#i guarantee you there's only one sword of might around nobody's going to confuse it for someone else's sldkfjl

[balladetto]

this is definitely not what they intended when they said "the name link is engraved on [the sword]" but this video put the image directly into my head and i cannot stop thinking about it lsfkdjlf

[votederpycausemufins]

Alright, chapter 2 for the Summoning Family sequel ‘Surprisingly Familiar’. As you could see, I added a character that some of you may not know about, but was the first MCYTer I ever watched as he started uploading in mid 2010.

And now I finally decided to add him in since he knows a number of the hermits from other things he’s done. If you’re looking for stuff to watch, you could watch his old series to get some lore or just for fun.

anyway, onto the story.

“Alright Paul, what was that back there?!” Jrum heard through the door. “You’re the older one, where’s that older sibling wisdom of yours?”

“It’s trying to get rid of the spy and knowing to be careful around Xelqua. He was involved in the Tokyo High School Murders a number of years ago. That’s how I even knew about him to tell you about it.”

“You sent me a letter! That was important enough for you to call or something!”

“I couldn’t at the time. Besides, when he went missing, I thought it was because you found him and took him away, but it turns out he was off on his own doing who knows what.” Paul sighed. “Look, I know some of the hermits from Minecrack, and usually they help with things, but this is different. At the very least from what I’ve heard, the one guy named Iskall has been on the up and up, but Xelqua’s started a war!”

“Apparently actually two.”

“Phil, you know that’s worse. Some of the things the papers said… he should be in prison, not here.”

“Right, and how many times did you go to prison again?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s different. I was framed once, it was minor another time, and the rest was just from breaking out of prison so they put me back into a better one. They finally gave up when they didn’t have anything left I couldn’t escape.”

“Well I should show you Pandora’s Vault then.” Phil said, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Back on topic. You can’t treat Grian that way. You got all your information from newspapers but I’ve got some myself. It’s not like he’s the only one on my side of the family to cause wars. And whatever happened in Tokyo wasn’t something he wanted to do, I’ve seen the signs of it. So you’re going to go back in there, apologize, and leave unless they actually somehow want you to stay.”

“Wait, there’s one more thing you need to hear.”

“Oh really?” Phil asked sarcastically. “What the fuck could possibly be so important compared to everything else you did back there and needing to apologize for it?”

“Give me a second. Someone’s at the door. Might be the chicken.”

“I don’t think that spy is-” And then it was completely silent. Jrum was taken aback by that, testing the door, but it was locked. He tried enhancing his hearing, but that didn’t work either. Then, he tried to remember if there was anything he could get into the redstone of and hack, and he was pretty sure there was. So the bot made his way to the side of the room and found a line in, doing what he could to listen in.

“-because it makes sense. Punch is dangerous enough without his spies.” Jrum smiled as he heard Paul’s voice again. “If those guys keep showing up he might as well. I tried visiting you, but the place was abandoned and chickens were swarming the place.”

“Then you should have called!” Phil shouted, obviously sounding frustrated.

“Letters are the only guarantee I have. If you would just write back-”

“I’m not using magic paper unless I know who enchanted it.”

“Hoodie always enchants it!” Jrum mentally took note of the name, hoping someone else would know more about whoever that was

“How can I be sure?”

“How could I be sure you weren’t all dead when the caste was abandoned?”

“You could have fucking called!” And there was a slam which made Jrum jump, losing his connection to the room. He scrambled to reconnect, surprised to find he was having more trouble this time, but eventually, he did connect again.

“-ause Grian was taking care of it. I know you want to hate him, but maybe don’t freak out at just seeing him.”

“I’ll think about it Phil, but as long as Koka’s around, I’m going to be careful.”

“Wait, how do you know it’s name?” Phil asked, confused.

“You heard it hissing, didn’t you?” Paul asked. “That’s the only one he’s got that does that. That’s why I’m trying to be cautious.”

“Okay, I can sort of see why now. But can you please still try with Grian? He’s had a rough enough life as it is and you don’t need to make it worse.”

There was a sigh from Paul. “Alright, but you’ve also got to promise me something yourself.”

“And what’s that?”

“Maybe the person listening in can tell us, but if not, I’m going to see if-”

Jrum pulled away, cutting off what he was hearing. He scrambled to fix everything then run back to the party, trying to calm his breathing when he was finally back with everyone else.

.

.

.

Mumbo stood by as Grian kept setting up a comfort nest in Barge HQ. He was doing his best to keep the bots’ pet chicken from getting in Grian’s way, but that ended up with plenty of pecking targeting his arms and legs. If he hadn’t recognized the red on the bird’s beak as redstone dust left on his suit, he would have panicked thinking it was blood. Or maybe it was, so he quickly checked.

The redstoner didn’t seem to have wounds that drew blood, which was good, but he did take his eyes off of Kokatori, who was nearly at Grian’s nest of blankets. Mumbo quickly ran over and picked the bird up, looking around to see if he could get some sort of cage for it. There wasn’t really, but there were glass windows. So he simply used a few blocks to keep the chicken in place, glad it wasn’t left completely in the dark.

Sighing about taking care of the problem, Mumbo looked back over to Grian, who was still fiddling with blankets even though the nest looked complete. “Grian?” Mumbo tried to ask softly, but the avian still jumped at the speech. “Sorry for startling you. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Like crap. There’s not a lot of good stuff from growing up after I went missing. Sure, there’s stuff here and there, but a lot of it after everything that’s happened is just tainted. And now it’s getting worse, like finding out d- Phil started acting worse to Tommy, and now apparently one tv show that is partially responsible for me being alive was made by my uncle who knew about me and hates my guts.”

Mumbo put a hand on Grian’s back, the currently puffed up wings ruffling a bit before calming back down a little bit. “Well, he seems to know a good number of the other hermits. I’m sure they can change his mind about you.” Then Mumbo stepped over the wall of blankets to sit next to Grian. “And they may know him and be his friends, but last I checked, he hasn’t been around for a bit any you definitely have. Even Xisuma has called you the missing puzzle piece of the hermits. Without you, it just doesn’t feel right.”

Grian smiled a little and leaned on Mumbo’s shoulder. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

Mumbo nodded, then paused for a moment to ask a question. “You said he’s part of the reason you’re alive?”

Grian nodded. “He had a survival show. He used stuff from knives to swords to guns. The one I had to use wasn’t really legally obtained and so there wasn’t an instruction manual.”

“Grian, are you telling me you watched a tv show to learn how to use a… a firearm?”

Grian smiled. “Yep! And some other stuff as well. You’ll never know how many ways I know how to dispose of a body.”

Mumbo stared wide eyed at the builder, who was giving a mischievous little smile. “Grian. Grian you’re joking, right?” He didn’t stop smiling or even answer. “Grian, please tell me that’s a joke! Grian!”

As they continued to talk, Kokatori finished pecking at the glass, having cut a rough circle into it. The bird held a foot up and pushed the area, the cut portion breaking away cleanly and falling to the ground far below.

The chicken waited, trying to see if anyone had heard the sound and would react, but that didn’t seem to be the case. With that taken care of, it jumped out of the window, gliding down to the ground. It landed right near the entrance to Jrum’s party building, landing on the ledge of a window. Kokatori looked inside and saw the various party members. The first robot seemed to be fine, the second one more nervous. Odd, what did it have to be nervous about? But then the chicken saw Paul and that ‘brother’ of his were back in the room. Well, maybe the second robot was more of an asset.

The chicken carefully walked over to Jrum, carefully pecking his leg to get his attention. It didn’t want to scare him since it had seen that Jrum wasn’t the most fond of it, but it was surprised to see Jrum gladly pick it up. “Oh, you’re not supposed to be in here! That new person doesn’t like chickens like you, so let’s go outside.”

Kokatori held in a hiss. Great, it was just going to be put back outside. But at the very least the robot was picking it up without looking sick or something. When they were back outside, Kokatori expected to be set down or even dropped, but instead it was spun around so it was looking right at Jrum.

“Alright then. You’re not a normal chicken. So what are you?” Jrum asked, interrogating the chicken. “I mean, it’s obvious they’re right about you being some sort of spy, but there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Kokatori didn’t know if chickens could sweat, but it sure felt like it was right then. But it tried not to show how anxious it was and just clucked.

“I’m taking that as a yes because it doesn’t sound as bad as a no. The new guy knows your name. Nobody told him your name but he knew it. And said you were ‘his’ chicken.” Jrum said, remembering what he had listened to. “He said that was because of your hissing and that you’re the only one that does that. And as far as I know, he’s right and chickens don’t hiss.”

If Kokatori wasn’t sweating before, it was now. Normally that would be filtered out by the mind. Of course that king and his brother knew enough to resist it, but no one else seemed to notice until now this thing. So, it used the foolproof plan of clucking again.

“Right, they don’t, so why are you?” Jrum asked. Alright, clucking had not worked. It hadn’t worked at all. This was bad. But it could be fixed, right? The robot didn’t like chickens because of… because of… right! Because of eggs! So Kokatori quickly had an egg pop out, which was enough to spook the robot and make them run off. Which was good. He didn’t need to take a closer look.

With no one around, Kokatori stomped on the egg, breaking the dark green and cream spotted shell. No one needed to see that. There were already two people around here that knew what was going on, and that was already too many.

It looked back up at the building it had fallen from. It would be easy enough to get back to the top. It just hoped its short escape wouldn’t be noticed. It grabbed the piece of glass it had let fall to the ground, thankfully unbroken, and started climbing up the outside of the building.

Kokatori reached its pitiful excuse for a prison and put the piece of glass back. It clucked a little to remind the two people it was still there, but they mostly ignored it. That was fine. It had work to do anyway.

.

.

.

Tommy watched Paul as he walked over to Xisuma. Sure, he had heard of his uncle from Phil here and there. Mostly complaining about lack of contact and too many letters, which were complete opposites, but it was back when Tommy wasn’t really the loud teen he was today, still affected by how his family looked down on him for unknowingly being too much like his missing brother.

If Grian had been there and told him to suck it up, Tommy’s sure he would. It would be very reluctant, but it was Grian, who was like the one family member he still had a good standing with. Well, obviously also the bots. And Mumbo sort of counted. And all the hermits were honorary family. But he meant in the official sense.

But Grian wasn’t here, specifically because of Paul. And since Tommy was only really okay with Grian, it made him more wary of this being another family member that was going to put him down. If that was going to be the case, he at least had support this time, so Tommy walked over to Paul, trying to look tough.

The teen heard the tail end of Paul’s conversation with Xisuma, trying to get any information he could. “-believe I can think of one or two things he could help with. I’ve tried with Scar and Cub, but they’re more free spirits.”

Paul nodded, then looked over as he noticed Tommy coming over. “Oh hey Tommy. Just talking with the admin here.”

“Yeah, just fucking call him Xisuma. None of that formal title shit.” Tommy said with venom in his voice.

Paul was a bit taken aback, but Xisuma had some clue on what was going on. “Tommy spent some time in a world with a… not so great admin. It affected his first meeting with me, and while we’ve helped out, recent events have brought up old wounds.”

Paul nodded like he understood completely and didn’t even try to argue. “Yeah, not every world has great people in charge. I’m not sure how long I spent making sure the worlds my kids were going to were safe. A few bad ones slipped through the cracks and have left me feeling horrible, so I can’t imagine how Phil must feel about missing one.”

Tommy scoffed. “He probably didn’t care about me getting in trouble. And Techno was fine on his own. Wilbur’s probably the only one he cared about.”

Paul frowned at that. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Before he could say more, Tommy stopped him. “Oh really? He doesn’t really even care about you. Wil wrote him letters all the time and he read those. That’s why he even showed up to our world finally. But he didn’t read any of your fucking letters obviously.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure it was just-”

“It wasn’t just anything. Phil’s just a crap parent and looks like you’re pretty bad too.”

Xisuma slowly stepped away. He knew it wasn’t the best idea to get in Tommy’s way when he was yelling. Because normally that’s all it was, just yelling. If either person drew a weapon, then it was time to step in, but they had learned that Tommy was loud in general and yelled to get his frustration out.

“What would make you think that?”

“I mean, the way you acted to Grian. Did you have to be such a bitch about it?”

Paul sighed. “I’m not sure how much he’s told you about that world. It was-”

“Hardcore world, no respawns, ghosts existed, Grian got kept hostage by a friend and was abused a lot. If my admin was bad to me, this guy was somehow worse to Grian. Plus, I’m so fucking glad you wrote a letter to Phil and assumed Grian was fine when he disappeared. You could have fucking gone over and checked on him yourself bitch!”

“I was sort of on the other side of the world. And I also didn’t really have the time.”

“Then you could have made some fucking time! It was a family emergency and there was a murder involved. Anyone would let you off for that! I bet you just had a cushy life and couldn’t bother to lift a finger.”

Paul didn’t respond. He didn’t have a good answer. And even if he did, Tommy didn’t want to hear it. The teen stomped away, saying goodbye to everyone, though he specifically left Phil and Paul out of his goodbyes. Then he flew back to his ‘still just borrowing this’ base that was Grian’s old starter base and curled up in bed, pulling Tubbee into his arms.

He pressed his face into their fluff, muttering a few curses, the bee not having a care in the world about what was going on. It was just there to help give Tommy some comfort. Sure, he could always call Tubbo over and have him visit, but he didn’t have the energy and this was good enough.

Soon enough, Tommy was asleep, having worn himself out from both the party and shouting at Paul. He slept so much, he didn’t even wake up when he was poked a few times. Or when his face was drawn on. Or even when some TNT went off. It definitely had Tubbee awake, but it was still in his arms and couldn’t fly off.

“Aww, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill him. That would tell people I’m here silly! My little pumpkin roll already made sure no one knows I came in, but he can’t do much with me actually here.” Tubbee buzzed a bit, earning a giggle from the visitor. “You know, maybe I can get my boys a pet. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I took Rusty, now would he?”

The bee wasn’t able to respond, and despite Tommy being asleep, he rolled onto his other side, pulling Tubbee with him. “Oh, maybe I’ll see you later. But I’ve got to go find something now. Bye!”

[semi-occasionally-writing-stuff]

Of Bullets & Blood - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Summary

C.C. Tinsley. A preacher’s son. Now a bounty hunter who will do whatever it takes to find who killed his wife and son.

Ricky Goldsworth. A former samurai running from his past. Now a bounty hunter trying to stay honourable in a land riddled with crime.

At first glance, these men were opposites in every way. However, through betrayal, blood, corruption, and the crimes of a serial killer, they will find that they have much more in common than they first expected.

Western/Samurai AU!

Chapter 2 - The Meeting of Two Minds

C.C. Tinsley was not a patient man. If there was a job the needed to be done, he would do it straight away using the method that would guarantee his success and survival. This general rule could at times cause him to make ruthless decisions in his line of work, but this didn’t bother him much. He had abandoned his principles a long time ago.

So, when he entered the Sheriff’s office and spotted a bounty of $50 for Billy Nelson aka the Axeman, he would be a fool not to take it.

“I know that poster says dead or alive Tinsley, but I’d like to see if you’re capable of bringing a bounty in without pulling the trigger or leaving a pile of dead bodies,” Goondis drawled.

Goondis never approved of Tinsley’s methods. Although the man never broke the law, he was reckless in his eyes and did the job without an ounce of honour or respect. Turning in one too many criminals with gunshot wounds to the back of their bodies told him everything he needed to know.

“Don’t know why you’re getting all upset. You’re just going to hang the man anyway. You should be thankful that I’m saving you a job,” Tinsley answered as he pocketed the poster and walked out. He then got on his horse and rode straight for Nelson’s house, he didn’t want to give other bounty hunters any time to get there first.

Tinsley had been doing this job for 5 years. He knew that if you gave people a chance in this line of work, they’d only turn and stab you in the back. This often meant that if you wanted to see tomorrow, then it was best to act before they had the chance to think of their next move. It had built him a reputation, sometimes it helped but other times it made jobs much bloodier than they needed to be.

By the time Ricky arrived at the Sheriff’s office, Goondis was polishing his rifle with a sour look on his face.

“Get your ass to Macombe’s End and bring Nelson in. Quickly,” he grumbled as he tossed to poster to Ricky.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

“C.C. Tinsley rode off to take him in a few minutes ago. He’s been taking bounties for years, but I don’t trust the man. He’s ruthless, disrespectful and a coward. Won’t be too surprised if I find out that he’s killing all the dead or alive bounties in cold blood. I’ve never received so many with bullet holes in their backs, a real man would look them in the eye” Goondis spat.

Ricky nodded, making a mental note to watch his back when he went for Nelson. From the way the Sheriff spoke about him, he wouldn’t be too surprised if Tinsley shot him in the back just so he could be the one to take the Axeman in.

With this in mind, Ricky rode to the outskirts of Macombe’s End and slowly walked towards the house, scanning every possible ambush spot as he was expecting to be shot at any second.

Tinsley was also expecting a surprise attack of sorts but didn’t quite anticipate the swing of an axe knocking the gun out of his hand as he rounded the corner into the Axeman’s living room.

“Well, shit Nelson! You better not have scratched that! I don’t want to be paying for it using your bounty money, I have better things to spend it on,” Tinsley exclaimed, panic levels slowly rising as he saw that the man was so much bigger than him.

Nelson grabbed Tinsley by the throat and lifted him off the ground, “You won’t need to worry about that. I’m thinking about doing some redecorating. A nice decapitated head on the porch should look nice, don’t you think?”

“It’s a bit extreme, a rocking chair would look much nicer you know? But then again, I’m not too sure what the Bigfoot race use to decorate their homes or… Jesus when was the last time you washed?” Tinsley wheezed as he tried to pry his hands from his neck.

Tinsley realised that may not have been the smartest thing to say in his position, but he’d be damned if he never antagonised the killer that parted his head from his body.

“How ‘bout we take this outside?” Nelson snarled.

Tinsley barely had enough time to respond before he was thrown head first through the living room window and landed roughly on the wooden porch. Pain blossomed from his head and shoulder and then quickly spread into his neck and through his back. Hearing Nelson’s footsteps get louder, he grabbed the wooden railing and hauled himself back onto his feet.

Nelson rounded the corner with his axe wearing a snarl on his face. Before Tinsley could throw another insult, Nelson swept his axe to the side, trying to cut Tinsley’s head off from where he stood. Tinsley leapt back at the last second and watched as the axe embedded itself into the cabin’s wall, splinters flying everywhere.

