#and today i accidentally hurt someone and that sent me into a full spiral

[heartboreo]

[aidanchaser]

Waterloo Station

Several folks said, “I would love to see more of Regulus and Sirius shenanigans!” after Chapter 18. Well, lo and behold, I actually have a deleted bit of Chapter 18 showcasing just that. The second draft was from Sirius’ perspective, but since Sirius lent his voice to In Memoriam, and we’re about to hit a short run of non-Harry chapters, I brought the chapter back to Harry in the third draft. (the first draft was an entirely different Harry chapter about breaking James out of prison, but that got pushed back in favor of some character development; we’ll get back to it, I promise.)

So here’s a short bit, taken out of my scraps. It’s headed with “MY DARLING” because it is one of several darlings I have killed while writing Deathly Hallows, but it’s the only one to earn the all-caps title. Thanks to the magic of fanfic, I can still share this darling with you. (the alternate title for this chapter should be: Sirius Accidentally Outs Himself as a Furry)

Padfoot hated the city. It was loud and there were so many people, each with their own scents and emotions. He supposed he should count himself lucky Harry had bled so much, or the trail would have been harder to follow.

He recognized the wizards on the platform easily. Their attire of slacks combined with hoodies or rain slickers paired with thick rubber work boots marked them easily as incompetently dressed Ministry employees. Sirius supposed they were keeping an eye open for someone stupid enough to come to the platform in search of Harry, someone just like him.

The platform had been scrubbed clean, but Padfoot could still detect Harry’s scent through the bleach. He didn’t board the train that pulled into the station, not yet. He waited, sniffing the entrance of the car carefully. He didn’t smell Harry or bleach. So he sat back and waited. A few Muggles scratched his ears as they passed or before boarding the train. Sirius let them without protest. 

He had learned that Muggles, by and large, enjoyed dogs as long as those dogs were gentle, still, and quiet. And if he was anything else — too loud, too quick, or too threatening — they were eager to chase him out or worse, catch him. It was a lesson he had learned early in his life, long before he had become Padfoot; it was just an easier lesson to follow when he was Padfoot. Something about a thick coat of fur, the eyes and ears of a predator, and four paws to run with made him far more comfortable and settled in his own skin than being a young boy in the middle of a war ever had. 

Another train pulled in, and this one, too, didn’t smell of Harry, but the third one did. He followed the Muggles into the carriage, and noticed a small black shadow slip in after him. It hid under the seat, and Sirius pointedly ignored it. He took a post at the door and waited, ready to check each stop this train made until he found Harry.

Regulus had tried desperately to talk him out of this, but Sirius had ignored him. Between him, Lily, and Remus, Sirius was the only one who could track down Harry, and if he didn’t, Lily and Remus would. Lily was far more likely to be recognized on the platform than Padfoot was, making Sirius not only the safest choice, but the most efficient choice, given Padfoot’s hunting instincts.

The first stop didn’t have even a whiff of Harry, but the second one did, though it was no longer paired with bleach. Sirius could only surmise that Harry had healed any open wounds before exiting the train and he felt both relieved and proud. 

That relief vanished almost as soon as he stepped off of the train. This station was enormous. It wasn’t just another Underground station; it was the biggest train station in London. Crowds hurried past, chasing after trains. Others clustered around kiosks and maps. Sirius’ heart sank. Harry could have boarded a train to practically anywhere from here, even Paris. 

The small black shadow slunk out of the carriage behind him and slipped into a tiny space beneath a nearby bin. Padfoot put his wet nose to the ground and followed Harry’s faint scent to a ticket station. From there it was difficult to determine where to go next. He thought he had a faint trail of Harry’s blood but it was unusual, mixed with something else.

“Pardon me, sir,” a nearby Muggle said, “but you need to have your dog on a lead at all times —”

“Oh,” a man looked down at Padfoot. “He’s not my dog.”

Sirius decided to follow the scent of Harry’s blood. It led him out of the station and away from the Underground service workers. The last thing he needed was for a well-meaning Muggle to try to help him find his owner. The few times it had happened in the past, he had always had James to bail it out.

Sirius shook off the stab of grief that came with the thought. It was always easier to shake off grief as Padfoot, as if the same abilities that heightened his physical senses dulled the sharper edges of his hurt. Besides, he reminded himself, there was nothing he could do for James right now, not until they were able to find whatever Death Eater prison he was being held in — and they had to believe he was being held. What Sirius could do was find Harry.

Though it had been less than twenty-four hours since Harry had passed through here, London had a way of making people invisible, of burying passersby in the scent of automobile smog and endless eateries. Sirius had to work hard to discern the scent of Harry’s blood through it all, but he managed to follow the trail south for less than a mile until it disappeared into a tall, brown-brick residential building.

Padfoot sat down on the pavement and evaluated his options. It would not be hard to sniff out Harry, if he truly was in this building, but a large dog was likely to be chased out of a private building. As Sirius, it wouldn’t be hard to charm his way into the building, but it might be harder to find Harry.

Padfoot barked softly at the bushes. The black cat that had been tailing him crawled out. He knew Regulus had no interest in helping him, and had only come along as emergency backup in case of a duel, but Padfoot gestured his head towards the building anyway.

The small, black cat stared at Padfoot, then back up at the building. Reluctantly, he slipped up the stairs and into the building on the heels of an unsuspecting resident.

Padfoot sniffed the stone retaining wall. Plenty of people had passed through here, but he didn’t smell Harry, not exactly. He definitely smelled the blood trail he had been following, but that wasn’t the same thing as Harry’s scent. He wondered if it was Greyback who had come through here, but Sirius was fairly certain that he would recognize Greyback’s scent if he came across it.

He wondered, briefly, if Regulus had been right when he had said that Sirius was better off staying with Remus and Lily, rather than hunting down Harry. The full moon was just two days away, and he knew Remus was nervous. Brewing the Wolfsbane Potion had been impossible this week. They had been moving too frequently to get together the ingredients, and they still hadn’t figured out where Remus was going to transform. Lily would need to be somewhere safe but on hand in case of emergency, and they couldn’t be anywhere too open that might put others at risk. Tonks had, kindly, suggested hers and her mother’s home, but that had only sent Remus into another downward spiral. Remus was wary enough of transforming around people he loved when he had the Wolfsbane Potion to keep his mind. He was never going to allow himself to lose control with Tonks so close at hand.

Sirius tried to shake his worries off. Remus was tomorrow’s problem. Harry was today’s.

Regulus returned from his investigation surprisingly quickly. He hurried across the street and over a low wall, into some plants. When he stepped out as himself, Sirius reluctantly followed and also used the wall as cover to return to his human form.

“What did you find?” Sirius asked.

Regulus smoothed the front of his cloak. “Harry isn’t there.”

“I know.”

“Then why did we come here?”

Sirius swung his legs over the wall. “Because someone here has information about Harry. Did you follow the blood trail?”

“It’s going to be a dead end.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t use that word.”

“The trail is cold, Sirius. We have no way to know where Harry has gone.”

“Give me a flat number and I’ll go myself.”

Regulus hesitated, but Sirius knew he would give in. They were stubborn, the both of them, but Regulus had never built up the tolerance for conflict that Sirius had. Sirius could thrive in the center of chaos; he’d had to in order to survive. Regulus, however, invested too much effort in fighting chaos. It was always going to be a losing battle.

Regulus crossed the street, back to the building. He pointed his wand at the lock, but it didn’t budge.

Sirius looked over Regulus’ shoulder. “Oh, it’s one of those keypads? <i>Alohomora</i> is no good.” He dug his own wand out and aimed a hot white spark. It fizzed and sputtered and then the lock clicked.

Regulus pulled the door open. “Did you break it?”

Sirius shrugged. “They malfunction all the time. Keeps the Muggle maintenance men employed.”

Regulus led Sirius upstairs to the top floor and gestured at a door near the stairwell. “The trail leads here. But I didn’t see, hear, or smell anything to indicate that Harry might be here. I can’t imagine Harry would have stayed in London.”

“No, but if whoever lives here had Harry’s blood on them, they might be able to tell us something.”

“And if that person is a Death Eater?”

“Then I guess we’ll duel them.” Sirius knocked on the door.

“We aren’t even going to try to disguise ourselves?” Regulus hissed at him, but Sirius couldn’t answer, because the door opened.

The gentleman in the doorway wore a fine Muggle suit. His skin was dark and he had a neatly trimmed beard and shaved head. He looked about Sirius’ age, and was about as tall, though definitely rounder in both face and build.

He looked over the two of them and raised a thick eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Sirius held out his hand. “I hope so. My name’s Sirius.”

“Nigel Brooks,” he said, and shook Sirius’ hand warily. His eyes drifted over Sirius’ shoulder to Regulus, but Sirius had a feeling Regulus would not be keen on an introduction.

Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. “We’re trying to find someone, and we think you might have run into him.” The picture of Harry was from Remus’ wedding. He had folded it over so that Ron and Hermione were hidden, along with most of the movement in the picture. Harry still blinked and his smile moved slightly, but Sirius hoped the Muggle would just think it a trick of the light.

Brooks took the photo to examine it more closely, then shrugged. “Might’ve seen him around.” He looked Sirius and Regulus over again. “You don’t look like police.”

Sirius glanced down at his worn jeans and leather jacket. “Hardly,” he said. “I’m his godfather. His mother’s awfully worried. We’re just trying to get some information.”

Brooks returned the photograph. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Best of luck, though.”

He started to close the door, but Sirius wedged his foot in the door. “We know you saw him, and at the very least, got his blood on you. We’re just trying to find out where he might have gone. There are dangerous people after him.”

Nigel straightened, and Sirius recognized a familiar determination in his dark eyes. “If what you say is true, and if I really did run into a young man, injured and running for his life, then what makes you think I would tell the first strangers who knocked on my door anything about him?”

“We’re his family.”

“Family can’t be dangerous?” Brook’s voice was cold, and Sirius, while he appreciated the man’s desire to protect Harry, felt outmatched. He didn’t feel outmatched very often.

“His name is Harry,” Regulus said, “and all we want is to know that he’s alive. You don’t have to tell us where he went, just tell us that he’s safe.”

Brooks stared at Regulus for a moment, then opened the door so it was no longer pressing on Sirius’ foot. “He’s alive, as far as I know. There was a lot of blood, but his injuries weren’t as bad as they looked. I thought whoever was chasing him had torn his wrist open, but when he showed it to me, there wasn’t even a scratch. He refused to go to hospital, just said he wanted out of the city, so I put him on a train. That’s the last I saw of him.”

“Has anyone else come asking for him?”

“No. You’re the first.”

“Thank you for your help.” Regulus inclined his head. “Sirius, we’re done here.”

Sirius did not think they were done. He wanted to know exactly which train Harry had gotten on. But Regulus was already leaving.

“Reg — wait —” But Regulus did not wait. Sirius eyed Brooks, but he supposed Regulus was right. They weren’t going to get anything more out of this man.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Sirius —” Brooks hesitated, and Sirius waited, hopeful.

But Brooks gave them neither a train nor destination. Instead, he handed Sirius a small business card. “If you find him, I’d like to know he’s alright.”

Sirius looked down at the plain white card. It had the man’s name printed on it and the contact information for an art gallery. 

“I’d find him faster if you’d tell me more.”

“He told me he was going to find his aunt and uncle,” Brooks said. “If you’re really his family, it shouldn’t be hard for you to track them down.” And he closed the door.

Sirius walked away, more confused than when they had arrived. He met Regulus at the bottom of the stairs.

“Did he tell you anything?” Regulus asked.

Sirius handed Regulus the business card. “He said Harry went to stay with an aunt and uncle. Do you think he meant Tonks and Remus?”

“I suppose that would be a simple way to explain their relationship to a stranger. Why would Harry go to Remus?”

“Maybe a fight with Greyback scared some sense in him.” Sirius found himself hoping it was true rather than believing it was true. Harry had been pushing them away all summer, and Sirius thought one duel unlikely to have changed Harry’s mind. Harry had his mother’s stubbornness, after all. 

Regulus handed the card back to Sirius. “I suppose there’s nothing else to do. We’ll just have to trust this man Brooks’ word that Harry is safe.”

“We’re hardly done.” Sirius was already walking back to the station at a brisk pace. “Now we show Harry’s photograph on the platforms. We start with the line headed for Tonks, and pray he didn't actually board a train to Paris.”

An unusual anger sparked in Regulus’ cold gaze as he hurried after Sirius. Not that Regulus never got angry, but he usually tempered it so well. “Harry is wanted by some of the most dangerous people in the world and you think it's a good idea to flash his picture around to every blasted Muggle in London — you’re also wanted by those same people! You can't just spend a day on a platform where they're surely to be looking for Harry — it’s absurd!”

Regulus' general frown of displeasure twitched with his outburst. His nose scrunched the tiniest bit and his already thin lips seemed to disappear. He looked so much like Narcissa. Sirius looked away, wishing his brother could wear someone else’s face. He wished, more often than not, that he could wear someone else’s face, too. Perhaps that was just another reason it was so much easier to be Padfoot.

“We’ll wear disguises.” Sirius surprised himself with the “we.” He had never wanted Regulus to come along on this hunt in the first place, but suddenly he was not keen on Regulus leaving him to it alone. “Hell we could even pretend to be Hit Wizards, deputised with hunting Harry down, if any wizards question us.”

“But the Muggles, Sirius! You’ll have to Obliviate every single one of them that you talk to, or else the Death Eaters or Hit Wizards or Muggle-born Registration Commision or Snatchers or any other group of wizards that want you and I dead could interrogate them and track it back to us — or worse back to Harry.”

“That will take us forever —”

“Why can't you just let Harry go? You know he got away from Greyback. Brooks put him on a train, helped him, made sure he wasn’t injured, so he must be safe somewhere. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Not for me, and not for Lily nor Remus.” It wouldn’t be enough for James, either.

“You can't protect him from everything, Sirius. He’s seventeen now, and whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him —”

Anger flared hot and bright in Sirius' chest as he whirled on Regulus, and there was no Padfoot to soften the edges as he snarled Regulus words back at him. “‘Whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him’? Harry’s told us you're in on it so don't give me that hippogriff shit acting like you don't know. Like you're not keeping all the same secrets from us as Harry is. Like this is somehow less your fault, just because you slink away from arguments whenever you damn well please.”

