#and then the night/day symbolism hit me and yes it might be very obvious for a phantom thief but i felt like a genius dfgdfg

[gwinverarrouz]

White Rabbit/Yuto for @hug-monster! I love phantom thief characters >:D

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 2: Fake Names

Day 2, give it up for day 2! A short bit with Hilde, originally this was going to be part of the Dance of Masks fic and it does still lead into that. I am working on that, just not while I'm doing these monthly challenges.

Queen Galfrey chose to stay behind while the rest went to the festival. Hilde had to order Anevia and Irabeth along; the two tried to refuse the respite they desperately needed. The trip to Kenabres took two uneventful days, and two nights that Arueshalae spent curled up tight in the arms of her Hilde. The camp was too intimate for them to be comfortable with sex, especially when Arueshalae knew she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. She didn’t mind, cuddling inside a warm sleeping bag pressed against Hilde’s flushed skin brought her all the bliss she could ever want. Aivu joined them, sleeping with her head on their bag like an enormous puppy and very happy to be traveling outside of Drezen.

Arueshalae awoke on the third morning to find herself alone. A brief pang of loneliness hit her, swiftly dimmed by the sound of Hilde’s voice outside. Nenio’s followed, a collected, “How about that? Do you approve?”

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Nenio!” Hilde’s voice rang out again, just outside the tent. Arueshalae slipped on a vest and some pants and poked her head out. Nenio was sitting next to a woman who was looking at herself in the mirror. The woman’s form shimmered for a brief instant as she looked at Arueshalae and grinned. “Oh, Arueshalae, good morning!” She had Hilde’s voice, but her skin was lighter, her eyes were a deep brown, and her hair was a vibrant platinum blonde. The illusion wrapped around Hilde didn’t hide her freckles or the scar over her nose, though.

Arueshalae looked at her with some confusion. “O-oh! Good morning. Um, why do you look like a human? A very lovely human,” she couldn’t help but add.

Hilde shrugged and looked back. “I think I’m going to go to the festival like this. If it’s really in my honor, then showing up as myself will just be… I won’t get a moment alone. I won’t get to enjoy it as myself, I’ll just be a symbol swarmed by people. I miss being a normal person, not the Knight Commander.”

Arueshalae squatted down next to Hilde and Nenio, a pensive look coming over her face. “Maybe I should do that too…” She looked down at her own tail as it twitched and curled gently around Hilde’s wrist. “I’ve changed, but… Most people probably won’t see that. They’ll still just see the monster. Oh, but disguising myself feels too much like deception!”

Nenio briefly glanced up, then went back to studying the ring she was imbuing with the illusion. “I’m not implying you haven’t redeemed yourself, but I might caution against a disguise. Statistically, you are far more likely to suffer violence if someone sees through your illusion than Hilde is. Far, far more likely.”

“That’s… True. M-maybe I just shouldn’t go. I wouldn’t want to cause a scene or scare people or-“ Arueshalae paused as Hilde tapped her tail twice. Their little code that Arueshalae was getting in her head and starting to spiral. Hilde’s signal for her to stop, breathe, and clear her head. She did as she was asked, closing her eyes and sucking in a few breaths through her teeth. “S-sorry. No, I… I should go as myself. My true, honest self, shown to the world.” 

She let out a squeak as Hilde planted a kiss on her cheek. “There’s my brave Arueshalae… As for me… I think I’ll be going as, um, shit, help me think of a fake name.”

Arueshalae tilted her head. “Um… Why? Oh, I suppose you’d be recognized by your name. Hilda, maybe? No, that’s too obvious. Edlih! It’s Hilde backwards! Also too obvious?”

Nenio chimed in, “And it doesn’t sound like a normal name. Perhaps, was there a name you were almost given as a child?”

Hilde sighed. “Yes, but those were all boy’s names. Oh! Nenio, could you make the illusion look a bit more Varisian? I’ll be Esmerelda today!”

“Esmerelda… That name sounds familiar.” Arueshalae sat down, wracking her brain for any mention Hilde had made of such a person.

Hilde answered quickly with a grin. “Esmerelda was the woman that let me travel with her caravan when I left home. She was kind of like my mom for a few years… No doubt she’s gone now, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me borrowing her identity a little! So there’s a name that has some meaning to me.”

[independentzaun]

“Close enough.” A quick flash of a smile as Jinx had grabbed everything she wanted in the boxes for now. However she was very likely to come back for more at some point late at night. Over the years she’d gotten very good indeed at sneaking around as Caitlyn could attest to if asked about it. The pained expression from Vi made a bit of satisfaction hit Jinx as she refrained from smirking. It was only fair she make Vi feel uncomfortable after all if not downright hurt. After all what more did Vi deserve after having told lie after lie?

The thing that truly drove it home to Jinx both that Vi was a liar, and also was a firm reminder of how things had been ruined changed was Vi not giving her an address. Her lying former sister could at least have given her some vague directions or something. “Of course. I’m always so easy to find.” A touch of sarcasm in her voice as in truth it wasn’t as easy to find her as one might think. A lot of Jinx’s time was spent in her workshop no one else knew how to get to these days, or on darkened roof tops or skulking through one quiet area or another. Yes she could be found of course, but most people only saw Jinx when she wanted them to see her.

Following along to the door Jinx had gazed up at Vi feeling that touch at her cheek, and for a second there was almost a wistful look on her face. Without thinking she actually tilted her head a bit pressing her cheek against that touch until Vi left again before nodding. “You’ll see me again.” A threat? A promise? Hard to say really. Heading towards the door she opened it before glancing back as her magenta eyes narrowed. “Vi… I’m not stupid.” There was a note of anger in her voice, but along side that she sounded almost disappointed if not down right saddened. That was the last she’d offer before slipping out the door, and vanishing.

That was the last night Vi would see Jinx for some time, but it wasn’t the last time Jinx saw Vi. Fed by that borderline obsession, and insatiable curiosity Jinx returned to the Enforcer Building and watched both the enforcers and their boot camp area. Inevitably she saw Vi training, and becoming an Enforcer. It was a sight that almost had her launch a rocket right at Vi and the other enforcers. It was a sight that sent Jinx into a spiral for a day or two, and in the end resulted in an Enforcer watch post getting utterly demolished by explosives with the survivors put out of their misery by her pistol. Nothing left behind except her graffiti making it clear who had done it.

After that she hand delivered two notes without being seen. One into Caitlyn’s office, and one onto Vi’s bed.

Vi’s note made Jinx’s feelings obvious. Liar. Traitor. Betrayer. Liar liar liar LIAR liar! With various drawings on the back that could best be described as a mix of angry, and sorrowful. One drawing was of Powder with Jinx standing behind her and Vi to one side with Vi crossed out.

Caitlyn’s note was simple, and threatening. Be seeing you soon. Jinx. P.S Maybe be more careful in the shower from now on huh? There was a drawing on this one as well. Silco’s symbol for the Eye of Zaun at the bottom, and a drawing of the head of a howling canine done in Jinx’s colors along with bullets that looked like the rounds Pow-pow used scattered around the page.

Jinx would not forget, and at this point there was little hope of her forgiving either.

"Yes, of course," Vi said when Jinx insisted she had to visit at some point and tried not to let her eyes show divert on account of her nerves. She really did have to work on hiding her emotions better. Once she and Jinx were in the basement, Vi leaned up against the wall, her arms crossed as she watched her sister roam about. She trusted her enough to not suddenly make a run for it since she was offering her parts but she was ready to break into a sprint if she really needed to. At the same time, part of her was torn over the fact that she had to be so weary of her sister. She wanted so desperately to trust her like she used to but she simply couldn't. She wasn't the same. They weren't the same. It'd take her the entirety of her life to fully accept that.

A small smile crossed Vi's lips as she took in the sight of Jinx delighting herself amongst the scraps. For once, she reminded her of Powder. The girl who was still mastering her craft in doll and bomb making. The girl relied on her to protect her. The girl she would still die for. She let out a small sigh to break her train of thought since she knew dwelling over the memories would only make actively lying to and eventually booting out Jinx harder for her. "Got everything your little heart desires?" The fighter teased lightly as she looked over the bundle of items her sister managed to scavenge. Nothing inherently deadly, but she knew her sister could whip something of the like up with anything.

Vi's brows knitted together as a pained expression washed over her face. "Your dirty little Zaun secret." She hated that Jinx would chalk herself up to that, especially because she knew her sister said to hurt her. "Yeah, gotcha," She mumbled before she started leading the way out of the basement. As she went up those old wooden steps, part of her mulled over the idea of running away with Jinx, just like what she had offered back then to save Caitlyn's life. It was stupid and even moreso it was idiotic because it wouldn't work. They simply couldn't work together anymore. Even with all the patience Vi practiced, it wouldn't be enough to make everyone happy, including herself.

Vi habitually reached back to grab her sister's wrist again, an attempt to keep her close one last time before she started heading for the nearest exist. Her eyes practically bulged out of her skull when Jinx asked for an address. Her feet had stopped for a moment but she quickly caught herself as she continued walking. At least she was facing away from Jinx so she couldn't see her face. "I can come and find you," She finally said after a long and tense silence. "Not that I don't trust you. Just...I barely remember the address," She lied and closed her eyes tightly for a moment before they stood in front of the door. Vi stared at it for a moment before she slowly let go of her sister and turned to look at her. "Be careful out there, okay?" She asked her and took an awkward step forward before her hand reached out, caressing her cheek for a few seconds before she pulled back.

[crackinwise]

My pet AU is Kiyotaka and Mondo somehow out in the post-Tragedy Japan, surviving and saving people. Like either they didn't agree to stay locked in Hope's Peak for safety, or they survived the game and left with the others but didn't join Future Foundation. Major points up front, details divided into sections under the cut:

Mondo's objective would be to find his gang, and Taka's goal, besides finding his dad, would be repairing society while punishing those responsible for its destruction. But their direct task is keeping each other safe & helping victims along the way.

Mondo even stresses calling Taka "Ishimaru" instead of "bro" or his given name in front of others, so they might KNOW who's saving them. Taka caught on quick & is very grateful.

Taka would have kind of a breakdown reconciling who he is with what he has to do in a lawless world where every public moral is ignored. He keeps a small ledger of places they loot from, to compensate in the future.

At the start, Taka can only sleep burrowed against Mondo's chest or back, blocking out their damaged surroundings & pretending everything is as it was.

He cries in Mondo's arms one night after he couldn't avoid killing someone to save Mondo's life, and that's the tipping point. He thinks if he was better, stronger like his bro, he'd have noticed sooner & found a better option. Mondo is being so brave; he's Taka's rock and Taka wants to be as steady for him too. Their souls are already connected so obviously he just has to borrow more of Mondo's spirit, right?

That's how Ishida is created.

(In reality, Mondo just compartmentalizes and shoves down unhelpful feelings. You thought he needed therapy BEFORE all this, oh man-)

Ishida:

Taka ends up slipping into the Ishida facade for fight and flight; any time adrenaline kicks in and he feels he needs that boost. Sadly, that's most of their waking time. He guards Mondo and anyone they're saving like a fierce watchdog, and won't hesitate to bite.

He'll only come out of the role when he personally verifies it's safe and if Mondo can confirm it. Survivors are confused by the dual-sided Ishimaru switching right in front of them, but they're so grateful (and so much weird crap has happened) that it never phases them long.

Too many times, Ishida will go all day without a break. This means when their hideout for the night is absolutely safe, that it's okay to let go, Taka just collapses in exhaustion. But Mondo is there to catch him.

Mondo feels conflicted over the Ishida role because Taka is just a beast in it--it's very flattering and a little hot--but it also makes him worry more than before about Taka's health. He comforts Taka with a lot of praise and reassurances, and Taka sleeps lightly but otherwise fine.

Relationship: (slight mature warning)

When they touch, Taka swears he can feel the link between them flare to fuel them. Twin fires ignited. Mondo doesn't know about all that, but when their eyes meet it definitely makes him feel invincible, so, he can believe.

If they weren't already new boyfriends when The Tragedy hit, all this closeness makes sure of that soon after. Being together is their happiness and, for a while, their only link to pre-Tragedy lives. Vows not unlike marriage were exchanged one night. Where one goes, the other will follow. Anywhere. Always.

When they kiss, safe and alone, Mondo will ask what Taka wants; what he can handle that night. Sometimes it's just the kisses before passing out, sometimes it's more intimate touches to please them both after another hellish day.

Sometimes Taka will ask to be made love to, for obvious couple reasons, but also because Mondo inside him makes their tether feel stronger, more complete. Like going over the invisible line in bold marker. Taka believes any marks they can create with their mouths, any traces of themselves they can leave on or in each other, the easier they can find their bond and tap into it. (He had started a nervous habit of pressing in on lovebites to keep Ishida going when tired.)

Mondo tells him he doesn't need to find a poetic excuse for fetishes and Taka lovingly answers with a stomach punch.

Crazy Diamonds:

Mondo's gang members, the ones not dead or overcome with Despair, are slowly found and joined back up.

Any smaller and sturdier motorcycles are kept when found. If Mondo was able to keep his own in this version, it's a bit heavier than would be good for any off-roading--and much too loud for any stealth--but he refuses to part with it.

Every gang member respected Taka/Ishida the second they saw him fight beside their leader. Before Mondo says a word about him. They readily take orders from him in either form. The change in appearance was a surprise, but they're already used to some members wildly changing demeanor in or away from the gang, so it's easily accepted.

With the gang as backup to keep watch during downtime--after Ishida sized each one up and watched them for loyalty--the pair can feel a lot more relaxed. They joke about having a date in a blown-out restaurant they find, and they can finally enjoy a deep sleep.

When the group finds safehouses with more than one room, Mondo & Taka are given their privacy. Taka tries to insist everyone deserves a chance at privacy and they should rotate, but changing a gang's long-established hierarchy is a losing battle. And Mondo's not on his side because when they're alone he can be as sappy or touchy as he likes.

Legends:

Taka and Mondo save a lot of people over their journey and kinda become a legend that gets spread around and gives people Hope.

This area still needs work from me. Probably some research into Japanese myths and supernatural symbolism. A placeholder right now is something corny like "Two Men with burning eyes and thunderous voices will answer your cries for help. But if you're evil, the two will appear to you as One Demon and drag you down to the land of the dead."

There's also probably a need for costume changes since their color scheme is the same black & white of the Despair Remnants and monokumas killing people. Legend or not, it'd be easy for traumatized survivors to not know they're good guys at first.

Darker Moments: (blood, violence and vague attempted sexual assault)

After he killed a man to save Mondo, Taka luckily (he wouldn't use that word) doesn't have to again. Hurt? Yes. Beat unconscious? Yes. Maim? Yes, but some of the vile dregs of humanity are caught doing things that deserve worse--

--That deserve Mondo. Once when they were still traveling alone, a group of Remnants jumped them, managing to separate the two, and one knocked Taka out with a bad blow to the head. Mondo dispatched the others attacking him and got to Taka right as the Remnant was about to do something unforgivable.

Mondo snapped. He still doesn't remember what he did, he just remembers coming to in all the blood and dazedly picking Taka up to take him to a place he knew was safe.

Taka never finds out. He woke up a day later with a bandaged head and Mondo crying and kissing his hands. Mondo just told him he beat some and scared away the others.

Minor Details:

They try to always fight back-to-back and, to observers, seem to read each other's mind for where to move.

Taka/Ishida would use a sword or hand-to-hand. The pickaxe might just be a random pickaxe they find, if he uses it at all. Kinda hard to carry both a sword and a railroad pickaxe on your back, and I can't imagine it balances very well. (The size in official pics would be a 5lb head w/2-3lb handle.)

Mondo seems like he would use anything lying in debris to fight. Poles, pipes, chains. Aaaand maybe the knives he mentions in School Mode.

For any costume changes, Mondo would keep his jacket at least. A beacon for the Diamonds. Maybe a purple tank top, and different pants better for knife holsters. Unless the holster should wrap around his waist or hip instead?

Any changes to Taka's outfit would keep his armband. It's a reminder of his Talent and his goal to make Japan even better than before. Also wanna keep his boots or change to more rugged ones.

End Goal:

Obviously they'd end up in Towa, after the events of Ultra Despair Girls. They're reunited with Takaaki and Takemichi. Maybe they help set things right there a bit, or Makoto would get word to them about his plans vs Future Foundation's. Look at me, do I look like someone that knows how to end things?

There is no way you read all that. (I love you if you did.) But feel free to use all or any bits of it in your own works. Almost positive I'll never get to compose all this into a coherent fic format. I might update in short scenario posts under a 'Tragedy-survivor au' tag if I think of anything.

If you have a question or want something expanded upon, ask away.

[crystalas]

Starting to see

More of Demon Bull Divorce AU, this is set before Hindsight and Medical Muddles.

Warning: mentions of physical abuse.

Starting to See

It had been over two weeks since Red Son had shown up to pay back his father’s debt for helping them with the whole Lunar New Year event, which Pigsy was immediately suspicious about. He may be a modern demon but even he knew that if you had a dept you paid it yourself you didn’t send your kid to do it for you especially when you are demon royalty. He wasn’t giving Red Son a chance to try anything, despite MK and Mei’s arguments in the demon boy’s defence.

If Red Son wants to work off this debt, then Pigsy wasn’t going to let free labour go by so he quickly set the fire demon to work and surprisingly he didn’t resist or mind. He was currently cleaning out Pigsy’s tricky stove, all he had wanted was for him to fix it so he didn’t need to kick it every time he wanted it on. Red Son went above and beyond and had not only fixed it but was giving it a thorough cleaning and check-up, which is why he was currently trying to reach around the back of said stove to check the pipes. Red Son had taken off his jacket to avoid getting it stained with oil, grease and whatever else might have found its way at the back of the oven, as he stretched his shirt travelled up and that’s when Pigsy saw it.

“That’s one heck of bruise Red!” he whistled when he saw the markings peeking out. Red Son jolted back up as if he had been hit by an electric shock and pulled his shirt down.

“Do you mind?!” he snapped. “It’s bad enough having you stare at me the entire time now you’re ogling me?!”

“Heck yeah I’m keeping an eye on you demon boy, don’t want you planting a bomb or something in my kitchen when I’m not looking!”

“This stove was so broken give it a few weeks and it would have blown up on its own!” Red Son growled they stared at each other for a second before Red Son tugged his shirt down a second time before getting back to work. Pigsy watched him for a little while before giving a hefty sigh and walked over to the other side of the kitchen and pulled out a large basket that had a first aid symbol on it. Most kitchen had a small box for any small cuts and burns one might get while cooking, Pigsy’s was designed for wounds one might get fighting monsters and demons so it was far more extensive.

“Want me to fix you up?” Pigsy asked.

“Excuse me?” Red Son retorted “I do not need your pity!”

“Last I checked you’re here on your father’s wishes, I don’t want you going back and him seeing that and assuming we had anything to do with it!” Pigsy explained as he rummaged through the box but stopped and looked at Red Son “You didn’t get that from us, right?” Red Son shook his head before he carried on going through the basket. “At the very least he would be insulted that we didn’t at least tend to your injuries…” he pulled out a jar labelled ‘healing balm’.

Red Son grumbled under his breath as he tried to fight that logic and stood up, Pigsy gestured to a stool and the fire demon sat down with a thump with his arms crossed. Pigsy pointed at his top and with a reluctant sigh and took off his shirt, Pigsy resisted the urge to whistle or remark even further. He first thought the bruise ran along the base of his spine but it travelled up his back and along his side, it was a big ugly bruise of several shades.

Red Son flinched a bit when Pigsy started to apply the healing balm.

“So how did it happen?” Pigsy asked.

Now if Pigsy could claim a super power he could say his was a super sense of smell which should be obvious as to why, it was a brilliant boon in his industry as he could tell which herbs and spices have the best flavour for a dish and the freshness of his ingredients with a single sniff. Tang had remarked that it made food shopping with him an absolute pain in the ass but he didn’t have a world-famous dish for nothing. However, this also meant he could smell other things too.

Like fear.

And Red Son was suddenly reeking of the stuff, but what worried Pigsy more than that was the fact that Red Son still had his what Mei called ‘resting bitch face’ but he also noted that the fire demon had yet to answer.

“Well?”

“I fell out of my chair” he said casually as if Pigsy had asked him what he had for tea last night.

You fell out of a chair? Pigsy thought to himself. At what speed? Mach two?

Pigsy was brought back to the horrible memory of being in a similar situation with MK when he first came into his life. Sitting there trying to figure out why MK had burn marks that looked to be from cigarette butts on his arms but MK would swear up and down that they were ‘nothing to worry about’.

“When did it happen?” Pigsy carried on.

“About a week ago so they are on the mend, give them a few days it’ll be gone” Red Son replied and Pigsy knew that was a freaking lie. Demons healed fast; he should know he was one! This must have happened yesterday the day before at the most. Once again, the ease of which these excuses and cover ups came worried Pigsy.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself Pig man, I was just careless” Red Son stated, Pigsy finished applying the balm and started to put it back where he had gotten it from. Red Son watched him from the corner of his eye and gripped his hands to stop them from shaking.

Red Son wasn’t lying he had been careless. He should have known better than to be out of his room while his parents argued for what felt like the hundredth time that week, he had given up trying to mediate or stop them as it seemed that his mere presence made it worse.

It was his fault they were fighting after all.  It would be best if he stayed out of it for now.

He had been in the family study, he figured if he was out of the way then he couldn’t be a bother to anyone right? Red Son had found a new recipe book and was looking through for new stuff to try with his father when Demon Bull King wanted to relax or spend time with him.

He had been careless, he could have known better to be out in the open with a recipe book of all things, the very topic which seem to start these fights. He should have listened out for the door, the click of heels…

It had happened so fast, before he could even register what was going on he found himself caught in a hurricane gale that pushed him out of his chair and flying into a nearby bookcase sending the shelves and books crashing down on top of him.

He hadn’t been lying he DID fall out of his chair…

He gave a wince as he tried to clamber out and saw his mother standing there glaring at him with utter distain before glancing over to the desk he had been at, she picked up the recipe book with her finger and thumb as if it was a disgusting rag and threw it into a nearby bin with such force the bin skidded away a few feet.

“You better tidy up that mess you’ve made before your father sees it!” she declared coldly before walking away.

Red Son was glad he had come up with this plan, if anyone asked, he had the Debt to explain his reason for being there. He could stay out of the house for as long as possible and sneak back in before either parent noted his absence.

Not like they even noticed he was gone most days.

And it was nice to have people to talk to, Noodle Boy and Dragon Horse girl would chat to him about all sorts of stuff that intrigued him. Noodle Boy would show off his art and Dragon Horse girl her motorbike which got Red Son demanding the schematics. Mr Tang would talk to him about history and he was very interested on what Red Son had to say about demon culture. When there was a quiet moment in the noodle store they would just hang out and chill…

He felt a pang of guilt, he shouldn’t feel more at home with his enemies than his family. He shouldn’t feel like he had to hide from his own mother for his never-ending failures and mistakes, but here he was cowering under the pretence of an honour bound agreement because of the dumpster fire he had started at home. He should have never suggested the BBQ stand, he should have never even suggested such a peaceful means to get by.

He should have never come back…

“Hey Red!” Pigsy stated causing Red Son to pull out of the mental spiral he was in. “You alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your aid” he put his shirt back on, the ache of his injuries seeping away under the warmth of the balm. “I’ll get back to work now.”

As he returned to fixing and cleaning the oven, Pigsy watched him with growing concern on his face.

“Hey just so you know, if you ever had any more problem with ya know… “chairs” just let me know ok?” Pigsy offered and he could see Red Son stiffen slightly before he relaxed again and turned to face him.

“…thanks” he mumbled quietly.

[cimerran-714]

Hello! I hope you're doing well. The purpose of this short "composition" is to closely analyze some of the key H/Hr moments in the books (I haven't watched all the movies, so you won't find anything about the films here).

