#anyway i am annoyed that it’s literally safer for me at work compared to home

[lilgynt]

i don’t have the heart to tell my mom the scooter doesn’t work inside the house bc of the hoarding so i’ve been just limping with my broken foot and hoping for the best

[cdelphiki]

wait wait wait what’s this I hear about a fic where Damian and Tim are kidnapped and Tim is forced to do things or Damian gets tortured bc I don’t remember that WIP and it’s EXACTLY my cup of tea like holy frick did I literally prompt that I don’t know but it is 100% My Kind Of Fic -gremlin

:D I’ve been working on it since like November, I want to say.  It was born of a handful of whumptober prompts and quickly ballooned to be wayyyyy too long to write for whumptober.  But anyway, Tim and Damian get kidnapped while working a Human Trafficking case, lots of torture happens.  Some brainwashing.  It’s bad.  They’re missing a while.  (but not life happens-a while.  Like, less than a year, while) They grow very super close in the meantime.  Because nothing brings people together like trauma!

I’m still super torn on the title.  There’s a phrase said around here a lot in the spring, and it’s Finnish, and it means “The new snow will be the death of the old snow,” and I feel it’s fitting, but it’s in another language.  You know?  I’m afraid that’s too cliche and will turn people off from clicking on the fic. So if anyone has title suggestions, I’m all ears.  I might come up with the perfect answer as I keep working.   

But anyway. Here’s the first chapter, just for you!  💕

Untitled WIP, chapter 1

Going back in school was not something Tim had ever planned on doing.  When he took over as CEO at Wayne Enterprises almost a year ago, he figured his days in the classroom were over.  As thrilling as 10th grade was, CEO was pretty much as high up on the ladder he could get, and if he got there without a high school diploma, what on earth was the point?

But Bruce had been adamant.  Talked him down out of his full time work at WE and encouraged him to go back to school.  Despite Tim’s assurances that he did, indeed, have friends, Bruce seemed to think that being at school around ‘normal’ kids would be good for him.  

Maybe Bruce was right, because sometimes Tim really enjoyed school.  11th grade was remarkably easy and stress-free compared to work, even if Lucius or Tam still called him every once in a while.  Or often, actually, but they knew not to bother him before 3pm unless it was an absolute emergency.  Which meant Tim’s days at school were rather relaxing.

That didn’t mean Tim didn’t live for the final school bell, though, just like every other student in that overpriced building.  

“Tim,” he heard someone shout from down the hall as he was shoving his books into his backpack, antsy to leave for the weekend, “we need to get together and work on our presentation.”

“Nah,” Tim said, turning to whom he now recognized as Mike, his lab partner, “I got it done.  I’ll email you the slides now.  There are notes on each slide, just review it and we’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Mike said, running to catch up as Tim made his way out of the building, “You don’t want me to do anything?”

“Nothing to do,” Tim said, waving a hand as he finished attaching the file to an email, “presentations are easy.  I have marked what you have to say in class.”

“Wow, thanks man.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Tim said, turning toward the lower school where he needed to meet with Damian for pickup.

“We should hang out some time anyway,” Mike called after him, “I’ll text you.”

Tim shot back a peace sign, not even turning back to face Mike.  Because if he did, that would show the goofy smile he couldn’t contain as he bounded down the sidewalk. 

He almost felt…normal again.  Himself.  

Bruce was right.  Going back to school was a great idea.

Tim’s smile didn’t fade as he approached the pick-up area of the lower school.   That is, until he felt Damian approach him from behind.  It was like a sixth sense—a spidey sense—the way the back of his neck prickled whenever the brat was behind him. In reality, he’d probably actually heard Damian, and his subconscious was warning him of impending danger.  Which was unfair to Damian, maybe.  Since he hadn’t actually bodily harmed Tim in at least four hours.  

Fine.  Like three months. But still. 

“Drake,” Damian greeted in his usual flat, disinterested tone.  

“Gremlin,” Tim said, scanning over the line up of cars for Alfred.  There were over a dozen very nice, very expensive cars all along the road, mixed in with many more modest cars, but none of them belonged to Alfred.  Which was strange, because Alfred was usually one of the first in line.  

“It is unlike Pennyworth to be late,” Damian observed dryly, and Tim could hear the underlying tone of worry in the brat’s voice.  

Nodding, Tim scanned the cars again.  Then he saw it.  Bruce’s Tesla, about 15 cars back.  With a smile, Tim headed toward the car, uncaring whether Damian had noticed Bruce yet or not.  Now that they were in eyesight of Bruce, Damian was no longer his problem.  About ten seconds of babysitting was all he had to do that day.  It was a good day.

Damian, apparently, did notice Bruce.  Or, he at least followed Tim anyway toward the Tesla, and only reacted once Tim shouted, “Shotgun,” and quickly opened the passenger door and slid in. 

“Drake,” Damian hollared, scowl becoming more pronounced on his face as Tim grinned and shut the door between them. 

“That is unfair, I always have to sit in the back,” Damian grumbled after he opened the backdoor and slid in.

“That’s because you’re the baby,” Tim said, fastening his seatbelt and looking over at Bruce, “and tiny.  It’s safer for you in the back.”

Instead of react to their bickering, Bruce just grunted and pulled out into traffic. 

“I am not a baby,” Damian pouted, kicking at Tim’s seat, “and I am only a few inches shorter than you.”

“Well then, you should have called shotgun.”

“How was school?” Bruce asked in his gruff tone that signaled it was time to stop arguing, without him having to explicitly state that was the case.