Regulus’ temper faded from his face, replaced with an unusual, stricken expression that Sirius was not sure he had ever seen on his brother. Blacks felt many things, and usually felt them strongly, but fear? That wasn't something Sirius had seen in any of his cousins before, nor his brother.

But to Regulus’ credit, he did not transform into a cat and run away. He carefully schooled his expression back into its traditional calm and proud with a dash of disdainful form.

“I’ll help you find Harry,” he finally said in a quiet, almost apologetic voice. “But we Transfigure our disguises, no Polyjuice. It's too unreliable. And we Obliviate every Muggle we meet — don’t argue with me on this, Sirius! Yes, it will take longer, but it will keep Harry safer, and I trust that wherever he has run off to, he is indeed safe. We would have heard otherwise if he wasn't.”

Sirius took in several deep breaths to make sure his anger was cooled, at least enough that it would not attract the attention of those passing by them on the pavement, before speaking again. “Fine. Let’s do what we can today. And I want to put a word in the paper to Tonks, just in case he really did mean that he was on his way to her and Remus.”

“The paper? Sirius —”

“Not the <i>Prophet</i>. I’m not an idiot. Tonks, Remus, and I have a code we use for personals in the <i>Times</i>. Her idea. Said her dad used to use it in the first war to communicate with some of his Muggle-born friends, at first just after he and Andromeda eloped and had gone to ground to avoid her family, then as part of the war effort.”

Regulus shook his head. “It’s still risky —”

“It’s a war. There’s risk. Accept it and move on. The longer you whine about it, the longer nothing gets done.”

Regulus studied Sirius, and Sirius did not care for the intent look on Regulus’ face, almost like Regulus was trying to peer directly into his thoughts. It reminded him too much of their mother, trying to parse just how much trouble Sirius was in, just how much damage he had done.

But Regulus did not scold Sirius, nor criticise him. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “You're right.”

Had Sirius been in a slightly better mood, he might have had a joke ready, made Regulus repeat his apology. As it stood, Sirius had trouble accepting it at all. Perhaps it was no real wonder he and Regulus had grown so far apart. Even when one reached out, the other couldn't bother to reach back.

He zipped up his jacket, suddenly cold, though it was only the middle of the afternoon, and kicked his boots against a nearby wall. It didn't lessen his frustration. 

And after a full day walking up and down train platforms, talking to and Obliviating every Muggle they met, Sirius was no less frustrated. The task ahead of them was enormous, and with each passing day that left them with no leads, it seemed more and more futile.

But there was nothing else to do. Lily and Remus did their part connecting with the Order, hunting down rumors of sightings of Harry, while Regulus and Sirius plodded on through Muggle after Muggle and Memory Charm after Memory Charm.

It was two full moons more before, finally, a Muggle woman frowned as she looked at the photo.

“I think… Goodness it’s been a while, but I think I did see him. Or I saw a boy who looked like him. Had red hair. I thought it odd with his complexion, but it was a dark sort of red, I suppose. The glasses… I can’t remember if he was wearing them or not. He was a twitchy lad, though, rather unhappy face. Is he in some sort of trouble?”

“No,” Sirius said, though it was not exactly true. He spoke quickly, anxious to get every detail out of this woman. “I’m his godfather, just trying to track him down. Can you tell me where he went?”

She pursed her lips. “I think… it must have been the rail line that goes out to Portsmouth — yes, I was visiting my sister that day, and I remember he had a large pack. I thought he must be on his way home from a walking tour.”

Sirius could not fathom what might have attracted Harry to Portsmouth. He wondered if it had something to do with Dumbledore. Maybe Regulus would know, but Regulus said nothing, mere stood at Sirius’ side, waiting to Obliviate this poor woman as soon as she was done talking.

“Do you know where he got off the train?” Sirius asked.

She frowned and handed the photograph back to Sirius. “I don’t know… he tripped over my bag on his way out. I felt awful. It… oh! It was Guildford. Yes, I remember, because —”

“Thank you so much for your time,” Regulus interrupted. Then, her eyes glassed over. She blinked at Sirius and Regulus, slowly, uncertain.

“Er — can I help you?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” Sirius grunted, and as soon as she was gone, he whirled on Regulus. “She might have had more information!”

“We needed to know where Harry had gone. Now we know. What else could she have told us? It’s not as if she followed him off the train. Besides, Sirius, she saw Harry over a month ago. There’s no way Harry’s still in Guildford, no reason he would stay in one place for so long.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius lowered his voice and tried to keep the threatening tone out of it, but he found it difficult. “You don’t know of anything in Guildford that might keep him there? Nothing to do with Dumbledore or You-Know-Who?”

Regulus’ stare was even, but that didn’t tell Sirius much. “Nothing. And if you can’t think of anything that would keep him there, then all we can do is go down there and see if some other Muggle happens to remember him passing through months ago — there’s just no sense in it. We know he got away safely. Let that be enough.”

Sirius was no longer listening to Regulus. He had plucked a map from a kiosk and was staring at Guildford on the network of spider web lines spiraling out from Waterloo Station, trying to make sense of why it had appealed to Harry.

“I’m an idiot,” he finally said.

“That’s nothing new,” Regulus said.

“Brooks told us where he was going from the beginning and I was too stupid to understand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was going to see his aunt and uncle, is what Brooks said. Not Tonks and Remus — his mum’s sister. Her Muggle family.”

“Does Harry even know them?”

“He knows they’re in hiding, and he knows their house will be empty — bloody hell I can’t believe I’m that thick.” Sirius balled the map up in his fist.

“Should we tell Lily and Remus —”

“Let’s make sure he’s there before we get their hopes up.” Sirius fought down another grunt of frustration. He had not felt this stupid in a long time, but how was he supposed to connect Harry to Petunia and Vernon, whom Harry had met perhaps twice in his life? He did not even wait to slip away to a hidden corner of the platform to Disapparate. He turned on the spot, in the midst of a crowd of Muggles, ignoring all of Regulus’ protests, and disappeared with a crack.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 10

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 10

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Chloé felt that something was wrong. She knew that the drama would only start with the class kicked out. She tried to enjoy the evening and do what she did at all other galas: be a star. As the daughter of the mayor of Paris and a famous fashion icon, she attracted quite a bit of attention. Now that she was the only reliable source of information on Marinette and Hawkmoth-related stuff, she found herself in the center of attention. Someone even asked her about her time as Queen Bee. She loved it here!

She just finished a small talk with the wife of… someone important, when unmistakable sausage hair flashed in the crowd. She would recognize her anywhere. Lila was still at the gala. 

The blonde tried to find someone to tell it to, but she couldn’t do it fast enough. She saw her disappear into a corridor that led to the kitchen. Making a split-second decision, she followed her alone. On her way, she got a bright idea and sent the text to whoever she called last. There was no time to search through the contact list. It better be someone who can help. 

The doors to the kitchen were closed and inside buzzed with the work of several hired helpers. They were preparing for the midnight toast. There was no way Lie-la could hide there. The only other doors led to the servants’ staircase. 

“Ugh! The sacrifice I make for friendship.” She sighed before entering the tight passage. 

This led her to the second floor, where she found the doors already open. It led to a long corridor with several doors on the one side and large windows overlooking the back garden. She realized she was in the west wing, which was the second oldest part of the manor. 

“More creepy secret passageways…” She quickly checked her phone to see if somebody answered, but a crashing sound coming from one of the rooms got her attention. 

Slowly, she crept toward the only room with lights on. She managed to get a sneaky peek inside before something hit her in the back of her head and everything turned black. 

---------

“So… he really asked you out on the first day?” Allegra starred at Marinette in disbelief.

“Yeah. He was all shy and flustered, almost certain I would reject him.” She giggled. The two girls were standing on the sidelines while Jon got the boys to finally talk their differences out in a safe manner. 

“That guy? Flustered?” Allegra giggled. “I think not.”

“And you? I thought Damian had no friends? Well, Jon was more of a family friend from what I heard.” 

“My dad is the Gotham Mayor. Probably the only one who stayed in office longer than a week in the last decade.” 

“No way!” 

“Yes, way.” Allegra nodded. “I met Jon during the interview his mom was doing in Gotham for the Daily Planet. Then, we met at Gotham Academy. Damian was kinda just tagging along. And he still does. Well, I think he actually likes the occasional hanging out with us, but Claude disagrees.” She nodded toward the boys, who seemed to be coming their way. “It’s going to be nice to have a second girl in the pack.” 

“I should totally introduce you to Chloé.” Marinette giggled before walking to meet Damian half-way. 

“Tt. Felix is not his cousin.”

“And the floor is indeed made of floor.” Jon chuckled.

“I have the dusters…” He threatened, but his friend just laughed. 

“Can we dance?” Marinette asked fast. Truth to be told she was waiting for a chance for quite a while, but with the press and then the drama and all the people wishing them well. 

Nodding, he led them to the dancing floor and they joined many other couples. 

“I just hope I don’t fall over… Or step on…”

“If a man doesn’t come to this thing with reinforced shoes, it’s his fault.” Damian stopped her before she could spiral. Then, his voice softened. “There is nothing to worry about. The only important person today is already dancing with me and the rest can stuff it.” 

She blushed bright pink but didn’t respond. Instead, she hugged closer to his chest and allowed him to take the lead. The pair glided seamlessly through the dance floor, moving between other pairs and completely obvious to the stares they received. They melded in perfect harmony, losing the sense of time and space. 

Inside Marinette’s head, they were dancing between the stars, bathed in subtle light coming from nowhere and everywhere. In the distance, her imaginary eyes could’ve seen the comet passing by and the full moon glowing in the sky. The music seemed to be coming from everywhere and encompassing them in soothing tones. 

For Damian, they were the only constant in the sea of darkness. There was nothing to distract them from dancing. Even the music faded to the background when they moved in perfect harmony. The only source of light seemed to be Marinette. And even her glow was only an aura around her, not illuminating the rest of the place at first. In his imagination, everywhere they stepped, she would leave a small trail of light in the darkness. 

Finally, the music stopped. The couple didn’t notice at first until the applause finally broke to them. They both realized they were now in the center of the large circle where people watched. One old lady had a tear in her eye. Marinette blushed at the attention, but did her best not to appear shy. Damian shrugged. He was superior to them, so it was obvious their dance was the center of attention. He bowed slightly to the crowd while Marinette curtsied before rushing away from the prying eyes. 

“That was something…” Allegra smiled at her. “You two looked amazing. I really love how your dress reflected the light.” 

“Thanks. I ma… nevermind.” She stopped herself. She wanted to reveal she made it, but Allegra was still unknown to her and she wasn’t comfortable with revealing that she is MDC so soon. Even if Jon vouched for her. 

“Mari-bear!” Chloé rushed to the pair. “Quick! You need to come with me!” 

“What’s going on Chlo?” 

“It’s Lila!” The blonde motioned. The reaction was immediate. Marinette’s eyes narrowed and her whole body tensed. She nodded and followed the blonde, who led her toward the kitchen and servants’ staircase. 

A saner part of Marinette’s mind noted that Chloé had no problem with the tight passage used only by ‘peasants’ but the majority of her focused solely on stopping whatever evil scheme Lila concocted. 

On the second floor, the blonde led Marinette toward Bruce’s private office. Blood started to run cold in her veins. Did Rossi discover the entrance to the batcave? But no, Chloé would be calling the whole Batfam then. She was probably just scoping around and now awaits inside. Or maybe she just broke something in rage?

When they got close, Chloé opened the doors. Inside was in perfect order, except the chair was turned back. As it rotated slowly, Marinette managed to see disheveled blonde hair before pain exploded from the back of her head and she collapsed into the embrace of darkness. 

Nobody noticed one more person in the corridor when Marinette left the office alone.

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Damian was ‘enjoying’ the small talk with some rich snob, doing his best to appear as the perfect son and heir to Bruce Wayne. Inside, he was cursing Allegra for stealing his angel so close to midnight. He could see the waiters hired for the evening spreading the champagne already. 

“Hi. You’re Damian Wayne, right?” A girl asked him. Her blonde hair was let loose to form a large mane around her head. She looked maybe a year younger. What attracted attention were her eyes. One was bright pink and the other was brown to the point it was almost black. 

“Tt. I need to get a better mask.” 

“It’s the eyes. They give you away.” She smiled. 

“What is it?” He scoffed. “I’m looking for someone so if you excu…” 

She grabbed his wrist in a strong grip. “I’ve got a message for Damian Wayne. You will listen to what I have to say.” Her hand squeezed his wrist to the point it started to sting. “You’re far from victory yet.” 

She then let go of his hand and disappeared into the crowd. She was small enough for him not to be able to track her. He took a sip of his (non-alcoholic) champagne and returned to his search, promising to check on the cameras later. Finding his beloved was now even more important. 

Cursing under his breath, he turned. Marinette was just coming back from where Chloé dragged her. As soon as she saw him, she rushed toward him. A small smile ghosted his face when they met. Except something was wrong. She looked ashamed and scared. 

“Damian… I… I think… I must confess something…” She said loudly, attracting the crowd. “I’m so sorry. I really am! It… I never wanted to push it that far! I just wanted a bit of the fame…” Tears welled in her eyes.

“What are you…” He started. 

“They were right! I was just a filthy gold digger! But your family was so kind and you’re so precious and smart and I feel so bad for manipulating you! I can’t continue like that! It’s over between us. For your own good!” 

A sword was suddenly pressed into her neck to the point it drew blood. Nobody was sure where Damian got the sword , but by now the guests were used to the fact that he could get the sword at any point in the Manor.

“Who are you, harlot, and what did you do to my Angel?” He seethed. People around quickly made a space for them, not wanting to accidentally find themselves on the business end of the sword. 

“I’m sorry Damian. I know it must be hard but…” 

“You are definitely not Habibti and you can drop the act. She would not act like this. You don’t even know her well enough to realize that this gold digging crap is laughable,” he accused. His voice was full of cold fury. 

“You must let go. I… I really don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You can’t even tie someone correctly.” A new voice joined the discussion as another Marinette pushed her way through the crowd. “Or check if someone sees you change. You’re pretty amateurish for a villain.”

“But… but…! Impostor!” The Marinette at the end of the sword screamed. People were already too confused for that to have any real effect.

“Tt. You’re the only impostor.”

