#but the excessive glaring that i get almost every day from old people genuinely makes me so insecure lol

[official-rolli-und-rita]

Man why do old people in public always stare at you so much for the smallest things?? STOPP ITTTT!!! Yes i'm carrying a 5kg bag of hay! You're obviously free to look but why are you the only one on this crowded train fixating on me like you're trying to draw my face from memory? Is it THAT weird? Are you SO perplexed as to why i would possibly need a big bag of hay that has a bunch of pictures of rodents on it that you can't resist sharply turning your head in my direcion every time i move? Are you the new anti-hay security they hired without telling me? Please restrain yourself from making me have an anxiety attack i'm begging you

[diavolosthots]

Hi there! I love your writing so much, your angst is one of my favorites to read because they always hit me in the feels. Can I request a hc or imagine (I can’t remember what they’re called) about Diavolo x Satan where Satan feels insecure because he thinks that Diavolo is with him as he was once a part of Lucifer, who doesn’t hold romantic love for Diavolo. You can add some smut if you want, I’m perfectly okay with the angst either way 😁!

I wrote this and posted it on AO3 first but here it is. Hope you like it anyway!

Warning: like 1 dust crump of slight NSFW if you look hard enough

Love's Poem (SATAN X DIAVOLO)

Love is such an unpredictable thing.It comes so unexpectedly and knocks you over, or it will come gently and embrace you in its arms. Love is also odd. You may feel it strongly, almost too overwhelming, you will find peace in it, almost as if a blanket is draped over your shoulders. Love may come in full force, or it will come agonizingly slow. In Satan’s case, love could’ve been anything, but it was always there, he noted. Despite his exterior and the picture people painted of him, he always wanted to feel it, to experience it, to have it… and only in his books did he ever find it. It’s almost sad, really, pathetic. Or at least, Satan thinks so. A millennia old being holding on to such a childish dream, and yet… he can’t seem to let go of it. He has hope for it and he longs for it, but he isn’t foolish. He won’t blindly reach out for it. “Patience is a virtue.” he says, even if he finds it hard to be patient for a lot of things. He craves to be in love so desperately, laying there day and night with his nose buried in a book that tells of things he has yet to experience. A poem. A poem is what he yearns to create with someone else; a poem of their lives together. 

In all his yearning and waiting and desperation, though, he failed to realize that the poem had long started to be written. He failed to realize its soft touches, its gentle glances, and its sweet words calling out to him. He was so preoccupied with the paper it was supposed to be written on that he failed to notice the ink creating words on it. When he finally did notice, though, it was neither calm nor overwhelming. It was there, and Satan felt as if it had always been, because it had been. Still, when he realized whom he held it for, he was taken aback. Diavolo was never someone he excessively thought about… or so he thought. Diavolo, too, took a while to see Satan in such a new light and only when the two of them shared a moment over some literature did the Demon Lord realize just how deeply he could feel for the fourth born.

But Satan was unsure. He was questioning the demon’s motives, and quite honestly, he was scared. Scared of giving his all only to be left in the dust. To him, as much confidence as he bears and he truly does, coming from the Avatar of Pride himself and all, to himself, Satan was no one special. He’s attractive, very much so, and of course highly intelligent, but he also realizes how much of a brat he can be, or a bore, depending on the day. Diavolo was a manchild with insecurities, and Satan had said that more than once. Yet, their relationship blossomed and Satan found himself quite attached to the man, and vice versa. Diavolo felt like he had someone to confide in, someone who gave it to him straight but also comforted him. Someone he could experience things with and have a calm, peaceful evening with every night. Satan appreciated being brought out of his room, in which he would otherwise have been holed up in, and although he wasn’t after Diavolo for the money, status, or fame, he also appreciated the extravagance that his life brought to him. They balanced each other out, in the most unlikely ways, and both of them knew it.

Still, on one some days, Satan felt more like a shadow than anything. “Lucifer will come by today” again. “You won’t believe what Lucifer told me earlier” yes he will. “Lucifer” this “Lucifer” that. He understands that the two of them are close, after all Diavolo considers the first born his best friend. It angered Satan, though. Was he not enough? Does Diavolo still have to bring up Lucifer when he knows how the former feels about him? It’s not for a lack of communication, either. Satan has voiced his distaste quite a lot and changed the subject on more than one occasion, but a part of him also feels terrible for wanting to keep the Prince’s best friend away. “Satan!” especially when the guy so happily calls his name. “Hm?” It was nice outside, although when is it not in the Devildom. It rarely ever rains or snows or storms, and the temperature is always perfect to the demons. Satan was sitting under one of the trees in the courtyard at the House of Lamentation, reading one of his many books although he had a feeling that won’t last long. “Hm? That’s all I’m getting?” The pout that graced the Prince’s lips made Satan smile and a soft blush tint his cheeks. He looks up at the man, pursing his lips up into a kiss and waiting for Diavolo to take it. This is what he means when he says he wants a romance like in the books he reads. 

Diavolo leaned down to give one to him happily before falling into the grass. Somewhere behind them, they could hear Barbatos gasp, probably because the butler knows just how clumsy his Lord could be, but Diavolo waved him off and laid his head in Satan’s lap, who laid his book on top of Diavolo’s face. “Hey! I came all the way here and I got the cold book?” “You disrupted my reading” all meant in good humor, of course. Diavolo pushed the book off of his face and reached a hand up to brush along Satan’s cheek, which made the latter blush deeply. He’s still not fully used to this type of affection. “Hm… you look so handsome today. Did you do anything special to yourself?” Satan rolled his eyes although he did manage to turn his head and kiss Diavolo’s hand before it moved behind Satan’s ear to scratch it. Satan groaned softly, shivering slightly. Diavolo knows damn well that that is one of his weak spots. “There it is…. Good kitten.” Satan knows it’s a mock and although he’s blushing profusely, he’s also flicking Diavolo’s forehead, making him laugh. “Watch it. Kitten’s can claw.” Diavolo only growled playfully in response. 

“Can you believe us? A few months ago you didn’t even like me.” That’s not entirely true, he was just vary of the Demon Lord for over a few millennia, “and then Lucifer told me to just go for it.” Ah yes, Lucifer. Satan held back the urge to roll his eyes. “And then he said ‘Lord Diavolo, you would be not only blind but also a fool if you let this opportunity pass’ because he knew way more than either of us did.” The hell he did. “And you know what I said?” No, but he’s sure that Diavolo’s about to tell him. “I said, ‘Lucifer, my friend, don’t you worry. I will never take your beloved brother and son without first asking for permission’” Satan’s eye is twitching now and he finally found it in himself to say something, too, “is that all?” Diavolo’s smile slowly dropped when he saw Satan’s reaction and he was genuinely confused, slowly lifting his head from the guy’s lap and looking at him confused, “yes? Is something the matter?” He’s trying. He’s trying so hard not to snap right now so he just closes his eyes and just breathes for a couple of moments, “you know Lucifer said that when you--!” 

A growl escaped Satan and this time he actually did snap, whipping his head around to look at Diavolo. “Yeah? He said that? Must be nice. Anything else he said? Anything else he would like to add to our relationship or does he want to include himself next?!” Diavolo just stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure on how to approach this, “what? No. No, it’ll always be just us.” Blatant. Fucking. Lie. “apparently not! It’s Lucifer this, Lucifer that, and if you want Lucifer that badly, you can go and get him. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that he ruined yet another thing!” anger is getting to him and the next thing he says was neither thought out nor actually meant to ever leave his lips, “you’re probably just with me to get back at Lucifer, am I right? Poor little Lucifer wouldn’t give you his heart so you go to the next best thing; me!” Diavolo was taken aback by that last statement and for a moment he just stared at Satan, his mouth hanging open, but it soon turned into a glare. 

“Is that what you think? That my feelings are a lie? If you believe me to be such a liar, why are you with me?” Because he loves him, duh. He hates how much he feels for him but he can’t stop it, that’s why constantly hearing about Lucifer drives him insane. “I only want you, Satan, and I thought I made that pretty clear, but apparently not.” Diavolo sat up on his knees and for a moment he thought the guy was going to get up and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he slammed his hands flat against the tree Satan was leaning against, glaring down at the fourth born before his eyes soften. “Stop being so jealous of your brother.” “I’m not jealous! You’re the one who only ever talks about him when your attention should be on me!” No matter how nice Diavolo was being right now, Satan is still glaring at the Lord, who turned his head and nodded at Barbatos. For what, Satan didn’t know, but it was for something. “Look at me Satan.” His eyes turned back up to look into Diavolo’s gold ones, holding so much softness and love, “I love you and only you.” 

Satan rolled his eyes and he was about to push Diavolo off and away, but the latter cupped the blond’s face and kissed him softly before resting his head against his. “Lucifer is my best friend, yes, but you’re my lover and if I wanted to pursue anyone other than you, I would’ve, but I didn’t. Don’t be angry.” Although it is hot when Satan gets angry and if this wasn’t such a serious discussion, Diavolo would’ve definitely made a move. The blush returned to Satan’s cheeks and he tried turning his head away, but Diavolo wouldn’t let him. “No. Say it back. I know you do.” Satan mumbled it under his breath because he knows he loves the guy too. “What? What’s that?” “I love you too…” “a little louder, Satan.” The blond glared at him and Diavolo couldn’t help but laugh, kissing him again, this time a bit deeper before he grabbed Satan’s hips and fell back into the grass with him, making sure the demon landed on top. “I said I love you too…” He’s been atop Diavolo so many times, but every time he feels like it’s the first time. “There you go. It’s way easier being honest, isn’t it?” Diavolo’s hips playfully snapped up against Satan’s and the blond’s blush deepened, barely able to steady himself on Diavolo’s chest.

“Whatever… Just don’t forget I’m your only one.” 

[apherod]

Rubian Soulmate AU

I finally finished writing it ahhhh

I eventually decided that I was going for a sketch-style writing for this. Just short bits and pieces here and there, piecing together some scenes, but not fully fleshed out into a storyline (it coincides with the original story mostly anyway)

So here it is! Enjoy!

This is a Liam and Ruby Soulmate AU requested by an anon (possibly @thedarkestcrew?) ask, in which damage done to one half of the soulmate pair would translate to the other half. 

Word count: 4400

===

Liam

“Where did all these bruises come from?”

I was driving through Highway 95 in Maryland when I noticed the bruises crowning my knuckles. They just…appeared, like petals floating to the surface of water. It is possible that I punched something—or someone—at some point in the last few days, or tripped and fell, and using…my fists to break the fall? But I don’t recall doing any of that.

Then again, my head hadn’t been the most reliable in these past few weeks, either.

They weren’t the first. A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with a cut on my upper arm, and the blood drenched half of my sleeve, but the sleeve wasn’t torn or cut, so it couldn’t have been me… Another one came a few days after that, when I was driving, and a sudden searing pain came to my wrist, like I was burnt by a frying pan, but that part of my skin wasn’t even touching anything. The list goes on.

I think I’m going insane.

Some people…some who are lucky enough to find their soulmates, found themselves with identical wounds on them, because when one half of that bond gets hurt, the other one suffers, too. Mom’s bruises never translated onto our birth dad. Maybe that was why he was so okay with hurting her. It wasn’t until she met Harry, did that magic—or curse—work on both of them.

But that’s exactly that—it only happens after you’ve met the person. If I’ve somehow met her, and didn’t know who she was, then I’ve really screwed up. Big time.

It couldn’t have been anyone in Caledonia, otherwise I would’ve known. No one from home, either. There weren’t even that many of us left. Could it be someone from East River? For some reason, I just couldn’t be sure… There’re this weird quality in my memory when I think of East River, glowing tinge surrounding everything, blurring details, and flaring up the edges, making it hard to see for too long.

Also, if I met her in East River, why isn’t she with me?

If she’s really out there, I felt sorry for all the pain I’ve caused her in the past few days. When I narrowly escaped that group of Skip Tracers, my arms were all cut up, real pretty. I can’t imagine the horror she must have felt when her arms just, out of nowhere, started spontaneously bleeding half of her blood out.

I really ought to take better care of myself, even if it’s just for her sake.

When I crossed the state boarder into Pennsylvania, I managed to find an old payphone, and left a voice mail for my brother to let him know where I am, and that I’m coming his way. I didn’t want to—asking for Cole’s help was one of the few things that I genuinely want to avoid—but I’m really desperate.

The truth is, just imagining him gloating about this—about me needing his help—was almost enough to make me turn around. Think about the last time I asked for his help… didn’t work out so well, did it? But whatever Cole has to offer, whatever nightmare I have to live through going back to the League, is better than being hauled back into the camp.

I don’t think they’d actually take me back into a camp, anyway.

When I got passed the wrong Wilmington, I briefly glimpsed the road sign that read US 13, and a voice suddenly rang in my head.

Turn off here. It urged.

The feeling was distinctly different from my reluctance to meet Cole—it was a drive, asking me to go somewhere, rather than run from somewhere.

Whatever it was, I can’t listen, no matter how hard I wanted to, no matter how it warmed my heart just thinking about that impulse, like it would lead me home, even though I had no idea how.

I got into the city of Philadelphia, and found my brother’s apartment soon enough. When I got into his building, a woman threw me a sideway glance that made my hair stood on their ends.

Please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me… I muttered in my head while I pressed the buzzer. The door swung opened, and I was snatched inside by a forceful arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cole snarled before I could even lay eyes on him properly. “Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”

He looked much better than me, that much was clear. Cole never had any wound that wasn’t his own, and from the looks of him, he hadn’t seen much action lately. His hair was clean-cut, brushed neatly away from his face. He was wearing a white shirt and dark blue jeans, with metal-frame glasses which were clearly without diopters to finish the look. In this getup, you’d expect him to be a graduate student in U Penn, not a high school dropout.

“I… I didn’t have any money to place a call.” I muttered, feeling my voice getting smaller. Gosh, I hated this. I hated that I felt like a child again. I took off my jacket, and hung it on the peg right next to his. They were two identical black leather jackets, which Mom bought us years ago—she got them a couple of sizes bigger than we were at the time, in anticipation that we would eventually grow into them. Cole did, whereas I felt like I still hadn’t.

Cole let out a long and harsh breath, and gave me a scan head to toe. “You’ve seen better days.” He commented eventually, a subtle amusement in his tone. “Even for you, this is a bit excessive…” He gingerly lifted my right wrist, and got a good look at my forearm, all cut up.

You don’t say. I wanted to retort, but didn’t. “What are you doing in Philly?” I asked as I retracted my hand.

Cole raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

Maybe not. “I’d probably know eventually, wouldn’t I?” I said.

He scratched his chin, frowning. “You know what this means, right? You know where we’re going?”

“Look, if I could just find Mom and Harry…” I began, but he raised his hand and stopped me.

“No,” He snapped, “We don’t have that kind of time. My assignment here is done. I’m being extracted at midnight, which is in less than four hours, and if you think I’d let you out running into the wild and being hauled into a camp again, you’d have another thought coming.”

Choose me. I remembered the subtext of what Cole said that night when he left home, and now it was ringing in a different tone. Now I don’t have a choice.

“All right.” I sighed. “Whatever you say.”

He frowned deeper. But it took him a while to say something. “Look, I know the last time you came with me, it didn’t end so well, but things are turning around.” He said, palms down, pacifying. “I promise, just stick it out a few months.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

He bit his lip. “I just do. Trust me.” He said, then gave me a tight smile, “Tell you what, I’ll go get us something to eat, and you clearly need a shower.” He took off his glasses, grabbed the keys, then, as if remembered something, added with a grin, “Do not, drown in the bathtub.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes.

Before he could open the door, though, I stopped him. “Cole,” I began, but didn’t really know how to finish.

“Yeah?” He prompted.

“Have we...” I caught myself just for a moment. What am I doing? “...have we ever been to Virginia Beach?”

Because that…memory? was so vivid, that I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there, calling me at every moment I so much as allowed my mind to idle for a second. But it also had that bright glare around it, like it didn’t really belong to me, like I was seeing it through a mirror, into a different dimension where we were all happier people.

Cole was there, looking exactly like how he was now, but Claire was also there, and that didn’t make any sense…

“No…?” Cole said, “We lived in Wilmington. We went to Wrightsville, remember?”

Of course I do, but… I shook my head. “It’s just… I kept seeing this…memory, that we were there, and Claire was there, too…”

Cole pressed his lips tight. I know mentioning Claire’s name would probably put him on edge, but it’s not like I have other people to talk about her with anyway. A part of me wanted to be a bit mean about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t have the strength.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, voice rigid. “Just go take your shower. I’ll be back with the food.”

And he left, leaving me alone in his white and bare apartment.

I still couldn’t be sure that it was a good idea coming here. If I’m being honest with myself, it wasn’t even about my negative view on the League, or what it had turned my brother into, but that…I’m not sure how to be his brother anymore. I’m not even sure that he needs a brother.

Hell. Looking around this place, I got the feeling that a brother wasn’t the only thing he didn’t need. But then again, knowing how Cole kept his room, it was maybe a good thing that he had so few belongings here. This place…it didn’t even feel like someone actually live here; there were so few things breaking the white of the walls, it was almost glaring to my eyes.

I first went to check his bed, to see if he still has that weird habit—falling asleep with cigarettes still in his hand. His bedsheet looked clean enough; nothing charred. No ashtray, either. Maybe he quit.

Satisfied, I went to grab a t-shirt and a pair of pants from his closet, and dived into the pressurized water in his shower.

I can’t remember when was the last time I had running water. Probably…when I was in the League’s safe house? Gosh. My skin is so filthy, the water only started running clean after a good ten minutes of scrubbing, and I was scrubbing hard.

I was extra careful when I cleaned my arms, though. Not particularly because I was scared of pain, but more that I didn’t want to hurt this…person who might share this unfortunate connection with me, however low the chance might be. I didn’t want to make her suffer even more—somehow, I knew it was a her, for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words.

When I got out of the shower, I felt like my entire body had been turned inside out. My skin was glowing pink against the white tiling of Cole’s bathroom. He is an inch or two taller than me—which was sore to admit, but hey, I went through puberty in a lot worse condition than he did—so his pants hung a little too long around my ankles.

Then I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I looked awful. The dark shadows under my eyes were so purple, they looked almost black. Not to mention the countless scratches and bruises. There was a new one on my left cheek, just above the jawline. Whether it was mine or hers, I didn’t know.

Just as I threw the towel over my head, and started rubbing the water away from my hair, I heard it—siren. It began from a distance, a low wailing, but it was enough to set every hair on my back on its end. As I flew out of Cole’s shower, grabbed my jacket, and rushed to the window side, the siren got closer—and multiplied. The sound of them were like a harmony from hell.

Should I run? Should I stay?

I should run.

Even though they might not be coming for me, I knew better than to push my luck—it hadn’t really been on my side recently, and that woman who looked at me a second too long when I got in the building was probably proving me right. I threw the apartment door open, and on a second thought, ran for the roof instead of the ground floor.

I can reconvene with Cole later. I need to stay out of sight now. Cole’s a smart guy, he knows what to do in a situation like this.

It had started raining. I tripped on a mossy patch on the rooftop, and almost broke my jaw, but I stood up and kept running. I pushed myself over the ledge of the next building, and sprinted for the fire escape on the far end. The sound of the first bullet fired almost made me lose my bearing when I lowered myself onto the metal shaft.

They are on the other side. There were two fully populated buildings between me and those bullets, and they were firing at someone else—which means I’m not who they’re after. These are all good news.

Right?

Since when had I been that lucky after I turned twelve?

I pulled the hood of the jacket over my head, and dove into the shadow of the next alley. The gunfire had stopped, which meant that they probably got whoever they were after. I took the long way around the block, trying to get a hang of the situation, getting an idea of where I could find Cole without being spotted—

Oh, I found him alright.

Fuck. No. Fuck.

I only caught sight of him for a second before they slammed the back of that van shut, and in that brief second, he looked up, and he saw me.

No.

Christ. No. I… I got him caught. I did… I did this… Why didn’t I warn him? Why didn’t I go to him as soon as I heard the siren?

What have I done?

If you’re caught, you’re disavowed. I still remembered that phrase like it was etched into my skull. If anything encapsulates what I hate about the League the most, this is it. And now, Cole is going to be another casualty under that cold hard rule. The thought almost made my knees buckled, but instead of crashing down, I up and ran.

I ran. From this nightmare of my own making.

+++

Ruby

“Ruby!”

The scream came before the punch could land. I didn’t register what was happening in that first moment, not until the blood was dripping down my elbows, and staining the blue mats under us.

“Go to the infirmary!” Coach Johnson ordered, and I gladly obeyed. I could hear the whispering judgements forming even before I left the training room—what was that? What’s wrong with her? Where did those come from?

I knew exactly where they came from.

If Chubs was here, he’d likely yell at me for not getting these wounds taken care of immediately, but I simply…couldn’t. I ran for the shower stall, being careful not to stain the curtain, and turn on the tap.

With the water pouring out the showerhead, steaming up every bit of air around me, blurring my vision, I finally let the tears fall.

My arms didn’t hurt that much. At least, not as much as my heart. The bruises were bearable—who doesn’t get those occasionally living in the wild? I got one every other day even just from the training. But these cuts…he was in danger. Maybe he only got away with it within an inch of his life.

The only consolation I had was that I wasn’t mortally wounded, which meant he wasn’t, either. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t regret my decision of letting him go every second of every day.

If I did that to protect him, all these wounds and bruises only proved how wrong I was, how in vain my suffering had been.

“Ruby?” Cate’s voice.

I swallowed hard before answering. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?” She asked, standing outside of my stall.

“Yes.” I lied.

“Coach Johnson said you were hurt—” She didn’t buy it. “Look, if you don’t want to go to the infirmary, I can take a look—”

“I’m fine.” I cut her off. The timer on the tap beeped, warning me that the water would start running cold. My blood was dripping down from my fingers, dropping into the shallow water on the concrete floor like roses blooming in the snow.

“Ruby, I can see the blood.” Cate said dryly, then softer, coaxing. “Come out, please. Let me dress your wounds.”

Only if I could just close my eyes, and pretend for a second that the person who was waiting for me with antiseptic was Chubs, not Cate. If only I could pretend that these wounds were mine, not of the boy that I dreamt of every night for the past few months.

If only I could pretend that they were here with me, or that I wasn’t here at all.

I sighed, and brushed the curtain open. To Cate’s credit, she didn’t flinch at the sight of me. “Oh, Ruby…” She said with a tone like I was a stray cat ready to be put down. She reached out, and gingerly lifted my hand to get a better look at my arm.

“Press on it.” She handed me a towel, and sat down on the bench before patting the empty space beside her, motioning for me to join her.

I did as she said as she tore open a paper package. “This is going to hurt a little…” She gently dabbed the fabric square on my wounds, and I hissed out of reflex. I hated this. I hated showing her my weakness, and I guessed, in a weird way, she understood that. She didn’t comment on any of it, only continued to wrap my arms up in silence.

“There.” When she’s done, both of my forearms were wrapped entirely in gauzes.

“Th…thank you.” I managed to choke out.

She gave me a tender smile. “Don’t mention it.” She stood up, collecting the empty packages off the bench, and turned to leave.

Before she was out of the door, however, she turned around, and said, “You know, you get those wounds together, and you heal together, too.” She paused for a second, “You’re…not entirely helpless in this situation.”

Ten minutes after she left, I was still sitting on that bench, pondering her words. I didn’t even know what she said was true, but if it was, it meant that when I took care of myself, I took care of him, too. That, somehow, didn’t seem so bad.

I wondered how Cate knew that. She and Rob were clearly not soulmates, and I didn’t even know why she would want to date him, even without considering that fact. Rob—ruthless, arrogant, hateful—was everything opposite to what she seemed to hold dear.

But then again, she probably didn’t understand why someone would find their soulmate only to let them go on their own.

That day when I let Liam go, I made a decision that I would be whoever the League wants me to be, and make it so that they wouldn’t miss him. And for the longest time, I had kept to that promise. But not today, not now.

I just want to be myself again, even if it’s just for a moment.

So I brushed open the curtain to the stall, and allowed myself to be vulnerable again, for everyone and no one to see.

+++

His eyes traveled from my face to where the water had collected on my chest, and I raised my arms just that much higher.

His mouth half-opened for what I was sure to be a snide remark, but whatever it was never managed to pass his lips. His face froze, brows drew together, and he reached out. Before I could shift away—to where though, I had no idea; my back was already against the wall—he grabbed my wrist, and lifted my arm.

“It was you.” Cole said with a tone of half astonishment, half…anger?

“What was?” I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide how much I felt like a kid being caught red-handed, stealing candy bars.

He threw me a “really?” look. “Don’t insult my intelligence.” He snapped, “These are Liam’s, aren’t they?”

I almost asked “how do you know”, but that would confirm his suspicion. “What makes you say that?” I asked instead.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not playing games with you.” He huffed, “Soulmates should stick together. What were you thinking sending him out into the wild? Do you have any idea how dangerous he is to you? Or you to him? The poor bastard doesn’t even know you exist!”

“And as long as I stay in the League, that fact shall remain.” I said, more resolute and calmer than I thought possible.

He blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Look, I don’t care what kind of sainthood complex you have going on, I’m telling you—you are not doing either of you any favors, and if you think this is somehow a good idea, I beg you, think again, because you definitely look smarter than this.”

“What do you know?” I retorted, finally couldn’t keep the lid on my anger anymore. “Do you have any idea how much he hates it here? How hard he was trying to avoid this place before you drag him into this mess?”

Cole really laughed. “You think I don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I met his glare head on. “I was the one that let him go when he got away that first time.” He tried to brush his hair back with his hand, but it gave out a weird flex before he could reach his head. “And I’ve seen enough soulmates pairs in my life to know that I never want one. Have you any idea what would happen to him if you were injured when he was on the run? Soulmates stick together so they don’t double their chances on dying, but I guess no one ever set your logic straight, did they?”

My head was so flushed with anger that I actually let him finished.

“Go find him.” Cole snapped. “And for Christ’s sake, stay together this time.”

+++

Liam

“I didn’t need freedom; I needed you!” I half-screamed, trying to get the frustration out past the chaos raging in my head. How could I—? How could she—? What the hell—?

On the receiving end of my scream, Ruby’s face was painted with grief, lined with tears that almost made my anger buckle. Almost.

“Did you just…not want to be with me anymore?” Facing her silence, my pain came out softer eventually. Please, just tell me, and I will leave you alone.

