#and gave her amnesia OUCH

[jessekestrel]

Stormcatcher is a communist

That's it. That's the post. He's a class-conscious dude :) don't mind my crazed rambling about my man in the tags. I refuse to listen to official lore about him basically being a late-stage capitalist slave driver. It doesn't exist in my mind :D

[justsomestoicguy]

Holy Sh*t

"So…"

I begin, unsure if I want to continue.

"You're telling me that I'm Scourge?"

I look at Stain for confirmation, half expecting him to laugh and say it's all a joke (no matter how out of character that is for him). 

But he just nods, his expression as serious as ever. 

"...And you knew that because my first reaction to seeing you was fear?"

Again, a nod.

I stare at him, completely at a loss. 

Scourge? Me? The vigilante I cursed for taking down All For One? 

The very same person who effectively invalidated my purpose in this world before I even got the chance to live it?

Damn. If that isn't some cosmic irony.

"Master told me that if I ever met someone who feared me from a place of familiarity, then that person would be her," Stain explains, his voice calm. 

"And you, Akako Ran, looked at me with that exact fear."

Yeesh, past me sure was smart. 

Using the fact that I know Stain from my plot knowledge in my—our?—first life and using that as a failsafe in case of amnesia or reincarnation or whatever this mess is. 

But it also means my former self knew enough to prepare for something like this. 

How did she—no, how did I know this was going to happen?

I can't even remember anything about being Scourge! The name, the deeds, the legacy—it's all a big blank. 

My memory is already as confusing as a foreign call center, with pieces from this life and my first life scattered everywhere. 

And now, apparently, I have a third life—one I don't even remember experiencing. 

What the hell, brain?!

"Okay, so then, why are you telling me this?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from the existential crisis brewing in my head. "Is it because you need something from me? Like, a mission or something?"

I hope so. 

I really, really hope so. 

Maybe this could be my new purpose. Maybe, just maybe, there's something crucial that only I can do, something that needs Scourge's reincarnation. Something that justifies my existence in this world beyond being a random nobody in an anime I used to watch.

Like, yeah, sure I've made up my mind to become an underground hero after my first-ever crisis, but that was more of a fallback plan.

I definitely prefer it if I could be something more than just another hero.

Unfortunately (and hurtfully so), Stain shakes his head, crushing all of my hopes. "No." Ouch.

"My purpose here is simple. Master wanted to ensure that you live the best life you can, whatever that may be. The Vigilante Ops is ready and willing to provide you with the resources and support you need."

My heart sinks. "So, what you're saying is... I should just live a quiet life?" The words taste bitter on my tongue. 

A quiet life? Is that what my past self wanted for me? A mundane, ordinary existence, when I could have had the thrill of being a legend like her?

Stain nods, his expression gentle. "Yes. The world no longer needs Scourge. You've already done more than enough. Now, you can live the life you've never had—a normal, happy one."

The words hit me harder than they should. I should be relieved, right? A quiet life sounds nice, peaceful even. But it feels like a punch to the gut. 

First, this mysterious past self of mine strips me of any grand purpose by taking down the final boss, and now, I'm being told to settle down and live quietly?

It's infuriating. Who gave Scourge—me—the right to decide that? Just because she wanted to live a different life doesn't mean that I do. 

I haven't even had a chance to experience that thrill, that sense of purpose. How can I be content with a quiet life when I know there's something more out there?

But I don't voice any of this. Instead, I fix my gaze on Stain, determined to find out more about this life I supposedly lived. "What exactly do you know about me—or rather, about Scourge?"

Stain hesitates, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Master confided in me that she had lived multiple lives. Two before her time, and now four counting your current one."

…

Four?

FOUR?!

He's saying that there was another life between my original life and my life as Scourge?!

"You're sh*tting on me," I remark in disbelief. 

No way. No way I've had two other lives I don't remember in the slightest.

Stain's demeanor turns serious. "I would never lie to my master."

I gulp at that.

"What… what even was our relationship in the past?" I ask hesitantly.

To think the Stain calls me Master of all things.

Stain's features soften. "Master saved me from a life of darkness. Taught me how to stand up for my values without crossing a certain line."

Like kill?

I inwardly snort.

How did past me even manage to change his intense ideology? Strike when Stain first got exposed to hero society?

Probably.

I furrow my brows, eyes trailing toward Stain's face.

He's not even noseless now.

Meaning he didn't have his fight with Knuckleduster.

I exhaled loudly.

Damn it!

Life would be so much easier if more pictures of the VHV incident existed!

I could've learned more about the Vigilante Ops, and more importantly, their members.

It's why it came as such a shock to see Stain, of all people, standing in front of Scourge's statue.

But of course, most records from that time just had to be purged out of the internet, leaving me clueless about which vigilantes had been involved aside from Scourge.

If Stain's in the Vigilante Ops, who else might be? 

Could Knuckleduster be in there too? Is that why their scuffle didn't happen? Or is he running around some other part of Japan, busting skulls and staying out of sight?

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

I need to focus. 

This isn't the time to get lost in thoughts about shadowy organizations or the hypothetical membership of retired vigilantes. 

Right now, the important thing is to figure out how much Stain actually knows about me—about Scourge, about everything.

If Scourge told him about her past lives, did she also tell him about our original world? Did she tell him that he's a fictional character from some random guy's imagination, living in a world designed for entertainment?

My gaze meets Stain's, searching for any clues in them. 

He's watching me intently, like he's waiting for me to say something. 

I take a deep breath.

Yeah, It's time to talk.

"Okay…" I start, already regretting my choice. "And did Scourge mention anything about the future? About how she knew what was going to happen?" 

Stain's expression grows heavier, if that's even possible. "Master told me she had a quirk that allowed her to foresee events. That's how she was able to act so decisively, to take down All For One before he reached his prime."

…

Pfft—

I almost laugh at that. 

A quirk? Sure, let's call it that. Much easier than explaining that we used to live in a world where My Hero Academia was just a TV show and manga series. 

But at least now I know what kind of story she spun for him. It makes sense, in a twisted way. A convenient excuse for having knowledge of future events without raising too many questions.

"...Though."

Stain's quiet voice grabs my attention.

"She didn't tell me that she'd sacrifice herself just to do it," he mutters more to himself than to me.

Oh.

Oh, damn.

A pang of guilt hits me. 

Sacrifice. That's a heavy word.

"Sorry," I muster, not knowing what else to say.

Stain shook his head. "Don't apologize. Master did what she had to do, and I endlessly respect her for it," he spoke solemnly, a tender smile creasing his face.

I fidget uncomfortably, looking down.

"Were, um, were we close?" I continue.

Stain took a while to reply. 

"I'd like to think that we were."

Geh—not the response I was expecting.

That's just sad, man…

I should, uh, try and lift the mood.

Yeah.

"Hey, I'm sure you were important to me too," I reassure, waving my hands disarmingly. "I mean, if past me trusted you enough to tell you about her past lives, I'm sure she did care for you just as much as you did for her."

Stain shrugs lightly. "Master was always private about her past lives. She never exposed more than she needed to."

Damn.

That, that… sucks.

But hey! Maybe she did that to avoid dropping the massive bombshell that is the nature of our supposed-to-be-fictional world.

That would've opened up a whole new can of worms that neither Stain nor I are ready to deal with. 

But—this also means I have no idea how much of Scourge's life was a lie, or how much of it was something she fabricated to fit the narrative she needed. 

Gargh, curse this infernal universe!

"All I want to do now is honor her mission and wishes."

I snap out of my stupor to peer at Stain, his demeanor shifting from imposing to something almost—protective?

"She wanted to make sure that if she ever reincarnated again, her new self wouldn't feel pressured to follow in her footsteps. That you'd have the freedom to choose your own path."

…And there it is again. 

The push for a quiet life, a normal life. 

But the more I hear it, the more it feels like a cage rather than a gift. 

This isn't what I want. I don't even know what I want yet, but it sure as hell isn't this sanitized version of happiness they're offering me. 

I have to know more, to explore what's out there, to see if there's a place for me in this world beyond just existing quietly.

With a sigh, I steel myself. 

This conversation isn't giving me all the answers I need, but it's at least clarifying one thing: I need to delve deeper. I need to understand who Scourge was, and by extension, who I am now. 

And to do that…

I stare at Stain, a decision solidifying in my mind. 

"Hey," I call out to him.

Stain glances at me.

Steadying my gaze, I open my mouth.

"I want to join the Vigilante Ops."

—

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

[goat-and-a-pig]

Chapter 11

Stan coughed up water. A lot of water. When he stopped hacking enough to breathe, he called out, “Icarus?” He gasped. “Mabel? *cough* Are you alright?” They sat up. “Yeah,” said Icarus while grabbing Stan’s hand.

“Ouch! Hey! Quit that! Tend to your own wounds!” Stan winced. His palm stung. He couldn’t imagine how dirty that water was- it was probably already infected. He groaned. This will take forever to heal properly- “Hey, hey, don’t freak out, just come over here with me. I can help.” Icarus motioned toward a log. Stan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” He scowled and followed him to the log.

“Please… Whatever you do, DON’T FREAK OUT. This is… well, er, not exactly normal but… Ugh, whatever. Just don’t freak out, please.” Huh??? Is this what it’s like to be in his brain??? Stan was getting weirded out, between Icarus’ broken speech and Mabel’s creepily calm face. “You gonna kiss me or something?” Mabel choked. Icarus chuckled. “No.” He grabbed Stan’s hand and began to chant.

“A-X-O-L-O-T-L!

This human has been hurt!

I invoke the ancient power that he may be healed!”

Icarus’ eye glowed brightly and Stan’s hand felt warmish- although, that could have been from Icarus’ sweaty palms. Icarus released Stan’s hand. He looked at it.

It was healed.

No scar, no blood, no nothing!

Stan was one hundred percent freaking out. He opened his mouth to scream, but Icarus interrupted his panic. “Don’t freak out! This is just another side effect of mutation. It’s normal. Don’t freak out about it.” Stan gave him a dirty look and said, “That is literally the fourth time you’ve said that in the past ten minutes.” His voice rose on each word, so he cleared his throat and said calmly, “Let’s just set up camp already, it’s late out.”

Icarus looked at the sky in surprise. “Oh!” Stan snorted. “What, does the sun not shine where you li- Ohhhhhhh.” Icarus looked down. Yikes, is he crying? I don’t remember he didn’t seeing a sun or moon in that weird place. Icarus must just make up a bedtime. Stan grimaced. “Oh, um- Sorry. I didn’t think about-” The fact you don’t remember what it’s like to live on Earth? Good grief, I’m terrible at this. Icarus held up a hand. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s obvious that I’m on the wrong schedule after thirty years and it’s obvious that I don’t remember how to set up camp…” He looked upset. Which he definitely is! He scrambled to make up for it. “C’mon, he said casually. “I’ll show you how.”

Icarus smiled.

_____

Stan sighed contentedly. He looked over at Icarus and Mabel. “You good?” He asked. He still felt guilty about what he’d said. “So… Stanley Filbrick Pines, huh?” Icarus said, testing out the name. Stan groaned jokingly. “Yep, that’s me. And before you ask, I’ll save you the sob story. I grew up with my family in… a financially stable background. Flash forward, me and my brother are almost eighteen, my brother is one step away from inheriting something big, and I screw it all up.” Stan shook his head to clear his thoughts- now was not the time for a flashback. “My family kicked me out and I’ve been on the run ever since.”

“And your twin’s name was…” Icarus prompted softly. Stan closed his eyes and tried not to cry. “Ford. Stanford Filbrick Pines. Isn’t that awful, to name twins pretty much the exact same thing?” He sniffed. No, I am NOT going to cry in front of him. “Ugh, I got pollen in my eye. I’m gonna go grab some firewood,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey Stan?” Mabel piped up. “Can I ask you-”

“Yeah, sure, you can come along, whatever,” Stan spoke over her. “Okay,” Mabel replied.

Stan stalked off into the forest, wishing that he had amnesia.

[wakanai]

i know oda is the blorbo of all time if im remembering correctly, but what's your top 5 bungo favs?

AAAAAA

omygosh!! An ask from you??

Sure!! Hmm.. tbh besides Oda, I haven't really thought about it that much. But I'll think hold on

******************** (pending) *******

5 bungo favs (besides Oda 🤭)

BEAST Atsushi

: ugh. something about how he is literally how Atsushi would be like if Atsushi was in the PM. There's just something that attracts me to him. Like most characters in BSD, he isn't evil and doesn't enjoy the things he does. He's deeply traumatized. He has a shy-kind personality but is placed in the PM where he's made to be a murderer. Interestingly, he isn't as obsessed with BEAST Dazai's approval as Akutagawa was with Canon Dazai (maybe bc Dazai liked Atsushi more? idk..) But BEAST Atsushi has sm going for him and I'm curious about his life after BEAST. I'd like to see more of it ❤️ (don't even get me started on the fanarts of BEAST Atsushi meeting lit. anyone in the Canon world).

2. Verlaine

: This bad boy can fit so much trauma inside him. What makes humans human? What makes him worthy of human dignity when he's just a bunch of codes? Honestly his thoughts and existential crisis is tragic. The fact that he wanted to raise chuuya in the countryside too 😭 and how he helped Chuuya save the world because deep down he knew one person who he thought deserved to live. How he hasn't moved on from said person. How he trains PM assasins to become weapons for the Port Mafia even though he's gone through the same thing. How he (both metaphorically and physically) isn't in the light because he's literally been rotting in a basement for 6 years. No friends. No family. Nothing outside that interests him. With no purpose other than teaching because Rimbaud used to teach too. No one in the mafia can reach him emotionally. He could be like BEAST Dazai tbh. I can see it. Except rimbaud is dead so Verlaine just decided to.. stay in a basement and rot. Someone bring him out of there please 😭😭

(also in another version of BSD I thought of in my head, I gave him a sort of backstory so that increased my personal attachment lol)

And speaking of the guy Verlaine misses...

3. Rimbaud

: This guy... has so much love to give. Idk much about his past but he was a government spy. As I've seen others mention, He may have had to abandon family members for his job. By the time he met Verlaine, he must have been so lonely that he decided to pour all his love into this one partner whom he intended to be with forever. So. Dang. Selfless. Got betrayed by Verlaine. Still went to hell and back for him. Also Verlaine disliked him while he was still alive so there must have been so many moments where he got hurt by Verlaine (like that one birthday gift 😭) but he still kept trying to be a good friend and doing everything to make Verlaine happy. Even when he got amnesia, Verlaine was the one thing he remembered. He didn't even expect Verlaine to apologize!!! Like?? Instead HE was the one who apologized for not understanding Verlaine. He held no grudges whatsoever. My gosh. That's true love right there. He gave Verlaine his all and expected nothing in return. Even when Verlaine betrayed him or didn't appreciate him or was mean to him, he cared sm. Even in his dying moments, his main concern was Verlaine. ouch.

Besides that, he's VERY cool. His ability slays (literally) and his long black hair is just 😫✨

Rimbaud should've picked me instead. I would've treated him much better than Verlaine did 🤭🙄 /j

4: Mori Ogai

OHHHH~ controversial character alert ‼️

Hehe alright. *cracks knuckles*

I initially didn't have much feelings for Mori. I thought he was a pedo and hated him as a villain (cause of how much of a threat he was and what he did to the characters) but I also didn't think about him a lot. And it was hard for me to grasp his character.