And I know it should be obvious, but I seriously don't mind the R/Hr or H/G ship. It's none of my business. So please refrain from taking anything out of context/misappropriate the things I say. I mean absolutely no offence to any Canon pairings.

Even if you don't ship them, I'm sure you can't deny that both Harry and Hermione have an incredibly close platonic relationship together. I've heard people narrate some of the "finest" H/Hr moments while explaining why they're fit to be soulmates. There's a high probability that you'd come across them when talking to a H/Hr shipper. However, there are a few scenes in the books (which, in retrospect, are really 'sweet') I haven't heard others talk about often.

In this essay, I'd like to share some of the best scenes in the Potter books, immediately followed by an underrated moment.

Let's dig in.

Best moment:

The hug in Philosopher's/Sorceror's Stone.

Ah, isn't it obvious? This is certainly one of the finest moments that kickstarts the strong dynamic between Harry and Hermione. I really like this scene. It's powerful on a number of levels.

Romione shippers tend to provide a parallel to exemplify the attraction between the remaining members of the Golden Trio (Hermione apologizing about Scabbers and sobbing onto Ron's shoulders). But in my eyes, there's certainly something different about her hugging Harry.

Firstly, we've got to consider the context. When Hermione embraced Ron, it happened on the second page of a different chapter. On the contrary, anything that occurs at the end of any chapter/book sticks in our minds for a long time.

I'm going off on a tangent here, just to make sure you get the point. This trope (though I'm not sure I can it that) happens a lot of times in the Harry Potter books.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

This scene hits home for a lot of reasons.

Look, most of us can't help feeling sorry for Harry here. His parents are dead, which (as McGonagall claimed) is a horrible thing to have happened. We've also seen at the beginning of the book that the Dursleys hate the Potters.

It's distressing to realize that a one-year-old is about to be raised by a family who doesn't like him at all.

And the fact that the entire wizarding world is celebrating Volde... sorry, You-Know-Who's downfall, while the boy sleeps on innocently (without any knowledge of what's just happened), is even more saddening. No, he simply couldn't know what'd happened to his life, that witches and wizards all over the country are toasting him.

It's bittersweet.

Moving on:

Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing his three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else -- glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

This is, yet again, another 'Aww' moment at the end of a chapter. How can you not feel sorry for Harry? Most thirteen-year-olds have already enjoyed a lot of birthdays in the past. But for him, it's something new.

He's glad that it's his birthday for the first time. If I didn't know better, JKR wants us to sympathize with Harry.

And here's a final example:

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

I do feel for Ron, getting attacked by a flock of birds was certainly uncalled for. But don't you get the point? The "sob" momentarily diverts our attention towards Hermione.

"Poor Ron, that must have hurt... oh, dear, Hermione's crying."

I think you know what I'm talking about. It's the same thing that happened when Hermione embraced Harry and called him a "Great wizard."

Yes, the H/Hr hug doesn't occur at the last line or anything, but it's certainly just a page before the chapter ends.

"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. "Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful!"

That's one reason why it's meaningful!

Also, note that Harry's just about to face the 'Big Bad' (at a moment when 'Danger lies ahead of them and safety lies behind'). No one's noticed them hugging, too.

And it wasn't in front of the Portrait Hall or anything, either.

It was deep beneath the ramifications of the castle. It was (probably) around midnight, too.

The situation (arguably, the fate of the wizarding world rests on Harry's shoulders now).

The dialogue ("You're a great wizard, you know" instead of "I'm so sorry about Scabbers")

The atmosphere (It was late at night).

The fact that they were just kids.

All of these make the hug so powerful.

Oh, and it was the first book in the series. 2- Underrated moment:

Harry (and yes, Ron too) saving Hermione from the troll.

What's interesting here is:

1- Harry was the one who immediately thought of Hermione after Dumbledore ordered the Prefects to take everyone to their dormitories (Not Ron).

2- Harry isn't smug about having just saved a stranger's life.

A stranger, moreover, who was considered "interfering".

On the other hand, Ron is a little git.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought -- Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

It's pretty obvious that, if given the choice, Ron would rather not go after the girl he'd teased in class.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Harry's saving both of their lives here (while endangering his own).

Remember that he's only eleven.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

Ron thinks they were doing Hermione a favour. Harry, however, is a tad more level-headed. And sensible.

Also, it's somewhat of a stretch, but I believe it proves the point that Harry's true nature is like his mother's (James Potter had boasted around after he saved Snape's life).

Yes, I know it's such a cliche, but Harry is pure at heart.

3-Best moment:

The "mythical" Hippogriff ride:

Now, I've personally never thought much of it. It's a good chapter, yes, but bringing animals into a Shipping war is just... meh.

It's the trust that Harry had in Hermione (when she pulled out the Time turner) that interests me.

Anyhow, it's a pretty common argument posed by H/Hr fans.

Quoting from Wikipedia:

In some traditions, the hippogriff is said to be the symbol of love, as its parents, the mare and griffin, are natural enemies. In other traditions, the hippogriff represents Christ's dual nature as both human and divine.

It occurred in the wee hours of the morning, so I suppose it does have a slightly "mythological" (I can't think of a better word) feel to it.

Again, I'm not sure I can call it my favourite part of the book, especially as Hermione wasn't enjoying riding on Buckbeak.

Underrated moment:

Having fun talking about Filch and Madam Pince.

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

For Romione shippers who believe that Harry and Hermione are "boring" together, it's a rude awakening.

No, the "arguing" doesn't mean they were actually in a disagreement. It's clear that both of them were having fun.

Enjoying their time, in fact.

It's one of the few 'Harmony' scenes in Half-blood Prince.

I do not believe that either of them was consciously aware of their feelings towards each other, either.

And if it's just a coincidence that they were enjoying talking about being in love, it's certainly a bizarre one.

4-Best moment:

Visiting Godric's Hollow together

"'The last enemy that shall be defeated is death'..." A horrible thought came to him, and with a kind of panic. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?"

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," said Hermione, her voice gentle. "It means... you know... living beyond death. Living after death."

But they were not living, thought Harry. They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

Hermione had taken his hand again and was gripping it tightly. He could not look at her, but returned the pressure, now taking deep, sharp gulps of the night air, trying to steady himself, trying to regain control. He should have brought something o give them, and he had not thought of it, and every plant in the graveyard was leafless and frozen. But Hermione raised her wand, moved it in a circle through the air, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed before them. Harry caught it and laid it on his parents' grave.

As soon as he stood up he wanted to leave: He did not think he could stand another moment there. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and she put hers around his waist, and they turned in silence and walked away through the snow, past Dumbledore's mother and sister, back toward the dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate.

If it was intended to be a totally platonic visit, why a pose that's very romantic? Also, as someone else had mentioned in their blog, Harry rarely (if never) initiates physical contact with anyone.

There's also a kissing gate present in the Church.

It seems as if JKR has got a flair for writing co-incidences that further cement the H/Hr relationship.

Underrated moment:

Ernie Macmillion's change of heart:

This is simply beautiful, and even more so as Macmillion was aware that Harry can speak Parseltongue (an ability commonly associated with Dark Wizards).

What happens when students are mysteriously turning into stone, and you figure out that one of them was "egging on" a snake during a duelling club? A boy, moreover, who dislikes the Muggles he lives with? Someone who managed to defeat Lord Voldemort himself?

Hmm...

The logical conclusion would be that Harry's got a hand in it. Ernie believed that Harry Potter was the one Petrifying everyone, even a few weeks/months after the attacks stopped.

What takes the Hufflepuff to bring him to his senses?

The fact that Harry would never harm his Muggle-born friend.

I know it's a little thing, but it shows that the whole school (indeed, Ernie belonged to a different House) was aware of how close Harry and Hermione were together.

Note that he'd apologized immediately after a double-attack.

"Harry, harm Hermione Granger? Impossible!"

Macmillian was the one being paranoid, and told tales about Harry to Hannah Abbot.

And yet a single thing changed his mind completely.

To wind up, I'mma give you another part from the first book:

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die." "Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-" "Harry! Harry, are you all right?" Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

What's noteworthy is that Hermione apparently doesn't care about staying close to Hagrid and protecting herself. She's so worried about what's happened to Harry that she's rushing along in front of Hagrid.

Throughout the books, you can see Harry being protective of Hermione.

The feeling's mutual ;)

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley chapter 8

A young man walked in.  His hair was dark, the style conservative.  The only thing that stood out about him was his high-collared jacket.

Aizawa knows who this man is, for much the same reasons that Uraraka knew Skyrunner.  

Fidelity had literally written the book on underground heroism. It hadn’t been published until his death.  

The lights flickered.  The murmuring of the shadows rose, then cut off abruptly, the shadows disappearing along with Nana.  The projector screen changed.  It now read:

Greetings 9’s Friends!  (And teacher.)

“This was my last mission briefing before I died,” said the young man.  “At least, that’s what I’d say if I was really Fidelity.”

“You’re saying you aren’t,” said Aizawa, keeping his voice level.  

The screen behind him changed to read Vestiges: what you need to know.

“I am based on Fidelity.  I’m also based on Railgun.”

“The hero who took down Destro?” asked Uraraka, clenching her fists and briefly floating in excitement.  

Why was she not getting a better grade in history?  

“Not exactly.  He wasn’t actually captured until years later.”

“But you broke his charge, his army!  And all by yourself!”

“Railgun did, yes.  I’ve put together a little presentation for you guys.  Hope you don’t mind.  We all figured you wouldn’t want to go any further without an explanation of sorts.”  He said this all with an enviably flat voice, despite his friendly words.  His body language was controlled and to the point.

Darn Midoriya for managing to build a fantasy that was so close to what Aizawa had always imagined the man to be like.  

(He was not a fan of Fidelity.  Underground heroes did not have fans.  It defeated the point.)

(He pointedly ignored his memories of the bootleg Eraserhead merchandise Midoriya and Yamada had snuck to Eri.)

“You’d be right,” said Aizawa.

“Cool,” said Six.  “Before we begin, I want you to understand that much of what I’m going to tell you will be a lie.”

“What?” said Iida, confused.  “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, there will be enough truth in it to get you through this safely, and enough falsehood to prevent the commission from taking advantage of Nine later, should they be watching what’s happening here with a quirk we can’t detect.”

“Nine?”  

“Izuku,” clarified Six.  

“Who you called Nine because…?”

“If we count in order of when we were supposedly born, he’s the ninth.  Although, really, he’s the first.  I’ll explain in a moment.”  He pointed to the screen.  “We call ourselves vestiges, and, like I said, we are all based on real people.  We’re part of Nine’s quirk.”  The screen switched to show Midoriya with eight shadowy figures behind him.  “I want to stress that Nine wasn’t aware of us until the sports festival. Specifically…”

The screen now showed Midoriya’s fight with Hitoshi, right before he broke his fingers.  Aizawa recognized the image as a still from one of the cameras.  Except those eight shadows were there as well, right in front of Midoriya.  

“You had something to do with him breaking his fingers and getting out of Shinsou’s quirk.”

“We don’t mix well with mental quirks, apparently. Nine minds all together at once are too many, even if eight of them are fictional.  It’s an interesting side effect.  Speaking of which.”

The new slide was a picture.  An edited picture.  Of a person giving a presentation.  

“Is that a meme?” asked Todoroki.

“Yes,” said Six.  

The slide read, You were never in All Might’s mind.  Nine was just confused.

That meme was so old Aizawa could feel himself taking psychic damage just by looking at it.  

“You’ve been passing through our, the vestiges’, mindscapes. Eight is simply based on All Might.”

That would be a relief, if not for the fact that that Six had admitted he was going to lie.  Also, there was something off about the whole explanation.  

Iida raised his hand.  “Excuse me!  You claim that you are part of Midoriya’s quirk, but you haven’t explained how!”

“I’m getting to that,” said Six.  “Todoroki-san, you’re the one who is always saying how similar Nine and All Might’s quirks are.  Do you have any theories?”

Todoroki’s eyes lit up, even though he kept his habitual deadpan expression.  “Midoriya is All Might’s secret—”

“We wish, but sadly no.  Pick a different one.”

Todoroki looked devastated.  He collected himself quickly, however.  “Midoriya’s strength,” he said, “he got it from All Might, didn’t he?”

“Yes.  Eight is a bit of a complicated case, since he’s based on someone who is alive and Nine knows personally, but in the end, he’s the same as the rest of us.”

“He said something about receiving Skyrunner’s quirk, earlier,” said Uraraka.  

“And Blackwhip…” said Iida.  

“You’re getting it,” said Six.  “Blackwhip originally belonged to Five, incidentally.”

“He has a copy quirk,” concluded Aizawa.  

Six nodded.  The screen changed.  “Right now, Nine has four quirks, three of which he can use freely.  Superpower, Blackwhip, and Float,” he read the quirk names off the screen.  

“And he’s going to get more?” asked Aizawa.

“Eventually,” said Six.  “We don’t want to overload his body—This whole process only kicked off when he met All Might.”

“And why you?” asked Aizawa.  “Why All Might, Skyrunner and these… Five others?”

“I would like to tell you,” said Six.  He raised a finger and waved it in a circle to indicate outside listeners.  

“What are the drawbacks?” asked Aizawa.  

“Hm?”

“The drawbacks.  I get dry eyes when I use my quirk.  Present Mic is deaf.  Vlad is anemic.  A quirk like this one has to have a drawback.”

“What, the broken bones aren’t enough for you?  Or the fact he didn’t hit on the activation conditions until he was fourteen?”

Aizawa stared, unimpressed.  

A tiny corner of Six’s mouth made itself visible over the collar of his coat.  “Well. I think you can make some conclusions but, again…”  He trailed off.  “There are a few more things you should be aware of.  First, Nine had no choice in who we are, although we all fulfil certain criteria.”

“Are you all relatives?” asked Todoroki.  

“Man, you never do give up, do you?” said Six.  “That’s a great quality in a hero.”

“Are you all heroes, then?” continued Todoroki.  

The slide on the screen changed again.  

Vestiges According to History:

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero

4. Vigilante

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

 “Unfortunately,” said Six, “no.”

.

Toshinori caught sight of the feathers first.  He had more experience as a hero, and, as he was no longer the primary user of One for All, the mental strain he was experiencing was much lower, comparatively.  His awareness of his surroundings was better.

Stay calm.  Don’t speak. Don’t run.  

Hawks could receive sensory input from his feathers, though neither Toshinori nor Izuku knew how much.  Better to be safe than sorry.  

We need to get out of the city.

Out of the country, too, for that matter, as much as it would hurt Izuku—

They couldn’t leave all their friends behind to face Shigaraki.  

A compromise could be reached.   They knew a few places���An island, near—

But first, the city.  The first priority was to evade pursuit.  

A bus pulled into the stop ahead of them, and they got on. If they could get outside city limits, where there were fewer people, fewer witnesses, Izuku could float them away. Also, Hawks was less likely to trap his feathers on a bus.  

We might be dealing with the Hawks problem earlier than thought.  

Izuku slouched back on the bus seat, covering his eyes. Toshinori looked up at the ceiling. The Hawks problem.  AKA, the others’ theory that Hawks had been raised as a child soldier, and Toshinori had missed the signs.  

Izuku put his hand on Toshinori’s knee.  

“I can’t believe it,” said one of the other passengers, a few rows ahead of them.  “I really just can’t believe it.  It’s like something from a horror story.”

“What?” asked someone else.  

“Look!”  

“Someone kidnapped All Might?”

The bus filled with chatter.  

Toshinori still couldn’t believe people thought Izuku kidnapped him.  The reality was closer to the opposite, honestly.  He’d have to apologize to Izuku’s mother…

There was a tiny incensed gasp from Izuku, and Toshinori saw Izuku glaring up at him.  Izuku made a series of gestures that could probably have been interpreted as ‘You can’t kidnap anyone, you’re All Might!’ even without the psychic link they were currently enjoying, then went into an enthusiastic tangent about how the commission was probably playing up the ‘crazy stalker fan’ angle.

Toshinori sighed, ruffled Izuku’s hair, and studiously avoided any and all thoughts about what he’d done to Aldera Middle School after Izuku had shown up to training with a black eye and bloody nose that one time.

“What?” squeaked Izuku, his eyes gone very wide.  

Drat.  

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw three passengers near the front of the bus stand up and felt his heart drop.  One of them had an obvious eagle mutation, the second had a bulging, almost spherical, neck, and the third had broad, flat-ended fingers.

Decades of hero experience told Toshinori exactly what was going to happen next.  Even before the guns came out.  

“Well,” said the eagle-headed man, “with all the heroes looking for the ‘Symbol of Peace,’ I guess this is our lucky day!”

“Nobody move!” demanded the man with the round neck. “This is a hijacking!”

Izuku let out an incredulous grunt next to him, but Toshinori could literally feel his mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, analyzing the quirks of the hijackers and possible motives.  

Really.  There was no way they weren’t going to help.  

.

“By the way, not all of Nine is awake, so, out in the real world his body is operating according to consensus.”

“Consensus of…” said Aizawa, not wanting to finish the thought as he stared at the two entries labeled ‘terrorist.’

“All nine of us together, yes.”

“That’s a pretty big drawback,” said Aizawa, his voice rasping against his throat.

“Eh.  It has its benefits.  Besides, Three and Two lived over a hundred years ago.  We didn’t even have the hero system back then.  Things change.”

“Excuse me!” said Iida, raising his hand.  “Why don’t the last four—the first four? —have names?”

“They asked me not to share them with you quite yet,” said Six.  “Don’t call Three a terrorist though.  That’s a bit of a sore spot with her.”  He looked off to the side.  

“And the quirks?” said Aizawa, hanging on to the very last bit of his will to live by the tips of his fingers.  “The ones I’m presumably going to have to teach Midoriya how to use?”

“Right.”

 Our Splendiferous Quirks

 8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero.  Quirk: Superpower.

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero.  Quirk: Float.

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero. Quirk: Internet Perception.

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero.  Quirk: Blackwhip.

4. Vigilante.  Quirk: Danger Sense.

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

 Aizawa was not surprised to see the last four entries, once again, had little information attached.  

“You know,” said Uraraka, “if you ignore the terrorists, this actually makes sense.”

“If you ignore the terrorists?” asked Iida, incredulous.

“I mean, think about who we’ve seen so far.”

“It is like Midoriya to have a split personality based on All Might,” agreed Todoroki.  Because split personalities were going to be his go-to theory, now that figments of Midoriya’s quirk’s imagination had shot down his ‘Dadmight’ conspiracy.  

“If you want to think of us as split personalities, sure,” said Six.  “We really don’t interact that much with the outside, though.”

“And Skyrunner is basically supermom,” said Uraraka. “Like, if she was All Might’s mentor, it makes sense that that’s what he’d envision her as.”

“Ah,” said Iida, “so she reminds you of Midoriya-san as well?”

Aizawa noticed Six shift uncomfortably and look away but decided he honestly did not want to know.  

“Oh, and you,” said Uraraka, spreading her hands to indicate Six, “are kind of like Aizawa-sensei!

“Except with more memes,” said Todoroki.  

“Yeah, except with more memes,” agreed Uraraka.  

Six faked a cough into his fist.  “Anyway, I think that’s everything…  No, wait.  Hawks.”

“Hawks,” repeated Aizawa.  

“Yeah.  We’re pretty sure he was raised and conditioned to be a slave for the commission from a very young age.”  Another pause.  Six turned to face Todoroki.  “Also, Dabi is probably your dead older brother, Todoroki Touya.”

“Oh,” said Todoroki.  

“What,” said Aizawa.  

“We’d just like someone in a position to do things with this information to have it.  Even if we were sure Nine would retain all this, he, ah.  The commission is doing a very good job of trashing his reputation.”

“Is this revenge?” whispered Todoroki.  “Did I push Midoriya too far?”

“Kid, you could beat Nine up on a weekly basis for ten years, and he’d still barely think of revenge.  Come on, I need to take you guys to Five.”

Barely, he said.  Meaning, he did think about revenge.  They had to get out of here fast; Bakugo’s life was in danger.  

.

There were lives in danger.  A simple robbery wouldn’t require this kind of setup.  These three needed hostages for some reason.  

Or…  Izuku traced the direction the three villains kept looking to the college student in the corner.  The young woman’s clothing was high quality, and she looked vaguely familiar.  

He couldn’t help but be exasperated.  Shigaraki Tomura was running around out there somewhere, and these guys were doing… whatever this was.  Causing problems.  He and Toshinori would have to try and evade Hawks after this.  

But exasperation wasn’t going to keep these people safe.  

Eagle-head looked like the leader at first glance, but on closer inspection, he was taking cues from the man with the squared-off fingers. The man with the round neck seemed to have a body expansion quirk of some type, possibly similar to Kendo’s, considering how his joints pulsed and how his clothing was designed with extra folds.

… He’d shown Toshinori a catalogue with similar clothing, once. But Toshinori had said that the ill-fitting look added to his disguise.  

In the tight confines of the bus, that would be dangerous. The best thing to do to him would be to throw him out when the bus came to a stop.

The quirk of the man with the square finger was a problem. It was probably an emitter type, rather than a transformation type.  Something to do with his hands, perhaps?

Honestly, the best thing to do for all of them, at least with regards to the people on the bus, would be to toss them off and then get the driver to gun it.  But then, what about people on the street?  These guys didn’t have any scruple against taking hostages, obviously.

“Hey, you, hand over the briefcase,” said the man with the round neck.  

Izuku glanced at Toshinori, who nodded.  Coils of Blackwhip ran up and down his arms under the sleeves of his suit, much more controlled and complex than Izuku had managed to date.  

Thanks for the help, Five.  

He slammed the briefcase into the eagle-headed man’s beak. Toshinori hadn’t skimped on anything when stocking the hideout, and the metal made immensely satisfying contact with bone.  Blackwhip shot out from near his elbow—like Sero—and wrapped around the hands of the gunmen, forcing their aim down.

The man with square fingers reacted first, raising his hand. Each fingertip emitted a flat, square pane that traveled in a straight line and got progressive larger.  Izuku pulled, slamming the man into the back of his own shield, because really, that was too slow, and how similar was this quirk to Crust’s?  Could the villain change the trajectory of his panels, or no?

Not the time.

The shield cracked as Izuku hit it from the other side, and Toshinori was throwing open the back door.  The man with the expanding quirk—and it was an expanding quirk—seemed to finally realize what was happening, and lashed out, but Izuku was faster than he was.  The spherical throat was evidently a weak point.  

“Can you stop?” Izuku asked the bus driver, who, tense as he was, slammed down on the brakes, making Izuku stumble.  He hauled the villains off the bus, Toshinori hopping off the back with the eagle-headed man a moment later.  

Well, that had happened.  

Izuku caught a flash of very distinctive red out of the corner of his eye.  

.

Six stopped.  “That isn’t good,” he said, looking slightly up.  There was nothing there that Aizawa could see, except for a collection of pipes.  They were travelling through a series of underground concrete passages in an effort to find ‘Five.’

“What is it?” asked Uraraka.  

Six’s form abruptly flickered and vanished.  Oh, that couldn’t be good.  

“Sensei.”  

Aizawa turned to see Midoriya standing behind them, wearing a truly godawful pinstriped suit.  He held his right wrist in his left hand, an odd bracer wrapped around it.

“Is that the Full Gauntlet?” asked Uraraka.  “Why-?”

Midoriya flashed a quick smile in her direction.  “I’m sorry, sensei, this is really last minute, but I need you to tell me how to use your quirk.”

.

We absolutely can’t strike first.

They wanted to.  They knew this would turn into a battle.  The first strike was an advantage they couldn’t discount.  

Win the battle and lose the war.  

He could see the cell phones already out, held bystanders not quite broken from the habits gained in All Might’s era.  Even with the Hero Commission already slandering him, this would affect the narrative.  If he ever hoped to be welcomed back to hero society, or even the public’s good graces, in any way shape or form, he could not be seen starting a fight with a hero.  Much less the current number two hero.  

