#because he’s never given the chance to properly heal and recover by both the other characters and himself (and bad writing)

[gbirrd]

6/9 - Jason Todd tarot card designs for Complete Candor by @vexfulfolly as part of the @batfam-big-bang

Read the fic here!

Other cards:

1-Babs 2-Cass 3-Bruce 4-Tim 5-Damian 6-Jason 7-Duke 8-Steph 9-Dick

Image IDs

Image 1:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL". A symbol of a gravestone is visible behind the numeral "XV".

A young Jason Todd in his Robin uniform tugs at a thick chain around his neck that comes down from the top of the frame. Matching shackles are around his wrists and he is buried up to his waist in dirt. His head is tilted up towards the chain. There is blood on his hands, arms, chest, and dripping down the right side of his face as well as from his nose.

Image 2:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL" upside-down. A symbol of a flame is visible behind the numeral "XV".

Jason Todd faces forward, filling most of the frame. He is in his Red Hood uniform and has narrowed pupil-less white eyes. He is holding the end of a thick chain in his right fist. Flames fill the background and bathe him in an orange light. The entire card is upside-down.

[rebrandedstoryline]

Rebranded - 12.1 - Learning Process

Sun starts to learn about Ayala - and Ayala starts to learn about the animatronics

Word Count: 2,200

The days spent learning to coexist eventually transitioned into a fortnight.

Logan made appearances here and there, intent on assuring that Ayala was recovering properly. He would check in to see what she might need help with during her recovery period. He was the one to take her car to the mechanic for repairs. He was the one to do the bulk of the grocery shopping. The pantry was kept stocked. While Sun and Moon would have happily accepted any food available as fuel, they had not yet had the chance to discuss such anything with Ayala.

She was the one paying for the food that Logan brought home. Though she had agreed to provide them with shelter and security in exchange for their assistance, she had never explicitly agreed to feed them.

Primarily because she had not yet been made aware of the fact that the animatronics could eat.

The technology used to convert matter into fuel was generally unheard of on such a small scale. The converters were usually used in larger facilities, such as grocery stores or power plants.

The difference was that Sun and Moon were not converting large amounts of matter into energy to be stored in external cells for later use. Consumed matter was immediately converted into energy. They had limited room to store extra power.

Fazbear Entertainment had most definitely pulled some strings in order to arrange for certain animatronics to be equipped with this advanced fuel converting technology.

Ergo, the odds of either Ayala or Logan guessing that the animatronics had such complicated equipment installed was laughably low.

Sun had taken to keeping himself charged by plugging into the nearest outlet for a few minutes at a time. The process itself wasn’t complicated, considering he would effectively jam the tip of his finger into the socket. He wasn’t able to charge much over such a brief period of time, but he was able to keep himself in a functional state.

Moon, on the other hand, had taken a different route. He didn’t ask for permission to eat. He readily ate anything suitable to provide a charge. Namely because he wasn’t eating anything suitable for human consumption.

He and Sun had been given this special upgrade in order to allow them to function as walking trash disposals. So he was able to comfortably maintain a charge by eating the things that would otherwise be thrown away during meal prep. Egg shells, plastic, paper, and inedible fruit and vegetable scraps; all were examples of things he would consume.

The only real rule was simple. No metal and no glass. He could not break those things down to convert them into fuel.

It wasn’t exactly a pleasant way to maintain a charge, but it was easier. Easier and more efficient than jamming his fingers into a power outlet multiple times a day.

Besides that, he was acting as a trash disposal. So he was fulfilling his end of the deal with Ayala and benefiting from it in the process.

But as it were, the arrangement would not be suitable long term. Today would likely be the day that Ayala was informed about their unique situation.

Given the amount of time that had passed, her shoulder had finally healed. So she was over and done with bed rest.

In other words, she no longer needed to be taken care of.

For the most part, Logan had been the one preparing meals in advance. He had started doing so after Sun’s sub-par cooking abilities were revealed. Something which he was rightly annoyed about, given that Sun was supposed to be able to take care of her.

He was given a convincing enough excuse.

Sun was still a relatively new animatronic. His AI hadn’t been properly calibrated yet. Sun was programmed to be able to take care of both children and adults. He just needed some help in differentiating between “child care” and “adult care”. The process would take time. Logan accepted that explanation as the truth.

The reality was that Sun had no idea how to care for an adult. He didn’t know how to cook. He didn’t know how to interact with an adult as an adult. His only experience with adults had revolved around childcare. He was genuinely lost and needed to learn how to behave now that he had escaped Fazbear.

So watching Logan cook became one of the ways that the daytime attendant learned. He learned how to prepare meals that were more befitting of adult tastes.

As an AI, he was very smart. He could effectively recreate anything that he watched the man prepare, with minimal practice.

Unfortunately, though, it was looking as though Sun would have no use for this knowledge. Not right now, at least.

Now that Ayala was able to get up and safely cook for herself, he had no reason to cook.

The idea alone admittedly made him sad. He had now realized that all of his recent efforts would never have any sort of payoff. Ultimately, he had wasted his time. He had missed his opportunity to prove himself.

All he wanted was to give her a meal that she wouldn’t laugh at.

In the few times that he had made her a snack while she was recovering, she had always laughed at it. She laughed at it before commenting on how cute it was. She always took a long time to eat it, regardless of how small and simple the snack was.

All of her reactions had driven the animatronic to try and better himself. It made him want to try and learn how to cater to adult tastes.

But now that she was better, she had no need for his cooking. That was the realization that had hit him.

That was the realization that hit him when Ayala came down to the kitchen to prepare herself a meal.

His efforts had been unneeded. His recently acquired skills were now useless.

Despite this, he still watched her as she cooked. He studied her every action.

If nothing else, then he could prepare. He could take what he learned now and use it to prepare for the future. Should she ever get hurt again, she would need him. Then he would be able to prepare food for her that she would actually want to eat.

Logan had prepared more balanced meals. Something that always contained portions of meat with sides of vegetables. Ayala had always eaten it without complaint. So Sun would have assumed that she enjoyed such meals.

But what she chose to prepare for herself was something distinctly different.

At first, he hadn’t the slightest clue what she was making. He only recognized what seemed to be the primary component.

Potatoes.

She had peeled them and thrown them into a pot of water to boil before setting out to get the rest of the ingredients prepped. After having studied Logan’s cooking, none of the ingredients that Ayala pulled out made a lick of sense to the animatronic. At least not when grouped together.

First, he thought she might be making some sort of hash when she diced and cooked some bacon and onion.

Then she began to grate cheese.

Long story short, Sun was left confused. Confused and curious. At least Ayala began to mash the potatoes she had boiled. At which point, he began to make guesses. He assumed that she would add her prepped ingredients to the potatoes to make some sort of hearty mash. Something dense in carbs and protein.

That was exactly what she did. And it confused him to some degree. Mostly because the dish seemed to be so unbalanced.

He would classify mashed potatoes as more of a side dish than an entire meal.

She made herself a rather large bowl of these hearty mashed potatoes. So Sun assumed that she must have been incredibly hungry.

The portion size was at least double anything that Logan would have put on a plate for her. Much larger than anything Sun had managed to put together for her in the past couple of weeks.

“Golly, that’s a lot~” Sun commented, admittedly a bit confused by how much food Ayala had thrown into the bowl.

The woman responded with something of a quiet laugh.

“Eh, it’ll take me all day to get through this.” Ayala replied, before lazily licking a bit of mashed potato from her finger. She had made a slight mess on the rim of the bowl while mixing everything together.

Sun, meanwhile, began to tilt his head curiously.

“Why’s that?” Sun inquired, confused as to why the woman would knowingly make herself food that she wouldn’t want to eat. Why else would she take all day to eat it?

“I’m a slow eater.” Ayala responded, before casually taking a bite of her food.

The animatronic was obviously confused by her response. So he just stood there quietly as he watched her eat.

She had eaten her food rather quickly whenever Logan was over to make sure she ate. So how was she a slow eater?

“What’s the term…” The woman mumbled to herself, clearly realizing that she needed to explain the situation to Sun.

“Grazer! Unless someone pressures me to scarf everything down, I like to take my time.” She explained, stepping around the animatronic so that she could start towards the living room.

A desk had been set up there a few days prior. Complete with a chair and a laptop.

According to Logan, it was all essential for her work. Whatever her work was.

Still, Sun was left confused.

Why would someone let their food sit out all day? He and Moon could get away with it because their bodies were not susceptible to foodborne illness. Humans were not so fortunate.

Beyond that, he had another curious thought. With this information taken into account, did that mean Ayala didn’t dislike the food that he had been giving her?

There was really only one way to get the actual answer at this point, as nervous as it made him.

“H-hey, uh... Can I ask you one more teeny tiny little question?” Sun inquired, sort of peeking his head into the living room to watch as Ayala began to get herself situated. She put her bowl of food down on the corner of the desk furthest from her laptop.

“Excluding the question you just asked~? Sure.” Ayala replied, taking a moment to tease the animatronic ever so slightly.

This admittedly flustered Sun a fair bit.

“Did you uh... Did you l-like the food I made?” Sun questioned, rather hesitantly at that. He very obviously feared that he was about to get a negative reaction.

The woman, meanwhile, continued to get herself situated at her work station.

“Well, yeah. Sort of. I don’t really like carrots and apples much, but the peanut butter helped. The little toast shapes were fine.” Ayala stated, summarizing her overall perception of what Sun had made for her.

The animatronic couldn’t help but rotate his head to the side in thought. So it wasn’t that she disliked how he prepared the food, it was just that he didn’t like the food itself. That made a lot of sense, actually. If you didn’t like apples and carrots, then you wouldn’t want to eat food made from them. It made perfect sense. He hadn’t really done anything wrong in that regard.

Still, the animatronic couldn’t help but deflate a bit.

“Oh. Okay... Uhm. One more question.” Sun replied, sadness clear in his tone.

“Why did you always... Laugh, when I gave you something to eat?” He inquired. Despite having been informed why Ayala wasn’t interested in eating his cooking, he was still insecure about that. The laughter.

The woman seemed to pause upon hearing this question. She went so far as to turn around in her chair to face him.

“Well, because it was cute, I guess?” Ayala replied, sounding a bit unsure of herself.

“I’ve never really had anyone make me stuff like that. I mean, even when my parents were still around, their idea of a snack was something like cheese and crackers. Not cute little hearts made out of toast. Not butterflies made out of peanut butter and apple slices. Nothing like that.” She explained, sort of awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck as she spoke. She struggled to maintain eye contact with the animatronic as she responded to his question. He naturally noticed this, but did not comment on it. His focus was more preoccupied with what she was saying.

“I felt weird having to eat it, because it was so cute. But looking at it made me... Kinda happy? It's hard to explain.” She added, clearly trying to establish how she had been feeling whenever Sun brought her a plate of food.

The reality of the situation was that she had been abruptly introduced to a new childhood experience as an adult. The resulting sense of uncertain happiness just made her laugh. It was one of those weird human traits where someone would react in an unusual way because their brain wasn’t quite sure what to do with the new information.

[thebiscuiteternal]

Both please. Both sounds good.

Alrighty.

(The original shortfic here, for the curious)

Bittersweet Variant (warning for halted suicide attempt):

It turns out that for all Meng Yao's efforts to do it properly, the familiar-binding spell is faulty, because it's not supposed to work on any spiritual creature "uplifted" enough to have a human shape, like Nie Huaisang. As a result, instead of being a mutually symbiotic bond, the power balance/benefit is badly skewed in Meng Yao's favor.

When they rejoin the Nie brothers' traveling party, everyone in Huaisang's life takes to Meng Yao immediately. His magic, education, and even social standing grow by leaps and bounds over the next few months. Meanwhile, Huaisang is all but forgotten, even by his own brother. He's tired and sick, frequently unable to shift out of bird shape.

Meng Yao genuinely doesn't realize that something's seriously wrong, because his only teacher was his mother, who never bound a familiar of her own, and because he's too distracted by the goodwill of everyone else. He recognizes that Huaisang isn't well, but his attempts to help don't seem to be making Huaisang any stronger or happier.

Meanwhile, Huaisang thinks Meng Yao has intentionally stolen his life and is only mocking him with the overtures of affection, but can't do anything about it because of the compulsion of the bond.

Well... there's one thing he can do. The bond might make it so he can't hurt Meng Yao, but there's nothing stopping him from hurting himself. It's not like anyone's going to miss him anyway.

He's slightly wrong about that, since naturally the bond alerts Meng Yao to the danger.

During the chaos that results (Meng Yao trying to save Huaisang's life/Huaisang trying to fight him off), Meng Yao finally sees how fucked up their bond is when all of his efforts just rebound off Huaisang to increase his own strength. Horrified by the realization that all of Huaisang's problems have actually been his doing, Meng Yao effectively ties a knot in the bond so he can use different healing spells.

Huaisang survives, but it's going to take a long time for him to recover. He's still hurt and angry, but the knowledge that the affection had been real and the negative affects had been accidental make him willing to take a wait and see approach. While he's convalescing, Meng Yao throws himself into as much research as he can get his hands on with his newfound connections, not about to fail the second chance Huaisang's given him.

Purely Sweet Version:

The issue of the faulty bond is still there, but this time, Huaisang was traveling alone, having been testing out his distance flying.

With more time alone with each other (and Meng Yao not being distracted by the dazzlingly immediate acceptance of the Nie sect members), the problem is noticed within days.

Huaisang is naturally suspicious at this discovery, but Meng Yao manages to convince him he didn't intend for this to happen, and they decide to work together experimentally messing with the binding spell until they find something that feels more like it should from both sides.

It takes several weeks, during which Huaisang has to keep fending off his brother's concerned threat to come find him, but they succeed.

Without the misunderstanding lingering between them, Huaisang is much more his normal self instead of being tired and cranky and resentful, and Meng Yao finds that he's just as cute on the inside as he is on the outside.

Without the additional magical charm working on everyone as it would have in the Bittersweet side, Meng Yao doesn't have it as easy when Nie Huaisang takes him home to the Unclean Realms, but with Huaisang's visible approval and affection and his own organizational skills, he manages to win Nie Mingjue over anyway, and gradually finds himself settling in.

Though not as quickly as it would have in the Bittersweet version, he still finds his magic and education doing very well, and with their bond properly balanced, Huaisang seems to be growing stronger as well. His bird shape even gets bigger, going from the size of a finch to a raven. They spend as much time together as possible, to the point that people who don't know Huaisang can shift take note of the weird Qinghe bird that favors Meng Yao just as much as it favors Nie Mingjue.

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 10

.

@pocketramblr :)

.

One day - and not even a whole day, because of travel time and Inko wanted Izuku home for dinner- simply wasn't enough time to master a quirk. Although he could turn Float on and off, now. So, they made plans to come back next week, and the next, up until the sports festival. Which. Wow. Really was only two weeks away.

Izuku had never realized how close to the beginning of the school year it was.

He was going to die.

"You're not going to die," said Mr. Yagi. "I'm not going to say the sports festival isn't important, because it is, it's one of the best ways to make professional connections for students, but not doing well isn't the end of the world, especially not in your first year. No one expects you to be perfectly polished."

"But," said Izuku, "I'm supposed to be the next you! I've got to stand out, right?"

Mr. Yagi looked very guilty. "I... may have given you that impression when we were first training, yes. But, since then, with all my research into the past holders... few of them were popular, flashy heroes. If you want to walk the same path as me, that's great. But you don't have to. Even I didn't really start that chapter of my life until after college."

Izuku looked down at his hands, letting silence fill the space between them as he contemplated Mr. Yagi's words. "This isn't about me manifesting One for All differently, is it?"

"What? No, no of course not, my boy. I mean, it certainly helped me come to this conclusion, I wouldn't have done so much research without it! But I certainly hope I would have come to the same conclusion eventually, even so."

"Okay..." said Izuku, still dubious.

"I mean it," protested Mr. Yagi. "Most of my work is essentially underground, you know. There's a reason the battle trial was what it was."

"H-huh? You? Underground? But you're so recognizable!"

"Am I? I firmly believe in bringing all my resources to bear in the fight against evil! Ha ha!"

His laugh devolved into a cough, and he fumbled for a handkerchief. But he recovered quickly enough.

"I guess that makes sense," said Izuku, cautiously, once he thought Mr. Yagi wasn't going to start coughing again.

"You didn't think I stayed number one by popularity alone, did you?"

"I- the formulas the Hero Commission uses to determine rankings are secret, and it only includes spotlight heroes, so when I extrapolated the hero billboard rankings, yes, I assigned a high weight to popularity. There were always some discrepancies between my predictions and the end results, but I figured I missed some events, or the commission assigned them different values…"

"That's quite impressive, my boy. But, though popularity is a factor, the HPSC does take unpublicized fights and rescues into account. Assuming you report them…"

That was the second time Mr. Yagi had mentioned not telling the commission something.

"Do you, um, do you do that a lot? Not tell the commission things, I mean."

"Eh? No, no, I try to stay up on my paperwork. I get a lot of help from Naomasa, though. Some heroes, especially independent ones, without an agency, do have trouble keeping up, sometimes."

"It's just… the other day you said something about not telling the commission about All for One."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You're quite right. How should I put this… The HPSC knows All for One exists, and I have made them generally aware of his modern exploits. I haven't told them about his ability to give quirks, though they may know through other avenues, there are certain battles I've had with him that I haven't told them about, and they do not know about One for All."

“Why not?”

“Villains aren’t the only ones who seek power,” said Mr. Yagi. “The HPSC provides a vital service, and I think what one does matters more than why one does it, but… it is my observation that many of the people there are more concerned with personal power than doing the right thing. And positions of power and authority tend to draw in those who would abuse those things."

"Even heroics?"

"Especially heroics. The HPSC Ethics Review Board is supposed to stop that, but no system is perfect." He shook himself. "But look at me! I was trying to give you a pep talk, not saddle you with doubts about the government!"

Izuku laughed, nervously. "I mean, you've definitely distracted me from the sports festival…"

“Yes. The sports festival. Don’t worry about making a big spotlight combat debut. If you want to focus on rescue, or investigation, or the underground, I’ll support you all the way.” He paused. “You do need combat, though, because, because of-”

“All for One?”

“Yes, exactly. All for One.”

.

“Way to kill the mood, guys,” said Banjo.

“I think the mood was thoroughly dead already,” said Yoichi.

“Unlike your brother,” said En. “Ninth’s father.”

“Come on, it was just a little omission of information. It wasn’t even a lie!”

“It was definitely a lie. You’re so lucky that my relief about you not being a pedophile eclipsed my righteous fury regarding your mendacity.”

“You know, the fact that you’re delivering that completely deadpan gives me doubts about the fury part.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” said Nana, making a ‘T’ shape with her hands. “Time out. Ninth’s father is All for One.”

“Yes,” said Yoichi, hanging his head, “I thought that had been established.”

“So, are we… What Toshinori is saying is completely valid, by the way… but, are we expecting this kid to fight his father? Is that a thing we’re doing?”

“Uh,” said Yoichi, “in our defense, we did think he was dead.”

“Maybe Eighth will get ‘im before Ninth has to deal with it,” suggested Banjo. “He’s got to have a better chance of that, now what with Fa Jin and all.” He paused. “But, you know what would give Ninth an even better chance, if he does have to fight his deadbeat dad-”

“He’s not a deadbeat,” interrupted Hikage.

“What?”

“Calling him a deadbeat would imply that he is neither supporting the Midoriyas financially nor regularly in contact with them. He is on both counts.”

“What?” squealed Bango.

“Did you miss his phone call with his father immediately following his return home after the USJ attack?”

“Oh,” said Yoichi, “no, I was very aware of my brother’s evil, evil voice. It’s just that these guys were too focused on scolding me to listen to anything I had to say. I still can’t believe he sent someone like that to attack his own son’s class.”

“Didn’t he, like, kill you?” asked En.

“No, my death was largely unrelated. You’ve got to remember, I was a chronically ill fugitive from the law with no money. Who told you that he killed me?”

Everyone looked at their immediate predecessor. Yoichi tracked the path back to Third, who had gone very stiff.

“What the heck, Third? You were there when I died. Why would you tell Hikage that?”

Third did not answer.

“Actually, what did he tell you, Hikage?

“Oh, it was very moving and heroic. It happened while you were saving a busload of metahuman orphans. You sacrificed yourself to let them get away from All for One. I even cried a little.”

“Is it weird that I’m now disappointed in myself for not dying like that?”

“Very,” said Nana.

“What were we talking about before this?” asked En.

“I have no idea,” said Banjo.

.

Izuku delayed going to class, nervous about everyone's reactions to his quirk. It wasn't that he thought they'd reject him, but more that he had no answers for the inevitable questions.

But he also didn't want to be late.

"Todoroki was so cool!" Hagakure exclaimed as he opened the classroom door. "He was all like, blam, bam, swish! And- and he checked whether or not I was there first, before attacking, which was super cool of him."

Todoroki's expression was halfway between 'statue' and 'help, I've been hit by a truck.' "Cool?"

"Very cool."

"You've grown since the first day, kero."

"Ah! Midoriya!"

All heads turned towards him. In the next second, he was hugged by several people, which was more friendly skin contact than he'd had since… ever, probably.

"Eep," he said.

"We were so worried about you," said Uraraka. "We made a group chat, after, but since you were unconscious…"

"Hm," said Monoma, "your quirk still is definitely a stockpile…"

"Monoma!" shouted Iida. "Did you join this hug just to copy quirks?"

"And what of it?"

"But speaking of quirks," said Jiro, "you can fly now? We kind of went along with it at the time, but that's kind of different from a sensory quirk."

"I know," said Izuku, "and I have no explanation."

"Maybe your quirk stockpiles danger," said Monoma, contemplatively. He rubbed his chin with one finger. "That could be why you can sense danger- you're stockpiling it. Then, when the danger gets over a certain threshold, you can release it as flight… why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing," drawled Kaminari. "Just that you're more thoughtful than you look, pretty boy."

"I don't want to hear that from you."

"Th-thank you, Monoma! I'll have to mention it when I go to quirk counseling next."

Which may or may not be this afternoon, depending on how Mr. Aizawa felt and- His head snapped to the door. "Mr. Aizawa's coming!"

They all rushed to their seats. The door creaked open.

"Oh my gosh, he's a mummy."

.

"Iida?"

"What is it, Midoriya?"

They were having a bit of a break during English while Present Mic cycled them through for short sessions with Hound Dog.

"I didn't have a chance to ask you earlier, but how's your brother?"