Thankfully though, the BSD fandom made me change my mind after a while 🤭

@the-boss-of-the-port-mafia made this amazing compilation of Mori analyses that made me appreciate him more.

also my tumblr bestie @plinko-mori helped me understand him <3

Long story short, tumblr made me realize 2 things:

a. Mori may not actually be a pedo

b. He's more emotional than he lets on

^^ This description was made by Asagiri himself 😶

anyways onto my rambling abt Mori 😭

I like him. I think he's badass. He's giving anti-hero vibes ✨ and he's also tragic in a way because he's doing what he thinks is best for Yokohama and the PM even if he has to be ruthless about it. At heart, he has good intentions. He hates war. He hates needless violence (he disliked the previous bloodthirsty boss; suggested that his death would leave to even more violence during the guild arc; has not once been shown to enjoy committing violence for kicks and giggles; etc). He manipulated Yosano because he thought it was the optimal solution and would result in them winning. He planned Oda's death because again, it was the optimal solution and would result in the mafia winning + less casualties. If there's a conflict, Mori is the guy who will pick the fastest, most convenient solution even if it means getting his hands dirty. He'll always pick the lesser evil with no hesitation.

While characters like Fitzgerald/Dazai/Junichiro would sacrifice the world to save their loved ones, Mori would sacrifice his feelings/loved ones to save the world (not that he's extremely attached to anyone. this guy is very lonely lol. His face when he told Koyou that she could leave the PM and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it shows just how much he's resigned to losing people.)

That being said, it does hurt him when he loses people.

This post by @hina-has-no-life explains very well his regret towards Dazai and Yosano 😭

In BEAST, he didn't have to play the role of the mafia boss hence, he showed his softer sides and treated Atsushi like a son, even admitting that he regrets not being able to help Dazai.

so..yeah. There's something interesting about a villain who forces himself to ignore his emotions for the sake of doing 'the greater good.'

Yes, Mori is manipulative, makes millions from exploiting people via the PM, has done many bad things, will continue to do bad things --but he does have a heart (even if he constantly ignores it lol).

It's also worth mentioning that apparently the management in Yokohama is so bad, the Port Mafia (a literal criminal org) is the one responsible for keeping the crime rate in check (considering bsd Yokohama gets bombed like every month tho, Ig that checks out 😭)

Anywy. Mori. yeah, he's shades of grey (the darker side). Like Dazai, he can act like a silly uncle sometimes. His backstory is so cool with lots of potential.

From military doctor (holy hell. military doctors in history are usually involved in a LOT of shady things) to an underground doctor (uhm. how and why?) to finally, the boss of the Port Mafia.

so interesting. and so much potential.

The quote, "I must be cruel to be kind" suits him quite well.

About the mafia though - I do wonder what he does being filthy rich 🤭 besides the constant ignoring of emotions, I'm sure he must have some greed or ambition in there. That makes him even more nuanced imo.

Ahhhh

and last but not the least:

Mr. Bungou himself

this man, I-

***if I had to insert every single analysis of this guy that I like, my PC would crash LOL***

I won't elaborate too much since Ikyk hehe 🤭

hmm..

I hated Dazai at first cause I felt he was overrated. While watching the anime, I was annoyed that Dazai seemed to be able to solve everything and that no one could defeat him and that he was presented as this 'untouchable figure' of sorts. I'm like, 'WHY DOES HE KEEP WINNING' as if he's omniscient or something like a deus ex machina 😭

overtime, I grew to like him tho (mostly because of Oda LOL 😂)

BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT

his character is interesting (especially in the LNs. I think he's more nuanced in there than in the anime).

I like how he's clearly hiding his heart from everyone around him. He doesn't open up to anyone. Doesn't reveal his plans unless he deems it necessary. manipulates team mates in certain situations (ex: what he did to aku and atsushi). continues to act like a jerk (messes kunikida's plans for fun; belittles akutagawa, etc.)

He's a manipulative jerk with little empathy for strangers but he's trying to fight for the good side. he's trying to save people. he's trying to be better. (and he is actually being better).

Reminds me a lot like Jouno tbh haha.

he's also a little menace with a dark but goofy side to him.

In the BSD rewrite fic I have in my little head, I like to imagine PM Dazai as somewhat like Mahito from jjk. (In the sense that he's an absolute nightmate, truly the "Demon prodigy" whose "blood is blacker than the mafia" but who also has a very childish feel to him).

Ik it's implied that Dazai did in fact commit atrocities like killing innocent people, killing mafia suboordinates who were subpar, torturing people, etc. but I'd like to see more of that. I'd like to see PM Dazai actually hurting someone the audience cares for and being evil instead of it just being told to us by the narrator/other characters.

Like yes, we got bits of his 'evilness' in SB, Dark Era and BEAST but Ig I just want more of that on focus 🤭

like, don't just tell me 'His blood is blacker than the mafia.'

Make me FEEL chills from reading him; make me think, 'oh this kid is really a devil spawn. I hate him' before moving onto dark era and making me surprised that 'dang. i never thought i could feel bad for this dude.'

idk it's prob just a preference I have. 😅

Same with the PM too. I wish we got to see them doing more of their exploitative work to better understand it when characters describe them as 'the demons of Yokohama' or something along those lines. Cause from season 1-3 (of the anime), they kind of...felt less threatening? Season 4-5 was quite a ride though.

ANYWAY MOVING BACK TO DAZAI

The face of BSD. Mr. Bungou 🤭🤭 I think he's a very cool and interesting character. I want him to cry lol.

I want him to LOSE IT in the main manga before the series ends and see what happens.

RN, he's bottling up a lot and is using different masks. It would be interesting to see him being himself more.

aand that's all hehe 🤭😄

Honourable mentions:

✨Adam ✨

"N" <- interesting because despite being who he is, he apparently genuinely cared for his younger brother, Murase. I just find those kinds of things interesting ig..

******

Also it is with great shame that I confess..

I haven't finished reading Stormbringer yet LOL 🤪🤡🤡

(but I did read some spoilers 😂😭)

so if there are any inaccuracies regarding that, please feel free to correct me <33

******* end ******

RANDOM:

Idk I just wanted to share this cause it's funny and (kind of) related.

But a bsd tiktok account I follow used to be named

Ngh~Chuuya~H-Harder~

(yes the fandom is insane 😂😭)

but recently, they changed it to

Ngh~Beast Atsushi~H-Harder~

and I found that funny for some reason lol.

****

anywy thank you for the ask!!! I hope you liked it hehe 🤭❤️❤️❤️❤️

[amnesia-collection]

AMNESIA Drama CD ~Meido no Kuni no Amnesia~ 3

3rd track out of 8

Translation by gardenofmelodies

Track 3 – Sleeping Beauty

Shin: Ukyo-san, are you okay?

Ukyo: Ah… Huh? What happened to me?

Shin: I don’t know very well too. Just now, you were about to have your head cut by the manager and I felt a dizziness… When I regained my conscience, I was here.

Ukyo: Here is… What is this? A castle… and a forest?

Shin: It seems a forest but… Actually, it’s just roses.

Ukyo: Roses? Maybe it’s the Queen’s garden?

Orion: You’re wrong, Ukyo. This is a different world from the earlier one.

Ukyo: Orion?!

Shin: Hm? Did something happen?

Ukyo: Ah, no, sorry, just talking to myself a bit. Are you saying we jumped to another world again?

Orion: Yes, that’s right. It would’ve be great if we gathered everyone in that world, but since that would be too hard, I decided to shift everyone or else your head would have been cut.

Ukyo: Well, that’s right. I would like to avoid that too.

Shin: This… Seems to be the Sleeping Beauty, probably.

Ukyo: Eh? Ah, yes, that may be so. But then, who imagined this one?

Shin: This is REALLY unpleasant, but I can guess who.

Ukyo: Eh? Who?

Shin: Toma, definitely. These damaging roses, doesn’t make it seem like a fortress? He is the only one who could put so many obstacles to other intruders. Then, I think he is with her in the castle.

Orion: Exactly. The evil wizard Toma is protecting her inside the castle.

Ukyo: Ah, this is the worst. Then, who is the prince? Don’t we need him to wake up the princess?

Orion: There was a prince, but it seems he gave up and retuned to his home, because of the guard of the castle being so strong. It seems the princess has been sleeping for 267 years already.

Ukyo: 267 years?!

Shin: Ah? What?

Ukyo: Ah, umm… I’ve just got the information that the princess has been sleeping for 267 years. Let’s ignore how I got this information, since it’s hard to explain. Then, Toma is protecting the princess.

Shin: “Got the information”… Well, whatever. Then, does it mean Toma has been watching her sleep face for 267 years?

Ukyo: He’s a bit too much devoted, right?

Shin: And it seems no one else in this world.

Ukyo: That’s what it seems…

Shin: Then it’s only us, huh.

Ukyo: A bit like a horror movie, right…

Shin: Anyway, they are inside the castle, right? Toma! If you’re there, show yourself!

Ukyo: No reaction. Well, since we don’t have other choice, let’s find a way to open a path through the rose garden and go in. Hm? Something got caught in my foot- WAAAH!

Shin: Ukyo-san?! What was that? An explosion?!

Ukyo: Ouch…! That was dangerous! If it wasn’t me, someone could have died!

Shin: How can you even stay alive after that?! “Click”?

Ukyo: Shin! Get off there!

Shin: …I-Iron ball! Since when this was a dungeon?!

Ukyo: Getting hit by that would break all of our bones! It’s impossible, we need to head back— A trap?!

Shin: Ukyo-san, are you okay?!

Ukyo: Ah…hah…hah… I’m okay. Somehow… The water stopped.. but.. Waah! This pitfall trap is full with landmines!

Shin: Bombs, landmines and an iron ball… Isn’t this world way too weird?!

Ukyo: This is way too much! The guard is way too strong… It’s obvious why the prince gave up! Aah, shit… What should we do?! We can’t reach the castle like this… Ah, I see, turn to the castle’s side and try to yell “Toma onii-chan!”.

Shin: Definitely no.

Ukyo: But Toma may return to his original self if you do that.

Shin: Even if I was about to die, no.

Ukyo: Even if it’s for her sake?

Shin: Hg…! That is…

Ukyo: I’ll close my ears, so I won’t hear it. If you don’t do that, neither we or her we’ll leave.

Shin: Huh…guh… aaah… Understood. But, please, really don’t hear it.

Ukyo: Of course, I’ll keep with my promise. Then, I’ll be counting on you.

Shin: Damn… Why I have to do this for her sake…? Toma… onii-chaaan!

Toma: ….Shin?

Ukyo: Ah, we got a reaction! You’re amazing, Shin!

Shin: I feel rather disgusted.

Ukyo: Toma! Can you hear our voices here? We came to bring you back! You’re not really from this world! Let’s go back to our original world!

Toma: Original…world…?

Ukyo: Yes! You want to return, right?! To your original self!

Toma: I don’t care about that.

Ukyo: Eh?

Shin: Hey, you…!

Toma: Right now, with just the two of us inside this castle, I’m pretty happy. That’s why I don’t care about my original self. There’s only one thing…

Shin: You can’t remember her name, huh?

Toma: Yes. How did you know?

Shin: There’s no way I couldn’t know when I’m in the same situation. Even though I can remember her perfectly well, the only thing I can’t remember is her name. And this is sticking in my throat. She is inside of the castle there, right? Then, leave with her and come here. Let’s come back to our original world and let’s take her name back.

Toma: I don’t want to leave here. I don’t know what can happen out here. I must protect her.

Shin: Your way of protecting her is way too wrong. Or rather, this is already too bothersome. If you don’t leave and come here, I’ll tell her everything about your high school ex-girlfriend

Toma: Wai- Shi-… H-How did you know that…?!

Orion: Oh, the castle’s doors are opening! Seems like Toma now wants to leave there.

Shin: He should just come out like this right from the start. Making me do unnecessary things…

Ukyo: Then, I’ll meet up with them. Since carrying her alone will be hard.

Shin: Wait, Ukyo-san, beside your foot…!

[reverend-dog]

Timeshare

Barb felt like shit.

Her own fault, she knew. A couple decades ago, Barb partied until dawn, downed copious amounts of alcohol and other festive substances, passed out, then gotten up four hours later and attended a full day of class and work. Now, a six-pack or bottle of wine laid her out, and gave her reason to curse herself the next morning. Like today.

Barb’s phone played a gentle tune that featured birdcalls, and it drove nails into her head. She snaked one hand out from under the covers and tapped the screen to assure the device that she was awake, its job was done, now please shut the fuck up.

Something crunched like an eggshell under her fingertip, and Barb opened one eye to see the digit stabbed all the way through her phone. “Oh,” she groaned, “great.”

Barb levered herself up on one elbow and loosed another groan, then lifted the finger that had killed her phone. The phone lifted with it for a moment, then fell back to the bedside table with a crackle and pop. “Cheap-ass phone,” she muttered.

The floor felt like ice under Barb’s feet when she swung to a sitting position, but the shock helped clear some of the fog from her brain. She lurched to her feet, and her bladder complained about gravity. “Fine,” she muttered, and stumbled to the bathroom. Relief accomplished, she squeezed out some toothpaste and set about scrubbing her teeth, absently aware of her reflection in the mirror.

Then Barb realized her reflection was not brushing its teeth.

“Good morning,” her reflection greeted with a smile.

Barb froze, toothbrush pressed against a gum, mouth gaping, staring at the face in the mirror. At first glance the features matched her own, but small differences crept into view the longer she stared. Not in the shape of nose or line of jaw, but how the smile curved her mouth and the eyes shone with a rakish glint.

“What -- ” Barb started to wonder, then had to inhale quickly to keep the mix of toothpaste and spit from spilling out her mouth. She sucked in too hard, and a glob hit the back of her throat.

“Ooo, bad,” commiserated her reflection as Barb bent down over the sink to spit and cough. “I guess that’s my fault. Sorry.”

Gradually, Barb’s lungs settled down, her nose stopped blowing bubbles, and she could wipe her eyes without them making fresh tears. She lifted her head a notch at a time, daring the reflection to go back to normal.

“Maybe we should start again,” offered the face in the mirror. “You’re not crazy, and I’m not you. How well do you remember last night?”

Barb struggled to reach back through the fog of alcohol-fueled amnesia. The strain exacerbated her headache, and she groaned.

“Ouch!” cried her reflection. “Geez, why do you do that to yourself? Here, let me help.”

A wind blew through Barb’s head. No kidding, that’s how it really felt, a gale that swept away all the pain and bleariness, even the gritty feeling in her eyes. Barb felt like she had just awoken from the sort of sleep she fantasized about from her childhood. The day ahead could throw its worst, she felt ready.

And she remembered last night. A house party, friend of a friend of a coworker. A big old house, goth inside and out. Live DJ, ever-flowing bar, tables set with a full menu of narcotics, stimulants, hallucinogens. Barb recalled the taste of a mushroom on her tongue, washed down with several gulps of mescal. Party games too, that got weirder and weirder as the night went on, eventually culminating in everybody drawing lots for some sort of charades. She pulled the short straw….

“That’s really kind of insulting,” her reflection complained as the memory flitted through Barb’s mind. “The short straw is supposed to be the losing lot.” It snorted. “Makes me wonder if they really knew who they were calling.”

“What… “ Barb fumbled for the right word to express her thoughts, “happened?”