Tinsley realised he needed to find a way back into the house to get his gun. He ungracefully scrambled over the railing, caught his foot at the top and fell straight into the dirt.

“Not my proudest moment,” Tinsley mumbled to himself as he started to pick himself up.

But before he could, a sharp pain exploded in his left side and he was thrown over onto his back. Tinsley’s heart dropped as he saw Nelson standing over him with a wicked smile.

“You’re right, a rocking chair with your decapitated body holding your head in your hands would look nice. Thanks for the tip,” he chuckled as he swung back his axe, but before he brought the axe down, a voice rung out.

“Turn around and fight me!” Ricky yelled as he drew his katana.

Tinsley and Nelson exchanged a confused look before he slowly lowered his axe.

“The fuck are you doing?” Tinsley yelled, completely baffled to why a man would bring a sword to an axe fight when a gun would end things so much quicker.

Ricky ignored the bearded stranger, solely focusing on the Axeman and his movements, “Get off the man, and face me. Or are you too much of a coward?”

Nelson laughed in surprise. Out of all the people he expected to turn up, he could not have imagined a man in a simple shirt and trousers holding a katana commanding him to fight.

“Alright then. Let’s jazz it!” he yelled as he stepped over Tinsley.

Now Tinsley could do the smart thing and let this crazy stranger fight Nelson, which might give him enough time to grab his gun. However, he could not push the doubt away. The man was small. To him there was a good chance that he’d be taken down before Tinsley was able to hobble his way over back into the house. Even then Tinsley didn’t want some poor fools death on his conscience.

So instead he settled on a bad idea and kicked Nelson in the nuts as he stepped over him, causing him to fall straight onto the floor. Ignoring how his body protested, Tinsley climbed on top of the man and punched him as hard as he could, feeling his nose crunch under his fist. But before he could hit him again, Nelson flipped Tinsley over onto his back, leaning over him.

“I’ve really had quite enough at this,” he spat.

Ricky shook off his surprise at how stupid Tinsley was being and quickly ran over to the pair. He made eye contact with Nelson for a split second, his eyes widening in surprise and panic, he knew he was out numbered and was growing desperate. He reached for his axe, but Ricky’s boot swiftly met the side of Nelson’s head, knocking him out instantly.

Tinsley rolled Nelson off him, sighed in relief and let his head thump against the dirt, “That was a bit theatrical, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, nobody is dead at least…you okay friend?”

“We ain’t friends,” Tinsley drawled

Ricky sheathed his katana, “Then what are we?”

Tinsley slowly picked himself off the floor. He noted that the floor was slightly swaying beneath him, pain was still running down from his head to his shoulder, which was most certainly going to be bruised later and there was a dull ache in the side of his hip.

“I don’t know, a couple of assholes maybe?”

“Speak for yourself.”

Tinsley sighed as he walked back into the house, careful not to show any sign that he was finding it difficult to stand and walk properly. He gingerly picked up his silver revolver and leaned against the door frame, observing the stranger as he checked his gun.

“Okay. An asshole and a stuck-up prick, how ‘bout that?”

Ricky smirked; he had met too many men like him back home. They usually ended up dead, “You are trying to make me angry, but all I feel right now is a strong sense of pity. Goondis was right about you.”

Tinsley’s jaw tightened and felt a wave of anger flow through him. He could deal with pre-conceived judgements on his character, he had learned to use them to his advantage, but pity is something he had grown to despise ever since his mother passed when he was a child.

“And what was he right about?”

“You’re a cold, aggressive man without honour.”

Tinsley laughed bitterly, “Being honourable is a good way to get killed. I have folk that I need to deal with before I can lie 6 ft underground.”

“And what kind of folk would that be?”

“Bad ones. You try fighting a beast with honour and see how well you do. I guarantee you’ll have your throat ripped out before you’re even finished commanding it to fight you. Why didn’t you cut that bastard in half when you had the chance?”

“It wasn’t right to. I also didn’t want to ruin your brown coat with his blood, despite all the dirt that it’s covered in already.”

“Aww, how considerate of you. You say that to all the men?” Tinsley crooned.

Ricky blushed and tried to suppress the smile that was tugging at his lips. Instead deciding to distract himself and started to tie the axeman up.

Tinsley could tell he was new at this, naïve and filled with a sense of duty, “So sword man-”

“It’s a katana.”

“Whatever it is, frankly, I don’t really care. I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”

“Ricky Goldsworth. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ricky answered, crossing his arms across his chest.

Tinsley grimaced as he carefully walked from the house down to Ricky. He gripped his gun a little tighter “Likewise. So, since I was here first, I’m taking him in. You can have 15% if you beg for it.”

“I don’t beg. Take him and keep the money, I’ll come with you to make sure he is delivered alive,” Ricky exhaled, not fully convinced that Tinsley wouldn’t just shoot Nelson before he brought him to the Sheriff.

“Fine…but you’re staying at least 10 paces in front of me. I don’t feel like getting stabbed today,” he grunted as they whistled for their horses.

The ride to the Sheriff’s office was silent. Both of the men keeping an eye on one another. Expecting some sort of attack.

They tied up their horses outside and Tinsley hauled the man off his horse and onto his good shoulder.

“I’ll wait here, make sure our horses are okay” Ricky said as he got some food out of his horse’s bag.

“If you steal my horse, I will fucking shoot you Goldsworth.”

Ricky rolled his eyes, “Good to know. Stealing an Arabian horse with such skinny legs sounds like a great idea, especially when they break so easily.”

Tinsley started walking up to the Sheriff’s office, “Their legs won’t break if you don’t ride like an irresponsible maniac, makes sense that you have a Shire. Matches your reckless will to get yourself axed.”

He kicked the door open and threw Nelson down by the entrance to the cells, “You order an Axeman?”

Goondis jumped up from his chair, expecting blood to be oozing onto his floorboards and inspected the man, feeling his pulse, “He’s alive?!”

“Yes. I’ve brought you live ones before, granted the poster said they had to be to get paid.”

Goondis slowly shook his head in disbelief, “I’m not giving you the money.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t capture this man,” Goondis growled.

“What makes you say that?”

“You would’ve brought me a corpse if you had!”

“Do you want me to take him out back and shoot him? I’d happily do that for you as long as I get my $50,” Tinsley challenged.

It was quiet for a moment. Both of them staring at one another. Waiting for someone to break. After a moment Tinsley took a step forward towards Nelson and the Sheriff relented.

He took the money out of his drawer and threw it at him, “Fine. Take your damn money and get the hell out.”

“Oh, don’t be so angry Sheriff, you know you’ll have fun hanging him. I’ve seen that look in many killers’ eyes. We both know you are not the saint that you pretend to be.”

The Sheriff reminded Tinsley too much of his father who was a preacher in Texas. After his mother died, his father would wear a kind and warm façade when standing in front of God but at home he was a vengeful and angry drunk. But with the Sheriff, there was also more to it than that. Every time there was a hanging. As soon as the neck snapped. He could see a how much he enjoyed watching people die. To him, the Sheriff pretended to be a good man. He was just as bad as the people he put away.

Goondis sighed and shook his head, “I never claimed to be a saint and I certainly do not enjoy watching those poor souls die. But I do what I have to do to keep people safe and these fine folks clearly trust me since I’ve been in this position longer than you can count. It is my duty to bring people to justice. But I know that the concept of duty is lost on you since you are only motivated by the money. Now, stop running your mouth and get the hell out my office.”

Tinsley smirked and started to leave, a part of him enjoyed seeing the man trying to force him to believe the trustworthy image he projects, “You can’t fool everyone, Sheriff. The truth will come out sooner or later.”

After the door shut on the Sheriff, he let out a sigh of relief. Goondis knew what had happened to Tinsley’s wife and son. Even 5 years on there were still theories being passed around about who did it. Most people believed Tinsley had lost his temper and killed them himself. The Sheriff was inclined to agree with them. Goondis was afraid that Tinsley would use his gun as a problem solver to either end his own life or gun him down in cold blood.

Ricky had just finished brushing Tinsley’s horse as he limped down the stairs. He noticed that Tinsley was tense and had a slightly crazed look in his eye.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Perfectly fine. How’s my wonderful horse Holly doing?” Tinsley hummed as he patted the side of her face.

“She’s great. You seem to take good care of her.”

Tinsley nodded and climbed onto his saddle, “She’s the only one who’d say that.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow, “She also told me you stink of horse shit.”

“Fuck you. I hope to never see you again Goldsworth, you’re a pain in the ass.”

Ricky nodded, noting that he looked much more relaxed now, “I kind of saved your life so how about a thank you next time.”

Tinsley paused, considering his options for a moment. However, he refused to give him the satisfaction, “How ‘bout no.”

Tinsley then rode off towards own his camp in the woods. Leaving Ricky to get hit by the chunks of mud that his horse kicked behind her.

As Tinsley stoked his fire that evening. He tried to figure Goldsworth out. Every time he came across another bounty hunter after he caught the criminal, they’d try to blow his brains out and steal the bounty themselves. The fact he escorted him back to town without trying anything was suspicious. He was convinced Ricky Goldsworth was up to something and hoped he didn’t cross paths with him again.

But Tinsley had been alive long enough to know things never go the way he wanted them to.

[thewhumperinwhite]

Café: Treetops

Previous: Teaser 1, Teaser 2, Hospital/Squad Car, Empty Bar, Used Car Lot 1, Used Car Lot 2, Gas Station, Roadside 1, Roadside 2, Forest

TW for: illness/fever, mention of decapitation/murder, smoking mention, very lightly implied parental neglect, Thing That Seems Like Deadnaming For A Second But Take This As My Personal Guarantee That Sol’s Deadname Will Never Be Said Out Loud In This Story.

Also i’m not gonna check but i think this might be the first chapter where Sol smiles? so look forward to that.

@whumpitywhumpwhump

----

Rainwater is dripping from Sol’s hair down the bridge of his nose and soaking into his shirt collar, even though if you asked him five minutes ago he’d have told you his poor abused work shirt had absorbed literally all the liquid it could physically hold. 

“Just for the record,” Kent says in a slightly breathless voice, “when I used the phrase ‘huddled in trees,’ that was sarcasm.”

Sol thinks about rolling his eyes, but given that nobody would see it from this angle, he doesn’t bother and just leaves his eyes closed instead.

“Funny,” Pax snaps, sounding, at least, no longer pretend-cheerful. “When I told you to shut the fuck up, I was serious.” Sol can hear them shifting, but doesn’t turn to look, partly because he does not care and partly because he thinks he might fall out of the tree if he tries.

“I think you should both shut up,” he says flatly, knowing he’s wasting his fucking breath.

It does earn him almost a full minute of silence, which is a step up, technically.

“The bleeders are too clumsy to climb trees,” Pax says testily, apparently unable to help themself. “Therefore, being the wonderful, coordinated living beings that we are, we are taking advantage of that weakness.”

“I know that,” Kent says, also sounding slightly testy, but even more tired and kind of in pain. “I am aware of the logic, but I gotta say that I am not feeling super coordinated at the moment.”

“I know that,” Sol growls. “I was the one who had to help you up, and since we are all fuckin’ exhausted from that little ordeal, how about we all just go the fuck to sleep, huh?”

Kent makes a noise that is probably supposed to convey irritation but just sounds sort of— pathetic. “I can’t sleep. I don’t understand how either of you can sleep when it’s so hot up here.”

Sol blinks his eyes open. That— does not sound like a great sign.

Careful not to overbalance and throw himself off the narrow branch currently supporting his ass, Sol cranes around the trunk of the tree to squint through the driving rain at Kent, who is leaning back against the tree with his eyes closed. Sol half-carried him up this bigass goddamn tree and set him with more care than he wants to admit in the stablest position he could find, at the fork of two large branches, but at the moment his perch there looks kind of precarious.

Checking to see that Paxon, on the opposite side and several branches higher than either himself of Kent, probably can’t see— not that he cares what they think— he leans carefully forward to lay his wrist against Kent’s forehead. It’s hard to be sure of anything when the freezing rain has turned his hands and arms into icicles, but the heat coming off Kent’s face almost makes him jump.

“Aw, great,” he mumbles, grabbing hold of his own branch so he can lean forward a little more to examine Kent’s face, which, now that he’s looking, does have kind of a greenish cast to it. “Hey, man,” he says softly, giving Kent a gentle poke on a part of his cheekbone that doesn’t seem to be bruised yet. “How ya feeling?”

Without opening his eyes, Kent heaves a tired sigh that turns halfway through into a cough. Sol freezes like a popsicle, going very quickly back over the last several hours to try and determine whether one of the bleeders could possibly have bitten him without Sol noticing— but Kent’s brief coughing fit fails to bring up any red-flecked phlegm, so Sol tries to reel in his panic. He doesn’t sound crazy, anyway— just sick. 

“Not very good,” Kent croaks, letting his eyes drift open. They look kinda glassy, but Sol sees with knee-weakening relief that they are not particularly bloodshot. “Too warm. And also shivery.”

“I fuckin’ bet,” Sol says. “You look like microwaved dogshit, dude.”

Sol chews his lip, something uncomfortably close to worry churning in his stomach. When he doesn’t move away, Kent laughs faintly, though it turns into a cough at the end.

“You sure you want to get that close?” he asks, smiling a little, though it doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. Sol doesn’t think Kent’s smiles usually do, actually.

Sol blinks. “Huh?”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll suddenly decide to take a bite out of your arm?” Kent says, and it sounds like it’s trying to be a joke but isn’t quite making it.

Sol stares at him for a second. Then he snorts.

“Please,” Sol says, smirking. “You? I could definitely take you, crazy or not, you fucking stick. Besides, look.” Sol fishes around in the pockets of his sopping-wet jacket, ignoring Kent’s look of utter confusion.

His lighter is freezing and dripping wet, and who knows if it’ll still work as an actual lighter after this, but it makes a serviceable mirror, in a pinch. He holds it up so that Kent is blinking into his own wide blue eyes.

“See?” Sol says, and is surprised at the softness of his own voice. “Not a drop of blood in sight, man. You’re probably just feverish from running around in the mud with open cuts and stuff.”

“Heartening,” Kent says, reaching up to change the angle of Sol’s grip.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Sol says, smirking.

And then Sol suddenly realizes that Kent’s hand is wrapped loosely around his own, and is horrified to feel his own cheeks heating up, which is--so fucking stupid.

“Who’s ‘Rina’?” he asks curiously, blinking down at the lighter, and Sol starts badly, jerking his hand away like Kent’s question burns his fingers.

“No one,” he barks, shoving the lighter back into his pocket, leaving Kent with his hand still outstretched and lips parted slightly in surprise.

“Oh,” Kent says, blinking. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to— “ He pulls back, looking carefully anywhere but at Sol’s face. “Sorry.”

Sol stares at Kent. Kent stares at the unnervingly-far-away ground.

Goddammit, it’s like kicking a puppy.

“Ugh,” Sol growls, running a hand through his hair. “Look, fine, whatever, don’t look at me like that— Karine is my little sister, okay? She always hated it when I smoked, so she used to steal my lighter all the time. That’s why it’s— that’s why.”

He had been very mad at the time, in high school at some point, when he had finally wrestled his lighter back from her— after almost a week of searching and shouting half-hearted threats at her when their father wasn’t home, which was often— only to find that she had scratched Sol Sux Shit on one side and her own big girly signature on the other, with a big fucking heart around it. He didn’t talk to her for a few days after that.

He didn’t throw the lighter away, though, either. That was junior year, or thereabouts; he’d been Sol for a short enough time that seeing the name scratched permanently into metal was--something, even if it was followed by the words “sux shit.”

It’s been— Christ, almost four years since he’s seen her, which means she’s all grown up and definitely has at least two boyfriends by now. That thought makes him unconsciously ball up his fists, and then he’s distracted by the sound of Kent laughing at him.

“Wha— what are you laughing at?” Goddammit, is he blushing again?

“I’m s-sorry,” Kent says, amid honest-to-god giggles. “I-it’s just— your face—!”

Sol just barely resists the urge to cover his cheeks, trying to will the heat back out of them. “Sh-shut up, I was just—” He pulls up short. “H-hey— are you okay?”

Kent is doubled up with hard, damp-sounding coughs, so much so that Sol has to dart out a hand to keep him from falling forward off the branch.

“Kent— hey—”

As he’s readjusting himself to hold up Kent’s weight without falling off his own branch, there’s a rustling in the branches above them, and Paxon Field drops abruptly onto the end of Kent’s branch, like an enormous pink cat.

“Let me see your hand,” they say sharply. When Kent doesn’t immediately respond, they reach forward to tug his hand away from his face.

“Hey!” Sol snaps, trying to shove them back, “what the hell are you—”

“Shut up,” Pax says, turning Kent’s hand over so they can examine both sides. Finding no blood on it, they relax, their hand sliding off the hilt of their sword.

“Idiot,” they say, not unkindly, and reach up to lay their wrist against Kent’s forehead. Kent, his coughing fit finally starting to subside, lets them, his weight pressing into Sol’s chest in a way that is— neither embarrassing nor pleasant but in fact entirely neutral, fuck you. Pax sighs. “You’re burning up, you dumbass.”

“That’s not exactly his fault,” Sol snaps, to his own surprise more than anyone else’s. Pax raises their eyebrows at him. Kent’s eyes flutter shut. “Well,” Sol goes on, into Pax’s surprised stare. “We’ve been wandering around in the rain for a long time. He’s got— broken bones and stuff.”

Paxon gives Sol a look he can’t quite read, and then frowns down at Kent, whose cheek now sits just under Sol’s collarbone, like coughing has used up all his remaining energy. “How long have you been feelin’ the shivers, sunshine?” they bark.

Grumbling like an annoyed child, Kent turns away from Paxon, which involves burying his face against the sodden front of Sol’s shirt. Sol freezes, a violent electrical current making its way up his spine. When Kent mumbles his answer (which is unintelligible but seems to contain the words “the car”), Sol can feel his lips move against his chest, and would readjust if he could move. ...probably.

“Then it’s entirely your fault, you daft idiot,” Paxon snaps, annoyed. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

Kent turns back, opening one blue eye. “I suppose,” he says coldly, “I was worried you’d decapitate me.”

