric? Although it was clean, there were minute stains either from food, in terms of her sleeves and bustline, or from general dirt, if her hemline was any indication. She also saw small repairs where a seam had popped or a tear had formed. It wasn’t the worst stitching she’d seen, but it could have been better. Why was a woman this rich wearing clothing repaired many times over? Yes, she had to have everything custom made, but that surely wasn’t an obstacle, was it?

The lady’s head suddenly dipped into view and almost immediately her tongue was felt along Magda’s wrist. She hissed in pain, forgetting all her questions, and unintentionally tried to pull her hand away, but to no avail. The lady’s grasp was incredibly strong and, in that moment of resistance, they locked eyes.

She had a dread beauty about her. Pale white skin, coal-black hair, deep crimson lips made that much darker by the blood, and eerily captivating yellow eyes. Even with her life currently on the line, Magda was absolutely taken by her.

The tasting was brief, lasting no more than a few seconds. The tall lady stood there for a quiet few moments before making a small hum of approval.

“Take her to the cellar and drain her,” she said in a dismissive manner and a flick of her hand. Almost immediately, Magda found herself being dragged towards the door and to her doom. For what it was worth, she did put up a good fight. Having a brother five years her senior gave Magda the knowledge of how to defend against someone bigger and stronger than her. It probably had been a good thing that, up until this point, she had been nothing but meek and quiet. However, despite her valiant effort and a surprisingly well placed elbow to the brunette’s midsection, she found herself pinned and being dragged away once more.

They say that the strangest things can come out of a person’s mouth when they’re in danger. That they would promise anything just to live a little while longer.

Magda clearly was not an exception to that particular rule.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Wait! Your dress! I can make it better! I can do better than whoever you have on hand with your current repairs. I went to school for this! I was on my way to Cluj-Napoca to work at the National Opera as a seamstress!” A slight lie. The National Opera had said to check back with them in six months to a year for a chance at an opening. Until then, she had secured a gig at the North Theatre in Satu Mare. “I know how to sew and I know how to draft patterns! Let me live and I swear I will make you the most beautiful wardrobe made out of the finest fabrics I can find. If money is not an obstacle, I will have you wearing the best silks, satins, brocades, and whatever else pleases you!”

At that, the woman held up a hand and all movement in the room stopped. She studied Magda; scrutinizing and looking for any hint of a lie or falsehood. After a minute that seemed to be drawn out for an eternity, she finally spoke.

“A trial run. Two weeks. You’ll be shown to your new home and given tasks. Complete them,” she ordered. There was no leniency to those words or any sign of gentleness. She then stepped closer to Magda, looking down at her and using her height to cut an even more imposing figure. “Should you fail or try to run, you’ll wish you had died today,” she purred, showing off a wicked little grin. “Bela, tend to her wrist and then escort our new seamstress to her workshop. She has work to do.”

“Yes, mother,” the blonde said, stepping forward and quickly ushering Magda out of the room. Unlike the previous escorting, this time she was gentle. A hand pressing against the small of her back was all that was needed to keep Magda moving. Did she pay attention to where they were going? No. Should she have? Yes, absolutely, but she was still trying to understand what all had just happened.

The room they entered could have been a study or den, perhaps even a catch-all room if the miniature castle in the corner was any indication. Taking a seat at the desk, Magda made the mistake of glancing at her wrist. The incision was neat and clean, but blood had made little rivulet pathways all over her hand and wrist, while a smeared streak up her forearm indicated where the woman’s tongue had been. As if in response of being observed, the wound suddenly began to ache and throb. Magda quickly looked away, not wanting to risk passing out or becoming sick.

She hated the sight of her own blood.

Bela, meanwhile, retrieved a small medical kit from a locked drawer. She then proceeded to carefully and systematically clean almost the entirety of Magda’s forearm and hand, even going as far as checking under her fingernails.

“Five minutes ago, you were fantasizing about drinking my blood,” Magda commented.

“That was five minutes ago,” she answered matter of factly before applying the iodine. It stung and Magda reacted accordingly as every normal human did, by wincing in pain. “Hold still,” Bela ordered, positioning her arm back under the desk light. The suturing of the wound once more made Magda turn away and examine the contents of the room in great detail.

“If this is enough to turn your stomach, then for your sake you had best been telling the truth to mother. She abhors liars.”

“I was telling the truth, I swear it,” the quiet reply came, the reality of her situation now sinking in. Bela made a small, noncommittal noise.

“You should also be careful with how you swear.” Advice now given, the wound was quickly covered in a piece of gauze and neatly wrapped.

“Thank you,” Magda offered. Bela gave no response, only putting the medical kit away and gesturing for Magda to accompany her out of the room. The taller blonde allowed no time for her to look around, keeping the pace at a brisk walk… for her. With her height and longer strides, that meant Magda had to almost jog in order to keep up.

The workshop was…quite the state. It was obvious that no one had been working in here for a rather long time. Magda didn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Cobwebs, dust, and machinery that, if she were lucky, would actually manage to function for the next two weeks. She wanted to sigh. She wanted to scream and cry or do something that would at least alleviate the frustration of her current situation. However, Bela was probably expecting that, maybe even looking forward to it, just so she could run off to tell her mother and then start sharpening their knives for dinner.

So instead, Magda simply took a deep breath and nodded. “This… will do. Bring whatever items you need repaired and I will take care of them.” There was a drone of insects taking flight behind her and, by the time she turned to look, all Magda saw was the tail end of an insect swarm leaving the room. Once the sound had subsided, she quietly closed the door and sat against it, trying not to cry or to think about the fresh hell she was just been thrown into and what would happen if she failed during these next two weeks.

[huilian]

for @ascreamingbean!!!!!

Damian looks at the handful of people who made it through to the other side, searching, hoping for a familiar face, even when he knows it’s impossible. But then, things are never impossible in their line of work, are they? He has died and came back to life. Many of his family have died and came back. What’s one more miracle?

Richard could have miraculously gotten out of the compound. Jason could have survived in space without any protective gear. Stephanie and Cassandra could have activated their transporter just before their pod exploded. Timothy could have had the time to squeeze into the portal before it closed shut.

They could have. Their family have done more impossible things. 

Richard, Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, Timothy. Richard, Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, Timothy. Damian chants their name inside his head, still having hope that they can be here, against all odds, if he wishes it enough.

He sees none of them. 

No. 

Damian closes his eyes, begging to anyone who will listen, even though he is aware that he should know better. Just one. Please. Just let one of them make it, and he would never ask for anything ever again. Never. Just let one of them make it, just let one of them be here with him, any one of them, and Damian will never complain about or wish for anything ever again. 

Just one. Please. Just let one of them survive.

He opens his eyes and looks again, going so far as to activate his mask’s face recognition algorithm, but he still can’t find any of them. Not a sight of an electric blue sweep, shining bright in the darkness. No hint of a red helmet, boldly declaring the owner’s presence. No blonde hair blown up by the wind, nor splotches of yellow in a black suit. No red tunic that he used to hate so much.

It hits him, then. There’s no one. He’s truly alone.

He’s Robin, and he’s alone in the midst of dozens of people, who are all looking at him with frightened faces, the only people left from their earth. 

He’s still Robin, even when there is no Batman, no Nightwing, no Red Hood, no Black Bat, no Batgirl, no Red Robin. 

He’s still Robin, even when he doesn’t know how to be one without anyone else, and so he looks at the terrified expressions aimed at him, all looking at him for directions, and he grits his teeth, schools his expression, and lifts his chin up. 

He’s Robin, and he is going to help them, no matter what he’s feeling right now.

“Follow me,” Damian says, with conviction he doesn’t feel. Follow the protocol for being in an alternate earth. Be calm. Make sure the civilians are alright. 

Be calm. 

Damian starts walking. 

***

“Are we ready to go?” Tim asks Richard, who is still looking at the glaring, ever-increasing number, counting the number of people who died, and the list of the hero-casualties. 

Father’s name is on that list. So is Superman’s. And Wonder Woman’s. And most of the League’s. 

They have lost, and they are now running, fleeing for their lives. Well, the ones still alive to do so. 

Damian looks at the humongous ship, ready to fly away from this earth in search for another place to live, and imagines that he could see the crowds of people huddled inside. This is it. All that is left of his earth. 

There were other ships and other heroes. Richard had arranged for it all. Then they destroyed every single one of their ships except this one, and all the people within it. This is their last chance. Their last saving grace.

Damian wonders where his mother was when the strike hits, and whether his mother survived it or not. If she had survived it, would she refuse the heroes’ help? Or would she be amongst the scared, traumatized, and tired survivors, who had hope to live for only moments before they were also killed? 

She is not here, that Damian knows. 

Damian sees Richard takes one last look at the list of names, scrolling through them like he wants to commit it to memory. He had taken charge of the rescue, and now the evacuation attempt, as soon as it was clear that whatever had been left of the League cannot handle the situation anymore. He had called for anyone that was still alive in his entire network of friends and acquaintances, and even rivals, to come help and save what was left of the earth. 

His network of friends brought their own connections, totalling in hundreds of people working to save earth. But it still wasn’t enough. 

They were not enough. 

And so here they are, rounding up the last of earth’s population, hoping to find a place for them somewhere else. 

Richard’s face is calm, but Damian knows his brother. He knows how to look, and he sees grief and regret and pain. 

Most of the names on that list are just that to Damian, names. He doesn’t know them, other than the vaguely familiar names here and there. The source of Damian’s despair is more on the fact that nearly all that was left of his earth was gone.  

(He is letting the fact that Father is dead, and Mother is most likely dead, and that Pennyworth is dead, and that… No. He is letting that fact hover somewhere in his mind, not allowing it to settle, because it is not done yet. They are not done yet. There is still work to be done.)

Damian is sure that Richard feels the same sorrow and regret, if not more than what Damian feels, about the fact that earth is as good as dead and that most of humanity is beyond saving. But even if Damian only registers the list as just names in a sea of millions of other names, he knows Richard must have known them dearly. 

Richard must have loved them, those names on the list. 

And so the grief and the sorrow and the guilt is much, much more personal for Richard, because these are the people whom he had asked for help, and they have died for helping him. 

Richard stays looking at the list for a long, long time, almost ignoring Timothy’s question on whether they are ready to go. The longer Richard’s eyes are transfixed at the list, the more worried Damian feels. 

Because what if Richard decides that he should stay here, with the rest of the dead? What if Richard decides that he should die here, like they did?

No. Damian had lost enough people today. Earth has lost enough people today. He is not going to allow the best of them to die too. 

Damian opens his mouth, ready to tell all that to Richard, when Richard finally closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. “Yeah, we're ready to go.”

Damian had just allowed his heart to settle from the fear that Richard is not going to come with them, when the alarm blares out. 

“What is that?” Richard asks, switching immediately to mission mode. 

“It’s them,” Stephanie says from where she’s watching the camera feeds. “They’re coming here, ‘Wing.”

“How long do we have?” Richard says. 

Stephanie looks at him, before shaking her head. “Probably a minute, two. Absolutely not more than three minutes, that’s for sure.”

Silence greets their little huddle, with everyone looking at each other. Damian locks eyes with Cassandra when Jason says, “Then we better get moving.”

“There’s not going to be enough time,” Richard replies. “You guys go, I’ll hold the fort.”

Damian’s heart drops. “Are you not coming?” he exclaims. 

Richard looks at him with those same kind eyes that had made Damian loosen his guard around this man, once upon a time. But there’s something else in those eyes. Something like hunger, like Richard is drinking in every detail of Damian’s face, memorizing them. 

Damian does not like that thought. 

“Not enough time, little D,” Richard says, bringing Damian into his embrace and pressing a quick kiss on Damian’s hair. He presses Damian closer to him for a while, before releasing him while saying, “Now you guys need to go.”

“No!” Damian objects, the moment those hands break contact with his shoulders. “You’re coming with us, Richard!”

“Dick,” Timothy says, voice as distraught as Damian feels. He doesn’t say anything, just their eldest brother’s name. Somehow, Damian still understands what Timothy means by that. 

He doesn’t want Richard to stay behind too. 

“Go,” Richard says, undeterred. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Jay, you’re in charge now.” 

Jason, standing silently behind Cassandra, doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Richard. The two of them share a second of eye contact before Jason nods, face solemn. 

Damian does not like this. Are they giving up, just like that? They’re supposed to be heroes; they’re supposed to stick together!

“Richard, you can’t be serious! We’re not leaving anyone behind, you taught me that!”

“Damian,” Richard bends down to look at his eyes, “little D. This is the one time where you do leave someone behind, okay?”

“No!” Damian cries out, but his objections remain unheard. He grabs Richard’s arm, trying to get him to come with them, but Richard just maneuvers around him, giving Timothy a quick one-armed hug, Cassandra a kiss on the cheek, Stephanie a squeeze on the shoulder, and Jason a soft smile. Then, he brings his other arm to pull Damian into another hug. 

The hug feels like it lasts for a thousand years and for a mere millisecond at once. 

“Be good, yeah?” Richard whispers into his ear, then releases his embrace. “Go,” he says, addressing everyone. “Take care of each other.” 

And then, he grabs his escrimas and his explosives and the rest of his gear. He turns around to face them one more time, before he walks out of the door. 

Damian’s feet, that were frozen during the entire exchange, unfreezes themselves and move towards the door, wanting to stop Richard from doing this, to drag him and make him come with them. But before he can get anywhere, leather-clad arms grab him and lift him up.

Jason’s voice greets his ears. “You’re not going anywhere, twerp.”

“Unhand me, Todd!” 

“No,” Jason says, voice not accepting any protests. “Now come on, time is wasting.” 

Jason simply repositions his hold on Damian and starts walking, getting several of the civilians still outside the ships to come in. He could have let Damian down, make him walk on his own, but he didn’t. He keeps Damian in his arms, as if Damian weighs nothing. 

Strangely, Damian doesn’t mind too much. The absurdity of the situation certainly distracts him from the reality that that was the last time he is ever going to see Richard. 

Richard stayed behind, in the end, even though it’s not because of the reasons Damian thought. His worst dream has come true. 

Damian buries his head on Jason’s shoulder, wishing he could pretend that it’s Richard. 

He can’t. 

He does it anyway.

***

Robin had done his duty. He had brought all the people from his earth to safety, seeking refuge in this universe’s iteration of the Justice League. 

He didn’t leave anyone behind. He will never leave anyone behind ever again. 

Robin had been a hero, or so they all say. 

That should have made him happy. That had been his goal, after all, a long, long time before, when he first put on the uniform and put the R on his chest. He had wanted to be the best Robin out of all of them, and so be the best hero. 

Right now, Damian doesn’t feel like a hero.

He feels like a failure.

Robin should have been able to persuade Richard to come with them. Robin should have been able to get Jason to escape with them. Robin should have known that Cassandra and Stephanie’s ship is going to get targeted. Robin should have made sure Timothy got out first. 

He doesn’t deserve the name Robin. 

“Robin?” a voice calls out to him. Damian looks up to meet a green domino mask. His heart does a little flip, expecting it to be this universe’s Robin. 

It isn’t. Of course it isn’t. When Damian had briefed this universe’s Justice League about the forces that decimated his earth, they informed him that Batman and everyone affiliated with him are currently unavailable. 

Damian doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. 

“It is Robin, right?” Green Arrow- who is still Connor Hawke in this universe- asks again. 

Damian wants to say no, wants to refuse the name forever, but he hasn’t actually said his name to this Justice League. He had just said he is Robin and left it at that. They haven’t asked for more information. 

Damian decides that he is relieved that Batman and everyone from the family is not here, because if they were here, they would definitely ask about his identity, question his parentage, demand to know how he became Robin, and make him tell them things he doesn’t want to tell them yet. 

He is quite happy to not tell them his name yet, thank you very much. It will lead to questions after questions after questions. He is, after all, from a version of their future. A horrible future, but a future nonetheless. 

“Yes,” Damian whispers hoarsely. 

“You’re not the Robin I know, are you?” Hawke asks again. 

A thought comes into Damian’s mind. The Robin that Hawke knows is Timothy, he knows that much from what his older brother told him. And that means that this universe’s Damian Wayne has not come into contact with his father yet. 

Maybe he never will. Maybe Damian Wayne doesn’t exist in this universe. 

Maybe that’s how it should be. It definitely would have saved his family a lot of pain. 

“No,” Damian answers, not volunteering any more information. 

“Okay.” Silence, then Hawke says again, “Do you have a place to stay for tonight?”

“I-” Damian begins, but before he can say anything else, a flash of electric blue catches his eye. His words immediately falter. 

It’s not Richard. Not his Richard, at least. This Richard has never given Damian the Robin uniform. This Richard has never spent countless hours staying up with Damian. This Richard has never loved Damian. 

Maybe it is better that way. 

“Robin?” Hawke calls again. “Are you alright?” 

“I... I’m fine, Green Arrow.” Damian swallows, trying to get his bearing again, but before he even comes close to it, a voice calls out. 

“So you’re the Robin from an alternate future.” 

Richard’s voice makes Damian lose any semblance of serenity he had left. It doesn’t matter that this is not his Richard. That voice is the same. 

The kindness is the same. The warmth is the same. The compassion is the same. 

Damian misses Richard. Why didn’t he drag Richard with him? Why didn’t he beg Richard to come with them? Why didn’t he offer to stay behind so that Richard can go? 

Why did he let Richard die for him? 

It should have been Richard here. Everything would have been better if it was Richard who was here and not Damian. Richard would have been better at comforting the survivors, at making them smile even despite everything. Richard would have been better at handling the entire situation with this universe’s Justice League. Richard would have been better at facing this universe’s version of their family. 

Richard would have been better. It should have been him here, alive.

It shouldn’t have been Damian. He doesn’t deserve it.

He abandoned his brother. He’s a failure. A mockery of the name Robin. An insult to everything his family tries to be. 

He doesn’t deserve to live. 

Damian realizes that he still hasn’t answered this Richard’s question. But he just smiles at him, waiting for his answer, exactly like how Damian’s Richard would. 

It makes the knife already stabbing Damian’s heart twist even further. 

“Yes,” Damian finally answers. “I am.”

“Have I known you yet?” Richard asks. 

“Can’t tell you,” Damian says, because he will not be the one who tells Richard about the series of events that lead to him being Batman and making Damian Robin.

It’s bad enough that he subjected his Richard to it. He will not do so to this one as well. 