“No…” She choked out. “I… I was wrong.” She swallowed hard before continuing, and despite the anger still roaming my vein, I wanted to reach out and touch her. “We should…we should stay together. I knew I couldn’t bear to see you with the League, see them take away all the good in you that I love…”

“Is that how you think of me?” I snapped before I realized what I was doing, “That I am so weak that the League is bound to break me?”

“No!” She shook her head violently, “No, I don’t think you are weak… If anything, I think you are much stronger than me. But I was weak.” She finally looked back at me, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light of this dust-covered room. “I’m so sorry.”

Before I could react to what she said—I didn’t even know what I was going to say or do—the sound of a gunshot broke every single thought clean out of my head.

Ruby was running before I could do anything about it. She pushed the door of the shop open, and another shot blew open the window on the outside, shattering the glass all over the floor.

“Ruby!” I shouted as I dodged, crouching with my hands over my ears, but she was already up and running again, out of the door and behind the woman that was escaping the scene—with a gun in her hands.

“Ruby, stop!” I shouted again, got on my feet to catch her, but I never manage. I skidded on the broken glass, and fell, hands first, into the shards.

I heard her hiss. She stopped dead on her way, and whirled around to find me on the floor, holding my right hand on my laps, pressing it against the fabric of my jeans to try and stop the bleeding.

The blood was dripping down to her fingers. As she walked slowly towards me, the red, looking almost black, dropped on the dust-covered floor, leaving a spotting route, marking her path. When she knelt down beside me, finally close enough to touch me, I found that she was smiling. A totally mirthless, wry and painful smile.

“Give me your hand.” She said softly, almost like a whisper.

“You should treat yours first.” I said, trying to catch her hand, to see how much of a damage I’d done.

“We only need to treat one of us.” She let out a small breath, almost like something caught there. “We get them together, and we heal them together, too.”

That, somehow, broke through all the mess in my head and reached my mind. I let her take my arm, and carefully wrap her scarf on my hand, all the while her words played on repeat in my head.

We get them together, and we heal them together, too.

When she was done wrapping my hand up, the wounds on her hand stopped bleeding, too. I didn’t know why—I wasn’t even completely over that anger or frustration—but when she placed her hand in mine, a tender “there” escaping her lips, all I wanted to do was kiss her.

Instead, I gently enveloped my fingers around her hand. “There.” I said, pressing my good hand over hers.

And we stayed in that silent, that touch, just a little while longer.

+++

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Under A Storm - Bucky Barnes x mystery (f)reader Avenger

Summary: You’ve been in love with Bucky for awhile now, and so has he, what will happen when you reveal your true origins? Will he still love you?

Warning: got some good’ol angst, fluffy times with Bucky I don’t hate you I promise

Masterlist

“I think I’m winning. Just putting that out there.” You quip, not even breaking a sweat as Bucky uses everything in his power to get your arm to budge, even just a little.

“I’m trying...just give me a moment..” Grumbles Bucky as he strains to keep his metal arm from reaching defeat at the end of the table.

For the entirety of the day the two of you have been wandering around the Avengers base with nothing better to do then annoy Tony in his lab, and harass Clint who’s recovering from a broken arm while everyone else is off somewhere in the Netherlands, probably freezing their asses off.

Luckily for you, Steve said this was your vacation week, while Bucky on the other hand was told to hang back while his abdominal scars heal up nice and pretty. And since you could care less about heading down south to some fancy and excessively hot beach all on your lonesome, you’ve decided to keep your friends company. Especially Bucky.

But if you’re being honest with yourself here, you mostly just stayed to spend time with Bucky. Ah yes, that beautifully handsome blue eyed bastard with the metal arm and incredibly good looks paired with an equally as stellar personality.

It’s almost like the universe said “I know you’ve had a hard time down there so here’s this literal angel for you, you’re welcome, lots of love now go and do nothing about it sucker.”

It’s not like you didn’t want to make a move, it’s just, you’re origins are so different from his. In fact, your ass isn’t even from earth! You’re not even an actual human being! Granted you look humanly enough, separate from the fact that you’ve got a beautiful pair of darkly colored curled horns, and eyes the color of fire embers that reflects light due to your nocturnal vision.

But other then those little oddities about yourself, you look pretty normal, even more so when wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. Which has become a staple of your usual street attire in general and even when on missions.

Even with all the mystery that still surrounds you and that you’ve kept hidden within yourself since you’ve met him, Bucky likes having you around anyway, and without a doubt you are his favorite person on the team.

Smiling adoringly, you chuckle while Bucky struggles to pin your arm to the table, while your arm holds his up with little effort due to your inhuman strength.

He’s trying really hard, putting all of his effort and sweat into winning this round, which would be the first if he does happen to win, which you already know won’t be happening today, nor the next week.

“Just give me a moment.” Mutters Bucky through clenched teeth as his metal arm adjusts and readjusts to use as much strength as physically possible by this special Wakandian tech.

Blowing air out of your lips, you casually rest your head against your knuckles on your free hand as you wait for him to finally crack, “Just tap out or I’ll pin you again. And I know how much you hate losing.”

“I’m not tapping out Y/N.” Says Bucky defensively as he focuses all his energy into moving your arm even just an itty bitty inch, something, anything.

“Fine then.” You reply before slamming his metal arm against the table with a loud clang that rings throughout the entire lounging area. He quickly gives you an annoyed look as your face turns into a bright grin.

“I hate you.” Grumbles Bucky as he leans back into the couch.

Snatching your water bottle from the side table, you take a swig before shrugging, “We don’t have room in this house for weak bitches. Barnes I’m sorry to say this but....you’ve gotta go.”

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance before the corners of his eyes begin to crinkle, followed by his beautiful smile and then that contagious laugh. “Y/N I couldn’t make it without you, please be kind.” He pleads jokingly as you set the bottle down.

“I’ll consider your words.” You muse with a dramatic hair flip as he reaches over to take the half empty bottle of water, drinking it all in one long chug that has you memorized for a good ten seconds.

Snapping out of your Bucky-being-unknowingly-hot-without-realizing-it trance, you quickly fake pout, “My water you ass!”

“I’m from Russia so it’s our water.”

“Shut up you just lived there.” You retort before giving him a double take, “And hey.”

“Ah, come on doll let’s go bother Clint again.” Suggests Bucky as he rises to his feet and walks around the table to pull you to yours as well. God all you wanna do is kiss that stupid face of his and shove him back down onto the couch and...

“Hey guys what’s up.” Chirps Clint as Bucky wanders into Tony’s lab, you following right after.

Nodding to him in acknowledgment, you casually shrug while looking around at the various contraptions and work-in-progresses, “Oh you know, the usual.”

“Here to lighten up the place? Things were getting pretty dull.” Confirms Clint just as Tony walks out of the bathroom.

“I heard that. And what? Are we not having fun? Are you not entertained?”

“I’m entertained all right.”

“Exactly.” Points Tony before shifting his attention over to Bucky, “Speaking of entertainment. I need you for a little something out back involving a knife and you throwing it at a couple things I’ve been testing out.”

“He’d love too.” You add with a beaming grin as Bucky turns to glare at you, noticing his agitation you quickly take a step forward and squeeze his shoulders, “Right?”

Pursing his lips together, Bucky turns his head to face an expectant Tony before glaring back down at you, “Sure.”

“Alright great! Just follow me and let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Claps the genius enthusiastically as he gathers a bag full of various materials, making certain to snatch a camera before making for the door. Oh, you’ve gotta watch that tape later.

Releasing your grip from Bucky’s broad shoulders, you hand him a small smile, “Hehe sorry.”

“You owe me you little asshole.” Jokes Bucky with an apprehensive smirk as he swiftly touches your chin affectionately before turning to jog out the door after Tony.

Smiling like a fool in love, you suppress a childish giggle as Clint loudly slurps down a smoothie, “You got it bad kid, you really do.”

Raising a brow at him, you walk over to the swivel chair he’s seated comfortably on and take the free spot on the table nearby, “I’m almost as old as the dinosaurs so don’t call me kid.” You sass, causing him to chuckle.

“Fair point. But still, you’ve got it bad Y/N.” Rolling your ember irises, you let out a huff of air as he grins knowingly, “Decide on telling him anytime soon or are we waiting for something tragic to happen first?”

“I’ll get around to it.” You mutter unenthusiastically as Clint takes another long pause to awkwardly suck down his weirdly colored smoothie.

“Sure. Okay, and I believe the earth is flat.” Snorts Clint, his words absolutely dripping in sarcasm.

Scoffing you throw a dirty cloth at him before letting your head fall into your hands, “It’s too fucking difficult Clint. I’m too goddamn weird.”

“What?” Laughs Clint in bewilderment, genuinely surprised that you would say such a thing considering he’s know you for years and finds that completely false, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“No it’s true.” You mumble against your palms, “He doesn’t know about everything about me yet, I don’t wanna freak him out just as he’s starting to like me alright.”

“Ah, so he does like you.” Confirms Clint with a knowing nod, “I knew it.”

“Yeah me too.”

Nodding slowly once again, the archer stands and makes the less then 1 foot distance to reach you. Head still in your hands, he gently knocks a fist against one of your horns as you try your best to ignore his existence.

“Knock. Knock. Anyone home?” Asks your friend as he awaits in hope that he can talk some real sense into you about your strong feelings for Bucky. “Please, I know you’re in there Y/N, time to open up.”

Cracking a smile at his theatrics, you slowly release your head from your palms to greet him with an annoyed half glare, “By the way I am not waiting for something terrible to happen. I have my reasons okay.”

“Your reasons being...”

Biting your lip, you pull your legs up to sit cross legged on the table, “You don’t get it Clint, I’m me alright. I’m not from this planet, I’ve got horns, I can sense peoples emotions, and since my mother is Goddess of the Underworld I’m technically herald of bringing this earth to a bloody and violent end!” You shout as he keeps the most irritating of faces on, making your anger rise by the second.

“Isn’t it nice to talk about our feelings.” Replies Clint in the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard, if you weren’t so flustered right now you could probably have laughed.

“Fuck off Clint I’m in love and he doesn’t know that shit part about me.” You grumble with a frown, “Bucky doesn’t know anything.”

“Well...” Wonders Clint for a brief moment, “Maybe he should. I mean you said it yourself, he does have affections for you.”

“Oh I know he does, every time I’m around him he smells like what happiness and love smells like.”

“Which is?”

“Hard to describe in this world, but it’s the best smell in existence.” You admit with the smallest of smiles as you think about Bucky, “Clint why do I have to feel this way? Why does he have to love me? I’m destined for terrible things....or, well...I was, but still.”

Noticing how your eyes have suddenly glossed over, Clint holds your shoulder while giving you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, listen to me. You will never do anything like that, you’re too morally correct and are almost the embodiment of a kitten for that shit anyways. And I know Bucky will love you either way, because he’s Bucky and that man needs a wild woman like you in his life to keep things interesting. You’ll be fine, believe me.”

Shutting your eyes tight, you reveal the tiniest of smiles before looking at Clint, “Maybe you’re not just a pretty face after all. Thanks Clint I needed that.”

Taking a step back, be claps his hands together happily, “Why thank you. I’ve been watching a lot of Ted talks on our higher purpose and motivation recently and you gave me the perfect opportunity to test my insight.”

“Clint you’re ridiculous.” You laugh, “But still, I think it’s time to tell him. I just hope he’s okay after all is said and done because I don’t know what I’d do with myself if he walks away.” You worry.

“Well if he does I make the best margaritas...”

“Shut up.”

——

For the past half an hour your mind has been swimming with worries and thoughts about how Bucky may react when you tell him the full truth of your origins, and possible future that you’ve fought to keep away since you walked into this world.

He’s only a man, a full mortal, but you have grown to love him so much it hurts sometimes.

Your ember eyes watch as the trees sway back and forth with the moody wind who pushes and pulls them back. A storm is on the rise as giant puffy dark clouds appear in the far distance, causing the once sunny day to darken.

You slouch lazily in your comfy plush lounging chair, one that you easily dragged over to the nearest giant window to watch the clouds race by while you wait for Bucky to return. Getting lost in your drifting thoughts in the process.

“Guess we won’t be going for a walk today after all.” Interrupts Bucky from your jumbled mind, your head immediately turns to watch as he walks from the kitchen to your side by the window.

“Yeah, too bad. I’m not that mad though, I like listening to the thunderstorms.” You confirm with a casual shrug.

Bucky smiles down at you, head turning to watch as the wind rushes against the trees, “I guess there is a beauty in the chaos....but hey Y/N, you know what we could do now?”

Chuckling at his excited expression, you tilt your head up, giving him your full undivided attention, “I’m dying to know Buck.” You muse with a cute little smirk that unknowingly caused his heart to jump with happiness.

Breaking out into a shy smile, Bucky quickly runs his fingers through his less then shoulder length hair, “Uh, what do you say to a movie night? With me?” He asks cautiously, hoping you’ll say yes so he gets even the tiniest opportunity to maybe, possibly, cuddle you.

Your eyes shift back to the growing grey clouds as small water droplets flicker against the window, smiling to yourself, you swiftly stand and turn to face him, “That’s a compelling question...” You muse with a lopsided grin, your hand rising to touch the tip of your chin thoughtfully as he leans against the thick window with a bemused smirk, “And since you asked so nicely and look so very polite too, oh I guess it’d be a tragedy and lonesome night if I declined.” You laugh.

“It would be very lonely for sure.” Agrees Bucky, his face suddenly shifting to slight nervousness, “So uh....you in?”

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you playfully roll your eyes, “No shit I’m in.” You quip before walking past him and into the kitchen for a drink, Bucky following close behind.

He stops to lean his torso against the marble countertop as you fill up a glass of water, “Well I wasn’t completely sure, just checking.” He admits with a nervous chuckle. Bucky you are unbelievably adorable.

Finishing your drink, you roll your eyes as he hangs his head in slight embarrassment, “God Buck, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” You jest, causing his cheeks to dust pink as he rises his head to meet your shimmering irises. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, incredibly glad that you can’t read minds like Wanda.

Little does he know you can sense emotions, smell them even if they’re strong enough; and if Bucky doesn’t just smell of love and absolute joy right. It’s the most adorable thing in the whole entire world, there’s no fucking way you’ll refrain from admitting your feelings tonight. It just wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t.

“Hey I’m trying here.” He protests half defensively, pushing himself off the counter as you walk around and head for the door. He’s at your side in a second, smile on and eyes trained on nothing but you.

Keeping your eyes forward, you bite your lip as he stares, suddenly his metal arm gives you a slight friendly nudge and now you have no choice but to look at his dumb face, “You think I’m pretty?” He wonders with a mischievous smirk.

“Yeah.” You mutter before pushing him to the side as he’s drifted comfortably close to you, “Pretty annoying.” You retort, doing your best to hold in your laughter as he takes offense and grips his chest dramatically.

“Y/N you monster.” Gasps Bucky, mouth a-gap as he watches you casually shrug.

“I am evil and cold blooded what can I say.” You muse back, a smug grin on your lips that Bucky would like nothing more then to kiss right now. Yet he refrains, not today, he needs to gather his courage first.

Turning the corner to the Avengers sleeping quarters, he quickly stops when he realizes none of you know which room to take, tugging at his sleeve you hand him a calming grin, “We’ll watch in mine. You’re bed is too hard anyways.”

“It is not.” He argues.

“It is too.”

“Not.”

“Well it is so shut up.”

“Not.”

Pushing him into his door, you raise a brow at him, “Just get the movie, I’ll be in my room waiting for your annoying ass.”

Shaking his head at your humorous sass, he quickly salutes you before opening up his door, “What are we thinking? Horror? Comedy? Adventure? All three?”

Taking a step forward, you lean in closer to Bucky; almost testing the waters, before lightly pushing him backwards by his strong chest, “Surprise me.” You quip, wiggling your brow once for emphasis. He breaks out into an adorable crooked grin as he watches you leave and close your own door right across from him.

After making record time changing into your comfortable movie watching sweatpants and some ten year old shirt from Nat that says SHIRT in red letters with the R in a dull grey. Yeah, its one of your favorites; you race to turn the tv on as rain pounds against the glass, one flash of lightening strikes in the distance as a knock sounds at your door. Bucky.

Bolting for the door so fast you almost trip on a stray hoodie, you quickly regain your cool before taking a breath and opening up the metal door. You’re immediately greeted with the smiling face of Bucky as he holds a movie and two beers.

Leaning nonchalantly against the door frame you meet him with the chillest guise you can muster, “So, you come here often?”

Bucky instantly chuckles at your amusing antics as a small blush creeps out over his stubbled cheeks, “Only when I’m invited.” He replies before holding up the movie, “Is this one good?” Hell yes, and you’re now in my room.

Snatching it out of his hand you pull him fully into the room by tugging on his red shirt without much warning, he practically stumbles in, quickly regaining his balance while you shut the door and practically swagger over to the bed. Bucky following close behind.

You gracefully jump onto the comfortable mattress and twist into a seated position before grabbing some kind of hand held scanner, Bucky awkwardly shuffling to the bedside as he then moves to find a spot against the headboard as you fumble around with the movie and whatever device is in your hand.

Raising a brow he watches in curiosity, “Uh, Y/N. What exactly is that?”

“A movie scanner made by Tony. I scan said film and boom it translates to the tv no problem. Technology right.”

He nods in understanding as you press some button and suddenly the movie is on the tv screen, set and ready to play, “Woah.” He mumbles, genuinely in awe of the advanced tech of today. And how fast you were able to do that, god you’re just the best, he thinks.

A second later he flinches back as you throw a pillow at his side, “Shit sorry.” You mutter almost shyly while crawling to his side, “Heads up.”

“Yeah thanks for the warning. I’ll sit on the floor next time until you give me the all clear.” Sasses Bucky as you sit, grabbing the pillow and smacking him on the side of his head while also pretending not to notice your little theatric as you turn towards the screen. Very nonchalant.

Bucky on the other hand is left with some disheveled hair and the dumbest smile on his handsome face while you press play and grab a beer from out of his right hand, “I’m gonna take this.” You add before gasping in excitement, “You wanna watch something?! I have a party trick! It’s a good one too, you wanna see!”

“Please.” Snickers Bucky as you turn to face him better. He watches in awe as you raise the bottle to your left horn and in one calculated motion, use the sharp tip to crack open the beer bottle. “Wow.”

“I know right!” You exclaim with excitement, “It took me a week to perfect it. I just kept breaking the bottles neck and then Steve would drink after cause he can’t get drunk so.....uh yeah, you want me to open yours too?”

“I’d be honored.”

After drinking both your beers and watching the movie progress in relative peace, with the occasional gust of wind against the glass and a crack of thunder and lightening here and there. All was going pretty well, Bucky was laying on his one side while you were laying on your stomach totally engrossed in the film until....

Crack! BOOM! Darkness.

“Dammit! They were getting to the best part!” You whine, shifting around to sit while dramatically yelling out your frustration as Bucky turns to lay on his back, suppressing bemused laughter while you curse the shit excuse for efficient electricity in this place.

“It’ll come back on soon.” He inquires, “Guess you’ll just have to talk to me now.”

Snapping your head over to him, you scoff, “Why do I feel like you planned this?”

“I thought you planned this? Considering.....well, I guess I don’t really know.” He says thoughtfully, pausing for a moment before he hums, “We could ask each other questions.”

Y/N this is the absolute perfect opportunity, take it you lovestruck idiot, “Uh, yeah sure....I like knowing things.” You internally cringe, wanting to smack your head for that one; and you thought you could go a full hour without embarrassing yourself. Nope.

Nevertheless, Bucky smiles in the darkness, “Alright uh, let me think.......hmm okay uh.....where are you from? Since I’ve never really asked about that before.”

Well, fuck. I guess he’s going for the big guns straight off the bat.

Biting your lip anxiously, you twist a piece of frayed fabric from your one strange little pillow as you gather your courage to finally tell him everything. This is it, no holding back, “Oh uh.....well......you know I’m not from earth, yes?”

“Yeah, I did know that. The horns.”

“Right, good.” You mutter, your voice wavering with nervousness so much that Bucky sits up and turns to properly look at you even if he can’t really see your face.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He worries, brows furrowing in concern.

Hastily you regain your once dampened composure, “Yes! Yes.....yeah, I’m good. Awesome. Great....”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it because you had a bad childhood?” Quips Bucky, using your own inside joke against you to help lighten the mood and make you laugh.

Snorting in amusement you smack his arm, Bucky mentally rejoices when he hears the sweet song of your happiness coming back, and the light sting of your always powerful hand.

“I didn’t have a bad childhood Bucky.” You admit, voice suddenly somber and thoughtful, “I didn’t even have a childhood.” Already getting depressing Y/N, nice one.

“oh.”

You shrug, letting out an apprehensive sigh as you look from the window then back to Bucky again, while he tries to watch your every move in the blackness of the room, “Bucky....there’s some things in this world that are so incredibly hard to comprehend and fully understand....you’ve seen the power Wanda can create and the talent of the mind stone inside Visions head. Yes?”

He sits in deep thought at your intriguing words, trying to piece together where you may be going with this, “Of course. What does that have to do with you?”

“I wasn’t actually born like a normal being....rather, I was formed and created by my mothers will and raw power. I was molded by earth, thunder, magic, and chaos.....I am.....well..” You sigh, “I don’t really know.”

“Well that’s......neat.”

Cracking a small smile, you continue on, lest confuse him more, “My mother...which I assume you’re curious about by now. She’s essentially, goddess of the Underworld, keeper of beasts and master of chaos. Some type of divine something, who can really say when I’m not even sure.”

Bucky stays silent for longer then you would like, each extra second making you grow more nervous and regretful for revealing all this to him. Soon enough he answers, “So that means.....Y/N you’re technically a demigod?”

“I guess.”

He pauses for another moment before gently shaking your leg, “Y/N! That is the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.”

“What?” Is he serious?

“You’re a demigod! I’m sitting next to a demigod. Y/N I didn’t think you could be any more amazing then you already are.” Exclaims Bucky in awe as you cover your face in your hands, a flash of lightning illuminating your reaction.

Immediately he stiffens and feels maybe he shouldn’t have reacted that way, “oh, uh.....Y/N? Is that not a good thing?”

“No. Not really.” You mutter sadly.

Bucky frowns, “Please tell me why? Because I think you’re the best person alive and I don’t want you to be upset.”

Releasing your hands from your face, you let out a shaky breath, “It’s why I was created. Not out of love, or the want of a daughter.....she formed me so one day I will turn this world to ruin.”

“Why-I don’t understand?”

“She has made me live among the mortal before, in other realms, other planets very far away from here.....I learn about them, I see how they live, how they treat one another and if she sees that they are terrible and violent to each other through what I tell her....”

“Well, I imprison their world leaders, forcing them witness portals open to the Underworld...where beasts of all ugliness and terror wipe out most of the population.” You reveal, your voice breaking with every word, “I then kill all of them......and turn them to more beasts....hellhounds.....shadow creatures.”

You swallow hard as Bucky takes a moment to process the heavy imagery and story you’ve just told him. You can sense how conflicted he feels, he’s known you as the literal funniest and sweetest person ever; he’s come to fall in love with you even, how could you do such horrible things, “Did you enjoy it.” He asks, voice slightly colder then you would have liked, but you understand.

“It’s all I knew. It’s what she created me for, my only purpose. Her herald of death..I..I can’t say..”

“Did you?” He interrupts, sadness lacing his words now, the anger and disappointment only but a slight simmering in the back of his voice.

Your heart breaks in two, he feels hurt by this news of what you did to others, “I did.” You monster. He’ll never love you now.

The atmosphere is thick with emotional tension, if not for the sound of the raging storm outside, you’re certain you could hear a needle hit the carpet. His breaths are slow and heavy, you can tell he’s deeply conflicted with what to do now, yet he refrains from leaving your side.

“Why did you stop?” Asks Bucky, voice a soft whisper as a flash of lightning illuminates around your sides, ember eyes and two curled horns flashing for a brief moment and your heart sinks when he slightly flinches.

Hanging your head low, you nervously fumble with your hands, “Because I met someone....he reminds me of you actually, I guess I felt...” Biting your lip, you suck in a breath as a stray tear runs down the side of your cheek, “I fell in love....it was a long time ago, before this continent was discovered. He gave me humanity, empathy, and I saw what I was truly doing....I bared witness to the monster I truly was. So I ended it.”

You pause, nothing is said from either one of you for a long time until at last you break the tension, “I don’t deserve forgiveness from anyone. I hate my mother and my only friends are the people here. You don’t have to stay any longer then you want.”

“I want to stay.”

“oh.”

He takes another heavy sigh, “And this whole time I though I was the worst person on the team.” Muses Bucky to your great surprise and puzzlement.

“What? You’re not mad I don’t understand? Not even scared or disappointed...you’re just...uh...”

“I’m what? Y/N what wild thing are you about to tell me now? I cut it off with learning you’re a demigod who caused multiple apocalypse’s.”

Slowly sitting up a bit more, you fold your legs and fully face him as he tries to see you in the darkness, “I can kinda....uh....sense peoples emotions and umm....smell the scent if its strong enough.”

“Can you sense what I feel right now?” Asks Bucky, voice above a whisper though you hear it all the same.

Hugging your sides, you nod, “Yes.” He’s practically ecstatic, he feels relieved and grateful that you have trusted him enough to share something so deep and personal. He smells sweet, better then the most lovely of flowers or most delicious of fruits. He smells of love and hope, paired with a smile that could warm a frozen lake.

Reaching a hand out into the darkness, you quickly take his with yours as he brings his other one in to gently clasp your hands with his, “Don’t believe I would ever leave you Y/N....you mean more to me then anything else in this entire world and I’m honored to be someone so special to you. I hope this isn’t too soon or rushed but uh....I love you.”

The way you subconsciously tighten your grip on his hands is enough to indicate that his words have been well received, “I know Bucky.” You confirm with a small smile, “I love you too.” A second later his lips crash messily against the corner of your lips as he fails to completely find them in the darkness. oh, you idiot.

Smiling into the kiss, you pull him into a fierce hug as your lips move slowly and blissfully against one another, his hands quickly find their way around your waist as yours reach up into his long dark hair that you love so much. Moments after you and Bucky fall in a heap of tangled limbs onto the soft mattress, lips still feverously locked with one another. Soon he begins subconsciously smiling into the kiss which causes you to giggle with amusement for how absolutely adorable he’s being right now.