“She wants to get the hands on your fortune!” The girl tried. “I’m so sorry!” 

“For the love of god shut up. You sound like a broken record.” Marinette snapped. “And for your information, I don’t need to try and attach myself to someone. I have my own source of income.” Marinette hesitated. Even if the impostor, whoever they were, was dealt with, the media would still keep accusing her of trying to marry into wealth. And at school it would be even worse. She would not give Lila more lie material. “After all, I made my dress for today’s evening.”

Murmurs immediately broke. So far, everyone assumed that it was an MDC original. Very few smarter ones caught up on that, but the majority was scratching their heads. Slowly, the small intelligent percent explained to their oblivious colleagues what that meant. 

“Yes, I’m MDC. It used to stand for Marinette Dupain-Cheng before I switched to Marinette Désign et Création.” She gazed over the crowd. “You can ask uncle Jagged if you see him.” She grinned. “Or Tim Drake. He has a signed CD. In fact…” She pulled her phone and made a quick tweet about the Wayne Gala on her MDC account. 

“No…” The other Marinette starred in disbelief. 

“Yes. I wanted to keep it a secret until I graduate, but someone forced me to unmask a bit earlier…” She glared at the impostor. 

“No!” They screamed. Black bubbling energy covered them. Damian tried to stab with his sword and fell right through it, with his suit burning in several places. When it stabilized again, A teenager stood there. She looked mostly human, except her hair was fluorescent orange and her dress was torn in several places now. She had no accessories and her feet were bare. “You ruined everything! This was supposed to be my trip!” 

Marinette took a battle stance, mentally giving herself a pat on the back for making her dress combat-ready. She didn’t bring the rope dart this evening since it would clash with her look, but she did put a small, almost unnoticeable sheethe with a knife on her left thigh. She quickly drew the blade and got ready. 

“I will not be denied again!” The villain charged at Marinette. The girl tried to strike with her knife, but the blade broke on the first contact, shattering into small pieces that flew everywhere. Several cut her arm. In retaliation, the criminal delivered a punch that pushed all the air from her lungs and made her tumble. 

Impostor was just preparing to deliver a final strike when suddenly a blade cut off her right hand before being stabbed through her calf, making her fall one one knee and pinning her to the ground. 

Sabine was there, with fury on her face that would make demons run for cover and saints pray to God. 

“No one.” She delivered a spin-kick at the downed enemy’s head. She tumbled down and spread like a run-over frog “Hurts.” Before the villain could catch the second wind, she pulled the sword from her calf and stabbed it deep into her left palm, pinning her into the ground. There was no blood whatsoever. “My daughter.” She spat on the impostor and stepped on her head with enough strength to knock out any normal human. 

Just as her leg was supposed to give the villain a concussion, she turned into purple bubbling energy and moved. Sabine’s leg passed through the energy and her leg started to smoke a bit and turn red. 

“That hurt!” The villain screamed once she reformed, all wounds gone like they were never there. A purple butterfly-shaped mask appeared over her face and the few people that knew what happened in Paris gasped. “Ugh! Fine!” She tried to lunge at Marinette, but a chair smashed into her head and batted her away like a baseball ball. 

“Run!” Tom screamed at her daughter and charged with the chair. Marinette looked at her mother and Damian and all three nodded at the same time. Using the panic and people running away, they ducked into an empty corridor and locked the door. 

“Tikki! Spots on!”

“Plagg! Claws out!”

“Roaar! Prowl!”

The light of three transformations was blinding. When it died, Sabine looked over the couple and noticed that she was the only one that had an unchanged outfit. 

Damian’s outfit consisted of what were dark gray linen pants, a linen shirt with long sleeves and a hood with two folds on the top of his head that resembled cat ears. Over the shirt, he wore a black vest with dark-green finishes. On his left breast was a cat symbol. His forearms were wrapped with gray straps, over which he wore green armguards that reached a bit over the back of his hand. His dark-gray gloves had sharp claws at the end of each finger. His feet were covered with soft shoes that would make no sound as he moved. Behind him, a loose sash of gray imitated cat’s tail. The final touch was the black mask almost identical to what he wore as Robin, except the white eyes were green in this case. His baton was safely attached to his right thigh for easy access.

Marinette now wore a much more stealthy outfit. The core of it was black with dark-red accents. The boots that reached beyond mid-thigh had a single black spot on each vamp, knee, and at the top. There were dark red spots on each of her hips that doubled as some protection. Over her shoulders she wore a dark-red bolero with a black spot near her neck. The sleeves of her bolero ended just below her elbot and on each end was another black spot. She had an additional, very large black spot, on her back. A simple red mask covered her eyes. Her dark hair, which she wore loose these days, was tied into low twin ponytails with red ribbons. On each hand, she wore a red fingerless glove with a single spot on the wrists.

Sabine looked over the two of them. She immediately noted that Damian’s outfit was much more assassin-esque than the leather tights Chat Noir wore. Her daughter also looked more mature now. 

“What happened to your outfit?” She asked, curious why the change happened now. 

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are connected. Since I’ve got a new cat, I have a new outfit.” She smiled. 

“Black Cat. In the outfit, I’m Black Cat. Chat Noir was a bastard.”

“Um… Akuma?” Ladybug waved her hand toward the main room.

The three jumped out of the corridor to the pandemonium that was happening there.

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

Masterlist // Next

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

 Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.  

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #2: “BLANKING OUT!”

October, 1984

"Up Against the BLANK!”

Beware his crosshatching!

So the formation of the West Coast Avengers continues! I guess! It looks like Tigra, Wonder Man, and Iron Man stuck around at least long enough to be on this cover.

We’ll see if the prospect of being on a team led by Hawkeye manages to win them over.

So last time on West Coast Avengers: Hawkeye was sent by the Vision to create an All-New All-Different Avengers team on the West Coast. A kind of West Coast Avengers. Like the Avengers but in LA.

Vision sent out invites to Wonder Man, Tigra, and Rhodey Iron Man but didn’t tell them what they were being invited for. Leading to not only some hesitance to commit once they learned what was what but also Tigra’s friend the Shroud following her to the LA Avengers Compound because the vague invite worried Tigra’s other friend Jessica Drew. Phew.

The Shroud puts up such a great fight when the hypothetical West Coast Avengers attack him (assuming that some dude breaking in is up to something) that Hawkeye offers him the open spot on the team but Shroud turns it down.

By this point in the East Coast Avengers’ history, depending on where you count it starting, they either got punked by Loki or by a Space Phantom. So, the West Coast Avengers aren’t actually doing so bad, even though they’re not technically officially a team yet.

Its all a matter of perspective.

Huh. We’re like ten years too early for Iron Man to be trying to kill everyone.

To kinda spoil the game early, this is a training exercise.

Hawkeye is attempting to prove a point that Captain America told him “with the proper teamwork, even the strongest opponent can be beaten!”

It gets back to the Avengers’ whole Earth’s mightiest heroes banding together to fight the foes no single hero can overcome thing. It’s a sales pitch for why these reluctant West Coasts should Avenger.

And even given that Iron Man far outmuscles Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and Tigra, teamwork and skill does prove capable of bringing him down. Kinda.

Hawkeye uses some smokescreen arrows to try to cloud Iron Man’s vision but he has infrared lenses. He tries to tackle Tigra but she outmaneuvers him and jumps on his back. Distracting him so Mockingbird can bonk him in the head with her staves and Hawkeye can gum up Iron Man’s boot jets.

Its good teamwork but while Hawkeye is explaining that it’s good teamwork, Iron Man repulsors the ground and knocks the other three on their asses to demonstrate another important lesson.

Iron Man: “Never count your enemy out, until you’re sure he’s really out!”

Although. This WAS a training exercise.

While you raise a good point, Rhodey, surely you didn’t want them to break your armor or knock you out for a training exercise?

Anyway, after the exercise is over, Hawkeye tells Iron Man (James Rhodes) that it reminds him of when they used to go at it (back when Hawkeye was an accidental villain) and Rhodey Iron Man just awkwardly says that he’s glad they’re buds now. Because THIS IS EXACTLY WHY HE QUIT THE AVENGERS IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Having to awkwardly tip toe around not being the original guy!

But on the other hand, he liked working with the Avengers in Secret Wars, which made him reconsider the team thing. While he doesn’t want to lean on someone else’s reputation, he also doesn’t want to be treated like an amateur. So awkward it is.

Hawkeye tells Iron Man maybe don’t knock him on his ass so hard next time.

I do love Clint and Bobbi’s relationship. They’re delightful.

While Rhodey is rethinking his reluctance to Avenge, Tigra isn’t. This training exercise about how weaker heroes can team up to bring down a stronger opponent is not landing.

Tigra: I’ll bet Iron Man could have blown us away whenever he felt like it... He was probably just toying with us during the whole workout! I’m not anywhere near being in his league... Why did I let Hawkeye talk me into joining his new Avengers team?

There’s always one person on the Avengers whose whole thing is insecurity and the West Coast Avengers is practically full of them. Hawkeye, Wonder Man, Tigra have all served that role in the past. Mockingbird is worrying that she doesn’t belong.

I’d rather Tigra stuck with the insecurity rather than what she gets when West Coast Avengers gets an ongoing...

Anyway, over at Simon Williams, Wonder Stuntman’s house, he’s packing up his house to move to Avengers compound.

Since the house was prefab and pretty shoddily built, the whole wall swings up like a garage door so Simon can just pull all his possessions out and put them in a big crate.

Simon’s good stuntman pal Freddy asks if Simon is really going to go back to the superhero life.

Wonder Man: “Freddy, for good or bad, Wonder Man is what I am! It’s taken me awhile to become comfortable with that. But I finally have. And you know, I think being a stuntman these last few months helped! Doing stunt work day after day has really given me a sense of my own worth. You and the rest of the stunt crews helped me find a new life... I owe you a lot! But I also owe the Avengers! When Hawkeye offered me an active role in the Avengers new west coast expansion team, I surprised myself by signing on. I guess what I’m saying is that the Avengers is part of my life, too. And I found myself missing it more than I’d expected!”

Good for you, you waffling man. But you’d better be careful you don’t end up in a Hank Pym spiral where you bounce between your superhero and civilian lives and don’t find satisfaction in half assing either. Find yourself a good work life balance.

Anyway, Simon doesn’t plan to quit the stunt work. He’s going to try to juggle it and the Avengers.

Now that I’m not sure he’ll manage. Movies and super-heroics both have demanding schedules without set hours.

Simon and Freddy take a break to go buy more nails at the hardware store for Simon to hammer in with his bare hands. But on their way, they hear an alarm at the bank.

Crosshatch man from the cover is robbing the bank, just casually strolling out with a bag of money while bullets bounce off of him.

The Blank: “I have a gun too! And it doesn’t shoot blanks! Hah-haha-ha!!”

I’ve long held that the unspoken rule in comics book is that one of the first things someone shouts about you becomes your name.

Just ask poor Ben Grimm, the Thing.

So when a random person shouts that the bank robber is blank, the robber is like ‘huh, that’s catchy!’

Anyway, the robber confidently strolls out of the bank and right into Simon Wonder Man Williams.

The Blank shoots his gun at Simon and to his dismay finds out that he’s not the only one who bullets bounce off of.

Then Simon punches the guy twenty feet back INTO the bank.

The Blank woozily proclaims that Wonder Man can’t stop the Blank so Wonder Man just kinda picks him up and tucks him under arm. Although the Blank does manage to pistol whip the sunglasses right off of Simon’s face.

Doesn’t hurt him but it does freak everyone in the bank out.

Dunno if you remember but due to being reborn as an energy being, Simon’s eyes are red and full of kirby krackle. He can turn it off if he concentrates but he prefers to wear the glasses.

And while Simon is telling the people in the bank that there’s no need to panic on his account, the Blank slips right out of his grip and jumps through the window.

When Simon comes out to the street, he finds that the Blank has somehow managed to disappear into the crowd, despite being a screentone man.

Probably because the Blank just turned the effect off and pretended to be a Perfectly Normal Man on the Street.

Sneaky.

The guy returns to his apartment and yuks it up at the news report about him making a clean getaway, police baffled.

The Blank: “After a lifetime of bad breaks, Lady Luck has finally smiled on me! Hah-ha! And to think I owe it to lousy bus service...”

So this origin is a lot. And its amazing.

In the Blank’s flashback, he’s waiting at the bus stop for a late bus when an ex-employee of Stark International who quit when Stane took over the company shows up and starts complaining about the bus service. And then smoothly shifts to complaining about his old job.

Very annoyed scientist: “If it’s not one thing it’s another! But it’s no wonder the world’s in the shape it’s in... Not with the quality of management today! They’re idiots... all idiots!”

He tells this random guy he doesn’t know that when he quit, he took his newest invention with him.

Very annoyed scientist: “I put too much work into my brainchild to let that leech Stane get it! I’m going into business for myself!”

And then, as he’s boasting that he’ll be rich enough to buy and sell Stane in a year, the very annoyed scientist walks into the street without looking and gets hit by a car.

The very annoyed scientist’s briefcase lands right at the pre-Blank’s feet who definitely doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. So he took it home and after a few months figured out how to operate the invention: a slippery force-field.

Back in the present, he charges the force field belt up and then heads off after a big score. Not noticing a man shaped cloud of energy coming out of the charger pleading for more energy.

Huh.

Weird.

Over at Avengers Compound, the West Coast Avengers are assembled. Hawkeye has gotten the go-ahead of the LAPD to take this Blank case but Wonder Man insists that the Avengers can find him but he’s going to make the collar.

Yup, Simon has gotten a bug in his collar about letting the guy get away.

Wonder Man: “I had him in my hands, and he slipped right through them! What good am I to the Avengers if I can’t handle one gimmicky bank robber by myself?”

Hawkeye: “No good at all, if you worry more about personal performance than you do about how you work as part of this team! What do you want to do, search all of Greater L.A. on your own? That’s crazy!”

Geez, Wonder Man. That’s how gimmick criminals are supposed to work. Its not a gimmick if you beat it in the first encounter. The gimmick trips you up at the beginning of the story so you look like a smarty for figuring it out for the resolution.

The other Avengers chime in a plan divide the city into sections and each search that section. And whoever finds him will call the others.