“They didn’t tell you?” The face in the mirror let loose a string of words in a language Barb didn’t know, but recognized as cursing. They broke into English at the end, “...and the rancid goat that rode them through all nine levels!” They sighed. “Ok, explanation. You were guest of honor at a summoning.” The reflection raised placating hands. “Believe me, it was supposed to be consensual!”

Realization stabbed through Barb’s brain. “I’m possessed?” she screeched.

“Guilty,” admitted the reflection, and waved. “Hi. I’m Korotros. I guess it’s okay to tell you my real name, since we got to trust each other. We’re stuck with each other for the time being. But I promise, I’m a really good bodymate!”

“Bodymate?” Barb echoed. “And what do you mean, for the time being? I don’t want to be possessed! Insulting priests and spitting up soup, eww!”

“It won’t be like that, I promise!” Korotros insisted. “I’m not that kind of demon! Think of it as a timeshare. In fact, I’d really like to take this chance to set up a schedule, okay?”

Barb blinked at Korotros. “Schedule?”

Korotros nodded. “Right, for when which of us gets to drive. Now, I know you have a job, so you’ll be in charge during work hours.” They grinned. “I’ve always been a night owl, as you probably guessed from the time when they summoned me. And I won’t want every night, and I promise to never leave you hung over, or anyplace you don’t want to wake up.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Barb interjected, and tapped the palm of one hand on the fingertips of the other, making the shape of a T. “I’m still not sold on this whole possession thing! I mean, what do I get out of it? Why shouldn’t I march right down to the nearest church and have you excommunicated?”

“Exorcised,” Korotros corrected.

“Whatever!” Barb intended to rant further, but managed only a gasp as a fresh wave crashed through her. The earlier one had just erased the symptoms left from last night, leaving her feeling the best she was used to. Barb struggled to put words to this new feeling, and the only one that fit was ‘rebirth.’ Thirty-three years of life left its marks, tiny scars and strains you learn to ignore because they’re there all the time. Now, all those constant aches and strains made themselves known through their farewell. In an instant, Barb felt like a car fresh off the assembly line, everything new and in perfect shape.

“Oooo,” she panted, “ooowow.”

“That’s better,” judged Korotros. “I always insist on my living space being in pristine condition.” They grinned. “Maybe that was a dick move, but I wanted you to get an idea of the benefits I bring to the table for this partnership.”

Barb stared down at herself. She usually slept in the raw, so she had an unimpeded view. No scars, no stretch marks, not a single boil or pimple, everything hung tight and firm with no sag anywhere. Even her mouth, which had begun to sour with leftover toothpaste, tasted better than any mouthwash or mint could achieve. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, my.”

“So,” Korotros prompted. “Shall we discuss terms?”

[abitofangel]

January 2014

I was happy for once. After December 28 and January 1, my life was peaceful and filled with happiness, but being me, happiness is always short lived.

I called up my crush, let’s hide him under the name, Jasper, excitedly. I was so eager to talk to him, and tell him how much I enjoyed December 28. When he picked up my call he asked why I was calling in a tone as if it was the first time we talked. To cut the long story short, he had a case of selective amnesia. He forgot me, everything we talked about, every “date” we went on. poof gone. It made me heartbroken. One day he talks about the possibility of us being in a relationship then the next, he doesn’t even remember his pet name for me. Ouch right? But that’s not the worst part, noooooo, he makes friends with his ex acting like they were good friends after all the terrible things he did to her. Ugh. I guess, it’s better now. For him at least, but him forgetting who I was, pushed me a little to my suicidal line.

I felt so miserable that I got sick. I didn’t have the energy to study, listen to my peers, or even to play games. I just wanted to lie down on my bed and sleep everything away. My birthday was coming up in 3 weeks and I didn’t feel any sort of excitement for it. I talked to my friend, let’s hide him under the name Matt, about my problems, about how my past was haunting me again, about how I wanted to kill myself. I was so near to it too but then that in the latter of my story. I made a mistake of telling him because it made him sympathetic and he took pity on me and said that he liked me. Now this guy admitted to me once before that he did like me, but my suicidal tendencies made him to believe that he was in love with me. Which he wasn’t. Let’s just say that I made several mistakes in a short span of a week, I drank and did things that I knew was wrong, and everything went spiraling down a tube and within the same week, he left. I felt used. So my suicide seemed more appropriate.

Turns out another guy friend of mine, Jacob, not his real name, admitted as well that he was in love with me. Like I would believe him right? So for one week he continuously texted me, while I gave him the cold shoulder. But then my birthday was coming up in a week and texted something so sweet that my heart melted right into his hands. And there I was again! Hooked on to a guy. I made efforts of going to his school in Las Pinas and I came all the way from Manila and then I would go home to Bicutan. If you know those areas you would see how my effort was. On top of it all, I sprained my ankle while walking in my campus. Yup, I am a first class klutz. But even through that injury I still gave my effort to see him because I feel in love. Hard. He gave me his first kiss. But after his intrams, he left me as well. I was reaching my point of no return, yet with every week that passed, I kept clinging on to something that everything will turn out for the best.

Well, the day came. January 23, 2014. It was a Thursday. I hated it. My friends kept saying that it seemed like I resented my birthday. Well, somehow I did because if I hadn’t been born in the first place then I wouldn’t have to be living this life. The day went on as usual. Morning class, lunch, PE, then we attended youth service at Victory U-belt. During worship, I just poured my heart out. I cried like there was no tomorrow. I felt better. Then my friends surprised me with a cupcake which one of them ate. You would think, “What a jerk!” but hey I was feeling better even though he ate it. Yeah sure I was pissed, but I was quick to forgive. Suddenly from the distance, my best friend came out with a mocha roll cake. It was an awesome surprise. It was a first for me and hopefully not the last. I gave some of my friend a mocha icing facial and we had our fun. When I got home, my father bought me a cake too. My grandfather sang me happy birthday and I felt really better. My thoughts of suicide were brushed away again and I prayed that they would never come back again.

[dashielldeveron]

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, “But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

[moon-spirit-yue]

Idea inspired by @incorrectgg. Namaari going through it for this one. Sapphic yearning Namaari series:

Raya, yawning: hey Sisu, what are you doing?

Sisu, waving her talons around: I’m trying to use my magic! I know there’s more I can do but it just isn’t clicking right now

Raya, frowning: aw, that sucks. Anything I can do to help?

Sisu: I don’t think so. The most you can do is just stand there and wait to see if there’s some kind of change in you

Raya, nodding: alright, don’t try anything too crazy. I’m worried how close Namaari is to us by now. It’d be really convenient if she just let us go on our gem heist in peace

Sisu, snorting: yeah it- *gasps as a weird light comes from Raya’s body and enters Sisu’s talons* ....I just did something, didn’t I? Oops, sorry bestie

Raya, rolling her eyes: you do tend to mess up like this a lot, don’t you? Whatever, just don’t be so damn clumsy next time

Sisu, pouting: ouch, what’s up with you? You’re never this harsh! *realization* I just took away all of your positive emotions and memories, didn’t I? Shit, I really wish I remembered I could do that. Ah man, please don’t tell me I gave her partial amnesia 

Raya: the hell are you blabbering about? You’re acting weird

Sisu, laughing nervously: hey, don’t worry about it! Let’s just go before Namaari catches up with us

Raya, frowning: who’s Namaari? Sounds like a binturi

Sisu, mumbling: so I did giver her partial amnesia, but this is fine *speaking normally* well that’s one way to put it! Long story short, she’s been tracking you down for years and is definitely in love with you. Also she sort kinda betrayed you when you guys were 12 so I think she’s feeling extra guilty about it. I’ll tell you the full story on the way but we should keep moving

Raya, groaning: fine. Let’s go

*in Talon about three hours later*

Raya, searching for the gem piece while Sisu accidentally steals half of Talon’s products: sweet hell this place is a dump

Namaari, finding her: Raya, I’ve had enough of this. You will be imprisoned in Fang for theft and destruction of property. Come with me willingly or face the consequences

Raya, squinting at her: do I know you?

Namaari, rolling her eyes: whatever new trick you have up your sleeve, it’s not going to work

Raya, sitting down and starting to eat an apple: look man, I’ve never seen you before in my life, so get the hell away from me

Namaari, getting irritated: I don’t have the patience for this, binturi. You and the gem pieces are coming with me

Raya, scoffing: you really are a broken record, aren’t you? 

Namaari, frowning: it’s pathetic that you have to act like you don’t know me

Raya, furrowing her brows in concentration: wait, I think I do remember you.  Sisu told me about you. You’re Namaari, right?

Namaari, relieved that she’s being kinda cooperative: yes! Thank you! Don’t know what that charade was about but now that it’s over-

Raya, laughing: you seem to be the pathetic one, don’t you think? Only an idiot would try finding a girl that hates her guts. You think I’d actually be able to forgive you after what you’ve done? I may not really remember you, but I’m sure that if it came down to trusting you or death, I’d chose death. And you actually developed feelings for me? Yikes. Better get over that unrequited crush there, princess. Pining is not a good look for you. Though to be fair, I doubt anything could be a good look for you

Namaari, feeling a deep ache in her chest: do you really feel that way?

Sisu, rushing up to them: NO! BAD RAYA! STOP EMOTIONALLY SCARRING YOUR FUTURE WIFE! *waves her talons and watches the light go back into Raya’s chest*

Raya, snapping out of it: toi, that was horrible! I felt like the Druun. I do not want to go through that again so- Namaari how did you find me and why do you look like you’re about to cry?

Namaari, very much on the verge of tears: uhhhhh well you just told me how much you hated me just now so pardon me for feeling a bit hurt

Raya, confused: when did I say that? Why do you even care if I hate you?

Namaari, huffing: one, you said it just now. And two, I’m sorry for falling in love with you okay? I don’t think I have the energy for this feud anymore so go. Run away like you always do-

Raya, pulling her into a hug: I love you too. Whatever I said just now wasn’t actually me, Sisu did a magic thing that basically took away everything positive in my life

Namaari: aww, so I make you happy, don’t I dep la?

Raya, blushing: shut up

Sisu, tearing up: you guys are the cutest! Wait. If I took away positive things in your life why did you remember me?!

Raya, giggling: to be fair, you’ve caused me a lot of grief since I summoned you back, Sisu

Namaari, laughing: c’mon, we have a gem to steal

Raya, eyes sparkling: you’re coming with us?!

Namaari, nodding: of course. I’ll do everything I can to earn your trust back

Raya, kissing her cheek: thanks, binturi. Sorry for whatever it is I said, by the way

Namaari, blushing: anytime, Raya. Also don’t worry about what you said. I’m pretty sure I have thing for mean girls now because you insulting me was actually pretty hot

Sisu, grumbling: I am a divine water dragon and my bestie tells me I’ve given her a lot of trouble since she summoned me? I’m suing the universe for this- 

Taglist: @faithfulwarrior-og @isitbussinjanelle @ratld-sideblog @tigerlillyruiz @anywhere-but-here-plz

[lizacstuff]

SCK / Edser asks - ep 31/32

Asks about episode 31, some discussion of 32 under the cut

Anonymous said: with the past two episodes, i realized, for me at least, it's not so much about it feeling disjointed (31 didn't really feel disjointed to me tbf) but about the lack of edser screentime. when we do have their scenes, they're good! but the last 2 eps haven't had a lot of it which is what's frustrating (more annoying to me than even selin believe it or not). the fragman for next week looks good though.. with serkan losing his shit more and more.. which can only mean good things for us! lol.

Yes, I agree with this. This episode was a lot less disjointed than 30. 30 felt weird. For 31, there wasn’t enough Edser, but I found it leaps and bounds easier to watch than the last two episodes. As for not enough Edser, I was wondering if that was partly about the short shooting week. For episode 31 they only shot 4 days, a couple of paps said that they did that to give Kerem 3 days off last week because his family was visiting from US/Canada. I don’t know if that’s true, but they follow him around so they pry know if the fam is in town or not. Perhaps in doing that, they had to rely more on the second unit and focus on other characters?? Because there was a lot of focus on other characters this episode.

Speaking of other storylines, I do have to say that I’m very relieved that there is an actual reason why Ceren has lost the thread a bit. If she’s off her meds it explains a lot, and I’m thankful that while she tantrumed a lot about Eda and forced herself on someone who wasn’t inviting it with Deniz, she didn’t do anything unforgivable like actively try and hurt Eda. 

Also the Erdem and Leyla scenes were amusing, and my queen Melo can do anything she wants. The only character who actually gives a damn about Eda and Serkan.  

While there wasn’t enough Edser, there was more than a lot of people are giving the episode credit for.  They had several really good scenes in the office with the balloons and the staring and later him questioning her about Deniz. We got jealous Serkan sniffing around Eda and Deniz’s cafe, and a really nice outside Eda’s house scene that got them being kind to each other and really, honestly talking. Then the funny scene inside with everyone thinking they were back together and Aydan freaking out. (we even got Serkan getting a few cathartic slaps!)  The boat scenes were good, but they could have been better. I think they could have given us more and Eda could have been a bit more open with him trying so hard. 

The final scene was a slap in the face and I think sort of tainted the rest of the episode, but without that, I thought there was actual progress made. 

As for the fragman (and the extra scenes released in the VDay video yesterday) I actually have hope for 32 being a turning point. We’ve seen him be curious about her and opening up with her, now I think we’ll see the ye olde sexual attraction hitting him hard. That should be good!  Plus banning love in the office! Vintage jealous Serkan!

Anonymous said: Last week's episode was not my favorite but after this week's, I'm just confused at the writing situation. You could jump from episode 30, to the last minute of episode 31 and you would've seen all you needed to see. It feels like they're wasting potential. Maybe the showrunner knows something we don't about how much time they have but I'm at the "not mad, but very disappointed" phase with how this story is going. And the "Ceren is crazy off her meds" storyline is particularly striking an nerve.

I’m sorry that the Ceren off her meds story is upsetting to you, I can see that. Unfortunately, I really don’t have faith they’ll do it justice. This show has treated some very big issues like agoraphobia, claustrophobia, narcolepsy, panic attacks and lets not forget amnesia and PTSD, at a very superficial level. However, I am glad that they at least gave a plausible reason for Ceren to undergo a behavioral change.  

However, I don’t agree with you that the rest of the episode was pointless. I thought the Edser we did get was very good and Serkan made big strides. He was drawn to Eda, intrigued by her, asking questions, very jealous of Deniz, lying to Selin, getting annoyed at Selin, and meanwhile Eda and Serkan had some nice quite conversations. Remember the man doesn’t know her, but he feels that primal pull towards her and it still terrifies him. Especially now that we’re past her heightened emotions of ep 29, and he’s realizing what a competent professional she is and also caring and sweet, not quite the picture that Selin painted him. 

The problem is the 1 step forward, 2 steps back that they’re having him do.  However, what I’m hoping will happen is that all these experiences, these big steps forward he makes with Eda, before he freaks, gets back under the influence of Selin and jumps backwards, will have a cumulative effect and he’ll take a giant leap forward soon. 

There are so many moments that show his tendency to be carrying and attentive towards Eda (offering to drive Eda home after the yacht, vs telling Selin he’s busy and she can go on ahead so he can sit and think about Eda), the switch has got to flip sooner rather than later for him. 

Anonymous said: So I noticed that "March 20th" is 5 Saturdays from now. I sincerely hope they don't drag this fake engagement out until then

Good GAWD, don’t even say that! LMAO. Honestly, truly, I don’t think we’re going to drag her fake engagement out that long. Really truly. Have I convinced you yet? Have I convinced myself yet? 