Confused to your cheerful laughter, Bucky breaks from the kiss to gently beck your cheek before resting his head against yours, “I wish I could see you right now.” Mumbles Bucky as he holds you flush against him.

Kissing his stubbly cheek, you quietly snicker, “I can see you.”

“Let me guess?” Humorously asserts Bucky as his fingers trail casually down and up your back, “You can see in the dark too......this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I look good?” He wonders.

“I’m gonna faint you’re so hot.”

And with that said does he pull you in for another heated embrace, tonight's defiantly going to go extremely well for you. Without a doubt.

[thedupshadove]

Scooby Doo Idea

Okay. The Gang were friends in high school, and while they all (with one notable exception. Stay tuned.) went to different colleges, they stayed in touch. They had had sort of an amateur investigative service running back in school, so when they all got out of their respective post-high-school obligations and realized that they all had no immediate plans (and privately, each of them realized that they all had emotional damage that made them reluctant to just go do adult life), they decided to take their investigative skills on the road, mostly as an excuse to semi-drop-out of society. Hey, it’s 1970. These things happen. But then, wherever they go they keep bumping into things that really do need solving. (“But where did they get the money for the van?” Daphne. “But all the food they have to buy--” Daphne. “But most people probably don’t pay them once their mystery gets solved--” Daphne. Daphne hasn’t even come into her inheritance proper yet, but her trust fund alone could buy Switzerland for cash.) Again, we are not trying to make this take on the series “modern” or “interesting” by having the characters constantly be at each other’s throats. They genuinely care about each other (and because this is me, will have settled into a full-on polycule before the series is over). It’s just that they all have,  from various sources, considerable emotional damage that they need to do their best to work through. (But we’re gonna do our best not to let them be defined by their damage. They still have [variants on] the personalities we know and love from the old cartoons.)

Norville “Shaggy” Rogers: As high school came to a close, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to major in at college...and then Uncle Sam called, and he never got a chance to decide, because it was 1966 and the war was hungry. After three years of Hell, he got shot in the shoulder just badly enough to qualify for a discharge home, where he spent the next year failing to shake it off. Luckily for him, he’s blessed with a fairly supportive, understanding family, but still, he’s been through things no teenager should have to, and he’s been left with scars far deeper than the one in his left shoulder. (Note to self: get as accurate a picture as possible of actual PTSD symptoms. Yes, he has nightmares, and yes, there may be the occasional flashback, but we need more than just those two cliché things. Let’s see, what do I already know? Well, he gets protective of people he cares about, he’s generally kind of nervous and jumpy [as is the standard for this character, but now with more of a concrete reason], his huge appetite may partially be a reaction to memories of starving in the jungle; now that food is plentiful, he eats, because he can’t entirely convince his subconscious that it’s going to stay plentiful. And for all his cowardice, when things get bad, I mean really bad, he slips into a sort of...detached competence. A fugue-like, hyper-focused calm in which he knows exactly what to do, and will put all his energy into seeing it done.) However, as I said, none of these people are entirely defined by their damage. When he’s calm, or at least comparatively calm (which sometimes comes with the help of pot) there shines through a caring, empathetic, gentle man with a surprisingly deep wisdom and a laid-back sense of humor. Also, in addition to his voracious appetite, he’s an excellent cook, and putting his energy into cooking is one of the things that can help calm him down after his symptoms get bad, and generally be a thing in his life that helps him heal. In addition to this, during his Year Of Failed Recovery, his uncle, who had a similarly hard time recovering after World War Two, suggested that he get a dog, advice which Shaggy took, which brings us to…

Scoobert “Scooby” Doo: What you need to understand about Scooby in this version is...he’s a dog. He’s very intelligent...for a dog. He’s very helpful in dangerous situations...for a dog. He’s surprisingly good at communicating with humans...for a dog. But he doesn’t talk, and he is not supernatural in any other way. He’s a dog. Nevertheless, he serves an important role in the group, not least of which is as Shaggy’s (though he’s never officially called this, as I believe the phenomenon was not a recognized as a medical phenomenon in 1970) emotional support dog. Like most dogs, he’s good at sensing what mood his people are in, and Shaggy is his people (and so are the others, eventually), so even though the actual training that emotional support animals get today didn’t exist for him to get, he can tell when Shaggy is in a particularly upset mood, and offer comfort. In addition, having an animal to care for gave Shaggy one more means of grounding. Plus, it doesn’t matter how well-planned your criminal scheme is, or how dedicated you are to it, if a big fuckoff Great Dane comes charging at you full-tilt, you’re gonna move. Most of his usual cowardice is probably gone in this version; in fact, if he feels that his people are in danger, he will not hesitate to square up and fight.

Frederick “Fred” “Freddie” Herman Jones: His father wanted a strong son; an athlete; the golden All-American boy...and he got it, by Hell or high water. Genuine interest in his son as a person? Willingness to support unconventional hobbies? Any affection given without Fred “earning” it by living up to one of the many standards of “manliness”? Naaaaaaaahhhh. Which was a problem, because Fred showed early on that he had little natural inclination towards what his father wanted him to be. His interests lay in painting, a particular breed of fashion, and mechanical things (and not the car kind.) Well, Papa Jones didn’t want any egghead or sissy for a son, and his efforts to “correct the problem” were, by most estimations, excessive. The man had a fast and furious temper. (And Mom died when Fred was very young, far too soon to do anything to counteract Dad’s influence) So Tiny Freddie learned to lie and suppress and play his part, and he played it so well that it couldn’t help become genuinely part of who he was (and, because children are children no matter what their parents are like, the praise he got when he finally lived up to his father’s standards warmed his little heart in a way he couldn’t control, even as he hated how much he had to hide), but through it all, he kept up his true self in secret,  as much as he could, scheming and planning and hoping for the day when he could leave home and leave his father’s ideals behind. And he got into college (he got his father to accept an engineering major with only minimal cold disdain by pointing out all the possible connections to construction) and started trying to shed all of his father’s influence...only to find that he couldn’t, entirely. If you ask him point-blank, he will say that he knows his father was wrong and he’s not ashamed of his true self or his true interests, but getting out from under a lifetime of abuse is never that easy. After 18 years of being glared at and derided and shouted at and hit every time he did something “Poindextery” or “girly” or “weak”, the inner voice that does the same is something he has to face down and banish almost constantly. And as I said, some of the All-American Boy affect has just become part of who he is. His healthiest self, when he can find it, is the best of both worlds, with the gregarity and leadership skills of the Golden Boy combined with true embrace of the artist and inventor he is.

Velma Dace Dinkley: Her home life during childhood was just fine. The trouble came when those pesky peers showed up. She was short, and serious, and academic, and plain, and wore big thick glasses, and so she did not get along easily with the other children. She took things seriously, so when they teased, she took that very seriously, and lashed out, which only ostracized her more. Eventually, she buried the rage the only way she could: under layer upon layer of academia, forced apathy, and prickly snark. But underneath that, she was lonely. She didn’t feel lovable, or wanted, and she was frustrated by her inability to fix whatever it was that was wrong with her. Not that she was willing to admit any of this to herself, except in the dark and still of her bedroom at midnight. Who knows just how isolated she might have become if she hadn’t fallen in with the Gang during high school. As it is, she’s cynical, has a hard time dealing with or admitting to her own emotions, and is extremely distrustful of overt kindness or friendliness (the Gang get a pass on this because she knows them well, but if a stranger starts being noticeably nice to her, out come the quills.) She is, however, scary-smart. Smart enough to get PhDs in English and History in the time it took Fred and Daphne to get their Bachelors. And sometimes, when she’s around friends and feels safe, that clever, biting wit can be used for good, instead of to push people away “before they have a chance to hurt her”.

Daphne Anne Blake: What you have to understand is that the Blake family is rich. Wildly rich. Unimaginably rich. No, richer than you’re picturing. No, double that amount. No, on second thought, square it. The other thing you have to understand is that they have been this rich for slightly longer than America has existed as a political entity. So growing up a Blake certainly comes with privileges that most children can only dream of, but it also has its drawbacks, chief among which is that you will never, for one second, be allowed to forget that you are A Blake. And such was Daphne’s childhood. Grace, deportment, beauty, all the skills of a lady, perfection. Never a hair out of place, never a stain on that dress, never a sour note, never an uncouth word or gesture, don’t frown, dear, it wrinkles your forehead, but don’t laugh to hard, it puts lines around your mouth, and don’t you dare fall off that horse. After high school, she went on to Harvard for a B.A. in Psychology, because it’s important for even girls to be properly educated. And it’s all left her a scant hop skip and a jump away from being a nervous wreck. She needs everyone to like her all the time, she needs to look perfect, she needs to be perfect. But at least on some level, she doesn’t want to need to be perfect. She wanted to be able to relax, wanted to let her hair down, wanted to find an identity outside of being A Blake. Lucky for her, she’s the youngest of a large co-ed brood, and her parents suddenly decided that it was chic to have a child who was being slightly rebellious. So as long as she doesn’t get her name in the papers in a negative way, or overspend her allocated trust fund (which would be an impressive feat), they’re perfectly happy to titter at parties about how their youngest daughter is off roaming the country with her strange little friends. As to her quest to find herself outside of her family, it has and hasn’t succeeded. She’s mostly managed to reject generational snobbery and extend her gracious manners to one and all, but sometimes without thinking about it (or sometimes on purpose when they need it for a case) she slips into The Manner Born. And it’s been a long hard process puzzling out how much of the infinite lessons she can keep and use for good, and which she must discard. (For example, she’s certainly in no hurry to abandon her taste for the finer things in life, and if you’re going to make a life out of chasing down criminals, there are worse things than being a trained fencer.) No matter what she does, she’s always going to be a lady. She just hopes to become a true gentlewoman, rather than the paradoxical people-pleasing snob her parents were raising. Her biggest progress has come in the form of letting go of any residual feelings of superiority, and becoming less and less afraid to have and state her own thoughts and opinions, no matter who does and doesn’t agree with them. She’s working on that. Slowly.

Relationships

So, like I said, the endgame here is a full-on, everybody x everybody else poly situation. But even though they (eventually) think of themselves as a foursome, with no one pairing getting any precedence but rather the four of them being a group, it is true that within that group, there are six pairs, and each individual pair is strong enough that (if I may be morbid) if any two of them died, the remaining two would stay together. So here is a summary of each of the pairs.

Fred/Daphne: Ah, the classic pair. It’s a cliché, perhaps, but they really do have plenty to bond over.They both struggle with the weight of parental expectations, they both have a flair for personal style, and heaven knows they look good together. They spend a lot of time talking to each other and helping each other with the problems that come from their parents’ respective demands, but they also have a lot of fun enjoying together the more “preppy” things that Shaggy and Velma don’t like so much.

Shaggy/Velma: The other cliché, mostly a result of pairing the spares. However, it has its legitimate reasons to exist as well. Their senses of humor complement each other; Shaggy’s more overt clowning works well with Velma’s snark. As the two more “alternative” members of the gang, they also make sense as a couple in public. Shaggy’s earnestness, empathy and sillieness can help get past Velma’s shell, and her no-nonsense practicality can often help to calm his nerves.

Daphne/Velma: The third most popular pairing (or possibly even the second, however much I might want to kid myself about the ubiquity of my childhood OTP). On some level, Velma may be put off by (and might also envy) Daphne’s beauty and grace, but she can’t help but also be drawn to it, and be constantly delighted to find the intelligence underneath. Daphne, for her part, loves Velma for her intelligence, and is amazed by her forthrightness and assertiveness. In addition, Daphne has decided that Velma’s low estimation of her own desirability is unacceptable, and has taken it upon herself to shower her with all the attention she should have been getting all these years. She’s been put on enough pedestals of her own to know how to construct one for someone else, and has thrown herself wholeheartedly into singing “Dulcinea” under Velma’s metaphorical window. Velma’s reaction to this is...complex (which is to say, she would like to just let herself enjoy it, but can’t entirely shut off her reflexive cynicism).

Fred/Shaggy: They don’t always talk very much, but that’s okay. They enjoy the quiet. Shaggy appreciates having a leader-type around, and Fred takes comfort in Shaggy’s utterly accepting nature.

Fred/Velma: In some ways, they can get competitive, but it’s never vitriolic. It’s just that she’s never been one to hide her light under a bushel, and Fred’s reaction to how impressed he is with her is to want to impress her by trying to match up to her, and she respects him enough to not talk down to him or slow up so he can catch up, and so it spirals. She shows more and more skill at investigating and figuring out who the culprit is; he refines his plans and traps more and more. That’s why it so often seems ambiguous whether Fred or Velma is the leader; they’re sparring over the title.

Daphne/Shaggy: Well, he can’t help but be a little awed that such an obvious princess is into a guy like him. And he’s so unlike the boys shes used to that she can’t get enough of him. Their differences only make them stronger. And with her Psychology degree, she may be the one most equipped to actually help him with his symptoms. No, she’s not a therapist, but at least she knows the technical terms for what’s happening, and may have a list of possible treatments. And she revels in how few expectations he has.

@scoobydooservicedog You’re getting tagged because part of this relates to what you do (and because you seem cool and I kinda want to know what you think) 

[hiro-gari]

[Part 1] If you like emotional idea for oneshot, I have one about Wings AU for Metal Bat: What if blackened feathers on the wings representing bottled-up emotions? Despite his hot-headed and outspoken personality, Badd still has alot of black feathers on his white wings because of the burden as a hero, a big brother, and a single guardian for Zenko, especially after the death of their parents. Garou on the opposite has none of it because he let his emotions out and has kinda 'idgaf' personality.

[Part 2] After they're together and getting comfortable with eachother, Badd's wings little-by-little become pure white again like him in the past as he slowly but surely opened up about himself to Garou.. 💖 You can make it as emotional as possible, hurt/comfort is OK too! 😉👌✨ I apologized if it's not so good and for making it Batarou-hinted again I'm so sorry 😅💦 Thank you for always listening to my random asks, hope you have lots of good days in new year! 😊👍💕💖💝🌸🌻

I’m soso sorry I have no excuse for taking so long to write this 😅 I hope it is worth the wait

Understandings

Garou/Metal Bat Wings! AU oneshot

Hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, violence, death mentions

Badd’s eyes snapped open as the hush of the train was interrupted by a voice resounding from the intercom, declaring their upcoming stop.

Gazing out the window, he barely caught sight of a decorative sign as it flashed by-

WELCOME TO K CITY

The other passengers started to stir as well, some glancing in his direction. A young boy stared at him fixedly. Badd tried to smile genuinely and gave him a small wave. The kid’s eyes widened and he nudged the woman in the seat beside him and pointed towards Badd. She turned in his direction, her brow furrowing when she caught sight of him.

He slowly slumped further into his seat and looked back out the window, regretting his decision to take public transit.

The Hero Association had not-so-subtly requested that heroes “refrain from excessive public interaction unrelated to your heroic duties” in the weeks following the defeat of the Monster Association. Though they were victorious, the media was still a storm of mixed views on the integrity and commitment of heroes after the blow they had been dealt. 

Badd rubbed his temple absently, trying to ignore the ache in his head that had been spreading since morning. Months ago, I’d have assumed that kid was a fan, probably would’ve offered to pose for a photo... He clicked on his phone to make himself look busy and stared at his lockscreen. It was an old picture of a much younger Zenko beaming, her ivory wings spread wide with glee as she cradled a scraggly tabby.

His phone screen went black again, and he sighed defeatedly at the sight of his own dejected reflection. The train slowed to a halt as it pulled into the station, and one by one everyone filed into the aisle. He tried not to notice the pure white wings on the backs of the passengers lined up in front of him as they walked out into the city.

Doesn’t mean shit. Anyone can go to a cosmetics store and get those white dyes. Even still, he glanced over his shoulder, anxiously checking to be sure he had every inch of jet black covered.

Nearly a year ago, the first gray patches had appeared.

Though the initial blow of his parents death was unbearable, he forced himself to find the strength to smile, excel at his hero duties, and maintain his cocky attitude.

But as the months went by, it seemed the more effort he gave into being a hero and a caretaker for Zenko, the more the dark stains would spread.

His phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket, slinging his bat over his shoulder casually. He froze as Zenko’s name above the all caps message sent a flash of anxiety through him, but it was quickly washed away by the picture she had attached. It was a rather blurred selfie, but she was smiling, posing with a slick brown creature pawing the glass behind her.

OTTERS ARE SO CUTE! I WANT ONE! she wrote.

Of course. Her class had taken a trip to the zoo for the day, and he’d seen her off with them before departing on his own. Badd had wanted to accompany her as a chaperone, but previous experience had taught him that his old school teachers had never quite forgiven him for being such a problematic student. He continued on, making his way in the direction of the dense forest, which framed the city’s entire eastern edge. The buildings and streets ended abruptly as he reached a wooden arch. The faded gray letters etched into the timber read

K CITY NATURE PARK

Beyond it was a stony path, forking in one direction toward an open area dotted with benches and gazebos, the other leading to a formidable wooden staircase. The top was barely visible from where Badd stood, and the wood creaked as he took the first step. He twirled his bat absently as he ascended, taking in the sounds and the overwhelming green that was notably absent for miles surrounding his home. When was the last time I’ve been to a place like this? Maybe I should bring Zenko sometime... The smell brought memories buried deep in his mind to the surface. He recalled how he’d raced up and down the steps, showing off for his parents as they made the climb with him.

“I don’t care about the way it looks! But keeping all those bad feelings hidden away, it’ll wear you down, big bro...”

Even though he tried to never let Zenko see his current state, it was impossible to completely keep it from her. He hated the idea of covering his wings, but her concern about him had become unbearably overwhelming. He just needed more time to fix things...

He turned back toward the path, which lead into an aged stone temple on the shore of a shimmering lake.

Badd was so overcome by the nostalgia of the view, he nearly overlooked the crouched figure on the roof, completely still, save for the ruffling of his feathers in the gaining wind.

He was crouched low, his snowy wings half unfolded defensively. 

His golden eyes narrowed as Badd instinctively gripped his bat in both hands, twisting his face in anger. The man rose slowly, never taking his eyes off him, and stepped over the ledge. His outstretched wings caught the wind and he landed silently.

The sound of the first, sparse droplets of rain hitting stone filled the stillness between them.

“You…” Badd growled through gritted teeth

“Metal Bat…”

His scowl gave way to a slight smirk, and he closed the distance between them in one fluid movement. He stopped just short of Badd’s reach, unflinching as Badd raised his bat menacingly.

“You look like shit.”

“Garou!” Badd yelled as he unleashed a fury of blows, hitting only raindrops as his opponent nimbly evaded each strike.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Badd hissed, reeling as Garou leapt behind him.

“You’re supposed to be back in that cesspool you patrol,” He lunged, catching the full force of Badd’s swing in his hand, stopping it midair. “I’ll do whatever I like.” Badd lost his footing as Garou effectively disarmed him. He was sent crashing to the ground before he could recover.

The sky seemed to open at once, releasing an unrelenting torrent of rain. Badd lifted himself, brushing aside the dark strands of hair that clung to his face, squinting through the storm. Garou’s taunting grin had vanished, replaced with a look of disbelief.

“Where’s that Fightin’ Spirit you got?” Garou tossed the bat aside with a clang. He arched a brow as he stepped closer, nearly towering over Badd. “What the hell is wrong with you,” he said darkly, lowering himself until his face was mere inches away from Badd’s.

“Damn you,” Badd cursed, pushing him back to an arm’s length. He unfolded his wet, heavy wings slowly. The downpour had washed away the white he’d covered them with, revealing the dense, black feathers that threatened to overtake him entirely. “Can't you see?”

Without hesitation, Garou half dragged him across the muddy pathway. He roughly shoved him into the dimly lit temple, staying forebodingly quiet. Badd thudded up against the dry stone wall, visibly shaking with chills. Even as his sight adjusted, Garou was hardly recognizable as he practically blended into the shadows of the temple. His eyes seemed to glow as he gave him an accusatory stare.

“You’re a hell of a mess.”

“No shit.”

Garou only scoffed in response.

“Shut up,” Badd said as he hung his head, his disheveled hair hanging low over his face, “you’re the last person I would want to see me like this.”

“But I do see. I see people like this every damn day, but never someone like you.” He paused, but Badd gave no reply.

Someone like me? he questioned silently.

“‘Spose that’s why you’re hiding it then…”

“Damn right that’s why,” Badd glared up at him, “Not ‘cause I give a shit what people think. Because a hero’s gotta be more than just physically strong. I’ve gotta be unwavering, someone that people can believe in…” Badd’s words trailed off quietly.

“God, you’re spouting nonsense too.” Despite his harsh words, the usual malice in his tone had faded. Garou took a step closer, but kept his distance. “Clearly you do give a shit what people think then-”

“I’m just doing what I have to!” Badd shouted over him, “So that I can be Metal Bat. So that I can be a hero Zenko can look up to, and someone who would’ve made my parents proud-”

“It’s killing you.” Garou’s flat tone echoed in the hollow room. Outside, the wind rose to a howling rage.

Badd stared dumbfounded, unable to muster the wit to reply.

“I don’t care what kinda hero you’re trying to be, you’re all the same to me. But if you keep goin’ the way you are, the only hero you’ll be is a dead one. You can’t save anyone if you can’t save yourself.” Badd flinched as Garou crouched in front of him, casually touching his forehead with the back of his hand in an unexpectedly gentle way.

He made a soft tch, hinted with disapproval, and seated himself squarely across from Badd.

“You’re feverish, and you sure as hell didn’t come ready to fight, so why are you here?”

“I thought… It would make me happy,” Badd mumbled, almost incoherently as his eyelids flickered.

“Oi!” Garou caught Badd by the shoulders as he slumped forward. “You don’t get to tap out now!”

Badd gave him a weak grin.

“Like hell I would.”

——————————

Badd came to slowly, blinking in confusion as he woke to a room he didn’t recognize.

An orange hue shone across the bare, white walls, emitting from the single window opposite of where he laid. He was sprawled out on a faded, woven couch, which appeared to be the sole piece of furniture in the empty room.

How the hell’d I get here?

He jerked toward the sound of a doorknob turning, followed by the screech of old door hinges. Garou appeared, pulling back his hood as he entered, disheveling his silvery hair in the process. His face tightened as Badd sat himself upright cautiously.

“You?” 

Garou paused in the middle of removing his jacket, making eye contact briefly before quickly averting his gaze.

“‘Bout time you woke up.” He hung his jacket on the doorknob casually.

Badd glanced around the tiny apartment, realization finally hitting him.

“You… you’ve been living here this whole time?”

“Didn't realize you were lookin’ for me. Figured all  you heroes wanted me gone just as much as I wanted to get away from you.”

“I wasn’t looking for you! And don’t lump me in with everyone else like that.”

“Sorry.” The apology in Garou’s voice sounded irritatingly sincere to Badd. He was studying a loose white feather a little too intently, twisting it between his fingers. “Guess your fever broke overnight then, you should just go-”

“Overnight?!”

Badd reached for his phone in a panic, leaping to his feet. Two alerts appeared as he clicked it on, frowning at the newly cracked screen,

43 missed calls

128 text messages

“Fuck,” Badd hissed.

Garou gave him a slight, toothy grin, amused at his flustered reaction. 

“Duty calls?”

“Shut up,” Badd hastily found his shoes beside the couch, “I was never here, got it?” He added sternly.

“Fine with me…” Badd noted the hint of distraction in his voice.

Garou’s gaze followed him closely as he crossed the room. His eyes widened slightly, as though fascinated.

Badd paused momentarily in the doorway, glancing backwards as if he was going to say something. Ultimately, he gave only a small wave before stepping out into the crisp air, leaving the door ajar in his haste.

Garou, without responding, watched Badd go. He stared in wonder at the receding, slate gray feathers that had replaced the jet black pattern marring his white wings.

After sitting in contemplative silence for a time, he turned and reached out to close the door. A bright flash of sunlight on metal caught his eye.

Leaning against the side of the building was Metal Bat’s signature, bright silver bat that he’d gone to retrieve that morning.

Garou smiled to himself.

“See you again soon, Badd.”

[lillaskiten]

Ok so fantasy high is definitely a new obsession because i even wrote fanfic about it. First time posting any of my writing so like, be gentle. anyway this happened because i think The Ball is a stupid nickname but the potential for drama is delicious. Also fabriz is good. The “The Ball” Thing Summary: Riz stands up for himself after it’s all over. Not everyone is thrilled. Important conversations get interjected with important shenanigans.

Despite everything, The Bad Kids were in good spirits when they stepped out of Principal Agueforts office. It had been a harrowing spring break. Between evil shadow clones, demons and beings of pure nightmare it was sure to leave its mark. Jawbone really had his work cut out for him. Adaine still wasn’t over dying for the first time. Fig also died for the first time. She’s good though.

But now they were back in Elmville, heroes once again despite multiple murders, thefts and property damages. It’s familiar and invigorating.

Gorgug took Zelda on a date as soon as they got back. It wasn’t gonna heal over night, but they were working it out. Fig planned an actual vacation for her and Gilear who, gods know how, actually made it back. Adaine, Kristen and Tracker held a celebratory welcome home party at Mordred manor to actually try to get acquainted with their new home. Riz and Fabian immediately met up with their respective mothers to barrage them with the tales of their adventure.

It was good. They were home.

Walking out of the school they couldn’t help but notice Riz walking especially upright. He smiled like he did when on the verge of a breakthrough. Stepping out into the school parking lot he stopped them with certainty that was almost certainly unfounded.

“I would like all of you to follow me to my office,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

“Uh, sure... Why?” Adaine was first to question.

“Please just come along, I happen to have an announcement!” the triumph in his voice was unmistakable.

“That you can’t tell us in the parking lot?” Kristen said.

“Of course not!” though everyone could see how he barely held whatever it was in. “It needs to be official.”

Well, it was Riz. Whatever it was it was probably important. They all shrugged and followed him down to the old office building. Wondering quietly, and in Fabian and Fig’s case; very loudly, what this announcement was about.

~

The office was cleaned and rearranged from the scuffle at the beginning of their adventure. The four who had been subjected to said scuffle walked in carefully. Fabian especially. He shuddered just thinking about nightmare-Riz.

Boggy croaked happily and Fabian felt a little better.