“Fine,” Tim reported, pulling his tablet from his bag to settle back and read on the drive home.  He had a few reports to catch up on for work and he’d have to call Lucius once they got home to catch up on what happened while he was at school.

He was trying to let go of WE, honestly he was, but it was difficult.  And he enjoyed the work so much.

“Where is Pennyworth, Father?” Damian demanded.

Bruce sighed as he checked his mirrors while merging onto the highway.  “Running errands.  I offered to pick you up.”

“Why?” Damian said, now rifling through his backpack, likely for his sketchbook, if Tim knew the kid.  

“I can’t offer to pick you boys up?” Bruce asked, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.  

Tim smiled to himself as he opened up the next report to skim.  Bruce’s good moods were like sunshine in the middle of winter.  Warm and bright, lifting the mood of all those around him.  Today really was a good day.  

“Tt. You never have before.” 

“Actually, I do have an ulterior motive.”

“Shocker,” Tim mumbled, trying to get through the last report as fast as he could before Bruce demanded his attention.

“You know that case I’ve been working on for the past few months?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim clicked his tablet’s screen off and asked, “the human trafficking one?”

“I’ve got a lead,” Bruce said, grunting in the affirmative, “and I’m leaving tonight to follow it.”

Ah.  So Bruce wanted to get them alone, trapped in a car, to impress into them how important it was to not kill each other on Alfred’s watch.  Smart.  Because neither of them would remain in the room otherwise.

“Where are we going, Father?” 

Tim snorted, “Please, Damian.  Like he’s take us on a human trafficking case that’s dragging him outside the country.”

“Well, actually,” Bruce said before Damian could protest, “I wanted to bring you, Tim.”

“Me?” Tim asked at the same time Damian shouted, “Him?”

“Yes.  Your skills would be useful to-”

“But Father,” Damian shouted, leaning forward so his face was right between the passenger and driver’s seats, “I am Robin.  I am your partner.”

“You’re both Robin,” Bruce grumbled as he checked around him to shift lanes, “and I have more than one partner.”  

“It’s Batman and Robin, not Batman and Red Robin,” Damian protested, still right into Tim’s ear.

“Damian,” Bruce snapped, “sit back properly and fasten your seatbelt.”

“You can’t take Drake,” Damian continued ranting, even as he complied with Bruce’s order, “It’s not fair.  You never take me anywhere.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Bruce grumbled, “Tim, we’ll leave tonight.  I’ve already let the others know we’ll be away and asked them to watch Gotham in the meantime.”

“What about me, Father,” Damian asked, still demanding in his tone, his age shining through gloriously with his tantrum.  

“Damian,” Bruce said calmly, just to be cut off by Damian again.

“This isn’t fair.  Not only are you leaving me behind but you’re going to force me to stay in all weekend.  I follow your dumb rules about curfews on school nights, this isn’t fair.”

“Damian,” Bruce repeated, tensing some as he shifted his hands on the steering wheel.  Tim just sank down into his chair and grinned.  Bruce angry with Damian was one of his favorite things.  It was even better than Bruce’s good moods, because the little brat deserved to get yelled at sometimes. It always made Tim happy to actually hear one of the adults in their lives actually do it.

“Why are you bringing Drake?”  

Tim grunted when his seat was kicked again.

Bruce seemed undeterred by Damian’s outburst and said simply, “His skills are more suited to this case than yours.”  

“What skills?” Damian shrieked, “I am the superior Robin in every way.”

Tim let out an annoyed huff turned his tablet back on.  Yelling over, he was ready to get immersed back into his work. He was used to Damian’s verbal abuse, but wasn’t interested in hearing Bruce not defend him. 

No one ever defended him against Damian.

“I need someone clever and quick on his feet who will not be rash in his decisions.  This is a very sensitive case and a lot can go wrong if we move too quickly.”

“I’ve done human trafficking cases before,” Damian protested, “I can handle it.  I can do it!”

“Not like this one you haven’t.  A lot can go wrong, it’s too risky.”

“But Father,” Damian said, his voice coming dangerously close to whining and Bruce was having none of it.

“If you are hoping to convince me to bring you,” Bruce said, his voice hard, “throwing a tantrum is not the way to do it.  All you are proving to me is that you are a petulant child.”

Damian let out a growl and kicked at Tim’s seat one more time as he collapsed against his own seat.  “This isn’t fair,” Tim heard the kid mumble.  

“We will leave in a few hours, so when we get home I expect you to wrap up any business you have,” Bruce told Tim, as if there hadn’t just been an argument in the car, “pack warm clothes.  It’s still winter in Siberia.”

“Okay,” Tim agreed, typing out an email for Lucius in lieu of the call he had been planning on having, “when will we return?”

“Wednesday, at the earliest,” Bruce grunted, just as they pulled off the highway toward Bristol, “Friday at the latest.”

Nodding, Tim finished up the email and said, “Did you tell my school already?”

“Alfred will call on Monday.  I already filled him in on the details.”

“Father, please,” Damian said, much more calmly than anything he’d said thus far.

“No, Damian,” Bruce said gently, almost sadly, while still somehow making his words sound firm and unchangeable, “Not this time.”

The enraged screech Damian let out, however, was nothing near gentle.  Tim had to hide his smile again when he heard it, because it was about as close to throwing a tantrum Damian got.  At least, the crying kind of tantrum.  He stomped around and screamed a lot while throwing things, usually.  This just sounded like…. a kid.  Being mad his dad won’t buy him that new toy at Walmart.  

Amusing.

“Damian Wayne,” Bruce snapped, turning to face Damian while they were stopped at a traffic light, “I said no and that’s final. Keep this up and you’ll find yourself benched indefinitely.”