Wonder Man admits that the plan makes a lot of sense and storms off in a fit of ‘WHAT A REASONABLE SUGGESTION, GOODNIGHT.’

Mockingbird: “Well, hotshot, you just weathered your first leadership crisis. Why the thoughtful look?”

Hawkeye: “I was just remembering how I used to be the one who always blew his stack. Honey, all of a sudden I feel old... real old!”

Hah!

You’ve wanted this for years Hawkeye. AND you’ve built up a lot of lets say debt with the universe by being a jerk about it at times.

Although, Wonder Man isn’t really a great Hawkeye. He’s pretty mellow most of the time. Of the people I expected to get a random obsession with a not very dangerous criminal, it wasn’t Wonder Man.

He has always had a streak of insecurity (which is the secret ingredient when making a Hawkeye) and not being able to stop this guy right when he was feeling good and ready to superhero again. A real situational case.

But Tigra is the one feeling the insecurity the hardest so I’m afraid you’ll need another character beat, Simon. Hothead is available.

So the West Coast Avengers split up and patrol different parts of the urban sprawl. Tigra lurks the rooftops of Chinatown, Iron Man scans the area around the Santa Monica Mountains, Hawkeye flies above the high-rises of Marina Del Rey on his skycycle, Mockingbird cruises L.A.’s freeways in her custom pink convertible, Wonder Man hangs out on the L.A. City Hall in the downtown searching by binoculars, and I learn what the different bits of L.A. are.

Productive night for everyone.

But over in Inglewood, the Blank prepares for his Big Job.

He’s going to heist a Wells Fargo armored car.

Wait, would an armored car be a bigger heist than robbing an actual bank??

And if you somehow got the idea that the Blank is a criminal mastermind, he’s not. The armored car guards spot him coming and just decide to take off when a screentoned man starts running at them.

The Blank shoots one of the guards so he doesn’t manage to lock the rear of the money car but the other guard is locked up tight in the front and refuses to stop even when the Blank is threatening to kill his partner.

Wow. Guess other people’s money is more important to the guy than his co-worker’s life.

Since the guy tells the Blank that he’s driving the armored car right to the nearest police station, the Blank just grabs as much money as he can carry. Then he jumps out the back and slides to a stop on his belly like a penguin.

What a useful force field.

But the Blank’s bad night gets worse because then Mockingbird, Hawkeye, and Iron Man all show up, alerted by the police report.

The Blank at least has a realistic view of his capabilities. In that he’s not the guy that thinks a simple gimmick will let him start taking over the world. He just wants to rob a few banks and armored cars. And he does not want to fight the Avengers!

Especially not Iron Man!

Iron Man’s armor has all kinds of stuff in it and he might figure out a way through the force field!

So the guy decides to tackle some gas pumps.

Which naturally causes an enormous fire.

Not a bad plan, really. The explosion will launch the Blank from the scene with the force field keeping him safe and the heroes will stop to save lives as heroes tend to do.

While Hawkeye and Mockingbird help the gas station employees away from the fire, Iron man picks up a dump truck full of sand and puts out the fire.

Wonder Man and Tigra arrive as he’s doing that and Hawkeye has to tell Simon that the Blank got away or exploded.

Simon actually takes it pretty chill, just betting that no way a tough customer like the Blank died in the explosion.

And he’s right. Although the guy isn’t really a tough customer.

Actually, he’s planning on skipping town.

Avengers heat is too much heat for him. Plus, yeah, the force field protected him from the explosion but he was blown three blocks away and the impact of landing knocked him silly for five minutes and he was terrified he’d be caught anyway. Plus, he lost all that sweet Wells Fargo money.

So he’s going to take the bank robbery money from the morning and move somewhere with fewer superheroes.

He’s just gonna charge the force field for the road and- whoa dang a whole ass man popped out of thin air.

And its Graviton??

What were you doing in thin air, Graviton?

The Blank assumes this guy - wearing a costume and a cape - why he’s gotta be a superhero! And he immediately surrenders! He’ll return the money, turn over the force field device, go to jail, just don’t make him deal with those Avengers again!

Graviton is like hey buddy, I’m not with the Avengers and if you’re skipping town because of them, don’t bother. “Help me, and you’ll never have to worry about Avengers again!”

Ruh roh.

Now Graviton is, historically, kind of a dingus considering he’s a mad scientist, but he is powerful enough that he soloed a pretty powerful Avengers roster which had Iron Man, Thor, Wonder Man, and Vision.

The West Coast Avengers has Iron Man and Wonder Man but also has the more street level Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and Tigra. They don’t have the do-anything bullshit of Scarlet Witch or Vision’s robot brain or Cap’s strategy. Or whatever esoteric power the wild card Avenger of the era has like Captain Marvel’s command of the electromagnetic spectrum, Starfox’s PLEASURE POWERS or Moondragon’s psychic powers.

If Graviton decides to set up in L.A., then the newly formed West Coast Avengers could be in big trouble.

Maybe even two issues worth of trouble!

... What? This is a miniseries! There’s only so much he’s going to be able to do in the time left!

Follow @essential-avengers​ because you want to see what happens next, probably? Also, like and reblog because you want to?

[stalecrackers]

I've had a god damned day. When I woke up this morning, I would have sworn that I was human being. That I fucking mattered. But so many things have pointed to the contrary.

After three months of constantly trying to get a proper physical therapy referral, including three doctor visits and countless phone calls, I was finally able to begin treatment for my back/spine. It took ages to begin treatment for anything, because the doctor just wouldn't send the referral. Then sent it to the wrong place. Then sent it in complete. Then sent it to the wrong place. Then incomplete, then to the wrong place again, and then finally, the proper referral. I overheard my physical therapist talking to her boss during my treatment this morning. Apparently, the doctor never signed any of the three forms that were required to have his signature, in order for my insurance to process the claims. Bearing in mind I'm being seen on a financial hardship basis, so the remainder of my cost is waived. Apparently my insurance enjoys labeling things as a shared payment, and not a co-pay...as all of my out of pocket co-pays have been met. Well, I joined the conversation, and said I'd been eavesdropping, and that I actually had my supposed follow up to see how physical therapy was going, right afterwards, before work. I offered to deliver the paperwork, and literally not leave until he signed it, then deliver it back. So, they printed it off, and I was told that it could possibly be my last session, even though I've only had three treatments for my back, haven't yet had my neck re-evaluation, and am still severely struggling with my hands. Because my doctor wouldn't return faxes. Won't bother.

So, I get to the god damned appointment, and the mother fucker walks in and fucking introduces himself. I didn't hesitate even a moment to call him out on it. I wasn't rude. Just straight forward and factual. He seemed a little flustered, and then said he did remember me after all, but he just sees a lot of patients. We discussed that I'd made progress, but was still having issues, and that I'd only had three treatments so far for my back, because the referral hadn't been sent. Again. Factual. Not rude. He asked if there was anything else of concern. So, I said yes, actually. I needed an updated std screening, and that I prefer to be responsible and get them every six months. He said he doesn't like to do the tests just to do them. I restated the question, saying I needed the test, as the person I'd been seeing had gotten someone else pregnant, and I'd recently started having pain during sex. He said he doesn't like to do the tests just to do them, and that I probably needed more lubricant. I just stared and said Ok. After hesitating, I said “Not trying to be rude, but is there a reason to not do the test?” He said he doesn't like to do the tests just to do them, and that if I started having any issues, like vaginal discharge, he could see me in a month and do the tests then. I restated that I was having pain during intercourse and that I'd like to get the test done. He said “well, I could take a urine sample”, to test for gonorrhea/basic bacterial things. I said Ok. As soon as he left and the door closed, the student who'd been observing the appointment and he erupted into a slightly hushed bickering session. I couldn't make out what they were saying. The nurse who'd initially taken my vitals and information came back in to give me an updated tetanus shot and said she'd collect my urine sample. I asked if it was for the std test, to verify. She said yes, it was. I said it was extremely bizarre, that I'd asked the doctor to do an std screening, as sex was painful and the person I was seeing got someone else pregnant. I told her that I had to twist his arm to even get the urine test done. She seemed sweet and professional, and said it might usually be another appointment and a physical exam. I said he wanted me to wait a month to get it done, even though I'm having pain now. That I wanted to be responsible and be sure I don't have anything, so I don't accidentally spread stuff to people. She mentioned it might be something my obgyn might need to do, and suggested an updated pap test as well. I told her I'd already had my female exam for the year. She was polite, told me to relax my arm muscle so I'd be less sore from the tetanus shot in the morning, and later helped me open the plastic bag the urine sample bottle was contained in, as my hands were not cooperating on opening it. When I leave, she sweetly tells me I can go to the desk and schedule either my one or two month follow up. I scheduled my two month follow up, to track the course of my physical therapy. I'd decided to go to a walk in clinic to get the rest of my std screening done. I already had a veterinary appointment, and two appointments of my own scheduled for the following day, but I'd decided I'd have to squeeze in a walk in clinics, since he'd refused to do the tests.

So, I leave the place, and on my two fucking minute drive home, I get a call from a number I don't recognize. I answer. Immediately recognize the doctor's voice. He asks if it's ' miss (redacted)', I reply with 'yes sir'. He said, since we're doing these tests, I wondered if you'd like to actually bundle the syphilis and HIV tests in with it?” I reply with “yeah, that would be good.” He went on to tell me that his supervisor told him he apparently could do the std screening. He said to come in whenever was most convenient to me, and tell them I'm there for lab work, and that they'd take my blood. I asked if it was fine if I came in the morning. He said yes that would be good.

That mother fucker. One, or both of the women involved absolutely stood up for me afterwards. So, that's a win. I don't know if it was the student who erupted into an argument with him. Or the nurse who told me I could schedule my one or two month follow up, if I'd like, but one of them said something.

During all of this, I'd been offered a full time position, with benefits, for $35,000-$45,000 a year, in graphic design. But, the only catch was, the job is within 200 yards of my former stalker's house. The man who assaulted me, on more than one occasion. The hideous coward whose pupils I watched dilate as I pleaded with him that he was hurting me. Over and over again. The sorry sack of shit who took away my dexterity. My art. The very core of my identity. The person who ruptured my disc in my neck, causing the most excruciating years of my life. Whose laughable actions lead up to having a TIA, ungodly severe migraines, and the feeling of literal strings of fire being pulled through my arm and out the tips of my fingers. Who paralyzed my hand. Who made me believe I'd never be able to even draw a straight line again, or ever escape the most excruciating pain imaginable. The person who told people I was over reacting and making things seem worse than they were, after he'd twisted and snapped my neck two months after the spinal surgery to correct the injury he'd caused in the first place. The person who has made me previously contemplate the exact and vivid details of what it would be like to put a bullet through someone's skull. The reason I can't be touched in the same ways as I used to, and the reason I have to warn my dates how to avoid triggering my ptsd. The person whose actions lead to me having to leave my job and take time on disability. The reason I couldn't create art for four years of my adult life. The person who alienated me from my social group. Who convinced me I was broken and would never be lovable. Whose treatment sent me into downward spirals of self injury, substance abuse, and three hospitalizations. The reason I have tattoos on my forearm, cover scars created when testing the sharpness of a blade before I planned to lay my veins open.

The person offering me the job claims he didn't realize any of this transpired, though he doesn't seem adamant about no longer associating with him. Apparently, he told my friend that he's tried contacting me over the years and that he doesn't understand why I ignore him and won't talk to him, and says he still misses me. Almost six years after rupturing my disc and effectively ruining my life...paralyzing my hand, creating years of almost no use after spine surgery because of re-injury, and having to go through the process of relearning to individually move my fingers... after all of this...He misses me. Cute.

I would obviously get a restraining order if he ever contacts me again. The statute of limitations is up, and the lawyers I consulted with wouldn't take on a case with him. I waited too long. I was too emotionally vulnerable to get the police involved after he hung me, or after he forced my head to the left and upwards, creating a deafening pop and a shock wave down each side of my incision. I was too emotionally vulnerable, after weeks of barely being able to get out of bed, my head drooping to the side, and struggling to teach myself to do all of my self care left handed. After being forced to very effectively become ambidextrous. After having to be spoon fed, because I couldn't lift soup to my mouth. After spending so many weeks, day in and day out, laying in bed, struggling to roll in the correct manner in order to get up to use the restroom as my head drooped and my hand was useless. After all of the times I've spent, afraid of going to sleep, because I knew I'd have to start all over again with the pain that I cannot even now fully comprehend. The reason that, even today, I can only sleep in very specific positions, with a special pillow that costs $125. The reason that my muscles are still so atrophied that I am barely able to carry out basic tasks, spent several weeks in physical therapy before I could properly resume basic household chores, because I finally started a job. An attempt to restart my life. Carrying out basic work tasks forfeits my art. My daily tasks. Weeks of extensive physical therapy has gotten me to the point that I'm sweeping and mopping my home again, and not struggling as much to cook my meals. When I give in to my desire to create, I suffer substantially at work. Shattering pain spreads through my hands and fingers. Every single day I have to spend 1-2 hours when I first wake up to do a body awareness and mindfulness meditation. To tell myself that I am worth the basic commodities of life. To check in on my pain levels, and to stretch my muscles in my neck, back, and hands. My back suffers extensively, as I put strain on it to avoid further injuring the herniated disc from the assault that occurred after spinal surgery. My hands suffer from years of under use. My neck suffers from herniation, bone spurs, permanent arthritis caused from the first assault and the surgery, and simply from the trauma of being so severely injured and being so systematically emotionally traumatized. This “person” misses me.

I obviously cannot take a job, where I will live in fear of this person. Spend every day scrambling to and from my car, in fear that if I loiter too long, I might be seen. Might be discovered. I cannot have another job that is jeopardized by this person, where I actively need to involve the police and file a restraining order. I might be able to afford the dental care that I need, for the tooth I recently broke, likely from clenching my teeth from stress. And I might be able to pay for the upcoming eye exams to deal with the retinal holes and 30 flashes of light I see a day in my right eye. I might be able to move out of section 8 housing, where I automatically jump to the floor any time I hear a loud sound, in anticipation of another shooting. I might be able to afford my own groceries, without having to avoid certain stores because of the disgust upon being presented with an EBT card. I might be able to afford my arthritis medicine, and not have to order it from a foreign pharmacy. I might be able to afford to see a doctor that doesn't make me feel like a god damned mangy mutt, waiting in a run at the pound to see if I make it off the euthanasia list within the next month before my fleas get treated. Perhaps I'd be able to see a doctor that made me feel like a god damned human being, even. If I got extremely lucky. Not one who offers to double my anti-depressant, and refuses to do an std screening.