Real-life-Riz must’ve come here as soon as they got back. The space was impeccably clean and so clearly lived in at the same time. It looked like an IKEA display room for deranged detectives. The conspiracy board already had a new case starting to form on it and beside an old coffee cup on the desk lay the Nightmare King file, now with a big red CLOSED scribbled on top.

The Bad Kids tumbled in and filled the space in both spirit and person. At Riz’s indication they all got situated on the floor, each seemingly trying to out-weird the others in their sitting position. Well, Adaine sat prim and proper with boggy in her lap, silently confused over her friends antics. Riz stood, king of his castle, behind the desk. He filled them each a cup of black sludge that was almost coffee. Everyone but Kristen pulled a face when handed their cup.

“The Ball, will this put hair on my chest or make it fall out?” Fabian grimaced.

“Uhh, Both?” Riz waved him off. “But! That does bring me to my announcement…”

Everyone leaned forward in mild anticipation. Was it a new case? Whatever was happening on the conspiracy board? Was he and Sklonda moving? Was he an honorary detective? Was his father actually alive and in hiding and now needed their help on his most dangerous mission yet? (That last one was Figs suggestion.)

“I…” He took a deep breath.

“Wait is he like… coming out?” Kristen whispered to Adaine.

“Didn’t he already? And you think every announcement is someone coming out!” Adaine whispered back.

“Well, she’s right like 50% of the time you know?” Fig squeezed in and plopped a piece of popcorn in her mouth. at least it wasn’t a clove.

Riz paused.

“Did you bring snacks to my heartfelt moment of vulnerability?”

“Oh shit it’s gonna be heartfelt?” Fig exclaimed. “Dang, we are seriously unprepared.”

She quickly conjured a bowl of popcorn for the whole room. They descended on it like a pack of wolves.

After Adaine had broken up the coming fight and divvied the popcorn so that everyone got exactly as many as they wanted in comparison to the others (with any excess given to Boggy) Riz stood there with popcorn in his hand and a little less triumph in his voice.

“So what I was trying to say was…” He paused and looked around the room for any possible interjection. Fig looked like she still had something on her mind but a look shot her down. He coughed and tried to regain that triumphant feeling he’d been carrying all day.

This was his moment. Time to bring his character development to a head!

Boggy croaked happily. Yes, he could absolutely do this!

“I hereby relinquish my status as The Ball,” He said with grandeur, looking each of his friends in the eyes (or eye in Fabians case). “I formerly ask you all to stop calling me by that name.”

“Of course,” Gorgug and Kristen said in unison.

“That’s it?” Adaine said.

“Oh I never really liked The Ball either,” Fig said, chewing popcorn.

“WHAT?” Fabian was aghast. He had stood up and slammed his hands on the desk. “But. You. Are. The Ball.”

“Yeah well I never actually liked that nickname,” Riz said. He looked at the others behind Fabian. “I thought now, with all we’ve been through, I could tell you and still keep you as friends.”

“Of course you’re still our friend, you really thought something like that could get rid of us?” Adaine smiled softly like only she does. “It’s a stupid name anyway, the only one who actually cares is Fabian and maybe Ragh.”

“We should tell Ragh right?” Gorgug said, already on his chrystal. “I’m gonna tell Ragh.”

“Hey shh! I think we’re getting to the good part!” Fig elbowed him, pointing out Fabians red face. Then she shoved a fistful of popcorn into her mouth.

It seemed that Fig was conjuring more and more popcorn for every passing second.

Fabian was sputtering before he finally got the words out:

“But… but it’s our thing! We’re Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster and captain of the bloodrush team, and The Ball!” he gestured wildly at himelf, then at Riz, then himself again. “What? Is the captain of the bloodrush team supposed to be best friends with some… just… not The Ball?”

The rest of the Bad Kids had quieted down, all impressed at Riz for actually hearing Fabian call him his best friend without crying. It was the fifteenth time by the way. Not that they kept count.

“Can’t our thing just be that we’re... Riz and Fabian?” Riz answered. Mostly weirded out by this harsh response.

“NO!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Because… well…” Fabians mouth tried desperately to form any words to his own liking.

“What?”

And Fabian did something the others had barely ever seen before. He was quiet and thought out his next words.

For a while no one said a thing.

“Hey Fabian did Riz tell you he’s gay?” Kristen interjected into the silence.

“What?” (Fabian)

“WHAT!?” (Riz)

Riz threw daggers at her. Like a literal dagger. It struck the floorboards just short of her.

Boggy croaked happily and her heartrate lowered.

Adaine turned and elbowed her.

“What did we say about outing people for drama, Kristen?” she hissed.

“Even though it is fun it’s still very uncool,” she sighed. “But you know, this is a safe space. And like, I have a plan.”

Adaine rolled her eyes and held Boggy closer. Kristen was lovely but sometimes her impulsiveness really got the better of her. By the desk Fabian was staring at Riz, then back at Kristen, then back at Riz.

“You told Kristen but not me?” he looked actually, genuinely hurt. Which for Fabian still looked a tad like an overreaction.

He could see Riz look away. Everyone else turned awkwardly and drank their almost-coffee. The only one who seemed somewhat comfortable was Gorgug.

“Oh, uh… He told all of us actually,” Gorgug said, thinking he helped clarify the situation.

Four sets of eyes turned to glare at him with various levels of “stop talking.”

“Oh don’t you remember?” he pointed at Kristen. “You me and Adaine were talking about Asexuality, and then Fig came in and you” he pointed at Riz, whose ears were turning red under the green skin, “told us, just super casually, that you were gay and then told us to… to not… tell… uh… uh…… Traacker?” He realized his mistake too late.

Everyone looked at Fabian in horror.

“While I don’t really get why you wouldn’t want Tracker to know,” Thankfully Fabian was still thick when it counted. “I’m still hurt you didn’t tell me, I’m your Best Friend!”

“Well to be completely fair” Riz said. “I told Ragh before I told anyone here.”

Fabian looked almost as wounded as Kristen.

“He is actually very sensitive.”

Fabian looked around the room. A place of traitors. Even Ragh was a traitor and he wasn’t even here.  He didn’t feel so bad about not wanting to stop calling The Ball “The Ball” though. That was nothing important compared to this revelation.

“I’m sensitive, The Ball…” Fabian smiled. “I’m the most sensitive.”

“Ok…” Riz fixed him with a glare. “Then be sensitive to my feelings and call me Riz! It’s not that hard, you’ve done it before.”

“Well, not intentionally! And… just… you know what!” He turned dramatically. “Kristen, WHY did you decide to out my Best Friend in the middle of this, frankly inconsequential, conversation?”

Kristen almost choked on the coffee.

“Mm… You see it’s all part of my Master Plan!” She had a smug smile plastered on her face. “Our adventure is done, over, and through it, all of us have sort of grown and had revelations and just MAJOR character development. Just look at Riz! He realized he was gay and got comfortable enough to stop chasing our approval all the time…”

“I didn’t chase after your app-“

“You did.” Kristen said matter of factly. “Now he’s finally decided he’s not The Ball, he’s an adult! A man! and it’s not just him. I’m secure in Yes? now, Adaine is stepping into her role as the elven oracle and like everyone has had a sexuality and gender chat with me except you. And I want to have one really bad because I think there’s a lot that might be going on here.”

Fig paused her popcorn massacre to play the bassline for Fig and the Sig Figs newest hit “F*ck The Man And Also Being A Man Or A Woman”. It was massively popular.

“And with you…” Kristen hesitated. “Well basically you just got rejected by Aelwynn and after that got progressively sadder?”

“Wait, so your master plan is to get Fabian to talk about his feelings?” Adaine raised an eyebrow.

Kristen shrugged.

“OK!” Fabian decided to put a stop to this. “Why is THAT something we’re working through? Right. Now?”

“Because I am so sure it has something to do with the The Ball thing,” Kristen said, looking a little too excited.

“Ok, oookay,” Fabian said again. “There is no ‘ The Ball thing’.”

Which made everyone around murmur that Yes, there was clearly a “The Ball thing” and it was very weird. Fabian looked around for any ally in the room.

Boggy croaked happily.

“Why do you insist on calling me The Ball, Fabian?” Riz was done playing games. He stared down Fabian who almost shrunk under the force of it.

Fig shoved in another fistful of popcorn.

“Well maybe…” Fabian said, mentally unhinging his jaw to let it say whatever it was going to say. “Maybe it’s true that it’s our thing! And maybe I like that, and thought you liked it too. Maybe it represents our friendship? Maybe it feels like you’re taking away our whole dynamic, you know? Maybe… Maybe I can’t handle Riz?... Maybe Riz is just too close?”

Riz stood dumfounded. Everyone else shoved more popcorn in their mouths.

“Maybe I love you Riz!” He concluded, like he just figured it out himself. “Maybe I’m in love with you, maybe that’s it.”

There was a painful few seconds when Riz just stood quiet. Fabian stood still. A man who was unarmed and naked against a man with every knife sharper than his last.

Then Riz leaned in and kissed him. A quick peck on the lips while their audience erupted into giggles and celebratory shouts.

“Fabian,” Riz looked into his eyes and laughed. “I cry when you call me your best friend. Of course I’m in love with you! I’ve had a weird, sad crush on you since freshman year!”

“I can’t believe not one of the Bad Kids is cishet!” Kristen laughed. Then she shouted: “IS THIS WHAT TRUE BELONGING FEELS LIKE?”

Boggy croaked happily.

Adaine patted Riz on the back while Gorgug quietly started giving Fabian tips for their first date (which, of course, everyone else was going to hijack). Fig was already writing up lyrics for a song about them. Was “The Pirates Ball” a good title? She’d have to workshop it. Kristen felt like it was only right to commemorate this LGBT miracle by once again kissing every other Bad Kid on the mouth.

“Ok that’s it! Out! Everyone out!” Fabian started shoving the rest of them towards the door. Kristen first.

“Hey what gives this is great news!” Fig protested. “Also I’m gonna need the whole story of pining and realization and stuff to make this song really POP!”

“Nope, you’re going out!” He dragged her out by the bass.

“But whyyyy?” Fig groaned while holding on to the doorframe.

Fabian smiled like he hadn’t in weeks.

“I’m gonna get my kisses in.”

[ohnohetaliasues]

Stones to Abbigale {Ch.2}

 (Kat)

I actively want to die.

This book is making me suffer.

It’s terrible and I hate it.

Okay, here’s chapter two.

Also, I’m going to start new paragraphs whenever someone speaks because I find reading it without that formatting insufferable.

The following morning Mr. Hanson approached me in the hall before class started.

Wait, who is this again? The history teacher?

I actually forgot he existed.

"We're supposed to talk," he said in his usual stern voice.

I responded, "I know, but what about?"

He began gesturing with his hands as he often did, I guess it was a habit he developed to trick people into believing he was saying something interesting.

Or he just talks with his hands.

Like me.

"You know you're a smart kid, but you keep showing up late to my classes and it's becoming a problem" he said.

Surprised he showed genuine interest; I replied with a smirk, "I'll do better in the future."

He continued "Alright, well, I also wanted to ask you about a TA opportunity."

I replied, "You don't have a teacher's assistant?"

I’ve never heard of a high school student becoming a TA, but maybe it’s just not a thing at my high school.

I watched a bead of sweat fall down his balding forehead as he responded.

"The last TA moved, and yeah, you're not always on time, but you get your work done honestly and efficiently."

I asked, "Ok Mr. Hanson, next semester?"

He authoritatively replied "No, you can just take an elective class credit and I'll let your current teacher know you'll be working with me from here on."

I crave death.

I immediately thought of the possibility of losing art class and rejected the idea.

"My only elective is art class right now and I don't want to give that up" I said.

He took a step back looking offended and lost his temper, in a disgruntled tone he said "Art? Art class is a joke James! Tell me one person you know who is making a living painting pictures!"

Um.

There are many famous painters alive today who are rich.

Jeff Koons, Gerhard Richter. The list goes on.

All the students nearby in the hall stopped and looked towards the shouting. I looked at Mr. Hanson unaffected, reminding him I would not give it up. I wasn't about to sacrifice the one class I had with Abbi for alone time with a sweaty, anger-prone history teacher.

What-

Why do adults in this book act like petty children?

Mr. Hanson looked at everyone stopped in the hall and screamed "Oh ha ha, everyone look at Mr. Hanson he's such a goof, move along kids!"

Everyone just looked at him as he turned back to me, maintaining his clearly frustrated posture. He then waddled into his classroom to begin class.

My eyes are glazing over.

I reluctantly entered with the remaining students to sit at my desk, which was conveniently placed within broomstick range from Mr. Hanson's desk.

‘Broomstick range’ is now a system of measurement, apparently.

After enduring another useless history lesson revolving around my home state of Washington it was finally time for art class.

What a surprise, that’s also Onion’s home state.

I walked as fast as I could without looking too awkward, in my normal fashion, only to find Abbi wasn't even in the room. I sat down in my new seat and waited, only to see everyone but her fill the room.

Die mad about it.

Mrs. Stanley closed the door to our class trailer and instructed us to begin dismembering the possessions we brought from home. I began cutting the bear with a scalpel Mrs. Stanley provided me

No.

No.

Just no.

Scalpel?

Is your art teacher insane?

but my muscles seemed to work on their own as I found myself consumed with Abbi again, her overwhelming presence on the edge of every thought fragment in my mind. Just a short while into class I found myself looking down at my bear, now cut into 6 pieces. I felt like I was in a science lab dissecting an actual animal, the most noticeable difference being that the cotton stuffing didn't look like or stink of old flesh and death like real animals did.

I don��t know whether to cry, scream, or laugh about this.

Later that day during lunch, due to my mom not being able to afford buying me a cell phone, I used a payphone to call Abbi but got no answer. I didn't feel like eating so the rest of lunch I just sat on a bench outside staring at people interacting with each other. I made a major effort to distract myself knowing that focusing on what could be was mostly a waste considering I was so powerless to influence any change at that point. Even just watching the bushes move around in the wind made more sense to me than letting worry consume me.

More of this pretentious bullshit.

Later that night after I had just finished my shower I placed the one cordless phone we had in my house next to my bed on my windowsill. I would have dialed her but I didn't want to call more than once a day for fear of wearing out my welcome.

Good idea.

That night, a few different calls came in but they were always for my sister Lisa. Her receiving a barrage of phone calls from random guys was nothing new to anyone in the house.

The normal conversation you could expect to hear Lisa take part in, with excessive projection in her voice, would most always revolve around how stupid she thought other girls at school were and how she hates basically everything about Lakewood High.

I mean, who doesn’t hate high school? It kind of sucks.

I didn't want to know what she was talking about, ever,

Even if you just said what she was talking about.

but my TV volume couldn't compete with her voice. It was like she thought she was so important, everyone around her just had to hear everything she had to say no matter how trivial the topic. After a couple hours she finally stopped running her mouth so I turned off my TV and with it my room faded to darkness. I welcomed the silence like a warm blanket on a cold night.

I hate that simile.

I woke up the next morning to see the phone sitting there just like my stupid alarm clock, useless and unbearably annoying to look at. I expected it to sound off at some point but like the clock it failed to deliver.

If the alarm clock is broken, get a new one or throw that one away, or maybe fix it. There are many ways to fix your problem.

It was raining outside; clouds filled the sky in normal Lakewood fashion. I wasn't going to skate to school this time out of fear it would rust my skates and hinder my ability to skate fast if even at all.

If you briefly skate in the rain, it won’t do anything to your skates. That’s just how that works.

Instead I decided to ride the bus, pretending for only moments I really had a choice.

As I climbed up the bus steps, Davis rang out "Hallelujah, James is here to save everyone from the evil clouds!"

I genuinely smiled for the first time that morning thanks to him. As usual I sat next to the window seat that Davis courteously always offered me.

This book just has a way of making me want to die.

The beginning of history class was the same old story. As usual I barely paid attention. I just thought about Abbi and hoped she was ok.

Okay, the way this is written makes it seem like James only has history class and then art and that’s it and then school is over. That seems to be it.

And that bothers me.

Interrupting my thoughts of Abbi came a very rude outburst by Jason. It was odd to hear his voice, as I wasn't supposed to see him till art class. He stood outside our closed class door waving his hands in hopes of disrupting us.

Is he just standing there screaming outside the classroom door? That’s fucking stupid. There is no logical or comedic reason for him to do that.

It was clearly for no real reason more meaningful than a toddler would have in invok- ing chaos around their immediate environment. Some people just want to get an emotional reaction to their behavior so they can feel a sense of power or control.

So he cuts class to scream outside a classroom door?

Have fun in detention, dipshit.

Jason began banging on the door so Mr. Hanson walked over and opened the door and asked "Why aren't you in your class?"

Jason responded saying, "Got kicked out, what's up?"

Okay, so because of that bullshit, I believe Mr. Hanson should have the option to fucking destroy you.

"Go stand outside your class till it's over" Mr. Hanson commanded, Jason rebelliously replied, "Don't tell me what to do fatty."

Okay, so I’m mad about how Onion connected these two pieces of dialogue when he shouldn’t have, but I’m also mad at this fucking 3rd grade insult.

To a teacher.

I could see Mr. Hanson was about to lose it, so I interrupted. "No one wants you here Jason."

Rude but yes, James is right. Fuck right off.

Mr. Hanson looked back at me with a look of surprise. He seemed shock I would say anything on his behalf. Jason became extremely silent, now refusing to look anywhere but at me.

That’s... Alarming imagery.

His glare was intense but it seemed so forced, like he wasn't really offended but didn't want to look weak in front of everyone else.

I cannot imagine that in a way that invokes tension.

Mr. Hanson then closed the door inches away from Jason's nose but that didn't stop him from staring intensely through the vertical window slot in the door.

This literally sounds like a scene from The Office. It sounds like somethig Dwight Schrute would do.

He remained so still and consistent in his stare, it was almost as if he had become a red-faced almost cartoonish portrait hanging on the door.

Literally sounds like Dwight. I’m laughing my ass off.

As class came closer to an end Jason was no longer staring at me and wasn't even visible from my perspective. Knowing Jason had something left to prove, many of the students naturally assumed he was somewhere within the immediate vicinity. I could tell most everyone was concerned as they kept looking back at me, wondering what I was going to do about the clearly unstable and enraged jock that no doubt was still lurking just outside our door.

I can’t-

Is he a caricature? Of a fucking stereotypical jock?

Every kid in there knew I couldn't just hide out in the class. I was sure this was some kind of victory for Mr. Hanson. He knew I wouldn't have this immediate problem had I accepted his offer to TA for him.

It’s petty and stupid not to stop a potential fight between students because you’re mad at one of the students. Why is this asshole acting like a child?

Oh.

Right.

Because Onion regularly acts like a child.

My decisions led me to this; I built a doorway to certain destruction and I knew if I was going to be brave, I had to walk through it.

I don’t care.

Get the shit beat out of you.

You’re annoying.

I didn't have time to deal with hesitating once class was over, seeing Abbi was my real priority. I walked out with the class just like I normally did only this time Jason was following close behind, as I'm sure most everyone assumed he would. I was about to leave the main building to head over to the art trailer only to feel a hand grab my shoulder. The hand slipped as I pulled away, nails scraping along my skin to clamp on my shirt. I was then yanked swiftly back from the main hall door. It began.

I’ve written fight scenes before. This has no buildup like a fight scene should have.

I yanked my shirt aggressively out of his hand and clutched my now scratched up shoulder. I was now facing Jason who immediately lunged at me and threw me into the already half-broken hall door just behind me.

What door? Where is this fight taking place? in front of the school? Where is the main hall?

I’m very confused.

I bounced back from the impact and pushed Jason in the center of his chest to distance him from me so I could continue walking away. Without hesitation he used my response to justify further violence and began throwing punches. I was knocked to the ground within seconds and he began trying to pull off my backpack resulting in me being briefly dragged across the floor like a helpless child.

This... This is very very hard to picture as an actual series of events.

This is not how fight scenes work or how they should be written.

I was now a couple yards away from the door I was trying to leave through.

Oh, so this is inside. I pictured it outside because I wasn’t told that wasn’t where it was.

I twisted away to return to a standing position while simultaneously snatching my backpack back so hard that it flew out my hands and smacked the door behind me, leaving a huge crack in the glass. I could hear glass falling off the door behind me.

????

I cannot picture this happening it’s so strangely written.

People began to gather around us, and like a chemical reaction they began screaming just as they did before. Much of what was happening was a blur, but I remember they would scream every time Jason hit me throughout the irrefutably one-way fight. It quickly got to the point where I didn't even feel the punches, I could only hear them laughing and yelling as Jason swung again and again.

Has Onion only ever seen shitty high school movies? Because nobody acts like this.

I kept falling over and over but every time I would return to stand only to fail at defending myself from further blows. I didn't block a single hit; I didn't even throw one punch at him.

As my nose began to bleed one of the boys my sister was friends with, Matthew, grabbed me and pulled me out of the fight. He was twice my size but was also on Jason's football team so naturally he did nothing to help me win.

Bro he saved you from being punched repeatedly.

The only thing he offered me was an end to the beating I was suffering.

And that’s fine. Because Matthew is stopping the fight instead of continuing it. Which is the good thing to do.

Shortly after the fight ended I found myself sitting on a mattress in the nurses' office, not allowed to leave, not allowed to do anything but think about what happened.

I’d maybe take him to the hospital.

Despite everything in my head feeling scrambled and disorganized, there was Abbi, waiting in the same place, just as she sat in the back of class. She radiated warmly in the back of my mind.

Awesome.

As lunch approached Principal Leeman came into the room I was staying in at the nurses' office and asked me how I was feeling.

Why on earth did the principal come and check on him?

That’s bizarre.

I responded "Well, my tooth is chipped, my chin hurts, my face is bruised and I just got humiliated in front of my peers."

And you know your tooth is chipped without actually checking.

Fun.

Mr. Leeman said, "I've gotten multiple statements saying you pushed him. What's your response?"

James was literally attacked. It was not his fault. I will admit that, even if I hate him.

I replied "I pushed him back after he pushed me first. All I did was push him back once and then he did this to my face." I made a circular motion around my face showing how one-sided the fight way.

That bit of dialogue and the following description didn’t make any fucking sense.

Principal Leeman said in a commanding voice "Well he's suspended for 10 days," he paused and I felt relief assuming the Principal was on my side, but then he continued, "You will be suspended for 2 days."

The bitch didn’t fight back, but sure okay.

I was surprised they would suspend someone for just pushing back when they are pushed. What was I supposed to do? Just ignore being assaulted?

Valid point.

If school is meant to teach us how to survive in the real world, and in the real world you are legally allowed to defend yourself, how could they justify this punishment?

Never mind, shut the fuck up.

Principal Leeman informed me I could finish up the day and not return for the following two days.

I would assume James needs to go home or to the dentist due to his chipped tooth.

"You should be at least grateful for that, Jason was escorted off school grounds entirely," he said.

Principal Leeman stared at me sitting there, helpless and about to break down.

"Ok then, see you again in a few days" he said and quickly walked out.

All I could focus on feeling in that moment was the tacky ice pack on my face and a sinking feeling of worthlessness. It's not something I like to admit but the truth is I cried seconds after Principal Leeman left the room.

I mean, I would too.

The type of cry you suppress but your eyes still get become red, your body trembles & painfully hot tears still fall. It was the type of sadness that made a person ache to their core but you do your best to hold on, to not lose yourself to your emotions like you would so carelessly do as a child.

 I have read descriptions of trying not to cry before, and this feels like a strange hollow replica of the things I read. I’ve written someone trying not to cry before.

While this does evoke some emotion, it’s very on the surface and not deep enough to make me feel anything heavy.

And it isn’t childish to cry, it’s human, so shut the fuck up, Onion.

I sat in the room alone till I could collect myself. Shortly after I gathered my stuff and proceeded to finishing my classes for the day.

There needs to be a comma after ‘shortly after’ or this reads like an incomplete sentence.

I also asked a couple of my teachers about any work I would miss so I could keep up while I was suspended but didn't have the motivation to stop by every single class before leaving the school entirely.

Have fun with the surprise homework you’ll have.

As I was about to get on the bus home I looked over to see Abbi again in the parking lot with her boyfriend Seth. They were standing by his car. This time they were not showing affection, in fact she seemed like she wasn't even willing to look at him despite him clearly and aggressively speaking to her.

Oh wonderful.

Abuse.

Don’t get me wrong, abuse is terrible and I hope from the bottom of my heart that if any of you are victims of abuse that you get the help you need, but this.

This seems cliché.

Without a second's thought I shifted away from the bus and began walking over to Abbi to see if she was ok. The more I could hear Seth's tone as I approached the more worried I became.

Okay, that’s a rational thing to do.

Seth reacted to me like a guard dog in a ghetto-fenced yard once he realized I was headed towards him.

That’s a little extreme.

He puffed out his shoulders and glared at me in attempts to look intimidating.

How does someone puff out their shoulders? Explain that to me.

Abbi remained upset, it seemed like she was emotionally unable to look any- where but the ground.

Do you mean physically? You can’t use your emotions to move your body. That’s just not a thing that exists. Sorry, Onion.

Now within a fair speaking range, I tried to sound optimistic for the sake of Abbi's emotional state, "Hey Abbi, were you at art class today?"

In.* In art class, I think you mean.

I asked.

Her boyfriend stepped in front of her to block my view and said, "Are you the kid that called her the other night?"

I responded, "Yeah, we're..."

"Just ignore him James" Abbi said mumbled loudly behind Seth.

Seth looked back as if an arrow had just been plunged into his chest.

So... He looked like he’d been shot?

Excuse me, the fuck?

Abbi then walked around him looking only at me and said, "Will you walk me..." but paused when she saw my face.

Abbi's facial expression changed quickly to shock as she asked in an alarmed tone "...what happened?"

Her boyfriend busted out laughing, "Oh, you didn't see this idiot get wrecked by Jason? He didn't even fight back. I would've had that jock prick choking in his own blood in seconds but you just took a beating like a..."

It’s like this guy looked at the viewer and said ‘I’m an asshole and you’re not supposed to like me.’

Abbi interrupted screaming, "Shut up Seth! You sadistic freak!"

Seth's grin turned into a scowl. He rapidly stepped towards her so I blocked his path by stepping in front of him. Seth looked more mortified than I had ever seen a person get. In such a short time knowing him I could see he had a number of mental and emotional issues, more so than I understood.

You just know this?