“I don’t suppose you’ll make my job easier and release All Might from your mind-control quirk,” said Hawks, tone conversational despite the fact he was standing at least two stories above them in the air.  

“I don’t have a mind-control quirk,” said Izuku, reaching up to the knot of his tie.  

“And I’m not being mind-controlled,” said Toshinori, loosening his mask.  

Hawks actually paused.  “Oh my gosh,” he said, raising one hand to his mouth like a scandalized housewife, “I didn’t realize that was you!  What happened to your hair?”

“I… cut it off.”

“That’s, uh.”  Hawks quickly regained control of his expression.  “Terrible that this villain made you do that.”

Hawks’ heart wasn’t entirely in this apparently.  

Just as apparently, that had no bearing on what Hawks was actually going to do.  

.

“You’ve seen me use my quirk,” said Aizawa.  

“I know, and that’ll be helpful, too, but how do you use it?  What’s the feeling you get when you use it?  How do you activate it?  What’s the internal mechanism?  This is important.”

“Why?” asked Iida.  “What’s going on Midoriya?”

“It’s—” Midoriya’s form flickered.  He took a deep breath.  He was now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.  “I’m in a fight right now, and it would be useful,” he reported, calmly.

“Please tell me it isn’t with my mind-controlled unconscious body,” begged Aizawa, “or the League of Villains.”  

“It isn’t.”

Thank goodness.

“I’m fighting Hawks.”

Why.  

No, ask questions later.  The Problem Child needed help now.  To fight the number two hero.

He didn’t know how knowledge about his quirk could be useful in a fight against Hawks, but the claim was far, far too stupid to be a lie.  

“When I turn on my quirk, I—”

.

Blackwhip unfurled from his arms like a dark version of Shouji’s quirk, tearing his sleeves to shreds and dislodging the feathers that had been imbedded there.  The ends wrapped around feather after feather, splitting into dozens and dozens of pseudo-arms.  Izuku was amazed.  

Someday, he would be able to do this on his own.  

For now—

For now, he was fighting Hawks, who had trained since childhood to fight on behalf of the commission.  

For now, he was a hero student, with only a few months of practical experience.  

For now, he was a fugitive, on the run and desperate.  

For now, he was host and member of One for All, and collectively they had been heroes for over a hundred years.  

And Toshinori had his back.  

They wrapped the silk tie around his knuckles.  Any protection for the bones in his hands was valuable.  In the other, they adjusted the briefcase.  They had only rarely used weapons in the last hundred or so years. Usually, their quirks made weapons overkill.  

But before that—Before that, things were different.  For a while, One and Two had used swords, of all things.  

This battle was much more even than it looked.  

Their victory condition: Escape with Toshinori.  

Their failure conditions: Civilian injury, serious injury to Izuku or Toshinori, or capture of either Izuku or Toshinori.  

To avoid the first point of failure, it was best for them to get away from the vulnerable civilians.  They didn’t want to give away float so soon in the game, so…  

They grabbed the edge of a building with Blackwhip and launched Izuku upwards, flinging feathers away from him.  Toshinori would follow and provide the group with a second perspective.  

Hawks did not expect to be joined in the air.  An incredulous smile graced his lips.  Izuku smiled back and catapulted himself directly into Hawks.

“You know,” he said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile for real!”

.

“What?” asked Hawks, startled.  He wasn’t one to have meaningful conversations with people he was supposed to bring in, but a statement like that had to be responded to.  

Even if most of his attention was on the quirk that Midoriya controlled with much more proficiency than indicated by his school records.  The kid was good, had good instincts when it came to battle, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get past Hawks’s guard, or to really close the distance between them.

“Your smile!” said Midoriya.  “When I was younger, I didn’t realize it, but once I knew the truth behind All Might’s smile, I understood!”  

“Did you, now?” asked Hawks.  

“Underneath,” said Midoriya, “your face is a lot like Todoroki’s!  It’s—”

Conversation during a battle was usually a distraction, to the person employing it as a tactic as well as the target.  Somehow, though, Midoriya was subverting that rule.

“It’s actually really sad!” exclaimed Midoriya, breathless, but apparently genuine, not mocking.  “Who hurt you?”

“Heh,” said Hawks.  This kid knew.  How? “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

“Gotta hand it to the commission, they really did a number on you,” said Midoriya, briefly touching down on a rooftop.  “Why do you keep doing their dirty work for them?”

He was using that second quirk, but not his strength.  Was it a matter of ‘won’t’ or ‘can’t?’  Either way, it was something to keep an eye on.  

“Why don’t you—” Hawks briefly managed to pin Midoriya by the edge of his jacket, but the boy tore free easily.  “—fly free?”

“You’re one to talk,” said Hawks.  “What did you trade to All for One for those quirks?”  He didn’t actually believe Midoriya was in league with All for One.  Even tangentially, through proxies, they’d been at odds too many times, not to mention the videos he’d been shown by the commission of Midoriya and All Might interacting.  The connection there couldn’t be faked.

He’d know.  He’d tried so many times.

(Was trying now, with the League of Villains.)

(Midoriya wasn’t one of them.)

But he had a job to do.  

Besides.  Even he had to admit the commission had a point.  The quirks had to come from somewhere.  

(Just because Midoriya didn’t willingly associate with All for One didn’t mean he hadn’t been forced.  Didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten out.)

(All Might was protecting him.  How did they know each other?)

“Wouldn’t you take any hand offered to you if the person behind it offered to make you what you always wanted to be?”

Midoriya tilted his head to one side.  “Nope!” he responded, cheerfully.

.

On the street below, Toshinori coughed, blood splattering his sleeve.  What had Izuku been doing when he was younger, to get involved with so many dangerous and disturbing people?

It wasn’t my fault!

Kid really is a trouble magnet.  

Oh, heck, I think I recognized that one—

Really, with that sharp mind, and Izuku’s propensity for both curiosity, helpfulness, and, well, finding trouble, it was a miracle he’d stayed alive for so long.  

Wouldn’t call it a miracle, sonny—

HAHA I can’t believe he thought that was a dream.  

In his defense, a dream makes more sense than—

Guys.  Focus, please?

Yes.  This was not the time to discuss… that.  Now… Well.  Toshinori had a role he could play in this battle, even as he was, and—

Hawks and Izuku’s path over the rooftops mapped itself out in his mind.  

Oh, no.  

Izuku wasn’t evading Hawks.  

He was being herded by him.  

.

They tucked and rolled across the pavement, Blackwhip cocooning them and breaking their fall.   This was significantly more than what Five, what Daigoro, could use back when he was alive.  It took everyone’s efforts to keep everything going.  

Wait for it, they reminded themselves, bouncing back to Izuku’s feet.  

Izuku looked up.  This… was not a good position.  Hawks had forced them into the entertainment district.  They couldn’t trust that the fancy facades and art instalations of the buildings would hold up to Blackwhip.  Not to mention, in places like this…  He glanced around.  

Fourth Kind.  

Kesagiriman.

Slugger.  

Death Arms.  

There would be more, soon.  This was… less than good.  Maybe they should just grab Toshinori’s body and launch themselves with Blackwhip and Float, as far as they could.  They’d lose a lot of their advantage on Hawks, but at least then they wouldn’t be fighting five different heroes.  

Izuku gritted his teeth in something like a smile.  Five different heroes.  Well.  Nine on five wasn’t bad odds.  

.

Suzuku pulled himself along the ground, trembling.  He had been falling for—for ages by the time that witch woman had disappeared.  Why she had disappeared, he couldn’t guess, but…

Falling.  

So much falling.  

And hitting the ground again, and again, and again.  

You invaded our minds, said the woman, don’t complain when we counter with something psychological as well.  

Something like a laugh bubbled up from his throat.  

You can leave whenever you want, can’t you?

He’d show her.  He’d show her and find all her secrets.  Just see if he didn’t.  

.

Fourth Kind, Kesagiriman, Slugger, and Death Arms all had very physical, straightforward quirks.  Out of all of them, though, Death Arms was probably the most problematic, followed by Slugger and his long-range attacks.  

None of them held a candle to Hawks, of course.  Which was the reason why Death Arms in particular was so problematic.  

In order to deal with Hawks’s feathers, they needed Blackwhip. But using Blackwhip and One for All’s signature superstrength at the same time wasn’t something Izuku’s body was used to.  They were limiting it to small bursts.  Death Arms’ own physical enhancement quirk, while miniscule compared to One for All’s current stature, was nothing to sneer at.  

If Death Arms—or any of the other heroes—landed a solid blow, that could be it for Izuku.  

They refused to be locked away again.  

That’s when it happened.  

A scene played across Izuku’s inner eye:

A frosty morning.  A little boy with dark hair.  A farewell. Tears.  

He flubbed the landing and a sharp pain lanced through his ankle. Blackwhip wrapped it, giving it much needed support.  

He started to rise, only to drop to avoid one of Slugger’s patented Home Run Pitches (tm).  

The ball spun, ricocheting off the stainless steel of an art installation before drilling right through a wooden beam on a bit of scaffolding holding up part of a building that was being refurbished.  Izuku let out a breath of relief (there were still people around who hadn’t learned how to run away from a dangerous fight) before they returned to the dance with Hawks’s impressively huge number of feathers.  

Blackwhip could keep up with them, barely, but Izuku was tiring. He couldn’t take much more of this.

He needed an opening to get to Toshi—

Another scene:

She couldn’t be pregnant.  Not now. Not right after giving away another. The next time Sorahiko suggested drowning her troubles in sake, she was going to shove it straight up his blowholes, no matter that he was probably just as drunk as she was.  

This slip almost resulted in Izuku getting his face punched in by Death Arms.  Considering what he’d just learned, he’d almost welcome that fate, if it made him forget.  Plus, it might have been funny for the ultimate battle of ultimate destiny, the show down between One for All and All for One, to take place between not one, but two potato-headed individuals—

There was a sharp crack from above as the damage Death Arms had done to the scaffolding made itself known.  

Izuku didn’t have to think before moving.  

.

“Alright,” said Midoriya.  “I think I’ve got it.  Thank you, sensei.”  He looked young, now.  Barely primary school age.  

“I’d feel a lot better,” said Aizawa, “if I knew what you needed this information for.”

“Oh!  That’s simple.  You see, it’s my theory that the overlap in mechanisms between my quirk and Saito-san’s might allow for interesting emergent behaviors.  Specifically, her quirk bridges a gap I’d normally have no way of crossing, although there’s certainly drawbacks.  It’s like what we tried earlier, when I asked you to use your quirk.  Although, I am hoping for different results than what I was looking for back then.  I think, with what you’ve given me, and this processing time…  Yes, this should work.”  He clenched a fist.  “These remnants—I can use them!”

Remnants.  Vestiges.

Aizawa frowned.  Something… something wasn’t right, here.  The explanation Six had given them…

“Just keep going this way, for now.  Six will try to get back to you as soon as possible.  I have to go now!  I love you guys!”

He then faded out.  While waving.  

“Wow,” said Uraraka.  “Izuku-kun sure was a cute kid.”

Aizawa couldn’t argue with that.  

“Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki.  “You’re blushing.”

He wouldn’t lower himself to argue with that.  “This conversation is illogical.  Let’s go.”

“Sensei is weak to little kids,” observed Todoroki.  

And if they ever discovered they could remove the ‘little’ in that sentence and have it still be accurate, he’d never live it down.  

.

Hawks saw the eyes first, shining through the dust like two perfect green coins.  Then every one of his feathers went dead, and he started to fall.  

Sensation returned just in time for him to avoid hitting the ground at speed and, just as quickly, vanished again.  

A breeze blew cleared the dust away.  

Midoriya Izuku stood under the collapsed scaffolding, holding it up with black tendrils and sparking green arms.  If this scene had been all that there was, an observer might be forgiven for wondering why he was holding up the scaffolding like that.

But Hawks knew.  If Midoriya hadn’t caught the scaffolding, even he wouldn’t have been able to get those civilians out from underneath it in time.  He glanced to the side, where the almost victims were standing up. Normally, he’d just trust his feathers, but…

“Is that Eraserhead’s quirk?”

“Don’t worry, I asked Eraserhead-sensei for permission, first.”

“What kind of monster—” started Death Arms.  

“Don’t you dare, Mister ‘my quirk isn’t suitable.’” Midoriya shifted the scaffolding to one side and shrugged himself out from underneath it.  “As heroes, aren’t you supposed to consider the civilians around you?”  He laughed. “I guess we’re still a little bitter about that.”

.

Izuku was putting on a good show, but he was reaching the end of his endurance.  Plus, he could already hear the sirens of police cars and the exclamations that followed large groups of heroes on the move.  

Good thing, then, that Toshinori was about to round the corner in three… two… one… There!

To an outsider, Blackwhip wrapping around Toshinori probably looked violent.  In reality, everyone operating the quirk was intimately aware of everything wrong with Toshinori’s body and did not want to add to his problems.  They could have probably grabbed an egg like this.  

Grabbing the newly-exposed concrete and rebar of the building behind Izuku, they launched themselves up.  At the top of their arc, they activated Float.  Blackwhip reeled Toshinori in, and they held onto each other as Izuku prepared to use air pressure to launch themselves forward.  

He hadn’t blinked yet.  

His eyes really hurt.  

(And so did everything else.)

He aimed and kicked against the air, sending them soaring away.

They had escaped.  

.

Tomura ducked behind the wall at the top of the building, glad that his party had put so many points into stealth, because he was not touching what had just happened with a ten-foot pole.  He’d rather be shot again.  He’d rather fight Machia for a week straight with no rest breaks.  He’d rather listen to Sensei try to give him the birds and the bees talk.  

What was that?  Huh? What kind of a broken character build allowed for that kind of combat ability?  The mods had to be asleep.  If he were in charge, he’d nerf it, pronto.  

That was a lie.  He’d take it for himself.  

Still.  

“Uh, Shigaraki?  Boss man?  You okay there?” asked Spinner.  

“No,” decided Shigaraki.  

Suddenly, making all of them jump, Toga squealed.  “Did you see him?  Did you see Izuku-kun?  He was so cute with his nose bleeding like that!”

“Hey,” said Dabi, “are we going after the green kid or what?”

“No,” decided Shigaraki, for the second time in as many minutes.  And then, “Gimme the phone.  We need to call the doctor to get us out of here.”

They did, but that was pretty much secondary to his primary objective, which was to cuss out the doctor concerning the cursed knowledge that was currently trying to escape his skull with a pickaxe.  

.

“Um,” said Inko.  “Aren’t you going to get that?”  She pointed at the phone that had been buzzing on the table for the past several minutes.

“No,” said Garaki, pretending to sip at his tea.  “You were saying?”

[crimson-mage-02]

Fallen Raven

Summary: One night, Damian had begun having nightmares of his beloved dying and didn’t want it to become true as he desperately wanted to prevent it from happening.

@eleanore-delphinium @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @whereflowersbloom @srose-foxfire here you all go! 

He was in a dark and abandoned building with cloth blowing in the wind slowly. He went through spider web and felt the cold wind against his face. He was looking around to see if his teammates and Raven were there in the room. But he could not find them in the dark.

He nearly trapped over and looked down to see his friend, Conner on the floor injured. He bent down to aid him only to see his clothes were all ripped and stained with blood. He looked around and saw his brother, Starfire, and everyone in the team all injured. No sign of Raven anywhere which made himself worried and concerned about her safety.

“Raven! Where are you?! Rachel!” Damian called out to her.

“You’re too late, Damian.” Deathstroke’s voice echoed through the room as the young hero unsheathe his sword and looked for him.

“Where are you Slade? Come out you coward!” Damian growled as he turned around and saw him holding onto Raven with her clothes ripped, while seeing red symbols all over her body including on her forehead. He also saw her short hair had grown longer.

“You are too late to save her, Damian. Oh, and Happy Birthday.” Slade cackled as he let go of Raven with Damian dropping his sword and ran to try and catch her, but Slade held him back, making him watch her fall down to her own demise.

“NO!”

(~)

“NO!” Damian jolted from his sleep and sat up with cold sweat and looked around his room, seeing it was only a dream. He panted heavily and ran his hand through his hair and heard the doors opening. He saw Raven coming in a hurry, looked concerned about him. “I am alright, Rachel. It is just a dream.”

“More like a nightmare. I can tell.” Raven shock her head, seeing it wasn’t the case.

“Don’t try and read my mind, Rachel.” Damian sighed sharply as he turned to the side and took the covers off of him. His back was facing her and he sighed heavily.

“I wasn’t reading your mind. I do not need to read your mind. I can see that you are distressed.” Raven pointed out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Just try and relax and go to sleep. We can do our meditation exercise tomorrow during training.” She left him alone in his room and went back into hers across the hall. She could’ve sworn he looked terrified when he first saw her when she came into his room before hearing him shouting out.

Damian sighed and went back to sleep. He laid his head back and tried to go back to sleep. Trying to forget it was all a dream. Maybe tomorrow it will not continue to make him go off guard. He saw all of his teammates in a bad shape, beaten up by Slade. He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes as he buried his face in his pillow, he remembered the state Raven was in his dream. But to him, it felt real to him.

(~)

In the morning, Damian walked along the hallway and saw Jaime was on the phone talking to someone with a bright smile. He sent him a thumbs up with a grin. “Y-Yeah, sure, I’ll be there! Heck yeah! I don’t want to miss it. See you at 6.”

“Is it your girlfriend of yours?” Damian asked with a smirk.

“Oh, uh, we haven’t made it official yet, but I uh, am taking her to see a movie.” Jaime rubbed his neck nervously with a chuckle. “As well as taking her for some pizza.”

“Sounds romantic.” Damian smiled at his friend.

“Oh, come on, how about you and Raven?” Jaime asked him, going into the kitchen to eat breakfast with Damian getting some tea out for himself and his friend was getting some eggs and toast ready.

“Me and Raven are nothing but friends.” Damian replied simply, composing himself.

“Hmm, I am not convinced by that, Damian. You and Raven seemed very much like a couple. I know you guys want to keep it secret until the time comes.” Jaime said with a smile.

“How long have you known?” Damian asked him.

“Not long. I mean, it was pretty much obvious.” Jaime replied, giving him his toast with egg and butter. “I knew when you started to her to take her to Gotham.”

Damian grumbled underneath his breath and looked away from Jaime who smirked. He was only taking her to Gotham because they were having their mission there and had to stay over the night while she was injured during a fight. He sighed, seeing he was now alone in the kitchen to make his breakfast.

Then he heard footsteps thinking it is Jamie. “Back on it, again are we?”

“Back on what again?” Damian gasped softly turning around to see Raven. In a shirt and a light lavender shorts and had her hair in a little ponytail. “Uh, apologises, I thought you were Jaime.”

“Oh, well, he left already and it’s just the two of us in the Tower now.” Raven said slowly going up next to him getting her own cup from the cupboard. “So, what’s your plans for today?”

“The usual, I train and train. Nothing else is planned.” Damian replied, drinking his tea.

“Hmm. You seemed disturbed about something from your ‘not dream’. Are you sure you are okay?” Raven asked with great concern.

“Yes, I am sure. There is nothing to worry about.” Damian assured her as he sat on the couch with her sitting beside him with her legs on his lap. He was used to sitting next to like this. He was uncomfortable at first and he secretly liked it. He looked over her, seeing her drinking her coffee with her eyes glancing into his. As if she was trying to figure out what is really bothering him from last night.

“You really want to know?” Damian sighed heavily, putting his cup on the table in front of them while holding her legs in his lap, making sure she doesn’t fall.

“Yes, we have been secretly going out for a while and I am worried that you hiding something from me.” Raven said putting her cup behind her on a small table. She turned back to see Damian, leaning back on the couch, covering his face.

Raven sat on his lap with his hands on her thighs and he looked up at her, feeling her hands caressing his face. “Damian… just tell me what happened and then we can try and solve it.”

Damian sighed and looked away from her for a moment then back into her eyes. “Alright. But I must warn you, you might not like it.”

After he had explained what he had seen in his dream, vision, or nightmare. She sat in deep silence with the young Wayne looking down at his clasped hands in front of him. “Did…that really happen in your dream?” Raven asked softly.

“Yes, all I ever saw was darkness, the whole Team injured with you being held by Slade with all those red markings all over you and on your forehead. I-I saw him letting you go, and you fell down the Tower.” Damian said softly, not looking at her.

“Well, that is just a dream, Damian, it might not happen. I am still here.” Raven said to him, putting her hand on his. “I won’t die unless I know you are going to be okay.”

“But a world without you in it, I don’t think I will ever live on.” Damian scoffed, looking away from her, but still held her hand in his.

“Damian… people come and go. Live the moment, you know.” Raven said, holding onto his hand tightly. “I want to enjoy every moment with you, while I’m still alive. It is not going to happen.”

Damian looked at her with a gentle smile and was about to lean in until Gar barged in. “Hello! Good morning!” He glared at him for interrupting their moment and Raven just calmly drank her tea.

“Oh, sorry, lovebirds, I am just excited. So, uh, what are you doing for the rest of the day?” Gar asked his teammates.

“Training.”

“Meditating.”

“Oh, uh, that’s great. I just uh, get some grocery then. Tara and Donna are out for shopping. Why aren’t you with them Raven?” Gar asked.

“Uh, well I insisted they can go on ahead while I do meditation and other things to care of.” Raven replied, finishing her tea. Damian and Raven thought they both were alone in the Tower. They would’ve had the whole Tower to themselves to have time for themselves.

“Anyways, I’ll get going, any requests?” Gar asked.

“Some more milk and some more bread. We also need toiletries.” Damian replied as he got up from the couch. “Raven, you need anything else?”

“Hmm, I’ll just send you a text Gar.” Raven replied as she stood from the couch and then put her cup in the sink.

“Alright, then. I’ll be getting them and uh, I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Gar smirked at the two. Damian sighed in annoyance and then went out of the kitchen but looked back at Raven who leaned on counter.

“Raven I do assure you, that dream will not happen. I promise.” Damian said, putting both of his hands on each side of counter where she was leaning. She nodded slowly with him kissing her lightly on the lips and pressed their foreheads together.

(~)

Starfire and Nightwing led the team onto their assignments in taking down criminals in Jump City. Jaime, Traci, Donna and Conner were with Starfire. Damian, Raven, Tara, Garfield, and Kid Flash were with Nightwing. Both separate teams were taking down some cult members to some secret organization.

Raven took down two cult members with Damian swinging his sword at them with Kid Flash, running through the field, hitting, and kicking them onto the ground with Tara trapping them with her boulders.

Garfield had hunted a few with Nightwing. “Alright, this should be it.” Gar went to Tara’s side who was standing with Raven.

“Kori said she had captured one with a symbol on his forehead. She wants to see you Raven.” Nightwing said to the young girl with Tara raising her eyebrow in suspicion.

“Why would a cult member want to see Raven? I don’t like this Rae.” Tara said, turning to her friend.

“Me either, Grayson. Can’t I go with her to see this…. Cult member?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, Damian. But the cult member only ask for her.” Nightwing replied as he narrowed his eyes. “And only Raven. No one is to disturb them.” Damian scoffed softly as he crossed his arms. He wanted to stay by her side at all cost if something does happen to her.

On way back to the Tower, Raven went into the interrogation room with Starfire and Nightwing waiting with their cult member being seated. With cuffs on. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.” Nightwing said to her.

“And we’ll be checking on you soon. Just call us if you needed help, Raven.” Starfire smiled at her and then they both left her alone with the cult member. Kori and Dick stepped out of the room and saw Damian who was waiting outside for her.

“Damian, she’s going to be fine. I am sure of it. She’ll pull through.” Dick assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I know… it’s just I wanted to make sure she is fine.” Damian said to his brother, not wanting to tell him about his nightmare he had last night. Not wanting him to worry over him so much.

“Why don’t we all go to living room to eat up? To keep up our strength?” Kori suggested.