Bruce’s death glare was leveled at Tim for half a second when he accidentally snorted. But Tim could tell there was no real heat behind it.  Not for Tim, at least.  It kind of made it harder to not laugh.  

But the threat worked, and Damian went silent and still.  And remained like that for the rest of the drive home.  Tim managed to keep the smile off his face, a feat much harder than would be expected in an atmosphere so tense.  

Those good mood vibes from earlier hadn’t been squashed by Damian, and Tim would be hard pressed to say he was anything but happy.

“I hate you, Drake,” Damian eventually muttered, just as Bruce parked the car in the garage.  

Tim grinned widely and turned to face Damian, just so he could stick his tongue out at the brat.  An action that would have earned him a knife in the face, six months ago.  Now all it got him was another kick to his chair.  He might have been punched, though, had he not quickly retreated back to the safety of having the seat between them.

Bruce simply raised an eyebrow at Tim, adequately scolding him for his behavior without even opening his mouth.

But then, of course, Bruce did open his mouth, too once they’d gotten out of the car. “If you’re going to act like a child-”

“No,” Tim said hastily, slinging his bag on his back, “you already invited me.  No take backs.”

“No take backs?” Bruce echoed, this time not masking the slight upturn of his lips, “Tim, what’s gotten into you?”

Tim just grinned and said, “Nothing.”  

“Well,” Bruce said, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulder as they walked.  Much slower than Damian’s stride, when he’d run into the Manor the second the car doors unlocked, “It’s nice.  To see you like this.”

When all Tim did was smile, because heck yeah, it was nice to feel that way, too, Bruce pat his back and then pushed him forward, “Go on.  Wrap things up, pack a bag.  We leave at 6.”

So Tim did.  Even as he listened to Damian throw crap around in his bedroom, just on the other side of the wall from Tim’s, he cheerfully packed a bag.  

Because between having a great day at school, making new friends, and getting a rare good mood from Bruce, Tim was already doing pretty well.  His days of depression felt pretty well gone and dead.  But take all that and add it to going on a week long trip with just him a Bruce? Something that hadn’t happened in years? Something he once thought would never happen again?

Yeah.

Tim was pretty damn ecstatic. 

[veryangryhedgehog]

"The Personal History of Lucius Marcell Part II: Fire on the Mountain, in both a Metaphorical and very Literal Sense", and Ede Valley story by Hedgehog.

The Personal History of Lucius Marcell Part II

(Fire on the Mountain, in both a Metaphorical and very Literal Sense)

Cindy had been Marcell’s TA for a few weeks now, and the position was surprisingly less weird than she’d anticipated. She made copies for him, helped him grade quizzes, boring things mostly; she could see why he wanted to sluff them off onto a TA. But she didn’t mind all that much. The company made it worth it.

Marcell was quite unlike anyone Cindy had met. It was hard to put into words, the only way she could really think to put it was “honest.” He hid behind no walls and kept no deep secrets—barring the obvious, of course. This didn’t seem to be from any confidence or ego. More than anything, Marcell just seemed too tired to care.

It was a little funny, sometimes, when he complained like an old geezer. “I swear, kids these days and those new portable telephones,” he shook his head one day. “I had to confiscate three of them today. Three!”

“Is the ever-advancing march of technology leaving you in the dust, old man?” Cindy asked, glancing up from the quiz she was marking.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve kept up just fine for the last two-thousand years.” Marcell narrowed his eyes. “I am the epitome of current.”

“Uh huh. That sweater vest just screams ‘current’.”

Marcell plopped down behind his desk, pouting. “My sweater vest is cool,” he insisted. “And don’t forget, I came from a time when togas were the height of fashion, so cut me some slack.”

“Speaking of togas,” Cindy leaned forward, putting on her best resting bitch face, “are you ever going to continue your story? You promised me Pompeii, you know.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Marcell’s face dropped a little. “I was sort of hoping you’d forget. It’s not a very pleasant story.”

Shrugging, Cindy stared back at him. “Life isn’t pleasant. I’m not here for sunshine and rainbows.”

He laughed. “You’re a rather, strange person, you know that?”

“Speak for yourself,” she raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Most people your age aren’t so... objective.”

Cindy made a face. “I’m not like most people my age. Now: the story. Pompeii?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, but he still examined her for a second longer before continuing. “Pompeii, Pompeii, where to start? Pompeii was... different from Rome. It was a pretty small town, actually, at least compared to Rome. There was plenty of hustle and bustle, of course, but it was a much... slower city. I liked that. The first time I visited I was studying the volcano, Vesuvius, as you should know, and I enjoyed the town so much that I eventually bought a house there.”

“So what was it like? The city?” Cindy specified.

“Most everything was made of stone,” Marcell continued, “from the buildings to the well-worn streets. But it was far from drab. Many people hung bright awnings from their facades, and the shops and taverns were all open out onto the streets. There was also a lot of very colorful graffiti all over the walls.”

Laughing, Cindy snorted. “Graffiti? In Ancient Rome?”

“Well, yes,” he chuckled along. “What, you thought it a modern invention? People have always been bored. Some of it was your basic ‘Titus was here,’ but I remember a specific case at the back of a tavern. Oh what was it?” Marcell glanced upwards. “Oh, yes: ‘Cicero does shit as the rest of us do.’”

They both began to laugh louder, Cindy almost falling off her chair. “Wow, that’s, I never imagined, but yeah I guess that makes sense.”

“What does?”

“Just that toilet humor isn’t a modern concept.” Cindy shrugged. “Like, it’s hard to imagine a guy in a toga farting, you know?”