“He’s alright! It’s the first really major injury of his career, so he’s going to take it easy for the rest of the month, to make sure his engines heal properly. He’d prefer not to of course, but, ah, there is a silver lining.”

“That’s good,” said Izuku, encouragingly.

“I really shouldn’t be happy about it,” said Iida, rubbing the back of his neck, “but he’ll be able to come see me during the sports festival, and he probably would have been too busy if he were active.”

“I think it’s okay to be happy about good things, even if they happen because of bad things,” said Izuku. “It isn’t like we can go back and make the bad things not happen, after all…”

“That’s very true, Midoriya! What a mature way of thinking about things.”

Izuku didn’t know about that, but he was willing to take the compliment.

.

“Midoriya,” said Shouta, who was absolutely and unquestionably recovered enough to teach. Even if he had zoned out in the corner of the room in his sleeping bag all morning rather than trekking back to the teacher’s lounge… or teaching any of his other classes… shut up. “What are you doing at the window?”

“O-oh. Mr. Aizawa. I didn’t know you were awake?”

It was, maybe, a little unfair to single Midoriya out like that, since the entire class was standing by the window, and the way Uraraka, Sero, and Midoriya were closest to it, with Monoma a close fourth, was concerning, but Midoriya was the first one Shouta saw, and the one most likely to to cave and tell him what was going on.

“Midoriya.”

“R-right. Well, going out the door seems a little unpleasant today, so we thought we’d switch it up?”

What did that even mean?

“We were going to bring you with us, of course,” continued Midoriya.

What did that even mean?

“Out the window.”

“Um. Yes.”

“What kind of unpleasant are we talking about?”

“Battle trial unpleasant?”

Shouta groaned and hauled himself up, walking over to the door. He looked out the window and made note of all the students from other classes standing out there, circling like sharks. Great. Maybe they needed to have an assembly about respecting boundaries or whatever, especially if the people whose boundaries were being crossed were potentially traumatized.

Something to bring up at the next staff meeting he attended. Which… would probably not be soon.

Anyway.

He opened the door.

(“A mummy,” whispered someone.)

(First his kids, then these kids… he wasn’t that wrapped up.)

(Was he?)

“What are you all doing here?” he asked, voice rasping rather more than he wanted it to.

The students didn’t seem inclined to answer. Someone did mutter something about the sports festival, but it was far from the complete answer that Aizawa wanted.

“Right. Whatever. Scoping out the competition is one thing, but you are aware that class 1-A is recovering from a traumatic experience. And you’re blocking traffic. Clear off.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. Shouta sighed. He knew this would only be the first of many such incidents. He made a note to talk to Nemuri about whether or not she’d be willing to donate some of her class time to talk about public relations.

.

“You know,” said Nemuri, “if you actually rested, Recovery Girl would be able to heal you.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” said Shouta, glaring at his desk in the staff room. “I’m forgetting something.”

All Might walked in. “Er, young Aizawa,” he said. He paused for a painfully long, awkward moment. “Are you still meeting with young Midoriya today?”

“Crap.”

.

Did Izuku expect Mr. Aizawa to come to their meeting? No. The man had casts on all of his limbs. But, he hadn’t cancelled it either. So, better safe than sorry, right?

But it had been a while, now. Izuku could probably safely assume he wasn't coming after a half hour. He got up, packed his bags, and reached out for the door handle-

Only to freeze as Mr. Aizawa yanked it open and pulled Mr. Yagi into the classroom after him.

Izuku scurried back to his seat.

"Nothing physical today," croaked Mr. Aizawa. "We're going to figure out your quirk."

“O-okay,” said Izuku.

Aizawa collapsed into the seat behind the teacher's desk. “To be short, this quirk, One for All or whatever, is complete nonsense.”

“Uh,” said Mr. Yagi. “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” whispered Izuku.

“You should be. Not you, Midoriya. You’re fine.”

“Okay?”

“Right. So. You’ve got two quirks right now. Danger Sense and Float. Unless something else showed up over the weekend?”

“No, it’s, um, it is just those two right now.”

“And you’ll most likely get Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and that strength enhancement eventually. Plus two mystery quirks.”

“That is what I’ve been able to find out,” said Mr. Yagi.

“So, we have to figure out some way to get all those under a coherent umbrella that can account for the mystery quirks, and before the sports festival, so the evil immortal supervillain doesn’t notice that you have quirks just like a bunch of people he had personal beef with.”

Mr. Yagi cursed in English. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, I wonder what else you haven’t thought about. Maybe this year I can get Nezu to take my suggestion about doing hero names before the sports festival seriously. You know we’ve had people stalk students before because for some godforsaken reason we use their real names? I need a drink.”

“Ah, water?”

“No.”

“Young Aizawa, you’re a teacher…”

“A career choice I question daily. Midoriya, do you have any thoughts about how to make your quirk make sense in a way that won’t get you killed or abducted by the HPSC?”

“I- Does that happen?” despite his conversation with Mr. Yagi over the weekend, he still had generally positive thoughts about the hero commission.

“I have no idea. Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Well, um, I was talking to Monoma earlier, and he said something about stockpiling danger, and how it might let out the stockpile as the energy necessary to levitate- which, really, would be a fascinating quirk if it did work that way- but I thought it might also work for Smokescreen and the strength enhancement? I mean, general responses to danger are fight, flight, or hide, so the strength enhancement is fight, Float is flight, and Smokescreen would be hide…”

“That might work. What about Blackwhip.”

“Yeah, that one has kind of stumped me.”

“Blackwhip sure is a problem,” agreed Mr. Aizawa.

.

The ghosts started laughing. “You’re a problem, Banjo,” chortled Nana.

“Come on, guys, that isn’t funny!”

"It is! It's hilarious!"

"They were just talking about All for One tracking the kid down and killing him!"

The mood sobered quickly.

"Considering that he is Ninth's father," said Hikage, "I suspect it's far too late for that."

"Yeah," said Yoichi. "But, just to be safe, and in case there are other weirdos out there, new rule: no giving him new quirks in public. Not that we can do anything about when he eventually manifests the stockpile…"

"What if he's going to die?" asked Hikage, raising his hand.

"He already got your quirk, why do you care?"

"We'd like to hear it," said Banjo, somewhat forcefully.

"Well, if he looks like he's going to die, do whatever you can to stop that from happening, I guess. But chucking a quirk he doesn't know how to use isn't always going to be the beat answer."

"Wait," said Nana. "Hold up a second. A few days ago we were talking about the potential for multiple quirk brain damage, weren't we?"

"Oh, good catch," said Yoichi. "I guess I forgot to mention it, which means Nana is the only one I'd trust babysitting my nephew in the event a quirk rewound him to elementary school age-"

"That is a suspiciously specific scenario," said En.

"-and all the rest of you are fired. You didn't even question giving him more quirks? Really?"

Hikage raised his hand. "I assumed you had discovered that Ninth had a constitution capable of handling multiple quirks, similar to yourself and your brother."

"That is true. Okay, Hikage would be another exception, but he's disqualified from babysitting for other reasons."

"That's fair."

.

"So we need something that can do all that, and has tentacles," said Izuku, squeezing his bottom lip in thought.

"Yeah," said Mr. Aizawa. "Honestly, even really dumb ideas would be welcome right now."

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"You know why."

There was only one creature Izuku could think of that could do all the things Izuku one day might be able to while maintaining room for the two mystery quirks. "Cthulhu."

Mr. Yagi looked mildly scandalized at the suggestion.

"Nah, it'd have to be something like eldritch. Cthulhu's trademarked in Japan, and that can give you aboveground types trouble."

"What is it a trademark for?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Ask Midnight. I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi.

"The problem with that is that you currently have no justification to call it that. Now if you already had Smokescreen…"

The adults looked at him.

"... I don't think it's going to just show up like that," said Izuku.

.

"Why not?" asked Banjo, staring at En. "They practically asked you for it."

"Well, first off, I live for drama, so jot that down."

"Huh? What about me?" asked Yoichi.

"Nothing, it was just an idiom. Second…"

.

"...Right," said Aizawa. “For now, then, we’ll have to give it a temporary name, because it’s starting to get to the point in time where it’ll actually be illegal for you to not register it.” He shuffled his casts. “Yagi, start filling out those forms with what he can do currently. Midoriya, make sure you check him when he’s done. For now, we’ve got to come up with a name.”

“Um,” said Izuku. “Float’s the only one that’s really visible, so I could just call it Float?”

“Vetoed. You aren’t picking a name that the immortal supervillain knows.”

“He did seem to only refer to people by quirks unless he really hated them,” said Mr. Yagi. “Except his brother, who he always called ‘my foolish brother.’”

“Focus on the paperwork.”

“And he called himself by his quirk name as well,” mused Izuku. “Do you think it was a side effect? Quirks have document impact on people’s personalities-”

“Focus.”

“R-right. Um. Feather Fall? No, that’s part of a game. Flight Reflex?”

“Good enough for now,” said Aizawa. “Flight Reflex it is.”

[groovyzombiellama]

My Powerful Queen

Title: My Powerful Queen

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are a powerful magician that’s under the wing of one of Arthur’s mages and when he goes to help the future king, you two meet and get close. When you’re found out to have more power than anticipated,you get kidnapped by VIkings and Arthur saves you, confessing his feelings in the process, and when you recover and tell him you return his feelings, he asks you to be his queen.

Word count: 2427

---***---

“That’s right Y/N, just focus your energy and don’t forget to control your breathing.“ Your teacher was instructing you how to master one of the newest spells that he had taught you. You had a bit of trouble when you first tried it, but with all of the practice and your teacher’s guidance, you were getting better and better at it, soon you’ll be able to use it without worry that something might go wrong. You were proud of yourself and how you were able to control yourself, even though it still takes you some time to regain your composure after being interrupted before the spell was done. Which is what happened this time, as the door swung open and a woman in a grey dress rushed in. You felt dizzy for a moment, and your teacher held up his hand in front of the woman, instructing her to hold on, as he checked on you. You nodded your head, to affirm you were alright, not trusting your voice, because your vertigo was still blurring your vision. As you finally felt like the room had stopped spinning, you heard your teacher talking with that woman who rushed into your house, and they were mentioning Arthur, the future king, the one man who managed to pull the enchanted sword out of the stone.

The woman was in a rush because of Arthur’s inability to control the sword yet, and she, as one of his servants, was afraid he would harm himself or someone around him if he doesn’t get someone to help him control the sword. Your teacher agreed to go over to the future king and offer his help. You quickly offered to go with him, and even though your teacher was still suspicious if you had recovered enough, he agreed, but kept a close eye on you. You had never really seen Arthur before, so you were really interested to see what the future king looks like. But you didn’t expect your vertigo to make a comeback when you finally saw him. Although the butterflies in your stomach were stronger, as your eyes met his blue orbs. This time your head was spinning because of his handsome features, but when he smiled at you, you immediately felt a rush of energy, as if he was your battery, and all you needed to get back to full power was him, and his smile.

Your teacher spoke to Arthur and introduced you as one of his strongest magicians, perhaps the strongest in the land, which intrigued Arthur, as well as one other person, in a black cloak, observing the future king and his guests. After your teacher had given him some instructions, he insisted he had other work to tend to and couldn’t help him further than that. “I could help him!“ That came out a bit faster than you had intended, even before your teacher finished his last sentence. Both men looked at you and you tried to redeem yourself, saying that the people might feel more safe to put their trust in a ruler that had control of his weapon, and since you never involved yourself in your teacher’s business more than he let you, you figured it would be good to not spend your time between practice doing nothing. And you wanted to spend some time with Arthur, you couldn’t deny that he intrigued you as much as you intrigued him. Your teacher agreed, since the work he needed to tend to was out of town, and he didn’t feel too comfortable leaving his most powerful magician alone, and he trusted you enough to know you had what it takes to help Arthur.

“If you hold it like that, you might poke your own eye out, your highness.“ You said, seeing the way Arthur was holding the sword, earning a low chuckle form him, as he let the tip of the sword to the ground, asking you first, for the fifth time now, to stop calling him royal terms, because he was not a king yet, and even then, he wouldn’t want you to call him that, since he believed you were more powerful than he could ever be. He wanted the two of you to be equals, and even offered you to be his right hand when he’s king and you finish your training. It made you smile that he had such high regards of you, and said you’d consider his proposal, after he actually learns to control the weapon he’s wielding, getting another chuckle from the blonde man in front of you. God, you could get used to hearing his laugh. But before you could get more lost in your thoughts, he was asking you the second thing. “And how do you propose I hold it, oh powerful one?“

“If I should’t call you highness, you shouldn’t use any other terms than my name, Arthur.“ You accentuated his name a small bit, and walked up to him, stopping at his side and grabbing his hands, a small shade of red coloring your cheeks, but you tried your best to focus on the task at hand and placed his hands on the handle more properly, which Arthur acknowledged gave him a bigger advantage when he wielded the sword. During these practices, the two of you got closer with each other, and would often sit down in the grass after training and just talk for a bit before going back to the castle. After a few months, the two of you knew a lot about each other, some might even say you knew more about him than about yourself and vice versa. You don’t know when you started having these feelings, but it wasn’t hard to determine what they were, you were slowly falling in love with Arthur. You didn’t want to try and determine what Arthur was feeling, because you didn’t want to face the rejection. You thought you were shooting way too high, he was the future king of the land, you were not on the same level as him.

However, you had no idea that your world would turn around completely, as the cloaked figure from the first time you met Arthur was following you the entire time, waiting for his time to strike. And he finally saw his chance when one day you were waiting for Arthur to come to practice and he was running a bit late, because of some issue that happened in the castle. You noticed a figure approach you from the woods, completely the opposite way that Arthur usually comes from, but the cloaked figure ended up being one of the Vikings who were trying to take over the land, and after hearing about you being the most powerful magician in the land, this viking figured that if you were as powerful as they claimed, you’d be perfect to help them. And when Arthur finally reached your usual practice place, you were nowhere to be found. At first he thought you were playing a trick on him, as you had already once hid in order to surprise him before practice. But after some time and a bit of searching for you where you would be able to hide, he realised you were really not here.

He didn’t know what was going on, and only when he came back to the castle did he find out, from one of the servants who went to the forest to chop some wood, and upon his return, he noticed, that some cloaked figure approached you and hoisted you over his shoulder, and regardless of how much you kicked and screamed, he just walked away with you further into the thick forest. That made Arthur’s blood boil and he was soon getting suited up with his men in order to look for you. After hearing how the servant described your kidnapper, he realised it was one of the Vikings, who had somehow infiltrated the castle without anyone noticing him, so he ordered his men to go in the direction of the viking village that he had seen on the shore. At that same village, you were living your worst nightmare. Your body was covered with cuts and bruises that you were sure would get infected if you don’t escape thes dungeon soon, and you could barely stand, your whole body in pain. You probably even had internal bleeding, but you were still not gonna give the Vikings what they wanted. You didn’t want to betray your people, and especially Arthur.

You didn’t know how much more you can take, because these people have let you know that they won’t hesitate to kill you if you didn’t help them, as that would also be in their benefit, getting rid of someone that powerful from the enemies side is almost as good as getting that someone to work for them in the eyes of the Vikings. In your head you regretted so many things that you could have done before this and you didn’t, somehow your thoughts mostly revolved around Arthur, but you tried your best to convince yourself that he didn’t care about you all that much and that he wouldn’t care if you were dead or alive. Even the first time they beat you up, you were too weak to even try a healing spell, not to mention that they didn’t let you recover for too long before they were back. This was it, this was where you die, and you were slowly comming to grips with it, when you heard commotion in the house above the dungeon where you were held. You did your best to get up on your feet. If they are comming back to finish you off, you were not gonna let them hit you while you were down. You were gonna show them that you were strong even in your final moments, and that was one of the reasons why you were considered so powerful.

But when Arthur ran into the dungeon and your eyes met, you couldn’t believe it was him. You thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you as he was the one you wanted to see in your final moments. When the viking he had captive finally opened the door of the dungeon, Arthur rushed to you, and it was only when you felt his hands embrace you did you realise it was real, he was here, and you let your tiredness and pain take over as you collapsed in his arms. He quickly picked you up bridal style and surrounded by his men exited the dungeon and passed the dead bodies he had to go through to get to you, not caring at the possibility of starting a war with the Vikings. He had to get to you, he had to save you.

Seeing your weak state, Arthur worried if you would be able to survive the trip back to his kingdom, but he was determined to do everything to make sure you do, so that his healers could help you. He didn’t want to lose you, and even though you were barely holding on to life at that point, you could still hear him telling you not to give up, to stay with him. “Please, just fight it, please stay with me. If you leave me, I’ll never be able to tell you how much I love you. These few months I had started having feelings for you, but when I heard you were kidnapped, and seeing how badly they hurt you, it made me realise that those feelings are love. I’m in love with you Y/N, and I promise that, if you fight this and stay with me, I will never let anyone harm you ever again. I’ll protect you with my life. Please.“ You couldn’t believe Arthur felt the same way you did, but no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t find your voice to tell him that you felt the same, even when you felt his warm tears falling onto your upper arm. All you could do was give it all you can and fight to survive.

Arthur stayed by your side as much as he could while you were recovering, thanking god that you were still with him, and swearing that once you were finally back to full health, he’ll ask you to be his queen. You had finally recovered, after quite some time, but you knew Athur being there for you sped up the process. It was about a week before Arthur was to be proclamed as king, and you were finally back on your feet, feeling strong enough to perform a healing spell on yourself, and get yourself back to you peak performance. You walked back to that patch of land where you and Arthur once practiced and you saw him training on his own, stopping abruptly once he saw you. A small smile tugged on his features, but you could notice how worried his eyes looked. “I’m fine, if I wasn’t I wouldn’t have come here. Don’t you want to hear my answer to your confession?“ That had gotten Artur’s attention, and that small smile on his face grew wide when you told him that you felt the same way, that you loved him just the same as he loved you. He didn’t let you go on for too long before pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, but passionate kiss.

“I’ll be coronated in a week, and every king needs a queen. Would you do me the honor of being mine?“ Arthur said as the two of you parted from the kiss, eyes still closed, and foreheads rested against each other. That had you pulling away and opening your eyes in surprise. You asked him if he was sure of what he had just said. ���Of course I’m sure, my love. You love me, I love you, why wouldn’t we get married and spend our lives together? You’re the one I want. I almost lost you, and with that I realised that I can’t imagine life without you.“ His words ringing in your ears, especially “my love“, you smiled and kissed him again, after which you once again confirmed you accept his proposal, verbally this time, proudly admiring your future husband beaming down at you with his wide smile, that smile, the one that you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your live waking up to. “I love you, my king.“ “I love you too, my powerful queen.“

---***---

@blackispink00​ I hope you like it, and I’m so sorry it took so long, Tumblr deleted some of my messages, so some of my requests got lost :) I missed having Charlie on my blog <3

Also, since Tumblr had somehow deleted some of my messages, if the person who requested an imagine with Colson Baker through my messages rather than the askbox sees this, please send in your request again and I’ll do it immediately if I haven’t done it yet, bcs I’m not sure if I’ve done it or not :D

[hotchley]

where he's been

I did it!

I wrote the happy ending/second part, in which he makes the deliberate choice to show her and there is healing and there is joy and there is love <3

Everyone say thank you to the anon on tumblr that asked me about this when I did the WIP game, because without them we wouldn't have gotten here...

But we did! I finished a multi-chapter thing!

Trigger Warnings: scars, intrusive thoughts, trauma, references to the events of the Foyet and Doyle arcs, mild sexual content, surgery, medical things (Route 66 references mostly)

read on ao3!

previously: part one

Part Two: He Shows

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

He shows her deliberately. Because he wants to. Because he loves her, and he loves himself. Because he trusts her. He wants to be vulnerable with her in a way he could only ever be with Haley. He wants to do this, for her, and for himself. He knows they are not beautiful, that she may flinch at the sight of his humanity as everyone seems to do, but he needs her to see them. Properly. In a way that is right.

His body feels more like his with every day that passes now. He will never forget the pain his fathers emotions brought, or how he felt completely paralysed and pinned in place by George Foyet and his knife. His mind may never recover. But he's been making progress, and despite the emergency surgery, his body is recovering and he's proud of it. He's proud of himself.

And he's proud of Emily too. When she was in Paris, and he was too consumed by grief to do much more than look through the files they had on Doyle, he would feel a sense of pride in her, and all she had overcome. In all she had accomplished. In all she had survived, and continued to survive. But most of all, he was proud that she never let Doyle win.

Even when he tried to scar her body forever as a punishment for everything she had done, even though she had been right, she had always been right, she didn't let him win. She wore that scar with the same pride everyone on the team did. Because those scars made them human. They reminded him they weren't untouchable, but they were stronger than anyone gave them credit for.

It took a while for her to get there. There were still days where she would scrub the area till the skin went red, as though enough force would remove it. There were days where she would think of how far plastic surgery had come, and wonder- if she was given the chance- whether she would keep the marks. But there are other days, where she doesn't even hesitate before wearing shorts. Before wearing something with a lower neckline.

It's different for Aaron. Not for any real reason, he's just a different person. The scars that cover his torso, the scars that match the killer of his first love, of the first woman to teach him that when the poets said love hurt, they did not mean like the pain that came with smashed glass or belt marks, they meant a pleasant hurt, were almost impossible for him to accept.

The ones on his back became easier with time. Because they healed, and they faded to silver lines. He can still feel it, and can still tell when someone has touched him there. He no longer flinches, as the touches placed there are warm and gentle. Neutral. And he was a child, who deserved to be safe. A child, who shouldn't have known how to fight.

The ones left by Foyet were harder to come to terms with. He cannot feel there properly. The few times Emily has touched him- over his shirt, only ever over his shirt- he has either winced at a phantom twinge of pain or stared at her blankly because the area was numb.

He used to feel like he should've fought back. Properly. His gun was on the table, he could've grabbed it. He knows he could've because he dreams of that night more times than he doesn't. Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. Elle told him it was, but he remembers how she was- so unforgiving of herself. He wouldn't extend himself the courtesy she hadn't.

Foyet’s scars were just different. He hated having the same marks as a killer. He hated how, every time he walked into his apartment, he would remember. Vividly. The moments from his childhood still haunted him, but some of them were starting to blur together. But the feeling of the knife plunging in- he would always remember each and every single one.

The stitches tore during his thirty-four days off. He had sent everyone away, not wanting them to see just how much he needed them, because he needed to convince himself they still believed in his invincibility. The irony of his situation, especially as Derek held his hand from the bed to the wheelchair, was not lost on him. But then he regained his independence.