That would be way too much. By March 20th I’m expecting them to be sexing each other up! 

Anonymous said: Think I am going to shake off the not so greatness of the last two episodes by thinking about how hot it is going to be watching Serkan try to win Eda back. Because we ended yet another episode with Serkan apparently still having zero interest in putting his engagement on hold and no progress made towards unmasking Selin’s game. Edser scenes were fire always but still too short & too far in between. At this point I think most of us could write a novel about how all over the place the writing is and how little things makes sense but that is just too depressing.

Yes, I think this is very true. IMO they really miscalculated by going with these engagements. They are really wearing on the audience. But I do think you’re right, that them constantly changing writers is a big part of the issue. Also I think it has to do with constantly living on the edge and not knowing how many episodes this show is going to have. I don’t know how any show could have a clear and consistent narrative with that constantly hanging over the creatives heads. It’s an interesting way to do things. 

It is a bit head spinning when you think about how much time on this show they spend with Edser together and how much apart. HOWEVER, I’m a big proponent that from 16-26, they were basically in a romantic relationship the entire time. Even though they weren’t together, they were together, they belonged to each other, they couldn’t leave each other alone, every decision they made was with the other in mind. But I’m one that doesn’t find those episodes as tortuous as some, there are a LOT of good moments and scenes in there. 

Anonymous said: So was Deniz agreeing to work with Selin supposed to be the start of her downfall? Or not? It honestly seems like the show is not even going the route of Selin doing something to mess with his memories anymore and just going to have Serkan flat out choose Eda over Selin but who knows. Only shining light on that front was the fact that Selin & Serkan had very few couple scenes in the last episode.

You are me, I’ve been wondering about this. The last episode sort of made me give up hope that Selin is going to face any repercussions for the disgusting way she has manipulated and brainwashed an amnesia victim.  I mean, she will be heartbroken and will have to slink out of town again, but it’s possible she may not face any blowback from the other characters and that will suck. 

On the bright side (you know I always have to look on the bright side) that means instead of her being unmasked, it will be, as you say, just Serkan, once again, straight up choosing Eda over her. Which is delicious and romantic in it’s own right. Their love once again triumphing over the biggest of odds, with everything stacked against them and people actively working against them and him suffering from a brain injury. That’s big. And I think after the way Serkan has treated Eda, it’s important that he choose and not just have th choice taken from him by Selin being “unmasked.” Though I’m happy if she’s unmasked after he’s already fallen for Eda (which lets be honest is actively happening). 

So there’s a lot of upside to that, to Serkan just choosing, however if that happens and she leaves prior to him regaining his memories, we’ll probably have to suffer through Serkan thanking Selin and apologizing to her and that might make me break whatever screen I’m watching the show on that night. I keep telling myself the writers have to know we need some comeuppance and consequences for Selin, but I’m not sure I trust them to do that. It’s possible she’ll skate again. 

The spoilers (which so far are batting about 50/50, so this is still all grain of salt) said that the last scene of 31 would be “bad” (it was IMO, ouch!) but that it would start the unmasking of Selin. If Deniz is playing Selin (which I think is very possible) then that spoiler cold still be true.  

Maybe Deniz is a straight up a manipulative villain, but it feels like we have enough of that already. Doesn’t he seem smart enough to realize that he’s never going to get Eda through trickery, and would be much better served by championing her best interests instead of employing underhanded tactics to separate Eda/Serkan? So maybe he’ll help humiliate Selin by reveling what she’s doing. Who knows, we shall see. 

Anonymous said: The thing that bothers me the most is serkan's attitude towards eda. When he is alone with her he is vulnerable, attentive to her, listens and tries to find out more about her and their love and the moments they spent together, he tries to remember. And when he is surrounded by other people especially selin he is completely different with her. He is cold, says cruel things to her (the moment he said that he will never marry her seriously serkan?) and he humiliates her constantly. PART1

Really I wonder why this sudden change every time there is surely something we don't know yet. PART2

Yes, there could be something we don’t know that’s contributing to his behavior. 

Though @echoapothecary had a good theory about those spoilers that came out about how Selin was doing something with pills and potential drugging of Serkan... what if the spoiler types got it wrong from call sheets and mistook Ceren with the pills for something Selin was doing? 

Serkan’s behavior could just be his pre-Eda robotic personality terrified of the person he becomes after Eda, combined with Selin’s abusive manipulation and brainwashing, combined with traumatic brain injury, combined with PTSD from the plane crash. That’s a lot to overcome. 

Anonymous said: Poor Eda how much pain can she bear , she is suffering so much and she tries to stay strong and do everything she can to get her serkan back. I feel so much sympathy for her character, she has endured so much but she remains strong in spite of everything. If she decides to give up I wouldn't blame her, she has the right to think about herself for once. It's up to serkan now to open up to her, to show that he cares about her and wants to remember her.

My heart breaks for Eda. However, come on, it’s been like a week. Eda is stronger than than that, she wouldn’t be Eda if she gave up. She knows Serkan is suffering from a brain injury and being manipulated by that barnacle.

Also, remember how we spent episode 20-26 with Eda keeping her distance and controlling everything while Serkan worked his tail off to get her back, his love never wavering. They work because they don’t give up on one another.

Anonymous said: The only way for serkan to react is to feel that he is going to lose eda (she had already tried everything, recreating their moments, kissing him but nothing worked). Eda knows this and that's why she decided to start this game with Deniz, it's her only motivation. To make serkan react, be jealous, feel that he is about to lose her just like in episode 11 to finally confess his feelings. P1/

At first I was totally against this fake engagement but now that I see it from another point of view it seems to me that it is a good idea. Just how could eda have guessed that deniz was not sincere in his intention to help her and just wanted to take advantage of the situation. P2/

Yes, you’re right. Eda knows that Serkan needs to be pushed into a corner to act. That’s what happened the first time. If only we see a reaction like he had the first time around!

What I didn’t like is when Deniz expounded on their “love story” and made up the whole thing about them promising to get married which prompted Serkan to ask Eda if he knew about that. Eda had to say no and I feel like that gives Serkan a mistaken view of their relationship. That they were not in a place where they would have confided such things. It feels like it works against Eda’s objective. So that move puts a mark in the “Deniz is actually a manipulative shit-stain” category. 

I just so badly want one of the other characters (Engin, Leyla) to accuse Serkan of being jealous and for him to respond that he doesn’t get jealous and for them to be all like, “Yeah, maybe you didn’t used to get jealous, but with Eda you were jealous of anything that competed for her attention, including babies and dogs!”

Anonymous said: i love that scene on the boat where serkan stays behind after dismissing selin (when he all too eager to take eda home before btw!!) and he's thinking about their moments together.. it's not flashbacks to his memories of her, but he's thinking about the moments that they've shared the DOES remember right now... boy is he already falling for her all over again

Yes, me too! That was very good moment. He sends his “fiancé” on her way without really even questioning where she’s been and then sits and thinks about another woman. 

He’s got to be close to catching a clue! If only he didn’t emotionally destroy Eda every time he freaks out. 

Anonymous said: i think it's hard for most people to watch serkan be "robot-y" after sooo many episodes of him evolving and growing and being in love with eda.. but i remember back to the first episodes and there are times and moments where he IS harsh with her there too.. they would have a close moment and then the next day he would be ice cold.. the same things happens now.. he has always, even back then, fought himself falling in love until he couldn't any longer and felt like he was actually losing her.

Yes! This is Serkan circa episode 3 when he freaked out and was a total and complete asshole to Eda. It just hurts so much more this time around. Then Eda, and the audience, could let it roll off our backs because they didn’t have history. Now we have 30 episode of history and love and evolution and it is hella painful to go back to that place again. 

However, it is pretty realistic to his character and the guy we met in the beginning. What’s not entirely realistic is him taking refuge in Selin. But I suppose you take the fact that the last thing he remembers they were together, and forget the reason they broke up is that he was never going to marry her, throw in her trauma, manipulation and brainwashing and here we are at engaged!

Anonymous said: you know i never considered how the show must feel if you binge watched all of it.. i started watching from the 1st ep so it's always been this cycle of waiting a loooong week in between, but it must feel different if you've binged it.. i feel like storylines def won't feel as dragged out and therefore you wouldn't feel as frustrated by how long the plot would take.. like we waited 10+ weeks for edser to get back together but now someone can just breeze thru those episodes lol.

Yes, binging would take away a lot of the pain those of us week to week have felt. I binged through episode 9 and it’s been week to week for me every since. Like I said in that other ask, I like week to week, because I like fandom. I like talking to you all in my ask box and I like content, and having time to digest things and I like following the cast and getting spoilers, but the downside is the PAIN. LMAO. 

Anonymous said: wow, they even stole your caption. so sorry this happened to you , i hope they take it down soon! i know you work hard to create these gifs and posts ❤

This is about the gal who reposted my gifset yesterday. Thank you so much, she did delete it. As I say, I’m more than fine with people using the gifs for reactions and meta and stuff like that, but it’s against every bit of tumblr etiquette (and rules) to repost entire sets as your own. Please don’t do that.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1009 - Initial Thoughts

And we are back, happy Good Friday

though every day’s a Good Friday when One Piece is out 1009 is in, and it happens to be my 200th post (admittedly kinda kept that way since I skipped doing a Godzilla vs Kong review)

So let’s get to it

Spoilers for Chapter 1009, Please Also Support the Official Release

Starting with a Color Spread. It was cute, sweet baby Tama in Ringo with the crew, I was curious abut the coat of arms on Franky’s jacket, plus there’s another ‘Zoro consumes something with a blue dragon on it’ - his scabbard isn’t Enma though, it’s Black - and I later realised that Tama is wearing an outfit that isn’t patched up which made me feel warm

But the statues discern me, Five praying statues, four with the Akazaya hats. If this Oda hinting at the deaths? Four Akazaya dying? Tama’s bringing a straw hat to the other so are we death flagging a potential Straw Hat too? Or is it just a non-Akazaya? The first could be Ashura considering that Nami is tying a scarf on it, their fate ‘sealed’, or maybe I’m just looking way too into it

The chapter title isn’t foreboding as well

Of course we were all in the group of ‘Why is Orochi burning Onigashima, is he dumb?’ group, and motive wise he still is, but I did come to a realisation on why this is a problem. Onigashima is in the air, there can’t be much water around to douse the fire

Orochi and the Akazaya finally cross paths for the first time since Oden’s death

Interesting note by MegaForehead, maybe that’s strategic?

I don’t see a missing head from his transformation, though he only used six heads and Orochi has at least 8

Kin’emon is in No Mood

*Insert GTA Wasted scene here*

Kiku far side with one arm just with the most disappointed look ever

And Raizo is next to stay behind to fight with his old rival

I don’t think Orochi is done though; either he still has one more head or they grow back. The Yamata no Orochi couldn’t regenerate heads so it’s the most likely, but we can’t rule out hydra rules

Back to the dome roof though and we learn something new from Law, a strong enough Haki can fight his Shambles, it’s a decent limitation from the OP OP Fruit

A combo attack from two Yonko though is something you need to be scouting for very early guys

Ocean Sovereignty is  definitely no joke...though it didn’t slice off the other horn

Roronoa ‘Let me block a Yonko combo attack’ FUCKING ZORO

Okay I take back the horn comment it’s a different direction

What is this dome’s structural integrity anyway?

Law of course pulls Zoro out of the line of fire because he can’t hold it off forever, Kid with the backhanded compliment though

You hurt one of Luffy’s nakama though, so that always leads to Luffy charging in

Luffy’s got a point, why dodge if it’s not affecting you? That’s how Luffy knows he’s doing something

Kaido did not like that insinuation though, he can still shoot dragon fire in Hybrid form and that’s a big ouch for Ragnarok

So now Zoro is pissed off because you hurt his captain, but he’s gotta stick to the plan

Zeus always getting yoinked, this time put in a box

Then Zoro out here cutting up Prometheus while Killer picks on Napoleon

Could be a telling thing that BM doesn’t even consider saving her homies, just that she finds it a poor strategy

Big ouch for Kid though, right in the smush

But part of the plan, putting all the metal on her to magnet her away, then Law with the boulder

BM’s about to be dumped into the water, now she’s scared

But I would worry about Zoro coughing blood...

I don’t think BM is done right now, I think there’s 5 options that’ll save her right now: Prometheus - reforming because Zoro’s body gave in a little, Kaido - since nobody’s paying attention to him after flattening Luffy, her crew down by the water that have been following the island, she Homifies some of Kaido’s fire clouds or she falls but not in the ocean - instead she crashes on land and it causes her amnesia again.

There were only really 2 parts of this chapter: Orochi vs Akazaya and the Yonko vs Supernova. Neither of which I feel are going as well as it looks. Orochi will probably survive once more which can cause trouble for the lagging behind Raizo. The Supernovas are still struggling with the attrition problem, to cause minor problems for the Yonko they have to wear themselves down hard, to the point where it’s almost pyrrhic. Oda has however done a good job in making sure any doubts about Kaido’s hybrid form have been kept at bay, he is still as vicious and agile as before.

I don’t think Luffy nor Zoro are quite done yet, Luffy is resilient and he’s got his Haki back, he just is mulling over the situation: his attacks hurt Kaido which is why he dodges, so how will he use that to his advantage? As for Zoro, he’s taken a heavy hit yes, if BM is delayed Law might be able to doctor him a little but I don’t fear too much for Zoro because injury seems to bring out the best in him. And blocking Ocean Sovereignty even for a short while is a hugely impressive feat.

No break next week means we might get a quick resolve, or we might just see more Akazaya having to fall behind, King and Queen still don’t have fights and we don’t know where Sanji is right now, Perospero and CP0 have been quiet and if Onigashima does indeed have ocean below it then they’ve not made landfall in Wano’s main island yet (contrary to the mountain we saw in an earlier chapter)

it’s still worth reminding though, we are probably due a tragedy at the end of this act...until Act 4 it’s best not to expect a climax

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 2x08 Get Carter!

This is actually one of my favourite episodes of the season, partly because I really enjoy relationship angst, but mostly because we get multiple characters dealing with their trauma/grief. If we can't get these guys and gals into therapy, at least we get to see them talk (and hug) it out.

Also the best episode title they're had for a while - I have no doubt one of the writers is a fan, and Carter is so named only because they wanted to make this reference. The assassin seeking revenge for a dead brother is wholesale lifted from the plot of the film, and Joseph Kennedy almost has a passing resemblance to Michael Caine's look in that role.

"Get Carter - before Carter gets you!"

Carter is one of the only guest stars they actually will bring back later, and for good reason.

"Why don't you ever kiss my ring?" Vaisey, always making things creepy.

Marian is simmering with unrestrained anger, eager to get into the fight, while Robin is the one advocating for the watch and see approach, and it’s quite the role reversal.

The gang's reaction to her charging off is quite funny though, she knocks John over completely and Djaq throws her hands in the air.

Robin’s now getting a taste of what the rest of the gang have to put up with dealing with his recklessness.

Tying Marian up in the middle of a melee, however, is disgusting behaviour - while Marian was hot-headed throwing herself into the fight (nothing Robin hasn't done before himself), he knows that she can hold her own with a sword and doesn't need protecting. Tying her hands is the absolute worst thing he could have done, because how is she meant to defend herself? I can somewhat understand where Robin is coming from in this episode (even if he goes about it badly), but this is unjustifiable.

Clearly she gave that guard she clanked on the head amnesia, because he never reports back that Marian was fighting with the gang.