“Time dulls knowledge,” Marcell said sagely. “I can imagine the smell of the city just thinking about it.”

“Was it that bad?”

"Worse," he grimaced. “Not only were most people tossing their waste into the street, but add in the horses and carts and other things and... ugh.” Marcell shuttered. “At the time is was just daily life, but looking back on it, I don’t know how I stood it.”

Cindy gasped dramatically. “Are you in danger of being Modernized, old man?”

Though he tried to look annoyed, Marcell couldn’t help grinning a little. “Shut up.”

“So, Pompeii,” Cindy redirected, “colorful, raunchy, and smelly.”

“For the most part. But it was just like any city,” Marcell continued. “It had its nice parts too. If you were rich, you could have a large house, an ocean view, the works.”

“And you were?”

“Somewhere in between.” Marcell confirmed. “I wasn’t knee deep in shit, yet those ocean views were still a mere dream. Not that it mattered much, of course. I still travelled most of the time, but it was nice to have a place to come back to.”

“So you lived alone, then?”

Marcell shook his head. “Hardly anyone in Rome lived alone. I had... no, they weren’t slaves. I never bought them, and I never exercised the type of control slave owners held. I guess servants is a better word, though it still doesn’t really fit. A mother and a daughter, they were—Aurelia and Julia were their names. Aurelia had broken her foot several years before I met them, and it hadn’t healed correctly, so she couldn’t work.

“I found the two of them on the street. Julia had been sick, and I decided to take them in. After Julia was better, we came to an arrangement: Aurelia and Julia would take care of the house, mostly while I was away, and I would provide a moderately comfortable life for the both of them.”

“Okay, I feel less weird now,” Cindy admitted. “But I have a question. Why those two? I mean, there have to have been thousands of beggars in Rome.”

Pausing, Marcell thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just something about the sight of them in the gutter, it was... Julia’s eyes. She looked so scared, I think... I think she reminded me of myself I little. But, you wanted to hear about death and destruction, yes?”

“I want to hear about some other things,” Cindy shrugged. “But mostly death and destruction, yes. So, were you there? When Vesuvius went boom?” She gestured vaguely with her hands.

“Yes, I was,” Marcell nodded. “I had just returned from a trip to Gaul the night before. I mostly travelled when it was dark, for obvious reasons. But the city was far from dead. There was still the late crowd in the taverns, pinpricks of light and noise in the oceans of darkness that surrounded them, and of course carts with various goods and supplies trundled down the cobbled streets. They weren’t allowed in the city during the day for the most part, they never would have gotten anywhere with the amount of people in the streets anyway.

“I rode through the city quickly on horseback, weary from travel and eager to return home. I’ll admit that I... never really adjusted fully to sleeping during the day.”

“You don’t now.” Cindy scoffed. “Wait a minute: how do you get to school? Can’t the sun kill you?”

Marcell nodded. “When I’m lucky, it’s cloudy. When it’s not, I wear a very big hat. But we’re getting off track.” He shook himself. “My home was not the biggest or grandest house by any means, but it was in a quiet part of town and just fine enough for me.

“I rode around the back, and left the horse in the small stable before heading inside through the garden. Roman houses were built a little differently than their modern counterparts,” he stopped to explain. “The rooms weren’t quite so... differentiated, I guess you could say. I didn’t have a ‘living room’ or an ‘office.’ There was one big room called the atrium, and several smaller rooms off of that. And the atrium could be used for any number of things. You remember this from class, yes?”

“I think so.” Cindy nodded. “It always confused me, but go on.”

“The atrium was dark and empty; the lanterns had long since gone out, which was fine with me. It made sensing heat easier. Aurelia was in the kitchen, but my journey had been long. It would be safer for everyone if I... ate before seeing her. I had gained a reputation for having the most vermin free house in the city, and no one could quite figure out how I did it.” He laughed.

“Afterwards, I went to check on Aurelia in the kitchen. By the light of the coals still burning in the hearth, I could see that she had fallen asleep, her slender frame draped over a counter. She tended to wait up for me when she knew I was coming home. I’d told her many times that she should just go to sleep, but she kept the habit anyway.

“I pulled up a chair, and shook her gently.

“‘Oh sir, you’re home.’ She smiled as she blinked awake. She had a very lovely smile. ‘Welcome back. You’ll want dinner, I suppose.’ I don’t need to eat, of course, but she had clearly put effort into the chicken on the coals so I humored her.”

“She didn’t know you were a vampire?” Cindy asked.

Shaking his head, Marcell seemed a little regretful. “It was right about that time that I was trying to figure out how to tell them. They’d been with me for several years, and it was going to become apparent very soon that I wasn’t aging as they were. But I could never find the right way to tell them. Of course I... I never got the chance.”

He paused, and Cindy stayed quiet, giving him a moment. With a blink, he snapped himself out of whatever reverie he found himself in. “I asked her if Julia was asleep, and she nodded.

“‘Yes, upstairs.’”

“‘You should join her.’

“‘Thank you sir, I—‘

“But she didn’t finish, because just then the ground began to rumble beneath our feet. Dishes rattled, stones cracked. It only lasted for a minute, yet it felt like much longer.

“‘What was that?’ I asked once it had finished.

“Aurelia’s hand was to her chest. ‘Just another earthquake. Nothing to fear.’

“‘Another—?’

“‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘There have been several over the last few days. Not very large, but many people have been fleeing the city.’

“I shook my head. ‘Cowards.’”

Cindy tried not to chuckle at the irony, and found it a challenge.

“Then Julia popped her head through the kitchen door. She was about eight, and had long, curly brown hair, just like her mother. ‘Momma...’