Paxon, to Sol’s surprise, starts like they’ve been hit. There’s a very awkward silence. Sol is afflicted with a bizarre desire to laugh.

Then Paxon growls, long and low, and starts their descent out of the tree.

“Uh,” Sol calls after them. “Where are you going?”

“To get sunshine some medicine, I guess,” they shout back, bitterly. “Since neither of you is in any way equipped for survival, apparently.”

Sol stares down at the top of their head as they make their weirdly nimble way down out of the tree. Then he looks down at Kent, who is also frowning down at Paxon’s retreating form.

“Someone should go with them,” Kent mutters.

Sol shifts uncomfortably. “You can’t stay in this tree by yourself.”

An embarrassed flush makes its way into Kent’s pale cheeks, and he shoots Sol an apologetic look from under his lashes. Sol’s brain stops working for a second and he misses what Kent says next, but makes an educated guess that it’s some variation of “sorry for the trouble.”

“Don’t be dumb,” he says, biting his lip.

Sol runs through their options in his head, and from the unhappy look on Kent’s face he suspects the blonde is doing the same.

“Fuck,” Sol mutters, and then, making sure Kent has a firm grip on the tree trunk to go with the confused look on his face, turns himself very carefully around on his own branch so his back is to Kent, the blonde’s bony knees digging into his back slightly.

“Um,” Kent says.

“Shut up,” Sol snaps. “Put your arms around my shoulders. Try not to choke me or we will both fall and die.”

“Um,” says Kent.

Sol takes a moment to bury his rapidly-reddening face in his hands and groan because why does shit like this keep happening to him. “Paxon shouldn’t go by themself, and you can’t stay here or climb down. This is the only fucking solution, okay? I don’t like it anymore than you do, so shut up and get on.”

There’s another terrible silence, which Sol uses to pray to anybody who might be listening to give him a fucking break already.

Moving carefully, like he’s waiting for Sol to stop him, Kent slides his slim arms around Sol’s shoulders, knitting his fingers together around Sol’s chest and being careful to avoid his windpipe. After a moment’s hesitation, he moves closer, awkwardly scooting forward so his legs are wrapped around Sol’s waist.

Sol, very aware of Kent’s chest and biceps and thighs, clears his throat loudly.

“Okay,” he says, trying his very best to sound businesslike. “I need my hands to do the tree-climbing thing, so hold on, yeah?”

Sol can feel the heat coming off of Kent’s face where it’s buried against his shoulder even through the thick wool of his jacket, though he can’t tell how much of that is the fever and how much is embarrassment roughly equivalent— if there is a loving god— to his own.

“Yeah,” Kent mumbles miserably into Sol’s jacket. Sol feels a slightly insane giggle building in his chest. 

“Okay,” Sol says slowly. “I am now moving to the next branch over. You good?”

“Perfect,” Kent says in a very muffled voice, and shifts slightly against Sol’s back. Sol clears his throat again, and reaches out for the next branch, shifting so that he’s carrying most of Kent’s weight.

“Christ, do you ever eat?” he says before they can stop himself. God, maybe they will make it to the ground, after all. “My sister’s cat weighs more than you.”

Kent, his face very warm indeed, chooses not to respond. In fact, he keeps his mouth mercifully shut for almost the whole awkward, painful climb down, and Sol’s left foot is actually on solid ground when he finally mumbles, so low Sol can’t be entirely sure of the words, “Thanks, Sol. You’re wonderful.”

Sol freezes with one foot still on the lowest branch, feeling an unfamiliar sort of heat spreading in the center of his chest. Before he can stop it, his mouth twitches into something that feels suspiciously like a grin.

The feeling fades pretty quickly when he turns and sees the color Pax is turning from trying to hold in their amusement. Seeing Sol’s fiery glare and immediate, violent blush, they give up and throw their head back, sending bright peals of laughter up into the still-raining sky.

Sol bristles, his hands tightening under Kent’s thighs. “Sh-shut up! Don’t— don’t laugh at me!”

Pax laughs hard, holding their stomach. “Your face!” they crow delightedly. “You’re turning purple, babe!”

Sol’s blush doesn’t get any worse, but probably only because there’s no more blood left in the rest of him. “Shut up!” he squawks. “It’s your fault for leaving us up there, anyway!”

Pax shakes their head, grinning. “I didn’t say you had to come with me,” they point out. 

“Kent didn’t want you wandering off by yourself,” Sol snaps, looking over his shoulder. “Did y— oh.”

Kent, his lips slightly parted and rain making his long lashes sparkle a little in the moonlight, has rested his head against Sol’s shoulder and is breathing long and steady, his breath making faint snuffling noises through his broken nose.

Sol stares a little.

“What’s up with sunshine?” Paxon says, a trace of worry in their voice. “He’s not dead, is he?”

“No,” Sol says, a confused smile spreading over his face. “I think he’s fallen asleep.” Looking carefully anywhere but at Paxon’s stupid smug grin, he clears his throat. “Let’s just go. I’ll carry him. He isn’t heavy.”

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [14/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #undying love #fatal flaw #jealousy

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

What follows is a silent feud about where Jason will sleep. He tries to insist that the cot in the medbay will be sufficient, but Tim is unmoved by the argument.

“You need to be comfortable,” he maintains crossly. “The only time anyone gets any sleep in here is if they’re doped up on the good drugs, none of which will help you right now.”

“Sleep won’t help me either, you know. There hasn’t really been a difference between being awake or not for a while now.”

Tim tries not to betray his dismay at that. “It might not do anything for your mind, but it might for the rest of you. You need to keep what strength you can.”

“Then I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“That thing was brought for decoration only,” Tim counters. “I can tell you from experience that falling asleep on it causes as many bruises as a night of patrol.” He pauses to consider, and then says, “Besides, that’s where the brat’s sleeping if he stays over.”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Hilarious. I expect someone else will be here to relieve me before I ever have to endure what passes as your version of hospitality.” 

“There are two bedrooms in the apartment,” Tim goes on, ignoring the boy, “Alfred was by before all this happened to change the linens, so it’s all clean. You can take my bed—”

“No. No. I can’t. If you’re going to be stubborn about this, I’ll go with the guestroom.”

“Really? You’re going to pick a fight over this too?” Tim groans. “My room is the only one with blackout blinds, which are statistically proven to improve sleep quality.”

Jason shifts from side to side, like he’s wavering, and then throws Damian an almost pleading look.

The boy huffs in irritation and snaps at Tim, “Surely even you can’t be ignorant to the implications of letting a man, who’s aroused by your very presence, sleep in your bed?”

Stunned silence meets that comment, before the horror sets in.

“Damian!”

“What the hell, kid?!”

“You just…I can’t believe you…That’s not…!” Tim may be too upset for words at this moment, not least of all because the little monster has a point.

“If this is what having a normal younger brother feels like, I’m amazed any of you make it to adulthood,” Jason growls, cheeks bright red.

The boy remains unrepentant. “I’m sure Richard has said the same thing about both of you on occasion. Now, if you’re both finished with the Victorian theatrics, I haven’t eaten yet and assuming the likely event that Drake has nothing palatable in his fridge, I intend to order something. If you don’t want to starve, you may come along. And bring your credit card.”

He swans out of the medbay, leaving the older vigilantes staring after him.

“How?” Tim mutters. “How is it the little jerk always manages to walk around my property like he owns it?”

“Because you’re a pushover,” Jason answers immediately.

Tim makes a face. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me that when you’re not holding my hand like it’s a lifeline.”

Jason’s eyes snap downward in surprise like he didn’t notice he was doing it. If they were red before, the color of his cheeks appears to darken further now.

“Shut up,” he snaps.

Which makes Tim feel bad about teasing him.

It’s not like he has control over it.

Or the way he’s been looking at him since Tim showed up with Barbara.

It’s total disbelief, like he can’t understand how Tim was physically in front of him, and then something like shame or guilt.

The knot in Tim’s stomach tightens at that.

Is kissing me really something that bothers him that much?

“You, uh, you don’t have to take my bed,” Tim murmurs, avoiding the other man’s gaze. “It’s like you said. Not like you’re going to sleep anyway, so…the guestroom should be good enough.”

He leaves the medbay, Jason in tow.

“Why do you even have a guestroom?” the latter wants to know. “You don’t strike me as the type to want people staying over here.”

“Kon and Bart sometimes crash here.”

Jason scowls. “Aren’t they fast enough to just zoom back home in a blink? Why do they have to stay here?”

“Uh, because they’re my friends? And sometimes friends get together and do things like play video games, go see movies or just sit and commiserate about how irritating our parent-slash-mentors can be. They don’t have to stay, but sometimes it’s just fun to hang out.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t know anything about that,” Jason mutters.

Some of Tim’s attitude fades away. “Really? Bruce didn’t let you hang out with your friends?”

“To do that you need to have friends to hang out with.”

“But I thought—there was that girl, wasn’t there?” he asks as he opens the door to the apartment, and they head in.

I’m sure I saw pictures of her and Jason up in his bedroom.

Jason looks confused for a moment, like he’s trying to remember something long-buried, but eventually the recollection takes hold.

“Rena? Yeah, we hung out, but there weren’t sleepovers involved, and I couldn’t exactly complain to her about when Batman was being a douche,” he reminds him. “And I guarantee when we went to see movies, we weren’t actually watching the movie. If you know what I mean.”

He ends the last bit with a leer and now it’s Tim who’s embarrassed.  “What about the Titans? You never stayed over at the Tower?”

“Daytrips only,” Jason replies. “B wasn’t keen on me hanging out with them. I think he still blamed them for Dick leaving and thought they’d corrupt me or something. I was rarely there long enough to bond with anyone like that.”

“Sounds kind of like Damian’s situation,” Tim says, glancing over to where the younger boy is sitting at his kitchen island with his cellphone in hand, lecturing someone across the line in rapid Chinese.

“I think in his case, it isn’t so much the lack of opportunity to make friends as the lack of interest.”

“You’re not wrong.” Tim shakes his head. “I mean, he did grow up in the League. And you…” He trails off, suddenly reminded. “You were there too, right? When you came back?”

“Sort of,” Jason allows, shifting with discomfort. “Friends weren’t high on the list of priorities then.”

“I guess not.”

Tim purses his lips as he leads Jason up the stairs toward the bedroom, wondering not for the first time what kind of hell the other man had to endure upon his resurrection. That part of his life is a mystery to them all.

And I have a feeling some of it shouldn’t be.

He recalls the blades that appeared in Jason’s hand out of nowhere, and strains his memory through the disorganization of the fight to remember what Carrie Cutter said when she saw them.

“What about the All-Caste,” he recalls out loud as he leads for Jason to enter the guestroom at the end of the hall. “Was that the same thing?”

He doesn’t have to look at the other man to notice he’s tensed up. “Sort of, yeah.”

“So, it’s another secret organization? They’re the ones who gave you those swords, right?”

“Nobody gave me anything,” Jason grunts, and skirts past Tim and through the door into the room. He pauses a moment, assessing the space as if expecting something to jump out at him—there’s the Bat-paranoia—before turning back to face Tim. “I trained for that shit, and it takes a special kind of rage to be able access the All-Blades.”

Tim leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “All-Blades. Really. They’re seriously called that?”

Jason shoots him a look. “Problem?”

“No. I just…it’s kind of a lame name. Magic blades are usually called…Excalibur or Sword of Omens or Dagger of Time.” That earns him a disbelieving look, and Tim throws his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re a goddamn nerd is what you’re saying,” Jason informs him. “And it doesn’t matter what they’re called, it’s what they do.”

“' Only show up in the presence of pure evil’. I remember. As far as powers go, at least they’re useful.”

“Not if Cupid decides to keep switching back and forth with whoever’s helping her,” Jason says. “They work against whoever that is but are useless against her when she’s human and just crazy.” Weariness radiates off him, and to Tim’s surprise, he throws himself back onto the bed seemingly without any of his prior unease, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “What I wouldn’t give right now for a superpower that was a bit less finicky.”  

“The fact that we have a power on our side at all is still an advantage.”

“Not as much as if I had the ability to blow shit up with my mind. Which would be kind of poetic.”

His mouth twists into a self-deprecating grin that makes Tim scowl. “Of course.”

Always with the death jokes.

Jason appears to notice his tone because when he lowers his hands from his eyes there’s a glimmer of apology there. It vanishes almost immediately, hidden beneath the veneer of humor.

“What about you?” he asks.

“What about me what?”

“If you could have a superpower, what would it be?”

And isn’t this surreal?

First, that Jason is here in his apartment, second that this isn’t some kind of Red Hood plan where he shows up to mess with Tim. And now they’re talking about superpowers? In the hypothetical sense, instead of their usual ‘someone-with-a-power-is-trying-to-kill-us’ sense.

Jason is still waiting for him to answer, so Tim thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. Something easy to hide, I guess.”

“Hide? Like from B?”

“No—well, yeah, that too. You know how he is. But I wouldn’t want something that would call attention to myself, or anyone else in the masked community. Especially not the Bats,” he says.

“Huh. Guess you got a point. If suddenly getting powers meant you develop lizard skin or wings or gills, it’d be kinda hard to hide even with all the fun Wayne Enterprises toys you’ve got.”

“And if someone like Vicki Vale could finally make the connection between me and everyone else? I think I’ll pass.”

Jason shakes his head. “There you go again, putting everyone’s needs and comfort above yourself. It’s a real issue with you, isn’t it?”

“It’s a hypothetical situation, you don’t need to read too much into it.”

“Okay, well hypothetically, if you weren’t a self-sacrificing moron, what power would you want?”

Tim ponders for a moment, and then says, “Being able to fly, maybe. Or super strength.”

“Wanna be able to keep up with Super Clone, huh?” Jason asks, voice a little tight.

Tim frowns because that sounds like a dig; not at him, he realizes a beat later, but Connor.

Why would that…? Oh. He’s jealous.

Still unsure how to deal with Jason’s newfound possessiveness, he gauges the other man’s body language, and then slowly enters the room proper to perch on the edge of the bed. Knowing how uneasy Jason is about physical proximity, he keeps a respectable distance between them for now.

Out loud, and in a would-be casual voice, he replies, “No, nothing like that. It’d just be nice to be able to go up against Bane or Killer Croc without having to worry too much about the day I’m too slow to dodge.”

Wrong thing to say, apparently.

Jason’s instantly sitting up and reaching for Tim—almost snatching at him. “You go one-on-one with Killer Croc? Are you nuts?”

“It’s an example,” Tim is quick to assure him even as he lets him grasp his hand. “I’ve never been that reckless. I’m not Damian.”

Although there was that one time, I tricked Killer Croc and Bane into going after each other instead of me, but I’m not telling Jason that now. Save that for when he’s cured and will find it funny instead of upsetting.

He tries to ignore the nagging doubt at the back of his mind that they’re even going to be able to cure Jason.

Or that if they do, Jason will even stick around.

“Thank the gods for small miracles,” Jason exhales; he doesn’t remove his hand, though.

“Also, aside from being useful the next time someone decides to drop a baby over a bridge, flying’s awesome,” Tim says lightly. “You can’t tell me your favorite thing about being Robin wasn’t jumping off tall buildings.”

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. There’s something to be said for busting collarbones.”

“You forget that I was there,” Tim points out. “I saw you taking the long way back to your rendezvous points just so you could be in the air a little longer.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

“I have pictures.”

“Which you don’t show anyone.”

“Yeah, because I love reminding people of how I stalked them when I was a stupid kid,” Tim deadpans.

“Hey, you did it, own it. But I’d still like to see those pictures. I…uh…don't exactly have a lot of me from before…from when I was a kid.”

Tim purses his lips, holding back on his first instinct to babble out an agreement. This new honesty and vulnerability Jason is showing him—the increased tactility and need for proximity—it’s only Eros’ blood influencing him. Who’s to say once things are back to normal—and they will be!—Jason won’t go back to mocking and deriding Tim?

Assuming he wants to be within ten feet of me.

“Tell you what,” he says at last. “When this is over, if you still want to see them, I’ll hunt them out of storage.”

Jason beams at him in genuine excitement. “Awesome.”

They gaze at each other for several seconds, before Jason seems to remember himself. His eyes dart to their hands, and he pulls back again. “Sorry.”

“You know what I’m going to say.”

“Yeah. But it’s not just about you. I’m not…I don’t do this.” He gestures. “Even when I’m not under the influence of mind-altering drugs, not a fan of handsy guys. Especially if the handsy guy is me.”

“You know, I had noticed that pattern since you got back to Gotham,” Tim says dryly. “All that busting of collarbones you were talking about.”

Jason’s cheeks go pink for some reason at that. “Uh. Yeah. Exactly.”

Before Tim can think it over, Jason shifts until he’s lying down, and then turns his back on Tim. “Think I’m gonna try that whole sleeping thing. Just for shits and giggles.”

“Okay,” Tim replies slowly, feeling as if he’s missing something. “You want me to go?”

“No!” Jason practically whirls around, winces when he realizes how fervent that was. “I mean…you can stay. If you want.” He swallows, looking anywhere but Tim. “Might help. A bit. You don’t have to.”

I hope the King of Mixed Signals thing you’ve got going on is just the infection…

“How about this,” Tim begins, bringing out his phone. “I’ll sit over here—” A respectable six inches away from Jason, “—and get to work on that list. You try to get some sleep. When you wake up, you can look it over and tell me what you think.”

He can see how Jason’s working out if that’s alright, trying to find any way that could backfire, and then he slowly nods.

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“And at the top of the list,” Tim says, shooting him a meaningful glare, “‘Jason Todd is allowed to hold Tim Drake’s hand’. Should I put it in bold?”

“Don’t be such a smug shit, Replacement.”

The other man still settles back on his side of the bed. It’s completely stiff at first, and his eyes remain trained on Tim like he’s afraid he’ll either vanish or wrap himself around him.

Tim pretends not to notice the scrutiny, instead sits cross-legged in his designated spot, and makes it seem like he’s wholly engrossed in figuring out a list of behaviors that they can both consider allowable. Which is a new one for him, because he’s never really considered doing this before in a regular relationship, let alone one as situational as this.

Eventually the exhaustion of the past days catches up with Jason, and the Bat conditioning of grabbing sleep wherever and whenever one can wins out. His breath evens out and when Tim does look up, his eyelids have drifted shut.