(Damian knows now how much pain and suffering and anguish Richard felt during his time as Batman. Damian also knows now how much he added to that pain. He will not hurt this Richard like that. Never again.) 

“That’s a no, then.” Richard smiles at him. The sight makes Damian want to throw all caution to the wind and just curl up next to his big brother. To bask in the comfort that his big brother’s presence provides. 

But this is not his big brother. 

“I can’t tell you,” Damian says again, wishing that he can tell Richard everything, but knowing that every word that comes out of his mouth will bring him pain. 

Why wouldn’t it? Damian lives off the pain of others. Everyone who knows him suffers eventually. 

Dies eventually. 

He’s not going to let this Richard die too. 

“Okay,” Richard says, accepting his deflection just like that. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me yet. I’m just here to tell you that the Manor is always open for you, Robin.”

“You don’t know me,” Damian chokes out. 

“No,” Richard answers easily. “Not yet. But you’re Robin, and so you’re family.”

Damian closes his eyes and doesn’t dare do anything else. He knows that this Richard hasn’t known him, hasn’t learnt all his tells and habits, but it doesn’t matter. Richard will understand. Any version of Damian’s big brother will always understand him. 

Damian closes his eyes and tries not to let that sentence break him completely. 

“Thank you,” he eventually says. “But no thank you.” He’s not going to come to the Manor. He can’t. 

He is not going to let himself ruin another version of his family. 

Once is enough. 

Once is more than enough. 

Richard smiles at him with the same kind smile Damian’s Richard gave just before he left. Just before he died. 

Damian turns around and walks away, ignoring the perplexed Green Arrow and the confused Nightwing. It’s better this way. 

Damian is not going to make another version of his family suffer. 

***

They managed to leave, flying away from the compound just as it exploded, flames licking around the body of the ship. From where he is, Damian can see the compound turn to ashes, he can imagine the sound of the explosion, and he can almost feel the heat of the flames reaching his face. 

No one could have survived that. And even if they do, they are not going to survive living in the wasteland that Earth has become. 

Damian can feel the truth settling into his bones. Richard is gone, and he is never going to see him again. It makes his mind go slower, his lungs expand smaller, and his body falls apart. It makes him want to curl up and stop, not caring about anything else in the world.

He doesn’t get the chance to do that, because they are only barely out of Earth’s orbit when Jason, looking out of the windows of the ship, says, “Shit.” 

That does not bode well. Not at all. 

“What is it?” Damian asks, mind turning on again from the haze he was in. He is already dreading the answer. 

“They’re coming after us,” his older brother says. 

Damian’s heart drops. They are coming after them, and they are going to destroy them. 

After all, this is just a small evacuation ship. What chance would they have, against the same forces that destroyed the Justice League, that killed hundreds of other heroes, that decimated his earth? 

Against the same forces Richard gave his life and still failed to stop? 

Not a chance, and all of them knew it. 

“What are we going to do?” Timothy asks. 

Silence, for a while. All of them are waiting for Jason to speak. He’s the eldest now, --the reminder makes Damian’s heart clench--, and in charge, by Richard’s words. Even though none of them ever actually put any weight on that, still, they wait for him to speak. Somehow, the fact that there is still someone else to take charge, to make the impossible decisions, to take the weight of the world on their shoulders, makes Damian feel some semblance of relief. 

(Even if his heart breaks with the reminder that Richard is no longer with them. Because if Richard was here, he would be the one taking charge, not Jason.)

Finally, Jason speaks, voice heavy with the weight of hundreds of lives that are hanging on this decision, all that is left of their earth. “All of you are going to take these people in pods and get the hell out of here.” 

“And you?” Cassandra says. 

Jason looks at her, for once looking as young as his actual age. Damian has never seen him look that young before. 

Damian knows that legally, Jason Todd is only twenty-two years old. Somehow, it has never registered in his mind that that means the Red Hood is also only twenty-two years old, perhaps even younger, considering the time he spent dead. The Red Hood had always seemed to be an imposing figure, as old and as large a figure as he needed to be. 

But Jason Todd is only twenty-two years old, and it is Jason Todd looking out at them now, not the Red Hood. Jason Todd who is a terrified, distressed, absolutely petrified, twenty-two year old.

Surely, twenty-two years old is too young to be making decisions for the entirety of earth’s survivors? But no one else is here to take up the responsibility, and so the weight falls on Jason’s shoulders, no matter how young he is.

Damian wishes Richard is still here.  Richard would have shouldered the burden without even a second thought. 

(But he did, and that burden cost him his life.)

“I’ll stay in the ship,” Jason says, voice calm even as his face looks terrified. “Be bait. Throw them off our scent. Give you guys and the rest of them a chance to survive.”

“No,” Stephanie says. “You’re not doing that, Jason. We’re in this, and we’re in this together.”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Jason shouts, then belatedly realizes that everyone in the ship is now looking at him. He closes his mouth, gives a forced smile to the civilians surrounding them, and turns back to them. “What else are we supposed to do?” he hisses. 

That’s the problem, isn’t it? There is absolutely nothing else they could have done. Damian can’t force Jason to come with them, because their close escape from the compound didn’t leave them unscathed; their navigation system is fried and useless. Someone had to pilot the ship manually at all times, and so for this to work, someone would have to stay behind.

This is like the situation with Richard all over again. Someone staying behind to give the rest of them a chance to survive.

But maybe… Maybe Jason doesn’t have to do it alone. It’s what Richard would have done, had he been here. 

“I’m staying with you,” Damian says. 

“Like hell you are,” Jason exclaims immediately. “You’re going in there first.”

“What?” No, no, that couldn’t have been right. Why on earth would Jason want him to be in the rescue pods first? It doesn’t make sense. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that you’re going in that pod first if I have to throw you in there myself, Damian,” Jason says. Damian’s face must have looked absolutely confused, because Jason sighs, kneels down (kneels down!), and grabs his shoulders. “You know that’s what Dick would want.”

Damian frowns, mouth already open to protest, because how dare Jason bring up Richard, when Cassandra chimes in, “He’s right, little brother. You’re going in there first, and that’s not up for discussion.”

“What?”

“Dick would kill us if we let you stay here,” Timothy adds. That’s probably true, but Damian is not going to give up without a fight. 

He’s not going to let another member of his family die.  

“That’s what he would have done!” Damian says. And it’s true. That is what Richard would have done, if he is here. 

Damian had been angry at him for doing just that enough times to say that with conviction. 

“Yeah, little D,” Stephanie says, face perplexingly kind, the same kind of face she wears when comforting a victim. But Damian is not a victim. He knows what the consequences are, and he is making them with eyes wide open. “That’s what he would have done,” she continues. “But that’s not what he would have wanted for you.”

“I...” Damian starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. Mentally, he’s damning Stephanie for knowing exactly what to say. Damning Timothy for caring, now of all times he could have done that. Damning Cassandra for backing Jason up.

Damning Jason, because even if he will never admit it, Damian does not want him to die.

“Trust me, kid,” Jason says, giving Damian a rueful smile, “he would have said the same thing. Now get the pod ready, and get in.” 

“But-” Damian tries again

“No. I’m in charge, so you’re going to listen to me. Get going, Robin. That’s an order.”

“I-” Damian splutters, but Stephanie pulls him away from them and towards the pods, calling for the civilians to come with them. 

Damian glares at her, wanting to continue the argument, but he can’t, because despite it all, he’s still Robin, and Robin doesn’t argue with Batgirl about who is staying behind in front of all the scared, most likely traumatized civilians. 

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, though. 

As he walks, he sees Timothy give Jason a nod before going to the computers, taking two small devices from it, and he hears snippets of conversation between Cassandra and Jason. 

“I can… you don’t need to…”

“...done it already… shouldn’t let… fine…”

“…brother… proud..."

“...other side…”

He sees Cassandra rise up to her toes and plants a kiss on Jason’s cheek. Her own cheeks glimmer underneath the fluorescent lighting of the ship, bellying the fact that they are wet. Somehow, the sight makes Damian fight to keep a handle on his own tears. 

Damian knows death. Knows it intimately. Knows that it is inevitable. He couldn’t have survived the streets of Gotham, much less his childhood, without knowing that. 

But still, he clenches Stephanie’s hand, and whispers, “He’s not going to make it, is he?”

Stephanie clenches his hand back. “No, Damian,” she says, voice wet with the effort of holding back her own tears. “He’s not.”

***

Damian ends up in a small, one-bedroom apartment, one of many that this universe JLA provided for all the survivors of his earth. They are all, understandably, concerned about him living alone, but since he doesn’t want to stay with this universe Batman and he refuses the offer to stay with anyone else, they really do not have a choice. 

Besides, it’s temporary anyway. If Damian knows his Father, and he does, despite this being another version of him, he will not leave him alone for long. 

The League will not leave him alone for long. 

But they left him alone for now, in an apartment that feels larger than life, despite it not being actually that large, because he is alone. There is no Timothy to squabble with, no Cassandra to share his findings with, no Stephanie to tease, no Jason to argue with, no Richard to grumble to, no Father to annoy, and no Alfred to complain to. He is alone. 

He is well and truly alone.

Damian asked to be alone. He specifically asked the Justice League to leave him alone. He hides from this version of his family, not wanting to forget his own but at the very same time craving  the companionship that his family will give him. 

Even when this version of his family hasn’t known him. Even when they probably do not want to know him, not after they find out that Damian left their counterparts to die. 

He deserves to be alone. 

But right now, with the seemingly endless dark room, and the seemingly all-encompassing silence, Damian just wants someone to hold him. He closes his eyes, trying to fool himself that the room is dark and silent and lonely because he wishes it to be so and not because he is truly, really, absolutely alone. 

It doesn’t work. The darkness seems to stretch further and further. The silence seems to enter into every crevice of his body. 

Damian can’t take it anymore. Damian puts his hands on his ears, thumping them slightly to make a sound, any sound, to stave off the silence. He presses his eyes closed, forcing himself to see something other than darkness. 

Something. Anything. 

His mind complied. But the image it pulls up is the glimmer of tears on Cassandra’s cheek; it is Timothy’s clinical movement as he forces himself to move; it is the determined yet scared face of Jason, facing death for the second time, yet still keeping his head held up high and proud. 

The thumping stopped. But there’s something else. 

Voices, rough with the effort to hold back tears. Pleas, full with grief and misery. Reassurances, even when the one giving the reassurance is doubting themselves. Cries that come again and again and again.

Damian doesn’t remember the cries. 

Oh. 

It’s his cries. He is crying. 

The silence never seems as expansive as it did just then, with only the echoes of his own cries and the memories of the last words he ever heard his older brother say reaching his ears.

***

Jason didn’t make it. They watched the ship zoom past them as they were turning on the cloaking technology on their pods. They watched the forces that followed them out of earth follow Jason’s trail, leaving the two pods to travel to safety. 

Jason didn’t make it. 

Damian looks to Timothy, wondering what they are going to do now. Timothy looks back at him, probably also wondering the same thing. 

Then, their comms crackle and Cassandra’s voice comes out. “Tim? Damian? Do you copy?” 

Right. Cassandra is the eldest now. In the span of less than twenty-four hours, they have gone through two eldest siblings. 

Damian almost doesn’t want to believe it. 

“Yeah, Cass,” Timothy answers. “We copy.”

“Okay,” Cassandra says. “Everything alright on your end?”

“Yeah,” Timothy says, fiddling with the controller on the pods. “Cloaking is still going strong, fuel should last until we reach the Linsnar system, and the emergency transporter is on and ready to go. What about your end, Cass?”

“It’s the same here, Tim,” Stephanie answers. “Cloaking good, fuel good, and emergency transporter is good to go.” 

“Okay,” Timothy says. “Remember the emergency transporter is for absolute emergencies only, because I do not know where we would end up if we use it.”

“Copy that, Tim,” Stephanie says. “Just checking the coordinates one more time. We’re going to-” 

Stephanie’s voice is interrupted by a crash, loud enough to be heard even through the comms.. Damian and Tim look at each other before the two of them rush to the window, trying to see what is happening. 

“Steph!” Tim cries out. “Steph! Cass! Answer me!”

Static noise responds back, adding to the panic they are in. Then, from the darkness of space, where previously they could see nothing there, an explosion bursts through and they see Stephanie and Cassandra’s pod materializing before their eyes. They were hit, and their cloaking mechanism no longer worked. 

They were hit. 

How could they have been hit?

“I thought their cloaking is on, Timothy,” Damian breathes out, eyes transfixed to the glaringly obvious pod in the nothingness of space. 

“It is,” Timothy replies. “It must have been a random strike. A lucky strike. The cloaking tech is immaculate.” 

“What…” Damian is almost afraid to say it. “What's going to happen now?” he asks, eyes still frozen on the visible pod. 

But before Timothy can answer, something else happened. Damian is still looking out at Stephanie and Cassandra’s pod, and so that is why, when the beam hits, Damian is treated to a very clear, almost slow-motion view of their pod disintegrating. 

A scream reverbs inside his ears. Who is screaming?

Oh. It’s him.

Damian doesn’t even register the fact that he’s screaming, head still trying to process the fact that they are gone. They’re gone, disintegrated right before his very eyes. 

Stephanie and Cassandra are gone.

In the span of twenty-four hours, they have gone through four eldest siblings. Tim is the eldest now, if that word even carries any more meaning now that it’s just the two of them left.

It’s just the two of them left. It’s just Tim and Damian left. 

It’s just the two of them left.

***

Damian looks at the doors of the bus. He can do this. He's Robin. He can get inside a bus. 

But he's not Robin anymore, is he? 

No. He can do this. If he can't even step foot inside a bus, if he can't even do this absolutely mundane thing, then what was the point of it all? 

What was the point of everyone's sacrifices? 

Damian takes a deep breath, trying to force his feet to move, but before he can lift his foot, someone behind him calls, "Are you going in or not, kid?"

Damian turns around, apologies already on his lips, when he sees the long, flowing, blonde hair. 

He stops dead. 

It can’t be her, can it? She died in the explosion. She died with her best friend, his sister, by her side. 

Stephanie died by a chance shot, and Damian will never see her again. Not his Stephanie, anyway. Not the one who brought him to a bouncy castle, not the one who stole his ice cream, not the one who would tease him relentlessly. 

“Kid? Hey, kid. Are you okay?” the woman asks again. Damian looks at her, now. It’s not Stephanie. 

Not his Stephanie, and not this universe’s Stephanie either. 

Damian almost feels disappointed. 

“I…” Damian swallows and says, “Yes. I’m going in. Sorry for the delay.”

“It’s okay,” she says, smiling down at him. She doesn’t really look like Stephanie, but Damian sees Stephanie’s smile superimposed on top of hers anyway. “I have a little brother who does that zoning out thing all the time.” She shakes her head slightly, giving out a small laugh. “Where are you going?” 

“Gotham,” Damian blurts out, uncharacteristically honest, still out of balance from the memory of Stephanie’s smile. 

He knows that this universe's version of his Father is going to search for him, and he doesn't want him to come unannounced to his place. No. Better for him to go to Gotham first, to get the lay of the land first.

(Even though he really, really doesn't want to. But Batman searching for him is inevitable, and Damian is not in the habit of trying to deny the inevitable. 

Well. Not anymore.)

“Uff,” she says, “what are you doing in Gotham? There’s nothing good there.”

“Oi!” someone calls from somewhere behind the line. “You kids going in or not? We don’t have all day!”

“Yeah, yeah, cool your horses, man!” she replies, before turning to Damian and saying, “But he’s right. Come on, we need to get in.” She takes Damian’s hand and steps into the bus, pulling Damian with her. 

Damian could have fought her off. But he finds that he doesn’t want to. Maybe it's the memory of Stephanie from before, also doing the same thing to him, that stops him from resisting. 

Damian lets her grab his arm and pull him inside the bus. 

Two women, with a child between them. A burly man sitting next to a teenager. Someone in an ill-fitting suit. 

A wisp of black, shoulder-length hair, with eyes that seem to look into your soul. 

No. No, no, no. 

It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not his sister. 

Damian turns around, trying to stop himself from seeing Cassandra overlapping the girl sitting just seats away from him. It’s not his sister. It’s not the woman who would laugh without laughing, it’s not the woman who would look at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, it’s not the woman who would bop him in the nose whenever she feels like it. 

It’s not his sister. Damian will never see his sister again. 

He turns around, only to see the long, blonde hair he mistook for Stephanie’s earlier again. 

No. They are not here. They are not here. 

But they were, before. They were in a pod, and they were hit. 

What if this bus is hit too? 

“Kid?” the woman with the blonde hair asks him, concern in her voice. “Are you okay? You’re hyperventilating.”

Damian doesn’t even realize he’s hyperventilating until she tells him so. 

“I…” Damian tries, but he can’t get the words out. “I…,” he tries again, and fails again. 

Damian gasps in a breath, trying to get his lungs and his heart and his voice back in control. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, before running out of the bus. 

He can’t do it. 

Gotham will have to wait.

***

Timothy turns the transporter on, gesturing for the civilians to move, then turns around and says to Damian, “Get in.”

“What?! No!” Damian protests. “I’m staying here with you.” 

Timothy grabs Damian’s shoulders and says again, “Get in there, you little brat.” 

Damian flicks the hand on his shoulders away. It doesn’t move, in a surprising amount of strength from Timothy. He tries again, before moving tactics and says, “No! I’m staying here with you until all the civilians are out!”

“Damian, for once in your life, listen-” Timothy shakes him with the word “-to-” he shakes him again “-me. Get in.”

“No!” What kind of monster does Timothy think he is? He’s not going to just abandon the civilians still here, much less his brother. Because that’s what Timothy is, even with all of Damian’s protest otherwise. 

His brother. 

“Listen to me, you little twerp. I need someone on the other side to help the civilians already there.” 

“Then get someone else!” Damian protests. He’s not leaving. He’s not. 

“There is no one else, Damian. Get in there!” 

“Tim,” Damian says, calling his brother with the shortened, familiar version of his first name for the first time in the years since he’s known him, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going there together or not at all.”

Damian sees Tim take a deep breath before saying, in a voice that betrays his calm expression, “Damian.” The grip on Damian’s shoulder tightens even more. “You need to go. Please.”

“No! I-”

“Help the civilians,” Tim cuts in. “You’re Robin, remember? We took an oath to help them.”

Damn him. Damn him to the deepest parts of hell. Why did he have to remind Damian of that?