Again, why is James written like this? In a way that seems like he has psychic powers?

Seth didn't even try to get past me to Abbi; he let his voice reach her with his screams "You have no respect! After what I've done for you?"

Abbi replied, "I'm sick of this Seth, I want nothing to do with you."

Her voice cracked as Seth screamed once more. "If you're ending this again! I..."

He didn't know what to say, but in his eyes I could see a deep intense hatred. When I looked in most people's eyes I saw all kinds of things but in him there was only anger and pain. His hands were shaking furiously, his breathing noticeably irregular, he was losing it.

This is like a lizard person trying to describe how an angry person looks. It doesn’t make sense and it is mechanical.

Abbi still refused to look at Seth as he threw his tantrum. He yelled "Fine! Be with a guy who can't even protect himself! Idiot!"

Fine, be with someone who clearly isn’t abusive who you’ve talked to twice.

Seth got into his car as Abbi tightly grabbed my arm; her eyes remained closed like she was scared, hiding in a shell. She jumped at the sound of Seth slamming his car door.

Yikes.

Recklessly, Seth floored the gas pedal and his car lurched forward, barely missing Abbi and me as he pulled out of the parking lot.

I can’t even.

Abbi stood silently by with her eyes still closed. I didn't know how to act in a situation like this.

Trying not to make things worse I just said, "I will walk you home, to answer your question."

Abbi opened her eyes but remained silent. She nodded.

I am running out of gifs to express how annoyed I am.

We had been walking for a while, every step making us feel like we were slightly further from our problems.

She finally spoke, "So I was in Art Class and I saw your cut up bear."

I responded, "Yeah? Creepy right? Maybe it was a FUBAR idea." She laughed a little.

I forgot that he cut up the bear yesterday and not the same day this is taking place because Onion sucks ass at transitions and I actually forgot that there was a transition because it was forgettable.

"Yeah, I guess we're both kind of weird, I was all game for it." I softly laughed as I began to feel raindrops hitting my arms and neck.

"I hear running is just as bad as walking in the rain" I said.

"You get just as wet?" She replied.

"Yeah, something like that. It's like the harder you try to fix some problems, the worse they get."

I made a face similar to this gif in response to this nonsense.

I impulsively asked to confirm what I had earlier seen

"So your... Seth... is..."

She interrupted "Hopefully soon completely out of my life."

My curiosity overtook me, I asked, "What happened?"

She frowned and said, "Other than what happened in the parking lot?"

I responded "Well, I mean, I donno, don't say anything you don't want to."

Dunno.*

She stared at her feet as we continued to walk. I noticed her makeup was running. Shortly after she noticed too and began to rush us getting home.

Walking faster she said, "I'm sorry, I really don't want you to see me like this."

She continued to rush slightly ahead of me, I stopped walking and said "Hey!"

She slowed down and stopped still facing away from me.

We stood in the rain for only a few seconds before she asked, "Do you think makeup really helps anyone?"

I replied still looking at her back, "I think it helps us forget what we don't want to remember, it let's us pretend we're a little more perfect than we really are."

She laughed sadly and said, "That's one way to put it."

I smiled and replied "Makeup is just makeup, and skin is just skin. It is what it is."

I’d rather knock myself unconscious than read this waxing poetic pretentious bullshit.

You aren’t Walt Whitman, Onion boy. Shut up.

Abbi looked up at the rain for a moment and then down at the ground again. She then turned around with her rain-soaked face revealing what she was hiding under her makeup. Standing before her in the rain, looking at the results of what she had suffered, it broke my heart. Abbi wasn't worried about her makeup running for the reason I thought, she was just afraid of what I would think when I saw the bruises on her face, some just like mine.

You being beat up by someone isn’t as bad as the prolonged abuse Abbi has apparently been suffering.

So shut your fucking mouth you whiny bitch.

"Do you see them?" she asked with a quiver in her voice.

Without restraint I responded with the first thing that came to my mind, "I see beautiful girl, who I very much enjoy walking with in the rain."

Despite her face being covered in falling drops of water, I could clearly see tears fall from her eyes.

Okay. You’ve spoken to her twice now.

While this is slightly sweet, both of these characters have given me no reason to like them or grow attached to them, so I really don’t care about this interaction.

Her head fell forward as she began to shake, her tears falling almost in sync with the rain.

Okay.

Um.

Just... Okay.

I walked up to her and put my arm around her side and walked with her the rest of the way home.

As we got to her doorstep I said "I'm just seven letters away, call if you need anything ok?"

She smiled and nodded.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked.

I replied, "I got suspended for two days".

She looked offended "Woooow! Punishing the guy who got beat up, classy!"

She looks offended? Why? James didn’t offend her.

Also, it bothers me so fucking much that Onion puts the dialogue bits after the ‘she said’ part of the sentence. That is not how you write. At all.

Fuck you.

I responded, "Yeah... well, I pushed him back."

She replied "Clearly not hard enough."

I laughed sadly looking down as she unexpectedly wrapped her arms around me.

Despite it being so cold out and her being soaked, it was the warmest hug I had ever received. I hugged her back, said goodbye and walked home with a huge smile on my face, bruises and all.

Hallelujah. Fuck both of you.

Okay, so there are many things wrong with this.

The formatting is absolutely fucked and the characters are actually so deeply bland and flavorless that I cannot bring myself to like them at all.

Also, it romanticizes abuse.

Which is disgusting.

Okay, I’m gonna get on chapter three because I apparently love suffering.

Ugh.

~Kat

[quantumpoint]

Broken Masks- Chapter 1: First Cracks

Synopsis: 

Midoriya Izuku was a strange kid. Shouta would be the first to tell people, the kid was reckless and made it his mission to break every bone in his body with the same intensity as his love of heroes. He mumbled more than he seemed to actually talk and when he did, Midoriya seemed to always want to say more, but never did. Overall, Shouta was fine with his strangeness, recklessness could be tamed provided good teaching and training. With Izuku, it would be easier than most. The kid was dedicated to a fault, he had a strong set of morals which made him first in most things that mattered; always the first to offer a hand, always the first to cheer on others, always the first to help. But there was something else that Shouta couldn't shake; something in the way Midoriya scanned a room before entering, the way his eyes seemed to dissect a stranger seconds after meeting them, and something about the way he always seemed seconds away from asking for help.

__________________________________

*Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25544242/chapters/61981285*  

___________________________________

Midoriya Izuku was a strange kid. Shouta would be the first to tell people, the kid was reckless and made it his mission to break every bone in his body with the same intensity as his love of heroes. He mumbled more than he seemed to actually talk and when he did, Midoriya seemed to always want to say more, but never did. But overall, Shouta was fine with his strangeness, recklessness could be tamed provided good teaching and training. With Izuku, it would be easier than most. The kid was dedicated to a fault, he had a strong set of morals which made him first in most things that mattered, always the first to offer a hand, always the first to cheer, always the first to help.

Inside the classroom, Midoriya was just as dedicated and little trouble. He was an excellent student eager to learn and a borderline obsessive note-taker. He asked questions that made his teachers run to Nedzu for help and wrote papers more in-depth than needed. 

Overall, Midoriya was a good kid, but none of that was what made him strange. Something about the way Midoriya scanned a room before fully entering, the way he jumped when someone moved too fast around him, or the way his round innocent eyes would suddenly sharpen when someone stepped too close. The skittishness, the need to find an escape was what made Shouta watch Midoriya a little more closely. This is why he noticed when Midoriya’s schoolwork began to slip when Midoriya seemed more focused on scanning the room then paying attention to his friends.

Normally incomplete or late assignments would slip his radar; after all, Mina and Kaminari liked to push their ability to put off their work, but with Midoriya it sent alarm bells in his head. The in-depth analysis Shouta enjoyed reading after the work of his other students no longer appeared barely reaching the requirements of the assignments. And with every passing day, Midoriya’s work seemed to get worse and worse as he seemed more concerned with looking out the window than class.

Despite the apparent lack of interest in school, Midoriya seemed more reluctant to leave school grounds. Multiple times Shouta would spot Midoriya in the library working on the little work he did do. There was something off about this, though. If anyone asked about home, about why he tried to stay late, Midoriya would grow restless and find an excuse to leave. Stress slithered around the boy like snakes and only seemed to tighten every day.

It all concerned Shouta, but it was Midoriya’s overall mood, no matter how wide the kid smiled it never seemed to reach his eyes anymore. Midoriya had a natural, excessively emotional side that constantly bordered on crying, but with each passing day, it seemed like he forgot that’s how he was meant to act. When Bakugou snapped at him, Midoriya would blink at him before slipping into his usual nervous nature.

Laying in his yellow sleeping bag, Shouta watched his class mingle before class completely unnoticed by his students. He was fine with that, it let him learn how his class interacted, let him know who he should push together in training, but overall, it let him catch little interaction his kids would rather he didn’t see. Like how Mina wandered around the room trying to answers for the English assignment due next period or how Tokoyami let Uraraka stick a flower in between his feathers, or the way Bakugou kept glancing back at Midoriya with an unreadable expression before looking away when someone looked at him.

Shouta wiggled around to get a better view of the strange behavior. Bakugou glanced back once Mina had moved to her next victim, his eyes following Midoriya’s expressive hand gestures very reminiscent of Iida. Shouta scowled and leaned forward to watch Midoriya as he used his whole body to talk to Iida and Todoroki.

There was nothing off about it, sure the three seemed closer after the Hosu incident, but the way Bakugou kept glaring at Midoriya made him keep watching. Todoroki laughed at Midoriya’s wild gestures and Iida took over, waving his arms similar to Midoriya. Midoriya smiled at his friends but paused to glance back at Bakugou almost like he knew he was being watched. Interesting.

The sharp gaze Midoriya gave Bakugou made the breath catch in Shouta’s thought. That wasn’t like Midoriya. Bakugou seemed unfazed by it and returned the glare before he glanced down to Midoriya’s hands. Shouta followed the gaze, barely catching the dark bruises on his wrist before Midoriya tugged his sleeve down. Nothing about that interaction was right, not even the sheepish smile Midoriya gave Bakugou before looking back at his friends.

Bakugou huffed and looked away, bristling. Shouta watched Midoriya whose smile seemed a little less genuine as he responded to Iida, his wild gestures more subdued than before, far more cautious to keep his sleeves from riding up.

With a sign and a promise to investigate after class, he stood and watched his class scatter to their desks. He cracked his neck and with a sigh, he started class.

________________________________ 

“Midoriya,” Aizawa snapped, making him jump and drop his pencil, “Do you find my lessons boring?”

“N-no, Sir,” Izuku replied, twitching with emotion. He kept his eyes locked on his teacher, too afraid to look at any of his classmates. They’re judging you. No there not, they’re my friends. But are they? Stop it. 

Aizawa scowled at him, his eyes searching for something before he looked back to the board. You’ve messed up. Stop. “Pay attention. If I catch you dozing off again…” He let the threat hang and Izuku held back a tired sigh as he bent down to grab his pencil.

A warm hand brushed against his wrist making him jerk back. You’re drawing attention to yourself. Angry red eyes glared at him and with an angry huff, Bakugou slapped his pencil on his desk. He waited for some sort of insult or curse and when it didn’t come, his mind began to insert it’s own.

Idiot. Stop. You’re weak. Stop. You’re wasting space for someone better. Stop!

Noticing Aizawa looking at him again, Izuku snatched his pencil and scribbled down the notes on the board. Make your notes. He grit his teeth and jotted down notes of his classmate to add to his notebooks later. 

It was difficult to stay focused, and as much as he tried, Izuku could not get his brain to settle for more than a few seconds at a time. School was what he looked forward to every day, yet he couldn’t even pay attention to it. Wasted space. Stop. You’re wasting this opportunity. Stop. Not even doing what you were meant to. Stop! If you spill. Stop. They’ll hate you. Stop. Attack you. Stop! 

Shaking his head, Izuku tried to focus on the board, trying to push back the intrusive thoughts. But the further he pushed, the more aggressively they pushed back. They’ll attack you. Stop. How will you get out? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Don’t think like that, you don’t need to think like that. They were his friends. But are they? Stop. 

The bell rang making him jump and drop his pencil again. He sighed, thankful for the thoughts to be gone. The class clambered out of their seats as the slow murmur of voices filled his mind as he tried not to think of anything. 

He stared blankly at his notes, trying to make sense of the words he’d written barely a minute ago. He couldn’t even remember writing them. 

He rose and moved to follow his friends out the door, but a familiar warm hand around his wrist held him back. You’re slipping. Izuku turned around to stare at Bakugou as the remaining class filtered out. 

“Did he get out?” Bakugou asked, looking far more concerned than he should. Slipping. Stop. He’s noticed you’re weak. Stop.

Izuku shook his head and Bakugou visibly relaxed, his grip loosening, but not letting him go. “Thank fucking God.”

Don’t tell anyone. Stop. Don’t give them power over you. Stop. He glanced away from Bakugou’s eyes. Too concerned. You don’t deserve that. Stop. “He wants to talk though,” Izuku whispered. Why’d you tell him! Stop it.

Bakugou kicked a chair letting it clatter to the ground before exploding, “You can’t be considering it! That fucker doesn’t deserve shit after what he did to you!”

“No,” Midoriya lied but couldn’t help but add on, “I don’t want to see him, but I can’t make the thoughts go away anymore.”

“Did you tell Inko?” Why was he worried? Stop. Did he notice something? Does he know something?

He nodded.

“Should the old hag stop in?”

“No!” Izuku snapped. Too loud, too fast. Stop. Your mask is slipping again. I know! “Sorry, sorry, she doesn’t have to. It’s fine, I’m handling it.”

There was a pause as Bakugou glared at Izuku’s exposed wrist. “Did she cause the bruises?”

“No,” Izuku whispered.

Bakugou huffed and finally, finally, let go. Quickly, Izuku tugged his sleeve down and tucked his hands behind his back, away from prying eyes. “Come on, nerd. Round face is going to be on my ass if we’re any later.”

Izuku nodded and let Bakugou lead him to the door, but before opening the door, he growled, “And put your fucking Deku mask back on, you’re fucking friends will get suspicious.”

He froze. He knows.  

“Of course I noticed, dumbass,” Bakugou glanced back at him, “You honestly think I didn’t notice the way you tore apart the bullies at our old school or the way you continuously made everyone target you?”

“I-i-i don’t know what y-your talking about,” Izuku mumbled.

Bakugou hummed, “Of course you don’t, Deku. The old hag wanted me to tell you to come by tonight since she heard Inko took a night shift. Apparently, she thinks we’re still friends.”

Izuku couldn’t stop a huff of laughter as he slipped past Bakugou into the hallway. “Thanks, but my mom’s boyfriend is staying over tonight.”

“Again?” Bakugou stopped walking, but Izuku pretended not to notice his eyes burning into his back as. “Don’t you think they’re moving a bit too fast?”

Izuku glanced back at Bakugou and gave him a small tired smile. “It’s not my place to say.” With that, he walked away, listening to Bakugou hurriedly fall into step behind him.

 _________________________________________ 

“Shooooota!” Hizashi shouted, slamming the door of the teacher’s lounge open, “You’re children are monsters!”

Shouta sighed, setting his pen to watch the display in front of him. “They’re not mine.”

“Yes they are,” Nemuri drawled, tossing a crumpled paper at him which he quickly caught, “You call them yours all the time, stop denying it.”

He forced himself not to sigh again and turned back to Hizashi. “What did they do now?”

Hizashi threw himself on the couch and draped himself over the edge. “Apparently, Bakugou threatened Midoriya after your class, but both refused to talk about it to their friends.”

“And?”

“And,” Hizashi said, sitting straight, “Bakugou decided to snap at Uraraka for asking about it before my class and, my God, Gunhead did that girl a world of good, but that does not give her the right to threaten to ‘throw hands’ at Bakugou.”

“Sounds rather tame,” Shouta said, preparing to go back to his paperwork, Nedzu was going to kill him if he was late with it.

“It would have been,” Hizashi stood and began to pace, throwing his hands in the air with every word, “But then Todoroki decided to get involved.” Oh shit. “And you know how those two are, I think my hair is scorched. You know what the worst part is, Iida didn’t even try to intervene!”

Shouta snorted just imaging Iida casually leaning back in his chair with his arms folded with a casual smirk as his friend ganged up on Bakugou.

“He just sat there and watched,” Hizashi continued with noticing Shouta’s outburst, “And, apparently, if Iida doesn’t step in, it means everyone can fight even though I made it very clear they couldn’t. Midoriya was the one to finally calm them down, but I swear that kid was seconds away from breaking his fingers to stop those two from burning down the school, and it took a lot of convincing to get Uraraku to let Kaminari off the ceiling.”

Nemuri snorted, “I would have loved to see that.”

“No, no, no,” Hizashi stormed up to her and stuck a finger in her face, “You can’t say that. It was hell. There was so much tension in my class after that. Everyone was just glaring at one another. I don’t even think anyone but Midoriya took any notes.”

Shouta hummed, finishing up the paper in front of him, “Sounds pretty normal.”

“Are you kidding?” He hummed again as Hizashi continued pacing. “How do you handle them? Like, all of them are insane. Even Midoriya seems weird, even though he was the only one trying to calm the situation.”

“Speaking of Midoriya,” Shouta mumbled, cutting Hizashi's tantrum off. With the silence as his hint to continue, he did, “Have either of you noticed anything different about Midoriya?”

“He has been breaking fewer bones as of late,” Nemuri joked, “but no, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Something’s off,” he said, “I overheard a conversation between him and Bakugou this morning.”

“Overheard?” Nemuri smirked, turning to stare at him, “Or eavesdropped?”

He coughed when Hizashi laughed and threw the crumpled paper back at Nerumi. “I can not tell you what I learned.” That shut them up. Shouta smirked and sighed, “I think there’s something going on with Izuku’s family life and Bakugou seems to be in the know.”

“Want to elaborate?”

“Not sure yet,” Shouta sighed and collected his papers before standing, “But I think he’s being abused or at least neglected. There are bruises on his wrists.”

Hizashi tapped his chin in thought, “Now that I think about it, the little listener did seem to tug on his sleeves a lot, but I didn’t see any bruises.”

“I don’t know much,” Shouta sighed, “but I’m going to go talk to Nedzu about this before classes are over to figure out how we should address this, but I would appreciate it if you two let me know if you notice anything.”

Nerumi hummed in response, nailing Shouta in the back of the head with the crumpled paper.

Hizashi groaned, “Shit, I forgot about the paperwork Nedzu wanted. Could you drag out your little talk so I have time to do it?” Shouta glared at him at the doorway thoroughly unimpressed and without a word he walked out, taking great pleasure in the indignant squawk that followed him out.

 ______________________________________ 

He was hovering. Izuku knew he would after this morning, but it didn’t mean he liked it. He could feel Katsuki staring all throughout training, hell, Bakugou let himself get kicked in the face because he was so focused on him. He knew Bakugou only meant well, but it didn’t keep his skin from crawling. The constant eyes watching him kept pulling him back to that time. Because you deserve it, stop! There were too many eyes on him. Just like at home. Stop!

He was only worried. He shouldn’t be. Izuku needed to calm down. But the longer Katsuki stared, the more people started to stare. He was good at faking, good at hiding behind his masks, but with so many cracks, he wasn’t sure if it could hold up.

While tugging off his boots, Kirishima was the one to bring it up. “Yo, Midoriya.”

Even though he knew he was behind him, knew he would talk, Izuku still jumped. Quickly standing to give Kirishima a wide grin, before glancing at the lockers behind him, “Sorry, am I in your way?” Good, evade. Stop. Let them believe your lies. Stop!

“No, not at all,” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Bakugou has been glaring a hole in your head all day, I’m sure you noticed.”

Izuku tugged at his gloves, pretending he was trying to get them off. “Yeah, I noticed. I accidentally cut him off on the way to school this morning. I think he’s still mad about it.”

“That’s rough,” he pat his shoulder, “Sorry about him, but at least he’s not trying to kill you like usual. Maybe the internship calmed him down a bit.”

“Maybe.” He trailed off.

Not giving him anything else, Kirishima gave Izuku a blinding smile. “I’ll see you in class then, don’t take too long or Uraraku will think Bakugou threatened you again.”

Izuku forced himself to chuckle as Kirishima bounded out the door with Kaminari on his heels. Finally alone, Izuku closed his eyes and took a long deep breath. Hide behind that smile, it’ll make people underestimate you. Stop!

“Oi, Deku!” Katsuki’s harsh voice made him jump, startled by how close he was. How did he get so close? You’re slipping. Stop!

“Oh, hey, Kacchan,” Izuku forced a timid smile on his face. Almost done, keep your mask together until you get home.

“Drop the act, nerd, we’re alone.”

He scanned the room, noticing they were, in fact, alone. He sagged, sinking into the bench to tug his custom off. “You’re slipping,” Katsuki said, taking a seat next to him, “I can see it in your smiles. How the others haven’t caught on I have no idea.”

“They have no other reasons to believe otherwise.” You’re a liar. Stop! They won’t trust you if you slip. Stop!

“Stop it,” Katsuki growled as he slapped the back of Izuku’s head, “I can hear your fucking thoughts from here.”

“Sorry.”

“Izuku,” His name made him look up, “You go to a school with a dozen pro heroes, he can’t touch you here.”

He shook his head again and slipped his shirt on before finally removing his gloves. He could feel Bakugou’s eyes on his wrists. He’s judging. Stop! He’s disgusted with your weakness. Stop!

Katsuki sighed, “She’s buying food, right?”

He nodded. 

“Was it her boyfriend?” The eyes, too many eyes were looking at the bruises. You’re weak. Stop. You mess everything up. Stop! Weak. Stop! Quirkless. Stop! Worthless. Stop! He’s only being nice because he’s scared of you. Stop!

Warm hands clapped against his cheeks and Izuku stared wide-eyed at concerned red eyes. Red eyes, so much better than green. He took a shaky breath, his lunges rattling with the effort and when he spoke it came out more of a breath of air then words. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” he nodded and pulled his hands away, “okay.” He’s pitying you. Stop! Pitying because you’re weak. Stop! Useless. Stop it!

His phone buzzed next to him. Bakugou rolled his eyes and straightened to shove his hands in his pockets. “I’ll wait outside, just hurry. I don’t want to deal with round face again today.”

“Scared?” Izuku joked, feeling his Deku mask peel off as he gave him a wicked grin. 

“I’ll be outside, Deku,” Katsuki said, stressing the nickname.

Izuku sighed and rested his head on the lockers, only with another buzz of his phone had him looking down. He ignored the first text and opened the group chat that kept going off.

 Sleepy-Cat: Hey Izu up for going to that cafe with us after class?

Tech-Cat: you alive? did Kaaaachan finally get to you?

Sleepy-Cat: I doubt it that would be school news.

Sleepy-Cat: I would imagine Nedzu getting on the intercom and cheerfully saying attention all students, one dumbass just ended the life of an equally big dumbass who refuses to answer his friends.

Tech-Cat: pffff

Sleepy-Cat: Izuuuuuuu!!!!!

Sleepy-Cat: Answer me!!!!!!

 Izuku smiled, letting a real laugh escape him but forcing himself to be quiet. 

 Confused-Cat: Sorry guys just finished training. I can’t today because I have to go straight home, my mom’s working again. Sorry.

Sleepy-Cat: Damn

Tech-Cat: shes alwaaaaaays working

Tech-Cat: thats dumb you could always lie and say you had to stay late

Sleepy-Cat: I don’t encourage what she’s saying but…

Sleepy-Cat: You could do that.

Confused-Cat: You know I can’t lie.

Tech-Cat: true

Tech-Cat: but one day I will kidnap you

Tech-Cat: just to make sure you can actually exist outside of school

Sleepy-Cat: pffft

Sleepy-Cat: You know she’s right.

Confused-Cat: Whatever, I’m heading to class now. Don’t text me.

Tech-Cat: :)

Sleepy-Cat: Mei, no.

Tech-Cat: >:)

 Izuku rolled his eyes and made sure his phone was off before standing. 

God, he was tired, but he couldn’t stop feeling guilty for how disrespectful he must have come off to Mr. Aizawa this morning. It would be best to apologize before going home; afterall, he didn’t want Aizawa to be upset with him more than he probably was. With the promise to hunt down Mr. Aizawa after class, Izuku walked out. He headed to the door and pretended to place a mask over his eyes to remind himself to smile. Smile. 

“Let’s go, nerd,” Bakugou huffed, storming off.

 ____________________________________ 

Turns out, Shouta didn’t need to hunt Midoriya down after class. At the end of the day, he found Midoriya fidgeting outside his class door. “Do you need something, Midoriya?” He asked as he pretended to straighten his papers.

“I-” he started, “Sorry. I wanted to apologize for what happened in class this morning. It was very disrespectful to you.”

Shouta hummed, “You’ve been rather distracted as of late.”

Midoriya bowed. “I’m sorry. I’ll work harder to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

When Shouta sighed, he watched the way the kid’s shoulders tensed and took a small step like he was ready to bolt. “Come in here for a minute,” Aizawa said as he set his papers down. “We need to talk.”

After a moment of hesitation, Izuku walked further into the classroom, up to his teacher’s desk. He heaved a quiet sigh through his nose. Shouta could tell be the way Midoriya’s fingers trailed along the edge of door, he did not want to stay longer than he needed to. “Is everything okay, Midoriya?”

“I’m fine!” The reply came too quickly, and the room took on an unnatural stillness as Shouta observed his student. The uneasy static was back, this time more suffocating than usual as Midoriya’s hand reached for his phone with a look of horror right as it went off. Neither moved as Midoriya’s phone rang letting the sense of unease settle around them. 

With a quiet sigh, Shouta leaned back and waited for the phone to stop before saying, “You haven’t been yourself lately.” He watched Midoriya intensely, trying to find any hints in the boy’s behavior. Unlike usual, Midoriya didn’t shrink away from his intense glare instead it felt like the kid didn’t even notice it. Or, more likely, was choosing to ignore it.

Midoriya let out a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck, Shouta’s eyes following the path of the boy’s hand hoping to see the bruises more closely.

As if noticing, Midoriya lowered his hand and casually tucked it out of his view. “I’m not sure what you m-mean, sir.”

“You don’t seem as happy.”

“I’m fine,” Izuku repeated with a nervous smile, “I guess I’m just a bit more tired this week, but it’s okay. I’m working on it.”