Then the damage done almost became irreversible. Collapsing in the conference room had been terrifying for everyone, but waking up had been the hardest thing he'd ever made himself do. During one of his brief moments of consciousness, he realised it was the damage Foyet had done when he scarred him that had led him to the abyss he'd visited once, and only once before.

When he finally gained the courage to look in the mirror, he broke. The scars were never going to heal properly, he'd realised that right before the pain became overwhelming. Foyet's hadn't. No matter how careful he may have been the second time round, the scars were never going to fade. They were still red, just less angry.

Seeing them after the surgery, in the same apartment, with the same mirror, sent him back in time. They were too red. They were too deep, too much and he couldn't look at himself, couldn't go through the pain of realising just how strong one man's hold on him was. Not for a second time.

Emily found him like that. She didn't walk in, knowing he would never recover if she did. But when he emerged thirty minutes later, wearing Haley's college hoodie that had always fit him perfectly, she took his hand. She kissed his forehead, and played with his hair as they watched one of Jack's cartoons. A part of her felt guilty for not saying something, but he felt more grateful for that than she would ever know.

They had sat on the couch until they fell asleep then. They were sitting on the couch when she touched the biggest scar, causing him to wince and run out, leading to her seeing them for the first time.

Because sometimes, the world is cyclical, they're sitting on the couch when he shows her.

This time, Jack is at a sleepover. There had been a gala, and he had looked so happy as he accepted his reward. Shocked beyond belief when Strauss announced her retirement. But so incredibly happy when she named him her successor, especially when he realised there was no reason he had to become a paper-pusher. There was no reason for him to change.

He looks so perfect, cheeks glowing and genuine smile overpowering everything else about him that she can't help but kiss him the moment they get in the car. If they seemed like love-struck teenagers to everyone that drove past then so be it. He looked handsome in his suit, but happiness suited him even more and she wouldn't let anyone dampen it.

So they're sitting on the couch, and his hands are running up and down her arms like he still can't quite believe she wants him. Her dress matches his tie- of course it does, because Aaron pouted and stared at her till she told him the colour- and she looks so beautiful that all he wants to do is watch her. She doesn't even have to do anything, so long as he can admire her.

Just like before, she touches his torso. Before he looks down, she pulls her hand away like he burnt it. A silent apology starts to pass her lips, but he kisses it away before it gets the chance to escape. Tonight, there will be no apologies. There will be no sadness.

Only them and the love they fought so hard for.

"Aaron," she says. "What's going on?"

He cannot tell her, his heart suddenly racing. He knows that he's ready to do this. He knows he wants to. He knows that there will be no shame or judgement if he suddenly stops halfway through. He knows all of that, but the traitorous, self-sabotaging part of his brain wants nothing more than to throw her out.

Before she sees his humanity. Before she gets too close and gets hurt. Before she decides that he is too damaged, and too messy, and too ruined for her to love.

But there is a piece of his brain that is stronger than that. A piece that knows she has seen his humanity every moment since she met him, all those years ago. That knows she has already gotten too close, but with her eyes wide open to all the danger that could come. She loves him. She loves him knowingly and deliberately.

He isn't ruined. He never has been. And yes, he is messy, but everyone is. She knows him. Perhaps better than he does. So she won't leave. Not this time.

He's not said anything for a while, and she's starting to worry. Then he takes her hand, as he has done a thousand times before, and the weight of it grounds her. She trusts him. Whatever he is going to do, he will do because they both want it.

"Close your eyes. Please? I'm not going to touch you, but I can't- if I say it, I'll back out," he whispers.

She realises suddenly, randomly, that the lights are still on. "Okay," she whispers, and complies. Talking feels too loud.

"You can open them now," he says, a few minutes later.

She does. And for a moment, she has no idea what's happening.

And then she sees. Properly. He's taken his shirt off, and his scars are completely visible to her. All of them. She's never loved him more. For trusting her enough to show her who he is. For loving her enough to be so vulnerable without fear. For being so brave that she no longer feels afraid of anything.

"My darling," she says, because Aaron feels too casual. But she has no words.

He takes her hand again, and presses it against his chest. She can feel his heart racing underneath it.

"This belongs to you. Whatever is left of it, however long it may beat for, it all belongs to you. Because I love you. And I trust you. So break it if you must, but carry the pieces with you because they are yours, now and forever."

Emily can't help the tears that start pooling in her eyes. She understands where this is coming from. He thought that this would be the thing that made her hesitate. One day, he will realise that this is the thing that convinced her that it was right. She had known for a while that she was going to spend whatever portion of her life that he wanted her for with him, but now she was so sure that the thought didn't fill her with dread.

There are no words in a language she speaks to tell him how much this means to her. So she settles for the ones that will do. "It won't be the pieces that I carry. It will be the whole thing. For as long as you will allow me to. I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I love you, I love you, I love you." She smiles as she says the words, not once moving away from him.

He smiles, as he always does, before he kisses her. He smiles through the kiss.

It is perfect. It is beautiful. Standing there, with him so vulnerable and her so irreversibly in love, it is hard to believe that the place they are creating their happy ending, is the same space where he was once stabbed in. The place where she set off that chain of events not so long ago.

They go to sleep, in the same bed, wrapped in each others' warmth. It feels perfect. The photo of Haley they keep on the dresser seems to glow even brighter, like she too is so proud of who they have become.

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

And Aaron does too. Because now he's shown her. Properly. And he saw her face, full of love and admiration and pride in how far he has come. She's seen them. But it was his decision. And that, more than anything, heals the final piece of his soul that Foyet destroyed.

[aspoonofsugar]

RWBY Chain Of Faves

Who are your top 10 favorite RWBY characters and why?

Hello anon!

Thank you very much for this ask! I love talking about faves!

1) The murder kids aka Emerald and Mercury

I have talked about them here and here and I’ve shared some minor thoughts here and here.

I think their story has yet to enter its climax, so the metas on them are not as finalized as those on other characters. Still, the set-up is all there and I love it. As I say in the metas linked, they are a unit (body and soul, weapon and semblance). They are also two of the characters who mostly explore the cycle of abuse (together with Cinder, who is both victim and perpetrator).

I like how they are given the chance to screw up very very badly (and are given consequences for their actions), but are also always framed as two kids who try to be toughter than they are.

What is more, I love their relationship and their dynamic with Cinder. I think both bonds are very complex and are shown rather than told. This is why Emerald and Mercury’s body language is very effective imo. Their closeness is mostly conveyed through them glancing at each other or how they move around each other. This makes sense because they are in a place where they can’t speak freely.

In particular, I like that their relationship is deep, but not idealized. They care about each other, but are too scared to save each other. This is why Emerald needs the help of an adult (Hazel) to leave her abusive environment. This is also why she is recovering in a healthier environment that also lets her understand the consequences of her actions better. At the same time, Mercury who is instead stuck with another abusive mentor can’t currently escape.

When it comes to each one of them individually...

Emerald’s design and semblance are among my personal favourites. Her semblance especially is at the very top of my list. It has so much potential thematically and flexibility in terms of use (invisibility, transformation, specific illusions fitting a character’s flaw). I hope they use it more and in diverse ways in the future to show Emerald’s growth. For example, how cool would it be if she used it to help another character overcome a panic attack? Or if she helped Ruby enter the mental state to use her eyes with it?

I also really like she has a specific fighting style that fits her thief motif and is very different from others. It is less scenographic, but  very pragmatic and I love it.

I also liked the focus she received this season and I think it needs to be finalized. I am curious on how it will happen.

Mercury’s background is the one which breaks my heart the most. The little we know is horrible :( I also think it is a story that heavily relies on symbolism to convey the idea of abuse...

Marcus took Mercury’s legs, so he can’t psychologically escape the cycle of abuse... Marcus told Mercury he needs no crutches and Mercury is refusing to aknowledge his hurt and to heal... Marcus’s violence messed up Mercury so much he is not sure what he wants and his semblance is missing to underline it.

I wonder if we will discover more about his background or if what we have so far is all. I can see it go both ways to be honest. Also, Tyrian’s interactions with Mercury are interesting and meaningful, but also terrifying. I both want more and I am scared of having more :’’)

I am also looking forward to see how his allusion will be used. As for now, he has the potential to have at least three different motifs going on. The one of Mercury the God, the one of Mercury the metal and the one of Mercury the planet. Curious to see what is done with them!

Finally, I’m the One is one of my favourite songs because it is full of foreshadowing and perfectly conveys what their characters are about. I would love to properly analyze it one day, even if I have used it in multiple metas already :), so I am not sure I have new things to say.

The same can be said about their fight against Coco and Yatsuhashi and their fight with Cinder against Amber. In a sense, those two fights are complementary, since the first one foreshadows their major assets that are properly shown and charged symbolically in the second.

In short, their fight with Coco and Yatsuhashi is how they want to appear:

I'm the one that your mama said 'Don't mess with them or you'll end up dead That type they don't follow any rules'

Their fight against Amber is who they are deep down:

I'm the one That was born in a nightmare a murderer's son

I'm the one Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one

3) Penny

She is the protagonist of the Atlas Volumes and has my favourite arc so far.

Her arc is contradictive, sad and powerful. In a sense, her whole character is written to hurt :’’’) She is given a happy and enthusiastic personality to hide how tragic her story is.

Penny is an example of how to write a specific kind of tragedy, where the main conflict does not lie in the character’s flaw, but in the environment she is in. Penny wants to be a “real” girl, but others won’t let her. This conflict escalates until she tragically manages to affirm her personhood in death.

At the same time, she is given self-issues that can be seen as a flaw and tie to her environment. She is self-sacrificial and struggles to see herself as a true person. Still, this flaw does not really drive her plotline (others’ control of her does) and, as @hamliet​ has stated, it does not eat everything around Penny.

So, she dies tragically because she never gets the chance, not even to overcome these self-issues, but to properly face them. At the same time, her death is powerful and cathartic because she negates others’ control and manipulation. She negates the mechanisms that had her develop self-issues to begin with.

Is it a happy outcome? Not at all. It is sad and contradictive. It is gray, but this is precisely why it is powerful. It manages to convey and explore complex and contradictive ideas. It does not offer an answer, but only bittersweet questions.

I also really like how Penny’s allusion is used in the story. It is played straight in terms of plot since Penny becomes human as the story goes on. However, it is problematized in terms of themes. It conveys that humanity is about making choices and experiencing both happiness and pain. Finally, Penny’s final scene is an inversion of the original novel.

Penny is not the Blue Fairy’s creation, but the Blue Fairy’s creator:

She goes from Creation (passive, a child) to Creator (active, an adult).

Incidentally, Penny too has one of my favourite songs. Friend is beautiful and it perfectly describes her arc. It conveys how much she loves humanity despite how complex and painful it is. The music starting slow and melancholic to gain more power as it goes on describes Penny’s life beautifully. It is a story that ends too soon (the music interrupts at its most vibrant), but it is still a melody full of love for life:

An answered prayer A chance to Share the world To be a girl Who fin'lly felt alive

4) Cinder

Cinder is probably the most complex and best written character so far.

She manages to make me feel for her and to make me incredibly angry with her at the same time :’’’)

I have written several metas on her, so you can read my thoughts on her background, the focus she received this volume, how I think her arc will end and some minor symbolism.

Cinder is built on an equilibrium between victim and perpetrator. She is both and the narrative strikes perfectly with its framing of her. It is both sympathetic and strict and most of all tragic because no matter if Cinder wins or loses... she keeps spiralling either way and she can’t understand she is fighting a worthless fight.

She is also full of interesting motifs and symbolism. One I would like to explore more in the future (and for it to be explored more by the story itself) is her fall motif.

She chooses the surname “Fall” herself when it is decided her first target is the Fall Maiden. This makes for a nice juxtaposition between her and Winter.

Cinder is born with nothing. Her own name refers a substance almost completely burnt, something with almost no color. It is a very humble name, so she chooses a surname which is important. It is a surname that hints to her role as a vessel of the Maidens.

She is not chosen to be a Maiden... she is not supposed to be one. However, she decides she is going to take the power even if it is not hers. She is taking destiny in her own hands.

Winter is born with apparently everything. However, this is also why everything gets decided for her. She is given the name Winter before she was born. Similarly, Ironwood chooses her as the Maiden even before she discovers about them.

Cinder sees Winter as having everything Cinder deserves. However, she misses how Winter is facing very similar struggles. She might be given what Cinder is negated, but she too has to make that destiny hers. She has to take her story in her own hands, just like Cinder.

At the same time, Cinder’s fall motif is linked also to the idea of falling. She falls and makes others fall. Exactly like she burns and is burnt. The orange of her flames aesthetically calls back to the orange of the falling leaves.

This idea is also conveyed through Cinder constantly mistreating and even killing characters representative of sides of herself.

She abuses Emerald and Mercury aka her child selves.

She kills Watts aka her negative foil.

She kills Pyrrha and Penny aka her Maidens’ foils.

It is clear that all this hurting and killing parts of herself won’t end well for her. I mean, she, not Salem, is the one responsible of the two major deaths in the series (Penny and Pyrrha), so she is bound to receive consequences.

Another thing I love about her is how her intelligence is people focused. She is very good at reading and manipulating others and this is how she wins her major fights. This is both her flaw and her major asset. I like it because I think RWBY is good in showing different kinds of intelligence and Cinder’s one is very coherent with her personality.

Finally, I love how her Cinderella allusion is used. It is a deconstruction of the original fairy tale that is born from a question: “What if Cinderella were not the kind victim of the story, but a bad victim?”. It is also interesting how the key character in Cinder’s allusion is not the Prince or the Stepmother, but the Fairty Godmother who fails her twice (Rhodes and now Salem).

As a side note, I can’t wait for The Truth to be out in its complete version.

5) Oscar

Aka the one who deserves nothing of what he gets :’’’)

I love him because he is an example of how to write a character who is a cinnamon roll, but that also is not boring and has complexity.

His struggle is about his sense of self. He starts the story by wishing to become more than what he is, but he does not like that this “more” turns out to be about fusing with another person. He wants to grow not to lose himself to another entity.

This is his major fear:

Who will you see? There in the darkness When no one is watching Who will you be? When you're afraid And everything changes Will you see a stranger? Feel proud or betrayed?

This is well conveyed also by his relationship with the rest of the group. He starts as the odd man out and others mostly rely on Ozpin rather than him. He sometimes even seems to disappear behind Ozpin. However, as time goes on, he forges genuine bonds and he becomes dependable on his own. He becomes even more so than Ozpin because he has something Oz lost out of cynism. The ability to trust.

In the Atlas volume he is the character that embodies the thematic statement about trust:

Oscar: You want him to trust us? Then trust me.

The point is that to be trusted you should trust first, even if there is no guarantee it will work.

It is interesting because the theme of trust is explored starting with Ozpin, Oscar’s foil, who does not trust others, so our protagonists feel betrayed. However, in Atlas they find themselves in Ozpin’s shoes and must choose if to trust Ironwood or not.

Here, we explore a form of conditional trust. This idea is presented by Ruby, who wants to be sure it is safe to trust Ironwood. So she keeps secrets and studies him until she decides she can trust him... only to discover that was not the case immediately after. This happens because trust can never be completely safe. Actually, in its most negative declination, this kind of trust becomes the control symbolized by Ironwood.

No matter what, trust is always a leap of faith. This is why trust is a risk. Oscar shows this concept well. He decides to still trust Ironwood at the end of volume 7, but it does not work. Still, he does not stop and decides to trust Emerald and Hazel. This time his trust and faith are repaid. He is fred and gains a new ally:

I love Emerald and Oscar’s interactions btw :’’’) It is good that Oscar is the one who is growing closer to her. They escape Salem together and Oscar has not been hurt by Emerald the same way the others are.

Anyway, even if trust is worth it, the exploration of this theme in Atlas actually ends on a negative note. It ends with Cinder who is an enemy of trust because she uses others’ trust and feelings against them.

Anyway, Oscar is a key character and I can’t wait for his story to develop more!

6) Ironwood

He breaks my heart.

He is a an excellent tragic Hero.

He thinks he is the Great Good, but this is precisely why he spirals out of control and falls with his own Kingdom, hated by his allies and forgotten by his enemies.

His downfall stems from his inability to trust, his refusal of emotions, his single-mindness and mostly his convinction he is better than others. This idea is structural of Atlas society and is seen in many of his inhabitants. No matter the social class, we see multiple people thinking they deserve better and that they are above others. This is why Atlas falls and his people becomes refugees in the poorest Kingdom of Remnant.

Anyway, Ironwood thinks he is better than others, so he should be the one deciding for others as well. This idea is flawed and perfectly conveyed through his ideology of sacrificing everything. He feels he has everything, so he can sacrifice what he wants. Still, this is not the case. Others’ lives and feelings are not his. He doesn’t own them.

7) Weiss

I love Weiss. She has one of my favourite designs and one of my favourite semblances and fighting styles.

Her snowhite allusion being played to explore the idea of a dysfunctional family is very good.

In general, I love how much she has grown slowly, but steadily and how she has progressively become warmer. I enjoyed her interactions with her siblings this season. She also gets many moments where she shines for her humanity and intelligence.

She is both Snowhite and the Prince, but also the Huntress that changes and makes others change. She becomes an inspiration for her whole family and since the Schnees are all in Vacuo and she will eventually join them, I am curious if there is going to be more about their family dynamic.

Other than this, I am excited about her Nevermore summon, what is means symbolically and when she will use it.

8) Ruby

I think Ruby’s arc must still enter its climax and that she will shine towards the end of the series.

That said, I love her as a protagonist. She has an interesting set of skills that makes her competent, but not invincible. Moreover, I like how she is important and a participant of the plot, but also does not single-handedly solves everything by herself. She has to learn just like the others. For example, this volume she learns that trust is a risk and the importance of taking risks.

Moreover, she is actually very rarely the protagonist of a volume climax. Speaking of the most climatic volumes, Pyrrha is the protagonist of the climax in volume 3, Yang and Raven are in volume 5, Penny in volume 8.

The climax where she is the most in focus as a character is volume 6 and that is the volume where her eyes are explored and her personal arc is set up. That said, she still manages to be important and to contribute to the action in many ways.

I think her role is to inspire others and I guess that by making that speech this volume she is gonna grow into a symbol even more. If that happens it will be interesting to see what this means for her.

Apart from this, I am curious about her subplot with her mother and if it will tie to her choice to save Cinder with her eyes (since I think this is where we are going). She is going to be both Hood and the Huntsman who kills the Wolf and saves the Victim.

9) Nora and Ren

They are my favourite canon romance.

Their story starts with Ren getting focus (with Nora as a support) and is slowly shifting to Nora developing as her own person (with Ren as a support).

It fits for them to be one of the series main romances because as characters they both explore the concept of emotions and emotional intelligence.

I would say Nora is one of the most emotional intelligent characters in the cast. She is aware of her own feelings for Ren and tries to push their story forwars. She quickly picks up on Pyrrha’s crush and encourages her to make a move. Honestly, she sees herself as a dumb jock, but she is far from it. She is one of the wisest and most sensitive characters:

Nora: You shove people out so you don’t have to feel things that are hard!

Ren is ironically the one struggling with feelings, even if his semblance is all about emotions. In a sense, it is as if he develops it precisely because he struggles with this part of himself.

As a child he is easily overwhelmed by emotions like fear, which goes in the way of his actions. So, when he is under stress he deveops a magical power that lets him control this part of himself. However, as time goes on, it becomes more and more obvious that he should face his own feelings. And once he faces them:

Ren: No! No one is replaceable.

Then he becomes able to see both himself and others more clearly.

In general, both Ren and Nora must overcome their issues if they want to end up together.

Ren’s issue was his fear of being completely vulnerable and to open up with another person. Nora’s is her complete dependance on Ren and how she sees herself as only a part of him, while she is much more.

As a side note, Ren finally confessing his feelings for Nora only to be (temporally) rejected is a great note for his character arc. He was repressing his feelings out of fear, but now he has grown enough to take a risk (opening up, showing vulnerability). Well, this risk does not pay off immediatley. Nora asks him for some time and this is surely not how Ren would have hoped things to go. Still, he understands and supports her. He takes an emotional risk that does not pay off immediately, but he is able to live with it.

In terms of writing, I also think Raven is top notch. Moreover, Winter is a lowkey favourite as well.

I also like some minor characters like Ilia, whose background is built on a very interesting premise that fits her chameleon motif, and Whitley who manages to be helpful even if he is not a fighter. Velvet also has a cool weapon and semblance that tie with her photography motif.

I also love Yang, Blake and Jaune aka the other members of the main cast.

In terms of design, many of my favourites have also my favourite designs (Emerald, Weiss, Mercury, Cinder, Penny, Winter, Ruby, Ren and Ilia).

Other than them, I love Neo’s design, characterization and fighting style:

Finally, I also like Tock’s design and concept, even if she only appears once.

Thank you for this ask! I had fun with it!