“That’s a great idea, come on.” Dick wrapped an arm around Damian and casually dragged him in the hallway with Kori smiling brightly at the sight of the two brothers fooling around in the hallway.

Raven was sitting on the chair, waiting patiently, staring at the cult member in front of her. He or she wasn’t saying anything for the past 10 minutes. She sighed softly and took off her hoodie with her medium length hair flowed down on her shoulders. She doesn’t know what to do in the meantime, but she could always try and read the cult member’s mind.

She concentrated on getting into the cult’s mind, but it was clouded by a thousand thoughts until she felt a sharp pain in her head. Then opened her eyes, seeing fire surrounding her. She coughed violently, there was no oxygen. She saw destruction in front of her, buildings broken down. Windows cracked and heard horrid screams from the people.

She stumbled back until she hit something. Hands were on her shoulders and she shuddered in fear, as she looked up seeing it was Slade. “Hello, Raven.”

She screamed in terror with her eyes glowing white with red symbols appearing all over her body as her hair started to grow with Slade throwing her on the ground with the cult members grabbing her as she shouted out.

“……Raven!” She opened her eyes seeing everyone in the room with Damian helping her up. She sat up, looking at everyone looking at her in concern.

“Whoa, you okay Raven? You look like you had seen a ghost.” Tara said with Donna and Traci nodding in agreement.

“Maybe you should take a few days to rest up.” Traci suggested with hands clasped together.

Raven looked back at the cult member and saw him all completely drained and was left in a catatonic state. She then looked at herself and looked for the markings she had seen in her vision. She sighed seeing it wasn’t glowing in front of them.

“Raven? Are you alright?” Kori asked her.

“Y-Yes, just a bit shaken up.” Raven nodded, not looking at her in the eye.

“Alright, Damian, take her to her room. Everyone else, get some rest while Dick and I handle this. We will talk about this in our tomorrow morning’s brief.” Kori said to everyone. Damian nodded and walked with Raven by his side. He watched every move she does, seemed moving towards the elevator slowly. He could tell she was shaken up by what she had seen.

Once they walked inside the elevator, Damian turned to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, only to see her all shaken up. She took a few steps back from him and then calmed down. “Sorry, Damian. I am…. Just…”

“I know. You had seen something in his mind.” Damian said. “What is it that you saw in his head? Let me see through your eyes.”

Raven looked over at him and then took off her hood. “I don’t want to get you in a catatonic state.”

“You won’t. Do you trust me, Raven?”

“But—”

“Do you trust me?” Damian asked again as he looked into her eyes determinedly. He was willing to try and help her overcome her fears and anything that scares her. She knew that he wouldn’t give up that easily to help her and the rest of the team.

“Alright, meet me in my room after you get changed.” Raven sighed in defeat as she stepped out of the elevator with Damian frowning in concern.

Later that night, Damian had changed into his normal short and pants. He sighed as he walked across the hall to Raven’s room. He knocked on the door three times. The door slid open to see Raven in a blue blouse with black leggings.

He went into her room slowly and sat down on the floor with her sitting in front of him. “You sure you want to do this?” Raven asked softly.

Damian didn’t say anything but just to grab her hands. She was trembling. Shaking in fear. He knew she was afraid to hurt him. He trusts her with all of his heart. He placed both of her hands each on his temple. She nodded and she closed her eyes and let him inside her head once again. Damian frowned when he opened his eyes seeing he was in a pit of darkness. He looked around until he saw the symbols in front of him then saw fire was surrounding him.

Damian gasped softly, hearing heavy footsteps and saw Slade in front of him. He charged at him with a single punch and then he opened his eyes, seeing Raven had let go of his temples and sat in front of him, not looking at him.

He panted softly. “Slade…. He’s…. He has the same symbol in his forehead.”

“Yes, I saw it as well. He is after me with those cult members.” Raven nodded.

“We must warn the others.” Damian said urgently as he stood up and looked down at her. “I-I don’t want to lose you. And it’s risky to let you go on missions with us.”

“What? But I want to help, Damian.” Raven argued, standing up, looking into his eyes desperately. She wanted to help and never felt like she is useless to anyone, especially Damian. He looked away from her and remembered his nightmare he had. He doesn’t want her to die not at all. He wanted her to live the life she’d deserve.

Early in the morning, Raven had woken up and was on the rooftop watching the sunrise. She stood up with her cloak covering her body with the wind blowing gently. She sighed softly and looked at her arms seeing more symbols were appearing and glowing. She narrowed her eyes and closed her eyes to pray that Slade won’t go after her.

She heard the door was opened and saw Damian beside him in his normal attire, watching the sunrise. He didn’t say a word and wanted to enjoy the sunrise with her. He looked away with a small blush as Raven felt his hand was intertwining with hers. She smiled a bit and held his hand tightly and cherished this moment with him as the sun shone brightly beyond the horizon.

The two went down to the lounge and saw Kori and Dick were already there. “Oh, you two are early. We are just going to wait for the others.” Kori smiled, greeting the two.

Raven and Damian both sat away from each other with Donna arriving to the lounge and had a conversation with Raven. Damian glanced to the side to see Raven smiling at the Amazonian next to her. Dick noticed the longing looks they had given each other and smiled. Damian glared at his brother who now knew of their relationship. He also knew he can keep a secret. For now.

After a few minutes, everyone else had arrived and started the brief. “Alright, as far as we now know is that Slade is out there hunting for cult members.”

“And he will be out there in the city, so whenever you are out there in the open. Make sure to keep your comm on at all times.” Dick said as he looked at Damian who had his arms crossed. “Damian, is there anything you would like to add?”

Damian looked at his brother, Kori and his teammates with Raven not looking at him. “Raven did have a vision of Slade. He is after her. Only her.”

Everyone all looked at Raven in concern as well as Kori and Dick. “Alright. Thank you for telling us. Well, I think it’s best if Raven stays here. Damian, would like to volunteer in looking out for her?” Kori asked him.

“Yes, I would like to do that.” Damian responded quickly.

“What? But I want to help, Kori. I want to be out there stopping him!” Raven exclaimed desperately at the two older leaders.

“Raven, if Slade is after you, he’ll mostly likely to kill you.” Dick reminded her. “If Slade is after you, then it might be possible your dad might.” Raven stayed quiet and then thought this through, thinking he could be right. Her father might come back to get her. Or worse after her family.

“Okay, while Raven and Damian stay here, all of us will be patrolling the city. Any other questions?” Kori asked. Everyone shook their heads as they moved on with their activities and training until nightfall.

All day, Raven was meditating to clam her nerves down on the rooftop with the wind gently blowing away. She opened her eyes seeing two birds flying up in the sky with the sun shining brightly. She smiled and wanted to enjoy the perfect sunny day, but she cannot help but think about the vision she had.

It was all frightening to her and as for Damian, he is extra worried and protective of her now that she is confined to the Tower at all times. But she liked the peace and quiet. She stood up on her feet and decided to go down to get something to eat, but on the way back inside, she saw Damian training with the holograms. He was doing kata and some hand to hand combat. It was precise and in perfect form. Also, noticed he was only training without his shirt.

He kicked one hologram while punching the other from his side. He panted heavily and then swiped it legs as it disappeared on the ground. Then he stood up tall and then turned to the console, seeing Raven was leaning on the wall.

“How long have you been standing there?” Damian asked.

“Not that long.” Raven replied with a smile and gave him a towel for him to use. “You have been training for two hours?”

“Yes, I must…. Stay focus on perfecting my fighting style.” Damian said, rubbing his face on his towel and then chucked in a small basket. He grabbed his water bottle and drank it. “What have you been doing?”

“Just mostly meditating.” Raven replied short as she walked past him, not looking at him in the eyes. She walked into the hallway with Damian watching her. He seemed to think that she might be planning on escaping. He won’t let that happen.

“Raven, what are you plans tonight?” Damian asked her as she stopped in her tracks.

“Nothing expect for reading and meditating.” Raven replied, turning to Damian who put his singlet on and walked towards her. “Why?”

“Just curious. How about while the others are on patrol, we should have dinner together?” Damian suggested to her.

“Sounds nice.” Raven smiled at him.

It was nearly nightfall and Raven was in Kori’s room, waiting as she got ready for her night patrol. “Raven I assure you. You will be safe here. You won’t be alone. You have Damian.”

“I know Kori, but all those cult members and Slade, they are dangerous.” Raven pointed out. Kori smiled, knowing she won’t give up and wanted to helped them. “I-I don’t want to lose you and the others.”

“Oh, Raven, you won’t lose us.” Kori hugged her young friend with a warm smile. “And remember Damian is always here if you need him.”

Raven nodded and walked out of her room, standing by her side. She and Damian had said their goodbyes to their family while they stood by the door, the entrance of the Tower. They both watched them going further away from their home until they were out of sight.

“So, what shall we eat for dinner? Perhaps some more soup and some bread?” Damian asked her.

Raven turned to him and thought over some of the other choice she could have. “Hmm, maybe some spicy food this time? The one Tara had cooked?”

“Oh? Okay then we are having curry tonight, then. Wise choice, beloved.” Damian smiled as he leaned down for a kiss. “Hmm… been a while we had some time alone.” He wrapped his arms around her. Raven chuckled and hugged him tightly. She laughed feeling him peppering kisses on her cheek.

“Come on, you get freshen up and I’ll get dinner ready.” Damian smiled before going for another kiss on the lips and he kissed her on the back of her hand. He walked back inside to prepare dinner while Raven gets freshened up.

Damian watched Raven going up to her room and he got started preparing the dinner table with two plates and some cutleries. He also had placed Raven’s favourite flowers in the centre and placed candles in the middle. He smiled, seeing his plans are all coming together. He had put the curry rice on their plates and had made their drinks and set them on the table. He was all ready to wait for her.

In Raven’s room, she was fixing herself until she heard voices calling out to her. She looked around in her room, only to see no one. She sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Raven left her room to eat dinner with Damian. Titus barked when she was going down the stairs. She made a turn seeing candles and flowers being set on the table with their dinner being served.

“Oh, Damian, this looks amazing.” Raven smiled with Damian holding her hand gently in his.

“I wanted to surprise you. After all, it has been a long time we have been alone.” Damian smiled at her and took her at the dining table to eat. “Are you alright?” You look pale.”

“It’s nothing.” Raven replied quickly as she pulled down her sleeve to hid the marking on her wrist from him.

“Are you sure, I can brew in some tea to calm your nerves.” Damian offered, going straight to the kitchen to get her tea. Raven smiled and then sat down to eat the curry. She ate a few bites with Damian giving her tea.

“Thanks.” Raven smiled at him and then glanced at him seeing him looking at his phone. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a warning. Cameras has alerted us there is an intruder.” Damian replied, not taking off his eyes from his phone. “Stay here and I’ll check who is trying to break in.”

“But….”

“Stay here.” Damian sternly demanded her. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Raven stayed silent and stayed put as she was asked. She waited for Damian in the dining room, eating her dinner with Titus sleeping on the floor peacefully. She heard talking from Damian computer room. She wondered what was that all about. It sounded so serious.

She placed her empty plate in the sink as well as her cup. She turned to the table, seeing he hasn’t finished eating his meal. She walked towards the computer room and then heard Nightwing’s voice. “There are too many of them searching for Raven. We are trying to lure them away from the Tower as far as possible. Do not let her go anywhere near Slade.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure she does stay here.” Damian nodded as he got up and ended the call. He was holding a purple and red gem necklace in his hand and had planned to give it to Raven as a gift. He walked out to only see one candle lighting up. He saw one plate was in the sink. Titus whined as he heard him scratching the door. Damian realised she had went out to fight against Slade!

He ran to get changed into his hero attire and hurried on his motorcycle trying to call the entire team. But no one was available. He growled in frustration as he knew Raven was always stubborn. He drove fast to where Raven was. She was in a Tower where the other Titans were.

(~)

Starfire fell down on the ground as she was being thrown by Slade who was holding Conner who was punching him on the stomach, but he didn’t flinch. Slade used his body to hit Donna and Tara with Garfield catching them in his arms as a gorilla. Jaime was flying towards him with Kid Flash running towards him trying to knock him down, but Slade used his arm to hit him as he stumbled on the floor and nearly fell down the Tower.

Nightwing was already beaten up with demons and cult members were crawling to hold them and restrained them from attacking Slade. “Now I am going to ask for one last time, bring Raven to me and then I will let you go.”

“We are not going let you harm her, Slade!” Tara gritted her teeth in anger as he kicked her in the face.

“I am not talking to you. I am talking to lovely lady here.” Slade said, pointing his sword at Starfire’s chin, making her to look up at her.

“You are not going get to Raven.” Starfire glared at him. Slade narrowed his eyes down at her and then walked away from her. He looked down at Nightwing who was holding his arm, that was twisted. He grabbed his broken his arm and pulled him up with him screaming in agony. “NO! Don’t touch him!”

“Oh, he’ll be fine.” Slade assured her as he got his sword back in his sheath. His hand was going straight at his eye until he heard debris were going down. He threw Nightwing to the side as he moved out fo the side seeing Raven flying above them.

“Raven? Get out of here!” Donna cried out to her.

“Foolish girl.” Slade taunted as he ordered his cult to capture her while he handles the Titans until he was kicked by Robin in the face, he had just arrived in time to aid his friends.

Damian looked up at Raven who was fighting off against the cult but got her cloak ripped and was pinned down on the upper level. He gritted his teeth and growled trying to get to her but Slade had pinned him on the ground and punched him on the face repeated in anger, not having bruises and blood all over his face with his eye swollen a bit until he punched back at Slade and got him off of him.

Conner came to his side and got him away from Slade. “We can handle Slade, you help Raven.”

Damian nodded and used his grappling hook to get him higher to get to Raven. He used his smoke pellets and thrown them down on the ground with the cult members coughing and he swung to get Raven up higher on another level.

He turned to her seeing more symbols on her arms, body and on her legs. He growled in annoyance. “I told you not to go after Slade!”

“And I told you I want to help!” Raven argued. “I can’t stand by and watch my friends and you get hurt.”

Damian sighed softly knowing she is way too stubborn to listen. “Alright but stay close to me.” Raven nodded and stood up with his help and then they heard growling from the cult. She used her powers to bring down the debris down with her eyes glowing brightly. Behind her, Damian drew his sword and started swinging it at the cult.

Meanwhile, Slade was fighting off against the Titans. Kid Flash created a tornado to trap him inside from fighting against them with Terra trapping him with boulders. The tornado disappeared with Slade being trapped inside.

Robin had caught all of the cult members with Raven and Jaime. Conner had then tied up in Donna’s lasso. “That’s all of them.” Conner said to the group.

As they had captured the cult, Slade was the only one they all needed to capture. Nightwing had pulled out his tracking device. “He’s still close. We can still get him.”

“Great. I wanna pound him to the ground after what he had done to us, well, minus Donna, Conner and Kid.” Jaime said.

“So, where is he now?” Donna asked with Tara standing by Raven’s side who saw her markings were glowing. She sent her a worried expression while seeing Damian was standing by her side protectively. Slade had managed to escape from them during the fight.

“I suppose we can be in groups. To be prepared to take him down.” Starfire said to the team and Nightwing.

“That could work.” Connor agreed.

“Alright, Jaime, Gar, Tara and Donna. You are with me.” Starfire said, looking at her team.

“And I’ll be with Kid, Connor, Damian and Raven.” Nightwing said as they all moved out to find Slade.

(~)

Slade was waiting on a Tower while sharpening his swords and saw Kid Flash was running towards him. He chuckled dryly as he looked to the side and saw Tara and Beast Boy were on a boulder coming towards to his position.

He jumped down to the lower level while Kid Flash came running faster to knock down until he threw a bottle of liquid as he slipped on the ground and he flipped over and held on a railing above him and flipped over to stand on it. He looked over at Connor who stood far from him.

He flew up to him and punched him in the face until he had held on his hand and slammed him on the metal pole. Damian got his sword out and swung at him while Raven was throwing a few metal pipes at him. Slade luckily moved away and tried to find another way to get to Raven.

Damian swung his swung his sword in his hands. He desperately want to protect Raven and didn’t want his dream to become a reality. He fought against Slade with Connor who flew back up again while Kid ran from the sides to punch or knock him over. Kid rolled and then kicked him on the face with Connor catching him and flew up, throwing him up in the air with Nightwing pulling an arm back and punched him in the stomach.

Down below, Raven handled the cult members, trapping them in her own cage while Damian ran towards Slade with his sword nearly slicing his head off. He caught the blade in his bloody hands and head-butted him. Damian groaned painfully and Slade punched him repeatedly on the stomach, pinning him on the wall and dug his two onto his shoulders.

He cried out in pain while hearing Raven calling out to him. “Looks like your lovely woman is next.”

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Damian snarled at him.

Slade didn’t listen and still prepared himself to get to Raven while Connor flew to her side with Kid Flash and then Donna came in just in time with Tara as she threw in rocks with her. Slade dodged all of the rocks that were being thrown at him, catching Jaime in his hand, and slammed him onto the ground while punching Garfield in his bear form, knocking him unconscious. Starfire came shooting her bolts at him while he deflected the bolts and one bounced on his blade and came flying back at Starfire, injuring her arm and fell down in Nightwing’s arms.

Damian gritted his teeth seeing Slade was getting closer to Raven and all of his teammates were all injured and cannot fight. “Nightwing! Get these bloody knives out of my shoulders!”

Raven glared at Slade and raised her arms up, putting up a shield around her but Slade managed to shatter it. She gasped softly when he grabbed on to her cloak, ripping it from her. Revealing symbols appeared on her arms and body, glowing brightly. “Your father awaits your return, Raven.”

“NO!” Raven tried to fight back as he grabbed her arm while seeing a symbol appearing on her forehead. She swatted his arm away, shooting her orbs at him while he hid behind the pillar away from her.

She quickly covered herself from letting anyone see her glowing markings. She saw Slade was running towards her and had swung his sword at her. She moved away from him and stumbled near the edge of the floor. Nearly falling down.

Nightwing successfully got the knives out of Damian. He gritted in pain while seeing blood dripping down on the floor. His older brother charged at Slade, saving Raven from Slade but he kicked him on the face and grabbed his arm, throwing him into Damian.

He turned to Raven and slapped her across the face seeing more symbols on her back. She gritted her teeth and tried using her powers, but he held on to her wrist tightly as her eyes widened, seeing her father had given him powers to drain her dry. She screamed in agony while Starfire, Tara and Donna trying to reach her until Jaime and Garfield heard bombs ticking all over the pillars.

“Guys! No!” Gar shouted out to the girls as he transformed into a gorilla and grabbed Tara’s hand, taking her up on the upper floor with Damian running to get Raven to safety. He grabbed his grappling hook, but he was stopped by Slade once more.

He had enough with him and punched him hard on the face, knocking his teeth out. He snarled at him and punched him back, kneed him on the stomach. “You won’t be able to save her, Damian. Such a pity.” Slade chuckled as he looked back at Raven who was weakened and slowly got up with debris around her, hearing cracks coming from the floor.

“Since this place is crumbling to bits, there is no reason for me to stay here.” Slade smirked evilly as he walked away from Damian as he started running towards her. “Oh, and happy birthday, Damian.”

Raven fell down from the crumbling floor, but her hand was tied up to Damian’s grappling hook while he held onto it as more debris fell down on them. She gasped softly while seeing more cult members attacking her family and one was about to strike him on the back. “Damian!”

She lifted her arm and blasted the cult, burning its face while Damian was losing his grip and looked to the side seeing another was throwing a knife at the rope, cutting it with a weakened Raven, falling down to her death. “NO! Rachel!” He dove right in to save her as she fell down.

That was the last time she had seen was Damian in his civilian clothes, the last hero of Jump City she has seen was Robin, falling in to saving her determinedly while seeing the rest of her family were all getting out of the debris while trying to save her.

Her tears were forming in the corner of her eyes with her long black hair flowing in her sight. Damian was shouting out to her while grabbing another grappling hook. The rope was coming out, reaching out to her as she was reaching out to him while falling down the Tower, hearing her family calling out to them.

Everything felt like it slowing time around her. She looked at the rope as it caught up to her and was wrapped around her waist. Her tears were falling out of her eyes. She gritted her teeth, shaking in fear as she closed her eyes.

Damian felt Jaime’s hand holding onto him and held on the grappling hook and saw his love was caught but heard a loud thud that echoed from inside the tower. Raven’s head hit the ground before she could be pulled back up.

Both boys gasped in horror while Damian hooked the rope onto the metal bar above him and let go of Jaime’s hand. He landed next to Raven who was still attached to the rope. He breathed in and out slowly but unsteady. He took off his mask with his eyes looking over her worriedly. He held her in his arms, seeing she was not moving. “Rachel?”

He sat back on the ground with her in his arms securely, cradling her in his arms. He tried to find a pulse and his hand was shaking. “Rachel, please. Wake up. Rach—Rachel?” Damian called out to her, shaking her body a little, after seeing blood coming out of her mouth. “No…No!” Damian cried out while holding her closely to him.

The Titans all gathered around seeing Damian holding Raven in his arms, crying out her name over and over. “Please don’t leave me.” He laid his head on her neck while holding her closely with Starfire being comforted by Nightwing.

Garfield and Tara hugged each other tightly with tears rolling down. Jaime looked away from the sight of Raven’s body while Donna felt Connor’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. They all heard the cries from Damian with the moon was shining on them from the broken ceiling of the tower.

2 years Later

After the death of Raven, Damian had given into the darkness. He had lost the woman he had loved with all of his heart. He laid himself down on his bed in his dark room. He covered his face with his arm, not wanting to open them.

Whenever he opens them, he only see Raven in his line of sight. He can see everything, her face, her smile. He can still hear her laughter ringing in his ears. He gritted his teeth in anger, wanting to block the sound of her voice.

“Uh, Damian?” Garfield knocked on the door.

“Get the hell away from my room, Logan. I do not want to deal with you right now.” Damian spatted, putting a pillow on his head.

“Look, I know how exactly you feel. In that other timelines, I felt as helpless and sad when Tara had died, but it takes greater strength to get up on your feet. I am sure R-she wanted you to do.” Garfield said, leaning his head on the door. “Look, man. You haven’t been to her funeral 6 months ago.”

He didn’t hear him answer or him talking. So he opened the door only to smell the scent of alcohol in his room. Seeing the bottles were only half empty. “When was the last time you cleaned up, dude?” Gar groaned in disgust.

“Just get out of here.” Damian said in annoyance.

“No.”

“I SAID GET OUT, LOGAN!” Damian finally snapped and grabbed his sword from the floor and pointed it at his neck. He saw Garfield didn’t flinch from his spot and his brown eyes looked into his emerald eyes, seeing as if he was trying to calm him down. To calm his anger.

“Raven… Rachel doesn’t want to see you suffering over her death badly. She wanted you to be happy, live your life to the fullest.” Garfield said sincerely. “She loves you so deeply and cares for you. You two were so close and she had made you be a better person, yet, you are here moping. She wanted you to be on your feet and become someone else. Someone better than Robin who couldn’t save the love of his life. You can be more like your father. You can be able to move past this and save more lives from suffering.”

Damian stood quiet from listening to his speech and lowered his sword down. Sitting back down on his bed. “You… really think I can move on…without her?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know everyone does. She does too.” Garfield replied, putting a hand on his shoulder, giving something out to him. “I found this in her room. I think she wanted you to read it.”

He left him in his room to read it as he opened the sliding doors to his balcony where the moon shone brightly. He opened up the letter and saw Rachel’s hand writing, as he remembered clearly, it was neat. And clear for him to read.

“Dear Damian,

By the time you are reading this, that means I have already passed. And I have written this just before you shouted out when you were having a nightmare. I had comforted you in a way and I am glad.

I know you’ll ended up feeling like this. Helpless, hopeless, defeated, and lonely. Do not forget that you have a loving family and friends who are still by your side. And you be there for them, Damian. You can get past this by moving on and live your life to the fullest. I believe in you and I love you.