“‘Yes, I’m coming. I think it’s time we all go to sleep.’

“I smiled when she glanced over at me. ‘I’ll be to bed in a few minutes. Go on.’

“She and Julia went up to bed, and after cleaning up from my supper, I retired to the library. Now, I was not the most affluent person in the city, as I’ve said, but I made space for all my books and scrolls. I was about, oh... a little over a hundred at that point, so most of them were my own notes from my travels, but some were from other scholars as well, many of whom I kept in contact with. I was particularly interested in the lost city of Atlantis.”

“You were?” Cindy interjected. “I never would have guessed. It’s not like you spent have a semester going on and on about it or anything.”

“Sarcasm is not becoming of a young lady,” he intoned.

“Aw, shove it up your butt. Anyway, you were saying?”

Marcell looked like he wanted to get the last word in, but let it go. “Right, Atlantis. I don’t know why it fascinated me so. Perhaps it was because contrary to popular belief, it was actually located off the coast of the British Isles. It made me feel a little closer to my old home, maybe.”

“You sound like... like you’ve actually seen it,” Cindy said.

Shrugging, Marcell smiled mysteriously. “Perhaps, but I think some secrets would do best to remain so for now.

“Regardless, that night, I fell asleep on the noted that I was writing.” He paused, looking off into the distance. “If only I’d had a little more warning, I could have probably saved some of them. That was the last peaceful night I would have for quite a while.”

“Because of the volcano...” Cindy added quietly.

Marcell nodded. “The next thing I remembered, it was light, and someone was shaking me. I blinked, and saw Aurelia, looking panicked. Behind her, Julia was crying.

“‘Wha’s wrong?’ I asked.

“‘Sir it’s... the mountain.’ She pointed to the small window on the far side of the room and I glanced towards it. Because it was so bright, I figured it was sunny out. But I was wrong. The sky was so filled with ash and dust that you couldn’t even see the sun. The light was coming from the fire that was falling from the sky, burning the buildings around us. Everywhere, everything was on fire. Vesuvius was erupting.

“It was suicide, but we had to move. If we stayed here, we would be burned or buried alive. I wasn’t sure if even I could survive that.

“‘Grab whatever you can.’ I commanded Aurelia. ‘Meet me by the back. We need to get to the water.’

“We were lucky. My house wasn’t too far away from the marine gate. I gathered up any papers I considered important, the hardest decision of my life. Many people had left most of their belongings, thinking to return once the tragedy had passed.” He shook his head. “But it was all lost. My library wasn’t the only one in Pompeii. So much knowledge that we’ll never get back. And that doesn’t even begin to cover the people.”

“Haven’t archaeologists found a way to make plaster casts out of the impressions peoples’ bodies left in the rock or something like that?” Cindy asked.

“Yes,” Marcell almost whispered. “But I haven’t dared look myself. I’m afraid I’ll... see someone I recognize.” He shook himself. “Anyway, Aurelia and I met in the atrium, and I hoisted Julia onto my back. The hardest part was leaving. We opened the door, and a wall of dust and fire awaited us.

“I blinked, trying to find a path through the smothering gloom. But while I may have been able to last awhile amidst the torrent, Aurelia and Julia could not. I shifted Julia from my back to my arms in order to shield her from the heat, and at that moment, my eyes caught a shaded doorway half a block down the direction we were headed.

“I grabbed Aurelia’s hand and we ran. The dust stung my face and throat, and my skin tingled from the light that breached the clouds. It took us longer than I would have liked, as Aurelia limped on her bad foot. But we made it. My chest burned from the dust I had taken in, and Aurelia heaved beside me. Julia was crying.

“Aurelia took the child’s face between her hands and pressed their foreheads together. ‘It’s going to be alright.’ She was almost crying herself.

“By this point, larger rocks had begun to fall as well. ‘We need to keep moving,’ I coughed out as the roof above us cracked ominously.

“So we ran. We kept running for a long time, jumping from safe spot to safe spot. Increasingly around us, the buildings were crumbling or already destroyed. We were going far too slowly. But Aurelia was having trouble keeping up. As we crouched under a fallen column laying on the ruin of a shop, she held up a hand.

“‘Wait! Please. I need a minute,’ she wheezed.

“We didn’t have the time, but there was nothing else to do. I set Julia down and she immediately buried her face in her mother’s skirt.

“For a minute, the only sounds were the crumbling city and Julia’s muffled sobs. I looked around, wondering briefly if this was all just some dream, or nightmare. It didn’t seem real. Just last night the city had been bustling, alive, and in twenty-four hours it had been transformed into a living hell.

“‘Alright,’ Aurelia said finally. ‘I’m ready.’

“But just as we were about to move again, the ground began to rumble under us. The column began to shake. I picked up Julia who had begun to wheeze from the dust, and grabbed Aurelia’s hand. I tried to pull us all forward, but before all of us were clear, the marble came down.

“For a moment I gripped Aurelia’s hand, so afraid to turn around. I could smell the blood, and my mouth watered, despite myself. Finally, I couldn’t stand there anymore. I turned back, and had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. From the waist down, Aurelia had been completely crushed by the pillar. Julia screamed. All I could do was stare.

“‘Lucius!’ she coughed through the blood dripping from her mouth. ‘Get Julia to safety.’

“‘I—’

“Julia was squirming in my arms, crying and coughing as she tried to get to her mother. Her coughing had gotten bad, there was dust and smoke everywhere.

“‘Go. Don’t worry about me.’ There was fire in her eyes. She didn’t even seem to be in any pain. ‘Julia’s the only thing that matters.’”