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 33

First

Previous

Next

Updating today instead of tomorrow so I can spend the whole day on the work I procrastinated :/

~~~

How did she end up staying at Wayne Manor for a week and a half? Deception. She’d never felt more betrayed than she did in that moment. And to think, she and Tim had been friends. 

She’d rolled her eyes when Wayne Manor came into view.

“I can go home, you know.”

“Says the person who got kidnapped on her way there,” responded Tim with a sigh. He paused at the gate as they waited for it to open. “Besides, your ankle’s messed up. You shouldn’t be walking.”

She groaned and tipped her head back against his arm so she could glare at him. “I’m fine.”

He had looked away for a moment, using the gate opening as an excuse, then he started walking. After a while, he hesitantly looked at her. “But I’m not! You got hurt because of me. Please, just... let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Her face burned. “Fine. I’ll stay until Halloween. Happy?”

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head. “But, bean, that’s tomorrow! At least stay here for proper treatment, then you can go.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I could get proper treatment without you.”

He had only sighed in response.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay until I’m healed.”

“Really?” He asked, his face full of hope.

She nodded.

And then, much to her horror, a smug smile stretched across his face. “No take backs! Sucker!”

Truly horrible. She’d never trust again.

~

Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn’t have a good time.

After ‘convincing’ (begging) them to go to her apartment and get her supplies she’d started working on the outfits for the steadily approaching Gala. She’d intended to do most of her embroidery while she was there, because it was calming and repetitive and she’d be able to relax with Tim... but then Dick had seen what she was doing and had nerded out with her about outfits and design. It turned out one person in their family did have a little bit of style, and she was ecstatic. Now she lazed on his way-too-comfortable bed and worked while babbling on about her designs. And he actually understood what she was saying. It was great.

And, when she wasn’t designing, she’d often be found drinking coffee with Tim (the Waynes had bought another machine for her after the first day’s... ‘incident’). They would lean against each other and drink in comfortable silence, which is exactly what everyone wants in the early morning. Who cares if it was three in the afternoon? With their sleep schedules it was practically like being awake at five in the morning anyways.

At other times she and Jason could be found together. This was less fun, because he was the one most pressed about her ankle. While everyone knew that her foot would probably be fine in a week’s time, he was the one to practically carry her everywhere like a damsel in distress. He’d learned to stop when she kicked him in the shin (with her bad leg, it was not a good time for either of them), but he was still extremely worried for her and not at all concerned with hiding it. Still, he made it up to her by sneaking her extra coffees (Dick had set a limit when he’d seen the way Tim and her binge-drank when with each other).

The only bad part was...

Her and Damian locked eyes across the table and they sent each other a glare. She didn’t even know why his presence irritated her to no end, didn’t know why her veins buzzed whenever he got too close; she only knew that she didn’t like it.

She didn’t act on it that much, surprisingly. She had no real reason to be angry with him, the slight rudeness he’d presented the day they’d met was perfectly justified. Marinette settled for the occasional snide comment at the table.

This only seemed to upset him more and more as time went on.

Finally, when her leg was healed (Jason had managed to convince her to stay an extra day to be sure), he’d grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from Tim before either of them could really react.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed as he pulled her along, struggling to not spill her coffee due to their brisk pace.

He dragged her into the dojo and crossed his arms over his chest. “Me? You’re the one who’s been rude the whole time you’ve been staying here!”

She couldn’t respond. He had a bit of a point. She settled for sending him a glare over the rim of her cup.

“What do you have against me?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Maybe I just don’t like people.”

“You made friends with the Rogues!”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. She lowered her drink slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” she corrected herself.

Damian scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. You don’t want to answer? Fine. Fight me.”

Marinette felt like she had whiplash. He’d gone from being annoyed that she wasn’t being nice to him to wanting to fight in approximately half a second. Still, she had to admit, fighting him would probably be nice. Not only did she miss the adrenaline of a fight, but a tiny part of her hoped that her anger would dissipate if she gave him a punch or two.

She set down her drink. “Sure. Whatever.”

He looked a bit smug. They walked along the walls and pulled off equipment that they deemed necessary. Basically they both pulled on some grappling gloves and she added an ankle brace to make sure she didn’t instantly mess up her leg again.

After a few minutes of stretching they squared up to each other on the mat.

She grinned and raised her hands to her face. She didn’t actually know how good he was, but she wasn’t all that intent on going easy on him. They had a dojo, he had to have some kind of fighting expertise, that only made --.

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts as a punch came at her face. She dodged with ease and backed up a few steps, raising her guard properly. All she needed was to take her time to learn his fighting style.

She smiled as she dodged his attacks. He was getting angrier, sloppier, with every miss. His style was getting more and more obvious. Just a few more attacks and she would be completely sure --.

His fist came for her throat.

She had to do a backflip to avoid the blow.

His eyes widened.

She cursed mentally. She’d given up her one possible advantage: the high chances of him underestimating her.

Her element of surprise gone, she forced herself to go on the offense. She threw a short jab at him and raised her eyebrows at the almost practiced nature of his block, like he’d done this exact motion a million times.

Her lips twitched. Amateurs are usually the ones who choreograph their moves like that --.

Realization struck her just as his fist did, sending her back a few steps.

Her body moved on autopilot, sending a kick at his chest to get him away so she could recover. His hand locked on her foot and one of his legs swept hers out from under her. A curse slipped from between her lips as her back hit the mat, but it was nothing compared to her reaction when he dropped a bit of weight on the leg he held. Pain pulled a strangled sob from her throat and she thought her leg would shatter.

Her hand slammed the ground twice.

Damian stopped instantly at the motion a worried expression flickering across his features. Red Hood wasn’t lying, the reaction had been instantaneous in both of them. They’d both been drilled, both had the same cues. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

And, unfortunately, Damian wasn’t completely stupid. She saw confusion find its way across his face. And then shock. Denial. Understanding. Anger. And then acceptance.

He dropped onto the mat beside her and covered his face with his hands. “You’re Ladybug.”

“And you’re Robin,” she agreed, pulling her still throbbing leg to her chest. “You suck with and without the outfit. It makes sense,” she muttered.

And, sadly, it really did make sense. The buzzing under her skin she’d interpreted as anger was just the cat miraculous calling out to her, to its guardian, waving its arms and screaming at her to just let him use it. And, now that she thought about it, it could only have been him. She’d probably recognized the feeling she had around Damian as the one she had around Robin subconsciously and transferred that anger onto him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she warned.

He scoffed. “Why would I hide it? They already suspect you. Besides, it’s not like the rest of my family would care, they love you with and without the costume.”

She sat up and sent him a glare. “It’s not about that. I keep my identity secret because I want to. It’s my privacy, my secret, and you don’t get to a choice in this.”

Damian -- no, Robin -- no -- He opened his fingers to peek at her serious face and she caught an eye roll.

“And, if you don’t...” She added, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m sure your family would love to know exactly how I found out who you all were.”

It was a guess, really. She assumed that, because they were pretty open about being family as vigilantes, they all had to be in on it when they told someone about their identities. But it was still a guess. She gave him her most confident look so he wouldn’t think she was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed and he sat up as well. She scrutinized his face; she looked for fear or annoyance or something, but he’d managed to put together a perfect mask.

And then...

He sighed and stuck his hand out. “Fine. I don’t tell them anything, you don’t tell them anything. Deal?”

They shook on it.

“Deal.”

~

She spent the next three days (because Jason had thrown a fit when he’d realized she had messed up her ankle more) observing the family. It would be beneficial to learn which bat corresponded to which Wayne, it made it easier to keep her lies consistent.

She could go off of ages, of course. It was the easy way to guess, but she’d never been one to take the easy way.

Besides, the ‘hard way’ wasn’t actually all that hard.

Bruce Wayne was a reclusive billionaire known to adopt kids faster than they could say ‘hi’. Batman was a reclusive billionaire known to take vigilantes under his wing just as quickly.

Dick Grayson-Wayne was an ex-acrobat who was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person. Nightwing incorporated acrobat-like flexibility and technique in fighting and was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person.

Jason Todd-Wayne was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to joke about committing murder. Red Hood was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to actually commit murder.

Timothy Drake-Wayne was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to become CEO of a company at a young age. Red Robin was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to figure out Batman and Robin’s identities at a young age.

Honestly, she felt like banging her head on a wall for not realizing it sooner. Sure, she’d suspected it, but she’d been so determined for ‘proper’ proof that she didn’t realize that there was some pretty good proof right in front of her.

Well, at least she’d figured it out at some point, she supposed.

~

She sent Jason a glare as she scooped some coffee pods into her bag. “I am fine.”

“But --.”

“I am fine.”

He huffed. “You’re still limping.”

“I. Am. Fine.”

He opened his mouth one last time, but was cut off by Tim pushing past him to wrap her in a hug. “Beeeeaaaaan, please let me --.”

She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to push him off, only detaching an arm so she could drink from her mug. “Not working a second time.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. She sighed and glanced at Jason. “Help.”

“Only if you promise to stay a bit longer,” he said without missing a beat, his lips curved into a Cheshire grin.

Marinette sent him a look before leaning into Tim. “You’re all allowed to come to my house at any point.”

“Yeah, but your house is boring,” complained Dick.

She threw a cup of coffee creamer at him and he dodged it without even sparing it a glance.

“It’s true, bean, it’s pretty empty in there.”

Marinette laughed quietly. “Fine. If you guys don’t like it then you’re not allowed back.”

Jason gasped and joined the hug. “How dare you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to trap me here?”

“Whaaaaat? Us? No,” said Dick as he, too, walked over and wrapped his arms around her.

Marinette decided she’d give them a few minutes. She could still reach her coffee, and that’s all that really mattered.

At least, until she saw Damian in the hallway. Her shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of him. Ever since their agreement they’d come to a kind of truce. After all, if they really wanted they could spill the secret. Sure, there was incentive to keep quiet, but if one of their tempers got the better of them...

“Help?” She tried.

He looked away and continued walking, leaving her to suffer.

She sighed and went to work prying arms off of her. There was a lot of whining, but none of them resisted.

Outside of Tim.

Dick broke into a grin and pulled Jason out, yelling that they were going to help pack her stuff over his shoulder. She didn’t believe that was quite it. For some reason.

“Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Come back for Thanksgiving?” He asked.

She blinked. A little over a month beforehand he’d been desperate to keep her away from this place. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Fine. I’ll stay for Thanksgiving. But only if you let go.”

“Fine.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows when he didn’t let go immediately.

“Um...?”

He smirked. “I said I’d let go, I never said when.”

She groaned and pushed him off. This time he let her. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Mmm,” she said, determined to not say yes or no.

He didn’t seem to notice, giving her a wide grin. “Right, ready to go?”

She smiled. “Yep!”

~~~

Taglist

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<3

[katsuki-goodness]

<= Part 4 =>

Summary: If he wanted to come, he could have.

Tagged: @todosweetheart @afuckingunicornn

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote anything so I'm sorry for the inconsistencies. I made sure to look over it so I am hoping everything is okay lol Also, Val, I had forgotten you changed your name XD But I hope you enjoy this regardless. My writing isn't what it use to be but I only write when I feel in the mood so I hope you both enjoy this, and everyone else too~

"She is bruising up! She is losing too much blood! Y/n! Please!"

"Deku...!" Izuku stood up in front of his classmates, looking out to the stadium below where your body was lying motionless for everyone to see. You had not been hit by Todoroki regardless if that was the intention. He was trying to win and you had the same excuse, but you pushed yourself. You couldn't get a single scratch on him until he had assumed that he won. You were able to put him in the ground but he rolled away in time before you had the chance to smash him into the rocky floor. Your body began to wear out, your arms were giving up as they began to loosen upon you and that's when you began feeling wet. Something felt weird but it wasn't the water of any sort that was covering your arms, but the blood that was forming inside your arms. They began to bruise but you didn't think much of it and used your quirk to attack him again.

It took just a few seconds for you to feel the sharp pain, making you fall over and whale in pain. You had pushed yourself so hard that it popped some blood vessels and tore a ligament in your shoulder. Todoroki looked panicked but he didn't know what to do. Izuku quickly screamed out in fear, calling your name as the teachers stopped the match. Katsuki stood up from his seat, his eyes in utter shock. This couldn't be happening to me is what he thought, and his anger took over more and more until he jumped down to the lower levels to get to you. You were picked up and getting ready to be taken away but he caught up, his eyes angry, watering as if he felt like he was going to lose you.

"You damn idiot! Why the hell would you push yourself so hard, huh?!" His voice cracking but he continued to keep his anger to topple his worry and sadness.

"Bakugou, please, go back to your seat," Nightmare had asked which got ignored by the blonde.

"Were you trying to prove a fucken point by what, hurting yourself?!" He got closer to you, the stretcher holding your limp body. He was stopped by Todoroki who only held him back with a hand on his shoulder. The blonde looked back with blind rage but the heterochromatic eyes that looked back at him told him to calm down and that's all it took for Katsuki to growl under his breath and leave the stadium.

-

You were quickly rushed to Recovery Girl and were diagnosed. You had to rest in bed for quite a while until your arms could properly heal. Since popping a vessel can be healed in short of a few days with the help of medical professionals, what will be a hassle would be the shoulder that you tore. It wasn't a massive tear but it wasn't something that shouldn't be taken lightly. After all, you should have lost both your arms if they tore even more, and no thanks to you who wanted to push yourself against Todoroki. Really, it might have sucked but you tried.

Your thoughts might have been running a lot but they all stopped once you blacked out, and once you woke up again, they came back. The headache was intolerable making tears roll down your eyes as if they paused until your mind was able to process what was happening.

The first thing you saw was the walls. You recognized them. Of course, you felt stiff and a lot more pain than you anticipated, but at least the silence got you to sigh in relief.

"It seems like I couldn't make it, huh," You had asked yourself with a sigh coming right after. You wondered if Todoroki was disappointed in his victory or was he glad about it. There was no reason for him to not be glad but what do you know. I'm sure as heck that I don't.

A sudden sound of a door sliding open caught your attention. You assumed it was Recovery Girl but the familiar green hair and expression made your eyes soften, remembering how those same eyes were still very much the same as the ones looking back at you right now.

"Your arms," He had said, walking in and closing the door behind him, his eyes still trailing the bandages on your arms. Your smile was forced but you did it to not worrying him which only made him worry even more.

"I'm okay. I was told to rest. My arms aren't as bad as they seem.” If you moved then maybe the pain will come back for a split second. It felt a bit suffocating to feel Izuku here but who else was going to come aside from your classmates?

“Y/n, you’ve been noticeably pushing yourself and you make it seem like everything is okay.”

“Because everything is okay.”

“But you’re hurt, Y/n. Do you not see that?” Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to push your limits in this case even when it is just for fun. Has it ever stopped Izuku from doing the same? You watched him how he destroyed himself just to make a point and win against Todoroki but he lost, and his wounds were more severe than you’d had seen. You don’t know how the boy in front of you got a quirk but he did and he was now telling you the same advice you were sure he was told.

“How about you take your own advice, Izuku,” You had told him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “I understand you are worried but I’m fine. Really.” You were able to tell that he was not satisfied with your response. He walked closer to you and sat at the chair that was near your bed. It was only there because Recovery Girl was talking to you as she made sure you were okay. You had focused on the boy, not realizing that he had begun to talk again.

“I understand how you feel about Kaachan but he is truly is worried about you.”

“I can’t really say that’s true when he doesn’t show his feelings towards anyone. All he does is get angry.” It went silent again and neither one of you said a single thing, not even when Izuku left the room to let you rest. Your thoughts were cloudy and you weren't sure if the only reason you felt like that was because Izuku came to see you. He mentioned Katsuki knowing that you felt some sort of way about him. Of course, he knew. 

It had been a while of just sitting around, seeing a lot of your classmate enter and disappear, going back to the probably rowdy lunch room. You were astonished by the student coming in and out, questioning you whether or not you were okay. Your sadden eyes took notice of the look on some of their faces, showing signs of worry and you hadn't felt cared for in this way for a long time. It was even more apparent in Izuku's eyes, the way his lips tried turning upright into a smile but quickly turned into a frown.

Going through the many possibilities of what to do as you rested, the groans came out each time you tried adjusting yourself, your arms aching, becoming stiff when you moved them on top of your lap. It was getting late at this point, noticing that the sun outside was now setting, the beautiful oranges and pinks painting the sky. It looked very out of the ordinary but it was beautiful nonetheless. In the short time it took you to be mesmerized, recovery girl had entered the room, her clipboard in hand and someone else following her. It was Todoroki and Kirishima, looking guilty and you right away noticed it. You wondered if they were gonna apologize when it wasn't even their faults.

"Heyy," Kirishima's nervous voice elongating his greeting. Todoroki didn't say anything but you meeting his eyes was enough of a greeting to you. "How're you feeling?" The red headed added, coming closer to the bed with Todoroki trailing behind him.

"I'm okay. I should recover pretty soon," You answered with a soft smile.

"Was it serious?" Todoroki was the one to ask this time, and you tilted your head slightly to the side.

"In a way? But I'm fine." Your short responses only gave the boys knots in their stomach. Kirishima wasn't here for himself but he also wanted to apologize to you, remembering that the reason he was here was because of Bakugou.

"Hey, um, I'm sorry you ended up like this. I'm also sorry Bakugou caused a scene."

You shook your head. "I'm used to it. I've known him for years. It's not the first time he caused a scene like that especially in front of that many people."

Kirishima gave you a small smile, and rub the back of his neck. "I actually came on behalf of Bakugou. He was suppose to come but he didn't have the courage to do so. I'm sorry, he said he didn't want to but knowing him, I know it's because he's too shy."

Katsuki? Shy? Since when? You were completely confused but you felt as if asking would just make you sound dumb. The blonde was an aggressive Pomeranian who never thought and just acted on his feelings. You couldn't remember much of what happened but you heard his voice, and it was worrisome, which troubled you greatly. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to get your hopes up when it came to Bakugou. It will turn bad if your hopes just became that, hope.

You shook your head in disbelief and lightly smiled to Katsuki’s friend, making him a bit nervous when you tried adjusting yourself. “By the way, who won?” Both boys looked at each other, and Kirishima decided to respond for the both of them.

“It should be a given. He won a second time in a row.” You didn’t know whether to jump in joy , and even the faces of the boys seem off to you that it felt like they wanted you to be happy for the guy. You told yourself that you shouldn’t be but… maybe this time-

“I’m… glad he won.” It should have been convincing enough, but maybe not entirely, either way, Todoroki and Kirishima took the hint and didn’t press on, their now nervous expressions becoming softer. After the awkward silence, Kirishima smiled and reassured you that everything with Bakugou will be okay. Todoroki didn’t really know how to say goodbye so he nodded with a light blush, walking out before Kirishima. They were gone and the room became quiet again.

You hadn’t realized that you had been holding your breath, exhaling and letting the heaviness of your heart finally deplete as you laid back into your pillow. “Am I really glad he won?”

You had left the infirmary with a brace holding your arm in place. You went home with you parents, walking into your room and sitting on your bed with your mind very much occupied with the events that happened today. You looked around with your eyes pinpointing a small plush that was gifted to you at a young age. It was nothing too weird, just a regular cat plush that a particular blonde had gifted to you. He was sweet back in middle school, even if he was bullying Deku all the time.

You walked over to it, looking it over and inspecting it with the saddest eyes and smile. You let it go, playing it next to your old instruments you don’t play anymore. It will gather up dust if it stays there, but that’s okay. You felt like this was better than letting him get to your head. He rarely came to you unless it was to fight and argue, and even Deku was no exception. They aren’t your friends anymore, but you’re glad they are striving, and you have to do the same.

[mostlymobilegames]

I will win.

warnings: younger!Fencio, mentions of pain?? I think that's about it

summary: Unclaimed!Rebecca being herself

author's note: i get nostalgic about Rebecca every time I enter the app, this is just some ??backstory?? idk, i just missed her and I forced myself to not let this idea marinate in my notes for 29 years

•

My legs burn as I land on the ground violently again. Dust and rocks fly in every direction as I try to calm down.

Everything hurts. My back aches while my wings feel too heavy for it, my eyes are watery, my throat is unbelievably dry, my legs feel like they won’t keep me up for much longer and if I wasn’t so tired I might be bothered by the sweat making my clothes stick to my body. Almost there.

As I prepare to take off once again, something moves in my line of sight, but the wall of dust makes it impossible to see. Not that I need to, I feel him before I even hear his footsteps approaching. I take off immediately, every part of my body hurting in protest, my wings flapping with powerful moves despite the pain as I soar up and for a second I almost enjoy the brief sense of peace. I plunge back to the ground at full speed, my legs nearly giving out as I land once again. Fencio moves his hand leisurely, a strand of long, white hair along with it on accident, and the dust in the air vanishes as I try to compose myself. So much pain.

“Rebecca” he says in greeting, his voice distant but not hostile or arrogant.

“Throne Fencio.”

My voice comes out sharply as I struggle to control my breathing. My legs feel wobbly and I know I look completely unpleasant. I worry about embarrassing myself but Fencio doesn’t seem even a little put off by my current demeanor, although that’s not surprising. After knowing him for a short time, I figured he is not easy to read at all, which I find annoying, given that he usually has such a good read on me. He is either a good actor or there’s nothing worth his reactions. Or maybe I’m not good enough at picking him apart.

“Tomorrow is an important day for you.”  So this is why he came.

After that… incident with my first assignment, Fencio kept true to his word. He followed my progress attentively, helped me with my studies and my training, teaching me how to manage without him or anyone and interfering only when necessary. His help never came with the condescension I often got from other immortals, even the low ranked ones, my fellow students, and I always felt the need to prove myself to him because of that. And then to prove myself to anyone who challenges me, but I am not there yet.

“I know.” I say confidently as I can feel my body healing itself slowly. It’s not much but I would be nothing without it, and I know that by tomorrow I’ll be fully recovered.

Fencio says nothing for a moment and I feel uneasy. Something sparkles in his eyes and his lips twitch, which is something he does rarely, but I always notice, and I never know what it means. It’s all gone in an instant and he’s back to his neutral expression, as usual.

“I have no doubt that you’ll kill the Serpent and that it will improve your reputation greatly” he pauses and I feel something inside me stir. Does he actually think I’ll fail and he’s just being nice?

The thought of Fencio seeing me as a disappointment makes me angry, but I know that can’t be true. He noticed my potential, my drive from the beginning and took me under his wing. I worked and I work hard for everything, but I know I would have never gotten this far, this quick without him. Some days I feel like he sees me like his part-time project, someone to mold into a better immortal because he decided it’s his responsibility. Other days I can consider him my confidant, since calling him a friend seems out of line, but Fencio has done nothing to betray my trust. Most days however, he is, without a doubt, my mentor, and now I feel ashamed for questioning his intentions, even if his attitude is making me wary.

“I won’t be able to attend the competition due to some personal matters, but I’ll seek you out afterwards as soon as I can.” he says and I feel immediate relief. I was worrying for nothing.

“Of course.” I respond and he shifts as if to signify he wants to leave.

“I’ll let you finish your workout. Don’t stay up too late. Rest well and… good luck.”

I nod and scoff internally, he says nothing more but makes no move to leave.

Suit yourself then. I turn around and walk a few steps away from him so I can properly spread my wings, and take off, glad that the pain still lingers but is much more bearable. I swear I can feel his eyes on me as I ascend, but when I turn around to drop down he isn't there, and I can’t contain my grin any longer.

Good luck? I don’t need luck.

…

I open the window wide as the cold breeze of the night sweeps into my room.

After I finished training and took a well-deserved shower, I went to bed. Even though I wanted to sleep until the morning, my body apparently had other plans and I woke up a few hours later, feeling refreshed and infinitely grateful for my immortal powers and my fast recovering body.

I realize immediately I’m alone in my dorm room. It’s pretty late and dark outside, which means my roommate is out doing something I’d rather not know about, since I doubt she’s training this late. She better not bring back any issues with her, I have enough on my plate.