I love you. I love you just as you are. You are Robin, the member of the Titans. You can become more than just Robin. You can become their light to make the world a better place. You are Jump City’s protector in the dark. I know you aren’t ready, but I do believe that you are ready. Remember, justice not vengeance, my beloved.

Love forever,

Rachel R.”

Damian held onto the letter and gritted his teeth with his tears staining the paper in his hands. He wiped his eyes with his hand and sobbed, finally letting all out, mourning his lost love’s death. Once he had calmed down, he looked at the letter once more and then held it in his hand, now having a new found purpose. He wanted her death not to be in vain. He looked at his closet and grabbed a small chest and had started to get changed.

In Jump City, the citizens were attacked by Black Mask and his goons, Putting everyone’s life in danger with the Titans coming in and saved the citizens while Nightwing kicked one goon on the head and flipped one over his shoulder. Garfield flew up in the sky dropping one with Terra slamming her hands together trapping two goons her boyfriend had dropped mid-air.

Superboy and Wonder Girl punched down the ground, crushing their vehicles while Donna used her lasso to throw the truck to crush down the speeding cars that were going straight at the young girls who were screaming and shouting.

“NO!” Starfire cried out until she saw a shadow appeared and grabbed the two young girls. She looked around the area and saw a grappling hook line coming from the building. She gasped seeing Batman was in Jump City helping them to save the citizens. He threw in his Batarang at the goons while Kid Flash managed to run towards them and tied them up with Donna’s rope. He and the Titans knocked down the last goons with Black Mask being arrested at last.

The Titans looked at the new Batman. He had the same mask with a navy-blue cape and yellow utility belt and had small jewel beads attached to it. His body suit was mixed with black and red accents.

“Damian?” Nightwing questioned with him looking at him and then left while grabbing his grappling hook and swing up to the building. The Titans all followed him to talk to him in private while the police took care of the villains down below.

“Damian? Is that you?” Jon asked rubbing his neck.

The new Batman took his mask off and revealed himself to his family. Starfire smiled sadly but proudly to see he is inheriting his father’s legacy. For Raven’s sake. This was good progress in moving. “I am proud Damian. I am sure Raven is too.”

“Yes, I do hope so.” Damian smiled fondly while looking down at the mask in his hands.

“And I love the new look to the suit, Muscle Man.” Terra smiled while Gar chuckled, agreeing with her. The Titans all rejoice with Damian, as Batman formerly as Robin has risen and vowed to make the world a better place to live while making Raven’s wishes coming true.

Damian finally set foot in the cemetery where Raven’s grave was. He bent down and put a bouquet of blue roses and white irises. He smiled and patted the engraved stone gently. “Rest well, my beloved.” He heard sirens blaring and looked up to see the Bat signal. He smiled seeing duties were calling and had said his goodbyes to Raven before joining his family in an another night of crime fighting.

[orsuliya]

Since you do such detailed asks and give a well thought out answers, I want to know your opinion on the Ma brothers. Zilong, Zilu and Zitan. What do you think about them?

Ah, our three intrepid Ma princes... Wait a minute, why three? It's not like we're in a fairytale and while Zitan is certainly a fool, he's not nearly good-hearted enough to play the role of Ivan the Fool.

But seriously, it seems mightily suspicious of Daddy Emperor to sire three sons in quick succession and then, as far as we know, never ever procreate again. He's an Emperor and obviously fertile, so how come the imperial nursery remains so glaringly empty? Could it be that he has no concubines at all except for his beloved Xie Guifei?

Or... has the Empress been aborting babies left and right, and poisoning her way through swathes of women to boot? Not impossible, knowing her temperament, but it doesn't really make sense within the dynamic presented in the drama. Drama!Emperor hates, hates, hates the Wangs and especially his wife, so it's hard to believe he wouldn't have used this juicy tidbit to weaken their influence. In the book Wanru is allowed to run roughshod over Potato's concubines and feed them contraceptives willy-nilly, but that's because Potato doesn't really care. The Emperor, as we see him in the drama, would have found reason enough to care upon being given such an obvious opening to start a smear campaign against his favourite enemy. Stymying the imperial bloodline?! Why, I think it might be a crime and easily provable one at that!

This leaves the other option - perhaps there aren't any concubines in the palace or, if there are, they're not being, pardon my French, bred. It's not that multiple imperial concubines of lower rank aren't a thing in this universe - Potato gets at least two and possibly more after sitting on the throne for a relatively short time. It's a pity we don't know what's the policy on entering the palace. Is there a multi-stage selection process? There is certainly no indication of that! Xie Guifei might have been an attempt to balance out a Wang Empress, Seagull was Zitan's impromptu choice, Miss Screecher was meant to be chosen by Potato outside of any organized selection and the same could be true for Potato's other concubines. Our only outlier might be Zilu's Mom and even then it's rather doubtful she was ever processed properly as it would have required a lot of effort and luck to conceal an already existing pregnancy. No, Zilu's Mom was most probably a gift of 'peace' from one brother to another.

My guess as to what Daddy Emperor is thinking? If Zitan has been his preferred heir from the start and he very well might have been since it never had anything to do with Zitan's actual qualities, then it's possible that he simply didn't protest - or did so in a purely symbolic manner - when the Wangs started limiting his reproductive chances. Why breed competition? We already know he has no use for any sons lacking powerful backing of their maternal clans, see: his treatment of Zilu. And any son with such backing would be a direct threat to his favourite, not to mention a potential upset to the carefully maitained Wang-Ma-Xie balance.

...or it could be that Daddy Emperor really loved Xie Guifei and wanted no other. Seeing as he's strongly implied to spend his nights in her chambers twenty years after their only and last kid was born, this would make a staggering amount of sense. The same principle applies - he'd still not protest Wang tyranny over the inner courts, only he'd do it for Xie Guifei and not for Zitan. It does seem to fit with Daddy Emperor's general mindset. Let the others do open battle and exert all that effort, he'll just sit there, look sage and reap the benefits!

After this rather senseless and overly long prelude, let's finally get to answering your question. Mind you, those are not going to be organized, thoughtful opinions, just my subjective impressions on each and every Ma Prince.

His Imperial Spudness Ma Zilong

The not-so-little Potato that could not, but still tried! Let's start with the elephant in the room, namely his rapist tendencies or the lack thereof. See, I'm convinced that raping Awu wasn't actually in the cards, at least as far as Potato was concerned. Compromising her, sure, just lure her into an emptied palace and cry wolf. Outright raping her, no, if only because Potato is way, way too weak and soft to execute a plan this ruthless in its entirety. Besides, harming Awu to this extent would be risky as all hell and sure to provoke authentic wrath in both Daddy Emperor and Daddy Wang. The Empress is not stupid enough to give her husband the perfect excuse to do away with her son nor to alienate her main supporter in the same move. Even if she was able to force a marriage in the first place, Potato would be pretty much done for politically unless both Daddies suddenly dropped dead. The most she would be able to get would be a grandson in a privileged position, so she'd be back to square one, only with one more female to share power with. No, what Potato did and what Wanru suffered was mostly courtesy of Zilu's suspicious drugs. Not to say Potato isn't a rapist all the same, but I'd argue for diminished capacity.

As for Potato himself in his shining spuddy glory, I truly pity the man. From time to time we see glimpses of the ruler he could have become and whom he still tries to be, and it becomes clear that there was something there worth cultivating. The problem is that nobody could be bothered to even try. Daddy Emperor certainly didn't, leaving Potato pretty much to his own devices and believe me, it had nothing to do with his talents or the lack thereof. Do you remember that lovely family scene at the beginning of episode 1.? You know, the one where Awu, Zilu and Zitan lure Zilong into a trap and then leave him there to lie amidst icy rocks in the middle of winter? He could have easily hit his head and died right then and there. Or get pneumonia and die a little bit later. Does the Emperor care? No, not at all! Baby!Awu isn't that good of a liar, but even if she was, perhaps it would behoove him to actually investigate. Not from any kind of fatherly feeling, let's not expect miracles, but perhaps from political expediency? Yeah, no. And I doubt that was the only incident of this kind. Potato must have known even this early on that his father doesn't care for him, not even like an Emperor should for his eldest male scion. Moreover, there is no way Mommy Dearest wouldn't harp on about the Emperor's negligence in private, further affirming this awful truth in Potato's mind.

Mommy Dearest might care, but her care is no less toxic than Daddy Emperor's open negligence. Potato is her key to power, her only way to win the game of thrones and make all her sacrifices worthwhile... and this is exactly how she treats him. Oh, she loves him well enough as her son, clings to him in his role as Crown Prince and then Emperor, but she doesn't actually like him as a person. And oh boy, does it show! I get it, he's not this perfect shining prince that would justify her long years of suffering, but then I have this feeling she gave up on him the moment he showed himself to be perfectly average. Sure, she offers him (toxic) love and (conditional) support like nobody's business, but there's always this nasty undertone in their relationship. Mommy knows best, don't even try to think on your own, listen to me and only me. It's no wonder that Potato thinks he's perfectly useless and doesn't bother to try and better himself, if he knows that even his own mother sees him as a perfect nincompoop. Uncle Wang's open derision isn't helpful either!

And yet Potato is, deep down, a decent enough man. Better than the average Ma, I'd say. I mean, he has some scruples! They might be really, really tiny, but they're there, even as he's being subjected to a barrage of mental attacks from both his mother and his wife. Why, given proper support and a competent cabinet, he'd make a somewhat ineffective, but decent enough ruler, his handling of the flood crisis shows us this much. Potato's best quality is that he really tries. Oh, he fails, but he's no Zitan, content to sit in his room and mope while the country goes to hell. When it's important, he can make actual decisions! Which he may then go back on (or not), but it still counts. Also, he's not petty. Like, at all. He'd like nothing better than for everybody to get along and have lots and lots of plump babies. Even his decision to do away with Xiao Qi is not motivated by jealousy, no matter how hard Wanru and Mommy Dearest keep pressing on that particular button.

Is he childish? Yes. But then, he's never been given any real responsibility and for years and years languished under the care of a helicopter parent who never forced him to man up nor face actual reality, hence his disillusionment with Wanru, once she stops being this perfect smiling automaton. Is he selfish? Oh yes and it shows nowhere better than in his last will. But even so, such selfishness is pretty much par for the course when it comes to the Mas and at least Potato didn't wreck a country for the sake of personal spite, which puts him way ahead of his father, uncle Jianning and bro Zitan. And perhaps even cousin Zilu, who cared less for the country than for Huanmi.

At the end of the day, our humble root vegetable is a tragic figure. I can't help but pity him every time we see him bloom under somebody's attention. Give that man some respect and he'll pay you back with the same, weird comments about killing you nothwithstanding. And he did give us Miracle Baby, Our Lord and Saviour!

Our beloved Groomzilla, Ma Zilu

Daddy Emperor must have been stupid, high, blind or all of those in order to let Zilu and his beautiful brain slip through his fingers. He was right there, that defenseless, motherless boy and ripe for the taking too! If after years and years of being neglected and treated as an afterthought, after suffering an obvious slight of losing his love on Daddy Wang's say-so, after being allowed to supposedly run wild with no attempt at parental intervention... If after all this Zilu still craved his father's approval in whatever form he could get it, craved it so much that he allowed himself to be led into an obvious trap, then what kind of loyalty might he have offered, had somebody bothered to nurture him properly?

And it's not like his talents were easy to sweep under the rug. It's not until after he's an adult that Zilu takes up the pretense of being a never-do-well; during his adolescence he was still giving it his all, hoping in vain that his father might notice and offer him some sweet, sweet parental validation. Alas. The lack of powerful backing from his maternal family is an obstacle, but not if one actively tries to fight against consort kin clans and their influence. Or is it only the Wangs who are the enemy? Must be so, otherwise why the hell would one not see Zilu's relative independence as his greatest asset? You don't even have to make him Crown Prince to use him; just instill some sense of pride and validation, feed his need for attention and put him behind Zitan's throne. Okay, maybe don't do that last thing, deadly brotherly competition being a whole thing in palace environments, but still, use him! But no, Huanmi remained the only person to actually see and appreciate Zilu for what he was. Is it any wonder he was so absolutely loyal to her that even when it looked like she had attacked him with lethal intent, he still cared about her safety most of all?

And is it any wonder that he expedited his considerable will and brainpower solely for her benefit? I was absolutely floored when I realized that becoming an Emperor wasn't actually his ultimate goal - marrying Huanmi in the biggest, reddest wedding possible was! Even if he needed to drag the more august guests in at swordpoint. Not to say he didn't want to take the throne for his own sake; he absolutely did, but only as far as it served as a big fat fuck you to every person who kept dismissing him out of hand, so basically every person other than Huanmi. Taking the crown was a power fantasy, an idee-fixe of sorts, but for all that keeping a throne in one's basement can be seen as somewhat peculiar, there are very few - if any - signs of actual delusion in Zilu's actions. The throne is not a goal in itself, merely a way to achieve his primary goal, which is to marry the woman he loves, take revenge for Huanmi's sake as much as his own and build a life worthy of her. She's his Empress and by gods, she's going to be the real deal soon enough, no more cosplaying in private villas, however nice it might be!

Ma Zitan, the one and only Master of Mope

With every Ma Prince I become more and more convinced that there was something seriously wrong with Daddy Emperor's brain. Neglecting Potato makes some sense within the greater political picture, letting Zilu lie fallow is the height of foolishness, yet it's more a matter of criminal inaction than actively doing something wrong, but Zitan? Oh, there is no excuse for the way Daddy Emperor chose to deal with Zitan. If the Third Prince was truly his intended heir from the start and there is little reason to believe otherwise - if Wangs are to go then Potato is done for, Zilu was never even considered and Zitan remains the favourite long after showing his complete uselessness - why not try to prepare him for his future role? True, doing so openly might provoke the Wangs, but it's not like there aren't any ways to present such ruler lessons as something else, even a punishment. But no, let's just hope he turns out okay all by himself!

Now, logically reasoning, if Zitan was Daddy Emperor’s favourite and the prince he originally wanted as his heir, then Zitan should be given all possible help, right? So why wasn’t he taught any actual skills, whether in governance or in military matters? The thing is… they might have tried. In episode 61, when Zitan asks his faithful pair of retainers if he would be able to best Xiao Qi, their first answer is not that he’s the Emperor so it’s a given. Well, that too, but the first, immediate response? You studied the art of war. Which, okay, might be a reasonable guess when it comes to any prince, but those retainers are rather young and only recently-promoted. Before their soujourn at the Imperial Mausoleum they probably served somewhere within the wider imperial household, but not close enough to any great personage to be knowledgeable about what the princes might or might not have studied. Also, that answer, should Zitan’s lessons be limited to his early childhood, would make them look like idiots or bootlickers of the worst sort. But let’s say that Zitan actually studied the art of war and did so longer than his brothers. Or, alternatively, with more famous masters. That would naturally be a subject of some talk, if only within the imperial household itself. If so, then the female retainer, who seems rather astute in general, gave the best answer she could give.

Okay, so maybe somebody actually tried to help Zitan along. It still failed. Zitan at twenty or so is singularily useless and strangely unambitious, and no, calligraphy doesn't count as useful, not if one is an imperial prince and Emperor-to-be!

It's not Zitan's uselessness or even his refusal to feel any kind of reponsibility for his own people (as shown in the Huizhou arc) I have the most issue with. Although the latter is simply disgusting. And... really, really short-sighted. If Huizhou falls, as it surely must, Jianning and Co. get a clear way to the capital, leaving Xiao Qi to play deadly catch-up. Which means that Zitan's family is pretty much done for. Now, he might not care about Potato and Zilu, but surely he should feel something towards his father? Some filial piety, if not actual love? But no, screw the people of Huizhou and screw Daddy Emperor. Still, does he think that Jianning wouldn't pursue him to the ends of the earth in order to eradicate a potential claimant?

No, what really angers me is the way Zitan treats the women he claims to hold dear. And I'm not even speaking of Awu, although it's rather obvious that he cares little for her internality and rather more than is healthy for his idealized image of her. Xie Guifei dies for him, which is not his fault in the least... or is it? See, I'm pretty sure that Zitan's insistence on marrying Awu despite his mother's reservations was what provoked the Wangs to take certain... steps. Provoking a power struggle is all fine and good, if you're at least somewhat prepared for the consequences. Zitan is no fifteen year old well-bred young lady, he's an imperial prince right in the middle of a delicate balance of power, how the hell does he not know or care about possible ramifications? Naivety is theoretically not a crime, but that surely is criminal naivety. Which begs the question - how hard was that boy coddled by his mother? My guess is a lot. But Xie Guifei is but a trifle compared to the elephant in the room.

Xie Wanru. Xie Wanru, who supported Zitan as much as she could while being in a precarious situation herself. And whom he had no problems with asking for further support, going as far as to aim for the throne, disregarding her own and her children's potential interests. Xie Wanru, who didn't make the first move, even knowing Zitan to be a potential threat to her and hers. Xie Wanru, whose baby got a full portion of avuncular love in form of actual torture and was lucky to get away with his life. Xie Wanru, his sister, whose ghost must have screeched with fury upon hearing Zitan laud himself as this paragon of brotherly feelings in comparison to the well-intentioned Turnip.

Oh, and he just sat there like an offended child while the country kept sliding into chaos, simply because some evil old men didn't let him kill Cheng's entire army with his sheer incompetence. Those dastardly old bastards! Let them scramble around and let the people in the provinces keep dying; they all deserve this for not recognizing Zitan's awesomeness! I'm not saying he should have fixed everything. I'm saying he should have done the bare minimum. He killed a brother for that throne, now he should actually do something with it. Other than purposefully provoking the only guy who actually restored peace and stability simply because the man happens to be married to Zitan's first love.

I'm sorry, I cannot with Zitan. There's a lot more to be said about that twerp, much of which has already been said, but at this point refraining from plowing on it's a matter of mental hygiene.

[ambersock]

On the Edge of Forever

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Lucifer (Cassifer)

Summary: Sam has a plan to deal with the Darkness. Dean is definitely not going to like it.

Word Count: 4095

Warnings: Angst, Minor Sam Whump, Swearing, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues

A/N: Takes place in Season 11, after 11.10 The Devil in the Details. More notes at the end.

Now: Dean

Baby’s tires squeal in protest as Dean uses up a month of tread taking yet another turn too fast, her back-end fishtailing with only intermittent traction keeping her from spinning out. He’ll apologize to her later. Dean slams the accelerator down as he exits the curve and hits 90 on a straight section of the backwoods road on the outskirts of a town probably called Where The Fuck Are We We’re Lost. He starts to recognize landmarks from the last time he was here almost three years ago; he’s close. Not close enough.

He hurtles towards his destination, praying to who the hell knows what (because, really, there’s nothing out there that gives a shit, is there?), that he makes it in time to stop his idiot brother from doing an idiotic thing. Because he idiotically let his brother go to talk to fucking Lucifer, and of course Lucifer got inside his head. And here he is again, wracking his brain to figure out what the hell he can possibly say to convince Sam to abandon his insane plan.

Five days ago: Sam

Ever since the train wreck that was supposed to be a “safe” visit to the Cage to ask for Lucifer’s help against the Darkness, Sam has been replaying the Lucifer-guided tour of his worst fuck ups over and over on an endless loop, hoping that repetition and whiskey will numb him just a little more each time. For the hundredth time Sam curses his hubris, thinking he would even register on God’s radar, let alone that He would answer his prayers and send him visions. For the hundredth time he curses himself for being so naïve that he never suspected that the visions were just a lure from Lucifer to reel him in, break him down, and use him as a ride out of the Cage. And he hates himself for how close he had come to caving in. More than once.

On his third shot of whiskey and his umpteenth rerun through his trail of regrets, it hits Sam: within the chain of events of disaster begetting calamity begetting catastrophe, there is one moment in time where it could have easily all fallen apart. One small delay, one broken link, would cause a cascade failure and drastically alter everything that came after. He can’t help fantasizing, over and over, about all of the different little things could have happened that would have changed the entire outcome. If only.

On his fourth shot of whiskey, Sam remembers the sigil that allowed Henry Winchester to travel through time, and he huffs out a laugh.

On his fifth shot of whiskey, Sam staggers to the archive room and starts pulling books.

******

Sam continues to stare at the passages describing the Enochian time travel spell. The task he’s set himself is a flame that has both sustained him and consumed him for days on end. There’s a tree’s worth of paper covered in notes scattered across every horizontal surface, held down by mostly empty coffee mugs distributed randomly around the cramped space. His eyes are dry and red, an eyestrain headache thrums in the back of his skull, and his back is aching from being hunched over musty tomes for hours at a time attempting to deconstruct and reverse engineer the spell, to adapt it to his specific purpose. He’s not sure when he slept last, and Dean has started to give him those sideways I-know-something’s-eating-you looks which means he’s got limited time before Dean drags him out of the bunker “for his own good”. Sam forces himself to clear his mind of everything except the patterns of Enochian writing in front of him. He’s close, he thinks he’s found the right figures, he just needs to understand how to combine them with the original blood sigil. As Dean would say, he’s on the one-yard line and it’s time to push through it.

Hours later something finally clicks like a circuit closing in his brain, and suddenly the pattern of the lesser symbols within the larger whole makes sense to Sam. The solution is simple and elegant, and it’s so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. He adds the figures to a drawing of the original blood sigil and he knows, just knows, that this is going to work. He allows himself to luxuriate in the endorphin rush that accompanies success, the feeling that he’s about to score a win. For the first time since he threw himself into the Cage, he feels like he’s finally doing something right.

The only problem now is finding the right way to tell Dean. He’s going to need some time and distance, a head-start to get out in front of Dean’s inevitable knee-jerk reaction, because Dean is definitely not going to like this. Even if it was his idea.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

It was a stroke of luck, really, that Lucifer landed Castiel as a vessel instead of Sam as he had originally intended. Dean might have caught on to Lucifer-wearing-Sam, but it was just too easy to pass himself off as the besotted pet angel when Dean had caught him tearing through the records. A contrite little “I’m sorry Dean” coupled with a soulful look and Dean was sold. It is surprisingly so much easier to masquerade as someone else topside than it ever was in the Cage. He never could fully convince Sam that it was Dean who was carving out his organs.

Fun aside, there is now a possible monkey wrench in Lucifer’s carefully laid and, so far successful, bid for freedom. He stares at the disarray of notes decorated with Enochian symbols strewn all over the small bunker storage room by his erstwhile vessel, and can’t dismiss the growing possibility that everything is about to unravel.

“Oh Sammy-boy, what are you up to?”

His vessel has been mucking around with a time-travel sigil, and it seems like he’s pretty far along. Logically, Sam would be looking to prevent the release of the Darkness, which also certainly means undoing the events leading to the damage to the Cage that allowed Lucifer to escape. There are two lessons he files away for later: one, never speak Enochian in front of a chew toy; two, sending Sam Winchester on a guilt trip tends only results in a manic attempt on his part to fix things, which is exactly how Lucifer ended up back in the Cage the second time. He takes a moment to appreciate the irony of how tormenting Sam with his past regrets might now colossally backfire on him. He questions whether it was really worth it just to see Sam squirm like that once again, but then he can’t keep a smile of contentment from spreading across his face.

Yes, yes it was. Definitely worth it.

So now to the problem at hand: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel has other important, and definitely more amusing, things he needs to attend to, such as feeding Crowley his own intestines. But this potential threat to his plans is not something he can abide. He mulls over the merits of just disintegrating Sam—not very satisfying, but efficient—when he feels a tickle from a small, dark corner of his consciousness. He sighs in irritation.

“What do you want, Castiel?”

I believe I can help.

“Yeah, not really buying that.”

Give me five minutes, and I promise that Sam will no longer be of concern.

Lucifer is loath to cede control, but at the same time his curiosity is piqued. He can always return to Plan Disintegrate later. Or maybe he’ll think of something more entertaining while he’s waiting.