I scanned a copy of the reports from physical therapy. My hands were rated as a 72% disability, and my back was 50%, apparently. I am keeping a copy for my own records, as everyone is god damned incompetent, and I have to scratch and claw my way into a minimal existence.

When I finally got to work, three hours and four minutes after originally scheduled, my coworker was angry. He yelled at me because I asked him to keep a look out for some black ear buds that I'd dropped on the floor some time during the week. He then proceeded to blare screaming guitar music and make pottery. A strange, angry, and entitled combination. The temperature in the office was 78. The main studio was 91. The chemical room was 93 or 94, and the kiln room where I was doing most of my work was well into the 100's. I kept having to take breaks to cool down and to put ice on my hands and wrists and shattering pains shot through both hands and wrists. I even temporarily draped myself into the freezer, when I was getting ice out. The small part of the building that has air conditioning, I turned down to 68 degrees. I sat in one of the tattered cushioned chairs. I've gotten past my panic related to sitting in at office chair, as that's where I was sitting when my second neck injury occurred. That was something I discussed extensively in therapy. I felt the sweat trickle thickly down my back, squeezing between my skin and my tightly cinched back brace. The air started to chill my skin. I momentarily felt a little too cool, until the sweat dissipated, leaving me feeling somewhat comfortable. I wanted to work on some of the class demos I created last Monday. Trim them before they became too dry. Sacrifice my dexterity, and fight with my numb finger tips to create something that might, if I'm lucky, actually get me into a graduate program that would allow me to get the fuck out of the miserable stagnation. Something to challenge my mind and further my own art. But, I knew if I did, I would get bitched out by my boss, scolded and reprimanded like a naughty child, and told to create hideous phallic slab vases, even though they hurt my hands and wrists to create. She has made three. I've made 14. When she asked me to make more the other night, I said I would assemble them if she made the slabs. She said “ME?! You want me to help you?” I blandly replied yes, I did want her to help me, as the process injures my wrists, hands, and neck. My elderly coworker jumped in and offered to help. He's very kind, and I think he wanted to divert potential rising conflict.

So, instead of working on my own stuff, and being reprimanded for doing so, I just sat and stared into space. Tired, weak, exhausted, dejected, and fairly discouraged. A kind yoga teacher massaged my arms and hands for me, because she saw I was icing my wrists. Kindness always surprises me, and I find myself thanking people multiple times. It leaves me with a strange feeling. Nurturing isn't something I'm accustomed to accepting.

I flipped through my phone so much while staring into the void today that my battery almost died. The person I spent time with last night seems to have disappeared, and the person who seems most interested in dating me, I automatically fear will hurt me physically somehow, so I avoid carving out the time to spend. I apparently associate sweetness or tenderness with physical danger. Lines start to blur and I don't know whether I'm sensing a “red flag” or I'm so intrinsically programmed to think that if someone's interested in me, they're surely going to stalk, assault, and force themselves on me.

It's late, I'm tired, I'm in pain from typing. My hand is numb and tingly, and swollen and achy. I have to get up super early so I can take my cat in for a surgery I'm going to spend the next two months paying off. So, I have to say, again, it's been a god damned day. I'm just overwhelming relieved that my boss has put in her notice. Maybe, just maybe, I can get her old position, and get benefits and get out of the ghetto, and get things up to basic safety standards so my eyes don't burn from surfer dioxide. A thing that simply got a “huh” from my doctor, when mentioned. “Doctor”, I should say. He doesn't take me at all seriously, because I'm a female with ptsd. Mental health struggles mean you don't matter, within the medical field. It's been a mother fucking, god damned day. Good night.

[holeinotomemind]

MLQC Fanfic: Hearts of Storm - Ch 1 - A New Mission

WARNING: NSFW/18+ fic. No smut in this chapter, but eventual smut, dub/non-con, eventual 3P, spoilers, long dragged out fic and angst. Not morally correct. Turn away if this is not your thing. Pairing: Shaw x MC, Gavin x MC, Shaw x MC x Gavin AO3 Link: [here] Summary: Thrust into a world where her friends no longer remembered her, Yui must navigate the familiar yet foreign Loveland City while she battles her sorrows of not having Gavin by her side. As the only person who remembers her, the bratty Shaw forced his way into her heart, becoming the light in her seemingly endless darkness. But when Gavin regains his memories of her, how must she face him with her newfound feelings for Shaw? Will things returning to normal thrust her life into even more chaos? Notes: [See full notes on AO3] Special thanks to Lutz, Sonicaj and Kinako for beta-ing. EXTREME SPOILER ALERT. Follows some canon events, but order and duration are changed and rearranged.

She followed him again today. Yui had been abusing her premonition evol these days, making accidental brushes against strangers whenever she can.

She would bump into as many passengers on the bus as she could without causing a scene, brushed her hand against the coffee shop staff as he handed her the coffee, even went out of her way to pet every dog in the park that would allow her to do so without biting her hand off.

She was being obsessive, she knew that. But that was the only way.

The only way she could try to catch a glimpse of him. Of her Gavin.

Each and every time she touched someone, there was a chance for her to see a vision. And for every vision she saw, there was a chance for it to involve the military.

And every time the military was involved, there was a chance that Gavin would be there, so she could go and try to catch a glimpse of him.

She didn't care if what she was doing was unethical, if every single vision she saw weighed on her soul, if arriving at every single possible incident meant risking her life. If she could see him, even for one single second, it would be worth it, even if he never saw her.

In fact, it was probably better if he never saw her. Otherwise, he would definitely have suspected her of being a spy again and he would have treated her the way he did last time.

She couldn't forget how cold his eyes were the last time they met, when he shoved her against the wall and placed those handcuffs on her. She could still remember the feeling of those cold metal digging into the delicate flesh on her skin.

She had never seen him look at her with so little trust in his eyes. Not when he was helping her reach the poetry volumes on the tall library bookshelves during high school and definitely not after they reunited when he transferred back to Loveland City as a police officer.

So, yes. It was for the best that he did not see her. At least that way, she could still imagine.

Imagine nothing had changed. Imagine he was only out on one of those missions where he could not contact her. Imagine that he would show up at her window some time tonight, asking her if she wants to go stargazing with him.

But she knew this illusion wouldn't last long. So far, her visions had only been of sightings of military investigations and other successful operations. But she knew that sooner or later she would see something bad, something preventable and she would have to try to intervene.

And then, she would have to stare into those cold distrustful eyes again. She would be forced to face reality.

The reality of Gavin no longer being hers. The reality of Gavin not knowing her as if she never existed in this dimension.

It hurt to remember how he questioned her intentions towards him. It hurt to tell him that he was her senpai and he barely believed her.

So she tried to forget reality, tried to imagine they were still living in their original dimension, where his eyes lit up every time he saw her. Where he touched her with so much gentleness that it made her want to cry. Where he would blush every time she mustered up the courage to tell him how much she loved him.

She knew she was being willfully in denial, but if that could stop the hurt in her chest for just one minute, she would gladly do so.

Yui turned her head up to the sky as she heard the sound of the blade of a helicopter closing in. Her hands pressed against the shop window of the cafe where she had been sitting in for the last three hours, waiting for this very moment.

As the noise grew louder and louder, the military chopper came into view. She held her breath, eyes glued to it as it hovered over the park a block away from the coffee shop.

The door slid open and a tall figure in dark military uniform came into view. His brown hair flying every which direction as the strong wind blew around him.

She watched as he quickly surveyed the ground, preparing to jump out of the helicopter.

Yui opened her mouth to silently mutter, "You look well today. Stay safe, Gavin. I miss you." And for that brief moment, her heart stopped aching.

He was gone from her line of sight the next moment, having jumped out and began to fly towards his destination.

She sat back in her chair, closed her eyes and convinced herself that was enough. Enough to support her through the next few days or weeks without spiraling into the endless abyss in her mind that was constantly threatening to drag her in ever since she came to this dimension.

She could now function until the next time she saw him again. And she was determined to function through this. Too much was at stake otherwise.

Black Swan was still scheming to turn everyone into an evolver, while non-evolvers were banding together to wage war against those with evol abilities.

She could not afford to sit back and wither away while watching the world fall apart. She had come too far to give up now, regardless of how much she wanted to curl up in a ball at the loss of everything and everyone important in her life.

It was the least she could do, when Gavin worked so hard to protect everyone, whether in this dimension or the last.

The buzzing sound of her phone brought her back from her thoughts.

"Hello, Shaw." She answered the phone without even glancing at the caller ID. After all, there was only one person left in this world now who would call her.

"You got the file?" Shaw yelled over the phone, the background noisy as usual.

Yui plugged one ear with a finger and pressed the phone closer to her other while turning up the volume. He must be at Live House with a live concert going on. She could hear loud music playing in the background and people cheering. Before she met Shaw, she always thought these live shows only played at night, but she was wrong. Apparently, they played whenever they wanted to.

"Yes. Where do you need me to go this time?" She asked with a voice loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough that people from the cafe wouldn't be disturbed.

"Getting efficient, huh?" He said with a voice that was obvious he was smirking on the other side. "The amusement park."

She froze. She was ready to work, to gather intel for Shaw, hoping it would get her mind off of her current situation, even for a tiny little bit. But she didn't expect it to be at the amusement park of all places.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He asked when she didn't reply.

"Does it…" She hesitated, not wanting to give Shaw the opportunity to learn more of her weakness, but she didn't know if she had it in her to go there. "Does it have to be the amusement park?"

"You think intel goes wherever you want it to go?"

She clutched her fist and sighed. He was right. The file he sent clearly indicated that someone was planning an attack. If SHAW said she could gather information at that location to prevent it, the suspects must have left a trail there and not somewhere else. After all, SHAW had never pointed her to the wrong location yet.

But she'd rather go anywhere but there. Send her to the headquarters of Black Swan for all she cared, just not the amusement park.

"Fine. You got me interested. What don't you like about the amusement park?" He usually didn't seem to care about what she does or does not want, but this intrigued him.

"Nevermind. I'll go. I don't want to talk about it." Her voice flat. She didn't want him to ask any further. She would rather face the pain herself than to expose more of her weakness to him. "Besides, you were going to have me go regardless, no?"

"You're no fun." He tutted at her. He paused for a second before resuming with a voice deeper than usual. "I bet it's because of him. You guys probably went on stupid lovey-dovey dates there and so you don't want to go back when he's not with you."

SHAW’s guess was dangerously close to hitting a bull’s eye.

She and Gavin did go on a date at the amusement park, but he was so stupid and so unromantic that he ended up talking on the phone the whole time they were on the Ferris Wheel. She got so upset with him she didn't even want to talk to him. Of course, they made up in the end, but that now-cute memory, as much as it pained her to remember, wasn't the one she was most afraid of reliving.

It was the wedding shoot. Gavin and her stood in for the 100th couple who backed out of the shoot last minute. Although they weren't truly getting married, the memory of her in the wedding gown standing beside Gavin in his blue striped suit, telling each other they were the only ones they ever wanted to be partners with in a wedding whether real or fake was too much for her to bear. It reminded her too much of what might never be if she wasn’t able to fix the situation of her not existing in anyone’s memories in this dimension.

Having to be back at the location that would force her to relive this memory, she wasn't sure if she could keep herself together let alone complete the mission.

But this was private. A memory she wanted to hold so dear that she did not want to discuss with anyone in fear of losing it just like how she lost everything else. It was an irrational fear, of course.

But with so much going on, she felt the need to allow herself to be irrational on this one thing.

She kept her silence, having already said what she wanted to say on the matter.

"Doesn't matter," he finally said, seemingly irritated by her silence. "You start tomorrow."

The line went dead. He hung up on her.

Loud thunder cracked through the air. She jumped at the sound and wondered why the weather was so strange in this dimension. It was a bright sunny day outside.

Yui shook her head and thought of SHAW again.

She didn't understand him. On the outside, he seemed like any other 20 year old little brat, without a care in the world and yet he was doing all these things to gather information and even had Black Swan and evol agents from the STF going after him. He even had connections to make fake identities that would pass most government checks for her. All signs pointed to him being a big player in these schemes everyone seemed to be weaving.

However, his attitude were also too laissez-faire, too chaotic. He wasn't like anyone she had known.

He was a leader, much like Victor, but unlike Victor who always had a clear destination, he may lead you in a wild goose chase for his own amusement.

He played, much like Kiro, but unlike Kiro who was like sunshine and puppies, he plays with you like a cat would a mouse.

He was mysterious, much like Lucien, but unlike Lucien who would always plan five steps ahead in everything, he seemed only to have an end goal in mind, making things up as they unfold.

And he was nothing like Gavin. In fact, other than his eye color, his jawline and the fact that they were both amazing bass players, he was the total opposite of Gavin. Where Gavin was gentle, SHAW was rough. Where Gavin always strive to do the right thing for the greater good, SHAW seemed to only do things for his own benefit.

But it didn’t matter what kind of person SHAW was or what his goals were. In this partnership, Yui and SHAW took what they needed from each other, that was it. Nothing more and nothing less.

Placing her cell phone in her pocket, she gently touched the ginkgo bracelet on her wrist before she stood up and walked out of the coffee shop. As cold air rushed at her face, she adjusted her winter jacket and pulled the hood over her head.

She had one night to steel herself from the emotional onslaught that was sure to come during the next few days. But she had agreed to take on the mission and she would not allow herself to back down or to fail it. She would give it her all, even if it meant ripping the still-open wound in her heart even wider.

Yui stepped forward with stubborn determination in her stride.

[writing-radionoises]

grounding

ship: none, dazai & akutagawa bullshit

genre: emotional hurt/comfort

prompt: akutagawa has a flashback, dazai tries to comfort

notes: more ada akutagawa because this is my city bitches. anyways.

It’s not the first mission Akutagawa has been on.

Though it definitely feels like it, as it’s the first mission he’s been on with Osamu Dazai since their mafia days.

He’s been with the agency so long, it feels strange to actually be on a mission with Dazai. Though, to be fair, he ignored and avoided Dazai for months until Dazai eventually tried to repair their relationship.