For several minutes, he simply watches, before catching himself.

Don’t be a creeper.

He turns back to his phone.

Unsure what else to add to the list (and there’s kind of no point doing this while Jason’s asleep, Tim only said he’d work on it to keep the other man calm), Tim decides to use the time to read up a little more on Greek mythology. Jason is so well-read on this subject and Tim has only a passing knowledge, if there’s any chance of thinking up new solutions for this case, it will help if he doesn’t need Jason or Eros to take the time to explain things to him.

Especially not Eros. I trust him about as far as Kon could throw him…

He never thought this sort of thing was important to know, mostly because if there was ever case involving mythology or ancient evil, Cassie generally had that covered.

Apparently, a refresher course is in order.

Speaking of Cassie, he sends her a quick text—and then one to Bart and Kon just to cover all his bases—before diving into his research.

He doesn’t have the time or the patience to read the original works of Hesiod or Homer, although he amuses himself thinking Jason probably has.

Maybe even in the original Greek.

He spares a fond look for the sleeping man beside him.

Somehow, he never expected he could look so vulnerable. And not only because that word seems incompatible for describing Jason.

After years of training, the mantra of ‘constant vigilance’ gets so ingrained in a body that it can never really relax into slumber. Tim doesn’t think any of the Robins are able to just check-out when they go to sleep.

Not without heavy sedation, or under the care of a qualified English butler.

And unlike Dick and Tim, the other Robins all led lives that were anything but safe. Being a heavy sleeper could lead to more than just bruises.

His fingers want to drift toward Jason again, want to comb through his hair but Tim is loath to disturb his fragile slumber.

He becomes aware then, of eyes on him and Jason; looking up, he catches Damian watching from the doorway, a frown on his face.

Tim tenses up defensively then, expecting a snide comment and already planning on how he’ll fight the kid if he makes a big deal about this.

Jason already feels bad enough about the whole thing, we don’t need any more comments from the peanut gallery.

“Did you need something?” he asks coolly, voice soft so as not to disturb Jason.

“I simply came to inform you that Brown has arrived for her babysitting shift,” the boy tells him, but the usual sneer that would accompany his words is absent. He lingers a further moment in the doorway, shakes his head and then walks away.

Tim frowns, not sure he wants to ask, but also knowing that leaving Damian to his own devices rarely turns out well.

Carefully, he shifts away from Jason, moving with gentleness so as not to wake him. Once he’s satisfied that he hasn’t disturbed him, he leaves the room and gently closes the door behind him.

Damian is already across the hallway, leaning against the door of Tim’s study with his arms crossed and mouth pulled downward. It’s the same look Bruce gets when he’s puzzling out a clue that doesn’t fit.

“You care for Todd.”

“Of course I do,” Tim agrees automatically. “He’s one of us.”

“No. Not like that.” Damian pauses, like he’s trying to choose his words with care, which is…rare for him. “You care about him in a romantic way. I had assumed it was one-sided due to the circumstances, but it’s not. You return his feelings.”

Tim’s stomach swoops, a lump in his throat.

First Steph, now Damian. I’ve managed to keep this to myself for almost ten years, and in the span of two weeks two of the people I’d least like to know figure it out.

Damian continues to watch him, waiting for a confirmation or a denial.

Tim chooses to side-step. “He doesn’t have feelings for me. You know that’s Eros’ blood making him act this way.”

“Perhaps. It doesn’t change the fact that at this moment, he cares for you and you care for him.”

“The key words being ‘at this moment’,” Tim says with a scowl. “Which means it doesn’t matter. It’s not real.”

“I don’t understand. This is clearly a good thing, and yet you both persist in being miserable,” Damian says, crossing his arms. “If you act on your feelings, it could allay his distress much better than your current half-measures. And in the meantime, the rest of us can work on a long-term solution.”

Tim clenches his jaw, a myriad of responses on his tongue, some more defensive and angry than others.

He’s saved from saying anything when another voice says, “It doesn’t work like that, Dami.”

Steph has made her way up the stairs; she’s dressed in comfortable clothes and the cast on her arm has been wrapped with purple tape.

“There’s no Band-Aid solution for this,” she goes on. “When this is all over and Jason goes back to wanting nothing to do with the Family—with Tim—it’s going to be heartbreaking.”

“It will be heartbreaking anyhow,” Damian points out. “You may as well enjoy it while you can. At least then, you’ll have the memories. Especially if our efforts to save him are unsuccessful.”

Which is oddly deep, for Damian.

“Memories aren’t always a good substitute for giving up that last bit of yourself,” Steph says quietly. “Take it from someone who knows from experience.”

Her expression wavers, and Tim wonders which heartbreak she’s thinking of just then. Her father constantly letting her down, having to give up her daughter, the events that lead to her breakup with Tim—

It could be anything.

“And you don’t want another schism with Jason to affect the team dynamics,” Steph concludes.

Damian is not convinced. “Please. If that were the case, we would already have seen worse consequences from you and Drake working together.”

Steph tilts her head to one side. “Okay, you have a point there. Kinda surprised you’re the one making it, though.”

“Why?”

“I always figured romantic relationships didn’t merit your attention.”

“Not unless they affect our work. Which is what Drake and Todd’s is doing now.”

“Should have known…” Steph rolls her eyes. “Still surprising, though. Especially considering your background.”

“Meaning?”

“The, uh, culture you come from. With the League and how strict they are about everything. I figured you’d have a bigger problem with two guys, you know, having feelings for each other.”

“Alleged feelings,” Tim reminds. “Alleged feelings induced by supernatural roofie. I don’t think it counts.”

“Technicalities,” Steph dismisses with a wave of her hand. “There’s still major dude-on-dude sexual tension happening here.”

Tim chokes, and Damian looks like he stepped in something gross. “Thank you for that horrifying assessment, Brown.”

“I do what I can.”

“But for your information, League law is based on skills, not who warms one’s bed,” Damian says. “Proscriptions against homosexuality were created by populations with such a low survival rate following birth that every available person had to be governed by the need to procreate. That’s no longer an issue today.”

“Really.”

“In fact, should anyone in the League develop an attachment to one of their comrades—which isn’t forbidden, by the way, it’s just looked down on—it’s considered less of a problem among same-sex relationships because it means fewer children adding to the surplus population of the world. If no one elevates their paramour above the League’s law and purpose, it is not a problem.”

“Huh. That actually makes sense. I mean, with Ra’s’ whole ‘destroy humanity to save the world’ spiel.”

“Only certain bloodlines are continued to ensure stewardship of the world,” Damian agrees. “My aunt, once she fulfilled her duties to give birth to an heir, has taken only female lovers.”

“Wait…you have an aunt?”

Damian ignores her and turns to Tim. “Were your feelings for Todd entirely mutual, it would be a smart match for the both of you. Your bloodlines would cease, ridding us of your less desirable evolutionary qualities.”

“Gee, thanks,” Tim deadpans. “I think that was almost a compliment.”

“With you and Todd unable to provide a legacy, I would be the only one to carry on Father’s bloodline,” the boy concludes.

“You do realize that adoption and surrogacy are a thing, right?” Steph asks, bemused. “I mean, weren’t you technically a test-tube baby?”

“Blood is blood,” Damian says with a shrug.

“And how do Cass and Duke and Dick fit into your little scenario here?” Tim grumbles.

“Cain has never indicated an interest in any children and given the conditioning her biological parents subjected her to, I image they ensured it would never become an issue for her,” the boy muses. “Thomas is not part of the family—”

“Yet,” Steph pipes up.

Damian makes a dismissive gesture, as if he agrees but doesn’t consider it an issue. “And Richard is not blood.”

“He’s still Bruce’s son.”

“We’re all Bruce’s sons,” Tim growls, once again growing irritated with Damian’s black-and-white view of the world.

“You retained your father’s name, as does Thomas. Todd is legally deceased. And Richard never took Father’s name, to begin with. He will have his own children—if by some miracle he doesn’t have them already—and they will likely marry into the family since he is ghayr mahram. Thus, we’ll maintain a strong Wayne bloodline.”

He nods to himself as if pleased with the assessment.

Tim stares. “Your brain is a messed-up place. You know this, right?”

“You seriously have all of this planned out?” Steph wonders, expression caught between disturbed and impressed. She looks like she might want to hear more, and so Tim interrupts.

“In any case, you guys are way off-topic—like, parallel-universe-levels of off-topic. And if you don’t stop, I’m going to start speculating about hypothetical future relationships between the two of you.”

“Oh, ew. Why, Tim? Why?”

“As if I would ever…of all the preposterous…does your mind know no bounds of depravity?” Damian sputters.

“Consider it revenge for that comment you made about Jason in the medbay.”

Damian shudders. “Point made.

“What comment?”

“Not now, Steph.”

She sighs. “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted. I’m going to finish steal some Chinese food if you don’t mind.”

She heads downstairs, and Tim shoots a glare at Damian. “You didn’t come to get us when the food got here?”

“Do I look like Pennyworth to you? It’s not enough I had to order it for you—”

“With my money, I’m guessing.”

“—did you want me to eat it for you too?”

“Like you didn’t already.”

“Semantics.” The boy turns toward the stairs as well.

“Damian.”

“What?”

“Don’t…don't tell Bruce,” Tim says after a beat of hesitation. He doesn’t like confirming any kind of perceived weakness to the younger boy, but this one has ruinous potential if not kept secret. “Please.”

Damian doesn’t immediately take his meaning, but when he does, he gives a sharp, barely noticeably nod.

“Tch—as if Father would be bothered by such trivium. But if you insist.” Tim exhales in surprised relief. “Although…”

He tenses. Should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“I would caution you against making your feelings about Todd very obvious around Richard,” Damian suggests. “Considering the way he has been compromised, should he discover the truth it won’t remain a secret for you to tell.”

He departs then, leaving Tim standing in the hallway, feeling bizarrely wrong-footed.

⁂

The horizon over Susa is dark but for a thin strip of pink, the last lingering trail of Apollo’s chariot. As he heads out of the feast chamber and onto the balcony, Jason—no, not Jason. He is Alexandros, scion of gods and heir to kings—breathes deep the spicy sweet-smelling air and tries to dispel his melancholy.

His mind is a million miles away from the festivities within. He can hear the raucous shouts of his men and their new wives, the music and the dance and the drink. He should be in there with them, but his mood for celebrating feels false—false like the entire charade he’s just engaged in for the sake of peace and politics.

His feet are itching to take off at a run for who knows where, and yet he remains stubbornly and painfully grounded.

There is a hand suddenly upon his—brown, callused and familiar. He looks down into dark, burning eyes and sees concern there, and so forces a smile.

“This is your wedding night, you know,” he reminds. “You should be spending it with your brides.”

“And you with yours,” Tim—no, Hephaestion—replies, trying for teasing but it sounds more brittle than anything else.

“The duty will keep. There is only one I would spend this night with.”

Alexandros leans into the other man, presses his forehead head against the smaller man’s hair.

“I’ll be sure to notify Roxana to expect you,” Hephaestion murmurs.

Alexandros reels back with a scowl. “Very funny.”

“I thought it was.”

But there’s a lack of his usual wry humor in the words.

Alexandros sighs, knowing the reason for it. “Are you still angry I insisted you wed Drypteis?”

“How can I be? The weddings were my idea.” And they were—a brilliant and necessary political maneuver meant to forge ties between the ruling houses of Perses and Makedonia.

“One you suggested without expecting you would have to endure yourself,” he points out. “Policy works better when those in power lead by example.”

“Is that what it was? Here I thought you were simply tiring of the rumormongering of your other vassals,” Hephaestion says darkly. “It’s no secret they would have me banished or dead to take my place.”

“There is no one who ever could,” Alexandros assures him, worried about the sudden insecurity. “And my wish that you wed had nothing to do with what anyone else thinks. There is a grander hope in my heart than that.”

Hephaestion raises an eyebrow; it’s the first he’s heard of this.

“Do you not see? In having you marry the sister of my own wife, you and I are now bound even more closely together than before. We are family in more than just bond now—as closely as nature will allow—and no one can argue it,” Alexandros explains fervently. “And one day when I have a son, and you a daughter, they can wed. We will share descendants, and they will cement the dynasty and our bloodline in perpetuity.” He crosses his arms. “So my other vassals can bay at the moon as much as they want, there will never be another who replaces you in my esteem.”

Hephaestion’s expression is surprised at first, then pleased. A small smile curls at the edge of his lips, cheeks darkening. But a moment later, something troubling and uncertain enters his eyes.

“What is it, philtatos? Does that future displease you?”

“It’s a pretty dream your words weave, but if someone sticks a knife in your back or poisons you before you father an heir, it’s nothing but a dream.”

“There is time enough for that yet. And in that task, I am not alone,” he teases. “Your line also has yet to be so blessed.”

But Hephaestion does not rise to the bait. “You have already achieved so much. As great as—greater still—than your father before you.” Alexandros clenches his fist at the mention of his father; the man is dead twelve years and yet still casts a long, damned shadow. “What could you lose, hanging back for a year or so? Spend some time running the empire you’re building instead of marching constantly to war.”

“What would be the point of that?” he dismisses, putting some distance between the two of them. “You do that job better than I do, with your shrewd plans and shadowy plots. I am quite content with you keeping the works running while I conquer us a legacy that will last millennia.” 

“I have already made the point as to why that might be problematic.”

“Nonsense. Don’t you see? This is why our empire will last longer than any other—because instead of one man grasping desperately to hold the reins of power, there will be two.” He grasps the shoulders of his beloved. “For you, Hephaestion, are Alexandros as well. My second self.” He reaches to cradle his chin, brushing his thumb across the other man’s lips. “Have I not said so a thousand times?”

Hephaestion’s eyes lose some of their strain, though he looks away. “And yet you are king, not I. This was never meant to be my domain. The gods chose your line, not mine.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Alexandros allows. “But one day it will be. As I said before.”

He has no doubt about that.

There are several long moments where he waits, expectant, and then Hephaestion sighs. “As always, I will serve your will.”

Alexandros nods in approval. “Good.”

“I still worry, though, that your utter certainty in your will may someday be misplaced.”

“Nonsense. I am a god, remember?”

“In your own mind, perhaps.”

“Blasphemy,” Alexandros says with affection, curling his fingers into the hair at the name of Hephaestion’s neck and pulling him close. “You have called me god on more than one occasion.”

Whatever the response to that might be is cut off as he fits their lips together, and then he knows nothing but the taste of his beloved.

He startles awake, the ghost of lips upon his own.

His skin tingles and burns, like it’s been stretched around an ill-fitting frame, and there’s a throbbing pressure behind his eyes.

“Where…?” he murmurs, examining his surroundings in confusion for a moment. The room is a far cry from the frescoed rooms and silken furniture he is used to, and the incense-thick air now replaced with something floral and false.

Worse than the disorientation is the fact Hephaestion has vanished.

Only as he jumps out of the bed where he was laying does reality return, hitting him like a crowbar to the head.

He’s not Alexandros—not anymore. He’s Jason, and this is Tim’s guestroom, and Tim is—

“Not here,” he realizes, whatever panic might have been brewing about his previous lives blurring with his current one vanishing with the realization. It’s like a vice clamps around his lungs, and unless he finds Tim, it won’t release.

Instantly he’s stumbled from the bed and across the room, throwing open the door in a hurry. He bursts into the hallway, frantic eyes flitting wildly until he spots Tim standing at the other end. He is framed in a doorway, deep in discussion with—

Blondie is on the stairs beside him—too near, way too near!—and Jason’s already moving.

Before he’s even aware of it, he has Tim wrapped in his arms, has his face buried in his neck and breathes in the scent of him that is somehow so different and yet so similar to how it once was beneath blood and sand and time.

Tim stands stock still, bearing up under the sudden onslaught remarkably well. Jason is a full five inches taller than him and considerably bulkier; Jason can feel him bracing himself beneath him.

“Sorry,” he says immediately and pulls away.

“Don’t be,” Tim says, clearly working to keep his voice level and pretend he is unaffected. He clears his throat. “It’s on the list.”

Jason rubs the back of his head, uncomfortable. “Guess I should probably take a look at that then maybe.”

They’re both trying and failing to avoid each other’s gaze until there’s a cough beside them.

Jason suddenly recalls Steph’s presence—which comes along with a long-buried piece of information that’s never bothered him until now. Namely that she and Tim dated.

On the tails of that fact is irrational anger, because in this time, she has a prior claim on him. And she’s never made any bones about disliking him. Who’s to say she isn’t here to take Tim away from him in the name of protecting him?

Which is both exactly what he wants and also ground for him to rip her throat out.

His lip curls reflexively and he looms closer to Tim. “Problem, Blondie?”

“Yep,” she says easily, the forced calm of someone trying to negotiate a hostage release. Her mouth is pulled into a sharp smile, eyes cool. “But not the one you think I have.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re both being ridiculous,” Tim interrupts, a shade too loud and with a glare in Steph’s direction. That, more than his words, causes Jason to relax a little; if Tim’s annoyed with her, he’s less likely to let her drag him off somewhere. “Jason, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I had to speak to Damian, and then Steph showed up…” He shakes his head in apology. “Did you at least get some rest?”

“A bit,” Jason says though it’s a lie. “Speaking of the bat brat, where is he?”

“Went back to the manor.”

There’s a lot more relief in his voice than the usual that comes with Damian making an exit.

There’s a sudden blare of music from Steph’s pocket, some pop thing that Jason’s probably heard on the radio or in a movie or something. Digging it out, she barely glances at the number before her previously hard expression blooms into a smile.

“It’s Cass,” she tells Tim. “Mind if I step into the other room, or do I have to worry about wandering hands while I’m out of earshot?” she drawls.

“Very funny,” he grumbles as she does just that.

Jason’s brows draw together, wary; it almost sounds as if Steph is…joking about all this. Not getting ready to split them up or say something disapproving that might hurt Tim. Which…is not what he was expecting.

“Did I miss something while I was asleep?” he asks.

“No!”

“Yeah, that was a little too quick to be believable, baby bird.”

“We just established a few things is all. So if you’re worried about Steph, don’t be.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning she won’t say anything. She’s an ally.” At Jason’s derisive snort, Tim glowers. “She covered for you—for us at the Cave. So no one else knows.”

Jason stares at him without comprehension for a moment and then remembers, and his neck and cheeks warm.

The kiss.