Shouta nodded, watching the boy’s nervous fidgeting, and chose to take a more direct approach. “I’ve heard you’ve been having difficulties at home.”

And there it was. Midoriya stiffened and stared wide eye at him for a split second before returning to his usual nervous fidgeting. The change was fast, almost unnoticeable but Shouta caught it. Something definitely wasn’t right.

“I guess you could say that,” Midoriya trailed off into a whisper. He straightened his tie and gave Shouta dazzling smile before continuing, “My mom’s been working a bit more than usual which can be a bit stressful at times, but it’s okay, we’re figuring something out”

Too forced, too scripted. “Where does she work?” Pretending like he bought Midoriya’s shpeal, he decided to get more information. Maybe if he continued this line of questioning, he could learn something to get Nedzu to let him run an investigation instead of just watching.

“She’s a nurse at a nearby hospital. With the increased crime in the area, she’s had to take a lot more night shifts than usual, but I think she enjoys it.”

“Are you home alone a lot then?”

Izuku shuffled his feet and found something very fascinating with something on the ceiling. “I mean, I guess. It’s really not that big of a deal plus her boyfriend or a neighbor will stay over if she knows she’s going to be gone all night.”

Shouta scowled at the underlying bitterness he heard when Midoriya mentioned the boyfriend. “Do you get along well with him?”

Midoriya rubbed his wrist. “Yeah, he’s pretty nice.” 

“Are your wrists alright, Midoriya?”

“Of course.” He yanked his hand away as if the question had burned him. Shouta’s scowl deepened, something was very very wrong.

“I’ve just noticed you’ve been rubbing them a lot today. If you’re injured, you should go to Recovery Girl even if the injury isn’t school-related. 

Midoriya tugged at his sleeve and gave him a smile that was obviously fake. “I’m fine, sir. Thank you for your concern.”

When Midoriya didn’t drop his smile at a moment of silence, Shouta sighed and bent down to scribble something down. “Is that all, sir?” Midoriya asked as he shuffled to the door, he phone going off again, “My mom’s probably worried where I am, I should probably get going.”

The boy turned to leave and Shouta could only watch as he opened the door. Midoriya turned around and bowed, “I’m sorry again for this morning.”

Shouta waved him off, “It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again.” He stared down at the phone number he’d scribbled down on a small piece of paper and bit his lip. Just watching be damn, he hurried to the door. “Midoriya.” 

The kid froze as he approached and turned to look at Shouta with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. Handing the paper out to his student, he said, “In case you need anything.”

“I’m fine,” Midoriya repeated, looking everywhere but at him. Even with his insistence, he took it without a word or any other indication, “but thank you got your concern.”

“It’s my job, kid,” he said, finally catching a proper look at Midoriya’s wrist, “ but if you’re ever not fine, you can tell me, I’ll help.” 

Midoriya nodded and used his head to gesture to the end of the hall. “I should get going.” Shouta nodded, but neither of them moved. The kid glanced at him like he wanted to say more, but with one more phone call, Midoriya bowed to Shouta again and walked away.

“Eraser,” Bakugou growled behind him, “We need to talk.”

He raised an eyebrow and Bakugou didn’t even give him room to speak as he stormed into the classroom. “I saw you give Izuku your number.”

Shouta’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, so shocked by hearing Bakugou call Midoriya anything other than an insult that he didn’t even register the implication of eavesdropping.

“You’re suspicious,” Bakugou growled, turning around once Shouta had shut the door, “Good. Whatever you suspect, you’re right.”

“Bakugou,” he started, but Bakugou steamrolled over him.

He aggressively ran his hand through his hair. “That shitstain has fucking rope burns on his wrist for fuck sake. I have no fucking clue what’s going on at home, but whatever it is, it’s hurting him.”

“What are you implying?” Shouta pushed. He needed to know everything he could and if Bakugou gave him enough probable suspicion, he could actually do something other than giving Midoriya his number.

“I’m implying, you bastard,” Bakugou snapped before taking a deep breath to calm himself, “that Deku didn’t have those fucking bruises on his wrist yesterday and he sure as hell didn’t get them from training. Just do your damn job, I may hate the bastard, but he’s still my fucking friend.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened almost startled by what he said before he glared at Shouta. “If you fucking tell anyone I said that, I don’t give a damn if you’re a pro, I will end you.” Bakugou sighed, his shoulders sagging with unseeable weight making Shouta wonder just how long Bakugou’s been watching Midoriya. “Fuck.”

Shouta was not expecting any of that. He took a moment to process what Bakugou had said, possible abuse, and by what he overheard yesterday, neglect. He nodded, “I’ll open an investigation, thank you for telling me.”

Bakugou nodded and turned to leave but paused. “You’ve noticed it too,” Bakugou asked, “his eyes?”

He turned and left, leaving Shouta alone. His eyes? Shouta thought back, thinking about all the time he noticed something was off about Midoriya. He thought about how it always seemed at the most random times when he’s laughing with his friends when he’s about to get punched in the face during training, but without a doubt, it was always when no one else was looking. Midoriya’s eyes would scan the area and seem to dissect those around him. Bakugou was right. Shouta did notice, notice the eyes that seemed to know much more than he let on.

[phantomphangphucker]

The Bindings Of Time - Chapter 4. To Throw Off The Sands Of Time And Education - PhannieMay - Day 23 Graduation and Day 22 Memories

Summary: Graduates got to have a bit of fun

(Multi-chapter fic, each chapter falls under the Memories prompt as well as another day’s prompt)

Danny yawns as he wakes up, it’s definitely strange having his body sleep while his minds doing time shit. But while his body needs the rest he can’t just check out from time for hours on end. Rubbing his ring and patting at the chessboard before heading down for food. It’s quite impressive the amount of introspection and problem solving one can do while sitting at a simple chess board. Well, ok, his chessboard wasn’t exactly simple but whatever. 

Smiling at his mom softly as he walks into the kitchen. Knowing she’s still not too pleased with his job and feeling rather uncomfortable with all his changes, “mornin’, making eggs?”. She nods but frowns a little, “I’m sure you already knew that”. Danny sighs as he takes his seat, “don’t do that. I don’t know everything while human and even when I do know, I still want to hear about it and ask. Holding contempt or resentment over my powers isn’t good”. “Are you just saying that for the timeline?”, Danny can practically feel the displeasure in her voice. While he gets that his powers might be confusing and even downright frustrating for others, he would like those close to him to at least be ok with them. He can’t help but glare a little at the back of her head, “it’s rare I’d have to do anything specifically for time. I’m being genuine, my title and powers are part of me. Having disdain for part of me or any of my powers would and will never have been or be good, for any of us. Jazz would say it’s not healthy or whatever mental psychobabble”. Danny makes a point of not schooling his expression as she turns around and reads his face, letting her see that he’s not really pleased with her displeasure. She hands him his food after a beat and sighs, “sorry sweetie, it’s just really strange and it’s changed you. Which I know you understand and are ok with, but I think it’s fair to say everyone else doesn’t really get it”. “Of course, I expected no different, even before getting time powers. I figured adjusting would be difficult for everyone, what I hadn’t expected was that it would come easy to me. One thing ClockWork’s not good for is warnings”, chucking faintly as he continues, “the very first thing I even said was “fuck ClockWork, better warning needed”. And yeah I know, swearing, but I think swearing was pretty suiting at that moment”. Though she looks a bit unimpressed it’s clear she agrees, “if you ask me, you should have had full warnings beforehand”. Danny finishes off his mouthful before responding, air-quoting “Sometimes warnings are non-necessities and only serve to discourage us from doing what we must” end air-quoting. Shuffling a bit, “having forewarning isn’t always that helpful and while yes I had a choice in all of this, there was no other who could do the job. But ClockWork wouldn’t have faded unless the universe itself knew I was ready and willing. Plus, I don’t always heed warnings, even ClockWork’s”. Putting away his dishes as he looks at the time, it’s always been a bit odd going to school with no one even having a clue who or what exactly his classmates were going to school with or his teachers teaching. Now it’ll be even more odd, before he was just the overpowered ghostly town hero. Now he was more or less a god, though he didn't exactly care to be referred to as one. Just a powerful halfa with lots of responsibilities, some just happened to be outside of other people’s understanding. Though the omniscience and omnipresence made it kind of hard to deny the god title. Chuckling, “I am probably going to freak Mr. Lancer, and every other teacher, out for the remainder of school”. This actually gets his mom to snort, amused, “school literally has no purpose to you, does it? You could probably teach the teachers”. She’s not wrong, heck he could make corrections to the history books. That would be a really dumb idea though. Smiling at her as he grabs his backpack, “the teaching never really did, I was always fated for this. But school carries socialisation and the creation of support networks. That’s one area where me and ClockWork differ, I don’t thrive under solitude. Fostering connections and all my bonds with people, good and bad, make me well. School does that, so there is still a purpose; it’s just a bit different”, smirking, “like everything else about me. Utterly unique and wholly different”. Catching her mutter as he walks out the door, “a little too unique and why couldn’t you just say it’s nice having friends and hanging out?”.

Danny high fives Tucker as they sit down in class, “dude, if you don’t confused the shit out of every teacher I will hate you. Specially since school’s almost out”. Danny rolls his eyes and mouths “duh” while sitting down. And he can’t help a mischievous smirk as Mr. Trent walks in. Though he knows this teacher won’t even care, pretty well numb to the antics of the weirdo trio. By fourth Danny’s pretty well amused with himself, sure he’s had to check in with time a bit excessively to make sure his fucking around was all well and good. But making Ms. Jetsin snort her tea out her nose was very very worth it. Smiling as his homeroom and English teacher, Mr. Lancer, comes in. He really does like the man, he’s both eccentric and wise, plus he knows how to work people. If he wasn’t so strict and pushy, they’d probably get along great. Though he does get along with him pretty well nowadays, even if Mr. Lancer did get on his ass about stuff an awful lot. That was another thing that caught him off guard, finding out just how much Mr. Lancer actually cared, especially about him. He’d have figured all the teachers would have given up on him by now, but no. Danny can tell that Mr. Lancer knows he’s going to be trouble today, purely by the face he pulls. “Now I know I’ll be seeing you all on you’re way soon but there are still things this old man can teach you about the real world. So do try to pay some attention”, Danny will give him props for trying but no one really cares anymore; and Danny hardly cared to begin with. And now there’s really nothing he can learn, experiences is all he’s got to gain. Danny pretends to be having a nap while Mr. Lancer goes on about philosophy essays. Hearing how people interpret things that don’t have solid answers was much more amusing now, since it was actually possible for someone to come up with something he hasn’t heard before. While human anyway, otherwise he’d know their opinion before they even thought it. Unlike biology or history, all that stuff was old news to him. Heck, he knew it before it even became human knowledge or happened. Smirking slightly as Mr. Lancer finally calls on him, “since you seem to find this tiring, Mr. Fenton, care to provide an interesting take on belonging to the world rather than a country and living without excess?”. Danny can’t help but snort, kind of ironic to ask that of the guy who couldn’t have loyalties to a specific country. “I can’t claim to ascribe to stoic cosmopolitanism personally, but viewing humanity as one central state to belong to is quite logical, if a bit obvious. Of course all humans ought to feel endearment towards humanity as a whole, otherwise humanity would be much more actively self-destructive”, really the only reasons Danny doesn’t view himself as in the community of humanity is the whole halfa thing and his job. That kind of required viewing himself as outside of every community, making himself in community with only himself. Though free to mingle with others. Lifting his head up and lazily resting it on his palm as he continues, while half the class looks completely lost and are actually paying attention to him purely out of mild shock. Most having never heard him give more than couple word answers or just not having an answer at all, “and the idea of excess is so beyond relative that it’s almost not worth pondering, but Diogenes’s idea of excess is quite extreme. While sure using your hands to drink water instead of a bowl and forgoing shoes, can make you feel connected with nature; intentional inconvenience for the sake of minimalism is, in and of itself, excess in a way”, twirling his hand in the air, “further, ascribing meaning and values to things is innate in the behaviour of nearly all sentient beings. So to live with nothing would be rather unhealthy, unless you make that nothing your everything. Which I’m sure is what he did, having nothing was his niche. So his opinion was not exactly objective”. Smirking slightly as he decides he’s just going to keep rambling until someone speaks up, “don’t say I blame him for picking a staff and cloak of all things to keep and be attached to. It’s very easy to be pragmatic with such tools”. Continuing to speak over Tucker’s snort, “though living with excess of material goods is definitely debilitating and reduces the worth and attachments you can have drastically. In the same way as things gain value in rarity so too does the personal value of what you have grow with scarcity. But going so scarce as to live in pottery instead of owning a home is just plain absurd, if a bit amusing”. Tapping at his chin, “Diogenes was an all-around absurdist really, too bad none of his work survived; I’m certain it would have been highly entertaining for you all. Well, for people who care for unusual eccentrics anyway. People are far more content to write down all their weird musings than actually act on them, so imagine the utter abnormality of the writing from a guy who peed on people, plucked a chicken for a joke and walked backwards just to confuse people? He may have been against excess and belonging to a group of one or a small community, but his personality was his excess and being that odd makes you one against all”. Chuckling, “definitely not a good portrayal of humanity, quite misleading actually. You’d think ascribing to and pretty well creating the idea of humans all belonging to humanity, would make someone more, well, average”. Danny leans back and yawns as he can tell Mr. Lancer’s going to speak up now, “well Mr. Fenton, you clearly saved your most baffling behaviour till the end. As half of that even I did not quite get. However, I’m inclined to agree. Humans are materialistic by nature and I doubt we are that way for no reason”. Danny can’t help but laugh into his hand as Mr. Lancer addresses the rest of the class, “after that I think it might actually be embarrassing to call on anyone else, so we’ll move on”. Mr. Lancer drones on about linguistics and symbolism’s, while Star kicks Danny’s seat. Talking to him as he turns to her, “who are you and where’s the out of the loop oddball that only gets called on to embarrass?”. Smirking slightly at her, “he’s a little extra dead and flaunting it. I’m weirder than you all know, but there’s no point in not being so in our final few days of school”. Catching Mr. Lancer point at him from the corner of his eye, looking both slightly excited and scared, “Mr. Fenton, since you seem to be actually talkative today. What do you think of the difficulties of learning a new language but how it makes it so people more readily spot symbolism in their lives?” Tilting his head a bit before deciding he’s going to build up to being utterly baffling, “well besides the obvious of it getting harder with age. Aged brains just simply don’t pick up as easily and your first is always the easiest. Besides we’re all surrounded by our mother tongues, not the case with a second language. Though the idea of universal grammar in human DNA is a pretty darn absurd take on the ease with which we learn our first language”, shrugging loosely, “but speaking multiple languages improves nearly every aspect of the brain, so it’s expected that someone would recognise symbolism more effectively and have greater appreciation for it”. Flicking his finger at the abstract painting of an Arbutus tree and Ash tree, “you could argue, someone frequently using and recognising symbolism is enough of precursor for being bilingual. And yes it is a bit on the nose to have the image of an Arbutus tree, for depth or knowledge, and Ash tree, for mental growth and connection; inside a classroom”. Sure him guessing at Mr. Lancer knowing multiple languages isn’t really a guess, as he knows that man speaks four. Smiling slowly Danny speaks in a language he knows Mr. Lancer knows and then repeats himself in ghost speak just to confuse, “obwohl die symbolik ziemlich amüsant ist. Æłthœügh thę ßÿmbõłįßm įß qūïtę åmüßįñg”. Mr. Lancer coughs, effectively caught off guard, but has a playful glint in his eyes, “wo hast du überhaupt deutsch gelernt? Das wird hier nicht gelehrt. Ich bin mit der anderen Sprache, die Sie verwendet haben, nicht vertraut”. Smirking back at his teacher, “expected, helping my parents build a translator for ghost speak rather required learning their language. And you’d be surprised the things you pick up when traveling, see I’m a rather memorious or you could say semi-eidetic memory”. Shrugging at his unimpressed teacher while Dash speaks up, “so you’re even more of a freak?”. Danny can’t help but be amused at how right Dash is but he doesn’t even get a chance to respond as Star turns to him, “what even is eyedeckit”. Smiling softly at her, “I learn fast and have nearly flawless memory. I just don’t really focus effort on schooling so it doesn’t show”. Technically he’s not even lying, he’s always had a quick learning ability. Just now it was universal and instantaneous knowledge instead but he couldn’t exactly say that. And going with photographic memory would be a little too suspicious, heck no one’s even really been confirmed to even have that. Mr. Lancer looks even more unimpressed but doesn’t get to comment on that, as the bell goes off. He does, however, ask Danny to stay. Rubbing his neck awkwardly, “yeah I know, I should care more about my schooling. Things happen and not everyone’s priorities rest in the same vein. Furthered education really isn’t in my playbooks, so just enough to graduate is where my caring ends”. Mr. Lancer sighs, “you’re barely managing that, when it’s apparent you could easily be near or even surpass your sister. I hope whatever you are focused on is worth the intellect but I still think you should strive for more”. Danny does wish he had more time in the past to actually study and learn. He’s not exactly proud of the poor grades, but his place as protector and, now, job as Overseer of the timestream, took precedence. Smirking slightly as he rubs his ring, “my new job requires it actually and yes it’s very much worth both the intellect and the brutalised academic standing”. Danny makes sure his pride is clearly palpable which Mr. Lancer responds to positively, “then I’m glad, a student filling into a satisfactory and fulfilling life is the best a teacher could ever wish for. I guess my worry over you has been rather misplaced, but for that I am proud”. “You’re worries been highly appreciated, the concern and meddlings of others in my life has been and is justified, not to mention gratifying. How else would I have been aware of available support networks?”, Danny can’t help but smile as Mr. Lancer nods fondly at him before shooing him off to lunch. Danny really does like the guy and making Mr. Lancer feel like he did some good and affected Danny positively, was more than pleasing to Danny; and he knew Mr. Lancer would sleep very well tonight.

Tucker slaps Danny on the back as he sits down for lunch, “dude that was great, no damn clue what you were talking about but oh my god”. Danny smirks, “just a guy with a minimalism kink who doesn’t believe in people calling themselves Americans or Canadians. That, and knowing many languages makes you smarter”. Sam smirks, “well, we all know at least two so yay for our brains”. Tucker pokes at Danny, “dude, you talked for a solid ten minutes and just summed it all up in, maybe, two sentences. Your mind is officially terrifying”. Danny shrugs playfully, he’s not exactly wrong.

Danny’s in the middle of going on about half-angle trigonometry, which wasn’t even how he was supposed to solve this equation, when his ghost sense goes off, “can’t really say how doing it this way would ever be useful though. Anyway, I’ll be back or more than likely not”. The one good thing about this going on for four years is that practically none of the teachers cared or were surprised anymore. Stretching lazily as he gets up, speed walking to the bathroom. Pulling off his white belt before transforming, forgoing the cloak and staff, then putting the belt back on to cover his clocks, before flying through the ceiling. He could throw on white gloves to cover his hourglasses but he’s got a joke to make and Skulker is the perfect target. Floating over to Skulker with his hands behind his head and smiling devilishly, “can’t say I’m surprised you’re the first one to officially get back to business”. “Always whelp! I’ve got a pelt to pouch”,  Danny easily avoids the harpoon as he changes to his ghostly tail. Skulker clearly notices his far more erratically and energetically pulsating tail; looking more like glitching static rather than loose waving. “You are in good health and power it would seem, makes for a finer pelt!”, Danny can easily read the genuine concern there, even if Skulker voices his worry about his well-being rather oddly. Suitable behaviour for a ghost though, if he got that from a human he might actually be concerned. “Oh you have no idea, all’s well with time”, Danny fully knows Skulkers frowning because you’re not really supposed to make references to faded ghosts so blatantly so soon and he knows the triple meaning was majorly lost, he doesn’t really care though. Avoiding another shoot from Skulker as he slinks up behind him, punching him clean in the gut, sending him into a wall. Chuckling, “you’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, the smooth sands of time”. Danny can’t help but laugh exaggeratedly at Skulker incredulously sticking his arms out and pointing at his hands, “you’re pelts changed?! And not in a Phantom way!”. Wiping at his eyes, “time always makes its modifications! But it is so very Phantom, the Phantom of times future”. Now Skulker is crossing his arms, “okay what’s going on here? You’re never this bad”. Waving Skulker off, “I’ve been saving them up, built quite the repertoire. And really, how could I not? But hey, you get to be the first one I hit with the unyielding stick of time”. Skulker just throws his hands up before going after Danny again. Danny let’s Skulker get his blade less than a centimetre in front of his face before teleporting, with the usual hands of time portal, behind him. Skulker spins around to face the cockily grinning Danny, “did you just teleport? And in that manner?”. Danny grins wider, “and I’d say I timed it pretty well, though I planned that out days ago. But don’t worry, it’s not that you’re predictable, more that surprising time is rather impossible”. Spotting Skulker’s slightly wary stance, Danny decides now’s the time to really shock him. Phasing off the belt seconds before letting the purple transformation rings spring out to form his cloak and staff, grinning wide, “it’s both impressive and a little sad that none of you realised I was times apprentice. Time’s my bitch now”. Danny takes Skulker’s stunned shock to quickly fly up and full force slam him on the side of the head with his staff. Chuckling as he floats down to the decapitated helmet, “in time, time beats them all”. Picking Skulker up by one of his tiny green legs, while Skulker gapes, “I could have kept going and you would have figured it out, in time. But this was more fun, so in case this isn’t obvious”, Danny shakes his time staff which Skulker glances at, “I'm the new Master Of Time, always was going to be. But well, only time knew that. Oh and don’t worry, all my little scuffles will continue to be more or less fair. I’m just flaunting now as a more humorous way to reveal my graduation from apprentice to master”. Skulker’s high pitched voice is clearly more than just startled, “so that, that’s what that Observant wanted with you. I’ll still have your pelt whelp, but take the advice; you’re not him so don't try to be. Time Master or not”. Danny has no intention of copying his faded Master but he knows no one really knew just how alike they were. Smiling loosely, “I don’t have to try, we’re birds of a feather; scarily similar actually. I’m just not so solitary and slightly more of a joke. In regards to the outfit, he made both himself”. Danny knows full well what Skulker’s about to say but there’s no way he can’t laugh his ass off as Skulker speaks, “he was no jokester ghostchild! Handled everything with serious composure”. Putting Skulker down on a rooftop as he bends over wheezing, “he was a good seventy percent jokes! We had prank wars! Got him drunk off of chess! Half the reason he was so confusing was because he found it insanely funny!”. Whipping at his eyes and bending down to be more on level with the tiny ghost, “his name, like mine, was a literal pun, dude. He fought with a scythe purely to be extra and used symbolism out the wazoo. He was a massive jokester, just a sneaky one”. Pulling out and shaking the thermos, “now hold your tongue so I can have my, it’s the Time Master bitch!, moment”, smirking, “and the Observants were right, I am going to be just as insufferable to them as he was”. He can tell Skulker’s confused but he doesn’t really care, as he sucks him in.

The rest of the school day goes more or less the same as the morning. Danny isn’t surprised no other ghosties showed but could anyone really blame him for hoping? Yawning and stretching lazily while a good portion of the school gawks at him as he heads home. Walking inside and poking his head into the kitchen; while knowing full well that Skulker won’t hold his tongue for more than a day and was having a mild freakout, “you probably shouldn’t hold supper for me, it’s time for the new Master Of Time to be known. Could go long, could go short; see how I feel like playing it”. Clearly his mom’s feeling better as she reaches up to ruffle his hair some, “Ghost Zone I’m assuming? And anyone would know I’d prefer you make it short”. “Of course mom, on both accounts. But I’ll see. Taking things fast usually isn’t the best option when dealing with startling things or talking to large crowds”, her sigh makes it clear she understands and agrees. “Oh, and school was very amusing, for me anyway, bemusing for everyone else though. Well, Mr. Lancer was tickled pink actually, but he’s weird”. Maddie snorts, “I’m glad you impressed your teacher, especially that one; he genuinely cares about you”. Danny smiles warmly as he heads out the kitchen, confusing his mom unintentionally, “uh, I thought you were heading out right off the bat?”. Summoning out his staff and responding only slightly confused, “yup, why?”. She sticks her head out and glares a little but relents at his raised eyebrow, “did I actually confuse you? Wow okay. It’s just that the labs down the other way”. Danny chuckles as he facepalms, dragging his hand down his face and letting it fall to the side before responding, “I’m just going to make my own portal. That’ll get me where and when I need to be. And yes I can still get confused or miss stuff, at least while I’m human. I’m only omniscient and omnipresent when I’m in ghost form. My awareness and knowledge is optional while human, well, sort of. It’s complicated”. Now his mom actually looks intrigued and excited, smirking at her, “yeah you can watch”. Danny knows the staff spinning is really not necessary but it’s very extra and thus worth it. Tapping his staff on the ground to bring a little more attention to it before rather dramatically swirling it, catching his mother say, “more clock imagery?”.

Smiling at the mirror in his clocktowers bedroom after pulling down his hood and ruffling his hair. Tilting his head back to look out one of the windows, “getting a lair as a graduation gift is a bit extra but it is nice to have a true home here”, before it had just been sort of a home, like being a permanently invited guest; now it was his. Floating out into the main room, it’s probably a little odd he hasn’t been back since getting his new role and powers. All the gears and swinging clock bits are a pretty heavy reminder and he fully intends to leave ClockWork’s scythe exactly where it is, Danny does have some shame after all. Using a scythe is too on the nose even for him and that was all ClockWork’s thing, while Danny’s got his thermos. Plus, unlike ClockWork, Danny has real offensive powers. Heck, his clawed gloves were probably as sharp as the scythe. Sighing before turning to the screens, making them display different sections of the zone. Chucking hollowly at Skulker debating with himself over whether it was even a sane idea to try and skin the guy who controls and protects time. Danny thinks it’s a pretty sane thing for a ghost to do, because really he was just even more of a prize now; and Skulker’s got an obsession to follow. Besides, it’s not like Danny really minds anymore, the witty banter and sparing is his bread and butter. Skulker’s one of the best to trade blows with, even if it will all be less exciting now. Chuckling more genuinely now as he sends a little paper airplane note through the viewing screen turned portal. Watching as Skulker yelps and reads out loud, “don’t fret about it, tinman. It’s all in good fun, for me anyway. Hover about the Gathers Colosseum if you wanna watch me freak some ghosts out”. Smirking at Skulker looking around incredulously before flying out his clocktower.