“Now fulfill that oath, Damian,” Tim continues, uncaring of Damian’s hate-filled glare. “Be Robin.” 

“I hate you,” Damian spits out, holding back tears. He knows exactly what Tim is doing. Why else would Tim insist on him getting in first? If he needs someone on the other side, he could have easily told Damian to hold down this end and climb in himself. 

He knows Tim is trying to spare him, trying to get him to live. But Damian can’t argue with the order to save the civilians. He can’t argue with the order to be Robin. 

So the only thing he does is spits out the same, tired sentence he has said to the man in front of him hundreds, if not thousands of times before, and hoping that his brother understands what he actually means. 

Tim bites his lips, mouth moving as if to say something, before abandoning it to put his hand on Damian’s head. “I know,” he says, eyes telling Damian that he understood exactly what Damian meant, and it’s not what Damian actually said. “Now go, little brother.”

Damian breathes out heavily, in an effort to keep the tears from going down. He nods and walks to the edge of the transporter, helping someone climb in. Then, he looks back and meets Tim’s eyes. 

He refuses to believe that this is the last time he will see Tim again. He has lost too much today. He refuses to lose Timothy on top of it. 

“You’re stepping into this transporter as soon as possible, do you hear me, Timothy?” Damian demands. 

“I promise,” Tim says, holding the eye contact. “Now go.” 

Damian searches Tim’s eyes, looking for any kind of deceit, but he doesn’t find any. Damian takes one last look at his brother, the only one left, and steps into the portal. 

He believes that Timothy will follow him, as soon as possible. The question is, will as soon as possible be enough? 

***

He eventually managed to go to Gotham. Or, more precisely, he eventually managed to go as far as Bristol, getting into the Manor's grounds. 

He sits on top of a tree that hasn’t grown his favourite branch yet, might never grow his favourite branch, and observes his, but not really his, family. 

It’s not his. They are not his family. 

But they look so, so much like them. 

Damian knows that this universe is several years behind his own, and he, theoretically, knows what that entails. Jason has not returned to Gotham yet, Richard is operating out in Bludhaven, Stephanie is still figuring out her place as a hero, Cassandra is still learning how to be a person instead of a weapon, Timothy is still Robin, and the only one besides Alfred who regularly goes to the Manor. 

But he really is not prepared to actually see it. 

He sits on the branch that is not his favorite and watches as Timothy does the drills that he would continue to do well after he stopped being Robin. Laps around the Manor, then several calisthenics routine, and then a few more laps around the Manor. Damian has watched him do this routine countless times. 

But never this young. Never as Robin. 

Damian watches Timothy’s red, panting face, and remembers the hands on his shoulders, pushing him towards the transporter. He watches Timothy’s mouth moving, and hears the words his brother spoke to him. 

Be Robin. 

How is he going to be Robin, when Timothy is still Robin here? He is redundant. 

Useless. 

From the Manor, Damian can see his father coming out to meet Timothy. No, not his Father. 

Bruce, then. 

Damian sees Bruce walk out to the grounds and feels himself retracting further into the shadows of the tree. He is not ready to meet them. He is not ready for them to see him. Managing to get to the Manor is enough for the day. 

When is he going to tell them? He can’t hide forever, can he?

Maybe he can. After all, Captain Marvel operated for many years without the League being the wiser. He could ask Billy Batson for advice. 

Damian sighs internally. Who is he kidding? The moment he gets into contact with Captain Marvel, his cover, if that is what this hiding can be called, will be  blown. He’s not going to get into contact with Captain Marvel. 

Beneath him and several feet to the right, Damian can feel Bruce and Timothy talking together, exchanging words and ideas. It is so very much like Damian’s first few encounters with them that he is transported back several years and many, many heartbreaks ago, when his Father basically ignored him in favor of Timothy. 

He hated Timothy then.

How much he wishes he could go back. 

Damian watches as Timothy walks into the Manor with Bruce, face clear and still strangely innocent. A very far cry from the Timothy Damian had met years ago. 

A very far cry than the Timothy who had told Damian to listen to him and leave. 

Damian had never listened to Timothy before. Why did he choose to listen to him then, at the worst possible moment?

He looks at Timothy’s face, clear of the worry his Timothy carried all the time from the moment Damian met him, and something clicks in his brain. 

Oh. That’s why he was spared.

He can spare them the pain. He can spare Timothy the grief of losing his best friends and his father, he can spare Stephanie the grief of dying and being brought back feeling wrong, he can spare Cassandra her abduction. 

Damian can spare Richard the pain and the grief and the burden of having to take care of him. 

He can spare this universe’s Damian Wayne from growing up to be like him. 

Damian waits until Timothy and Bruce have entered the Manor, and starts to climb down the tree. 

Be good, Richard had told him the very last time he saw him. Be Robin, Timothy had ordered him before he pushed Damian into the transporter. 

Take care of each other. 

Well, none of his family is left for Damian to take care of, so he will just have to take care of this universe’s Damian Wayne’s family. He can take care of this Damian Wayne. 

Damian feels the Wayne Manor grounds meets his feet and he walks away, careful not to trip any of the abundant alarms. He still has some time to plan, and he doesn’t want to just come up to the door and tell them about it all. 

He has to make sure they are ready. He has to make sure he is ready.

***

Damian stands in front of the Manor door, feeling a sense of deja-vu. He has done this before. He has stood in front of his father’s house, preparing himself to knock, oblivious to the reception that he would get the moment the door opens. 

This universe’s Damian Wayne will never know the feeling. If Damian knows his Father, and he does, even though this is not truly his Father, he will go and find this universe’s Damian Wayne as soon as he knows that he existed. 

That Damian Wayne would have been five, six years old. He would grow up to be a completely different person. 

He would grow up to be a better person. How could he not?

Damian knows that the moment he rings the doorbell for the Manor, everything will change. He could still go back. He could still turn around and pretend this never happened. There is no trace of him here. No alarms tripped, no footage of him, and no hint of him ever being here. 

He could go back to pretending he doesn’t exist. 

But he can’t do that. Not when everyone had given up their lives for him.

This is the reason he is alive when everyone else has died. So he can bring his knowledge to his family, and so he can make sure that this universe’s Damian Wayne will never become like him. 

That Damian Wayne will never do the Year of Blood. That Damian Wayne will never know the struggles of fighting his mother every year for a hint of his father’s identity. That Damian Wayne will grow up cared for and happy and loved. 

Damian is here to make sure that the Damian Wayne in this universe will never grow up to be like him. 

He takes a deep breath, and presses the doorbell. 

Alfred opens the door, much like Damian had predicted. Damian also knows that he has his shotgun within reach, as like his Alfred does everytime he opens the door for an unfamiliar face.

“Can I help you, young sir?” Alfred asks, voice as polite as ever, but still full of threats. 

Damian looks at him, at the face that he misses so but knows is not really the same. His lips turn up into a small smile, and he says, as evenly as possible, “My name is Damian Wayne. It’s good to see you, Alfred.” 

He knows he won’t get away with just saying that. He knows that there will be hours upon hours of explanations and answers demanded of him. He knows his father, and he knows his family. 

But it’s a start. 

It’s a start. 

[investigatingaj]

TASK ONE: ABOUT ADORA JANE AJ DARKE !

Character’s full name: Adora Jane Mary-Anna Darke Reason for name and/or meaning of name: Adora Jane is her first name... yes, both names. All of her names come from family except Adora, because her mother always loved that name and She-Ra. Jane comes from her paternal grandmother, Jane Darke and Mary-Anna is her maternal grandmother’s name. Character’s nickname: AJ, Little Darke (to a small few) Reason for nickname: Her parents have called her AJ since she was a kid, she’s always preferred it to her full name. Older people around town have taken to calling her Little Darke since she was a kid, because she looks like her mother and because she’s the youngest member of her family, naturally. Birth date: August 30, 2000

Physical appearance Faceclaim: Lili Reinhart Gender: Cis woman Height: 5′8 Build: Slim and relatively fit Eye color: Green Glasses or contacts?: No Distinguishing marks/scars: She has a couple of small, faint scars on her arms and legs, most of which her parents assumed were from her childhood as she had a tendency to scratch herself during her nightmares. She has a very faint collection of freckles on the bridge of her nose and at the tops of her cheeks. She also has quite a few beauty spots/freckles on her arms. Hair color: Blonde Type of hair: Long with a slight wave, has some layering to it and is mostly nice due to her mother taking her to get it done whenever she’s home. Hairstyle: Typically she wears it half up half down, though she’ll often do a low ponytail or just have it out too. Voice claim: Lili Reinhart but without her singing voice... AJ cannot sing at all. Physical disabilities: N/a Clothing style: Mostly can be found in pants, ranging from thick, coloured corduroys, to jeans, to suit pants and at times, even the occasional pair of overalls. She’s often not caught dead without her favourite leather jacket, passed down by her mother from the 90s and still in quite good condition. She loves to wear button up dress shirts, vests and blazers. She’s typically in something belted and high-waisted. She also frequently wears boots and sneakers most often. She’s at all times wearing a crucifix with a built in blade and caries a worn shoulder bag. AJ tends to favour shades of brown, grey, black and green. Make up: If she’s had a late night, she might put on some concealer. If she wants to look nice, she’ll add eyeliner and maybe a tinted lip balm.

Personality Good personality traits: Quick-witted, loyal, intelligent, resourceful, charming, adventurous, amicable, playful, broad-minded, brave, determined, imaginative. Bad personality traits: Headstrong, secretive, compulsive, impatient, resentful, manipulative. Mood character is most often in: Contemplative but hiding it, usually wearing a smile Sense of humor: AJ loves to be sarcastic, she loves wordy, stupid jokes, also doesn’t mind a good pun Articulation: She’s fairly well spoken and tries to always pick her words carefully, she was really into giving speeches in middle school after she finally got some confidence... she then realised how embarrassing that was Character’s greatest joy in life: Being with her friends, uncovering new information with them and putting it all together Character’s greatest fear: Not being able to help or protect her friends and somehow losing them to her own ignorance Character is most at ease when: In her element, researching or putting together the board in Scooby HQ Most ill at ease when: She’s stuck on one particular thing and can’t get past it. She’s not good at putting things down and moving on, ever. Enraged when: Someone hurts one of her friends or lies to her Depressed or sad when: Her mother leaves for another trip Priorities: Unravelling the supernatural shit in Bridgemead, her friends, her family Life philosophy: Almost nothing is impossible Greatest strength: Her determination and strength even when things feel so much bigger than her Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Her tendency to push down and hide her emotions

Goals Drives and motivations: The search for knowledge, being able to keep herself and others safe Immediate goals: Solving each mystery/helping each person as they come along Long term goals: Becoming a fixture in her town, being appreciated beyond her circle

Childhood Hometown: Bridgemead, MA Type of childhood: From the ages of about 4-8, AJ was plagued by nightmares that seemed so incredibly vivid that they made her a very anxious, exhausted and grumpy little girl. Her parents tried to give time and energy to helping her, after it became clear that ignoring the problem wouldn’t help. Professional help is what they swore saved them all. Despite some of the more horrible stuff in her childhood, her parents did their best with her even if they weren’t really the most affectionate or naturally empathetic people. They never took her fears seriously, though. She formed a much closer bond with her mother, clinging to her even more when she started travelling again. She gained a lot of independence as she got older and when her parents noticed it, it gave them the confidence to let her do as she pleased, but it also let them pull back a little as parents, guilt free. Pets: Her dad is allergic to both cats and dogs, so they had a particularly large tropical fish tank instead. AJ didn’t name them because she liked calling them their scientific names instead and she liked watching them. Most important childhood memory: The first time her mother took her to the lookout tower 40 mins out of Bridgemead. It was towards the end of her struggle with the nightmares and she was feeling exhausted and sad, so her mother told her to get on her snow gear and took her out to look at nature as the sun went down. It was beautiful and probably one of her nicest memories from this time. Dream job: Private detective, but maybe the supernatural kind Religion: Her parents raised her as Christian, technically, but they never went to Church

Present Current location: Bridgemead, MA Currently living with: Still with her parents in North Bridgemead Pets: None, she wants a dog Religion: Athiest Sexuality: Not straight, but unsure Politics: Very left learning, always votes but struggles to stay up to date with everything Occupation/education: Graduated from high school, currently an assistant for her aunt, Delia Darke Mode of transportation: Baby blue Mustang Convertible, passed down from her grandmother, the family has paid to keep it in good condition

Family Parent one: Harrison Darke, doctor at Bridgemead General Hospital Relationship with them: Though AJ and her father are always in the same house, they kind of end up being two ships passing in the night, for the most part. He’s a workaholic and so is she, in a sense, though if he ever heard what she actually did outside of working for Delia, he’d be pissed. The two of them barely speak and their relationship only worsened when AJ came home unexpectedly early one day after a Scooby Gang and found her father with another woman in his study. He asked her not to tell her mother, so she asked for cash. He’s been paying her monthly ever since. Parent two: Clara Darke, travel writer Relationship with them: AJ’s mother is quite the flighty type, she hates staying in one place too long and is a social butterfly intensified by a hundred. She loves her job and sometimes spends months out of the country. She’s a little famous for her writing if you’re interested in travel. She tried a little harder to be a good mother when AJ was younger and they have a good bond when she’s around, but it’s mostly because AJ never wants to be ruining her moments with her by getting upset/complaining. They only really talk about superficial stuff, nothing deep and while she feels bad not telling her about her dad, she tells herself there’s no reason to ruin everything. Siblings: N/A Relationship with them: N/A Other important family members: Cordelia ‘Delia’ Darke, great aunt and her father’s aunt... often referred to as just ‘aunt Delia’

Favorites Color: Dark green Music: Moody 90s indie and rock music, she loves Fiona Apple and Hole Food: Steak Film: Heathers or Hellraiser Drink: Screwdriver, probably Form of entertainment: Does research count? She likes true crime documentaries and podcasts, too. Most prized possession: Her car

Habits Hobbies: Very early morning runs, research, puzzle games, sketching, journaling Plays a musical instrument? Only a little bit of acoustic guitar Plays a sport? She used to run track in high school, but that’s it How he/she would spend a rainy day: Probably cooped up in the library or her bedroom with several books in front of her, music playing, a scented candle lit and coffee. Spending habits: She tries to save as much as she can, despite the money coming in from two sources now, it’s not actually that much. She doesn’t splurge, mostly because she also doesn’t need to let anyone know about the whole blackmail thing. Smoking/drinking/drugs?: She drinks occasionally, if everyone else is doing it. Smoked once at sixteen, never again. Extremely skilled at: Research, gently manipulating people/getting what she wants, keeping secrets/hiding what she’s thinking, talking to people, thinking outside the box. Extremely unskilled at: Opening up to others, being sensitive enough to not choose the logical option, getting eight hours or sleep, patience. Nervous tics: Her stare typically intensifies in annoyance/anger when she’s nervous. Usual body posture: She has pretty good posture, always walks with her shoulders back and her head high. Mannerisms: She tends to get lost in thought, noticing things when maybe she should be listening. She folds her arms over her chest a lot or scratches the back of her neck when she needs to think quickly and feel stressed. Peculiarities: She sometimes won’t allow herself to do certain things until other tasks are done. Like, if they order pizza, she can’t have a slice until she finishes a task.

Traits Optimist or pessimist? Somewhere in the middle Introvert or extrovert? Daredevil or cautious? Depends on the situation, she leans towards cautious Logical or emotional? Leader or follower? Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? There’s method to her mess, okay? Prefers working or relaxing? Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Animal lover? She thinks they’re okay

Self-perception How do they feels about themselves?: AJ is confident in herself because she knows her abilities and thinks she’s capable of a lot... but she also knows that she’s not really a good person, even if she justifies the things she does for the sake of the group or someone’s wellbeing. One word the character would use to describe themselves: Strong What does the character consider their best trait?: Her quick wit What does the character consider their worst trait?: Her inability to let things go What does the character consider their best physical characteristic?: Her legs What does the character consider their worst physical characteristic?: She never bought into the whole women hating their bodies thing, but she wishes she had more muscle definition How does the character think others perceive them?: She thinks people see her as strange, charming and determined. What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: She’d like to be stronger.

Relationships with others Opinion of other people in general: She thinks most people are blissfully clueless, but she doesn’t hate them for it. Opinion of the Scooby Gang: She’s protective of every member. She thinks they all have something to offer, but she also cares about them and considers all of them her friends. Does the character hide their true opinions and emotions from others? Absolutely, she’s not into sharing things unless they need to be shared. Most important person in character’s life: She would hate to answer this question. She’d say her aunt or her mother or even Arabella, but maybe it’s... herself? Best friend/s: Arabella Byrne, Dylan Frye and Kody Pierce. Dating experience: Literally none. AJ doesn’t date and claims loudly that she’d never want to date. One time a guy tried to ask her to a dance in middle school and she got so freaked out that she kicked him in the balls and ran away. That being said, her first kiss has happened and it was Arabella, but that’s not really a romantic thing. It was just the only person she trusted enough to do that with at the time and they were quite young. Romancing: First of all, AJ would probably bury those feelings so hard and avoid them so she’d never even go about romancing anyone. If she were really trying, or at least subtly trying, though, she might just do little extra things for them, leave them small gifts. It would be subtle. She has no active interest in dating.

Extra Physicality: AJ keeps relatively fit, but she doesn’t have fighting skills outside of self-defence just yet. She’d like to learn some. She also has started occasionally lifting weights to build up muscle. Species: Human How do they feel about it?: Part of her always feels a little uneasy because of how vulnerable she is, but she’s not sure she’d be lining up to be anything else just yet.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Nothing’s Normal | Cliff Steele x Reader (Request)

Request:  Hi can you do a imagine where the reader is the daughter of Bruce wayne and a meta and in a relationship with cliff Steele please and thank you

A/N: @rachelcarroll1819 Sorry it took me a while to get to this request because life and I keep forgetting to post it, so here it is. I know it’s supposed to be a simple imagine, but I got carried away because I love writing the dynamics between the Doom Patrol members. I hope this is what you asked for.

Warning: Doom Patrol-typical swearing, usual Doom Patrol shenanigans, some angst?, some fluff

Words: 3211 (lol idk what happened)

-

It had been almost a year since your adoptive father, Bruce Wayne, had sent you to regularly check up on Vic and the others at Doom Manor. He was made aware of this new team of metahumans through the young Cyborg and as Batman’s assistant, you were assigned to keep tabs on all of the Justice League members in case of emergencies.