It was going to be fine. His unease with Dazai had since passed after finally accepting that Dazai was a coworker, not his mentor.

The two were being prepared in the back alley, sent to investigate the case of an ability user gone rogue. Akutagawa wrapped bandages around his hands and arms for added support, while Dazai was patting down each and every one of his pockets of his trenchcoat to make sure he had everything.

It was fine, Akutagawa was calm.

Up until Dazai reached into a pocket and pulled out a handgun, checking the ammo in it, and it sent Akutagawa spiraling.

His vision darkened and he felt his heart seize up, a soft noise of alarm falling from his mouth as he watched Dazai carefully.

He’s one his knees, in front of Dazai.

His hands are held up, trembling like he was caught by the police.

His trenchcoat was discarded, soaking in the blood puddle nearby in the dark, cave-like room.

The gun pressed against his forehead is cold, but the rest of his body feels hot.

He’s overheating.

He’s scared.

What is he supposed to do if Dazai pulls the trigger?

He’s going to die.

It’ll all be over, he’ll never see Gin again, never see Higuchi, never get to go home again, never get to see his cat again.

Oh god.

“Pl, please…” Akutagawa begged, looking up at Dazai with fear in his eyes, “Please, Dazai-san, please don’t shoot me.”

“Why not?” Dazai protested, his finger twitched against the trigger and Akutagawa felt his heart start to beat even faster, “You have nothing to live for, Akutagawa. If you can’t live up to my expectations, there’s no reason for you to live.”

… He’s right.

The concrete beneath Akutagawa’s knees is digging in, they’ll be sore and red if he manages to stand up again.

He really has to cough. He’s holding his breath because even one little movement could get Dazai off, and he could die.

His arms are… So tired.

Rashomon is curling around his body like a protective lover, manifesting from his silken white button up.

“D, Dazai-san, I have someone to go home to, s, someone to protect… You don’t want my blood on your consciousness, I promise,” Ryunosuke continues to beg, swallowing thickly, “I’m begging you, please don’t kill me.”

His voice trembles from his own fear, it’s uncontrollable, but he’s doing his best to remain calm.

He pushes back any thoughts of Gin as far away from his mind as possible.

If he dies, he dies. There is nothing he can do about it.

Even if Gin evokes a certain wrath upon Dazai after he’s gone, Akutagawa will still be dead.

… He should’ve died years ago, honestly.

Maybe Dazai-san is doing him a favor.

“Everyone has someone to protect,” Dazai protested, “You’re nothing special.”

He pulls the trigger.

“Please don’t shoot me!” Ryunosuke cries out, falling to his knees in front of Dazai as he clutches his chest.

Tears spill out of his eyes, his body shakes without control.

He can’t die. He can’t die yet, he has so much to live for, oh god-

He can see Atsushi’s frowning face, Kyouka’s face of disapproval, Gin crying in her room.

“Please don’t! I beg of you!” He cried out again.

Dazai quickly drops his gun, his eyes wide as he watches Ryunosuke with panic.

“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Dazai replied, as quickly and calm as possible as he puts his hands up cautiously, beginning to walk towards Akutagawa, “I don’t have anything to hurt you with, look!”

Dazai begins to empty his pockets as he gets on his knees a distance away from Akutagawa. He takes out his wallet, his keys, thousands upon thousands of receipts.

He takes out his watch, his agency identification card, stun gun, literally everything, then taking off his coat and throws it over Akutagawa’s shoulders.

“Calm down, calm down,” Dazai hushes softly, Akutagawa’s breath hitches quietly as he glues his eyes to the gravel below him.

There’s silence between them as Akutagawa continues to shake, desperately trying to dry his eyes.

He’s not going to die today, Dazai isn’t here to hurt him.

“Do you remember what Atsushi taught you?” Dazai asked calmly, “The countdown grounding?”

Akutagawa nods.

“Okay, let’s do that, okay? Tell me five things you can see.”

Akutagawa lifts his head up, looking around the alleyway cautiously.

“Receipts on the concrete… Street lamp in the distance… Five or so windows above us… Your wallet, and… Ivy growing up the alleyway walls,” he reports, softly.

“Okay, that’s good,” Osamu continued, “Four things you can hear?”

Dazai’s voice is one, it’s calming and nothing like the tone he had heard all those years before.

There’s cars in the distance, honking and engines.

He can hear the electronic buzzing of the street lamp, and wind howling behind him.

“There’s your voice… And cars in a distance, the street lamp is buzzing… And the wind is howling.”

Dazai nods with a smile.

“Three things you can feel.”

Dazai’s trench coat. It’s heavy and warm, not necessarily soft from it’s years of usage, but it’s nice.

The concrete beneath his knees. It’s hard and jagged, it hurts his knees.

The cold chain of the locket around his neck. It’s so light, he barely feels the coldness of it until he’s in a moment like this one.

“Trenchcoat, concrete, locket,” Akutagawa replies.

“Good,” praised the brunette, “Second to last one, two things you can smell.”

“Motor oil,” Akutagawa responds almost instantly, it’s an overwhelming smell even from in this small alleyway.

It’s not very pleasant.

“And… Kunikida’s cologne. It’s all over your jacket.”

Dazai stifles a chuckle, “Yes, he tends to accidentally spray it on me. Last one, take a deep breath, okay?”

Akutagawa does as told, counting to three as he inhaled and to four as he exhaled.

His heartbeat has decreased back into normal, out of the panic zone, and shaking lessened.

“Good job, Akutagawa,” Dazai replied, “Are you okay?”

Akutagawa nods, “I’m fine, we need to get going on this mission…”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods a no, “No, you’re not okay. You’re still shaking, and I’ve seriously scared you. I’m calling Kunikida and we’re switching you out.”

“Dazai-san, you don’t have t-”

“You come before any of our missions,” Dazai insisted, picking up his phone from off the ground, “And it’s okay to admit you’re not okay.”

Akutagawa sighs, relaxing once more as Dazai dials up Kunikida. He removes Dazai’s jacket from off his shoulders, giving the jacket a reassuring squeeze.

There are parts of Dazai that will never change, Akutagawa supposes.

And in this moment, he’s starting to regret tossing out Dazai’s old jacket from his mafia days.

Sure, the Jacket was old, filthy and covered in blood, full of his past traumas, but it was comforting.

… He needs a new jacket.

Within at least ten minutes, Kunikida’s car pulls up soon after Dazai has picked up all his things, and Kyouka hops out of the car instead.

She pats Akutagawa on the head with a smile.

“Trade out, Kunikida is waiting for you,” she says, and Akutagawa nods as he hands Kyouka Dazai’s jacket, getting up and getting into Kunikida’s car.

Kunikida readjusted his rear view mirror, looking at Akutagawa through it.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Akutagawa pauses.

“Not… Really,” he admits, “I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it, this stuff happens all the time. Let’s get you back to the agency,” Kunikida replies, “Atsushi’s waiting.”

A slight smile appeared on Akutagawa’s face.

He’s still getting used to saying he’s not okay.

[biconpolo]

Stupid Fucking Glasses

Summary: Polo’s having a tough time after Marina’s death, and it’s becoming quite obvious. One day he breaks down and reaches out for help. Christian answers.

Relationship/Characters: Polo x Christian x Carla(mentioned)

Note: polo-centric; post-season 1, ignoring the hints of a possibility of the trio getting together at the end, they broke up and stayed broken up after polo cheats w/ christian, ignoring everything from the season 2 trailer as this was written beforehand

inspired by a convo i had with @leaderofthebadguys regarding polo and his glasses in the flashback scene about pablo

tw: suicide mention, suicidal thoughts, murder mention

Polo had begun wearing his glasses again, something that had not been seen in over a year. This was the first hint that something was off. He had always felt as though his glasses made him look juvenile, so the replacement with contacts gave him a more sophisticated and professional outward appearance. Polo had not gone a day since he received his prescription without them… until now. Now he wore glasses almost daily.

It was a steady decline, not immediate or sudden, but after the first day he left the house in glasses, it just seemed easier for him to continue the trend. Some days he looked better than others. On those days he would smile, and it would almost reach his eyes. He was like a hermit over the summer holiday, only making appearances when his mothers or best friends needed him. One could chalk this all up to symptoms of depression relating to the loss of Marina. God knows he and Guzmán had been friends since childhood, so it made sense for him to grieve her loss to a similar extent.

From an outsider’s perspective, Polo’s life had been going downhill, and he seemed to be stuck in a negative spiral. His four-year relationship with his girlfriend ended, and she gave off the appearance of having no trouble bouncing back. His best friend’s sister had been murdered by his (friend?, ex-friend?, classmate?, ex’s new boyfriend?, something else?)’s best friend. It was a clusterfuck. An outsider would say: “No wonder Polo hasn’t put much effort in his appearance lately.” But the truth is far worse than that.

Polo no longer seemed to care about anything. It was hard for him to get out of bed, and he hated the sight of himself. Anytime he looked in the mirror he saw memories of himself sobbing, covered in Marina’s blood. It was enough to make him want to shatter every reflection he encountered. His eyes were dull, no longer the sparkling blue they used to be. His hair grew longer, and he didn’t seem to care. His mothers set up an appointment for him to get it trimmed, and he wouldn’t have gone if it weren’t for the look on his mother’s face when she reminded him the day of, when she said to “please try and leave the house today,” eyebrows drawn in concern and worry for her son. He did, and he made it to the appointment. The following days he was determined to try harder to hide his true mental state for the sake of his mothers and his friends. It’s hard enough to pull through such a traumatic loss without having those around you display zero apparent motivation to recover or even attempt to fight the depression. He tried for Guzmán’s sake. But Polo still found it too tiring.

He still loved his best friend, that was the sick twist. When he spent time with or even saw Guzmán he felt nauseated. Guilt would seep in. ‘I’m a terrible human being. I don’t deserve the love he is extending to me. If he only knew…’ Polo had seen Guzmán’s anger manifested in physical assault before, and there was no doubt in his mind he would be the victim of a far-worse outburst should Guzmán ever find out. Self-preservation alone kept him from confessing.

Well, that and his duty to protect his confidants.

Carla and Polo occasionally crossed paths during their holiday, really only at social events they had been forced to attend by their parents. Their families would not interact more than was necessary at such an event in order to spare their children: a greeting, small talk, and a parting. Carla would check up on him inconspicuously during these interactions, making sure he was maintaining the charade. This would remind Polo to fix his sad, drooping hair and smile a bit more. Of course, these smiles never reached his eyes, but it’s the thought that counts. Every interaction with Carla made his heart feel like it was being squeezed as he was unable to run into her arms and cry, releasing all the frustration and fear pent up inside him. But she wouldn’t have had it. They were no longer together. She had made that perfectly clear.

Sometimes Carla would bring Christian along. On those days Polo would avoid the pair at all costs. It was all too clear to Polo how much Christian resented him, and he didn’t need to see his face and the clear rejection present in his body language. How could Christian have any positive thoughts about Polo when he is the reason his best friend is back in prison, wrongfully convicted? Those thoughts were too painful. Polo stayed away, and his mental state continued in its downward spiral.

By the time the new school year started up the difference in him was quite apparent. Polo’s stuttering appeared more and more frequently, so much that he nearly stopped talking altogether. Guzmán didn’t seem too into talking anymore either, so no one seemed to mind his silence. They set up a memorial to Marina in the main hallway of the school. Polo refused to look at it. Rarely a day went by when Polo showed up to Las Encinas without glasses.

Polo had gotten lazy. He was too tired, too tired to care what people thought, too tired to care if people found out. He couldn’t live with himself anymore. He was a monster, and he couldn’t stand himself.

It was hard. Polo was constantly ready for someone to come into class and announce that he was the murderer. And he wouldn’t have fought. They would find out eventually, and Polo would pay for his crimes. It was only a matter of time.

He rarely paid attention in his classes, and his grades started dropping to nearly failing. Everyone could see that this was not his normal behavior. Principal Muñoz spoke with him about making sure he was taking care of himself and attended the appointments with his therapist. Not that those appointments ever helped, because Polo couldn’t talk about what was really going on.

Seeing Carla and Christian together only made it worse really. They put on a show, Polo knew that, but it still hurt. He could see they weren’t fully there. They were off, Carla’s smile not as bright as it once was, Christian much less disruptive and chaotic than normal. It was Polo’s fault. And still he watched as they sat together, watched as they shared affectionate looks, watched as they kissed.

And then one night it happened: Polo broke. He was at home, his mothers off at yet another event for the rest of the night. He was grateful they were gone; he didn’t know what would come out of his mouth if he had someone to cry to. Today had been no different from the others; it just felt like too much. Maybe it was the way Guzmán had kissed him goodbye when he left school that day. Maybe it was the way Carla and Christian softly looked at each other during lunch. Maybe it was due to him accidentally seeing the memorial of Marina for the first time in a while. Whatever it was, he had hit a breaking point.

When Polo returned home he broke down immediately. Lying face-down on his bed he sobbed, his glasses thrown to the side. He half-heartedly tried to undo his tie, but gave up half-way through. He stayed that way for a while. Time passed, or maybe it didn’t; didn’t matter much to him. He tried to calm his breathing. His head was pounding and his throat sore. When his breathing evened out enough, he pulled out his phone. He knew he needed help. He didn’t know who he could turn to. The only ones who knew about his true situation would hate to hear from him, and if he confided in anyone else they would tell the police, putting both Carla and Christian in danger for helping him.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he didn’t care what happened to himself. If they refused to acknowledge him, that was that. Polo wiped the tears from his eyes, and returned his glasses to his face once again. He opened his phone to his group chat with Carla and Christian, unused since before the breakup. He started recording.

“H-h-hey. I know you don’t wanna hear from me. I’m sorry, but I need help. I-I feel lost, and I think I’m going crazy. I don’t deserve your help. I don’t deserve your love. I’m a monster. B-but everything hurts, and I can’t stand to live like this any longer. It’s all falling apart, and I feel like I’m drowning-“ He broke off, his breathing heavy with tears. Polo regained his voice. “Please.”

The message was sent as he broke down into sobs of anguish as he tried to escape the turmoil in his mind. He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Polo drifted off, resigned to the darkness and apathy overcoming him.

Suddenly he woke to pounding at his front door.

“Open up!”

Christian.