I take a deep breath of fresh air and let it soothe my worries and clear my head. Everything is fine. Cliffs and bits of land levitate in the horizon, poorly illuminated by the moon and the glowing insects of different sizes hanging around them. A giggle is heard somewhere below me but it stops almost instantly, returning the night to its comforting silence. Something moves in the distance, seemingly coming up from behind a tree. I can’t make out who it is, but I am sure the figure is facing me and I recognize the blood red colored wings in a second. They flap lazily in that inviting gesture I’m way too familiar with. There are no demands made, no expectations or formalities to deal with, just the chance to spend some time with him, and I know I have no obligation to accept or respond.

Still, I wait, unmoving. It’s late and the chances of us getting caught together are small, there is no one out there. But what if someone follows me? There are too many immortals that don’t like me and it’s not exactly like I try to make friends. A part of me doesn’t think any of them would go to the extent of actively trying to ruin me, but it’s better to never underestimate the hatred one can build up for someone else. For someone better.

I don’t get to think more about it since he takes my lack of reaction as a refusal and flies back behind the same tree. I should take his leave as a blessing and go to bed, or do something else, but I don’t. I think about what would happen if I got caught, all of my efforts going to waste for the most stupid reason. I think about how everyone who ever doubted me would be right and I’d never get to prove them wrong, and how I could lose everything in the blink of an eye like back on Earth.

I climb the out the window with newfound strength, as I concentrate on my surroundings. There’s no one after me. I spread my wings and jump, hoping no one is staying by the window to witness an Unclaimed breaking curfew. Thankfully, I get there quickly and quietly, and I’m surprised to see Winchesto sitting down, his back against a thick tree trunk. I was sure he left and I would’ve had to find him.

He turns his head towards me and grins, his face full of happiness. Seeing him so glad to see me hurts.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” he says but there isn’t a hint of anything negative in his tone, as if he wouldn’t have blamed me for not following him. I know he wouldn’t have.

I say nothing as I slide down next to him, so close that our sides touch. The contact is small and delicate, barely there, but it feels like a battle is starting inside me. I turn to look at him as he does the same, our faces so close I can’t tell if my breathing is so loud or his. Winchesto’s eyes are gentle and there’s something so peaceful behind them, something that makes it so easy to relax. This could end us both. I tense up as my thoughts go in the wrong direction again. He notices and, as if reading my mind, he backs away a little and I feel awful, even though I know it’s for the best. For both of us.

“I’ll cheer for you tomorrow.” he breaks the silence, like I didn’t just reject him indirectly moments ago.

I laugh, but it sounds forced even to my own ears.

“That would raise some eyebrows.” I say half jokingly, half concerned and Winchesto shrugs, as if nothing could ever get him in trouble.

“Angels and demons get excited for this too, even if they don’t participate. If you think about it, they probably enjoy it more than their usual competitions, because they get the entertainment without the repercussions of losing. Many of them pick their favorites among the Unclaimed so they can place bets on them or just make a big deal out of whoever wins and gloat.”

“Did you bet on me?” I ask genuinely curious but Winchesto ignores my question.

“My point is: no one will care if I cheer for you, they’ll all be busy cheering too... or booing.”

I laugh honestly as he smiles sweetly, the tension from before long forgotten. We sit in silence after that, looking every now and then at each other, and neither of us seems to mind it. Neither of us feels like the silence is painful and that it needs to be disrupted and I realize, in that moment, that Winchesto is so dear to me, that I trust him so much, that I want to be around him and share everything with him, knowing he’d never use anything against me. I want to tell him about my worries, about my goals, about my pain and my life from before, about how I’ll achieve everything I’ve ever wanted and how I’ll be at the top. For a second, I even want to tell him about how I scouted the path to the Serpent and memorized every detail, or how I’ve hidden weapons along the way into the secluded spots I found in case I run out of energy.

But I don’t. I don’t tell him anything, and the part of me that’s been trying to keep me at bay, the part that I’ve cultivated so carefully knows I am doing what’s right. For both of us. It’s safe for Winchesto to not know what could hurt him, even if he’d like to know as much as I’d like to tell.

It’s late.

I stand up abruptly, dusting myself off while he continues to sit, looking at me calmly. I start walking away, knowing how it looks and hoping he doesn’t feel the hurt as much as me. I don’t want to leave like this, but I feel lost and I don’t know how to deal with it.

“Good night, Rebecca.” he whispers loud enough for me to hear it.

I let out a breath I haven’t realized I’ve been holding on and turn my head to look at him. He’s still sitting comfortably, looking unfazed and I’m glad. I’m glad it’s not that bad for him, or maybe he just takes it better than me.

“You should bet on me tomorrow. I will win.” is the only thing I say to him before taking off, leaving him there and not looking back.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

How We Break and How We Mend

Summary: Logan had only ever had one wish since he first fell in love: to not be in love anymore. Soon enough, he realizes there are better things to wish for. Content: Abusive ex, (talk of) the consequences of mental/emotional abuse, mention of a cut (consequence of physical abuse), dub-con kissing, general worry and concern, happy ending Pairing: Losleep

~

Since middle school, Logan had only ever had one wish: to stop being in love with Remy Crescent. At first, it had been because he was simply out of Logan’s league- he was popular, Logan was not. And then it had been because they were friends, because as much as Logan loved Remy he would never risk destroying anything that made him happy… and their friendship made Remy happy. Then it had been because Remy was in love with someone else, and damn did unrequited pining feel like shit.

But he wasn’t wishing for it now. No, right now he was wishing for something very different- the instantaneous removal of Remy’s (now ex-) boyfriend from existence.

They were sitting on Logan’s couch- Logan’s couch because Remy didn’t have a couch anymore, Logan’s couch because Remy didn’t have anywhere else to go anymore, Logan’s couch because Remy had finally- finally- left his ex. Sitting on Logan’s couch because it was as good a spot as any for Logan to patch up the cut on Remy’s cheek from where the son-of-a-bitch had hit him.

Logan hadn’t liked Remy’s boyfriend from the start. There had always been something wrong about him. But he had ended up putting it off- it was likely just him being envious, feeling as if he wasn’t good for Remy because Logan was the only one good for Remy. So he had put his personal feelings aside and focused on recognizing that Remy’s boyfriend wasn’t inherently bad just because he wasn’t Logan.

And that worked, at first, a few weeks going by during which Logan was only slightly uneasy by Remy’s boyfriend. He seemed to be a good person, a little quick to anger and in need of a better sense of humor, but overall fine. And Remy seemed happy with him, so Logan was happy.

But then Logan started to notice other things. How Remy acted restrained around him. How Remy started to act restrained even when he wasn’t around. How Remy would apologize for things he didn’t need to apologize for, how he would act around Logan as if he were treading on ice, how he’d flinch at loud noises and how his humor became much more self-deprecating than it ever had been before.

Quickly (and yet not nearly quickly enough), Logan realized what was happening. Remy was in an abusive relationship. Not physically abusive, no, but certainly mentally and emotionally.

Logan had tried to get him out of it, of course. But some things were easier said than done. By the time Logan knew what was going on, Remy was caught up in the lies and the abuse. Nothing Logan said could convince him how bad his boyfriend was for him. So Logan was left waiting, waiting for something to break, for the perfect chance to finally get Remy out.

But he never wanted it to happen like this.

“I’m an idiot.” Remy had been muttering that to himself for a minute, over and over as he dug his nails into his legs. “A complete moron. No wonder he went after me, I was the perfect mark, no fucking common sense whatsoever-”

“Don’t say that.” Logan reprimanded as softly as he could. Remy’s ex had already ordered him around enough, Logan didn’t want to be doing it either, but he couldn’t let Remy keep mumbling self-hate. Carefully, Logan patted down the edges of the bandage he had secured over Remy’s cut. “You aren’t stupid, Remy. He manipulated you. Anyone could have been his victim.”

“But it wasn’t anyone, was it?” Remy spat, flinching and drawing in on himself almost immediately after he spoke. “I- I’m sorry, Lo, I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t.” Logan assured him, putting the first aid kit aside before turning his full attention back to Remy. “You are distressed and have just come out of an abusive relationship. I’m not going to hold anything you say against you.”

Remy chuckled bitterly. “You should.”

“No, I shouldn’t.” Logan responded, taking one of Remy’s hands in his own. He squeezed it gently, hoping the pressure would be comforting and grounding. “You are emotionally unstable for perfectly valid reasons. Your words should not and will not be held against you, not by me.”

“...Thanks.” Remy said, letting out a small sigh and deflating a bit. He squeezed Logan’s hand back as well, which gave Logan some hope. “So… what now?”

“Now, you rest and recover.” Logan said. “Tonight, you will sleep, or at least attempt to. You can stay here as long as you need to, and I will do my best to help you identify and address- to the best of your ability- taught negative behaviours. In a week, I will call my uncle, who is a therapist, and get a session arranged for you.”

“A therapist?” Remy repeated, sounding skeptical. “That seems a little extreme for a break-up, don’t you think?”

Logan held Remy’s hand just the slightest bit tighter. “You have been in a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship for nearly nine months.” Logan stated, trying to keep his voice measured and not filled with fury. All his anger was directed at Remy’s ex, but that didn’t mean Remy would interpret it that way. “This is more than just a break-up, and it is logical that you seek professional help to properly work through the consequences of that relationship.”

“...Okay.” Remy said, voice resigned in a way Logan despised. “I trust you, Logan.” And Logan hated that too. The words sounded too forced, the line too rehearsed. Maybe Remy did trust him, but that wasn’t what his words meant. They were a defense against Logan lashing out if he didn’t agree. And even though Logan had expected it, he still hated that Remy’s ex didn’t need to be around to hurt him.

But those weren’t things he could address right then. Remy needed to rest, to let the final strains of fresh adrenaline and fear run out of his system.

“You should get some sleep.” Logan told him, beginning to stand up. “I’ll fetch you some blankets, and you can sleep on the couch-”

Remy’s grip on Logan’s hand tightened just the slightest as Logan tried to pull away. “Please don’t go.”

“It’ll just be for a moment.” Logan assured Remy, even as he once more took his seat in front of Remy. “I’ll be back, Remy, I promise.”

“I know, I just-” Remy shook his head, letting out a huff. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Logan replied immediately. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Remy looked down, not speaking for a moment but not letting go of Logan either before speaking up again. “You’re so smart, Lo.”

“I- what?”

“I said you’re smart. Because you are, you really are.” Remy said, looking up again. “And helpful. Even to people who don’t deserve your help.”

“Remy, I don’t-”

“And pretty.” Remy continued, ignoring Logan as he leaned forwards, free hand coming to rest on Logan’s cheek. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, hun.”

And before Logan could say another word, Remy was kissing him.

For a millisecond, Logan froze. Some small part of his brain was cheering in victory- he was kissing Remy, after all, his dream since seventh grade. Wasn’t it something to be celebrated?

But Logan knew it wasn’t. He knew that this wasn’t love, that this wasn’t anything good, anything to be excited over. And for all he had thought about kissing Remy before, Remy’s happiness and well-being had always been his priority.

So just as soon as the kiss started, it was over, Logan pushing Remy off of him even as he held the other man’s shoulders and kept him from trying to kiss him again. “Remy, no.”

“Logan-”

“No, Remy. You can’t do this. I can’t let you do this.”

“I love you.” Remy said, and Logan hated that there were tears in the corner of his eyes, already threatening to spill. Logan wasn’t sure if Remy believed what he was saying, but he wanted to. He needed to. 

“No, you don’t.” Logan replied, ignoring the pain in his metaphorical heart at the words. “You’ve been manipulated into believing you are lesser than other people and that, therefore, to be worth anything you must be worth something to someone else. Your ex tricked you into believing that someone else was him, and now that he’s gone you’re simply trying to fill the gap. Even if- even if you did love me, nothing we could have would be healthy.”

“But I trust you, Lo.” Remy pleaded, grabbing Logan’s other hand so that he could hold both of them, squeezing them. “I trust you not to hurt me.”

“And I would never.” Logan agreed. “But that doesn’t change the facts. You’re… you’re looking for someone to make you whole, Remy, and that’s not what love is, even if that’s what your ex tried to convince you it was. You need to heal, and trying to convince yourself that you’re in love with me won’t give you that.”

Remy broke then, letting out a single sob before he collapsed against Logan, crying into his shoulder and holding him close like he might disappear if Remy let go. Logan held back, rubbing circles into Remy’s back, focused on letting him cry before calming him back down. He needed it, after all.

And if a tear or two slipped down Logan’s face too, well, it wasn’t like any one was going to notice.

~

“Logan? Come on, babe, I know you’re home. Don’t leave a pretty man waiting!”

Logan sighed as he placed down his book, but the sound was only fond. For Remy, it would never be anything else. He stood up, walked to the door and opened it.

It had been almost two years since Remy had broken up with his abusive ex, and the difference was clear. Remy was smiling happily, sunglasses pushed up on the top of his head to reveal bright eyes with minimal bags beneath them. The leather jacket Logan had bought him to replace the one his ex had given away (without Remy’s permission) was slung over his shoulder, and everything about Remy’s pose figuratively screamed relaxed and carefree.

“Can I come in?” Remy asked, brushing by Logan even as he spoke. Logan could do little more than laugh at the action as he closed the door. Most people would have seen it as annoying. Logan saw it as another reminder than Remy had his confidence back and that he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“I suppose even if I say ‘no’ you’re not going to leave, are you?” Logan teased as he turned to face Remy.

“Nope! Because I’d know you were lying.” Remy said, turning from where he had been taking in Logan’s living room (a sight he had seen many a time before) to face Logan, grinning. “I’m always welcome here, remember?”

“I’d never forget.” Logan promised. “Though you don’t tend to swing by with no reason- looking for someone to annoy?”

Remy laughed at the joke, but the sound was hesitant, and Logan stiffened. Though Remy in general was alright with teasing jokes, Logan knew there were still times when he couldn’t take them- times when he couldn’t remember that Logan’s words weren’t serious.

Logan approached Remy, taking both of Remy’s hands into his own, lightly squeezing them. Over time, it had remained the most efficient way to ground Remy. “I’m sorry, Rem, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Hey, darling, don’t worry about it.” Remy responded, squeezing back and smiling softly at Logan. “You didn’t upset me, don’t worry. I just… I’m here to ask you something.”

“You know you can always ask me anything.” Logan reminded him.

“I know, but… doesn’t always make it easy, heh.” Remy said, letting out a small chuckle as he looked away. When he stayed that way for a moment, Logan gently tightened his hold on Remy’s hands, pulling his attention back to Logan.

“It’s okay.” Logan assured him, offering him a matching soft smile. “Whatever you need to ask me, it’s okay. I will not judge you in any way.”

Remy nodded at Logan’s words, taking a moment to take a breath and collect himself before he said, “Logan… will you date me?”

Of all the questions Logan had been expecting, that certainly hadn’t been one of them.

“We’d take it slow at first, of course.” Remy continued on, seemingly undaunted by Logan’s silence. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because I still don’t… fully trust myself. I don’t want either of us to get hurt, especially not you.”

“I… Remy, are you sure about this?” Logan asked, some small part of his brain screaming at him for being an idiot. Remy wanted to date him, for goodness’s sake, and all he had to do was say yes!

But for all that time had changed, Logan’s resolve to keep Remy safe and happy remained unchanged. He wasn’t going to let the past possibly ruin Remy’s future.

“I know why you’re worried. And I get it. That night I broke up with him… I was a wreck. I did things we both know I regret. I felt broken and I thought you were the only thing that could fix me, and I was hasty. And I can never apologize enough for that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for it at all.”

“Then I won’t. But my point remains.” Remy pushed on. “What I did that night,,, that was a mistake. But that doesn’t change the fact that I was being honest when I told you I loved you, Logan. The timing was horrible, but it was true. It’s always been true, ever since high school. And while you were right back then, when you said anything we had would be unhealthy, I think… I think if we try now, it could be something good.” Remy paused to smile almost ruefully at Logan. “And I think we deserve something good.”

Logan squeezed Remy’s hands. “You deserve everything good.”

Remy’s smile grew. “That’s why… that’s why I want to date you Logan. I think we’d be something good- better than good; I think we’d be great. But not if it’s going to hurt you.”

Logan frowned. “Hurt me?”

“Don’t say yes because you want me to be happy. Say yes because you want to, or say no.” Remy explained. “I will love you the same either way. But I had to ask. I don’t want to let one bad night define what we could be.” Remy paused to smirk. “Plus, my therapist says me ignoring my feelings is repression, and he’s got a big no-no policy on that.”

“Therapists do tend to frown down on that, yeah.” Logan agreed, laughing.

Remy laughed too before the two of them fell into silence- comfortable silence, as it always was between them. It never felt awkward, just… right.

“So… what do you say?” Remy asked again, voice gentle as he asked. “Like I said, no wrong answers- and if you need time to think about it, I can go-”

“I’d love to.” Logan cut him off, blushing a bit as he clarified, “Love to try, that is. Try… try us.”

“Really?” Remy asked, leaning in close to Logan’s face. “No lies? You really honestly want to date me?”

“I’ve wanted to date you since middle school.” Logan admitted shyly. “Trust me, Remy. This isn’t pity.”

Remy’s eyes lit up as his smile once more morphed into a grin. “Can I hug you?”

“Please do.”

Letting go of Logan’s hands, Remy’s arms wrapped around Logan, pulling him close up against Remy, his hold tight but not restraining. Logan wrapped his arms around Remy, hugging back. It was perfect.

For a moment, they stayed like that, happy to just be in each other’s company.

“I love us.’’ Remy said quietly, breaking the silence but not hurting the moment in the slightest.

“We’ve been ‘us’ for all of a minute.” Logan pointed out.

“Don’t care.” Remy responded, resting his chin on top of Logan’s head. “I love us.”

Logan let out a small chuckle as he leaned against Remy, fully accepting the embrace. “I love us too.”

And for once, Logan was happy his middle school wish had never been granted.

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome

Somebody probably should have warned Howard.

-

Peggy felt a need to wash her face again before she went back to the infirmary to see how Steve was getting along.  She didn’t doubt he’d be just fine, as he always was, but there was a part of her that really needed to see for herself.  Like Howard wanting to stay at the crash site, it would be a while before she felt sure he wouldn’t simply vanish if she turned her back.

She stood in front of the mirror and tried to fix her hair a little, but in the end decided that was a lost cause.  It had been days since she’d been able to wash up properly, and while the redness and swelling from Kay’s chemical spray had gone down, the windburn of the long, cold helicopter flight was still very visible, as were the effects of her recent bout of tears.  She had no fresh clothes to put on, and no makeup to cover anything. She looked grotesque.

So of course when she sat down by Steve’s bedside, he smiled at her and said, “you look beautiful.”

“I do not!” she snorted, “and I ought to thump you one for such a lie!”

“You can’t thump me, I’m a sick man!” Steve protested, and wiggled down under the covers trying to look pathetic.  It failed, of course.  He’d been sitting up and eating when Peggy entered the room.

“You’re as well as you’ve ever been in your life, Steve Rogers,” said Peggy, “and I believe the doctors will take my side on that!”

One of said doctors – sporting a picturesque black eye from the earlier fight – looked up from a clipboard.  “I wouldn’t say that,” he said, “but he’s well on his way to recovery. Amazing.”  He shook his head.  “Never seen anything like it.”

“I hear that a lot,” said Steve, but his smile was gone now. “It’s really been three years?” he asked Peggy.

She nodded.  “Yes, darling.  We didn’t realize you’d gone so far north.”

“Huh.”  He looked away.  “I can’t believe you kept looking for me that long.”

Peggy’s insides twisted.  “Well… we didn’t, honestly.  Schmidt was dead and Hitler shot himself just a few days later, but there was still the Pacific theatre, and…”  She swallowed.  “Howard found the cube and we locked that away, but after that the army wouldn’t fund the search anymore.”

“Oh,” said Steve.

She grabbed his hand.  “If we’d known you were alive, we would never have let it go that long,” she promised… though that probably didn’t reassure him.  He must be thinking what she had, wondering if he might have had to wait centuries or millennia.  At least he hadn’t heard Kay tell Peggy that seventy years would have been more than long enough.  “I’m so sorry, Steve, but… well, we thought you were dead.  After a few weeks in the arctic…”  They’d been certain that even Steve must have perished, if he hadn’t been killed instantly in the crash.

“Right, right.”  He nodded, and brought a hand up to her cheek.  “Don’t apologize, Peggy, it’s… you were right, I should have given you my position.  I saw the ground coming and I… at the last minute there…”  He swallowed hard.

Peggy shut her eyes as tears threatened to overflow again, and wrapped both her hands around his to squeeze it tight.  Nobody could have foreseen this.  Nobody but a woman to whom it was already the long-ago past.

“Did you ever find him?” Steve asked.  “I mean… Bucky?  Or…”

She knew if she opened her eyes she’d find him looking right into them… and she also knew they’d be full of desperate hope even as he already knew what the answer would be.  “I’m afraid not.  The valleys there are impassable most of the year…”

“The Russians found him,” said Kay.

Peggy hadn’t even realized she’d entered the room, but when she looked up, she found Kay standing at the end of Steve’s bed.  Her blonde hair was askew and flattened by her hat, and her face, too, was pink and puffy from crying, but she still looked better than Peggy did.

“They were in the area at the time,” she added. “They knew HYDRA had a route through there and they were looking for anything that might have fallen from the trains.  They didn’t know who he was, but they found him and took him back with them.  The dead HYDRA men, too.”

Steve nodded.  “That’s good… I’m glad somebody took care of him.”

“It’s not quite as simple as that,” said Kay, “but I’ll tell you more when you’re feeling better.”  She turned around, and walked out of the room.

Steve sat up a little, as if he planned to get up and follow her, but Peggy and the doctor both took hold of him and gently pushed him back down onto the bed.

“Steve, don’t, she won’t tell you anything until she’s ready,” Peggy said.

“Captain Rogers,” the doctor said at the same time, “you need to recover your strength.”

“I feel fine!” Steve protested, but he must have been tired, because he lay back down and rested his head on the pillow.  “Who is she?” he asked Peggy.

“I… I’m not entirely sure,” Peggy replied.  “I know she’s Russian.  She’s told me a story about her past but I don’t know whether to believe it.  She did know where to find you, though.”  Kay didn’t seem to be an enemy, but Peggy still wasn’t sure she really counted as an ally, either.  She definitely wasn’t a friend, though, there was no question about that.

Steve nodded.  “If she can tell us where his grave is…”

“I don’t know if that will be possible,” Peggy warned. “The relationship between the US and the USSR has deteriorated a bit.”