“Five minutes.”

Castiel takes out his phone and picks Dean out of his contacts. As Dean picks up, Castiel reaches for the page holding the altered blood sigil.

“Dean… I’m afraid your brother is planning to do something very foolish…”

Earlier: Dean

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to fix this. Fix the Darkness. I figured out a way to take Abaddon off the board in the past. No Abaddon, no Mark of Cain. No Mark, the Darkness stays locked up. Kevin lives. Charlie lives. It’s a no-brainer.”

Dean is standing in the room where Sam had been doing his clandestine research, now devoid of the notes that Castiel had described. After 17 frantic, unanswered calls to Sam, who had gone missing all night, Sam has finally called back and Dean knows that something’s seriously off. He sounds eerily upbeat, which immediately sets off Dean’s alarm bells given how shaken and preoccupied he had been after coming back from the near-disastrous visit to the virtual Cage. Whatever Sam’s planning, Dean is pretty sure he’s not going to like it, and Sam’s not exactly forthcoming with details. Either Dean needs to get Sam to spill, or he at least needs to get a trace on his phone and figure out where he is.

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to screw with time? Mothra Effect, or whatever? And if you go back and meet yourself, won’t the universe, like, explode or something?”

“Butterfly Effect. And I’m not going back, I’m sending something back. Seriously, Dean, do you really think I can possibly screw up the time line any worse than The End of Everything?”

Dean doesn’t have a good response to that, so he switches the topic to keep Sam talking. “So how, exactly, are you gonna take Abaddon out without the Mark and the First Blade? You planning to send her one of your documentary podcasts and bore her to death?”

There’s a huff of exasperation on the other end and Dean swears he can hear Sam roll his eyes. “Hilarious. Look, I’ve found another way.”

“Then tell me where you are and I’ll come help.”

Silence.

Then, “Don’t worry Dean, I’ve got this. It’s an easy spell. You should keep researching the Darkness in case this doesn’t work.”

Sam being evasive confirms that Dean has good reason to be suspicious about this plan, but the trace is still going and Dean plays for more time.

“Don’t worry? Might as well tell me not to breathe. Let me guess: you’re sending a bomb back to blow Abaddon to fucking bits so we can’t sew her head back on.”

“…Huh. Interesting idea, but there’s too much risk that I’d end up blowing up one of us. Anyway, it’s a blood spell. Whatever goes back has to be infused with DNA so that it can latch onto the same DNA. I’m just sending some cloth back. Like I said, it’s simple.”

Dean gives in to his growing irritation at Sam’s caginess and decides to go for the direct assault.

“Sam. What aren’t you telling me?” Dean already has his suspicions of what Sam isn’t telling him; there’s only one way he can think of that takes Abaddon out of play and saves Kevin. He’s hoping he’s wrong. He’s also dying to know how time travelling cloth comes into this.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Sam.”

“Look, just promise you’ll hear me out, okay?”

“SAM.”

Dean can hear Sam take a breath, like he’s getting ready to plunge into deep water. “…I’m going to make sure I finish the third Trial.”

There it is. Damn it.

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE.”

Click.

Sam disconnects before the trace finishes, but Dean doesn’t need the trace to know where to find him. He hauls ass to the garage where the Impala is waiting.

Now: Dean

Dean stands on the brake and Baby skids to a halt next to the car Sam had appropriated, sitting in front of the old, decrepit church. It’s exactly as he remembered it last, like it’s been frozen in time waiting for their return. Overgrown bushes still cling to the rotting siding, and stained glass still litters the ground from the blown-out side window. The only thing missing is the shower of angelic fireballs cascading toward the earth with Sam dying by his side, an image that perversely reminds him of watching fireworks in a field with next to his little brother.

The last time they were here, Sam was half out of his mind with fever and remorse, and Dean’s desperate I’m-Your-Big-Brother-You-Have-To-Do-What-I-Say tone had actually, thankfully, gotten through to him and Sam had backed down. He can’t believe that he has to talk Sam down from the same fucking ledge again, only it’s worse this time because Sam is laser focused on his mission to fix the problem. This time, emotional pleas and yelling and demanding aren’t going to work. This time, so help him, the only way Dean will be able to talk Sam out of this will be to throw logic at him.

Dean launches himself out of the Impala and bursts through the doors of the church to see Sam sitting, chin in hand, in the chair that once held a nearly human King of Hell. A crimson stain is spreading on a strip of cloth that he’s holding to his arm, and there is a bowl of already-mixed spell ingredients on the floor in front of him. Sam has clearly been waiting for Dean.

“Well, that was quick.”

Dean, bent over huffing, heart still pounding from breakneck drive here, is seriously tempted to punch Sam.

Before Dean can take a deep enough breath to start in on forcefully explaining to Sam how idiotic this is, Sam launches into his sales pitch. “Look Dean, I know what you’re going to say, but just listen. I’m not throwing my life away on some impulsive, reckless act. I need you to understand that, that’s why I waited for you. I’ve had days to think this through. This endless cycle of crossing lines we’ve got no business crossing, of throwing away the world to save each other, this is where it all started, and I can stop it before it starts.”

“Damn it Sam, are you even capable of coming up with a plan where you don’t die? Closing up Hell wasn’t worth your life then, and it’s not worth it now—”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, my insides were going to be deep fried whether or not I finished it. You were right when you said you shouldn’t have pulled me back. Look at everything that came after—Kevin, you becoming a demon, and—and the things that I had to do to get you back, to remove the Mark… getting Charlie killed… and how many people died when the Darkness infected that town? I mean, how can you tell me that saving all of them isn’t worth it?”

Dean feels a knot growing in his stomach because he knows damned well that it wasn’t Lucifer who got into Sam’s head. It was the Mark that told Sam that he should have been on the pyre instead of Charlie. It was the Mark that told Sam he should have died finishing the Trials. It was the Mark that told Sam that he was evil. It had said all of this to Sam for his crime of saving Dean from an eternity of suffering.

But it was Dean who never apologized, never tried to set things right.

They have both said and done abhorrent things to each other while under the control of some entity or force, and there has always been an unspoken understanding between them that they don’t take it personally. Mostly. Sometimes. Okay, Dean usually gets mad, leaving Sam to trail after him afterwards apologizing profusely. But Sam always brushes these incidents aside and moves on without a word. Hell, the first thing Sam had done after the hammer episode was to go out and get Dean a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and three different pies.

But this… this has really gotten to Sam. He didn’t just dismiss it like he did when they were under the influence of the Siren. He buried it instead and let it set down roots and infest every corner of his brain. And when Sam gets like this—like after he set Lucifer free, like after he found out what he had done while he was soulless—he just can’t let it go until he does something to atone for it. This is ironically what Dean both most admires and most infuriates him about his little brother: his unwavering determination to make things right and his absolute faith in their ability to do so. More than once he has carried Dean along in his wake by sheer willpower when all Dean wanted to do is crawl into a bottle. But these crusades never end well for Sam, and the one thing that Dean will never be able to protect Sam from is himself.

Sam crosses over to the oversized wooden double doors at the entrance, already adorned with the augmented blood sigil. He winds the cloth through both handles and ties it securely as blood continues to ooze from the cut on his forearm. Dean gets what Sam is doing now. He’s using the spell to send the blood-infused cloth back in time, homing in on his own blood in the past, to hold the doors shut back then. Dean had barely gotten to Sam in time to stop him from curing Crowley, and if it had taken him just a few more seconds to push through the door it would have been over. Will have been over.

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil on the door starts to glow dimly, and the reality that This Is Happening hits Dean like cold water in the face. He had every intention of trying to talk Sam out of this with a reasonable, adult discussion, because he knows damned well that Sam doesn’t respond to orders being yelled at him. It all flies out the window at that moment and he’s barking at Sam like a drill sergeant, because if he doesn’t, he’d be breaking down instead. He grabs Sam’s arm and spins him around.

“What the hell, Sam? You know that nothing I said while I had that thing on my arm counts. You can’t seriously believe that I meant any of—”

Sam cuts him off, his gaze intense, his voice fervent. “It’s true, Dean, what you said. Mark or not, it’s the truth. I chose to cross those lines; I chose to let the Darkness out. You told me not to, and I did it anyway. So this is me stepping up and taking responsibility. If I’ve got a chance to undo all of this, I have to take it. And right now, it’s the only play we’ve got.”

Angry words propelled by desperation shoot out of Dean before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you said about your visions of the Cage, and how did that work out for you?”

Sam visibly flinches and pulls away from Dean as his expression hardens. “Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil blazes.

This is not at all what Dean intended. He came here to talk Sam back from the edge, and instead he’s pushing him toward it. Dean swallows his anger and it tastes like acid going down, and all that remains is panic.

“Sam, just stop. I don’t care what came out of my mouth when I had the Mark, it’s all bullshit. Sam, you don’t need to do this—”

“Yeah, Dean, I really do. I wasn’t strong enough to make the right choice then, but I can do it now.”

Dean flounders for whatever magic words he needs to get through to Sam and comes up empty. He does the only thing he can think of to shock some sense into him or, preferably, to knock him cold so that he shuts the fuck up and can’t finish the spell. Dean’s fist connects with Sam’s jaw, propelling him backwards. Sam goes down, sprawling on the floor, but he’s not out. He sits up, hand to jaw, and Dean expects to see shock or anger on Sam's face, but all he sees is compassion. And Dean knows that he’s lost.

“Sammy, don’t—"

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

A blinding light envelops the cloth holding the doors shut.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

Castiel ends the call after warning Dean about Sam’s intentions. He takes a marker to one of the added symbols and alters it slightly. He freezes as Lucifer gets back in the driver’s seat.

Lucifer asks suspiciously, “And what exactly are you doing with this, Castiel?”

I’m just disrupting the sigil. The change I made will prevent the spell from accounting for the current position of the Earth relative to its position within the—

“Summarize, Poindexter.”

With the change I’ve made, whatever object Sam is sending back will end up in space. Sam will think that his alteration failed, and he won’t interfere with your plans. You would know if I was lying.

“So… I’m trying to understand this. You’re helping me by sabotaging Sam’s work… why, exactly?”

To eliminate your motivation to kill my friend.

Lucifer considers Castiel’s response. “Huh. We’ll see.”

I can still expel you.

“Now Castiel, we both know that’s an empty threat.”

Castiel is silent for a moment. Then:

It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world—

“Alright, alright. Just kidding. Grow a sense of humor.”

Now: Dean

The cloth binding the door handles is gone, but as far as Dean can tell, nothing else has changed. Sam is still on the floor, a stunned expression on his face that would be comical under any other circumstances, and all Dean can think is thank fucking God, and he starts to wonder if maybe there isn’t something out there intervening on his behalf after all.

“I don’t… it should have… it didn’t work.” Sam looks around in dazed confusion for a moment before pushing himself to his knees, and he looks up at Dean, eyes filled with defeat. Dean can’t stop the memory from superimposing itself in his mind of Sam kneeling in front of him, resigned in his acceptance of Dean’s judgment of him, waiting for the scythe to swing.

“I’m sorry...” Sam apologizes for not being dead.

Dean thinks he’s going to be sick.

He drops to Sam’s level and doesn’t know whether to shake him or maybe hit him again. He pulls Sam to himself instead and holds onto him like he’s going to blink out of existence if he lets go. Sam doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t respond.

Dean knows that there is something that Sam needs to hear, something he should have said weeks ago. Dean hasn’t been able to tell him, because it’s selfish and the good guys aren’t supposed to be selfish. The good guys are supposed to put the rest of the world first, and happily throw themselves into oblivion for “the greater good”. He keeps his grip on Sam because he doesn’t want to see Sam’s reaction to what he’s about to say; he’s not sure what Sam will think of him afterwards.

“What you said… after you risked the world for me, when you said that you’d do it again in a second…”

Sam tenses in his arms, and Dean takes a breath.

“Sammy, that wasn’t evil. That was the best fucking moment of my life.”

The statement hangs there for a few heartbeats. Then Sam relaxes, lets his chin drop to Dean’s shoulder, and tentatively folds his arms around him. Dean feels him starting to shake.

“I wanted to—I couldn’t save them.” Sam’s words fall out of him between hitched breaths.

“I know Sammy.”

“It should have been me up there instead of—”

“Don’t.”

All of the mourning that Dean hadn’t allowed Sam to express as they watched Charlie’s body burn, all of the grief that Sam has held bottled up ever since pours out of him then, and Sam clings to Dean like a drowning man to a life preserver. He doesn’t know how long they stay there. His knees are aching and his legs are falling asleep but he doesn’t care because Sam is still here and he’s alive. He waits until the tremors slow and finally stop, then slowly pulls back.

“Hey, you don’t get to put this all on yourself. I’m the one who took the Mark without reading the warning label. We’re in this together. We’ll figure this out, both of us.”

Sam just nods numbly.

“Now let’s get out of here before we hit menopause.”