One rule that he made sure you understood was that you’d go when Niles Caulder wasn’t around. You heard about that doctor and his work with the Bureau of Normalcy. Your father heard about them during one of his investigations into a series of missing persons cases, all showing signs of possessing some kind of power. Being aware of your own powers, you agreed with your father to stay away. That doesn’t mean you had to stay away with the Doom Patrol members, though.

You wiped your forehead as you finished fixing up their black painted bus. The team currently had the budget of a public high school in an expensive city, so there wasn’t much good material to work with, so you made as much adjustments as you could while giving room for some upgrades.

“Not exactly the Magic School Bus,” Cliff said, handing you a cloth to wipe your hands with.

“Well, Vic could always get some of that good juicy tech stuff from home so we could turn it into the Magic School Bus,” you said, raising an eyebrow at Cyborg.

Vic shrugged, stepping back to look at the small bus. “I think it looks fine. Maybe you could actually do more if you take off those gloves.”

You purse your lips and say nothing. He still doesn’t know the reason why you wore those gloves and you try your best to keep like that for as long as you could.

Rita walked over with Larry, placing her hands on her hips and sighed. “Are we looking at the same thing? It looks so dreary and… and… shabby,” she said.

“Hey, what’s wrong with my paint job, man?” Jane snapped.

Rita ignored her. “No one’s going to take us seriously as an actual superhero team.”

“No one takes us seriously anyways,” Larry pointed out.

“Yeah, but think of what (Y/n) could do with that cool tech, Vic,” Cliff exclaimed, grabbing Vic’s shoulder, “She worked on the fuckin’ Batmobile! I think after saving two towns and the world from the apocalypse, we deserve a Doom Mobile.”

Vic was slowly being swayed, agreeing that the team should have some kind of advanced mode of transportation instead of relying on Flit to emerge and teleport them to their destination. Vic rubbed his chin, then nodded.

“Yeah, I could try and-” He looked up to address you and Cliff when he realized that the two of you vanished, “Where did they go?”

They all shrugged.

“It’s not like they can fuck,” Jane said bluntly.

“Jane,” Rita scolded her. Jane rolled her eyes and made her way back to the manor. Rita looked over at Larry who shrugged.

“As long as they’re not getting into trouble, it’s none of our business,” he said before walking to his greenhouse.

Rita pouted, standing with only Vic to talk to. “I just want to know what my dear friends are up to, don’t you? Cliff seemed so… happy lately, hasn’t he?”

Vic nodded. “Yeah… you don’t think that Cliff… and… (Y/n)?” He frowned just thinking about it. How would that work?

Rita hummed. “Maybe we should… check if everything’s okay,” she said lamely.

“Yeah, maybe,” Vic said, getting curious. He knew you ever since he joined the Justice League and you didn’t seem the type to be in a relationship. Surely, you and Cliff were just friends.

-

“You think we could get the bus to go that fast?” you asked Cliff, nodding over to the TV in the corner of the Robotman’s room, playing a recording of an old NASCAR race. You leaned over the sketches of upgrades you’ve been meaning to add once you get the right tools and materials, your gloves tossed to the side.

“I mean the air resistance will be something that we have to compensate for,” Cliff said, “Race cars are slim as fuck, which is why they can flip the fuck out when we crash into each other.”

You wrote some notes down, then looked up at Cliff. “Why did you choose to be a racecar driver?”

Cliff shrugged. “I liked driving. I liked the rush. I liked the crowd. And I was really fuckin’ good at it, so I liked the winning, too.”

“At least you didn’t become an actor,” you teased, “Though you’d surely win a Raspberry award.”

“Hey!”

Cliff reached out to grab you on your sides. You shrieked, feeling the tips of his metal fingers nearing the most ticklish part of your body before you ran away. He chased you around the room, making you laugh as he bumped into the furniture when you’d dodge.

You ran out of breath from running and laughing too much, pausing for a moment, giving Cliff enough time to grab you. You huffed a laugh, gripping his metal arms and relishing in the cold touch as he carried you over to the couch and plopped you down.

Cliff was one of the very few people that you could touch without any gloves or clothing in the way. It wasn’t like skin, but at least you didn’t have to worry about your powers affecting him.

He looked down at you and sighed before sitting down. He held your hands and ran a metal thumb over them, having similar thoughts running through his head.

“I wish I could fuckin’ feel this,” he muttered, “You deserve someone who’s normal. Someone that can feel your skin, feel how soft your hair is, be able to kiss you, pop a fuckin’ boner. When you hug me, it’s just all bulky metal for you, and I can’t even feel how warm you are.”

You leaned against him and also sighed. “I could… I heard they’re developing these synths, they call it. Robots that look like humans with realistic hair, skin, everything. I could try and maybe look into it, if you want. If you’re comfortable with it,” you offered.

“What if it doesn’t work? Then you’re stuck with this,” Cliff gestured to his body.

You shook your head. “I just want you to be happy and I know how hard it is to not be able to touch anything. We can keep trying to find other ways, Cliff.”

“Even if I had my human body, just me, I still think you deserve better. I… I was a horrible person. I was a bad husband and a bad father. I’m learning from that and I feel myself getting better, but what if I relapse?”

There were so many things you wanted to tell him, that him having his human body back won’t change the fact that you still won’t be able to touch him, but you knew how hard it was for him to come to terms that all those human traits he had were gone. Everything except his brain.

“Your friends and I won’t let that happen to you,” you said firmly.

You ended up sleeping on Cliff’s lap after talking for a couple more hours. He carefully ran his metal fingers through your hair, mentally cursing when your hair almost got stuck in one of the joints. He slowly lifted you up and carried you over to one of the guest rooms next to his, setting you down on the bed and covered you with the duvet. He had the urge to kiss your forehead, but knew he couldn’t. When he turned to leave, Rita and Vic were standing there with knowing smirks. Cliff wanted to roll his eyes as he pushed past them.

-

“How long are you going to be gone this time?” Cliff whined as you packed up your duffel bag.

“Not sure,” you said, “but they said it was urgent, so Vic and I are both needed.”

“Can’t we come with you, go sightseeing around Gotham?” he asked, following you out of the room.

You snorted. “Not much to see around Gotham, unless you’re looking for criminal activities and corrupted cops.”

“Yeah, and Batman.”

“And dangerous criminals.”

“We defeated Mr. Nobody! We stopped the apocalypse!”

You sighed, stopping at the manor’s entrance. “Cliff, maybe next time. Right now I have to focus on the mission.”

“You ready?” Vic called out from the small plane that your father sent you.

You nodded, picking up your duffel bag. “I’ll call you,” you assured him.

Cliff nodded, his shoulders slumping. You beckoned for him to lean down and you pressed your forehead against his metal head, closing your eyes for a brief moment before pulling away. The chauffeur grabbed the bag from you as you climbed into the plane.

“So… why Cliff Steele?” Vic suddenly asked.

“How-”

“Rita and I saw you two.”

You leaned back in your seat and shrugged. “He makes me laugh.”

Vic nodded. “Fair enough, I guess.”

The two of you fell in silence for a moment. You picked at your gloves, before looking up at Vic. “But please don’t mention this to anyone, at all,” you pleaded, “No one has to know.”

“Alright, no problem, (Y/n/n).”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the flight was silent, with the both of you trying to get in touch with your respective fathers. Your father was reluctant to bring you into the mission, but your expertise and powers were needed for them to solve their investigation. You hated your powers and your father knew it, which is why he tried his best to avoid the situation from reaching that point, leaving you as the last resort.

“Half an hour until landing, miss Wayne,” one of the pilots announced.

“Thank you,” you called out, grabbing your duffel bag to change in the bathroom.

-

Cliff played with his mini racetrack for the hundredth time after standing around outside watching Jane paint and hanging around Larry in his greenhouse to understand why he loved watering plants so much. He tossed the remote control onto the couch and sighed. What is it that you do that you were needed on the mission? Every time he asked, you would shrug it off and say that you were a glorified secretary for the Justice League. Do they need paperwork to be filled out or some shit?

“And why are you telling me this?” Rita sighed as she brushed her hair in front of her large mirror, Cliff sitting on the floor behind her after unloading his thoughts onto her.

“You were the one that wanted to know about our relationship!” Cliff shouted.

“Okay, okay. Calm down, Cliff.” She set her brush down and turned in her seat. “So what is it that you want?”

“Uhhh.” Cliff tilted his head. “I feel like she’s hiding something from me.”

“Did you ask her?”

“What the fuck is she going to say? Yes, Cliff, I am hiding something from you. What is she going to say next, it was for my own good?”

“Cliff, we’ve known (Y/n) for a year. She doesn’t owe us everything about her life. I’m sure she has her reasons. She works for the Justice League for crying out loud. There’s a level of secrecy that she must have to keep as part of the job.”

Cliff groaned. “So we just wait, then?”

Rita gave a firm nod. “We will just wait.”

They sat there in silence. Cliff blinked, staring at the ceiling, then back at Rita. She shifted around in her seat, then cleared her throat.

“I never thought I’d be… itching to go and save the world,” she began, “I wonder what it’s like for the Justice League.”

“Don’t they usually battle some otherworldly being or each other?”

“I know, but I’m sure there was never a time where they were… self-conscious about going out there. They don’t have powers like we do, if you could call it that, where even the slightest of our emotions changing would affect us badly.”

Cliff waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m sure it’s the same for them, just in fancy costumes.”

Rita sighed, then nodded in resolution. “You know, Cliff, you’re right. Maybe we could-”

“Who the fuck are you?!” They suddenly heard Jane shout, followed by a loud crash.

“Where’s Niles Caulder?” A deep male voice bellowed.

Cliff and Rita exchanged a look before rushing out of the room towards the entrance. Rita’s eyes widened as she saw Batman storming through the door, pushing past Hammerhead, with (Y/n) trying to stop your father while Superman was trying to calm Hammerhead down.

“What the hell is going on here?” Larry jogged over as Vic rushed in towards the group. “Vic, what’s going on?”

Vic let out a frustrated sigh, glancing back at Batman, before turning back to his friends. “Our mission uncovered some things linked to Niles and not in a nice way,” he said, not sure how much of the classified mission he was allowed to share with the people who were also victims and complicated friends of said Niles Caulder.

“And why are they here?” Rita pressed.

“Let go of me, you fuckin’ Ken doll in stupid ugly overcompensating tights!” Hammerhead growled as Superman wrapped his arms around her, preventing her from pouncing on him or Batman.

“Where’s Niles Caulder?” Batman demanded, glaring at the group.

Larry looked at the others, not sure what to say. Rita shook her head while Cliff nodded. (Y/n) stood in front of him and growled in frustration.

“Not until you calm down!” you snapped.

“He did this to you,” your father hissed.

“He did it to all of us,” you said, gesturing to the group, “With reason. There’s no excusing the shit he did, but you have to hear everything out before you carry out your justice. You've taught me this before. Now. Sit. Down.”

He clenched his jaw, looking back at Superman, who disappeared. “Where did they go?”

They heard an explosion from the front yard, followed by Superman’s voice. You all looked at each other and groaned, “Oh, no.”

Cliff was the first one out the door, already approaching Flaming Katy. You rushed forward, but Vic held you back.

“Cliff’s done this before,” Larry assured you.

“Come on, Jane. They’re not worth it. Think about it, they’re here for Niles. Think they’d smack him around, just a little, after what he’s done?” Cliff called out to the flaming figure. “Baby Doll, I can make those peanut butter jelly sandwiches you like, without the crust and everything. I’ll even watch those shitty nineties rom-coms with you, Karen.”

The figure slowly lowered, the flames gradually extinguishing until Jane emerged again. She glared at Superman, then at Cliff.

“Fuckin’ prick,” Jane muttered, not aiming it to anyone in particular,  stomping back into the manor.

Cliff turned back to the others and gave a thumbs up. You sighed in relief, urging everyone to go back inside. As they filed back into the large living room, you lingered by the door until you and Cliff were the only ones in the parlor.

“Sorry about this,” you muttered.

Cliff shrugged. “Meh, I was actually talking about you anyways.” You raised an eyebrow, silently asking about what. Cliff shrugged again. “I just missed you.”

You gave a small smile. “I missed you, too.” You took off one glove and pressed your hand against his metal arm, letting the coolness seep into your skin.

You opened your mouth to speak, when you heard a familiar coughing. You pulled away, your cheeks heating up. Your father narrowed his eyes at Cliff before jerking his head over to the living room where everyone was sitting. You pressed your lips into a thin line and followed him in, Cliff trailing behind you.

Once everyone was seated, Rita cleared her throat. “So, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” she said, taking charge in leading the conversation. “So, what was it that caused you to seek Niles Caulder out?”

Your father was still fuming in his seat, so Clark decided to speak. “We were following a trail of missing persons cases and stumbled upon an underground facility. The missing persons were subjected to countless experiments and many didn’t make it. From the files we found in their database, it was all initially headed by a Doctor Niles Caulder. The first few experiments had actually been cancelled, but a team continued to do so without his knowledge,” he said.

Everyone stared at him, entranced by his handsome face and his smooth voice. Clark looked around and frowned, wondering why they were looking at him weird.

“I’m sorry I tried to punch your sharp jaw,” Jane muttered.

“You would have been cut from it,” Larry told her.

Rita waved a hand to dismiss them. “You,” she pointed at your father, “Batman...  person, you said that Niles did this to (Y/n)? Our (Y/n)?”

You sighed. “I was a part of the initial trials until my- until Batman saved me,” you said.

“What did they do to you?” Larry asked.

You hesitated, looking around the room. You spotted a dying flower, a plant that Larry had given Cliff to practice taking care of. You carried it over and set the small pot on the coffee table. Your palms were sweaty as they hovered over the wilting petals before you slowly lowered your finger. With a single touch on a petal, the flower was slowly revived, all color flooding back to its vibrant petals.

“That’s pretty cool,” Cliff said.

You shook your head, touching the petal again. The life from the flower slowly drained away until it was curled up and dry.

“Oh.”

“I can bring a living being back to life with a single touch, but… touch them again and they’re dead. Forever,” you said. “I wasn’t sure how long I’ve been in that lab. Some of the early records were gone by the time I was rescued, but if the aim is similar to what he’s done to all of you… I may be older than I look.”

“Well, I’m glad that our age difference isn’t weird anymore,” Cliff commented. You gave him an exasperated look until you remembered that you were sitting next to your father, making you freeze. The rest of the Doom Patrol members turned to Cliff and glared at him. “What? You guys were dying to know, and now that we’re talking about it… I’m just saying, people should stop thinking our relationship is extremely weird-”

“You’re still a robot, Cliff,” Larry reminded.

“So this is Cliff?” Clark asked you, ignoring the bickering.

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Wait, you knew?” Your father turned to Clark. You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Well, it came up in a conversation…,” Clark tried to defend.

“Don’t you think I have the right to know who my daughter’s involved with?” Your father hissed.

“Wait a fuckin’ minute!” Cliff said, looking at you, then back at Batman, who was still in costume, then back at you. “What the fuck? Daughter? (Y/n)... What the fuck?”

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: The married life of a violent Viking and a meek nun.

Part One

Part Two

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent 

Part One 

Part Two

It had been two years since Ivar had decided to keep you.

Gone were your days of doing chores in the church, and enjoying your fellow sisters. Now you were in a foreign cold country surrounded by complete strangers that followed a religion you wanted nothing to do with.

If the physical displacement wasn’t hard enough to adjust to you also had to come to terms with the fact you were now married to a very violent heathen.

At first you had tried to be optimistic; you would still have your religion and faith, your beloved kingdom was safe and maybe you could even learn a few things about these pagans. Those had been your hopes but they were foolish and downright naive.

Even before you had set foot on the boat Ivar made sure you knew that he wouldn’t tolerate your faith at all. He threw your cross into a fire and would scold you like a child no matter who was present. 

Ivar had also made it clear that he was in charge, he planned the wedding and did not ask your opinion on a single thing. He told you what would happen and what you were expected to say and do and that was the end of it. What a nightmare your wedding was, your dress wasn’t modest in any sense and blood from a lamb was poured on you.

Your wedding night had been even worse.

Despite how you had tried to explain that you were a woman of the church, in other words a virgin, he did not care at all. He was rough and completely ignored your protests and cries.

All of that horror had happened after he and his brothers had killed King Ecbert and before you had even arrived in his kingdom, Kattegat.

Once you arrived Ivar lead you to his estate and assigned you a servant who would teach you his language and the stories of his Gods. He forbid you from leaving his home until you were able to speak Norse fluently.

In your time of learning Ivar wasn’t exactly patient with you, he would often call you stupid for taking so long to learn. Ivar didn’t care who was around when he would berate your intelligence; be it his brothers, visiting Earls and Jarls or even just the thralls who kept the house.

When you finally were able to leave home to carry out the wifely duties that Ivar had placed on you the whole of Kattegat was already aware of how you were treated. You almost hated the looks of pity more than the looks of smugness from people who thought you deserved the abuse because of your faith.

Ivar was truly horrible, you sometimes thought his name should have been Ivar the Horrible, not Boneless.

If all Ivar was to you was abusive it would have been easier, then you would know exactly what to expect with him, but Ivar was not an easy person to understand.

He would humiliate and verbally abuse you all day, then at night he would climb on top of you and have his way with your body, but after he was something else.

After he had satisfied his primal needs he would lie beside your bruised body and speak to you in a soft voice about his mother and how she had always wanted to see all her sons find wives. 

The first few times he had done this you were touched and you thought maybe he wasn’t the monster he appeared to be, but it didn’t take him long to sour that as well. When he would catch you praying he would speak on how his beautiful mother would have hated having you as a daughter in law.

He would say that so much that at some point it stopped hurting, then one day you looked up and you found that you were now accustomed to this horrid life that you lived.

You would wake up alone, be dressed by thralls and then walk into the dining hall to have first meal with Ivar where you would refrain from praying over your food, then Ivar would go off on his business and you would run the household. After the last meal you would retire to your bed chamber then sometime later a drunk Ivar would come in to mount you then whisper his soft words until he fell asleep.

Everyday it was the same, walking on eggshells trying not to provoke your husband’s anger and taking whatever abuse he had to offer that day.