There was silence in the classroom. Marcell stared off towards the window. Cindy stared a hole into her lap. She didn’t know how long they sat there, before she was finally able to break away and ask: “So, what did you do?”

“I ran,” he turned back to her. “She was right, of course. There was nothing I could do for her now, and Julia wasn’t going to last much longer in this dust. The child kicked and screamed, of course, begged me to turn around. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all I could say, over and over again.

"I didn't stop for a moment, shielding Julia from the debris as best I could. My back and arms were singed from the burning dust and ash, and everywhere we looked were bodies, some half crushed, some burned beyond recognition. All of their faces were frozen in the final moments of terror that had surely befallen them. But none of that mattered now. The gate was finally in sight, the bay just beyond it. Behind us, the city was collapsing bit by bit, consumed by the flames.

“There was a boat, a small, wooden one, tied to the docks. From the sheer number of bodies behind us, not many people had made it this far, so I took it. I doubted the owners were going to come for it anytime soon. Julia had long since stopped struggling, and didn’t do much more than moan as I lay her in the bottom of the boat and started rowing as the sky darkened to night around us. The only thing I could do now was get as far away from the city as possible.

“Taking stock, I seemed fine besides a few burns, but Julia didn’t look well. She seemed to be having great trouble breathing, her small chest heaving in and out far too rapidly.”

“What... happened to her?” Cindy asked quietly.

“I’m not exactly sure, but I believe it was the dust,” Marcell grimaced. “It had coated her lungs, and was so hot that it had probably burned them. I was alright because I was a full-grown man and it does take an awful lot to kill me anyway. But Julia was an eight-year-old girl.

“She lay there in the bottom of the boat, just trying to breathe. Her eyes were closed, yet I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not. So I just kept rowing down the coast. It was the only thing I could do. Eventually the waters and the sky—from what I could see—calmed. I was so out of it that I didn’t even notice she was there until she had begun to speak.”

Cindy blinked. “She? You... you mean Death, don’t you?”

“‘Lovely night for a ride,’ she said, and I nearly jumped as I saw her milky, dead eyes just a few inches away from me. She sat calmly in the boat, as if it was a pleasant afternoon row.

“‘What are you doing here?’

“She shrugged. ‘Oh, you know, just harvesting the souls of thousands of these poor bastards. Haha, I am so tired.’

“‘So go back to the city then, there’s plenty of dead there.’

“‘Ah, but I’m here for a very special soul.’ She grinned cruelly. Sometimes I think she takes special joy in hanging over my head.

“I moved to shield Julia. I was untouchable now, of course, which left the child as the only thing in the vicinity that Death could take. ‘You stay away from her.’

“‘Too late,’ she shook her head. ‘That dust’s long since poisoned her lungs. I give her twenty-four hours at most. So tragic when the young ones are taken.’ Here smile did not make her seem wholly sincere.

“‘Then what are you doing here now?’

“‘Torturing you more,’ she cackled. ‘No, more than anything I’m curious about what you’ll do. You see, I’m going to give you a choice. That girl is going to die, so you could leave her agony for a whole day, or you could end her life right now.’

“‘What kind of choice is that?’

“‘There is a third option, of course,’ she wheedled. ‘You could always... make her as you are.’ I was silent, speechless. ‘Oh, don’t give me that look, it’s not that hard. You just drain her dry and give her some of your own blood and there you have it.’

“Clearly this was the option she wanted me to take.”

“So, did you do it?” Cindy asked hesitantly.

“Of course I didn’t,’ Marcell said, a bit of disdain present in his tone. “This isn’t some gothic romance. I wouldn’t wish my curse on anyone, let alone an eight-year-old girl. Can you imagine what it would be like to be eight for eternity?”

Cindy nodded thoughtfully. “Horrible, I’d imagine. But if you didn’t turn her, what did you do?”

“I stared Death in the face, shouted something very profane that does not translate well from its original Latin, and I killed Julia. I can’t drain most adults to the point of death under usual circumstances, but she was very small. Though I tried to make her death as painless as possible, I’m sure it was very terrifying. I saw her open her eyes for a moment and stare at me; I’m not sure if she even understood what was happening. And then she was gone, the light left her eyes, and she became limp in my arms.

“Death laughed as I wiped the blood from my chin. ‘So defiant, Marcellus. You’re more fun than I could have ever hoped for.’

“I blinked, and she was gone, her voice echoing across the water. ‘I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.’

“And that’s the story, mostly. Once the eruption had ceased I found my way back to the ruins of Pompeii briefly to salvage what I could, and make proper arrangements for Aurelia and Julia’s bodies. The house was completely buried, most of my manuscripts destroyed, and once again, I was all alone. I’ve never really had a home like that since.”

“So you just wandered? For two-thousand years?” Cindy asked.

Marcell nodded. “I’d settle down in one place or another occasionally, but never for long.”

“I can see why. Everyone you meet is just gonna die on you anyway.”

“When you’re as old as I am, you learn to appreciate things while you have them. That was what Pompeii taught me. Back then, every loss was a tragedy, now... maybe I’m just used to it.”

Cindy shifted in her chair. “So I suppose you’ll only stick around here for a few more years and then move on, huh?”

“Maybe. Who knows what the future holds?” He shrugged.

“I have a question,” Cindy raised her hand lazily. “Why here? I mean, you’ve been to Rome and Pompeii and may or may not have discovered Atlantis. This can’t be very interesting for you.”

He smiled. You’d be surprised. This town has a certain... strangeness about it. You could say that draws people like me.”

“Like what?” Cindy giggled. “Do the Outback Steak Houses form a pentagram or something?”