Pulling up his hood all the way and closing the cloak before becoming visible while sitting on one of the damaged pillars. Only smiling as a couple ghosts around jerk in surprise at his sudden return to visibility. Following Johnny’s bike with his eyes as it jerks to a stop, Danny knows the cloak plus gear clasp will instantly make pretty well everyone think ClockWork for a second before realising the colour’s wrong. And that’ll be enough for them to make the connection that this black cloaked figure is the new Master Of Time; seeing as time couldn’t exactly go without a master. They’ll assume he’s a brand new ghost or someone who was in the clocktower but never left. Sure, quite a few had seen his cloak at the afterdeath ceremony but his hood was down, effectively covering the gear clasp, and his hood was rounded and snug before; now it was long, pointy and zig-zagged. Plus, no one was exactly focused on his clothing that day. Smiling softly under his hood as an older ghost, Brextik, is the first to approach him, “so you finally make your presence known, young Time Master”. Chuckling faintly, “I’ve been around. Pestering occasionally and basking in the afternoon sun”. Brextik only looks confused for a second before smiling warmly, “well, you are certainly he. May we know your name?”, at this point there’s a fair amount of ghosts around but not quite enough. He’s aiming to tell practically everyone in one fell swoop, “oooo, antsy are we? Just wait out the clock sometime. But”, Danny pauses just to be a bit of an ass, “there is one who already knows here. They’ll hold their tongue though, not that that’s going to discourage you”. Unsurprisingly, that effectively gets most of the gathered ghosts to start pestering each other and Danny can see Skulker groan as he hides away from everyone. Of course, the commotion draws in more ghosts, all having varying degrees of reactions to his presence. Some excited, some cautious, some even look insulted or angry, the ones that draw his attention most of the ones that glare disapprovingly and turn their backs to him. A clear show of how Danny’s not going to take ClockWork’s place, which Danny doesn’t aim to. That’s why he couldn’t become The Master Of Time right away, he had his own ghostly shoes to fill. Had to establish himself outside of the shadow of ClockWork, else he’d never stand on his own and would have busied himself with the impossible task of filling ClockWork’s shoes. Trying to be just like him and fulfil the same role in everyone’s (after)lives that he did. Not to mention, filling the role of protector amongst humans is what moulded him into being so selfless. Plus, also forged a close bond and connection with humanity, so he would be equally tied to both worlds and species. Smiling as Ember finally arrives and eyes Walker accusingly, before even looking to the black cloaked figure. He finds it amusing that Walker’s one of the ones to turn his back to him. Especially knowing why, smirking as he floats lazily in-front of the white-suited ghost; who promptly turns the other direction. The two go back and forth like this for a bit, with Danny floating in front of Walker and Walker turning away, before Walker glares at him as he floats in front of him again, “Phantom better be the one who knows who you are, those two were close and I have nothing but respect for how he acted those days ago. The least you could do, newcomer, is honour that respect and behaviour. Even if it’s not a rule”. Danny chuckles lightly, be pretty sad if he hadn’t been the first non-omnipresent ghost to know. Sighing faintly, “he knew when you saw him last, walking tall and proud with a makeshift funerary flag in his hands and a time medallion in his pocket”. Walker eyes him suspiciously but Danny doesn’t give him much of a chance to ponder as he teleports back to his broken pillar. Curling his energetic tail around the pillar, peeking the bottom of his staff out the side of his cloak and letting it hang there for a bit before pulling the whole thing out, with his hand coming into view to everyone in the process. Swinging it down to bop a younger ghost, who’s a little too handsy, on the head. He’ll give Brextik props for being so pushy, guy really wants to be the first to get a good look at the new Time Master. Danny elects to satisfy him in a way, lifting his other hand out of his cloak to flick time sand out his pointer finger at the old ghosts ghostly tail, which promptly freezes in time. Brextik clearly is impressed and shocked but is trying to not show it. And Danny forces himself not to laugh as he overhears a couple ghosts muttering about how he’s got more powers and thus, obviously more powerful. Danny discretely calls “time out”, as he catches Ember giving the, now found, Skulker a disbelieving but knowing look. While Skulker just looks apologetic and startled. Floating over to stick his head between theirs, “time in”, smirking as both of them jump. He knows that pretty well every ghost knows that him “teleporting” without a teleportation portal meant he had fiddled with time. Chuckling lightly as Ember pokes at, but doesn’t dare move, his hood, “it’s been a few days but I’m certain your fashion-forward mindset won’t hold the initial reactions of disapproval towards a change in forms”. Now Skulker looks even more embarrassed while Ember just looks impressed, “of course it would be you, you over-sized weirdo”. Danny smirks, muttering just to them “well, duh”, before flying upside down and flipping to land on the back seat of Johnny’s bike. Johnny gapes from the drivers seat and Kitty from the handlebars, it was nice to see they were in a good mood towards each other; actually behaving like the lovebirds they are. Danny switches to his legs and crosses them, the whites of his boots visible under the bottom of the cloak. “I’d say sounding alike is quite expected. Knowledge begets wise words and truly understanding what confuses others make someone rather confusing themselves. Oh, and by the way, it was time for the true Master Of Time so the guider and keeper of the role had to take his leave. Somethings and beings exist to mould and maintain till the rightful owner comes along”, he knows even the Observants didn’t properly understand just what ClockWork’s role had been, and it’s unlikely anyone other than the two beings of time ever could. Johnny stammers a bit, “so you’re, saying, the oddball we’ve all been picking fights with, was the true Overseer of time?”. “A responsibility to watch over time of both worlds could only be fulfilled by a being of both worlds. A title that requires self-sacrifice and attentiveness, falls in line with the very nature of any who truly take up the mantle of hero and protector. And I’ve always been protecting both”, Danny takes this as the time to push back his hood by running his right hand through his hair. Ears flicking out as the hood rests in its natural spot just behind his ears, while he smirks playfully at the couple. Turning his head to the crowd at hearing their gasps, pushing down a laugh at the mutterings of how they wouldn’t believe this if they hadn’t just seen him use his time powers. Which is precisely why he hid who he was and he can tell Skulker realises that’s the main reason he was told to hold his tongue. Smiling softly, “I’m still to go by Phantom but yes, I’m the new Master Of Time. I’ve been times apprentice for years, I’ve simply self-actualised into my rightful place now”. Switching to his tail and floating back to the broken pillar, smirking with a playful glint in his eyes, “the clocktower is my lair now, I will know, of course, if any of you show up there for whatever reasons you may have. I expect that the same formalities will still apply to only paying visit to there in times of requirement, so I will show if you arrive at my door”. Danny continues after nearly everyone nods very noticeably and at spotting most of those who’ve picked fights with him looking guilty and like they’re about to get scolded, “oh and for those of you who’ve made an opponent of me, don’t waste effort on worrying about anything to do with that. It helped me to become who I needed to be and it is thoroughly enjoyable. I’ll continue to be relatively fair in future skirmishes. Besides, even before you could never have really won or destroyed me”. With a massive toothy grin, “I’ve been immortal for nearly all of my existence as a halfa”. Danny grins a bit wider at the shock on basically everyone and Skulker throws his hands up dramatically. Which Danny is thoroughly amused by, since getting his pelt would require Skulker actually killing him. Thus Skulker pretty well just found out his efforts had been in vain. Though Danny knows the guy does actually enjoy the sparring, so he’ll keep showing up to fight. He spends well over an hour getting peppered with questions before most ghosts leave. Johnny, Kitty and Walker stick around, with Johnny walking up to, the still perched, Danny, “well man, you being a confusing mess from the get-go makes way more sense now”. Kitty nods, “yeah, Plasmius always made sense even if he’s more of a human. You’re a ball of odd that just got odder”. She smiles softly before continuing and Danny matches that smile, “but if anyone should do this job, you do make the most sense for it. Calling you selfless might be an understatement, even your selfish actions aren’t really selfish. Same goes for protective”. Danny only nods as of course she’s right. Before turning his head to Walker, encouraging him to speak what he knows the man wants to, “the rules really don’t apply to you, so it would seem, we have no quarrel now. You rank above me anyway”. Danny chuckles a little, “my very existence defied the laws of reality from the start. Now there isn’t one natural law that can even be considered to apply to me. There was never really any jail that could hold me, not even the confines of time and the supposed inevitability of mortality”. Johnny groans a bit and points at him, “you talking like that is still creepy”. Sticking his tongue out at the biker, “you try having all of time inside you and not sound like an eccentric compilation of insight and knowledge”. Kitty shrugs loosely, “no one really gives any thought to time powers, Phantom”. Which Danny knows is honestly for the best, dealing with a couple humans trying to wrap their heads around it was hassle enough. Switching to his legs and hoping off the pillar, sending away his staff and crossing his arms lightly, “best keep it that way, you can’t understand it. But, bless their hearts, some humans are trying”. Sighing, “well anyway, I’ve got supper to eat since someone didn’t take my advice on not saving me some”. All three of them snicker, before Kitty hops back on Johnny’s bike and they speed off, Johnny two-finger waving as they go. Danny turns to Walker, “once what you’re about to do would have very much confused me, so I guess take some amusement in that”. Walker sighs but he does smile, which pleases Danny, before handing Danny three gold rifle shell casings each engraved with gears and cypress flowers, filled with purple liquid gold. Danny honestly likes that it’s not perfect and all the little crinkles in the gold, plus he will admit to being impressed with Walker over the symbolism. Smiling as he rolls the shell casings in his fingers, “the meanings here would have been lost on me before and I never did peg you for a military man before. Seems obvious now”. Danny knows Walker actually researched symbolism rather than knowing this beforehand, excluding the three-volley shell casings anyway. He can read the slight and heavily veiled embarrassment on Walkers' face, “he was a man of meanings so meanings were required. You shocked me back then and such a behaviour is done by two people not one, so consider me an honour guard for that”. Danny nods respectfully and he knows that Walker’s aware that the meaning doesn’t need to be explained. But Danny does startle the man by teleporting home directly in front of him.

Appearing back in his human bedroom, sighing at the shell casings. The gears meaning would be obvious to literally everyone, same with the purple. Gold for wisdom and a strong bond, with the cypress flowers for death. Plus, Danny likes to think the crinkled look of the purple gold represented how time doesn’t exist or flow smoothly for a Master Of Time. Putting the casings on the prior fabric and patting them before heading down to eat. He doesn’t really blame his parents for wanting to stay up, blatantly curious about how things went, since what he did was pretty well like a graduation ceremony; just for one and done oddly. Wearing a body covering gown, cloak in his case, talk some to a crowd and throw off your hat, hood in his case. Ending everything of with mingling and congratulations. Sticking his head into the kitchen, “I’m back and yes things went smoothly. Also yes, caused mass confusion and shock”. Both them nod at him while Maddie heats his food back up, Jack pats his shoulder as he sits down, “well, you were already well known as Phantom so that’s expected. But are you going to make this job of yours public to the town too?”. While the reaction would be humorous, that would be a bad idea. A large portion of humanity already disliked how powerful they believed ghosts to be, him especially, making the overwhelming power ghosts were capable of really known was bad. Currently, there’s no chance of humanity even remotely accepting one ghost having the power he did. A god sure, but they wouldn’t see him as a god and he didn’t want them to; that would also be bad. Humanity still needed major work on accepting ghosts before they should be allowed to even slightly grasp how ghosts really are. Shaking his head at his dad, “no, the only humans to know are the ones who already do. Well, for now”. Maddie raises her eyebrow at the last bit as Danny starts mixing his food up, “so like being a halfa this is a secret too. Well, can you at least tell us when it’s going to become public knowledge?”. Danny frowns and sighs, “it’s a very long time away”. Just judging by how she frowns, she understands that he means they’ll be long gone before then, as she quietly mutters, “oh”.

The next few days are relatively normal, Danny being a startlingly intelligent and all-knowing bastard at school, occasional ghost fights where his opponents get confused by his lack of using his time powers, and both intentionally and unintentionally confusing the people close to him. Danny smirks down at his red grad gown, flicking at the black tassel. He’s come to see both red and blue as representing his human half, with green for his ghost half, so it’s hard to not find the red amusing. “What you looking like that for, Fentit? Stunned stupid the local freak actually graduated?”, Danny honestly was, sort of, he kind of hadn’t expected to since he was fifteen. Way too much time taken up by ghost stuff, wasn’t quite so bad for his friends; even if their grades had suffered some too. Least they never failed shit. Rolling his eyes at Dash, “that never even mattered, Dash. Red’s just an interesting colour”, Danny grins devilishly which promptly makes the jock scurry off, looking to avoid Danny assaulting his ears. The guy really wasn’t much of a bully to him anymore, which shocked no one really with Danny being taller than his dad and rather muscular. Being mentally hard to handle just deterred the man even more. Though Danny does feel a little bad that Dash was right about life being kind of a let down for him once Highschool was over. Highschool really was Dash’s golden years. Even if there was so many ways that guy’s future could go. Turning around to smirk at Tucker, who looks even more scrawny and short in the large gown and Sam, who’s gown barely fits over her eccentric, and extremely expensive, dress. Funny enough, all of them had expensive clothing, far more expensive than even what Paulina wore; which she was both confused and annoyed by. Tilting his head back to wear all their parents were before looking at Sam, “I’m still amazed your parents actually paid for all this shit”. “They just wanted you all to make me look good, some bullshit about the people around me needing to be in the finest else it’ll tarnish me”, Sam rolls her eyes exaggeratedly and Danny’s glad they’ve all gotten over pointing out or being bugged by him knowing everything already. He did actually prefer to just be told, a little bit of normalcy was nice. The ceremony is, expectedly, boring; but Danny smiles as it’s his turn on stage. The principal clearly still hates him as she just glares while shaking his hand, but Mr. Lancer is straight up beaming, “never thought I’d get to do this young man, but I’m glad I can”. Danny nods with a mischievous smile, as they shake hands, “and I knew you would, you’ll never have another quite like me though”. Sitting back down, he can’t help but smile proudly when Valerie gets her diploma as well, he was a bit worried about her actually graduating. Her grades got nearly as brutalised as his did, and they were very much friends. It was a bit sad to him that she could never know about who he really was or that Phantom had time powers. He’d honestly always hoped to tell her eventually, but that was one dream he had to give up. That’s the thing with graduating, while you move on and grow into bigger roles, you have to leave somethings behind. Sometimes it’s experiences you’ll never get to have at all or again, sometimes it’s friends and lovers, sometimes it’s hopes and dreams, and other times it’s all the possible futures that might have just been better. But no one could ever really know if they were living one of the better futures for sure, except The Master Of Time. And he knew there could never been anything better or more wonderous for him, than the existence he’s graduated into. End.

[alcoholicseraphim]

The Year Before Tomorrow

Chapter Seventeen- Year III- Selwyn Sojourn

Hermione was already awake when Vici came to fetch her. The afternoon was gone, and apparently they were well into the evening.

Vici glared at Hermione's robes, pulling open the wardrobe and revealing a rack of dainty lady's day robes. Hermione frowned. She'd checked every bit of furniture in the room an hour before and there had been nothing.

"Missy will wear this one," the house elf announced. She held out a lacy white monstrosity and inspected both the robes and Hermione. "Mistress wants Missy pretty for dinner. Vici will help."

Hermione doubted that "pretty" was the right word to use, especially when describing that hunk of fabric, but she allowed Vici to undress her and dress her again in the robes. In the meantime she pondered the wardrobe. It was obvious that this room was spelled to be childproof, and that apparently included the restriction of everything except, presumably, toys. Did they mean to send someone to help her every time she was to be dressed, or washed? Testing the door had proven that it was impossible to open from the inside, and Hermione didn't have the magic to waste on something as silly as opening her bedroom door every time she wanted to leave.

"Vici?" she asked, wincing as a bit of starched cloth scraped against the scar on her chest. "Why are there childproofing spells still on this room?"

Vici did not respond, instead Summoning a hairbrush into existence and pulling it through her still-straightened hair.

Hermione sighed. "Shall I guess, then?" When her query was met with silence again Hermione continued, "There are several reasons that could be, as I see it. The first is that no one remembered to take them down-"

"Yes, Missy," Vici interrupted. "Spells be removed when Mistress has time." A ribbon appeared from nowhere and the house elf tied it into Hermione's hair.

She didn't believe Vici for a single moment. Childproofing spells were intentionally simple, easy to add and easy to remove. Unless, of course, they'd used stronger versions such as those found in wizarding daycares. It would be a matter of minutes to completely strip the room, allowing a fifteen-year-old girl her freedom. She opened her mouth to tell Vici so, but the sight of her pinched, terrified face stopped her. "Okay," she said instead. Vici wasn't the right person to have this argument with.

Instantly the house elf's face relaxed. She put her tiny hand in Hermione's and whisked them both away.

The dining room was unnecessarily large for only three people. Rhea and Morfan were already seated, Rhea at Morfan's right side at the head of the table.

Hermione hadn't noticed that Vici had put shoes on her until she took a step forward and didn't feel the smooth cold of the marble floor. "Thank you, Vici," she said belatedly. Vici beamed and bobbed a curtsy before Disapparating.

"How kind of you to join us," Rhea said, matching every stereotype of the catty stepmother.

Hermione wanted to scowl, but she smiled as graciously as she could manage and scurried across the length of the dining hall to get to the seat on Morfan's left.

Rhea examined her the whole way and continued to scrutinize her even after she'd sat. "We have quite a bit of work to do," she said finally.

"Pardon me, ma'am?" Hermione hummed, staring down at the floral china plate in front of her.

"You're not very smart, are you? We need an heir, and while a boy would have been preferable, a girl will do almost as well, provided you make the right choice in marriage." Rhea tapped one fingernail on the table and a posse of house elves appeared, each bearing a covered dish.

Hermione took a deep breath. She'd anticipated something like this. The spells were an attempt to make her dependent on the Selwyns in even the most simple of things. It did make sense, in a way. If she couldn't even dress herself or leave her room on her own, how would she, a child, be in a position to resist the whims of her new guardians? She sat up straighter and gazed at her foster mother even as the house elves measured out bits of every dish onto her plate.

"Do allow me to be candid, Mrs Selwyn," she began. "We appear to have a few misunderstandings. Conflict is to be expected in any new living arrangement, especially where children are involved. However," she picked up a fork and stabbed into a tiny cube of rosemary chicken, "we will have to come to an agreement."

Rhea also began to eat, slicing up her own portion of the chicken. "Go on," she said. Her voice was calm, but her expression was a warning.

Hermione recognized the warning- how could she not?- but she went on anyway. "There are several things that I'm willing to compromise on or even concede. Some things, however, are unacceptable." She gestured up to her hair, keeping her expression even with difficulty. "I am black. I was born this way, and I am both unable and unwilling to change that fact. I like my hair. I like my skin. Attempts to change anything about my appearance without my express permission will absolutely not be tolerated."

Morfan wasn't eating at all, Hermione noticed. He watched his wife and his foster daughter with glittering, amused eyes.

"Is that all?" said Rhea, a statement rather than a question.

"I'm afraid not," said Hermione. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you've simply forgotten to take down the childproofing spells on the room I'm staying in. If it was just an honest mistake, then please just take them down as soon as possible."

Rhea, to her credit, didn't immediately shoot her down. "And your concessions?" she prompted, her tone as one to a small, demanding child.

"I have no objections with being the perfect Selwyn heir, up to and including marrying whomever you deem fit," she said. Something relaxed in Rhea's expression, and Hermione knew that she'd won. Perhaps not so easily, but the outcome had been decided and it wouldn't be too difficult to whittle Rhea down to compliance.

Rhea didn't respond verbally, and the remainder of the meal was passed in near-silence.

As disagreeable as she was to the majority of Hermione's demands, she did send Vici to wash her hair back to normal. It was probably a pick-your-battles kind of thing, but it was progress. Besides, Hermione didn't appreciate someone interfering with her personal things.

*|II8II|*

"I would like to go to Hogwarts," Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. The familiar weight of her hair once again formed a cloud around her head, and her good humour had returned with it.

"Why would you want that?" asked Rhea, appearing genuinely confused.

Hermione let her face fall a bit, and widened her eyes so they would appear shinier, cognizant of how excessive her acting was for the situation. "I need to be around people for a little while, somewhere I know I'll be safe."

Morfan snorted into his eggs and both women ignored him.

"It's safe here," Rhea argued. "The fewer people there are, the safer it is. Would you really feel safe sleeping in a room with strangers every night?"

"Yes," said Hermione without pause. "My family was attacked in our home in the middle of the night. That could never happen at Hogwarts. Never."

Rhea shook her head, and Hermione noticed all at once that her prim updo was ice-rigid. "It's not the same thing, Genevieve. We are not an obscure name or branch; we have money and power. With money and power come protection. This house has the strongest wards on the market. No one will be able to get in without an invitation."

"But Hogwarts has the strongest wards. Any wizard school does, of course, but Hogwarts is renowned for them. I want to be there. I want to go where You-Know-Who is afraid to attack." Hermione choked on that last sentence, unwillingly and vividly recalling Voldemort's invasion two years before in her personal timeline. This time she would not give him a reason or a method, she vowed.

"Are you all right?" Rhea asked, setting down her fork. When Hermione looked up at her concerned expression, she realized that her fury had seeped into her face.

"Yes, for now. But staying in here all day, every day, is sure to drive me mad with paranoia. I'm already starting down that path. Every little noise is an assassin come to torture me again, you see. If I were at Hogwarts, I would be surrounded by witnesses at all times. There would be no place for privacy, and that's a good thing. Besides that, I'll be keeping my mind busy with schoolwork."

"You can do that here," Rhea pointed out.

"I could, but what about everything else? It will take me time to heal, ma'am. I won't be marrying right away, and who would want a nervous wreck for a wife?"

Rhea's mouth twitched into a frown. "We'll hire a mind healer," she said.

"Mrs Selwyn, I don't think you understand. I've decided that this is what I want. It's the best place for me to readjust to life in society. Keeping me hidden away will accomplish nothing." Hermione leaned forward, gazing directly into Rhea's eyes and pushing.

"We never said we planned on hiding you away," Rhea said, facial muscles twitching again.

"You didn't have to," Hermione said, pushing harder.

Rhea's whole body jumped, and her eyes glazed over for just an instant. It was enough. "You make some very good points," Rhea admitted. "You may go to Hogwarts."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hermione returned, grace coming easily with the euphoria of triumph.

Morfan now looked more confused than entertained, eyes bouncing back and forth between the women on either side of him.

Hermione scooped up the last runny bit of her eggs benedict, struggling to look innocent.

She hadn't tried Hybrid Legilimency since her experiment in Azkaban, and she had none of the justifications that she'd had then. Hermione wasted a moment trying to decide whether she felt any guilt at all, but none came. She knew that she was taking away another human being's free will, she knew that it was no better than Imperiusing her, but she couldn't bring herself to feel badly about it.

Rhea was stubborn, but clearly untrained in the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency. It was a shame, from a purely magical standpoint, because she would have been a natural at it. She'd already developed some shoddy mental shields, which, coupled with Hermione's lack of experience, made it more difficult to influence her. For a moment Hermione had believed that it wouldn't work, and she'd rarely been so delighted to be wrong. A person's first experience with Legilimency often set the stage for every time after that, at least as far as getting inside the mind went. Following that logic, Rhea would now be easier to influence.

Hermione thought about going to her room and scowled. Vici had had to fetch her again that morning, and no one seemed to have any intention to take down the childproofing charms.

"Oh, and Mrs Selwyn?" she chirped. Rhea turned on instinct, and Hermione took advantage of that reaction to capture her attention. "I would love it if those spells on my room were taken care of."

It was a battle of wills, now even more than before. Rhea didn't plan to budge on that point, and Hermione would not accept any answer besides "yes". Genevieve wouldn't take advantage of you, she whispered to Rhea's mind, and felt her barriers relax just slightly. She would have to go gently. Battering through would make her methods far too obvious, and would ruin Rhea besides.

"We'll see," said Rhea, ripping her eyes away from Hermione's. Hermione wanted to scream her fury, but she held it in.

"Of course, Mrs Selwyn," she growled, and swept away. She wouldn't go to her room just yet, not until she was forced to. She would explore the manor on her own and think up a better plan.

A part of her expected Rhea to call after her, but there was nothing. Hermione knew the reason. She'd felt it in Rhea's mind. Rhea was terrified, and had no idea why.

It took her four hallways before she could calm down.

The architectural design was becoming increasingly apparent. The house, while not horribly large, was designed to be a nightmare to navigate. Hermione wished she'd had the foresight to find a quill and parchment in order to sketch out each room's relative location, but she hadn't and she would have to deal with it. She could hardly summon the focus needed to undertake such a large task, anyway. After a moment she looked around to find herself in a completely unfamiliar room, with no way to get back. That was exactly her intention, as it happened, and so she marched on, determined to lose herself even more thoroughly within the labyrinth of Selwyn Manor, and in the meantime she surrendered to thought.

She did want to go back to Hogwarts, in the way that she knew she could do very little from within this house. She wanted to make up with Aberforth and collect Echo again. Her urge to see friendly faces again was shadowed by the dread that came whenever she even thought about her old Gryffindor friends. Starting over again from square one was exhausting, and Hermione had no idea where to even begin. And she would find the strength, somehow, despite everything the universe threw at her.

A dark certainty spread throughout her leaden body beginning in her gut. She wouldn't succeed this year, either. There was just too much time wasted, too little faculties to work with, too little allies. This year would be a year to heal herself as best as she could. Maybe... Maybe going back to Hogwarts wasn't the healthiest option. Maybe it would be best to stay here and learn how to be a proper pureblood, to gain connections with the elite. Maybe...

A whole year, wasted. Could she bring herself to stand by, even knowing what she knew? Even knowing she had absolutely nothing left to lose?

Except her life, she reminded herself, and what little was left of her sanity. A broken wand serves no one. Besides, there are benefits to allowing her new guardian to win. She hadn't conducted herself very well thus far, she realized. She was supposed to be gracious and meek, a pathetic little creature who invokes pity, not her usual obstinate, fierce self. Hermione wrinkled her nose. It would be easy enough to fix, since it had only been a few hours of mistakes. And now that Hermione knew for sure she could still use active Legilimency...

Exploring could wait.

"Vici," Hermione chirped.

A snap signaled Vici's anxious arrival, and Hermione smiled. "Can Vici help Missy?"