There were times, when you would sit outside and sew, you would think about just walking to the docks and climbing onto a boat but you knew you never could. Ivar would take it as a great offense and would take his anger out on your kingdom.

So you stayed.

Now you are in the great hall at the high table with your husband, brothers in law and their wives.

Tonight there was to be a sacrifice to pray that the harvest be rich this spring, and your stomach was far too uneasy to eat.

Ivar was having none of it.

‘Why do you not eat? Do you want people to say I do not feed you?’ he hissed.

‘I am simply not hungry, my husband.’ you mumbled.

‘Eat, you are making me appear to be a cruel husband.’ he said angrily.

Not that Ivar noticed, but the cheerful atmosphere of the entire high table was immediately altered by the tone he used with his wife.

None of them agreed with the way he treated you, but any attempts they made to speak to him ended with him being even angrier with you for days on end because you made people think ill of him.

‘I am sorry.’ you said softly as you picked up a piece of bread and took a small piece.

Ivar went back to his drink and found that everyone was staring at him in distaste, and like always it angered him.

‘Good. Now the night has been soured before the sacrifice.’ he snarled.

You again apologized for spoiling the mood and offered to retire so that he and his family could enjoy the feast and festivities, you had no desire to see the sacrifice any how.

‘No you will stay and watch the sacrifice, do you not want us to have a rich harvest? Does your Christ God say that we should starve this year?’

‘Of course not, but if my presence is spoiling your mood then I will leave if you wish it.’ you tried to placate him.

‘What kind of husband doesn’t want his wife by his side? You will sit here, you will eat and enjoy the sacrifice. Am I understood?’ he threatened.

‘Yes.’ you submitted as you lowered your head.

The rest of the family turned back to their own conversations, except Ubbe.

He was more like his father than the rest of his brothers in the sense that he didn’t hate the Christians. Ubbe saw no point in being overly violent with the Christians when they went out on raids or even with the Christian thralls at his own estate. He really didn’t like how horrid his younger brother treated you at all, but he saw trying to tell Ivar this only made him worse.

Even he as the eldest couldn’t tell another free man how to treat his wife.

For the next hour or so you nibbled at your plate and tried to be as invisible as you could, speaking to no one, not even raising your head to look around the hall.

At last Bjorn stood and announced that it was time to step out into the courtyard for the sacrifice to take place. 

Everyone else hurried out but you had to wait by Ivar as he stood up on his braces and crutches, he was still getting used to them. You were genuinely happy when he first showed you his new mode of transportation, but in the end it too made your husband irritable. The pain of the metal braces would make Ivar complain, and any offer you made to help made him think you saw him as weak.

Once Ivar was on his feet you followed behind him as he made his way to the front of the crowd, he wanted to be sure that he, and you, got a good view.

You took a small comfort in the fact that no Chiristians were ever sacrificed to the pagan Gods, the heathens felt their Gods would be insulted by having a non-believer sacrificed to them.

Still you hated the human sacrifices, no matter how many of them you had seen you still didn’t like to see another human die.

This time it was a man, you had seen him around town buying things for his family. You didn’t know him but that didn’t make watching him die any less horrible.

Bjorn gave the usual speech, asking the Gods for their favor, then he raised his ax and with one swift swing he ended a life.

You tried not to flinch at the sound of it but you couldn’t help it, you didn’t need to look over to know that Ivar was smiling. You kept your eyes closed as the crowd cheered in celebration, and felt Ivar move toward the blood bowl and took a sip like always and dipped his fingers in before he walked over to you.

‘May the blood of this sacrifice allow you to bear fruit as well wife.’ he said before flinging the blood onto your face.

You felt sick to your stomach and wanted nothing more than to wipe off the human blood and just go to bed and leave this day in the past.

‘If I may retire to the estate my husband, I do not feel too well.’ you requested.

Ivar rolled his eyes in annoyance but eventually he nodded and dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

You hurried off away from the festivities waiting until you were sure you were out of sight completely to wipe the blood off your skin.

As you walked you strayed from the trail back to your estate and into the woods, you had found a small clearing not long after you had began to explore your new home. It was in the spot perfectly between Ivar’s lands and Ubbe’s so none of the thralls Ivar had spying on you traveled out this far.

You used this space to pray whenever you could get away from your husband.

Like usual you kneeled at a tree stump and brought your hands together for prayer.

‘Dear Father, how I have missed speaking to you like this. I wish I could pray to you everyday as I once did, but my husband will not allow it, even now I disobey him to speak with you.’ you started.

‘My Lord, everyday I find it harder to live on this earth with that man and I ask you as a mere servant… please give me some sign of your presence here. Surrounded by such horror and paganism it is becoming harder to have faith, and now my faith is all I have left. I fear that I can’t survive this world without my faith.’ you sobbed.

You soon began uncontrollably crying as two years of sadness hit you all at once, you could barely get it together enough to stand up and be on your way back to the trail.

Just as you had gotten on your feet you heard a rustle coming from behind you, immediately you reached for the dagger Ivar insisted you carry at all times.

The noise became louder and it became clear that this was not just an animal moving around but a person approaching you.

You got ready to defend yourself when at last Ubbe stepped into the clearing.

‘Ubbe! You nearly scared me to death!’ you whined, clutching your heart as you willed it to slow down.

‘Sorry, I departed shortly after you and decided to see to it that you got home safe, our soldiers get a bit too bold during a good feast.’ the Ragnarson explained.

‘Well thank you for your concern, but I am fine. I will be on my way.’ you said quickly, moving to walk away but Ubbe caught you by your wrist.

‘You were praying.’

A panic took hold of your heart, you had hoped he hadn’t heard your prayers.

‘P-please don’t tell him.’ you begged as your eyes began to water once again.

If Ivar heard about you praying to your Christian God he would be angry with you for at least two weeks, and that’s if you’re lucky.

‘Do not cry, I will not tell him. Just let me walk you home, to make sure you are safe.’

You let out a cry of relief, and as Ubbe led you back to the pathway you tried to recenter yourself. Ubbe was a good man, and from what you heard from Margrethe he was a good husband.

Though his marriage to the former thrall wasn’t by any means Christ like, seeing how he shared her with Hvitserk, but he was always kind and trusting.

Nothing like your husband who you now truly believed didn’t have a single kind bone in his body, and if he did it was probably one of the broken ones.

At last you two were at your door, you thanked him for his kindness.

‘I don’t consider ensuring your safety a kindness, it is a decency.’

‘I haven’t been shown much decency since I was brought here, so I do thank you. I hope you return home safely as well.’ you said.

‘Goodnight (Y/N).’ he bid farewell as you went inside.

Inside your home you head towards the chamber you shared with Ivar and found two thralls already there waiting to help you undress and get ready for bed. Removing Viking clothes is so much more time consuming than your old attire.

Once you were in your nightgown and your hair was unbraided you sent the girls away and got into your bed.

Silently you prayed, you had come to learn that most of the thralls doubled as spies for Ivar, and they felt no guilt telling him you were disobeying.

You weren’t sure when you drifted off or how long you had been asleep before you were rudely awoken by Ivar stumbling into the room and drunkenly falling into the bed.

‘Wife!’ he shouted.

You sighed and sat up, you already knew where this was going. So you stood up and moved to stand in front of him and began removing his leg braces.

Ivar only let two people do this for him, his personal healer and you. He would say he thought only a man’s wife should take care of him, but you knew he didn’t want anyone else seeing his legs.

You finally got them off and put them away while Ivar got undressed.

‘Come to bed.’

With a sigh you walked back to stand in front of your husband, and like he always did he ripped off your clothes and threw you onto the bed.

You don’t even bother trying to fight him anymore, he overpowers you physically, then once he is done he will lecture you on how evil you are for not wanting him as a wife should want her husband.

Ivar climbed on top of you, and with no gentleness he forced himself into your body and you let out a cry of pain. Your womanhood still hurt, it always hurt because Ivar would do this every night. 

At last he pulled himself out of you finished over your belly before he rolled over, you took the wet cloth from the bedside table and cleaned yourself.

‘In three days I will be leaving Kattegat to make arrangements with the Earl of Gotaland. If all goes well he and his soldiers will stand by me when I attack Hedeby next spring.’ Ivar said.

You were filled with a sensation you hadn’t felt in so long you could barely recognize it, joy.

‘How long will you be away.?’ you asked, trying not to sound excited.

‘If it were to go smoothly then at least two weeks time, but if what I’ve heard about this Earl is true then maybe a month.’ he informed.

A whole month without Ivar’s abuse.

‘I will be busy with preparations for the journey, so I will not be around as much. I will need you to make sure all my personal belongings are properly packed, as well as managing the home.’ Ivar said.

‘Of course.’ you said as you turned over.

Ivar sat there and watched you for a while and thought about how Bjorn would talk about his first wife, Thorunn, who would shower him in her love and affection whenever he left Kattegat for any amount of time.

He was eager to tell you that he was leaving, so that he could hear you go on about how much you will miss him, but you didn’t do that.

You just turned your back to him and went to sleep, as if you didn’t even care that he would be leaving.

Ivar’s stare became hard and angry before he leaned down and whispered into your ear.

‘My mother would have hated you...she was the only one in this world is whoever truly loved me.’ he hissed before he rolled over.

The next days were spent gathering everything Ivar would need on his journey; his clothes, weapons, oils for his braces, his bathtub and other things. Once that was done you spoke with all the thralls and let them know that they would report to you now.

Ivar was spending his time speaking with the men he would travel with, making sure all of them were on the same page, and preparing his battle tactic should things go horribly wrong. If your husband was anything it was prepared for the worst.

On the third day everything was chaos, you and Ivar running around getting the last minute things taken care of, double checking that everything was in order. It wasn’t until nightfall that you were both sure everything was ready, in the morning they could load up the carts and be on their way.

Honestly you were eager for sleep, tomorrow would be your first day of freedom.

Ivar came into the room very tiredly and you removed his braces then he used you like he always did, but this time he did not stop.

He did not stop until the sun was raising and thralls began knocking on the door to tell him that they were beginning to load up the carts. By the time he got off of you and began getting dressed you felt so sore and tired you were surprised you could even move.

While you were being dressed Ivar watched you, his beautiful wife. He would often look at you and think back to the day that he decided he would take you as his wife. You hadn’t even mentioned his legs, and that was always the first thing about him people noticed and spoke about.

He knew in that moment you were the woman for him; you were beautiful, and clearly saw him past his disability. Sure you praised a false God, but he could change that, and of course sometimes you would turn away from his touch but he knew how to make love to you.

Last night he had made love to you all night long, after all this would be the first time the two of you would be apart for more than several hours. Ivar wanted the night to be the best it could be and wanted it to be one to remember.

Once you and Ivar were outside you could see the other men loading their own carts; their wives kissing them and praying for their return, their children hugging their knees.

It was truly a heartwarming sight, and Ivar saw it as well.

When Ivar had married you he wanted to immediately fill you with his children, but the time wasn’t right, he could not give his wife or child his full attention. Not with Lagertha still breathing, taunting him with her very existence, no he needed to avenge his mother first.

For now he would bask in the love of his wife.

He looked over at his wife, but she just kept looking around at the other families, practically ignoring him.

‘Wife.’ he said getting your attention.

You looked over at him and kept your face from twisting in distaste.

‘Yes Ivar.’

Ivar looked up at you and waited for you to wish him a safe journey or kiss him...anything to show you would miss him.

You stared at him and he stared back, him waiting on you to tell him you didn’t want him to leave, and you waiting for him to tell you what he wanted.

After about a moment he finally realized you would not say sweet things to him like the other wives and he turned away from you angrily and got in his cart.

Completely confused as to how you had upset him this time you watched him sit his crutches down beside him in the cart. The other men finally got onto their own carts and finally they began their journey.

You watched Ivar’s cart the whole time as it went down the path, you watched until you couldn’t see it anymore. If only to make sure he was really truly gone, that he wouldn’t just turn around and come back as soon as you looked away.

‘Mistress?’ one of the thralls finally spoke.

‘Yes, let us return home.’ you said.

As you walked back to your estate you kept your head low to hide your smile.

Ivar was gone you walked around the house giving orders and the first one you gave was to the cooks. You requested porridge, chicken and fruits, the standard meal from the church. You hadn’t had porridge since you married Ivar, he wanted you to eat like a viking and vikings ate meat and vegetables.

In the days that followed you would assign the tasks to the thralls and then go out and sit in for Ivar in the great hall. You would hear the men scoff whenever you spoke, clearly not respecting what you have to say as not only a woman, but also as a Christian.

You did not care, because at the end of the day you were still Ivar’s wife and Ivar was a very violent man who was easy to insult. No one in Kattegat would ever be so bold as to publicly disrespect his wife.

After the official business was done you would go to the markets, or maybe just a stroll through the woods so you could have your own private little mass.

One day as you were preparing to take the body of Christ Ubbe came into the clearing.

‘I saw you heading out here.’ he said.

‘Are you going to make a habit of watching me, I doubt Margrethe would appreciate that.’ you smiled.

You already knew Ubbe would not tell Ivar what you were doing here, in all honesty it was great to be open about your religion with someone.

‘She is with Hvitserk today, she will not mind whatever I do.’ Ubbe dismissed.

‘Your views on marriage are so strange to me, even after all this time.’ 

‘I am sure your Christian marriage customs are just as odd to me.’ he smiled.

‘I guess you are right, besides I should get used to heathen marriage since I am married to one.’ you sighed as you sat on a fallen tree.

‘Not all marriages are like yours (Y/N), not all husbands are as cruel as Ivar.’ Ubbe said, sitting beside you.

‘I can see that, in the way other women sit by their husbands and speak so boldly to them...I wish I could speak with so much confidence.’ you said as you picked at the dead bark.

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Ivar would lose his temper.’

‘He’s not here is he? Ivar is miles and miles away, looking for warriors to fight against Lagertha.’ Ubbe grinned as he moved to stand in front of you.

‘Go on, yell at me...as if I were Ivar.’ 

You looked up at him, fighting a smile, you wanted to do this, it would be so nice to do this. Like a massive weight lifted off your chest.

‘Y-you are too mean.’ you said softly.

‘What was that wife? I cannot hear you.’ Ubbe said, mocking Ivar’s voice in a way that made you giggle like a child.

‘I said you are mean.’ you said louder this time.

‘And...you never let me choose our meals, or make any decisions of my own. I have to request what you order me to request, be where you tell me.’ you continued.

‘Keep going.’

‘I hate how you talk...you are always either whispering or yelling there is never an in between. I hate how everything I say and do is an insult to you!’ you shouted, standing up.

‘You always yell at me like a child, it’s humiliating!’

‘Let it all out!’ Ubbe encouraged.

‘I-I hate how you touch me!’ you yelled at the top of your lungs.

‘Woah.’ Ubbe said taken back a bit.

‘You are always too rough, it is disgusting and feels horrible!’ 

You took a deep breath and in that moment you realized you were yelling these things at Ubbe, things that he probably didn’t want to know at all.

‘I’m sorry.’ you squeaked out an apology.

‘It is fine.’ Ubbe smiled.

‘No that was unacceptable, I should not have told you that. That information should be kept private, I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.’ you said.

‘No it is fine really...but if I may ask, is Ivar really being too rough with you?’

‘...yes.’ you confessed.

‘Back home, I was so thankful for the church. No man ever laid hands on women of the church,  we took vows of celibacy.’

‘My father told me about this. You wait until you are married to have sex.’ Ubbe said.

‘Nuns swear not to marry; their hearts, bodies and souls belong to their church and their God. I never wanted to marry at all Ubbe, but then the decision was made for me and even that forced marriage wasn’t Christlike.’ you said.

You sat back down and lowered your gaze to your lap, and chose to ignore the tears that hit your skirts.

‘Hey.’ Ubbe said as he kneeled in front of you and took your hand in his own.

‘I hate this marriage Ubbe, I hate everything about it. The man I’m married to, the wifely duties, the thralls, the estate...the sex. I hate the sex so much.’ you cried.

You cried for what like hours but was probably only a few minutes.

‘What uh...what does Ivar do? What makes the sex so bad, if you don’t ask mind me asking.’

‘Well...he comes in while I’m asleep, then he yells until I wake up, that’s when I take off his braces, then he’ll climb on top of me and have his way.’ you explained.

‘Have his way?’ 

You nodded.

‘Does he ever try to...make you feel good in anyway?’ he asked.

You shook your head.

‘If he has then I surely took no notice.’

‘Does he...ever kiss you?’

Again you shook your head.

‘Never.’

‘Never?’

‘Not once, a wife who has never felt her husband’s lips.’ you sighed.

‘What about touching you? Holding you? Anything?’ Ubbe asked.

‘What are you speaking of?’ you asked in complete confusion, you had no idea what your brother in law was talking about.

‘I mean has he ever treated your body the way it should be treated, touched you the way a woman needs.’

‘I don’t even know what you are talking about Ubbe.’ you admitted.

Ubbe looked down at your hands in his then he looked back up at you.

‘May I?’ he asked raising his hand.

You looked at him, confused but accepting.

He brought his hand up and lightly ran his fingers up and down your neck, barely touching you, just enough for you to feel it.

‘Has Ivar ever kissed you here?’

‘N-no, he’s bitten me a few times I think.’

‘How about here?’ he said, placing his hand on you collar bone.

You took his hand and spread it out over your neck, so it looked as if he was going to choke you.

‘He pins me down like this some nights when I try to back away from him.’ you said.

Ubbe shook his head with a sad sigh.

‘If this is what Ivar has been doing with you then you are no less a virgin now than you were before he chose you. You are a virgin until you enjoy the sex you are having.’ he said.

‘I hear the other women speak of sex so fondly, and though it is a sin I become envious of them.’

‘Would you like to...try it?’ Ubbe offered.

‘Try what?’

‘Sex, enjoyable sex.’ he clarified.

Oh.

Your face went red as you prepared to say no but the word wouldn’t come out. Deep in your heart you knew that you wanted to try having sex that you would enjoy, but it would be adulterous.

Ubbe was your brother in law no less, could God forgive such a sin? Then again was your marriage even real in the Lord’s eyes, it wasn’t done in his ways, maybe it could be premarital sex?

No! You could not do this, and you are going to tell Ubbe this!

‘Y-yes.’ you said so softly even you yourself barely heard it.

Ubbe smiles before he began leaning into you.

‘If you want me to stop just tell me.’ He said before he kissed you.