“I don’t know,” he laughed along. “Take the spiders for instance. They just seem a little too big and a little too hairy. Things like that. Look, there’s one over there.”

He pointed across the room and Cindy jumped as she turned to see a large, brown spider scuttling coyly across the tile. “I hate spiders,” she growled. Pointing her finger at the spider, Cindy muttered something unintelligible, and a burst of flame shot out from the appendage, straight towards the spider. It promptly burnt to a crisp, collapsing into a pile of ash. Cindy blew the smoke from her finger. “Now that’s what I call char-broiled.”

“Wha—“ Marcell blinked. “What was that?”

Cindy froze. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have done that.” She sighed, turning back to him. “And here I was gonna let you think you were the weird one for a little longer.”

“As your teacher,” he tried to put on a serious face. “I think I have a right to demand an explanation.” It didn’t work.

“Would you believe that I made a deal with a demon for unholy powers?”

He blinked again. “That makes even less sense.”

“Would it help if that was the reason for my sudden and inexplicable change in personality?”

“I’m gonna need more than that.” Marcell frowned. “Tell me the whole story.”

“Okay,” Cindy grimaced. “But it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“Life isn’t pretty,” he said, smiling devilishly.

“Touché.” Cindy took a moment to gather her thoughts, staring out the classroom window while Marcell waited. “Alright then. It happened two years ago...”

[takerfoxx]

“Fires of the Sun: Epilogue” Thoughts

All right, let’s wrap this up.

Okay, starting things off with Yukari's scene, her bits with Byakuren and the remaining SDM crew are pretty self-explanatory and don't require a whole lot of commentary. I am going to say that I actually have no idea where Sakuya's character development is going to take her, save that this sort of quiet, reserved, no fucks given madness thing she has going on right now is…sort of intriguing. She's gone beyond rage, beyond grief, beyond hate, and is, at that moment, more dangerous than she's ever been. And though I haven't planned where it's going to take her just yet, I am interested in finding out.

Bringing Koakuma back was always a given, though the manner went through some changes. Originally I had planned for Shinki to be the one to receive the request and have her reject it out of hand because of rules or some such, only for Yukari to show an uncharacteristic amount of kindness and snap at her, causing Shinki to relent. However, some last minute changes in the previous chapter meant that Shinki was no longer available, so that scene unfortunately had to go. I also was thinking of having Koakuma still be wearing her Serpentine Marauder uniform upon being summoned back. Theor natural consequence of that would of course have Yukari recognize it, draw some unfortunate conclusions, and immediately start interrogating the poor little devil. Honestly that would have been the better choice, as it opens up numerous plot and character opportunities, but at the time I was tired and didn't want to expand things any more than they already were, so I just had her show up naked like a proper summoned succubus and left it at that. The poor girl was already having a rough day anyway.

The final bit with Satori and co. gave me some issues. At that point, I was growing concerned about the runtime of Yukari's scene, especially when compared to the later ones, and felt that her having a third encounter would make it a little tedious, and considered giving it its own section. However, that disrupted the flow of how these loose end scenes were being set up, and everyone was already there anyway, so screw it. Fortunately, in reading it over, it wasn't as bad as I feared, so that worked out. Also, originally I was just going to have her yank Jun and Utsuho over in a couple of sentences, but given what Utsuho had been through, she deserved a little more. However, her scene with Jun was in danger of running too long, as they started to have a serious discussion of their relationship thus far and Jun's bullying of her, and while that would have been interesting, the focus at that moment needed to be on Satori's return, so it was trimmed. But in doing so, it seems a little abrupt and out of place, so perhaps that wasn't a fantastic idea after all.

As for Satori herself, she should thank her lucky stars that her original plotline got scrapped. It was a little awkward dividing her time between her affectionate pets and talking to Yukari. I still get a kick out of her mind-reading answering all of her question instantaneously, and am very glad that that's back. I did have to use my mental wayback machine to recall everything that she wouldn't know as well as everything she should know and remind myself that she did get a good look at Yuuka's true form. Also, I don't care how much he's slipped out of relevancy. Soulja Boy will always remain a form of torture.

The scene from Yuuka's POV (or what's left of her) was short, but worked very well. I'm not really one for flowery, poetic language. Slightly sarcastic and to the point is more my style. But I did try to slow things down and get a little verbose when trying to describe Yuuka's condition. After all, Mima's lovely speech to her was only going to be a few paragraphs, and I really wanted to drive home just how unbelievably broken she was. I mean, the burns are one thing, but Yuuka is have now officially fallen off the crazy tree and hit every branch along the way. Funny thing about her fourth wall breaking thing: originally, it was done simply to set up some gags in the future, have her interrupt the author's notes and stuff like that. But the execution proved to be even bigger than I had expected, and once it was there and started to get a lot of attention, I realized that now I had gone through with it, I needed to take it seriously. Having her be a Deadpool sort of character cracking postmodern, self-referential jokes wasn't going to do it. And going the full Stephen King route of having her break into our world and kill me or something like that would be too honky.

So instead of just making it be a silly thing or drive her to do something way over the top, I decided to let that one peek she got be the whole plotline. That was all she was ever going to see. There wasn't going to be any cutting into other Gensokyos, no entering our world, no including me as a character, outside of those talking directly to the audience bits. She was just going to get a quick look, long enough to realize what was going on, and have it bring everything crashing down on her. Her status as a fictional character was going to literally drive her nuts, cause her to question everything, have an existential crisis, and essentially drive her mad, which is pretty ironic, considering what she is. She would try to deal, become obsessed with storytelling conventions, and over time delude herself into believing that she was the main character. And as such, Yidhra the Outer God, a being beyond comprehension who would literally drive lesser mortals insane by her mere existence, was in turn driven mad herself by something she couldn't understand. Karma, baby.