She wondered if she should have phrased it that way. Would Steve wonder if other relationships might have deteriorated?  He now knew how long he’d been gone…

His thoughts must have been tending in that general direction, because the next thing he said was, “I know I’m late… but is there any chance we could still make that dance?”

Peggy ducked her head as if to hide a blush – but really to hide the tears that were welling up again.  “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.  But even that was a lie, wasn’t it?  How could she have that long-delayed dance with Steve when she’d found somebody else?  Daniel wouldn’t begrudge her one dance, but would he believe her if she promised it would only be one dance?

She couldn’t tell Steve about Daniel yet.  Not when he’d only just awakened and had so many other things to catch up on, but the longer she waited the harder it would be.

- 

The Valiant had to return to its normal route patrolling the arctic ocean, so a couple of days later, when the doctors were satisfied that Steve wasn’t about to suddenly collapse, he, Masters, Peggy, and Kay were loaded into a small plane to take them to Nome, Alaska.  The crew of the carrier turned out in their dress uniforms with a band playing to send them off, and somebody had made a Welcome Back Captain America banner to hang from the ship’s superstructure.  Steve smiled awkwardly and waved to them as he climbed into the plane.

“Get used to it,” Peggy murmured to him.  “I imagine there’ll be a very similar reception waiting for you when we reach the mainland.”

“Oh, several of them,” Kay agreed.  “You’re going to have to make a cross-country tour.”

“Great, something to look forward to,” said Steve sarcastically.

“You’ve never liked being fussed over,” she observed.

“When I was little it usually meant they thought I was going to die,” Steve told her.

The plane took off into a clear blue arctic sky, heading southwest over Alaska to get to the town of Nome.  Steve sat looking out the window, but he kept his hand in hers, and she couldn’t help looking at him.  The cuts and bruises she’d helped him with after the train were healing quickly, as they always did.  In a couple more days they’d be gone.  There was already no trace to show he’d spent three years frozen in the sea ice. Physically as well as mentally, he hadn’t aged a day.

Peggy had been a year younger than him when he’d left. She wondered if she would now be considered two years older.

He glanced back and noticed her staring, and she quickly turned her head.  “Sorry,” Peggy said.  “I just… can’t quite believe you’re real.”

One of the things they hadn’t been sure of, one of the things Erskine had never been able to test, was the question of whether somebody who’d had the serum would age normally.  Not enough time had passed to see whether Steve was getting older, but the fact that he’d survived this latest ordeal made it seem unlikely that time could touch him.  What would happen if in twenty years, Peggy had gotten older and Steve had not?

During the war they’d both been ready to deal with that as it came.  Steve probably still was.  Peggy wasn’t so sure.

“What about you?” she asked, trying to distract herself from that uncomfortable thought and the problems surrounding it.  “What are you looking at out there?”

“Nothing, exactly,” he said.  “I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?” Peggy asked.

“About what Buck would have said if he were here. He, uh… he would have told me I’m an idiot,” Steve said with an embarrassed smile.  “He would have told me that if I’d given it a few more days I would have realized I didn’t want to die, and he’d be right.  In the last few seconds when I knew the water was coming in, I tried to get out.  But I couldn’t.  He wouldn’t have wanted me to die.”

“I could have told you that,” said Peggy.

“I’m surprised you haven’t yet,” said Kay from the seat behind them.

“I was saving it for when the initial joy wore off,” Peggy replied.  “Then I was going to give him a real earful.”

Kay giggled, but Peggy had to suppress a shudder.  His last thought being that he didn’t want to die after all, only for him to wake up and find he was alive but three years had gone by without him… that had to be enough of a shock.  Three years, however, was merely a hiatus – seventy was a lifetime.  She rearranged her fingers, lacing them through his, and wished Kay hadn’t painted quite so vivid a picture of it.

- 

There was no fanfare waiting for them in Nome, to Steve’s obvious relief.  When they landed on the little airstrip, there was nobody there to meet them but a few more military men, and Howard and Jason.  The ramp came down, and Kay was the first off the plane, followed by Peggy and Steve.  Howard was so happy to see any of them that he ran up to give Kay a hug.

“What do they feed you Russian girls to make you indestructible?” he asked.

“Various experimental versions of the super-soldier serum,” Kay replied.

Howard blinked and then held her out at arm’s length again to examine her facial expression.  She remained entirely deadpan, but after a moment he decided she was joking, and laughed awkwardly before turning to hug Peggy.

“I think you’re just too stubborn to die,” he said.

“Damned right,” Peggy agreed.  “I have far too much to do.”

He responded with a more genuine laugh and hugged her again, while Jason happily greeted Kay.  Steve had stood back for this, but then came up to take his turn saying hello to Howard, on the assumption that his friend was expecting him.

Peggy had assumed this as well.  She hadn’t told Jason that Steve was alive, but Captain Lewis must have radioed ahead to have somebody there to meet them, and would have surely told that person.  And since Peggy had told Lewis that Howard and Jason would be there as well, it seemed reasonable to her that one of the military men would have spoken to them.

Evidently this was not true.  Steve stepped forward with a smile on his face, clearly expecting a hug of his own, and said, “Howard!  Good to see you!”  But instead of returning the greeting, Howard stopped cold.  The colour drained from his face, and then his legs simply folded up underneath him.  If Peggy hadn’t caught him, he would have fallen face-first onto the asphalt.

“Is he okay?” one of the soldiers asked.

Peggy lay him down gently and took his pulse. “He’s out cold,” she said.  “I think he’ll be fine.  Does anyone have any smelling salts?”

One of the soldiers went to fetch some from the first aid kit on the airplane, while Steve and Peggy carried Howard’s unconscious body into a car so they could lie him down comfortably.  Once that was done, Steve stepped back and looked at Jason, somewhat worried about what his reaction might be.

“Captain,” said Jason.  “Dr. Jason Wilkes.  I work for Stark Industries.  I saw you once or twice during the war, but we never actually met.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Wilkes,” said Steve.  They shook hands.

The smelling salts brought Howard around, gagging. “What happened?” he groaned. “Peg?  I thought I saw…”

“You did,” Peggy told him.  “Steve’s alive.  He’s here.”

Howard sat up a bit to see Steve looking over Peggy’s shoulder, and after a moment in which he could only sit there with his mouth hanging open, he began to grin.  “Well, son of a gun!”

[allsassnoclass]

blood on my shirt, heart in my hands

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin

Rating: Teen and Up

Key Tag(s): Vampires, biting, blood

Word Count: 2912

Read on AO3

This is a sequel to my Halloween vampire Michael fic, which can be read on tumblr here or on ao3 here

—

Michael finally agrees to feed from Ashton

—

Michael has set himself up in the living room with a video game by the time Ashton wakes up and stumbles out of the bedroom.  It’s not too late, but the sun has fully risen, a few beams peaking in the windows around their blinds, paining Ashton in golden light.  His hair is messy and he’s rubbing at his eyes, wearing nothing but boxers with a trail of hickies faded against his neck and chest.

Hm.  Michael should probably redo those soon.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Michael says, returning his focus to the video game.  Ashton flops onto the couch next to him, leaning heavily on his shoulder.  Michael immediately begins leaching his warmth, even through the hoodie he’s wearing.  Something great about Ashton is that he’s always willing to keep Michael warm.

“Morning,” Ashton says, voice a little gravelly.  “Did you sleep?”

“A little,” Michael says.  “I’ve been out here for a while.”

Ashton hums.  Michael turns and presses a kiss to the top of his head, breathing him in.

“Did you eat?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah.  Tastes like shit this week, though.”

“Well, you can always take a bite of me if you want,” Ashton says, heaving himself up and stretching.  Michael watches him wander to the kitchen.

Ashton has been saying stuff like that for a long time, but Michael still hasn’t taken him up on it.  He knows that Ashton wants it, and they’ve had a few more serious discussions about the prospect of Michael feeding from him, but there’s always been something holding him back.  It’s not that Michael is scared of hurting him anymore, because they’ve both done a lot of work on getting Michael to trust himself and to trust Ashton to know his own limits, but every time Michael tries to agree he feels a lump in his throat.

The last person he fed from was named Harry.  He was human and adamant about not being turned, but Michael didn’t mind.  He loved him and was fully prepared to spend the rest of Harry’s time on Earth with him, and he thought Harry was prepared for the same.

Two months after Michael fed from him the first time, Harry disappeared.  Michael freaked out thinking something awful had happened, possibly because of him, but when he managed to track down Harry he found him perfectly content with another man.  He never tried to reach out again.

He still wonders how Harry explained the two tiny scars on his neck left by Michael’s fangs.  His saliva has a healing agent that will help close the wounds, but scars from feeding never fully fade, no matter how old they are.  If Michael did the same to Ashton, he’d have that permanently on his body.

Ashton has never given him reason to believe he’ll run away, though.  If anything, it’s Ashton who keeps making the first moves towards permanency.  He had Michael meet his family.  He first brought up the subject of them living together.  Michael may be the person who wanted a dog, but Ashton is the one who actually started looking at the ones in nearby shelters, trying to find the one that will suit both of their lifestyles perfectly.  He not only has integrated himself into Michael’s life, but has integrated Michael into his.

Ashton knows that the fangs will scar, and he still asks.

“Okay,” Michael says.

“What?” Ashton calls.  “Did you say something?”  He reappears in the doorway, mug in hand.

“I said okay.  If you’re up for it today, I’d… appreciate getting to feed from you.”

The mug slackens in Ashton’s hand.  He blinks a few times, chest shuddering on his breaths.

“You really want this, don’t you?” Michael asks.  Ashton flushes and nods.  Michael smiles and drops his fangs, and Ashton almost drops the mug, fumbling for it right before it crashes to the floor.  He barely recovers.  Michael can’t stop himself from laughing at him.

“Shut up,” Ashton says, entirely red.  “Are we--now?”

“No,” Michael says, retracting his fangs so he can talk normally.  “You need to eat first and have some water.  If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

“Okay, yeah.  Are you sure?  Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah,” Michael says.  The word comes out easily, the lump in his throat dissipating with Ashton’s reaction.  He’s ready for this.

Ashton crosses the room in a few long strides and kisses him firmly.

“Thank you,” he says, then kisses him again.  “Okay.  Breakfast.”

“Breakfast,” Michael confirms.  Ashton beelines back to the kitchen, renewed spring in his step, and Michael scrunches into his sweatshirt a little more, smiling as he presses play on his game again.

-/-

They ultimately decide to do it in the afternoon.  Ashton doesn’t eat much for breakfast and Michael needs to be sure that he has enough substance in him not to pass out.  Ashton assured him that he typically doesn’t even get woozy when he donates blood, which prompted an entire conversation about whether his blood has any inhuman properties, but Michael stayed firm.  Besides, he did feed from the magic store concoction earlier in the day, and while it wasn’t quite as much as usual he would’ve been too full if they tried anything before noon.

By 2:30, the thought of drinking from Ashton is making him salivate.

“Ash,” he says.  Ashton must hear something in his voice, or just know him really well, because he immediately turns off the tv and faces Michael expectantly.

“Are you ready?” Michael asks.

“Yes.”  Ashton chuckles a bit, just a small huff of a laugh.  “I’ve been ready for months.”  Michael rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, but do you feel up to it now?  You’ve eaten enough and kept hydrated?”

“Yes, Michael.  I promise I’m ready.”

Michael nods once.  This is happening.  Holy shit, this is really happening.

“Sit back and get comfortable,” he commands.  Ashton immediately complies, rolling his shoulders out and leaning into the sofa cushion.  Michael watches him take a few breaths, relaxing his muscles with every exhale, and when he seems as lax as he’s going to get Michael plops down on his lap.

“Hi,” Ashton says, hands immediately coming to his hips to hold him in place.

“Hi,” Michael says, brushing their noses together.  He kisses him long and slow, the type of kiss that implies they have all the time in the world to continue, and Ashton relaxes that last little bit under him.  Michael almost wants to keep doing this for the rest of the afternoon, but he has a chance to taste Ashton in another, better way, and that’s what finally makes him lean back and break the kiss.  When they part, he runs a hand through Ashton’s hair, then lets his thumb trail down from behind his ear to the base of his throat.  Ashton tilts his head, granting him clear access.  Michael watches his Adam's apple bob when he swallows.

“So,” Michael says.  “This is going to hurt.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Stop being a smartass,” Michael says, smacking his arm lightly.  “I’m literally stabbing you in the neck with two sharp points, then draining you of stuff you need to live.  We have to talk about this.”

“I know,” Ashton says soothingly, running his hands up and down Michael’s thighs.  “Thank you for being so thorough.  I’m listening, I promise.”

Michael nods once and tries to steady himself.

“I think we need a safeword.  I’m not going to take much, but if it hurts too much or you’re starting to feel faint, I need to know.”

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “What about garlic?”

“Garlic is good,” Michael says.  “You’re going to remember it?”

“Yep.  Besides, nothing will take you out of the blood sucking mood like thinking about garlic.”  He has a point.  Garlic makes Michael feel sick.  He nods.

“You can also pinch my side if you’re too woozy and can’t find words.”

“Like this?” Ashton asks right as Michael feels a sharp pain in his side.  He jolts away.

“Ow, yeah.  Exactly like that.”

“Okay,” Ashton says.  Michael nods again, staring at the part of Ashton’s neck that he’s going to bite into.  It’s smooth and tan, right next to a faded bruise low enough to be hidden by the collar of his dress shirts at work.  There are a few different arteries and veins there, and he has to be careful to get the right one and close it properly afterwards or Ashton could bleed out.  He doesn’t exactly want to test the limits of his immortality.

“Hey,” Ashton says.  “You good?”

“Yeah,” Michael nods, making himself meet Ashton’s warm hazel eyes again.  He’s gazing at Michael steadily, an easy and familiar look on his face that reminds Michael of the centuries they’ve both lived.  There’s an understanding with Ashton that he can’t find with many other people, highlighted more the longer they spend together.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Ashton says.

“I know.  It’s just… a lot.  It’s a big step.”

“I’m honored you want to take it with me,” Ashton says.  “I know it means a lot to you.”

Michael nods.  They’ve talked about the ritualistic, biological, and traditional significance of a vampire feeding directly from a live person, and Ashton knows it’s a big deal.

“Are you scared?” Ashton asks.

“No.”

“You’ve got your anxiety face on,” Ashton says.  He presses his fingers against Michael’s forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles there.  Michael rolls his eyes.

“I’m not scared.  I’m a little nervous, which is different.”

“What are you nervous about?” Ashton asks, returning his hands to Michael’s hips.  It’s one of his favorite places to rest his hands, a grounding weight when Michael is standing in front of him or sitting on his lap or laying next to him in bed.

Michael tries to find a reason and comes up empty.  He knows that Ashton is aware of his limits and will tap out if he needs, and he knows that he’s not going to take more blood than Ashton can handle.  This is a step he’s prepared to take with Ashton, and more importantly he wants to do it, longs to finally know what Ashton tastes like in this way.  Ashton wants it, too.  They’ve both communicated clearly about it, and he knows they’re on the same page.  There’s nothing to be nervous about.

“I think it’s habit now,” he says.  “I’ve been so scared to do this for so long, and even though I know it’s going to be great and I want to…”

“I get it,” Ashton says.  “What do we need to do to get rid of that?”

“Just fucking do it,” Michael shrugs.

“Sweet. Be my guest.”

Ashton bares his neck again, ready and willing.  Michael brings a hand up to brace him on the other side, just so he won’t flinch away involuntarily.

“Keep still,” he says, then drops his fangs.  Ashton’s pulse jumps, blood rushing under Michael’s hand.

“Calm down, Ash.  It’s okay.”

“I know,” Ashton huffs.  “Do it.  The anticipation is killing me.”

“Pushy,” Michael mumbles.  He leans down, nosing at Ashton’s neck, tracing along the carotid artery.  He lets go of the normal restraint on his senses, hearing each thump-thump of Ashton’s heartbeat and his breaths.  Dozens of smells fill his nostrils: the blood in Ashton’s veins, the soap from his shower, the fabric softener that makes his t-shirts so soft, and that particular sweatskinAshton smell that makes Michael’s head spin.  He brushes his lips against the pulse point, relishing in the way it makes Ashton’s breath catch.  The first gentle scrape of fangs makes him shudder beneath him.

Ashton is always so sensitive around his neck.  Michael wants to play with this, to see how thoroughly he can undo him before finally taking the bite, how much he needs to tease before Ashton becomes a mess and finally swallows his pride to beg, but he can also smell the blood now and hear it pumping and he needs to bite.  He has a god at his mercy, willingly submitting to him and offering what he wants, and he’s finally going to take it.

Ashton makes a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat when the fangs break skin.  Michael feels it more than he hears it, a slight reverberation accompanying the blood dribbling from the artery.  Michael sucks on the wound, catching as much in his mouth as he can, knowing he should savor it but also needing none of it to go to waste.  This is Ashton’s blood: sweet and metallic and warm and alive and so, so precious, tasting like the good kind of late night and laughter and familiar hands resting on his hips.  It will not get spilt carelessly.

“Michael,” Ashton whines.  He hums, squeezing Ashton’s bicep to let him know he’s present.  Ashton repeats his name like a mantra, but he’s not telling him to stop or pinching his side, and it sounds like music this way.

The feeding itself lasts just under a minute, as any longer risks vergining into worrisome territory with the artery he picked.  Michael swallows what he can, then licks over the fang marks, picking up more blood and starting to seal them off.  In a few seconds, the blood stops flowing, and Michael mouths around the bite to ensure that anything smeared on Ashton’s skin gets consumed.

Ashton adjusts his grip on Michael’s hips, panting.  His heart is still beating steadily, rapid and just barely weaker than usual, and Michael presses one last kiss to the bite mark before he leans back to fully assess him.  Ashton blinks up at him a few times, shell-shocked and dazed.

“How do you feel?” Michael asks.  He cups Ashton’s jaw with both hands, maintaining eye contact.

“You have--you--”  He gestures to his lips.  Michael wipes his thumb around the corners, sucking the spare blood into his mouth, one last treat from the feeding.  Ashton stares at him the entire time.

“Ash,” he says.  “You have to tell me how you feel.”

“Fangs,” Ashton says, still staring.

“I’m not going to get them to retract for a few minutes this soon after a live feeding, big guy.  How out of it are you?”

“Not too much,” he says.  Michael isn’t convinced, but each breath Ashton takes in seems to center him more, kickstarting whatever is leftover from his godly powers to get his mind and body working properly again.

“I’m going to get you some water and a snack.  Stay here, okay?”

“Where would I go?”

Michael ignores him in favor of planting a kiss on his forehead, then heads to the kitchen.  When he returns Ashton is still boneless against the sofa, lolling his head to the side to watch him approach.

“I’m still not dizzy,” he says after he sips some water and takes a bite of the granola bar under Michael’s watchful eye.  “I’m a deity.  It takes more than that to affect me.”

“You lost a lot of blood in a short amount of time.  I’m not taking any chances.”

Ashton gives him an unimpressed look, but takes another bite of his granola bar anyway.

“How was it?” he asks, faux-casual.

“Amazing,” Michael breathes, leaning back against the cushions with the taste still on his tongue.  It’s something he won’t be forgetting within the next millennium.  “You taste so good, Ash, like… I don’t know how to describe it, except that it was both exactly what I thought and completely unexpected at the same time.  I knew it would be good, but fuck, I never imagined it could be like that.”

Ashton’s lips quirk up, and when he offers his hand Michael threads their fingers together.  Ashton brings his hand to his lips and kisses the back of it.

“You know, in my religion the act of eating was considered extremely important.  Our followers would often eat lavishly as the most important part of worship, believing it opened them further to our blessings and favor.”

“Did it?” Michael asks.  Ashton nods.

“There’s nothing more intimate than eating with someone, I think.  To be the source of food is even more so, whether you make the meal or… contribute in other ways.”

“More intimate than sex, even?”

Ashton smiles, then nods.

“Yeah, more intimate than sex.”

Michael leans forward, figuring that Ashton has recovered enough to be on the receiving end of another long, slow kiss.  When they part, Michael finally feels fully centered again and his fangs retract easily.

“I can’t feed from you again for a while, like eight weeks or something.  We need to give you time to fully recover.”

“I know,” Ashton says, pulling him closer.  Michael settles against his side, leaning down to plant a kiss on his shoulder.

“Thank you for doing this,” Ashton says, “and for taking care of me, even if I don’t need it.”

“Well, I do want to keep you around,” Michael says.  “You’re my live blood supply now.”

“And I will be as long as you want me.”

“Forever, then.”

“Forever.”

Michael smiles and buries his face in Ashton’s shoulder.  When he glances up, he can see the scars from his fangs clear as day, angry and red.  He used to think vampire bites looked like awful, ugly things, but this one isn’t.  This one looks more like a promise, one that Michael knows they both intend to keep for the rest of eternity.

[unluckyadept]

Character Journal Entry: Felix

{July 15th, 2021T}

[The page is marked in a very unusual way:

The (bright red) symbol of a (the, rather) Dragon with arrows pointing up on either side and two lines underneath it, followed by a dash, and then the numbers “26-1021”.]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

It’s Another Long Story.

As I look back on the last year or so, I feel as though I have greatly [aged/grown/matured/wearied]. So much has been stolen.

But I think, to properly tell the story, I must start from where the first one left off.

It’s A Long Story, but you know that one, don’t you? The story of my destiny.

Destiny is the mark you leave on the world…

…and Fate is the mark the world leaves on you.

You can defy destiny, but you cannot fight fate.

=-=-=-=-=

[He was very glad he was able to see again. It was still taking some getting used to, particularly since his sight was not exactly stable; the imbalance of energy that caused the blindness was still an issue, particularly under fire in the battlefield.

Still—it was a great improvement from where it was before.]

=-=-=-=-=

You know, the reason that I needed to tell that story in the first place was to explain how the death of Prox’s last Warriors of the Dark Age

=-=-=-=-=

[The memory was all too vivid in his mind.]

[He could still remember those final words.

He crossed out the line and started over.]

=-=-=-=-=

You know, the reason that I needed to tell that story in the first place was to explain how the death of Prox’s last Warriors of the Dark Age

My relationship with the Proxans has always been a bit complex, at least in my mind. Other people view it differently. I know Jenna and Sheba in particular always held a very different view on my relationship with Saturos and Menardi in particular… and I won’t offer excuses for what any of the last four of the great Warriors did… to me or anyone else.

It’s no secret that I disagreed with their methods, and we argued—outright quarreled, in some cases. 

But the whole truth is important to know. Context is necessary to explain to other people why it is that I have the outlook I do—to show them on what I base my opinions.