“I owe you my life”/“I won’t take it just yet.” Nice.

Scimitar is still missing in action.

Robin doesn’t want Marian to be seen in case she needs to return to the castle, when he’s spent the whole season urging for her to join the gang. I think he realises he made a mistake asking her to flee last episode without giving her time to deal with her grief, and wants to leave her options open. But telling her that she’s not ready to make the decision (about whatever she wants to go back), however correct, is patronising.

There's a fundamental conflict that Marian wants to be treated like a member of the gang, but doesn't want to cede to Robin's authority like the rest of the gang - in turn Robin expects her to follow his orders like the others, but isn't treating her like he would the others either - he would never tie them up to keep them out of a fight, and Marian has every right to pissed at him about it.

Djaq and Much having a little tête-à-tête about Carter - I just really enjoy that they’re often paired together in these gang scenes, they balance/play off each other so well. Just this pure platonic frazzled vs calm vibe.

Much just has this really great memory for faces - he was able to recognise fake Richard last season just from his profile despite wearing a helmet, and now he knows he remembers Carter's face from somewhere (or as it will turn out, Carter's brother).

Much really just does not let up, and I love that about him. "You'll be disappointed though, with uh, today's wound. I mean if you're planning to go back to the Holy Land and, uh, kill him." That not so subtle probing for information and Sam Troughton's delivery is always perfect.

"Wasn't me, was it?" Oh Much, so close.

“The crusty one” - lol

It's not explicit, but implied that Vaisey and Guy believe Edward was the one passing information to Robin, and Marian is cleared of any suspicion (paving the way for her return). Guess Guy never showed the Sheriff that hair dagger after all.

Vaisey is actually giving Guy some really good advice here, albeit laced with his usual cruelty and getting all up in Guy's personal space.

"Grow up Gisborne" - now I don't think it's deliberate on Vaisey's part to invoke a Marian parlance, seeing as she really only says this to Robin (and once to Much), but it's a nice little callback, however unintentional.

Marian asks for an apology (and deserves one), but Robin doubles down and doesn't come out of this exchange well.

Because his delivery is terrible, but he's otherwise quite correct - as skilled as Marian is, she’s used to relying on (and having to worry about) only herself and not work in a team, and look to a single point of command. But both of them have their backs up - they're two strong personalities and neither is going to give ground, reverting to the ideological clashes of season 1, except now in much closer quarters.

Robin's also not used to being challenged in this particular way, and in his frustration is reacting like a captain disciplining a soldier, not a lover helping their partner through their grief. I do wonder if the conversation would have gone differently if they'd been alone.

lol at the gang awkwardly standing around listening to Robin and Marian fight. Djaq trying to busy herself with her mortar and pestle as Robin and Marian argue around her.

A really great scene between Marian and John aka the camp dad. Marian really just needs someone to listen to her and appreciate what she's going through - Robin is too fixated on the dangerous way she's channeling her grief and not even trying to address the root cause. He trying to tell her what to do, not listen to what she actually needs.

On the other hand it's probably better coming from John, a neutral party without the emotional baggage she has with Robin.

Because Robin and Marian are really being driven by completely different motives - Marian by grief and therefore loss, and Robin by trauma and therefore fear. In her sorrow, Marian has lost all her fear of being discovered, in fact she wants to make it know she's with the gang, to finally be free to say which side she's on and fight openly, to make her father's death worthwhile, and can't understand why Robin is trying to stifle that.

"I thought you used to have your own men Little John?" So someone remembers Forrest and Hanton!

After Carter takes down the gang one by one, Robin takes down Carter in three seconds (including catching the long dagger Carter throws at him, and flinging it back) and it's lights out. Can you believe it's the first concussion of the season? (Notwithstanding the multiple head injuries Allan sustained last episode).

While Marian has been known to be punch-happy, the "he'll tell us more if he knows we're willing to hurt him" is just so (intentionally) out of character - it is however somewhat reminiscent of Robin in 1x08, wanting to get his punch and torture on with Guy. However rather than understanding where Marian is coming from, he pushes her away with the "go and cook something" jibe. This almost feels like he was going for familiar banter and miscued, but is also an asshole thing to say. When their positions were reversed in 1x08 Marian at least tried to reason with him - Robin is seems to be ill-equipped to do the same.

Allan just having a little snooze against the castle wall. He really seems defeated and depressed after last episode.

Marian's corset has a pouch to hold a dagger - or at least I hope there is because otherwise it's ouch time.

Leaving Marian at the camp is again a mistake on Robin's part - it excludes and isolates her from the gang, rather than trying to involve her so she can bond with them, engaging in their outreach to the peasants - who she helped as the Nightwatchman, but never really had the opportunity to come to know. It would remind her that they are not just fighting against the Sheriff but for the people, which in her frenzied grief she has perhaps lost sight of.

Instead, Robin's focus is on Carter, who he rather identifies with and so finds it easier to address his motives, and try and change them.

Carter is in many ways Robin’s dark mirror, what he could have become in the Holy Land if he chose a different path. It’s important that this happens right when Robin is backsliding - he’s trying to save his own soul as much as Carter’s.

Okay, let's talk about Marian’s forest gear - fashioned from the outfit she wore when she fled the castle the previous episode - but dear me it's awful. The grey culottes, rather than becoming trousers have now been turned into that corset, and her vest/skirt overlay have now become those trousers. Just baffling.

“I’m good with nuns” followed by Allan straight up knocking the Mother Superior over and stealing her ring is iconic.

Much gives Robin a sword to use going after Carter - still no scimitar.

I really love the confrontation/fight scene between Robin and Carter - it's very well choreographed and written, but we also see the best of Robin's character (after seeing some of the worst earlier).

Carter's brother is called Thomas - Allan's brother was called Tom. Lots of dead brothers in this show (including Djaq's).

The story of Carter's brother Thomas dying because he "stopped listening" and led a raid against orders is a little on the nose, but gives context to Robin’s fear for Marian’s safety in part triggered by his war trauma - someone charging in against orders and then dying in his arms.

But it shows Robin as a man who, even when Thomas' recklessness had cost not only his own life but others of Robin's men, was still moved to instruct the stretcher-bearers to make Thomas the hero, and himself the negligent captain, in order to comfort his family.

The fight is fairly even, and although Robin gets the upper hand in the end, it's only partly his skill - rather his true strength is in reaching the man inside the assassin, and then surrender and allow Carter to take his revenge if that's what he wants, and despite his fear, trust that there is good still in him, and that he can leave behind the life as a killer as Robin has done (tried to do).

This scene is the core of why I really love Robin as a character. He's riddled with PTSD and a reckless bravado, he's at time emotionally stunted with those he loves, makes terrible mistakes and often says the wrong thing, but he also has this great heart and compassion that allows him to reach people, to understand and help them, even at the risk of his own life. He's trying.

"He was a hero - just not on that day" is quite a poignant line.

Much and Djaq together again, just saying.

Robin finally finds out that Roger of Stoke was intercepted. I had assumed he'd figured that out once he knew Allan was a traitor but okay.

Poor Much crying out for Robin's attention - he's got his own trauma from the war and wants to talk about it, to commiserate with Robin about what they went though, but Robin can only cope by not talking about it, not even thinking about it.

Much makes a good point that Robin should have listened to him about recognising Carter, but it comes across as jealously over Marian and Robin misses just how deeply Much carries his hurt.

One of Robin's biggest flaws is that he's overwhelming in his affection, compassion, and understanding for strangers, but takes those he loves for granted - Carter's response to grief was the same as Marian's, but Robin listened to Carter, consoled and comforted him, while keeping Marian at arm's length. Perhaps because strangers don't ask for anything beyond that - it is the granting of kindness, but not the sharing of self. It's the latter Robin truly fears, but what Much and Marian deserve (although tbf Marian has problems with this as well).

“Either I’m part of your gang or I’m not” is a valid point, and Robin's still not happy even when she agrees to stay behind!

But she disobeys him, and saves his life. It's a rite of passage - almost all of the members of the gang have this.

Allan looking rather distressed as Guy is about the chop off Robin's head, and he makes a small movement just before the swing (as does Much).

Guy again pushing Marian past the point of discomfort - she left, wrote him a letter asking him to leave her alone, straight up told him to his face to leave her alone, and still he persists.

Her kissing Guy (to distract him from seeing Much and Will) is really the only time she sends mixed signals, but Guy's whole energy seems to be just to wear her down until she agrees to be with him and it's gross. It is however kind of amusing that he tries to be authoritative and forbid her from leaving, and she immediately walks away.

Robin and Marian are back in playful banter mode, although I wish there had been a deeper discussion (and that Robin had apologised in return). It doesn't quite feel like the conflict between them has been resolved, it really is just a "truce".

But I do like that it's Marian who reaches out to Robin at the end of this episode, because up until this point it's Robin who has been (somewhat) the one making overtures - asking her to join the gang, telling her he needs her, telling her he loves her, while Marian's been more reserved. This feels like her acknowledging that sometimes she needs to take the first step.

This was a long one - but as a I said, I really love this episode!

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.6

Holy Wrath

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)       x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2380

Summary: Things get messier. ‘Natasha Rogers’ is not the only lost soul... and God always works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?

Warnings: mentions of violent deaths and torture, amnesia, swearing, supernatural stuff... and angst with some hope in it ;)

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Two businessmen faced each other in a shadowy room with unpleasantly sterile lights; an attentive eye would recognize they found themselves in a vault due to the heavy door with a golden wheel opening and the drawers lining the walls. A small army of heavily armed men along said cases created an air of being secure as much as in danger.

Just standing in such room put a weight on one’s chest – especially with the terrifying chair with straps and heavy panels ready to ruin human mind, a tranquilized man trapped in it.

Of course, one of the men facing each other, the older looking one, had no reason to feel threatened. He was simply doing business here and the army was at his side. His wrinkled face was scrunched in a grimace though, deeply discontent as he stared at the other man in no less expensive suit, but with an almost friendly glint in his eyes, a bit goofy face with a beard, framed by curly dark hair.

One would feel pressured in such space to begin with, but now, the two ‘businessmen’ built up an atmosphere nearly suffocating, a tension cuttable with a knife. The suspicious calmness of the goofy man was extremely irritating to the other.

Because clearly, they had made a mistake. A really fucking big one. The blond old man clenched his fists as he continued the rather loud conversation with the man who had showed up out of nowhere, claiming to share his interests and offering a lot of money.

Dammit, he should have known better than take an advice from him!

The mess they were in now!

“You said that killing her will bring a stop to the Avengers, because he was sickeningly in love with her,” the blond strained through his teeth, tone dangerous to cover up his growing fear for their mission. “That he will be grieving so much that he won’t be able to fight! He’s fighting like a madman!”

The dark-haired man only smiled, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Perhaps he reacted differently than we expected him to.”

“PERHAPS!!” echoed in the vault madly, making several people flinch. Not the one who was being parroted mockingly and with rage though. “He’s taking down our facilities. One. By. One!”

“Seems like fate wanted it that way. Or, you know, God’s will-“

“I don’t give a damn about God’s will!” the blond sputtered back.

His business partner made a face, his grimace as if saying ‘ouch’. His tone when he spoke up told the same tale. “Well, I…. I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

“Why? Because the holy wrath will be set upon me? Please. There’s no God. And if there was, he sure would like me doing what-”

The blond’s bright blue eyes seemed to bulge sickeningly as his fingers reached for his throat, struggling to take a breath all of sudden, unable to finish his sentence. He stumbled back with an accusing and yet bewildered gaze, causing all of the men draw their weapons and aim them at the supposed enemy.

An enemy who only tilted his head, otherwise not doing a thing. Was he even the cause of the older man choking? He couldn’t, right?  How would he?

“Wh-ah-I..?”

With a flick of a hand, all of the soldiers fell to the ground, unconscious.

The men who were sitting at the monitoring would have seen that it happened all over the facility, hidden in one of the biggest bank in Washington, but they didn’t – they lost consciousness as well.

The goofy man gave his partner a tight-lipped smile, almost patronizing.

“Ah. I don’t know. ‘He who lies in His name shall choke on his own false tongue’ feels pretty real now, doesn’t it?” he exclaimed and repeated the motion that had sent all of the armed men to the floor. He pointed at his hand then, grinning like a kid, genuinely excited. “I love to do that for effect. I don’t have to, a thought would be enough, but the dramatics is exceptional.”

He snapped his fingers then, suddenly standing in front the choking man in more comfortable clothes of jeans and lose plaid shirt. He allowed the other man to breathe in so he wouldn’t pass out; yet, he wouldn’t be able to speak just yet.

“If I had let you continue your… master plan without my good advice, you just might have succeeded,” he hummed, strolling through the sea of sleeping men, careful not to step on any. He shook his head, a parent’s disproval, a disappointed Father regretting not raising his sons better. “But humans, like every other creations, no matter how beautiful, are flawed. Money, oh money… why are you, my children so greedy, so trustful to anyone who offers you a coin….”

“Grzhmchr-“ was the only sound leaving the other man’s throat as he fell to his knees, fear flashing in his eyes along with more and more confusion.

“What can I say. Nobody’s perfect. And strings of fate are funny things when played right… they can orchestrate a lovely sound,” the dark-haired man mused, turning to face his former partner fully. “Have a good day, Director Pierce. The Avengers should find you here at their next mission.”

With the last words spoken, Director Pierce’s grip on his own throat eased and his body fell limp to the ground. The other man smiled when he saw his chest rise and fall periodically, assured none of these men were actually dead. That wasn’t the plan, after all. They needed to face a different kind of justice.

He glanced at the electric chair then and the man lying there, breathing shallow, heart-rate alarmingly low for anyone but him and one more person whose cells had been modified to endure almost anything… even an explosion despite running straight into it.

“Ah, such troubled soul…” the powerful man sighed longingly, his face twisting with sympathy no one had provided to the prisoner not only of war, but also his own body. He walked to him slowly, a healing hand hovering over the man’s forehead. “You lived through more than you should have, my friend. You shall start your healing.”

The soft light shone above the pale skin, gently sweeping in, illuminating the veins running over the surface, disappearing in the messy hairline. The lying man blinked his eyes open and quickly backed into the backrest before his training kicked in.

It was just such a confusing wake-up. He felt too lightheaded, his chest less constricted than usual, missing a crushing weight. His thoughts… flowed in an unfamiliar way – a way he forgot that existed. His instincts screamed to reach for the other man’s throat to grab him and interrogate him, because he wasn’t his master, but… at the same time, he didn’t quite want to do that. No one told him to do so. He felt uneasy and bewildered, yes, but not in danger.

Still, he listened to his training and his hand shot up, only to grasp thin air. The man had already moved away, causing the freshly woken up man blink in surprise and break his bonds instinctively to follow.

But the man, who had forced him to wake up after they had sedated him, smiled at him kindly. It scared the shit out of him, not that he would admit it. Kindness scared him – he wasn’t used to it, not really, not anymore. Whenever someone showed some, it came with a price of a human life. Now, his mind flooded with images of empty eyes, accusing him of doing the wrong thing instead of a right one as he had been promised.

And this man was to blame for these overwhelming sensations, perhaps was responsible of the men on the floor too.

Were those… masters of his… unconscious? Dead? No, no dead, their chest was rising and falling. Only not conscious then. Who the hell was this man?