You never told him to stop, he touched you in ways Ivar never had and he was gentle. That day you truly felt like a woman, like you had truly lost your  virginity.

Ubbe let you explore his body as well as your own, he would run his hand over your body to see which parts of you were most sensitive. You would touch him and try the things you’d hear the other women talk about and he would tell you if he liked it.

It was practically educational.

After that day your entire schedule had changed each afternoon you would send the thralls back to the estate to do their chores then you would meet Ubbe in the clearing.

The place where you once worshiped God had become the place where you would commit all kinds of sins with Ubbe. Everyday you would try something new, touching a new place, or a different position. You were learning what you like and Ubbe was always there and willing to help you discover new things.

You never wanted this to end, finally you were seeing a silver lining in the stormy cloud that was living among heathens. Now you truly had the freedom to do as you pleased, in a way that you never had back in your tiny kingdom.

In your heart you were still a Christian, but you were choosing to believe God was forgiving. It was so much harder to ignore the temptation in a place where no one sees anything they are doing as wrong.

Ubbe was also encouraging you to be more expressive and to make decisions for yourself, like choosing clothes you liked and speaking whenever you had something to say.

You still wondered what exactly Ubbe had told his wife about what was going on between the two of you, Margrethe didn’t seem too fond of you, but then again she never was to begin with.

All good things come to an end however, you had been told by an envoy that Ivar’s party was spotted about two days ride away.

With your husband’s inevitable return, you needed to make sure you and Ubbe were on the same page. You were fairly certain that none of the thralls were aware of your rendezvous, and you didn’t want Ubbe to let Ivar become aware of your affair.

‘Well...what are we trying today?’ Ubbe asked as he came into the clearing, already removing his tunic.

‘Nothing...Ubbe, Ivar is returning.’ you told him.

‘I heard, so if you have any other things you’d like to try out-’

‘Ubbe!’ you gasped.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘We can’t do this anymore, don’t you understand? Ivar is coming back and if he heard so much as a word of this he would kill us both.’ you explained.

Ubbe walked up to you and took your hand in his, same as he had weeks ago, when all this had started.

‘I would never tell him, and I would never let him hurt you (Y/N)...not ever.’ 

‘What can you do to stop him Ubbe? The larger part of the Great Army follow him, he has trusted spies walking all over Kattegat, the only reason they haven’t caught us is because he took the best of them with him. He has the men, the money and the mind to kill anyone he pleases.’

He didn’t have an argument for that, everything you had said was true. Ivar was crazy, the way he thought was unlike any other man in this world, and he had the means to do as he pleased to whoever pleased.

‘I will hold the memories of all we have done close to my heart forever, and I pray that God will forgive all of my sins. I must prepare for my husband’s return, this will be the last time I come here, with Ivar returning I will be being watched just as before.’ you said.

‘(Y/N).’ Ubbe said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

‘Even if you are right, remember that you are his wife, and you are a free woman. If he ever hurts you then you have the right to ask for divorce, Bjorn is the King now. The army is bound to him by their armrings, do not just let Ivar rule over you anymore.’ he advised.

You knew you could never take that advice, it would get you killed, but still you nodded. If only to make Ubbe feel better.

‘If this is our last evening together, then let us enjoy it.’ he said as he lowered himself onto his knees and pushed up your skirts.

You gasped in surprise before you let your head fall back in pleasure, deciding to enjoy  this last day of freedom before you returned to your chains.

That day you were surprised you could even walk back to the estate, your legs were still so weak. Honestly all you wanted to do once you were home was bathe and sleep, but that wasn’t an option, you had to prepare the home for Ivar tell the cooks to prepare his favorite meal and tell the healers to have all of Ivar’s usual treatments ready, and give the thralls a few last minute tasks.

As tired as you were sleep was evasive, tomorrow you would have to go back to walking on the eggshells of Ivar’s temper. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but when you were woken up by a thrall you were still dead tired.

One of the girls picked out a dress for you, the brown dress, Ivar had picked it out for you when he first brought you here, it was his favorite dress to see you in. 

You hated it.

‘Not that one, give the blue one, and I want the silver jewelry.’ you said.

‘Mistress, the master is returning today.’ the girl said. 

‘I know, give me the blue dress and the silver jewelry.’ you said firmly.

You were filled with dread even as you were bathed you were meant to be at the docks, waiting with the other wives to see your husband’s safe return. Ivar didn’t like you wearing bright colors, he said it drew other men to look at you in a way no man other than he had any right to.

As you walked to the square you did see a few men spare you a glance, but you didn’t shy away from the attention. You really like this dress, you had it commissioned by one of the best dressmakers in Kattegat.

All the women and children around you were buzzing with excitement, ready to see their beloved husbands and fathers returning home safely. How you wished you could have felt the same way they all did, but how could you?

‘Please, My Lord...be with me in my time of troubles, for one is approaching.’ you whispered as you saw the party approaching the square, Ivar’s cart right in front.

Still as a stone you stone you stood as the other women ran to their husbands’ carts and wagons, even when your husband’s cart was right in front of you and the thralls were going to open the door you remained still.

Ivar’s eyes landed on you, his beautiful wife, with shining eyes, but they lost some of their happiness when he saw what you were wearing.

‘Wife...what are you wearing?’ he asked as he was helped out of the cart, leaning against it while waiting for the thrall inside to hand him his crutch.

You didn’t recognize this thrall.

‘Who is she?’ you asked instead of answering.

Ivar glared, he noticed that you had not only avoided his question, but had even gone so far as to question him.

‘This is Freydis, a thrall I received from the Earl, given to me in good faith.’ he said.

You looked the slave over, and saw her beautiful face and even in thin ragged clothes you could tell she had a gorgeous body. Even now as they were reuniting with their wives some were looking at the thrall at Ivar’s side.

‘Of course...good faith.’ you said plainly.

Ivar didn’t like this tone of yours, not at all. He had just returned after being away for a month and he was ready to have his wife run up to cry how much she had missed him. While away he managed to forgive her not being sadder to see him, maybe she didn’t truly believe that he was really going, but surely now that he’d been gone so long she should be happy to see him.

She should be wearing his favorite dress for her, she should be kissing him the way the other wives did their husbands. Instead she was in this ridiculous blue dress that she no doubt bought with his money, and questioning his faithfulness. 

‘Come, I wish to see the house, make sure it as it was when I left...since my wife has clearly changed.’ he snarled, looking you dead in the eye.

‘I apologize if I am behaving strange...Husband.’ you apologized, as you would have before, but you didn’t lower your head.

You looked him in the eye as you spoke, something you could rarely do before, but now it felt easier.

Ivar instructed the thralls to remove his items from the cart and have them brought to the estate while you, he and Freydis walked. He said he wanted the new thrall to become better acquainted with the house since she’d apparently be your personal thrall.

At that you had no reaction, and Ivar noticed it.

He did not like the way you were acting, he had brought you a thrall as a gift, he had safely returned home with even more warriors to fight against his mother’s killer. Ivar had missed her from the moment he got in the cart, and he couldn’t wait to be back in her arms.

Even when the Earl had gifted him with Freydis he knew it was meant to be a bed warmer, but even a beautiful woman like her could compare to his wife in his eyes. Freydis spoke words of encouragement, about how his deformity was a gift from the Gods and how he was greater for having them. Those words had truly touched him, but they were not what he needed to hear.

When he thinks back on the day he first saw his wife in that unimportant kingdom and saw her standing up to a king on behalf of the other women he admired her bravery, then when he met her in his tent and she figured out his little life or death mind game he was impressed by her intelligence.

He knew she was the perfect wife when he asked her what she thought of him and she spoke of how she feared him she said nothing about his legs. She spoke to him as she would have spoken to a man standing nine feet tall man, not some cripple who couldn’t chase her if she tried to run.

Even once they were married she never mentioned his legs or let her eyes linger on them the way others always did. She treated him like a man and he loved her for that, for the way she feared and respected him.

Now she was treating him as if he wasn’t anything important to her, even the fear in her eyes were gone.

Something had to have happened while he was gone, and if it was the last thing he did he was going to find out what it was.

[emberbent]

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

[Originally posted by @cassandrapentayaaaaas, whose name apparently is also Elle, ayyyy. I’ll be filling this out for my Fire Avatar OC Shinza, and maybe also for some other characters later.]

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Previous to her airbending training, Shinza would have had a hard time being still and doing nothing for longer than a few minutes. Not out of a need to burn off energy, but out of a fear of being alone with her thoughts for too long. Now, she can meditate and be still for over an hour, or much longer if she takes short breaks. She sat for eleven hours for her tattoo, which was the longest she’s gone doing nothing.

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

She doesn’t appear to be easily amused - she’s more of a smirker than a laugher if she finds something funny. Unless she’s among people who are close to her, or she’s drinking pear sake.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Shinza’s one of the lucky ones who falls asleep as soon as she climbs into bed. She doesn’t have to do anything special to fall asleep.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

Hard to say. Maybe moderate? She doesn’t like to reveal much about herself unless she really trusts someone not to abuse that information, which isn’t all that often. She’s self-reliant enough that she doesn’t need others to help her most of the time, which can be seen as untrusting. But really, all it takes is showing compassion and self-awareness to get her to let her guard down.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Fairly easy, since her default mode is not overly trusting.

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

She's always had trouble determining which rules are or should be flexible vs enforced. Now that she’s in a position where she’s more or less exempt from following rules as necessary to keep balance, she’s realizing it’s even more complex than she ever thought. She contemplates often whether she has a duty not to follow the rules she holds others to, or to lead by example and hold herself to those same standards.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

The smell of petrichor mingling with the oily smog of Republic City brings her back to when she was small, and she would walk with her mother, a doctor, every day to the clinic. Her mother would hold her hand, and they’d traverse in silence, except to point out the stray capuchin cats sheltering under the Satos on the street, or Shinza would ask for a treat from the bakery.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Twirling, dancing, spinning around, singing. It wasn’t that her parents discouraged her from these normal activities, but she often didn’t have the presence of mind to refrain in the wrong situations.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Not often; usually to emphasize her point. She distinctly remembers being nine years old and watching someone walk into traffic. A bystander earthbent them out of the way just before a Sato could run them over. She said her first curse word aloud as she rode in a cab with her father. He wasn’t mad.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

She never got into habitual lying. Too much to remember, too much guilt.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Lucky for her, she has thousands of past Avatars to talk to. 

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

She has long arms - this isn’t normally an issue.

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Black and shades of red; absolutely.

What animal do they fear most?

Shinza’s not afraid of any animals in a phobia sense, but she does think canyon crawlers are fairly ugly, and she’d hate to meet one.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

She thinks before she speaks, but she doesn’t rehearse what she wants to say before the conversation happens. She speaks deliberately and rarely says something she doesn’t mean. 

What makes their stomach turn?

The normal stuff - gore and viscera, bad smells, being anxious or nervous.

Are they easily embarrassed?

Very much so, although she tries not to let it show.

What embarrasses them?

The biggest thing is having her flaws or screw-ups used as an example to a group. She also suffers pretty bad secondhand embarrassment watching others do embarrassing things.

What is their favorite number?

She doesn’t have one.

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

She’d explain familial love as distinctly separate from platonic or romantic love in that for her, it comes from a place of duty as well as physical proximity and similarity. Her personality closely matches both of her parents’, so they naturally got along well most of the time, which made them feel close, which she might define as familial love.

She feels there’s very little difference between platonic and romantic love, and that one can easily morph into the other and back. These are based on things outside of physical proximity or biology, like shared interests, a common goal, and sexual attraction. Sometimes it’s as simple as, “I don’t know. I just love them.”

Why do they get up in the morning?

Duty. Responsibility. The sunlight coming in through her window has woken her and she can’t go back to sleep. 

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

It manifests as deep sadness and a feeling that there’s a flaw she should fix in herself that will make the situation better. Then it festers into shame for having those emotions or caring at all, and she becomes aloof.

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

She might pine for whatever this other fortunate person has that she doesn’t for a second, but then she shrugs it off.

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

She’s happy to talk about sex in an academic sense with acquaintances, but she’s only comfortable discussing her own experiences with her best friend Nero. Even then, she squirms a little.

What are their thoughts on marriage?

She likes the idea of loving someone so much that you’d enter a legally binding, life-long contract with them, and she certainly sees the financial and social advantages. As to whether she wants to get married herself, she’d be perfectly fine either way.

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Xia, her dragon companion. Especially now that she’s not afraid of heights or the open air anymore. Plus, they just get each other - no words needed. They had a strong bond from the beginning, but ever since Xia saved Shinza’s ass in Gaoling, Shinza feels closer to her than ever.

What causes them to feel dread?

Knowing that the world is watching every move she makes, and that everything she does (or doesn’t do) will go down in history. Knowing that if she can’t protect herself, she could be the last Avatar.

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Definitely not. Being lied to is something she has a hard time forgiving, and she’d much rather deal with the ripples of an unpleasant truth than feeling she can’t trust the person keeping the truth from her, and finding out anyway.

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

No, but Shinza holds herself to impossibly high standards.

Who do they most regret meeting?

Yanyu, the ex-Dai Li agent who her parents hired to block her bending and repress her memories when she was little. Shinza thought Yanyu wanted to meet with her in Gaoling to apologize for her role in letting the world go for so long without its Avatar, but it turned out to be a trap; Yanyu attempted to subdue her and turn her over to The Organization.

Who are they the most glad to have met?

Amrit. She came to him on the Island of the Sun Warriors thinking she was a nonbender, that she couldn’t possibly be the Avatar, and he helped her through that confusion. He unblocked her chi and helped her flame. Maybe he was a little too hard on her during training, but he taught her the value of working til you puke. He’s always had her back, even from the first day.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

No. Shinza rarely leads conversations.

Could they be considered lazy?

Not by any stretch. She’s deliberate, diligent, and hard set on doing things right and thoroughly.

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

Very, which is detrimental to her role as the Avatar. She doesn’t know yet that she will live with the burden of guilt for her decisions and actions her whole life, or how to be okay with that.

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

She’s a supporter and an attentive listener. She does her best to follow up with questions or mention small details later. Unless it’s something like a friend being excited about getting back together with her toxic ex - then she’d be clear about where she stands on the matter. 

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

She’s never sought out romance, but she has experienced and enjoyed it. Romantic love isn’t something she requires to feel happy or validated.

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

She doesn’t have a system - she just remembers things like patterns, numbers, and names. It’s a gift that, oddly enough, she was bullied for in school. Sometimes she forgets that others don’t have such an incredible memory and gets frustrated with them, but she’s working on it.

What memory do they revisit the most often?

Leaving Nero alone at the bar, mouth agape, as two Fire Nation officials all but dragged her out the door with them. She never got to explain to Nero what happened after she figured it all out, and she hasn’t seen her since that day almost two years ago. The guilt eats at her.

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Fairly difficult. She can’t ignore her own flaws, so she’s unable to extend that to others. She’s working on it though, and she’s got Amrit to practice on. No shade tho.

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Extremely. She was an only child, so her parents were hawks circling her, watching her every move. They didn’t pick on her on purpose, but it was pretty clear to Shinza that they were disappointed she didn’t go to medical school or join the military. On top of that, she grew up believing she was a nonbender, which culminated in a general, oppressive feeling that she was deeply flawed.

How do they feel about children?

She was an only child and didn’t grow up around her extended family, so she doesn’t have a lot of experience being around kids. Before, she could think of worse things than raising a child of her own. But now, she can’t fathom trying to balance her duties while raising a child.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

The shame of leaving the physical and spirit worlds out of balance and being remembered as an ineffective Avatar is unfathomable to her. She’d say she wants it more than anything.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

She’d say she’s sexual, sometimes, and leave it at that.

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character? 

In every OC, I think there’s at least a little bit of their creator; I didn’t intend for Shinza to end up so similar to myself, but she is. And as I develop my own sense of self, I see that reflected in Shinza when I write her, and that’s pretty exciting.

B) What inspired you to create them? 

I’d been wanting to write an Avatar OC story for a long time, and nothing felt right or fun or exciting until I considered using Shinza, a character I’d had stewing in my head for a while. Once I pictured her in the Avatar world, things started falling into place pretty quickly.

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? 

Absolutely. I planned the story from start to finish so I knew where I was headed, but along the way, Emberbent!Shinza started to take shape in unexpected ways and deviate from the original plan. As her personality in this story evolves, I have to figure out her reactions to things, and the ripples from those reactions, from a new perspective. I don’t have a clear view of her transformation arc, because it’s happening in real time along with mine. The (already flimsy) ending I’d intended has been blown to smithereens, and I have no idea how it’ll go - I’m essentially 50% pantsing at this point - but I feel less frustrated knowing I have more room to see what happens.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? 

She’s had a number of different physical appearances. At one point, she was a monk child in a DND campaign I played in. In the preliminary planning stages of Emberbent, she looked like Nero, her best friend, and was an Earth Avatar.

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

I like to think we’d get along, but we’d both have to be okay with natural silence. Neither of us are inclined to lead conversations.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

All of the above. Pride because of how hard she’s worked to get where she is; excitement because of all the horrific and wonderful things she’ll go through to turn her into who she’ll ultimately become; and frustrated because she feels flat to me, so I’m assuming she feels flat to others too.

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most? 

She can’t see past her own nose yet in terms of her role. It will take some time for her to realize she has to relinquish all of her own desires and happiness to her duty as the Avatar. For now, she’s stuck in selfish-mode, doing her best to help those close to her while trying to maintain her grip on her old ego.

H) What trait do you admire most? 

While she’s still working on seeing things from a broad perspective, she has an innate ability to deeply understand people, their feelings, and the situations they find themselves in. She’ll drop everything in order to help.

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? 

Yeah. I’m not into crossover fics... yet.

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

Mmm, I don’t know about manipulating canon, but I definitely extended it and filled in some parts as needed. Since she’s not the Avatar that came directly after Korra, I had to create the character that came between them. And since Shinza’s timeline is well after Korra’s, I had to envision what Republic City and the world would look like 70 years or so in the future.

Edit: Actually, just kidding. I forgot I totally manipulated canon when I figured out a way for Shinza to reconnect with the Avatars before Aang.

[ya-boy-roy-toy]

25 Character Headcanon Prompts— answered by Roy Harper

(this was originally posted by @twitchingrobot and can be found here)

1.      Has your character ever done anything illegal?

Me? Do anything illegal?! If I were to answer this question honestly we would be here forever.