“Right.” He swallows. “Guess Bats wouldn’t be too comfortable with us hanging out if he knew about that, huh?”

“I don’t care if he’s comfortable or not,” Tim says with stubborn venom. “The particulars of this situation is no one’s business but ours. It’s enough B’s keeping us benched, he doesn’t get to dictate this too.”

The fierce expression is the same one he wore earlier in the Cave when he was standing up to Bruce, and Jason once again experiences that overwhelming need to pull him close and continue playing out the scene of his dream in real-time.

This time he’s able to rein it in, but it’s a tenuous thing.

“Consider this whole thing’s about us, I have no intention of staying completely out of the investigation,” Tim goes on, thankfully unaware of the direction of Jason’s thoughts. “If anyone’s going to figure all of this out, it’s going to be us.”

“Well, you’ve got me convinced,” he says around the dryness of his mouth.

“Not that that takes much lately right?” Tim quips, lightly teasing in a way that makes Jason have to fight down an embarrassing sound in his throat. “Anyway, on that note, there’s food downstairs if you want to eat. Then I want to get back to the mainframe and do some more research for the case.”

“I’m fine,” Jason says, even though his stomach feels like a bunch of razor blades scraping around inside.

He distantly recognizes the feeling from many sleepless, hungry nights on the street, but somehow it doesn’t really bother him just then. It’s the same way the lack of sleep has felt like an afterthought until Tim forced him to lie down. His interest in anything seems to have become directly proportional to what Tim thinks about it.

Which the other man seems to have figured out as well because he narrows his eyes and indicates Jason should follow him down to the kitchen and the table with several brightly colored containers of Chinese take-out.

“Eat,” he commands.

Jason bristles. “You know, just because I’m slightly obsessed with you right now doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.” Tim raises an eyebrow, and there’s that reflex almost-whimper building in his throat that he must cough to get rid of. “I’m eating because I have a girlish figure to maintain and no other reason.”

“Of course,” Tim agrees, clearly knowing different.

The food, like the nap, doesn’t satisfy the way it usually might; there’s no relief in it, even though Jason knows it will help keep his strength up and not just because Tim said so.

He’s always felt a need to keep Tim happy when he was Patroklus and Hephaestion, but it was never under the compulsion he is now. There was always the freedom to refrain from something he disagreed with or stand up to schemes he didn’t agree with.

As pissed off as he is about Eros infecting him and ensuring his over-the-top fixation with Tim, it could be a lot worse. At least Tim would only take advantage to ensure he’s taking care of himself.

Which is ironic considering how bad he is at taking care of himself.

On their way back to the Nest, Steph returns from her phone call.

“So what was your uber-secret phone call about?” Tim wants to know.

“Lots of things I’m not telling you or your overgrown puppy there,” she quips with an irreverent grin. “Also, she’s flying in as soon as possible.”

“To help us, or help you mock the situation?”

“Why can’t it be both?”

Tim groans. “As if things weren’t bad enough…”

“Oh, relax, Ex-Boyfriend, if you can’t laugh at a situation, what can you?”

Jason growls at the words, earning a startled glance from Steph. Tim catches on quick, because he says, “You might want to watch your words for a bit, Steph. I don’t think Jason’s got the capacity to interpret certain jokes just now.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she agrees with a frown.

“Also, unless you intend to be useful, maybe go away,” Jason suggests with false cheer.

“Jason…”

“No, he’s right,” Steph interrupts, mouth thinning. “I’m just here to keep an eye out, but I didn’t sign up to be abused. If I wanted that I could’ve stayed in the Cave babysitting Dick. I thought you guys would at least be more fun.”

“Steph, it’s not his fault—”

“This week,” she accuses. “What’s his excuse for the rest of the time?”

“Lingering trauma.”

Tim groans at Jason’s retort, and Steph rolls her eyes. “And we’re back to the death jokes. Get some new material, Zombie Boy.”

“Would you both stop it!” Tim demands. “This is even less amusing than it usually is.”

Jason’s shoulders hunch; he feels instantly reprimanded and terrible for upsetting Tim. Steph doesn’t look quite as abashed, but her tense stance relaxes and she sighs.

“Fine. This is me, letting it go. For now.” They pause in front of the secret door as Tim reaches for the panel. “I’m going to commandeer your training room for a bit. See how much range of motion I still have.” She moves her injured arm gingerly. “Keep the comms open so if there’s any trouble I know to come help.” She jabs an index finger at the two of them. “And no smooching noises.” 

“Why? Jealous?” Jason jeers.

“Hardly,” she snorts. “Remember, I’ve kissed him more than you have.”

A film of green fury seems to pass across his vision and Jason lurches forward. His fist is already flying toward her, missing it’s mark only due to the fact that Steph has excellent reflexes and because Tim’s wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“Jason, no! Stop it!”

“Come on, Tim, this time she deserves it,” he whines.

“She deserves…something…” Tim grunts, trying to dig his heels into the ground. “But you…don’t hit…women…”

Something icy slides down the length of Jason’s spine in realization because…Tim’s right. He doesn’t hit women—at least, not unless he’s in a life or death situation facing off with a rogue or unscrupulous woman like Suzie Su who can take the hit. And he’s never lashed out at a woman just based on his own fury.

How could he forget something so fundamental to his principles? All because of a bit of teasing he’d probably just answer with snark on a normal day?

It’s getting worse, isn’t it?

His stomach twists, and he suddenly wants to throw up every bit of food he just ate.

Jason sags back on his heels, kept up only because Tim is still bolstering him from behind. As the inexplicable rage vanishes to be replaced by guilt and shame, he sees that Steph now looks trouble.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice subdued. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Neither did I,” Jason croaks. He wants to flee—to stalk off and get away from everything about this situation. But the warmth of Tim’s arms around him is a more convincing argument against that, countering every one of his normal coping mechanisms.

And as comforting as it is to know Tim is there to support him, Jason can’t help feeling utterly trapped.

⁂⁂⁂

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

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To Be Continued

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 21): Checkmate

Warnings: depictions of violence, language.

Pairings: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Summary: They go to face Ra’s together: as a family. 

Chapter Notes: Checkmate: Threatening the capture of the enemy king such that it cannot escape. This wins the game for the attacking side.

“When you turn to leave, he will use your name like a choke chain.” — “ Lessons On Loving a Prophet ”, Jeanann Verlee

The whirl of the snow dropped away as Cass pulled the stone door shut behind them and with it so did the whistling whine of wind against Tim’s ears. Tim almost would have preferred the noise… anything to distract him from the fears he was barely holding at bay in the corner of his mind.

The hallway they’d entered into was deserted as they expected, having seen no visuals from the tech on the Batwing. By the time they reached the lower levels, though, they’d expected to have found a ninja or two, but the hallway ahead of them was empty. As were the ones after it.

Batman, who’d been leading the group around one corner and then the next, finally stopped and spoke quietly to them over his shoulder. “Ra’s has pulled all of his men back to the central chamber as we feared.”

“When we attack, we’ll have to be ready to give it our all.” said Dick, “We’ll be going up against his entire army… or close to that at any rate.”

“There’s still time to call Alfred back and blow up the chamber with the big guns on the Batwing,” said Jason.

“No,” Bruce grunted. “It’ll be too hard to guarantee that we hit the right target.”

Jason exhaled a long breath. “Alright then, I guess we’re all planning on dying the hard and painful way.”

Tim skimmed his knuckles across the back of Jason’s hand. Jason glanced down at their hands hanging next to each other and then pulled his gaze back up to Tim’s eyes.

Tim tried for a smile.

It was hard when the knots in his stomach left him feeling nothing but queasy with unease. “Not planning on dying on me so soon are you?”

Jason refused to make eye contact, instead he look out over the top of Tim’s head. “Not planning on it, particularly, but if I did…  What then?”

Tim swallowed thickly. It took everything in him to say the next words, but he said them anyway because he meant them this time. He’d learned his lesson and he didn’t plan on making the same mistake twice. “Then I’ll keep my promise to you this time.”

Jason’s eyes returned to him in a flash. The intense expression on Jason’s face fixed Tim to the spot. He was aware of the fact that he’d also drawn the eyes of his family members, though they said nothing to draw attention to themselves.

Tim squeezed Jason’s fingers tightly. “But don’t expect me to let you go gently into the sweet goodnight, or any of that bullshit.”

Jason gave a faint smirk. “Death would have to drag me kicking and screaming to get me to part from you.”

Tim smiled but his mood didn't lift. He longed for the time when every choice he made didn’t feel like an even bigger mistake than the one before it. It seemed like years ago when he could make a decision and know the outcome for certain… and know that it wouldn’t end in some kind of catch-22 situation.

Bruce coughed into his fist. “We should keep moving.”

They continued on.

When they rounded a torchlit corner and stumbled into the first guard they were all more than a little startled. Cass came from the side with a throat punch that never connected. The ninja sidestepped and caught her arm . He shoved her back towards the group.

The ninja didn’t follow the move with an attack. They stood warily together, hands hovering over a variety of weapons, nobody moving except to exchange confused glances.

“The Demon’s head wishes to speak with the one he calls ‘Detective’.”

Bruce stepped forward. “Tell Ra’s that I— ”

“He doesn’t mean you.”

Ouch. Tim understood the meaning of the guard’s words and he knew that Ra’s meant to insult Bruce with it. Tim wondered quietly to himself what had caused Bruce to fall from the pedestal that Ra’s had once placed him on.

Tim’s hand moved from his bo staff to Bruce’s arm. Bruce turned to look at him.

“I can do this.”

There was a long pause before Bruce stepped back and to the side. Tim took his mentor’s place.

He raised his head to address the man standing before him.

“If Ra’s wishes to speak to me he’ll do it in the company of my family or not at all. It’s your choice. Risk angering your master if you’re feeling brave.”

The ninja didn’t hesitate before stepping to the side and extending his hand towards the set of closed double doors he’d once stood in front of. At least Tim knew he still held some lingering power around here… at least while he was still considered the Demon Head’s chosen one. Or play thing. Tim tried hard not to think about that.

Tim pulled open the double doors and forced his feet to keep moving and carry him towards the chair where Ra’s lounged like a king before his court. Tim’s muscles tensed at the sight of so many ninjas standing in formation on two sides of the room. He walked between the two columns of men, his family following a step behind him, stopping a few feet from Ra’s.

Ra’s smiled at the sight of them. “What’s this, Detective? Did you bring your whole family for an official goodbye?”

“I won’t be going anywhere with you, Ra’s.”

Ra’s’ smile widened. “Oh, Timothy, Timothy. That’s not how this game works, remember?”

"I'm putting a stop to this, Ra's," stated Bruce. “Tim has made his choice very clear and you’re either going to respect that or we’re going to make you in whatever way necessary. Either way, this ends tonight.”

Ra's laughed and sat forward in his chair. "Oh, now you're putting a stop to it? You? Who sold him to me in the first place."

"That was a stratagem. Tim understood that the part he played was necessary— "

"You sold him. Tossed him to the wolves with such carelessness. Do not come here making demands of me now that you've realized the precious asset you stand to lose."

"Asset?" scoffed Dick. "He doesn't want a fucking asset. He wants his son back, you bastard."

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Ra’s. “You see, Batman, you gave me a taste of the forbidden fruit. You can’t blame me for developing an appetite.”

Nausea rose violently in Tim’s throat and he stepped backwards so fast that his shoulder blade came up hard against Jason's chest. Jason reached out and steadied him with a hand on his arm. At Ra's words however, Jason didn't release his hold. Instead his grip tightened, fingers pressing into the bend of Tim's elbow hard enough that Tim swore Jason could feel his fear thumping through the veins that rested under his fingertips.

“You do realize,” said Damian, “That when you say creepy shit like that, other people can hear you. Right?”

“Damian,” Dick hissed under his breath.

“What?” Damian snapped. “We were all thinking it. How else is he going to learn if nobody—”

Dick elbowed Damian in the ribs. “Shut. Up.”

Ra’s smiled venomously at the pair, but didn’t grace Damian’s comments with a response. When he turned his gaze back onto Tim, Ra’s’ expression seemed to ask, this is who you would choose? This band of orphans and street rats, over the man who could give you the keys to world power?  

“This is the last time I’m going to make this offer, Timothy. Join with me and I’ll spare your family and friends. They can walk out of here without a scratch on them.”

Tim swallowed thickly, the muscles in his neck so tight that he could feel them jump at the movement. “And if I say no?”

Ra’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’m going to make you watch as I cut every one of them down. And that one,” he stabbed a finger at Jason, “isn’t going to die before experiencing a lot of pain.”

“I’ve died twice already.” replied Jason. “A painful death doesn’t scare me.”

“Let’s see if you still think that after I bring you back and repeat the process a few times in new and creative ways. I’m sure Timothy wouldn’t care to see that again.”

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe evenly.

“Are you remembering what it was like, Detective? How he choked on his own blood as he struggled for breath. His dead eyes staring up at you. I’ve heard that death by anthrax poison is especially gruesome towards the end. The entire thing must have been horribly…   traumatic for you.”

Tim’s eyelashes were wet when he opened his eyes to stare at him. “And you wonder why I can’t love you. You’re nothing but a fucking monster.”

“I am what you make me, Detective. But, whatever you think of me, remember this, I’m a man of my word. So think wisely before giving me your answer.”

Tim looked around at his family members. Every single one of them knew the risks of being in the vigilante business. On some level you have to be willing to walk into a fight with the knowledge that you might die there. He knew that they could die here today, but it still bothered him… the thought that because of him, an entire legacy might be wiped out all at once. Yes, there would still be Barbara and Kate and Alfred, but to have all of their hard work cut off in one final blow felt like the cruelest thing of all. Could he really live with the knowledge that he was responsible for everyone’s deaths except his own… because he knew that if they lost this fight, Ra’s wouldn’t give him the opportunity to kill himself. Tim would be trapped with his decision.

Tim met Ra’s’ gaze head on. “I made myself a promise a long time ago that if I was going to lose, I would do it on my own terms.”

Tim reached over his shoulder and pulled his bo staff from his back.

“So I choose my family.”

Ra’s nodded and out of the corner of his eye, Tim could see his family members reaching for concealed weapons. Damian’s sword sung as it was freed from its scabbard and held in a two-handed grip in front of him.

Under his breath Dick was issuing quiet orders. Tim only caught a fragment of them at the end. “ — eyes on Tim and Jason at all times.”

Ra’s raised his voice as he stood from his chair. “Anyone who brings the detective to me alive will be granted the greatest gift that I can offer to anyone. A second life on this earth.”

“Oh, fuck,” Tim hissed in time with Steph. This fight was about to get a lot more intense.

Steph closed ranks on his left just as the columns of ninjas turned and charged them. For one horrible minute Tim and Jason were crushed in the center of a mass of bodies, their weapons uselessly pinned against their sides. The pair were jostled as their family members jabbed, kicked, and punched to gain some room to move to expand their small circle outwards.

Tim felt Jason’s hand grasp onto his wrist and he turned in time to see Jason angle his head before dragging him through the mass of bodies towards Dick. His older brother had his escrima sticks out and they got there just in time to watch Dick catch a ninja under the jaw with one, knocking him off his feet.

Jason charged past Dick into the space that had just been cleared and caught the next ninja that came at them with a knife in his gut. The man dropped like a rock.

Hands clutched at Tim from all sides. Tim spun with a vicious sweep of his staff that knocked all of them back, before taking on the group of three in front of him, trusting Jason to defend him from behind. It was difficult to use his staff while fighting back to back with Jason, his moves limited by the fact that the wrong one might injury Jason just as much as it injured his enemies.  

Someone, Tim thought it might have been Bruce, dropped a smoke bomb to give them cover. It had the unfortunate effect of aiding the fighters on both sides. A body erupted from the smoke and barreled into Tim from his far right.

Tim was slammed backwards into Jason, lifting the other boy off his feet. The trio hit the floor, the ninja’s hands locked onto Tim’s staff, pinning Tim underneath it. Tim released his staff with one hand and punched the man across the face twice in quick succession. It stunned him long enough for Tim to get a foot planted underneath him and flip them. They rolled until Tim was straddling the man’s waist, Jason shoving at the ninja’s shoulder to free his pinned legs.

A stranger’s hand fisted in Tim’s hair and yanked him backwards. Tim dropped his staff  with a scream and scrambled to free himself. The other ninja, whose chest he’d previously been straddling, started to move as Tim’s weight was lifted off him. Tim kicked at him, catching him in the shoulder and the the cheek. Jason punched the ninjas from behind, his fist landing a blow behind the man’s ear.

Tim’s fingernails were leaving blood scratches in the man’s hand as he tried to find the man’s thumb, hoping that if he broke it with a hard yank backwards, the man would release his grip on his hair. Jason beat him to it, twisting his body around on the ground to aim his gun and blasting a bullet into the ninja’s skull. Tim gasped as blood and brain matter splattered across his neck and back, but didn’t have time to freak out more than that as he was attacked from below.

Tim threw himself on top of the man who was trying to rise from under him and slammed his arm against the man’s windpipe.

“Knife!” he screamed, reaching towards Jason. Jason’s blood-slicked hand slapped something in his palm. Tim took it without looking at it and stabbed the ninja in the shoulder before twisting it.

Without even looking, Tim knew that Dick was standing behind him. He could hear every solid thack as Dick’s escrima sticks made connect with flesh and bone.

Jason rose up onto his knees and reached to help Tim up.

“Come on,” he said, breathing hard. “We have to get on our—”  

Tim looked up at him.

He gasped and seized at his staff. “Jason—”

The man barely had time to lay hands on Jason before Cass was there, climbing up the man’s back in two strong strides before she could wrap her legs around the man’s neck and snap his neck with a sharp twist of her legs. She fell to the ground on top of him and shoved Jason and Tim to their feet.

She pointed to the path that Bruce, Steph, and Damian were working hard to keep clear.

“The command center.” She panted. “Go! Now!”

Before he knew it, Jason’s hand was on him again, tugging Tim fiercely towards safety. They ran full speed down a number of dark hallways, knowing that if they stopped to figure out where they were they would be set upon from behind again.

“Left! Jason go left here!” Oracle’s voice erupted loudly from their comms.

Running side by side with him, Tim caught a glimpse of Jason’s grin. “You’re a lifesaver, Babs.”