“Who-what-?” he choked out, glaring at the stranger. Why hadn’t he attacked him yet? Didn’t give him an order, said the words that… would they still do that to him? That… that thing when his body wasn’t quite his? Flip the switch?

The switch… it seemed to be missing now. Where the hell had it gone?

“Sergeant Barnes, welcome back.”

“How- what did you-- who are you?” Barnes finally sat up straight, his head swimming unpleasantly. He overcame it and forced himself to stand.

Holy shit, the world was spinning. Also, it wasn’t any making sense, sending one confusing signal after another. Barnes’ mind was a mess. He remembered this was his name, even though lately he had been called that name rather mockingly, more used to being a soldat.

The only other conscious man held out his hand as if in a comforting gesture.

“Easy. I’m not here to hurt you. But unless you want to be found by the Avengers, by heroes who include your best friend, you better go find your peace and meet them when you’re ready.”

Forget about the world not making sense. Now it went entirely crazy.

Best friend. Steve. Could this man talk about Steve? Avengers? Who the hell were the Avengers? So many images flickered through his head, but it didn’t include any… Avengers. Images of the past, tens of years ago, clear and sharp as they shouldn’t be, an angry tiny blond swaying his fists and wishing to take on the world and then suddenly growing several inches, and all of that mingled with fragments of memories not quite his and yet his only. What year was it anyway?

He grasped on the only thing that seemed to comfort him, ground him, the only thing he was sure of.

“My best friend? It’s… is Steve still alive? It’s been about seventy years-“ Right? “-on and off— how do I know that? Shit, what did I do?”

The empty eyes staring at him. Oh god, the empty eyes... life vanishing under his hands – a flesh one and a metal one – hands crimson with blood…

His breathing picked up, his head pounding with an ache unknown and the other man grimaced again at the agony he saw. He didn’t think he should interfere more though – Barnes needed to deal with this on his own terms.

“Calm down, James. None of that was your fault and until you accept that, you’d better off without them. The Avengers,” he explained, but the soldier would have none of it, the horrifying images, feeling so disgustingly wrong as his little soul had been locked in a mind of a dull servant, crying when taking a life.

“I… the things I did, oh my god-”

“You are not to blame for what they forced you to do. I could make you forget, but that would only complicate things,” the bearded man thought out loud, only brining more chaos with his words. He tried his best to sound soothing. “Try to forgive yourself and when the time is right… you’ll see your friend again.”

“He might be dead by then!” Barnes blurted out, suddenly overtaken by panic. Steve was alive. If this man was right and Steve was alive – how did he know that, who was he, how- Steve. That little punk letting the army experiment on him only to- where was he, how was he, what- “He’s like… what year it is exactly?”

“2013,” came the resigned reply.

“He’s ninety-five. Ninety-five! If he’s still l alive, I have to see him!”

The calmer man held out his hand again when the soldier unmistakably headed to the exit. “He’s been met with nearly same fate, James. Do not worry about his vessel. He is well. I mean… kinda. He’s been on edge, lately.”

Barnes wavered. This man had been gentle with him, as if he wanted to help. He knew way too many things, probably not lying so far. It was all kinds of fishy.

“Alright, I’m gonna ask again. Who are you?” the soldier demanded, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t feel the need to actually attack the man and he didn’t know why and he was afraid and confused and everything hurt, his arm felt heavy despite the muscles adapting ages ago and he had to see Steve if he was still freaking alive and- but after everything he had done--

“You’re not asking the right questions. Go, James. Find your place in the world again and learn about what happened to your friend,” the man advised again patiently. He beckoned to the men on the floor; instinctively, Bucky knew they were bad. Rotten even, and not just because he could suddenly see through all their lies. How, by the way? “Leave these men for the Avengers to find. They are not your problem, I’ll take care of them. You’re free now.”

Bucky Barnes looked around, not assured. His heart was racing, almost as fast as his mind. He had messed up the world, hadn’t he? The least he could so was to deliver these men to… what, police? Justice?

“But-“ he started up defensively, but out of blue, he found himself in a dark alley – and the man was still facing him.

What the fuck got him here and was this man some sort of a… was magic a thing? This couldn’t be result of some serum, right?

“You-“

“Go,” the man asked of him kindly, adding a smile that looked even goofy, in a stark contrast to his serious eyes. “What you saw, that’s how the justice will find them.”

Was this guy a friggin’ mind-reader too?!

“What the hell?!” Bucky just choked out, frantically scanning his surroundings.

Where was he anyway? The noise of today’s world was hurting his ears. What was he supposed to do? He only knew mission for the past decades, his will not even his own, how was he supposed to proceed?

Finding peace as the man had told him wasn’t exactly a precise order – and yet it was, the most difficult order he could remember receiving.

“Goodbye,” said the man for a good measure, walking away and leaving the poor soldier dumbstruck in a foreign city, in a foreign life.

Barnes stared after him, unable to say a word, unable to move a single muscle. Then, before disappearing among the people roaming the streets in what could be a very late hour, the mysterious powerful man glanced over his shoulder with a last smile and whispered barely audible – not for supersoldier’s ears though.

“Oh, and Bucky? Name’s Chuck.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 7

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Alternative chapter title – Let’s Make Things a Bit Messier ;) If you didn’t watch Supernatural, Chuck is… Chuck is a powerful being and you might have figured out who exactly… yes, SPN went there.

One more surprise appearance in the next chapter ;)

Thank you for reading! 

[stardustdates]

Cool ! So can I have some headcanons for Muichiro having a twin sister who is a pillar too ? With Yuichiro they were triplets and even though after his death Mui no longer remembered her, she stayed with him, potected him (sometimes too much), reminded him of things he forgot etc. She is very sweet, calm and like to play calm music and he ended up taking a liking to her. How he would act with her before/after he regains his memory ? Thank you 💕💕

Stardust’s comment: Aah... I’m bad at writing sibling relationships, my brothers didn’t live with me, we have a 15 years difference- yeah. They’re old.

I’ll try !

Muichiro with a triplet sister

Muichiro and you are both pillars of mist, you work together.

You remembered Yuichiro, you two had very different reactions to the trauma. It gave you rage where Muichiro got amnesia. Yet you knew he had to remember by himself.

You just help him in little ways, making him food, giving him drinks...

Of course he knows you’re his twin, he’s not stupid, you guys are identical he jus doesn’t remember anything about you.

Loves listening to your music as he lays on the engawa.

Sometimes asks you questions about the past.

When he remembers well obviously he’s on the verge of death.

He wants to show you he can be strong, he wants you to know he remembers. 

 “Y/Nnee-san please... I’m sorry... I remember now...”

ouch.

[iwhumpyou]

How about the hero suffered temporary amnesia after got an accidental head injury while fighting the villain, and the villain is the one who feel responsible about this accident, they're willing to take care of the hero until their memories coming back? The amnesiac hero only consider the villain as their kindhearted caretaker while being treated, and the villain think it's not so bad to befriend them. After the hero got their memories back, they still maintain their friendship as frenemies.

Less hero and villain, but still ETC, so I hope this was what you were looking for, anon!  Also caution for unrealistic depiction of amnesia but it’s my story and I can do what I want.

I was really struggling on writing a Mirai/Nerali interlude for The Cost (mostly because I suck at writing romance or relationships or flirting) and then this idea struck me and I decided it was a perfect outlet for my Mirai/Nerali feels so I could get back to the Aidan whump.

Takes place in an alternate timeline, diverging right before the start of The Price.

Masterlist.  Wergild.  (Tagging @whumps-the-word, @swordkallya, @whumpy-daydreams.)

~#~#~#~#~#~

Her head was ringing and something heavy was on her chest, pressing down, not letting her breathe. Nerali choked out a breath, her fingers tightening on thin, spindly twigs and dried leaves as she tried to stop the world from spinning.

When she managed to open her eyes, the blurriness faded, replaced with a view of sun-dappled leaves and trees stretching to block out a bright blue sky.  A fuzzy figure resolved itself into a young woman who was leaning over her, concerned.

Nerali groaned and grabbed her head as the change in position threatened to split apart her skull. It felt like a thousand tiny hammers pounding in discordance and her stomach squeezed uncomfortably as she pushed herself to a sitting position.

Her entire body ached and she clutched at her side as she squinted at her surroundings.  There were a lot of trees and several figures watching her.  The young woman had crouched down next to her, and was giving her a faintly relieved smile.  “That was quite the fall, Nerali,” she said.

“Where am I?” Nerali croaked.  She didn’t remember falling.  She didn’t remember going into the woods.  “Who are you?”

The young woman stared at her, clearly taken aback.  “How hard did you hit your head?” she asked.

Nerali’s attention was distracted – not by the revealing clothes the woman was wearing, though those were definitely distracting – by the sword in the young woman’s hand.  “Why do you have a sword?” she breathed out, unsure if she should be terrified or fascinated.  It looked like a real sword too.

“Oh, dear,” the young woman said.

~#~

Nerali didn’t want to go with the crazy sword-people, but she didn’t have much of choice.  She still had no idea where she was or how she got there.  The young woman – Mirai – said that Nerali had hit her head when she slipped off a tree.  The headache definitely corroborated that story, as did Nerali’s strange clothing, the way she couldn’t remember the last thing she’d been doing, and the fact that Mirai knew her name. 

Mirai did not elaborate on how Nerali had slipped off a tree, or what she was doing in a tree in the first place.

Also confusing was the sword that Mirai had handed Nerali after saying something about cleaning and bluebells.  Nerali had tried to protest that it wasn’t hers – since when did she know how to use a sword? – but Mirai had raised her eyebrows and nodded at Nerali’s waist where there was, in fact, a sword sheath attached to her belt.

Nerali had handled the sword gingerly, and she definitely didn’t miss the way one of the others sidled up to talk to Mirai in a hushed tone, darting frequent, wary glances at Nerali. Mirai had waved them off and offered to escort Nerali back to her compound to check out her head.

Nerali wasn’t exactly sure she could refuse, surrounded as she was by five people with swords, but she went quietly.  Her headache had increased in proportion to her confusion and it was taking all her willpower not to whimper with every step.

She had taken to rubbing the bridge of her nose by the time they arrived at Mirai’s compound – it was quite large, and surrounded by a tall fence.  She could see houses and bridges nestled in the trees above.

She made a wordless groan. Her head was pounding and she couldn’t even properly appreciate this treehouse compound in the middle of the woods.

They passed through the fence – the guards on either side gave her sidelong looks and started muttering – to a large, dusty ground that felt strangely…flat.  It was prickling at Nerali’s senses, an insistent thrum that grated against her throbbing head.

She followed the thrum, choosing the path of least resistance, and swayed in place until her eyes locked on…there.  A massive boulder near the center of the compound.  It felt –

“What are you doing here?” a displeased voice snapped and Nerali spun to see a man, tall and lean and muscled and decidedly not happy about her presence.  He didn’t have a sword as far as she could see, but he looked like he could break her neck with very little effort or provocation so she shrank back anyway. 

“I – um…”

“Jace!” Mirai said, skipping past her.  Face to face, Nerali could see the similarities – were they related? “You’re home.”

“And you’ve brought in a stray,” Jace scowled, glaring at Nerali, “Why.  Are.  You.  Here.”

Nerali swallowed.  “I – Mirai said to follow her…”

Jace’s glare switched to Mirai.  “Did you seriously just kidnap Clarissa’s baby sister?” he asked, and Nerali followed the kidnapping part, but –

“Who’s Clarissa?” she asked, her headache spiking, “And I don’t have any sisters.”  They’d mistaken her for someone else.  But then how did they know her name?

Jace stared incredulously at her before turning back to Mirai.  “Mirai, what did you do?” he growled through gritted teeth.

“She hit her head,” Mirai said pleadingly, “I couldn’t leave her there by herself!”

Nerali tried to discreetly dig the heel of her hand into her cheekbone to relieve the pain, but Jace caught the movement.  “And instead you brought her here?” he groaned, “Clarissa is going to be pissed.”

“She needs help,” Mirai said, eyes wide and glimmering – Nerali frowned, but Jace sighed in resignation.

“Take her to Irina,” he said, waving them along, “And get this fixed, Mirai, before Clarissa realizes her sister is missing. 

~#~

“I don’t have a sister,” Nerali said as Mirai led her to a cot in one of the tree-cabins.  Mirai patted her shoulder and turned to talk to a stern-faced woman holding several vials.

“She hit her head, Irina,” Mirai explained to the woman, who was examining Nerali’s eyes and then the back of her head.  “She doesn’t remember me or her sister or where she is.  She remembers her own name, though.”

“Hmm,” Irina said, pressing down on a sore part of her scalp and making Nerali yelp.  “Did you notice any dizziness?  Any confusion about other things?”

“No dizziness, at least not after she got up,” Mirai said, “She was confused about her sword.”  She paused for a long moment before continuing, “There was bluebell nectar on it.”

Irina drew back sharply and eyed Nerali.  “I don’t have a sword,” Nerali said meekly.

“Bluebell nectar,” Irina repeated, the words slow and measured.  Nerali wasn’t quite sure how to categorize the look on her face, but she flinched back all the same.  “And you brought her here?”

“Did you want me to dump an amnesiac elementalist on Clarissa’s doorstep?” Mirai retorted, heated, “This close to the peace talks?”

Her headache was not helped by the obscure references – she understood each word but not their meaning and they echoed in her head.  “What’s an elementalist?” she asked, weary.

Irina looked at her. “Your wrist,” she said, which was cryptic of her and – how had Nerali not noticed the rainbow spiral?

“When did I get a tattoo?” Nerali asked, running a finger along the spiral to see if it would rub off.

Irina looked at Mirai. “How did she hit her head?”

“She fell,” Mirai said, “Nearly twenty feet.”

Nerali hissed because ouch and what the hell had she been doing twenty feet in the air?

“And how did she fall twenty feet?” Irina asked, her eyes narrowed.

“She slipped,” Mirai blinked.  Irina’s gaze narrowed further.  “It was an accident,” Mirai volunteered, which sounded more like the truth.

Nerali frowned, because she didn’t understand where she was but she could still recognize guilt. “Did you push me?”

Mirai twitched.  “It was an accident,” she repeated.

“You pushed me off a tree and then kidnapped me!  How is that an accident?”

“You had bluebell nectar on your sword,” Mirai said frostily.

“I’ve never seen that sword before, and I don’t even know what bluebell nectar is –”

“Poison,” Mirai said, her eyes cold, “Bluebell nectar is a poison with no cure and your sword was dripping with it.  So yes, I pushed you off a tree to keep your poisoned sword from killing me.”

Nerali swallowed the rest of what she was going to say and dropped her gaze to her hands.

“Whatever else, I’m not comfortable letting her wander the forest with no memories,” Mirai said, turning back to Irina, “If you can fix it, let me know.  Otherwise I’ll take her back to Clarissa and hope she doesn’t murder me.” 

Nerali wanted to point out that she had plenty of memories, just none about her immediate situation, but she was missing a lot of time if she now had a tattoo and a sword.  She sat still as Irina continued her examination – the older woman was perfectly professional, but definitely cold.

Nerali made a muted protest as Irina tried to thrust three vials into her hands – what was this stuff, it wasn’t even medicine, it was oddly-colored, foul-smelling, strangely-viscous fluid in unmarked vials – Nerali wasn’t going to drink anything so soon after that little tidbit about poison –

“Drink,” Irina said, her voice hard, “Or you will be made to drink.”

Irina didn’t have a sword. And Nerali still had hers – she might not remember how to use it, but she still had muscle memory, right?