2.      Favorite mode of transportation!

I have a motorcycle that I like to take around, but nothing beats a good ol’ pickup truck.

3.      Are they a good cook?

I mean, Jay likes to cook regularly, but it’s always sandwiches and basic stuff. Sometimes I like to make bigger meals and experiment in the kitchen.

4.      Is physical health a major concern for them?

Have you seen some of the shit that I put in my body? Not to mention the fact that I’m a damn superhero.

5.      Would they last a day in the wilderness alone? Elaborate!

I definitely could. The whole bow-and-arrow getup isn’t just for show, and I grew up playing in the wilderness for fun. But I can’t guarantee that I will do it without complaining.

6.      Are they good with kids? Do they like kids? (This can apply to child characters, too!)

Yeah! I like those little squirts (except Damian). Might even like a few of my own someday…

7.      Is your character good at hiding their emotions?

Depends on who I’m trying to hide them from. Jay can sense everything, but I could always get anything past Oliver.

8.      Can your character keep a secret?

Short answer: Yes. Long answer: I will have to fight against every fiber of my being that will want to blabber about it to Kori – how can I say no to that face?!

9.      Rate their verbal communication skills on a scale of one to ten, one being the worst and ten being the best.

 I’d give it about a 7. I’d consider myself more of a physical guy – just ask Jay. ;)

10.  Does silence bother your character? If so, what would they do about it?

I can appreciate some good silence where and when it’s needed, but if I’m not the one who needs it then I usually start to get antsy. Jay has a good bit of patience with me though.

11.  How do they feel about spiders?

Pft! Those teeny things? With their uncharacteristic amount of legs and eyes? With those invisible-until-it’s-too-late webs I walk into? I don’t mess with them, but Jay is usually the one to take care of such matters.

12.  Is your character prone to picking fights or non-confrontational?

Honestly I’ve lost track of who picks the fights anymore, but Jason and I usually work together to finish it no matter what.

13.  Which is worse for your character: intense heat or freezing temperatures?

As someone who is not keen on wearing sleeves, I’d really rather not be in freezing anything.

14.  Does your character prefer home remedies or over-the-counter medicine?

I don’t really do “medicine” anymore (for obvious reasons) so I’ve started to turn towards more homeopathic methods.

15.  Is your character politically-charged?

 Eh, I could honestly give a shit less.

16.  Is your character artistic in any way?

Believe it or not, I design most of my hats!

17. Can your character read? Do they like to?

Yep, I like to read both fiction and non-fiction, as well as those “fanfictions” all the kids are talking about these days (especially the spicy ones!)

18.  What would a typical day-dream of theirs be about?

What a normal, chill domestic life might be like with Jason. A house, a dog, some little ones running around, and no more damn masks. Otherwise, just daydreaming about Jason in general, or thinking about old missions.

19.  How does your character act when they get sick?

I hate being vulnerable, but I won’t say no to anyone making me soup or getting me a warm blanket. Kori is a great cuddler (she doesn’t really get affected by human sicknesses) and Jason is like a Mother Hen.

20.  Is your character flexible?

If we’re talking physically, I’m more flexible than Jay – but I don’t think he minds.

21.  What always pushes your character’s buttons, without fail?

I absolutely can’t stand when anyone moves my stuff, especially my inventions and experiments. All it takes is for someone to misplace just one of my arrows and everyone will feel the pain of that “mistake”…

22.  Pants, shorts, or skirts? (Or nothing at all.)

I’ll wear whatever I look good in – which is everything, naturally. But, my favorite article of clothing is super cozy pajama pants, for sure.

23.  How does your character feel about making a scene in public?

I have no sense of embarrassment so I don’t really care, but drawing attention is usually not the best for our types of missions. Jason also doesn’t like drawing attention to himself in any capacity, and starting anything in public is the quickest way to wind up on the couch for the rest of the week…

24.  Is your character easily scared?

Not by, like, normal stuff – you know, like the dark, spiders, or clowns (well, okay, maybe a few in particular). Honestly the only thing that really scares me is myself, and if you’ve known me for as long as I have then you’d understand.

25.  Do you feel that you as person could be close with this character? Elaborate.

Mun here! Well, considering I made this blog to portray Roy, I’d say yes I could definitely do that; I see a lot of his characteristics and personality in myself.

[velathetanager]

Child’s Play

Chapter 8: Revealing 

It's been three days. Why haven't they dropped this? Delly asked Isa.

I guess because I’m an only child. 

Do you want to do a loop?

Nah, the ceiling’s too low.

Okay. Delly would have pouted if he could. I wish I could move around. It's scary not being able to move.

I could leave the room

I'd appreciate it.

She waited until everyone was distracted and left the room.

Delly stretched. "You know, you never did explain why that one guy was afraid of me."

“Which one? Uncle Pancakes?”

"Yeah. All I did was put his hammer at the site. I didn't hit him with it or anything."

“No, I’ll show you,” She got a movie from one of the shelves called Child’s Play. 

"A movie? Do you want popcorn?"

“Yeah,” she put the movie in. Not long into the movie, Delly realized why Pancakes was scared of him.

He flinched when Chucky was set on fire. "...That looks painful. You know I wouldn't do that to you, right, Isa?"

“Yeah. But the others don’t know,”

"It isn't fair," the doll pouted. "And I can't prove it because some of then don't believe!"

“Kind of hard to believe, even in this kind of world. Roseflame would likely believe.”

"I checked some memories. How is an evil eyeball, a reality warper cartoon, and a dragon lady believable but I'm not?" Delly whined.

“Because nothing like you has existed yet. Come on, let’s go find Roseflame! I’ll be like an adventure that the others talk about having,”

"I hope she believes."

“She should, There was several living dolls in our world.” 

"Cool," Delly grinned, sitting on her shoulder. 

Meanwhile, Intelligent was looking over the video feed from Jennifer's fight. "Yeah, it does seem pretty incriminating. At the very least she isn't human." 

“Look at the ground. The blood there isn’t the same color,” Pancakes pointed out. 

"I've noticed. Of course, she can chalk that up to bad editing. If she really is Hero, she's good at keeping it on the down low."

“Yeah, let’s hope none of her enemies notice this. Ya know. Besides Brutal.”

"Two-Face still has it out for her after that thing with Grave. Didn't she fry him?"

“I think so,”

"I'm still thinking about what Gentle said about that doll," Spyper commented. "Alive my a**."

“I dunno, I saw some freaky sh*t in Slender Fortress,”

"Like Chucky?" Intelligent asked, switching to a document to take notes.

“Yeah. I think he was on- no. That was the ‘winter’ pack as Roseflame called them,”

Spyper shrugged. "She would know. Think it's evil?"

“I dunno, Isa isn’t dead yet,”

"To be fair, Chucky never wanted to kill Andy if I remember right."

“I dunno, I hate watching that movie.”

"Gentle is convinced it's like that movie."

“Yeah. I just don’t know what to think. It’s one eye turns red at me,”

"It tried to frame you, so I don't think it's fond of you," Spyper quipped.

“Yeah. And I know Rudra ain’t a huge fan of me. I was afraid she was gonna snap me like a twig,”

"She scares almost everyone. That one Scout wasn't too worried about her." 

"That Scout gets on my nerves," hissed Spyper. There was a knock at the chapel door. "Special delivery for an A** Pancakes?"

Pancakes walked up to the door and retrieved his package.

Inside was enough Bonk to make a soda lover faint and a small paper with a blue smiley face drawn on it.

“Maybe the doll ain’t as evil as I thought,”

Delly stared at the Winged Star. "That thing looks funny."

“Her mode of transport is here, but she isn’t,” Isa looked around the woods. “Maybe it’ll take us to her!”

"Wait, is it alive?"

“It’s a portal, but it always acts like it’s mind is connected to Roseflame’s. It’s hard to explain,”

"...and a living doll is hard to believe," Delly groaned. 

The Star took the pair to Roseflame, and Delly froze up.

Wait, if she'd believe, why am I frozen?

She doesn’t know you yet.

That's fair.

“Isa? What are you doing out here by yourself?” “I’m not by myself,” Roseflame looked at Delly for a moment. “Why are you two out here by yourselves?” 

Delly was unfrozen. "Isa told me you would believe."

“Well yeah. The question is why are you two out in the wilderness. You two can’t defend yourselves,”

Delly frowned. "Excuse me?"

“I’m out hunting. One of the monsters got loose again. Trust me you two would be dead in seconds,”

Delly scoffed. "I'll take you home, Isa," he said, picking her up via telekinesis.

A creature let out a paralyzing screech. “There he is,”

Delly stared. "What is that?!?"

Roseflame pulled out her Atomizer and waited for the creature to attack her directly. “Come on out Rake!” 

"Yeah, that's our cue to leave," Delly decided. 

Isa was paralyzed. “Isa, stay close. No sudden movements,”

Delly froze up, eyes glowing bright red.

The Rake tried to go for Isa only for Roseflame to pull her close, pulling out her winger and attacking the Rake.

Delly noted that Isa was scared. Calm down, Isa, we got you.

Roseflame picked up Isa and hopped on the Winged Star. “Now would be the time to prove yourself,”

Delly grinned. "Sure thing," he said, 

 A few minutes later, the three returned to the chapel.

Roseflame cursed a bit. “I’ll have to go back and get him. Before he causes any damage,” she then walked into the Chapel. “Hey Jester! Your child went for a little adventure!”

"What kind of adventure?" they called, flying down to the first floor.

“A ‘lets go find this person and get ourselves in life threatening danger’ adventure,” 

Delly's eyes flashed red. Not our fault!

She has a point. Roseflame, because she was the first to escape, now has to be the anchor of the two worlds. Which means that if a creature escapes, she has to capture it.

That's too bad. Wait, why didn't you mention this earlier?

I honestly thought she’d have things under control.

"Life th- What the hell happened!?" Jester gasped, scooping Isa up and checking her for wounds.

“My guess is she wanted to see if I knew anything about her doll, so she went to me because we both come from the same world. Unfortunately Rake got out an hour or so ago,”

"THE RAKE!?"

“She’s fine. But yeah.. He got out, I figured I’d return her back home before I finally captured him. Prevent accidents,”

Jester looked ready to have a heart attack.

“... Let’s sit you down before your sugar habits catch up to you,”

What's the matter? I got it away from you, right? Why are they scared?

Parental instincts and knowing how close I was to danger without them knowing.

Delly would have shrugged. Okay.

"What's going on down there?" Pure questioned, coming down the stairs.

“I’ll explain when Jesters heart rate goes down,”

Delly noticed Brutal and Gentle there, and as Isa was tended to by Jester, he fixed them with a red-eyed stare. When Gentle noticed this, he threatened the doll with a knife and a voodoo fall he had in his pocket.

The stare didn't change except for the glow dimming somewhat. However, Delly did decide it was appropriate to say, "Back in France!"

RED paused, looking up. “That’s not the full line! That doll is trying to talk!” 

"It looks damaged," Intelligent noted. "Probably a voice box malfunction."

“Didn’t Rudra say it’s just stuffing inside it?”

"Yeah. She also said there was energy coming off it. Maybe the energy functions as a voice box."

“Maybe...” Delly could tell that RED believed he was alive.

After a brief second, the eye glow returned to its original brightness. Spyper looked at it. "I wonder what it would say to me." 

Delly seemed to hesitate. "That Sniper's a Spy!"

"Eh, I mean, that works," decided the Freak. 

Spyper picked up the doll and put him in front of RED, and Delly snarled, "You snake!" When he faced Delly towards Brutal, the doll said, "That there just ain't the place you oughta be standin'!" 

The eye glow seemed to brighten.

"Well, he clearly doesn't like you," Spyper said, tossing Delly back to Isa.

Isa nearly dropped him but Roseflame caught him and handed him back to Isa.

I don't think I like that guy.

Which one? Spyper, RED, Gentle, or Brutal?

That Spyper. Being thrown is terrifying! 

Delly dropped the topic, though, in favor of going back to staring at Brutal, Gentle, and RED.

[toxic-lucky]

All for Viper

1. If your oc was to host a TV show, what would it be about? Would your oc be good at it? What sorts of guests would appear?

Ze would probably end up hosting something similar to whatever the hell Wild Kratz were on, but showcases monsters specific to the underground.

2. Can your oc play any instruments? Have they ever wanted to learn how to play any? Why?

No to all, too much work and not enough time.

3. If you were to choose another name for your oc, what do you think it would be? Did you choose it for how it sounds or for its meaning?

Cobra, because snake related and I’m not that creative.

4. How does your oc fare in the dark? Are they scared? Do they trip over things really easily or navigate like they have night vision? (Or do they have night vision?)

Ze has something similar to night vision, because similar to snakes while ze has horrible eyes, ze also sees with UV light instead of the typical spectrum humans see.

5. How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

Ze’d be a pretty bad teacher, except for maybe history class.

6. What was your oc’s relationship with their parents like? If they didn’t have any parents/didn’t know them, who in their life was the closest to a parent to them?

n/a

7. Does your oc have any allergies, intolerances, or other sensitivities? How dangerous is it? Does this affect their daily life in any way?

n/a

8. Does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? How many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

Ze prefer to be alone due to all the snakes, but ze can deal with 8 or so people without starting to feel uncomfortable.

9. How easily does your oc make friends? Do they have difficulty talking to new people? Why?

Ze has a bit of difficulty talking to new people, but ze ends up powering through it anyways. Make social anxiety your bitch, fellas.

10. How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

Ze’s pretty open to new things as long as ze has someone that ze knows along.

11. What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to your oc?  Do they still feel ashamed for it? Were there any witnesses?

It probably had to be when one of zir snakes bit Aza as he walked by. They both stared at eachother for a few minutes, and Aza laughed it off. Viper is mortified still to this day, and thinks about it and cringes at random.

12. Does your oc have any best friends? Who was/is their closest friend? What about their worst enemy?

Bowtie/Alex and Scythe/Salem

13. How dangerous is your oc? Are they completely innocent, or someone to be feared? Do others know?

Someone to be feared, ze’s a high-rank reaper so ze has quite the reputation.

14. What is your oc’s vision like? Do they require glasses, are they completely blind, or do they have 20/20 vision? Does this have an effect on their life?

Ze’s vision is blurry around the edges and the sunglasses don’t help but ze wear them anyways for safety reasons. This can lead to zir bumping into things accidentally. Zir snakes try to help as much as they can though.

15. What is your oc’s favourite time of day? Why is this? Do they have a daily practice during this time?

Ze doesn’t know the difference between the times of day, but lunch is a big one because zir snakes get to eat and it freaks people out.

16. How often does your oc lie? Why is that? What was the biggest lie they’ve ever told?

Ze surprisingly doesn’t lie often simply because ze has no reason to. The biggest lie probably was something like “I didn’t do it.”

17. How well can your oc keep secrets? Is there a difference between how they handle their own vs someone else’s? To what lengths would they go to keep something hidden?

Ze can keep secrets very well, and would go to any lengths even if that means lying or simply avoiding someone. Zir own secrets ze keep to themselves while with others ze will occasionally bring it up to the other person just to make sure everything’s fine depending on the type of secret it is.

18. How does your oc fare in an emergency situation? Do they panic, do they freeze, do they take charge?

Take charge.

19. If your oc were to be arrested for something, what would it be for? For being too kind, for a legitimate crime?

A legitimate crime of first-degree murder (reapers kill people as a job).

20. What is your oc’s personal hygiene like? Is it important to them? What is their daily routine for this like?

Zir personal hygiene is very important, especially when the snakes start to shed skin. Ze washes zir face, removes makeup, moisturizes, and brushes zir teeth. Ze doesn’t actually shower all that often to avoid the snakes getting scale rot from high humility.

21. Are there any public events your oc would love to go to? Concerts, plays, movies, parties, etc? What about ones that they would hate? Why?

Ze’d hate all of it because too many people, too many smells, too much movement.

22. How quiet or loud is your oc? Are they easily capable of sneaking around without being heard, or do they feel it’s impossible to stop talking?

Ze’re rather quiet, so ze end up sneaking around a lot on accident.

23. How difficult is it for your oc to get to sleep? Do they fall asleep the moment they hit the pillow, or do they have insomnia? Any reason why?

It’s somewhat difficult for zir to sleep, but that’s because snakes are nocturnal. Otherwise it’s the position, and the snakes have to stop shifting around for ze to sleep.

24. How dramatic is your oc? Do they make a big deal over every little thing, or do they fail to react to even the most crazy of events?

Zir not all that dramatic.

25. How does your oc handle being sick? Do they pretend not to be? Do they complain a lot? How susceptible to getting sick are they?

Ze pretends to not be sick, and ze honesty doesn’t get sick all that often. Ze gets better relatively quickly too.

26. How stylistically fancy is your oc? Or would they rather go for comfort and plainness instead?

Ze goes for comfort and ends up fashionable anyways.

27. What’s your oc’s preferred mode of transportation? Walking, vehicle, (or in a sci-fi/magic setting) teleportation?

Walking.

28. Is your oc always late, always early, or always right on time? Is there any reason for this?

Early, “if you’re on time then you’re late” mentality.

29. How empathetic is your oc? Or are they closer to being a sociopath? Any reason why?

Ze’re pretty apathetic, but ze can hide it and handle things like a regular functional person. No specific reason.

30. How much does your oc swear? Or do they keep completely clean? Why is this? Is there any situation where they would be the opposite?

Ze swears a lot, but ze can censor zirself when needed.

31. What is your oc’s sense of humour like? What do they find funny? Do they try to be funny? Are they actually?

Ze find those “fail” comps funny, also dumbass poorly timed photos of people. Ze doesn’t try too hard to be funny though.

32. Is your oc a pacifist, or someone who picks fights? Why? In what situations would they be the opposite?

Ze fight when ze need to, but otherwise ze just don’t see a point.

33. How does your oc’s own perception of themselves compare to how other people see them? Is your oc aware that other people see them differently (if it’s different)?

Ze see themselves as a bit below average and a dumbass, others see zir as scary as intimidating as well as smart. Ze knows the differences.

34. How easily does your oc throw something away? As soon as something is through with its usefulness, or are they more like a hoarder? Is there a reason?

Ze don’t throw things away all that easily, scared that ze’ll end up loosing more memories because of it.