“Save that thank you until you can say it to me in person, alright? We’re still miles from the finish line.”

“Will do, Coach.”

Oracle directed them through the dark and empty corridors until they reached the locked doors of the command center. Tim pressed his face to the opaque glass and cupped his hands next to his head. Nothing stirred within the room.

Tim shifted over to the keypad and pulled a piece of his tech from one of the pockets of his bandolier.

“Still have that knife?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I think you left it in that guy’s shoulder.” replied Jason with a distracted glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was heading their way.

“Right,” Tim sighed and fished out a birdarang. He wedged the sharp edge of the blade in between the two panels and snapped it open with a hard whack of his palm. He connected the wires and let his tech do the decrypting, flashing through variations of codes before the keypad chimed and the lock on the door popped open.

 “Here,” Tim tossed Jason a USB drive as they entered the room. “There should be a main driver on that far wall that stores all of the league’s information. Plug that into one of the ports and I’ll start transferring the files onto it.”

Jason went to the far wall as Tim spun a chair around and sat in it. As he decrypted the login into the league’s server, Jason called out to him, “Weren’t you only in here, like, twice? How do you know where they keep everything?”

Yeah, thought Tim. Once, at the very beginning. The second, to watch you die. Both times I wanted to be looking at anything other than what was right in front of me.

“It’s similar to how I would set up my own command center if I were running a worldwide league of assassins.”

It was actually how Tim would have remodeled the batcave’s command center if given the chance. He hoped that didn’t reveal more about him than he was ready to admit. Tim had just finished pulling the files over to the drive when an explosion sounded in the distance. He watched the progress bar as it inched forward on the screen.

Dick’s voice came shaky and out of breath on their comms.

He was running.

“Ra’s— is heading your way guys—  Bruce and I are— in pursuit. Shit—”

The line was quiet for a moment before Dick’s voice returned. “Others are holding back the ninjas for as — long as they can. Whatever you’re doing, do it faster.”

Tim looked at Jason and then the progress bar. Thirty-seven percent complete.

He placed his finger against his comm unit. “There’s no way we’ll be finished in time.”

“Then barricade the fucking door!”

“Right,” Jason looked around him before pulling a filing cabinet onto its side with a bang. Tim ran to the doors and slammed them closed. He initiated the security lock code on the keypad and then ripped the entire thing out of the wall and severed the wires. Together they pushed the filing cabinet against the doors and stacked anything not bolted down on top of it.

“I just want to state that none of this would have happened if we’d just blown the place up like I suggested in the first place.” Jason wedged a desk chair against the pile.

“I’m beginning to see the logic in that.”

A sword blade punched through one of the glass doors above the handle. Tim stumbled back into Jason with a shaky, “Fuck.”

Jason dragged him away from the door.

“The files.” he said. “Are they transferred?”

Tim ran over to the monitor. “Transferred!”

Jason yanked out the drive. “Alright, trash his tech. Now!”

Tim tossed Jason the drive with his own personally designed virus. As he implemented it, he was aware of the glass exploding inwards as Batman’s body was thrown through it. Jason planted himself between the door and Tim, his guns held in both hands, firing at any movement through the doorframe.

The virus was working its magic with every line of code.

The sound of glass crunching under boots had Tim turning in concern. Why wasn’t Jason firing? Tim stepped out from behind Jason’s tall form and could only stare at the sight in front of him. Bruce half risen onto his knees on the ground, and Dick arching perilously against the insistent pressure of Ra’s’ blade to his neck.

Ra’s, with blood dripping down the side of his face from a wound at his hairline, met his eyes from across the room. With a venomous smile, he asked, “Shall I start with this one, Timothy?”

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 2

Last time, on Symphogear!

An adorable little girl, stood up by her date for a reasonable explanation, jams it out with her favorite pop duo, caught unawares that they are also a monster-fighting syndicate experimenting with the power of sound (the power to make you dizzy) to activate an ancient historical relic. Shit goes south as the jams prove to be too powerful, guaranteeing tragedy amidst an otherwise baller concert. Hibiki is rescued by The Bigger Of The Lesbians before she self-destructs to make sure the entire threat is neutralized, leaving The Smaller Lesbian sad, yet still incredibly gay. Years pass as our protagonist goes to Music School, for Music, to bunk it up with her girlfriend as she tries to figure out what the hell happened. Her prayers are answered when she tries to rescue a little girl and is promptly cornered, activating the same outfit The Bigger Lesbian that saved her had on. Gungnir Dattos all around, The Smaller Lesbian loses her shit as everything goes downhill from there.

Now, where were we?

...right. The piss beacon.

And the person taking the piss.

Hibiki has nary a clue what to do. Symphogears don’t actually come with manuals, you see. They’re sort of a “close your eyes and wing it” kind of experience. In Tsubasa’s case, it’s quite literal.

“FUCK that was COOL AS SHIT, tight as FUCKING HELL”

Take pity on this face. This is the face of someone who’s last memories will be a confused lady wondering why she is suddenly part machine.

“imma save you widdle kid”

Something to note about this show is that all the fighters sing while fighting. Hibiki is no exception, even after being confused about what the hell she’s doing. It helps that her voice actress is a professional singer.

It helps that every voice actress here is some sort of professional singer.

This picture basically summarizes why Hibiki is cool despite being so goddamned dumb. She’s angry, and she’s gonna protect some kids even if she dies doing it. Kanade would be proud, if she wasn’t too busy being dead.

No shit!

Have you ever watched the original Sam Reimi’s Spiderman? Like, the very first one? You know all those awkward scenes about Spiderman learning how his powers work? Hibiki basically does that under crunch time. There’s a long segment about how she’s forced to figure things out while protecting a kid and Not Dying.

It’s going pretty great.

I can’t believe she’s secretly Steve Urkel.

“cannot FUCKING believe that girl my girlfriend saved managed to GET HER HANDS on her FUCKING CLOTHES that I WANTED to ENSHRINE IN A MEMORIAL to her how the FUCK did she do that cant BELIEVE i have to SAVE HER IDIOT ASS because she just CANT EVEN DO THAT-”

Tsubasa, preparing herself as a contender for the World’s Angriest Lesbian, barrels through the Noise in her motorcycle...

...which she smashes directly into the Noise. It does nothing.

Tsubasa has many a motorcycle to smash. It’s a testament to her dedication following her aesthetic.

She fueled the tank completely before smashing it in.

Tsubasa... is petty.

As Tsubasa t-poses to assert dominance (a woman ahead of her time, this first aired in 2012), she comes down ready to kick some ass and vent some frustrations. And frankly? She’s all out of ass.

“oh my god she’s even hotter up close i cant believe it”

“fucking knock-off outfit looks like it came out of a bootleg flea market”

You don’t need to know what happens next, because you already know what happens when someone shows up with a fucking sword ready to sing about their dead girlfriend and the conflicting feelings about seeing her armor pop up again on someone else.

Murder.

Lots... and lots... of murder.

“we’re so fucking useless why do we even exist”

After Tsubasa finishes what could only be described as a massacre, we’re treated to how people clean up the aftermath.

“hey, you know, make fun of me all you want, but at the end of the day, im the one holding the vacuum cleaner, and you’re literally turned to dust, so”

Even this little girl knows shit’s about the go down. Got the tea and everything.

This is one of the minor characters of the series. She works for the 2nd Division. Who is the 2nd Division? You’ll find out soon.

“i didnt die! fuck yeah. today’s a good day.”

“OH WAIT NO-”

Hibiki learns that her outfit unsets after a while, like bideo game. Who catches her mid-fall?

Her new best friend, of course. Don’t be fooled by this look. Tsubasa tragically suffers from resting angry face syndrome. It is, unfortunately, incurable.

“i hate how cute she is”

Hibiki reminds her that this is technically the second time Tsubasa has saved her, which in the large scheme of things, seems incredibly innocuous for someone who escaped a major tragedy many years ago. Unfortunately, time doesn’t move forward for Season 1 Tsubasa. Not for quite a while...

The funny part is it doesn’t even hit her initially. She never actually saw Hibiki personally during that moment, so she actually doesn’t even have a clue what she means.

Look at her. Look at this clown. How could you hate her. Look at that smile.

All the survivors are always forced to write NDAs about what they saw. This grows to comical levels at times, given the scale of what happens eventually. It might as well be the world’s biggest open secret by now.

“aight homies looks like i gotta go home, the wife’s gonna be lonely an-”

Oh.

“sorry holmes but you’re going to gay baby jail like the rest of us singers”

Hibiki’s face is riddled with guilt. The guilt of someone who just saved a little girl. How dare you, Hibiki. This is what you get for doing The Right Thing.

And so she’s taken to “jail.”

“sorry pal but you literally turned into a huge weapon and you have no idea how to use it so!”

And so, Hibiki was never seen again...

Alright, so she really isn’t going to jail. She is genuinely being taken into custody, though. To be honest, this kind of handcuff procedure is sort-of ridiculous for someone who literally just saved children, and you could probably bribe her to join them with a 10 piece chicken dinner, but hey, fuck it. 2nd Division has protocols, and that is to arrest people.

“i cant believe i was a fan of a narc all this time”

The school has a giant elevator that goes deep into the Earth. Also, look at that symbolism. Hibiki’s the only one looking at her own reflection. Deep.

Thanks, Tsubasa.

The interior decorator for this elevator is wild.

Tsubasa forbodes where they’re all going as some ominous, strange, and evil place where joy and happiness die. Where good feelings and innocence are destroyed, and hope is crushed and ripped at the seams.

As it turns out, Tsubasa is just an angsty piece of shit.

So here’s the situation:

The 2nd Branch, which are the people in charge of poking relics until they glow with the power of music to study and harness the power of as weapons to kill the Noise, live in a several mile deep high tech basement of an all girl’s boarding school dedicated to music. This is because, for the record, that the girls recruited to this school have the habit of being a little bit attuned to these relics. Hibiki, a newly christened Gear user, is now being recruited into this organized by Genjuro.

“i never got this kind of party when i was recruited”

“thats because nobody liked you, hans”

“im skipping my soaps for this”

“fucking hate my twin brother hans”

“she?????? gets a party??? SHE. gets a party. I DON’T GET A PARTY. SHE... GETS A PARTY? and i dont get a fucking party. i was literally BORN into this job. NOBODY gives me a damn party. this MORON who CLOWNS AROUND with her SUBPAR SONGS. gets a party. oh my god. oh my GOD. FUCK. FUCK!”

“if this is what its like to get arrested i gotta be gayer and do more crimes”

“I’m not actually surprised. I’m just pretending to be. I’m just really not good at pretending to be surprised.”

“fucking hate this family, im gonna eat all of hibikis cake and cry in my room”

Remember: This show first released in 2012. Ryoko? Trendsetter.

Ryoko’s screen is very dirty and foggy. Don’t ask why. Don’t even remember why I pointed this out. Just forget this point completely.

Hibiki understands that handcuffs just aren’t fashionable.

Genjuro casually explains that they’re the fictional japanese equivalent of the NSA, all while doing magic tricks. Truly a man of many talents.

Tsubasa is already plotting how to vent about all this in her diary, which she addresses as letters of Kanade every time she writes in it.

Genjuro and Ryoko introduces themselves as everyone else apologizes to her, except Tsubasa.

Ogawa also intro- yes, I’m recycling a picture- introduces himself. He’s pretty cool, too, and serves as Tsubasa’s ninja bodyguard, butler, and all around mentor. We never get a backstory on him, and likely never will. It’s best to keep it that way; it only adds to the mystery of who the hell this guy is.

“weird flex but okay”

Hibiki realizes she’s being recruited, after being told she’s being recruited. Given some brain cells remain in her head, she asks the obvious and wonders what the hell happened to her.

“ryoko, care to explain?”

“well, it’s simple. you’re the protagonist now.”

Ryoko, who has no sense of boundaries, subjects Hibiki to a medical inspection. As creepy as her tone is, its to inspect the state of Hibiki’s newly formed gear.

She’s finally freed from that long winded event and returns home to her wife.

“buddy you smell like shit. and french fries.”

“hibiki. you’re not dead, hibiki. come on, get up. i just cleaned this floor, hibiki. hibiki, please. this is genuinely unbecoming of you. hibiki, oh my god.”

“miku please i learned how to kick ass and im tired and please let me enjoy this nice floor”

Tsubasa does the thing real life Symphogear and all related products never actually bother to do.

“god she’s so gay for her but i know she’d never cheat on me so”

Hibiki ruminates on the day she’s had. This is where the really dumb angst comes in. You see, Hibiki can’t tell anyone about what happened, and Miku, now a civilian in her eyes, cannot know about her alter ego Symphogear antics. Hibiki feels bad about this.

“y u no trust me. y u no tell me troof. im wife.”

After a brief heart to heart Hibiki smiles and snuggles her girlfriend.

They’re gay.

“im gonna marry her knowing full well she’ll sleep through the ceremony. god.”

[underatedcharactersunite]

Summary - An AU where Merle doesn’t get killed by the Governor but he doesn’t go back to the prison. Afterwards, both Daryl and Reader believes he’s dead until Merle shows up at Alexandria on Christmas Eve.  WordCount - 2,052 Pairing - Merle Dixon  X Female Reader Warnings  - Angst, fluff, strong language, violence A/N - Day 2 of Drabblemas 

Day 1 

Living at Alexandria had been a rough road. At first, it had appeared to be some sort of Utopia that finally meant that you could stop running. Yet it never stayed that way. It felt like you were back at the prison, you were sitting ducks waiting for something to happen.

Ever since Negan showed up killing Abraham and Glenn then taking Daryl hostage, life seemed to spiral out of control Negan showing up whenever he felt like it. Yet Negan’s plan to control and set example had worked causing the rest f Alexandria to fear Negan, to know that he was a threat that would have to be taken out sooner rather than later. Yet Negan had succeeded when it came to make your life a misery, he had taken the three most important people in your life away and now you were left with nobody. 

Of course, there were people who you cared for, who’d you willing give your life for. But you weren’t comfortable with them yet to talk about him. It was easier to talk about him to Daryl and Glenn why? Because they knew him, Daryl, more than most.

It was Christmas Eve, Eric and Aaron had been sweet enough to invite you over for dinner. When it came to spending time with Aaron and Eric. it was pleasant and easy. They never pushed for any information about your life before Alexandria, they cared about the person you were now. Another good thing about hanging out with Eric and Aaron is they always seemed to have something to keep you busy and their ability to keep the conversation flowing was always appreciated. It was nice. 

Yet that couldn’t have been said for the conversation that was currently occurring outside. Rick had volunteered to take the watch to give the others sometime with their families. It was Christmas after all and he knew you would want to take the shift tomorrow. Yet as he was watching on the high tower, he was beginning to question his eyesight. It couldn’t be. Lifting his rifle, he checked the viewer to confirm his suspicions. 

“Officer Friendly is that you up there? My I’ve never been thankful to see your face in the entire time I’ve known ya. Where’s my girl and Daryl? They made it didn’t they?” Rick sneered, even now Merle Dixon continued to astonish him at his ability to forget Daryl and Y/N. Rick left his position on the high tower, He was headed directly toward the gate but he didn’t want Merle to be aware of that straight away. After watching both of them fall apart, he wanted to give Merle a taste of his own medicine. 

“Officer Friendly, you didn’t answer my question! Where the hell is my brother and my girl!” Creaking of gates echoed as Rick pushed the gate open slightly. 

“You really are a piece of shit you know that Dixon. Daryl went out of his mind when he thought you died, but what did he do? He kept a brave face and pretended to go on as normal because that’s the kind of man he is. Daryl is a million percent a better man than you will ever be, he risks his life to save other people. Do you want to know where he is? He’s been taken by a group known as the Saviours, why? Because Daryl was doing the job you should have been doing when Negan was swinging Lucille around covering Y/N in the blood of the only person who was able to make her laugh since she thought you died.” Merle gulped as he acknowledged what he had done to his baby brother. Merle never desired to hurt his brother or put him in any sort of danger. Yet Merle was aware of the heavy feeling that heaved in his chest. He was captured because he had been protecting you. The only person next to his brother that he cared about. 

“What about Y/N?” Merle questioned suddenly feeling a lump in his throat. 

“She’s here. She hunted down the Governor for weeks after she thought you died. Only ever coming back if she had found supplies or possible spots for us to search out that she couldn’t do alone. I’ve never seen somebody want someone to die so badly. She watched Herschel die and it only seemed to deepen her anger. She was the last one to leave the prison. She claimed she needed some time alone... Unbeknownst to me, Michonne and Carl she had been trailing behind us the entire time... she kept her distance but she knew she would be reunited with the others and Daryl if she kept track...She wears your shirts so can remember, most of the people here don’t recognise them, but I do. I’ve seen her lean into the fabric whenever she’s having a rough day...Do you know what concerned me more than anything?.... The day that Negan lined us up, the women I knew back the Prison would have been willing to fight... but she wasn’t...she was ready to die...for weeks it troubled me deeply as to why she was givin’ up and then I realised she wanted to be with you and the possibility of that happening she was okay with that.” Rick didn’t miss the stray tear that slid down Merle’s face as he wiped it away furiously. He had destroyed her and she went out for revenge. Rick was right, he had fucked them over enough. Staying away was better for the pair of them. Merle turned his back and went to walk away as he had done the entirety of Daryl’s life. 

“Do you know what amazes me the most about Y/N?” Rick pushed Merle as he continued his slow walk away from the iron gates. Yet the mention of your name always made him stop dead in his tracks. 

“If for once you stopped running away and entered these gates, she’d forgive you? I’m not saying she’d be entirely happy with you at first. But I know she still loves you...she’d kill anybody for more time with you... so suck it up and become the man you should have been for her.” 

“What if I mess up huh officer friendly? You gonna arrest me?” 

“Yes, we have a cell now that I will gladly put you in.. now stop avoiding it and get in here... if it weren’t for Y/N or Daryl I would have shot you by now ” Merle laughed, no matter what he could always guarantee Rick’s brutal honesty. 

The conversation was flowing between you, Eric and Aaron. You hadn’t felt this in a long time, the ability to relax and forget about the world around you. Aaron had just poured you another glass of wine when there was a knock on the door. Eric immediately excused himself as he went towards the door. 

“Is Y/N still here? Somebody’s here to see her.” Rick’s voice snapped you out of the once content area you had been surrounded in, putting your glass down your pace quickened towards the front door. 