She met Irina’s gaze head-on, balling her fingers into fists.  “No,” she said, her heart pounding.  Her voice didn’t shake.

Irina slowly raised an eyebrow.  Nerali swallowed, and tried not to shiver.  She didn’t know who these people were, and they certainly weren’t fans of her. Mirai had pushed her off a tree. She couldn’t trust them.

“The hard way it is, then,” Mirai said, slinking out of the shadows.  Nerali scrambled back, but she hit the wall and the movement jostled her head – Nerali hissed as a spike of pain slammed through her skull, and she barely noticed as Mirai tipped her onto the cot.

Mirai was straddling her, her knees digging into Nerali’s elbows – heavy, in a way Nerali had not expected, and all the struggling was doing was causing pinpricks to explode across her vision, her head too tight, like it was being squeezed through a vice – and Nerali could smell something awful, just about make out Mirai’s face through her blurry vision as she brought the vial closer –

Nerali jerked hard, away from the vial, and the movement drove a shrieking white-hot spike through her skull.  Everything became dull and too much at once, and she couldn’t do anything as Mirai’s fingers dug into her jaw and poured something into her mouth.

Nerali gagged on the foul taste, swallowing as the pain became blinding.  The next one didn’t taste any worse, or any better.

The pain was easing, the hard spikes replaced with soft cotton, numbing her thoughts and cocooning her in a soft, warm blanket.  Her vision was wavering, but she could see the soft curve of Mirai’s stomach, the tight lines of her short top, the outline of muscles along her arms as she tilted Nerali’s chin down and pressed the last of the three vials to her lips.

Nerali drank it and almost cried when the softness enveloped her entirely and the last vestiges of the pounding pain disappeared.  It carried her off into the drifting darkness, leaving her confusion safely behind.

~#~

Mirai stilled as Nerali slumped, all the fight vanishing as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Was she supposed to do that?” Mirai asked, resisting the urge to shake Nerali until she woke up again.

Her heart had nearly stopped when Nerali had fallen, breathing impossible in those first few seconds when Nerali lay crumpled and unmoving, as Mirai’s head was full of panicked thoughts of ‘what did she just do?’.

And then Nerali had gotten up, and Mirai had sighed in relief, and then Nerali had proceeded to not remember who she was and Mirai nearly had a heart attack again.

It was Mirai’s fault that Nerali had a concussion, and her clan had better healers than the elementalists even if the curse stifled their magic, and it had been going great until Mirai was reminded of why she’d pushed Nerali off the tree branch in the first place.

Bluebell nectar.  She hadn’t thought Clarissa’s innocent little sister had been quite so vicious, but that’s what Mirai got for chasing after a pretty face.

“I’m not sure,” Irina said, and Mirai resisted the urge to shake her.  “She must’ve been in a considerable amount of pain for the potions to have a soporific effect.”

Mirai’s stomach twisted. Considerable amount of pain.  And Mirai had forced her to walk back to her clan compound, and had yelled at her, and had pinned her down and shoved potions down her throat.

“I certainly hope there’s a good explanation for this,” Jace said dryly from the doorway and Mirai twisted to see his raised eyebrow and pointed gaze.

Mirai scrambled off of Nerali and hoped her face wasn’t as red as her brother’s smirking face implied.

“She definitely took a bad knock to the head,” Irina said, “She doesn’t seem to know she’s an elementalist. When did you say Clarissa found her? It might give me a general timeline to figure out how best to treat her memory loss.”

“A year ago was that shapeshifter wedding,” Jace mused, “And Nerali wasn’t there.  But it’s definitely been some months.  Maybe ten?”

“Had to be a while, if they were sending her out on patrols by herself,” Mira pointed out.

Jace hummed in agreement and turned fully towards her.  “And speaking of patrols, Mirai,” he said, his voice level even as his eyes narrowed, “Any particular reason you went out on one right before the peace talks?”

Yes, and it was that Mirai was losing her mind being cooped up in the compound, but she didn’t think Jace would particularly appreciate the excuse.  She had thankfully come up with a better one before she’d run into Nerali.  “People are nervous and on-edge.  All it’ll take is one small incident and everyone will blow up.  I went out to make sure everything stayed calm,” Mirai said, blinking her eyes wide in the way she knew Jace was helpless against. 

Jace didn’t look impressed. “One small incident…like, say, an elementalist with memory loss?”  Mirai winced. He sighed and turned to Irina, “Can we even fix this?”

“There are a couple of things I can try,” Irina said, but the slant of her mouth was doubtful, “I can definitely heal the concussion.  But our potions keep growing weaker.  Nerali aside, Jace, I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

Jace’s expression tightened, like it always did at the reminder of the curse on their clan. “We’ll find a solution,” he said, like he always did.  Mirai had once believed him, but the words now rang hollow with empty hope.

~#~

When Nerali woke up, the headache was gone.  The healer – Irina – had probed around her scalp for another few minutes, and had asked her a bunch of questions, some of which Nerali could answer – how many fingers am I holding, what color is this, repeat these words, count backwards – and others that Nerali could not – what season is it, how old are you, names of your family members – well the last she did answer, but Irina didn’t seem to find it satisfactory.

She rattled off a bunch of names and checked with Nerali for familiarity, but they were all new to Nerali.

Irina had pursed her lips and rummaged through a cupboard before she found another potion and handed it to Nerali.

Nerali took it, because the thought of refusing led to the memory of Mirai straddling her, her bare stomach far too close to Nerali’s face, that tight shirt, those thighs –

Nerali swallowed the potion and nearly choked on it.  Irina gave her a sharp look as she began coughing, but moved away once Nerali gave her a strained smile.

“I will need to craft the next potion – it may take a couple of days,” she said, and motioned to the door, “I’m sure someone will come to collect you and take you to your temporary quarters.”

Nerali took the unsubtle hint and got out.

Judging by the light, it was late afternoon and the breeze ruffled at Nerali’s hair as she stood on the walkway.  She wasn’t sure she was supposed to wander around by herself so she stayed where she was, watching the leaves rustle and the low murmur of conversation drifting from the higher tree-cabins and –

The itch was back.

Nerali’s gaze swung back to the boulder.  It was rubbing her the wrong way, like a thread out of place.  It wasn’t supposed to be here but it was and it was messing up everything – she could almost sense the way it coiled around the healthy flow and choked it – but it didn’t want it, it wasn’t to blame, it was chained and angry but mainly so, so sad –

“Nerali!”  Mirai’s sharp voice broke through Nerali’s concentration and she paused, hand outstretched, centimeters away from rough stone.  How odd.  Hadn’t she been up on the walkway? 

“What are you doing?” Mirai said, and her voice was sharp and angry but her eyes were terrified. She grabbed Nerali’s hand and tugged it back down.

“I was just…”  What was she doing?  “It was calling to me,” Nerali said finally, aware that it sounded like the stupidest thing she’d ever said.

But Mirai didn’t look at her in confusion or laugh.  She gave the boulder a frightened glance and pulled Nerali away.

“Don’t go near it again,” she warned.  Nerali stayed silent.

~#~

Mirai checked in with Jace after she’d shown Nerali to her room and had found him glaring at several wadded up pieces of paper.

“Having trouble?” she asked, rounding his desk to read what he was writing over his shoulder.

‘Dear Clarissa’ it started and Mirai stilled.

“Trying to figure out how to get us out of the mess you dragged us into,” Jace said, sighing as she leaned on him.

“Did you want me to leave her there?” Mirai asked.

“I didn’t want you to kidnap her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” Mirai said, and ignored him choking out ‘next time?’ in favor of nudging the several failed drafts. “Why is this so difficult?”

“Because I’m having a hard time coming up with a diplomatic way to say ‘my sister pushed your sister off a tree and then kidnapped her and oh, yes, she has amnesia now’,” Jace grumbled.

“Well, you should probably clarify which one of us has amnesia,” Mirai said, and ducked when Jace swatted at her face.

Mirai crept back as Jace sighed and picked up his pen to scrawl another line on the letter.

‘There was an altercation today between our clans.  In the course of it, Nerali hit her head. She is currently receiving treatment at my compound.’

“I spoke to Irina,” Jace said, his voice heavy, “She said that Nerali’s concussion should be healed.”

Mirai hummed in agreement.

“She said…if her memories don’t return soon, it’s possible they never will.”  Mirai stiffened.  Jace sighed, “There are spells and potions – but they’re not strong enough.  Not anymore.”

“You’ll find a solution,” Mirai said softly, wrapping her arms around her brother’s shoulders, “And once you do, we’ll get Nerali’s memories back.”

Jace leaned back and rested his head against her chest.  He didn’t contradict her.  But he didn’t agree with her either.

~#~

It was late.  It was far, far too late to be awake.  In fact, Mirai didn’t even know why she was awake, but she had opened her eyes to the sudden alertness of danger.

Was someone attacking them? This close to the peace talks?

Mirai stayed still and listened.  There was a soft, stuttering footfall against wood – too quiet to not be someone up to no good.

Mirai silently rose from her sleeping pallet, pausing to grab her sword sheath before she stole out of her room.  It was a new moon night and it took some time for her eyes to adjust enough for the starlight to make a difference.  There was a figure at the end of the ground ramp and Mirai quietly stalked after them.

Strangely, the figure wasn’t going up to the rooms, nor out to the wall and the guards.  Instead, they headed towards the center, towards the boulder –

Mirai threw caution to the wind and ran forward, grabbing Nerali before she could touch the boulder.

“What are you doing?” Mirai hissed, her grip tight on Nerali’s arms.

“Mirai,” Nerali said, her soft smile visible in the starlight, “You’re very pretty in dreams.”

Mirai firmly told her mind to put a pin in that, because she had other priorities.

“This is not a dream,” she said fiercely, tightening her grip as Nerali swayed back towards the boulder.

“Of course it is,” Nerali murmured, blinking at her, “It’s soft and fuzzy and –”

Mirai slapped her, hard.

“Ow,” Nerali wrenched herself from Mirai’s grasp and scowled at her, one hand rubbing her cheek.  “What the hell was that for?”

“You thought this was a dream,” Mirai said, her heart still caught in her throat.  Her mind was stuck on that open, trusting smile.  “It’s not a dream.” 

“Got that loud and clear,” Nerali grumbled.  Her cheek had turned bright red.  “Couldn’t find a more violent way to make your point?” 

“You need to stop coming here,” Mirai said.  She was jittery and her breathing was too fast.  “It’s not safe.”

“It’s a rock,” Nerali said, turning around to look at it.  Mirai stumbled between her and the boulder.

“It’s not safe,” she repeated.

“It is,” Nerali scowled, “It’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine,” Mirai said, grabbing Nerali’s shoulders and pushing here away from the boulder, “It’s a curse.  You need to stop going near it.”

Nerali didn’t argue, but her expression became thoughtful.  She let Mirai pull her back to her room, but she darted frequent glances at the boulder.

She went inside her room willingly.  Mirai reminded herself that there were no windows in the guest quarters, and took up a guard position outside the door.

~#~

A curse.  So that was what it was.  It made sense – curse was the name to those chains.  The chains that had to be removed, because they were digging in tightly and it was so sad, so hurt, so alone.

She was aware that Mirai was right outside the door.  She could hear her breathing.  So she had to wait.

It was difficult.  So, so difficult to lie awake in the darkness and feel it itching against her, rubbing her the wrong way like a grain of sand in wet clothes, chafing and chafing until she burned with the urge to –

In the darkness, her fingertips lit up with fire.

Nerali didn’t scream. She closed her hand into a fist, and they snuffed out.

Nerali took a deep, ragged breath, and still didn’t scream.  She held onto it, onto surprise and fear and warmth and let it out with a breath.

She was warmth but it was cold and it was leeching at her.  She had to help.

She pretended she’d slept through the night, grumbled something about sleepwalking and slaps, glared at Mirai all throughout breakfast, and waited and waited and waited until Mirai left to go talk to her brother.

There were several other clan members finishing breakfast, and none gave her a second glance as she got up from the table.  A couple shot her glances as she left the area, but she felt their pressure ease after she passed the ramp and continued forward.

The boulder was there, the center of the wrongness that infected the whole place.  It was like it was a weight, crushing the air around them until everything was flat and dull.  She stepped up to it, felt the aching misery and pain and anger, and gently placed her hands on cold, smooth stone.

‘Who lays claim to the sacred stone?’ a voice echoed in her mind. The world was suddenly alive again – the stone was warm under her fingers and she could feel the sun’s heat on her back.  Water was gurgling somewhere close by.  Her feet felt rooted in the ground, strong and steady, and she could feel the air filling her lungs.

‘My name is Nerali,’ she answered in kind.

‘What is your purpose, Nerali of the rainbow clan?’

Nerali took a deep breath and let it out.  ‘I want to help.’

The presence uncoiled, suddenly interested.  ‘Do you?’ it hummed, pressing down on her. Nerali could feel her fingers seal against stone.  ‘I have been forsaken.’

‘I can help you,’ Nerali pressed, ‘Let me help you.’

‘I can only be helped by the willing,’ the spirit said.

‘I am willing,’ Nerali promised.

Something warm and heavy pressed against her back and arms twined around her own, fingers lacing between hers.  ‘No,’ Mirai snarled inside her head, ‘She’s not.’

‘What are you doing?’ Nerali thought, bewildered, but was cut off by Mirai’s rage.

‘I told you it was a curse, I told you to stay away, and you ran here the second I looked the other way!’

‘You call me a curse, spring child,’ the spirit said, settling around them both, ‘When it is your fault I’m here.’

‘I did nothing to you,’ Mirai snapped, ‘And you’ve poisoned our clan.’

‘You brought it upon yourselves.  You failed to honor me.  You defiled me.  And so you reap your sorrow.’

‘I didn’t do jack shit to you –’

‘It’s hurting you,’ Nerali pressed, ‘It’s hurting them.  Please let me help.’

‘I will not.  I cannot. I will only relent once I have taken my due.’

‘What due?’ Nerali and Mirai thought in unison.

‘My due in earth, water, fire and air.  The due that has been owed for all these years.  The due that can only be settled by one willing to pay it.’

Nerali’s heart ached – it was in so much pain, twisted in upon itself, power leashed inside instead of out, hurt and alone and –

‘I’m willing,’ Mirai said, determined.

‘Are you certain, spring child?’ the spirit murmured, ‘None of you has ever tried to take the dues before. Are you willing to make up for your mistakes?’

‘None of us has ever had an elementalist before,’ Mirai snapped, ‘I’m certain.  I’m willing to do whatever it takes to lift this curse off my people.’

Nerali felt pain and sadness and, rising above them all, rage.  She had the faint thought she may have made a mistake. 

‘Very well,’ the spirit said.  ‘First, my due of earth.’

Nerali opened her eyes and watched earth crawl over her fingers and onto Mirai’s, creeping up, inch by inch – Mirai snarled as the stone forced her arms down, pushing Nerali flat against the stone as Mirai pressed into her back.

Nerali had the abrupt, horrible thought that the stone was never going to stop.

‘I’m willing,’ she mentally shouted at the spirit, and the stone stilled.

‘What –’

‘I’m willing to break the curse.  It’s my due too.’

‘Nerali, no –’

‘Very well, rainbow child.’  The stone surged around Nerali’s arms, trapping them both to the stone, hands and forearms pressed together.

And then it constricted.