Sam rewards Dean with an expelled almost-laugh and a flicker of an almost-smile, and Dean chooses to count that as a win.

~~~~~~~~~~

More Notes:

I have this nagging need to address all of the drama from 10.23 Brother's Keeper that the writers just decided to drop on the floor.

The title is named after the ST:TOS The City on the Edge of Forever. The theme of the story, at least from the original script, is that it is possible to love someone so much that you would throw away your whole universe for them. I can't help but notice the parallel to SPN.

This is exactly what Dean wants from Sam throughout seasons 8 and 9, and when Sam does it in season 10, Dean calls him evil for it. Sam just can't fucking win.

[btsslowburnfic]

Born to be Yours Ch. 10

Story Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Chapter summary: Life after you and RM part ways goes back to normal until an accident changes everything

Previous chapters found here: Chapter 9

You are surprised that life does in fact go back to normal. You and Xavier make up and get back to working with smaller local groups after the awards season ends. Things with you and Ben get back to normal; you become a master of using heavy foundation on your soulmark when you’re at home. The summer tour is amazing. You and Xavier traveled to 32 states in 4 months. You find yourself following Twitter and Weverse to see what RM is up to. And you sometimes found yourself thinking about that night the two of you spent together. You mostly try to push it out of your mind though. Even though you told Xavier and he randomly brings it up.

“Right here? On this desk!?!” he asks, running his hands over the surface.

“Yes. And don’t do that, it’s weird and gross.”

“How was it? Describe it to me again.”

You chuckle a bit and roll your eyes, “No. I told you once so I could get it out of my system.”

“Ughhh you’re so boring.” he whines playfully.

“Shouldn’t you be reprimanding me about being a terrible cheating slut?” you raise an eyebrow.

“No. I ship that shit.” he responds, sipping on a smoothie. “Have you eaten yet?” he asks

You laugh and look through your phone. “No, I had a zoom meeting with Gina at noon and then I covered spinning class.” You press some buttons on your screen. “There. I just ordered. I’ll see you in a while.” You stand up and put your flip flops back on.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in pilates tonight.”

You toss your bag over your shoulder and put your sunglasses on as you step out the door. You look both ways and start to cross the street as you hear a screeching sound. The next thing you hear and feel is the sickening crunch of bone hitting glass. Tires screeching away and then everything is black.

----------------

Namjoon occasionally finds himself thinking about you. Mostly when he accidentally slams his body into a door frame or cuts his finger. He always says he’s sorry and then kind of feels like an idiot for apologizing to no one. He also thinks about the night the two of you shared together quite often and had made Jhope send him those photos he took.

He’s happy to be working and on tour again. It’s been a fun summer. They wrapped up the Asia portion of their journey and were well into Europe now. As usual, the filming crew was in the green room as they were preparing for their second night at Wembley. The first night had been amazing. He couldn’t think of anything that made him happier than being in front of ARMY, especially when they were singing along to the songs he wrote. He smiled as he scrolled through his phone while he had his makeup touched up. 

“10 minutes, 10 minutes.” Management called out.

“Alright guys, let’s get it.” he yells through the green room.

They gather around and do their chant. The minute they step out of the green room they can hear the fans roaring and cheering along to the pre-show videos. They each go to their respective starting positions and wait to hear the signal. 

They open quick and fast with “On” and the crowd is absolutely pumped. They begin their second song and will then introduce themselves. The music for “Dionysus” begins to play and the elaborate set pieces are added throughout the song. They are almost to the end of Dionysus when RM goes down hard. He falls off the table. People are gasping, Jin runs over and signals to the staff on the side of the stage that something is very wrong. ARMY and BTS are freaking out. The visual director quickly puts a message onto the big screens to please wait a moment. The medical staff immediately takes the lift up to the main backstage area. The obvious damage is a cut on his arm that took the brunt of the fall from the table, but that gash can’t account for the fact that he’s unconscious and breathing shallowly. There is a rush of oxygen masks and people yelling. Jimin and JK start crying, the other guys are freaked out about the show and what to do next. Jin rises to the occasion by asking if they should go ahead and skip to his and Suga’s solos until there is more information. A decision is quickly made to begin the solo portions. The two of them quickly change costumes and prepare to go out. An ambulance ends up needing to be called. The guys decide that Namjoon would want the show to go on and so they do. It’s ugly and weird and they are unfocused but they manage through it. ARMY is crying for RM because they know it’s bad when he doesn’t come back on stage. They skip the ments and encore and  the guys are immediately loaded into vans and transported to the private health facility that he’s been taken to. 

The staff escorts the six of them to a room where they wait for a doctor to come and speak to them. A translator is located and brought in as well.

“What happened? Did anybody see what happened before he fell?” Hoseok asks.

“He was fine. I didn’t notice anything strange.” Tae responds. 

“They took video and showed the doctor,”Yoongi adds, having overheard the staff on the way there.

After a few minutes a doctor comes in. “Hello Gentleman. Your friend is in good hands here, and is stable.” she reassures them. 

There is a collective sigh from the group as they hear this news.

“However, we aren’t sure what’s causing this condition. There is no evidence of an aneurysm on the CT scan and the video doesn't show any seizure-like activity prior to the fall. His heart is in excellent shape as well as his lungs. At this point we are running more tests but we do need to ask you all some questions here. Please answer honestly. Does your friend use any drugs? Even maybe extra prescription medication?”

It takes a few seconds for the translator to relay the message and the guys’ reactions range from anger to disbelief. Jin is up on his feet shouting about how they should be focusing on fixing Namjoon rather than gossiping, Jimin is crying more. It’s a mess.

“Calm down guys, it’s a standard question,” Yoongi says stoically. “She’s not trying to be rude.”

“No. He drinks beer and wine sometimes. But no. He’s not on any drugs.  That’s ridiculous.” Jungkook summarizes.

“I’m sorry, it’s something I do have to ask. Is there anything else you guys could think of that might be pertinent? An old injury? Something he did earlier today or ate that he doesn’t usually?”

The guys all sat there for a minute. It was Jin who made the connection first: “His soulmate. She lives in LA.”

Tae’s hand flew to his phone to make a phone call.. The next few things happened over the course of a few hours: a phone call to Hitman Bang to get Gina’s contact information. Several phone calls to Gina. Calls from Gina to you. No answer. Phone calls to Xavier. No answer. Xavier calling Gina back hysterically sobbing that you were in a coma with a skull fracture and blood loss, Gina crying, Gina having someone else call Hitman Bang because she couldn’t stop sobbing, Hitman Bang calling Tae back.

The doctor was updated on the situation. “Ah...well that would explain it. Were the two of them very close?” she asks delicately.

It’s highly inappropriate but Yoongi just laughs, “No. They met one time .”

The doctor raised her eyebrows, “Oh. Well that’s unusual.”

“If she dies, will he die too?” Jimin asks quietly with tears in his eyes.

“No. And especially not if they weren’t close. I need to consult with some colleagues on this before we proceed. If you all want to go get some rest I think he’s going to be like this for a while. We can call you if anything changes.” the doctor informs them.

They are uneasy about leaving Namjoon there so they split up into groups of two to take turns. Jin and JK take the first shift at the care facility.

 ----------------

The doctor reaches out to several colleagues who are familiar with more case studies of soul mate injuries and what to do when there is a mirrored trauma response. She gets permission from RM’s parents (who have flown to London as well at this point) to try a reverse cryogenic procedure to restart his systems. Basically, they will bring his body down to an almost hypothermic point and slowly reheat him, encouraging cell regeneration and movement. It has been successful in similar cases, but it is a slow procedure that needs to be carefully monitored. 

Meanwhile, social media is having a field day about what could have happened. BigHit put out that story that RM has developed a severe allergic reaction to shellfish and went into anaphylaxis on the stage; he was administered an epi-pen and hospitalized but is now resting and recovering. The rest of the guys give interviews to back up this story as well. 48 hours after the incident began, RM is slowly regaining consciousness. 

“What happened? I feel like someone is opening up my skull with a pair of pliers.” he asks the doctor.

“I’m sorry but your soulmate was in a very bad car accident. She’s in a coma and you suffered a mirrored trauma response. I’m going to go let your friends and family know you’re awake.” 

“Shit.” RM says, really taking in everything that was just said to him. 

Jin is the first one in the room. “Hey. You’re finally awake. We were so worried.”

“How long have I been out for?”

“2 days.”

“Shit. What happened with the concert? Is everything ok? Oh God. What did they tell people?”

“One thing at a time.” Yoongi said as he entered the room. “We finished the show. The tour is postponed for at least a few weeks. We told people you had an allergic reaction.”

RM visibly relaxed but was still upset about the show. “Those fans have to be so disappointed.”

“Yeah, but they want you to be well. There’s thousands of flowers and cards being left at Wembley and so many messages on Weverse. We’ll make the dates up when you’re better. ARMY understands. It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s [Y/N]’s fault.” he says briskly. 

“I mean. She got flattened by a car. So, not really.” Tae added.”She’s in an actual coma. They can;'t just reheat her.” he was surprised by how cold RM sounded talking about his soulmate.

“You’re right. I’m just...it’s a lot. My head still hurts and I guess I just want someone to blame.”

“Blame the asshole who hit her,” Yoongi adds.

“Yeah. I will. I’m so tired.”

“Here, we’ll leave so you can talk to your parents for a minute before you rest.”

“My parents flew in?” he says surprised.

“We thought you were going to die,” Jimin says seriously. “Your sister is on her way here too.”

Rm laid his head back against his pillow. This is exactly the kind of soulmate bullshit he’s been trying to avoid. And you were in a coma. He stopped for a minute and thought about how scary it must be for you but he won’t allow himself to dwell on it. He’s getting his soul mark obliterated as soon as you wake up from your coma and sign off on it. If you wake up from it. Shit. 

----

24 hours later he is discharged from the hospital and decides to book a flight to LA to see what your doctors are doing about rectifying this situation. He can’t shake the massive headache and leg pain that he’s still experiencing constantly. He cannot perform like this. Also he’s looked into the legal status of soulmark obliteration if one party is a permanently vegetative state and what counts as legal consent. Because of course he has. The guys all talk and decide that Tae will go along with him for support. Really it’s to be the voice of reason because they can’t believe that rather than going to see how you’re doing, he is going to ask you to remove your mark. 

------------

RM knows what hospital you are at because his doctor consulted with yours in order to determine the best course of treatment. You doctor was hoping that once RM woke up, you would show signs of improvement. So far though, there wasn’t a lot on your end.

Ben and Xavier dutifully took shifts staying with you in the hospital. On this particular night, Ben is taking the night shift, walking back from the vending machines. He stops when he sees two dudes who look like models standing outside your door.

“Hey. Are you guys friends with [Y/N]? You must be from the studio. I don’t think we’ve met before. I'm Ben” Ben is tired but tries to be friendly.

Tae and Namjoon turn and look to him. Ben. Ben must be her boyfriend. 

“Actually we’re from one of the bands she worked with. I’m Namjoon and this is Taehyung. You must be her boyfriend?”

“Fiance actually,” Ben politely corrects. “Just a few weeks ago actually,” he awkwardly laughs. “But then this all happened. You know the asshole didn’t even stop?” 

Tae feels extremely awkward. He can understand a small bit of what’s going on, but he knows that what’s coming will be very difficult for everyone.

“That’s awful. How is she doing?”

“Bad. Stable. But, bad. She lost a lot of blood and hit her head pretty hard. They’re surprised she didn’t have any broken bones other than her skull fracture. She dislocated her shoulder when it hit the hood. The guy was definitely speeding.” Ben runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry if you were hoping to visit.”

RM awkwardly runs his hands up and down his jeans. There is not an easy way to say this.

“So. You know that [Y/N] has a soulmark on her wrist?”

Ben stiffens ever so slightly, “I do. But it’s ok. We don’t really care about that whole destiny thing. It’s unconventional but you know…” he trails off.

RM takes a deep breath and rolls up his sleeve. “I have the matching soulmark. I was in a coma for 2 days. I need to speak to her doctor immediately.” NEXT CHAPTER

[theartsynoodle]

The Music Between Characters: Luz and Amity Part 1 Enchanting Grom Fright

I think that pretty much everything that could be said about Enchanting Grom Fright has been said, but there is one thing I don’t think I have seen anyone really talking about when it comes to Luz and Amity’s encounters.

The music. Especially in the last two episodes, everytime they come face to face or appear in the same scene the music just ... gives off very different vibes. I’m going to leave this under a cut since it might get long.

Okay, so pls bear with me here!! I am not good when it comes to describing music, editing things, or using tumblr in general. This is my first time ever trying to do an analysis! I wanna start off saying the music in the owl house is incredible. It gets me fully immersed into the world and is so mystical and fun. It can be intense and really knows the tone its going for. The music around Luz and Amity is no exception. It’s a little out there, I can always feel the shift in tone whenever they face each other. (This mostly applying to Enchanting Grom Fright and Wing it Like Witches.)

I’ll start with the first scene that really caught my attention, in the gym where Amity explains to Luz what Grom really is. (The scene in the hall with her holding the letter doesn’t have music except for when Bump is making the Grom announcement over the speakers.)

When she walks down to Luz, there’s a sort of whimsical sad music playing. A major shift from the silence or normal music we’re used to hearing in scenes. It sounds like bells and chimes in a way. It resonates in the way of “this sucks for Amity so music is sad” kind of way obviously, but there’s an innocent tone to it. Scared, quiet, unsure.

Then eventually we get to the woods where both Amity and Luz have appeared to run to in a means of escapism from their lives for a second. Luz being frustrated that Eda thinks she’s weak and the guilt she feels about lying to her mom, and Amity having no where else to really go and having to deal with the whole Grom mess.

As they face each other, It’s the same music as in the gym. It’s whimsical, nervous, and curious sounding. Like they’re both unsure of what they are supposed to be feeling in the moment because to us, we can see the obvious romantic tension, but to these two, it’s complete uncertainty. Amity has more of an understanding of her feelings yes, but she’s young, it’s new, it’s scary. For Luz, she has never though that any one could possibly like her, so in these moments she is frozen. Once again, there are what sounds like bells and chimes, and when Luz says she’ll take her place, there’s a crescendo in more brass like instruments, Luz’s more upbeat and loud personality taking over the calmer of the music, the aforementioned bells, chimes, and orchestral instruments, which seems to be more connected to Amity.

So to clarify, in my opinion I believe that these two have stronger connections to these instruments (especially in this episode.):

(Amity- Orchestral instruments, bells, chimes.

Luz- Brass instruments, drums, anything to keep the beat really.)

These instruments often collide with each other in ways I have never noticed before. Their uncertainty and cautiousness around one another causes their music to overlap and dominate each other, fazing in and out depending on who is talking more in the scene.

This sort of distinction in instruments happens again when they are training at the Owl House.

When Amity is frustrated about Luz’s more common and feeble fears, a more classical and melancholic tune is prominent. When Luz looks up the Owl House and says her fear is being weak, the brass blasts in,admittedly for only a second, again.

Then of course, of course, we have the hallway scene.

Now music extremely similar to the forest and the gym scene plays here again. It being most notable to me right when Amity is standing in the doorway of the gym holding the note. This tune seems to play during their more personal and intimate scenes. Scenes where Amity is vulnerable. In the gym she shows fear about the fight when explaining it to Luz, in the woods she expresses fear again when she complains Bump wouldn’t let her off the hook if she didn’t have a fill in, in the woods again when Luz offers to take her place and Amity takes it, admitting she feels too weak to do it herself, and in the hall, right before the fight where she thanks Luz, complimenting her and applauding her bravery, something Amity hasn’t done before.

Now this isn’t exactly Amity and Luz together, but before the iconic dance we see Amity’s fear.

Each note of the music associated more to her, it’s on it’s own. There’s not much to accompany it. Each beat is clear, short, and concise, probably relating to the fact that this is her fear and her fear alone. She’s facing it alone at this point, Luz’s personality isn’t there to liven it up, it’s just a heartbroken girl having the sad, almost distorted sounding notes play by themselves.

As soon as Luz walks up to Amity and picks up the note, realization of what Amity’s fear was hitting her, she offers to take her to Grom as what I assume as a piano and flute play in the background, lifting the spirits of the scene. While I didn’t recognize these instruments in other scenes, maybe this is for the resolution in Amity and Luz. They both don’t have to face their fears alone, they are there for each other.

Then the scene that I will never shut up about happens. The dance.

This is where their music works in perfect harmony, the strings are louder and more confident, and the hard beat and brass instruments (I make out cymbals more) in the background is solid and powerful. It flows together so well, the dance and the music with it being a huge symbol for their growth as people and the growth of their relationship. The unknowing and tense chimes are gone, only the confident harmony now present, each character putting behind their insecurities together to fight.

After their dance is where I heard the chimes again, but this time they were different.

They were more upbeat and happy sounding, a little faster and higher than in the previous scenes. Amity and Luz are relaxed, their tense day finally has a happy ending where they (somewhat) faced their fears and had one crazy Grom night. The music peaks as it’s revealed to the viewers that Amity wanted to ask Luz out all along (of course we knew that though then it fades out as King enters the scene.

Do not get me wrong, I am sure there are tunes similar to this in the show, but it just hits differently in scenes with these two. Could I be completely over reading it? Could I be completely butchering what I’m actually trying to say? Yes and Yes.I really want to hear if any one was thinking something similar or if I’m just completely over reading it.

(If anyone was curious why I’m thinking like this, this in fact is my Steven Universe brain at work. For those who don’t know, SU had certain instruments that strongly connected and represented each character and played a significant part in the show when retaining to relationships.)

Now that I’m done with Enchanting Grom Fright, I’ gonna do Wing it Like Witches next which is going to be so fun. (Though it’ll be much shorter)

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

Dark Dealings

Warnings: Brief suicidal thoughts.

Summary: Arthur time is nearing its end, but perhaps he can buy himself some more time by making a deal.

Characters: Arthur Morgan

Words: 2,108

Arthur’s campfire glowed brightly in the darkness, illuminating his small camp nestled deep in the woods. He coughed and pulled his thin, ratty blanket tighter around his shoulders in an attempt to keep the cold off of his back. The night was warm and the fire was warmer, but Arthur was sick, and a chill had settled itself deep in the cowboy’s bones. 

The wind shifted and he was left sitting in the midst of a smoke cloud from the fire for only a brief moment. The cough that followed was ragged and harsh and left Arthur gasping for breath. He tried to ignore the splatters of crimson that soaked into the wool of his blanket. As he sat huddled on the cold ground, Arthur thought back on the past few months and how he ended up in this situation. He supposed he deserved it. He got sick from beating up an innocent man, after all.

When he first found out he was sick and had started to feel the effects of Tuberculosis, he had gone to the doctor to try and get help. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. Time went on and his illness progressed, and he found himself sharing words with a nun in Saint Denis. She offered a moment of peace and comfort, and Arthur left her presence feeling more at peace with his fate. He was going to die soon, and that was okay. He was ready for it. And then he met someone else, and it seemed that perhaps life wasn’t done with him just yet.

He was enjoying fishing a river north of Saint Denis, past the swamp, when a man about Dutch’s age wandered over. He himself had a fishing pole and asked Arthur if they could fish together. The cowboy agreed and the man cast his line. It wasn’t long before Arthur began to cough and the man turned to him, clearly concerned. He tried to play it down, but it was more than obvious that he was sick and not doing too well. Bloodshot eyes, a pallid complexion, and thin frame were all evidence enough.

“It’s just a little cold,” he tried to assure the man. “I’ll be right as rain in-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as another fit took over and he doubled over, hacking and coughing up blood. 

“You’re badly ill…” the man observed. 

Arthur couldn’t respond, he was too busy gasping for air. 

“You know…” the man continued, kneeling down next to Arthur, who had given up trying to stand and now sat, defeated, on the riverbank, his fishing pole forgotten. 

“There’s a man. A sort of… miracle worker,” the stranger told Arthur. “You know, I used to be paralyzed from the waist down. Had no feeling or movement in my legs, and look at me now. Riding, fishing, hunting. This man is a gift from god, I tell you. He healed me with a snap of his fingers.”

“Really…” Arthur regarded the man, incredulous.

“Yes, really,” the stranger confirmed. “Look, I have, uh…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black card. “This!” He handed the card to Arthur. “He told me to give it to anyone who looked in need of his services.” 

Arthur studied the card. It was made of sturdy black paper and written in shimmering crimson ink was an intricate rune of curved lines and strange symbols. 

After considering for a moment, he asked his new friend, “Where exactly can I find this miracle worker?”

The man nodded. “He’s all over the place, really. Saint Denis one day, Strawberry the next. I found him in a saloon in Valentine. Or… he found me. His schedule seems to take him everywhere, so… you might have to ask around a bit to try and see where you can catch him.”

Arthur chuckled dryly. “I aint sure I’ve got the time or the energy to be running around trying to find some mystery miracle worker.”

The cowboy’s reverie broke and he found himself back in front of his fire, shivering, a black card clutched tightly between his cold fingers. He regarded it once more, disappointment at the forefront of his mind. He wasn’t long for this world now… and he hadn’t been able to locate the man. He supposed this was how it was supposed to go. At least he would die in peace.

“You can be a very difficult man to find, Mister Morgan.”

Arthur turned as best he could to locate the owner of the deep voice that had sounded behind him. A man in a black shirt with sleeves rolled up and a rich-looking crimson vest stepped out of the darkness and strode up to Arthur, then settled himself on the ground to the cowboy’s left, in front of the fire. He outstretched his hands to warm them, not looking Arthur’s way.

“Can I help you?” Arthur asked hoarsely, though he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he already knew who this man was. 

“I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

Finally, he turned to regard Arthur. Whether it was the fever coursing through his veins, or a trick of the night shadows coupled with the roaring fire, Arthur didn’t know, but the man’s eyes were… strange. It was like blood swirling around in black ink, or perhaps red smoke in a dark void.

The man studied him with these otherworldly eyes and the chill that was already present in Arthur’s bones intensified tenfold. He shivered violently and turned his attention to the fire. He couldn’t stare into those eyes… he couldn’t hold that gaze that peered into his very soul.

“You, uh…” Arthur cleared his throat and tried to steady his nerves. “I was told that you could help me.”

From out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man nod.

“You have Tuberculosis,” the man stated plainly. “And you want me to heal you.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. “I was under the impression that you were a… a doctor… or somethin’.”

The stranger warmed his hands again. “Not a doctor no, but I can heal you. For a price.”

Of course there was a price. Arthur knew there would be.

“I have money,” he offered.

The man chuckled dryly. There was no humor behind that sound. No friendliness. It was cold.

“Your money means nothing to me. Normally, I would take your soul, but yours isn’t worth much to me.”

“My soul?” Arthur asked, taken aback.

“Yes, your soul.”

“What on earth would you want with my soul?”

“I don’t want your soul,” the man scoffed, and ran a hand through his black hair. “You see, I’m only interested in souls that can offer me something. Souls that have some benefit. Artists paint for me, musicians sing, chefs make me food, etcetera. You’re not particularly talented. All you’re good at is killing people and I can do that just fine on my own.”

Arthur gazed into the dancing orange flames, a heavy weight on his heart and disappointment more prominent in the forefront of his mind than before. He should have accepted by now that he was going to die, and perhaps to an extent he had, but there was still a pesky little flicker of hope urging him to hold on, begging him to keep trying. That flicker died as he sat here, talking to this “miracle worker”. He had nothing to offer this stranger, nothing to trade for his life.

“Perhaps…” the man’s voice brought him out of his jumbled thoughts, and Arthur spared a glance over to see him gazing into the same flames that he had found himself lost in.

“Would you consider yourself a good talker, Mister Morgan?” he asked, and Arthur found himself being drawn into the depths of those blood red eyes when the man’s gaze met his again.

He forced himself to look away, which was easy enough as a coughing fit hit and he curled in on himself, hacking up blood onto the dirt at his feet.

“Yes, you are a good talker, aren’t you?” the man continued. “You’re charming. People like you.”

There was a beat of silence where all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and Arthur’s ragged breathing. He was tired… so tired. If he closed his eyes for just a moment…

“No drifting off just yet.”

It was as if the man’s voice was in both ears and the back of his mind. His eyes flew open and he blinked a few times, then cleared his throat and dared to speak. His voice was quiet and hoarse, but he managed.

“I suppose I’m good at gettin’ people to trust me.”

“You are,” the man confirmed. Arthur didn’t know how he knew, but at this point he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. Everything about this strange man screamed danger.

“I think perhaps you do have something to offer me after all.”

That annoying little flicker of hope rekindled then, but Arthur didn’t have the energy to pay it much mind. He chuckled dryly, which led to another coughing fit that left him clutching his ribs and gasping for even the tiniest shred of air that his ruined lungs could manage. He wasn't able to answer this time. He couldn’t. The stranger pushed himself to his feet and brushed his expensive-looking black jeans off, then turned to Arthur. The cowboy managed a glance up, and the angle with which the man was standing over him, uplit by the flickering fire, screamed PREDATOR. RUN. Arthur’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest, afraid that perhaps this man had decided to be “merciful” and tear him apart piece by piece instead of letting the sickness take him slowly. Instead, he crossed his arms.

“This is the deal, Mister Morgan, so pay attention. I heal you from any and all ailments, you’ll feel better than you ever have before, you’ll never get sick again, and all your wounds will heal, no matter how fatal. In return, anyone you find in your travels that looks like they could use my help, you send my way, just like that man sent you to me. You will do this until you eventually die. Understood?”

Arthur nodded. 

“Do we have a deal?”

The cowboy sighed, as deeply as he could without causing himself too much pain. This man was after souls. Arthur didn’t know if he even believed in souls, but sending innocent people to this stranger to have god-knows-what happen to them wasn’t exactly his idea of a fun time. He wasn’t a good man, sure, but he did his best not to be too horrible. He helped where he could and didn’t steal or murder unless he absolutely had to. Was damning people really worth his life? Did he want that on his conscience? 

Still, despite all this doubt and the tightness around his heart, Arthur found himself nodding. The stranger offered his hand, and the cowboy managed to reach over to shake it, albeit slowly. A stinging pain in the back of his hand made Arthur jerk away with a hiss. 

“It’s been a pleasure, Mister Morgan. We’ll meet again.”

Before Arthur could ask how exactly he was going to be healed, the man vanished. The ground was undisturbed where he sat, the chill that came with him had gone, and the sounds of the night animals returned. It was as if he had never been there in the first place, and Arthur may have thought that his illness-addled mind had just played a cruel trick on him if not for the burning on the back of his right hand and the black card still grasped in the other. 

Another coughing attack doubled him over and his world spun, black around the edges, as he nearly hacked up both of his lungs. He found himself lying on the hard dirt ground, in pain and unable to breathe, and he tossed the black card into the fire. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t even have the energy for that. At this point, he wished he was already dead. How much longer would he have to wait to finally be able to rest? How much longer would this misery drag out. He was of half a mind to end it right now, but his gun was just ever so slightly out of reach and he couldn’t bring himself to crawl over to grab it. Instead, he pulled his ratty blanket more tightly around him, closed his eyes, and fell into the black nothingness that was sleep.

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.8.4 “Authority Gains Its Power”

“Fantine had not seen Javert since the day the mayor had saved her from him. Her sick brain could not grasp anything except that she was sure he had come for her.” This makes me wonder about Fantine’s grasp on time while she’s been ill. It’s been two months since she first fell ill, but it seems like she thinks it’s been almost no time.

“Javert did not say “Hurry up!” he said, “Hur-up!” No spelling could express the tone in which this was said it was no longer human speech; it was a howl.” FMA really doubling down on the wolf imagery here translating “rugissement” as howl instead of roar. I love it.

“To him Jean Valjean was a sort of mysterious and intangible antagonist, a shadowy wrestler with whom he had been struggling for five years, without being able to throw him. This arrest was not a beginning, but an end.” This line and the one from the beginning of the chapter about Fantine thinking Javert has come for her secures him once again as a sort of Angel Of Death for both of them. This arrest is the literal end for Fantine and the symbolic end for Madeleine-Valjean.

Also this line establishes just how much Madeleine’s real identity has consumed Javert’s thoughts in the past 5 years that he’s been a major community leader. It hasn’t just been a passing “huh, this guy really reminds me of that convict Valjean from Toulon” type thing for Javert. It’s been a sort of conflict and, probably since the cart incident at least, an obsession. It’s also interesting because it seems to establish Javert as believing that Valjean was his responsibility, and coming to that belief as soon as he learned about Valjean’s theft of Petit Gervais’ coin. Like, Valjean is not an antagonist he’s struggled with only since Madeleine became mayor and this person Javert maybe suspected suddenly became more high-profile, it’s an internal conflict he’s had since the robbery was reported, which probably wasn’t more than 6 months after its occurrence (I would assume). Javert’s wasn’t just obsessing over Madeleine possibly being Valjean because maybe finding a wanted convict would be good for his name or whatever, he was obsessing over it because he fully felt it was his responsibility to find this wanted man.

Jean Valjean is no longer Madeleine to the reader. Hugo’s narration only calls him Jean Valjean, the full name, this entire chapter. His old identity has been pulled away and he can no longer wrap M Madeleine around himself. And he’s only going to be Jean Valjean or Madeleine for another chapter; the next time we see him after that, he’ll be Prisoner Number 9430. For a long time in the narration he was Madeleine, then he was just “the man” and variations thereupon, then he was both “Madeleine” and “Valjean” and now he is only Valjean.