“Is everything alright? Has someone finally rescued Daryl?” You questioned sending questioning gazes at Rick who couldn’t quite look at you in the face. 

“Baby?” The darkness made it difficult to see but you knew the voice. You shook your head, you presumed his voice had disappeared that you were finally accepting things for what they were. Apparently, your body had given you some time off before beginning to torment you with his voice once again. 

“Things are okay, we're working on getting Daryl out of there you know that...perhaps stepping out of the darkness would be a good idea.” You presumed Rick was talking to you yet you were currently standing under Eric and Aarons porch light so you could see Rick perfectly and Rick could see you. 

When you looked just behind Rick as a silhouette became a person. You were broken, had the hallucinations came back? Last time it was Herschel who managed to snap you out of them and he’s not here. You couldn’t go through the torment again. 

“Merry Christmas Darlin’“ The hallucination spoke again and your eyes widened. beginning to retreat back towards Aaron and Eric. 

“Y/N...your not seeing things Merle is indeed behind me. He’s real and not dead.” Rick’s confirmation broke your confusion, paranoia as you entered into a fit of rage. Stepping away from Rick, Aaron and Eric you got closer towards him. Until you were millimetres apart before you swung your hair slapping across the face with as much force as possible. 

“You sick bastard! I thought you were dead! I mourned for you! I tracked the Governor because I thought he had killed you! I wanted to die so I could be with you... you’ve been alive this whole time... did you find another to keep your bed warm? Was that it? or was you too much a coward to face that perhaps you might have finally found a place where we could live together! Or was it the thought you wouldn’t have to be somebody’s bitch to get the things you desired. You could be your own person with a position without anyone wanting anything in return!” Tears threatened but you wouldn’t let Merle see how much his “death” actually destroyed you. 

“I know I’ve fucked up! But you gotta believe me, I thought I was doing it to protect ya. I managed to surround the Governor with Walkers and then me and him thought a little. I got shot, I thought I was dying darlin’ but when it came to heading back. I couldn’t...I didn’t belong there, heck I tried to kill the woman with the sword and the Chinese kid-”

“His name was Glenn and he was Korean... I watched him die alongside Maggie who thought she was in the process of losing their unborn baby. After I thought you died, he stood by me. He protected me...he became to me as close to Daryl is and I watched him and Abraham get beaten to death.”

“But I knew you did, you’d be safe with them. I knew that one day I would find you again and would make it up to you. One day I was walking through a road full of stores and I uncovered a jewellery store. I happened to stop enter. I’ve been carrying this ever since.” You observed Merle pull something out from his coat pocket, it appeared to be some sort of ring. Merle stepped even closer towards you. 

“I left you there because I thought you would be better off without me. I was wrong Darlin’ I should have come back, I should have gone through the changes with you beside me let’s face it your the only one who can tell me what to do and for me to listen Since we’ve been apart there’s been no one else. Baby your it for me... I want a second chance... perhaps Rick will let us have one of these houses...perhaps you already have one....darling I ain’t no good at speaking for so long.” You waited to kill Merle for making you think that he was dead. You wanted to scream and yell at him for everything that you went through but you couldn’t do it. 

“I already have a house...it’s just down the road a little. We should go so you can get settled in” Merle’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights as he took in what you just said. 

“Does that mean ya not mad at me?” 

“You have some serious making up to do....I’m also not letting you out of my sight ever again which means no more running away or thinking you know what’s best for me when it means you disappearing.” 

“Baby I’ll do whatever you want me to...you name it and I’ll get it.” You smiled before whispering something into Merle’s ear, a wide grin appearing on his face. 

“We best get going. I’ll be sure to introduce myself to everyone tomorrow morning...or afternoon and then we're speaking about how in hell we’re getting my brother back!” 

As you and Merle walked off towards your house. Rick ran his hand through his beard, his life was now going to get a hundred percent....now he had to deal with Merle and Negan.... 

[atamascolily]

(The) Trickster

In which Rumina returns, nothing goes according to plan, gods are jerkasses, and a LOT of footage from previous episodes is re-used.

Yes, I know these are hopelessly out of order but Nox and I re-watched this episode last night and I want to blog about the experience now instead of waiting a few weeks. So here we go.

(Photos from Far Far Away.)

We open with Maeve riding on the beach for no adequately explained reason, but hey, it looks cool!

Meanwhile, Rumina appears in the dunes, monologuing to a very large lizard that just conveniently happens to wander by. The reason why Rumina keeps losing, FYI, is because she likes to “have a little fun first” instead of outright destroying Our Heroes when she has the opportunity. Based on events that follow, I honestly wonder if this is an unconscious pretense to hide the fact that she enjoys their company and doesn’t know how to interact with them any other way except as an antagonist (think: bratty younger sibling with MAGICAL POWERS. Oy.) 

Maeve finds a random hand on the ground and realizes all is not well, but we never find out any more about this, so it feels kinda random in retrospect, though it seems urgent at the time.

Rumina zaps Maeve from a distance and knocks her off the horse, which we never see again. Maeve probably gets a concussion from this, something to keep in mind when judging her behavior for the rest of the episode. Rumina does this great fist pump to celebrate.

Meanwhile, everybody else is waiting for lunch to cook. It’s a fish roasting on a spit (no, really, look). Firouz is a technological genius, but cooking is not his strong suit. Even Rongar, who canonically has no problem eating food that Sinbad rejects, won’t touch this.

Meanwhile, the giant crab from Episode 8 shows up for no obvious reason, but Maeve doesn’t recognize it because she was tied up in a cave with an even worse CGI monster at the time. Happily, this is what fireballs are for.

Sinbad sees the giant explosion, and knows instinctively that Maeve is in trouble. They find her collapsed on the beach, and when they get her on her fet, she begins to stagger and mutter about how the island is evil and they need to leave.

But before they can make any decisions, a whirlwind shows up and Sinbad is genre-savvy enough to know this isn’t good and Rumina is involved. Maeve wants to stand her ground and fight, but Sinbad orders a retreat. Maeve doesn’t like this, so Sinbad has to pull rank on her - he’s captain - though he softens it a bit by adding he’s her friend as well.

So everybody runs inland. They stumble across a grove full of stones and statues scavenged from Episode 4, which is fronted by a stone tablet with a mysterious script that Maeve conveniently knows how to read. According to the stone, the grove belongs to the Old Ones and outside magic has no power there. Sounds like a great place to confront a sorceress, right? Maeve doesn’t think so, but she is overruled.

Sinbad then asks Maeve to throw a fireball at Rumina, and everyone is surprised when it doesn’t work and Firouz of all people thinks their situation is totally hopeless. Rumina’s whirlwind stops long enough to read the stone - apparently, it’s a magical thing? - and her magic stops working, too, once she enters and SHE is surprised. Oy.

Interestingly, the whirlwind is actually Rumina, spinning, as you can see when she enters the grove and sputters to a stop.

Maeve wants to settle their score the old-fashioned way: with swords. I’d like to point out here that Maeve probably could have run her through before anyone on the crew could stop her, and didn’t take the opportunity, and I’m not 100% sure why here.

Rumina is not pleased by the idea of life without magic:

Mysterious hooded figures show up and everyone is confused on how to respond. Rumina hides behind Sinbad, correctly assuming her is the only one who might actually defend her in a fight. Eventually, everyone retreats and squabbles, until they stumble across this guy, who thinks they are the best comedy series EVER:

He says his name is Reynard, and he’s a caretaker for the Old Ones, who are sort of like Titans, and dead-but-not-really-dead. Oh, and out to kill them all for trespassing in horrific ways. Maeve’s never heard of them, and neither has Rumina, who tries to pull rank on Maeve. Reynard’s not impressed by Rumina or the mention mention of her father, Turok: “He couldn’t be all that great [if he’s dead].” You can see Rumina pause and look very thoughtful.

Sinbad’s not so keen on death, obviously, and starts making plans and giving orders. He makes some assumptions about magic based on his experiences in previous episodes. Rumina calls him out for them, and is not pleased when he throws “the City of Mists” back in her face.

Poor Rumina. This is really not shaping up how she planned, and it’s only going to get worse.

Sinbad decides to split up the party into pairs. Firouz and Rongar obviously go together, and Maeve and Rumina can’t be trusted together, so Sinbad goes with Rumina and Maeve with Doubar.

Sinbad commandeers Rongar’s sword for Rumina - I really wish people would stop taking Rongar’s weapons off him! - and Rongar does not look pleased at the idea of giving Rumina a weapon. Nobody but Sinbad thinks this a good idea, really.

But even Sinbad can’t stand being with Rumina, so they split up too - although there’s some mumbo-jumbo about fruit trees and wild game that I don’t believe for a moment. I mean, really, Sinbad.

This is a terrible idea, because Sinbad immediately stumbles into... footage from Episode 3!

Meanwhile, Rumina stumbles across an older mirror version of herself with a serious attitude:

Old!Rumina is sassy and sarcastic and I love her. I don’t think she’s ugly, but Rumina is not amused. “See what a lifetime of hatred produces?” Old!Rumina asks rhetorically. She lays down the situation in an epic speech:

“Look at me, dear! Solitary. Unloved. Hated by all. I wake up every morning with a taste of business in my mouth. I spent a lifetime seeking vengeance. Accumulating power. To cut myself off from people, that I could care for, and who might care for me. Now I face death…alone.”

There’s a lot more psychology, and Rumina runs away screaming. Reynard, watching from the shadows, thinks this is hilarious.  Rumina stumbles across Sinbad who wakes up from his dream(?) of drowning and they both pretend (badly) that nothing has happened.

Meanwhile, Rongar gets attacked by the wind warriors from Episode 10. Ouch. 

There’s a lot of knife throwing, but when the warriors abruptly vanish, he finds his dirks stuck in the rocks. Weird, right?

Meanwhile, Firouz encounters a cord with the sign, “It is Forbidden to Touch,” has a moment of ‘logical deduction’ straight out of The Princess Bride, and tugs it. Surprise!

...and immediately catches fire. Ouch. Can’t say you weren’t warned!

Rongar has to rescue him, at which point it is revealed the flames were entirely illusory. “Fascinating,” says Firouz. “I’ve always been afraid of fire.”

Note that the cord is real and remains present after the flames have vanished. I expected Firouz to pull it again to se what happens - the mark of a true scientist! - but instead they just wander off. Too bad.

Meanwhile, Maeve and Doubar split up, and Doubar encounters someone he’s not pleased to see: Fortasa, a serial killer Doubar killed in Baghdad a decade earlier.

Meanwhile, Maeve encounters Rumina, and they start fighting.... but it’s really Doubar!

Sinbad, coming to the rescue of the two people he loves most in he world, vaults over Doubar and tackles him just as Doubar is strangling Maeve. Firouz restrains Maeve, but only because Maeve already had one concussion today and Doubar just gave her another one.

Rumina thinks they should question Reynard which everyone reluctantly agrees is a good idea. The Old Ones show up, and Reynard suggests that Maeve and Sinbad fight them. They do, until Firouz notices something odd:

The “Old Ones” are actually mirror versions of the crew! Reynard won’t stop laughing - and then Dermott swoops in and attacks!

Seriously, I’ve been waiting for so long for Dermott to remember he’s actually an aerial assassin and not a messenger boy with wings! Talk about a waste of potential!

When Dermott eases off, Reynard.... looks different.

Maeve recognizes him: “Coyote!”

Rumina recognizes him: “Ishu!”

I call bull on Maeve, because there is no way a Celt or anybody in that entire hemisphere would know a North American name, at least not in any time period this show might reasonably be assumed to take place in. “Reynard,” maybe, but not Coyote. Anyway, he goes by a lot of names, and he’s a Trickster by trade. Maeve’s got him figured out: “He’s part god, part mortal, and all trouble!”

So, to sum it up, the whole thing was just the Trickster playing around. There are no Old Ones and magic works just fine. “But you were so frightened of what they might do, that you imagined the worst. You all thought of what you feared and hated the most. Your deepest, darkest nightmares. You were all so scared, that even the witches lost their powers, all on their own. You know, you could have fought me with your magic. You’ve had it all along. You just frightened yourselves out of using it.”

I can kinda buy that, given that

He should have seen what was coming next: the ONE thing Maeve and Rumina can agree on.

Reynard flees, leaving Maeve and Rumina with no obstacles to settling their score... until Rumina vanishes. But she gives Rongar his sword back first, which is good.

Okay, she claims she’s going to be the one to choose the time and place, but she said that at the beginning of the episode, too... which I guess means that it only counts for Rumina if she’s guaranteed a win because Maeve’s not expecting an attack out of nowhere. Figures. As we know, Rumina doesn’t play by the rules.

Of course, Maeve still has no idea that Rumina is the one who knocked her off the horse to begin with. I think if she had, she would have been more proactive in stabbing her when she had the opportunity.

Maeve is upset about Reynard using their fears against them. “Sometimes, it’s the only way to make it through life. Just to face your fears, and move on,” Sinbad says only somewhat patronizingly, having confronted his childhood angst already in “The Bully”. Maeve is also upset about Rumina getting away. “I’m very worried about what happens when you run into her next,” Sinbad says diplomatically.

It’s been canonically shown that magical power is directly related to confidence and one’s psychological state, so I will buy that Maeve and Rumina psyched themselves out of using magic. Sinbad being afraid of drowning/Rumina makes sense, given his back story. Doubar’s greatest fear is the resurrection of somebody he killed already. Rumina is afraid of growing old and being alone. It’s unclear to me why Rongar is afraid of/hates the Wind Warriors - seems kinda random. Wouldn’t he hate the people who cut out his tongue more? Likewise, Firouz’s fear of fire is a little odd for a man who delights in explosions - and that pull rope was  definitely real! So I am not sure I believe Reynard - a liar by nature - that it was ALL the crew’s doing. I think he helped quite a bit, reflecting what he thought would freak them out the most.

Also, were the crab and the random hand also Reynard’s doing, or Rumina’s, or what? I’m so confused how that relates. Yes, it’s all cool, but some overall coherence would be nice, too...

Dermott is canonically shown to be able to see through illusions in “Conundrum,” so that makes sense, at least.

Mostly, I appreciate the insights into Rumina’s character, making her more than just a vampy villain. It’s clear that she was Daddy’s Little Girl, and Turok raised her with the idea that she was superior to everyone else, and other peoples’ needs and feelings were not important. Magic has enabled her to get her way nd get everything she wants on her own terms, and there’s some part of her that really is afraid that she’ll be ugly, old and alone that she’s fighting desperately to silence. Being without magic, and being around the crew, is actually a character-building experience for her.

There are so many interesting ways to go, and I’m pretty sure we will NOT get to it before the season ends. But that’s what fic is for, right?

[thezerolevel]

Cheapskate Reviews The Devil’s Cavaliers

The opening credits play over shots of dudes galloping across the countryside: a few of these shots repeat themselves. This is supposed to be southern France in the 1550s, but looks like it’s undergone a dry spell. Once the credits end, we get the first line of the movie: “Hey Captain, look there!” Shades of the beginning of Hamlet! A guy in black (the captain) sets off on horse-pursuit of somebody else whose horse reared up and whinnied. That’s a crime, I guess. The second rider falls off and is revealed to be a woman in a shot that contains the glissando harp that tells you she’s beautiful.

She’s Louise and he’s Richard Stiller (unusual surname for a Frenchman) and they’re in love. Or at least Louise is, all dreamy and stuff. Richard’s got the expression of a coach giving a postgame conference. Louise is traveling with Baroness Elaine (Fairchild?) who’s come to visit from court, “where she knew the queen’s magician, Nostradamus, and apparently he taught her a few of his secrets: she actually predicted your return!”

Elaine called Richard the jack of spades upon meeting him.

RICHARD: My lady has trumped the jack. But may I ask, why the jack of spades? ELAINE: The sun of Spain has given that shade to your features, my cavalier, and every time I read the cards, you always come out between two hearts.

Awwww yeahhh, we’re gonna have some Hercules-quality dialogue here. (And Richard is no darker than Elaine.) The actress who played Elaine, Gianna Maria Canale, may look vaguely familiar to fans of doofy adventure films (e.g. me): she was the Amazon queen in the Steve Reeves Hercules.

Their banter is interrupted by a group of dudes who ride in and accuse Richard of being a brigand, kicking off our first sword fight: guys wielding fencing swords on horseback attack Richard, who fights back with his sword at head-level. I’ve seen a lot of fencing scenes in movies, and I’ve seen a lot of horseback fights in movies, but I’ve never seen a horseback-fencing scene before, and for good reason: the riders just go around in circles and the women stand in the middle, as confused as I was. Fencing seems like it would just forfeit all the advantages of being on horseback. You’d prefer to just ride in and spear your opponent before they can get away. Likewise, fencing is all about fancy footwork, which is in short supply among horses. Then again, this film had a pair of fencing masters coordinating the fight scenes named Andrea and Franco Fantasia. And I’m not prepared to doubt a guy with a name like Franco Fantasia.

The Baroness orders Richmond, the captain of the guard, to knock it off and apologize. (The voice that says “apologies accepted” is completely weird.)

Our hero, who seems to be self-conscious about his teeth, and our heroine, whose hat angle is midway between “jaunty” and “rakish.”

Richard’s headed home to rebuild his house, which was somehow destroyed. He’s been away for a while:

LOUISE: Do you need to say that it was my influence that brought you back to the land of your childhood? RICHARD: I’m out of practice with madrigals. I was a little clumsy.

Try inserting that line into the suggestion box next time you go to an improv show.

They’ll be headed to the palace for a ball tomorrow. Cut to Richard’s castle, which looks very medieval and totally inappropriate for the 1550s. Richard is a mercenary at heart and doesn’t want to settle down, so he wants to sell the castle to the king and go off adventuring. The king would want to buy the land because “heresy is spreading rapidly.” Presumably he’s talking about the Huguenots, the Calvinists who were a few years away from launching a protracted civil war.

Richard’s traveling with a retinue of his former soldiers. For some reason, one of the guys in Richard’s retinue doesn’t hear very well and it’s a joke. Anyway, off to the tavern. Richard’s been smiling more around his dude friends and the tavern people than he was around his girlfriend. Maybe he just can’t be tied down. Richard gets a super awkward line about his father:

RICHARD: Is it possible at your age that life hasn’t taught you that it’s useless to waste tears on a dead and buried past?