Nerali felt the breath explode out of her and Mirai stiffened against her back.  “Oh, spirits,” Mirai breathed out loud as Nerali tried to blink back tears – that had hurt, this was going to hurt, she had never once broken a bone in her life and now she’d shattered them all from fingertip to elbow. 

‘Next, my due of water.’  Water surged from the stone and Nerali stared at it, still half in shock, watching it climb over her hands and Mirai’s and –

Water turned to ice so fast Nerali barely registered it.  She definitely registered it when the spikes began moving, slicing through muscles and scraping against shattered bone.  Nerali choked out a panicked sob and pressed her face against the stone, this wasn’t real, this couldn’t be happening –

‘Next, my due of fire.’

“Oh, fuck,” Mirai hissed and Nerali squeezed her eyes shut.  There was cold stone pressing against her face and Mirai’s warmth around her back, soothing and comforting and she just had to focus on that, she just had to focus on Mirai’s heartbeat underneath her shoulder blade and –

Her arms were on fire.  Her arms.  Were.  On fire.

Nerali didn’t even realize she was screaming until she choked on the lack of air.  Mirai was as silent as the grave, but Nerali could feel her shuddering. 

‘Last, my due of air.’

Her arms felt like they were being ripped apart – bone, muscle, blood and skin.  Nerali didn’t have the breath to scream so she focused on Mirai’s heartbeat and told herself that it would be over soon.  It would be over soon.  It would be over –

‘I am surprised.  Rainbow and spring, working together.  No one has accepted my dues before.’ 

Nerali started sobbing. She just wanted it to be over. Please, please let it be over –

‘Is it done?’ Mirai, half-choking on a scream.

‘I have taken my due of earth, of water, of fire and of air,’ it said, ‘The curse is broken, rainbow and spring.’

There was a loud cracking sound and Nerali unpeeled her face from the stone right before it crumbled to pieces.  The movement unstuck her fingers and she fell back in surprise – Mirai groaned as they sprawled on the ground.

“What the hell did you do?” Jace almost screamed, and Nerali flinched.  She turned to roll off of Mirai, but she automatically brought her hands out to support her and she was screaming as soon as she moved them, bone scraping against burns and blood leaking out.

Someone helped her to the side, careful to curl their hands around her shoulders, staying far away from her arms as they lay limp in her lap.  She could barely see her arms through her tears but they looked ruined, mangled wrecks of blood and blisters and –

“The curse?” Mirai asked weakly, “Did we – did it break?”

The itch was gone. Nerali’s arms were ruined and she still couldn’t stop sobbing but that awful, insistent itch was wrong. Something still tugged at her, but quieter, more peaceful, and Nerali twisted to see the ruins of the boulder.

There – the water she’d heard, burbling out of the ground.

“The spring,” Jace breathed out, “I thought it was lost forever.”

“The spring,” Mirai said, her voice faint, “Will that help Nerali remember?”

“Uh…probably,” Jace said, darting a glance at her.  Nerali could barely see him, she was focused on sucking in faster and faster breaths.

“Good,” Mirai said, her voice dropping – or was it Nerali’s hearing?  “I want her to remember everything when I yell at her for wandering straight into a dangerous situation after she’d been warned to stay away.”

“I feel like I retain all yelling rights here,” Jace said, his voice coming from far away, “Both to amnesiac guests and idiot little sisters.”

Nerali didn’t hear Mirai’s reply.  She was too busy drifting.

~#~

Nerali opened her eyes to an unfamiliar thatched roof and a whole lot of pain.  Her arms seemed to be on fire, but she could’ve sworn she hadn’t messed up training that badly – 

The patrol.  Mirai.  Falling.  The curse.

Nerali whimpered.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a familiar voice chirped from her right.  Nerali turned her head and was met with Mirai’s unamused expression.

Nerali groaned and turned away.

“Shall I assume you remember everything?” Mirai asked, still sounding way too perky for someone who had half their arm pulverized, flayed, and burned.

“Please shut up,” Nerali entreated the ceiling.

“Oh, no,” Mirai said, “Composing this lecture is the only thing distracting me from the fiery pain eating my arms and I’ve made sure I covered all the points, starting from –”

“I didn’t know,” Nerali cut her off.  It was suddenly difficult to swallow, because she hadn’t known – it was a simple mistake, but it could have so easily become a fatal one.

“I’m aware of that, but being amnesiac doesn’t give you a free pass on not listening when someone gives you a direct warning –”

“No,” Nerali interrupted, “No, not that.  The bluebell nectar.”  No one had told her bluebells were poisonous.  No one had – no one –

She remembered swinging her sword at Mirai, remembered the flirtatious smile dying and panicked fear as Mirai contorted herself to avoid Nerali’s sword.

“I didn’t know it was poisonous.  I swear. I’m so, so sorry, Mirai, I didn’t know.”  She swallowed, choking back further pleas because Mirai could accept it or she could throw Nerali’s apology aside because what did sorry even mean? What would it have meant if Nerali had managed to cut her? 

Had managed to kill her?

“Well,” Mirai said after a pause, “I’m glad you weren’t trying to poison me.  I’m still very pissed over you trying to give me a heart attack –”

~#~

Reluctant Bedrest.

[ceciliavonwrites]

(Alt 9) Memory Loss - Sonic

Sonic woke up with a pounding headache. Ugh. He winced, shifting around on the couch he found himself on. He rolled over under the blanket some thoughtful soul had put on him.

Geez, his head hurts. He rubbed his temple with one hand and found bandages there. The rest of him hurt too, actually, in a dull aching way. He felt like he’d run a marathon, given blood, and then been hit by a truck, all in one day and not necessarily in that order. Even just the thought of moving made him feel tired.

Where was he? The little room was unfamiliar. Light streamed from behind him, presumably through a window. A coffee table sat across from the couch, with books and papers and tools strewn across it. Against one wall was a cozy little fireplace with more stuff sitting on the mantle, and to its left in the corner was a stairwell leading down. The stairwell and the other wooden furniture in the room looked handmade and rough.

Steps echoed from the stairwell. Sonic gingerly rolled onto his back and up against the couch’s arm to get a better view. 

A little orange dude’s head popped up. “Sonic! You’re awake!” He hopped up the stairs and into the room, two tails swishing behind him. He rushed to Sonic’s side, full of worry. “How are you feeling?”

“Ah…?” Who was this? “Well, my head’s killin’ me, but I’ll live. Who--” His head throbbed. He winced and burrowed down into the cushions. “Ow ow ow ow ow.”

“Take it easy, alright?” The little guy said, concerned. “We just got you back!”

Got him back? What...what did that mean? 

He tried to remember. To remember what they got him back from, who “we” could possibly be, who the name of this boy who was so worried for him was. He only found blackness.  

Sonic, very quietly, panicked. “...R-Right...Uh… Hey, don’t worry.” He put effort into smiling and keeping his voice steady. No need to worry this poor kid any further. “I’ll, you know, rest and get better, easy. I’m too sore to...ow...to move, anyways.”

The boy was not surprised by this. “It’s amazing that you’re alive at all, really.” He then smiled. “Though if anyone was going to make it through that, it would have been you. Do you want anything? More pillows, water, food? We have stuff for chili dogs.”

Was that important? “Just some water, please. Ow.” He groaned, and curled up in the blanket. “An’ something for my head if you’ve got it. Ow.”

The boy raised a brow, said okay, and went away back down the stairs.

Sonic closed his eyes, hoping that less light would help the headache. Exhaustion hit him again.

When he woke up again, the window light was bluer, and there were two people in the room.

“SONIC!” 

Someone very loud and very pink fell on him, crying.

Sonic froze, no idea what to do with someone sobbing into his blanket for who knows what reason. “U-Uh...”

The girl lifted her head, tears streaming down her face, smiling in a wet and wobbly way. “Thank goodness! We were so worried about you!”

He stared at her, his brain whirring. “Oh. Ah.” Quick, think of something comforting to say! “I-I’m okay now! Promise. Healing up a-and…” Oh god brain give him a good way to end this sentence. “And stuff.” NO.

The orange boy, who was holding a glass of water, now spoke up. “Give him some room, Amy. He’s still feeling pretty bad.”

Amy! Sonic felt a rush of relief. Her name was Amy. That was a good start. Amy, please say the little orange guy’s name so he can know both. Please?

The girl wiped her tears. “Right…” She sniffed and pulled herself together. “Tails says you turned down chili dogs. You must feel awful!”

His prayers are answered! The dude with two tails is...is named Tails? Not that it doesn’t fit, but who came up with that? “Oh, well, I...” Shoot, the chili dogs WERE important. He winced again. This was not helping his poor head. “I guess I’ve been better.” Probably. At some point.

“Are you hungry at all?” Amy said, leaning forwards. “I can make you something! You need to eat healthy to keep your strength up!”

She can cook, okay. Pink, Amy, cooking. “If, uh...If I can stay awake long enough, sure.” He smiled wanly. He was so exhausted it overrode being hungry. “‘M worn out.”

Amy nodded in sympathy. “You look worn out.”

“S’at my water?”

Tails realized he was being addressed. “Oh, yeah.” He held it out to him, along with two little pills in his other hand. “All we’ve got is Tylenol. I hope it helps a little.” 

Sonic sat up and accepted both things. “Thanks, Tails.” He popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down in one gulp of the water.

He had made the mistake of moving too fast; his head screamed at him. “Gnh…!” His hand clapped to his head.

When the spasm of throbbing pain faded away, he opened his eyes to the other two looking at him with sympathy.

“Hang in there,” Amy said gently. “Do you think you're sick too? You seem kind of...” She made a wobbly gesture with her hand. “You know, not right.”

“She’s got a point.” Tails studied him. “Do you feel feverish, Sonic?”

“Uh...” Oh, geez, is he not acting right? Is that the problem? Or...okay, okay, no need to panic. It’s probably just because of this monster headache. He’s exhausted and in pain, anyone would be bound to be out of it if they were him. “Nah. I don’t think so.”

Regardless, Tails stepped forwards and felt his head. “Hm. I don’t feel a fever.”

He had to try to put them at ease. And himself too, honestly. “H-Hey, guys, c’mon.” Sonic said, shooing Tails away. “You’re worrying too much. I only started getting better, like, today. ‘M here and everything, I just…” He ran out of steam mid-sentence and had to take another breath. “Lemme rest.”

Tails and Amy glanced at each other, and they both nodded. “Okay, Sonic,” Tails said. “If you say so.”

“You’d better!” Amy said.

Another wan smile from Sonic. They were threatening him. They must be his friends. Surely, surely he would remember them soon. “Yeah. ‘Course I will.”

“Okay, let’s clear out!” said Amy, pumping her fists. “He needs to rest and we need to cook! If you’re awaken Sonic, I’ll bring you dinner!”

Tails looked at her. “We? Ah!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him off. “Uh, have a nice nap!”

Amy made them fly down the stairs.

“Heh.” Maybe things would be alright after all. Sonic set the water glass on the floor and closed his eyes again.

When he woke up the third time, only the dim light of the stars came through the window. Sonic lay there blinking, still sleepy. He was starting to feel better, thankfully. Head still hurt, but he felt less beaten up and dead. That was good. Now all he had to worry about was…

Okay, he could worry about several things. But those were all after-he’s-better things. Right now, everything’s fine.

“You’re awake.”

Sonic turned his head at the unfamiliar voice. This was someone new. The moon shone faintly on the edges of another hedgehog’s sharp features, standing just a few feet away. Black and red, spiky and grim. The stranger’s hands were fists at his sides.

Ohhhhh boy. Now he was VERY awake. Friend or not friend? “Uh.” Sonic pushed himself backwards to sit up against the couch arm, eyeing him warily. “Hi there.” 

He paused. The stranger just stared at him.

Well. Okay. He’s not being attacked. So far the evidence leaned towards a friend, if a menacing-looking one. “...Where’re Tails and Amy?” Sonic asked. He couldn’t use that trick from earlier to get his name if no one else was here to tell him what it was.

“It’s past midnight.” He said. He spoke without much intonation or emotion. “They’re downstairs asleep.”

“Oh. It’s that late?” It kind of felt like it, but honestly right now he was tired at any hour. “Geez. What’re you doing up, then?”

“I don’t need sleep.”

Sonic blinked. He soon gave up on trying to puzzle that one out. So the grim guy is weird. Fair enough.

The stranger stepped forwards, his shoes clunking on the wooden floor. Sonic had to look at them to see why the noise. The soles looked like they were made of painted metal. That could not be comfortable. 

He held out one hand. “This is yours.”

Sonic looked. In his hand was a rectangular gold buckle. The stranger’s hand shifted and the buckle glinted with a reflection of the moon.

Pretty! And, uh, completely unfamiliar. “Oh, hey, thanks,” Sonic said. He reached out and took it, admiring the gold sheen. “I’ll have to find somewhere to put this.”

The stranger raised a brow. “Find somewhere? It has a place.”

Uh… No no no it’s okay, he can still talk himself out of it. “Uh, yeah, that’s what I meant.” It was not what he meant. “Putting it where it goes. But you know. Later.”

Now his brows went down. “It’s just right there.”

Right where? It looks like a belt buckle and none of them wear clothes. “Uh...I’m not getting up. Too tired. Tomorrow.”

The stranger was incredulous. “Too tired to reach for your own shoe?”

Oh. Oops.

“...Yes. Exactly.” He spoke faster. “You coulda waited until morning, you know, it's not like whatever hour at night is, uh, a good time to do anything, much less buckle my shoes--”

“What is my name?”

Sonic immediately was unable to keep talking. Cold washed over him. 

“Uh.” He unfroze. “Of course I know who you are, good pal buddy.” He said this very fast, a very very fake smile plastered on his face. “Haha, uh, why’re you asking?”

“You have a head injury, and you are a very poor actor.” His voice lowered. “You’ve lost your memory.”

Ouch. Saw right through him. “Er, okay, you’ve got me there…” He gingerly rubbed his head, the bandages rustling between. Honestly, it was kind of a relief that he didn’t need to keep trying to hide it from him. “Last thing I remember is...I’m shorter, and running over a green hill somewhere. That’s pretty much it.”

The stranger crossed his arms. “Amnesia isn’t easy to deal with.” He said slowly. He had stopped his stare, and was looking aside. “Know that you’re still the same person regardless.”

Sonic looked at him in surprise. There had been a little emotion in there that time. He wasn’t sure what. Sadness, maybe? “Thank you, man.” He said. “I do still feel like me, if that makes any sense.”

The stranger nodded, a grim look still on his face. Even grimmer than what he’d started with, somehow.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t look so down. I’ve got this.” Sonic waved one hand at him. “I can figure this out because I’ve got friends around, you know? It seems like I’ve got a good life here. It would suck if nobody was around to tell me what was up.”

He was looking away again. “...Yes.”

Huh, what’s the matter with him? Maybe the amnesia thing just hit close to home for him for some reason. “Eh, we can talk about something else...”

The stranger shook his head. “It’s nothing. My name is Shadow.”

Shadow, huh? That name suited him. “Okay, Shadow.” He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. You know, again.” Then he yawned, showing off little fangs and a big mouth. “Mm… Geez, I’m tired… How about we catch up later?”

“Tell your friends what’s going on.”

He still didn’t want to do that. He’d only just found out he has friends…his first act wasn’t going to be to make them cry. “I’ll...do that.” Sonic lay down and curled up in the blanket. “G’night.”

He heard the clonking of the metal shoes on wood, and then silence. He went to sleep again, finally destined to wake up tomorrow.