"Yes, please," Hermione said. "Would you take me to Mrs Selwyn? My manners were inexcusable, and I want to apologize."

Vici hesitated, one ear twitching. "Mistress is busy now," she said. "But Vici take Missy to lunch and Missy will say sorry."

"That's fine. Would you please take me to my room?"

Vici nodded frantically, grabbing Hermione by the elbow and Apparating them both. House elves moved between points in space with far more ease than wizards did, and as a result Hermione felt none of the sickness that was normal for her. Before Hermione could open her mouth to thank Vici, the house elf was gone, leaving behind a vacuum that the cold air rushed to fill. A sound like thunder resonated through the melancholy nursery.

There wasn't much to do in this room. She didn't have even a pen to write with! Hermione plunked down on the bed with a self-indulgent huff, rolling the lace sleeves of yet another ridiculous robe between her fingers. It was important after her series of blunders to obey her foster mother's wishes without complaint, but now that she was stuck in her cell again she was at a loss. How could she spend her hours in isolation before Vici would fetch her for lunch? It wasn't at all that she was unable to find entertainment in the silence. It was more that she was afraid of being alone. Afraid of being unproductive. At least she was allowed meal breaks and conversation, which was far more than she'd gotten in Azkaban.

Well, Hermione thought, glancing around, she would just have to resort to Occlumency exercises in the meantime. One's mind could never be too strong.

Hermione pushed herself up with effort, resigned by now to the stiffness of joints that she couldn't relieve even with her body's perpetual youth. She propped herself against the wall, feeling her shoulder blades press into the forgiving flesh of the nursery. Even now she was busy shutting down her senses one by one. The process was simple yet un-intuitive. She surrendered the scent of clean sheets and pine to the sound of the gentle hum of the nursery's motherly lullaby first. For several moments she listened with single-minded intensity to the soothing song, and then she let it go into sight. She saw dust motes swirling in a stream of sunlight and traced the swirls in the wood. Again she looked around as if this room held the answers to every question she could conceive of, if she only paid close enough attention. And once she was satisfied, she closed her eyes and focused every bit of her attention on the sensations on her skin. The air was warm and still, the bed-sheets soft satin to her fingertips. Her robe was itchy, and the ends of her hair tickled her neck. She accepted it, discomfort and all, and withdrew into her mind.

Without the distraction of a physical body, her thoughts were free to race as they wished, and some separate, higher thought observed those smaller ones. She was well-organized, she noted with satisfaction, even if she was marked for the time being by the stutters and tangles of uncertainty and impulse. Each path wove a web, complicated yet still clearly perspicuous. The web was nearly tangible, in that mind's-eye way, and with mental fingers she caressed the silk. It was her aim now to build a fortress for that web, a fortress which was simultaneously formed with that very web. She would never run out of space or material, and so she was limited only by her own imagination.

Building mental shields while living with thousands of creatures which specialized in breaking down even the strongest of protection was... difficult, to say the least. Hermione saw without seeing the ruins and cobwebs around her. What had been built before had been largely destroyed, bit by bit, but she was pleased to note that the foundation was packed absolutely solid, so solid she could hardly separate the strands of thought from one another. If they were strong enough to withstand constant attacks from Dementors, then Hermione wouldn't dream of replacing them. She would have to build on top of it, and making the walls just as strong would take time. Time, fortunately or unfortunately, was the one thing Hermione couldn't escape from.

There was something to be said for self-introspection, for Hermione had barely created one thin wall before Vici laid a tiny, withered hand on her arm. Hermione could have stayed in her safe haven, but she could recognize that coming back to the physical world was necessary.

"Is Missy well?" Vici asked, an intolerable sadness on her face. Hermione couldn't help but to reassure her.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking. Are you here to take me to lunch?"

Vici bobbed her head, and this time waited for Hermione to stand on her own and announce her readiness before Apparating them to the absurd dining room.

A few nondescript minutes later, Hermione sat across from Rhea Selwyn, nursing a glass of pumpkin juice. She cleared her throat- unpleasant memories of Dolores Umbridge surfaced, and Hermione shoved them down again- and said in a quiet voice, "Mrs Selwyn?"

"Yes, Genevieve?" Rhea said, her wariness easily visible in her expression.

"I want to apologize. My behavior last night and this morning was absolutely unacceptable. I don't know what got into me, but I can tell you right now that it will never, ever happen again." Her eyes caught Rhea's and held, taking advantage of Rhea's moment of shock to slip into her mind and nudge it. This time it was easier, for Hermione had the lay of the land now and could tell that this was what Rhea had wanted. It didn't take more than a nudge to get her to accept it at face value. What did take some exertion was the redirection of those memories which were inconvenient to Hermione's new image. They were to be forgotten- not erased, just forgotten, as if it had happened years ago and simply wasn't important enough to remember. She smudged out the memory of her insistence on attending Hogwarts, but left behind the emotional conclusion.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Rhea said gently, and it was exactly what Hermione wanted her to say.

"Mr Selwyn, how is your day? I forgot to ask at breakfast." With a radiant smile, Hermione turned her attention to Morfan and worked on fixing his mind as well.

[hellomissmabel]

The sinner and the saint

Allegro & Staccato part 3 - Annie celebrates 700+ lovelies

MASTERLIST

Warnings: A little bit of angst and some long overdue fluff!

Word count: 3.782

Summary: The third part to the followers celebration: the make-up. Based on this song. I prefer the stripped version over the original version and I might’ve scrambled the lyrics just a tad.

A/N: This is also a part of the song challenge as hosted by @mrs-squirrel-chester.

Part 1: the chance encounter

Part 2: The fighter and the lover - Bucky x reader - ANGST

Your little brother never tells you but he loves you so

You said your mother only smiled on her tv show

You’re only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope

I hope you make it to the day you’re twenty-eight years old

“I’m a God damn cliché, Wanda,” you whine softly, staring deeply into the contents of the drink you’ve been nursing for the past hour or so hoping that from the melting ice cubes your solution will suddenly arise. “I fell in love with Tony Stark and I expected him to love me too.”

Wanda elegantly takes a sip from her gin tonic, sending you a curious smile. “You told him you loved him, didn’t you? And Tony got scared, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” you confirm reluctantly, staring up into her bright eyes rimmed with a classic winged eyeliner and sighing exasperatedly. “I told him I loved him and he said he had some urgent business to attend to.”

“Ouch,” Wanda breathes out, “I can understand why you’re so blue all of a sudden.”

Everything is blue

His pills, his hands, his jeans

And now i’m covered in the colors pull apart at the seams

And it's blue

And it's blue

“Everything about him is blue. I’m in love with a guy more than ten years my senior, Iron Man of all people! I didn’t think this through, I simply assumed that this is what I wanted. How could I have ever convinced myself that this was going to work when all the odds are against us? It’s pulling me apart at the seams.”

You card your fingers through your hair, watery eyes obscuring your vision. “I’ll be happy if my brother makes it to his 28th birthday and doesn’t become a member of the forever 27 club. As for my mother, she loves her TV show more than she loves her kids so I wouldn’t count too much on her reciprocating my feelings either. But at least with Tony I was sure that there was something worth holding on to.”

You tried to sterilise your emotions with alcohol and on a normal night out with Wanda you would already be hammered and on the dancefloor giving everyone a good show. But not tonight, tonight you were going to sulk and whine about Tony Stark. “You know, I used to be scared all the time that I’d never find love and now that I’ve found it, I’m scared to lose it. I’m scared that I’m not good enough.”

Wanda gives you a warm smile before ordering another round. The bartender returns and you thank him with a curt nod of your head before sending him off with a couple dollar bills as a tip. “Wanda, I’m just an ordinary girl. When I was still in college, I thought it was all a part of the package deal you know?”

Everything is grey

His hair, his smoke, his dreams

And now he's so devoid of color

He don’t know what it means

And he's blue

And he's blue

An unexpected sadness washes over his face and the corners of her lips curl downwards. “I thought I knew what I was bargaining for,” you continue, hating yourself the more words you release into the air pulled taut. “Dating a celebrity who just happens to also be a notorious womanizer with a different model on his arm every other day, who throws these extravagant parties for all the other big shots out there. But now I’m a grown woman and I’m sick of all those filthy tabloids asking why I’m wasting my time with a giant fuck-up like Tony Stark.”

You choke on your own breath, grabbing your drink from the bar and taking a big gulp of the intoxicating liquid. “He might be a giant fuck-up but he’s my giant fuck-up.”

“Y/N,” Wanda sighs, placing her drink back on the counter before turning to me, shooting me a stern glare, “You and Tony, you’re like allegro and staccato. Whenever life gets a little too much to handle, you’re there to calm him down. You’re his allegro. And then there are times that you don’t feel like coming out of your shell and Tony’s right there to coax you out and introduce you back to the land of the living. You’re his allegro and in return he is your staccato. This is how you two work, it’s how you show each other your love.”

The dim lighting does nothing to disguise her confident appearance as she finalises her monologue. “All that self-doubt is going to be the death of your relationship, Y/N. Tony has never been so deep before, he has never loved anyone as much as he loves you and that frightens him. Just talk to him, meet him halfway.”

“Maybe,” you reply standoffishly, throwing back the last of your drink before informing Wanda that you have to go, your mind made up and set in a surge of determination.

You’re dripping like a saturated sunrise

You’re spilling like an overflowing sink

Quickly worming your way through the thick crowd, luck is on your side when a cab pulls up the driveway just as you walk outside. You get in the backseat and give the driver the address of Stark tower, his brows knitting together in a surprised frown but he doesn’t ask any questions about it which is fine with you.

The rest of the ride is spent in complete and utter silence which only feeds your nerves the longer you’re kept waiting until finally you’ve reached the acquainted skyscraper you call your home. Paying the fare and adding a generous extra on top, you remove your heels after getting into the elevator and pushing the floor number of Tony’s lab, knowing he’ll most likely be tinkering in his lab to get rid of some excess stress.

“FRIDAY, can you please not inform mister Stark that I’m coming? I want to surprise him,” you politely request the I.A. when the doors of the elevator slide open.

“Of course, miss Y/N,” the computer generated voice replies and you give it a genuine thank you, followed by small smile when you see Tony with his back to you confirming that your suspicions hs been right, fumbling on one of his suits through the panoramic windows that mark the entrance to the lab.

Because you had the sense to kick off your heels before entering the building, it allows you to sneak up on him quietly. He’s lost in his thoughts, sighing at a computer screen whilst “Shoot to thrill” by AC/DC blasts through the stereos installed all over the facility. Absentmindedly Tony hums along but you immediately hear his heart is not in it, remembering all those times you and him would dance across the entire floor in nothing but your underwear, having spent the night at the lab working on another one of his ambitious projects.

You’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece

And now I’m tearing through the pages and the ink

Stealthily you move to stand next to him and even when you’re merely inches removes he still doesn’t notice your presence, not until you card your fingers through his hair and his head suddenly snaps in your direction, eyes wide with disbelief yet narrowing suspiciously a moment later. “What are you doing here?,” he questions, “I thought you went out with Wanda to some fancy new club?”

“I did but then I realised it’s not where I wanted to be right now,” you reply coyly, suddenly feeling quite brazen, your fingers still playing with his dark brown locks. You’re glad he hasn’t pulled away just yet and you find yourself leaning into him just a little, your face close enough to his to see that sparkle return to the scene, his reaction to your sassy boldness.

“Then where would you like to be right now?” He must refrain himself from melting into your touch as he gently places his tools back on his workstation and closes his laptop before locking eyes with you, his whiskey coloured eyes affecting your racing heart more than any other alcoholic substance ever will.

You were a vision in the morning when the light came through

I know I’ve only felt religion when I’ve lied with you

You feel inebriated, almost hypnotised by his intense gaze and you swallow thickly before answering. “Next to you,” you whisper carefully, scanning his face for any emotion you can identify but he just continues to stare holes into your skull, so you decide to take your chances and continue.

“I want to be wherever you are, Tony. I’m sorry for dropping the L-word like that, I should’ve thought twice before saying something like that. It’s just that…,” you momentarily stop to gather your thoughts, your eyes downcast to the floor. “I do love you, Anthony Stark, and I want to be the woman by your side.”

A tentative finger grazes your chin and lifts your head up to meet a set of autumn orbs, his arm snaking around your waist and slowly pulling you flush against his chest, his eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance whilst doing so. His embrace is cautious yet loving and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla and spice until his lips find the crown of your head, kissing it lightly, causing your breath to get caught in your throat. You missed this too much.

You said you’ll never be forgiven till your boys are too

And I’m still waking every morning but it’s not with you

“I’m sorry too, Y/N,” he breathes against your ear and you feel your knees buckle at the sinfully sweet sound of his gravelly voice. “I love you and I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.” He kisses your temple and as his lips linger on your cheek, he whispers a soft “I love you so much, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His words knock the wind from your lungs and you cup his face in your hands, making eye contact with the shuddering man in front of you. His expression is pained as he shows you the darkest, deepest corners of his essence. “I never thought that I’d ever find someone to love me back. After all I’ve said and all I’ve done, how is it that you’re still here? I’m a bad person, I don’t deserve an angel like you.”

Art is not what I create

What I create is chaos

“It doesn’t matter, not to me. The only thing that matters to me is that you’re safe. I can’t imagine a life without you, Tony. I don’t care what happened, I don’t care about the accords and I certainly don’t care about the uproar that comes hand in hand with your personality or the general mayhem your actions might’ve caused in the past. I love you for you. I’m in love with Tony Stark, the man who saved my ass all those years ago.”

“God, I love you,” he murmurs into your hair was he tightens his grip on you, his words quivering with emotion and his shoulders shuddering with the tears he’s trying to hold back. He lets out a long, languid sigh before touching his forehead against yours and sobbing softly. This love is more than just chemical.

“I love you,” he repeats and it doesn’t take him much effort to say the next sentence, invading all your senses with just two simple words. “Marry me, Y/N.”

Your thoughts stir and you can feel yourself tensing up at the unexpected declaration of love. Tony quickly catches up on your body language and stiffens immediately, panic spreading over his beautiful features. “I – I am so sorry, Y/N,” he stutters nervously, “I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Yes, Tony, a million times yes,” you say as little droplets stain your cheeks and trickle down your face, wetting your lips when you move to close the distance and connect them with his.

Your hands rest on his broad chest, moving in sync with every doting breath and you allow yourself to disappear into his sturdy frame sheltering you from the soil that once wormed its way into your minds and spread its dirty tentacles all over your hearts, tainting the undying affection you have for this man.

“I don’t have a ring,” he apologises when he breaks away, only to be met with a whimper at the loss of contact.

“I couldn’t care less about a damn ring,” you smile up at him. “I’m not afraid anymore, I’m not afraid anymore to lose your love because I’m sure. I’m sure of us and I don’t need a ring to prove that to you.”

“I – I just, that’s how it’s supposed to be done, right? With a ring? I didn’t even get down on one knee.”

You were red, and you liked me because I was blue

But you touched me, and suddenly I was a lilac sky

Then you decided purple just wasn't for you

“Tony,” you say his name with a weak voice, “Just tell me that this isn’t just a rash decision in the spur of the moment that you’re going to regret in the morning because I’m really not ready for that kind of heartbreak,” you stammer but before you can overthink the entire situation once more, the gentle press of his lips against yours shuts you up, your voice a mile away from the poise Tony oozes, his fingers waving themselves into the roots of your very being.

“I want you to be my wife,” he answers resolutely, not leaving you any room for argument when your body reacts to his hands squeezing your backside, gasping in mock annoyance and giggling at the smirk spreading across his face. “I want you to be my wife, Y/N.”

His hands move up to rub the back of your thighs and you release a breathy “Oh” when he growls lowly and desperately against your skin, nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear before turning his attention towards your pulse point. He sucks and bites softly, his tongue darting out to calm the redness.

Everything is blue

His pills, his hands, his jeans

And now I'm covered in the colors pull apart at the seams

And it's blue

And it's blue

The both of you stay like this for a minute or two, holding each other close whilst the thread of love diminishes the sour sting of the needle, the pinch of guilt that had settled in your bones. Neither of you speak a word until Tony’s nose playfully bumps yours and you disentangle slightly from his secure hold, his fingers thrumming impatiently on your lower spine as his lips teasingly hover over yours.

“If I had known you’d show up, if I had known this is how we’d end the night, I wouldn’t have accepted Rogers offer to go on a week-long mission with him,” he confesses, embarrassed that he had let his emotions rather than his mind decide his actions for him. “But I guess I still have a few spare minutes before I’m expected at the jet.”

“You must’ve been really upset with me to volunteer to spend a week hiding out alongside Steve,” you tease him and he scoffs at this, muttering something along the lines of “you’re never going to let me live this down are you?” before connecting his lips with yours as a fire spreads inside your belly.

No further words are needed for him to explain what he wants you to do and you do it without questioning his motives, letting him lead the way towards the nearest table until your back hits the edge and he tells you to jump, his warm hands guiding you by your waist and onto the cold surface.

“So let me take care of you, baby girl,” he muses affectionately and you roll your eyes at the nickname, he’s such a sweet talker and yet in your most vulnerable hour it never ceases to get you on edge.

Everything is grey

His hair, his smoke, his dreams

And now he's so devoid of color

He don't know what it means

And he's blue

And he's blue

Tony never breaks the tenderness of the moment as he translates his words into a rhythmic dance of tongues and teeth, silently asking for permission to deepen the kiss when you swallow his moan, running your hands through his dark locks and tugging just a little harder than usual, followed by a guttural groan elicited by your legs lacing around his waist and pulling your hot core flush to his chest, his hips replying with an equal amount of arousal as he pushes your legs apart so you can feel how hard, ready and happy he is.

“Mister Stark,” Friday announces, disrupting the intimate mood and earning a frustrated growl from Tony and a disappointed whine from you. “Your presence is required immediately. It’s a direct order from Agent Rogers.”

“Cockblocker,” Tony mutters under his breath alongside a creative string of profanities which makes you snicker lightly, his playful-angry glare only pushing you further into your fit of giggles.

You part your arms, inviting him into a hug. “C’mere, my love.” Tony chuckles and pecks the top of your head tenderly to which you hum in appreciation.

“I’ll be back soon, darling,” he promises and you pucker your lips into a sad pout. He simply taps your nose before helping you slide off the table.

Chuckling darkly at an abrupt flash of inspiration, you elegantly hook your leg around his and lock him into place. “I’m counting on it,” you muse as your hand palms the delicate fabric of the enlarged bulge in his blue jeans. It makes him blush and you smile even more deviously. You shift your hips against his, grinding and massaging his full length with your clothed core.

“Y/N,” he threatens half-heartedly, “Don’t pull any tricks on me, you little minx, or you’ll never leave our bed again.”

Your voice drops a few octaves as you coo him with your seductive tone. “Now, now, that’s no way to address a lady. Please be polite to your fiancé, Tony.”

“You’re not my fiancé,” he replies dryly and you stop your ministrations, eyes changing into a look of shock. Tony flattens his hands against your back and the corners of his lips curl upwards into a smug smile. “You’re my soulmate.” Your skin is hot on his and every fibre of his being is amplified with love and adoration. “A piece of paper won’t change that, it’s just a formality to make sure you’re mine forever.” He’s looking down at you through a darkened gaze, breathing audibly.

You tug him towards your mouth, a subtle yet determined motion and you close your eyes when his lips relinquish your surroundings. Tony’s eyelids flutter closed as well and you join your fingers behind his neck, tilting your head to allow his tongue to run past your lips, granting him the access he so sought after and tending to your every need. His nose nuzzles against yours when you pull away and his voice is sultry when he speaks.

“Y/N Stark,” he purrs whilst licking his lips, “Sounds way better than Y/N Y/L/N, doesn’t it, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for a witty comeback, just going straight for the encore when he twirls you around and his laughter fills your ears with instant happiness, inspiring a boost of confidence and restoring your faith in a good outcome.

This is how it’s meant to be.

@mrshopkirk @winterboobaer @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @hardcorehippos @iiharu-kunii @knittingknerdy @winterwolf57 @dontbeamenacetotheforce  @shamvictoria11  @bovaria @marvel-lucy @mellifluous-melodramas @writing-soldiers @caplanbuckybarnes @avengerofyourheart @hymnofthevalkyries @the-silver-iris @you-and-bucky @austinamelio @pleasecallmecaptain @feelmyroarrrr @romanovoff @themcuhasruinedme @midnightloverslie @caplanbuckybarnes @james-bionic-barnes @callamint @ourpeachskies @beccaanne814-blog @unpredictable-firecracker @marvel-lucy @marvel-ash

[andrebooker7532]

Journey to an Award-Winning Software

We met up with Mr. Fortier, Founder and CEO of KLF Group, a Montreal-based, Canadian company that just won “Best Software as a Service (SaaS) Provider 2018” at this year’s Canadian HR Awards for its newest venture Applauz Recognition, to ask him how he feels about employee engagement and try to understand the reasons behind the success of his startup.

Your company, the KLF Group, just won “Best Service Provider” in the 2018 Canadian HR Awards for Applauz Recognition, your new employee engagement software. Firstly, congratulations! You must be very proud. But before talking about Applauz, can you tell me a bit more about how you first became an entrepreneur? Back in 2005, I was twenty-five years old then, I had just lived through a very successful exit working for a tech company and I was eager to get right back into the mix, that’s when I founded the KLF Group.

The first product we launched was Game Access, a subscription-based, online video game rental service. We were the first in Canada to provide such a service and we were quite successful and quickly became the biggest video game distribution service in the country.

Soon after, we were presented with a massive business opportunity when a Canadian bank asked us to become their sole fulfillment partner providing them with a video-game and electronic rewards catalog to supplement their customer loyalty program.

While working on the strategy to launch the Bank’s program, we realized how customer loyalty programs were undeserving their customers. We saw a weak product offering, overpriced merchandise, excessively long shipping times and almost no customer service. After we conducted a thorough SWOT analysis of the industry and how it was being serviced, we realized that all the reward distributors at the time were using a “sell-to-buy” points reward model essentially acting as a simple broker and providing no added value to their rewards program participants. The opportunity to disrupt the industry was made clear to us.

Once we understood how we could enter the market, we were determined to disrupt it entirely. So, in 2009, after extensively testing our logistics model we launched Loyalty Source, our first venture into the loyalty rewards industry. Our initial service offering was really simple. We wanted to provide a modern rewards catalogue filled with the most recognized brands, ship every order within 48 hours and offer impeccable customer service. The market responded favorably to our approach. I’m proud to say that, today, Loyalty Source is the biggest rewards fulfillment provider in Canada.

We didn’t stop there! We were hungry for more. While working in the loyalty and recognition space we again spotted an opportunity, a blue ocean if you will, the Employee Engagement industry had completely neglected to cater their services to small and medium-sized businesses (SMBs). Really. We must have looked through dozens of Employee Engagement software solutions at the time and found them all to be expensive, difficult to use and almost impossible to manage without a dedicated HR team. That’s how our next venture, Applauz Recognition, was born.

We developed Applauz in response to what we saw as a glaring oversight within the employee engagement industry. We realized that there were over 1 Million SMBs in Canada, all facing employee engagement issues to varying degrees, but they didn’t have the same budget as Fortune 500 companies to address them.

That’s when you came up with the idea to build Applauz? Because your customers had needs that the market couldn’t fill? Exactly! SMBs are vital to the Canadian economy since around 98% of all businesses have fewer than 100 employees! (source). Applauz was created to help SMBs build amazing work cultures where employees are rewarded, recognized and retained.

With Applauz, we set out on a mission of building a turn-key Software as a Service (SaaS) solution specifically designed for small and medium-sized businesses. So, we developed Applauz with all the most important and effective employee engagement features every business needs, without adding any of the over-engineered bells and whistles that other software vendors added to their programs. Applauz, by contrast, is extremely quick to implement and super easy to use, oh, and and it’s also ultra-affordable!

Tell me how you came up with Appy the Applauz mascot. Well, when we founded Applauz in 2017, we were wrapping our heads around our branding. We really wanted our product and logo to reflect the many things our software embodies: happiness, positivity, teamwork, technology, modernity — we wanted it to really appeal to business owners and come across friendly and inviting. I wanted a logo that stood out from the overused lower-case letter or star symbol we say the industry adopt as a de facto standard at the time.

After going through hundreds of design ideas our designers presented me with, I saw that friendly little robot, I knew that was it! We had found our mascot. That’s how “Appy”, our robot mascot was born.

Tell me about the feedback you get from Applauz customers, and what they think of your software. What are some of the things you hear most often? Good question! I often get people asking me “What’s the catch?”! (laughs). Usually, this question comes from business owners and HR executives when I tell them the software is free to use.

Another reaction I get oftentimes is surprise. Business owners and HR executives are taken aback by how easy it is to implement their employee engagement program with Applauz. They genuinely love the fact that everything is simple and intuitive. Really all they have to do is sign up, add their employees to the program and they’re good to go.

Is there already a specific type of SMB that registers? Not really. At first, were thought it would mostly be technology companies, but it wasn’t the case at all. We have municipal and federal government offices, NGOs, manufacturing companies, retail businesses, you name it! Applauz users are really diverse!

Now that you’ve won your second industry award since launching Applauz, do you see a difference in how the brand is being recognized or perceived by the industry? What’s next for Applauz? Absolutely. With Applauz we’ve set out to change the way managers and employees engage with each other every day. We believe that we can really help companies build extraordinary workplaces. It’s become our mission.

We’ve got a lot of projects going on. We’re now developing partnerships with other Human Resource software providers to make it even easier for business owners to use Applauz. We have great plans for Applauz. Our team is super motivated and their mission is nothing short of reinventing how companies value and support their internal cultures.

Last question: do you have advice for young entrepreneurs launching their own startup? It might seem cliché but just keep dreaming, and don’t be afraid to dream big! It’s about setting goals and striving to attain them. Success isn’t easy. It was never meant to be. Work hard, dream big, move forward.

One of my favorite quotes is by Vincent Lombardi: “we are going to relentlessly chase perfection, knowing full well we will not catch it, because nothing is perfect. But we are going to relentlessly chase it because in the process we will catch excellence.” And I can accept excellence (smiling).

Visit Applauz Recognition at : https://applauzrecognition.com

from personivt2c http://employeeengagement.ning.com/xn/detail/1986438:BlogPost:200971 via http://www.rssmix.com/