Reimu's scene was to establish how tense the whole battle would have been to something unable to participate. She, Reisen, and Remilia filled the roles of worried loved ones stuck at home, desperately waiting for any sort of news. And as is my wont, that news was delivered in the silliest manner possible. Y'know, the whole Tengu newspaper business has a lot of fun possibilities. I've been frequently annoyed by clickbait sites like Knowable and whatnot as of late and how irritating their set-up is that I realized how much the Tengu would love such a set-up. Steal other people's stories, compile them under a huge, annoyingly attention grabbing title, and then cut them up in the most irritating way possible to squeeze every cent out of advertisers. And you ever notice that when they say stuff like, "Number three is shocking!", the actual number three doesn't really stand out all that much from the others?

Though that aside, you really have to feel for Remilia here. Her whole humble pie arc was intended to break her down from being a smug snake and make her a more sympathetic character, but damn did it go far. As for Reimu, I'm not too sure where her story is going to go from here. I mean, I know what part she'll be playing during the big climatic scenes in the future, but as for how she'll handle the news of Mima's heel turn or anything involving Rin Satsuki or her friends or whatever, I have no idea. Will she stay at the shrine or will Yukari end up moving her somewhere safer? Will Alice get to teach her magic or not? What is she going to do with her time until the shit hits the fan again? I just don't know yet, but I look forward to finding out.

On a side note, I did plan a cutaway to Alice and Shanghai, but realized that I didn't have anything for them to do that would add to the chapter, so it got cut. We can always catch up with them later.

And then we get to Rin's scene. This one was a big hodgepodge of points I needed to hit and trying to weave them all together. Okay, Flandre had to acknowledge the trauma of losing her old friends, check. Some banter with Rumia, check. Seija got knocked out again so she doesn't ruin the scene, check. Daiyousei's still got her snowglobe because the hell I'm gonna let it get left behind, check. Kogasa's still crushing on Wriggle, check. Doremy gets a proper introduction (and finally an accurate description of her tail) and helps Rumia sleep while making Rin jealous, check. And all the kids had to finally get named as well. I already knew that Kogasa, Doremy, Sekibanki, Kurumi, Seija, and I guess Sara would be among them. As for the rest, I had already discarded Clownpiece (too strong), the Prismrivers (unlikely to be there), anyone not a loli for…obvious reasons, or anyone part of any specific cast herd. I briefly considered Ringo, but didn't really feel like it. I did scour the remaining PC-98 characters, so that's why there were so many demons. Hey, Yuuka's been to Makai before. To fill in the remaining slots, we had Rengeteki as the obligatory fairy and the glasses-wearing Kappa from the Kappa mob. I almost added one of the nameless PC-98 midbosses, but decided to go for the Kappa instead.

And on aside, Doremy's introductory scene was a hoot. I'm not a huge fan of the newer characters, but she was a lot of fun. She and Cirno are going to get along just fine.

Then we get to the final bit, where Rin discovers the bodies of her parents (and yes, that's what they were, everyone already knows it so I'm not spoiling anything). No real behind the scenes thing with that. It just felt like an appropriate way to wrap up her arc before the hiatus, having her return to the place where her story began and finally get some closure with her origins, even if she hasn't figured out who they were.

In regards to lady Meika, again I can't really talk about who she is and how she's connected to the plot, save that she is something that several characters' individual plotlines are building up to, and her bits take place long after Imperfect Metamorphosis's finale. I did drop several hints though, a few of which have already been picked up on. Not all though.

And then, at last we cut back to Hina, who's been conspicuously missing ever since the Shadow Youkai got sucked out of Rin. That was deliberate, as I wanted her scene to be a surprise, as a final, dark reminder that Rumia Yagami isn't gone for good just yet. Anyway, remember how I mentioned being stunned that I was finally getting to write a scene that had been planned years and years ago? Well, this was that scene, and it felt eerie to finally get to do it.

Though on another aside, I tried to make the whole author notes breakdown even wonkier, even to the point of including ASCII art and weirder formatting. Alas, went and ate it all up. Stupid limited formatting options.

So yeah. That's it. That wraps up Fires of the Sun. Looking back, I'm really happy with how it came out. Were there weak spots and areas that could have been done differently and done better? Yes. Where there parts that I skimped due to, and let's face it, laziness? Yes. Did it surpass The Storm as intended? I'm…not sure. The thing to remember is that when The Storm happened, it was sort of a trendsetter for this story and, and this is going to sound arrogant, for Touhou fics in general. I got a ton of notice in the English Touhou fandom for that mini-arc, mainly due to the surprise inclusion of Lovecraftian elements and Yuuka's big fourth wall break. Also a lot of controversy as well, but hey, free publicity. But that was years ago, back when IM was still on the rise. Now the hype's died down, people have gotten used to it being around, so it just doesn't have the same impact as before. It was more of wrapping things up from that big shocker rather than being another big shocker. Marisa's death came close, but not really to the same level.

So no, I don't think Fires of the Sun matched the impact of The Storm. It's more polished perhaps, and maybe the fight scenes flow better, but it doesn't have the newness The Storm had. But that's okay. This was for everyone who stuck around to see what would happen, a way of bringing about some measure of closure before putting this ginormous story on the shelf. And in that regard, I feel it succeeded nicely.

So…I guess that's it. Wow, okay, Imperfect Metamorphosis is now officially on hiatus. Thank you all so much for reading, and be sure to stick around! More stuff for Subconscious is to come!

Cheers, everyone!