That’s why I needed to explain—I needed to explain why I was distressed at their deaths, even though they had come very close to killing me.

And to do that, I needed to start with when I first came to Prox—and, well, to go back that far?

It’s A Long Story.

=-=-=-=-=

[And he hoped that someday he would have the time to tell it in full, before his connection to his younger years faded from vivid memory. It was much harder now to remember his boyhood than it was ten years ago… and he knew that the memories would only grow more and more faded as his mind and heart were tethered to his adulthood rather than his childhood.

Yet another intellectual casualty of violence and anarchy…

Once the war ended and order was restored to the continent, he could turn his focus and energy to personal matters… and the completion of his memoirs among them.

The Venus Adept shook his head and returned his focus to the letter.]

=-=-=-=-=

That story is a tale of how I was forced to adapt to a role I had initially rejected—

Well, the first of such times where that sort of thing happened. Or would it be more accurate to say I was never given leave of the role, and it took me a while to accept that fact? That would probably be closer to the truth.

It’s A Long Story. Just one of several. That story began the Year of the Storm—the night I almost drowned in the river (again) and was rescued by Saturos.

I’ve read his journal entry on what happened, and I must say: it was very evident that the loss of so many of his peers had a profound impact on the man. And it was the death of the Kalt Islander that hit him the hardest, for that man was an ally who had chosen to aid them in good faith out of loyalty and solidarity; he was a respected outsider, but still an outsider… not under any obligation to risk his life for their sake, let alone lose it.

Before the storm, it was my dream to become a miner and work with Isaac in the Altin Mines. We would use our Psynergy in secret to accomplish more than a non-Adept ever could, and boldly face danger in the “outside” world, rather than keep to ourselves in the shelter of Vale.

I don’t judge those days harshly; I was only a child, and had no exposure to life outside of Vale except through Kraden, and he focused on literacy and mathematics more than anything else… at that point, anyway. The truth is that we were taught to look down upon “outsiders”; we were taught that we were superior because we had power, and that underlying attitude lent itself to Pride.

Combine that with a child’s limited understanding of the world and a boy’s dreams of independence and strength… and such a mindset was probably the best one could realistically hope for, as it was still based in a desire to protect and to serve.

After the storm—or rather, after I recovered from the storm… I was forced to accept reality, and the reality of the world was far more demanding than my imagination was ever prepared to consider.

When I first came to Prox, we didn’t know what would happen to us. We didn’t know what they wanted of us. And the only thing I knew was that it was my fault to begin with—if I hadn’t been so stubborn and overconfident in my abilities, we would have been far clear of the boulders and no one would have been at the docks when THE Boulder came crashing down.

It was a bitter weight for a child to carry—to know his actions had cost everyone around him so greatly, and may have been the death of his younger sister.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He paused for a moment, glancing up in thought.

He was getting distracted, wasn’t he?

…Well, so what if he was? He was under no obligation to censor himself on such matters.

Still—he would keep talking in circles if he didn’t keep the point he was getting at in mind.

And he had to let out a huff of amusement at the reminder—

Because that was why he needed to tell that story in the first place; it had all been building up to that moment in Mars Lighthouse.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

It’s A Long Story.

The story of how I came to be in that moment, that dark hour, at Mars Lighthouse. Why I was there, what I wanted, why I cared.

I don’t know if I’ve ever had the chance to state that outright—and it is rather important, so I suppose I best state such things plainly.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He hesitated for a moment, frowning. A bit of ink bled into the page at his extended reluctance to say the first thing that came to mind.

And even now…]

+=+=+=+=+

"Too slow!”

[Felix looked up angrily, biting back a remark. Karst looked down at him, lowering her scythe to rest against his throat.]

“Always too slow! How you ever managed to catch a Talon Runner is beyond me.”

[Felix was silent. The bruise from the day before was still darkening. He knew another slap might cause permanent injury; Proxans were far stronger than they realized, and did not understand how much damage they caused against someone who didn’t have their perpetual leather-hide armor…

…not that he felt THIS pair would have cared, even if they did truly know it.]

“Let him go, Karst.”

[The touch of death’s blade lifted, the chill of steel leaving him. The unlucky Adept tried to breathe steadily, waiting for permission to bandage his bleeding arm.]

“Now… Felix… tell us what you did wrong.”

[The boy gritted his teeth and spoke sullenly.]

“I tried to block her from hitting my face by bringing up my arm to protect me.”

“Heal yourself before you bleed all over the forest.”

[Felix didn’t need to be told twice. He felt very irritable as he got to his feet—

But Mendari grabbed his cape, jerking the Valean forward as he used Cure on his injuries, briefly startling him in the process.]

“I never said you could stand.”

[He glared back silently.]

“At least you are learning to hold your tongue, I see.”

+=+=+=+=+

[Felix grimaced ever so slightly, placing a hand to his cheek.

And ever so briefly, it brought another memory to mind—]

+=+=+=+=+

[There was a harsh noise as his captor suddenly lashed out—literally—and streaks of pain sliced across the left side of his face. He had unwittingly cringed and recoiled against the pain, so his shoulders and wrists were also left sore, and his sense of dignity damaged as blood ran down his face.]

+=+=+=+=+

[He forced himself out of such thoughts by clumsily getting out of his chair and walking over to the door to lean against it.

It took a moment for such thoughts to run their course enough to come back to the present, and he sighed.

It was considered offensive—not that that meant much in and of itself, given those who found literally everything offensive were far more prolific and prevalent than he had the patience to grovel to—to even mention the existence of such experiences. And certainly, he had a deep empathy for those who had suffered in such a way.

But he didn’t have the patience to keep silent anymore; it was a dark scar of the past, and he would not censor it for the sake of those who would demean him for exposing the damage caused by how he had been treated.

Leaving the writing aside for a moment, he made his way over to a window and contemplated the whole situation.

It had been almost a fortnight since they finally destroyed the outpost at the Gondowan Passage. They had been at open war with the Tolbi Empire since the night they bombarded the city in an attempt to rush in from the flank and overwhelm their prey.

He had since heard that there was a word for such a tactic, as described in the languages of the mountains—

And he had to say, having been on both the receiving end and the initiating end of such a “lightning war”, he was very relieved that his OWN recent military campaign had been successful.

Suffering through the sudden attack on the Western domicile of Lalivero’s capital city was a literal nightmare—his body could sense the large boulders being hurled down at them, prompting his mind to inflict him with reliving the day of The Storm. The enemy was well underway in destroying civilian residential districts by collapsing buildings and setting the streets aflame—well underway by the time he was able to pull himself together well enough to take to the skies with Arizona and go after their war machines they were using to demolish the city before sending in their ground forces.

He hadn’t quite had the experience to serve as context to explain his instinctive UNDERSTANDING at the time, but… when he had seen just how much manpower they had brought with them near Lalivero for the purposes of simply overrunning the city to take a swift victory, he understood that they would not withstand very long if the Tolbi could conduct these “lightning war” tactics via unfettered access to the region. No… they had a massive army, and had deployed a much greater force than Lalivero was prepared to handle. The region was meant to be protected by the river and the desert; bypassing the desert and neutralizing the river in order to swiftly strike at the cultural and economic capital of the only free peoples in that part of Weyard would have been a guaranteed total victory, if it had not been made impossible.

Having learned more about the wars of other worlds, he had a better understanding now of such matters. It was a risky strategy, one that relied very heavily on proper communication and firm discipline—one that was high risk-reward, especially when conducted in a setting where the transport of supplies would be a critically deadly weakness in the case of failing to shatter an enemy’s defenses. 

He was lucky that he was able to take advantage of the downsides of such a tactic, back then; they were not prepared for a counterstrike and were ill-equipped to withstand a counterattack. It was for that reason that he was not only able to quickly destroy the smaller force actually attacking the city, but also cut off the larger force that was stationed at the ready only a few hours away.

It had been an altogether horrible experience, especially considering what happened after the Tolbi got their hands on him. And it was not one he would be willing to try on enemy soil; otherwise, he would not have DESTROYED the outpost at the Gondowan Passage… but rather, seized it for his own.

No; he was willing to take advantage of taking them by surprise in order to cut off their supply chain, but he had no intention of risking any more than that. Not with the current situation.

The unlucky Adept slipped his fingers into his hair, feeling like his eyes were weary. Perhaps that was due to the strain from the blindness, but it almost just felt like he had seen too much in his time, and his own eyes felt exhausted at recalling such visions of terror.

Because he could remember—]

[He could remember the screams, the fire, and the overwhelming sense of all-consuming evil.

He could vividly recall the helpless terror of those around him.

He could remember.

He would never forget. Never.

Two decades from now, and he would still remember that terrible autumn day—

The day they were dragged into war against an enemy that hated them just for existing, and would stop at nothing to terrorize them into submitting to a ruthless, intolerant, brutal, murderous regime of hateful Pride.

He would never forget.

And he would make sure no one else forgot it, either.]

[It took some while for the weight of it to fade, and then he just felt contemplative.

It wasn’t until after eating some dinner and washing up that he returned to his desk; at that point, he just stared up at the ceiling for a while.]

It’s Another Long Story…

[…But right now, there was only one thing on his mind.]

+=+=+=+

"{Keep your spirits up, lad. Too much for you to do to be dwelling in darkness.}"

+=+=+=+

[…Almost five months to the day—not that he learned about it until weeks later—

And he still…]

({…I just want to hear your voice again. Just… just one more time. Just one more time…})

[jedimasterbailey]

Sneak Preview of Chapter 8 of “The Padawans”

Ahsoka overhears what Sidious intends to do with Barriss and needless to say, it doesn’t sit well with her.

Link to full fic below!

Darth Sidious disembarks his personal shuttle with his most trusted Imperial guards leading the way to Riyo Chuchi’s palace. The Fifth Brother and the Seventh Sister walk silently beside their Emperor, both perplexed as to why they were accompanying the Sith Lord. For they had both failed miserably at keeping Barriss Offee in their custody by allowing the Mirialan escape with Ahsoka Tano, another wanted Jedi. Their punishment was one neither would ever forget. They had been electrocuted by Sidious’s lightning repeatedly until their flesh began to burn. As a result, the Seventh Sister now relied on a vocabulator to speak, her vocal cords having been damaged beyond repair and the Fifth Brother wore more armor to cover the raw skin that has yet to heal. Failure was no longer an option for the duo if they valued their lives.

Just before they were greeted by the Pantoran Senatorial guard, Sidious addresses the Inquisitors with their next assignment in a low voice.

“There is a Jedi here. It appears Senator Chuchi has set a trap for me to spring. Find this Jedi and hold him or her for questioning while I deal with our host. There is a chance it could be the very one you fools have lost. Do not fail me again!”

“Yes, my Lord.” The Inquisitors simultaneously say before stepping aside.

The Seventh Sister then calls for one of her probe droids using a remote on her wrist. Within seconds, the requested droid flew out of the Emperor’s ship and perched itself on it’s mistress’s shoulders ready for orders.

“Search the area and see if you can pick up another lifeform that isn’t the Senator or her staff. Apparently she thinks she can hide a Jedi from us.” The Seventh Sister orders in her new distorted voice.

The probe droid immediately begins to work as it flew from the Inquisitor's shoulder the minute she uttered the word “Jedi”.

______________________________________________________________________

Sensing Palaptine’s presence getting closer to the palace, Ahsoka conceals her own Force signature and takes shelter in the palace’s ventilation system following Riyo’s footsteps underneath. Ahsoka could feel Riyo’s fear and anxiety building which worried her deeply. From what the Togruta has seen based on Imperial propaganda in the worlds she’s traveled to, Palpatine was certainly frightening and intimidating, but he was also portrayed to be the same noble leader as he was before the Empire. Was Riyo fearful for her life? Or was she just unsettled by the change of plans?

Ahsoka leaned on the latter knowing they had yet to discuss their plan on how to deal with the Emperor with the subject of Barriss having been a distraction. Despite knowing Riyo’s intention and motivation, Ahsoka was still set on persuading her friend to think of another solution. If there’s one thing Ahsoka was sure of, it was that taking a life, no matter what the reason was, was an act that could never be erased from one’s consciousness. Barriss’s words and facial expressions on the matter has proven that. She did not want that same fate for Riyo. There had to be another way.

Ahsoka’s breath hitched in her throat seeing Palpatine approach Riyo. The man was obviously a Sith Lord in the eyes of a Jedi, but to someone like Riyo, he was deformed old man with an unnatural eye color. Ahsoka concentrates hard on suppressing her hatred for the man for the sake of staying hidden. If Palpatine was able to orchestrate an entire galactic war without consequence, then Ahsoka knew better to underestimate his abilities on detecting the slightest change in the atmosphere.

Riyo, now properly dressed in formal attire, bows to Palpatine.

“Emperor Palpatine, it is an honor to have you in my home. Though you are here earlier than expected.”

Palpatine gives a false smile, “Yes, Senator. Your invitation admittedly piqued my interest and I could not wait to meet. It isn’t everyday I have an excuse to leave Coruscant.”

Riyo reciprocates the gesture.

“Then we should waste no time then. Allow me to show you to my office.”

Ahsoka quietly follows the crowd above, going as far as to hold one lightsaber in with one hand and the other with her teeth to prevent any noise. The situation was too delicate for there to be any mistakes. To her surprise, Ahsoka hears Palpatine dismiss his red cloaked guards outside the office, leaving him alone with Riyo.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Riyo says calmly, taking her usual seat, “I could have someone fetch us some refreshments if you’d like?”

“That would be lovely, my dear.” Palpatine accepts, sitting down.

After Riyo informs someone of her staff of the Emperor’s request, the secret Sith Lord immediately brings up the very subject he knew disturbed Pantoran.

“I take it that you are displeased with what has become of the Talz?”

“Forgive me your grace, but I must admit that their extermination was unnecessary. They were no harm to anyone and it’s because of their extinction that my people have become more fearful of the Empire. The increased number of Stromtroopers in our cities and towns enforcing curfews and inciting violence deeply concerns me as someone who is supposed to be protecting them. That’s why I wanted to negotiate as to how the Empire can improve its relations with Pantora.” Riyo says with the same amount of sophistication and grace as Padme once did in the Senate.

Feigning a look of confusion, Palpatine folds his hands, “I’m sorry my dear, but I must disagree with the notion that the presence of my Stormtroopers or the extinction of the Talz are of any harm to your people. The troopers are there to maintain the peace and order the Republic failed to accomplish.These men are instructed to detain any rebels who dare to disturb the peace. You know as well as I do that we as a galaxy are still recovering the Clone wars; we cannot run the risk of having individuals rise against the stability we have created. Don’t forget that it was Count Dooku, a political anarchist, who started all the fighting that the Jedi enabled. Surely you and your people have not forgotten what a dark time that was!”

Riyo shakes her head, “Of course not, your Excellency. I, like the late Senator Amidala, were one of the few who voted against the fighting.”

“Yes, I remember.” Palpatine sighs, now appearing to look mournful, “May she rest in peace, Amidala. I miss her immensely. I’d like to think that she would have been proud of the new order.”

From above, Ahsoka grimaces at Palpatine’s words as they couldn’t be further from the truth. Padme would undoubtedly be leading the Rebel alliance if she were still alive.

“That still does not explain why the Talz needed to be killed.” Riyo argues coolly.

A servant then entered the room with a tray of tea and assortment of Pantoran delicacies, temporarily stopping Palpatine from answering. It was only after the two gave their thanks and had the room back to themselves that the Emperor was able to give the answer both Ahsoka and Riyo knew to be a lie.

“I never ordered for the Talz to be terminated.” Palpatine says steadily maintaining direct eye contact with Riyo, “I only deployed a squadron of my people to set up a base on the moon given how suitable the environment would be for training purposes. My best guess is that the Talz attacked my troops and thus they were left with no other choice. I can understand how hard this all must be to hear knowing you were the one to establish peaceful relations. But you and I have no control as to how they respond to their new superiors. As I’ve said before, there is no room for hostility against the Empire.”

There was a moment of silence between the politicians allowing Ahsoka to digest Palpatine’s words. The answers to all of Riyo’s questions have been contradictory and infuriating. Anakin and Obi-wan had once told her that the Talz were welcoming and receptive to negotiation. A small part of Ahsoka wanted to hop back into her ship and destroy the “training camp” that was surely constructed over the bodies of the dead tribe. But Ahsoka knew better; Riyo was depending on her to not draw attention.

“That is...very unfortunate to hear.” Riyo professes sadly, bowing her head.

“Indeed.” Palpatine sighs before continuing, “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is not all of the bad news I have to share.”

Raising her head back up Riyo asks, “What is it?”

“There is a Jedi here.” Palpatine confesses, causing Ahsoka’s heart to leap into her throat.

Riyo’s eyes widen, “A Jedi? But how? I thought they were all dead?”

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” Ahsoka screams internally to herself, taking her lightsaber hilt out of her mouth in order to suppress the sound of her now heavy breathing. She was at a loss as to how Palpatine could know this despite having hid her ship and temporarily cutting her connection off from the Force. Ahsoka then reminded herself of something she knew to be true about the ways of the Sith; their order was rooted in deception.

“Maybe this is just an excuse for him to watch Riyo.”

The possibility brought some comfort for Ahsoka, but now any future communication with Riyo would be next to impossible between Palpatine and the Inquisitors he most likely brought with him.

“If only that were true, but alas there are still many survivors out there not to mention all the younglings that are born with such powers. But not to worry, I have two of my Jedi hunters here looking for him or her. Rest assured, I will not be leaving until the Jedi has been brought to justice. I wouldn’t feel comfortable returning to Coruscant knowing a dangerous traitor roams free on your planet. Despite what you may think of me Senator Chuchi, I really do keep your best interest at heart.” Palpatine affirms with another smile.

Even from a distance, Ahsoka could clearly see how uncomfortable Riyo looked, “Do you have an idea on who it may be?”

“To be perfectly honest with you Senator, I am not sure. However, there is an individual I am hoping to find here.” Palpatine admits causing Riyo to lean forward on her desk.

“And who would that be?”

“Barriss Offee.” Palpatine answers ensuing a fresh wave of panic to arise inside Ahsoka.

With a pained expression on her face, Riyo asks, “You mean the girl who bombed the Jedi Temple and escaped prison?”

“Precisely.”

“Why her specifically?”

To Ahsoka’s horror, Palpatine laughs, “Well aren't you a curious girl! Unless you’re aware of Ms. Offee’s whereabouts and are hiding her from me?”

Riyo rapidly shakes her head, “Of course not! Barriss is just an interesting choice given what she has done. It would make more sense for someone like her to hide in some remote world far from the Core worlds. A Mirialan would be very easy to spot on Pantora!”

Palaptine raises a hand, “Ms. Offee is not to be underestimated Senator Chuchi. I know Barriss to be an incredibly powerful and intelligent warrior. We both may not agree with her crimes, but her speech on the Republic and the Jedi’s involvement in the war rung with truth. She saw the future we were all blind to and for that, I’m hoping I could extend a peace offering to her. Her skills would actually become a great asset to the Empire.”

“The Jedi failed her and pushed her to do what she did, but I know I could help her. I could give her the love and attention she was denied. Perhaps she could succeed me in becoming Empress one day.”

Ahsoka bared her fangs as her blood began to boil at what Palpatine’s intentions were for Barriss. Everything Bail had told her after the events of the trail now made sense. Palpatine was hoping Barriss’s anger would fester into a hatred he could manipulate between denying Master Luminara’s visitation rights and removing the death penalty. The idea of Barriss becoming a Sith apprentice nauseated Ahsoka to the point where she was afraid she would vomit in the vent.

Not wanting to hear another word, Ahsoka knew she needed to get out and run far away from the palace. She needed to unleash her anger and her sadness before it got the better of her and made itself known to the Sith Lord. Ahsoka quickly grabs her lightsabers and navigates her way to Riyo’s bedroom where she knew she could escape without being seen.

The journey proved itself to be a challenge for Ahsoka as her emotions were quickly turning into hysteria. Her heart was hammering against her chest so hard that she felt she couldn’t breathe. Tears also began to stream down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Ahsoka had not felt this kind of visceral reaction since her days of hiding on Thabeska after the events of Order 66.

Back then, Ahsoka understood fully why the phenomena would happen; she knew she was stressed about Anakin's whereabouts and she knew she was grieving the fact that she had to fight and bury the 501st alone, with Rex being the only survivor. Now, Ahsoka wasn’t entirely sure why she was reacting this way.

Knowing about Palpatine’s insidious plan for Barriss was upsetting, but was there something more to it, and the only way to find that out was to be as far away from Palpatine as possible.

Ahsoka was beginning to see stars when at last she saw her way out. She quickly punches the vent open and hops out of the opening, gasping for air. Taking a few steps back, Ahsoka then sprints out of the room and leaps over the balcony, dropping several meters down to the ground below. Upon landing, Ahsoka proceeds to run away from the palace and out into the open marshes, completely unaware of the probe droid that had spotted her and was now alerting its master.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (151/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.  

[27 February, Age 850.    Toki Toki City.]

"I'll be honest," Trunks said.    "I don't know if we can rely on her."

He stood in the kitchen of Chronoa's house, his lavender hair casting a gloomy shadow over his concerned brow.    The Vault of Time looked like a fortress in the center of the Time Nest, a daunting structure of grey stone.   In sharp contrast, the Supreme Kai of Time lived in a modest Capsule house, with rocket engines and other half-assembled machines scattered all around it.   The epicenter of this clutter lay inside the house, where Chronoa maintained a collection of gadgets and nick-nacks.   Some were displayed on overcrowded shelves, while others lay in various piles strewn in every room.    Trunks had cleared an assortment of vacuum tubes off the stove to brew tea.    

"You made the wish," Chronoa said from her sofa.   "You asked Shenron for a strong ally, one who could help you defend time itself.    And Shenron granted your wish.   He sent you Luffa.    Do you think the Eternal Dragon made a mistake?"

"The Dragon doesn't make mistakes," Trunks said.   "At least, that's what I would have said before today.   But now, she's blown a mission, and she's terrified at the thought of trying again.    What's worse, we can't afford to send anyone else in her place.    The enemy made a big play in that battle with the Ginyu Force, and if we reset the mission we might lose our chance to track them.   Oh, and I almost forgot how she got you hurt."

"You're being unfair," Chronoa said.   "Healing Luffa's injuries was my call, not hers.    You saw how upset she was.  I didn't think we could wait to get her to the hospital."  