He gives the tavern keeper a gift of the tavern to show us that he’s the good guy, and there’s a round of totally unconvincing laughter that runs just a little too long.

Cut to a four-piece ensemble in front of a tapestry. I thought for a moment that the tavern had really splurged on entertainment, but no, this is the palace. The two sets aren’t different enough from each other visually to tell the difference. There’s some of that fancy cultured dancing going on, one of them quadrilles or some shit that I would know if I wasn’t a yokel from the sticks.

Richard says he hates the dances, but he smiles through them anyway. (The incessantly-smiling hero is another element borrowed from Hercules.) Elaine is here, dancing with the duke. The duke is not a fan of Richard and Louise getting together.

DUKE: They may have grown up together. They may be no more than childhood playmates. But this is a little game I don’t like at all!

Our villains, Elaine and the duke.

The duke is dismayed because he is, in his words, “a jealous man. Louise’s absurd flirting upsets [his] plans and a strange childhood friend returned home at a most inopportune moment could easily become a serious obstacle.” I guess he wants to marry her, but I’m not sure if it’s out of lust for power or lust for… lust. As the courtly dance continues, Elaine echoes my thoughts:

ELAINE: This ball is on the verge of becoming extremely boring.

Elaine and Richmond are competing for opportunities to take out Richard. They agree to give Richmond first crack. Meanwhile (do you always hear this word in your head in Allison Pregler’s voice when it leads off a sentence?), as Louise speaks of how entranced she is by the wonderful evening, she gazes off into space, looking kind of like the portrait of the Queen on the back of a Canadian quarter. Richard pitches woo for a while and then a guy with a mustache (repeated viewings, plus IMDB, convince me that this guy’s name is Duneil) purposefully bumps into him. When mustache guy says Richard should watch his feet, Richard gives an ever-so-pithy reply:

RICHARD: From the looks of you, I should put at least one of them in a certain part of your anatomy… the presence of a lady forbids my naming precisely.

I know what he’s getting at, but it’s funnier to imagine he’s referring to the pisshole. Anyhow, it’s time for a duel, which breaks up the party as everyone heads outside to watch. And this one is going to be a treat, because Duneil is portrayed by the one, the only… Franco M. F. Fantasia.

Signore Fantasia is not amused.

Some guy tells Louise she shouldn’t have invited Richard because he’s a vagabond, but she thinks he’s the hero she’s been waiting for. The fight kicks off in the garden, in front of a pool. Franco M. F. Fantasia is pretty damned quick. Some of his best moved are parried when Richard is off-screen. Sadly, there’s no music in this scene, just crickets. And the fight scenery is pretty dull. Nobody watches swashbuckling sword fights just for the swordplay: they want to see people slash candelabras and slide down bannisters and swing from chandeliers and trade quips. They at least attempt the latter, but the quips here have lost something in translation:

DUNEIL: I hope you have a piece of land left where your friends can bury you! RICHARD: They won’t bury you! They’ll leave your body for crow’s meat!

Not exactly “you fight like a cow” territory, here. It’s also disappointing that the dubbing team isn’t reading the lines like they’re in the midst of a fight: nobody’s out of breath.

Did you guess that Duneil would be going in the pool? You guessed correctly. The whole fight runs about two and a half minutes, and while students of stage fighting might enjoy it, it’s not thrilling enough to keep the general audience engaged.

The next day, Richard and Louise are out chilling in the countryside, wearing their Sunday best, as you do. The music is a bit too loud here as Louise suspects that Richard’s just running away from his soldierly responsibilities (which haven’t been defined as of yet—I thought he was a mercenary captain). Louise wants him to find adventure closer to home by overthrowing the Duke. Richard demurs.

RICHARD: You’re expecting your St. George… and you find only a tired soldier.

But he was just talking about how much he loved adventure! On the other hand, I guess it’s more fun to have a daring adventure in a faraway land than in your hometown. I’d much rather carry out a secret spy mission in Vienna than in Dubuque.

This lasts right up until Louise mentions that they’re trying to promise her to the Duke as a bride, which gets Richard to flinch. Louise wants to beat the Duke with his own weapon—scheming—and she says she has Elaine on her side. This may not end well for her. This whole conversation takes place while they’re standing dead still in front of a waterfall, facing away from it. Perhaps there’s something even more scenic behind the camera, like, I dunno, the Chrysler Building standing atop Mount Fuji.

You’d think Louise would be impressed by this, right? See her next line.

LOUISE: What do you think you’ve solved by doing that?

If I heard that after kissing a woman, I would probably be so embarrassed that I would go stand in the waterfall and wait for it to carry me to a merciful death. Some dude rides up—I can’t tell who it is at this distance—and it seems it’s bad news because Louise expects an argument and Richard wants to go help in whatever useless way he can. Nope, she’s going along.

Ominous gong and drumroll at the castle, where Elaine and the duke are trying to cut a deal. Elaine thinks the duke’s pride will be the death of him. Seems she tried to use a love potion to make Louise fall for the duke:

ELAINE: The potion that is able to put out the flame of love has not yet been invented.

Their ultimate goal is to overthrow the king. I guess they’re Huguenots. Elaine doesn’t like the duke, but she thinks the duke can take out the king, and she’s going to avenge herself on the king because it seems the king is not a good guy. Elaine promises to deal with Richard in her way, and the duke decides that this is a good time to get flirty.

DUKE: But in the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt you to make an effort to be a little kinder to me…

Elaine leans way the hell back when he says this. and shoots him down.

Back at the tavern, Richard’s doing some paperwork (with the only guy who’s faking a French accent) when Giselle, Louise’s handmaid, comes in to buy supplies for Louise’s engagement ceremony. Even after she’s said, several times, that Louise is getting engaged, Richard acts like he doesn’t understand what’s going on. Maybe he took a few polearms to the head. Giselle straight up says that Louise is marrying the duke, and that Louise is preparing for the wedding. Richard’s response?

RICHARD: I don’t understand why you’re being so mysterious!

They’re going back to the palace together, plus one of Richard’s hangers-on, apparently because he has the (understandable) hots for Giselle.

I challenged braid enthusiast Jill Bearup to tackle this hairstyle.

Giselle and Louise meet in a garden and Giselle says she’s got a plan: if the guitarist stops playing, run like hell. Now off to talk to Richard again for a while, after they just did that a few minutes ago. There wasn’t really an engagement, this was just an attempt to lure Richard to the palace to make out. But now the duke sees that Richard is here, and he’s got Franco Fantasia with him who’s looking for revenge!

Louise’s plan is to “denounce [the duke’s] dissolute ways before all the nobles of the province,” with Elaine helping her. Richard puts on a goofy grin as he complains that nobody trusts Elaine. That’s her plan, and she’s sticking to it. Once she leaves, Franco Fantasia meets him with two guys who have to be German, based on their clothes. A three-on-one fight begins, with the two Germans acting in concert sometimes, and other times applying the one-ninja-at-a-time rule. Again, there’s very little use of the scenery.

After Louise sees the fight, Franco draws first blood, and we get our first swashbuckling dirty trick: Richard grabs some foliage, throws it in Franco’s face, and runs. Somehow, they didn’t have him surrounded, and he runs to Louise. Which is weird, because the camera angles used implied that Franco was between Louise and Richard, but somehow Richard ran offscreen in the other direction and wound up with Louise. Louise sneaks him into the palace.

Elaine is unhappy to learn what happened:

ELAINE: What is the thing you have done now? And I’m really astonished at you!

Elaine’s learned that Richard is in the castle (somehow) and clues in the guards. But she doesn’t want their help, because she has a plan.

A kid named Henri arrives to meet with the duke. He’s Louise’s brother, and he’s prepared to help the duke court her. He’s even providing a bit of love advice.

HENRI: As a rule, young girls of her age are fond of the unexpected, monsigneur.

Women readers: how would you react to your brother saying this about you?

After some more talkity-talk scenes that don’t really add anything to the plot, Giselle shows up at the tavern and tells Richard’s posse that Richard is a prisoner in the castle and needs rescuing. Then, back at the castle, Elaine cleans up Richard’s wounds and plots with Louise and Richard to escape tomorrow. She then reports tomorrow’s escape attempt to Richmond, who’s going to try and capture Richard with the help of… Franco Fantasia. Again. Elaine is not impressed.

ELAINE: If there’s absolutely no one else available whom you can use.

Despite being a grand schemer and a master of deception, Elaine is awfully loose-lipped about her disdain for the duke in this scene. She calls him a “blusterer” and a “mediocrity,” and she thinks it’s time that the duke get deposed and replaced with a man who can really inspire the people. You know, like Richard.

RICHMOND: You are ambitious. ELAINE: I know what I’m doing.

She distracts Fantasia, then invites Richard back to her room, where she offers him some wine. If you’ve seen a Hercules film, you know what happens next.

RICHARD: This wine is full of fire. What kind of vineyard could have produced the grapes for such a powerful wine?

He’s knocked out as Giselle reports to Louise that Richard is toast. Louise heads out to do… whatever (sadly, she’s not getting in a sword fight). Henri is waiting in Richard’s room and delivers the most wooden line reads of the whole script as he insinuates that bad things are going on. He busts into Elaine’s room, reveals them in what kinda looks like flagrante delicto but not really, and… shoots Elaine? I don’t understand this at all. Elaine dies, a victim of “a dream that was too great for [her],” and now we have sword fight #3.

Scandalous!

Now, in a good swashbuckling film, the environment has to come into play during a fight. This fight takes place in a room full of furnishings. I want to see the drapes thrown on a guy’s face, or somebody get whacked with a candelabra. But it’s just sword fighting here. One table is kicked over, but otherwise, bupkis. Richard ends the fight by turning Franco’s sword on himself. Meanwhile, Louise traipses off unnoticed.

The escape day-for-night is so dark that you can hardly see a thing except Richard’s white shirt. Thankfully, the only thing they do here is have Richard horsejack a dude and ride away.

Richard rides into the tavern the next day and tells his sidekicks (one of whom is doing a really awful Danny Kaye impression) to barricade the door to make it more defensible. You may remember that Richard also owns a castle, which is a structure that is generally well-suited for defense. Perhaps the plan is to wait for the guards to besiege the castle, then burst out of the tavern and attack them from behind.

No, actually. It seems that the guards knock down the barricade without much effort, only for the tavern denizens to vanish. Here begins a reprise of the horse chase from the intro, with chase music that isn’t so bad, really: the short bursts of percussion remind me of the chase music from Planet of the Apes. But it doesn’t match the tempo of the chase. The music is faster and more energetic than the horses are.

When our heroes arrive at a place with a gate that they want to go to (it’s a convent), they can’t get it open in time, and we have another patently absurd horse-fencing scene. There seems to be a gentleman’s agreement not to stab anybody’s horse. Richard gets to try out a one-liner:

RICHARD: I surrender only to God, and he’s not on your side!

The nuns just stand around watching the carnage, wherein Richard finds himself occasionally getting the worst of a one-on-one fight for the first time in the movie. Eventually the Mother Superior drops in to figure out if they want to give Richard & co. sanctuary, but she needs to know if they’re heretics. The nuns get the first decent joke:

NUN 1: We’ve heard them say their prayers. NUN 2: In their own way, but with great devotion, Reverend Mother.

The comic relief guys get subjected to a CCD exam by the nuns as they fight with their backs to the wall. That’s enough to get the good guys admitted and the bad guys somehow get the gates shut in their face, even though Richard was very clearly behind some of those bad guys just a shot ago.

It’s OK to get in a fight in front of a convent now and then, as long as you don’t make it a habit. *RIM SHOT*

The next scene is at court, where Henri and Louise are on trial for murdering Elaine. Henri’s defense is that he tried to kill Richard instead, but it seems that killing a baroness is a strict liability offense and doesn’t require proof of motive. The duke won’t reveal the deal with Henri to kill Richard, so it seems that Henri is dead meat.

LOUISE: You have never known how to select your friends.

At the convent, the men are welcome to stay as long as they’re in danger, but they’re going to have to work for it. Exciting scenes of swashbuckling minor construction work follow! Laugh (or not) as the guy who wants to be Danny Kaye and who has no trouble going to war, for crying out loud, tries to get out of building a dove pen!

Louise and Giselle have a stitch-and-bitch party. Louise is convinced that the duke will offer her a pardon in exchange for marriage. She’s lost her faith in Richard at this point because of Elaine’s tomfoolery, and boldly proclaims, “I want only to die.” (Her line read doesn’t sound all that sad to me, but whatever.)

The duke shows up, as predicted, and demonstrates his inability to flirt.

DUKE: It is your obstinate attitude that exasperates me. Despite all my excesses, I think I am less inhuman than you are.

He has no choice, you see, he has to put somebody to death for killing Elaine or else the king will be mad. And once she gives him a chance, she’ll start to love him eventually (as so many heavyset men with unflattering haircuts and beards have said over the years).

It’s time to break out of the convent, but it’s surrounded by enemy soldiers. Richard asks the mother superior about a disguise. Meanwhile, Richmond explains that the duke needs to do something grand and showy to convince the provincials that the duke is worthy to be king.

Richard’s bold plan is to put on a guard outfit and ride right up to Richmond’s castle. He didn’t even shave his mustache! Admit it, you were expecting him to disguise himself as a nun.

”I mean, I, of course, am a master of disguise. But he, on the other hand, looks like a dink.”—Die Fledermaus

The duke is going to have a grand and showy tournament to demonstrate how great he is. (Or rather, a “tourney.” This is a dubbing decision to cover for the Italian “torneo.” I wonder if George R.R. Martin insists on “tourney” because he’s trying to emulate the atmosphere of low-budget Italian films, or whether he’s iffy on the spelling of “tournament.”) He’ll face Henri in a joust: if Henri loses, Henri is guilty. (So we can now place the time of the film: it’s between 1555, when Nostradamus went to Paris, and July 10, 1559, when France held its last jousting tournament—a tournament that killed King Henri II.) Henri’s never jousted before (the Henri in this movie, not King Henri), so this may not end well for him (but it didn’t end well for King Henri either). The duke claims the weapons will be totally safe.

Richard’s infiltration plan has a fun shot in which the camera sits in the middle of a spiral staircase and follows him around. He’s immediately recognized when he gets to the top. Shoulda shaved the mustache. When you have a brief scuffle in a swashbuckling movie next to a staircase, you gotta throw somebody down the staircase, right? But it doesn’t happen here.

At Louise’s apartment, Giselle wants to stop the tournament (or “tournée,” as she calls it). Louise thinks it’s no use. Then, just out of the blue, Richard bounds right in and Giselle matter-of-factly greets him. Louise is still sore about the whole arms-of-Elaine thing and isn’t prepared to escape with him, and it’s time for a one-on-three sword fight as the guards burst in. This doesn’t last long, as a guard threatens to kill Louise unless Richard drops his sword. He complies.

Henri walks in after the guards and Richard leave (maybe they nodded to each other in the hallway). Henri thinks he can take out the duke at the tournament. Now Louise wants to escape, and she sends Giselle off to the tavern to get the guys to do… something.

Cut to a girl doing a belly dance at a feast. You know, a belly dance of the kind that was so popular in France in the 1550s (or, rather, of the kind that no proper Hercules movie could be without). The dance is interrupted when Richmond tells the duke that Richard is in the dungeon. As they leave, a group of hitherto unidentified noblemen complain that more men are siding with the duke these days and that they’ll probably lose the tournament.

In the dungeon, Richard notes how unusually laconic the torturer is: “men in your profession usually ask a thousand questions.” The torturer explains his system: if he sees a red hanky in the window, Richard dies slowly. If it’s a white hanky, “we’ll pass the evening playing cards.” The arbitrary nature of early modern justice must have driven this guy nuts, but his work-a-day attitude towards his job makes him the funniest character in the film.

The duke is going to taunt Louise by explaining the hanky code (not that kind of hanky code) and letting her know that she only gets the white one if she agrees to marry the duke. She takes the deal, and Richard will get to go to the wedding.

Meanwhile, the rest of the soldiers escape the convent on a rope that’s been tied to a tree. It’s too dark to see, but the plan is successful. Giselle seduces a guard (“from my window, you can see everything”) and much as you suspected, Richmond reveals that the lances for the tournament are real, but disguised to look like wood.

Time to bust into the castle and save Richard. There’s a great moment where our heroes find themselves at the business end of an arquebus and hit the deck in unison, but the fight is otherwise undistinguished as they dispatch their opponents quickly and get right to Richard. They’re set upon by guards again upon leaving the cell, and this fight turns into a real scrum, complete with flipped tables and (finally) a guy getting thrown down the stairs.

The only way out is through the roof, which Richmond is patrolling with more goons. This fight has great energy, but it’s shot from so many different angles that it’s hard to tell where the characters are in relation to each other. And Danny Kaye guy keeps acting as ineffective comic relief right up until he gets a Chaplinesque kick in the ass. Rather hilariously, the sidekicks form a circus-style human tower to leap over the wall and unlock the gate from the outside.

Quickly, men! Climb the wall, then hop onto your unicycles and speed away!

Richmond and Richard get a climactic sword fight on the stairs. At least, it would have been climactic if we’d seen Richmond’s swordfighting skills at any previous point in the film: even just a quick scene to establish him as a dangerous opponent. Team Circus gets the gate open, and Richard wins his fight with a really disappointing finisher: he jumps over a short obstacle, and when Richmond follows, Richmond leaps right into his enemy’s sword.

RICHARD: To the tournament, men!

…

The things that make a peplum movie entertaining are bizarre dialogue, good looking people wearing very little clothing, and goofy fight scenes. This film has one out of three: the dialogue is appropriately silly, but the 16th century setting means that everyone’s covered up, and the fights leave too many buckles un-swashed.

The Good: I’m going to need to find an excuse to say “Is it possible at your age that life hasn’t taught you that it’s useless to waste tears on a dead and buried past?” more often. Some real athleticism from the sidekicks in the fights. Loved the jailer.

The Bad: Sword fights on horseback are really awkward. Utter lack of characterization among secondary characters makes them easy to confuse with each other. Scenery rarely changes, making the adventure seem less grand.

Watch It If: You’re a swordplay addict or a peplum completist.

Cheapskate Reviews The Devil’s Cavaliers was originally published on Channel Zero