Polo made this way over to the door and hesitated. The anger in Christian’s voice only terrified him more.

“Polo, open this fucking door!”

As if on autopilot he reached for the handle and opened it. The other strode past and rounded on him. He looked like he would have busted down the door if he had been kept waiting a moment longer. Polo shut the door but was unable to meet Christian’s eyes when he turned around.

“You fucking idiot. What do you think you’re doing sending messages like that? Do you ever think about anyone but yourself? Huh? Did you even stop to think how Carla would react to a message like that? Do you know what kind of state she was in after she heard your message?”

This caught Polo’s attention, and his eyes snapped to Christian’s. They were fiery, full of anger and… fear. Christian was afraid.

“We were together, thank God, when we got it,” he continued. “Do you have any idea what that sounded like? She thought you were going to kill yourself! She broke down sobbing thinking this was a suicide note. She begged me to go check on you, but she was hysterical, and I couldn’t leave her like that. I have never seen her so torn up; I didn’t know what to do! And now I’m here, so I’m gonna ask again. What. The fuck. Were you thinking?” Christian stared at Polo, breathing heavily. He must’ve sped straight from Carla’s house.

Polo’s eyes had never left Christian’s, and when he heard how his ex-girlfriend had reacted to his message his eyes had begun to sting. That was all he was ever good for. All he ever did was hurt others. Why did he think they were going to be able to save him? He could never be saved. All he could do was hurt people.

Christian stared at him, eyes cold, waiting for an answer.

Polo took a breath. And then another. He tried to respond. He really did. No words came. He looked away.

Christian fumed. “What the fuck did you mean? You don’t deserve our help? What? Did you think you were in this on your own? Are Carla and I not a part of this at all? Have we not sacrificed anything? Does it mean nothing to you that this has been been eating away at us all summer too? You’re not the only one who’s hurting, Polo. Honestly, you’re just a coward. You’re a coward, and I can’t fucking stand what you’re putting us through. And now you act like the burden is all on you?? My fucking best friend is in jail for something you did.”

“Then why are you here?” Polo had found his voice. “Why do you care? I-I said it before. I don’t deserve your help. I ruined your friend’s life. Why should you forgive me for that? I don’t understand why you haven’t run off to the police yet. P-probably to protect Carla, but you know I wouldn’t hurt her. I would never bring her further into my m-mess.” He took a breath, as if he was steeling himself. “Actually, please, do me a favor. Go to the police now. Tell them I did it. Tell-tell them you didn’t know anything until now, b-but the voice message prompted you to come see what I was talking about, and I confessed to you, so you immediately ran off to the police. Then both you and Carla are safe, Nano gets out, and I get what I deserve.” He sounded so defeated, so tired.

“Are you an idiot?” Christian spits out. “Seriously, are you fucking stupid? Why would I do that?”

“Because you hate me and what I’ve done to you.” Some fire returned to Polo’s voice. “So, please, just go. I-I won’t mention you; I won’t mention Carla. I’ll say I did it all on my own; I promise you. I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Shut up. Honestly, Polo, just shut the fuck up. Are you for real right now? Okay, yeah. I’m pissed Nano had to take the fall. I’m pissed you got us into this mess. I’m pissed that the system completely fucks over whoever they feel like, especially if the poor sons of bitches can’t pay them off. I’m pissed that I’m worried about you. And I’m pissed that Carla still cares so fucking much about you. But there’s gotta be another way to get him out. There has to be a way. Yeah, it’s terrible, and there are times I hate you for what you’ve done to completely screw my life over. There are times I wish Carla and I could actually work out or even attempt a stable relationship, just the two of us. There are times I really wanna cut the charade, but….” He trailed off, breathing heavy, as if his mind had just caught up to what he was saying.

“But…?” Polo prompted. “Why can’t you turn me in? Why are you here then? Because it sure as hell doesn’t sound like it was really just for Carla’s sake.”

Christian was silent for a moment. His eyes drifted around the room as he searched for an answer. Exhausted, he breathed,“Why can’t I fucking hate you?”

Polo took in a shaky breath. “I murdered my best friend’s sister. What’s wrong with me? What kind of fucking monster can live with himself after he does something like that?” Polo’s legs started to shake, and he dropped down onto the sofa, unable to hold himself up any longer. Tears began to spill. He breathed. “Carla was right. I-I do want to kill myself. W-what’s the point of living knowing I ruined the lives of everyone I care about? I don’t deserve to live after doing that…”

Christian crouched down in front of Polo, and clasped their hands together as tears started to burn his eyes as well. “Fuck… Polo, don’t you dare cry. Stop crying right now, and listen to me, okay? You’re not a monster. You’re wonderful and brilliant and emotional. You love fiercely. And we need you here. I… I need you here.” His eyes glowing with a soft passion fully directed at Polo, urging him to understand. “So don’t you dare say any of those things. Don’t you dare kill yourself.”

Polo leaned forward, towards their clasped hands, towards Christian, and leaned his head against the other’s shoulder. “I just wanted us to be together.” Polo continued to sob. “That’s all I wanted. I never tried to hurt Carla. I never tried to hurt you. I sure as hell never wanted to hurt Marina. But I f-f-failed. Everything fell to shit, and I can’t handle trying to pick up all the pieces anymore. All I do is hurt people. The world is better off without monsters like me. You’re better off without me, both of you…. A-and what would be the point of living without you?” He trailed off.

“You fucker, you’re not allowed to die, and you’re sure as hell not allowed to turn yourself in,” Christian scolded the young man in front of him, grasping his hands with newfound passion, forcing Polo to lean back so they could meet eyes. “You know what? I don’t care if I’m better off without you! I don’t care that you made terrible mistakes! What I do care about is you!” He brought his hands up and held Polo’s face, urging Polo to look at him. “So don’t you dare die. Don’t you dare leave me.”

As Polo brought his eyes up to meet Christian’s the latter surged forwards, and captured his lips with his own. When they separated, Christian’s face softened, and his thumbs lightly brushed the other’s cheekbones, lightly bumping the frames on Polo’s face as they wiped his tears away.

“Do you understand what I’m saying now?” His voice gentler than ever before.

Polo stared, stunned, unable to believe what had just happened. The two gazed at each other for a moment.

Suddenly Polo regained his senses and lightly removed Christian’s hands from his face, pulling away. “You can’t do this to Carla. She doesn’t deserve this. Go and be with her. Check up on her; make sure she’s okay. She doesn’t want me; she can’t trust me. It’s no use getting our hopes up.” He sniffled, trying to regain his composure, a fake smile graced the corner of his mouth.

Christian threw his hands up in exasperation, “How many times do I have to call you a fucking idiot? She loves you. This breakup hasn’t just been bad for you. We try, and we do love each other, but there’s always sadness in her eyes. She misses you. We haven’t even had sex in weeks. She doesn’t say it, but you’d have to be blind to see how much she misses you. Is that enough proof for you? She’s crazy about you, man,” Christian grabbed Polo’s hands once more, “… and so am I.” He smirked, “Even with your stupid fucking glasses.”

Polo cracked a smile and stared back at him for a moment. “…For real?”

“For real,” Christian responded offering a small, genuine smile.

It was Polo’s turn to crash their mouths together, and he didn’t hold back, for once in his life. The two finally broke away smiling.

“So now you see why you have to keep living. You can’t give up, and you can’t turn yourself in. I don’t know what I’d do with myself without you here.” Christian’s serious tone was not dulled by his joy. “We’re gonna keep going, and we’re gonna get through this. You’re not going to jail. You’re worth more than all the pain and troubles caused by that one disaster of a night.”

Polo looked at their joined hands and rubbed his thumbs along the other’s hands thoughtfully. He finally spoke: “Will you ever be able to forgive me?” A hesitant look in his eyes as he looked at Christian, waiting for his answer.

“Babe, the only way you’re not forgiven is if you don’t come here and kiss me right now,” he smirked before softening for a moment. “You’re safe; we’ve got you. We’ll get through this together.”

Polo nodded, feeling a sense of relief for the first time in months.

“Besides, we do have quite a bit of making up to do.”

Polo smiled back and leaned toward Christian, “Yes, we do.”

[snek-boii]

Dimensions of Amnesia | Prologue

Last chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: An experiment goes horribly wrong.

Ships: DLAMPR

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, let me know if I need to add anything else please!

Word Count: 1641

A/N: Hello, and welcome to my first Sanders Sides AU! In this, all of the sides are human, for now. And this is set far in the future; 2066, to be exact. I hope you all enjoy, and chapter one is coming out later today!

•|•

Damian was usually a calm sleeper.

Surrounded by the warming embraces of his four boyfriends, he was usually able to sleep soundly and without disturbance. But on this particular morning, he found that he couldn’t. His thoughts were churning like a raging sea that was unable to be tamed.

He glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and internally groaned. 3:25AM, it read. When did the time fly so fast? Oh, Logan would kill me if he knew I was still awake. That thought brought a small smile to Damian’s face, prompting him to glance down lovingly at where Logan was sleeping, Virgil squished between him and Damian. They were adorable.

Eventually, after a while of staring up at the ceiling and admiring how adorable his sleeping boyfriends were, he decided he would get up. Carefully, so that he didn’t wake anyone up, Damian untangled himself from the nest of limbs and slipped out of the bed. The cold of the room hit him, and he shivered as he changed into something warmer.

Now dressed up in black pants and a gold sweater, Damian took one last glance at the four. Patton, not liking the loss of heat, had snuggled up to Virgil, leading to Reman shifting closer to Patton and wrapping his arms around them. Logan’s arms were still wrapped securely around Virgil’s waist.

A smile toyed with his lips before he walked out of the room.

His footsteps were light, even though he felt like collapsing on the floor and taking a good 12-hour nap. Reman and Logan were light sleepers, so he didn’t want to accidentally wake them up.

Damian walked down the stairs, running a hand through his curly hair. He yawned as he walked into the kitchen, beginning to make some coffee. That would wake him up, Damian hoped. A few minutes later Damian leaned against the counter, a cup of fresh coffee in his hand. It was around 4AM now, he guessed. Now that he was more alert, he looked around the kitchen. The silence was strange, in a way; Patton wasn’t bustling in the kitchen cooking, Logan wasn’t spewing random (but very interesting) facts, Reman wasn’t belting out Disney songs like his life depended on it, and Virgil wasn’t sitting on the counter and watching their antics. It was just him.

Well, I’m not going back to sleep anytime soon... I might as well check up on our project.

Ah, the project.

Logan and Damian had been working on this project for months, almost a year, trying to perfect it. It was going to be a gift for their boyfriends, in a language they knew how to speak: science. The plan was to build a portal in the lab underneath their apartment, and bring the others to another dimension. Almost like a vacation. There would be necessary precautions, of course. They didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

Development had gone smoothly, and so had most of the testing phases. The last thing to test was if a human could travel safely between dimensions.

This was the hardest part of building a portal.

So many things could go wrong, whether it be with the transfer or something else. The human could get deposited in a different dimension than planned, the portal could explode... There were even reports of the humans returning mutated, or with animalistic features. It was risky, but he and Logan were determined. Everything was going to be fine. They had planned on doing the human testing today.

Tomorrow would be the day that they revealed the portal to the other three.

Damian, still holding his coffee, walked out of the kitchen. Now, he was facing a beige wall with a small portrait hanging from it; a selfie of the five of them. He smiled softly, before quietly knocking a pattern into the wall. Four, three, one, one, silence.

Patton had suggested that, although he didn’t know what he was suggesting it for. It was now their password for the secret elevator to the lab. The wall slid open much like a regular elevator door, revealing a large compartment inside. Damian walked inside, pressing a button on the inside of the door and leaning back against the wall. The doors slid shut, and the elevator hummed gently as it took him down to the basement.

Damian took a sip of his coffee. He would have woken Logan up, but he had noticed how many all-nighters Logan had pulled working on this thing. The poor man deserved to sleep. Besides, this was just a quick check; in and out, to make sure that nothing was broken.

Soon, the elevator slowed down and came to a complete stop. It dinged to announce the arrival, and the doors opened.

It revealed a giant room with a dome-shaped roof. A white platform circled around the curved edges, glass separating the platform area from the rest of the room. Small lights were embedded into the walls, that would blare in case of an emergency. A white chair sat in front of him, a curved panel with hundreds of buttons in front of it. Small screens hung above the panel, showing angled views of the real star of the room: the portal.

Currently, it was inactive. The ring of metal was silver, but black on the underside. That was where a metal called harinium was placed. Harinium, found back in 2043, had the best conductivity for a portal, and was pretty much the only metal that could withstand the amount of energy and heat a portal radiates. A thick platform was underneath the ring, holding it up. Stairs led up toward the base of the ring, so that whenever someone was ready, they could walk through the portal.

Damian walked up to the panel, gently moving the chair aside; he wouldn’t be sitting for this. He pressed a button on the panel, and the portal whirred to life.

Colors began to form and swirl in the metal circle. Damian watched closely as a mix of purples, blues, and greens appeared, swimming in a spiral as the circle inside the ring of metal grew larger. It never got old, watching the portal form.

Once the portal was at its full size, Damian took a sip of his coffee, set it to the side, and focused on the panel.

A screen popped up, showing the status of the object they had sent in yesterday and its coordinates. It was a quill that Logan owned. “Let’s bring you back, shall we?” Damian hummed to nobody in particular.

He typed in the coordinates to this dimension, applied it to the quill, and pressed the button. The quill would be back any moment now...

The colors in the portal morphed as the pathway for the quill was being created, colors enlarging and growing smaller. Damian’s foot tapped in anticipation as he grabbed a clipboard that had been discarded to the side, taking out a pen. His eyes fixed intently on the portal.

Smooth, midnight black feathers began to poke out of the portal, the substance touching it changing to the same color. Just a few seconds later, the quill floated down to the floor, intact just like it had been yesterday.

“Yes!” Damian grinned, writing down the results. He stepped around the panel, sliding open a glass door and walking down the steps. When he reached the bottom stair, there was a small container containing gloves, courtesy of Logan. You never knew what chemicals or strange bacteria could come from the other dimensions.

He slipped on a pair of the yellow gloves, welcoming the feeling of the fabric on his hands. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous room, reverberating off of the domed ceiling. Up the portal’s stairs he went, leaning down and gently grabbing the quill in his hands.