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Trunks said.    "Your healing ability transfers the wounds of others onto yourself.   You've used it on me before, and I'm grateful, but... A power like that... Well, it bothers me.   I don't know how else to put it."

"It has its uses," Chronoa said.   "You can learn a lot about someone by taking on their pain for a little while."

The staff at the Toki Toki hospital had healed the Kai, but her movements were slightly stiff and more careful than usual.    Most people wouldn't have noticed, but Trunks could tell.   The healers in Toki Toki City were capable of restoring a person to perfect health in a matter of moments, but somehow they never seemed to finish the job properly when it came to the Supreme Kai of Time.  He didn't know why that was, or what it meant.   So he chose to focus on the kettle and making sure he had the correct burner turned on.

"Are you ready for the water?" Chronoa asked.

Trunks was about to ask what she meant, and then the kettle began to whistle.   As he reached out for the handle, he noticed a slight distortion around the kettle's surface.    Then he looked back and saw the Kai holding out her hand towards the stove.    He had seen her do this before, using her control over the flow of time to speed up or slow down the movements of objects, but he hadn't considered how this could be used to boil water.  

"Uh, thanks," Trunks said.   "I guess that's one ability I can get used to."

He prepared the cups and brought them to the coffee table next to the sofa.  Then he double checked the sofa for any loose circuit boards or cogs.  When he was sure the cushion was clear, he sat down beside her.      

"You're so sure that Luffa will recover from all of this, and then she'll come back and see this mission through," he said.  "I don't suppose you can speed that up the same way you did the kettle."  

"Maybe I could," she said with a childish grin, "but I'm in no hurry with her.   It's like we always say around here: There's time."  

"I know," Trunks said.   "I mean, I understand that Toki Toki City sits outside of the normal flow of time, and that it doesn't matter if we send her back to Namek today or a year from now.   But we still have to send her back eventually, and until we do, we can't do anything else in the meantime."

"Sure we can!" Chronoa said.   "We're having tea, aren't we?"

"I... I'm not gonna win this discussion, am I?" Trunks said with a sigh.    "All right, fine.   Could you at least share with me why you're not worried about Luffa?    Maybe then we could both enjoy our tea."

"Sure!" Chronoa said, "Why didn't you ask sooner?"  She set her cup on the table and held up her hands to start counting her fingers as she spoke.    "First, I know enough about the Dragon Balls to know they wouldn't let us down.   Second, I've learned a thing or two about Saiyans from working with you, Trunks.  I don't think she'll give up on this.    She's too stubborn.   And third... if there's one thing I know about time, it's that it doesn't matter how you start.    It's how you finish.   Each of those wounds she took tells a story.    I'm nothing special when it comes to fighting, but I could tell this much: she was battling harder than her body could handle."  

"What do you mean?" Trunks asked.   "Are you saying she lost because she overexerted herself?"

"I mean," she said as she picked up her cup to sample the tea, "she's stronger than she's letting on.    I don't know if she's sandbagging for some reason, or maybe she doesn't realize what's happening to her.    But she's giving it everything she has.   More than she has to give, really."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Trunks asked.   "What good will it do us if she burns herself out before we get to the bottom of this case?"

"Well, it's a good thing she has you for a partner, then," Chronoa said with a smile.   "Besides, I think you need to give Luffa some more credit.   She knew better than to dive right back into the mission.   I'm sure she's taking some time to rest and recover before she tries again."

"I hope you're right," Trunks said as he sipped his tea.  

*******

[3 November, Age 762.  Earth.]

Luffa used to be the Legendary Super Saiyan, but she no longer had that extraordinary power.    She didn't know why, unless it had something to do with her attempted self-destruction on Planet Nagaoka, or the intervention of Shenron, a mystical dragon who had reached out across time and space to pull her out of that battle and into the ranks of the Time Patrol.    Luffa had fully expected to die on Nagaoka, but instead she wound up in the distant future, an era where the Saiyan species was nearly extinct, and the legend of Luffa had been utterly forgotten.   With no other prospects, she threw herself into the work of the Time Patrol, until she was traumatized during a mission involving a bodyswap with the villainous Captain Ginyu.

Fear and shame had given way to boredom, and Luffa had decided to try a different activity to take her mind off her troubles.   Her roommate had suggested a "Parallel Quest", and she had found a pair of Time Patrollers who offered to show her how they worked.   They had planned to handle all the fighting while Luffa sat back and watched, but things had gotten out of hand.    

"Luffa... run!" begged Ravi.   The enemy had defeated him almost instantly, and Ravi's boyfriend, the Saiyan Mosh, was the next to fall.   As Luffa knelt beside Ravi, the enemy floated high above and charged a ki attack in his index finger.  Ravi's advice was very sensible.    

Except Luffa couldn't run.   "I'm stuck!" she told Ravi.    "Some kind of psychic hold..."

"I can... reverse it!" Ravi promised.   The Earthling held up his hand and offered it to her.    "Take my hand, and be ready to move."

Their enemy was another Earthling called Chiaotzu, but he looked nothing like the little person Luffa had encountered in other missions to this era.  Chiaotzu was at least four times his original size now, with bulging muscles and a look of unthinking hatred in his eyes.  When Ravi saw him, he addressed Chiaotzu as his Master.   It followed that Chiaotzu had taught Ravi how to apply this psi-lock, and how to reverse it.    

And then, just as Chiaotzu fired his beam, Luffa felt her body slip free of the psychic power, and she leaped out of harm's way.    The ground beneath her exploded into a fiery crater, and she alighted onto the top of a butte.  

Ravi wasn't pleased with her decision to bring him along for the ride.    

"What're you... doing?" he asked.    "I'll only slow you down!   You gotta... get Mosh out of here!"

"That's exactly what that big goof is counting on," Luffa said, gesturing toward Chiaotzu in the distance.   "As soon as I put you down, he'll slap another psychic whammy on me, and I'll be finished.   But as long as I keep you close by, you can protect me from those weird powers of his."

"Girl, that won't work!" Ravi protested.   "He'll just come in close and pick you off!   You can't fight and carry me at the same time!"

"I'm not going to fight him," Luffa said.   "Not yet, anyway.   I have to save your lover first."  

"He...! I...!   I mean, we're dating, but we aren't that serious yet!" Ravi stammered.    

Luffa might have apologized for the presumption, but Chiaotzu opened fire one again, forcing her to hop from one rock formation to the next to stay clear of his attacks.   The hard part came when she reached Mosh's position, and had to carry them both.   Their combined weight was no trouble, but the easiest way to handle a Saiyan of Mosh's size was to drag him by his tail, and Luffa felt bad for putting him though such an undignified situation.   Luckily, his ordeal was brief, as she made it to their time machine soon after.    

"Inside!" Luffa shouted as she kicked open the canopy with her foot and dropped Mosh in.   The Saiyan was nearly as tall as the corrupted Chaiotzu, but the time machine was big enough to hold three passengers, so she knew they would fit with room to spare.   "You'll be safe in there."  

"Luffa wait!" Ravi cried.   "We--"

She might have stopped to listen, except Chiaotzu had closed in on her while she was dropping them off.   With her arms free, Luffa swatted aside his ki blasts, but then he locked on his psychic hold, and she was immobilized in midair.    

"Come on!" she growled, unable to do anything else.   "Free shot, if you're brave enough to take it!"

For Chiaotzu's part, it wasn't a matter of bravery, but rather the irrational rage that consumed his thoughts like a brushfire.   He charged toward Luffa, and began to pummel her with his massive fists.   Luffa had been in a similar pinch while fighting Guldo of the Ginyu Force, but she decided against the strategy she had used before.   In that battle, she had push against the psychic lock with her own telepathic abilities.   At the time, it had seemed sensible, but she didn't want to become over-reliant on her Saiyan telepathy.    She wasn't sure it would be available the next time she faced Guldo...

The next time... while she was trapped in...

... in Captain Ginyu's body...

As Chiaotzu worked her over, the realization hit her that much harder.     Despite her fears, without really being aware of it, she had already made up her mind to go back and try again.    She had come to this "parallel quest" in an effort to distract herself from the Ginyu mission, but in her heart of hearts, she was still fighting that last battle, even as she fought a new one against this mutated Chiaotzu.  

There was something terrific and horrifying about this.   It was as though her Saiyan heart would push her forward no matter badly she wanted to give up.   Saving Ravi and Mosh had almost been second nature to her.   Less than an hour ago, Luffa had been curled up in a fetal position in the shower.    

And then, at last, the answer came to her.   If Chiaotzu wanted her to hold still so badly, then she would oblige him.    Instead of using her power to try to break free, she concentrated her energy inwards, using every last bit of it to fix herself to that spot.    She clenched her teeth as she waited for the next blow, and when it came...

There was a loud 'clang', and Chiaotzu reeled with pain as he clutched his fist.    Thanks to her ki, Luffa's body had no give to it whatsoever.    She had been unhurt, while Chiaotzu's aching knuckles left him in too much pain to maintain his hold on her.    

"That trick won't work on me anymore," she snarled.   "Get that through your thick skull.    You'll have to try something else if you want to defeat me.  

He glared at her with those wide, enigmatic eyes, then said only one word: "Corn..."

"What?"

Then he rushed towards her, throwing punches and kicks with incredible speed.    "Coooooorrrrrrn!" Chiaotzu wailed, seemingly for no reason.  

"My name's Luffa, not Corn, you idiot!" she screamed.   Fast as he was, she managed to weather the assault and responded with an explosive wave.   It wasn't enough to defeat him, but it did give her some breathing room.  

She pressed the attack, and danced around him, shifting left and right through the air to catch him off balance.   But whenever she went in to strike, he was always ready to block.  

"Hold on... You're good," Luffa said.   "But not this good.  What are you trying now...?"

(Luffa, he's reading your mind!)

She suddenly heard Ravi's voice in her own thoughts, and she glanced back at the time machine to make certain he and Mosh were still inside.    Chiaotzu capitalized on this by kicking Luffa in the head.    The blow sent her down to the ground, hard enough to shatter a nearby hillside, but not enough to defeat her.  

"Oh, is that right?" Luffa grumbled after coughing up some dust.   "I should have figured that out sooner."

(In my native era, Chiaotzu was an old man,) Ravi explained.   (I didn't have much going for me, but he took me in.  I was stealing food from his farm, and he invited me to join his dojo.   He offered me a chance to become a warrior.   This... this isn't how he's supposed to be!)

"I know that," Luffa said as she dodged another Dodonpa.    "He's been corrupted by the same evil magic as the others.    In this time fragment, the enemy must have used their power on him instead of Vegeta.  Or... hell, I don't know."

"Nine...!" Chiaotzu groaned.     "Minus... One!"

Luffa threw a punch, expecting him to block and counter.    She fully intended to reverse his counter, but instead she was surprised to see her punch connected this time.   It wasn't enough to stop Chiaotzu, but it did stagger him.  

"Well now..." Luffa said with a grin, "maybe you're not as tough as I thought."   She tried to follow through with a roundhouse kick, but Chiaotzu blocked this one and caught her in a throw.  Before she could escape, Chiaotzu caught her with another psychic hold, and she was helpless to stop herself from being hurled into a cliffside.  

"Left!  Right!" Chiaotzu screamed.    "Right, right, right!   Left!"

Luffa took her frustration out on the rubble that surrounded her, blasting it all away until she was standing in the center of a crater.    "I've had enough of your riddles!" she shouted back.   "Do your worst.  I won't back down until--"

"Disappear!" Chiaotzu said in a dreary monotone.    And then he did disappear.    Or at least, it seemed like he had.    Faster than Luffa's eyes could follow, Chiaotzu suddenly appeared behind her, and caught her in a full nelson.    With his immense size and power, the pain of the hold was incredible.    

"Dis... a... peeeear....!" Chiaotzu said as Luffa grunted and struggled to break free.    "Wish..."

"Shut up!" Luffa shouted.   "You'll wish you were dead when I'm finished with you!"    

But for all her bluster, Chiaotzu's psychic effect was making it difficult for her to escape the hold.    Luffa considered herself an expert on such things.   Joint locks were one of her specialties, and every hold she knew was accompanied by the way to escape.   But these all depended on being able to control herself, and her body just wasn't responsive enough.    

(Luffa, that's it!)  She heard Ravi in her mind again.   (He wants you to beat him!)

"Oh he does, does he?   Well... he's got... got a funny way of showing it," Luffa snarled.  

(Listen to me!   When I was younger, he told me the story of King Piccolo.   The Demon King gathered the Dragon Balls to wish for his youth, but Tien Shinhan told Chiaotzu to stop Piccolo by trying to make a wish first!   'Wish for King Piccolo to disappear!' that was what Chiaotzu tried to say, but Piccolo killed him before he could get it out!)

"Left, right, left right!" Chiaotzu droned on.   Suddenly, Luffa felt herself moving forward.    Chiaotzu's hold was as tight as ever, but he was floating forward, sliding across the air like a stone sliding over ice.    He drove Luffa into a mesa.   Then another, then another.    Each time, the stone broke apart on Luffa's face like a punch from an angry giant.

(He wants you to kill him! To beat him)  Ravi said.    (That's his wish!)

"And how--ow!   Does he expect me to do that?!    Ow!  Dammit!"  

"Nine!    Minus!   One!" Chiaotzu wailed.  

(That's it!) Ravi said.   (When he fought Krillin in the World Martial Arts Tournament!    Master Chiaotzu was always bad at math.   Krillin beat him by calling out arithmetic problems, and he'd get so flustered trying to solve them that he'd leave himself wide open!)

"Fine!" Luffa muttered.     "Hey, Chiaotzu!  What's the square root of twelve?!"

She tried to kick at his thighs, hoping that she could cramp up his quadriceps muscle enough to make him loosen the full nelson, but instead Chiaotzu's psychic attack intensified, and she could barely move her leg enough to tap him with her heel.    

"It didn't work!" she shouted, just as Chiaotzu drove her face first into another butte.    

(That's because it was too hard!)   Ravi said.  

"Well, is he bad at math or not?!" Luffa demanded.  

(Whoa, easy now.   Easy,) Ravi said.   (We're on the same side here!)

Luffa knew this on a factual level, but she was getting sick of Ravi's voice in her head, almost as much as she was sick of Chiaotzu's power locking up her muscles.    

"What's six plus two, Chiaotzu?!" she shouted, desperate to get this over with.    She almost hoped it wouldn't work, if only to disprove Ravi's suggestion.    And yet...

"Uh... uhhhh..." Chiaotzu grumbled, and Luffa could feel her toes again, and a slight relief in her shoulders as his grip slackened.  

"Hah!" Luffa said as she twisted her arms and slid free of Chiaotzu's hold.   She withdrew to a safe distance, then opened fire with a volley of ki blasts.    She expected Chiaotzu to avoid or deflect them, but they were nothing more than a diversion anyway.  

"On your left!" Luffa shouted as she rushed headlong at him.    Sure enough, Chiaotzu turned, expecting her to attack him on that side.    She swerved at the last possible instant and blindsided him on his right.  

"Ino...Shiko...Cho..." Chiaotzu moaned.    

"Two minus three," Luffa said.   It was almost disturbing how easy this was becoming.    She hesitated a moment before trying a kick to Chiaotzu's abdomen, and yet she still managed to land the blow, and the elbow smash between his shoulders after that.  

"What's 'InoShikoCho'?" Luffa asked aloud, hoping that Ravi was still listening.    

(It's what he called one of our practice drills back at the dojo,) Ravi said.   (Only... I don't know what that has to do with anything.)

"Don't worry," Luffa said.   "I'll try and find out for myself--"   As she spoke, Chiaotzu lumbered towards her, and she ducked under his massive hands and grabbed hold of his face.    She hadn't tried a telepathic reading in a long time, but in her last Time Patrol mission, she had seen the Saiyan Son Goku use it on Krillin, which led her to suspect that she had recovered enough of her former strength to do the same.    The Saiyans had a peculiar range of psychic talents, but before Luffa could reminisce on this, the images came flooding into her mind.

His name was Chiaotzu, and long ago he had trained under the Crane Hermit, a master whose skill was matched only by his cruelty and bitterness.   The Old Crane School taught the ways of treachery and deception.    Among these lessons was the InoShikoCho, a beast with the body of a boar and the antlers of a stag and the wings of a butterfly.    To raise money during their training journeys, Chiaotzu and Tien Shinhan would use the InoShikoCho to grift small, isolated villages.   The Crane Hermit had adopted it as a pet and trained it well, but it could pretend to be a wild animal when needed, and Tien and Chiaotzu would unleash it in villages, then offer to "capture" the beast... for a price.   After pretending to subdue the InoShikoCho, and collecting their reward, they would move on to the next village and repeat the process.    

But one day, Son Goku intervened.    Stumbling upon the three of them sharing a meal between villages, he learned of their trickery, and when he tried to expose them, Tien was forced to betray the InoShikoCho to cover his tracks.   After that, Tien and Chiaotzu knew that the creature would never trust them again.   Eventually, Chiaotzu felt a similar grief when Tien defied the Crane Hermit, and Chiaotzu had to choose a side.    The Crane Hermit swore he would have revenge, and when he returned, it was with his brother, the assassin Tao Pai-Pai, who beat Chiaotzu so badly at the World Martial Arts Tournament that he had to be carried out on a stretcher.  

And this was what ran through Chiaotzu's mind now while he fought Luffa.    Beneath the mindless rampage forced upon him by the dark magic, there was an undercurrent of sadness and regret and longing to be done with betrayal.   As Ravi had said, in this moment, Chiaotzu wished for nothing more than to be made to disappear.

The depths of this despair shocked Luffa, so much so that when she snapped out of her mental link, Chiaotzu was able to knock her back with a well-placed chop to her neck.  It was not enough to defeat her.    Luffa knew that it would never be.   For in spite of the increase in power the dark magic gave Chiaotzu, he was still holding back.    The Earthling had that much willpower, at least.    

"I see," Luffa said to him.    "So this is the resolve of you Earthlings, then.   Even in this sorry state, you keep fighting to resist this power that's come over you.   It's impressive.    Four minus three."

She dodged his next offensive and went around him, catching him in a belly-to-back suplex.   This wasn't enough to stop him, but she was no longer trying to defeat him.    Now that she understood how to beat him, she could secure victory at her leisure.    Until then, she simply used her attacks to buy enough time to say her peace.

"I might not look it," she said, "but I used to be somebody important, a long time ago.    Left left right."    Chiaotzu fired the Dodonpa again, but she grabbed his arm and spoiled his aim, then swung around and brought her knee into his face.  

"I'm not telling you this to brag.    I'm not much of anyone now, not anymore.   But I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I'm someone who impressed a lot of people, and you've impressed me today.   Not sure if you can understand what I'm saying, but I needed to get it off my chest, okay?   Your students, your memories, your pride, everything you are keeps fighting, even after your mind and body have been corrupted like this.   It's... comforting.    Twelve plus six.    Galick Gun."

Now she was ready to defeat him.   The Galick Gun she fired came quickly, with as little warning as she could give.    That made it weaker than it could have been, but Ravi's prediction was true: Chiaotzu was so distracted by the numbers that he was virtually defenseless.   Even a weak Galick Gun would be enough to knock him out.    She intensified the power anyway, once she was certain he was too overwhelmed to stop it.    

"I see what I have to do now!" she shouted.    And then with a savage cry, she chased after Chiaotzu, and leaped down beside him where he fell.    

"You've shown me the way," she said in a low voice as she checked to make certain he was beaten.    The dark energy dissipated, and his body began to shrink to its normal size.    "I'm in your debt, Earthman.   I guess I should cook something tasty for your student Ravi, who honors your teachings."

Satisfied that the immediate danger was over, Luffa gathered Chiaotzu in her arms, and went back to the time machine to collect Ravi and Mosh.    

*******

[28 February Age 850.   Toki Toki City.]

"That should hold, for now anyway."

In the Time Vault, Trunks and the Supreme Kai of Time stood before the large table at the center of the atrium.    She had just finished performing a supernatural treatment on a section of parchment from the Scroll of Eternity.   Trunks did not even pretend to understand how it worked, but she said it would help, and that was good enough for him.    

"Let's hope it lasts," Trunks said.    "I've checked for signs of enemy activity.   Nothing so far, but I can't believe they'll stay quiet for long.   If they strike again...  I don't suppose you can contain the ripples from two time anomalies, can you?"

The Kai looked up at him with a confident smirk.    "Hey, I can do a lot of things, you know?"   This made him feel a little better, but there was still a hint of worry in her eyes that kept him from smiling.    

"At least we know if they strike somewhere else, we can send other Time Patrollers to deal with that," Trunks said.   He gestured at the scroll on the table, which still roiled with purple energy.   "But we can't resolve this current anomaly without Luffa, and there's no telling how long that could take."

"She'll be back," Chronoa said.    "And we'll manage until she's ready."

He was about to reply, when suddenly a third voice called out.

"Trunks!"

He had already turned to face the entryway before he heard the voice.    His ki senses had told him who it was, but he was still surprised nonetheless.    Luffa marched up to the table with purpose and laid a casserole dish on the table with a loud thud.    

"Luffa!   Y-you're back?" Trunks asked.  

"I would have gotten here sooner, but I wanted to make sure Chiaotzu was okay, only they told me I couldn't bring him back to the city.    Parallel Quest stuff.    It's over my head."

"You went on a Parallel Quest?" Trunks asked.   "We thought you were resting..."

"After that," Luffa went on,  "I made pasta for Ravi and Mosh.    Took me a while, but I'm pleased with how it turned out.   I made too much, and this is what wouldn't fit in the refrigerator.   You like lasagna, Trunks?"

"Uh, sure," he said.  

She stared at him, as though suspicious of his answer.    "Good.   Help yourself."   She then looked at the Kai and added.    "You too, Chronoa, if gods eat this sort of thing.    Oh, you know what?  I didn't bring any plates."    

"I've got some in my house," Chronoa said.   "We'll manage, but we really need to talk about how we're going to handle this scroll..."

"We already did talk about that, remember?" Luffa said.   "And it's pretty simple.   I'm the only one who can finish the mission, because of how I got bodyswapped with Captain Ginyu, right?   So I'm going back in there, right now, and I'm going to finish it."

"Hold on," Trunks said.    "You were in pretty rough shape a few hours ago.   Are you sure you're feeling up to this?"

"I've got it all figured out this time," Luffa said.   "Trust me."  

She didn't even look at Trunks as she spoke, but instead leaned in and took the scroll before anyone could stop her.    And as she vanished into the past, Trunks saw a sadistic grin on her face.  

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

NEXT: The Bluff.