35. Is your oc a workaholic, or do they find it hard to be busy at all? Do they find it easy to relax, or must they have something to do at all times? Why?

Ze likes to relax and chill a lot, but ze doesn’t find it easy to relax in the slightest.

36. What is your oc’s ideal night out like? Or would they rather spend it at home?

Ze’d rather spend it at home eating icecream and watching some dumbass conspiracy show or horror movie.

37. How picky is your oc? Will they not accept something because of the smallest details being off, or do they not care in the slightest? Why?

Ze aren’t all that picky. Ze probably just end up shoving it into a box or something.

38. How energetic is your oc? Do they have trouble sitting still or do they feel low on juice all the time? Any reason why?

Ze’re pretty “low on juice” a lot, and ze’re just kinda mellow. Snakes are nocturnal and cold blooded, ze need the heat to get more energy.

39. Is it difficult for your oc to focus, or do they have no trouble being in the moment? Do they daydream or zone out?

Ze zone out a lot, and focusing for zir is very hard.

40. How humble is your oc? Or are they closer to royal in their self-perception? Why? Is this obvious to others?

Ze’re pretty humble, but make a lot of “I’m better than you” jokes so it’s not that obvious to others about zir low self-esteem.

[emybain]

Total Fluff Where Nova Surprises Everyone

I previously posted something about a mother coming up to sketch’s team in public and asking them to hold her baby while she did something, and the baby is crying and all of that, and no one can calm them down except for nova, much to everyone’s surprise and amusement. I decided to write it because i have nothing better to do with my life. Im gonna say it takes place post-archenemies but pre-reveal so…. Here. 

Edit: Holy heck I did not mean for this to be so long Im so sorry. Warning: this is unedited bc im tired.

Nova’s eyes followed Adrian as he paced back and forth. They were in the lounge, waiting to be called in for a patrol shift. Oscar and Ruby were playing Battle to the Death, like they always did, and were volleying insults to one another. Danna was...well...stuck in swarm mode still. Nova’s stomach churned at the thought. Her butterflies had disappeared after the gala a couple of weeks ago, according to Adrian, and hadn’t made an appearance since. Nova was constantly checking her surroundings whenever she was alone to make sure that one of them wasn’t following her the way the one currently trapped in the room she shared with honey was. She tried to push down thoughts of Danna, and how if her trapped butterfly somehow got loose, it would all be over for Nova.

    Nova wanted nothing more than to be done with the Renegades, but she still had a mission. A mission that was supposed to have ended two weeks ago, had it not been for the arrest of her uncle, Ace Anarchy. This hero charade was running itself dry. Nova was back on track; her uncle’s arrest reminded her of that. She was expecting Leroy or Honey or Phobia to tell her any day now that she could put Nova McLain and Insomnia to rest. That she could become Nightmare, fully, again.

    She waited for that day with anticipation, fingers itching to grasp it. It was only a matter of time before the Renegades caught onto her game, also. Too many clues, too many reckless mistakes, had been left behind the night of the gala. Then, she had thought her time parading around as a Renegade was over. She hadn’t cared about what she did or the damage she left that would lead the Renegades busting down the door to her home and arresting her. She cared now. Every step, every maneuver, every breath, was taken with precaution. Even now, Nova’s eyes left Adrian’s pacing form to glance at the elevator doors, at the exit signs, at the room full of Renegades that could easily outnumber her. Every time the elevator buzzed open, she expected more experienced and higher up Renegades to come bursting in, armed with powers and weapons and handcuffs and Agent N specifically for Nova.

    Adrian passed her for the umpteenth time, and she grabbed his hand, which had been used to amplify his rant about Nightmare. She had only been half listening to him, as it was stuff she had heard a thousand times before, how much he hated her and how she would pay for what she did to Max.

    Max, who was currently hidden away in his quarantine. No one was allowed to visit him, not even Captain Chromium. After barely surviving being ran through with the chromium spear, and having to go through a surgery that lasted hours, Max had been transported back to his quarantine to avoid the media and to prevent prodigies from being affected by his power. He was on strict bed rest, and would be that way for many weeks. Nova’s heart tugged, and she longed to tell Adrian that it wasn’t Nightmare who almost killed Max, but Genissa Clark, who was no longer a Renegade after being tranquilized by Nova herself. However, there was no way for her to tell Adrian without revealing her true identity and ruining everything. Not that it would matter much if he knew the truth, anyways. He still hated Nightmare with a burning passion.

    Ironic, really.

    Adrian paused in his ranting, mid-sentence about how in the hell did Nightmare even have access to Agent N and how she was able to take down Frostbite’s entire team alone. Another thing that could trace itself back to Nova.

    Adrian looked down at their hands, mouth open slightly. He stopped pacing, finally, too surprised by her confidant gesture. Nova took the opportunity and pressed her luck more, covering the back of his hand with her other one, sandwiching his together between hers. She squeezed his hand softly with the one holding his palm and stroked his knuckles with the thumb on her other hand. She gazed up at him, trying to feign a worried face. She batted her eyelashes, opened her eyes a little wider, raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips. It wasn’t hard, as she was truly worried about him. About his obsession, his lack of sleep, his constant Nightmare this and Nightmare that. He was worrying himself sick over the same person he was letting hold his hand.

    “You need to stop, Adrian.” Nova insisted. “You’ve been going on about Nightmare ever since we set foot in here, and you’ve been obsessing over her ever since that night.” He flinched, down casting his eyes.

    “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “I have to find her, Nova. She tried to-”

    “I know.” Nova sighed, a little frustrated. She pushed down the negativity, though, and stopped her stroking to stand and nudge his chin so he would look at her. He jumped at the contact.  “You need to get your mind off of her.”

    Adrian tugged her closer, making Nova’s heart race. She ignored it. Mostly. “I’ve tried. It’s just...it’s hard to after what she did.”

    “I know,” Nova repeated. They were inches apart. For all Nova cared, they could be the only two people in that room. In the entire world. “How do you think I felt after my family..you know..” she trailed off, then shook her head. “I was angry for a long time, Adrian. I’m still angry, but there’s nothing I can do about it to change what happened.” When his eyes started to drift away from hers again, she placed a desperate hand on his chest. “Adrian, Max is still here. He was very lucky.”

    Adrian stared at her for so long that she shifted, feeling his eyes bore into her, making her feel bare. Then, he closed his eyes, let out a slow breath, and pulled the hand that was still holding his to his lips. The soft press of his kiss on the back of her hand was so intimate that it sent a shock through Nova’s body. She felt her cheeks light up. He held her hand there for a second, then pulled back, letting their entwined hands fall between them. She instantly missed the contact, even though they were still holding one another.

    “You’re right,” he finally said, with a slight nod.

    Nova pressed a smile to her lips. It was tight. “I have an idea: let’s take a walk. Maybe go to the park? They clearly don’t need us here right now if we haven’t been called in yet, and if they do, we’ll get a message through our communication bands.”

    Adrian seemed to ponder it for a moment, then nodded again, this time firmly. “Alright. Should we tell Oscar and Ruby, or should we let them continue their bickering?”

    They both glanced over at the pair, who had moved onto another arcade game that Nova was unfamiliar to. It looked like some sort of racing game, with seats and steering wheels. Ruby was trying to mess Oscar up by swiping at his steering wheel, causing his car to veer off-course. He cursed her and swatted at her hand, shoving her away, although not harshly. Ruby cackled, trying to do it again while controlling her own wheel, but Oscar was able to keep her away this time. He kept glancing at her, and if it was out of precaution or affection or both, Nova had no clue. She shook her head.

    “I think they need some fresh air, too.”

    Nova and Adrian trailed behind Oscar and Ruby, hand in hand. Oscar must’ve made a bad joke, because he threw his head back laughing while Ruby groaned, face palming. Nova caught a glimpse of a smile on her face, however. She also noticed Oscar’s failed attempts to reach for her hand, as Ruby was animated and used her hands whenever she spoke. A pang of sympathy went through Nova for Oscar.

    “When are they going to get together,” Nova said under her breath, shooting a smile to Adrian. He chuckled and shook his head.

    “When they decide to fess up to each other.”

    “So never?”

    “Probably.”

    Nova shook her head, watching the two in front of them. She thought back to her conversation with Oscar back at the gala. He really was charming, despite, well, everything he did. And it was clear that Ruby liked him back; he was just too in-denial to see it.

    A breeze blew through, sending goosebumps down Nova’s arm. The weather was starting to turn, becoming chillier every day. The issued Renegade’s uniform wasn’t exactly made with material for winter. Nightmare’s disguise would’ve kept her warm, she thought smugly.

    Ahead, Oscar and Ruby slowed to a stop and looked behind them, waiting for Nova and Adrian to catch up. When they did, the four of them started walking again.

    “Have either of you heard anything from Danna?” Ruby asked, worry lacing her tone. “Oscar and I were just discussing that, and how her swarm won’t fair well with this weather.”

    Adrian shook his head. “No. Nothing since the gala, when I last messaged her.”

    “Yeah, we haven’t heard anything since we saw her butterflies at the cathedral.” Ruby shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

    Nova opened her mouth, about to feign having not seen her either, when a young woman with a crying baby in her arms rushed over to them. The group stopped, all four surprised.

    “Excuse me,” the woman said, clearly stressed. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but there are no other mother’s around, and I saw the uniforms. Can you watch my daughter for me for like five minutes? My son just ran off and I can’t catch him while holding her.”

    Adrian was the first to speak. “Of course, ma’am.” He smiled at her pleasantly. “Do you need any help finding your son?”

    Relief swept over the woman’s features. “No, I know where he’s going, I just need to grab him before he gets there or I’ll be in huge trouble. He’s done this dozens of times that I know his route and how fast he goes, so it won’t take long.” She hurried forward and pushed the baby into Adrian’s arms, forcing him to let go of Nova’s hand, much to her dismay. “Thank you so much! I’ll be back in a minute!” The woman waved a hand over her shoulder as she dashed off in mad pursuit of her rogue son, shouting his name.

    Adrian looked to Nova, then to Ruby, then Oscar, panic written all over his face. His shoulders were stiff, and he held the baby at a distance from himself, awkward. The baby continued to cry, harder than before now that she was separated from her mother.

    “Help,” was all Adrian said. Nova’s mouth twitched, and she bit her cheek to keep from smiling. It was too comical.

    Oscar was less nice about keeping it in, and bust out laughing. Adrian glared at him. Ruby rolled her eyes and stepped forward, muttering about how useless boys were. She took the baby from Adrian’s arms without question, cradling her close to her chest and making shushing sounds. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, rocking back and forth.

    The baby continued to cry, fisting her hands against Ruby’s uniform.

    After a minute, Ruby looked up with the same panicked expression as Adrian. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she stammered out, “I used to hold my brothers all the time when they were babies, and I could usually get them to stop crying. Oscar?”

    Oscar backed up, eyes wide. “Hell no. I love kids as much as anyone, but me holding a baby is bad luck.”

    Ruby groaned, shifting the infant in her arms.

    Nova had an idea. A terrible idea, really, but one that would work. She debated for a bit, arms crossed and biting her lip, then stepped forward, arms outstretched.

    “Give her to me.” She beckoned for Ruby to place the crying child in her arms. Ruby looked at Nova as if she had grown a second head. Adrian and Oscar held similar gazes.

    Nova’s face reddened at the staring. Her jaw tightened in defense. “What? I had a baby sister. I knew how to calm her better than my parents.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She spent multiple nights using her power on Evie to keep her quiet in their tiny apartment.

    Ruby hesitated, then sighed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to do. She placed the baby in Nova’s waiting arms, unfurling her little fists from her uniform. Nova held the infant close to her chest, cradling her beneath the head. Her pudgy face was scrunched up and scarlet from crying. It didn’t look like she would be giving up anytime soon, either.

    Nova glanced at the others, who were watching her closely. With a great sigh, and a small tinge of regret for what she was about to do, Nova cleared her throat. Her Papà used to sing her and Evie to sleep when they were having rough nights. She distinctly remembered one lullaby that always got her to fall asleep quickly. And if that didn’t work on this baby, well, she had her power.

    Reluctantly, Nova opened her mouth, and sang.

“Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?

Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?”

    Out of the corner of her eye, Nova saw Oscar’s jaw drop. He elbowed Adrian roughly, whispering. Blushing furiously, Nova turned her back to them, swaying from side to side to the rhythm of the song.

“Se lo dò alla befana

se lo tiene una settimana

Se lo dò all’uomo nero

se lo tiene un anno intero.”

    The crying from the baby had stopped, thankfully, and the little girl’s eyes were open. Their deep brown orbs stared up at Nova in wonder, mouth open. Nova cracked a small smile, sad, as she thought of Evie.

“Se lo dò al lupo bianco

se lo tiene tanto tanto

Ninna nanna, nanna fate

Il mio bimbo addormentate.”

     The infant did not close her eyes as Nova had hoped. Instead, she reached up and tugged at Nova’s hair. Nova ignored this, remembering that Evie used to do the same thing. She started the lullaby again, doing a little dance now. She kept her back to her teammates, not daring to look at them. When she got near the end of the song, she let her power flow through her gently, like with Evie. She stroked the baby’s soft curls, smiling at her as the baby’s eyes grew droopy, then closed. The baby girl relaxed instantly, curling into Nova. Nova hummed the lullaby, pretending that she was still trying to get the baby to fall asleep as she turned to face three wide eyed Renegades, mouths opening and closing like fish out of water. She avoided their gazes, continuing to hum and rock and look at the baby’s features. The baby was pretty adorable when she wasn’t screaming her head off.

    “Thank you so much!” Nova looked up to see the mother, now sweaty and out of breath, coming towards them with a squirming toddler beside her. Nova could see how white the woman’s hands were from holding her son so tightly. He looked very proud of himself, mischief in his eyes. “Oh my goodness, you got her to fall asleep?” The mother gaped at Nova, then glanced down at her child, still fast asleep in Nova’s arms.

    Nova laughed nervously. “Um, yeah. I sang to her and she just passed out. I used to sing to my little sister all the time when she was a baby. She was always crying, and my parent’s could never get her to sleep. But, whenever I held her, she would fall asleep almost immediately.” A partial lie, but the stranger didn’t need to know that.

    “She hates going to sleep!” the woman exclaimed, still staring at her baby in wonder. “It takes me hours to get her to even close her eyes. You have a true gift!” She turned her attention to her son, made him promise to not run away again, let go of his hand, and took her daughter from Nova, slowly to avoid waking her. “If you ever need some extra money, I would love to have you as a babysitter.”

    Nova’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously. “Oh! Um...I would love to, but...I..I’m already so busy with Renegade work and my studies and things at home.” She smiled sheepishly. “But thank you for the offer.”

    The woman’s expression fell for a moment, and Nova felt bad. But what was she to do? Nightmare becoming a babysitter was the last thing Nova needed, even if she could bring in some money for the Anarchists.

    “Well, okay. If you change your mind, my name is Liliana Hemmings. I walk through this park every day around this time, so feel free to come find me.” She smiled brightly then at all four of them, gratitude written across her features. “Thank you again so much for the help. It’s always good to know we can count on the Renegades. Have a nice day!” She waved to the four of them, and they all said their goodbyes. Nova bit her lip in irritation at her comment. No one should count on the Renegades. They only brought disappointment.

    Oscar whistled loudly, moving forward to clap an arm around Nova’s shoulders, which she pushed away instantly. He snorted, unbothered. “Well, would you look at that? Our vicious and antisocial little Nova not only knows how to rock a baby, but she can sing too!” Nova glared at him, then cast her eyes downward. When she didn’t reply, Oscar continued. “And did you guys hear that vibrato? I say she’s a solid soprano.”

    “Shut up, Oscar.” Nova rolled her eyes, annoyed, yet trying to keep a smile from blooming on her face.

    “No, but seriously, where did you learn all of that, Nova?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, amused.

    Nova shrugged, shrinking under so much attention. “My dad used to sing all the time in Italian. And like I already said, I used to help put my sister to sleep all the time because my parents always had a hard time.”

    They seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then, all of their communication bands went off.

    “Looks like they need us.” Ruby beckoned them. “C’mon, let’s head back.” She and Oscar started walking, and Nova was thankful, for the first and last time in history, for the Renegades for saving her from further embarrassment. She started to follow behind Oscar and Ruby, but was pulled back by Adrian. There was a teasing smile on his face that burned her cheeks, yet she still allowed him to pull her against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist confidently. Through their uniforms, she could feel his heart beating against hers.

    “You have a beautiful voice,” he murmured, moving a hand to cup her cheek. His hand was cool against its heat. “I had no idea you could sing.”

    “Oh, we’re being Mr. Suave now, are we?” Nova tried to keep a neutral voice, but she couldn’t hide the shaking in her tone. Adrian grinned, much to her frustration, pleased at the not-compliment. The hand still at her waist squeezed, and she bit her lip to keep from gasping. Her arms remained at her side, balled into fists. She would not be drawn into his antics.

    “I’m feeling much better because of you, Nova. I wanted to thank you.” His voice turned sincere, and he pulled her closer, tilting his head down. Nova’s eyes betrayed her, flitting down to his lips. She glanced back up at him.

    “You’re welcome,” she said, although it came out hoarse. She could feel Adrian’s breath on her chin. Unable to control herself anymore, Nova closed the space between them, pressing her lips against his. He grinned and returned the kiss, deepening it slightly.

    “We’re in public.” She pulled back slightly, just to have Adrian chase after her lips.

    “And?” He moved both his hands now to cup her face, kissing her tenderly. Nova wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair. She could go on like this forever, wrapped in Adrian’s warm embrace, cuddling, kissing, enjoying every second life had to offer.

    And then Oscar had to ruin it.

    “Ay, lovebirds!” he yelled, almost twenty feet away. The people around them turned their attention to Nova and Adrian. Nova pulled back instantly, but Adrian leaned in for one final peck, lingering a second too long for Oscar’s liking. “Can you keep your faces apart for two seconds or am I gonna have to come over there?” Nova turned, glaring. She wanted to slap that smug smile from Oscar’s face. Next to him, Ruby held her face in her hands, probably embarrassed for Nova and Adrian.

    “We’re coming!” Adrian called back, tugging at Nova’s hand.

Not two (2) days later, in the lounge before a night patrol:

    “You guys remember that time Nova showed her soft side by singing in Italian for a baby in public?”

    “Oscar if you don’t shut up now I will throw this pillow at you.”