The lights of the portal reflected on his face and on the silver of the quill, lighting them both up like the northern lights. It was mesmerizing to watch the colors dance on the quill. A few moments later Damian straightened, walking back down the stairs and up the ones that led to the platform.

The beta test was complete.

Now, it was time for the real test.

Normally Damian would have waited for Logan first, so he could double-check everything before he went in, but he was feeling confident. The quill had come back safely, and he believed that he would too.

Besides, it was only a short jump; the dimension he was aiming for wasn’t that far away, and hopefully it would just be a quick trip and back.

Damian took one last look at the quill, running a finger over the dark feathers. Then, he laid it at the top of the panel for Logan to find, if he ever came in. He then typed the coordinates into the panel, watching the screen as it did calculations. Once the screen flashed an affirmative green, he knew it was time.

He walked around the panel again, walking through the glass doors. Sliding it shut again, he made his way toward the portal. The colors warped in front of him much like last time, almost inviting him to step into the swirling depths.

Up the stairs Damian went, and now the colors were right in front of him. Luring him, drawing him closer...

Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to walk into the liquid-like depths.

It was too late for him to notice the room flashing red, or hear the alarms blaring.

He should have waited for Logan, said a faint voice in the back of his head.

A blood curdling scream sounded, piercing the wall and reaching the apartment above.

So loud it was, that Logan and Reman jolted awake, dread filling their hearts as they recognized the voice.

[idkiguessiamatable]

Can I request a Fem Reader x Lotor imagine where the Reader is feeling really insecure (she normally is but it's worse on this day) around their 3 year anniversary of dating and he proposes? And she just bursts into tears with a mix of joy because she wants to say yes but instead she says "why me?" And it's a big misunderstanding but everything is resolved? Sorry if that's confusing!

I am so freaking sorry this took so long, but here it is

“What am I going to do?” I ask myself out loud while walking down the hall to Lotor’s room. Tomorrow is our 3rd anniversary and I have no clue what I’m doing for him. Or in general. I have no idea why he even puts up with me. I usually get extra anxious around our anniversary, but this year it’s worse. It’s been almost three whole years now. He must be sick of me, he’ll probably dump me any day now. ‘Shut up, no he won’t ‘ the voice in my head tells me ‘He loves you’“(Y/n)!” Lotor says, cutting off my thoughts. “I’ve been looking for you”“Oh, well I was just looking for you”“I was thinking,” Panic wells up in me. ‘This is it’“Tomorrow we could stop by the base on Arus. Just the two of us.” See, it’s all in your head. He isn’t breaking up with you.“Sure! I’d love to!” “Wonderful, now I have some business to attend to. My schedule is full for the rest of the day and I have a meeting tomorrow morning so how about I meet you there?”“Yeah... Sure”“Splendid, I’ll see you then” He presses a kiss to my temple and walks off. Normally when we go out together, it’s a mission as well as a date so he probably has some business and is just bringing me along because it’s our anniversary. Lotor says it’s because he doesn’t want people coming after me because I’m his girlfriend.Usually, we meet in his room or he’ll come to my place and we just hang out. Nothing fancy. Except on anniversaries, but why would he take me to the Arus base for our anniversary. Most likely something went down and he has to deal with it. Lotor is no longer the emperor after the fight with Voltron in the quintessence field but over the years he has worked his way up to some of the higher positions within the empire. Even though he has proven himself time and time again the paladins refuse to place any trust in him. I guess it makes sense, he did some horrible things, but his intentions were good. He is a good person. And I love him. At this point, I reach my ship, board and set a course for my home planet. The next day, I fly out to Arus to meet Lotor. I ended up buying a really cool sword for him. Not the best but it’s better than nothing. I sit on the ground beside the door from the hangar to the base itself. I wait for almost half an hour. Did I really get stood up by my boyfriend on our anniversary?‘He doesn’t actually love you’ Yes he does‘Nope. You are inferior in every way’No I am not! ‘Yes you are. And now he sees it too’ Stop it! ‘He probably left you for Princess Allura’ What? ‘You know he still loves her’ No he doesn’t, he loves me ‘Why? Allura is a princess, an alchemist and a paladin. You’re just a stupid technician. And you know they had a thing’ Yeah, but that’s in the past. She hates him and he’s moved on‘That’s just what he tells you so you don’t think about the fact that he’s cheating’He would never!‘Except that he is. Think about it, he’s always off on business trips and he’s constantly working. You don’t think he does anything else?’I keep spiraling down and down until a voice pulls me out“(Y/n)? Are you okay?” Lotor. I stand quickly and brush myself off.“Of course! Absolutely wonderful! And you?” He eyes me suspiciously, not believing my sudden burst of optimism. “I’m fine,” he says slowly “are you sure you’re okay? You know you can tell me anything.” “Yes, yes, I know. Now, what did you have planned?” I ask, attempting to take his mind off my little internal episode. It works. His eyes light up. He is clearly excited about whatever he has to deal with. Lotor takes my hand and leads me to the main control room. On the way, I don’t see anyone. No guards or anything.“Do you remember what happened in this room about three and a half years ago?” I tilt my head at him in confusion. “This is the room we met in.” I suddenly remember that moment and laugh. The base was brand new. I was running a check on all the systems and the emperor sent Lotor to make sure things were going smoothly. At first I didn’t notice him. He walked up and asked me a question. I jumped and accidentally hit the ‘Close Hangar Door’ button as a ship was entering. The door closed on the ship, cutting it in half. No one was hurt and it’s now an inside joke but it’s still the biggest ‘Oh Shit’ moment of my life. “Well since this is where it all started,” Lotor continues “I figured this should be where the next chapter starts” I turn to him but before I could ask what he means, he gets down on one knee and takes my hand.“Oh my-““(Y/n), I knew from the moment we met that you were going to change my life forever. And I was right,” the tears are streaming down my face “You have made me happier than I ever thought was possible. You pulled me out of the darkest time of my life and introduced me to the best. I honestly cannot imagine my life without you in it and I really don’t want to. (Y/n). Will you marry me?” I can see tears in his eyes.“Why?” I finally manage to whisper. He’s taken aback. “W-what?” “Why me? You could have literally anyone but you choose me? Why?”“I...don’t think I follow”“You could marry anyone! Why would you ever want to marry me? I’m a stupid technician and you’re a freaking Space Prince! Why wouldn’t you want someone in your own league?!” He looks at me in anger and disbelief.“How could you think that of yourself? Three years ago, I fell in love with you. You make me feel a way I have never felt. You are so amazing I ask how I got lucky enough to even meet you. Neither of us are perfect, (y/n), but we are perfect for each other. (Y/n), I love you for you! All your flaws and imperfections make you closer to perfect. Now will you marry me?!”“Yes!”“Good!” We stare at each other.“Good.” And as if a magnet were turned on, I flew into his arms and we shared the most passionate kiss. It felt as though we were no longer two people but one. We kissed for what I wish could have been an eternity but I pulled away first.“Aren’t there guards and soldiers around here somewhere?”“Nope!” He gave me the smuggest grin “I evacuated the base, said there was a poisonous gas leak and that I had a team coming in to fix it today. So we can do whatever we want.”“What about the security cameras?”“Dismantled them remotely”“So we can do whatever we want?”“Whatever we want” He repeated leaning in for another kiss. I feel him tugging at my clothes. I laugh“I love you” He whispers in my ear. I sigh contentedly. “I love you, too”

[potadd-blog]

Good Morning, Good Night

“Good morning, Yggdrasil.” said the Medium.

But only the forest’s silence answered back. No hearty gurgle of the branches as the birds jumped to and fro on them. No gentle rustle as the individual leaves brushed past each other in a welcome. No warm smell of Yggdrasil’s wood came to greet her. Only the bustling of birch trees and the rustle of leaves that came from her forest.

There was nothing.

“Yggdrasil?” The girl opened one of her eyes in curiosity, but still kept her hands clasped in prayer. There was a dreaded feeling that sat in her stomach, and it refused to go away.

Yet there was still nothing.

Her throat grew tighter, as if she had drank too much water too fast. Was this just a playful prank Yggdrasil had decided to play on her today? Her hands held each other tighter.

Xiuan.

“Yggdrasil!” The Medium gasped, then laughed, then felt anger as she realised how much she missed Yggdrasil and their wise presence. Should she reprimand them for scaring her? Or laugh along with Yggdrasil’s light prank? Whatever—she was just so happy to have them back.

There is something I must tell you, so please hold back your anger.  Yggdrasil murmured lightly. Xiuan almost did not hear his response, as they were speaking so quietly. It was like someone had covered the great tree in a large cloth. Like the tree was… trapped, almost.

A teapot nearby whistled in unhinged rage, demanding the attention of the Medium. “Hold on Yggdrasil, I need to tend to this tea here—ah! Would you care for some tea? I have taken the finest Chrysanthemums and a pinch of—“

Xiuan, this is urgent. Yggdrasil urged. I wish to tell you with your full attention on me.

Considering the strange way the tree was speaking today, Xiuan quickly sat back down after removing the teapot from the heater. What was happening with the Tree today?

Though she felt as if she already knew. The heaviness in her stomach had not disappeared yet.

I am going somewhere.

Xiuan blinked in surprise. Then she laughed. “Where are you going, Yggdrasil? Are you not a tree? Have you been hiding your true powers all this time?”

Yggdrasil did not laugh along. I… regret to say that I am leaving you.

Xiuan stopped laughing. Her eyes widened in shock, her heart thumping louder and louder until it was the only thing she could hear, the only thing she could feel even. It hurt.

Yggdrasil was leaving?

Yggdrasil was leaving?

Yggdrasil was leaving.

“Wh-why?” she managed to choke out.

It seems that I can only communicate through children. Yggdrasil continued. Their voice… was it getting fainter? No, no, no!

“I am a child!” Xiuan cried out, her cheeks cold from the tears sliding down and collecting at her chin. She was a child. Her body was that of a child. Her hands were small, and her eyes were big. She grabbed large chunks of grass and ripped them from the earth, imagining that the grass was her adulthood and the ground was the passing of time.

Xiuan, you are growing up.

“No, I am not!” She ripped out more chunks of grass and hurled them at the trees, at the birds, at the teapot filled with sweet Chrysanthemum tea that she meant to serve. She could not even begin to think of a life without Yggdrasil’s presence over her. Without their sticks and trunk and leaves and roots—how could she do on living? Nothing would be left of her, except the hollow, broken stump of a dead tree. She was slipping, her mind was slipping away like moss on smooth rock and there was nothing to hold on to—

You do have something, dear. Yggdrasil whispered.

“What is it?” Xiuan sank back down to the dirt, her energy thoroughly sapped.

Allow me to show you.

And slowly, the winds began to pick up. At first they were light, then they grew heavier and heavier, until Xiuan had to shield her face. The trees began to shake, their leafy rooves beginning to move. The grass she had previously ripped out in a disgusting fit of rage were now sent flying towards the clear sky, spiralling higher and higher like confetti for a birthday. She had never seen this happen before. It was cold, but she somehow felt… energized. Xiuan spread her arms and happily caught the feelings Yggdrasil was trying to share with her.

Then, a soft push at her back urged her forward. She found that the breeze was carrying along the slight scent of Chrysanthemum and cane sugar, with a slight hint of wood. Xiuan laughed as the breeze tickled her nose. “You drank my tea!”

I did, it was very delicious. Yggdrasil replied, continuing to push her towards the exit of her praying area. They kept walking, through the tightly knit birch trees and clouds of pink petals and pools of clovers, until they reached—

The villagers of Vessel town turned to face the soft breeze, surprised that wind was even blowing through the Misty Forest in this warm season. Some of the villagers chased after their berries that were now rolling away.

This is your true family. And all too quickly was the wind banished away. I want you to take this opportunity to live life as a normal girl. I burdened you with the task of being my communicator—now it is my turn to repay you.

“Yggdrasil…” Xiuan sighed.

The tree… didn’t consider themself to be a burden, did it?

She ran up to the table where she once shared a delightful meal with a group of five explorers and Yggdrasil. The table where she spread tales Yggdrasil had seen to the children of her village.

The table where she enjoyed herself with Yggdrasil.

The Medium stood up on the table. Never mind that stand on tables was a taboo—this was important, more important than tradition.

“Attention, please!” Xiuan called out. “Have any of you got any stories of Yggdrasil? They would like to hear them!”

Xiuan, please—

The Vessels turned to the girl on the table, confused at first. Some of the villagers mumbled to each other for a while, and Xiuan felt her heart drop to her feet. Maybe they had forgotten the kind things Yggdrasil had once done for them.

A lone voice broke through the confusion. “I remember this one time where I was picking berries, and the wind had caused them all to roll away. I ran after them of course. But when I found them, they had rolled into an even larger bush packed to the brim with berries!” He nudged his friend playfully. “Remember? We had a huge feast that day.”

His friend nodded. “Actually, now that I think of it, there were many times something happened to me like that. Once, I went fishing in the stream near here, and I accidentally slipped and scared away all the fish! I thought I’d go home empty-handed, but what do you know? I looked up, thinking this day couldn’t get any worse when an apple fell on me, then another, then another until I realised I was fishing right under an apple tree!” She laughed heartily, recalling the incident with euphoria.

The Vessels began to perk up, recalling their strange little events that Yggdrasil had a part in. Their quiet chatter quickly turned to an uproar in their realisation that Yggdrasil played a large part of their lives.

Xiuan, I—thank you.

“It was the least I could do. You’re not a burden, Yggdrasil. Every minute I spent with you I truly enjoyed.” Xiuan clasped and unclasped her hands.

She would grow up their sake. For her village’s sake. For her own sake. Yggdrasil may have played a large part of her life, but goodbyes had to be made in the end.

Xiuan, I must go now, said the tree.

Xiuan… The heavenly tree gasped its final words.

Xi-a-…

And, in that moment, that very small moment, a part of her fell away. The forest seemed duller, more realistic. Like the last leaf of autumn that needed to fall in order for it to snow.

But the trees still bustled, the leaves still rustled. They came from her forest.

“Good night, Yggdrasil.” Said the Medium. There was no need for sad tears. She was grown up after all. What came out were happy tears that mothers cried when their child left their hometowns.

And somewhere, in another child in a faraway land, Yggdrasil woke.

Good night, Xiuan.