The weirdest thing in this chapter is that Hugo blatantly states that Sister Simplice is in the room with them this entire time. She is here and she does absolutely nothing. I mean, this is understandable. Not only is she a woman, but she also doesn’t have any sort of leverage over either of them in any other way. She’s just a nun, just a woman of the church (and not even a woman, according to Hugo, she’s something else entirely), and she can’t really do anything to stop Valjean’s arrest or appeal to Javert or anything. But in the next chapter Javert is literally stopped from entering by Simplice’s Authority of Religiosity. So why isn’t he stopped by her religiosity here? Because this is a mirror of Fantine in 1.5.13, begging Javert for mercy and Javert telling her that “The Eternal Father in person couldn’t help you now.” Again, the law is above god here, and again he will not be moved to mercy, even by god.

“She saw the spy Javert seize the mayor by the collar: she saw the mayor bow his head. The world seemed to vanish before her eyes. Javert, in fact, had taken Jean Valjean by the collar.”

This is pretty obvious, but Madeleine is literally turning into Valjean before Fantine’s eyes. I love the way that Hugo says it though. I get the sense that it’s not just that Javert is seeing Valjean as Valjean now, but that Madeleine’s entire demeanor has changed. So he’s literally not taking Madeleine by the collar, because his demeanor would have been Madeleine’s; he’s taking Valjean by the collar, because he’s dropped the Madeleine act (at least at this very moment).

“Aloud, speak aloud. People speak out loud to me.” Ugh god this line is just so self-serving and shitty. This isn’t Javert being morally righteous via the law or acting as society personified. This is just Javert being petty and shitty because he was humiliated by Madeleine before, and now he wants that personal power reversed.

“Javert stamped his foot.” Is this meant to be as childish as it sounds? This is a really intense moment, but Javert is weirdly powerless as both Valjean and Fantine start talking back in their own ways, refusing to go quietly.

“Miserable town, where convicts are magistrates and prostitutes are nursed like countesses! Ha, but all that will be changed, high time!” It’s so interesting that Javert says this now, because it’s revealed later that after Madeleine left, Montreuil-sur-Mer’s prosperity crumbled. Which means that the town will go back to being like any other poor, garrisoned town, with a prostitution trade and plenty of depths of depravity. And I think we’re supposed to think that without Madeleine there to run a system that helps to uphold the morals and productivity and prosperity of the town, it’ll just fall back into corruption. Except that all of that depravity already existed under Madeleine’s leadership, it was just hidden better than maybe it would be if the whole town was failing. So once he leaves, yes, probably the prostitutes and criminals etc will be treated the way Javert wants them to be treated, rather than with any sort of sympathy or willingness to listen and mediate that Madeleine maybe offered to some but not all.

Fantine’s death is, I think, the only death in the book that gets such a visceral description. M. Pontmercy is already dead when we see him, Eponine just puts her head on Marius’ knee, Gavroche’s death is fairly poetic, all of Les Amis get their deaths described but they’re all so quick it’s like a montage, Javert’s actual death isn’t described. Mabeuf’s death might be the closest in terms of intense description, but Fantine’s definitely is the most detailed. Also, we get more drowning imagery. If Javert is the personification of the Law and the justice system, he is part of what tosses the unfortunate into the night-sea of prison and the mud of poverty. She is drowning because what killed her is also what drowns the poor. And I think it’s interesting that she looks to each of them, trying to speak, but she can’t reach anyone. She can’t speak to Jean Valjean (note that he’s not Madeleine here) because she doesn’t know Jean Valjean, and he’s no longer her savior, she can’t speak to Javert because he will not bend and has no mercy, and she can’t speak to the nun because currently authority will not bow to religion and she knows that because it didn’t bow to religion the last time. Now that Valjean has no power to free her, she can’t go to him. Also, I want to know the significance of her head hitting the headboard. Hugo doesn’t have her just fall back onto the pillow; she bangs her head first, like a strange sort of last injustice.

I also feel like the actual actions of Fantine’s death as well as Valjean whispering in her ear afterward have some sort of religious parallel that I’m not catching because I don’t know enough?

Also just ugh. Fantine dies knowing that Cosette is not out there, that Cosette is not anywhere near here, and that she will not see Cosette. It’s just such a horrible, blunt betrayal after she was so full of hope. I wonder if that’s why (later) Valjean can’t talk to Cosette about her? He doesn’t know how to confront the fact that, intentional or not, he had a hand in this betrayal? It makes sense that it is at this moment that she dies. She has been holding on for Cosette, the hope of seeing Cosette has been keeping her alive. Now, she has the realization that Cosette is not in M-sur-M, and then almost immediately after has the realization that Madeleine is not going to be able to go and retrieve Cosette.

“Jean Valjean put his hand on that of Javert, which was holding him, and opened it as he would have opened the hand of a child; then he said, “You have killed this woman.”

There’s so much child-behavior in Javert in this chapter, and I’m not sure what to make of it. The stamping of the foot, the sort of loud, frustrated insistence of respect, this opening of his hand, the way he yells at Valjean to listen to him or it’s the handcuffs and Valjean just ignores him. Javert is so impatient here and Valjean is so grave and calm. But that’s how it seems to be from now on. @everyonewasabird​ talked in his last post about how this is actually where Javert’s fall is, or at least where it begins. I totally agree with that, because it’s also where his grave, stable behavior starts to falter. In the last chapter, he was gleeful. In this chapter, he’s impatient. In Paris, we won’t see him display behavior this extreme until he’s at the barricade, but his behavior still seems different from the Javert we originally met. Much as I adore the “Would you like my hat?” line, it’s so dramatic and, I don’t know, sort of smug? Which I could see this current Javert doing, but not Javert from 1.6.2 or earlier. This whole episode has caused, as Hugo said, an inner earthquake for Javert, and I think it literally changes his entire personality. Not drastically, nothing crazy, but it does what an earthquake might do: it shifts some things around, changes his inner terrain just enough that it looks totally familiar but the ground he’s walking on is just a little rougher than before.

I’m so glad my post from a couple chapters ago included that comment about Javert and Valjean’s back-and-forth conflict because! This shift in power! Now it’s Valjean who is righteous and Valjean that is terrifying and Valjean that has the control! This chapter is just a fencing match between the two of them. Valjean starts off mildly more powerful: Javert doesn’t touch him while Fantine’s eyes are closed; it’s only when she opens them again that he again has the power over her and over Valljean. He takes Valjean by the collar and Valjean doesn’t attempt to struggle or get free. Once Fantine is dead, Valjean again assumes control and opens Javert’s hand like it’s nothing. I sort of feel like he still kind of retains the upper hand (at least morally) even at the very end when he gives himself up to Javert’s disposal. (Also, it’s interesting that Valjean has the control when Fantine isn’t looking, but Javert has control when she is. Not sure what to make of that.)

Javert’s retreat to the door is so odd. It feels so calm and detached. He doesn’t actually seem frightened or threatened by Valjean’s diy truncheon. I wonder if this is Javert’s version of the way that Valjean does things on autopilot when he’s in shock. Everything that’s happening is just so stunning that when Valjean moves away from him, Javert just automatically moves to the door. And his decision not to call the guard feels like he’s making excuses? It’s pretty obvious at this point that Valjean isn’t going to move from Fantine’s bedside until he’s ready. Except that at this point, Valjean is the one with the control, and the conflict is between him and Javert. Calling the guard adds another element and upsets the balance.

“His iron bar in hand, Jean Valjean walked slowly toward Fantine’s bed. On reaching it, he turned and said to Javert in a voice that could scarcely be heard, “I advise you not to disturb me now.” Nothing is more certain than the fact that Javert shuddered.” My first thought is: I don’t know what to make of this? Is Javert scared? Overwhelmed? Confused? Feeling Valjean’s authority? My second thought is: this is the start of Javert’s eventual change at the end of the novel. He cannot admit it to himself here, but he’s seeing Valjean act with the same selflessness and mercy that he’ll see with himself at the barricades and Marius at the sewers. His inner change can’t happen until then, but I wonder if this affects his later ability to change how he sees Valjean.

Fantine does get, like, the closest thing to a happy ending that any of the dead people in this book can get. Whatever Valjean tells or promises her, her spirit seems to hear and smiles. She suffers so much at the hands of society, at the hands of everyone, and she dies in betrayal and misery. It’s like the least Hugo could do was give her soul some sort of happiness after the fact.

[gascon-en-exil]

A Game of Thrones 10th Anniversary Season Ranking: Part 2

Link to Part 1

Time for the bottom half of the list. The four seasons here will surprise no one, but the order might.

#5 Season 6

You can tell what I most what to talk about here...but there's an order to these things.

S6 actually has a bunch of great ideas, but they drown beneath the most slapdash plotting and character work the show has seen yet in order to set the stage for the narrower conflicts of the last two seasons. It's notorious for bringing back characters who haven't been seen in a season or longer only to kill them off (Balon Greyjoy, Osha, Hodor, the Blackfish, Rickon, Walder Frey) or awkwardly graft them back into the main plot (Sandor Clegane, Bran). There are plot threads that ought to be compelling but are too rushed in execution, like the siege of Riverrun, Littlefinger's hand in the Battle of the Bastards, or Daenerys's time back among the Dothraki and then finally getting the hell out of Meereen. Arya hits on the only interesting part of her two-season sojourn in Braavos - a stage play, of all things - only for it to stumble at the end with a disappointing offscreen death and some incomprehensible philosophy ahead of the start of her murder tour of Westeros. There's also so much cutting off the branches, enough to be conspicuous; the final shot of Daenerys leading an armada of about half the remaining cast she assembled partially offscreen says that better than anything else. Well, not anything....

Highlight: Without exaggeration, the opening of S6E10 is easily my favorite sequence in all of GoT. The staging, the music, the mounting suspense even as it becomes increasingly obvious what's about to happen, the twisted religious references particularly in Cersei's mock confession to Unella, Tommen throwing himself out a window because he can't deal with the reality of how terrible his mother is, how Cersei gives absolutely no fucks whatsoever about murdering hundreds of people at once in a calculated act of vengeance largely prompted by her own poorly thought out actions - I love it all. It's the single most masterfully-executed act of villainy in the whole show - Daenerys torching King's Landing probably has a higher body count, but the presentation there is all muddled - and if I had any doubts about Cersei being my favorite multi-season major character they were silenced in this moment. The explosion of the Sept doesn't sit perfectly with me, because I liked the Tyrells and because of what I said about deaths like theirs and Renly's in the previous post under S2, but I think that unease only cements the strength of this sequence. It's an overused phrase in fandom these days, but GoT at its best is all about moral greyness that gives its audience room for multilayered reactions. Cersei nuking the Sept and making herself the sole power in King's Landing, which in a sense is just a more overt example of the kind of character/plot consolidation elsewhere represented by Daenerys's armada, is one of those events that's impossible to approach from a single angle if you care about any of the characters involved. And hey, it's not in the books (yet, presumably), so unlike Ned's death or the Red Wedding the GoT showrunners can take the credit for realizing this one.

Favorite death: Even leaving aside the Sept and related deaths there's a lot of good ones to choose from in S6. Ramsey is cathartic but too gory for me, Osha's was a clever callback but a little delayed, it's hard to pin down specific deaths when Daenerys incinerates the khals, and Arya only gets half credit for Walder Frey and his sons when she saves the rest of the house for the opening of S7. I'm thinking Hodor, not so much because I enjoy his character or the manner of his death but because it's a clever bit of playing with language (that must have been hell to render in other languages for dubbing) wrapped up in some entertainingly murky consent issues and some closed time loop weirdness. It's all very...extra? Is that the word for it?

Least favorite death: Offscreen deaths continue to be mostly letdowns, in this case Blackfish and the Waif. Way to botch the ending of Arya's already near-pointless Braavos arc, guys. Speaking of Arya, this spot goes to Lady Crane, whom the Waif somehow kills with a stool or something. It's a dumb way to send off an entertaining minor character.

#6 Season 8

I swear that I'm not putting S8 this high solely because of Jonmund kind of sort of happening. I've never been very interested in either of them and the sex would be far too bear-on-otter to suit my pornographic preferences, but even so the choice to close out the series with them is hilarious.

I really don't need to elaborate on why S8 is down here; everyone who's ever watched the show has done as much in the nearly two years since it wrapped up. I do however need to explain why I've ranked not one but two seasons below it. My biggest argument here is that I don't believe it's fair to critique S8 for problems it inherited from earlier seasons. A non-comprehensive list:

Mad Queen Daenerys: unevenly built up beginning from S1 and continuing in some form through every following season

The questionable racial optics of Dany's army: also seeded as early as S1 and solidified by S3 with the Slaver's Bay arc

Cersei only succeeding because she makes stupid decisions and then lucks out until she doesn't: apparent from S1, directly lampshaded by Tywin in S3, fully on display with the Faith Militant arc of S5-6

Jaime not getting a redemption arc or falling in love with Brienne: evident with his repeated returns to Cersei throughout the show as one of the most consistent elements of his character, particularly in S4 and during the siege of Riverrun in S6

Tyrion grabbing the idiot ball/becoming a flat audience surrogate mouthpiece: started in S5 around the time the showrunners ran out of book material for him and wanted to make him more of a PoV character and his arc less of a downward spiral, although I've seen arguments that changes from the books involving his Tysha story and Shae set him on this trajectory even earlier

The hardening of Sansa's character: began in earnest in S4 and never let up from there

The strange ordering of antagonists: set down by S7's equally strange plot structure - the Night King had to come first with that setup

CleganeBowl and the dumber twists: from what I've heard the whole thing of writing around fans on the internet guessing plot twists started pretty much when the book content ended, so S5-6 maybe?

Yes, there's plenty to criticize about S8 on its own merits...but just as much that was merely the writers doing what they could at that point with deeply flawed material.

Highlight: This may sound cheesy, but the better parts of S8 are almost all the cinematic ones, whether that's E2 being a bottle episode with tons of poignant character send-offs before the big battle, a handful of deaths with actual satisfying weight like Jorah's and Theon's, and an epilogue that incorporates both closure for individuals and the broader uncertainty of messy socio-political systems that GoT has always been known for before working its way back to the Starks at the very end for some tidy bookending. Even imperfect moments like the Lannister twins' death and the resolution of Sansa's character felt weighty and appropriate based on what had come before.

Favorite death: Forget about the audio commentary attempting to flatten Cersei's character; Cersei and Jaime Lannister have an excellent end. Cersei especially, as the scenes of her stumbling her way down into the catacombs as the Red Keep crashes down around her really show off how her world is abruptly falling apart and how she retreats into her own self-interest at the end in spite of her demise being at least partially of her own doing. There's some stupid moments associated with these scenes, like Jaime dueling Euron to the death and CleganeBowl, but I can excuse those when the twins end up dying exactly where you'd expect them to: in each other's arms, in a ruined monument to their family's grand ambitions that, like Casterly Rock itself, was taken from another family.

Least favorite death: Quite a few dumb ones in S8 have become forever infamous. Missandei sticks out, and for me Varys too just as much because of how the writing pushes him to do the dumbest thing he could possibly do purely for the sake of killing him off ten minutes into the penultimate episode. But no one belongs here more than Daenerys Targaryen, killed at the height of a rushed and uncertain villain reveal by a man who takes advantage of their romantic history (who is also her family, because Targaryens) to stab her in a moment of vulnerability - pretty much only because another man tells him that Daenerys is the final boss. Narratively speaking that might be the case, but even so this is the end result of multiple seasons of middling-to-bad buildup. Not even Drogon burning the symbolism can salvage that. Also Fire Emblem: Three Houses did this scene and did it better.

#7 Season 5

...Yeah, we're going to have to go there.

Sansa's rape is not a plot point that personally touches me much. It's terribly framed in the moment and the followup in later seasons is inconsistent at best, but it's not a kind of trauma I can relate to. On the other hand, in the very same episode Loras is tried and imprisoned for homosexuality, and Margery faces the same punishment for lying for her brother. That hits much closer to home, not just for the homophobia but also for the culture war undertones of the not!French Tyrells persecuted by a not!Anglo fanatic who later reveals himself to be the in-universe equivalent of a Protestant. The trial is just one part of Cersei's shortsighted scheming, just as Sansa being married off to Ramsey is part of Littlefinger's, and both of them get their comeuppance in the end...but it's unsettling all the same. I especially hate what the Faith Militant arc does to King's Landing in S5, swiftly converting it from my favorite setting in GoT to a tense theocratic nightmare that only remains interesting to me because Cersei is consistently awesome. What's more, pretty much everything about S5 that isn't viscerally uncomfortable is dragged out and dull instead: the Dorne arc, Daenerys's second season in Meereen, Arya in Braavos, Stannis and co. at Castle Black. The most any of these storylines can hope for is some kind of bombastic finale, and while several of them deliver it's not enough to make up for what comes before, or how disappointing everything here builds from S4. S4 has Oberyn, S5 has the Sand Snakes - I think that sums up the contrast well.

Highlight: S5 does get stronger near the end. As much as his character annoys me I did like the High Sparrow revealing his pseudo-Protestant bent to Cersei just before he imprisons her, and there's a cathartic rawness to Cersei's walk of atonement where you can both feel her pain and humiliation and understand that she's getting exactly what she deserves (and this is what leads into the climax of S6, so it deserves points just for that). The swiftness of Stannis's fall renders his death and that of his family a bit hollow, but it's brutal and final and fittingly ignominious for a character with such grand ambitions but so little relevance to the larger story. The fighting pits of Meereen sequence is cinematic if nothing else, and even the resolution to the Dorne arc salvages the whole thing a tiny bit by playing into the retributive cycles of vengeance idea (and Myrcella knows about the twincest and doesn't care, aww - no idea why that stuck with me, but it's cute all the same). Oh, and Hardhome...it's alright. Not great, not crap, but alright.

Favorite death: I don't know why, but Theon tossing Myranda to her death is always funny to me. Maybe because it's so unexpected?

Least favorite death: Arya's execution of Meryn Trant is meant to be another one of the season's big finale moments, but the scene is graphic and goes on forever and I can't help but be grossed out. This is different from, say, Shireen's death, which is supposed to be painful to witness.

#8 Season 7

I can't tell if S7's low ranking is as self-explanatory as S8's or not. At least one recent retrospective on GoT's ruined legacy I've come across outright asserts that S7 is judged less harshly in light of how bad S8 was. If it were not immediately obvious by where I've placed each of them, I don't share that opinion.

Because S7 is just a mess, and the drop-off in quality is so much more painful here than it is anywhere else in the series except maybe from S4 to S5 (and that's more about S4 being as good as it is). The pacing ramps up to uncomfortable levels to match the shortened seasons, the structure pivots awkwardly halfway through from Daenerys vs. Cersei to Jon/Dany caring about ice zombies, said pivot relies largely on characters (mostly Tyrion) making a series of catastrophically stupid tactical decisions, and very few of the smaller set pieces land with any real impact as the show's focus narrows to its endgame conflict. As with S6 there are still some good ideas, but they're botched in execution. The conflict between Sansa and Arya matches their characters, but the leadup to that conflict ending with Littlefinger's execution is missing some key steps. Daenerys's diverse armada pitted against Cersei weaponizing the xenophobia of the people of King's Landing could have been interesting, but there's little room to explore that when Cersei keeps winning only because Tyrion has such a firm grip on the idiot ball and when Euron gets so much screentime he barely warrants. Speaking of Tyrion's idiot ball, does anyone like the heist film-esque ice zombie retrieval plotline? Its stupidity is matched only by its utter futility, because Cersei isn't trustworthy and nobody seems to ever get that.

And how could I forget Sam's shit montage? Sums up S7 perfectly, really. To think that that is part of the only extended length of time the show ever spends in the Reach....

Highlight: A handful of character moments save this season from being irredeemable garbage. As you can guess from my screencap choice, Olenna's final scene is one of them, even if Highgarden itself is given insultingly short shrift. S7 also manages what I thought was previously impossible in that it makes me care somewhat about Ellaria Sand, courtesy of the awful death Cersei plans for her and her remaining daughter. The other Sand Snakes are killed with their own weapons, which shows off Euron's demented creativity if nothing else. I like the entertainingly twisted choice to cut the Jon/Dany sex scene with the reveal that they're related. And, uh...the Jonmund ship tease kind of makes the zombie retrieval team bearable? I'm really grasping at straws here.

Favorite death: It's more about her final dialogue with Jaime than her actual death, but again I'm going to have to highlight Olenna Tyrell here for lack of better options. She drops the bombshell about Joffrey that the audience figured out almost as soon as it happened but still, makes it plain what I've been saying about how Jaime's arc has never really been about redemption, and is just about the only person to ever call Cersei out for that whole mass murder thing. There's a reason "I want her to know it was me" became a meme format.

Least favorite death: There aren't any glaringly bad deaths in S7, just mediocre or unremarkable ones. I still think the decision to have Arya finish off House Frey in the season's opening rather than along with their father at the end of S6 was a strange one that doesn't add much of dramatic value.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 38

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 38: A Watched Songbird

You dreamt of nothing, thanks to whatever medication the nurse gave you. You woke up in a fog, rested, but in a fog. It took a few minutes for your eyes to adjust and focus on the room around you, like defrosting car windows in the winter. When you finally fully came to you could see the lieutenant was doing something on his data pad and you could see the outline of the general through the frosted glass wall.

Your voice was hoarse, “Good morning lieutenant.”

He looked up and rushed to get you the glass of water that was by your bedside. “Good morning ma’am. How are you feeling?” You could see the worry on his face, you wonder just how stressed out he has been. There were bags under his eyes, he probably didn’t get much sleep.

“Better now, but you look like you could use some coffee or some sleep.” You were a bit concerned.

“Do not worry about me, ma’am. I am just doing my duty.” You could tell he was nervous about the attention you were giving him.

Before you could say anything more to him Dr. Dabrini and the general came in. You could see the lieutenant dodge out of the way.

“How are you feeling this morning Lady Ren,” asked the doctor. The general stood by his side with his hands collapsed behind his back in his usual power position.

“As I was just telling the lieutenant, I am feeling better. When will I be discharged?” You looked between the two men who were standing over your feet.

“You should be able to leave with the general in a few moments. I just have a few more questions for you. First is how did you sleep?”

“I slept fine, I didn’t dream but I feel more rested than I have in days.”

“Good, good. Now I would like you to close your eyes for a few minutes.” You complied. You saw nothing but darkness. “What do you see?”

“I see nothing,” at first not understanding the question but then it hit you, “I see nothing.” There was a huge sense of relief that washed over you.

“Good, the medication worked. I will have you take another this morning. And you will continue on that regiment until this has been discussed further with the Supreme Leader.”

A nurse came in and handed you fewer pills than last night, probably missing the sleeping pill they gave you. You took them and thanked her. “So this medication does what exactly?”

“It is an anti-psychosis medication, don’t be alarmed. We do not believe you to be psychotic but it is the only thing that we believed might work until we get answers from the Supreme Leader.”

“So he knows what’s happening to me?”

“No, not yet. At least not the lights and the dreams. But I believe this might have something to do with the Force, and since no one else in the First Order can use the Force he is the one who will most likely be able to answer our questions.”

You thought about what he was saying. So the lights had something to do with the Force? What did that mean? Also, what did he know right now? What did the general tell him?  

“Is that everything?”

“Yes, I will release you into the general’s care. He and the lieutenant have been given strict orders to watch over you.” With that, the doctor left the room and you were alone with the two officers.

“M’lady would you like to return to your chambers to change and eat,” asked Hux.

“I think I would. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday and after that, I got sick twice, so breakfast is good.” You moved to get up, you were a bit uneasy on your legs, the sleeping pill still having a bit of an effect on you. The lieutenant was by your side instantly offering assistance which you gladly took.

You three made your way down the halls and to your chambers, “Everything has been put away m’lady. If you give me a moment I can have a female officer down here to assist you while you change or do whatever it is that you need to do,” said Hux typing something away on a small data pad.

“Why would I need someone to help me?”

“You are not to be left alone until the Supreme Leader has deemed it safe to do so. So unless you would like the lieutenant or myself to accompany you in the bathroom I believe it is better to have a female officer assist with this.”

“But I didn’t mean to do it, it was an accident.”

“Yes, but the Supreme Leader gave his orders.”

You were now very unhappy, so one mistake meant you were locked up even tighter. A bird in a cage with a tomcat both inside and out. All while having to wait for the master to come home and release you when he wanted you to sing like a ‘free’ bird.

The female officer came in and you both went to your bathroom. You took a shower, which seemed awkward for both of you, but you had to wash the remnants of last night off of your skin. You were quick to cover yourself once you were done and you both moved into your bedroom to grab your clothes, which were no longer in your closet. None of them, all of the shelves and hangars were bare. “Where are my clothes?”

You stepped out of your room carefully and into Kylo’s room. Luckily neither the lieutenant nor the general were there but one wrong look up the stairs they could see you in your towel. You hid behind the wall next to the stairs and called down, “why are my clothes not in my room?” You heard footsteps coming closer to the stairs. Both you and the female officer shared wide-eyed looks. “Stop, just tell me where my clothes are.” The footsteps ceased. You could see here making a shoo motion with her hands as she made eye contact with someone at the base of the stairs.

“M’lady the Supreme Leader has requested that your things be moved into his room for the time being. All of your things should be in the closets there,” yelled the general.

You and the female officer made quick work of trying to find your clothes in the long wall of closets. You opened one that revealed your new clothes, and another and another. Your old clothes were nowhere to be found. Instead of arguing right away, you thought it would be best just to get dressed and then ask questions later.

You picked out a beautiful shirtdress, that fit your waist perfectly and made you look as if you were bathing in a floral bouquet of pink roses. The officer found a nice pair of flats to go with. You went into Kylo’s bathroom to see a new shelf with all of the makeup you bought yesterday. If you were going to start dressing like an ‘empress’ you might as well go all out, just out of spite.

After you were finished you walked back down to the living room and the female officer took her leave. “I suppose I am now ready to join you for breakfast.”

“You are m’lady and might I say that you look wonderful in that dress,” said Hux.

“Thank you. Golden age of Hollywood inspired.” You all made your way to the dining room. “What can I get you both?”

“Tea would be fine for me,” said the general.

The lieutenant was still acting very timid. “Nothing for me ma’am.”

You looked at him with a sort of motherly scrutiny, “When is the last time you ate lieutenant?”

You could tell he did not want to answer, but he did, “yesterday at lunch ma’am.”

“You will eat what I order you and then you will go get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“But ma’am I need to stay with you.”

“Did the Supreme Leader give orders saying you did? That I need both you and the general looking out for me or did he say the general was to watch over my care?”

“He said that the general was to watch over your care.”

“Right, so this is an order from me. You will eat what I order you and then you will go get some rest. I’m pretty sure the general is more than capable of watching over me. I appreciate the concern, but you can’t help me if you don’t help yourself a little too.” You gave him a warm smile and moved on to ordering food.

Both of them worked on their data pads while waiting for the food and drinks to arrive, you took this as a moment to revel in the fact that there were no lights behind your eyes. You almost failed to open them when the food arrived. You were very happy watching the lieutenant eat, a bit of relief washed over you knowing that he was now in a bit better shape than when you first woke up.

Midway through your breakfast, the lieutenant started to brief you on your morning schedule. “This morning m’lady the general will be with you and has requested that you take your lessons here in your chambers this morning instead of this afternoon. The Supreme Leader will be back sometime after lunch and you will be attending the First Order High Command debriefing with him. He will then be joining you for dinner.”

“Thank you, lieutenant.”

“Ma’am if I am to go rest would you like me to send for another officer to take notes for you?”

The general answered for you, “That won’t be necessary lieutenant, what I have planned for her today isn’t something she needs notes on. We shall be watching videos and discussing them directly.”

The lieutenant nodded in response. Happily going back to eating his breakfast.

“Tell me general. When did we find out that the Supreme Leader would be returning,” you ask.

“Last night while you were asleep. I informed him of your situation and he decided to come back a day early. He said that he was finished with whatever it is that took him away, but he had initially planned to stay an extra day on that end of the galaxy. He made the choice to come back for your health and safety.”

“Did you inform him that I am fine now?”

“Yes, m’lady. But I would not hold your breath if you think that he is going to hold back on his feelings.  In our last communications with each other, he was not in the best of moods. I believe we might have to brace ourselves for one of his tirades.”

You could see the lieutenant visibly pallor. Whatever slightly relaxed state he was in a few minutes ago was now gone.

“Will this tirade be anything like what I witnessed at the White House?”

“No m’lady I do not believe it will. It will be worse, much worse. But we will only know when he gets here.”

Great, just great. What was worse then him choking someone with the Force? Would someone actually die? Would he take his anger out on you? You were angry at him too, you had a right to be. What happened last night was just an accident. If he would get angry at you for just an accident then he had another thing coming to him. You may not have the Force or his fancy lightsaber but that doesn’t mean you can’t get angry.

Wait.

Would he use his lightsaber on something when he was angry? Would he use it on someone? Is this what the general means by needing to ‘brace ourselves’?  

You weren’t ready for this.

At the same time, you were ready for this. It was his fault anyway. Keeping you locked in a cage like a little songbird. No, wait. Like a kitten trapped in a cage, only to be let out whenever your owner wanted to pet you or show you off. If he wanted a kitten you were going to show him your claws.